The_poiyo_
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thepoiyo.bsky.social
The_poiyo_
@thepoiyo.bsky.social
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ginyoagoldie.bsky.social
i made a website you can animate on!
a bit buggy.. but it works.. lmk what yall think!
ginyo.space/celstomp
February 7, 2026 at 4:54 PM
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mspeakeasy.bsky.social
Dynamic duo 🎱
September 26, 2025 at 12:07 PM
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dovegraveyard.bsky.social
Bedside bibles for true believers
January 9, 2026 at 4:08 PM
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birdmofu.bsky.social
2026🎠🎍
January 1, 2026 at 3:03 AM
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rexhedge.bsky.social
#commission
December 29, 2025 at 4:17 AM
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dovegraveyard.bsky.social
Darling, please..
December 14, 2025 at 6:48 PM
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rexhedge.bsky.social
#commission
December 18, 2025 at 5:25 AM
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avrilcircus.bsky.social
"Please finish your cake and then, we'll dance.
-Right there?
-Don't you want to?"
Because he is just a snowflake after all, the prince is very unpredictable. ❄️💖🦢
December 16, 2025 at 10:01 PM
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dovegraveyard.bsky.social
💫💍💕
November 1, 2025 at 9:13 PM
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shadock2001.bsky.social
In Cosmic Holidays, there are no collectibles, no bosses, no violence, and no overwhelming list of powers.
Instead, you explore an unknown world and embark on a journey designed to bring you joy, emotion, and serenity.

Don’t wait, wishlist it now ❤️

store.steampowered.com/app/2190640/...
November 26, 2025 at 8:55 PM
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avrilcircus.bsky.social
Ghosts being caught doing everything but their job. ✨👀
October 28, 2025 at 11:15 PM
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avrilcircus.bsky.social
Choosing gloves with the man who wears gloves in his sleep. Perfect. 🧤
September 4, 2025 at 9:22 PM
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avrilcircus.bsky.social
"If you don't take it, I'll buy it for you."
September 7, 2025 at 12:31 PM
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rexhedge.bsky.social
Happy birthday to me!🥳🥳🥳
September 9, 2025 at 4:02 AM
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rexhedge.bsky.social
一个关于落魄小说家与十九世纪幽魂的zine :)
A zine about the frustrated novelist and the ghost of the nineteenth century, for the English text, please see the alt text.
#Zine #OriginalArt
Front and back cover P1: I woke from a dream, cold to the bone, as if I had been buried within a slab of yew. It seemed to whisper to me a story worth recording—a haunted tale. But I cannot remember a thing. If only I could write it down, I might escape my current predicament. This is a spark sent by the gods—if I can seize it, I am sure to win the world’s favor. This is my last chance. Nightmare, sweet dream—when will you come to kiss me again? P2: I dreamt it was the cemetery of Venice, A sorrowful ghost, muttering as all ghosts do; I could not make out what he said. At dawn’s stirring, my own murmurs woke me. Once more, I have written nothing down today. At most, I can still afford a panini for two days’ meals. And after that? P3: Somehow, even a drafty, broken house is worth a handful of coins— All my last money spent for a roof, and a few pieces of furniture I cannot eat. Yesterday, I dipped my tongue in ink— It tasted of pesto. I cut the ink-blotted manuscript into thin strips and swallowed them, Praying that the ghost dwelling behind my soul Might read my stories at midnight and laugh. His voice, when he recites, is like the echo of knocking on the doors of my childhood home. P4: A quarter of the panini had already turned sour. I tried to cut it in half again, But in the end, it fell to the ashen floor. I stared at it—mottled bread and still-bright ham lying on the ground, Silent and at ease. I left it be. At night I dreamed of that pale ghost once more; This time, he told me a brief story— I was wild with joy. When I woke, I found myself covered in manuscript pages; Even the sunlight seemed dimmer by comparison. P5: My novel is about to be published—the newspaper editor advanced me a few silver coins. I haven’t eaten in days, living only on tap water, And yet, I feel full. That sorrowful, laughable ghost still hasn’t left. Perhaps he will tell me more stories, Or tell me why he always gazes at me with those eternal eyes. "Have I ever told you—the ghost’s voice reading my stories Sounds like a kind of echo? It always feels familiar, but I can never remember just what it is. You must remember when we walked along the shimmering shore of Lake Como— Back then, I was still rich, still proud. And there was ■■—my God, how could I forget him! You must remember. Surely, you remember. Anyway, we will return to Lake Como; The old days will come again. Be sure to write to me." P6: I dreamed of that ghost—we walked together at dusk, His steps silent, his eyes shining in the sunlight Like memories I had lost. I can’t remember what we talked about, Only that Lake Como sparkled under the orange sunset like a sky full of stars, And we, like two small boats, drifted slowly through the starlight. Two foolish schoolboys, heads together, Whispering trivial secrets. I said to the ghost, “Look—how much we resemble our former selves.” But only the tide answered me— Cold, so cold, the rocks huddled in the arms of the sea.
June 4, 2025 at 2:17 PM
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rexhedge.bsky.social
🐲 #DD2
June 11, 2025 at 8:27 AM
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avrilcircus.bsky.social
By the lake, a fairy meets two unicorns seeking for a place to hide and spend the night. They might never leave, or they might take the fairy with them in their adventure. ✨
March 27, 2025 at 11:19 AM