The Basement

Welcome to the basement, where I keep my original characters hidden away. Sometimes I set them free to tell stories. (They are still my original ideas though, so anything on here, unless I specifically say its based on something, is my own. Please don't steal it or anything like that because then I will be sad.)

[creaturesinthebasement]

Writing Commissions!

Hello there!

So writing is a thing that I very much enjoy doing, and money is a thing that I am in need of. (Curse you college, is my suffering not enough?) I decided hey, why not combine the two?

I am opening up writing commissions!

This is the first time I’ve done anything like this, so bear with me. Basically, I am taking commissions for original stories- not fanfiction- and all payment will be through paypal. Ever come across a prompt that you’d really like to see written, but can’t find the time or energy to do it yourself? I’m happy to help! I am willing to work with something as vague as “do this prompt” or something more specific like “a were-ostrich struggles to tell her secret to her closest friends”. Below are prices and some more specifics of my dos and don’ts.

Prices

500 words and below: $5

501 - 1,000: $10

1,001 - 2,000: $15

2,001 - 3,000: $20

3,001 - 4,000: $25

4,001 - 5,000: $30

5,001 - 6,000: $35

6,001 - 7,000: $40

7,001 - 8,000: $45

8,001 - 9,000: $50

Over 9,000: price may vary upon request

Don’ts

I will not do smut. I’m okay with romance, kissing scenes, making out, etc, but I’m not going to go that far in a scene. The best you’ll get is an implied, fade-to-black sort of deal.

No pedophilia, or incest, or anything like that. Just no.

No fanfiction. I’m a bit paranoid about legality, so I’m not going to accept commissions for fanfiction. That said, if you would like to request a fanfiction and I have the time, I’m happy to write it for you. And if you like it so much you’d like to slide a small donation my way… well, I will thank you kindly. I’m familiar with a lot of fandoms, so rather than list them all, it’s easier to just ask me if I know it. (If I start getting more requests for these, then I will make a more in depth post for it)

Dos

Pretty loose on this, honestly. I’m okay with violence, gore, horror, stuff like that. Pretty much any genre of fiction is fine by me. Personally a lot of my writing is in the fantasy category, but I can do realistic too. If you want me to use your OCs, let me know and I’ll send you a characterization sheet, so that I can be sure to get them right. If you want to see more of my OCs, and I haven’t already written something that fits what you’re looking for, I’m happy to do so! Just keep in mind that my characters are just that, mine, and anything I write for them will end up posted publicly.

If you simply have a vague prompt or request, I will likely create new characters to fill those holes. Don’t be surprised if they show up in later works- I tend to get attached to my own creations quickly.

If you don’t want your commission to be posted publicly, that’s perfectly fine, just let me know. Otherwise I will assume it is okay to post them.

[creaturesinthebasement]

Bittersweet Memories

Alright, another story! So, this was also for a creative writing class, and I believe the prompt was memories. I like to put supernatural twists in things, so of course I made it a bit darker than necessary. I may turn this into something longer one day, who knows. It also takes a little bit of inspiration from a poem I wrote in a previous class, but I won’t be posting that yet because I need to revise it some. Enjoy!

    I remember when the only weight on my shoulders was next week’s essay, or tomorrow’s quiz I hadn’t yet studied for. When my worries were small, mundane, nothing to really complain about. When being prohibited from going out with friends was the worst thing that happened, and sneaking out to see them anyway was the riskiest thing I’d ever done.

    I remember waking up on the weekends, standing in front of the mirror as I got ready, applying makeup and brushing my hair. I’d go out with my friends, or my boyfriend, to the movies or the mall, looking for meaningless trinkets that would sit on a shelf and collect dust. The days before the rumors started, before the whispers in my direction. Before sympathetic glances were thrown my way, and people seemed to avoid me like the plague. Before the words “mentally unstable” and “hallucinations” were thrown around as if I wasn’t even there. And maybe I wasn’t- I never knew anymore.

    It was never supposed to happen at school. I was already tense at home, jumping at the slightest noise. My family worried, but I just brushed it off and grabbed my backpack before heading out. School had been safe for me. No one there was staring at me as if they were trying to figure out how my head worked, or why I was flinching at noises apparently only I could hear. I wanted it to stay that way.

    That day had started off as usual; shuffling my way through the first half of classes as I slowly finished off a cup of coffee, or tea, or something of the sort. Then our lunch break, where my friends and I decided to stay at the school for the day. It was in the bathroom things went wrong. I was just washing my hands, reaching for the handle to turn the faucet off. Without thinking, I looked up.

    I’ve been told the scream was bloodcurdling. That teachers all across the school heard it, were terrified someone was being attacked or worse, killed. I don’t remember what happened afterwards, only what I saw in that mirror. I remember it staring at me, gaze blocked only when the bathroom door swung closed as I was pulled away. That thing on the other side, me but not me, never me, it was impossible. And it had moved, something a reflection should never do on its own.

    No one believed me of course. My friends dropped me faster than a bad signal drops a call. My boyfriend stayed longer, but the pressure got to him. No one else would go near me, and the incident in the bathroom wasn’t an isolated one. Soon he was gone too. I changed, like everyone else. I stayed in my room all day, got rid of anything glass, pulled the shades closed. In the bathroom I kept my gaze down, and I stopped wearing makeup altogether. It wasn’t worth it.

    I remember when I could look into the mirror without fear of what was on the other side.

[creaturesinthebasement]

The Fireplace

So, this is a nice little short story that I wrote in my creative writing class a little while ago. The characters in it are from a larger work but you don’t need to read that to read this. It’s sad and I don’t apologize for that.

    I still see the wreckage every time I close my eyes. The collapsed walls that used to be our home, the once white paint coated with mud and grime. Dirt spills out of what used to be the kitchen window, where we took turns washing the dishes. She would hum softly as she worked, turning and giving me a breathtaking smile when I would hug her from behind.

    The spare room is caved in, filled with broken boards and the giggles of children we’d never had. We’d wanted to; stayed up until the late hours of the night picking names, but it hadn’t happened. The room had been painted a beautiful lavender color, because “both boys and girls can enjoy purple,” was what she believed. None of that shade remains, tainted by dirt just as the rest of the house has been.

    Our bedroom is completely destroyed, nothing left but small slivers of glass and the occasional bed post. The threshold I so happily carried her over is buried by rocks and dirt, and the bed where we used to lie side by side, taking comfort in each other’s presence, is gone. The dresser where she would light candles to give the room a warm glow is rotted and filled with termites. Even the chair in the corner, where I would take time to simply relax and read a book, is nothing but a ghost of the past.

    Our bedroom took the brunt of it, being closest to the cliff when the disaster hit. When the rocks came tumbling down, carrying with them mounds of earth from the cliff side, they had gone through our windows first. The glass had exploded inwards, raining shards down. The walls and ceiling buckled under the weight of the dirt, slowly crashing down as the landslide continued.

    The fireplace still stands tall, surrounded by ruins. The only thing left standing, among a graveyard of painful memories and cracked foundation. A cruel joke that of all the things to survive, it was only the fireplace. Where we used to sit on cold nights, the merry crackling of the fire lulling us to sleep with warmth and the scent of pine needles wrapping around us. Where the fire inside had cast strangely beautiful shadows across the walls of our living room, but none so beautiful as her when she danced. Twirling barefoot across the floor, offering me a hand and giggling when I made a show of getting up myself and asking her if I could have this dance. The carefree smile on her face as we circled the room, hand in hand, holding each other close. The loving look that would appear in her eyes when I dipped her low and pressed my lips to hers.

    I would never see that look again.

    One moment had ripped that all away from us, one moment where I was unable to save her. If I had been quicker, maybe things would have been different. If I could have somehow warned her, maybe she would still be standing here. Instead it was just me, and that damn fireplace.

[procrastiwriting-deactivated202]

My main problem as a writer is that I don’t write because “I have a story to tell”. I write because there are worlds I want to visit, ideas I want to explore, people I want to meet, conversations I want to hear, emotions that I want to express, and impossibilities I want to make real.

Which means that I still need a fucking plot.

[creaturesinthebasement]

Nyoom!

This was inspired by a story my friend, space cadet, told me the other day and I thought it would be hilarious to turn it into a soulmate au story. So this is going off of one of the basic, the first words your soulmate will say to you are on your wrist thing.

(There’s a word that’s supposed to be in cursive but I have no idea how to do that so forgive me just imagine it)

    The girl walked down the sidewalk, humming softly to herself and absentmindedly watching the people passing by. She had just gotten out of class, and had enough time to grab a quick lunch before she had to get to the next one.

    As she was walking there was the sound of a bike behind her, a normal sound on campus. Although, this one sounded a bit closer than it should have been. The girl turned around, checking to make sure she wasn’t about to get run over. As she turned the bikesped past her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the grin on the biker’s face.

    Almost subconsciously, she let out a “Nyoom,” as the biker passed, laughing slightly. Immediately his head turned towards her, eyes wide.

    “Nyoom?” he repeated, surprised.

    Unfortunately, the biker was still pedaling as this happened. He wasn’t watching where he was going, and before the girl could shout a warning he crashed straight into a light post.

    “Oh my god, are you okay?” The girl ran over to the biker, concerned.

    He sat against the pole carefully, holding his head and still giving her an awestruck look. “You… you said my word.”

    The girl was confused at first. He had just crashed into a light post, and he was worried about what she’d said? He could have been hurt. He didn’t seem too bad off though, staring at her and holding out his arm in a way that revealed his wrist to her. Her eyes widened as she read the familiar cursive written there.

    Nyoom

    She could recognize her own handwriting, and she recognized the word as well. She had the same word written on her own wrist, in slightly messier script. She had always thought it was a weird thing to have said to her, but never would she have imagined this was how meeting her soulmate would play out.

    Looking at the young man again, she smiled. The words were never wrong, this was her soulmate.

    “I guess I did.” She extended a hand to help him up. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

[creaturesinthebasement]

Frenemies By Blood

Just a little short story I did a while ago. It was actually based on a tumblr prompt my friend sent me, but I didn’t have a tumblr then and I’m not entirely sure where the prompt was from. It was something about two magicians who made a pact as kids and can’t hurt each other, but now they’re enemies.

    “There!” Exclaimed a small boy, pushing his sandy hair out of his eyes. He gave a gap toothed grin and wiped his bloody hand on the oversized cloak he wore. The dark haired boy across from him nodded, doing the same.

    “Now we have to stay friends,” he said. “No matter what.”

                                                🍍    🍍    🍍

    ‘No matter what’ eventually turned out to be ‘until our differences cause global war.’ It was subtle, at first. Halving their pizzas no longer worked because a certain blonde magician started insisting he put pineapples on every goddamn thing he ate, and Daire had a serious allergy to them. They got around it though, and even though the price of pizza night boosted since they got two whole separate pizzas, it was fine. They still hung out, they were still friends. No big deal.

    Next came the ferret. After the pineapple incident, more than just pizza night became problematic. Daire eventually decided it would be best if they just ate separately. Since spending so much time in his room was lonely, and the pet fee for their apartment was low, he decided to get a little furry friend.

    Merlin the ferret was just a baby when Daire brought him home, no more than a palm sized white fluff ball. He stayed in Daire’s room for his first few weeks there, but soon made a habit of riding on Daire’s shoulders as he did various things around the apartment. Ivan quickly grew sick of it. Frankly, the little white ferret freaked him out. It was hard to miss, too. The pointed white face sticking out of Daire’s unkempt black hair was obvious, and it was soon impossible for Ivan to look at his friend without seeing the creature.

    Things slowly escalated from there. To combat the ferret, Ivan introduced Morgana. She was a ball python and he was hoping she would scare Merlin, but unfortunately Morgana was about as scary as a mouse. She spent most of her days cuddling with Ivan and while he loved the snake, he was very disappointed that his plan had failed. Daire thought it was hilarious, and made sure to take plenty of pictures when Ivan fell asleep with her. Soon tension in the apartment rose too high even for jokes like that, until Daire and Ivan were practically strangers.

    This continued until graduation. Their college was one of the rare few with magic folk and normal humans in attendance, and both magicians were proud to be graduating. Unfortunately, graduation was the final straw.

    Daire was enthralled with all magics, and wanted not only to learn more, but to do more. There were many restrictions in place against magicians and while some thought they were there for protection, Daire believed they were there to hinder magicians from their full potential. He frequently spoke out against them and led protests for this cause. Ivan, however, was the opposite. He was among those who believed the restrictions were there to keep both humans and magic folk safe. He thought that without the restrictions both humans and magic folk would get hurt too often, and he didn’t want that to happen. While Daire led protests against the restrictions, Ivan fought for them.

    Had that been all, they simply would’ve parted ways, albeit bitterly. Unfortunately, the world was soon thrown into turmoil over these restrictions, with several powerful magicians heading the fights. Daire and Ivan were each ranked high on their own side, and each fought hard in every battle. But never once had anyone seen the two magicians with the biggest grudges go head to head.