Elijah Wood and Leonardo DiCaprio at the 1994 Academy Awards.
I saw this and I was like WTF IS WINONA RYDER DOING DRESSED UP AS A BOY AND WHY…WAIT…SHE’S NOT YOUNGER ….WAAAT?
Then I read that it was Elijah Wood.
But seriously, SHIT! These two would’ve been TWINS.
A long, gorgeous day in the beautiful Sierras de Cordoba. The place is the National Park “Los Condoritos” in Cordoba. Totally worth visiting if you’re up for some awesome scenery viewing… stuff.
AAHW MAN I SERIOUSLY WANT TO MEET HER.
Disneyland in California, I think.
Cutest fucking Merida in the whole world. I wanna kidnap her and do things to her.
When I lost all hope about there ever being anything, or that there ever was before, bam! He goes and proves that he knows I exist. Just when I am about to turn my back on him and quite honestly just go “fuck it” and let him do whatever with the girl he’s been on and off with for ages, he goes and notices me and I, weak-willed faggot as I am, can’t turn him down or treat him coldly as I would like.
Wait, now that I think about it, I can. And now, I will. However much my heart melts at his useless rant.
rory’s thick scottish accent wowww
(Wo)man’s Best Friend
It was not without fear that she’d taken up on his offer. She’d known somehow that Ser Dontos had so very little chance to save her, that those kind of things only ended well in the songs. When she’d seen him, the Hound, it was fear as always that had driven her back, shocked. But then he offered to help her and she had thought that he must have had other plans and still she hadn’t cared enough of the risks or however she might have ended up. “Anything and anywhere is better than here.” she had thought bitterly and so she’d left with him.
Now the fear was long gone and anger surged her veins as she stared at the brother she once had loved with all her heart, the brother she had hoped would give anything to rescue her, the brother that she had prayed would be the one to kill Joffrey and free her. That love had abruptly sunk beneath the irritation and the desperation that had flared inside of her. They had taken the Hound away, chained him and locked him up as if he was the enemy. She knew the men walked around the camp, aching to get their swords on him and end him and nothing made her more furious. He had kept his promise, he’d told her he’d protect her and take her home and here she was. Standing in the tent facing his brother, though she realized it was not her brother she saw; only the few remains of the young boy that she’d shared laughs and tears with. In his stead stood a king. A cold iron king, a king that thought he knew things he had no insight of.
“He is allied to the Lannisters, Sansa!” He said again.
He’d said it so many times, she was getting tired of the sound of his voice and finally the anger boiled over inside of her. When she spoke, it was so unlike her voice in King’s Landing. She had lied and played the role of the lady so well, that she almost didn’t recognize the sound that erupted from her throat.
“No. He is not, Robb.” She said quietly at first, shaking, but her voice grew harder the more the words spilled out. “I was a prisoner to your enemies. Do you understand? I was there, in the midst of the Lannisters, as a Stark! Do you know what that means!? And all the while you were here and I was patient, I hoped and I prayed for you and yet the only one who moved a finger to protect me, to get me out, was him!”
Tears ran down her cheeks without her realizing it and her brothers face softened but she barely noticed.
“He helped me escape and he’s the only one around me who has kept his word. You cannot take him, your men cannot take him. He brought me to you, safe and sound, knowing here is were I’d be safe.”
A pause stretched out as the both of them took in the words and her small hands turned white as she pressed into fists.
“For saving you, we will have mercy. He can take the black and keep living, as long as it is not here.”
Her brothers words were still cold, unaware or ignorant to her feelings. It was a relief to see him flinch when she shrieked, taking him by surprise:
“He is MINE, Robb! Not yours, not your men’s, not the Lannister’s. He is mine and he will stay with me.”
Then her voice sank to a cold, dark whisper as she closed the space between them. But however icy her voice sounded, it crackled with pain and helplessness as she put a hand on his shoulder.
“I swear by the Seven that whatever damage he receives, I will make sure the one causing it will receive it seven times over. If you send him to the wall, Robb…” She paused and looked down on his lips, avoiding his clear eyes as hers stared bitterly. “Then you are not my brother.”
She stepped back and walked away from the tent, hurrying between soldiers sitting around fires and squires running back and forth ‘til she reached her own tent and hushed away the maids.
After gulping down a cup of wine, damning the bitter taste but taking comfort in it’s warmth, she sat down and tried to calm her thoughts. It’d be useless to deny that she had grown fond of him on their way towards the north. Mostly because she’d compared him to all the others that hadn’t moved to help her, those who hadn’t even hesitated to raise their hands towards her and those who had quietly pitied her, probably those who she hated the most. It was then, when they spoke about her, when they used words like “poor thing” and “how horrible” and their eyes clouded over with the sadness that meant nothing to her, that she had understood how he had felt. Now she ached to have him by her side, after being parted for a mere day. Even though she was surrounded now with allies, with people that referred to her as their princess and were prepared to die for her, she felt just as helpless as in Kings Landing. With a sudden gasp, she realized that the only time she had felt some kind of strength or even truth, was when he’d been with her. These people meant nothing to her, not with their promises of loyalty. He had never promised her loyalty or even submitted to her even after he had vowed to protect her and even so, he had been the most loyal of them all. The bitter taste of the wine filled her mouth again as she drank and gulped down the remains in the cup and it burned as hot as the tears rolling down her cheeks.
People entered, heavy steps along with light ones and her maids gasped when they saw her leaning on her arms on the table. She did not see who stood by the door and the maids were too busy asking her if she’d like something to eat, some water, if she was well and if she needed anything at all. Angrily and without patience she snapped at them:
“Leave me be!”
And their retreating steps were covered by a barking of dark and raspy laughter. Her heart caught up in her throat as she looked back and found him standing there with his armor and his sword returned to him.
“Sandor!” She said and stood up abruptly but was too slow to realize what a bad idea that had been after the various cups of wine. But she did not fall, because the solid grip of his arms were on hers, steadying her and looking at her with humor in his eyes.
* * * * *
He’d laughed before he could help himself. It was so unlike her to snap like that, even when they had spent days travelling together. The poor maids had looked shocked at her reaction while they hurriedly walked out of the tent. Then his laugh had stopped when she’d stood up and almost fallen over at the same time. He held her now, his hands closed tightly around her arms and she was warm. Her normally pearl colored skin was blushed hard now and the red on her cheeks was almost as bright as her hair. Then he realized - almost laughing again - that she smelled like wine.
“Sandor!” She had said and looked into his eyes with a relief that seemed to grab onto his heart and squeeze ‘til it hurt him. Then she had straightened up and put a hand onto the table to stabilize herself. “You are not being made to take the black, are you?”
He was unsure about how he felt about the concern reflected in the sky blue of her eyes. He was used to the pity, to the way she stared forward and unyielding as she lied and even her doubtful look, but her concern was something brand new to him. His muscles relaxed, his smile dropping.
“I’ll stay with you, little bird. I won’t vow that I will protect you forever or that I will serve you until the day that you die, that’s it what knights do. But I’ll stay with you.”
The rosy lips in her blushing face curled up into a smile, the most real smile he’d seen her wear since the death of her father. Taking a step forward, she put a hand on his arm and looked up to him.
“Then what are you?”
His lips matched only half of her smile, mocking, as he answered:
Jason Momoa and Peter Dinklage, Golden Globes 2012