Offered: Icons/Drabbles/Poetry/Correspondence
Alright, so I only just discovered this community, but I'd hate myself if I didn't at least try to help this cause. I don't have many skills, but I'm offering all I can think of.
Offer #1: I'm offering 10 (ten) 100x100 icons/avatars. I'm not the greatest graphics-maker in the world, but I'm pretty good, and I'm always learning. I will try my hardest to meet your specifications. I'm familiar with the Harry Potter fandom and a number of TV shows:
Bones, Burn Notice, Chuck, Cold Case, CSI: NY, Doctor Who, Eli Stone, Heroes, House, John Doe, Life, Medium, NCIS, New Amsterdam, Now and Again, NUMB3RS, Secret Diary of a Call Girl, Third Watch, Torchwood, Ugly Betty
Examples of my icons are here.
Minimum bid: $2.
Buy It Now: $10.
Offer #2: I'm offering 10 (ten) 100-to-300 word drabbles with the prompt of your choice. They can be original fiction or Harry Potter. I will write any ship except Harry/Hermione. I will write slash, femmeslash, het, gen. Any era, any rating.
Prompt: Sun
She kicked the sun from her hair like a yapping puppy dog that just wanted to be pet with one step under the awning. It was effortless, almost offhand, but it wouldn't leave my mind as she pecked me on the cheek and turned to regard the three children playing amid the dying grass of our back yard. Her hair was duller in the shade, almost grey, it seemed like. In the sun it shimmered gold and amber, an impossible, improbable gemstone colour that took my breath away and made me shiver in the hot, humid air. The first time I saw her she was just a year or two older than the babies that were playing tag in front of us, and her hair was the first thing I noticed about her.
I love her still, I think. After twelve years of marriage, I always thought it would be clearer. Now, though, it almost seems as if it gets muggier as time passes. I know her better after twelve years, certainly, but I don't know that that makes me love her more. Three children later, she's not the same woman I fell in love with the first time, and not just physically. She's more demanding, less comforting. She always seems to want, and only ever seems to give to the little ones. I want to scream, yell at her, "I'm here! Can't you see me?" but that's just childish. I stand behind her as the lip-print fades from my cheek, feeling kicked away like the sun.
Prompt: Rain
You look like a small child, playing in the rain with a smile and a laugh on your face, and I can't help but grin, even as I try to scold you. "You're a Prefect, now," I say. "You've got to set an example!" but you just jump in another mud puddle.
Your red hair is auburn with a slick wet reflection, your blue eyes are shadowed and glittering, and I want to drown in them - in you. "Come on, Hermione," you say, twirling in the downpour, and I bite my lip. I glance at the sky uncertainly, but let go of my inhibitions in one moment and dash from safety.
I'm soaked in a moment; my thin spring dress turns a darker shade of blue, but I ignore it. I splash about carelessly, shove you over, and off-balance myself as well. We've fallen; we're muddy and slick and grabbing each other to get up but only succeeding in pulling each other down, and then you kiss me.
It's sweet and wet, and you're sweet and wet and we're lying in mud but it's beautiful. Beautiful and wet.
Prompt: Rain
He stopped breathing. It wasn’t the most intellegent thing to do, he knew, but his lungs wouldn't deflate in his chest. His heart wouldn't pound - wouldn't stop pounding. It had wandered up to his ears now. Lips on his - boy lips on his. He didn't know what to do. He'd only ever kissed girls, but this wasn't so different - it was completely different. He leaned forward, into the wet and the sweet and the orange tang, like day-old Chinese takeaway. He couldn't breathe - won't breathe - wasn't breathing, and the other mouth slipped away.
"Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry-" his lips tried to spell out, stuttering over each other like they really shouldn't do, but there was no air; no sound came out.
"What was that?" asked Malfoy.
He couldn't breathe. The black was fogging the edges of his vision like rainclouds. He turned, stumbled away, silent words still spilling out of his mouth, falling over each other. He tumbled past the card players and reaches the door. The handle wouldn't turn in his hand; he grappled with both and finally wrenched it open. It was pouring outside, real rainclouds to match the ones blocking his vision, and he walked right out into it. His hair slapped down against his forehead, his clothes stuck to his wet skin, but he could squash his eyes shut and ignore it.
He could pretend he didn't just kiss Draco Malfoy, didn't just inhale that orange addiction, so he did and took a deep breath. He shivered, suddenly cold and wet - the shock set in and he noticed he was standing in the street with rain pouring down. Everyone at the party must be disturbed; he should go back in. Back to the sofa and the status quo. He Apparated away with a crack like lightening.
Minimum bid: $5
Buy It Now: $20
Offer #3: I'm offering 10 (ten) pieces of original poetry with the prompt of your choice. I will write almost any rhyme scheme (provided it's not too complicated), but would rather I were allowed creative freedom. I can do light-hearted or angsty.
Prompt: Contradiction
Cherries
The silent fingers
click clack click clack
The invisible nails are
so black so black
Painted with acetone
Tapping a poem
The dried up stems are
alive alive
The rotted cherries are
so ripe so ripe
Dripping on hand
Unbroken they stand
The dulled knife has a
keen edge keen edge
The white-silver blade
shines red shines red
A whisper, a cut
Still untouched
Fingers, nails
click black, so clack
Stems, cherries
alive, so ripe
The knife, blade
keen red, shines edge
Mix it up and turn it around
Drip drip falling down
Onto the fingers, onto the ground
Drip drip falling down
Prompt: Because
Excuses
Because life isn't fair
Because I don't cut my hair
Because I'm a bad girl
Because this is the world
Because it just is
Because there too many kids
Because you made a mistake
Because I don't know what to say
Because there are no words
Because I hang out with nerds
Because you have no friends
Because this is the end
Because your family hates you
Because you don't know what to do
Because you need a hobby
Because your knees are knobby
Because you're too tired
Because the world is wired
Because I can't make up my mind
Because you crossed a line
Because I'm lying
Because you're dying
Because you're not tough
Because I didn't love you enough
Prompt: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
Yesterday
I read a rec
And it was good
Oh so good.
But bothersome.
Today
It followed me
Into public
"RON. IS. HETERO-SEXUAL!!!"
Bit humuliating.
Tomorrow
It will be good
As good as yesterday
And perhaps odd
But it'll be worth it.
Prompt: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
Yesterday
You screamed
I bit my lip
Said nothing
Today
I screamed
You talked softly
But still I blame you
Tomorrow
No-one screams
We will cry
Perhaps that will be better
Prompt: "Juxtaposed" "Antique"
One Dark, one Light
One black, one white
It's hard to say
Which is which
We stand by the mirror
Watching each other
Your arms on my chest
My head on your breast
Any moment one could say
Those words to end it all
Any moment they could break
The weighted blade could fall
We shouldn't be together
Black and white, juxtaposed
We were told it's just not right
Our minds are too opposed
And yet...
One Dark, one Light
One black, one white
It's hard to say
Which is which
We stand by the mirror
Watching each other
My arms on your chest
Your head on my breast
As the moments pass by
We grow ever nearer
We are the other's light
And the other's mirror
We are perfect together
Black and white, and antique
We are perfect, and right
The same and yet unique
Prompt: Dialogue
Sensitivity
It's just a scratch
Of pencil on paper
That dragging sound
It should be sharpened
It's just a match
I'll strike it later
I've always found
There's only one moment
It's just a noise
I needn't jump
It wasn't so loud
What's wrong with my mind?
They're only boys
I shouldn't run
Or feels so cowed
I'm acting blind
There's an iron spine
In everyone
A point we reach
Where we say, "No".
There's a fine line
That says we're done
A step we take
That brings us low
In this cruel place
I can see your face
Through mirrored glass
On the other side
In this dark earth
I can speak to her
Tell her my story
If she would hear
Prompt: Angst
War Echoes
Scream at me and tell me lies
It's sweeter than the truth, sometimes
You're such a fool, a stupid man
Always wrong
Always dragging me down
My feet in place, my frozen plans
It's guilt that keeps me where I am
I can't grow up, create my own
A part
A part is you, but still there's me
Get me a drink, find me a light
It seeps out through my pores at night
You don't see, you cause the pain
Never
Never forming new opinions
My hands are clenched, my eyes wide
It destroys my weary pride
I never know, I cannot choose
Too long
Too long you went, not seeing me
Walk away, you know you should
It's always my fault, always
You blame yourself, you blame me
Hated
Hated by the world, it seems
Caught between
Love and hate
Life and death
Stop and wait
Air and breath
Entropy that pulls us down
Why can't I submit?
Letting go would be so nice
Unloose my fingers bit by bit
Help me out, I can't decide
It's too hard, I don't know why
Is it you or I now
I've spun, got dizzy
Now fall down
Minimum bid: $5
Buy It Now: $20
Offer #4: I'm offering at least 12 (twelve) letters, handwritten, at least two pages front and back or four pages front only, of writing - one per month. I don't have fancy stationary, but I've been wanting to buy some for a while now, so you can even have a say in the style if you like. I'd like at least a few emails before sending off the first letter, to get a feel for you, but there it is. Sketches, doodles, drabbles, anecdotes, whatever. A shiny envelope in your mailbox each month. My handwriting is legible, if a bit swirly. I'd be willing to type, but I think that would lessen the creative aspect.
Minimum bid: $10
Buy It Now: $40
Contact: hekate101[at]gmail[dot]com
Offer #1: I'm offering 10 (ten) 100x100 icons/avatars. I'm not the greatest graphics-maker in the world, but I'm pretty good, and I'm always learning. I will try my hardest to meet your specifications. I'm familiar with the Harry Potter fandom and a number of TV shows:
Bones, Burn Notice, Chuck, Cold Case, CSI: NY, Doctor Who, Eli Stone, Heroes, House, John Doe, Life, Medium, NCIS, New Amsterdam, Now and Again, NUMB3RS, Secret Diary of a Call Girl, Third Watch, Torchwood, Ugly Betty
Examples of my icons are here.
Minimum bid: $2.
Buy It Now: $10.
Offer #2: I'm offering 10 (ten) 100-to-300 word drabbles with the prompt of your choice. They can be original fiction or Harry Potter. I will write any ship except Harry/Hermione. I will write slash, femmeslash, het, gen. Any era, any rating.
Prompt: Sun
She kicked the sun from her hair like a yapping puppy dog that just wanted to be pet with one step under the awning. It was effortless, almost offhand, but it wouldn't leave my mind as she pecked me on the cheek and turned to regard the three children playing amid the dying grass of our back yard. Her hair was duller in the shade, almost grey, it seemed like. In the sun it shimmered gold and amber, an impossible, improbable gemstone colour that took my breath away and made me shiver in the hot, humid air. The first time I saw her she was just a year or two older than the babies that were playing tag in front of us, and her hair was the first thing I noticed about her.
I love her still, I think. After twelve years of marriage, I always thought it would be clearer. Now, though, it almost seems as if it gets muggier as time passes. I know her better after twelve years, certainly, but I don't know that that makes me love her more. Three children later, she's not the same woman I fell in love with the first time, and not just physically. She's more demanding, less comforting. She always seems to want, and only ever seems to give to the little ones. I want to scream, yell at her, "I'm here! Can't you see me?" but that's just childish. I stand behind her as the lip-print fades from my cheek, feeling kicked away like the sun.
Prompt: Rain
You look like a small child, playing in the rain with a smile and a laugh on your face, and I can't help but grin, even as I try to scold you. "You're a Prefect, now," I say. "You've got to set an example!" but you just jump in another mud puddle.
Your red hair is auburn with a slick wet reflection, your blue eyes are shadowed and glittering, and I want to drown in them - in you. "Come on, Hermione," you say, twirling in the downpour, and I bite my lip. I glance at the sky uncertainly, but let go of my inhibitions in one moment and dash from safety.
I'm soaked in a moment; my thin spring dress turns a darker shade of blue, but I ignore it. I splash about carelessly, shove you over, and off-balance myself as well. We've fallen; we're muddy and slick and grabbing each other to get up but only succeeding in pulling each other down, and then you kiss me.
It's sweet and wet, and you're sweet and wet and we're lying in mud but it's beautiful. Beautiful and wet.
Prompt: Rain
He stopped breathing. It wasn’t the most intellegent thing to do, he knew, but his lungs wouldn't deflate in his chest. His heart wouldn't pound - wouldn't stop pounding. It had wandered up to his ears now. Lips on his - boy lips on his. He didn't know what to do. He'd only ever kissed girls, but this wasn't so different - it was completely different. He leaned forward, into the wet and the sweet and the orange tang, like day-old Chinese takeaway. He couldn't breathe - won't breathe - wasn't breathing, and the other mouth slipped away.
"Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry-" his lips tried to spell out, stuttering over each other like they really shouldn't do, but there was no air; no sound came out.
"What was that?" asked Malfoy.
He couldn't breathe. The black was fogging the edges of his vision like rainclouds. He turned, stumbled away, silent words still spilling out of his mouth, falling over each other. He tumbled past the card players and reaches the door. The handle wouldn't turn in his hand; he grappled with both and finally wrenched it open. It was pouring outside, real rainclouds to match the ones blocking his vision, and he walked right out into it. His hair slapped down against his forehead, his clothes stuck to his wet skin, but he could squash his eyes shut and ignore it.
He could pretend he didn't just kiss Draco Malfoy, didn't just inhale that orange addiction, so he did and took a deep breath. He shivered, suddenly cold and wet - the shock set in and he noticed he was standing in the street with rain pouring down. Everyone at the party must be disturbed; he should go back in. Back to the sofa and the status quo. He Apparated away with a crack like lightening.
Minimum bid: $5
Buy It Now: $20
Offer #3: I'm offering 10 (ten) pieces of original poetry with the prompt of your choice. I will write almost any rhyme scheme (provided it's not too complicated), but would rather I were allowed creative freedom. I can do light-hearted or angsty.
Prompt: Contradiction
Cherries
The silent fingers
click clack click clack
The invisible nails are
so black so black
Painted with acetone
Tapping a poem
The dried up stems are
alive alive
The rotted cherries are
so ripe so ripe
Dripping on hand
Unbroken they stand
The dulled knife has a
keen edge keen edge
The white-silver blade
shines red shines red
A whisper, a cut
Still untouched
Fingers, nails
click black, so clack
Stems, cherries
alive, so ripe
The knife, blade
keen red, shines edge
Mix it up and turn it around
Drip drip falling down
Onto the fingers, onto the ground
Drip drip falling down
Prompt: Because
Excuses
Because life isn't fair
Because I don't cut my hair
Because I'm a bad girl
Because this is the world
Because it just is
Because there too many kids
Because you made a mistake
Because I don't know what to say
Because there are no words
Because I hang out with nerds
Because you have no friends
Because this is the end
Because your family hates you
Because you don't know what to do
Because you need a hobby
Because your knees are knobby
Because you're too tired
Because the world is wired
Because I can't make up my mind
Because you crossed a line
Because I'm lying
Because you're dying
Because you're not tough
Because I didn't love you enough
Prompt: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
Yesterday
I read a rec
And it was good
Oh so good.
But bothersome.
Today
It followed me
Into public
"RON. IS. HETERO-SEXUAL!!!"
Bit humuliating.
Tomorrow
It will be good
As good as yesterday
And perhaps odd
But it'll be worth it.
Prompt: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
Yesterday
You screamed
I bit my lip
Said nothing
Today
I screamed
You talked softly
But still I blame you
Tomorrow
No-one screams
We will cry
Perhaps that will be better
Prompt: "Juxtaposed" "Antique"
One Dark, one Light
One black, one white
It's hard to say
Which is which
We stand by the mirror
Watching each other
Your arms on my chest
My head on your breast
Any moment one could say
Those words to end it all
Any moment they could break
The weighted blade could fall
We shouldn't be together
Black and white, juxtaposed
We were told it's just not right
Our minds are too opposed
And yet...
One Dark, one Light
One black, one white
It's hard to say
Which is which
We stand by the mirror
Watching each other
My arms on your chest
Your head on my breast
As the moments pass by
We grow ever nearer
We are the other's light
And the other's mirror
We are perfect together
Black and white, and antique
We are perfect, and right
The same and yet unique
Prompt: Dialogue
Sensitivity
It's just a scratch
Of pencil on paper
That dragging sound
It should be sharpened
It's just a match
I'll strike it later
I've always found
There's only one moment
It's just a noise
I needn't jump
It wasn't so loud
What's wrong with my mind?
They're only boys
I shouldn't run
Or feels so cowed
I'm acting blind
There's an iron spine
In everyone
A point we reach
Where we say, "No".
There's a fine line
That says we're done
A step we take
That brings us low
In this cruel place
I can see your face
Through mirrored glass
On the other side
In this dark earth
I can speak to her
Tell her my story
If she would hear
Prompt: Angst
War Echoes
Scream at me and tell me lies
It's sweeter than the truth, sometimes
You're such a fool, a stupid man
Always wrong
Always dragging me down
My feet in place, my frozen plans
It's guilt that keeps me where I am
I can't grow up, create my own
A part
A part is you, but still there's me
Get me a drink, find me a light
It seeps out through my pores at night
You don't see, you cause the pain
Never
Never forming new opinions
My hands are clenched, my eyes wide
It destroys my weary pride
I never know, I cannot choose
Too long
Too long you went, not seeing me
Walk away, you know you should
It's always my fault, always
You blame yourself, you blame me
Hated
Hated by the world, it seems
Caught between
Love and hate
Life and death
Stop and wait
Air and breath
Entropy that pulls us down
Why can't I submit?
Letting go would be so nice
Unloose my fingers bit by bit
Help me out, I can't decide
It's too hard, I don't know why
Is it you or I now
I've spun, got dizzy
Now fall down
Minimum bid: $5
Buy It Now: $20
Offer #4: I'm offering at least 12 (twelve) letters, handwritten, at least two pages front and back or four pages front only, of writing - one per month. I don't have fancy stationary, but I've been wanting to buy some for a while now, so you can even have a say in the style if you like. I'd like at least a few emails before sending off the first letter, to get a feel for you, but there it is. Sketches, doodles, drabbles, anecdotes, whatever. A shiny envelope in your mailbox each month. My handwriting is legible, if a bit swirly. I'd be willing to type, but I think that would lessen the creative aspect.
Minimum bid: $10
Buy It Now: $40
Contact: hekate101[at]gmail[dot]com