I’m moving my butt to a new tumblr account, because 1) the accidental reblogs to the wrong blog were getting troublesome, 2) finally a tag list on posting/reblogging, YASS! 3) I want to be honest with everyone that it is I, fellow fangirl, who’s stalking their tumblrs, not someone dedicated to reblogging pictures of cats and Sharktopus (not that I’m ashamed of those noble pursuits).
Stephen Lunsford being the geek king of everything
I’m gonna go out on a limb here, but I think Stephen likes Batman.
practice doodle from a photoreference.
this is stupidest thing i’ve ever drawn /sob
so this was a ridiculous idea inspired by how it’s apparently impossible to take photos of werewolves with their eyes open - because even though some animal’s eyes are reflective they don’t create lensflare, oh my god, and so obviously werewolf eyes must actually be a light source.
… i bet stiles forces everyone to learn morse code.
Story about how Tom Hardy found a kitten while shooting Sweeney Todd in Romania (did he get cut from that or what? I dunno, that’s what the site says Edit: It was a BBC version). Prepare to die from the cuteness. No, I’m not cutting it. You should read…
Chris, they are underage
Teen Wolf: A show about underage boys who repeatedly find themselves being stalked and accosted by grown men in dark rooms.
Yes. I like all of this.
Pretty much the entire show, right there.
He had green eyes,
so I wanted to sleep with him —
green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool—
You could drown in those eyes, I said.
The fact of his pulse,
the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire
not to disturb the air around him.
Everyone could see the way his muscles worked,
the way we look like animals
his skin barely keeping him inside
I wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
I wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.
You could drown in those eyes, I said,
so it’s summer, so it’s suicide,
so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.
— Richard Siken, “Little Beast” (Part 4)