Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Acquired Stardust
JBB: An Artblog!
No title available
shark vs the universe
h
No title available
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
tumblr dot com
#extradirty
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
pixel skylines
No title available
will byers stan first human second
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Keni
art blog(derogatory)
Product Placement
KIROKAZE
DEAR READER
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from Iraq
seen from Belgium
seen from Singapore
seen from Spain
seen from Iraq
seen from Iraq
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from Spain
@sunsetelm
Independent roleplay blog for Ser Duncan the Tall of Tales of Dunk and Egg / A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, compliant to novella and show. Writer is 21+ and a staunch anti-anti / pro-shipper; please hardblock me if this is an issue.
NAV ✧ rules, about, threads, memes, art credit. CASTMATES ✧ @crownburdened, @draeggon, @dragonxwed, @heterochromiadragon, @ironanvil, @sigilstag, @staffdestroyed, @vvindicated.
❝ the world is so big. why do i never feel like i fit into it? ❞
@heterochromiadragon, it's all about the yearning.
Dunk's answer is swift, almost casual-- "Must you?"
He catches himself after he's said it, though, and has enough awareness to look apologetic for it. He can't pretend to know the duties of princehood-- Egg doesn't like talking about it, after all-- and recognises he might have spoken out of turn.
"I... beggin' your pardons, m'lord, but might be that the top of Aegon's Hill isn't where you're meant to be. As with Egg and Summerhall."
He looks over his shoulder to where the boy sleeps, curled up on the featherbed and drooling out the mouth. Dunk had opted to sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed instead of a separate room; with all the vipers that lived in King's Landing, he wouldn't put it past anyone to try and hurt his squire. Egg was too young to worry about things like that on his own.
The whispers he's heard about Valarr and his inheritance of the throne tell him enough of this horrid place all the same. It's why he'd presented his plan to him this evening: that they could steal away with the crown prince in the night, and take him on the road where the only danger would be outlaws instead of his own small court. Were devils not easier dealt with when you saw them plain, instead of hidden behind finery and power?
"I haven't told Egg about any of this," Dunk says, looking back to where Valarr sits in his wheelchair by the hearth, "but I think you'd be safer away from here. And I know-- I know you were raised for this..." This meaning the crown and everything that came with it. "...but you're not truly happy here, are you?"
Danez Smith, Don't Call Us Dead
❝ sometimes i feel i’m being crushed under the weight of everything i’ll never be. ❞
@bratheon, it's all about the yearning.
Cheeks dusted with the pink of good wine, Dunk looks at Lyonel with a light furrow of his brows. It feels, almost, like he'd misheard him-- only moments earlier the lord had been laughing and grinning, after all-- but the swim of his head isn't bad enough to make him believe he'd imagine anything. Especially with the way Lyonel looks at him now.
Dunk swallows. "Ser?"
His bottom lip is dry when he swipes his tongue over it. Despite the noise surrounding them (it's a feast, after all, and Dunk is lucky to have been invited; Egg called him a fool for thinking Lyonel could truly hate him for not swearing to be his bannerman, and Dunk can only agree now), he cares more about Lyonel than anything that could be happening in Storm's End's Great Hall. He doesn't think about reputation, nor gossip, nor the possibility of being seen, and his hand drops between them to rest firmly on Lyonel's thigh.
The act, when viewed alone, is inappropriate. Dunk's touch is more concerned than charged, though, and he frowns as he leans in to scrutinise Lyonel's expression properly. Even with his face halfway to flushed, Dunk's concern is clear-- he cares little for propriety when it seems one of his most cherished friends has disappeared on him.
"Lyonel." His tone has gone firm, too, in some attempt to pull Lyonel's head from wherever it might have floated. "Oi. Where've you gone?"
The pup was new, and strangely composed of flesh, and too delicate to be playing the way it was fond of. Yet, as Quill enjoyed the warmth of laying out in the grass in the summer evening, the little thing unlatched itself and stumbled toward Dunk. Its big, watery eyes stared blearily at the knight, half - seeing, while it's milk - white mouth opened and closed. Quill pulled himself up to watch, unable to help his soft bark of amusement.
Suddenly, the pup lurched forward, bumping its wrinkled muzzle into the toe of Dunk's boot. How impressive ! How fearsome ! The pup moved with such force that it accidentally rolled itself over, yipping for help.
@mycursedcaptain, unprompted.
It was Egg's soft complaint that had Dunk looking away from where he was giving Thunder a good brush, his voice sounding small as he whined, "Eugh, ser..."
And so Dunk turned, and sure enough there was little Moon, making her way towards him with determination on her wretched face. He glanced quickly in Midnight's direction, making sure Mother was allowing her child to play, and then laughed when the puppy fell over-- poor thing.
"Doesn't matter how much you whinge about it" -- Dunk crouched, but instead of picking Moon up, he tickled her belly to get her leg kicking -- "all babies are ugly in some way, Egg. I bet you were right rancid, too."
"But I didn't look like that, ser, I'm sure!"
"Even if you did, your mother and father would've loved you. As we ought to love Moony."
Using two hands, he lifted the pup up in the air, squinting at her mouth.
"Pay him no mind, yeah?" Dunk kissed the top of her head. "He's just jealous he's not the baby any more."
"I am not!"
"Aye, he is. Else he wouldn't be so mean, now, would he, Midnight?"
decided that paul blart mall cop is dunk's best friend in modern verse. they just Get each other
@thecoiiective ( sansa ), continued.
"We're north of Moat Cailin, that's for certain," Dunk says.
"Few hours away from Winterfell, most like?"
His head tilts slightly to the side. The words are less of a question and more his attempts to align his thoughts to reality. Dunk shrugs, deciding it doesn't matter when they're trapped anyway, and continues to stroke poor Whippet's face and neck as her tail flicks in discomfort.
The horse is a hardy one, but storms always make her nervous. This one, made of snow and cruel cold, is even worse than thunder and lightning. Dunk likes to imagine it's innate animal instinct-- the North's full of danger, made even worse with winter just on the verge of arriving-- but just because he's got some idea of her problems doesn't make him any less determined to help the girl feel better.
He presses his brow to the horse's, nuzzles her gently, and feels Whippet's muscles relax at the same time she snorts. A few more scratches and a quiet "good, yeah? Best girl" later, he finally steps away, picking up his sword where he'd left it on a bale of hay. Sitting himself on the floor, Dunk starts wiping the blood off of it.
"I'd be happy to take you to your uncle once this storm ends," he offers. "But we're not going anywhere 'till this storm passes, yeah?"
In the dim light of the lantern-- closer to the young lady than himself, since he felt she needed that comfort more-- the scar on his cheek looks a touch brighter, standing out above the dark, grey-streaked beard that's taken hold of his jaw. Dressed in the pure black of the Night's Watch, Dunk's station is clear, and he replaces his sword in its scabbard once it's clean. Eyes edged with laugh lines land on the girl with a stern look to them almost immediately after.
"Leaving's a fool's errand. You'd almost certainly die-- and Whippet, too." The horse snorts at the sound of her own name, and without looking, Dunk stroke her leg idly to comfort her. "Be no point in saving you then, would there?
"I'll have you back to your uncle, I swear it. Long as you're honest about where he's from."
[ TRAPPED ] : for our muses to be trapped somewhere together [ spending a snowstorm in a rickety old barn on sansa's trip back to winterfell... ]
They'd traveled four days north from Moat Cailin before bandits overtook them. There was no time to know if the attack had been sudden or if any of their own men had been silently slaughtered in the dark beforehand. Sansa only knew there was shouting, bolting upright as the wall of their tent came crashing down and Lord Baelish hurried her out and into the bitter cold. In the dark of the evening she saw figures struggling, far more than the half dozen that had accompanied them from the Vale. She shrieked as someone ripped her from her custodian and flung her across a saddle, taking off into the blackness. It felt like both forever and mere moments before she hit the hard ground, dazed and unable to adjust her vision. She heard a horse cry out, heard stomping, grunts and more thrashing, then a large, looming silhouette had approached her, sword in tow....
That had been hours ago, though the grey, stormy sky makes exact time of day impossible to tell. If any path lay nearby it was masked in white, wind whistling and shrieking through the gaps in the wood around them. Sansa sits with her back to the corner, for what protection it's worth, and clutches her cloak around her, thankful as she shivers to have had it close enough at hand in the night to grab upon retreat. Her eyes fall to the man tending his horse at the other end of the barn, watching his movements, gauging for signs of aggression. He hasn't harmed her yet, hasn't even said a cross word in her direction, but brutal experience has taught her harsh lessons, made her wary of any and everyone.
" I need to get back to my uncle, " she announces, finally breaking the silence between them with words fueled by feigned confidence. " He'll be worried about me. He'll send men to find me. " With this storm, Sansa isn't even convinced of her own statement, though not for lack of trying. She pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she shivers again, faux-black hair gathered in a braid and hanging over one shoulder. " ...Do you know where we are? "
"Ser! Ser Duncan! You have to come! Aerion's hurting her!"' "Hurting who?"
A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.03
links arms with the other and tugs them along happily.
@theirmadness ( sansa ), non-verbal actions.
The noise Dunk let out as he was pulled was undignified, but the force at which this Stark girl pulled him was great enough that he very nearly dropped his leg of fowl.
Fortunately, Dunk's grip tightened around his meal, and with a fleeting glance to where Egg was chatting happily with Rickon (the boy would be fine without him, he decided), he allowed himself to be whisked away to wherever it was the northern lady wanted to take him. It wasn't hard to catch up with her, what with the difference in their height, but he had to admire her strength.
"M'lady?" he asked once his mouthful of food was swallowed, sounding just this edge of undignified. "Has something happened?
"I'm supposin' it's good" -- otherwise she would not be smiling so wide -- "but what is it?"
And, perhaps most pressingly, why did she think him most worthy of taking?
main series dunk timeline stuff is so tricky. for hedge knight era, i'm tempted to make tommen baratheon his squire in place of egg (bobby was impressed with him after winning the trial of seven at the tourney they forced joffrey to engage in-- of course this makes cersei hate dunk FOREVER for taking her child away, but you know), and perhaps his travels will centre in the north especially with the arrival of the Others (legendary knight helps the smallfolk protect against the undead!)
alternatively, there's a world where egg is aerys II's older brother, and after the tragedy at summerhall dunk stays with aerys until bobby's rebellion. at which point he takes the black at the Wall. to, again, protect against the Others. frankly i just can't see dunk doing anything other than addressing the most pressing dilemma to the smallfolk, which at this point is less the war of the 5 kings ("i've never known a [king] to change the price of eggs") and more the fact that Winter is Coming
𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 !
do you want a certain kind of ship with my muse ? check out the key below & send me a symbol to tell me what kind of ship you want ! note : my muse = blog owner’s muse / your muse = sender’s muses
romantic relationships !
💘 friends to lovers ❣️ enemies to lovers 💜 love at first sight 💙 slow burn 💚 skinny love 💔 exes to lovers again 🖤 on again , off again
familial relationships !
🌼 older sibling 🌺 younger sibling 👭 twins 🌻 friends like siblings 🍃 cousins 🌵 parental
friend relationships !
☀️ best friends 🌦 enemies to friends 🌈 friends since childhood ⛅️ friends of circumstance ☁️ school friends 🌩 friends from traumatic experiences
enemy relationships !
🔪 friends to enemies 💣 stole something from my muse 🔦 stole something from your muse 🗡 bullied my muse 🔫 bullied your muse ⚔️ family feud 🛠 fueds between mutual friends ❌ guilty by association
exhaling sharply through their nose and clenching their jaw.
@deathlsslullaby ( caelyn ), non-verbal actions.
"I'm sorry--"
Dunk stopped, stunned, at the sight of this person's scarred eyes. There was a breath's moment where all he did was stare, inappropriate as it was. But then he collected himself, his throat bobbed on a swallow, and he straightened some even if he wasn't sure they could see him, if only to signify his seriousness.
"I'm sorry," he tried again, tone firmer in what he hoped sounded like renewed confidence. "I didn't see you there, erm..." Miss hung off the edge of his lips, but Dunk held it back. Somehow it looked like they weren't the sort to appreciate such things.
Nevertheless, Dunk bent to pick up the items he'd knocked out of their hands, carefully holding them in his own. Still crouched, he reached upward to brush the items against their fingertips in the hopes they'd be able to take them again.
"Here you go," he offered. "Hopefully everything's good-- it looks good, anyway, but..."
@sunsetelm / from here.
[ invite ] dunk inviting baelor to sit on their lap . [ phm!au w/ baelor getting used to his wacko human limbs / fingies / etc ]
This body was new. Awkward, gangly, and lacking the grace of his other forms. Baelor grumbled at its limited sight ( how did anyone work with such restricted vision ? ), which only added to the feeling of being caged in his mind. He would grow accustomed to it, he supposed — it wasn't unlike when he was young and disliked changing his size. The alien lifted his fingers as he moved toward Dunk, clad in thin clothing the engineer scrounged up from the belongings of his dead crewmates, and wiggled them. This distraction caused him to lose awareness of his feet, however, and he stubbed his toe on the edge of the ball that he often rolled around Dunk's ship in.
Baelor growled at the pain, spreading like a sting from a hostile plant on Valyria his creator used to warn him to avoid as a newly - hatched thing. He fumbled away from the ball, wincing at his sore foot and the scratching in his throat. All of his vocalizations were too harsh on it.
Dunk's laughter was kind and perhaps the first soothing noise to reach Baelor's human ears. His head turned to look at the engineer, eyes glowing. The gestures from Dunk's hands indicated a sort of come here, if Baelor's knowledge from the human films Dunk had shown him was correct. Baelor trilled softly and stumbled his way closer. He lowered himself to sit on Dunk's lap, facing toward him. Dunk was warm, but Baelor was warmer still.
With heavy breathing that resembled his true self's huffing, Baelor pressed a palm to Dunk's chest. It was light at first — and then the alien smacked it, and smacked harder, like a baby learning how to move its joints. That, too, produced a gradual sting that Baelor seemed to dislike. His tongue swiped over his lips, and he croaked out something behind those ( terrible, terrible ) flat teeth.
❝Itchy,❞ Baelor complained, pulling his fingers back to tug at the shirt draped over him. The alien's inflection mimicked the translator Dunk had built, as though Baelor were trying to make himself sound like the synthetic voice programmed to it. Over time, maybe, he would become more natural sounding.
❝This itchy. Valyrians no have this.❞ Baubles, scars, decorations, pretty carvings in their scaled hides, yes — but not this frustrating cloth laced with smelly dyes. ❝Why Baelor have ? Why Baelor no sit here without ?❞ By here, of course, he meant in Dunk's roomy and secure lap. The implications of his nudity and the concept of shame that humans placed about it were absent from his considerations.
Dunk couldn't stop looking. Baelor was already terribly pretty as a dragon-- and in truth Dunk mourned not being able to touch his scales, even though he knew the reptilian form would only be in pain here-- but somehow, miraculously, he was just as pretty in the flesh, too. The creature was perhaps the clumsiest he had ever been, but Dunk's eyes were glittering as he watched him stumble and hiss, and it was hard not to laugh not because of mocking, but because the affection he felt was remarkable.
He'd had Baelor's little ball on his lap before, and so it stood to reason that he could have him sat there without the ball, too. Questions about Baelor's change in make-up and density rose in Dunk's mind, but as the Valyrian's weight pressed itself onto Dunk's thighs, what measure of control he might have had faded away. He had imagined Baelor would be cool, considering his propensity for warmer conditions, but the creature that pressed into him felt like a star condensed in human form.
Dunk's face warmed, even as found himself laughing around a "what are you doing". But between Baelor's easy slaps and all the fidgeting he made in discomfort, he couldn't not laugh, not when he was so happy.
"I know you always have a lot to say," he started, setting his hands on Baelor's waist, "but it's bloody unreal hearing you keep goin' like this, you know that?"
The touch on his middle felt too intimate, so Dunk moved up to Baelor's arms, then shoulders, then gave up entirely to cup either side of his neck and rub at his jawline with his thumbs. Gods, his skin was soft.
"You're wearing clothes 'cause it's inappropriate for humans to go around without." Dunk's thumbs pressed gently into Baelor's cheeks, watching the flesh dip under the pressure. "Do you see me take my clothes off around you? No, 'cause I'd look a right fool if I did.
"Do you want to look a fool? Surely not. So clothes you will have."
A STUDY IN ────── THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, RUNT OF THE LITTER, FINDING OF SELF AND AUTONOMY, LITTLE REBELLIONS, PREY FERAL ANTICS, VANITY, TEMPESTOUSNESS, HOPELESS ROMANTICISM, NEVERENDING WHIMSY, AND YEARNING.
Coldplay - Yellow
I don't know if there're rules to lordships, the hedge knight said, and Fiyero can't help the smirk that overcomes his lips. Perhaps he should be proud to be so convincing of a lord that a new acquaintance couldn't smell the rebellious inclinations that painted his troubled past, now that it's time for him to step into the role as his father grows more ill.
Still, he kept that bit of information under wraps for the moment and simply appreciated the good intentions of the larger man.
"I suppose laying beneath the stars is a pleasure I've not taken in some time," Fiyero began, settling into the grass further as he shifted his arms behind his head to serve as a makeshift pillow. "And perhaps we both could use some company."
Truthfully, the young lord had been so wrapped up in his duties as of late, he hadn't really had any moment to simply exist.
"Is this why you'd prefer to stay out here? The stars? I've heard of others saying that they'd grown so accustomed to the firmness of earth that they are incapable of enjoying the softness of a bed. I couldn't quite figure out if that were true for you as well."
There was no accusation or malice in his tone, simply a curiosity at the other's habits. Still, no matter how accustomed the hedge knight was to the bare minimum, Fiyero wanted to do right by the man.
"I did worry you'd grow too cold in the night, however. Are you certain the one blanket is enough?"
"I don't know about 'growing accustomed', m'lord," Dunk said, his smile small but not any less sincere. "Don't think it counts when the ground's all you've known, yeah. This blanket's plenty... though if you're cold, you ought to come closer."
Dunk lifted the blanket from where it was draped over one shoulder, offering some space for Fiyero to squeeze into if needed. Having been a furnace to many people in his life, the offer came as easily as breathing.
"Spoiling's not so bad, eh? When I'm aching, a featherbed comes so easy to melt into it might as well be butter."
Dunk almost asked if Fiyero understood what he meant, but supposed a pretty lord like him wouldn't have to. Not to discount the man's experiences in battle (of which Dunk knew little, naturally), but there was something about nearly dying in the mud that made his pain go deeper than bone. Dunk didn't recall the events of the Trial of Seven itself nearly as much as he did its aftermath, but he did remember never feeling more close to death in his life.
So he continued, "The best sleep I had in one was when Egg insisted we stay at an inn after Lady Ashford's name day tourney..."
Dunk paused, turning to raise a brow in Fiyero's direction.
"Suppose the boy's told you about it, aye?"
Egg did, after all, take every opportunity he could to declare the great Ser Duncan the Tall so formidable a warrior he destroyed Prince Aerion Brightflame, son of Prince Maekar Targaryen, with his bare hands. The tale grew exaggerated quite quickly and Dunk didn't care for Egg's bragging on his behalf, but he did like seeing the boy so happy whenever he spoke of it.
"Anyway" -- he shook his head then -- "the next time I woke was because the innkeeper'd started slamming her fists into the door." Dunk chuckled. "I'd been in so much pain I slept two days away... and my squire didn't know to give coin for every night we were there.
"Do you travel much, Lord Fiyero?"
