Has anyone else got a second degree burn from a rock?


@I Don't Care Abt a thing is my new account i wont really draw on it, it js depends really
@I Don't Care Abt a thing is my new account i wont really draw on it, it js depends really
My friend is making a dark fantasy it is a straight one unfortunately but she wanted some drawings of the characters here are the descriptions in my words oh and it is a slow burn
Asher/mix/ brown n curly average boy hair/ blue eyes n freckles/ 15yrs old/ wolf/6'4
sidney/5'1/14yrsold/merfairy/ice blue eyes/long blonde hair blonde waist mostly in bun tho
daisy/ginger/10yrs old not supposed to really be in this/ fairy leaf like tiny wings change with seasons/ green eyes with blue ring near middle/freckles/ 4'11/malnurished/ real skinny like those stick boys in your c!ass lol/ very shy
esmeralda/ 15 yrs old/warrior/dark brown hair bottom of ass length but in tight ass ponytail most of the fucking time/ 5'9/ very light fucking brown/ real strong stronger than most guys extras that arent here
Raven/fairy pink wings/definition of girly/15yrs old/black hair to tits / dark blue eyes/ 5'2
Lizzie/14yrs old/ spoiled like a princess/ brown to middle of stomach hair/medium green eyes/ 5'7
Andrew/15 yrs old/ warrior/ blonde curly average boy length hair/ light hazel eyes/6'3
made a poem. pls tell me what yall think abt it.
You claim the right to draw the line,
To call this stolen country "mine."
You build your borders, bars, and walls,
While your own stolen history calls.
Look at the dirt beneath your feet—
It’s paved with ghosts you refuse to meet.
How dare you claim this blood-soaked soil?
Your "ancestry" is theft and spoil.
Unless your blood is of the First,
Born of the drought and canyon thirst,
You are a squatter, thief, and seed,
Sown by an immigrant’s desperate need.
You whipped the back and broke the bone,
To raise the walls you call your own.
The marble halls where you hide your face,
The harvest gold that feeds your race—
Was built by hands you held in chains,
While you sucked dry the workers' veins.
You hunt the mother, cage the child,
Like scavengers in the hollow wild.
You use the law to mask your sin,
To wall the world's unwanted in.
Exile is a coward's game,
A lie to hide your shared, stained name.
How dare you hunt the builder down,
While wearing a stolen, golden crown?
One came in shackles, one for gold,
One fled the hunger and the cold.
The Mayflower’s hull and the desert heat
Are the same paths where strangers meet.
Kill the lie of the "native" son;
In this land, every one of you has run.
To hunt a neighbor in the night,
And scream that "legal" makes you right,
Is to spit upon your own damn root—
The taste of the traveler’s bitter fruit.
No one is "truly" from this place,
So look your brother in the face.
Tear down the walls. Burn the cage.
Wipe the "legal" off the page.
You’re hunting flesh on stolen ground,
With a crown you stole but never found.
End the hunt. Drop the stone.
This land was never yours to own.
i improved a lot ngl
eye 🥹 so beautiful
Will you also check out my art? You might like them!
i finally finished Kinger
yerrrrr
@ElijahCantThink did this with me
WOW UWUWU
Draw on a base
Oh no