#direwolvess

[fayevalcntine]

So I don't have the lingo down yet, but at least I have the attitude. You do, huh?

Oh yeah. When I was getting a locker for my backpack at the bus stop, there was this guy and he was just standing there staring at me and instead of ignoring him...

[lilyaldrln]

Times VirtueMoire Were Really Horny for Each Other: 1/?

And The Waltz Goes On (Canadian Nationals 2013)

[alciavikkander]

gratuitous gifs of jess mariano: [24/?]

[jonsapositivity]

Direwolvess is a baby jonsa (both in that she’s 16 and that she’s only been around a few months) but her first attempts at fic have been GREAT hall of fame worthy and her gifs and edits have of course been a blessing to us. Lola is so easy to talk to, she’s funny, she’s smart, and she’s got a great voice for radio. More than that, she was always happy to help me edit my fics. She wants to go into book editing, and she’s already a better editor than me and she’s only a baby! Shout outs to direwolvess/Lola, an icon!

anonymous at @direwolvess

[ladystarks]

Borgias AU

My bitchpack secret santa gift for @direwolvess. Lola, I love you so much and I hope you have an amazing Christmas.

Sansa returns to Rome with little fanfare. It is better this way. If father is able to obtain the annulment for her, it must not look as though they’ve celebrated. Still, rolling into the city she’s grown up in with the blinds pulled seems too much like she’s sneaking in, like she’s truly done something wrong, so she tugs on the curtains until she can see the cobbled streets of Rome once more—the merchants, the stalls, the barefoot children. She’s missed this more than she can say, when she’d been sequestered away with her husband. The smells, the noise, the gleam of the city just under the dirt of it…

In the country, at her husband’s home, there had been only silence, loneliness and open space.

Sansa sticks her head out of the carriage window and inhales. How she’s missed this. She’d feared that upon her return, she’d not fit. That the girl she was, with frilly dreams of princes and a marriage full of love, would not have left a space for the woman she’s become.

She needn’t have worried. This is still her home. And when the carriage rolls to a stop, she sees her brother waiting to welcome her.

“If I’d have known,” Jon says, and it’s all flooding back, this feeling of belonging she has whenever he’s with her, “I’d have killed him myself.”

“I had it handled,” Sansa says, muffled against the dark cloth of his vest. “For a bit, at least. He fell from his horse.”

“Harry the Hunter,” Jon scoffs, pulling away to touch her face. “Oh, sis, how good to see you again.”

Sansa’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment, and her face turns into his palm.

“I’d expected to see you in a cardinal’s reds,” she says, when she has composed herself.

“Black suits me more.” Jon steps away, offers his arm. Sansa takes it gingerly, lets him lead her into her mother’s villa. “Besides,” he adds, “we match today.”

“My marriage will be ending quite soon,” Sansa says primly, but she cannot help the smile that breaks through at the words. “I should appear to be in mourning.”

“You’d best control your face, then,” a voice says. Robb grins at her from the top of the staircase, and Sansa releases Jon’s arm so she can run to embrace him. “You look entirely too happy to be home, dearest sister.”

She hadn’t been, on the way here. Relieved, perhaps, but an anxious knot tied in her belly. Carefully, she smooths her face and takes Jon’s arm again. “Is mama home? I’ve a lot to tell her.”

Sansa hasn’t always felt this way about Jon. For most of her life, Jon was just her bastard brother—as though she and Robb and Arya at the time had not been bastards themselves. But their father legitimized them, claimed them even though he was a cardinal. Jon had never been recognized the way they had, and he’d gone in their father’s footsteps, become a priest at seventeen, cardinal at twenty. But once Father became pope and Robb became the head of affairs, taking Bran trotting after with him to learn politics, Sansa decided to spend more time with Arya. And along with Arya came Jon.

Their closeness with one another is unnatural. Sansa cannot remember when it started, only that between one day and the next she was leaning into his arms, tugging on his curls, pressing sweet kisses to the side of his mouth when he pleased her. Her mother did not approve, but no one said a word, not until her husband, in a fit of rage, had snarled that it was her brother she wanted in bed, wasn’t it? Unnatural Stark blood, he’d spat. Sansa’s childlike innocence had soured then. For a while, she could forget Jon, if she tried. Podrick, the stable boy in her husband’s castle, had helped her forget, had helped her with her husband, even, loosening his saddle so he would fall mid-hunt.

She could always forget Jon when he was far away from her. But when he’s near…Sansa would fall into his embrace, feel the potency of his nearness. He understood her far better than Sansa would have thought anyone could, knew when she needed silence and distance, or distraction and nearness. For the past two years, Sansa has known that there is something between them. He knows too, if his lingering gaze is any indication, if his fingers tightening on their waist during a dance means anything.

It does, Sansa assures herself, fixing her beaded hairnet in the mirror. I cannot be the only one.

Father does not want her to do this. He would never ask. But Sansa’s seen Lord Petyr’s eyes linger on her, knows how much he’d fancied her mother all those years ago.

Sansa looks very much like her mother.

“He’s threatening war,” Sansa had argued, only a half-hour past. Her father’s eyes could not meet hers. “If you cannot pay the price he demands, he will destroy the Vatican, he will wage war on the church!”

“Florence will come to our aid,” her father said, his jaw tight. But he’d conceded at last, known that Sansa was in the right—Lord Petyr would give up this brewing war if he was offered Lady Sansa, the pope’s beautiful daughter.

She has to wait, now. See if the proposal will be accepted, though she is nearly certain it will be. The few times she’s met Lord Petyr since she was a girl she’d sensed his interest. He’d not been subtle, and Sansa only prays it will be enough to sate his appetites for power. To have his wife be the daughter of a Pope…

“You cannot do this,” Jon says from behind her, and Sansa’s heart clenches.

“I must,” she says, turning. He’s never looked so distraught.

“We will find another way,” Jon insists, stepping forward to grab her arms. “Robb will muster enough forces. We will drive Petyr Baelish and his scum from Rome.”

Sansa wishes there was another way. She wants there to be.

“This family runs on ambition, dear brother,” she tries, her voice steely. A clean break, then. “Is it truly so difficult for you to understand I’ve added my ambitions to yours? That I’d like to be more than just a piece to be bartered off in our Father’s game?”

“He would never,” Jon begins poisonously, releasing her arms. “I’ll speak to him, Sansa, he would never give you to a snake like Baelish.”

Oh, Jon, Sansa thinks. Her foolish, noble brother—promised to God, to serve their father so loyally. He would not be able to lift a finger if Sansa were actually given away. But she loves him for wanting to.

“I must go,” Sansa says, her voice soft as air. “But, my love, if Petyr is…ungallant, as Harry was with me, I promise that you shall be the first to know.”

A muscle in Jon’s jaw ticks, and the tension ebbs from him slowly. “Only if I can come and kill him,” Jon says, voice rough. “If he is…ungallant.”

“But of course.” Sansa steps close to him again, darting her eyes ‘round the empty corridor of her mother’s villa before pressing a swift, close-mouthed kiss to Jon’s lips. She has done this before, this not-so-accidental press of mouths, but now…she lingers. Only for a moment, but the moment is enough for Jon to shudder, hand closing about her elbow.

When Sansa pulls away, she is breathing heavily for some strange reason, her eyes swimming. Jon merely presses his forehead to hers.

“He will not have me forever,” Sansa vows, eyes still closed. “You know what we Starks do to our enemies.”

[scullys]

zedayas → keira-knightley

forget what i said about canon urls last time i changed it

[bisansastarks]

direwolvess replied to your post: Honestly i love book Dany bc shes so a sixteen...

like the fact that it’s a grown ass women who can’t emote doing shit makes everything so wildly different because everything book!dani  does is very clearly because she’s a child with no emotional support and some mild psychosis issues lmfao

Book Dani: I need to be a super Targaryen because believing I was was the only way I survived years of emotional physical and sexual abuse. I feel like if I reclaim the throne i will reclaim my family. 

Me: I mean you’re wrong but come here bb and lets discuss your questionable taste in dudes. 

[maevemilllay]

GoT Characters as Things Said in the Bitchpack Group Chat:

Tyrion Lannister: laugh at my funny joke.

Jon Snow: I’m in aegony.

Sansa Stark: I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.

Cersei Lannister: not to be ###thatbitch.

Daenerys Targaryen: yuck.

Jaime Lannister: honestly chill it’s just incest.

Brienne of Tarth: are you ever triggered by someone’s entire personality?

Bran Stark: I’m emo don’t come for me.

Arya Stark: wow I can’t wait to fight you all to the death.

Tywin Lannister: I’m a dead beat dad.

Ned Stark: wow how long it look.

Davos Seaworth: it’s al about the general vibe.

Renly Baratheon: I’m still like .99% straight I hav rights.

Margaery Tyrell: the lesbeans are fonna attack.

Samwell Tarly: I lick rocks for science.

Theon Greyjoy: I really boned myself on this one guys.

Rhaegar Targaryen: we already have a snake in this house.

Bronn: get ready for shitstorm.

Melisandre: wow she really boobs.

Loras Tyrell: me? gay? yes.

Meera Reed: i’ve never looked at a man and been impressed.

Olenna Tyrell: ive only seen like one episode but i read that in gossip girl voice.

Oberyn Martell: I had to pretend to be heterosexual to do it...tragic.

Gendry Baratheon: still relevant five minutes later.

Sandor Clegane: sometimes you guys say things that make me want to pour bleach directly into my eyes so i can never read again.

[timothechallamet]

direwolvess replied to your post “Do you know any other really good romantic shows like reign?”

aksldfjklas i thought 'the borgias!!!' and then was like 'oh wait..... normal people probably aren't into that'

lmao borgiacest is a love story i don’t care

trash is so good :)

[msjessicaday]

@direwolvess replied to your post “hi thank u to the ppl who constantly compliment my colouring u don’t...”

you're welcome

whos this

[fayevalcntine]

From “Trouble”, part II of The Harvest Moon Series [insp.] Congratulations @missismess for 100 kudos!

[ladyeowyn]

your picspams are out of this world gorgeous, i'm legitimately in awe

asdfghjkl, thank you so much! I'm very flattered to hear that from someone as talented as you are! ♥

[alciavikkander]

gratuitous gifs of jess mariano: [26/?]

[jonsapositivity]

direwolfpupy and direwolvess should probably be studying so they can get into a good college or something, or BE IN BED YOU HAVE SCHOOL IN THE MORNING, but I love the Jonsa infants. They’re great pals. When we get mocked, people are always like ‘WELL JONSAS ARE ALL YOUNG THAT’S WHY THEY’RE SO IMMATURE AND STUPID’, but actually, Lola and Josiah are extremely intelligent. To a point where everyone thinks they’re the one in their late 20s/30s. I wish I had my head on that straight at 16/18. and I love that our fandom is respectful of teens and young people! I know sometimes we forget, but Jon and Sansa are only 13 & 17! haha :D

anonymous at @direwolfpupy and @direwolvess

[ladystarks]

Innocence, once lost, can never be regained. -John Milton

Lucrezia Borgia, drawn for @direwolvess

[missgoalie75]

okay but like imagine thanksgiving going differently and that everyone in this damn universe is alive and together:

frank goes to thanksgiving at the liebermans and brings karen as backup because this will be his first thanksgiving since losing his family and it makes him a little nauseous.

he doesn’t eat a lot because his stomach is in knots, half expecting anything to go wrong, but it’s nice. 

(karen looks over at frank and smiles and the knots ease a little)

david and sarah are not subtle with their staring and their knowing smirks and frank wants to sock david, but he won’t (he just claps him extra hard on the back when they leave)

frank goes to drop karen off at home and she’s like ‘uh yeah wait drop me off at this random location i’m going to another thanksgiving’

and frank is like what. who else is th - oh for the love of god

he has heard about red teaming up with a bunch of other whackos and he is not about to involve himself with that, but karen has already been involved since the beginning, so fine, he will drop her off and wait for her until she’s done. just to make sure she gets home.

but she just looks at him when he parks the truck and okay, okay fine.

he guesses he should be grateful that it’s not being hosted at something obviously marked with the name ‘rand’ on it since he doesn’t expect brilliance from any of them

he walks in and there’s jessica holding a half-empty bottle of wild turkey in a loose grip while playing quarters with trish, foggy is carving a turkey poorly while claire is giving instructions, obviously exasperated while luke cage hides his amusement behind his hand, matt murdock is talking with danny rand and colleen about a sword in colleen’s hands.

frank considers jump out of the window or at least turning around and driving away, but karen has a hand on his arm and gently leads him inside.

matt has a moment where he is obviously like ‘fuck omg’ because frank was never told/never knew who daredevil was and frank is just like ‘obviously i fucking know you’re daredevil you talk so goddamn much as both people’ and basically just says how much he sucks

jessica laughs out loud and offers frank a drink from one of the bottles sitting in a box by the table because she apparently bought a case of wild turkey as her contribution. excessive, yes, but she wasn’t going to take the chance of potentially running out while in the company of these losers

claire is like i don’t even fucking care that this mass murderer is at the table this is my life now and i just have to accept it

(at one point she checks his bruises and healing scars and chastises him for constantly getting himself to the brink of death he’s just like matt always a mess)

frank eats more at this thanksgiving meal, probably because it’s so dysfunctional.

it naturally starts with an argument about gun control and how luke really isn’t a fan of frank and how of course this white military man can get away with using guns as his means of being a vigilante and frank nods and doesn’t argue because yeah, true, it sucks, and colleen just says guns require no skills and swords are better, basically sticking her tongue out, and frank tells her about his knife and danny is like ‘why does anyone use weapons it’s not right’ and jessica is like ‘stfu somebody call the waaahmbulance’ and claire and luke snort into their drinks.

matt at one point is like ‘uh karen are you super sure about frank’

and karen is like ‘yes you dick now shut up and enjoy the stuffing’

matt fixes jessica a plate of food because ‘you can’t just have wild turkey for thanksgiving,’ which jessica ignores until later on in the night when she starts picking at it and eventually eats all the mashed potatoes and steals the serving bowl for herself.

(danny is very upset about this because he still has the palate of a child and he wants more mashed potatoes, but jessica is literally laughing with a mouthful of mashed potatoes at his face, keeping the bowl in her lap because her maturity probably matches his palate in age)

at one point claire talks to karen about frank but is less of a sanctimonious jerk about it (sorry matt) and karen is like ‘ik it’s a lot but he’s good he’s getting better he’s moving forward finally’ and claire is like ‘okay...may god be with you seriously’

foggy attempts to give the ‘you hurt karen i’ll hurt you’ speech to frank and frank is just like, okay. i mean i would rather kill himself than hurt her but sure, if that happens, i’ll let you hurt me...i’m going to walk away now.

there are three different kinds of pie and karen takes a slice of each and frank eats a little off her plate, their forks occasionally touching on the plate.

the weirdest thanksgiving frank has ever had, but it wasn’t all that terrible

(but he swears he will not work with these people ever, especially not the one claiming to have fought a dragon because that’s fucking ridiculous)