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siarven · 5 years

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Fluffcember Day 3 - Humming

Fluffcember Prompt list! :3

WIP: Like Dragons of Old Characters: Timbre, Selandri POV: Selandri 1749 words. Rest and Tags below the cut! :3

In which Selandri and Timbre explore the Observatory, find beautiful books, and Timbre starts humming, which opens up so many new possibilities—

The fourth floor held storybooks.

Selandri’s eyes widened as she saw them—there were more tables in here, more comfy areas to sit, too. Some of the books had pages filled with nothing but beautifully rendered illustrations. Some had more text and less images. Selandri was entranced from the beginning—the pictures seemed to be alive, and they were beautiful.

After she’d stared for lengths at the cover of one of these books she suddenly felt Timbre standing directly behind her, looking over her shoulder, her head so close that Selandri inadvertently held her breath before realizing how stupid that was.

“Can you teach me how to read them?”, Timbre asked quietly.

Selandri hesitated. “I— I could try”, she said uncertainly. “But I’m… not really very good at it. Like. At all?—But I will try!” Her heart was suddenly beating a lot faster than it had before, and she wasn’t entirely sure why, so she tried to distract herself by staring at the book cover in front of them. It was beautiful, made from dark leather and adorned with the finely drawn head of a stag, looking at them with bright, knowing eyes. Underneath it was the title, written in a far more flowing version of the script her parents had tried their best to teach her… except suddenly, none of the symbols seemed familiar in the least. Both the title and the drawing were done in golden ink, and the drawing was so much more appealing than the writing. Except that Timbre wanted to know.

So Selandri took a deep breath and tried to make her thoughts stop spinning around her in circles. “Uhm, do you see this symbol? It—it means…” She couldn’t even remember the name of the stupid thing. “…I’m sorry. I… didn’t really spend much time trying to learn it, you know? It kind of… nah. Just not my type of thing.” She looked off to the side, feeling something she couldn’t even properly name, like a knot in her stomach, only fluttery. And weird. “Now I kind of wish I had, though. Because then I could teach you…”

Timbre smiled. “It’s fine”, she said. Her voice was so gentle! “I… I think I’ll just ask the Observer.”

For a while they just stood there, each lost to their own thoughts. Selandri felt herself staring at the art again and again, and after a while the strange knot left, replaced by something that could only be yearning. One day I will draw like that, she promised herself, and Timbre can write the text. We will make the best team!

And then Timbre started to make a strange sound, and the world… changed.

The air was suddenly alight with colours, shifting, pulsing, dancing around them in the most beautiful patterns, and Selandri inadvertently found herself holding her breath, transfixed.

The words were out before she could really stop herself: “What are you doing?” Timbre stopped. The colours went out.

It felt as if all the weights in the world had been lifted for a moment, only to come crashing down again, converging on her. She realized that she’d tilted her head back, even lifted her hands as if to grab for the colours, only now it felt childish and stupid.

“Uhh, humming?”, she heard Timbre ask, her voice careful, a bit confused, coming as if through a fog. “It’s a song my guardians—my parents—used to sing to me when I was small…” And then Selandri noticed the tears in Timbre’s eyes, and the fog left, and then she was already hugging the other girl, even as Timbre continued to speak, slowly, painfully. “They— they sang it for me when … when everything changed, too…”

After a moment, Timbre finally hugged her back, and when they finally broke apart, they were both a bit flustered, and Timbre eyed her in a curiously skittish way, with an uncertain smile on her lips, looking away when Selandri met her eyes. It should’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t even that. Selandri couldn’t even say what it was, exactly. Through some kind of forbidden magic, though, she did hear herself speak, though, even if everything else about this situation felt both exhilarating and weird at the same time.

“Can you… can you sing it to me? The song? Like… now? I … I don’t think I’ve—” She broke off, feeling strangely off-kilter, weird in her own skin. Uncertain. “I think… I think I’ve never heard music before. And— there were—” She broke off again, but then her eyes found Timbre’s.

“There were?”, Timbre repeated. There was something wild about her eyes, something that made Selandri’s heart race.

“Colours”, she whispered. “Colours, Timbre. I saw colours when you were humming. But how… I must have noticed them before, right? Or maybe they were so diffuse… no-one ever makes music here. No-one ever sings. Can you sing for me?”

Timbre hesitated, looking away. Selandri suddenly felt very self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, if your parents…”

“No, it’s not that… it’s just. The song… it’s not in our language? It’s the Cinnrié… a healing song. To help you calm down, to help you sleep, to heal your fears and nightmares… I— I’m afraid of speaking it here? I don’t know the costs. Or the… what they’d do to me if they heard.” She looked around nervously.

Selandri felt strangely disappointed, and she couldn’t even say why. She really wanted to ask what exactly Timbre was talking about, but at the same time it felt like something private. So she just sighed, wistfully.

“I get it… but maybe you can sing it without lyrics? I just— it was so beautiful…”

Timbre brightened. “I can do that! I think the magic is in the words, not in the song itself.”

And then she sat down on the ground, cross-legged, with Selandri following her, and when Timbre started humming, the colours returned, brighter and more beautiful than the last time, building and building until Timbre was singing, but without words. Her voice was so pure and beautiful that Selandri wanted to start crying, but then she would’ve heard less, so she forced the sobs down and just let the colours and the sounds wash over her.

She didn’t notice when she started describing them out loud, their positions and brightness and beauty.

When Timbre finally stopped, she had to use her sleeve to wipe off her tears before being able to see her. Her friend looked pale and shaky and somehow other, but she was smiling, a smile so wide and sad and sweet that it made Selandri’s heart ache.

“That— we have to do that again”, Timbre whispered after a moment, her voice rough with emotions Selandri couldn’t even place.

She nodded. “Yes, we do…”, she said, and her voice was almost as shaky as Timbre’s.

“I— I could feel them”, Timbre said. “I can’t really remember them… but… sort of? We have to find out if the same sound always connects to the same colour, and how the brightness and everything changes. But… I think…”

Selandri grinned, sniffing. Her eyes felt puffy and raw and she’d never been happier in her entire life. “I… if I can somehow help you with this… you sing so beautifully. Everything—so beautiful.” She looked at her in admiration. “How do you do it?”, she asked.

“What? Sing? I… open my mouth, and then sounds come out.” Timbre grinned at her, but there was something fragile about that grin, about her eyes, something Selandri couldn’t place. Still, she laughed. “No”, she said, echoing Timbre’s grin, “I mean, like… how do you make it so the sounds work? I— I bet I could learn to sing, too. But… I don’t know if I could do it that perfectly. That they fit together like a puzzle, with that… precision?”

Timbre looked away. When she finally spoke again she sounded sad, and Selandri wanted to take back every word instantly, only it was too late. “I—I don’t even know how I can remember. Maybe because it’s seared into my mind, because I replayed it over and over again so I would never forget, back in the woods? I was supposed to become Cintu. Like my… my parents. A Singer.”

Oh. Capital S Singer. Suddenly things clicked into place. Magic. Cinnrié… songs. Singing. She’d learned about them before, about the people who could weave magic with their voices by paying a terrible price. Selandri felt herself growing very still. “You— you were… oh…”

“My ancestors… they were very good with sounds. With recreating them perfectly. My family, specifically. It’s been so long but I still remember their tales as if it were yesterday. My guardians, they were a Singer and a Speaker. My, uh, father played the violin to accompany my … mother?—my mother, when she was singing. Her voice was incredible. But— you need a voice like that, to become a Singer. It’s the first thing I ever remember. Their music. Her singing. They… I don’t know if they, uh, healed my body after I’d gotten born so I could do it, too, or if it would have been natural anyways. Cintu are— were chosen at birth.”

Selandri just stared at her, at the back of her head, the soft small leaves, the stitched-together back of her tunic. The wings. Timbre refused to turn, refused to look.

“I—I am sorry”, Selandri finally said. “I’m sorry that this… that we don’t let you use the Cinnrié. That my—that everyone hates it so much.”

Timbre laughed, and finally turned back around. It was a small, sad laugh. “It’s not your fault. And they’re right. Without the Cinnrié, my people would still… but no. They wouldn’t still be alive. They would’ve died anyways. Just differently. But I would be dead, too. With my parents. Without the Aunae, every living thing back there would be dead. The trees and plants, too.”

They stared at each other wordlessly, neither knowing how to break this suddenly heavy silence.

“Let’s go see the other floors”, Selandri finally said, speaking the first thing that came to her mind.

Timbre nodded courtly, and then they left the beautiful book behind. Only now did Selandri notice that Timbre hadn’t even been able to see those colours.

But maybe one day I can sing, too. Then I can sing to her how the colours would look. Then we could sing colours together.

And that thought finally brought her smile back.

@dramaticvoiceover @asttralhell @authordai @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad @wilde-writing @madmoonink @prismalicht @romenna @fynniana @sincerestaffect @random-stuff-thrown-into-a-pot @raiswanson @zekethegm @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @stephrawlingwrites @kittensartswriting @annelaurant-writing @lady-redshield-writes @wolfdancer333 @bmariewinter @thedrowningtsarevna @corishadowfang @dogwrites @pinespittinink

#fluffcember #fluffcember 2019 #ldoo #like dragons of old #ldoo excerpt #i love how this one turned out #even if it takes a tiny turn down towards the end #and I can even just integrate it into the story!!#:')#hope you like it too #my two smol disaster beans

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urbanteeth · 5 years

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Fluffcember 2019

Hosted by: @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @siarven @raiswanson

Notes: ay I’m lowkey late in this but! It’s here and it’s done! Some angst but it’s in general v Soft and uhh I’m actually pretty proud of it!

Character: Oliver West

Word Count: 1193

Boats & Birds // Gregory And The Hawk

The cold wind nipped at Oliver’s nose and cheeks and frosted his breath as it left his body in a deep sigh of contentment. Hands tucked into his pockets, he strolled down the sidewalk under a sky still existing in the liminal blue of twilight. Autumn still crowned the trees in gold and crimson but hints of snow powdered days tip-toed in on cloudy white paws, lengthening the dark of night bit by bit as season slipped away. Already, lights twinkled from windows and wrapped around mailboxes. The air of festivity smelled like burning wood smoke trailing lazily from chimneys, hummed quietly in bursts of dizzying excitement as sleepy families stirred from their warm beds. The holidays brought as much chaos as they did rest and the job always tasted so much more bitter in the winter.

Becoming jaded, detaching himself from the job, was not a shield he wanted to raise. But sometimes, sometimes, the pavement stained red too deeply and the final, terrible, anguished plea stared back from eyes too much like glass and the gut-wrenching cries of the unfortunate first to get the news haunted his mind when the silence was too void-like black, consuming. Sometimes, he welcomed the tiny seed of misanthropy that settled roots in his chest.

But always, Oliver never wanted to cultivate it. He couldn’t bring himself to peacefully coexist with the weed that sprung from those tiny roots. Oh, it would be easy, so easy, to let it grow as it would. And yet, he’d seen too many hollow eyes, some living with hardly a distinction from the dead, to know better, to grow instead an active fear of the yawning, hungry void.

So, when the days shortened and the cold winds descended from the mountains, howling their lonesome despair, and the job began to look a little meaner, he’d do a little gardening of the soul.

Weaving his way around an army of potted plants, herbs, a handful of fruit trees, he felt the warmth wrapping the tiny house before he even pushed open the door made rough from paint chipping off in big, coral pink flakes.

Immediately, arms pulled him close and squeezed, Korean permeated with joy filling his ears, tugging an ear to ear grin from his lips.

“Hi, momma,” he said with a laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She gathered his hands in her own, placing hers over his to defrost his fingers. He stooped a little lower for her to press a kiss against his forehead. “Oh, let me look at you!” She cupped his face, her hands rough and calloused but oh so warm against his skin, taking in his smile, cheeks red from the cold. “Just as I thought,” she said gravely, patting his cheeks. “Handsome as ever. Let’s get you warmed up.”

“Aw, you know I learned from the best.” He followed her to the small table pushed up against one of the big windows overviewing the town’s massive mirror-like lake. Oliver settled into one of the chairs, his mother disappearing back into the kitchen and reappearing with two steaming mugs of fragrant tea. She pushed one in his direction before taking a sip from her own.

“Talk to me, Ollie. What’s wrong?”

Oliver looped his fingers around the mug’s handle and cradled it in his hands, breathing in the spicy scent of ginger. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head, careful to keep his tone light and cheery.

His mother sat across from him and set her mug to the side, hands folding together, her joy at seeing him diminishing into a soft worry playing over her features. “Oh come on, Ollie! What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t know when something was bothering my son?”

He set the mug down, hesitant, half-torn. For a moment he imagined letting the ugliness in his chest spill like blood. But he couldn’t do that to her, his loving momma who he knew worried deeply about him every time he was called out to a scene, who would stay up with him without ever asking why, who both cried with him when he found himself falling, falling, falling and helped him pick the pieces off the floor.Tough as she was, he wouldn’t allow it to plague her as it did him. “I...I can’t really talk about it.”

But he knew from the way his hurt reflected in her eyes that she knew. He didn’t have to say it. “Does it have to do with your work?”

Silence grew and stretched between them and Oliver found himself staring at his hands, unsure at how to fill it. “It’s just…” he began, then stopped. How could he begin to give the ugliness a name when he himself barely recognized the inner workings? “It hurts, momma,” he finally breathed, unable to keep the quiver out of his voice, “to know people can– can do… all of that.”

“Oh, Ollie.” She slipped his hand in between hers, squeezing gently. And in a moment as quick and sharp as a snap of someone’s fingers, he was 17 again, sitting at the same table, his mother running a thumb softly over bruised knuckles. He traced the wood grain with his eyes. If he looked at her, he’d be truly in danger of crying.

“How can people do such horrible things?”

She sighed. “Oh...I wish I could have an answer for that, Oliver. Some people simply choose to be cruel.” She paused and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “But, here’s what I do know. You, sweetheart? You and that big heart of yours? The world thrives because of people like you.”

“Do you...do you think so?” He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat.

“I might not have a fancy college degree, but this I know to be true. Every day you choose not to be cruel is a day you have already won. Don’t ever let anyone tell you this heart of yours doesn’t make a difference, my son.”

He blinked, vision blurring from watery tears threatening to come spilling forward. He cleared his throat, wrestling back the tears, the corners of his mouth upturning into a smile instead. “Thank you.”

She gave his hand a final pat before releasing him. “Well? Are you hungry?”

“Oh, man. For your cooking? Always.”

“Think you can handle making an egg this time, hmm?” Her eyes glittered with an amused light.

He scoffed, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m hurt. I’m the Gordon Ramsey of cooking eggs.”

Together, they fell into routine, every step and every breath and every quip and laugh weaving into a blanket of familiar comfort. The ease of being together, their work one born from love, the feeling of finally, finally coming home bloomed like summer in his chest. Outside, a low, rising sun gilded the sky in peach and gold and pink.

“I love you, momma.”

“I love you too, Ollie.”

And sometimes, the world was simply that: a bowl of rice, the scent of cooking meat, and eggs cracked and sizzling in a pan, all while outside, the day began anew.

TTW Taglist (click here to be added): @cluelessbuttercup @dogwrites @goldfinvhs @tragedyshow @tenacious-scripturient @diwrites @mirror-of-too-many-books @isanyonetoknow @makealltheboymoosegowahhh @waterproof-pages @velvetinewitch @wreckageofus @thewalkingnerdx @woodhouse-jay @writeouswriter @dashy-mcdasher @drist-n-dither @klywrites

#to the wolves #ch. oliver west #fluffcember #fluffcember 2019 #fluffcember2019 #yeah i cried writing this #and what about it

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gestaltandmyfanwy · 4 years

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Fluffcember 2019: Sick

What had Myfanwy gotten herself into this time? Better yet, why had she come here and not spoken to Eliza or Teddy? She was carrying a bowl of something covered in foil when Alex got downstairs.

"What's wrong?" they asked.

"Well, hello to you, too."

"Sorry. Hello." They shoved their hands into their pockets.

"I've brought some soup for Robert."

They raised their eyebrows. "How did you know Robert was sick?"

"Because he hasn't been into the offices in two days and you keep rotating bodies amongst the other three." She handed them the soup. "Get well soon."

#fluffcember2019 #fluffcember 2019 #no.15 #mystalt #the rook starz

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nadunacreates · 5 years

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HEROES BLEED RED • FLUFFCEMBER PROMPT FILL

days one to six: sunrise // flower crown // humming // lake // gentle touch // cute animal

set somewhere after the epilogue that has yet to be written; a soft ending; 2k words, continued under the cut.

•

Radiant is sitting next to her, once again. They’re back out here, once again, with the same mountains and forests surrounding them, stretching as far as they can see. This time, though, time doesn’t matter. They don’t have to hurry back to the city, there’s no rush to be anywhere, no need to pretend that this is not exactly where they’re supposed to be and who they’re supposed to be with. This time, it’s easy to linger, to settle back against the grass that’s cold and wet with dew, to interlace their fingers and tip their heads back, keep their eyes on the horizon and watch the sun rise over the valley, watch the Mountain Beasts rip entire trees out of the ground and crush them to dust with their razor-sharp teeth, grazing contentedly and bleating ‘good morning’s at each other like overgrown, furless sheep.

The air is filled with birdsong and the smell of spring; there are flowers that crane their heads towards the first rays of light, that let the sun’s fingers caress their newborn bodies, and they sigh softly when the warmth of a new day seeps deep into their leaves, makes their blossoms flutter and the color pop. There are busy bees and hungry caterpillars, a wild bunny or two, and it feels like it’s the whole world that’s spreading out before them, finally at peace. Finally able to heal.

Moe startles when Radiant tugs her hand out of Moe’s grasp, when she sighs and tugs off her mask, shoots a sheepish smile in Moe’s direction as she lets her hair fall loose over her shoulders. “It’s better that way,” Kaliope says quietly. Her eyes glow. “I don’t even know why I put it on in the first place.” Moe smiles back at her, but in the end, there’s no need to say anything. She knows why Kaliope put it on in the first place, just as well as Kaliope herself knows it, probably, even if she doesn’t quite want to admit it.

It’s still hard, after all.

Some days are still worse than others, and sometimes the memories press in on them both, barely let them breathe. Memories of both good and bad, of things past that they wish they could change and those that they wouldn’t ever, of light and dark and dark and light, and all these grey spaces in-between. It’s never easy, but sometimes it’s bearable. Sometimes it’s okay, because they’re going to be fine. Because somewhere down the road, they’re going to be okay. And right now, they’re just working towards that goal, day after day, step by step, along that winding path.

Moe realizes she’s still smiling when she blinks the shadow of these memories out of the corners of her eyes, blinks and notices that Kaliope still isn’t holding her hand again, but instead she’s now holding up a flower crown woven of forget-me-nots and daisies and other small plants that Moe doesn’t know the name of, isn’t sure if they’re even flowers or just random weeds. Then again, Kaliope has never needed perfection to love something, to be able to appreciate its inherent beauty in spite of all appearances. (She’s always been the one to look closer, deeper, to listen and wait and figure out the truth for herself, to see beauty from within.) Moe realizes she’s still smiling because it almost hurts when she wants to grin even wider at the sight, when her throat closes up as if that was where these flowers were growing, and even swallowing twice doesn’t do anything about the choking feeling at the back of her throat or about the sudden dryness of her eyes, the way they itch and water and— Moe keeps smiling despite the quiver of her lips, because of the quiver in her lips, and she closes her eyes, leans forward and bows her head in Kaliope’s direction, a silent acquisition followed by an agreeing noise from under her breath, a shaky hum to distract from the way she’s literally rendered speechless. Kaliope laughs a little to herself, softly, and takes care to arrange the flower crown on Moe’s head, to weave it into the short brown locks, to make sure it doesn’t fall apart at the slightest movement. She takes a moment to admire the image once she’s done, after, and there’s a pause during which Moe doesn’t dare to open her eyes. She feels the weight of Kaliope’s gaze on her, though, and it’s a comforting kind of burden. Then Kaliope runs her hand down the side of Moe’s face, oh so gently, cups her palm against her cheek, and lets her thumb stroke along the bone underneath Moe’s right eye, brushes a few stray tears away. She doesn’t say anything, for a while, just hums and stays close and leans forward to touch her forehead against Moe’s when Moe’s breaths finally start to calm, when there’s no hitch to them, anymore.

Moe’s hands itch to touch Kaliope back, return the gesture of reverence, to wrap her up in a hug and just… hold her close, for a while, to know that she’s here and she’s not going anywhere, and it only takes the span of a heartbeat for Moe to remember that she’s allowed to do these things, now, that Kaliope even requested she give in to such whims whenever she wants to — and oh, how she wants to.

Still, she’s careful when she raises her hand to come to a rest on Kaliope’s wrist, on the hand that’s still cupping Moe’s cheek. Kaliope doesn’t flinch or back away, so Moe runs that hand along Kaliope’s arm down to her elbow, up to her shoulder, back down again, following soft curves and well-known paths, until she reaches the cage of her ribs and lets her other hand join it there, and then she wraps both of her arms around Kaliope’s waist, oh so gently, pulls her close — buries her face in her neck and just breathes, for a while.

Kaliope’s own hands come to a rest on Moe’s shoulder blades now, and still she’s running her thumbs back and forth in soothing circles, a subconscious gesture that makes Moe relax a fraction more, until Kaliope is all but holding her up, capable and strong and unyielding, sarcastic and soft and gentle, and gods, how Moe loves her.

She loves her.

It’s not really a revelation.

It’s something she’s known for a while now, the same way she knows when the moon is full or when there’s a storm coming, something that’s ingrained deep in her bones and impossible to get out, something that’s as much a part of her as the blood in her veins and the heart that beats in her chest, only that now that heart beats for Kaliope, too, a thump-thump-thump of you’re-here-beside-me, of no-more-masks-I-know-you-and-you-know-me and let-me-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-with-you. It’s— it feels like coming home. Coming home to the kind of home where the fireplace is lit during wintertime (because Emerson will never not complain when it’s cold outside and there’s no fire in the hearth), where it smells like fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies (because Maura found that new recipe and had to try it) and where there’s a new painting on the wall (because Lisa has finally found her inspiration again), a home where cat and dog lie curled up next to (and on top of) each other in front of the flames, where Kaliope looks up with a smile and ink-stained fingers when Moe enters, where Moe gets to come home and press a kiss to Kaliope’s lips, where she stumbles forward and lands in Kaliope’s lap (because Farren is a little shit and they just won’t quit match-making Moe even after Moe has found her match). It feels like coming home to a home that’s no longer a pipe dream made of mere wisps and smoke of hopeful thinking, but rather a home that’s made of solid bricks and mortar, steady, sturdy and reliable, comfortable and real, and it’s not something she has to wish upon a star for, but rather something that actually happened that way just last week, and... yes.

Moe might be more than ready to say it now, and she’s never considered herself a coward, doesn’t want to start now, so—

“I love you,” she says, and very much feels as though she just took a tumble down a cliff; her heart is in her throat and her are hands shaking, so she fists them in the material of Radiant’s cloak and hopes for the best. She took a tumble down the cliff and she can’t fly, anymore, but Kaliope will always be there to catch her. She holds her closer still, and Moe can feel the way her fingers shake as she stops drawing patterns on the bare skin of Moe’s neck, as she presses them flat against it instead, as though she has to steady herself. Kaliope breathes in and out and her hair tickles Moe’s nose and her heart beats a steady rhythm against Moe’s chest and then she turns her head to the side, presses her lips to the place where shoulder meets neck, where that scar runs down along Moe’s collarbone, and she says, whisper-quiet, “I love you.”

Moe smiles, again, or maybe still, and she lets herself melt back into Kaliope’s embrace, lets herself just enjoy the moment. There’s nothing more that needs to be said, nothing that couldn’t wait just a few minutes more.

The sun has fully risen now, the Mountain Beasts have moved on, a little, stopped eating trees and started ripping chunks out of the mountainside, instead, and a few of them have trotted down to the water to drink, and it’s their old friend who stops and stares on his way, who cranes his long neck and roars a greeting. Kaliope startles at the sound, but it only takes her half a heartbeat to recognize the sound and know that it isn’t a threat, and then she starts laughing, the full-belly kind of laughter that leaves her unable to hold Moe close anymore, that makes her stomach cramp and her voice go too high, her eyes crinkle and glow brighter, sparkle with mirth, and it makes the hiccups start again.

Kaliope leans into Moe’s side as she’s calming down, then, lets her fingers wrap against Moe’s and lifts those intertwined hands to her mouth to kiss the back of Moe’s hand, but doesn’t quite manage to follow through with the whole pressing-her-lips-to-skin thing, because she hiccups again. Opens her mouth in affront, to protest, hiccups again. She snaps her mouth shut and glares, and this is the moment that Moe’s composure dissolves into laughter as well, carefree for once, just happy to be here, with Kaliope, to enjoy this moment of peace. Freedom.

It’s not perfect. There’s grass stuck to Kaliope’s cheek and her fingers are stained with the color of the flowers she used for the crown, and Moe thinks there’s hair in her mouth and her own legs are getting numb from the way she sits and the fact that the cold and wet grass has really become a nuisance now, but it’s good. It’s good.

They’re alive, they have each other.

Tomorrow will come, and it will come with yet another beautiful sunrise.

It’s more than enough, and Moe loves every second of it.

•

author’s note at the end, because wow this has gotten long.

i’m… not bad at writing daily, but rather at being able to produce something actually readable daily. which is why, when i saw how perfectly these first six days of the fluffcember prompts go together, i couldn’t resist writing a single piece for them all. i hope you enjoyed it!

also. i realized pretty late that this whole thing probably counts as a major spoiler because it’s literally an epilogue after an epilogue, but. i kinda don’t care. i also don’t care that i have no idea just what these two have been through, in the end, because i haven’t written it yet. i know what my PLAN is, and i know it’s gonna be ... bad, but honestly my writing rarely goes according to plan, so this might very well end up never happening like that. it was still a nice break from the angst.

(and mountain beasts count as cute animals, right?)

#fluffcember 2019 #amwriting #writing #original writing #creative writing #writeblr #superheroes (and villains) getting their needed break #hbr: excerpt #wip: heroes bleed red #sorry for any mistakes and english weirdness #it was late when i wrote this and english isn't my native language so #but if you want to provide feedback or constructive criticism please feel free to do so #it's part of the very first draft and probably won't make it into the story but #i know my writing style is ... different and i'm very curious about your opinions!#char: moe baldwin #char: kaliope sanders #long post #just in case the readmore doesn't work..

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thewrittenpost · 5 years

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Fluffcember Day Three

Not too long today, just happened because I've been up since 2am (it's only about 5:45 am now to be fair) and I did homework because couldn't sleep and now I need a break! Since it's short, I'll wait to put a Read More up until later, when I remember and won't get distracted by desktop things!

Prompt: Humming

He wasn’t sure how to react the first time. The easiest -sometimes smartest- option was to keep quiet, never mention it… because if he did, Tobias knew Acheflow would never relax that way around him again.

He still hadn’t convinced her that it wasn’t embarrassing to dance in your own kitchen, especially when there was nothing else better to do while stirring a soup.

Acheflow had caught herself the first time, the noise stopping immediately as her face turned red, glancing at Tobias to see if he’d heard. Coughing -an inefficient disguise- as he examined the nearest map seemed to work, especially since the habit continued.

The longer he pretended not to hear Acheflow humming, the longer she was relaxed enough to do it before she froze, stopping mid-tune to find herself work in anywhere else. Always the same song, but never finished, and nothing he could identify.

Shame. Tobias poured himself a glass of wine -not his favorite drink, but better than nothing. He heard the quiet humming from the next room, and smiled to himself as he leaned against the wall to listen without being seen. Whatever it is, it’s real nice. Wonder if I can get her to sing it one day?

#my writing #fluffcember #fluffcember 2019 #these are so much fun!#Tobias #I really need coffee now though

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foofyschmoofer · 5 years

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Fluffcember #1

“Sunrise”

It had been years since Katie had experienced a sunrise. She’d always been an early riser, even as a young child, but back then, she hadn’t appreciated the beauty of the sun, and since her teen years, she hadn’t had time to stop.

But now she had the time. She didn’t know how many mornings she might have, so she intended to take advantage of every one of them.

While Commander Shepard and the Normandy crew were heroes in the eyes of the people, particularly those who lived on the Citadel, they were little more than troublemakers in the eyes of the Council. Katie had no doubt they were plotting to get rid of her in some way very soon.

She shook her head. She couldn’t worry about that now. Now, in this moment, she had all she ever wanted: peace and quiet, a beach, Zaeed, and the rising of the sun.

#foofy writes #fluffcember 2019 #katie shepard hackett #katie/zaeed #shepard/zaeed

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elenajohansenauthor · 5 years

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#bridgesnovel update, 12/3

In the post-NaNo world, I’ve still got a novel to finish, so I’m still updating. When possible, for funsies, I’m using the “fluffcember” writing prompts.

Word Count Goal Today: 1,667 (single shift day)

Actual Word Count Today: 2,162

Total Word Count: 67,234

Today’s prompt: humming -- I had to finish the chapter I was working on and start a new one to get to a part where I could possibly have a character humming. He’s in the kitchen, happily helping a friend make pastries.

Favorite line of the day: It could not have been a more pleasant morning, and whenever his humming trailed off, it was because he was grinning so widely his lips wouldn't come together to make the sound.

Tea?: water

Candle scent: Mountain Lodge

Listening to: the “Distant Thunder” generator @ mynoise.net

#writeblr #bridgesnovel #fluffcember 2019 #daily word count

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theaestheticarmchair · 5 years

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Fluffcember Day 4: Lake/ocean

The Sleeping Prince | Book III: The Wall of Thorns

Word count: 779

Bramble decided that he didn’t like sand.

It wasn’t because it was coarse, or irritating, or too hot to stand on. In fact, he found the warmth beneath his feet comforting. He didn’t like how much sand shifted. It was there one minute, somewhere else the next. His feet sunk in too easily. It was too soft. Too pliant. Too inconsistent.

But he had to admit, the Ocean breeze lifting his hair and filling his lungs filled him with a sense of…

Familiarity.

Danae’s footfalls beside him were light, barely there. She walked tall, with purpose. In her element. In some ways, she reminded him of Asphodel. But he had made a promise to himself not to compare them, so he pushed that thought away.

“I used to come here as a kid.” Her voice broke the silence. “It wasn’t as big a tourist attraction back then. During the War.”

Bramble nodded. “Yeah. I can imagine.”

“Swimming wasn’t really an option back then, what with the tensions with the Merfolk. But…” She gazed off towards the horizon, as though lost in memory. “Sometimes, when the Sun was setting, I’d stand about ankle--deep in the water. Just… feeling the waves rush over my feet. It made me feel connected to something. Something bigger than just me.”

“That’s how I feel when I use Terrarian magic,” Bramble said. He wasn’t sure if Danae knew what it was, but when he saw her nod of understanding, he continued. “That feeling of being connected to the Earth. My m…” He cleared his throat. “A-Asphodel always said that connection was key in magic. But I always thought that it was… more than that.”

Danae nodded again, as though this made perfect sense to her. She reached up, tying her greying hair out of her face. Even in her late sixties, she had an Earthly, genuine beauty that just seemed… natural. Real.

This woman had given birth to him. This woman was his mother. One of them, anyway. It was still hard to wrap his head around.

“I think it really is more than that,” she said. “Everything in life is connected. Everything has a purpose.” A wistful expression overtook her. “Your mother was the one who taught me that. I never forgot it, even when I left.”

She didn’t say when we parted ways. She didn’t say when things ended between us. She said when I left, no sugar-coating or softening the truth. Bramble appreciated that, appreciated that she knew what she had done.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“You did leave,” he said. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that. You left me. Twice. Three times. I had to grow up without you.”

Danae pursed her lips. But she didn’t look away, meeting his gaze head-on. In the back of his mind, they realized that they were the same height.

“I know,” she said. “And I wish I hadn’t, but I know that means nothing. I can’t change the past, I can’t go back to fix the mistakes I made, and I can’t ask you to forgive me. Because that may be too much to ask for. But…” She swallowed, but didn’t look away.

“Whether you want me to be a part of your life,” she said quietly, “or if you never want to see me again, or if… you just want to talk, I’ll respect your choice. I’m not going to force myself in where I don’t belong, or where you don’t want me. It’s completely up to you.”

Bramble looked at her. Took in his mother’s face, her wild curls, little flyaways brushing her forehead. The set of her mouth. Her laugh lines, etched deep into the corners of her eyes. Her irises. Deep brown with tiny flecks of gold. Just like his.

Just like him.

His mother.

“I think,” he said hesitantly, “for now… talking. Talking is good.”

Danae nodded. “Yes,” she said, a small smile gracing her features. “Talking is good.”

They set off again, and Danae pointed out a few landmarks here and there. The hazy outline of the Geranian palace, far in the distance. The school where she had first played the guitar. Far across the water, the Lunar Temple on its island, the eight ancient towers glowing in the light of the Sun.

She offered to take him there someday. If he decided to stay awhile.

He smiled and said that yes, he would like that. Someday.

And maybe someday, the two of them would walk up to the Ocean and stand ankle-deep in the water. Just feeling the waves rush over their feet. And maybe, just maybe, they would find their own connection.

#wip: the sleeping prince #writeblr #fluffcember 2019 #fluffcember day 4 #my writing #oc: bramble #oc: danae

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sidhelives · 3 years

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2020 Fics in Review

No one tagged me, so I'm tagging myself. Tagging @hezjena2023 as well.

I wrote a bit this year. While I technically started writing in October of 2019 all of WolfHunt was rewritten and reposted in 2020. Which means everything I have written on AO3 was written in 2020. For this I'll only be using works posted on AO3 not things written which have not been posted.

Sounds good?

Good.

Overall Stats

Total Words Written: 194,992

Total fics completed: 32

Average words per month: 16,249

Average words per fic: 6,093

Ongoing Fics/Series:

WolfHunt - Dragon Age; 14 chapters/59,425 words

Pathfinder Chronicles - Mass Effect Andromeda

Relocation - 1,401 words

The Scars - 1,995 words

Ill Fortune or (The Unfortunate Birth, and Subsequent Lamentable Life of Hypetia Amell) - Dragon Age; 5 chapters/11,399 words

Ill Fortune - Supplementary Works - Dragon Age; 3 chapters/1,813 words

Listen Closely - Skyrim; 4 chapters/9,459 words

Harlequin Eyes - Dragon Age; NSFW; 5 works/12,280 words

A Chance Encounter - Kinktober; 1,715 words

A Test - Kinktober; 1,175 words

This is How it Starts - 2,830 words

The Inquisitor's Intentions - 2 chapters/4,366 words

It Seems the Game has Changed - Fluffcember; 2,538 words

Completed Fics/Series

Dance Lesson - Dragon Age; 268 words

Reunion - Mass Effect; 3,564 words

Momentary Distractions - Dragon Age; 1,458 words

A Cool Harvestmere Morning - Dragon Age; 1,180 words

Anders in Over his Head - Dragon Age; NSFW

Fraternization - 5,642 words

Party of Three - 5,153 words

Four's a Crowd - 3 chapters/7,734 words

What's in the box, Shepard? - Mass Effect; 1,987 words

Pride and Humility - Collected Solavellan Shorts - Dragon Age; 25 chapters/27,256 words

Solavellan Tarot Challenge - Dragon Age; 22 chapters/22,296 words

A Dark Ritual - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 4,472 words

A Late Night Visit - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 1,095 words

A Clever Ruse - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 1,715 words

You're Going to Love It - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,166 words

Take My Hands - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,164 words

Of Course I Remembered - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 2,019 words

Don't Look at Them. Look at Me. - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,983 words

Well Worth the Travel, and the Snow - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,558 words

This is el Aperitivo - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 883 words

Leather and Lace - Dragon Age; Gift for Jukkari; 2,036 words

Oh Good, You're Here - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 2,591 words

New things I tried this year:

Everything really. Prior to 2020 I had only written WolfHunt so new things included:

Lavellan/Blackwall

Amell/Zevran

Anders/So many damn people

Solvelyan

Femslash (just a little at the end)

Smut

I hadn't written anything explicit in 10+ years and back in the day I focused primarily on M/M. I jumped in with both feet though and people seem to like the stuff I write so huzzah.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Long Fic:

WolfHunt for sure. Almost 60,000 words is a lot of time and I kind of go cross-eyed when I think about how much is left in the story I want to tell.

Honorable mention goes to Ill Fortune, not because of how much time I spent writing but because of the time I spent plotting out the timeline. I know where Pet, Aria, and Des are basically through their entire lives.

Short Fic:

Four's a Crowd for sure. Writing two people having sex is an arduous process for me, but four?! There are so many bodies to deal with. It became super overwhelming and I could only work in it in short bursts.

Fic I spent the least time on:

Long Fic:

Pathfinder Chronicles. I got super inspired and then it just dropped away. I'd love to write more Sara! I have a lot of fun with my slowly self redeeming fuck-up, I just need to figure out how to format it and keep motivation up.

Short Fic:

Weighting length with time (so I don't just automatically say the shortest one) I'd go with A Clever Ruse. It was goofy and comical and disconnected from anything that mattered and it just moved very quickly, even accounting for the smut part slowing me down as they do.

Favorite thing I wrote this year:

Long Fic:

Listen Closely for sure. I'd never even considering writing outside my BioWare bubble when the idea occurred to me and I fell in love with the idea. Also it's incredibly fun writing crazy people.

Short Fic:

It might be cheating but Anders in Over his Head. The series reminded me how much I love Anders, and I really do, I also love writing him. Tortured male POV is kind of my jam and Anders fits there so we'll while also being a snarky ass which makes for good banter (my favorite thing to write).

Favorite thing I read this year:

Ashamedly, I don't read much. I want to get better about it in 2021 but for now I'll just list my favorite things I did read (all on AO3:

Flemeth's New Look by attack_on_feels

How Loud Your Heart Gets by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

Like Veilfire by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

That Girl Is Like A Sunburn by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

Eyes Wide Shut by queenofkadara

Fall Into The Tide by queenofkadara

I just realized those are like all porn. Oops.

I also started reading The Keening Blade by Arsinoe de Blassenville which is on fanfiction.net. It's very long so I haven't finished it but I am really enjoying.

Things I want to work on in 2021:

Finishing WolfHunt is a top priority. I don't feel like I can fully commit to another long form DA fic (like the world I'm building out in Ill Fortune and Harlequin Eyes) until I get that one done.

Expanding more into other fandoms. Mass Effect primarily but also exploring other fandoms that I have a lot of love for. Dragon Age is my wheel house: I know it well and I'm comfortable with it, so I'll never leave it behind but the fun I've had with Listen Closely has made me consider branching out.

MORE FEMSLASH. I love ladies and I love ladies loving ladies but I've barely touched f/f relationships. I am planning a Femslash February event so that will open the door.

I have a whole to do list to get to as well 😅

In Conclusion

I can't believe how much I accomplished in 2020. It feels like I've been writing for years, not just the one. I've found a community in fic writing that I never dreamed of, friends and support I never thought I would have. Most of all it makes me so happy. Writing is one of the few things I do for myself, my personal life very much revolves around other people, and knowing that other people find joy in the things I create is the best feeling in the world. So if you read my stuff, if you comment or give kudos:

Thank you.

Ma bal'venhan serannas.

#fanfiction #2020wrapup #2020 wrap up #boy that's a lot of words

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crazyprincesscatlady · 4 years

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Family Visits Part One

Fluffcember 2019 12/18/2019 Prompt 18 - Family Visits Part 1

Mr. Love Queen’s Choice - Kiro and Victor

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Everyone that had ever met her knew just how much she loved her father. To her, he had hung the moon. Everything he did was for her to keep her safe, to take care of her. She knew that. Knew how she was his pride and joy. They needed each other. Brought out the best in one another.

So when he died, she was lost. How do you wake up every morning when your sun is gone? She woke up and continued doing what she did every day. She went to school and after school, she worked under Anna.

She made it a point to visit his grave every weekend, she would update him on her week. From her tests to her crush. She made sure that no matter what was going on she had lunch with her dad. It was important.

This continued until she graduated.

Then her world caught fire. Her company was going under. She met four interesting but completely different men. Everything changed so quickly and in between saving her company, saving the world, and trying not to die she hadn’t visited the grave.

She woke up facing her nightstand, and he was there smiling back at her. His photo a constant reminder of his love. She missed that smile. Missed him.

She rolled out of bed, letting her feet hit the floor. It was Sunday. It was Sunday! She had no plans. BUT SHE HAD PLANS! It was Sunday, and she was going to see her dad.

…..

Kiro

She had texted him to meet her ad this address. He thought he trusted her enough to just show up at any address she sent him. But as the incognito blonde man walked up to a graveyard, he was slightly worried.

As he walked through the iron gate he looked around before eventually spotting her brown head slightly higher than the headstones. She was sitting in front of a stone. And as he got closer, he could hear her talking. She was talking to someone or rather something. She was talking to the headstone.

He didn’t mean to sneak up and eavesdrop, but he was curious.

“Dad, he’s so silly. You wouldn’t believe it. No matter what kind of day I am having all he has to do is hand me a piece of candy or call and I realize I’m not alone anymore.”

He smiled as he approached her, doing so a little more loudly now so as not to startle her. “He sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, he really is.” She returned his smile. “Dad, meet Kiro. He’s the one I was telling you about.”

…..

Victor

It was just like him to not let her go alone. When she called him asking if he was busy today his first reaction was to scoff, he was always busy. But there was something in her voice that made him agree right away. Not that he would have told her no he normally would have just made it a slightly bigger deal about it. She tried to give him an address but the moment she got the third number out he knew what she was doing. And he knew what this meant.

“I’ll pick you. Be ready in 20 minutes.” Then he hung up the phone. He wouldn’t give her the ability to argue.

He was slightly caught off guard when he saw her waiting outside with a picnic basket and a blanket. But she was smiling when she got in the car.

She caught him looking at the basket and in one of her more perceptive moments; she explained herself.

“He loved shared meals. He thought that they had a way of bringing people together by encouraging conversation. Even when it’s just me and dad, I bring a meal.”

“He must have been a smart man.”

“He was.” She was still smiling but he could see the sheen in her eyes. “You remind me a lot of him, you know? He was big on making me learn. Always making sure I was doing my best, making me learn on my own, but there to help me up when I fell.” She was crying now, but the smile was still there.

Victor wasn’t one to shy away from this topic he knew the pain of losing a parent. He understood this better than anyone else.

He thought back to the time he accidentally called her when he’d meant to call his mom. How she didn’t judge him but tried to give him advice. He smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

_____

So hopefully tomorrow I’ll have Gavin and Lucien finished. So there should be two posts tomorrow!

Part Two

This was written for a 31 day creative writing challenge Fluffcember 2019.

Apologies for the poor proofreading that has been going on lately. I’ll reread it in the morning and check for errors but it’s late.

Prompt List

My Master List

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siarven · 5 years

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Fluffcember #02: Flower Crown

fluffcember prompt list

WIP: Like Dragons of Old Characters: Selandri, Timbre just a (very rough) sketch thing, cause after NaNoWriMo and inktober I really, really need to paint again ( ˘ ³˘)♥

It’s very much noch finished, but yesterday I didn’t feel like writing so ... have two smol queer babbies :’3 AKA Selandri (grinning) and Timbre (shy). Timbre can only see values of black/grey/white so Selandri’s flower crown ended up being a tad more aggressively non-matching in color, which Selandri doesn’t mind at all :D

I can’t believe I haven’t written anything for them in a year aahhhhh also, one day I will finish it with proper lighting and all that, I promise

LDOO Taglist (please tell me if you want on/off) :) I will probably post a few more things for them this december, so please also tell me if you don’t want to be tagged for that <3

#fluffcember #fluffcember 2019 #ldoo #like dragons of old #i love my babies so much ;w;#also one day I will make a proper finished design for them #esp timbre's wings #anyways #hope you like :3 #i finished it yesterday but it was so late and i had to sleep #so posting got delayed XD #siarvenart #ldoo art

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tea-and-cardigans · 4 years

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‘Apricity’ - Harry x Macy - Hacy

Day Nineteen for Fluffcember 2019 (though this is decidedly unfluffy) - Apricity

Trigger Warning: Mention of miscarriage

Read on Ao3

Fic is under the cut.

Harry feels the sun hit his face, eyes closing at the brightness of it reflected against the snow. He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, worn every winter since the day he opened it, knowing that it came from her. That it was special.

He spots her on the park bench, near the lake.

He walks over, sitting down next to her.

“I thought I might find you here,” he tells her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her close. This has always been the place she comes to when something is troubling her.

In Autumn when the maple trees leaves are red and orange and she will often have a fallen leaf in her hand, her fingers tracing over the unique patterns splayed across it. Before holding it up by the stem and letting the wind catch and carry it away.

In Summer, when the grass is green and the water is clear and still. Sometimes gathering pebbles from the ground to skim across the water’s surface seeing just how many bounces are possible before the stone inevitable sinks below the surface.

In Spring, when a graceful swan ushers her babies down to the water, carefully guarding them against the world, but allowing them enough space to be independent. Children with their own mothers, laughing and playing in the new flowers that cover the ground. The joy of new life almost infectious.

And now, when the ground is covered in snow, the lake is frozen, and the wind is brutal and cold.

“I’m sorry, Macy.” He pulls her into his body and she snuggles closer, her face turning into his chest, safe from the cold as the tears start to fall.

Her hand still clutched against her stomach where a new life was growing.

A life now lost.

And as he clutches her tighter, his body absorbing the sobs as they rack through her, he focuses on the way the sun shines through the desolate branches, knowing that Autumn, Summer and eventually, Spring, will return.

#hacy #harry x macy #angst #TW:miscarriage #charmed reboot #fanfiction #harry greenwood #macy vaughn

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gestaltandmyfanwy · 4 years

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So, last time, my link didn't show up in the tags. I've heard of this working so I'm going to try linking to the link.

#flyffcember2019 #fluffcember2019 #fluffcember 2019 #no.12

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nadunacreates · 5 years

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NANOWRIMO 2019 • TOTAL ROUNDUP & STATS

•

TOTAL WORDS: 62′668 MOST WRITTEN IN ONE DAY: 7’414 (day ten, right after a write-in) LEAST WRITTEN IN ONE DAY: 21 (day twenty-nine, right before a write-in) AVERAGE WRITTEN IN ONE DAY: 2’088 (according to the nano website at least…)

•

PLAYLISTS I MADE AND LISTENED TO WHILE WRITING AND DAYDREAMING

heroes bleed red • writing mood (for general scenes, action and emotions)

heroes bleed red • bones break (supposed to be the angsty playlist for when bones and hearts break; betrayal and hurt, when trust gets broken and you’re left bleeding)

heroes bleed red • hearts heal (the one i initially started out with, but then added more and more songs that only fit for the comfort mood and not really the rest of things, so)

important to note here: i don’t really listen to music? like, i don’t hear the words and decide that yes they fit for a particular playlist, most often i have no clue what is being sung about. it’s more about the tone of voice and the atmosphere of the song? idk, i’m weird like that

•

more below, including stats and future plans

•

ABOUT THE WIP

current total word count: 62’956 characters: 350’516 pages: 220 (all these are according to scrivener) current word count goal: 180’000 current self-imposed deadline: end of april, 2020

•

RAMBLING & FUTURE PLANS

the regional write-ins in zurich, switzerland, really have been my saving grace this november. without them, i wouldn’t be nearly where i am at right now. i would have given up on this long ago, especially after i really struggled in the last week.

in the hopes of not giving up on this story the way i did with last year’s nano project i’m going to try meet up with some of the same people throughout the year and get these damn words out, keep the motivation up. i’m gonna try be more active on here as well, help us writeblrs motivate each other and maybe join a discord or two. because even though this first draft is far from ready to be read by anyone i do hope to be able to pick up on some better writing techniques along the way, sharpen my outlining (and sticking to those outlines) skills, and get comfortable in my writing again. it often felt stilted and awkward during this month, but once or twice i got into the kind of head-space that really lets the words flow and lets me actually like what i wrote, which is… something that doesn’t happen often, let me tell you.

but. despite it all and my own constant procrastination, i do not want to give up on this story. i finally want to get to the point where i can put THE END under a piece of writing and feel like i accomplished something, even if it’s just a self-indulgent story written for myself.

(and if any one of you feels like i don’t post enough content or that i’ve been absent for a while now - do feel free to come kick my butt. i’ll appreciate it. and if you’ve got any questions, feel free to ask! i’ll be happy to answer them, even if it might take a few days to get around to it, because i’m just horrible at time management and i always feel like i’m gonna say (or write) the exact wrong thing when i’m communicating with actual people on here and not just screaming into the void as i do with these kinds of roundup posts.)

some final words: THANK GOD IT’S OVER, but it was also really great? i really like nano as a way to challenge myself, and even though i haven’t interacted with as many of you guys as i wanted to, during this month, i really feel like this whole community is something i’ve really grown to like and want to take a more active part in (as soon as i manage to get off my ass and do these things, of course.)

#wip: heroes bleed red #nano 2019 #writeblr #wip progress #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2019 #i'm bad at doing these kinds of posts #i am hella proud of my overall progress though #i didn't think i'd get anywhere close to this #it definitely was a success!#and i wrote every day #now i just have to keep the habit up!#here's hoping #naduna rambles #oh and as for further future plans: i’ve discovered the fluffcember prompts yesterday #hopefully i’ll manage to fill a few of those for hbr this month #or any other fic / wip

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