I am accepting commissions. This is the first time I have done this in ten years. Here's how it goes:

Finished sketch: $10
Inked drawing: $20
Coloured drawing: $30

For examples of my work: [link]

Promptness guaranteed.
Price negotiable.
Msg me here or email me skauthen at-that-crazy-gmail place

Keep in mind, I am anticipating character sketches. If you want me to draw an elaborate background, multiple characters, or a fleet of X-wings, I may be required to charge a higher fee

If you are not interested, consider passing this along to friends. I have won a highly coveted exchange position that allows me to study at a university in London for a year. However, I cannot go if I can't get the moola together. Thanks for stopping by! <3

There was a time when I had nothing to explain
oh, this mess I have made
but then things got complicated
my innocence has all but faded
oh, this mess I have made

And I don't believe in god
so I can't be saved
all alone as I've learned to be
in this mess i have made

All the untested virtue
the things I said I'd never do
least of all to you
I know she's kind and true
I know that she is good to you
she'll never care for you more than I do

But I don't believe in love
so I can't be changed
all alone as I've learned to be
in this mess
I have made the same mistakes
over and over again

There are rooms in this house that I don't open anymore
dusty books of pictures on the floor
that he will never see
he'll never see that part of me
I want to be for him
what I could never be for you

Mess, Ben Folds Five

"The Hour" by Michael Lind

Maybe the moment recurs daily at six, when commuters,
freed from the staring computers,
elbow and bump in unsought intimacy on a station
platform with you, and frustration
rots what is left of your strength. Maybe the hour comes after
dinner, when televised laughter
seeps from a neighboring room; maybe the time is the dead of
night, when you ponder, instead of
dreaming. Whatever the time, you will escape it—by sinking
down with a book, or by drinking
secretly out in the dark studio, or by unbuckling
pants on a stranger, or chuckling,
one with a mob, in a deep theater. Soon, though, the hour
comes to corrode all your power,
pleasure and faith with the damp dread that it daily assigns you.
How you evade it defines you.