#reminds me to also make more progress on the stephen fic... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stxphxn-strange · 5 years ago

Text

you don’t have to hurry, you don’t have to try

a/n: i didn’t plan on writing this but this week has been v introspective and a little confusing? so it’s ~self indulgent fic time~. title from “walking on air” by king crimson, regular college au tony angst and a rly soft ironstrange moment

Stephen could tell, even without seeing his boyfriend’s expression, that Anthony was lost in thought. He’d been wandering in his mind for most of the day, and though they helped Stephen knew his gentle encouragements and praises didn’t magically fix everything. He was self aware enough to know he wasn’t that powerful, and he knew he couldn’t banish everything that bothered Anthony. But sometimes Stephen wished it was possible, with just a wave of a hand, to give Anthony the peace of mind that had been stolen from him time and time again. It was late enough to be asleep, but even without seeing his face Stephen knew Anthony was fighting the desire to close his eyes and let the day end. He was curled up in Stephen’s arms, head resting on his boyfriend’s chest as he wandered hopelessly through the maze of his thoughts.

Anthony was exhausted. He spent the day complaining, humorously of course because heaven forbid he gave anyone a reason to find fault with him, that he was tired. Stephen saw right through the act and knew he was legitimately tired, and not just physically. He also knew that Anthony didn’t feel fulfilled unless he accomplished something tangible, and on days when he wanted to do nothing, to just exist outside of the pressure he put on himself, he retreated to relentless self-deprecation for not doing more. He was still used to being judged, ridiculed, and used for what he did or didn’t do, depending on the circumstances, and he’d made a lot of progress unlearning those thought streams, but it wasn’t easy.

So Stephen didn’t fault Anthony for being upset and confused, his heart breaking when he saw how hesitant Anthony was to believe his reassurances. He still didn’t trust himself to let go of all of his façades, especially not the carefully practiced busybody energy he maintained when dealing with others. Sometimes, often without realizing, he really did act as if his entire life was nothing but deadlines. He thought that he didn’t matter, only his work did. Anthony didn’t know what to do with himself as a human, which fucking petrified him. He sometimes didn’t see himself as human, but he couldn’t say how he saw himself. Stephen frowned as he remembered Anthony once saying that he could only ever picture himself as a burden to everyone he knew, or just a mind and body to be toyed with and used.

Stephen was drawn away from the memory of that conversation and back to the present when Anthony looked up at him.

“Thought you were asleep,” he mumbled, shifting just enough to lay his head on Stephen’s shoulder.

“Nah, I’m genuinely not tired,” Stephen replied.

“I’m not either,” Anthony said stubbornly.

Stephen would’ve usually been a bit snarky or argued that during their earlier romp Anthony called him “exhausting”, but this was one of those moments where he didn’t want to banter.

Instead, Stephen took a gentler approach and scoffed at him. “You’ve never been a good liar, Ant.”

“Because I don’t try to lie to you the way I do to other people,” Anthony replied bluntly. “I don’t feel like I need to be protecting myself from judgement when I talk to you.”

“You don’t,” Stephen reminded him, softly kissing his head. “And you don’t have to stay up for me, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Anthony asked.

“No, in fact I don’t want you to,” Stephen said. “If you’re as tired as we both know you are, you don’t need anyone’s permission to rest and leave today where it is. And you don’t have to sacrifice sleep or your well-being for anyone you’re in any kind of relationship with, and you shouldn’t.”

Anthony looked at him skeptically, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was really fucking tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep soundly in Stephen’s arms, but he couldn’t overcome his anxiety and felt his heart skip as Stephen frowned.

“Hey, I’m not upset with you,” Stephen said, trying to disrupt Anthony’s anxious train of thought before it took off. “I’m just trying to decide how to say what I’m thinking.”

“I’m listening,” Anthony replied, instinctively reaching out to hug him.

“I know,” Stephen murmured, kissing him again. “But sometimes there’s a difference between you listening to me and you believing what I say.”

Anthony nodded. “Guilty.”

“I get it, though. I don’t blame you,” Stephen began. “And I’m not saying this to try and convince you of anything, if that makes sense. I just want you to understand that you’re one of the most important people, if not the most important person in my life.”

Anthony was silent, expectantly waiting for Stephen to continue as he shifted even closer to him.

“I love you, and I know I tell you that all the time but it means so much to be able to say it, and to be able to love you,” Stephen began. “I know you probably better than I know myself, both because we grew up together and because along the way you’ve always put your trust in me without hesitation. I know you don’t trust easily, and you have valid reasons for doing so, so to know that your trust in me has only increased is so important to me and I’m always going to cherish that. I’m always going to cherish you. Your kindness and selflessness are fucking insatiable and it makes my blood boil to know that people have tried to change and take advantage of you.”

Stephen let his words hang in the air, pressing a flurry of kisses to Anthony’s hair and face.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever really been close to, which you know so I don’t know why I’m telling you that,” Anthony replied. “I know I’m bad at emotions sometimes—”

“You really aren’t,” Stephen cut him off. “You’re very perceptive and empathetic, but much more towards others than to yourself. I didn’t mean to cut you off, I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been interrupting me our entire lives, since even before we could speak full sentences, and now you want to apologize?” Anthony teased. He laughed for the first time all day, his heart lighter than it had been in awhile.

Stephen’s heart sang.

“I love your laugh,” he murmured. “I love when you laugh like nobody’s listening, and when a song you love comes on and you start dancing. I love how you’re always talking about something and bringing people into your conversations. You’re magnetic, not even because of what you say but because of how you say it. Without a doubt you’re the most inviting person I’ve ever known, and I love you for that. I just really love the moments where it just hits me that I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend and that you love me too.”

“I think you’ve seen more of my real self than anyone else” Anthony replied. “Because you’ve always made me feel safe and comfortable enough to be emotional, even when I was discouraged from it. You’re one of the only constants, one of the only people who I know means every word they say to me.”

“I do, and I always will,” Stephen vowed. “I love you for everything you are, for much more than your mind and body even as amazing as they are. Everything at your core combines to make you the most creative, intellectual, and understanding douchebag I’ve ever met, but I wouldn’t have it another way. There’s no one else I’d rather call my lover and best friend.”

Anthony sighed shakily, beginning to cry into Stephen’s shoulder. He was overwhelmed, the stress of the day finally breaking from its orbit around him. His stress combined with the gratitude and love he felt for Stephen, leaving him emotional and vulnerable. Despite all of that, and despite how much Anthony hated to be vulnerable even in front of Stephen (he was still working on that), he knew he’d be okay. He knew he’d be able to be himself, no matter what mood he was in or how that looked, and find a home with his best friend.

Anthony let himself cry until he was almost asleep, his body still recovering from a brutal anxiety attack earlier. He could hear himself talking but was already drifting away, not thinking much before he talked. “I don’t think I’d be... I don’t think I’d be anything without you.”

“Give yourself more credit,” Stephen admonished, his voice sweet and loving and no louder than a whisper. “You’re incredible and unlike anyone I’ve ever known, but not because or in spite of anyone else.”

Anthony hummed, either agreeing with or questioning what Stephen said but it wasn’t clear which. He closed his eyes, looking content with the idea of sleeping for once.

Stephen didn’t say anything, still unwilling at this point to be snarky towards his boyfriend. He just petted Anthony’s hair, whispering as many sweet nothings and affirmations of love as he could.

Anthony still tried to stay up, not because he felt like needed to or because he was annoyed with himself, but because he wanted to hear everything Stephen had to say. Stephen knew this of course, smiling as Anthony fell asleep just after a soft, breathless “love you.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @h3mmy @ironstrange-chaos @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @kiwidino @chocopiggy @maya-custodios-dionach @thespacecryptid

#i meant to post this yesterday #my ironstrange college au #i am projecting more strongly than Stephen in the astral realm #i lowkey hate this but i did my best given how empty my head feels lmao #ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #Stephen is absolute goals here #implied past stony #implied anti stony #king crimson walking on air

33 notes · View notes

unbelievableholland · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Me: Part 3

(Moodboard/cover made by me. Pics from Pinterest.)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attacks

Words: 3,737

Summary: After the events of Endgame, and the death of the three people you cared most about, will you be able to move on?

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Our exams start tomorrow, so by next week I’ll try to be as consistent as possible with uploading fics because school would be over for me by then. As for the people who requested, they might take a while to make but don’t worry! I promise I’ll get them all done.

~Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist~

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you woke up, you found yourself attached to multiple wires. You felt cold, hard metal on your back and a helmet-like thing on your head. There were thick cuffs attaching your hands, feet, and torso to the metal bed.

It was highly uncomfortable. Especially because the “bed” was slanted. You felt the wires digging into your skin and the metal structure of the “helmet” was pressed against your skull.

The scenario felt very familiar to you. It was always how Bucky had described them except, he had the luxury to sit on a chair instead of lying awkwardly on a slanted metal platform.

You’re not really sure on what they’re planning to do to you, but you had a slight idea on what it was. The obvious one would be mind control. Although, you’re not really sure because if they had kidnapped you for your tech, they wouldn’t be able to know how it worked without you.

And it wasn’t like they could turn you into some Winter Soldier, right? You were a really great fighter but your skills leaned more towards mechanical engineering. If they could somehow make you ten times better at fighting, mind control would make more sense.

But they wanted your tech. If they controlled you or if they erased your memory, they wouldn’t have the advantage of knowing how to operate what they worked incredibly hard on to steal.

Your train of thoughts were interrupted though when you heard a series of footsteps getting closer to the room you were in. They sounded like heavy boots accompanied by several weapons of some sorts. By the way they sounded, they were most likely guns.

Whoever these people were, they had been notified of your consciousness. And as much as you wanted to try and escape, you couldn't.

Not only are you tied to the metal bed, but you’re also paralyzed. It wouldn’t help if you spent a lot of your energy trying to break free when it was clear that you couldn’t.

And for some reason, everything felt different. You couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but there was a slight difference in the way the air felt. It was like the atmosphere was suffocating you. Like you didn’t belong there.

The only logical reason you could think of was that you were still trying to adjust to being connected to a bunch of machines; and because you didn’t actually belong there. Maybe it was your brain going insane because of the situation.

When you heard the door open, you couldn’t see who the people were. Your head was staring straight forward and the door was out of your line of sight. They had entered the room and closed the door, then stopped walking.

They were most likely trying to hide their identities or mocking your paralyzed state.

From the right side of the room, you heard a man speak. It was commanding and emotionless, a voice you didn’t recognize.

The words he spoke sent chills up your spine and dread to take over you as the first bead of sweat drips down your forehead.

“Miss Stark. I think it’s time we get acquainted, don’t you think?”

---

“What do you mean you can’t track her?!”

Saying that Bucky was angry would be the understatement of the century. They couldn’t track you. Not even with the satellite you and Tony had created to scan the world for anyone who had the tracker implanted in them.

The satellite was to be used for emergencies only and the tracker was only activated when the satellite was. And now that they were using it, they couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere.

Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of you being in the hands of Hydra. Especially when they didn’t even have any clue on where to start looking.

“The satellite says that she isn’t anywhere, Bucky. This isn’t my area of expertise so excuse me for not knowing how to find her.”

Bruce was rarely ever this stressed. He always tried to stay calm in these situations because he believed that panicking or fighting wouldn’t help and would only slow down whatever progress they had.

But at that moment, he was at the brink of having a breakdown. If it wasn’t obvious enough, the young Stark meant the world to them. They had loved her ever since the first time Tony introduced you to the team and they had all made a silent vow to protect you.

The guilt coursing through them now was indescribable. They couldn’t protect you from your own self-destructive behaviours and they couldn’t protect you from Hydra. They failed to be there for you when you needed them the most.

Instead, you were the one to put on a brave face to prioritize their health and safety after the blip and the war.

All of them were scared, but no one was as terrified as Bruce, Rhodey and Happy. Tony had trusted them with Y/N and they had promised to take good care of her.

They loved her to death. Being as clueless as they are now only made them think about how there’s a chance of losing the kid they practically thought of as their own.

After a few minutes of pacing, Happy had had enough. He was breathing heavily and he was trying his best not to pull his hair out. But he knew that freaking out wouldn’t be a good way of handling the situation. The priority was to find you as fast as they could.

But they weren’t really succeeding in that. All they had was a hologram, a letter for Peter and a broken fucking satellite.

“Ok, let’s think about this. Hydra could have stolen her tech. Why kidnap her? And where would they take her? They should obviously know better than to think that Y/N’s going to tell them how this dimension shit works, right?” Sam spoke. He was, by far, the calmest out of all of them. That didn’t mean he actually was though.

“If they have someone like me, it would make sense why they’d kidnap her.”

Everyone turned to look at Wanda as she responded. Her head was hung low and her eyes were glazed over with tears as she tapped her foot against the floor endlessly.

As the realization dawned on them, they all released a shaky breath of worry. If someone were to read your mind, they would know how to take control of your tech and would possibly see the future plans you have for it.

But that’s not what they were afraid of. Once Hydra’s got what they wanted, what would they do to you? After all, you’d be useless to them if that’s the case.

They needed to get to you. Fast. As long as you were an asset to them, you would surely stay alive. God knows what they’d do to you, but at least you wouldn’t be dead.

“Don’t worry too much though. I taught her how to detect and resist mind reading. I don’t know how good she is, but I hope she can at least fight them off for a while.” Wanda continued, nervously fiddling with her fingers. You were like a sister to her, and she was internally freaking out about your possible whereabouts.

Rhodey and Strange, on the other hand, were both quiet. Although Stephen hasn’t known you for a while, he has to admit that he’s grown quite fond of you. Taking care of you was his own way of thanking your father for his sacrifice, and that’s exactly why he’s around the compound a lot.

“Maybe we can trace her suit?” Rhodey suggested. “Earlier in the lab, I didn’t notice her suit, so maybe she brought it with her and—”

“And the wall was closed.” Bruce interjected in realization. None of them knew about the new suit you were building or that you had built a new dimension behind your wall up until they saw the hologram you recorded. “The suit she built— it wasn’t there when we looked for Y/N. Her lab was clean and the wall where she hid the dimension she built was closed. They must have stolen it.”

“We already established that they stole her tech. Why is this important?” Bucky sassed. He wouldn’t usually be like this. Most of the time he was quiet so they were all trying to adjust to this version of Bucky they were seeing. The team understood him though. Bucky has always been very protective of you.

“They figured out how to surpass Y/N’s coding and they figured out how to break into her system. They managed to close the wall and they even broke into Friday.” Bruce takes a deep breath, knowing that the rest of the people there might not like what he’s going to say next. “Who else do we know who’s as familiar with Y/N’s tech as much as Y/N herself?”

“No!” Wanda yelled. “It’s not a good idea if we get Peter involved. Come on Bruce, give the kid a break.”

“I agree with Wanda. I don’t think Peter’s in the right state of mind to handle something like this.” For the first time since they got in the jet, Stephen finally spoke.

“We could try Wakanda? I’m sure Shuri wouldn’t mind helping us. Especially since it’s Y/N.” Happy said as everyone stared at him in surprise. A silent agreement being between everyone being made, determination clear on their faces.

---

Peter felt tears running down his face as he knocked on their apartment. He usually didn’t like it when aunt May saw him cry, but all he could think about now was how much he wanted May to hug him.

He knew that May would be upset by the break-up. May thought of you as family and held you close to her heart so Peter didn’t know how to break the news to her.

May opened the door, the smile on her face disappearing in a matter of seconds when she saw Peter’s tear-stained face. It reminded her of when he had lost the “Stark Internship”.

Peter hadn’t even entered the apartment when he felt Mays motherly arms wrap around him. He instantly embraces May as well, his head on her shoulder as a new set of tears went down his face.

Pulling away, May held her nephew’s hand, leading him onto the couch and hugging him once more as Peter struggled to contain his sobs.

“She’s gone, May. I broke up with her.”

She hugs Peter tighter after a slight gasp, burying her head more into Peter’s neck as she shed some tears herself. If she was feeling heartbroken by the news, she could only imagine how Peter felt.

They stayed like that for a while until she had heard Peter soft snores indicating that he had fallen asleep. A part of her wanted to wake him up to tell him to go rest in his room, but as she looked at his unconscious state, she thought that she’d let him sleep.

Because she knew that when Peter was asleep, he wouldn’t feel the heartbreak. So she’d let him be, and she'd wait until he was comfortable telling her the reason for the break up.

---

Peter woke up panting. His chest was rapidly going up and down and sweat was covering his body. And despite his sweating, the hairs on his arm and on the back of his neck stood upwards.

His head frantically looked around the room, his eyes tearing up and rapidly looking at his surroundings. He didn’t know why, but his senses were heightened and his brain was going a thousand miles per hour.

Everything felt very overwhelming and he didn’t know how to handle it. It’s never been this bad for him before. He felt like he was having a panic attack and sensory overload at the same time.

It was about 5 o’clock when he woke up on the couch with a blanket covering his body. The jolt of what felt like electricity spread all over his body and he was shaking and thrashing around on the couch.

At this point he tears were streaming down his face and his clothes were soaked in sweat. He was crying, and he was sure that he would wake up May.

His theory was proven to be correct when his aunt came rushing out of her bedroom shouting his name and repeatedly asking him if he was ok.

Peter barely felt May gently cupping his face so she could see him better because to him, everything was a blur. His whole body was on fire.

Even when May started slightly shaking him to get his attention, it didn’t work and he was still in pain. He couldn’t see May’s face properly through the tears in his eyes and May was starting to panic.

She didn’t know what was happening to her nephew and she was starting to tear up at the thought of Peter in this much pain.

So, she did the only thing she could think of. She sat down next to him and held his hand, gripping it slightly to try and ground Peter.

She couldn’t do much because whenever she touched Peter’s arm or wipe his tears away, he would flinch back because of how overwhelming it was to feel a tiny bit of friction on his skin.

As May held his hand, she whispered reassuring words to Peter to try and calm him down. It was no ordinary panic attack. Peter had had anxiety attacks before but it was never like this. Whenever his senses would act up, it wasn’t ever this bad.

“Pete, everything’s okay. I’m here and you’re safe,ok? Nothing to worry about.” The tone is her voice was laced with fear as she whimpered those words and her eyes started to blur with unshed tears.

Slowly but surely though, Peter’s breathing was starting to become normal, and his loud cries were starting to diminish. Seeing him calm down put a smile on May’s face. She bit her lower lip to try and stop a sob from escaping her mouth. She had to be strong for Peter.

“Hey, Peter.” she whispered shakily as she squeezed his hand a little tighter to let him know of her presence. Warily, she inched closer to Peter to try and see if it was ok for him. When he didn’t flinch, she moved to pull him into a hug and smiling when she felt Peter’s arms around her as well.

“What happened, Pete?”

“I-I, I don’t know May. Everything just felt too much.”

“Is it your Peter-Tingle?”

He giggled at that, finally feeling his senses return to normal. “I honestly don’t know May. It felt...different.”

When he let go, May reached out to ruffle his hair, smiling at him sweetly before standing up.

“Come on. Back to bed. Looks like you need more rest than I originally thought, Peter.” She put her hand out for Peter to hold on to, and pulled him up to stand.

“I’m not sure I can get back to bed, May.”

“Well, you should. If you can’t, I won’t force you to. Just...call me if you need anything, okay? Let’s talk about what that was some other time. You need to get some sleep.” she smiled lovingly.

“Sure, May. Goodnight”

“Good night. You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.” May said before she walked over to her room, giving him one last grin and shutting the door.

Looking at the time, Peter noticed that he had a few more hours until he had to go to school. He didn’t know whether he had it in him to go back to sleep, so he decided to use his phone and mindlessly scroll through his social media until he eventually fell asleep.

It hurt to see pictures of him and Y/N together because for a moment, he had forgotten about the break up. He had forgotten about what had happened less than 24 hours ago. It hurt more to be suddenly reminded of it.

When he saw your pictures together, it brought back good memories that only made him feel pain. He didn’t like how the happy moments of your past relationship brought him heartache. It all felt too much and tears once again filled his vision.

He had ended up crying himself to sleep, hoping that he wakes up to a much better day.

---

School turned out better than Peter thought. Yes, he was still heartbroken but Ned and MJ distracted him enough to get through it. Flash didn’t seem to pay much attention to him anyway as well, which is something Peter found weird but also something he highly appreciated.

He decided to take a break from his Patrols in order to cope a little better, but if he was being honest, he missed going to the compound. He even talked about it with May and she happily agreed, thinking that her nephew should take a well-deserved break.

After about a week, he was feeling good and he found himself getting over you way quicker than he originally thought. Of course, he didn’t ignore the fact that Queens seemed to have missed their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man but he’d be back to his duties after a few more days.

For the first time in a while he was actually having a really great time at school because he didn’t need to think about any of his superhero responsibilities. He guesses that he just forgot that this was life before the spider bite.

But it was also his life before Y/N.

It was weird for him that he seemed to have gotten over you in a matter of 2 weeks and it was especially strange for Ned and May. They knew how much Peter loved you, and his recent behaviors were something they didn’t expect.

They could obviously see his sudden interest in MJ and it was driving them up the wall. They supported him, but they didn’t support how he seemed to act like he was never in a relationship with you.

For Peter though, it’s been a quiet 2 weeks. Save for Flash’s annoying remarks towards him and the… attacks?

On and off for straight two weeks he would have some sort of anxiety attack or sensory overload of some sorts. After the first one happened at their apartment, it occurred almost every day.

He had noticed a pattern to it.

He always woke up in a cold sweat every 4 or 5 in the morning, then everything would get overwhelming at 7 or 8 at night.

But those weren’t the worst parts.

What he hated the most was the pain that he would feel at any time of the day. He once thought he burned his arm during History class and at times he would feel like he got punched. Whether it be on his stomach, his face, his side it would happen randomly.

He hadn’t told May in fear of making her worry, but he had to tell someone. So naturally, he told Ned.

It was something he had been trying to figure out for the past weeks. Something was messing with his senses early in the morning and at night.

It was something he made up to be withdrawal from almost every night patrol to none at all.

But he didn’t know what to think about the body pains.

“Maybe it’s your spider powers evolving?” Ned asked.

He had invited Ned over at his apartment to originally talk about MJ but he couldn’t hide anything from Ned. It was killing him to keep it to himself.

The random aches were getting worse so it might as well actually kill him if he doesn’t figure out what’s happening.

After a few minutes of contemplation, he exploded and told Ned everything. And if Ned was being honest, he couldn’t take the MJ talk. He supported his best friend, but he didn’t think that moving on to someone else when his break up with you was still fresh was a good way to move on so he didn’t really mind the subject change.

“I thought about that, but I’m not even sure if that can happen. And if my powers are evolving, why would it make me have random body pains?” Peter argued.

“Maybe it’s part of the process.” Ned shrugged.

“No, Ned.” Peter slowly stood up from his place on his desk chair and began pacing, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “It feels like… I don’t know! It doesn’t feel like my body’s changing. It feels like it’s coming from external forces. Like that time I felt like I was being electrocuted, or that time where my stomach felt like it was being punched. The worst was when… was when I would feel needles on my skin then my whole body would feel like it was on fire.”

Neds stands up and places his hands on Peter's shoulders, making Peter look up at him with tears in his eyes

“Peter, calm down.” Ned began as he slowly let go of Peter’s shoulders. “Can’t you call Bruce Banner or something? Or— what about Doctor Strange? Maybe they’ll know what to do.”

“It’s not that easy Ned. I’d have to go to the compound and—”

“And see YN?” Ned interjected.

Peter could only look away in guilt. He’d take all of the pain as long as he didn’t have to see you. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly gets interrupted by his phone ringing.

He grabbed his phone from his desk and looked at the caller I.D and upon realizing that it was Bruce, he answered.

“Hey Mr. Banner! I actually have to tell you something—”

“You can tell me when you get here, Pete” Bruce’s voice was stern. It was demanding.

“Where? At the compound?” He answers, his voice slightly wavering at the thought of possibly seeing you again.

“No. Wakanda. We’ll send Strange and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Wakanda?! Why??”

There was a moment of silence between the two. A worried sigh was heard through the phone after a few moments followed by two words that made Peter’s heart stop.

“Y/N's missing.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Permanent Tag List:

@spideylovin��‌ @used-avocado @why-am-i-so-obsessed-help @annoylinglyaries @autobotgirl15-blog @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @tiffy119 @eridanuswave @cherrysruin @spideygirl2003 @justyoureverydayasshole @potterheadphanatic @howdyherron @darth-andy @our-whitetulips-us @jackiehollanderr

Love, Me Tag List:

@averyfosterthoughts @spacebitch2 @teenwishes08 @strangemcuvlogs @briesangel @parkouring-mcu @marvel-is-a-mood @multifandomwhre @juliebean247 @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 @kpoplover1306-depressedgirl315 @thegirlalmighty01 @brighteyedmichelle @keep-bears-wild @iamaunicorn4704 @still-a-demon-very-ineffable @cleopatera @zalladane @vincent0kirishima @bellaaa32-blog @britishspidey @lovaehyun @babebenhardy @randomizedblog @girl-obsessed-with-things @imawkwardandhereweare @kiwi-comics @welcometomyworldwithoutrules

Peter Parker Tag List:

@inhumanwithpowers

A strike through means I couldn’t tag you.

226 notes · View notes

no-gorms · 5 years ago

Note

Hi so I just finished the second chapter of Not a Breakup, and I think this is the second time now that you've referenced a song in a fic that I'd never heard before and then really enjoyed (the first being Al Green), and I was wondering if you would ever consider making a song recommendation playlist? PS. Your writing consistently is amazing, thank you

Oooh that is very cool, I’m flattered you’d check out the music I’d mentioned! A recap, for music I can remember putting in my fics:

Natasha and Tony sing along to Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together in Fond Hearts.

Tony has JARVIS play Procol Harum’s A Whiter Shade of Pale in Not a Breakup.

Fury sings The Drifters’ Up on the Roof in Steve & Stephen’s Excellent Adventure (not a Stony fic)

Tony has JARVIS play Bruce Springsteen’s The River in.... one of my earlier fics, I can’t remember which one.

Edit: I have been reminded that in Half Agony Half Hope I had Tony listen to ABBA’s Dancing Queen and the Pacific Rim theme on repeat for how many hours straight in order to stop himself from thinking about Steve. 👀

To be honest what I mention in my fics is more of what I think the characters would be into rather just a straightforward plucking out of my playlist, since I personally listen to a LOT of showtunes and bouncy pop. Tony likes classic rock so that’s pretty straightforward, but I feel he’d also be into easy listening and progressive rock when he's in a chill mood.

So.... a random reclist of songs with a similar vibe!

Songs for Tony to groove to in the workshop:

Steely Dan - Do It Again

Stevie Wonder - Superstition

Genesis - I Can’t Dance

Billy Joel - For the Longest Time (for when he’s feeling sappy)

A general headcanon I have is that Tony plays guitar a little, and he wanted to play like Mark Knopfler but couldn't get there but that's okay he still gets to enjoy the music like:

Dire Straits - Sultans of Swing (live version with the long interlude)

Peter Frampton - Do You Feel Like We Do (also live version with long interlude heh)

Some lighter ones to relax:

Lionel Richie - Say You Say Me

Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs - Stay

Ray Orbison - Only the Lonely

Honourable mentions to some more modern tracks, because these are loud bops, and Tony likes loud right?

Lenny Kravitz - Gonna Go My Way

Take That - Kidz

#scaramouche answers asks #anonymous #superhusbands for ts #music #scaramouche makes a post

20 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

Note

How do you manage to write so much? I have this fic I'm working on and I know exactly what I want to happen in the scenes, but I struggle with actually writing the prose for it and describing the events. Even getting 500 words out is hard, so seeing you churning out content is pretty amazing to me (especially because it's all so good). If you have any tips to share it would be really appriciated!

First - thank you so much, anon! I was literally just thinking tonight about how I haven’t written enough lately and then you come in with “How do you manage to write so much?” So I think that’s a good thing for every writer to keep in mind: how we might perceive our accomplishments doesn’t necessarily reflect what we’ve actually accomplished. Those feelings are something I’d like to address here. As is abundantly obvious, the advice I’m about to offer is stuff I often struggle to follow too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But let’s see... yes, I’ve got 10 tips (nice round number) for producing writing, approaching your writing, and dealing with that pesky “How do I describe events?” issue. These are in no good order:

1. Reject the “Write ___ amount of words every day” advice. It doesn’t work. Or if it does work it’s because we’re prioritizing writing over literally everything else, which I personally don’t think is healthy. The days I haven’t written recently include things like “Battling a bad cold” and “Spent the day with Dad in the ER” (he’s fine!). If I had forced myself to write on those days it would have been in lieu of taking time to rest/recuperate, so I didn’t. If I were still demanding of myself, “You can’t lose your writing streak 😡” then I would have felt intensely guilty about taking that time to rest. That’s just training yourself to associate writing with negative emotions. Instead, I’ve started tracking my progress with Word Keeper.

As you can see, it’s all over the place, but over the last month I’ve found that it has given me a much better sense of what I’m accomplishing overall. Rather than getting upset about days where I only wrote a tiny amount, or didn’t write at all, I can now also easily remind myself of the days when I wrote a whole lot, or the days where I managed to be fairly consistent. Let your writing fluctuate. There’s something to be said for not being dependent on motivation (there are plenty of times where I encourage myself to write even if I don’t want to), but don’t hold yourself to overly rigid standards either.

2. Consider rejecting the “Write for an hour every morning/carve out a specific time to do nothing but writing” advice. If that works for you, great. Me? I’ll never manage it. Beyond the fact that I would murder mornings if I could and, as established, don’t do well with a rigid schedule, my brain is way too hyperactive to focus on one task for long. And by “long” I mean... more than 10-15 minutes. So what I personally do is alternate tiny bits of writing with something else I want to accomplish, usually another task I’m having trouble focusing on. Let’s say I need to read an article and I want to write those 500 words. Both tasks are rather daunting. 500 words? 35 pages?? No thank you. I can, however, manage 100 words and 5 pages... so I just alternate. Read 5 pages. Write 100 words. Read 5 more pages. Another 100 words. Back and forth, with amounts that work for you. Whatever is doable, even if that means something like 10 words and half a page. And if you find yourself going, “Wait, wait just 100 more words so I can finish this scene,” all the better. Do that for an afternoon and you’ve made significant headway on both projects. You can also alternate with something you want to do. I finished the latest Before the Dawn recap by doing that with The Clone Wars. One 20 minute episode, then 250 words, essentially using my show as a reward system: write that little bit so you can find out what stupidity Anakin does next.

Speaking of rewards...

3. Try using 4 The Words. I absolutely love this website because it turns writing into a game and I am an absolute sucker for validation of any sort. Essentially, you get to choose how much writing you want to get done in a single sitting - either timed or by word count - and that goal corresponds with a monster to defeat. Write the required amount in the allotted time period and you receive rewards for your avatar, experience, etc. If you’re like me and enjoy games at all, that’s a huge motivator. Maybe you’d never consider trying to write 750 words in a single sitting, but the 750 words monster drops the specific loot you need to finish a quest... so why not give it a try? I find that the time limits are quite generous and the system counts any words you’ve written, not what you decide to keep. Remember that writing is writing, so even if you churn out those 750 words and then decide you hate the whole scene, that time wasn’t wasted. It’s helping you figure out what you do want instead.

4. Don’t set those rigid standards, but try to hold yourself accountable in some manner too. That’s why when I changed my blog theme I decided to put what project I was working on in the bio and what I planned to work on next. Whether anyone actually cares about that doesn’t matter, I perceive that as, “Damn I told everyone I’d have a Witcher drabble done next. Better work on that!” That veneer of accountability helps keep me on track.

5. It sounds like you’ve already got an outline - which is great! Once you know what you want to happen, keep in mind that you don’t have to write it in that order. This is something I still really struggle with because I often post chaptered fics as I go. I can’t be writing Chapter 20 when Chapter 15 isn’t even out yet! But sometimes that’s the best way to get past your road block. If you’ve got a scene in your head that’s a little more clear, even if it’s just a tiny description or dialogue exchange, go write that instead of beating your head against the part where you’re stuck.

6. Regarding the specific issue of prose and describing events: daydream about it. Be the most cliche, cringy author who falls headfirst into their own worlds. A lot of times when I’m stuck I try to stop thinking about this as me writing a scene. Rather, it’s a scene for me to escape into when I’m bored in the car, or falling asleep, or tuning out an awkward conversation. Presumably you want to spend time in the world you’ve created, so let yourself do that, either as an outside observer or taking the place of one of the characters. Fantasize about this moment and then afterwards think back to what your brain conjured up. Going, “I need to write this fight scene now” is kind of daunting and maybe you just sit there, having no idea how “fight scene” translates into actual pages of action. If, however, you daydream about an epic battle you might later go, “Oh yeah! I/they did that cool flip move to disarm the opponent. Let’s see if I can describe that...”

7. If the problem is more “I know there’s going to be a cool flip move but how do I describe that without just saying ‘The hero did a cool flip move’???” Let yourself just write “The hero flipped the sword out of his enemy’s hands.” Probably the most annoying part about writing (besides, you know, all of it) is remembering that you can, should, and must revise. Write a shitty description and move on. Come back to it later. Composing the rest of the scene will help you make the description less shitty the second time around. And want to know a secret? It’s probably not nearly as shitty as you first thought it was. A lot of times I churn out what feels like truly horrific descriptions, let it sit for a while, and when I come back to the work as a “new” reader I think, “You know what? There are definitely things I want to change, but this isn’t nearly as bad as I remember it being...” Again, writers often can’t be trusted to judge their own accomplishments.

8. Research things. Watch stuff. Read stuff - and pay attention to the fact that you’re currently reading to learn. No one is born knowing how to write compelling scenes. That comes of not just practice, but engaging with a ton of other stories and consciously/unconsciously pulling from them. Not sure how to write a cool fight scene? Go read some cool fight scenes. Watch your favorites on Youtube. Pull a detail from here, there, then weave them into something new. Some authors claim they won’t engage with any stories similar to their own because they don’t want to taint their own ideas, but that’s just trying to write without providing yourself with any fuel. If you want to know how to describe a farm, go read others’ descriptions of farms, look at pictures of farms, watch TV shows with farms in them, etc. Same with anything else you might be stuck on.

9. Remind yourself that some kinds of writing are going to come more easily to you than others. That’s not just in regards to things like dialogue vs. prose, but also big categories like fiction vs. nonfiction. Me? I can (quite obviously...) write a ton when it comes to asks and recaps. Explaining my own thought process comes very easily to me, and I’m long-winded, which means that when the project is something like, “Tell readers what you thought about this book” I can churn out 4,000 words easy peasy. Fiction though? That’s a slog. That’s where I’m writing in 100 words chunks, sometimes pulling each word out with all the joy of enduring a root canal. I will never - EVER - be a Stephen King writing 2,000 words of fiction a day. And that’s okay! Every writer is different and it does no good to compare ourselves to others who are writing more (hard as that is) because there will always be someone doing it “better.” That’s a competition we can’t win. Getting writing done is as much a mindset as it is a skill. Teaching yourself to go, “Yeah! 50 words today!! :D” is going to help more than berating yourself with, “Oh. Only 50 words today :(” But a part of that is also recognizing that you probably wrote a whole lot more than just 50 words. Do you write for your job? Answer emails? Keep a journal? Answer asks? Text whole conversations with your friends? Writing of all sorts takes energy and it all “counts.” If you spent the day catching up on your messages, it’s no wonder you might struggle to write more during your free time. Saying you “haven’t written” today because you didn’t write fiction as well as all the writing we naturally do on a daily basis is absurd. Sometimes you’ve just got to recognize that and let yourself watch some TV instead.

10. Finally, WRITE “BAD” THINGS. This is something I’m still really, really struggling with. It’s very much connected to #7, but try to let yourself accept what you’ve produced at a certain point. Doing that will, in time, help you produce more things in the first place. The author who obsesses over writing the perfect paragraph is unlikely to get to the second... and writing the second paragraph is what’s going to help them develop the skills to make the first paragraph better. Put aside the perfectionism. I’m currently trying to do that with my original work. I have lots of ideas for flash fiction and, like you, I know precisely what will happen in them... but I struggle to actually write the stupid things. I’ve recognized that a lot of that difficulty stems from how bad I perceive them to be. When a story doesn’t sound like that flash fiction with the national award attached to it my brain goes, “Well, looks like we’re trash! Time to stop writing forever and ever 🙃” At some point you’ve just got to take a mental broom and beat that bastard voice into the back of your mind, far enough to start writing again. Try to accept that no, our prose probably won’t win any awards. Also try to accept that hey, someday maybe it will. But neither can be reality until we actually write the story. So one of these days I’ll set a goal for a flash fiction, finish it, post it here for you masses to judge, and try to shrug off all the scary feelings that come with that. Every good writer has to write a LOT of bad stuff in order to start producing something decent, let alone good... so let yourself do that. The more we can concentrate on why we want to write, rather than those “Ugh this description isn’t good enough” or “I can’t even get 500 words done” feelings, the more we create a situation where, in time, we will write astounding descriptions and far more than 500 words.

All of which is much MUCH easier said than done. But I hope this helps at least a little, anon! 💜

#writing #writing advice #fic things #Anonymous

23 notes · View notes

honkytonkdyke · 5 years ago

Text

Essential Services

pairing: ironstrange

word count: 4,001 (unintentionally too!)

warnings: mentions of COVID-19, but not by name. alcohol and smut are heavy topics in this as well.

a/n: well @babywarg and @merelypassingtime, it’s here! it only took me ages, but i did it. i’m pretty proud of this one too! i hope you both, and anyone else who reads this fic enjoys it!

BREAKING NEWS: STATEWIDE CURFEW IN PLACE. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOMES AFTER 8 PM.

The local news station's theme blared from his television's speakers as the headline scrolled across the bottom of his screen. Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, checking his watch for the time.

7:23, his watch read, and he laid back against his couch, fighting the urge to leave the house. He knew it wasn't safe, and of all places, where would he go? His favorite eateries and restaurants were closed due to nationwide quarantine, and he couldn't find the motivation to rummage in his pantry to make a meal. Tony certainly didn't want a drive-through fast-food meal at this time a night, but there was something he did crave.

Was it the boredom that had finally gotten to his head? Had he been isolated for so long that he had lost a grip on all the positive progress he had made? Maybe it was the lack of communication with the people who helped him make that uphill climb that plunged him this deep.

Whatever it may have been, Tony hadn't the slightest clue why he had made the decision to search for the address of the nearest liquor store. But alas, he clothed himself in a long-sleeved shirt, warm pants, and a heavy sweatshirt before slipping on his thick shoes before stepping out into the bitter cold New York City air.

Stephen sat in his chambers at the sanctum, a book opened on his desk before him. His phone beeped every few minutes with an update on this wretched disease he hated to hear about.

The governor of New York has issued a statewide curfew. Please do not exit your homes after 8 pm.

The sorcerer groaned at the message and stuffed his phone in his pocket. Stephen turned the volume down to silent and focused on the spellbook he currently studied. As he read through the materials needed to perform the unlearned divination spell, he recognized liquor was a key ingredient, much to his dismay. The sanctum didn't house liquor for the safety of its inhabitants, so Stephen would have to venture out into a sickness ridden realm to retrieve this key component of the spell.

Stephen donned himself in a woolen sweater and sweatpants; his appearance did not matter in these trying times. He sighed and prepared himself for the cold he had to face.

Stephen read the directions to the liquor store once more and embedded the street name and storefront in his mind. As much as he despised going out this late in the evening, he spoke to Wong before stepping into the bitterly cold and diseased realm.

The liquor store seemed to act as a common ground for the two men, even if they had gone to the shop for uncommon reasons. When they did meet, it was at the door, both of the men rushing to shield themselves from the cold.

“Excuse me!” Stephen exclaimed as he fell in behind the stranger. “I am terribly sorry, are you alright?”

Tony shot around at met the man’s eyes. With a spark igniting in his chest, he responded, “I’m fine,” he lied, hiding his enthusiasm beneath his low tone. “Thank you though. And yourself?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes, thank you.” As he walked further into the shop, he began to realize that he and the man were tracking the same aisles, possibly for the same alcohol.

The shelves had been climbed over, Tony noticed. All the best and cheapest brands had disappeared. However, if he had wanted the best, he could have had it imported and at his doorstep tomorrow morning. Tony wanted something to distract himself and ease his mind for the night.

Tony skimmed the shelves, jumping from one liquor to another. He hadn’t drunk in ages, and the names of the beverages felt like people he didn’t want to associate with any longer. Something in his heart tugged him to the door, but the longing in his chest to relieve his boredom overcame that urge and kept him between the shelves.

Stephen came to an aisle where the stranger from the door stood, and he found himself at the alcohol he needed for the spell. His fears had been relieved, for there was a singular bottle left of the shelf. Now he just had to hope that the man adjacent to him would not be on a quest for the same bottle.

Tony noticed the man a couple of feet away from him. He gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but he decided not to speak. Just as he reached for the final bottle of his preferred alcohol on the shelf, his hand collided with the stranger from the door, and he felt heat run to his chest. Their eyes met, and quickly, Tony pulled his hand away.

Stephen’s heart jumped in his chest, and his eyes darted between the man and the bottle. “I need that,” Stephen spoke, “more than you do, I’m sure.” His tone exuded confidence, but the last thing Stephen wanted was to find himself in a fight with a drunk.

Tony rolled his eyes and an eyebrow rose on his forehead. “Yeah, I highly doubt it. I’m bored out of my mind, this is all I got.”

“Bored?” Stephen scoffed and grabbed the liquor from the shelf. “There is a for this bottle, one I cannot disclose to you.”

“Oh, a secret?” Tony let a smirk crawl up his face and stepped forward. “Do tell,” he fake whined, “why you need this exact bottle of liquor so badly.”

“It’s got the highest percentage of alcohol in the store. It’s the purest, just what I need for my endeavor,” Stephen explained while still keeping his wizardry secret safe. “It also explains why it’s so understocked.”

Tony nodded and looked the man up and down. “Listen, I don’t want to hear your vague, half-assed excuses about why you need it more than I do. Give me a straight reason and I’ll let you keep it.”

Stephen rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with a stranger in the liquor store about a bottle of alcohol. Okay, at least before I tell you, will you give me a name?”

Tony’s eyes looked to the shelves and back to the man. “Tony,” he told. “And I need yours.”

“Well, Tony,” Stephen replied and crossed his arms, the neck of the bottle in his tight grip. “My name is Stephen. And I have some questions for you.”

“You have the questions for me? I don’t understand why you’re hoarding the alcohol when you make it pretty clear, based on the fact that you haven’t given me an actual answer as to why you are so persistent in keeping it to yourself,” Tony rebutted as his voice began to grow in volume.

Stephen shook his head. “You haven’t given me a chance to explain myself!” He glared at the man. “Do you really want to know?” his voice was low as he eased closer to the man. “There’s so much you would have to know if I told you why.”

“You’ve got until eight o’clock, and it’s already seven forty-five. I’d suggest you hurry this up, or we’ll get caught walking home,” Tony reminded, his eyes focused on the bottle. “If you’re afraid of someone hearing you’re a drunk, need I tell you we are in a liquor store. Just say what you have to say.”

Stephen exhaled, his glare never letting up. “I don’t have anything to say. You’re making me say why over a bottle of alcohol. You know what?” He summoned the cloak. “Woah, now,” Tony exclaimed as the red seemingly sentient cloth wrapped around his torso and began to pull him from the aisle and through a doorway.

Stephen smirked as he followed Tony and the cloak into the backroom. He shut the door with a wave of his hand behind himself and snapped his fingers. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. “I have as long as you do,” Stephen spoke as he took a chair from behind the desk and moved it against the wall. He commanded the cloak to set Tony in the chair.

The cloak did as it was told, throwing Tony’s restrained body into the empty chair. After performing its task, the cloak disappeared into the air.

“What the hell was that?” Tony exclaimed. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape at the sheer unbelievability he just witnessed. “Who are you?”

Stephen smiled. “I’m a sorcerer, a master of the mystic arts. I need the liquor for a divination spell that requires the highest alcohol concentration I could find. Since I can’t make alcohol in a night, I decided I’d visit the nearest liquor store. If you can give me an answer better than being bored than maybe I’ll decide to give it to you. However, based on how it’s looking with this virus, this might just be the only alcohol I’ll be able to get for a while. So you better have a damn good reason.”

Tony realized why the man was so reluctant to tell him his true reasons. They were odd but based on what he had just witnessed and the fact that he was tied to a chair with seemingly no bondage, his claims were incredibly believable. He was no longer bored by the facets of his life, for this wizard had graced him with excitement. Maybe he could find a bit more of that excitement before he departed empty-handed.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Tony spoke and eyed the man and up and down. “You leave me with a memory of you and I’ll let you have the bottle. Something to ease my boredom for the time being. Based on the red in your cheeks, I’d say you might want something more than alcohol as well.” A sly smirk climbed his face.

Stephen’s chest jumped in an internal gasp. His mouth parted to speak, but the intensive, desirous gaze of the man before him took the words from his tongue. “The deal wouldn’t be fair. I’d be getting two things and only one of them I actually need,” he managed to say as a tightness grew in his stomach.

“But you know you want to make it, Stephen,” Tony continued, a glimmer of lust in his eyes as they met Stephen’s. “You haven’t had a distraction in years.”

Stephen pulled his eyes away from the man for a split second, but the strength of Tony’s gaze brought his eyes back to the man. He bit his lip. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” Tony answered. “I promise, no one will know and unless you want this again, we can part ways.”

Stephen lowered his eyes, succumbing to his deepest wants for the first time in years He placed the bottle on an empty wooden carton and eased back over to the man in the chair. He broke the man’s bonds to the chair and watched him stand.

“Thank you,” Tony said with a slight smile and brought his hand behind the sorcerer’s head, resting it at the base of his neck.

Stephen flinched at the sparks of arousal under Tony’s fingers. He wished to speak, but a thick silence lingered in the air he refused to break. He tried to calm his heart rate as Tony rested his arms on Stephen’s shoulder.

“Relax, Stephen,” Tony crooned and began to sway with the man. “Enjoy this.”

Stephen nodded and leaned into the embrace, his tight muscles slowly starting to loosen under the man’s touch. He let out a sigh as Tony’s lips began to trail down his neck, planting soft but eager kisses on his collarbone. Stephen’s hands eased to the hem of Tony’s sweatshirt, and he grabbed the shirt underneath as he lifted the clothing above his head, exposing the man’s bare chest to the warm, wet air of the cellar. He set the clothes in the empty chair.

Tony slowly undid the buttons of Stephen’s sweater and draped it over the chair where he had sat. He ran his hands across Stephen’s chest. His body was warm to the touch as heat radiated throughout the sorcerer’s body. He continued to kiss the man’s chest lightly as his fingers played with the seam of his sweatpants. He dragged his fingers down his groin and let them dance beneath the waistband and along the sorcerer’s hips. He loosened the sweatpants and let them fall to the floor at Stephen’s feet.

Stephen gripped the fabric of Tony’s trousers and pushed them to the floor, suddenly becoming eager for the man’s touch once again. He wished to please the man and leave him with the touch of which he asked.

Tony let out a chuckle and he did the same to Stephen as the couple eased over to the desk in the corner of the room. He leaned against the desk underneath Stephen.

Stephen, as he regained his confidence, stated, “Turn over. I think you’ll be more comfortable if you’re propped against the table.”

Tony bit his lip and did as he was told, feeling the arousal build in his chest once again. Even if the man’s hands were scarred, the touch of his fingers was soft and tender. He anticipated the blissful feeling he was about to experience for the first time in a long time as Stephen pulled his boxers below his knees.

Stephen eased his underwear off as well and leaned his hips against Tony. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low.

Tony looked back at the man and exhaled. “Of course, Stephen. Give it your all.”

Stephen let out his nervousness with a breath and positioned his hips at the correct angle for comfortable entry. He held his hands against Tony’s side and swiftly thrust into the man, stroking his skin softly to comfort him.

Tony moaned deeply, pleasure seeping through his voice. “God, Stephen,” he managed and bit his lip, suppressing even louder cries of his pleasure. “Keep going,” he said through clenched teeth.

Stephen thrust into the man slowly, rolling his hips at a bitterly pleasurable pace, careful not to tire himself out, for both of them. He loved the tightness around his cock, the likes of which he had not experienced in ages. Beads of sweat rolled down his bare chest, his hands becoming slick at the sweat from Tony’s skin.

As Stephen plunged himself further into Tony with each roll of his hips, Tony moaned his name like a mantra, begging for more and faster at that. But Stephen wished to go as long as he and Tony’s bodies would let them, for he didn’t want to end this moment for either of them. He wished to sustain his energy and prolong their shared pleasure to the very end.

“Are you still enjoying yourself, Tony?” Stephen spoke, his lips lowered to the man’s ear as he bucked his hips, not able to break his wave of movement into the man. “I do hope you are.”

Tony nodded and let out a moan as his lips parted to speak. “God, yes, Stephen. You are - agh!” he exclaimed as Stephen gave a harder thrust than the pattern before. “Right there, Stephen!”

Stephen’s thrusts became quick and rough as their skin began to clap against one another’s, the sound of sex filling the room. As Tony moaned and writhed in pleasure, Stephen held his grip on Tony’s hips as he felt the man contract around his cock. He knew the man was close to his climax. He continued his quicker and uneven thrusts, wishing to bring the man to his peak.

Tony’s mind became clouded with bliss and his body rocked in ecstasy as he was brought to orgasm by the man. He rode the waves of his climax as his chest heaved and he was unable to speak or open his eyes due to the intensity in which he came.

As Tony returned from the pleasurable high of his orgasm, he wished to bring Stephen the same bliss in which he gave him. “You haven’t come yet, have you, Stephen?”

Stephen found himself caught off guard by the question and still enthralled by the convulsive nature of Tony around his cock. He hesitated as the question took a moment to process through his mind.

“No, not just yet,” Stephen answered, his chest rising and falling as his breathing began to steady. “Would you like me to continue until I do?”

Tony let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Let me get you there, Stephen. If you would, go ahead and slide out of me.”

Stephen nodded and brought himself out of Tony. He moaned at the sudden change, immediately desiring the feeling of the man around his cock once again. He watched the man turn around and come to his knees on the ground, smiling at Stephen as he did so.

Tony ran his thumbs down Stephen’s groin and looked up at the man. “Are you okay with this?”

“Go ahead,” he replied and grounded himself in the echoed grasp of Tony held against Stephen’s hips. Arousal continued to build in his abdomen as the man’s fingers inched closer to his groin and stroked undefined patterns into the skin.

Tony leaned into the man and kissed the tip of his length before stroking the shaft ever so slightly with his tongue. He steadied the man as he jerked under his touch, guiding him into the act. Tony gradually took Stephen’s cock into his mouth, tasting the saltiness of his juices as they eased down the back of his tongue.

“Dear God, Tony!”

Stephen let out a bright moan, his hands seizing the table for leverage. Pleasure surged through his veins, and he was unable to focus on anything but the man before him. His hips bucked impulsively as if to ask for more of the heavenly sensation from the man. Stephen fervently cried the man’s name as Tony ran his lips up and down his length.

As the tip hit the back of Tony’s throat, Stephen quickly came undone before the man, his seed spilling in Tony’s mouth. His body trembled in euphoria, and a sea of moans fled from his lips as the effects of his orgasm spread throughout his body. He chanted Tony’s name under his breath as he slowly came back to full awareness of his surroundings.

Tony removed his mouth from around Stephen’s cock and let out a heavy breath. He smiled as he caught his breath and stood to meet Stephen’s eyes, gathering their undergarments from the floor. He wiped a bead of sweat from the other man’s forehead and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Are you satisfied, Stephen?” Tony asked sweetly, handing Stephen his pair of underwear and pulled his over his groin.

Stephen donned himself in the garment. “I am.” He smiled. “And you?”

Tony nodded and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. “Get dressed. I’ll walk you home.”

Stephen gathered his clothes from the chair and the floor and dressed quickly, making sure he was tightly wrapped in each article of clothing. He dreaded going back out into the cold. The effects of their sex still lingered, however; for his mouth still formed a euphoric, soft smile.

Tony clothed himself in the many layers that had been strewn across the floor and smoothed out the fabric. He still felt Stephen’s tight grip on his hips as he pulled over shirt over his head and smoothed out the wrinkles at his waist. He gazed at Stephen.

“Are you ready?” Tony asked and walked over to Stephen. He pushed Stephen’s dampened hair off his forehead.

“Not looking forward to going out in the cold, but let’s get this over with,” Stephen answered and let out a soft chuckle.

The room, still silent as before they engaged with each other, suddenly came back to life as the clock began to tick once again.

“You know, I forgot you had done that,” Tony admitted as they exited through the doors of the backroom.

Stephen, with his liquor bottle in hand, shut the door behind himself and approached the front desk. He took a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and his identification, handed it to the man behind the counter. “Keep the change,” Stephen stated.

The store clerk lit up. “Thank you! He slid the card back to Stephen. “Would you like a bag or receipt?”

Stephen shook his head. “No, but thank you, sir. Have a wonderful evening.”

Tony opened the door for the sorcerer and held it open as he walked through. He waved to the shopkeeper as he shut the door behind himself. The cold engulfed the two as they walked down the New York city streets.

“How often do you have sex with strangers?” Stephen asked and smirked at Tony. “If you mind me asking.”

Tony chuckled. “Not much anymore. This was the first time I had actually done something with a person in almost a year, since my last relationship.” He sighed but smiled at the man.

“Maybe we could do this more often if you enjoyed it enough tonight,” Stephen suggested, his hand trembling by his side. He looked to Tony, his eyes filled with the hope of a budding relationship. He truly did enjoy this man’s company.

Tony nodded, his eyes falling to the man’s side. “That’d be really nice, actually. Maybe sometime soon if this quarantine doesn’t last too long.” He paused and took Stephen’s hand into his. “Thank you for tonight. I really needed it even if it was over a bottle of alcohol.”

Stephen smiled and raised the bottle, his hand struggling to hold it in the air. “I did too.”

They walked together in comforting silence for the next couple of blocks before reaching the sanctum on Bleecker Street. The stopped at the steps to bid one another farewell.

“Here’s the address of this sanctum and my phone number,” Stephen spoke and conjured a small card in his hand. He gave it to Tony, pressing the card into his hand. He chuckled again and met the man’s eyes. “Do you think the government would consider this trip essential?”

Tony shrugged and placed the card in the pocket of his pants. “I don’t know, Stephen. But it may be a while before we see each other again.”

Stephen nodded. “My full name is Stephen Strange. I realized I didn’t tell you at the liquor store, I thought you might need to know if we’re going to keep in touch during this. I hope to see you again.” He smiled.

“Tony Stark,” the man responded and pressed a kiss to Stephen’s cheek. “I do too, Stephen. I’ll call you soon. I’ll even visit if I can.”

Stephen blushed at the affection of the other man. “I can portal to you with my magic. That way I won’t have to get out in this mess and risk getting sick. Do you think you’ll be able to make it home before the curfew starts? I’ll open you a portal if you want.”

“That’d be wonderful. How would you be able to get the right location?” Tony asked, in awe of the man’s ability as a sorcerer.

Stephen smiled and twisted open an orange sparkling portal in front of the man. “Location charm. The portal recognizes the target and where it wants to go.” He signaled for Tony to enter.

“Goodnight, Stephen. Stay safe,” Tony said, a bright smile on his face. “I hope I don’t have to meet you at the liquor store again.”

Stephen shook his head. “You won’t. Goodnight, Tony.” He smirked as the man waved and walked through the portal. Stephen brought his hands together, and the sparks disintegrated before him. He took his bottle from the steps and entered the sanctum for the night.

#ironstrange #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange fanfic #vadesmasterlist #vadesfic #vade's post

45 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 5 years ago

Text

Nanwum IV toolboxkit

I have a love/hate relationship with the word “tool”. On the one hand, tools are awesome. I like holding a big screwdriver and thinking about all the screws I can loosen with it. I ordered a thing at work yesterday and I can’t wait for it to arrive. There’s a rush of power in knowing some object will solve a bunch of problems. Look out, screws.

On the other hand, it annoys me how people use the term “tool” in a more abstract sense, like statistical “tools” or using a flow chart to figure out what to do. I can’t hold any of that crap, so calling it a tool feels like a bait-and-switch. But I can appreciate the power of the term. If you can liken a thing to a power drill, then you have my attention.

Anyway, this weekend is for making preparations for National Novel Writing Month, which starts next Sunday, so I thought it would be useful to go over the stuff that I use to get me through it.

1) The NaNoWriMo website.

Back in 2017, I seriously considered not even bothering with the website, because I figured it had nothing to offer. I’m the one doing all the work, right? But tracking progress is an effective motivator, and I like being able to see a chart that shows how well I’m doing. There’s some bugs in it. For some reason it doesn’t show my Camp Nano April 2018 as being complete, and when I tried to fix it, it doubled the word count instead.

It’s also useful for where I’m at today. Now that I’ve done this thing a few times, I can measure current performance against past years. November 2018 was my personal best, so I’m going to use that as a model for this year. I don’t need to beat 2018-me, but I do need to remind myself that I’ve performed this well in the past.

2) George R. R. Martin motivational desktop wallpaper.

I started doing this as a joke, but looking at this dude sitting at his computer, not writing is a much more powerful motivator than I ever thought possible. The idea is that if I minimize the writing window to do something else, I have to look this dude in the eye before I can look up Robocop clips on YouTube. I’ve had months where I was struggling to meet the goal, and then I went “Oh, yeah, I forgot to change my desktop pic, and it pushes me over the finish line. It’s like Popeye eating spinach.

Now the Tone Police will take issue with something like this, and call it arrogant. “How dare you put down a highly successful fantasy author just to make yourself feel confident,” they’ll say as they wag their finger. “Don’t you care that you might be making procrastinators feel bad?” To that I say: fuck’em.

See, I’m a world-class procrastinator in my own right. I have to get hyped for this stuff every year, because that’s the only way I can build up enough momentum to see it through. Like all Sith Lords, I have to call upon all of my emotions -- fear, anger, pride, fernweh -- to fuel the creative monster. I don’t make a dime on this, so if I can’t take some bloody satisfaction out of it then what’s the point?

I’m pretty sure George doesn’t even know I do this, but in case he’s reading this, let me address him specifically: George, I’ve cranked out three of these Nanwums and you still haven’t finished Winds of Winter, which is well on its way to becoming the Duke Nukem Forever of modern fantasy. I don’t know if you got soft, like Rocky in Rocky IV, or maybe you’ve lost your confidence like Rocky in Rocky III, but you have to kindle a fire under your ass, even if it’s a silly fire, like fear of dying before the book goes to print, or getting it done just to spite assholes like me. But find something and use it.

3) Kenny Omega vs. Sonny Kiss, AEW Dynamite 10/21/2020

youtube

This was a first-round match in a tournament for the right to challenge for the AEW World title, and it was Kenny’s big return to singles action, so I guess the idea here was to make him look strong by having him crush Sonny Kiss in under 15 seconds. I’ve seen blowouts in wrestling before, but this one speaks to me on a different level, and I’m sorely tempted to swap out my GRRM image with this shot of in-the-zone Kenny Omega.

Because I feel this right now. This isn’t like last year or the year before, where I got behind working on stuff in October so I wasn’t fully prepared. I got all caught up a few weeks ago, and I have eight days to get ready. I haven’t written a thing in weeks, and I’m itching to get back to it. I want a big Day One total to start the month off, and seeing this match makes me want to aim even higher than 7000 words. Can I hit 10,000 in one day? The Cleaner sure thinks so. Clapclap-clap clap clap.

4) Focus Writer

You can check it out for yourself at https://gottcode.org/focuswriter/

The main selling point for Focus Writer is that it can be used for “distraction free” writing, in that it’s default setting makes it tricky to minimize the window to do other stuff. But I turned that off a while back. For my purposes, I just need the word counter.

One thing I learned while editing work instead of writing from scratch is that you can just set the word count goal to 100 words. That way, the percentage displayed at the bottom of the screen will keep track of how many words you’ve written in that session. So if you write 1275 new words, the counter will say 1275%.

I used to set actual goals, like 3500 words for the day or whatever, but I found myself constantly trying to calculate what 53% of that is, and that ended up being a huge distraction in itself. So now I just stick to the 100 word “goal” and use it to track my actual progress, rather than setting lofty goals that I may not need to actually hit. The Nano website does that for me anyway.

5) The Adventures of Dumplin

I’m essentially adapting the events of Dragon Ball Xenoverse 1 into this story, so I could break out my PS3 and play it through again to remind me of all the stuff I wanted to use from 2015, but it’s a lot easier to just watch someone else play it instead. Team FourStar’s playthrough of the Xenoverse games is some of their best material, as far as I’m concerned, and knowing this is one of my go-to references is going to make this November pretty awesome.

I’m not sure I could, or should, work Dumplin into my fic. If I did, he couldn’t be the same guy who saved the day in this LP series, because I’m having Luffa do all that. Early on, I envisioned a scene where she wakes up one morning after a night of heavy drinking and finds Dumplin in bed with her, but that seemed a little too goofy to use. But I want you to have that mental picture anyway, so I’m writing about it here.

6) Diet Pepsi

Straight Edge, Hard Core. Stephen King’s a wuss for using cocaine to help him write.

#nanwum iv #i'm gonna fuck this november up proper

5 notes · View notes

lolablackwrites · 7 years ago

Text

20 Questions Tag Game - Writers Edition

Thank you to @lizeboredom and @tmarie82 for the tag!

Respond to the following writing questions and tag me in your response! I look forward to hearing your answers as I’ve always been curious about these!

1) When/what age did start writing?

I started writing stories when I was 6 years old. I’m one of those freaks who has always known what they want to do for a career.

2) What inspired you to start?

I’ve always been obsessed with books and stories. Plus, as an only child, I had a lot of time to myself and a very active imagination.

3) Where and when does inspiration usually strike you?

Usually when I don’t have access to a pen, like when I’m taking a shower or lying in bed. At least when I’m in bed, I can text notes to myself for the next day.

4) Where and when do you usually write? Morning? Late at night? On the bus? In bed?

Whenever I can, but I’m most creative in the middle of the night. I’ve written multiple books at 2am (and then my kid wakes me up at 5am 😂)

5) Do you listen to music while writing? If so, what genre/playlist?

It really depends on the day. Sometimes I need silence, but usually I like to listen to music, especially if I’m trying to set a specific mood for a scene. I actually wrote a post about this on my blog (SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) which you can click here to read.

6) Which category do you like best? Angst? Fluff? NSFW? Other?

NSFW for sure. I often refer to myself as a professional smut peddler 😂

7) Which category do you find most challenging to write?

Fluff is actually the hardest for me to write. NSFW is easier for me because there’s a clear end goal for the participants in a scene, whereas fluff you have to get the characters to just connect emotionally. Physical connection is obvious; emotional connection is more subtle.

8) If you had to pick your favorite Choices book, which one would it be and why?

Alright, if I have to choose which foot I love more, I’m going to say It Lives in the Woods. I read it way after everyone else did so I binged the whole thing and I was completely addicted. Then again, I’ve always loved a good supernatural mystery (I was a sucker for Goosebumps books as a kid).

9) If your Choices LIs were real, which one (and only one) would you personally want to be with?

Zig Ortega. I think that’s pretty evident from my fics, haha 😂

10) Do you share any physical characteristics with your Choices MCs? Pics/Selfies optional 😊

I think the closest resemblance is to the white MC from The Freshman et al. I’ve got huge eyes (a friend in high school used to call me Dobby).

11) Which MC do you share the most personality traits with?

Probably the MC I created for my Writer’s Retreat series, Charlotte (The Freshman et al. AU). She’s a hot mess and I relate to that on a deep, spiritual level 😂

12) Which Choices character do you feel you have the best grasp of in terms of personality?

Hmmm . . . maybe Chris Powell from The Freshman et al. He reminds me a lot of a guy I used to know so I’ve been able to draw a lot from my real life experience to understand his character.

13) What’s your favorite Choices pairing to write for?

Probably Zig and my MC from The Freshman et all, Lydia who I featured in my Wanderlust series and several one shots. I’ve also really enjoyed writing Kenna and Diavolos, I love their dynamic.

14) What is a pairing(s) you hope to start writing for?

Thomas Hunt x MC. I have plans for him in my Boxer AU series (I swear I haven’t abandoned that series!) but I feel like I’m still getting a sense of his personality and character.

15) What do you hope to improve in your writing?

Everything! But more specifically, I want to improve my attention to detail. I feel like stories are made or broken in the attention to detail, so I want to make sure I’m always conscious of that and continually improving.

16) Any pet peeves related to writing?

Writer’s block is the bane of my existence. Of course, that’s usually a sign that I need to step away from a story and go for a walk.

17) Are you inspired by any IRL experiences when you write? Care to share?

Constantly. I think all writers draw from their real life experiences, especially when it comes to creating characters. Most original characters are amalgams of people I’ve known.

18) Is there any particular piece of work you consider to be your ultimate writing goal? Something so amazing you hope one day you’ll be up to that standard?

I’m incredibly inspired by so many writers, but I wouldn’t say any one of their works is my ultimate writing goals. I’d rather aspire to be the best version of me as a writer instead of trying to duplicate someone else.

That being said, here are a few of my favorite books that I re-read constantly:

Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling Hearts in Atlantis by Stephen King Coraline by Neil Gaiman Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCaffrey (and the rest of the books in the Jessica Darling series) Summer Sisters by Judy Blume Wifey by Judy Blume The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

19) Did/do you write for any other fandoms? If so which ones?

I wrote a one shot for Star Wars (SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT) which you can click here to read. I also have some Avengers and Harry Potter fanfics that are in progress.

20) In your spare time (when you’re not writing) what other hobbies do you pursue?

Writing is both my hobby and my career, which means I’m pretty much always writing 😂 But I love to read and I’m a big film buff. I also love great TV shows; basically anything with great storytelling, I’m all about it!

I think most people have been tagged, but here are a few just in case: @kennaxval, @mrswalkerwrites, @i-dream-so-i-write

#Ask Me Anything #Survey Says

6 notes · View notes

liz-allyn · 2 years ago

Note

Heyyyyyyyyy who wants to hear Lizzy's Opinions That No One Asked For™️???

You know I was thinking about this brilliant response and why I’m afraid of multi chapter fics. Honestly, I didn’t want to begin anything as big as S+V mostly bc i thought my anxiety would take over my life. It has but that's a different story.

The biggest problem I have with only posting completed works is that I know I’m not going to write a whole fic without posting any part of it. That’s just reality. I'm too needy for attention. I sat on the first chapter of heat of the moment forever and finally decided to just post it when I hadn’t made any progress towards finishing the second chapter. That added an element of accountability which for me (adhd brain) is helpful.

The current series I’m working on started with 0 idea of how it would end, which is not the way I normally write. Instead, it’s forced me to change my approach to writing. It reminds me of a quote from Stephen King—something to the effect of the key to a good story is good characters, getting in their skin and letting them dictate where the story will take you.

Honestly it’s been terrifying, but also freeing? Instead of following a very specific outline, I just have a bullet list of things I want to happen, some potential ideas to debate later, sometimes full-on scenes written that i can copy/paste, sometimes it’s just dialogue. It’s forced my brain to not think of the endgame, but think of the thing I really want to write.

When I get stuck, or frustrated with how something is going, I’ll move what I’ve written to a bullet point and then allow myself to sit on it for a few days. (This is why I could never stick to a set schedule for posting, the thought of a self-imposed deadline even if internal makes me anxious.)

If I’m really stuck or not sure what to do, then I need to ask myself

is the next scene I’m trying to write really necessary to understanding the story?

Is it something that can be summarized in a paragraph? (This also helps me prioritize my random ideas.)

is it something that can be illustrated with a simple sentence or even a heading? (I think about Stephanie Meyer putting a month on a blank page to give you an idea of what life was like for Bella once Edward left. Or the moment in Avengers: Endgame where the screen fades to black and FIVE YEARS LATER comes up.)

Also what really has helped me, is reassuring myself that it’s okay to break the rules. This isn’t the Super Bowl, it’s practice. All you need on tumblr is to be grammatically coherent enough to read. Did you write the first chapter as a ‘reader-y/n’ then decide fuck that’s hard? Then switch to oc. Used 2nd person but feel more comfortable in 3rd? Change it with a note. Or no note. As a reader, the tense has never mattered as much to me as the story. If it’s really an eyesore, then eventually you can go back and change the first chapter online, (or just wait until it’s a published novel and about to be considered for a Pulitzer.)

Start writing from anywhere in the story and see if you can connect the dots.

Also, something I'm starting to realize with Y/N/OC characters:

All protagonists are y/n characters. They’re all Mary Sue. And that's perfectly fine. They are pieces of the writer that we want to further explore in a safe environment, of our personalities and experiences. They’re Horcruxes, put into a test tube, exposed to the extraordinary elements of your story, from which a hypothesis can be derived. With that sort of thinking I have an easier time ‘letting the character dictate the story.’

Anyway, @privateanxieties is a great writer. This is my 2 cents.

Hi, first of all, I love your work so much. You understand the character, and your writing is so eloquent and compelling, it’s UGH love it. The golden age has a very special place in my heart, makes me as writer go “this. this is what I want to achieve.” Tangent aside, just wondering if I could get some more info on the next update of “the nearness of you in my imagination?” 🫶

Hiiiiii! Thank you so much! The golden age is my favorite story I've written so far. I think I was just in a different headspace entirely, and more focused than I am now. I also wrote it for me and no one else, and I think generally, writers do their best work when they don't pay any mind to things like audience reception. I honestly hope to write more like this in the coming months.

As for the coffee shop AU... boy, if that story isn't banging pots and pans in my head because I want to finish it, and at the same time, I don't even know what I was going for when I wrote those chapters. I think something got away from me and the more I tried writing the next chapter, the more frustrated I got. I suppose I'm not very good at writing serial fics without finishing them first, and then posting. I wrote a little more of the next chapter in December, and should I finally have a serious conversation with the stubborn part of my brain, maybe I will finish it this month. For now, here is a little snippet of Chapter 5:

------------------------

"Alchemax is a hydra. With over four hundred official divisions worldwide and who knows how many unofficial hiding holes, the likelihood of escaping their grasp once the tentacles have ensnared you is slim. It's this knowledge that has kept Peter nailed to his spot at the edge of her bed until the clock struck 7 p.m., long after he returned from the subway station.

He should have never left her alone. Waiting for her on the fire escape after their fight was the worst decision he made, but he figured she needed some time to cool off. She was safe, after all. She had his scarf.

But then he found it lying at the bottom of the stairs, the brown wooly fabric turned a nauseating maroon and the tracker he'd sown into the lining crushed beyond use. She couldn't have done that herself. Either the scarf was removed by her (and considering his fuck-up earlier, there was a high possibility), or it was forcibly removed by someone else. The blood on the stairs makes him think of all the ways she might've been killed, but the absence of a body has him hoping against all hope.

He was minutes late when seconds counted. Now, he has no idea where to start looking.

Is he even looking for her? Or is revenge the only remaining option? They would not have killed her so quickly. Why threaten and intimidate for weeks just to end it with no grandiose gesture? Why break into her apartment just to leave without incident?

No, that's not like Powell, Peter thinks. And tonight, Spider-Man will pay him a visit.

Being kidnapped is not the ideal way to find out things about yourself, but it is no less effective than any other method. For example, she'd probably have to undergo a year of therapy just to figure out she's not as afraid of dying as any normal person should be. Instead, here she is: figuring it out in the less than twenty minutes that she's been awake, strapped to a vertical slab of metal. She's not afraid of dying, because she suspects it would be preferable to whatever is in store for her.

It's quiet where she is, and bright enough that keeping her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time hurts. The two or three times she's tried inspecting her surroundings revealed little more than the sterile environment she could already identify using her sense of smell. White tile, stainless steel, glass and antiseptic - the laboratory setting is unmistakable and not that fascinating. She isn't terribly interested in studying it. It only adds to the stress bubbling under her skin, weighing down already heavy limbs. Everything hurts. From the moment she came to, the pain worked to propel memories to the forefront of her mind.

Stairs. Cold. Sharp edges. Acute panic. Stolen breath. Despair. She cycled through the abstract until the concrete materialized soon thereafter.

Someone pushed her, that she knows. She tumbled down an interminable flight of stairs that cut into her kidney and broke more than one or two essential things. At the bottom, her head cracked off the pavement so hard that it erased the pain for one blissful second. It didn't last. Lying there in disbelief, involuntary squawks and forced breaths all disordered, she waited for something to happen that would annul reality. Maybe she would wake up in bed. Maybe her body wasn't giving out on her.

The taste of copper threatening to choke her contradicted everything her mind came up with to soothe itself, until it finally caved into nothingness.

She was making her way out of the station, lost in bitterness and on the verge of angry tears. She wasn't paying attention; she was trying to shove down feelings that made her chest tight and her hands clammy. Played. Strung along. Used. Exploited. Coaxed with sweet words and overt affection. Before her stomach was churning with dread and pain from the fall, it was already gnawing at her from sheer defeat."

---------------------------

So. Yeah.

I also have a problem with this story because I wrote it in the present tense and have since written all my other stories in the past tense. It's getting harder and harder to switch!

I'm sorry to keep people in suspense, waiting on a story that isn't finished, but at least I know now not to post any kind of story in chapters before it's well and truly wrapped up. It's not just better in terms of managing expectations, but serial writing is just very open to a lot of errors, plot holes, inconsistent characterization etc...

I hope you stick around to see it finished! Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts with me, it means a lot! :)

#on writing #writing is hard #fanfiction #writing advice #creative writing #writers block

10 notes · View notes