brought to you by year old art


Ok so time to be a bit dramatic.

I started drawing (like characters and scenes from books and fan art - I’ve technically been drawing since I was a kid) when I read the Percy Jackson and The Olympians series. All I wanted to do was to draw my favorite characters. Percy Jackson also started my love for books and fantasy in general. This was 7 grade. I was 12.

Skipping to 8 grade. 13 years old. My anime phase. I call it a phase bc it burned bright then died down. Not only did I stop reading books for a few months, but my art style also went to: anime. My art teacher actually told me to get out of the anime; that is wouldn’t do me good as an aspiring illustrator. But I ignored her, thinking I could make my own way without help from better artists.

Summer going into 9 grade, 14 years old (a few months after 8 grade ended) I read The Mortal Instruments series. I read those books in under a month along with The Infernal Devices series. It broke me out of my anime stage. I started to find my own style while drawing the characters. It not only shaped my art, but it brought me back into the world of literature that I didn’t realized I had left behind.

Now. 15 years old. Going into my sophomore year of high school. One year later from reading TMI/TID/TDA. My art has improved. Clary and Jace still mean as much to me now as they did then if not more.

If you would have told me when I was 12 that when I was 15, that The Shadowhunter Chronicles would replace PJO/HOO as my all time favorite series, I would’ve called you a liar. If you would’ve shown me I would be drawing this three years later - I would’ve laughed in your face.

But it’s true. This is real. This is me. My art. My passion. Books do change people. But only if you let them.

A Blind Path Home, Final Part

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: I obviously took some liberties with the storyline, but I tried keeping it as true as possible to the canon history. No beta used this time around, so excuse my mistakes.  THIS IS IT - THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!
Summary: It started with a blind date. A date you had skipped out on, but fate had led you right to the man you stood up. Steve Rogers, a man small in stature but big in heart. A chance meeting set everything in motion, but decades later when he is unfrozen, he has been told you have died. But when a mission to retrieve Hydra plans turned up some interesting information, Steve’s left to wonder whether you are still alive. Or is this all just false hope?


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Zootopia / Robin Hood Fanfiction TAKE A STAND epilogue

(AN/ Here we go…the end. Take a Stand had been my most successful fic and that is only possible because of you amazing folks who actually read it reviwed, liked, faved, followed and reblogged this dumb fic, I want to high five all of you for being so awesome. Now I have to thank a few folks who helped illustrate this fic; @ziegelzeig dude you know how much I love your work and your friendship you’re an amazing artist and writer, I love you dude. @fuzzywuzzylittletail you came up with some crackin’ artwork for this fic thank you, shadowed-visitor thank you too for your song/art pieces, @reddoshirousagi06 thank you for your brilliant sketches, @trashasaurusrex @ky-jane @blueberrycarrots @idealbean and everyone else who contributed. Thank you all for reading…so without further ado let’s get cracking with this chapter.)

Here’s the fanfiction,net link…

Epilogue - One Year Later

The smell of engine oil and old wood brought back a host of memories for Judy as she clambered up the ladder to the upper level of one of the many barns at Hopps farm, she used to play cops and robbers with her siblings all the time as a kit but right now the twenty six year old bunny needed a moment to relax in the barn. It had been a very hectic day, as soon as she stepped off the train at Bunnyburrow station it had been a non stop series of hugs, catching up with relatives and being overstuffed with the mountains of food that had been prepared for the massive party had arrived from Zootopia including; herself, Nick, Luna, Marian, Robin, Little John, Jack and Skye.

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For those of you who don’t know of my undying love for Kingdom Hearts, here’s some OLD art that dates back nearly 15 YEARS! I was ten years old when KH was released in the US and it was a game, a story that I instantly fell in love with. Disney will forever be the reason why I became an artist, but KH is the reason why I fell in love with character design. It may not be perfect (cuz seriously what actually is kingdom hearts??? a moon, a door???) but it is something that has brought me a lot of joy these past 15 years. I owe so much to this series and I’m happy to say that it’s been something I’ve consistently loved since I first experienced it. It will forever make me feel like a kid. Happy 15th Anniversary, KH!

Pastel Blue - Taeyong x Reader - Superpower [Reader] Royals!AU

Pastel Blue ; Taeyong - Red & Grey ; Johnny - Rose Quartz & Serenity ; Doyoung

Dedicated to and requested by: the one and only amazing babe @taeyongbelviso ; have the happiest 18th birthday, darling! i love you so much <3

Word Count: 2329

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and emotional parental abuse, Poverty

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Superpowers, Royals!AU

Your parents were afraid for the kingdom’s future.

When you had been born, you had brought joy to everyone, and they all couldn’t wait until you grew up.

You were going to be the best heir to the throne; everybody knew that your mother, the Queen, could no longer bear any children, leaving you to be the only one left to rule the lands when the time was to come.

Then came your ninth birthday. 

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Titanic starters

  • “You are so full of shit.”
  • “All right, enough of that bullshit.”
  • “Okay, so she’s a very old goddamn liar.”
  • “It’s been 84 years and I can still smell the fresh paint.”
  • “It was the ship of dreams to everyone else.”
  • “Outwardly, I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming.”
  • “We’re the luckiest sons of bitches in the world.”
  • “We need a little color in this room.”
  • “The difference between [name]’s / your taste in art and mine is that I have some.”
  • “I can see the Statue of Liberty already.”
  • “I’m the king of the world!”
  • “Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas of the male preoccupation of size might be of particular interest to you.”
  • “I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it.”
  • “I felt like I was standing at a great precipice with no one to pull me back. No one who cared, or even noticed.”
  • “Just give me your hand. I’ll pull you back over.”
  • “Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do.”
  • “You let go, and I’m going to have to jump in there after you.”
  • “It would hurt. I’m not saying it wouldn’t.”
  • “I know what ice fishing is!”
  • “You just seem like, you know, kind of an indoor girl.”
  • “Come on, give me your hand.”
  • “You don’t want to do this.”
  • “I’ll have to get you to write that one down.”
  • “I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”
  • “This is completely unacceptable!”
  • “What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?!”
  • “I was leaning over and I slipped.”
  • “Like I said, women and machinery do not mix.”
  • “Well the boy’s a hero then.”
  • “Can I bum a smoke?”
Wrong Number Pt. 2 // Fanfic

You guys asked for it so here it is. 

Nesta stared down at her phone. Her sisters old number had texted her again. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to respond or not. She could continue and prank the other person or she could write it off and never speak to them again. 

“Are you moping about dinner last night?” Feyre asks, walking into her living room and looking through drawers full of her art supplies. 

“No, I am disappointed in myself for not telling him but I will eventually,” Nesta says, not wanting to think about how she chickened out of telling her dad about Tomas and wanting to break up with him. “I think I’ll just email him.”

“Email dad that your breaking up with his best friend and business partners son? That’ll go over well,” Feyre retorted. “You know what you need?” she doesn’t wait for Nesta to reply before continuing, “You need to come with me. I was commissioned to paint a mural and I could use some help.” 

Nesta sighed, weighing her options. On one hand she could go out and spend time with her sister or she could go home and think about how her life is slowing spiraling out of control. “Okay, lead the way,” she says, standing up and gesturing towards the door. Feyre cheers before leaving the apartment. 

“I wouldn’t have come if you I knew that I would just be holding the ladder,” Nesta states, she had already given up on holding the ladder steady and had crouched down on the ground. “Why were you commissioned for mural in an alley on a random building?” 

“This just isn’t any random building, this building is the building where the Senator who denied funds for the art programs in school’s office is located,” Feyre comments, from the ledge she was perched on. 

“You brought me along to be an accomplice in your crime?” Nesta exclaims. 

“No, I brought you along so you would stop being an old hag spinster who never leaves her house anymore,” Feyre comments, climbing down the ladder. She holds out a bottle of spray paint for Nesta. “Make your mark, Nes. Live a little.” 

“I am not getting arrested because you want to do crazy young people things,” Nesta responds. 

“Crazy young people things. Your four years older then me. Climb the later and make your mark,” Feyre says. Nesta stands up, grumbling under her breath, as she takes the spray paint bottle from her sister and climbs up the ladder. She makes her way onto the ledge and looks at the picture thinking about what she could add. Before Nesta can even take the cap off, blue and red lights fill the alley. 

“Run!” Feyre yells, bolting away. Nesta turns around quickly and starts climbing down the ladder but the ladder wasn’t prepared for her to jump onto it and it falls leaving her hanging. 

“Put your hands up,” a voice yells, followed by a laugh. “Actually don’t, I don’t feel like filling out whatever paperwork I would need for you falling.” 

“I am so glad my current situation is so funny,” Nesta snaps, she feels the ladder below her feet and looks down to see a tall, tan, muscular cop holding it steady for her as she climbs down. “Thanks,” she says dusting off her pants and heading down the alley. 

He laughs again, “You do realize I have to take you to the station, right? You’ll have to call someone to post bail for you.” 

“I didn’t even do that!” Nesta exclaims. 

He looks at her, the can of spray paint in her hand, up to the mural, than back at her. “Really? I am insulted you think I would fall for that.” 

“My sister did it. I have no artist ability,” she says.

“Well, your sister isn’t here and you are. You can either come willingly or I can handcuff you,” he retorts. 

Nesta looked up when she heard her sister laugh, “This is gold. When Elain called me and said that you called her from jail I thought she was kidding,” Feyre says, pulling out her phone and taking pictures. “Dad’s going to kill you.” 

“I am twenty four and I don’t live at home,” Nesta snaps, frowning as the cop from earlier chuckles at them. “Are you paying my bail or do I get to spend the in this lovely five star cell thanks to you.” 

“I don’t know, I think you need more time to think about what you did. I’ll go back out there and continue to flirt with that cute police officer I spoke to find where you were being held,” Feyre taunts. 

“Think about what I did! I was brought here because I was holding a ladder for you! You owe me so much for this,” Nesta says, as the police officer from earlier unlocks her cell and opens the door for her. 

Feyre just laughs and continues to take more pictures. “Did you need to get a mug shot?” Nesta glared at her sister. “That means you did. Is there anyway I could get that? We could make it your Christmas card.” 

“If you give me your number I’ll have my partner send it to you,” The officer from earlier, who Nesta learned was named Officer Monte, says which earned him a Nesta’s classic death stare.  

“Your partner?” Feyre asks. Officer Monte points in the direction where another police officer was talking with a detective. “Ohhh the cute one from earlier.” 

Nesta grabbed her belongings and pulled on her sisters arm who was telling the officer her number. “Stop trying to hook up with the police officer and take me home so I can shower.” 

Not a cliffhanger this time…I thought you guys deserved a break. 

The turian brought out of the fight to lead it.

Adrien Victus.

So I thought i’d do another piece of one of my favorite turians and test out some abstract stuff with the background.

Also, I want to thank everyone who had liked and or re-posted my stuff over the last six months. It means so much to me that you guys like my stuff (even as a edgy fourteen year old who tries too hard at art) and i’m amazed at how far I’ve progressed in digital art and for my love for mass effect (in which I only started doing stuff in digital art like 8 months ago).

And again, thanks.

The Lost City of Altea: Chapter Two

@tokyoteddywolf and @futureblackpaladin enjoy my four-hour writing spree

“Shiro? You here? I’m home,” Keith called out into his apartment. He nearly dropped his notes when he saw the woman standing in front of his window.

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Ok Listen

There has been a significant amount of drama in this, the most peaceful of fandoms, recently, which has consisted almost entirely of people responding to Thomas being ace-inclusive by accusing him of encouraging minors to create sexually explicit art. While this has already been shown to be not true, I think a lot of people need to take a reality check right now.

I have been on this trash fire of a website since 2012 when I was 14, I am now 20. In that time, I have come across more smutty fan art and fanfic than you can comfortably imagine, and let me tell you a thing.

The overwhelming majority of fanfic/art, whether pornographic or not, is produced by people ages 14-18. That smutty Stony fanfic you read 2 months ago?
Probably written by a 15 year old girl.

That animatic gif of Clexa making out?

The person that made that was 17.

That very explicit art of Thomas sanders ass?

That was also someone under 18.

What I’m trying to say is, you have all 100% encountered if not actively consuming nsfw (or at least a bit explicit) fanfic and art created by minors, and you do not see anyone coming for your reputation over it.
He has already stated, both before and after the age of the artist was brought to his attention, that he only encourages nsfw fan art creation when it is by people of legal age. He also apologized and removed the post immediately upon finding out the age of the artist.
So please, chill out, unless of course you would like for people to scroll back your blog and politely inform you that you have ab 236 reblogged fics and art that prove you are a hypocrite.

While I do not purposefully encourage or consume nsfw art/fics made by minors, as someone who used to be one of those minors I would like to just let everyone know that these teens don’t need any encouragement, they just do it because they want to, and while Thomas is not actually encouraging it, the rest of the fandom is.

anonymous asked:

What are good one-shot AUs?

This post has a bunch of new ones, and this one has a bunch of cute one-shots we like, and finally this post.  Plus here are some favorites:

Title: Wellies
Word Count:
Jily Modern AU Oneshot. All Lily wanted was a drink to get through her sister’s wedding, but the bartender won’t let her get away that easily.

Title: Just Fine
Word Count:
After her best friend spots him in a London pub with another woman, Lily is hasty to confront her boyfriend.

Title: The Girl in the Upstairs Bedroom
Author: Stop-hating-on-my-ships
Rating: M
Genre(s): Romance, Drama
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 3,224
Summary: Nazi Germany. Lily is brought to the Potter’s household when she is twelve years old, to go into hiding. James doesn’t take much notice of her until she is sixteen. But secrets can never be kept forever, and the consequences of this one being discovered can be particularly deadly. 

Title: The Art of a One Night Stand
Romance, Humour, Muggle AU
Word Count:
Prompt: “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to your bed.”

Title: AU Librarian
Romance, Humour
Chapters: ~
Word Count: ~
“Hot magazine bloke is back,” Dorcas whispered to her over the stack of books she was mending.

Title: New Neighbour
Author: BookWorm77071
Rating: K
Genre(s): Romance, Humour, Fluff
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 1,092
Summary: After the most miserable moving experience in the history of mankind, a new horror hits. Bagpipes. In the middle of the night. Lily’s on the warpath. Short and fluffy AU!

Title: Pas De Deux
Author: petals-to-fish
Rating: T
Genre(s): Romance, Humour
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 3,579
Summary: James leaned against the cold door and stared at Lily in curiosity as she made her way back to the shop counter. She was like nothing he’d ever come across in Levinstown. James knew he’d come searching for a Christmas gift for his mother, but he felt like he’d gotten a gift of his own just by meeting Lily.

Title: Doctor Potter; Patient Evans
Author: petalstofish
Rating: Unrated
Genre(s): Romance, Humour
Chapters: 1
Word Count: ~
Summary: Lily Evans was already in trouble and it wasn’t because she was in the Emergency Room for the second time in two months…

Title: When Love Was King
Author: wearingaberetinparis
Rating: Unrated
Genre(s): Romance
Chapters: 1
Word Count: ~
Summary: Royalty/University Trope - Basically I’ve done royalty inspired Jily fics before, but I love writing them so much. Prince James just makes me swoon. This one is slightly different, though, because I thought I’d add the setting of a university. In short: this is kind of “The Prince & Me” as well as Kate and William-inspired. 

Title: Question Time
Muggle AU
Word Count:
Newly-elected Prime Minister Potter has his work cut out for him. If only a certain red-headed MP weren’t deliberately making life harder for him.

Title: Postal
Muggle AU
Word Count:
“We got James Potter’s mail again…”

Title: Just Keep Your Eyes On Me
Author: crossingwinter
Rating: E
Genre(s): Romance, Humour
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 50,070
Summary: You’re not allowed to date your roommate. There’s practically a law against it. So James moves out.

Title: if i told you i loved you would you take it the wrong way?
Author: bisexualilyevans
Rating: Unrated
Genre(s): Romance, Humour
Chapters: 1
Word Count: ~
Summary: a mash up of a professor!au and a single parent!au

Title: Key Limes
Author: cgner
Rating: T
Genre(s): Romance, Humour
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 24,695
Summary: In which Academy Award winner Lily Evans discovers the periphery of internet fandom and the existence of Prince James’s gold star system.

I'm very familiar and I love children!

In an exceptional report of fashion, very sophisticated and suggestive.

First photo session of Georgina, the women of the moment, after the confirmation of her pregnant : “I’m very familiar and I love children.”

She was always associated with the fashion world, but she lived her passion from a different point of view. Now, Georgina Rodriguez, was thrown on the pitch and shoots the triumphs from the first line. Her transfer to one of the one of the most prestigious model agencies in our country, among Bar Rafeli, Martina Klein, Laura Ponte, Rocio Crusset, Coco Rocha, Ana Beatriz Barros or Isabeli Fontana puts it in the ideal situation to reach her goals as a professional model.
Fulfilling dreams for this beautiful brunette, twenty-three year olds who grew up in Jaca, who studied and worked in London and returned to Madrid, protagonist of life which made a radical change. A year ago, at the same time, Georgina was anonymous, lived in one of Madrid’s neighborhoods and went to work in a boutique Gucci every day.
Georgina is already a rising star on Instagram (has almost a million and a half followers), but has kept a low profile before the media. Despite being transformed into a woman of the moment, little is known of the person who shares life with Cristiano Ronaldo.

Knowing Georgina.

Today we approach Georgina, who poses, for the first time, after the confirmation of her pregnancy, in a spectacular report of fashion and beauty.
Photos like you’ve never seen, in which she is very sophisticated and sensual and show her photogenic in front of the cameras. Simple tastes, always highlighting her appeal, and basics in her wardrobe, which become her best allies for their youthful “looks.” A lot of ripped jeans, necklines and short dresses, which allow to emphasize her shapely figure and legs, are also part of her style.
And through her first statements, we know a little more about her. We discover, in a very special moment, her hobbies, how she care of herself and what is the motto of life of this beautiful model. Passion for ballet … - which she has been training since the age of four and is titled as teacher by the “Royal Academy Of Dance in London” - … and owner of an impressive physical thanks also to “spinning” and yoga.

Georgina, we’d like to get to know you a little more. How are you really?

I’m a family person. I love children, nature and animals. I have a 13 year old cat who’s my best friend. I like being surrounded by people with good energy who inspire me to be a better person every day.

You have just debuted as a model, since when do you like the world of fashion?

I have worked for brands in the luxury sector and thanks to this contact with fashion I have discovered a world that I’m passionate about.

You training “ballet”, what has this discipline brought you?

I do it since 15 years. My formation in classical dance has given me various values such as love for the arts, partnership, discipline and the importance of living a healthy life.

How you take care of yourself? How did you manage to keep such figure like you have now?

In my daily life, I like to take care of myself practice sports and eating in a balanced way. I try to eat natural products, avoiding heavy meals and following a mediterranean diet. I don’t follow a strict diet, I also give myself some whim.  What would life be without those little pleasures!

A motto in your life.

I believe in the expression : “mens sana in corpore sano / sound mind in a sound body” - I like to surround myself with those who inspire me to be a better person every day and to give me good energy.

My two loves.

Always discreet, however, it was inevitable that she would be in the spotlight since the news of her relationship with the football star in November, although she met him a few months earlier in the summer. Georgina, by the pressure of the media, was forced to leave her job in the Gucci, then in Prada.
As time passed, and much more calm and relaxed, she’s now more common to upload an photo with Cristiano on Instagram and there have been a lot of occasions in which has been able to see the couple with son of football player Cristiano Jr.,  seven year old, and as they say, identical to his famous father - physically and in the way of being. They formed a “modern family,” which became larger with the birth of twins, Eva and Mateo, in June, and now with the expectation of the birth of her baby, first fo her, fourth for him, baby girl, according to the Portuguese press.

Thank you my dear Ann for translation :*

Content of my content

Hey, peeps! It’s been brought to my attention that some individual(s) have made content (videos) featuring my and other artists’ work on YT.

Without credit.

Hm. Don’t do that.

Always get permission. I cannot stress that enough.

Now, I would’ve let it slide if they didn’t talk to me but still credited a link to me. My name is on most my works. But that’s me, I cannot speak for other creators.


If you don’t, that’s art theft.

Breezy out.

EDIT: The user is 10 years old. Do not attack them. I have left a polite comment and a reference to my tumblr.

I know this ain’t TF2 related but I want to thank each and everyone of you.

I started this blog as a way to get many ideas out of my head, ideas that I would consistently think about. By writing my ideas down it would clear my mind.

Never in an hundred year would I think I would hit 400+ followers. Little dumb ideas about characters that are about 10 years old. Men that fight each other daily.

Looking back, I’ve learned a lot. About the Team Fortress community and myself. Each and every person I have encountered in this community, on this blog and my personal blog are truly kind and amazing. I’ve seen so many brilliant pieces of art work and read fan-fictions that have brought me to tears.

I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. To each and everyone of you, the ones who were with me when I started and those who have just started to follow me now.

With the kind people like you I wouldn’t be here writing this. It’s because of each and everyone of you I’m trying to develop my skills as a writer. I know I still makes beginner mistakes. Grammar, spelling and the list goes on, but I’m trying to better myself. That’s because of the support you guys give me, the enthusiasm each of you have. I look in my Ask Box I have so many questions, each filled with passion. 

It means so much to me that you want my ideas, that you want to hear what I have to say about these characters.

I’ve enjoyed talking to you guys so much, talking about how Sniper will eat anything, Medic cloning himself, Demoan seeing through the 4th wall.

Each of you have made an impact on this blog, making me laugh and cry. What I’ve written is just as much your ideas as they are mine.

I thank each and everyone of you. For the support, likes and re-blogs.

You guys show the best of the Team Fortress community, you are the heart of this community.

Thank you again. I can never say it enough.

You are da real MVP.

Hearts and Arms.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes
Warnings: None
Summary: Bucky learns to love his arm
A/N: Please let me know what you think! Request away!
Word count : 454

From the moment your little girl was born, your life had shifted. You and Bucky had welcomed the little girl just 4 years ago and your lives had never been the same. Bucky was enamored from the moment he saw her and he knew in a heartbeat he would do anything for his little girl. For the first day Bucky was terrified to hold her, especially with his arm. You reassured him over and over again that his arm was made for love now. The first time he held her, he stayed stock still frightened what could happen. You played with his hair over his shoulder to reassure him and he held his daughter for the first time, looking down at her perfect sleeping form. 

Over the years he had realised that his arm wasn’t a danger to their beautiful daughter but still had trouble trusting it completely. His daughter was none the wiser, she knew it was different to his other arm but loved it all the same. Once when she was just a few months old she had a fever Bucky rested his cool metal hand down on her forehead to break the fever. It was then he realised his hand no longer brought pain or death but love and adoration. 

At the age of four she was obsessed with colouring and art. You fed her passion and fascination by giving her markers and paper. Sometimes she added the wall to her collection but you couldn’t be mad at her little pouty face.

Bucky was watching his little girl this morning, he sat on the couch watching a documentary. Your little girl sat on his left, colouring in her new princess book. Usually Bucky wanted her far from his metal arm but it had slipped his mind in the morning haze. Engrossed in the documentary playing on the screen he hadn’t noticed his little girl abandon her princess book in favour of his arm. The dry erase markers were gripped tightly in her hands as she drew a love heart on Bucky’s metal arm. 

“Daddy?” her little voice broke through his concentration. 

“Yes, sweet-“ his voice trailed off as he noticed the new addition on his arm. His silence worried her so she timidly asked whether he liked it. 

“Like it? Sweetheart I love it” his heart swelled with warmth, he never thought the arm which had brought him and other so much pain could now be something his little girl loved. Her toothy grin shone back at him and he picked her up to sit on his lap. 

“Now, do you think you could draw a couple more hearts for me?” the little girl’s laughter could be heard all the way down the hall. Bucky never looked at his arm the same way again. 

why some ideas are left abandoned

when i was 15, i started working on a webcomic.

[excuse the shitty old artwork]

The story was about a traveler, an ex-bounty hunter, and a runaway princess who join forces to track down these mysterious (and possibly delicious) mythical beasts.

It was a story of magic, mystery, and friendship.

And after all of that…

After what was going to be several chapters of buildup…

They find the mythical beasts that brought them together.

And they look like this:

I’m serious.

That’s what the creatures looked like.

It was all played straight too.

So next time you think “Aww, I feel bad that I didn’t stick with that project I started 4-5 years ago…”

Just remember

Hello there :)

My name is Suzie, I am 21 years old and I’m currently living in Germany. My dad is english but I wasn’t brought up bilingual (duh…)

I’m at University studying English and politics. Besides that, I love art, poems and travelling. I’m also very interested in other cultures and languages, so I hope to find some people who would like to share that. As you can guess, I’’m very much interested in politics, being open minded and passionate. I also love, love watching films. 

You don’t need to be a certain sex/gender or have a certain age. Just be aware, that I am not interested in any type of sexual relationship or any of that sort. I am interested in a long-term friendship via snail mail. I love writing and designing my letters, I love stickers etc. So maybe I’ll find someone who’s into that as well? 

If you’d like to get to know me better and become my pen pal, feel free to contact me via tumblr: 

Love Alters Not (Tywin Lannister)

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairings: Tywin Lannister x Joanna Lannister

Warnings: Some usual GoT angst

Originally posted by sansaregina

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks
But bears it out even to the edge of doom”

– Shakespeare – Sonnet 116

Joanna had always liked the sky.

When she was a girl, her father often carried her on his shoulders so she might pretend to touch the clouds above. They were heavy and white, made of the finest silk and richest cream and painted by giants – or dragons, she had not made up her mind about their origin yet. The sky, she learned later, was full of superstition and myth; it was a vault under which humans and other creatures had wandered in fearful admiration since the dawn of time. As a girl, when she knew nothing of this, she merely liked its shapes and the way it seemed to last forever and still fit in the palm of her hand.

“Who lives in the clouds?” Joanna asked with her fingers curled around a shadow that took a form in her imagination, turned into a lion or a stag or a bunny depending on her mood.

Her father didn’t know but her mother did.

“Our dreams live there,” she answered every time Joanna had asked. “Our dreams and our hopes, waiting for us to be ready for them.”

Her clouds were never thick with rain, not that she could remember. The sun never sets on the lions, her mother said many times during the long summer of Joanna’s childhood.


She was a disobedient child. A summer child, steeped in that summer-beauty from the fairy-tales and songs. From the moment she could walk and speak, Joanna was a climbing, lying, sneaking, wilful girl who was scooped up in comforting arms and sternly admonished by turns, drawing out deep frowns and exasperated laughs all at once. It was not fair, her brother Stafford protested when she got away with her adventures. He was a coward, afraid of wild animals and heights and water. Joanna was not afraid of anything.

“When I am a woman grown, I am going to be a conqueror,” she told him when they were flat on their stomachs on the floor of the library, painstakingly making their way through the thick tomes of history. “Like Aaegon.”

“Don’t be silly.” Stafford was two years older; he always thought he knew best. “When you’re a woman grown you will be somebody’s lady wife.”

Will not.” She turned a page in the book, eyebrows arched at the painting. A pack of mountain lions feasting on a direwolf and her stomach lurched with excitement, a jolt of happiness under her skin. When she was going to be older, her father has promised to take her hunting in the forests. The real forests. She decided that Stafford couldn’t come.

He sighed. “Yes, you will. Ask father.”

It was not fair, she thought to herself as the let the pad of her thumb trace the outlines of the largest lion in the group who had his paws around the wolf’s neck. If she leaned closer to the painting, so close her face almost touched it, she imagined she could taste the blood in the lion’s mouth.


The year when she was fourteen and bled for the first time, she often dined with her lord uncle Tytos and his children. Her cousins. Wedged in between Genna who never stopped talking and Kevan who teased her incessantly, Joanna directed her attention towards Tywin across the table. Their eyes met briefly. He seemed misplaced among them, she thought - too stern for a youth and not old enough to pass for a grown man despite all the tales of his prowess as a strategist and a swordsman. The heir to Casterly Rock was a strange child, they said. Nothing like her meek, ever-smiling uncle, he bore more resemblance to ancestors long gone, as though he himself was an echo from a different time. A joyless bastard, Stafford called him once, but not to his face.

Joanna thought him handsome, with strong, clean features and pale green eyes that could take the shape of the coolest ice. There was something hard in him, something austere and unflinching that you could rely on. It was a soothing thought.

She knew even before her parents suggest it, that she was meant to marry him.


During the year that followed, Joanna’s father brought her with him to Casterly Rock for a fortnight and she spent the better part of the journey there wondering what she will talk to her cousin about. Her education has been vast and unconventional in parts - due to her father’s love for both the family library and the old maps of wars won and lost – and full of suitable topics but Joanna was fairly certain a lady wasn’t meant to discuss the art of war with a suitor. She was equally certain that she will, at some point, but she had learned enough manners to at least pretend otherwise.

“You can see right into the sky up here,” was what escaped her as they arrive and it was not what she was expecting herself to say at all, but Genna giggled benevolently and took her arm in a firm grip, dragging her off to the Hall of Heroes.

Later that evening, she bested Tywin at chess – twice – and thought momentarily perhaps this was not going so well before she met his gaze and noticed something appreciative behind the layers of irritation at having lost.

“You are a clever girl,” he said with a curt nod. It made him sound old and pompous and she felt a burst of laughter tickle the back of her throat but she knew better than to let it out. He has been laughed at enough for a lifetime.

“Yes, I am,” Joanna said instead, mirroring his nod.

Tywin observed her for a moment, without saying anything else. Then - so very quickly and briefly that it might not even had happened - he smiled. He smiled and Joanna laughed, relieved.

There was no haste to marry young in times of peace, her lord uncle declared – if any of his vague statements could be interpreted as declarations - by the end of that year and Joanna realised she was disappointed.


War came between them, another year when the autumn stretched as endless as the sea, its clouds grey and low, soaring right above their heads. Joanna grew restless in the lingering heat and the thundering storms; she wanted out, longed for open roads and the crowded marketplaces of Lannisport. And her prayers this year – pleas to gods and clouds alike – rose like winding roads to the sky. She was a woman now, had outgrown her father’s house and as the moon rotated her mother began to question the promised betrothal, began to speak of Sebaston Farman because at least that match would take place in a near future. Joanna refused to speak of the matter entirely, nursing her pride and hope like a mother nurses her children.

Tywin Lannister waged an uneven, unequal war for most of that year. No one in her family expected him to lose.

“A risk all the same,” her father told her over his goblet of wine that she brought every night to his study. He sat there, pored over maps and old books. If she asked, he showed her the world in them. “But Tywin is determined, I give him that.”

“A lord must be able to trust his vassals.” Joanna walked up to the window, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at the landscape out there, dissolved by rain and darkness. “My uncle should to have seen to that a long time ago. The blood is entirely on his hands.”

Her father looked up at her and for the first time she noticed how old he was, how the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth marked his face. Everybody said her father was a mirror image of his older brother and in this room she found, much to her disappointment, that it was truly so.

“You speak like a general, child,” he said and she could almost taste the wistfulness in his voice.

“I speak like a Lannister,” she retorted, turning her back on him. You ought to do the same.

With the falling leaves that year, reports of the young lion’s success at mercilessly crushing the uproar travelled between the towns and taverns. Those he did not defeat on the battlefield he hung, spelling out their family motto in blood for everyone to see. Joanna listened to the stories with a lurching feeling of hope in her chest. We are rising, she told the stars that were crisp and clear in the night skies. Finally rising after our long slumber.

With the first snow, Tywin himself – taking the place of his lord father in this matter, too - came to ask for Joanna’s hand in marriage.


It rained on their wedding, poured from black clouds above their heads all day, covering the guests and the feast in a veil of grey wetness. And rain meant good luck, someone told her as though she would need it. It rained even as they were carried away to their bedchamber. Water darkened the stones around her, Joanna thought, catching glimpses of it through the windows.

The darkness consumed Casterly Rock but in their room, candles were lit and fires were burning and she was released and placed in the middle of it, at its very core. Outside, she could hear the dancing and the singing continue with renewed force. A proper Lannister wedding much rarer these days than it used to be. They had good cause for celebration.

“Would you care for more wine?” Tywin asked suddenly and with strange politeness, looking over her shoulder at the generous feast that has been brought up from downstairs and put on a table near the fireplace. It had been the first thing she noticed when the cheering crowd put her down - the large plates full of sugared oranges and baked apples, of salted meat and roasted onions.

She shook her head. “Not unless you wish to carry me to bed.”

He observed her, the flecks of gold in his eyes glittering. “I was under the impression that was my duty.”

She laughed softly. Somehow the air seemed to grow warmer between them.

“I’m not a woman to be carried anywhere,” she said, sounding a little more prudish than intended and he gave an amused grunt that resounded in her, thudding against the sturdy walls of her heart. She blinked, startled at the realisation: everything past this, past the two of them, was out of focus, an unimportant blur of colours and lights.

“That remains to be seen.” He took a step towards her and the space between their bodies was narrowed further when she did the same. It felt like one long movement – without doubts, without interruption, merely two bodies recognising each other.

After all these years, she would never have thought Tywin Lannister capable of gentleness, but he was. He was careful and solemn in a way that made her chest tighten as he stood before her and she squared her shoulders, smiling to hide her fluttering nerves, wondering what he saw when he looked at her. Men looked at her, she was aware of that. For years, men had turned to her with a special glint in their eyes, their gazes travelling up and down her body when they thought it will pass unnoticed and she has found uses for it, the way a Lannister did.

And yet, Tywin’s gaze was the only one she truly valued, she could feel it now like a low hum in her bones. She has been his long before tonight; he has been hers in thoughts and plans, as well. And it was his open appreciation she would remember; it was his silent way of taking her and that would resound at the back of her memory all those long nights when he was not with her; it was the way his hand cradled the nape of her neck; it was the touch of his lips on hers; it was the way his body felt when pressed against her own.

Before, when he had draped his crimson-red cloak over her shoulders and sworn to protect her, he had given her one of his rare smiles and somehow it had made the whole feast easier to bear, made her resist a fourth cup of wine when offered, made her resist it again just now. This was long overdue; she did not want to misremember it in the morning.

“I am truly glad to be rid of all those people,” she said breathlessly when he began to remove her dress in all its intricate glory and shortly thereafter, she found, the art of forming words somewhat escaped her.

Much later, as the rain and thunder have subsided and they rested side by side in their bed, Joanna traced a small pattern of light across Tywin’s chest when the moonlight pierced through the curtains, thinking ‘I will be good to you, I swear it.’


Everyone advised her to endure the first year of marriage. After that, they said, it would become easier.

Joanna found her first year of marriage joyous - eventful and tiring, but joyous all the same.

Their first summer as husband and wife Tywin took her hunting in the forests surrounding Crakehall; they rode with a small entourage and the long roads ahead felt like they belong to the two of them. And this summer that was theirs, the land was quick to burn, like it was eager to soak up the light and the heat, to churn it out in long, warm evenings where the sun’s presence lingered in the air long after it has set.

They walked together on those evenings, keeping the others at a safe distance. She enjoyed walking by her husband’s side, enjoyed being near him and sharing her days with him; he seemed to take pleasure in having her there, in being listened to or even questioned. They were fortunate, she concluded on a particularly warm evening when they found solitude in a glade full of blackberry bushes, very fortunate indeed.

“My father has all but ruined the family,” Tywin told her one night. It came as no surprise so she merely nodded, listening to his thoughts on the matter.

“We ought to be relentless in our efforts to raise funds in the future.” She turned slightly so that they were facing each other. It was not until Tywin nodded his agreement that she realised she said 'we’ without even thinking about it.


Around them, things changed both subtly and abruptly.

Lord Tytos Lannister was craven, they said - if they spoke of him at all. Lecherous and craven, a stain on the Lannister banners, more pitied than loved. With his children’s futures secured and the burdens of his duties released from his shoulders, he took to unabashed drinking and whoring and did it so thoroughly that he was rarely showing his face unless forcibly dragged down to slumber through a formal occasion.

When Joanna’s father died unexpectedly from a persistent fever, his brother held a much too costly feast to accompany the ceremony and had to be carried back to his bedchamber right in the middle of it. There was a tremble of subdued laughter behind his back as he stumbled through the halls and Tywin stiffened in his seat, his eyes hard as flint. Joanna placed her hand on his arm under the table; he relaxed under her touch, but only for a second.

“You will have to excuse my lord father, I’m afraid,” Tywin said to her later, in their room. He sounded both tired and furious behind his composure, fragments of his true feelings slipping through small cracks of that steely armour. Sometimes she was amazed that she was the only one who could see it for what it is - a shield. “He is not much of a host these days. Or much of a man, for that matter.”

“Whatever his faults, he has raised a remarkable son.” Joanna said, suddenly more grateful towards him than she could say. “Nobody laughs at you, my love. I, least of all.”

A shadow crossed Tywin’s face at her words, as something in his features shifted slightly.

He was constantly changing this year, as well, growing darker and harsher in his role as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West in all but name. He worked untiringly, Joanna knew, demanding near-impossible things from the men around him – and from himself. There was no man in the Seven Kingdoms he expected more from, no man he compelled as mercilessly. At times, when she grazed her fingertips over the taut lines of his body, she imagined she could feel the whole extent of his ambition, pulsating under his skin, threatening to overthrow them all.

This was why she loved him: for being the cure for all the empty promises of their gilded halls and fabled ancestry, for being someone to be proud of and someone who was strong enough to endure it. For his pride. For his faults. For being bold and brave and burning.

When she told him this, his hands came around her waist, his gaze clouded with ferocious need and she kissed him so fiercely she drew blood from his lips.


The moon turned in the sky and the world switched colours around them. The summer burned out into a long autumn and everybody spoke of the winter while the roads turned yellow and red.

Whenever it was convenient and she wasn’t required elsewhere, she accompanied her husband as he worked and quickly learned that he held her opinion in the greatest esteem. On the rare occasion that she did not volunteer her thoughts on something, he asked her. Within months of their marriage, he had made her his advisor in most things and she was startled the afternoon she discovered that he has picked up her suggestion how to improve the trading routes to Lannisport and put his most trusted men on the task.

“You need not look so surprised,” he muttered over his trade maps and calculations when she mentioned it. “I would not have married you if I thought you a feeble-minded fool.”

“I was under the impression that it was my stunning beauty,” Joanna retorted, in good humour, because even if no living soul would believe her if she told them, her husband happened to smile on occasion.

“It worked in your favour, I must admit,” he said if he was in particular high spirits. If he was not, her japes and remarks were met with cool silence.


And when they didn’t see eye to eye, they fought. Like lions, if allowed.

Her husband was cold and cruel, she was furious and scornful. He managed to stay silent for days, nursing his grudges for all eternity; she made rash decisions and stormed off like a petulant child, raging violently but briefly. When she returned to the room, her anger washed away and forgotten, Tywin would still wallow in his own irritation and so they started over again.

“Ice and wildfire,” Genna said, rolling her eyes. “Seven save us all, dear cousin.”

“You have a way with him, though,” she added, eyes twinkling like they share something secret, just the two of them. They sat by the large windows facing Lannisport, taking their afternoon meal together. Genna Lannister was an infrequent guest but Joanna has come to look forward to her visits, however sporadic; she has a brazen edge to her that matched Joanna’s own and knew how to converse about something beyond domestic matters.

“You make him sound like an untamed horse,” Joanna half-smiled.

“Oh, aren’t they all?” Genna reached for another plum and swallowed it in a large bite.


Joanna miscarried three times the year after her husband was named Hand of the King.

Twice, she stood in the Hall of Heroes and listened to the waves, feeling the seed of life inside her amount to nothing, slipping away with every step she took, every heartbeat.

The third time, they were in King’s Landing and she wasn’t strong enough to hold back her tears as Tywin returned to their bedchamber. It seemed the air in the room was tinted with blood and her own failures; her hands shook uselessly as she turned away from his gaze. He was not a man who tolerated tears and she was not a woman who wept but this, she thought with her hands curled into fists, this was not right. There were some sorrows for which there was no compensation; there were some hollow hungers that could not be sated.

“It seems I will not give you any sons.”

“You will,” Tywin replied, a little too quickly.

“And if I don’t?” Her breath caught around the question. If I can’t?

“You will.” He sat down by edge of their bed, loosening the buckles of his formal wear and starting to undress. Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and mightier than the seven, she thought with a stitch of anger colouring her thoughts dark as night. She wondered if he truly believed he could issue a command for this, too.

Joanna took a deep breath, bracing herself for the words with sharp edges that ripped her thoughts to shreds. There were no childless Lannisters, a voice said in her head. There were no childless Lannisters and there were always ways.

But Tywin would not hear of it.

“You are my wife and you will be the mother of my children.” He said it with such force, such uncompromising determination, that Joanna never brought up the matter again, even as the days passed by and her monthly bleeding returned, over and over.


The sky was pale blue and framed by the lightest of clouds the day she felt, for the first time, the beat of another heart within her body. A soft thud, a flicker, and she closed her eyes, commanding the child inside her to stay where it was, to grow strong.

You are every bit a Lannister, she told it, pressing her fingers to the bulging stomach. There is lion blood in your veins and the sun, my beautiful child, does not set on the lions.

She was not surprised when Maester Pycelle told them he could feel the movement of more than one child.

Everything had a price and they had paid for this thrice already.


She gave birth at Casterly Rock in the middle of winter. Afterwards, she could not remember it; she knew it must have happened and she heard the stories of how it happened, but her own memories – or what would have been memories – were nothing but a long string of moments of darkness.
In the dark, she could see the clouds of her childhood again, dissolving like melting snow when she reached out. She aimed for them, her motions made slow and lethargic by the strange haze that filled her body, and they slipped away.

She was brought back to life and light by hands tugging at her, voices whispering over her head, liquids slipping between her lips and trickling down her throat until she had to cough and then her eyes opened, by their own making. The room seemed strangely bright, as though Casterly Rock was on fire. Joanna frowned at the sight of Maester Pycelle. Have I been so gravely ill?
As if he could read her mind, the old man nodded. “We feared we were going to lose you, my Lady.”

And then, softer: “You must not bear any more children, my Lady. It would be too great a risk. I shall personally brew you the finest moon tea henceforth.”

I have never cared for this man, she thought irritably, smoothing out a wrinkle on the blanket she was partly covered by. But Tywin claimed he was a stalwart.

“How are they?” Her words were weak, but she felt her body awaken with every breath; she was returning. “How are my children?”

“Both children are healthy and strong,” Tywin answered and the sound of his voice nearly brought tears to her eyes. I returned to you. “One boy and one girl.”

When she turned her head to look at him and saw him struggle for momentum, she knew the darkness has been real, knew that it did swallow her, that it was not merely her pained delirium. She was gone. For a little while, she had disappeared. There’s a streak of exhaustion in Tywin’s eyes, as though he has been through ten and forty days of war. She wanted to reach out and brush over his cheek with her hand, knowing how little he slept before battle. You always win, husband.

“Leave,” he commanded those who were surrounding her bed and within the blink of an eye they had hurried out of her bedchamber.

"It takes more than childbirth to slay a lioness,” she said to him when they were alone and she has seen the twins sleep, as intertwined as babies as they must have been before they entered this world. Hand against chest, foot pressed into the bend of a knee; they were the most beautiful things Joanna had ever laid eyes upon and she loved them already, feeling faint at the mere thought of their little bodies pressed together.

She gave her husband a grin, a sense of triumph engraved into her very body tonight. She was victorious, invincible.

Tywin didn’t smile back; he walked to the window to pull the curtains close, before sitting down by her bedside. Then he leaned down to kiss her forehead and she closed her eyes as her hands find his broad shoulders and strong arms, stroking them through his tunic, thinking yes, this is where I belong and I will always return to you.


One year later, Tywin formally assumed the lordship of Casterly Rock.

He wasn’t present when his father died ignobly and Joanna and the twins were visiting her mother when the news reached them. At the funeral they held for him, Tywin betrayed nothing of his contempt and scorn for his late lord father and Joanna stood beside him, their children in her arms and felt nothing but pride.

It belonged to them now. The future was theirs.

Tags: @fandomiteen (More, more, I’m so sorry! But this is the last one for tonight, I think! Love you, darling. <3)

The Angry Machine…

He is Adorable… an adorable murderous little machine…

Say Hi to Metal Sonic- who is one of my favorite villains and actually one of my favorite characters in the Sonic Series.

6 year old me would be so PROUD of 30 year old me drawing this. She would be chattering non stop about this. Yes, that tells you how old I am- the year Sonic CD came out, I was 6 years old. I was hooked long before that though… My love for the series has never really died. Its been tested at some points, but has not died. At this point- I don’t think it will.

The sketch for this came about in a shenanigan art drawpile stream thing with @madmadcat who has been super awesome about going “JUST DRAW WHATEVER YOU WANT!” And I fully admit to having way too much fun drawing  this… I then brought it into Clip Studio to finish after the stream ended, cause why not.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I, for one, am ready to kneel before my Metal Overlord… XDDDDD!

Sam Winchester Appreciation Week

Day 1 - Favorite Scenes

I dont have a single favorite, I have MANY! Im going to try and narrow the field down to a few of my most favorite Sam scenes.

One of my favorite scenes is a funny one in S11 Just My Imagination when Dean barks at Sam “You, me Library now… COME ON!” Sam slumps off like a 9 year old that is about to be scolded, It’s freakin adorable that my 6″4 badass monster killer, can lower his head, slouch his shoulders and become a little boy at the drop of a hat. 

Many great scenes happened in S11. Sam in Lucifers cage in O Brother Where Art Thou and Devil in the Details, brought some great moments. Jareds acting was fantastic. When Sam first gets zapped into the cage, Jared somehow perfectly showed Sam in pants shitting terror, while also remaining calm and focused. Not many actors can do both emotions at once. The final Sam monologue to Lucifer was fantastic! Though IMO if he had used the word “willing” instead of “ready” it would have been better. “Im willing to die. Im willing to watch the people I love die, but I am not willing to be your bitch!” works much better, dont you think? But the scene was great, and I was SO proud of him!

S12 The Way We Are had an abundance of great Sam moments, from the wall smashing scene and owning the fact he slipped into follow mode with the Britts because it was easier than leading, to taking control over the hunters and saying “I want you to follow me” to hugging Dean with so much love and promising to come back. But my favorite scene in that, Im going to save for last, because I think it’s my favorite scene ever.

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