My Nerdy Mind

Beware. It's a little crazy in here.

[aberrantangel]

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After a bajillion bad takes I refuse to do it again so have this one. I recently finished listening to the Podfic version of World Ain’t Ready by @idiopathicsmile (love your work by the way) yet again and inspiration slapped me across the face. I’m lazy so I used the easiest chords possible, but hey it’s not bad.

Link to the Chords and Lyrics: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10jDPO5474dWByxMB0DtXxDV381A6kLdtQDujOqrCM2A/edit?usp=sharing

[idiopath-fic-smile]

hey so this is a completely wild thing to exist! holy heck! <3

[thestuckylibrary]

I’m looking for a fic I read awhile ago. I remember that steve and Bucky are together and out to the avengers but not to the world. Steve loses his personal phone someone finds it and threatens to put them through their private text messages. I’ve look everywhere for it and can’t find it anyway. Pls pls help!! Thank you 💖💖

This one?

QuickPic by biblionerd07 (oneshot |5,272 | G)

Steve loses his phone and doesn’t think too much about it…until someone puts his pictures and texts on the internet.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

steve rogers: pr disaster | gen | 4k

(someone asked about the full version of this, so here u go)

“Wait,” says Sam, “you had a publicist?”

“For my first five months at S.H.I.E.L.D,” says Steve. “Then she quit. Uh, decisively.”

“Well yeah, she had to keep you in line,” Bucky says with a half-smirk. “How many times did you make that poor lady want to sock you in the face?”

“Lost count,” Steve admits. “I did offer to let her, once. Seemed fair.”

Sam laughs. “I feel like you’re sitting on a story here.”

“There’s no story,” Steve tells him. Sam raises his eyebrows. Bucky’s half-smirk tilts towards a full smirk. “Seriously,” Steve repeats, “no story.”

Interlude: The Story of Steve “Walking PR Nightmare” Rogers, and How For a Short While He Single-Handedly Destroyed the Emotional Health of Eva Laura Ortiz, His Now Ex-Publicist

Keep reading

[mynerdymind-blog]

Typical Evening

Me: *washing dishes 

Brother: Ok, you’re done. It’s my turn. 

Me: Ok. Love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day. 

Mom: Wait, ask him if there’s anything else he needs you to do.

Me: Ok. Hey is there anything that you need me to do to help. 

Brother: Leave. Now.

[justawritingaid]

The Many Kinds of Narrative Hooks

A Narrative Hook is the opening line of a story, named for how the purpose is to grab the reader and make them want to keep reading, whereas the Full Opening consists of a few paragraphs to a few pages, depending on the length of piece, and contains the hook as its starting point. It’s important to have a strong opening line because it’s the first true impression a reader will have of your story. They may read the summary, but a summary does not form an impression as much as an expectation. It gives the reader an overview and exists outside the story; the hook is where the important content actually begins.

A strong hook can take many different forms and there are plenty of options to choose from, but all of those potential options have one things in common: they need to properly introduce the story. A strong hook does not lie to a reader, starting off bold and wacky when the rest of the book fails to keep up, or insightful when the theme never appears again. “Shock value” is cheap unless the rest of the book continues to reflect it. A hook is the first door the reader opens, and there is a big difference between a hook that’s genuinely bad versus one that’s just not in-your-face. It’s true that a bold hook is more likely to grab readers from the get-go, but if the rest of the story can’t hold up to that hook then it’s a failed story. A hook is not meant to lie about what’s to come or be the “best line ever”– good hooks all depend on the story they introduce.

Organization of the types of hooks vary and there’s no singular way to draw lines around the options, but I tend to classify hooks in three different categories: “bold statements”, “story setting”, and “straight to the point”.

1. Bold statements.

Bold lines are usually thought of as creating shock, confusion, and/or comedy, all forms of immediate intrigue solely based on the specific line. When using any kind of this opener, make sure it actually fits the story as a starting point. A lot of shallow advice likes to tote the bold statement as the best option ever, but in reality it’s not the best choice for every story and can make the writer easily come off as trying too hard if it falls flat.

The absurd/confusing at first glance.

It was a pleasure to burn.

- Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury:

On its own, that line has many varying implications from the ambiguity. Is the narrator burning? Is he doing the burning? Can this be taken literally? It’s an unexpected line. Then, the following sentence provides more context and the reader learns that that the character is burning something, and by the end of the paragraph they learn that he’s burning books.

When using this kind of line, you need to explain it at some point within that full opening, preferably within that first paragraph. It also needs to make some form of sense on its own and naturally flow into the following lines. Stories that start best with absurd/confusing first lines tend to be on the odd side, or at the very least can consistently provide the same level of boldness and type of interest that the line generates.

The information tease.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

What’s the advice that’s causing a clear disruption in the narrator’s mind? That word choice of “more vulnerable years” even raises questions about characterization.  

Almost any story can start with an info tease, but it usually finds its easiest home with stories that constantly work with questions, mysteries, or have a focus on learning information over time. This line also requires an explanation, though depending on subject matter it doesn’t have to be in the opening if it fits the plot to leave it be for a bit and the story can still have a strong opening without the info. You can introduce a question that the narrator themselves is still trying to figure out or have a more contained tease where the info is given right after it’s mentioned.  

*The voice.

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

- The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

When you have a narrator with a strong voice then a bolder opening line can introduce them well and give the reader a good impression of who they’re going to be “listening to” for the rest of the book. However, you need to make sure you’re not just taking refuge in audacity and thinking that automatically makes it good. All bold openings still need to fit the story and make sense to be the intro.

*This option can very easily be thought of as its own category in general, because it’s possible to integrate it into every single other option. It’s placed under “bold statements” because it’s a bold and direct statement of character to write with a strong voice.

Keep reading

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

She was looking at something behind me with the suppressed wonder of a curious child. I had to turn around, see what she was looking at, but there was nothing remarkable there—just people in a restaurant, dining and talking amongst themselves.

“What are you looking at?” I asked with a smile polite enough to sweeten the question.

When she adjusted her gaze at me, she seemed to wonder how she’s going to explain this to me. Or what lie she’s going to make up. It was just that sort of look.

“That guy over there,” she pointed with her eyes, “Long hair, black shirt. He has a guitar.”

I looked behind me again, and sure enough, there he was. He was laying the guitar case on the sofa, taking ample care to make sure it was resting peacefully.

“So?” I laughed, politely again. I could’ve let it go right then, but this was an annoyance, and when my mind detects an annoyance, it feels obligated to follow it through.

“I’ve been waiting to spot someone with a guitar for so long,” she said. “I think… for three months, maybe. I’ll have to check.”

“But why?”

She smiled sheepishly. “It’s a game I play. I challenge myself to spot a very specific kind of person without going out of my way to look for them. Like someone with a guitar, or someone with a green beret, or someone who has to bend low to enter a doorway.”

“And what happens when you do spot them?”

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I make a note of it in my journal and carry on with my day. I mean, what else would I do?”

“You could go talk to them,” I suggested.

“No, no,” she laughed again, shaking her head. “I couldn’t. Would you?”

“Yeah, sure I would,” I said. “It sounds like a great way to meet new people.”

“What? Hey there, nice guitar, dude,” she said mockingly.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you say.”

She leaned back in her seat and the server appeared with our orders. She nodded at the server as he announced the items. I thanked him, myself.

“What’s the longest you’ve gone before finding someone to your… specifications?” I asked.

“Specifications,” she repeated, laughing with flashing teeth. “The record has been nine months and twelve days. I’d challenged myself to spot a woman carrying a dumbbell.”

“You don’t go to the gym, I take it,” I said.

She shook her head again.

“Let’s shake it up a bit,” I said, and got up from my seat. “I’m going to invite the guitarist over there to our table.”

“What? No,” she almost jumped up to stop me. “Sit down, please, don’t make this awkward.”

I was so sure, but I decided to respect her wishes. The concept of risk appeared in my mind, and I realised that if this happened to go south, it could jeopardise our business relationship. Sometimes, money just is more important.

“Alright, alright,” I picked up my knife and fork. “Say, what’s going to be your next specification?”

She lifted her fork and looked away at the ceiling, thinking of an answer. “Someone I feel like striking up a conversation with,” she said.

[crew-of-the-detz]

Like a Peacock

(Always wanted to do something like this, enjoy!)

“My love, are you ready?”

Jessica almost didn’t hear the voice, being muffled from outside the door. Quickly she hops up off of her bed, perfumes her self, slides on her extravagant green and pink dress, then opens the door. There stands her husband, her pristine no flaws husband, her rich husband who provides for her.

God, he’s so boring.

Not be misunderstood, she is completely grateful for her social standing and the fact her father found her a husband. But life, life grows boring. The same routine every day, wake up to go to some party socialize with some people to raise some money for some company. This was her day to day life. She might even have enjoyed it if she were running the show, but no, she is just a piece of arm cany for her ever so noble and just husband. She and Him, nothing the same. She has thoughts of adventure and actually leaving the manor they live in, he thinks the outside world to be impure and dirty. And heaven forbid he gets his 9 thousand credit Groffalin leather black shoes a tad dirty.

“Come dear, we go to Madam Sechovek’s manor for another charity.” This irks Jessica. Charity implies raising money for people who can’t on their own, not raising money for an already multi-million credit mega-corperation. But regardless, Jessica followed her husband to the shuttle. And as the shuttle left looking down she could see the brightly colored neon signs that lit the streets below. She thought it sad that they decided to live above the people, literally, instead of with them.

They arrive at Sechovek’s manor, some balding rich man gives a speech, they collect money, some other old rich man gives a speech blah blah blah. The “party” starts, stiff dancing to stiff tunes. But, somewhere in the middle of a seemingly millennia old waltz. A very distinct *ping* could be heard.

The room erupts into light.

Windows smash, guests scream, and Jessica who had been looking away from the initial explosion turns around to see them. While she in her sheltered life had never seen pirates before, she had read up on them quite a lot, these seemed to be pirates. She was so well studdied on Pirates that judging by the tattoos and insignias on their clothing, that they are Mr. Kev’s men.

A tall Duajhaq man beats the closest man down befor stepping in to plain view. Jessica had never seen a Duajhaq outside of house staff before. “Alright!” His rough voice crowed out. “Bring forward the collected money and nobody needs to get hurt today!” Madam Sechovek herself brings the collected money forward, for her, the amount raised is nothing. But still the pirate eyed the handheld computer that contained the funds greedily. “Thank you kindly. Now, if ya don’t mind, we’re gonna lighten each and every individuals load a little. If you catch my drift.”

The band of pirates split up and started to shake down each of those present. Joking and calling them greedy when they found credits on them not given to the “charity”. A Duajhaq pirate approaches Jessica and her husband, he is an interesting looking man. Florescent green and pink tattoos spiral around every available patch of clear skin, even his face is a mosaic of greens and pinks. Everyone but Jessica cowers away, funnily enough Jessica’s husband jumps behind Jessica to use her as a shield.

“Yer pockets. Gonna have to ask they be emptied.”

Jessica, trying her best to conceal her excitement, steps forward. “Mate, you’re not gonna find much dosh on me,” the pirates eyes widen upon hearing her use less than formal language. “But these chumps,” she points back to her husband and the group of cowering ‘nobles’, “they are loaded my friend.” The pirate nods and walks past her, then shaking down each of the people behind her. She can hardly contain her excitement, this has never happened. And probably never will happen again, unless…

She rips the sleeves off her dress and marches to the center of the room. Before boldly exclaiming, “Which one of you [REDACTED] son of a [REDACTED] [REDACTED] is running this here shitshow!”

Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing, old women faint and even a few of the pirates are blushing. The tall Duajhaq man that spoke earlier steps up, “I am, and who are you?”

Jessica throws her arms to the side. “Nevermind who I am! But I got some questions for you!” The Duajhaq man is obviously uncomfortable now. “How do you plan to escape after this? They won’t care how many credits you’re hauling, system authority will gun you down before you ever make it back to the Detz!”

“How did you-”

Jessica puts up a finger, “I am not finished! However, if you take a hostage,” she gestures at herself, “No way in hell system authority will dare to fire a single shot.”

The Duajhaq man looks around in disbelief, “Are- are you suggesting we take you, hostage?”

Jessica marches up to the Duajhaq man, and with as much strength she can muster siezes him by the collar of his leather duster. “If I have to go, to one more party, one more 'charity’, one more arrogant pricks parlor room as just a decoration for a shallow man. I will do something HORRENDOUSLY stupid. So yes, please for the love of God or Jovohk or whoever.” She gets right up in his face. “Take. Me. With. You.”

The Duajhaq is expressing genuine terror, and the rest of the pirates are baffled as well. All around the rich guests are crying out and wondering what bout of hysteria has taken her. Eventually the tall Duajhaq clears his throat, “Yeah. Okay, okay lady we’ll take you with us.”

As the pirates left, Jessica stood on the ramp to the Pirates dropship that had smashed through a window. “Oh, and one last thing!” All the eyes in the room snapped over to her. Once she was sure that all eyes were on her, with both hands she gave the most graceful one finger salute before closing the ramp.

She sits down next to the tattooed Duajhaq that had shook her husband, or rather ex husband, down earlier. “Say, I absolutely love your tattoos. They’re in my favorite colors!” She gestures to her dress as the Duajhaq man shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Mind showing me where I can get my own?”

The Duajhaq man looks at her bare arms and nods, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I can color your skin something pretty. Like a peacock!”

The rest of the way to the Detz thats all they discussed, tattoos to make her like a peacock. Thats her nickname around the bar of the Detz now, Peacock.

Peacock now serves as a “business espionage” expert for Kev and crew, and she’s damn good at her job.

[the-sleepy-poet]

the area dividing the brain and the soul is affected in many ways by experience – some lose all mind and become soul: insane. some lose all soul and become mind: intellectual. some lose both and become: accepted.

Charles Bukowski, lifedance (via the-sleepy-poet)

[mynerdymind-blog]

Lightning Girl

Lightning streaked across the sky, tinting the air a soft lavender. In the split second, I saw her face tilted up and her arms welcoming the rain, she was radiant. 

[mynerdymind-blog]

The Forest Watcher

The Forbidden Forest held more secrets, more history then Hogwarts itself. Witnessing scandalous affairs, deadly rivals, and unlikely alliances.

The Forbidden Forest knew no good or evil. It would not discriminate between the innocence of the unicorn or the bloodlust of the acromantulas.

The Forbidden Forest existed centuries before the founders stepped foot on the grounds. It bore witness to the fall of Salazar and Godric. Their brotherhood dissolving into bitter enmity over the seductress, Rowena. Her eyes swimming with cold curiosity.

The Forbidden Forest stood sentry as a single boy faced off against an army, cheating Death for the second time. A black stone still rests among the foliage, glinting in the glowing embers of twilight.