Whoever brings me answer will have a warm and soft cookie 🍪

make bad art or you will always feel bad about your art. Make bad art until you find joy in the crooked lines and the off colours. Make bad art because art is about expression and artwork is never ugly because it was made by someone who has lived a life no one else will ever live. Make bad art and find love through ugly. Make bad art so you make art at all. Make bad art.

more for the percico story i keep adding to :^\ merry (early) christmas to the boys that can’t figure it out

on a mission to draw my friends' wols and my first victim was @saberghatz

Death grip

u ever read a fanfic so good that you want. fanfic of the fanfic

Art improvement / how I draw Nico di Angelo and Will Solace in 2014 vs 2023. My style is so different now, it feels like they've grown up with me :')

Also HI PJO fandom it's been a hot minute since I posted on tumblr, I hope everyone has been well <3

Was Billy (accidentally) written as Steve's next love interest - a Meta

This is far from thought out and more thoughts thrown into a post. This is for fun and an over analysis by someone who did 4 years of media studies and has a major bias so don't take it personally

If you still had any doubts about Billy flirting with Steve during the shower scene, he makes the same arm pose while wooing K*ren. Hope this helps.

Billy "Look at my muscles please" Hargrove

a bit of an older reference i made for one of my characters

“'Are you kidding?” He grinned at Annabeth.

'A chance to do quests, just the three of us? Like old times? The Three Musketeers!'

'The Powerpuff Girls,' Annabeth suggested.

'Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey,' I said.

'Wait a minute,' Grover said. 

frostbite studios on insta

heyyy if you put them together it looks kinda cool 😌

I just want you all to know, that if and when this site does experience a real exodus and/or get sunsetted for good, even if we don't keep in touch I'll remember you so fondly. You're the online equivalent of the other kid on the beach where we built sandcastles together; the girl at the campsite where we explored the trees. You're the drunk person who shared kind words in the bathroom at the club, you're the talented artists at the life drawing class or the poetry night in a city where I don't live anymore. It makes me sad that maybe in the future our paths won't cross so easily, but even when we leave this little shared piece of cyberspace, carried away on our briefly intersecting trajectories, just know I still love you