<blockquote>Summary:
There are some people the universe really, really wants you to meet. // After about twenty seconds of silence, the guy in the peacoat says, “I really promise I’m not going to murder you.”
Notes:
Or, Sansa is a genetic counselor, Jon is a Targaryen (maybe?), and it’s secular Christmas in modern Westeros.
In which I take a fandom to work for like the fortieth fucking time and it’s a lot of exposition because--I do what I want? And what I wanted was a big joke about inbreeding depression. (Please take none of the below seriously.)</blockquote>
