forests of beyond

Sansa and her “Stark connection”

Since the fandom is always saying how Sansa is not a Real Stark ™    I wanted to  make a post in which I explain why Sansa, born in the Winter (unlike Arya or Bran or Rickon born in the long Summer), in Winterfell (unlike Jon or Robb born in the south) will always be a Stark ( no Lannister or Baelish or whatever…), no matter who she is forced to marry (to survive I might add..). 

 In AGOT Sansa (before her father died, and when she was meant to marry joffrey) is already very proud of her Stark origins. 

Alyn carried the Stark banner. When she saw him rein in beside Lord Beric to exchange words, it made Sansa feel ever so proud.

While prefering The Seven (like her mother) she does admire the poetry of the old gods. 

Besides, even if she could leave the castle, where would she go? It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella’s garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. Sometimes she prayed in the godswood as well, since the Starks kept the old gods.

By the time she reached the godswood, the noises had faded to a faint rattle of steel and a distant shouting. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood; even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

While she is called little bird, or little dove (when people want to undermine her), she is called wolf  too.

Tyrion found himself thinking of his wife. Not Sansa; his first wife, Tysha. The whore wife, not the wolf wife.

“Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa,” said Pycelle.

The queen bristled. “I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf.” She refused to say the girl’s name.

And Sansa herself when she is in put  a hard position takes courage in her Stark origins. Its something that gives her  strength:

Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?

“Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.

"Winterfell?” Robert was small for eight, a stick of a boy with splotchy skin and eyes that were always runny. Under one arm he clutched the threadbare cloth doll he carried everywhere.

Winterfell is the seat of House Stark,” Sansa told her husband-to-be. “The great castle of the north.”

“Do you require guarding?” Marillion said lightly. “I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. ‘The Roadside Rose,’ I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her.

I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him. Instead she nodded, and let him escort her down the tower steps and along a bridge. 

 Petyr put his arm around her. “What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?” He smiled. “I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I’d ever let him harm my daughter?

"I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell.

"As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.”She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

I will tell my aunt that I don’t want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn’t a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

.His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa’s memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me?

From the high battlements of the gatehouse, the whole world spread out below them. Sansa could see the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s hill, where her father had died. At the other end of the Street of the Sisters stood the fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit. To the west, the swollen red sun was half-hidden behind the Gate of the Gods. The salt sea was at her back, and to the south was the fish market and the docks and the swirling torrent of the Blackwater Rush. And to the north …She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

but personally my favorite line about Sansa being always a Stark and belonging North in Winterfell  (Never a Lannister! , no matter who she marries) is this quote by Ned: 

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”

“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.

Sansa whole story (to me) is about her journey retaking her Stark origins which were stolen from her in the worst of way, just like they killed her wolf Lady. But just like Lady remains, Sansa place is and always will be in the north, as a Stark of Winterfell. 


In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Elizabeth Taylor does an exaggerated impression of Bette Davis saying a line from Beyond the Forest (1949): “What a dump!” In an interview with Barbara Walters, Bette Davis said that in the film, she really did not deliver the line in such an exaggerated manner. She said it in a more subtle, low-key manner, but it has passed into legend that she said it the way Elizabeth Taylor’s delivered it in this film. During the Barbara Walters interview, the clip of Bette Davis delivering the line from Beyond the Forest (1949) was shown to prove that Davis was correct. However, since people expected Bette Davis to deliver the line the way Elizabeth Taylor had, she always opened her in-person, one woman show by saying the line in a campy, exaggerated manner: “WHAT … A… DUMP!!!”. It always brought down the house. “I imitated the imitators”, Davis said.

Prompts: Running with the wolves- Aurora and the picture (X)

Jolene hates space. Hates each star that she can see from her bedroom window, hates the continuous revolution of the moons, the planets, all of it.

She especially hates them.

Tonight’s another festival, another party they can’t afford, and they aren’t even bothering to show up on time for their tithe. Jolene slinks through the shadows around the fire and barbeque and benches and glares at the space station hanging over them all.

Soon, she knows, a part will detach. It will be golden and it will sing as it enters the atmosphere. It will land just next to the oak tree, the oak tree that stopped throwing out leaves every year because of them. They will come out one by one with stars in their skin and strange eyes, wearing strange clothes that look like water and carefully not showing the fangs they hide in their mouth. Their leader will talk with the Mayor of their town, Jolene’s mother, and they will pretend to rehash the old agreement as if it hasn’t already been sworn in blood.

And then they will take away another one of Jolene’s friends and she will never see them again.

Jolene scowls up at the station, so much smaller than the first moon of the night. She hates them and she hates space and she hates her mother.

But maybe she hates herself the most.

She’s never been able to stop them.


She’s twelve the first time she realizes the people aren’t moving away. That’s what her mother tells her: the people move away. They want to. They are happy to.

She’s twelve when she sneaks into the Harvest Festival, excited to be doing something she shouldn’t for another four years.

She’s twelve when she sees the Star People come down from their ship. She watches from the shadows as their eyes scan (do they scan? They seem to have only irises and no pupils) the citizens. She watches her mother greet them warmly and be warmly greeted in return.

Then she watches the tall blue one, the one whose eyes seemed to skip over Jolene’s hiding place much too slowly, turn on Elaine Huxtable.

Elaine Huxtable shakes her head. Stumbles back. And tries to run.

Elaine is seventeen when Jolene is twelve, a willowy girl with the sun in her hair. She’s the fastest runner in her school and the youngest of her siblings.

Which is why Jolene doesn’t understand why no one is helping her.

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Acquainted with the Night (1/16)

Summary: In a bid for the power born of true love, King Arthur binds Emma to the broken blade Excalibur.  Unbeknownst to him, Killian Jones is bound to the other half, having given himself over to the darkness in order to exact his revenge on Rumpelstiltskin.  He frees Emma from King Arthur’s control, sparking the beginnings of war between Camelot and Misthaven, and a quest to rid her of the darkness.  (No Curse AU)

Rated: M

Warnings: Blood, violence

Words: ~800

Chapter: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Epilogue

Notes: This story began with a simple idea: what if I wrote an EF AU where both Emma and Killian were Dark Ones?  And now, about a year later, here it is!  It is completely finished, and will be updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays.  Endless love, devotion, and gratitude to @ripplestitchskein, without whom this story would never have happened, and thanks to @unfolded73 for reading this through, and giving me invaluable pointers.  Credit to @seethelovelyintheworld for the gorgeous banner.  Title borrowed from the titular poem by Robert Frost.

Tagging by request: @natascha-remi-ronin, @the-captains-ayebrows, @maryvmassakre, @captainswanismyendgame, @katealexandra26

Also on ff and ao3


There was little that compared, Emma decided, to the weight of a blade in one’s hands.  When it was well-forged, the hilt balanced neatly between her thumbs and forefingers, the others joining just behind to caress the gilded handle.  The filigree pressed arcane indents into the palms of her hands, swooping letters that spelled her own name, and another’s.  The blade itself was swiveled, leaping in smooth currents down towards the deadly taper, tipped up and out, the way her father had taught her.

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anonymous asked:

Ugh i just keep imagining season 7 Dean losing Cas. And not just losing Cas; but also everything they could've been. All the unspoken things between them that they'll never say now, dragged down into that lake with Cas. Dean bitterly knowing he'll never have whatever it is they had with anyone else again and oh god, when he's not feeling pain about it there's just this void and he doesn't know which is worse so he drinks to quiet them both. Bet he never imagined he'd hear "i love you" from Cas.

You… you know I’m watching 12.12 right now, right? That I just watched the “I love you” like 9 times, and I was already in a seriously compromised state.

(s7 is just about the piniest bs you can possibly imagine short of the second half of s11 and holy crackers i have now lost the ability to can and am just sitting here staring at the wall whyyyyyyyyyy)

On Tauriel and Her Purpose in the Narrative (And Why She isn’t a Mary-Sue)

(as a preface, I should note that this meta is entirely based on the movies— especially since those are what Tauriel is exclusive to them.)

So. We’ve all seen those “Tauriel only ditched her kingdom because of a dwarf” posts, which end more often than not with someone pulling shit out of their ass and passing it off like it’s canonical. 

Tauriel’s existence in the Hobbit trilogy was not for sake of romance. It was never for the sake of romance. Tauriel’s existence was for the sake of rebellion. The whole “Tauriel only left because she thought Kili was hot” train of thought is flawed because it ultimately shows a failure to comprehend the narrative, and thus, the character.

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If you fly into Haines, Alaska, you’ll be on a prop plane so small that your pilot will call the roll.

“Melissa.” Yup. “Mary.” Yes. “Joseph?” Right here.

Just 2,500 people live in Haines — a small town in southeast Alaska surrounded by water. The scenery is incredible, with snowy mountains and lush green forest beyond. The city center is just a few blocks, with several bars, a few restaurants and a beautiful, award-winning library.

But lately, this idyllic place has been roiled by a bitter political battle. A group of residents wants to recall more than half the members of the local government, the borough assembly.

To better understand this community, and to find out what all the fuss is about, we gathered a small group to talk about their lives. On a weekday evening, they gathered in a circle at the community center. Among those who came: a motel owner, a fisherman … and one of the targets of that ongoing recall effort.

What It’s Like To Live In A Small, Rural, Politically Divided Town

Photos: Elissa Nadworny/NPR