#just doing lots of research on stories i won't actually be writing :

[night-raven-tattler]

Say hi to daddy!

Summary: How would these characters behave as fathers? What does their ideal family look like?

Characters: Heartslabyul dorm (Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater)

Other parts of the series: Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia, Royal Sword Academy

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

He has so many shelves filled with parenting books everyone thinks he's preparing for writing his own study on parenting

Riddle is the type to panic whenever his child does things that are not written in the books or they don't pass certain milestones according to the research he's done

On one hand, Riddle is a logical man, who knows not all children all the same

On the other hand, he has no idea what good parenting actually looks like, so he assumes everything that goes "wrong" is his fault

For Riddle, parenting will be a journey full of a lot of growing and healing, healing his inner child especially

While hesitant to interact with his child at the beginning due to not wanting to snap at them unintentionally, once he's eased into it he'll become very attached

Riddle will be a little pushy when it comes to school at some point, but it comes from a place of care, and he will spend as much time as needed to tutor his child for any subject and reqard them when needed

He has scheduled play time, naps, meals and the occasional strawberry tart from uncle Trey when the child reaches an appropriate age

I can see Riddle as a boy dad and having only 1 child (that he, unfortunately, dresses like a small victorian child), 2 kids would be a bit too overwhelming for him

『••✎••』

Ace is, hands down, the fun parent

Always taking care of the tasks that involve more fun having than care taking, Ace is the go-to parent for when any child is upset and crying

Card tricks, stories with fun voices, playtime that crosses curfew by a few minutes, his personal mission is to make his children have fun and enjoy things

When they get older, they'll have to learn how to deal with Ace's honesty and his roundabout way of telling them he cares about them

Ace is not a person to hold back from saying what he thinks, so both him and his children will have to find a middle ground in order to not hurt each other

For Ace, parenting will become the perfect opportunity to become gentler with his words, and his love for the people he cares about will finally have a good place to go to

Once the kids are old enough, prank wars become a thing in the household

Not even poor uncle Deuce who drops by after work is free of the classic whoopee cushion

Ace definitely has a daughter, and no more than 2-3 kids

『••✎••』

If the dictionary had a picture next to "girl dad", it would be a picture of Deuce

He is the most gentle, most nervous parent out of his Heartslabyul dormmates

While he is not huge on looking into parenting books, he asks his mother for advice at least once a day

Until one day, when things just start flowing naturally and the parental instinct fully kicks in

When his babies get fussy, he likes to take them out on walks, to feel the calming wind and see the pretty sky

He slowly introduces all of his kids to blastcycles and taking them on small trips, even though he might get scolded himself for that

Deuce goes from being afraid of breaking his precious little babies to being a lover of roughhousing

Who would've thought that Deuce's feisty personality would also go to his kids to some degree? /s

Deuce is very afraid of finding out one of his kids is going down a darker path and becoming less appreciative of the things around them

While it will be a struggle and it will throw Deuce into an identity crisis, he'll do what he knows best: he won't give up on them, and keep loving them until they learn their lesson

If Deuce is capable of change, anyone is

Deuce is a family man, he'd love a few kids, not any more than 4 though

『••✎••』

Trey is the kind of parent who loves carrying around his children everywhere he goes, even while doing errands

He has baby chairs and carriers all over the house, and a bunch of baby sized kitchen accessories

Trey introduces cooking and baking to his children very early: they have special utensils that they know how to use from the age of 3

Some might think it's extreme, but Trey is determined to build their independence from a young age

He is kind of the picture perfect dad, not gonna lie: he is caring, stern but not strict and is the epitome of gentle parenting

He encourages his children to be creative, inside and outside of the kitchen

And he praises anything his kids show off to him

Yeah, he is the parent who puts drawings up on his fridge and stuff

Trey sometimes brings the kids to the bakery to increase the number of customers through some sweet displays of family time

If you ask him, he'll say it was uncle Cater's idea, but he's lying

Trey would definitely lean towards a bigger family, maybe 6 kids at the most, since he will get the hang of daddy-ing quite fast

Plus, uncle Che'nya is a very eager babysitter

『••✎••』

I really think Cater is into the new dad aesthetic

Posting pics of him and his new baby on Magicam, with the kid holding onto his finger with their tiny hand, with their first blankie, meeting uncle Trey for the first time

But he always keeps their face out of the picture or blurs it

Cater loves dancing between sharing his joys on social media and maintaining some privacy for his child until they are old enough to tell him if they want their picture to be posted

Cater is a fun dad all around: he loves going on small trips, piggy back rides, rocking his kiddo to sleep

He attends parenting classes before having his first child, and enjoys interacting with the local new mommies committee

Unfortunately, he is a bit reserved when the child becomes fussy or upset

Old habits die hard, and he knows he has to be open with his child for the betterment of their relationship

...yet, he is scared of being hated by his own child

It's terrifying, especially in the moments when his baby calls for their dad, and Cater gives in and starts soothing his little one

It's a struggle, not gonna lie, but Cater is willing to make baby steps

One child is enough for Cater, and he is definitely a boy dad in my eyes

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader

[circeyoru]

I just love all your unwanted soul content it's hilarious and cute I was wondering if you could do my request if you can

What would happen if reader gave this really cool radio to alastor in one of their dates and he accidentally leaves outside in the hotel lobby and someone breaks it

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Thank you for saying that! So happy to see you guys like my writing and story!! Happy to do the request, no worries! Just takes time~

A cute and maybe angsty moment then.

I'd say Reader/you designed the radio by yourself after long hours of research. You have actually taken apart radios before and summoned ones with your pages. But to actually gift one to Alastor, you won't and I mean will NOT settle for a summoned gift. Even though Alastor will take anything you gift him like it's a treasure from a lost century. You have a thing for giving the perfect gift and seeing the receiver's face light up like a Christmas tree. In Alastor's case, it's very very extreme affection, not that you're complaining, he makes you feel very reassured to be liked by someone you care for.

Alastor knows you put a lot of attention to the gifts and plans you make, so he takes extra care not to offend you. He did before and got your passive aggressiveness, passing it off as being 'moody' until you were like "Oh we don't need that since you think it's a waste of time!". He apologized quickly and right the wrong. Though sometimes it's just you wanting to cool down since Alastor made sense in his view.

The radio gift in question would be a mix of the two of your colours, with deer antlers at the top and feathers below. Both are symbols of you two. You added the voodoo symbols that would appear around Alastor to the surface of the radio too. How you got them was by observing Alastor very very closely when he got annoyed or angry or a bit bloodthirsty. Alastor treasures it so. He fainted when he first got it. Took him a while to regain consciousness and he nearly fainted again when you showed him it was channeled to his screaming broadcast.

Yeah... Him leaving it in the lobby was a big mistake. I imagine he was listening and staring at it while you were out or just didn't want him around (like maybe bathing?), so he got the next best thing. The precious gift you gave him, made by your delicate hands. How he left it unattented, uhhh, maybe Charlie asked for something or maybe there was another random attack on the hotel.

(it wouldn't be the hotel crew that breaks it cause it's obvious to them that was a big no no)

Either way, Alastor saw that the radio was broken.

Haha. Alastor's gonna be the big bad wolf. He destroys anything in sight while his giant hands cradle the broken radio that was his. Charlie and the others definitely tried to reassure him they'll help fix it. It'll be good as new!

Impossible! You took weeks learning about radios and months perfecting this! He saw glimpses of it, but gave you privacy so the built-up surprise was even better when you gift it to him. Now? Now it's BROKEN! HOW DARE!

When you came back and found Alastor in his raging mode, you were confused. Charlie immediately rushed over to you to ask for your help, you asked her to explain first since Alastor wouldn't be like that for no reason. Ahh, so someone broke the radio you gave him. Luckily, it was made by your hand, so nothing you can't fix.

You got over to Alastor and called out to him. You didn't even need to shout loud and his eyes snapped to you. He leaned down, his eyes showing you shame and sadness that no one else would be able to tell. You told him to show you the radio, he shakingly did, partly scared that you'd yell at him for not taking care of it.

But you knew how much attention he put into catering the gift after he got it. It was like a mother treating a newborn. So you got your pages ready and fixed it in a flash.

You hugged onto the renewed radio and smile, "Now why don't you blow off some steam, don't take too long."

And Alastor was off to deliver judgment.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

[totowlff]

le temps fera les choses

➝ request: you could write a story where toto and reader are divorced [...] drunk toto calls reader and just rambles about life and how he misses her and everything, or if you wanna go further

➝ word count: 8,5k

➝ warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, an overprotective reader and a lot of real life references

➝ author’s note: well, working with the idea of divorced!toto turned some gears in my head and this one shot was born. it was inspired, in a way, by the song le temps fera les choses, by angèle, and the text even has some references to the lyrics, so don't be surprised. toto's aunt is actually called elisabeth, and given my commitment to reality, i kept it that way (a happy coincidence, i won't deny it). hope you enjoy!

Looking at the man on the seat in front of you, part of yourself refused to believe you were doing this. “This is insanity”, you could hear your mother's trademark accusatory tone of voice telling you. You know she was right, even as a voice inside your head, but there you were, sitting across from your ex-husband, watching him completely absorbed in that day’s edition of the Financial Times, as you sat on his private jet, en route to Sardinia.

Your story with Toto began in the fall of the year 2000, at the gala opening of an exhibition at an art gallery in the center of Vienna. You had earned your Masters in Art History, and had always been enchanted by antiquities, and had done extensive research on the history of antiquarians in Vienna. Your research led to an invitation given personally by Elisabeth Sturm, daughter of Czesław Bednarczyk, one of the most prominent antique dealers in Vienna, and the subject of a paper you were writing for your PhD.

You just had no idea that what she invited you to discuss wasn’t your paper, or the pieces on exhibit.

— You know, Y/N, my son also recently graduated in contemporary art and has a great interest in post-war pieces, just like you — she said, as she led you through the multitude of guests with a wide smile on her face.

After passing by a couple she seemed acquainted with, and greeting a friend of many years, Elisabeth finally found who she was looking for. Nodding toward two men holding champagne flutes, you walked over to them with her. The words of the specialist in eighteenth century pieces became distant murmurs in your head as your eyes were fixed on one of them, who seemed to be looking at you with curiosity.

— Alex, honey, I want to introduce you to Y/N Y/L/N. She's doing a doctorate in Art and Economics at Die Angewandte, so she’s doing some research on the city's antique shops — Elisabeth said, smiling — Y/N, this is my son, Alexander. He is working on his masters’ at the University of Vienna in contemporary art, but I am sure that you will find a lot to talk about.

You forced a smile, offering your hand for a handshake. He was the same height as his mother, with carefully combed-back brown hair and stern dark eyes.

— It's a pleasure — you said.

— The pleasure is all mine — he said.

Then, your gaze returned to the man who had caught your attention. He was much taller than Alexander, but had dark hair and dark eyes that were similar to Alexander’s. The two of them definitely looked related, but there was something tender about the way he was looking at you.

— And this is Torger, my sister’s son, who just arrived back in Vienna from the United States. California, right?

— That's right — he replied, his deep voice flowing through you in a warm wave — San Francisco.

—  Remind me, what you were doing there again, Torger?

— Learning about the business side of the technology industry — he said, smiling — By the way, you can call me Toto. Nobody calls me Torger.

— Your dziadek calls you Torger — Elisabeth muttered, something bitter in her voice.

— Good to know that dada still remembers me — Toto muttered, before taking a sip of champagne — Even though it's probably just to call me ungrateful because of the fucking tuition he paid when I was 12...

— Well, is he wrong? — Elisabeth growled, before looking at her son, who seemed to be silently begging her to control herself — And it's no use looking at me like that, Alex, you know it's true.

— We don't need to discuss this here, mom.

— No, no, your mother should speak her mind, Alex — Toto said, giving his aunt a challenging smile — I don’t mind at all.

— You should be much more grateful to your dziadek, Torger. If it weren't for him, you would never have finished school, much less...

— Gotten that internship at the bank, I’ve heard all of this before, auntie — he replied — But that doesn't change the fact that he was an asshole who disowned my mother for marrying my father.

Elisabeth took a step forward, one finger raised.

— Be more careful with your words, Torger — she said through clenched teeth.

— Mom, please — Alex said, placing himself between Elisabeth and his nephew — Let's get you something to drink.

After some protest on her part, the woman finally agreed to accompany her son, who apologized before taking Elisabeth away from them. Alone beside Toto, the silence between the two of you stretched for a few seconds before your gaze met.

— Are your family gatherings always like this? — you asked, making him smile.

— They're usually worse — Toto replied, making you laugh.

It was the first of many times that night that he would make you laugh.

You didn't see any more of Elisabeth or Alexander that night, and you didn't want to. You only had eyes and ears for Toto, listening to him talk about his trip to San Francisco and the investment he had made in SMS.AT, the country's most-visited website, as well as asking you about your background and life in general.

— Do you have a boyfriend? — he asked you.

You both stopped in front of a sculpture of a woman on her knees with bitter tears in her eyes, you suddenly felt nervous.

— What do you think?

— I can’t imagine someone as intelligent and beautiful as you being single.

You chuckled weakly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

— I'm sorry to say that I am. Not everyone is willing to spend hours listening to me talk about old things sold by old people.

— Well, I am — he said immediately, in an almost boyish rush to demonstrate that he was, in fact, interested in what you had to say. And it was at that moment that you were sure that what you were feeling was not simple anxiety or infatuation.

You were falling in love with that man.

— Find something interesting? — someone said, bringing you back to the present, your gaze meeting the same pair of mischievous brown eyes from that night at the exhibition.

— There’s an article about an exhibition of Yayoi period artifacts from Japan — you replied, making Toto turn the cover of the newspaper to find the article you were glancing at.

— Asian art? I thought your interests were more in Europe — he said, the corners of his lips curling up mischievously.

— Nothing wrong with learning all I can, Toto — you replied, turning your face away when you heard the sound of someone shifting in one of the other seats. Sleeping with her head against the window was the most important person in your life.

Magdalena. Your daughter with Toto.

Born just over four years after that night at the exhibition, she was the tangible symbol of the love you felt for each other at one time. She had your nose and her father's charming smile. Lena, as you called her, was a girl with a strong personality. She was incredibly intelligent and particularly observant. Nothing went unnoticed by her brown eyes, not even your indecision in participating in that trip.

You took off your seat belt and walked over to your daughter to check on her. After putting a blanket over her and taking the book she was reading before falling asleep from her hands, taking care to mark the page she had stopped on, you took a few seconds to watch her.

There had been many times when you had felt that you didn't have the strength to continue wearing the many hats you did: university professor, gallery curator, private consultant for antique dealers and private collectors. However, Lena was your motivation to keep going. She was the reason that you got up early and went to bed late, after correcting piles of academic papers. She was the reason you signed on the bottom line of a legal document to put an end to yours and Toto’s marriage on a gray winter day so many years ago.

— You don't have to watch her like you did when she was a baby — Toto murmured behind you. When you turned around, you saw that he had folded up his newspaper and that it was sitting in his lap. 

— I'm just making sure she's okay — you replied, running a hand through her hair before returning to your seat — After all, we're here because of her.

Toto smiled.

— Indeed. Always for her.

That trip wasn’t planned very far in advance, but it was the result of Lena's excitement at having achieved excellent grades in the Reifeprüfung, the end-of-school exams that students in Austria took to graduate.

 Sardinia was her favorite place in the world and she wanted nothing more than to go and enjoy the sun and the sea with the two people she loved most in the world. You hesitated, after all, it had been years since you had gone there with her and Toto.

You were capable of giving up anything for Lena, even your own promise of never flying anywhere with your ex-husband again. There was nothing you wouldn't do for your daughter's happiness.

The rest of the flight was quiet, with Lena waking up near the end of it. Her messy hair earned her a good-natured jab from Toto, which his daughter returned to him in kind. The interaction made you smile, after all, it was just another proof of how similar your daughter was to her father, even though she hadn't had his constant presence since she was five.

“Genetics are impressive”, you thought to yourself as the captain of the jet asked over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts in preparation for landing in Olbia, in the north of the Italian island. However, contrary to what you thought, Toto had not chosen to book suites in a nearby hotel, but in a more distant location. It was all to preserve the privacy he had lost when he decided to dive headlong into the world of Formula 1.

His passion for motorsport wasn’t ever a surprise for you, after all, since the first night you’d met him, Toto had been talking about how he competed in junior formula racing, just for fun. However, nobody could have predicted that buying some shares in a Formula 1 team that seemed  to be on the brink of bankruptcy would lead to him being the team principal and part-owner of one of the largest, most prestigious teams in the sport, almost a celebrity in his own right.

However, the attention brought him unwanted problems, especially with the paparazzi, who insisted on photographing him in private moments during his rest days, even more so when he was with Lena. In the end, the further away from the hustle and bustle of the island's busiest cities, the better.

He and Lena had chosen a resort in Valle dell'Erica, which had a small network of luxury villas connected to the main building by stone paths traveled by golf carts. After settling into a golf cart with your daughter, Toto sat in the driver's seat, asking the concierge to ride the front cart with the bags.

— Are you taking us camping? — Lena asked, after a few minutes of meandering through the compound's tree-lined paths.

— No, I'm not, though I think a few days away from your cell phone wouldn't hurt you, would they? — he replied, laughing — We're going to one of the villas that’s the furthest out, to make sure we don’t get a repeat of last time.

— You mean when my classmates saw your pictures on the yacht and started asking if you were still single? — she murmured, forcing you to try and hold in a laugh. You would never forget the way Lena recounted, indignant, the way her schoolmates were talking about her father.

It was useless to deny that Toto was a handsome man. With his piercing eyes, broad shoulders, and imposing height, you'd been drawn to him since the first time you'd seen him in the gallery. And as much as you wanted to deny it, the power he wielded over you hadn't diminished with the divorce.

If you were honest with yourself, it had only grown.

— I'm not to blame for anything, mon bébé...

— Just don't walk around… Dressed like that — she replied.

— Like that?

— With only a pair of shorts on, especially those shorts — Lena said, making her father laugh.

— Bébé, it's just a pair of shorts...

— They were pink! They’re way too flashy for someone your age!

— You’re talking as if I’m just some decrepit old man, Lena.

— Maybe not decrepit, but definitely an old man who shouldn’t be wearing pink shorts.

He brought the cart to a stop as the concierge, in front of them, opened a red gate.

— I bet your mom likes my flashy shorts — Toto murmured, glancing at you and you just rolled your eyes.

— I don't care about your shorts, Torger.

— You used to  — he replied, revving the cart again.

— But I don't anymore. And honestly, you shouldn't care either, Lena. Your father is probably just going through a midlife crisis like every man has at some point. Don't be surprised if he shows up one day with your name tattooed on his arm, or riding a Harley-Davidson.

The statement made your daughter burst out laughing, while Toto shook his head, as if disapproving of your idea of him during a midlife crisis.

Well, a second midlife crisis.

Toto stopped the golf cart just behind the concierge, who was unloading your bags with the help of another employee. After you disembarked, the man invited the three of you to join him as he showed you your villa. With a living room richly decorated with colorful paintings and vases made by local artisans, three suites and spacious balconies overlooking the private pool, as well as the sea in the distance, the place felt like something out of a dream.

— Anything you need, we're here for you.

— Thanks — you replied, smiling.

Finally alone in the living room, the three of you looked at each other silently, as if waiting for someone to say something. Then, after looking at his watch and running a hand through his dark hair, Toto cleared his throat.

— So, what do you ladies want to do first? — he asked.

Looking at the orange tones that took over the sky, you smiled.

— I think we can start by figuring out where everyone will sleep.

— Dad can have the exterior room, right? — your daughter said.

— Why do I have to stay in that room? — Toto asked, his voice full of faux-outrage.

— Because mom and I are girls — Lena replied, linking her arm with yours — And girls always stay together on trips.

Your ex-husband couldn't hold his feigned disappointment for long.

— Okay, you can stay together. Just don't bring any boys here — he said, as he grabbed the handle of his bags and turned toward the door.

— What about men? — you asked, defiant. As he looked over his shoulder, something inscrutable flashed in his eyes.

— No men either, Y/N — he said as he left the villa’s main hall.

Giggling with laughter, you planted a kiss on Lena's forehead before telling her to go and put her bags in her room. After seeing her going through her bedroom’s door, it was your turn to make your way to your quarters, dragging your well-used suitcases noisily behind you. After setting them down in front of the small wooden cupboard, you allowed yourself to slump onto the soft mattress, closing your eyes.

The fact that you were on this trip was crazy.

The days dragged on at an excruciating pace, even though you were on vacation. As much as seeing Lena happy to be together with her father and mother on a trip after years was satisfying, but something was making you feel set on edge.

You couldn't say what it was, but you were sure it was related to how Toto was treating you. Unlike the interactions the two of you usually had, filled with sarcasm and acidity, the way your ex-husband was speaking to you was almost… sweet, delicate. He had even asked you to dance during a dinner in Porto Cervo, when the musicians started to play the music that had played during your first dance as husband and wife.

— I remember that night like it was yesterday — he murmured.

— Do you? — you asked quietly, as you felt his hand firmly hold yours — I thought you had too much on your mind to remember that.

He smiled.

— I could never forget the day my life changed, Y/N.

You should have guessed that this was just a strategy, a way to get you to drop your guard to deliver the final blow the next night, over dinner at one of the resort's restaurants. Silently, Toto, who was wearing one of his white monogrammed shirts and comfortable linen shorts, placed his silverware on the plate of ricotta ravioli and looked at Lena.

— Mon bébé, I know we're here to celebrate but I can't help but ask you about your plans — he said, with a serious expression — Have you chosen what you're going to study yet?

Your daughter wiped her mouth with her napkin, as she finished chewing.

— Well, I was talking to mom these days about it and I would really like to work on something related to international studies. You know, diplomacy.

— Diplomacy?

— You know, I learned how to be a mediator at home — Lena murmured, giving you a mischievous little smile. In a way, she wasn't wrong, after all, Lena had always been the person that balanced you and Toto, putting out the fires you started, especially because of her upbringing.

— And have you researched universities, bébé? — Toto asked, before taking a sip of wine.

— Mom gave me the contact information of some professors in the Political Science and Philosophy departments at the University of Vienna to schedule a visit and learn about them — she replied — Why?

— Well, I was thinking that maybe, if you wanted to, you could apply to a university outside of Austria.

You swallowed hard, the hands that held the cutlery going cold.

— Do you mean — your daughter babbled.

— Well, you know that I live in Oxford and there is a university of international prestige there, which has formed dozens of important figures in world history. American presidents, British prime ministers, kings, Nobel Prize winners. Perhaps you could…

— Study there? — Lena completed, looking impressed by the offer. Toto smiled.

— Exactly.

— But, I would need a place to stay…

— Magdalena, don't be ridiculous, you know you can live with me there. In fact, I would be very happy if you would move in with me while you're in Oxford. What do you think?

Your heart was racing in your chest, the cutlery clenched in your fists. You felt like you were going to explode with rage at any moment, jaw clenched. You couldn't believe your ex-husband had been capable of such a dirty move. But, you weren't going to let him win, not that night.

— Bullshit — you said, before Lena could process the question — That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard, Torger.

— I was talking to Lena.

— She doesn't need to bother answering — you said, gruffly — She's not going to England.

— Mom — your daughter said, in a warning tone.

— What? Do you really think this is a good idea?

— Of course it's a good idea, Y/N, Oxford is a great — Toto began to argue.

— I don't care if Oxford is a good university, Lena won't go to England — you interrupted him, in a cold tone — And that's not open to discussion.

— But, mom...

— No buts, you're not going, Magdalena.

— Why not? — asked Toto.

— Because I will not let my daughter go to a foreign country alone, without any help or support…

Toto snorted.

— Y/N, did you really think Lena would be alone? Did you forget that I live there?

It was your turn to laugh.

— You live — you said, making air quotes with your fingers — Let's not be naive, you spend more time traveling than in that slum of yours in Oxford.

— Mom!

— For your information, my house is in one of the best areas of Oxford and has more than enough space for me and Lena — Toto spat.

— It’s not about space, Torger, I won't let her be alone there while you’re gallivanting around the world, playing with your cars!

— Would you rather she be left alone in Vienna while you play with your ancient junk collection? — he returned, venom dripping from his voice.

That sent a hot wave of anger up the back of your neck, your jaw clenched. Everything you had done had been for Lena. All the hours of work, all of the writing, research, assistant teaching, grading, earning your PhD, and working your way up in the university to be a respected, tenured professor, it had all been to provide for the life you two led in Vienna, as had been agreed upon during the divorce proceedings. Of course, the workload eventually took you and Lena apart physically, but that didn't lessen the love you felt for your daughter.

In fact, it only made it grow. And it was that love that made you get up, dropping your cloth napkin on the floor, jabbing your finger at your ex-husband.

— You watch your mouth talking about my work, you son of a bitch! — you snarled, causing several pairs of eyes to turn towards your table.

— Mom, for God's sake! — Lena exclaimed, trying to lower her hand — Everyone's looking at us!

— Let them look, Magdalena! — you spat — Let them know I'm not going to let this idiot say whatever he wants about my job!

— I just was repeating what you said, Y/N — Toto replied in an ironic tone.

— Dad! — your daughter growled, before looking back at you — Please, mom, calm down. Sit, please.

Annoyed, you settled back into your chair, your jaw set in anger. Your ex-husband looked at you with a certain cynicism in his eyes, as if he knew he had touched your most sensitive point. Beside you, Lena let out a sigh, as if trying to collect her thoughts.

— Is it really that hard for you not to fight like two kids? — she asked seriously.

— Lena — you stammered.

— No, mom — she said coldly — You promised that you wouldn't fight with dad on this trip, that you'd be nice. You promised me, mom.

— Bébé, please — Toto tried to interfere.

— Don’t bébé me, dad! — Lena exclaimed — You also have your share of blame. I asked you to be polite to my mother, not to make comments like that, to be understanding…

— I am being understanding, Lena!

— Being understanding is calling her work a joke? That’s your idea of being polite? — she asked, before turning to you, as if anticipating you were going to say something — And that goes for you too, mom. You two are acting like fucking children!

You thought of scolding her for her language, but you weren't able to, especially when you noticed that her eyes were wet.

— I just wanted that we could be a family, without these stupid fights over stupid things. You think about me so much that you forget that I think too, that I also have wishes and desires — Lena continued — It never crossed your minds that I don't want the same thing as you? That I don't want to stay in Vienna or go to England?

Your eyes met Toto's, guilt filling your chest. You always wanted Lena to have the freedom to do whatever she wanted, to fly even higher than you and your ex-husband. However, in your eagerness to provide a life full of experiences, you had forgotten the main thing, which was Lena herself.

— Lena — you said, watching her wipe away a tear that had trickled down her face.

— I just wanted you to stop thinking about yourselves and think about me — she spoke in a choked voice — That you would consider my opinion before deciding things for me.

— But we'll always consider your opinion — Toto said, reaching out a hand toward your daughter, who shrank away.

— Then why did you say you were going to take me to England?

— I — he hesitated, looking at you and then at Lena — I wanted to offer you a different experience, in a different country, in a different culture. I didn't think your mom would be so dramatic about it…

— I’m not being dramatic, Torger — you snapped.

Suddenly, Lena stood up, throwing her cloth napkin over the dish of spaghetti and shrimp she'd ordered, letting out a frustrated grunt.

— I give up on you two — she said, while picking up the bag that was hanging on the back of the chair — I give up!

You tried to protest, but didn't have time before you saw your daughter marching out of the restaurant, not looking back. A few seconds of hesitation later, you followed after her, not minding leaving the plate of pasta, that was already cold by that point.

— Lena! — you shouted, as you saw her walk towards one of the carts, sitting behind the wheel and throwing her purse on the seat next to it — Wait! My dear, please!

Your pleadings were of no avail as she stomped off the cart's accelerator, disappearing into the dark of the night and leaving you standing halfway on the dirt road with tears in your eyes.

Arriving back at the villa, after generous help from one of the staff who knew how to drive the cart, you went to Lena's bedroom door, placing a hand on the handle. However, when you turned it over, you found that it was locked.

— Lena, my love — you said, knocking lightly on the door.

— Go away! — she replied, the words hitting you like a knife.

— Lena, please, my daughter, open the door, let's talk...

— I don't want to talk to anyone! — she yelled — Go away!

You sighed in defeat, letting go of the handle and backing away from the door. Hearing Lena sobbing softly broke his heart into a thousand pieces. This was supposed to be a time of joy and celebration, not sadness and tears.

— Is Lena in the room? — you heard Toto ask. Looking towards the entrance, he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, a worried expression on his face.

— Yeah.

— Were you able to speak to her?

— No — you replied, realizing he was walking towards the door — And I doubt she'll talk to you.

Toto stopped suddenly, turning towards you slowly.

— You think you know everything about Lena, don't you?

— I'm her mother, Torger — you said, crossing your arms.

— And I'm her father, Y/N.

— And that changes the fact that you know anything about her?

— She is my only daughter — he began to say.

— Which is a miracle — you muttered, being solemnly ignored by him.

— So, I’d like to think I know her pretty well.

You laughed mockingly.

— So tell me, Torger, what's her favorite color? Who is her favorite singer? What is her favorite dish? If you know your daughter, you should know this.

Toto let out a sigh.

— This is pathetic, Y/N.

—The only thing that’s pathetic is you playing dirty — you snapped — Pathetic for you to want to take my daughter away from me! My only daughter!

You expected an equally aggressive response to yours coming from Toto. He had always been hot-headed, which, along with your short temper, was a recipe for disaster. However, your ex-husband just shook his head, heading towards the bar in the corner of the large living room.

— Whiskey? — he asked, as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

You blinked, shocked.

— You can't be thinking about drinking in this situation...

Toto took the bottle and poured a generous dose. Then, glass in hand and leaning against the bar, he sighed.

— And is there anything else we can do considering our daughter is locked in her room and isn’t going to talk to either of us? — he asked, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing — Ugh, this needs some ice.

As your ex-husband turned back to the bar, you walked slowly over to the couch and sat down, heaving a frustrated sigh. The feeling you had was that you had completely failed, not just with Lena, who had high expectations for that trip, but with yourself, for not being able to control your own feelings towards your daughter and Toto.

— Want some? — he asked, holding the drink out to you. Staring at the amber liquid for a few seconds, you were sure this was a very bad idea. “Fuck it”, you thought, picking up the glass and taking a generous swig of whiskey.

— Ugh — you growled, as the alcohol burned in your throat. Sitting beside you, Toto smiled at your grimace.

— Bad, isn't it?

— Terrible — you replied — I thought there was only good stuff here.

— Me too — Toto said, chuckling — Even that Ottakringer we drank on the way back from the Hockenheimring that one day tasted better.

You laughed at the memory, the watery taste of the beer being a funny reminder of the years when you still looked at each other with something other than anger and resentment.

— Indeed — you muttered, taking another sip before returning the glass.

The silence stretched for long seconds, the only sound in there being the ice clinking on the crystal as Toto poured another shot. After taking a sip, he handed the cup back to you.

— Y/N?

— Hm? — you murmured, before drinking some more whiskey.

— I would never take Magdalena away from you.

Lowering your glass to rest on your thigh, your eyes met Toto's, which were filled with a sadness that was clearly not part of the drink's effect.

— You wouldn’t? — you asked softly.

— I would never be able to take her away from you, Y/N.

— So — you hesitated for a few seconds, pressing your lips together — Why do you want to take her to England?

Toto let out a long sigh.

— Because I feel like it’s the only way to try and fix some of my mistakes, Y/N — he said, his gaze locked on some middle point in the distance.

— Your mistakes?

— I always promised myself that I wouldn't be like my father, that I would do everything I could do right by my — Toto hesitated before correcting himself — By our children. And when Lena was born, I told myself I would do anything to make sure she had a happy life with us and… I screwed up.

You swallowed hard.

— I screwed up when I got in that car at the Nürburgring and insisted on making that lap record attempt. Niki was right, it was idiotic, and nobody cared about some silly GT car lap record. Honestly, I don't blame you for asking for a divorce after that, I would have done the same if it were me — he continued, running a hand through his hair — But it hurt, Y/N. It hurt to see you leaving with all that pain in your eyes. But, I accepted your decision and did exactly what my father did before he died…

— You mean, you becoming distant?

He nodded.

— I thought it would be best for you and Lena to be away from my sadness, my depression, but in the end, it wasn’t. She needed her dad, too, just like I needed mine.

You took another sip of whiskey, feeling your eyes sting with tears. Asking for a divorce had been the hardest decision you had ever made in your life, but you were convinced that you didn't belong there anymore. However, the truth is that you wanted to insist on Toto, insist on your love.

After all, your love for him was still there, sleeping inside your chest, but alive, begging you to let it out.

— So, your way of fixing your mistakes is by asking Lena to come live in England with you?

He took the glass of whiskey and drank the rest of the liquid.

— Not all of them, but some. I know I'll never be able to fix my mistakes with you.

— Have you tried, Toto? — you asked without hesitation.

— Tried what?

— Tried to fix your mistakes with me.

He set the glass down on the coffee table before looking at you.

— Do you want me to try, Y/N?

Your heart was beating heavily, pounding against the front of your chest.

— It's what I want most — you whispered.

Toto's hand slid towards your face, lightly caressing your cheek. With your eyes fixed on his, you matched the gesture by taking your hand to the back of his neck, while your mind took you to the night of your first kiss. On that occasion, the kiss had been calm, almost hesitant, the taste of wine dancing on your tongue as his scent invited you to dive deeper into him.

Facing him again, 15 years since the last time you had shared a kiss, the impression you had was that nothing had changed. The smell was the same. The man was the same. The invitation was the same.

And you accepted.

The first touch brought back memories of your other kisses. The happy kiss at the altar after being declared man and wife. The emotional kiss after you told him you were pregnant. The kiss that took place, with your daughter in your arms, after long and exhausting hours of childbirth. In all of them, the warmth that filled your chest was comforting and familiar, like approaching a campfire after a long time wandering in the cold.

It felt like coming home.

His fingers slid into your hair, tangling in the strands, while his tongue sought passage through your lips. Scratching the back of Toto's neck with your fingernails, you allowed him to savor you, the taste of him mixed with the resort's particularly bad whiskey. However, that was a minor detail at that moment.

What mattered was that you had finally found each other again.

— Y/N — Toto whispered, pulling away slightly from your face, breathing heavily — I…

Your fingers touched his lips in a silent request for him to not say anything. There was no reason to say anything more or hesitate any longer, not when you’d imagined this for so long.

This was inevitable, after so many times imagining what it would be like to try again every time you went to pick Lena up from the apartment Toto had moved into after the divorce, your gaze meeting the resignation in his expression every time you asked your daughter to say goodbye. It was inevitable to think of the sweet words he would whisper in your ear while watching his interviews on television, as well as the affectionate touch when you saw him gesticulating with his hands, while explaining something to the reporter.

As Toto leaned over your body, you allowed yourself to slide your hands under his linen shirt, feeling the firm muscles he had developed in the years after the divorce. Pulling the fabric up his torso, you quickly tried to undress him, which made him smile against your lips.

— You're still the same anxious little thing you always have been — Toto muttered, before slouching off his shirt and discarding it on the floor.

Then he dove towards your neck, nibbling ravenously at your skin, causing involuntary gasps to leave your lips, your body asking for more than just kisses and a well-positioned knee between your legs. You needed him like you were drowning and he was the surface.

However, when his fingers slid down the sides of your thighs, beneath your light summer dress, Toto pulled back, glancing back before meeting your inquiring gaze.

— What’s wrong? — you whispered.

— I thought I heard a door open — he replied softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes — And I don't know how good it would be for our daughter to see her divorced parents making out on a couch like two teenagers.

You smiled, bringing your hand to his face.

— You’re right. Besides, I think we're a bit too old for making out on the couch.

Toto laughed.

— Do you want to go to your room, then?

— Yes — you whispered.

Toto helped you to your feet and the two of you tiptoed to your suite. As Toto closed the door behind you, you busied yourself with undoing the knot of fabric at the back of your neck and sliding your dress down your body, bringing your panties with it. When Toto turned around and found you completely naked in front of him, he smiled. He walked toward you in slow steps as his eyes roamed over your skin like he was taking in all of the changes of your decade apart.

— It feels like our first time — he murmured, placing his hands on your hips.

You gave a small smile, as your mind transported you to that night in his apartment, where, after a few glasses of wine, you gave yourself to each other for the first time. It had been slow and romantic, with Toto insisting on learning every detail of your body to give you the pleasure you deserved.

However, you knew that statement was not entirely true. Since that night, your body had changed drastically, being pushed to the limit to bring your daughter into the world. You were no longer that young girl, but a mature woman, whose skin bore the marks of motherhood on your breasts, belly and hips.

— Well, the only difference is me.

He raised an eyebrow.

— You?

— I'm not the same person I was that night — you murmured, taking a hand to your belly. Then, with your finger, you traced the path of one of the faded stretch marks that seemed to glow against your skin, watching as his eyes were fixed on the movement of your hand — I've changed a lot since I had Lena… 

Bringing one hand to your chin, he lifted your face so you could meet his warm, gentle gaze.

— And yet you're still beautiful. Do you know why?

— Why?

— Because those are marks of love, Y/N. Marks of our love, which gave us our beautiful daughter. And I love every single one of them — Toto said, before bringing your lips to his. The kiss was delicate, as were the steps he took towards the bed, his hands caressing your skin, as if he wanted to assure you that his words were true and that he, in fact, loved each of one of those marks, even if they made you feel old and inadequate at times.

When you felt your back land on the soft duvet, you opened your eyes again to find Toto still standing on the edge of the bed, quickly taking off his shorts. Seeing him stark naked in front of you made you allow an anxious gasp to escape your lips.

— All good? — he asked as he positioned himself between your legs, one hand busy pumping his own cock.

— Yes — you replied, your eyes fixed on the movement of his hand and the anticipation of feeling him inside you. Following his gaze, Toto seemed to remember something.

— Do you want to use a condom?

— Do you think we need it? — you asked, almost innocently. In a normal context of casual sex, you wouldn't go without some sort of protection. However, that wasn't just a casual fuck, but a reunion.

— Well, I didn’t bring any. Did you?

— No…

— Great — he murmured — I also had a vasectomy a few years ago, so I don't think we’re going to get in any trouble, or anything.

— I wouldn’t mind if we got into some trouble — you said quietly. Something about the idea of having another child with him made your skin tingle. Lena had always asked for a brother and you had always said no, stating that having one copy of Toto at home was enough for you. However, at that moment, you wished that you had a few more of him.

— I wouldn't mind either, Y/N — he whispered, as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock brushing your clit lightly — Not at all.

The pressure that accompanied the low growl that came out of Toto's throat had you rolling your eyes as a strangled groan escaped your lips. A warm wave ran over your skin, your nails digging into his skin as his dick settled inside you.

— Fuck — Toto said through clenched teeth, eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

You wanted to speak, but at the same time, no words came out of your parted lips. Raising your hands to his face, you pulled him against you, your lips against his in a slow, wanting kiss. That moment encouraged Toto to move his hips against yours, savoring the pleasure that coursed through your bodies.

The rhythm built almost instinctively, the strength of your fingers making him accelerate his thrusts against your pussy, the sound of your wetness joining your moans.

— Yes, yes, yes, Toto — you muttered under your breath, encouraging him to continue at that pace, feeling your muscles tense.

— I missed you so much, liebes — he growled, as he took his hand to one of your legs and pulled it higher, slightly changing the angle of your hips — So, so, so much…

— Me too, me too — you replied in a low voice, while pressing your heel against the base of Toto's spine. Your body begged for more, much more than just the pleasure he was giving you. You wanted his anger, his pride, his joy and his love. You wanted to become a part of him, the same way you wanted him to become a part of you.

As you felt his fingertips brush against your clit, you felt your whole body tense, your lips tightening in an attempt to stifle your moans. It was so much that your eyes filled with tears, but something inside you said that they weren't limited to that effort.

It wasn't just lust or lust anymore.

It was love. Pure, simple, and finally awake after so long.

It was with that thought and eyes finally open again, locked on Toto's, that you felt your body finally reach its climax, your lips letting out a groan before he kissed you, muffling the sound. Your legs shook as your nails dug into his shoulders as he took his last thrusts.

— Y/N, fuck — Toto growled before he came, followed by a primal growl, as if this was his way of claiming you for himself. And with the heat of his pleasure inside you, the certainty that you were his only grew. You had always been his.

Pulling his cock out of your pussy, your ex-husband collapsed next to you on the bed, breathing heavily. Staring at the ceiling in silence, something inside you wanted to feel guilt, while your muscles were still shaking with the aftershocks. However, you didn't feel any remorse or regret.

— Are you okay? — Toto asked you. Looking in his direction, you smiled.

— Yeah… You? — you whispered.

— I feel better than I have in a long time — he said, making you laugh — What?

— You sound like you haven't had sex in years.

— Well, it has been years since I've had sex with someone I loved, so…

The phrase made you turn your body towards Toto, resting your head on his shoulder. Something in the way he looked at you filled your chest with something completely different from anything you had felt until then.

Hope.

— Do you love me? — you asked softly.

— I never stopped loving you, liebes. Not even when I wanted to hate you for leaving. I can only love you. I don’t know how to do anything but love you — he replied, before kissing your forehead tenderly. And it was there, nestled in his chest, that you fell into a serene and, in a way, happy sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.

— Mom? — Lena's muffled voice asked — Are you there?

Rubbing your eyes, you were about to respond when you realized you hadn't slept alone. The sound of the shower coming from the bathroom indicated that Toto had already woken up and, probably, that was what made your daughter knock.

— Yes, honey, I'm here — you replied, in an uncertain tone.

— Can I come in?

Suddenly your eyes widened, adrenaline rushing through your body as you scrambled to your feet, quickly looking for something to wear.

— No, I'm getting dressed!

— But you never…

— Wait a minute, my love — you shouted towards the entrance of the room, while picking up a robe that was hanging on one of the armchairs. Clutching the terry cloth against your body, you went to the door and opened a small crack — Hi, honey.

Lena was looking at you with a serious expression, her eyes still swollen from the tears she had shed the night before.

— Good morning, mom.

— Are you okay?

— Yeah, I am — she replied — I wanted to talk to you. Actually, I wanted to talk to you and dad, but I don’t know where he is.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. She definitely couldn't even imagine Toto was right next door, washing the remnants of sex and sweat from his skin in your bathroom.

— He must have gone to the gym or taken a walk on the beach — you tried to dismiss, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

— I don't know, mom, the living room is a mess — she said, looking at the room next door — There's a bottle of whiskey, some empty glasses, dad’s shirt is on the floor...

“Fucking hell, Torger, of all the times to not be so uptight about cleaning”, you thought.

— He must be hungover, like that time in Abu Dhabi — you said, causing Lena to smirk.

— That was terrible — she muttered.

— Indeed.

You stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

— Well, I'll let you finish your shower and then we'll see what to do. Do you want me to order breakfast?

— Yes, that would be great. Thank you — you replied, before smiling and closing the door, letting out a sigh of relief. Your daughter definitely didn't need to know that you had just slept with her dad, especially after almost 15 years since your divorce.

It was an unnecessary shock for that moment.

Opening the bathroom door, you saw Toto's silhouette through the fogged glass, his fingers buried in his dark hair as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. You crept toward the shower, opening the door a crack to watch him, savoring the way the water ran down his body with your lower lip between your teeth.

Then, he opened his eyes.

— Good morning, liebes — Toto said, with a smile.

— Good morning.

— Was that Lena at the door?

— Yeah. She wants to talk to us, but she couldn't find you anywhere.

— I can't imagine why — he murmured, making you smile — Want to come in with me? I can wash your hair if you want.

Nodding, you took off your robe and stepped into the shower with Toto, feeling his warm, wet hands wrap around your waist. Smiling, you couldn't resist giving him a kiss, while the drops of hot water fell on your body.

— I love you, liebes — he said softly, his lips brushing yours.

— I love you too, darling.

He washed your hair practically silently, only speaking to ask you to step under the jet of hot water. While you were drying off, Toto asked you if you had any plans to get him out of your room without being seen by Lena. After a few minutes of discussion, you opted to split up, with you distracting her while he went back to his own suite to get dressed and pretend nothing had happened.

It looked perfect.

With your hair still damp, you left your room trying to ignore the tightness in your stomach. Quickly scanning the room, you found your daughter leaning against the glass railing of the balcony, her gaze lost on the horizon. Approaching slowly, you were thinking of asking about her plans for the day when she spoke up.

— I already ordered breakfast — Lena said, not looking at you.

— Oh, good — you replied — Thank you, darling.

More silence. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

— Look, my love, I...

— You're going to apologize for yesterday, aren't you?

— Yeah. I shouldn’t have acted like that, and ruined your night…

— Mom — Lena said, looking at you — It wasn't about ruining my night. The problem there was that you did exactly the opposite of what I asked you to do before we left home.

You pursed your lips.

— I know you hate each other and that you wish the other didn't exist, but you can't change the past, much less the fact that you had a daughter together.

— I know, my love…

— Then why did you make that whole scene at the restaurant?

— Because I don't want to lose you, Magdalena — you replied, in a low voice — You are my only daughter, the person I love most in the world and...

— Mom, you won't lose me.

— Are you sure? — you asked her, your voice cracking.

— Yes, I am. But, you have to understand that I grew up and that I can make my own choices, without you or dad deciding for me — Lena said, her tone of voice making her sound much older than she really was.

— And what did you decide? — a deep voice asked. Looking back, you found Toto standing at the balcony door, his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

Lena smiled.

— I've decided I'm not going to decide anything here — she said — I'll go over my options when I get home, alone, without either of you two putting pressure on me.

— You know you don't have to…

— Mom — Lena interrupted you — I need to do this alone. I know you want to help me, just like dad does, but I have to decide things for myself, no matter how difficult they are.

Looking at Lena, you finally realized that you were no longer in front of the same little girl that you had put on your lap and taken away from the apartment where you lived with Toto, back in 2009. You were in front of a woman, who, in addition to love, you also deeply admired.

— It's okay, bébé — Toto finally spoke — It's always your decision. But, know that we will always be by your side, supporting you no matter what choice you make. Isn't that right, Y/N?

You hesitated, looking at your daughter with a tight lump in your throat. “Does it have to be that hard?”, you asked yourself.

— Mom?

— You know I'll always support you, Lena — you finally managed to speak — Even though it's terrible to think about being away from you, not being able to hug you, kiss you and tell you how much I love you whenever I want. I'm always by your side, my love.

She smiled, advancing towards the two of you and enveloping you in a tight hug. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to savor that moment, feeling the warmth of your daughter's arms and of Toto, who had run a hand down your back to bring you both closer to him.

Feeling him kiss your hair, you smiled.

You were home. Finally home.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #wlffog #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #toto wolff smut #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff angst #oneshotwlff

[3hks]

How to Create a Unique Character

As authors, we should want our characters to stand out, to be unique, and to have an everlasting impression on our readers! However, there are simply too many other characters out there to make our creations one-of-a-kind. But in this post, I'll give you some ideas and tips you can use to create a memorable character!

What really sticks out about your character? Appearance wise, it's admittedly easier if your character has some truly unique features, such as heterochromatic eyes, scars, different hair color(s), accessories, etc. If your character doesn't have anything too distinctive about them, then pick out some of their most important traits and embellish them! Notice that I said important, the features that matter to your character should matter to the reader. And finally, if your character is simply just average, then state that. Take time to really describe your characters and the respective parts of them!

What about their backstory? Honestly, a backstory can do a lot! They can change the readers' perspectives on the character and provide reasoning for their actions. With that being said, a backstory can really stick to the audience, so let your imagination run wild with their past! Naturally, you should decide on what influence their background had on them and build a story around that. Does your character live in an orphanage? What type of orphanage is it? What did they learn from it? For quite some writers, their main characters are orphans, but how did they become one? I'm going to be honest here, it's rather common for authors to have their protagonist watch their parents die, and have their motives built around that. Don't just settle for something bland! If they have been through some sort of traumatic experience, depending on the situation, I suggest involving that character, make them a part of what they went through, more than a simple bystander. Maybe they could've helped, but didn't, and that regret was what changed them! If you want your character to have an impression on your audience, the backstory is a part of the foundation for that!

What about their emotions? For a mentally healthy character, this is a pretty obvious answer: they are perfectly cognizant of their feelings and accept them. However, I suspect that most of you won't create a mentally healthy character, and that might work to your advantage! Think about how they would deal with these three feelings: sadness, anger, and stress. Does it differ from a "normal" person? Then at some point, include your character battling one (or more) of the emotions they find it difficult to deal with! How they respond will stick out to the readers!

What about their mental stability? Does your character have some sort of mental health disorder? These don't have to be flat-out depression, but can include OCD, mysophobia, (more commonly known as germophobia) anxiety, ADHD, etc. A disorder or obsession will definitely make your character stand out, but make sure to do some research on the topic! Mental health is no joke; some people may actually have the disorder, and falsified facts could really be offensive.

And lastly, what about their own, private problems? For example, a character's significant other has been distracted with work, and doesn't pay much attention to the former character. Thus, they feel abandoned and not prioritized. How does the character fight to overcome those feelings? How a character feels in specific events can reach out to the reader because they find it relatable!

These are some things to consider when creating a unique character! Every little part counts!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspo #creative writing #how to create a unique character #unique character #how to make a character stand out

[kaixserzz]

just a little drabble i had in mind with cutie akademiya zandik :3 will make more in the future because im obsessed with this man.

dottore drabble x1 - "gossip"

"you won't believe what just happened."

upon hearing your words, zandik couldn't help but let a small smile form on his lips. his focus still stayed on the documents he was writing, yet he glanced in your direction, watching you sit on his bed, right next to his desk.

"another gossip for me?" he muses, and you huff, crossing your arms. zandik never had a single care for the people around him, especially the people who had nothing but scorn in their eyes whenever they see him.

and yet he always finds himself listening to every word you say about the people at the akademiya. there was just this certain allure in your voice that drew him to hear, to let his eyes follow every dramatic movement of your hands, and watch as your face morphed into different emotions throughout your storytelling.

"it's not like you say no every time i tell you stuff!" you pout at him, propping yourself up on his desk with your elbows, watching him write away. "and it's not like you actually listen, you just sit there, look pretty, while i ramble nonsense into your ear."

zandik raised a brow, his smile widening when he saw you sulk. he put down his pen, and turned his head to look at you. "is it about that one professor you were complaining about a few days ago?" he asked, humming while he was lost in thought, "or was it the girl who's been refusing to go on dates with her boyfriend?"

immediately, you broke out into a massive grin, eyes lighting up like fireworks. "oh, so you do listen!" you happily giggled, staring at him with those love-sick eyes and adorably kicking your feet.

of course, he does. zandik will always listen, no matter how absurd it is. word for word, any story that came from your lips will be something of his interest.

after all, you've shown nothing but genuine curiosity about his research. there was never disgust, disdain, nor fear in your eyes. only the loving warmth of your affections, and unwavering support for him.

"now, go on, tell me what's the news this time." he urged you, and you immediately went off, hands flying as you explained what happened thoroughly, ensuring he was on track with your recent gossip.

he may not care for others, but he does care about you. and so he listens, nodding along as you speak. zandik occasionally comments, then laugh when you crack a joke or two.

but if you spared the time to pay close attention to him at times like these, you will notice that every second of it, there's a soft, sincere smile that only ever appears in your presence.

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚ #╰┈➤ il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?

Sure.

Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.

1. Help your readers read your story.

AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.

You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!

You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!

Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.

2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.

You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!

Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.

You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.

Balance the scales.

3. You are not talented.

Neither am I. Nor are any of us.

Listen to me. Listen.

Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.

This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.

Talent starts with passion.

Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.

Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.

But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.

So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.

Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.

also, cringe is dead.

#chekhov answers

[shepherds-of-haven]

Happy New Year, everyone! I thought it would be fun to do a little retrospective on the game's progress over the last year... Shepherds of Haven has grown so much from the little demo I posted in January 2018, and it continues to steadily build and flourish in so many different and exciting ways! Here's a look at just some of the things we accomplished in 2023!

I added 143,151 words to the game (2.5 main chapters, 8 new character interludes) in 2023: the equivalent of writing the longest Lord of the Rings book in one year! We also broke our huge 1 million word milestone—without including code—meaning Shepherds of Haven is now officially twice as long as War and Peace, and almost as long as the entire 7-book Harry Potter series... and all in a single game!

A lot goes into game creation behind the scenes, including the coordination and creation of visual assets for the game—like character cards, codex entries, maps, portraits, and backgrounds—fun stuff for the fans (like the MC info template we created), and songs for the official soundtrack. As the game creeps slowly and determinedly towards its initial completion, that also means learning new things as a solo developer to prepare for the future, like learning to build an official website, researching business and tax practices, and beginning to think about how to conduct testing, publishing, and marketing down the road. Much of what I enumerate here hasn't been made public yet and will continue to cook in the background for a while, but I'm very proud of the work I've gotten done this year and will be excited to unveil more in the future!

And of course, for even more Shepherds of Haven content, I've added and completed even more stories for our little library on Patreon (which also has sizable word count at this point): The Bridge of Bones (a Trouble and Riel murder mystery), O Happy Dagger (a dark adventure featuring Briony, Chase, and Red), and The Hunt (a wild tale involving Tallys, Halek, Shery, and new kinds of spirits, fey magic, and Elves) were all serial stories completed in 2023, while Some Kind of Virus is a cyberpunk zombie apocalypse AU that will continue to be updated with new chapters monthly.

A full list of the Shepherd short stories and serial novellas (with links) can be viewed here!

I hope you enjoyed this session of Shepherds of Haven Wrapped! Honestly, this doesn't actually cover everything I've been working on, but some things can't be packaged and listed out neatly, or otherwise won't seem very interesting to anyone else but me! 😂 As we inch through Chapter 9 and get more interludes done (only a few more main chapters to go), I'm hopeful that I'll also be able to find time to work on my next novel, but we'll see if the Shepherds schedule ends up ramping up or settling down as we work steadily towards finishing the main story!

One important thing before wrapping up is to acknowledge your guys' role in this wonderful, wild journey. I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for your invaluable contributions to the development of Shepherds of Haven. Whether you took the time to share links to the game, supported its growth on Discord or Patreon, left encouraging messages or asked interesting questions, reported bugs, or showcased your remarkable works of fanfiction or fanart, I am sincerely thankful for the unwavering support from this amazing community! Your collective efforts have played a pivotal role in shaping the world of the game into what it is today. Words cannot adequately convey my gratitude for your support, and I am truly blessed to have such a passionate community surrounding this project.

As we step into 2024, I am filled with anticipation for the developments awaiting Shepherds of Haven. Big things are on the horizon, and I am so excited to share these experiences with you! Thank you for being an integral part of this journey, and here's to the continued growth of our shared little world. Cheers to 2024—may it be a year filled with creativity, adventure, and joy! 🎊

#Shepherds of Haven #milestone #update #short story #short stories #Patreon #alpha build #alpha preview #year in review #wrapped #recap #2023 #master post #master list #happy new year #long #long post

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write a walker x transmasc!reader oneshot? if not, that is fine aswell! - 🗡️

of course I could!! just beware any random shit because I don't know much about being transmasc and I did a lot of research on reddit and tiktok for this for like mannerisms ans shit ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! ; for any regulars on my blog, ik I've enforced the gn reader only thing but I updated my rules list, where I'll only do trans masc/fem readers on request. that doesn't mean request a thing and add one of those solely for a set of he/him or she/her pronouns though. ; post writing robin and this was actually so fun to write LMAO I hope you like this even tho it's so short

WALKER SCOBELL ; the boys

summary ; youre transmasc and properly come out to walker and co + some stupid shit for two parts

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; idk shit about awards shows + imagine middle school auditorium seats for the first part

word count ; 723

masterlist

You, Aryan, Walker, and Leah sit in the audience at the 2025 Emmy Awards, chatting before the cameras turned on to watch the proper show begin. You and Walker sit together, with Aryan and Leah right behind you. The thick, tan, plastic chairs were going to do a number on your ass later. For a million-dollar award show you'd think they would upgrade the seat situation a little bit.

Leah and Aryan sit forward in their seats, holding a conversation with you and Walker, both turned around in yours.

"No, and like, you will not be calling me that, thank you!" You laugh and smile, "If you get your grimy hands on my legal name I will actually throw myself away. I am a man!"

"Wait, what?" Walker questions, eyebrows furrowed. "Legal name?"

"I changed my name" You clarify. "Cause like..." You look yourself up and down, hands following your gaze. "Y'know?"

Walker blinks, pushing his blonde curls away from his face. "Wait... you're trans?"

You nod, a playful yet unbelievable smile on your face. "How did you not know?"

"Even I knew" Leah comments, glancing at Aryan, who nods in agreement.

"I thought it was kinda obvious." You chuckle, seeing his surprised reaction. "I had to keep correcting people about my name like, a million times"

"I never knew you had another name? I thought it was always Y/n!"

"This is going on my story"

"Which one?"

"The Boys"

Walker smiles, his right arm slung over your shoulders as he watches you caption and post the picture you'd just taken with him on your public Snapchat story. It was titled The Boys, meant for you and all your close friends.

He was glad to see that you considered him one of your close friends, but also on such a deep level, though it was just a title to you. He saw the deeper meaning that you didn't. Like an over analyzing reader to a writer. He was happy you also considered yourself a boy, that you could happily parade that around and feel comfortable with your identity. He truly couldn't be more proud to see you happy and smiling in this moment.

You look back up at him, a cheesy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What's that look for?" You ask, a little confused.

"Nothing" He replies, patting your right shoulder blade as he moves his arm around a bit. "We should definitely make a playlist and put it on your story for people to listen to" He suggests with a slight shrug.

"For what?" You ask again, a little puzzled as to where this was going."

"Just cause"

"Okay, Mr.-Won't-Explain-Shit-Scobell"

"You just went on a five minute tangent trying to avoid the word homophobia"

"I was testing the waters with your gaydar, cause apparently it was broken the first time"

"I don't have a gaydar! I'm just, like, here! I'm just a guy"

"Look at this handsome man! Dude, wear purple more, I'm so serious"

"Okay, I see you, Y/n!"

"Fix your tie!"

"I'm trying, I'm still learning! I didn't have this chapter of boyhood"

"Here-" The blonde mumbles, reaching forward to fix your black tie.

You tilt your chin up, giving him easy access to the cloth wrapped around your neck. Leah and Aryan watch, smug looks on their faces.

You send them a glare, trying not to alert Walker to it. He quickly reties your tie, sending you a thumbs up as he backs away. You quickly thank him, a warmth heating up your cheeks, physically unnoticeable.

"Walker, you look like a divorce lawyer." You comment, stuffing your hands in your purple pockets.

The blonde dramatically scoffs, a hand rested on his heart. "You're so mean to me! You're not welcome to the next boys sleepover"

"I don't wanna be a part of that dorky shit anyways"

"Okay, meanie"

"What are you, twelve?"

"...Did you just attempt to quote me?"

You shrug with a side nod.

Leah speaks for you, "Yeah, he did"

"How do you know?"

"He told us that he was gonna try and quote you at least once today" She chuckles.

The three look back at you, lining your jawline with your finger, clearly sucking up your tongue.

"Dude, stop mewing, we have to go out there in like, a minute"

#lowkeyrobin #walker scobell x reader #walker scobell #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #transmasc reader #transmasc!reader #he/him reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson

[not-poignant]

Worldbuilding and Writing Fiction are two separate skills.

Someone reblogged one of my shitposts yesterday (the one about intimidating myself out of worldbuilding) expressing confusion in the tags about how anyone could be intimidated out of writing through worldbuilding too much.

This was kind of baffling to me, because I think I've seen it 50-60 times now, especially with new, ambitious writers who are starting off with deep fantasy or science fiction projects. When you talk to them, they've often sunk months or even years of worldbuilding into the project, but when you ask how far they've come on the fiction side of things, they usually have writer's block, haven't started writing the story, or say they're not ready yet. 'I'm starting soon' is a common refrain. 'I just have a little bit more left to do.'

The main reason for this - I feel - is that worldbuilding and writing are two different skills. Someone who spends 5 years worldbuilding has learned how to get really good at worldbuilding, but that doesn't mean anything about how good their writing will be. Many folks think worldbuilding will automatically make a story better, but sometimes worldbuilding can become unwieldy and stressful, especially in the case of a) entirely new worlds / secondary world fantasy, or b) complex worldbuilding. Definitely not talking about contemporary romance here, lol. (Though no shade to that, I've had a lot of fun worldbuilding for those stories too).

Going from worldbuilding to writing is launching into an entirely new space. If you find writing new stories easy, that won't be a problem for you, in fact you may not even have realised they're too different skills before now.

If you find writing new stories intimidating, sometimes having hundreds or thousands of things about your world to try and constantly remember can feel overwhelming and mess with the executive function needed to start a chapter.

In some cases, worldbuilding can make it much easier to start a story. But it really depends on what you're needing to do. If you're just writing a contemporary story where you need to research two characters and two jobs, you're generally going to be just fine.

If on the other hand, you have the equivalent of a 500 page Wiki behind-the-scenes, it can feel overwhelming very quickly.

New writers fall into this trap the most, I feel. They become accustomed to what worldbuilding feels like, and they hedge on writing the actual fiction, because they just have more experience worldbuilding and keep waiting for their confidence in worldbuilding to become 'confidence in starting the story.' It doesn't work that way. They're different skills.

They might even be better at worldbuilding than writing! But that just means - if they really want to be a writer - that writing is the skill they really need to work on the most. That can be a comfort zone issue too. It can also be a 'only about 5-10% of all this work will ever appear in the story' issue, where folks want to share the worldbuilding more than the characters or plot, and therefore are just not inspired to work on their story. It can be a 'I want this story to be as good as my worldbuilding' issue. It can be a 'I find the worldbuilding part easy' issue. There are lots of reasons people stall out in worldbuilding and then feel intimidated to write the actual story.

This can also happen with established writers who become aware that the more they know about their world, the more they don't know about their world. It can start to feel like - if you write 10 articles for yourself, you end up with 100 more to write. If you write those 100 articles, you have another 300 to write. Worldbuilding never ends. Worldbuilding can be endless, and if you're an immersive writer, you can get lost very easily in the details, or in not knowing what details are critical and what details aren't. (A hint here is that you'll figure that out really fast when you start writing).

Stalling in worldbuilding can be a lot of things, it can tell you that there's something broken in the world, something broken in the story, it can tell you more about your insecurities, it can tell you how good you are at one skill and where you might need practice in another. It's super informative!

But, generally speaking, the advice I tend to give to many new writers is to try not to let your worldbuilding period last too long. Ideally, put a timer on it and see how it feels to start writing your story once the timer has gone off (3 months, 6 months, 3 weeks, put it in your phone or in your calendar, and start the first chapter, or some random scene, once that time is up).

If, after that period of time lapses, you still aren't ready to start your story, something bigger might be going on. It's an opportunity to dig deeper into the situation. And sometimes just ask yourself if you're using the idea of a novel as an excuse to do what you love most: Worldbuilding. If that's the case, there are other jobs you can parlay a solid worldbuilding ability into. It doesn't have to lead to novels. :)

But yeah it's super super common for many writers to stall out between worldbuilding and writing, and to feel overwhelmed by their own worldbuilding.

New writers get affected by it the most based on observation and hanging around writing forums, and the advice that gets asked quite often specifically on 'when do I go from worldbuilding to writing the story,' but established writers experience it too, because as Gene Wolfe once said to Neil Gaiman: "You never learn how to write a novel, Neil. You just learn how to write the novel you are on."

#on writing #on worldbuilding #dodgy advice #worldbuilding and writing are two different skills #and writing one novel in one world #doesn't necessarily teach you how to write another novel in another world #likewise worldbuilding doesn't teach you how to write the novel that will follow #it just gives you a lot of meat for the structure itself #some folks don't notice a difference and never realise they're different skills #some people just notice that worldbuilding makes things easier #and for the rest of us it can definitely be a mixed bag

[nihilnovisubsole]

i think i followed you Back In The Day, seven years and seven blogs ago, for something related to mass effect (zaeed? maybe? who could say) and it's wild to come back to this site years later and find you thriving, surviving, growing-- playing ffxiv! love that game. curious how you'll feel about some side characters in shadowbringers, but i won't spoil which ones.

i do have real questions, though; writing tools. not pens or software, but personal structure tools and/or guidance. what does a beat sheet look like, for you? do you have a favored way of outlining or note-taking on your own thoughts when putting a story together?

and... i'm really curious how you hold a big story together in your head while you work on it in pieces, especially for something like dangerous crowns. there's this larger story i've been chasing around for a while, and I can't quite wrap my head around how to write the political/espionage plot for it without feeling like i've actually written a children's pantomime. the best i've got so far is "research real life events and use those as my outline" but after a point it becomes hard to keep track of all the variables of who knows what about whom, who is planning x when y, etc, etc. the characters don't need to know all that-- and may never know some things-- but i feel like /I/ need to understand what's happening on the macro level so i can move the world around them appropriately.

short version: how do YOU wrap your head around writing complex plots?

hey, anon! i started endwalker this week after a long... uh... glamour detour, so don't worry about spoiling things. i spoil myself for a lot of stories on purpose anyway. let's just say i've been attached to one too many characters who got killed.

anyway. writing. i've always handled plots the same way: clear documentation. if i don't note it down, i'm not going to remember it. i've used the same table outline since around 2014. it varies in detail for different projects, but the core format stays. i know it's kicking around in my blog archive somewhere, but it's worth reposting once in a while because people like to ask about it. here's what it looks like, featuring plot points cribbed from an endeavour episode:

i used this format for an outline at work a while back, and the team found it easy to follow, which was a big day for my ego. keeping track of plot structure is even more chaotic at work because we have multiple writers who all need to stay on the same page. we have very meticulous notes on what the player should know at which point, when we're introducing new information, and what we know, but shouldn't tell. we're also not above leaving notes like "this character has to convey X," "this character has to learn Y here," or "this is a clue that they're planning Z." it can be super on-the-nose. all that matters is that it makes sense to you. because you're right - if you get too lost, you can write yourself into logic holes of tremendous proportions. ask me how i know!

[as a sidenote, researching real-life events as a starting point has really grown on me in the past few years. my lead on coh3 had me do it. he said we were dealing with real people's history, so we couldn't be cheap or play fastball - we had to be accurate to pay it respect. even if you're not writing historical fiction, it just gives you insight into how people behave.]

i would argue that the plot of dangerous crowns is actually not that complicated, maybe to its detriment. there's kind of a genre struggle going on. at voltage, we were taught romance fans came for the relationship beats and valued them above all else. in fact, leadership told us players got irritated - which meant less sales - when the plot was too complex and took time away from the making out. political thriller fans, by contrast, expect relentless twists, high stakes, and harsh consequences, and sometimes see the relationships as superfluous.

but whatever. the point is, when you look at dangerous crowns' structure, it's a pearl necklace: a chain of anchoring events. the "pearl" scenes are where Big Plot happens. they're the reason you want to write the story, and probably the ones you have the most vivid daydreams about. the scenes in between are the string. not flashy, but important because they connect the pearls. they build tension and add logic, cohesion, and context. take the opera and hector's failed assassination. those are pearl scenes. that's a burst of drama i really wanted the story to build up to. i also had other flashbulb visions. livia by the fountain questioning herself, marcus' macbeth moment, the temple riot, things like that. so the question was, how could i believably travel between these pearl scenes? how could i make these big showcase moments connect smoothly?

if you're having trouble holding the story together in your head, i would ask, "what are your pearls?" what are the anchor points? outline those. it might not look like a necklace yet, but you'll sort of see it taking shape. and then, once you can see where your heart's-desire milestones are, you'll have a clearer idea of what can't fire until you set it up first. two other neat things can happen here. you could find the rhythm of your pacing, or realize you have a lot more plot meat than you thought you did. even if you don't, you have some road. and if you can't think of the string, sometimes you just have to start writing the pearls and see what comes to you.

good luck!!

#asks #anon #writing #long post

[daisyvramien]

Okay so, I've been waving the Google Drive and Docs flag like it's my own personal banner for ages. I mean, it's been my ride or die, my trusty sidekick through countless projects and late-night writing sessions for over +6 years now. But in November last year, during Nanowrimo, I decided to get the trial for Scrivener after I saw the add when I completed the challenge. I installed it and chose to let it live in my computer but never "really" dipped toes in it cause Google Docs and Drive ARE my jam (and I hate changes but that's another topic for another day). So I decide to open it, you know, this april (I know it's ate but hey) ? But not gonna lie, I was skeptical.

I mean, the interface alone looked like it could swallow me whole, and my poor scattered attention span was already shaking in its boots. I would rather face a haunted house than an application full of features because me and technology ? When it works, I like it but when it doesn't, good God and pancakes above- But I did try. And went from skeptical to pleasantly surprised. Sure the interface looks scary af, too much stuff you gotta check out BUT-.... It's like the fairy godmother of organization swooped in and blessed my writing life. I'm talking files for days, characters and places neatly tucked away, notes that actually make sense, and research that feels like a breeze to manage. And the formatting? Don't even get me started. It's like having a magic wand that just waves away all my worries about how my writing should look. As someone who has spent way too much time fiddling with font sizes and margins, discovering that Scrivener takes care of that for me? It's like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Now, instead of obsessing over the perfect font, I can focus on what really matters – telling my story.

You can add files, images, pages links, anything really (not sure about videos yet though or music, gotta check this out). I hate organization because it means clearing up my ideas, maybe throwing some away but this is necessary and just because one doesn't make it in this one, doesn't mean she won't be there in another.

Like, seriously. I know, I know, it looks like a lot (and let's be real, it is), but I promise it's worth-it. So, if you're anything like me, drowning in a sea of half-baked ideas and forgotten plotlines with an attention span shorter than a butterfly's lifespan, do yourself a favor and give Scrivener a shot. Trust me, your future self will thank you for it.

#writing #ao3 writer #indie author #self publishing #bookblr #booklover #ao3 fanfic #book blog #fantasy books #author #scrivener #writing resources #on writing #writing advice #writing tips #and that's on (probably) adhd #writer community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female writers #creative writing #writers and poets #writeblr #how to write #writing help #writing characters

[copperbadge]

This week feels very busy and crazy stacked with stuff I have to do, but mainly because I've done all the easy stuff (not just in terms of cleaning but in terms of like, life) so all that's left is all the hard stuff that requires a lot of brainpower. I'm trying to limit it to one task a day; today I got a really important project at work put to bed, which is good, but it means tomorrow I have to tackle the really important project I pushed off to make room for today's.

I'm doing a lot of putting-off lately not because I'm a particular procrastinator but just because, while I know I'll be fine if I open the various documents I need and just look at them, I'll be able to move forward...I panic at the thought of getting the documents open. I'll work through it, I always do, but Therapist has me looking into clinical research on catastrophizing in the next few weeks, which is not an accident.

That said, I went out to the library this evening and managed to wade through a lot of the notes I'd taken on Royals/Ramblers. There really isn't actually that much I need to fix, and adding a few brief scenes is taking care of a lot of it. There's still some "read the entire book through and adjust these themes" along with some "Go to these specific scenes and change Every Detail About Them" but it won't be as hard as I thought. I think probably the issue is that there's a LOT I need to change in the Dychev short story, and that was freaking me out, but that one can wait a while.

And while I need to do a bunch of research for the football novel, technically Simon's novel is the next one in the slate at this point, and Simon's novel is actually starting to look a lot easier -- more like a fun challenge than a difficult task. Simon's novel will incorporate a lot of "pre recipe essay" style passages, which are actually fun, even if I'm not very experienced with writing an unreliable narrator. And at least I'm on slightly firmer footing when it comes to food. :D

Moral of the story: libraries are great for putting a stop to catastrophizing, and if you've fucked up the story about the boats, well, use it as an object lesson in not fucking up the story about the curried chicken.

#shivadhverse #writing

[olderthannetfic]

How does one get considered by a major publisher? Is it just luck and the people you know? I can’t imagine they’re willing to look at everything that gets sent to them.

--

This is something that's actually pretty easy to research. I don't keep on top of it because I'm not interested in pursuing this, but I can give some basics.

There are hundreds of publications and blogs and agents' and publishing professionals' own social media accounts that talk about this.

You have to look it up imprint by imprint. Most of the time, in the current day, the imprints people really want to get published with don't accept unagented submissions. The open slush pile is a thing of the past many places.

Agents, however, often do accept unsolicited manuscripts, and they're frequently the first step for people trying to break in. There are various books and indexes where you can look up who's in business, who's looking for submissions, and what kind of content they cover.

Knowing people can certainly help, but new authors do break in all the time without nepotism or industry ties.

I don't think luck has much to do with it.

There's luck involved in those rare cases where someone is picked up by the first agent they approach, the agent is able to successfully sell the book right away, and it goes on to be a bestseller.

But most authors' success stories involve a number of years of sending their manuscripts around to various agents while writing more. That's not luck: that's perseverance.

I suppose there's some luck in happening to have tastes and strengths suited to whatever is trendy right now, but if you're envisioning a long-term career as a writer, even that won't be consistent.

--

As for how you get out of the slush pile...

Write a complete manuscript that is ready to publish as-is in terms of plot, pacing, and characterization.

Proofread it extensively.

Format it in the requested manner. (Could vary by agent/venue.)

Send it to an agent/venue that actually covers the genre/subject matter in your manuscript.

You would be surprised at just how many people don't follow any of these suggestions.

They think it's the publisher's job to be their beta reader and do extensive plot and style revisions with them, but in the modern day, most types of publishing don't have the time or money for that. They're going to proofread you and change your punctuation to house style. They might do more, but that's the most you can rely on.

If there is anything in your manuscript you wouldn't want to see on bookstore shelves today, fix it.

The others are even worse. People are always sending poetry books to fiction imprints and fiction to nonfiction ones, etc. Or they write three chapters because that's what submissions call for but don't have the rest of the book ready when an agent is finally interested. Or the first paragraph is littered with typos.

Basic professionalism like with any job interview goes far.

--

We all like to joke about all the total crap that does end up getting published, and yes, sometimes if you're already a celebrity or you happen to hit a trend just right or you're great at marketing yourself and have connections, that can be you.

But writing a really good book still works.

A lot of the time, people who are actually writing publishing-ready manuscripts and lots of them who submit to publishers for 10 years will eventually break in. People who stop after one manuscript or a dozen submissions generally won't.

[random-introverted-blog]

I suppose you want to hear about...

Me! Hi!

So first things first, what is this blog? Despite this name, it's actually Not a Shadowheart exclusive BG3 blog. The name is just a play on a joke I made with some friends that there is a DEEP lack of Dark Justiciar Shadowheart and Dark/Jealous/Possessive content for her. While I, of course, get and love our precious, wholesome Selunite baby, there's a lot of untapped potential for her Sharran Side. There's already a whole post I made on why I think you can definitely pull off a Yandere/Obsessive Shadowheart if you're interested. Can find that post Here, if you're interested.

This blog will be

Astarion and Shadowheart focused. BG3 blog maybe a random aside thought?

Not everything will be Yandere/Dark

I would like to be heralded as a Meme Queen, thank you

YES, I write fanfiction too, there's no escaping us.

I have SO many prompts/ideas/drabbles to share with you guys too

Maybe an opinion or such, like the Yandere Shadowheart post

Requests? Don't trust myself to do them in a timely manner. Suggestions of things to write? All for those, hmu girlies

I write a longfic on AO3 called I Want To Live. You can find me... Here!

I also now write a story called His Star - His Queen and that can be found... Here! Or if you prefer to continue reading on Tumblr I have a master page I call the Chapter Index and the link can be found... Here!

My Tumblr name is different from my AO3. I have yet to transplant my drabbles to my AO3 but if you want to stalk and stare at the relative void of my page, you can find me Here! My name there is A Random Introvert.

My inbox is open in case you guys aren't aware. There's really no limit on what you could send in that I won't reply to.

My Masterlist can be found here!

If I'm perfectly honest?

I'm actually a Spawn!Astarion simp more

ALRIGHT PUT DOWN THE PITCHFORKS I'M JUST BEING TRANSPARENT HERE.

But I've always had a weakness for dark romance, yandere content, obsessive/possessive/jealous content, and Ascended!Astarion has that in SPADES. So does Sharran!Shadowheart and DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart just saying.

Hence why the profile picture and banner feature Astarion and Shadowheart. This blog is for both of them, as I simp both.

Now not to come across condescending or anything, I know most people are aware what a yandere is. But just in case there are some newbies/uninitiated in this sacred, unholy character trope. Never want people to feel awkward or unwelcome or even ashamed they don't know something.

There are many other tropes that tend to be interwoven into a yandere. It's hardly ever their only trait. You can learn the rest by reading that, and your own research.

Look, I may be a Spawn!Astarion simp but I'm very staunch in my belief.

This is above all a No Judgement - No Shame blog

We can all enjoy ascended Astarion or Obsessive Shadowheart or whoever else you want to make a dark character. We can, because we can all acknowledge that no one in a healthy frame of mind would actually want to be with a Yandere in real life. But here, in text and words, we can enjoy it for what it is. A fantasy. I have a partner (hi babe) who is the complete antithesis of a yandere. I am actively writing a double Yandere electric boogaloo fic on AO3. Which they actively read and I talk about often. Doesn't change that I want a healthy relationship. And if I ever got a hint that they were recreating the scenes I was writing, I would ***SPOILERS*** drop faster than Shadowheart's parents when she kills them that's dark and I'm not sorry nor feel bad for it ***END SPOILERS**

That said; I welcome you to this little blog of mine and wish to be welcomed to this fandom if you would let me.

I think we're going to have a lot of fun together

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #shadowheart #ascended astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion #spawn astarion #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate blog #baldurs gate brainrot

[captainmera]

I've been reading your Tales of Caleb Wittebane story and honestly your grasp of 1600s America makes the worldbuilding very interesting. I admire your dedication to making it as accurate as you can!

omg THANK YOU!!! :DDDDDD <333333

I've done so much research--!! I know so much about Connecticut Hartford and the witch trials, and Pequots, you don't even know half of it.

As a non-american, I never thought I'd know this much about a state's history lol. For one, Connecticut has a whole museum dedicated to the history and culture of the Pequot tribal nation! Super fascinating check it out!

I think I've consumed every documentary available on youtube twice, as well as scraped sites like Wetherfield's historical society & Hartford museum's sources and recommendations, just to get the detail snippets up.

Both Wethersfield and Hartford are very obvious inspirations for Gravesfield! Considering they have so many similar things appearing in them. I mean, just look at Hartford's founder statue lol:

I did look into the work behind the costume designs for movies like VVITCH, Salem and Sleepy Hollow, just to consume the visual knowledge of what experts had to say about it. Y'know? :D Saves me the work to listen/read what experts have to say about it!

Looking into the witch trials too (which took place before Salem) is also very interesting! Though, Gravesfield is inspired by it, so I'm allowing myself some creative freedom. Especially in regard to what "witchcraft" happens. Considering, Evelyn is a real witch and her magic has an actual system behind it.

Matthew Hopkins was a real witch finder, which I believe Jacob is referencing. But in true Disney fashion, I changed his name to Anthony instead, so it isn't a ~real~ historical figure. :P

I like history, but my area of fascination is social culture. So a lot of what I dig into is everyday life, behaviour and objects, fashion and how things are used.

It's been particularly fun to look into Woodsmen and what their actual duties/lives were like! :D And right now I'm looking more into crime and punishment. Which is also a lot of fun!

I don't save all my sources because I just write down in my notebook of what is relevant for me and the story. So I won't say I'm a 100% accurate, but I'm like... a solid 70%??? Which is good enough for me! Heheh!

idk about you fam but history immerses me creatively. Because the more I find - like little objects and what they ate, wore, things like that - it makes me grounded and I can see it so much clearer what is happening and what SHOULD happen.

Like, when Evelyn meets Mr Hopkins and Caleb keeps elbowing her to be quiet. It's not in-text, because I want the reader to be mystified with Evelyn more in that scene; But she is not supposed to talk with Mr Hopkins so frankly. And, she responds to his "how do you do" incorrectly, she answers it! You're supposed to reply the same in return "How do you do." "How do you do." Which is what Caleb did!

So she's a weirdo! :D For me, that really helps me write Evelyn clashing and standing out more. And amplifies Caleb's nervousness of her strangeness by others. He is very self-aware of social status and position. Which she is not. So he is her perfect guide! :D

:DDDDD

Sorry I'm going off on a babble here but THANK YOU FOR NOTICING. I'm very proud of it! :D

#ttoCW #tgb #tgb ask

[thatlittleegyptologist]

I'm doing nanowrimo this month, and i've already run out of puff after 600 words :( any advice on bashing out 50k+ words in one evening? love your fanfic <3

Thank you! Uhh I can't give advice on 50k words in a day (the most I've ever managed was 15k in one day) but as someone who's written both long ass fanfics and a long ass PhD thesis, but I can give some general writing advice (as much as I can while being some rando with no real experience).

Try to set a goal for the amount of words in a day, but don't be bound to it. For instance, with my thesis I had a very low goal of 500 words a day because it was a long project and I needed to research a lot. More often than not I would write more than that, and sometimes I'd write less. It didn't really matter as long as I'd written something. With fanfic, I tend to set a goal of 2k words a day, which I find pretty manageable, but that's mostly because of how I structure my own writing. I don't beat myself up if I don't hit that target I set for myself.

That being said, with nanowrimo there's a time limit, so you've got to learn to manage your time without being obsessed with the word count. The more you obsess about the word count, the less you're going to be able to write because you're too busy thinking 'uhhh I've only written X number of words' and not actually focusing on the story you're writing. You have to let the story take you where it's going rather than worrying about 'is it enough'. When I switch that part of me off I end up finishing a scene I was writing and seeing that it's 1.3k words and I hadn't even thought about it.

Don't be afraid to scrap things if they're not working. Sometimes you've got this whole plan and you think 'yeah no this'll be good' and then the characters won't go there. You sit and slog trying to get them to go along with what you want but they don't move and neither does your word count. At that point, you have to decide if this is because you've hit a bit of a block, or if it's something the characters shouldn't be doing in this story. If it's a block, go do something else and rotate the scenario in your mind like a daydream and you'll likely figure a way out. If it's something the characters shouldn't be doing because it no longer fits with the story you're telling, then you'll have to do the classic 'kill your darlings' and remove it. Don't kill the idea entirely! Keep it in a different file for another story if it works there. I've had to do that with my own work, where I'm trying to make something fit because I thought it was cool and the characters don't want to do it, so I scrap it and take it in an entirely different direction that feels natural and thus becomes easier to write.

Description is key. I say this with all the love in the world, but some people have taken the fact that 'it was a dark and stormy night' is a trope and just gone in an entirely different direction where they fail to describe anything at all. Description of a room, the lighting, the mood, the atmosphere, people's feelings, the actions they take between speaking all add to your word count, and they're important for helping your readers see the world you're in. For instance, there's a difference between:

He entered the hall before him, taking in his surroundings. There she was at the end of it all, sat on her throne, looking angry with him. "So you finally decided to show your face?" she said spitefully. "You know I would not be this late if I had any other choice," he replied.

and

He entered the vast hall before him, taking in his surroundings. The light was dim through the stained glass, casting a gloom over the walls. As he walked purposefully forwards, his footfall was hushed by the length of carpet underfoot, making the clink of his armour echo louder in the alcoves. There she was, the woman he sought, slouched lazily on her throne, a look of bored disdain crossing her features as she eyed his approach. When he was almost upon her that look turned to fury as she sat up, hands clasped in front of her, her green eyes blazed with the anger she was yet to release upon him. "So you finally decided to show your face?" she asked spitefully, one eyebrow raised in condescension. "It's a wonder you dared to come back at all considering your behaviour." He sighed. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve her ire, but he wished she'd let him explain himself first. "You know I would not be this late if I had any other choice," he replied, stepping closer to her. "I would never willingly hurt you this way. You have to believe me."

See how, with a little description and set up, you go from 54 words to 193 words without much effort? I've not said anything new really, I've just set the scene a little more so it matches the mood of the characters and the tone of the scene I'm writing. I mean I've just made that up on the spot, but you get a better feel for the characters I'm dealing with than you did in the first example.

5. Take breaks. Sometimes it really isn't going to come to you in the next few hours. Go away, do something else, and come back to it later. In fact, it's okay not to come back to it at all if you're just not in the right frame of mind to do it. Forcing yourself won't help you or the story you're trying to write, so always take time to reset your brain at come at it in a better frame of mind. 6. Plan where you want to go with what you're writing but don't bind yourself to that plan. I always have a rough outline so I know where I want to go, but as my beta can attest, I won't always stick to it if either it doesn't work or I think of something better as I'm writing it. If you bind yourself too hard to where you think the story should go, you can cause problems in moving forward (see again: kill your darlings) 7. Re-read what you've already written. You have to sit there and ask yourself 'is there any way I can improve this?' 'have I used the same adjective twice in as many sentences and can I use a synonym to break that up but still convey the same meaning?' 'Would the character really say that?' 'are they yelling when really they should only have a raised voice?' etc etc. I go through my own work, regularly (again my beta will attest to the googledoc we have where I will re-read a chapter and just go to town) editing how things are phrased or dialogue to tighten it up. I know fanfic is posted chapter by chapter initially, but eventually it will be complete and someone is going to experience it reading it all in one sitting without having to wait for the next chapter. So it's important, at least for me, to make my chapters make sense as chapters, but also make sense as a whole story read from beginning to end. Re-reading also allows you to find little threads you'd woven in previously and pull those through, making a more cohesive narrative rather than having people wonder 'huh they never did follow that up'. 8. Remember you can edit later! A key thing I had to learn when writing my PhD is learning to move on when something isn't quite perfect yet. I used to get stuck because I'd be mad at it not being right first time and thus my word count would go absolutely nowhere. PhD taught me I can't do that. Sometimes you've got to write a really shitty paragraph, put a comment next to it saying 'fix this later' and move on. If you don't move on you'll never get anywhere because you'll be stuck in a mess of your own making without writing the story you've got in your head. Be a little bit messy, write that terrible dialogue, and then keep going with the story you were telling. The dialogue can be fixed, but losing your momentum can't. 9. Let yourself be a little more wordy! School, or at least my schooling, wanted us to be very precise with what you were saying when you wrote things. It discouraged explanation and more verbose paragraphs in favour of succinctness and writing to marking schemes. If you want to describe something, describe it! Tell your audience what the room looks like, what the person looks like, what something smells like. You don't have to purple prose it, or go over the top, just a little more description allows you to see things better in your head and writing often comes easier for me when I can see it. One of the compliments I've had on my writing is that people say they can clearly see the thing I've described, and they love it or hate it based on that description. Letting yourself fall a little into your created world with your description allows you to feel it better when writing it, and in turn allows your readers to imagine it. Words are good! Use them! 10. Have fun! And don't be like me and write a very long response to an ask about writing very long things.

#there are better writers than me following me here #but this is the best advice I can give from my perspective