Hey, thanks so much for the interest :D! Iâm glad you like the samples. Iâll shoot you a PM with some questions regarding what you want written.Â
[Banner by the talented and amazing 401misato]
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I. Intro
Hey there, folks! I'm Fox of Spades and writing is the name of the gameđŚ! Samples, prices, and all other important information can be found below.
II. Slots and Progress
1. catfights (0/2,000 - plotting)
2. Revelation (plotting)
III. Waitlist
1. huuyuri
2. honig-bienchen
3.
4.
IV. SamplesÂ
It's still under construction, but for more samples, check out my weebly: Fox's Writing Portfolio
đŚÂ Fox's WritingÂ
- POINT OF VIEW:Â 3rd Person
- GENRE:Â Angst, slice-of-life, modern day
- Note/TW: Trigger warning suicidal thoughts and violence
- This sample is composed of three excerpts from a personal project titled When Five Becomes Four
I.Â
Abel often dreamed about dying. In the beginning, the recurring dreams had troubled him, but now he found comfort in those dreamsâto be specific, he found comfort in endings, in the idea of simply ceasing to feel or exist. Clinically depressed, that was the term his psychiatrist had thrown at his mother. According to his doctor's diagnosis, he needed help; he needed pills, or something to alleviate his want for oblivion. They gave him medicine, things like Zoloft, Prozac, and Xanax. It didn't help.
Two months into treatment, he stopped taking the pills, abandoned all dreams of becoming a marine biologist, and applied for a job as a barista at the coffee shop nearby. It was a repetitive job Abel cared nothing about, and on the weekends, he would sleep all day and stay up reading books all night. He didn't remember any of the things he read; he simply allowed his eyes to scan over the words so he'd tire out his brain enough for another round of sleep. He was rotting as he lived, and this was the reason why he was lying on his back on the 18th floor of his apartment complex. His legs dangled over the edge of the rooftop and he kicked them back and forth as he stared up at the sky.
It would be so easy to just get on his feet, take a step forward, and fall to his death.
It would be over in a fraction of a second.
Abel imagined himself, wind whipping at his skin as he tore through the airâa moment of flight before the final fall. He imagined the stunned people, screaming as bones and flesh came into contact with concrete. And then he imagined himself, splayed across the pavement like a broken marionette, limbs bent at odd angles, bones protruding out of bloodied flesh, his skull shattered, blood seeping out of his head like a secret.
Abel could understand why people romanticized death. Really, he could. There was beauty in the broken.
Sammie's death in particular was a striking example of this literary trope.
One of the happiest people he knew had killed herself, and before she died, she'd sent flowers to her family and friends. Not even a noteâjust flowers. He'd received a single Rue and he didn't know what to make of it. Sammie had been into floriography, and he felt a weight on his chest when he finally got around to looking up the flower's meaning: regret, sorrow, grace. What did she regret? Not getting the help she needed? Her friendships? A spark of anger roared to life in his chest, but it died down as quickly as it had arrived. He was numb. Grey eyes focused on the vast emptiness of the night sky. Abel remained lying there for ten more minutes before he finally sat up and looked at the streets and the passing cars below. Not today. He was no stranger to loss, and he knew his decisions would affect others as well. His mother, his aunt... he couldn't do that to them. Abel inched away from the edge of the rooftop, tucked his feet back, and stood up. It was time to head downstairs.
II.
Icy apathy melted away into searing rage. He was a horrible person, yes, but Corey was an overly dramatic and incredibly annoying waste of goddamn space. Abel stood silent as the blonde unleashed a tearful tirade against him. In fact, Abel even endured the friendship-is-magic garbage Corey pulled out of his ass before he so much as made another move toward the other boy. Kenna and Joane were watching with worried glances, but he didn't care, this was between him and Corey.
"Are you finished? Did that little speech make you feel better?" He interrupted Kenna then, his eyes narrowing as he took in Corey's actions. If any of them looked hard enough they'd see the burning irritation beneath Abel's calm facade. Back when they were kids, Abel rarely showed his anger. He had always been shy, quiet, and eager to please, often shrinking into the background. "Do you know the difference between you and me Corey? I can tell when things are an absolute fucking waste of time. Sammie is dead. Sammie has been dead for almost two years." Cruel words continued to spill from his lips like poison. "You playing ghost buster won't bring her back, and I know I'm a terrible person, I've been trying to be terrible to you for more than a year so you'd finally get the point through your thick skull and leave me alone. I don't want you here."
Abel's body seemed to tense as he took another step towards the teary blonde. "I don't want to talk to you or see your face. And just... just cut with the friendship is magic crap. I made a decision to leave you." What started out as fury shifted into something much crueler. "Didn't Joane and Kenna make the same decision too? You don't even have to answer that. You know what, Corey? I may be fucking horrible, but you're fucking annoying, so annoying everyone left."
III.
Pain erupted across his cheek and his ears rang loudly, but amid the noise, Abel had found a semblance of peace. There was a finality to the blow, something that quietly said that âthis was itâ that âeight years of friendship had finally come to an end.â It was almost freeingâa mishmash of guilt and release.
His body pitched backward, but Abel caught himself and staggered forward instead, cheek a bright red from his friendâs angry blow. Corey was a statue, hatred practically carved onto his usually soft features. He had done this. He had pushed Corey and finally gotten what he wanted.
âIf youâre gunna start something,â Abel slurred. âAt least finish it. Youâre a coward, Corey.â And then Abel was throwing his weight forward, his own arm swinging blindly until his fist collided with the bridge of Coreyâs nose.
Everything came rushing out. Pain, guilt, hate.
Abel pulled his arm back and swung again, this time catching his friend in the stomach. Joane and Kenna were screaming, but all he could hear was the loud ringing in his ears and the judgmental voice that told him it was Coreyâs fault. Fucking Corey who wouldnât let the dead stay dead. âHit back!â Abel screamed. âHit back!â
- POINT OF VIEW:Â 3rd Person
- Genre: Romance, slice-of-life, fandom (WWX)
- Note: Characters belong to JellolasÂ
- This is an excerpt from the commission If My Words Could Reach You; I'd Tell You I Love You Â
The pond was as beautiful as Cao Zixin said it would beâfluorescent flora, golden koi, and adorable turtles for as far as the eye could see. It was a peaceful little nook in Niujie Village, a magical corner tucked away from the rest of the world and perched on a hilltop away from view. Their own personal hideaway.
Cao Zixin and Wen Ning had been alone when they first arrived. The young lovers spent the first few moments simply sitting side by side (nestled against each other like a pair of lovebirds) as they stared up at the mesmerizing glow of the moon. The wind was chilly, but their proximity to each other allowed them to bask in the otherâs warmth. It was innocent yet surprisingly intimate, and as they sat side by side, Cao Zixin took Wen Ningâs hand and intertwined his fingers with his.
It was a quiet moment between two new lovers until the cats came.
And the cats arrivedâthe cats arrived in droves.
Wen Ning immediately lit up at their arrival, pulling away from his place on the bench to greet them. He stood up (despite Cao Zixinâs hidden frown) and made his way toward the gaggle of cats that now surrounded their bench.
âLittle saboteurs,â Cao Zixin huffed playfully as he feigned a sneer underneath his veil. âI swear, this happens every time we decide to go an outdoor date. Donât you know itâs rude to interrupt? Where are your manners?â The young man joked, expertly adopting his fatherâs stern tone as he comically addressed the cats as if they were a crowd of rude children.
Wen Ning chuckled at Cao Zixinâs response, but even the silly display of feigned disappointment wasnât enough to keep him by is boyfriendâs side. By the time Cao Zixin was pouting, Wen Ning was already seated on the grassy hill with a cat perched on his lap. Two other cats circled around him watchfully while the majority surrounded the bench Cao Zixin was sitting on.
However, Cao Zixin didnât pay any attention to the cats. Instead, the entirety of his focus had shifted to Wen Ning and how utterly happy and content his boyfriend looked, as if the young man were a child enraptured by the lotus boats during the Zhongyuan Festival.
There was just something so soft about the way Wen Ning nestled the cat in his arms. He couldnât put it into words, but the sight before him made Cao Zixin stare with utter adoration.
âYou know,â Wen Ning laughed softly, beautiful underneath the luminescent light of the moon. âHe k-kind of looks like you!â The young man lifted the black cat on his lap and held it up so Cao Zixin could look at its stoic and almost grumpy expression. The cat even sported a scar across his cheek from an altercation with another feline, and the more Cao Zixin stared, the more he realized his boyfriend was right. The cat did look like him. It looked a LOT like him.
âSurely, Iâm cuter than that,â he retorted with a chuckle.
âHmmm,â Wen Ning genuinely considered his boyfriendâs words. âCome here.â He patted the ground beside him. âI-I need to get a closer look, so I can give you a proper answer.â
Cao Zixin humored his boyfriendâs request and sat down beside Wen Ning on the grassy hilltop. A swarm of cats immediately surrounded them, but it didnât matter because he was lost in Wen Ningâs cheeky smile, in the gentleness that seemed to radiate from his very being. The young man had always been enamored with Wen Ning, but right now, his boyfriend took his breath away.
There was something different in the air.
Cao Zixin noticed the slight blush that had crept up onto Wen Ningâs cheeks, and he wondered if his boyfriend felt it tooâthe odd tension that had fallen over them, the electricity in the air.
âI-I swear! You do look like him!â Wen Ning had released the cat, and had turned to face Cao Zixin. The young man spent a moment looking hesitant, before he reached for his boyfriendâs veil and lifted it off his face (unintentionally covering his eyes in the process). Theyâd always been touchy, but something about this interaction made Cao Zixinâs heart leap into his throat.
The young man who always had a LOT to say was utterly speechless.
Cao Zixin felt Wen Ningâs hand tremble as his boyfriend placed his thumb gently against his scar. Wen Ning traced the remnants of the wound up his cheek, and from behind his upturned veil, Cao Zixin wished he could stare into Wen Ningâs eyes.
âSee,â Wen Ning whispered. âYouâre similar, e-even down to y-your scars.â
Their faces were inches apart, but Cao Zixin didnât have the brainpower to come up with a witty retort or a long-winded speech to hide how vulnerable he felt at the moment.
And then Wen Ning kissed him.
Wen Ning kissed him and he could have sworn his soul evacuated from its mortal shell and into some other plane of existence. It was a gentle, almost ghostly kissâthe kind young boys often gave to their first crushes underneath the shade of the gingko tree, but all the same, it made Cao Zixinâs heart leap into his throat, made whatever witty remark he wanted to say die on his lips.
It was the first time theyâd ever kissed, and Cao Zixin finally understood what people meant when they said it felt like watching fireworks streak across the sky, like a jolt of lightning up oneâs spine. He was swept away by the kiss, and in the heat of the moment, Cao Zixin wanted to tell Wen Ning he loved him. However, before he could blurt out such a weighty confession, he reeled in his emotions, pulled away, and hid how he truly felt behind a self-assured smile.
Cao Zixin pulled down his veil and chuckled. âI didnât know you were this smooth, Wen Ning.â
- POINT OF VIEW: 3rd Person
- Genre:Â Angst, hurt/comfort, vampires
- Note/TW:Â Characters belong to Revelation, trigger warning blood and implied violence
This is an excerpt from the commission The Blood That Binds UsÂ
Blood tasted disgusting on most daysâsalty, metallic, the equivalent of watered-down mucus and mushed meat coating his tongue and dribbling down the back of his throat. Oliver had never enjoyed the taste or the texture, but today, the level of disgust he felt was unparalleled, enough to make his insides churn and his stomach heave.
He couldnât get the taste of Benjaminâs blood off his tongue.
The bathroom had looked like a slaughterhouse as he crawled out of it on his hands and knees, and he was no better, Oliver had scrubbed and scratched at his skin until it started to hurt, until it turned red and blotchy underneath his fingernails. The vampire had changed his clothes twice, and still, he couldnât get the stench of blood off him, couldnât wash away his sins no matter how hard he tried, no matter how scalding the water.
So now he was hereâsitting on the floor with his back against his bedframe, knees tucked up to his chestâdressed in an old shirt and sweats. He had his sketchbook propped on his knees and was doodling mindless, messy shapes onto the page. Oliver was a jumpy mess, and he flinched when the tip of his pencil broke against the angry, non-sensical spirals heâd etched into his sketch book.
âOliver.â
The vampire bristled (like his heart was perpetually in his throat) when he heard a soft knocking against the door. A part of him wanted to ignore whoever was on the other side, but when he realized it was Louise, he seemed to soften just a little.
âOliver,â Louise called out again. âMay I come in?â
âYes,â he exhaled. âYou can⌠come in, Louise.â
Oliver sat up a little straighter, but it wasnât enough to hide his mental state. The fledgling vampireâs eyes were puffy from crying, and the way his hand trembled as he tightened his grip around his pencil, was enough to show Louise his head was in shambles.
They locked eyes as Louise walked into the room. The woman carried herself with the same effortless poise as she always didâback straight, shoulders relaxed and levelâbut for the first time, Oliver couldnât see the familiar spark of confidence in her eyes. The longer his gaze lingered, the more he realized that Louise looked a little lost too.
âUm, what do you want, Louise?â
There was a rare gleam of hesitance in her gaze. âI just wanted to check on you, Oliver.â
âIâm fine.â He lowered his hand to hide the trembling. âAnything else?â
âListen Oliver,â her tone was soft, gentle. âI want to let you know; it wasnât your fault.â
Something about thatâwasnât his faultâmade anguish unlike anything Louise had ever seen before wash over Oliverâs usually somber features. The fledgling vampireâs eyebrows furrowed together, and he bit down onto his bottom lip until it stung. Suddenly, he threw out his arms (the sketch book falling to the floor). âWasnât my fault?â He sounded exasperated. âLouise, in what world is this not my fault?â
Oliver had never been the type to raise his voice (he knew all too well, what it felt like, cowering whenever his fatherâs deep baritone boomed through their household), but here he was, shouting and practically trembling with unbridled rage.
He was angry at himself, but Louise had given him an outlet for the outpouring of negative emotions. âI sunk my fangs into his neck.â Oliver paused to take in a shuddery breath, and a part of him thought it was ridiculous that even in the afterlife he knew how to recognize the beginnings of a panic attack. The young man clutched at the front of his shirt, like his heart was tightening in his chest and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. âI can still taste his blood on my tongue, Louise⌠so donâtââ Oliver looked like he was about to cry. âDonât tell me itâs not my fault because⌠because thatâs ridiculous!â
Oliverâs face twisted into a mask of pained horror, and while Louise wanted to offer him comfort, she took a step back to give him the space he needed.
âIâll give you time to yourself, Oliver.â
âLouise,â his voice cracked. Even in his raged stupor, he could tell heâd hurt her feelings and somehow (seeing her face twist into one of subtle hurt) made Oliver feel even shittier. âI didnâtââ he stated. âI didnât mean it.â
- POINT OF VIEW:Â 3rd Person
- Genre:Â Romance, hurt/comfort, fandom (Stardew Valley)Â
- Note/TW: Characters belong to Catfights
This is an excerpt from the commission At the End of Everything; It's Always Been YouÂ
During the Festival of the Moonlight Jellies, Julia leaned into Shiroâs side; and something about the way he wrapped his arm around Juliaâs shoulders made Alexâs blood boil. Heâd asked Julia about Shiro at the Flower Dance, and sheâd mumbled something about the two of them being âjust friends,â but Alex had seen the way Shiro looked at her, had seen the way his usually stoic features lit up the moment Julia held out her hand and asked him to dance with her.
It was the same old song and dance tonight.
Alex could see (plain as day), the way Shiro looked at her, far more enamored with her expression of awe than the otherworldly glow that surrounded the harbor. Alex knew the look of a person in love, and it made his insides churn, made an ugly frown tug on the corners of his lips. He was especially annoyed when Shiro peeled off his jacket and wrapped it around Juliaâs shoulders.
And like a dumbass, he spent the rest of the festival staring at them.
Once the festivities ended, Shiro and his younger brother offered to walk Julia home, but she insisted on staying and enjoying the nighttime air; Alex was relieved because it meant heâd have a shot at talking to her in private, and so once most of Pelican Town had returned to the comfort of their homes, he walked up to her until they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the docks.
âSo, Shiro? You two are a thing now, huh?â He couldnât stop the bitterness from creeping into his voice. Ever since the Flower Dance, things between him and Julia had been a little rocky, to say the least. They made up a few weeks later, but it felt like they were treading on unstable groundâfelt like heâd lost his footing and was struggling to regain it, failing at every chance he got.
âThis again?â Julia sounded exasperated, annoyed. âI told you, weâre just friends.â
âUh-huh,â Alex rolled his shoulders. âBecause friends look at each other the way he looks at you.â
Honestly, a part of Julia wanted to throttle him. âAnd how does he look at me?â
âLike youâre the only person in the room.â That was how Alex had looked at her for the past few months, how heâd wanted her to look at him; but maybe heâd always be that dumb jock who was useful for nothing more than a bit of fun and a good time. Sometimes, it felt like Julia saw him for himâimperfections, insecurities, and allâhell, heâd never told anyone else about his mother. Other times, it felt as if she were looking past him, like heâd never be what she actually wanted.
âYou knowâŚâ Alex let out a soft exhale. âYouâre kinda being a dick.â
âOh, fuck you, Alex.â Julia lashed out, and she would have walked away if he hadnât continued. Who was he to tell her what she could and couldnât do? After all, last she checked, they were just having funâno strings attached, the type of situationship where they could joke around and just have a good time without worrying about all the extra feelings that could ruin a good friendship.
âI mean it,â Alexâs voice hitched, like he was struggling to stay composed. âSo, what if youâve been burned before? Everyoneâs been hurt. Iâve been hurt too. Julia, it doesnât give you a free pass to be shitty to the people you⌠to the people you care about.â
âAlex.â Julia couldnât stop her own voice from rising, couldnât stop herself from looking like she wanted to shove him off the pier. How many times did she have to say it to get it through his thick skull? âWe were just having fun, I thought that was clear, I didnât want anything seriousââ
âBullshit.â He sounded more crestfallen than angry.
âSo what?â Julia snapped. âYou think we were in love? Is that it?â The last time she thought sheâd loved anyone was when she was seeing Sandy, and look where that got herâa broken heart and dreams of a future that would never happen. Sheâd been so ready, so willing to give her all, to dive headfirst into whatever awaited them. Turns out, she wasnât even a priority on Sandyâs list. It was the most devastated and hurt sheâd felt in a while, and even though Julia never dared to speak about the details of that heartbreak aloud, she felt like Alex knew enough. Talk traveled fast in Pelican Town. âWhat part of no strings attached didnât you get?â
Alex stood his ground, and it was the most serious sheâd ever seen him. âYou do care about me.â He said it with a confidence that was very Alex. âWhy else would you listen to me blabber on and on about books and my mom. Hey, maybe Iâm not as smart as I thinkââ and knowing his insecurities, that little comment broke Juliaâs heart. âMaybe Iâm wrong and you donât, but I think you do care. I think you care a lot, and youâre just scared of getting burned again.â
His perceptiveness surprised her.
âTell me Iâm wrong.â Alex closed the gap between them, and it was clearly a challenge. âTell me Iâm wrong; tell me you donât care and IâŚâ his voice shook. âIâll stop bothering youâ"
Before Alex could say anything else, Julia grabbed him by the collar of his letterman jacket (noticed the momentary surprise on his face followed by smug triumph), and too proud to tell him he was right or allow him to dwell on his victory for more than a fraction of a second, she crushed her lips against his and kissed him like his lungs had the only air around.
- POINT OF VIEW:Â 3rd Person
- Genre:Â Horror, angst, hurt/comfort
- NOTE/TW:Â Characters belong to dogstarlite, trigger warning goreÂ
- This is an excerpt from the commission Dreams of Disaster
Eddie could feel the bastardâs hands inside his chest cavityâcould see his noodle-like insides spilling from the hollow tear in his abdomen as he bled crimson onto the makeshift gurney beneath him. The entire room smelled of iron and rotting meat that had been left under the sun for far too long, and for a terrifying moment, Eddie the Nail wondered if heâd died and found himself in hell.
The edges of reality blurred and folded inward, a blood-red moon peeking from behind the curtains. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. Every limb felt as heavy as lead, and the more Eddie struggled, the more aware he became of the sensation of a gloved hand caressing his internal organs. The motherfucker was inside him; the manâs scalpel grazing gently against the delicate twist and turns of Eddieâs intestinesâfingers playing absentmindedly, almost tenderly, with the ridges of Eddieâs ribcage.
Eddie was going to break that motherfuckerâs face.
Eddie was going to beat him black and blue until he was nothing more than a bloody smear on the pavement, until he was riddled with nails and gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
He was going toâŚ
The realization hit him like a kick in the teeth. He wasnât going to do shit, was he? He wasnât going to do a goddamn thing because he was dying, wasnât he? Eddieâs gaze followed the gloved hand. He couldnât see jack shit from where he was lying, but he could make out the bastardâs hand as it moved within his chestâcould feel it as the man traced along the vulnerable surface of his internal organs as if he were, as disturbing as it sounded, caressing a lover.
Eddie saw a glint of steel as the scalpel was raised above himâfelt a searing, tearing pain spread across his chest like wildfire as the sharp end dug deep into his still-beating heart.
It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission. In and out. They were going to collect their guy, barge in guns blazing, scare their rivals shitless, then make it home in time to watch the game on TV over a couple of beers and microwavable pizza. The good shit. Simple shit.
It wasnât supposed to end like this.
Fuck.
Eddie was screamingâhand to his chest, all out screaming like he was going to die of a heart attack. He was in the safety of his room, in bed with Adam. However, for a terrifying moment of unfiltered panic, Eddie believed he was going to die in a godforsaken shithole, unable to save not only himself but his own men as well. His breathing hitched in his throat, and as his heart pummeled away inside his chest, he sputtered and coughed like a drowning man.
âBaby,â Adam had dropped his usual accent, was shaking him gently by the shoulders. âBaby whatâs wrong? Does your chest hurt? Tell me whatâs wrong.â
Eddie took one look at Adamâheart still hammering in his chest like a spooked bird, hands tingling, chest stinging with the phantom pain of a botched flaying that had happened years ago.
âCharlie! Charlie! Bolt the doors,â he practically snarled. âBar the windows, quick!â
It felt like he was having a heart attack, the way Eddieâs chest tightened with each breath, the way his vision blurred, and the way the room seemed to spin as an ungodly rush of panic washed over him like a wave. Eddie was a stoic man, but ever since that fateful night (flayed open and left to die on a gurney) heâd wrestled with night terrors and his own slew of inner demons.
He detested how vulnerable it made him feel, and on more than one occasion, heâd woken up out of breath and clutching helplessly at the air as he struggled to root himself in reality.
The panic would always pass, but in those brief moments where he was lost between the waking world and sleep, everything felt realâas if scalpels were digging into his organs, as if his chest was being carved open like a pumpkin during goddamn Halloween.
- POINT OF VIEW:Â 3rd PersonÂ
- Genre:Â Slice-of-life, romance, fluff
- Note:Â Characters belong to saintlapin
- This is an excerpt from the commission Wintertime WoesÂ
If anyone else had said the same thing, Baptiste would have scowled.
But he couldnât, not at her. Ătude was, to put it lightly, his compass. She gave him a direction and fished him out of the depths of despair when he felt like he was drowning. She had shown him kindness and patience, much more than he felt he deserved.
Ătude wasâŚ
Baptiste always had a way with the written word. In fact, he used to be known for eliciting emotions with both his songs and lyrics. But when it came to Ătude, he didnât know how to describe the way he felt for her - all he knew was that she made him feel seen and appreciated, and vulnerable in a way that wasnât bad. She made him feel as if heâd swallowed a mouthful of butterflies, but it wasnât a feeling he hated.
Baptiste was unsure about many things in his life, but he was sure of one thing, he wanted to make Ătude happy.
âWhat?â Etude was smiling at him. âCat got your tongue, mon loup? Donât you want your nails to look as pretty as mine?â Daintily, she lifted a hand to show him her work. Her nails were a light purple with delicate streaks of yellow added in to represent shooting stars across the sky.
âFine, for you.â Baptisteâs answer might have seemed terse to an outsider, but the moment he sat down on the floor beside her, his shoulders slackened and his perpetual frown turned into something gentler. He was at peace when he was with her and he loved her for it.
Oh no.Â
Love. The word was foreign and out of the equation for someone like him. His more cynical side told him that Ătude was too good for him, that heâd only weigh her down if something more than a friendship blossomed. Yet, another part of him wanted more.
He deserved to be happy too didnât he? He deserved something more than strife and self-pity.
Baptisteâs eyes clouded over as he fought away the strange storm of emotions he felt in his chest. Ătude was good at making him feel things he usually didnât, and he didnât know if he was terrified or thrilled. Ever since she appeared, he felt alive, more than he had in years.
Ătude took him by the hand and it was nice. He didnât crave human contact until she came waltzing in, and now a part of him wanted to just hold her hand. It made him sad that he couldnât, not while she was painting his nails at least.
âYouâre so serious, mon loup,â Etudeâs voice was soft and exuded a quiet sort of concern.
âHah, Iâm always quiet.â It was an attempt to be cheeky and lessen the strange feeling he felt in his chest. âHavenât you gotten used to it yet, ma belle?â
âI know when somethingâs on your mind, you canât fool me.â
And she was right, Ătude could read him like an open book. At first, the idea of someone delving deeper into his head upset Baptiste. Now though, it was comforting to know that someone understood - that he didnât have to explain himself when the weight of the world felt exceptionally heavy on his shoulders.
âCome on, out with it, Baptiste.â
He really wanted to kiss her.
Perhaps he would regret it, but he already regretted so many things in life. What was there to lose really? Slowly, as Etude ran the cool brush over his nails, Baptiste shifted in place. His movements were stiff and awkward, but there was a rare glint of decisiveness in his eyes.
âBaptiste?â
He didnât wait a second longer. Carefully, he leaned over and gave Etude a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was the kind of kiss young boys gave to their childhood crushes beneath the shadow of the playground slide, but Baptisteâs heart thudded in his chest all the same.
âThank you,â his voice was soft and strained. âFor everything.â
Nothing else needed to be said.
V. What I Will Write
Yes | No |
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VI. PricesÂ
All payments will be made through PayPal. There is a fixed rate of 4 USD for every 100 words for SFW pieces, and 5 USD for every 100 words for NSFW pieces.
If I go over the agreed word count, you don't have to pay extra.
Safe for Work Prices | Not Safe for Work Prices |
100 words | 4 USD | 100 words | 5 USD |
500 words | 20 USD | 500 words | 25 USD |
1,000 words | 40 USD | 1,000 words | 50 USD |
2,000 words | 80 USD | 2,000 words | 100 USD |
3,000 words | 120 USD | 3,000 words | 150 USD |
5,000 words | 200 USD | 5,000 words | 250 USD |
10,000 words | 400 USD | 10,000 words | 500 USD |
VII. Procedure / Form
Please follow these steps:
- Send me this form (feel free to DM or post here)
Genre:
Relevant Links: Â
Ideas for the story or word prompts:
Word count range:
PayPal Email:
- If I have any questions, I'll ask before I start writing
- I send an invoice to your PayPal email (Payment upfront, or 50% upfront / 50% upon reaching the proofreading & editing stage)
- The writing process begins
- I finish the story Â
- I send you the file (you can ask for as many edits as needed)
- The transaction comes to an end
- Feel free to post the story wherever (with credits or a link back to my shop)
- Unless you specify that you want your piece to be private, I'll be able to use it as a sampleÂ
VIII. That's All Folks
Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you all have an awesome day!
code by Avicode
Hey, I'd like to get a story written about 2 of my characters. 800-1000 words per character. I have vague plot points about them (ex. the starting point, major event(s), current place) but I'm not that good at writing on my own. Can you PM me for further details?
Yuwasphere
Thanks for the interest! Sure, I'll send you a PM.Â
severely_ungifted
D'aww, thank you so much! It was lots of fun working with you too  Â
 I love their stuff. Just got my commission and I'm like... So dead. It's just THAT good. She captured the feeling I was going for with my characters so well!Â
I'm leaving a link to both the stories they wrote for me- It's under the "About" Section on their profiles.
Stories aside, they were a great seller and really put effort into their work and messaged me a lot for inputs so their stories became just right, which I always love and appreciate  Â
I would 10/10 buy again   Â
Thank you again for commissioning me! It was really fun working with you, and Iâm really glad you enjoyed the stories :D! Your characters are very unique and fun to write for! Advance happy holidays, and I hope you have a heckinâ awesome day!!!
Hello! Iâm glad you like the samples. Of course, feel free to go ahead and dm me the specifics   !
Review - â â â â â
Foxofspades did a really amazing job with my characters. Their personalities and thoughts were captured perfectly. A very pleasant person to work with and the turnaround time was very quick! I would definitely commission again in the future :D