#that's the first time I've been able to chime in without several other people also answering so that felt good

[likegemstone]

Reading Anxiety

The past several years, I haven't been able to pick up a book or even walk into a bookstore without feeling anxious. And it has had such a huge impact on me because for most of my life reading was one of the main sources of magic in my life. Reading filled me with so much magic, excitement, and creative energy that I was bursting with not only ideas to write about but also the desire to write almost all the time.

And it took me many years to realize that's exactly what was causing my anxiety. As sources of magic go, reading came second only to writing. I've always said that when I'm in that flow state with writing and the words are just pouring out of me and I lose all awareness of the passing of time, that's when I feel pure magic. That's when I feel closest to God, if you want to put it in those terms.

But as my depression and my anxiety disorder became these all-consuming beasts that I had no idea how to befriend in my late teens to mid-twenties, that magic started to feel so painful. It's a profoundly vulnerable state to be in when you are pouring 100% of yourself into your art. There are all these huge, wild emotions—positive, but also negative. And since I didn't know how to process them, they felt bottomless. Like if I let myself slip beneath the surface, I'd be sinking forever.

So it was safer just to never leave the shore in the first place.

But reading made me want to leave the shore. It made me remember how much fun it was to swim and wonder what kind of magic there was to be found in the depths.

My anxiety remembered how dangerous magic was, however. And it could be very persuasive in keeping me out of the water. Listing all the things that could go wrong, comparing whatever I was reading to my own writing in a way that made me feel like I either had to judge other writers or myself, reminding me of all the times I hadn't been good enough, and how all these people had gotten published when I hadn't. But I don't want to demonize my anxiety for trying to protect me, clumsy and misguided as those attempts may have been.

Anyway. I went to therapy, I made progress learning how to validate and process my emotions, and I learned: those big, terrifying feelings aren't bottomless. And they won't kill me.

It has been slow going in coming out of this reading anxiety—it still chimes in, but its warnings are gentler, and it has learned to trust my swimming ability. If I reassure it, it will usually calm down.

AND LAST WEEK. I read a book! Not just a book, but a fantasy book with many similar themes and ideas to what I write, which has become the most difficult for me to read. But I loved reading it, and it made me so inspired and creatively energized, and only a little bit anxious! (It was Uprooted by Naomi Novik btw)

It's another of the little things that are proof that I'm healing and making progress. Slow progress, bit by bit, but it's happening. ☺️

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

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[thechekhov]

Hi Chekhov! Really enjoying your white diamond au! I had a quick art question: How do you start comissions? I've been improving my drawing skills and thinking about drawing for others after having fun in artfight, but I don't know where to start? How much to charge, how to get paid, etc. Do you have any tips? Hope you're doing well! :)

Alright, since a few people have asked, I’ve decided to put together a few things about how to get started on commissions - what you need, what you should make, and how to keep things organized. 

This will get a little long, so I’ll divide it into 4 main sections:

1) Draw Art - Getting started

2) Get Commissioned - Making a commission sheet, Advertising

3) ??? - Communicating, Setting Limits, Running the Business

4) Profit - Pricing Yourself and Getting Paid

* Disclaimer: I’m an artist, so this How-To will be illustration-focused. I’m sure many of these tips can apply to ANY types of commissions, but I will be focusing on the type I know best. If you are proficient in other types of commissions for other types of art - music commissions, photography, etc - feel free to chime in and leave a comment or make your own tutorial!

1) Draw Art

I think this is probably the most obvious part, but it needs to be said:

Before you start making art for other people, you must first be comfortable making art in general.

I’m not saying your art has to be Disney-quality, or industry-level! Not at all. 

BUT! You must be comfortable creating what you sell. If you try to sell something you have little confidence in, you will stress yourself out and possibly end up losing time AND money.

Don’t shoot for the moon if you haven’t landed on it even once. Sell what you know you’re good at. Your commissions don’t HAVE to include full-body illustrations if you don’t know how to draw feet/solid stances. Limit yourself to what you can do.

Things you need to should probably have before starting commissions:

1. Access to art materials or a fully downloaded art program

DO NOT - Use a free tutorial version that will expire in a month and leave you without a way to draw! If you are having trouble finding a program, try free ones like MediBang Paint Pro. 

2. Free time to complete the amount of commissions you want to take.

DO NOT - Take on or offer commissions if you KNOW you’re going to be overwhelmed with school or personal life for the next 2+ months. Pace yourself, otherwise you’ll burn out, get stressed, and get discouraged.

3. A reliable way to communicate with your customers like a commissions-only email 

DO NOT - Use your friend/family/college email. It’s hard to keep track of things as it is, and creating new emails is easy and free. And keep it professional if you can! Not many people will reach out to dong-wiggles20434 to ask for a design. Ideally, your email should be close to your brand - however you want to brand yourself. Usernames are fine!)

DO NOT - Use Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr to collect commission info unless you are ready to do the organizing yourself. Some people make it work, but in my experience, if you use these SNS sites to communicate with friends and network... you’re going to be losing commission inquiries right and left and accidentally ignoring people. Email is much easier to organize and sort into folders.

4. A portfolio or at least 2-3 pieces of each type of art you’re planning to sell. 

DO NOT - Advertise commissions without having any examples of the art you plan to sell. People will find it difficult to trust you if you can’t even give them a vague idea of what sort of drawing they’ll be getting. 

Disclaimer: These are not hard ‘do not’s. If you have had a different experience, I respect that. I’m simplifying for the sake of streamlining this advice. 

.

2) Get Commissioned

So - you have your art, you have your art program, and you’ve got all the time in the world. That means.... that’s right! It’s time to let the world know you’re taking commissions.

One of the most common ways artists signal to their audience that they can do commissions is by creating a commissions sheet. There are MANY ways to make this - and they range from simple and doodly ones to VERY complex designs. For example, here’s mine! 

There are many ways to organize a commission sheet. At its core, a commission sheet should display the types of art you WANT to be commissioned to make. Let’s go over a few ways they can be done!

#1.... Body Portion Dividers!

This sheet is most common with those who want to capitalize on drawing people and characters. If you want to draw lots of characters, this is a great way to offer several tiers of pricing based on how much of their character your customers want to see. 

#2... Complexity Scale

If you’re open to drawing many things but want to base your pricing off of how complex something is, you can split your tiers into done-ness. This type of commission is popular with those that draw characters AND animals, furries, etc.

#3....  Style and Type

If you’re more on the design side of things, or if you have various niche art styles that you can’t quite lump together, display a variety of your skills alongside each other! It helps if all the ones you have can be organized under a common customer - like those looking to advance their own business and get logos, websites, or mascots made for them!

.

3) ???

You got your first commission... what happens now???

Well, ideally you have the time, tools and motivation to make things happen! Now all you have to do is... sit down and... draw.......

I’m going to say something that may be a little controversial: 

Commissions aren’t fun. 

No, no, hear me out: I have fun doing commissions! I genuinely enjoy drawing characters and coming up with designs. But even with all that said, commissions are, first and foremost: WORK

I’m not saying this to discourage you, I’m saying this to keep things realistic. When I first began commissions, I thought it would be just like any other type of drawing. I would sit down, imagine a thing, draw it... it would be fun! 

But then I realized that I couldn’t just draw what I wanted - another person had an idea in mind and had asked me to do it. I stressed over getting the design correct from descriptions. I stressed over not having the right reference for the pose the commissioner wanted. I stressed over not being able to draw the leg right in the way I had promised I would do. I stressed about billing. I stressed about digital money transfers. It was difficult, and time-consuming, and I did not enjoy it. At all. 

And a part of that is definitely on the commissioner - we, as artists, NEED to demand proper references or descriptions. We, as artists, NEED to limit the amount of changes we’re going to make at the flick of a finger. We NEED to demand clear instructions and set boundaries. That’s also super important. 

But also - don’t be discouraged if you find yourself exhausted drawing your first commission. MANY artists go through this. Adjust your rules, fix up your limits, practice putting your foot down on finicky commissioners who expect you to read their mind! It does get easier, but you have to communicate and put in the effort and act as your own manager AND your own customer service AND your own accountant. That’s what you’re looking at. 

Good limits and boundaries to set: 

Limit the amount of changes a person can ask to make. “I want blue hair.” Next email: “No wait, yeah, make it red.” Next email: “Actually I changed my mind, can I get the blue but like, lighter?” Next email: “No, not that light.” ... At some point, we have to stop. I personally allow 2-3 changes on the final stages of a commission before I start refusing or start asking for extra money.

Demand clear instructions and/or references. If something isn’t described, you have to take artistic liberty and design it, but that’s difficult! And if the customer is not happy with it but can’t tell you more? That’s not your problem - the burden of reference is on THEM. You cannot read their mind, and that’s not your fault.

Get at least half the payment up front! This is a good balance between the ‘pay before art’ and the ‘pay after art’ conundrum that will limit the amount of woes between artist and customer. (I’ll touch upon this a little more in the Profit section.)

Organization:

Where possible, create good habits! Tag your emails and organize your folders. I have a tag on my emails for active and finished commissions. I also keep my emails on Unread until I have time to sit down and properly look at/reply to them.

My Commissions in the folder are also organized chronologically and I mark down which ones are paid and which ones are not.

(I understand not everyone can do this, but if you want to give it a try, it does make things easier in the long run. Again, this advice is just what I have found personally helps.)

One last thing - I do not want to shame ANYONE for taking their time with commissions! Commissions are complex, and they take time and work. You can draw in 8 hours, but some things take research, materials, etc. Some illustrations realistically take up to half a year, or, depending on what’s involved, several years!!

THAT BEING SAID - it’s good manners to be upfront with your customers about how long you expect the commission to take. If you think you’re busy, just say that! Explain that you have a lot going on, and you will probably take (insert time period here).

And if your commissioners are worried, work out a system to keep them updated! I send my commissioners updates when I finish the lineart/flat colors/etc and I try to be clear about how long everything will take. I try to estimate with a +3-5 days buffer to give myself extra time... and recently I’ve been using it. Always say a bigger number than you think you’ll need. 

If someone wants a rushed commission... make them pay more. If ANYONE wants a commission done ‘by the end of the week’ - that’s an automatic rush-job for me because I’m juggling an irl job and several commissions at once. I WILL charge a rush fee and I won’t feel bad about it. 

If someone wants a commission within 24 hours...... Well, they better be paying you 3x your normal amount, or more. And remember - you CAN refuse! It’s perfectly reasonable to say ‘No, sorry, that sort of turnaround time is not realistic for me.’

Food For Thought - Invoicing

Many artists I’ve commissioned in the past have not used Invoicing, but I’ve recently begun to fill out invoices and file them in my Commissions folder just to keep track of things. It’s not necessary until you start getting into the Small Business side of Freelancing, but it’s not a bad idea to get into the habit early in case you might need to do it later for tax purposes. 

Here’s what my Invoice looks like, for example. 

I’ve optimized it to help me remember who, what, and how much is involved! It also contains important info for my customers like where to send the money.

Which brings us to...

.

4) Profit

One of the hardest things for artists is pricing themselves. I’m not going to tell you which way is BEST - there is no BEST way, only the best way for YOU. 

One of the options available to you is pricing by the hour. It includes averaging out how long it takes you to draw a specific type of art (whatever you’re offering as a commission) and multiplying that by an hourly wage you’ve decided on.

When you do this, I stress - do NOT price yourself below minimum wage if you can help it. When you first start out, aim for the $15/hour mark and adjust accordingly. 

Other ways to price your art:

- Per complexity: Portraits vs full body should be scaled based on how difficult you find one vs. the other. You can also easily decide on a price for a sketch and double it for lineart, triple it for full color, etc.

- Per type: Look up for industry prices for website design and logo design. They may surprise you! You don’t have to charge that much, but it helps to keep things in perspective. 

It’s okay to change your prices! Keep your commission sheet image handy so you can update the amounts as you grow. :)

Payment up front or after completion?

Some artist take full payment up front. Some only demand payment after they’ve finished and sent out the piece. I personally think these are both risky for everyone involved. 

I recommend doing at least HALF of the payment BEFORE you start the commission. Calculate your full price and ask for half before you start working on it in earnest, to make sure the person can actually pay you. Then, when they receive the full piece and are satisfied, they can complete the payment. 

I personally work in this structure:

> Someone emails me with their idea/reference

> I send back a rough draft sketch that shows the idea/pose (only takes me 10-20 minutes so not a huge loss if they ghost) and quote them a price

> They can pay the full thing upfront OR pay half

> I finish the commission and send updates when I do the lineart/colors to double check anything so they have multiple chances to spot any errors

> If the person paid only half on completion, I send them a low-res version of the finished thing, they finish up their payment and THEN I send them the full-res version plus any other filetypes/CYMK proofs, etc. 

Many of the people who commission me pay me up front even though I offer they pay half - and I’m really flattered that they trust me that much! Because of that, I feel encouraged to update them frequently and ask for their input as I work, so they have the peace of mind knowing I’m actually doing their commission. 

Great, but how do I get PAID????

There are NUMEROUS ways - these days money is relatively easy to transfer over digital means, and you have a few options. 

Paypal is perhaps one of the oldest digital wallets and is geared towards businesses. By setting up a PayPal and connecting it to your debit card of bank account, you can tunnel a pathway from your online business directly into your hands in a matter of days. 

Paypal also offers Invoicing - you make an invoice, price it and send it to the person’s email and they can pay whatever way they need! (It also allows partial payments.)

Pros: transfers from PayPal to bank account are free, and take a couple of business days. It also has no upper limit to the amount of money you can move in/out each month. It can force refunds due to the nature of its business-oriented payment system.

Cons: Because it’s used by businesses for larger transactions, PayPal may demand a more rigorous proof of your identity. It may also take longer to set up and be harder to get used to. I’ve also heard that they can be a hassle when it comes to closing your account. 

Venmo is another type of digital wallet that acts much like paypal, except for a few key differences - it is NOT made for businesses (so depending on whether you’re officially registered as a freelancer, you may not be able to use it). I personally don’t use venmo, so I cannot speak to its usefulness, but I know a few people that use it for casual transactions. It’s easy and quick! :) 

Keep in mind that you cannot force a refund over venmo! The transactions are final.

There’s also CashApp, GooglePay (which could load gift cards but also allows peer-to-peer transactions) and I’ve heard good things about Due, though I’ve never personally used it.

Other ways to pay: I’ve had people pay me over Patreon by upping their pledge, and I’ve had people pay me over Ko-Fi by donating a specific amount. 

Many people even use Etsy - the website specialized for independent small businesses selling art - by listing their commission sheet and offering up several ‘slots’ of commissions, which allows you to track taxes AND allows your clients to pay using whatever they feel comfortable with.

If you’re in Canada, you can even pay by emailing money directly from bank account to bank account - check whether your country offers this type of service! There’s no shortage of ways to move money in the digital world.

Just like everything else, there’s no singular ‘Best’ way. It just depends on what works for you.

I think that just about wraps it up! I can’t quite think of what else to put here - but I’m sure other artists will chime in with their own advice. :) I’m very sorry this became so long but I hope it was helpful! 

Obligatory Disclaimer: I’m not qualified to give legal or accounting counsel. Please double-check the laws in your own country/state in regards to taxation of freelancing work and do your own research. If you are underage, DEFINITELY get an adult’s permission before you start doing commissions, and have the adult help you through the process.   

. . . . . . . . . . . . 

OTHER POSTS YOU MAY FIND USEFUL:

An Extended Post on Pricing Yourself for Commissions

Dealing with Imposter Syndrome/Feeling ‘Not Good Enough’

Growing Your Audience

Advice for Starting Digital Art

[burnedbyshoto]

Hi! I love your writings and I've never requested a story of any kind,i couldn't find any rules in your feed sorry in advance but i wanted to ask if you could write about bakugo,midoriya or kirishima(you can choose) for a prom au based on how the reader gets dumped by her first date and is left "crying in her prom dress" :')

it’s a prom!au bitcheS

warnings: fluff, cursing

a/n: lets goooo i loved this so much more when i was writing this!!! also my first time,,, writing for two of these characters so idk how well i did, but i tried LMAO

Bakugo Katsuki

Bakugou is already entirely annoyed. 

First of all, he found dances to be stupid. Gross sweating people everywhere, too loud music, people terribly dancing, and on top of everything else when he sweated excessively he wasn’t “allowed to use his quirk”? So how was this bullshit going to be fun for him?

But he wasn’t one to go back on his word either, he had promised Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes that he was going to go after they wouldn’t shut the hell up about him not attending. To be honest, the major reason he didn’t want to attend was because of y/n. She was going to this dance with someone else, some irrelevant extra from the business class that Bakugou didn’t know existed until y/n showed him a picture of him.

“He looks like some fucking douchebag,” Bakugou grunts as y/n takes her phone back from his hands, a laugh escaping her lips. It wasn’t her typical pretty laugh, it sounded almost hurt and Bakugou sighed rubbing his temples, this stupid girl was going to give him an aneurysm. “But I guess if you think he’s fucking decent, whatever.”

“You won’t be jealous?” Y/n teases as she flops onto his bed, her hair blanketing around her like some halo, and Bakugou just hates the way his heart jumps at the sight.

“You fucking wish I was.” Bakugou scoffs, “And don’t you dare mess up my fucking bed, dumbass.”

The words, however, are too soft, and y/n sees through the demure and pats the bedside next to her, “Don’t worry, baka, I’ll save a dance for you.”

“I never said I fucking wanted to dance with you!”

The laughter that leaves y/n lips makes Bakugou blush the tiniest amount as he sits stiffly on his bed as she continues talking about the extra details of the prom dance and Bakugou soon finds himself regretting not asking her out sooner.

So as Bakugou reaches the auditorium, he sends a quick text message to y/n:

I’m expecting a dance.

Perfect, Bakugou thinks as he repockets his phone it was the perfect amount of flirting and hears the annoying ding of your phone when you get a text message, and he freezes, “Y/n/n?” He barks into the night and is surprised to hear a suppressed sob coming from the opposite wall of stairs he didn’t walk by. But Bakugou knows that phone chime and the voice all too well and immediately storms over there, why the hell was y/n crying?

There y/n sits, on the middle stair, mascara running down her cheeks as her magical ballgown is poofed around her. She wipes away at the tears running down her face, effectively ruining the makeup on her face even more. “Why the hell are you crying?” Bakugou asks genuinely confused, not that his tone effectively presented that.

“Oh, you know…” Y/n sniffles as she attempts to smile, but fails miserably, “I got dumped by my date, not that I really li-liked him. It was just so… so em-embarrassing.” The words seem weak and altogether embarrassed, but it just pisses off Bakugou to no end.

“You’re telling me, that fucking douchebag prick dumped you on prom night? And didn’t fucking care that you are here crying like some fat baby?!” Bakugou hisses, the anger multiplying at an extremely insane amount. “Who the fuck does he think–” Bakugou is already storming in towards the building, but is stopped by y/n rising to her feet and pulling on his arm.

“It’s okay, Baku–”

“I think the fuCK NOT!” Bakugou roars back.

“I just want to enjoy the rest of tonight, please. I don’t need him to make it a memorable night!” She pleads and Bakugou hesitates, his eyes on his crush who despite looking like a wreck makes him want to follow her course of action. 

“On one condition,” Bakugou grumbles and y/n nods her head quickly, “You replace your shitty date with me.”

The smile that comes on her face is something that Bakugou is still ashamed to admit made him fully blush.

bonus!

“HEY DOUCHEBAG PRICK FACE!” Bakugou yells over the thumping music as he notices your old date standing in the corner as he swings you around while the two of you dance, something that you weirdly were really good at together. “WATCH WHAT YOU’RE MISSING, ASSHOLE!”

Entirely way too pumped on the adrenaline of dancing in front of his classmates, having you in his arms, and having so far actually enjoyed the night Bakugou slams lips against yours, his hands gripping your cheeks as he lays one on you. And the two of you melt into this kiss, as his lips drag deliciously over your own as you eagerly return the passion despite your burning cheeks.

When Bakugou pulls away, he proceeds to flip off your old date without looking his way at all, and you can hear the distant shrieks of your classmates, “Are you going to kiss me again?” You can’t help yourself from asking as Bakugou sort of just stares at you.

His lips back on yours easily answer that question.

Midoriya Izuku

You were best friends with Midoriya, a title that you hated by the way because you were in love with the hero-in-training. As a student from general studies, your relationship was often a bit on edge given that most of your classmates hated the hero studies class. But you digressed.

By popular demand, U.A. was bringing an end of the school year dance as a new tradition, something similar to what Americans had as prom. You had hinted multiple times for Midoriya to ask you to the dance, but he never did, so instead you had agreed to go with a classmate of yours that you knew liked you.

So on the big night, Midoriya had gone off and told you that he was going to get there early to help set up because he thought he would be able to use his quirk for set up, and that was important training or something of the sort. You, however, stayed in your dorm room, sitting prettily in your prom dress waiting for your date to show up. Your eyes glancing over at the clock on your phone and saw the dance was going to start anytime soon, but still, no date.

It was soon an hour into the dance and you had hot tears rolling down your face as you realized just what was happening. You had been stood up.

You didn’t exactly know how to feel, it wasn’t as if you were expecting to fall in love with this boy at the end of the night, but it sure didn’t feel nice to be abandoned. So, gathering up your depressed emotions, you wiped away your runny makeup and stood up, ready to go to this dance alone.

Okay with your appearance, you opened the door, your eyes focusing on the hand that was centimeters away from knocking on your face.

“Midoriya-kun?” You squeak as the hand is ripped away from your face, the curly-haired boy profusely apologizing as he took several steps back.

“Y/l/n-chan!” He cries from against the hallway, “I just saw that you weren’t there, but that your date was, and well, I went to go ask him where you were because I had requested your favorite song to play. But you weren’t there. Your date told me that you weren’t interested in him so you didn’t go, but you were so excited last night that it just seemed wrong, so of course, I came to check on you because it’s–why are you crying?”

Tears are now flowing down your face and it managed to stop Midoriya’s rambling as he was now by your side, wiping away your tears, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, y/l/n-chan.”

A garbled laugh escapes your lips as Midoriya quickly works to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined, “He stood me-me up,” You cry as Midoriya envelopes you in a hug, and there the two of you stand in formal outfits until your sobs turn into hiccups. “I’m not even mad about it, but I was just so embarrassed because I know he has a crush on me… does that mean I can’t even get the guys who like me to like me?” You ramble into Midoriya’s shoulder as his comforting touches rub your back gently.

“Are American dances this dramatic?” You can’t help but ask as a laugh escapes Midoriya’s lips.

“Considering every high school rom-com of theirs ends with a dramatic prom experience, I’m going to say yes.” Midoriya teases as he breaks the hug and wipes tears off your cheeks again. “But, this can’t be the end of the night for you, I won’t allow it!”

“I never said I wasn’t going!”

“Good, because from here on out, we’ll be each other’s dates, and we’ll have so much fun!”

Your breath hitches when Midoriya goes to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you flush as he grabs you by the hand and the two of you are now racing to get to the dance.

bonus!

You swayed in Midoriya’s arms, the two of you slow dancing to the slow version of Latch by Sam Smith, an English song that you found to be romantic.

You pressed your cheek against Midoriya’s neck, his left hand in yours, and his right one holding you close. A smile was permanently fixed on your face as Midoriya had taken it upon himself to sing every song that was played, even when he didn’t know a single word.

The English that escaped his lips were choppy, heavily accented, and tone-deaf but you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with every passing second. You only hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell as you were pressed up against him.

“I forgot to tell you something earlier,” Midoriya says as the words are getting too hard for him to improvise.

“That you’re leaving the hero industry to pursue a life as a recording artist?” You tease him as laughs escaping the both of you.

“I would be pretty amazing, but no, sadly that’s not it.” Midoriya pulls away slowly, and you whine a bit from the lack of contact, but come to stare into his eyes. “I j-just wanted to say you look, well um, you look beautiful tonight.”

Maybe it was because he had been holding you close all night, or maybe it was the spark in the air because of it being a dance, or maybe it was because you could no longer keep your feelings to yourself, but you leaned towards Midoriya and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, handsome.” You whisper as you return to your old position, and you flushed hearing the roaring heartbeat of Midoriya in your ear as the two of you continued to dance.

Kirishima Eijirou

You tipped the glass of punch into your mouth, staring at the dance floor with immense irritation. You had been asked to prom and had been enjoying the night with the said date until he had abandoned you for some other girl. It wasn’t that it was a big deal, but you just believed there was no point of being asked just to be abandoned.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” A voice asks from behind you, and you choke on your drink momentarily as you turn around to see your classmate Kirishima standing behind you, two cups of punch in his hand, and a curious expression on his face. “I saw y/dates/n over there? Did he make you get your own drink, that’s pretty unmanly of him.”

“Psh, I wish it was just that.” You say as you roll your eyes as you see your date now grinding with the said girl he left you for.

“Is that allowed?!” Kirishima gasps as he sees the same dance moves happening that you see as well. “That can’t be allowed!”

It shouldn’t bother you, you know that, but seeing that you couldn’t even enjoy your prom because of your date, angry tears well up in your eyes. “Well, y/l/n, I don’t know about you but–are you okay?” Kirishima jumps as he sees the tears now rolling down your face as you wipe them away pathetically.

“My date dumped me.” You bitterly admit as you turn away from Kirishima, not wanting to let him see you cry. “He asked me out by the way.” You add the last part in an attempt to make it seem like you were still the winning person there, although you were the one now crying by the sideline like some reject.

Well, in all fairness you were one.

“Did you want to dance?” Kirishima asks you, and you tense.

Kirishima and you were classmates, and yeah you were friends, but you never thought you were close enough for him to be asking you to dance. You turn around and look at Kirishima who is placing the two cups of punch back onto the table, “I was getting Sero and Kaminari punch because they’re in the middle of the floor having a break dancing competition against Mina and Shouji.”

You blink away the tears in your eyes at that detail, and you look towards where your friends are very involved in a break dancing competition. “That explains the chanting and crowds.” You mutter, but you remember his offer and shake your head, “I don’t want to ruin your night with you catering to my hurt feelings, besides don’t you have a date?”

Kirishima laughs good naturally, a hand on his neck as he shakes his head, “The girl I wanted to ask unfortunately had a date.” And your mouth opens in understanding, but you watch as he offers you his hand. “Come on, dance with me, you look too pretty tonight just to be a wallflower.”

You find yourself blushing, grateful for the dimmed setting, but you didn’t put your hand in his, “I m-mean, if you want to be a wallflower that’s okay, too! I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this!” Kirishima panics and you let out a laugh as you wipe around your eyes hopeful that you didn’t ruin your makeup.

“I’d love to dance, Kirishima.” You say as you take his hand which is now resting by his side, and take him out to the dance floor, a grin on both your faces as you danced in rhythm to the beating music.

Slowly but surely, as the night progresses you find yourself finding Kirishima’s toothy grin, weird dance moves, and terrible jokes sending a fire spreading through your body, especially when he holds you close.

“Thank you for dealing with me tonight,” You whisper as the two of you slow dance, as it was the final dance of the night.

“It was my pleasure,” Kirishima whispers back as his head rests gently on yours. “Can-can I confess something?”

You hum softly, teasing him slightly as you take a while to think it through. “Well, you did put up with me for hours, I guess you can confess something.”

“The girl I wanted to ask out was- it was you,” Kirishima says softly, and you freeze, moving your head from his shoulder and stare at him. “I just couldn’t gather the courage to say something until it was too late, so that was really unmanly of me.”

You rise to your toes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “You just confessed to that right now, so I think it’s still pretty manly of you.”

The two of you stare at each other smiling as the song eventually ends, but even as the night comes to an end, you feel like something between the two of you has just started.

bonus!

“TAKE THIS!” You cackle maniacally as you and Kirishima are throwing eggs up on your old dates balcony. Bakugou had suggested the two of you go seek revenge, and this was the best thing the two of you could think of.

“Watch this, I’m doing it without looking!” Kirishima shouts as he grabs two eggs and closes his eyes and flings the eggs, and they crack onto the windows.

“Amazing!” You laugh as you reveal the now empty carton, “Should we run now?” You whisper as the lights in the room turn on, you’re already gathering the skirt of your dress, preparing to run.

“YES!” Kirishima yells as he scoops you off the ground and takes off running.

The two of you are laughing, breathless, with smiles that seemed to be permanently plastered on your face. Eventually, you two make it back to the dorms, and he places you on your feet, and with the entire mood of the night, you can’t help but press a kiss onto his unknowing lips.

The two of you still completely as you break apart, your cheeks flushed as you can’t believe what you did. “I-I’m sorry!” You stutter as you begin to ramble about how you didn’t wish to ruin anything, but you stop as his hands touch your cheeks gently.

“Please don’t apologize,” Kirishima mumbles as he presses another kiss to your lips and you melt against him instantly.

a/n: hope you guys liked it, and sorry this is a day late, my posting schedule was a bit pushed back!

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 4)

(chapter 4)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairing: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: mentions of prostitution, language, violent deaths, fighting, angst, fluff, + possible nsfw.

previous | next

"So, each of the districts get their own floors. Since you're from two, you get the second floor." Doyoung explains as we step out of the elevator.

As we walk into the apartment, I stare in awe at the glamorous quarters.  There are many giant glass columns and a random display of silver trees and rocks.

"Here is the living room and your rooms are over here. How about you freshen up for dinner?" suggests Doyoung. 

In my room, I am met by a bed with a silky, soft comforter. I make my way into the spacious bathroom and hop into the shower. Inside, there was a panel with hundreds of buttons that regulated water temperature, pressure, and even provided massaging sponges.

After finishing, a heater dried my hair and body completely. I pressed another button and a box began sending electrical currents through my scalp, instantly untangling my hair.

Returning the bedroom in comfortable clothes, I see a strange-looking remote on the bed-side table. Intrigued, I begin pressing random buttons. As a result, the window showcasing the lights and building of the Capitol changes into different sceneries.

First, there was a city street filled with cheerful families walking together. After pressing a different button, a dry and deserted desert appeared on the screen.

Switching it once again, a scene showing several mountains peaking through behind a forest of trees. I felt a pulling-feeling in my chest. My throat also feeling slightly choked-up.

During the holidays, every year Taeyong would take me into the mountains of our district. He would pretend to be my knight in shining armor, while I was the princess in distress.  He'd never tell anyone, but sometimes it was even the other way around.

It's also where he taught me how to hunt and find my own food. How to determine between what is the good food and what is the not so very good food.

It was the only time I remember us ever truly being kids. Not soldiers, just a thirteen and seven year old exploring the big, exciting world together.

Then everything went to shit after Taeyong went to the games.  That year, the Gamemakers had chosen a forest for the terrain. However, it was filled with dangerous wild dogs, wolves, and spiders. The spiders had enhanced speed and were extremely venomous. However, the wild dogs were capable of changing their form and copying the voices of the tributes.

Because of this, the entire Career pack was slaughtered alive. Taeyong was the only one who managed to escape. Wounded and without supplies, a twelve year old boy from District 11 named Dong Sicheng had found and formed a alliance with him. Sicheng had shared all of his supplies and even nursed him back to health.

On the last day, they were approached by the last remaining tribute. Taeyong, spotted him and fired an arrow straight into his heart. As he turned around to check on Sicheng, he was met with the boy clutching a harpoon, longed deep in his chest.

Dong Sicheng slowly died in Taeyong's arms.

After the cannon went off, the Captitol announced over the speakers that Lee Taeyong of District 2 was the winner of the 64th Hunger Games.

No longer did he take me to the mountains. Honestly, we never did anything together. Since then, the closest I ever got to be to him was the one time when the rest of my family stood by him during his stop in District 2 during his press tour.

I've always wondered how he felt. Wondered if  he blames himself for what happened. However, I never wanted to intrude. It's not like I ever got the opportunity to ask him, anyways.

However, since I'm going in the games soon. I hope to eventually work up the courage to sit down and have a real talk with him. The real Taeyong, not the victor or mentor he acts like in front of everyone else.

I opened the door to see Doyoung, Renjun, and Taeyong sitting at the dining room table.

Once I sat down in the acid-green chair, Taeyong began talking, "The plan for tomorrow is the same for the both of you. You go to group training. Spend time practicing something your weakest at. Swing a mace. Throw a spear. Tie a decent knot. It doesn't really matter, just save showing off for the private session with the Gamemakers. Are we clear?"

Renjun and I both nod our heads at him.

"Well, have the two of you gotten to know any of the other tributes yet?" pries an interested Doyoung.

"I haven't. Although, Athena seems to be checking out the competition, already."  Renjun answers, nonchalantly.

"Wonderful!" Doyoung innocently chimed, "It's never too early to start considering possible alliances. Are you going to ask anyone to join the two of you?"

"Oh, we're not-" Renjun and I said at the same time. We're laughing as if he's said the funniest joke in the world.

"We've always maintained our own completely different strategies. Renjun prefers to be the predator. There's no doubt in my mind that if he does want to work with others, it'll end up being an alliance with the other Careers. " Renjun just silently nods in agreement.

"And what about you?" asked Doyoung.

"Let's just say I prefer not to walk around with a huge target on my head. I want to team up with someone well-liked, so we can get resources through sponsors." I explained.

"Like Na Jaemin?" sneers Renjun.

"You know people have been calling him the Prince of Panem. He's made quite the impression, already." Doyoung chimes, "And he's not the only one. People have been raving about you, Athena. They've even started calling you, the Golden Girl."

"That's good." Taeyong quietly adds to the conversion, "If you keep this up you'll get lots of sponsors."

Doyoung suddenly blurts, "In fact, most people think Jaemin and you would make a good couple."

At this remark, Taeyong drops his knife loudly on the table, while Renjun chokes on his drink. My mouth begins opening and closing like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply.

"We're done for tonight. You two should go to bed now." Taeyong orders, not hiding his agitation.

Quickly, we all return to our rooms. I crash on my bed and stare up at ceiling.

Jaemin and I as a couple?

Where did they even dream up that possibility from? I mean, we only had one barely two-minute conversation. People really do amaze me sometimes.

My thoughts are broken by a barely-there knock at my door. I groan and force myself off the bed.

I roll my eyes, before opening the door and saying, "Renjun, would you kindly please fuck off?"

However, the person standing there was definitely not Renjun. I tilt my chin up to see no other than Lee Taeyong, towering over me.

"Oh, sorry." I frown, embarrassed.

"Can I come in?" He politely asks me.

I step to the side and allow him inside. Once he's fully in, I closed the door behind him.

"Finally decided to talk to me, huh?"

He just stays silent, just letting me say whatever I please.

"You know, I thought you'd at least be happy for me. I mean, you of all people should know that this is the best thing that could ever happen to me." The emotions I've been holding in for the past 10 years are finally coming to the surface.

Taeyong looks at me with pity, "Athena, there are some things you don't know. Things that the school or our parents never taught us."

"What are you even talking about?" I pressure.

"After the games, you couldn't see me for a reason." He took a heavy breath, "Sometimes, if a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for money. It’s not just me either, the same thing happened to Finnick Odair a year later."

"What do you mean, 'buy'?" I swallow.

"For sex."

It’s quiet.

"I was given no choice. He said that he would kill both of our parents and even you if I didn't obey." His eyes begin tearing up, "Athena, you don't know how much I wanted to come see you and teach you things."

"Taeyong." I whimper.

I felt sick to my stomach. How could they do that to him? He was just a thirteen year old kid. Even worse, how could I let myself hate and be jealous of him, when all along he was the reason I was still even living?

"I know I'm a horrible brother, but please listen to me when I say the Capitol uses everyone, including you. You have been taught that this, the games, are normal and something to be proud of. You haven't even seen how horrible it is for the lower districts. They can barely make it through one day without starving. They have basically nothing, while the Capitol is feeding off them."

Anger rises up in me. I look around at all the expensive things in the room. Think about the large amount of fancy food I've consumed while in the Capitol. I'm furious, because I've been lied to and tricked. Furious for Taeyong and all the others the Capitol has taken advantage of.

I jump into my brothers arms and completely break down. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said Taeyong. It was stupid. I'm stupid."

"It's okay. You didn’t know." He shushes, while holding me.

“Listen to me. If you-“ he corrects himself, “When you win this thing, I’m not going to let him do anything to you, okay?”

“Taeyong, can I tell you something? I’ve just never got the chance to.” I ask.

He nods.

“What happened to Sicheng wasn’t your fault. You understand that, right?”

He painfully looks down at the floor, before slowly nodding.

“I’m serious, Taeyong. It’s not your fault.”

By the time he looks up, I am able to clearly see him. Underneath the years of pain, hidden away was a vulnerable boy. The tears come falling down his cheeks.

We spend the rest of the night talking about our past, telling stories. Both laughing and crying together.

My brother and I.

[incorrectunrulyprincesses]

Underland’s Unruly Princesses: March of the Witch Hunters (aka the crossover) chapter 4

Rosalind II

It was no secret that Ember hated my father, Ilosovic Stayne the Knave of Hearts. She said he was an ignorant one eyed gorilla who cheated on mother several times with various ladies of the court when she carried me inside her and that's why he lost his eye. I knew better than to ask either of my parents if there was any truth to this. When I was nine, she also claimed that he attempted to spoon her in her bedchamber. I don't know if this is officially true or not, but after that claim, mother made both of us sleep in her bed for about a year, and I didn't see my father at all during that time because he was put on ice in the dungeon.

But once I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere with Auntie Mary and Auntie Sarah, apart from my birthday gifts that is, I knew I had to ask him for help. I got all the attention I wanted from Mother, Ember, my aunties, and mother's old friend and our cook, Mrs. Nellie Lovett, but my father was distant. He was probably busy carrying out Mother's orders. Still, the only time he spent with me was with everyone else, or when he tried to teach me how to spar which mother quickly stopped him from.

"Princesses don't fight with steel." Mummy insisted when she caught me fencing with my father on her croquet lawn and promptly dragged me off by one arm. In hindsight, I think Daddy wanted me to be a boy.

The Resistance made a big deal out of the fact that Mother executed her husband, took several lovers over the course of her reign, and had no "legitimate" children. Ember and I were often referred to as "Royal Bastards." Mummy countered this slander by saying that Ember's father was the resistance leader, Tarrant Hightopp, the Hatter, and that the only reason she killed her husband was that he tried to kill Ember when she was a toddler and pushed him off her balcony. Not only that, but she was also pregnant with me at the time and couldn't keep him around long enough for him to find out that she had another child who wasn't his. Besides, he was a cheating asshole just like my father. Worse than my father in fact because he'd been screwing her own sister!

I wish I looked more like my mother. She and Ember had the same red hair, only Ember's hair was more ginger than red. I had only my mother's porcelain skin, dainty features, long eyelashes, and aching feet, and my father's bright sky blue eyes, but unlike either of them, I was born with an abundance of long, thick, wavy honey-colored tresses falling almost to my knees which was strange at first, but then it was revealed that my maternal grandmother, Queen Elsemere was a blonde, so I guess it wasn't that odd. Like my sister, I had a curvaceous, voluptuous body and had always been rather busty for my age.

As we walked to Daddy's chamber, I thought about my interaction with Auntie Sarah and Auntie Mary. They were quick to praise my singing of Nellie's songs and rewarded me with my birthday presents. Auntie Mary gave me a beautiful cake, six layers high decorated with red buttercream roses with golden leaves. Two layers were chocolate fudge cake filled with cheesecake, two were chocolate chip cookie dough cake filled with cheesecake, and two were red velvet cake filled with cheesecake. The whole thing was frosted in fudge and cream cheese frosting. She told me I was getting too skinny and insisted I eat the whole thing myself before I started singing. Auntie Sarah gave me some a beautiful choker, black velvet ribbon with a golden rose briar pattern embroidered into it, three new gowns, and a red bow made from the same fabric of my mother's favorite gown with a miniature version of mother's scepter as the clasp. I thanked them and asked them where Auntie Winnie was.

"In your mother's study," was Auntie Sarah's reply,

"In the garden," said Auntie Mary at the same time. Then they looked at each other oddly.

"In your mother's study," said Auntie Mary.

"In the garden," said Auntie Sarah.

I knew now that she was neither in the garden or Mummy's study and grew suspicious. Ember's story confirmed these suspicions and I knew we had to send my father out to find the Witch Hunters in our world and arrest them immediately. We would put a bounty on their heads and snuff them out. If not, I could use my baby Jabberwockies that mother gave me when I turned fourteen, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, on them. They were my babies. Drogon was now large enough to ride, but the others could set things on fire and probably burn people alive.

I rapped sharply on door to my father's room with Ember close behind.

"Exactly why are you dragging me to visit your father?" Ember asked me.

"Because he listens to you and not me." I said blankly, stating the obvious and trying to school the twinge of envy from my voice.

"You're his daughter, though," Ember torted. "Not me. Besides, he abandoned you."

"I think you scare him." I smirked. "Why does Mummy even keep him around anyway?"

Ember chuckled lowly. "I haven't a clue, sis. Sometimes I swear Mum forgets why she does things."

"Well either way you get through to him better than I do that's why you're coming with me." I banged on the door again. "DADDY! GET YOUR STUPID FUCKING DEADBEAT ARSE OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!" I yelled.

"Or I'll tell Mummy you sometimes like to wank to pictures of Aunt Mirana!" Ember chimed in an annoying tone. I giggled like a little girl.

Ember laughed as my Father whipped the door open. She had Aunt Winnie's book in the crook of her arm. She had not stopped carrying it around since Mum gave it to her.

"The fuck do you brats want?" he demanded. I stared him down.

"Well, well, well, Stayne, I'd expected you to be thrilled by our appearance," Ember cooed in a sarcastic tone. "I guess I was totally wrong with that assumption." Without even asking, Ember just shoved her way into his room. Giggling, I followed her.

My father's single good eyes followed Ember as she went to the middle of the room and sat in a chair by the hearth. "It's an emergency." I insisted.

Oddly enough, my father sighed, then he crossed the room and sat across from Ember and I. "Considering that I have nothing better to attend to, I guess I will listen to your little pitiful sob story."

"It's the witch hunters. We have reason to believe there are some in our world that will stage an uprising and kill us all. We need you to find them."

My father's face twisted into a disgusted expression. "Witch hunters, you say?" He drew a small knife from his belt and began to wave it around. "What's in it for me?" he demanded of us.

Ember's cheeks began to flush red, and I could tell that Mum's temper was about to take over. "What's in it for you? You ignorant buffoon! If these Witch Hunters are even allowed to execute a single witch, they will begin to destroy the rest of us! Can't you see that we are peculiar compared to those from Above? We are nothing but alien to them. If they infiltrate the different worlds, we are all doomed. Underland and Above will be wiped clean. That includes everyone and everything!"

Ember had the ability to talk very, very fast when she was pissed off, much like Mum. I had always thought that she could easily out-talk anyone when she was about to rage. "If you don't do this for me, your own flesh and blood, do this for yourself!" I snapped.

Ember sprang from her chair. "DO IT FOR YOUR QUEEN!" She hissed stridently. It frightened me a little how angry she was getting. "Do it for the sake of having a woman to stick your dinky little prick into!" I clapped a gloved hand over my mouth in an attempt to stop the laughter that threatened to burst out.

I don't know whether it was the idea of not being able to lay again, or Ember's temper, but my father's jaw dropped. "Yes, your highness. Right away." He stumbled to his feet. He came over to me, dropped a peck on my cheek, dropped a heavy coin purse into my lap.

In one swift motion, he swiped his sword from the rack on the wall, and he began to jog from the room.

I wiped it off, quickly, but shoved the money into my cleavage. I wasn't used to his fake affection, but the money was nice and very much appreciated. Ever since his latest betrayal, Mum demanded he pay child support for my upkeep. About two million pounds sterling a month to be exact.

Ember sniggered next to me. She wrapped her fingers around Aunt Winnie's book and she giggled. "Well, Sis, looks like we got that taken care of."

"We make an excellent team. Remind me never to piss you off like that. Ever."I joked.

"Not to worry, Ros, dear. You shall never know the extent of my true temper." Holding the book to her chest, she rose from her chair. "Now, then, I suggest we go and find Mum."

"She'll be happy to know your favorite person paid his child support on time. How long do you think he'll last out there?" I wondered, walking out with my sister.

She shrugged. "Who knows? Hopefully long enough for us to find Aunt Winifred before the Witch Hunters take her down."

"While we're on the subject, there's something you should know." I confessed. "I've been having these weird nightmares about a black cat loitering around a condemned building in the Above. Do you think it has anything to do with Auntie Winnie?"

Ember stopped dead in her tracks. "That's funny, Ros. I, too, have seen the apparition of a feline, black as coal. I didn't think anything of it at all. You know what this means?" I shook my head.

"We must question Mum," she said flatly. "Even if you leave the talking to me. I think she knows more that she lets onto."

"I'll go with you...for moral support. But I don't want Mum to be mad at me." I said.

"It's decided then. I will do the talking." And with that, she trudged down the corridor. I followed.

[eds-zebra-warrior]

Ehlers Danlos Society Awareness Month (Day 31 Community)

Not all health conditions have what they call a community or a group of others with the same condition coming together as a group to be with, support and help one another. Let's be honest, most conditions don't need a community. There's a lot of conditions that are very cut and dry and easy to understand. There's a group on Facebook for everything but I can tell you right now there's not going to be a ton of people in a Hemorrhoid support group. The EDS group is a very close knit group with much value and importance to those who are part of it and I'll be explaining some of those reasons.

Of course one of the most obvious with having a rare disease is to be able to meet someone like you. To know others exist and to share similar experiences with. You know you can always find someone there that truly understands what you're going through having a condition so disabling you tend to lose most, if not all of your friends, some even lose family. Rather it be due to lack of understanding, lack of belief, fear, or any other list of reasons it seems to happen to all of us. So this is a way to make friends just like us. Friends that won't resent us for the physical abilities we have lost or the lifestyle changes placed on us by this syndrome.

Another reason is well because it's rare. It's surprisingly difficult to find any good information about EDS on the internet when you first get diagnosed unless you know where to look. In addition to this being a condition that lacks studies and research it's also extremely complex. In fact before being diagnosed, even with going to nursing school, I had no idea something this complex existed. If you are ever trying to find reliable information about a specific aspect of EDS it may be really hard to find, especially if the topic you're looking for is very specific. You can go into groups. A lot of individuals have certain documents bookmarked or saved in a word document or spreadsheet and can lead you in the right direction. If we can't find a study done in something we can also use support groups to do our own informal studies. Just simply create a pole and let everyone chime in. Before you know it, if posted in a larger group you'll go check out your pole and may have two or three hundred answers to your question.

Next, with EDS pretty much any body structure is a free game which means lots and lots of comorbidities. A good number of comorbidities are common amongst us which means we always have someone to relate to and ask questions to. In addition to this you can expand your groups to include groups for people with those comorbidities further extending your knowledge and possibility of friends. Most doctors don't know anything about these conditions so that leaves it to us to learn everything there is to know about it. When you finally think you have read everything there is on the web, others read thousands of sites or journals you haven't come across and ones you have read they didn't know existed so it's all about learning together and having people who understand.

Being a condition that is so very painful and severely affects sleep as well as causing many of us great depression and guilt for what we've lost and the deterioration our body has been through as well as the feeling of loss. We feel guilty for everything we put out families through, for needing help, for canceling plans and letting people down. Not only as if what we once were has already passed away but also the loss of friends, many times every single one we had before this illness and sometimes family members. We grieve the loss and are angry to learn that people we thought were our best friends and would never leave disappointed in us like a used paper plate. This is also the time it dawns on us how many of these people used us when we were healthy to provide them with things we need. Most of us have OCD or are on the high functioning side of the Autism Spectrum so tend to take responsibility and do things right, including not letting down our friends and family very seriously. Most of us thrive on routine and rules and chronic illness often gets to a point that a lot of this is no longer possible forcing us to make decisions last minute, change them or cancel them last minute, not be able to complete things by a time we have set for ourselves etc and that's really hard. It's helpful to know others who are or have been going through the same thing and to know you're not alone, not the one letting yourself and others down and to be told it's okay and it's not our fault.

The majority of us also have Medical Trauma Induced Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We spent years of our lives rather you're lucky and got diagnosis in two years or ate 70 and have spent the last 55 years actively seeking a diagnosis we all have to fight for one, to see doctor after doctor and oftentimes the worst part of it all, be miss diagnosed with psychiatric disorders such as anxiety and Conversion Disorders. These are extremely dangerous and life threatening diagnosis for us because it essentially closes the door on even looking for a cause of what is going wrong with us. Conversion Disorder is a Diagnosis given after all other conditions have been ruled out the problem is, doctors use it as a crutch to not have to deal with us. We are also superstars, especially in the beginning at having beautiful results when it comes to basic blood tests such as a CBC. The problem is, again, doctors are known to cut corners because they like the majority of mankind are lazy creatures who tend to want to just get the job done. It doesn't matter if it's thoroughly done and done with utmost care to put as much effort into it as they can, it's just done and to them done is good enough so they do the common tests and call it done, close the book and slap a label of conversion disorder on us that follows us around for life for every other doctor to use as an excuse to say they are done too. It takes years to find a doctor who is in it for the better of the patient; one who is up for a challenge; one who is willing to do more testing and testing that is more advanced and most importantly, a doctor who believes us and is willing to go the extra mile. It's when these less common tests like a Tilt Table Study, Gastric Emptying Study, Urodynamics Testing, Upright MRIs instead of doing them in the prone position, Sweat Testing, a Sitzmark Colon Transit Time Study, a 24 hour urine test to measure histamine levels, skin biopsies and ultimately EDS Testing via either the Brighton score system along with a through study of the body and some questions used to determine a positive or negative diagnosis or Genetic Testing to determine a type of EDS that has a genetic mutation that has been discovered. Not all forms of EDS have had their genetic mutation discovered yet which is why the other study is so important. There are more tests that can be utalkzss than the ones mentioned but as you can see, none of these are tests that are done on a routine basis and a lot of doctors don't want to deal with them slapping the psychological, "all in our head" diagnosis on us prematurely.

This results in us without a diagnosis for what we have going on with our body. When this happens we aren't receiving treatment for the symptoms we are experiencing allowing them to escalate. To make things worse we are often given the wrong treatments, handed antipsychotic medications that cause even more adverse symptoms and don't work. When they don't work the doses are increased higher and higher resulting in more to go wrong with our bodies. This also closes the door to treatment causing doctors and hospitals to dismiss life threatening issues, sending us home when we are actually so sick we should be in the ICU. I myself was declared clinically dead at least 10 times before my diagnosis, four because my heart stopped and I went into cardiac arrest and the rest because my blood pressure would drop below 60/20 which in the medical field is a pressure that is considered legally dead. With all but one of these I was sent home within an hour to a few hours of it happening simply told that was weird and sent home on paperwork for Conversion Disorder, Hypochondriasis, or some other psychosomatic disorder and is I was lucky this would sent me discharging me with a diagnosis of low blood pressure and that was that. One of my codes my mom was in the room, thank God for her. When I code no one came. My mom went running down the hall begging for help pleading for a nurse to help because no one was running to my room. The nurse told her I'm probably faking it and just pulled my leads off and told my mom just to ignore me because people like me feed on attention. My mom ran back to the room and thank God had some medical training as a girl scout leader because she had to take first aid and CPR. My mom brought me back. The nurse walked in right after and checked my wires. They are still in place. My state as well as several others protect their medical personnel against malpractice suits so there was nothing we could do. I've been sent home with gastric ischemia which is a life threatening condition where the blood pressure increases to dangerous levels in the intestines. It can cause the pressures to get so high it bursts and dissects blood vessels in the intestines causing a person to bleed to death. I was sent home with a diagnosis of General Psychosis and Anorexia as well as treated for anemia and vitamin deficiency. They blamed it on anorexia, not the fact I physically couldn't eat and was having bowel movements that were nothing but pure blood that everyone. Refused to look at. I had an allergic reaction so bad it almost killed me and was sent home diagnosed with conversion disorder and sent to my doctor who wanted me in ICU but upon refusal from the hospital to see me again even with my vitals so poor my doctor had to take care of me basically sending me home with what I called a take home hospital and working with my mom over the phone to take care of me available all hours of the night. I had a nurse try to give me 50 times the dose of this same medication that caused this. Been sent home with intestinal blockages, hernias, extreme dehydration, a UTI after they said the results came back negative only to get them in the mail a week later to see they were positive and by that time my UTI was so severe I had a kidney infection and was in kidney failure. I've sat there days and nights in a hospital bed where nurses refuse to answer my call light saying I have a conversion. Disorder, don't need to be there and I'm wasting their time and resources taking up a bed for someone who is really sick and that they won't be coming anymore the rest of the night not knowing I was one of the sickest ones on the ward and just misdiagnosed. I've had nurses rip IVs out of my arm, ya know how they push you to your car when you're released? There are a lot of times they pull my IV, tell me I'm not sick anyway and can do it myself having to take multiple trips to get my personal belongings out of my room. When I lost the ability to walk I had multiple doctors tell me I could and would pick me up, put my feet on the ground and the. Let go of

dropping me on the floor. This happened a lot at OSU with their doctors. Again and again dropping me and seeing I didn't have that natural response to catch myself and went straight into the hard tile floor with my fragile and damaged connective tissue would they say hmm. You really can't walk then send another doctor in who would do the exact same thing. I got picked up and dropped four times by four different neurologists just in the first week of being paralyzed and it's happened time and time again after that at other neurology appointments. I could go on and on. This is the stuff a lot of us go through. It's extremely common with EDS, most of us have complex PTSD.

Most of us have an extreme fear of going to the hospital because that's when we are at our worst and at the same time, a time we get treated worse than anywhere else about our chronic illness. We go in knowing it's a game of Russian Roulette with a really high chance we will be sent home sicker than I came in. Worst of all, there's no way to treat our PTSD because it had to be treated by a doctor, the people we have the least trust in. Not only that but the cruel mistreatment never ends. Every hospital visit. I have had good nurses before but I have never gone to the hospital once where I can say everyone was good. I hear a lot of healthy individuals say endless good things about the hospital staff they had or they have some reason they have to go. When you have a rare invisible illness like EDS we aren't given that same care. The appalling lack of medical care never ends therefore it's impossible to even treat our PTSD. It's not like someone in the military who is in a war and when the war is over, it's done, they never have it go back and can get treatment and start to heal. It's like having to live the rest of their lives in that war as a POW who has been captured and imprisoned by the enemy and every time they get out they are found and imprisoned by another enemy and another enemy and then going to see a psychologist who happens for this only to find out the psychologist is one of those enemies from the other side who captures and holds others line you as POWs yet wants to try to help you get over everything that has happened to you even though you're still occasionally been tending by someone else and beat up before getting away again. Seeing a psychologist for us just doesn't work. We have no trust in the medical field and the gross mistreatment and lack of care is never ending. The EDS community can relate to this when one else can. While the healthy people we know, the people we grew up with, who became nurses and doctors themselves get mad telling us those doctors and nurses are heroes, they can do no wrong. That stuff doesn't happen, they are made up of the most caring and compassionate individuals. Those in our community and other rare or invisible disease communities know that degree of mistreatment all too well. We know the truth about the medical field.

We know they are no different than any other company. Identical to the people making minimum wage in a more trivial position such as a greater at a retail store. There are the good ones who take their job very seriously and want to do their job to the best of their ability truly valuing hard work and are highly motivated individuals but most people at a job are just working because they have to. They have bills but if they were multimillionaires there's no way they would be there now. They want to get the job done and go home. It doesn't matter how they get it done, it's just got to be done. These are quantity over quality people. They take working smarter not harder totally wrong, defining it in their mind as taking any short cut necessary to get it done. Ya know how at most jobs they would have, for example, 50 people but there are three of them that seem to pull all the weight. The three everyone thinks takes things too seriously because they hardly leave their desk or station. They don't take the time to walk around socializing and joking around with their peers. When things get behind they are the ones who stress and work really hard to get things caught up where others say I'm not getting paid any more, I'm not going to bend over backwards and stress about if they aren't paying me more. The three people first to volunteer for overtime and the least to grumble of the boss asks them to stay over another 15 minutes to finish something while on the other days a boss May say that if you get your work done you can go hike and everyone rushed to gst the job done to get out the door while those three are left sitting there at their desks to get the job done right whole also correcting others work that was hastily submitted so they could go home or start the weekend early. Just because someone is in the medical field doesn't make them any different from those who hold other jobs. If most of them won five million dollars they would be out of there. Forget the two weeks notice, heck they don't have to work anymore. Someone else can take their patients. If they're told its slow and they can go home when all the patients are out then one more comes walking in the door as they are packing up their stuff there are a lot if doctors will look to the people who are still working and say hey, I'm about to head out of here, do you mind taking this last Patient? It's human nature.

As generations have gone on more and more people are lazy and the medical field is no exception. When you're chronically ill and have spent a lot of time in the hospital it gets really easy to spot those three people. The ones who if they were multimillionaires may cut back their hours but would never dream of leaving their job because their job means more than money to them. They take great pride in making people better, getting them diagnosed, saving lives and they can't see life another way. Those are the good ones. The good ones line any other job. They are far and few, they pull all of the weight, are walked on by other staff members, their managers usually fail to see their accomplishments as they don't spend a lot of time just hanging out with workers at a patient's expense. They are the ones who will advocate and fight for their patients to all ends but like any other job, maybe five percent or one percent or any other single digit percentage of the employees are these people so EDS patients my get one person on their care team that is amazing, maybe two but will never get a whole care team and it seems like the good ones get more far and few the higher the position. I've had more caring and compassionate house cleaning staff. STNA's, more good STNA's than LPN's, more LPN's seen to be there for the patient then RN's and more RN's. Doctors.

I don't think I've ever had a bad Volunteer at a hospital. The volunteers just love to be there for the patients, to put a smile on their faces and to know they made a difference in our lives. Rather it be to bring us a coloring book and crayons, their Emotional Support Dog around to visit us (which is my favorite) bring us a warm blanket or fill up our water containers. I've had one bring me a card and a flower in a small tube of water. The volunteers are there because they want to be there, not because they have to be there. It seems like the higher the person is on the pay scale the more people are in it for the money. Money talks even if it's at the patient's expense and usually if you have a complicated or invisible illness like EDS you are the expenditure. A community is important to know we aren't alone, to share their experiences, some in the group have become medical advocates and will fight for others in their area who can't get the help they need. These advocates, especially the ones with lots of training are invaluable to the EDS community. They may not be able to fix our problems but it's nice to know there is someone out there who tried. When you're at your worst advocating for yourself is extremely difficult and sometimes impossible and oftentimes our families don't do a lot of research on their own so aren't able to advocate for us so having someone who can is more beneficial than words.

As you can see there are so many different reasons community is important and vital to all of us. Some use it simply as a way to relate or a way to make friends like them after losing the friends they had before their health declined to the extent their healthier friends no longer could relate to them and left. Many are involved in the community to gather information and gain knowledge about their conditions. Support groups are also there to talk, especially with so many who have PTSD. We can't trust a psychologist, psychiatrist or therapist as they are medical professionals and talking to a live person is more fulfilling than writing a journal that no one reads. Sometimes it's as if these individuals, having gone through this themselves, know just want to say and how to help us. Some are there as a medical advocate in their area. Someone who can be there for them in medical situations or even just to give them advice as to what to say to make doctors listen, direct them who to contact if they aren't receiving appropriate care and what to do or ask for from our medical personnel. Some even use these groups to find names of doctors that work with EDS patients or places to go where they may be able to get help or even ideas of what treatments work for others with similar comorbidities. There's even a few groups out there run by people who were medical workers before EDS ravaged their body to an extent that they had to leave the field. It consists of disabled nurses, doctors, radiologists and various specialists. This group works to tell us if we need a second opinion. We can post test results or imaging onto the page and since legally they can't have a diagnosis since they aren't currently working they give what's called a "non expert opinion, telling us what they see or would suspect and if we need to see someone else. I find all of these viral and that's why I see the EDS community as not an invaluable and essential part of my life and wellbeing as an individual with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.