My name is Allegra and this is where I post things.

4th May 2014

Photoset reblogged from One-sided conversations. with 96,931 notes

May the 4th be with you!

Source: jacknicholson

2nd May 2014

Photoset reblogged from One-sided conversations. with 106,436 notes

hiccupthedragonconqueror:

mydraco:

remember may 2nd, 1998

the battle of Hogwarts

Never forget

Source: mydraco

29th April 2014

Photo reblogged from Icecream&Fireflies with 18 notes

mademoisellesansa:


Inspired by this drabble [x] by circus bones

Sometimes she thought of another young Targaryen princess, skin burnt sand where hers was cold milk, eyes sparkling emeralds where hers were pale amethysts - another young Targaryen princess with another black dragon in another land and time both lost to the ceaseless flow of bloody history. If Rhaenys had lived, Daenerys mused, she would be older than her now - a smiling rose from the Dornish desert blooming in a court of silver haired beauties. Yet, somehow, in Daenerys’ mind, the other princess was always a child, a young girl of sunshine and laughter and fearless smiles, too young and too lovely and too trusting to know fear.
She had had a dragon too - a black dragon named Balerion - reborn in loving feline kisses and soft velvet paws to serve and protect a mistress as gentle as Aegon was cruel, as loving as Aegon was ambitious, as innocent as Aegon was stern. Daenerys let her mind dwell on that dark night - the night where a kitten proved to be no more than a kitten and a father no more than a ghost. She envisioned the blood and the screams and the mother’s tears as a shadowy monster painted the night with blood and put out the sun. Forever. She willed Balerion into the great winged beast of old - imagining claws and wings and fiery breath onto the frail and helpless frame of a kitten. She tried to imagine the fury of the Targaryen heritage turning the Mountain into dust - tearing apart the slavers who auctioned a young scribe upon the block, her golden eyes deep pools of fear - frightening the Masters and their empty crucifixes, robbed of the blood of innocent children - guarding the home of a lost young girl as she stood, waiting, while the servants shut the red door.
But the wings and claws and fire always melted away, leaving behind nothing but a helpless black kitten, tearing futilely at a Mountain with his harmless claws. Because children are kittens - innocent and soft and loving - and dragons are stories and legends we tell them to help them feel safe at night. So many dead children, Daenerys wanted to weep, so many lost children. Why is it the innocents who always suffer? A dragon does not weep, she tells herself. A dragon has no tears. I am the legends brought to life, the stories given flesh and bone. I am a dragon and I will avenge the children. With fire and blood.

mademoisellesansa:

Inspired by this drabble [x] by circus bones

Sometimes she thought of another young Targaryen princess, skin burnt sand where hers was cold milk, eyes sparkling emeralds where hers were pale amethysts - another young Targaryen princess with another black dragon in another land and time both lost to the ceaseless flow of bloody history. If Rhaenys had lived, Daenerys mused, she would be older than her now - a smiling rose from the Dornish desert blooming in a court of silver haired beauties. Yet, somehow, in Daenerys’ mind, the other princess was always a child, a young girl of sunshine and laughter and fearless smiles, too young and too lovely and too trusting to know fear.

She had had a dragon too - a black dragon named Balerion - reborn in loving feline kisses and soft velvet paws to serve and protect a mistress as gentle as Aegon was cruel, as loving as Aegon was ambitious, as innocent as Aegon was stern. Daenerys let her mind dwell on that dark night - the night where a kitten proved to be no more than a kitten and a father no more than a ghost. She envisioned the blood and the screams and the mother’s tears as a shadowy monster painted the night with blood and put out the sun. Forever. She willed Balerion into the great winged beast of old - imagining claws and wings and fiery breath onto the frail and helpless frame of a kitten. She tried to imagine the fury of the Targaryen heritage turning the Mountain into dust - tearing apart the slavers who auctioned a young scribe upon the block, her golden eyes deep pools of fear - frightening the Masters and their empty crucifixes, robbed of the blood of innocent children - guarding the home of a lost young girl as she stood, waiting, while the servants shut the red door.

But the wings and claws and fire always melted away, leaving behind nothing but a helpless black kitten, tearing futilely at a Mountain with his harmless claws. Because children are kittens - innocent and soft and loving - and dragons are stories and legends we tell them to help them feel safe at night. So many dead children, Daenerys wanted to weep, so many lost children. Why is it the innocents who always suffer? A dragon does not weep, she tells herself. A dragon has no tears. I am the legends brought to life, the stories given flesh and bone. I am a dragon and I will avenge the children. With fire and blood.

Tagged: ASoIaF

29th April 2014

Post reblogged from Asha! Asha Queen! with 96 notes

mademoisellesansa:

circusbones:

((I couldn’t help it. Prompted by this. I’m sure I am not the only one.))

.

“Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar’s daughter. A precious little thing, younger than your girls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered what happened to him. Rhaenys liked to pretend he was the true Balerion, the black dread of old, but I imagine the Lannisters taught her the difference between a kitten and a dragon quick enough the day they broke down her door.”

-Varys to Eddard Stark, A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

.

Kitten. Just a kitten.

He remembers her chubby little arms, brown like her mother’s, holding him close. She was one of his first memories. He’d be tucked up under her chin, giving her a grooming lick as she prattled on and on in his big ears. Balerion, she called him. After the dragon. Her furry little dragon whelp, she told him, nuzzling his fur.

Her mother called her Rhaenys. He called her His Girl.

She was a little human, yes. She was also so pretty, brown-skinned and black-haired where her baby brother was silver and pale. The humans made a great fuss over that baby, the kitten gathered that boy-children meant something to humans.

He didn’t much care. She was -his- human! Rhaenys pet him and fed him cream and gave him little toys on strings to pounce. She would giggle, and tell him that he was a stalking dragon! Balerion felt a dragon, too. He brought her his first mouse, and she was so proud of him! Her Septa threw it away, yes, but that was fine.

His little girl was proud.

Sometimes she was sad, too. Her mother was sickly, her father away at war, and her grandfather, the King, wasn’t quite right. She was often alone, without human playmates.

Balerion made it better, though. He would curl up with her every night, listening to her talk to him until she fell asleep, before he prowled off to practice his stalking skills. She was safe, in her bed.

That one night was different, though. The air didn’t taste right.

He was stalking in the halls when he saw men go to her mother’s room, heard the screaming inside.

His little paws fled for his Girl. She’d heard them too. She’d scrambled under her bed to hide, as the kitten had so many times himself. She’d learned that from him, he was proud. She would be okay…

Then the man came and found her.

The man yanked her out and threw his little girl on the bed and drew his sword.

Balerion was a dragon.

HE WAS A DRAGON.

He tried to bite. He tried to tear through the leather, but his teeth were milk, his claws too little. The man kicked him away, breaking him against the wall.

The man killed his Girl.

His Girl, whose mother called her Rhaenys, with her smooth brown skin and bright purple eyes. He cut her with his sword, so many times, and carried her away…

He was a pile. Fur and bruises and blood.

He was no dragon.

A dragon would have saved her.

A DRAGON WOULD HAVE SAVED HER.

A kitten who couldn’t save his human and her mother didn’t deserve to survive that day. But he did. He did live.

He was Balerion, and he survived.

He hissed and he bit. He stole meals and he clawed the hands of these new people, these people who’d taken his home, killed his Girl and her family, DARED to make it theirs. He was the best mouser in the castle, too, knowing they’d never get rid of him because of that.

But he was a dragon, and he became hard, mean, vengeful.

….Until the Boy.

The boy who loved the babies, the other kittens in the castle. His brother had cut open a mother, once, full of kittens…Balerion had pissed all over his bedclothes for it. But the Boy….Tommen. He wasn’t like his brother. He wasn’t like any of them, who’d come to his castle and taken away his Girl.

The Boy was very much like his Girl. Soft and kind and trying to pet all the Castle’s cats and kittens, name them after knights and ladies. All the humans around him were terrible but the boy…

It took a while, before the Boy warmed to the mangy, mean old mouser. Balerion curled around him, purred, let him pet his fur-covered scars. The Boy named Tommen smiled, knew him by the name the Girl had given him, announced him High Lord of his court.

He would be better, this time.

NO ONE would hurt his Boy, the one who protected the kittens, who only wanted to play.

He was Balerion, named by Rhaenys. He was a dragon, and nothing would happen to THIS kitten he’d adopted.

image

Tagged: ASoIaF

29th April 2014

Post reblogged from The History of A Song of Ice & Fire with 1,301 notes

The saddest line I’ve ever encountered in any book, or: Why show watchers need to read the damn books.

theghostinwinterfell:

“Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar’s daughter. A precious little thing, younger than your girls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered what happened to him. Rhaenys liked to pretend he was the true Balerion, the black dread of old, but I imagine the Lannisters taught her the difference between a kitten and a dragon quick enough the day they broke down her door.”

-Varys to Eddard Stark, A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

This is sad enough on it’s own, it really is, but it requires context in order to really appreciate it. The first thing you need to know is that little Balerion is still living in the castle. That last black cat that Arya can’t catch, the mean, scarred little animal that attacks servants and interrupts Robert and Tywin at dinner, making off with the roast, is Balerion, Rhaenys’ kitten. So just take a moment to imagine that little kitten, bruised and bleeding, latched onto the boot of Ser Amory Lorch, trying to bite through the leather, trying to save his little girl, staring up at her as she’s stabbed over fifty times. Imagine him being kicked away as they wrap her body up in a Lannister cloak and take it away. Imagine the kitten following them, limping, to the throne room, where the skull of the great dragon Balerion hangs. The bodies of his little girl, and her mother, and her baby brother, are all placed at the feet of the man who sits where the little girl’s father used to sit. And the kitten looks up, and sees the dragon’s head mounted over the throne, and he knows how small and weak he is. If I were a dragon, he thinks, I could have saved her. And so, over the years, he becomes the hardest motherfucker in the entire castle. He does what he can to hurt these new men who murdered his little girl and stole her home. He’d kill them all if he was able. But he’s still too much kitten, not enough dragon.

Tagged: ASoIaF

Source: weirwoodthrone

29th April 2014

Photo reblogged from Asha! Asha Queen! with 470 notes

crossingwinter:


If I were a dragon, Balerion thought, I could have saved her. Rhaenys. My little girl. He would have killed them all if he had been able. But he was still too much kitten, not enough dragon. [x]

IT’S OK.  I DIDN’T NEED THESE FEELINGS ANYMORE. 

crossingwinter:

If I were a dragon, Balerion thought, I could have saved her. Rhaenys. My little girl. He would have killed them all if he had been able. But he was still too much kitten, not enough dragon. [x]

IT’S OK.  I DIDN’T NEED THESE FEELINGS ANYMORE. 

Tagged: ASoIaF

Source: asongoficecreamandfireflies

6th April 2014

Post with 1 note

Finished my Game of Thrones rewatch with 3 hours to spare!

Tagged: game of thrones

4th April 2014

Post

Two more days! Oberyn!

Tagged: game of thronesasoiaf

24th March 2014

Post

I had this dream last night where Sam and Dean were therapists for all the supernatural beasties.

Tagged: supernatural

12th March 2014

Photoset reblogged from Official Doctor Who Tumblr with 14,704 notes

Source: sonicsetting24601