fictional characters from books, movies, comics, your fanfics (doing stuff you always wanted them to do, or looking fabulous in clothes you want them to wear)
real people, including actors and celebrities, you and your friends/family (perfect for gifts)
real people as fictional characters (for example your RP faceclaim in 18th century clothes, you in full cosplay without buying clothes, yay!)
real people in the company of fictional characters (you and Loki flying into the sunset on a dragon… eghem, you get the idea)
I do draw nsfw scenes. And I won’t judge your kink, I promise. You ship something and want to see some smut with them? Don’t be shy, I can do it. If you have any reference photo of the pose, clothes, face or setting send it to me along with the description, it makes my job easier.
if you want a closer look on my works please visit my DA page: http://sheepskeleton.deviantart.com/ You can also write to me there, as their messages are slightly more reliable. Payment is via paypal. You can see all stages of the work if you wish.
If you have any questions, write to me and I will answer them 🙂 If I am not answering 24 hours after you have sent me a message, please send it again because it means that tumblr has eaten it.
🙂
I highly recommend sheepskeleton for commissions! I commissioned a piece for a tattoo and it’s been stunning work at every stage of creation – literally got teary-eyed over the draft sketch, it was so lovely. So run, don’t walk, and give this artist your commissions and money.
OuO Can we see the tatt (and/or the design)? Share with the class ❤
This is the aforementioned commission – the line art for my Lestat/Daniel tattoo. It is amazing and I love it with a passion of a thousand firey suns. My poor husband has had to put up with me flailing and wibbling with the feels about it all day.
Seriously, anyone that needs a commission, sheepskeleton is who to go to. This is the best thing I have spent money on in a looooong time.
G.O.B.: The real problem is, she keeps saying that God is going to show me a sign. The… something of my ways. Wisdom? Michael: It’s probably wisdom. Episode 3×11 “Family Ties”
Probably best to hang onto your soul. Unless my Paypal account now takes those. You can give it a try. Otherwise, I think I just got inspired to create a Team Armand fanclub.
You can get different stuff for different levels. Like an autographed picture for the standard. Deluxe can get you one of the many appliances he managed to fuck up throughout the years in limited edition quantities. Premium you can nab both items plus attend a yearly dinner hosted by yours truly where he may or may not (probably not ever) show up.
If souls are now payable currency? Hell you might earn yourself all those plus one of those really creepy body pillowcases with his picture on it for all your oddball purposes I probably don’t what to know anything about.
Should there be enough interest in this idea?
…You guys scare me more than I even wanna admit. In a good…you guys are nuts but I love you anyway—way.
First of all I have to say the entire series is sort of jokingly – and endearingly – called the Vampire Crackicles. The crazy is a big part of why we enjoy it. Dysfunctional vampires! The first 3-4 books in the series seem to be the more highly regarded, VC-fandom-wide, maybe bc the crazy was better woven in. We all have our differences in opinion as to what we consider to be canon after that.
Do I think you’ll like the rest of the series? I don’t know what you liked specifically about the first 2 books, but if you did like them enough to reread them, you must also enjoy the sense of humor that’s mixed in with the angst, the love, the overall crazy!
Short answer is give it all a chance, read it in order, and decide for yourself, it’s meant to be fun, it’s not a religion ;]
For more on Blackwood Farm and Blood Canticle, clickez ici:
The books you mentioned have earned a negative reputation partly because they are involved with the crossover of the Mayfair Witches series, and introduced a whole bunch of new characters, when the fandom craved more about the already established characters (like Daniel Molloy!) and that the plots of those stories didn’t seem as engaging as in the first 3-4 books (at least for me, because they were maybe too ambitious or not structured in a more believable way).
Blackwood Farm focuses on a new set of characters (including a few of AR’s Mayfair Witches, it’s one of the 3 books that makes the crossover of the two series) than in IWTV, TVL, or QotD. It’s got some very interesting mythology and you do have Lestat being Lestat, but he’s been through alot at this point in canon and is not the same throw-caution-to-the-wind lovable moron that he was previously. He’s got a gentleness and a snappiness about him.
Blood Canticle is very cracky bc it’s further down the Mayfair Witches crossover story. Now Lestat has very strange religious grappling. It was meant to be the very last VC and you can see Anne Rice tried to pack in as much excitement and fireworks as possible. Sometimes this ended up making the story jump the shark.
Not weird at all, awwww thank u! Such feels, much appreciate. Comments like yours fuel this blog. Ppl may not think so but I do crave appreciate that encouragement now and again, when I begin to feel like I should have moved on to another fandom long ago…
It’s too late for me though, I CANNOT MOVE ON. This is where I have laid my affections. We are a godforsaken fandom… from the fanfic wars to the questionable canon, but still lovable dysfunctional vampires (the main one being a gorgeous blond hamburger-brained suicidal moron), there’s a reason we call it the Vampire Crackicles.
The glassy eyes of the corpse watch me as I try to catch my breath. I came to moments ago, standing in the center of the hotel room, her body crumpled on the floor, bloodless and unmoving. I do not remember this woman with her striped dress and retro hairdo. I have no memory of meeting her or of bringing her here. I don’t even recognize the hotel room. It might be under her name.
Shit, shit, shit.
I shake myself out of stillness. I have to do something. The hotel information on the table tells me this room is in Philadelphia. Last I remember, I was in Charlotte, North Carolina. I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been here. I don’t think the woman’s been dead more than a few hours because blood courses through my veins. I assume it used to be hers. But I’m working with a very limited set of facts. And the thing about hotels is, they don’t let you hole up for days. Eventually, they make you open the door. How long do I have? I don’t know.
The corpse has black hair and fake eyelashes. The stripes on her dress are blue and white. She is—was—pretty. Now she’s a corpse. Beauty doesn’t matter when you’re dead.
I pick up the hotel phone and dial Night Island. There’s no answer. I dial his office number. This time, he picks up. His tone is smooth, all business. All he says is, “Hello.” I slam the receiver down. I pace. I stare at the corpse. She’s watching me.
No, no, she’s dead. Murdered. I killed her.
I do not remember killing her. And this isn’t the first time this is happened.
I swallow my panic. It’s just a body. I can handle this.
What I can’t handle is blacking out and losing time. The cracks in my sanity are spreading like cracks in glass, growing and splintering off in a thousand directions and soon my mind will be shattered to pieces.
I pick up the phone again but this time, I don’t dial. I just stare at the corpse. “I fucked up,” I tell her. But then I amend that statement. “I am fucked up.”
She knew it was true. Maybe it was her last thought.
If I don’t clean up this mess, it may very well be mine.
I-want-my-IWTV 