anon-argentine

[anon-argentine]

I know it’s not the point but I would love to see what these fuckers were up to during all those years.

Where did they go? What were they doing? How were they living? How did they react to seeing the world change around them?

Vampires is different, maybe the worst kind. But they live on, even if the one that made them is killed. They gotta be killed, one by one.

SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

[anon-argentine]

Yo también estaba ahí!

Andrés pidiendo la traducción de Olé Olé Olé porque estaba re confundido me mató.

went to the hozier concert last night and he said that ireland and argentina have a lot in common. yes. despising the english

[anon-argentine]

Lamponne le hizo un traje o un carrito especial a Betún

Ahora debemos ver qué le sucedió a Los Simuladores durante los sucesos de El Eternauta

[anon-argentine]

@netflix ustedes que tienen plata, no pueden llamar a un par de la selección?

Necesito una escena en la segunda temporada con los comandantes en Campo de Mayo y de la nada está SCALONI ahí dirigiendo a un grupo de soldados contra los bichos. Están ofreciéndole a Messi ser el nuevo presidente de la nación. Dibu está jugando con los más chicos para distraerlos.

average argentine when faced with nuclear destruction

[anon-argentine]

I’m watching Chopped Junior and there is a contestant called BUCK and he learned to cook from his FATHER and I’m still not over Bobby so please do yourselves a favor and imagine the following scenarios:

- Buck competes in a cooking competition and when asked who taught him he says “my captain 😊” and Bobby is in the audience cheering him on and goes “THAT’S MY SON!” at one point

OR

- Bobby and Buck compete as a team without stating what they are and at some point someone says “oh it’s so nice to see a father and son working together” and neither denies it

has someone written this yet? Do I have to do it?

[anon-argentine]

Suggestions:

Kali = Hindu goddess of destruction

Diana = Roman goddess of maidens and the hunt

Victoria = Roman goddess of victory

I can see mayravi as girl parents. They'd have two girls close in age. The first would be named for a goddess, keeping with tradition. May = derived from Maia Roman goddess. Athena = Greek goddess of same name.

[anon-argentine]

boluda ya estaba llorando ANTES de me citaras La Sociedad de la Nieve 😭😭😭

No hay amor más grande que el que da la vida por sus amigos.

[anon-argentine]

Rozgonyi Maria “Mariska”. Daughter of a minor Hungarian noble family, sent to Elizabeth Bathory’s finishing school. Sired by Elizabeth Bathory when she was seventeen.

Expert seamstress, applies vicissitude to make clothing out of her victims - corsets strengthened with femurs, bones added to embroidery, hair woven into thread for a tapestry, skin used as fabric - and to fit current beauty standards to attract them. Usually goes after ‘high-quality’ victims, but waits until they commit an offense that justifies their death (it usually doesn’t take long.)

Neurodivergent (but doesn’t know it) - has spend years hyper focused on a project (spent over a year making a chemise a la reine and only got to wear it once before the Revolution - still bitter about it) and even when human was so caught up in her work that she didn’t notice her ‘classmates’ were mysteriously dying.

Currently living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Hired a fellow Hungarian as a lady’s maid when she arrived in the city in the year 1900 and has consistently employed at least one descendant of hers for the past century - so she has her own serfs. They “sort of know” what she is but don’t ask too many questions - they are happy she doesn’t eat them and sponsors their kids’ education.

…

The Countess was a beautiful woman, the most beautiful according to some, and she took a liking to her skills with a needle. Mariska became so enraptured in the commissions that she barely noticed that three of the girls that arrived with her died suddenly. It wasn’t long before she realized that the long table where they broke their fasts now had ten plates instead of twenty. The servants say it was the plague, their trembling hands have fresh nicks and cuts.

Then one day the Countess asks if she would like to stay with her forever.

No need for her to get married or have children or even help run the keep, all she had to do was say yes and she could spend the rest of her days weaving and making her wonderful things.

She agrees.

attention vtm community I require your cool tzimisces. please show me them please please please pl

[anon-argentine]

I think it would be interesting to have a The Substance spin-off/prequel where we get to see what kind of sick people CREATED the stuff in the first place.

Or maybe-

There are two post-grad students, lab partners - a man and a woman. They are trying to finish their research, something that could revolutionize healthcare or make people’s lives easier - but funds are low and grants are hard to come by, so they are looking down the barrel of having to quit their work when suddenly a man appears.

He claims to be working for a company looking to create a serum. Something about unlocking your best self and taking the best of you and giving it new life. It sounds ridiculous, downright fantastical, but the money he offers them is very much real. It’s close enough to their original research objective, they would simply be working for a company and their work would be only for their benefit.

It’s a Faustian bargain, but the company is offering them to further fund their future research too. They just have to do this one serum and they can continue their actually important work. It’s just a simple beauty serum for aging models and desperate beauty queens - what could go wrong?

But then the testing starts. They can’t test it on animals because what does the “best version” of a rabbit even look like? The company insists they test with people. The two scientists protest at first, but they if they quit they lose everything. The money, the lab, the equipment. The company recruits homeless people as lab rats - they clean them up and give them food and a bed in exchange for their participation. Who is going to miss some junkies and hookers?

The horrifying effects of the Substance start appearing and the woman thinks they’ve gone too far. This is unethical with capital U. With every trial to figure out how the side-effects function, the bodies of dead and deformed bodies start to haunt her. She wants to quit - better to leave their research than to continue this madness.

The man tells his partner to think logically and put emotion aside. This could be huge - their work on the Substance could be even more revolutionary than their original research. Their names could go down in history. They can’t quit now.

Maybe the woman threatens to go to the authorities, maybe the man is too ambitious, maybe the Company doesn’t like loose ends. Whatever the case, the woman dies. Her body joins the ones used for testing - she might as well continue to be useful in death, the company decrees. Now with a knot in his stomach, the man is quiet.

The man finishes the Substance but now that he returns to the original research and he realizes he can’t finish it without his partner. He finally starts seeing the deformed bodies in his nightmares, in the mirror, on TV. He starts seeing his partner’s mangled form in the reflective surfaces of the lab, haunting him. He breaks every mirror, but the fractured image makes it worse.

He manages to write down the instructions for the Substance in an attempt at redemption. Maybe the users will realize how terrible it is and won’t use, they will be able to stop what he can’t. He takes his own life in the end.

The Substance is released to the selected few that are able to afford it and are desperate for it. All the deaths and the horror changed nothing. People ignore the warnings they don’t know someone died to give them; they don’t take into consideration what must have happened for the Substance to exist - why should they care? They just want to be young and beautiful again, that’s not a crime. The Substance won.

-

If the Substance is supposed to a critique of Hollywood and the anti-aging industry, this would be a critique of the beauty industry and the unethical business practices behind modern laboratories.

Thanks for listening. Someone get me Coralie Fargeat on the phone, we’ll need a lot more prosthetics.

[anon-argentine]

General Latin-American Catholic timeline: put up the Christmas tree and ornaments on December 8th (Día de la Inmaculada AKA Mary’s birthday) and take them down after January 6th (Día de Reyes AKA day of the Three Wise Kings)

mariah carey is nearly defrosted and they're playing christmas music in shopping malls

[anon-argentine]

The message gets even more obvious when you do the bare minimum research and learn the author is Argentinian.

Do you know what happened during the last Dictatorship (1976 - 1982)? The military stole the babies of political prisoners and gave them to “good” upper class families. They raped women in clandestine detention centers and took their babies away. To this day they are finding foreign-owned “surrogacy” agencies that target lower-class women to carry the fetuses of foreign rich people.

Every (and yes, I mean EVERY SINGLE ONE) government we’ve ever had as a country has either sold us out to whatever foreign power has more money (the Spanish, the English, the Americans) or exploited for their own gain.

Our greatest export is cattle. We’ve always been cattle. The book is just taking it literally.

What is Up with book girlies going ‘the worst part of the Book was when teenagers violently murdered puppies’ when the entire rest of the book exists. The human trafficking and using Human beings as product. It’s not about vegetarianism it’s about how capital reduces us to beasts it’s about how the system can give us everything we could ever want we only have to look past the atrocities. It’s about jasmine reaching for her baby only to have him denied by someone who sees her as a means to his own happiness.

[anon-argentine]

Went to class in complete darkness today at Filo (College of Philosophy and Literature), luckily it was during the early afternoon, so there was natural light.

I have class at 8pm tomorrow - what the fuck are we going to do? Use our phone lights? Listen in the dark?

Argentina has THE BEST public University of the entire south american region. Our current disaster of a president decided to reduce funding on said University. Now we don't know if all the colleges will be able to stay open after this first semester.

The college of Medicine can only remain open this semester by closing down lifts (it has 16+ floors), turning off any kind of heating (we're entering winter season) and turning off most artificial lights.

Students have to walk in semi-darkness to get to their classrooms. Access to classrooms is already limited because of the lifts being closed down and only people in wheelchairs will be allowed to use them. If you have any other kind of disability, well, tough luck.

And this is just the college of Medicine. This is just the tip of the iceberg, the first bit of news in regards to our University that is surfacing after this disgrace of a president declared war on intellectuals and the arts.

Yet you have fanatics consumed by hatred who say this is okay. They celebrate poverty, but they also punish it. If you're poor, you don't deserve education. If you're poor, you don't deserve access to the arts. If you're poor, you don't deserve anything. Your whole life should be dedicated to working so that maybe one day you will stop being poor. You won't ever stop being poor because the system is rigged against you, but you should sacrifice your whole life to try and not be poor anyway.

These fanatics celebrate suffering, not realizing they're screwing themselves up, too.

I'm sad for my own country. I want to say that I want to leave. But even when everything is being systematically broken down and destroyed, I want to stay. There IS beauty here. There IS hope.

But first and foremost:

Con la UBA ayer, hoy, y siempre.

[anon-argentine]

Consider something like this for a fanfic:

The Silent Sisters are secretly the Westerosi equivalent of the Faceless Men.

Women that are covered completely? You can walk in regular clothes and no one will recognize you. A vow of silence? People forget you are there and drop valuable info. An endless supply of dead bodies people give you access to? Time for experimenting.

The fact that this is an organization primarily made up of the willful rebel daughters of the nobility also means that you have a group of highly educated women with a bone to pick. Like: you dishonor your family so you are sent to the silent sisters but instead of being beaten and having your tongue cut off, you get to learn about poisons and ways to kill a man and when to give the gift of death.

Anyways, the Silent Sisters being an elite group of badass assassins.

I have a kind of curiosity about the Silent Sisters in asoiaf. We don't know almost anything about them because their presence is almost anecdotal in the story. But since Martin said the Order is like a Night Watch for women (they send there criminal women and probably other women that for some reason are 'problematic') I tend to think in them in a mystical way too. What if they have too a mission to fulfill against the Others? What if they know how to act against wights?

[anon-argentine]

Hey, outlander fanfic writers, I have a proposition for you.

Genderbent Claire and Jaime.

WW2 Army Physician Clarence Beauchamp is on a trip with his friend Frank in Scotland, to celebrate the end of the war. Druids, stones, he finds himself in the 18th century. Enter a group of Scots that save him from Randall (who uncannily resembles Frank), and with them a fearless red-headed Scottish woman named Jenny. (Yes, in this AU, Jenny is Jaime laird of Lallybroch while his rebel sister is thought to be dead).

Jenny McTavish seems to have the respect of all the men that surround her, they treat her like one of their own. Clarence later learns of the bounty on Red Jenny’s head, etc, etc.

Plot goes along essentially the same. Clarence is taken to Castle Leoch, he wins their tentative respect due to his prowess as a healer. Jack Randall is trying to get him, Dougal still has him marry Jenny so that Clarence has some legal clan protection. Any other changes to characters and plot are up to you.

Someone tag me when they write this, I’d love to read it.

[anon-argentine]

(face claim for older Dyana is Hayat Kamille as Mariam in Vikings)

Dyana Rennard becomes Lady of the Wolfswood at age twenty-five, following the death of her mother. Her husband, Jon Snow Rennard, becomes Lord Consort and stands besides her and their two young children - Sybil, a girl of eight, and Robb (known as Little Robb), a boy of six - and Ghost carefully protecting her swollen stomach that cradles their third child.

Winterfell saw Sybil born amidst the War of the Five Kings.

Jon accompanied Robb as his general in to rescue and then avenge Lord Stark, leaving a three-month pregnant Dyana in charge of Winterfell and minding Bran and Rickon. Dyana had wanted to accompany Jon, but he pleaded for their babe’s life - even Ghost turned his puppy-dog eyes at her, resting his head against her stomach - so she agreed to stay.

Osha, Rickon’s wilding nanny, warms up to her quickly once she sees Dyana come back with a boar she hunted herself. “You really are a Northern woman.” It’s the first compliment she has received for her skills since the pregnancy was announced, which makes her really happy. Osha and her become fast friends as they care for the younger Starklings.

Summer and Shaggydog, much like Ghost, quickly realize there is a new cub and become very protective (bordering on overprotective.) Every single person in her presence is regarded with suspicion - a maid that accidentally bumped into her in the hallway nearly pissed herself when the grey direwolf at her side jumped forward with his teeth bare. (Dyana apologized profusely and gave her extra coin for the scare.)

She is eight moons along and ready to pop any day now when they receive news of Ironborn raiders led by Theon Greyjoy heading to Winterfell.

The fucking turncoat who had danced with her at her wedding and promised to spoil her child so he could beat Robb in becoming the favorite uncle. That man was now coming to Winterfell and expecting a warm welcome.

He was gravely mistaken.

Dyana sends all the castle staff to their homes with the promise to send for them once the danger has passed - only the guards remain, as well as the midwife from Wintertown. “I have no doubts that your Stark babe will be born in the worst possible moment, and I shall be here to make sure they greet the cold wailing and kicking”. Dyana thanks the woman profusely and hands her a knife - just in case.

She sets new traps all around the perimeter of Winterfell, these ones meant for humans and horses. They are traps set to kill, not to maim.

When the time comes, Bran and Rickon are safely hidden in Winterfell’s crypts with Maester Luwin, Hodor, Osha, and their wolves. Rickon held on to her skirts and cried for her to stay with them too, only calming down when she promised to come back for them as soon as it was safe.

Her water breaks just as the first Ironborn fall to her traps and scream in pain. It seemed Theon had forgotten her house words. Never the Prey. She was the predator, a she-wolf willing to kill and maim to protect her cubs. Dyana Rennard would not show the invaders any mercy, she would kill them all.

Dyana grits her teeth as the contractions hit and resolves to finish this before her child is here. The midwife doesn’t want to let her out of her sight, neither does Ser Rodrik, the master at arms. But she has hours of labor ahead and she will not spend them in bed while there are hostiles surrounding them.

Later, the stories would tell of Dyana Rennard of House Stark, who defended Winterfell from the Ironborn with her bow and her hunting skills. They would talk about the wits and wiles of the huntress and how she led the people of Winterfell and Wintertown to safety, how she stood in front of an army of Ironborn while heavy with child and refused to back down when they demanded she hand over the young princes.

Theon Greyjoy even offered to trade: her life and her child’s life in exchange for Bran and Rickon. She would be allowed to return to the Den unharmed, provided she did as they said.

Dyana Rennard scowled and notched an arrow. Witnesses claim she shot three at a time, ending the life of Theon Greyjoy and two of his generals in a second. Others will mention that she commanded the Stark’s direwolves as if she were their master, and that anyone that dared to step in front of her would quickly find themselves with their throat ripped out.

The truth was she fired a single warning shot first, but not with an arrow.

“Look at you, begging at the feet of a new master for a scrap of attention. Did you not dance with me at my wedding feast, as Northern tradition dictates that the bride dances with her new brothers? Did you lie when you proclaimed you would spoil my child to become their favorite Uncle? What is the truth, Theon Greyjoy? Who are you? The man Ned Stark raised among his children with lessons in honor and bravery, or the coward who wants to pillage the home he was raised in?”

When Theon steps forward with a reply, she quickly fires two arrows into her throats of each general. She also shoots another one that grazes Theon’s throat. It’s a reminder to him - her aim is true, always. He will die because she wills it.

“Go back to your islands and your Ironborn, Greyjoy. And out of the friendship we once had, I will give you this warning: your father will not even bother to kill you when you prove yourself useless to him - and if you think of stepping foot in the North ever again, it will be Robb Stark you face off against.”

A stronger contraction hits as Theon leaves, forcing her to her knees. The midwife and Ser Rodrik are by her side in a second. “Hang the bodies, let those wet sons of bitches know what happens when you mess with the North.”

Sybil Rennard was born amidst wolves. She had a head of dark brown hair and eyes so blue they seemed purple and a strong cry that “nearly had the Ironborn running away”.

Maester Luwin sends a raven to Jon while mother and child rest peacefully with the Stark boys and their wolves.

To General Jon Snow of House Stark,

It is a pleasure to relay the news of the birth of Sybil of the Houses Rennard and Stark, a hale and healthy girl. She was born during the sunset, shortly after Lady Rennard killed two Ironborn and injured Theon Greyjoy, who fled.

Mother and child are healthy and recovering quickly.

With great regards and sincere congratulations,

Maester Luwin of Winterfell.

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

[anon-argentine]

Listen, Jon “I won’t have sex with a whore because I don’t want to sire a bastard” Snow has his resolve tempted every single day he meets with Dyana since they kissed for the first time. And Dyana knows this.

Even though the Rennard women have the upper hand in the house and no child of hers would ever be considered a bastard, Dyana understands his hesitation and respects it. Which is why she marches into Ned Stark’s solar the day after she comes of age and her mother has given her leave to choose a husband.

Now, Ned Stark and Cynthia Rennard are neither blind nor stupid. It’s clear that the two share a deep love and trust that most marriages never achieve. Cynthia has been stitching a wedding cloak since Jon Snow brought the boar he killed to the Den, offering it to the household with a lovestruck smile. Ned Stark had a smile on his face as he watched Dyana Rennard wait for his nephew at the gates and beaming at the sight of him.

Dyana kneels in front of her liege lord and looks him in the eye. “My lord, I have come to ask for your blessing to propose to your son Jon.”

Ned Stark smiles softly. “Is Jon aware of such a proposal?”

“I’ve discussed it with him. But he also deserves the care and respect most nobles would show towards the House of their intended.” Dyana says bluntly before bowing her head. “May I speak frankly, my Lord, even though you might consider it an offense?”

Gods, this can’t be good. “Of course.”

“The reason Jon hasn’t told you of my proposal is because he doesn’t believe himself worthy of a noble wedding.” She says, lifting her gaze and looking him in the eye. “I would humbly ask that you marry us in the Godswood, with your family present and a celebration afterwards. Allow him the chance to feel important here before he leaves.”

Ned Stark smiles with teary eyes. He isn’t blind to his nephew’s isolation, his wife’s derision, his lack of opportunities in Winterfell. He was keenly aware of Dyana Rennard’s intentions Jon - the raven from Lady Cynthia letting him know she approved the match and commending him for raising such a strong, kind man had him praying in the crypts for an hour.

A stray tear slid down his cheek. The love and care for Jon was present in Dyana’s every syllable, in her resolve to speak to her liege lord with hard facts, in her beseeching to his fatherly love to make Jon happy. Your son is safe and loved, Lya. Good and strong and happy with a woman who loves him.

Lord Stark holds out his hands and helps the huntress up, squeezing her hands with gratitude. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you for caring for my son.” They take a step back and Ned bows to her. “I am honored to call you my good-daughter.”

She is invited to dinner at the Hall and insists she will only sit with Jon - at the main table and nowhere else. Ned agrees, much to his wife’s chagrin.

They announce their engagement and are received with cheers and claps on the back. Jon’s ears turn red from the attention and his whole face burns when Dyana kisses him and the hall cheers and hoots.

Then one of their children has purple eyes and Ned Stark has a heart attack lol

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.

[anon-argentine]

oh look, the silly fic has developed its own canon

After that fateful encounter with the trap, Dyana and Jon become fast friends despite their opposing personalities.

Dyana has the wiles of her house symbol, complete with predator grins and disarming charm. She is quick to endear and to strike. She talks while setting up and checking traps, always finding a new topic to comment on, but stays deathly quiet while on the hunt, becoming a ghost to kill her prey.

Jon, in his sullen silences, doesn’t talk much at first. The Wolfswood has become a welcomed escape from Winterfell, and he feels that breaking his silence will lead to him saying the wrong thing and finding himself escorted back to Lady Stark’s disdain. But Dyana never stops talking, and she eventually says something that has him laughing and scaring off every animal nearby.

She berates him, but there is only mirth behind it now. “Useless- if I left you here you would manage to scare all the prey out of the Wolfswood- they’ll probably think a dragon is chasing them.”

Jon smiles at her. “It’s a good thing you are here to stop me, then.”

“Of course, I would never leave you behind.” Dyana replies naturally, smiling softly. Jon’s heart jumps in his chest and heat rushes to his cheeks.

When the sun starts to set, Dyana escorts him back to Winterfell. “I’m not letting you wander about and get eaten by the elk, Jon. I’ll see you cross the gate and then I’ll leave.”

Jon doesn’t tell her that he is already pretty confident he could find his way back to Winterfell alone, but he enjoys her company and revels in having someone be concerned about his well-being. In return, he waves goodbye and watches as she disappears back into the forest - not out of fear for her safety, but in awe of the easy way she blends in with the trees as she heads back home.

He eventually is deemed passable enough at archery by the Master-at-Arms, so he brings a bow and quiver the next time he goes into the forest. He is met with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

“Let’s go hunting, then.”

The first time he shoots down a boar and slaughters it clean, Dyana laughs and congratulates him so earnestly that leftover adrenaline in his body takes control and he kisses her. She eagerly kisses him back.

They are fifteen years old with bloodied gloves and sharp grins, the lovers in the woods. They remain together until the sun sets and the vixen escorts the wolf back to his lair.

Jon Snow beams when Dyana Rennard looks back and smiles at him a final time before going back into the forest.

Jon Snow deserves the world and luckily for him, Dyana Rennard is willing to get it for him.

House Rennard is a Northern house right in the middle of the Wolfswood. Their sigil is a red fox in a field of light grey. They are known for producing excellent hunters, hawkers, trackers, and tanners - they are also proud of teaching both girls and boys to hunt.

According to legend, House Rennard was founded by a shapeshifter: a vixen-woman fell in love with a First Man and stalked him as he hunted through the Wolfswood. One night, she approached his camp, where she laid a dead rabbit at his feet - an offering. The First Man, even unaware that the fox was a woman, thanked the fox kindly and shared the rabbit with it - whereas a lesser man would have killed the fox, he instead showed kindness and gratitude.

Though no Rennard has ever confirmed that they can take the form of a fox, the women of House Rennard take to courting like them. If they are interested in a match, they will go hunting with their intended in the Wolfswood for three days. Together, they shall set traps and hunt animals, showing their conflict resolution skills and their patience. If the man tries anything untoward, the Rennard woman will knock him out, take his supplies, and leave him to find his way out on his own (some have also taken to hunting said man for sport). However, if the match is successful, they will return together with pelts for their wedding bed.

Jon and Dyana as adults (image generated with Bing AI, I can’t draw and have no money, sue me)

They met as young teens. All of 12 years old and angry at the world. Jon had gotten into a fight with Robb and ran off into the Wolfswood, where he ran and ran until he stepped right into a trap.

As he hung in a rope net in their air, a girl came out from behind a bush and started berating him for messing up her trap and scaring all the game away.

And this is how the love story of Dyana Rennard and Jon Snow started.