冷月如霜 @writesfic - Tumblr Blog

[ MALIGNS' COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN! ]

Hello from your local friendly cryptid, it's ya girl Maligns / Rose. My commissions are open again since I've got some time on my hands. I’m a writer with 7+ years creative writing experience. I’m willing to write anywhere between 500 - 8000 per commission, with anything above that limit being negotiable. All proofreading and editing is done by me.

WHAT I WRITE:

Original fiction / fan-fiction / literary style / self-insert

AU/canon settings for fanfiction, original characters, ships/pairings

No limit on themes or mature topics / NSFW. RPF and self-inserts are also allowed, though I reserve the right to turn down any commission requests.

PRICES:

I charge 25 USD per 1000 words, rounded to the nearest 500 (i.e. 2k and 2.5k are both acceptable word counts).

My starting price for commissions is 10 USD / 500 words

I offer large-scale revisions for commissions over 5k for an extra 20 USD.

Once the details are agreed upon, I require at least half payment up front.

GENERAL INFO:

Please be as specific as possible when requesting a commission, especially if it's original fiction or of original characters.

Regarding fanfiction, you can check my non-exhaustive fandom list here. Or, feel free to message me with the fandom you’re looking for and I’ll let you know if I’m able to write for it.

Commissions will require some discussion. Please be prepared to provide me with details.

By commissioning me, you agree that the commission may be posted on my Tumblr under ‘commission tag’. The commission is intended for personal and non-profit use only. Do not submit sell reuse distribute or repost the commission in any manner.

WRITING SAMPLES:

Finished commissions

General writing samples

AO3

Please contact me at maligns on Discord if you are interested in commissioning me! I don't check tumblr too often. Thanks!

#writing commissions #commissions open #writing #commissions #fanfiction commissions

writing commissions are currently open! i am an experienced and highly literate writer, with close to a decade of experience. please see my pinned post for T&Cs. :)

#writing request #writing commission #writing commissions open #commissions open #fanfiction

Hi! I'm interested in a Fire Emblem: Three Houses fic! Lmk if you are interested and have the time, and we can discuss further! Thank you!

Hello, thank you for the interest, apologies for getting back to you a tad late. Are you still up for a commission? I have been easing back into commissioning as of late and would be more than happy to write something for you! Feel free to contact me through IM if you wish to discuss further. :)

#writing commissions open #writing request

writing commissions are currently open! i am an experienced and highly literate writer, with close to a decade of experience. please see my pinned post for T&Cs. :)

#writing #writing commissions #writing request #commissions open #commission

nick robinson x self-insert

warning: nsfw, kidnapping, restraints, very mild dub-con at the beginning

Flo wakes up slowly, blinking a few times and taking notice of his surroundings. He’s confused by the environment, but he can’t figure out the reason why. He tries to stand up and move around, but restraints keep him in place.

Then, all at once, he realises the situation he’s in and starts to panic. He’s tied to a chair with thick cords of rope around his waist and his wrists behind his back. He’s held in an unfamiliar room: there’s a window at the far side, and he can’t see much from this angle - only the tops of trees and the sky beyond. The room itself is surprisingly pleasant; it’s spacious, well-decorated and gives off a homely vibe. More noticeably, there’s a door that’s tightly shut at the corner of the room.

#writing commissions #writing requests #commissions open #writing commissions open #commission tag #writing #nsfw commission

blight (alt ending)

warning: nsfw, inc.est

As the orgasmic haze fades, clarity rushes in like a gush of cold water and the pressure of the blight flares anew. Though the painful throb is immediate and overwhelming, it does nothing to overshadow the guilt running through Alex’s veins like poison.

Alex’s hands tremble by his sides. Eyes remain fixated on the tile floor, wide and uncomprehending.

What the fuck did he just do?

#writing commission #commissions open #commissions #writing requests #writing request #commission tag #writing #nsfw commission

luke hudson x self-insert

warning: nsfw, trans piv, afab terms

At first, Flo thinks he’s dreaming. Never in all his life did he think he’d have the opportunity to act with Luke Hudson as his scene partner. Even when he’s dressed, Luke is extremely sexy. Flo keeps on getting lost in his wide, puppy-dog smile and can’t stop thinking about his soft hands when they’d given each other a handshake.

Flo can barely think straight as they plan the scene - something about them being friends of a sibling or such - but he keeps finding Luke’s eyes over the meeting table. Luke’s slightly shy but tempting gaze makes Flo want him so badly, and Luke picks up on it, because he keeps on smiling coyly, as if he can’t wait for them to start filming either.

#commission tag #writing commission #commissions open #commission #writing #nsfw commission

alduin & alucard : battle .

Alucard wasn’t used to surprises. Due to his enhanced abilities and a thick roster of powerful connections, high and low, he took pride in the fact that he was rarely made the fool. However, he had to concede that being forcibly ripped from his daily routine and transported into this strange, unfamiliar landscape without a moment’s notice hadn’t been within his realm of prediction.

Upon setting foot on the platform, he’s met by a long pathway, littered with wizened statues and protruding, hollow bones. The skyline above him made an even more impressive sight: a dazzling mix of greens and golds, speckled by an endless sea of stars; a drastic change from the smog and drab grey of English scenery. He took an unnecessary breath, just to see if it made any difference. The air seared with something electric, sizzling in his redundant lungs in a way that reminded him of being burned by fire.

#writing commissions #writing request #writing commission #commissions open #commissions #commission tag #writing

fandoms.

games: until dawn, the last of us 1 & 2, celeste, detroit: become human, fire emblem: three houses, fire emblem: engage, a way out, soma (2015), uncharted

shows: teen wolf, supernatural, merlin, kingsman, hannibal, wednesday, it, sherlock, marvel mcu, stranger things, mo dao zu shi, bad buddy, true beauty

literature: the hunger games, harry potter, call me by your name, twilight, a picture of dorian grey, the great gatsby

animanga: attack on titan, jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia, kuroko's basketball, sword art online, link click, death note, 19 days, erased (dake machi), owari no seraph, free!, no. 6, detective conan, haikyuu, the promised neverland, babylon

m x trans f excerpt

warnings: non-con, rough sex, name-calling, slapping, ddlg, d*ck humiliation, under negotiated kink

#writing #nsfw commission

mono - porcelain; pearl.

The signal of the tower is ringing in his ears. As he falls inches from the exit, he only see her, the outstretched hand, the dash of yellow and the pointed tip of her hat until she is nothing but a yellow smudge high above him.

He falls and falls and falls. When he lands, the mounds of viscera catch him, cradle the blow of the impact. He hates it, shies away, but the matter is everywhere he turns. He cannot escape.

Mental walls are not strong enough to see past the fleshy exteriors of the wall, and he spends most his time blindly patting them, searching for the undulations, hoping to find an exit from his search.

After a few hundred rounds, he has to concede, there is no exit. The more he investigates, the more he realizes his power resides within the power, how the structure pulses and warps under his control, the master of puppet strings.

He is tired.

In his mind, now effortless, he conjures a chair, sits.

As the tower ripples with his diminishing powers, he sits and contemplates, that girl he had saved those years ago, that bright smear of her raincoat taunting him.

In fitful sessions, he manages to elude the world and slip into a dream. Instead of the viscera that’s grown as his backdrop over the years, there is a porcelain pearl world awaiting, a wash of clean white.

The tower is eternally in the distance. He recognises the static he’s surrounded by, the sort of world that would be without him in this tower, the utter annihilation of his presence and the magnetic glow of radio static is for the people around him.

He imagines a world where she’d closed that distance, had latched onto his hands with hers. A warm foundation of trust, the same way he had freed her from the stranglehold in the schoolyard, her stubby little fingers clawing at the rope around her neck as she’d struggled.

He imagines being with her, escaping somewhere, anywhere. He closes his eyes and imagines the rocking of a boat, the vastness of the sea.

When he wakes up to darkness, he sits in the memory of the chance he’d lost, and seethes.

#found this sitting in my drafts #think i wrote this after watching gameplay of ln2 which was 2 yrs ago lmfaooo #welp #little nightmare mono #ln2 mono #little nightmare #little nightmares #writing

change / recovery / growth

mo guan shan doesn’t realize how much he’s changed over the summer. weeks can span like a lifetime. the lingering bruises on his face don’t show splotches anymore, but he still remembers the oblong splashes of purple against his skin. he remembers the scratch of the bandages and the ache in his heart that’s only grown into something unnameable.

coming back to school, his skin pulls too tight over his body. he sees the same, familiar faces down the hallways, but his own feels alien when he catches sight of it in the bathroom mirror. softer, but also less pained. as the dark ring around his throat healed, it’s taken all the hurt with it too.

the absence of all that weight makes him feel functioning, like a passable human being. he says hi to his classmates, volunteers to answer a question at the front of the class, gets it wrong. it all feels so... normal.

he tian meets his eyes from his seat, smile a little fonder than before. he catches himself before doing something embarassing - like smiling back. instead, he receives the shitty lunchbox with sure hands, takes the time to savour each grain of mushy rice and the salty tang of convenience store meat.

change comes by slow and uncomfortable, but he’s slowly getting the picture. there’s no iou. what he tian has done, is doing for him, he’s unable to count any longer. it’s a debt of a lifetime; no point in keeping score. he takes peeks out of the corner of his eyes, greedy with what he can get away with. he tian still feels comfortably the same, but things between them have shifted irrevocably as spring bloomed into summer and yielded the start of autumn.

that sweet ache in his chest stings. somewhere along the line, he’s told himself that he deserving. he wishes abstractly for these endless, sweltering, halycon days where he feels nigh on invincible to never end. he gets to have this. he gets to have him.

#tianshan #19 days fanfiction #19 days #He Tian #mo guan shan #jfc its been so long i have forgotten all my tags wjkdfksfk #but these few chapters have been making me sad/happy so i needed to write #writing

home

mo used to think that he tian stuck out like a sore thumb in his household when he came over, but now he seems to fit between the two of them, holding a bowl of soup that looks a bit too comically small in his large hands. he tian catches him looking and smiles at him, eyes drifting into the cresent moons he knows intimately; mo still sees the afterimage of malice that lit up his kind eyes, the tang of blood and sweat as he had thrown himself at that overheated body and sunk into his space like he’d lived there.

mo’s fingers twitch. the clock keeps ticking on the wall, loud, long. eternity. it is hell, just standing there effused in banality, waiting for time to pass so that he can find another moment with him again. mo’s dipped into the heat of his body, it’s not enough.

“the soup, it’s good.” he tian says, polite.

there’s a time where he would have felt ashamed. he would have twisted that innocuous statement to attack his own insecurities, moulded the words jagged so they could hit where it hurt. but he tian’s has shone with sincerity with all that he’s done - he’s run out of excuses, run out of blinders to tell himself otherwise. they’re poor, the soup is bland. knowing he tian, it’s probably the blandest ass soup he’s ever tasted. but he’s... he’s still here.

mo is searching for he tian’s warmth before he knows it, his fist clutched loosely around fabric, tugging at him, impatient. he doesn’t know what he wants (he does, he does) - all he knows is that he needs to be drowning in that heat, he needs to put his hands on him again.

“he tian...” mo whispers into the quiet of his bedroom, and then he feels the rough palm of a bandaged hand against his. god, when he touches him its like his heart stablizes - his hands are shaking but his mind is clear.

slowly, delicately, he inches forward, fingers lifting, tracing up the collar of his shirt, shy and slow, until he can feel he tian’s pulse racing against his fingertips. he tian’s eyes are so dark, flickering down to his parted lips intermittently, waiting for him to draw them together.

mo breathes out, close enough to feel he tian’s breath against him, and he slots forward. the soft press of he tian’s lips, the hot warmth of his hands stroking his back, the cords of his neck moving under his palms as his jaw works; it’s making him lightheaded. he can’t stop kissing him, breaths coming out of him in desperate spurts, the slick soft sounds of their lips moving together into the quiet - his heart is burning with it, trembling and full.

where they’re connected, he tian strokes over his knuckles tenderly, and it’s like that last piece of uncertainty falls away. it’s like his world has tilted, falling into place.

(come home with me, he tian asked him, blood smeared across his face.

he is. he is home, mo presses the answer against he tian’s lips.)

#tianshan #19 days #19 days update #mo guan shan #he tian #its 3 am so no proofreading #u kno how it #just delirious rambling bc my heart is full #writing

ch 380. 靠肩

The salaryman’s already fucked off, hiking his glasses up and picking up the pace through rain. The stare makes me vindictive, all edges. I never thought I’d feel so protective over the tension building namelessly between us.

“Scared to be seen?” You whisper, breaths hot against the shell of my ear.

It’s too late to ask that when you’ve already seen all of me. Fingerprint bruises in a ring around my throat, the sting of my frustrated eyes. That day, you looked into my eyes and saw my lonely existence and cried. The kiss you pressed to my cheek like I was something delicate, the most excruciating part of it all.

I lean my temple against the warm curve of your shoulder, allow my body to be cocooned against yours. You know my answer by now. I’m not scared anymore.

#tianshan #tianshan fanfiction #19 days #19 days fanfiction #the update was so fucking cute i'm deceased.#this is cheesy but in my defence SO ARE THEY #writing

kierkegourd

i went to the icu, you’re out of critical today. lights are off and the corridors are empty by 10pm but i sit by you, dizzying relief: i’m just glad to see you breathe. i truly didn’t think you’d make it through the night. the doctor jokes, i thought you didn’t have it in you, and the laughter seizes up in my throat. i took the train home yesterday knuckles white on the suitcase handle, wondering if the next time i saw your face would come right before the crematory. today, i sit by you and watch you breathe.

#poetry #writing

blight (oc commission)

nsfw under the cut

warnings: inc.est, mild dub-con, nsfw, vague references to neglect

Alex never likes meeting his own eyes in the mirror. He’s always seen a propensity for anger behind them, how they could turn dark and unkind. These days, he checks religiously to make sure that the whites of his eyes are intact.

They’ve just wrapped up a case in Boulder, Colorado. He’d call it successful - they’d exorcized the demon from the poor girl’s body and sent it back to hell. Still, demons were nasty, slippery motherfuckers and he didn’t escape unscathed.

He rolls his t-shirt up gingerly, sucking in a breath when he sees the gash on his side. It feels like there’s something alive, roiling and twisting just under his skin. It’s been over a day by now, but the wound still feels fresh.

His hand strays to the burner phone. He flips the brick around in his palm in a practiced motion. Still no messages, no calls. He’d call Dad about the blight, but it’d sting worse if he didn’t pick up. After another moment of deliberation, Alex pockets the phone, letting it settle heavy along his thigh.

He lowers his shirt, rubbing a hand gingerly over the mark before steeling himself and heading out. As long as Ben doesn’t have to know, he thinks. The kid would worry sick if he knew about it.

Ben smirks as he catches sight of Alex rounding back to the car, “stomach problems?”

Alex schools his features and rolls his eyes, “I take five minutes in the crapper and you’re already whining. Suck it up.”

#commission #writing commissions #commissions open #writing commission #commission tag #writing #nsfw commission

nightmare (oc commission)

Even before Formalhaut opens his eyes, he hears the steady blips of a heart monitor resonating in his ears. There’s something clipped to his finger. Already, he knows where he is - he’s back in the facility ward. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood cooped up in that room, idling time as he watched over his brother. He’d been fascinated by the pristine stillness of his own face, mirrored underneath him.

When he opens his eyes, he’s the one lying in bed. The hazy quality of his vision alerts him that he’s dreaming. He looks up to see his brother standing over him, a hand placed lightly on the railing as he’d done. When their gazes interlock, Formalhaut shivers. Cygnus’ eyes burn with cool dispassion; Formalhaut’s certain that he despises him.

Cygnus reaches down slowly to take him by the shoulder. Formalhaut used to do that too, latch onto him in the vain hopes of departing some comfort. Yet, there’s no good will in Cygnus’ actions. Fingers grip onto Formalhaut’s clavicle with a bruising strength. Fomalhaut feels a lance of pure, unadulterated fear, but as weak as he is, he’s unable to stop him.

Subconsciously, Formalhaut knows he’s able to muster the strength to fight back. Yet, he harbours no resolve. Like a butterfly pinned to a chalkboard, he’s splayed open for inspection and ripe for judgement.

Cygnus gouges into Formalhaut’s wings, and it feels like being torn asunder as delicate structures are ripped apart like paper. Blood runs into the bedding like the aftermath of a battlefield.

“Cygnus… I’m sorry - !” Formalhaut gasps with pain, wings fluttering weakly.

Cygnus doesn’t acknowledge his plea. “I hate it when you visit me. You look down on me, just like this. Do you know how I felt?”

“I know…” Formalhaut says, but the words feel disingenuous. How could he have known? He’d treated Cygnus for granted despite the bond they’d shared, and the sinking feelings of regret are too little, too late.

“You think you’re so smart,” another voice chimes in.

The two tones mesh and fracture against one another, grating on Formalhaut’s ears. He lifts his eyes. While Cygnus’ form is still visible, the amalgam being has Mars’ eyes. They glow softly, backlit by the overhead glare of the ward’s lighting, brimming with accusation.

“You must have loved it, being ten steps ahead of everyone else. A king on his throne playing a game of chess.” Mars sneers as Cygnus’ fingers draw new blood, “tell me Formalhaut, did you win?

Formalhaut shakes his head fiercely, but it's as if his lips are sealed shut. He isn’t able to breathe, drowning in his guilt.

“Leaving me to rot was a calculated risk,” Mars continues, a bitter smile growing on his face, “congratulations - now that all your attachments are dead, you’re finally free.”

Formalhaut wrenches away from the accusations, bringing his blankets with him to the floor. He peers blearily at his surroundings before recognising the simple decor of his apartment, and takes a deep breath to calm himself.

Shakily, he pulls open a drawer to rummage for medication. He must have forgotten to take it earlier. Swallowing the two tablets dry, it leaves an astringent taste in the back of his throat. He massages his temples, where a pounding headache threatens to overtake him.

Ever since that day, Formalhaut has always slept uneasily. He’s lucky that the nightmares have grown sparser over time, but his regrets never fade in full. A simple association can bring him back years, or worse, to a better memory. Those always hurt the worst, souring immediately in hindsight.

Gradually, he stands and pads over to the kitchen to make tea. He’s indifferent to the taste, but the routine soothes him. His fingers tighten on the kitchen counter and he closes his eyes, swaying in between reality and sleep. He still sees the ghostly images of his brothers’ eyes. As he recalls the hatred in them, the walls of the apartment press in on him, and the ghostly accusations remain oppressive and loud.

The dark thoughts are cut through with a whistle. The kettle comes to a boil, and the scent of camomile breathes some life back into him. He keeps staring at the rising coil of smoke, but can’t bring himself to drink. It’s typical of him, brain in overdrive as he watches meticulous plans fall to ashes, and the people around him gather their sorrows and move on. Years later, he still sits in that grief, left behind in the dust.

It takes a long time for his hands to stop shaking.

#writing commission #writing commissions #commissions open #commissions #commission tag #i've been neglecting to post my commissions here ... whoops #better late then never i guess #writing

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