#onealonelynumber

[daily-grian]

i present, itty bitty Grian doodles

itty bitty!

[foxiethefable]

@onealonelynumber I’ve only just been looking thru your posts and I look up to your art so much already! I have a very cutesy art style similar to yours (yours is so much better and it tastes like marshmallows lol) and you have shown me that it’s not bad to have a cute art style and it’s given me a newfound love for my own art! (I always tried to work on my art style to make it less “cute” bc I plan on having dark stuff in my comics sometimes and I always grew jealous of others art style but now I feel more comfortable embracing my cutesy art bc of you lol)

Here’s an example of his/her (idk ur pronouns lol im sorry) art in case anybody hasn’t seen any (y’all should definitely follow them (i revert to saying “them” if I don’t know the gender lol) bc they’re amazing) ⬇️

I really do love your style lol <3

[neowanderseternally]

Dead people receive more flowers than Living ones

“In the realm where souls rest, where silence prevails,

Where the living and dead intertwine like tales,

Flowers bloom, vibrant hues in a realm unseen,

Where regret spills forth, while gratitude remains unseen.

For the dead, a symphony of blossoms abound,

Petals cascading, adorning their sacred ground,

In death's embrace, bouquets of sorrow arise,

As if to compensate for the absence of goodbyes.

Regret, the weighty companion of the living heart,

A relentless shadow, tearing our souls apart,

It whispers in the depths, echoing through our veins,

Seeking solace in gestures, in floral remains.

But what of the living, whose hearts still beat,

Whose love, like a river, flows endlessly sweet?

Their presence, like a sunbeam, warms the soul,

Yet gratitude often remains untold.

We take for granted the beauty they bestow,

The kindness they sow, that continues to grow,

Yet their existence, like a fragile flower's bloom,

Yearns for acknowledgment, amidst regret's gloom.

Oh, how the living deserve a vibrant bouquet,

To brighten their days, to chase sorrows away,

For gratitude, a gentle rain on parched ground,

Nourishes the spirit, in whispers profound.

Let us not wait until their presence is no more,

To scatter petals, as regrets knock on death's door,

Instead, let gratitude bloom, like a field in spring,

For the living and dead, an offering we bring.

For in the end, regret's burden may weigh us down,

But gratitude's embrace can turn sorrow around,

So let us shower the living with flowers true,

For their existence is a gift, a blessing imbued.”