Hey Hey Your Art Requests Still Open?

THE AMAZING DIGITAL SCHOOL HOUSE AU

Ragatha

JAX

PomnI

Gangle

Zooble

Kinger

Caine AND bubble

Character list

some creature doodles (miros bird, stowaway, centipede)

I'm trying to get good at that seamless fusion between flesh and metal

A Small Step, But Still a Step Forward" 💙✨

Every day feels like a battle—against loss, against despair, against the uncertainty of tomorrow.

But today, we’ve reached $1,580 out of our $90,000 goal. It may not seem like much, but to us, it means hope. It means someone is listening.

The journey is long, and the need is great. But every share, every kind word, and every bit of support reminds us that we are not alone.

💙 If you can, please help us move forward.

Chuffed

Donate to Help Mosab saving who's left of his family

My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my

🙏 I deeply appreciate your time and support. If this tag disturbed you in any way, I sincerely apologize. Please feel free to ignore this post if it doesn’t feel right for you.

✅️ Vetted by ✅️

@gazavetters

@bilal-salah0

Thank you for believing in us. Your kindness gives us strength. ❤️

Saint as a furby..?

I usually post art at about 5 am (in my timezone), but ehh, I'll post this a bit earlier.

"knight"

intertwined

get a mf who does both

Which is a way one could say that

I should have made this during valentines day

"Bleed the Sky"

The sky bursts open,

not gently,

not softly,

but like a body breaking,

like something holding on for too long

finally letting go.

The first drop hits—

hot asphalt hisses,

dust rises like ghosts startled awake,

and the earth opens her mouth

like she’s starving.

There’s no beauty here.

No poetry.

Just the raw writhing of water finding cracks,

finding hunger,

finding every place that aches or crumbles or waits.

The rain doesn’t ask permission.

It doesn’t care where it falls—

forest, rooftop, desert, skin.

It pounds against leaves as if to punish them

for turning their faces away,

fills the throats of rivers

until they choke on their own rushing,

slides down windowpanes like tears

too heavy to hold back.

And it keeps going.

There is no tenderness in this.

This is not about grace.

This is about gravity and surrender,

the weight of billions of tiny impacts

stripping the world bare.

And something in you loosens—

against your will,

unraveling in the rhythm,

in the relentless pounding that reminds you of your own breaking,

of the times you couldn’t stop falling.

You stand there,

letting it hit you,

letting it drench everything you thought was safe.

Maybe this is what healing feels like:

not silent, not soft,

not clean.

But messy.

Wet hands in the dirt,

skin soaked,

blurry vision as everything spills.

The rain knows.

It always knows.

It comes to destroy,

and in the destruction

it leaves something you didn’t know you were—

raw, gasping,

and growing.