#NaNoWriMo started

[rags-writes]

Ladies, gentlemen and those of non binary persuasion, I have started.

#writing #writer memes #meme #tumblr memes #writing memes #memes #writers #nano 2022 #nanowrimo #NaNoWriMo started #writing mood

[definitely-a-vampire]

Happy November 1st to all who celebrate :)

#nanowrimo #nano 2023 #amwriting #the worst man #mockingbird au #it’s been like 20 hours since NaNo started #and I’m already panicking and behind

[cuubism]

It's my favorite/least favorite writing month now, so here's an overly-ambitious list of things I would love to complete during nano :) last year I reached a true feral state of dissociated insanity by the end of November and I do hope to achieve that again!

Happenstance, final chapter. this was on my list and I just finished/posted it :) [COMPLETED]

the follow-up fic to Trade Secrets, the Knight Hob/Prince Dream PWP. more unmitigated smut in this one.

New installment of In Search of Nightingales [bookstore cryptid Dream] -- this one is about Dream moving in with Hob. [COMPLETED]

A Death/Johanna fic that was supposed to be for the femslash event but evidently... was not 😂

The sheltered rich boy Dream & feral child Hob (though it's really not much about that anymore) fic that I've occasionally posted snippets of. This one has gotten... long.

"Ooh, Kinky", a fic about how Dream really likes when Hob does sweet things for him. [COMPLETED]

a very long, post-2022 slowburn getting together fic that I literally started last fall, and has 17k words but isn't finished -- I would really like to finally finally finish that.

At LEAST one of the non-dreamling ideas people sent me way back. I have so many and I ended up writing like... none of them. Oops.

chapter 3 of the melting press of the sun, a fic that wasn't supposed to be longer than one chapter. Hob helps Dream with his post-fishbowl dissociative episodes through the power of Friendship and Really Shitty Reality Television

the Shibari fic that I teased a month ago, wrote half of in one day, and then barely touched since 😂

chapter 3 of the better to see you with, my dear [the Spy Hob AU] which I've left on the back burner for a while now.

A mostly-completed segment of Silly Rabbit AU about various tales and connections Dream is spinning.

In Waking Dreams chapter 7, which is already partially complete.

There's also one or two projects that live at kind of the intersection of fanfic and original fic that have been bouncing around my head so those may come up as well ☺️

And new as of November 1 (goddammit):

A very silly crack fic about Johanna accidentally kidnapping Dream and Hob's weird magical baby (goes about how you'd expect) [COMPLETED]

idea I got stuck in my head last night about Dream making sex Hob's reward for rescuing him as an intricate ritual to let Dream have some intimacy without having to admit that he wants it.

BONUS: prequel to dreamling's magical baby fic [COMPLETE]

BONUS: a little drabble about winter [COMPLETE]

And I've learned better than to promise progress on any outstanding Malec projects.

If any of you are also doing Nano 🫡 Godspeed.

#post that will create accountability or just jinx me #watch i won't finish any of these and will just write 10 new things instead #started nano off horribly ive been in such a weakened and sickly state nevertheless we persist #my fics #nanowrimo #spy hob #spy au #bookstore cryptid dream #in waking dreams #silly rabbit au

[cerealmonster15]

i love adeuce

#twisted wonderland #deuce spade #ace trappola #adeuce #cereal tries to draw #twst #i want to draw jack and juice too.... jack worrying about juice in this event was so sweet #and they bonded..... i love u track team #oh shit my bunny just came into the room i forgot to feed him #!!!!!!!!! #im stalling bc im scared to start nanowrimo teehee

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #27

[masterlist]

Prompt found here

Thanks @stealingyourbones and @newdog14 for the prompt!

=============‹«⟨∆⟩»›=============

"—the door will remain locked and sealed, with a small amount of anesthetic gasses pumped into the room at ten minute intervals, until either you're rescued or one of you answers my riddle! What... Does the sign at the cemetery say?" The Riddler asked through the speaker above the door.

"Do not pass."

The answer was out of his mouth barely a second after the riddle was said; though, to be fair, it was less of a riddle and more of a pun—a death pun at that, which he'd spent the majority of his teens researching and creating more of. Jazz had said it was his way of coping with his accident, and, well, she wasn't exactly wrong, okay?

Danny's stomach dropped to his knees in realization. Three simple words, spoken reflexively and without intent, had just destroyed everything. He was supposed to be keeping his head down, not drawing attention to himself, and here he was, throwing three years worth of hard work down the drain. He was screwed. Jazz was going to be so disappointed in him, he knew it.

He was starting to worry he'd been wrong, and his fellow hostages were about to see him get shot or something equally traumatizing, when the light on the lock turned green. He breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously opened the door. Riddler could usually be trusted to keep his word, but Danny wanted to be safe. He didn't want to put his faith in the man relying on a single riddle—a pun at that—for his entire plan. The universe just wasn't that kind to him. But no, there really had only been the one pun locked door between unconsciousness and freedom. Danny sighed. This just wasn't his night.

=============‹«⟨∆⟩»›=============

When Danny had finished with his report, he wasn't surprised in the least to get called to Gordon's office. He hadn't been there since he'd been offered his promotion, which he was coming to regret accepting in spite of the serious boost to his paycheck. Ever since he'd been promoted to Major Crime, he'd been having more and more run-ins with Gotham's rogues, both on and off the clock. He'd known it was only a matter of time before he caught the wrong kind of attention, the kind of attention he'd been hoping to avoid for as long as possible. He could handle rogues, he could handle some extra scrutiny from his co-workers for how often he got away from said rogues unscathed, but the Bat? He had wanted to avoid him for as long as humanly—and inhumanly—possible, but after tonight's events... Let's just say he hoped he'd be able to transfer to another city's police force once Batman was done with him.

"Nightingale, you up for some old fashioned stair climbing tonight?" Gordon may have phrased it like a question, but Danny knew it wasn't.

"Yes, sir," he replied with a sigh. Oh well, might as well get this over with. And besides, he kinda wanted to see the bat signal up close and personal before he was outed as not human.

=============‹«⟨∆⟩»›=============

On the roof of the police department, Danny glanced at Gordon before he walked over to the giant spotlight that had become so iconic. The bat symbol in the center of the unlit light provoked such a sense of relief and respect in the normal Gotham citizen when it was seen, but Danny could only see his visions for the future go up in smoke.

"I'm assuming I'm up here to meet the big guy?" Danny asked without looking back at his boss.

"He said he had some questions for you. Hope you don't mind."

He sighed but shook his head. "Not really, I actually was kind of expecting it at some point, considering my track record so far." Danny heard the soft sound of someone carefully landing on an asphalt roof and took a bracing breath.

"Daniel J Nightingale, twenty-four, from a small town in Illinois, one sister, one cousin, no parents on record. Your records are good, they nearly had us fooled, but Oracle found something you missed when falsifying them."

Danny turned to face the dark knight. He leveled the man a challenging look. "What are you going to do about it?"

The man slowly stalked toward Danny until he was within arms reach. "I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago," he said. Danny blinked and suddenly, Batman's arms were around Danny's shoulders and he was being drawn into a hug. "I'm sorry I never knew about you. I'm sorry I never looked." After a moment to process what was happening, Danny melted into the hug and returned it.

"It's okay. You couldn't have known. I forgive you, dad," he whispered through his tears. Well, that wasn't as bad as he'd feared it would be.

=============‹«⟨∆⟩»›=============

Sorry for not posting anything at all yesterday, as you may know, it was my birthday yesterday, and life got a bit hectic (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) and not in a fun way. We had some bad news come in from a family member out west, and it threw all our plans into chaos and disarray. Today was better, no bad news bombs got dropped on me today, though it was very exhausting, so I'm not sure how well this ficlet turned out, sorry (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

I'm probably going to play a bit fast and loose with my personal NaNoWriMo rules for the rest of this week, cuz I've been struggling to find prompts I'm actually interested in writing (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）hopefully I can get a few sequels or third parts out before the end of the month!

Have a good morning/day/night!

#danny phantom #batman #fanfic #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp crossover #dp au #fanfiction #nanowrimo 2022 #NaNoWriMo Day 27 #in case it isn't obvious #Danny is Bruce's kid that Bruce didn't know about until Babs started looking into Daniel J Nightingale and she found something fishy #i don't know how Gotham's police force works so i don't know how accurate this was which probably doesn't matter in the first place... #sorry i'm rambling #I'm half asleep right now heh

[propertyofkylar]

do you think you'd be able to initiate an encounter with kylar during class?? like, maybe you're feeling extra frisky and you place a hand on his thigh. i like to think that kylar gets so comfortable with your touches that he just melts into them and keeps on drawing/writing poetry about the two of you. then your hand slides down to his inner thigh and oopsies you're giving kylar a handjob in class and he's itching to return the favour as soon as he cums all over your hand. immediately gets hard again when you lick your hand clean.

you have NO IDEA how bad i want this to be a thing. kylar just being happy that you’re touching him but once you put your hand there he’s turning bright red and biting the palm of his hand to keep from crying out.

ah fuck it. we’re turning this into a fic

no cw in this one ^^

English class was particularly boring today, and you tuned out the droning lecture in favor of thinking about what you were going to get up to after school. Yesterday you had spent the afternoon in Kylar’s bedroom, and the memory of it had you shifting in your chair.

Your distraction was itself distracted by the soft sound of pencil on paper coming from next to you. You turned to Kylar, whose head was bent over his sketchbook, drawing what appeared to be a picture of you. Your thoughts were confirmed when he looked up to reference your position and he met your eyes, sheepishly looking away.

His shy embarrassment brought a smile to your face and you ever so gently scooched your chair closer to him, placing a hand on his thigh. His head whipped to face yours again, a wide grin breaking out. A faint hint of blush stayed on his cheeks as he went back to his drawing.

You smirked. This would be too easy.

You slid your hand up his thigh until it rested on his crotch and you heard Kylar’s breath hitch. His eyes silently pleaded with yours and all you could do was hold a finger to your lips.

Eyes scanning the room, you ensured the coast was clear before unzipping his pants and pulling out his already-hard cock.

Kylar let out a quiet whimper as you gave an experimental stroke and you giggled in response.

Your hand started moving faster and Kylar was breathing heavily, eyes glued to the top of his desk. One hand clutched his thigh and the other he was biting down on hard.

You sped up your hand even more and focused your eyes towards the front of the classroom until you heard a strangled noise beside you. “I-I-” Kylar muttered before spurting all over your hand.

You tucked his cock back into his pants before drawing your hand back. Looking him directly in the eye, you licked his cum off your fingers until they were spotless.

Kylar’s eyes were wide as he watched your tongue intently. He swallowed hard and squirmed in his seat before reaching towards you.

But you stilled his hands and shook your head, pointing to the front of the class. There was only so much you could get away with. He pouted, but leaned back in his chair anyway.

Class was soon over, though, and the moment it was Kylar grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you out of the room and into the nearest storage closet. Almost immediately, he was on his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he looked up at you adoringly.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” he mumbled, before diving in.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #kylar the loner #dol kylar #writing #this was fun!!! thank u #tomorrow starts nanowrimo here’s hoping i still have time to write my silly dol fics

[gracebriarwoodwrites]

I decided I was going to attempt NaNoWriMo this year and didn't pick the WIP I actually wanted to work on until TODAY

and it's the darkest thing I've ever tried to write. It's the one that wants to be written, though, so I'm going for it. I'll drop a bit more information about it later, but I just wanted to make my intentions known!

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #venetta's mirror #working title #it was gonna be a different title and then i started typing it in and a tag for an already existing book popped up so i changed it

[deadpanwalking]

In your opinion is there still space for new authors (that don’t write YA) in the publishing industry?

I'm guessing you mean the traditional publishing industry. I’d be a hypocrite if I told you to burn down the Big Five publishing houses that take up space in your head, but you gotta understand that in addition to the shit that’s always been wrong, there’s a now a huge labor issue on account of the buyouts and layoffs last year, not to mention that the recent layoffs in the journalism industry = less book coverage = less publicity = fewer sales = more layoffs of editorial staff.  The chances of you getting a fair shake with that crowd any time soon are not great. Mind you, this is provided you’ve already locked down a literary agent who either likes your shit or thinks it will sell (birth of first child<the purple 😎 on QueryTracker when you get Offered Representation).  In any case, if you’re pitching literary fiction, get acquainted with reputable small presses, micro-presses, and indie publishers—some take unsolicited manuscripts if you aren't repped.

#every literary agent i know has SUCH a fucking backlog of queries because of the editorial layoffs at the publishing houses #since the publisher doesn't want to pay editors to futz with manuscripts the agents have to pitch shit that's basically ready to go #there's this idea that you can write a novel on a bunch of napkins and if it's worthwhile someone will spruce it up so it's fit to print #but now agents gotta be very fucking picky and they aren't going to pick the Great American Napkin #seriously please stop querying your unreadable typo-infested nanowrimo unabomber manifestos...my friends are dying #anonymous #assbox #one thing i'm seeing more of is writers who started out small press/indie publishers getting contracts with the big boys #so that's another way to skin the proverbial cat

[shirozora-draws]

... so anyway, I'm a lying liar who lies about not drawing for the rest of the month. If I say I'm gonna "doodle something real quick and then write", grab my access to Clip Studio Paint and all my tablets, and run.

One is a sketch/color test based on a scene in the staircase fic and inspired heavily by Eyvind Earle's work for Disney's Sleeping Beauty. The other is me feeling a bit spicy and also letting my brain build up on a sliver of an idea. But it's mostly me feeling a little bit spicy, as a treat.

#shirozora draws #dinluke #lukedin #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #the truth is I wanted to test CSP's companion mode where I scan in a QR code to turn my phone into an extension #I kept losing connection to the test failed hard... and then I didn't stop drawing #I actually have multiple sketches but we only need to worry about these two #anyway we are really seriously done doodling #I have a goddamn fic to finish writing before NaNoWriMo starts #which I'm using to finish writing Part 1 of the 3quelfic #so that maybe after my december disneyland trip I can start posting the 3quelfic? maybe????? #sorry print shop project but you are postponed until I'm back on schedule with all these goddamn words

[raevenlywrites]

NaNoWriMo Day 1

Aiden gestured to the blade protruding from his chest. “As you can see,” he said with a sort of “viola” motion, “I seem to be bad at dying. Hence…” He gestured to the pile of bodies around him.

Shadriel was unimpressed.

“I still fail to see your point,” the demon said flatly.

Aiden pulled the blade out and offered it back to the demon’s guard. The griffin took it with an unhappy sound and began dutifully cleaning it. Aiden sat down and waited for his wound to heal.

“You’re a demon,” he said bluntly. Shadriel made an equally blunt noise back, unimpressed. Aiden took of his shirt before the wound could close around the fabric. “Physicality is your specialty. I want you to fix whatever’s broken in me.”

“Whatever is broken in you,” Shad said, “is a myriad and many, and probably better suited to an Anima or Mente. You’re a serial killer.”

Aiden shrugged. “I’m seeking Death. One particular death. He keep eluding me.”

Shadriel gave an arch look that said “so I see” and “that’s fairly obvious” and “I still think you’re nucking futs.” Shadriel could say a lot with just looks.

Aiden returned a look that said nothing but held ages, too many lifetimes spent wandering, searching. Alone. Shad sighed.

“Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea and we’ll talk – assuming your innards are healed enough to hold it.”

#off to a great start lol #my writing #nanowrimo #raev writes

[anderstrevelyan]

This fic is going to be the death of me, by the way

#my writing #valas devir #enver gortash #durgetash #not even bothering to post this as a wip properly I'm just ljsdflksdf #mini nanowrimo's going great actually #I started this on tuesday and it might become a fully formed one-shot in less than a week?

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

this is your reminder to stand up, walk around a bit, stretch out your neck, and refill your water/tea/whatever <3

#currently writing two essays and doing two projects before nanowrimo starts tomorrow

[albatris]

nanowrimo day 20 update.... whuh

I'm so sleepy I barely know what day it is lmao

today's word count is 38,468!

today I fumble with my plot and get mad at it....... but then! I had a delicious conversation with lilah and ended up finding a delightful new red herring for nat's mystery..... :3c it'll mean a bit of rewriting and reworking but that's okay, it'll make the story much stronger and I'm really excited about it

today's excerpt is

today's mood is quiche, but only because it's better than the alternative, and today's jam is "hey, runner!" by the arcadian wild 'cause it's stuck in my head

#nanowrimo #a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #quesadilla telepathy aka nat and alex drink each other's blood and then later alex is thinking abt #quesadillas and nat immediately starts making quesadillas and alex is like oh man are you making quesadillas and nat is like #yeah they're for you because you want some and alex is like yeah and nat is like yeah and then they're both like wait #quesadilla telepathy! #then later alex proceeds to have the hangover of a lifetime #(from Nat's fucked up blood not the quesadillas)

[distressednoise]

Cassian necked five pints at the airport and spent most of the flight asleep under Brasso’s coat. Brasso has no real memory of him moving, but when he reclaimed his jacket it was loaded with trolley-sized bottles of JD, and now it clinks tellingly as Brasso makes his way through the resort’s cramped corner shop.

The owner squints at him from the far side of the international crisp aisle, and Brasso wants to say I’m not your problem here, but that wouldn’t be strictly true. Brasso has been part of the problem since he was twenty three and didn’t dob Cassian in for stealing from his young offenders’ apprenticeship. Since then they’ve been two halves of the same crime: the guilty party (outside, smoking, getting sworn at in Catalan by 12 year olds) and the one responsible (inside, clinking, making a resigned, supervisory face at the cashier).

When he pays up the cashier peers judgementally into his basket, as if 90% of his clientele aren't after the same combination of Pot Noodle, cans and overpriced factor 10. Brasso's about to make a joke out of it when he says, "You need to get him to stop that," with a nod toward the door, and Brasso turns to see Cassian has negotiated a truce with the children by handing out the last of their cigarettes.

"We're down by the beach," Brasso promises. "We won't be around much." Those are both lies, but he can keep Cassian out of view, probably. Stash him between the novelty beach towels and racks of glittery jelly shoes and hope his hideous fucking patterned shirt blends in. The only reason Brasso hasn't been ripping him about it constantly since they set off is that it's so awful he suspects it was Clem's.

He gets forty Richmond just to make the cashier glare and heads outside to discover what sort of trouble has coalesced around Cassian in his absence, only to find that the children have been dismissed and Cassian is staring at him, face hard, nails newly bitten. "You've brought us to the shitty island," he accuses, as if he thought they were going to Ibiza. He'd actually been uncharacteristically passive while Brasso threw this whole thing together, so maybe he did.

"We're on the Pegla's-nan's-free-apartment island," Brasso corrects him. "Sorry it's not ideal for a rager."

"I know you're decrepit - " Brasso is twenty nine, thank you "but not all of us have given up on life."

"You said you needed to lie low."

"That doesn't mean be bored."

"What did you think it meant?"

"I - " Cassian flounders. "I just didn't expect to be here."

"Cos you didn't fucking help," Brasso points out, but he doesn't add that Cassian brought this on himself in the first place, and in return Cassian takes one of the creaking carrier bags for the schlep up the hill.

"Pegla likes you better."

That's true, Brasso thinks, but people tend to like doing things for Cassian more. He's fun to indulge: wide-eyed enough that you feel good about helping him, shifty enough that you feel rebellious doing it. He could have found himself a bolt hole easily. There's no real reason for Brasso to be here at all. Well, no - to stop Cassian drinking alone and making another set of terrible friends, maybe. To stop Cassian filling the flat with anyone else.

The flat, when they find it, is wedged in the middle floor of a relative high rise, four white-and-terracotta rooms groaning under the weight of Pegla's nan's knicknack collection. There's not a single surface that isn't occupied by a doily or a commemorative plate or one of a seemingly endless set of pink clam shell ashtrays; the clock and the fruitbowl and the light fitting are all bakelite relics from the days when the only good household fixture was one that looked like an exotic, sunbursting weapon; every dish in the kitchen is smoked glass; every furniture that can be nested, nests.

"That's 'your place or mine?' answered, then," Brasso says, dumping his suitcase in a bedroom largely given over by a set of ragdoll donkeys in the costumes of the world.

"Girls will love this," Cassian shouts from the kitchen. "We bring them here. We give them some sangria. We give them tea from a clock and… whatever this is -"

"It's for oranges." Brasso's nan had one. Had the clock, too, and a similar rug. The whole place feels like it should smell of tinned potatoes and death.

"- oranges, on a plate with the queen's face. They'll love that. We take them out on the balcony - "

"Are you sure you've done this before?"

"Trust me, we go out onto the balcony -"

"We go over to the hotel," Brasso says, "and we pretend we're part of the all-in, and then we have sex in the pool like normal people."

"We're lying low."

"Not this low, I'll have nightmares." The donkeys have multiplied since he came in. "Come on."

"I don't want attention."

"That's a fucking lie."

"You're not supposed to encourage me," Cassian complains. He's right, but fuck it - Brasso's on holiday too.

#this year i am doing a version of nanowrimo called Just Fucking Write Something #where i Just Fucking Write Something every day for 30 days #and am not allowed to shame delete it #and then hopefully then my brain will start being creative again #this is super rough and only getting posted for accountability reasons #pretend you do not see it #cassian is a terrible tourist in every reality #brassian magaluf au

[iamthecomet]

FUCKING DONE

#finally #I can stop thinking about this project constantly #and start thinking about GHOULS again #nanowrimo #there was never a doubt that I'd do it #just a doubt that I'd come out of November still mostly sane #I can be human again now!

[the-world-annealing]

Genesis 2

And God said: "Have you eaten of the tree which I commanded you not to eat?"

And Adam said: "Yes. Should I have known, then, not to eat of it?"

And God said: "Yes, for I have commanded you so."

And Adam said: "And was that command like one given to a dog or wild beast, intended to compel with tone and fury alone?"

And God said: "No, it was my word, spoken for you to understand." And God spoke true, for Adam had understood the command.

And Adam said:

"When I ate of the tree, I knew that to do so was evil. And thus I already knew what it meant for a thing to be evil, and knew of the existence of evil. I knew that to do evil things was called sin, and that sinning would displease You, who I love. I knew that some sin would cause death, which I too understand, and which I fear.

And I knew that I did not know all sin, that there existed evil I understood not, for I could name only a single sin, and I suspected there to be many, as I now know to be true. I knew not whether I might unknowingly sin and die, or whether I might have sinned already.

And most of all, I knew there was a thing called good, which was of the same kind as evil, for knowledge of them grows on the same tree, though I knew not how they differed. And neither did I know which things were good.

So during my days in the garden, it hurt me greatly to not know these things, and to not know whether my actions might be evil. And during my nights, I would lie awake, and mutter of good and evil to myself, but knew that my words were empty and void of meaning, which caused me great pain.

And when I walked through the garden, I would ever find my path taking me to the tree, which ever bore fruit. And day after day after day did I so live, pained by doubt and fear, yet obedient still. And only when the serpent spoke did my resolve falter, and did I take what I knew should not have been taken.

But now I know which things are good and which are evil. I know which deeds will displease you and which please you. I know now to worship no graven image and to bear no false witness. I know now to rest on each seventh day and to cover my nakedness. All these things and many more I now know, and forevermore I shall live by them.

I bow down before you, now able to vow to never sin again.

Hallelujah."

There was a moment of silence.

And then god said: "Cursed is the ground because of you".

#writing #religion #that's not a typo #we are not doing nanowrimo but i sure can use it as an excuse to start writing again