half my drawing was just gone

I won’t be gone forever! just for like… most of the year º—º’’

the thing is, I just started my last year of high school and the amount of classes and hw i have now is huge. i also have classes on saturday, so i can say goodbye to my weekends.. and all this so i can study for a test that’ll only happen at the end of november that will say if i can go to the college i want ;u;;; so y’know… i’ll have to study a lot and tumblr is too distracting 

i’ll try to post fanarts or some comics once in a while if i have free time ((i want to finish the braid comic before s2 airs but i kinda lost motivation for that? idk now i just want to finish it so i can add the httyd reference)), and i’ll come check here once in a while but other than that… don’t expect that much ^^” 

thank you if you stick around until i come back! I’ll miss reading your tags and your nice messages ;n;; I might be a bit more active on instagram tho? i post more doodles there i think, so if you’d like to, i’m sweetgaleria there too :3 

Oh yeah, commissions are still open if anyone’s still interested, just send me an email c: 

allllrighty this got long enough, so thank you for reading! C ya ~


Modern AU and morning routines


Everything happened at once this past week and a half and I didn’t get the chance to post about this in detail but… Two of our herd have gone on to their new forever homes! 

I’m leaving my hometown in just a couple of weeks now, and so I’ve been working on downsizing my herd enough that it won’t be a massive strain on my mother, who will take over as primary caregiver while I’m away… 

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Our Glory Days Are Numbered

It’s 3 AM and I should be asleep, but instead I’m thinking of Peaky Blinders and Bellarke. Proceed with caution: angst ahead.

The dust settles in the streets of Liverpool, and Clarke is long gone, but Bellamy keeps her drawing anyways.

The doe-eyed, silver-tongued spy who almost toppled the street king, they whisper in half-disgust, half-reverence whenever her name is mentioned in the next few weeks.

Before, before the dust and the battle and the betrayal, men and women alike used to teasingly call her the sweetest barmaid in all of England, whistling at her as she poured drinks with as much precision and skill as he slit throats. Bellamy could still picture the flash of her golden hair as she spun around the bar, serving drinks from the tray cocked at her hip and spinning a web around his heart at the same time. He had thought there was no room for an orphan like her, a soft-hearted girl like her, a good girl like her in his world. His bloody, bruising, rough-and-tumble world of the Delinquents, where greed always pulled at his stomach, for more of what they–the elusive they, the same ones who had sent boys off to the Great War, not caring they would come back broken men–told him he could never have.

He didn’t think he could have Clarke either, but she hadn’t agreed, perching on a damp bar table one night after closing, sketchpad clutched to her chest, looking at him with eyes bluer than the country sky that stretched carelessly over fields of harvest and fields of war alike, asking if she could draw him.

A king should have a portrait, she had said with a sly smile.

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do you ever just go onto the photo tag for colin firth and just. sit there. and stare. it’s been half an hour. your body goes numb from not moving. dinner has gone cold. you have fifteen missed calls from your friends. you forget the meaning of time. the apocalypse is drawing near. but still you can’t fucking take your eyes off of colin motherfucking firth’s gorgeous fucking face.