If ghosts actually exist, there have to be some pretty specific requirements. And it absolutely cannot be suffering.
If that was the only requirement, any place that had slaves, torture camps, or other places of absolute misery would be filled to the brim with ghosts.
Keep this in mind when you’re writing your stories.
When Dawn Arrives - Chapter 1: The day you disappeared
Hiii!!!! I finally uploaded the first chapter of my doomed story lol
Hope you like it :D
I literally started writing unwieldly long run-on sentences like my fics are being supervised by Charles Dickinson’s ghost, on purpose, because people will not stop about em-dash discourse. My highschool English teachers are undoubtedly weeping for their having rulered me into writing proper sentences at shorter lengths with which to let readers breathe and I have returned to the practice of not allowing readers to have even so much as the thought of breath until my own thought has worn itself thin and come to its own meandering end with a full entire paragraph’s length between it and the beginning. Reject the polish of modern publishing’s formatting preferences. Embrace the inner truth of allowing the narrative to wind on ceaselessly and uselessly for the sake of allowing it to wind on and on for as long as is needed to make the point that needs to be made.
Realizing the very active process within rest: integrating all the work I’ve done.
It started with exercising and realizing the rest between reps is doing something, telling me brain how to turn on and off the muscle, integrating new strength and possibilities into the muscle too, and integrating new knowledge of what my body can do, what’s no longer impossible.
It’s happening with my brain too. I double checked and rewrote outlines for 9 novels and almost fried my brain over it. (Many are not perfect, but hey, maybe that allows the first drafting to stumble on some surprises.)
Today is my day of rest, and I get to sit in blissful silence in my brain (since it’s exhausted). I get to realize I can do this, I can write books again. I’m not overly distracted, I’ve found time in my day, my brain is working well, not too foggy. My new reality: I can do this, it’s possible to write a whole book, step by step.
today’s writing is based on a prompt (“first time trying something new”) and this other story I wrote a while ago: witch prompt
☘︎·༻☘︎༺·☽·༻☘︎༺·☘︎
It was Frances’s first time gathering herbs and berries for Hilda. It hadn’t been a great day for Frances. She still had tears in her eyes and a sore throat from crying and a weight on her chest and her legs were tired as if she had been walking for days on end. It made it difficult to keep up with Hilda as they walked through the forest. It was a weird early-autumn day, not cold but with a cool breeze coming every now and then, and the sky was grey but not fully covered, and the sun rays sneaked in between little openings in the clouds.
“Frances, come look at this plant. What do you think this is” said Hilda, approaching some sort of vine-like plant with star-shaped leaves and round dark blue fruit.
Frances followed her and examined the plant. “I don’t know. Are they grapes? They look a bit weird though. Like a different variety of grapes?”
“That’s good, Frances. They resemble grapes, certainly, but they are not grapes at all. This is moonseed, and it’s poisonous. You probably have noticed that the leaves are different. Moonseed leaves are smooth and glossy and, as you already know, grapevine leaves are rough and toothed. If you open the moonseed fruit, you will see moon-shaped seeds, hence the name.”
Frances let out a soft chuckle, almost only a sigh. “I guess that makes sense. But you have to be very careful, right? Are there other plants that are difficult to distinguish from poisonous plants?”
“Oh, plenty of them! I will show you a couple more while we gather some things I need. Then I’ll show you a book I have at home. I has illustrations and explanations on how to identify each plant. I think you will like it.”
Frances and Hilda continued walking through the forest almost until midday. The clouds were beginning to clear and some pieces of clear-blue sky appeared every now and then. They got back to Hilda’s house and started organising everything into their corresponding containers in the pantry. When they were done, Frances knew she had to go back to the village, but she felt like she needed to talk to Hilda before she left.
“Hilda, I’m sorry I cried.”
“My sweet girl, don’t apologise for that. I’ve cried plenty of times in my life, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Frances had never seen Hilda cry. She was such a strong cool-headed woman it was difficult to imagine her crying. And Frances knew that if she ever had to see her cry it would break her heart.
“Does it ever go away, Hilda? Does it get better?”
Hilda sighed and grabbed Frances’s hands. “It does get better, my child. Of course it does.” She paused and looked at Frances, holding her hands tighter. “And even when the pain doesn’t completely go away, it will not paralyse you. You will go on, and things will be okay, everything will fall into place.”
3 followers away from 3k guys!! this is so exciting oh my god. i’ve had a celebration post since my 2k but i never posted it lmfao… would you guys be interested if i posted it for the 3000? do something simple but nice? like just blurbs, some asks headcanons…
It’s currently 15 minutes into the day and I can’t sleep so I thought I’d post this early. This is an exerpt from chapter one of my Lokius yacht fic, in which Loki and Mobius have to stop yet another threat to the multiverse, post-season 2. It’s an au where Loki never became a tree and continues to work at the TVA.
Mobius barked a laugh. “Things start to get really cheap around this decade. I guess that goes for everyone, huh? Oh, there’s one of those tablets on the nightstand. How much you wanna bet these light bulbs change color?”
“I do not waste money on such foolish behavior.”
“You’re ruining my vibe, Mr. No Fun… as the kids would say.” Mobius picked up the tablet and played with it for a moment. “How about this?”
The light bulbs above the bed slowly faded from an off-white to a vibrant green.
Loki winced at the harsh color invading his eyes. “Light is not supposed to be green, Mobius.”
“Aw, but you like green! What about this one?”
A deep red engulfed the room. “No, that’s too romantic…” Mobius pressed another button and the bulbs returned to their normal color. “Okay, no more of that. It hurts my head.”
[[MORE]]Loki tried to ignore the burning behind his cheeks. It did not help that Mobius was gawking at him wide-eyed like a goddamned owl. “What? You’re staring.”
No tags because I forgot who all my writer mutuals are uhhhmmm
the lovely and talented @a-cosmic-elf tagged me in this game, thank you! This looks like a fun exercise. Also this is going to be quite a list because I have *goes to check ao3* 30 works…and if we include WIPS….you know what I’m not going to include WIPS because otherwise we’ll be here all Gods-damned night!
If any of these pique you interest, feel free to message and ask questions or hop over to my ao3.
—
Dragon Age
Alistair and Loghain talk
Fallout 4
General faces her past
2. A Woman Out of Time
Game Opening with a twist
3. Testing out the Shower
Bathroom reno and sex
4. Cold Heart Thaws
What is this feeling?
5. Loud Confessions
Stubborn fools talk
Warhammer 40K: Rogue Trader (video game)
Get loved, nerd Lord Captain
Starfield
Found Family FTW
2. Work-Life Balance
Crimson Fleet implodes with style
3. Rekindling the Heart
Sam gets a second chance
4. Unique Cargo
Starborn!Sam adopts another kid
5. Wanted to Say ‘Thank You’
said with actions; horny
6. Siren of the Stars
'Breaking the Bank’ with Spice
7. The Navigation Table
Table sex
8. Reclaiming Home
Well that escalated quickly
9. The Ranger and the Deputy
What if Delgado was cop?
10. Shrouded Certainty
Deal with the Devil
11. Stowaway Savior
best worst luck
honorable mention: robots steal the show
12. Death of Peace of Mind
Rokov gets his man ;)
13. It’s the Thought That Counts
Doc breaks down
14. Onwards and Upwards
Frost takes artifacts and dips
15. Hoist the Colors
Bayu goes for a swim
16. Unmistaken Identity
right place, wrong time
17. Hope Falls
Fox aims for the face
18. Follow Me Deeper Into the Unknown
Wanted dead or alive
19. I’m Your Huckleberry
sometimes family sucks
20. All Must Serve
Cora saves the universe
21. Fresh Pain from Old Wounds
Unmistaken Identity, part deux
22. Sic Semper Tyrannis
What the Hell happened here?
23. Hunting a Hart
Lillian crosses a line
—
that was hard. But also fun!
No pressure tags for @acealistair, @silent-moons-camp, @therealgchu, @aro-pancake, and @aislingdmdt
With the premiere of Amazon Prime’s Invincible Season 4, the following weeks’ moods will be primarily focused on…well…
I saw this going around. Looks like fun.
1) What We Leave Behind
Stupidly jumped universes for you
2) The Darkest Heart
Hunter falls for cute vampire
3) Depths of the Soul
Tentacle kink went too far
4) Corda-Capta
Gay crush wins the presidency
5) In Silent Orbit
Captain’s drunken kiss goes viral
6) The Hollowed
Hot wraith stole my soul
7) Encounters With Archangel
Vigilante hurt/comfort rooftop sex
8) The End of It All
Pissed off my gf died
9) No Data Available
He lied and it’s kinky
10) Friends With Large and Multiple Benefits
The fuck did I write?
11) The Dark Sentinel
5% of total word count
12) The Sundering
Childhood crush becomes the antipope
13) Goodbye, My Heart
There’s only one hot alien
14) Mass Effect: Absolution
OC crew fills plot holes
If any should pique your interest, feel free to ask. That was so much fun. I really needed that 😂
No pressure tags: @atonalginger @falco-underscore-77 @lilulicious @eridanidreams and an open tag for anyone who’d like to join in 💫
What writing is to me..
Most of the time: Thinking about writing. And internally beating myself up for not writing.
Once in a while: Coming up with a sentence or two. Editing a few things.
Once in a blue moon: Writing a thousand words in one go. Actually finishing editing my work.
my phones at 4%, im not dressed, my watch is dead, i have no idea where my headphones are, i still have to smoke, and run to the jewel, and pick up the mail, and i have to be at work in less than an hour – but i updated GUTS so everything is ok <3
But actually: I love intuiting stories. It’s makes every story a mystery story. No one knows what’s going to happen. Not even me!
Prologue
The storm Cecilia had been raging for hours over San Francisco and its outskirts. Torrents of rain lashed against the thick glass windows of storefronts while violent gusts of wind tested the strength of the few public installations still standing. It was already the fifth storm in just a few weeks, and according to meteorologists, the coming of winter would only make matters worse. Forecasts predicted that Cecilia would reach its peak during the night, with wind gusts exceeding 190 kilometers per hour. Authorities had strongly advised against any nighttime travel.
But for some, such warnings meant very little.
Among them was the Vallima family—one of the oldest and most influential names in San Francisco.
For centuries, the Vallimas had been deeply connected to the city. Their import-export empire, one of the most prosperous on the West Coast, granted them considerable influence within political, economic, and social circles. Whenever charity galas, auctions, or public donations were mentioned, the Vallima name inevitably followed. Libraries, community centers, and foundations across the region bore their name. Their fame rivaled that of the city’s most prominent social media celebrities.
Yet behind this benevolent image lingered persistent criminal suspicions.
As far back as investigators could trace, the family’s questionable activities were anything but recent. Police archives contained countless reports implicating the Vallimas, some dating back to the early twentieth century, just before the First World War. Over the generations, more than three hundred complaints had been filed against them. Not a single one had ever reached trial. Even more suspiciously, none had ever leaked to the press, leaving their pristine public reputation untouched.
To law enforcement, however, the Vallimas were something entirely different: a criminal organization of extraordinary skill, hiding their darker dealings behind the façade of a charitable foundation. Their methods of concealment, combined with the absolute loyalty of their members, made them virtually untouchable.
In the end, nothing seemed capable of reaching them.
Not justice.
And certainly not time.
The Vallimas lived in their imposing family manor, hidden deep within a dense forest south of the city. Its dark stone walls blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding vegetation, as if the structure had grown from the forest itself. Tall wooden-framed windows allowed a dim light to escape, reinforcing the aura of mystery that surrounded the estate. The massive building rose proudly over several floors, isolated from the outside world.
It was here that the Vallimas could preserve the anonymity of their children—and manage their affairs in perfect secrecy.
Most of their time, Mr. and Mrs. Vallima were away working, leaving their two daughters in the experienced care of their governess.
The youngest, Emmy, had just celebrated her second birthday. Despite her age, she no longer asked for her parents—even as illness slowly consumed her fragile body. Emmy suffered from severe anemia, a disease affecting her red blood cells. Yet despite the condition gradually stealing her childhood, her parents had never shown the slightest concern. They never accompanied her to the hospital or attended her treatments, and they never once asked about her health.
Fortunately, Emmy was not alone.
Her older sister Hedda, who was about to turn ten, had quickly become her protector. Hedda cared for her little sister with remarkable devotion and maturity. After school, she went straight home to play with her, monitor her treatments, and make sure she lacked nothing. Whenever nurses came to check on Emmy, Hedda remained quietly in the corner, studying their movements so she could learn how to repeat them herself.
Anything Emmy needed, Hedda made sure she had it.
Why?
Because from the moment her sister was born, Hedda had already understood something.
Their parents would never care.
The Vallimas did pay attention to Hedda—but not in the way a child would wish.
Though she had inherited her parents’ striking appearance—her father’s silver hair and metallic eyes, along with her mother’s tall, slender silhouette—their gaze toward her had never contained affection. On the rare occasions they were home, they observed her with unsettling intensity, analyzing every movement, listening to every word she spoke, correcting even the smallest mistakes.
It took Hedda years to understand their behavior.
Eventually, she realized their coldness was not awkwardness.
It was cruelty.
And manipulation.
Every time they looked at her, she felt a mixture of distrust and disgust. Why did they watch her so closely? Hedda did not know the answer, but she sensed that discovering the truth could place her in danger.
Now, when she looked at them, she saw only cruelty behind their smiles.
And yet, the disgust she felt each time her mother’s eyes rested on her—or the instinctive repulsion she felt toward her father—pushed her to search deeper.
Unfortunately, the young girl had no way of knowing that the day she uncovered the truth would mark the beginning of a new chapter in her life.
One that would transform her into something she could never have imagined.
Something she would come to hate.
© 2026 – Written by @alizea.ecrits on Instagram
All rights reserved.
