#so now I have send in invoices

[nice-bright-colors]

Smells like (2) hours to me. After all, tomorrow’s will smell like about (4) hours.

[bestagons]

Can someone point me to the source of where we know Phil was the one who wanted to restart the gaming channel

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Can someone please draw this...

...to look just like this.... :' )

are you a "you might not see a great difference between good and evil, but saving others will make your world a little more beautiful"

or a

"even if you are nothing more than a pattern on the surface of raw power, you are you; because all humans, all lives, and the bodies and brains comprising them, are nothing more than patterns; beautiful patterns, etched into this physical world"

type of wise older male figure who realizes everything they should have said long ago only on their deathbed, and encourages the lost boy protagonist who questions their humanity to live, with words that will be the most uniquely validating and comforting to them?

[fazcinatingblog]

Good night Tumblr xx

[vriendenboekjes]

remember how i lost my public transport card last week? well turns out i put it in a different compartment in my wallet instead of the one i usually put it in.

[luwha]

LMAO so, recently someone tried to SCAM me, so i'll show you what happened and the telltales of it being a scam.

This one is quite obvious but i know people who are just starting their artist careers and might not have experiece.

Follow the thread:

🚩#1: They pick your most famous/Popular art as reference. They don't know what you actually sell.

🚩#2: They will pick a random popular character. They're not roleplayers or anything. They're not here for the art in any level

You ask me, what are the odds they really like Goku? Oh, well, you'll see. At this point i check their profile for anythign that might indicate it, but as you'll see you won't have to.

🚩#3: They say they saw my ToS. On it i state i only work with paypal and google forms.

🚩#4: Random issue with payment method. They might have a real problem with it, but see; they'll never ever accept any other payment method, such as Zelle, CashApp, Payoneer, Ko-fi, etc.

I already knew this drill so, let's continue.

🚩#5: I love playing dumb lmao. Anyway, this scam revolves on them either sending you "too much money" and asking it back or something like it. I won't be following through because i know it'll be annoying.

BE ADAMANT WITH YOUR METHODS. Do NOT EVER bend them for randos.

🚩#6: They're so ready with the info on how the payment works it's fucking funny.

The reason I PERSONALLY use PayPal INVOICES (no any other payment within paypal) is that they're safe for both me and my client. My rules are stated clearly.

MAKE A ToS I BEG YOU YOUNG ARTIST

🚩#7: They're not even a good scammer lmao they REFUSE to go on my PROFILE to get a link or read anything.

I use Forms because it collects the client requests and it's easier for me to read it all in one place. It ALSO makes scammers bored.

🚩#8: They're so disinterested on the art they don't care for posing, vibes, colors, nothing. Again, they're NOT here for art. That's hilarious.

🚩#8: Same as above. They don't care for posing or anything.

On my art they link me, i have a vampire almost staking himself in a state of euphoria.

IMAGINE VAMPIRE GOKU STAKING HIMSELF THAT'S SO FUCKIGN FUNNY MY BRO, THINK YOUR SCAM THROUGH MAYBE

🚩#9: They will price your own work for you. And they'll overshot what we, smaller artists, charge for it.

They'll overshot by a lot.

They want you to be impressed and showing "generosity" usually gets people who need monay into risky situations. That's just plain cruel.

🚩#9: Same as above. Over generosity and eagerness to pay.

They're not even with the sketch, this haven't been an hour, they don't have any work form me but OH GOD they're SO READY to pay you NEED TO KNOW they WANTS TO PAY YOU SO BAD

Lmao yeah it's working out ❤️

THIS ONE IS JUST HILARIOUS BRO I CAN'T EVEN.

ANYWAY let's continue

🚩#10: They don't know me. They don't follow me. They broke every rule on my ToS. They're making me go through a payment method i am unfamiliar and don't use.

They don't care for my process. They're not interested on my sketch.

BE. ADAMANT. ABOUT. YOUR. RULES. AND. PROCESS.

Now, for the beautiful closure of this:

Have a ToS. Don't bend the rules for randos.

Use Invoices. Be sure you're safe.

Use forms if you'd like. Requests through DM and Discord ARE COMMON FOR OTHER ARTISTS. I personally don't like it, i have ADHD.

Being an artist on an online space is dangerous. If you need help, poke an artist you know, see how they operate and if it fits you. Most of them would help you.

🚩#11: goku isn't even on their icon 😭

This is the account that tried to scam me.

#art is life ❤️

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can��t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked. 

[randomactsofpigeon]

gods but my new coworker is a neurotic jackass

[perseephoneee]

PLEASE do something super fluffy with kol mikealson

i love ur work sm!!

babe you're making my day. hope this is something akin to what you wanted.

"you're red." "shut up." "like actually vermillion." (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: kissing?? also hatred towards bed and breakfasts

a/n: i forgot how much i love writing for kol. sorry for the large writing break...hope this makes up for it?

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

You hate Kol Mikaelson. 

He’s cocky, impulsive, and constantly getting you into danger that you would never find for yourself. He also relentlessly flirts with you until you’re warm and deeply frustrated.  He’s complicated enough that you wish he wasn’t a part of your life so it could resume a sense of normalcy. 

Getting caught up in Mikaelson drama was never your plan. You just happened to make the mistake of working as a bartender at Russo’s—where they frequented. Klaus took a liking to you, and the rest is history. Being a human that’s friends with vampires is like poking a bear; not recommended nor convenient. 

This recent conflict was forgettable but proved to be a disruption to your life. One of them annoyed someone, and that someone wanted revenge, and now apparently you were in danger, and so on and so forth. You have repeatedly debated sending an invoice to the Mikaelson compound for restitution. You don’t think Klaus would find it very funny. 

You almost forgot about your life being in danger until you were forced to go on the run with the youngest brother, Kol. Kol, who insisted on driving you nuts. You kept trying to tune him out in the car, listening to the radio or focusing on the trees speeding past your window. Still, he was relentless and wouldn’t leave you alone for a minute. Plus, he was a horribly reckless driver, and you were gripping the door so tightly that you might hurt a muscle any minute. 

“I’ve lived for a very long time, but I’ve never visited Fes,” Kol said, one hand on the wheel as the other tapped on the door. You barely spared him a glance. “Would you visit Fes?”

“Not even sure what Fes is,” you answered through gritted teeth, suppressing a yelp as Kol took a turn obnoxiously fast. 

“City in Morocco considered its cultural capital.”

“You sound like a Google search,” you scoffed, sparing him half a glance. Long enough of a glance for Kol to give you a toothy grin, his canines glinting in the sunlight. 

“I like knowing things,” he states, squinting at you. “I don’t know much about you. Tell me something.”

“No.”

“Please?” he begged, every bit a kid enjoying picking on the new kid on the playground. You fixed him with a dead stare. 

“I hate your driving.” That caused him to laugh, which made him throw his head back and speed up even more. You clutched the handle and clenched your teeth till you felt your whole body would seize up. Kol eventually took pity on you and slowed down. It was enough for you to relax…slightly. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Brilliant. I’m going to die out here,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. 

“Nonsense. Nik would dagger me if I let that happen, and I’m very tired of being daggered.”

“Not because you care about me or want me to live?” you jested, quirking a brow at him. 

“Now, why would I care about you at all?”

You pretended it didn’t sting, even though it felt impossible for you to care about Kol. Still, hearing him say it felt a bit like a slap in the face. You just turned more out the window, ignoring him. You didn’t notice the sharp look he sent you, as if he regretted what he said. 

Instead, you notice a sign advertising a Black Bear Diner. You perk up immediately, tapping the window and looking back at Kol. 

“There. Stop there.”

“That piece of garbage?”

“Yes! Stop the car!” you shouted, regretting your words when Kol slammed on the brakes. “Stop the car slowly, you asswipe.”

“You should’ve clarified that,” he smirked. You jumped out of the car, ran towards the restaurant, and experienced euphoria when the smell of waffles and fresh coffee hit your senses. Kol walked up slowly, hands in his pockets. The sun was obnoxious out here, but there were enough trees in the area to not make it feel like a desert. You could even see the mountain in the background in all its snowcapped glory. 

The inside of the diner was a welcome breeze on your damp skin. It wasn’t very crowded, and you got seated immediately as you happily flipped through your plastic menu. Kol looked slightly uncomfortable sitting in the diner, but you ignored him. You were getting pretty good at ignoring him. 

“I used to go here all the time with my family,” you said, flipping to the drinks page of your menu. “Not this exact location…but this chain. I went to it when I first moved to my hometown.”

“It’s barely gourmet.”

“Fuck gourmet, I want comfort. I want to feel like home,” you laughed, closing your menu. “Don’t you want that?”

“Home?” Kol inquired. “Not sure what that is anymore.”

Your lips turned down in a frown, but you offered nothing else. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, and you wouldn’t force him. The waiter came over to take your orders, and you happily ordered a black coffee, orange juice, and a waffle platter. After they left, you started packing your bag with the tiny jams and creamers they had out on the table. Kol just looked at you in disdain. 

“You are pathetic.”

“Rent is expensive, groceries are expensive, give me a break,” you snorted, taking a few sugar packets for good measure before you stopped looting. Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his seat. His leg bounced from anxiety, and his fingers tapped the table in a paradiddle pattern, just left, right, left, left, right, left, right, right over and over again. He looked shockingly young, like the boy before he turned, and not the man he paraded as. For a split second, you could see yourself having a crush on him in high school if he was one of your peers. You erased that thought as soon as it came. “Can I ask a question?” you leaned forward on the table, arms folded in front of you. “Why are you guys always protecting me? I’m definitely a liability.”

“I think my brother just wants to sleep with you,” Kol sighed. You snorted, biting your bottom lip to subvert your laughter. Honestly…you have managed to weasel your way into our family—like a parasite.”

“Aw, your words are so kind,” you rolled your eyes, kicking Kol under the table. He just kicked you right back, wearing a smirk. “And I would never sleep with your brother.”

“Why’s that?” Kol questioned, crossing his arms. 

“His face is weird,” you answered. Kol put his head in his hands in laughter, and you joined him a second later. You weren’t sure if that was the reason, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and you didn’t think to change it. Plus, it made Kol laugh, which kind of made you happy. The arrival of your waffles made you even happier. 

“Bloody hell, you’re going to eat all of that?” Kol looked shocked, eyes flicking between you and your waffles. He had ordered a much smaller plate than yours. Yours likely could’ve been a party platter. 

“Yes, and I will do it with pride.”

You did eat all of it, and enjoyed Kol’s expression the whole time. He looked so disturbed it made up for it. You also drank all your coffee, orange juice, and free water refills. Your plan was to eat enough to enter hibernation. You even think Kol was a little impressed at some point. Kol asked the waiter for the nearest hotel, and they pointed you to a place three miles down the road that would likely have openings. By the time you left the diner, it was starting to get cold as the sun was setting. You could hear crickets; you probably would’ve gotten fireflies if you were more south. Kol drove surprisingly slow towards the hotel, which you attributed to his worry that going fast would cause you to throw up your entire waffle extravaganza. He slowed down even more when you came up to the “hotel”—which was actually just a bed and breakfast. An extremely cutesy bed and breakfast. 

The inside of the building was somehow worse than the outside. 

The outside had small-town charm. The inside was where doilies went to die. 

Both you and Kol exchanged glances as he went up to ring the bell. You counted seven cat portraits before a portly woman came out with a cheeky smile. She wore a linen frock and a floral dress right out of the 1960s. 

“Well, good evening,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?” She had a thick Minnesotan accent, and her smile made her eyes. Overall, she radiated friendliness. 

“We’d like a room?” you inquired, leaning against the counter. 

“Oh, you betcha! Lucky for you, I got the best suite in the house available. It’s perfect for you two lovebirds,” she chirped. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, uh, we’re not together…,” you coughed. You turned to look at Kol, who just shrugged his shoulders. Completely useless. “Do you have a double?”

“Unfortunately, all our doubles are booked for our birding convention. I might have a futon available to bring to your room?”

“Perfect,” Kol smiled, finally interjecting. “We’ll take that.”

“Splendid! Here are your keys, and I’ll have you sign in there.”

You brought your one bag with you up the stairs and to the right to a room at the end of the hall. The wallpaper was mocking you at every turn, a plethora of orchids and pinks staring at you, along with the eyes of fifty million felines. You were certain Dolores Umbridge was hiding somewhere amongst the foliage. The room was less pink but still reminiscent of something in a senior home. The bed was the nicest part: a large four-poster with mahogany bedposts. The wallpaper was sage color with pictures of ferns. The ensuite bathroom had a clawfoot tub and gold décor. A painting of a young boy eating ice cream was on the wall. You immediately took it off the wall and turned it around so you didn’t have to look at it all night. 

“It’s a little…”

“Cozy?” Kol interjected, closing the door behind you two. 

“I was going to say tight.”

“It is the lovebird suite, darling,” Kol whispered in your ear, a smirk in his voice. A shiver ran down your spine. 

“I’ll take the futon.”

“I doubt you could fit a futon in here,” Kol scoffed. He was right. There was really only room for the bed and bedside tables. Whoever designed this room intended to spend a lot of time in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought. You tapped your foot in thought before eventually sighing in defeat.

“Just…don’t get too handsy,” you shrugged, glaring at the vampire’s ever-present smirk. 

“Handsy? You must think me a rascal,” Kol cooed, stepping closer into your space. The room was tight, which meant you were backed against the wall. You felt like a rabbit being targeted by a fox, his mischievous grin and wandering eyes taking all of you in. Your eyes were drawn to how he licked his lips, and suddenly, your blood pressure spiked. Heat crawled up your neck, and you knew that Kol noticed. He always managed to notice. 

“Knock it off, Mikaelson,” you hissed, tilting your head up defiantly. 

“You’re actually red,” Kol chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“…Shut up,” you slapped his hand away, maneuvering your way from his grasp. 

“Like actually vermillion,” he laughed, and you gave him an unsavory gesture as you escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Back against the door, you breathed out, groaning into your hands. You pushed off the door, getting ready for bed in an effort to put this night behind you. You cleaned up, brushed your teeth, and put on pajamas. In hot weather, you usually just wear a T-shirt and shorts to bed. Your t-shirt said, ‘I got lobotomized at Freddy Fazbear’s,’ something idiotic that you couldn’t even fully be ashamed of. When you exited, Kol was lying on top of the covers on his phone, having changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked up when you exited, snorting as he read the shirt. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

“It’s too evolved for you to understand,” you rolled your eyes, getting in on the other side of the bed and leaving space between the two of you. Kol smelled sweet, like vanilla, and it was slowly suffocating you. You both sat in silence for a second before Kol disrupted it. 

“Y/N,”

“No.”

“Darling,” he purred, inching closer to you. 

“What, Kol,” you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. 

“You like me,” he said. It was not a question, just something he exclaimed. You scoffed. 

“I do not.”

“You do. It’s why you blush vermillion when I call you things like darling,” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbow as he lay on his side to stare at you. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“So, if I kissed you…you wouldn’t care,” Kol inquired, voice soft as he sat up slightly. You felt your heart skip a beat, and Kol’s mouth turned up slightly when he heard it. You knew you just proved his point, but you refused to concede. 

“I wouldn’t care,” you whispered, holding his gaze. 

“So, when I do this,” Kol leaned up, kissing your cheek, his lips burning your skin. He kissed right under your jaw, finally on your pulse point. “…it doesn’t matter?” 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself. “It doesn’t matter,” you choke out, but all you’re doing is spurring Kol on. You’re a hare caught in his trap, and you can’t even find it in yourself to hate it. Kol sucks on your pulse point, nipping lightly and moving down your neck, one hand coming up to tilt your head more to the side for easier access. His touch was shockingly gentle as if he was giving you an out. Your will was thinning by the minute, though, and eventually, you grabbed his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Darling—” he starts, but you cut him off by kissing his lips, soft but passionate. For once, you’ve taken him off guard, and a sense of pride spurs through you as you part, kissing the corner of his mouth and looking at him through thick lashes. 

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice breathy. “For you…” You’re not sure exactly what you’re asking, but you know there’s a line you’ve crossed that you can’t return from. Kol’s thumb brushes your cheek, so gentle from the reckless, hotheaded vampire you are acquainted with. A grin crosses his face. 

“It means everything,” he smiles, kissing you again, fingers tangling in your hair. Your hands find his arms, sighing as he deepens the kiss. You’re on fire, every single part of you, and you’re sure that Kol can feel your racing heart and hot skin. You like kissing him, though, and you realize you like him a lot. 

“Kol?” you breathe. “Don’t sleep on the futon.”

“For you? I would never,” he grins, kissing you again. You make sure to put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door for later. 

…

Afterwards.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you up.

“I guess Nik won’t be able to sleep with you now.”

“Kol.”

“Because I’ll be the only one sleeping with you.”

“Go to sleep.”

There’s a shuffling of blankets as his arm wraps tighter around you, his breath hot on your neck. 

“You’re going to be stuck with me forever,” he whispers. 

You smile. “I’m okay with that.”

taglist:: @rafecameronswhore

[snejkha]

2nd part of the DnD adopts is now up for grabs//

(you dont have to keep the class once you purchase them//)

If you would be interested in getting the Mossfoot heres some info on them// (so please dont change their race/)

If you would be interested in buying them send me a message at snejkhacom@gmail.com. I wont hold them so first come first serve//

Payment is going to be via a Paypal invoice (you will have to send me your paypal email and all).

As always feel free to share this around/ I will update this post once they are bought //

Mossfoot SOLD

Dragonborn SOLD

Aasimar SOLD

Firbolg SOLD

Kobold SOLD

Changeling SOLD

Centaur SOLD

[astrofhobia]

Commissions

I would like to clarify a few things, basically my terms and conditions.

1. I will not start a commission until payment has been made in full.

2. Payments are by PayPal invoices only.

3. There are no refunds once paid.

4. You can ask for any necessary changes when I send the sketch, don't worry, I don't have a limit. But I won't make any changes after that.

5. On average, it will take me a week or a half to deliver your commission.

6. The commission is a digital product.

7. Commissions cannot be used for profit. Only for personal purposes. [Do not sell it in any way.]

8. The final illustration will be sent to your email. This way, the quality will be maintained.

Some examples of my art:

Guys, this is like... a joke? My commissions are NOT open. But I plan to do so very soon. I just want to leave my table and terms now. Do you think the prices are right?

[parisoonic]

have you always wanted to see me draw anything other than the same two characters i always draw? well now's your chance 😼 these are definitely biased towards the images i like to create but if you'd like a comic, a sketchpage of your character or some thumbnails from your favourite fic (etc) - dm me and we can always work something out! 🤘 i can draw ocs, fanart, animals, backgrounds, cars, furries uh anything really. these will be sfw only though!

PROCEDURE: - Message me via Tumblr DM! - Once we've both agreeded on the commission I will send an invoice (in GBP) for the full payment via PayPal - I'll show you a rough sketch so any desired changes can be made early in the process - Image will be finalised and sent to you for approval! - 1 round of edits to the final is included - any further changes may incur a cost dependent on the scope of the changes required - You'll receice the final high rez artwork (png + psd) via email or Dropbox link Thanks! <3

[fazcinatingblog]

My actual conversation: so my Nana picked Collingwood when she was a kid, I'm not sure why, I mean Sophia picked Collingwood because she was born in Collingwood and I think grew up that way and then she stayed with Collingwood her whole life even though her brother always switched teams---- wait oh no why am I talking about Sophia's life, this is meant to be about my Nana and

[soft--dogs]

Ever wanted to be a marketable 90s fad that was doomed to fail? Well now your dreams can come true! For just $30 a character I will draw your fursona or character as a floppy beanie plushie :3 DM me if you're interested in grabbing a slot! I'll send you a quick form to fill out ^w^ Commission rules: - This is for art only! NO physical beanies are being made. - This is not a YCH! Poses may be similar but each one will be unique. - Character designs will be simplified!! - I’ll make it as accurate to your character as I can, but keep in mind these are supposed to be a little silly and wonky. - MUST have ref sheet or image I can work from. - No clothing, naked beanies only. - Accessories (glasses, piercings, etc) CAN be added but please specify! Otherwise they will be NUDE. - Small items/ props can be added for an additional charge! - If there is a certain style of beanie not listed here you want me to draw, feel free to ask if I can do it! I only drew a few examples, but there’s more out there. -  A lot of this is customizable, so if you want different tag color, no tag at all, whiskers/no whiskers, a different species on a certain beanie style, etc, I’m open to ideas!  - Payments through Paypal invoice only. - Turnaround time for these will vary. I’ll be working on them in between my regular commissions. Feel free to edit your commission and use as memes, icons, stickers or whatever! As long as you’re not selling it, you’re good x) Update: I had increase the price on these, they're taking me a lot longer to finish than I expected! I'm averaging about 4-5 hours to complete each beanie. Also I've had a pretty big demand for these, so my queue has gotten pretty long! Expect completion times for new slots to be about 2 months.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 22

part 1 | part 21 | ao3

“…Go ahead,” he relents with a heavy sigh.

He turns the radio back on for background noise, and Robin launches herself into a breathless recap of every minute detail she’s ever learned about Eddie Munson. Genuinely impressive how quickly the words come out; Steve thinks that if her dream of becoming a linguistics researcher ever falls through, she’s got a bright future ahead of her as one of those speedreaders who rattle off the fine print at the end of pharmaceutical ads.

Warning: Discussion of Eddie Munson may cause nausea, heartburn, palpitations, sweaty armpits, and an inconveniently timed half-chub any time you use a pocket knife. Talk to your doctor to see if Discussion of Eddie Munson is right for you!

“Which brings us to tonight,” she’s saying when he zones back in. “Let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Must we?”

“Yes, we must.”

She makes a loose fist, lifting her pointer finger with an aggressive flourish to kick off her ‘list of reasons Eddie has a big, fat crush on you.’ “Fact number one: he was conveniently wearing a super nice outfit.”

“He said he ran out of laundry.”

“And we’re buying that?” she scoffs. Her middle finger springs up to join the first one. “Two: he was so disgustingly up in your personal space. Like, you really should have seen it; it was—”

Mwah. Mwah mwah mwah. “Yeah, I don’t need another demonstration.”

“Three” —there goes her ring finger— “he came to a movie rental store that you just so happen to work at and then left without renting a movie.”

“Because you did something to spook him!”

“Which brings me to my fourth and final point.” Her pinky lifts up to join the team, fingers spread wide like a paper fan, and she telescopes her arm to shove them back and forth under his nose until he goes a little cross-eyed and bitches about her distracting the driver.

“Cut it out! You want me to drive us into someone’s trash cans?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well I’m sending you the invoice when it scratches up the paint.”

She retreats to her side of the car, curling her back against the door and repeating, “My fourth and final point: I think he thinks we’re dating.”

“And? Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“No, everyone wants us to be secretly dating,” she corrects. “But I’m pretty sure Eddie actually thinks I’m your girlfriend. You remember last week when you dropped me off at school?”

He does. Eddie had actually been there early for once; had been sitting on a bench out by the soccer fields, looking surly and half-asleep while he sucked down a cigarette. Hair all messed up by the wind. Looked kind of dangerous. Wild.

“He was, like, fully glaring at me when I walked into school that morning, and then he was super rude to me in band. Which, at the time, I was like, ‘oh, well I guess that’s just Eddie no one can ever tell what his mood’s gonna be like from day to day,’ but noo-o-ow…”

She starts squirming in her seat again, excitement overflowing as she finally cracks the case. “Now it all makes sense! Oh, my god! He totally hates me because he thinks we’re dating, and I’ll bet you anything he either didn’t know we work together or didn’t expect me to be there tonight and he totally, one hundred percent was there to flirt with you because he’s in lo—”

“Okay, Detective,” he cuts her off, because the tips of his ears are burning, and he doesn’t think he can handle her saying the L word out loud right now. “You’ve made your point, thank you.”

“Tell me I’m right.”

“Uh, no.”

“Come on.” She jabs at his side. “Tell me I’m right tell me I’m right tell me I’m—”

“—A fucking menace? Gladly.”

“Translation: I’m right and you’re mad about it,” she smirks, victorious.

Steve knocks his forehead against the wheel as he pulls up to her curb. “Why do I drive you places?”

“Because you love me." She flips her visor down to freshen up her lip balm, mumbling around the chapstick, "I’m adding Surly Best Friendlish to my list of fluencies; I think it'll really make my college applications pop."

"Yuh huh," Steve grumbles. The thought of Robin leaving for college always sits in his gut like raw bread dough — thick and heavy and gross, rising to form a swollen lump in his throat. "Didn't you already submit all of those?"

"Yes, I diiiid," she sings, shimmying her shoulders with pride. "Duke's gonna say yes, I just know it. Picture it with me: Robin L. Buckley," she gestures to an imagined marquee somewhere just beyond the windshield, "class of 1990."

Steve swallows the urge to be a sulky dick about it. "They'd be lucky to have you," he says quietly.

"Nope. No no, none of that. No moping." She tugs at his arm; links their elbows together. "You're not allowed to mope when we have a party to get ready for."

"No, you have a party to get ready for. I'm going home."

"Steeeve-uh!" Holy shit. He just had to be soulmates with the whiniest lesbian in a 500 mile radius, didn't he? "Come to the bonfire party with me!"

"Yeah, that's a no."

“It’ll be fun!"

It most certainly will not be. "You really want me to go freeze my ass off in the woods all night while a bunch of former classmates talk shit about me the second they think I'm out of earshot?" He's been to enough of his parents' 'networking events' over the years to know exactly how that'll go. A full night of subtly closed-off body language, smirking whispers and judgmental glances that dart away as soon as he meets them head on. Fuck that. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

He just wants to go home. Feels momentarily sick with the desire to drive himself to Loch Nora.

"What did I say about moping?" Robin asks. She shoves into his space, hugging his arm tighter and deploying her most lethal sad wet kitten face (and Steve doesn't even like cats; this shouldn't fucking work on him.) "Pleeeease," she begs. "Vickie's going to be there, and I could really use a friend."

"So ask a friend!"

"I am, dipshit!"

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Goddamn this woman. Steve hangs his chin to his chest in defeat, notices the weird stain he got on his shirt during work. "I have some conditions," he concedes.

She throws her arms out wide. "Condition me, baby!"

"First— ew. Okay, I don't like that; don't call me baby." Yeesh, and furthermore, yuck. "First, I'm borrowing one of your shirts, and you're probably never getting it back."

"Understandable,” she nods as she gets out of the car. Steve follows her out, propping his elbows on the roof.

"Secondly,” he continues, “I'm getting very drunk at this stupid party, and you're figuring out how we get home."

She reaches out over the top of the car; gives his hand a quick squeeze when he puts it in hers. "That's three things," she says fondly, "but I can work with that."

—

part 23

tag list part 1 below the cut; comment if you'd like to be added tomorrow (not tagging ageless or under 21s unless we're mutuals or you let me know your age ✌️)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @questionablequeeries @runninriot @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutabed @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy

[annebd]

this is not!fic. it’s just been bouncing around my head for a while now and i needed to get it out.

daniel is a professional trip sitter. he’s officially a licensed psychotherapist, but that’s more of a side effect of the trip sitting. he kind of fell into it by accident. he had a couple of friends who got into some seriously bad shit when they were younger, and he told them that whenever they were going to partake in anything, they needed to call him so that he could make sure they were okay. they did, and he was really good at keeping them safe and keeping the vibes chill. word got around, and eventually he was trip sitting for friends of friends of friends and it became an actual thing. he got the therapy degree mostly just to make the whole thing seem more legit.

max is max. but he’s max without daniel’s influence to temper and even him out. so he’s max, but pointier. it’s the second summer break of 2024, he’s fighting for his fucking life out on track, the team is doing nothing to help him win this wdc, the media is hounding him constantly, and he’s fraying at the edges. he’s lashing out and has no idea how he’s gonna get through the next two triple headers to finish the season.

maybe rupert is the one who takes him aside one day and hands him a business card and is like “if anyone asks, i will deny this with my dying breath, but you need to calm the fuck down. please call this guy. he will help you.”

or maybe it’s martijn. they’re on a facetime and martijn is like “motherfucker, we aren’t even on the same continent and you’re stressing ME out with how high strung you are. please sort your shit out. i know a guy who knows a guy. i’ll send you his contacts. please call him. for the sake of my sanity.”

or maybe it’s both of them. and when max finally gets around to looking at the details that they gave him, he realizes that it’s the same guy. and he figures that if both rupert and martijn have independently heard of him, maybe there’s something to it.

so he calls and speaks to someone who sounds very perky and very australian and schedules a time to meet so that they can talk about the plan and stuff

they meet. something something something. the maxiel of it all.

daniel is a professional and takes his job super seriously so he knows he can’t act on these feelings at all, but omg, this is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen in his entire life. he’s got these broad shoulders and pouty lips and the tiniest waist and the cutest lisp and he’s so grumpy, omg so grumpy, but he laughs at daniel’s dumb jokes and makes his own dumb jokes back

and max is like, immediately and irrevocably in love. end of sentence. but even he realizes that it’s probably not a great idea to try and bone the therapist who’s gonna trip sit for you. he’s not happy about it, but he gets it.

so they set it up and he drinks the tea or whatev and has the floatiest happiest bestest time and daniel is there with him and basically it’s everything he could possibly have wanted. good job, psychedelic mushrooms.

he comes down and feels amazing and thanks daniel and tips him entirely too much when he gets the invoice two days later and puts his head down to finish out the season

he wins

six months later, he’s back in LA and he calls the number on the back of the card and asks daniel if he wants to go out for a cup of tea. without the shrooms this time. <3