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Today's Document
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
d e v o n
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Interview Vampire Daily
macklin celebrini has autism
ellievsbear
Cosimo Galluzzi
Color Me Curious
Game of Thrones Daily
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
I'd rather be in outer space πΈ
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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@halfgigas
#HALFGIGAS. PRIVATE PORTRAYAL OF SER DUNCAN THE TALL FROM GEORGE R. R. MARTIN'S A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS SET WITHIN THE WORLD OF ICE AND FIRE WITH SECONDARY ALTERNATIVE SETTINGS IN TOLKIEN'S MIDDLE EARTHοΌFAERΓNοΌTHEDASοΌARTHURIANA AND MYTHοΌKINGDOM COME: DELIVERANCEοΌELDEN RINGοΌAND THE WITCHER AVAILABLE. TWENTY ONE PLUS.
#LINKS. GUIDELINESοΌ DOSSIERοΌ PROMPTSοΌ MULTIMUSE.
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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hiatus of sorts because i want to write dearly but it is not happening on the dash so definitely feel free to ask for my discord whether it's to write or to chat! i'll be still checking the dash every now and again because all of my beloved mutuals are here and i want to see what you're creating + i'll probably send in memes if i happen to catch them. MWAH.
π³ A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.01
Peter Claffey as Joe Walsh BAD SISTERS 2.01 βGood Sistersβ
"tracy is often unhappy and has problems with her behaviour because she is lonely, frustrated, and feels unloved. tracy lives in a children's residential care home where she has been placed as a result ofΒ neglectΒ andΒ domestic violence" / "she seems to miss her mum a lot and it results in her sitting by the same window hoping her mum would come and pick her up" / "tracy's imaginative stories seem to provide a high level of comfort and security for her. a recurring story that tracy likes to tell is that her mother is a glamorousΒ hollywood movie star, and that she is coming to collect her someday." modern duncan reading the story of tracy beaker as a child and finding solace in it because it was the only fictional story he ever found that was similar to his own life as a neglected child in the foster system. sorry.
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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Wreck 1.03
HEADCANONΒ Β -Β Β HEAVYΒ Β &&Β Β personalΒ Β portrayalΒ Β ofΒ Β theΒ Β πͺπ¬π²π±π₯Β Β π¬π£Β Β π°ππ²π―π¬π«Β Β fromΒ Β tolkien'sΒ Β legendarium
est.Β Β sometimeΒ Β inΒ Β 2017Β Β byΒ Β JESTER!Β Β (Β Β formerlyΒ Β onΒ Β putrid-tongueΒ Β ) semiΒ Β selectiveΒ Β &&Β Β mediumΒ Β toΒ Β irregularΒ Β activity bookΒ Β ,Β Β movieΒ Β andΒ Β ropΒ Β friendlyΒ Β βΒ Β openΒ Β toΒ Β ocsΒ Β andΒ Β crossovers!
OFFERINGΒ Β VERSESΒ Β inΒ Β soulsborne,Β Β theΒ Β elderΒ Β scrollsΒ Β ,Β Β dragonΒ Β ageΒ Β ,Β Β gotΒ Β ,Β Β modernΒ Β timesΒ Β (Β Β regularΒ Β &Β Β supernaturalΒ Β )Β Β &&Β Β historicalΒ Β medievalΒ Β times
shouldΒ Β youΒ Β beΒ Β unableΒ Β toΒ Β findΒ Β infoΒ Β onΒ Β aΒ Β verseΒ Β ,Β Β pleaseΒ Β feelΒ Β freeΒ Β toΒ Β askΒ Β meΒ Β aboutΒ Β it!
21Β Β +Β Β onlyΒ Β (Β Β munΒ Β isΒ Β approachingΒ Β 30Β Β )Β Β ,Β Β triggeringΒ Β andΒ Β darkΒ Β themesΒ Β willΒ Β beΒ Β exploredΒ Β withΒ Β emphasisΒ Β onΒ Β gothicΒ Β horror.Β Β iΒ Β doΒ Β operateΒ Β aΒ Β commonΒ Β tagΒ Β systemΒ Β ,Β Β ifΒ Β youΒ Β needΒ Β somethingΒ Β taggedΒ Β feelΒ Β freeΒ Β toΒ Β reachΒ Β out.
seeΒ Β myΒ Β pinnedΒ Β forΒ Β myΒ Β carrdΒ Β andΒ Β moreΒ Β information.Β Β discordΒ Β availableΒ Β toΒ Β mutuals!
EXPLORINGΒ Β THEMESΒ Β OFΒ Β ...Β Β theΒ Β monsterΒ Β ,Β Β lossΒ Β ofΒ Β moraleΒ Β andΒ Β oneselfΒ Β ,Β Β theΒ Β meansΒ Β justifyingΒ Β theΒ Β endΒ Β ,Β Β achingΒ Β forΒ Β humanityΒ Β ,Β Β catharsisΒ Β overΒ Β escapismΒ Β ,Β Β aΒ Β spaceΒ Β forΒ Β theΒ Β grotesqueΒ Β andΒ Β theΒ Β horrificΒ Β ,Β Β psychologicalΒ Β suspenseΒ Β ,Β Β intenseΒ Β physicality
"Don't all knights make the same oath?" PETER CLAFFEY as SER DUNCAN THE TALL A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.04
my most controversial rp take right now is that people on tumblr are so allergic to confrontation and have wrapped themselves up in the 'i don't owe anyone anything' mentality they've deluded themselves out of personal responsibility to their fellow writers to simply communicate and take into account how their avoidance will affect other people.
IS THIS REALLY THE WORLD? SHALL I GRIEVE? SHALL I HOPE? / an independent & mutually exclusive AEGON ' EGG ' TARGARYEN by birdie ( Β© )
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King Baelor and his Lord Commander Ser Duncan the Tall
π ππ π₯ππ ππππͺ ππ£π¦π ππ π ππ ππ§ππ£ βππ
Indie and Selective Cersei Lannister written as a transman by a transman named Lee. AU Heavy and Focused
does dunk know that he is adored by anne endlessly? π€
but the real question is does anne know that she is adored by dunk endlessly? π€π€
BABY REINDEER (2024) Episode 6
β β β β β β β β β my ser, says the lad, whose slaying left lyonel bereft a fine man and won him but a boy with hair of burnished copper now blackened with muck and blood and rainwater and a freckle'd face beaten black and blue gone to yellow but a mighty thing, verily, broad of shoulder and thigh, too, as betray the sodden breeches plastered to plump flesh to the older man's errant eye. a fair sight he makes beneath the swelling. vulture king and red mountains, and i was only a boy then. " you are a boy yet. " lyonel declares to the lad who'd journeyed the stormlands battling no king but a dornish cunt with his wits melted from sun, and crouches with a hoarse sound, elbows set against the knees. " a simple one, i hear. the lad talks to them hounds like they've a mind to talk back, my kennelkeeper tells me. " his features pinch faint, wry. " what do they tell you? that the i've been shorting them on meat? "
β β β β β β β β β has not lost use of his tongue, the pup sorely punished has, nor is he worrying the fleshy hollow of an absent tooth, yet reaches lyonel forth all the same and hooks a thumb beneath the velvet of a cheek, stretches the flesh to bare a crescent of ivory teeth on one side, then another. had not spared a maester but left the lad to bleed beneath the naked skies, lyonel had, but comes coy in monfryd's stead, peering past the split lips as though measuring a mare and finding no breach nor loss nor rot; but gently, this once. he fetches a smack on a cheek, knuckles yet ruddy from the hammering of a cheekbone wrought of iron, and cackles dry. " teeth like a mule's, eh? " the wineskin points to the squire, drink sloshing within. " had i known you're more horse than man, i'd have brought a leash instead of a dagger. " had hardly bloodied the blade, though. had wrought the damage with his fists alone.
β β β β β β β β β a grimace as eyes of amber stray aside to the rutted mire riven by paws and heavy bodies, a bed befitting a half-wit cunt. he tips back the wineskin and takes a lavish drought, sweeps the back of a hand across his mouth. " i'll get 'em out of your thick skull eventually, pup. "
β β β β β β you are a boy yet, says the bastard lord. "i'm no boy. i'm one and twenty." but no man grown is he, no, but a boy overgrown and a squire overgrown, too, and a simple one, talking to the hounds. what do they tell you? and with anger and animosity does dunk's face flush. a boy and a squire overgrown, aye, and thick as a castle wall and slow as an aurochs, but no fool who thinks animals could talk. "dogs take to bein' talked to. horses, too. all animals do." he thinks then of ser arlan's horses, of thunder and chestnut and sweetfoot, and what had become of them. he doesn't ask. "don't think they'll talk back." too afraid of the answer, he is.
β β β β β β and there's lyonel's hand again, fish hooking into flesh to observe and study teeth as though not a man he were and neither a stallion but a mare to be sold to a lady, a pretty palfrey with pretty teeth pearlescent and nary a one missing; strong as a mule's, they are. he blinks away tears of pain, for soft and oddly gentle the lord's studying had been but the smack to the bruised cheek not so. he grunts. "m'glad it pleases you, m'lord, that i've the teeth of a mule." that he's more horse than man, that he ought to be leashed as he is now; no pretty palfrey with pretty teeth pearlescent and nary a one missing but a work horse with teeth too strong to be knocked loose from a kick, and kicked he shall be.
β β β β β β i'll get 'em out of your thick skull eventually. his teeth. his eyes. his thoughts of his ser, rotting in the muck and the mire of the riverlands. may get his teeth and his eyes, aye, but hounded 'til the end of time he'll be by his ser and plagued by thoughts of wild dogs tearing apart his body. "but what d'you want from me? i'm another mouth to feed. you ought to kill me an' leave my body to the dogs, or put me to work so i'll earn m'keep." or let me go, he thinks, eyeing the bastard's blade sheathed by his side, but he's nowhere near quick enough. he's quiet then, idly dragging the toe of his shoe through the mire as a horse would its hoof.
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π A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.01
β β β β β β β β β shared more than the field of battle and wine, lyonel and the man now butchered by a mewling pup did. shared many a night, too, abed and naked as their name day. a hound of a man he'd been, a savage thing and a brute of battle besides, sworn loyal to lyonel these half-dozen years; but no beast broken to the leash but ever yapping as the boy knelt afore the storm lord, retching blood and bile.
β β β β β β β β β with eyes of the summer sea azure against the lustrous blood the boy stares back, and then looses a mouthful of red on a stubbled cheek. a dog half-compliant and fearful of the boot he apologizes, m'lord lyonel, but not fearful enough, and a storm is the lord lyonel's wrath, swift to burst with a red-knuckled fist slamming into the twice and now thrice beaten cheekbone. and unfrightened of spittle and blood he wretches the lad upward by a fistful of sweat-matted hair and a bone-tight clasp on a bruised jaw and presses nigh, brow to brow and nose to nose. " fierce for a cunt who failed the man he served, aren't you? " took jerren, the craven did, the selfsame jerren lyonel'd kissed hotter than any maiden and carved through him as a swine. not at the whelp but across at a man of his own lyonel then thunders, the squire thrust aside. " how does a half-wit cunt crawl past our sentries? how does a boy kill an armed fucking man? huh? " snarls and barks and bristles at the knight stood mute as the men beside him, 'til the matter is exhausted. " go. fuck off. sorry breed of fucking fools with milk for blood. " and scowling, waves toward the wreck of a squire. " to the kennels with the riverman's bitch. "
β β β β β β β β β a sennight and more wanes ere lyonel sees him again. the kennel is a fenced yard of stone and timber pens to shelter the hounds from the rain stood behind the barracks, holding beasts fed on stale bread and strips of blackened meat and gristle and offal and bone. and fed thus is one pup, too, chained to a stone rail and left to sit beneath the pouring sky. young and hoary with mist the dawn breaks, earth yet sodden with the night's rain and the baying beasts unleashed to the hunt when lyonel comes, a waxed wineskin of arbor red in hand striding through the softened mud and glistening greensward. " a fair morn, isn't it? " he stands before him, cocks his head. " fine rain. could've used more of it. ever been to the stormlands, pup? the rains there scour the skin off a man's back. "
β β β β β β and neither does the third strike loosen teeth nor does the third strike break an o'erwrought cheekbone. thankfully, the beaten and bruised hedge knight, truly no hedge knight at all but beaten and bruised in truth, tonguing his bloodied teeth thinks, though deserved it was, that third strike, and left dunk boneless to be wrenched and wrested 'bout. (no teeth loosened but bruised to the bone, dunk's cheekbone ought to be by now by lyonel's fist with knuckles surely bruised to the bone, too, and as bloodied as dunk's teeth.) fierce for a cunt who failed the man he served, wrenched and wrested 'bout then thrust aside he is. half wit cunt and an armed fucking man and get up ring loud, terribly loud, in dunk's ears, but all dunk thinks of are the bastard lord's eyes, gold as the sun they are. (gold as the baratheons.) get up, his ser in his head says again, get up.
β β β β β β he doesn't.
β β β β β β in the kennels with the dogs for a sennight and more does the hedge knight lie, the dog knight now more like, and better company are the curs than the bastard's boys, aye. slept in the filth of flea bottom's wynds and alleys with dogs before and cats, too, and cows and sheep and horses. with rats in cellars sometimes, too, and smuggling tunnels. 'tis nothing to dunk then, sleeping 'mongst the dogs, though ne'er before's he been a tethered beast left to the rain. 'least he reeks less, he thinks, leering with a thirst the wineskin in the bastard lord's hand. fair morn, the lord says, fine rain, then of the stormlands and the scouring rains there does the lord speak. the lord's home by birthright, the stormlands, were he not a bastard.
β β β β β β "not for long, no," dunk says, with a voice neither rough nor calloused with disuse for to the dogs had dunk spoken for a sennight, "my ser and i, we were once in the service of house dondarrion, in the battle against the vulture king in the red mountains. i was only a boy then butβ" the bastard cares not to hear tales of dead men. he swallows, ducks his head. his cheekbone, the sickly yellow of a healing bruise, aches. "βwe traveled through the stormlands, aye."
