QUICK COMMS INFO OVERVIEW (more info, links, and examples below):

illustration/character art: sliding scale, 5 USD at the lowest for sketch, fullbody full rendering 55+ USD animatics/animations/video edits: 150 USD per minute with minimal video editing, increase from there music: 60 USD per minute with minimal instrumentation, increases from there, negotiable for longer soundtrack work

FURTHER INFO, LINKS, EXAMPLES:

i am a transgender 18 yr old, and recently got kicked out of my abusive parent's house. i was fully dependent on them for food and housing, and i am currently trying to figure out where to stay and what to do! i am trying to make and save as much as possible. I draw furry art and podcast fanart primarily, here is an old, preexisting commissions sheet for my visual art: https://www.tumblr.com/facadethedog/799808293592809472 here are some art examples, you can peruse this very account for a LOT more:

you can see further detail on animatics prices and examples here: https://www.tumblr.com/facadethedog/813559561951887360 and here for my most recent animatic!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Alrhi45uhg

you can find further detail on music comms here: https://www.tumblr.com/facadethedog/801705401495257089 and listen to/buy my preexisting music here: https://facademusic.straw.page/

DM ME ON TUMBLR OR ON DISCORD (@/CYNOCEPHALOPHORE) IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!

While it is not as much of an emergency, I am still not in secure housing. Currently I am staying in a bunk, and have not yet managed to find a job. I would like to continue trying to get commissions, but turn it into a more stable source of income alongside whatever work I manage to get.

HERE'S HOW YOU CAN HELP WITHOUT COMMISSIONING:

I have started posting to more social media in hopes of sharing my art more and finding more opportunities. You can now find me at any of the following links, and if you do follow/subscribe/whatever verbiage the website uses it will be a big help.

additionallly, ive been posting projects on my youtube for a couple of years, there's some exciting stuff coming soon!

you can also support me by sharing or buying my music:

pro wasp propaganda to

spite my phobia

*cools ur dashboard down*

“No age gap??!?!?”

“And no non-con elements”

“NO NON CON?”

“And no coercion or otherwise manipulative behaviors”

“Joe they want a vampire with NOTHING”

Be the one to cut his hair. Be the one to see his face and tears when he looks in the mirror. Be the one to throw his gifted jewelry into the river and watch the look of freedom on his face.

Take him to a club. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy or even adult - just a simple hangout. Get him a drink if he wants one and dance with him if he says yes.

Be his first kiss. His first hug. The first one in this new body and mind of his.

This month is the one year anniversary of posting my poem “Condolences” to TikTok and Instagram, where it amassed millions of likes and tens of thousands of comments.

Since, people have used the poem for adaptive art pieces, short plays, books, and class work. For your piece of art to be transformed into another…it’s difficult to describe.

After several rejections from poetry publications a decade ago, I decided to post my work online instead. The responses were overwhelming. I realized that an official publication doesn’t make you a poet. Writing poetry does, and bonus points if you manage to resonate with just one other soul who needed to hear what you needed to say.

I was utterly taken aback by the response to this piece. People have asked me many times to explain it, but from the response it was clear that the meaning can be explicated with a little time.

Some people who didn’t understand it until it was explained were angry when it came together. It wasn’t written for them.

I’m only grateful that it reached the people who needed it.

I feel that the imagery is part of the piece, but I know not everyone can or cares to listen to a video. Here is the poem:

———————

They buried a girl in my hometown today.

“A young woman, gone too soon, in the prime of her life,” they all said.

My friends and I all knew her. We grew up together.

We were in all the same classes and hobbies and we made up games together at recess.

But none of us went to her funeral. We weren’t invited, because the people planning it didn’t think we’d understand. They said it wasn’t our loss.

So we got together for drinks. We laughed all morning and played card games all day.

At 4 o’clock, we heard the church bells. We saw that long, sad procession of cars stretch like a creek through town, up the cemetery hill.

We heard strange rumors that night, that the casket was empty. That they put it hollow in the ground.

So we went to the plot first thing in the morning. They buried her empty box next to her dad, down the row from an estranged aunt she never really knew all that well.

There wouldn’t be a stone for months, but the little placard had my name on it. But not the one I go by these days.

“How strange,” we all said. “What a waste of good crying.”

All of this mourning for me, and I was down the street the whole time, laughing and drinking.

But some people will never understand. They’d rather plan a funeral than learn a new name.

My friend said she felt sorry for them, in some small way.

What a sad notion—to lose a daughter who never lived—