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Jon & Sansa; a marriage in moments. 

Alayne Stone / Princess Sansa Stark (2/?)

Uh.. hi! It has been a strong two months since I very brazenly announced my plan to draw every female ASOIAF character. Well, I never said I’d do it QUICKLY. Life happens! I won’t go into detail. So here is Alayne/Sansa. I also drew her in her Sansa era but it was kind of giving depression vibes so I probably won’t post it. Plus I don’t want to commit to having people appear twice in this series– it would make the Arya situation a nightmare. Anyway. I appreciate all the lovely asks I’ve gotten about characters and YES I WILL DO THEM though I might be 93 by the time I finish. See you in 2023

She would rather die than ask Jon, of all people, for help. The history between them is gnarled, knotted, dangerous.

But Sansa thinks she knows something about the nuns that keep going missing in Boston, and she knows no one else will believe her.

Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament.

“Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.)

And then Sansa does something very, very foolish.

She says a name.

“The Duke of Dragonstone!”

Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.

Drops this absolutely out of nowhere 💀…

JONSAWARRIORS — MINI EVENT: a celebration of all things jonsa!

hi, everyone! to celebrate our three month anniversary, we’re hosting a mini event to all jonsa creators! the event will be all type of fanworks inclusive so your creation can relate to any type of media you enjoy.

WHEN: 25, 26 and 27 of April 2022.

the prompts are listed on the banner and below. you can follow them as strictly or as loosely as you want!

day one ⁕ weapon - wit - wonder

day two ⁕ bastard - beauty - beast

day three ⁕ snow - stone - stark

please remember to tag us when you post so we can see your creations! if you post a fic on ao3 you can add it to our collection called “jonsawarriors mini event” 😌

Took a while, but the seventh chapter of Sansa the Vampire Slayer is on AO3 now (also just a little picset for fun)!

Preview:

“You’re trying to woo me, Jon Snow?” Sansa said, suddenly feeling almost shy. How absurd that was, when they’d known each other for so long. When they’d kissed like that.

Jon sighed. “I’m trying to, you impossible girl,” he said with affectionate exasperation.

“I’m impossible now?” Sansa asked. Internally though, her head was practically spinning. Arya and her mother were aware of Jon’s feelings? And why did no one feel fit to tell Sansa anything?

“Have been for most of your life, I’d wager,” Jon muttered.

Sansa huffed indignantly. “Well maybe you’d like to find a less impossible girl,” she said, not really meaning it.

“A girl who’s not you? Not interested.” Jon said, bringing an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35296678/chapters/94559605

Sansa Stark Week — Day 5: Favorite Scene

A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

She scooped up a handful of snow and squeezed it between her fingers. Heavy and wet, the snow packed easily. Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even …