©

"Last season, nobody knew about ["Orphan Black"] when we were shooting, so we kind of had this little private moment. Now it’s public and you have to sort of quiet up the noise — of peoples’ opinions, peoples’ criticisms, peoples’ love. The pressure is people knowing about you and saying, ‘OK, let’s see what you can do." — Tatiana Maslany, LA Times

"Last season, nobody knew about ["Orphan Black"] when we were shooting, so we kind of had this little private moment. Now it’s public and you have to sort of quiet up the noise — of peoples’ opinions, peoples’ criticisms, peoples’ love. The pressure is people knowing about you and saying, ‘OK, let’s see what you can do." Tatiana Maslany, LA Times


Joffrey would have been a worse king than Aerys ever was.

Joffrey would have been a worse king than Aerys ever was.

And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours.

outellect:

on a scale from 1 to sansa stark, how much do you regret your childhood crush

Happy 17th Birthday Maisie Williams! (April 15, 1997)

Happy birthday, Lis!!

bcdaily:

In honor of the lovely thepondlife's birthday, I have a special birthday gift snippet to present of the ever-mysterious chapter 26. It's not distinctly spoilery, but it's not distinctly unspoilery either, so I do hope you enjoy. Plus, it has Lily/Sirius fun. Who doesn’t like Lily/Sirius fun? =D

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"I know where we could go", Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if noone else does. He’ll call me “little sister” and muss my hair. It was a long way, though, and she didn’t think she could get there by herself. She hadn’t even been able to reach Riverrun. “We could go to the wall.” 

Sandor’s laugh was a growl. “The little wolf bitch wants to join the Night’s watch, does she?

"My brother is on the wall," she said stubbornly. 

peregrintoolc:

I’m thankful for all the different ways I can eat potatoes

Good, Decent (FIC, James/Lily)

bcdaily:

Another drabble-that-isn’t-a-drabble, in honor of our lovely James’s birthday. I don’t know why I have an uncontrollable fascination with James + Head Boy, but I really do. Here’s that, plus the actual prompt, which was ‘James is tired’.

            He’d been running himself ragged for over a month, and Lily waited with something akin to awe for the inevitable crash.

            End-of-term sixth year was meant to be the easy one. No ghastly level exams, no frightening graduation, no bothersome rules against magic outside of Hogwarts keeping you down. Most of Year 6 was happily lazing off, but James Potter had apparently missed the memo. Lily had never seen someone so all over the place: Quidditch meetings and Transfiguration Club demonstrations, extra lessons with McGonagall and even a 2nd year study group someone had apparently conned him into taking over (which had turned into a 2nd year study group and several detentions, as James had apparently decided that the best way to teach the Goblin Rebellions was to reenact them in the middle of the library, a hands-on method which Madam Pince had not similarly revered). He was everywhere at once, and yet nowhere at all. It was fascinating to behold, and confounding to discern.

            And now this. Lily had to admit, she almost wasn’t surprised. When she’d noticed Remus had been absent from lessons that morning, she’d reckoned her fellow Prefect was fighting another losing battle with his tempestuous immune system—certainly something that deserved a bit of sympathy, even if it inevitably left her alone to conquer the mountains of paperwork they had planned to sort through that night. Thanks to a rowdy case of spring fever and the aforementioned Great Hogwarts Goblin Rebellion of ‘77, Gryffindor had managed to accumulate a rather impressive amount of disciplinary reports that month. It was pure dumb luck that it turned out to be Lily and Remus’s turn to trudge through the accompanying red tape. Lily despised paperwork. She despised even more having to do paperwork alone. But she’d already gone and resigned herself to the task when—quite like the unstoppable hurricane he seemed to have become—James Potter came rushing through the portrait hole, a flurry of limbs and words and movement. He headed straight for her.

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