“my babies” i whisper to 13 rowdy dwarves, a flustered hobbit, and a wizard
Why Sansa? Maybe it’s because she’s so caged up that writers want to free her, whether to rule, to explore, or to marry someone of her own choosing. Her story is still one of potential, and fic writers find endless ways to explore that, and to play with the clichés that a younger Sansa took for granted. She’s the closest thing Westeros has to an innocent, so putting her in the foreground is a swift and logical subversion of Martin’s world, where no one could possibly become a ruler without killing at least a few hundred people first.
It’s also easier to be a fan of Sansa quietly, without having to explain repeatedly that she isn’t just a stupid little girl who betrayed her sister because she wanted to wear pretty dresses and live like one of her beloved stories. There’s no shame in loving feisty, self-sufficient Arya. To identify with Sansa is to admit that you were once young and oblivious, that you don’t disdain traditionally feminine things. To write really good fic in which Sansa grows up, gets smart and beats Westeros’ conniving families at their own game? That’s not just satisfying; it’s potentially downright empowering.” —Molly Templeton (via nabokovsshadows)
It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.
But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.
And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.” —
Your third eye acts as a way to see into the non-physical reality that we are apart of and co-exist alongside of. Humans are points of consciousness, manifested into physical dimensions. All that we do, feel, think, dream of, envision, act on, etc. have ripples of energy attached. It’s up to you, how you use this knowledge. Om