Looking for ttrpg work! ♿⚔️🗡️

So sorry to have to keep sharing this, but we need to be able to make rent this month (which is £800). My partner doesn't hear back until next month about the jobs he's applied and interviewed for unfortunately, so anything helps to make ends meet. Thank you and, again, sorry 💜

I'm open for freelance contracts and urgently looking for any work. All my stuff is via LinkTree, and my work email is the best means of getting a portfolio from me as I have an updated one I send out to people saradisabilityrepinttrpgs@gmail.com 👍

So sorry to have to keep sharing this, but we need to be able to make rent this month (which is £800). My partner doesn't hear back until next month about the jobs he's applied and interviewed for unfortunately, so anything helps to make ends meet. Thank you and, again, sorry 💜

Going to be making a new one of these soon, but it still stands that I'm urgently looking for work in the #ttrpg sphere. I can still be contacted via saradisabilityrepinttrpgs@gmail.com

Thanks 💜

My partner recently lost his job and I am still unable to find work. If you've ever used the Combat Wheelchair in any way, please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi. It would really help a lot. Thanks 💜

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy smiling with his eyes closed and using a finger to stretch his cheek out cartoonishly far

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy looking over his left shoulder at the viewer, his cheek smushed up against his arm with a small smile

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy looking straight on at the viewer with a mildly surprised look on his face

have you ever seen a boy so full of joy and whimsy?

#onepiece #myart

I might open commissions for some pieces like this if people want? 👀

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy smiling with his eyes closed and using a finger to stretch his cheek out cartoonishly far

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy looking over his left shoulder at the viewer, his cheek smushed up against his arm with a small smile

Digital art of Monkey D. Luffy looking straight on at the viewer with a mildly surprised look on his face

have you ever seen a boy so full of joy and whimsy?

#onepiece #myart

Still not finding any work currently, my partner is still trying to find a job, and we are struggling a lot financially. Anything helps. Thanks 💜

Still not finding any work currently, my partner is still trying to find a job, and we are struggling a lot financially. Anything helps. Thanks 💜

Whilst I do have the concepts and rules already written down, they're very rough around the edges and not ready for any playtesting yet. Hopefully that'll be resolved next weekend though! :)

Hoping to have a playable draft of a selection of premade combat wheelchairs ready by next weekend (around the 28th) and they'll be up on my Patreon to check out! 👍 #dnd #ttrpg

My partner recently lost his job and I am still unable to find work. If you've ever used the Combat Wheelchair in any way, please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi. It would really help a lot. Thanks 💜

A bit too soon unfortunately, it will need to align with the v4 of the Combat Wheelchair officially releasing and it's looking like that still might be a couple of months away. Otherwise that would've been a great time to get it all put together!!

Just throwing some ideas around. I'd like to make it a whole weekend thing where other #ttrpg with #disability rep can also run some games for charity, too! So things like Cyberpunk RED, Daggerheart, Pathfinder, indie games, etc. That way a range of DMs/GMs and players can get involved...

Thoughts?

Just throwing some ideas around. I'd like to make it a whole weekend thing where other #ttrpg with #disability rep can also run some games for charity, too! So things like Cyberpunk RED, Daggerheart, Pathfinder, indie games, etc. That way a range of DMs/GMs and players can get involved...

Thoughts?

Hopecore

Sometimes the tasty snacks are worth the pain 😅 haha

I also really want to figure out doing something with charity when the v4 Combat Wheelchair comes out. Maybe some sort of one shot #dnd game where all players are wheelchair users playing characters that use the combat wheelchair? That could be cool!

An image of a painting displayed against a white wall with pieces of pottery in front and on shelving beside. Full description on next image.

A bright, expressive seascape painted in oils. A rich palette of golds, greens and blues depicting waves breaking into a beach in the foreground; mist lies above calm water behind, with a headland rising to the right hand side. The sky is bright blue, with warm white and gold clouds, also reflected off the surface of the ocean.

One of my favourite paintings: Song of the Sea, oil on panel, 50 x 60cm (available). Message me if interested.

www.artachart.com/available-work

I've started baking again to have something to do when writer's block is really bad (and when my pain and stuff allows for it). It's been helping to prevent burn out which is nice 💜

I love baking but hate how badly it screws up my joints for a week afterwards. Made some egg custard tarts and meringues though lmao

Time again to share my Stock Art Artists starter pack (with focus on TTRPG).

go.bsky.app/2khFm1H

If you happen to fit the bill, let me know.

If anyone has any experience making character sheet layouts for #dnd or any #ttrpg content, what programs do you use in order to make them? I'm hoping to incorporate a sheet for the Combat Wheelchair v4 and am looking for some advice from people with experience because I'm lost lmao 😅

Partner has lost his job and I am still not getting any work currently, so things are looking even worse now. I am actively seeking working in the ttrpg community, whether it be as a writer, editor, or sensitivity reader.

Please contact me via my email: saradisabilityrepinttrpgs@gmail.com

Going to have to send out another batch of applications to literary agents tomorrow. Fingers crossed someone this time around will give my book a chance 🤞

“Who’s there?!” His voice trembled, caught, pitched up at the end and broke off. It would have been embarrassing, if he wasn’t half out of his mind with fear. Staring, he couldn’t make out anything between the trees, but the footsteps were still approaching, getting closer. Closer. Closer. His finger gripped a little harder around the trigger, knuckle turning white. But he didn’t shoot, couldn’t shoot - not yet, not without a clear target. The shadows were growing longer, reaching, grasping, eyes he couldn’t see peering out, boring into him from the darkness. And for the first time in years, Cian Daniels felt small. Tiny. An ant in a world too large for him, danger at every turn. There was a buzzing in his ears, vibrating in the night air, frantic and getting louder with every passing second - just like the footsteps, getting closer. Inescapable despite the field that now lay spread out behind him. The field where Erin’s body lay. Unmoving. Bloody. Cold. Dead. “Who’s there?!” He screamed, echoing out into that unforgiving darkness where the shadows coalesced and started to writhe, taking on new form. A shambling mound, a tangled mess of protrusions, piled up on top of one another. Two large eyes that felt like a thousand, reflecting moonlight back so that they appeared like silver discs, wide and cold. His heart was working overtime, faster than he’d ever felt it, pulse frenetic in his neck, hard enough he could feel it in his wrists too, racketing against his ribs so intensely they could give way. Finger on the trigger, ready to press down, to fire, to protect himself if- the buzzing getting louder- he was gasping for air, face wet- oh, God, he was crying- crying- and- It was a deer.

Its head breached the treeline first, large and docile. Round, big eyes staring dully ahead, right at him. Taking him in, assessing, appraising. A deer. It was just a deer. Relief. So powerful it almost sent him keeling over, knees buckling, legs shaking - a flush of cold coursing through his veins. Finger slipping from the trigger, finally relaxing until- Until it stepped from out of the woods and into the light. Loose flesh wobbled on its stilt-like legs, joints distorted and bulbous, folding backwards with each stumbling, precarious step. Hooves were bent inwards, as though walking on its knuckles, and its antlers… Twisting hands made of sinew and flesh and barbs of bone - each tine a writhing, flexing cluster of broken fingers, feeling at the air with jerky movements. Flesh and fur sloughed in some places, was pulled too tight over others, fit uncomfortably snug against bony protrusions, dangerously close to splitting wide open at any given second. It dragged itself towards the fence, a half-formed mass of viscera hanging where its abdomen should have kept the organs inside, sliding wet and loose against the ground, snagging branches and foliage and stones. Cian had heard stories of deer attacked by coyotes or wolves, practically torn to shreds but somehow still clinging on - like they didn’t know they were supposed to be dead. Pitiful, dreadful things, baying and bleeding and limping until someone took it upon themselves to put the poor creature out of its misery. But this deer wasn’t crying out in pain. Its organs hung out of a cavity hollowed from its body, but it wasn’t bleeding. As it stared at him from across the fence, antlers writhing, breaths heaving, pale grey tongue lolling out of its mouth, he came to a horrible realisation - one that couldn’t be possible, but still sunk in the pit of his stomach with a finality to it that he didn’t like. It wasn’t a deer.

His finger once again grasped at the trigger, a sound halfway between a gag and a scream spilling from his mouth. Oh, God. Oh, God… He wanted to vomit again, stomach pitching violently. Static screeching in his ears as the deer- it, whatever it was, opened its slack mouth. Rapid cuts of sound, like twisting a tuning dial on the radio, flickering between stations - sparking white noise, clips of voices and scraps of music; notes and words careening like disembodied wails. And finally, stood there with its mouth agape, it began to speak - words shaped without a tongue or teeth moving to do so- “You weren’t supposed to see.” “What?” If he thought he was terrified before, then there was no word for this feeling - bone deep fear that threatened to swallow him whole. Whatever this thing was before him, with its baleful eyes and haunting voice… it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right - it wasn’t supposed to be here. It shouldn’t exist. His hands were shaking. Shaking so badly. / Don’t you recognise me? / There was a crack, deep and painful, followed by a wet slide of flesh. The deer’s face folded in on itself, snout crumpling up and caving in. A twisting, writhing, nonsensical mass that shuffled and distorted with a sound not unlike pulling one’s foot out of moist, sucking mud. Eyes twisting to face forward, grey-green irises and red hair. Fur falling inwards and disappearing in favour of smooth, pale, freckled skin. A deer’s body but a humanoid face. Profane and vile and enough to make Cian want to turn away. But he couldn’t - couldn’t look away as a mouth, drawn up painfully at the corners, suddenly smiled at him; filled with far too many teeth and red, bloodied gums. But there was no mirth in it, just teeth, bared and threatening. A perverse mockery of the original. It was wearing his face.

“You weren’t supposed to see,” It said, and its voice was agony and despair, and painful, ugly truth. He was staring at something so incomprehensible, so earth-shatteringly other in the face and he was petrified. Mind unable to make sense of it, unravelling, desperately trying to clutch at straws in the hope he could keep his head above the water. / Afraid of your own face, Cian? / “What- what are you?” The gun was heavy, his arms felt weak. The words he spoke were small, frail things. Another pop of bone, an upheaval of too-malleable skin - fixing together all the parts of an entirely new face. One Cian had never wanted to see again in his life. A face associated with blackened hand prints and bruises that ran deeper than just flesh. He could smell the stench of cheap scotch and cigarettes - of a heavy cologne with too much spice that made him retch. A smell that had once clung to every surface of his childhood home, like it could mask the stink of booze and make pretend that the household was a happy one - that it wasn’t the one place in the world Cian was terrified of going back to every day after school; that he didn’t spend as much time in his room as possible trying to avoid what he knew was inevitable. For just as much as his father’s cologne was soaked into the foundations, so was his anger and bitterness - his resentment that his wife had died and not his useless son. Useless, cowardly son. / I know what you fear. / Still as useless and pathetic as he had been back then. The gun was no longer a comfort. Instead it had become another thing for Cian to hide behind, like his bedroom door when he’d managed to get there in time to barricade it, cowering in the gap between his bed and drawers until his father’s rage had cooled to a simmer and the footsteps had long since disappeared down the hall.

Realised that I've never actually shared any of my horror novel that I'm trying to get published with you guys. So, check out this weird deer 🦌

(tw: body horror, past abuse)

Deco D20 Dice Etched Scotch Glass - Nix's House Of Glass's Ko-fi Shop 12 ounce Scotch Glass etched with a custom negative etched Deco D20 design. I machine cut and hand weed all of my vinyl resists Etched in a sandblast...

Still working towards this months bills.

If you're in the market for some gaming glassware and would be interested in helping a crafter survive. I have these Art Deco D20 scotch glasses in stock!

cheers!

ko-fi.com/s/26b0dbb1d1

A red miniature dachshund and a dachshund-lurcher cross lying curled up together on a fluffy blue-grey blanket bed. They are both fast asleep.

Cuddle time with Obi-Wan and Anakin 💜