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scouts-thingsandrps · 10 months

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Incorrect Across the Spiderverse Quotes

Hobie, texting: Miles, will you please go to sleep?

Miles, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up?

Hobie, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!

Hobie, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon?

Miles, texting: I’m trying

Hobie, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH

Hobie, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

Miles, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Gwen: I feel so burnt out.

Ember: Don’t worry, it'll be over soon.

Gwen: Are you gonna... assassinate me?

Ember: Well not if you’re expecting it.

Gwen: If I run and leap at Hobie, they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Gwen, running towards Hobie: Coming in!

Hobie: No! I’m holding coffee!

Hobie: *Drops coffee and catches Gwen*

Lyla: DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT JOKE WAS FUNNY? IT WASNT. NOBODY IS LAUGHING.

Lyla: *pulls up a graph* THIS IS WHEN YOU TOLD YOUR JOKE, YOU HAVE SONGLE HANDEDLY RUINED COMEDY! IVE ALSO ASKED MANY COMEDY SCHOLARS ON THEIR OPINION OF YOUR JOKE AND THIS IS WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY!

Miguel: I've been researching comedy for the past 20 years, and I have genuinely never seen a joke this bad. We have used quantum physics to look into alternate universes to see every joke made, and yours was still by far the worst.

Lyla: CONGRATULATIONS! YOUVE SINGLE HANDEDLY CREATED THE WORST JOKE IN HUMAN HISTORY! HERES A MEDAL! *pulls up a horrible ms paint drawn star that says "you need help*

Pavitr: I wish I had more enemies.

Hobie: I’m sure you will someday, honey.

Gwen: LOWERCASE LETTERS ARE FOR THE LOWER CLASS!

Hobie: And here we have a capitalist.

Miles: Did you just-

Pavitr: Let us all take a moment to appreciate that all of human history, human language, and the universe itself aligned to make this joke possible.

Pavitr: What does “take out” mean?

Gwen: Food.

Miles: Dating.

Ember: Murder.

Hobie: It can be all three if you’re brave enough

Miles: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Hobie: Several traffic violations.

Gwen: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Ember: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Pavitr: Also, that’s not our car.

Ember: ...I'm pretty sure that place is fire-proof, or something.

Hobie, grenade in hand: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

Miguel: Peter! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover.

Peter B.: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

Jessica: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am.

Miguel: I know I should be focused on the fact that you just came out, but HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

Jessica: I'll offer you some friendly advice-

Miguel: I don't want your advice.

Jessica: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

Miguel, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?

Jessica: Tea.

Miguel: Wrong. It's coffee.

Miles: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world.

Hobie: Unless you're home alone.

Miles: Why are you like this?

Hobie: *mixing different alcoholic beverages together*

Gwen: What are you making?

Hobie: A mistake.

Miles: *makes Pavitr a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Pavitr: *sips tea*

Miles:

Pavitr: *finishes tea*

Miles: Didn't it taste bad?

Pavitr: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Miles, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Pavitr: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Hobie: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

Miles (42): Like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am I actually doing?

Miles (42): How the hell are you still alive?

Ember: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.

Gwen: Is it just me or is instant ramen even better uncooked?

Pavitr: It’s just you.

Gwen, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs?

Miles (42): It means like in hand-to-hand combat.

Gwen: Ohhhh-

Miles: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

#gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #miguel o’hara #jessica drew #miles ‘the prowler’ morales #miles ‘spiderman’ morales #ember jackson #incorrect across the spiderverse quotes #spidersona OC #we have npd

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hesokuri-wars · 2 years

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Are you guys alright? Like, personally? I'm worried about you :[

✨I can only speak for myself, but I’m alright! Sorry to have just vanished without a word. I honestly didn’t intend to and always hoped I’d get back into the swing of this

Last year I started a new job that is really physically and sometimes emotionally exhausting. I’m very happy there!! But I also have 2 part time jobs on top of that, so I’m just a wee bit burnt out and tired lmao

I've been Chronically Offline for a while, not just here; working 5-7 days a week without weekends or holidays means my free time is quite limited. And yeah, that free time has not included Heso at all, so I really can’t answer any questions about the game from the last year even when I am rarely around :/

So like... when will I come back? Will I come back? Big shrug. I do love the game and this community, I just don’t have the energy for it like I used to. So don't get your hopes up, I guess. Sorry

(And yes, I literally can't figure out how to format my mod icon into this post ✌😎✨)

💙Mod Kara

(Actually, it's great that you don't have a mod icon, because I can't be bothered myself to recover my own batch of icons for this post. This is good.)

Heeey, anon. It's super sweet of you to have sent in this ask, so I thank you for your concern. To answer your question, I'm doing fine, too. Like Mod Kara, I've got a job as well, but unlike her, I'm as online as ever, so what's my excuse?

Well, I haven't exactly touched anything Heso-related in... since the last time I posted actual Heso news, whenever that was. At one point, I sort of just stopped opening up the game and mostly left things up to Mod Kara. Truth be told, it's been a long time since I've actively been interested in Heso for a variety of reasons, ranging from my issues with the game itself, my current dedication to other interests, and the admittedly less-than-ideal way that I perceive this blog that I've owned for the past 5 years.

I'm aware that my explanation isn't as... justified as Mod Kara's. She's not active because she genuinely has too much on her plate at the moment, while I'm not active for reasons that can essentially be boiled down to I Don't Want To. Because of that, I do feel some degree of guilt for not being around for people who follow this blog, so I'm not going to bother defending myself. All I can really say without going full-blown TMI is that there are a handful of different factors that contribute to my lack of motivation, and I simply can't take responsibility for a long-term help blog when I'm like this.

Does that mean I'm quitting, or does that mean I'll be back one day? I'll just repeat what Mod Kara said above: Big shrug. I've learned a long time ago that I'm wildly inconsistent, so I'd feel like I'm lying if I committed to one particular resolution right now. And thus... I guess you could say this is a really belated hiatus announcement?

(inb4 anyone asks if we can just get new mods on board: that would be the obvious solution, but those things have only led to mods being cyberstalked. out of the question.)

~Mod Ichi (I’m sorry if I’m late!) As for me... it’s really been a mixture of things! I’ve made a lot of big steps in my life and I’ve gotten a lot more busy at work now that I’ve taken on more roles. I also recently got married so that’s awesome! (Planning the reception party has been so stressful aaa...) My wife and I are also looking to move into a new place soon, so that has also been taxing.

But to be honest, it’s also because on my end, like Mod Ichi, I’ve also been interested in other things. Between work, my social obligations and my other hobbies, my attention has been pulled in a million different directions. I feel really bad and I’m sorry to all of the folks who still follow the blog and look for news / updates.

But all the same, thank you always to everyone for all of your support. It means a great deal and it’s very sweet of you to check on us. ~ 💚 Mod Choro

#mod kara #mod ichi #mod post #omg hi guys we're alive #i struggled to answer this ask. too much to say #mod choro #cries loud

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jaekaicx · 2 years

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I'm late but I just saw the ask thing you rebloged like yesterday, possibly the day before, so I'm here now. Also it's like 23:20

- Things I want to know about you; What's your favorite color? How do you spell the color you get from mixing black and white? What's your favorite number?

- Why I follow you; I saw you around a lot before I actually followed you. It was mostly when I was into toh, I'd see your posts. Then I got into Amphibia and you posted a doodle set of and incorrect quote I posted. I don't think I followed you then, but I remember my sister joking about not following you bc you weren't following me. I don't really care about that stuff, it's just a vivid part of my memory. But around that time, I think it was after the doodle set, I sent an ask about tansmasc Marshall and i kinda just decided i was gonna stay.

- What’s on my mind/what I'm thinking about; I'm worried I'll never be able to write again. I'm not burnt-out, maybe it's the trade class i'm taking on top of highschool, but I just don't have the energy for creativity.

- Make you choose between two things; Apples or Oranges? Grapes or Olives? Sweet or Unsweet Tea?

- A compliment; Idk what classifies as a compliment but I like your art. It makes me smile. And your au is a huge comfort.

- Ask for advice; idk, What helps you fall asleep at night?

- Tell you a secret; I struggle with a lot a social things but this girl has told me multiple times she likes me and I have no idea if she actually means it or if she even means it in that way, idk if I want her to.

- Things I associate you with; he/they, Marshall wu, for some reason acceptance, your froggos au, ninjago, i can't tell if its dark green or dark red but one of those colors my brain associates w/ you the most

- Anything!!; 4 exclamation points is too many, also, my cat doesn't have a tail.

whoa thanks! i guess its speedrun time

- fav color: red; i usually spell it as "gray"; fav number: uhhhhh 57? for no particular reason

- oh cool!! glad you stuck around! maybe i'll try posting more doodle dumps

- huh the trade class sounds interesting, but yeah sorry, that sucks :( hope your schedule clears up soon sending you good vibes <3

- uhhhh oranges, grapes, and uh neither? honestly im not particularly fond of any of these and ive never rly had tea so idk

- aaaa thank you! im so glad :D

- dude your asking the wrong person i am literally writing this at 00:13 and i start school in the morning kfhksbdksns

- ok honestly i also struggle a lot w social stuff so i do not know what to add, other than i wish you best of luck with that

- hell yes! my life goal is to make people associate me with red so! success!! and idk if i should be, but i feel. proud? to be associated with all of those, thats rly cool !! the acceptance bit is really interesting

- sucks that you cant send pictures in anonymous asks bc otherwise i'd demand some cat pictures >:0 /not forced

#akhfjshdj sorry the secret bit isnt supposed so sound sarcastic or anything i rly hope that turns out alright #you didnt have to do the whole thing but thank you!! this was fun!!#i love getting asks! just gotta get better at responding to them lol #j answers #ask #anon #anonymous #k.txt

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #stephen strange x you #tony stark x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #fun fact: ironstrange x reader was the ship that blocked the suez canal #source: me im the most reliable

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aly-kurta · 3 years

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I wanted to do this since a long time .... I'll upload infos about my HxH oc!

Friendly reminder that I'll lovely accept advices and constructive criticism! Just do not spread random hate. <3 Creating characters should be fun, not something people should insult each other for!

CW: mentions of violence and family loss.

Imagine having a serious oc but the only decent drawing you have is one where they are embarassed.

Okay, let's start this.

BIOLOGICAL INFO

Name: Lewis

Meaning of name: "Illustrious warrior"

Gender: Female

Age: 18 years old

Date of Birth: 27th January (Aquarius vibes biatch)

Place of Birth: Lukso, Kurta clan (don't worry there's a reason for her survival)

Height: 1,57 cm

Weight: 51 kg

Blood type: 0-

Hair: wavy and dark brown. Shorter behind and longer on the sides.

Eyes: brown. her eye shape is sharp, giving her almost all the time a judging and serious look.

Skin: pale, there are a few white scars on her body due some fights.

Body: thanks to the training her father made her pass throught in order to be capable to protect herself, Lewis has an athletic and kind of muscular body. Sometimes it's difficult for her to keep up fighting and training due an illness concerning her legs' bones.

OCCUPATION + PERSONALITY + CLOTHES

Occupation: Blacklist hunter. She's willing to accept assignments from wealthy families (for example, Nostrade's family), but the quest, in order to be accepted, can not surpass boundaries set up by Lewis herself.

Personality: at first glance, Lewis can come off as a sarcastic but overall serious and cold brat. Due her being cautious, random friends and chit chats are a big "no", she will low her standars if the she finds someone intersting and cultured. In fact, for her, culture and intelligence count more than everything else. Her realistic, harsh irony and coldness may soften if someone forms a strong bond with her (but if you think they will be safe from her scarcasm, oh boy, you're so wrong). Slowly, her enthusiastic and curious side will come off. Small warning: joke about her height and you'll get lovely beaten up.

Likes: books, learning, smart people, cats, traveling, fighting.

Hates: ignorant people, loud noises, seeing children and innocent people suffer, killing without any particular reason.

Clothes: total black style, so it's easier for her to not be seen in the dark and during the night. She wears a sleeveless jumper, with shorts and high boots. She also wears her father's gloves in his memory and a neckacle with a blue pendant in hyaline quartz.

NEN AND FIGHTING SKILLS

Nen type: transmuter. Her hatsu consists in transmuting her aura in heat, elevating the temperature until the creation of flames ( red flames are the "weakest", the strongest one are blue -purple flames, said to reach 1400 degrees on the Celsius scale). In order to protect herself from the flames, she wraps a little bit of aura around herself, but sometimes her skin gets burnt from her hatsu, thats why she counts more on a "speed" strategy more than a "strenght" one.

When her scarlet eyes are active, she become a Specialist (I deduced every Kurta does and not just Kurapika, since the scarlet eyes are a really particular thing, what do you guys think?). When in this state, her flames and explosione created by them are way more intense and her aura gets wider. But obviously she has an harsh condition: in order to use it she has to use her own body as fuel (so that's why she has to eat regularly, not allowed to be weak).

When the scarlet eyes aren't active, her nen uses her energy and, when in En, external resources in an area of 9 meters as fuel (so if you feel yourself or the air around you becoming cold, you better keep constant distance from her).

Fighting style (hand-to-hand): her father trained her to muay thai.

TRIVIA

Her father taught her how to play the violin, but she does it rarely due painful memories;

She admires Gon's desire to meet his father because she understand that feeling, she would do anything to meet her mother or remember more and more about her;

She is inspired to Lewis Carroll, the writer of "Alice in Wonderland". Why? Originally she was a BSD and Carroll is my favourite writer together with Tolkien;

She often scolds Kurapika because he is careless about himself;

Lewis has met Hisoka before. She was in search for money and ended up fighting with him.

Why did I make her a Kurta? Six years ago, when I created her (and I didn't watch HxH) I added this thing about her eyes having a red hue when angry due her ability. Then I watched HxH and was like "wtf Lewis";

The meaning behind the name "Lewis" helped me defining her personality;

I lowkey ship her with Kurapika because of their personalities becoming even more complex when together. Their story is a whole mess because they believe that by becoming a couple, they'd just destroy each other.

BACKSTORY

Lewis was born in Lukso, along with her beloved twin brother. Her family was watched with doubt and oddity by the other members of her clan due both her parents being Hunters.

Her mother, a Virus Hunter, passed away when Lewis and her brother were five years old, so their father, a Blacklist Hunter, took the responsibility to teach them about self-defense, the outside world and to always have a goal in life. So the twins grew up knowing how to fight and the desire of making their life complete.

After her 13th birthday, Lewis decided to take the Hunter Exam (because she wanted it? Well yes, but she also aimed at making her father proud). Succeding the exam to exit the clan and greeting her people, she started her journey to get her Hunter License.

Once she got the license, after a long road, Lewis was ready to return to her forest with pride and victorious and show her clan what she was worth. So you can imagine how she felt when during her return trip she heard about the slaughter of the "demonic Kurta clan".

So pained that she couldn't even manage to return to her home, Lewis strayed for two years and half on the streets, living off the duties of a Blacklist Hunter, and then affording a decent house in Yorknew city.

What do I do now, she asked herself. Her desire to make the Troupe pay for their genocide marched together with her will to follow her father and her brother's desire: help the weake, live life to the fullest and become the best version of your soul.

That's how Lewis lives, the grief and rage battling against the desire to go on and live for herself. What will win this fight?

YORKNEW ARK

So time passes on and Lewis decides to try and get the eyes of her clan that will be exposed to the Auction.

How can she achieve this little goal? Of course she had money, but not that much to afford her purchase.

That's how she ended up meeting two little boys who came there for a videogame called "Greed Island" and a man. Their names were Killua, Gon and Leorio.

Lewis' first plan was just to do something similar to a business contract, you help me and I help you. But her planning mind didn't take in consideration the fact that this move would have changed her life.

When she told the three boys what she wanted to buy at the Auction, the group immediatly looked at each other, asking her what she found amusing about a pair of eyes took away from some innocent person.

"Let's call it... personal interest" she answered. Her vague response ringed a bell on Killua's mind, making him thinking she was a member of the infamous Phantom Troupe.

Gon, Killua and Leorio immediatly came up with a plan to make that misterious girl confess her identity and show them her spider tatoo. The plan was perfect and the three of them, after a week, cornered Lewis, ready to attack.

Little did they know about her being sligthly annoyed by this "betrayal".

Leorio's jaw almost dropped to the floor when Lewis' scarlet eyes came out instinctively. The kurta quickly hid her face but it was too late.

Gon was confused because... how did she survive the massacre?

Killua meditated if it was the case to rush and call Kurapika. Or was it a trick to prove false innocence?

With lots of sighs and sarcastic jokes like "yeah I'm the boss of that shitty Troupe, wanna come at our Christmas dinner this year?", the girls sat down and waited for that Kurapika everyone was talking about. It would have been better to kill the three boys and escape but she couldn't push herself to see life escaping Gon and Killua's eyes. They were kids and they didn't hurt her in any way yet... and the way their eyes shone, specially Gon's ones.

And so, she waited until a blonde boy stormed into the room in a rush.

What was even happening? Who was he? These question made her head fuzzy from all the thinking.

"You have scarlet eyes, don't you?" the boy approached her.

"And what if I do?" Lewis coldly looked at Kurapika.

Gon pointed out at Killua how the temperature lowered in the room.

"Show me your eyes" Kurapika said with a commanding tone.

"Don't play with fire, boy, or you'll get burnt"

Leorio interrupted the two of them: "he's a Kurta too don't worry!"

Kurapika scolded Leorio with an angry look just before realizing what he meant.

"Another... survivor?" he looked at Lewis "no it isn't possible..."

The two of them were shocked and couldn't even process the deed. They weren't alone?

"Let me use the Dowsing Chain on her, so I can state that it's the truth and not a mischevious trick.

Still shocked and confused, all of them made sure about the truth: Lewis was in fact a Kurta.

How will this twisted story reach its end? Lewis will decide to help Kurapika retrieve their clan's eyes. Will their opposite lifestyles and dreams go well together? Will Lewis succed to reach the "better version of her soul" and help Kurapika do so? Or maybe they'll both drown in the abyss of loneliness and self sacrifice?

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

AU: Gateway Drug | "Forty-Something" [PT. 1]

[Pt. 2 HERE]

**This was not my idea, the credit goes fully to an anon that suggested it!!

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1988

"Shh!" I try not to laugh at Izzy as he nearly trips coming around the corner, bracing himself against the wall as I'm tucked under his arm to help him keep his balance.

"When the hell did this get here?" He asks in reference to the wall, fumbling for his key when we get to his room.

"You gotta slow down some, Izzy." I tell him softly as he struggles to get the door open but he eventually does.

"I know, I know, I hear Axl bitch at me about it constantly, trust me I know." He rolls his eyes, careful not to drop his cigarette as he reaches for a lighter.

He can't steady his thumb enough to light it, though, and I sigh and snatch the lighter from him, lighting the cigarette before he can complain.

"Thanks." He falls back on the bed, chuckling a little as I stand at the foot of the bed, my arms crossed. "Don't take this the wrong way but you look hot even when you're knocked up."

"And you're high." I roll my eyes. "And drunk." I add. "And I'm leaving you to it because I'm tired."

I go to leave but he sits up.

"You can crash here." He offers and I raise my brows.

"Izzy, if this is a part of some grand scheme to be the next in line to have sex with me--"

"--You're pregnant. I don't fuck pregnant chicks." He wrinkles his nose, laying back down.

"Gee, thanks." I mumble, crawling onto the bed and laying on my back beside him.

In a moment of quiet I glance over at him smiling smugly.

"What?" He questions, taking notice.

"You love me so much you don't even know how to handle it." I tell him.

"Like hell I do." He denies it in a sharp scoff.

"You don't want me to leave you."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"We're friends." I say next.

"No, we're not."

"You love me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I keep my smile for a few more moments, before I close my eyes.

I feel him scoot the tiniest bit closer to me before settling down, too.

"Psst," he says in a few minutes and I open an eye and look at him.

"What is it?"

"You wanna get married?"

I furrow my brows and turn to face him fully.

"How the hell do you go from denying we're even friends to wanting to marry me?"

"I'm high and drunk, like you said." He admits and I sigh, shaking my head a little as he clears his throat. "You and Nikki are getting divorced, you and Duff aren't together, either...everybody I know is getting hitched. I'm left out." He shrugs.

"Be thanking God." I tell him and he chuckles.

"Oh, c'mon. It wouldn't be that bad." He argues. "It would work out because Duff's in the band so he'd get to see the baby all the time so you wouldn't have to worry much with working in visiting and stuff. My mom would fucking love you, your dad already likes me...we've already seen each other naked so we know what to expect." He adds.

I hit his arm and glare at him.

"Well, we're together a lot so we know each other's habits and stuff...I think it could work."

"You're high. And drunk." I reiterate, getting back on my back. "And full of shit."

"Okay, what about that old pact that desperate lonely people make? Like, 'if we're forty something and neither of us are married, we'll get married to each other'?"

Knowing that by the time we're in our forties we most definitely won't be single, I humor him.

"Izzy, if we even make it to forty-something, and you're sober and have your shit together, I'll marry you." I agree.

"Deal," he holds his hand out for me to shake, and I do.

"Now go to sleep." I urge, turning over to face away from him.

"The cold sex shoulder is already starting to settle in and we aren't even together yet." He aggravates and I reach my hand back and swat at him, making him laugh.

1989

"Izzy, stop touching it!" I bark, hitting at his hand.

"Viv, I'm good, that fucking pixie stick didn't do shit." He bites back, his fingers on his nose as I'm holding ice to it.

"Jeffrey Dean Isbell." I snap.

"Vivian Estine Kinston." He says right back.

"Fine!" I shove at his nose and he winces.

"Jesus fuck, Vivian, I said it doesnt hurt to touch it, not fucking reset the bone, damnit!" He gripes in pain.

"Oh, no, that fucking pixie stick didn't do shit." I remind him. "And you deserved it, by the way."

"Here we go," he grumbles, leaning his head back in the car.

"No, I mean seriously, Izzy. Drunk or not you can't go one night without being a complete asshole to a woman? Especially if they're your friends' wife, you're supposed to have extra respect for them, jesus."

"I'm not friends with that little squealy bitch." He declares.

"You still respect his wife. You don't pull her dress up and then hit her when she raises hell at you for doing it."

"I didn't hit her, I karate chopped her. There's a fucking difference." He informs.

"Either way, you're a moron."

"And you're a bitch."

"I don't take anything seriously from someone who snorts so much coke he only has one nostril because the size of the hole burnt into his septum." I hiss.

"That's perfectly fine because I never took anything you've said seriously just because." He doesn't miss a beat before he drops the ice for a moment to light a cigarette.

"You're such a jackass."

"Are we saying vows right now?" He asks in reference to our insults.

"I said when you're sober and forty-something, although right now I don't see you making it to forty-something."

"We should probably go ahead and consummate it, then."

"Oh, gee, how tempting, I don't know how I'd possibly ever resist such an idea." I sarcastically let out and roll my eyes.

"Vegas is only a few hours away," he points out.

"The loss of blood from your nasal cavity is definitely getting to you." I scoff.

"Viv, what could possibly be so bad about marrying me?" He blows smoke put of his mouth.

"Well, for one, when you want a girl to marry you, you don't ask her while you're strung out or on a coke binge or drunk. You don't ask her while blowing cigarette smoke in her face, and you certainly don't ask her after getting your face beat in for sexually harassing and physically assaulting your acquaintance's wife."

"I was fucked up, and that doesn't make it alright or whatever but I really do feel like shit about it, you know."

"Then you need to call Vince as soon as you can and explain that to him and apologize to him and Sharise. Because it really embarrassed her and hurt her feelings." I tell him.

"Then will you marry me?"

"I'm not talking about this anymore, Izzy, drop it."

"Fine." He doesn't argue...but I do see him glance at me from the corner of my eye, a smirk on his lips.

1990

"Tommy, I can't just up and fly out to Toronto tomorrow because me and Duff are going up to visit his family for a few days with Monroe." I explain, putting mascara on.

"Well, think about it alright?"

"Tommy, I'm not thinking about it, there's no way for me to go to Seattle and Toronto at the same time."

"Well--"

"--I'll see you guys in a couple weeks, anyway, so what's the deal?"

"The 'deal' is that you act like you don't want anything to do with us now that you and Nikki aren't togther anymore." He accuses.

"That's not true."

"Anytime you come out to a show is if Sharise or Heather are out on the road, too, and you just hangout with them the whole time and avoid us."

"Gee, Tommy, could that possibly be because you idiots wore me down so much over the course of six years that I just don't have the energy to even be around you too much even when you're sober?"

There's silence on the other line.

"Not trying to be an ass, Tommy, but it's the truth. I love you, but I can't make it to Toronto. I'm sorry."

More silence.

I just sigh and hang up, finishing my makeup before I hear a horn honking out front.

"Monroe," I peek my head into his nursery, seeing his butt up in the air, thumb in mouth, tiny snores coming from him.

I gently shake him awake, picking him up when all else fails, heading to the car.

As soon as I get out there, I hand Monroe to Izzy, who's behind the wheel, as I get Monroe's carseat in his car.

Once the toddler is locked in, I get in the passenger side and let out a breath.

"You alright?" He asks me.

"Yeah, just...a lot...I told Tommy I didn't want to go see them because I don't have the energy to be around them now that they're sober due to how they acted for so long when Nikki and I were together."

"So...you don't want to be around them, but you'll come be around all of us." He points out.

"I'd rather be in a room full of messed up Guns N' Roses than sober Mötley Crüe."

"Ouch." He mumbles.

"So, where we going?" I ask him.

"The courthouse." He explains.

"For what?"

"To get married." He answers casually.

"Ha, ha, funny...seriously where are we going?"

"To the courthouse to get married." He says, again.

"Izzy. That's not funny." I state.

"I'm glad it isn't because I'm being serious, Viv."

"Izzy, no you're not."

"Yeah, I am."

"Stop the car." I order and he sighs, slowing down.

"Damnit, Viv." He says as I open the door and get out, feeling too trapped in the car. "Now, you know I've been asking you for the past two years, Viv, I'm tired of hearing, 'no'. You think I'm kidding when I ask you but I'm being serious."

"You can't be serious, Izzy, because it literally came out of nowhere the first time you even suggested it! 'Everybody else is doing it and I'm left out' is a shitty reason to want to marry someone--and you're not even four months sober! The last time a high idiot told me he wanted to marry me, I said, 'yes,' and I was in hell for it for years! So, yes, Izzy, I apologize if I wasn't taking you seriously all the times you've asked me about it because the idea in itself is just so freaking ridiculously stupid, I thought surely you'd have more sense than to think we could!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Good! We aren't even friends anyway so screw you!" He throws at me.

"wE aReN't EvEn FrIeNdS aNyWaY sO sCrEw YoU." I mimic his voice, walking around to get Monroe, who's still sleeping, out of the back.

"Viv, get back in the car."

"No."

"Vivian, get back in the damn car."

"No!"

"Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?!"

"The same reason you have to be so full of shit!"

1991

"Monroe don't run!" I chase after the three year old backstage, grabbing his sides before he can get away from me.

"Where's daddy?" He asks me with a chuckle, fingers in his mouth, his eyes switching over people passing by.

"I don't know, baby, but we can go find him." I suggest.

"Yeah!" He excitedly exclaims.

"Yeah!" I reply, laughing…

"I said 'this' much cranberry and 'this' much Vodka, man!" I hear Duff complain, followed by the splattering of liquid hitting the floor.

I turn the corner to see Duff face to face with their manager.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Monroe kicks his legs, wrestling to get down.

"Monroe—"

Duff looks at us, this look coming to his face.

"H-Hey, man." He walks over to us, smiling at me. "When'd you get here?" He asks me, going to kiss my check but I lean back, wincing.

"You smell like b-o-o-z-e, Duff." I scold him as he takes our son from me.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." He assures me easy-goingly as Monroe hugs him tightly, grinning and laughing.

His girlfriend...more so drug buddy, Linda, walks by and he glances at her.

"Babe, you coming?" She asks him, raising her brows.

He looks at Monroe, then me, then her again, before frowning slightly.

"Go, we'll be okay for a few minutes." I insist.

"Are you sure?" He questions.

"Duff, we just got here. You don't have to spend every second with us right away. You've got stuff to do."

He sighs, looking at me, then Monroe again.

"C'mon, baby, daddy's gotta get back to work." I tell Monroe and he reaches for me again.

I take him and Duff kisses his head, and mine.

"See ya before the show." He tells us, waving bye to Monroe. "See ya in just a few minutes, Roe." He assures him as Monroe waves back.

I sigh, Monroe looking around again.

"When's daddy coming back?" He asks me.

"In just a few minutes." I assure him.

He's soon looking over my shoulder, his eyes wide and bright, a wide smile on his face as he brings his finger to his lips and goes "shh."

Before I can turn to see who he's looking at, a sharp pinch on my ass has me snapping around, ready to throw a punch, only to be met with Izzy.

He and Monroe laugh together at my expense and I hit Izzy in the arm.

"Tailhole." I hiss out, watching my language and he chuckles some more.

He looks so much healthier than he used to.

He used to be scraggly and high looking all the time...now he's filled out a little more and his skins glowing.

Of course that also probably has to do with him finding a girl he's full blown in love with.

"Duff leave you out here?" He asks and I shrug.

"We just got here, he's with Linda."

Izzy wrinkles his nose the slightest.

"Duff's to Linda like Nikki was to Vanity." He mumbles.

"Don't I know it." I state, knowing a crackhead girlfriend/boyfriend when I see one now that I've had experience with Nikki and Vanity, and Tansy and Sparkie. "Where is she at?" I ask once we get to his dressing room and see a picture of the Aneka girl he'd been telling me about in bits and pieces the past couple months.

"Visiting her family." He tells me as there's a small knock at the door.

"Yeah?!" Izzy calls and the door opens.

"There he is!" Tansy says excitedly, Monroe laughing and showing a mouthful of teeth, getting down from me and running to her.

"Tans!" He replies to her, just as happy to see her.

"Oh, my goodness, you have gotten so tall since I last saw you." She tells him and he puts his bicep up and she grins, squeezing him to her. "You wanna go see uncle Axl?"

"Yes!"

"Is that okay? Just for a little bit." Tansy asks me and I nod.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and she picks him up.

"Alright, c'mon." She giggles and he waves at me.

"See you in just a little bit." I tell him, waving.

When she shuts the door, I fall back on the couch and groan, making Izzy raise his brows. "When we first got here, all I could hear was, 'daddy, daddy, daddy!'" I refer to Monroe and Izzy takes the cheap shot.

"Sounds like you on a good night." He says before I can finish and I glare at him, making him laugh.

"Sorry." He shrugs.

"Anyway...we finally get here and all he sees is his dad throw a fit because he didn't have the perfectly formulated ratio of Vodka and cranberry juice." I state and he lets out a soft breath. "And then Nikki's drinking again, and I know he's drinking again because he calls me in the middle of the night, drunk, to complain about his wife--which I told him not to marry her because he barely had time to really get to know her but nope. Nobody ever listens to Viv. And Tansy said that tweedle-Duff and tweedle-Slash wake up and start their morning with alcohol, which is comforting...I've been talking to Steven's mom a lot and she said he's been going down hill again after he tried to sober up some…"

"Yeah, I heard." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Axl's keeping Tansy from seeing anybody, he won't even let her call to check up on Steven right now. He thinks it'll trigger her to go off the deep end and get back on smack." I add. "Everything is just a shitshow at this point."

"Yeah…" he mumbles, before a long pause sits between us, and he finally clears his throat and sighs. "Um, I need to tell you something that I haven't told any of the guys yet, and I don't know how you'll feel but just know I've thought about it a lot and think I should do it."

"Izzy, I don't care if you're gay." I tell him and he sighs, giving a little smile…

"This is pretty serious." He says and I furrow my brows a little. "I want outta the band, Viv."

I feel a punch in my stomach.

First Steven, now Izzy...this is not how this was supposed to go…

"W-What?"

"Izzy, c'mon!" Their manager calls. "You're on soon!"

"We'll talk about it later, alright?" He says and I'm at a loss for words.

"Izzy,"

"It'll be alright, we'll talk about it." He assures me before stepping out.

Later that night, after Axl finally got on stage and the show was barely completed, Izzy and I split a room, Monroe and I taking a bed while Izzy takes the other.

Once Monroe is tucked into bed after passing out on the way to the hotel, I sit and wait for Izzy to get out of the shower and end up dozing next to Monroe.

I slowly blink awake when I feel fingertips tapping at my forehead, and Izzy's crouched down by the bed beside me...a little smile on his lips.

"Hey," he chuckles.

"Hey." I say back, blinking once more…

"It's not about the music anymore, Viv. The egos and drugs and booze and pussy--it's all coming first. I'm tired of having a show at 8:00pm and not getting onstage 'til 11:45pm, and only staying on stage until 12:30am before Axl gets breathed on the wrong way and storms off." He says softly not to wake Monroe up. "And it didn't help when my royalties were in talks of getting cut...and then when Ax is constantly coming up with lawsuits or contracts or NDA's, it's bullshit. It started out as five of us against them. Now Steven's gone, Axl's God and Slash, Matt and Duff are killing themselves. I just want out."

"You're breaking my heart, Izzy, you know that?" I sniffle tiredly, trying not to cry.

"I promise I'll be okay. This isn't gonna spring me into a relapse or anything." He assures me.

"I'm sorry for all of this happening." I admit and he shakes his head.

"Nah...it doesn't have anything to do with you. Me and the guys just have our own things going and it's just time for me to go my own way."

I just sniffle again, wiping a stray tear, and nod.

"And we'll still stay in touch and stuff." He adds. "You'll still see me around."

"Promise?" I ask.

"How else are we gonna keep tabs on each other to see if we gotta go through with our plan at forty-something." He shrugs.

"Oh, please, you'll still be with Aneka and won't even be bothered with me." I tell him and he shakes his head a little.

"Viv, I harassed you for nearly three years to marry me--even thought I didn't even fucking like the idea of marriage. If I went through that much trouble, I'm not gonna up and leave and only talk to you every blue moon."

I smile a little, rubbing my lips together before saying, "does this mean you're finally acknowledging that we are, indeed, friends?"

He rolls his eyes and stands back up.

"I didn't say that." He tells me and I chuckle. "G'night, Viv."

"Goodnight."

#gateway drug #gateway drug au #izzy x viv

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Four)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood, graphic violence, death

Context: Elijah and (Y/n) hunt a couple of vampires down.

A/N: So I have quite a lot I want to write at the moment, meaning that I nearly forgot about this, so I apologise if it feels a little rushed. Again, the boys don't play a major role in this part, but they will later on in the story, I promise!

Masterlist

"Any chance we can try and keep this clean tonight? Clearing up is always a pain in this town." I whisper to the Hunter crouched beside me, our eyes fixed intently on the three figures further into the alley, their attention on something else entirely.

"I can't promise anything." Elijah chuckles lowly, edging forwards slightly as he draws his pistol, screwing on a silencer as he goes, signalling for me to do the same, waiting as I rush to obey him. Expertly, I cock the pistol and ready it for use, checking the clip silently in the darkness, taking off the safety as we move further into the alley, the two of us moving with each other as if we've been doing it for years. In unison, we lift our firearms to eye level.

"On three." Elijah commands, voice calm and steady, "One...two...three."

As one, we compress the triggers, the bullets tearing through the air as they hurtle towards our targets, easily finding their marks. Screeches of pain and outrage echo loudly in the alley as blood spurts from the wounds, though we don't pay any attention to them, cocking our guns again, firing at will, our rounds quickly depleting as every bullet finds its mark. Well aware that wooden bullets will not instantly kill them, we draw our stakes and step out of the shadows, advancing on the three vampires recovering on the floor. Upon seeing us, they snap back upright, teeth bared in anger and pain, eyes flashing ominously as they mimic our moves, stepping in time with us, ready to pounce at us. Internal conversation seems to happen, as they then suddenly lunge forwards, two of them colliding with me as the other attacks Elijah, knocking me to the floor with a grunt of surprise.

Instinctually, I kick out, catching one of them somewhere fleshy as I claw and stab at the other, the stake sinking into muscle and tendons why satisfying squelches, screams and cries of agony accompanying my every move, though they are short lived as the two vampires manage to pin me down, keeping me spread eagled and prone. Instantly, they both lean down to bite into me, one at my neck, the other at my shoulder, gasps of agony escaping me as their fangs sink into me, though a short bitter laugh accompanies it as they suddenly pull back, hissing and spitting in disgust and surprise, blood (both mine and their own) spilling from their open mouths. In that split second, I lunge upwards and plunge the stake into the heart of the closest, driving it deeply into the chest cavity, teeth gritting together as gore erupts out onto my clothes, staining my face.

Shrieking, the vampire falls to the floor, dying and writhing as I go to stand, only to be pulled back by the other, panic fluttering inside me as their hands clamp around my throat, nails digging into my skin, drawing blood as they start to squeeze, triumphant cackle loud and unpleasant in my ears. Struggling for breath, I claw at the vice-like grip, kicking out and writhing, the edges of my vision slowly going fuzzy as the oxygen stops reaching my brain.

Feeling my energy start to dwindle, I notice my limbs going limp, my arms heavy and leaden as my eyes roll back into my head, unconsciousness threatening to take over, prompting the vampire to suddenly drop me to the floor, my knees colliding painfully with the concrete. Instantly, it's hands are back around my throat this time with the intention of tearing out my windpipe, but I've recovered quickly enough, my hands reaching into my pocket, finding what I'm looking for. Twisting, I smash it against their chest, a cloud of mist enveloping the vampire as screams and shouts of agony erupt from them, the holy water grenade having the desired effect.

With one last burst of energy, I pull the stake from the fallen body of the first vampire and thrust it into the heart of the second, crying out in exertion as they collapse onto me, impaling themselves on it. Throwing it sideways, I look over at Elijah, who is crouched by the remains of the other vampire, blue eyes meeting mine across the gap, taking in my bloodied appearance critically.

"Lets not get too dirty, eh?" He remarks, standing and coming over after removing his stake from the vampire, helping me to my feet with a small flourish, inspecting my injuries in concern.

"Shut up." I growl, brushing myself off as I look him over, annoyed to find him nearly spotless somehow.

"Sorry. You gonna be ok? You've been bitten and scratched pretty badly." He muses, taking off his coat and offering it to me in place of my now-filthy one. Smiling tiredly, I accept the offer and slipbthe coat on, enjoying the sense of comfort it brings.

"I'll be ok, thanks. I'll go back home and fix myself up. You've got a hotel room, right?" I ask him, bending down to the bodies at my feet once more, taking the knife from my pocket as I do so.

"I do, but I can stay at yours tonight, if that helps?" Elijah replies, going to his own quarry and doing the same as I am: pulling back their lip and cutting out their left fang, soemthing all SRS Hunters are required to do, in order to prove a kill.

"No, don't worry about it. I'll survive the walk home." I decline, taking the two bloodied fangs and sticking them in my pocket, ready to go in the case back at my home, my fingers slick with gore as I slip the blade back into its sheath, my bites now beginning to hurt as I take the feet of both corpses and drag them behind a steel bin. Taking out the hip flask we all have to carry, I douse the bodies in lighter fluid, waiting for Elijah to move his own body over before setting them on fire with my lighter, aware that the remains will no longer be recognisable in the morning, after having been burnt and then obscured by the morning rain that will no doubt put out the flames before they can spread. Elijah watches all this with a critical eye.

I pull another bin across them before I turn to leave, grabbing my gun on the way, intending to take the back roads put of Santa Carla to avoid being seen and reported, aware that my appearance is not the most normal. Elijah follows me, keeping up a quiet conversation as I lead him through the labyrinth of roads and alleys, the two of us falling back into our natural habits with ease, as if we were both still Cadets back in Hunting School, joking and messing around with each other. It takes fifteen minutes of this for us to find his hotel, where he says goodbye and leaves me, still holding his holdall even after the excitement of the evening.

Blood stained and tired, I turn my back on the hotel and walk home, hoping to get washed before I get to sleep, hating the reek that has taken over my body, feeling stiff and dirty. Before long, the small shed comes into view, everything just as I left it this morning.

Grabbing the bucket of water outside the door, I head inside and lock myself in as best I can, going further into the room in the darkness, able to navigate it pretty well through instinct. Placing the bucket down, I reach into my pocket and flick on my lighter, locating a candle and lighting it, soon able to see a little better. I go around the room and light more of the candles placed around there, soon having a pleasant ring of light to do stuff in, only to then realise I'm not alone, as I first thought.

"What the hell happened to you?" Is the first thing I hear before I realise who it is, rolling my eyes when I recognise Paul's voice.

"Went on a hunt. Got messy and bitten. It happens." I prompt him dismissively, standing back a bit as I debate how to tell them to leave the room, in desperate need of some privacy so I can change in peace.

"You got bitten?!" David speaks up, stepping further into the candlelight with a worried look on his face, the others following suit.

"Yeah, twice. It's not the first time, David, don't worry. I'll just clean it and I'll be fine. Speaking of which, could you guys leave the room whilst I change? Please?"

Wordlessly, they walk out of the room and into the cold outside, waiting whilst i make an effort to clean myself up with the bucket of water, scrubbing the blood off of myself with some luck, my clothes needing a much more through clean, though that is to be expected. Pulling on some new ones, I go outside with my clothes and the bucket, leaving them there as I invite the boys back inside. Finding my first aid kit, I go to start dressing my wounds, only to find myself struggling in the dim light.

Dwayne immediately steps forwards to help me, deft fingers replacing mine as he works at cleaning and closing up the bite mark, his look of jealousy hidden to me as he sees the intimate placing of the wound. As his hands brush against my skin, I try to ignore the rising blush in my cheeks, turning instead to watch the others, only for my cheeks to darken when I see David, Marko and Paul staring at me with intensity. It takes Dwayne around five minutes to finish up, by which time the air is significantly tenser and more charged, as if something happened that no one was supposed to see.

He steps away from me, turning away as he licks his fingers clean, hissing suddenly at the tatse.

"Do you inject yourself with holy water? Why the hell does this taste so...painful?" He bursts out, dark eyes finding mine.

"All SRS Hunters are required to drink it, so that supernatural beings can't drink or use our blood for anything. It's quite a good defence tactic at times." I inform him, yawning suddenly as the energy leaves my body.

"Long day, huh?" Marko chips in from somewhere behind the others, the curly haired vampire chuckling at the grumble he receives in response.

"We should probably leave you, then. We just wanted to make sure you were alright seeing as we never really saw you tonight." David muses, reaching out to brush my hair from my face as he smiles down at me, blue eyes unnaturally soft.

"I'm sorry. It's gonna be like that for a few more days or so, as long as the Senior Officer is here, I can't see you guys so often. I don't want you getting caught." I warn him, standing from my seat as I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, my cheek tingling from where he touched me.

"A shame, but thank you, anyway. We'll see you around." David says, smiling once more before turning and leaving, Dwayne waving at me as he follows. Marko and Paul stepping forwards to sweep me into a hug before leaving themselves, crushing me against their chests almost protectively.

"See ya, (Y/n)." Paul calls as they walk out, leaving me alone again.

Part Five

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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mother-snake · 4 years

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I FOUND FREE TIME!! Sorry if this one is a bit rushed Jessie!!

Italics are memories

-----

The first thing a yellow side notices is that his head feels like its being split open. The second thing is that he's laying on a very soft couch. And the third? The third is that he doesn't remember anything.

He makes a slight noise of discontent before opening his eyes, only to have five people swarm him. Talking to him very fast and keep trying to touch him. He tries to curl up only to be unable to move.

One by one the colourful people back away only a dark blue person stayed by him. His lips keep moving but it all sounds like its underwater. Only to clear.

"-us, Janus! Can you hear us?"

His voice is raspy but he manages to respond, "Who's Janus?"

The people seemed to not like that answer, he didn't know why but making someone upset makes him feel like he's in danger, the indigo side didn't react that much.

"You are Janus, that is your name. Do you remember us?"

Janus shook his head.

"Well, I am Logan, Thomas's logic. The red side is Roman, one half of creativity. Green is Remus, the second half of creativity. The purple one is Virgil, he represents anxiety. And the light blue side is Patton. Thomas's morality.

Janus seemed to be taking the information in. Thinking about that one name he said... What was it? Timothy? Tobias? Travis?

"Do you remember Thomas?"

Janus had to stop and think. Thomas... Thomas was their centre. I'm one of his sides. Janus nodded

Logan handed Janus a glass of water, helping him take careful sips. The water felt like heaven, it was cool and soothing. But the heaven was gone soon enough.

"Do you remember your function?"

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember. "Deception?.....Or was it self preservation? I- I can't remember."

Logan had a small smile on his lips. "You are correct, your title is Deceit and your function is Self Preservation."

"Deceit... Isn't lying bad? Am I bad? Why does my head hurt?" Janus didn't notice the looks of pain on the others faces because they put those thoughts there.

Logan's smile disappeared. "No, you are not a bad side. You work for the good of Thomas. Why would you think that?"

"Because they told me so."

"Who?"

"..... I don't remember... They wore a lot of black."

"Do you mean the Dark Sides?"

A sharp gasp came from the yellow side. Blood, there is so much blood. Its my blood. Screaming. No, not screaming. Yelling. I'm running, the hallway is dark, the rug keeps triping me, my door lock is broken, I'm hiding... I can feel my breath.... The door to my room is open. Orange. I scream.

Janus is still screaming, he's trying to run but something is holding him down, he can feel someones breath. "Let me go! Please I'll do what you want!" he feels a slight sting in his arm before his eyes get blurry. The voices in the background get farther away as he feels himself involuntarily relax and fall back asleep.

Logan pulls the needle away as Roman, Remus and Virgil all let go of the sleeping side. Worry is blinding them as all of them walk into the kitchen to talk.

"The NopeRope doesn't remember anything. What do we do here?" Roman kept messing with his sash.

"His memory seems to come back with certain prompts or questions. However it seems to have a bad reaction-"

"A bad reaction? A BAD REACTION?? Logan, he was screaming for help while repeating the word no! That is more then JUST a bad reaction!!

Logan sighed, "Virgil, I know that you're worried about him but he does need to get his memory back."

"Does he?"

Everyone was now staring at Patton.

"I mean well, if he doesn't remember what the others put him through and what we put him through maybe he would be happier? He just looks to peaceful while he's asleep that I've never seen him have before."

"He will most likely remember anyway when he sees the scars, we can not hide this from him forever."

The kitchen was now an awkward silence. Until Remus broke it.

"How long till he wakes up, nerd?"

"Should be around 3 hou-"

"He'll be awake in five"

"What? Why five?"

"He's smaller then normal, plus he's not a full grown side yet, so-"

"What?" Patton didin't seem happy knowing that info.

Remus shugged, "he popped up in the gray when Thomas was ten, followed virgil around like a lost puppy next to a railroad. He just grew fangs a few months ago! I don't think they have venom though, bit of a shame. Everything is better with venom.-"

"Remus, getting off track here. Janus is the youngest?"

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Yep" poping the P, "he was a cute little baby snake! Loved strawberries! The other three didn't like him very much though."

Patton was pressing his palms to his eye sockets. "they burned, beat and tried to kill a child?"

Remus nodded and looked to the ground.

The sides split up to go a few things before Janus woke up again.

When Janus opened his eyes all he could smell was strawberries. A song played in the background. He felt stronger and managed to sit up. He looked on the TV to see a frog singing the loveliest lies of them all.

"Vee! Vee!" Boucing up and down. "Can we watch Over The Garden Wall?" Virgil looked over at the shorter side. "You just watched it yesterday, short stack" even though the yellow side was 15 he still bounced and gave Virgil the puppy dog eyes. Virgil sighed, "Fine. Bring up the episode." trying and failing to sound annoyed. The smaller side smiled even wider.

"Vee?" Janus mumbled under his breathe the name. The side in the memory looked similar to...What was his name? VIRGIL! That was it! Was Vee Virgil? The snake zoned out in his thoughts and the song from the frog. Only to be brought out of it when a light blue side stood in front if him.

"Patton? That was your name right?"

"Yep! You got it in one mr scales!" Patton seemed nice, wait. Scales?

Get out of here you slimy boi! reptilian rapscallion! Snake! Evil! Villian! You are no good for Thomas! Just leave! Leave! LEAVE! LEAVE!

Janus lifted his hand and touched the left side of his face. Smooth scales greeted his hand and old burnt skin next to his eye. Tears started to leak for a reason he couldn't pin point. Continuously touching the scales, stoking over the sharp bottom of scales. Sooner then he thought someone was sitting next to him.

Patton sat next to him and was counting numbers.

1 2 3 4. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Janus didn't know what the numbers where but he followed along anyway.

Soon he could smell the strawberries again. He likes strawberries right? Janus thinks he likes strawberries. When he looks up, Patton gives him a hug. Wincing when his arms touch something on his back.

More and more time passes. With each memory things get clearer. Janus still doesn't know why he can't remember anything. Until another memory happens.

"WILL YOU PLEASE JUST SHUT UP?" " No! Roman I want to apologize! I'm sorry I compared you to your brother! I'm sorry I manipulated you at the courtroom! I'm sorry I sent Remus to deal with my problems! You don't have to forgive me but ay least listen to me!" Roman growls "FUCK OFF!!" And suddenly, he is back at the dark household.

He needs to get out before the others find him. Who knows what they would do to h- "Ohhh Deceit! So lovely for you to stop by~" Too late.

He runs to his room, tripping on the carpet. The lock is broken. He hides in the closet. Wrath finds him. He's dragged to the dark side commons and chained to a wall for days to become the personal punching bad. Apathy set him on fire, Wrath beat him up and Depression.... Depression did something to his head. He was thrown into the gray after depression had his fun. Then he blacked out

Janus doesn't want to leave his room. He's being punished for wanting to apologize. That seems like bullshit to him.

Weeks pass. People keep knocking on his door, they say that they're worried. What a bunch of liars.

After a month, the sides make Thomas take them inside if the bedroom. After a bit of convincing, Janus tells them everything.

And much to his surprise. They are livid.

------

Beep boop. Thingy done! I hope this thing made sense! Brain is broken atm. This one was inspired by Once Upon a December from Anastasia.

This turned out a lot more fluffy then I originally thought.... Hope ya like it! I need to go write a poem now ❤💛❤

protcetive sides alert! yeah! may i say that this is some quality content? im running out of things to say wihout repeating myself but they are all just so amazing and normaly leave me with energy to write stuff. (sorry im responding to these now, i was asleep when i got them last night and consumed by school fr the past few hours...)

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key201303 · 3 years

Note

Omg it's fine don't worry!!🥺❤ And I'm also so sorry that it took me so long to respond. I really haven't been doing well and I'm just lacking all strength and energy.😭 Thank you so so much for all of your sweet and caring words, I really appreciate them!!🥺❤ I'm trying to take care of myself and take breaks whenever it gets too much but it's hard not to get stressed out thinking about all the things I should be doing😭 I'm trying to relax though.🥺 And to answer your last paragraph; YES I AM A DEOBI🥺 I'm actually a Deobi, Atiny and Stay apart from being into WayV/NCT (and also a Moa), so I should have all the more reason to watch Kingdom, but to be honest, that's simply also one of those things I don't have the strength for at the moment.😔 Maybe I can catch up at some point...😭 But I hope you're having fun watching it with your mom!! I saw a lot of people being upset over how The Boyz seem to be getting mistreated there, so I'm not even sure whether I WANT to watch it because thinking about that already makes me feel so bad for them.😔 But on a more positive note, who's your bias(es)/bias wrecker(s) in The Boyz?🥺❤❤❤❤

OMG THAT COOKING VIDEO AJFJSKKDD I REALLY GOTTA WATCH WAYVISION 2 WHEN I FIND THE STRENGTH TO DO SO BECAUSE THAT LOOKS SO CHAOTIC I CAN ONLY SHAKE MY HEAD OMG😂😅 Poor Kun, always has to do damage control there :')

AND I KNOW RIGHT THE AUDACITY OF XIAOJUN TO LOOK LIKE THAT?!?!?! EXCUSE ME??? SIR???😭😭😭 That reminds me of his relay cam like what on earth, who allowed him to wake up at 4am looking like a 5 Michelin star meal??????😭😭😭 There was this one scene in which he was waiting for his oreo cake in the microwave and he leaned against the wall and looked back over his shoulders and like,,, god,,, the scene,,, I just,,, I really cannot handle it at all.🥵😭😭https://www.instagram.com/reel/CNVf17DHyF7/?igshid=l41f0mcv6v14 Spongebob is LITERALLY me😂😂😂

Also, I'm glad to hear the Let me love u MV is also bringing you joy!! I still love watching it and it always cheers me up a bit😭❤❤❤❤ How have you been doing btw?? I'm also always here if you want to talk and it always brings me so much joy to read your responses and messages🥺❤❤❤

It's okay if you don't answer right away!! I understand you need your time and taking breaks from social media and stuff like that is something all of us should do from time to time❤️ Just come whenever you feel with enough strength and remember to rest well and don't skip meals❤️

OMG WE SHARE ALL THE FANDOMS🤩🤩 I've been a deobi for a year now and it's definitely one of the best decisions I've made in my life LMAO And yeah, Mnet be mistreating them for no reason but what's new? 🙂 I recommend you to only watch the performances once it's all over because honestly it is really frustrating to see them being all down because judges say deobis are disappointed about them🙄 like EXCUSE ME WHERE DID YOU GET THAT FROM? HOW CAN THEY TELL THEM WE ARE DISAPPOINTED?????? 😤😤😤 Ugh it just pisses me off a lot but you know, it's Mnet LMAO

The bias question is hard omg🤣🤣 does ot12 count as a bias? LMAO but if I had to choose I'll go with Eric, Sunwoo and Juyeon as biases (the maknaes UGH😭) and Changmin, Haknyeon and Younghoon as bias wreckers (but if you accept ot12 as biases then there you go hehe🙂)

Hbu?? Who are your biases/bias wreckers? And in the rest of groups? I'm curious to see how many of them we share LMAO👀👀👀👀

Istg they would have burnt up the dorms a year ago if Kun wasn't there LMAO I'm rather Xiaojun or Lucas in that kind of situation tho LMAO would stan there watching the chaos saying I can do nothing or be the chaotic kid shouting BLACK SAUSAGE 😂😂😂 I can't with these boys omg🤣

IKR😭 Xiaojun in that relay cam is my new religion 🙂 he looks so damn good and for WHAT? Boy it's 4am, I don't even look that fine at 7pm and you look all fancy at 4am?? You must be kidding me 🙂 God definitely has preferences and he definitely over poured the beauty scent while making him and left nothing for the rest of human beings🙂🙂

WHY IS THAT SPONGEBOB REPRESENTING ALL XIAOJUN STAN'S? OMG I'M DEAD 😂😂😂😂😂😂

It really is🤩 that MV is definitely made for cheering up🤗 I've been doing good(?) I mean I could be doing better but it's okay😂😂 I got a new kid for tutoring which is pretty cool *cough cough more money for spamming my mom with kpop merch cough cough* but yeah I'm doing good 😂😂 Also really excited for all the little ideas I have tmfor the future of this blog that I can't wait to work on and show them to you 🤩🤩

Thank you so much for being there for me😭❤️ you can't imagine how happy I always get whenever I see you have sent an ask🤧🤧 Actually you're the only one sending long ass asks and I absolutely love them so whenever a notification pops up saying you've sent an ask I get really happy🤩🤩

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coldtomyflash · 5 years

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Weird question, and it's perfectly okay if "I don't know" is your answer: How did you manage to do grad school AND finish writing so many good fics? I'm writing the lit review for my dissertation right now, and I want to finish several WIPs I have (if nothing else, just to prove to myself that I can), but it just feels like I can barely do either, much less both. Any advice at all?

Ah, no worries! It’s not that odd a question. Actually, someone’s asked me before ^^; My reply to them at the time was here. No need to read it, but it’s some context?

My reply now that my head is in a healthier place is... long and winding and not actually full of that much advice but eh, I rambled as I do. If you just want the advice, scroll all the way down and it’s there.

For starters, I’m not a normal comparison point. This isn’t to pat myself on the back, but for a variety of reasons, writing is something that comes really naturally to me. I’ll detail those reasons, but before I get into that, the point I’m illustrating here is that... sometimes I think people compare themselves to how much I wrote and what else I accomplished in that time and think “hey cool - that is a function human! Why can’t I do that?” And the answer is short answer is that my brain is programmed for pretty much one thing, and that thing is writing writing, and holy crap I was the opposite of a functional human when writing that much and that quickly.

The long answer is -

I’ve been making up stories literally as long as I can remember. I spent my childhood consuming stories. I taught myself to read and was during school I was consistently reading about 8 grade levels above my reading level, and loved learning about narrative structure. I annoyed the shit out of my older brother by reading the same book series as he read, but guessing plot points that were going to happen either in that book or else 2-3 books out. he didn’t get how I would just know and I’d be like “it’s obvious - that’s where the story has to go!” Because I was imagining it in my head - what i would do with it, where it would go, where it had to go. Closing the page mid0chapter and imagining the next-scene, and then picking back up to see how right or wrong I was.

And I had a best friend for most of my childhood through to early adulthood with whom I made stories. Every weekend, creating narratives together, not writing them down but basically roleplaying them by talking them out (voices and all, it was a heck of a lot of fun, as much as it made me pretty much the nerdiest teen in existence). We tried to write a novel when we were 12, got about 7 chapters in. We had a lot of starts and stops on other stories too.

Which isn’t said to stroke my own ego, it’s said to highlight that I have a metric fuckton of explicit and implicit practice at storytelling. It was and sort of is my “whole life”. I also had teachers that helped me develop storytelling skills, and was really freaking lucky to go to a school with an AP program for English that seriously stretched my ability to write fast. We had to write an essay every single class, during class, and have it finished by the end of class (or in less time if we had lecture stuff to go over too) in my last year of high school. The essays could be creative response (i.e., short stories). I wrote a short story almost every week in the space of an hour when I was 17. By the time I got to the end of year final and actually got to use a computer and type that shit instead of hand-cramping halfway through, I somehow managed to write the two-essay final in the allotted 3 hours and, i shit you not, had a wordcount of 6000 words.

That’s still my record. It was probably a dumpster fire but I got 100% probably for sheer volume.

Anyway that was over a decade ago, but the whole reason this life story is pertinent is because -

I have practice. The only way to improve at anything, to get faster at it, for it to ease, is to practice. Practice at storytelling, practice at having to set a scene using just words sitting in my BFF’s room and trying to describe the image I had in my head for how I wanted her to see the scene as it was playing out. Practice at writing fast and getting feedback on how to write. Practice implicitly at trying to imagine what routes stories can take. Practice taking stories apart and piecing them back together, in my head, all the time.

So that’s part of it.

The other part, and this is what I said in my previous post, was depression. I was seriously fucking burnt out and depressed when I started writing coldflash fic, and grad school took a huge toll on my mental health. It’s easier to write when you’re doing it to procrastinate working on your dissertation, and easier to keep writing when you get positive feedback and it feeds those lovely dopamine gremlins in your brain who aren’t getting any positive validation from grad school because holy damn that shit is hard.

I had no balance in my life for a long time. It wasn’t good. I went to counselling. I got more balance. Fic slowed down. Still finished, but not 120k words in 3 months (that was the pace when I started fic writing...jfc I don’t know how I managed.) Life got harder. Fic was now harder to write. I got more counselling. Fic was easier to write. I moved around the world. Fic got harder to write. I started anti-depressants. Narratives now seem to be flowing again.

Regardless of the state of my mental health though, I’ve never written as much as quickly as I did during the middle of grad school. And I think that’s because I was very narratively pent up when I started writing fic. I had been so busy and pushing myself so damn hard in grad school that I didn’t make almost any time for stories, for fic, for imagining my own stories. I was suppressing that side of myself in the service of Focus. So when I burnt out, my narrative side rebounded and said “fuck that noise, I still exist, and we’re making space for me”. It took over. I came literally a hair’s breadth from quitting my PhD post candidacy. Idk what type of program you’re in, but business schools in North America? It’s a 5 year PhD typically, and I was at the end of year 3 and eyeing the door.

Anyway - I say all that because -

I am not a good example and you should not do what I did. Finishing that many long WIPs that quickly wasn’t healthy, and was only possible because I didn’t do much else at the time, and had a lifetime of practice and a narrative rebound to make it even possible.

But -

My actual advice?

1) Practice. Practice. Practice.

Not all at once, but everything counts. Daydreaming counts. Watching shows and thinking of how they could be improved counts. Talking out story ideas with friends counts. Just make it fun. Practice is something we think of as arduous and annoying. Learning new words is practice. Meeting new people and considering their traits is practice. Everything can be practice for writing. All the research you do can be practice for writing. (Random note: a childhood coping mechanism for anxiety that I had was to narrate what I was doing to myself in my head in the 3rd person. Like telling a story of myself walking to gym class in my own head. That was also practice.)

2) Have fun with it!

Don’t making writing an obligation. Then it’s another thing on the list of things you avoid. Finishing stories often feels like an obligation. I’m going through this right now with Needs Must. It can be hard to complete a WIP because you start to have internal anxieties about disappointing readers, not living up to expectations, exhaustion from that narrative, distraction / temporary loss of interest (which is normal! and not actually a bad thing!). All of that then makes you feel guilty, which makes it impossible to get into a creative space to write. You can’t work on the thing you’re avoiding.

3) It’s okay to give your WIPs breathing space.

When you hit a wall, you may need to set it aside and read it again in a month with fresh eyes. You may need to treat your story like someone else’s story. That’s, again, literally where I’m at right now with Needs Must. I just reread a bunch of it and hadn’t really forgotten the details but once they’re on the page they’re out of my head, and so taking some time before going back to reread it made it easier for me to think of like I think of every other story: “what would I do next with this? Oh that’s a twist, that needs to come back later. There’s a theme here, we’ve seen that three times. What’s the best ending I, as a reader now, can imagine for this?”

If avoidance, guilt, and/or writer’s block aren’t your issue, and it’s literally just down to time management -

4) Your graduate degree is more important than your WIPs.

Your WIPs aren’t going anywhere, they don’t have a deadline, and your readers will wait for you, and new ones will find you. Time management is an essential, awful, part of being an academic.

I get more done, both at work and creatively on fic, when I’m just a bit too busy, but that’s me. Figure out what is optimal for you, and do it. When do you get the most writing done? When you’re relieved? When you’re anxious? Late at night? First thing in the morning? When does it flow? When won’t it ruin your graduate career?

(Seriously I was writing fic at work last week and was kicking myself. I don’t have time for that shit! Set boundaries on your time!)

But full serious here, graduate school is exhausting, and almost inherently de-motivating, and even the best damn students eye the door a lot of the time, even if they do finish. It’s stressful and you feel constantly powerless. It’s a lot to need to cope with. I found writing to be a way to cope. That lit review you’re working on? Yeah, it’s zapping your time and energy. That’s normal (unfortunately). And it’s good to give yourself breaks from that to write. Don’t feel guilty for taking time here and there for yourself - to write, or to not write. To relax, unplug, unwind. To close your eyes and daydream (if you’re me) or have a bubble bath (if you’re my sister), or do whatever helps you honestly, genuinely destress. The best thing you can do for both writing and for graduate school is to take breaks and take time for yourself. There is actual science on the importance of breaks, and academics are fucking notorious for putting too much pressure on themselves to actually relax.

5) If you’re burnt out and/or depressed - seek help!

Most universities have resources for mental health! Talk to a doctor! Don’t put too much stress and pressure on yourself! Almost half of grad students are mentally ill at some point!

6) Talk out your stories with friends!

I know I already said this under “practice” but having a fandom friend to bounce ideas with and cheer you on is amazing and essentially. I was in constant contact with Bealeciphers when I started writing, and now I have a different friend who’s helped me the past couple years with writing and developing my stories. Mostly they cheer me on, and when I’m stuck, I tell them where the story is going and what I need help with. But honestly, writing doesn’t need to happen in a vacuum and doesn’t need to be you hunched over a laptop in the dark all alone and staring blankly at a screen (I’m definitely not projecting here, no siree). It’s amazing how motivating it is and how much it can help you stay on track to check in regularly with other writing friends!

7) Pick your battles.

You say you have a... couple(?) of WIPs? How many are you juggling? Is it too many? Do you need to set one (or two??) aside? When my steam was slowly and AATJS and Tumbling Together started to feel like a chore, I set TT aside and took a month break from AATJS then dived right back into AATJS (with the help of the friend mentioned above, cheering me on) because I knew it would be the harder one to finish, and the one that I feared I’d never finish if I put it aside too long. I tackled the biggest hurdle first. If that’s the type of thing for you, I recommend it. Pick the story that’s either the most or least likely to get finished, and focus your energy there.

Another battle-picking thing here? It’s okay to outsource. I’m terrible for not using a proofreader beta. It’s a weird control thing, despite the fact that I love people pointing out typos in my works so I can freaking fix them. The point here is: don’t be like me. If you suck at finding your own typos, use a beta or proofreader. My writer friend who helps me helps when I get stuck. I help them when they need feedback on specific scenes and tones, and I’ve recently discovered they hate editing (I love editing) so this entertains me to no end. Just - you don’t have to do it all yourself. If you feel like you do, see points 5 and 6 again.

Aaaannnddd that’s that. Whew. I just spent... wow, too long on this. I spent as much time on this as I did on my own grad student’s lit review I was providing feedback on today ^^; #whoops

#redhead vs. writing #long post #long post for ts #phyn rambles #writing advice #depression tw #ask to tag #Anonymous

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