she's a salty little pisser
12 October 2012 @ 06:21 pm
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the days that never came;
an amy/eleven fix-it ficathon | by northernqueens and killdarlings

time has brought your heart to meCollapse )
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she's a salty little pisser

The bells ringing round always makes her heart stop, just for a moment.  There is something eerie about it; the bells of London clanging through the empty city, driven on by their timers, with hardly anyone to listen.  She still hasn't got used to it, the streets being so totally deserted, with only the occasional walker ambling by, an easy kill.  Ygritte sees hoards every once in a while, out on looting missions, but for the most part, all she sees are the four faces of her companions, grown so familiar to her now that they're all imprinted on the back of her lids when she closes her eyes against the watery sun.

i said don't kill me with your buckshotCollapse )
 
 
Current Music: winter's heir by sea wolf
 
 
she's a salty little pisser

She nearly laughs as she brings the fifth pigeon down, her arrow stuck through its eye, the explosion of blood bright against the bleak London sky.  She doesn't know how she feels about calling it London anymore.  It doesn't feel the same; it's a London besieged, a London at war.

The war is going badly.

your face and hands are smeared with bloodCollapse )
 
 
she's a salty little pisser

Rita isn’t quite sure when it happens, when they stop just fucking and start being them.  They were Rita Skeeter and Alecto Carrow, but then it seemed they were Rita and Alecto, and now, after a few weeks, when she thinks of who they are, she has to say it all in one breath.  RitaandAlecto.  It fills up her chest every time, and sets her to smiling, rather like an idiot.  She has to remind herself to scowl at her co-workers to keep them from thinking she’s gone soft.

you want three wishesCollapse )

 
 
she's a salty little pisser
When it is all said and done, and wild Rickon has sunk his teeth into the throats of all the enemies of his blonde, one-eared lion bride, gathering a tenuous, nervous peace around the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa Stark washes Alayne Stone from her auburn hair and Petyr Baelish's screams from the inside of her skull.  When she rides for Winterfell the next morning, they are still scraping his skin off the rocks below the Moon Door.  Her face is hard as she slows her horse, and snow gathers in halos around her bright head. She does not yield, but clenches her jaw ever tighter.  Wolves are not kind to mockingbirds, my lord. 
your soul ripped from your stomach, you gave an awful cryCollapse )
 
 
she's a salty little pisser
15 March 2012 @ 10:30 pm
Ygritte stirs just as the dark is beginning to peel back from the skyline, torn uncomprehendingly from sleep by the barking of a dog, the angry shouting of a man on the street below. She opens her mouth to moan in protest, but no sound comes; instead, she bares her teeth to the world, and thus greets the day.
i'll be with you behind the couch when they comeCollapse )
 
 
she's a salty little pisser
14 January 2012 @ 06:22 pm
i'm over here now, because of reasons.  same rules as before.  personal posts will be f-locked, mixes and fic and things of that nature will be open.

i think that's it?