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(If you want more than 4,000 words we can discuss more prices.)
For Original Story Commissions I will charge a base fee of 160 ($2.00 equivalent) along with the word count price due to the effort, research, and time that will be put into them.
Commissions should be paid for in the donation box, and settled before I start writing
I write for:
Once Upon a Time (TV Show)
Batman (Animated Series, Arkham games, and Nolan films)
Black Butler (anime)
Peter Pan (Disney, 2003 film, or book)
The Hobbit (films)
Lord of the Rings (films)
Attack on Titan (anime- limited)
Phantom of the Opera (Film, musical)
Harry Potter ( Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy)
Van Helsing (2004 film)
Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood (anime)
Hellboy 2 (Nuada)
Howl's Moving Castle (film, novel)
Star Wars (Original, prequels, Force Awakens)
Ouran High School Host Club (anime)
BBC's Sherlock (Sherlock only)
Castlevania Lords of Shadow (video games 1 and 2)
Beauty and the Beast (Disney or other)
Fable (video games 1 through 3)
Jade Empire (video game)
Some Ships and OTP's
Rumpelstiltskin/Belle - Once Upon a Time
Mr. Gold/Emma Swan - Once Upon a Time
Rumpelstiltskin/Cora - Once Upon a Time
Loki/Jane - Thor (Avengers)
Loki/Darcy - Thor (Avengers)
Loki/Sif - Thor (Avengers)
Jareth/ Sarah- Labyrinth
Thorin Oakenshield/OC - Hobbit
Skulduggery/Valkyrie- Skulduggery Pleasant
Erik/Christine- The Phantom of the Opera
Joker/Harlequin- Batman the Animated Series
Captain Hook/Wendy Darling- Peter Pan
Dorothy/Scarecrow- Wizard of Oz
Caspian X/Lucy- The Chronicles of Narnia
Snape/Hermione- Harry Potter
Draco/Hermione- Harry Potter
Gaston/Belle- Beauty and the Beast
Howl/Sophie- Howl's Moving Castle
El Gallo/Louisa- The Fantasticks
Eric/Sookie- True Blood
V/Evey- V for Vendetta
Cain/DG- Tin man
Vegeta/Bulma- Dragon Ball Z
Clopin/OC- Hunchback of Notre Dame
Gringoire/Esmeralda- Notre Dame de Paris musical
Zuko/Katara - Avatar: the Last Airbender
Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills - Sleepy Hollow (TV Show)
Kenshin/Kaoru (Ruouni Kenshin anime)
Ned/Chuck (Pushing Daisies)
Levi/OC (Attack on Titan)
Armin/OC (Attack on Titan) </b>
Scribe to Countless Muses
Hey guys! I'm Tarnisis, but you guys can call me Lyn! I am fanfiction writer by trade, and as you can see I write for many different fandoms. I have been writing and posting fanfiction for 6 odd years now, and have hopes of publishing originals down the road.
I write normal fanfiction as well as Reader Inserts, and have learned to enjoy both. I DO write commissions, so check my info and hit me up if you're interested in one.
Also, it is my wish that my readers share my journey with me, so please don’t be shy! I always love to talk to those who share my passions!
Also I have accounts on Fanfiction.net, Wordpress (Fangirl Scriber), and A03. To avoid plagiarism I will list my pennames for the following sites below.
Fanfiction.net= Lyn Harkeran
Wordpress = TarnisisLH or Fangirl Scriber
Stamps and a lil' slice of awesome
~Gifts, Fanart, and Commissions~
(Dark, Part 3 [End]): Dancing - Commission: inkandparchment23
Sherlock x Reader: Amber Blush
It was getting late, but you were far from tired. Quite the opposite actually, seeing as you were about to spend time with the one and only Sherlock Holmes. You smiled to yourself at the thought, secretly basking in the fact that you were able to visit him whenever you saw fit. He wasn’t always talkative or mentally present when you came over, but for you it was more than enough. Though to be fair, your free reign in 221B Baker Street was a rather new arrangement.
It had only been a month since you had told Sherlock how you felt about him (after he had saved you from committing suicide) and since then the detective had changed. It wasn’t drastic; he was still dreadfully blunt and deducted personal things from your appearance- but his manner was somehow. . . softer. For starters, he allowed you to visit almost every night of the week (having passed you a spare key) and didn’t say a word of protest when you happened to sleep on the couch.
All in all, you could say that you were happy with the silent understanding that had passed between yourself and the reclusive Mr. Holmes- though you doubted you’d ever get used to it. Sherlock was an entity all unto himself, and you knew that no matter how much you cared for him, that he’d never be able to give you the fairy-tale romance and family that most women came to hope for. But despite this, you were content with your lot and always eager to spend time with him.
You felt your smile grow in size as you came face to face with the door to 221B, and quickly pulled your key out of the depths of your jeans. Faster than a flash you had slid the key into the lock and let yourself in; without knocking or otherwise announcing your entrance. The first week or so after Sherlock had granted you access to his and John’s private abode, you had been hesitant to enter without a firm invitation. But now, after the hum of familiarity had long since taken hold, you let yourself in without a second thought.
The flat was a mess (as always) but it was homey and you noted that Sherlock had re-cataloged all his books in the living room shelves. Seemingly top to bottom. You guessed it was most likely due to their level of relevance to Sherlock rather than being in alphabetical order or in regards to the authors. He was funny like that; relating to things in ways others would never even imagine.
“Allo, boys! It’s me,” you called gently as you fully entered the flat, hanging up your winter coat on a hook and dropping your bag on the couch. You had a pressing project to work on tonight, so you had brought your laptop and all of your research notes- plus some groceries, seeing as the boys never had much food lying around.
When there was no answer to your greeting, you peaked your head into the kitchen, and grinned knowingly as you caught sight of your favorite detective poised over his microscope. If John had been present, he would have called back in welcome- but he hadn’t. So it was safe to assumed that you and the consulting detective were the only one’s home.
You stared at Sherlock for a good minute from the doorway of the kitchen, taking in his diligently slumped form as he remained oblivious to the fact that he had company. Simply clothed in his purple dress shirt and black slacks, one of your favorite ensembles that he had, he worked regally.
His eyebrows were arched ever so slightly in concentration- his curly, dark hair was more chaotic than usual from when he had clearly run his fingers through it. And then there were his intent iceberg blue eyes that sparked with utter intelligence, as he studied the unknown elements upon his current Petri-dish.
After another moment of observing Sherlock, you wordlessly moved over to his side, leaning down to place a quick kiss to his sharp cheek. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your lips, and you found your heart fluttering in your chest as you returned to your full height. You knew you’d never get used to the feeling of having him near, and the thought made you giddy somehow. You were glad that Sherlock was still a mystery to you. You had always loved surprises and he was rather talented at delivering them- despite his brisker nature.
You turned away from Sherlock, after the kiss, knowing full well that he was in one of his work-induced trances and hadn’t even computed that you were there. It was nothing new. He usually remained unaware of your whereabouts for the first few hours of any given visit. So you were far from alarmed by his blind ignorance, and merely went about your business.
After running in to use the loo, and then flopping unceremoniously upon the couch (with Sherlock right in your line of sight), you pulled out the bottle of soda you had brought with you and hunkered down. Once your laptop had powered up and you were plugged in to the nearest outlet socket, you opened Word Processor and began to type. You had recently taken on a new story commission, and had decided that you would be finishing it over the weekend. You had another twenty pages to go and could feel the creative fire beginning to overflow in your belly. So you gave way to it, feeling your soul purr with satisfaction as your fingers delicately stroked the keys. Each word made your conscious soar a little higher, until you were lost to the tale you wove. Despite it being a commission, the plot line was something you found interest in, so the process was rather pleasant.
You couldn’t say how long you were lost to your art, or how much you had completed before you felt it, but the time that passed appeared to have been a mere matter of minutes.
At first you didn’t notice it, but as the seconds ticked by, you felt the familiar prickle run up your spine. Someone was watching you. Someone with a gaze that could look upon the very soul of a person and read the answers imprinted there like one reading a book.
You stubbornly forced your fingers to stop moving upon your keyboard, before slowly raising your eyes to glance at the man who sat only several feet away from you. Immediately your breath caught in your throat. Sherlock was staring at you, and you didn’t have the foggiest idea why. You placed your laptop aside as you gave him your full attention.
“Hey,” you said bashfully, flashing him a small wave of your hand. “You okay?”
Instead of answering you, Sherlock continued to stare. Then he closed his eyes and visibly sniffed the air. You waited quietly, knowing that he would be unable to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn’t disappoint.
“The hand cream you’re wearing- it’s different than the brand you normally wear.”
You had expected him to say something random, but his comment openly startled you.
He gave you an impatient and inquisitive look, his intent blue eyes studying your face as if he was looking at a puzzle. “Your lotion, (F/n). It’s not the peppermint variety you usually wear.”
“Oh. . . N-No . . . No, it’s not.”
For a long moment you and Sherlock were silent; him sniffing the air in large inhales while you blushed madly. You had thought that your skin couldn’t have turned redder, after the first time Sherlock had kissed you a month prior. . . But you had been wrong. Now was so much worse. The smell of your lotion was probably distracting him from his work, and he most likely despised it. . . You hadn’t even considered that your choices in personal hygiene might be problematic, and yet here you were - fogging up 221B with unwanted female scents.
“What is it?”
Your focus returned to Sherlock as his deep baritone filled your ears. You had always had a weakness for his voice, but now it made your gut turn in anxious circles.
“It’s from Bath and Body Works,” you divulged shamefully, hanging your head so you wouldn’t have to see his reaction. “It’s called Amber Blush. . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
You instantly broke off as you heard Sherlock’s chair creak, and your gaze lifted to regard him. Sherlock was a tall man, and you had to tip your head back to see his face, as he strode over to where you were sitting. You watched him cautiously as he crouched in front of you, his hands coming to rest on either of the armrests, caging you in, as he leaned in close. Your breath hitched in your throat as Sherlock once more began to inhale. He had never been this close to you before, other than the two or three kisses you'd shared. It was an utterly new experience for you, and you mentally chided yourself for how shaky you were.
For what seemed like a lifetime, Sherlock continued his sniffing, before he pulled back enough to look you in the eye.
“Amber Blush: an appropriate title. . . It suits you,” he said quietly, granting you the smallest of smiles, as his iceberg blue eyes regarded you. “Raspberry, vanilla, magnolia, gardenia, and something else. . . I like it.”
Your eyes grew comically wide. “You what?”
Sherlock chuckled softly before he leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, making you shiver again as he enunciated each word. “I like your perfumed cream, (F/n). It perfectly matches your natural scent.”
More heat rose to your face as you felt his breath tickle your earlobe, but before you could think more on it, he had pulled out of your personal space, and was walking back to his microscope.
The moment was gone, as quickly as it had come. Sherlock was apparently done with his intimacy, and was capable of returning to his work without batting an eyelash. Though you on the other hand, were a shaky mess with all coherent thoughts gone from your head.
Your hands shook almost violently as you pulled your computer back onto your lap; your heart racing as you fought to breathe in a regular pattern. Though you always got euphoric around Sherlock, it seemed that tonight you had completely outdone yourself. You were a right and proper fangirl mess, and your face felt like it was on fire.
Cursing, you shook your head to clear the daze, and forced yourself to return to typing your commission. Though if you had looked up at Sherlock in that moment, you would have seen the hints of an amused smile dancing behind his iceberg blue eyes.
Sebastian x Baby Reader: Valentine Rendezvous
It was almost midnight and Sebastian Michaelis, the demon Butler of Ciel Phantomhive, sat in quietude within his private chambers. In the darkly furnished room, that he was able to call his own, the demon no longer stood on ceremony- having long since been left to his own devices for the evening. His usual dress coat and shoes had been shucked and all that remained of his uniform was the shirt and pristine sleek black pants.
It was a fact that demon’s rarely needed physical rest, so Sebastian had made no move to sleep, and had opted for his normal silent contemplation. Each night, after his Master and Mistress had retired, the butler would sit at his window, gazing out onto the bleak London nights and think upon his past and present. . . until he heard it.
It would start as an almost imperceptible whimper; only sought out by his ears alone. Then as the minutes would creep by, the sound would grow to a soft little wail and Sebastian would rise from his chair and stalk through the halls of the Phantomhive Manor to deal with the problem. With shoeless feet he would stride, every night like clockwork, from the servant’s quarters past his Master’s bedroom, towards the nursery- an amused light shining from his wine colored eyes as he found his Master’s daughter wide awake and crying.
(F/n) Phantomhive, the eight-month old daughter of Ciel and Elizabeth, was a night owl. And every night, long after her parents were taken by slumber, she would awaken in a teary gale in the dark. And every night, Sebastian would find her reaching out to him from her crib; anxious for him to pick her up so their nightly ritual could begin. Tonight was no exception. Though Sebastian had done something he’d never done before, surprising both (F/n) and himself. For instead of waiting for the babe to cry for him, he had merely scooped her up as the stars had risen and taken her with him. Now as they sat within his room, the little girl finally woke, her (e/c) colored eyes growing wide as she realized that her Butler was already holding her. With a chubby hand, the Phantomhive heir reached for his face, happiness spreading across her dimpled features as her nose scrunched in a silent giggle. It would seem that her usual grogginess was forgotten in the moment of surprise, for her eyes were as bright as if it was daytime.
How very strange, Sebastian thought as he let the child pat his face. I would never have believed that a human child would ever be eager to greet me. . . and yet this little one shows no fear. . . Much like her father, when we met so long ago. . .
“Good morning, little one,” he welcomed softly, as she cooed contentedly. “I trust you are well?”
She didn’t reply in words, but the large, slobbery smile she graced him with her two little teeth was more than answer enough, and he let his gloveless hand gently run over her peachy little cheeks and chin. This made her giggle again, before she sat up in the butler’s lap and began to jabber at him. It was a string of pure noise and nonsense, but Sebastian listened to it patiently and spoke accordingly when she looked at him expectantly.
“Of course, my lady. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you in your gilded prison.” He assured her. “Especially when we both know that you’d have awoken in a few hours, begging to be rescued.”
“Ahhhhmmmm!” She nodded at him, as if she could understand, before she began to bounce making him raise his hands to support her so she wouldn’t tumble from his lap.
“My lady knows what day it is, does she not,” he chuckled as the tyke continued her bouncing.
“Seeing as your parents have left for the holiday, I figured we could enjoy the lapse in our schedule,” Sebastian explained with an unreadable twinkle in his claret eyes. “Valentine’s Day is meant for those close to you. Or so I’ve been told.”
(F/n) stopped bouncing to stare at him, her little hands resting on his chest as she stood up on his legs and looked him straight in the eye. For a long moment she was still before she slowly raised her little chubby hands on either side of his face and leaned forward. Sebastian chuckled again as he brushed his nose against the child’s, noticing the adoring look her little features held with some mild amazement.
It was true that Demons were heartless creatures, but somehow the little Phantomhive had melted what little he might have had. Since the moment of her birth, Sebastian had cared and watched over her, and despite her obvious love for her parents, it was clear that the little girl was attached to him too. . . It was a ridiculous thought, to say the least- but it didn’t stop her from giving him that trusting little grin or crying for him when she was afraid or in need of a diaper change. And somehow Sebastian found that he didn’t mind her dependence as much as he thought he would.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Young Mistress,” he crooned as the clock chimed 12, marking the 14th of February.
“Daaa,” (F/n) said as she leaned further in, kissing her butler with a slobbery little mouth.
Sebastian nuzzled her back, before chiding gently, “Beware, little one. Your father is the only one who has claim to that title. He will be very upset if he hears you granting it to a simple butler.”
“Da-da~!” (F/n) crowed, ignoring his warning with the sweet innocence that Sebastian had come to know her by. “Da-da, Da-da~!”
Sebastian gave her a genuine smile as he kissed her soft forehead and brought her closer into the crook of his arm.
“Come now, my Mistress, you must get some more rest if you wish to enjoy the day.”
“I shan't go anywhere, little one, you have my word,” he vowed, as he wrapped her blanket securely around her and began to rock her in the chair that sat next to his bedroom window. “So sleep to your contentment. I shall be here when you awaken.”
(F/n) continued to stare at him for a long moment, before her little eyelids began to droop. And with each rock of the chair she drew closer to slumber. Until at last, she was lost to the world, a tranquil expression spread across her dimpled, baby face.
Sebastian Michaelis watched her peacefully as the minutes ticked into hours; rocking to the soft beating of her heart. Knowing that his own hollowed out one would have surely beat along with hers, if it had still been whole.
“You are quite the charmer, young mistress,” he complimented in a whisper as his wine colored eyes glowed humorously in the darkness. “Though I would expect no less from a Phantomhive.”
|Dancing into the Night: Next Chapter|