#will post the full art & extras for me ko-fi members

[sanctus-ingenium]

heads-up display visor

#harpy #a little treat for me after finishing an assignment :) #will post the full art & extras for me ko-fi members #edit some ppl do be tagging this as a biomech or whatever. no it's just a helmet. it comes off #read the alt text #setting: siren

[dexterlittle]

Hello Ghoap Community! And CODMW as well!

I am currently working on something HOT for the community! As in something you'll be able to use on tumblr, in discord, on telegram etc !

I was thinking of selling the bundle on my Ko-Fi at first but then everyone would just save and use them from those who would've spent money.

SO. It will be free! Ill only charge a little fee for extra characters (I currently have 7) as it will be extra time for research if I dont know that particular one and to try drawing them correctly.

I'll even accept OCs and characters from other games/movies/etc for a small fee.

And by small fee I mean 5$ or less. Still thinking about it. Once I reveal the project (Just need to colour the bois!), Ill add the commission info for other characters on my Ko-Fi page!

So considering all this and the time Im putting into it, it would make me very happy if some of you would consider tipping me/become a member and sharing my Ko-Fi (and this post) within the community!

Im a small disabled artist who cannot work so this would help me a lot. Especially since I need a new tablet to keep working on nice art! (My current one is borrowed, and completely full, making programs crash quite often, loosing progress whenever it happens)

So thank you in advance everyone! I really appreciate it! I will try to make a commission sheet but for now contact me if you'd like to commission me for a small project! I can colour something you made or commissioned as well! :)

So thanks again!

-DexterLittle

--------

EDIT: I decided that if I get one donation/new member I will release a WIP/Sneak Peek/Teaser!! :3 (From someone else than @tapioca-milktea1978 - you silly friend! You already donated and are a member! Ahah <3)

#ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #art requests #cod soap #cod ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ko fi link #ko fi commissions #ko fi #commissions #gary roach sanderson #john price #captain price #cod price #cod roach #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #captain mactavish #09 soapghost #09 soap #09 ghost #community gift #Gif #sticker

[smolvenger]

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed- Chapter Three: Red Roses

Chapter Word Count: 7K (Pretty Thick, prepare yourselves, get some water)

Paring: Some Stella/William (but focusing on the tragedy of his infidelity)and eventually Stella/Male OC

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. And Stella herself in the center of it all, torn between a wife's duty and her own quiet but present rage. Where in the midst of devastating heartbreak she gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: The Courtship, Betrothal, and Early Marriage of Miss Stella by her admirer, the Curate and later Vicar William Ransome. A sinister omen appears in her garden.

Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Mentions of sex but no actual smut. Slow Burn to the Drama (tm), Lots of very bittersweet with the foregone conclusion from the prologue fluff, and foreshadowing. Religion, victorian era attitudes, marriage. Eventually being Anti-W*lliam and Anti-C*ra so if you like them or that pairing I wouldn't recommend this fic.

A03 Link

Prologue//Chapter One//Chapter Two

Link to my Ko-Fi

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!!!!

Her, the most excellent of all, The best half of creation’s best, Its heart to feel, its eye to see, The crown and complex of the rest, Its aim and its epitome. Nay, might I utter my conceit, 'Twere after all a vulgar song, For she's so simply, subtly sweet, My deepest rapture does her wrong. Yet is it now my chosen task To sing her worth as Maid and Wife; Nor happier post than this I ask, To live her laureate all my life.

— Part I, Book I, Canto II: I.25–I.44 The Angel in The House by Coventry Patmore

"[The perfect wife] was intensely sympathetic. She was immensely charming. She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult arts of family life. She sacrificed daily. [...] Above all, she was pure." — Virginia Woolf, "Professions for Women"

“Pinkerton:...Either in love or insane,

It may be just an infatuation,

She's enchanted me with her innocent charms,

Delicate and fragile as blown glass...

With a sudden movement,

she frees herself like a butterfly,

She flutters and settles

with such quiet grace

that a madness seizes me to pursue her,

even though I might tear off her wings"- Madama Butterfly, English Translation

As we returned home, life carried on as usual. My brothers- two elder, Elliott, Brian, and one younger, Dante- went out to work while my little sister- another light-haired Harris girl christened Edith, and I stayed home, doing chores. It never seemed to end. There was always laundry to do, things to cook, things to clean, and the occasional guest to attend to. Not that I minded that too much. It seemed a better option than laboring with scythes for hours under a brutal sun. I would much rather water the beanstalks and tend to my flowers under that same sun. I would also venture to say there is something oddly beautiful about seeing a dirty floor made shiny with soap and water or bread rising to fullness.

There was one evening when I was tasked with baking the bread for dinner. However, when I pulled it out of the oven and cut it to see the result, I saw that although it was baked thoroughly, part of it was burned black. Dinner was arriving soon with no extra time to bake another. My father insisted bread be served at every meal. I had no choice but to set it on the table.

Everyone piled into the dining room, and I took my usual seat next to my brother, Elliott. Dinner began with my father’s prayer for a blessing. Then silverware clicked as we began to eat. Dante began passing the bread plate across and each member took their slices, opting for the bread that was a lighter shade. It went through my parents, past Edith, and Brian, before it arrived to me.

The only sides left were one slice of the properly done and the other of the burnt side. As I reached a hand for the lighter half, my mother’s voice interjected. “Stella! Why are you reaching for that part?”

“Because that is the bread I would like to eat, Mama.”

“But look at your brother’s face, he clearly wants it…”

Glancing, I could see my brother’s small eyes flicker hungrily toward that half.

“He’s been working hard in the field all day, he’s so hungry! The farmers worked him for six hours without a bite! Shouldn’t you feel some pity for him? Why should he get the burnt half?”

“But I made this bread, and I don’t want to eat the burnt half…” I replied quietly.

I heard a deep exhale from my mother. Eyes were turning towards us in tension.

“Give the lighter half to your bother, Stella, please…”

I gave in and passed the plate to him. He took the lighter bread that I coveted.

“That is a good girl, how kind of you Stella…” my mother praised, her shoulders relaxing.

Elliott took the slice of bread and slathered it with butter before wolfing it down. He was sunburnt, his forehead still sweaty. Perhaps he did deserve it. Perhaps I made his life a little easier.

He passed the plate back to me. There was only black bread. And the little pink butter plate was completely empty. I ate it- though the charring felt bitter on my tongue.

“Stella, you did something very sweet for your brother…” my father began.

“Once you are a married woman, Stella, once you are a mother…Edith, you too- listen this is important,”

Edith took the last bite of pickled beef to listen.

“You must learn to leave behind anything you may want for yourself. You must sacrifice yourself for your children, and most especially for your husband.”

“How come?” my sister asked.

I washed down the aftertaste of the burnt bread with my water.

“There is something sweet about sacrifice, love, no matter how small. You must learn to put others before yourself- how else will they feel loved after everything they give you?”

“It’s the Christian thing to do, girls” my father pointed out.

“Your father works very, very hard at the mill to keep a roof over our head and bread on our table so we all may have a comfortable life and for that, I have always made sure I was an obedient, faithful, and devoted wife. I made sure that food was cooked, and the house was clean, and that all of you would be in line…and in turn, you both will have a happy marriage and a fulfilling life…”

Edith blinked and I saw a slight frown. My mother turned to me.

“Stella, as you are the elder sister, you must make sure your sister follows your example! Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“As women, we cannot be ungrateful for what our husbands provide us, so we must sacrifice ourselves daily for them. Or how else will we fulfill our duties as wives? How will they know we love them or show any gratitude? That is what love is for a woman to a man, sacrifice and devotion to his happiness above all else. That is the secret to a fulfilling marriage and to being a wife,” she said.

I nodded.

“I’ll make sure to do that mama,” I replied, quietly cutting my meat into slices before eating it.

Edith tilted her head in thought.

After dinner, we gathered around the fire to sew, drink tea, and hear a book. We even had a piano and Dante, the musician of the family would often play something. That night I began to press a dandelion I found that afternoon into my book as my father opened a collection of mythologies.

“A little pagan, I know, but the stories are most entertaining, dears…here…let me read of the myth of Theseus and the princess Ariadne…”

He began to read it in his sonorous voice. I felt a nudge on my elbow.

It was Elliott, he leaned close to me over his tea and whispered, “Thank you for the bread, Stella, I was actually very, very hungry and it was a hard day for me….”

“I’m glad I could help…” I voiced.

The next month, over breakfast, my parents made a startling announcement. The owner of the mill was so impressed with our father’s work, that he was being promoted. There was another, growing mill in Aldwinter. The very town Elizabeth and Fanny lived! The very place I visited earlier! The job there would pay far more than it did here, and there was already a house for us. The family was going to move to Aldwinter for good.

Packing was all in an excited and tearful rush. Wishing our neighbors goodbye and promises to write seemed to happen hourly. I had to go and have a last tea with Miss Greene, thanking her for teaching me so young about flower pressing. But despite such tears for the change and separation, my mother was joyful. She was going to be near Elizabeth with her grey-streaked hair, dark eyes, joyful laugh, and affinity for card games and picnics, as well as Fanny. We would not be strangers in a strange land.

When the day arrived, we gathered all our things in our boxes onto the first of two carriages. Then we hopped onto another one, squishing in seven people, and set off for a day’s ride to our new home. It was late nightfall by the time we arrived. Edith and I lay on our new bed in our new shared room and slept in until noon. I jumped at the time, dressed, and immediately set to unpacking as she followed my suit, albeit more leisurely in pace.

But my sister and I barely had our clothes out of our boxes and into our chests when there was a knock and then a creak at the door. There were some hearty male voices from downstairs- one sounded familiar, and another was my father's.

My mother rushed inside our room in excitement.

“Girls- we have guests! It’s the parish vicar and his curate! They’ve come to welcome us!”

My heart skipped a hundred beats despite the slowness I had as I walked down the stairs.

Was it? Was it him? I wondered.

It was. There stood the Vicar, and his curate was still Mister Ransome in their black with white collars to greet us. A cake was in the vicar’s hand, claiming his wife was the most excellent baker. Mister Ransome greeted the other five family members but there was a softening of familiarity with my mother. And at me as well.

This was the first of several visits. There was only one church in Aldwinter and only one parish. Now that we were new members, it was the Vicar’s duty to greet us and make us feel like old friends of the congregation. His wife herself would sometimes visit us as well. And as his apprentice, William had to be there every time. And what were we to do? Refuse them and turn them away?

There was one evening, where among our plates, heads turned away from the current vicar’s grey head to the handsome, reddish blonde head of William. Even my sister seemed charmed by him, batting her thick eyelashes when he looked her way.

Edith asked him “Where do you get ideas for sermons so much? I think it must be so hard!”

He gave a half laugh and a smile.

“Well, he’s not the one who has to speak most Sundays!” the current Vicar pointed out. His wife smiled and held his hand.

“You find ideas for sermons everywhere- in nature especially. I go on so many walks. I like metaphors I find in nature- such as the ocean tide by the stony beach on a cloudy day. The sun through the clouds after a storm. One sermon I hope to give someday is about a field of sunflowers I saw here…”

“Sunflowers?” I asked.

He looked at me with a smile that made my stomach drop.

“How they turn always to the sun no matter where it is.”

“Where did you find Sunflowers?” I questioned, batting my mouth with the napkin before returning it to my lap.

‘They grow in a field by Mr. Morrison’s pasture…” he explained. “It’s quite a sight.”

I turned around to my parents.

“Mama…sometimes soon, may you accompany us to the field soon? And Mister Ransome, where is this Mr. Morrison? I must ask his permission to collect one, please.”

“Collect? You collect flowers?” he repeated, eyebrows raised in interest.

“I…I like to press flowers into a book. I grow them and then press them inside, so they are preserved forever. It is my hobby.”

My mother reached over closer to Mr. Ransome, “our Stella has developed quite a collection of books full of her flowers and a gift for gardening too,” she boasted.

“I want to see the sunflowers too!” Edith protested.

“Then… then with your permission, Mrs. Harris, we will accompany your daughters to see the sunflowers next Friday…especially if it’s for Miss Harris’s book,” he offered.

My mother looked between him and me. There was a flash in her eye that made me drop my head back down to her napkin.

“Then we shall have to do that.”

We went on that trip. Notably, my mother looped her arm around Edith’s and walked her a further distance away giving me time to walk by Mister Ransome’s side and speak about the weather with him. And indeed, I was given permission to pluck a smaller sunflower to press into one of my beloved books.

Secretly, I was grateful for my mother. I found myself in private admiring Mister Ransome. I am sure I was far from the only one, being a handsome, charismatic, single man with a stable occupation. And especially since he was required to be at the church, he would not be single for long. Especially in that small Essex village with limited options for ladies.

But…who was I, I wondered? He was so intelligent and good. Was I really worthy of him?

The first time my sister and I went to the town hall for dances with all the other young people, I and William danced only one together. Then we partnered with others.

He wouldn’t like me like that, I convinced myself. I was counting myself lucky with the sunflower trip and one dance.

I would toss and turn at night, thinking of him as my sister snored next to me. There were other, more confident, bold, beautiful women, and then there was me. I had to content myself with the odd visit to that village, the church, the occasional event in the church, and only speaking with him there before he moved on to the next ambitious pair of mother and daughter.

Besides, as I recalled our first meeting and the conversations, I had with Elizabeth that day, I had to repeat it like a prayer in my head-Minsters. Aren’t. Romantic. Perhaps I could do better and would meet another man in the town.

Sometime later, there was a parish picnic. It was warm and sunny, a September giving its last farewell to summer before the slow wilt of Autumn. People gathered to sit on their blankets and bring baskets. Children played while laughing as their mothers yelled after them. Men laid down to smoke their pipes. Cakes slowly melted into the plates beneath the sunshine. Sighs accompanied breezes from overindulging in pies baked by the mothers and grandmothers.

I sat with my family on our red and white picnic blanket. The basket was empty of sweetmeats, and everyone was mingling. My brothers and sister were helping to participate in cricket. My parents only sat idly chatting with each other about the new mill.

I was only watching the sky from beneath my blue parasol. How dreamily the clouds shifted- they changed shapes, gathered, and divided from the wind. How eternal it looked and how beautiful. Thank goodness for the shade or else the blare of the sun, despite its warmth, would have blocked such a vision.

I was in such admiration of it I didn’t hear footsteps in the grass towards me.

“Miss Harris, I hoped you would be here.”

I blinked and jumped a little, but the sight of Mister Ransome was welcome.

“It is nice to see you too. It’s a pleasant day for a picnic...and look up! Look at the clouds in the sky. That one seems like an evergreen- and that one a whisp of wheat. I always found it beautiful…” I began.

“Picnic days should be beautiful.”

There was a pause. When I looked back down at him, I saw one hand behind his back.

“I am here because I have a gift for you…” he announced, leaning down on his knees so his eyes would meet mine.

“For me. Why?”

“Because I thought you would like it. I found it and saved it just for you.

From behind his back, he pulled out something long and thin, wrapped in brown tissue paper. He gave it to me. I opened it to be a beautiful white gardenia. It still even smelt fresh.

“It’s for your books, so you may press it.” He said it.

My parents halted in their conversations to watch as if we were a play and they were the audience.

“Mister Ransome…thank you. Thank you very much. It will…remind me of you and how…how good you have been to our family in your parish and how kind your gift was,” I thanked.

We spent that time talking about things other than the weather. Discussing what we thought of God as clouds moved by us in white, fluffy droves. I held the gardenia gently, never letting the flower go or letting it out of my sight. I pressed it once I got home.

We spoke every Sunday from then on and even on the street. And visit us at meals and tea far more frequently.

And the times when we danced increased to two per party.

It was late winter when the snow was melting. I was mending a stocking when my mother walked into the room. She was smiling.

“Stella…you have a letter…” she began.

“Oh, from home? I bet it’s Miss Greene.” I suggested.

She shook her pale head.

“It’s from Mister Ransome,” she explained.

Edith practically threw away her sewing in excitement.

“I knew it, oh I knew it!!” she cheered.

“What do you mean?” I asked sternly.

“Isn’t it obvious?!” she squealed, leaning closer.

I slowly opened the letter and read its contents silently. I heard the sharp exhale and giggles of Edith next to me. My own breath stopped in my body once the contents had registered. I had to reread it again to make sure I was not dreaming.

“Miss Harris, I must confess between the time of our first meeting and when you arrived in Aldwinter to now, I have grown fond of you. Very, very fond. And I confess these feelings have grown to where I can no longer deny it. I cannot deny why I walked with you to the sunflowers or gave you that gift. I cannot deny the real reason I gave you the flower. I love and admire you…”

“He certainly knows how to write a good letter! How romantic!!” my sister exclaimed.

I looked up at my mother’s face. She held out a hand and I gave her the letter for her to read as well.

Edith ran over to the end of the steps to yell out the news at Father and our brothers.

“Mister Ransome loves Stella! Mister Ransome loves Stella!” Edith cried.

I hushed her, practically dragging her back to the parlor.

“Why can’t that happen to me, yet Mama??” she complained.

“Edith, you’re only seventeen…you have so much time before you! I’m twenty-four…. just sixty years ago some would have called me a spinster,” I advised.

“I just want someone to love me, now!” she protested.

“Mama, papa, your brothers, and I love you…” I tried to reason.

“But Stella, it’s just not the same!”

“Well…you’re right, it’s not…but someday, you’ll have your turn,” I playfully pinched her cheek “you’re too pretty to be a spinster, anyway!”

She laughed and nursed the spot I pinched her.

“Oh, I must tell Fanny! This is too exciting!” She rushed out to happily gossip to anyone within her ear’s reach.

My mother handed back the letter. “It is a lovely letter. You should feel very, very fortunate a man like him has taken interest in you, my dear.”

I felt dizzy with joy. He loved me! He loved me!

“May I… may I please have the writing desk?” I asked. “I…I would like to write a response.”

“Of course,” my mother replied, beaming.

Immediately I wrote down my response, saying that I felt the same. Once the contents had my mother’s consent, we sent it. I could hardly wait the hours until Sunday morning in my giddiness. It was everything I could to distract myself from my excited impatience.

Once that Sunday morning arrived, I made sure my hair was done as neat as it could be and picked my nicest dress. Any stray strand of hair was tucked and pinned away. When I saw him, we made our glances all throughout the service. Our confirmations of love had to be accompanied by my family in the far corner of that church to give us the illusion of privacy.

“So, you do feel the same, Miss Harris?” he asked. "Truly?"

“You read my letter. I do…and I feel the same to you…would you join us for tea today?” I asked.

“Yes, I shall.”

Finally, the next afternoon as My mother and I were ironing an apron, Mister Ransome knocked on the door and announced himself. But the vicar was not with him for a typical tea.

“Mrs. Harris and Miss Harris, good day…”

“Good day…” we repeated.

His eyes were large and bright with urgency.

“Mrs. Harris, where is your husband? Is he working right now?”

We froze. Only the ticking of the clock in our parlor could be heard.

“He is home now. He’s upstairs in his study, I think,’ my mother answered.

“I would like to speak to him alone, with your permission.”

Another tick, tick, tick from the clock. I nearly dropped the iron in my hand.

My mother accompanied him upstairs as I stayed put. Then she returned to me.

“Come Stella …we need to check on the laundry drying.” She spoke. “And we need to make some tea for our guest…”

She placed a kettle on the stove as a welcome distraction from the voices upstairs. We walked outside to feel the rush of the cold air as we pulled shirts from the line out in our backyard.

I saw a glimpse of his curly head in the window. And he was speaking with my father. They were smiling. I forced my eyes away to the straw basket on the ground.

“What are they discussing?” I asked nervously.

I was no fool, I only wanted confirmation. To get out of my racing mind and feel the earth on my feet and the words from another person and not my imagination. That it all was real.

My mother neatly folded the bedsheet on top of the blanket. Then she approached me and cupped my face gently.

“Mister Ransome is a man of stability for the parish that picks him. And yes, he is handsome and charming but…. If this Is what I think it is…whatever happens, whoever he… decides on is lucky but…there will much responsibility. But you have always been a good, responsible girl. Stella. What matters most now is do you like him?” she asked.

I blinked, a few tears coming out of my eyes despite myself.

“If I didn’t, I’d reject his letter. I like him. More than I can say….” I found myself confessing.

She smiled and kissed my forehead. Saying no other word.

It wasn’t long until Mister Ransome walked out from the back door and approached us.

“Mrs. Harris…will you give me permission to speak in private to Miss Harris in the parlor? It won’t be very long.”

My heart leaped to my throat. I stayed still and yet the world was spinning.

“You may. The tea needs finishing,” She spoke. We were led inside. She briefly squeezed my arm and retreated to the kitchen.

He approached me. He opened his hand for mine. I trembled as I placed mine in his.

“Miss Harris… the current vicar is going to retire in a month. And it is his wish for me to take his place as Vicar for the Aldwinter parish. If I am going to do so…It will be expected of me to marry. Stella I…I would like you to be my wife.”

Before I could answer, he carried on.

“I think of all the women here, you would be the best suited to be a minister’s wife. You’re everything I could ever want my wife to be, what a wife should be. Your father agrees with this and has granted me permission, should you say yes. You will make the most incredible example of a good woman for Aldwinter and…and if that’s not enough, I love you too…”

“Did you forget? I love you too, Mister Ransome…” I was able to voice.

“Could you please call me William, from now on?”

“Alright, then William, I accept you!”

Two rings were pulled from his pocket, and one slipped onto my finger perfectly. He gave me our first kiss then and there. Albeit quickly and chastely- my mother was no doubt listening from the door. We held hands as we walked into the kitchen to confirm the news to my mother and each family member who would return.

Three afternoons later, the current vicar and his wife called. They brought earl grey tea, fresh walnut cake, and a lecture.

“Now, Miss Harris…you are about the become wife to the next vicar of the Aldwinter parish. Are there any ministers in your family at all?” the husband asked, hardly touching the drink.

“There aren’t, really” my father answered.

“Marriage to a head of the church is not to be taken lightly, Miss Harris…” the vicar said.

They went on to explain that marrying William meant marrying the church and the parish. The day he wrote that letter it had been in my mind constantly. He had even discussed this and the decision to make me his wife was not a choice given lightly.

“Miss Harris…” the current vicar’s wife voiced. She was tall and slender. Her brown hair had not greyed much. She held herself straight and looked down on me as a queen might from her throne.

“I shall make it easy for you…I shall give you a list of everything you will need to know as a vicar’s wife, and everything you must do in addition to any wife’s duties…here, I have written them down. And I must see you read each aloud and copy it down as well…”

She handed me a small journal bound in red. I opened it to read the list. Then I fetched my own pen and paper and in front of them, read them aloud and copied them down from her clear, beautiful handwriting.

1. No matter what, you must overall support your husband in his ministry, friendship, and partner with him for a loving home atmosphere.

2. You are to maintain daily prayer with God

(Which I already had since childhood)

3. Support him in his emotions without complaint

4. Encourage his advancements while maintaining the balance of his home and family.

It struck me and I paused, a small blot of ink spilling. Did they think I was unable to do so? Would they force the engagement off? Were they testing me? If I failed these, would they find another far more worthy? And would William replace me with another woman, worst of all?? Oh God, God help me! I would prove to them I was worthy to be his wife no matter what, I resolved!

5. Visit members of the congregation as able.

6. Build relationships with women in the church to support, encourage and model Godliness to them.

“That one is especially important, Miss Harris”, she warned “Every woman in Aldwinter will look to you as an example of a Godly woman. It is not that you aren’t Godly, but this will increase. Their eyes will all be watching you as to what to do with their own lives, homes, and marriages. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

7. Reach out to those on the outside and facilitate relationships with all women or men in the congregation or otherwise.

8. Pray intently for your husband’s strength to withstand opposition, temptation, and arrogance

“William is a good, Christian man- that will not be hard, you won’t suffer any grave sin from him” the vicar assured me.

I went down to carefully copy the last ones.

9. Attend Sunday services regularly and sit visibly so your husband always knows he has at least one ally in the congregation.

10. Stay after service to allow people to get to know you.

11. Be consistently humble; appreciating everything while demanding very little.

12. Be a blessing to the women in the church; encourage others to do the same.

14. Raise healthy, well-balanced children and be present for them.

15. Stay married.

Once I wrote the “d” of married, I looked up to them, almost pleading, but staying as calm as I could.

“I will be happy to. For William, it will be my joy to do all these things!”

The vicar’s wife placed a hand under my chin and tipped it to face her in her large blue eyes.

“And still with that loving, sweet spirit of yours, Miss Harris?” she asked kindly.

“Yes, I promise.” And that list I always kept in the pocket of my reticule and read each night before I slept.

In a way her apprentice as her husband and William were. She showed me everywhere around the church and introduced me to the various married women of the congregation. I was now no longer a child or an actress for their private romantic melodramas of local courtship. She let me sit beside her at church in the front row and take note of everything she did.

It felt daunting, but I found comfort in prayer. At last, at long last, my prayer for love and romance was answered! And now that was what I had to do. It was longer than what I initially thought, but so be it. William would know every day that I loved him and would give my life for him, even if it meant staying a little longer in the church. And even after he performed the duties of a curate during the service, he would walk down to that row. We were permitted to hold hands during the service. It was a blissful five months. William alone, no Vicar at his tail, was present for tea and every meal and promenade after, leaving his final, and sweetest goodbye to me. By then the sun cracked the ice so that the rivers, lakes, and ocean would flow again. He was permitted to be in a rowboat with me on lakeside picnics. We would walk by the beach during visits to the sea.

Despite the gossip-hungry eyes of the parish noting our every breath, we were in our own world, smiling. Of course, we exchanged numerous letters. Each one he wrote me was more beautiful and romantic than the last. Of course, these were still checked by my mother for anything inappropriate and then returned to me. Of all the men in that town, he was expected the least to stray from anything improper. And of all the women, I was the one least allowed to be out of line now. Not that one word of his letters during our engagement implied anything at all. They didn’t need to. If he did become a writer, I was convinced, he would make the world fall in love with the power he held in his pen.

He gave me small gifts such as flowers, new books, new journals to press my blooms, gloves, and such. We exchanged our photographs and locks of our hair. I kept his photograph and that reddish-blonde curl on the same page with the gardenia. Now when there was a local dance, we could have three.

That is as well as usual wedding planning. Invitations. Shopping. Recipes and ribbons and the like.

The final two months before the wedding the current vicar retired. Now it was William who was weekly on the pulpit. He immediately won over the parish. His words could move the hardest of hearts and he was immediately beloved. And I was there, on the front row, smiling with his ring on my finger. Counting down until that day of all days. Four weeks. Three weeks.

“I must say, I’m so used to performing weddings I must restrain myself from the speech!” he would whisper with excitement to me at dinner.

Two weeks. One week. Five days. Two. One.

Finally, the wedding arrived. I recall my white dress had a high collar and long sleeves for modesty for the other women to take note of. Modest, but still pretty. My father seemed to glow as he walked me down the aisle of the stone church. I felt genuine that I was beautiful. Beautiful enough that William smiled ear to ear when he turned to see me.

The regional bishop cleared his throat before he began to recite the wedding ceremony, prayers, hymns, and all.

Finally, came the vows. We stood to face each other

I heard the bishop intone:

“William, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife to live in God’s ordinance of the Holy State of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, honor her, keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others keep only her if you both shall live?”

He inhaled deeply and replied, “I will.”

The bishop turned to me.

“Stella, wilt thou have this man to be they wedded husband to live in God’s ordinance of the Holy State of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, obey him, keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others keep only him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will” I said without a second’s hesitation.

More was said. It seemed that I blinked and then rings were exchanged, and he signaled to the congregation.

“I now present to you, under God and this congregation, man and wife, William, and Stella Ransome. William, you may kiss your bride.”

As simple as that. I was married.

There was much jaunty celebration in the town hall afterwards, fitting the marriage of a minster of a small town. Thankfully, there seemed to be no open ill will from the local female admirers of my husbands. In fact, I got more invitations to tea than I ever thought I would get in my lifetime. I must have shaken hands and been congratulated by every person in England on that day.

Dante cheerfully offered to be one of the musicians for my day for free. As William reached to hold my hand as we greeted his side of the family, Dante began to play one sweet tune with descending notes full of joy. They sparkled and giggled it seemed.

My mother walked over to him, and I overheard their conversation, “what is that song?”

“I got it from a music book in London- it’s an aria called Caro Nome by some Verdi chap, it’s from his opera about a hunchbacked jester, mother!”

She shot him a bemused look.

“The song’s about love! It seemed fitting for today!”

“Well, it is charming…” she said.

After the last line, a violin picked up. Dante played something even faster.

“Oh, we must at our wedding- Dance with me, Stella! Please!” William begged.

As I nodded, he pulled me onto the floor with the other couples.

I can tell you now that I was his most experienced of partners, he wasn’t the best of dancers, but a passionate one, pouring his all as he swayed and swirled me around. The music was the most beautiful I had ever heard. Smiles upon all of us watching how much he loved me despite his feet landing mere centimeters from my toes.

But I felt like I could fly. I never felt more loved from him than in that moment. We danced so much and talked and greeted and celebrated so much we even nearly forgot to eat our own cake.

Now I must recall this. Please do not think I am a certain kind of woman or forward or crude. You know how I began my story. The Marital act and my experience joining William Ransome’s bed must be recalled. But I will refrain from specifics out of politeness. You will understand why I even write at all about our bed later, I hope.

When it came to that evening, the guests were starting to leave. My mother walked up to me.

“Do you have…any last questions before…before tonight?” She asked.

I looked around. No one was listening in. William was splitting a congratulatory pipe with my brothers.

“I don’t mama…I know everything I need for now…” I confirmed.

The sky was black, and the last guest waved goodbye.

He led me to his house. I had never been inside, propriety forbidding of course. It was a tall white house in the middle of a field. Inside was cozy and brown- wooden floors, walls, and steps with not a bit of paint or wallpaper. A small, tight kitchen. A living room with two chairs. And stairs leading to the second floor.

He offered his hand to help me upstairs. Then placed his hand on the knob of a brown door.

“Here, this will be our room from now on.”

It was a bare room. There was a desk, windows, bookshelves, and Knick knacks like that. In the center was a large, blue bed.

I sat on the bed in my wedding gown, yet to undo a button as he knelt to start a kindle in the fireplace for warmth. My heart was starting to race with nerves.

Once he sat down next to me, he turned to me and offered his hand. I accepted it. Then he leaned forward, and I closed my eyes.

He began to kiss me but…differently. It was passionate. Forward. I was surprised a holy man could even kiss like that. He hands wandered down to my waist. He had never done that before and it shot me with electricity. He practically grabbing my dress to pull me onto him as he continued kissing. All my life, I was told to stay away from such desires. The risk of being alone with a man of bad character. The risk of ruin. Now it was no longer a sin, but a required ceremony between a husband and wife.

And that was one of many tests I had to pass for him to be happy. Every bit as much as the list saying to pray for him.

He stopped. His hands landed on my skirt.

He looked at me and said “we…we can wait, Stella, it doesn’t have to be tonight.” I could tell he wished for it to be tonight, but said nothing.

My heart was picking up. We turned away to watch the fire.

It struck me.

I wasn’t afraid of lovemaking. Not at all now. In fact, I wanted it. And I wanted it from him.

I raised my skirt and led his hand to be on my leg. I began to unbutton my dress quickly and his eyes grew into large, blue saucers.

“William, I’d like it to be tonight…” I spoke.

And that was all he needed.

I was delightfully surprised how much I loved it. We fell soundly asleep and the next night we did it again.

I recall that second night he gathered my hair as I laid in bed and played with it, propping the strands on top of my head in a kind of messy bun.

“You are a saint, an angel, Stella, and even your hair is a halo…” he said lovingly.

The following night after that we did it twice.

It was an odd contrast. In the mornings I would help to plan and run the events in the church. I followed the list to the letter. I would attend and even often lead the Bible study of the local women and visit their teas for well-behaved conversations. But once I returned, William and I were anything but well-behaved. But we were married now! How could that be sinful?

I understand many who might read this admire and lust for my husband. Especially for his handsomeness and good character. I will let you imagine privately what it was like in that bed if it pleases you- and I ask your sympathy, for you to understand how much I loved and desired him as a wife. Anything you might imagine was possibly done and correct.

By days, I had my own duties to fulfill. Meals had to be cooked (though legally it was his, he wasn't the cook-my own kitchen! With any recipe William or I wanted!), the house had to be kept tidy (yes it was his but it felt like my own house!), gardening (legally his, but my own garden!), laundry (only mine and Williams!) as well as daily attendance of prayer, scripture reading, as well as visiting and attending all events, ceremonies, and services of the church while keeping visits from the women of town- Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Rogers, Mrs. Finch. Mrs. Bennett, Mrs. Franklin, Mrs. Gray, Mrs. Elliott, and so many other names that it made my head spin. However, nights were a different matter.

Anything that could be done in that bed in our marriage that could be done was done. Especially any act that pleased him. I wanted badly to please him. I did please him in any way he wanted. Then in turn, he wanted to please me. And his desire for me was not unwelcomed. He could not finish a sermon on that desk as soon as I was in that room undoing a button of my dress.

Before we slept each night, we did it. After I visited some of the local women and the afternoon was free, we did it. When we were returning home from visits and errands, we did it. We did it before dinner, after dinner, and rainy days, snowy days, sunny days, and even right before church in the early Sunday mornings. Often resulting in secret smiles during the service right after between us two. William had an appetite that could never be quenched.

I was convinced that was for me and me alone, especially as his wife.

One warm night, he kissed the top of my head after the bliss had spiraled down. He then put on his robe and gave me a blanket to cover myself. He walked to the window, gesturing me to follow. He opened the curtains to show the clear night sky. Not one cloud was in sight and there were stars in the thousands.

“Do you see that, all of those stars up there?” he asked, pointing up.

I gasped in awe. He leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“Those are for you, Stella. Your name is Star…they’re for you tonight.”

We embraced, watching the sky. He then turned to me.

“Tomorrow, since my meeting with the choir boys were canceled, there’s a spot I’d like to take you…” he offered.

“Take me there, Will, please!” I replied.

The next afternoon, he led me by his hand as we walked through the woods. We ducked under branches and leaves crunched beneath my shoes. He showed me a trail he had marked and then turned a corner. There was a pond, clear as a mirror right in front of us.

“This is my own spot…I’ve never shown it or discussed it to anyone…except now you,” he said.

“It’s beautiful!” I cried.

He began shedding off his shirt and pants. And he was not stopping at his undergarments.

“Wh…what are you doing?” I asked nervously.

“I’m going swimming…” he answered simply.

“Here!? Without any of your clothes?”

“You can’t swim with clothes on!” he protested.

“But…”

“No one will see us or find us, Stella!” he assured.

He disrobed until not a thing was on him. By then I was used to his attractive nakedness. But it was the sight of his bare torso among the leaves, unroofed sky, and the chatter of birds that shocked me.

“How long have you done this?” I asked.

“As long as I’ve been curate!” He walked down into the water.

“And no one caught you?” I asked.

“None!”

He began to glide through as effortlessly as a dolphin.

“Come Stella! Swim!”

“I…I just…”

I stared down at how the ground was wet with water beneath my shoes.

“Can you swim?”

“I can swim…only…I never have been…not like this!”

“Try it, Stella! Please! The water’s amazing!”

I sighed and nodded.

He got out of the pond and with wet hands helped me out of my dress, stockings, shoes, petticoats, and corset. God forbid a member of our parish pick the place to picnic now, I thought. But I insisted that at least I would be in my shift rather than completely bare, like him. So, help me, should someone see and recognize us, they would think at least I was decent.

He led me into the waters, at a certain depth I slipped and let him catch me as he laughed. We waded and swam joyfully. He was right, it felt amazing. He even placed his arms above my waist, wading up above the depths, he twirled me around. Our wet hair was clinging to our faces as we held each other and kissed as we waded. And no, no one caught us. It was much worth redressing with a wet shift beneath me. Such experiences were two of his many gifts.

Oh yes, He was generous and that expanded in our marriage. Since he knew through our letters and conversations that my favorite color was blue, our room was made to be blue. It was striking considering the rest of that plain house, but it was beautiful. It felt, in a way, like I had my own touch. That it was my room as much as his.

After his payment, he would spare some of it to buy me flower seeds. He gave me flower seeds to plant and water and tend to. Flowers that would bloom into those colorful blooms I adored so much and wished to press in my collection.

One unique flower seed he gave me was that for a Star Lily (“A star for the lady whose name is star!” he said). I planted it and in time it grew into one beautiful, full, white blossom. It was the pride and joy of my flower garden at the time.

One summer day, after watering the vegetables, I turned to my section with flowers to water them. Every rose, peony, and daisy were as normal. I looked everywhere for the Star Lily and could not find it.

Once my head ducked down, I realized why.

There was green Garden Snake right twisting around the Star Lily with its long body. Its weight bent down and broke the stem. It squeezed the flower, like one wringing a cloth. Then it was opening its mouth, eating, and tearing at the petals.

I gave a horrified shriek and retreated a few steps. The creature terrified me so much I could not even as much as find a stick and poke it away. Uselessly, I stood there and watched. William was away, unable to help or hear me.

It slithered further over the flower. The hearty stem grew weak and shriveled. It continued to bite and tear and squeeze the life out of the Star Lily. The tramped petals fell on the brown dirt. The petals beauty was now only memory.

#carrie writes #clemence poesy #tom hiddleston #fix it fanfiction #tw: mentions of sex #cw: mentions of sex #tw:mentions of religion #cw: mentions of religion #clemence poesy fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #stella ransome #stella ransome fanfiction #character study #stella ransome character study #fluff #fluff and angst #stella ransome x william ransome #stella ransome x male oc #female rage #hurt comfort series #fix it series #the essex serpent #the essex serpent fanfiction #thanks for the trauma sarah perry now I am fixing what your internal misogyny HAHAHA #tom hiddleston characters #tom hiddleston characters fanfiction #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst

[jessadilla]

My situation

Hello friends and followers!

I need your help. I will be opening commissions but leaving links to both paypal and ko-fi for anything anyone can spare. 

I understand it is very hard to help right now, it is possibly one of the toughest times some of us have faced. It certainly is for me. I work in retail during a global pandemic like so many others right now. Unfortunately this fact has taken a seriously toll on both my mental and physical health. While I have not (yet) caught covid, my depression and anxiety is at its peak and it is causing undue stress on my body to be in a constant state of panic attacks. 

Stores say they’re prepared for the holidays, but as far as I have witnessed, my store has taken zero extra precautions while also promoting holiday sales, and the store hours have gone back to normal while the store has been crowded every day for the past couple of weeks. Cases are rising, the cold weather will make it easier to spread...and I have an at risk family member at home that I am terrified of giving this thing to. I am at the end of my rope mentally. I am exhausted physically. (I would like to add when I brought up my concerns to my HR rep while he was understanding, he literally lied to my face about the measures and steps my company was taking because no one in our store enforces a Single Measure, so even if it's company wide policy, it's ineffective if it's not being followed literally at all.)

I have opted to take a leave of absence from work to at least cut off my chances temporarily from getting anything right after Thanksgiving, but ideally I’d like to be able to quit my job and find something that doesn’t involve exposing myself to an inconsiderate public and an uncaring corporate workplace.

So, I am asking for donations for the time being. If you can spare anything, I’d be extremely grateful. Donations under $21 will not have a reward in place, but donations $21 can be payments for sketch head shot commissions. 

You can donate through my ko-fi, or through paypal.

Email me directly (jessie.islas at gmail) to give me information on your request (with the name you donated with and “commission” in the subject header). All I require from you will be a visual reference of your character. You can also choose a background color, otherwise I will go with white, or some color that seems to complement your character. Points 1, 5, and 7 of my TOS apply to these commissions. TOS is agreed upon at time of payment. 

If you’re having a problem viewing the TOS link, please let me know in your email and I’ll send you a copy. 

Please keep in mind these are SKETCH commissions. They will not be fully rendered, but painted in a more loose style. You will still receive the full file size once the image is completed. Turn around can be anywhere from 3 days to a week, depending on my current work schedule.  

I cannot currently offer anything more complicated than these because on top of everything else, my computer is reaching its final destination. Part of the money I make/that gets donated would help to upgrade my current laptop so that it runs like new again and extends its life for at least 1-2 more years. If you are interested in a more detailed commission, the best I can do is accept payment and put you on a waitlist for when my computer is in better working condition.

If you cannot afford a commission, any amount helps, truly. Please consider donating to the links above.

If that is also not possible for you, please consider sharing this post. It really means a lot to me. 

My ultimate goal is around $3000. I realize that is a lot of money (at least it is to me?) but it would help me to be financially stable for the next month or so (not much more than that because I live in CA and living costs are, as always, astronomical) and also help me fix my computer so I can put more work into my art. I have more plans, regarding patreon as well as comics/zines I have been wanting to make for years now. 

If I can make enough to help me last a month without working retail, I can start giving you guys more updates on what plans I have for my art, and ways in which you can help me sustain some kind of (partial) living off of it. 

Also, to be clear, I will never be a pay-only artist. I know some artists do move in that direction and they have their reasons, but I’ve been on the side of things where I cannot afford it, so I understand the distress of not being able to access art all of a sudden because you have no money. That is not my intention at all. I just want to be able to live with peace of mind and also make art while doing it. 

Thank you so much for reading this, thank you in advance for any help you can offer. I’ll be updating this soon with a link that will help explain what my plans are moving forward if I am able to get the help I need. Thank you all again. 

#not art #commissions #please read #long post #donation post

[sugaurora]

Writing Commissions of My Heart

Purchase a Commission Here

Past Commissions

July 2021 — [2 Spots CLOSED]

Moonflower

In a Sky Full of Stars (Coming Soon)

August 2021 — [2 Spots CLOSED]

The Wedding Arrangement

Eternium (Coming Feb 2022)

Prices

500 to 1000 Word One-Shot — $10 USD

1001 to 3000 Word One-Shot — $30 USD

3001 to 6000 Word One-Shot — $60 USD

6001 to 9000 Word One-Shot — $90 USD

9001 to 12000 Word One-Shot — $120 USD

12001 to 15000 Word One-Shot — $150 USD

Over 15000 words — Please message me first

Watch the Writing Process Add-On — $10 USD

A Friendly Warning: My prices are a flat $0.01/word. Beginner professional writers charge more than $0.10/word. Writing is time-consuming and mentally and emotionally taxing and I deserve to be paid for my many hours of work to realize your vision. Don't insult me and my art by lowballing me or complaining about the cost. I will block you without remorse.

Instructions

I only accept commissions through Ko-fi. When slots are available, you will submit the following information using my Ko-fi page here.

Briefly give a general description of your story idea.

If you are requesting a work of over 15,000 words, please message me on twitter or tumblr first to discuss.

Once your commission slot has been reserved, I will send you a form so you can explain your request in greater detail, including group, member(s), fic type (mxr, mxm, mxoc), genre, tropes, tone, setting, time period, characters, etc.

Only one member (for mxr and mxoc) or two members (for mxm) can be the main character(s) in the story.

Make sure to include the best way to contact you in your commission request. You may also reach out to me on twitter or tumblr.

Terms

I will stay in contact with you throughout the writing process to provide updates and ask for any additional details I may need to complete your commission.

Writing commissions may take anywhere from 1 week to 2 months or more, depending on the length and detail of the project requested. Your patience is appreciated.

If you request NSFW/Smut, you must be over 18 years old.

Some off-limits topics include non-con/dub-con, rape/sexual assault, physical abuse by a member, beastiality, underage including high school au, pedophilia, scat play, etc. If I'm not comfortable with your topic, you will either need to modify your request or I will refund your slot.

As you are purchasing a work of creative fiction that will use my creative skill and vision as a writer, I do not offer refunds once I have started working on the project.

If the story I create goes over the word count range you paid for, you will not be charged any extra for the additional words.

You may decide if you want your request posted publicly or not. It is also your choice if you would like to remain anonymous or be credited. I will retain all ownership and reserved rights of all commissioned fics. Public fics will only be posted to my AO3 account, sugalights, and linked on my tumblr account, sugaurora.

No editing, copying, translating, reposting, or false claims of ownership/authorship of commissioned fics are allowed.

All personal information will remain confidential.

You agree to all of these terms upon purchasing a commission from me.

— Former Writing Requests thread

#masterlist #writing commissions masterlist

[jaimistoryteller]

2019 Wishlist

Greetings All & Blessed Be I hope this finds you having a wonderful season thus far. My name is Jaimi, I am an indie author, who is fighting for disability due to a combination of physical and mental health complication, working on trying to figure out how to get a bookstore, farm market & artisan craft store up and running at the same time. It's a bit of a balancing act since my health means I can only work rarely, and I planned for others to actually do the majority of the work. It's also a balancing act as it can be used against me. While there are amazon lists, do not feel like you have to get the stuff from amazon. Instead, if you have some of it floating around, know where you can get it for cheaper, or simply don't like amazon, I have no issues providing an address to send it to! I can be contacted on here or by email at [email protected]. Since this list will cover several different people, I am not going to post the addresses here for safety reasons. I've had a stalker in the past, so now I like knowing when I give it out. That said, here are my requests for myself, friends and family. 1. Amazon Wishlist house supplies for Shelk & boys. She's a single mom, with two sons. While she got a job a little earlier this year, and it was supposed to become permanent in November, it's rather up in the air due to the business recently being sold, and the new owners are considering changing out staff. That means every penny she makes goes towards food, lot rent (which she is paying catch up on from when she was unemployed) and the utilities. If you'd be able to save money by buying the stuff you want to send or have some of it from stocking up and want to share, message me for her address! 2. Amazon Wishlist gift ideas for Shelk & the boys. Shelk loves to read - fantasy, romance, and stuff with happy endings mostly, but since she doesn't have a device that can do ebooks, she does paperbacks. N (elder nephew - 10 years old) is getting into science, enjoys reading mysteries and spy stuff, likes the Marvel heroes, and has recently started journaling & keeping a planner that he likes to decorate with stickers! J (younger nephew - 5, years old & turns 6 the day before Christmas) adores mindcraft, building blocks, play money, food, stickers, or house stuff (all of it from the cooking to the mechanics stuff), and cars! There is a combination of toys they have requested, plus things they have not but have shown interest in the past on the list. 3. Amazon Wishlist Food or Full Cart for Rachel & family . Rachel takes care of her mom and helps her aunt, while dealing with her own health issues. She's been told she's not qualified for disability because she didn't work enough and is not old enough, even though she has had progressive issues that are following along the same route as her mom's. There are three people in the family. All food from the Omaha Steaks company done on one order gets a single shipping cost from my experimentation, making it cheaper to do multiples rather than singles. 4. Amazon Wishlist gift ideas for Rachel & family. All three members of the family are into crafts. When living with disabilities, it's best to find what brings you joy. For them, it's creating things. They love all sorts of crafts, everything from planners and scrap books, to knitting and sewing, to coloring. It is not uncommon for them to save up their change to get craft bags from ReStores. Craft bags are pieces of fabric, random things of thread, and other odds & ins to make stuff. Sometimes they find larger things of cloth to work with, and other times not. no matter what the craft material, one of the three will come up with something for it. The only thing is it has to be perfume free as all three are allergic to perfumes. There is also a collection of gift cards, to allow them a chance to spoil themselves, some are food related, some are store related. 5. Amazon Wishlist hobby and gift ideas for my ma. She had a stroke in 2008, since then she has been struggling to discover who she is with the disabilities it left her. At this time she's working on escaping an abusive relationship, where her partner has a bad habit of treating her like a burden and useless. It's broken her self esteem the rest of the way, along with worsening her depression. I am trying to help her find things that she will enjoy, that she can do rather than simply sit and think of that which is lost. 6. Home Depot or Lowe's Gift Cards! All four houses have various projects that need to be worked on. Shelk - trying to finish replacing the bad plumbing and molded insulation to keep her home warm for the boys and herself, there's a few other things that need dealt with too. Jaimi - trying to replace old and raggedy carpet with floor tiles, also has plumbing that needs fixed, two base board heaters that are glitching, and a window in need of replacing. Pattie (my ma) - needs a new dishwasher so on bad days she can put the dishes in there and use it, needs to fix the sink, and do something with the carpet. Rachel - kitchen sink and counter totally needs replaced, bathroom sink needs fixed, a few other random things. 7. Amazon Wishlist for me, cause yes besides the necessities of repairing the house, there is some fun stuff I'd love to get but can't bring myself to use my bill money for. Any and all art supplies, whether they are on there, from a thrift store, extras just laying around, or from a dollar store are welcome! I have yet to come across an art supply I cannot use in some way. 8. Cards and letters - any of us, plus I know that myself, Rachel, Paula, Dawn, and Pattie will send thank you cards for them. Addresses will be provided on request! they don't have to be fancy, expensive, or long. It's nice to get little cards from people. A little sign that we're not alone over the season, when sometimes hard times and health problems strike the worst. 9. I have a service dog named Winston who I am making payments on, there is still $1,300 left on him. The sooner I get him paid off, the sooner that money goes back towards the bills. Any help towards that would be appreciated. I can provide the loan company and information who would like go that route, there is also my Ko-Fi, PayPal email ([email protected]) or GoFundMe for those who prefer that method.

[ID: Winston the Rottweiler service pup at the vet]

10. Say something kind to a stranger when in public. A simple "you look nice" or "lovely smile" or "I hope you have a good day". It can make a huge difference and only takes a few seconds to do. There is too much cruelty in the world, so it spreads a bit of cheer. Thank you all for taking the time to read this long list! I will be going through and trying to do what I can with my limited income. May your season and year to follow be wonderful! Jaimi

PS - this is copied over from the Dreamwidth Holiday Wishlist exchange, I figure it doesn’t hurt for me to post it in both spots. 

#wishlist #help need #amazon wish list #Holidays #any help appreciated #long post

[therisingtithes]

Help Me Keep Making

tl;dr - A Black queer poet needs your help so he can continue making art and advocating for marginalized voices in fandom!

Hello, everyone! I’m Brandon O’Brien, an Afro-Trinidadian queer poet, science fiction writer, game designer and teaching artist. 

It’s been a while since I have said a thing here… since the Content Wars…

*stares out of a window wistfully*

*shakes head vigorously*

But i figured I’d say hello and bring you up to speed on some of my latest stuff! 

Some of you may have read some of my work before. If you haven’t here’s a couple of things I think you may enjoy: 

‘drop some amens’, a violently hopeful poem of mine in Uncanny Magazine; 

an essay about masculinity and the first two seasons of the Lethal Weapon TV series (spoiler: there’s a Lethal Weapon TV series) in Fireside Magazine; 

also in Fireside, ‘Due By the End of the Week’ is a short story about a magical girl who also just wants to pass Sociology; 

‘Papa Bois and the Boy’, a poem in Reckoning about a boy falling in love with the guardian of the forest; 

another fantastic love poem, ‘time, and time again’, is about a romance that neither death nor time can destroy; 

and ‘The Howling Detective’ is a short story about a man who discovers that just because you change form at night doesn’t make you the monster;

[ETA] and in the same vein as how people’s cruelty gives birth to monsters, another poem of mine, ‘Elegy for the Self as Villeneuve’s Beast’, also in Uncanny.

This year is a big one for me. I’m working on my own big tabletop RPG project! Soundclash is a game of music, magic, and sticking it to the man, and I can’t wait for it to be ready for playtesting in a few months. Learning under Avery Alder through her Emerging Designers Mentorship program has been a great boon, and I’m excited to share what’s come of that work. In the meantime, I have a lot of small games I’ve been working on that I would love to share, including a future update of my Emotional Mecha Jam game Lovers In Freefall, a game about lovers defecting from a terrible space war and fighting for their right to be free.

I’m also writing a serial novel! How To Unmake It In Anglia is the story of Agent Ben Paragraph, a detective in a world where lies immediately become reality and any little hyperbole and idiom has the power to cause real damage. A member of the branch of public safety that polices acts of fabulism, Ben takes an extra assignment so he can avoid coming to terms with a personal trauma. Little does he know that what was just supposed to be a search for a missing college student has spiraled into a conspiracy involving folklore-nationalists, a threat against local government, and one of the oldest and most dangerous fables ever written…

I have a lot of very strong feelings about this story, and I’m really grateful to Scott Gable at Broken Eye Books for offering me the chance to tell a story this weird and intense. If you want to read this story, it’s unraveling chapter by chapter on Broken Eye’s Patreon, and will be collected into one text very soon! 

I have a podcast now! It’s called Righteous Kicks, and it’s where my co-host Iori Kusano and I ramble intensely about the Japanese television franchise Kamen Rider and its abundance of heart, silliness, and divekick-triggered explosions.  

I have also been thoroughly enjoying my work as the poetry editor of FIYAH: A Magazine of Black Speculative Fiction, which is in the middle of its third full year of publication, and was recently nominated for a Hugo Award for Best Semiprozine! 

I’ve been working at a lot of other secret things as well, including a one-person poetry show that I can’t wait to talk more about! 

But I also need some help. My freelance writing and performance work is how I pay the bills, and a few unexpected expenses kicked my butt in the last few months. 

I’m also trying to get to the 77th World Science Fiction Convention in Dublin, Ireland so I can represent FIYAH at the Hugo Award Ceremony, and generally be a public representative for Black and Caribbean voices in science fiction and fantasy fandom. I’ve been invited to Big Bad Con in California as well, so I can represent there, talk about tabletop as a medium for immersive consciousness-raising, play some neat games, and join the myriad other creators who enjoy Big Bad as a community of visible marginalized RPG players, makers, and fans. 

I want to be able to take my work to those places and represent for my communities in ways most other people cannot. It’s hard enough for most marginalized people to have opportunities to be visible in these spaces, let alone the additional degree of magnitude it is to travel from outside the US. That kind of invisibility makes it hard for people to recognise that there are communities outside of the realm of most folks’ assumptions that have fandoms that care about the work that’s being made here not only as fans, but as fellow creators. It makes those on the inside suspect that the outside aren’t invested in those fandoms, and it makes folks on the outside feel just a little bit more unwelcome and outsider than they deserve to feel. 

So I’m asking for your help to get there! 

If you would like to support me and my work, you can do so in various ways! 

I have a Patreon page, where I post exclusive writing that only my patrons see, as well as access to my smaller tabletop RPG projects, first peeks into some of my performance and writing work, and more! 

You can also make a one-time donation via PayPal or Ko-Fi to get me to these goals! 

And if you want to see some of my game design work and play it with your friends, I also have an Itch.io page where I sell my smaller games! 

[ETA] If you want to support while also getting your hands on all of my small games, I’ve put up a fundraising game sale where you can get five RPGs for as little as $5!

Thank you for reading and sharing this! Thank you for your assistance in keeping this year’s dream alive, and I hope that you find something valuable in the work that comes out of this year’s effort. 

Love and Light!  —Brandon 

#Brandon O'Brien #speculative fiction #speculative poetry #tabletop game design #performance poetry

[xxmisty]

email [email protected] or send me an ask to buy a commission!

Hi everyone! I’m Mist, I’m a disabled transgender artist from the UK and I’m opening up commissions for the first time. I’ve been unable to work for the last couple of years but spent 2018 rebuilding my art skills after a long hiatus and I’m ready to take on some projects! I work in lots of different styles depending on what kind of art you're looking for. You can check my art tag for more examples of my work: http://xxmisty.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art

~ Special discounts available for the first few slots :) ~

I love drawing anything fandom related, and whilst i’m a member of a ton of different fandoms already i’m also more than happy to tackle projects for pretty much anything I’m familiar with and I'm happy to draw your OCs, fursonas (or other -sonas) etc :)

Prices:

Prices are an approximation because every piece of art is - and should be - different!

Prices start at £8/$10 for a quick outline sketch or £15/$19 - £20/$25 for shading or full colouring (like Spider-Gwen above), up to full portraits (like the thirteenth Doctor, above) for around £40/$50 (head & shoulders) or £70/$82 (full body in detail)

B/W detailed illustrations (like Hagrid) will cost between £15/$19 - £40/$50 depending on the situation, how many characters are involved, backgrounds etc.

Extra characters, backgrounds etc may alter prices.

Also available for icons, avatars, YT thumbnails, all kinds of illustrations

Basically, if you tell me what you want then I'll give you a definite price and pour my energy and effort into creating the art you want.

About Me:

My health has meant that I've been unable to work for the last two years and I'm struggling to make ends meet after facing a sharp rise in medical costs at the end of last year. I take on average 10 different medications per day, often needing in excess of 40 tablets every day plus various other medical devices to improve my quality of life. I suffer from fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, endometriosis, migraines, narcolepsy, cataplexy and a handful of other physical conditions as well as severe anxiety and PTSD. I'd still always managed to find a way to work to support myself but three years ago I developed meningitis for the first time which basically levelled my health at zero. Unfortunately that wasn't the last time either (I had no idea you could even have it more than once) and recurrent meningitis is still very poorly understood. I suffered several further bouts since then, the latest of which was in November last year. I've been left with permanent damage and both my sight and hearing are deteriorating. This is likely my last chance to make a living from my art.

I would be extremely grateful for any support... If you can't afford or don't want a commission that's absolutely fine! But reblog would definitely help a great deal. If you know of someone who's been looking for someone to buy a commission from perhaps you can nudge them my way ;)

I also have a ko-fi page so if you've enjoyed my art and have a couple of pounds or dollars to throw in the pot I'd be SO grateful! https://ko-fi.com/xxmisty

I 've also started a patreon and will be posting a bunch of extra unseen art there in the next few days: https://www.patreon.com/xxmisty

Any questions? Hit me up and I'll do my best to answer!

[email protected]

#commissions #commission #artists #commissions are open #open commissions #my art #about me #my health #i would be so grateful for any support guys #you're awesome

[septi-art]

Art, Artists, and Community Interaction

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. It’s something I think both artists and people interested in consuming art should take the time to read. It’s a discussion worth having. 

[Disclaimer I’m basically spit-balling this, and it is based on my own experiences and perspective. This discussion and advice may not be universal.]   

Having interaction with your audience/community is something that I feel is incredibly important as an artist. When you make art you need to be marketable, you need to sell. This isn’t universally true but if people aren’t seeing your art, somewhere along the line, something has gone wrong. There are multiple factors that go into your success as an artist of course. Things like work ethic, self improvement, and the core foundation skills you use to create art in the first place, are fairly obvious factors. However once you’ve made a drawing your work isn’t done. You still need to show it. You still need to sell it. Otherwise you’re not really a successful artist, right?

It gets lengthy under the cut, but please take the time to read through this and consider sharing it. I put time into this and would like for it to gain at least some visibility. 

From my experience there’s more than a few factors that play into your success. Your audience, your business sense, and your ability to interact with your community as an artist however, really stand out as important to me. And all three are linked very closely to each other. Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I want to touch on specifically the first and last elements on that list. Business sense is important, but it relies entirely on the artist to understand how business and entrepreneurship work. Community and visibility do not. 

As an artist you depend on your audience and the community surrounding your work, however large or small it may be. I know that personally I have several friends who I can rely on to support my work. They may be a small network of people, but they are in the notes on almost every post I make on this site. As an artist I want to see this network grow. If I spread my community it makes me more successful as an artist, and this benefits me a lot as someone who plans on using my art as a source of income. As someone who has yet to break into the professional setting, my options are limited to freelance work and private commissions being my major sources of accessible income. Freelance work and getting commissions can rely heavily on reputation and visibility. This is why I (and many other artists) need a community.

Growing a community is something that takes time and effort. And it’s something that I believe requires the artist and the audience to sort of meet in the middle. Realistically though, growing a community is primarily the artist’s job. In day to day life, as a consumer, it’s not my job to advertise a product to myself. A company wouldn’t just give me a product and tell me that if I like it, and want more of that product, I need to try to get my friends to buy it too. In the same way, forcing the audience to sell the artwork they consume is not practical, and just straight up won’t work. As an artist seeing people only hit the “like” button is frustrating because it limits my exposure, but also it’s not that person’s responsibility to hit “reblog”. Just like it’s not a consumer’s job to sell the products they want. However art isn’t quite like say, Pepsi, or a pair of new shoes. The audience shouldn’t be passive in their consumption of art. After all art at it’s core is interactive. 

This is where community and interaction really come into play. I both need and desire to have people care about my artwork. But getting “popular” is slow. Gaining an audience, is slow. Early on in your art career your visibility is very small, and no one knows who you are. You have no reputation, and no incentives for your audience. You need something to sell them on.

For someone to want to be involved more actively in consuming art they need to have a reason to care. This is why fanart is so popular, this is why web comics and artists with long running series do well. They have a product people can identify with or learn to identify with (this is why my Dark Souls sketches I may have drawn in an hour have several hundred notes and my personal work I spend days working on gets no traction comparatively). 

This just shows that on some level, for an audience to care, art has to have an immediate appeal to a person. This is either based on personal taste (what art really stands out to you?), or by appealing to a group of people as a whole (drawings video game or TV characters from popular franchises that people love). I feel that being able to do both is important. Bring in people based on topics or themes they know already, and hopefully they stay because you have a body of work outside that they like as well. And outside of your artwork, appeal to them even more by showing that you have an accessible community. That you care about the fact that they like your work. This is something you can do through community outreach, by doing things like:

Drawing things you know people will like, it doesn't have to be your entire body of work but it helps to make your content relatable to your audience(which I mentioned already).

Make and post art frequently. 

Streaming your artwork on places like YouTube and Picarto.

Show works in progress (WIPs), or show how you make your art from time to time.

Interact with other artists (draw together with them Google Hangouts are great for this, this post might be helpful for that). 

Create a system to reward people for involvement in your community, Patreon is a good way to do this.

Another way to reward interaction is to let the community have some influence in your content (polls and contests).

Set up a way for people to make small donations, it’s better than undercutting your prices. it’s more affordable for people who care but aren’t just full of money. Using a Ko-fi button is good for this.  

Post to as many sites as you can.

Respond to feedback now and then 

Posting with regularity, and making your content accessible with links to where you post attached is also a smart idea. Make it easy for people to find where you put your art.  

Just because it is the artist’s job to build and “curate” their community doesn’t mean that the community itself should be passive. If you are seeing art, you are interacting with it. And if you are interacting with it, even for 10 seconds, it took hours and hours of effort on top of years of practice and learning just for the artist to let you see it for those 10 seconds. Even mediocre artists often have spent a large amount of time trying very hard to get as far as they have. No one should have to try that hard not have some kind of payoff. This is why your support as a consumer matters so much.  

That being said a consumer’s job isn’t to sell the product. But being passive in your interaction with art really doesn’t benefit anyone. The largest form of this I see is people hitting the “like” button, and nothing else. Doing that is like walking up to a street vendor and telling them you like what they’re selling, and then walking away. Consumer interactions like that mean that while you get to see the art, the artist now has a smaller audience (I’m basically saying likes on posts essentially do not matter from a practical perspective). 

And yes, it’s not your job to make the artist’s community larger, but it’s worth considering that you can. But then again, why should you if it’s not your job, right? By being active in your consumption you can join a group of people who are a network that truly supports an artist and will benefit both the artist and you. If you interact with the art you appreciate, and especially with the artist, you increase your chances of seeing more art you like. it doesn’t even have to be monetary contributions. 

So how can you help out, how can you be active in an artist’s network? Here are some things you can do:

Hit “Reblog” instead of “Like” (it’s easiest thing you can do and involves almost no extra effort) 

If you see art you like, find out who made it. More often than not, they have more like it. 

Follow artist’s streams. 

Ask questions. 

Leave comments. As long as it’s not rude or negative just say something in response. 

Give money if you really, really, like the art. Support on Patreon, Commissions, or even just one or two dollar donations are all super important. 

if you can, just learn about art! broaden your appreciation for it. It can even be fun (seriously art history is crazy). 

[Keep in mind that not all artists will interact with you or their communities the same, use good judgement. This post is all coming from someone who is talking about smaller artists working independently or freelance, and trying to build a following on an online platform like Tumblr.]

But like I said, your job is at the end of the day, to just be an audience. You can do whatever you want. You can hit “like” and keep scrolling, I won’t stop you. I won’t be surprised or upset even. But if you really like a piece of art, if you care about art in any way, keep this discussion in mind. It’s really important. Art can’t exist without an audience that supports it.    

TL;DR - As an artist, reach out to people and actively make yourself visible. As an audience member, interact and support artists you like. 

#art #art discussion #art resource #artist resources #artists on tumblr #artist community #septi art #god this took forever to type up #long post #sorry if you're on mobile