#Creative Christmas Presents
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noisycowboyglitter · 4 months ago
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Make Christmas Special with Belgian Malinois Dog Pajamas for Families
Belgian Malinois Dog Christmas Pajamas for Family Dogs is a niche but charming product that combines the love for a specific dog breed with the festive spirit of the holiday season. These specialized pajamas are designed to fit the athletic build of the Belgian Malinois, a breed known for its intelligence, loyalty, and working dog capabilities.
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Buy now:19.95$
The pajamas typically feature festive Christmas-themed patterns such as snowflakes, reindeer, Santa Claus, or holiday trees, all rendered in classic holiday colors like red, green, and white. The material is usually soft and comfortable, often made from breathable fabrics like cotton or fleece to ensure the dog's comfort while wearing them.
These pajamas serve multiple purposes. Firstly, they provide warmth during the colder winter months, especially for short-haired Malinois. Secondly, they offer a fun way to include the family dog in holiday traditions and photo opportunities. Many pet owners enjoy dressing up their dogs for holiday card photos or family gatherings, and these pajamas allow the Belgian Malinois to participate in the festive fun.
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The concept of "Family Dogs" in the product description emphasizes the role of the Belgian Malinois as a beloved family member rather than just a working dog. It acknowledges the trend of treating pets as integral parts of the family unit, especially during holiday celebrations.
While some may view dog clothing as unnecessary, many pet owners find joy in occasionally dressing up their furry companions for special occasions. These pajamas cater to that market, specifically targeting owners of Belgian Malinois who want to include their dogs in holiday festivities.
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It's important to note that when using such clothing, pet owners should ensure the pajamas fit properly and don't restrict the dog's movement or cause discomfort. The safety and comfort of the dog should always be the primary concern.
A Merry Christmas Gift embodies the joy and generosity of the holiday season. It's not just a physical item, but a gesture of love, thoughtfulness, and goodwill. These gifts can range from carefully chosen presents to handmade crafts, each selected or created with the recipient in mind.
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The concept extends beyond material objects, encompassing acts of kindness, shared experiences, and quality time spent with loved ones. It might be a beautifully wrapped package under the tree, a heartfelt card, or a surprise act of service.
Merry Christmas Gifts often reflect holiday themes, featuring festive colors, winter motifs, or religious symbols. They serve to spread cheer, strengthen bonds, and create lasting memories. Ultimately, a Merry Christmas Gift is about conveying warmth, appreciation, and the spirit of the season.
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laz-kay · 11 months ago
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After years of being told I sucked at drawing by my teachers and peers, I told my brother I wanted to teach myself how to draw in my own style so I can express my headcanons and hyperfixations instead of trying to write when my brain won’t let me. He bought me my very first sketch book and pencils for Christmas which I’ve already decorated, and Tina Ruth Belcher is presiding. Sounds lame, but I’m so proud of myself🥹🩵
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scratchandplaster · 11 months ago
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Stack The Deck - PART 13
CW: Carewhumper, non-con touching, referenced stalking/non-con bathing/nudity, gaslighting, panic attack
PART 12 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 14
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
All of this could be worse, Elliot had to constantly remind himself of this fact; so, so much worse.
At the very least he didn't find himself in the trunk of a Honda or a crack house bathroom, just the sparsely decorated home of Chris, being far more tidy than he'd like to give him credit for. Said man had disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving Elliot to stew in bewilderment. The spots where skin had met skin started to itch.
Focus, come on. Neither the lonely houseplant next to the TV nor the properly aligned armchair could help him; behind the bed he was placed in stood a dresser with a full ashtray on it. The sun that had so rudely woken him up before already moved on, but the window it entered through didn't budge an inch, letting the muffled sound of cars driving up and down the road flow through the glass. They were at least on the third floor.
Jump, a harsh force pulled at his stomach, now. What else would he break in the process?
The smell of vanilla and sugar let him come to a bit more, a sour taste gathering at the thought of what's next to come. Even though Elliot had no idea why he was taken again, the animal part of his brain prepared for the worst regardless; knowing this time could be dangerous in a whole different sort of way.
"Do you like pancakes?" Morris called out, looking back from the kitchen to check if this was still real, if Elliot was really with him now, "Of course you do."
Did he? Elliot wasn't so sure about it anymore, he couldn't get his next steps on track: a rescue he couldn't remember, the warm welcome, the fact that Amber was just old news - where did this suddenly come from? What do you call a joke nobody's laughing about?
Wrapped up in the hysteric circle of repetitive thoughts, his hands started to knead hills and valleys into the blanket and rewarded his already tense arm with a short sting of fire. Elliot usually avoided to, but looking down at his palms, he noticed the rough red lines of dark scab across them.
"Did I fall?" he whispered to nobody in particular.
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, you were bleeding; your knees too. Don't you feel that?" The well-meaning hint fell on deaf ears.
Though Elliot did feel that. An all-too familiar burn started spreading its stinging tendrils out to reach his elbow first and if not appeased quickly enough, it would only grow further. On some days, it crawled up behind his eyes.
But not yet, there was still time. Finally ready to act, Elliot threw the heavy covers off his legs, which were not tied together despite the uneasy memories. He could work with that.
The cooked batter already built up bubbles, he could see it from where he was standing now, the kitchen also being the entrance area and final room to separate them from the outside world. After flipping it over to reveal a perfectly browned crust, Morris at last noticed him: "I thought of you, moving north into the wilderness to ride moose and become a park ranger or whatever. She got me good; upstate, my ass!"
Jesus Christ, what is he going on about? Elliot had read an article about brain damage some odd months ago: poor Morris probably had an aneurysm during the time they didn't see each other, and hopefully would be blessed with another one soon. This had to be it. He, for one, didn't act like a guy who got invested in a spontaneous religious awakening.
Elliot swallowed hard, interrupting the senseless yapping and looking into Morris' steam-covert face that only underlined his unsettling glassy expression: "I can't do this again. Please, I give you everything."
They faced each-other while still keeping a good distance, with the door to the hallway practically only a jump away. Elliot could make it.
"The bathroom is on your right," Morris said through a patient smile, "Freshen up a bit."
--------
Coward. Even a splash of cold water on his puffy eyes didn't soothe the lingering frustration; if this were the Olympics, he'd be awarded the golden medal for backpedaling, especially when it came to his own survival. You dumb fucking coward.
Elliot even lacked the guts to lock the bathroom door. When push comes to shove, one could bet Morris would just kick the hinges in.
Where had the time gone; the time he should have used to prepare, to take action against Morris? Not boxing, naturally, but something... anything meaningful. All that followed was well deserved, it seemed, the punishment for wasting away in his childhood bedroom and staring motionless at a wall for eight months.
The bathroom mirror gave a flash of relief as Elliot pressed his forehead against the cool glass. Think! 
For the first time in a long year, he looked at his reflection. A broken man glared back through empty eyes. Single beads of water ran down his chin to be soaked up into his shirt, already damp with the stench of fear and sweat.
The shirt he wore the whole night; a shirt he did not wear yesterday, one he did not even own, meaning that Morris had to- Oh god.
Maybe he should think less, before losing the last bit of sanity.
Not that it mattered, Elliot's only goal was clear: convince Chris to leave him alone, even when he had to bear his unorthodox signs of reparation. Smile and nod and play Crazy Eights until he opens the door: old habits and such. Nothing to lose this time, he could do it!
As Elliot awkwardly stalked back to the kitchen, the stinging had already engulfed his whole left hand and throbbed with every horrid expectation. One favor Morris could do him, if this went south too, was to cut the damn thing off already. Turning around into the kitchen fully now, he was greeted by the same stupid grin that send him away. At least one of us is having fun.
Elliot was gently led to the table and forced to sit tight until the chef was gracious enough to join him; dragging his chair to position it opposite to his guest. A stack of warm pancakes was placed carefully in front of both; they didn't look half bad.
So this was the apology breakfast then.
"Here you go, Ell!"
The cutlery slid right next to the plate and with Chris closer than ever before, Elliot could feel his body heat on his face. By reflex, his head curled down to make himself as small as possible, as if mesmerized by the pancakes he was blankly staring at.
"Say when." A thin stream of sticky maple started to coat them: the apology syrup, surely.
He would have appreciated all the effort in a different context, but with his sweaty right clenched around the butter knife, any sense of domestic bliss was lost.
Elliot felt his mouth go dry in anticipation; bile already collecting further.
None of them had noticed how heavy their breathing went, so Morris decided to be more brisk and let the hand he had positioned so innocently on the backrest slip down the small of Elliot's neck.
This is the apology- the-the apology...
The touch of rough fingers against his sensitive skin made Elliot shudder violently and writhe away from the contact. Even though that wasn't a "when", the steady drizzle of syrup stopped in its flow.
Letting his hand wander even further down to dip under his collar and between his shoulder blades, Chris too was mesmerized. His skin felt pleasantly warm to the touch; stroking back and forth, up and down to soothe his boy who was nearly losing it again. So tense.
He knew it only got worse the longer this medicine he demanded was held back, so why not enjoy the last calm moments for a while. Brushing the peach fuzz at the base of his hairline awarded Chris a low whine. So pretty.
His left arm was sore by now and already cooking up a storm, Elliot could feel it.
Morris felt glad his guest was deadly focused on the meal he made them, otherwise his bright red face would only prove how excited he was getting.
He hadn't missed how much longer Elliot's hair had grown, still happy that he managed to wash it last night. Speaking of which, was he always this pale and skinny? He did look kinda rough, Chris determined with a frown, they hadn't taken good care of him, wherever he'd been before.
Not for much longer, of course.
Elliot too had learned from his mistakes, though he never expected to use his newfound knowledge. Enjoying a bite to wake up god-knows-where; no, thank you! It made little sense to take his meds and just drug him still, but he had to anticipate senseless acts from a senseless man.
Elliot wouldn't look up, hell no, that face just helped to make him throw up faster.
"Sorry, but I'm not eating this," Elliot murmured, unsure if there was a gentle way of teaching him that.
Morris looked sheepish: "Oh, is it burned? The first ones always get a little bit more...crispy."
He neither took silence nor no for an answer, but two could play that game.
"So, what do you want to do after this?", Morris asked. He hoped to get the best use out of their intimacy before the inevitable temporary mood killer.
"You talk a lot." Sadly, not one coherent sentence. So Elliot refused to give in to the chit-chat.
"I'm just excited," Morris admitted quietly while desperate to hide the red blotches on his face.
Excited about what?
He had to sound like a broken record by now: "Did I do something wrong? I didn't tell anyone, I swear!"
Morris sighed.
"No, no, I'm not angry with you, is that so hard to believe?" He couldn't stop playing with full, dark strands of hair. "I just said these things to buy more time."
Collecting what remained of his shaky words, Elliot failed to bite his tongue any longer. Sweet-talk me all you want.
"Y-you said, you'd kill my mother."
Morris would never, scout's honor! That woman was huge.
"Yeah, I didn't mean that, obviously!" came the annoyed huff.
Obviously, like Morris wasn't a dangerous man to be around. Obviously, like it was Elliot's fault for believing threats against their lives.
"Wouldn't make a difference if you had told them, either."
A difference for Elliot nonetheless, one could suppose, seeing how drenched in tears he suddenly was. In another life, one where he got to be less of a disappointment, he told his parents and doctors the truth to make peace with himself. 
At worse, new accusations only fast-tracked Morris tardy rendezvous with justice. Dragging an unconscious stranger through the streets perhaps did raise some eyebrows... Do you even know about the warrant? Maybe you like a spark of danger.
Unable to protest, free-flowing tears got thumbed away by a caring hand and unbeknownst to Elliot, Morris simply loved that he let himself cry freely.
In the open space behind them, a phone started humming anew. The unhappy musician was finally lucid enough to recognize the melody this time: Für Elise.
In case he had been smart enough to spend the last months growing a backbone, he would have spat Morris straight in the face. The sheer audacity made all tears ebb in an instant.
After what had been more than enough time with strange hair between his fingers, Morris took a seat and let his head drop into his hands: "I hope that doesn't bother you, I'm just gonna let it ring."
Actually, it did bother Elliot, but in a whole different way.
"Where's my phone?", he asked instead, because surly, whatever scenario he was dragged into, Morris considered him sympathetic enough to gift him one call. Like in the movies.
Bet he isn't dumb enough to let it lie around.
The response he got was a worthless shrug: "You didn't have one on you."
How well did that freak search me?
The only other explanation was him losing it during the fall, where and when this supposedly happened was a whole different mystery to him. Taking a hesitant forkful of batter into his mouth, Elliot hoped his good manners would earn him a blink of silence: time he needed to think about his next steps. For now, it only brought a satisfied grin onto himself.
After a few more minutes, the ringing died down.
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It became extremely clear that Elliot's plan would go up in flames. A chat with Chris, to smile and look pretty, forcing half a pancake down his tightening throat - he really put all into it. It wasn't enough.
His face burned brightly now too, from fear or rising nerval misery was unclear, all he knew was that it hurt. Pearls of sweat slipped along his fingertips into his lap while Morris was too busy cleaning up the table: "I guess you're full for now, huh?"
The low coo only made him twitch in his seat. Elliot had to stop losing himself.
"How's your...the-the rabbit. You had one of those, right?" Chris asked, turning towards the sink to put the dishes in.
"Good," Elliot tried to say, but any effort to speak was cut off by a choking flare that shot up his neck. The ache hit him without warning throughout every muscle fiber and surged right back into its birthplace, over and over, until nothing but a hollow wheeze shook his body.
It hadn't been this bad in a long time; his skull threatened to split into pieces and if nobody was here to help, then Elliot was glad to take the job.
Fuck Chris and his absolution, if he didn't want to finish what he started, so be it.
This wasn't an abandoned crack house, he didn't need to leave the building, but just had to find someone who lived here too.
Move, the force demanded again, now; and this time Elliot listened.
Without second thought, he slid from the chair and leaped for the door, even closer to it than ever before.
One -two- three steps now and with the door latch just in reach, he-
A thick arm quickly wrapped around his waist to throw him unceremoniously against the nearest wall. His left hand was on fire.
"Let go!" Elliot gasped loudly; too close to screaming for Chris' liking, so a skilled grip around the neck made him shut it quite nicely.
"Calm down, it's alright. Just don't be loud." At least right now. Nobody minded him being noisy elsewhere...soon, he couldn't expect this right off the bat. "Look, I'll let go, but the door is locked anyway, so don't freak out again."
What Elliot tried didn't came as a surprise, but hurt him nonetheless. Morris was more disappointed than upset.
"I'm not doing anything to you, I'm just trying to help!"
Still pressed against the wood-chip wallpaper, one fist grabbing his left arm and one flat on his chest, Elliot could do nothing but take ragged breaths. He was going insane, without question.
"Then help me," he wailed, "nothing of this is alright, I want to leave!"
"You want your next fix, but I won't let that happen, sweetie," he replied sullenly, noticing how Elliot cringed at the pet name. There was enough time to find one that fit.
"I'm not a fucking junkie!" he tried now, his breaking voice didn't make this any more convincing, much less his mood.
"Then why so antsy, huh?"
"It hurts," Elliot mewled, trying to pull his hand free, "just stop!"
"Why? I'm not even holding on tight..."
What was this man going on about? Elliot wondered if he was that dumb; or maybe found it funny.
"You know why," he whispered baffled.
Morris' disappointment spread. He knew what that meant, an imminent truth he tried to sugarcoat for a while: the answer to the question of why Elliot didn't show up for the Oratorio, or any other show after that.
Loosening his grip on the arm, but still pressing Elliot closer against the wall, he took his time to inspect the damned hand in question, to really look at his past fuck-up.
It was clearly thinner and paler, even compared to the rest of Elliot, except for the gnarly red scar line that ran from his wrist all the way to the back of his pinky. Fresh new wounds aside, the weakly curled up pair of fingers, four and five respectively, refused to spread out, not held by force but lack of it.
Morris could feel the rigid metal wires under the dewy, paper-like skin. A few pins in there, or a plate at least. The noise when knife met bone played on loop in his ears: the moment once sharp crunch turned into soft smacks.
This wasn't supposed to happen, all of it was simply wrong.
"Why does it look like that, Ell?"
"You tell me, asshole!"
The tension between them rose high again, and with their faces just inches apart, Elliot prayed that he overheard his insult. Any more pressure and his fingers would just snap on impact.
Despite it all, the confused man didn't pay him any mind, too focused on the fruit of his labor: "That doesn't make sense, it should be back to normal by now."
Through the smoke of pain and leftover narcotics, Elliot wondered if he could be braver this time around, as he pulled the hand back to his side.
"Doesn't matter anymore. I want - I need to go home. I don't understand why you're doing this at all. You're so-"
Different, yes. His Elliot was on the best way to finally understand. Chris didn't want to confess yet, it would be too much at once.
"I missed you." The soothing tone was put on in good faith.
"Missed?" It was practically spat at him. Missed what? Beating me? "Didn't you do enough already?"
Craving revelation, though refusing to back down, both men clenched their jaw tight.
"You need to stop, Morris," Elliot had one last desperate offer to give in case Chris really was insane, not in the pop psychology sort of way, but by being a seriously sick man: "I-I can visit you, okay?!"
Why visit when you can just stay?
"Elliot, quit being so formal."
A buzz ripped them apart. Go to hell, Elise!
Gladly, Morris let go of his chest to stomp over to the kitchen counter.
"Fucking Belanger, I swear to god." With a swift motion, the call was ended. It was obvious that dear Chris tried to keep his facade alive, even with all nerves on edge.
"That's my - uh, that's not really my boss, he only annoys me sometimes."
Elliot nodded wordlessly, as if he could give a rat's ass about Morris and his little pusher friends running around town, playing UNO all night long and ruining other people's relationships.
"Just ignore that, he's from Quebec so," he rolled his eyes excessively, "y'know?!"
No, Elliot didn't know. Respectively, he knew nothing, even after spending all morning with him. The oh-so obvious reason for his stay was still a blank hole of ignorance for him.
He couldn't believe a single word coming from that bastard's mouth, he was a liar back then, and he would be one on every single day to come.
Elliot didn't even register how badly he was shivering.
"We just take it slowly," Morris offered, but struggled to cleanse the atmosphere, "only talk and spend some time together. Do you know Azul? The game with the little tiles?"
Elliot sensed how this would go, the bile in his mouth started having the horrible aftertaste of moonshine and ichor.
Oh god, I can't do this again.
Dizziness hit him from nowhere and took all leftover strength from his already drained body. Panting heavily, Elliot didn't remember how he ended up on the cold floor, just how he kept on shaking whilst staring at Morris through blurry eyes.
As if underwater, no words reached him.
He'd laugh at himself, how the thought of another game night made his already wild panic spike, if his lungs didn't trick him into believing he was drowning on land.
I can't do this again, I can't do this again.
"Hey!"
A weight was placed on his chest, wrapping around his ribs and holding him close - so, so close as if to press all the fear out of him. His mind was racing, partly happy the oncoming lightheadedness alleviated the pain being pumped into him with every fluttering heartbeat.
Inhaling was needles in his lungs, exhaling pointless. The air refused to leave against the source of the comforting pressure.
"-need my pills," was the last thing he could force out, before the rest of Chris' heavy body buried him in a tight embrace. Next to Elliot's ear, he shook his head and shushed him gently.
"You're good for me" he murmured, fighting to keep the clutch, "I'm sorry, we'll make this work."
Unable to help himself, Elliot gave in to the dark walls that were closing in around them, praying for unconsciousness to take him away quickly.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]
Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24
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br1ghtestlight · 10 months ago
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i wish amelia was nominated for the 2024 awards but unfortunately i think they can only nominate one episode per season?? and amelia aired after the cutoff date for the 2023 awards anyway
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decidentia · 11 months ago
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Just a note to say thanks for bearing with me. ♡
#this has turned into more of a hiatus than i expected#i've not been putting pressure on myself to be here#so i've just been peeking occasionally#on the other side of the screen things have been a mix of good and bad#i've been settling into my new job#throwing myself into renovations#doing all the prep for christmas#attending my pottery class#minding my neighbour's cat while she's away#trying to get into the habit of using my art tablet#( when i git gud i'll share something and maybe start drawing our blorbos )#also just trying to be more ' present ' in the everyday#tw for medical and terminal illness but my uncle was recently diagnosed with multiple system atrophy#we thought it was parkinson's ( which is what took his father ) but it's actually so much worse than that#he was an avid cyclist just a few years ago and working as an aerospace engineer#now he's in a wheelchair and recently broke his hip for the third time#there's not much i can do but i want to be there for my family as much as i can#so thank you for your patience#rest assured i adore writing and roleplay is a very important part of my life#it is my main creative outlet and i value the friendships that spring from it#i hope to get the wheels turning again in the next couple of weeks#i'll be spring-cleaning behind the scenes#you are always welcome to reach out if you want to check the status of anything but just be aware i'll be slower than usual to reply#i hope life has been treating you all kindly – sending you my love ♡#◈ — ooc; saddest little baby in the room
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real-life-cloud · 1 year ago
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im GOING to write today ........ i WILL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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sincerely-sofie · 1 year ago
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What are your future plans after the pmd 2 au is done? What will the future look like?
The first time I read this question I thought I was being asked what the future looked like within my PMD2 AU itself, like, how it’s changed and stuff after the events of the game. I was starting to brainstorm some OCs who would demonstrate the impact of what amounts to a space-time save file being overwritten when I realized that was very much not what you were asking. Whoops.
As for a Post-AU future— I made this blog for completely different reasons than the PMD2 AU Boogaloo that it’s become, and I’m planning on getting back to its intended roots with time. In my introduction post way back in July, I said you could expect to see me make things like written and drawn art pieces of my original characters, chronicles of me struggling through 30-day challenges, diary comics, essays about obscure topics, and game dev logs. I’ll probably post a lot more of that stuff once I’m done with the AU, though I’m also planning to do a bit of it before The Present Is a Gift is completely finished. This blog was made to be a place for me to store my thoughts and creations, so that’s what it’ll be!
I’m not too much of a fandom person, though— especially when it comes to things other than what I was into as a kid— so you can expect I won’t be doing very much fandom posting of anything that came around after 2015.
So yeah! :>
Also, a bonus update on The Present Is a Gift: I’m planning to write out much of the prose for my AU during National Novel Writing Month this November, so if things go according to plan, I’ll start posting chapters sometime after that! I think I’ll post the chapters here as well as a side blog that would be dedicated to relaying the story of The Present is a Gift in order— that way it will be easier to read through the chapters in proper chronology without the rest of my posts clogging things up.
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prosebushpatch · 11 months ago
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Since Christmas is around the corner, I wanted to talk a little bit about one of the most well-known Christmas Redemption Arcs and my favorite thing about A Christmas Carol. Enjoy!
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kaijugroupy · 2 years ago
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summonsofink · 11 months ago
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A box appears in an orange zap of light at Aitar's feet, wrapped in creamsicle coloured paper, with a note attached by a yellow ribbon.
Upon opening the box, the God would be greeted with a silver-gold horn cuffs. They'd sit towards the top, a chain linking them. Alongside the horn cuffs were, in the same metal, four bangles. Each had a single stone inset - two were rose quartz, one lapis, the other citrine.
A note is scribbled on in glowing ink:
"merry christmas cotton candy 🧡🩷 hope it fits"
Aitar opens the gift with a slightly bemused expression - how cute to give him a gift, though he does love handmade goods and presents - but when he sees what's inside he is purely delighted. He laughs aloud and immediately starts affixing the jewelry to his horns and wrists. He's going to wear these for ages, and texts Davyd to let him know.
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Vain as anything, you spend ages looking at yourself in the mirror and admiring your reflection with this fine horn jewelry, especially.
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catsinthebagdesignposts · 11 months ago
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What Love Says… I am, that, I am. Love.
Love is… a whisper, a touch, a rhythmic beat, a smile in the heart from the heart, a feeling dancing within, dancing everywhere, love is there. You are the consequences of love in all you do. Create loving thoughts, words and actions through choice, decorating the present you become a gift of love to all.
Look here in the mirror of life, observe love's reflection everywhere, in the gift of breath on a cold day you see love dance in an exhale. A thousand moments flow here and there, moving love's energy deeper into your heart. In choosing love, you choose to create with a smile in your heart, love deepens and you begin to create, infectious as love. You are love, creating more love.
A reflection of love expressed when you choose to explore the power, the depth and the miracle of love that you are. From here you become a beacon, a light and a reflection of the love, you feel and know love is your truth.
Love you are, decorate you, and the world with all your heart.
Jennifer R. Cook @catsinthebagdesignposts invites you to embrace love in your life and enjoy What Love Says series.
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quatregats · 2 years ago
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Pullings and Mowett as midshipmen U18s making their first team debuts
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othelle · 11 months ago
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Pherost, my mum's elf champion.
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borizpixelarte · 2 years ago
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Merry christmas 2022!! . . #art #artist #digitalpainting #illustration #artwork #happy #sketch #beautiful #love #cartoon #drawing #dream #design #comics #digitalart #present #happy #christmas #painting #watercolor #creative #ink #tree #crazy #fun #work #cool #comicartist #2022 #wip @infinite.painter (en Colombia, Bucaramanga) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmkZPrPp17N/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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bobtaildigger · 9 months ago
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My unbelievable life - Episode 1 - Tim Burton
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imabiscuitinthousandworlds · 10 months ago
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*shaking you profusely* WE ARE MADE OF ATOMS!! ATOMS NEVER TOUCH EACH OTHER WE ARE JUST A TEEEEEENY WEENY BIT OF MATTER AND MOSTLY FORCES HOLDING US TOGETHER! WE ARE TO A LARGE PART ENERGY!! OUR MATTER IS EXACTLY THE SAME A STHE PARTICLES THAT MAKE OUT PLANET THAT CAME FROM NEBULAE THAT FORM STARS WE ARE LITERALLY STARDUST!!! OUR UNIVERSE IS GROWING AND WE ARE STARDUST AND ENERGY!!!!!!
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