Get Vaccinated So We Never Have To See CNN Talk About An Omega Variant

@cellsshapedlikestars basically all of your fics are my favourites❤❤ But I especially love the bachelor AUs, signs (it's sooo lovely) and loves's not a competition!

Reblog if you're a fanfic writer and you wanna know what your followers' favorite story of yours is ❤

if you’re still taking prompts……..i would love to see more regency au, like the first time they met/saw each other

It was Rhaenys who steered him over in the end with a long brown arm threaded through his, like a mother pulling her son by the ear. He told her he would approach her in his own time, but his sister would not hear of it. Jon tried to struggle without causing a scene, but it was all in vain, because as soon as they were in view, his old friend saw him almost immediately.

Then so did she.

“Dragonstone,” His voice carried.

At his side, Rhaenys beamed smugly. Oh, if she were a house cat she would have purred. And if they were still children, he most certainly would have tried to drown her.

“Winterfell,” He said back, swallowing down his nerves. The taste of contempt does not ease the way.

Robb Stark, the Marquess of Winterfell, approached him with the shade of a grin that used to get them into all sorts of trouble in their youth, accompanied by his party of three. He gave him a firm handshake, and a squeeze of his arm.

“Old friend,” He said, “But a stranger if I have ever seen one. Dukedom becomes you.”

They kept in touch after Oxford, through frequent letters and the occasional night out in the Ton when he visited during the season. But Jon loathed staying too close to home, every second that passed another where his father could sink his claws into him and conjure a reason for him to stay.

That was never Robb Stark. Eddard Stark died three years ago, but it did not take his passing for his son to come home and do his duty. Rhaegar Targaryen could not say the same.

It was why Jon loved him. It was why he envied him.

“The duke of Dragonstone, is it?” The older woman at his side broke in.

This, of course, could be no one other than the Marchioness—if her coloring did not give this away, her demeanor did, for he was now well acquainted with the behavior of pushy social climbing mamas.

It was unfortunate for her that he decided to dedicate the rest of his life to ignoring her daughter only a half a minute prior.

He refused to give Rhaenys the satisfaction.

“Forgive me. In my excitement, I forgot myself,” Winterfell said, though he did not look pleased to be interrupted. “Dragonstone, this is my mother, Lady Winterfell.”

“Your grace,” She curtsied minutely, graceful. Jon bowed his head.

“Our ward, Miss Poole,” Winterfell said, of the girl with the eyes of a young doe.

“Your Grace,” Her curtsy was more practiced, a bit grand. She immediately tucked her hands behind her afterward.

Winterfell gestured to the far left, “And my sister, Lady Sansa.”

Jon was left with no choice but to finally look at her.

Pearls scattered her hair like stars, gleaming pale against the autumnal fire. Thin tendrils cascaded from her chignon down her slender neck. Her gown was a shade of ivory adorned with tiny pink roses. She curtsied as gracefully as her mother, lashes lowered demurely, before she met his eyes. Summer blue.

“Your grace.” She said, voice a touch lower than he expected it to be. The voice of a woman,

She was even more striking up close.

Beside him, Rhaenys cleared her throat delicately.

Jon flushed, he hadn’t even bowed to her, he was so struck stupid, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He could feel a stammer on the tip of his tongue, so he had no choice but swallow and take more time.

“This is my sister,” Or, as he would have liked to call her in that moment, the bane of his damned existence. “Lady Highgarden.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” She said with a smile he was most certain had its root in his current discomfort, “You most of all, my lord. I have heard a great many of things.”

“I hope all of them were great,” Winterfell said with a laugh, but he was charmed, as most men were when it came to her.

Rhaenys chortled at that, “Oh, indeed.”

It should have been something that warmed his heart, his two of his favorite people in the entire world finally meeting and sharing a laugh, and perhaps it would have been if he had not made a complete bumbling fool of himself at his sister’s insistence just seconds before. He was already coming up with an excuse to leave, searching for Dany’s silver gold head in the crowd, anything to avoid those damn blue eyes, when his sister launches her scheme first.

“I was just telling my brother that I simply could not dance another step,” She shook her head, as if regretful, before she smiled once more. “Would you be so kind as to take my place, Lady Sansa?”

Jon nearly choked on his own dread and disbelief.

Miss Poole inhaled sharply, overjoyed, as if she’d been asked to dance herself and Lady Winterfell glowed with pride and Lady Sansa—

She blushed, and it was the sweetest thing he ever saw.

“Since when do you dance?” Winterfell demanded of him, no longer charmed, not having it in the slightest.

“She would be honored,” Lady Winterfell interjected before her son could object entirely. “Wouldn’t you, dearest?”

“I would, your Grace,” Lady Sansa said, still blushing.

Shyly, she met his eyes again, her gloved hand a tentative offering.

Winterfell stared, appalled, and Rhaenys stood beside him, self-congratulation rolling off of her in waves, and his heart pounded in chest so hard that he could taste it in his throat.

Her hand was small and soft in his, and he made a new promise then, to be gentle.

!!!

It’s because the only story left to tell is Jon coming to terms with his parentage and returning from beyond the wall to resettle the Gift, meanwhile Sansa had a baby with a mysterious bael the bard type figure. it’s not interesting enough to fill a full hbo season but it would make a great final chapter to a dream of spring just saying

I know everyone is on the pp train as they should but what’s happening with politician Jon? Anything worth sharing?

Calculated Risk

Pairing: Jon Snow x Sansa Stark

Rating: M for mature audiences

Word count: 521

Tags: politician Jon, journalist Sansa, established relationship

He is 33 years old and doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.

He is 33 years old and insurmountably aware of how pathetic it is that he doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.

However, no one can say that shame isn’t a legitimate motivator, because it keeps the tie on his neck as much as the drill sergeant beside him does.

“Stop scowling,” says Sansa, fingers pressing into the inside of his arm.

“I’m not scowling,” Jon mutters back, “This is just my face.”

She beams over her shoulder at the Hornwoods, holding up a single finger, before she turns back toward him. 

“Make it not your face,” She says, through shiny, straight teeth.

At the urge to pull at his tie, Jon takes a swig of too sweet champagne, swallowing the taste as well as the wince that follows. He craves beer. The cheap shitty kind that comes in a twelve pack and never fails to make him wish that he was dead the next morning.

“I’m starving,” He says under his breath. “You said there would be food here.”

“There is.” She turns around, plucking from a passing tray. She lifts a tiny little skewer to his mouth with glossy, manicured fingers, “Have a cucumber sandwich.”

“Real food,” Jon just barely gets out, before she takes the opportunity to pop the whole thing in his mouth. It’s cool, bland, and watery in his mouth. He’s about to tell her so when she raises a single eyebrow.

He finishes his food rather than talk and chew at the same time.

Sansa dabs at the corner of his mouth with her pretty little thumb, her approval as condescending as that of someone in possession of a newly house trained puppy.

As soon as they get home, he’s going to spank her. 

“This is my event,” He says now, irritable, “Shouldn’t I get to dictate what food we serve?”

“And what would you have everyone eating?” Her head tilts to the side, “Baby back ribs? Brisket? Philadelphia cheesesteaks?”

This time, he does scowl, a flush crawling up his neck.

“At least everyone would leave full.”

“You eat like a teenager. Smile.”

Before Jon can open his mouth to argue, she cuts him off with a smile of her own, white and blinding. 

“Smile. Or you’re not getting laid tonight.”

“Bet you I will,” he says, but through a baring of his teeth that feels a lot closer to a grimace than a smile.

Sansa ignores him.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it silly boy?” She kisses him on the lips lightly. “Keep smiling. Here comes Mr. Manderly. Don’t forget to ask him about his boats.”

She calls over to Mrs. Hornwood, who makes an exclamation of delight at the sight of her. She leaves him to the wolves—one huge, barrel chested congressman that goes by the last name Manderly in particular—without so much as a second glance. 

For the millionth time, he wonders why on earth he wants to marry her. But it won’t be long before she reminds him.

I absolutely adore The Mating Game! Can you please give us a clue or sneak peak at what we can expect next?

Jon makes a phone call, Sansa has a drink, and Margie goes shopping.

.

“It's for a good cause,” Sansa protests weakly, not really loving the look Margie is giving her.

Margie gives a suspicious hum, eyes narrowing. “And this good cause just so happens to come attached to an attractive man...”

“Is he?”

“All brooding, dark eyes and pouty lips...”

“I hadn't noticed,” Sansa tilts her chin up stubbornly, earning an eye roll in response.

“Oh please, even I noticed. And his arms-”

“That's not why I'm doing it!”

JONSA HALLOWEEN 2024

Hi Jonsa fam, this spooky season we are back to have some fun!  We will be hosting a four day Halloween event from 28th to 31st October.

This year we have included 3 prompts per day -

28th : Wolf - Curse - Crow

29th : Came back wrong! - Vampire - Autumn

30th : Magic - The Dreadful - Pumpkin

31st : Dragon - Trick or treat - Free Choice

👻You can interpret the prompts as strictly or as loosely as you want to. For eg. The prompt ‘wolf’ can be interpreted as direwolf, werewolf etc. You may even chose not to have any scary element in your entry!

👻 We will be tracking #jonsa halloween & #jonsa halloween 2024 tags for our event this year. So don’t forget to tag your post accordingly. You can also tags us @jonsa-halloween​ in your posts. 

👻 This event is inclusive of all types of fan creations like fanfics, edis, web weaving, gifsets, manips, fan video, meta etc.

👻 If you have any questions please send us asks. We would love to answer your queries!

👻 We will be accepting late entries till our Master list is posted.  So do not worry even if you miss out on posting your entry during the event days!

Note - In case we miss out on re-blogging your entries please do share with us link to your post.

Incorrect GoT Quotes - 12/?

Show!Jon Snow with (Jonsa) baby - requested by anon

So obsessed with the fact that Sansa looked at a direwolf, an untamed beast of legend capable of maiming and murder, and went “hmm needs a fancy little ribbon.” My darling child. My baby. You are so right.

will i ever find love 😔

That's like saying “will I find atoms” or wanting a blanket in a crowd of threads, stop looking!!! It's already everywhere around you, and even better you are a machine built to produce love! Pet cats, make tea, cry during sad movies! Stop waiting for someone else to make art for you when you already have a paintbrush!!!