Once I find the box that holds my markers I promise I will color her in.
Enjoy this beautiful elf ❤️
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from China
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Slovenia
seen from Slovenia
seen from China

seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
Once I find the box that holds my markers I promise I will color her in.
Enjoy this beautiful elf ❤️
All afternoon the following lines have been running through my head and I suppose at some point I’ll have to put them in the Bram Stoker au. (Not one, but two literary references haha!)
Mr. and Mrs. Lars, of Topsham, Devon, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the owners and caretakers of one perfectly ordinary boat, which was used primarily for fishing. And they were the occupants of a very mundane, if a little run down, house not far from the harbor. They kept a routine, seldom varying, and one could easily guess what Owen Lars might say on any given subject without the bother of asking him!
In fact, the only thing about the Lars family that might be remarked upon was their young nephew, Luke. It was common enough knowledge that the lad was orphaned, brought from foreign parts as a toddling babe with a most unusual accent to the few words he knew. And although he learned to blend with his companions quickly enough, it remained plain to most of Topsham that there was something just the slightest bit unusual about the child.
“Never mind them,” Beru Lars used to say as she would drop a motherly kiss on the boy’s brow, “An angel must have kissed your eyes when you were born, and that is why they shine so bright.” And then she would replace the mountain rose and hawthorn around the house, for Luke often seemed more at ease with the plants present.
Owen Lars was not nearly so sentimental in nature as his wife. More often, when his nephew asked whether they found him odd like his playmates and their families did, he would knock out his pipe against the grate and declare, “Utter nonsense. There’s not a thing wrong with you! Don’t you work as hard as any lad in the yards? Nonsense, I say!”
And then he would brood a while in silence before declaring something to the effect of, “Nothing wrong with the lad at all! And if anyone says different, I’ll…why, I’ll bash them on the head with an oak staff, see if I don’t!”
This, as one may imagine, did not make Owen Lars an especially popular man at public houses. But Mr. Owen Lars of Topsham, Devon, had never been of a temperament easily influenced by the opinions of others.
I have lost two buttons from my waistcoat today, and I wasn't even jumping over Gollums and squeezing through cracks in a mountainside to escape orcs.
Oh dear, I’m getting in fights on Facebook with Trump supporters.
Thranduil was right in claiming that in time, all foul things come forth.
changed my url.
weekendswithgoodfriends >>>>> thislippylakeman
cant decide to keep or go back.
I'm going on an adventure and I do not know if I have built in wifi on my pony... Anyways I'll give all of you some of Erebor's treasury once I get back ;)
I think I'm renaming my puppy Tauriel because I'm a giant nerd
once I was coming home from a concert and my lips were chapped really bad so I decided to buy a lemonade THAT WAS THE WORSE DECISION OF MY LIFE IT STUNG LIKE STING