okay here's the thing with this post

faironstern  asked:

i have seen a lot of people reposting your work they always say it's yours but i can't find half of the things they do, do you have any other site where you post everything? i tried going through hasthags but i can't find half of it :(



Okay. Well. 

  • I post pretty much everything here on tumblr (LINK). 
  • I do post sketches and works in progress on my twitter (LINK). 
  • And I have some art that I’ve done for my comic over on plusKJ (LINK)

It’s possible that what you are seeing is artwork that people have scanned from one of my books, in which case I may not have it posted online. It is also possible that what you are seeing is artwork so old that I’ve since cleaned it out of my very full tumblr. But I haven’t done a cleaning like that in a long time so this is pretty unlikely. But yes, this tumblr and my twitter are the best places to find all of my work. I try to keep things all in one place because I want them easily found.

Now, lemme sidetrack.

 When people repost work that I’ve been paid to do, it doesn’t bug me much. I’ve been paid for it and I consider that artwork to be out there- not just mine. I don’t mind (well I mind, but I’m resigned) when people repost these things as long as they credit me (and a link back to me would be best!) The bad part about this is that I don’t get to see how popular the images are. I don’t know what people like. When things are reposted, I don’t get to see the audience’s reaction. If it gets barely any notes on my own blog, I assume it was received badly and I won’t draw it again, or much. I’ll move on and draw things that I perceive people are more interested in seeing. So keep that in mind, people, when you repost my work. 

Every once and awhile I get a message like this and it’s pretty depressing. People say things like “I finally found you! I’ve seen your art all over and only just now found out who you are!”. It’s sad. It means people throw my art all around and never credit me. I want people to find me, I want to share my work with you. It delights me! Please help people find me by crediting me and linking back to my original post!! 


OKAY if you’re trying to fuck a celebrity (which good luck you’re chances are low) YOU DON’T SHOW UP IN LINGERIE WJWJI WIJDJ  AND JUST EXPECT THE PERSON TO JUST LET YOU IN. 

I mean everyone can do whatever the hell they want but this is sad.

oh and another psa, groupies now vs groupies in the 80s ARE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS. They don’t do that same shit anymore.

idk the real point of this post but that really just confused me today.

here is a tip……a celebrity might show interest in you if you don’t look like a “fangirl” or a person interested in them. I’m not a professional but if you’re in the same place as a celebrity you probably shouldn’t be so obvious. Of course they have to be attracted to you which is something you can’t control.

Thats just my tip…how do you think I got to fuck Bob Duncan(JK OMG)

Okay, so going with the idea that a (domesticated) animal could look like a monstrosity and Besany would still coo at it and call it sweetheart, see this post, considering Ordo’s canonically very narrow definition of cute, can you imagine them running into people’s weird-looking pets together.

#someone: What IS that THING?!??!?!! Besany: Is baby!!!! [kissy noises]

Yeah, well, someone here is Ordo.


i was tagged by @irl-melchior to post 7 selfies from 2017!! thanks!
i don’t know why this is going around because it’s only july and i thought this was more of an end of the year thing?? but it’s nice to see everyone’s beautiful faces as they do it!!

slavic languages gothic

You see a sentence written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.

You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.

There is a sentence in Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.

You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.

P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.

The Croatian sentence does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.

That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence.
Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.

Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.

You see a word in a dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in your sleep. You wake up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.

This word means the same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language. The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.

H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.

One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.

You write my name is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right letters.

N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?

There are nine different prefixes you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape of one of its middle consonants. You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth. You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.

You now read a text in Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes, the meaning searing your mind.

There’s a shot of vodka in front of you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.

Pray for Marawi, Philippines

As I write this post, Marawi City in the Philippines is being besieged, burned, and taken over by Maute group*.

Colleges are being burned
Firetrucks have been overtaken
Hospital staff are hostages
Women are being taken
Soldiers are being shot at
Some have already been critically injured
Exits are being blocked

*erratum – previously cited as ISIS; corrected to reflect that the real group responsible is reported to be Maute group (an unrelated group to the MILF or ISIS)

(ATM. WE ARE NOT OKAY HERE!! Let’s be true and not fool the media about what’s happening atm to our place. There are things burning in the town and we’re not hearing any Fire truck sirens or what. And now lights are out and were hearing gunshots again. May God be with us through this hardships.)

(updates from our friend in marawi…

the city jail was burned
Dansalan College was burned
The church near Barangay Paypay was burned
isis is all over marawi
there’s a brownout right now
took over the fire station in Rizal)

I just need enough of you to dull the pain, just to get me through the night until we’re twins again

gavin saying “i need fire” to get out of zipties and trevor going “okay, see, no you don’t actually, fire and indoors and you is strictly forbidden and bad and not happening” while lindsay goes “yo i got fire gav you want me to hook you up” and lighting the zipties directly against his skin on fire is the most team losers thing to ever happen


you’d fly with me

doodled a handful of scenes from my latest klance fic bc i’m predictable like that

So, serious talk.

How is anyone supposed to both have a full time job and be a solo 1d fan?

Like… how?


This is inspired by the fact I can’t pay attention in my LA class. Enjoy!

Human’s can’t pay attention for shit, okay.

I’m not talking about ‘oh I zoned put for a minute whoopies daisy’ but forgetting what you are doing in the middle of doing the exact action. Human’s have such complicated brains, right? So, theoretically, we be able to concentrate for hours at a time. But nah. If our brain registers something as boring, it attempts to nope situation, because we need stimulus. If we don’t get it, our brain tries to force us to do other things - even if we can’t.

There was another post around here about how Aliens could hyper focus on certain tasks to get shit done (gotta hunt that down later for credit but its 12 am and im tired sorry) and how human’s being inpatient could confuse them. What about how human’s can think about multiple things at once? Like ‘No, Ari'ik, I’m not just making dinner at 7pm! Steven Universe comes on and I’m definitely not missing that. My nephew is being dropped off started. I need to have a play pen set up. My little sib is going to a sleep over and needs to be dropped off by 8. I have to pack eveyones lunches, clean the house, do the dishes, wash laundry, shower, and be in bed by 9.’ Don’t get me started on stuff like homework because I could probably rant until my lips fall off.

I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but sometimes my brain wants to procrastinate so badly my words literally run into each other. A quick example of this; ‘And so Franny Devut is the true heroine of the story despite WHOISTHEMAIDWITHTHE BUTTERCUPHAIR her questionable WHOSLEEPSONMOONBEAMSANDDANCESONAIR methods of WITHTEARSMAIDOFHONEYANDAHEARTFULLOFBUNNIES obtaining WHOSINFINATEDVIRTUESAREKNOWWIDE IN FAAAARRRRRRRR information! ITSMEWNISOWNDEARESTOURPRINCESSSTAR’ I could easily see aliens sending in their small, day-dreamer human friend for an infiltration mission. The human gets capture for interrogation, but the mind reader can’t tell if they’re telling the truth or not, because who the fuck thinks about chocolate cake when standing in front of two intergalactic tyrants.

Feel free to add on to this if you want, it’s pretty short!


A: Honestly, after everything that’s happened the past few months, I could use a vacation.
K: Let’s do it. Let’s go on a vacation, just the two of us, anywhere you want.
A: Really? Okay. I’ve always wanted to see what the Spirit World’s like.
K: Sounds perfect.

Happy Two Year Anniversary, Korrasami fandom! (Dec 19th) °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ °

anonymous asked:





  • This twitter account live-tweeted the event!!


@poulerslashes​‘s fic sore must be the storm did things to me

Through his shock, a cold thought occurred to Midoriya, tamping down any other reaction he might’ve had to such a confession. “Todoroki,” he said firmly. “Don’t give up. We’re getting out of here.”

“I’m not giving up,” Todoroki said. “I’m only considering all possible outcomes.” His tone grew quiet again. “And I just…I wanted to know that I told you. At least once.”

Dream Daddy: Robert Small

On a Friday night, you are most likely to …

make a deal in an alleyway. Have it go badly. Who’s the cop? Was it giacomo? I trusted giacomo

If you had one thing to take with you onto a desert island, what would it be?


What are your turn-ons?

don’t talk to me

What did you want to be when you grew up?


What’s your favorite movie genre?

italian neo-realism

What’s your ideal date?

grave robbing

What do you never leave home without?

at least four knives

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

you ever really look into a rabid animals eyes