What a great answer! Jaime is one of the most complex characters in asoiaf. Now, a little more difficult question. Which character do you prefer and why? Sansa or Arya? Let me clarify. This is in no way a "Sansa vs Arya" question. I love them both but we all have our preferences and i would like to know yours
Hah, yeah, setting things up as ‘Sansa v. Arya’ is always risky, though I get that’s not what you’re doing. Let’s just say that Arya is a precious murderchild and a cool deconstruction of both revenge plots and the classic ‘rebellious lady dresses as a boy’ trope, but that neither of those things grab my interest too strongly for purely personal reasons.
So, yeah. Definitely Sansa. Not because she’s ‘better’ than Arya in any way, just because her narrative speaks to me really powerfully in ways that very few character arcs tend to do. I’ve also said a bit about why I see Sansa as one of the most genuinely idealistic characters in the series, in a positive sense, here.
Another reason I love her character is that I personally think Sansa is currently one of the most feminist characters out there. Again, not because she’s somehow ‘superior’ to other female characters or more ‘deserving’ of good things, but because she is a fully fleshed portrait of a deeply feminine character who slowly acquires agency and power in deeply feminine ways - despite the constant constraints of a massively misogynistic society dogging her every step of her journey. Sansa doesn’t learn to play by the rules of the ‘men’s game’ or gain her independence by taking on a ‘man’s role’ in the world. She learns how to play by the rules of the women’s game, and she becomes more independent the more she comes to understand and master what society has deemed to be a ‘woman’s role.’
Sansa is also, I think, the character in this series with the most formative female relationships in her life. For good or for bad, Sansa has been shaped by her experiences with her mother and her sister, with Cersei and Margaery, and with the female friendships she makes as Alayne in the books and with Brienne and Shae in the show. Women matter to Sansa, not just as an ideal but as a reality, and she relies on them and reacts to them and learns from them throughout the series.
under the read more is a masterlist of character tropes taken from the tv tropes website, to make it easier for those of you who’d like fresh character ideas but have absolutely no idea where from. have fun spending hours and hours trapped on the site.
okay, a lot of you seemed to like the story of my grandma traumatizing a car dealer, and some of you have asked just how my grandma ended up like the woman she is, so, after a little prompting, i hereby present, my great-grandmother;
so you all know that my grandma was born in finland
but we’re actually swedish descendants on my great-grandmother’s side of the family
so okay, this all requires some basic finnish history to fully grasp the context of my great-grandmother’s story
finland didn’t become an independent country until 1917, after having been conquered by russia in the 19th century
but before that, finland had been a part of the swedish kingdom, with a very sketchy history leading all the way back to the conception of the swedish kingdom sometimes in the like 13th century
and the life and times of swedish finland is a messy and complex story that i won’t get that much into, but what you need to know is that it was swedish finland, that sweden was the central and, in some ways, colonizing power, and that the true finns were looked down upon and often lower class, while the nobility and upper class were made out of finland-swedes
and this didn’t change until well into the 20th century, especially in the predominantly swedish-speaking regions
and you can probably guess where my ancestors fit into all of this, can’t you?
and my great-grandmother’s story starts with my great-great-grandfather
he was a finland-swede in a swedish-speaking town, and he was also one of the richest men in it
and he had a heap of children, like i’m uncertain of just how many, but i think it was around, like 17 or something??
my great-grandmother, of course, because otherwise this wouldn’t be much of a story, was the black sheep of the entire family
she was just
a very rebellious lady in general
born sometimes in the 1910′s, she just didn’t give much of a fuck about anything
she was the finnish version of a flapper, drank and partied away all of her allowance and just generally drove my great-great-grandfather crazy by the way she dragged their precious family name in the dirt by the reputation she made for herself around town
(she’s honestly such #goals, i’ve always looked up to my great-grandmother)
but the last straw was when she met my biological great-grandfather
because he was a true finn, did not have a drop of swedish blood as far as anyone could tell, and of course my great-grandmother, because she was my great-grandmother, fell head over heels in love
now, in true bigoted fashion, this was of course unacceptable to my great-great-grandfather and his entire family, and he presented my great-grandmother with an ultimatum;
to either cut all ties with my great-grandfather and start cleaning up her act, or be disinherited from the family
now, of course, because you already know that my great-grandfather would eventually become my great-grandfather, you know what my great-grandmother did
she followed her heart, said “fuck you” to my great-great-grandfather and his fortune and, quite honestly, never looked back
she settled down with my great-grandfather and started a family with him, and was, as far as we can tell, pretty happy with her life
that was, until things started going to hell
my great-grandmother bore a lot of kids, and gave birth to 11 in total
but they were all born in the 1930-40′s, also known as the depression and the second world war
most notable of them was, of course, my grandma, one of her older brothers, and a couple of twins
you all know my grandma, my very own gunpowder lady, born in the aftermath of the winter war and wrought with an iron strength because of it
one of her brothers was born a few years earlier, and was always quite sickly, and was an adolescent during the height of the war
and because of that he became a so-called “war child”
he was sent over to sweden, in a small dinghy boat across the bothnian sea, to be looked after by a swedish foster family while my great-grandmother and her family continued to scrape by in the war-torn finland
and as the war finally ended and he had the chance of coming back home again, he didn’t want to
he had grown fond of his foster parents and had had a better living situation in sweden than he had ever had in finland
so he was actually the third child that my great-grandmother lost
because a couple of years after my grandma was born, my great-grandmother gave birth to a couple of twins
this was at the very tail ends of the world war, their sickly older brother had already been sent away, and the family wasn’t doing that great
my grandma said that my great-grandmother and great-grandfather never quite succeed in getting them fully healthy after their delivery, and they both died just a few months old
and during these years, there had been a lot of strain on my biological great-grandfather and great-grandmother’s marriage and they had eventually fallen out of love, and as finland slowly started prospering again after the war, my great-grandmother decided that enough was enough
and if my great-great-grandfather hadn’t disowned my great-grandmother when she had decided to marry a finn, he definitely would have done it when she decided to divorce him
this was in the late 1940′s, and while divorce was slowly starting to become more and more socially accepted, it was still something to look down upon, and it was especially not looked at with keen eyes in the upper class, from which my great-grandmother originated
but my great-grandmother, because she was my great-grandmother, said “fuck it” and just went for it
so that’s how she ended up a divorced mother of 8 with no income
(my biological great-grandfather didn’t really want anything to do with the children anymore, but he wasn’t completely unreasonable and had at least left her the house)
but great-grandmother did what she had always done; she persevered
she got a job at the local bakery and had her elder children starting to pick up stray jobs around town and had her younger ones, my grandma included, looking after the house and each other
and they, as far as grandma remembers, were quite happy, despite everything
my great-grandmother had of course fallen a very long way from grace, being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in town to just barely scraping by trying to feed and raise all of her children on a measly bakery salary
(and they were quite poor; remember how i said that my grandma always walks around barefoot? well, that’s because she never got used to wearing socks as a child, she always walked around barefoot in her shoes, even in the height of the finnish winters, and she just feels like her feet are too constricted trying to wear socks now)
but my great-grandmother and her children got by, she worked at the bakery and my grandma and all of her siblings attended the school just downhill, and what they lacked in money they got back in tenfolds in great-grandmother’s dedication to them
and eventually my great-grandmother met who we all refer to as my real great-grandfather, the man who married my black sheep and social outcast great-grandmother and helped raise all her children and acted as the real grandfather to her grandchildren, and great-grandfather to her great-grandchildren
(he was also a true finn, because my great-grandmother was incapable of actually giving a fuck, and my grandma actually never met her grandfather or his family, because when my great-great-grandfather decided to disinherit my great-grandmother, he meant all the nine yards)
my great-grandmother eventually retired from the bakery and became a housewife again, and dedicated her time to help taking care of her rapidly growing family
and i was still quite small when she passed away, but one of my most vivid memories of her was her sitting back in a rocking chair in the corner of her living room, with permed grey hair and soft wrinkles, which was mostly laughter lines anyway
so this is the woman who raised the girl who would eventually become the widow who would traumatize a poor car dealer when she wanted to buy a pretty hella expensive new car simply because she didn’t like the color of her old one
Tala Waialiki, as a rebellious and enthusiastic young lady, was the partner of the Chief of Motunui and ever since she was a young child was always more drawn to the ocean than anyone else on her island. She and the Chief discovered a cave of canoes, and upon playing the drums they were given the knowledge of their ancestors. Tala discovered that their world was dying and that she was chosen by the ocean to seek out Maui and restore the Heart of Te Fiti.
Despite her husband insisting that it was too dangerous for her to leave the island, Tala took a canoe in the dead of night and sailed away to find Maui at the bottom of his hook, just as her ancestors had instructed. Already days out at sea, she found herself lost. She had a vague idea of how to be a wayfinder by what she had seen of her ancestors in her vision of them, but had never been properly taught. As luck would have it, a school of manta rays were migrating along the current she needed to guide her in the right path of the hook.
Finally, Tala had found Maui’s island. She could see it just over the horizon in the distance. A small, bare, rocky island but she was sure that was where the ocean wanted her to go. It was that day that Tala found herself feeling off. Though she was certain she was not ill or seasick, Tala had vomited over the side of her canoe. Something was not right. As if by instinct, her hand went to her stomach and she paused. She could feel it deep in her heart. She was carrying a child.
She realized she could not continue on if this was to be, and she stood to face the ocean. Taking the Heart of Te Fiti from her necklace, Tala held it out in the palm of her hand for the ocean to take. She would mourn this journey’s end, but celebrate the beginning of a new one.
A/N: It’s the first time I ever wrote one of these, so please be gentle. I already got more in mind, but I thought it might be the best to check out if someone is interested in this. I also ask you to be gentle if there are some mistakes - English isn’t my mother tounge. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy reading. If you’re interested in a second part, feel free to use my ask.
(Y/N) is Scotts younger sister, who moved away a year ago and now returns back to Beacon Hills.
word count: 448
Come to think about it, I never thought
anything would change about my relationship with Stiles. We’ve known
one another for years. He’s grown a lot into the role of my older
brother despite the fact he’s been my real brothers best friend for a
bunch of years now. Most time I spend with both of them. It’s always
been Scott, Stiles and (Y/N), ever since I remember.
But as most things in life - nothing
It’s been a year since I last saw them.
Other than my elder brother, in the age of 15 I went through my
rebellious phase, which ended in me moving to our father. Leaving
Beacon Hills behind was both – a relief such as hell. I missed
them. I missed my mother. I missed my brother and I missed Stiles.
While trying to move on, the little girl, always known as Scott
McCalls younger sister, turned into an even more rebellious young
lady, giving my father one troubled call from my new school after
another. Though this time I just wanted to find a way back home and
one year after I’m finally back.
No one except our mother knew about the
big news. Everything was ready for the big surprise. So the day we
moved back to Beacon Hills I almost went nuts, overly excited.
Trying not to be seen by any of them, I
was ready for my first day back at school. The new and better version
of (Y/N) was ready to make big deals. I could even bet it was hard to
recognize the girl I’ve been a year ago, though not only my behaviour
but also my looks changed a lot.
Waiting right in front of deans office,
voices came to my ear, so familiar I could never forget them.
Excitement grew as I stood there and took a deep breath, unsure what
would happen if they see me. Would they recognize me? How would they
react? My mind raced while I tried to keep my body calm. My eyes went
along the hallway and just minutes later I finally saw them again. My
heart skipped a beat as our eyes met. Pretty obvious I haven’t been
the only one going through some changes. Especially my brother seemed
way more confident than the last time I saw him though he wasn’t the
one making my heart race.
Surprise was big as they darted a
glance at one another, before staring back at me. “(Y/N)?” My
name came over their mouths at once, making me giggle. I gave them a
gentle smile, just before I finally could head into the deans office,
signing in for school.
Imagine almost getting into a serious accident due to a strange group of dwarven cosplayers running into the street, only to find out that when you get out of your car to yell at them that they’re actually Thorin Oakenshield and Company
A/N: Warning for profanity and cliche ending. Song is King and Lionheart: Of Monsters and Men.
”Howling ghosts they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear,“ you sing loudly along with your iPod as it plays at an inadvisably loud volume in your car. The windows are cracked, letting in some of the cool fall air and letting out some of your noise pollution. The man in the cadillac next to you shoots you a stern glare, and you grin widely, beating the tempo on your steering wheel. “But you’re a king and I’M A LIONHEART,” you continue as the light changes to green. You hit the gas, eager to get home and not worried about facing the cops in this part of town. A few minutes and you’d be home in time to settle in with a microwaved dinner and watch the Order of Pheonix as it played in the ABC channel’s Harry Potter marathon.
You know it’s also messed up that Quentin is such a big character in Arrow like Dinah’s dad was a cop sure but he died when she was younger and so her mom raised her along with the JSA. We literally barely see her mom and they completely strip Dinah Drake of her status as a hero and her entire relationship with her kid is superimposed onto Quentin and Laurel rather halfheartedly.
Like not only did Arrow yet again completely fuck over a rather important female character but like we don’t need another dadcop to add to the already large pool of dadcops both in comics and in general. How much more awesome would Arrow have been if instead there was confilct between Dinah Drake and the Hood/Arrow with her being a retired vigilante and him just going around killing people to save the city. Hell they could even make her a cop as well like she hung up her cape but finally got to be a cop like she always wanted. We get to see Laurel and Dinah’s chaotic relationship and Laurel being rebellious plus kick ass ladies handing Oliver his ass on a plate
He loves Simon and Garfunkel, his favourite song is The 59th Street Bridge Song, being the stoner little chilled hippy boy he is, Feelin Groovy really suits him. Remus could put up with a lot of teasing from the Marauders over his music tastes, but he would always snap when they started creating their own rude parodies of the song. “Feelin’ Boobies”, “Smokin’ Doobies” and “Feelin’ Moony” being their favourite invented lyrics.
A guilty pleasure of his was Tom Jones, deriving from his mother’s obsession with the Welsh singer, reminding everyone present that he was Welsh everytime he was mentioned. He and James do a drunkenly amazing Delilah on karaoke.
When Remus wakes up either grumpy or hung over, it isn’t long before his fellow Marauders start whispering the lyrics of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song “Bad Moon(y) Rising” before ducking as the sleepy, irritated boy throws all the books on his bedside table in their general direction.
Though Remus was always seen as the ‘good’ Marauder, this wasn’t quite the case. The others would have wild ideas about pranks in the middle of the night, but he was the brains behind the operation, he gave everyone tasks and positions for their midnight activities and organised the majority of their most notorious pranks. He plotted and coordinated the Marauders Map so that the four pranksters could navigate the corridors in the pitch black and lessen chances of being caught and receiving detentions. Though the artwork was done by Sirius, the plain parchment disguise was Peter’s bright idea and the insulting any who attempt to view their map without the incantation was James’s contribution.
Remus was particularly excited for his 19th birthday, a costume party, after much deliberation with his friends, the four of them settled on the Village People, despite much grumbling. “There’s not even 6 of us…” “Noone’s going to get it.” “We’re just going to look like a bunch of camp idiots…” Remus would frown and respond with “We are camp idiots” And they would all shrug and agree. If you’re wondering, Remus was the cowboy, Sirius the biker, James the policeman and Peter the soldier.
The other three boys had a competition at Christmas to see who could get him the most hideous piece of knitwear, with Remus’s worst, most appalled reaction being the judge. Much to their dismay, he gratefully accepted their gifts and claimed to love them all, wearing all of them frequently and unashamedly in public without ever finding out that they were all meant to be joke presents. James, Sirius and Peter were baffled that he didn’t figure it out and quite frankly embarrassed to be seen with him in public sporting one of their jumpers.
Remus goes through an obscene amount of slippers. More often than not, he forgets that they are, in fact, just for indoor wear and has looked down on the tube to be greeted by his favourite fluffy purple slipper boots more times than he cares to admit. He’s hilariously infamous around London for his literally physical attachment to his slippers.
His worst full moon was in the holidays between first and second year, despite all of the healing spells and potions best efforts, he was left with a scar spanning the length of his face as well as a few more minor scars. On the train back to school, it was evident that the boy was wearing a lot of terribly applied makeup stolen from his mothers bag. With a motherly sigh, a roll of her eyes and a mutter of “Honestly boys are idiots…” Lily Evans took him into a carriage and asked no questions as she wiped his patchwork-like face clean and reapplied her own makeup more skillfully, teaching him all of the best tips to hide “blemishes” as she described them. After she was finished, you could hardly tell there was any marks on him at all and she never pried into what exactly had happened to him over the Summer.
He never considered himself to be at all appealing to girls, leaving the not so difficult task of making girls swoon to James and Sirius. Remus never seemed to notice his own effect on girls around him, who seemed to fall for him just because he didn’t seem interested, preferring to sit curled up in a corner with a silly grin on his face as he read book after book. James had always attracted the popular girls, Sirius seemed to be a magnet for the hardcore rebellious young ladies and unbeknownst to him, Remus had an incredibly strange effect on the shy, quiet witches who he had always grinned goofily at and waved to in the corridors.
Around a month after Harry’s first birthday, James and Lily left Harry with Sirius and Remus for a well deserved night off. When messing around and playing, Harry hit a compact mirror and it shattered. The pair looked slowly at eachother and both instantly spoke in creeped out unison “Very Superstitious…” And from that day on, he was dubbed Harry Wonder.
I roll over in my sleeping bag, allowing the nocturnal noises of the night to melt into the background while I drift off to sleep. My subconscious making its nightly appearance, all “he’s” saved up during the day just waiting to light matches in my brain. Most nights “he” causes a frenzy of odd thoughts, dreams, and emotions while I sleep. Tonight, unfortunately, is no different.
While my eyes rest closed, my ears come to hear the abrupt huffing of The Doctor, rapidly pacing back and forth, his shoes clunking against the metal floors at what feels like a hundred miles an hour.
Do I ask him to quiet down? I think to myself. After all, he essentially spoiled the rest of my evening, learning to be silent is the least he can do, after his little uproar in Asgard.
Instead, I roll over, trying hard not to sigh as the consistent clunking relentlessly rolls on.