#sobssssss

[etheroarts]

"That's the trouble with finding heaven. Losing it is more terrible for having known it in the first place."

The Tragedy of Carlo, Lea and Romeo is going to plague my heart till the end of my life I swear...

Edit: I forgot to mention this was a redraw of the Oshi No Ko op!

[sea-puppy-kisses]

Being hugged by f/os>>>>

[shes-an-iso]

screaming crying

[phonification]

everytime i draw over my art i feel like when u draw over a panel of a character with ur headcanons

[jazzically]

haha something something tmagp deliberately emphasises how sam is a normal person who entered his haunted job through normal happenings and couldve been literally anyone and is just unlucky. haha. ha. coughs and dies

[thatskindarough]

The issue I’m having right now with my art and school in general is that I’m just so woefully mediocre. Like..I’m good enough that when I ask my teachers for help they don’t know what to say, or just say keep doing what I’m doing, or like they don’t want to critique me even though I keep asking for it, but I’m also not good enough that people take note of me. Like no one is pulling me aside and telling me they can help with my portfolio, or that they have extra resources. Always “pretty good” but never eve “excellent” or “exceptional.” I’m not blind, I can see the mistakes on my art, and I know they can see it too.

And I get I need to be the one to seek it out, but it’s disheartening when people around you just have the potential that you currently don’t and get noticed for it. I guess I just need to keep drawing but I feel like I’m running out of time. I’m trying really hard. There’s not enough time in the day for me to be doing more. I just want to be successful, but it’s coming so slowly to me and I’m afraid by the time I’m done with school I won’t have much of anything to show for it

[junesprince]

remember that one go for it hanamura art yeah that was me here's the sequel

[angie-long-legs]

Leaves a little Husker plushie in his room. Yes she fuckin' bribed one of the moth girls a shit ton of money to get it in there. There was a tag on the little Husk that read: From Sir Pen & Vaggi. Miss you. Come home soon

As Angel stumbled through the door of his room with only one objective: collapse on the bed, not the floor. Make it to the bed. Don't hit the floor. Make it to the-

The spider's legs gave out, knees scuffing into the carpet while his upper hands sank into the bedsheets. Close enough. Three hands tugged at the mattress to try and hoist himself up on top of it, while a fourth clung onto a bottle of something he had found in Val's minibar that was currently sloshing out onto the floor. How he managed to make it onto the bed and still holding the bottle, he would never know. He certainly wouldn't remember.

After allowing a moment for the room to slow its spinning, Angel began to shimmy himself over to the pillows, fumbling around with the sheets to figure out how exactly he could get underneath them. He took one last glug from the almost empty bottle before letting it clatter to the floor, all four hands necessary to figure out how the fuck to go to bed. He'd feel better once he'd gotten some sleep.

While feeling around, Angel's hand came in contact with something plush and soft. Something he didn't recognise. Frowning, he lifted his head up to peer at what he was holding, double vision eventually merging into a singular image clear enough for him to see what it was.

A little cat plush, the spitting image of Husk.

Bewildered, Angel's hands ran over the soft fur of the plush, finding the tag attached and squinting to read it.

The crashing wave of loneliness that followed was almost unbearable. How the Hell had they even gotten this gift here for him? He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry for the millionth fucking time since he had run back and relapsed, clutching the plush to his chest as tightly as he could. Right now, it was all he had.

He couldn't think about how much he missed his friends. He wouldn't allow himself to think about it. Instead, he held the Husk plush with a desperate, longing kind of affection and begged his drunken mind to fall asleep.