Oddtober day eight, "Wrong", featuring my first ever rendition of the Michael Distortion. It was fun drawing him, but i did have a headache at the end of it all! Agonies. I think that means i did something right though.
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Michael distortion sketch!!
It is so hard to make yellow look even remotely intimidating
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Writing Share Tag
Thanks @bookish-karina for tagging me
The rules? Just share a snippet of writing no matter the length!
I will tag: @words-after-midnight @winterandwords @veradragonjedi and an open tag for whomever!
When Tegan took the last step onto the landing, she saw two rooms, their doors shut and secured by sturdy iron latches. Painted a deep, rich crimson, exuded an air of mystery and intrigue she wanted to, no needed to, see within. She took a step and the emerald carpet beneath seemed to almost take offense to her dirty, wet boots. While the absence of recent footsteps or depressions, its lush appearance seemed as if no one had ever stepped upon it, cultivated the eerie silence that hung in the air. She stood alone up here, swathed in a singular solitude—not a soul could be up here. Then it must have been her mind, not the most pleasant of thoughts, Tegan concluded. Still, Tegan had to be thorough, and as she turned the doorknob, the first door on the left creaked open effortlessly. Its rusty hinges emitted a high-pitched squeak that echoed through the hallway, which shattered the silence. Stepping into the room, a soft glow from a green glass lamp illuminated the space, casting mysterious shadows on the walls. While the air carried a musty scent of age, mingled with the faint aroma of wood polish. In the far corner, a small, ancient roll-top desk sat, its surface cluttered with yellowed papers and forgotten trinkets. Next to it, a worn wardrobe stood, its doors somewhat ajar. The bed, just big enough for one person, appeared comfortable, adorned with faded linens. Tegan closed the door behind her, leaned on it as she let out a long breath. Nothing. Now only one door remained, left Tegan with no other options. As she opened it, the sight of shelves filled with various items greeted her. These objects patiently awaited their turn to be displayed on the sales floor. Tegan reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, brightened the room and revealed its desolation other than old antiques, save for a layer of dust that covered everything. As she walked further into the room, nowhere else in this shop had she smelled such an awful mustiness that permeated every square inch of this small storage room. She moved a worn Persian rug aside to uncover an ancient strong box, its cheap padlock barely holding it together.
Well you guys all know that the tag list will be beneath the cut. If you want to be added to the list please click here and interact with the post. If you want off the list send me a DM! <3
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happy birthday to pedro pascal 💜
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Anonymous asked:
What is your favorite work of Vasco / Machete / Both? Or in general, your favorite piece you've made?
It's hard to pick favorites, but from this past year/current ongoing era, I really like these in particular: