I am horrible at making info graphs but!! These are things I'm open for.. I don't particularly like airing my problems, but my car is on the fritz and i need to pay for the repairs/tow truck.. I'm open for the following-
-Sketch Busts/Thigh up (W/Color ) [Like these here!] (25! +50% for another character)
-Chibis (Single character, couples and small groups!) [Like these here!] (15 for one character 50% for each character, up to four!)
-Sprites (Static pose + Adjustable arms) [Longer turn around.. Static pose starts at 45 and Adjustable arms start at 70! Comes with 5 expressions of your choosing, sweat, blush, anger and some small emojis! Extra fees for extra outfits/arms apply!]
*NEW*
-Oc Designs! (Chibi designs like these!) Starts at 35 and goes up to 75 depending on complexity/specification/outfits wanted! Up to 2 additional outfits per design can be added to initial.. Will need detailed description or many reference images!
Will do- Furry, Humanoid, Anthro, Ship art, Ocs (references needed) Light body horror, Aliens!
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tumblr prank warning: repeatedly clicking the '4' reaction will eventually cause (a cycle of 3 different) audio clips of unsettling/creepy whispering to play on your device
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OPEN STARTER based on THIS wishlist. trigger warnings may apply.
She’s traded one room for another, one keeper for another. In the end, it’s all the same to her. Walls are just walls, and she doesn’t need much. Her notebook, her sketch pads, her easels and canvas, her brushes, her paints. Music is a welcome reprieve from the chaos in her head, though if she isn’t careful, her mind slips into the habits of a lifetime before of creating her own -- and that rarely ends well. They’ve been told it’s easier to just let her have what she wants, her music, and her head phones, her cigarettes and her solitude. It’s easier than the chaos that comes from the nightmares that tear apart the semblance of calm that the structure, routine, and the chemical control create.
She has long since lost any interest in what the pills are that she is given. All she needs to know is if she takes them, the fire in her mind, in her veins, in her skin, it’s less. It’s easier. All she knows is that there’s no more electrodes, no more ice baths, no more needles -- not usually -- there’s no more screaming. There’s a voice. A whisper, in her mind, that recites the mantas that she repeats as the pills slide down her throat. She doesn’t recognize the words. She doesn’t know who the voice belongs to and she doesn’t want to. She knows when she hears it in her dreams, she wakes up screaming.
She’s been told there will be a new voice today. A new face. One that she must listen to, one that she must do as they say, she must tell them the truth and she must tell them what she sees.
She waits, in the nearly empty room that she has been ushered into. Empty, except for three boxes, on a table, in the center of the room. Empty, except for the sketchpad and pencils sat on the table. Waiting for her, she imagined. But she was waiting for something in turn. A voice. The new voice. And so she sat, the tip of her thumb rubbing against the callouses on her fingertips, waiting.
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So I’ve been wondering this for a bit recently as I’ve come back to this blog and that is if people are comfortable with ageredips content on my blog?? I’m totally comfortable with it but I didn’t wanna just start posting about it unwarranted I guess? So uhh
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Hey Tumblr it would be toooootally terrible for this right-wing hotline for hunting down drag shows to get spammed
https://www.defendkidstx.com/
it would be just a disaster if some people were to flood their inboxes with false reports
it would also be toooootally terrible if people were to reblog and share this to have others flood their inbox too
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Symbol for a repressed memory!
memory meme. | @fxrtunas
The day seemed so long ago... when she admitted to her parents that she wanted to leave Sharlayan to become an Adventurer. The disapproving, yet worried look of her mother, the angered, irritated look of her father. Never in all her years had she ever heard her father raise his voice at her, usually calm, && soft-spoken, sometimes agitated. It broke her heart to hear her father speak to her this way, there was a tightening feeling in her throat, afraid to say another word, but she tries anyway.
" but, father...--" she gets cut off.
I do not want to hear another word of it, Aria! her father scolds. Why would you want to become an Adventurer? To go off and get yourself killed, like the majority of them do anyway?!
Adonis, that is enough! her mother chimes in, her angered evident. Do not speak to her that way!
There was a long, exasperated sigh from him. Shaking his head, he gets out some last words before going back into his office.
Forget this notion of adventuring, I do not want to hear it again, do you understand?
Before Giulia marches after him down the hall, she turns to Aria, with a sincere, but softened look.
I'll speak with you later.
After she departs, Aria could hear the muffled arguing between the two. 'twas rare that her parents raised their voices at each other, it was never easy hearing it. she could feel the eyes of her brother && sister, peeping in from the other room. but she doesn't bother to turn to them, instead she just stares at the floor, on the verge of tears. all of this because of her wanderlust...
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