#and now so much plot is occurring AND [REDACTED] APPEARED FOR SOME REASON? HELLO??? I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

real-fakedoors · 5 years

Note

You must have gotten this question a lot but... how did you get the idea for star-crossed? And how’d you develop the world? I was really inspired by how you detailed your story to create such an amazing image for us readers of the world; especially when it got down to politics, the watches, characterizations and the planets-turned-countries. I’m currently writing (or trying to write) a book of my own, and I’ve been struggling with how to incorporate those kind of details. Do you have any advice?

hello & thank you for the ask! what a wonderful question, and an even more glowing compliment!! my heart is so full :,)

it’s a mixture of a few things, and I’m happy to break it down further if you’d like, but allow me to lay out my basic approach to writing in general & this fic specifically. I’ll try to address each question the best I can!

1. Ideas born from ideas

Music - I’m one of those people who draw on other sources of inspiration – especially music. All three of my most popular stories were at least first thought of by songs. (star-crossed was inspired by Constellations by The Oh Hellos).

Reference material/research - I’ve tried to be as explicit as possible in star-crossed when I describe/utilize the design of another creator for the basis of my work (like all of Lance’s pretty outfits), but in general, having reference material is the MOST IMPORTANT thing. I’ve done a ton of research on medieval culture, cuisine, buildings, and courts. A good example of this is from Chapter 16: The Prisoner’s Dilemma, I had no freakin’ idea how to describe a battlement, or what that even was – hence me googling “what is the top of a castle wall called” > they’re called battlements, got it! > google image, battelments

There, I found this:

and from that, I wrote this:

Quietly, they climbed until the highest reaches opened around them, a large plane of dark stone, stained by ombre rust to near-black on opposing ends of the terrace. A very small amount of snow had gathered, but most of it had blown away in the wind – some small catches had gathered in pockets of shade, where the perimeter wall was buttressed by columns of scaffolding that each came to a point. They were massive structures, like stone arrows pointing towards the heavens; vaguely, Lance remembered one of his mother’s stories about a fletcher’s workshop for the gods; the sweep magnificence of the architecture, certainly lent itself to a sense of the divine and otherworldly greatness.

Linear plot - In terms of figuring out what I want to accomplish in the story, and in the chapters, I quite literally depend on my notes. I tend to get over-eager and want to do a lot in one chapter, so I force myself to map things out in accordance to time rather than events, and that helps me maintain something of a regular pace.

There are a few things I knew I had to have happen in the story, and some of it filled in naturally as I began writing. Here’s a picture of my office from the week I began writing star-crossed.

(the text on the sticky notes doesn’t really matter; but pink are plot points and yellow are narrative themes)

If you squint – an example – Tuesday was supposed to be the day of the bombing, originally. All of the tension and build up and worries about the murder plot were never actually going to happen, as it was going to be wrong-place/wrong-time as a bomb went off in the city. Lance was always intended to get caught up in it instead of Keith as the target, but that obviously didn’t end up happening.

Why? As I wrote the beginning chapters, I had to remind myself that Keith is the Prince of Marmora, of which their expertise is spy networks and information. It didn’t seem feasible to me that such a large scale attack could occur in Marmora without the Blade knowing about it, which is why the attention ended up shifting towards the ball specifically.

Prompts - I am also of the belief that there is no reason to reinvent the wheel. There are wonderful, wonderful authors and writers out there who generate material specifically designed to help writers kickstart ideas; I collected a huge Google Doc of these when I first started star-crossed just to keep my head in accordance with the right themes. Rarely do I use a prompt word-for-word because they never really fit exactly what I’m writing, but the tone of the language often helps me in moments when I’m stuck. Here’s a sampling (and I am sorry, I didn’t think to mark the original blogs I took these from:

“The world was in flames. People were in need of laughter.”

“The world was in flames” helped me to derive some of the terrible disaster that came on the third night of the ball. I just really like that visual, so much orange and red light, and the unbearable heat.

“You can feel the world blooming and withering around you while you’re in prison.”

This sort of… live-and-die, questioning mortality thing, while in “prison” helped me to build Lance’s internal monologue while he was in the cellar.

“If I ignored destiny, so can you.”

Because Klance.

“I was waiting for a chance to ask you to dance with me, but you were gone.”

A knife-twist of how, though this was loosely inspired by the premise of Cinderella, Keith only got to ask Lance to dance twice over the course of three days – in part because Lance was always gone or with someone else, but also because Keith was equally tied up in the expectation that he was to dance with anyone who asked him.

The watches - That was my hope of tying in the paladin’s bayard. It was theoretically impossible to have a magical weapon appear in the hands of four teenagers and an adult without it raising many conspicuous questions, so I needed something a little more subtle. There’s still some… [redacted] about time that has to [redacted] before [redacted] can [redacted], so I can’t say much more than that. :,)

Pomp, Circumstance & Politics (oh my!) - okay, sorry, I couldn’t resist. heh. but, yeah, I don’t know if I can point to one specific thing in particular that gave rise to the political quagmire of this story. It’s definitely been inspired by an array of existing media – Downton Abbey certainly helped shape the “upper class” vs. “lower class” treatment. I also really enjoy historical readings. fiction or nonfiction, pertaining to wars: Ken Burn’s Vietnam War, for instance, helped remind me of the massive impact the decisions of few can have on the many. Whether or not you support a war, or a policy in Marmora’s case, can have devastating after-effects for the people beneath you. Keith and Krolia happen to be very conscious of this. But even so, there will always be a level of detachment from their view of the “many” (in which Lance, Hunk and Pidge fall), and this is never so apparent as when things are told from Lance’s POV. He’s just another person. He’s just one person. One of the hundred of thousands that would be effected by the daily decisions of Keith or Krolia, and it is that constant tension between “big picture” and “small picture” that I try to draw out in the on-going struggles had by the characters.

2. For me, the character’s are the world.

That’s not me being poetic or anything – let me explain.

Imagine this: Suppose there is a person who has been devoid of all of their senses, all of their life – no touch, no smell, no hearing – nothing. Then suppose, one day, they are shaken from this catatonic state for the first time. Their senses now free, how would they experience this scene I am writing? What is so prevailing to the senses that it demands to be included in the narrative?

That is how I write my my worlds, at least descriptively. I try to pick out a few key things someone wouldn’t be able to help but notice.

This is great for characterization, too, because I can tweak the premise of the “feelingless individual” to suit how I imagine my characters.

Keith, for example, from star-crossed – a few things I keep in mind when writing him: he is constantly frustrated by his inability to act on his impulses, so when he does it is extra satisfying. He’s keenly aware of the mannerism of others because of his upbringing in the court – if they have a weapon on their hip, for instance, is something he would notice in a heartbeat.

There were certain ticks to look for in a person trying to get too close: the ways their eyes moved, where their hands sat, what sort of clothing they wore. Was it something trim and fitted to make for an easy escape, or something bulky with a dozen pockets to hide any manner of weapon? Were those chemical burns on their hands from working with unstable materials? Did they look restless, liked they’d been up all night debating with themselves to go through with such a monumental act?

Maybe it was just learned paranoia, but these were the small enough traits that most people wouldn’t notice.

Keith, however, was trained to notice.

Lance, on the other hand, is a little more indulgent but easily overwhelmed; he has been restricted his whole life, so he indulges often and easily, but that puts him in a vulnerable position that can (and has) left him open to being hurt by the world around him. He’s one who is going to notice the weather, the quality of the air, because those were things that held meaning to him when he lived in the mountains – he’s one to fixate on his own mistakes, because he’s used to them being pointed out to him.

Lotor wanted to take off his mask so it was one less thing getting in the way, an obstruction to peeling back Lance’s sense of self, his ideas and interests and beliefs balled up in and thrown in a bin, along with his name and his past, so that he could be some fucked up little prize for the guy’s own enjoyment.

The fucking betrayal of his own body, too. The flushed cheeks, the friction of his hips over Lotor’s… ugh. It wasn’t — he didn’t want it, it didn’t feel good, but the physical sensation was demanding and his body literally could not do anything but respond, and the memory of that alone was enough to have him clutching his head between his knees, legs drawn up to his chest.

Why was this so confusing? It shouldn’t be, and that only made Lance more frustrated. Lotor was a selfish asshole who tried to use his title to his advantage and force Lance to do things he didn’t want to do. Lance had even succeeded in pushing him away and standing up for himself, but the triumph was bittersweet.

This mindset was especially critical when writing Chapter 14: Twenty-Six Hours, because it was the first time we delved into the consciousnesses of the other characters! (I’m just really happy with the way that one turned out *sob*)

Also, a note on villany: I really dislike one dimensional villains. I prefer when my evil comes with a healthy dose of “fuck I sort of agree with that… to an extent?”

Which is why writing Lotor’s big monologue in Chapter 16: The Prisoner’s Dileema was such a challenge. I had to make his treatment of Lance seem, in some fucked up version of reality, justifiable. Because really, Lotor is a product of circumstance; he was raised with his beliefs of the poor and especially of someone of Lance’s “status,” and was acting in such a way that reflected that up-bringing. Now, Keith was raised in similar circumstances and isn’t a huge piece of shit, so there’s no excuse for Lotor’s behavior – but it’s at least logical. You can imagine buying an ox that’s for sale at the market, and then using said ox to plow your fields; we don’t see that as cruel or as mistreatment. Lotor sees Lance as little more than that, and so, in giving him lots of attention and “validation” (something that we know canon-Lotor was unfortunately lacking), it stands to reason that he was in fact trying to be kind to Lance, to treat him with a warped sense of respect.

…okay, that’s all for now! I really hope this helps and wasn’t too long-winded, like everything I do. you’ve effectively made my morning, anon, and I hope you have a wonderful day. my best wishes and luck to you while writing you story!

#writing things #writing inspiration #ask answered #inside my head #klance #klance fanfic #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld fanfic #voltron fanfic

28 notes · View notes

acidmatze · 6 years

Text

In this together [1]

So.. I said I would maybe write some self-indulgent Dabi x Reader stuff and I did and because I love attention I will post it here now. There won’t be any specific update times or anything I just update when theres something to update. This is mainly stuff I wrote for myself to feel better but I figured that I want to share it. So suggestions are welcome.

Since it’s intended as a pick me up there will be barely any plot nor will there be much angst. A bit might pop up here and there given the setting of the thing but it will be quickly resolved. Also due to the setting triggering themes might come up but I will tag them as such and also mark the passage in which they occur so you can read around them.

The setting basically is: You are currenly living in a rehabilitation facility since you got diagnosed with [Redacted]. You have settled in quite nicely and found some friends. However, due to some fights things haven’t been the same and you hope that the New Guy can change it.

And now the room next to yours was empty again. To the left of you, when standing inside your room facing the door. To the right was Izuku's room. Next to his Todoroki's. Opposite of yours Tsuyu's. You moved here three months ago and since then to the left of you was some guy you barely ever saw. Or heard. He moved out and you never learned a single thing about him. And tomorrow a new guy will move in, your group was told.

Your friend Twice, living on the above floor, knew him apparently. Said he was a great guy and all and just recently got out of jail. Drug dealing or something, nothing too horrible. Maybe also broke someone's jaw but that was some time ago already.

But now it was time for breakfast.

Tomura, a guy in your group who lived at the other end of the hallway was already in the kitchen and angrily stared at his plate Seems like he didn't sleep again. You on the other hand slept quite well. The weekend was spend by watching movies with Twice mostly.

Todoroki seemed awfully tense. During the morning assembly when the head of the clinic was talking about how your group gets a new “patient” tomorrow he winced on his chair. He also didn't say anything during breakfast. It was normal that he was somewhat withdrawn and silent but normally he would say what is bothering him. But nothing today.

He didn't appear to occupational therapy, only to tell the supervisor that he has a migraine and will be absent.

You absent-mindedly filed around on the piece of the tree trunk you wanted to paint a picture on. You got the idea from Kirishima who burned a picture into another tree trunk piece for the herb garden in the backyard of the rehabilitation facility.

But before you could start the actual drawing process you needed to get it smooth first. Which was boring. The last two times you were lucky enough to have Todoroki to chat with, who was glueing rhinestone pieces as a mosaic onto a small glass. He said he would later put a candle in it. Tokoyami walked in with lots of Acrylic paint tubes in his arms.

“I was told you might need those soon. Gonna paint something?” You pointed at the tree stump. “Yeah as soon as its smooth. I wanna hang it on the wall of my room.”

Tokoyami nodded. “I like that aesthetic. It has a Victorian touch to it.” You had no idea if he just made this up or was right. And you had no reception here in the basement to look it up. So you just agreed. “Exactly. Victorian era inspired.”

Todoroki was absent during lunch too. One of the guys who only came here for the therapies and lived in his own apartment and Tomura got in a fight about Final Fantasy.

After ten minutes Tomura got up and walked in his room. He wanted to dramatically slam the door but its a fireproof one that closes on its own. Even if he would have wanted to slam it, shortly before closing it would have slowed down and then slowly fall shut. A few moments later you could hear him passive aggressively play Need for Speed Most Wanted. His cheap speakers made Disturbed sound horribly tinny.

If Twice was here he would have yelled at Tomura for being such a disgrace.

After lunch you helped in the kitchen instead of Todoroki. Tsuyu thanked you whole-heartedly since today more pots and pans were used to cook than usual. Which means more dishes. Which means less time to clean everything before the therapies started again.

Tsuyu had to be downstairs for occupational therapy and you had to go to the living room for social skills training.

Which was boring. And now as the day was ending you really started wondering how the new guy would be. The atmosphere got chilly over the last few weeks and many fights had broken out between the patients. Or occupants. Whatever someone would want to call them. You preferred to say Occupants.

Maybe someone new could bring some stability into this mess. You missed spending the evenings together in group 3's living-room. They had the biggest one so mostly you would sit there until midnight with some others watching movies or playing Playstation but after all those fights lately you never got a group together.

Kirishima's football group also got disbanded because of this. Normally, he and some others would meet every Wednesday and Friday after dinner and go to the football field down the block for a few hours. That was no more. Kirishima and Bakugou went alone now mostly.

It all had started after Izuku took over the storage room where the mineral water was kept. The girl who was in charge of it for literal years moved out and now that was Izuku's job.

He quickly noticed that bottles where disappearing. He gave out full crates to everyone but somehow almost never got full crates back. He talked about this one morning during assembly and that was how the fights started. Everyone accused the other one of stealing the bottles to exchange them for money at the local store. Bakugou even threatened to beat up Shinsou because he thought he was the one stealing them. So far it was still unclear what happened to the bottles. They were still disappearing but now slower than before.

And then he arrived.

You were sitting in one of the armchairs on your group's hallway and played around on your phone.

The main entrance door slammed shut. You expected someone to come back from a smoking break.

You heard Twice yelling something and someone answered.

“I'm not even in your group I just wanted to say hello and welcome to my bestest friend. Also I hate you! Please rot in hell forever.”

Yeah that was Twice, alright.

The glass door opened and in stepped Twice accompanied by a really tall lanky guy about your age, maybe a bit older in all black and a Korn T Shirt. He looked a bit intimidating with all the burn scars and stuff.

This was the new guy?

“Yo, Y/N! Say hi to my good pal Dabi!”

“Uhm.. hi”

You were still intimidated but nevertheless got up to shake his hand. He was in your group after all. And would live right next to you.

“How's it going? I'm Dabi.”

“Y/N”

“Cool.” “Yeah.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds.

Twice clapped his hands sarcastically.

“Wow what a great conversation you're having. You both suck!”

Dabi cleared his throat.

“Yeah... well.. Where can I put my shit? I get my own room, right?”

Twice pointed at you.

“Why don't you ask Y/N? Ah by the way, who is his buddy?” “My... what?”

It was time for you to explain the basics.

“A buddy. Like.. someone who shows you around and explains to you how stuff works here. Everyone has one for the first few days here.”

“Cool. Who's mine?”

You chewed on your lip. He will probably not like the answer.

“We couldn't find anyone, to be honest. But if you want I can show you around. First you should go and get your key though.”

Dabi sighed.

You led him down the hallway to the secretary's office.

She gave Dabi his keys and the schedule for this week.

“What's this for?” He pointed at the schedule.

“Well.. so you know when you have to be somewhere. Breakfast is at 8.15. If you're late someone will wake you and it's not pleasant. Then we go upstairs to the morning assembly. And it seems like you have nothing to do in the morning yet. But occupational therapy in the afternoon today. And tomorrow too.”

Izuku walked past you two. Upon seeing Dabi he paled a bit and walked faster.

“Oh great, everyone's afraid of me. Have they never seen someone with scars before?”

After showing him the entire house you were happy to be back in your room. During the tour you ran into Kirishima who just stared at Dabi, Bakugou who wanted to kick him for some reason, Tomura who was in the living room and immediately slammed the door shut and Tokoyami who complimented his shirt.

You heard Dabi slamming his closet door and cursing under his breath.

You had no idea what to think about him. His voice was pleasant. Calming. Absolutely in stark contrast to his looks.

But he also was a head taller than you and looked like he could break a tree in half.

You noticed that it was weirdly silent outside. Normally the kitchen crew would be shuffling around, cooking and stuff. And Tsuyu was known for putting on some music while cooking. But you heard nothing. Maybe it was time to invenstigate.

#my writing #dabi #dabi x reader #this isnt betaed #also my brain doesnt want to work so it could be complete and utter nonsense

19 notes · View notes