athrialuxegna

[athrialuxegna]

Satan’s usually pretty chill in the way he runs Hell. Today he’s scrambling to make it look as miserable as possible because God is soon to visit

[athrialuxegna]

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[athrialuxegna]

i’ve started to think about ao3 audience interaction as kinda comparable to doing a live reading in an intimate little bookstore, like kudos are everybody who stayed til the end and applauded, comments are everybody who waited to come up to talk to you afterwards, and bookmark comments are the little snatches of conversation you overhear outside.

this helps me feel better/less anxious about responding to comments with some form of thanks, because if someone walked up to me in person and said they liked my work right after reading it, i would compulsively say thanks. it also helps contextualize audience size in a healthy way i think, bc most of us naturally crave more attention on our fic, but if we were actually in the room with even like 20 people applauding and five people waiting after to tell us how awesome we are we’d be fuckin elated.  

[athrialuxegna]

So I’m on AO3 and I see a lot of people who put “I do not own [insert fandom here]” before their story.

Like, I came on this site to read FAN fiction. This is a FAN fiction site. I’m fully aware that you don’t own the fandom or the characters. That’s why it’s called FAN FICTION.

[athrialuxegna]

Is and continues to be my favorite dance video. Dude’s so unexpectedly fluid.

> High score! What happened? Did i break it?

> You don’t see too many YouTube videos from 2005..

Weird to think that was almost a 10 years ago.

[athrialuxegna]

when shaw told erik to move the coin or he'd shoot his mom, he couldn't do it. it wasn't until shaw killed his mom (and laughed) that he was able to, and from that moment on erik associated his power with his anger. his entire identity was built upon it, believing that the only reason he was alive/survived was because of it. it wasn't until he met charles and was shown kindness/treated like a human being instead of 'frankenstein's monster' that he was able to unlock the full potential of his power. charles was the first person in decades that reached out his hand to erik and told him he wasn't alone. erik's mutation emerged because of his love for his mother, and grew stronger because of his love for charles. and idk that just gets me

[athrialuxegna]

if you’re ever about to comment on a writer’s work and think, oh, they probably know how good they are, you’re definitely wrong. every time a writer posts or publishes anything, no matter how many years they’ve been doing it and no matter how many readers they have, they are struck with the idea that perhaps they aren’t very good at all.

if you think you’re annoying for commenting, or that we won’t see your comments anyway, you’re wrong. we see your comments. we actively look for them. we are starved for them no matter how many we get. we remember them and they fuel us. leave comments, even if it’s just saying “oh i like this”. i see an “oh i like this” and my heart grows three times its size and i am seized with an urge to provide you more writing just to hear you say “oh i like this” again.

[athrialuxegna]

[athrialuxegna]

[athrialuxegna]

[athrialuxegna]

Being a writer be like

You forget to drink, eat, sleep, or go to the toilet

You’re super moody until you finish your godamn chapter that you’re working on till 3 a.m

No one can disturb you, not even your boyfriend who’s pissed at you because you’re writing 24/7, and practically ignore him

You think you’re finished, but your brain comes up with new fanfic ideas on fandoms you completely forgot about until now

You keep looking at your screen even though you wrote nothing. You even edit the title a hundred times to create the illusion that you’ve been productive in some way

When you’re looking for a playlist to listen to, you usually end up lost on YouTube because you’re lazy (and you know it!)

Your computer decide to be a dickhead when you’re struck by inspiration

You seek reviews, votes, or notes to boost your ego but you don’t want to admit it

You become obsessed with your stats, then realize that it means nothing at all

You try to keep up a schedule, but fail miserably

You overthink every sentence to find the right words, and all that shit, when comments debate about your character’s hair, which isn’t important at all for the plot or his exceptional redemption arc

You think about your self as God when you decide who lives and who dies, when in truth you just look like a freaking psycho typing frantically on a keyboard

You love your characters so much that you cry when you kill them, regret, and make them come back later, or change the plot completely to save them and kill another one

I began to write this for fun, turns out being a writer sucks, but it’s what makes it beautiful, don’t you think?

Feel free to add your own things, I might edit it later because there’s so much to say about writing, the list could go on forever!

#writer things #fanfic writer #writing #being a writer be like #writing sucks #I love it anyway #writerslife #writers are a mess #and amazing at the same time #writers are Chuck's clones I swear

[athrialuxegna]

I love this story so much, can't let it pass without reblogging. 💖

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 24,446 Fandom: Supernatural Relationships: Lucifer/Original Female Character

Summary: Chuck couldn’t leave with Amara before he fixed the mistakes he made with Lucifer. Sarah went looking for God and wound up as the devil’s babysitter.

(Alternate title: the Misadventures of Mary Poppins and Thor)

[athrialuxegna]

“Who’s the real you? The person who did something awful, or the one who’s horrified by the awful thing you did? Is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?”

— Rebecca Stead, Goodbye Stranger (via reveriiea)

[athrialuxegna]

Writing Agency in Hopeless Situations

This was prompted by a couple of people asking for clarification on the subject of survivor characters and agency.

I think a lot of writers assume that in order for a character’s actions or choices to have meaning in a story they need to be effective. That can add to this sense of not knowing what to do with a survivor character or a character who is trapped in a hopeless situation.

Whatever situation your characters are in and whatever they’ve survived I think it’s important that they have agency. The character’s hopes, dreams, wishes and actions are a big part of what make them seem like relatable people to readers. Without them characters can seem like two dimensional cut-outs or objects buffeted around by the plot.

This post is about helping you write characters with agency; characters who still have their dreams and still act in accordance to what’s important to them, even in the most hopeless situations.

What can your character practically do?

It sounds like an obvious question but bear with me.

Think about what your character is physically capable of in the situation they’re in. If they’re imprisoned then what’s in the cell? If they’re forced to work what materials or tools do they have access to? Is their movement or mobility restricted? Are they under surveillance and if so how closely are they watched?

Try writing a list of things the character has access to and another of actions they could potentially take. In a survivable situation*, however hopeless, characters are usually capable of more then you think.

What are the risks?

When deciding what your character does it’s important to try and gauge the risk from their perspective. Keep in mind that a character who’s imprisoned or otherwise has difficulty finding information might not have an accurate idea of the risks.

A prisoner might have spent every day of their sentence being told by the guards that anyone who escapes is instantly caught and turned in by the surrounding townsfolk. Only to escape and find the towns people going out their way to help hide them.

Once you’ve got an idea of how risky an act is think about what would make the character take that risk. Some of them might be willing straight off the bat. Some might need to wait for the right moment or need a narrative push to get them moving.

Focus on the character and don’t be afraid to experiment. If the situation isn’t working in the story change it, change the risks and see if that works better.

Effective vs Meaningful Action

As writers it’s easy to forget that our characters should fail sometimes. It’s often tempting to write characters or scenarios where everything becomes a success.

And I think that means we often confuse meaningful action with effective action. Acts that have no immediate or practical benefit can still be moving and can still tell readers a lot about the characters.

There’s a scene in Casablanca where the main characters come downstairs into a bar to find the occupying Nazi solders have taken over the piano and are singing about ‘the fatherland’. One of the main characters goes to the house band and tells them to play La Marseillaise (the French national anthem**.) The entire bar rises to their feet singing and drowning the Nazi’s out.

It’s one of the most moving scenes in the film but practically speaking it accomplishes nothing. The bar is immediately shut down. The main character is put in danger. The Nazis still hold Casablanca.

But now we (and they) know that hold is tenuous.

Once you know what your character can practically do think about what the character’s priorities are.

No, not the ones directly related to their survival. A well rounded character will always have more to worry about then that.

It could be their family, friends or supporters. It could be an ideal (religious or political). It could be outliving their captors or making the bastards regret catching them.

A desperate situation is a chance to show your readers what the character values most as well as showing off their personality.

Your character might not be able to speak to or help their child from jail. But a religious character could pray for them. A creative character might dream up stories to tell them when they get out. An influential one might find a way to smuggle letters out.

Any of those acts is meaningful to the character, even though they don’t have a practical benefit for the prisoner.

Agency when characters are constrained

The main thing I want readers to take away from this is that trauma shouldn’t make a character stop being a character.

If you’re choosing to have your character imprisoned, tortured or enslaved as part of your story that should put constraints on what they can do, but not who they are.

It is more work to come up with ways to show off a character when their actions are limited. You have to think outside of the box and you generally can’t fall back on tropes to help you through.

But it also leads to a more emotional and more engaging story. What your characters live through has more impact when they remain a person. Readers see them struggle and desperately try to hold on to the things which are important to them. They’re more relatable and human, readers connect with them more which helps bridge the gap of lived experience.

Treat it as a chance to be inventive. And don’t be afraid to have moments in your story that are more about the characters then the plot.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*Being restrained in a way that leaves someone completely immobile and unable to talk is not survivable if it’s kept up for several days. People can easily choke or suffocate when gagged. Patients in full body restraints tend to have heart attacks. I don’t know why that happens but it’s part of the reason these restraints are a last resort.

Edit: I did indeed forget to include the second footnote.

**There’s a conversation to be had here about the fact a marker of French identity is used as a rallying cry in a colonised north African nation but I think the point of the scene comes across nonetheless.

[athrialuxegna]

no, i don’t have a “dream job.” i want to spend my days reading and writing and lazing in the afternoon sun. i want to bake bread and brownies and apple crumble. i want to grow my own vegetables and plant a rainbow of flowers. i want to be with nature. i want to be at peace.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 5

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fanfiction  | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

Hi guys, I updated the last chapters so they seem nicer to read, tell me what you think about it in the comments. I also edited the links to the previous and next chapters as they were a total mess, sorry about that! I hope that you like this story so far, I try my best to readproof it, but some mistakes remain, my bad if it’s bothering you.

Thanks for those who lived a note on the previous chapters, it means at lot! -Lys

What was I doing? That question rang in my head as I made my way to the Child Care Service. I was not a fan of kids, they bothered me more than anything else. Their cries, tears, and temper tantrums were stress-inducing for me. They made me uneasy and self-conscious with their bluntness. As we all say, "truth always comes from a child's mouth" and that's what put me on edge. I didn't know what to expect of my babysitting day. Why did I accept such a thing? Eric, of course. I wanted to know if it was his idea or if it was just a sick joke on Max's part. One can never be so sure about others' intentions and hidden agendas. The leaders had the power to make everything possible within the walls of the headquarters. Why would they want me near orphans? That's what I intended to discover.

I played with my fingers, eyes fixated on the door decorated with drawings, tiny handprints, and a whole bunch of names. How many children find themselves alone every year? No idea, but it seemed that numerous of them had gone through that door to find a new home. It was not really surprising when we knew that their parents took risks on a daily basis.

Patrols in the factionless territory could turn bad pretty fast. The homeless didn't have anything to lose, they were determined to seek their revenge on the system that shut them down without any possibility to be part of it. I understood where they came from. They had to fight to live whereas all the other factions would sustain themselves without thinking twice about them. Except for the selfless Abnegation faction that helped them the best they could by providing them supplies, clothes, and from time to time, food. However, their violence had dire consequences in the Dauntless faction.

As the soldiers of the city, we were to protect and maintain peace in the streets. We were the first to suffer from the conflicts between Factionless and the system. These children were proof of that. I sighed deeply, my fingers caressing the weird painted animals.

" I'm glad you came here, they're really excited to meet you. "

Startled by Eric's deep voice, I turned around to find him, arms crossed, shoulder pressed against the wall a few feet away from me. A small smile stretched my lips, although I could tell that it didn't match my eyes. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of taking care of children. I have never done it before because I was always afraid to make something wrong and being an only child didn't help either. I swallowed thickly, trying my best to keep my cool in front of the young leader.

"Hey, I didn't know I was coming until now," I admitted in a whisper. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Don't be so tense, they're not that bad. I promise everything will be alright, they gave their word to behave." He reassured, eyes locked in mine.

"I'm not afraid of the children," I snorted softly. "I'm more nervous about me being around them..." I shifted my weight on my other foot before adding: "How do you do? I mean, with the initiates and… kids? " I asked, curious about his answer.

Eric snickered, I didn't expect him to be so confident and relaxed, it was as if he had done it his whole life. Which wasn't far from the truth, he had taken care of the initiates since he became a leader five years ago, if not more. I didn't keep track of time as often as I should considering my job but days were pretty much the same since I've been hired to be Harrison's assistant. I felt my cheeks burn and I looked at my feet, defeated that he mocked me for being a pansycake. Which I was, but still, it hurt.

"If I can do it, you certainly can, Chris. Come on, they won't eat you."

Before I could respond, Eric opened the door and made a sign for me to enter. I heard shuffling and whispers, all noises died down as soon as I was inside. The children lined up obediently, aware of Eric's presence behind my back. I felt intimidated under the scrutiny of their innocent eyes. They were of all different ages and sizes, some were almost teenagers.

"Hi," I waved, almost shy. "I'm Christine but you can call me Chris, it's nice to meet you all."

"Hi Chris." They exclaimed in unison.

One of the oldest stepped forward, his shaggy blond hair falling in his chocolate eyes. His joyful smile was contagious, I couldn't help but return it. However, his expression changed suddenly as he seemed to think about his next words. The younger ones kept gawking at me as if I was an alien coming from another dimension. I felt the tension rising in the room as the blond hair boy opened his mouth. Was he the leader of the group or something? Is this some sort of secret children cult?

It looked like it, and this boy gave me a lot of Eric's vibes. He held his head high, his torso pumped, shoulders behind. A future leader for sure... or another Brent. That thought made me frown. How could I compare him with this asshole without even knowing his name? It wasn't fair for the teen. I pushed away any unwanted images. Having a mental breakdown in front of the kids wouldn't do me any good. No doubt that Eric would report it to Max and I was good for an endless "vacation". The other kids looked at him with mixed expressions, some seemed about to explode from excitement or take a run at any moment to come back to their games, and some were tapping their foot impatiently as if waiting for a signal to be able to speak.

"Before we introduce ourselves and let you join us, you have to pass the test." The boy sounded much older than he looked at that moment.

My jaw clenched as I pictured Brent in his place. It was so easy to see the similarities between them. Were they related? If that's the case, I'll make sure to keep my distance. My eyes widened and I stole a glance at Eric who was smirking. He only shrugged his shoulders when he met my eyes. Damn him, he should have warned me beforehand.

"Depends on what this… test is."

What would they want me to do or say? The blond boy made a sign and all children moved in sync to gather around him, whispering between them to come to an agreement. What was that? After several seconds of heated debates, they finally took their original place. Mini soldiers, perfect future initiates, are already programmed to fulfill the faction's goals. Was it Eric's doing? All these questions drove me insane, I wanted to turn around and talk to the leader alone.

I needed some clarification on what's going on and the rules of this Child Care Service. While I was thinking of it, I didn't see any worker or nurse on my way here. Did nobody care about these kids? Was it a wicked way to push me to take the job? I was so lost that I didn't register that the teenager had taken another step forward, standing right in front of me. He was almost eye level to me, he had to be at least fifteen if not more.

"So, Chris. If you want to become one of us, you have to answer one question." The boy paused to look me dead in the eyes. "What do you think of Eric?"

I blinked a few times, unable to comprehend his question. He curled an eyebrow in defiance, a smirk playing on his lips. His expression matched Brent's perfectly, so much that I shuddered. Heat rose in my cheeks, coloring my skin a deep red, I felt hot and cold, shivers running down my spine. I gathered all my courage to not react when I caught a glimpse of satisfaction in his irises. I won't let this brat get to me that easily. In truth, I was a complete wreck Brent and the boy morphed into the same person in my mind, that same wolfish grin on their lips. I slapped myself mentally to snap out of it. I needed to answer that stupid question or else they'll consider me weak and that wasn't an option.

"Cat got your tongue?" Teased the teenager, arms now crossed over his chest, surely imitating Eric's posture, but lacking his charisma.

" No, I… I didn't expect that kind of question, that's all." I felt Eric's eyes boring into my skull from behind. "We don't work a lot together so I don't think I know him as well as you do, but I trust him, he's a good person, even though he's almost always in a bad mood. I also like his jokes." I added more quieter so that the leader couldn't hear me properly. "Don't tell him that I said that but, sometimes, he's not funny but I laugh anyway to not make him feel bad."

I think I gained some extra points with my remark because the kids burst into laughter, clutching their sides as if recalling the infamous jokes of Eric. I tried my best to smile when the blond boy extended his hand to shake mine. His hold was strong and confident, showing me clearly that I just entered his territory.

"Congratulations, Chris, you're welcomed in the CCS." He bent over to whisper softly in my ear. "Eric didn't lie, you truly are beautiful."

Stunned by his boldness, I stared at him, fear evident in my eyes. Wrong move. Something flickered in his eyes, a malicious glint that made me want to run for my life. What he said took time to reach my mind. Eric told him that I was beautiful? I blushed uncontrollably, his smile grew wider, believing that he was the one to have this effect on me. I opened my mouth to retaliate but he beat me to it.

"I'm Aidan by the way. I'm sure we'll get along very well." He called over his shoulder as he turned on his heels and joined the older ones.

Petrified, I jumped out of my skin when Eric's hand found my shoulder. He put it back right away as if I just burned him. His worried eyes plunged into mine and I knew that I was screwed again. Eric was able to pick up that something was wrong. Something that we couldn't discuss in front of the kids.

"Don't let Aidan get to your head, he just likes to mess with everyone. He's a good boy when you get to know him."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I replied dryly, unconvinced.

One by one, the children came to introduce themselves. There were so many names to remember and faces to attach them to, I started to feel a pounding headache making its way into my brain. At least, it helped me get my mind off Aidan and Brent. I already had a fan club following me like lost puppies around the room. Everytime I turned around they would hide behind furniture, playing innocent. This routine kept going for some time before I got tired of walking aimlessly. The only one following me without even hiding it was a little girl who hasn't said a word since my entrance. I crouched down to her level, a reassuring smile on my lips as she cowered a little from me.

"You didn't tell me your name before," I said gently.

She just looked at me, clutching a stuffed bunny in her tiny arms. Her emerald eyes were mesmerizing, I could almost drown into these pools of rich greenery, they were gradually lighter from the center to turn into a deep olive green on the outer ring.. She looked so small and frail compared to the others, I wondered what her story was. Seconds passed and she didn't try to make a sound. I finally gave up, it will take time for her to warm up to me that's all. I brushed her hair out of her eyes, revealing her porcelain skin.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, it doesn't matter."

To my surprise, she jumped into my arms and clung to me even when others wanted my attention. I sat in a chair, humming softly an old song from before the war. I didn't remember the lyrics nor the title clearly, but I could recall the melody anytime. The mute little girl was snoring in my neck as I rocked her back and forth. She dozed off minutes prior, lulled by my voice. I didn't realize that many children were sitting around us, listening and daydreaming.

Eric was sitting in a chair nearby, his hands behind his neck, eyes closed. He seemed different among the kids, less nervous and on edge, he didn't even have to raise his voice to make his point clear. The children surely respected him. The peacefulness lasted another twenty minutes before a knocking on the door stirred awake the few ones who had fallen asleep. I came back to reality, my hand entangled in the girl's brown hair. When did I begin to stroke her head? She looked comfortable on me, her hands held my shirt as if to prevent me from abandoning her. My heart ached painfully for her, she wanted affection and attention, as any of these kids.

"Chris." I looked up to see Eric towering above me, a knowing smile on his face. I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. "It's time for us to go, the next team is here to take over."

I admitted that I enjoyed my day here, as long as we forgot about Aidan. The girl in my arms shook her head, realizing that we were about to leave. Her fingers curled around my shirt, preventing me from putting her back down. I felt bad so bad that I hugged her back and whispered in her ear.

"I'll come back, I promise."

She refused to let me go as I tried to pry her off. I kept murmuring sweet nothings to ease her pain to no avail, she was stubborn as a honk. Eric approached and tried to take her with him but she fought back, crying silently. I didn't know what to do so I let the leader take matters in his hands.

"Violette, look at me." The brunette looked at him with teary eyes, he gently wiped her tears away. "You know that we can't stay all the time here, we have to eat, work and sleep, too." Violette nodded slightly. "We'll come back before you know it, now Martha will take care of you. I heard that she has a gift for you, one that you wanted for a long time."

Violette's face brightens at the prospect of a new toy. She kissed my cheek then wriggled in my grasp. I put her down and she ran straight to Martha who was ushering the elders towards the bathroom. A contented smile crept upon my lips, kids were so fast to change their minds. I envied their ability to forget about their problems as long as they had anything to play with.

"Fear of abandonment, a hard one to fight against at such a young age." Commented Eric beside me. "They're stronger than most of the initiates that I've trained so far."

"That's not right, they're still kids, Eric."

"I know. I don't like it either, but it's their way of processing what they've been through. They grow up faster than the other kids, they have to look after themselves because they know no one will do that for them. I try to be there whenever I can, it's obviously not enough, you know how a leader's agenda is full."

"I can help." I blurted out before I could think of it.

"That's not why I brought you here." He replied without explaining further as we made our way out of the room.

"Thanks, that was… interesting and surprisingly calming."

"I knew you'd like it. So, you'll come back?"

"Sure, I don't have anything better to do anyway."

"Right."

A casual silence followed our little conversation. My thoughts were drifting away when he spoke again.

"What did Aidan say to you?"

"Nothing to worry about, he was just being a teenager." I dismissed with a flick of my hand.

"Don't lie to me, Chris. I saw the fear in your eyes." His tone grew cold. "What did he say?'

"That's not what he said," I whispered. "He kind of reminds me of Brent. I don't know why but I don't feel safe around him. Damn, I'm ten years older, I shouldn't feel like this." I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to keep my composure.

Eric remained silent as I stopped dead in my tracks before we came close to a more crowded walkway. He turned his head with an eyebrow raised in question. I sighed, debating whether I should talk to him or simply keep my struggles to myself. He must have sensed my hesitation, he tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing to read into my soul.

"Stop doing this."

"Doing what?" He retorted, genuinely clueless.

"Your "I'm reading your mind look", it's quite annoying." Eric rolled his eyes.

"Then stop thinking that I'll report to Max whatever you say or do, and talk to me instead of overthinking. "

That was my turn to fall into silence, his face softened ever so slightly and I felt guilty. He helped me before I even was aware of it, I should be grateful and trust him, but I couldn't because I didn't trust myself anymore. At least, not for now.

"Chris, I've already told you that seeking help doesn't make you weak nor unworthy. "

My heart skipped a beat, was this his way of saying to let him help me? His cerulean eyes screamed sincerity. Why was he caring so much about my well-being?

"Thank you, Eric. I'll keep that in mind." He nodded curtly. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Meet me here at four, we'll go together."

"Sounds good. " We shared one last look, then we parted ways.

#ericxoc #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #divergent fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #four #eric divergent x oc #eric coulter x oc

[athrialuxegna]