Writer Stuff - Blog Posts

writers! favorite line(s) from your current WIP?

mine is: Shouto sits curled up beside the door and waits patiently for the flimsy defense to crumble. When it finally does so, it is not with the same fury and righteousness that Shouto had imagined, but carefully pushed- the creak an askance rather than a condemnation- with hardened hands more suited for holding children than tearing unholy beings apart. The only thing that rains down upon him from the open doorway is water.

currently looking for someone to beta-read some of my i7 stuff, so lmk if you’re interested!

I have a few short fics posted here under the #i7 tag and the #writeblr tag for reference

i feel like my writing has been on a steady decline lately, so pls enjoy this offering from a writing class that i took last spring (when i felt my writing was getting a lot better). it was one of the first, serious original writing pieces i worked on and i definitely leaned on bakugou katsuki's personality to help inform how i wrote Tony lol, but i was pleasantly surprised with the outcome!

i'd love to hear your thoughts (and if anyone's interested in beta-ing my i7 work, pls message me!)

it never got a title but i suppose ill call it...

In Ten Year's Time (1,737 words, original one-shot)

The bus was late.

Tony slumped further in his seat, trying to tune out the chattering next to him while the hard metal rungs of the bench dug further into his back. Tony didn't care if Maria's youngest child had finally started kindergarten or if the acne-ridden line cook sitting in between them was saving up to go to flight school. He did care that their conversation was making the words of his essay prompt swim on the page, 'night shift' and 'empty nest' burrowing an unwanted space between 'where do you see yourself in ten years?'.

Hopefully by then he'd be done waiting at this stupid bus stop.

Maria cackled loudly at something Acne Face had said and Tony took a deep breath through his nose, bouncing his left leg and focusing more intently on the notebook balanced on his right.

In ten years I will be, he wrote, pencil jerking when one of them- Maria, probably- began playing a video clip that started out like an air raid siren. Old people never knew how to fucking lower their volume in public. Tony didn't bother erasing the jagged line that streaked across his page or the one knitting his eyebrows together.

...in anger management, he finished wryly. Or jail.

Maria's shiny clump of necklaces caught the light as she leaned forward and Tony made the mistake of glancing up to investigate, caught in the headlights of her searching gaze while the large man in between them tried to respectfully shrink into nothingness.

"I'm sorry honey," she said apologetically, the remnant of a laugh still caught in her throat. "Are we being too loud?"

Tony grit his teeth against his instinctual, biting response. As much as she was getting on his nerves now, Maria was unbearably nice to him and always dropped off an apple pie during the holidays.

"A bit," he forced out, along with his best half-smile.

Her pleasant expression- endlessly patient while he searched his vocabulary for words that wouldn't sting- turned apologetic and Tony's stomach soured. "It's- it's whatever," he amended, turning away. "I was gonna wrap it up anyways. Bus should be here soon."

"Still," she said softly, followed by an awkward apology from the line cook that might have been the result of an expectant look from Maria. Tony couldn't be sure, eyes locked on an uninteresting pebble.

He rolled it around beneath the sole of his show for the five seconds it took for him to become bored, then kicked it and watched the rock skate clumsily over the curb and into the empty space beyond. Where the bus should be.

"Tory's not picking you up, today?" Maria continued pleasantly.

Tony shook his head, biting down a mean grin while imagining the way his mother's face would scrunch up at the nickname. "Nah."

"Well," Maria replied, the sigh and shifting fabric letting him know that she'd given up on eye contact, "might still be faster if she gets you from here."

"What?" Tony asked, turning his head only to be met with a pale, tattooed bicep. With a barely audible huff, he leaned forward to see around the line cook. "But the bus is supposed to come at four," he insisted.

The line cook chuckled and Tony scowled at him, unencumbered by apple-pie shaped shackles.

The man reigned himself in with an awkward cough. "I don't know where you heard that," he said, "but this bus never shows up earlier than five."

Tony stared at him, then Maria, then the line cook again. The man offered him a shrug.

"Five," Tony repeated blandly.

"Five," they agreed.

Tony clenched his fists, silently burying himself in his backpack to escape their sympathetic grimaces but he could still feel their eyes on the back of his neck like a rash. He rifled carelessly through notebooks and folders and textbooks, crumpling half of them in his wake before coming back up with a fresh sheet of paper and the stub of a pencil.

The stubs were harder to snap.

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek and tuned out the tentative chatter starting up again on his right.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Tony scribbled his name on the top of the page, first and last. Then the date. Then the name of his homeroom teacher just for the hell of it, trying to at least look like he was busy and not avoiding the rest of the page.

"College applications, huh?" the line cook commented.

Tony's nostrils flared. Apparently he didn't look busy enough.

"Oh, Angelica had such an awful time with hers," Maria lamented. Tony had already chosen his prompt but he leaned further over his paper to write down the other two. "Something about who you'd want to have dinner with? Honestly, how a college can pick you based on your dinner guests makes no sense to me," she complained, huffing, "and if Mother Teresa isn't good enough for them then they're not good enough for my daughter."

The line cook whistled appreciatively, a bit of mirth slipping out in the shade of his voice. "You tell 'em."

Tony slowly uncurled from his hunched over position, not quite turning his head to face them.

"Angelica got rejected?"

"Mm," Maria agreed solemnly. "Three times." Then she shrugged, the bitterness alighting from her shoulders like birds on a wire. "But she'd happy where she is."

Tony tapped his pencil stub against his knee, retreating from the conversation once more.

Angelica was two years older than him and he only ever really saw her at church or the odd Christmas party but he knew for a fact she had ranked first in her year. Hell, he'd overheard her reciting her valedictorian speech instead of prayer during communion too many times to count.

Tony pulled out his phone, tapping until he found the right screen.

He held his breath.

S. Antonio, 42

And kept holding it, idly wishing that he could just pass out and not have to deal with college applications anymore. He imagined a puppet doctor in a crisp white lab coat saying, Sorry ma'am, turns out your kid's terminally ill and needs to be exempt from college applications. Bed rest only.

His little wooden limbs would jangle as he shrugged.

Then he imagined his puppet mother pointing in the doctor's face, demanding that they heal him because Tony wasn't allowed to die before becoming a doctor himself and the puppet doctor would droop like his strings had been cut and do as he was told because Tony's mother controlled the universe.

"Uh...hey, kid? Everything alright over there?"

Tony's head snapped up to the line cook, blinking away his daydream and the black spots while he heaved in a lungful of air as subtly as possible. "I'm fine," he spat on the exhale.

Tony's pencil stub lay on the ground between his feet, having slipped from his shaky hands. The sheet of paper, still mostly blank, lay plastered to his thigh.

"Essay that hard?" the line cook asked lightly, lips quirked up in a careful smile.

Tony sneered in the face of it, bristling. "No," he snapped. Heart pounding and lungs still trembling, Tony sat up straighter and gave the man a onceover. "I know damn well where I don't want to be in ten years."

The man's eyes widened but a chuckle was quick to follow. "On your way home to the love of your life after a good day at work?"

Tony's mouth fell open, letting loose a weak, "I-"

"Antonio!" his mother called, her sleek gray car pulling into the space in front of the bench. Right where the bus should be. "Get in, what're you waiting around for?"

Tony scrambled to shove his things back into his bag, staunchly avoiding eye contact and standing before he was finished, nearly tripping for his efforts. The back of his neck burned.

"Nice to see you, Tory," Maria called.

Victoria's mouth pursed, then smoothed out into what she probably thought was polite neutrality, fingers tapping the steering wheel at regular intervals. "You too," she said, voice so falsely sweet it could rot your teeth. Tony wondered if they could tell. "How's Angelica doing? I heard she moved back home?"

Tony paused, hand on the open frame of the passenger side door. His mother's interest might not have been genuine but Tony knew as soon as he was inside the car she'd be off without waiting for the answer. He stepped away to load his bag in the backseat, instead.

"She's happy," Maria replied, the serene smile audible in her voice. "Rediscovering her passions." Tony's mother offered a noncommittal hum, sharp eyes darting to her son's hesitating form. "And your children?" Maria inquired.

"Oh, they're wonderful," Tony's mother replied. "Brock's nearly finished with law school now. Columbia. And of course, Antonio here's getting ready to apply to all the best schools in the country." She smiled, polished teeth flashing. "A little doctor in the making."

Tony kept his eyes low as he slipped into the passenger seat and his mother hardly waited for the door to shut behind him before pulling away. For a few, long moments neither of them said anything, letting the quiet hum of the engine permeate the empty space the way other families listened to the radio. Tony's leg bounced silently.

"Maria's nice," he finally said, the statement hanging in the air like a reprimand.

His mother's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Mhmm."

Tony rolled the words around behind his teeth, weighing the risks, before adding a careful, "So's her wife."

"Did I say anything unsavory?" his mother snapped. Tony shook his head, shifting in his seat to stare determinedly out the window, cursing his inability to disappear or turn back time or sew his mouth shut.

"Well?" she pressed.

Tony wished he hadn't said anything at all. "No."

"That's what I thought," she said shortly. Then she sighed. "I don't know why you always have to paint me as the villain, Antonio."

"Sorry," Tony muttered quietly.

In his head, he wrote, In ten years, I do not want to be like my mother.

In his head, he wrote, Maybe I'll sit on a bus bench with a friend after a good day of work and won't daydream about dying.

Maybe I won't even mind if the bus is late.

“But my writing’s not good like-” Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy.

The constant battle between the urge to write and the need to be functional the next day

Just wrote 355 words. Very proud of myself.

Just… could these little bursts of creativity come before 4am next time?

Thank you for your participation in this survey, you may find a virtual cookie on the desk on your way out.

One of my fave story ideas. I hope I get around to expanding on it!

Short Story- Not Another Paranormal Romance: By Adinelle Ggreeo

'The new boy was a demon straight from hell, who came to corrupt their school and she was the only one who was trying to do something about it.'

Fourteen-year-old Gabriella Pierre seems to be the only person at her school not completely enamoured by the supernaturally beautiful Cyrus Hinds, the new boy in their year. A simple touch of hands reveals to her an insidious visage and dark designs now intent on destroying her life.

'What better way for a demon to mess with a teenage girl than to 'fall in love' with her?'

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You can also read my stories here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

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The new boy was a demon. She knew that it was hard to believe. Her friends didn't even believe her when she tried to tell them! They laughed, thinking she had a crush on the thing and was trying to deny it! The new boy–thing–creature, calling itself Cyrus was a demon straight from hell, who came to corrupt their school and she was the only one who was trying to do something about it.

He came to their school in the middle of the second term, an awkward time to transfer schools, especially secondary schools. He was placed in class 3-B as they had space from a couple of students who transferred out the years before. Gabriella was in class 3-D, so she didn't see or hear much about the new boy until lunchtime. She sat with her friends, Amaya, Kadiah and Marissa at their usual corner table in the cafeteria. Huffing softly, she listened as they gushed about him.

Amaya, being from 3-B, had all the gossip. Their usually quieter friend had a lot to say. With stars in her eyes and awe in her voice, she told them about the tall, handsome boy with deep brown skin and eyes like Brown Obsidian gems. His voice was warm and sweet like hot chocolate, his smile was as bright as diamonds and–

“He's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen!" she signed dreamily. Her wild curly hair flew around her, seeming to be taking part in her excitement and her glasses nearly fell off her face as she gestured wildly.

Gabriella huffed again.

"That's not saying much, Maya. Boys aren't that cute in the first place."

Marissa sighed in exasperation.

"Oh come on, girl. I know you have high standards when it comes to boys, but this one sounds like he would definitely surpass them!" She flicked her long plait over her shoulder, grinning mischievously.

Not this again. Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"I have zero standards for them because I expect them to always be up to no good!"

Her friends laughed good-naturedly.

"Whatever you say, Gabs," Kadiah chuckled. Her fingers were twirling one of her twists as she turned back to Amaya, who took that as her cue to continue singing praises about the new boy.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the entrance. A small crowd was starting to form and voices were rising.

'Ahh,' she thought. 'The man of the hour is here.'

Sure enough, as the crowd parted like the red sea, the new boy came into view.

Oh wow. Gabriella felt her heart flutter a little in her chest. She frowned. It seemed Amaya wasn't exaggerating. He actually was that beautiful.

She thought he looked like one of those royal elves from the Young Adult novels the girls liked to swoon over. He was tall and trim with wide shoulders and a slim waist. The boring white shirt and purple trousers that was the boys’ uniform looked like designer wear on him. He had smooth skin with a few moles here and there and warm dark eyes. He smiled at the people around him, dazzling them with his pearly white teeth. His afro hair was cut into a fade with pentagram star designs on each side of his head. She was surprised he got away with that.

Everyone seemed to be eager to meet the new boy, practically throwing themselves in his face for him to notice them. Gabriella looked on in confusion, her face screwing up at the behaviour. What kind of circus show was this? Are they not embarrassed? These kinds of things only happened in the movies! She couldn't believe people were behaving this way. And over a boy! Sure, a very handsome boy, but still!

"Ahhhhh!" Amaya whisper-squealed. "He's coming this way!" She had latched on to Gabriella's arm squeezing and shaking her. Slapping her friend's hands away, she watched as the new boy made his way over to their table. Already a bit annoyed and not really in the mood to be nice, she spoke before the boy could open his mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

Her friends were aghast, trying to apologize to him and scold her at the same time. He waved them off, laughing softly. Her friends melted. Ugh.

"Amaya right?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer from the girl, he pulled out a sparkly pink pen from his trousers pocket, holding it out to her.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Amaya took the pen reverently. Marissa and Kadiah gaze upon it as if it held the secrets to the universe. Amaya, still too shocked to say anything just nodded, still giggling.

Not missing a beat, the new boy carried on the one-sided conversation. "Are these your friends?"

That shook her back into existence. Amaya jerked, almost falling out of her chair.

"Yeah-Yes!" she almost yelled. "Th-these are my friends Marissa, Kadiah and Gabriella, who's normally really nice." She gave Gabriella an annoyed yet pleading look.

'Play nice and please don't embarrass us to death,' she seemed to say. "Everyone, this is Cyrus!"

Gabriella rolled her eyes but kept quiet. Cyrus smiled at the group and her friends visibly swooned. Honestly! She was starting to feel like she was in a teen drama!

"Nice to meet you all," he said. He held out his hand to shake. Kadiah, who was closest took it immediately, with both of hers.

"Yes, sooo nice to meet you!" she gushed.

Amaya and Marissa were more dignified, softly shaking his hand and giggling all the while. Gabriella stared at his hand for a few seconds. She looked up at him and scowled slightly when she saw that he was grinning down at her. He cocked an eyebrow in challenge. Fine then. She took his hand.

And that’s when things grew weird and terrifying.

Where their hands touched, smoke began to form and deep, nasty burns bloomed across his skin. The air filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Before she could pull back in horror, he did. He yanked his ruined hand back, cradling it to his chest. He hissed at her, his beautiful face contorting grotesquely. And not in the normal way your face goes ugly when you're angry. No, his face grew long and his mouth wide. His teeth went from perfect pearls to long, crooked, yellow daggers. His ears grew tall, long and pointed, like some kind of animal's and his eyes flashed bright and red, burning with a fire that could only be from hell.

Before she could scream, everything went back to normal.

Gabriella blinked, still frozen from the terror at what she saw. But Cyrus looked normal. Normal, pretty face and perfect smile. No pointy ears or red hellfire eyes. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but he wasn't behaving as if he had horrible third-degree burns. She slowly looked around at her friends, and at the other students in the cafeteria. No one was acting out of the ordinary. No one was acting as if Cyrus had just transformed into a monster. He wasn't acting as of he had just transformed into a monster.

Gabriella looked on as he made an excuse to leave, something about needing to head to the principal's office. Her friends cheerfully said their goodbyes. Amaya elbowed her not too gently.

"Fix your face," she hissed.

Gabriella felt the deep frown on her face. She smoothed out her expression but didn't bother to smile as her eyes met his. They were warm and brown and shining with interest. He didn't look upset but intrigued. He smiled at her, a slow, small smile that was meant to look shy.

"See you later, Gabriella?"

His eyes flashed red for just a millisecond. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to get up and scream at him, curse him out, maybe grab his face to see if it would burn just like his hand. But no. She would look crazy and get in trouble for attacking the new boy. So she smiled her fakest smile and said,

"See you later, Cyrus”.

Gabriella had some investigating to do.

Short Story- Shades of Violet: By Adinelle Ggreeo

I can see the good and the bad in people.

Red and blue are what I see. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple.

We all have the capacity for good and bad within us. Our shades of purple depend on whether we choose to listen more to the angel or to the demon on our shoulders.

But there are those that have no angel at all.

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You can also read my stories here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

I can see the good and the bad in people. I've had this ability since I was a young girl. It appears to me as an aura around the person, emanating from their heart space. Red and blue are what I see. Red for bad, blue for good. Simple stuff. Though human beings are not that simple. Red and blue mixed make purple. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple. We all have the capacity to do good or bad. Our shades of purple depend on whether we listen to the angel on our shoulders or the demon. But there are those that have no angel at all.

One instance was in a church, of all places. An acquaintance of mine invited me to a Sunday mass at her community's church. She was very braggadocios with her invitation, telling me all about the beauty of the building and the status of her community. She was the kind of woman who cared too much about how she looked and what people thought about her. All the while, she judged others for those same insecurities. She was a little on the red side of purple. Just a little. I didn't think too much of it. She wasn't bad, just superficial. So I said yes.

When I walked into the church that Sunday, I was immediately on guard. There was a worrying amount of red-violet people walking around. They smiled their false smiles and spoke their false well wishes to each other. One of them came up to me, a woman. She was decked all in red. Red dress, red lips, red fingernails and toenails, and an almost red aura. She looked me up and down as she walked over. It was slight and quick, but I saw her nose wrinkle and the corners of her lips turned down. I suppose she wasn't a fan of my hand-me-down cotton dress on my plain brown flats. Her wide smile snapped back into place, and she greeted me with a high voice, speaking loudly enough for others to hear. She was apparently one of the ushers. I told her I was invited by an acquaintance and asked if I could be seated with her. Apparently not.

“Oh, newcomers sit at the back, sweetie,” she said, showing me to one of the pews in a dark corner of the church. I was the only one sitting there, which was strange for such a large church.

The building itself was quite grand. It really was as beautiful as I was told. It had tall ceilings with Victorian-esque chandeliers and large, colourful stained glass windows that lined the walls. They depicted in grand detail The Passion of Christ. Statues of St. Mary, Jesus Christ, and various Angels and saints painted in gold and jewel tones stood tall near the altar. The altar itself looked more like a performance stage. I could see stage lights all around. the priest's chair looked more like a throne, tall, wide and covered in rich purple velvet and what looked like precious gems. Very pretty, but unnecessary. I sat there uncomfortably, taking in the church and watching the people, seeing very few of a blue hue.

My final straw was when the priest came in with all the altar servers and lectures. As we all stood for their entrance, I noticed how everyone was placed. All the people grew redder the closer to the altar they were. Then I saw the priest at the end of the procession. Decked out in his white robes, he glowed a deep, blood red, brighter than I'd ever seen and I was immediately filled with dread and horror. I didn't care how it looked, I got up and power-walked down the aisle. I ran when I heard someone call out. I refused to stay in the same space as someone so vile as to have the aura of blood.

The acquaintance and I are no longer familiar.

Another instance happened when I was a teenager and thankfully, it was just in passing. My friends and I were at the mall, just hanging out. Those were our ‘window shopping’ days, when we had nothing but lint in our pockets, having spent all our allowances as soon as we got them. I'm a lot better at managing my money these days. We sat in the food court, nibbling on the sandwiches that we brought from home. we were people watching, well boy watching to be more accurate. Ooo-ing and Aah-ing over boys and men that were too old for us.

My friend, Sharon had pointed him out to us, her eyes wide with awe. The other girls were no better, openly staring at him with gaping mouths. It was obvious why. He was beautiful in an etheric way. He was tall and slim with dark brown skin that contrasted with his pure white afro hair. He wore it in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore all white. White short-sleeved button-up shirt, white trousers, and white sneakers with not a speck of dirt on them. He was looking down at a little black book he held in one hand as he walked by. His other hand gently grazed his sharp jawline. That drew our attention to his strong nose, plump lips and the long, dark lashes that framed his eyes.

“Oh my gosh, he looks like an anime boy!” my friend, Ali whisper-squealed.

The others chimed in with their agreement. I was watching his back as he left our sight with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Because that was the first time I'd ever seen a person glowing so red. his aura was the colour of rubies and it beamed out of him in tentacle-like rays, like a red sun.

“That one's your pick huh, Cici?” Sharon teased, elbowing me out of my trance. I force the giggle I'm trying to ignore the roiling in my stomach. I prayed to never see that boy again.

I have seen and met people that were fully blue. All of them were babies and small children, pure souls untouched by the darkness of the world. They start to become tinged with red by the time they're about ten years old. Children can be cruel, after all. I have yet to meet a blue adult. They don't exist. By the time we’ve reached that age, we’ve seen, experienced and done too much to not be tinged with red. This doesn't mean that I haven't met any good people. There are many good people walking this earth, contrary to popular belief. They come in different shades of violet and blue-violet. I'm glad to say that I see them daily among the reds.

Today, though, I ran into someone. Well, it’s more like they ran into me. They came barreling into me out of nowhere from among the crowd. I'm a small woman, so I went flying, hitting the ground hard. Thankfully, I had nothing to spill. My tailbone wasn't too happy though.

“I am so sorry, miss!” said a male voice.

I looked up at the man. he was holding out a hand to me with an apologetic look on his face. And he was still talking, probably still apologizing, but I couldn't help but stare. He was an average-looking man, his appearance a bit dishevelled. He had a mess of brown curls atop his head and a face dotted with small red pimples. He was in need of a shave, with a five o’clock shadow going across his face and down the underside of his chin. He had nice teeth though. They were straight and clean and so were his short nails. He wore a slightly oversized t-shirt and jeans and smelled faintly of fabric softener. A battered grey messenger bag hung off his shoulder.

His appearance was not what stalled me. It was his aura. his bright blue-like-the-sky aura.

In the midst of my shock, I didn't remember taking his hand and him pulling me up to stand. I came back to the present as he awkwardly patted me on the shoulder, still apologizing and then off he went, once again almost running through the crowd of people. I watched him go, his blue aura shining bright amongst the sea of purple. I looked on until I could no longer see him.

I gripped the strap of my shoulder bag tightly. I looked around at the violets and blue violets at the red violets and darker. I was worried. For the first time in my life, my sight failed me. A blue adult does not exist. I stand by that. I glanced back in the direction the man went.

So how do I explain him?

MY HUSBANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD LOVE HIM SM

🖊

!!!!! hi thank you this made my dayyyyy

okay okay okay okay so

ima rant about my boy Escher (from The Soulrobbers) bc I can and even though im not writing his series rn one of my rps involves him so im kinda autistic about him (note from future: there will be a lil tangent about his bestie Asa oops)

I find it very fascinating how he's evolved since I created him; he went from being an absolute clone of one of my other, very smol characters, Rhys (The Gift and the Ghostspeaker) to kinda the male gladiator version of Luna Lovegood but with a lil psycho side to....what he is rn, which is basically a sassy mischief boi with an intense fear of death and a lil bit of a sadistic side!! which is to be expected when you grow up in an arena but yk we love him for it

this last change was actually very recent and kinda strange bc he kinda stole a few characteristics (like the fear of death) from another character from his story, Asa, but kept the same general personality? (cue me having an idea about Escher being Asa's foil cough um anyway)

he also has wind powers (most of the characters in TSR do but still) and a lovely whirlwind/dust devil motif in my plans for him which mmmm i love that for him and oh the things i can do with him thematically bc of thissssssssssss

i need to draw him man

I also changed his name very recently too so if a certain someone sees this and goes 'wait isnt that just Ian' yeah that's just Ian

@yourinnerhealthplus hi have a rant about your husband <3

I have had an incredibly long day and just got home from a karaoke night with friends.

But chapter five and six of my fanfic The One And Only Ouroboros are out on Wattpad!!! Please check it out it would mean the world to me!!!

Chapter three of my fanfic titled The One and Only Ouroboros on Wattpad is now out at 06:08

Yay!!!

Also I recently read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton and for fun I wrote a fic of a part of the book in Johnny’s perspective

If you don’t want spoilers scroll!

It’s about Johnnys death, it’s short, only around two thousand words but should I post it on Wattpad?