Latest Posts by elissjayd - Page 7
eddie and v are best uncles!!
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU
Vampire Horse 2: Vampire Horse and The Werewolf Bandit.
The adventures of Vampire Horse and the Vampire Cowboy continue…
Thanks for reading!
Read Vampire Horse.
Buy digital copies of my comics.
Toss money in my hat.
The Greatest Love Story Ever Told - The story of a man afraid of flying, and an angel afraid of falling, who somehow met in the middle. The man who denied the existence of angels came to love one. The angel who never felt began to feel. The man who was saved from an eternity in Hell by an angel. The angel who fell in every way imaginable for a man. The man, with a clear path to escape, decided instead to stay in Purgatory for a year, searching for his angel, praying to him every night. Begging. When he found him, he held him; he told him that he needed him, that he’d get him out, even if it killed them both. The angel rejected his faith, his family, his home, and everything he knew, so he could keep the man safe. They stay together despite fate, despite what they are, because they refuse to be pulled apart.
human!AU
Russian elections be like
▫️Putin ▫️Not Putin (Putin)
WHAT ARE BEAUTIFUL LADIES
btw, why Eggsy looks exactly like my aunt?
30 day AU challenge: 24. Genderswapped
Day 1 - Day 23 - Day 25
“What do you see?”
“Someone who wants to know what the fuck is going on.”
Something simpler this time.
rolling in the deep
My favourite sort of glass
Inktober Day 18. Waiting
@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mr Pickle doesn’t get very many visitors.
His human wasn’t the sociable type in the slightest, and hence many guests didn’t visit Mr Pickle. Apart from the bald man with glasses occasionally, who would stagger into the bathroom in the wee hours, empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, and give Mr Pickle a pat up on his shelf. Or the other, more easygoing gentleman, who always sang as he made water, especially when he, the bald man and Mr Pickle’s human were drinking.
The bathroom isn’t thought to be a vantage point of the home. Yet from here, perched on his special shelf, alongside the lines of butterflies, Mr Pickle can see everything he needs to. He can see the shadow looming from the door when it opens at night, the flick of the yellow-tinged hall light. The sound of oxford-clad feet, the rustle of an expensive coat being hung on its hook, and an umbrella swinging into place beside it.
When he had a body, years ago, he would be in the hallway right this second, gambolling around the pinstripe-suited tower legs of his human. And settling on his haunches on the plush carpet for a well-coveted scratch behind the ears.
But his body is a little frozen now, suctioned into place on his shelf, with his special golden plaque. So instead of running to meet his human, Mr Pickle must wait, until his dark-haired, long-legged human comes to greet him, and use the lavatory. He always brings a book with him too- 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea is Mr Pickle’s favourite.
Sometimes, the hallway light won’t flick on until the following morning. Or for several mornings after that. On these occasions, when he was a short furry little body, the bald man would visit, to ration out his bowl of dinner, and sometimes slip him a slice of bacon. But now, he needs no food. So all he can do is wait. A handful of times, weeks pass before Mr Pickle’s human returns, usually red-eyed with fatigue, and bladder bursting. The first thing he does is pay Mr Pickle a visit, which makes him feel very loved and appreciated indeed. But there’s not much talking then, and a flump from upstairs several moments after their reunion will tell Mr Pickle that his human has surrendered to exhausted dreams.
No matter how long he’s gone the human always comes home, eventually. To read the newspapers that slowly pile up against the front door, and tend to the modest garden that blossomed out the back.
Until one day, Mr Pickle’s human doesn’t.
The air in the house feels different, the day after, but he ignores it. His human would come home. He always did. But the funny taste of the air lingers, and the halls remain silent and still, ever since Mr Pickle’s human’s boy ran out in a flood of tears.
But Mr Pickle’s human would come home soon.When he had a body, and he was good, his human would give him treats. He just had to keep waiting patiently, like a good boy. Even as the newspapers that thwack onto the front door pile so high they spill over one day, and the garden grows wild and untamed. Mr Pickle waits, as the loneliness drapes over him like a death shroud, and the endless cycle of sunshine, moonlight beaming through the curtains glazes his eyes over.
Eventually, the hall light flicks back on one night. But it’s not his human that stumbles through the door in a zombie-like stupor, face puffy from crying. It’s his human’s boy, the shorter, suit-wearing man, who throws his coat on the floor, and rockets up stairs to collapse on the bed into a ball of agony and tears.
He doesn’t say hello to Mr Pickle. So Mr Pickle waits, like he always does, a steadfast picture of patience. For his human, his real human, to come home.
The funny texture of the air never leaves. Mr Pickle is almost used to it, now. The new taste of the air, the foreign smells of the blond-haired boy and his equally fair-haired lady, as they live and breathe and exist in this house.
The woman visits him in the bathroom, from time to time. But she never says hello, just breezes in and out as though he isn’t even there.
So Mr Pickle waits. Waits and waits and waits.
Because maybe if he keeps waiting, his human will finally come home, and say hello.
Harry and Eggsy, taken by Lee in 1993
You made me cry. Why did you do that, for what
Kingsman: The Golden Circle Review
Country roooooooooooooooooooooooOooooooooOooooooooooooooooads take me hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOooooooooooooooooooome to the plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaace I beloooOoOoOOOOoong
insp.
Ночная рубрика экспериментов. Впервые взялась за масляную пастель и впервые попыталась нарисовать что-то акварелью. (Что-то, что больше пальца, помню как я сходила с ума, пытаясь нарисовать того Мэтью Мёрдока) К сожалению, я поздно поняла, что именно надо было делать и как рисовать, но, как говорится, первый блин комом. Сначала была пастель, поэтому акварельный рисунок выглядит более продуманным. Плюс, скан пастели намного светлее, чем в реальности. Теперь надо нарисовать тоже самое ручкой и карандашами. Посмотреть на одно и то же изображение, нарисованное разными материалами всегда интересно. #Нэсси #пастель #акварель #морскойдракон #перваяпроба #лохнесскоечудовище #маслянаяпастель
Не знаю почему не выложил это раньше, мне нравится как получилось. Особенно с фильтром. #gravityfalls #mabelpines #billcipher
Почему он его ещё не съел? Или?.. Мм 😏
Из обезвреженного врага получается самая лучшая подушка Х)
Залип
unmute for harmonies
I must a sleep, but…
#Carnage #Spiderman #art #symbiote #Venom #Marvel #Карнадж #Спайдермэн #Спайдермен #Марвел #рисунок #ЧеловекПаук #Веном
#tea #lights #garland #beautiful #bright #bright_light #bright _tea
Person: what is your favorite song from 'Stomachaches'?
Me: *slowly smiling*
Me: *steps back*
Me: *turns*
Me: *runing out through window*
Me: *leaving the country*
Me: dONT ASK ME ABOUT THIS
