- TUMBLR WAS TIGHT ON MONEY SO THEY HAD TWO OPTIONS: SELL IT OR SHUT IT DOWN
- YES YAHOO BOUGHT IT
- NO THEY’RE NOT GONNA SCREW IT UP.
- BECAUSE TUMBLR IS STILL INDEPENDENT
- YOU BETTER BE GRATEFUL BECAUSE YAHOO FREAKING RESCUED YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE FANDOMS AND BLOGGING AND CRAP.
- THAT’S RIGHT,
- AND DAVID KARP IS STILL “OUR DADDY” NOW SHUT UP ABOUT “STEPMOMMY”
Red….the blood of angry fans…black…the dark of Yahoo past…Red…a ship about to dawn…black…the web that ends at laaaast *As in Yahoo*
seriously, my feels are way off the scale for all this. Unexpected!
(from here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MNBYDvZglU&list=FLEG25vJj9Zbs9a0IM009ALg - which has a few more seconds of film but no actual trailer sound )
//I just want to run my fingers through their hair..
Thorin Oakenshield WIP.
Not really focusing on extreme poses and backgrounds just yet..
// My first [serious because I did quick sketches] digital work ever since I had my tab last february.
Constructive Criticism welcome!
“Do not belittle storytelling. It is as ancient as the world itself. A great magic if you would consider. To be able to weave the stories to reality with only words as your tools. Admirable.”…
A story about dragons. For her. For descendant of one, who killed a dragon. Alannada held her breath.
But this story was full of love and sadness.
"I…" she tried to tell something. "Ai… I thank you."
"Forgive me for not picking any happier ones. It is the first story that came to my mind. It is rather… a little… depressing." Lirin mustered a small smile. "Is it to your liking?"
“Do not belittle storytelling. It is as ancient as the world itself. A great magic if you would consider. To be able to weave the stories to reality with only words as your tools. Admirable.” She said with reverence. “Is it not?”
"It is," Alannada nodded. "But I am stlii learning.My tales are wonderful, indeed."
"And I have one ask for you. Please, give me one tale."
Being a scribe, Lirin was surprised when she was asked for a tale. Indeed she may as well be a storyteller but she rarely uses such talent for the children of Middle-Earth, especially to those of her dwarven kin. So she was surprised to be asked by an adult, and an elf nonetheless for a tale of her own.
So she cleared her throat and made up her mind for which story to tell. She hesitated for a moment then took a deep breath, her countenance changing as her voice take a different tune.
"Once in a land not our own, somewhere outside Middle-Earth and maybe in a world its own. A land where dragons existed as well as great weapons of spears and bows. It is not much different, but also worlds apart.
Alas, a vocal painting of the land is not what I am here to tell, so I will not dwell on that.
There lived a young woman, barely out of her teens, who lived in the streets and tried to survive. She took work where she could find it, and when all is lost she stole.”
She paused, letting everything sink in. To herself and to her listener.
"Days of hunger went by and she walked through the streets of her town, wandering and wondering how to find her next meal, if there was a next meal.
Suddenly screams came forth and a dark shadow loomed over the sky. A dragon! A dragon with scales of earth and as thick as the rocks flew over her. A dragon! It was roaring and breathing fire to the sky making it dark as ash and soot fell from the sky.
The girl was far from scared, it was the first time she saw a dragon up close! Excited and amazed, she ran towards the direction where it went. It was stupidity indeed, but when curiosity pulls at you with a strength of a thousand bears there’s no escape.”
"So she ran." Her voice came into a tired and weary halt. A statement of doom and fate. "Death knocketh at her doorstep. with each step, yet her eyes are wide with wonder and she ran. She climbed stairs and jump through rafts until she was in the peak of a great altar. Before she could stand though….
Something hit her from behind, strong enough to make her stagger and fall to the ground. Strong enough that when she looked up the sky was once again clearing up and the dragon was no where to be found. Disappointed she looked around for whatever hit her and to her shock.
It was a dragon youngling. Large enough to be cradled in her arms like a babe. The youngling was whimpering and whining, blood pooling around him as his wing was ripped and a large splinter of wood was buried through.”
A bitter and sad smile crossed her lips. A complete difference from her expressions if ever she did tell the story to children.
"So she took care of the youngling to health. She stitched his wing back and worked even harder to feed them both. In a good way, the youngling was strong enough to chase chickens.
Then one day, the great dragon returned and took the youngling away. She might have realized that it was the mother but blinded by despair and anger. For who wouldn’t when the only one who understood you and gave you companionship was taken away from you?
Without second thought she left to a journey to where the dragon dwells on the north. She travelled through deserts of sand and snow, fought mercenaries and even dragon hunters. In the end she arrived to the dragon’s cave. And there stood the great dragon and the youngling. Her eyes trained to the youngling all she wanted was to have her returned. Her companion and her only family.
So she and the great dragon fought, armed only with a spear she fought with blind anger and vengeance. Her hood came off in her fury as she slashed and dodged. The dragon on the other hand stopped and the spear landed straight to its heart. Blood pooling down to her boots the girl stopped and stared.
A great whimper tore the air of the cave as the dragon’s eyes softened in defeat and albeit sorrowful joy. The girl looked down and saw to her horror, the very wing she stitched now stretched and grown. And her face’s reflection in the blood.
Time has passed and her youngling was now a dragon.
Time has passed and her youth gave way to age. Her silver hair and wrinkled skin a manifestation.
Time has passed and Death passed the once closed door.”