Some bound process sketches to accompany the Tarrasque poster for the Almost Real zine!
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Some bound process sketches to accompany the Tarrasque poster for the Almost Real zine!
Posted using PostyBirb
Yumsies via Fern Tales
You are scientific proof that there are still new reasons to smile. Your laugh has so quickly become my favorite song. I can't sleep without knowing you're there. You are a tree, who's roots have slowly wound themselves around my heart and all of my happiness grows from them. I count the stars and tell them about how beautiful you are. How the moon could only be so lucky to shine upon your cheek. I no longer make wishes on them. I know they have long since burned out. But I think the universe deserves to know how much i admire it's most perfect creation.
Madame Tussauds New York - Lady Gaga
Tarrasque!
@ParasiteBeans and Cass created this Tarrasque illustration for Fortuna Medias Almost Real Zine! https://zoop.gg/c/almostrealvol5 You could own the original watercolor piece by donating at the Illuminated Beasts tier!
Posted using PostyBirb
It hurts, so, so bad. I can't make a string of beautifully written words to explain what empty feels like. To be so, broken, love leaks from you like a cracked cup. How did we get here? How did we fall apart? We were supposed to be forever. You will always be my forever. One day, years from now its going to click for you. I know it is. Its going to click and you are going to realize that no one on this planet has ever loved you like i did. I hope it doesn't make you sad. I hope you look back on it fondly. I hope you find someone who loves you how you deserve to be loved, and i hope you never let them go. I'm not afraid anymore. I know happiness will find you. I know, no matter what, I loved you in all the ways I could. I want you to know I dont regret this, Cass. Nothing about loving you was easy. But I would do it over and over again. I tried to tell you. Don't forget that.
“You’re not my type.”
“I can be your type. Tell me, what do you want me to become? What’s your type?”
“Umm… fictional.”
He didn’t know what to reply.
He just stood there silent, staring before deciding to run in the opposite direction without another word.
Exactly 4 months and 3 and a half days later, he came back.
He walked over, held her hand, and gently pulled her along to the library.
No words. Just silence and a strange sense of purpose.
He led her to a dimly lit aisle and pointed at a book on the shelf.
She frowned, confused. He disappeared for months and returned like this?
Without saying a single thing?
She looked at him, then at the book.
“Almost Real.”
Author: Alan Ron.
Wait. Him?
Her eyes widened. She glanced between him and the book again.
He gave her a small nod.
“Go on. Open it.”
She sat down on the library floor and began to read.
Two hours passed.
It was him.
His story. His words. His heart — unfiltered, unpolished.
He wasn’t a hero.
Just a boy tracing the lines fate drew for him.
And I get it now.
I’m falling for the character.
I’m falling for this fictional man.
And really…
who wouldn’t want their favourite character to be real?
Never More Than A FilmMaker Playing *@ Music
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