stitches-the-goat:

but seriously though. My most favored book of all time will always be Animal farm. ive worked on a personal series inspired by animal farm for my portfolio. 

I also really liked The bell jar. Girl w/ the dragon tattoo. And The Jungle (by upton sinclair, not the disney story. this was a commentary on the working man’s conditions during the industrial revolution, it is a must fucken read). 

(via sturmtruppen)

(Source: thelifeisnotaparadise, via sturmtruppen)

harrytrumansfimbriae:

survival horror

(via fishermod)

patchoulol:

captainassbutt:

idc how much you hate twilight her dad is awesome

patchoulol:

captainassbutt:

idc how much you hate twilight her dad is awesome

(Source: foreverstartingover, via sturmtruppen)

fisherpon:

emcee-ironchef:

Hey everypony, I think Twilight is ready to return back to Tumblr (Well, starting my own Twilight blog that is!) 

…..That artstyle…
Is it… that Twilight?Traffic Cone Twilight? 

fisherpon:

emcee-ironchef:

Hey everypony, I think Twilight is ready to return back to Tumblr (Well, starting my own Twilight blog that is!) 

…..That artstyle…

Is it… that Twilight?
Traffic Cone Twilight? 

(via fishermod)

fisherpon:

epicbroniestime:

Pinkie le viene perfecto a Luffy

Yes. This is good.

fisherpon:

epicbroniestime:

Pinkie le viene perfecto a Luffy

Yes. This is good.

(via fishermod)

eldritche:

My window opened soundlessly. I stopped, stepped back, and let it fall closed. It made the usual sound a window makes when it’s closing: loud, obtrusive, and startling enough to get my dad yelling from downstairs.
“Bells, you all right?”
“Yeah,” I called back. I opened my window again. No creaking, still. This was new. This was not good. I frowned at the window. Something would have to be done about this.
That weird Cullen kid was back in school today. He watched me all day like I was some sort of freak. I didn’t have anything caught between my teeth. I had checked during a break between classes in case there was some unsightly lettuce poking its way between my front teeth.
The staring thing was not cool. Everything about him was not cool. I never thought I would actually see a real life embodiment of the lessons in The Gift of Fear that dad had got me for my fifteenth birthday, but here he was, sitting next to me in biology class. Ugh.
Supper was the usual affair: frozen leftover lasagna with textured vegetable protein. Dad like to complain that lasagna was supposed to have meat in it. I told him, again, that if he wanted meat in his lasagna, he was more than welcome to make his own and freeze it. We ended in a stalemate, both eating in silence.
That night, I got down the shotgun from the shelf in the closet, loaded it up, and slipped under my covers, eyes wide open.
I heard the window open. Not because of the now absent squeaking, but because I had set up an old Christmas ornament on the sill. It broke on the ground. I didn’t move and whoever it was what had come in through my window froze, waiting.
I waited, too.
I could hear his footsteps moving across the room as he came closer.
All right, Bella, I told myself, let’s do this.
I swung the shotgun up from beside me, fitted the stock against my shoulder, aimed, and fired.
Edward Cullen fell to the floor of my room. I stood up, shotgun still trained on him.
“What the hell kind of idiot decides to sneak into the house of the police chief?” I demanded. He sort of gurgled.
“Bells?” Dad’s voice again, this time much more agitated. 
“Yeah?” I crossed to the window and slammed it closed so that the only way Cullen could escape was through the door that my dad now stood in, looking wide awake and carrying his own service pistol.
“What the hell is going on.”
“I’d like to file a breaking and entering report, Dad,” I said.

How Twilight should have started… And ended.

eldritche:

My window opened soundlessly. I stopped, stepped back, and let it fall closed. It made the usual sound a window makes when it’s closing: loud, obtrusive, and startling enough to get my dad yelling from downstairs.

“Bells, you all right?”

“Yeah,” I called back. I opened my window again. No creaking, still. This was new. This was not good. I frowned at the window. Something would have to be done about this.

That weird Cullen kid was back in school today. He watched me all day like I was some sort of freak. I didn’t have anything caught between my teeth. I had checked during a break between classes in case there was some unsightly lettuce poking its way between my front teeth.

The staring thing was not cool. Everything about him was not cool. I never thought I would actually see a real life embodiment of the lessons in The Gift of Fear that dad had got me for my fifteenth birthday, but here he was, sitting next to me in biology class. Ugh.

Supper was the usual affair: frozen leftover lasagna with textured vegetable protein. Dad like to complain that lasagna was supposed to have meat in it. I told him, again, that if he wanted meat in his lasagna, he was more than welcome to make his own and freeze it. We ended in a stalemate, both eating in silence.

That night, I got down the shotgun from the shelf in the closet, loaded it up, and slipped under my covers, eyes wide open.

I heard the window open. Not because of the now absent squeaking, but because I had set up an old Christmas ornament on the sill. It broke on the ground. I didn’t move and whoever it was what had come in through my window froze, waiting.

I waited, too.

I could hear his footsteps moving across the room as he came closer.

All right, Bella, I told myself, let’s do this.

I swung the shotgun up from beside me, fitted the stock against my shoulder, aimed, and fired.

Edward Cullen fell to the floor of my room. I stood up, shotgun still trained on him.

“What the hell kind of idiot decides to sneak into the house of the police chief?” I demanded. He sort of gurgled.

“Bells?” Dad’s voice again, this time much more agitated. 

“Yeah?” I crossed to the window and slammed it closed so that the only way Cullen could escape was through the door that my dad now stood in, looking wide awake and carrying his own service pistol.

“What the hell is going on.”

“I’d like to file a breaking and entering report, Dad,” I said.

How Twilight should have started… And ended.

(Source: foreverstartingover, via obsessionfull)

Lost his Color

fishermanofponibooru:

(Source: fishermod)

(via syntheticaudio-deactivated20111)

cirno-news-network:

Friendship and Magic with Pony

(via thewalkingdesu)

"When I read it I was convinced Stephenie was convinced she was Bella and it was like it was a book that wasn’t supposed to be published. It was like reading her sexual fantasy, especially when she said it was based on a dream and it was like, ‘Oh I’ve had this dream about this really sexy guy,’ and she just writes this book about it. Like some things about Edward are so specific, I was just convinced, like, ‘This woman is mad. She’s completely mad and she’s in love with her own fictional creation.’ And sometimes you would feel uncomfortable reading this thing."

Robert Pattinson (via roboticpenguins)

(via syntheticaudio-deactivated20111)

"Harry Potter is about doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend."

Stephen King (via ache)

OH MY GOD, STEPHEN KING, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

(via tigressunlimited)

(via october-eightyeight)