Writing

Ginger Is Seeking Out Writing Trades~ (Closed)

August 28, 2010 - 2:52pm — GingerNut

That's right.

Most people do art trades...

But I'm doing writing trades! :'D

Mainly because I've always wanted to see how others interpret my own characters. I love doing gift writings just because I love how people love seeing their own characters written out for them. I've always wanted to have that feeling too... Even though all I do on this site is write anyway xP

Therefore, I'm offering writing trades. I write something for you, and you write something for me.

I'll write anything you want, character interactions? Check. Characters themselves? Check. Anything. Anything at all. I don't care, I'm at your mercy.

All I ask for in return is a character writing of any of my own characters. I don't care who. Do whatever ya like~

Also, I wish that you would let me do my part of the bargain first, just to see how the length turns out. It often varies with me, although I can assure you that my writings for characters will always be of a nice length~ If it's too short for you, then I apologize... I often stick with drabbles when it comes to other people's characters.

I hope that this is alright... considering how I don't think many (or any) have done something like this before.

Mkay, so for now, I'm opening four slots. Trades will be closed if I actually reach max, which I doubt, but oh well.

ONE MORE THING~ Please be patient with me, as I often tend to spend a ton of time on stuff that I write for others, just becuase I always want to get the character exactly, or at least close to be correct.

OH YEAH AND ANOTHER THING~ When you get done with your own part of the trade, then could you please link it to me here? I tend to be rather oblivious when it comes to going-ons at the community xP huhu~

Thank you all so much for actually reading this~ I love you all <3

Writing

The Lure of Sorrow (A Nekumbra shortstory)

August 28, 2010 - 8:39am — quadraptor

Continuation of The Grotto of Sorrow, which is the tale of my baddie, Nekumbra. Also inspired by playing her earlier today.

Warning, may be disturbing to younger readers

Two fawns happily played at De Drinkplaats, splashing in the water, transforming into little animals and laughing with each croak and caw. The two had left their mother for the moment, who had wandered off to gossip with the other does about which stags they thought were the most handsome.

While the two little ones played, another doe came toward them. Her black eyes stared at the two with hungry thoughts, and she smiled, keeping herself from salivating. She spoke softly to them, standing just outside the ring of mushrooms as the words came from her lips, "Hello darlings. My, you two look lovely today." The two looked to her curiously, "Do you know our mother?", they asked.

The doe nodded, "Why yes, she told me to come gather you up. Come now, I will take you to her.", she replied.

One of the fawns looked to the other, "I don't like this...", she said to her brother. "Don't worry, she said she knows Mom.", the brother replied. The two started to walk to the doe. She didn't seem dangerous...

In the distance, the fawns' mother heard the screams coming from the fountain. She and a few others raced to see what the commotion was about. As they arrived, they were horrified to see a shadowy deer seeming to hover in the air.

They could not believe their eyes - eight spider legs held the doe up, four on each side of her body. They then saw that she was holding two fawns with her - the younger girl was wrapped up in spider silk and held pressed against the doe's white belly by her legs, while the boy was being gripped in her mouth.

Writing

mini spell

August 28, 2010 - 6:55am — hmarmstrong

look, whoever gave me that mini spell just now. I thank you so much! I have to get it again because my computer glitched up again. btw I really want some friends on the game. I feel so lonely. every time I try to be friends with someone the turn on me and leave. except for two people tenley, arapaho, and some random person. I also need one of you to give me the mini spell. I figured that you can't get it on your own so i think one of you could put the twist on me again. please do, if you want to see my picto, go to my blog and it should take you rest of the way. If not please reply to this blog entry. see yah then.

I leave and live, or stay and die...!

Writing

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how to see my picto

August 27, 2010 - 4:28pm — hmarmstrong

If you want to see my picto, then go to my blog and go to my picto. look at the comment that says hmarmtrong in it. click on the green lettering, and there it is. That way you guys can see me on the game.

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Death of a Postman (Tribute to Dad)

August 27, 2010 - 6:21am — quadraptor

**I know I'm probably crossing some boundaries writing this since I know not everyone in TEF believes in Heaven, but I wanted to write it for my Dad and for my family to read. If this story is offensive to you, tell me and I'll take it down. I don't intend it to be an attack on anyone with different religious beliefs**

The crisp sunlight broke through the white linens, Tommy opening his eyes and sitting up. He sat on a soft, comfortable bed, never having any aches and always having a full rest each night. He looked around at the room - a nice chalet-style house was all his (well, for now anyway), the walls were a lovely brown wood, with a ceiling that rose at an angle. Matching wood cabinets and things were there, and there were a few pictures on the walls from his childhood as well as of his family. The bedsheets had the distinct scent of saltwater to them, which was oddly out of place but made him happy regardless. He looked out the window, seeing a lovely scenic forest. Birds chirped and sang songs he had never heard before, and he also saw a variety of animals roaming around and enjoying the land. He saw an occasional rhino, elephant, zebra, or gazelle walk around - they didn't really fit the environment but it didn't matter to him, he loved watching them anyway.

Getting out of the bed, he put on some casual clothes and walked around in his chalet. He had a library of detective novels and other fiction he enjoyed, including a copy of every James Patterson book ever written. He would come back to that room later and sit in an oversized chair to read Patterson's Maximum Ride. He continued on into a kitchen that had everything from milk, satsuma juice, orange-flavored tea (that was already hot and sweet for him whenever he was ready for it), and even a bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel whiskey that would never run out.

Writing

H e l p f o r t h o s e i n n e e d

August 27, 2010 - 4:30am — Pretzil

For the Community, certan people, and for anyone who has felt hurt before

Writing

Red

August 26, 2010 - 7:40am — quadraptor

He bathed himself in red
To warn others to stay away.
He wore the poppies in his antlers
To remind himself why he cried.
He shivered and shuddered
To run from a cold embrace.
He wandered to the Ruins
To mourn at the gravestones.
He sat among them
To remember his burden.
He let out a lonely sigh
To ease his suffering.
He bathed himself in red
To warn others...

Writing

The Rose in the Briar patch. conclusion.

August 25, 2010 - 11:49pm — thecapturedplanet

"it's nice out today, don't you think Briar?"

Writing

Caged (Non-TEF Shortstory)

August 25, 2010 - 5:26am — quadraptor

**This is a little vent writing...but I know it can be interpreted a number of different ways. Let me know how you interpreted this if you don't mind. I'll tell you all later how this story relates to me.**

Each one of us has had our days where we felt like a prisoner: trapped, confined, caged. You wake up early in the day, dreading the day ahead as it will be long and tedious, much like a caged animal.

You awake and remember that you are a prisoner, metal fencing separates you from being able to do whatever you'd like. The fence is tall and there seems to be no way out. You get too close to the metal and feel a sharp sting in your skin as an electrified wire touches you. You back away quickly, remembering your mistakes from before. There's no way out of this place, and even to attempt an escape would be painful in itself.

You sit and think why you have to go through a life like this. You close your eyes and dream of being free. You dream of a vast plain for you to run, an endless sky full of birds and clouds, bountiful food and friends to share your freedom with. You dream about it every day.

And then you remember...

A young boy stands at the fence of the cage, smiling and waving to you. You approach the fence, not getting too close that you'd be shocked again, but enough for him to talk to you. He even reaches his hand in, holding treats for you to eat. You smile and accept his gift, the treats are delicious and you even amuse him by licking his palm. The boy gets to touch your face, a treat in his own way. He rarely has ever touched such soft fur.

The boy says goodbye and runs off. And you are glad for the day that you had been visited by such a nice human. But then you remember once again...

The promise of freedom, you remember that you would one day be set free.

Writing

The Xemnas Reports; Entry six

August 24, 2010 - 11:23pm — thecapturedplanet

Writing