Will I Ever Find Love 😔

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.

WIP | I’m not sure where I am going with this illustration yet but… here is the work in progress for now. Everything is jotted down even the ribbon in Sansa’s hand that she had giving to Lady. For anyone wondering, yes Sansa Stark is my favourite and I currently have a few other illustrations jotted down of her and ready to be worked on. The colours may change and the design may change, however for now this is what it looks like. Thank you so much for all the love and comments I have received on my other illustrations, I appreciate them greatly! 

hi!! :) i love all you fics i was re reading your princess diaries au and i was wondering if you had any plans on continuing? if you did i’d love to see the aftermath of jon missing his date with sansa and how upset arya is too! and the ball scene!! ily <3 :)

hi!!!!!!! this is really good timing asking this because i've actually been working on it a lot lately!!!! (@cellsshapedlikestars even helped me noodle my way through a part where i was stuck xoxoxoox)

i'm not sure if the next chapter will be the last or if i'll need to break it into two more (maybe a sansa pov??? not sure) but i've got at least one more jon bit coming that should cover at least some of that!!!

aaaaaand because i am so delighted to get a lil anon message about it, here is a sneak peek!!!!!

--

“What happened to my romantic little boy?” she tuts, and Jon drops his head back to groan at the ceiling. 

“Mom, I’m not a little boy anymore.”

“I know, I know,” she says, and when he glances over, she’s haphazardly folding all of his tees into a messy little pile. “You’re all grown up now and ready to lead some foreign country, but when I look at you, I still see that same little boy who swore up and down that he was going to have a foot-poppin’ first kiss.”

“Mom!” He can feel the way his face flames hot, flushed, even though there’s no one there to witness his embarrassment other than the woman dead set on causing it. He wonders if he could get away with pretending he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he’s pretty sure that wouldn’t stop her. 

“What?” she asks, mock innocent. “I’m not allowed to talk about what a sweet boy you were?”

“Can you just… not?” he begs again. “Please?”

The thing is, he does remember. They’d been watching some old movie, one of those black and white ones where everyone spoke in an inexplicable accent, and when the hero had grabbed his girl and kissed her, one of her feet had lifted off the ground as if it had a mind of its own. He’d been determined to have a first kiss equally as powerful, equally as passionate — and his mom had laughed. And then, when she’d seen how serious he was, how struck he was by her laughter when he was not joking, Mom, it’s not funny, she’d assured him that of course he would have a foot-popping first kiss one day. He guesses now that she already knew then not all princes were made out of fairytale stuff, but he’d been young and starry-eyed and determined to be different than his parents. And then he’d gotten older and reality had set in for him, too. 

“Besides,” he grumbles, “I already had my first kiss years ago, and Ygritte wasn’t exactly a ‘foot pop’ kind of girl.”

Oooh loove this😍

Askbox prompt: Jon/Sansa Jane Austen Au? Thank you lovely! :)

It’s a little more regency inspired by way of Georgette Heyer, but I hope it might serve ;)

*

“I don’t see what the fuss is about,” Arya complained, flinching away from the darling grey ribbon Sansa was tying into her hair. “It’s only Jon. You were positively awful to him before. I don’t see–”

“Only Jon is our cousin,” Sansa announced airily over her sister’s complaining, as though Arya did not know this. “Only Jon is finally home from the Continent and we ought to give him a proper welcome, wearing proper clothing and not the tattered rags you wear to ride Nymeria.” 

Jon’s visit was the first they would have visitors after their parents’ deaths, and though she had always found him dour and odious, and though she and Arya were still in the greys and lavenders of half-mourning, Sansa was determined to make the best of it. There were only a few months left before it was up to Aunt Lysa to launch her into the ton. If she could be gracious to her cousin Jon, then she could handle anything.

Sansa tugged helplessly at the bodice of Arya’s soft muslin morning dress. Arya was growing so fast, though, and she was already wearing one of Sansa’s spare gowns to accommodate her height.

“Jon isn’t going to care about any of this,” Arya complained again as she stomped down the stairs toward the drawing room where Jon was waiting for them. 

Sansa did not have the chance to argue with her. In fact, all her fantasies of testing her charms on their cousin with her performance on the pianoforte, or whiling away the time discussing Lord Byron’s poetry, were quickly dashed when they entered the drawing room. 

It turned out that Jon was not, in fact, the sullen cousin who spent his summer visits slouching around Winterfell. Instead, he was straight-backed as he examined the books shelved by the mantle and, when he turned to greet them, Sansa saw that he cut an excellent figure in his Hussar uniform. While Arya dashed forward to greet him, Sansa gripped the entry table with a flash of panic. 

“Captain Snow,” she said weakly as Jon bent to kiss her hand – not at all the sisterly kiss he had laid on Arya’s hair. “What a pleasure.”

Game of Thrones by Pablo Olivera

We Run the Gamut (Let's Run Away)

boy and girl meet. live parallel lives. and, one day, they start to come together. scenes inspired by all the different types of love for the @jonsa-valentine event 2024.

AGAPE

love for everyone

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

Jon looks up from where he's been sulking in the dark to see one of the Stark girls — the redheaded daughter — standing outside the front door to the guest house. She'd knocked once already, but Jon had ignored it, thinking whoever it was would just go away. Now, he can see she's still out there, silhouette illuminated at the top of the stairs. The porch light catches copper highlights in her hair and makes them glow.

He wonders if she's annoyed she has to knock instead of just letting herself in. Maybe she used to spend a lot of time in the apartment over the Starks' detached garage. Or maybe she never came out here. Maybe her bedroom in that fancy old house is already so big and private she never bothers to explore anywhere else.

"Hello?" she calls again. "Mrs. Snow?"

When Jon finally answers the door, flicking on the living room light as he goes, he sees that the girl — Sansa, he thinks — hasn't come empty-handed. In her arms is a ceramic dish full of some sort of baked good, little tarts or custards with cooked lemon slices on top.

read the rest on ao3

A 19th c. New York City Jon/Sansa drabble

angst, longing, complicated relationships

The announcement is made--Miss Sansa Stark's engagement to Willas Tyrell--at the party thrown precisely for the purpose of a grand announcement. Raise up the family in this trying time, brush all the unpleasantness under the imported rugs with music and food and the press of a crowd gathered to witness it.

Dany did say it would be an engagement. Swore to it twice as they rode down Fifth Avenue, carriage rocking. She sounded rather too pleased about the prospect when she usually has very little in the way of kindness for his cousin. Jon refused to believe it. Too old for her, Jon insisted, and he still thinks so, as he attempts to grit out a smile and his wife lifts her champagne.

"Raise your glass, Jon," she says, lips barely moving.

He does, but only to bring the crystal rim to his waiting lips. He won't toast the happy couple, nor will he do Dany's bidding. Not tonight. He's in no mood to be agreeable.

Dany does say he's taciturn and overly sensitive, so he might as well play the part the way her opera friends do nightly on a stage lit too bright.

"She's your cousin. Pretend to be pleased."

"I'm happy for her of course."

His hand flexes at his side.

Dany looks sidelong at him, pale brow arched. "Oh yes, very. Listen, try not to murder the man in front of this lot. They'll sue and I'm not sure your confidence would stand up to the task of self-representation."

Her dress is red. Blood red. Her favorite color. She never fades into the background. Not even among these people who whisper behind fans about her. Nor should she, and yet, her bold temperament is perhaps not as well suited to his as he once believed.

She'll insist he dances with her tonight, though he would prefer to hide in the palm room, nursing this damnable ache that's spreading through his chest. Just long enough so that he can pull himself together to congratulate Catelyn on the match. Or Bran if he isn't feeling up to facing the matriarch of the family.

"It's a shame she couldn't get what she wanted. I suppose that's a new sensation for her." Her head tilts, as the musicians begin to play. She brings the coupe to her mouth, covering it as she amends, "Who she wanted. But the Tyrells are climbing like roses, aren't they? She'll add a lovely old-world aura to all that vulgar American newness."

Sansa Stark is America, she's as American as they come, first family and all, but he understands the import. There is the New York of old and what's coming to sweep that all away in a cloud of coal dust.

"That mansion is a monstrosity."

Willas looks down at his bride to be as if she's made of moonlight, twinkling in the Stark ballroom that is half the size of the Tyrell one.

White. Virginal. Untouched.

Just last week Jon spread his fingers until they spanned her jaw and tipped her head back, so her perfectly pink lips parted like an opening bud before she fled from the glass gardens, trailing the smell of hot house gardenias.

Not unsurprising behavior from a bastard relation, even one who pretended to be decent.

His heart throbs.

If only it was just sin tucked in his breast. The right preacher could drive it out.

"I didn't know you had architectural opinions."

Yes, moonlight. Sansa Stark is a moonbeam captured in Willas Tyrell's open palm, as he tows her towards the dance floor where she and Jon have never publicly stepped out together.

He frowns down into his glass and grimaces against the burn of the bubbles as he swallows. "I don't."

"Perhaps they'll let her decorate it in her own style. There's endless money there." Her voice lilts, teasing, prodding at the wound. The right family was important once, now the right amount of money is the only thing that matters. "Or is it the family you object to? Such a snob for one born on the wrong side of the blanket, aren't you?"

"If Old Ned was alive--"

"Yes, he was very fond of you, I'm sure, but Catelyn Stark would have never, Jon. Never allowed it. You could be as rich as Croesus and she'd look down her nose at you. You know that. She's as provincial as they come. You too for some unknown reason."

She's only hissed out the assertion when Sansa's eyes meet his through a gap in the crowd. He might only imagine the fleeting swoop of unhappiness pulling at her features, the same thing he imagined on her pretty face when he returned from Vienna with Dany wrapped around his arm in a silk dress cut too low for Fifth Avenue society.

It seemed a fortuitous event when he met the beautiful widow with old family ties to New York, though Dany had never seen the city herself. There was a hint of scandal about her. But there was about him too, thanks to the circumstance of his birth and his newly acquired habit of staring rather too long at a girl meant for a grander gentleman than himself. What he wanted was outrageous in its presumption, and then the perfect solution to all his pitiful longing presented herself with almost silver hair and eyes like the lilacs that dripped before his mother's dressing window in the spring.

They were happy. But he missed New York. So they boarded a ship.

They ought not to have come here.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters, chest rising and falling inside his starched shirt, as he stares across the ballroom.

"Catelyn Stark despising you or you spending too much time with your dear little cousin? I can expand on both."

"No need," he says, as the gap closes and Sansa's watery gaze is blocked out by tuxedoed shoulders. "But you could lower your voice."

"You ought to be glad people like the Tyrells are rising in this world," she says without paying him any mind. "Catelyn Stark will never allow you to sit at the head of her table, but the new standard won't care about your birth or my two dead husbands."

Only one is dead, but Jon wouldn't think to correct her.

"The new way will only care about what's between your ears and in your pocketbook. I know there's some intelligence in there," she says as her finger trails the shawl collar of his jacket. "If you would only use it."

"I'm sorry my profession isn't impressive enough for you and your aspirations."

She'd like to conquer New York, his wife, though she has the wrong personal history and the wrong husband for it. She imagined she would shine here the way she did in Europe thanks to her beauty and boisterousness and willingness to make a bold bet.

She boldly bet on him too. Her worst gamble.

"Even in the law you could prosper more than you do," she insists still too loudly. It's a well-worn argument between them now. "If you'd make the right connections."

Not the kind of connections Ned Stark would approve. The people she wishes him to befriend hold no appeal.

"I'll do my best," he says, mostly to prevent any further upheaval.

Her cheeks already are starting to heat and Jaime Lannister has turned his eye on them, lip curling in amusement. It's the effect of too much champagne, too much dancing around the truth. And while he wouldn't mind calling for the carriage, making a scene at Sansa's engagement party is not at the top of his to-do list.

What he'd like is to go to her, and profess things he ought not to. He wishes he could sink down on his knees to beg forgiveness. Either for loving her when she is so above his notice or not confessing it before she was lost to him, bobbing away like foam on the sea. He'd beg with his fingers grasping the embroidered hem of her ballgown, wrap his hands around her delicate ankles, kiss up the side of her stockinged calf, and then peel the silk down until his heathen hands touched flesh. He wants her hands buried in his curls.

She would never.

He's mad. Like his grandfather, the one they committed to Bellevue.

Before his misstep last week, he'd never even touched her bare hand since she entered society.

"And there might be hope for us yet, you and me. With pretty little Sansa wed and times changing," she says, lifting her glass, "you might even say our marriage is saved."

Oh oh oh!! Another word: lady👀👀👀

Another good one! :) From Winter's Child:

Because Lady was collateral damage- an acceptable loss since she wasn’t bonded to her- Sansa’s curse was going to kill an innocent because Lady had never hurt anyone.

Thanks so much for the ask!

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

Sansa: I kissed Jon. Margaery: You kissed Jon? Sansa: In the elevator. Margaery: Why’d you kiss him in the elevator? Sansa: I was having a bad day. I am having a bad day. Margaery: This is what do you do on your bad days, make out with Dr. McBroody?

@jonxsansafanfiction remix free day meredith grey x derek shepherd (grey’s anatomy)