#over 30k words

[boogiewrites]

Okay, Repentance is finished! I've re-read and made some edits as I've built it so one final round of editing and it'll be posted!

[spacedace]

Been doing a plot overhaul of Ghosts of Gotham and the time line is getting wild but at least I have the general vibes of each of the four big plot lines figured out:

(shoutout to Brennan Lee Mulligan's portrayl of Tula on Burrow's End for making me realize what Dan's story was gonna be lol)

[digitaltohru]

I can’t do this anymore

[joshym]

le morte d'arthur readers:

go say a massive thank you to @jakeyt for helping me with this next chapter. without her, i'm not sure i could've done it. 🤍

& with that said, be on the lookout for chapter 5 this weekend. 👏🏻

i'm so excited for it. 🥹

⚔︎♡⚔︎ ⚔︎♡⚔︎

[neveralarch]

i keep telling dez this but it's SO fun to write with her!!! just so everyone knows! every collab fic we post is the product of lots of enthusiastic yelling and frantic typing and it's very good and we're geniuses!!! also i reread our entire wip last night to fall asleep and then dez DIDN'T sleep bc she was thinking about it too much and then we wrote 4k words today so. this might not be the healthiest thing. but it's a lot of fun

[a-writing-otter]

Chapters: 5/11 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines Characters: Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Wendy Corduroy, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Original Characters, Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez, Melody (Gravity Falls) Additional Tags: Handyman Bill Cipher, Post-Book: The Book of Bill (Gravity Falls), Temporarily Human Bill Cipher, Blood and Injury, Unsuccessful Murder Attempts, Demon possession, Making Out, Smoking, Bill is Trying to Tap That So Hard, Alcohol, Underage Drinking, (Like only a little), Demon Exorcism Summary:

Things are complicated in Bill’s life as it is now that he’s in a human body on glorified house arrest while doing community service as the new handyman for the Mystery Shack, what he doesn’t need it a situationship-turned-maybe-just-ship with Ford Pines.

…maybe he shouldn’t seek it out either, but that’s besides the point. He’s got one goal and that’s to get back in his body, get his powers back, and far away from this rock.

So, when salvation comes in the form of a former fling spinning plans about how to get his revenge and eat it, too, Bill’s all too eager to listen. It’s not like he cares about these people, this place, or anything else here. He’s got plans, big plans, and there’s nothing that can stop him, not even these squishy, human emotions he’s starting to feel.

[compacflt]

I am sad you are leaving this blog but I want to squeeze in a question. You are a very natural writer and make it look so easy. I was curious if you use a beta reader for your work?

Hi ❤️ i do not, which is why my fics are so stupidly long😕 i have “can’t kill my darlings” syndrome, i have way too much to say and i don’t know how to prioritize what it is i want to say, so i say EVERYTHING. i genuinely believe my fics would be sooo much better if they were edited by someone else. someone who isn’t afraid to look at a scene/sentence and say “that’s stupid as fuck/not as successful as u want it to be, cut it.” im still in the process of editing so liiiiike if you have any issues with my fics literally just dm me to tell me what’s dumb/not working & what i should cut, it would actually be sooo helpful (you can ignore this most recent fic bc the whole point of that was stuff that would’ve been cut anyway lol)

i would have loved a beta reader but … you know me, i am so shit at time management and deadlines that 1.) i never had time for a beta reader because i am always over deadline by the time i finish a fic draft (like the slider one shot, which i said i would post last November and actually posted in April, 5 mo later)

and 2.) i never share ACTUAL wips with anyone, not even on wednesdays. My wip wednesdays are, and always have been, a total sham. most of my wips usually look like this

right up until like the week before i post them. like EVERY SINGLE scene looks like this, incomprehensible to anyone except me with my little delusions in my head, until i pull a few all- nighters and brute-force the transitions and the actions into place. so like i can’t share a real draft with anyone until (in my opinion) it’s basically passable enough to be a final draft anyway, especially for fanfic, like, my standards Are lower for “good enough” when it comes to fanfic. Above ⬆️ becomes below⬇️. obviously this ⬇️ isn’t perfect and will still need a final pass edit but it’s 🤷🏽‍♀️ good enough

what i really need a beta for is to tell me, in no uncertain terms, if this level of detail/the existence of this scene itself is actually ever warranted. lol.

3.) as previously mentioned i can’t hold a deadline/reply to messages on time to save my life so any beta would absolutely despise working with me i fear

[cassiopeiasara]

1200 words and some good resolution.

[chocosvt]

just came face to face with the paragraph limit

[missingn000]

[fruitageoforanges]

aemond & aegon's valyrian wedding, with helaena officiating, from my fic.

(please zoom in for more detail! there are a lot of details, for example, the handfasting binding is embroidered with vhagar and sunfyre!)

[charmac]

i hadnt realized that two new chapters of ur fic came out and i read them all in a night and im going actually insane over what happened

so good 10/10

That's probs for the best you didn't realise 10 was out until 11, since they were supposed to be one chapter but just got... way too long, lol. I'm glad you enjoyed :)

[tvcore-productions]

Box full of shards(WIP title)

Premise: Gengar takes care of a clefairy egg, that's all

This isnt the full fic but if this interest you, I'm probably gonna update more consistently on wattpad,ao3, and storyforge

The Weight of a Soul

Coldness shuttered the forest, a love for the dead ancestors but not the Pokemon that evolved by them.

The moon's glow silhouetted the rocky top of the mountain. A widened path down the mountain for a large Pokemon, that can smoothen the road and plant seeds that sprout along the way up to their den.

 The Aggron, not noticing the moon's reflection of the sun like a mirror cast down its cold light in front of their cave. The moon had begun peering inside the sleepy Aggron, with a shadow walking by the moon’s peering light in the darkness.

An eerie glow that shapes up into threads of seafoam, a house picture of a cabin of integrity. If it was a simple picture, it was surreal to remember. The Aggron was aloof in memories, a sight of staring at wood after following a rocky trail. 

Threads of their dream became a snack, for one ghost, and one more uncaring for others to sleep around the area. Gengar was out of the shadows. Stretching for their morning after midnight, with the moon peering away after Gengar took a slow, and patient time with eating Aggrons dream.

When the dreams were absorbed, the unnoticeable flutter of the Aggrons lidded their gaze up. They were unable to notice the shooting star approaching at comet speed. It was just their uninvited guest, 'whose weight on the world is the one wanting the dead as their companion to have more company,' Mother said.

“...Did you give me nightmares so you could eat more.”

The Gengar looked back, tilting their head with their smile, and gave a casual shrug.

The moon shines down on their translucent fur, outlining their curvy, rounded bodies. Gengars weren't known for their gender difference. But the off-putting contrast of soft, sharp eyes looking comfortable after a well-fed meal had tied Aggron's stomach.

The Gengar's flaming fur of their shadow silhouette, phasing out of the mountain. They gleamed through the forest before the sun rose for others' dreams. Grinning a haunting face of gleam for eating their 'Morning breakfast dew'.

Renergized to leave a soul-sleeping sound. But even the ghost-type would chuckle over their dismay as they left their den. The Gengars’s eyes contorted back to how it was to an uncaring and prankster gleam like their smile.

The trail, dirt smoothed, and footsteps from a dragon made of steel smooth down the path and hold the forest neatly. A bigger Aggron repetitively watches the dance of the pond market, sitting by the cliff.

A Clefairy egg by the mountain's south side, no Clefables live on this particular mountain. Well if you were someone who hiked and didn't take any visual clues. It is not like there be any for the Gengar to notice, for there is only a pink and brown contrast by the gray spikes.

Was there a Ditto sleeping, no dreams sensed, so whose soul isn't sleeping so small? It was but an egg, in the dusted smell of rain. What poured down on this side of the mountain? Is there a cave that had its overflowing flood like a volcano, of silent death of the dead? 

There was a lot of water here. The Gengar couldn't care after the thought of climate politics came. Their nice nice-tasting nightmares other Pokemon would guess.

Through its shell, a flame sparks inside. It falters from being small. Around it was much rubble. 

But Gengar’s hand grazes over the head of the egg. An egg can't cry, an egg is only a cradle for the baby inside. 

Gengar’s fades away, trying to take a closer look into the soul realm.

The soul felt themselves under a palm of shadows.

The Gengar feels trivialized, with the soul not flickering like a Worrid Litwick.

In the Gengar’s palm, the flame balanced a little more. The sun was damping the sky in tangerine, the color of oranges that June would harvest. With the sun, staining the sky with red herbal tea, the Gengar was left… lost in thought, smiling in their eyes.

And then the afternoon sang, in the leaves whistles and underground rivers hit the sides of rocks.

The stronghold taiga trees of rough bark and pinecones, the orange sky seemed to drain its color on the leaves, shadows dance, and bush flicker. Tree scratches and Pokemon-marked dens and shrubs. It was down by the side of the southern side of the ghost mountain, less Pokemon, more empty.

Quagsire had 3 injuries dusted across her body; One crossed the side of her eye like a miss, a bruised arm bandaged around her right shoulder, and a bruise around her outer right leg.

"Hey! You'd already had your breakfast." 

She shouted, being annoyed and a bit brash to the sonder pansage. Something cold burdened the wind heavily, on the edge of the mountain and tree’s small meadow.

“It's Ariados from the webbed embroideries bushes! Have some respect for your market neighbors or whatever you call the market beside you.”

The little Pansage stared at her. Looking around for any Ariados she spoke of. No apprentice or hungry seller in sight. Feeling ready for another bite of redberry delight, that’d taste better stolen.

Till a sudden glance at red eyes locking eyes at the bush, glazing passed the pansage.

The pansage froze and dropped the raspberry. Hitting for a sprint behind the Quagsire.

“Hey!”

The Qougsire yelped, picking up the shaking Pansage to lecture. Abruptly sighing and leaves hand in hand.

Gengar picked up the fresh leaves inside the stem, the nice trees surrounded the bushes, healthily meshing with the other bushes that caress something fruitful.

Far from the trail of an old dry well, there are willow trees with disorganized missiles punctured and falling beneath the tree’s roots. The willow trees are in a circle around the taiga, the only reason the place would be called Willow Peak, at least until you see the willow trees growing at the side of the mountain.

Maractus, rolled their shoulders taking a breath of the earthy air, winding up and down their shoulders like the wind hitting the rocks. They look over their left shoulder, blazed and dry with scorch marks of black outlining a fiery detail from the brown wound.. 

“Oh hey Gengar” 

Gengar plucks the pins that got embedded in the trees. Gengar carried quite a handful.

“Bye Gengar.”

Gengar looked back with a welcomed smile, seeing Maractus back, and waved back with a small bye.

Fraxure rolled down the willow trees' bigger roots clawing out of the ground. taking the leaves from the Fraxure pokemon head.

“Oh, thanks shadow mon.”

Gengar smiles, seeping into the shadow of the willow tree branches.

Back to their home in a splintered in their gaze, the egg resting on the ‘good’ pillow side. No risks to see if resting the egg on top of the puffy pillow will off-balance the egg with a splash.

Nesting on the rock wasn't soft enough. Cleaning off or taking the leaves that seemed crunchy and dry from autumn sleeves, sliding the leaves off the edge of the hidey hole. Gengar was glad that the willow tree’s enrichment might only dry in winter.

With specks of sand, it itches to rock to bed in. At least it was pocket sand rather than a sandstorm. Lines cross the cave walls that specks of sand coated on the floor and leaves.

They let their shoulders rest, eyes anticipating something they wouldn't hold.

Gengar held the Clefairy egg up to them. Stargazing at the egg.

The sun finally grazed its light where it could see the market stalls, hanging embroidery and stained glass coloring the floors, and the rock of the second biggest dragon-type living there.

Near the front of the cobblestone paths, market stalls smell raspberry and citrus-dried oranges hanging in some windows and stalls.

Aggron whimpered, down in the forest. 

"Aggron could I have the splinter on your-"

"As long as you don't eat my dreams anymore." 

Their rose gold charm bracelet sparkled with a spinal and tera, pink and all-seeing shaked. Or made noise like any other bracelet would.

"What did you ask," Another Aggron appeared from the quiet rustling of their dexterity to the area.

"A Simple Request"

“Ok ok, but curiosity didn't kill an Aggron with one life.” They’d asked again, leaning themselves down to the Gengar’s height. 

“What is it that you want a splinter,” 

A Yamask peered out of the tall grass and beside the two Aggrons bored.

“I say Gengar’s been nesting with the omen of surprise.” Yamask chuckled, much to the dismay of the Aggron Avilara.

“...” The Gengar was waiting patiently with a following gaze, “I apologize for the assumption of this errand, I am Avilara, let’s not have this be a bad impression.”

Avilara has yet to get acquainted with the full-moon troublemaker, quietly keeping to themselves. 

The Gengar still smiled, “It’s good luck to have the blood of a big Pokemon for a nest, energy from the blood can make an egg strong. And this is just the right typing from a dragon type.”

The message hauntingly goes by the wind, un-phasing the mother, but terrifyingly confusing their son. The Yamask laughed, wiping a small tear, “Sure, a dragon-type that hoards rock.”

With a wooden splinter with Aggron blood, the eggs' health has never made the Gengar any more hopeful than they confidently were for a strong egg.

Gengar placed the thorn by the egg, their nesting complete and back home at their dens hidden ‘attic’.

The Gengar nestled back into their cave's shadow, along with a flare of soul from their newfound kin. Maybe they heard giggling in their ears, with their ears flicking up staring amiss the egg. With stars-struck eyes.

The far up of the cave had a hole the Gengar floated right up to. Sitting up the crevasses. A drop like that would break any egg, but out of claw reach if they don’t know where to look

The Gengar eyes splintered, the pittering flame of the egg.

Gengar rested on their eggs. Their claw runs a circle on the top of the pink and brown eggshell cradling the little soul.

 'It Boy' by Bbnomula plays on a small recorder, by the empty candle with a sweet smell of dead rose on the light pink wax.

{1700}

Knitting Railways{wip title} and Technically Chapter 2 after I mashed both one-shots turned filler chapter, into one fic. Deleted the part in the middle with aggron and the swanne in migration, but hey kept all the tropes

Also CHAPTER 2 @@@@ Button

[courtney-deserved-better]

i keep thinking to myself “wow i can’t believe im writing my first ridonculous race rewrite that will actually be ready to post soon-ish!” and then i remember that operation nemma* exists

*no actual romantic nemma is contained in operation nemma. just platonic. and lots of alenoah. it’s a confusing title. i know.

[kinneys]

I'm going to Paris next weekend and I treated myself to a rewatch of the bourne identity (2002) last night. And you may think I had an amazing time and felt rejuvenated with love for the ship that compromises a good 60% of the movies screentime and whose falling in love is central to the narrative arc. Think again!!!! I spent the whole time like this isn't hitting like it should :/ and had to watch my own supercut of #content after to remember and accept that unfortunately what really deeply and truly makes me crazy is the sequel where she dies in the first SIXTEEN minutes. This is my fate. I hate my brain so much so often

[mareenavee]

Another Sacrifice

For the prompt: Dragon Priest

A shoutout to @changelingsandothernonsense for these caveats:

Dragon Priest's POV Nyenna is the LDB

For those of you who aren't yet familiar, Nyenna is my OC from my main fic, The World on Our Shoulders. This piece is NON CANON. (:

Hope you like the oddness. It was a fun one!

Tagging @throughtrialbyfire, @dirty-bosmer, @archangelsunited, and @paraparadigm <3 It's another Second Person POV and I know you guys have always really supported my efforts on that front, too and it is so, so appreciated!

without further ado~

Another Sacrifice

It has been centuries—untold eras since you last breathed the air of the crypt you called your final resting place. Your skin, fragile now, stretches across your bones like canvas. You need not breathe, for long ago your insides had putrefied. You are desiccated, and yet more powerful than you have ever been before. You feel the magic pulse between the spaces in your ribs where your heart and lungs used to rest. You exhale dust and ash as you rise from your tomb, awakened by a sound in your head—

“Krii daar joorre.”

So He had returned in the end, as he said he would. As you said you would. His Voice echoes across the tundras and river valleys, through mountains and caverns and into the tombs you’d sequestered yourself in waiting for this promised day when you would be called forth from your slumber. Finally, the time has come to make use of the power you had sacrificed everything for. You are to rule this place as you were always meant to rule—with absolute, unshakeable power, guided only by Alduin’s will.

Only, for a moment, it is as if the Words do not ring. The Voice you’ve been hearing is different from what was expected, its signature sideways in your ears. You open your mouth to try and speak, and find yourself unable to articulate. Your trachea has rotted through, the skin peeling from the effort of opening your jaw. How, then, are you to call to your Lord? How, then, are you to respond?

You look through eyes that are not eyes, and through the veil of magic that sustains you, a figure emerges. You know her, and yet you do not. She speaks your language, and yet does not speak at all. She crouches in the darkness, her spectral bow glimmering in the faint light. She has eliminated the ones whose life force kept you in stasis. She is why you are now awake. Not to kill all mortals—just this one. You are confused for a brief moment as you sift through your memories and try to wrap your head around this breach of etiquette. Only Alduin was supposed to call you forth. You were to rise to greet him and lead his army of thralls, and return this place to the unyielding rule of the Dragon Cult. That had been your purpose. That was the power you had sacrificed everything for.

Anger, or something like it, flashes in what is left of your mind—not so much a mind as a swirling cloud of Necromantic magics housed inside a crumbling skull. This false dragon, whose soul hides itself inside a prison of flesh, had the gall to destroy the reserves of soul-power you had so carefully hand selected, in such ways that they would never rise again. And now? Now she intends to fight you, bow brandished as if her power could hope to be your equal—or your undoing.

A vile cackle leaves what is left of your throat. The girl before you does not cower, does not bend to the enormity of your presence. Your hand grips the cool gold of the staff you carried. A shock of power runs through it and across your body. Your laughter, deep and insidious, does not stop as the magic courses through the pathways that used to be veins, muscle, sinew. You float, no longer bound by the constraints of mortal existence. Your lips, or what remains of them, twist into a sneer. Without effort, you redirect the storm you summoned, aiming for the false dragon, the one without wings, the one without authority. You will end her. That is the only directive you can follow. -> Read the rest on AO3.