#just writing a lot of filler for now in the au while my brain tries to work on storyline ideas

[garpen]

No, I don't think I will be adding any context at this time. Thanks.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 1: Logince

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 1: Your soulmate’s name is on your wrist.

Content: Flower/Tattoo Shop AU, background character death (unspecified cause, none of the sides), that’s pretty much it, it’s just soft Logince.

Word count: 2.7k

A small ding from the store entrance pulled Roman out of his thoughts, and he groaned softly. It was nearing the end of his shift, almost closing time, and another customer at this time would probably mean he was staying after hours again. All he wanted to do was go home and watch cheap reality TV in his sweatpants while shoveling handfuls of hot cheetos into his mouth. So sue him, it had been a long day. But nooo. Someone else had just walked in, probably someone with a very specific style that was out of season and they would argue for half an hour, no matter how many times he explained that tulips aren’t blooming right now, Vanessa! 

Sure, usually his customers were great. Nervous first anniversaries, eccentric brides, all that romance stuff. He loved it. And they were usually all too willing to give him a budget and a color scheme and let him go wild, which was the best part about his job. He was good at it, too. His boss had seen his eye for style and almost immediately gave him solo shifts, which meant decently good pay and hours alone to belt out songs amongst the flowers and daydream to his heart’s content. It was a small enough business that the only mandatory part of his outfit was a green apron, so he could wear whatever he wanted, and he didn’t need a pesky nametag. Those had always weirded him out just a bit. So yeah, he loved his job, but right now, he knew himself too well. He had awful luck. 

With a forced customer service grin, he poked out of the backroom and began his usual spiel of, “Thanks for coming to The Rainbow Bouquet, what can I get started…” 

His words died in his throat at the mere sight of the man before him. Never had he been so equally attracted and frightened at the same time.

He was tall, probably just taller than him, but he held himself in a way that made Roman feel miniscule. Both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, the left one a flurried mix of black and white and color, beautiful strips of pink and blue galaxies blending with grayscale skulls and clocks. The other had more order; shadows of a forest growing from around his wrist, shimmering mist curling up over his bicep and ending with a full moon stamped on his shoulder like a crest. A corner of something peaked up around the collar of his torn vest, and if Roman had to guess, there were most likely plenty more tattoos that were covered by his ripped black jeans and blue Nasa shirt. Not that his mind was going there at all, no siree. 

Once Roman’s brain had screeched to a halt back in his body, he spoke again.

“What can I get started for you today?”

The man swallowed with difficulty, taking in the rows and rows of flowers surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look in his element.

“I need an arrangement for my mother. She’s in the hospital.”

Ah, the part of the job that Roman didn’t enjoy. Probably half the orders that came in were for sick people or funerals, and those were always a lot harder to arrange. It was always hard to find joy in creating for something so dismal.

“I’m sorry to hear. Did you have anything specific in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Daisies. She likes Daisies,” He murmured, still admiring the space around him. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression. It was just a little awe inspired, a little bit of childish wonder, under that rough exterior. It was a gorgeous shop, that’s one of the reasons Roman had started working there.

“That’s good, it makes it a little easier for me to design something when I have that to go off of. Do you have a budget, or…”

He shook his head weakly, finally turning to look at Roman. “Price isn’t an issue. This is one of the last things I’m going to be able to give her.”

“Oh,” Roman whispered, slowly putting down the pen he’d been writing with, “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be changed. There’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

“Just because it’s going to happen doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

The man narrowed his eyes, giving Roman a once over before lifting his chin slightly. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”

“Of course you don’t,” Roman quickly corrected, remembering he was still at work, “My apologies. When did you want to pick it up?”

“I’m visiting her tomorrow at noon. Could it be ready by then?”

“You bet. Can I have a name for the pick up?”

“Logan.” Roman’s pen skittered over his notepad, almost falling through his fingers. 

Having a common name on your wrist was a curse in and of itself. And poor him, the hopeless romantic that he was, had met countless “Logan’s” in his day, and consequently fallen for most of them at first introduction, only to figure out quickly that they weren’t destined for a “Roman”. As inconspicuously as possible, he tried to glance down at Logan’s wrist, only finding a mass of swirling tattoos covering his skin. Dammit. There were some people born without soulmates, or had their soulmark fade to nothingness when their person passed away, and he tried not to think too terribly hard on which one Logan was. He tampered his rush of excitement as quickly as it had arisen and turned back to his notes, ignoring Logan’s raised eyebrow at his sudden stop.

Roman scribbled down the name and phone number as it was given, setting down the notepad with a customer service smile. The man spent no time dawdling, immediately starting towards the door, only to hesitate before walking out.

“Her favorite color is yellow.”

Roman nodded, the fake smile slowly morphing into an authentic one. “I can work with that.”

It was now a week after Logan had picked up the bouquet, a somewhat awkward interaction filled with small compliments towards the arrangement and Roman nearly dropping the flowers as their fingers touched while passing it over. As he was ringing up the total, he’d been able to uphold a brief conversation where Logan revealed he was a tattoo artist (no shock, considering he showed more inked skin than plain), and Roman showed off his rose tattoo on his upper arm. It would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but no, Logan had to reach up tentatively to brush his finger along the edge of the piece, commenting off handedly about how the color had started to fade.

“How long ago did you get this done?”

“Probably ten years, give or take.”

“You’re what, mid twenties? There’s no way you were legal ten years ago.”

“Who said I was?” It was said with a small wink that made Logan pull his hand away, an action that immediately dampened Roman’s mood.

“If you ever want it touched up, come by the shop. It’s just down the road.”

Roman had promised to consider, pulling the collar of his long sleeve shirt back up over the rose and bidding the man a good visit to his mother. Even now, a full week later, he couldn’t help his thoughts that were so centered around the tattoo artist. So maybe that was why Logan walked back into the shop the following Wednesday. I simped so hard I summoned him, Roman thought weakly as the gorgeous man strode straight up to the counter, leaning on it like he owned it. 

“I have a question.”

“What’s your question?  

“A client asked me yesterday to design a tattoo for her. A bouquet, seen from the top, and all she specified was it should feature hydrangeas, and she asked me to, quote, ‘go nuts’.”

“This isn’t sounding like a question so far.”

Logan sighed apprehensively, adjusting his glasses, “I was hoping you could give me some ideas on how to start. All the tips I found online contradicted each other in some way or another, and the arrangement you created for my mother was so well done…”

He trailed off, giving Roman a look that clearly said I need your help but don’t make me ask for it. Chuckling slightly, he leaned onto the counter as well, his face inches away from Logan’s. For the first time, he could see the small piercing on the man’s tongue as he sighed again. God, that’s hot.

“I’ll help you. On one condition.” 

“Being?” 

“Help me design my next tattoo.” In full honesty, he hadn’t even considered a second tattoo until that second. 

“Deal.” There was no hesitation in his answer, and he took Roman’s offered hand, barely shaking it in the small space between them. 

“Alright!” Roman pulled back, satisfied but disappointed as their hands separated, “Let’s talk flowers!”

And talk they did. For hours, in fact. It started with Logan’s tattoo dilemma, and Roman’s skillful eye and creative mind solved that problem in a flash, crudely drawing out a bouquet idea that fit all the criteria. The tattoo artist took it from there, using the notepad paper and Roman’s sketch, along with a quick round of the shop to see what the recommended flowers, fillers, and greens would all look like, and drew out a detailed piece that put Roman’s own art talent to shame. After explaining that his shift was done at the parlor and he had the rest of the afternoon free, Roman invited Logan to stay for a while longer, seeing as his day had dragged on customer-less so far, and he was bored. Plus, now was as good a time as any to pay back the favor. Two mugs of breakroom coffee later, the two were huddled around the counter, Roman describing his ideas and Logan sketching them like there was no tomorrow. Maybe half way through the brainstorm, the conversation switched to Logan’s mother (which he talked about hesitantly), then to Roman’s family, slowly changing to the absurdity of satin couch cushions, then to their favorite foods, and finally ending with a loud debate on whether pineapple deserved to be on pizza.

“It’s a fruit, Logan! Why the hell would you put fruit on a pizza?!”

“All I’m saying is that the sweet flavor of the pineapple balances out the tanginess of the marinara sauce, and adds more to the plain crust!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Logan had to go soon after that, wanting to visit his mom before visiting hours ended. He left with a begrudging smile on his face and a promise to come back another day, drawing an ear to ear grin from Roman. He’s just a friend, he reprimanded himself sternly, all the while sliding the drawing of his next possible tattoo into his phone case with startling reverence. No use getting attached to some who wasn’t his soulmate. 

Yet, he still couldn’t help but feel saddened as a week passed again, then two, then a month. His job had returned to it’s boring normalcy, with only the flowers and no cute boy to keep him company. Even when he sat at his little desk next to the counter, hands working effortlessly to string together order after order, he couldn’t help the occasional glance at the door. The hope that his prince charming would waltz back in, piercings and ripped clothing galore, never faded. 

A month and a half later, the little chime above the door dinged, and Roman glanced up from his handful of Baby’s Breath (seriously people, there are other fillers). Immediately a huge smile pulled at his lips and he dropped the half finished bouquet onto his table.

“Logan! What took you so… long…” His expression morphed into one of worry as he took in the other’s appearance. Gone was the usual grunge attire he was so prone to wearing, replaced with a black hoodie and beaten up Vans. His eyes no longer held that dangerous glimmer that had intimidated Roman so much when they first met. He just looked… small. Logan had never looked small before.

“My mom died last month,” He whispered.

Roman was over the desk in a second, pulling the man into his arms before he could protest. It took Logan a second, a long, awkward, stiff second, before he let his arms wrap around his waist, allowing his forehead to rest on the florist’s shoulder. 

“I thought I’d be okay when she died… it was inevitable. It was her time… so why does it still hurt so bad?” The desperate whisper shattered Roman’s heart. 

“You’re allowed to feel sad, Logan.” He felt him merely shake his head in response, but he said nothing to push the topic further. 

Logan didn’t cry as they stood there, though he clung to Roman almost desperately. If he had to guess, the poor man was probably already cried out. He looked exhausted, and his unusually slumped posture only weakened more when Roman tightened his arms ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. You were probably waiting.”

“Hey, no apologizing.”

“I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Logan shrugged, still not pulling away, “I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of it. And I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me. If our few interactions were anything to go by, you were that person.”

Roman decided to ignore the blatant implication that Logan didn’t have anyone except a practical stranger to go to. They could talk about that later, if he decided to stay for a while. Roman really hoped he did. 

When the tattoo artist finally pulled out of the hug, many minutes later, he pushed his sweater paws under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t cried, but he sure was close to it. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I don’t even know your name, and I-”

“It’s okay, stop-” Roman reeled back slightly, eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “Oh… sweet Zac Efron. I never told you my name! Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“It felt too late to ask,” Logan smirked subtly despite himself, letting his hands fall back to his side.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“I am none of those things.”

Roman sighed in soft exasperation, smiling at the barely perceivable glimmer in the other’s eyes. Ah, there it is. “My name’s Roman. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

He was instantly concerned with the way Logan’s face fell into one of total shock. Shit, what did he do wrong? The fear was quickly replaced with understanding, however, as the artist’s hand drifted to his right wrist. 

“What are the chances that your wrist says my name on it?” Logan said it like he was scared to be hopeful, like a happy ending was just not imaginable for him. Roman couldn’t comprehend all the emotions he felt at one time; elation, shock, fear. He answered in a choked voice, smiling all the while. 

“One hundred percent.”

The both upturned their arms in near harmony, Roman pulling his gardening glove down to reveal the name. He squinted at Logan’s wrist, finally noticing the small writing that just barely stood out underneath a grayscale (anatomically correct) heart. No wonder he missed it before, it almost blended in with the outline. 

And then Logan did cry, but so did Roman, so it was a little more okay. He seemed more confused than anything as Roman pulled him back in, holding him even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m so unused to… well, feeling. I’m not usually like this, I believe I’m just sleep deprived and worn out from-”

“You never, ever need to be guilty for feeling, you absolute punk stereotype.” Roman pressed a long kiss to the other’s temple, letting him unwind in his arms. “We’ll work on that together. I promise.”

A muffled affirmative hum was all he got in response. He pressed another kiss to the top of Logan’s head as his crying slowed, breathing out heavily into the man’s hair. Together. That’s all that mattered.  

Peep this gorgeous art piece for this fic

[sevensided]

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

[logical-little-lies]

Coloring and Close Bonds- Agere!AU (part 42)

A/N: Hi! This is a shorter no-little-side chapter to help advance the plot. It is like, necessary to the overarching plot so...but it is cute! Platonic Virgil and Emile Rights. Anyways, the next chapter will be a filler probably focusing around little!Emile and cg!Remy, so y'all can see how I write them.

--

Of course, Emile suggested that they should hang out outside of work so that they could possibly be friends again. And the core sides didn't want to say no, so here they were, watching Disney.

They had to choose the thing that could trigger any of their headspace. It's like they knew and were purposely making it worse for them. It was a million times harder to repress your headspace when you were used to regressing whenever.

Roman silently cuddled into Virgil's side, Virgil wrapping his arm around him. "Not to be rude or anything, but are you two dating?" Remy asked. Virgil nodded, as if this fact was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Have been for a while," Roman scoffed.

"Sorry, we haven't been around to know..." Emile let Remy wrap his arm around him.

"Oh my god, you two are dating!" Patton realized.

"Obviously," Remy turned his head, kissing Emile's cheek softly. "And I'm assuming you and the nerd are too?"

"That nerd is my boyfriend," Patton defended.

This whole interaction heavily shifted the vibe from tense to romantic. They avoided regressing by constantly talking to their partner and being cute. It was just a coincidence that most of the sides paired off when the Neutral Sides weren't speaking with them.

They'd soon find out that there was one other similarity between the three of their relationships, and it wasn't a romantic one.

--

Virgil was scrolling on his phone when he heard a knock at his door. He knew that Remy and Emile were there, but he assumed they were still having their meetings. But he was proven wrong when he swung open the door to see Emile.

"Hey?" he sounded confused, subtly attempting to block his view into the bedroom due to all the baby stuff practically lying around.

"Hey! Um, I was only needed for part of the meeting...my job is a shared one, after all. Mostly there to fix conflict but there wasn't any. I was wondering if I could hang out with you until it was over?"

"Uh, sure," Virgil shrugged. He didn't dislike Emile, at all. It was just awkward, because he knew there was a point where Emile disliked him, and some part of him brain told him that those feelings were still there, and that he was only being nice because he had too.

Like he could read his anxious thoughts, Emile started to reassure him. "Me and Remy owe you a huge apology. I'm sorry that we treated you so badly when you were a dark side...we should've known to just wait until you adjusted-"

"When I first came to live here, I pushed everyone away. Including you. I treated you badly, and you got away from that." Virgil interrupted him. "But you're right, once I adjusted, everything got better. Things changed and we changed, right?"

Emile smiled. "Yeah, exactly. Apology accepted?"

"Yeah, apology accepted." Virgil smiled back at him.

"Can I come in?" Emile asked, trying to look around him.

"We can't hang out in here!" Virgil denied quickly, stepping forward and shutting his door behind him. Emile seemed shocked, and a bit hurt that he wasn't allowed, but he nodded slowly.

"You deserve privacy. We can go to the living room and do something."

Virgil nodded, following him to the commons. They both took a seat, sitting in an awkward silence until Emile attempted to start a conversation. "So...what do you like doing, Virgil?" Emile asked. Virgil thought about how to phrase his response, trying to avoid mentioning his more childish hobbies.

"I go online a lot, and I watch movies and stuff. I don't know, I just spend a lot of time with the others..." he mumbled. "You?"

"Same, mostly. I'm the therapist in the village so that's what I've been busying myself with, keeping all of Thomas's characters and figments happy and healthy. I also just spend a lot of time with Remy." Emile shrugged.

"When did you and Remy start dating? Has that been like, a long term thing or is it new?"

"Long term, I guess. We've been together for a few months," Emile tried not to go into detail here. Remy was his caregiver, and he was his, and in order to avoid mentioning that, he'd have to stick to the romantic parts of their relationship. "What about you and Roman? How did that happen?"

"Things were complicated between everyone due to the dark sides getting involved with everything, so all of us were stressed. I started spending more time with Roman and then it just kinda...happened? Logan and Patton got together just before we did..." Virgil explained. Emile smiled.

"I'm glad you guys are so happy. It's nice knowing that you guys are closer then you were before. You guys also made friends with the Dark Sides, which is cool." Emile seemed kinda tense at that, biting his lip.

"Are you- are you scared of the dark sides?" Virgil questioned.

Emile shrugged. "They're kinda mean, or at least...they were."

"They're getting better about that. I won't let them treat you or Remy badly, just don't assume that they haven't changed."

Emile nodded quickly, the two falling into silence. How come this was so awkward? "Do you have crayons and coloring books?" Emile asked.

Coloring always helped him calm down. Remy would often sit him down and have him color after throwing a fit or getting frustrated while little. It seemed like an odd punishment, but he'd calm down after a few minutes and would be able to talk to Remy about whatever happened.

He thought that maybe, if he distracted himself with coloring, talking to Virgil might be easier.

"I mean- yeah, but why?" Virgil immediately seemed skeptical, not knowing what he was planning.

"I thought it'd give us something to do besides sit in silence when we run out of things to talk about..." Emile explained. Virgil didn't know how to object that, nodding a bit.

"Okay, I'll go find them." he agreed.

He came back a few minutes later with a stack of coloring books and a box of crayons. "You guys have a lot of coloring books," Emile chuckled, moving down from the couch to the floor as Virgil cleared the coffee table, spreading out the books and setting down the box of crayons.

"There's definitely more." Virgil assured, moving to sit next to Emile on the floor.

"Why do you have so many?" he claimed a Lilo and Stitch book, flipping through it. Virgil paused, not being able to come up with words.

"Is it an anxiety thing? Because coloring helps me too," Emile suggested, after a few moments of Virgil trying to come up with an excuse. Emile realized that his question might've been a little personal.

"Y-yeah, something like that." Virgil laughed it off, picking out a book.

As they colored and gossiped, they both somewhat repressed a headspace that felt so easy to slip into. Coloring really did help the awkwardness though.

If they ran out of things to say, Emile would compliment Virgil's crayon skills and that would fade into another train of conversation. When they fell into silence, it was because they were focused on drawing, and it didn't feel weird. They remained big by talking about anything and everything. Their boyfriends, their jobs, things that have happened.

They both had to avoid any stories that involved themselves or another side being little. Little did they know, they were both hiding the same thing. Eventually they'd figure everything out, but for now, they were stuck in a loop of keeping secrets uselessly.

--

It was frustrating hiding the little part of their lives, but they eventually got used to Remy and Emile being around. The Dark Sides even hung out with them. For the first time in a long time, it really felt like all the sides were united. There were some tensions, sure.

Like Janus being jealous of Roman, due to the prince replacing him in his only sacred spot of being Virgil's caregiver.

Like Remus trying to adjust to his regression without Remy and Emile finding out,

Like everyone trying to hide this 'secret' from each other.

But overall, they were getting along well. Thomas was doing much better managing his love life when the whole Romance Committee was there to help. Virgil attended meetings now, he deserved to have a say in that too. Everyone sort of apologized to each other about the sides previously being so divided.

It was almost like the labels of Core, Dark, and Neutral didn't matter anymore. They were just technicalities, not barriers. Everything seemed to flow better when they worked together. How did they manage separately for so long?

Besides the working aspect, it just generally felt like everyone was getting closer. Awkwardness faded as they laughed and joked.

Patton almost felt like his family was getting bigger. It was getting bigger.

And after just a few more issues are resolved, and a few secrets are shared, that statement will become more and more true.

Let's see how those loose ends are tied up before we get to the end of the story...

[skzluvs]

Wish you were gay; Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Pure Fluff! Little bit of Angst

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.5 K

A/N: This is just a small filler since I’m currently working on a Felix Au! but I hope you guys really like it.

“Oh Hwang Hyunjin how much I wish you were gay

Your lack of interest it's been killing me inside

And I can’t stand another day with A growing pain inside my chest

You are cold hearted

Always living up to your title "Ice prince"

I'm the only one who knows you aren't as ruthless as you pretend to be

I have the ability to see right through your persona

But you continuously keep on pushing me away

Despite all of your attempts to avoid my feelings

I'm still here trying to make you understand that my love for you is genuine

Only if one day you were able to see that I'm here

That I've been trying to make you feel okay

As you seem to ignore all of my efforts

I wish you were gay so I could feel less miserable at your indifference”

Who’s not yours but dreams to be sincerely Y/N.

You walked through the corridor holding the little pink notebook which held the unaddressed letters as you were never able to deliver them. They were meant to say all of those unwanted thoughts that lately became loud in your head. You wondered if one day you were going to be able to say all those things to Hyunjin face to face.

Impossible, you thought as you shoved the book into your matching pastel pink backpack. You took a seat at the back of the classroom. Because you knew he liked to seat there. Where he couldn’t be bothered by the rest of the students.

You waited impatiently for his entrance. As usual he will be early because he hated the unnecessary attention. Nonetheless he already got enough for being the most popular student on the whole school.

You tapped your pencil into the desk in exasperation as you heard steps coming your way. You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile that was slowly creeping into your face. There he was wearing a simple white hoodie along with his denim jeans. Casual but still dazzling.

And the truth is that Hwang Hyunjin would make anything look good.

- Hyun...”- you tried to call him but as he walked passed you he didn’t even spared to look your way and continued his tracks to his own seat.

Your smile suddenly became a frown. It was not a novelty that you were being ignored by him but it still hurts to be treated so cruelly.

The bell rang announcing the end of the period

You tried to gather your things slowly as people ran their ways to the door excited for Lunch time. You didn’t mind staying a little longer to be alone with Hyunjin you knew how much he avoided crowds specially the ones involving frenetic students forming during lunch.

When the classroom was empty he stood up from his desk and walked with his hand on his front pockets. Always giving off that cool unapproachable vibe.

You were always mesmerized by his beauty but what attracted you was simply that stubbornness he tried so hard to maintain.

You didn’t tried to hold a conversation with him this time because you weren’t ready to be rejected twice in the span of an hour. Therefore you let him go as you watch him from behind.

After you have gotten your lunch you sat down in one of the tables that were outside the lunchroom. were everything seemed more quiet and reserved just like hyunjin liked. You knew his usual spot was just a few tables away from yours near the big blossom tree.

Pulling out your notebook you wrote

“You are colder than the winter but with a gaze that can melt

Open your heart to me and I’ll never let it freeze

Let me be the sunshine that warms your feelings up when it’s under 0 degrees”

And there he was eating his food in such a tranquil way that it even made you feel contented at the peaceful sight. Some girls approached him breaking the harmonious atmosphere.

You observed carefully as he send them death stares from disturbing him but they didn’t seemed to care as they sat down trying to caught his attention. You knew hyunjin couldn’t stand people following him and trying to talk to him just because of his popularity. So you thought about helping him even if he treated you as harshly as he treated the rest.

You made your way to the table. The girls were obnoxiously giggling and hyunjin kept on looking uncomfortably at the cold food that rested on his plate.

He was more of ignoring them than actually telling people off he acted heartless but he definitely wasn’t rude.

“Hey Ladies aren’t you supposed to have somewhere else to be” you said clearing your throat to make yourself noticed.

“Y/N don’t you have books to read go back to dreamland and mind your own business” The leader spoke, looking at you in disbelief.

Your knees shakes a little what were you doing standing up for the boy who didn’t even acknowledge your existence. It seemed stupid but you were surely not going to regret this.

“Books actually increase your intellect you should try reading some one of these days I mean there’s still lots of space in that empty head of yours” You backfired with confidence.

“ Are you trying to pick up a fight with me” she said defying me.

“certainly not, but hyunjin and I have things to discuss so I’m politely asking you all to leave”

“Hyunjin doesn’t have time to waste on someone like you Y/N stop saying nonsense and get lost”

“ Well it seems like he doesn’t want any of you here since you basically invited yourselves he’s just nice enough to not tell you that you are bothersome but I am not that nice so why don’t you go and trouble someone else’s lunch time” You smile sarcastically at them and they walked off not before telling Hyunjin they’ll talk later.

After they left silence filled out the whole entire ambience. You were about to speak but he turned his head looking the other way with his cold face. You weren’t expecting a thank you or anything but it seemed like your presence wasn’t too pleasant for hyunjin either.

knowing you were never going to be able to reach someone so highly illustrious as him you lowered your head. Thinking how stupid was for you to keep on trying you seemed like a push over that’s probably what he thinks of you YN- you said as a whisper before you pulled your bag from the table and threw it on your shoulder walking off with nothing but shame.

Back in the classroom you were writing math notes when a sudden thought came across your mind.

Today you had been ignored multiple times and you needed you pour all those sad thoughts into your confident. Scanning your bag the pink covered book was nowhere to be found and desperation was all you could feel.

You excused yourself from the classroom as you tried to search for that such important diary everywhere. At the lunchroom, at the tables, at the restroom, the hallways, your own locker everywhere.

You were about to go insane those pages held more than your immense admiration for hyunjin it held the pain of an unrequited love. If someone was to read your letters you were screwed.

What if the girls stole it and they tell hyunjin what if you become the biggest joke of the school and everyone laughs at how pathetic you truly are.

You were terrified to say the least you ran to the cherry blossom tree and slide yourself holding your knees as the tears started to fall off your face.

You felt a slight tap on your shoulder as you were Uncontrollably sobbing. You tried wiping your tears away trying to focus on the person in front of you with blurry vision you were still able to recognize his beautiful face.

“Y/N don’t cry” He said offering you a tissue.

He knew your name you were in a state of shock.

He always pretended not to see you what was he doing now.

When you calmed down a little he offered you a hand so you could stand up.

“Do you really wish I was gay?” he asked confused hiding a big authentic smile.

“What?” you asked even more confused than him until your brain clicked.

He knew

You went speechless your mouth went dry and all You wanted was crying again and hide forever the embarrassment of your worst nightmare.

“How-... I-” you said stumbling down your own words

He lifted a pastel pink covered book that he has been hiding all this time behind his back.

God you wanted to deny it all but you were into deep now. He had all the proof in his own hands.

“I don’t really think you meant it tho” he said getting closer to your face.

“You don’t really wish I was gay because if I was I wouldn’t be able to kiss you” He said almost brushing your pink lips with his own plump ones.

You closed your eyes hoping to close the proximity between them but they felt empty as he rapidly ran from you smiling

“You can kiss me if you can catch me” he said teasing me while holding the book.

I ran behind him giggling at his childish attitude.

For the first time You got to experience the real Hyunjin and You certainly couldn’t be more in love with him.

[forestwater87]

Ok this is super embarrassing but you’re one of my favorite writers in this uh.. whatever this blogosphere is so!! I wanna try and take a crack at writing my own fanfic but.. I got no idea where to even start. Any advice?

Oh man, I feel awful about this! I didn’t know my inbox had any new messages, so some of these asks have been sitting here for . . . some time. 

Anyway, first off thank you very much! Secondly, the most obvious advice is just, you know, “do it.” But that’s infinitely easier said than done. I started writing fanfic when I was around 10 years old, so overthinking it wasn’t an issue, since I thought I was the world’s greatest writer. Assuming you’re not 10 years old and as blind to the concept of literary criticism as I was . . . well, the first step is obviously getting an idea. EDIT: Holy shit, this is long. I’m gonna have to break this bad boy up with headers, like it’s a real blog post or something.

Getting Ideas/Inspiration

I don’t know if you already have something you’d like to write about or if you’re still at the “gee that looks like fun” level of fanfic ruminating, but if you’re having trouble coming up with ideas, turning to the existing fandom is a great place to start! 

1: Filling in fandom gaps: I’ve found a lot of my best fic ideas by looking through what already existed and seeing where there was something missing; when I first started writing for Camp Camp, literally only @raenbowsofficial created anything for Gwenvid -- it didn’t even have a ship name yet, and I’m pretty sure the 3 people into it were still throwing “daven” and “gavid” around as well -- so there being zero other fics for it meant that if I wanted it to exist, I’d have to be the one to write it. (That’s also nice if you’re kind of insecure, because when no one else has tried the idea you’re interested in, you have no pressure to compare it to anything else.) 

Also, you could take a popular/already existing concept and write it the way you’d like to see it, if the existing fanfics do something with the story or characters that you’re not thrilled with. That’s handy because it gives you a general blueprint to work off of in terms of tropes and broad story beats, while letting you explore something new. Obviously, don’t rip off someone else’s fic note-for-note, but being inspired by someone else is a great way to kickstart your creativity! If you do have a specific author or story that you’re using as a jumping-off point for your own writing, I would strongly recommend linking them in your author’s notes at the beginning or end of the fic, and maybe gifting the story to them! You don’t have to, since the creation is entirely your own, but it’s still always nice to acknowledge the people who inspire you the most.

2: Fandom inception. If you want to be a little more direct and literal, there’s always the option of writing fanfic of a fanfic or fanart that you really love, if there’s a universe or story idea that you like, and you want more of it. As long as you give credit and notify the original creator, I think you’d have no issues in terms of fanfic etiquette, and I imagine they’d be honored to have inspired your own writing. Fandom is a very collaborative experience, after all, and we’re all in this together! :)

3. For more general “I have a vague idea of what I want to do (the ship, or maybe a tiny plot bunny) but I’m not sure where to go with it,” my biggest recommendation is music. Especially folk indie-rock music, which is 90% angst and 100% haunting. And again, looking at fanfic/art is a great way to get inspired -- I have a tendency to put up a particularly good or emblematic piece of fanart/fic in another window when I’m working on something tricky to write, just for something to stare at when my ideas start running dry (shoutout to @doritofalls, @ellohcee, and the aforementioned RA for being my go-tos when I need to stare at something pretty to feel inspired; there are absolutely others, because this fandom is filled with absurdly talented people, but those 3 are my heroes of inspiration and if you SOMEHOW don’t already know them, fix that immediately). 

Wow, that’s a lot and it’s literally just all about getting an idea . . . which you might already have. Yikes. For the sake of people who have to scroll past this, let’s put the rest under a cut:

Fleshing Out the Idea: An Ode to Outlines

Some people are able to just sit down and write something incredible from a vague idea, and the story just builds on itself without any sort of planning or organization to guide them along the way. These people are named Cipher/Campernetics, and we hate her for being unfairly talented.

For the rest of us, outlines are essential.

My outlines tend to be insanely specific, because I’m very afraid of letting a single idea slip through the cracks, and I build on them over time as I get increasingly sure of where the story’s going. The early outlines tend to be extremely vague, with lots of “and then something happens” connecting major plot points. An example for a current WIP I’m doing right now:

(Seriously, “Julia and everything”? Future Forest is going to be so pissed at current Forest when she reaches that point and realizes she has no idea what she’s doing)

And as the story starts to take shape and a plot eventually forms -- they tend to take at least 10 chapters to materialize, but they do generally show up! One of the great things about fanfiction is that plot is largely optional, though, so no worries if you’re starting without a full story idea -- I find myself writing more and more details down, if for no other reason than that I want to make sure I remember what I was thinking when I finally get to that scene (because I have absolutely gotten to a point in a story and forgotten what I’d had planned. It sucks). Here’s an example from another fic with pretty significant spoilers if you can figure out which one it is oops:

I’d recommend keeping your outlines pretty simple, at least to start with: words and phrases, rather than whole-ass sentences like the above. The complexity will develop as your ideas do, so no need to wrack your brain trying to write out the entire story in bullet form.

I use the bolded ideas as stepping stones, more or less; I’ll write out the piece of the story that each line represents, which can be as little as a sentence or as much as 4 or more chapters (RIP my most recent long-running fic), then delete that line and move on to the next. 

Bolding them isn’t necessary, but it does make it easier to differentiate at a glance what needs to be written. If you keep everything in the same hundred-page Google Doc like I do, this is very important.

Your outline doesn’t have to be well-written, and you can 100% use fillers like “and then something happens here.” I do that all the time -- again, another completely different story:

Now, the vaguer things are, the more annoyed Future You will be when it comes time to write whatever it’s bulleting -- there’s a reason I haven’t updated this fic, and it’s because I have zero idea what the everliving fuck “Pinky-and-the-Brain-ing all over the place” means -- but it’s really good for when you’re first getting started sketching out the vague outline of your fic. The more you panic trying to figure out all the twists and details at the very start, the less likely you’re ever just going to sit down and write the damn thing.

(This might be why I don’t write plot-heavy stories, to be fair. Mystery writers very well might have to have it all planned out from the get-go, and I’d recommend chatting with someone who’s a bit less “coffeeshop AU” and a bit more Agatha Christie for that kind of advice.)

Knowing When to Post

There are people that exist, who have amazing self-control, who can wait until their entire story is written and then release it in sections, at regular intervals, until the story is completed.

I am not one of these people, though I try to be with literally every single fic I’ve ever written.

Personally, I do this until I reach a point where I get stuck and need validation, and then post what I have in a giant chunk and then don’t update it for several months. This is almost universally known as the worst way to write fanfics, both in terms of getting interaction from fans and keeping readers from wanting to kill you, and if you have the ability to write the entire thing and sit on it until it’s ready to be shared, you are a hero.

Alternatively, if you can actually stick to a set schedule of writing it as you go and still update with a new chapter every X days, you are not human and I’m terrified of you, because if you find a way to weaponize this power you will rule the world.

Honestly, a good rule of thumb? Post it when you’re ready for people to read it, whether it’s done or not. Not all works will get done, and it seems mean to deny people the delicious little stub you’ve written even if you’re not going to finish it. When you’re happy with what you have -- or are so tired of looking at it that you need to post it or you’ll throw your computer out the window -- just do it and let out a sigh of relief, then either take a few days before going back to writing or just jump in immediately like a goddamn masochist.

(I have tried to get far enough ahead that I can start posting the already-written stuff on a schedule, figuring by the time I’m caught up I’ll have completed the entire story and won’t have any awkward gaps. Ahahahahahahahahaha that has never once worked.)

If you’re not certain about your writing, get a beta! The fandom is full of talented people who’d be happy to read over your work, and if the person you ask doesn’t have the time or spoons, they probably have a few ideas of other people you could reach out to. You don’t need a beta, but it always makes me feel better to have another set of eyes look over my writing before posting, and my beta always catches things I completely missed. Plus, you get a nice taste of that sweet, sweet validation we all crave.

This . . . is a bad guide. Just in general. The advice is . . . not good, and I think it’s largely useless. But I keep trying to think of useful things to add to it and coming up empty, so I hope something in here helped, and if you’d like to bounce your ideas off of someone, feel free to shoot me a message! Talking ideas over with friends is a great way to flesh them out as well, and I am happy to be anyone’s fandom friend.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 5/6: “Recovery is Nothing but a Filler Arc”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER / NEXT CHAPTER

Fic Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There’s, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

AO3 version available here.

--------

Chapter Summary: Hokuto finds the process of recovery boring. This is a snippet into this very boredom.

Chapter Wordcount: 1.7K words.

Chapter Notes: Lmao @ my shitty updating schedule (which isn't a thing to begin with). It's technically filler content, but I felt bad about not having at least some snippets into a recovery process and, of course, more pining because who doesn't like pining. I like writing with a lot of sarcasm and this fic is the perfect occasion for it lol. My goal is to actually finish Nurse Café before 2020 rolls around, so we shall see if the last chapter comes out before the new year arrives! (I doubt it, but you know, a week can be enough for this).

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

Recovery was a boring process. A necessary, absurdly boring process.

He supposed it depended on what you needed to recover from. If you only had to recover from a cold, it could be a good occasion to feel cosy: buried under the covers, a cup of hot chocolate in hand, watching some TV programs while a humidifier tried to keep your nose from clogging up… Alas, he wasn’t recovering from a cold at all and must have been in the most boring kind of recovery: the one where he wasn’t well enough to do anything interesting, but not dying enough not to be aware of how much he was wasting his time as he flopped in bed like a fish out of the water.

 At least, and yet a little to his dismay, his grandmother had insisted to watch over him when his friends couldn’t. Sure, she was out of her cast and had recovered her full mobility, but she shouldn’t have been there. He was supposed to do this thing on his own, not get babied all over again. It tasted like failure and disappointment in himself, as if the entire situation wasn’t worth being untrusting of his capabilities.

However, a major part of him was grateful for her to be such a watchful caretaker. It was his fault if he had landed there, he admitted to that fact without hesitation (albeit not without swallowing his pride in for good measure), so he could have been expected to fix his own mistake by himself like a good boy; and yet Grandma was here, tending to him each time he’d open his eyes during the day. He’d have to find a way to thank her later down the line…

 Truth be told, he was relieved that people were checking up on him. In that state of his, his body barely agreed to move out of the bed, and if it accepted, then it’d only be for short spurts of time. The festering headache raging in his skull really didn’t help in the slightest, instead profiting from his incredible vulnerability to do its thing. The more time went and the less he felt that way, usually trapped in a deep daze for most of the time, overthinking things when he was conscious enough to do that. A… fascinating time to be had in perspective, huh.

If it wasn’t Grandma, it was his friends from university. More exactly, two friends: Isara and Anzu. He had specifically for them not to tell anyone else, as he wanted to preserve a little bit of his credibility within the academic premise. It was mostly about food, medicine and cleaning stuff here and there. Before his glassy eyes, the papers on his floor finally disappeared, piling neatly on the desk as he heard conversations without participating. They made recovery less of a chore to go through.

 The only times where he didn’t feel like he was throwing his precious time of the window was when people came in and kept him intellectually awake. Day after day, for an entire week, his favourite moments were still those where Anzu was there, sitting on a chair next to him or simply minding her own business somewhere else in his flat. If his brain wasn’t too confused, she’d stay here more than Grandma and Isara, especially the second as he was permanently busy (he could swear he had heard Anzu making sure he too wasn’t overworked beyond his own mind. Isara only chuckled awkwardly at that).

He’d usually see her do things around, mostly her homework, sometimes something else. After spending almost an entire day sleeping and dazing when he wasn’t unconscious, he could finally truly watch her do things and hum some of her favourite pop songs. She was the most pleasant thing about his recovery, as he could spend some time with her without any major disturbance. He’d never admit it openly, though, because then he’d never see it get lived down.

It felt warmer whenever she was in the room too… Must have been his temperature and the awful sentiment it brought upon him.

 The first time he tried to rise out of bed, it was to help Anzu with putting away some groceries and pay her back for these, and she immediately dropped her bottle of dish soap to pin his shoulders back onto the mattress. Would have it not been such a situation, having her on top of him like that would have surely sent him into a daze; instead, Hokuto was glad to blame the sudden burn in his cheeks on what was left of his fever and shook the other ideas away. God, she did look like she was blushing as she realized how cliché their position had been, but it must have been out of embarrassment… Nothing more than that.

He did retry later in the day, after the nth nap he had taken in the last two days (at least, he thought it had been two days? He didn’t exactly have any screen to check the date on to set straight his scrambled perception of time). Once again, Anzu jumped on him, urging him not to overdo it, albeit they had come to a silent compromise: he could sit up now. It was unbelievable than even such a simple gesture still made his head spin like that. At least, it was stabilizing, so he figured his gyroscope had somewhat fixed itself. How fragile had he made himself, exactly?

 With some more patience, brought upon him by the screams of the body he couldn’t ignore much anymore and everyone’s smiles and words, he had finally reached a point where he could at least wash himself in peace and not risk opening his frontal lobe on the slippery tiles of the shower. If Grandma and Anzu still insisted to make him his food, he started biting back, albeit as hard as a new-born puppy, much to his chagrin and somewhat to Isara’s amusement.

 “I’ve never asked you about that, but I’m curious,” the latter asked him when the three of them were around his table with some fried noodles for dinner. “How in the hell did you put yourself in that situation, Hokuto? It really doesn’t resemble you to be this… careless?”

“Haven’t you asked me that before?”

“Mao has, but you may have… replied with nothing but nonsense, when he did…” Anzu chimed in, scratching her chin with an awkward smile.

He felt his embarrassment rise up in his throat again, but instead decided to clear his throat and brush it aside as much as possible.

“Things piled up, I suppose. I was making a presentation with a tight deadline and taking care of my grandmother who had broken her foot. It got out of control much more than I had anticipated.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to help then?” Isara seemed genuinely confused, or at least curious.

“Both Anzu and you were already busy, and I sincerely doubt Akehoshi would have made anything better for my grandma. Yuuki seemed busy enough as it was too, now that I think about it.”

Truth be told, Hokuto had no real answer to give and it must have felt by his two friends, considering the looks of disbelief they gave each other before realizing they’d both be late to class if they didn’t eat any faster.

 By the end of the week, life was finally back to what it should have been. It still hadn’t prevented Hokuto from disobeying doctor’s orders (he didn’t remember getting examined at any point, but if Anzu was telling him so, then it must have happened at some point…) and grabbing his laptop to write some mails here and there. Braving the headache the brightness of the screen was providing him with, he attempted explaining himself to his prof for his sudden disappearance with his presentation in hand.

Apparently, he had written nothing but gibberish, and that was more than enough to convey to the prof how unwell he had been. He guessed it was convenient, in a way…

 He made sure to thank everyone as much as possible. Unexpectedly, Grandma told him it was her mission as a grandparent to take care of him, especially after he had done so for her; and he felt too humbled to respond anything against that. Isara more or less told him the same, saying it was normal for friends to help each other and that they needed to do so anyway, that he didn’t mind. The amused smirk on this man’s lips as he said that more or less indicated that he had gotten some amusement out of the situation. As soon as he got noticed, though, Isara told him he had been worried and that it was good to see a buddy go back to normalcy. They agreed on that statement.

Still, how could he thank Anzu for all of her services? She had done a ton for him and he had no real way to get back to her on that. She had spent a lot of her precious time trying to fix his mistakes and didn’t spare her words when it came to convincing him that resting was what he truly needed and that it was okay for him not to force himself out of bed this quickly. It really didn’t help that his feelings were having a rave party in the back of his mind…

 “You don’t have to thank me or pay me back,” Anzu responded. “At least, don’t feel forced to do so. I was just happy to take care of a friend!”

The pink on her cheeks was back. Did he happen to still have some fever lingering and playing with his senses?

“I’m just glad you’re alright now. You really scared me when you collapsed like that, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“You better do! I don’t want to see that happen to you again, so I hope you’ve learnt the lesson… You’ll be fine from now on, right?”

“I should be. Thank you very much again, Anzu.”

“And you’re still welcome, it’s the third time you thank me in five minutes! Take care, okay? I’d hate to see you this sick again. See you soon!”

“See you soon.”

On that she left, her smile and her perfume leaving the premise of his previously fatigue-riddled flat. It made up for ideal circumstances to realize something: Hokuto was afraid he’d have to soon deal with a whole other kind of sickness.

[prophetparadox]

Birds of a Feather Chapter 14: Calm Before The Storm (A Prompto x OC Soulmate AU)

Chapter 13 <-/AO3/-> Chapter 15

Masterlist

Word count: 1,648

So this is probably filler for the most part, but it’s needed filler. Also ugh, why did I have another chapter I struggled with? I like being able to write good quality stories, brain! Oh well, moving on. Figured it was time to get into some backstory since this isn’t just a story about two dorks falling in love. It’s Katia’s story too, so her stuff needs to come out there. Also there’s fluff, because I’ve been waiting for fluff for too long and I deserve to add it in! Especially since shit’s gonna go down soon. Gotta give these kids a break before the angst train has to roll back into the station, you know?

Tagging: @themissimmortal, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites, @takuahijackedthetardis, @lunarlapin, and @mini-moogle-queen. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!

"Can't believe I'm finally in Altissia. After all this time, I didn't think I'd actually get here." Katia said, taking in the ocean's scent. It felt nostalgic to her.

"Don't you mean we're finally in Altissia?" She felt a hand grab her own, the warmth spreading through her, as she looked at Prompto.

"Specifics. You get what I mean, Prom." she scoffed. She couldn't believe she was actually standing here, with Prompto and the others by her side. Her original plan to surprise them here felt like ages ago now. But now she was here, though not for a wedding like she'd expected. They were here on business, they had to find Lunafreya and make sure she was okay.

"So we have to find this Wheskam guy," Gladio said. "Some place called Maagho, right?"

"That is what Cid told us." Ignis said.

"Any idea where this place is, Kat?" Prompto asked.

Katia shrugged her shoulders. "Nope, no idea."

"Why would she know anyway?" Noctis asked.

"Oh yeah, I never told you, did I? This isn't the first time I've been to Altissia."

"But I thought you've never been outside the Crown City."

"Not since my dad found me and brought me there."

"Found you? What do you mean by that?" Ignis asked.

Katia took a deep breath. She knew she'd have to spill it at some point. "Stabilis Ferrum isn't my father by blood. When I was six years old, he found me here and took me in as his daughter. He brought me to Insomnia and I never left until recently."

"If you're adopted, then what happened to your real parents?" Gladio asked.

"That's the thing. I don't know," Katia answered. "I can't remember anything before that. All I know is that I found myself here and I'd been running from something. I don't know where I came from, where my real parents are, I don't even know I got to Altissia in the first place. I've tried to remember but no luck."

"So you're not from Insomnia then?" Noctis asked.

"Who knows? Maybe I'm not," Katia said. "But it doesn't matter. My dad is my dad, regardless if I'm not his own flesh and blood. I'm a Lucian from Insomnia, no matter where I came from. I'm still me, and nothing can change that."

"Have you ever tried to find out the truth about your past?" Ignis asked.

"Nope. My dad never knew the answers and I had no way of figuring it out with no leads. As far as I'm concerned, the past isn't important. I'm living my life and that's all that matters. Besides, I don't know why, but I have this feeling that I don't want to know the truth. That if I remember anything or discover the truth, I won't like what I learn. So I'd rather stay ignorant."

"You've been pretty quiet over there, Prompto. Don't you have any questions?" Noctis asked.

"No, I knew this stuff already," Prompto said matter-of-factly. "I always knew Kat was adopted, she told me a long time ago."

"Guess that isn't much of a surprise," Noctis stepped to the front of the group. "Well, let's go find this Wheskam guy then. No point in standing around."

"But Noooooct, can't we explore the city first?" Prompto asked. "It's not like we have to go there right away, we don't even know where it is."

"We've spent enough time dawdling. We need to get to business and find Lady Lunafreya." Ignis stated.

"Awww, come on Iggy! Don't be such a downer! There's no harm in taking a look around, especially since we don't know where we're going!" Katia said.

"You know they're not gonna stop asking until we give in, right?" Gladio whispered into the advisers ear.

Ignis let out a sigh. "Fine. We can look around the city, but only for a few hours. Then we go straight back to locating the Maagho."

Katia and Prompto shot their fists in the air, letting out a simultaneous "Yes!" as they ran ahead.

"They really are perfect for each other." Noctis laughed, running after them so they wouldn't get lost.

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

Katia looked out over the water, taking in the sights of the city. It was breathtaking. She'd never had a chance to truly appreciate it all those years ago. At the time she was so confused and out of it that her surroundings never registered with her. But now here she was, the most beautiful city in all of Eos. It felt like a dream that she'd wake up from at any moment. That is, until she felt arms wrap around her from behind.

"You enjoying the view, babe?" Prompto asked. Katia felt herself melt at the new nickname. It'd only been a few days but just hearing him call her that put her in a state of bliss. It wasn't even a special nickname, but the fact it was coming from Prompto made it feel magical.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." she replied, still looking out at the gondolas passing by.

"Not as beautiful as you though." It took a moment for what he said to register, but she laughed at it all the same.

"When did you get so corny?" she asked.

"I thought that's what you're supposed to say to your girlfriend!"

"Prom, you don't have to start talking like some cheesy novel. I already love you more than anything," She left his grasp and turned around to face him. "Save that stuff for when the guys are paying attention. It's fun watching them try to deal with us acting all mushy."

Prompto snickered at the thought. "Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen Noct look so disgusted in my life!"

"And this is the same guy who complained about having to go after a bean supply." The two laughed at the memory, having a bit too much fun at their best friends expense. The laughter died down and the two just looked at each other.

"It's too bad we can't be here for longer, huh?" Prompto asked.

Katia sighed. "Yeah. I mean, it's only been a few hours and I still feel like there's so much more to see! But we have a job to do, and that's making sure Lady Lunafreya is safe."

"We should come back here someday then."

"Huh? You sure?"

"Well why wouldn't I wanna come back here with you, Kat? This place is amazing!"

"...You know, I heard they hold some kind of festival here in Altissia. The Moogle Chocobo Carnival I think it's called."

Prompto's eyes began to light up and a wide grin spread across his face. "Seriously? An entire carnival about chocobos?!" Six, he was adorable like this. It was enough to make her wonder if he loved chocobos more than her. She'd have to tease him about that later.

"Yep! I've never been myself, but they have tons of games, lots of decorations, delicious food, it's got everything! And it's all chocobo themed. Well, moogles too, but you know what I mean."

Prompto nearly jumped in place out of excitement. Something like that was sure to be the best carnival ever! He simply had to go! "That settles it! Next chance we get, I'm gonna take you here to Altissia so we can enjoy every day of that carnival!" he said, sweeping Katia up in another hug.

"But I don't even know when they hold it. It might not happen for a long time, you know."

"Don't care, we'll go to it someday! I mean, why wouldn't I want to go to a carnival about one of my favorite things and take my favorite person with me?"

Katia rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, just because I'm your soulmate can't make me your favorite person."

"It's got nothing to do with that."

"Whatever you say, my Sunshine Chocobo." Prompto wasn't the only one who could break out the nicknames. Katia felt his grip loosen as he took the moniker in. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, a content sigh escaping him.

"Kaaaaat, you're too adorable!" he whined. "It's not fair for me! How am I supposed to deal with so much cuteness?"

Katia just giggled, leaving a kiss on his cheek so his face would go red. It probably shouldn't have, considering they already made out, but it was fun to watch him get flustered nonetheless. "Hey, not my fault you find me so cute."

"Ah there you are," The two turned at Noctis' voice, seeing the other three standing there. "We gotta get going. Specs is getting all fidgety about finding that Maagho place."

"Ah well, it was fun while it lasted," Katia seperated herself from Prompto's embrace, opting to hold his hand instead. "Let's get going, honey buns!" She gave him a smirk, alerting him to play up the sappiness.

"You got it, my little sugar bear!" There was a collective groan from Noctis and Gladio. Ignis said nothing, but just shook his head in disappointment.

"Do you two have to do that?" Noctis asked.

Katia responded with a smirk of her own. "But Noct, you were the one who was pushing us to get together, weren't you? This is what you wanted, right?"

"I swear, the two of you are too much sometimes."

"You know you love us though."

The group began to walk onward, their search for Wheskam resumed. Prompto leaned over and whispered so only Katia could hear. "I'm serious about taking you to that carnival, you know."

"I figured. Let's just hope this whole Leviathan thing doesn't ruin those plans. I'm looking forward to that date and I don't wanna be let down." Despite having the thoughts of the carnival dancing in her head, Katia felt a shiver shot down her spine. She had a bad feeling that things were about to go wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.

[cryssalia]

Behind The Bars (Chapter 3)

Night in the Woods - Shelter AU

Fandom: Night in the Woods

Characters: Mae Borowski, Bea Santello, Greggory Lee, Angus Delaney, Casey Hartley (Mentioned), Selma Ann “Selmers” Forrester, Jeremy “Germ” Warton

Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort/Mystery

Rating: T

Warnings: Abuse, Character Death(s), Usage of Drugs

Word Count: 2846 Words

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night in the Woods nor the characters.

Summary: Mae’s destructive behavior has started to emerge and Bea expects it to send her on edge. But the cat’s action sometimes reminds her of her younger self... which can either be a good or bad thing.

Author’s Note: The story’s pace will go like how the game goes so expect a lot of filler and side stories in this. Credit to Fuzzinator23 for proof reading this story.

Fuzzinator23 writes his own story on AO3 too! Go check it out! http://archiveofourown.org/works/10578222/chapters/23376261

Chapter 3 - Trying Hard to Forget

“BeeeeeeBeeeee~!”

The only response she gets is a soft groan as the gator tosses and faces away from her. The cat huffs. She has been trying to shake her friend awake for a while now and she hasn’t gotten any proper reaction.

She looks around and her eyes land on the dresser. A mischievous grin plastered her face as she gets off the bed and climbs up to the top of the dresser. She carefully balances herself and faces the bed. Her brain calculates the distance as she looks at where Bea is.

She doesn’t have to think twice about it. Her tail wags, legs bend and she jumps. “Cannonball!!”

And lands on Bea’s back. Hard.

“GAH!”

Mae feels her friend trembling beneath her and looks down, tapping her head gently. “Bea~? Are you awake?” she calls.

“M-my… spine…” Bea croaks and she could feel tears running down her eyes due to the pain. The cat rolls off her back and lays down beside her. The gator groans and places her arm behind her as she pushes herself up.

Her eyes averted towards the cat next to her, gritting her teeth to see her grinning instead. “Did you… r-really have to do… that!?” Bea struggles to toss herself over so her back would be on the mattress instead and the only helpful thing Mae do is to give her space.

Bea huffs and stretches herself slowly. Her back ached but not as bad as she first felt it. She stops moving and stares at the ceiling, thinking about every bit of her life up to this point.

“You didn’t wake up when I shook you so the cannonball was the only solution!” Mae exclaims, throwing her arms in the air.

Her taller friend glares, a bit strained due to her aching back. Her eyes then search for the clock on the nightstand.

It wasn't there. Not even the lamp.

“…Mae? Where’s the clock?” she asks. Mae glances at where the gator looks and tilts her head.

“What clock?”

“My effing digital clock! It was on the night stand last night and now it’s gone along with the lamp!

At this point, Mae’s eyes avoided Bea’s but it is obvious that she’s hiding something. Bea squints her eyes and slowly moves towards the edge. Her jaws drop to see the lamp shattered on the floor and the clock beneath it.

Ignoring the pain in her back, her claw reaching out to the remains and rummaging through the broken glass to retrieve the clock. It was cracked, but still readable.

4:25AM…

She wouldn’t think dropping the clock right now is a good idea if she doesn’t know the time. Four in the morning… Four. In the. Effing. Morning!

Okay, Bea. Relax. It’s only a lamp. And the clock is fine. You don’t even use the lamp.

That’s what she tells herself.

Bea moves to the other side of the bed and gets off from there. The pain in her back finally goes away and she should get started to clean the glass.

But then, she feels paper under her feet.

“What the…?”

Paper scraps scattered on the floor like flower petals and lead to the door.

Which she didn’t notice was slightly ajar.

Oh, shit.

With a heavy gulp, she follows the trail and pushes the door open. Her tired eyes immediately shoot open; a pile of paper scraps in the lounge, scratches on the couch that made the frame visible.

“Weeee!” Mae cheers as she runs pass her and jumps into the pile. The paper scatters on the floor like leaves in the fall. The cat rolls around, letting the paper cover her body.

Bea’s grip on the door frame was so tight, she could just yank it off and crush it. Her tail wags, showing great discomfort on the sight.

What is this, a war zone?

While Mae doesn’t seem to be bothered by her taller friend’s glare, she looks up to her and tilts her head. She grins, with faint twinkles in her eyes as she tries to look cute and buy her way out of it.

Well that didn’t work, Mae thought, since the gator didn't seem to change her expression as she picks her up. Their eyes meet; blue eyes with red eyes. Mae’s ears twitches and perks up, an idea comes through.

Before Bea has any chance to say anything, Mae’s ears slowly droop and she gives her sad eyes. Her tail wraps around herself and her whiskers droops along. She did what she hasn’t done for a long time.

She mews.

Bea freezes. Her mind goes blank, like, literally. Did she hear what she really thinks it was? No, it really is…

She effing mewed.

Her still body slowly trembles. The corner of her mouth tries to curve upright but she restrains herself. She can’t surrender, not after what she has done to her apartment.

But her ears, her eyes and tail. And… and her mew.

She could feel her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. A shaky sigh escapes her lips and her body relaxes. “…are you hurt?” she asks. Mae shakes her head.

Bea places her on the couch and pets her gently. “Don’t do anything. I’ll clean up the mess,” she says and goes back into her room.

Now Mae was genuinely surprised. Normally, people would just kick her right out of their house or send her back to the shelter, not even after she had done all the cute stuff. They wouldn’t bother if she’s hurt or not as long as she’s gone.

Mae does what Bea tells her; do nothing. Her eyes look at the mess she made; the papers and the damaged couch. Her ears droop and she frowns.

You done it again, Mae… You woke her up early in the morning with a painful back and now she had to clean your mess up. No wonder they want to put you down.

Mae slumps down on the couch with a groan, her paws over her face. For once, she feels miserable for doing that. She stays on the couch for a moment before her eyes peek out from between her paws to see the paper mess.

That’s something I could clean up, right? She thought.

So, she gets off the couch and goes to gather up the paper pieces in one place. Her tail sweeps up the small bits and gathers them in the pile. Oddly, she feels satisfied when everything is in place.

She stares at them, the urge to jump into them are just too strong to ignored. Still, she has to restrain herself. She was supposed to do nothing, like what Bea told her.

But it’s a good thing. She wouldn’t get mad if I do good, right?

Mae sighs. She doesn’t want to take a risk to do more damage, so she climbs back up onto the couch and does nothing. The bedroom's door opens and Bea walks out with a broken lamp and glass on a doormat, she thinks, and into the kitchen.

She could hear Bea grumble to herself and her ears slowly droops. Is she mad? She thought.

She didn’t want to be send back.

No, she didn’t.

Mae stays silent and waits. She slumps down on the couch again, both in guilt and boredom. She hears soft footsteps coming in and Bea kneels near the papers, brushing them into the dustpan. She goes back and forth into the kitchen and the lounge until the mess was cleaned up.

Bea sighs in relief. She comes back into the lounge, hands free from everything and takes a seat on the torn couch.

That’s another thing to be worried about. .

Oh, well…

“Bea?” The cat calls. Bea turns, concern in her eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

She doesn’t answer immediately and glances down at her bandaged hands. “Oh… got glass cuts. I’ll be fine, kiddo,” she says.

Mae frowns deeply, “A-are you going to send me back then?” she mutters.  

Bea pauses. She is loss on words for a moment. “Why… would I do that?”

“Because that’s what people do if I mess things up. The worse is they’d left me in the streets…” Her voice is soft. There is a hint of tears near the end.

Bea felt nervous. She’s no expert when it comes to others crying. The last she ever cried was during the funeral and that’s it. And barely anyone tries to comfort her…

Still, one thing she knows is she can’t let the cat shed a tear. Not here, not in front of her.

She hates people crying.

“I won’t do that.”

Mae looks up surprised. “You… won’t?”

Uh oh. What are you doing? Do you still want to keep her?

The hell are you-…

Real talk, Beatrice. This is only a small scale of destruction. What happens if you keep her for a week? A month? A YEAR?!

Bea looks at Mae, contemplating of the things she has done so far. Broke the lamp, scratched the couch and tore up some papers and luckily nothing important is damaged.

That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, right? This could be your only chance.

The gator’s tail shifts uncomfortably and Mae notices. Her expression changes and her ears droop again.

It’s not that hard. Pick her up and send her back to the shelter.

“I won’t do that.” The words escaped her lips again. Mae looks up, hopeful.

Hey, that’s not-…

Go to hell.

“You hungry, Mae? I mean, I don’t usually cook in the morning but uh… you did say you woke up early…” she says. Those words make the cat’s ears shot up and twitches in excitement. Mae smiles.

And Bea smiles too.

“Can I pick what we’re gonna eat?” Mae says.

“Huh… well, knock yourself out. But just point out the ingredients. I’ll do the cooking.”

The cat throws her arms in the air and her eyes beams in excitement. Bea chuckles and follows her into the kitchen, where she already jumps to reach the handle on the fridge. The gators sighs and the moment she opens it, Mae points out the eggs and bacons.

Bea glances at the wall clock; 5:03AM. Earlier than usual.

Would be nice to stay in bed for few more hours, is it?

Just shut up already.

A simple plate of eggs and bacon fills the stomach for the morning. Mae had to sit on Bea’s lap so it would be easier for the taller woman to feed her.

She lets out a contented purr and her ears twitched happily. Bea often had to avert her eyes away whenever Mae stared up at her as she waits to be fed and endures the ordeal until the cat finishes.

She jumps off Bea’s lap and stands close to the table as the gator finished up her meal and washes the dishes. Mae watches, unbeknownst to her caused discomfort towards Bea. Bea quietly clears her throat and tries to keep her cool.

By the time she’s done cleaning, Mae wanders off in the dark lounge. Bea immediately follows, hoping to prevent any damage the cat would do.

Mae is already holding something in her paws. She turns on the lights and reveals the picture frame in her grip.

Bea snatches it from her in an instant. Her eyes are sharp, glaring down at Mae, “Don’t ever touch this,” she growls.

Mae frowns. She doesn’t seem to be bothered by her glare. There’s concern in her eyes as she looks at Bea, “Where’s your mom?” she asks.  

Bea rolls her eyes, “Why do you care?” she scoffs.  

Mae doesn’t answer. She stares, her frown is still there. Bea sighs and puts the frame on top of the tv. “Don’t do anything,” she says and enters her bedroom. Mae stood there and glances up to the picture frame.

Way to go, Mae. Things just started to go good and you just had to ruin it  

Mae frowns deeply on her own thoughts. She climbs onto the couch and wraps her tail around herself, slowly slumping down to curl up.  

In the bedroom, Bea sighs softly as she sits on her bed. Donning a black shirt for today and puts on her ankh necklace. She lights up a cigarette and inhales, tasting the nicotine before releasing the smoke through her nostrils.

This calms her nerves and mind enough to think rationally. She shouldn’t have snapped at Mae like that. Mae was curious, that’s all.

No, she’s being nosy. That’s what.

She doesn’t know. She’s curious. She just got here.

Well she should’ve known not to touch anything unless you let her. No respect, at all.

It’s not her fault, dammit!

Those words escape her mouth as well. She huffs, smoke puffing out of her nostrils again. She glances at the door. It’s quiet out there.

Maybe she ran away?

Bea scrambles to her feet and leaves the room. Her eyes scan the whole apartment and they settled on Mae’s small frame on the couch. Curled up and her face buries in her paws. Bea sighs, stamping her half-finished cigarette into the ashtray on the table and sits next to her.

She carefully pries her paws away from her face. The cat is asleep and she could hear soft purrs from her. She smiles, albeit sadly.

“Dad, where’s mommy?”

“She’s at the hospital, sweetie. Mommy needs to stay there.”

“But why? Mommy stays with us!”

“She can’t, Beatrice… She had to stay there…”

Her face scrunches into a scowl. Those words still ringing in her mind and repeat. She looks at the picture frame on the tv. It feels like it’s been years since her mother left both her and her father. She almost forgotten what she looks like.

But whenever she looks at the photograph, she could feel warmth from her mother’s smile as if she’s still alive. They were… happy in it. She couldn’t remember the last time she was that happy. When smiling and laughing is a common thing for the Santello’s.

She gets up to hold the photograph, to take a closer look. It feels like a dream that never happened. It felt fake… but real at the same time.  

She missed those days so much.

“BeaBea?” a soft voice calls her. She turns. Mae slowly sits up and rubs her eyes. The cat watches her for a moment, her brows slowly furrows into a frown. “Are you… crying?”

Bea didn’t realize she was till she wipes her claw over her eyes. She was, she is crying… Her claw is wet with tears. She quickly turns away to wipe them off, but Mae speaks up again, “I’m sorry…”  

The taller woman pauses for a moment. She wipes the tears away and slowly look back at Mae. “No… I’m sorry, Mae. I shouldn’t have snapped like that,” she says. Glancing at the photograph, she holds it firmly and brings it over to Mae.

Mae carefully hold the frame in her paws and studies the photo. “Your mom looks beautiful…” she comments. Bea smiles.

“She sure is…” Bea lets the cat studies the photo a bit longer and watches every action she does. Mae gently taps her paw on the glass, fearing she would break it too. The gator really appreciates the small gesture. She speaks up after a moment of silence, “She died…” she mutters.

Mae’s ears caught her words and looks up. She waits instead of pressing on. She doesn’t want to annoy her taller friend. Bea sighs, “Died of cancer. Senior year…” she continues.

“Oh…” Her ears droops and she frowns. She looks at the photo again, “No wonder you snapped… I’m sorry…” she responds.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault, kiddo.”

“Awww Bea! Stop calling me that!” Bea quirks her brows. The cat already placed the frame on the table before she crossed her arms.

“Call you what?”

“Kiddo! I’m 20, you know?!” She exclaims and throw her arms in the air as if to prove her point. The gator smirks and rolls her eyes.

“What else do you want me to call you? Shorty? That doesn’t sound bad either.”

Mae squints her eyes at her taller friend. “That is very offensive for every short person in this world,” she mutters.

Bea shrugs, a smile plastered on her face, “I’m not the one that made you short,” she says. The cat huffs and drops her arms to her side.

“Fair point.”

Bea sighs and glances at the clock. 5:45 AM. She has time to check the account and her father in those free hours.

Oh yeah, she has to go to work too. 

Shit.

She can’t possibly leave Mae by herself in her apartment. Who knows what else she would do if she’s away for the rest of the day?

But can she really afford the risk of bringing her to the store?

Meh, as if dad would come to the store.

“Hey, Mae?”

“What is it, Bea?”

Whoa, hold on. Are you serious with this?

“Wanna go on an adventure with me later?”

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy Facts/ the chaos of my brain

I kept forgetting the damn name

Legit

Like “No… no wHAT????? Oh”

Aella is a name associated with storms and wind, so I gave her that name because I wanted someone who really did embody that

I kept wanting to spell Aella’s name allen smh

This book started when i finally got off my ass and convinced myself to do a mafia au. The entire plot was pulled out of my ass in a period of brainstorming that kept me up until 5:30 the next morning

I actually sketched out the apartment’s layout so I could see it better.

later I actually designed a messy version of what it’d somewhat be like in the sims

Karanese is actually a district in the Attack on Titan universe :)

Each chapter takes me like 2 hours to write simply because I play out each and every ending in my head and choose the best one I’d want to see in a story

Other times I legit just have a feeling like I absolutely know how a chapter plays out like Chapter 3’s murder fight scene. It just came to me and all I had to do was describe it like I had just watched a movie

Chapter one took a total of seven hours to write

The plot twists were created when I asked myself what cliche can I change?

(Except I kept a few just to make fun of it I.E. roommates and badboy x nerdy character because that shit is hilarious and can really show the dynamic of how different each character really is)

Chapter two bore me to death to be honest

An actual example of my brainstorming while writing down facts:

I have no idea what the fuck to do after chapter 3 help

I pretty much said fuck it to planning out a plot and just wung it

Where am I gonna place Hange and the others

What about Eren lol

OH SHIT I JUST HAD THE IDEA THAT HANGE AND AELLA WERE FRIENDS BEFORE AELLA WAS KICKED OUT AOUFHALIUEHFALIUEHF

THEY’D TOTALLY BE LESBIANS FOR EACH OTHER

How’d you come up with the name for No Sympathy?

hilarious answer, actually. I spent two damn hours laying on my bed googling “what’s your mafia nickname” to just messing around with broken languages on google translate until it just popped in my head. Pretty much I was like “oh shit that sounds lit and fearsome lets do it bois” and yeah

I’m actually making this list of fun facts while writing each chapter. I’m going to start working on chapter 4 tomorrow and hopefully get my shit together to make a somewhat good plot??

Lmao I lied I got really fucking lazy and wrote the chapter at 11 at night and published it at midnight

I wrote everything about no sympathy in one iCloud note and titled it “No sympathy; the complete chaos of making a book”

The true main character of No Sympathy is actually Levi since I feel like I understand him completely since I relate to him so much; making Levi the easiest character I’ve written about ever. Though, his true character (in my opinion) doesn’t necessarily shine through in the beginning chapters as Levi don’t get along with new people, but you can see him warm up to Aella by doing her homework, dragging her out of the party, etc.

I’ve realized I have a distinct writing pattern while writing No Sympathy: comma, semi-colon, double dash. (Chapters two and three really showcase it as I wrote those two back to back in the car)

Had I actually had the inspiration and the motivation to write this almost a year ago, I would’ve been writing about the mafia at 13, which is an absolute hilarious thought to think about when I look back to my previous fanfics. Then again, my dumbass 14-year-old self is just as clingy as my dumbass 13-year-old self lmaoo

I gave Aella the same birth day (not year lmao) as mine (September 10) so she’d be 17 during the first month of school and 18 for the rest of the book

Going off of that fact, Levi is exactly 1 year and 8 months older than Aella (I kept his original birthday)

My cat demanded that I gave him cuddles and attention so I had to stop writing for one entire day because he wanted cuddles

Normally my cat just lays on my chest while I write b u t n o he wanted cuddles

If Levi never came into the picture Aella would probably date Hanji (for all of those fellow LGBTQIA+ readers and readers that really love Hanji)

While writing chapter 1 I listened to Ghost by Halsey on repeat and I think if you read while playing the exact song it somewhat shows in the pace I set for readers.

The term ‘block class’ is actually derived from what my own high school (even though I’m not even fully considered a freshman yet jfc) uses when referring to a 90 minute class

The book Technically begins on a Saturday with Levi — the actual power duo meet that Monday (because unlike dumbass schools in real life, their first day of school was on a Monday instead of the Friday before.) on their first day. That Tuesday was chapter 4, Wednesday being chapter 5, Thursday being chapter 6 (we skip Friday because it doesn’t fucking matter in the story lmao), and Saturday being the day of the party.

Writing an x reader but without the reader was really fucking hard, honestly. I couldn’t just randomly say ‘Levi looked over at the H/C girl working on her homework across from him’ as it’d just be weird, so I thought of the next best thing and never described Aella — making her free for interpretation of her looks.

I was going to have Aella have a name reveal like ‘my real name is Y/N…’ but then I was like “No what? Fuck it. Levi already knew from the beginning after looking at her documents.”

No Sympathy was actually going to be an original story, but Levi’s character fit so well I decided to make it a fanfic.

I actually wanted to stop writing after chapter 3 because I didn’t know what to do with the plot, but I asked my friend for help coming up with the plot using the paragraphs of ideas I had to make an actual plot. So, I can successfully say I owe it to her for helping and the one sentence that kept me going in my head: “I want to make a story I’m proud of.” So I fucked up my (nonexistent, really lmao) sleeping and eating schedules and started working on this book everyday even when I didn’t post a chapter that day.

Though, it’s not really specified in the early chapters, Aella was bullied into being hated by the entire school — leaving her to be all alone, which actually happened to me and gave me PTSD after transferring.

Ironically, I gave Aella a ton of reactions and characteristics I would/ just generally have, but I see myself more in Levi, which is probably why I prefer writing about him over Aella.

As of writing this, chapter 5 is currently my favorite chapter as it is a mix of a filler chapter and a regular important chapter still just as important as the rest.

Depression and PTSD actually got in the way of writing so many times I actually am surprised I’ve written so much

As writing has always been my go to for letting out everything (as I have z e r o close friends lmao) I actually don’t realize when I’m done with each chapter until I realize I’m out of ideas for said chapter.

I don’t even realize I write about 2,000 words until it’s like “oh,,”

No Sympathy wasn’t just any fanfic for me, it was like I was actually Aella seeing the entire story unfold from beginning to finish

I tried to push myself to describe more, as I’ve noted while rereading my previous shitty fanfics — I struggled describing everything.

I tried to not have the basic “tch”, “brat”, and just random cursing from Levi unless it was at the exact wrong time (or I just put it in because I could totally see him saying that in said situation)

I tried characterizing Hanji as someone who wasn’t the basic overexcited dumbass most fanfics portray her as — instead I tried thinking of her as an actual person with reactions and different moods  and tried to embody that each time I wrote her

Character development is a huge thing Ive been trying to work on ever since I wrote A Valkyrie and a Mischievous God (though that character development and story sucked ass and I cringe at how popular it’s gotten), and a huge target for it was none other than Aella. At the beginning you could see she felt trapped in an endless cycle of stress and fending for herself, but when Levi came in and was like “lmao I have money you don’t have to stress” she felt like she was in an odd spot, and eventually after she reunited with Hanji she started to feel more free

Parents were completely cut out of this story because I genuinely don’t know how to write them as mine are either states away by choice or always working, so I just had Aella get kicked out and had her entire family gone.

My best ideas surface at 4 am when I’m trying to fucking sleep

Help me

But hey I now have a new passion for this book

I generally didn’t know how to end it

buT THEN I D I D

A huge thing for me, and my entire driving motion for writing this was a simple sentence: “I want to write something I’m proud of.”

Am I proud of this?

Eh. It’s not shitty, I suppose. I could always do better.

Characterization was so difficult for me. I wanted to stray from basic fanfics of an overly hyper Hange (though, I couldn’t help in some situations, but after watching an entire season and a half in one day, you notice personality changes) and write and more serious one — except I’m a damn shitty author with so many grammatical mistakes my ex-mentor would literally rip her hair out.

Writing a book has always been my goal, and I know this is the only thing that will ever come close to it.

I have another Levi x reader planned, but I always hate doing the basic ‘_____’ ‘Y/N’, etc because it literally drives my depressed self I n s a n e when writing

Most times for my outline summaries of the chapters I just put my name in place of Aella lmao

I actually struggled a lot when writing this; sometimes I even broke down thinking no one liked this book or I wasn’t a good enough author to write anymore.

My asshole self mainly spent my summer writing this rip

Currently, as it is July 2nd, I am literally hoping to Levi that I fucking get this done before August or else I’m so fucking screwed with beginning high school and shit.

Oh yeah btw, I’M NOT FUCKING READY FOR THE FINAL SEASON. I’LL BE A DAMN SOPHOMORE AND THAT IN ITSELF K I L L S ME

I don’t know if I’m actually going to continue with this book, but have these collected facts I started writing the moment the first chapter was out :,) It’s already September and my past dumbass was right

High school is kicking my ass

I have another story idea/plot written out and I really like it so idk. I think I’d stop halfway again because I’d think that no one would like it