#length: 2k

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hypothetically if the merguru fic went over 20k would. literally anyone read it 😭😭 pls be honest

[mollyrolls]

im actually pissing myself holy shit

i just finished my 8 page rhetorical analysis right? tell me why this shit is the same length as ONE FIC CHAPTER. HELLO????

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

"i have to go to sleep" i say

"i really have to go to sleep" i say again, four hours later

[leupagus]

Say what you will about Martin's writing style (and I've said plenty) but I do think he's got the White Walkers' mythos worked out for a future book and IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO NICE IF THE SHOWRUNNERS HAD DONE 1/100TH OF THAT WORK SETTING THEM UP

Gus: I am mad all over again that there was absolutely zero explanation given as to why/how the Night King operates or how his powers work or why he chose now to attack or ANYTHING ELSE

Gus: on the plus side it means I get to make up a whole subplot that, not to brag, I'm comfortable saying is at least as good as anything D&D could've made up IF THEY HAD EVER EVEN BOTHERED

Gus: but like - okay so craster's infant sons get sacrificed to the Night King, who them magics them into White Walkers as babies

Mardia: Yep yep

Gus: so does that mean there's a white walker nursery

Mardia: Omg

Gus: do they have to change diapers

Mardia: LOOOOOOOL

Gus: is there a white walker daycare center

Gus: how does the night king TEACH his lil adopted monster babies

Gus: is there like storytime around the - well not fire

Gus: does the Night King remember what it was like to sit around a fire?

Gus: does he miss being a human and all his rage at the spell the Children of the Forest put on him to kill the First Men has curdled his brain?

Gus: what was he DOING for like 8 millennia, just hanging out?

Gus: did he get really good at ice fishing?

Gus: DO THEY EAT?

Gus: where the fuck do they get their snazzy outfits from

Gus: are there white walker tailors

Gus: what's the currency situation

Mardia: Lololololololol

Gus: I'M JUST SAYING

[harrydracompreg]

- Title: Wrapped Around Our Hearts Author: Anonymous Prompt: Self Prompted Word Count: 3.3 k Rating: Teen and Up [PG-13] Contains: Slice of Life Spoilers: No Spoilers Marked. Who is pregnant: Draco Notes:

Many thanks to all who helped make this so much better. B, E, T and T - you all are the best!!

Summary:

Harry has middle of the night baby duty with a very wide awake baby.

Wrapped Around Our Hearts Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

[aprito]

hi! do you have any recommendations for sasosaku fic with more than 10k words?

a couple (a lot) of the top of my head (burned into my retina) in no particular order finished and unfinished (they are all important to me)

!!! IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE BE A COOL KID AND LEAVE A REVIEW !!!

hope springs eternal by simplelations (wholesum retelling of p1 naruto but with same age au sos i have made fic art that's how you know the love is real)

incantations by thirrin (extremely underrated howl's moving castle inspired magic au)

the neighbourly thing to do by koneko_taichou (wholesome middle aged sos are neighbours au. especially love the reason ss divorced in this fic and cant wait to see where this goes)

against all odds by koobabear (unfinished but platonic canonverse sos that's very fun)

these days by stormdragon6 (the one and only extremely long and extremely fullfilling mutual pining sos childhood friends modern au. scenes from this fic are burned into my brain)

a second chance by invisibleninja12 (200k literal retelling of p2 naruto with same age au sos where sasori got yeeted into the future and sakura is committed to help him before he makes the final turn for the worse. incredibly wholesome)

deep into the woods by muffin_ride (twisted beauty and the beast meets horror meets sos in their 40s far too old for this bullshit. thats the type of content we love around here)

lost year by omgitspocky (the fic that literally started my obsession with same age au basically sakura goes back in time and not only distracts sasori from defecting but also gets to hang out with a young tsunade)

bait and hitch by aelynthi (after the fantastic previous fic homesick comes one of the funniest takes on the fake dating trope with outrageously good characterization. i am emotionally invested in this one)

acaso mi madre engaña a mi padre? by takewaelel (i recommend this cheating fic at least once every full moon cycle because it has some of my favorite characterisation ever. every reread i discover some other amazing take)

lady of the blackthorns by vesperchan (amazing fantasy sos au. and thats why vesper is the GOAT)

pyrrhic victory by watevermelon (same age au sos with sasori's parents alive is one of the three ships and we're rooting for them)

grading on a curve by sayyikes (100% pure comedy and we're here for this painfully realistic and hilarious modern au)

sword of damocles by angelofdeath10 (medieval sakura is sasori's knight au. sasori is extremely pathetic but that makes it fun. i recommend everything they write in general <3)

spring fever by tsuki hoshino (sakura quits her job with sunan royalty and is ready to settle down and have kids in the middle of sasori's 10 year meticulously planned how do i get her to date me plan. watch as he desperately tries to bring his plans to fruition in the most sasori way possible)

invocation of the muse by nenalata (toxic college au sos that ruined me as a person, it's so fucking good even if i took immense psychic damage after deluding myself sos somehow will make it work. you need to read this immediately. this is exactly how i envision a bad ending outcome)

porcelain by shoujojunkie (not 10k but i will rep this doll maker falls in love with his tiny vain selfish creation fic until the day i die)

[dyshonor]

the importance of burning birthday bread

Randal knows the season his birth is supposed to be from.

In most- but not all- places he's been in, the leaves change color. They had in Elibe, which was really the only time it had mattered. He hadn't appreciated it then, the continuity of it all.

That was fine. Placing importance onto dates seemed a silly thing regardless. At this point, who cared?

—

"Keep a diary," he tells Emma. "Write something for every day."

Her bow seems to twitch with a life of its own. "…my progress isn't that interesting," Emma says, like she's ashamed. "A-and you know I'm not one to slack off, even if you or Shade aren't around."

"That's not—" and Randal catches himself, because that would be rude. He tries again. "Emma. When we don't move through time the same way as everyone else, it's easy to lose track of the days."

She stares at him, unimpressed. "The sky is blue. Duh Randal, I'm living out this whole world-hopping thing just the same as you." She turns back to the task she had been tending to, which was massaging out grass stain from her tights into a bucket. Hesitates. "I- well, I appreciate the sentiment. But it doesn't bother me too much."

There's no intentional rudeness in her voice. She's simply baffled, a bit talked-down to. This is an understandable reaction, particularly when Randal has stumbled his way through more accidentally demeaning comments than these.

Here, however, there is the reluctant admittance of concern. Emma is thirteen, was probably thirteen when she got roped up into this whole mess, and will not (will not. he emphasizes this to ensure it) be thirteen forever. She does not deserve to second-guess herself at every memory, when she experiences three autumns in a row because the Chaos has elected to toss her whichever way it goes.

Randal sinks himself into the dirt besides her and sighs overdramatically. "Well, y'see, my memory's awful fading me."

"M-memory?"

A grim nod. "When y'get t'my age, these sorts o' things creep up on ya without even realizin' it. I'll be needin' you to remind me."

Quiet. Randal chances a side-glance at Emma. Her scrubbing has faltered. He presses on.

"And besides, when we're separated, I'll wanna know-"

"If."

Randal fights off the sigh that rises in his throat. The guilt that trickles up his back at stumbling through such posturing- and intentionally, this time- does not pass him by. He keeps himself silent and lets Emma do the work.

Sure enough, she relents.

"W-well, if you're gonna be this much of a poop about it…"

"Mm."

"But you've gotta do it too, okay? So I can know what you're up to!"

"'course, kid." Randal does always tend to get what he wants, even if only for a bit.

—

When he turns soft-cheeked and bright-eyed, he wonders how old he is.

Right now, he can make vague summations: whatever has sent him back into this finer form, free of wrinkles and stubble, is likely not Boundless Chaos. Thus, any rules he had figured out beforehand of determining his age had been merrily thrown out the window.

Randal massages his jaw, traces his finger down the edge of his earlobe. Were the scars that were supposed to be there erased, or had they not been formed yet? Either way, their memory was there.

How old is Randal now, really? His body is: twenty, ish. It has freshly won itself a mansion a good score of years ago, it is the lord of fistfuls of pawns that turn their nose and swords for it.

He is: forty? Fifty? Old. He does not feel old, not even in a young-at-heart sense. Every memory that that older self had dredged together is held in a mental tome, read out to him as if by an entirely different person.

A strand of too-long hair trails in front of his face. He pinches it, twirls it between his fingers.

Here, in the academy, they actually keep dates. The twenty-third of the Wyvern Moon, the tenth month of the calendar year. Regardless of how much time has passed, this is the 'date' of his birth.

That older him had never been affected by things like that. He had passed by the date the first time he had stepped foot in this academy and not mentioned it to anyone, not had anyone mention it to him. There is no grand 'desire' built into him, and so he should follow suit. If he really is that 'same Randal'.

His fingers drop. What did that Randal like?

—

Here is what Randal did during the anniversary of the forty-fourth year of his birth, unknowingly:

Pull an all-nighter to see the sunrise

Rebraid his horse's hair

Make fresh bread

Turn in early for the night

Here is what Randal does during what might be the anniversary of the forty-fifth year of his birth, knowingly:

Dresses, then re-dresses when he catches the stain on his sleeve

Comes late to breakfast and eats cold food

Gets bitten by his horse

Gives up and lies on the grass

Why hasn't he left yet? Sensibly, tiredly, he knows this is what he must do. The second he woke up like this he knew he needed to plod his way on over to his mansion or what ruins remained of it. At the very least, get away from whatever sort of set-up that Randal had established for himself.

Yet here he was, pussy-footing his way out of taking any action. He did not need anyone else here to tell him that he was pretty definitively pathe-

He shuts his eyes. What sort of person wallowed in self-pity on their birthday? Faintly, he recalls making it a whole good-and-proper affair, before time had changed around him. Inviting neighboring lords and making it quite clear to everyone involved his staying power, that he had his shit together.

Hm. So it hadn't been much of a celebration as much as it had been an establishment of power. Not that any of that had mattered in the end. Great thanks, Boundless Chaos. Siccing that blue cunt onto him was pleasant icing on the cake.

One day will bleed into the next into the month into the year into the decade, and he will still be twisted nicely by whatever wants to have his way with him. Then, inevitably, he will be wiped clean back onto the slate of that older him, and nothing he will have done will have mattered. It won't even be written down.

He sits up forcefully at the thought.

—

The calendar let him know. That inconsequential day, which didn't even reside in the mental book of memories he kept, so useless it had been, forces itself into paper. A scrawled on recipe of the bread he had made that day.

'prety damn good. make again.'

He hadn't. He hadn't even bothered to spell the reminder correctly, so why'd he take enough of a step to write the recipe in clear lettering?

Randal bites the bullet and hands it off to one of the kitchen staff, who wear smiles that grow more strained when trying to make out the lettering. Ugh. This was embarrassing. If there weren't bigger things he was afraid of, he'd lie and say that it hadn't been him who wrote it there.

They rewrite the lettering on a napkin, admitting as they hand it off to him that they're making some educated guesses on a great deal of this.

That's fine.

—

He burns it. Of course he burns it.

Even after sucking it up and extending a begging hand towards the staff, begging for a touch of starter, even after nabbing flour he probably shouldn't have owned, even after stealing a salt shaker from the common room table when it was explicitly forbidden given the frequency that they disappeared, he just burnt it.

It sits in the open, still-lit oven, far more akin to a block of coal than anything edible. Hell, it seems to glow just like one, too.

What did he want from this? He doesn't entirely know. Probably something romantic like: here is this memory, it was good, I was here. Transient and forceful and an all-together good thing, where even if that dastard wanted to dismiss and forget it entirely, wafting scents would resurface the thought. Might even be something he missed.

Of course, Randal could not even conjure up this much.

He hangs his head and bunches his hair up in the back of it, practically ripping at his ribbon. Useless, useless, waste of—

"Randal?"

He startles up. There's that girl again- Emma. All dressed up in concern and worry. Shit.

"A-ah, Emma! You know, girls like you really shouldn't be—"

"Take it out!" The concerned expression on her face explodes into near-fear. "It's going to catch fire!"

"I- oh! Uhm-"

—

It sits in front of them, burnt and soggy all the same. An altogether disgusting lump.

"Can you read?" Emma asks plainly enough.

"Wha- yes, I can read! Of all the daft-"

"Mmm." She folds her hands. "Okay. I was gonna offer to read you the instructions in the future, since I thought you were just winging it out of necessity, but I guess not…"

Randal blusters. She hadn't even meant it as an insult, which only makes it sting all the more. "I'm not incompetant, you know."

Emma doesn't respond, instead just entertaining him with a roll of her eyes and a prop up of her chin. She chews noisily. "I guess that'll be somethin' else to tell him…"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Or write down. If he doesn't remember." She snorts a bit. "Let him know what shenanigans you got up to. He got up to." Her face twists, as if she bit something unpleasant. "Sorry, uhm... it's still weird."

Randal doesn't have anything to say to that beyond the usual protest of being the very same, so he doesn't. "You record these kinds of things?" he ventures instead.

Emma shrugs. "He doesn't tell me to do much long-term stuff, so I might as well… and I like having a diary! It's fun flipping through old entries." She pats her pocket, evidently where it's being kept. Ever on her person. "The world is so big! Keeping track of it is nice."

He stares, painfully aware of the owlishness of his blinks. "I see," he settles on instead.

There is a temptation, then, to ask: what will you write about me? The Randal that stands before you now, will you make special note of it? Will you recount other memories of him, to others? Probably, she didn't seem to discriminate. And if all he wanted was to be recorded, then-

"Well. Time to get to it."

Before he has the time to ask her what it is, Emma has ripped off a piece of the bread and slammed it back.

"I- excuse me?"

She holds out a piece to him. "Come on! Wasting food is no good." She speaks around the bite in her mouth. Randal is somewhat shocked she hasn't gagged on it. "It's your responsibility, y'know…"

She looks expectant, but not hostile. Randal takes it from her. It's not as if she could've poisoned it in the seconds she had her hands on it, probably, and even if she could, she probably wouldn't risk that dastard dyi-

"You've gotta eat it. It's your mess, y'know." She swallows thickly. "It's not the worst…"

Randal takes a bite. The freshly soggy, charred crust pairs nicely with the gooey, underbaked center.

—

It's not as if that dastard would care to remember what Randal did, and Randal finds it even less likely that he'd actually read the entries in here, but he writes it down anyway.

on how to bake a loaf of sourdough bread. properly. for days that you want to remember.

gather ingredients: yeast - salt - sugar - flour - water, lukewarm. find someone to get starter from.

begin.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

wrote nearly 1k words on one single whumptober fic today 🫶

[vampirejuno]

Just solved extremely aggravating and challenging (for my beginner ass) coding problem in the absolute stupidest way possible. So mad I can't even put it into words

[elisemochi]

I think i am finished with my Bokumono exchange fic

which yay

its only like 2.5k but that's a pretty typical wc for me

like that's like top 5 on my sort by word count list because most of my fics fall more in the 1k to 2k range (out of my 70ish fics only 8 actually go above 2k fdsjfakd

so like i'm happy with that

I still have to edit though which ew

[sankttealeaf]

maybe. new chapter of let sleeping dogs lie tonight?? new chapter tonight king??

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

strangling my past self How Did You Write Reasonably Sized Fics So Easily

[altruistic-meme]

*crawling out of february covered in dirt and soaked in blood*

i finally finished my event fics <3

[harrydracompreg]

- Title: The First Heir (Not Specified) Author: Anonymous Prompt: Harry and Draco know they need to stay away from each other, especially because Draco's married to Astoria, but they just can't keep their distance. Then Harry discovers he's pregnant with Draco's baby. Word Count: 3.6 k Rating: Mature [R] Contains: Infidelity, Weddings, Arranged Marriage, Consensual Infidelity, Unplanned Pregnancy, Marriage Contracts, Fluff and Smut Spoilers: No Spoilers Marked. Who is pregnant: Harry Notes:

Thank you to my beta reader. You're the best! Thank you to the mpreg mods for hosting this wonderful fest! And thank you to the prompter for leaving this prompt! I had big plans for it. They didn't work out. But I'm happy with this shorter one as well! Enjoy!

Summary:

Their romance should have found an end the second Draco married Astoria...

The First Heir (Not Specified) Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.