purple cushion


wizarding placesollivanders. the shop was described as narrow and shabby with peeling gold letters over the door of the shop read: ollivanders: makers of fine wands since 382 B.C. the shop’s display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it.

anonymous asked:

It was all a lie. Everything that had been, could be, or would be. But she shed no tears, this too was part of the fun.

Zaharinka is a False Queen. Her advisors, those lords and ladies who think they know, don’t think that she’s aware of this. She can see it in the way their eyes slide to each other with every royal proclamation, like they’re humoring her. Like she’s a child, not worthy of their respect or consideration.

Her lips, the deep red of royalty (painted), curve into a smile that has more to do with violence than humor. This is all part of the game.

She strides from her royal chambers, head up, gown fluttering around her ankles as if afraid to touch her. The guards outside her door fall into step at her heel, the only faithful ones left. They’re enough, reminders of an unhappy childhood (she used to call them Leonid and Loke), and familiar. Sometimes they’ll follow her into her chamber and speak of the past, the gardens, the food, the lack of roles they juggled, everything. Sometimes that’s all that keeps her grounded and focused.

The sound of them behind her, the steady clanking of their armor, is all that’s grounding her now.

Lord Kiril is standing at the entrance of the war room, looking handsome in slim cut robes, white fabric striking against brown skin. His dark eyes are relieved as they land on her. “Your Majesty, they’re about to begin.” He opens the door for her, ducking his head to indicate that she enter before him.

Betrayer, her mind whispers as she nods to him and sweeps past. There’s an icy fire in her, something that’s tempering the steel in her spine, something that’s making her finally gain the perspective she needs.

Chin up, she thinks, this is the fun part. She takes her place at the front of the room, ignoring the chattering of those who would be her puppet master. Lord Lazar, the old fool, is trying to hide the smug smile tucked into his jowls, trying not to let his eyes linger on the cluster of dots on the map in front of them all. The dots say that there are 10,000 men about to march on Garbulia’s neighboring country,  ten thousand man ready to finally test the border.

The dots can say whatever they want.

“Lords. Ladies,” she greets and takes her seat. This throne is less ornate than it was in her mother’s time, in her father’s time, but the deep purple cushions allow her to lounge. She does, propping her chin in one hand. “Begin.”

“Your Majesty,” Lord Lazar begins immediately, “I’m pleased to report that our troops are finally in place. With your word, they’ll march on the border town of Marin.” There’s a feverish light in his eyes as he says, “We will finally be able to take back our land.”

“Hmmm,” she hums, dark eyes flicking over the men and women in front of her. They’re a combination of bored and anticipatory. Loke is at the back of the room, watching as she is. She nods to him and he begins to jot down names. “I imagine you all know how much military experience I have.” She waits for the amused looks to be squelched, hiding the curl of her own lip. “What do you suggest my next move be after winning Marin?”

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Mill Cottage Indoor Aesthetic Moodboard

Robert’s got his magazines out again. White cupboard without handles may be off the cards but it doesn’t mean he can’t indulge his suave posh needs elsewhere. With books and comics at easy reach from a sofa that makes Robert feel sexy and powerful. And a desk he can conduct his ‘business’ on, ie Aaron.

At least he’s listened to Beck’s advice and held unto the Mill’s core architecture and old charm, just because Aaron kept teasing how he was right about everything and Rob loves when Aaron is confident. 

Their bedroom is inspired by Aaron’s green top that he uses to make sweater paws. With one purple cushion thrown in to pay homage to their old bedroom which was inspired by Rob’s purple suit.

Obviously he’d design a cute little space for Liv to actually do some work for once, and also so she can draw her masterpieces on the condition that she stops drawing Robert as a monkey. 

And finally he’d make an underground boys club den for Aaron and him to get drunk, play darts and xbox without Liv hogging it or cockblocking them from cuddling and making out. 

Chapter 1

Masterpost and series summary here.

Summary: Sam goes through the daily duties of the King, but trouble is brewing, and he is becoming increasingly worried about his ability to stop it.

Characters/Relationships: Sam x Ruby, Crowley, Alistair

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: themes of rape, themes of torture, physical intimacy

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE. Well, the first chapter at least. That’s something, right? I want to thank @impala-dreamer and @moonlitskinwalker for their invaluable help on this entire story. Seriously. Give them a cookie. They deserve it. And I hope you all think it’s as awesome as they do!! 

Sam was perched atop the purple velvet cushion of his throne, a slight lean in his back, elbows on the armrests, hands clasped, looking every bit the image of a renaissance painting. He observed how his demons busied themselves throughout the throne room, walking in and out, across and around, babbling about hunters, carrying dusty scrolls and magic books. Their footwear tapped and scraped along the stone floors, mixing with the homogenous murmur of their voices. The great hall was almost always busy and never quiet. Even in silence, the lofty arched ceilings magnified even the softest of sounds, causing them to echo in the cool, damp air. Every action belonging to this room was exposed and enlarged by the acoustics, matching the weight of each decision Sam made. He carefully calculated each one, permitting nothing to be insignificant.

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Daddy’s Little Monster (Joker x Reader)

Originally posted by grysamobojcow

Warning(s): Smut, Daddy Kinks, Unprotected Sex, BDSM 

Pairing: Joker x Reader

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing smut, so please, leave critiques to help me improve.   

“Get your ass over here…” The deep voice from the Joker barked, his sapphire irises were wild with pure anger and raw lust. You of course obeyed the crime lord, quickly shuffling towards the green haired man, your head lowered making sure that you didn’t make any eye contact with him. 

“Yes, M-Mister J–”

With quick and jerking motion, Joker pushed you onto the large bed, not caring that he knocked the wind out of your small frame. His face twist in that of disgust, while his foggy eyes lingered onto your body. His heavy and violent gaze sent a wave of fear with a mixture of yearning throughout your being. Your arms rested carefully on your chest while your wide eyes were glued onto the dark ceiling.  

“What did you just call me?” He spoke, his guff voice now an octave lower than usual. You didn’t say anything, you weren’t entirely sure if you could speak or not. You didn’t want to upset the Joker anymore than he already was, and you’re terrified that if you did say something wrong you might get punished.

A cold and calloused hand yanked you up by the face like a rag doll, a small yelp escaped your throat while your hands shot up and began to grip onto his cold wrist. Joker’s sharp fingernails dug into your skin, a shock of pain slowly traveled towards your cheeks.    

“Answer me, {Name}.” He said, his wild blue eyes glaring hard at you. Your lips were forcefully puckered by his hand that aggressively tugged and grabbed at your face. Nothing but muted mumbles came from you. Joker watch you struggle to answer him, his sickly yet handsome face stretching in a wide smile that showed off his silver grills.

“C’mon, baby…I can’t hear ya’! Speak louder for Daddy.” He growled.

“I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have called y-you by your name…”

“Mhm, bad little girls don’t get the right to call their Daddy by their names, right?” Joker hummed out, his free hand wondering around your hot body. His icy touch made your breath hitch, and your lower regions tingle with familiar excitement. You nodded your head while you pushed your body against his. Slowly, Joker let go of your face, only for his hand to lightly rest on your neck. His long fingers traced old bruises that littered on your numb skin. 

With a swift movement, Joker pulled away from you, earning him a moan of longing from you. 

“Undress yourself, princess…” He whispered, “Daddy doesn’t want to rip your pretty lingerie.”

You bit your lip while you began to unhook your expensive bra, your perky breast now exposed and free from the garment. Joker eyes were glued onto your half naked body, his chest rising and falling dramatically, and his heavy breathing echoed and bounced off of the cream colored walls. Your thumbs played with the hem of your silk panties while your face mimic that of a little girl.

“Are you gonna punish me, Daddy?” You asked, pulling the baby blue underwear down your {skin tone} legs, the silk fabric fell around your bruised ankles. “I’ve been such a good girl, I’ve done what you ask me too–”

“Turn around; face down, sweetie.” Joker muttered, interrupting you. Eagerly, you scurried towards the pillows that messily rested on the king sized bed, your face pressed against one of the many purple cushions while you stuck your ass up towards the air, showing off your now wet womanhood. 

The heavy sound of footsteps ringed in your ears, the violent noise of metal objects clashing against each other made your stomach drop and flip with morbid anticipation. The crime lord was collecting his special toys

His favorite punishment tools.

You crossed your legs, adding pressure between your legs, easing the unforgiving twinge that your lower regions endured. You wanted him to touch you, to ease your aching body with his. 

“A-Ah…Daddy, please.” You begged, your voice smothered out by the numerous pillows that your hot face rested in, but he somehow still heard you. 

“Please what, darling?”

“Mmm, touch m-me, please!” 

Joker tossed the multiple sex toys onto the bed, his fingers unbuckling the name brand belt that held his expensive pants up. The sound of his belt hitting the floor sent a new wave of excitement through your core. With a swift movement his hands wondered on top of your hips, his fingers jabbing against your skin.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked.

You nodded your head. He smiled and planted a sloppy kiss onto your ass, his lips were soft and cold against your skin. Slowly his ring clad fingers traveled down towards your womanhood, and with a blink of an eye his digits steadily rub small circles on top of your clit. The older man pinched and teased your bundle of nerves, making you even wetter by the second. You shut your eyes as his thumb pressed against your clitoris and his middle finger teased at your entrance. This was going agonizingly slow, you just wanted him to fuck you already, but you knew Joker didn’t just fuck, he plays mind games with you until you’re broken and begging for more. 

“C’mon, Daddy–Ah!” 

He slipped his middle finger inside you, cutting off your sentence. He roughly pumped his finger in and out of you, curling them and twisting them around inside you. Your juices made his fingers slick and wet. The sound of his fingers thumping into your core blended in with your loud moans. You were going to cum, you knew you were. You held onto his wrist, forcing him to push deeper inside you. 

“Does my little princess like it when Daddy fingers her pussy?”

All you did was moan out, your vision dotted with black spots, you were seeing stars. Joker’s fingers were pushing you over the edge, so much so, that your back painfully arched and your body covered in cold sweat. His free hand rubbed your back in the same manner of how you should pet a cat. 

“Oh, I’m so c-close!” You yelped, Joker chuckled and with a slowly but forceful movement, he pulled his fingers out of you. You choked out a whine while the tickling feeling of your juices trickled down your inner thigh.

“I can’t let you get ya’ rocks off yet,” He said, reaching over to grab the thick purple rope. “You still have to go through your punishment.” 

Joker licked his lips while his eyes gazed at his fingers. “Look at the mess you’ve made,” He scolded, his face scrunching up in faux disappointment. “Be a good girl and clean this up for Daddy.” 

You quickly sat up, your small hands holding onto his wrist while your lips pressed against his pale fingers. Your tongue lapped up all the juices off of his fingers, sucking them until they’re clean. Joker pulled his digits out of your mouth, a trial of thin saliva was created. He smiled at you and he began to tie you up in thick rope. You giggled when you noticed his focus was wavering. Playfully you pressed your breast together, making the man purr with lust. 

“You like what ya see, Daddy?” You smiled, licking your lips slowly. He tugged at the lavender rope, making you groan out in pain, the rough rope harshly rubbed at your skin.

“Oh, darling. Who told you that you can tease me?” He pushed you onto the bed, your back landing on the silk sheets. His fingers quickly tied and pulled random knots together, making the rope hug tightly around your sweaty body. Soon he was please at what he did. Your arms were tied behind your back while your perky breast were roughly press down by the thick rope. 

“You’ve been a bad girl these past few weeks…” He said, his eyes not leaving you while he effortlessly pulled off his thin white dress shirt, revealing his toned tatted up abdomen. The multiple golden chains that hung around his neck shined in the fiery bedroom light. Joker looked so fucking sexy, you swore that this man was the poster child of sex and violence. 

“I could name all the shitty things you’ve done that pissed me off; or I could just show you, hm? Which one would you like?” He chuckled, his baby blue eyes now dark, and with one arm he flipped you over on your stomach. You didn’t say anything which made him aggravated. Joker pushed your face roughly into the bed, smothering you. “Answer me!” He growled, pushing your face harder into the sheets. 

“Show me! Show me!” You choked. He let you, allowing you to breath. His low, husky voice protruded a giddy chuckle, while his hand reach for the multiple sex toys. “I was hoping you were going to say that…” He mumbled. The sound heavy objects dragging against the soft bed sheet ranged in your ears. You began to twitch around when you felt the icy cold touch of the familiar paddle grazing your lower back. 

“Are you gonna spank me–” You were cut off by a sudden slap to your ass. You let out a small but shrill scream from the sharp pain, but of course Joker didn’t give a shit. 

“No talking unless I tell you to,” He mumbled. “That’s one of the things about you that just grinds my gears…You talk too much, don’t know when to shut up.” He swung the paddle against your ass again, the loud slapping sound of your flesh getting assaulted by the wooden paddle echoed throughout the large, messy room. Joker sloppily, but still aggressive and violently, spanked you. This went on and on for about twenty minutes until the older man tossed the paddle across the room, you flinched at the sound of it violently hitting the wall.

“This boring me…” He huffed out, rolling his blue eyes. “Believe me, princess, it’s fun spanking ya till your black and blue. But I wanna get to the exciting part.” The sound of his pants unzipping turned you on by the second. You wanted him inside you, right now. You rise your ass in the air, showing off your dripping wet womanhood and your now red ass. His hands rested on your hips and without saying a single word, Joker slammed into you, making you scream out in a wail that held pain and lust. 

It’s been forever since you’ve felt Joker’s member inside of you, with him going in and out of asylums, you’ve never really gotten the chance fuck him. Or get fucked by him, as you should put it. 

“Oh, gosh, darling…You’re so tight.” He moaned as he forcefully moved himself in and out of your small and wet entrance. His pale fingers tangled into your {hair color} hair, while his toned hips crashed against your backside. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed and bounced off the walls, the erotic sound made your stomach form knots while your body became hot. Joker slammed into you, making you arch your back and moan out in disbelief and raw bliss. You bucked your hips, forcing him to go deeper inside you. 

“Mmm, Daddy–harder, please…” You gulped, your eyes screwed shut, and your teeth bit at the silk sheet beneath you. You wanted to feel him, roam your hands around his toned back, but alas you couldn’t. As your hands were tied down by the thick rope, and every movement you made, made the rope aggressively rub at your skin. 

Joker slapped your thigh making you wince, and with a swift movement, he shoved his entire member inside of you. This action made your whole body shudder. You were seeing stars at this point. The green haired man sloppy thrust his hips, signaling to you that he was close. Salty sweat stuck onto your numb body while your face contoured in that of pleasure. 

The older man choked out a strangled groan, and without warning he came inside of you. The warm feeling of his seed filling up your womanhood sent you over the edge. “Mistah J! Oh, I’m cumming!” You moaned out, tears adorning your eyes. Even though he already came, he was still inside of you. Shoving his thick penis in and out of you. A familiar wave of euphoria washed out you, and with a quick jerking movement of your body, you came. 

“That’s right, darling…Good job, cumming all over Daddy’s dick like that.” He muttered, his voice an octave lower than normal. Slowly he pulled himself out of you, making some of the semen that was inside you seep out, you closed your legs, too embarrassed to show what the Joker has done to you. 

The sound of his pants zipping back up ranged through your ears. Slowly you sat up, only to wince at how sore and raw your nether regions was. You watched as Joker began to dress himself, tossing on a dress shirt while he fixed his hair, slicking it back to show off his iconic forehead tattoo. 

“A-Are you gonna untie me?” You asked, your voice meek and sore from all the screaming you did. He looked up at you, his royal blue eyes glaring at your naked body. 

“You still need to get punished,” He said, “I haven’t even used all of my toys on you, hell. I was just so eager to fuck your cute little pussy that I cut out the part where I discipline you.” He shot you a silver smile, showing off his metal grill. His smile made your insides go all fuzzy and warm. 

“Daddy has to go to an important meeting. Which means; you stay here, and think about all the naughty things you’re gonna do for me when I come back.” He ran his hand down your face making you shiver. Slowly you nodded your head, which earned you a sloppy peck on the lips. 

You can’t wait for what Daddy has in store for you.                                                                                                

Hamilton Voice Comparisons

Lin-Manuel Miranda: If a chipmunk swallowed Pop Rocks, and then put his voice through a machine that slowed it down and lowered it to human pitch.

Leslie Odom Jr.: Sitting on a purple velvet cushion and eating a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting, in a low-lit room late at night, with a clarinet playing in the background.

Anthony Ramos: That fuzzy feeling you get when you see a puppy you love bark to protect you, even though there’s nothing there; it just got scared and you want to hug it.

Daveed Diggs: That split second rush when you see somebody attractive throw on a leather jacket and adjust the collar while looking back over their shoulder at you, super nonchalantly.

Okieriete Onaodowan: A mocha cake that’s really well made, eaten with a cup of creamy coffee, in a café with white walls and a dark ceiling.

Phillipa Soo: A pale pink feather flitting down from a blue sky into a pile of lacy pillows.

Renee Elise Goldsberry: That feeling in your mouth when you chew mint gum and then drink cold water, and your cheeks feel all refreshed and clean.

Jasmine Cephas-Jones: When the sound in your headphones works after a while and fills both ears, and all of a sudden it’s this rush of clear sound.

Christopher Jackson: A giant stuffed lion whose fur is kind of rough but it has some sentimental value and you really like cuddling it because you’ve had it forever and it cheers you up.

Jonathan Groff: When you know you look really good at a party and you’re trying to show off the outfit you’re super proud of but not trying to come off as a snob.


tagged by @justcourbeau - thank you. You have no idea how much I need distractions like this today. 😘😘

5 things you will find in my bag/backpack

Ear defenders

My blue badge that entitles me to disabled parking

Emergency cereal bar



5 things you will find in my bedroom

Me. I’m in bed A LOT.

The cat. Ditto the above.

Another emergency cereal bar in case my legs decide not to work.

A purple Pygmy Puff

A cushion shaped like a 💩 for when I’m feeling 💩

5 things I’ve always wanted to do in life

Write a book.

Go to New York.

Join a kick-ass all-female rock band.

See the Northern Lights.

Be some sort of mythical, magical being.

5 things to on my to-do list

Book a smear.

Check in with my doctor.

Arrange to meet my MP to raise awareness for ME.

Find a good and gentle cranial osteopath that does home visits.

Finish crocheting a Death Star.

5 things people may not know about me

I’ve been in a music video.

The only painkiller that works for me is the green, leafy, flammable kind.

I have my belly button pierced.

I am mostly housebound with a cruel, cruel illness.

I take no prisoners.


@austenide @the-moodyfoodie @mclaura87 @millieanouk @xmanderzzx @teaspoonofginger @death-by-snape @supergran21 and everyone else I’ve ever interacted with on here. Sorry - I’m too groggy to remember all your urls.

Neko Atsume Vocabulary, Pt. 2: Shopping #21-40

21) ギフトボックス - Gift box

22) ダンボール[小] ( こ ) - Cardboard box [small]  “Shopping box (small)”*

23) ダンボール[中] ( なか ) - Cardboard box [medium] “Shopping box (large)”*

24) ダンボールドライブ - Cardboard Drive “Cardboard Truck”*

25) ハウスデラックス - House Deluxe “Cardboard House”*

26) カフェデラックス - Cafe Deluxe “Cardboard Cafe”*

27) 機関車デラックス ( きかんしゃ ) - Locomotive “Cardboard Choo Choo”*

28) お座布団[紫] ( おざぶとん[むらさき] ) - Zabuton (a flat floor cushion) [purple] “Pillow [Purple]”*

29) お座布団[黄] ( おざぶとん[き] ) - Zabuton [yellow] “Pillow [yellow]”*

30) お座布団[緑] ( おざぶとん[みどり] ) - Zabuton [green] “Pillow [green]”*

31) ちりめん座布団 ( ちりめんざぶとん ) - Silk Crepe Zabuton “Silk Crepe Pillow”*

32) さくら座布団 ( さくらざぶとん ) - Sakura Zabuton “Sakura Pillow”*

33) もみじ座布団 ( もみじざぶとん ) - Maple/autumn leaves Zabuton “Maple Pillow”*

34) しらゆき座布団 ( しらゆきざぶとん ) - White Snow Zabuton “Snowy Pillow”*

35) クッション[ベージュ] - Cushion [Beige]

36) クッション[ピンク] - Cushion [Pink]

37) クッション[ブラウン] - Cushion [Brown]

38) クッション[イエロー] - Cushion [Yellow]

39) クッション[グリーン] - Cushion [Green]

40) オレンジキューブ - Orange Cube

*I’ve included the English version’s translations to compare to my own. Please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!*

Pt.1 (#1-20)

Pt. 3 (#41-60)

Anonymous said: I wouldn’t mind some Clint/Coulson doing something cute together like… planting a little vegetable patch together <3

“You need a project,” Phil says darkly as he stands and surveys the damage. Three cookie sheets are black with charred oatmeal cookies, the counter is littered with the detritus of cookie-making, and Clint is standing there in jeans only, his bare feet and shirtless chest not even working to distract Phil from the disaster that is their kitchen. 

“You might be right,” Clint says as he brushes his hand through his hair. Flour sprinkles onto his bare shoulders.

They’ve had three days of downtime after a grueling three-month under cover mission in Greece, and this is the third house disaster Phil’s walked in on since they returned to the states. Phil sighs and puts down his briefcase, loosens his tie, and shucks off his suit coat as Clint hands him a beer from the fridge. Phil looks once more at the sink, can’t hold back a wince at the mess, and retreats out to their patio to let Clint fix the current kitchen problem. 

Thirty minutes later, Clint joins him. He sits down in the patio chair next to Phil’s and takes a long swig of his drink. Phil is looking at a home decorating magazine that he obsesses over when Clint leans over and pulls it out of his hands. 

“Hey! I was reading that,” he says, glaring at Clint.

Clint holds the magazine so he can see the back for a moment, and then he gives it back to Phil with a grin. 

For some reason, Phil gets a sinking feeling. “What?” 

“I have an idea. Wanna order Thai for dinner? I’ll do it,” he says, and springs to his feet.

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RED is
deep warmth seeping into your bones
the thick smell of roses
spices heavy on your tongue
fuzzy blankets

sticky fingers and palms
the tang of rust
sugar sweet candy
hard rubber
a pencil rolling on a desk

faint sunshine on a breezy day
wet paint
honeysuckle nectar
silky smooth petals

the first shoots in the spring
pine and mown grass
mint leaves
aloe gel on a burn
rustling leaves

the coolness of a pool in summer
ocean air
cotton candy
heavy silk sheets

overstuffed cushions
ripe plums
deep dark chocolate
velvet seats

sitting on the roof at night
freshly turned earth
pearls on a string
thunder in the distance

the first breath of clean air
dust suspended in the sun
heavy cream
smooth marble
book pages turning

—  A.R.
Rose Leslie on sex scenes, sexism, and dating Kit Harington

Rose Leslie has a phobia of velvet. This is a remarkably strange coincidence as I happen to be sitting on a small sofa, in a brightly lit corridor of her agent’s office in central London, on which the only thing other than me is a giant purple velvet cushion. Truly, I’ve never seen such a large velvet object. It is resplendent in its velvetness. It seems to have been designed specifically to taunt Rose Leslie and confront her with her fears in the most extreme manner possible - almost like aversion therapy.

No, no don’t worry!” Leslie says but I can see her actually shudder as I stroke it. “Honestly, it’s fine,” she insists politely. “It’s just the touch of it I don’t like. The sound it makes.” I put the cushion on the floor and she visibly relaxes, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in her jeans and trainers.

Luckily, the 29-year-old actress has never played a part which requires her to wear velvet robes.
Her breakthrough after graduating from LAMDA was playing Gwen, the self-improving housemaid in the first series of Downton Abbey. More recently she has been on our screens as DS Emma Lane alongside Idris Elba in Luther.

But the role for which she is most famous is Ygritte, the flame-haired wildling lover of Jon Snow in HBO’s hit series Game of Thrones. Leslie was swathed in furs and stitched-together animal pelts for much of the shoot which kept her warm as she filmed in Iceland.
It was the winter months,” she says, “so we only had from 10am to 2.30pm to film before we’d lose light. We were in the middle of a glacier. It’s a really, really stunning place and we saw the Northern Lights, which was extraordinary. I’ve never before been somewhere so vast and magic. And I’m Scottish, so I have an affinity with cold, crisp days.

When the light went, the cast would all traipse back to their hotel in the pitch black and pass the time playing card games. Did she ever wish she was cast as one of the characters who got to film in warmer climates? Daenerys, for instance, who is played by Emilia Clarke and got to waft around sunny locations in Morocco and Malta? Leslie laughs.
Have you seen my skin?” She stretches out thin, white arms. “Can you imagine what I would be like in Malta or Morocco?” But there was another reason she enjoyed filming in Iceland - namely Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow and with whom Leslie’s character had a steamy romantic union. After much speculation, the couple have now confirmed they are dating in real life.
Harington said in a recent interview: “If you’re already attracted to someone, and then they play your love interest, it becomes very easy to fall in love.”
In Game of Thrones, Ygritte’s catchphrase is “You know nothing Jon Snow”. Entire YouTube compilations exist of her saying the immortal words. Has she ever used the phrase in an argument with Harington? “God no! We don’t do that. It would be a fairly douchebag-y thing to do.” In truth, they both hate conflict and avoid it like a plague of velvet. “He’s not a confrontational person so we don’t ever blow off steam.” She smiles. She doesn’t want to say much about her relationship but she can’t help admitting that she is “very happy” and that Harington is “a great man. I’m very proud of him. There’s an understanding that comes with the job, an understanding of being busy and when you have to say ‘Sorry, I’m just going to bugger off for two months to film.’”

It’s hard not to think that at least part of Game of Thrones’s appeal lay in seeing two beautiful people fall for each other on-screen. The series has become a phenomenon: now in its sixth season and regularly attracting over two million viewers. How would Leslie explain its appeal to someone who has never seen it?

So, it is an epic medieval fantasy with superb writing and brilliant characters - 60 hours worth of stupendous drama with the highest calibre acting and directing and writing.” She also likes the fact that the series has strong female characters. “It’s refreshing, certainly: those are some formidable women… it particularly resonates with me, to play someone with backbone.”
Ygritte has a memorable sex scene in a cave featuring some stones and not much else. Is it also fun to play someone unafraid of owning her own sexuality?
Damn straight. The women in Game of Thrones know how to use their sexuality, and that’s power. Work to your strengths.

Leslie grew up in the middle of the Aberdeenshire countryside, “playing in puddles and rhododendron bushes” as she describes it. Her father, Sebastian, is the Aberdeenshire Chieftain of Clan Leslie and her mother, Candida, is the great-granddaughter of the 13th Lord Lovat. I tell Leslie that her Wikipedia entry describes her as having been born into ‘a noble family’ and she guffaws at the notion. Still, she speaks with cut-glass precision (the Northern accent in Game of Thrones is put on) and with her auburn hair, fine features and translucent skin, I can quite easily imagine her as a 1930s debutante being presented at court.

She is the third of five children and jokes that she suffered from “middle child syndrome”.
From a young age, I wanted to differentiate myself from my older siblings,” she says. “Certainly part of being from a big family is that you have to shout to make yourself heard. I remember bossing my younger siblings around and making them put on shows and skits with me.” What kind of shows? “There was a lot of Power Rangers.

When Leslie was 10, the family upped sticks and moved to France for three years because her mother wanted to expose the children to a different way of life. They lived in the town of Maisons-Laffitte, just outside Paris and Leslie became fluent in French. She loved it, although the girls at school teased her for her red hair. “They picked on me but that makes you stronger,” she says matter-of-factly. “You get teased. I’d never say it was bullying.

On her return to the UK, Leslie boarded at Millfield School in Somerset. Her parents were supportive of her dreams to act but keen for her to go to university first. In the event, Leslie says, “I didn’t get into university so I had to go to drama college!
At LAMDA, she remembers the female students being heavily outnumbered by the male contingent. She started in 2005 and “back then, they took in 30 every year and in my year, there were only nine girls. There were a lot more parts - particularly in the theatre - for men because of the reliance on classical texts [which have more male roles].”

She thinks that things are changing slowly: “Obviously it will take time. But there are a lot more interesting female parts now, like Doctor Foster [the recent BBC drama starring Suranne Jones as a doctor who discovers her husband has been having an affair] which was stupendous. I don’t feel that would have happened 15 years ago. In theatre [sexism] still stands…so often for women it’s just the wife and girlfriend, a bit weedy, and I think that’s a bit dull, personally.”
It’s true: in life and on screen, Rose Leslie is considerably more than just a girlfriend.