so I’ve decided to do commissions, just so I can get the practice, and get my art out there more.
The Goods and Prices:
chibis: $3 + $1 for each additional chibi.
headshots: $5 + $2 for each additional headshot.
busts: $7 + $3 for each additional bust.
full body: $10 + $5 for each additional body.
painting: $15 + $10 for each additional character
[ note: there may be an additional $5 added
for full body paintings, depending on complexity. ]
backgrounds: white (default) — $0
solid color, pattern, gradient — $0
painted — $5+ depending on complexity [example]
I’m fine with drawing canon characters or OCs. Definitely humans are okay, but I may hold off on any aliens until I’m confident in my ability to draw them. I will also need either written descriptions and/or photo references for OCs. I might draw porn or not safe for work material as well, but don’t expect it to be often (maybe only 1% of the time). Here is my art tag, so if you see a particular style that you like, you can always request a character in that style.
It might take me 1-2 weeks, possibly more, do finish your commission, but I will continually keep you updated. I’ll have about 5 slots open, just so i don’t get overwhelmed.
you can contact me via ask, fanmail, or email at firstname.lastname@example.org. give me 1-3 days to respond; if I don’t reply to you within that period, feel free to contact me again.
I’ll wait until after completing your commission to ask for payment, and I will give you a watermarked version before asking for payment (just in case things need to be changed). I accept payments through PayPal only.
If you have any questions, concerns, or anything, don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask, fanmail, or email! ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
"Well that’s just stupid. If I say I love you, it still counts half an hour later. Or a day later. Or even a week later.”
"The same thing should apply to please, regardless of whether it’s about soap, more soap or sucking my dick."
"I love you is a general declaration of your feelings. Please applies to a specific situation or what you’re asking about."
"…would you really say please first if you asked me to do something like that? Maybe you are learning.”
"Hey, aren’t you meant to be my boyfriend?”
"I already said please! Doesn’t it carry over?"
"I am. As are you mine. And as my beau, you should be a little more respectful.”
"You said please pick up the soap, so no, it doesn’t.”
"What the fuck would I want with a bar of soap, Fitzpatrick.”
Drops it again.
"I would think to slip on it and hit your head— hopefully knocking some sense into you."
"Or at least a few manners."
Because what else is he meant to do with it?
Grabs the wrist attached the the hand that grabbed his ass
that also might have caused a rather effeminate gasp and shoves the bar of soap into it instead.
"There’s your soap."
"The rules are stupid, if you ask me. But fine, fine. I’m sorry.”
"Now will you please pick up the soap?”
"I accept your apology."
Bends over to grab the bar of soap off the ground.
When it came to Ronny, his nature was fairly forgiving and positive. He jumps at basically any chance to enjoy someone’s company, as long as that company is friendly and not endangering his life. Despite how popular he may be, he didn’t get nearly as many visitors as he’d like at the station. He wondered often if he seemed at all intimidating to people.
He keeps that smile showing as he gazes over Kyle curiously, almost hopeful as he awaits the answer. It was no secret that Ronny longed for friends, for people he can talk to or share moments with. Even just a cup of coffee together was a lovely time to him.
”Brilliant. How many sugars do you like?”
Ronny nudges his chair in under the desk before slipping to the door at the back, opening it and moving to his little make-shift kitchen. It was his current living quarters, believe it or not. A small mattress in the corner and a stove with a working fridge(though not big) right beside it. His lack of wealth could possibly be obvious, but he’d not be the first to struggle with money in Rapture.
A prying, flicker of his eyes peered into the ajar door; he couldn’t help but look. Snoop, perhaps, but only due to his own curiosity. Imagine, Cohen had enough money to buy himself one of the finest apartments in Rapture, as well as Kyle’s own, and manage all of Frolic and the shops that chained back to it, yet Kyle’s favoured radio host lived in his studio.
Kyle’s thoughts didn’t lead to pity, as many’s often would, merely making an observation.
In fear of appearing rude the pianist instead looked at the recording equipment in the room he occupied, taking in the unfamiliar bits and bobs,
”May I ask; Are all of your shows live?”
"I won’t! Probably. It’s never happened before." Or maybe it has but because his bed is constantly wet from the persistent drip, it probably hadn’t caught light.
This little domestic arrangement would probably last a couple of days at the most before either Silas, or Kyle, or perhaps even both, came to their senses and realised it was too much, far too soon.
"I might not be able to wait, no. Y’know how it is. Some mornings, you just wake up and gotta go, gotta go.” Whether it was a normal thing or not, he had no real idea. His only prior experience of any sort of domesticity was with his mother and she wasn’t exactly a shining example with a constant trail of different men weaving in and out of her life.
"I’ll think about it at work an’ make you a list."
Kyle could only laugh, amused. And perhaps suffering from a bit of nervous excitement. He hadn’t lived with another person in years. Since he was a child. And he’s certainly never shared a bed with someone as a regular thing.
What if some of his at-home habits were odd?
What if he made weird sounds, or spoke in his sleep?
But those were things he would have to worry about later, instead he nodded, “alright. Make me a list. Would you like to meet at my apartment after work? Then you can stop by yours first… and I can stop by the farmer’s market, pick up some groceries..” he trailed off, happily focusing on food instead.
Silas deliberately being difficult? Perish the thought. It was more like he just couldn’t remember how old he was. He could tell you how old any of the records in his store were, the dates the records were produced and, in some cases, the locations they were made. It was as though he had a mental block when it came to himself, however.
"Oh, sure, yeah,. I can tell you that." In a way, he felt a little bad in the face of Kyle’s frustration, which was weird because that was usually the kind of thing he enjoyed. "I was born September 26th, nineteen-twenty-four. Have at it."
Come to think of it, he was fairly knocking on in years. And Kyle was so young. Talk about a May to December sort of relationship. Truth be told, he wasn’t even entirely sure of how old Kyle was. Twenty-something, he knew that much.
"twenty…four?" His eyes flickered up as he did the math. 38—which was the year kyle was born— minus 24 was a grand total of 14 years. If he had thought about it, reminding himself to give a devil may care attituted about their ages difference would have been a good idea. As it was, his brow shot up, and he might have even mouthed a ‘wow’. Really how surprised could he be? Silas obviously wasn’t near Kyle’s own age. Though he might have passed as still being somewhere in his 20s. Kyle liked the number 29.
It was a bit of a shock, but it wouldn’t change where kyle stood on things between them. He was already with another man, a decade or more between partners was probably the more common aspect of their relationship.
"Ah," he realised he had been perhaps too quiet, "fourteen! Years. Fourteen years, I was born in ‘38. Uhm, that’s not so bad… Not that I thought it would be bad…"
"Thank you for telling me.."
Sander made a mental note to get the Pneumo checked as he couldn’t stand not having a reliable corresponding system. He wouldn’t have known his pupil was not feeling well had he not taken it upon himself to go check up on him.
As Sander rummaged through the kitchen, he heard Kyle ask him what he was doing. “Tea” he simply said as he began to put water into a kettle and resting it on top of the stove while he lit it with a spark from the Incinerate plasmid.
"I will not have you arguing, young Fitzpatrick! The most pressing concern right now is getting you back into tip top shape to work" Sander ‘tsk’ed under his breath as he bustled about the kitchen while humming. He was in a good mood, at least for the time being but the anger at having been removed from his latest work bubbled quietly.
"Tea sounds lovely," Kyle settled not to argue, or fret over the maestro doing something as mundane as making him a hot drink. Instead he focused on the good. Like how caring the gesture was, and how pleased he was to have his mentor’s sole attention.
"Would you like me to help…?" He offered, despite the short coughing fit that followed, pressing his face into the crook of his arm, "O-or… shall I wait in the living room so Id on’t get in you way..?" A sheepish smile followed.
It didn’t quite seem possible at the rate he was going. One song had consumed most of his day, one of the main lead’s songs he was meant to accompany. But without anyone to read the part, it was difficult to finish.
"Daniel?" He called, knowing the stagehand was still working, most likely somewhere in earshot as he had caught him out of the corner of his eye not long ago, "will you do me a favour?"
don’t do it don’t make him an asshole your kyle is perfect if no one is willing to destroy him then they’re weanies
Bless ur heart.
its natural to not wish pain upon nice people??
That makes u the weenie. (
Take everything he loves and BURN IT! Or beat him up in an alley before work.
Take a lesson from them ^