A Day in the Life


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… AND THAT IS THE WAY I MAKE FIRE! Simple and messy “how to gry”.
I will add quick smoke tutorial / step by step too Just wait. \o/

EDIT: Sorry for small images >8C I am not good with tumblr image sizes and I have never understood them. But by copying the image URL you can see bigger sized images!

art resources, fire

Awesome! thanks grypwolf

(via inhuman-monster)

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Here’s the thing about being pro choice that people don’t get…
You don’t have to morally agree with abortion to be pro choice. That’s why it’s not called pro abortion. It’s an understanding that you can’t make that choice for someone else and they have full control over that not you. It’s pro I’m not the boss of everyone else.

This is important.

(Source: , via wewillnotgoquietly)

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ghostxbiscuit asked: I would love some hurt/comfort with feral Derek, if you feel like it, especially would love if Stiles hid the fact that Derek was staying with him from everyone else, because he believes him to be in danger. I love love love your fic, you're pretty much my favourite author in the Sterek fandom :) (this is not meant to make you pick me, if this prompt doesn't inspire you, that's totally ok, I just wanted to tell you, that I love you, since I was writing to you anyway! <3)


This is some kind of AU where werewolves are known and hunted, and Stiles is part of some underground rescue group, I guess???

Stiles is the only one home when the alert comes over the police scanner. Deaton doesn’t pick up at the clinic, nor does Scott, which means it’s Stiles who goes into the preserve alone, long past midnight, in the pouring rain. He’s done this before - albeit never alone - and tries to tell himself to keep calm, keep his breathing steady. It’s a little scary, the trees tall and pale in the weak light of his flashlight. He stops every couple of yards and listens hard, but there’s no sign of the police, nor the werewolf, and so he presses on, deep into the woods.

He’s thinking about turning back - there’s been no sign of any life in the forest, and he’s got rain soaked through to his underwear - when it literally hits him, a blurred, pale shape, smacking into his side and bearing him down into the wet leaves. It’s off again, bounding through the trees before Stiles is even on his feet, but he gives dogged chase.

“Come on, stop!” Stiles yells after the pale form. “I’m here to help you!”

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