[motherrthing]

i like to imagine ser donnel calling a meeting of the kingsguard (before dunk is one of them) to discuss the dunk/baelor situation bc baelor needs to stop slipping away from his guard to go hook up with dunk

and they do this little exchange of words, but when he asks "who guards the king" everyone at the same time is like "ser duncan" with the most annoyed groans

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The memories come back to him like a blow to his head. The shouts of the slavers as they realised there was a fleet of ships hailing them. The terror on their faces even as they’d come bursting into his cell intent on beating him into the floorboards. Their frantic commands that he tell them that he was nothing but a criminal, waiting to die. The pain of their blows as they struck, reopening wounds that had only just started to close, jostling others that hadn’t yet even ceased to bleed. They’d spent the last few weeks commanding him to say that he was nothing but a slave, and whipping, cutting, punching, kicking, hurting him when he refused. Whose fault is it if he’d gotten… a little confused and admitted to the giant Pirate King that he was a slave, or about to become one, anyway? They hadn’t broken him yet, and with those few, short words, they never would.

Note the tags for this one, guys.

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A wild Summerstorm appears...

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I like to call this chapter 'the angst fest'

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[itellyouthisisnottheend]

omg new house tour??

come on, move your feet

shameless smut alert!

Dunk is coming home, and Baelor cannot wait.

(Baelor's inability to stay still is driving his family insane. Dunk makes him.)

[motherrthing]

♻️❤️ for the wip ask!

heyyyyy i love this question

so, in sign of the times, i was going to make baelor and dunk have a massive blow out argument right before the battle starts. like bordering on unforgivable levels of arguing.

i feel like ive got dunk hanging on by a thread, and pretty much his love for baelor is the only thing keeping him going, so i was going to just cut that last thread and see what happens.

honestly part of me thinks that's the direction the story is meant to go, but it was making me too sad, so i cut it.

[motherrthing]

Ask game! 🖍️❤️

ooooh okay im cheating and im doing more than a sentence from the robin hood dunk au, in which dunk is committing crimes he doesn't even know are crimes, and baelor is totally not stressing about it

[motherrthing]

🍄Decriscribe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

okay for this one ill refer to my current favorite wip which is the oneshot of extreme yearning and ill say olivia rodrigo's stupid song + a coronation = dunk yearning level one thousand, which i realize doesn't make a ton of sense but in my mind all the pieces are there

a story id love to write is one of the first posts i ever made on here, but it was basically that instead of bloodraven showing up to kill the second blackfyre rebellion at whitewalls, it's baelor, who has been presumed by the realm, and nobody is really sure how he's alive

edited to add, i want a green knight inspired au so bad. so so so so bad. i think that would work better as dunk/lyonel, if dunk is meant to be sir gawain, but if is was dunk/baelor id make dunk the green knight and baelor sir gawain

[motherrthing]

1 and 11 :)

for #1 my most prized wip at the moment is called "heart made of wax", but unfortunately she's a long way away from being anything 😭

for something im struggling with in a wip, at the end of the little "brave as baelor breakspear" collection im having a hard time figuring out where it goes next, bc i left off with the "I think more than you can possibly imagine", so like...now i have to address that situation and im trying not to get like overly schmoopy in the characterization, for lack of a better way to put it, but also im like someone plz hold dunk and tell him that he's good, so just trying to find a balance there

[motherrthing]

🤡 for the ask game!

so this is a little complicated bc sometimes i write things with no intentions to continue them, but then later i get another idea

this is everything im currently working on that i would like to become actual fics instead of just bits and pieces, listed in order of how close they are to actually getting there (below the cut bc the list is long)

sign of the times - dunk and baelor fight a battle against terrible odds

as brave as baelor breakspear - dunks first real battle, before and after

my kingdom for a horse - evil horse: origins

seven lances - everyone lives nothing bad ever happens in westeros, hot old man baelor who just wants to joust

robin hood dunk au - dunk runs instead of fighting the trial of seven, becomes a bandit, kidnaps a prince

the one where the trial of seven never happens - dunk gets to joust and challenges valarr

the one where the trial of seven does happen but both valarr and baelor fight - as described

untitled baelor gives dunk a new horse fic - what it says on the tin

one night i was bored in bed - modern au dunk looks baelor up on the internet and finds out that a lot of people are interested in his man

heart made of wax (melting in the sun) - one shot of extreme yearning

i can't tell you if i like it - based on the long ass write up i did of baelor being the more inexperienced one in the relationship

[motherrthing]

For the WIP meme - 4 and 5!

okay so for an alternative title, the robinhood dunk au would be called "eatin' big time", from the tyler childers song of the same name. i think the vibe of the song really fits what im trying to do with that fic.

as for what wip im most likely to update next, i think ill probably post more of the black beauty inspired horse pov on monday, and hopefully also by monday ill have cleaned up the little collection that started with the "as brave as baelor breakspear" bit, and add some details here and there so that it reads more like a whole fic instead of three separate pieces, and get that posted to ao3!

[room-on-broom]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

I am also procrastinating actually writing. If you’ve multiple works in progress you can give a different answer every time!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

🍄Decriscribe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Enjoy!

[dogpuppy]

[motherrthing]

proof of life from sign of the times

(trying this again bc it posted all jank the first time)

a month ago i said i was a bees dick away from finishing this, but some bees dicks are bigger than others bc im still not done

thinking ill have to go back and retcon some things to get the story back on track, but until then here's the beginning of chapter three

Neither of them spoke when they entered the tent. It was a familiar stalemate, neither one of them was particularly free with apologies, at least not ones spoken. Dunk was too stubborn, Baelor too princely. I will not apologize. Not for this, Dunk thought. Maybe it would be the smart thing to do; to go to one knee and beg Baelor's pardon, and lay the blame on Ser Donnel. He wouldn't do that. It was ill done to conceive of the plan behind Baelor's back, that much was true, but the idea itself was sound enough and Dunk had told Ser Donnel that he would at least try to convince Baelor.

After long enough had passed that it was clear Dunk was not going to break first, Baelor spoke. “I can not run from this Duncan, you must understand that.”

He did not sound angry. Dunk had been prepared for that, had been prepared to argue. He didn’t know what to do with the pleading tone Baelor used, like he was begging Dunk to understand. Baelor did not beg, he rarely even asked. Commanding came to him as easily as breathing, Dunk knew. Yet this was unmistakable. What was unspoken was still clear enough; don’t have us fight again, not now.

“Maybe I'm as thick as everyone tells me, but I don't understand it.” Dunk said. A lie. He did understand, at least logistically, that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ser Donnel had made it out to be, even for just Baelor and his guard. It was certainly possible though. And what Dunk truly didn’t understand was why Baelor was determined to dismiss the idea outright, why he was so eager to charge into a battle they were almost certain to lose.

“How many men do you think will still follow me when they find out that I left them to die? That I ran like a whipped dog while they fought for me. We are already losing this war, I can not afford to lose any more support.”

“It won't matter how much support you have because you'll be dead,” Dunk said, perhaps more bluntly than he had intended it.

“No,” Baelor said. He was not pleading anymore, now that Dunk had started this Baelor was all cool logic; reducing the problem to its simplest notes, devoid of any emotion, a tacticians mind. It served him well on the battlefield, but it drove Dunk mad when it was used against him. “That is when it will matter most of all. This war does not end with me. If I die, these men must fight for Matarys.”

Matarys, a second son who was never meant to be king. Who had been hidden away on Dragonstone for most of the war. Who had never won any great victories, or proved his valor in battle. Who was not well known by the men, not loved and respected the way Baelor was. It would have to be Baelor’s legacy that inspired these men to keep fighting. It didn’t have to come to that though, not if Baelor would just see sense.

“And if you die and the war is still lost? What good will it have done then?” Dunk asked.

“No good at all, but it is a risk I am willing to take.”

“Does your own life mean so little to you?”

“It is not for me to decide what my life is worth-”

“I swear Baelor if you start talking about the fucking seven right now-” Dunk snapped, but was cut off before he could finish.

“It is not about the Gods, it is about duty.”

“Oh fuck your duty.”

“Really?” Baelor was unimpressed. Somehow, his lack of reaction made Dunk even angrier. He wanted an argument now, though he could not explain why.

“Yes. I do not care about your duty, I care about your life. I would walk Bittersteel to the Iron Throne myself if it meant your life.”

“The only way I can escape this war with my life is if we win. We cannot win if Bittersteel holds Crackclaw point. The only way we even have a hope of preventing that is to win this battle, and pray that Dyre Den and Salt Stone don’t fall. That is our only hope at survival. You know as well as I do there will be no mercy for me and my family if we lose. Bittersteel will rip out House Targaryen root and stem. So if you wish to protect me, help me get my armor on.”

It was clear that in Baelor’s mind, that was the last word on the subject.

“Truly, this is the only way?” Dunk asked. “Not the only way you like, or the best way. It is our only option?”

“I would not lie to you.” Baelor said, and Dunk knew it was true.

“Do you believe we can win this?”

There was a long pause, which did not bring Dunk any comfort. “Battles have been won against worse odds.” Baelor said. It was not an answer, not truly, but it told Dunk what he needed to know all the same.

“Right. Well.” Dunk said. The last vestiges of his anger withered away, replaced by a dull resignation. “Armor it is then.”

Their armor was in a pair of heavy wooden chests, which Baelor must have started unpacking while Dunk was talking to the other kingsguard; a few pieces were already tossed on the bed. Dunk quickly finished unpacking the rest of it, while Baelor dressed in his arming doublet, and started to work on his greaves. The fastenings were tricky to do for oneself though, and wouldn't catch.

Dunk lightly swatted his hands out of the way, “Let me do it,” he said. He doubted Baelor had armored himself in the last ten years, maybe ever. A Prince would have always had a squire, or more likely two as he did now. It wouldn't do for Baelor to die because he had put his own armor on improperly.

He took the piece from Baelor, knelt in front of him and pressed the armor into place around his calf. The stud found the opening easily, and clicked into place with a metallic snick. Dunk repeated the process on Baelor’s other leg. It was easy to fall into the old routine, even one ten years in the past. Baelor’s hand came to rest on Dunk’s head, fingers tangled in his hair. That never used to be part of the routine. Dunk closed his eyes for a brief second, and let himself imagine that the messenger had never come. That he was still sitting at Baelor’s side, his Prince stroking his hair, everything blessedly calm. They used to spend hours like that on quiet evenings in Baelor's solar, Dunk dozing off while Baelor finished his work for the day. If he thought about it too much, the longing became an almost physical sensation, heavy in his chest.

“You’ll distract me if you do that,” Dunk said. The hand went away without a word. He could not allow himself that sort of comfort now. He could not be Duncan, in the honey sweet way Baelor said his name when they were alone together. He needed to be Dunk, the squire, who had put on his Ser’s armor a thousand times, who had quick deft hands, who was not slow and clumsy with want. And after that, he would need to be Ser Duncan, a knight of the kingsguard, who fought without fear to protect his prince. There was no place for Duncan here.

“I am sorry to reduce you to the role of a squire,” Baelor said. Dunk wondered if after all these years Baelor still did not realize the hold he had on Dunk, that there was nothing Baelor could ask of him that he would not do.

“I am reduced to nothing, not if it's for you.” Dunk said.

Baelor's hand twitched minutely, as if he had wanted to touch Dunk again, but had restrained himself.

Dunk forced himself back to work. Cuisses next. He pointedly did not let his hands linger on Baelor’s thighs as he did up the buckles, and secured the laces to the arming doublet.

“You have been good to me Duncan.” Baelor said. “Better than I have deserved.”

It sounded like the beginning of a goodbye. Dunk let the words wash over him, tried not to linger on them. He worked his way up Baelor's body.

“I haven't told you, not properly, what you mean to me. But it does not escape me that this might be the last chance I get.”

No, Baelor had never told him, not in words. But that wasn't their way. Baelor had all his courtly graces and fine words, but he did not use them for Dunk, who did not care for such things. Baelor had shown him though, from the very beginning, had never allowed Dunk to have any doubt that his place was at Baelor's side. [words words words]

Baelor started to speak again, but Dunk stopped him. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, “I can’t hear that right now.” Each word Baelor spoke pulled Dunk farther away from where his mind needed to be; drew him down a winding path of thoughts and memories, none of which were useful, all of which made his heart start racing, made his skin feel too tight, made him feel vaguely ill.

“Tell me after.” Dunk said. That was better, after was a promise that they would both survive long enough for Dunk to hear it. Baelor pursed his lips unhappily, but was silent after that.

[peachdaes]

sleepy Baelor

[keltbh]

[nonlynear]

my high horse is actually awesome and fast like the wind

[sapphling]

hey dude, idk how much you remember from the party last night but- yeah, everyone saw your want. yeah no it was pretty late and winding down so it was quiet enough that every single person there saw it throbbing and twitching in your chest and so wet with hunger it was glistening under the kitchen light. they said it looked like it was reaching for something

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The memories come back to him like a blow to his head. The shouts of the slavers as they realised there was a fleet of ships hailing them. The terror on their faces even as they’d come bursting into his cell intent on beating him into the floorboards. Their frantic commands that he tell them that he was nothing but a criminal, waiting to die. The pain of their blows as they struck, reopening wounds that had only just started to close, jostling others that hadn’t yet even ceased to bleed. They’d spent the last few weeks commanding him to say that he was nothing but a slave, and whipping, cutting, punching, kicking, hurting him when he refused. Whose fault is it if he’d gotten… a little confused and admitted to the giant Pirate King that he was a slave, or about to become one, anyway? They hadn’t broken him yet, and with those few, short words, they never would.

Note the tags for this one, guys.

[thranduilland]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A wild Summerstorm appears...