#Joanna Nova

[retrocompmx]

Un día como hoy (17 de noviembre) en el diseño tipográfico

El 17 de noviembre de 1940 fallece el diseñador de tipografías y escultor inglés, Arthur Eric Rowton Gill a los 58 años. Descrito como “el más grande artesano del siglo XX. Un genio del diseño de tipografías”. Diseño las tipografías Perpetua, Gill Sans, Joanna Nova, Solus, entre otras. Lamentablemente en 1989, se dan a conocer que las creencias religiosas de Gill le llevaban a cometer abuso sexual en contra de sus hijas adolescentes, aventuras extramaritales y conductas de depravación zoofílica. Toda una fichita el tipo #retrocomputingmx #ericgill #fonts

[nthflower]

God I missed arakko. Arakko my beloved we need a arakko book now. Khora, Syzya, Craig of NASA, Lactuca, Genesis and her children, Looloo and her brother, Zsen, Isca, Solem etc. I missed them a lot.

Also I had theories about how Syzya is Kurt's aunt and khora and Jono chamber were related somehow.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Joanna Rhinestone Chainmail Top from Fashion Nova (sold out)

[honeylavendermilktea]

all clubs should let me pick the music bc I would play really good music and then I would play really slow songs that I personally enjoy and no one else likes and then I would play really hype songs that everyone loves and then I’d play a song that only I like then I’d play various sound effects and I would have so much fun💕💕💕💖💖❤️💕 everyone else can leave if they don’t like my perfect flawless music

[fanartsgalore]

X-Men: Red Vol. 2 #10

Russell Dauterman - X-Men Red 

[novaursa]

hey nova, could you make sandor x reader or tywin x reader (what came naturally for you). the reader is princess of dorne. maybe the reader heard they don't want to marry her, saying she's plain, etc. maybe angst hehehe. but if i also want them to grovel at the reader, like regret everything as they falling in love, but the reader has trust issues so doesnt want to give in.

You Who Tried

- Summary: Some of the greatest tragedies never had a chance to be mourned.

- Pairing: martell!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: I've made this little more serious. I hope you don't mind.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, its warm glow dancing against the dark wood-paneled walls of the solar. Tywin Lannister sat behind his carved desk, a half-empty goblet of Arbor gold in his hand, untouched correspondence splayed before him and ignored. The candlelight cast shades across his face, aging him more than the years ever could. He stared into the wine as though it might whisper answers, his expression grim, eyes dark with something unspoken. It had been a year. One year since that night, the night of his wedding to the Princess of Dorne. One year since her hand had trembled within his own as they danced before the court. One year since her eyes, wide and bright like twin suns, had searched his face with a reverence that had startled him more than he had ever let on. He had been a conqueror that day, a lion who had claimed not just a bride but a realm of southern alliances and future security. Yet now, as he sat alone in silence, that night lingered like a ghost, pressing cold fingers against his spine.

He remembered her chambers clearly—fragrant with orange blossoms and lemons, the silk of the Martell banners swaying slightly from the windows cracked open to the cool night air. She had waited for him on the bed, not yet unclothed, her posture straight despite her bare feet and the loosened braid that draped over her shoulder. She looked regal even then, even young and untouched, like someone carved of ivory and sunlight. He remembered the color of her eyes—amber ringed in deeper gold—and how they lifted to meet his as he entered the room. There had been no fear in her, only that dangerous thing he now knew better than to underestimate: hope.

"You came," you said softly, as though you hadn’t expected him to. Your voice was calm but your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles pale against the fabric of your nightdress.

"It is our wedding night," Tywin had replied, his tone clipped, precise. Duty had always come easily to him—whether steel or oaths or flesh. He had not come to wound you. He had come because it was expected, because alliances were forged not just in ink but in blood and consummation. He had steeled himself against softness, as he always did. He had not meant to be cruel.

You had not shied from his touch. You had looked up at him as he approached, your eyes searching—questioning, yes, but trusting too. Your breath hitched when he took your face in his hand, tilting it slightly so he could study you better. You were beautiful, undeniably, and you smelled of sun-warmed citrus and spices he’d only ever encountered in war campaigns. Your skin was gold-touched, your lips parted in anticipation, and your gaze so open it unsettled him. No one looked at him like that. Not even Joanna had looked at him like that—not with such innocent belief. You had looked at him like he might be more than a lion in a cage of stone and obligation. You looked at him as though he could be tender.

"Will it hurt?" you had asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For a moment," he replied. "But you will be fine."

You had nodded, trusting him. Trusting him.

Tywin downed the rest of his wine in one swallow, the memory burning hotter than the alcohol. He could still feel the silken glide of your skin beneath his hands, the way your body arched hesitantly beneath him, and how you whispered his name the first time he entered you. Not my lord, not Lion of the Rock. You said Tywin like it was something precious. And he, in turn, had been careful—perhaps not gentle, but measured. Efficient. He had kissed you once, more out of necessity than affection, and when it was over, he had remained long enough to see the blood staining the sheets, a grim satisfaction curling in his chest. The seal was done. The alliance had been made. The honor of both houses preserved.

You had turned your face toward him as he dressed again, still beneath the sheets, your lashes damp and cheeks flushed. “Will you stay?” you asked, your voice soft but not pleading. “Just for a little while.”

He had fastened the last of his buttons, adjusted his belt, and replied, “There is much to see to in the morning.” He had turned without looking back and left your chambers in silence, his boots loud against the cold stone. He had not seen your face fall—only imagined it later, after the door had closed. But the image had haunted him nonetheless. A flicker of something had dimmed in you that night, not extinguished, but altered. He had seen it the next morning when you entered the Great Hall, clothed in Lannister crimson rather than Martell orange. You had smiled, performed your duties flawlessly, but your eyes had changed. There had been a shadow where before there was fire.

That was the beginning. Or perhaps it was the end. He had not touched you again.

Tywin poured more wine with an unsteady hand and leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. A year had passed, and you had been the perfect wife in every way—dutiful, gracious, political where required. But never again had you looked at him like you had that night. You had stopped asking him to stay. Stopped meeting him in the gardens. Stopped waiting up for him. You had grown cold—not in anger, but in quiet, resigned indifference. And he had let you. Gods forgive him, he had let you.

He stared into the fire and thought of the girl who once looked at him like he could be more than the sum of his titles. Tywin Lannister felt something unfamiliar curdle inside his chest. Regret.

The halls of Casterly Rock echoed with silence at this hour, the keep heavy with the stillness that only came after the lords had gone to bed and the servants had stilled their steps. Tywin sat again in his solar, though this time the goblet in his hand had long gone cold. He wasn’t drinking tonight. He didn’t need wine to summon the memories that plagued him now—not when they came so easily, like ghosts waiting only for him to be alone. His mind wandered once more, against his will, to her voice, to the lilting cadence of it, full of music and color, always vibrant even when it grated against his composure. She had tried, gods forgive him, she had tried so very hard.

In the weeks that followed their wedding, you had not been content to merely exist beside him. You had sought him out—in the garden walks, in the solar, even in the corridor outside the council chamber, always with that same determined grace. You had come to him like sun rising over red dunes, warm and brilliant and strange. He had not known what to do with that. He had not been taught to receive warmth. His world had been forged in steel and stone, not sand and sunlight.

“Do you know how the first Martell prince took his throne?” you had asked him once, seated across from him in the solar after supper, a book open in your lap, your eyes glinting with curiosity rather than pride. You were not boasting—never boasting. You simply wanted to share a story.

“I imagine it involved blood,” Tywin had said dryly, not looking up from the document he was reviewing.

You had laughed softly. “All thrones do. But he did it through marriage. He wed the warrior-queen Nymeria. She brought ten thousand ships and a whole people with her. He gave her equal rule and took her name instead of forcing her to take his.”

Tywin had looked up then, faintly irritated. “And what lesson am I to take from this, my lady?”

You tilted your head, considering. “That strength does not always look like conquest, my lord. Sometimes, it is in yielding without being defeated.”

He had said nothing after that. He had returned to his writing, and you had closed your book, the light in your eyes flickering but not extinguished. Not yet.

There were more nights like that. You brought him fruits he did not eat, books he did not read, stories he did not ask to hear. You told him of the Red Mountains, of the basilisk-infested ruins of Yeen, of your mother who once rode a white sand steed faster than the Dornish wind. You spoke of your eldest brother with reverence and mischief, how he used to carry you across the hot stones of the palace barefoot, so you wouldn’t burn your feet. You told these things with a softness that was never self-serving—always a hope that he might say something back, that he might offer a sliver of his world in return.

But Tywin had never learned to speak in the language of affection. His tongue knew the taste of order, of correction, of decree—but not of warmth. He had not asked about your brother. He had not touched the slices of blood orange you left on a silver plate beside his wine. He did not turn when you stood behind his chair with a hesitant hand near his shoulder, waiting to be invited closer.

And yet, you tried.

You tried still when you invited him to walk the gardens with you under the moonlight, and he refused. You tried when you sat beside him with parchment and ink, hoping to write to Sunspear together. You tried when you sang beneath your breath, old Dornish songs with melodies so foreign they ached in his ears. You tried when you sat across from him at meals and smiled, always smiled, even when he didn’t look up.

And then—then, one day, you stopped.

He hadn’t noticed it at first. He was a busy man. The day-to-day demands of rule did not leave time for frivolous thoughts of wives and gardens and stories from far-off deserts. But the silence grew. The tray of untouched fruit no longer appeared. The space beside him at supper became filled with cold conversation and absent eyes. You sat like a statue now, your face perfectly arranged, your voice no longer lit with curiosity, only civility. You ceased to seek him. You ceased to speak of Nymeria, of old songs, of the brother who carried you barefoot. You ceased to try.

It was then that Tywin had looked up from his writing one evening, a line of ink drying crooked on the page, and realized the solar was too quiet. No footsteps approached. No voice asked if he needed anything, if he had eaten, if he would walk with you. There was no scent of citrus or sun-warmed spices lingering near his desk. The absence struck him like a blade between the ribs.

He rose without thought and went to your chambers that night. He had not been there since the wedding. He expected—he didn’t know what he expected. Perhaps the old you, the hopeful you, sitting in your chair by the window. Instead, he found the fire burned low and you asleep already, turned away from the door. You had drawn the curtains around your bed. He could only see the shape of you beneath the coverlets—still, unmoving, far away.

He stood there for longer than he should have, a shadow among shadows, before turning and leaving in silence.

It was too late.

And Tywin Lannister, who had bent kingdoms to his will and never wept for anything—not for his father, not for his wife, not for his pride—realized that for the first time in his life, he had lost something not because it had been taken from him, but because he had let it die.

[thelilylav]

Y'know what? Fuck it (gives u guys a list of poc artists to listen to cause the white ppl on the music side of tumblr have been embarassing me)

List is under the cut, and warning bc I made it very long

Rock:

Los Abuelos De La Nada

Gesu No Kiwami Otobe

Chuck Berry

Ben E. King

Los Prisoneros

Ahmed Fakroun (ok this one's french art rock but in my book it still counts)

Burnout Syndromes (been fucking w them since I got into Haikyuu lmao)

Infinity Song (their hater song genuinely gets me every time LMAO)

People in the Box

N.E.R.D (my god if u don't know them.. idk dude my brother has been obsessed w them for forever so i just was not getting away regardless lol)

Punk/Punk Rock (& other punk subgenres):

Nova Twins (u must listen to them it's just the way it's gotta be guys)

Rina Sawayama (her hatred of Matty Healy is so attractive. i cannot believe i found her two years ago cause i still remember i would not shut up when i first heard her music it was so good)

BABYMETAL (the way their band name just straight up screams at people gets me every time lmaooo)

Indie:

The Younger Lovers

Mashrou Leila

Stella Jang

Shak SYrn (Jenni is on repeat in my room at any given moment)

Steve Lacy (if u listen to more than just Bad Habit u will find an actuall amazing discography)

Jenny Nuo (i have been OBSESSED w her music since like 2021 ish and it is a crime she hasn't blown up more imo)

Nujabes

Hemlocke Springs (oooo i hate that she does not get more love!!! synth pop and alt indie is such a fun niche like!!!)

Lyn Lapid (in my head she's huge but i have recently learned that artists i think r super popular may be unknown to an entire genre of ppl soo)

Megagonefree (found them on ig and omg!! PLS go check them out genuinely)

boa (i am once again shaming u if u don't know them)

Wallice

JAZZ (in all caps bc I fucking LOVE jazz no it's not dead go listen to jazz rn motherfuckers):

Idris Muhammad

Esperanza Spalding

Joanna Wang (ok she does pop and folk music too but idk she felt most appropriate here)

SAMARA JOY (put. some. respect. on. her. name. i would actually go to war for her i am not kidding. also this is in all caps bc MY MOM GOT TO SEE HER LIVE??? AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHO SHE WAS PLS I WAS SO MAD OMGGG but i've been promised tickets next time so we're good)

Sade (my og one and only)

Funk:

Fadoul

George Clinton (i mean he's just a classic yknow)

Parliament (Give Up the Funk can make me dance like no other i swear)

Stevie Wonder (i mean.. like if we're on the topic of classics anyway then...)

Michael Jackson/The Jackson 5 (moreso his earlier stuff if my memory isn't lying to me.. look it's been a second since i listened to mj IM SORRY i am a busy person ok TT)

R&B:

Valerie June

Maxine Nightingale (if u don't listen to her... how do u have fun? actual question i put her on every time i need to feel happy atp)

Boney. M (technically they're reggae but they also count as R&B so idk.. i'm just putting them here if anyone wants me to move them later i will)

Amahla (Ca Suffit was so good and got me to check out the rest of her music, YOU SHOULD TOO!!)

Mary J Blige (not to judge but like... if u don't know THE queen then idk how to help you tbh)

SZA (wouldn't be a list without her in it tbh. i'm in love w her not even joking abt that)

Kali Uchis (to this day i cannot believe i saw her live i'm truly never getting a better moment than that omggg i have such a big crush on her anyway)

Aupinard (if ever u need to just vibe, this is the man u go to.)

Wejdene (TU PARLES AVEC UNE ANISSA MA MOI J'APPELLE WEJDENE- she's been my day 1 since i was like thirteen i can't even lie)

Annisse (just found out she only has like ~500 listeners on spotify??? apparently i'm one of them tho lmao so yeah go get that number up guys i love her too much for this disrespect)

Sister Sledge

Cheryl Lynn

Reggae:

Daddy Yankee (he's an honourable mention cause i couldn't not lmao)

Skindred (they're a reggae/metal fusion band and i will shut up abt them when i'm dead bc Nobody rewired my brain chemistry!!)

Manu Chao

Toquinho (i was so convinced this man was bossa nova but apparently he is reggae and i need to do some music theory review)

Folk:

Sushi Soucy (oh the things I Deserve to Bleed had me going thru in 2020/2021)

Miriam Makeba (Pata Pata should be enough to get anyone listening to her, just saying)

Lead Belly (do urself a favour and do some research on this man, i'm not kidding even if u don't like folk music u should know abt him- ESPECIALLY if u like Nirvana that'll make sense later trust)

Pop:

Corinne Bailey Rae (she has so much good music that gets ignored bc of Put Your Records On so.. yeah go listen to Black Rainbows she's only gotten better as time goes on lol)

Dru (he is for any person who likes ke$ha. i'm so serious he is early 2000s in a bottle and i love his music ur rlly missing out if u ignore him)

Monique Hasbun (found her recently! she's a Palestinian, Mexican and Salvadorian artist who plays around with Latin pop and does a lot of fusion music. she's dope go listen to her fr)

Mohammad Assaf (he made the Palestine song that's been going around ig a lot, but his other stuff is great as well. he's another Palestinian artist, so once again, go check him out!!)

Pinkpanthress (i LOVE her she's so much fun to just vibe to and idk how anyone couldn't have heard of her atp but then again this is the sight that didn't know who drake was so... sigh. go listen to her if u don't already!!)

Aliyah's Interlude (BROOO if u haven't heard of her actually go listen rn i'm so serious she is so good i can'ttttt ok bye)

Veondre (had a collab w Aliyah on It Girl and is gonna be releasing her own music very soon! she's trans too so go give her some love)

Shalco (wasn't sure whether to put him here or in hip hop, but his stuff is very very good either way)

Ado (she's j-pop but it's a form of pop so into the pop category she goes)

Moon (she's got two songs out rn, Moonlight and Seoul City Drift, and both r going on loop in my head at all times)

Jay Chou (call me a basic bitch idc he's good ok)

Atarashii Gakko! (i wouldn't say they're j-pop, but google did, so i'm just going w it lol)

flowerovlove (just trust me on this one)

El Tio Gamboin (Los Gatitos is such a cute song)

Grace Chang (see note for Jay Chou)

King Gnu (for all my j-pop lovers... come get ur man)

Salsa:

Lalo Rodriguez (included this genre specifically so i could mention him)

Adalberto Santiago

Roberto Roena (he's a classic i can't lie)

Hector Lavoe (i think he might be the most popular one in this genre lol)

City Pop (this is its own genre bc i literally did a presentation in high school abt it and i'll be damned if i don't flex my knowledge now):

Mariya Takeuchi

Miki Matsubara (my QUEEN my everything my-)

Anri

Taeko Onuki (one of my most listened to artists last yr for a Reason)

Kaoru Akimoto

Kingo Hamada

Jun Togawa

Bossa Nova:

Joao Gilberto (ooo he gets me every time i fucking love this man)

Elizeth Cardoso

Johnny Alf (forgot this man the first time around my bad BUT he's called the father of bossa nova for a reason so)

Hip Hop:

Flyana Boss (they're sooooo good i actually can't gush enough i have never felt so girlypop listening to music before go listen to them!! found the duo through ig so yeah if u want go follow them on there too to show support)

Lil Uzi Vert (for any emo lovers, go check out his song Werewolf with Bring Me the Horizon it is SO GOOD)

Samyra (she's slowly curing my body dysmorphia lol)

Yame (there's an accent on the e but idk how to do that on tumblr. anyway my ass loves french rap and before him i was stuck with klub des loosers so he saved my faith in the genre i can't even lie)

Lay Bankz (u cannot be chronically online and not have heard Ick yet, but i'm repping her regardless bc SHE'S SO GOOD)

A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie (HEAR ME OUT-)

Kaliii (Area Codes was one of my most listened to songs last year... as it should be tbh)

Miguel (he does R&B too i just first listened to him bc of his collab w J.Cole sooo)

Tyler the Creator (putting him on here just to brag abt getting to see him in concert lmao)

XXXTentacion (he has been mourned and talked abt an insane amount, but he deserves it i'm not even gonna joke on this one. his artistry is insane and he deserves some love if u haven't listened to him yet)

Kendrick Lamar (i mean i've been reblogging stuff abt him enough. Mr. Morale was actually the album that made me start Listening listening to him and i'm honestly glad it was bc that album is still my favourite to this day if i'm being totally honest)

Renaissauce (criminally and i do mean CRIMINALLY underrated)

[pearlofthewoods]

Music Shuffle Game!!

ty for the tag @messrsrarchives <3

rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same

1. Someone - Mila Drumke (a song I discovered on the soundtrack of the iconic 1994 lesbian film ‘Go Fish’)

2. La Vita - Beverly Glenn-Copeland

3. I’m Not In Love - 10cc

4. Colors Change - Tank and the Bangas

5. It Ain’t Me Babe - Joan Baez

6. Everytime - Ethel Cain (Spotify Singles cover)

7. A Nova Vida - Carter Burwell (from ‘The Twilight Saga’) lol 🤦‍♀️

8. The Ones Ahead - Beverly Glenn-Copeland (a beautiful song about the queer and trans community, protecting queer youth and safeguarding the future of the lgbtq+ community)

9. Lilac Wine - Jeff Buckley’s version

10. Halcyon on and on - Orbital (the final scene music from mean girls lol)

and lastly, one special extra song, because none of her music is on Spotify but I’ve been playing her CDs on loop and I just couldn’t leave her out…

11. Time As A Symptom - Joanna Newsom (one of my favourite songs ever, u can find it on YouTube).

new tags (no pressure to join in if u don’t want to <3): @bi-dykes @autumnknight @incubationformadness @tinkthatsme @bisexual-coala @watermelonrindsstuff @delusionalme8 @amphobee

[theanticool]

Joanna Jedrzejczyk vs. Claudia Gadelha 2 | TUF 23 Finale, 2016

For my money, the best women's UFC title fight in history. For women's history month, let us look back at the 2016 rematch between champion Joanna Jedrzejczyk and challenger Claudia Gadelha. Strange to think there are "hardcore" fans today who haven't seen this fight (which is almost a decade old?!).

The UFC strawweight division was introduced in 2014 with a season of TUF deciding the inaugural champion after the UFC bought the red hot Invicta FC strawweight division. But, for those paying close attention, it seem pretty certain that the actual best strawweights might not be on the show.

Strawweights Joanna Jedrzejczyk and Claudia Gadelha got signed separately and were competing in the UFC as TUF was playing out. Joanna Jedrzejczyk was a former kickboxer who had made waves in Europe, beating up WMMA legend Rosi Sexton. Gadelha was a hard nosed wrestle-grappler coming out of the esteemed Nova Uniao camp in Brazil. The first time these two met was in 2014, in a #1 contenders bout to decide who would take on the recently crowned Carla Esparza for the title first. Jedrzejczyk would controversially win out as she managed to score a huge knockdown that swung the fight to her favor (though many believed Gadelha was robbed). Like I said, it was heavily believed that the winner of that fight was the actual best 115lber on the planet and JJ proved it by destroying Esparza with relative ease. Once she won the belt, it was only a matter of time before these two clashed again.

And so, in 2016 the two met again. This time for 5 rounds. And it was an instant classic and was on the shortlist for best fight of 2016.

[charlicpace]

NAME INSPO: mcfly edition ! all names are mcfly ( or mcfly-adjacent ) inspired, and some are definitely a stretch lol.

ada

anne

ash

bea

bear

blaze

bliss

bridget

buddy

buzz

carrie

cassiopeia

cooper

cozbi

danny

dawn

dougie

ellie

elio

eleanora

ember

fletcher

frankie

gaia

georgia

giorgina

giovanna

harry

honey

hope

izzy

james

january

jerry

joanna

josephine

joy

judd

kate

lara

lindsay

lockie

lola

lucia/n

lucky

lux

mario

marty

matt

max

nova

ocean

paul

perry

rain

ray

ruby

rupert

scarlett

stella

strawberry

sunny

tom

theia

violet

willis

ximena

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Brainwaves Bios: Doctor Raymond Stantz (1984)

The Heart of The Ghostbusters Doctor Raymond Stantz, PhD

The heart of the Ghostbusters. Raymond is the one who is most interested in ghosts, and will often be the most interested in ghosts, and will often be the most excited when encountering something supernatural. He provides knowledge of folklore to compliment Egon's scientific knowledge when figuring out how to deal with a ghost.

"Everything was fine with our system, until the power grid was shut off by dickless here."

Name

Full Legal Name: Raymond Francis Stantz

First Name: Raymond

Meaning: From the Germanic name 'Raginmund', composed of the elements 'Regin' 'Advice, Counsel, Decision' and 'Munt' 'Protection'.

Pronunciation: RAY-mund

Origin: English, French

Middle Name: Francis

Meaning: English form of the Late Latin name 'Franciscus' meaning 'Frenchman', ultimately from the Germanic tribe of the Franks, who were named for a type of spear that they used.

Pronunciation: FRAN-sis

Origin: English, French

Surname: Stantz

Meaning: Variation on 'Stanz', a habitational name from places called 'Stans' or 'Stantz' in Austria and Switzerland

Pronunciation: STAN-ts

Origin: German

Titles: Doctor, Professor, Mr

Nicknames: Ray, Francine (By Venkman), Frank (By Nova)

Characteristics

Age: 32

Gender: Male. He/Him Pronouns

Race: Human (Touched by the 'Psychic Realm')

Nationality: American Citizen. Born in America

Ethnicity: White

Birth Date: July 1st 1952

Sexuality: Straight

Religion: Non-Religious (Formerly Christian)

Native Language: English

Known Languages: English, Latin, Hebrew, Greek, Spanish, Arabic, Norse, Phoenician, Chinese

Relationship Status: Single

Astrological Sign: Cancer

Actor: Dan Aykroyd

Geographical Characteristics

Birthplace: Cutchogue, Long Island, New York

Current Residence: North Moore Street, New York, New York

Appearance

Height: 6'0" / 183 cm

Weight: 200 lbs / 91 kg

Eye Colour: Heterochromatic (1 Green, 1 Brown)

Hair Colour: Brown

Hair Dye: Once dyed his hair blond in college

Body Hair: Hairy

Facial Hair: Clean Shaven

Tattoos: (As of Jan 1984) None

Piercings: None

Scars: None

Health and Fitness

Allergies: None

Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Social Drinker, Smoker

Illnesses/Disorders: None Diagnosed (Autistic)

Medications: None

Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Affiliated Groups: Ghostbusters (Founding Member)

Friends: Peter Venkman, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore, Janine Melnitz, Dana Barrett, Louis Tully (Sort-Of), Mars Teufel, Nova Teufel

Significant Other: None (Crush: Nova Teufel)

Previous Partners: None of Note

Parents: Silas Stantz (Deceased, Father), Joanna Stantz (Deceased, Mother, Née Gwerder)

Parents-In-Law: None

Siblings: Carl Stantz (36, Brother), Jean Stantz (30, Sister)

Siblings-In-Law: Nicola Stantz (34, Carl's Wife, Née Woodrow)

Nieces & Nephews: Tyler Stantz (12, Nephew), Jacob Stantz (8, Nephew), Saffron Stantz (10, Niece)

Children: None

Extras

Level of Education: Engineering PhD, Metallurgy PhD, Astronomy PhD, Chemistry PhD, History PhD, Physics PhD, Parapsychology PhD

Occupation: Ghostbuster

Employer: Ghostbusters

Expertise:

Parapsychologist

Engineering Expert

Metallurgist

Astronomer

Biologist (Micro & Marine Biology)

Chemist

Historian

Marine Spongiologist

Physicist

Architectural Knowledge

Polyglot

Occult Literature Knowledge

Faults:

Nicotine Addicted

Prone to 'Shut Down's

Can be Controlled via Twisting His Ears

Susceptible to Possession

Backstory: In his childhood, Ray Stantz went to Camp Waconda. Sitting at the campfire and roasting Stay Puft Marshmallows became one of his fondest memory. In his adulthood, Dr. Ray Stantz worked in the private sector at one point but he was not adept at producing the results they wanted. By 1984, Ray's parents passed away and he inherited the home he was born in. Ray went to work at Columbia University and studied the paranormal phenomena with Dr. Peter Venkman and Dr. Egon Spengler. Egon and Ray were usually the first to interview case subjects, even people Peter called "schizos" no matter how far-fetched their stories were.

[the-elevan-shitshow]

It's a bank holiday today, so Dex has traveled to the First Bank of Lime Meadow

Dex: good morning, I got a call the other day...about some business my mother had with your bank? Her name was Nova Joanna Lacey

Maya: oh! Ms Lacey! Of course, please follow me

[evilmeanlesbian]

Joanna brought Nova and Ferdinand to the cat park!

[kttysoftpaws]

então ... quem é a novata da tag 1x1 que nem se presta para ajeitar bonitinho um blog e, pior, faz um post as pressas porque está doida para jogar??? prazer, sou eu, tua mais nova partner: kitty!

brincadeiras a parte, é basicamente isso. tenho alguns plots e informações básicas sobre mim abaixo do read more e, se você tiver interesse em jogar comigo, plsss manda mensagem ou se manifeste neste post, amém obrigada.

sobre a player

básico: tenho 21 anos, prefiro pronomes femininos e não tenho triggers que possam vir à jogo (estupro).

preferências: gosto do bom e velho real life, não sou grande em nenhum tipo de fantasia ou sci-fi, e curto bem pouco de apocalipses zumbi kkkk. meu negócio é desenvolver as relações mesmo! quando o cenário começa a ficar muito detalhado eu já não curto tanto jogar! jogo tanto personagem fem quanto male.

smut: smuto, mas não é requisito para jogar comigo. se você não smuta, não tem problema nenhum.

age gap: não me importo com grandes diferenças de idade contanto que o personagem mais novo já tenha vinte e um anos.

plataforma: para jogo seria tumblr ou discord e a de comunicação também.

jogos (gêneros podem mudar!)

aladdin, em que ele é um rapaz pobre que finge ser rico para impressionar a it girl jasmine, nos tempos modernos. pensei numa vibe gossip girl, rich kids.

no mesmo sentido da anterior, rapunzel cresceu em uma bolha por pais mega protetores que calculam cada passo dado pela filha. quando finalmente tem uma crise existencial e percebe que está perdendo o rumo da própria vida, se revolta e começa a procurar a companhia de flynn rider, o maior rebelde da cidade que conhece.

malévola costumava ser a melhor no fazia. consagrada em sua área de atuação, era referência internacional, e além disso, um ícone para a sociedade; uma verdadeira deusa que desceu das estrelas para ajudar o mundo a se tornar um lugar melhor. o rei stefan, por outro lado, se sentia enciumado. afinal, ele era rei (só que ele só possuía esse título de importante, porque não fazia nada que um rei deveria fazer, ele queria a fama e não os encargos, sabe?). e como um rei ele agiria. seduziu malévola e lhe roubou o que lhe era mais precioso (ooc: uma pesquisa? um trabalho? um software? a gente decide depois!), o que viria a ser o acúmulo de todo o conhecimento e experiência, que mudaria tudo! o rei stefan roubou de sua autoria e ficou com a fama, e malévola acabou perdendo todo o encanto e voltou para as sombras.

joanna foi o inferno pessoal de marni durante o colégio — assim como o dinheiro é a raiz de todos os males, joanna é a raiz de todos os traumas de marni (ou é assim como ela se sente). foi humilhada por anos e nunca soube exatamente o motivo para tanto, mas não é como se importasse muito, pois às vezes tentava e de vez em quando conseguia revidar. o tempo passou e os seus caminhos, graças aos deuses, se separaram. agora, ambas estão de volta à cidade onde cresceram para celebrar o casamento do irmão mais velho de marni sendo as suas madrinhas.

no contexto de reencarnação, romeu e julieta renasceram em um mundo onde não se lembram de quem são, absolutamente se odeiam, e acham extremamente desconfortáveis e irritantes os sonhos românticos que tem um com o outro — sem saber que se tratam, na realidade, de flashbacks.

[evangelho-inegociavel]

Gostaria de lhe convidar a essa leitura, uma história verídica, que me fez rever alguns valores. Espero que gostem.

O reverendo Osborn Dickerson, um ex-escravo de Nova Orleans, recusou-se a parar de buscar e de louvar a Deus e de contar aos outros a respeito do Messias. Ele tinha o firme propósito de conhecer o Senhor. A seguinte história relatada por Joanna P. Moore mostra como esse propósito não mudou, apesar da oposição que aquele homem teve de enfrentar.

[novaursa]

Hi Nova, i just read the recent tywin Lannister request and i have to say its really amazing truly like u didnt even have to write some dramatic scenes i there but at the end iwas crying girl (i have skewwl tomorrow) and now my under eyes are puffy. ITS ALL YOUR FAULT  BUT ITS ALL RIGHT CAUSE WE ARE ALL SADISTS HERE.PAIN IS LUXURY IN YOUR BLOG. So i wanted to put my self into sweetpain and i am sending you my first ever request i hope u dont mind so here it is(and we love tywin in this house fuckers):

Tywin x lady in waiting reader

Where young tywin had this massive adoration for reader (which is rhae's lady in waiting) during his time at court but she was already promised to another house, he fought for the war of the nine penny kings, he became the hand of the king and he would see her around the court surrounded by her 4 children but at this time he's already married to joanna and had the twins. Then a few years have past its currently Jofferys reign and he just came back from the battle of Blackwater Bay, things happend and one day he received a letter from one of her children informing she's dead (of natural causes of course) and  Tywin would go to her funeral just to have  one last look at her. He's so so broken. And he reminisce some memories he had with her in the court and of course some jealousy too if u dont mind. 😉😉 

I hope this is understandable enough for u i really tried hehe english isnt my first language sorry 😔 😔

The Woman the Lion Loved

Requests are closed

- Summary: He let you go in the name of duty, but he never has forgotten you.

- Pairing: female!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: I got you, dear anon. I hope this one hurts enough. 😉

The Red Keep gleamed beneath the sun, its stone corridors warmed by the light filtering through stained glass, catching in the threads of your gown as you walked. You had always favored the lavender hues Queen Rhaella liked on you—soft colors that matched the gentle nature everyone claimed you possessed. You moved with a serenity that Tywin Lannister remembered too well, a grace that had once haunted him like a ghost he could not outrun.

He watched you now from across the throne room, not as a wide-eyed heir to Casterly Rock, but as the King’s Hand, his posture like iron, golden lion upon his crimson cloak unmoving. Yet his eyes followed you. They always did.

You stood beside the Queen, your hair pinned back with tiny pearls, the same shade as your smile when your youngest tugged at your skirts for attention. Four children you had now—tall, fair creatures who resembled neither you nor the man you had wed. Tywin could still remember the way you used to laugh in the gardens when you thought no one watched, the way you turned pages of old books with reverence, and the exact curve of your neck as you bent to gather a fallen flower. He had memorized you long ago, back when you were not yet a mother, nor a wife. When you were still just his, if only in thought.

It had begun when he first came to court, unweathered by politics but already rigid with purpose. You had taken his breath from the first moment, standing beside Princess Elia with your hands folded neatly and your head inclined to listen. You never spoke idly, and he’d found that maddening. He wanted your attention, not your poise. He had offered you every gesture a young lord could give—roses from the Rock’s garden, letters in impeccable script, his arm during walks through the Maidenvault. And you had smiled, so sweetly, so regretfully.

"I am promised, my lord," you had said once, beneath the shade of a blooming arbor in Maegor’s garden. “To Lord Dondarrion’s son. It was arranged years ago.”

“And you would honor that, without love?” he asked. He never begged, but his voice had lowered in a way that implied something close to it.

“My honor does not bend for love,” you replied, and that broke something in him. Because even then, he knew you wouldn't. You were never one to yield to the heart when duty called louder.

Still, he watched. He remembered.

Even now, as your eldest daughter spoke softly to Rhaella about embroidery and your middle son jostled with his little brother over a carved wooden hawk, Tywin found it difficult not to see you at seventeen, back straight, eyes solemn, hands delicate as spun lace. He had buried the boy who ached for you long ago—but he had never buried the memory.

Joanna, his wife, walked the hall just then, graceful and golden, her laughter echoing faintly as she spoke with a septa. She met his gaze with a smile, and Tywin, as always, returned it with the appropriate warmth. He respected Joanna, even admired her. She had given him strong heirs, ruled his household with flawless order. But she had not been the first. Not the girl who stole his breath before he’d learned to hide it behind iron composure.

"Lord Hand," you greeted, voice like summer rain. You had crossed the floor while he was distracted, children trailing you like ducklings. "I was told the King seeks your counsel before the feast. He’s in his solar."

"I am aware," he said simply, inclining his head. "Y/N."

The way your name sat in his mouth startled you, just slightly. It had been years since he said it without a title, without the armor of formality.

You smiled politely. "You look well, my lord."

"As do you. And your children." He glanced toward them. "They have your eyes."

"They have their father’s stubbornness," you said with a quiet laugh, and for a heartbeat, your eyes flicked to his—just long enough for the weight of years to hang between you.

He wanted to ask what might have been. What if your betrothal had broken? What if Rhaella had allowed him to petition your family? What if he had spoken sooner, louder?

But Tywin Lannister did not deal in what ifs. He dealt in what was. And what was, was this: You were not his. You had never been. You stood beside Queen Rhaella still, loyal as always. And he, cloaked in crimson and gold, carried a crown’s burden and a wife’s ring.

Still, that night, long after the feast had ended and the fire in his solar burned low, he sat alone, staring into the flames.

And he remembered.

The raven came at dawn, its wings wet with rain, feathers mottled with the dirt of a long flight. It bore no seal, only a plain thread of gold wrapped around a thin scroll, and yet when Tywin Lannister broke the wax, something inside him splintered. Not shattered. No, he was not a man who shattered. But the crack was deep. Quiet. Final.

He read the words once, then again, as if repetition might change them. They were written in a practiced, neat hand—your eldest daughter’s. It was brief and composed, much like you had been. My lord Hand, I regret to inform you that my mother, Lady Y/N, passed in her sleep two nights ago. She had not been unwell. The maesters say it was her heart. She did not suffer.

Tywin sat perfectly still, the paper still unfurled in his hand. Outside, bells tolled faintly across King’s Landing, signaling the return of King Joffrey from the Blackwater—flushed with false triumph, parading through the city with his crown tilted, his laughter loud and sharp like broken glass. But Tywin could not hear any of it. Not really. All he could hear was your voice, soft as silk, telling him that you were promised. That you had married. That you had borne children. That your honor would not bend.

And now… now you were gone.

He had expected, in some distant part of himself, to outlive you. He had not liked the thought, but it had been a quiet truth he tucked away alongside other things he dared not say. That he had never stopped watching you. That sometimes, he passed by the gardens just to remember how your laughter once echoed there. That in moments of stillness, when even Joanna had long since become part of the silence, he would think of you and not feel so alone.

He attended the funeral three days later, with all the poise expected of the Hand of the King. He rode alone, in Lannister red, though he bore no sigils on his cloak. His arrival stirred murmurs. Some remembered the old whispers—how once, long ago, Tywin Lannister had been utterly, foolishly in love with the Queen’s lady-in-waiting. The court had never dared speak it openly, but it had been clear in his eyes, in the careful way he chose his words around you, in the fury that colored his face whenever your husband smiled a little too proudly beside you.

The Sept was quiet. You were laid beneath the Stranger’s gaze, veiled in white, your hands folded over your chest. A single pearl sat between your fingers—perhaps one of the ones you used to wear in your hair. You had not aged cruelly. In death, you looked as he remembered: serene, gentle, the corners of your mouth slightly lifted, as if you had left something unsaid and were content to let it remain so.

Tywin stood above you, his gloved hands stiff at his sides. Your children stood nearby, composed in black, respectful. The eldest daughter greeted him with a curtsy, eyes shining with tears that did not fall.

“She spoke of you,” she said softly.

He looked at her, stone-faced. “What did she say?”

“That you were the most honorable man she ever knew.” A pause. “That you would have given her the world, had it been yours to give.”

He turned away before his expression could betray him. His breath caught once, low in his chest, and he forced it back down like he had done with so many things in his life.

That night, he did not return to King’s Landing. He remained in the keep where you had died, seated alone in your solar, surrounded by books and a small harp gathering dust. He found a letter—never sent—tucked in the corner of a drawer. It was addressed to him, his name penned in the soft ink you had favored.

My lord, it began, formal as ever. I find myself thinking often of those days when we were both young and unwise, though you, even then, were always more stone than boy. There were moments I thought you might speak, might ask. Perhaps I would have said yes. I do not know. I think we lived in a time that did not allow softness in men such as you. I have never blamed you for it. But I want you to know this: I cherished you. I never said it. I never could. But I did.

His hand trembled as he folded the letter and slipped it into his breast pocket. He sat down heavily on the chair beside your writing desk, resting his head in his hand.

“I would have burned the world for you,” he said aloud, voice hoarse, as if someone might still hear. “I should have.”

He remembered the way you used to tilt your head at him when you were amused, your lips barely curled, your eyes bright with withheld laughter. He remembered watching you dance at a feast once, with your betrothed, and the taste of bile in his mouth, the clawing jealousy he hadn’t known what to do with. He had left the hall that night and shattered a goblet against the stone walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. Joanna had found him later. Said nothing. She knew. She had always known.

And yet it had been you who lived rent-free in his chest, not the woman who bore his name.

Now you were gone.

There would be no more letters. No more quiet greetings in the court halls. No more children trailing behind you like shadows of a life that was never his to claim. You had taken your softness with you, and in its absence, Tywin Lannister felt—perhaps for the first time in decades—truly alone.

And in the silence, there were no more duties to distract him. Only memory.