“I Was Tired. I Was Weary Of War. I Wanted To Rest, To Laugh, To Plant Trees And See Them Grow. I Am

— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

there are old valyria velaryons everywhere to those with eyes that are willing to see

three-eyed raven

Ashara Dayne in His Mercy Burns

This GORGEOUS art is by the wonderful @amaati. I’ve been holding onto it for a while and am excited to share it!!

Here’s a little snippet of my latest chapter, Daenerys V.

In her dream, she found Madam Lyria, mask shedded and bloodied upon pale stone, Ashara Dayne sobbing with the blood of her womb, in a dress as beautiful as twilight.“Mama!” she called. “Muna!” But the woman ignored her, hands clasped upon her breast, nails slick with a babe’s life as crimson as the sky above the Doom.

On his way back, Jon swung wide of the column's line of march and took a shorter path through the thick of the wood. The sounds of man and horse diminished, swallowed up by the wet green wild, and soon enough he could hear only the steady wash of rain against leaf and tree and rock. It was midafternoon, yet the forest seemed as dark as dusk. Jon wove a path between rocks and puddles, past great oaks, grey-green sentinels, and black-barked ironwoods. In places the branches wove a canopy overhead and he was given a moment's respite from the drumming of the rain against his head. As he rode past a lightning-blasted chestnut tree overgrown with wild white roses, he heard something rustling in the underbrush. "Ghost," he called out. "Ghost, to me."

But it was Dywen who emerged from the greenery, forking a shaggy grey garron with Grenn ahorse beside him. The Old Bear had deployed outriders to either side of the main column, to screen their march and warn of the approach of any enemies, and even there he took no chances, sending the men out in pairs.

Art by @adelikashere for A Crown of False Spring. The best birthday gift ever.

It was… a girl-child. He’d not misjudged; even whilst standing she was a tiny slip of a thing. A strange thing. Her coltish frame was wrapped in a dove-grey gown, streaked with soil and trailing like mist about small bared feet. Dark chestnut hair tumbled loose and tangled past thin shoulders, framing windburnt cheeks flushed rosy with chill. Her eyes were sharp and wild, her teeth bared—and in her hands a tree branch, raised like a sword! Not a little doe then, thought Arthur. Then, a break in the clouds. A shaft of dying light broke through the clearing, striking the crown of the heart tree with sudden radiance. The deep scarlet leaves flared and shimmered like bloody embers. And there, half-lost amongst the high fronds, something swayed. A shield. Upon it, the painted face of a weirwood, grinning wide and red.

favorite thing in asoiaf is that the stark family tree is just filled with haters in every generation. theon stark brandon snow alaric stark cregan stark even ned's brother brandon and lyanna too. even the current kids jon snow robb sansa and arya all have some kendrick lamar level of beef w at least one person. brandon the builder spawned an entire genre of haters

Mac Miller

I found a drawing I never finished in middle school and it made me sad because I've completely forgotten how to art and haven't even picked up a pencil in years

"More Frills!" I say.

Alina Court Attire Redesign

Artist's Note: I looked at the design I made for Alina's Court Alchemist outfit, and something just didn't seem right to me. It was too simple. Dare I say...too plain So, I decided to add a few more details in small areas and I think it adds so much more to her outfit! I am satisfied!

Down below is the revised outfit concept ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Artist's Note: Not that different. Just the same image with a few more frills on one outfit.