Chapter Text
[ TWO YEARS EARLIER ]
HIS LIFE WASN’T ANYTHING EXTRAORDINARY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. He woke up, brushed his teeth, drank a cup of coffee (two sugars and one cream), went to do some writing or maybe scroll on social media every once in a while. However, if you asked literally anyone else, his life is the most extraordinary one out there.
Parrot Exstu is basically a household name to anyone who has read anything in the past decade. His first two books have sold millions and millions of copies across the globe, with over 23 translations, with book three releasing just a couple days ago. The PERSONA series was actually so popular that an animated show is scheduled to start production in early 2XXX, with himself directing the creative process. It’s truly any author’s dream to be in this position, and he could not be any more grateful. Unless you are stuck in a writer’s block for the past couple months.
He sighed as pushed up his square glasses, staring blankly into his bright laptop screen as the rain outside his window pitter-pattered against the glass in front of him, wearing a dark green hoodie on the chilly space. He was in his office, attempting to start on the last book of his beloved series, but he just couldn't do it.
Parrot ran a hand through his silky light brown hair, groaning slightly, his eyes scanning the contents on his desk. A stack of notebooks was right next to his laptop on the right, all holding the very first drafts of each book he has ever written. The window in front of him had many different pieces of paper taped onto the glass, with some including character designs, skylines of his fictional city, and other bits and pieces of art he had drawn to visualize the entire area. A potted plant sat on the left of the laptop, green and flourishing with life. His planning note-book was opened onto a detailed summary of the past three books, his handwriting small and rushed. Some parts were either crossed out, drawn over with red pen, or completely covered up with sticky notes and rewritten. His sketch book was hanging hazardly over the edge of the desk, an unfinished sketch of Void sitting on the roof of some building on that page. Still nothing.
Inspiration hits where you least expect it to, and Parrot knows that full well. He can still remember the day when he suddenly got the idea for this book series, and it was a quite unremarkable day as well. His nineteen-year-old self was extremely stupid — now looking back — and decided to hit up a convenience store in the middle of the night for a snack. On the way to said convenience store, he walked past a newly opened comic store (that was closed) with a new colorful superhero comic poster on the window. He didn’t know why he stopped in front of it to take a closer look.
The poster was your typical comic-style superhero drawing, with the main character in front doing a silly pose while the other side characters were smaller and wrapped around the main hero. Parrot never quite remembered the name, but while staring at that specific poster, his gears started turning. That is when a loud bang came from a building made him turn back and return home, but he also could not forget that poster for a night.
That night became two, and the two nights became three, and three nights became four. By the fifth night, he realized that the poster he saw had turned into a full-blown story-plot of treacherous betrayal, death, friendship, and superpowers. His mother always told him that he had a very imaginative mind as a child, and it had always carried with him no matter where he went.
His first protagonist is Flame Frags, a newly recruited hero prodigy under the name Inferno, who was assigned to undercover the mysteries of the Invisible Mafia. But with each clue, battle, and evidence they found caused more questions than answers, this led down a rabbit hole of loss, betrayal, hope, and working with unlikely allies.
Before he knew it, a year had gone by, and he was convinced by his parents that it would be a great idea to find an editor and publisher so his book could have a chance at entering the mainstream. Parrot agreed (under a lot of bribes), and sent an editor under a random popular label a final draft, which at the time he wasn’t the most confident with his writing. Turns out, the label absolutely loved his book, and they were able to publish the book a couple months later. And the public absolutely loved it.
He was immediately being sent interviews, fanart, theories, and so much love from everyone that made his heart all soft, and it pushed him even more to work on the second book, then the third, which is where we ended up now.
For the past four years that he had worked on this, he had his ups and downs with the entire plot, character designs, and the general gist of the tale. Does he want this beloved side character to die, or should he let them live? What should exactly happen at this scene, and how does it contribute to the overall plot? And arguably the most important question, how should this plotline end?
That last question was the one that he was stuck on most of the time unfortunately, and he does have quite a few good ideas on how it should all wrap up. The problem is, that none of the options felt right. They were all either too vague, too much death, or just not satisfying enough to end everything off.
Parrot hummed as he cracked his neck while gazing at the gloomy, raining sky right outside his window. PERSONA: MALEVOLENT was only published a couple days ago, and the hype was immense and kinda overwhelming. He still doesn’t really get why Wemmbu is the most popular character, but alas everyone has their favorite. Personally, his favorite protagonist is actually Spoke, an extremely chaotic vigilante that gets up to silly shenanigans all the time, but he is fiercely loyal to his friends.
Now that he looks back, it’s actually quite wild that he ended up here. His very first book turned out to be a massive hit, and the ones that followed were all so successful too, and he could not be more grateful. But with all of that comes this ticking pressure, a coil in his chest that grows tighter and tighter each day. He still enjoys writing, but the worry that if he releases the end, people will absolutely hate it because it did not live up to their standards, or he fucks up the entire plot line and ends his writing career right there and then.
Parrot leans back on his chair, groaning loudly. Gosh, he needed some dinner, maybe even a drink.
—
[ EXCERPT FROM PERSONA BOOK TWO: AMBIVALENT, CHAPTER 1 ]
The most feared, mysterious, and dangerous vigilante of Unstable City worked as a coffee house employee. I know right, so cliche. But it has its benefits.
First, basically free coffee anytime as long as you make it yourself. Comes in extreme clutch when it’s the middle of the night and you need something to drink. Second, free coffee also means you have a bargaining tool. Spoke could not even count the amount of times he got information just by giving the other party free coffee. Lastly, no one ever expects an underpaid employee as a vigilante most of the time.
“Welcome to Speakis Coffee House! How may I help you?” Spoke cheered, way too early in the morning for this kind of energy. His best friend, Mapicc, is currently hunched over the coffee machine, looking like a dead zombie with the amount of tired groans he gave out this morning. The red-eyed half demon wore a black t-shirt with a brown apron over it that was worse for wear. It is kinda ugly in Spoke’s opinion but he couldn’t judge. He is wearing the exact same thing too.
“A medium iced americano.” The customer said gruffly, slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change.”
‘Rude.’ Spoke thought as he watched the guy saunter to a table. ‘Literally no one has any respect for service workers these days.’
“Mapicc, one hot americano please.” Spoke huffed, putting the cash into the register. His reply was a sleepy yes and the hiss of the coffee machine.
—
[ ONE YEAR LATER, A YEAR BEFORE RELEASE DATE ]
His home is pretty regular, a one story apartment on the sixth floor, right next to a sprawling lakeside. The rain had cleared up after a day or two, causing a sorta glow to the plants as the sunlight hit the lush glass and trees. The water was a sparkling blue color too, brimming with fish and life from all different directions. He was sitting next to the lakeside, wearing just a white t-shirt and jeans, staring up to the clouds above.
He lived on the outskirts of a sprawling city, in an area more quiet and reclusive so he could save the headache of the loud cars zooming past the streets every day. Unstable City was actually inspired by it, with tall skyscrapers and chatty people. Oh, and the crime as well.
Most of his setting comes from the places he has been, like the Speakis Coffee House is inspired by a family run cafe down the street that has probably the best hot chocolate Parrot ever had. Or the hero tower, inspired by the tallest skyscraper in the city.
A year has gone by, and so far this has been the longest inspiration block he had. Nothing sparked his creative mind, and his motivation just… disappeared. Parrot didn’t know why of course, it just slowly faded out but by bit to the point where he can’t even remember the last time he sat in this office chair.
Kind of a depressing thought if you think about it.
The once bright, young writer now can’t even pick up a pencil.
Is it all really worth it?
Why am I so unmotivated to write?
Should I, should I discontinue the series?
That last question has been the one circulating around his brain the most.
If he can’t find the motivation to write, make a perfect ending, or just feel satisfied, then why is he still here?
The endless sky is so vast, yet so restricting at the same time.
A gentle breeze blew against his pale skin as he sighed, putting his knees to his chest.
I can’t quit now.
Parrot scrunched up his nose as an idea popped into his mind. He immediately sat up and started jogging up the hill towards the sidewalk that led to his apartment complex.
I need inspiration, and what better inspiration is there than reading through my own books?
He fumbles with his steps as he races towards the elevator door, using his keycard to unlock the ride.
I can’t quit now because I came too far, too far to go back, too far for all of my progress to get wasted.
The elevator door dings as it reaches his floor, and Parrot bursts out, taking long strides towards his home.
He opens his front door to his living room, where a stack of books sit on his brown coffee table. He closes the door behind him as he takes a mental note to buy another bookshelf later.
Parrot grabs his thick, leather notebook that contains the entire final draft of his third book. He ran his fingers against the leather lettering, taking in the bird design in the front. He sat on the floor, his back leaning against his clean white couch.
Here goes nothing, I suppose.
He flips open the first page before a sudden gust of wind flies past his head.
Wait, wind?
The pages of the book in his hands suddenly start flipping themselves, faster and faster as the wind grew stronger with each turn. Parrot widens his eyes as stares in absolute shock at the sight in front of him.
The pages turn faster and faster, a blinding white light shining from the words that he wrote.
Parrot closes his eyes shut as the light got brighter, the world spinning frantically around him, the sound of paper against paper-
Then, it stopped.
And he was gone.
—
[ EXCERPT FROM PERSONA BOOK ONE: VALIANT, CHAPTER 32 ]
So what if the enemy is stronger, taller, and more experienced than him? So what if the villain has the power to create an illusion of your worst nightmares? So what if the enemy destroyed hundreds of buildings?
They are still human like the heroes.
Flame watches Gambit sprint away, his long purple hair flowing behind him, radiating from the screaming flames. Red-hot blood seeps through the black fabric of his hero costume, coming from a burning wound on his right shoulder. Every part of his body was screaming to chase the villain, but he could not move a single inch.
He could not erase the broken sobs that still lingered in his ears.
Perhaps he dug a rabbit hole that he could not have gotten out of. Perhaps this interaction was nothing more than a fight. Perhaps Gambit just likes causing destruction.
But in the villain’s files, Gambit has never killed a single innocent soul.