#this is how you write a time travel fic

[bekala]

Historical Fic Resources

Anyone else writing a historical AU? Time travel? What about something just not modern?

Want some cool resources to make stuff more accurate and period realistic? Love primary sources? Just like looking at old things?

here are things!

Green's Dictionary of Slang: let's you pick a time period, a meaning, and even a general location and will then spit out a list of slang words that were used in that time to make your dialogue more realistic

Life Magazine Archives: Every issue of Life Magazine from 1936 to 1972 digitized, searchable, and available for free to scroll through to get idea of the times

Good Housekeeping Archives: Every issue of Good Housekeeping from 1885 to 1950 digitized with linked tables of contents for free courtesy of Cornell

Billboard Magazine: Mixed issues from 1942 to 2010 digitized, searchable, and available for free to scroll through for music news and culture

Old Magazine Articles.com: A massive organized archive of scanned and collected articles. It's organized by topic and then by decade and includes everything from pop-culture and fashion to politics to UFOs.

Newspapers: A massive collection of links to digitaized newspaper archives including ones dating back to pre-civil war

General Primary Sources: Just everything. The tabs at the top will take you to lists and lists and lists of stuff. Just click around

[necrotic-nephilim]

there is not enough femslash in batcest circles. the girls deserve to be just as weird about each other as the boys are. if BruDick gets to be weird father/son/brothers/lovers/friends/rivals/soulmates then it is only fair that Babs/Cass get to be mother/daughter/sisters/lovers too. Something about that deep intrinsic but undefinable love that is born out of trauma, especially if you consider Cass not knowing what healthy love looks like in the first place. i think it's fun and deserves just as much fandom content.

besides that, you can get even more niche with rarepairs like Helena/Steph. Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma is already a fantastic comic and even though it's their only real canon interaction it has so much potential. very comparable to TimJay in how Helena tries to get Steph to understand her morals and the corruption you could play with it.

batman: huntress/spoiler: blunt trauma (1998)

that comic also highlights on how both Steph and Helena are outcasts of the Batfamily and don't have the approval of Bruce to be doing what they do in "his city". I think there's so much Potential in Helena taking Steph under her wing because Bruce won't let her in and it becomes a weird codependent toxic sapphic mess. I think the protectiveness Helena feels over Steph from the get-go is so clear and the way she wants to look out for Steph, wants to make sure Steph understands the real world? I love them. Helena should be allowed to steal Steph, actually. I think it'd be fun.

there are a lot of other possibilities too like Babs/Steph or even getting weird with Helena Bertinelli/Helena Wayne and the existential question of "is it selfcest or not." But these two specifically live in my head rent-free, especially Helena/Steph and one day I'll convince everyone else to ship it too.

[trashyon]

pov: you're the ipc goon who grabbed onto stelle

HI I AM BACK to again promote Cadence of Time because it is just that amazing *sobs*

i have so many jingstelle feels after the latest chapter and theyre just so 🤌🤌🤌

ANYWAY PLS GIVE THE FIC AND AUTHOR LOTS OF LOVE

[crispyjenkins]

FINALLY got you on my dash again, only to discover you've written an AC fic that you are giving us dribs and drabs of, heathen *shakes prison cell bars* please tell me more about "Miles" before I combust

HI UR MY NEW FAVORITE (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

  “Your name is not Miles.”

  Desmond tenses for a barely a moment before relaxing again, and doesn’t bother to look up from the hidden blade he’s tweaking to have a faster release. Even if he didn’t recognise the voice, the dark blur leaning against the doorjamb out of the corner of his eye would tell Desmond sure as anything who had come to haunt the armoury at his side. “Of course it isn’t,” Desmond eventually mutters to Francesco Vecellio, the only one of Ezio’s brotherhood to wear dark gray instead of white.

  Francesco snorts, eyeing Desmond from under the beak of his hood, Desmond’s own pushed down around his shoulders to better see by lantern-light. “You should have thought to pick a more common name if you did not want others to question it.”

  “ ’Should have thought to pick anything before I showed up.” He grinds his chisel a little deeper into the metal casing of his blade, and then nearly cuts himself slipping on it when Francesco gives a startled laugh.

  “You didn’t have one prepared?”

  Desmond blinks up at Ezio’s highest-ranked protégé, not sure if he should feel embarrassed or not. “I, uh. Didn’t think that far ahead?”

  And for someone who had managed nine years evading Templars and Assassins both, you’d think he’d have known better.

  The look Francesco gives him tells Desmond he feels the same. “You’re smarter than that, fratellino.”

  Desmond scowls. “Well, obviously I’m not.”

  “... You snuck into the main headquarters of the Italian Brotherhood in less than an hour and then fooled us all into thinking you were supposed to be here for nearly a week — Machiavelli isn’t sure even our Padrone could have managed that.”

  Swallowing uncomfortably, Desmond scoffs and tries to return to his hidden blade, but that still leaves his entire profile in view of Francesco’s far-too-discerning gaze. And he’s the only one other than Desmond to have been training for this since childhood: his observation skills are beaten only by Ezio, and even that is mostly thanks to his Eagle Vision.

  Actually, Francesco is a born Assassin, too, does he have EV?

  “Miles–”

  “Do you have the Sight?”

  They blink at each other, and Desmond isn’t sure who is more surprised by the interruption. Snarky he may be, Desmond has also had politeness beaten into him, and deference besides, and everyone in the Brotherhood had clocked it.

  “To an extent,” Francesco eventually admits, sounding puzzled, “Nothing so refined as il Padrone’s.” He looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “It is... finicky, I can only use it while motionless, and it really only tells me if someone means me harm.”

  Desmond bites back the offer to help train his EV into something far more useful — it would never reach the level of Altaïr’s, or Ezio’s, or Ratonhnhaké:ton’s, because that had more than a little to do with Isu fuckery. However, the Levantine Assassins (at least until Altaïr’s death, though it was Al Mualim who started the practice) were able to train most initiates to have at least some grasp of the technique, as long as they had that genetics-dictated spark to start with. Desmond was lucky enough for his time in the Animus to awaken his own Vision, and living as Ezio slowly mastering it into Eagle Sense had improved it in leaps and bounds for Desmond on the outside, and prepared him for experiencing Ratonhnhaké:ton’s advanced form of it. Though that, and Eagle Sense, never actually awakened in Desmond Miles.

  But “Miles” hasn’t told this Brotherhood that he has Altaïr’s Sight, Ezio’s Gift, partly because Desmond forgot they didn’t know, but now it’s also an active decision, because it would without a doubt make them insist he’s Ezio’s son with even more conviction. And until Desmond has figured out what he’s going to tell Ezio about the whole time-travel–thing, he isn’t going to confirm or deny anything the other members cook up.

  Except Desmond watches Francesco tilt his head, and then his eyes burn golden for just a moment. “Why do you ask?”

  He’s smart enough to guess, but he’s also smart enough not to assume, and patiently waits for Desmond’s response.

  Ahh, fuck it, he’s already screwed up this whole identity thing by talking with Claudia (not that he meant to reveal so much to her but, well, she’s Ezio’s baby sister. And [redacted]. Fuck, time travel is so weird).

  He looks up from his carving again to flash his eyes right back, and is more than gratified to see Francesco glow a steady, deep blue. He tends to avoid looking at the Brotherhood with his EV, he’s too much of a coward to confirm just what they actually think of him, and he’s only looked at Ezio once, before they properly met.

  Francesco smiles in the shadow of his hood, seemingly pleased with Desmond trusting him with such a secret. “Does il Padrone know?” he asks without judgement, and Desmond winces as he looks back down at his tinkering.

  “No, I... I became so used to it that I didn’t think to mention it, and then it had been so long that it was... awkward?” He chuckles nervously at admitting such a weakness, especially when he’s pretty sure this is the longest conversation he’s had with Ezio’s star pupil. He has double blades, for Christ’s sake, despite not being a Master Assassin.

  Oh. Is Desmond jealous of Francesco? Hm, something to think about.

  “And then you did not want the others gossiping,” Francesco agrees, nodding like that is the obvious conclusion. Desmond still doesn’t relax, but he’s glad he didn’t have to spell that out for him.

  Desmond scratches the bridge of his nose awkwardly. “I’m not Master Ezio’s son, but I don’t think any of our siblings would believe me if I tried to tell them that.” And hadn’t finding out his real parentage been an absolute trip; he’s still scarred mentally and physically from it. Which reminds him, he should respond to his mother’s last letter before she begins to worry about him taking too long.

  Having a mother to care about him is... still an experience he’s getting used to. It’s only been, what, two years since he found her again?

  She had glowed a blue so dark it was almost black, a colour Desmond hadn’t seen even once in either of his lives, or the lives he’d lived in the Animus. He knows she kisses her letters before sending them from the indigo left behind like lipstick.

  ... Which is also how Desmond found out he had progressed from Eagle Vision to Eagle Sense, which was also the point he realised he hadn’t told Ezio about his EV in the first place.

  “I believe you.”

  It’s said so simply, Francesco even gives a little shrug, but Desmond whips his head back around and is... absolutely floored. As dehumanised and used as he was in the 21st century, his little jaunt to the past has almost been worse, if he lets himself think about it too hard (and he never does). People don’t just... believe in Desmond.  Something must show on his face, because Francesco offers him a tight smile. Then, blessedly, he changes the subject and nods to Desmond’s hands, “What are you working on?”

-

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Fragile Things (the one where Damas time traveled)

Spargus: a month and a half after Damas rescued Jak from Haven.

Jak seemed to have been waiting for him -- unless he had been stealing dates from the palms in the throne room again, which was a very real possibility.

Damas ruled this out when he saw the conflicted look on the boy's face.

"You're up here early," he said by way of greeting, "I thought you were going to join the field trip to Tributary to get parts for your talk-box."

Jak shrugged and hopped from one stepping stone to the next. "That's later. Had to ask you something first."

He looked...nervous. Like he didn't really want to ask, but couldn't bear to hold the question in.

"Ask away, little one." Damas tousled Jak's hair as he passed him.

He was never going to get over how small Jak was at thirteen. The Jak he knew before almost always managed to dodge him. This Jak never saw him coming. Stranger, this Jak never minded. The Before Jak soaked up any little scrap of kindness with a painful desperation, and so did the Present Jak. But this one didn't shy away from touch. Sometimes he even ambushed Damas in the market to hug him playfully and then run off to get into more trouble.

The second he'd turned to face Jak, the question was flying out of the boy's hands.

"Are you actually my father or something?"

He cringed.

"Sorry. It's just- Never had anybody help me like you, except Daxter."

He didn't use exactly the same signing dialect that Spargus used. It was faster, and a little hard to distinguish tense indicators sometimes, but not so different that Damas couldn't work out what he meant. Jak vocalized sometimes, when he felt comfortable, but they were sounds more than language. And Damas did remember Jak telling him before that he'd spent much of his childhood nonverbal. But it was more jarring than he'd expected when it came from a smaller, softer face. One that reminded him, over and over, of Mar.

"I-"

"And- and Samos always helped Keira but not me and Dax because we weren't his kids, so I couldn't figure out why you're so nice to me if you're not like, y'know, my-" Jak's face reddened and his signs became small and faster. "My dad or something. Sorry. Sorrysorry just forget it."

Damas blinked and realized he'd stopped breathing for a moment. He took a breath and slowly lowered himself to sit on the dais, waving Jak over to sit beside him.

"No, nonono don't apologize. It's- I've been trying to think of how to tell you this for weeks. It's just...going to sound strange."

"As strange as going through a giant transport ring and time going weird?" Jak asked as he gingerly sat down.

"Oh, absolutely." Damas rubbed his chin and glanced at Jak from the corner of his eye.

"I...do not know how closely we are related, to tell you the truth. But the longer you're here, the more certain I become that we do share blood. I just...don't know how many generations back our common ancestor is."

It was the only explanation he could think of for why Jak resembled Mar so closely. Why he looked at him sometimes and saw both of his sons in one face. Why the boy had the same prism-potential in channeling.

"Oh." Jak sat up a little straighter. "Really? I thought I didn't have any family! I mean, there's Uncle, but he's gone all the time."

Damas cleared his throat awkwardly. "There's ah, there's something else."

"What is it?" Now far less tense, Jak leaned in eagerly.

"I...do not know how to explain it, truthfully," Damas sighed, "But I...somehow I lived three years into the future, or saw a vision -- I'm beginning to wonder which it was -- and in that future you- you were there. You- I had taken you in as my own son."

Jak tilted his head, then his eyes flew wide. His mouth dropped open a little. "You saw me? And I was your kid on purpose?!"

"On purpose," Damas agreed, smiling a little at the turn of phrase.

"That's why you came to attack that commander? You were actually looking for me?" Jak scooted closer, and an eager expression began to replace his slightly nervous one.

"Yes," Damas answered gravely, "Because I had seen my future son and I could never leave him behind, even if he didn't know me."

even if you're not interested in being family this time. As long as you're safe, I'm happy- just as long as you're safe!

Jak made a thoughtful sound and propped his chin up on his fists. For a worryingly long time he stared off into space, thinking. Then he smiled, bright and innocent.

"Oh, okay."

Damas blinked. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I was just wondering. I'm glad I asked." He hopped to his feet and stretched.

"You're way nicer than Samos is. I'd rather you be my dad than him."

Damas shoved away memories of a certain Arena debacle. "I...certainly hope to live up to your expectations, my boy."

"Also, it would be weird if Samos tried to be my dad because he's been mean. And because then Keira would be my sister and I don't think she'd like that. I wouldn't either."

The child hopped down the stairs and balanced on one foot on the stepping stones. He pretended to wobble before grinning and hopping to the next stone.

"I'm gonna go to the field trip thing now." Jak beamed and waved. "Bye Damas!"

He all but bounced to the elevator, humming happily.

Damas stayed sitting, not entirely sure what had just happened.

"Well," he said aloud, "that could've gone worse."

[smallblueandloud]

on a much brighter note, i'm thinking about trying to write SNW-era spirk and it's difficult to do, because i cannot fathom a spock and kirk who don't already know that the other is very important to them!

like no wonder the 2009 reboots had to have a character who'd seen the old timeline (much less ambassador spock himself). can you imagine the torture of watching spock and kirk interact without knowing? without being aware of the relationship that would define them and their source materials? like goddamn no wonder you need someone to tell both of them to give the other a chance.

i try to think about SNW-era spirk and my brain immediately wants to either expand on 1x10 a quality of mercy or some sort of soulmate au. but even a soulmate au doesn't scratch the itch, because a soulmate au doesn't even manage to communicate to these characters that they will be very important!! and i can't imagine a spirk without the knowledge of their power.

[dyingturn]

Time travel au where at chapter 2, shin gets voted at the main game and wakes up in his highschool body. And he does everything he can to avoid sou to not get involved with the death game.

Alright, to be honest all I know is that shin met sou at his highschool, thought he was student, realized he wasn't. But they somehow became friends, (or he saw midori as a brother figure?).

I just think it would be funny how shin would react just from going back to class, seeing these people he forgot the names of, and studying... again. Of course he wasn't paying attention to that at all, he's confused, he was literally just fighting for his life to make the Joe ai work before he dies and now he's here?? What if this wasn't even real.

Anyways, he walks down to the hallway, and he sees it. A familiar green rat tailed hair, who's just smiling at him. No- he's dead. But...

Sou approaches him with that eerie smile of his and tries to have a small talk. Instead of answering he just ignores him, and when he pesters him long enough he just glares at him, before running off.

I'm thinking this would probably intrigue sou because shin isn't really acting like his past self and is wondering what event led to this drastic personality change and behaviour. And observes him even more. (Imagine if one day, sou actually transfers to the school just to do that, I know he can't but just imagine--)

(Because if he does, he would be able to pry more information from shin and shin would sometimes slip up when agitated/over confident like what happened at the main game, and sou was able to put together that shin either a) knows about asunaro therefore him b) pretty far fetched but time travel or something similar like false memories c) knows about the death game )

I have no clue how to end this, I'm not thinking of this au as a ship but more of a trying to avoid death flag kind of thing. Maybe he achieves avoiding sou and now lives a pretty normal life, hears about the news of Alice going to prison, not his problem but it Is concerning. And then wakes up at the death game, and was like "not again", but surprisingly, his percentage is different now.

Or maybe y'know, he meets or sees the other participants. The whiplash he gets when he sees keiji without his piss hair, sees q-taro in the television, passing by a delinquent looking mishima or something, I have no clue.

That's basically it. I'm sleeping early today, yeyy.

[inkedhorror]

oh when did that happen...

[ceriseisland]

sird acts like she just wants the worst outcome out of stuff, like i can imagine she wanted silver to reunite with giovanni with the idea of silver following his fathers steps or smth like that in mind. idk let her cook

Yeah, that would fit. Idk if I fully believe it (I don't think there's a single universe where Silver joins team rocket since he's too Silver for that) but it makes more sense than any reason we're given

Idk my personal headcanon for Sird is that she's immortal (was AZ's advisor and got caught up in the ultimate weapon deal) and she can see the strings of fate or something, so she's trying to set up events in a specific way for some overarching plan. Like, she can see how everything will turn out if x action is taken, so she has a hand in everything because she's trying to get the world to a certain outcome. Idk what that it would be but the idea intrigues me

[mariyekos]

My brain is. Absolutely buzzing with fic ideas right now and last night I started on a new one because I felt like i had to at least get the premise down before I lost it, but now I'm nearly 6k words in and oh no I don't have time to get another longfic wip going.... I'm 140k words deep into two other longfics right now 😭 I want to get into it, but I have too many stories fighting for attention in my head and this won't end well if I hop between them all bc I want to finish something for once. Ahhhh!!! Darn you limited time.

[poppy5991]

Telling myself that I will finish Sleight of Hand before I leave for Romania in a week, but realizing that the last chapter might actually need to be two chapters

[villruu]

timetravel fix it except make it even worse would be a fire concept for a marble hornet fic

[midnightcarp]

me: yayy yippee im having so much fun in this fictional world :) maybe we should make something to put in it

my brain: only if you know every detail of what you're writing about. otherwise it doesn't count + it's lame + ooc garbage + L + ratio

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

(I would love to hear your explanations in the tags, as always, share to get a larger data pool!)

[crispyjenkins]

Assassin's Creed fic 👀 I am always a sucker for (good) Desmond Miles fic, hell yeah, would 100% read those if you posted them.

👀 👉👈 you're my new favourite, anon. this isn't close to being done but i'm very fond of it so here's a lil preview~ inspired by esama's study of flight, but with a twist! (gen, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles' a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly)

  Inhaling a careful breath, Ezio pauses half a flight from their destination and Leonardo halts on the step above him, frown deepening in concern. “Ezio?” he prompts, when he still doesn’t say anything.

  Ezio sighs. “We have thirteen recruits now,” he explains, turning to lean his back against the staircase wall; the cool temperature of the stone actually calms him somewhat and allows him to go on, “He’s been with us a few months, now.”

  Tilting his head curiously, Leonardo bends closer to him. “I thought you had stopped recruiting for the time being.”

  “I had.” Ezio rubs over his face quickly, such discomfort usually unsafe to display so openly — then again, Leonardo is hardly his enemy. “One of my discepoli, Adele, noticed him first.”

  “ ‘Noticed him’?”

  “... In my defense, I was away on a long assignment.”

  Leonardo just looks bewildered, an expression that’s usually quite amusing to see on the man, but Ezio can only cough awkwardly.

  “He, ah, was here a week before anyone thought to question him.”

  His old friend blinks slowly at him, Ezio can almost see the calculations happening in his mind, before his whole countenance brightens enough to make Ezio wince. 

  “You mean he infiltrated the Brotherhood? And nobody noticed?” he asks gleefully. “Oh, Ezio.”

  Refusing to flush in embarrassment, Ezio crosses his arms with a humph. “As I said, I wasn’t in the hideout at the time. Geniuses some of my recruits may be, but they all thought I had sent him here. Adele was the one to notice he had previous training, and asked him where he had met me.” Letting out a long breath, Ezio does smile, just a little. “The whelp didn’t even deny having snuck in, ’said that this is where he wants to be and was tired of waiting for chance to put him in my path, or I in his.”

  Leonardo laughs brightly, moving to rest against the wall across from Ezio. “And Machiavelli didn’t kill him immediately?”

  “No, Valeria convinced them all to keep it quiet until I returned from my contract, the little hellions. She even used me as a meat shield when Niccolò finally found out.” Ezio loves his recruits to distraction, they’re his brothers and sisters and siblings and he would gladly die for any one of them. He would also like to never face down Machiavelli’s sword and rarely-used hidden blade ever again. Once was already in excess.

  “And the recruit?”

  “Miles defended himself, of course. At least long enough for Niccolò to become intrigued by his skill.” He’s still testing the theory, but Ezio is fairly certain even the rank of millite is too low for him, though why Miles would be hiding his prowess is a concern all on its own. 

  Leonardo has known Ezio far too long, and far too well to not guess at his unsaid meaning, his lips tugging back into a thoughtful frown. “You think he was trained by another Assassin?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he admits with a sigh. “He certainly wasn’t trained by any of our branches.”

  “Miles, Miles Miles,” Leonardo muses to the sloped ceiling. “Unusual name. Germanic? Or French, perhaps?”

  Ezio had been considering contacting his brothers in Spain, despite being almost positive that Miles wasn’t trained by them; he hadn’t even considered the French branch. Actually, did the French branch even exist anymore? He thinks he recalls hearing of its decimation around the time of the Inquisition.

  “There’s a thought,” he agrees slowly, rubbing his jaw. “I’d have to ask la Volpe or another older member about their fighting styles, I only ever crossed blades with Helene, and she hadn’t been an Assassin in many years by then.”

  “Ah, Helene... Dufranc, was it? Yes, yes, the lovely rogue from Barcelona. ‘Mon petit Assassin’, if I recall correctly?” 

  Glowering, Ezio kicks his friend’s foot at the reminder of the nickname he only escaped upon return to Italy. Some of his Spanish brothers still tease him about it in their letters. “I regret ever telling you about that,” he grumbles, much to Leonardo’s amusement. 

  Though, he quickly sobers and meets Ezio’s eyes under his hood, pinning him there easily. “Why am I here, old friend?” he asks, softly, but leaving no room to wriggle out of the answer again.

  He really isn’t making this easy, is he?

  Ezio can only hold Leonardo’s gaze for a few moments more, before he has to look away. “Miles is a bastard from a Veneziana whore. He never met his father.” He needn’t look to know Leonardo gets it immediately, but Ezio still goes on, “My students aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are, and I do not know if it would have occurred to me without their whispers.”

  Leonardo understands this immediately, too. “Ah, does he not bear significant resemblance to you, then?”

  Ezio shakes his head. “My recruits seem to think so, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten far too in my head about it and am no longer sure if what I see is simply what I want to see.”

  “Oh, Ezio,” Leonardo sighs, standing straight to reach across the narrow space between them and put a hand on his shoulder. “I would be glad to meet him, old friend. Then, after, we will sort all this out, just as we always have.”

  Despite himself, Ezio finds himself relieved by the comfort, and reaches up to squeeze Leonardo’s hand, before removing it and stepping away. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and nods to the bottom of the stairs. “Miles is usually sparring one of his brothers or sisters around now, come with me.”

  “Or siblings,” Leonardo reminds him with a soft laugh, following at his heel.

[benevolenterrancy]

what sort of fic are you writing right now? (i hope you feel better)

In the truest act of fandom, I'm shamelessly slamming my current interests into each other and am writing a Torchwood/MASH fic

I'm at 24k words of self-indulgent time travel shenanigans, as I write for a very literal audience of one person (me, myself, and I)