was this posted idk but

Here is a little something for all those nice supporters of art && artists out there :D You are the ones that keep us inspired and motivated! Anyway let’s go do a thing because you’re all so wonderful (well, most of you hehe) ♥

Reply to this post/reblog with an idea for a fanmade Mystic Messenger CG (funny, romantic, angsty, etc but nothing extremely explicit) in Cheritz style like the ones linked below:



It can include up to 3 characters (Anyone from the RFA including default MC and Saeran – && characters from Taemin Han AU are ok too if some are interested) ^__^ ++ I’m only going to start playing 707 Route this week so there are lots of details I still don’t know about his route so please avoid spoilers in the mean time :D

I’m going to pick and draw a few from the suggestions ♥ If lots of people suggest the same ideas, there’s more chances of it being drawn!

I’ll close this post on Friday (March 31)! Thanks again, and I hope everyone has a nice day/night!

Yaaaaaaaaaay I finally finish it

Palette as Star

Goth as Marco

From star vs the forces of evil

Hope you like it (⌒▽⌒)

The idea and desing is from @thatoneawesomeartist & @blogthegreatrouge

Original goth from @nekophy

Original palette from @angexci

The sun illuminates Iwaizumi’s tanned skin, glistening across his darkened features as warmth slowly spreads throughout their room. Oikawa never sleeps for too long, although he’d live everyday carrying the heavy weight of exhaustion if it meant he’d be able to steal a glance at that breathtaking sight. The persistent scowl of his lover was gone, lips slightly parted and chest rising with ease. Tooru always blames himself for being a burden, another problem that brings Hajime down, despite the fierce denial from his partner. He runs his fingers through Iwaizumi’s ebony locks, silently wishing, or rather praying that he gives his lover an ounce of the comfort he gets from him… “I love you Iwa-… Hajime.” Oikawa whispers those words before pressing a light kiss to the shorter male’s forehead.



March 27, 2017
15:37 pm KST (1:37 AM CST)




jhope-shi | do not reupload!

nya’ll mind if I

love my followers a lot

crying over a porcelain sink at your aunt’s house,
tears and blood draining,
angry at everything.

not being able to speak
to the only friend you have left
because you can’t find the words,
     there are none.

nothing musical lives in you anymore,
she came in and ripped away the melodies
and harmonies you had in your heart.

broken-hearted and bloody-nosed,
you realize while looking at someone
who resembles yourself in the mirror -
     you’ve lost it all.

nothing, nothing, nothing.
you are nothing,
you mean nothing,
     you are nothing.

this wouldn’t happen
if you’d love someone who loved you back,
this wouldn’t happen
if you weren’t stupid enough to follow people
who kick wishing flowers in the spring.

you wrote about broken hearts like you knew,
and you did.
but you never wrote about someone
who not only broke you,
but ground the bits of glass skin and veins into dust.

echoes of voices telling you to cut deeper
and find yourself again
are drowning out everything you know.
every day you are struggling, every day you grow weak.

wind whispers to the empty cavern below your rib cage,
     where are you?
     what’s happened?
     oh! - what have you done?

your hands shake a little too much,
you can’t keep food down.
you are sick, but the only thing the
people around you say is
     do better.

you leave the house at night
to find something to escape to,
and feel a flicker of something old there.
so you do it again, and again,
and your mom loses her trust with you.

     i love you’s
     turn into i don’t know you’s
and you cry and scream into a pillow late at night -
realizing that even the maps back to who you are
are distorted.

you are nothing but bad decisions
and drunken phone calls at 2 AM
to people who would rather be fucking a pretty girl
who knows what she’s doing.

when your best friend tells you
that you are the thing that haunts your dreams,
you realize you are truly something malicious.

when she leaves, all you remember from her
are her dissatisfied eyes, and embarrassment
of your fumbled words and miscalculated actions.

the only thing you seem to hear anymore
reverberates in your skull and turns into a grand crescendo
of despair when you are alone,
     you didn’t matter.

you can’t escape it, you learn she is right.
you dispose of yourself, and try to outrun
the dark things her heart let into yours
when you so stupidly opened up the iron gates.

sometimes, most times, it does not work.
you are devoured by those creatures with
skeletal hands and the stench of death leaking from them.

every moment before a reckless action
is made, you remember that
you are nothing,
you’ve become nothing,
     and you’ve done it to yourself.

then you free fall into something
with knives and swords,
and twist and turn and thrash to hold onto something tangible,
but simply end up with cuts and blood
and a sinking feeling.