Post by mim on May 27, 2015 20:03:07 GMT
Hi all! SO, NOT ALL OF US CAN DRAW FABULOUSLY. D': But most of us can write to some extent, no? 
So, I'm showing my lame attempts at fanfics, feel free to upstage me, let's all work together to create fanfics for cutesiness! (Oh the atrocities of spelling).
So, I'm happy to write for you guys, just tell me your characters name, who you aiming for, if your character works specifically in any area, personality (if you want), and I'll do it for free! Or you could write your own for any reason! Yay for collaboration!
(No judgment, kk? xxx)
--
For Keith :
---
It had been more than a long day for Keith. Honestly, there was only so much one could do within the allotted amount of time you had in a day. While days blended into one another, without true rhyme or reason, broken by the intermittent festival, Keith couldn’t help but break from the daily drudge of mining to feeding that random cat to picking up strawberries that sprung from the ground like magic (without anyone questioning it either) when he saw him.
Him.
It was a simple word, truly, a simple concept. The word simply specified a person of the masculine form. But the implication of drudge being broken for a single person meant a whole lot more. He watched him, first, and it was almost awkward how endearing the young man was- which made it all the more so- he liked chocolate, sea shells and being randomly given bottles of salad dressing, and in this town, one was expected one every day. Some would find that draining; others annoying.
In Keith’s case, it was endearing. (But then again, with Him, everything was.)
He had a sick sister. He had been cooking for years. His bakery wasn’t always easy to manage by himself. He walked to the beach on Monday afternoons. He would spend Monday mornings making cooking shows for the less inclined and attempting to make up his mind at buying a new spice rack, though he never did. He worked from 11 o’clock all days save Monday until late afternoon. He paid well for part-timers.
His hair was always a little messy. His manners slightly too polite.
Noticing all of this would have made Keith seem odd in most scenarios, but…He seemed to notice too.
Noticing him putting coins in the fountain every day, though nothing came of it. Noticing that winning streak of lockball that he studiously downplayed. Noticing the crops, the mining, and the coming in every day, exhausted, to bring a present, though he obviously needed to sit down and have a drink.
Keith wouldn't say much. Just smile, and listen. And, that was enough for him.
So, after festivals, those mostly-one-sided conversations, running into each other on the beach enough times, and handing sea shells along, He finally decided it wasn't enough.
Keith went into the bakery, seeing him, ready to hand over his latest chocolate scored from the hospital.
But He smiled instead.
“Ah! You’re a little early today…” Because the stir-fry meant for Keith hadn’t been finished yet. The words for his confession hadn’t been finalized yet.
It didn’t matter. Keith saw it anyway.
And he knew what Sparrow was finally feeling, that Keith had felt all along.
So, I'm showing my lame attempts at fanfics, feel free to upstage me, let's all work together to create fanfics for cutesiness! (Oh the atrocities of spelling).So, I'm happy to write for you guys, just tell me your characters name, who you aiming for, if your character works specifically in any area, personality (if you want), and I'll do it for free! Or you could write your own for any reason! Yay for collaboration!
(No judgment, kk? xxx)
--
For Keith :
---
It had been more than a long day for Keith. Honestly, there was only so much one could do within the allotted amount of time you had in a day. While days blended into one another, without true rhyme or reason, broken by the intermittent festival, Keith couldn’t help but break from the daily drudge of mining to feeding that random cat to picking up strawberries that sprung from the ground like magic (without anyone questioning it either) when he saw him.
Him.
It was a simple word, truly, a simple concept. The word simply specified a person of the masculine form. But the implication of drudge being broken for a single person meant a whole lot more. He watched him, first, and it was almost awkward how endearing the young man was- which made it all the more so- he liked chocolate, sea shells and being randomly given bottles of salad dressing, and in this town, one was expected one every day. Some would find that draining; others annoying.
In Keith’s case, it was endearing. (But then again, with Him, everything was.)
He had a sick sister. He had been cooking for years. His bakery wasn’t always easy to manage by himself. He walked to the beach on Monday afternoons. He would spend Monday mornings making cooking shows for the less inclined and attempting to make up his mind at buying a new spice rack, though he never did. He worked from 11 o’clock all days save Monday until late afternoon. He paid well for part-timers.
His hair was always a little messy. His manners slightly too polite.
Noticing all of this would have made Keith seem odd in most scenarios, but…He seemed to notice too.
Noticing him putting coins in the fountain every day, though nothing came of it. Noticing that winning streak of lockball that he studiously downplayed. Noticing the crops, the mining, and the coming in every day, exhausted, to bring a present, though he obviously needed to sit down and have a drink.
Keith wouldn't say much. Just smile, and listen. And, that was enough for him.
So, after festivals, those mostly-one-sided conversations, running into each other on the beach enough times, and handing sea shells along, He finally decided it wasn't enough.
Keith went into the bakery, seeing him, ready to hand over his latest chocolate scored from the hospital.
But He smiled instead.
“Ah! You’re a little early today…” Because the stir-fry meant for Keith hadn’t been finished yet. The words for his confession hadn’t been finalized yet.
It didn’t matter. Keith saw it anyway.
And he knew what Sparrow was finally feeling, that Keith had felt all along.
