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“I’m A Slow Learner, It’s True. But I Learn.” - Sansa Stark

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Send 💬  for me to make you a starter with a random line of dialogue from this generator.

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a key to being a bomb rper is making room for other peoples canon / world building. like, for example. instead of saying “i am the goddess of the wind” you could opt for “i am a goddess of the wind” because it leaves room for other peoples lore and cultures. “so-and-so is the personification of the sun” vs “so-and-so is a personification of the sun” u dig???

without that compromise ur either yelling ur lore over someone else’s or silencing them completely. and when it comes to lore drawn from actual, real life folklore getting ignored or set aside… it’s not nice to be on the receiving end of it!

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She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

- A Storm of Swords, Sansa VII 

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Mary Poppins (1964) dir. Robert Stevenson

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sometimes i see all of these musing posts the wonderful cersei’s on my dash post and i’m like yes must like this for later, and then i’m reminded of just how much sansa learned from her. whether that’s necessarily good, bad, or both is for a long overdue meta post. 

i’m here attempting to write out some things that have been plotted out. give me a shout if you’re interested in plotting/writing!

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casually yeets this out onto the dash - let’s plot??

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❝  You’ve been so brave, sweetheart.❞                                                                      “Why are you here? All of you?” 

                                             ❝ We never left.❞

             18+, highly selective / exclusive, writing intensive, canon && AU Lily Evans-Potter.  

       Graphics by @nocturnedesigns

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    ——— ❝  YOU THINK I’M A FOOL?❞

    ——— ❝  NO, I THINK YOU’RE LIKE JAMES, WHO WOULD HAVE REGARDED IT AS THE HEIGHT OF DISHONOR TO MISTRUST HIS FRIENDS.❞

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Thrones Cast Appreciation: Most powerful/impressive acting moments in Game of Thrones → Sophie Turner as Sansa Stark

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@bxffysxmmers  ♡ choose one game of thrones lady 

A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

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russetwolf‌:

After all the time wandering around in the snowing wilderness, all the desperation and loneliness and guilt, Robb hadn’t thought he could feel any more weary. Yet here he was, the past days having taken a toll on him he hadn’t known he could feel anymore.

Witnessing Jon die had felt more real and more terrible than dying himself ever had. That stab to the heart worse than any Roose Bolton could have ever delivered to him. A few terrible, endless hours he had spent sitting by Jon’s side, petrified by shock and grief while the others had guarded the room. Ghost had sat next to him, big, heavy head resting in his lap in shared grief, anchoring him to the here and now.

Of everything and everyone he had lost…

Not Jon. Not him.

For all the things they had shared in the past, now they were truly more similar than ever before. Both having been beyond the brink of death. And Robb wouldn’t leave his side again for the world - so if that meant leaving the Wall again, the one place Robb had thought might be left for him, that was what he’d do.

When the horn sounded to signal new arrivals, Jon was the first out the door. A part of him would probably always be that Commander, no matter what he said about having fulfilled his oath. Robb followed more slowly, not expecting -

He hadn’t been expecting anything. Least of all her. And he could only stare, standing up on that wooden walkway as Jon and Sansa reunited with an embrace that spoke of a relief that could not be put into words. A surge of emotion rose in Robb’s chest that reminded him of when he and Jon had embraced out in the snow for the first time in years. Even more so when her eyes locked on his and he could watch the emotion play out on her face, the disbelief, shock, fearful hope.

(He knew he wasn’t the brother anymore she had left behind at Winterfell, and that he didn’t look like it either. Hair too long, beard on his cheeks and jaw, pale and tired - but so was she.)

And it seemed they both were frozen in it until Jon turned to look up at him, and Robb’s legs finally carried him down the steps.

This can’t be real. There is no way to explain it, and as Sansa tries to reconcile what she sees with what she knows, her knees start to shake beneath her. In an attempt to stop it in its tracks, she straightens her spine and pinches the inside of her palm with her nails. This isn’t a dream, this isn’t a trick. They have made it to Castle Black, but somehow the sight of what cannot be Robb has her questioning what she knows – what is real.

None of it makes sense, and questions begin to flood her mind. Where has he been? Has he been here long? What happened?

Sansa feels the start of a hysterical bubble start to build in her stomach, and her teeth grind at the effort to keep it from the surface.

He is a ghost, the cold is playing tricks on her and once she and Jon get inside she can forget all about the stranger, ghost, or whatever it is that bears such a resemblance to her older brother.

Her mouth opens, and she’s going to suggest it- suggest that they go inside, that they get away from the cold and away from all prying eyes, but Jon is turning. He is turning to face the very ghost she had just managed to tear her eyes away from, and Sansa realizes that Jon sees him too.

And he isn’t surprised by the sight- stunned by the very thought of it.

“What?” Her voice comes back to Sansa in a whisper as the man, Robb, begins to make his way towards them and her vision quickly blurs. It isn’t possible, and yet...she isn’t seeing things, and it is the only explanation. The hope is impossible to ignore now and Sansa quickly blinks back tears to clear her vision, her chin wobbling from the effort of choking back sobs.

It takes another moment for her mind to catch up with her heart, and after tilting her head to the side and blowing out a small breath of air, her feet finally move to help close the distance between them. He is here, he’s not a ghost, and Jon sees him too. A hand reaches out in hesitance, to brush against a solid frame.

Whether or not Sansa had been expecting her hand to fall through the image or not, the affirmation is enough to break the dam a little further. “Robb?”

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just a little reminder to those who are waiting for replies/starters from me - i am still very much interested and working on them! i’m just incredibly slow at the moment. 

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sansa could sew and dance and sing. she wrote poetry. she knew how to dress. she played the high harp and the bells. worse, she was beautiful.

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House Stark Meme ★ [3/5] Starks - Sansa Stark She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

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darysvoljes:

                            eyebrow   rises   at   a   sudden   change   of   the   mood .   it   feels …    LIGHTER .   it   feels   ——   for   the   first   time   in   a   long   while   ——   as   if   they’re   a    FAMILY    again .   not   two   strangers   plotting ,   not   a   council   that   he   didn’t    ASK    for ,   but …   family .   brother   and   sister ,   and   their   quirks .   even   if   he   didn’t   wish   to   think   of   himself   as   a    CHILD ,   that   certain   mindset   had   it’s   appeal .   for   one   -   it   helped   him   loosen   those   heavy   shoulders   and    (even   if   for   a   moment) ,   stop  pacing   again .   dark   gaze   falls   on   her ,   however   sparkle   of   a   laughter   long   forgotten   shines   through .   and   for   a   moment   he’s    HAPPY ,   until   that   title   escapes   her   lips .

                 ❛ lord   protector ? ❜       the   term   is   bitter   on   his   tongue .   there   was   nothing   high-born   or   remotely   lordly   about   the   man .   jon   saw   him   as    NOTHING    but   a   snake   and   he   was   not   shy   to   show   it .   now   a   laughter   ——   this   time   more    VINDICTIVE   ——   escapes   him   at   a   thought   that   he   would   be   falling   at   his   mercy .    AGAIN .

❛ he’s   no   lord ,   sansa .   and   i   don’t   want   you   anywhere   near   him . ❜       sometimes   even   he   can   hear   father   in   his   own   voice .   he   knew   that   he   would   share   jon’s   sentiment . 

                                    ❛ i’ve   seen   'ow   he   looks   at   you . ❜      bitter   words   almost   make   him   see    RED .   jon   was   not   a   hateful   man ,   but   there   was   something   about   littlefinger   that   pulled   his   most    PRIMAL    instincts   into   the   light .      ❛ and   i   will   not   ask   him   of   any   favors .   if   anything ,   i   ‘ad   to   ‘ave   him   locked   up   the   moment   he   set   his   foot   in   winterfell . ❜

It’s bittersweet, Sansa thinks to herself, to see him smile like that. Her goal has been accomplished, yet it’s been so long since there’s been happiness within the walls of their home. Under Bolton control everything had been different- terrifying and rage inducing. This is what they were fighting for, but as much as it reminds her of what they’ve gained – it also reminds Sansa of what they’ve lost. It’s not the first time, nor the last she’s sure, that Sansa finds herself momentarily lost in actions she wishes they could take back, or re-do.

And as quickly as the lightened moment has come, it is gone and Sansa fights to not roll her eyes towards her brother. “It’s his proper title,” she points out unnecessarily, no matter how it had come to be. She has her own thoughts about Baelish, but they remain unspoken. Not because she doesn’t trust Jon, it had been wrong not to share what she had known before but this is different. Sansa needs more time, she needs to sort through those thoughts. She’s not quite there.

Not yet.

“I can handle Littlefinger,” she voices dryly. As King, Jon has more important things to worry about, and at least on this battlefield she can prove to be helpful to him.

This time Sansa rolls her eyes, unable to help herself. It’s paired with a smile, not at what Jon is insinuating, but the comfort he brings so easily, naturally. It’s not just Winterfell that makes them stronger. Their father had been right - her brother is some of her strength too. “I know what he wants.”

It is something she has no intention of giving him.

“He is the Lord Protector, whether we like it or not, and the Vale is our ally.” With Cersei Lannister already calling, allies are something they can’t afford to be in short supply of. They may not yet be in the position to lock Littlefinger up – if such a cage would be capable of holding someone of his skill set – but Sansa easily yields on another point, and agrees. “So, we won’t ask any favors. But since you’re insistent on this meeting,” and it’s clear this is a battle well lost despite her repeated prodding, “if I can help you secure your best odds- I will.”

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L E S S   G R I E V O U S   T H A N   T H E   O T H E R S

                                  if   i   don’t   take   my   own   word   seriously                                          what   sort   of   lord   of   winterfell   will   i   be?

                                                                                             ——— indie        Jon Snow