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spacedikut · 3 years

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exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done – for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mine #the end is super cheesy but #eeeeeeeeeeeeee

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yourea--stubborn--man · 3 years

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The link to my AO3 is on my blog, but I figured I’d make a nice and neat post with all my Star Trek fics in one place to reblog every once in a while.

Edit: every time someone reblogged this post, I got 10+ kudos on AO3 compared to the usual 3, and 2-3 comments a day compared to a couple per week. The first time it happened I almost cried. Likes did not have this effect, as they don’t share the post with anyone. Not going to ask you to reblog, but look what a difference it makes.

Please remember that while I love getting prompts, I’m not accepting any at the moment as I have far too many WIPs I’m super invested in and want to focus on.

To avoid seeing this post again, blacklist #essebificmasterpost

Kirk/Spock:

✨ Ablutions: Mature, Oneshot, 2.4k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Jim wakes up after their first night together and watches Spock get ready for the day. Just a little fic about Jim being hopelessly in love with and in awe of Spock.

Tags: Mention of sex | Nudity | Morning After | fwp (fluff without plot)

✨ Save the last dance: Mature, Oneshot, 3.9k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

In which there is revealing alien formalwear, slow-dancing and out-of-body sexual experiences.

Tags: Slow Dancing | Possessive!Spock | pining!jim | Mind Meld Sex

✨ One of your Earth emotions: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 1.8k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

5 times Spock didn’t know what he felt for Jim +1 time he finally did.

✨ Thank God for telepathy: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 2.1k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Based on this post by boldly-yo on Tumblr: "Anyway, Jim asking to kiss Spock followed by Spock leaning his head in as Jim sticks his hand out is, The Best fanfic trope"

✨You are my answer: Explicit, Oneshot, 7.1k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

After the events of The Motion Picture, Spock is ready to fully confront his feelings for Jim.

✨ Mythos: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 1.2k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Spock tells Jim an ancient Vulcan legend. Written for the Star Trek Bingo 2020 for the prompt “mythos/magic”.

✨In Vino Veritas: Explicit, Oneshot, 5.7k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

The Enterprise is celebrating the end of its fourth year in space. At the party, Jim is nursing a bottle of Saurian brandy, afraid he’ll never get to confess his feelings to Spock without scaring him away. Written for the Star Trek Bingo 2020 for the "free space" square. I chose the prompt "In vino veritas".

✨Close to you: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 7.5k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

A sudden snowstorm during an away mission interferes with the Enterprise’s transporters and communications, leaving Jim and Spock stranded alone on an alien planet. A small cave their only shelter and huddling for warmth the only way to avoid hypothermia, they are forced to confront their feelings for one another.

Julian Bashir/Elim Garak:

✨Secrets and Lies: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 1.7k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Ever since he was a child, Elim Garak had loved telling lies. Written for the Star Trek Bingo 2020 for the prompt “Secrets or lies”.

Tags: First Kiss | Character Study | Relationship Study | Not ASIT compliant

✨Detective: Teen and Up Audiencies, Oneshot, 1.7k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Following the Section 31 attempt to enlist Julian, suspecting that Garak may not be volunteering all the information he can to Starfleet Intelligence and suspecting that the two men may instead be working together and exchanging military secrets to bring down the Federation, the Federation sends a private detective to investigate the matter behind Sisko’s back. Said detective uncovers a secret, but not the one the Federation was hoping for… Written for the Star Trek Bingo 2020 for the prompt “Detective”.

#garashir #spirk #kirk/spock #space husbands #t'hy'la #I doubt this will show up in tags because of the links #but it doesn't hurt to try I guess lol #essebificmasterpost

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franeridart · 3 years

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Anon said: ook this might be weird but whenever i look at your art i always look forward to what you put in the tags because its always so interesting

AW ANON THANK YOU that’s pure stream of consciouseness for me so it flatters me to know you actually care about that hahaha

Anon said: Hello, is it possible for me to use your art as personal wallpaper? Or would you prefer not?

No problems with it at all!!! thank you for liking my stuff enough to want to look at it that often! <3<3

Anon said: do u plan on getting an instagram? love ur art btw ur style is so😮‍💨🤌🤌

Thank you!! And not at the moment, but it’ll all depend on how long I’ll be able to keep my art going around through twitter and tumblr alone... if one day I’ll feel the need to get one I will! I used to say I would never get a twitter either, after all😂 I was the fool all along

Anon said: Hello, just to let you know that i love your art, it's the only thing keeping me sane after reading jjk

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what a compliment!!!!!!!!!! let’s keep on living in better timelines together, anon!!!!! 😭😭😭

Anon said: hiii, coming back to say that you're jjk family art is just sO CUTE and convinced me to enter the fandom.— ^^

ANONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN I HOPE YOU DON’T EXPECT JJK TO BE FLUFF!!!!!!!!! please tell me I didn’t deceive you into reading this thing 😂😂😂😂😂 I like to pretend things are nice and happy but that’s for my own sanity strictly ;A; thank you for liking my art enough to want to check out the source material though ;; <3

Anon said: im not sure if you know this but on the shipping wiki page for satosugu your art is linked in the fandom section and i feel the need to inform you of this honor lmaoo

I DIDN’T KNOW ACTUALLY LMAO oh my god thank you to whoever it was that decided to link my stuff specifically???? it was so soon after I posted it too....... I feel honoured 😂🙏

Anon said: satosugu family.......cuddles.............i will get back to you in 3-5 business days, i am too busy crying right now to form coherent thoughts

Them soft and warm and happy....................the only thing keeping me sane 🙏 🙏 🙏 very glad you share the feeling, anon!!!! 💕💕💕

#fran answers #hello hello please if you're thinking of reading jjk don't base your decision solely on my portrayal of it #😂😂😂😂😂😂#no i mean if you wanna read it please dooooooooo the more people read it the happier i am #but also it's heavy af so!!!!!!#check the tags and all that💕

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swtorcompanionsgoofin · 3 years

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soooooooooooooo i finished echoes of oblivion with Zal owo gotta finish spirit of vengeance yet to be Completely caught up on all the Stuffs (I think???) but y e e t

So here’s my Thoughts fjdklsa they are exceptionally rambley and Exceptionally disorganized bc i am Stream Of Consciousness Excitement Yelling jfdkla

Unpopular as fuck opinion: I fuckin love the swtor Revan and when I saw him I was like !!!!!!!!!!!!! REVAN!!!!!! MY GUY!!!! HELL YEAH!!!!! I was SO hype to see him I love him.

Just, a lot of joy there jfdkasljfdak

And fckn!!! Seeing Marr again!!! and Getting SEVERAL smooch opportunities with Theron, and fckn, at the beginning of the whole echoes thing having the whole crew be like ‘i’m coming with u’ and I was like, y’all, this is So many people we’re probably good, don’t worry about it and then fckn

5 seconds later ‘damn we might need help’ ‘GOOD THING WE’RE HERE THEN’ ‘OH SHIT. good thing y’all don’t fuckin listen to me I guess thank u for showing up’ and i THOUGHT it was just going to be Senya and Arcann but then like, 5 minutes later or whatever after I was like ‘OO REVAN’ bc YAY REVAN, THERON out here just ‘everything’s good over here’ and I was like oH SHIT, YOU’RE HERE TOO??? HOT DAMN. Idk what I expected but I kinda thought Theron was gonna get left out of the loop and be pissed or smth later fjdklas but nah. He just Vibing.

And fckn, it is Hilarious how much time I spent looking at all these lovely lovely environments and looking at all this Cool Ass Shit just kinda, now what can I do with this with Skaia bc I got fckn Skaia Brainrot Always jfdklas.

It was all ‘how can I use this to cause Distress bc I’m Terrible and this is how I love my characters. Make Things Worse jfdkla.

Tenebrae looks so fuckin cool and Burnt Sock Man Vitiate has a really fun voice, and the whole thing was cool as shit fjdkla.

There was a whole like, section, that whole bit where u gotta fight stuff alone and I was like oh shit bc Zal’s a Squish Wizard and then I fckn, saw a gold star fucker and i was like damn Zal’s a Squish Wizard but then there was a cLIFF. AND YOU CAN’T STAGGER OR YEET THE SILVER BITCHES BUT YOU CAN STAGGER AND YEET THE GOLD BITCHES SO GUESS WHO STOOD NEXT TO A CLIFF AND CHUCKED LIGHTING AT IT UNTIL IT GOT CLOSE ENOUGH, WENT BEHIND IT, AND Y E E T.

THIS ASSHOLE. I DID THAT. IT WAS AWESOME.

The whole fckn arena for that thing had like 6 different health-swirly-stations and i just kinda, bubbled myself and then yote it off a cliff.

It was great.

Also???? so many cool ass fckn characters just vibing in there???? and fckn, so many cool ass places for screenshots???? Zal’s coat deciding to be a propellor in his pelvis was a bit of a buzzkill for that but it didn’t happen that often.

AND FKCN, GOT TO HAVE REVAN AS A COMPANION BRIEFLY. THAT WAS AWESOME. HE’S SO COOL. I LOVE HIM.

aaaaaaaaaa I just really love Revan okay jfdkal, it was so cool having him tag along like yes hello I love this.

And at the end!!!! Satele campfire time!!!! And like, the whole fckn, waking up to Lana like ‘lmfao guess i don’t have to stab u with this thing for wake ups’ like LMFAO HI LANA. THANKS PLS DON’T. But fckn, being out for an hour longer than anyone else that’s rad I love that as like, a trope or whatever I guess. It’s nice. fjdkal Also Lana just fuckin dumps u in a corner like ‘he can sleep it off there’ LMFAO WHAT I love her. And just ;v; I was very tempted when she fckn, was like, ‘ok so where are we going’ to just do the ‘somewhere quiet’ thing but fckn, going home was the priority. It was great.

ALSO THAT FCKN FINAL BOSS FIGHT WAS A CLUSTERFUCK AND A HALF IT WAS AWESOME. Like, absolute mayhem, complete chaos. I spent just as much time running away as I did fighting anything, and then running around while trying to read the fckn companion ability bar thing it was great. It was the Best jfdka. What an absolute clusterfuck I loved it.

and a bunch of mando stuff happened in the cutscenes before the echoes stuff!!! it was super cool!!!! I love Shae, she’s awesome. God I love this game fjdsakl.

ALSO, fckn, from what I gather from other people going ‘he was tiny and now i hate him’ Rivix is kind of a tool and/or he’s going to do Betrayal things, which like, fine, but I love him???? I don’t trust him At Fucking All but I love him. His voice is Great and also you get to be gay at him and fckn, I see that flirt option on a dude, Zal’s going for it. He did the whole Marry Theron thing but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to flirt with every dude he can manage except Arcann but that was a ‘buddy I had a Fun Bonding Experience with your MOM about being PARENTS u need to Not i know Way too much about you right now’ thing lmfao bc GAY.

i’m just really excited about this jfkdsla. It’s great.

#ela babbles #swtor spoilers #swtor echoes of oblivion #Continuity: Love and Everything #Zal-hessah #inquisidad #y'all i just really love this game jfdkal

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pertinax--loculos · 3 years

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Weekly Update 29/08

Note: shaking up the format this week, mostly because I just can't stop talking. These updates are gonna become purely about draft progress -- I'm going to include the titles of the books I've read/am reading at the end, but will post my thoughts separately as something of a 'review' (which will likely just be a collation of my stream-of-consciousness thoughts. Or just those thoughts unedited, depending how I feel). I'm also going to post the excerpt in a dedicated post of its own, so keep an eye out for that! ;)

Currently Writing Absent That Night (tagged: WIP: ATN)

wordcount this week: 19,981

total wordcount: 58,127(note: I know this jumped; it's because I realised that I was a week behind with adding to the total ooops)

[new addition] total time writing: 9hrs 10min

re: the above point -- I think this is a much more productive way of tracking my progress. As I've mentioned, I'm an egregious overwriter, so wordcount goals really don't motivate me too much (I could get 1000 words down and only be like a quarter of the way into the scene dear god help editing this is gonna be hellacious). So I think by scheduling time instead, it's going to force me to be a lot more productive and hopefully get me well on my way to my goal deadline!

re: deadline -- need to do a proper recalculation of where I actually am, because I think I'm a little bit behind. Something to do for next week, however!

I've also started pretty hardcore scheduling this week. It's kinda a mess due to my ridiculously inconsistent work schedule (and the way they often ask me like three hours beforehand if I want to take a shift), but it's great to have time blocked out for certain things. Definitely gonna continue it until this draft is finished, and then reassess whether I like it or whether I'd prefer something more flexible/any other adjustments

briefly considered/considering swapping to google docs for convenience's sake, but I am a) Wary of The Cloud and b) I am not using a writing app where I have to hit two buttons to get italics. I use far too many goshdarned italics to goshdarned do that fucking bullshit. The fact that text colour is still easily accessible but italics is not also makes me unreasonably angry

so instead I'm trying evernote. ^_^ Seems okay so far...?

[deleted a rant about evernote as well given that I figured out what was annoying me and we’re all good now 😅]

work is legit fucking killing me, man. The work itself is not too hard, but being essentially on-call (because I still don't have a roster so need to take the shifts in case I don't get others) makes scheduling so damn hard. I was literally halfway through a scene the other day when I had to stop and do Life Things before my unplanned shift. I'm thankful I have a job I can go to during lockdown, but dear lord I cannot wait until I know how many shifts I have and can a) plan around that and b) say fucking no if I want to

seriously considering dropping one of my suspect subplots. I keep forgetting about it, and the plan was always to dead-end it at the midpoint anyway. Plus I think including that one I have... seven? serious suspects, so could probably go with some simplifying. 😅 At the moment I'm thinking I'll leave it out, and if I think the next section needs the extra tension or anything I'll write as though it's there and add it in later if needed

honestly the difference between writing a scene I've had planned/been looking forward to and one which is only a vague notion/I've added because it's 'required' is stark. I just absolutely blow through the former, and sometimes it's like pulling teeth with the latter. But I am getting them done! They just take a right chunk of time sometimes. -.-

related to this, I really need to get my ass in gear with some scene-by-scene planning of Act II. Goal it to at least get some ideas for scenes jotted down for the first half this week!

think I do actually dislike writing at night. I've been forced to by work a couple times this week, and the problem is I stay up too late, and even then sometimes don't complete the scenes (which is generally my aim). But also, it puts my brain in Writing Mode, which not only makes it harder to sleep, but also generally results in my crafting beautiful sentences and even whole scenes whilst I'm trying to sleep that I promptly forget upon waking the next morning. Ugh

this week I also managed to stumble over some books that seem to fit the same genre as ATN. Not 100% on what that genre actually is (still) but there does seem to be a (niche?) area of paranormal/fantasy/crime/mystery-that-is-not-set-in-a-contemporary world (ie not exactly urban-fantasy/mystery). Definitely have added all the ones I've found so far to the reading list!

clearly I have hit the middle of this draft, because I've been hit hard by a Shiny New Idea. Amalgamating all the advice I've read on the subject, I've jotted down all my thoughts and put it to the side until I finish this damned draft first

ultimately, still having fun, still loving this world and all the characters, still loving attempting to work to a deadline. Everything is shiny and happy this week. ^_^ Let's hope it stays that way ahaha... ha.

This week's goal: complete minimum five scenes; map out scene-by-scene guide for first half of Act II

As far as reading... current read: Midnight, Water City by Chris McKinney

finished Survive the Night by Riley Sager

#weekly update #WIP: ATN #writeblr #original writing #oh lord #this still turned out ridiculously long #oh well #whaddya gonna do?#*shrug*#:D

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eledritch · 6 years

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So reading all of you amazing works as well as following the content of other lovely Sheith shippers has inspired to finally write some fan fiction and contribute too! It’s been literal years since I’ve written anything though, and of course the story that got me really excited is going to have to be a multi chapter monster. As the master of long and complex fanfics, any advice for beginners?

Good!! I believe in you.

Sure, why the heck not :’) been awhile since I made a big writing tips post and I feel like I have some new things to offer since the last one. I don’t know if your fic is gonna be an AU or canon-compliant, but since my specialty is long and complex multichapter AUs, this is mainly gonna be about that.

First, you can check out my ‘writing tips’ tag for my own tips and tips from others on tumblr: http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/tagged/writing-tips

The most important advice I can give to you as a writer is to READ. I don’t read nearly as much as I used to, but I still try to when I can. Reading was what gave me the inspiration and knowledge I needed for worldbuilding, which is a vital part of not just AUs, but any long and complex fic. You need to be confident about writing the world you’ve stuck your characters in. You have to know that world better than anyone.

More often than not, books aimed at children actually have better worldbuilding than books for adults. There are exceptions to this (a lot of sci-fi, like Dune & The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, for example, as well as dystopian fiction like The Handmaid’s Tale), but some of my favorite worlds remain those from children’s books. They include:

The Ever After in the May Bird & the Ever After series

The absurdist and time-period defiant world where anything goes (as long as it’s unfortunate) of A Series of Unfortunate Events

The Other World in Coraline & London Below Gaiman’s adult fantasy novel Neverwhere

The world populated by various small animals like mice, rats, and squirrels in Redwall by Brian Jacques

The medieval kingdoms of Goose Girl by Shannon Hale

The eerie surrealist circus world of The Palace of Laughter by Jon Berkeley

I’m also currently working my way through the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, which is some INCREDIBLE worldbuilding in a high fantasy setting.

So what do all of these have in common? Well, contrary to popular belief, I don’t think you have to go Full Tolkien and write a brand new language as well as six thousand maps for your world. Nope. None of that is required. All that is required is that you LOVE the world you created. Love the heck out of it. Even if it’s a shitty world. Doesn’t matter. It’s YOUR shitty world.

The more you love this world of yours, the more you’re gonna want to write about it, and the more reluctant you will be to let yourself drop the project. The pitfall many fanfic writers (and writers in general) fall into when writing long works is that they get burnt out and tired of their own story. You can’t get tired of your story if you keep adding to the world and finding new things to love and explore within it.

Worldbuilding reflects onto your characters, too - people are in many ways a product of their surroundings, after all. If your world is shitty, then your characters might end up a little shitty, too. But - and here’s the clever thing about this - because you love your world so much, and because your characters are an integral part of that world (they should be, if they’re your protagonist/villain/etc), you end up loving your characters, too. It feels like a betrayal if you stop writing their stories, and the world you’ve created should at this point feel almost like a real place, albeit within your head and your imagination. And when that happens, writing about your world and characters doesn’t feel like a chore or an obligation anymore. It feels like an adventure.

That being said, human brains have limits and it shouldn’t ALL exist in your head. You gotta take notes, do some doodles and simple maps if you’re into that, and also use resources made specifically to organize worldbuilding. I tend to just use good ol’ fashioned pencil and paper, but I’ve heard this tool is pretty good for digital organization:

https://www.notebook.ai/

Additionally, don’t be afraid to uh....“borrow” from other worlds that have been made before. The sooner you understand that everyone kinda steals (respectfully) from everyone (i.e. the lion king is hamlet; romeo and juliet is heavily inspired by the greek myth of pyramus and thisbe), the better off you’re gonna be in worldbuilding. You can, and unavoidably will, use worlds you’ve read about and/or experienced in the past in your own worldbuilding. It becomes a patchwork of your own, and once you have a base for your world, it becomes increasingly easy to add onto it and expand with more original ideas.

It can also be helpful to do a ton of research. Say you want your world to somewhat resemble Victorian England. How are you gonna know what that was like? Watch movies set in Victorian England to understand the aesthetic and speech. Watch documentaries to get a more factual basis. Read books set in Victorian England for the language and the societal ideas. Go on a Wikipedia or Google deep dive - almost always, you will end up in a much more interesting place than you expected. Listening to music can also be super helpful to get into a particular tone you want to see in your world, or can help you find the tone if you’re not sure what you want yet. I have playlists for most of my stories.

And, finally, understand that there’s always room for growth. I know my worldbuilding can be better than it is, so with every new story, I strive to make a more vibrant, vivid, lovable world than before. And guess what? Usually, not only does it work, but I also enjoy myself while writing more.

The key to long and complex fics is genuinely enjoying what you’re writing. You may be able to bullshit and slog your way through a shorter fic, but not a 200k monster. Another important key - know where your story is going to end up.

You need a goal to work towards. Maybe it’s a scene you’ve been wanting to write since you came up with the story. It doesn’t have to be the ending, but it helps if it is. You should know the ending by at least the middle of the story. I’m pretty sure I’ve written stories where that wasn’t the case and I was just flying by the seat of my pants, seeing where my world and characters took me next...which is a valid way to approach writing, but riskier, and ultimately rather frustrating when writing fics since you can’t exactly go back and insert foreshadowing for the ending you didn’t know was coming, lol.

I find late-night brainstorms best for figuring out how I want to end stories. I’ll open up a word doc, think for a good while, and then just start typing. Type it out stream of consciousness style. It doesn’t need to be a good explanation of the events, it just has to be an explanation. (This is also helpful in long stories for writing down reoccuring elements you don’t want to forget, such as slang, societal titles, a promise a character made to another than they really need to bring up again sometime...)

For example, here is my stream of consciousness brain-spew for my fic Seal It With A Kiss (this did not all end up happening quite like this, but here it is, warning for nsfw mentions lmao):

Witch Classes: Apprentice, novice, journeyman, master/magus, archmagus

The Wastes – western desert wasteland, Keith is from Blackwater, three days’ ride from the Citadel. It’s bordered by the River Acheron to the west, on the other side of which are the lands where Keith’s father lived with his first wife. The ocean is to the north, with the island of Cobao directly south of the Citadel.

The Citadel – centrally located, perched among Asphodel Peaks, near the lowland Oscuran Woods. Capital, Altea City, is three days’ ride to the east. Shiro’s grandparents live to the south on the shores of Lake Lucanus, a major fishing outpost bordered by the Dalterion Swamplands to the south.

THE VOID: mysterious dimension (or entity?) accidentally opened by witches eons ago (oops), which created Hell and unleashed demons/monsters/old gods (Voidborn). It is made up of what witches call infernal magic – a powerful and supposedly corrupted/corrupting form of quintessence. The Void is largely unknown and inaccessible to humans. Few return, and those who do are always changed by it.

HELL: Thought to be a reflection of the Void on a more physical/less abstract plane. Hell is made up of many pocket realms, including Daibazaal (one of the largest, ruled by the Galra), and Stratonikeia (ruled by Hecate). It is populated by Voidborn, who carve out sections of it for themselves in warlord-esque fashion.

Neither Hell nor the Void are inherently “evil,” though most witches consider them so, and they are dangerous. While the most well-established Voidborn rule with law and order, many other parts are lawless chaos centered around power struggles, and all Voidborn are morally gray to an extent.

VOIDBORN: Despite their vast differences, all Voidborn derive power from human souls & quintessence. Often generalized as demons, Voidborn are secular beings with no “holy” counterpart (i.e. angels), however, they come in many forms:

SPECTERS: generally the weakest Voidborn, they lack corporeal form and often “haunt” areas with histories of death, grief, and bloodshed, frightening humans and feeding off of their fear.

MONSTERS: a large and varied group of Voidborn, not as intelligent nor powerful as demons. They are the mostly likely to directly attack/kill/eat humans and are often hunted, with trophies of their heads displayed outside remote villages to ward off other monsters.

OLD GODS: a more rare group which often overlaps with greater demons; old gods can be benevolent if appeased (i.e. through ritual sacrifice, favors, offerings, worship, etc). They define territories for themselves and over time can become deified by local peoples, since old gods have been known to protect their lands and the people within them in exchange for worship.

LESSER DEMONS: more intelligent than monsters but less powerful than greater demons and old gods, they often rely on contracts and trickery to get their way. They are known to be petty, cruel, and ugly.

GREATER DEMONS: highly intelligent and powerful, they are dangerous beings who chiefly use contracts, torture, manipulation, and possession to take power from souls, which they crave more than any other Voidborn.

*Haggar has been cloaking Keith from Krolia so she cannot find her son since Keith went to the Citadel*

Shiro was captured by Haggar, who experimented on him (gave him the arm, which is powered by infernal energy/Void quintessence and began to corrupt his soul/erode it) and used him as a gladiator, until she managed to capture and slay Kurobasanir, whose quintessence she combined with the remnants of Shiro’s soul. His soulless, empty body was left to fight in the arena as a kind of robotic killing machine, while Shiro’s self became entangled with Kurobasanir. Because Kurobasanir was dead but Shiro was alive and so determined to stay alive, Shiro’s soul (primed with the Void energy which allowed him to stand up against Kuro) took control, though he gained Kurobasanir’s memories, abilities, and personality, while losing/forgetting his own. However as time passes with Keith, Shiro’s subconscious (ironically the only part of him which is still conscious/knows who he is) begins to break through, making him more ‘human’ as he starts to remember who he is/have doubts that he is really Kurobasanir.

He is unable to shift into any other human but Shiro, falls in love with Keith (demons are supposedly incapable of love), experiences sudden surges of emotion/nostalgia and feels protective towards Shiro’s family/horse/possessions/etc, is mostly unaffected by spells that should exorcise or defeat demons, and acts differently than the original Kurobasanir according to the late incubus’s friends. Because Kurobasanir was a sadist, but Shiro is not, so when he fucks Keith in front of the other demons, they know something’s up because he’s not hurting Keith at all.

What he doesn’t remember/know, though, is that this whole thing is a trap set by Haggar in order to lure Keith, who is a cambion (half demon, half human) to her so she can experiment on him in her quest to gain immortality so she can stay with Zarkon forever without surrendering her soul/turn her own soul into a demon’s essence. Because cambion, once mature, are effectively immortal and have a soul, while still retaining dormant Void magic within them which allows for their immortality and more demonic qualities. They are also extremely rare, and Haggar only knows of Keith because Hekate (Krolia) was her mentor and mentioned him.

So when Keith and Shiro go to find Shiro at the Samhain Tourney, Keith sees Shiro’s soulless body fighting and goes to break him out of his cell in the intermission; Shiro, not recognizing him/caring about him/trained to kill on sight tries to kill him, Keith is horrified and unable to bring himself to hurt Shiro, so he is saved by Kurobasanir, who realizes the situation fully once he comes face to face with the body that was once his, realizing his (Shiro’s) soul has been transferred into the incubus’s.

Before he can tell Keith this, though, Keith is captured by Haggar (who he recognizes as Honerva) and the two are separated. Keith cries alone in his cell, thinking Shiro is gone for good and also thinking Kurobasanir betrayed him and/or will be killed or tortured, leaving him utterly alone again. Lots of time passes and Keith realizes Haggar is trying to break the bond between him and Kurobasanir, because they’re both trapped and the contract must be sealed via sex. So Keith is in agony (and very very horny) because he can’t touch Shiro, and the contract is on the verge of breaking (and causing a great deal of pain and harm to both of them, since it was broken against their will) when Hekate/Krolia shows up, kicks BUTT, and bc she’s Mom of the Year, rescues Keith and brings him to Shiro while explaining on the way what happened. She also mentions that Keith’s father left because he was fulfilling the contract Hekate had with him, which was that because he was infertile she would bear him a “human” son (Keith), who would be blessed by her and live a happy/prosperous life, but in exchange Keith’s dad would only get sixteen years with his son, and then Hecate would take his soul.

As it turns out, though, Hekate/Krolia grew pretty darn fond of Keith’s dad (he’s a human teddy bear hedge mage unfazed by demons, what’s not to love), so he’s just chilling in Hell with her and had planned to come back and tell Keith the whole story, but when he returned Keith had gone off to the Citadel & Haggar was hiding Keith from Hecate.

So Keith and Shiro reunite and they’re so desperate for each other that they basically end up fucking while escaping (Keith is VERY EMBARRASSED but Krolia is like boi I am the mistress of dark magic, I don’t care, get that demon dick, proud of u son. Plus Shiro does his best to hide Things), cue a very wild scene in which both Keith and Shiro are kicking ass while fucking, since Shiro has regained his powers and Keith is Restored By The Power of Shiro’s Dick. Amen. Hallelujah.

Thankfully they finish up by the time they find the Holts, who were being forced to do alchemy stuff in Haggar’s lab. Haggar’s druids attack them, but Keith, who has read up on Honerva’s magic/theories, and Krolia, who mentored Honerva and is now pissed at her bc she tried to use Krolia’s son for her experiments, defeat the druids and are about to destroy Haggar’s research. Then Haggar bursts in, and in a desperate attempt to save her life’s work tells Keith that she can separate Shiro’s soul from Kurobasanir if he spares her/her work. Shiro is actually the one who hesitates, since he thinks Keith deserves much better than him and should have him fully human, as he appeared in their future together. But Keith has made up his mind – he loves Shiro in any and every form, and he’s done with Haggar’s shit. Furious at the thought of what she did to Shiro and planned to do to him, Keith’s magic creates a massive explosion which destroys the lab as Krolia uses one of Haggar’s traveling crystals to take them all away from Daibazaal.

Krolia takes them to her realm of Stratonikeia, a much more chill part of Hell. Because it’s Samhain and everyone is partying, Hecate’s palace is hectic and full of drunk demons and debauchery bc demons just wanna have fun, okay? Krolia makes sure the Holts are given safe accomodations so they can rest up and receive treatment before returning home. Meanwhile, Keith and Shiro are very shaken and Keith is weak from using so much magic to destroy Haggar and her lab. He and Shiro manage to escape the party and get to a balcony or something, where Shiro tearfully apologizes for everything, saying he understands if Keith wants to break ties after their contract is over, and that he wishes it didn’t have to end like this. Keith is quiet, then tells him that nothing is ending, pointing out that apparently he’s also immortal, and that technically Shiro gets his immortal soul in return for completing the contract. Shiro misunderstands, panicking and assuring Keith he will not take his soul and will leave him alone, but Keith cups his face and says he wants Shiro to have him forever, because he loves him, and never stopped loving him. Disbelieving but hopeful, Shiro embraces him gently, and when they kiss Keith begins to show his demonic characteristics (little horns, glowing eyes, tail, reddish scales).

Epilogue – Keith and Shiro get married. In Hell. It’s beautiful. They also have the most romantic, tender, kinky demon/cambion sex ever. They’re in love and together forever :’))

I hope that helps, dear!! Best of luck in your writing endeavors.

#ask me things #writing tips #siwak #writing #worldbuilding #Anonymous

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etraytin · 7 years

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such a winter's day & 3, 4, 5 :)

Oh boy, was this a sneaky plan to make me go back and look through my longest story (and thus get me in an updating mood?) :D Spoilers about for Such A Winter’s Day, if you have not read it already.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration? I hope this doesn’t mean one sentence, cause I’d never narrow it down! I have a soft spot for all of Chapter 6, the first Josh interlude chapter. It was actually the third chapter I wrote, but because it didn’t fit into the story until several chapters later, I had a lot of extra time to fool around with it and worry about it. It was so different from the style of the rest of the story that I basically held my breath while posting it, hoping that people would like it.

Within that chapter, my personal favorite part is “ After he'd returned to work, though, he'd found himself swamped by inexplicable anger at times, and at other times by suffocating isolation and loneliness. How did Sam and Donna understand each other, how were they war buddies, when Donna hadn't even been there that night? When Sam's worst injuries were scraped hands and skinned knees, not a bullet through the thoracic region? (That's what it was in the hospital and in CJ's briefings, not his chest, not his heart, “the thoracic region,” like he'd gotten shot in the demilitarized zone of some unpronounceable ex-Soviet state.) How were they getting on with their lives and going on dates with unsuitable people and god, still watching him with unbearably heavy gazes from impossible blue eyes?

I like a lot about this section, mostly because it’s the first time in the story that Josh acknowledges he has feelings for both these people and they have feelings for him, even if he will not say the words aloud even in his own head. It’s the first place I reference, even obliquely, the underlying narrative goal in the story. It’s also the end of the first three-beat for “impossible blue eyes,” a description Josh returns to throughout the story. And I just liked the thoracic region thing, it seemed like a very Josh sort of dark humor.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? Finding one line of dialogue is hard because so much of the dialogue in WW fanfic tends to be banter, and there’s little I love more than when the banter is flowing freely. I really like the part in Chapter 3 when Donna is teasing Sam about whether his hair is Presidential enough, and the bit in Chapter 4 where CJ and Donna talk about buying stolen underwear on the subway. And there’s Chapter 8, where Sam, Donna and Kinley narrate Russell’s disastrous press conference, and the running joke about “misfortune cookies.” I could go on, there are little fun parts throughout that I enjoy rereading.

But if I have to narrow it down to one, I’m going to go with Donna’s line in Chapter 33: “Then I think I should kiss him too.” It’s not much of a line, standing on its own, but there aren’t a lot of moments as a writer when you can take a single line of dialogue and use it to turn an entire plot on its ear. It was immensely satisfying!

5: What part was hardest to write? There were a lot of tough moments, especially in the Josh interludes where the thin line between stream of consciousness and “you’re using seventy commas in one sentence” was tough to walk, and parts where the relationship between the three characters seemed so strained, I wasn’t sure how to ever make it all work out. But I think of all of it, Chapter 33 was the hardest to write because it was me laying all my cards on the table for the first time. I knew from Chapter 2 onward that I wanted to try for an OT3 story, and that doing it properly was going to be arduous. SAWD was my very first fanfic in The West Wing and only my second ever, so I had little confidence in my ability to write it all the way it needed to be done. For a long time I left the relationship tags as Josh/Donna and Josh/Sam, with both those relationships in the past. Eventually I added Sam/Donna as well, but despite quite a bit of foreshadowing and innuendo, it wasn’t until Chapter 33 that I actually let the readers know what the endgame ship was going to be. Until that point, I always had an out, I could always just leave it at Sam/Donna and figure out something else to do with Josh (though I had no idea what.) I was incredibly nervous about the reaction I’d get, but very gratified when almost all my readers were really on board with the Sam/Donna/Josh idea by that time.

#thanks anon!#the west wing #fanfiction #writing meme #such a winter's day #Anonymous

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if-weshadows-haveoffended · 7 years

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Peter Maximoff x Reader

A/N: “You should be have dinner with Virginia Woolf with all this stream of consciousness.” -My Yr 12 Extension 2 English Teacher (on a section of my Major Work), 2016. Once again I seem to be in a bit of an experimental mode with my fics, so this is a little less dialogue heavy, but I hope it fulfils the prompt nevertheless 😊

Title: Why Pamper Life’s Complexities? (inspiration (x) ) Words:1300+ Tags: I’m having a minor crisis because I get distracted by cute boys at uni the same way I do with puppies, so it’s bled through. Rating: T Prompt: here (x) Masterpost (x) and Prompt List (x)

Why Pamper Life’s Complexities

Needless to say 1955 was a rather significant year for a twenty-two year old Erik Lensherr (unknowingly, who regretted his sudden leave later in life) and an eighteen year old Charles Xavier (knowingly, after several months, a frantic letter, and angry parents). Despite being on other sides of the world and in different dives, the story was always the same. Charming girl, copious amounts of alcohol, and either a lecture desk or a pool table. It was a fact that served to be a mutual basis of consternation for the two men in their long history of friendship.

The result of which resulted in two adorable miniature mutants with a lack of fine-motor skills and no sense of self-dependency until old enough to comprehend basics.

But Charles’ daughter faced a rather difficult situation, unlike her future best friend.

The ability to perceive human emotions and thoughts was not so different to that of human hearing. The frequencies of emotions and thoughts would travel, be received and an attempt to understand them was made; usually through manipulation. However, unlike hearing, there is no kind filter that attunes one’s mind to human voice and singular things- no, it cannot drown out a single thought and discard another. There is no simple harmony, no organisation, no cohesiveness.

So at the age eight she was shipped off to her father with a suitcase, a book of fairytales and the vain hopes that she may learn to sleep at night.

She stayed mostly to herself, though craving human interaction, it was exhausting. With a shrug she’d smile and leave a room of more than four, waving goodbye and finding another movie to watch at the cinemas or another book to borrow from her father’s library- or even the local library near to closing time when it was empty, when the remaining students minds’ had simple reduced to desperate and tired white noise. Characters, those of books, of movies and television- they were a delight for her. It was a rare moment where she could traverse the valley of human emotion and feel only one person’s thoughts at a time.

But music, music was perhaps the best.

The raw emotion, the gentle pain, the anger, the euphoria- all of it. It was simply exhilarating.

But as Peter placed in a Smiths tape with a manic grin spread across his face, and the opening bars of This Charming Man drifted towards her ears, two visions came startlingly clear into view, burning before your eyes and painfully constricting her brain.

The first was a hazy image of sandstorms and pyramids, flames and screams of agony as arrows pierced flesh and frenzied thoughts of trapped beings fought to escape. Then silence- death and the empty void before them.

The second was the familiar hand of a best friend intertwined with yours as it rested upon a swollen abdomen, the flickering heartbeat of life and thoughts coming into existence.

She wasn’t sure what scared her more:

The visions of life and death hanging by a web-like thread, ready to snap at whatever pressure the continuum of time and space would press upon it . Or the fact that at approximately 2:45 pm on May 1984, her father would wheel into what should have been his empty classroom only to find his only child rather enthusiastically making out with the only child of his best friend; against his prized antique teaching desk.

May, 1976

“Holy shit, Professor Xavier has a daughter? Like someone actually had sex with him?” Peter burst out in genuine shock, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Look, I know he looks like he’s probably on crack at the moment, but in the fifties and sixties he was actually rather clean-cut and attractive to most people.” Hank McCoy answered with a little smirk as he wheeled the scowling Professor in question into a quiet section of the Mansion.

“We were hoping to have my daughter teach, she’s just been churning her way through correspondence courses from Universities around the world. Perhaps tutorials rather than full classes, and certainly older students with better mental guards. But it’s just that…” Charles began, reaching the handle of his daughter’s bedroom door, hesitating before knocking. “She’s just lonely, Peter. Very lonely. I thought you’d be of help,”

“Sure thing, Professor.” Peter awkwardly stood, staring at his scuffed sneakers against an immaculately polished floor.

“Pumpkin, can we come in?” Peter held back a snort at the endearment, but finding it in whole to be rather cute of the Professor.

“You very well know the answer to that, papa.” The door creaked open and a young woman pulled a cardigan tight around her form. “You’re trying to coax me out of my hermit cave,”

“Of course, Pumpkin,” Charles grinned brilliantly and Hank gently pushed the door open wider in order to wheel the Professor in. “You know why we’re here,”

“Do you think you can help?” Peter was taken aback a little by her direct address towards him, and in turn he awkwardly brushed his hair back, staring down at the floor a little before trying to meet her gaze.

“Well, um,” He wasn’t sure how to word his answer, of course he wanted to help, but, he wasn’t exactly the best person to do that, after all he was a hot mess who’d barely scraped through a teaching course in college.

“It’s Y/N,”

“Do you like David Bowie?” Peter fumbled for words, deciding upon that somehow insufficient statement.

“What sort of question is that?” She replied as if the answer were obvious, Peter prepared himself for the worst. “What sort of rebellious teenager would I fucking be if I didn’t?”

“We’re going to be best friends,” Peter laughed, sticking out a hand.

“I know, I’ve already seen it,” She took with a dazzling smile. “It’s going to be dreadfully fun.”

May 26, 1984, 2:46 PM

It wasn’t every day that your best friend managed to save not only yourself and your father, but help take down an evil megalomaniac hell-bent upon taking over the known universe in a genocidal rage.

And it wasn’t as if you weren’t ungrateful to Peter, no, it was just…

Perhaps it was your hormones going “In case you’ve forgotten in your self-imposed hermit phase, you have a sex drive and it would be highly convenient if you could get yourself spermed in the nearest broom closet. Or bedroom. Or empty classroom…”. You know, because you were trying to figure out if you only wanted to bang Pietro Django Maximoff because he was the only (attractive, clever, kind, funny) male you had frequent contact with that wasn’t a relative (or as good as a relative).

But the instance his leg had healed, he had pulled you into his arms, trying furiously not to laugh and failing as his face turned an interesting shade of red, and you had both danced (swayed, giggled, sighed) to whatever his Walkman was playing. It was hard to deny what you felt for the poor bastard, and the jumbled voices of equally-if not more hormonal teenagers simply did not help the current situation, drowning out familiar chords and lyrics.

That current situation being your father’s mouth absolutely hanging aghast at the sight before him. You weren’t sure if it was Peter or her tulle skirt hitched up far too high to be platonic. Not that the kissing was platonic God no.

No, your confused mind could sense the jumbled mess of not only Peter (who’s hair was a mess due to the cherry-red nails that ran through them) but your equally as confused (and amused?) father.

“Oh GOD!” Charles awkwardly began to wheel himself out of the emptied classroom. “For fucks sake! Could you both wait several months to give me grandchildren!”

“Sorry, sir,” Peter apologised, an awkward hand making it’s way though his hair, though the incredibly close proximity between the pair of you certainly wasn’t helping the situation.

‘You saw this before, didn’t you Pumpkin?’ Your father’s thoughts floated into your own perception, a hint of curious teasing lilting at the corner of his question.

‘I never went through a rebellious phase, papa, can you blame me?’

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as Professor Xavier burst into laughter, his face falling into his hands.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader fanfiction #peter maximoff x reader imagine #peter maximoff fic #xmen apocalypse #xmen days of future past

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amorremanet · 7 years

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@apolloniae Okay, first: skffghfk, omg wow, thank you!! That means a lot, especially since this passage is all still early-ish in the writing process for me (like… it’s not as early as the borderline stream of consciousness first-person POV stuff that I was writing with this project last summer, but it’s still fairly early), and I consider it pretty rough still

THAT SAID. omg, dialogue is actually something I both love and dread writing, because I never feel like I have the best gauge on how much is enough or if I’m shoving in too much exposition with it or what, but! I have a couple things I rely on

Not-so-fun secret first: that particular section might be a pretty early draft, but I’ve still revised it something like four times, from jotting the initial idea down longhand, through the different typed versions of this scene that I’ve written (which have gotten changed around pretty significantly), and revisions help a lot with dialogue, in my experience. They can be anything from small stuff like figuring out a better word order but mostly keeping things the same, to taking a really sketchy outline (e.g., “A says something about B’s shoes, B thinks A is being rude and what is up with that, and C is just happy to be here, why can’t we all get along” or full on snatches of dialogue, but written in a way that doesn’t fit the characters) and building the scene up from there. Either way, revisions are a writer’s friend.

But, okay. Speaking more generally: the best place to start is just getting familiar with dialogue, both in real life and in fiction. You really do need both of these influences to write dialogue, because getting more familiar with how people speak IRL can help your dialogue feel realistic — and in some cases, it can be really important to have that verisimilitude, e.g. when you’re writing a bilingual or multilingual character and don’t want to fall into some of the more tired, unrealistic tropes of how multilingualism can manifest in people’s speech; and when you’re writing a deaf character (disclaimer that I’m not deaf, and this fic isn’t the be-all and end-all of how to do this well, but I really like the portrayals of Steve and Clint in, “Trump Diet” by caloriebomb on AO3, and they’re pretty well-researched and well-written portrayals of deaf characters).

On the other hand, though, only listening to how people talk IRL isn’t enough. You can learn a lot from that, for sure — especially when it comes to things like how people present themselves from situation to situation, and how their speech patterns or word choices can change in different contexts (from full-fledged code-switching, to more simple things like swapping in child-friendly substitutes for swear words when you’re with your godkids/younger sibling/grandma/whoever) — but you also need to look at how different techniques for writing dialogue work or don’t in order to figure out how to best present the dialogue so that it helps tell your story.

Different writers also have different strengths that you can learn from, e.g. JKR is really good at blending summaries of things the audience already knows into new scenes (like Harry witnessing the, “Snape brings Remus his Wolfsbane Potion” scene, then immediately running and telling Ron and Hermione), vs. Neil Gaiman’s ability to make dialogue read as realistic and natural even while his characters are talking about patently non-realistic things like magic and whatnot (which I think especially comes out in American Gods, but I’m biased because I’ve been rereading it in honor of the TV series starting), vs. the way that the late, great Terry Pratchett had of really making the dialects, accents, and so on a part of his characters, rather than something pasted on (JKR can also be good at that, but sometimes she goes a bit overboard). So, reading as much as you can is good, and paying attention to how the different writers use dialogue will help you write your own.

Unfortunately, a lot of dialogue-writing ends up being a, “play it by ear” sort of thing. You can easily overdo it with flowery dialogue tags, or repeating, “said” too much. Having too much action between bits of dialogue can bog down the scene, but not having enough can make it feel like nothing’s happening while these people talk (plus, what characters do or not during a conversation can help characterize them as much as, or arguably more than, what they say and how they say it).

One of the biggest pitfalls for a lot of writers is that we put too much dialogue in, usually focusing on the parts of conversations that don’t do anything to help show who the characters are or tell the story. Like, unless your characters have a particularly unique way of saying, “hello” (and showing that to the audience helps establish the characters for us), or there’s something important about how they answer questions like, “Nice day, isn’t it?” (e.g., the, “Wonderful weather this morning” / “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella” exchange from CATFA, because it’s not actually about the weather, but is the password into the secret SSR laboratory), or, “How’re you doing?” (e.g., your character is someone who doesn’t actually respond to that question with some variation on, “Fine, and you?”), then there’s a lot of dialogue that you can probably skip.

However, it can sometimes be difficult to tell where the too much/not enough line is, once you get past that — which really just goes back to the, “Revisions are your friend and you shouldn’t be afraid of them. They don’t mean you’re a bad writer; they’re a part of making your work stronger and telling your stories in the best ways for them” point.

Finally, though, the best rule of thumb is just knowing your characters. Knowing at least a few baseline things about where your characters come from and how they present themselves are helpful for finding their voices and keeping true to it in different scenarios. A character who excessively tries to mold themself according to what other people want them to be, or who unconsciously mirrors those around them, probably won’t have the same speech patterns as a character who doesn’t give a fuck what other people think of them, or who might give a fuck but is too tired/upset/intoxicated/whatever to censor themself effectively. Characters’ upbringings and backgrounds can also come out in their dialogue, so being (more or less) clear on them can be helpful.

One pretty classic example of these ideas is the trope where someone who’s going about in unfamiliar circles may be able to emulate other people’s behaviors, pick up the common speech patterns, verbal tropes, and lingo pretty well, and so on…… but still has a particular verbal tic or cadence to their speech that they can’t shake.

For instance, my Sebastian, from that passage, grew up in a wealthy family that would be minor nobility if the U.S. acknowledged that we totally have a de facto system of nobility (and his paternal grandparents often make a big deal out of how they’re descended from a legit, “Our ancestors earned their title as knights in the service of the King of France before certain well-to-do members of the Third Estate started buying their way up into our ranks, back before the glorious Ancien Régime was even a Thing” noblesse d’épée bloodline). He’s been around folks from a mix of different backgrounds during his time in school, and more so in his adult life, which has involved a lot of hijinks in places that would make his Grandparents go, “Good Heavens, why are you slumming it with the lower classes” before focusing on the actual issues like,, “Why on Earth were you dating an ecoterrorist” and, “Oh dear, our grandson who wanted to join the priesthood when he was a boy seems to have developed a serious problem with opiates”

Like, real talk? Roland and Cecile love their grandchildren, they really do. But when Sebastian went to rehab, they tried to push for sending him to a ridiculously expensive inpatient clinic in California with a huge, pedigreed list of celebrity clients because they thought of it as Rich People Rehab. The explanation, “No, okay? If I’m doing this, then I’m going to this place in Minnesota that exclusively hosts LGBTQ clients because I really don’t feel like I’ll be helped by potentially being around homophobic fellow patients and/or staff”…… was mostly met with blank stares that were the human equivalent of the, “buffering… buffering…” spinning wheel of doom, and the response, “…But going there will put you in treatment with the common rabble, why on Earth would you want that.”

Thankfully, Abe and Marceline, Seb’s parents, were nowhere near this bad — but that classism and the emphasis on how We Are From A Distinguished, Noble Bloodline, So Act Like It were still part of the atmosphere that Seb and his siblings were raised in. Their experiences in schooling moderated it a bit (though less so for, say, eldest brother Max, who went to Posh Boarding School for all four years of high school, then did his undergrad at Columbia and grad school at Harvard), and Seb got a lot of moderation by learning the hard way that sounding too posh in a decidedly not-posh environment is a dead giveaway that you don’t belong there and might get you mistaken for a Federal agent. But it’s hard to completely shake that posh upbringing, and it comes out sometimes in his phrasing, his word choices, etc.

On the other hand, though, Seb is also a human disaster in ways that affect his speech (…and he’s multilingual, but that doesn’t fall under the heading of, “human disaster things”). The trick with those parts of him — like his anxiety and how it kicks into overdrive in certain situations (like, when he’s talking to Stephen, his sponsor’s curatorial assistant, who Seb is crushing on) — is finding a balance where it’s part of his characterization but also doesn’t get completely impossible to read (like the mistake that some people make when writing characters with stutters, where they overdo it to the point that you can’t tell what the characters are saying, but because the writers didn’t do this on purpose, you’re expected to know what’s being said).

Anyway, I’m sorry this got kind of long, but I hope it helps a bit! Dialogue can be tough to work on, but you can learn a lot from experimenting with different ideas and techniques, and just continuing to work on it, even when you hate what you’re writing. ❤️

#apolloniae #replies tag #writing is hard #writing advice #dialogue #mine: writing #…and now i need to edit this so it won't be a huge mess of html fuck mobile #drugs ref// addiction ref//#long post//

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anonymousafterthoughts · 4 years

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This week has been PACKED with edits for Five Glass Flowers and navigating round one of the Feedback Phase of #WriterInMotion. First off, I was BLESSED to be paired with Jeff and Sara as Critique Partners for this round. They’re both writing Science Fiction as well and are familiar with some of the genre-specific elements I brought to my story. So a massive THANK YOU to both of them for their invaluable insight, suggestions, and, of course, for trusting me with their work as well.

Market & Genre: Science Fiction, Literary lean, Dystopian

Word Count: 1,210

Loose Comparisons & Inspirations: Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer, Orange by Ichigo Takano, and Inception.

Trigger Warning: Five Glass Flowers is set in a world with assisted suicide and touches on mental health. This isn’t fleshed out entirely at the moment, but it’s pretty obvious in this draft. The completed version will also allude to a light rail bombing (so, warn future you maybe) but this isn’t touched on yet.

I read the feedback side-by-side and made lists based on areas of concern: 1) what did both CPs like? 2) What was unclear to them? 3) Did the haunted, dystopian vibes come through? 4) Was everything balanced?

Most of the suggestions were minor–a need for clarity here, an awkward sentence there–but the real joy was seeing how they interacted with and processed the content. It’s been a LONG TIME since I’ve written any sort of science fiction, so I was concerned it didn’t fit enough within the genre or that the story, given its literary lean, might be confusing in some way. However, Jeff and Sara both swept those worries out the door! I love how Jeff came across the title of this chapter (The Janus Project) and did his own little research about it. I’d deliberately picked JANUS because it’s the name of the Roman God of doorways, time, transitions, and endings. I enjoy embedding meaning everywhere, and was tickled when Jeff picked up on this right away.

I also appreciated his attention to detail, such as pointing out the awkwardness of Asra’s position in the opening line or prodding me to elaborate on how the tally on the hologlass was discreet. His style of critiquing is similar to mine: stream of consciousness, reader reaction, and the occasional quill stab for needed edits (only I think he’s nicer at that than me LOL). Both Jeff and Sara has similar suggestions, which indicated certain things SANG and a few things SUNK, but I liked the consistency in feedback. For example, there’s a line where the narrator points out that priets “don’t usually help someone die” and both CPs countered that, technically, one could argue they DID. So I adjusted the sentence to flat out say suicide so that a line is drawn between guiding one to their natural death versus allowing something a priest wouldn’t normally condone.

Sara’s style was a little more sparse and less reader reaction, but her insight was so helpful to catching potential world-holes and unclear exposition. For example, I’d never explained the whole reason behind Asra having THREE Caseworkers during her year of mandatory therapy. At the time, I wondered if that kind of info was even needed and left it out because I didn’t want to drag the story down with too much setting/backstory. However, Sara’s feedback revealed how unclear that section of the scene was and the kinds of questions it raised. I really appreciated her attention to details like this, especially since I have a tendency to be either painfully vague or vomit details everywhere. Her feedback gave me an idea of where to balance hints and reveals. She was also great at catching some of those little typos that like to sneak in!

My biggest concern was the atmosphere. I was shooting for haunting, mysterious, and poignant. I didn’t want the disturbing aspects of the world to overshadow the inescapable strangeness colliding with Asra Aeilstrom’s life. I worked to deepen her own backstory (settling on a traumatic subway bombing) about where her affliction came from. The first two versions were too vague in doing this, I think. The atmosphere was there, but the characterization…wasn’t. So I guess that was, more or less, my second big concern. Sara and Jeff expressed wanting to know more about Oblivion and why Asra is seeking it, so I think, to an extent, I’ve achieved building her character, but will need to also add her backstory in throughout the next few revisions. Here’s the overall feedback received:

The Janus Project

The causes of death on the state-issued certificates gently floated along the tinted hologlass walls. Asra stared up at them with permanent conviction, dark sunglasses lessening the glare of light:

Xu Heng, 32, Inconsolable sorrow after absorbing displaced emotions.

Torin Thallos, 17, An uncontrollable desire to be full.

Lucho Gálvez, 23, The belief that nothing–including oneself–exists.

Ella Walsh, 47, A longing for things that cannot be named.

Lorne Thale, 50, Fell Hopelessly In Love With Annihilation.

Ian Ito, 38, Hysterical fear of drowning in air.

Every forty seconds, the certificates flickered out of existence, new ones appeared, and this cycle repeated. A discreet tally sat in the bottom right corner of the glass, where the day’s successful journeys to Oblivion tick, tick, ticked like a 24-hour clock: 66, 000. 70,200. 82,350. 93,800. The clock never seemed to stop, even after it reset to zero.

“It’s a painless, peaceful process.”

The office door hissed open and the Caseworker shuffled in. He gave Asra a reassuring smile, gray eyes shining with plastic empathy through crooked frames.

“Are they all…have they chosen to…” Die.

Asra tore her gaze away from the hologlass, and settled it on the pamphlet in front of her. She’d read it countless times in her year of therapy after she made her decision. It was a requirement to know all the available options, even if one couldn’t afford them. Or, in her case, want them. If she closed her eyes, she could recite the entire pamphlet word-for-word, and yet, she couldn’t even recall–

“They chose Oblivion.”

As if rehearsed to a habit, the Caseworker reached out to console her with a light squeeze of a gloved hand. This, too, Asra was familiar with; she’d had three Caseworkers before this—completely normal for those of her particular situation—but they all behaved the same: a pitying smile here, a kind hand there, voice never above what was considered appropriate for a funeral. Asra slipped her hands off the table and into her lap, trying not to look at the slash of scars across her fingers. The Caseworker said nothing as he pulled up her chart and settled into his seat. A clinical silence hung between them.

Somewhere down the hall, whimpering began. A tea kettle whistled. A cheerful voice called for the head psychiatrist over the speakers. Caseworkers walked down the halls as if they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did. The smell of something sterile clung to air. Fingers tapped against a tablet. The hologlass tick, tick, ticked with new certificates. Shifting in her chair—one of those hard, plastic ones bolted to the floor—Asra tried not to interact with her surrounds, to listen too closely, but restlessness prevailed.

Once again, her eyes scoured the room one last time: the glass box of an office (or counseling room, depending on who you asked), walls of frosted hologlass and floors of snowy quartz. Everything was bleached with the brightness of the UV lights overhead. Absently, she pushed the darkened shades she wore up the bridge of her nose and pulled the hood of her jacket over her forehead. The offices were always kept at a constant 59 degrees. She’d never thought to ask why.

At last, her gaze settled on the man across the desk. Like all Oblivion Caseworkers, or OCs as everyone generally called them, he wore the standard lapis lazuli tunic that covered him from neck to ankles. An inverted triangular insignia sat snug against his Adam’s apple, shifting every time he swallowed, which wasn’t often. The name tag on his chest said Julian, and she wondered, doubted, whether that was even his real name. The OCs all looked freakishly similar, almost like priests.

Except priests didn’t usually help people commit suicide.

Asra cleared her throat. It was a harsh sound in the manufactured silence of the office. Those silver scars on her hands seemed to gleam in the lighting. “How long will it take?”

“Less than the time you’ve been suffering.” Julian’s smile grew softer, more pitiful. “The Janus Project prides itself on providing only the most compassionate state-issued Oblivion in the country. It will only take as long as you need it to. You’ll be transported to the doorway at –” he checked the location on his tablet “–the Howlan House. It’s as close to the site of the accident we can get you. Everything you need is already there, including the funeral materials, and alternative pathways, should you want them.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s there if you do.”

“There’s no point to it.”

The words broke the air as a hoarse whisper. She pulled the cuffs of her sweater over her hands, blinking furiously as spots clouded her vision. Alternative pathways, she wanted to scoff. As if she were a candidate for Transplant or Reboot. Asra waited for anxiety to wash over her, as the pamphlets had warned, but none came. She searched herself for pangs of regret or second thoughts, but as always, she felt nothing. Even as she touched the tablet the Caseworker slid across the table, she could sense neither the warmth of where his hands had been nor the coldness of the glass. Not even the weight of it registered. She caught an unfocused glimpse of her cheerless pale face and muted green eyes on the screen, though she couldn’t be sure it was her face anymore; it was diluted with their images–a jagged collage of features that belonged to other versions of herself living in alternate worlds. Other versions she had, unfortunately, collided with that harrowing day.

And since then, she felt nothing of herself.

Sensed nothing of this world.

Remembered nothing of her life.

Nothing except November the 20th, but she didn’t want the memory.

“Given your…. situation…. we want you to be as comfortable as possible. When you’re ready for Oblivion, it will embrace you. You will find peace, Asra.” He sounded so sure, she had no choice, but to believe him. The Caseworker indicated to the tinted walls and nodded at the tablet. “Shall we announce it?”

She pulled the tablet closer and froze, a hollowness burrowing deep into her chest. Her thumb brushed the photo of a house in a twilight-kissed field, the black shadows of mountains hovering in the distance. She wondered if she would have once found it beautiful, the fireflies drifting up like falling stars caught in reverse, or what the breeze caressing the patches of weeds would have felt like. She couldn’t see the suspended railway of the old Muika train line over the water, but she knew it was there.

“It’s as close as we could get you to the Fragmentation Zone.”

A memory skipped across Asra’s mind–a kaleidoscope of twisted metal, the snap of bones against water, putrid smoke–before it faded back into the shoebox she’d buried it in. She blinked, waiting for a voice of reason to echo, to say live, live, live. But nothing came. Nothing but a wetness sliding over her chilled cheeks, dropping in time with the relentless tick, tick, ticks of the walls, and onto the glass tomb housing her death certificate:

Asra Aeilstrom, 26, Fractured, Irreparable feeling of being out of place & time.

Five Glass Flowers Playlist

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Writer In Motion | Round One of CP Revisions This week has been PACKED with edits for Five Glass Flowers and navigating round one of the Feedback Phase of #WriterInMotion.

#WriterInMotion #literary fiction #Science fiction #short story

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