Hello sadness my old friend! Self taught artist and writer.
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No one:
Literally not a single soul:
My brain at 4 in the morning:
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People writing about any sort of nonhuman character

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send a number and character(s) and ill draw them on, or based on, one of these images
blank images
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Wilder was initially hesitant, but finally accepted the role under one condition:
When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself… but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.
When Stuart asked why, Wilder replied, “because from that time on, no one will know if I’m lying or telling the truth.”
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