[center][img]https://imgur.com/1HmlxHz.png[/img][/center]
my name is NightRising (you can call me Night) and i like to write. i've been writing for a long time. i wish to one day publish a book. i'm opening up commissions.
writing commission: ~600 words or more (never less), 100 gems.
[b]CURRENTLY LOOKING TO TRADE MY WRITING FOR ART![/b] it can also be purchased, but yeah.
[b]payment[/b]: please send me a one way CR when i confirm i can do your order. i will not accept the CR until i finish and have posted the story.
[color=red]DISCLAIMER:[/color] if you give me freedom rather than assigning me a storyline, my work will be of my best quality. you can give me headcanons for the character, but i do best without. this is your choice.
i'd appreciate if you left me a review after receiving your piece! if you need me to correct something, please let me know and i'll fix it for free (right after you receive your piece, not two weeks later.)
my name is NightRising (you can call me Night) and i like to write. i've been writing for a long time. i wish to one day publish a book. i'm opening up commissions.
writing commission: ~600 words or more (never less), 100 gems.
CURRENTLY LOOKING TO TRADE MY WRITING FOR ART! it can also be purchased, but yeah.
payment: please send me a one way CR when i confirm i can do your order. i will not accept the CR until i finish and have posted the story.
DISCLAIMER: if you give me freedom rather than assigning me a storyline, my work will be of my best quality. you can give me headcanons for the character, but i do best without. this is your choice.
i'd appreciate if you left me a review after receiving your piece! if you need me to correct something, please let me know and i'll fix it for free (right after you receive your piece, not two weeks later.)
[center][size=5]writing examples (these are several months old)[/size][/center]
[quote=writing by me, belongs to me]A searing pain ripples through my body. Every drop of my blood burns as it courses through my veins, a million stinging hornets. My vision is completely black, but from the metallic tang of blood in the air, I can tell my injuries are vast. My claws reach up to my face to get some sense of what I have become. Soft, ripe flesh meets my paws. A simple touch sets the pain afire again. The skin has been ripped and peeled away, it is raw. Cold air bites into my eyes, and I fumble around in darkness. I am pricked from every side, and soon I can smell a more pleasant alternative to the blood that is pooled around me. There are roses, there has to be. I must be lying in a patch of thorns. What am I doing here? I can’t remember. My head pounds. The pain is so extreme that a sick feeling arises in my stomach, and I wish I had passed out. The very attempt at thought causes a rake to carve down my spine, greeting every nerve with a slice of agony.
[b]Where is she.[/b] The message is so urgent, it tears through my pain and stands alone. I scramble to my feet, my breath coming far too quickly. Adrenaline flares. A hoarse roar shudders from my throat, which feels like it has been shredded to ribbons. [b]WHERE IS SHE?[/b] I screech and dash forwards, arms extended. My claws grasp the unforgiving night air for a body, a heartbeat; my efforts are only rewarded with the embrace of negative space.
Suddenly, after turning a sharp right with my claws hanging low to the ground, I feel something wet. I press the substance between my fingertips, and I’m sure it’s blood. I stop walking, and stand for what must have been at least five minutes, completely still. My chest only dares to rise and fall, shallow movement. As if my lungs aren’t quite sure whether they want to give out yet, and let me turn blue as the indigo sky. A strange surge of energy crawls up my legs and stretches towards my heart, reaching desperately. Outstretched fingers, a melting shadow; a swallowed promise. [b]I will protect you.[/b] I gasp, and fall to my knees. They hit stone with a painful thud. I try to move, but I’m not able to move a muscle. I thrash my arms and throw my head, but nothing results in my actions: my heart slowly pulses, but my body is keeping me captive. No movements ever stirred the air. I’m transfixed by the invisible bonds holding me fast. Even more petrifying is the continued sensation of a power that deserves my undying attention, and continues to scrape at my organs. It’s a tingling sensation, one that I feel I cannot ignore.
A flash of color appears before my eyes, but I know it isn’t what I should be seeing at the moment. It’s her. I can’t see her eyes, they are obstructed by a veil. I know they would be staring. Piercing, vibrant stained glass windows into her soul. So why are the curtains pulled?
A taut smile caught her lips. It began to widen, and I knew it was sincere; she was no longer putting on a mask, as she always had. Even for I.
“Goodbye, my love.”[/quote]
[quote=writing by me, belongs to bloodybunny]
During times in which the plague sweeps the countryside and none are to be spared, it may be suggested to visit the immortal; she who lives in the rotting belly of a god and is one with the plague. Indeed, she lived in a corpse, but it was very old, and most of the flesh had fallen off of the bones. By the time of this story, the skeleton was completely clean, so visiting her was not such a chore to the nose.
Upon entering the mouth of the giant beast, you remember what the one who begged you to visit told you. How she slayed this monster herself. You walk among the chipped, yellowed fangs that could crush you did the jaw collapse. Strung together bones work as a separator between the grand entrance and the hallway, which is the throat. Your steps are tentative as they echo oddly throughout the area. You don’t have a clear view of the outside anymore, as the gaps between the bones have been sealed with dried mud. As you walk, you notice something odd out of the corner of your eye. Stopping to squint at it, you leap away in fear and disgust as you realize it’s a suffocated mole. Walking onwards, your wings begin to tremble and you shake out your claws in continued revulsion.
Strange symbols and runes start to scatter the floor at some places. You tilt your head curiously, but cannot even begin to decipher them. A violent cough whips through you, snapping your neck forwards as a light spray of blood spatters the ground. Struggling onwards, it seems like an eternity before you reach the end. You know you saw a bird that was still twitching back there, but you chose not to run your eyes over it.
Another bone separator is all that parts you from her, and you can feel her. Her presence is clear and strong. As you come closer, it feels more and more like you’re moving through tar. It’s hard to go onwards, you want to pull away. A sense of danger crawls over you like a hundred spiders, but you resist the urge to run. This was the cure to the plague. Why would you stop now? You’ve come so far. So you don’t flee, you don’t sprint for your life. You just get closer. And you know that she’s waiting on the other side. It’s dark, but you can see her eyes gleaming, glowing. She’s looking you square in the face, headstrong, unafraid of the plague.
When you enter, she’s sitting with her paws folded, and still staring you down. You’d be willing to bet that she’s been staring at you, pointed at you as sure as a compass, since her lair even entered your sight. “I’m here for the cure.” She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t blink. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breathing, and her lips are pursed. Her head remains cocked, and she watches you strangely as you walk around the room.
A turtle’s shell here, a snake’s rattle there. They are all piled up in one spot against the wall, and seem to be the odds and ends of the whole place. The rest is on beautiful display. Mounted on the walls are the skulls of various animals, all watching as blankly as the haunting priestess herself. The moment you look up is when your heart practically refuses to march onwards. The full skeleton of a flying dragon is suspended in mid air, without any wires attached. It seems to be floating on its own, and you’re dead set on the fact that it just moved.
“The cure?” You prod further, turning to look at her again. Turning your back to this dragon seems deadly. She doesn’t make a move. You glance back up at the floating dragon and screech as you find it has repositioned itself standing on its back legs and looming over you with fangs on display. Your eyes flash back to the immortal in fresh terror only to find she’s crawling towards you, and you’re surrounded by reconstructed skeletons. A long, ridged blade is clenched in one fist, and a grim determination is spread on her face; as is this is something she’s sworn to do. “W-what are you doing?” You croak, hitting the floor and trying to scramble backwards but instead hitting a mammoth’s tusks.
“The cure..” She licks her lips, cracked and dried with blood. “Is death,” she whispers.[/quote]
[quote=writing by me, belongs to bloodybunny]
A small wooden platform raised on four stilts overlooked the icy expanse. The edge of the world, the edge of transformation. White and gray angrily whipped against it, but the structure refused to be budged. Standing with her nose pointed due north was a dragon of sandstone, marble, and gold. She squinted into the blizzard, and turned around. There was a door frame, but no door; an entrance with no room. Before she could lay down to sleep, she felt something warm trickling past her chin. Her paw went to her face, and when it drew away, it was reddened. She howled, but it was stolen by the storm long before it could’ve reached anyone’s ears.
Her claws began to lengthen, eyes to bulge, and horns to curl out of control. Like twisting thorns, they reached down and wrapped around her neck. Teeth hung outside of her mouth similar to a crocodile’s, and the mold on her paws crawled up her whole body; bathing her brown with rotten splotches of ink black. Her mouth was wrapped like a mummy, with beaten linen.
When she walks, she swings her hips in such an exaggerated, drawn out motion that her tail slithers across the floor from her right paw all the way back to her left. Her steps were long and curious, as if she was the first to wake up in the lair. With shining, golden pupils that illuminated whatever shadows there were before her and raised them to pure white; she stepped through the door frame.
Manifesting out of a swarm of ants, the demon stepped onto the cold pavement in a darkened alleyway. Her searchlight eyes mercilessly sliced it apart, as she seeked the warm glow of a family home; and she found it. A small, blue house with sunflowers in the front yard beckoned to her. The lights were out but it was apparent that the fire had not been put out. It crackled quietly, and someone was turning the pages of a book before it; reading to the orange glow.
Somewhere inside her chest, her soul was clenching her heart, begging it to not allow her to go onwards. Despite what Viper desired, the demon would do what it needed to keep itself fed.
Slinking up the path made of pebbles, and past the fountain that hissed and gurgled, the demon got closer to the front door. But it passed, turning a sharp left. Its claws dug into the side of the house, leaving deep groove marks all the way to where they stopped: by the window. A drawn breath, licked lips. Knuckles white under tightly fastened bandages, and the pane sliding out of the way to make room for an entering body. The light splashed on the scar that dribbled down her face, and the hatchling within the room hadn’t stirred to see.
“Run! Please! The demon’s going to-” Viper yelled, but stopped, as always; realizing it was pointless. A hoarse throat in her normal form was not worth screaming at no-one to run. She had the front seat, but not the controls. Watching a murder through the eyes of a killer, unable to prevent the events.
A paw wrapped around the hatchling’s throat, and it flailed about in the demon’s grip for a minute before passing out cold. A bluish tint rose to his scales, and his book was left open at page 48. The demon’s mold began to return to her paws as the hatchling became nothing but a blackened corpse; her strange features shrinking and searchlight eyes switching off.
When Viper awoke again, she was back on the platform. Sometimes she left and visited a small Clan in which resided those who trusted her, though whenever she did, she felt the pangs of guilt.
Because she knew if she told the demon she loved them very, very much; they would rot.[/quote]
writing examples (these are several months old)
writing by me, belongs to me wrote:
A searing pain ripples through my body. Every drop of my blood burns as it courses through my veins, a million stinging hornets. My vision is completely black, but from the metallic tang of blood in the air, I can tell my injuries are vast. My claws reach up to my face to get some sense of what I have become. Soft, ripe flesh meets my paws. A simple touch sets the pain afire again. The skin has been ripped and peeled away, it is raw. Cold air bites into my eyes, and I fumble around in darkness. I am pricked from every side, and soon I can smell a more pleasant alternative to the blood that is pooled around me. There are roses, there has to be. I must be lying in a patch of thorns. What am I doing here? I can’t remember. My head pounds. The pain is so extreme that a sick feeling arises in my stomach, and I wish I had passed out. The very attempt at thought causes a rake to carve down my spine, greeting every nerve with a slice of agony.
Where is she. The message is so urgent, it tears through my pain and stands alone. I scramble to my feet, my breath coming far too quickly. Adrenaline flares. A hoarse roar shudders from my throat, which feels like it has been shredded to ribbons. WHERE IS SHE? I screech and dash forwards, arms extended. My claws grasp the unforgiving night air for a body, a heartbeat; my efforts are only rewarded with the embrace of negative space.
Suddenly, after turning a sharp right with my claws hanging low to the ground, I feel something wet. I press the substance between my fingertips, and I’m sure it’s blood. I stop walking, and stand for what must have been at least five minutes, completely still. My chest only dares to rise and fall, shallow movement. As if my lungs aren’t quite sure whether they want to give out yet, and let me turn blue as the indigo sky. A strange surge of energy crawls up my legs and stretches towards my heart, reaching desperately. Outstretched fingers, a melting shadow; a swallowed promise. I will protect you. I gasp, and fall to my knees. They hit stone with a painful thud. I try to move, but I’m not able to move a muscle. I thrash my arms and throw my head, but nothing results in my actions: my heart slowly pulses, but my body is keeping me captive. No movements ever stirred the air. I’m transfixed by the invisible bonds holding me fast. Even more petrifying is the continued sensation of a power that deserves my undying attention, and continues to scrape at my organs. It’s a tingling sensation, one that I feel I cannot ignore.
A flash of color appears before my eyes, but I know it isn’t what I should be seeing at the moment. It’s her. I can’t see her eyes, they are obstructed by a veil. I know they would be staring. Piercing, vibrant stained glass windows into her soul. So why are the curtains pulled?
A taut smile caught her lips. It began to widen, and I knew it was sincere; she was no longer putting on a mask, as she always had. Even for I.
“Goodbye, my love.”
writing by me, belongs to bloodybunny wrote:
During times in which the plague sweeps the countryside and none are to be spared, it may be suggested to visit the immortal; she who lives in the rotting belly of a god and is one with the plague. Indeed, she lived in a corpse, but it was very old, and most of the flesh had fallen off of the bones. By the time of this story, the skeleton was completely clean, so visiting her was not such a chore to the nose.
Upon entering the mouth of the giant beast, you remember what the one who begged you to visit told you. How she slayed this monster herself. You walk among the chipped, yellowed fangs that could crush you did the jaw collapse. Strung together bones work as a separator between the grand entrance and the hallway, which is the throat. Your steps are tentative as they echo oddly throughout the area. You don’t have a clear view of the outside anymore, as the gaps between the bones have been sealed with dried mud. As you walk, you notice something odd out of the corner of your eye. Stopping to squint at it, you leap away in fear and disgust as you realize it’s a suffocated mole. Walking onwards, your wings begin to tremble and you shake out your claws in continued revulsion.
Strange symbols and runes start to scatter the floor at some places. You tilt your head curiously, but cannot even begin to decipher them. A violent cough whips through you, snapping your neck forwards as a light spray of blood spatters the ground. Struggling onwards, it seems like an eternity before you reach the end. You know you saw a bird that was still twitching back there, but you chose not to run your eyes over it.
Another bone separator is all that parts you from her, and you can feel her. Her presence is clear and strong. As you come closer, it feels more and more like you’re moving through tar. It’s hard to go onwards, you want to pull away. A sense of danger crawls over you like a hundred spiders, but you resist the urge to run. This was the cure to the plague. Why would you stop now? You’ve come so far. So you don’t flee, you don’t sprint for your life. You just get closer. And you know that she’s waiting on the other side. It’s dark, but you can see her eyes gleaming, glowing. She’s looking you square in the face, headstrong, unafraid of the plague.
When you enter, she’s sitting with her paws folded, and still staring you down. You’d be willing to bet that she’s been staring at you, pointed at you as sure as a compass, since her lair even entered your sight. “I’m here for the cure.” She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t blink. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breathing, and her lips are pursed. Her head remains cocked, and she watches you strangely as you walk around the room.
A turtle’s shell here, a snake’s rattle there. They are all piled up in one spot against the wall, and seem to be the odds and ends of the whole place. The rest is on beautiful display. Mounted on the walls are the skulls of various animals, all watching as blankly as the haunting priestess herself. The moment you look up is when your heart practically refuses to march onwards. The full skeleton of a flying dragon is suspended in mid air, without any wires attached. It seems to be floating on its own, and you’re dead set on the fact that it just moved.
“The cure?” You prod further, turning to look at her again. Turning your back to this dragon seems deadly. She doesn’t make a move. You glance back up at the floating dragon and screech as you find it has repositioned itself standing on its back legs and looming over you with fangs on display. Your eyes flash back to the immortal in fresh terror only to find she’s crawling towards you, and you’re surrounded by reconstructed skeletons. A long, ridged blade is clenched in one fist, and a grim determination is spread on her face; as is this is something she’s sworn to do. “W-what are you doing?” You croak, hitting the floor and trying to scramble backwards but instead hitting a mammoth’s tusks.
“The cure..” She licks her lips, cracked and dried with blood. “Is death,” she whispers.
writing by me, belongs to bloodybunny wrote:
A small wooden platform raised on four stilts overlooked the icy expanse. The edge of the world, the edge of transformation. White and gray angrily whipped against it, but the structure refused to be budged. Standing with her nose pointed due north was a dragon of sandstone, marble, and gold. She squinted into the blizzard, and turned around. There was a door frame, but no door; an entrance with no room. Before she could lay down to sleep, she felt something warm trickling past her chin. Her paw went to her face, and when it drew away, it was reddened. She howled, but it was stolen by the storm long before it could’ve reached anyone’s ears.
Her claws began to lengthen, eyes to bulge, and horns to curl out of control. Like twisting thorns, they reached down and wrapped around her neck. Teeth hung outside of her mouth similar to a crocodile’s, and the mold on her paws crawled up her whole body; bathing her brown with rotten splotches of ink black. Her mouth was wrapped like a mummy, with beaten linen.
When she walks, she swings her hips in such an exaggerated, drawn out motion that her tail slithers across the floor from her right paw all the way back to her left. Her steps were long and curious, as if she was the first to wake up in the lair. With shining, golden pupils that illuminated whatever shadows there were before her and raised them to pure white; she stepped through the door frame.
Manifesting out of a swarm of ants, the demon stepped onto the cold pavement in a darkened alleyway. Her searchlight eyes mercilessly sliced it apart, as she seeked the warm glow of a family home; and she found it. A small, blue house with sunflowers in the front yard beckoned to her. The lights were out but it was apparent that the fire had not been put out. It crackled quietly, and someone was turning the pages of a book before it; reading to the orange glow.
Somewhere inside her chest, her soul was clenching her heart, begging it to not allow her to go onwards. Despite what Viper desired, the demon would do what it needed to keep itself fed.
Slinking up the path made of pebbles, and past the fountain that hissed and gurgled, the demon got closer to the front door. But it passed, turning a sharp left. Its claws dug into the side of the house, leaving deep groove marks all the way to where they stopped: by the window. A drawn breath, licked lips. Knuckles white under tightly fastened bandages, and the pane sliding out of the way to make room for an entering body. The light splashed on the scar that dribbled down her face, and the hatchling within the room hadn’t stirred to see.
“Run! Please! The demon’s going to-” Viper yelled, but stopped, as always; realizing it was pointless. A hoarse throat in her normal form was not worth screaming at no-one to run. She had the front seat, but not the controls. Watching a murder through the eyes of a killer, unable to prevent the events.
A paw wrapped around the hatchling’s throat, and it flailed about in the demon’s grip for a minute before passing out cold. A bluish tint rose to his scales, and his book was left open at page 48. The demon’s mold began to return to her paws as the hatchling became nothing but a blackened corpse; her strange features shrinking and searchlight eyes switching off.
When Viper awoke again, she was back on the platform. Sometimes she left and visited a small Clan in which resided those who trusted her, though whenever she did, she felt the pangs of guilt.
Because she knew if she told the demon she loved them very, very much; they would rot.
[quote=form]
@NightRising
freedom/no freedom:
character(s):
description:
extra:
[/quote]
form wrote:
@
NightRising
freedom/no freedom:
character(s):
description:
extra:
any more questions, i missed anything in the above setup, please feel free to ping or pm me. despite how i seem when i'm not directly speaking to someone (in these posts) i assure you i'm quite alright.
any more questions, i missed anything in the above setup, please feel free to ping or pm me. despite how i seem when i'm not directly speaking to someone (in these posts) i assure you i'm quite alright.
if you order from me a lot and i really like you, i might be inclined to give you a little extra something.
wink wink.
if you order from me a lot and i really like you, i might be inclined to give you a little extra something.
wink wink.
i will gladly accept any and all eggs. please offer them. i would love to write for an egg as payment.
[item=unhatched plague egg] [item=unhatched light egg] [item=unhatched ice egg] [item=unhatched nocturne egg] [item=unhatched lightning egg]
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Many matchy g1s up for offer here! Send a PM!
