#it's late i was working and i'm tired so this is minimally edited and i can't remember what museum gift shops sell but DONE IS DONE

[bluethespiai]

Fictober Day Seven

Prompt: #6 “Adaptable, I like that.” Fandom: DC Comics (the Flash) Characters: James Jesse, Hartley Rathaway, Barry Allen Rating: PG

"So, what's your plan now?" the Trickster asked, as easily as if they were just standing at a bar. Hartley didn't answer, and not just because he needed to save his breath for running.

"The Flash really scuppered your plans with that sound-sucking tornado," Trickster continued, apparently not understanding that silence was a rebuke, "and I'm sure the cops'll be handing out earplugs by now."

Hartley skidded into the next alley and ducked behind a dumpster. He peered around the corner cautiously. Good, they'd - he grabbed Trickster by the ankle and hauled him down - they'd lost the cops, and the Flash would still need a minute or two to round up all the civilians. He had some breathing space at least. Time to think up a new plan, something clever, something ingenious, something that would be much easier to think of without the distraction of a pair of garishly colored leggings (it was definitely the leggings that were distracting, not - whatever was inside them) dancing around his head

"I was doing fine until you came along," Hartley snapped.

The Trickster snorted. "You were? So, your plan involved the Flash spinning you around like a top? You're more interesting than you look. And that's saying something," he added, casting a look over Hartley's outfit.

"Says the man dressed like a walking, talking hazard sign," Hartley retorted.

The Trickster just grinned and folded his legs beneath him so he was sitting cross-legged half an inch off the ground. Hartley had to admit he was jealous. This alley was filthy. He leveled an intimidating look at the Trickster and ignored the way his lip quirked.

"All right, what was your plan, genius?"

"Oh, it was genius. See, I had it all rigged up. Three bombs, yeah, hidden all around the city, and they all go off together. At the exact same time, I cut all the lights to the Museum and sneak in. I place this clever little device -" he pulled something that looked like a cheap plastic dinosaur out of his pocket - "on the glass of the display case and voila -" He jiggled his hands like a dancer, pressed something on the bottom of the dinosaur and it, his hand, and his arm all the way to his elbow disappeared. "It's gone!" 

Hartley reached out cautiously and touched his fingertips to the Trickster's. "But it's still there?"

Trickster nodded.

"Then how do you get it out of the museum?"

"That's the best part! I don't!" The Trickster was grinning widely, and apparently sincerely, but Hartley could only stare at him, feeling his jaw actually physically drop. 

"What's the point of that!?"

"Oh, come on. The Flash assumes I stole it somehow, he can't figure out how I did it, I must be a genius, but he's got to get it back! So he goes running off, all around the city, but he can't find it, oh no, the clever Trickster has outsmarted him again! And all the time, it was still in the museum!"

"You're insane."

"And you're boring," the Trickster said with a pout. Not that Hartley was looking at his mouth. "You have to admit, it's -" he continued but something else had caught Hartley's attention, a buzz, a vibration, a throbbing that sucked at his eardrums - a noise that was getting to be horribly familiar.

"Shh!" Hartley hissed. "I hear something!"

The Trickster at least had the sense to shush immediately and even scooched a little closer. "Is it the Flash?" he whispered

Hartley nodded. Oh, damn the Trickster, he hadn't used that breathing space to think at all! He glanced around wildly for ideas, but all he had was the Trickster and his invisible hand!

Wait.

"Give me that!" He grabbed at the Trickster's device, but, given it was still invisible, only succeeded in closing his fingers around his hand. He let go like he'd been burnt. "Please," he added awkwardly, hoping the Trickster wouldn't notice his blush. "I've got an idea." He couldn't decipher the look the Trickster gave him behind the mask, but he did give him the device so hopefully, he hadn't noticed Hartley being weird. "Can you get the Flash's attention?"

"I thought that was what we were trying to avoid," the Trickster remarked, but he floated upwards and over the dumpster as he said it. Hartley huddled further into the shadows and fiddled with the device's settings, he was pretty sure - yup, there it was. He got everything set up and snuck out from behind the dumpster, following the sounds of explosions to a few streets over, where the Trickster was dancing around the Flash's head.

"This way, quickly!" he shouted. The Trickster dropped a smoke bomb immediately and pelted towards him over the air. Hartley led him quickly back to their alley but when the Trickster tried to duck behind the dumpster, Hartley grabbed his hand to stop him. The Trickster frowned but shushed when Hartley stuck a finger to his lips. They waited, Hartley listening carefully for that telltale rumbling of air. As soon as it was close enough, he pulled out his pipe and played a quick tune. As the Flash rounded the corner, he heard the Pied Piper's song and saw them and the wall between alleys disappear. Hartley immediately dived sideways, dragging the Trickster with him - remembering at the last second to slap a hand over his mouth as well. The Flash blurred past them, too fast to stop, not quite fast enough to vibrate through a wall he wasn't expecting. He collided with the wall with an almighty crash and reappeared, on his back in the dirt, and (Hartley hoped) unconscious.

Hartley let go of the Trickster before he burst, and he fell on his butt, laughing so hard Hartley thought he might be sick. Hartley left him to it and crept over to the Flash, cautiously hovering one hand over his face to test his breath. He let out an internal sigh of relief at what he found - he still hadn't killed anyone. The Trickster was recovering now, only giggling occasionally rather than completely convulsed with laughter, and he followed over to where the Flash was lying. 

"I doubt he'll be out for long," he observed, "we should get out of here."

Hartley nodded and was about to suggest they split ways (but maybe meet up later?) when the Trickster swept him into his arms and started rising smoothly into the air.

"You know, I think I like you," he said, either ignoring or (please, please!) not noticing how pink Hartley was getting. "You're adaptable. We should team up again.”

“I'm James, by the way," he added, with not a mad grin or a smug smirk, but a smile. It was a nice smile. 

Oh no.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Writing Isn't Flowing/Word Count Low

Anonymous asked: I saw people doing 10k words a day challenge on YouTube and it made me think about making my own writing sessions longer/more productive. Not 10k words, but something more sustainable for me. I have an outline, but I usually write about 500-800 words, rarely 1k, when the words start to feel heavy and I need to take a break. Sometimes the inspiration is there and the words flow, but more often than not I have this heavy feeling. I try not to focus on word count too much, but still think I'm writing too slow. Any tips on how to write more? 🌸

[Ask edited for length]

The first thing to look at is your outline, because people say "I have an outline" but their outline is, "Sarah wakes up and goes to school, she meets a cute guy, then later he asks her out. Then she gets in trouble in class and goes to detention. Then after school, there's a big fight. Sarah is late getting home and gets in trouble with her mom." That's not really an outline so much as a really general summary of events. An outline would be: Sarah wakes from a strange dream to the sound of her brothers arguing. After calming them down, she helps her dad get everyone fed then walks to school with her best friend Maria. Maria tells her about a cute boy she met at the library the previous evening... Outlines are more detailed so there's not as much guesswork to do when you sit down to write.

Consider your current situation, because sometimes the words aren't flowing for obvious reasons. Are you tired? Not feeling well? Distracted? Overwhelmed? Uncomfortable? Sometimes these things can be helped, like making sure you get more sleep and trying to minimize distractions, but you can't help it if you're not feeling well or if you have a lot on your mind. But, really taking the time to analyze your situation and see what you can help does make a difference.

Fill your creative well by consuming other stories (TV, movies, books, video games, etc.) and by doing creative exercises and things to help your creativity flow. Guide: Filling Your Creative Well

Try writing sprints. If you have a solid outline, a full creative well, and no obvious situational dampers to your writing, you might try doing writing sprints instead of sitting down for long writing sessions. You can experiment with how much time works best for you. Many people do 30-minute sprints, but you could do ten, fifteen, or twenty. Any number that works. So, you would choose the length, set a timer, and sit down to write until the timer goes off. When it does, you'll take a break. You might stretch for ten minutes, go for a short walk, put a load of laundry in, tidy up your room... then, you set the timer and go again. Breaking up your writing session into sprints can be a great way to keep yourself engaged and to minimize that sense of the words getting heavy.

Last but not least, if none of the above work, try reading through the relevant posts on my Motivation master list of posts.

Happy writing!

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[prince-liest]

Hello! Since I’m binge reading all of your Genshin fanfics I wanted to ask how would you describe your experience contributing to zines? I’m considering it and wanted to ask someone who’s done this before. Is the process fun? Stressful? Both? I’d assume writing with a deadline is not easy! When did you first start? Don’t spare details please, tell me everything about your experience! I have minimal knowledge on the topic

Hey, there! I'm glad you're enjoying my Genshin works!! And of course, I've been in about three fucktillion zines by now so I'd be happy to talk about what it's like! Long post under the cut:

Not all zines are the same but most of them follow approximately the same outline of expectations for you as a contributor, which is:

After you've applied and been accepted, you're sent an acceptance email with a link to the zine server.

You join the server, and after a few days for everyone to trickle in, the mods will post a spreadsheet or a google form where you can submit 2-3 pitches, aka. ideas of what you think you could write for the zine, which should be reasonably different from one another. The reason for having 2-3 is so that not everyone ends up writing the same thing. I prefer when zines give spreadsheets rather than google forms so that I can see what other writers are pitching and make sure I'm not submitting something samey. There will likely be guidelines for what you can pitch (limitations on characters, ships, rating, etc).

(Optional) Some zines do author/artist collabs, and this is usually the time period during which folks figure out if they'd like to collab, and if so, with whom.

After a week or so, you are told which of your pitches you will be writing for the zine.

Creation period! Now you write a fic based on your pitch, usually 2-3k words in length depending on the zine. There's usually 3-4 check-ins scattered throughout the several month period that you get to write during, when the mods basically want to see how far you've gotten to make sure you're making progress. Sometimes you have the option of asking for feedback, but often the writing mod isn't going to be doing that until your final piece is submitted.

At the end of the creation period, you submit your final piece, usually with some formatting stuff like "highlight every time you use italics so the formatting mod can see it." The writing mod will beta it, toss it back to you so you can accept edits, and then that will be the final version in the zine. Voila!

Everything after that is just you waiting for preorders and production. Other stuff that will probably happen at some point includes submitting a snippet for the graphics mod to make a little preview graphic of your piece, and reblogging/retweeting zine stuff during preorders to promote sales.

To answer your more specific questions:

I started in late 2020 when I applied to a Hawks-centric My Hero Academia zine at the same time that I was invited to a My Hero Academia and Harry Potter crossover zine, both of which were an amazing experience. I find that the deadline is really not a source of stress, because you get several months to write 2-3k words and each check-in is only asking for a little bit of progress. My first check-in, for example, is pretty much always just the outline. That said, I'm not really applying to zines anymore (unless something exactly up the alley of my current hyperfixation pops up, which at the time of writing would be a Hazbin Hotel or radiostatic zine, haha) for a few different reasons.

Firstly, I've legitimately been in four dozen zines. I've scratched the itch, haha.

Secondly, particularly in the Genshin Impact space, the zine craze caught on so aggressively that the average quality of zine mod teams declined pretty sharply. There are a number of zine mods that I really trust, and I've been in some phenomenally run zines, but I'm also just kind of tired of the physical production period of a zine taking a year or longer when I know it can be done in like three months. Not to mention the number of times people in the zine space have straight up absconded with money.

Thirdly and most importantly, the actual part of zine writing that I don't enjoy very much anymore is the limitations put on my writing. It's an inherent and understandable part of the process that a fic has to be within a specific word count and topic, but I also have just hit the point where I personally want to write whatever the hell I want without coming up with three separate fic concepts and hoping that the one I actually feel passionate about is chosen - not to mention I've actually ducked out of zines before when the mods were so nitpicky about what they wanted me to write that it felt less like I was a guest writer invited to create something of my own, and more like they were looking for a cheap way to basically custom commission writing from me. And I've also noticed that the pickier the mods are about my writing, the less I end up liking what I create. There's actually three zine fics, now, that I'm never going to publish because I just don't think they turned out very good, and they are all from zines where I felt my writing got micromanaged.

All of that said, I'm basically highlighting the small number of things I disliked out of, again, four dozen zines, so I really encourage you to go for it! A well-run zine is a blast to be a part of, and my favorites have always been ones where it is clearly a labor of love and genuine interest.

Here are some tips when choosing a zine to apply to:

Look at the mods and their pages, and look for mods that have completed zines in the past, but aren't currently part of 4+ incomplete projects. For mods, you want experience, but you don't want someone who's just jumping into every single project they see.

Every P4P zine I've been a part of has been fucking amazing so far. These only get made in certain fandoms, though (mostly danmei). I'm sure they're not all perfect (there's one I know that's a little sketchy), but I think the lack of promise of profit attracts people genuinely invested in the project itself rather than money or clout or whatever.

Pick a zine that you know you will enjoy writing about the subject of. Don't apply to something because you like the character it's about, but you don't actually really know what you'd write for it.

Make sure they have a reasonably large number of followers on Twitter and appealing graphics. This speaks to a couple of things: 1) how well the zine is likely to sell and 2) how well the social media and other mods actually know what they're doing in terms of promo. If a zine has less than several hundred followers and they want to put out a physical copy, I would personally hesitate, because there's a good chance they won't break even on sales. Especially in the Genshin Impact fandom specifically.

Hopefully that was helpful! If you have any more specific questions, feel free to throw them my way.

[sailoryooons]

Yo im so tired of people on here coming into writers inboxes and complaining about shit. THIS IS FUCKING FREE!!!! Were fucking lucky that they are responding to ANY messages about their work let alone fucking unconstructive and rude complaints. Because they literally don’t have to do any of this at all. NOTHING! They can post one chapter of a series and hype it up and then never post anything else about it again. They can write for one fandom for years, then switch on a dime and never write anything else for it again. They can say again and again that a fic is almost done then never release it. They don’t owe us shit. It’s a privilege to be able to read the drabbles, scenarios, and fucking novel and series-length stories with the themes, characters, and world-building that we love so much. And then to be complaining about some editing???? I’ve begun stories that I’ve been excited about the premise, and the grammar has been to the point that it’s completely pulled me out and I couldn’t finish it even though I loved where the story was going. I’ve only been reading works on this blog for like a month now, so I don’t know about old stuff. The last one i read I read (the jin gamer/roommate fic i think?) there were like maybe 2 or 3 times where i had to go back and reread and piece together what the intention was or where there seemed to be a missing word, but that’s so rare and like, didn’t pull me out of the story that much. And it’s fucking free! If i paid for a book, then i might be disappointed, but if i paid for a book, there probably would have had a whole publishing team that would have edited that out in the first place!!! Go read things you know are edited if you dont like it and don’t bother people who are providing free things that don’t hurt anyone because of dumb ass reasons.

I 100% get if you don’t post this if you don’t want all this yelling and negativity, but I hope you know that you are appreciated for what you give so freely. This is just one of many comments ive seen lately come to writers on here and while some of them have seemed to come from well-intentioned people, there’s like a sense if entitlement that’s completely unearned behind it that makes me fume! I try to stay out of other people’s business but this made me so mad!!!

Hi wow okay first of all - thank you for overall just getting it. Writing is a really hard thing to do and there are a lot of content creators on this website who are churning out content and trying to do their best to make it good enough for those who engage with them.

I agree with a lot of points on this - when we start to consider reader/writer relationships, a lot of people don't realize that there really isn't an obligation on the writer to do things the way that they're expected, whether it's updating at a certain frequency or editing a certain way or just... anything. While most of the CCs I know (including myself) rely really heavy on audience feedback for the way that we do things, there are certain perceptions, comments or expectations that are just super tiring.

While I totally understand how my minimal editing can seem lazy or like I don't care - that's certainly not it. It's just really the lesser of two evils for me - either I can use editing programs if I don't have someone to beta immediately, or I can delay posting for a few days while I get my bearings and edit.

Most of my writer friends will tell you that editing your own stuff is hard for some people. For some writers it's super easy to pump out a huge fic and turn around and edit. For others, it's not. It's really about what works best for each person, and this is currently what works best for me (I get really nervous delaying fics over and over again because I don't give myself enough grace and time to finish).

But overall - yes, agreed with a ton of things you said in this and I'm responding publically because I think there are a lot of really great points about the writer/reader relationship and expectations.

Editing more is something I definitely want to work on and I'll be better at asking for betas (I always feel very intimidated to do this) but yeah. Thank you!!

[choices-binglebonkus]

I haven't caught up with TPA since like late December, but I've been rereading your post about 10 Rights and Wrongs with TPA and I wanna add my thoughts on it. I'll mainly only comment on stuff that I have something to say about. These may be subject to change when I complete the book.

Soundtrack

Agreed with you, it's absolutely brilliant. It has a James Bond vibe that I like, and even ignoring that it's just really well-composed. I love the adventurous intro theme especially, as well as the steamy scene track– I will happily listen to those on repeat and never get tired.

Outfits

Agreed on that too, I didn't vibe with majority of the f!MC outfits besides the default ones but they still did do a good job making them look good for the most part.

I definitely hate the fem MC having a crop top as the cold outfit. I wouldn't mind it as much if they did the same with m!MC; it'd still be impractical, but like, either give both of them crop tops or neither of them crop tops. Enough with the "must be sexy because woman" outfits, goddammit.

Speaking of shitty outfit gendering, I also hate that m!MC's "sexy underwear" equivalent to fem MC's lingerie is a goddamn robe and boxers. The robe is admittedly nice and has a "luxurious evening" vibe that I like, but come the fuck on, stop playing it safe and basic with the m!MC and m!LI outfits all the damn time.

Vivian

I'm very mixed on her. On her own, I quite enjoy her as a character. She's fun, she's got some good lines, and she doesn't really come off as obnoxious.

But in the story, she just feels weirdly out-of-place in it? Perhaps because I've associated TPA as being the Choices' edition of a James Bond adventure, so it does feel unusual to have one of the main characters be a quirky nerd type. But hey, that does make TPA a little more unique.

But while I haven't caught up, I know others said that missions and tasks are way too easy with her being present, hence the lack of stakes.

Hookups

I didn't play any actual dirty-30 hookup scenes, but I did enjoy the buildup scenes to them and I'm sad we haven't gotten other hookup opportunities. Especially since I played as wlm, where the dynamics were very different from how PB usually writes their average wlm romance. I am forever here for male Lou swooning over f!MC being heroic and male Alexis's femme-fatale-esque persona. I found them way more interesting than the majority of MC and Agent Grey's dynamic. Speaking of which...

LI

One thing that is nice about the romance is that MC is the one who is more experienced in GAIA while Agent Grey is the new member. Honestly it's very refreshing (especially as wlm) considering how often PB's romance involves MC being the newbie and LI being the boss/teacher/celebrity/etc.

But character wise? Agent Grey doesn't work as an LI. Or at least not a main/single LI. It's It feels like they're only the LI by virtue of being MC's work partner. I'd rather Agent Grey have just been... still our work partner, but also as a casual hookup option like Alexis and Lou rather than our romance interest.

Possibly controversial opinion, I think a book that is just "no romance, only casual hookups" would be something unique for PB to write (granted the hookups don't take over the entire story). PB needs a break from writing romance and it shows.

GOC/Pronouns

A lot of people said this one "actually feels like it was written with male MC in mind for once". I have a lot of issues with that statement due to the fact a lot of the fandom's takes on what counts as "female coding" can be very dubious.

Regardless, even if this was written with mlw in mind, I've still been finding it very enjoyable and made sense (dare I say better and more unique) in a wlm route.

Any actual gender coding errors I've seen or heard about are very minimal. Though I will say that it made me want to sob to see male Agent Grey's swimsuit described as a "swimsuit that hugs his hips" despite his swimsuit in question being boring swimtrunks and a basic-AF open beach shirt rather than, yknow, a swimsuit that actually hugs his hips.

And that's about all I've got for now.

Thanks for your insights anon!

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Katsuki Accidentally Hurts His Girlfriend And Must Face The Repercussions.

Edited: 2-24-2021

From the moment that Katsuki Bakugo had unlocked the door to his apartment, you had known he was in a bad mood. While usually, Katsuki tried to leave all the moods and feelings he gathered up in the day at work and tried to return home in a happy mood of good report, sometimes it didn't work out like that.

That would be Katsuki's greatest misfortune and downfall.

It had been a shit day. Katsuki had failed to save a citizen and he couldn't get their face out of his head. Lately, Katsuki had been noticing the citizens he couldn't save rather than the ones he did save. To top that off he had missed lunch due to said emergency in the city, and all the articles he had been seeing pop up whenever he opened his phone weren't helping his mood.

It was your day off, you were allowed to go out and enjoy yourself. You were allowed to hang out with friends that weren't Katsuki, yet knowing you were out with his rival ex-friend all day, and seeing the articles claiming you were cheating on pro-hero DynaMight with pro-hero Deku left an unsavory feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Katsuki knew you'd never cheat, even still, jealousy was a nasty thing.

Katsuki walked into the apartment and slammed the door behind him, a telltale sign that he was in a bad mood. You momentarily paused your rummaging through the fridge for food to look up at him. He walked right past you to the bedroom, no hi, no hello, no kiss on the cheek. Another telltale sign he was pissed off.

You debated going after him to find out why he was so pressed but ultimately decided against it, Katsuki was such a hothead, it was better to let him cool down before you approached him. Your thoughts were futile once Katsuki came out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind himself once again.

"What's for dinner?"

His voice came out gruffly and you tried not to take his tone to heart. Katsuki wasn't one to talk about what he was feeling, it was better to leave it alone until he was ready to talk to you. You knew how rough his work was and how stressful it could be on him, mentally and physically.

"I just got home not too long ago so I haven't had a chance to make anything yet, is there something special you want me to make?"

"Christ, what? Were you out with Deku all day?"

Again, you tried not to take his words to heart, but he made it really hard. You leaned against the counter and crossed your arms, resisting the urge to scowl at him. You didn't know if jealousy or something else was behind his bad mood, but it wasn't fair to take it out on you. It felt like lately Katsuki had been coming home madder more and more lately. You'd begun to feel a little hopeless and stuck, never knowing when you were going to start an argument.

He hadn't meant to make you feel such a way. All his emotions could just be so overwhelming.

"Today was my day off. I'm allowed to be out with my friends."

Katsuki scowled at you and clenched his fists at his sides. You ran your fingers through your hair, stressfully pulling at some of the unintentionally knotted strands. This was going to end in a fight. You knew it would. These days it always did.

"I'm not an ass, I'm not saying you can't be out and about, but maybe text me saying you're gonna be with that dumbass all fucking day. I could've picked up dinner or something."

Katsuki pulled a drawer open from the counter, one that held numerous takeout menus and coupons. He scrambled around for one before pulling it out and slamming the drawer shut.

"I don't know what you want me to say, I'm sorry I was out all day, I'm sorry I didn't make dinner. Fighting isn't going to change that, can we just order something?"

"I'm just saying it's really inconsiderate. If your gonna be out with a man and not tell me, leaving me to hear it from the tabloids saying you're being a cheating whore, I'd like to hear it from you."

He hadn't meant it like you were cheating, he meant it as in that was what the media was making you out to be. Katsuki was just incredibly hungry and tired, resulting in him feeling irritable and angry, that paired with all the negative feelings he had built up that day weren't good. He hadn't meant to take it out on you but he was. His words hand incited an argument, one bigger than the ones you'd ever had before, and soon you and Katsuki were screaming words at each other.

Amongst the argument, Katsuki had done something he'd vowed never to do. He let his anger get the best of him and accidentally released one of his explosions on you. With the quick blowing sound, you were soon on the floor, budding tears building on your eyes as you held your arm to your body. It looked like you had taken minimal damage, still, the action brought Katsuki to his knees in worry as he tried to grab your body.

"Fuck! [Y/N], I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- Are you okay!?"

As if his touch had burned you, you pulled your body out of Katsuki's grasp and pushed yourself away from him. The explosion was close to your ear and you couldn't hear what he was saying very well but you could read hIs lips. You pushed yourself further away from him while you let the tears cascade down in pain.

"Don't... Don't touch me! Don't touch me, don't talk to me. Leave me alone."

Your screams at him are enough to make him stay. He stays frozen in his own shame and regret. As your pulling at your phone and dialing his former friend's number he stays frozen and unmoving. As your shouting in the phone at Deku, unable to hear his voice, Katsuki makes a move to go to you, but your scared expression at him made him stop, it made him back away even.

He had taken his anger out on you. He vowed never to do that to a civilian let alone his girlfriend, and now he'd wrecked your relationship. This was something he could never take back or fix, all he could do was sit back as his former friend swooped in and took you to the hospital. All he could do was sit back and watch as Deku picked up the pieces of a relationship he had broken.

[septicstories]

Big Life in a Small Town (Part 1)

A/N: This is based on the song "Santa Fe (Prologue)" from the Newsies musical! It's not based on the plot of the musical. The song will be altered a tad, but not too much! In the next part though, I'll have to do some edits. But for now, you've got this... mess? I dunno, I'm writing this before it's done. This is post-X-men Apocalypse, so Peter is in his late 20's.

Genre: Bittersweet fluff

Warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of broken limbs, daddy issues, no beta reader, minimal editing

Word count: 1.3k (1,385 words)

The X-mansion was quiet, the cool midnight air only changing currents occasionally when a silver blur sprinted around.

Pietro had his younger brother in his arms, running around. Peter injured his leg a while ago, stuck on crutches. ANd it was killing the young speedster.

And Pietro noticed.

So he scooped his younger brother up out of his room, running him around the mansion's vast yard until he smiled. That's when he brought him up to one of the rooftop balconies of the mansion.

The two siblings weren't the only ones in their family who lived in the mansion. Pietro's twin, Wanda, was fast asleep, her room near the balcony.

Pietro, as immature as he may seem, was wise beyond his years. He'd seen more things than he ever would have wanted to for a 35-year-old man. Hell, anyone would be unsettled when you find your mother died of sickness, and your father was out of the picture when your younger brother was born a few years after.

Pietro and Peter sat on the balcony, a case of beer between the two, a sudden scoff came from the older speedster.

"What's up, you alright?" Peter asked, looking at his brother.

Pietro's eyes were glued to the ground below them, a sour expression on his face.

"Those streets down there," Pietro began, a dry laugh leaving his lips. "They sucked the life right out of our old man. Well, they aren't doing that to me."

Peter pursed his lips, watching as his older brother took a swig of his beer.

Pietro has always hated staying in one place for too long. The mansion hadn't really ever been his favorite place. Staying at their aunt's house in D.C. was something he looked forward to every summer. But, even then, he could only stay there for a few days before needing to go somewhere else. Not just from his need to move, but the U.S. government still wasn't absolutely fond of mutants.

"But everyone wants to come to New York," Peter let out a small chuckle. To an outsider, it'd sound like he was in disbelief, but he understood how Pietro felt.

Staying in one place was hard. But Peter also managed to make himself a family here at the mansion as he grew up. He met the ever-sweet Jean Grey when he was 20 years old. The poor girl had some trauma that no one but Chuck knew about. He got to meet Hank, and Raven, and all of the other younger kids. He thought of them all as his younger siblings.

He couldn't leave.

"You keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town."

Pietro's words snapped Peter out of his thoughts, looking to his older brother. Pietro's eyes had lifted from the ground, looking up to the sky.

"They say folks are dying to get here."

"What about you, Piet?"

"Me? I'm dying to get away... to a little town out west that's spankin' new," Pietro said with a grin. "And while I've never been there, I can see it clear as day! If you want, I bet you, you could see it, too.

Peter has always had a particular question on his mind, that he always knew the answer to.

Then why haven't you gone? What's stopping you?

But, as always, Peter kept his mouth shut. He didn't want Wanda and Pietro to leave, as dumb as it may be. They were the only family he had left. Well, that he knew of and that knew of him.

Erik was another person he'd address when he had the courage.

But not...

Not now.

"Close your eyes."

Peter looked at his brother again, who was staring back at him. Honestly, he was waiting for his brother to snap in his face and use what became his favorite phrase after a few movie nights: "Hello, McFly?"

"Come with me, where it's clean and green and pretty, and they went and made a city out of clay."

Clay? A city out of clay? That sounds... odd. Peter hasn't stayed too long in other parts of the world, opting to stick to the Northeast area of the U.S. Occasionally, he'll go further South or a little bit further West. But never past Kansas.

"Why, the minute that you get there, folks will walk right up and say, 'Welcome home, son. Welcome home to Santa Fe!'"

Being called son was something the Maximoff boys wanted more than they would ever elude to. Their father? Out of the picture for the most part, up until they realized he was a terrorist. And he didn't even know about Peter.

Of course, the townsfolk of Santa Fe may not call you "son" as soon as you land on the premise. But, two bastard sons can dream, can't they?

"Planting crops. Splitting rails. Swapping tales around the fire," Pietro's grin grew as he spoke. He really thought about this a lot, didn't he? "Except for Sunday when you lie around all day."

Peter didn't know how much Pietro truly thought about leaving. Pietro's mind was full of places to go and see, places where he could take his family and live without having to deal with attacks from the U.S. government.

Santa Fe was where they'd go next in the U.S., but Sokovia was certainly the next best option. The U.S. government wouldn't come looking for them in Sokovia.

Right?

"Soon your friends are more like family, and they're begging you to stay! Isn't that neat?" Pietro asked as Peter took a large sip from his beer. "Living sweet in Santa Fe."

Pietro trailed off, almost in a dream-like state, making Peter flinch. He really fucking wanted out, huh?

"Hey, no one worries about a bad leg in Santa Fe. You just hop on a palomino, you'll ride in style!" Pietro joked, knocking his shoulder into his brother's.

"Feature me, ridin' in style," Peter giggled, taking a swig of his beer again.

"Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good!"

"Santa Fe," Peter and Pietro mumbled in unison, one happy and the other more tired. "You can bet, we won't let those bastards beat us. We won't beg anyone to treat us fair and square. There's a life that's worth the living, and I'm gonna do my share."

"Work the land, chase the sun." Pietro ran his hands through his hair, standing up.

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!" Pietro and Peter shouted together. The two had massive grins spreading across their faces, just happy to see the other smiling.

"Watch me stand!" Peter stood up quickly, only to feel a sharp pain jolt through his bad leg. His hands flew to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as he let out a choked noise of pain.

"Watch me run..."

Pietro frowned when he saw his brother's grimace, watching Peter set himself down into a sitting position. The poor kid was gritting his teeth and sucking in harsh breaths as he set himself down.

"Hey, hey..." Pietro began softly, sitting down beside his brother before slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you know that we're a family?"

Peter's eyes met Pietro's, painting over his grimace with a weak grin. "Yeah, b--"

"Would I let you down?" Pietro asked.

Peter let out a weak laugh as his brother continued.

"No way. Just hold on, kid, until that train makes Santa Fe."

The younger speedster let out a yawn, leaning his head on his brother's shoulder.

"Let's get you to bed, okay?" Pietro said, only getting a nod from Peter.

Pietro scooped his younger brother up in his arms, speeding through the mansion into Peter's room before setting him down.

"Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Pietro."

Pietro sped out of Peter's room, only to be stopped when he passed Wanda's room. His sleepy twin gave him a look, one that he didn't see often, and it concerned him.

"Pietro, we're being called to Sokovia," Wanda whispered sleepily.

"What? Why? All three of us?"

"No. Peter needs to stay here. He's got a broken leg, Pietro. Just you and I."

Pietro took in a quick breath before nodding.

"When do we leave?"

"... you didn't see that coming..."

A/N: Haha, cliffhangers are fun, ain't they? Okay, but, here's what you have for now! The other one is already in my drafts, and I've got plans for that! So, I'll get all that shit out, and we'll be good! I've got so much shit in my drafts, holy shit. Okay, uh... I don't have much to say, so thank you for reading! I don't necessarily have a tag list for this sort of stuff, so if you want to be on a tag list, let me know! And please let me know if you find a typo or something that doesn't make sense. Like I said, there's minimal editing.

[klywrites]

hello! this is probably a weirdly specific ask but I've been following u for a while and u seem nice. I was wondering if u have suggestions of authors who write short and seemingly randomly? I have adhd and even when I write I jump one thing to the next often with little warning. I know I can edit it later but.. I don't want to. I want to keep it that way but I don't now if that's too weird or confusing or messy? I'm worried people will find it boring and not deep enough but its the only way I can write and I don't mind reading stuff like that myself. thanks!

Hello! I am so glad you sent this message. first of all, I'm sorry I took so long to answer. Second, I support you 1000%, and third,, I can relate!

Note: This is going to be a long response. I’ll include any links in comments or reblogs.

Some people find it helps to write short stories. You could try writing a collection of them! But this post is going to be about a particular structure that I’ve been finding helpful.

Lately, I’ve actually been writing in fragments because it’s all I can do right now. I’m making it very easy for myself. I write down an idea or scene, which might be one or two sentences. Then it’s done. Then, I move on to the next section. I don’t worry about it “making sense” or being linear. I don’t have time or energy to worry about that now. I just want to write. So, I’ve found that fragments work.

the fragmented novel

We’re all busy, we’re all tired, we’re all out of creative energy. Sometimes we just need a small dose of fluff or serotonin or inspiration. Despite being bare, you can still find those in fragmented novels.

You might want to try reading some! These types of stories are definitely not for everyone and tend to be more on the niche side, but yes, they exist. They are a thing! They often require the reader to fill in the blanks themselves and make their own sense of what little is given. Personally, I think that’s fun!

Okay, so I admit I'm not sure about the "randomly" part but I know that although fragmented novels are often "seemingly" random, they often have a theme tying everything together. The closest thing to random I can think of is a person's diary, but even that will have some recurring ideas. But! I believe there’s no One Right Way to write a novel. Try it and see what happens!

a few examples

Last month I made a mini post featuring Dorthe Nors's Minna Needs Rehearsal Space and Days, both of which can be found in So Much For That Winter.

But recently I've been skimming through Mary Robison's novels, admittedly as a way to possibly boost my own confidence and gain a sense of reassurance. I don't know if how she writes is what you're looking for, but those who are familiar with her writing know her for her wit and minimalism. Her works have been described in reviews as having "minimalist yet mind-expanding prose", as being "jumpy" and "sharply delineated", as well as "witty and cutting, albeit undeniably weird."

Here's a review that I really like, of her novel Why Did I Ever? (which might be my favourite of hers):

(bolded font by me)

"Among so much modern writing these days trying to find a way to explain our situation as plush but dire, free but under surveillance, exhausted but ADD, Robison's fiercely offhand banter cuts through any possible cavity of bullshit, kills its own bloat before it even has time to turn into a scene... . Each passage assumes the feel of veracity of idea over unnecessary execution, as if we are being shown the tools that build a universe rather than the universe itself. There are people, places, time periods; these things each have their personalities, moods; each of the resonances stick out like the sharp part of a long passage that you waited to be paid off by for your effort. Everything is treasure. And by the sheer mass of its weight in such small space, the reader is forced to slow down, to hear the lines again inside her head instead of only on the page, and to parse what those lines might be trying to communicate, if anything."

- Blake Butler, Vice

Mary Robison has other novels, some of them being short story collections, but the ones that I think are most fragment-y (at least in structure) are:

One D.O.A., One on the Way

Why Did I Ever?

Oh! *

I don’t know if the genre or plots are your thing, but you might just wanna check out the structure — the way the text is presented.

* not quite fragments like the first two but has short chapters

Below are some screenshots I took of Why Did I Ever? (top) and One DOA, One OTW (bottom)

Notice how one section in One DOA is even written in bullet points. Isn't that fun?

[rosesisupposes]

Hey I saw you were offering fluff and I'm a hoe for Prinxiety, only if you feel motivated too though! Love your writing xxx

So, this may not be what you meant, but… I watched The Unicorn Store the other day and I loved it, and one of the characters’ names was literally Virgil. So in a slight mix-and-matched fashion, here’s that :D

The Store

Pairings: Prinxiety, Moceit (Paternal Royality, Paternal Roceit); brief moment of analogical if you squint.

Warnings: Self-doubt, reference to possible hallucinations; reference to abuse and miscarriage; also, minimal editing

Word Count: much longer than intended 4,434 words

Read on ao3

Roman, dearest Roman, grew up with a deep love for unicorns, and rainbows, and all things glitter. His imagination let him have wild and beautiful adventures with his pet unicorn. His name was Steve.

He drew him, over and over, hoping that if he just nailed it perfectly, his parents would understand, and finally see himBut while Pat and Dee indulged his stories and encouraged his art, it was clear they’d never really understand.

They did send him to art school though

He wanted to love it, wanted to meet all those people who thought like him, who saw the world like him

Unfortunately what he found was a mentor who’s best-known work was a photography series called Stick in a Box

In the final evaluation, they were asked to make a self-portrait

Roman’s classmates had beautifully composed but tiny charcoal drawings of themselves, lined up in neat 8.5x11 boxes

Roman’s drawing was technically perfect, too. But it was a charcoal of a unicorn on a hill, surrounded with stripes of purple, yellow, pink, green, red that stretched off the box, off the canvas, and onto the wall itself. As a final touch, he said a wish to himself and blew on glitter

Unfortunately, his mentor was… unimpressed. And Roman became an art school dropout, back in his dads’ house, shifted to the basement because his room had become a home gym

His dads were still supportive, though. They knew he’d bounce back. But it didn’t always help when they’d talk about “now that you’ve tried that” and “finding a new path”

Also, they kept bringing over their neighbor, Emile, who was Roman’s age. Emile has just started working with them at their retreat service for troubled and at-risk teens. And it’s not that Roman didn’t like Emile, it just felt like… they were prouder of him than their son the failure.

Okay, maybe Roman did dislike Emile.

So in a fit of… jealousy? Desperation? Roman announces he’s joining a temp agency. He’s going to have an office job. So, Dad, Papa, please make sure to purchase plenty of pens and graph paper as he will need them now. He even borrows Pat’s old office clothes. A bit outdated perhaps, but he’s professional now.

He starts at the ad agency/communications firm and damn does he look the part, he’s sure. Even if his work is boring. Even if the people are very caught up in very small concerns.

In the middle of the very, very beige cubicles, and the very, very dull conversations, Roman finds a letter. It has his name on it, spelled in glitter and rhinestones. And it invites him to The Store.

But he’s… he’s being professional now. He’s a businessman. He doesn’t care about frivolity like glitter. Right?

When the second letter arrives, still with his name, still with the same address, still with no signature… well, it might not be smart but he can’t help it

He goes to the address to find a lone, flickering neon sign that says The Store. He walks in to an elevator that has no buttons, but descends on its own. He walks through a pink-lit hallway to a curtain of rainbows, and finally emerges into a grand old room that’s been…. transformed. 

On one side: a gate closes off a clear space. On the other: several grand tables are arranged with fruit and hay bales. The back wall has a long bar and freezers of ice cream. And in the middle, a man stands with a slight smile and adjusts his bright purple tie and the shiny satin matching suit jacket.

“Welcome, Roman!”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been expecting you, of course. Though you are late, by several days. It’s rather impolite not to respond to an invitation immediately, you know.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s the Store. And I am the Salesman.” Roman notices what definitely looks like long strings of tinsel in the man’s dark hair.

“What kind of store?”

“The kind that sells  that and only that which you need”

“Which is?”

“Roman, don’t be ridiculous. You know what it is. You’ve known your whole life.”

The Salesman flicks on the huge screen above the door. Footage of graceful horses under rainbows, horses in meadows, horses sleeping… except they all have a beautiful, spiral horn in their foreheads.

“Unicorns?! You have real, actual unicorns?”

“Yes we do. And I contacted you specifically to make you this offer: we have a unicorn, just for you.”

Roman starts to tear up.  "Really? You do? For me? I was right, all this time? Oh my goodness, can i see her? Him? Them? Do unicorns have genders?“

“They do, if they want them. Yours isn’t here yet: you need to prove you’ll take good care of them first. A unicorn isn’t just a pet, you know. They’re a commitment. They will love you forever. Can you keep one safe forever?”

“I think I can,” Roman responds, though he’s still jittery and very glittery.

“Excellent! Here’s the first requirement, then,” the Salesman responds. He pulls out a shiny folder.  In it is a description of “Sheltering and Feeding Your Unicorn”

“Do you have space to accommodate a unicorn? Can you feed one? To qualify for unicorn ownership, you must first demonstrate that you’re able to provide for them.”

Roman thinks of his basement room with a wince. “Uh, not yet. But I will!”

“And can you demonstrate that you’re stably employed, able to continue providing?”

“I will do that too.”

He heads off in a whirlwind of giddy and righteous energy. He’s getting a unicorn. He’ll do whatever it takes!

First stop is the hardware store. He finds a man in the lumber section.

“Hello good sir! I am in the market for lumber.”

“Whatcha building.”

“A stable.”

“How big’s the horse?”

“Uh, not quite a horse, but um. Bigger than a pony, but you know, they can probably become whatever size I need them to be. Um, just your average small horse, I suppose?”

“Where you buildin’ it?”

“My bedroom”

The man stares, then picks up his radio. “Virgil, please report to the lumber department.”

“Will he be able to help me?”

The man doesn’t answer, just rolls his eyes and walks off

Roman wanders until he finds the worker with the nametag “Virgil”

“So, are you the builder?”

“Uh, what?”

“The man said you could help me.”

“Yeahhh, he definitely just said that to fuck with me. I’m not really a carpenter, I just do stock.”

“Well, you know more about it than me! Maybe you could try?”

Virgil stares down at Roman earnest smile, then finally sighs. “I mean, I’m gonna get paid, right? Might as well.”

He’s then the first to point out that Roman’s… ‘pony’ won’t want to live in his basement.

But in the backyard, there’s the slightly-rotted ruins of Roman’s childhood castle. It’s not structurally sound, but the space is good. And maybe some of the wood is salvageable. Roman starts kicking in the walls for good measure, and Virgil, with a strange fascination bordering on entertainment, joins in at his urging.

The hardest part is keeping his parents from asking about Virgil’s visits. Roman is very tired of being reminded that among his many failings, he doesn’t even have a partner. And the eagerness with which Dad and Papa ask about the ‘young man’’ who keeps visiting kinda makes it obvious they hope that’s why. In Pat and Dee’s defense, they’re not trying to be pushy. They just saw the conspiratorial smiles Roman kept flashing Virgil, and the bemused but amused smiles Virgil returned.

But Roman’s getting a unicorn. Who needs a boyfriend when the unicorn will love him more than any human ever could or has.

Roman returns to The Store. “I’m building a stable, and I have an appointment to go buy hay. What’s next?”

“Ah, good. Now that you’re building a home worthy of a unicorn, you need to ensure the full environment is appropriate. Here, hold this.”

The Salesman hands Roman a spiraled cone. It feels like ivory, but is far too heavy.

“Is this…?”

“Yes, a horn. They’re fragile creatures, but the weight of caring from one is all too real. Will your unicorn be surrounded by support and love? Is there a healthy family environment for them to come home to?”

Roman realizes that he’s not been on… particularly good terms with his dads. And it’s probably not all their fault. So he volunteers to join a weekend retreat: rafting and camping with the kids. And Dad, and Papa. And Emile

If there’s one thing Roman can say for Emile, it’s that he’s a really great trier. He’s not particularly good at paddling. He volunteers to pitch a tent on his own and…. Well. It got up eventually.

Roman’s helping two of the teens assemble their own tent when Pat calls out to get ready for Truth Circle. The girls snort  under their breath but call back to say they’re coming. 

“What’s truth circle?”

“Ugh, it’s so lame. It’s going around and sharing and they want it to be some deep shit. But I make up something every time and they can’t tell.”

True to her word, the young woman, sitting around the campfire, tells a tearful story of how her mom cut up all her tube tops and she just misses them, so much. A young man says he’s "so tired of assumptions just because i like loud music, and like knives, doesn’t mean i’m gonna attack my English teacher! I like my English teacher." 

To each pronouncement, Pat and Dee nod seriously, occasionally offering "Thank you” and “Good share”

Roman just feels worse and worse, knowing that all of these kids are probably laughing at his dads on the inside, so when they ask if he’d like to share anything…

“I’ve been working really hard lately, trying to improve my life,” he starts, and Pat and Dee are beaming, holding hands. “I really want to make it all worth it, you know? Because growing up, people kept wanting to not play with me, and every birthday I wished for the same thing: someone to love me, unconditionally. And I know I’ve been flighty, and selfish, but I’m finally at a turning point where all my hard work feels worth it. And It’s because I’m finally about to get the one thing I’ve always wanted: a unicorn.”

His dads’ faces drop. “Uh, kiddos, we’re gonna have a quick lil mini family circle over here, okay? Emile, you want to lead some campfire songs?”

Pat is the first to speak. "Ro, I was so happy when you told us you wanted to come, but this is just rude. This weekend is for the kids, why can’t you pretend to take it seriously?”

Dee puts a calming hand on Pat’s shoulder. “Roro, your dad’s right. If you wanted to make jabs at us for not getting you a puppy, you could have done that at home.”

Roman tries to explain. “No, I mean it, I’m working on getting one. I’m making a good home for it and everything. I wouldn’t lie about this!”

“Oh, and you didn’t lie about 'Steve’ eating all the cotton candy all those years?”

“That doesn’t count, I was a child!”

“And yet you’re still acting like one”

Roman is practically crying with frustration. “You know they’re the ones lying, right?” he whisper-screams. “All those kids. Just making up whatever bullshit they think you’ll accept. And I sit here, actually telling the truth, and you don’t believe me!”

Dee sighs. “We know they lie, Ro. Of course they do. Her mom beats her,” he gestures with his head to a girl. “His father passed away suddenly. Xe had a miscarriage. They just got out of an emotionally abusive relationship. They all lie, outrageously, and then suddenly one day they’re telling the truth because they trust that now no one will believe them when they’re actually vulnerable. But we know, and we’re there when they do.”

“Is that the problem?” Pat asks softly. “Were we just bad enough parents that you’re doing the same thing to us?”

“No, of course not!” Roman insists. He’s properly crying now. “I’m trying to tell you…” He trails off, seeing their disbelief. “Fine. I’ll just… go. You guys can adopt Emile instead.”

In the background, Emile pops his head up. “Did someone call me?”

All three shout back, “NO!”

Roman stares at his dads for another moment, helplessly, then stomps off.

He fucked up. Now there won’t be a loving family environment. Now he’ll never get his unicorn.

He gets home and glares at the rainbows and Care Bears and streamers in his room, then starts bagging them up. All of them. All of the old drawings, and paints, and especially the glitter. Plus the hay he’d lovingly dyed rainbow, and the huge amount of carrots.

He throws them all in bags and goes to toss them in the backyard, when he can no longer hold it back and starts to cry. All these hopes he’d been building. All his childhood dreams coming true. All for nothing.

He hides in the grey basement all weekend, staring at the dumb assignment about a dumb vacuum for his dumb job. He was urged to make a pitch for the ad campaign, unless he wants to stay a temp forever. And even if he can’t get his unicorn, he’d like to create something again. But a vacuum? a “mystic” vacuum? What even is that.

On Sunday afternoon, he hears power tools from the backyard, and drags himself outside to tell Virgil he can stop working on the dumb stable now. But Virgil hasn’t just finished the stable. He’s decorated. 

And it is an explosion of color.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” he breathes, looking at all the rainbows painted up and down the walls. Drawings are pasted all around, with strings of tinsel everywhere. “Are these… my drawings?”

“Uh, yeah, you put all the materials out here, isn’t that why?”

“Did I put all these in those bags?”

“Well, no- your dads saw what I was doing and brought out their favorites of your art to add”

“They… like my art? But it’s all the unicorns, I thought…”

He brushes away a tear. His original drawing of Steve is here, a big red heart with a very spiky stick figure. And so is his high school masterpiece, a photorealistic unicorn rearing in the sunset.

Virgil scuffs a sneaker against the ground. Like the stable, he’s a little technicolor, splats of paint on his pants and shoes and face. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?”

“I… you made an art show of me. Of all I’ve done over the years. And you didn’t give up on this ridiculous project. Thank you, Virgil. I love it.” He stares, and suddenly grins. “Hey, any chance there’s some glitter left over? I have an idea.”

He prepares a gorgeous, glitter-filled presentation for the damn vacuum, and even makes it a demonstration of how well it works in one go. It’s the Mystic Vacuum. It’s dreams coming true. It’s an experience. 

But the working world does not care if employees are going through a coming-of-age realization. Cubicles are immune to your thinking-outside-the-box thinking. The 'safe’ presentation of terribly restricted gender norms gets the ad.

He comes home, a little crushed, but Pat’s there waiting for him.

“Papa, I fucked up. Again. I just… really suck at being a grown-up”

“Did you go for it, though? Did you try?”

“..yeah”

“Did you care about doing it?”

“…yeah”

“Then you’re doing great, kiddo. The most grown-up thing you can do is fail at something you care about.”

Roman sniffs, and hugs Patton tightly. “Thanks, Pop Star”

“Now, do you want to hear what Emile did?”

Roman struggles for a moment. “I’m trying very hard to be grown-up, but I really don’t.”

“No trust me. You do.”

Roman eyes him warily.

"When we were coming back from the campsite, he got tangled up in his own life jacket. And fell into the water because of it.”

“…really?”

“Mmmhmm. And… I may have taken longer than I should have to get him out because I had to not be laughing when I pulled him back into the boat.”

Roman chuckles, then laughs, and Pat’s laughing too.

And suddenly, Roman notices something.

“What are those on the wall? Are those my paintings?”

“Oh those? Yesirree!”

“Did you just put them up?”

“Of course not. They’ve been up since you sent them home in freshman year, sweetie.”

“…you didn’t help Virgil just because you felt bad?”

“Oh honey, no. We’ve always loved your art.” Patton ruffles his hair. “We just want you to be happy.”

Thanks to Pat, Roman shakes off his setback, and when he sees a call from Virgil, he picks up eagerly. They go out for dinner, Roman still in his glitter from the presentation. And it is… wonderful. Virgil is sarcastic and witty, and only ever seems to mock Roman with the same level of skepticism he gives literally everyone else.

Until he finally asks, “So, now that it’s done, when are you getting the pony?That’s the big secret, right, you’re actually buying a pony?" 

And Roman smiles and says, "Almost.”

“You see, I’m getting a unicorn.”

And Virgil stares a moment. Then he cracks a smile. “Cute, I get it. Like the pictures.”

“No, for real!” Roman tells him. “I’ve been working on this so that I can get a unicorn. I mean, I don’t know if I’m back in the running, but I think I fixed the family environment too so, hopefully.”

And now Virgil goes still. He’s concerned. 

“Um. So, where is this unicorn coming from?”

“The Unicorn Store,” Roman responds matter-of-factly.

“Uh-huh,” Virgil nods slowly. “And that’s definitely a real place.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there several times. It’s lovely, and the Salesman is wild.”

Virgil’s eyes are a little bit bugging out of his head now. "The Salesman?”

“Yeah, he gave me the steps I need to get my unicorn. Place to live, nice environment, prove i can support them, you know. Like pet adoption, but better.”

“You gave him your financial information? Ro, I know you’re really excited but… this sounds like a scam.”

“Why does no one believe me? It’s real, I swear. There’s even a hay-staurant.”

“…you say you’ve been there? Can I come see?”

“I don’t see why not”

But when they get there, nothing seems right. The entryway sign is gone. The elevator still moves, but it doesn’t open to a pink hallway. And in the room… the decorations are gone. The Salesman isn’t there. The screen is missing. And Roman… starts to doubt. Virgil isn’t surprised, but he’s worried. Roman looks so heartbroken… did he really believe in this? A grown man, thinking he’d actually get a unicorn?

“Ro, we should go. If you need help making sure that guy hasn’t used your info to, I don’t know, buy random things, withdrawing money… I can help.”

“No,” Roman insists. “No, he’ll be back. I’ll stay.”

“Roman, c'mon, don’t do this…”

“I know what I saw!” he shouts. “It was real!”

“I don’t doubt he did a great job with the showmanship, Ro. I believe you. But he’s clearly gone now, and… it might be time to assume he’s not coming back.”

Roman doesn’t turn, and Virgil sighs. He keeps hoping Roman will relent, but if there’s one thing he’s already learned about this man, it’s that he’s stubborn. So he leaves alone. And Roman waits until he hears the elevator leave to break down.

Virgil, walking out, feels something in his shoe. He checks - it’s hay. Rainbow hay. But he expected that - it was a scam, right? A well-done scam. He walks on.

Roman goes home and finds himself just sitting in the stable, dejectedly. It’s so lovely, and it made him so happy but… He knew he was a daydreamer. Had he really fallen for such a ridiculous thing?

Dee and Pat find him together, and sit with him in the stable. 

“It’s really well built,” Pat comments.

“And your art is lovely,” Dee says, fondly tracing a unicorn horn on the wall.

Roman sniffs. “It’s just a catalog of mania at this point. My slow descent into madness.”

Dee hugs him around the shoulders. “Roberry, you’re not crazy. You have a spark that is just… so unique. No one could hope to match the way you view the world. Hell, even I can’t. Neither can your Papa. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means we’re just limited.”

“Is this some of that feel-d trip stuff you tell the troubled teens?”

Dee grins. “Nah, they never believe the sappy shit. This is just for you.”

Roman wipes his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

Dee and Pat object in one voice. 

Dee continues, “Hun, you are so loved. By us, by the people who meet you… You’re joy, Roman. You remind people of joy.”

“And that boy seems to really like you, too.”

Roman groans. “He definitely thinks I’m crazy.”

“Give him a chance, okay?” Pat asks, patting Roman’s shoulder. “He might surprise you.”

“He built this, didn’t he?” Dee asks, gesturing around. “He’s gotta like you at least a little.”

The next day, Roman goes back to the hardware store, looking for him. He searches every department, and all the back rooms he can sneak into, but nothing. No Virgil. He ends up sitting in the backyard, glaring at the stable, but still… hoping.

He’s interrupted one day by a very tentative knock on the back gate. And Virgil comes out, looking sheepish. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear…”

“I was looking for you at the hardware store?”

“I got transferred, actually. Turns out having a full construction project to my name means your boy got promoted. I’m… sorry, about the store. I shouldn’t have left you so abruptly.”

“It’s okay. And congrats.”

Virgil sits in the stable next to Roman, and smiles when Roman leans over on his shoulder.

He’s about to suggest they get coffee when Roman’s phone starts ringing.

“Hello?”

“Congratulations, Roman! He’s arrived!”

“Who is this? Who’s arrived?”

“The Salesman, of course. And your unicorn. He is here in the store, waiting for you.”

Virgil stares at the phone. “That’s him?” he mutters. “Here, if he’s a scammer, let me talk to him, okay?”

“I… you’re sure? He’s there?” Roman asks. His heart is in his throat. What if it really all had been true? What if Virgil scares him away? “I came by, and you were gone…”

“We don’t set up the full store for just anyone, Roman. It’s not for him. It’s just for you. But you need to let me know if you’re serious about this unicorn. If you don’t want him, there’s a woman who’s qualified who needs him just as much.”

“I’m coming!” Roman interjects. “Don’t give him away, please! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

He jumps up and is practically sprinting to the car, Virgil barely able to keep up. 

“Roman, can I at least come with?”

“Yes, sure, just don’t tell me not to go,” Roman says, practically vibrating with excitement.

The decorations aren’t fully back, but the sign outside is, at least. They descend through the elevator, and this time… the hall isn’t empty.

“Ah, Roman! You made it! And I see you brought… a companion,” the Salesman says, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. “He will, of course, have to stay out here while you meet him.”

“He’s really here?” Roman asks breathlessly. “My…?”

“Your unicorn, yes. I called you to say so, did I not? He’s right through those doors.”

“And I can meet him?”

“Yes, of course. You don’t have to take him home - as I said, another woman also needs him if you don’t want to anymore”

Virgil outright staring at the Salesman’s outfit. It’s blue today, all satin and rhinestones and tinsel. But still with a nicely-tied tie. The Salesman looks back, and adjusts his glasses. “Salutations.”

Roman approaches the doorway slowly, and eases it open. Rainbows spill out as he walks in, letting the door close behind him.

He is…. beautiful.

He’s there, in real life. A huge, graceful horse with a pearl horn and a shimmery mane. He wickers at Roman’s approach.

“Hi,” Roman breathes. “You’re… oh my god, you’re here. It’s Mr. Unicorn, right? Do you care?”

The creature nods.

Roman feels tears rolling down his cheeks as he reaches out a gentle hand to caress the beautiful thing’s nose.

“I’ve waited for you for so long. I wished for you every birthday. I would close my eyes and think 'send me someone to love me, unconditionally, for me.’" He smiles wetly. "I called you Steve.”

“And I…  I worried so badly that you weren’t real, because I needed you to be real. I needed you to really, really love me. But…” Roman looks into a pair of soft brown eyes, huge and understanding. They feel… familiar. 

“But I can’t bring you home with me. Because there’s a woman out there who needs you more than I do. And you are going to love her, okay? You’re going to love her and support her, and never judge her dreams. You’re going to make sure she knows you love her. And… and you make sure she never feels alone, okay?”

The unicorn nods, and nuzzles Roman’s chest. He wipes his eyes. “I’m going to hug you now, is that okay?” Another nod.

Roman throws his arms around the equine neck, breathing in the strange mix of lavender and sugar and sunlight that is the unicorn’s scent. A hair from the mane gets stuck to him, and easily breaks off. He tries to give it back, but the unicorn shakes his head. A memento. Just for him.

He turns to go, and sees the Salesman has entered, and brought Virgil with him. Virgil is staring, open-mouthed.

“Mr. The Salesman- I can’t take him. Please give him to the woman you mentioned, okay? She earned it, right?”

“She did. And since you no longer are a client, you can just call me Logan.”

Roman wipes his eyes, but holds tight to the single hair. “As long as he’s happy.”

“Will you be?” Logan asks. His face doesn’t betray any emotion.

Roman walks to Virgil’s side, and takes his hand. “Yeah, I think I will.”

fin

taglist:  @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice  @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed

[lokilickedme]

*waves hand wildly* Hi, I've missed you. I've been missing pretty much everyone. Since last year I've been working seven days a week, only the weekends are full time but it's still up before 6 every day and I'm tired. Just to add to the fun hubby got a stress fracture on the leg that just healed from the surgery so he's out of work. I jump on whenever I can but my interaction have been minimal :( Mostly when I have a free minute I lose myself in fanfics (just read Body Double again, love it)

Hey!!  I was literally thinking of you when I typed that last line in my post about missing some faces lately :D  So good to see you!

You sound too busy, stop that.  Does the planet even work prior to 8 a.m.?  Are there like lights and stuff?  Oxygen is turned on and there’s gravity?  I have worked plenty of nights in my life but being up early has never been a thing for me.  If I’m up at 6 it’s because I never went to bed :P

I hope your hub heals up again quickly and you get to slow down a bit, it sounds like you’re running on all cylinders and about ready to throw a gasket.  Take care of yourself!  Oh and I didn’t know you were a Body Double fan - you might be happy to know that I’m eventually going to edit it (to remove names/movie titles/studio references/film story references etc) and publish it, after I’m done with Chemical and the two that are in line after it.  I don’t really know why, since I don’t even like that story lol...but hey, someone asked me to and for some reason I said yes.  I gotta stop that.

Anyway, thank you for saying hi!  It’s good to see you!  MISS YOU!!

@sweetsigyn

[bluethespiai]

I posted 8,443 times in 2022

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I tagged 8,232 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#doctor who - 884 posts

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Longest Tag: 131 characters

#it's late i was working and i'm tired so this is minimally edited and i can't remember what museum gift shops sell but done is done

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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#3

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#2

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My #1 post of 2022

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[thebibliosphere]

Hey mom let's say I'm a writer and let's say I wanted to hire a freelance editor and let's say I wanted to be Mr. Fuck Your Rate I'mma Pay You Way More Because You Deserve It --- what do you consider a fair/ideal rate for editing work?

It really depends on what kind of editing work you are engaging them for. Is it a proof and grammar only? Or do you want copy edit and feedback? Or do you want to engage them for a process of all of the above?

Some editors will list their fees per how many words they edit, and some houses will even pay their editors per word, but I have found this system to be utterly, utterly shitty for everyone involved who is not at the top taking a huge cut. 

I’ve spent maybe a month working on something which was 100k words, and the author had to pay a premium rate in the thousands, but I did minimal work to it like fixing a few errors here and there.

I’ve also spent a month working on something that was less than 10k words, but only got paid the going rate for 10k, regardless of the fact that it needed so much work I couldn’t take on any other projects during that time.

This is why I now list myself as per hour, not per word, and request people send me their file/manuscript in full first so I can read through it and determine how much work it will need, rather than offering a blind estimate per word count. In my FAQ I have it listed as a $50 reading fee once the manuscript goes over 10k words ($100 if it’s a 100k+ manuscript), but I’ve been so desperate lately I’ve actually lowered it to $25.

The rates I am currently charging are $25 per hour for anything under 10k, and $50 for anything over that. That’s my rate for copy edit, and it’s half what my rate for copy edit was in house. 

If you’re only wanting proof reading for minor fixes, I’m only taking $25 per hour (provided it wasn’t a total nightmare on the read through), though I have gone lower if it’s been something really short and I know it’s not even going to take me the full hour to work on. Basically I try to make it as fair an exchange for both of us as possible. I know most of the people trying to engage me for work are broke, I know most of them are college students or in a similar situation to mine, but I am also trying to not drastically undersell my work either because I also need to eat.

So if you take the idea at the moment that a living wage, and I mean a basic “you’re able to make ends meet without killing yourself working 60 hours a week” wage, is $15 an hour, you’re probably looking at paying someone a minimum of $20+ per hour for the time as an editor at a base rate. That is, if you want to pay them fairly, and even then I have some editor friends on here who are likely hissing between their teeth at me for low balling it.

But like I said, there’s a lot of work out there being sold for significantly less than that, and it’s killing us, it really is. I had an email this week from a freelance site from a client wanting me to rewrite his entire 100k manuscript for $150 and he thought that was “more than fair”. When I told him it wasn’t and I would not take on something of that size for anything less than $500 at a minimum, he went off on one about how there are other editors out there just desperate for work. And that’s the problem. 

Also, just throwing this out there, if an editor hits you with a quote and you think “wow, I can’t afford that, guess I’ll not bother...” ask them about payment plans. If this is a project we will likely be working with you on for several months—and if it’s long we likely will be—some of us are more than happy to accept monthly installments. We’d rather have secure reliable work and take our time helping you to create the best damn thing that you can, than have no work at all. 

And we want to work, we want to help people make awesome things, we want to see you get published and become successful because then that means you’ll write more which means we’ll get more work and do you see where this happy little cycle of productivity is going? I hope so. I really do, because the way current freelancing and editing work is set up, it’s helping no one. 

Anyway, I hope that is helpful and answered some questions. If not, sorry, I’m tired and heading to bed. I hope when I read this in the morning it’s not just an incoherent ramble but who knows, maybe I made some sense.