#nano day 6

[hudders-and-hiddles]

half way let's goooooo

[oreoambitions]

I'm 6,000 words behind and I've completely lost the plot only ice cream can save us now

[seekerstone]

woo 🎉

[thelittlestspider]

why is writing smut so hard (pun not intended lol)

[ambersky0319]

10 min breaks are not long enough lol

[ftmerriweather]

My writing goal--very subject to change--is three chapters edited a week until Wysteria is done. It's not too high a request, I hope. Two Beela and one Wysteria would get Wys done in a month, like it should be, and some breathing room for Beela

[andromedaexists]

Day 6 Update

Staying true to form, I wrote exactly nothing on CMI today. I did write 1,243 words, but none of them were on CMI.

I answered emails and advertised my Short Stories and get everything prepared for pushing forward in the publishing process. Good news: Cover Art will be underway soon (we're settling payment and deadlines right now) and I have an official publishing date! (if all things go well)

So yeah, no direct progress on CMI, but that's okay! I did get a really good description of Icarus written to that counts

Camp NaNo 2023

So... I have made the decision to join camp nano this year.

I wasn't originally planning on doing this on account of being burnt out and having to work and stuff but! Things have changed!

I'm still burnt out. I still have to work. However, I am more motivated than ever to get CMI done. Well, technically it's already done, I'm just completely re-writing it to make it align more with what I envision it to be now

So! Camp NaNo! My goal this month is 36k words. ~30k is finishing Call Me Icarus, the other 6k is writing two (2) horror short stories to submit to an anthology centering ASD and horror

So yeah! I guess y'all should be on the lookout for some more writing content from me here! In the meantime, enjoy this moodboard I made:

[rollaroundincompliments]

This is by far the closest to the "average" line I've ever clung, but a win is a win :)

[thatrandomn3rd]

Somewhat accurate Cybertronian ages and time explained.

I've done a bit of research and found that Cybertronians like up to 65 million years so, that would be the human equivalent to 100 years old here's some others

50 human years = about 32 million Cybertronian years.

25 human years= 16 million Cybertronian years.

About 12 human years= 8 million Cybertronian years.

6 human years= 4 million Cybertronian years

3 human years= 2 million Cybertronian years

About 1 human year= 1,015,625 exactly.

Cybertronians also have these things called 'Vorns' which are equivalent to 83 human years. Here's the rest of the units of time that Cybertronians use:

Decivorn= 8.3 years

Stellar cycle= 7.5 months

Solar cycle= 1 day

Quartex= 1 month (orbital cycal also means one month)

Nanoklik/Nano-cycle= 1 second

Meta-cycle= 13 months

Kilocycle = 1 year

Megacycle= 1000 years (but in the 2005 IDW comics is mean 93 hours)

Lightyear= very long time

Kilk= 1.2 minutes

Groom= 1 hour

Deca-phase= 8 hours

Deca-cycle(IDW)= 3 weeks

Cycle(2019 IDW)= 1 day (shorter than an earth day)

Cycle(2005 IDW)= 1 hour 15 minutes

Cyber-week= a week

Breem= 8.3 minutes

Astrosecond= .498 seconds

Do with this information what you will.

[writingdotcoffee]

The "Alt" NaNoWriMo Challenge

I'm a big fan of NaNoWriMo and the energy the event breathes into the writing community. Hundreds of thousands of people start working on their novels at the same time. Lots of people share their progress and cheer each other on. Several now-famous authors have started their best-selling novels during NaNo over the years.

That said, it's not for everyone. Writing 50,000 words per month is a serious commitment. Doing it alongside school or work is no joke. In fact, most people who sign up don't finish. According to these stats, only 1-2 out of every 10 participants complete the challenge.

I've never joined NaNoWriMo myself. I'm a slow writer, and I know that I would burn out. Instead, I set a different writing-related challenge for myself every November.

In 2018, I started reading one short story every day. It turned into a regular habit, and I ended up reading hundreds of short stories over the following few months.

Last year, I wanted to build a 30-day writing streak. In the end, I wrote for 232 days in a row. 2023 became the most productive year of my writing life by far with over 250,000 words written.

This year, I will be doing something similar, and I want to invite you to come along for the ride.

The Idea of "AltNaNo"

The idea of finishing a novel in a month seems outrageous to most people. That's what makes it so compelling. It's like standing at the foot of a snowcapped mountain with a rope and a couple of ice picks. The challenge itself is inspiring.

The AltNaNo challenge is the exact opposite. The goal is as small as possible on purpose. The focus isn't to achieve this massive feat but to squash all excuses and merely start writing.

You may not be able to write 50,000 words in a month. But almost everyone can find 15 minutes to write every day.

The Challenge

The goal is simple: Write for at least 15 minutes every day in November.

Writing 100 words and calling it a day after 15 minutes is a success.

Spending longer and writing 500 words is a success.

Wrestling with a difficult scene for 15 minutes and writing only a single sentence is a success.

Spending 15 minutes trying to write after a long day and not producing a single word is a success, too.

Be a tortoise. We all know how the story goes.

How to Join

I've set up daily challenges for the first week in Writing Analytics, if you wanted to join us there:

Day 1/30 ✅

Day 2/30 ✅

Day 3/30 ✅

Day 4/30 ✅

Day 5/30 ✅

Day 6/30 ✅

Day 7/30 ✅

I'll be posting daily updates on the blog as well.

PS: If you'd like to learn more about developing a writing habit, check out this free course I launched a few weeks ago.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

kicking and screaming, 2:30 to 7:40 is, in fact, Worse

disgusted and appalled to report that i am so so so sleepy after going to bed at 2:30 this morning when i KNEW my alarm would be coming for me at 8:40

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 6

[chapter 4] [AO3]

(please see tags for trigger warnings)

============<×^-^×>============

It was a little known fact that Bruce Wayne hadn't only fostered his boys. As one of the few above-the-board trained and highly experienced foster parents in Gotham, Bruce had actually fostered dozens of children from all kinds of situations over the years. The only kids the press ever actually found out about were the ones he legally gained custody of, in one way or another, due to stringent privacy policies set in place back when he'd applied to be a foster parent for Dick.

Sometimes Bruce is able to keep in contact with his former foster kids, and he's always happy when that's the case, but other times he loses complete contact with them and can't legally track them down again. It's those children, outside of the ones he's legally able to claim as his own, that he worries about relentlessly. But even among those kids, there's two he worries about the most.

Jasmine Madeline Fenton and her younger brother Daniel Jackson Fenton had come into Bruce's life and home when Dick was thirteen. They weren't the first kids he'd fostered since adopting Dick, but they were the most impactful. Jazz was six, her hair was freshly cut and washed, her clothes neat and a bit on the baggy side, and her backpack still had a tag on it. Danny was three, he, too, had freshly cut and washed hair, his clothes were brand new, and his diaper bag was fully stocked.

Jazz was six and her clothes hung off her frame. She had bags under eyes and didn't know how to brush or wash her own hair. The backpack she had when she walked in his front doors was the very first new thing she'd ever seen that her parents hadn't immediately cannibalized for their experiments.

Danny was three and hadn't been given a real bath in almost a year. His clothes were all either too small or his sister's hand-me-downs. His diaper hadn't been changed in over six hours.

Bruce had been so sure he was going to be awarded permanent custody of the two. There had obviously been criminal neglect going on in that household at least, it should have been child's play to gain permanent custody of them. His lawyer and the children's case manager had assured them their case was practically airtight.

The kids had only been in his custody for two weeks before the state awarded full parental rights to the Drs Fenton. Jazz had only barely started getting used to eating three times a day again. Danny had just started smiling whenever Dick played peekaboo with him. And the courts sent. Them. Back. A month later and the Fenton's moved without a word, leaving behind not a single trace. It was almost as though they'd vanished.

Dick had been devastated. Alfred was crushed. And Bruce? Bruce experienced the five stages of grief for the second time in his life twice over. For years, he had private investigators searching everywhere he could think of for the siblings, desperately hoping to find even the slimmest glimmer of hope that they were alright, that they were still alive.

Jason coming into the household lessened some of that pain and desperation, especially after Bruce obtained full custody of him, but the tension between Dick and Jason drove the lingering tension between Dick and Bruce to critical levels. Argument after argument, fight after fight, all about the same topic: Why did Jason get adopted when Jazz and Danny were still out here?

Eventually the tension exploded in one of the worst ways possible, and the family was reduced back down to three. The first six months after Jason's funeral, Bruce refused to take on any new children. He even asked the private investigators to only contact him if they definitively found proof of the kids. The pain, the grief, the guilt was just too much for him. He'd failed Jazz and Danny, and he'd failed Jason, too. He couldn't handle failing yet another child.

Then Tim showed up, too tiny and too determined to get his way. The shock of seeing the obvious evidence of yet more criminal neglect from his own neighbors drew Bruce out of his downward spiral just enough to realize he needed help. Tim was right, he had been killing himself with his work, and doing so was the exact opposite of what Jazz, Danny, or Jason would have wanted from him. He notified CPS of a possible situation he was keeping an eye on, as well as the fact that he was pulling himself back together so he'd be able to reapply to be a foster parent, and then sought the help of a therapist sworn to absolute secrecy with the help of multiple NDAs.

A year later, he was reinstated as a foster parent, awarded first temporary, then later full, custody of Tim. He fostered a pair of blonde little girls for a few nights before an aunt was found in Vineland, New Jersey, who got custody instead. About a month after them, he fostered a ten year old boy for a week before his dad regained custody. He even fostered Tim's friend, Stephanie Brown, for two months while her mom went through rehab.

And then Red Hood came to town.

Between trying to track down and figure out who Red Hood was, Bruce also took on twin eight year old boys for about five days, a fifteen year old girl for two and a half weeks, a pair of cousins for ten days, and three siblings for a night. When Red Hood was finally revealed to be a revived Jason, angry at the thought that Bruce had replaced him and missing a few key memories, it had been two years since the last time he'd heard from the private investigators he'd hired eleven years prior. After weeks of careful negotiation and peace talks between Bruce and Jason, the family of four was well on their way to being the family of five they legally were, when Bruce decided it was time to get back in contact with the team he'd left in charge of the investigation looking for the Fentons. They only had a potential sighting of the Fentons at a class reunion in Wisconsin a few months prior, but any sighting was better than what they'd had for most of the eleven years prior, so Bruce asked them to double down and see what came from it.

Two weeks later, there was a knock on the manor door. It was the middle of a torrential downpour, one of the worst thunderstorms Gotham had seen in years, yet there was undeniably someone knocking at the door. Bruce, who'd been passing through the entry hall on a late evening stroll through the manor, was the one to answer the door.

She was in her late teens, her hair was long, wet, and stuck to the side of her face, her clothes in poor repair with splotches of dark red and neon green on them, and her backpack was worn and frayed. He was in his early teens, he, too, had long, wet hair that stuck to his face, his clothes were rags and barely hanging onto him with more of those dark red and neon green splotches, and his duffle bag was stuffed to the gills.

"Mr Wayne?" Jasmine Madeline Fenton asked, voice quivering as the two of them huddled on his doorstep, Daniel Jackson Fenton's eyes drooping to half mast from exhaustion. "We need your help. Our parents are trying to murder us."

============<×^-^×>============

I'm not gonna lie, it took me forever to figure out what I wanted to write today, but once I decided on this, it just wrote itself (⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠メ⁠) I actually got the idea for this fic from a prompt @evandarya had posted in the Batpham server a while back, which I absolutely loved and just had to write, so this ficlet is dedicated to them (not that they're aware of it yet lol)

Once again, I have no idea if I'll ever continue this ficlet, for my muse is fickle and likes to play favorites ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I might get lucky and get sudden inspiration for a sequel for this, or I might not, who knows? Honestly, if anyone wants to add onto this, go right ahead lol that'd be amazing.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptnation, which is turning out to be like NaNo but with way less stress]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) 10: choice (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Their lives have never been predictable. Which, in some ways, has made them very predictable, John thinks as he stops Sherlock in the hallway with a hand on the sleeve of his dressing gown. 'Hey,' he says, voice quiet. 'Come here.'

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't hesitate to lean down and let John kiss him, thoroughly. Maybe even twice.

'Great, thanks,' John says roughly afterwards, backing away. 'I've got work now.'

He really should have known, from the start, that they'd have to steal moments for this out of the chaos they live in.

'Not your babysitter,' Mrs Hudson sings the next day as she holds Rosie's hands down the stairs. 'But I've got applesauce jelly with her name on it. And I'll change her nappy while I'm at it, won't I?' The last is said to Rosie, obviously, who is very focused on the stairs.

John, in turn, is focused somewhere else as well. 'We've got ten minutes,' he says, already out of his chair. 

'Eight and a half,' Sherlock corrects, pulling John to him and capturing his mouth easily. John is tempted, so tempted, to let it go too far, but his prefrontal cortex is fully developed now, unlike the last time he felt this sort of heady gut-lust.

Maybe it's because Sherlock is a man, but he hasn't experienced a sense of newness this acute since being in school. And he'd thought, because he knows Sherlock in every other way it is possible to know a person, that this added dimension would feel--normal. Comfortingly similar. Would slot into their lives unnoticeably.

Decidedly not, John accepts some days and a solved case later, just before his backside hits the kitchen table. They've got a few more stolen moments while Rosie's napping on the sofa, and he's determined to make the most of them.

At Sherlock's urging, he lifts himself up onto the table's cluttered surface, then grabs at Sherlock's face to bring him back into the kiss. He spreads his knees without a thought and feels enveloped by heat as Sherlock moves further in between them. He fits around Sherlock perfectly, and it feels like--

It feels like lacing his fingers together with the other thumb in front, or crossing his arms with the other hand dominant. It feels like his own body still, yes, his skin heating up and his lungs pressing for air, but from a literal whole new perspective.

And he wants more of it. 'Do you think,' he murmurs in between kisses, 'that you'd want to be the one--' He pauses as Sherlock bites at his jaw. 'The one in charge?'

Sherlock pulls back enough to give him a look. 'Are you struggling through your English modesty to ask me if I'd like to top?'

John's neck flushes further, and he's pretty sure now it's both from arousal and embarrassment. Which is also new; he's said plenty more graphic things to women without hesitation, but apparently all bets are off when it comes to Sherlock. 'Yeah,' he says firmly. 'Yes.'

'I'd assumed you'd want to be the one doing that.'

'Wait, though-- you've done this before…?'

Sherlock's mouth quirks up. 'Subtle as always, John. Yes, I have. But not with you, do you understand? I want whatever you want. Quite literally.'

John swallows. 'And vice versa. I'm not new-- I mean, to the whole idea--'

'I'm very aware,' Sherlock retorts. And of course he is, aware of both John's various partners over the years and also of his, well, solo habits.

'Alright,' John says dryly. 'Rein it in, detective.' He sobers, hoping he doesn't have to go into detail. 'But this feels… different. And I want you to--to show me everything, to do everything you want.'

Sherlock, as he should have expected, takes this as a sort of delightful challenge. 'Well, then, we are at a bit of a stalemate, aren't we?'

John smirks, relief seeping through. 'Flip a coin?' he says, tightening his thighs, ready to dip back into Sherlock's mouth.

But Rosie, naturally, chooses that moment to wake up, and to do so loudly. She's almost got Sherlock's name down, and she definitely can yell for John like she's getting paid for it.

John groans and leans his forehead against Sherlock's momentarily, or at least intending for it to be momentary but shortly hearing the sound of his daughter shuffling into the kitchen, dragging her favourite garishly plaid blanket behind her. 

'Perhaps we'll cut a deck of cards?' Sherlock suggests to him as they untangle.

Then the detective reaches down for Rosie, who is looking back and forth between them. 'Cards?' she repeats once she's in his arms, her tiny person pronunciation still simultaneously hilarious and brilliant. 

'Yes,' Sherlock answers matter-of-factly. 'Your father and I are trying to decide…' He looks at John, a glint in his eye John shouldn't like at all. '...who gets to have the first ginger nut.'

John chokes on his tea, the sting going into his nostrils. 'Unfair,' he says.

His daughter seems interested, which is not surprising considering she shares Sherlock's predilection for the biscuit. 'Ginger nut!' she says. 'Me too?'

'Of course,' Sherlock says amenably. 'It's time for tea, anyhow.'

John tamps down a smile, then goes in for the assist, relieving Sherlock of Rosie so the detective can rummage around in the fridge. In their current arrangement, Sherlock is in charge of keeping edible and non-edible items separated. It's a dealbreaker, John had said when they'd moved back in. And Sherlock had complied without too much fuss, much to John's continued surprise.

Though, to be honest, he half expects Rosie would be delighted to find fingers in the crisper.

When everything's on the table and Rosie's in her booster seat, John digs in his pocket and pulls out a 50p coin, flipping it over to Sherlock without warning.

Sherlock catches it, regards it, then raises an eyebrow. 'I can rig this, you know.' 

'Yes, but you won't, because my daughter is impressionable and worships you. And while you have many fine attributes, casual cheating is not one I'm interested in her inheriting.' 

'Or, erm,' Sherlock starts, fingers casually playing with the coin. 'Any.' It's not a question, but suddenly he's looking intently at John, forehead wrinkled.

John's heart squeezes as he clocks what Sherlock's actually trying to get at. 'Sherlock. Bloody hell. Of course.' He inhales harshly. 'I know I'm not-- not exactly trustworthy any more, in that arena.'

But Sherlock cuts off his self-flagellation. 'Poppycock.'

'Beg pardon?'

Sherlock shakes his head. 'You were seduced by a person who could talk someone into murder with the snap of her fingers. She is literally the most brilliant manipulator in the world, and though I hold you in high regard you in no way had the capacity to overcome that.'

The anxiety slowly eases, though he suspects he'll never fully be free of it. 'You're admitting you're not the cleverest?'

He thinks Sherlock will counter in good humour, but instead he's a bit thoughtful. 'I think that, at that level, one is somewhere in the stratosphere, separated from everyone below. I find I rather like it down here.' He smiles crookedly, genuinely, at John. 'In certain company, at least.' 

John's heart twinges. 'Well. That's.' He clears his throat. 'That's good. We rather like you down here. Most of the time.'

He breaks eye contact, instead looking at Rosie, who is happily getting banana all over her hands. He hopes the words will be sufficient. 'But I mean it.'

Sherlock's voice is quiet, fond and no-nonsense at the same time. 'I know. I know you, John Watson.'

John feels a smile slowly cross his face. 'Yeah, that's right, you'd catch me out instantly anyway. How I ended up with the one person I literally will not ever be able to keep a secret from, I've no idea. Birthdays and anniversaries are going to be very, very boring.'

Sherlock's smirk gives no doubt as to where his mind has immediately gone. 'Oh, I doubt that.'

John can tell his skin is starting to flush again. 'Speaking of… Coin flip is right out, so…?'

'Paper scissors stone?' 

'No!'

'Why not?'

'Because you'd definitely cheat at that.'

'True. Magic 8 Ball?'

'You know what a Magic 8 Ball is?'

'Had a case where it was the murder weapon.'

'What? Really?'

'Yes.' Sherlock leans in, clearly ready to share the tale while assisting Rosie with her cheerios. 

And John wants to remember this, this exact feeling of this exact moment, forever.

[❤️]

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

TikToker raises $186,000 for woman, 81, to pay off her mortgage and finally retire. He saw her on break at Walmart and recorded her clearly having a bad day.

Devan Bonagura, 19, works for a third-party company that sells products to Walmart, and it’s at the retailer where he met 81-year-old Nola Carpenter.

One comment read: “GOFUNDME ASAP” — before going on to receive 130,000 likes. Devan would honor the request of his followers, and later set up a GoFundMe to help Nola retire. Needless to say, the response was overwhelming.

2. Grandma and man she accidentally texted for Thanksgiving to reunite for 7th year

An accidental text message has led to a Thanksgiving tradition that is now continuing into its seventh year.

On Tuesday, Jamal Hinton confirmed in an Instagram post that he will spend this Thanksgiving with Wanda Dench, who in 2016 thought she was texting her grandson to invite him to Thanksgiving when she actually texted Hinton.

3. Flossie, 26, officially crowned world's oldest living cat by Guinness World Records

British-born Flossie has set a new record as the world’s oldest living cat. Guinness World Records have officially awarded the title to the feline, who was born in 1995. The cat has had a number of owners during her lifetime, but currently resides in southeast London.

But she’s still got several years to go if she wants to beat the oldest cat ever recorded. That title goes to Creme Puff, who lived to an incredible 38 years and three days in Austin, Texas.

4. Nano-robot antibodies that fight cancer enter first human drug trial

Scientists in Israel have created the first nano-robot antibodies designed to fight cancer. The first human trial for the new nano-robots will start soon, and it will determine just how effective the antibodies are. What is special about these particular antibodies, too, is that they are programmed to decide whether cells surrounding tumors are “bad” or “good.”

The trial is currently underway in Australia and if it goes according to plan, the nano-robot antibodies will be able to fight cells around tumors that can help the tumor while also boosting the capability of the cells inhibiting the growth of the cancerous cells.

5. Nepal Fights Deforestation, and Wins

This transformation is visible across Nepal, thanks to a radical policy adopted by the government more than 40 years ago. Large swaths of national forest land were handed to local communities, and millions of volunteers were recruited to protect and renew their local forests, an effort that has earned praise from environmentalists around the world.

6. Amazing quote from Richard M. Fierro, the Club Q hero that probably saved dozens of lives

“These kids want to live that way, want to have a good time, have at it,” he said as he described the night. “I’m happy about it because that is what I fought for, so they can do whatever they hell they want.”

7. First Drug to Delay Type 1 Diabetes Approved by FDA

Last week, the Food and Drug Administration approved the first drug to delay the onset of Type 1 diabetes.

That’s it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

[simonnebethel]

Writeblr Introduction

Just learned what a writeblr intro is so I'm gonna make one before I go to bed lol

I've already done something like this a few days ago but that was when I had no clue what I was doing lmao, so might as well make a more in depth one

About me:

20, she/her, bi

American

I write mostly fantasy and urban fantasy, and honestly i dont think i've ever written a story that was non-fantasy lol

Started writing when I was 10, but it was mostly Warrior Cats fanfiction on Wattpad lol. I went through a writing slump for most of highschool but last year I decided to get back into it since I'm not doing anything else lol

I like to read fantasy and classic lit, also anything with vampires. I also have a soft spot for slowburn romances where the main characters dont kiss until, like, the 4th book heehee

In love with anything gothic, vampire, and wlw 👩‍❤‍💋‍👩

I think one of my more niche interests is any early 2000s fantasy/sci-fi movie with a nu-metal/rock/alternative soundtrack like Queen of the Damned and The Crow. They are just...*chefs kiss*

My current stories:

A Chant for Blood (Formerly known as Account of Calamity)

Account of Calamity is a gothic victorian fantasy about a Grand Marshal, Karliah Helisende, and a blood-drinking fiend, Yorick Gwynplaine, who work together to investigate the mysterious portals that spawn dangerous creatures into the city of Isarnan, all the while Karliah is being haunted by the mysterious ancient temple that watches over her every move.

I'm currently working on the second draft, and I may start looking for beta readers once I'm finished, although I know I'm not far from finished with this novel. I also plan to make it a 4 or 5 book series, and slowly add a slowburn romance.

12/30/24 - Second draft has been finished!!

Looking for beta readers! Look here!

Our Demonic Hearts - The Craven Pact Series #1

Our Demonic Hearts is a urban fantasy about a cambion woman, Ana Kravens, haunted by her past. Taking place in a small Mississippi town, a man she went through a traumatic incident with, Beau Motloe, shows up on her doorstep one day with a deal; help him find his missing mother, and he'll give back the memories she lost during the traumatic incident. Her father, a demonic creature of unknown origin, wants nothing more than the Motloes dead, claiming that they were the very reason his daughter was almost killed 6 years ago. Ana goes against her father's wishes and accepts Beau's deal, suspecting that her father isn't telling the whole truth about that fatal night.

It is completed and available on Wattpad and Royal Road!! It was just a small project I had done for Nanowrimo, and has been edited at least once before being published. However, I plan to make it a trilogy and maybe have some spin-offs. This story is fairly new, but most of the characters are at least 5 years old and I love them very much <3

What I plan for 2024:

Finish the second draft of A Chant for Blood and look for beta readers(In the beta reader phase!) ✅

Start the second novel of The Craven Pact Series(Outline complete)

Write a short story/novella or two taking place within the A Chant for Blood universe. My brain is currently exploding with ideas rn ✅

Write a short story about Ana Kraven's mom and how she met Marchosias, Ana's father.

Plan something for Nano?? Idk where I'll be in November lol (Finish a project I started in february, which is To Hear a Lovebird!)

I'm interested in following other writers and reading everybody's stories! I would also be interested in a beta read/beta swap ^^

Other sites I'm on:

Wattpad: LillithOfBees

Royal Road: SimonneBethel

18+ Writing discord!!!

[insuspensa]

A horrible, uncomfortable little laugh bubbles in his chest as this chunk of his magnetic tape heart pulls away from the rest, as his wet eyes search Jon's eyes and eyes and eyes, their two figures framed by those still, silent wings. Of course it was always going to lead to this. Perhaps there won't be anything left of him, by the time Jon is finished. Perhaps Jon already started devouring him the moment they first crossed paths all those years ago. He holds out the piece in his bloody palm, nothing more than a dark tangle still attached by a few strands, and takes a slow, shaky breath. "Take it."

JonElias Week 2023, Day 6: Dreams and Nightmares. This is an excerpt from a scene @paradisepuppet and I wrote during NaNo last year.