#this is the shortest one but I'm splitting it by time stamp so! oh well!

[natsu-tte-noodle]

Lounge Chronicles - 5:08 AM

(This is something I’ve been writing on and off whenever I get super hit by writer’s block--I thought it might be fun to post it in snippets here before uploading the whole thing to AO3 once it’s done :D enjoy)

Tsuzuru poured his third cup of coffee and plugged his laptop into the wall of the lounge.  Damn outlet on his side of the room for needing to be fixed.  Damn Masumi for wanting a working light in their room.  Damn humidifier, taking up the last available plug in his room when he had a paper due by the end of the day and a laptop battery in desperate need of replacing.

He could only praise the heavens that today was Sunday, and it was Summer and Winter using the practice rooms today, and his current part time job was closed for renovations.  It was a once-in-a-blue-moon day that Tsuzuru didn’t have 800 other obligations to attend to.  He was grateful to be able to completely waste it on this 8,000 word essay.

At this hour, there wasn’t a soul awake in the dorms; not even Itaru stayed up this late if there wasn’t an event with one of his absolute favorite characters, and from what Tsuzuru could gather none were currently running.  Briefly, he glanced at his phone, wondering if he should check out Pocket Kniroun for the first time in almost a year.  Ultimately, though, he decided he had to at least get started before he started falling for distractions.

For once, he had actually just woken up, opting to get up incredibly early instead of staying up incredibly late.  Of course, that didn’t mean he hadn’t stayed up pretty late anyway, hence the third cup of coffee already, but.  Small improvements.

Copy-pasting the cover page format from a previous essay for the same class, he quickly adjusted the information to fit the new assignment, typed out “INSERT TITLE HERE,” and punched the enter key until the cursor moved down to page 2.  Time to write.

…tiiiime to write.

…any day now.

Tsuzuru buried his face in his arms, muffling his groan so as to not wake anyone.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t a code red situation yet.  He still had, what.  18 hours and 46 minutes before this thing was due?  He could spare a little bit of time wasting.  Maybe a mental workout to get his brain juices working.  (He made a mental note to never say “brain juices” again.)

He opened a new word document and started drafting out a backstory for the guy who sweeps the steps in Nocturnality.