ok but
ELVES
A copy of Tevruden's blog because I don't Trust Like that anymore.
ok but
ELVES
kind of funny how being gay automatically makes you a better and more interesting person
sounds fake, as a proud straight women that LARPS. I’m infinely more interesting then all of you homos.
AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
put this in a museum
Let it all burn, I will burn first
God, I’ve tried…. am I lost in your eyes?
Just let me burn, it’s what I deserve
God, I’ve lied…. am I lost in your eyes?
Keeping up with the incredible Tom Bancroft’s month of Mermaids, here is my 2nd instalment for MerMay! I’m starting to really dig these sea creatures, so there’s more to come soon for sure!
For Making-off, line-art, and cloud-ups Follow me on Instagram for more: www.instagram.com/artofdavidkawena
pros:
- you’ll be the cute one
cons:
- holy SHIT where do i begin
i finally watched the ending of inuyasha and it made me cry like a baby
i’ll have this printed for ACEN (i’ll be at table D08!)
Introducing trash bug man hunter dude my man Vetrin
Who was the necromancer that put this shit together who a know
i know i’ve made a post exactly like this before but that trope of a vampire or faerie or anything “other” watching a human from afar and “choosing” them is STILL so wild and uncomfortable to me bc if you watch someone from afar like that you’re gonna form such a romantic image of them in your head that’s actually barely what they’re like 90% of the time but now what the hell are you gonna do you just turned them into a vampire/brought them over to the faerie realm for eternity you’re STUCK with them and THEY’RE stuck with your impulsive naive romantic ass like
if a vampire watched me from afar they’re gonna catch me smelling wild flowers, talking to crows, and walking barefoot through creeks but they never see me inside and now they’re stuck, listening to me complain about the Naruto epilogue again. Again. They’re so tired. “Molly Anne,” they say. “Molly Anne please. It’s been two-hundred years.” I keep going. The betrayal still feels fresh.