welcome to dngrzned‚ a multi muse with original and canon characters from various media sources. as per bug/daisy.
🐞 rules and muses. 🐞 perm starter call. 🐞 plotting call.
Xuebing Du
Not today Justin
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Sweet Seals For You, Always
DEAR READER
YOU ARE THE REASON
Mike Driver

Love Begins

Janaina Medeiros

tannertan36
Three Goblin Art
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER
🪼
Stranger Things
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Venezuela

seen from New Zealand
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from Australia
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from France

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@dngerzned
welcome to dngrzned‚ a multi muse with original and canon characters from various media sources. as per bug/daisy.
🐞 rules and muses. 🐞 perm starter call. 🐞 plotting call.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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coughs. @lavders
coughs. @lavders
coughs. @lavders
her office is in some disarray, folders and unstapled sheets strewn over her desk after having been tasked with scouting out for a new team to test some high - stakes stealth manoeuvres. it was too much -- too many pilots, too many bases, far too many letters of recommendation ( valentina was certain that people were just trying to skim people off of their rosters with how eager they were to get rid of their supposed best ). it had frazzled her enough that for once, the countess has to walk away.
knocking only once, nia breezes into cyclone's office, shutting the door behind her, " i needed to breathe, " she explains in a soft huff, back pressed against the door for just a moment before stepping forward and closing that space between them, coming closer to the admiral and finally, with a thoughtful sound, draping herself in her husband's lap, head burying in the crook of his neck. " did i interrupt anything? " @cyklonn.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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adding: evelyn williams of amer/ican psy/cho.
i've been mostly over at @shegunner x
@witchered's ophelia and geralt ask reply days ago brought me back to this dash .....
@tinytanks < 3
lays down flat why does everything i touch turn to dirt

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hiiiighway to the STARTER CALL !
oh so it’s top gun summer two, huh?
AND THERE SHE IS, CHRIS ! AFC RICHMOND WOMEN'S CAPTAIN, TANYA PARKER, NUMBER SIXTY SIX ! a former gunner, this youngster is a spitfire on the pitch -- wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her, arlo. i heard she sharpens her teeth to be more like a sharks'..
NATALIA DYER in the trailer for BASED ON A TRUE STORY
NATALIA DYER as Chloe Lake in BASED ON A TRUE STORY (2023)

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He thinks about his life, sometimes. He knows that James was around - was with Georgie, as much as James could have been with someone - when he was born. He knows that that didn't last [ and had told the team such on the night of the sacrifice show & tell - her and m'dad split up when I was just a sexy little baby - a callback that only Georgie would've understood, but a callback he made nonetheless ]. There were years - eight of them, eight lovely, perfect years that Jamie wishes he could remember more vividly - where it was just him and Georgie and happiness. And sure, there were some Man City mugs in the cupboard that never seemed to be used, not even when Georgie made him her famous hot chocolate, but Jamie learned to pay them no mind. And, when James did show up, to try to worm his way back into Georgie's life - or Jamie's, because Jamie always seemed to be the catalyst [ when he was 9 and Jamie had gotten his Academy spot. Every time City's Academy lads made it far in their tournaments, every time Jamie scored a goal. When he was 16 and got his call up to England's U17 squad. The only time Jamie hadn't been the catalyst was when he was 14. Jamie didn't know why James started showing up again at that point - what he had to gain, aside from Georgie ] Jamie knew it wouldn't last long. That they'd get to go back to the peace of their two-person family, that they'd lean on each other for healing. "You made me the happiest lad, too. I mean it, Mummy, you did. Some mums in Manc wouldn't have let their sons watch Chelsea every week," he jokes, trying to lighten the air, even if Georgie wouldn't get the joke to the extent that someone as entrenched in football culture would. "You let me have whatever you could give me. You told the recruiter for City yes, when I were just a kid, just your baby, 'cause you knew it'd make me happy, and it'd give me a shot at something that most kids in England only dream of. You bought me boots whenever I grew out of the old ones, even though I dunno how you managed to find the money t'do that. Even if we didn't have much, we had each other... and I'm really lucky t'still have you in m'life."
He smiles at her as she presses their foreheads together, something soft, small, but all hers. When she sits back, he goes back to running his fingers along the seam in her jeans, feeling each of the little bumps under his callused fingertips. She speaks up again, and it startles him, just a little bit. His uncle's name is Ted? That makes him ache inside, makes him want to reach for his phone and make a call to America, despite the time of day it'd be for his Ted to be getting a phone call right now. "Don't tell me he supports United..." Jamie tries to joke again, though the joke about his uncle comes out sounding hollow. Georgina, Theo, Ted, and Georgie. The family Jamie hadn't had growing up. The family he should've had. He wraps his arm around Georgie's waist, burying his face into her stomach, trying to process everything he'd just learned. Twenty-six years old, just learning about himself and his past - maybe some things are better left unsaid, some ghosts rid of by sacrificing things at a show & tell. This is Georgie's sacrifice show & tell, though - Jamie has nothing to give, when it comes to his blood. "Did y'know Dad's family...?" he asks, after a moment of silence. He's just trying to figure out how many people he's never known [ will never know ] that are bragging about him in pubs, in beer gardens, in dens, likely all still in Manchester. People that may have been booing him at the Etihad last season.
"I don't need any of 'em, Mummy. I've got you. And Simon. And Keeley. And Roy. And all'a the Greyhounds. And I've got my Ted, in America, but he'd pick up a call from me at any time'a day." He's got tears in his own eyes that he doesn't try to blink away. Not anymore. There's no shame in being soft. "We've got us." Maybe he should tell her, he thinks, about Amsterdam. While they're getting rid of ghosts. But he's not sure he's ready for that, yet.
" you needed boots, jamie. so i got you boots. simple as -- it's what a mum does. " flogging a handbag here, a ring there. spending her time off - when he was at training or school - cleaning some rich bastard's house, doing their ironing.. she'd always made it work.
she undoes his braids gently, sifting her fingers through the intricate do until his hair was loose once more and then those soft fingers make work of starting again, much like they'd done many times in their lives, sighing softly and biting back her own solemn tears. these were the same hands that had wiped his tears when he'd scuffed his knees playing out, that'd so carefully applied plasters and held his injuries for her to give them a kiss. the hands that'd helped him gel his hair up for school when he was just a kid, complimenting him on how cool he was and how everyone would want to be just like him. that'd held his hand in the shops, tugging him away from the toys and the things that she couldn't quite afford with a heavy heart. that fed him calpol when he was unwell and carried him to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa beside her. the hands of a mother who time and time again sacrificed, without ever wanting anything in return than her little boy to just be happy.
georgie thinks of ted, her ted, the brother she'd loved so fiercely, who read her stories when she was scared of thunderstorms and who told his friends to fuck off when they were mean to her. how he stood at the window and watched her trudge her suitcase and backpack along, a girl of seventeen to his twenty. he'd let her leave, he didn't even chase after her, didn't even try to find her when she'd gotten involved with social services. then, she thinks about his ted, who'd forged a family in the richmond team, who jamie spoke of so highly, with such love, " i know he would, baby. he were always so good to you, weren't he? is good still. " she smiles a little, " though i'm glad i'm not the one payin' your phone bill no more, eh? phone calls to america my ass, i'd've 'ad ya cleaning dishes forever to make up for them costs. "
her sigh is heavy, her lip wobbles, " i know - knew - y'dad's lot, yeah. 'is dad were just like 'im. nasty old sod.. uh.. dave, or daniel or something. mean bastard. didn't like me much, apart from when i'd be at their house makin' the tea with y'nan, with his wife. pauline. " she wants to tell him everything, would even tell him about the times she'd skived school to go have a kick about down the park to impress some local layabout lads, or how she met his dad, even. " she was alright. but i saw.. " she takes a slow, purposeful breath, " in her eyes, when i really looked at her, i saw myself. me, if i were married to james. if i stayed with him and made his lunches and washed his clothes and put up with his drinking and swearing and anger, y'know kid? you'd have liked her, i like to think. i did. he had brothers, too. but they were all the same. and their girlfriends, wives.. they had that same look. " georgie's got hot tears running down her cheeks as she looks down at him, at the boy she'd tried so hard to rescue from sharing the nasty tartt streak.
How strange a thing life is. His whole childhood, he’d hated his name. Kids at school thought they were the cleverest things, as if Jamie had never heard that Tartt and tart sounded the same. During his Academy period, even through his time with City proper, Jamie continued to hate the name on the back of his shirt. Hated that his father could be watching [ was watching, every match at the Etihad, on tickets Jamie had comped for him because he wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone without them ] and seeing his name on Jamie’s back. He’d only started to like it the first time Roy Kent had angrily called him Tartt - it sounded dead good, pissing off Roy, but also knowing that the man who he’d worshipped growing up knew him personally, by name, even if Roy hated him. So Tartt it was. Jamie fucking Tartt. Tartt for Richmond. The way Dani referred to him as Jamie Tartt when he was delighted. The way Keeley would whisper Jamie fucking Tartt in his ear before kissing him. The way people would tweet things like Tartt For England before his call up, and Tartt for Ballon d’Or now. He loves his name. But he knows that it will always, always carry baggage for himself and Georgie. He remembers the little noise Higgins made when Jamie had given him the name James Tartt for the tickets sheet for Wembley. Still remembers seeing his teammates faces in his peripheral vision when they met James for the first ( and only ) time. Tartt is better than Bolton, the very family that had abandoned Georgie before Jamie was even born. But still. A strange thing, life.
He keeps himself quiet as his mother talks about life before him. He’s heard so few glimpses into that life in all his 25 [ nearly 26 ] years. He wants to know more, but he’d never push Georgie into telling him anything she isn’t comfortable talking about. When Jamie gets to hear about it, he listens - and listens well. He keeps rubbing her back with his fingertips, eyes on her face. Hearing that his grandmother referred to him as an it was unsurprising, but it still hurts. He can feel some of that Tartt anger flaring up inside of him, but he pushes it away, replacing it with Bolton Carter stubbornness. They never deserved Georgie. She’s the best woman in the world, a title she shares with Keeley, in Jamie’s mind. “Mummy…” he whispers when she calls him the love of her life. He gives her a sad little smile, his heart aching for her as he looks up into her eyes [ those blue eyes, that she gave him. So unlike the brown of his father's. Hers are soft, loving, warm, home ].
He's equally surprised to learn that her brother ( his uncle, he supposes ) showed up at her door when Jamie was sitting on the bench at Wembley, waiting for Southgate to call his name, tell him to warm up - that he was going out there. For fucking England. His debut. The 26th of March, the date permanently on his right thigh. Even more surprising - he has cousins. Jamie assumes they're significantly younger than he is, given everything that had happened with Georgie. He doesn't even know his uncle's name - wouldn't know where to start looking even if he did want to meet him [ which he very much does not, thank you ]. Of course they knew that he was who he was - Georgie's boy, always Georgie's boy - because his name is Jamie fucking Tartt. It always comes back to that. No matter how hard Georgie tries to escape, her little boy will always carry that name, and, for those who knew Georgie Bolton, they could easily connect the dots to the footballer who looks to be about the age he'd be if Georgie Bolton kept James Tartt's baby. "They don't deserve you, Mummy. She never deserved you. And you deserved a fucking hug from your mum."
He hopes that they missed the match, when they were driving back to wherever the fuck they lived. Hopes that they didn't go to a beer garden to point at him on the screen as the commentators remarked on AFC Richmond's Jamie Tartt, winning his first cap for England. An unforgettable moment, and well-earned, to comment that he was their nephew, their grandson, their cousin. Well. Maybe not the kids. The kids didn't do what their dad did, what their grandmum did. But Georgie's mum and brother, they didn't deserve Jamie's fame. They especially don't deserve Georgie's love, forgiveness, or reconciliation [ in her fucking house, for Christ's sake. What an invasion ]. "I love you." He speaks plainly, now, wanting to be as clear as he can. "I love you, and I never needed anyone when I were growing up but you. Sure, we had the Davies lot and the Patels, and we had all the other neighbours who would come round to make sure I were okay when you were at work, but... in the end, it were you and me, and... I think we was happy, don't you...? Sure, there was some sad parts, and scary parts, and... bad parts. But, overall, I think we was happy. And now... you've got your Simon, and the bakery, and I've got my Keeley, and the Greyhounds, and... and Roy Kent, from the fucking poster. We're happy. I'm happy, Mummy, and I'll always do whatever I can to help you be happy, 'cause you gave me the happiest childhood a lad can have."
she thinks for a moment about all the moments her mother had missed, all the things she'd had to do alone - because who else was going to support her? james tartt? no. james tartt had waited for her to get priority housing before taking up permanent residence on her sofa, infiltrating her cupboards with his man city mugs and eating the groceries she'd had to work hard to buy ( working at mothercare right up until two weeks before her due date ). he'd had her under his thumb for a long while and she'd remained there if only because she wanted to give her little angel that typical family set-up: a loving mum, a caring father.. maybe a dog, someday. but james tartt didn't know the meaning of the word love. all he loved was the idea of using jamie to line his pockets, of the power he tried to hold over his son.. he only ever loved control.
his words make her heart lurch, soft eyes watery but fixed on him, on the baby she'd willingly left behind her family for, on the boy that she'd tried her best to give the best start in life, on the man he'd become, a hero to hundreds of thousands of people. not bad for a boy who grew up with a single mum on a council estate, eh? " oh, yes my baby. we were'appy. you made me the 'appiest mum around, you know that? i got told that i shouldn't praise you for everything when you was a toddler, but 'ow could i not? you was the best from even then. " she thinks about that, about his greyhounds, his keeley, her simon -- her simon who she loved so much it sometimes made her ache. the only person she'd ever loved as much as she loved her son. " i'm just glad i could give you that. " her lip wobbles, but she tries to hold it back, resting her forehead against his for a moment or two before sitting back and sighing.
" theo. that's y'uncle's name. funny -- you know what we called'im, growin' up? ted. " it makes her chuckle, a tear slipping down her cheek, " and he was my hero, god almighty. i used to get told off by 'is mates for trailing after 'im at school, but i thought he was the coolest thing goin'. he loved football, too. and he were named after m'dad, i were named after me mum. georgina. always hated that name, so i did. sounds like an old lady's name, don't it? " she gets lost in thought for a while, staring out of the window across the room, " you wanna know anythin' else? " georgie asks quietly, pressing her lips to the top of his head, " seein' as we're sayin' goodbye to the ghosts of manchester.. " she giggles a little, tickling him under his chin as she had so many times before.