ol' and dusty


Did this (pretty intense) ink and watercolor illustration for a Series of Unfortunate Events tribute gallery! Reading the books, I always imagined that the Reptile Room would be the coolest place - full of dusty ol’ books, lush greenery, and, ya know, reptiles. Also what’s not to love about an infant/snake friendship?

I’m selling the original piece on my Etsy here!


Why does Dylan looks so tall compared to every other dude in theater class?   Answered at last!   I had suspected in a previous ask that he was standing on an orchestra pit platform.


The school’s dusty ol’ black piano -  still used today.

Leaving Colorado today. :(   


Hey, everybody! Sorry for being inactive for so long! (To be honest, it goes by fast for a speedster, so I lost track of time there!! :-O) I know that was super un-crash of me to do! Sorrysorrysorry!

I’ll be answering things piling in my dusty, ol’ inbox for the winter break, but don’t think twice about poppin’ a new one in there! Just know it’s first come first serve and it could take a hot second to get answered!


these is what i imagine it would sound like if you tried to play a mummy like a clarinet.

Alright, this is getting out of hand.
The lot of you are scaring off my good customers! If you’re going to be standing around my shop like this, you’re going to make yourselves useful.

Except you.

 No owls the size of a house are allowed in my shop. You’re not getting your answers today so out, out with you!!

And you!

I go through all this trouble to come back and check up on you…but instead of saying ‘hi’, you busy yourself with leading that insufferable, blathering bag of dusty ol’ feathers to my doorstep? Hardly a shining example of chivalry by Hyrule’s wealthy elite, oh ho ho ho!
 Put your hat back on. Business is up and running again, and after all this trouble, you certainly owe it to me!


In the backroom; I almost forgot, there’s something I wanted to give you! Oh ho ho ho! Or rather, you forgot–because you left it here and I found it while I was cleaning shop the other day.

Then there’s you.

Actually, you’re fine where you are. Keep up the good work..you.

Now, if you don’t mind… I have customers to tend to, and questions to answer!! So please…let me get back to work, oh ho ho ho ho!!

Life’s been pretty slow lately. Luckily for me, I’ll be hitting the road again this week. Come Wednesday, Brandon, Ben, and I will be hittin’ the ol’ dusty trail (aka I-10 West) and heading to Big Bend National Park in southern Texas. While there we’re going to be camping out, exploring the mountains and desert along the Rio Grande, and eating some really bomb Mexican food. We’re also gonna be creating some content for @woolrichinc and @sturdybrothers along the way. All in all, it’s gonna be a grand time. I can’t wait to share it.


Atlanta was SO amazing !! They didn’t think we could sell out..But we diddddddd all 1150 of you ! (and a few more we snuck in the back ;) I literally had the best time of my life tonight !!
S/o to everyone in my “The Moms” crew that camped out front all day from earlier, Can’t believe you waited for me! So honored to have met you all!!! We’ll always be “the moms” ☺️ So much love to everyone from tonight ! Sorry I’m being all corny and cheesy n shit but this is my first real grown up show. in a city I don’t live in ,and you guys all really paid 26 bucks to see dusty ole me . That’s fucking priceless . Thanks again for helping me believe in myself a little . Until next time sweet Atlanta 😘 Bless

preference eleven: skinny love


Luke: Luke had it bad. He had it really bad. It was the kind of bad where you didn’t even admit you have it that bad, you didn’t even admit anything. You just brushed everything under the rug and hoped that the next day it didn’t feel like this overwhelming sense of (unrequited, in his opinion) love and need and want and (false, he thought) hope. But it didn’t go away. In fact, it did quite the opposite. And really, Luke blamed it all on you. (He really did.) Because whenever he looked over at you when all five of you were watching a movie on the slightly cramped couch of the tour bus, he couldn’t help but slide those feelings out from underneath that dusty ol’ rug and imagine just what it could be like––what he hoped it would be like––if you felt all those things and more. However, it him the worst whenever you would fall asleep on him; your head resting on chest, shallow breaths inhaling and exhaling through your nose, and your arms wrapped around his torso. That was when it hurt the most, when the words were screaming to be unlocked from his mouth. But no––Luke wasn’t going to admit anything. He couldn’t, really (or at least that was what he told himself). But the only thing Luke wasn’t going to lie about, or deny, was the fact that when you fell asleep on him, when you nuzzled your face into his chest and smiled a small smile, your hands pressing themselves more firmly into his skin, he imagined what it would be like to have this everyday. He wondered what it would be like to finally tell you the words that had been cast down to the pit of his stomach every time they dared to crawl up his throat and claw at the entrance to his mouth. Luke wondered what it would finally be like to say those three words: I love you.

Calum: “Calum?” Your voice called out across the expanse of five thousand miles that separated the two of you. “What’s up?” You nervously gnawed on your bottom lip. Normally, you called each other three times a week (though you texted every single day) but you and Calum hadn’t talked in the past five days. (You weren’t going to lie and say that it didn’t make you worry and wonder if everything was okay between you two.) Really, both of you had come up with the arrangement because you didn’t want to take up too much of his time––you could never do that––and you wanted him to have fun fulfilling his dreams and doing things that most people could only ever imagine doing. You wanted him to be him. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted and you cocked your head to the side, confused at the tone in his voice. “Is everything okay, Calum?” You could hear him gulping and sighing on the other end of the line before words were heard from across the great expanse. “Um––you’re still coming, right? In two weeks? for London?” (Calum had made plans for you to visit him when they were in London, a city that you had wanted to visit for years now but to no avail––courtesy of your not-so-kind bank account and mountain of coursework from your classes.) And he sounded slightly worried and slightly hopeless and you were curious as to what was going on. “Yeah, I was planning on it. Is that okay?” Movement could be heard from across the line and you guessed that Calum was nodding his head; he often forgot you couldn’t see him at times and it took him a minute to realize that words were necessary. “Yeah, it’s okay.” (It’s more than okay.) “I can’t wait to see you,” you admitted with your lips tucked into your teeth. Normally, you weren’t keen on hushed confessions but, for some reason, you couldn’t help but whisper it through the phone. You couldn’t help but acknowledge the bubbling adrenaline and excitement and pure bliss that was flowing through your bloodstream in that very moment. It was kind of overwhelming. “Neither can I,” he repeated and a small smile found its way onto your lips no matter how hard you tried to keep a straight face. (Calum had this unnerving ability to know when you were smiling––even if it was through the phone.) You heard him take a large inhale on the other end and it sounded like he was going to say something more a minute (and he was). “I––Y/N. I––um––” He broke off, his words getting lost when traveling from the pit of his stomach to his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry and you wondered what he was going to tell you. “Calum? Are you okay?” He gulped but responded with a polite yeah, sorry. Just lost my train of thought. (And he did. He did lose his train of thought. But that was because he was imagining waking up to you and seeing the sunlight filter in through the windows and falling onto your face, illuminating it in this kaleidoscope of warmth and happiness and love and everything that he felt for you.) “I’m just––i’m just happy you’re going to be in London with me,” he confessed––but you both had some idea that wasn’t the confession he was intending on revealing.  

Michael: You sat in between michael’s legs, your focus on the television where you were currently trying to show Michael Clifford who was boss. Your arms rested along his legs as he placed his own pale arms on your shoulders. "You’re gonna lose, mister,” you taunted, your lower lip tucked between your teeth. The fast pace of the video game was making your heart race and pound and your pulse quicken. “You wish,” he responded back with a smug grin. And five minutes later, you were right. You jumped out of his grasp at that point and pumped your fist into the air, video game controller still gripped tightly in your left hand. "I am the champion, my friends. And I’ll keep on fighting till the end. No time for losers, cause I am the champion––of the world!” You sung off-key, a happy smile curling onto your features and eyes gleaming bright. You were about to continue taunting Michael (as was your tradition and job of being his close friend) when his phone rang. “Hello?” He called out through his phone and feigned boredom when he realized who was on the other end of the line (Luke). “Oh,” he commented. “It’s just you,“ you giggled and sat yourself next to him, your elbows resting comfortably on his back as he leaned across the armrest of the couch to talk to the boy. "Are you still on the bus?” You could hear Luke ask and Michael nodded his head before murmuring a quick yes, his heart beginning to race fast at the realization of where this conversation was going. “Is Y/N with you?“ Luke teased and Michael groaned before pushing you off him. And you weren’t sure why Luke cared whether you were with Michael or not. You two were close friends and were often found with each other. (And if you weren’t with each other, you were nearby. You and Michael were kind of like magnets; if one was somewhere the other was most likely nearby if not attached to the hip.) "Yes, I’m with her,” Michael answered, his tone impatient and his words clipped and curt. Luke tutted through the phone before teasing Michael even further. “Telling her you love her? That you want to marry her? Have kids with her? Any of those would do, I think.” Michael eyed you nervously from across the couch, your arms crossed over your chest and your focus purely on the color of the couch (you may or may not have zoned out). “What? No, Luke. I gotta go, okay.” And it was a lame way out of the conversation, he knew that. But there was just something about the idea of you and him that terrified him and crazed him all at the same time. He really wasn’t sure what to do about you. Your focus honed back in on Michael when you heard the familiar click signifying the end of the phone call. “What did Luke want?” You asked curiously, your voice lilting up at the end and your heart jumping when Michael brought you into him. “Nothing, really. Just being his usual annoying self.”

Ashton: In all honesty, people thought you had to be blind. People thought both of you had to be blind. How could you not have been? Ashton and you were so clearly something that when this something was brought up­­­­­­­––anytime, anywhere––both of you had an uncanny ability to deny it as best as you could. “You’re blind,” your best friend commented wryly for the millionth time that night as you both sat in the dressing room backstage. Ashton had just left, pressing a kiss to your cheek and wrapping his arms around you before running out with the remainder of the boys. (He may or may not have stolen a second glance at you before running out the door.) "Excuse me?” You responded indignantly, already having an idea as to where this was going. “Y/N, why don’t you just admit it for once instead of denying it?” She threw her hands up in the air, annoyance lacing its stubborn way through each and every syllable, allowing you to understand her intentions. “Because there is nothing there. We’re friends. My god, why does everyone hound me about this?” And the last question was really rhetorical. You hadn’t been wanting an answer but your friend had never understood the point of anything rhetorical. (If someone’s asking a question, they want an answer. There’s no such thing as rhetorical questions.) “Because it’s completely obvious! Both of you! Oh my god, Y/N. You’re both so in love with each other.” And you tried to fight the blush that was coming onto your face, you really did, but you could feel your cheeks heating up irregardless and you turned away from her. You knew she wouldn’t let you live it down if she saw the way your cheeks were stained crimson and your eyes glimmered. “Me and ash are friends. I don’t get why everyone thinks we are so much more.” She rolled her eyes before plopping back down onto the couch behind her, a bottle of coke in her hand. “I’m positive that’s what he says, too. And I bet he blushes when he says it––just like you.” (You were never sure how she knew you were blushing without even seeing you. But, really, you weren’t all too sure how she knew a lot of the things she knew.) “You’re in love, Y/N. Both of you are so completely in love with each other. Just wait.” (And you would.)