I can’t stop writing about you nor do I want to stop writing about you for it’s my way of keeping you real, of making you real, of convincing myself there is something and everything between us past, present, future, morning kisses, noontime giggles, evening fire and whispers in the after hours fueling my desire to keep you, begging the universe to pick up on my ramblings and turn my words turn to stardust so they could reach you in your sleep and when you wake up you will feel a familiar caress upon your cheek and maybe know that it is me thinking of you from another lifetime, wishing, willing that our souls would somehow meet… again.
—  286. Imprint, @september-stardust
Sometimes I think about how Sansa thinks that she’s the least loved, and it just makes me want to cry a river.

It makes me so sad, because:

Jon has feelings for her (she doesn’t know this though, yet.), so his love for her is just as strong as his love for Arya, only it’s a different kind of love. I mean he went to war for her, because of her, and when she told him she’d kill herself if Ramsay won (and thus Jon died), he went to Melisandre a d told her not to bring him back should he “fall”, because he could not bare to live without Sansa (Romeo and Juliet anybody?). I mean, if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

Arya also loves her, it was made pretty clear at the end of S7, when she tells Sansa “I could’ve never survived what you survived”, which goes to show us that Arya has put aside her differences with Sansa, and has grown to trust her, understand her, love her (she always loved her, but their bond is much stronger now) and respect her, and her skills, and same thing goes for Sansa.

But thing is, in her mind, Sansa thinks it’s that way. 

Now, D&D made sure she mentioned Jon (in the crypts) & Arya (with Littlefinger). These two quotes were, in my opinion, included as a kind of setup for Sansa’s plot in Season 8, they wouldn’t bother to have Sansa mention that she thinks Jon loves Arya more than he does her and Arya loves Jon more than she does her, for no reason, they needed the GA to know. 

They wanted to establish that Arya and Jon always had a really strong sibling bond (as if we didn’t know already), that they were very close as children, which along with Sansa and Jon never having shared a scene together, and her line from S6, “I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything., give the audience this piece of information about Sansa and Jon never having had such a bond, never having been close, thus also subtly hinting at Jonsa.

“And I love this relationship that developed over last season and continues into this with Jon and Sansa. The fun thing to explore there, was the idea of two siblings that… they weren’t close as siblings. They weren’t close when they were kids. They had no real relationship. They…Sansa didn’t particularly like Jon. They had nothing to say to each other. They had no way to relate to each other, but they… they have, you know, they come from the same family and, you know… they didn’t even have a scene together in the pilot. I don’t think they’d even performed together until they were reunited last season.” — Bryan Cogman

Maybe this is what Sophie is talking about when she says that Sansa might feel a bit lost in S8 (Now that she’s run out of people to manipulate, I wonder if she feels a little bit lost!” — Sophie Turner), Just like Jon, she also has strong feelings for him, she loves him, so between thinking Arya is Jon’s favourite, that he loves her more than her, and Dandelion being there in Winterfell, and Sansa believing Jon’s is in love with her (even if he isn’t), in S8 she might feel set aside, lonely, lost, frustrated, even a bit jealous, and with this we go back to Sansa desiring, craving something she’s always wanted more than anything, love

“What about happy? Why aren’t you happy? What do you want, that you do not have? (love)” — Littlefinger - Do I need to add that there is flirting (Tormund/Brienne) happening in the background while this scene is happening? And Sansa is looking straight at Brienne and Tormund while Littlefinger is asking her all these questions about her happiness?? 

“You think he (Jon) wants to marry her?” — Sansa Stark - Sansa is visibly jealous here. 

“In his own horrible way, I believe he (Littlefinger) loved me.” — Sansa Stark - As I’ve said, season 7 made it pretty clear that she wants love, she wants to be loved. And why wouldn’t she? She’s been through so much, she deserves to be loved, truly and unconditionally for who she is and not for her claim and family name.

“This season (S8) is more a passionate fight for her than a political, manipulative kind of fight.” —Sophie Turner

I cannot wait until Sansa realizes Jon’s in love with her, I can’t wait until they both realize their love isn’t one sided, but that they both fell in love with one another. Jon ended up falling in love with the kind, beautiful, intelligent, strong and fierce woman that Sansa has become, and Sansa ended up falling in love with the gentle, brave, handsome and strong man that Jon has become.

#JonsaIsComing 💙


Jon almost lost his virginity to Ros, a redhead.

He then actually lost his virginity to Ygritte, a redhead.

And he was almost seduced by Melisandre, a redhead.

And now he goes around giving these looks to Sansa, a REDHEAD.

Can y'all smell it? Cause I sure as hell can smell the Jonsa Soup D&D have been cookin’ for 7 seasons.

concept: our first Christmas together. Waking up beside you and realising it’s Christmas morning, seeing your face when you open the presents I picked out for you, mistletoe kisses, cuddling up by the fire, wrapped in the fluffiest blanket we can find, having eaten far too much food. Dozing off on your shoulder, surrounded by the smell of pine needles and winter spices and home and you.


He had never seen how beautiful she was. Her legs were skinny but well muscled, the hair at the juncture of her thighs a brighter red than that on her head. ‘Does that make it even luckier?’. (…) “If you love me all so much, why are you still dressed?” she whispered. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. Noth—oh. Oh. OHHH.” ASoS (George R. R. Martin)

First Kisses

Their first kiss wasn’t spectacular. No one stood in the background, waiting to light off fireworks while hordes of people cheered and applauded. There was no performance at all, really.

The fact of the matter is that their first kiss was on a Tuesday night, and Draco was making Harry stay up with him to study for a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam they had the next morning. They were the only ones in the common room. But Harry looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Tuesday night anymore, it was actually Wednesday morning, and somehow during their studying they’d slumped over onto each other, eyelids weighed down with sleep. The fire had all but burned out, the glowing coals casting a dim orange light across the two boys on the overstuffed sofa…

It wasn’t spectacular. They just sort of… fell together, I suppose, melting into each other, and Harry wasn’t sure where his mouth ended and Draco’s began anymore. He kept falling. Harry hoped he’d never hit the ground.

Their first kiss was in the rain after Harry and Draco were both shit-faced drunk, stumbling out of the bar while still swaying in time to the pumping music inside. Harry’s glasses were askew, and his cheeks were flushed, and god, his pupils were so dilated… Draco had intended on mapping out every corner of Harry’s face so he could remember it later when he went home alone like usual, but when he straightened Harry’s glasses for him, his hands lingered against his cheeks, thumbs tracing Harry’s lips. Their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Harry’s breath against his mouth and when he finally closed the remaining space between them, Harry’s wand shot out sparks and singed Draco’s coat. If you weren’t looking closely as you walked past them in the dark, you’d think it was one cloaked figure, standing very still outside the crowded bar.

Draco didn’t go home alone ever again after that night.

Their first kiss was in the eighth-year common room, surrounded by friends who had all had far too much firewhiskey to drink. It was Harry’s turn, and his face was already beet red. He wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from what was about to happen, but he wasn’t sure that mattered right now. He spun the bottle as hard as it would go. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and the bottle just kept going… There was no way there wasn’t magic involved in how long it took it to stop spinning. Maybe he was so drunk, it had stopped spinning hours ago and he just hadn’t noticed.

The room went silent.

Harry was particularly aware of the fact that there was a floor beneath him, and something else underneath, and he felt entirely too heavy to hold up. He looked at who the bottle pointed towards and wished the floorboards would give way to send him plummeting into whatever room was beneath them.

And Ron was assuring him that no, if he really didn’t want to, he didn’t have to do it, but Pansy started chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and made everyone else join in. Hell, even Hermione was pumping her fists and chanting, and all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his head. He was most definitely a deep shade of scarlet now.

He looked up from his lap, though, and inches in front of him was the one person he never thought he’d touch in a way that wasn’t with malintent, and his eyes were already closed.

Draco tasted like peppermint and booze. The first time, at least.

Their first kiss was full of fire and anger and sweat, and they were seventeen. There was no one left in the showers after Slytherin lost another Quidditch match to Gryffindor, and Draco was convinced Harry had cheated. He’d almost had the snitch. He could have beat him for the first time in his life. Draco punched first, hitting the hard brick wall and bloodying his knuckles when Harry ducked out of the way. Harry’s face was covered in dirt and neither of them had much in the way of a hairstyle after playing out in a rainstorm for several hours. But Draco couldn’t think about Harry’s unkempt hair or muddy face right now, because somehow Harry had pinned him up against the wall, breathing hard and muttering something about how Draco should think very hard about what he did next…

Harry had hickeys landscaped across his chest for days.

Their first kiss was confusing for both of them. Of course Snape had paired them together for potions again, and Harry was prepared to sit back and let Draco do all the work again, but they were being watched so Draco thrust into Harry’s arms some things to chop up that had nothing to do with what they were brewing. Harry was getting a Dreadful in this class and he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish school if he flunked out.

“I’ll help you,” Draco mumbled, and Harry became aware that he had somehow managed to say all of this out loud.

“You’ll what?” asked Harry, dumbfounded.

“I said I’ll help you, you git,” Draco sneered, “McGonagall wants me to do something for the less fortunate because it might help me get a job when we get out of here.”

So Harry agreed, and for two hours on Saturday nights Harry and Draco had a scheduled slot of time to argue study. They’d never spent time alone together though, at least not for this long, and Harry began to notice little things about Draco. Like how when Draco was thinking hard about something, he flossed his hands through his hair, pulling it all off of his forehead and accentuating his widow’s peak. He looked like a blond vampire like that. It was a good look on him.

“What did you just say?” questioned Draco, one eyebrow raised. Harry had thought out loud again. Shit. He tried to think of something to cover up what he’d just said, but it was all out in the open now. He couldn’t backtrack on something like that. Draco looked beyond pleased with himself, and Harry felt his jaw clench. That git.

God, Draco got under his skin, but here, in the empty potions classroom, alone, he looked…


He got under his skin so much that skin was all Harry could think about now. Draco’s skin. It was softer than he’d ever imagined. And his lips were another story.

And that’s what I love about fanfiction. The fact that we can write into existence hundreds of first kisses, each one unique in it’s own way, but each one dripping with more magic than anything you can cast with your wand. Each one the jumping off point for an infinite universe of stories, love, heartbreak, and laughter. So here’s to beginnings. Here’s to more first kisses.

Thank you @parkkate for reminding me of the post I made a few months ago that fell along this line! I figured I’d have at it once again like I did with the other post I made yesterday since I don’t really remember anything I wrote last time! 

“I hope you realize, how special that makes you.”

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