#daddy ned

[macksartblock]

weird timing but s1 dads and their bastard fathers (and frank)

[mageswithcats]

Me liking the villain/antagonist:

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Waking Ned Devine (1998) - Ian Bannen 

I could go for a little three way action with Ian and Fionnula Flanagan. David Kelly can watch, join in or get the fuck out. I don’t care.

[photoset #4 of 4]

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

Simpsons fans and wrestling fans, here's something for you all to enjoy.

[gaygollum]

been rewatching pushing daisies (bad for me!) and my entire brain is just lee pace as ned the piemaker. i want this mans hand in marriage!!!

[bidamonalbarn]

cannot stop singing the new fox szn song 😭

[mirabellemoira]

I’ve always appreciated Ned stark but hmmmm ever since I realized the NedAlicent potential the man has become very, very hot

[mejcinta]

Ned killed Lady, killing a part of Sansa's soul. Viserys did the same to Rhaenyra by murdering Aemma. Fathers unintentionally severing parts of their daughters to appease others.

[maelisdrafts]

Our Secret Garden - Prologue

An Oberyn Martell x f!oc fiction

Synopsis:

This is the tale of two souls as different as fire and ice, snow and sand—two opposites who seem destined never to coexist. How could they ever find harmony? The odds are stacked against them, their differences insurmountable. Yet, every so often, Fate steps in with a twist, transforming the impossible into reality. After all, even the harshest deserts have, on rare occasions, been graced by snow. And sometimes, against all logic, opposites don’t just attract—they create something extraordinary.

Masterlist

Oberyn I - 279 AC

Oberyn always thrived in big crowds. He loved the loudness and the attention that came with it. However, tonight, he couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy the party. He should have been happy; after all, it was his dear sister’s wedding to a prince—a match only little girls dared to dream of. But that was exactly the problem. Elia was now married to Prince Rhaegar, the Mad King’s son. And now, his sister was to live in King’s Landing, surrounded by danger, while he and his brother remained in Dorne, the sea separating them.

Oberyn was worried, and he couldn’t do anything about it. In the middle of the room, Elia was dancing in the arms of her husband, a wide smile decorating her face. She was glowing. The marriage was sealed, the vows had been said, and yet Oberyn couldn’t help but feel as though he had failed his little sister—the one he had sworn to protect many moons ago.

With his head lost in thoughts, Oberyn moved towards the gardens. He needed to get away from the overwhelming sounds he usually enjoyed so much. Once outside, the loudness faded, and finally, he could breathe. He looked around him.

“How disappointing,” he thought. These royal gardens were nothing compared to the Water Gardens waiting for him in Dorne. How he wished he could go back in time, back to when Elia and he would spend endless hours watching the night sky and admiring the stars.

He started walking away from the castle, stopping in front of a fountain. Atop it stood a dragon, an eternal reminder of the ruling family that had just taken the most important part of him away. After glaring at the statue for gods know how long, he finally tore his gaze away and began walking deeper into the garden, farther from the celebrations.

As he looked around carelessly, his eyes stopped on the bushes at the far end of the gardens. As he inspected it a bit closer, he noticed an opening breaking the perfect symmetry of the vegetation. Oberyn glanced back at the party. It likely wouldn’t end until the early hours of the morning, and it was barely past midnight. He figured he had time for a small excursion. Besides, he was too intrigued to walk away.

Was it curiosity driving him, or perhaps the wine? He knew he had indulged in one too many glasses, clouding his better judgment. But he didn't care. He needed that distraction.

Hesitantly, the newly titled prince approached the opening. Once he stood next to it, he noted that the top of the gap reached just a bit higher than his thighs. He looked down at his attire: a yellow robe, the color of his house, similar to the ones he wore back home, except for the intricate golden details sewn to form little suns stabbed by spears—the symbols of House Martell. On his belt, instead of a simple loop, there was the head of a viper with rubies for eyes. His clothes must have taken an incredible amount of time to craft, yet despite his respect for the robe’s makers, he felt no guilt as he lowered himself to the ground. Curiosity had won.

But was it really curiosity fueling his actions, or was it his need to escape his reality, to keep his mind occupied with something—anything—else? He didn’t know, and truthfully, it didn’t matter.

As he crossed the threshold, his eyes widened at the scene unfolding before him. Bathed in moonlight, at the heart of a small clearing, stood a gazebo crafted delicately from the finest metal. Vegetation had taken over, with the reddest flowers he had ever seen climbing over its roof. In the background, at the bottom of the cliff that marked the garden’s edge, the relentless sea crashed against the shore, creating an ethereal rhythm.

As Oberyn drew closer to the intricate structure, he noticed a statue standing between the gazebo and the abyss. Intrigued, he walked toward it. The statue depicted a woman, carved so realistically it seemed as if she might move at any moment.

A soft breeze began, likely stirred by the waves, guided by the moon.

Oberyn stopped breathing.

The woman, whom he had thought carved from the most exquisite marble, came to life. It started with her hair, gently swayed by the wind, then her arms, which moved to wrap around her body to shield herself from the chill.

Oberyn, as if in a trance, took a step forward—and accidentally made his presence known as his foot snapped a twig beneath it.

Startled by the sound, the woman turned to face him. The young prince froze.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but think that the lady before him, with her startled, doe-like gaze, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was pearly white, perfectly complemented by her dress, which seemed to glow under the moonlight. Her hair was the darkest shade of black, deeper than a night devoid of stars and moon. And her lips… gods, her lips. The red flowers adorning the gazebo paled in comparison.

Her chestnut eyes were locked on his, and all he could do was pray they would never look away. Why were the gods granting him this sight? He couldn’t comprehend it. This, surely, must be the heavens so many longed for.

As he marvelled at her beauty, he heard the most enchanting sound—a voice more divine than the intricate melodies played at the party.

“Who are you?” she asked, her words carried on the breeze.

“Oberyn Martell,” he answered after a pause, stumbling over his words under the weight of her gaze. “Who are you?” he asked in return, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The breeze carried his question to her, and once more, she spoke:

“Eira Stark.”

[fanartka]

[calisources]

SEAN BEAN AS LORD EDDARD STARK IN HBO'S GAME OF THRONES ALL APPEARANCES.

base icons are 190x120 in order to be use for any type of icon template.

the icons are already sharpened and slightly color corrected.

Sean Bean ( b. 1959 ) is an English Actor.

Game of Thrones s is a high fantasy show set in the game of thrones universe, based on the song of ice and fire universe.

icons include scenes of blood, and while no graphic depictions of his death are shown, if you know, you know.

remember to reblog if you save/use. credit somewhere if you save.

this icon pack are 3$ THROUGH PAYHIP or  paypal or buy me a coffee through ko-fi. it truly helps me a lot.  this special price is up to november 12th.

719 icons. you can also get the base icons for free if you reblog this post and show me evidence of proper credit.

[boilyerheid]

30 for solving or 51 for joplittle for the ask game?

"This must be a joke." Tom sounds distinctly unamused as he squints at the email, pinching the screen on his tablet and blowing it up like he's somehow misread it. About to say something about not working all night as well as all day, Edward leans over his shoulder and then shuts his mouth when he sees the subject line. The paused episode of Bake Off's bread week will have to wait. "And not very good one."

Tom isn't just not in charge of planning the office Christmas do this year - their first proper one since lockdown - but he's been left off the team entirely. The email comes directly from Mr Crozier, and Edward scans the attached message about taking it easy and having some fun for a change, Thomas and opens his mouth again... before once more deciding against it when he sees the vein in Tom's temple ticking.

"I'll put the kettle on," he settles on instead, and beats a hasty retreat for the kitchen as his boyfriend jabs his phone open - muttering darkly about how the fuck Henry Le Vesconte is meant to plan a party without them all getting arrested. The phrase Fitzjames nepotism chases Edward all the way to the kettle with a sigh.

He's going to have to wait for his chance to awkwardly lust over Paul Hollywood's unsettling blue eyes and fatherly shirts, isn't he? Probably for the best.

[introspectivememories]

[vashti-lives]

[catstarkapologist]

I was talking with my friend today, one of my only friends that has watched game of thrones, and we were talking about just how many dilfs game of thrones has given us. Safe to say, one of the realest conversations I've ever had. We didn't even use names, just kept calling them daddy Stark and daddy Lannister

[boogiewoogieweeb]

#also if you’re like me (insane) and also see edward as left handed the implications of the left hand bleeding #ned little holding his hand out in school as the school teacher switches a cane against it #trying to make him learn a pattern that’s unnatural to him #[in an insane voice] actually the fact that edward’s left hand is his most visible sign of illness is intentional and incredibly meaningful!

@maedhrus helen, don't you dare hide these additions in the tags!

thinking again about the edward little death vision of his father comforting him after a dog bite. thinking about how his left hand is the one bandaged. edward little who once held his hand out to an animal that betrayed the trust he showed it, his wound reopening as once again his empathy is exploited