Today will be the last day I log in to this account for socializing. Anything you need, I suggest you hmu within 12 hours. Wishing ya’ll the very best in life. ❤
I’m getting more and more questions about commissions and prices, and I realized that it is time to write information in all resources where I posting art.
- Commissions are currently closed
- I do not have a queue for commissions, it is difficult to organize because of inaccurate forecasts for the future X}
- I plan to organize an auction on the Deviantart, in my journal here https://www.deviantart.com/ostinlein/journal/
I will post detailed information about this in a few days.
I apologize that I do not answer everyone personally.
!!The most detailed information about commissions appears in my journal on DeviantArt https://www.deviantart.com/ostinlein/journal/ !!
Commission for NeonR0se!
the entire gang shares 1 (one) braincell which they takes turns passing around
unwilling teammates gradually grow on each other
Area Man Forcibly Adopted by Several Children
bonded over shared trauma
none of us have actual families or homes to go back to anymore, but at least we have each other
“every single one of these guys has tried to kill me at least once, but we’re cool now and i’d trust them with my life”
redemption arc comes with bonus new family and friends (bonus feature is non-negotiable and eventual acceptance inevitable)
i WAS going to leave the group and go my own way as soon as this job was over - and i would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for my meddling heart!
villains with Feelings™
Officer I Swear I’ve Never Met Any Of These People In My Life (But If Anything Were To Happen To Them I Would Kill Everyone Here And Then Myself)
*gets sidetracked* *tells the DM how good they’re doing* *muffled yelling about each other’s characters* *gets sidetracked* *tells a player how good they’re doing* *makes a meme during the session* *inside jokes* *falls in love with NPC* *interrupts DM with a joke* *interrupts DM with something sad* *gets sidetracked* *is gay* *gets emotional over PCs* *found family* *gets emotionally intimate* *gets sidetracked*
This account will be going inactive oct 31st; however it will be left intact to keep my artwork somewhere safe for viewing. Cheers and thanks for the follows.
To elaborate: I’m moving to a new account, under a new name. It will be a ‘hard reset’ for me. Only very close friends will be pm’d Oct 31st from my new user.
This account will be going inactive oct 31st; however it will be left intact to keep my artwork somewhere safe for viewing. Cheers and thanks for the follows.
time to play a game of ‘do i have mental illness or am i exaggerating possible symptoms’ as i slip down the slope. my life has no depth and no one likes me and i don’t need to be here.i’m just kinda there and no one can shake me off. i talk too much, i’m too whiny, too needy, too bitchy, too annoying. i could stop existing and everything would be just fne. i dont make adifference. no one needs me. i dont even need me.
I don’t like sling it’s hard to work with??? But w/e I finished it and now I’m gon’ sleep this bitch be tired.
-
Apprehensively, Essätha picked up the bundle of netting; watching it stretch and cascade down into a pile at her feet. She went from eyeing it, to looking up to stare at the proudly grinning nobleman. His chest was protruded, a look of delight in his face that couldn’t be denied. He looked as eager as she did when they went to the candy shop.
“I don’t know about this, m’lord. Have you ever put one of these up…?”
“Well, no. But don’t you think a hammock will be nice?”
Oh with that smile, how could she not be? In fact, she was smiling now too, though had no recollection of wanting to. He was just so easy to be happy around. His joy was a magnet, and she tuned in to chase his frequency wavelength and go crashing into whatever ideas escaped him.
Unable to help thinking of how cruddy it was going to feel laying on a bunch of rope weaving that looked like fishnet, she nodded. “I guess we could give it a try…”
“Exceptional- now, I’ve just the place in mind for it…”
Gathering the hammock and some hooks, they headed out back of Illiad manor. The further out they went from the house, the more Essie grew weary of this project.
“We’re not putting it close to the house…?”
Amon shook his head, still grinning. “I have a more private location in mind, and a good view, too.”
So she followed, curious but still unsure. They made it to a couple of trees a comfortable distance apart, nestled near a groove. Looking back, they had to be at least forty meters away from the back of the household.
“Aren’t those screws going to hurt the tree?”
“No; judging by Abe’s knowledge, anyway. The tree will grow around them, like an extra limb.”
Anchoring the suspension hooks to the tree took the majority of the time. There was only so much ‘screwing a tree’ jokes she could make before it grew bland (the first joke had been bad enough), so she sat crisscross on the grass and waited. She pulled dandelions up and twirled them in her fingers; tying their steams together into knots to make a bracelet. She laid down to check the clouds, and part of the way through trying to decide if the one she was looking at now was an ochre jelly or grey ooze Amon called for her assistance.
“You hold this end,” he instructed enthusiastically. “I’ll sling it up over here first.”
“You’re testing it first.”
“You don’t trust me?”
She pouted. “That’s not fair.”
The nobleman chuckled. “I can test it first, Essie. No trouble. Though maybe I should have had Abe install it…”
Her smile turned flirty. “From first hand experience, your screwing abilities are top notch.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if these innuendo puns are you trying to lead us somewhere else.”
She giggled, and turned to the side to avoid his playful little smirk. Stare too long, and she’d be entranced into more mischief and sniggering.
Amon latched the first end, and gave it a few tugs to check the tension and strength of the cord. He seemed satisfied after a few tries, and came over to accept her end on the other side, attaching it to the other clasp. It was just shy of two feet off the ground, and had just enough dip and slack to be able to climb into without it immediately rolled. She hoped, anyway.
After double checking both sides, he met her eyes. “Moment of truth.”
She hovered near the edge, hands clasped and wringing in front of herself.
He heaved one leg in. Then, balancing, he threw himself into the hammock. It rolled; it jostled, and he nearly tipped out the other side before alarmingly throwing his weight around to balance it out, rolling into the center of the ropes.
Triumphant, the Illiad heir smirked at her. His hand extended; an open appeal.
“Join me?”
She hesitated, staring at the sunken hammock. Was the swing going to be able to harbor both their weights? Or was the sling going to fall? What was the worst case scenario here? She ends up on her butt, she muses. Perhaps it’ll be uncomfortable, and she’ll end up sore with some rope burns, marks, and chaffs. Her foot could get stuck between the knotted holes, or shoves an appendage in his groin during the struggle to get in.
None were detrimental.
Sighing, knowing she wasn’t going to reject his invite, she stepped closer. Her hand slipped in his.
“What do I do now?”
“Roll in- I’ll catch you.”
She knows there is doubt in her eyes now. But his are pleading, and ardent.
Essätha tentatively rests a knee against the edge; baring no weight to chance tipping or rolling her husband off. Then, in a single big step, she tosses herself into the hammock.
Amon grunts as their bodies connect; a winded exhale escaping him. He cradles her against her chest as the taunt sling sways and bounces a few times, before settling. Her squinted eyes open all the way. Well, it hadn’t snapped or thrown them off yet.
“Just in time, too,” he remarked warmly. His fingers tilt her chin, bringing her attention vertical. “Look.”
Her breath escapes her slowly, watching the setting sun, and the strands of stars begin to take over the sky. The foggy outline of a distant asteroid belt began to take its shape as twilight began to approach.
The view was enchanting atop the hillside, away from the treetops that obscured most of it.
With a softly murmured exhale of appreciation, Essie twined her fingers through his hand, and rested her head against his chest. Much of her was stretched out in length against him like a satisfied cat; burrowed into his side.
“Better than sitting in the itchy grass?”
“I was sitting in the grass a while ago, and it wasn’t so bad,” she defended. “But this is nice too. Very romantic.”
He grunted, soothing a free hand down her back. “Could use some pillows.”
“And a blanket.”
The nobleman chuckled, and the hammock rocked side to side as they shuffled and rearranged upon it. Silence enveloped them once more, and they watched the colors bleed in and out on the canvas skyline in content silence, only the rising of their breathing and the last chirps of birds playing as the crickets came out to strike up their band.
no lie i had a campaign where I tried playing a really chaotic neutral “leave me alone” rouge and ended up attached at the hip to our monk who couldn’t roll higher than a natural 10 to literally save his life bc in our first encounter he called my character “a nice lass” and that was all it took
More poetry than prose? Idk it’s more filler thoughts than anything but it’s moving and I like it even if it’s a weird style.
-
She is different. The world has always reminded her of this. People treated her differently for it all her life. They were resentful; blaming, distrusting. Snakes weren’t looked upon for their pest-control population, but for their appearance that was associated with devils. Creatures of poison and danger.
“What’s it like, being a Yuan-ti? Are you cold-blooded? What’s up with your bones? Can you unhinge your jaw? What about”
She’d heard these questions; and others, dozens and hundreds of times. She is an oddity; a freak, a misfit. She’s learning to accept it. She’s not obligated to answer them; though she had few answers herself.
“You are Essätha Meduza, and that is all that matters.”
Yes. She is herself. Not her race, or her history, or magical influence predicted or influenced who she was. She believes him. Social structures and whispered jests be damned, she is worth so much more than their hate.
She is worthy of respect and love. She is soft, and gentle, and bubbly, and nothing can take that away from her. This feeling of confident. It feels refreshing. He seems to be just as proud of her, too. It’s in the way he beams at her; chest out, lopsided grin, twinkling eyes. It boosts her faith. She likes this look on him, too. The broken pieces of shell around the man he let out. He is not so much outcast as he once believed; worth more than the misfortunes he tripped over in his past. He is hope, strength, trust, loyalty. He is the spitting image of joy when you look up the definition.
She tells him he is her guiding star to turn to when times are rough. Reliable, steadfast, bright and comforting. He leads her home. He is safety. He is hers.
She can tell he enjoys this notion, being hers. He is all aching want, tender fingers feathering against her hands. Smother her palms. Trace up her arms. Oh how she jumps; all goosebumps and yearning. He is a foreign world she’s immersed in. Fascinated. He’s beautiful. The construction he makes with such careful hands; such brutal hands she has seen break others with such violent bruising hate, so very very gentle with her. Hold her heart steady. Hold her flighty eyes steady. She is steadily rooted with him, yet constantly in motion.
There is a crowd but she only feels his heat. Only hears his words, in her ears. Something in her; past the rapid escalation of her heartbeat, or her breathless lungs, or the weightless emptiness seizing her chest cavity, is reaching for that unspoken word. She wants to curl it around her tongue but she doesn’t know the word. She prays he knows it. She wants to hear him say it; wants to taste it on his lips. Oh the very idea makes her head spin, her knees knock, her face flush.
She is different. She’s okay that he’s different, too. Maybe he’d be alright if they blend their differences together. They could paint a new future with their own colors, and see where it leads.
The Winter Solstice would soon be upon them, and with it, an annual celebration. Most people took the opportunity to spend time with family and went to intimate, small parties. There was gift giving, and devious mistletoe placement, and garland strung over fireplaces. Homes smelled like baked goods, and decorations softened the atmosphere of an otherwise dreary, cold season.
Essätha never got to enjoy such festivities, but they were indeed a heartwarming way to spend an otherwise dreadfully cold day. She particularly enjoyed the sweet treats, and the hours she could convince her nobleman to cozy up by the fire. It was becoming a welcoming nightly tradition.
An older custom; one rarely used these days, was to uproot a pine tree and plant it indoors for the winter season. It was a sign of good fortune if the tree survived under the temporary care, before it would be returned outdoors in the spring. It was also used for planting gifts beneath for those who lived in the same household; sometimes even anonymously, and was not uncommon for the tree to be adorned with trinkets.
Draping the tree in shimmering tinsel and adding embellishments was Essie’s favorite part. Some were simple, some were elaborate; some were bought others made by friends, by herself, by the staff. It was a symbol of unity, and every so often she would loop some wire and make a new piece to add on to the small tree and its few but growing décor scheme.
Placing another on the tree; this one a wood plaque she had crudely carved an ourobros into, she turned towards the smell of chocolate wafting her way. An endearing smile greeted her, along with a steamy mug.
“Spiced hot chocolate?”
She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Spiced with what, m’lord?”
“Chile pepper. It’s supposed to add depth. Why? You thought I was bringing you a different sort of spiced?”
“There are spiced rums…”
He snorted with disbelief as she took the beverage, cradling it in both hands to warm them. The nobleman’s eyes ventured to the little tree; only about as tall as she was. He placed an arm around her waist as they each sipped from their drinks quietly.
“It looks nice.”
“You can say it, it’s barren.”
“Mmm. Maybe I can fix that.”
She raised her eyebrows, watching the usual whimsy of a grin lighten up her husband’s features and dance in his gaze. He took a step aside, his cloak swishing near the floor as he sat down his drink to produce a small box from the satchel hanging loose at his other side. Amon offered it out to her; a small box wrapped around a shiny parchment covered square.
Her eyes narrowed as she reached for it, allowing him to take her mug. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Curious to the eagerness in his tone, she untied the ribbon and lifted the top. Essätha fished out the small sphere inside to turn it over.
“It’s an ornament.” She paused, scanning the transparent surface. “There’s a message inside?”
Amon nodded eagerly. “Squeeze the top to ease the tension on the springs, and jostle it out.”
She did so, passing him an eyeful and a suppressed smile. He was in a full-blown grin now; waiting with little refrain from squirming.
Shaking out the message-in-the-ornament, Essie read the small note in an excellent penmanship font: ‘Essätha, love of my life, there is no gift greater more rewarding and fulfilling than having you in my life. You are my wish, today, tomorrow, and always.’ Below the message, the date of their marriage earlier that year, and the current date, marked with a small heart on either side
“Oh… Amon…”
He moved closer; his cologne of cardamom, leather, and saffron mixing with the burning warmth of wood. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” she breathed, leaning into his side. She stood up taller to give him a peck on the cheek. “I love it. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year…”
“Only 283 days, darling, but whose counting?”
She snickered at his fond smile resting her head against his chest, so he could wrap his arms around her while she tucked the note securely back in the ornament. It was the best Winter Solstice day she’d ever had. She blinked rapidly, her eyes misty with emotion. She was ecstatic for day 284, and every day that lay beyond that.
He made every day a day worth living and appreciating. What could be more worthwhile than that?
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