"GIVE ME SWEET LIES, AND KEEP YOUR BITTER TRUTHS."
private roleplay blog for @circa204. do not interact if not part of the group.
MUSES
SER MATHOS TYRELL
intro | inspo
LADY TEORA LANNISTER
intro | inspo
divider: @bronzewasp
AnasAbdin
Today's Document
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Game of Thrones Daily

Love Begins

Janaina Medeiros
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Sweet Seals For You, Always

PR's Tumblrdome

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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izzy's playlists!
almost home
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

oozey mess

Product Placement
NASA

#extradirty
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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@diphylleial
"GIVE ME SWEET LIES, AND KEEP YOUR BITTER TRUTHS."
private roleplay blog for @circa204. do not interact if not part of the group.
MUSES
SER MATHOS TYRELL
intro | inspo
LADY TEORA LANNISTER
intro | inspo
divider: @bronzewasp
The elbow to his side elicited a wince, though undoubtedly Mathos Tyrell cared little about where his careless seating and poor posture landed him. Loren shifted in his seat so a few more inches of distance sat between them, and he was safe away from the risk of companionable claps or any other physical demonstrations of Tyrell's garrulity. "I don't think anybody would enjoy watching a weasel ahorse. They're bloodthirsty creatures even without such speed. A friend of yours?" he asked, scanning the field again until he caught the Varners' black and white. The lady was short, lithe, nearly disappearing behind her horse's head. "The race itself might be decided by what you say, but when the race begins, what will anybody be watching? The horses, or their riders' thinking?" he asked flatly, brows raised.
He looked at the wineskin, then back at its offerer. He had little fondness for wine, though he could on occasion appreciate a fine full-bodied gold. He doubted whatever lay inside this wineskin was either fine or full-bodied. “It is barely past noon.”
A strange sort of giddiness passes through his spine as the his fellow lord moves the slightest bit away from him, perhaps a type of thrill emerging from his poking of a sleeping lion. Rouse me not, He thinks to himself, then, No, that is House Grandison. This is hear me roar. Fun house words for such a boring, boring man. "You focus too much on the details, my lord. Though certainly, Lady Megga is a friend, in that everyone residing in the Reach has the pleasure of my friendship. I am certain you feel the same towards your own vassals, no?" Mathos does not recall seeing the man with anyone outside of House Lannister. How pitiful for him!
He shrugs as he pulls his wineskin back towards his chest, before raising it to tip it over into his mouth. His face immediately twists in displeasure; Dorne may now be considered friend rather than foe, but that does not mean they have to switch out all the wine in King's Landing! He coughs, once, twice, then takes another long swig, determined to figure out what spices were being used in the mix, but all he has to show for it is the shaking of his head as he lays the wineskin across his lap, mumbling, "You had the right of it, my lord." He allows the irritation to remain upon his face for only two moments more, before he breaks out into a grin, "Though, I do not agree with your supposition. I, for one, will most certainly be watching the riders." Though, perhaps not their thinking, exactly, but that is not for Lord Loren to know. "Will you not be participating in the events?"
Rosaline (2022) + Costumes
Juliet Capulet's red, grey, golden & white dress.
// requested by @minetteskvareninova
᯽♟isabela merced, female, she/her, twenty-four … #NOBLE // the seven beckon LADY TEORA LANNISTER toward them; a cowardly, lion of HOUSE LANNISTER. the seventh born lannister daughter feels their soul flay open just as judgement is shackling to a evasive nature, gripping it tightly as mercy fights with earnestness. traits guidance sees in the dreams of a rebellion with an accompaniment from strength and courage as they offer a pouch of gold, enough to buy any weapon she desires. all while innocence encapsulates memories of them — dresses of red and gold made of the softest fabrics; a drizzle of honey crawling down pursed lips; desire for more twisting your insides, leaving you constantly unsatisfied; the least worn item in a polished jewelry box — so they are remembered when the unknown flickers into view, dragging them towards their end, being found to be useless, insignificant.
who: open to all three ! [ 3 / 3 ] where: in the stands, during the horse races
A round of racing had just ended, and squires and groomsmen had taken over the field, aiding knights who ought to be capable of dismounting their own steeds; scrubbing clean armour and dust from eyes, calming the horses. Three had wandered close to the stands where Loren sat; from his high angle he could see the foam in their mouth, ruining what would otherwise be beauty with the lather. He pitied the creatures. One looked up as its groom attempted to remove the bit from its mouth, and locked eyes with Loren. If it were not a horse, he would think it a look of pained humiliation. He had never enjoyed being scrubbed down the neck from his own lather. Loren looked away and allowed the thing its privacy.
Preparation for the next race came to a close, and those that had wandered away for refreshment climbed into the stands once more. There are a dozen or more empty seats, he thought irritably, but somebody took the seat beside him regardless. Irritated, Loren inclined his head a few degrees in acknowledgement. In the field, a trumpet blared, and riders began to mount their steeds. The crowd cheered as Ser Connington, a favourite for the races, climbed on. Loren scoffed. "It is the horses we ought cheer for," he said idly. “Were they truly allowed to run fast as they could, the riders could do no more than hang on for life.”
The crowd cheers, and Mathos cheers with them as he makes his way across the stands. They are mostly empty, which is a shame, but a head of golden hair immediately catches his attention, and thus he has found his companion. He elegantly plops down in the seat next to the Lannister, as elegantly as one can, anyway, eyes already alight with amusement at the man's somber attitude. "And what fun is that, my lord?" His chuckle is loud, radiant, stopping once he notices a young maid of five and ten climbing her horse. "Why, if it isn't Lady Megga Varner! Have you ever seen a weasel ride?" He deliberately bumps an elbow shrouded in dark green silk against his companion's side as his other arm raises to wave at the girl when he catches her eye, though the touch is light. Just as he knows the names of most of the nobles within the Reach, he has enough information to get around the children of the great houses. No use in creating enemies, right?
"They can roam free outside of events. We are here to regard the riders' control and quick thinking. What am I to do when a horse wins a race of its own merit? Does House Lannister offer its horses pouches of coin to feed on?" He holds up the wineskin he'd purchased from outside the stands, "Have the first sip, my lord?"
𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 — 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈𝘓𝘓.
aselle was delighted to find that there was dancing at the end of the celebrations. however, this was different from the prospect of actually participating in said dancing. although she had insisted upon an entire trunk of slippers in the event that she had danced so much that she wore out the bottoms of her shoes, the youngest dayne had yet to take a single step out into the merriment — too awkward to step out by herself, too apprehensive to soothe herself into the idea of it.
embarrassed, aselle gives a sheepish laugh. she clings tightly to the gild of her goblet, her mighty shield filled with apple cider. more to herself than anyone else, she muses aloud, "as they often say, first step is always the most difficult. though, the second and third are rather scary too, i find."
There is no use in lying to himself; the merriment has, as is its wont, affected him, seeped into his bones, caught fire to the dregs of what happens now? and what must I do? and who must I become, in this new era? that linger about his mind like gnats. Nothing remains in his mind but a restless humming, spurred on by the three....four....five? goblets of...Well, he is not quite certain what it was, certainly nothing as good as what they make in the Reach, but strong enough that he has no reasonable complaints to make.
He is, after a brief respite, steps away from leaping into the crowd of dancers, when a voice reaches his ears from down, down below. Surprise clouds his features, eyebrows raised, mouth falling into a slight o. She is a small thing, this lady, and Seven knows how her voice, soft and sweet, had managed to carry over the crowd and reach his ears. "A lady so fair need not concern herself with how to join a dance. I am quite certain lords and ladies aplenty would cherish a spin with you. Allow me to demonstrate," He angles his body in her direction, bows deep, extending an arm so that she pay press her hand into his own. "Will you give me the honor of a dance, my lady?" His grin is wide, his hair falling in dark waves across the ruffled, light green collar of his tunic, eyes glimmering under the hundreds of candles that light up the dance floor.
Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals
HIGHGARDEN, The Reach
Highgarden is a castle which serves as the seat of House Tyrell, the regional capital of the Reach, and the heart of chivalry in the Seven Kingdoms. It lies on the Mander where the ocean road meets the roseroad, making it an important crossroads.
Chai Hansen as Tim Ahern.
THE NEWSREADER 3.03 BEHIND THE FRONT LINE
❁♞chai hansen, male, he/him, thirty-three … #NOBLE // the seven beckon LORD MATHOS TYRELL toward them; a golden, dancer of HOUSE TYRELL. the heir to highgarden feels their soul flay open just as judgement is shackling to a crafty nature, gripping it tightly as mercy fights with spiritedness. traits guidance sees in the dreams of a rebellion with an accompaniment from strength and courage as they offer a saber, curved and delicate, with a golden handle on one end, and a touch of venom on the other. all while innocence encapsulates memories of them — tourney crowns of molten gold, peacock feathered fans flaming years old rivalries, bundles of hemlock dotting the altar of the mother, laughing knights riding through endless mazes — so they are remembered when the unknown flickers into view, dragging them towards their end, death. just death. anything else, he is certain he can bear for the world is not so harsh. death, though, is unknown.
𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧! By clicking THIS LINK you will be directed to 330 gifs of Chai Hansen from Shadowhunters season 3. If you’re interested in commissioning me, you can view the information here. If you like these, please consider tipping me!
— Chai Hansen in The Newsreader
Click the SOURCE LINK and you will find #382 gifs of Thai-Australian actor CHAI HANSEN (b. 1989) in his role as Tim Ahern in The Newsreader (2021-). All gifs were created from scratch by me, so please do not claim as your own, re-post, use in edits, or add to gif hunts. Like or reblog if you found this helpful!