Writing Tips~

Oof thank you, Sol

How I wish Lesson 8-8 would have went:

It's always bothered me the lack of options we have when Lucifer threatens us so I decided to write something. I've been meaning to write this for a while and the inspiration finally struck. This is not beta read.

💫 MC is GN 💫

Warnings: mild language maybe, intimidation, slight pain

“So ya know as long as you don't have a partner I guess I could maybe go ahead and pair up with you for a little bit,” the white-haired demon suggested with a bit of blush on his cheeks.

MC resisted the urge to roll their eyes at Mammon and quickly downed the champagne they were drinking.

“Mammon, why not just admit that you want to dance with MC?” Satan teased with a knowing smirk.

MC sighed and set the champagne flute down on a tray as a server walked by, tuning out of the conversation as their eyes swept over the dance floor. By this time, Levi had joined in and they heard the words “tsundere” and “LMAO”. Leviathan was the only person MC had met in their life that said “LMAO” out loud. It was hard to believe that this was the same demon that almost killed them a couple of weeks ago. If it wasn't for Lucifer, they would have surely been dead and on their way to, hopefully, the Celestial Realm.

Lucifer. MC grimaced at the thought of the demon.

“MC, come dance with me. Now.”

MC felt their spine stiffen as he appeared in front of them. “Speak of the devil,” they grudgingly thought to themself.

“No,” MC replied simply. They did not want to play these games with Lucifer today. If he thought that MC would just roll over and -

“I do not believe I offered you a choice,” Lucifer said and firmly grasped MC’s wrist, pulling them onto the dance floor.

MC glared at Lucifer, their eyes boring holes into the back of his head as he led them through the throng of dancing couples.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asked, turning around to face MC.

“Do you know how to take ‘no’ for an answer?” MC shot back at him, feeling the anger they normally managed to quash starting to come bubbling up to the surface.

Lucifer let out a dark chuckle at that, one hand taking MC’s in his own while his other encircled their waist. He stretched his wings out to their full length as his eyes pierced through MC.

“Do not test my patience, MC,” he warned, warm breath fanning over their neck.

MC clenched their jaw in annoyance but nodded stiffly.

Lucifer pulled them in close as he took the lead. It had been a while since MC did any type of ballroom dancing but they were able to match his pace. They would not let this demon intimidate them.

“In general, there are all sorts of reasons why one might ask someone else to dance,” Lucifer began.

MC narrowed their eyes.

“I don't remember you asking me,” they hissed as he spun them briefly and pulled them back against him.

Lucifer only smirked and continued, “For example, they might be interested in them, they might want to touch them, or they might simply be doing it out of politeness.”

“None of which is why you asked me. Get to the point,” MC growled refusing to wince as he lightly dug his nails into their back - a warning.

“Or it could be because they want to have a private conversation,” he whispered into their ear as he turned with them before adding, “What is it you're plotting with Asmo?”

He suddenly dipped MC before pulling them up, grip tightening around their hand and their waist. MC flinched at this, their body tensing up as the demon leaned in closer to them.

“Let me make one thing clear: I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to either Diavolo or us...then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

His grip tightened even further and MC tried desperately to wrench their hand from his own. It hurt. Lucifer was holding them so tight that they couldn't move their upper body. MC saw red.

Ever since they were forced into this exchange program against their own free will they had been bullied, intimidated, and belittled by these demons. Not that most of them hadn't come around and ended up becoming good company but MC had just had enough. They raised their foot and slammed it down on top of Lucifer’s. MC used his surprise to wrench themself free from his grasp.

Lucifer’s anger flared and MC could see the dangerous aura radiating around him. Just as he was about to grab them by the throat, Solomon cut in between them.

“Pardon me. Well, looks like a new song has started. I'd love the chance to dance with MC. Might I cut in?” The sorcerer asked, looking between the two of them and hoping it was enough to stop whatever storm had been brewing between the two.

MC let out the breath they were holding and shot Solomon a grateful look.

Lucifer took a moment to answer, quelling his anger towards the exchange student that he was just about to squeeze the life out of. He could not murder them. It would cause Diavolo’s exchange program to fail but he would not forget this moment.

“...Fine. I get the feeling that you've gotten the message and you understand what I'm telling you, MC. I'm glad we got to have this little talk,” he spoke with a quiet kind of fury that betrayed that last sentence.

“Likewise. Message received,” MC replied in a cold tone, looking into his eyes with a hardened gaze.

They felt a bit smug when he turned and walked away with just a slight limp for only a split second before wondering if they had just dug themself an early grave.

“...You look pale and Lucifer looked like he was about to murder you. What happened?” Solomon’s concerned inquiry brought them back to the present.

“Just Lucifer being, well, Lucifer,” MC replied, not wanting to divulge too much information, “Thank you for coming to my rescue there.”

“No need to thank me. Think nothing of it. This is the Devildom. When it comes down to it, you're human, and that makes you different. Never forget that,” Solomon replied, leading them into a new dance.

His grip was much gentler and less controlling. MC was grateful for that. They had enough manhandling for one night.

*casually slides a guitar over to Seph*

He spends nearly forty minutes strumming it tunelessly to almost comical degrees. Which royally pisses him off because he hates that he's not a natural at it like everything else.

Spends a week in the library aggressively glaring at a selection of instrument guides.

Comes back, picks it up, conducts a single immaculate set of chords and twangs, then proceeds to never touch it again. There. Ego satisfied. He needs his hands in good condition for swordplay anyway.

---

Useful for my stories 😚

words to use instead of

as 

while 

when,

whilst

 even as

 just as

 just when

 simultaneously as

 so long as

 at the moment that

 at the same time that at the time that

 in the act of

 in the process of 

on the point of

during the time that

 at the same time as

 during the time

 throughout the time

 in the time

 during which

 during which time

for the period that

 at the same time

 meanwhile

 at the time

 as long as

 exactly when

 at the very moment that

at the very time that after

 as soon as

 immediately when

 immediately after

instantly when once

looked

glanced 

gazed 

stared

gaped

peered

focused 

 peeped 

peeked

took a look

taken a look 

watched

considered 

saw 

seen

observed 

viewed

regarded

marked 

checked out

glimpsed 

spotted 

eyed 

took in 

taken 

in ogled

eyeballed 

beheld

beholden 

before

ahead

back

previously

since

sooner

afore

aforetime

ante

antecedently

anteriorly

before present

ere

fore

former

formerly

forward

gone

gone by

heretofore

in advance

in days of yore

in front

in old days

in the past

past

precendently

previous

up to now

smiled

beam

grin

laugh

smirk

simper

be gracious

express friendliness

express tenderness

look amused

look delighted

look happy

look pleased

touch

brush

caress

feel

handle

hit

kiss

lick

pat

reach

rub

strike

stroke

tap

abut

adjoin

border

communicate

contact

converge

dab

examine

finger

fondle

frisk

glance

graze

grope

inspect

join

line

manipulate

march

massage

meet

neighbor

osculate

palm

palpate

partake

paw

percuss

pet

probe

push

scrutinize

sip

smooth

suck

sweep

tag

taste

thumb

tickle

tip

toy

verge

be in contact

butt on

come together

feel up

impinge upon

lay a finger on

exhaled

breathe

emit

give off

let out

discharge

eject

emanate

evaporate

expel

issue

respire

steam

vaporize

nodded

acknowledge

bend

bow

greet

respond

salute

acquiesce

agree

approve

assent

passionate

ardent

dramatic

eager

eloquent

emotional

expressive

fervent

fierce

fiery

forceful

heartfelt

heated

impassioned

intense

poignant

spirited

strong

vehement

violent

zealous

affecting

animated

blazing

burning

deep

fervid

flaming

frenzied

glowing

headlong

high-powered

high-pressure

hot

hotblooded

impetuous

impulsive

inspiring

melodramatic

moving

precipitate

quickened

steamed up

stimulated

stirring

thrilling

warm

wild

but

although

however

nevertheless

on the other hand

still

though

yet

gasped

choke

snort

whoop

blow

convulse

gulp

heave

inhale

inspire

pant

puff

respire

sniffle

wheeze

catch one’s breath

fight for breath

frowned

glare

glower

grimace

pout

gloom

lower

sulk

cloud up

do a slow burn

give a dirty look

give the evil eye

knit brows

look black

look daggers

look stern

movement

act

action

change

development

evolution

exercise

flow

migration

move

operation

progress

shift

advance

agitation

alteration

swirled

boil

churn

roil

twirl

whirl

agitate

coil

crimp

crisp

curl

eddy

purl

roll

snake

surge

swoosh

whirlpool

whorl

wriggle

Malik's death in Revelations was tragic and violent enough as it is, but if you take into account how Altaïr's relationship with Malik began, it feels very targeted on Abbas's end.

Think of how it began with Altaïr's worst mistakes, getting his younger brother killed and Malik's arm ripped off. I'm sure Abbas was there to see him nearly expelled from the brotherhood, I'm sure he heard the fate of the Al Sayf brothers. Only for Altaïr to take that horrible mistake and its consequences and become the best possible version of himself, from unable to handle any responsibility to becoming the youngest mentor the brotherhood ever had. Even his relationship with Malik would go from animosity to close and trusted friend. You could argue that Malik was his GREATEST friend, other than Maria and his own children. The kind of growth and maturity it would take from both of them to get to that point is frankly astounding and for all Ubisoft's faults I think AC1 and Revelations did their due diligence with that

And then Abbas took that all away from him and never let Altaïr move past those mistakes he worked so hard to correct. How do you think he felt, being sent the severed head of the man started his journey with by severing one of his limbs? The mistakes of his youth cost Malik his arm, and now they've cost him his life in such a way that defiled and violated his body even more horrifically, after Malik trusted and loved him like a brother.

I like to think that Malik died protecting Sef from wrongful execution and defending Altaïr's honour. That the man who faced some of the bloodiest consequences of his past mistakes kept his youngest son safe and his reputation intact at the end, even at the threat of death for himself.

Hell, I imagine Malik was a bit of an uncle figure for Darim and Sef growing up. Perhaps the very thing that got him executed in the end was trying to keep Abbas's blades away from Sef.

---

Finally... FINALLY

His card... IS FINALLY MINE

---

Concept: experimental modified time materia brought out in sparring malfunctions somehow and now Zack and the Banora duo have a lil Sephling on their hands

LITTLE SEPH!!!!!! <333 Ahhhh this is glorious!!!

I would love to write this out some day dhdhdhd! I don’t have the full energy rn, but bc it’s such a phenomenal idea, I will try my best with one of my good ol’ fic/synopsis hybrids!

For a long while, everyone just stares, three mouths agape and three eyes struck with lightning. One minute they’re sparring, four swords going at it in at blazing speed. And the next—

“WHAT DID YOU DO, PUPPY?!” Genesis roars, whirling around to face the absolutetively befuddled Zack. See?This is why they don’t invite him to their TRAINING SESSIONS. The squirt was a walking heartbeat of destruction, pop songs, and comically large slip-ups. Nothing ever good happened when he was around.

“Don’t look at me!” Zack tries to defend himself. “All I did was cast Stop!”

Angeal gives a slow, incredulous blink, molasses on his lashes. “You stopped him alright.”

Meanwhile, at their feet, a 3yo Demon of Wutai cocks his head, sitting on his butt, his clothes and armor having conveniently shrunk to fit the size of his regression. Not Masamune though. That thing is abandoned on the floor, unaffected and forgotten.

“…Doc’ors?” Sephiroth blinks, his catlike eyes wide and round and sponging up most of the green in his eyes, his quicksilver hair gushing all the way down to his lap. Who are these people? They’re tall. And big. They aren’t wearing white coats either. One looks strong. One looks like he was ready to explode. One of their heads’ looks like a mop.

Upon hearing him speak, hearing him squeak in his little Seph voice, Zack’s heart completely melts; all his bafflement and paranoia and most likely sense of reality is zapped away as he scoops up the little guy, raising him high in the air Simba-style.

“Ohhh look at you! You’re like a little doll! in ShinRa wear, Seph! Look at those eyes! Those pauldrons! Boop!”

Angeal and Genesis proceed to watch in deadlike silence as Zack boops the little guy’s nose, raising him up and down and up and down and upsy daisy and downsy daffodil. Seph is frozen at first, these gestures completely and utterly alien… but it’s not long before he’s clapping his hands and little giggles are bubbling from his throat. He likes mop head!

“Would you cut that out?!” Genesis roars suddenly—loud enough to startle the poor baby Seph, consequently causing him to start crying in the puppy’s arms. Zack’s face immediately hardens as he hugs Seph close, and now it’s his turn to whirl around in disapproval. Yeah, GENESIS.

“Hey! Be gentle with him!” Zack scolds, little Seph clutching at the fabric of his collar.

“That is Sephiroth, you nimrod! Do you not see the issue here?”

“The issue is that you’re scaring him!”

“He’s… SEPHIROTH.”

Angeal is wondering where the nearest retail shop is hiring.

~

After some intelligent discussion, baby Seph is brought back to Angeal’s place—just for the time being. And here’s where the fun starts! Everyone needs to chip in! Sephiroth is thirsty, first things first, having been plopped on the couch next to Zack. Zack is scrolling through the educational TV channels as Angeal fishes out a water bottle out from the fridge, walking it over—

“What’s that?”

Angeal stops in his tracks, blinking in surprise. “It’s water,” he explains—how is he supposed to talk to his friend? Like a preschool teacher? Like a therapist?

Seph’s confusion doesn’t fade. “Hojo always give me water in bowl.”

Zack pauses on Blue’s Clues.

…Excuse him?

Seph proceeds to explain that Hojo always gives him water—and, and food—in a little bowl that sounds suspiciously similar to a dog bowl. Angeal is dumbfounded, having to move Seph’s hands to hold the water bottle right while Genesis throws some untasty swears out there (covering his ears ofc). Zack, meanwhile, is floating somewhere between anger and an ache he can’t even pinpoint. All he knows is that he’s suddenly hugging Seph close, squishing his doll-sized leather jacket against his chest. That wasn’t cool, glasses man >:(

~

Following water break is play time! Zack whips out some crayons and paper to doodle with Seph while Angeal and Genesis prepare dinner—on a plate, thank you. Zack goes on to doodle some very nice pictures~ a giraffe, a river, a flamingo. He’s laughing and telling jokes with baby Seph—mainly ones about a guy name Nemesis, no parallels there—casually glancing over after a while to see—

“Uh, bud… what’s that?”

Seph had doodles what can only be described as a pile of spaghetti—spaghetti that’s green, and had a face, and was dripping slime, and that had a bloody splotch for one of its eyes.

“I see her in dreams sometimes,” Seph says, surprisingly blanched of emotion. “She visits me.”

Aight! Art time’s over!

~

“SEPHIROTH! GIVE ME BACK MY BOOK!”

No one could have predicted the Zoomies.

It was all going so smoothly…! Seph was pajama-ed, he had his teeth brushed, he was all snug and toasty and ready for bed—!

And he had Genesis’ favorite copy of Loveless. And zipping around the apartment at Mach 5 speed. And bouncing from furniture to furniture. And singing the Blue’s Clues song.

“C’mon, Seph…” Genesis finally corners him, bringing down his voice. “Give it back to your old buddy Genesis.”

“Okie!” Seph chirps, and proceeds to chuck the book with all his prodigious strength, hitting Genesis square in the nose. Bingo! He scored a touchdown!

“Nice shot!” Zack calls from across the room.

~

It’s bedtime! Angeal and Genesis collapse from exhaustion, Seph settled on the couch with a pillow and blankie. Zack takes an air mattress beside him, having even lent his favorite dragon plushie to the little bean to sleep. He loves it! All is well, the apartment falls silent, the craziness of the day and all its sci-fi stupidity fading away into a blessed oasis of peace.

Until the sobbing starts.

The sound low, dim, stifled… a broken song that is being cracked between Sephiroth’s lips. Zack stirs immediately, shaking the little Seph awake and propping him up. Seph’s eyes are streaked with tears, glistening with beads of Mako-blue as Zack delicately gazes at him. His heart pretzels.

“What’s wrong, little bud…?”

Seph snivels, wiping his tears on Muffin the dragon. “I see her. She’s here. She says I should hurt you. Hurt two guys too.” His sobs break into something louder, splintering, and Zack can’t take it a moment longer; he settles himself on the couch and brings little Seph close, cocooning his arms around him, swaddling him, letting him cry into his chest. He doesn’t move, not an inch. Not even as Seph’s sobs slowly ebb and a faint snore replaces them.

Eventually, the warmth bubbled against him, breathing into him in calm, slow zephyrs, Zack closes his eyes and falls asleep.

~

Thankfully, in this case, time materia is temporary! Woooo! It’s a very strange when Sephiroth wakes up in Zack’s arms, wearing onesie pajamas and holding a plushie. Very strange indeed.

“Oh…” Zack pulls back, coral flaring on his cheeks. “Hi Sephiroth!”

Sephiroth doesn’t say a word. He just glances down, absorbing the floofy sleepwear, his expression steely as a block of steel.

“Seph—“

“Don’t.” Sephiroth says, straightening, stepping over his sleeping best friends as he makes his way to the door.

---

THE MISCONCEPTION ABOUT COMMENTING ON FIC

I’ve read all kinds of posts both from writers and readers lamenting about comments on fic. Authors are upset when they don’t get any, readers don’t know what kinds of comments to leave, etc. And it finally clicked in my brain why I think a lot of people don’t bother writing comments. 

And this is what it boils down to:

Writers do not want praise.  We just want to talk about our story. 

I can’t speak for everyone obviously - but I think the majority of writers don’t care so much for the “omg you’re a brilliant writer!!” comments as much as we just want to hear your thoughts on the story. Even if it’s just your thoughts as you’re reading of “oooh x happened! I can’t believe y said this! What’s going to happen now that z has happened?!” We literally just want to talk about what we’ve written like you would with a friend about a tv show. We’re not out here demanding praise like some entitled narcissist. 

While praising our writing skills or writing style is appreciated, it doesn’t need to be said on every fic and every chapter that you read. If you regularly comment on someone’s work that’s telling enough that you like our technique. Readers shouldn’t feel pressured to have to praise a writer’s abilities every time they want to comment. 

In the grand scheme of things, talking about the fic/chapter is actually more helpful to us writers instead of spewing praise. It’s the same with artwork. As nice as it is that people tell me “wow your art is so pretty!” it’s a LOT more useful to me to get comments like “I love their expressions!” or “the lighting on this is gorgeous!” because then I know WHAT people are liking about it. If no one ever comments on my backgrounds, I now know what to improve. If most people comment on liking the expressions, I now know the strong points of my art and can use it to my advantage to make even better art in the future. 

The same goes for fic. If multiple people tell me they liked a certain part of the story I now know that things similar to that are a hit. It’s feedback I can use to improve the story and give my readers more of what they want. Without that I have no idea what they like about the fic.

Talking with a writer about their story also gives them inspiration!! Nothing gets us more in the mood to work on a fic than to have people wanting to talk about it. A lot of times just talking about one of my fics with someone will give me that push to continue working on it. Getting a comment that just says “great chapter” or “you’re a great writer” doesn’t do much to motivate us to continue that particular fic. But if you talk about the story and the characters it gives us motivation to continue working on it, may even give us ideas for future chapters. I would hope that those of you with “comment anxiety” find this approach so much easier than trying to praise the writer every time you read.

So that fic the author hasn’t updated in forever that you’re dying to read? Talk to them about the fic and the elements of the story! It will make the writer want to talk to you about it and will get their mind thinking about it, hopefully inspiring them to continue where they left off. Fics that are left in silence are more likely to be abandoned or even deleted because nothing feels worse than putting your heart into a story to have no one say anything about it. 

TLDR; Writers do not want praise, we just want to talk with our readers about the story itself, and these are the kinds of comments that inspire us to keep writing more. 

@my-life-in-10-years idk if this is what you expected and I did want to do this digitally but I suck at it. I know Luke ties his hair in a bun but I couldn't give up the chance of drawing his hair

---

Barbatos Is So Pretty

You cannot tell me that he isn't pretty. He's even prettier than Asmo! Fuck getting that simeon card! I need to have this card

GN! MC

You spit out your beverage as you stare at Barbatos with wide eyes who's apparently now a woman. Yes. A woman. The butler notices your staring and sighs, knowing that you're staring at him because he's now the opposite gender. "MC, I know that I've changed into a woman but staring is considered rude, you know?"

You quickly snap back to reality and turn away, laughing nervously. "Ahaha, well, I can't help it."

Barbatos sighs once again but smiles nonetheless. "It's fine. It's understandable why you stare but I appreciate it if you don't. Anyway, I'll be off."

You take one last look at Barbatos, watching as he walks away until he's no longer within your sight. Then, you immediately combust, face turning red and you bury your face in your hands.

'He's so pretty!', you thought.

Yes, he was extremely pretty, prettier than Asmodeus even. With his long hair flowing so nicely as he walks, his lips looking softer and plumper than before and his face so feminine and beautiful that you couldn't help but want to touch. He was so beautiful as a woman that you're now questioning if you like him better as a man or a woman.

"Yo!" A hand harshly hits your back, making you jump.

You turn to face Solomon who's looking at you with a smirk. He then puts a hand on your shoulder and leans towards you. "So, what did you think of Barbatos' new look?"

"What?" It took you a while to register his words. "Wait, you did that?"

"Yes, but not intentionally. You see, I was trying out a new spell to make one disintegrate into thin air but I must've put in the wrong ingredient because while I was going to test it on some random demon asshole, I accidentally bumped into Barbatos because I was in a hurry and now here we are." The wizard explains.

"I'm surprised he isn't angry."

"I'm more surprised he hasn't killed me yet."

Internally, you are praising and thanking Solomon for blessing you with such a thing because Barbatos is so fucking pretty as a woman. As if your friend can read your mind, he smirks and pokes your cheek. "You like him better this way, don't you?"

Your face is immediately flaming once again. "N-No! W-Well... Maybe..."

Solomon's smirk widens. "Oh?"

"You can't blame me! He looks so pretty that I... I, well... Gah! Forget it!" You get flustered when you remember Barbatos again.

"C'mon. Don't tell me you weren't looking."

"I am looking respectfully!"

"Liar."

"Shush!"

You cover your face again and shout out incoherent sentences but if Solomon had to guess, he bets you were saying something like, "Barbatos is so pretty, it's not fair."

The wizard laughs and pats your back. "Let it all out, buddy. I gotta admit, if he were a woman, I'd totally try and woo him. Definitely my type."

You turn your head towards Solomon so quickly you might as well be the Flash. "How dare you."

"Just because I say I'd fuck him, doesn't mean I'd actually do that." He laughs, making you glare at him.

Sure, not like you wouldn't do the same.

---

How do Angeal and Lazard feel about Heidegger being a creepy old perv around Sephiroth tho?

Heidegger MOSTLY keeps it it on the down-low, but Angeal and Lazard are observant enough to notice. It definitely creeps them out something fierce, even if Sephiroth himself seems mostly unperturbed. Since he doesn't really want to address the issue, there's not much they can really do. Heidegger outranks both of them.

Hojo, to his utmost credit, would have easily arranged for a little "accident" to befall his colleague if Heidegger ever made an attempt to "soil" his perfect son.

---