bridg.erton verse with @chanticle / jayne except fergus is the opposite anthony where he’s grabbing men by the shoulders and screaming “please take her PLEASE”
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Not today Justin
Jules of Nature
will byers stan first human second
Three Goblin Art

titsay
Peter Solarz
hello vonnie
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
One Nice Bug Per Day
i don't do bad sauce passes
todays bird
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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DEAR READER
KIROKAZE
Cosimo Galluzzi

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@thaedaes
bridg.erton verse with @chanticle / jayne except fergus is the opposite anthony where he’s grabbing men by the shoulders and screaming “please take her PLEASE”
lucy boynton icons; like or dobrevbond
leliana just trying to make friends and cheer up this teenager only to have her head bitten off
SUE GILBERT
S02E04, The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun
@irnmaidn. sc.
“DO YOU SUPPOSE CORYPHEUS DESIGNED THESE?” with tilted head, he nudges the corpse of a slain venatori agent. squinting at the robes, while bloodied, still fascinated the inquisitor. “oh to be a fly on the wall in that conversation,” with a grotesque noise, he pulls one of sera’s arrows from the man’s chest, then another from his shoulder. “i mean, these helmets can’t really be functional, they’re way too top heavy to be anything but decoration,” with the bloodied tip of the arrow, he taps on what looks like handles protruding from the man’s helmet. “they’re not even spiked! they’re so unnecessary.”
@chanticle. / jayne. sc.
“DO YOU WANT ME TO BRAID YOUR HAIR?” it is said a little too eagerly. she’d had few friends in the cloister, fewer friends before that. bards didn’t really braid each other’s hair in friendship. it had been an almost soothing ritual for her, when her hair was long enough to braid. but with it shorn off, she had little to do with it. “at least to keep it out of your face? i’ve noticed it falling in your eyes.”
i have never in my life cranked out starters this quickly what is going on
@higheverheir. sc.
PRIDE COULD NOT QUITE SUFFICE. his granddaughter was a hero, a woman that would pass into legend. they would sing songs of her as they sang them of her mother, of his daughter. the style of dance they favored in denerim’s fine court was not the boisterous, lively jig that fearchar was used to moving through, but he passes them through the slow dance with as much grace as anyone can expect from an old raider like him. “you are the very spit of your mother at your age, did you know that?” there isn’t a hint of sorrow to his voice. with vengeance already taken, all there was left to do was celebrate the life she’d lived. it was the mac eanraig way. “you never knew your mother when she was a wild pup like you, did ye?” a laugh coming from deep in his belly disturbs the other dancers at the celebration. “she did her best to play the proper fereldan lady when she wed your da, but she was just as wild as you are, don’t let her fool you.”
@didshine. sc.
“I CANNOT APOLOGIZE ENOUGH...” marjolaine’s assassins have sent her head spinning. all of the suspicion and fear she thought she’d set aside in lothering suddenly came rushing back to her. imagining enemies aiming their bows in the trees around camp, all their arrows trained on her. “i did not mean for my past to interfere with the plan... i thought marjolaine gone for good.”
fawnslay.
if words were even SLIGHTLY different, it would elicit knee-jerk upset at the message ; she has never liked being DOUBTED, so easily takes it as a slight. the clear worry in her mother’s eyes and words tempers greer’s tongue and stormy temperament. “it will be fine, mama,” the name is reserved now only for reassurance or teasing, tipping towards the former this time as she leans to press a kiss to mother’s cheek, “i’m not going ALONE,” her hunting party is well-practiced & well-planned, having spent hours before pouring over maps and roles. “we have faced worse than DARKSPAWN.” greer had returned from one hunt with a tale of a GIANT, though they had not slain the thing lingering on the storm coast.
THE KISS EARNS HER A SMILE, and another hand combing through her wild curls. a wistful sigh escaping eleanor’s lips as she realizes she’s had to tip her head back just a little to look in her daughter’s eyes. a physical reminder that she was a little girl no longer, but a woman nearly entirely grown. “a near brush with a giant does not make you a monster slayer, my darling,” the hand that had been combing through greer’s curls suddenly pinch at her cheek fondly. “clearly, mallol and i did not tell you enough frightening tales of darkspawn eating wild little girls. perhaps then you would have a touch more sense,” another wistful sigh. “though, i suppose i cannot pretend you inherited your willful nature from your father. entirely my fault, i’m afraid.”
this is a callout post for @fawnslay who is a bastard and a demon and i am going to smother her in her sleep
@fawnslay. sc.
“HE’S A HANDSOME DOG!” mabari were not fashionable in val royeaux. too big, too bulky, their fur too short to tie up in garish bows. eagerly, leliana provides scratches behind the hound’s ears. “i don’t think i’ve caught his name yet, what do you call him?”
@irnmaidn. sc.
“YOU MADE QUITE THE IMPRESSION,” idly, the spymaster inspects a note, though she can’t quite suppress the smirk curling the corners of her mouth. “josephine says she’s received nearly as many inquiries for your hand as she has for our dear commander,” a wickedly mischievous look is finally cast up to the inquisitor’s face, head tipping to the side. “my agents even tell me a bard has composed a ballad inspired by your dance with the duchess.”
lucy playing a ginger lucy playing a ginger lucy playing a ginge-
@irnmaidn. sc.
“FORGIVE ME,” glasses clink together as she goes about cleaning up the mess that has taken up her living space. even after years away from kirkwall & polite high society, she still plays the part of the graceful hostess. she could never quite rid herself of her mannered speech. “you’ll understand why i’m in no fit state to entertain, surely. with all that’s going on,” as she speaks, she guides cassandra to the table, moving about her like a tornado. “i’ve lived here for near four years, now. one would think to set up a clinic. now, where were you hurt?”
@didshine. sc.
“BALFOUR!” true to his name, the storm giant’s voice bellows from the opposite end of the throne room. a man of his late seventies though he may be, he still crosses the room in record speed to crush his grandson into a hug. “there’d been no word on you, we thought you dead with the rest...” a massive hand claps on balfour’s shoulder, never a man too proud for tears, the ones that form at the corners of his eyes are not wiped away. “am i to understand it’s you behind this landsmeet, lad?”
what if... the mac eanraigs.... blockaded howe’s troops... in highever... to significantly hurt howe’s prospects...