theme

theartofanimation:

Matt Rockefeller

4 hours ago  •  29953  •  via  •  source

info (x) (x)

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psa

furbearingbrick:

thatonelesbiangirl:

co8alt-thief:

if you spell skeletons backwards it still spells skeletons

Man I can’t wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks

spooky scary snoteleks

4 hours ago  •  56276  •  via  •  source

Going to try attacking Excuse Me I Believe You Have My Children again. 

4 hours ago  •  1

felitomkinson:

guiltyblue:

mo0gs:

*internal screaming*

ALWAYS OBSESSIVELY CTRL+S

I’VE MADE MY MISTAKES

CTRL + S-ing each time you draw a single line is literally the only way to go at digital art pls do not forget kids.

4 hours ago  •  3412  •  via  •  source
Sweet Lips : Stoyd AU

It’s a bright day in mid-June when Sophie squints at her uncle over her Knuckle Sandwich – butterscotch ice cream laced with homemade strawberry sauce smushed between a pair of peanut butter raisin cookies cut into hand shapes – and tells him, “Daddy says you need help for real.”

His six-year-old niece is calling him on his bullshit, and Stiles isn’t even mad because he’s still got a perfect visual on the guy that works in the Sweet Lips truck with Erica. He doesn’t talk all that much, but when he does it’s perfect. Even if it’s just, “What’ll it be?” or “Don’t forget your napkins.”

Right now he’s leaning his elbows on the counter just past the window, checking the clouds for signs of rain. Stiles could stare at those perfect arms and that square jaw in a hurricane. But he can’t man up and start a conversation. This is worse than Lydia and the Ten Year Plan.

Read More

4 hours ago  •  3
#stoyd #stoydweek #stoydweek:tuesday #stoyd au #ficlet

bagelbrother:

i think your sister knows how to turn the FCK UP

6 hours ago  •  55953  •  via  •  source

ladyshinga:

scribbleowl:

hyenaspotz:

@WorstMuse

I couldn’t remember how I had arrived at that dark place. The last thing I recalled was going to a student’s house, a nubile young thing whose beauty stoked the fires of my aging passion.

"How did I get here?" I said quietly, distantly to myself. This dank cave was no place for an esteemed professor of English literature, the most glorious and noble of all the Earth’s tongues.

There was a pool of water, and I washed my face in it. Staring at my reflection, I noticed a cast to my eyes, as if some great thing were floating upon their surface like a person could float upon the Dead Sea.

Suddenly, there she was. My student. The soft, ivory tone of her flesh still stirred something within me.

"You are here," she said cryptically. Something was wrong. Her… curves were in all the wrong places. There, in the darkness, it was as if the contours of her youthful body did not conform to the Euclidean laws of the universe, bending and twisting in ways out of the corners of my eyes. Her head tilted to the side and that mouth opened, revealing teeth and eyes far within…

She wasn’t like other girls, I thought, screaming.

ok but this is marvelous

Reblogging again because that was fucking beautiful

7 hours ago  •  81098  •  via  •  source

leone-con-ali:

finally a Merlin post that did not make me cry

8 hours ago  •  87528  •  via  •  source