bump!
Tirtouga | FR +16 | she/her
Art Sales
For commissions and flat-sale of your creative efforts.
TOPIC | The Starfall Shop (PWYW lore/art)
Hey! Do you do lore for dragons with little/no writing?
Hey! Do you do lore for dragons with little/no writing?
@littletoes101
Hey there! I'm not too sure what you mean by little/no writing, would you mind elaborating? :)
Hey there! I'm not too sure what you mean by little/no writing, would you mind elaborating? :)
@littletoes101
Hey there! I'm not too sure what you mean by little/no writing, would you mind elaborating? :)
Hey there! I'm not too sure what you mean by little/no writing, would you mind elaborating? :)
Tirtouga | FR +16 | she/her
@Tirtouga678
Hi :)
I'd like to order a +- 500 words lore for any dragon in my main tab.
They don't have any lore yet. So you can give them a job, a personality a mate, whatever you want. Go wild! :) Pick whoever spikes your inspiration most.
Would 25 kt/gems be acceptable?
Hi :)
I'd like to order a +- 500 words lore for any dragon in my main tab.
They don't have any lore yet. So you can give them a job, a personality a mate, whatever you want. Go wild! :) Pick whoever spikes your inspiration most.
Would 25 kt/gems be acceptable?
@Tirtouga678
Hi :)
I'd like to order a +- 500 words lore for any dragon in my main tab.
They don't have any lore yet. So you can give them a job, a personality a mate, whatever you want. Go wild! :) Pick whoever spikes your inspiration most.
Would 25 kt/gems be acceptable?
Hi :)
I'd like to order a +- 500 words lore for any dragon in my main tab.
They don't have any lore yet. So you can give them a job, a personality a mate, whatever you want. Go wild! :) Pick whoever spikes your inspiration most.
Would 25 kt/gems be acceptable?
|
PWYW art-shop - Open! Rowan's Gijinkas - Closed |
@Rowan00
Hello! Do you have any specific dragon you want lore for? Otherwise I’ll just pick a random one :)
I might not hit 500 exactly, might be a little more or less, but yea 25kt/gems is good. Thank you!
Hello! Do you have any specific dragon you want lore for? Otherwise I’ll just pick a random one :)
I might not hit 500 exactly, might be a little more or less, but yea 25kt/gems is good. Thank you!
@Rowan00
Hello! Do you have any specific dragon you want lore for? Otherwise I’ll just pick a random one :)
I might not hit 500 exactly, might be a little more or less, but yea 25kt/gems is good. Thank you!
Hello! Do you have any specific dragon you want lore for? Otherwise I’ll just pick a random one :)
I might not hit 500 exactly, might be a little more or less, but yea 25kt/gems is good. Thank you!
Tirtouga | FR +16 | she/her
|
|
PWYW art-shop - Open! Rowan's Gijinkas - Closed |
@Rowan00
Whoop, I’m done. This is for Xylem! I was inspired by her name, because in our biology syllabus xylem cells are case studies and we learned about their adaptations and functions and stuff. So... enjoy!
They say xylems are hollow, dead tubes within a plant that transport water from roots to leaves, and provide mechanical support to the plant. They say xylems are integral to a plant’s survival.
But they’re dead. No matter how important they are, they’re dead, encased in layers of lignin that gradually cut off their air supply until they lose that spark of life, becoming hollow vessels. It’s impossible for her to feel anything else other than the constant feeling of just being physically, emotionally, dead. She works herself to the bone doing all the odd jobs for the clan - healing, delivering and most importantly, keeping the clan together.
Just like her namesake.
She has often thought that it is only a matter of time before she becomes entirely like an actual xylem tube.
Whatever she does seems to drain her more and more. No one appreciates her work. Whenever she screeches to a halt at the entrance of a den, wings and tail in a tangle in her hurry to deliver the item on time, no one comes out. She waits and waits and waits until her next task looms on the horizon and she goes. Without any acknowledgement. As soon as she leaps into the sky, a rustling is heard and when she looks back, the item is gone.
Perhaps her clan is just shy. Perhaps she’s just too… new. Perhaps she doesn’t understand them well enough, doesn’t know what they actually feel. She can’t help but feel a little bitter, though. Every task gone unnoticed feels like an extra layer of lignin hardening on her scales and feathers, another emotional burden to weigh her down. What did xylem cells do to deserve this fate of slowly, slowly lignifying?
One day a young hatchling limps into her healing den. He’s badly scraped up, and a wing is bent at a weird angle. A stab of pain rushes through her heart, and she moves to help him into the nest of grass and leaves to start her treatment. She applies herbs to his cuts and scrapes, and gently works her magic until the muscles in his wings loosen and she’s able to coax his wing back into its normal position, securing it with vines and a branch.
She leans back to survey her work. The hatchling looks a lot better now, and smiling she pats his head and ushers him out. He’s still a little pale, but when they reach the entrance he spins around and gives her a sparkling smile. She’s taken by surprise, but smiles back. A layer of lignin cracks and falls to the ground like shattered shards of a cocoon.
“Thank you,” the hatchling burbles before stumbling out on unsteady legs. That’s the first time anyone has ever thanked her. It feels... good.
Xylem smiles, and feels something in her warm.
Whoop, I’m done. This is for Xylem! I was inspired by her name, because in our biology syllabus xylem cells are case studies and we learned about their adaptations and functions and stuff. So... enjoy!
They say xylems are hollow, dead tubes within a plant that transport water from roots to leaves, and provide mechanical support to the plant. They say xylems are integral to a plant’s survival.
But they’re dead. No matter how important they are, they’re dead, encased in layers of lignin that gradually cut off their air supply until they lose that spark of life, becoming hollow vessels. It’s impossible for her to feel anything else other than the constant feeling of just being physically, emotionally, dead. She works herself to the bone doing all the odd jobs for the clan - healing, delivering and most importantly, keeping the clan together.
Just like her namesake.
She has often thought that it is only a matter of time before she becomes entirely like an actual xylem tube.
Whatever she does seems to drain her more and more. No one appreciates her work. Whenever she screeches to a halt at the entrance of a den, wings and tail in a tangle in her hurry to deliver the item on time, no one comes out. She waits and waits and waits until her next task looms on the horizon and she goes. Without any acknowledgement. As soon as she leaps into the sky, a rustling is heard and when she looks back, the item is gone.
Perhaps her clan is just shy. Perhaps she’s just too… new. Perhaps she doesn’t understand them well enough, doesn’t know what they actually feel. She can’t help but feel a little bitter, though. Every task gone unnoticed feels like an extra layer of lignin hardening on her scales and feathers, another emotional burden to weigh her down. What did xylem cells do to deserve this fate of slowly, slowly lignifying?
One day a young hatchling limps into her healing den. He’s badly scraped up, and a wing is bent at a weird angle. A stab of pain rushes through her heart, and she moves to help him into the nest of grass and leaves to start her treatment. She applies herbs to his cuts and scrapes, and gently works her magic until the muscles in his wings loosen and she’s able to coax his wing back into its normal position, securing it with vines and a branch.
She leans back to survey her work. The hatchling looks a lot better now, and smiling she pats his head and ushers him out. He’s still a little pale, but when they reach the entrance he spins around and gives her a sparkling smile. She’s taken by surprise, but smiles back. A layer of lignin cracks and falls to the ground like shattered shards of a cocoon.
“Thank you,” the hatchling burbles before stumbling out on unsteady legs. That’s the first time anyone has ever thanked her. It feels... good.
Xylem smiles, and feels something in her warm.
@Rowan00
Whoop, I’m done. This is for Xylem! I was inspired by her name, because in our biology syllabus xylem cells are case studies and we learned about their adaptations and functions and stuff. So... enjoy!
They say xylems are hollow, dead tubes within a plant that transport water from roots to leaves, and provide mechanical support to the plant. They say xylems are integral to a plant’s survival.
But they’re dead. No matter how important they are, they’re dead, encased in layers of lignin that gradually cut off their air supply until they lose that spark of life, becoming hollow vessels. It’s impossible for her to feel anything else other than the constant feeling of just being physically, emotionally, dead. She works herself to the bone doing all the odd jobs for the clan - healing, delivering and most importantly, keeping the clan together.
Just like her namesake.
She has often thought that it is only a matter of time before she becomes entirely like an actual xylem tube.
Whatever she does seems to drain her more and more. No one appreciates her work. Whenever she screeches to a halt at the entrance of a den, wings and tail in a tangle in her hurry to deliver the item on time, no one comes out. She waits and waits and waits until her next task looms on the horizon and she goes. Without any acknowledgement. As soon as she leaps into the sky, a rustling is heard and when she looks back, the item is gone.
Perhaps her clan is just shy. Perhaps she’s just too… new. Perhaps she doesn’t understand them well enough, doesn’t know what they actually feel. She can’t help but feel a little bitter, though. Every task gone unnoticed feels like an extra layer of lignin hardening on her scales and feathers, another emotional burden to weigh her down. What did xylem cells do to deserve this fate of slowly, slowly lignifying?
One day a young hatchling limps into her healing den. He’s badly scraped up, and a wing is bent at a weird angle. A stab of pain rushes through her heart, and she moves to help him into the nest of grass and leaves to start her treatment. She applies herbs to his cuts and scrapes, and gently works her magic until the muscles in his wings loosen and she’s able to coax his wing back into its normal position, securing it with vines and a branch.
She leans back to survey her work. The hatchling looks a lot better now, and smiling she pats his head and ushers him out. He’s still a little pale, but when they reach the entrance he spins around and gives her a sparkling smile. She’s taken by surprise, but smiles back. A layer of lignin cracks and falls to the ground like shattered shards of a cocoon.
“Thank you,” the hatchling burbles before stumbling out on unsteady legs. That’s the first time anyone has ever thanked her. It feels... good.
Xylem smiles, and feels something in her warm.
Whoop, I’m done. This is for Xylem! I was inspired by her name, because in our biology syllabus xylem cells are case studies and we learned about their adaptations and functions and stuff. So... enjoy!
They say xylems are hollow, dead tubes within a plant that transport water from roots to leaves, and provide mechanical support to the plant. They say xylems are integral to a plant’s survival.
But they’re dead. No matter how important they are, they’re dead, encased in layers of lignin that gradually cut off their air supply until they lose that spark of life, becoming hollow vessels. It’s impossible for her to feel anything else other than the constant feeling of just being physically, emotionally, dead. She works herself to the bone doing all the odd jobs for the clan - healing, delivering and most importantly, keeping the clan together.
Just like her namesake.
She has often thought that it is only a matter of time before she becomes entirely like an actual xylem tube.
Whatever she does seems to drain her more and more. No one appreciates her work. Whenever she screeches to a halt at the entrance of a den, wings and tail in a tangle in her hurry to deliver the item on time, no one comes out. She waits and waits and waits until her next task looms on the horizon and she goes. Without any acknowledgement. As soon as she leaps into the sky, a rustling is heard and when she looks back, the item is gone.
Perhaps her clan is just shy. Perhaps she’s just too… new. Perhaps she doesn’t understand them well enough, doesn’t know what they actually feel. She can’t help but feel a little bitter, though. Every task gone unnoticed feels like an extra layer of lignin hardening on her scales and feathers, another emotional burden to weigh her down. What did xylem cells do to deserve this fate of slowly, slowly lignifying?
One day a young hatchling limps into her healing den. He’s badly scraped up, and a wing is bent at a weird angle. A stab of pain rushes through her heart, and she moves to help him into the nest of grass and leaves to start her treatment. She applies herbs to his cuts and scrapes, and gently works her magic until the muscles in his wings loosen and she’s able to coax his wing back into its normal position, securing it with vines and a branch.
She leans back to survey her work. The hatchling looks a lot better now, and smiling she pats his head and ushers him out. He’s still a little pale, but when they reach the entrance he spins around and gives her a sparkling smile. She’s taken by surprise, but smiles back. A layer of lignin cracks and falls to the ground like shattered shards of a cocoon.
“Thank you,” the hatchling burbles before stumbling out on unsteady legs. That’s the first time anyone has ever thanked her. It feels... good.
Xylem smiles, and feels something in her warm.
Tirtouga | FR +16 | she/her
|
|
PWYW art-shop - Open! Rowan's Gijinkas - Closed |