#writting

[aged-envy]

Hurt/Angst fanfic writing tips

i need to ask a question and refuse to ask anyone in my life because this shit is depressing as fuck. warning graphic depictions of violence and abuse.

Is it obvious who Past Dudley is vs who now Dudley is? I think it is but I can't tell because I already know who says and does what.

Dementors scene

[][]Scene Setting: The park

[][]Time: Summer before 5th year

[][]Cast: dudley, harry eventualy, Dementor

Dudley is flung onto his back as a dementor flies above him. Swelling pain rushes as his back hits the ground. It’s quickly replaced with something even worse. His whole body feels as if it’s on fire as thick grey smoke flows out of his mouth and into the dementors. 

Scene fades to black

[][]scene setting: dudley house: interior harry’s closet under the stair case

[][]time: summer before 2nd year

[][]cast: dudley, past dudley, past vermone

Dudley looks around confused and wonders why he is so small and how he got in here. He goes to open the door but it’s locked. That’s when he hears a noise, Past Dudley stomping on the stairs above him. The sound makes the room feel even smaller than before as the sound vibrates throughout the room. A terrifying realization hits him.

He stays frozen in that spot until he hears the sound of a door unlocking. He immediately sprints to the door, opening it and leaving the room. Unfortunately he’s immediately shoved into the wall by Past Dudley. It hurts significantly more than Dudley expected it to. Mostly because his body is now covered in bruises and his ribs are broken. This is also when he notices how hard it is to breath with broken ribs. 

“Hey, wtf” dudly yells in defense

“What did you just say to me? You are below me. Act like it.” Past Dudley says as he slams his foot down on Dudleys chest. 

Pinning him to the ground and sending more spikes of pain throughout his chest. Even with his foot just sitting on his chest hurts. Constantly sending sprouts of pain throughout his body. 

“Dad do something” dudley calls out desperate

“What did you just call me, Past dudley move over so i can teach him a lesson”  Past Vernon

“No, he’s mine. You can have him after I'm finished.” Past dudley wines

Past Dudley continues to press harder and harder on his chest. His eyes fill with an evil, gleeful smile as Dudley screams in pain. After what feels like hours, Past Dudley gets bored and goes into the kitchen. Past Vernon comes over and picks dudley up by his shirt. Pushing him against the wall of the hallway

“Now you listen to me you ungrateful brat. You are nothing, you are worthless. I’m not your father and I never will be. You are nothing but a disgusting mistake.” Past Vernon says with pure hatred in his eyes as if he’s expecting a response

When he doesn’t get a response he slams Dudley into the wall again. 

“Say it, you are nothing, you are worthless, your nothing but a disgusting mistake” Past Vernon sners at him

“You are….” dudleys cut off by vermon slamming him into the wall causing his head to hit the wall so hard it the world starts spinning and everything gets so bright it burns his eyes.

“ don’t you dare sass me boy, or are you just that dumb. I’ll dumb it down since your brain doesn’t seem to be working. you say, "I am worthless, I am nothing but a disgusting mistake” over pronounces the I in each sentence. 

‘I am worthless, i am nothing but a disgusting mistake” dudley replies his voice shaking 

“Good you finally know your place,i’ve decided you aren’t needed today”  Past Vernon drags dudley by his hair into the room. 

Dudley lays on the ground a sobbing mess. He shoves his head in a pillow when Past Dudley starts complaining about how annoying it is. Scared that he would go tell Past Vernon on him. Questioning everything he’s ever known. 

Scene fades to black

and he wakes up to see the dementors gone. Harry stood in front of him, his wand out. He runs after the Dementor, quickly disappearing from Dudley's view. He’s left contemplating why Harry would save someone as bad as him. The pain he feels physically will never fully go away but it’s nothing compared to what he feels emotionally. 

[cookiekat-super-epic-poets]

Despite my extremely high praise of no longer human, I despise the setting sun omfg, maybe I’m dumb or I hate how osamu dazai wrote women but the sexism and mischaracterization of women seeps through the pages

All this because I can’t finish the lover letter part, it’s such a hard read bro how did she go from kinda buff and cool female lead to pathetically desperately in love woman

[bobloxed]

how does this work

idk, there are pillbaby factory guys, but you can just be born, ramdonly, like sticklukemaster, bro just, grew, idk dude

[inthemoodforblastt]

When you were in school, did you write anything specific?

Yes, I’ve always written original stories. In fact, when I was about 14 or 15, I wrote a story that I published online and I think it ended up getting around three or four million reads. I later deleted it from the internet because I thought it was rubbish. It was basically the first story I ever wrote, and when I reread it I found it absolutely awful, and even though a lot of people followed it and liked it, I deleted it anyway because I’m very self-critical and when I read something and think it’s complete shit, I get really embarrassed and I have to get rid of it.

A lot of people have told me I’m an idiot for doing that, and I also think so when I seriously reconsider it, but I’m extremely self-demanding in that sense. So for example, with fanfiction, it doesn’t really matter to me because it’s fanfiction. The story isn’t mine, the characters aren’t mine. I can kind of detach from it. So if I reread it and don’t think it’s as good as it should be, I don’t really care that much. But if the story is entirely mine, the lore is mine, the characters are mine, everything is created by me, and it doesn’t reach the level of quality I hold myself to, then I see it as trash and I delete it.

I mainly used to publish on Wattpad and FictionPress and on forums. At that time I wrote in Spanish, not in English, and I published original stories. I wrote a lot, a lot, a lot during that period and even during classes I was constantly writing my own things. I have a lot of original characters, actually, and they really helped me to release and process my anxiety as well, because I wrote in a very compulsive way, and I think it was a very healthy way of channeling the compulsions I had.

[shatcey]

Did you ever write a scene that appeared vividly before your eyes, and then, after you checked the meaning of the gesture you used, realised it was exactly as you felt... exactly the feeling you wanted to express?

It's interesting how memory can be buried inside the mind and only reappear in the form of symbols. I couldn't verbally express the meaning, but I felt it… emotionally.

I found it interesting…

[cookiekat-super-epic-poets]

Started a new fic instead of finishing the three multi-chapter WIPs I have

This is why I can’t do chapterfics 💔

[comradecomma]

Me looking at a terrible show pen in hand like I can fix you.

[2heartsthatbeatasone]

Habit.

PART TWOOOOOO go read part one here.

synopsis; waking up from the meteorite and finding 50 drawings of a man you just met is unsettling. What's even more unsettling is he some how ends up finding them. word count: 4,597 first requested fic!!! (˶>⩊<˶) thank you so much for the req and hope this meets your expectations!

You get yourself together the best you can and make a slow walk to your therapist’s office. A soft knock on the door indicates your entrance, and you sit down on one of the many soft, velvety chairs nearby. “So, we’ve reached the end of our physical phase, and we’re ready to move onto our second phase, regarding mental and physical health, which will last 8 weeks depending on what your progress tells us. You will be meeting with me once every Monday, and with your new doctor,” He squints and readjusts his glasses while staring at his monitor. “Ah, Doctor Chishiya. He is still in medical school but is a skilled surgeon and is finishing his studies by the end of next year I believe. You will see him each Friday. The color drains from your face. Surely not…Surely you won't be forced to be with him for the next 8 weeks…right? “Is something the matter?” A head tilt of your psychiatrist snaps you from your thoughts. “Oh, nothing, I've just been thinking of someone recently. Can’t get them off my mind.” He sets his laptop down and gives you his attention. “Like I said, this next phase will be dealing with your mental health, so this may take a toll on you. You’re sure theres nothing i should know about. Any visions, recurring dreams or night mares? A feeling of lost memories or deja-vu?” You hesitate. “Well, I know it’ll sound crazy but…I keep having memories that havent happened. Just brief flashes of things that have happened with me and this person, but the thing is…I’ve only technically met them a week ago. But it feels like ive known them for…more than that. Does that make sense?” He nods and starts typing on his computer before replying, pushing his laptop aside again. “What you’re experiencing is called Memory Misatribution, and it's fairly common among people dealing with truamas in near death experiences.” He studys my face looking for any discomfort in his words. “When  you face a near-death experience, your brain is so overwhelmed by panic, survival chemicals, or a lack of oxygen that it fails to record the event correctly, leaving massive blanks in your memory. Because the human mind hates missing information, it automatically tries to fill in those blanks to make sense of what happened.” He pauses. “If you meet a new person immediately after the crisis, your brain takes their face and mistakenly glues it backward into the missing pieces of the trauma. This creates a vivid but false memory where you genuinely believe they were part of the actual event, simply because your confused brain scrambled the timeline of who you met and when.” “Oh…alright.” You try your best to give a believing smile, but your eyes give you away. “I know it’s hard to understand right now, but this is a normal reaction your brain is doing.” He tries to reassure you. “No, it’s alright, I understand.” But you don’t. Why does his face show in your sketchbook that you haven't seen at all before this? Your therapy ends short after that, and before you know it, you're walking out to your car when a face you’ve seen one too many times appears. “Oh, Doctor Chishiya? Um…can I help you?” His sharp eyes bore into yours. “Is there any way I could get you a coffee?” The question baffles you. This cold, detached man, offering to buy you coffee? Surely you’ve gone fully crazy and just imagining things now. “Sorry, I uh…Did you just ask to get coffee with me?” You laugh nervously. “Yes. Are you busy at the moment?” Is this man seriously just asking you on a date?! “I um…well, I actually am.” You dart your eyes back and forth, not knowing how to process all this. “Good. Meet with me at Kyoto Kura, it’s a coffeehouse near here.” And again, he’s gone just as fast as he arrived. What a strange man.

Upon arriving at the coffeehouse your mind is swarming with questions. Why did he want to see me? Does he know i’m his new patient? Does he…remember that place too?. You see him sat at a small table, reading a book. It reminds you of something. Another memory. “You’re always reading, ‘Shiya.” “It’s a better way to spend time than turning to alcohol or partying." “I guess you're right. You know, you look so focused when you read. Can I draw you?”“Draw me? How…vain.”You’re staring at him, again. Lost in what you presume to be false memories, you make your way over to him and sit across from him. “Hey, sorry if i took a bit, traffic was awful with all the roads closed.” “No worries.” He seems as if he’s waiting to ask you a question. Thinking of how to phrase it, perhaps. Either way he’s looking at you. Again. You awkwardly bring up a subject to fill the silence. “Is there a reason you invited me here…?”

“Well, seeing one of my patients have a notebook littered with portraits of myself is a bit perplexing to me, so I thought I could invite you to discuss why that is.”

The question makes every muscle in your body lock up, and for a moment you can only stare at him from across the table while your brain desperately searches for a response that doesn't immediately result in you throwing yourself through the nearest window. Unfortunately, no such response exists.

"You...what?"

Chishiya calmly turns a page in his book. "The sketchbook."

You feel your soul leave your body. "The sketchbook?"

"Yes."

"The sketchbook that was closed?"

"Mostly."

"The sketchbook that I was very clearly trying to hide?"

"Poorly."

Your hands immediately fly to your face. "The sketchbook…."

A soft sigh leaves him. "You've said that several times now."

"Because this is horrifying., and i have no clue what i’ve done to deserve a fate like this."

"I disagree."

You slowly lower your hands. "You disagree?"

"Yes."

"How?"

He finally closes the book and sets it aside. "Because if I were in your position, I simply wouldn't carry around a notebook containing several hundred drawings of someone. That’s certainly a way to avoid this fate." He says, taking a sip of his coffee.

You stare. He stares back. The audacity.

three parts. I hate tumblr with a passion. part 3