Jul 16
happy birthday wife!!!!! this is the first time i’ve successfully made a birthday drawing for one of my silly little fictional pookies. could have done better but. Eh. Enjoy, you filthy cretins
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happy birthday wife!!!!! this is the first time i’ve successfully made a birthday drawing for one of my silly little fictional pookies. could have done better but. Eh. Enjoy, you filthy cretins
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Listen, I love Rosinante. I love this guy a lot. I have a whole little shrine to him on my desk. But you’ve gotta admit, he’s a little ugly. I know! I know! I’m sorry! But he’s a little ugly, and that’s okay.
Loving him means accepting that sometimes he looks like a beautiful angel, and sometimes he looks like he just chiseled his way out of the town jail’s drunk tank using a spork. It hurts, but it’s true. 😔
*looking at a stock photo of an Asian woman smiling and sticking out her tongue*
*projecting an image of Donquixote Rosinante Corazon over the image and staring at it with a smile for ten seconds*
My internal monologue after going blank once I started looking at the image: “what a silly young man!”
*realizes that he is in fact 26 years old, fictional, and not even the photo I’m looking at* oh…
smh, grown ass man still doesn't know how to kiss🙄
art reference v
Law's homework
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happy fathers day. Heres a tiny Cora for all you fatherless one piece fans.
Yes we see the fit. -_-
On another note, I saw these gun shoes on Pinterest and HAD to draw MyGuy (#MyGuy) in them!!!
Something something- Rosinante growing up in the marines and spending his teenaged years thinking that his brother had died. Something something- Rosinante laying awake in a warm bed with a loving father down the hall, wracked with self hatred for the fact that he, the weakling runt who couldn’t walk three steps without falling, had survived while his intelligent, strong, protective older brother had died. Something something- Rosinante dedicating each good deed he performed, every innocent he saved and breath he took, to his dead older brother, now younger than himself, who had given up so much to keep him alive. Something something- Rosinante feeling compelled to spread kindness to make his brother’s sacrifice worth something in the end.
Something something- Rosinante, barely sixteen, seeing his brother first wanted poster and going speechless for a full week as he processed the new knowledge. Something something- him dissolving into sobs, equal parts joy and grief, with the wanted poster clutched in his hands. Were the tears prompted by the all consuming joy of discovering that the single most important figure in his life has survived, after so long spent assuming the opposite? Were the tears that of horror and unknowable despair now that he knew his brother had gone on to become the type of man he had dedicated his new life to fighting? For a few piteous moments had he stood there, staring at the inked likeness of his brother, hoping against all logic that somehow this was a mistake, and his brother had been framed for all these heinous acts? Did it hurt nearly as much as first coming to terms with his brothers death as it did to discover he had lived and all the atrocities he had used that life to commit? For a second did he falter, treading water in his own mind as he realized that the urge to run to his brother was still there, despite all the time that had passed and blood that had spilled? Did that urge to find his big brother and hold him tight and beg for his attention every truly go away, even after finding with each week a new pile of horrors brought about by his brother the criminal?
And as they grew older, What hurt more- knowing that he couldn’t pull the trigger, even with Law’s life on the line, or that his brother could? Was there a sense of peace that came then, finally letting the mask drop and for the first time in decades being able to speak to his brother as himself, even if it marked the end of his life? As his vision fogged and life fled his body, did Rosinante watch his brother’s receding figure and realize that if he had to choose anyone in the world to watch as he died, he would still have chosen his brother?