#sorry I just want a nice romance for Sansa with someone who is close in age and wasn’t raised as a sibling

[daenerysstormreborn]

I was scrolling through someone’s blog and saw that she’d made a post shitting on people shipping Podrick and Sansa and insinuating that people only do it to spite other shippers and because they don’t ship her with Jon????? Bestie please this is such a niche ship why are you going out of your way to attack it? And sure I do not ship her with Jon but many of the people who reblogged my Podsa post DO like bffr does anyone actually ship something out of spite?

[megsironthrone]

Ballerina

Based on this request:  Could you write a Modern AU where Sandor is dragged to a ballet by his employer Joffrey and his fiance Sansa and Sandor is not excited for it at all but ends up being mesmerized by the ballerina. Next day, he runs into her at a bar or something? Thanks so much!

Here you are! *Characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: Modern AU, my limited knowledge of the ballet, Fluff(platonic with the potential to turn into romance?)

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x fem!ballerina reader, brief mentions of Joffrey and Sansa. 

There were times when Sandor really hated his job. Now was one of those times. Joffrey had insisted on taking Sansa to the ballet for her birthday. While the young boy himself hated the ballet, his fiance loved it and he was trying to keep her happy for the moment. Unfortunately, that meant Sandor had to tag along.

         While the man could appreciate the physicality it took to dance ballet, he didn’t like going. The music hurt his head after a while and he always felt out of place. Why would a monster like him be around all the beautiful people that attended and danced in the ballet? Still, he had no choice and he knew it. He had no idea that this time would be different.

         Sandor let his eyes travel to the stage and his gaze caught your movements. You came out with the rest of the ensemble, a smile on your face as you leapt and twirled and danced with more grace than even the star ballerina. She could have done every move perfectly and Sandor still wouldn’t have noticed. There was something about the way you moved and smiled. There was a joy from inside you that was practically bursting forth for the entire theater to see. If anyone had asked him who he thought the star of the show was, he would have said you.

         You were positively mesmerizing. Sandor could not pry his eyes off you, despite the fact that he was technically working. For the first time, he was grateful to have such wealthy employers. He was able to see you up close. You had a beautiful face to match the exuberance that radiated from you. It was clear that dance was your passion and nothing was going to stop you.

         What normally would have felt like hours passed in no time at all for Sandor as he watched you. Before he knew it, the ballet was over and everyone was leaving. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he could go home. Joffrey had managed to secure passes so Sansa could meet the prima ballerina. That meant Sandor had to tag along back stage and keep an eye on the little brat.

         Backstage, Sandor froze. You were there, right in front of him. You had nearly run into him in your hurry. “Oh, excuse me!” you cried with a smile. Sandor didn’t have a chance to respond before someone called, “Y/N! Come on!” You smiled at him again as you skirted passed. “I hope you enjoyed the show!” you called back to him as you were dragged away, presumably to change out of your costume.

*short time skip*

         Sandor breathed a sigh of relief as he left work that evening. He had the next day off so he decided to go to the pub. He had been feeling strange since the night before when he came face-to-face with you, the ballerina who had had him on the edge of his seat. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head which was odd for him.   Considering the fact that he would probably never see you again, that is. You obviously ran in different circles.

         As it happened, Sandor was wrong. He would most definitely see you again. In fact, the moment he stepped into the pub, his gaze instantly fell on you. You were seated at the bar, nursing a drink with a soft smile on your face. People kept coming up to you, speaking for a minute, and then leaving. Sandor thought about turning around and leaving, but then you turned your eyes to him and he stopped. Why was he running? He hadn’t done anything wrong. So he wandered over to the bar and ordered a drink.

         You were still looking at him curiously. “You were at the show last night,” you finally stated and Sandor nodded. You smiled. “I thought I recognized you. You came in with that spoiled rich kid and the girl. She’s sweet. Him, not so much.” Then, you looked embarrassed. “Sorry! I speak before I think sometimes.” Sandor let out a laugh.

         "Don’t apologize. You’re right. He’s a spoiled prick. The girl’s alright, but deserves better.“ You hummed before taking another sip of your drink. Sandor gestured to the beverage. "Thought you dancers didn’t drink?” You chuckled and shrugged. “Not typically, but we’ve just finished our show and have a few days before we start practicing for the next. Besides, that was my very last show. I’m celebrating the start of something new.”

         "Last show? Why would you quit? You’re good,“ Sandor said, his voice getting softer. He wasn’t used to paying compliments or people accepting them from him. You rolled your eyes a little, albeit playfully. "Thank you. But I’m not quitting dancing. Not really. It’s just…I have an opportunity to do something better. I saved up enough money to buy my own studio space where I can teach kids who want to dance but can’t afford the fees most dance schools demand. I want to share my love of dance with them.”

         Sandor couldn’t reply for a moment. He’d met few selfless people in his life, but here you were, deep in your own career, giving up your dream to help others find theirs. “You’re something else,” Sandor muttered, but you heard him anyway. “I will take that as a compliment…Person whose name I still don’t know,” you said with a slight giggle.

         "Sandor,“ he told you. You stuck your hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Sandor. I’m Y/N, although I’m pretty sure you knew that already seeing as my friend decided to scream it across the theater last night.” You rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand. You were utterly adorable and dorky and Sandor had no clue how to handle it. He felt himself growing uncomfortable suddenly, something you seemed to notice.

         "Hey, did I do or say something? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.“ He shook his head. It wasn’t you. It was the entire situation. "Good, because you seem like a nice guy and I’d like to get to know you. I could use a few more honest friends.” Sandor’s brows furrowed. You thought the two of you might become friends. That wasn’t something Sandor heard.

         "You sure? You wanna be friends with the likes of me?“ You arched an eyebrow. "And what’s wrong with you?” Sandor found it funny that you sounded so defensive over him. “Look at me, woman. ’M not exactly the type of company you keep.” You shrugged. “Your point? I think you seem pretty down to earth. Those are the kinds of people I like to be friends with. As for you scars, who freakin’ cares?! They’re just scars, okay?”

         Sandor wasn’t sure how to answer, so he simply nodded again, making you smile. “Good. Now how about I buy you another drink and we can talk some more? The rest of the company is having a good time in their own way and I’d like to have a good time with my new friend.” At Sandor’s hum of approval, you did what you promised. You bought him a drink and the two of you sat talking until the bar closed. You parted ways, but not before you wrapped your arms around Sandor in a hug and gave him your number, telling him to call any time, day or night. For the first time in a long time, Sandor went to bed with a smile on his face.

(a/n: I hope you like it. I’ll be honest, I haven’t had much inspiration for writing lately but hopefully I’m back in the swing of things.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @littlemisscaptainfandom​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks​ @silversprings98​

[oddcoupler222]

Akskdkdk I’m not crying I just got some tww feelings in my eyes and to the rest of tww fans you’re welcome (I’m the biggest one of them all) let it be multi chapter 🤲🏻

did i take one person asking for something and turn it into a spinoff semi romance novel? i… may have.

Eliza -

Colleen -

(for funsies)

 Fall 2018

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved her work study job in the registrar’s office. But she had friends with various other jobs throughout campus, and she knew because of their tales that her job wasn’t the worst.

Would she love to trade with her new friend, Sara, and have the job in the printing lab in the library, where she would just have to un-jam the printer and restock it with paper, then sit on her laptop? Of course. But she was also nosy as fuck and she got a lot of insider info from her supervisor here. Plus, she got all of the registration codes early. So who was the real winner?

Still Sara.

“Hello? Hi. I’m sorry, are you busy? I’m - I’m not trying to be obnoxious, but I really really have to get into a class, and I have nowhere else to go to ask. I’ve tried the professor, I’ve tried her TA. I’ve asked all of the upperclassmen I know. And this is the final stop before I may very well have a breakdown.”

A frantic, pleading voice interrupted her IG scrolling. It was technically one of her two fifteen minute breaks that she got during her five hour shift. She intended to tell the interloper that she would have to wait until the other side of the office didn’t have a line, because where her desk was, was technically closed.

But Eliza had never seen an angel in real life before. And she was such a simple, simple lesbian.

Never in her life had she ever been struck like this, though. The tousled blonde hair that she could see was usually nice and orderly. The clothes that screamed an upper-middle class (at the very least) background, though trendy.

Blue eyes crystal clear but starting to brim with tears.

“I’m not busy. What can I do for you?”

“Thank the gods! In order to graduate on time with my major and both of my minors, I need to double up on some courses. Which means I have to take some courses before I’m technically supposed to. So, I got permission to take Ethnicity and Identity with Dr. Oakhart next semester, even though it’s a semester early. Because I need to take Cultures of Essos the semester after, and it’s a prereq. But it took forever to get permission to take Oakhart’s class early; I had to basically camp out in her office,” a little laugh fluttered out, anxiously. “And now? She gave me permission but told me she wouldn’t let me jump the waitlist. I just. I really need to get into that class. Can you even just tell me how long the waitlist is, maybe? Please?”

Someone was wound extremely tightly. It wasn’t usually something Eliza, as a laidback person, enjoyed. But she was already charmed.

“Let me check.”

She typed in her credentials into the system as she surreptitiously glanced up at the girl. Her cheeks were flushed and seven hells. She was cute.

“You really camped out in her office?”

“Huh?” A fleeting smile flashed over her face, and it warmed everything inside of her. “Oh. Well, I know it sounds crazy in retrospect. I can just sometimes get very focused.”

“I gotcha.” Eliza did not, in fact, relate. But her pretending to put this girl at ease.

She pulled up Oakhart’s Gender and Identity class for the spring – and yikes, there was a waitlist a mile long.

“That’s not a good face.”

“Ouch.” She kidded.

“Gods! No, your face isn’t -”

She stopped her before she could ramble anymore. Especially because she wasn’t sure she could handle some sort of mangled compliment from this gorgeous creature without stumbling over herself. “It’s cool. Uh, yeah, no the waitlist isn’t bad.” She lied through her teeth.

“It’s not?” The could-be model’s voice was as incredulous as it should be, as she tried to lean over the counter to see the computer. Like she had to see to believe.

And Eliza quickly turned the computer more toward herself, “Uh, you can’t - against policy-” once again, the lies.

“Sorry. That was probably crossing a line.” She blew out a deep breath and her shoulders deflated. “I guess, can you just put me on the bottom of the list?”

“Yeah,” she lied, fully intending on breaking the rules, as she clicked the top of the waitlist to flag her into the class. “I just need… your name.”

She very much wanted to learn her name.

“Colleen Durand. D-U-R-A-N-D,” she spelled it, and Eliza could very easily see that she’d spelled her name or heard it spelled just so in order to get places in life many times.

She typed her name into the first place on the wait list. “I imagine you will probably hear about this class sometime soon. Don’t fill this block on your class schedule.”

An all too brief, but brightly blazing smile stole her breath. “Thanks so much.” Colleen checked her wrist, a nice looking silver watch glinting in the light coming in from the window. “Gods, I have to go. All right. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome!” She called after her.

Colleen Durand. She loved the registrar’s office.

Spring 2019

Approaches to Comparative Literature… was a joke.

Colleen rarely thought of classes like that, because all she had in her head was her mother’s voice, saying, “If I’m paying for you to go to a public institution“ - even though it wasn’t in the top 5 universities in the nation (god forbid she go to a public university, even if it was ranked as one of the top ten colleges in the country) - “You’d better be bringing back nothing short of straight A’s.”

She was a junior in college, was on track to graduate at the top of her class even with having two minors - she took 6 classes a semester, not counting the summer and winter semester courses she took. And she took all of them seriously - took color coded notes by hand, sat in the front of the class.

But this course… she just couldn’t. She tried for the first two weeks, learned that the professor left much of his job up to the TA, and then said TA had hit on her in an extremely slimy way and she - well, after that she started slipping into the back row. Just this one class wouldn’t hurt.

She was the only one in her row and sitting in the back gave her a whole new perspective.

It especially gave her a perspective on the girl she’d only known as Nice Girl at the registrar office who doesn’t think I’m crazy before now, and now she knew her name - Eliza.

Eliza, she’d learned from sitting in the front, types vigorously during every class on her laptop and occasionally makes very funny commentary.

It was only in switching her seat to sit behind Eliza that she realized she isn’t taking notes on her laptop, but was instead just being very active on various social medias. Mostly twitter.

@elizathesapphicSCREAMING my TA just announced that some of our earliest lgbt writers were great friends and roommates. i could teach this course better lmao

She wasn’t wrong.

@elizathesapphica limerick -there once was a TA from hellwhose hair is rock solid from gelhis voice is nasally and gratinghis ignorance is so fucking frustratinglet’s not forget he’s smarmy as well

Colleen had genuinely had to smother a laugh from that one. And, it turned out, from many others. The semester passed in a blur of moments - her twentieth birthday, an intense and stressful visit from her mom, juggling 6 courses and her first practicum - but Eliza stands out.

They don’t talk, because… well, what would they even talk about? They seem like really different people and Eliza is super lively, but she learns a lot about her.

If it wasn’t obvious from her twitter handle (obviously), she’s a lesbian. Who very much loves Margaery Tyrell - someone Colleen vaguely knows is a recently out politician - and Sansa Stark - who Colleen is very familiar with, because of the writings she’d done and the classes she’d taken that Sansa had TA’d for before she’d finished her master’s - and their very public relationship.

As well as many, many other lesbian celebrities and television shows that Colleen does not watch or follow, but is still entertained by because Eliza is entertaining.

At the end of the semester, she follows Eliza’s twitter on the account she never uses that is basically untraceable to her. It has her name on it, sure, but nothing else. No pictures. No retweets.

But Eliza’s twitter is good for a laugh and sometimes she needs that.

Fall 2019

“Ohhhh my godddd, Sara. Can you believe it’s her?” Eliza wrapped her arm around her best friend’s shoulders, pulling her close - as if they could shrink back against the wall behind them.

They were going home the following day for winter break and so it seemed like everyone who had an off campus apartment was throwing a party. Which was great because Eliza hadn’t gone out this semester much at all. There had been too much work and too much - uhhh well, being lazy and not wanting to leave her dorm when she could binge watch shows with Sara.

Sara elbowed her in the side accidentally as they fell back against the wall. “It’s who?”

She pointed across the large living area full of tipsy-to-drunk college students, to the front door. “Colleen! She - I don’t think she ever comes out? Why do you think she is right now?”

Sara’s eyes rolled before she jostled their shoulders. “Oh you mean your cruuuush. I don’t know, it’s the end of the semester. Everyone’s out. It’s not a big deal.”

Eliza ignored her and stared at Colleen as she and a friend Eliza recognized didn’t know the name of - she was a master social media creep but that didn’t help when someone didn’t have social medias - chatted and made their way across the room.

And her heart started racing. “Oh my gods. Oh. She’s coming over here. Do you think she -”

“We’re right next to the drinks, why do you think she’s coming over?” Sara’s retort quickly popped her rapidly inflating hopes, and she trained a critical eye on Colleen-Gorgeous-Durand. “That is dream crush girl?”

Eliza spun so quickly to face Sara that she nearly sloshed her vodka cranberry over the rim of her cup. “How can you say it like - like that? Look at her!”

“I mean. She is pretty. In a buttoned up way.” Sara turned to face her, having to tilt her head up just enough to quirk an eyebrow. “Is that your type? You haven’t dated much in our eight month friendship tenure.”

Eliza scoffed. “No! No. I don’t have a… type.” She started slapping Sara’s arm, “Ohhhh gods, she’s coming, she’s coming, she’s -”

Sara caught her hand and held it tight, hissing, “Calm down, you look insane.”

Colleen approached them with a nervous looking smile. “Hey. Can I ask where you got your drink?” She surveyed the table in front of her, dubiously, “I just don’t really see the mixer I want -”

It was like an automatic reaction. Eliza’s hand shot out and offered her cup, “Take it! Still full. Just made it. Made tons of them. See?” She held it up so the rim reflected the dim light. “I didn’t take a sip yet or anything. I can go make another cup.”

Those sky blue eyes were so brilliantly light and she gave the slightest twitch of an eyebrow as she accepted Eliza’s drink. “Um… thanks?”

“Yeah. No prob. Enjoy.” She grinned, knowing it was too bright for the moment, but whatever.

She felt triumphant, even when Sara collapsed against her in a fit of giggles as Colleen walked away. “Holy shit. I see now why you haven’t dated.”

“Um, what is that supposed to mean? She sought me out.” Now that she replayed the interaction, though, she could… sort of… see where she’d gone wrong.

Oh, fuck.

Sara only laughed harder, letting Eliza’s hand go and wrapping it around her waist in a hug. “Listen.” She tried to calm her laughter. “Listen. What I just witnessed means one of two things: your crush is an absolute idiot who took a drink from you, a weird ass stranger at a party. Or she actually somewhat recognizes you, too, and doesn’t think you’re a creepy stranger.”

“Oh, fuck. Now I need to find more cranberry juice.”

Spring 2020

“Who’s that girl over there? She keeps looking at us.” Colleen’s friend and flatmate, Natalia, commented. They were in the dining hall, which is a rarity since they hadn’t lived on campus since they were freshmen.

“What girl?”

“Pretty, dark hair, dark eyes. She has like 4 piercings up her ear. She has a rainbow pin on her backpack. Seems gay.”

Pretty with dark hair and eyes, the earrings, and the dead giveaway rainbow pin already tells her it’s most likely Eliza Harlow, even before she turns and looks. Colleen rolls her eyes. “How does she seem gay? Besides the rainbow pin,” she adds on, even though she knows - of course Eliza Harlow is gay.

Her still very active twitter is still hilarious and very, very full of lesbian pop culture. It’s gotten almost kind of frustrating, the fact that Eliza never really posts anything about herself on her twitter. Colleen definitely knows she is a lesbian more than anything - she posted something just last night about a pro soccer player and proclaimed that her lesbian heart wasn’t going to survive her coming out.

But she never posts anything about her own life. It’s not like Colleen cares? But she can’t help but be intrigued. It’s weird. But maybe that’s just the culture they live in these days.

She still turns and looks where Natalia is pointing, anyway. Sure enough, Eliza is sitting - backpack perched on the table next to her bagel, rainbow pin on display - with her ever present friend whose name Colleen knows is Sara (thanks, twitter). Pretty with her dark hair curling, as usual, over her shoulders.

And, Natalia was right. She’s throwing looks over at them.

Eliza had spoken to her for the first time, without having to do so for a class project, last week. She’d tossed her backpack over her shoulder super casually - Colleen had noticed out of the corner of her eye, as she’d packed up her own bag - and approached her.

“Can I borrow your notes?”

Colleen was always loathe to part with her notes. She took pride in them - even color coded them - and she doubted that strangers would take as much care with them as they deserved.

But Eliza… well, she didn’t really know her. But she didn’t feel like a stranger either. Especially with her eyes looking all hopeful and nervous. She wondered if Eliza had fallen behind in class with all of the work she was doing on her social medias. Or on her work for the internship she had at the Red Keep (thanks, twitter).

She’d handed over her notebook with a smile that was genuine.

“Whatever. The rainbow pin is why she seems gay, fine. But she’s coming over here.” Natalia brings her back to the moment, making a face at the meatloaf she’s eating before she pushes the tray away. 

Colleen sat up straighter, dropping her own fork. “That’s Eliza. We’re in Valyrian Lit class together.”

Eliza walked even closer, looking… apprehensive. Her big, expressive eyes were downcast, as she worried at her generous bottom lip. Which was weird because no, she didn’t know Eliza personally. But she kind of did know her personality. And she was not apprehensive.

It took a moment for Colleen to notice the notebook in her hands. And that it wasn’t the same green one - always green notebooks for lit classes - she’d given Eliza three days ago.

“Hey! Colleen! Hey. Uhhh. I have… your notebook.” Eliza held out the notebook toward her, shifting back and forth on her feet. “Your notes were - great. Such a help.”

“No problem, but…” Colleen eyed the notebook - a mint green as opposed to her hunter green. “That’s not mine.”

“No, it is! I - it is.” Eliza cleared her throat and slid it down onto the table. “It’s definitely yours, now. Um. The thing is. My obnoxious roommate  - I didn’t choose her? I was supposed to live with my friend, but then housing got all messed up and. It’s a whole thing,” she waved her hand, and Colleen, despite being so anal about what the fuck happened to her notebook, couldn’t help but be entertained. “The point is, she spilled her coffee all over your notebook.”

“What?!” All the gods, her notes. All her time and color coordination. And that had all of her handouts and - fuck. Dr. Lannister was not an easy professor to pass, his exams were notoriously difficult -

“Ohhhh, shit,” Natalia whispered.

Eliza quickly flipped the notebook open, frantically pointing at the pages. “No! Wait. I, I dried out your notebook and spent all last night re-writing your notes. I tried finding a matching notebook, but this was the only green one they had at the store. And I bought colored pens, because I figured out the color system, too. It’s all there. I swear. And I made copies of all of the handouts and put them in the back. Thanks. For the notes. I’ll never ask again, I swear.”

She hitched her backpack over her shoulder without another word and spun on her heel.

Colleen leaned over the table to peek at her notes and… wow. Eliza really did figure out her color coding system, even down to the obsessive tonal color changes for different types of literature. And. She skimmed her eyes quickly over the page - Eliza definitely left some insightful notes in here that Colleen herself had missed.

She turned her head to see if she could even call out her thanks to Eliza, but she was too far away. All she could see was the other girl slapping her palm against her forehead as she turned to leave the hall.

It made her smile.

Fall 2020

Professor Stark tapped her hands on her desk, “And as much as I know group projects aren’t everyone’s favorite thing, the sad reality is that we have to work with people in real life that we don’t get to choose. So, you will all individually document what you do in this project and then evaluate each other’s contributions at the end. You have your groups, the rubrik, and some examples to start with. Even though the project isn’t due for over a month, I would highly recommend starting it early.”

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved group work by any means, especially when the groups were assigned.

Colleen caught her eye and asked, “You want to come to my place this weekend to get started? I really don’t like to wait until the last minute for these kinds of things.”

Eliza was pretty sure she was going to write Sansa Stark a thank you letter.

[julibf]

WHY THE END OF GAME OF THRONES IS NOT WORKING FOR ME...

I told in some of my past metas that I wrote after the show was done, why the ending was so unsatisfying and I am going to try to explain why here in some point. I have to say, the fact it was so sad and heartbreaking is not really the reason. The Mists of Avalon was my go to novels in my teen years, its VERY sad and heartbreaking, yet it felt right by the end. It made sense.

This is not how I am feeling by the end of GAME OF THORNES and I am afraid to say, Its George RRM who is letting me down, not Benioff and Weiss. So lets start with the points that are making my head spin.

BRAN THE BROKEN KING

If accept Bran Stark as the final King of this story, I have to pretend I didnt read the past books A CLASH IF KINGS and a FEAST FOR CROWS, where we had very good contenders fighting for the Throne (Rob Stark, Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, etc) Yes, some of tyhose men were not so good from a moral point of view, but they brought strength, militar support, militar and political alliances, legitime claims to the Throne...

I could go on and on and on. There is absolutely no reason for why would Yara Greyjoy would bend the knee to Brandon Stark and accept him as her leader and ruler; or the Prince of Dorne, or the Lords from the Westerlands. This choice is absolutely absurd and if you read the books you would know that picking a boy king, with no claim to the Throne or no powerful armies makes any sense at all. Not to mention, I really dislike the idea that humans are incapable to control their own emotions, and because of that we must pick a God like creature with no emotions. 

Whe we add the fact Bran had hardly any experience ruling or leading people during the 7 years of this story, this pick gets evern mroe and mroe bizarre. I understand George wanted a surprising ending and he wanted to go against the expectations, but this choice is an utopia. I cant get behind this choice. I am sorry.

TYRION HAND OF THE KING

Again, do I have to pretend I didnt read the books and actually know that being a Kingslayer is a very terrible sin to carry on Westeros??? Tyrion is not a beloved figure in this story, even before he killed his own father, Tywin Lannister. 

Tyrion decision to kill his father, not only started the downfall of House Lannister, it also made the entire region of the Westerlands political weaker and more vunerable to future attacks.He must be a very despised figure in the entire realm. Yet, he will be the secind person in charge of Westeros?? 

At this point I am at loss of words. I have no idea what George is planning with this.

JON KILLING DAENERYS AS A LOVER IS A TERRIBLE IDEA.

Awful, terrible, horrible idea. Any way you slice, this was a terrible idea to end such amazing novel. Its corny, outdated and down right dangerous, considering we live in a world where females are at risk of being murdered by their male partners all the time. 

This is such underwhelming decision, in a sea of underwelming decisions that I am starting to think George was simply trying to make us all hate this ending. 

We could have the realm raising in Rebelion against the Queen of Ashes; we could have second Dance of Dragons; We could have Arya using her underused super powers as a Faceless men to kill Daenerys.  No, we will have Jon Snow, still making excuses for Daenerys terrible behavior, begging her to start acting better???? telling her she will always be his queen while putitng a dagger into her heart!!! 

Agian, this ending is coming from George himself. I cant really blame the D’s for this mess. 

JON SNOW AND DAENERYS TARGARYEN ROMANCE WAS ANOTHER TERRIBLE IDEA. 

Awful, terrible, horrible idea. Any way you slice, this was a terrible idea to end such amazing novel. If you dont believe Political Jon theory, than Jon Snow is just a completely fool, who fell in love with a tyrant, closed his eyes to all her terrible behavior and in the end was forced to kill the love of his life to save humanity. He is a idiot. and it breaks my heart this is how Jon will be remembered by audiences.  Some people keep on telling me. “Oh, by, I dont think this is how George will write him, I think its going to be much better” But I have to say, I dont think it will. 

I do believe Jon was playing Dany in the beggining of their romance and was manipulating her in order to use her dragons and armies to save the North, but I also believe that once he finds out she is his family too, he started to became divided between his Targ and Stark familes. He is a family man in the end of the day and he must feel some sort of guilty for his actions towards D@ny. 

I think that George will keep Political Jon hidden between the lines, just like the show did. He may write much betetr and be more obvious, but I dont think it will ever be revealed explicit to the audience. 

Here is what I think George is trying to do with Jon. In one side we have Jon Snow trying his best to save the North and his family and doing wherever its takes to protect them, and doing not some nice things, like manipulating a woman and seducing her in order to save his realm; We also have the Rheagar son, who is in love with Sansa and who had prmoised to protect her no matter waht. 

In the other side we have the Ned Stark son, who wants to keep his vows to D@ny and wants to fulfil his promise to her; wants to do his duty; We also have the family man, who is trying to see the best in this horrible tryant and fighting the idea of becoming a kinslayer. Ned Stark would be horrified to have to kill another Stark.

Thats why I believe Jon was so conflicted about killing D@ny in the end. But in the end, its just too much. Too fucking much. No, I dont want Jon Snow, after so many years, after so much pain and disaster to still be wondering if he must kill a tyrant to save his God damn family and people. FFS, I wanted Jon to kill D@ny like Jaime killed Aerys, with conviction that he was doing the right thing. 

I wished Jon and Dany had been just allies and later becamed enemies. This would be a much better ending for both characters.

HIDDING THE POV’s AND THE CHARACTERS REAL MOTIVATIONS

You know this will happen in the books too and I am already dreading. Basically, does Jon believes D@ny is a terrible ruler and its scared of her?? oh well, I will keep this behind the lines, so that the readers dont catch up that she is the monster of the story; Does Jon has feeling for Sansa, her cousing sister? oh well, I will keep this very hidden and boscure and will make the Jon and D@ny romance seems its the love story of the novels;Does Sansa has real feelings for Jon and its desperately trying to keep him as KITN?? of well, I will also keep Sansa’s feelings and desires hidden and in contrast, I will make her animosity towards D@ny very appparent and imply its because Sansa wants to be a queen herself.

There is no reason Jon Snow would fall for someone as entitled and arrogant as D@enerys, none. George is making a disservice to his hero by pretending he is madly in love with this spoiled brat. This storyline is awful, even if Jon is pretending he is in love with D@ny. 

The only reason he is writting this crap is to hide from the audience how very terrible D@ny is, he is manipulating the reader. If Jon Snow never complains about Daenerys cruel decision to forbid him to ever tell anyone about his real name, than the reader will also never question Daenerys terrible decision. Her terrible behavior is almost forgotten. 

If Sansa doesnt follow Jon’s pleas and tells Tyrion about Jon’s identidy, but keeps to herself the real reason she wants Jon free from D@enerys, than the audience will be mad at Sansa, for 

Second of, I am tired of the show playing with this Dark Sansa character and now I believe this is how the books will do it too. They will hide Sansa’s real motivations (like love for Jon and her family) and make more salient for the reader the false motives, like her hunger for power.

If you ask a tv  viewer, Sansa got everything she wanted, because her feelings for Jon were almost hidden to the audience, but her desire for an independent North were made very salient. Why not write a line where she says she doesnt want to be queen, that she wants Jon Snow safe and protect in Winterfell and that she wants him to continue as KITN? Well, because they want this storyline to be implicit and this is just too frustratin for me.

AS YOU SEE....

By the end of the day, I am disspaointed in George, not really the TV show, which is even more sadder. I think he wrote a very beautiful story, but his ending is taking away all my joy for those characters and this novel. I know he wanted avoid the expected and subvert the expecations, but he is shooting his own story in their foot. And its braking my heart. 

What terrible way to end such fascinating tale...

[crowkingwrites]

Battle of the Bands (Ch.10)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader, Jon Snow x Reader, Viserys Targaryen x Reader, Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You just moved into the city for the first tie all by yourself. After you get your dream summer job working for a small magazine, you find yourself in the middle of the city’s rock festival: Battle of the Bands. Local rock bands throughout the city compete to win a record deal that could change their lives. Your job? Get close to them and write about them online.A single girl in the city surrounded by rocker boys during the summertime. What could possibly go wrong?

Words: 2664 // AO3 Link

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine

The first time you ever heard My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade live, you had a nervous chill crawl down your back. It brought you a secret kind of joy that you couldn’t articulate to anyone. Robb Stark offering you a sweet, fried food and asking to talk also gave you a nervous chill down your back, but it brought you no joy.

“Alright,” you nodded. “I guess.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s…talk,” you said. Robb smiled gratefully and sighed with relief. You both walked in silence until you reached a secluded part of the festival: the historic section. Outdoor panels were set up with plaques and pictures from the past. The Battle of the band festival dated all the way back to the 1930’s when people had so little, but came to the park in flocks to listen to music and maybe feel a little bit happier. Both of you had polished off the elephant ear. You licked off the remaining cinnamon sugar off of your fingers.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days,” Robb broke the silence. “And I’ve made up my mind on a lot of things. And I want to say I’m sorry. Jon told me what happened. I didn’t realize all of this would affect you so greatly. I thought you didn’t care, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have panic attacks often?”

“Yeah. I-uh, well yeah I do,” you admitted. You touched the back of your neck. “I know I’m confident and extroverted, but I have my moments. I get scared. I get really, really wound up and it feels like everything’s falling apart. Jon told you about that day?”

“Yes and no. He yelled at me about it. He was pissed. Jon wanted me to go apologize to you immediately and tore me up about it. I’ve always been quick to anger. Sansa and Jon have always humbled me when I get out of hand. Both of them have bad anxiety.”

You thought of the pretty, rich Sansa with thousands of Instagram followers and a cute youtube channel. You thought of her lovely figure and her flawless skin. Her smile could light up an entire city. She didn’t need to rely on family money when she made so much of her own. She was an IT girl and she had anxiety.

“Sometimes, I wish I could turn back time and change things,” Robb said.

“Like with Robyn?”

“No. I don’t regret what happened with Robyn. She was a mess. I was a mess. We both made mistakes and it happened. If I regretted it, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

“And you regret what happened with me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want Robyn in my life anymore. I wanted her gone. I regret what happened with you because I want you around. I have feelings for you, Y/N. Real romantic feelings.”

If you were till eating the elephant ear, you would’ve choked. Luckily, you weren’t eating anything. Still, you choked on the air round you, making an awkward seas creature noise. Robb touched your arm and looked over you concerned.

“Are you ok? Do you need water? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine!” you said. That was a lie. You were not fine. You just lied to your boss. Good job.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have—

“No, no. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Robb looked away from you a bit. He turned back to meet your eyes with his own. “So, how do you feel about me?”

The thought was occurred to you since you met him. There an immediate attraction to him. He was your equal in every way. He loved creativity and his small magazine thrived in the city. He was quick-tempered, but he apologized for his actions. He was kind, protective, and the way he smiled at you made you swoon.

Could you date Robb? Did you want to? After what he said and how he held your job over your head, it was hard to decide. Robb still waited while you stare off into space.

“I’m attracted to you. I think you know that,” you smiled, feeling a rush of color coming to your cheeks. “I like being around you. You make me happy.”

“So if I asked you out on a date?” Robb was tip-toeing and you knew it.

“I would have to say no.” You touched Robb’s chest. “What you said and did really hurt. I’ve lost—

“You lost your trust in me,” Robb completed the sentence. He let out a few mumbled cuss words and dug his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. You have every right. I fucked up, but I’d like to make it up to you. I’m not sorry for how I feel. I like you. Oh, I like you so much. If I can change your mind, would you consider me then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I would,” you nodded. Robb smiled wide and took your hand. He kissed the back of it softly. Your heart leaped high above you free to touch the sky and kiss the birds.

“I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Robb’s words left you warm and fuzzy inside. You remembered Jon and his kind words and actions. Feeling generous, you called him, wanting to thank him for everything’s he’s done. You heard a slight fumble and then a sleepy voice.

“Hello?”

“Jon, did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” you giggled to yourself.

“What? Oh, I was only napping. Don’t worry. What’s up?” Jon’s slow drawl made it hard to focus. You secretly wished you could wake up to his sleepy voice.

“Uh, Robb came to me. We talked about things.”

“Did he say he was sorry? I told him to say he was sorry. I swear his anger gets the better of him.”

“He did! He did. I just wanted to thank you for everything.”

“You didn’t have to say that.”

“But I want to. You’ve been so nice to me since I got here. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You have no idea,” Jon laughed awkwardly. “I’m really happy you and Robb are getting along.”

“Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’?”

“There’s no ‘but’.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! So, did he ask you out?”

“He did.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him no,” you told Jon. You heard some shuffling around and then a more alert voice.

“You turned him down? Why?”

“Because I don’t trust him. Not like before. I don’t trust him like I trust you.” You realized what you said right after you said it. The realization hit both of you at the same time. What you said was true. Robb may have been kind to you, but Jon was kinder. Robb gave you a job, but Jon gave you what you needed: understanding and a hug. You had almost forgotten you were on the phone with him. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“It’s alright,” Jon reassured you. “I was thinking too. Could I see you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, you can.”

The next day you found yourself looking in a mirror. You put so much effort into your outfit that you started to doubt yourself. Maybe your shorts were too short or your t-shirt wasn’t clever enough. Margie hugged you from behind.

“And why does the cutest girl look so sad in front of a mirror?”

“Because I’m just confused,” you admitted, relaxing under her touch. “I told Robb that I would give him another chance. He wants to be with me, but I trust Jon more.”

“What about Viz and Ramsay? You fucked them. You trust them too, right?”

“No,” You shook your head. “Viz and I aren’t talking anymore. He doesn’t want to chase me. He wants to be chased. As for Ramsay, well…” Your voice trailed off.

“Viz dumped you?” Margie said.

“You can’t dump someone you were never dating, Margie.” You let your shoulders slump. Margie turn you to her.

“Do you remember how we met?” she smiled.

“Online? Or real life?”

“Online, silly billy,” Margie opened your bedroom window. Sun streamed through with a gentle wind blowing air through. “Ben was cheating. He couldn’t make up his mind about who he liked more. You’re confused. Just like Ben was.”

“You’re comparing me and Ben? Ben was a piece of shit.”

“Ben wanted all the girls to himself. You don’t.”

“What? You don’t think I want girls to myself?” you played with Margie’s hair. She rolled her eyes.

“I mean, you’re caught up in four—three guys. You want love, not some guy for fucking. You’ve always wanted love. The great adventure of it all. The glory and the swooning of it all. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Margie hugged you tightly.

“Thank you.” Margaery was your best friend. When you had doubt, she was there supporting your angelic wings and your devilish horns. Both of you felt constant vibrations in your pockets.

“Loras?” Margie looked at her phone.

Loras: [I need you both to come down here. At sunspot.] Loras: [Ramsay’s going nuts.] Loras: [Jesusss he’s drunk. Get over here now.] You stood outside the Sunspot, next to Margaery, watching an angry young man rage inside. Ramsay threw down and entire table, food and all. He screamed at Loras when you stepped inside.

“Fuck you!” He said. “Fuck your fucking boyfriend! Fuck!” You exchanged a look with Margie. Margie looked to her brother. Loras stood there frozen with his hands up, shrugging at both of you.

“Ramsay,” you held your hands up and approached the raging bull. Ramsay turned to look at you. His eyes raged, but then softened when he saw you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been disqualified,” Ramsay told you. “Some bands thought my band was too inappropriate to compete.” Ramsay looked hard at Loras as if he meant to burn him with just a look. You turned Ramsay’s face back to you.

“Calm down, we’ll get to the bottom of this, ok? Loras didn’t do anything. Let’s go home.”

“Go home? Go home? Are you fucking—I know it was him! Him and Renly!” Ramsay lunged Loras’ way. You had to think of something quick.

“I’ll go home with you. We can go for round two if you want,” you winked at him. Ramsay’s dark chuckle echoed through the restaurant. You reached for his hand and he happily took it. You guided a drunk and horny boy out of the restaurant and left Margaery to deal with the mess. One uber ride later and you found yourself in the same apartment you left only days earlier.

You eyed the same dog leash, classic rock posters, and guitar nestle in the corner. Ramsay’s apartment seemed to be a clean bachelor pad with horror and historic memorabilia displayed everywhere. A small beagle puppy yelped at your feet when you stepped into the kitchen.

“Audrey!’ Ramsay snapped. The sall pup stopped barking and smiled at you with her tongue out.

“I didn’t know you had a puppy! She’s so precious!” You bent down and gave the good girl lots of love. You obsessed over her big brown eyes and big ears.

“I just got her. Haven’t gotten around to telling everyone yet. So, round two?” Ramsay’s hands played with your hips. He pulled you to him and closed the space between you.

“What happened back there?”

“Are you going to make me talk about my feelings? I don’t do that.”

“Ramsay, your band got cut.”

“No, we were disqualified. Band cuts are tomorrow. We had the fucking votes.”

“So what happened?”

Ramsay backed off of you. His fists clenched at his sides. Ramsay pulled out another bottle of liquor and poured himself a little. He tossed it back and sniffed sharply.

“You weren’t at our last show. It was wild. The mosh pit was insane. People screamed my name like they were worshipping a god. I had this idea that on one of our songs, we would sacrifice a goat on stage.”

“What?” you reacted, stepping back.

“It wasn’t a real fucking goat. It was only a prop, but someone thought it was real.”

“But why did you think it was Loras?”

“Not Loras, Renly. I know his band doesn’t have the votes to go through the next two weeks, but my band did. If my band didn’t make it, his band would.”

“That’s…wrong.”

“People play dirty here. This happened last year too. Bands would sabotage each other and steal fans. When I do something creative on stage, it’s seen as obscene. But, other great bands have done the same as me. Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Is there anything we can do?” your eyebrows knitted together. “Could we report this?”

“No, it’s done. Straight from the judge’s mouth. We’re out, and I’ll have to report to my father tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my father and I cut a deal. If my band didn’t win and get this record deal, then I have to clean up my act,” Ramsay tossed another drink back. You felt a vibration in your shorts. You wanted to ignore it, but the last time you ignored your phone it got you in trouble. You peeked to see a text from Jon.

Jon: [Were you still down to hang today? I wanted to see you.]

“You can’t help me. Not even if you tried,” Ramsay said. A part of you felt bad for him. It rooted inside like a growing plant. Ramsay was rough, wild, and awful. He liked himself that way. You did too. He wasn’t gentle or romantic like Jon or Robb, and he had a hold on you. You didn’t want to let go of him easily.

You weren’t sure why you did it. You remembered watching the Phantom of the Opera for the first time. In the finale, the music swelled as Christine kissed the Phantom for the first time. You heard the chorus in your head. In that moment, you always thought that Christine saved the Phantom. You placed your hands on Ramsay’s face and kissed him softly just as Christine kissed the Phantom. Maybe you cared for him more than you thought. Maybe you wanted to save him.

The moment was quiet and gentle. Ramsay didn’t bite you. He didn’t grab your ass. He just stood there and kissed you back. When you broke the kiss, Ramsay tugged on you and kept you close. Your forehead touched his.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Ramsay asked. “You know I don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t know,” you said. Ramsay’s eyes narrowed on you. You caught a whiff of the alcohol from his breath.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to help you.”

“And kissing me softly is going to get me a record deal?”

You took a few steps back and looked down from him. Ramsay pulled you into him again for the third time. His hand interlocked with yours.

“Just say it.”

“Say what?” you asked. Ramsay kissed your cheek. His nose brushed by yours and he started laughing. You felt another vibration in your shorts. It had to be Jon.

“I like you too, stupid,” Ramsay said.

You peeked at your phone to see Jon’s text.

Jon: [Where did you want to meet up?]

“Oh, you’re meeting up with him,” Ramsay caught a peek at your phone.

“What? No. I mean—

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” Ramsay winked. “You can kiss whoever you please. I do like competition. I mean, I already knocked out Viserys. What’s another guy? It won’t matter in the end. You’re going to mine either way.”

You left Ramsay’s apartment dialing Jon on his cell. You weren’t sure what just happened. In two days, you were dumped. Forgiven. Asked out by two boys. And one already thought of you as his girlfriend.

Note to Self: Looking at memes isn’t going to solve your boy issues.

Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)

@angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09 @i-theredqueen@sleepylunarwolf  @loki-0fasgard@ravenqueenbr

Ramsay Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything Ramsay Bolton related)

@boltonblade  @why-so-red @sj-thefan @sunshinesydney@drunkenpoets@antiscocialfanwarrior@fnnexua @parkerplexed  @fraueninflammen

If you wish to be added, removed, or switched from any taglists, only ask friend!

[dailythranduilproject]

Today it’s @floranocturna turn with being interviewed! I would like to thank you for sharing with all of us! - Mirky.

General Questions: Username(s) we can find you under: Floranocturna and The Real Floranocturna (FanFiction.Net)

What Media do you create? Fanfictions, sometimes image edits

Are you self-taught or did you go to art school? I have a Masters degree in Literature (and History) and writing is indeed my job, but writing fanfiction and fantasy stories is my passion.

Which artists have influenced your style? Mainly Tolkien and Rowling, but there are numerous others along the way,which have shaped my style into what it is now.

Which are your favourite artists? Fragonard and Boucher (yes I love French rococo) and in the fandom my favorite artists are Kinko-White and Bohemianweasel.

Where can we find your work? AO3, Wattpad, tumblr, FanFiction.net, Quotev, DeviantArt and Inkitt.

What would you say you are best known for in the fandom? My writing

Do you have a favorite pairing? *ahem* I ship Thranduil with me of course XD

Do you have a favorite creation of yours you are especially proud of? My ongoing Thranduil story *The Secret of the Forest*, which I have recently rewritten into a Thranduil/OC story (it used to be a reader insert before). I have been working on this since 2016 and this story is very close to my heart.

Do you have a favourite fictional character, besides Thranduil of course? Severus Snape, because I really love how his character is neither good nor evil and the astounding amount of depth Rowling gave him.

What other fandoms are you part of? Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Avatar

Do you do commissions? Nope, sorry, no spare time left.

Any advice/words for others in the fandom?

First: Be kind and respectful and always remember that we are in this fandom to share our love for Thranduil and not to fight over him.

Second: Do not steal other people’s hard work. This is something I had to experience myself and it is NOT nice! Create your own works and if you cannot do that then support the artists by sharing their work and encouraging them with likes and comments.

Third: If you are a writer getting started I would like you to remember that only practice makes perfect. Keep writing, keep searching for that voice of yours and keep reading! Read books, read stories and then read even more! And then sit down and write again, let the words flow and don’t think about what others will think of it. Write for yourself and only when you feel comfortable with it, then put it out there for others to see. Don’t take criticism personally, but try to see it as a possibility to grow as an author.

Personal Questions:

If you could name a song (or two or three) that would describe you or your life, what would it be? ‘Unknown Legend’ by Neil Young, ‘Lost Direction’ by Beecake, ‘Resolve’ by Sleeping At Last

Favorite color? Green

Favorite Book? Since I cannot choose only one here go my top choices: ’The Silmarillion’, ‘The Lord of the Rings’ and ‘The Hobbit’ by Tolkien, Harry Potter 1-7 by Rowling, ‘Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell’ by Susanna Clarke.

Favorite movie? ‘The Fall’, because of its absolutely stunning cinematography, magical storytelling and of course Lee Pace and the adorable Cantinca Untaru.

Do you have a pet peeve? Ignorance and rudeness.

What country are you from? Austria, that place where the hills are apparently alive with the sound of music ;)

Who do you think you might have been in a past life? I have no idea, but hopefully someone remotely cool.

What do you like to do in your spare time other than create the media you work on? Photography, cosplay, reading and I enjoy taking walks alone or with my dogs while listening to music and thinking about new plot twists for my stories (yeah I can never really turn off the writing)

When did you join the fandom? I have been in the Tolkien fandom for a while (since the LOTR movies) and I have been a fan of Lee Pace already before The Hobbit movies (because of ‘the Fall’), but I started being more active around 2014/15.

TheMirkyKing’s Questions:

What is the hardest part of writing for you?

This is a difficult question, because many parts can be hard depending on my inspiration or the lack of it. The easiest part is usually the dialogue, because I just listen to what my protagonists say in my head and write it down. What’s hard is to keep track where everyone is standing, walking, moving around. Sometimes I think that my characters take on a life of their own and keep walking around and then I don’t know what are they doing. Sounds crazy, but it does happen! And actually sticking to my decisions regarding the plot is hard for me too, because I keep constantly having new ideas.

How do you fell about the upcoming series based off Middle-earth?

I do have mixed feelings about this. On one hand more Middle-earth is always a good thing and maybe a fresh take on Tolkien’s writings might bring a whole lot of characters and events to life on screen. But, and yes there is always a but, I honestly hope that the producers will not try to drag Middle-earth to Westeros, wanting to have a share in the success of Game of Thrones. Tolkien is not Martin and as much as I like Game of Thrones — hey, why do we have to wait until 2019 for that final season? —, I do not think that trying to imitate something that is successful in its own way is the path for this new Middle-earth series. Finding a new voice maybe even away from what Peter Jackson has set as standard might be a more logical and creative way to go.

If you could travel to Middle-earth, where would you want to call home?

This is an easy answer: Mirkwood of course. I would love to see Thranduil’s kingdom, especially after the War of the Ring, when the darkness has been destroyed and the forest has been renamed *Eryn Lasgalen*, the Wood of Greenleaves. I want to see the beauty of this primeval forest restored, the sunlit canopies of green and gold, the peaceful glades, flowers and trees growing in a new spring. Maybe even catch a glimpse of Thranduil’s new elk, which I am sure he will have. I’ve written about these woods so many times in my story that I somehow feel at home there although I’ve never even been there. Well, my heart is there and that is enough for me.

Follower Questions:

From @moonofmorrigan - How did you conceive the idea for your story, The Secret of the Forest?

This story started out quite simple because of my love for Thranduil, but it has grown into a much more complex project. I first had the idea of a romance, a love story with many obstacles involving an elf and a human. Over the course of 1,5 years many more layers have been added to it. I really love exploring Thranduil’s past, finding a credible backstory for his wife’s death and the many hardships he has suffered in his long lifetime, but I also have discovered that I enjoy playing around with my own characters, like the brothers Amardir and Faeldir. And the best part is that the readers like them too! This story is not just a fanfic about a beautiful Elvenking, but it is a story about love and loss, grief and sacrifice and the search for absolution. There are some universal truths to be found in this tale showing us that elves and humans might not be so different from each other after all.

From @moonofmorrigan - What things inspire you to continue writing it, and your original story about the dark elf?

Thranduil is the one thing that continues to inspire me every day to keep writing this story. But also all the readers and their comments, kudos, likes and votes keep me going. I am still overwhelmed by all the support I have gotten and the nice people I have met along the way in this fandom! My original story *The Enchanted Spring* about the dark elf Andor is my new ‘baby’ and I have a complete plot laid out already. It is quite different from my Thranduil story, although it does feature another beautiful elf. It is much darker and closer to folk tales and folklore. What I love about it is that this is all my own creation, no boundaries, no given facts. I can do whatever I want and play god in my world *evil laughter*.

@bellevox asked- I loved the fact that your husband made a song for your story. He’s a very talented musician! This is real love! If you do not mind, could you tell us a little about your family? If you do not want to, you do not need to.

I am really blessed to have such a loving husband! Not only does he support my writing, but he is also extremely patient and listens to my ramblings about plot twists, character arcs and synonyms. He has written 2 songs for my story (Nameless Lady and Thranduil’s Lament) and he keeps asking me for the next poem ;). As many of you must have guessed around here, I am a bit older than your average tumblr user, but hey, one is never too old to be passionate about something. I am a working mum of 5 (in between the age of 20 and 7) and we have 2 dogs (Yavanna and Nenya) and 3 cats (Mina, Zuko and Sansa). Our kids are growing up with Tolkien, Harry Potter and fantasy in general, Gandalf is a household name and even the little one can sing ‘They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard’ ;).

@beelovesbutterfly wanted to know- What is one cause that is dear to your heart?

As a mother of an angel baby, miscarriage and stillbirth are causes that are very close to my heart. These topics are still widely a taboo in our society and yet it happens to mothers all the time. I strongly believe that it is important to offer those mothers help and support and to let them know that they are not alone in their grief.

@beelovesbutterfly - What is your favorite flower? Daisy (it’s small, simple and perfect)

@beelovesbutterfly -Do you have a bad writing habit? I write too much. Just kidding, but no, seriously, I can deviate too much from what I want to say and I can spend hours researching synonyms and searching for that perfect word instead of just going ahead with the story. I’m trying to keep my sentences short and focused, but it’s difficult. And I have the tendency to get enamored with specific words, says my husband ;)

@beelovesbutterfly -Who is your Hollywood crush? **ahem** Lee Pace (obviously ;))

And from @eldritchmage - What story would you want to write about your favorite king that you haven’t written yet?

In have lots of other ideas about possible stories with Thranduil. I’ve been thinking on a story with an elvish OC, just to give it a different twist away from the dichotomy of mortal and immortal. But what I really would love to write is a humorous story, something light and funny and completely different from the angsty romance I am writing now. Possibly even a modern AU with Thrandy running a beauty parlor or something like that ;). I’m sure this would be loads of fun!

[graceverse]

this sudden inexplicable madness

Rating: Not Rated Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage Category: F/M Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Relationship: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Characters:Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Gendry Waters, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, Jaime Lannister, Arya Stark Additional Tags: underage-ish book and tv combination but au-ish, Language: English

Note:  Bit late. So sorry. I hope I can do all 31 days but oooh, work and RL hasn't been cooperating but I will try my very best. Thank you in advance for reading. Many thanks for the fabulous jonsa community, for all the love and inspiration!

“My sister.” There was a heavy thoughtful pause as everyone around the table waited with bated breath. “Well, she isn’t actually my sister; she’s more like a sister. I grew up with her and she took care of me when I was this small,” Tormund held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart, frowned and shook his head.  “Bit bigger than that,” he amended, looking cross eyed, “Wasn’t truly sure if she was of my blood and all that. Large woman though. Definitely. Nice big hefty breasts. Wide hips.  Not at all ugly, mind you. Hekla, we called her. ” Tormund answered, his face suddenly taking on a different shine, an old long ago memory touching him as he turned gentle and soft-eyed.

“Aye, I miss that woman. Used to scream at me all the fucking time. ‘ Ave not seen her since she got stolen by one of the men from ice river clan. Don't know what happened to her. ” Tormund was silent after a whole second, aggressively wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, as though trying to rid himself of the odd feelings that had surfaced after he answered Gendry’s query.

If Gendry had not been drinking too much, Jon suspected he would not have asked this utterly awkward question because honestly, Jon did not want to know details of anyone’s first kiss and not just any kiss, kisses from mothers and aunts did not count. Well, at least kisses that were familial and that had nothing to do with a painful-delicious stirring on their bodies. Gendry had been very exact.  And Jon could only guess why Gendry had asked in the first place. If Gendry had wanted to get some sound advice, this would not be the right venue or the right men to ask.

And even if Gendry had asked Davos – probably the only person Jon thought will give a decent enough guidance – it wouldn’t do Gendry any good. Gendry has his work cut out for him. Arya will not so easily relinquish her freedom. Not that Jon thought Gendry would hinder her, but still, at her age, Arya would be willfully against any sort of romance. She’d be more embarrassed at having tender feelings towards anyone.

Jon already felt a little sorry for Gendry but he was in an even worse situation. At least Gendry and Arya were not blood related. Jon despondently shook his head. He could not veer the conversation towards a different subject as everyone around the table had answered eagerly, sharing stories, murmuring and cursing names, depending on their experiences. The men had enthusiastically warmed up to the conversation, almost as though in a desperate attempt to try and forget that tomorrow will be another day of preparing for their battle against the army of the dead.

Mornings were spent relentlessly training, trying to effectively wield their dragonglass spears. Most of them were more adept at sword fighting and it was an entirely new skill using a spear; its length and weight was so very different from the swords that they were used to. But it was impossible to start making swords made of dragonglass. There was a severe shortage of blacksmiths at the castle and there were too many Lords and knights and soldiers that needed to be armed. A spear was more practical and easier to make.

Gendry had fashioned himself a hammer with dragonglass for its edges, testament to his cleverness at being a blacksmith. Even Arya had been envious. She wanted to fight with them but Jon had tasked her to lead the defense at Winterfell should they fail. She hated agreeing to this but there was no other choice. All able men will fight with him, the few that will remain and guard Winterfell needed a fierce warrior to lead them and Aryad had to concede that she did fit the description. She will protect Winterfell and Bran and Sansa. And if needed, if Jon turned into a wight, at least he was certain that Arya will be able to put a sword through him. She might not like it, she’ll hate him forever for it, but she was, before anything else, a wolf and a wolf will always protect her pack no matter what.

After their training, in the afternoon, they all had to sit down and listen to Free Folk’s story about the wights. They needed to know who they were up against and none of them have ever seen a dead man walking, had never fought someone who wasn’t afraid of any weapon, who didn’t bleed and didn’t get hurt, who will keep coming at you even after you’ve hacked off half of their body. Free Folks’ tales were gruesome, the stuff nightmares were made of – clawing bones skittering and scraping at the snow-covered land, jaws snapping as you stab them inside empty eye sockets, a torso dragging its way towards you – Free Folks liked telling these stories, liked the way the Southern kneelers shuddered at every horrifying detail of how they have constantly fought against the wights. In the end the Free Folks had to admit that they had not been able to defeat the dead, instead they had lost friends and family, children and wives and husbands and had to flee past The Wall. The only chance they all have at surviving the Night King and his army is if they fought together and even that wasn’t an assurance of success. The Night King now has a dragon wight.

Jon winced at the thought. Whatever advantage he had hoped they had with Dany’s dragons had significantly decreased and every one of them knew that. It was a daily struggle trying to tamp down their fear and desperation and Jon could not deny the men their right to drink themselves into stupor at night.

Sometimes, he wished he could do the same, but he was afraid what he might say or do once he gained the courage brought about by too much ale. There’s a certain room he’d be sure to visit. He wouldn’t even knock, he’d come barging in and wordlessly, desperately take her into his arms, crush her against his body, smother her with kisses. He would beg for her forgiveness, would demand that she look at him, would gently ask her if she could love him back, he would make her peak as he drink her in, lapping up her sweetness, pulling the auburn hair on her mound to make her whimper his name, beg him for more…

“Probably his sister too, eh, Snow?” Tormund asked, playfully elbowing him.

Jon snorted ale out of his nose, the burn instantly bringing tears into his eyes. He wiped his face and swallowed hard. What? Fuck. Had he said anything out loud? Did he moan her name?

Tormund looked at him in utter disgust and disappointment, grunting angrily. “Snow, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“What?” He asked in a strangled gravelly voice.

Davos peered at him from his cup and decided to rescue him from himself. “It’s quite common and not completely unheard of. Siblings grow up together, have built enough trust to try and,” Davos coughed delicately, “experiment...” he finished, his voice slightly fading as he arched his eyebrows at Jon.

Jon didn’t meet Davos’ enquiring gaze. Davos never got drunk, was always clear headed. He would remember everything that was said and done and while that was something Jon had encouraged and relied upon, tonight he wished Davos would conveniently forget about this. He felt his face was too open right now and Jon was certain that he would not be able to hide this ever growing feeling that had somehow taken root at his very core, slowly growing stronger regardless of how he constantly tried to fight against it. The tension between them didn't just suddenly spring up, it had always been there. Buried underneath layers upon layers of memories and years spent apart, thinking each one dead and lost and to have found her again, it stirred something inside Jon that was both familiar and terrifying. He couldn't understand it. It was like he had known these feelings for Sansa long before he had been able to hold her close and that it wasn't just him. Behind the calmness in her blue eyes, Jon could sometimes glimpse of a storm raging there, one that he could so easily drown in on. Jon felt as though he had lived thousands of lives: as a bastard boy, unloved by a woman with dark auburn hair, one as a sworn brother that lived on the edge of the world, another as a traitor, holding on to a dead girl with fair on her head, once as King and now as weary warrior ready to give up. And where was Sansa in all these lives he had lived in? Always in the shadows, fleeting and fluid, he was unable to take hold her her and pin her to him.

Jon shook his head, tried to clear his thoughts. “You’re forgetting I’m a bastard. Hardly allowed near Lord Starks’ precious daughters.”

A lie. One that Davos was quick to catch. And from where Gendry was seating, Jon could sense his stare. Gendry knew that he and Arya shared a strong bond and Jon wondered if perhaps Gendy was wondering if he shared any kisses with Arya when they were younger. Jon felt his lips twitching up. If he had tried, Arya would have laughed at him and then made him bleed. But Sansa…

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t even asking about your first kiss, you bloody idiot.” Tormund gave him another dirty look.

“Lord Snow is beneath this kind of talk.” The lazy drawl came from the farthest end of the table as Jamie Lannister very casually tilted his head and gave him an all-knowing smirk.

Jon tightly clenched his fist, glaring at The Kingslayer. He hated him with a force of a thousand winter storms and he wanted nothing than to throw him out of the castle. Always so sure of himself, so certain of his place in Winterfell. It galled Jon like nothing else. It had nothing to do with Jaimie swearing his life to Sansa and Sansa accepting him in front of everyone in the castle. The almost present urge to take off Jaime’s other hand wasn’t because Jon once caught him fingering the ends of Sansa’s hair. Of course not. No. He loathed Jaime for all those reasons and more.

“Don’t have to tell us who was your first kiss was, Kingslayer,” some knight from the Vale said, obviously too drunk to realize who he was talking too but Jaime didn’t seem to mind. He let out a long slow smile and shook his head in amusement.

“If you’re thinking of my sweet, sweet sister, then I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.” He chuckled lightly his eyes gleaming merrily, “and if you think I’ll give you the pleasure of sharing the information, like we’re friends, apologies good knight, for I will have to dissatisfy you once again. We are not friends. I do not engage in juvenile conversations such as this.” He paused, soaking in the tense silence that suddenly surrounded them. “But if you asked me who I first fucked, though…”

There was an uproarious laughter all around as everyone cheered and some even heartily clapped Jaime at the back. Tomorrow they will all regret these friendly gestures but nothing would dampen their good spirit. This was the only time they could laugh and forget the monsters they would soon have to face.  

Jaime very discreetly gave Jon a small salute and Jon wanted to tear his throat open, (also not because Jaime seemed to always know what to say to Sansa to make her smile, of course not) instead he abruptly stood up, silencing the table once again. “Forgive me my Lords, but I will have to excuse myself. I need to look at some of Sam’s weapon designs that we can use to bring down a dragon wight.”

His pronouncement immediately sobered everyone at their table and the men grunted in reply, slightly exasperated at being reminded of what they were about to face. Some sent Jon unmasked glares as they slouched into their chairs, staring into their cups in morbid, contemplative silence. Jon briefly felt guilty but he didn’t have any ready excuse and it was the only thing he could think of. It wasn’t a lie, anyway. He was supposed to meet Sam earlier. He did not have the time to try and soothe them, he had suddenly grown weary and he wanted nothing more than the solace of his room, Ghost’s calming silence.

He turned and immediately took his leave, desperately trying to escape Gendry’s question.

“Who was your first kiss?”

Because Jon suddenly remembered. He remembered everything.  

*** 

Sansa had always been beautiful.

Ever since he died and was brought back to life, Jon’s memory had been tangled up, like threads that snagged and pulled. There were things he remembered clearly but some were like the faded tapestries in Winterfell, there were colors he could point out but everything else was a blur. If he tried to remember anything in particular, he couldn’t recall it correctly. It would start off with as something familiar, a smile, a laugh, red hair shining like fire, a brotherly hug and a dagger to his hear and then abruptly it would end with darkness or the blankness of white snow. His memories were incomplete. Muddled up with other memories, with dreams and nightmares and it was like patches of clothes that had been sewn together that did not make sense and did not fit together.

But when Gendry asked his question: “Who was your first kiss?”

Jon was slammed by the memory of her and spring and the scent of something fresh and citrusy and suddenly, everything about Sansa was so easy ­– too ­- easy to remember. As though a dam had burst inside of him and he was flooded by the memories he had thought he had forever lost.   

*** 

Sansa had always been beautiful.

He could remember that as clearly and as surely as he was of how he had discovered the direwolf puppies years and years ago. Jon could not remember Sansa being born though, he was only three years old at that time. He didn’t remember anything about Sansa except she had been a precious bundle that Lady Catleyn always lovingly carried around the castle. Jon’s first memory of her was her blue eyes. I had captivated him. Robb’s eyes were blue, but it was a darker shade. Sansa’s had been luminous, the blue of far-off snow-capped mountains that he could see on clear days. Or the blue of winter roses that grew on Winterfell’s glass house. Like the wings of a common blue butterfly that he’d see during a lazy summer afternoons, perched on the outside walls of Winterfell.

Jon remembered wanting Sansa to be his. Not the way he wanted her now, it was different then. Sansa being his meant that he was a true part of father’s family, not a boy born so far from the North, he should not have even been called “Snow”, not the boy who could not call Lady Catelyn, “mother”. If Sansa had been his sister, he would have been allowed to hold her hands the way Robb held hers as they walked around the castle’s premises.

Jon remembered being a broken hearted little boy who could only quietly trail behind Robb and Sansa, he could make the best flower crowns but it did not matter, Sansa only wore the ones Robb made, he had stronger legs than Robb and could easily carry Sansa on his back whenever they played deep into the forest and she got tired of walking back home, but she only sleepily snuggled into Robb’s back as they emerged from the trees.

Jon had always kept his distance. He felt it was what Lady Catelyn wanted and expected of him and Jon did everything to avoid slighting his father’s lady wife. In the end, he had to give up whatever affection he had felt towards his sister. He was not allowed to love her the way Robb did and it was the first time Jon truly felt that he was a bastard son.

Years passed and he and Sansa had grown up distant towards each other. They did not fight (as he and Robb sometimes did) but they did not spend time together either (as he and Arya and Bran and Rickon always did). She was never mean or cruel to him and he never cared for any of her girlish dreams and sorrows. Arya complained about it all the time though, so Jon was always aware of how Sansa would grow despondent every time she wasn’t able to sew something delicate and beautiful. Jon knew she fancied some Night’s Watch ranger, Arya thought at least that was an improvement from being fond of dead knights in silly songs. When King Robert arrived in Winterfell, Arya had gritted her teeth, savagely rolled her eyes at the very idea of wanting to be married to the idiot-looking, pale faced Prince of Nothing.

“Seven Kingdoms,” Jon had corrected her and Arya spat at the ground, looking extremely proud of herself as she looked down at her work. “And don’t ever do that in front of your Lady Mother.”

“Sansa is an idiot. I wish she’d stop being so foolish and annoying and that she wasn’t my sister at all!”

“You can’t mean that.” Jon had murmured gently, ruffling Arya’s hair, but deep down, Jon had wanted to tell her that he wished differently and that if he had the chance, he wanted nothing more than to be Sansa’s brother, to be allowed to feel indignant at their father’s choice for her betrothed, because surely their father did not think that Baratheon boy deserved Sansa? But he could not voice this out loud. He was meant to blend into the background, huddled in the dark corners of Winterfell, away from Sansa’s radiance.

 ***

Two days before they were set to leave Winterfell, Jon had packed his few belongings; he was headed to The Wall with his Uncle Benjen. He felt utterly torn about it: on one hand, it was something that he felt he needed to do, to forge his own path. There was nothing that was for him in Winterfell, it all belonged to Robb and though he did not begrudge Robb of that, he was saddened by the fact that he had to leave everything behind so that he could be a man that his father would be proud to have. It wasn't a difficult choice, really. It was, after all, a Stark that had had built The Wall and for thousands of years the Starks had supported and respected The Wall and those who had bravely chosen a life of Night's Watch. The Wall was part of the Stark’s legacy. Being sworn into the Brotherhood that protected the realm was something noble and at the very least, Jon hoped, would be filled with adventure.

If he stayed in Winterfell, he would be nothing but a bastard for all his life. At The Wall though, he could be more than just Ned Stark’s bastard son. He wasn't quite sure what he'd be able achieve, but he vowed he will never go back to Winterfell without accomplishing something significant. Maybe becoming the youngest ranger ever in history of The Wall, or something far greater than that. Jon day dreamed of coming back to Winterfell and being welcomed with cheers, affectionate hugs and even the proud hard thumping on his back or chest. A part of him wanted to come back here as an equal to Robb when he becomes the Lord of Winterfell. Did that make him seem petty and jealous? He didn't think so. But he still felt slightly guilty for wanting more and then angry for feeling like that he didn't deserve it, just because his mother was some unnamed woman that Lord Eddard Stark had not married. 

Jon had been filled with conflicting thoughts that he had failed to realize that he was not alone and that he was almost upon Sansa, who was kneeling beneath the weir tree, her long auburn hair brushing the fallen autumn leaves on the ground. She had her forehead pressed against the tree and Jon almost turned away, intending to let her have her privacy as she prayed to the old gods, when Sansa very slowly brought her hand to her eyes and Jon saw the tears shining on her face.

He swallowed hard. She had looked radiant at the feast; he could still see her smiling face as she sat at the dais, but the afternoon sun did wonderful things to her and radiant seemed like a sorry, inadequate way to describe her. There was a coppery shine to hair that made her look warm and something inside Jon’s chest painfully clenches.  Before he knew it, he had taken a step towards Sansa, gently calling out her name.

She looked up, startled, her watery blue eyes brimming with tears. “Sansa, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?’” Jon watched as Sansa shook her head, sniffed daintily, wiping the tears from her trembling chin. She looked so incredibly vulnerable, Jon felt his hands clenching into tight fits. “Did someone--” Jon stopped, dropped to his knees so he could inspect her for any wounds.  When it was apparent that she was uninjured, he looked back up to her, surprised to see her looking so intently at him. Jon immediately realized that this was the closest he had even been to her an as he tried to read her face, he noticed the dark curl of Sansa’s eyelashes, the small barely-there flecks of grey in her irises. He was suddenly breathless and unsure of what to say next. “Please tell me you aren’t hurt.”

“I- I’m fine, Jon. I’m not… It’s not like that.” She stammered prettily, a faint pink flush blooming from her cheeks.

“Would you like me to call Robb?” He asked. She would probably be more comfortable talking to him and Jon felt he’d be more comfortable too if he could escape her sad soft sighs as she shook her head and shifted away from the tree, sitting down on the ground as she very gingerly smoothed out her gowns.

“No. I—Robb would not be very helpful right now,” and before Jon could open his mouth, Sansa gave him the smallest of grins, “and definitely not Arya.”

Jon had to fight back the smirk threatening to spill from his lips. He was going to suggest Arya, but now that he had thought about it, it seemed incredibly silly of him. “Is there anyone you would like me to fetch for you? Or would you rather be alone? Do you want me to go? I didn’t mean to intrude or…”

“Stop, please. It’s fine. I just…” Sansa looked down at her clasped hands, as though trying to organize her thoughts. Finally she looked back up at him and slightly tilted her head, “you’re leaving Winterfell, too. To The Wall, with Uncle Benjen.”

“Aye, I am.” Arya or Robb had probably told her. She had never really shown any interest in him and this was quite new. Unexpected but not unwelcome. 

“Aren’t you scared?” Sansa asked, her blue eyes widening. “I – we have never been so far from Winterfell, and now all of a sudden we’re leaving and sometimes I… I can’t wait to go, I want to see the South and the King’s Landing and the Lords and the Ladies and Knights...”

“From the songs?” Jon asked, startled at his sudden boldness, at how easy it seemed to talk to her. He hadn’t tried and now he thought he had been both a coward and an idiot for misjudging Sansa. Because of course, it would be easy to talk to her. Just because Lady Catleyn looked down at him, didn’t mean Sansa would do the same. He was sorry to realize the time had had wasted being quiet and sullen, trying to avoid Sansa.

Sansa snorted and even her snort seemed so lady-like. So queenly. “Yes, from the silly songs.”

“They’re not all that silly. You like those songs; it’s alright to like them.” Jon felt Sansa thought that he would be like Arya and that he would make fun of her and her tenderness and her girlishness. He didn’t want her to suddenly leave, at least not without telling him what was bothering her. “I am scared.” He said finally when it looked like Sansa was not going to say anything else. “I’m scared I won’t be good enough at The Wall and it would shame father.”

Sansa looked away, suddenly shy. “You’re better at Robb in fighting.” It was a mumbled praise, but a praise nonetheless and Jon liked hearing her praise him, even when she quickly amended that Robb was better at swordfight and Theon with arrows. “You’ll never shame, father.”

Jon was sitting too close to her and he could see the edges of her sleeves fluttering at she trembled, trying to fight off her tears. “Not like me…”

“Sansa,” he couldn’t help it. He didn't want to see anyone upset. Girls most especially. They all seem so impossibly fragile and Sansa wasn't just any girl. She was his half-sister and if Robb wasn't around to comfort her, Jon was more than willing to do so. Strangely, it all was seemed so natural for him. He reached out to very quickly, but gently brush her knuckles, getting her attention but not enough to scare her away. “Why would you think that?”

Robb and Sansa spent most of their days being trained and groomed. Robb was to be the next Lord of Winterfell and Sansa’s future as a Lady of a great house by way of marriage was already certain. No doubt, their father and the King had spoken about joining their houses, why else should the king bring his whole family to Winterfell? It was never implicitly said, but everyone knew that Sansa would not be marrying some Northern Lord or minor Lord from the South. She was born to become a Queen. Sometimes, Jon would secretly watch her as she followed Lady Catleyn around the castle, gracefully waking behind Lady Stark, meek and demure when there were Lords and knights around; charming and sweet to the wives and children of the Northern Lords. Sansa always stood with her back straight, the elegant line of her neck accentuated by the stubborn lift of her chin every time she and Arya argued. Sometimes Jon would forget that she was just but a girl of eleven.  Of course, she still had childish whims, as Arya would often grumble about it, but the same could be said of Robb and him and even Arya too.

Sansa shook her head, nervously wringing her hands on her lap. “I know I have done everything mother and the septa’s have taught me. I can sing and dance and sew and write poetry... but I… what if… what if the prince isn’t pleased with me? What if they make father return to Winterfell because I… because I’m not as lovely as the other Southern ladies who…who… knows things that I don’t!”

Jon could feel his muscles tensing. “What do you mean? What sort of things?” He narrowed his eyes, feeling strangely protective and angry. “Did anyone tell you… did Joffrey…” that little prick. If he had said and or did something inappropriate with Sansa, he was going to tell Robb and they’re going to beat the shit out of him. He didn’t care if he was a prince.  

Sansa was shaking her head, “No. It’s…Joffrey didn’t…but what if he… what if he tried to…to-”

“To what?” Jon asked, unable to hide the snarl in his voice. “If he tried anything, I can teach you to punch him or something…” Jon voice faltered and slowly faded at the horrified look Sansa gave him. “You don’t want to hit him, of course.” Jon was dismayed. He would’ve loved giving Sansa lessons on how to inflict pain on anyone who would try to steal her innocence away.

“What? Jon! No!" Sansa looked utterly scandalized, "Why would I – don’t ever say something like that out loud, ever again!” She cautiously looked around them, suddenly fearful.

“Well, if he was forcing you to do anything that you don’t want to do, I don’t see why you can’t hit him.”

“Shush! I wasn’t… what I mean was,” Sansa looked at him exasperated, before closing her eyes and with a sigh and through gritted teeth mumbled something incoherent.

“Kick him?” Jon asked, confused.

“No! Gods! Kiss him! I said what if he tried to kiss me and I don’t know how?”

Jon felt his stomach squeezing painfully at the thought. “Do you… do you want to kiss him?” There was a mildly horrified tone in his voice and he watched as Sansa winced.

“I don’t know. I mean, I… what should I do? How… how do I kiss someone?”

And now Jon understood why Robb would not be the best person for Sansa to talk about this. Robb would probably have wrapped his fist around Joffrey’s neck by now. Arya would be in tears laughing and teasing Sansa and Theon will be… well, Theon, would probably volunteer to practice with… Jon gulped. Was that? Did Sansa want? – something inside Jon stopped functioning altogether and he couldn’t form a coherent thought because he was suddenly aware of inappropriately close he was sitting next to Sansa – his half-sister, for fuck’s sake! ­­ - and that if he took a deep breath (which he did) he could smell her clean, citrus-y scent.

Nothing in the castle smelled quite like her.

And yet, she really seemed deeply troubled by this fear and he wanted nothing more than to reassure that this wasn’t something she was supposed to be afraid of. But for her to kiss Joffrey – or any other man for that matter – how could Jon be certain that they would be kind and gentle with her, that they will not make her feel uncomfortable, or worst, hurt her?

“Have you—I mean, with…anyone?” Sansa’s brows were scrunched up as she struggled for words. She shifted her position, making small nervous gestures with her hands.

Jon felt his whole face heating up. “What? No. I haven’t. I mean… no.” He stated it as firmly as he could, wondering why exactly, but he just wanted it to be clear that he had never kissed anyone as well. And it shouldn’t worry Sansa. It would – it should not be that hard. Just lips against lips. There was nothing to worry about it.

“But how?” Sansa practically wailed and Jon wanted to shush her just as she had earlier.

There has to be a reason why he had found her and not Father or Lady Catelyn or Robb or Arya or thank the gods, Theon. There were more than a hundred people in the castle right now and yet here he was and he was Sansa and all Jon could think of was that he would be gentle with her. And it wouldn’t be like an actual kiss, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to kiss her. Not…really.

Heart hammering inside his chest, blood pulsing inside his head, Jon very slowly took Sansa’s hand, giving her enough time to tell him no, to stop him, to snatch her hand back from him. She did none of those, instead she looked up at him, her blue eyes, bright and shining and when Jon shifted closer, her irises darkened. Jon swallowed hard. “Gently,” he answered, “he shouldn’t rush you or make you feel scared or when he sees you trembling, he’d squeeze your hands to let you know that you can always change your mind and not want to kiss him…”

Jon watched as Sansa nodded her head, her tongue suddenly darting out to wet her lips and Jon thought he might go to hell for this because now – now – he wanted to kiss her.

“And if I don’t change my mind?” Sansa’s voice had become softer, barely a whisper.

Jon suddenly found himself almost panting, unable to properly breathe. He felt like a steel band had wrapped around his heart, slowly tightening as he leaned ever closer. Mirroring Sansa’s action, he licked his parched lips, scrapping his teeth as his tongue retreated. He watched fascinated as Sansa's eyes followed the movement of his mouth. “He would keep his eyes opened, looking at how beautiful you are and how wonderful the light from the sunset makes your hair glow like rich copper and he would want to touch you but he wouldn’t because it’s your first time and he wouldn’t want to scare you off, so instead he would reach out to touch the ends of your hair...your hair is so soft…”

Jon had inched closer and now, if he dipped his head, he could easily capture Sansa’s lips. He wasn’t aware of anything anymore. It was just him and her and the sound of their mingled breathing. If he did this…it would not change anything. She would still head south, be married to a Lord or maybe yes, a prince and he would ride north, swear his oath and he would only have this memory of her and of this sudden inexplicable madness.

Would that be so bad?

“Sansa…I…” Jon closed his eyes and he could feel Sansa trembling and he knew she could also feel his hand shaking. 

“Jon…” There was something about the way Sansa said his name: a gentleness that he had never heard before, it surprised him, it made him want to hear it said that way again. Over and over and over and maybe it was the knowledge that this would be the first and last time for him that made finally close the distance between them and it was just Sansa’s lips now and her sweet sigh of surprise and Jon would have pressed harder, would have lifted his hand to cup her face…but he was his father’s son and honor was so deeply ingrained within him that he pulled back.

The kiss didn’t last a whole second. It could not have.

But still, when he opened his eyes, Sansa was staring at him, her face so filled with tenderness it made everything inside of him ache but in a lovely bitter-sweet kind. “Like that,” he finally said, his voice sounding deep and so very solemn.

Sansa nodded her  head, the faint flush coloring her cheeks made her look lovelier and Jon was both thankful and regretful that this would be his last memory of Sansa. He was about to say something, to ease the tension that he felt would surely creep up on them, when Sansa suddenly lunged herself at him, hugging him tight. She thanked him, told him to please, please, take care of yourself and then softly, lips moving against his cheeks: “goodbye, Jon.”

Before he could say anything, Sansa scrambled up and ran towards Winterfell, leaving him with her warmth and her scent the memory of their kiss.

End note:  Ok. I don't know how that went from the first part to the second part. I feel like there's a disconnect somehow? Ugh. Please let me know what you guys think. The flashback part was a bit... weird. It feels weird to me. I don't know why though. Ugh!! I think I might go back to this and do some changes. But yes, thank you for reading!

[tiny-little-bird]

Jon "sweet" Snow

We all know that, Jon, is a sweet ball of fluff. So I’m just sitting here wondering, if he’s soooo in love with Miss D., where the hell is the sweetness and the tenderness he’s shown Sansa for the past 2 seasons? Where is the sweetness and tenderness and closeness with Miss D.?

NOWHERE to be bloody seen.

All of Sansa’s and Jon’s scenes, some of them even when they’re apart, had romantic tropes in them, all of them, so if Miss D. and Jon are supposed to be this big romance, where the hell are the romantic tropes, did they happen off screen, or something? 🤷‍♀️😂

They could've had Jon compliment Miss D’s dress, since she changed outfits pretty much every episode, but nope, they could’ve showed him jealous of Jorah, and possessive towards Miss D., but nope they didn’t, he didn't laugh with Miss D., not even ONCE, he’s not triggered and is totally unbothered by Miss D. hugging Jorah, same thing when Jorah kissing her hands, like he is bothered by every man who mentions Sansa, they don’t even need to touch her, just say her name, and he goes in angry kitten mode, but for Miss D. who he is supposedly MADLY in love with, NOTHING. They could’ve had Miss D. give him/offer him a lighter cloak, since his furr one, from Sansa, is clearly way too heavy for Dragonstone, they could've shown him ditching Sansa’s cloak for the one Miss D. had given him but nope, they could've brought Miss D. up, in the conversation between Jon and Jorah in the wight hunt, but NOPE.

So many missed opportunities, I wonder why 🤔🙃

I asked a friend who doesn't ship neither Jonsa nor J*nerys, and they said this:

 “The way they shot Jon’s and Sansa’s scenes, the sweet moments, the dialogue, the awkwardness between them, I can see why you ship them, I must admit they are, really cute together. (He ships Arya with Gendry and Brienne and Jaimie, thos are his only ships on GoT, the other ships are just meh to him 🙈🤷‍♀️😂)

Jon and Miss D. on the other hand? Dragonstone has been boring af, the scenes between J and D were pretty bland and dull, if you ask me. IF, I had to choose between the two ships, I’d definitely choose Jonsa, because the dynamic between them is amazing, they have a strong foundation, they have a strong bond, and they are happy around eachother, whilst Jon looked miserable in Dragonstone, and around Dany, who kept shoving “Bend the knee” down his throat at any chance, and he couldn't wait to leave in episode 5.

Their scenes were boring and just, off, if they meant to show them fall in love, they failed miserably, they did such a great job with Jon abd Sansa, and I don't even know if they mean to have them end up together, but Jon and Miss D. as a couple, have no depth at all, because the communication, at least to me seemed one sided. They should’ve shot their scenes, the same way they shot Jon’s and Sansa’s, had they done that, they might've convinced me, because I’m just not feeling it, at all. I still don’t ship neither, but yeah, Jonsa would be my choice, Jon and Miss D. feel way too forced, sudden and way too rushed, on Jon’s part at least, and that’s all I have to say about this.” 

100% agree with what he said. 👌🙃

Below I'll list a few quotes and a few scenes, which should not have been in the show, if D&D meant to make us believe their relationship was platonic, and was meant to stay that way.

“New dress? [...] Yeah, it’s... I like the wolf bit” 

“I will never let him TOUCH you again, I’ll protect you, I promise.” 

“If I fall don’t bring me back.” (couldnt find a gif for this one sorry) which translates to, she's the one who gave me purpose again, she's the one I'm fighting for, I don't want to come back into a world, where she is gone, where she killed herself, because I couldn't keep her safe, because I lost, because I failed her. Let me stay dead, I couldn't live with myself. 😢 And if, that, is not REAL, powerful LOVE, then I don’t know what is.

More under the cut. ☺️✌️💙

I also don’t think we’ve see Jon laugh and smile in 5 seasons, as much as we've seen him smile and laugh, in 2 seasons with, Sansa. 

I mean, look:

Look at this little smol, look at how happy he is for his new Stark cloak, that Sansa made for him, with love, and with her own, lovely hands. ☺️ so Basically Sansa cloaked him

And Jon cloaked her, in his old cloak, I mean, they're practically married 🤗😂😂

Do you know who Jon also smiled like this with? Mhm, yep, Ygritte. 🤗

“Do you think I’m Joffrey?”

“Until I return, the North my heart is yours.” Most poetic declaration of trust, and love, I’ve ever heard in my life.

“I love Sansa, as I loved her mother”

*literally snarls and growls like a wolf* “TOUCH my sister, and I'll kill you myself.” 

Like DAMN that’s pretty wild, it’s literally what a male alpha would do, to mark his territory, if you ask me.

Look at him:

“What you did for HER, is the only reason I’m not killing you.” *aggressively grabs Theon*

“Does she miss me terribly?” *cricket sounds* *death stare*

Where is that with Miss D.? Where are all these romantic tropes? Where are the scenes where they both open up to each other, where they share their hardships, where they bond? WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE?

When does Jon smile again, after leaving Sansa, and Winterfell? 

With Tyrion, when he arrives in Dragonstone, and when does it do it again? With Tormund & co., after, he’s left Dragonstone.

With Miss D.? Nope, nothing, nada. 

But when do we see just a tiny glimpse, but like a tiny, tiny glimpse of Jon’s sweetness towards Miss D., and all of a sudden, might I add? In 7.06, which was such an odd and weird contrast to how he was behaving towards her just an episode earlier, not even turning to look at her one last time, like, again, he did it with Sansa, if he's sooo in love with Miss D. why not turn and wave goodbye to her too? Jorah turned instead lmao 😂 

So y'all mean to tell me that Jon did a 360° turn, in one episode? Please. 😂

So why the sudden change? 

Well, Jon, bless his heart, saw Viserion die, the moment he sank into the lake, Jon knew, he knew the NK would turn him, just like he turns his horses, just like he turned that Polar bear, so he knows without her dragons, they’re fucked, they’re all fucked, because he saw first hand what her dragons can do, and therefore realizes what an ice dragon can do. You know, for one thing, fly, and second spit blue fire, which according to their legends, is even hotter than normal dragonfire..how nice, right? The Night King has a dragon, that’s the last thing they needed. 

He could have an army of 1.000.000 people, and it would be useless against an ice dragon. He’s kissing her ass in 7.06, and the ass kissing will continue in 7.07, and I assume, partly, even in S8, he has to kiss her ass, because he needs her dragons. 

Do you really think Jon would fall/be in love with someone who can’t get her priorities straight? Who is so power hungry, selfish, and entitled, that she puts the Iron Throne before an army of bloody dead men, white walkers and the Night King? “Do you expect me to just leave my conquering of the 7K behind me, to fight the dead?” emh, yeah? idk if you got the memo, but they’re coming to kill us all, you included? Viserion is dead because of her, the Night King now has a dragon, because of her. 

Had she not been so stubborn, the NK would not have a dragon. “No, as soon as I leave, Cercei comes in.”, let her come in, who tf cares, the dead are coming for the North, for the South, for me, for you, for all of us, and the thing you put first, your priority is that damned throne? “I care about the people” she says, she cares about “the people” my ass, she’s a hypocrite, and Jon knows it, she literally confirmed it to him, in 7.05. 

He’s not in love with her, nor will he ever be, he’s playing the game, he’s working as double agent, again, and doing what he thinks is best, he’s doing what needs to be done to save his people and those he loves, he’s doing it to save the world. 

He saw on the beach in Dragonstone, that she listened to him, partly tho, she still went on a barbeque spree, but she “somewhat” listened to him, so here, I think he realized that to, her, his opinion matteres, that he has/could’ve some power over her, that he could use to his advantage. Now, think if he managed to make her fall for him. 

Jon is not stupid, at all, making her fall for him, might not be the honorable thing to do, but it’s the right thing to do for his people, for Sansa, for Arya, for Bran, and for the rest of westeros, he’s basically saving everyone’s asses. But, especially, to protect those dear to him, he’s willing to play dirty, and he will do it, he is doing it. D*ny is in love with him, at this point, that’s obvious, but Jon? Jon isn’t. 

As so many have pointed out, he has kept himself at a distance, Dany has told him things about her, since day one, she opened up to him, but Jon? He hasn’t opened up with her about anything, about himself, about Sansa, about his death, about why he was killed, about who did it, about the dagger to the heart, about Ghost, and that’s because he does not trust her, he’s weary of her, he knows she’s dangerous, he’s seen her in full tantrum mode, and he’s seen she’s very, very impulsive and hotheaded. 

In his eyes, their only chance, is for him to have influence over her, to be sure she will fight with them, no matter what, to ensure that, when the Northerners don’t kneel, because he bloody well knows they won’t, “the Northerners are proud” – Sansa, she doesn’t barbecue them all, she doesn’t kill Sansa, who the Northerners might make their Queen, after word spreads that Jon bent the knee. 

The thought of Sansa, his sister, the woman who gave him purpose again, the Little Bear (Lyanna), who literally made him King, Arya who is his beloved little sister, which he thought dead, and thst he missed so very much, and Bran who is his beloved little brother who he also thought was dead and he missed very much, being burnt alive for not kneeling, terrifies the hell out of him, obviously, and at the same time makes him determined to do what has to be done. 

We’ve all seen that Miss D., can, be merciful, but, only, if she cares about the person, only if it serves her and her “purpose. People who mean nothing to her? They can burn, usually no trial is even needed, ya know? She’s tyrannical like that. lol 

So yeah, his plan has logic, if they refuse to bend the knee, and she’s in love with him, and he has power over her, to control her and manipulate her, for the greater good, if he pleads for their lives, she won’t burn them, kill them, because that would hurt Jon. 

That’s his plan, and it’s a smart one, dangerous, but smart. Our Jonny boy, is finally starting to listen to the advice Sansa gave him, “you need to be smarter than father” he’s leaving his honor behind and doing not the honorable thing but the smart thing, the thing that will keep his people alive, “you need to be smarter than Robb” he’s not falling in love with Miss D, but instead, unlike his father and his brother, he is doing what has to be done, he won’t repeat his father’s, and brother’s mistakes, he has played dirty before, he’s going to have to do it again. 

Jon poured his soul to Sansa, told her he died, how he died, who did it, what he’s been through, everything, and Sansa did the same, told him everything that happened to her, what ramsay did to her. While with Dany he tells her nothing about him, he is weary of her, and keeps her at a distance. 

So yeah, in conclusion, our sweet, tender boy, hasn’t displayed any sweetness and tenderness towards Miss D., until he realized, “The Night King has a dragon now, fuck. We’re fucked, without her dragons, we’re truly fucked and stand no chance.”, and even then, you can’t compare it to how sweet, tender (and mild lol sorry, I had to 😂😂), and gentle Jon is towards Sansa, because what he’s pulling with Miss D., is an act.

The differences in tone, the conversations, sweetness, touches, lingering looks, between Jon and Sansa and Jon and Miss. D., are so blatantly different/obvious, it’s crazy, mostly because they're pretty much nonexistent between Jon and Miss D. 🙃

At this point, J*nerys is canon, yes, and they will get their b*atbang/sex, but will they ever get the pure, sweet scenes/moments of genuine love, like the ones that we have between Jon and Sansa? No, they won’t, so they can keep and enjoy their boatbang, we’ll have the real deal in S8. ✌️

#JonsaIsComing 💙

Jonsa GIFs bonus round 🙃✌️💙

I obviously could add more GIFs, there are plenty more, but this post is ridiculously long already, so I'll stop here. 😚✌️💙

[dachi-chan25]

If Jon is not playing Dany's pasty-white ass, then I'm just going to accept that he's a stupid dude with an unhealthy attraction to crazy, creepy, and psychotic women (Ygritte, Melisandre, and Dany). NO TASTE! LMAO

Anoooony, you are so right.But my hopes that Jon is playing Dorito hasn’t faded at all, It’s all in the subtext of their relationship (or lack of) even in 7x07:

-Dragonpit scene actually made me snort a lot, because isn’t this completely OOC for Jon “there is only one war that matters Snow to refuse to be neutral? He hasn’t bent the knee (“I would bend the knee but–”)not really, you know in the same way that Arya ‘who longed for her family ’ Stark was OOC threatening Sansa and shit when it was a ploy to kill LF. I meaaaan the idea of going to Cersei in the first place was to appease Danita, cuz she cared more about the throne that the WW, if she didn’t then why was this meeting necessary at all? To increase their numbers? Well yes, but Cersei’s army is not that big anymore thanks to someone *side eyeing D Tapioca* and Tyrion most of all knows they can’t trust Cersei (dude he has been outplayed by her this whole season) and so does Jon (or he should) he was warned by Sansa, for me it’s clear he is playing his Northern Fool persona this hard because Cersei? She is not really necessary, sure is nice to have more people but at the end of the day D keeps being the ally he absolutely *needs* to secure and you saw her face when he said the bullshit? She was orgasming right there (cool for her cuz boatfuck seemed boring af)

-That talk about the Dragonpit, and how the Targaryens stopped being speshul snowflakes without Dragons (god the anti-d@enerys people have been saying this all the time and It’s nice to get confirmation from the D herself) and omg how awful is to be like everyone else (yikes) duuuude cry me a fucking river! Her family was a clusterfuck that brought doom and lots of conflict to Westeros, she is delusional and an hypocrite, she also chained and kept her dragons under a fucking pyramid because it was the responsible thing to do after one of them actually killed someone cuz their tamer wasn’t shit. And Jon? He would never admire nor care for someone so entitled, he was raised by Ned Stark ffs! his deadass response was ‘you aren’t like everyone’ talk about being vague af (they’ll come to see you for what you are’) yeah good you say that Jonny boy but if Imma buy a romance you got to tell me/her Why? What is it that sets her apart from everyone in your mind? Cuz otherwise she is just filling the blanks in her self-important mind and oh! Would you look at that? It almost make sense.

-The baby talk reafirmed the one-sided nature of this relationship, D once again opens up and talks about a very sad and traumatic moment in her life and Jon?? He is not sympathetic, he doesn’t say he is sorry about it, he just straight up says a half assed 'maybe the witch was lying?’ and keeps being closed-off about himself.

-The meeting in DS, D is the worst ruler again when she listens the advice of the guy she wants to fuck instead of the man who went through hell and back with her, a man who has shared everything he is/has done with her, and who has proved his loyalty (and kinda creepy love obsession) to her. Rather listen to the dude she just met that Tyrion Lannister who straight up risked his life to get Cersei to agree to stop hostilities with them after the lil’ stunt said random dude pulled. And I am not surprised, lots of people in Meeren told her to re-open the fighting pits (that really is a complicated issue in itself) cuz they were an important tradition people liked but she listened until Daario (her boy toy) told her to, if anything Jon is playing her in the best way. kudos!

-the sex. I wasn’t dreading the scene so much as the wank that was sure to follow, and tbh I kinda wanted it to be hot (hey if I was gonna watch such stupid, fake tension set up for Targbowl it better be super hot) K1t and €milita are very attractive but dude, what a fucking let down! I was straight up laughing, I am mostly a functional adult involved in sex-ed and proud member of the bdsm comunity of Mexico City, I don’t laugh at sex, last time I laughed at sex was when reading the 50sog first sex scene (and if you’ve read it you’ll know why, also I was 15 at the time). Okay so, I am an actress I have done sex scenes in theater mostly, if this was got’s epic romance and J0n was really conflicted about the depth of his feelings vs. Duty to the North he wouldn’t be the one initiating it point blank, there would have been a set up (Missandei and Greyworm anyone?), a conversation, sexy undressing some kind of foreplay! Cunnilinguis! If this fandom agrees in something is in Jon Snow being the God of Oral Sex, yet we get 20 seconds of missionary possition humping? In a season that had not one but two oral sex scenes? Something smells rotten in this (the red herring) and don’t even get me started in the voice over or the wierd ass focus on Tyrion.

Now onto Jon’s past tyrst/love interests? He didn’t have much option with them did he?

I mean I really liked Ygritte (much more in the books that the show because this friggin show never portrayed the soft side that made Jon really fall for her in the books) but Jon was playing her in the beginnig, he literally had to fuck her or die, he was a horny self-repressed boy that ended up catching feelings, and let’s be honest she also warmed him up and made him understand the wildlings which was huge for Jon’s development, but at the end he chose his duty, honor and vows.

Melissandre, she can’t even be considered as a tyrst or love interest, she was feeling him up and undressed for him (de to her creepy ass sex magic) and Jon rejected her, oh yes he was tempted (Carice Van Houten is hot af and he hadn’t had sex in a long time) but he still said no and held his ground, duuuude he didn’t fuck her or show any interest after she brought him back from death)

So we have stablished a very clear pattern of Jon being true to his love for the North, even if he has to decieve, do less that honorable stuff and yes forfeit love for it. Plus all the warnings, literal textual evidence of Jon not making the same mistakes as the honorable man he admired and came before him.

But Then again this is just my opinion. Hope this cheered you up and help you keep faith on Jon.

[kittensjonsa]

Mr and Mrs ( Room Service part 2)

For Valentine’s Day 6: Pretend relationship. This is a continuation from Day 2: Sharing a bed fic - Room Service as requested by @sagittariaschik (I tagged you if that’s okay) 😀 Thank you so much for your likes and reblogs, it humbles me so much that such awesome writers such as you lot Jonsa cruisers, actually read the bad-grammary crappy cheesy stuff I write! I’m such trash for Jonsa and I just want to give a shout out to @jonxsansafanfiction for starting this Valentine’s theme and allowing my imagination to run wild with Jonsa. I hope you all enjoyed reading them as much as I had fun writing them! Thank you once again and Kudos to all of you for all your awesome fics!

******************

Sansa rubbed her sleepy eyes and squinted when she saw it was already bright and sunny. Her ears detected a faint thumping and it barely registered to Sansa till she laid her head back down again, that it was someone’s warm and firm chest grazing her cheek. Sansa sat up and wondered if she was dreaming. She reached out to grab her phone and checked the time. It was seven and somehow Sansa remembered there was somewhere she had to go.

The wedding, she finally realised and scrambled out of bed, pulling the covers down with her. Jon sat up startled and bare chested. Sansa didn’t recall Jon being half naked in bed with her when she had invited him to sleep beside her. She looked down and sighed with relief when she saw herself still fully dressed. Sansa couldn’t remember the conversation they had last night, all she knew was they were both tired from the drive to the motel.

“Jon we’re going to be late for the wedding! Wake up!”

Jon reached out for his phone on his nightstand and seeing the time, he too leapt out of bed. Sansa had the shower turned on when she heard the door open slightly and the toilet seat move. Sansa peered from behind the curtain and was horrified to see Jon standing over the toilet bowl. While she was in the shower.

“Oh my God Jon! Boundaries! What the hell?” Sansa screamed at him, suddenly feeling exposed.

“I’m sorry I had to go Sans! I couldn’t wait for you! It’s too bloody cold,” Jon explained sheepishly, his back still turned to her. Sansa glared at him and gave up in the end. She needed to get ready quickly or they’ll miss the entire wedding. It was still a two hour drive to the farm.

“Well quickly get out then. I’ll finish up in ten minutes and I’ve already packed last night. Get the car ready why don’t you?” Sansa suggested, finishing up her shower and waited for Jon to leave. She heard him grunt his agreement and closed the door behind him.

Sansa put on her coat and scarf while she waited for Jon to finish his turn in the bathroom. He was right it was indeed freezing. It was no wonder both of them reached out for each other’s warmth during the night. Sansa recalled how hot his skin felt against hers. It felt nice and a familiar tingle found its way deep within her. Sansa brushed it off, dismissing it as just another one of those days. I need to get laid, she thought to herself, sighing.

“All right, all right, stop sighing, I’m done. The bags are all packed in the trunk and we’re good to go if you’re ready.”

Jon held the door open for her as they exited their room and checked out. Sansa walked over to the vending machine and grabbed some snacks for both her and Jon for the drive ahead. She didn’t remember if she had checked for a diner stop along the way but figured since it was a short drive, they could do with some light sustenance.

“Cheetos for breakfast, yum,” Jon griped sarcastically when Sansa dropped the packs in front of them as they got in the car.

“Well, don’t be picky. It’s either that or a dried up chocolate bar, which I’m sure had been there since the 1970s,” Sansa retorted. The car started without much trouble despite the ice weather. Sansa sighed with relief when they finally got on the road heading towards Winterton Farm. The drive was fairly silent, both Sansa and Jon weren’t really morning people.

“I have you to thank for a restful sleep last night. Thanks for letting me sleep with you.” Jon started but then paused when he realised it wasn’t what he meant.

“I mean sleep on the bed. I wasn’t thinking of sleeping with you.. I mean of course nothing wrong with you, I-”

“Jon, stop talking. God, it’s too early for this. Now I know why you’ve haven’t had a date in years,” Sansa groaned. Sansa fully knew what he meant, she just wished he didn’t thank her every day for it.

“Ouch.” Jon feigned a sob, although his ego felt a slight sting from her words. He accepted that he wasn’t as charming as her brother Robb or smooth as Theon but he wasn’t completely clueless when it came to women. He needed advice that much he knew, from whom though, he didn’t know.

“I’m sorry, that was a low blow. I shouldn’t have said that.” Sansa regretted the moment the words left her lips. She wasn’t a very good conversationalist at 8 in the morning. Plus, she was also hungry. Not a good combination.

“Well, there must be some truth in there somewhere so I appreciate the honesty. But umm.. Do I sound that bad?”

Sansa turned from the window and looked at Jon, whose eyes were focused on the road. Maybe this trip with Jon was something more. Not just a short trip to the beautiful North in winter, not just a wedding of friends, perhaps to catch up and spend time with bumbling and socially awkward Jon. He needed company, female company after Ygritte.

He’s lonely, Sansa figured. That was probably why he had asked her to be his date for the wedding in the first place. It was easier than scoring an actual date with someone new. Sansa said yes the moment she heard the wedding was going to be held at the famously elegant locale of Winterton Farm. She had always wondered how the farmhouse and boutique hotel was like, if it really was the stuff of magazines. To her, it was just another road trip and a short getaway from the hustle and bustle of Winterfell. She didn’t think of it as anything more.

“You were rambling, Jon. It’s not a good look if you want to show a girl you’re confident.”

Jon chuckled. He found it amusing that he was asking Sansa for dating advice. Maybe it might just work, since the ladies know other ladies best.

“Right so tell me how I should speak then, if I want a girl to go out with me?”

Sansa rolled her eyes at Jon’s mocking tone. Why men ask other men for dating advice, and then wonder why they failed at relationships, was a mystery to her.

“You want me to give you dating advice? So you can try it on the single ladies you’ll meet at the wedding? Typical.”

“Well, you did say I make a good cuddling partner right, so maybe I’m looking for one right now.”

Sansa had to laugh at the reference. It all came back to her now, the hilarious conversation they had before both of them drifted off to sleep. Jon grinned when he heard Sansa’s giggle. The morning tension has eased up somehow now.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll give advice that makes most sense seeing that you too are a woman. And you would know how other women think. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Sansa frowned, trying to think what would make sense to someone like Jon.

“Just be yourself.”

“You see, easier said than done. And that’s what they always tell you though. Doesn’t always work.”

“Be yourself, yourself. Not the macho Jon Targaryen, not the broody bad boy Jon, just you. You, right now. You’re fine like this.”

“You mean be myself, myself like how I am around you?”

Jon paused for a thought as he let the revelation of his words run through him. He never realised how easy it was to be himself around Sansa. Not just because they were cousins but there was something about her that put him at ease.

“Yeah, like how you are around me or like, you know, my family. My parents adore you so I guess nothing wrong with you. But then again they like and welcome everyone.”

“Gee Sansa thanks. I adore your mom and dad too by the way. And my parents love all of you Stark kids, always going on and on about you and Robb, Arya blah blah,” Jon rebutted.

“I know. We Stark kids are a great bunch. But Jon, why can’t you be yourself around these women? You’re single, you love your job, you practically worship the women you date so what’s stopping you?”

It was Jon’s turn to glance at Sansa, who was now scrutinising him. He turned back to the road quickly, her intense ocean blue eyes causing a little involuntary stirring in him.

“Not sure. Maybe they don’t like the real me. It’s strange that you do.”

Sansa huffed in disapproval and was now certain Jon desperately needed an overhaul in the romance department if he was ever going to be a partner for someone. It was a cry for help.

“OK what about this.. Why don’t you do it on me? Pretend that I’m a girl you want to date, what would you say to me or do with me on our dates?”

Jon’s eyebrows went up in surprise, he didn’t think the conversation was going to veer in this direction. He was even more stunned that it was Sansa herself who suggested.

“What? No I couldn’t. I mean it would be weird.. okay maybe a little but not that you’re-”

“See you’re doing it again. Stop rambling and just talk to me like how you would talk to a someone you’d fancy,” Sansa stopped him before he could continue. Jon inhaled and took a moment to think as he drove straight on the road.

“Okay. Okay. So you’re going to pretend to be my date, a girl I’m going out with and all that?”

“Yes, just pretend that I’m her. Besides I’m already your date for the wedding so you can practice on me. Come on, just do it, we don’t want to keep you away from the actual dates you might score after the wedding. Wow, imagine.. Jon Targaryen, the next Bachelor,” Sansa teased. She liked seeing Jon blush and smile. He looked so laid back and mellow whenever he did.

Jon paused before he could answer and looked down the road and made a right turn. He peered out his window to look for a road sign, suddenly remembering how Sam had told him to look out for one and found a large sign pointing towards the farm.

“Well, that would have to wait because it would seem we have arrived.”

Sansa couldn’t help but gawk in awe and wonder at the sprawling estate that housed the famous farmhouse and the rustic charming boutique hotel a short distance away. In the winter, flanked by the snow dusted lanes and fields, it looked better than it had in the magazines. Sam and Gilly were extremely fortunate in getting a date for their nuptials and reception to be held here.

Jon grabbed their bags from the trunk and was greeted by a smiling valet who led them into the hotel to check in. Jon looked at his watch, it was almost 9.30 am. Jon was glad he made it in time.

“Jon! There you are!” Jon turned to the familiar voice that called out his name. Sam reached out to hug him and Sansa, his face beaming with joy. Jon couldn’t be happier for him.

“Was the drive okay? Sorry but it wasn’t actually 2 hours away, it was much shorter apparently. So you guys must be hungry! Go get checked in and I’ll get you both some food.”

Sansa could kiss Sam as he said those words like a dream. Just two days ago, she was tired and sore from sitting in the car for ten hours and now that she was here, she was so hungry she could eat a horse. Some getaway.

“Oh hey Jon, thought I should tell you.. The hotel is fully booked for today and I’m running around like a madman and I had last minute guests flying in last night so I kind of had to give away a room and now we’re short of one. I was thinking, could you and Sansa double up? I’m sorry to do this to you but you’re my best buddy, I’m sure you’d understand,” Sam rambled apologetically, his words hard and fast like a bullet train. It was obvious Sam was under duress.

All Jon could do was laugh, it was just funny to him now. First the motel and now Winterton Farm. It was just ironic. Sansa wandered over to the both of them seeing how wonderful it was to see Jon and Sam together again.

“But it’s a really nice room, a suite actually and it’s one on my floor.”

“Let me guess, it’s the largest one too?” Jon wondered.

“Sure thing, there are only three suites on my floor so yeah, one of the largest ones I guess. How do you know that?” Sam looked at him puzzled by his question.

“Never mind, another story for another day. But now let’s get you married, brother!” Jon brushed it off and gave Sam on pat his shoulder.

Sam waved his goodbyes and scrambled away, leaving Jon and Sansa at the reception counter to check in. Jon gave his details to the staff at the desk and turned to Sansa who was admiring the hotel’s interiors.

“Hey Sans, wanna hear something funny? We got a suite.”

Sansa was puzzled. What was so funny about a suite, she wondered. She loved to stay in a suite in a pretty hotel such as this. Jon explained to her what Sam had told him and watched her face as her mouth crinkled slightly as if in deep thought.

“Might be funny to you but what can we about it? Plus, it’s a freaking suite, Jon! I would sleep in the bath tub even if that was the only room available. This place is amazing. I’ve always wanted to come here,” Sansa waved her hand to show Jon the elegant and stylish lobby they were standing in.

“So you don’t mind? I mean I think they have a sofa bed I can lay on.” Jon asked, although he was secretly hoping Sansa didn’t mind him sharing the bed again. He had to admit, having someone in his arms felt wonderful. He loved the feel of soft silky tresses splayed on his bare chest. The rhythmic breathing and pulse thrumming on his skin. He didn’t mind having that again. Plus the atmosphere and ambience surrounding them was just the right kind of romantic. He only wished he didn’t have to pretend.

“So, your room is on the Swan Suites floor. This is your room number and we’ll have your bags sent right up. Mr Tarly had already ordered some food for you and it will be ready in about 15 minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr and Mrs Targaryen?” the gentleman smiled as he handed Jon and Sansa their key cards. Jon almost raised his finger to correct him when he felt an arm loop around his elbow.

“Oh maybe a bottle of champagne if you can. And no that will be all. By the way, you have a lovely hotel, it’s beautiful,” Sansa interjected sweetly before Jon could say anything.

“Thank you Mrs Targaryen, I hope you and Mr Targaryen will enjoy your stay here. We look forward to seeing you later at the ceremony. If there’s anything else, do give us a call. In the meantime, Paul here will show you to your suite,” the man nodded politely and Jon and Sansa followed Paul, walking behind him. Jon noticed her hands were still on his arm.

“Umm.. Sansa. What are you doing?”

“Shh, don’t ruin it. Just play along. Besides, we’re pretending remember?”

[dcbicki]

“and where do i go?” For Jonsa 😊

Okay, so, fluff is not my forte; never has been. But I do try, and I think this just about borders that fine line between subtle angst and romance. Also, I’m super sorry it took so long to get this out. It takes me ages to write prompts. I do think I went a little overboard with the request itself though because this is basically a oneshot revolving around a proper storyline instead of just a small prompt fulfilment. I do that, though; write too much and regret sharing too many details. But then I also love my writing and my knack for detailed descriptions and accounts. So… Yeah, I’ll stop talking now. Anyway, enjoy, and please let me know what you think! (PS: And request anything anytime and I will try my best to get around to it because I love writing for you guys and myself!)

- - - -

It seems like forever ago that they learned of Robb’s engagement.

He’d called Sansa late on a Saturday night, when she was feeding her dog Lady after just getting getting home from work at the store.

He’d been loud and boisterous, and she could just about make out the sound of Talisa’s voice piping up in the background.

“We’re engaged! She said yes, San!”

She was happy for her brother, truly.

After losing their parents in that awful accident years ago, he’d been the one to take care of everyone. Her big brother became her guardian, almost a replacement father of sorts.

Granted, he was only three years her senior and just as young at heart when he wanted to be - the cheerful phone call at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night a clear sign of this - but he’d taken on a lot of responsibility.

He deserved nice things, good things, and Talisa was just that. She was beautiful and witty and one hell of a surgeon. How Robb had met her and they’d started going out, Sansa had no clue.

But it didn’t matter. He was happy, and he deserved to be, and she was glad of it.

The same couldn’t be said for herself though.

No. Though she’d dated a few guys here and there - including a few assholes who verged much too close to abusive in college - there was never anybody who had managed to really tug at her heart and rip it from her chest.

Strong analogy, sure, but she was a passionate person. And if nobody could make her want to fall to pieces from crippling love and devastatingly tender touches, then they weren’t right for her. She knows her worth, knows what she wants and what she deserves.

That isn’t to say she hasn’t tried to find someone worthy of her heart and affections. She’s tried, almost succeeded a couple of times in the past. But this time, with this guy - who adorably calls her My Lady when he dotes upon her, and once (unsuccessfully) attempted to bake a lemon drizzle cake for her birthday because everybody else had forgotten - she may have gotten it right.

The only problem was that he was pretty unwilling to come clean about their relationship, and let it known to family and friends and foes alike that they were in fact of couple.

It wouldn’t have taken much, Sansa reckoned. He could have just sent a quick text to Robb, or hell even coughed up to Arya on their weekly get-togethers down at the shooting range.

But oh, no. No, Jon wasn’t sure how they’d react, and therefore refrained from even trying to tell them at all.

I’ve been dating your sister for seven months and we’re planning on moving in together in the new year but I’ve been too much of a coward to tell you. Really sorry about that. Cheers for the pint, though.

She’s had a good mind to do it herself sometimes, but he’s resolute that one day he’ll tell Robb. The conversation always ends the same way though; she tells him to grow some balls, he laughs it off, and they ignore the topic until it’s brought up again.

Only this time, Sansa is fed up with waiting.

It’s Robb’s rehearsal dinner, and she’s sat alone at the bar because the meal was rather bland and she needs something tasty.

The glass almost shatters in her hand when he approaches her, stood at her side with one hand in a back pocket of his trousers and the other sliding along the cool bar in front of them.

His thumb taps along her knuckles and Sansa pulls herself away, carefully holding onto her glass.

She’s pissed - as in angry, not drunk - and he knows it.

“My brother is getting married tomorrow and I don’t have a date. Or, rather I do have a date, but he doesn’t want to admit that he is my date. Or, maybe I’m his date and he just wants to deny that instead.”

She tilts her head, sips a little bit more of her drink and then sighs aloud. Scratching at tangled red hair at the base of her neck - tangled from sweat, sweaty from exhaustion because she’s been on her feet all day - Sansa licks her lips and finally shoots him a glance.

“Do you really think now is the best time?”

Jon’s eyes are dark, deeper than their regular shade of brown she knows so well and loves so much. His voice is hoarse, and she knows he’s had more than a little bit of whiskey poured down it.

“No.” She nods once, frowns as she does it. “I think the best time was about three months ago, when he asked who were bringing to his wedding and you shrugged. I think that might have been a pretty good time to tell him that you had a girlfriend he already knows and loves.”

“That’s the point, Sansa.” He doesn’t sit, doesn’t pull out the vacant bar stool next to her and plonk his backside down to talk this out.

He just stands, and clasps both hands in front of him. His watch is shiny - it’s expensive and a secret gift she bought him for his thirtieth birthday, though he’d fibbed when asked and said a distant uncle gifted it.

He’d returned the gesture with a daintily elegant pair of emerald green earrings for her birthday, and she’d lied to Arya when asked and told her sister that an elderly client handed them down to her as present for her kindness.

“He knows you, and he loves you, and he’s your brother.” He frowns now, all moody and brooding, soft brows knitting.

“And you’re his best friend.”

“And I’m his best friend, and I’ve known you all for a solid fifteen years now. Look, it isn’t that I don’t wanna tell him. I do.” He’s sure of his words, or at least he sounds it. He’s all Northern accent and quiet determination. “I want to tell him. But we’ve known each other since we were fourteen, Sansa. That’s half my life. Telling him I’ve been shacking up with his little sister isn’t going to go down well.”

“Is that what we’re doing, then, shacking up?” Her brows raise, and her teeth chew at the insides of her cheeks for a moment, “Here I was thinking you loved me and wanted to prove it. Well, bugger me.”

“Sansa.”

“Do you want me to tell him? Seems I’ve got bigger metaphorical balls than you’ve got real ones.”

She downs the rest of her drink at that, and stands up on shaky legs. She isn’t drunk, not even tipsy. But she’s been sat for a while after not being sat all day, and she’s uneven.

He holds her upright, one hand on her arm, gentle and reassuring.

“What exactly would you like me to tell him, tell them?” He nods his head towards her family, Robb by the large window with his fiancée at his side, he and Sansa’s siblings bickering in the corner over something silly.

“Tell him the truth. Tell him what you told me. Tell him that you drove me home after work one day because I felt like shit, and we ordered fish and chips and mushy peas, and I asked you to never leave. Tell him that you promised me you’d stay and you did and I kissed you. Tell him that was seven months ago and you haven’t doubted your decision for a single day.”

“Just like that?”

Maybe she got through to him. Maybe suggesting that she take the reigns and do it herself forced him into action.

“Just like th-”

“What are you two whispering about?”

Robb is beside them, leaning over the bar to retrieve a fresh bottle of wine. It’s unopened and heavy, but he’s smiling over at them as he strains to reach it.

It’s only when he stands straight and looks back and forth between them expectantly that Sansa finally registers his question.

But before she or Jon can answer him, Talisa is stepping into place beside her groom and smoothing her hand down his chest.

“I spoke to the boys. Bran says he’s fine sitting by the window table. If he gets bored, he can just stare out at the trees, apparently. Rickon doesn’t care, I don’t think.” She smiles, brown hair swinging as Robb pulls her closer.

“Window table?”

Talisa’s eyes widen at the realisation, “Oh, yes. We’ve had to change a few things at the last minute. Your aunt Lysa changed her mind and she’s decided to come after all.”

Robb shrugs, adds, “I think she has a new husband she wants to show off or something.” He rolls his eyes, swings the wine bottle in his fist. “You guys have been moved, too, San. Hope you don’t mind.”

He looks at Jon then, who only nods and glances across at the redhead.

“Yes, Arya’s going over to the second table, with your uncle Benjen and the like. I tried to get her onto the girls’ table but she said, and I quote, ”‘I am not going there!’.“ Talisa holds up a finger pointedly to copy Arya.

Sansa blinks, swallows a breath behind a smile with a brow in curiosity, “And where do I go?”

“Where do we go?”

It’s half-statement, half-question, and there’s a smile dancing along Sansa’s lips as she turns her neck to face Jon.

She reaches for him, grabs his hand and places it on her hip, urging him forward. This is us, and we are a we.

They have to come clean eventually.

There’s a strange look on Robb’s face, somewhere between confusion and disturbance, but Sansa only grins and grips Jon’s hand tighter.

“Where do we go?”