♡Fawned Of You
Writing Commissions

Welcome, and thank you for taking a look at my writing commissions!

Commission Information

PRICING✦ $2 per 100 words for non-poetry
✦ $5 minimum for poetry (potential for upcharge with longer poems)

TERMS & CONDITIONS✦ I am not, at the moment, willing to write heavy NSFW. For 18+ audiences ONLY, NSFW topics and fade-to-black scenes, as well as light NSFW content, are acceptable!✦ What I'm comfortable with and willing to write is non-negotiable and is completely up to my discretion. This includes (but is not limited to) topics promoting racism, homophobia, transphobia or that mention bestiality or incest. Feel free to ask if you have any questions!✦ DO NOT take credit for and/or edit any of my work! If you post my work anywhere, please credit me via my discord account.✦ Commissions are non-refundable unless I haven't started on them yet.

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Examples

All writing below is credited and belongs to myself.

Sample Poem #1

The black, suckling depths of the ocean
Boast shadows swishing with deepest currents
Woven with wringing spectres, leviathans in that empty vacuum of spaceOne must know that even pearls are wreathed with darkened clouds that frighten their lustre
Nestled in swirling sands which are thus disturbed
By currents, set prowling, like panthers.Aphrodite burst from such a place,
Gasping, grasping at the sea foamWe know the ocean like a mother,
And also like a father–
Familiar to us,
Yet so far away.

Sample Poem #2

Silken words of a velvet night
Black licorice against the inside of my cheek
Pinpricks of stars against blackened sheet
Still don’t quite live up to the stars on my ceilingThose I prefer, those are sweet
Plastic, plastered, glow-in-the-dark
My childhood bedroom was lit by the glow
Of false constellations-
Ones picked by the hand
Of a child who, for once, was allowed to play godA time long-forgotten, yet clutched to my chest
Perhaps, even grown, I should arrange them above my bed
And, as I sleep, dream of a world
Sweet as sugardrops:
Stars stark against the night,
Twinkling faintly, laughing,
Braiding my hair.

Sample Poem #3

Let me be your Prometheus
I will steal the fire of the gods for you
Eat my liver out time and time again
Let it bloody your teeth, my love
As they glint with the fire of the new worldWrite to me
And I will break like an eggshell over the pages, my love
I will wrinkle and fissure like the dryness of the desert floorI will crackle along fault lines,
I will split along the threads of me
If you tie them to you, my love
Fill me with the bitterness of your bile,
With the lifeblood in your veins,
With the essence of youBreak me and make me whole again.

Sample Short Story #1

If you live somewhere that gets hot–really hot–then you know the heat is like a sickness, roiling and simmering and almost audible in all its venomous seething. The blistering summer sun is a force that is strong enough to reach down into sidewalks and paved roads and crack them like parchment; it’s strong enough to fragment the world below it and crush it together into shards of dry earth and broken glass. Arizona summers were no exception; in fact, they were perhaps the poster-child of such unforgiving weather, the arid deserts whose dusted clay stretched thinly over the state only serving as proof that heat had snapped all of the moisture from the earth.Cheyenne herself especially felt the weight of such powerful sunrays today, as the climate was apparently hellbent on beating its way through the windshield of her banged-up 2006 Toyota Corolla. Not even a thick pair of sunglasses could shield her from the heat waves rising up off the pavement, and her open car windows served only to tangle her hair into impossible knots rather than keep her cool with a breeze. It was mid-day, and though she would have much preferred to take shelter inside and curl up somewhere cool, burrowing away simply wasn’t an option right now.The car’s tires kicked up dust as she drove along the highway. It was a road that cut through open desert, spearing the land through its very heart before carving smoothy through its surroundings, a snake slithering through the dirt and leaving a pathway behind with its belly. Though the road had probably once been tar-black and neat, it had long since fragmented like an eggshell, splitting apart piece by piece. How long would it take to break away from itself completely? Time and wind and wear-down by tires were probably the biggest contributors to its deterioration, but the sun was not blameless here either. Even now, it was making the pavement sweat, heating it up and breaking it down as it did with all things.Cheyenne’s mouth twisted into a frown, the expression matching her eyes rather well, as they were, for the moment, consistently narrowed to brace themselves from the light. Through her lenses, the sunlight danced off of her deep brown irises and lit them up with a golden glow. It was only an illusion, a trick of the light, though a pretty and distracting one at that. The girl, however, knew better than to revel in any sort of warmth or beauty that sunlight had to offer. It was a dangerous thing, and one she didn’t take so lightly anymore, even as it glared off the off-white paint of her car’s dingy exterior. No, Cheyenne much preferred the rain now–at least it told the truth, instead of painting a rose-tinted reality. In movies, it always stormed when something bad happened, as if the sky was supposed to be a foretelling of things to come. Cheyenne could remember vividly, however, that it had been bright and sunny on the day when everything in her life had gone wrong.

Sample Short Story #2

Daddy always told me that no one could hoof it alone out there in the misty Oregon woods, and especially not a woman. Hell, droves of men have wandered into those wilds and never made it out, he’d say, eyes narrowed like a hawk’s. It was true, that; plenty had tried to settle underneath those pines, and there their bones still sat, twisted and gnarled within the tree roots, bones bleaching in the sun. Picked clean. Set out to dry.But see, I think that was the problem. Plenty of men had tried to settle those woods. They’d all been in search of lumber, of rich furs, of tyranny and conquest. So harsh; so intrusive. What this forest needs, I think, is a subtle woman’s touch. They don’t call mother nature as such for no reason, you see.Since Mama took to the sickbed, well… I’ve decided there’s nothing left for me with Daddy, nor with the settlement.
“Where are you to go?” You might ask me. There’s no other direction to go but East, after all, back on the dusty caravan trail that I came from, back with the oxen and the wagon wheels and the hot, choking dust of the summer sun. Either that, or I could go to the forest.The forest is full of secrets, they say. Always draped in mist, like the gossamer folds of a witch’s cloak. Animals’ eyes always watch you from the gloam, glinting like little silver coins–and the townspeople often hear howling at night, yet… no wolves had ever been ensnared in any of the traps that the hunters lay out beneath the pines. It isn’t right, they say–isn’t natural. I think that’s okay with me, however. A bit of secrecy is just what I need for a change, and perhaps a bit of the unknown. I think I’ll build me a little cabin in the woods, I will; line the doorframes with ivy and the floor with moss and wildflowers. Hell, maybe by the end of things, I’ll be the witch of the woods and draw the mist around myself like a cloak, and float from star to star on foggy nights, howling at the moon myself, or else join what (or who) has been howling at it in the first place.Oh, witches! Howling at the moon! The church’d have my head for such thoughts alone, I think. Then again, I feel as if no holy book could ever have hold of those brumous, shadowed woods, could ever reach its tendrils out that far into such an impermeable and delicious darkness.

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