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#you! gotta! – @thelegendofclarke on Tumblr

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@thelegendofclarke / thelegendofclarke.tumblr.com

Mere. She/Her. Multifandom. House Stark Loyalist™. Salty winter adult and permanently exhausted pigeon. Known for my viciousness, continuous bullshit, two-faced fuckery, and desperation to maintain my BNF/Meta Queen status.
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Finally, after a year of languishing in a google doc, I finished this in time for it to exist for a glorious 3 weeks before GRRM and his henchmen joss it entirely.

This is a true example of writing the fic you want in the world–in other words, just give me some Sansa POV and slow healing and springtime metaphors and acknowledgment of Jon’s own PTSD and recovery, and of course massive doses of UST and bed-sharing and marriage of convenience. Plus some porn, because what’s fic without it.

Jon/Sansa, Explicit, 13000 words

In the dark and honest part of her that Sansa is no longer afraid of, she had thought that Jon would die, and she was no sadder than she was relieved. In the months that she ruled Winterfell while the great war of men and wights waged around them, she felt herself growing into her power, sinking her roots back deep into the Northern soil. She enjoyed it, ruling. She was good at it. And at night, she had a wide bed and a door that locked and she was never cold. If Jon died in the war, she would miss him like she missed Robb and Rickon and Bran. She wouldn’t miss her husband.
Seeing him now, she notes the absence of the relief and joy that marked her first glimpse of him at Castle Black. Instead, she feels a too-familiar grief: my brother is gone.
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