Ella Purnell as Lucy MacLean Fallout, S01E03, The Head
a plotted starter for @foulrests
trouble had never been shy about finding her, about weaving its way into her life through one avenue or another. more often than not, the trouble came from her own doing – a consequence of her own actions, consequence of the brash, reckless behavior that she was known for. perhaps a better mannered lady would not have taken his words as an invitation, would not have considered them part slight – part question, a subtlety of whether she would take the bait. alysanne had never known when to back down from a challenge, even one that . . . was not so readily spoken, one that had come from so high up the ranks of royalty. but royal blood mattered little to her; royalty mattered for politics, for family names. neither of which alysanne would ever find herself bringing to the table.
it had begun simply enough. an unanswered letter, an indignation to check in on the blackwoods of raventree hall by the dragonlord of harrenhal, a supsicious look held in a color of purple aly couldn't find the right name for. pretty would merely have to suffice. but when benji had grown tired of playing little lord, stifled and too hot – she'd not condemned him to staying, had keenly motioned for the maester to take him to the kitchens for a snack whilst she herself had taken daemon to tour the grounds. that was how they had found themselves here, alysanne with her back braced against a sturdy wooden fence, watching with keen archer's eyes as he'd made commentary about this and that. willing to allow him to continue blowing smoke from his lips until she'd heard what'd sounded like reason enough to prove him wrong. to prove otherwise. an offhanded comment about how she must only know how to handle a bow and arrow.
black curls billow down into her face in the half second it takes her to cross the distance between them and sweep his legs out from underneath him, sending him flat to his back – with aly quick to press him further to the ground, knees settled to either side of him in the dirt, a dagger pulled from within her boots to press to his neck. “ i can manage a blade well enough too. ”
You know what? You broke these boys’ hearts. Leading them on for all this time. You know what? You need to move on, so that we can move on and be a family. A real family. So take this, and get the fuck out.
sydney sweeney via instagram
this is a gift , it comes with a price . independent, highly selective multi-muse roleplay blog. featuring muses from wrestling, house of the dragon, a song of ice and fire, interview with the vampire, and more ! minors do not interact. will contain triggering & sensitive topics, follow at your own behest. #PETITMORTES , as slaughtered by mowgli, 28 / cst / she+hers .
who is the lamb & who is the knife ?
Lotte Verbeek as Giulia Farnese in The Borgias 2.01 The Borgia Bull
having brain thoughts on switching my alysanne fc to em.ily ba.der
this is a gift , it comes with a price . independent, highly selective multi-muse roleplay blog. featuring muses from wrestling, house of the dragon, a song of ice and fire, interview with the vampire, and more ! minors do not interact. will contain triggering & sensitive topics, follow at your own behest. #PETITMORTES , as slaughtered by mowgli, 28 / cst / she+hers .
who is the lamb & who is the knife ?
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SYDNEY SWEENEY In her Jessica Rabbit era, I guess?
@tymptir said : there is nothing bad inside you. nothing. , from gwayne to helaena .
a slow, delicate shifting of her gaze to look at her uncle, a momentary pause as she considers just how much he reminds her of her mother. of the fact that if she allows her eyes to close, she could almost imagine that alicent had said the words instead, that her mother had comforted her this way, instead of looking upon her with the same confused, uncertain look she tended to have for her. but there was something inside of her that wasn't . . . inherently good, of that, helaena was almost certain. good did not conjure nightmares, did not plague dreams with visions of futures – good was benevolence, kindness, gentility. whatever gifts had been given to her had not been done in good faith.
her lips pull into a smile that does not reach her eyes, a pale hand extended out to gently press fingers to his arm in acknowledgment of his words before said hand falls away just as quickly – an echo of a graze, like being touched by a ghost. “ there is nothing bad in you. ” she repeats, her eyes held onto his face, despite the fact that helaena did not often feel comfortable doing so for anyone. it felt right to do so now, felt imperative that lilac tinted hues hold onto his face.
“ i think it is too late for me. ”