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Hello fellow art lovers! I am currently open for real commissions! I am going to be going to college in the fall, and as you may know, I'm going to need money. ;D I do regular art and Gaia Avies, just ask me! The paper that it will be drawn on is 8.5inx11in computer paper, so they are fairly big in size.
Here are the prices(I accept PayPal only):
Pencil/shaded
Head shot: $4
Full body: $7
Colored Pencil
Head shot: $8
Full body: $11
I basically do everything. However, if you want a couple picture, you'll need to double the price.
Also a couple of dollars might be added for really cluttered avies. I'm really fair, the art will be high quality and I work hard on each piece of art. I will be putting up examples soon. Tell me if you're interested.
Thanks!
Edit: Example
fav.me/d2vkwff
Here are the prices(I accept PayPal only):
Pencil/shaded
Head shot: $4
Full body: $7
Colored Pencil
Head shot: $8
Full body: $11
I basically do everything. However, if you want a couple picture, you'll need to double the price.
Also a couple of dollars might be added for really cluttered avies. I'm really fair, the art will be high quality and I work hard on each piece of art. I will be putting up examples soon. Tell me if you're interested.
Thanks!Edit: Example
fav.me/d2vkwff
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Degeneration, The Tale of The Prince
12 min read
Human beings are filled with the want for justice from society, life, and nature. It is the way of the world. What goes around will return, as is karma. In time all debts are paid in full. Some people, however, take justices in to their own hands. Justice seems as if it is not swift enough or crushing enough to humans. In some men's eyes justice becomes not but revenge...A vigilante style justice. Nothing good ever comes of it. If one is not careful even the most angelic figures can be consumed with hatred and revenge seeking thoughts. Falling into this pit of despair is a one way ride from which there is no chance of return...ever. Such is the name of this spell.
Spring was at the heels of the royal court as a new born babe entered the world in blue-blooded triumph. He was born on no solstice, with no celestial bodies smiling down upon him, and with no angels playing their strings.
He was as common place and super human as earth and though he was a prince, he was brought up with an astounding sense of modesty and courage followed by his most defining trait, his altruism. How had he not been spoiled by the luxuries of nobility? It was a mystery to all. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he stood in line for the crown fifth from the top. He wasn't to be groomed for the crown he would never lay his hands upon. So, the prince lived his days as moderately as he could. He played, he loved, and he laughed, all within the castle walls.
Such an inquisitive child he was! Always pattering about, studying clovers and lady beetles!
He eventually caught the attention of the royal cook, who took a liking to him as if he was his own son. The prince, a hearty age eight, followed his baking friend like a duckling around the kitchen. He picked up ladles, dishes, and loaves of bread and wielded them like scepters.
The cook got use to his presence. He would pamper the child and look after him, for he was easily neglected. This was true for all days except for one out of seven. This was when the cook went to town with the other attendants of the castle to get the necessary supplies. The prince would worry and cry when he was gone; he thought that he'd never see his friend again. Come the fall of night, though, he would return bearing the fruits of his outings.
The prince would ask countless questions on his where-abouts and the cook would always return with the same answer. "I went out."
"Out where?" questioned the child “Into the courtyard? The grounds? Where?"
"No my little one, outside the castle."
Tears of fear overtook the child's eyes, for nobody ever left the castle (at least to him), then instantaneous wonder. "Take me too!" giggled the child.
Permission was given for the prince and the cook to go on their outing...for what use was the fifth son? So onward they went the cook, child, and servants on a supply cart, to get their wares.
The child became enchanted by the hustle and bustle of real life. Questions bubbled from his lips with stuttering rapidity. However, once they entered the slums, horror dawn on him. The desolation! The despair! All the joyous liveliness left his features as they passed a poor orphaned boy begging on the streets with a sickly pallor.
"Cook! Cook! Why does he look like that? Where are his mama and pa? Why does he beg?"
"He is an abandoned child." replied the cook "I shouldn't have brought you here, come let's away."
Back at the palace, the prince began to throw tantrums that were thoroughly unlike him. He screamed and wept and threw himself to the floor. His kitchen friend rushed to him, trying to calm the tremors.
"What is this, little one? Why are you crying?"
The child collapsed in a heap, tear stained eyes pleading through honeyed locks. "We need to find him. He does have a home. He lives here."
So it was settled, they were to find him with the permission of the royal household. Again went the cook and blue blooded babe out to find the lonely child. They returned to the very place where they first spotted him, but he was nowhere to be found.
The prince called and called until all that remained was a dry whisper of a voice. The sun went to sleep in the sky. The cook began to tire from exertion. Finally, when hope was beyond hope, they sighted a figure amidst the garbage heaps. A small foot, a dirty brow, and desolate figure. The prince stumbled forward, collecting the boy. The orphan understood. He was saved.
The orphan, over time, was nursed to health and he took on a new liveliness. He was home; the prince had saved him. They developed a strong friendship that surpassed their classes. The bliss and love of childhood kindness was impenetrable as they laughed and played in the sparkling vernal dawns.
Had we stopped here, it would have been an ever after. A happy tale. One though, that wasn't of the truth.
Years passed and both boys grew into fine men. The prince became a kind hearted adult; the orphan sprouted into a healthy male. The cook grew old, said his good byes to the boys, and left the palace to join his ancestors.
The prince had been always happy in those days, giving to the poor, helping without gain; he was someone to look up to.
At the same time of the prime of his life his father's was on the decline. The eldest brothers began to fight amongst each other. Who was to take the crown? Who will follow his footsteps? Who would get what? It didn't bother the prince or the orphan; they went on with their days.
"What is to happen to me once your father dies?" asked the orphan
"The same as ever. You'll live here with me." answered the prince
"Promise?"
"Promise. We'll have our fun, throw parties, help your old district...”
The orphan smiled in spite of himself. "You are my guardian angel. Always have been. You've looked after me when others could not. For that, I am forever thankful."
"It has been an honor and has shaped me into who I have been and who I am." said the prince. Embarrassed gratitude settled between them. It would be some of the last kind words they would exchange.
At that moment exactly, his eldest brothers were out on a hunting trip, trying to prove themselves to the king when a troupe of marauders ambushed them. News reached the dying king and he collapsed in despair. All his children had been massacred in cold blood; save for one, the fifth was still in the palace.
The king beckoned for his final son to come see him. His training to become the new ruler was to begin immediately. The prince began to see the orphan less and less, still he was safe within the palace and that was what mattered. They couldn't talk much, but saw each other in passing.
Life began to heavily weigh upon the prince and one morning he got up earlier than usual to meet the orphan. "Dear friend, I know it's been difficult lately, but once I become king and get those murderers it will be the same again." the prince spoke
"How can it?" asked the orphan “I'll make it so." replied the prince
With that promise the prince had to leave to attend to his duties.
One brooding night, not too much later, the king breathed his last icicle chilled breath and the prince was coronated. He was to attend balls, meetings, hunting excursions and the like as new king. He was showered with jade and rubies encrusted with gold.
His old friend stood by smiling, happy for the new king.
Word got around that those who murdered his brothers had been plundering the town. He, although seemingly the same on the outside began to change. He began to tire of all the responsibilities of kingly-hood. Who was responsible for this harsh burden? Who should be punished? Them! He poured his attention into finding them and exterminating them. He bathed in the rewards of being the king, for it was a harsh life and he deserved a bit of acknowledgment. Balls and feasts relieved stress. The orphan saw the change in him, but felt he would get his old friend back as soon as the murderers were caught.
The prince met up with the scum in the old district of where he first met his friend. There were three of the murderous vile men. He slayed all but one.
With the man’s life in his hands he spoke. "WHY??!? Why would you do this? For what pride or purpose? Who sent you?"
"Oh, I don't know. It could be this or that...You...you brought that child in didn't you?" he said slyly. "What makes him so innocent? Maybe you should ask him." it cackled “You did find him here didn't you?"
The king’s muscles twitched unbelieving, killing the man.
He was crazy! He had to be! It couldn't... He paced back and forth. The more he thought about it the more it made sense. It all happened because of him...The ride back he became ever more furious. He didn't realize his line of thinking was on the path of delusional. Revenge and his kill had clouded his judgment.
Little did he know that the marauder was about as sane as he was.
At the palace he jumped off his steed and stormed through the castle looking for the traitor. "You!" he bellowed to the heavens insanely "Are the reason they're dead!"
"Friend, what are you talking about? What happened? Are you okay?"
The king grabbed him and yanked his hair back drawing his blade from the scabbard. The blade bit at his old friend’s skin. "You killed them. That was why you came to live with me isn't that it?!" The king was nothing but a beast with the smell of blood in mind.
"What are you saying? You're not making any sense!"
"Don't mess with me! You schemed and plotted against me! You organized against my family and that is why they are dead!"
"Friend! Friend! Please! You're upset! There is no reason to your words! How could I have done these things? When I first arrived I was a mere age of eight. I've been within the castle for the rest of my life. How could I? Why would I betray a friend?! All this revenge, gold, and power has gotten to you. Please friend, put the blade down!"
"You're no friend of mine." hissed the king as the blade slid down slicing his old friend. The orphan’s body fell, his eyes rolled back, and life departed. For the moment the king felt accomplished. He was rid of all of this. The traitor was dead. He returned to his rooms and slept soundly. Three days passed without event, then came the news.
"Sire! They have found him! The one who plotted against your brother! He has been brought to justice! You can rest!" The messenger gleamed
"How? No! It can't be! He's dead!! I killed him!?"
"Sire?"
"What? Have I...I done? My friend?! I killed..." the king wailed. He knocked over chairs and tables on his rampage. He ran to his chambers, trying to escape the awful truth, but it was like a clinging plague. He looked in the glass and saw he was no longer himself, but some callous murderer. The mirror shattered on the floor as it toppled. He vowed to himself that he would make it up. It was too late, but somehow...he promised. If he didn't make it right...he would have to pay...
He hosted balls and sold away precious jewels to earn money. He gave to the less fortunate and tried to become the man he once was. He even began to smile again.
One night, however, the last he would spend as a human being, the god of justice entered his chamber and addressed him. The king fell to his knees in almost supplication and asked him why he was there.
"You don't fool me. You know why I am here. You unjustly killed your best friend...”
"I've been trying to make it up! I've become a better man!"
"No you haven't. You've just been afraid. You're doing this to save your own skin from eternal damnation. There is no empathy in my heart for your shallow sympathy. All you've done is put a mockery to the man you use to be. This is nothing but a facade. You can't hide what you are now."
"And what is that?" he trembled
"A monster."
"Does this look like a monster to you?" he growled instantly furious "Do monsters wear clothes like these? Do they sit in castles? Do they live like me? Am I a monster?!"
"Yes...you are." said Justice “Just because you are a king on the outside, it doesn't warrant any humanity. You lost that when you let revenge consume you. All you are is as flashy as a peacock with your jewels and power as you rot on the inside. Justice needs to be done for your crime."
"And what will you do?"
"Turn you into what you really are. A monster of wretched beauty. Everyone will see your colors for what they are; look on with frightened awe and disgust. Wear your flamboyant gaudy colors, but do so as you really are..." With a wave of the gods hand the king began to change. The seams on his robes ripped as he grew. The walls crumbled into powder as he burst through them, the color of fire brandishing his skin. The people looked on with horror, the same horror that resided in his old friends eyes when he drew the blade down. They screamed and fled. The king was himself, a monster. Today he haunts the place of his downfall in all the shameful glory he represents, amidst the ruined castle forever tethered to the earth. Just as he deserves.
Spring was at the heels of the royal court as a new born babe entered the world in blue-blooded triumph. He was born on no solstice, with no celestial bodies smiling down upon him, and with no angels playing their strings.
He was as common place and super human as earth and though he was a prince, he was brought up with an astounding sense of modesty and courage followed by his most defining trait, his altruism. How had he not been spoiled by the luxuries of nobility? It was a mystery to all. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he stood in line for the crown fifth from the top. He wasn't to be groomed for the crown he would never lay his hands upon. So, the prince lived his days as moderately as he could. He played, he loved, and he laughed, all within the castle walls.
Such an inquisitive child he was! Always pattering about, studying clovers and lady beetles!
He eventually caught the attention of the royal cook, who took a liking to him as if he was his own son. The prince, a hearty age eight, followed his baking friend like a duckling around the kitchen. He picked up ladles, dishes, and loaves of bread and wielded them like scepters.
The cook got use to his presence. He would pamper the child and look after him, for he was easily neglected. This was true for all days except for one out of seven. This was when the cook went to town with the other attendants of the castle to get the necessary supplies. The prince would worry and cry when he was gone; he thought that he'd never see his friend again. Come the fall of night, though, he would return bearing the fruits of his outings.
The prince would ask countless questions on his where-abouts and the cook would always return with the same answer. "I went out."
"Out where?" questioned the child “Into the courtyard? The grounds? Where?"
"No my little one, outside the castle."
Tears of fear overtook the child's eyes, for nobody ever left the castle (at least to him), then instantaneous wonder. "Take me too!" giggled the child.
Permission was given for the prince and the cook to go on their outing...for what use was the fifth son? So onward they went the cook, child, and servants on a supply cart, to get their wares.
The child became enchanted by the hustle and bustle of real life. Questions bubbled from his lips with stuttering rapidity. However, once they entered the slums, horror dawn on him. The desolation! The despair! All the joyous liveliness left his features as they passed a poor orphaned boy begging on the streets with a sickly pallor.
"Cook! Cook! Why does he look like that? Where are his mama and pa? Why does he beg?"
"He is an abandoned child." replied the cook "I shouldn't have brought you here, come let's away."
Back at the palace, the prince began to throw tantrums that were thoroughly unlike him. He screamed and wept and threw himself to the floor. His kitchen friend rushed to him, trying to calm the tremors.
"What is this, little one? Why are you crying?"
The child collapsed in a heap, tear stained eyes pleading through honeyed locks. "We need to find him. He does have a home. He lives here."
So it was settled, they were to find him with the permission of the royal household. Again went the cook and blue blooded babe out to find the lonely child. They returned to the very place where they first spotted him, but he was nowhere to be found.
The prince called and called until all that remained was a dry whisper of a voice. The sun went to sleep in the sky. The cook began to tire from exertion. Finally, when hope was beyond hope, they sighted a figure amidst the garbage heaps. A small foot, a dirty brow, and desolate figure. The prince stumbled forward, collecting the boy. The orphan understood. He was saved.
The orphan, over time, was nursed to health and he took on a new liveliness. He was home; the prince had saved him. They developed a strong friendship that surpassed their classes. The bliss and love of childhood kindness was impenetrable as they laughed and played in the sparkling vernal dawns.
Had we stopped here, it would have been an ever after. A happy tale. One though, that wasn't of the truth.
Years passed and both boys grew into fine men. The prince became a kind hearted adult; the orphan sprouted into a healthy male. The cook grew old, said his good byes to the boys, and left the palace to join his ancestors.
The prince had been always happy in those days, giving to the poor, helping without gain; he was someone to look up to.
At the same time of the prime of his life his father's was on the decline. The eldest brothers began to fight amongst each other. Who was to take the crown? Who will follow his footsteps? Who would get what? It didn't bother the prince or the orphan; they went on with their days.
"What is to happen to me once your father dies?" asked the orphan
"The same as ever. You'll live here with me." answered the prince
"Promise?"
"Promise. We'll have our fun, throw parties, help your old district...”
The orphan smiled in spite of himself. "You are my guardian angel. Always have been. You've looked after me when others could not. For that, I am forever thankful."
"It has been an honor and has shaped me into who I have been and who I am." said the prince. Embarrassed gratitude settled between them. It would be some of the last kind words they would exchange.
At that moment exactly, his eldest brothers were out on a hunting trip, trying to prove themselves to the king when a troupe of marauders ambushed them. News reached the dying king and he collapsed in despair. All his children had been massacred in cold blood; save for one, the fifth was still in the palace.
The king beckoned for his final son to come see him. His training to become the new ruler was to begin immediately. The prince began to see the orphan less and less, still he was safe within the palace and that was what mattered. They couldn't talk much, but saw each other in passing.
Life began to heavily weigh upon the prince and one morning he got up earlier than usual to meet the orphan. "Dear friend, I know it's been difficult lately, but once I become king and get those murderers it will be the same again." the prince spoke
"How can it?" asked the orphan “I'll make it so." replied the prince
With that promise the prince had to leave to attend to his duties.
One brooding night, not too much later, the king breathed his last icicle chilled breath and the prince was coronated. He was to attend balls, meetings, hunting excursions and the like as new king. He was showered with jade and rubies encrusted with gold.
His old friend stood by smiling, happy for the new king.
Word got around that those who murdered his brothers had been plundering the town. He, although seemingly the same on the outside began to change. He began to tire of all the responsibilities of kingly-hood. Who was responsible for this harsh burden? Who should be punished? Them! He poured his attention into finding them and exterminating them. He bathed in the rewards of being the king, for it was a harsh life and he deserved a bit of acknowledgment. Balls and feasts relieved stress. The orphan saw the change in him, but felt he would get his old friend back as soon as the murderers were caught.
The prince met up with the scum in the old district of where he first met his friend. There were three of the murderous vile men. He slayed all but one.
With the man’s life in his hands he spoke. "WHY??!? Why would you do this? For what pride or purpose? Who sent you?"
"Oh, I don't know. It could be this or that...You...you brought that child in didn't you?" he said slyly. "What makes him so innocent? Maybe you should ask him." it cackled “You did find him here didn't you?"
The king’s muscles twitched unbelieving, killing the man.
He was crazy! He had to be! It couldn't... He paced back and forth. The more he thought about it the more it made sense. It all happened because of him...The ride back he became ever more furious. He didn't realize his line of thinking was on the path of delusional. Revenge and his kill had clouded his judgment.
Little did he know that the marauder was about as sane as he was.
At the palace he jumped off his steed and stormed through the castle looking for the traitor. "You!" he bellowed to the heavens insanely "Are the reason they're dead!"
"Friend, what are you talking about? What happened? Are you okay?"
The king grabbed him and yanked his hair back drawing his blade from the scabbard. The blade bit at his old friend’s skin. "You killed them. That was why you came to live with me isn't that it?!" The king was nothing but a beast with the smell of blood in mind.
"What are you saying? You're not making any sense!"
"Don't mess with me! You schemed and plotted against me! You organized against my family and that is why they are dead!"
"Friend! Friend! Please! You're upset! There is no reason to your words! How could I have done these things? When I first arrived I was a mere age of eight. I've been within the castle for the rest of my life. How could I? Why would I betray a friend?! All this revenge, gold, and power has gotten to you. Please friend, put the blade down!"
"You're no friend of mine." hissed the king as the blade slid down slicing his old friend. The orphan’s body fell, his eyes rolled back, and life departed. For the moment the king felt accomplished. He was rid of all of this. The traitor was dead. He returned to his rooms and slept soundly. Three days passed without event, then came the news.
"Sire! They have found him! The one who plotted against your brother! He has been brought to justice! You can rest!" The messenger gleamed
"How? No! It can't be! He's dead!! I killed him!?"
"Sire?"
"What? Have I...I done? My friend?! I killed..." the king wailed. He knocked over chairs and tables on his rampage. He ran to his chambers, trying to escape the awful truth, but it was like a clinging plague. He looked in the glass and saw he was no longer himself, but some callous murderer. The mirror shattered on the floor as it toppled. He vowed to himself that he would make it up. It was too late, but somehow...he promised. If he didn't make it right...he would have to pay...
He hosted balls and sold away precious jewels to earn money. He gave to the less fortunate and tried to become the man he once was. He even began to smile again.
One night, however, the last he would spend as a human being, the god of justice entered his chamber and addressed him. The king fell to his knees in almost supplication and asked him why he was there.
"You don't fool me. You know why I am here. You unjustly killed your best friend...”
"I've been trying to make it up! I've become a better man!"
"No you haven't. You've just been afraid. You're doing this to save your own skin from eternal damnation. There is no empathy in my heart for your shallow sympathy. All you've done is put a mockery to the man you use to be. This is nothing but a facade. You can't hide what you are now."
"And what is that?" he trembled
"A monster."
"Does this look like a monster to you?" he growled instantly furious "Do monsters wear clothes like these? Do they sit in castles? Do they live like me? Am I a monster?!"
"Yes...you are." said Justice “Just because you are a king on the outside, it doesn't warrant any humanity. You lost that when you let revenge consume you. All you are is as flashy as a peacock with your jewels and power as you rot on the inside. Justice needs to be done for your crime."
"And what will you do?"
"Turn you into what you really are. A monster of wretched beauty. Everyone will see your colors for what they are; look on with frightened awe and disgust. Wear your flamboyant gaudy colors, but do so as you really are..." With a wave of the gods hand the king began to change. The seams on his robes ripped as he grew. The walls crumbled into powder as he burst through them, the color of fire brandishing his skin. The people looked on with horror, the same horror that resided in his old friends eyes when he drew the blade down. They screamed and fled. The king was himself, a monster. Today he haunts the place of his downfall in all the shameful glory he represents, amidst the ruined castle forever tethered to the earth. Just as he deserves.
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