i wonder if actors ever get their scripts and are like
well this is fucking stupid
[image description: photos of the cast of Game of Thrones at the season 8 table read, in various stages of grief]
That Conleth energy is still me to this day like THANKS I FUCKING HATE IT
I say that about 50% of the scripts I receive…
I feel everyone of these emotions. I feel bad for Lena as much as anyone. They really set her up to be the big bad human antagonist and all she did was stare out windows
people who comment on fics just to say that they are re-reading and still cried/felt emotions/loved it are the greatest people on earth and should be given a thousand dollars.
addition: people who comment on fics to say that they are not even in this fandom anddidn’t know the characters at all but read it anyway and loved it are also the greatest people on earth and should also be given a thousand dollars.
“Little bird, little bird, fly through my window. Little bird, littl—”
“Wait Mama, wait!” Leah yelled as she jumped up from her seat on the front step by a dozing and long suffering Ghost. He gave a groan and a huff at being used as a spring board but never moved an inch from his place in the sun.
Jacob too, had been disturbed, jolted from his near sleep in her arms. Dany cut stern eyes at her rambunctious daughter. Leah was her carbon copy in looks, and had a sweet, precious heart just like her daddy, but all the rest of her was as wild as her aunt Arya. Neither patience nor control was her strong suit.
Her white blonde head dropped when she calmed enough to actually look her mama’s way. “I sorry, Mama,” she mumbled as she slowly walked over to the rocking chair and patted her little brother’s chubby thigh. “I sorry too, Jake Jake.”
Dany continued to gaze at her for another beat or two before giving a tiny smile. Leah’s little white teeth shown as she smiled back, blue eyes squinted nearly closed. “What did you need, my sweet?” she asked quietly, hoping her daughter would mimic her tone.
“Can I go get daddy?” she whispered and Dany’s smile grew. “I want hims to do it wiff us. Daddy always does it wiff us!” Leah went on, her little voice growing louder with each word, a shrill yell by the end.
“Leah, love—”
“Who called for Daddy?” Jon growled behind the screen door making Leah shriek and run in a wild giggling circle.
Kit Harington and Clara Rugaard to star in ‘Mary’s Monster’, about the life and circle of Frankenstein author Mary Shelley. It will deal with Mary’s mental struggle to write her novel. Rugaard will play Mary Shelley and Harington will be ‘the monster’.
Their wide-eyed baby boy tracked her every movement as she walked toward their bed.
He was safe and secure beneath his daddy’s arm where he’d fallen asleep over an hour before. Jon, still lightly snoring, napped with him everyday, to catch up on sleep after a long night, or to give her time with the girls. Today it was so she could bake Leah’s birthday cake.
She squatted down and smiled at him. He cooed and grinned, little fist jerking forward to reach for her. “Hello, my sweet boy, did you have a good nap?” she whispered, letting him grip her finger. He took it straight to his little mouth, gums gnawing as he grinned, his dark eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
Jon Jacob Snow looked so like his daddy her heart nearly burst every time she looked at him. Eyes and hair as black as coal, skin as pale as cream, with a little brow that always seemed to be wrinkled in deep thought. The black wisps of silky hair atop his head were just beginning to curl and even his lips were like Jon’s, plush and perfect and pouting.
She couldn’t possibly love him more. Or any of them for that matter. Her heart and world were full, overflowing with joy every hour of every day.
Dany looked up from her book and found her oldest standing in front of her, fishing pole in one hand and silver bucket in the other. She was wearing her daddy’s hat.
“Daddy’s helpin’ Leah and I lost my worm.”
One glance down to the creek told Dany true. Jon had his hands full with both Leah and Abi. Gendry and Arya were further down with their boys. The rest of their pack had gone into town. No other help to be found, she gazed into Rachael’s little bucket, the black dirt wriggling with worms.
She smiled tightly. She’d never gotten past her worm aversion. “Can you get a worm out for Mama?”
Rachael nodded, sat her little bucket down and reached into it, eager and unafraid as she dug through the damp dirt and pulled out a long brown earthworm. She held the wiggling thing between two pudgy fingers, smiling proudly as Dany tried desperately to figure out how to get out of touching it.
She went for her old stand-by and reached for Rachael’s pole, holding up the hook. “Alright, you have the worm, I’ll hold the hook. Do you know what to do next? Daddy’s told you, right?”
“Yes ma'am, but…” Rachael raised her other hand and showed Dany one finger, a tiny trickle of blood running down it. “I don’t wanna get poked again.”
“Oh, my sweet, I’m sorry,” she cooed and laid the fishing pole down before grabbing up one of the napkins from their picnic. “Let Mama clean it up.”
