#and it hurt me a lot last year that you didn't acknowledge mile stones I reached all by myself you didn't see me as me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charmingpplincardigans · 1 year

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I keep thinking I need to write some words to round off the year and then immediately becoming exhausted. Not so much by the idea of taking stock, which I do all of the time in little ways, but by facing the person I want to be. The person I've failed to be.

Because, to be bluntly and perfectly honest, there have been several moments this past year when I have not been my best, when I've hurt people I love in ways that go beyond my aptitude for general carelessness. None of them premeditated or due to lack of caring of course, all of them because I was trying to handle things internally that I was not equipped to handle and didn't speak up about it to anyone who could help, so that even the help that was offered felt wrong, unhelpful, did not solve the internal turmoil that the other person could not know was there and therefore could not navigate any better than I was.

And I did a pretty bad job! As previously stated! I know I am not my mistakes. I know I have talked and will talk about these things and will work to continue to get through them if not fix them entirely, but it does feel slightly damning to write up a whole thing about how I'm constantly trying to be a better person without acknowledging that even so, sometimes I'm not a great person! It's probably the same for everyone, but I'd prefer not to have other people caught in my shrapnel, you know?

That said, this year has been a lot. We're closing out the third year of a pandemic and I continue to be surprised daily by the ways my own brain comes up with to compartmentalize and bargain with risk and reward. The way the fear has gone from a constant, droning, undeniable buzzing to a weak background whine that I sometimes don't think about or hear at all, even though it's there.

I think a lot about The Body Keeps the Score in general, but especially about how anxiety and stress take their toll on our physical selves, whether we want to acknowledge them as they're happening or not. Humans are resilient, but we are made of sand, not stone. Nothing leaves us unchanged. We have all been so changed these last several years in sweeping ways that we share and small ways that we might not even be able to understand within ourselves for years.

Who might we have been, if only we had had other unpredictable and overwhelming stressors instead. Quiet ones that no one else knew about. Fears without a community shorthand. Hopes without a common deficit, if there even are such things. I think a lot about a piece of paper art I made in 2020, of the echoes I knew even then would reverberate through everyone who survived. We are all still echoing, for better or worse.

But if anything about me is for the better, it's because of the people who love me. Who make art with me. Who let me yell at them about things I love. Who let me browbeat them into watching tv shows and reading books and share their excitement back. Who helped me move 1,200 miles to get back to this place that still feels like home, even as the place that was my first home will maybe never feel as far away as it is. Who will just be beside me when things are new and exciting and fun and when things are quiet and common and monotonous. Who adventure with me and laugh with me and make plans with me for the future, even though nothing is set in stone. Even though sand shifts. Even though people change. We can change together and it can and will be okay. Who foster hope with me and between us. Who know that hope is a living thing and it's us who keep it green.

I remain, as always, lucky to love the people I have and even luckier that some of them love me back. There are so many things I want to do. So many people I want to be. So many joys left to share. I started a new bullet journal. I think it's time to stop losing years. To stop merely existing in my various states of stress and letting it all pass me by without dipping my hands in. This time is precious, it's time to get back to treating it as such.

I don't know who I'll be by the time I make this post again in a year. I hope that things surprise me along the way. I hope I meet the intervening time with courage, curiosity, and joy. I hope to be more careful with my friends and myself. Above all I hope there is still love overflowing. It's the most important echo I can think of to leave behind.

#2022 #kl has stupid feelings #other things i think about all the time #include the leonard cohen line #there is a crack in everything that's how the light gets in #just you know #apropos of nothing

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jedimaster941 · 5 years

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A Declaration of Lost Independence

As we get older, as we live life, like stone eroding under the power of crashing waves, our bodies break down. And as our bodies break down, we become more and more unable to do things. Sometimes not to the standard we once did, and sometimes we lose the ability completely. We lose things that bring us joy, and we lose things that bring us to life. Whether it be slowly or quickly, we all lose our independence. Aging is something, like it or not, we have all signed up for. We will get older, our bodies will break down, and we will lose our overall independence. It’s not ideal, but we understand it to be true.

For Chronically ill people, however, we can lose our independence rather suddenly, and it has absolutely nothing to do with natural aging. If someone aged 78 years has trouble walking, getting dressed, or going to the bathroom, very few would question it. But imagine you are 28 years old and you have the same difficulties. Think of how you would feel. In this article I will discuss the ways in which people with chronic illness lose their independence in the areas of physical, mental, social, and dietary, and the toll it takes on us when the things that we should be able to do becomes out of reach.

*This post features responses from chronically ill patients whom I asked…*

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Physical

Loss of physical independence is the area that most people think about when illness takes over. It is at least the most public. People see wheelchairs, walkers, canes, crutches, and handicapped placards. They are also readily aware when someone takes a little longer to stand up, when they have trouble buttoning a shirt, or their handwriting becomes illegible. If someone gets to know a disabled person well enough they may also become aware of PIK lines, feeding tubes, and colostomy bags among others.

When someone is chronically ill/disabled their bodies are the primary victim of their disease. In one way or another, our bodies are malfunctioning. As my primary care physician said to me once, “We are all getting older, you're a just doing it a lot faster”. (If anyone is curious, I did not take offense, I appreciated that he acknowledged my illness and my lack of certain abilities)

Our independence is very much directly lost in these examples. We lose the ability of climb stairs, walk short distances, wash ourselves, cook food, and one I’d like to discuss a little more, exercise.

Doctors and online experts tell us we need to exercise. I can’t disagree with that. Exercise is important to keeping what we have left tip top. However, when we can’t climb stairs, walk short distances, or wash ourselves, how do you expect us to get the the gym to do some Cross Fit? I know for me, exercise of any kind hurts and has lasting effects. Some of my readers may remember how not long ago I walked a peppy poodle for half a mile and my legs hurt for three days after. This wasn't from being out of shape, this was due of my condition. Yes, exercise, but understand sometimes it's more harm than help.

I used to be a distance runner, a golfer, and could give the best piggy back rides. Now, due to Ankylosing Spondylitis, I can’t do any of that. And believe me when I tell you, that hurts me mentally as well.

Mental

With chronic illness and disability there comes a mental toll as well. Both in the areas of cognitive ability, and depression.

First, let's touch on cognitive ability which will then (as all of these sections do) we will move on to depression.

I imagine many of my readers are already well versed in the words and terminology used in the discussion of chronic illness. However, if you are new to this world, let me share a term that I, and all of us use probably on a daily basis: “Brain Fog”.

Brain Fog is exactly what it sounds like, a thick layer of fog on your brain. You know how hard it is to see through a covering of fog? Now, imagine that fog is in your head and your brain is trying to see thoughts, feelings, and ideas through it. It’s not easy and often things are lost.

Brain fog is caused by pain and the inability to actually shut down and rest. When people go to sleep their bodies and minds go into power saver mode to recharge, refresh, and do diagnostics checks. However, what happens when you drink caffeine, or you eat a big meal before bed? Well, if you can sleep, your body has now been given other things to work on. The caffeine makes your heart work harder, and your body needs to work to digest that big meal. So what happens? You don’t wake up rested because your body never actually got any rest. The same thing happens every night for people with chronic illness, but without the caffeine and steak dinner. In my case, with Ankylosing Spondylitis, my body is always working to fight off a foreign invader known as the lining between my joints. (I guess it’s actually a domestic invader) For most of us, because of constant pain, we can never get comfortable and even when we do sleep, we aren't actually resting. This lack of true sleep causes our brains to process at a diminished rate limiting our abilities to remember, problem solve, and function.

When I go to the doctor, I bring my wife. Not because I need a supportive hand, but because I need a partner and coach to help me tell the doctor what I need to say, and then remember what the doctor tells me. There have been times I have come home from an appointment solo and either forgot what treatment we discussed or, through my fogginess, made up something completely different because I could have sworn the doctor said she wanted to try bloodletting. (Or was it Methotrexate? I can’t remember) Although I love my wife, and I will always welcome her to join me at an appointment, I'm 37 years old, I shouldn't need someone to be my brain while the doctor checks out my body. While I am not depressed about this, this loss of mental and physical independence can also lead to depression.

I used to run, and I loved running. When my health got worse I took up walking long distance. However, only a few short years later, I couldn't even walk short distances without great pain and weakness. I was 34 the last time I walked with any kind of purpose. Far too young to lose so much ability. When I see people out running, or I drive past the local health club with overly large windows, I get sad longing for my glory days. When I watch American Ninja Warrior I’m sometimes heartbroken. Believe it or not, I used to be able to do stuff like that. It’s crushing to think that somebody actually has the freedom to wake up in the morning, pop up out of bed, and then think to themselves “Well, I think I will run 10 miles, shower, go to work, spend an hour at the gym, play with my kids, and then get 8 hours of restful sleep before doing it all over again.” Here I am thinking, “I hope I can get out of bed.”

Chronic illness can take a great toll on our mental state and subsequent independence.

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Diet

With the chronic illness life, more often than not it seems, comes a list of dietary restrictions. 90% (not actual figures) of life comes from our gut. What we eat and drink. Other than breathing and IV treatments, it’s the only way anything gets into the factory known as our bodies. So, there is much stress put on us by our doctors, friends, family, TV, and the woman on the corner to eat right to better our condition. And not everyone is wrong. There are certain things that improve or worsen our condition. We will listen to the “experts” and try certain things. Excluding things like sugar, dairy, nightshades, and gluten. Or “fad diets” like Paleo, Keto, Vampire, or Atkins.* We might even try Kale! Many of us will try anything if it means we reduce our pain and get a little life back. But, the more foods we give up, the more independence we lose.

Personally this area has been my biggest struggle. Two years ago I went dairy free at the suggestion of a nutritionist, and one year ago I totally cut out sugar. And, I won’t lie, excluding both of those have been fantastic for me! I may not always notice the improvement, but if I happen to slip up on purpose of by accident, I certainly notice then. I am solid and confident in my sugar free/dairy free life, and for the most part I am happy.

However, this does not mean everything is butterflies and unicorns. I still struggle as I’m sure many many of my chronically ill brothers, sisters, and non-binary siblings do. Two examples: My birthday, and the ice cream aisle. On my birthday my co-workers wanted to know what to get me for my party. Typically the birthday treat is cupcakes and fudge. Hello sugar and milk! After much thought, I received the treat of peanuts and pickles. (And I didn't complain) However, it didn’t mean it didn't hurt. My co-workers needed to avoid yummy delicious treats because of my AS. They were supportive, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel like a party pooper. As for the ice cream aisle, they have dairy free ice cream, and they have sugar free ice cream, but as a friendly store clerk told me, diary free & sugar free ice cream isn't ice cream. I'm out of luck there.

When it comes to dairy and sugar, I have lost my independence. People need to accommodate for me. Oftentimes meaning they might miss out on what they want. When my school does nacho day, frozen custard day, cookie day, etc for staff wellness days, I’m the only one not well. I could tell the people that sorry I can’t eat this, but that opens me up to feeling bad for making them feel bad.

Or when you need to find out if a restruant is accessible. Many would think that with all the handicapped parking spots all places would also be accessible. This is not always true. I have seen places where the "accessible" table is in a door way or up against a wall. The freedom to go to any restaurant one wants is never a guarantee.

When friends want to go out those of us with diet restrictions need to be “that guy/girl”. The one who has hard opinions on what we can eat. Ever stand behind the person at Starbucks who insists on soy milk and Stevia? Have you ever thought “Just take your coffee and drink it! You're holding up the line!” Yeah, that’s us, the ones holding up the line. Doesn't feel good.

We are jealous of those people who can eat whatever they want. Go to any restaurant, order anything off the menu, and even have dessert. This isn't about gaining weight, it's about being able to get out of bed in the morning.

Social

The next topic of how we lose our social independence ties into the three topics above and any others I have not mentioned. Humans are meant to be social. We aren't bears where we can just crawl into our cave and sleep for a few months. If any human crawled into a cave, nobody would be friends with them. Why? Because interacting is one of the standards of human life. We need other people! Sure, there are the mountain folk who go out, kill a deer, make clothing from it, light a fire and live their life in seclusion. (And there is nothing wrong with that) But, most humans need other people to cook our food, make our clothes, work on projects, drive us, and socialize purely for fun. The problem is, for many chronically ill people, getting out of the house and socializing sounds equal to climbing up and living in a mountain.

We are exhausted! Chronic illness takes a lot out of us! Every day can be a struggle to move, breathe, think, and complete other daily activities. Showering can be one of the most difficult activities for some. Doing laundry is pure hell! When most people hate it for the fact they have to do it, for me, folding makes me want to die! Seriously, I don't fully know why, but it hurts so much and takes so much out of me. After doing everything we have to do, we don’t have energy left for what we want to do.

I come home from work, my shoes come off, and I’m done! Very little is going to convince me to put my shoes back on and go out with friends when all I want to do is sleep. Because of this, many chronically ill people are forgotten. We bail on friends two or three times, and they just stop inviting us. But, then we have a good day, we are ready to accept an invite. Do we take it? No. Why? Because, we feel good now, we don’t know if we will feel good later.

Chronic illness symptoms can come in waves. We can have good days (or at least the start of a day) but then we drop. We don’t always know why we drop, but our feelings and mood are in no way guaranteed. So, we don’t risk it. It’s far better to be at home near our bed than 30 minutes away with a group of people you will need to apologize to for leaving early. Declining the invite or simple ghosting is far easier and less harmful to our psyche.

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Chronically ill patients lose all sorts of independence. We can not truly live free with AS, Fibro, EDS, POTS, Lyme, MS, ME or one of the many other chronic illnesses that totally sap us of life. We are not free do do as we like.

While others wake up and get to choose between running, biking, partying, fixing cars, eating amazing food, and/or playing with their kids. We wake up and.. well.. that's it.

In closing. If you know a person with a disability/chronic illness try to be understanding of their limitations. Don’t give them a hard time when they can't do everything you want them to. Our lives are hard enough dealing with all the independence we may have lost.

*I might have made up one of these diets

#spoonie #chronic illness #ankylosing spondylitis #chronicpain #chronic pain #lymedisease #eds #ms #fibromyalgia #freedom #independent #independence #sickness #food #depression #church #infertility #childless

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

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Hi could I please submit this prompt: "You're scaring me," she says quietly. "Please don't look like that. I wouldn't tell you you were if I didn't trust you."

Hi Anon!

Thank you for the prompt and yes we’re still filling prompts these days, we just have a lot of prompts in our ask box - which is a good problem so keep them coming - just bear with us as we fill them out. We have more prompts than we have fic ideas tbh so it does take some time lol!

So thank you for your patience! Anyways, hope you like it! Enjoy!

Summary: Post-apocalyptic canon divergent AU, everyone dies but only fifty of them remain after the Long Night is over and the Night King defeated. Jon and Sansa survive and they are the only ones left to rebuild Winterfell. R+L=J revealed and they both explore what that means…

Mood music: House Stark theme by Ramin Djwadi (brilliant man!)

Rated PG-13 (unbeta’d)

~Mod Elle xx

We Are Home Now

It still stood tall and proud. And grey. Some of the stones were chipped off and obscene chunks strewn all over the snowy grounds, but the walls still held fast.

That was Winterfell. The castle had taken countless beatings and yet its towers stood defiantly, the battlements still heavily draped with tattered Stark banners flapping in the chilly winds.

There was never any doubt to whom the castle still belonged to. Though it was no longer a domicile of proud Northern folk, most of them had perished in the Great War; a frightening war that lasted a year between the dead and the living. In its monstrosity, it had unleashed a great fear and dread never seen since tales of the Long Night were written. It had come as prophesied and it had come with a vengeance. Took with it every living person and creature, man woman and child. And the strong with the weak. Knights, squires and even Queens.

It tortured him a great deal; their shrill screeches still awake him at night and sleep had turned into a threatening demon - ever vigilant to snatch the very life out of his fatigued body every time he tried to close his eyes. He knew he had not slept for ages and it weakened him, no matter how much he tried to remain his stoic self.

Fifty. Just fifty. That was all there was. Just fifty of them who fought and lived. Tormund and the few wildling men who survived had returned with bleak news and with sacks of bones, proof and a result of months ranging deep into the north of the Wall - that there was not one living human left for miles and miles. The Night King had been industrious in his enslavement, his subjects had numbered almost all of Westeros. Except just fifty of them. Whether they were fortunate or cursed remained to be seen but Jon was thankful he survived to see his family by his side. The Starks will endure, he remembered Ned’s words still.

Word had yet to come from the South, where Arya, Pod and Gendry accompanied by the remaining Knights of the Vale were tasked to bring news of the state of the Capital. Jon had prayed for the first time in his resurrected life that they would all return safely home soon and intact. He had doubts, for the gods were cruel but if the Lord of Light had restored him, he would have the faith that He would restore his people too. If not, Valryian steel would do. Arya had proven a better swordswoman than most men he battled with.

At least he had Sansa by his side. Sweet Sansa, still shaken and bruised, her nightmares were every bit as real as his own. It had become somewhat a norm for them to be in each other’s company, sitting by the fire before they retired for the night. Words were rarely spoken but there was hardly a need, they were both comforted by each other’s presence. Though never acknowledged between them, Jon never felt more at ease with anyone, let alone a woman other than Sansa and there was no others that Sansa wished to spend her quiet time than with Jon.

Conversation was almost naught, since the day he returned home to Winterfell with the Dragon Queen by his side and pledged his fealty to her. The riot and discord amongst the Northern Lords and their objections were short lived when alarms had sounded and they all realised the dead had come marching too close to home. The Wall, created to keep the Walkers out had crumbled to pieces and the War had begun. Just as Jon had warned them.

The dead, the dead, the dead…

It had seemed like ages ago, almost as if it had been in another lifetime entirely as Sansa recalled how her heart nearly stopped when a wight had her neck in its clutches, the bony chilly fingers wrapped around her throat and Sansa found herself staring into hollow icy orbs of blue. This was what death had looked like. Her nightmares did not come close to what had touched her. And all she remembered was shutting her eyes and screaming.

It was within just a breath when she was yanked away forcefully from death’s own grip, one that made Sansa open her eyes despite her fears. Jon. How his warm body and familiar scent was suddenly over hers, shielding her from evil. That was the only word that played in her mind. Evil. Cold, pure evil. She watched in horror with her very eyes how the Dragon Queen fell, captured and torn to shreds by wights - as if she were a ragged doll, bloodied bits of her flying about and her magnificent dragons slain close by, failing to save their Mother, as each one was shot and bled to the ground.

No creature was too great nor too formidable for the Night King to kill. It was a sight that would remain on her mind for as long as she lived. Jon was right. There was only one war and it was nothing like any wars known to man.

The memory made her flinch and a small whimper escaped her lips, alerting Jon who was sitting quietly reading a book by the fire.

“Are you all right, Sansa?”

There was no need to speak of the truth that ailed her. It was a quiet and peaceful time for both of them and she would cherish these moments as much as she could.

“A slight knot in my neck is all, I had been sewing all night, yesterday. I suppose I shouldn’t any longer. Silly me.”

“New dress?” Jon gave a little knowing smile as he glanced her way to meet her eyes.

“A new cloak wouldn’t hurt. I’m making one for you and Bran.”

Jon’s face lit up in pleasure as his eyes met hers. “Thank you Sansa. I’m sure it’s magnificent and I’m looking forward to wearing it.”

“You’re very kind, Jon. I doubt it will be. I try my best but… sometimes my hands tremble a little too much-” Sansa paused, realising she had said more than she should. Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes for a moment.

A year was too little to escape from the horrors that replayed in her mind and a silence blanketed the room. A brief glance his way found Jon staring at her intently, as if willing her to continue and say her piece.

It was unsettling how he had his eyes resting on her. She had caught his stares more than once now, and it lingered a little too long than she thought was appropriate. There were questions in his eyes and if he was looking for answers, Sansa didn’t have them.

“I-I’m sorry. I meant the cold. This winter has gotten to me, I suppose.”

Jon broke his gaze and looked down. Sansa thought she saw a slight flush come over his cheeks, from the faint light of the flames. The silence was pregnant with unspoken need for seeking comfort. From their nightmares, obviously. What else could it be?

“I tremble too. Sometimes, when I sleep, my body twitches and I jolt out of bed. And I never want to sleep again.”

“It’s not the cold,” Jon continued as his gaze returned to her.

Sansa’s breath hitched and she almost clutched at her chest.

“I can’t sleep either, Jon. It tires me but I could never sleep. I know it’s not the cold. But… We’ve never talked about it.”

Jon didn’t answer. Sansa stared again into the flames. Whatever the Lord of Light has brought upon them, Sansa hoped it was a brighter future.

“Do you want to? Talk about it?” Jon’s voice wavered a little as the question finally escaped his lips.

“It’s been a year, Jon. All that’s happened. Why are we still alive? I can’t sleep at night because my nightmares are memories and I’m still truly frightened. I don’t want to live like this. None of us are the same anymore.”

“Aye, we’re still alive. We’re still standing. I don’t understand it anymore than you do and I wished I had answers, Sansa. But I don’t. I’m still Jon,” he said, his voice softening at the last few words, as if uncertain. No, you’re not, he thought to himself.

“ Are you? Are you, still Jon Snow?”

Jon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of burning embers was a constant source of comfort. I am a Stark. I am of the North. I have always been, he told himself.

“Aye. Is that so hard to believe? When I say that I am truly a Stark?” Jon turned to Sansa who was now fiddling a tad too zealously with her handkerchief.

Sansa hesitated to speak her truth. She had known about Jon, or Aegon as Bran recounted to her. Sam Tarly was present to corroborate that, pointing out to a page in archived anecdotal records. Secret ones, no less. And there it was clear as day, as to who Jon really was. His birth and his parents.

Perhaps, Jon realised she had known the truth. He wasn’t the same Jon anymore. Or at least she wasn’t certain.

“Will you hate me, when I tell you I know the truth? That I know who you are? We have to talk about this, Jon. About what it means.” The gentle, pleading tone in Sansa’s voice pricked his ears and it was unmistakable, her care and concern for him.

Jon felt heat rising up his neck and settling on his cheeks. Anger, it was not. His eyes remained on Sansa but his body inched closer and soon, they sat only two steps away from each other, their hands would almost touch if any one of them shifted ever so slightly. Strangely enough, he felt at ease still.

“Please don’t look at me like that. You’re scaring me.”

Jon quickly turned his head away, snapping back to his senses. Don’t, she’s still your sister. Half sister. Cousin.

“How did you know? Was it Bran?”

“Does it matter now? Please Jon, I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t trust you enough not to hold that against me.”

“Do you? Trust me that is? Now that I’m no longer a Stark by name?”

Sansa cocked her head slightly as she studied Jon. There was nothing different about him. He still looked the same. But there was a different air about him now that she sat in the presence of the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms. Or what was left of it. It was uncanny how she was always in the company of kings. Ominous, it seemed. Of what, she had little knowledge.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out.. The way you did. And I’m sorry about Danaerys, I-”

“No, Sansa. Please don’t,” Jon objected softly. “Please talk about everything else but please do not talk about her.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see if… If you’re all right, is all. With all that happened. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Jon.”

Jon sighed deeply. How he wished he could speak openly of his heart’s desires, his secrets, his fears. His shame and guilt.

“I am not. Aye, she was brave. She fought for the North but I shall be forever burdened with the guilt of her death it till my dying day.”

A familiar sense of home came over her and Sansa grabbed and squeezed Jon’s hand in his. “But she was your family, Jon. The only family you had.”

And I debauched her. I poisoned myself, my flesh mingled with hers. My own flesh and blood. I would live with the shame and have it burn deep in my bones till the day I die again.

“No. You’re my family. You. Arya and Bran. You have always been. No others could change that. We are home now, ” Jon’s other hand clasped hers in his and he found himself staring into her pale blues. Sansa smiled as her eyes slowly welled up in tears. Jon is Jon.

“Cousins,” Sansa corrected him, with a slight smirk.

Jon chuckled. “Aye, cousins.”

As the dawn of Spring kissed the snowy dew..

“Touch me, Jon. I want you to.”Jon opened his eyes and they were met with a piercing blue eyed gaze full of longing. Oh, Sansa.

“Sansa.. If I do, I’m afraid I will never ever stop,” Jon whispered into her mouth as their lips met again. This time with such fervent hunger, as she grabbed tightly onto his tunic, pulling him close.

“Then don’t. There is only us now. The only Starks left. We made a promise, Jon. To each other, to our family,” Sansa said as she nuzzled into his firm broad shoulder.

“Will you have me, then?”

Sansa ran her palm along the curve of his chin and cupped the side of his head. There was little resistance from either of them as Sansa lovingly kissed the tip of Jon’s nose.

“Yes.. we are home now. You and me. This is our Winterfell.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa prompts #anon asks #anon replies #prompt fills #canon divergent #post apocalyptic au #jonsa fic #major character death #dany dies

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