#getting ready for nano

[mossflower]

i need to write so bad

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

cries softly I'M JUST READY TO OPEN THE ASKBOX DANGIT

not that I don't enjoy/not looking forward to what I have left... but I wish it was already done so I have new things to write!! or at least imagine writing lol

sometimes I have things sitting on my list for so long that the more I look at it, I'm imagining it more, and then it gets. idk. kinda like the equivalent of my brain chewing a piece of gum for a long time till it can't taste flavor anymore??

my brain is like "well I've already thought about it for a while, now you wanna actually write it down??? lol no" BRAIN WHY

like

does that make sense or am I just nuts XD

[dahldahlbills]

nano day 16

word count: 385 (don’t look at meeeeee)

this is so embarrassing T_T every day this week the wc has gotten lower and lower but I’m doing my best okay I’m tryingggg

this does not bode well for the remainder of the month…

[harmonizewithechoes]

.

[corishadowfang]

The problem with writing Missing-Link fanfic before the game is out is that half of my actual predictions are wildly different from what I'm writing, but the other half are important plot points, so I have to say things like, "I think Lodur's going to appear and house Brain's heart a la Sora and Ven, and that happens because [redacted]," and I have to sit here for five to ten weeks before I can actually talk about it.

[loopyhoopywrites]

I'm getting cats!!

[asterdeer]

nano in three days. sick to my stomach (with excitement)

[badass-sunshine]

I just want to WRITE my brain has been buzzing with so many ideas lately

unfortunately I am full-time employed and then some so I can't dive into my stories fully. I carry a notebook though and write ideas when I can.

[cowandcalf]

Notebook

for @space-ace-ravenclaw-demigod because you’re the absolut Queen of headcanons for the boys. This one is for you, babe.

“You’re too early!” Steve enters through the lanai rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Half past we agreed.” Danny parks his butt against the old chest of drawers next to the dining table, nipping at a steaming coffee.

Steve throws the towel over his shoulder and without even batting an eye he reaches for the coffee mug and gently removes it from Danny’s hand. “You made coffee? How long are you already here? You’re not an early bird. I am. Nervous?”

Danny elevates his eyebrows. “You have no manners. That’s my coffee - “ He touches his lips with the fingers Steve just brushed with his own ocean-wrinkled fingers a second ago.

“It’s my house, my mug, my coffee maker - “ Steve just watches Danny over the rim of the mug like observing a target through spyglasses about two miles away.

Still, Danny can’t tell if this is worth something to lose a night’s sleep over. “Sometimes you’re a child.”

Steve laughs and walks away with Danny’s coffee.

“And just for the record. I’m not nervous. It’s court. Nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s important today though. I want this asshole behind bars. We need to be on time.”

“I’m always on time. Gimme me five minutes. Three to shower, two to get dressed. Get the files, would you? On the desk by the window. I made some further notes just in case.”

Danny listens to Steve’s retreating steps, follows him in his mind to his bedroom, hears the opening of the closet doors, and then the low snick of the bathroom door closing. The running water makes him heave a sigh. He forces his mind off those images he has no right to think about. He turns to get the files and grabs them only to stare at a notebook Steve must have left by accident. It has a look that doesn’t fit Steve’s image of a neat freak and a we-do-it-the-Navy-way nerd. It’s well-used with dog ears and rings of coffee cups. It looks like it has been pushed one too many times in the back pocket of some pants without a care in the world how it would survive. It looks maltreated. It’s so unfamiliar to see this piece lying on the desk next to a stack of plain white paper, pens and other writing utensils neatly orderd, books, and other things a man needs to keep his affairs in order.

Danny knows it’s wrong but he has no control over his hand that touches the notebook. It’s the kind of cheap notebook one can buy in any shop. No title. He opens it. The first page is filled with doodles and just drawings, nothing makes sense. Some single words are written repeatedly like ‘sun’, or ‘wind’, or ‘brothers’. The next three pages are empty except the circles. All kinds of shaped circles. The most interesting page is full of hand-written text and the title says ‘what makes me happy’ with a skull sketch right next to it.

Danny knows he should close it. This is private, intimate to a level he has no right to pry about but the way the letters move together and form that sentence tugs at something inside his chest. Steve must go to therapy and this is one of his homework he has been ordered to do. He has never mentioned therapy sessions. Danny feels a sting of hurt because yeah, because he wishes Steve would trust him with this.

Steve’s handwriting is always full of self-esteem, accurate and solid. But this here . . . these screams of insecurity and feeling at a loss of words to express something he has been forced to do. Danny knows how Steve hates such mind-befuddling stuff. He loathes head shrinks and what comes with it. But he is willing to go with the load of homework. It must be serious then.

The water has stopped running.

Danny blinks and inhales deeply. He wants to look away but his eyes catch the words that are written mushed together on the page with too high pressure on the pen. ‘Beachbeachsunsandfoodlotsoffoodbeachsunsandfoodlotsofoodwhatthefuckdoiknowidontwantthis...’ and there in between was one word, crossed out a few times almost unreadable but Danny recognizes his name in the middle of this worm of linked up words. The understanding causes a sharp pain piercing through his chest and he jerks back when he hears Steve thundering down the stairs.

“Ready! Are you coming?” Steve shouts in his direction but Danny is already at the door, looking strictly ahead and pulling it open.

“Took you long enough,” Danny complains unnessecarily and keeps the car keys out of Steve’s reach. “I’m driving.” His heart still hiccups in his chest. Steve wears a fragrance like amber and spice and the ache in his chest ups.

“Don’t be a dick. You waited exactly five minutes.” Steve grumbles and makes a scene about his long legs that don’t fit in the too small foot space of the passenger seat.

“Don’t even try to be difficult. And don’t whine about getting car sick. Today, I’m driving. I’ll take you out to lunch after court. What say you?”

“Just you and me?” Steve sounds tense.

“Yeah, just us.” Danny hopes he says it casually enough and, of course, he catches the strain in Steve’s muscles. He doesn’t know what to do with this.

“You’re paying?” Steve twists in his seat.

“Was my plan, yeah. Why? Got a problem with being invited?” Danny just has decided that he has a new goal every day: to pull a smile from Steve. A real one. The rare one. He shifts gear. “You never have your wallet on you. Got used to it. So? Deal?”

“Yeah, deal but I’m buying. You’re driving. Partners share.” Steve doesn’t meet Danny’s eyes and kicks with his feet into the end of the foot space.

“Okay, fair enough and stop with the kicking already. You’re like a child.” Danny filters into the morning traffic. His heart doesn’t want to calm down. Steve just offered to pay for lunch. He gets lost in thoughts. That’s a fucking new one.

“You okay?” Steve asks after a while into the silence.

“Yeah, good. All good. Just getting ready for court. Mentally ready.” Danny tries to pull his inner eyes from the picture of Steve’s handwriting. The non-verbal message left an imprint on his heart.

Steve side-eyes him more than once. Danny’s stomach doesn’t unknot.

“What are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that, huh? I won’t jump from any fucking roof because you’re paying for lunch later. I don’t owe you a favor because of it.” Danny rants at Steve feeling already better.

“What? You think I’m that guy? Seriously, Danny? That’s mean, even for you.No, especially from you.” Steve moves his legs and crosses his arms over his chest but Danny sees the smile that tugs at his lips.

Danny shuts up but his fingers tingle with the urge to reach over and touch Steve. They’re going to have lunch today. He’d say it’s a start.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

Just declared my Camp NaNoWriMo April 2023 goal! I met my last one in November and I'm hoping I can do it again :) I think the universe needs 50,000+ more words of trans Buffyverse fics so. I will do my best to make them happen!!

[albatris]

well fuck I almost had a rental car update for you tonight, a fun continuation of that excerpt from nat's opening chapter that I posted last time, but then tumblr glitched out before I could save all my typing and I can't be bothered doing it again tonight because I'm exhausted and that sucks because I want attention <3 lol <3

[casadegatos]

I feel like I had a breakthrough today regarding a piece of writing. These things happen at the strangest times.

[ranger-kellyn]

my outline is just over 12k and really only goes to just after the Kleavor mission, but i think that's as good as it's going to get for this year. my best work always comes from the things i didn't plan, and i left plenty of room for just that. i'm way too tired to stay up until midnight, so i'll start writing tomorrow. it's a busy month for me, so we'll see how this goes.

hopefully this is a good nano!! (ง'̀v‘́)ง

[strangefable]

I lost a week to being ill, and then to top it all off, a migraine took me down on my favorite holiday, so I missed Halloween and Día de los Muertos. :( :( :( :( :(

But I finished a big project and am feeling better, so the point is:

I’m back, baby

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

*nervous laughter* i should uh. swap out my Desk Paraphernalia, huh

[onmywaytobe]

Uh oh am I going to switch WIPs from one that is fully outlined that I’ve been prepping for months to one that is mostly vibes but is currently on my mind a week before NaNoWriMo