#program is decent so far but there's definitely things I HATE about it

[funeralgrove]

First completed art on my new tablet and done in ibis paint instead of medibang

Still figuring out how this program and am totally disappointed in the bluring tool and lack of gradients, so those are things I'm having to learn to work around. Not too mad about how this turned out, though ^^;

Character is my oc Mallory. :]

[0xeff]

A call for help (again).

I'll start with a preface. I hate making these kinds of posts. I know that there are some of you who are getting quite sick of seeing them, and believe me when I say I'm sick of writing them.

This past month, my income has been severely limited due to factors in my employer's life. To the point where I've not made much, and can't afford my portion of the rent. Nor a present for my mother's birthday.

I've attempted other avenues this month for income. I've searched for jobs in my area of expertise, and I've been ghosted and denied at nearly every turn. I've applied for Ontario Works, and got denied due to the fact that I'm living with my mother, who is on Disability and my grandmother, who is on Old Age Pension. I'm appealing this decision, naturally, because I think that it's bullshit. This appeal however, will not go through before my rent is due.

I've put forward an application for ODSP, my province's disability support program. I have a very decent chance of getting accepted eventually, due to my severe ADHD and various symptoms of Autism that impact my daily life, and make it supremely difficult for me to hold down a stable job. I only managed to get my ADHD meds yesterday, I've been off of them for most of this month due to budget constraints. While I'm reasonably sure I'll be accepted, the process is still long and arduous.

I'm a very private person, as many of you may already know. I don't like talking about what's going on in my life even among many of my close friends. I struggle a lot to write these words now, asking for help time and time again. I know it will get better, and I have to hold on to that hope that it will, but I do need support. I want to be able to repay the kindness of this community. I want to be able to do what I am passionate about, and that's making cool things for all of you, who've been such an important and positive part of my life. This community is, well and truly, my hyperfixation.

If you can at all spare something, or share my plight to those who can, I would appreciate it greatly. I always do, and the support you've all given me so far has been nothing short of life-changing. I'm trying my hardest to do right by all of you, despite my issues.

In other news, dev stream later today (On the MxRP Official Discord Server). I don't know an exact time yet, or what specifically I'll be working on, but I'll definitely be doing something.

[misc-obeyme]

I'm doing a lot of job searching right now and oh my Diavolo does it suck. I hate that most companies don't seem to at least give you a courtesy email saying they're passing on you.

How do you think job searches in the Devildom would be? How's the job market there? Is it better or worse than here?

I feel like they have an okay job market but I really don't know for sure. Are they gonna count job experience from the human world or only from the Devildom? There's just so many questions I have.

Honestly, I should just ask Solomon to help find a spell to make a literal money tree 🥲

~ Solomon🤍

I can tell you right now that I would be going the money tree route, if that's at all an option.

Job hunting is the absolute worst. You have to apply for hundreds of jobs and then you might get like a handful of responses. It's because they have those stupid software programs now that filter out resumes that don't contain the correct terms they're looking for. Not to be old, but I remember the days when you had to go in person and fill out an application on a piece of paper that you then brought back to someone lol. Okay, that does make me sound super old. Moving on!

As with the human world, I think having connections is likely going to be helpful in the Devildom. If we're considering an MC looking for a job, I can guarantee they are likely to get just about any job they apply for. Because everybody knows MC and nobody wants to get on the bad side of Diavolo or Lucifer or any of the others.

Similarly, I would suspect that if MC wanted a job, all they'd have to do is ask one of those demons and that demon will be able to find them something pretty easily.

But if we're looking at it without MC privilege, then I think it's probably easier to get a job in the Devildom.

This is going to depend on what you imagine their population to be. But I've always headcanoned that while there are a decent amount of demons in the Devildom, there are far less of them than there are humans. Less competition means more available jobs. Less candidates means less of a need to filter out hundreds of resumes a day. Your resume might actually be looked at by an actual demon, rather than tossed out by the software, you know?

If you're a human, I definitely think human world experience would count. Say you're looking for a job as a barista. I imagine the methods of making coffee in the Devildom are similar to how it's made in the human world. You might need to learn to make little tweaks here and there, but if you know the basics of how to make coffee, that's going to help you perform your job. Any hiring demon should be able to see that!

There might be a bit of prejudice involved in hiring a human, though. If you aren't protected as MC, then demons might not want to hire some random human. I doubt there are equal opportunity employers for humans in the Devildom. I just don't think they ever needed to make laws about that.

For a demon, it might be a little different. Like if prejudice against humans is a thing, they won't have to worry about it. And all of their experience would be from the Devildom, so they might have that as an advantage.

However this is the Devildom. And I don't think you'd necessarily need to settle for the same kind of job that you might get in the human world. By this I mean, you could decide to put your magical skills to use and sell potions or something. Maybe you're really good at procuring unusual ancient scrolls and then make a tidy profit off of selling them. You wouldn't need to apply for jobs like that, you'd be working for yourself. And I guarantee no demon is gonna look twice if you're not paying taxes and instead selling them stuff under the table. (I feel like Mammon is rubbing off on me now.)

But anyway, those are my general thoughts! Job hunting really does suck, but I hope you find something soon! Good luck!!

[starlite-writes]

can you tell us more about dr silk and dr tussah?

Sure! Putting it under the cut since it got a little long.

Dr Adaliah Silk (formerly Elysia Soros) is the head of the Aether Research Institute and the public face of IGORA as a whole, as I've said before. She has two doctorate degrees (astrophysics and computer science) and a master's in aerospace engineering! All in all, she's a very pragmatic and intelligent woman who is often seen as friendly and helpful despite actually being the epitome of corporate coldness. She's also quite curious about the possibility of alternate realities!

She has a couple of AIs she's programmed for various reasons! Their names are Azalea (her admin), Tocelyn (her personal assistant/pet fox), Maximilian (speech/language pathologist). She also has Del (space exploration), Tey (repair), and Sar (repair), who all belong to @packedlunchmeat!

All of her children hate her, with the exception of Azalea and Tocelyn. She's a bad mother (not a maternal bone in her body). Most of her kids have been kidnapped at least once.

Silk is one of those people who really likes to bully the people under her but in the way of like. she pretends she's just playing or it's an inside joke. For example, on April Fool's Day, she pays her interns in Monopoly money. Objectively not funny to the person missing out on a day's worth of pay, but hilarious to her.

Silk has three siblings! They're named Lysander (who works as IGORA's lawyer), Valeria (a history teacher), and, of course, Dr Tussah.

And Dr Caspian Tussah (formerly Aurelius Soros) is the head of the Nautilus Research Institute! He's more seen than heard, because he's not as good at the whole. politics thing. He's really just here to study fish! He has two doctorates (marine biogeochemistry and computer science) and a master's in oceanography.

Tussah is typically thought of as the hardass out of the two, but he's actually not. He's not soft, but he's definitely nicer (potentially attributed to his better work-life balance lol). The bar was on the floor, though. He has a pretty decent relationship with most of his employees but he's also prone to outbursts of violence (namely hitting people across the shins with his cane).

He's got a few AIs of his own! They are August and Tenebris, and they're both medical AIs. August is the sole surviving AI from the Coelacanth disaster (and that's a whole story on its own, honestly). He probably has more by this point but I can't remember them right now 😭

Tussah also did the physical designs for all of Silk's programs! He's an artist. Silk doesn't care about aesthetics but her brother very much does. If not for Tussah, all of Silk's AIs would be just. blobs or stick figures. The only one she designed was Tocelyn, by way of origami.

Silk's birthday is May 30th, and she's 38 years old! Tussah's is July 3rd and he's 36! They don't tell people they're siblings and keep it a secret, so there are a lot of bets around the office about if they're siblings, lovers, or old friends.

If you've made it this far, thanks! You might be interested to know that they both have... complicated relationships with two Very Notorious red and blue coded viruses. :)

If you think you know who they are... you're probably right!

[neganium]

The last couple of years I was in elementary, there was this reading program where you tested on the books you'd read (this is not the other thing whose name escapes me, tho that was Also a thing fairly early on when I was in school, but I'm not sure it still was by then; this was a school-specific thing I think), and if you did well enough you'd get a prize: watch the teachers compete in some kinda year-end event. When I was in fourth grade, it was a baseball game; fifth grade, a go-cart race.

I didn't really care about the prize in fourth grade, but I did complete the requisite reading testing- mostly bc my teacher for that class was willing to work with me, and also encouraged me in the first place when again, kinda didn't give a shit. Pretty glad she did; I think we got snacks at the event. Also, she kinda saved me from the other fate; the one that they absolutely did not tell us about.

Now, aside from pretty plainly stating that us not participating in the program was us being "lazy", which is really fucking rude, in hindsight; the implication was merely that we would not get rewarded if we failed to meet the arbitrary goal. My fourth grade teacher probably knew better, and wanted to spare the students that weren't cutting it from something unpleasant.

My fifth grade teacher was kind of a stuck-up bitch, tho, and probably didn't give a shit about those of us she didn't personally like (as a suspected autistic kid, socially awkward and at the time starting to struggle under an increased workload, I almost definitely did not fit that description). At least, that's what it feels like to me, looking back on things

My fourth grade teacher encouraged us to test, set aside time for us, let us read things lower than our grade level- bc I liked to read what I actually wanted to read, dammit. My fifth grade teacher most likely thought us lazy, didn't set aside time for us, and complained if we tried to read under our grade level bc it would bring lower scores- and being an idiot in many ways, it's not like I could figure out a decent time to test on these books, myself. I needed direction for a lot of things (I still do, frankly, or else I'm kind of lost). Mainly I kind of lacked the initiative to simply ask for time to test.

Thus, I naturally failed to meet the goal. This is where the really shitty part comes in: I had assumed, mainly bc nobody said anything otherwise (other than the comments about laziness, that is), that we simply wouldn't get rewarded with watching the go-cart race. But no, instead, those of us that failed to pass their arbitrary muster were gathered up into the library with some of our text books, set far apart from each other so that we could not instigate any form of communication, and made to read whatever textbooks we happened to bring.

In short, we weren't simply deprived of a reward; that, at least, I would have understood. But rounding us up to punish us (for that was unambiguously what such treatment was for a group of elementary school students), something that, as far as I could tell, was never ever even implied, hurt like a son of a bitch. It was awful, and I'm still mad about it to this day. All because we wouldn't do their shitty tests. It wasn't even like I wasn't reading at all; I just wasn't testing bc most of the books were too low, and thus, I had no proof. Honestly that's more so a way to ensure a child fucking hates reading; luckily that never really happened to me. Still fucking hate them for it, tho.

Everyone give me the most screwed up thing that has ever happened to you in the american public school system

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ���Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: April 13th, 2021

And we’re back again with more replies so soon, haha. Thank you for the asks!

Your game literally saved me this hell ass year. Thank you so much for the most perfect piece of art I've ever laid eyes on 😫 ... Do you guys have a rough idea when step 3 DLC will be released? I hope I'm not coming off as rude. I just really really love your game.

I’m sorry for the late reply on this! You might’ve already seen the answer by now, but the Step 3 DLC is coming out on the 16th. We’re almost there :D

This may be a silly question but did Jeremy's parents ever find out that Pran had lied about his age and if so, when/how? :3

Pran came clean to them after a couple of years, when he felt secure enough that it wouldn’t ruin the relationship. The Kings were a little embarrassed, the dad more than the mom, but they’re quite good at brushing past those kind of mistakes so it was all water under the bridge pretty fast.

hi! i know you’ve answered a question about alterations in the our life moments by playing them in different orders, but i was wondering if there was a canon order that the moments for each step happen in? i figure with such a customizable game the “canon” timeline for the moments is whatever order the player completes them in, for example in step 1, i like playing the runaway moment pretty early, since cove trying to run away early in summer makes more sense to me personally. thanks!

Yeah, there’s no canon order we’d insist on. Whatever you like can be the official route for you! And that’s a neat way to look at that event.

What if your character isn’t that into physical contact but still wants to be in a relationship with Cove? Would he be offended if you shy away or something along those lines?

He wouldn’t be. Cove knows how hard that can be and is very understanding. If you set his initiative to low, the game always checks to make sure if you want to be touched or not rather than assuming that you do. And if you do choose that you don’t want to, there’s no stress or drama about it. Cove will just say that’s okay!

Hellu! First off, I want to thank you all for such a wonderful game, it's been the best feel-good game I've ever stumbled upon and I can't express enough how much it has meant to me. Second, I've seen lots of people having trouble with making Cove confess before MC which makes me wonder if people will have the same problem in the dlc when you can propose to him. Is it possible to post a guide for that as well when it no longer could count as a spoiler? Again, thanks for such a beautiful game <3

I’m really happy you had such a nice time with it c:. We’ll answer questions about it on tumblr/in the discord if they come up and, if need be, we’ll find somewhere to upload a guide.

Do we get steam key from buying dlc on itch io?

I’m afraid not. That’d be unfair to those who get it on Steam. Plus, Steam isn’t super cool with giving out thousands of keys to be handed out for free on other sites anymore. They can refuse to give us the keys if they feel we’re trying to take advantage of their system.

hi! so if we reject cove's confession in step 3, can we still have MC and cove get together in step 4?

You can confess to him, yeah. But Cove won’t ever try confessing again if the MC turns him down in Step 3.

What if MC acts like someone Cove doesn't like, like Lizzie or Baxter lol

You can’t do what Lizzie or Baxter does to make Cove dislike them. You can play the game and try, but it doesn’t work out. The MC is just too compatible with Cove if you’re fond/crush/love, haha.

Hi! I absolutely love your game, I love the characters they’re all so amazing, thank you for the game haha

I was wondering if you would get the NSFW DLC no matter what Patreon level you were at, or if you would could get it at any level? :)

&

What pateron tier do we need to get the 18+ content for Our Life? It's my new favourite game, keep up the good work!

It will eventually be available at the $5 tier and anything above that! Glad you both like OL ^^

On a scale from 1 (being the worst) to 10, how well do the XOXO jerk squad including JB handle horror?

JB: 8

Everett: 5

Nate: 4

Shiloh: 10

Bae: 10

Jeremy: 8 for non-gore horror, 2 for gory horror

Pran: 9

hello!! i was wondering if any of the boys from the Jerksquad would ever wear a skirt/dress?

None of them wear skirts/dresses out of personal preference. But if there was some kind of reason where they had to do it, none would be that bothered.

How does the jerk squad feel about Christmas? 

Everett: He fucking loves it. That’s the best time of year.

Nate: Commercialized nonsense.

Shiloh: It’s wonderful! So he claims.

Bae: He likes it quite a bit, but only for the joy it brings children/family. He thinks that’s sweet but is too mature to be whipped up into a festive fervor himself.

Jeremy: It’s awful.

Pran: He hates it.

does cove have any pet allergies? yes I know this is a little weirdly specific

He doesn’t! The lucky boy isn’t allergic to any animal.

Very important question: Would Lee and a musical-theatre loving MC run around belting Into The Unknown from Frozen 2? Because I feel that they would 

Probably, haha.

This might seem like a dumb question, so I’m sorry, but with the Derek DLC are we gonna get to hang out with him in person instead of just calling him in step 3? 

The Derek DLC adds events in Step 2 and Step 4. It’s part of his story that you don’t really get to be around him in Step 3. But you don’t need to apologize for wondering!

hello! i'd like to ask if it's possible to play the android version of the game with the dlcs after buying the dlcs from steam. i wasn't expecting my android version to have my dlcs since i bought them from steam, but it had my step 2 dlc for some reason. is this a glitch or does the apk actually detect what dlcs you already have on your pc? if so, how come i don't have the step 1 dlc appearing on android? thanks!

That is some kind of glitch. It isn’t possible for the Android DLCs to be unlocked by having them on PC. Maybe in one of the old builds we accidentally didn’t lock the Step 2 DLC properly. Sorry for the confusion!

Does Derek and Baxter have canon sexualities? Will Derek still flirts with the MC regardless of their gender?

They’re both pansexual and can like the MC regardless of what gender they have.

I was wondering if Miranda had a crush on Cove in Step 3? I'm not sure why, but I got those vibes from her?

She thinks of him only as a friend. Cove isn’t her type, haha.

This is probably a dumb hope, but I hope Cliff find someone he loves after Cove is grown up and everything. Or at the very least he has someone he's very close with after Cove leaves. 

That’s a really sweet thought to have. Cliff stays single, but he’s graysexual and not-particularly romantically inclined. He only dated when he was really young ‘cause that’s what everyone did. Family and friend relationships are more important to him, and he has plenty of that in his life ^^.

Heya! I was curious if there might be a nickname system in N&F? I kind of pull an Elizabeth when I play and choose a different variation of a name like having Rosie in step one and changing it to Rose in step two, then maybe Rosetta in step three for example, but it also feels a little bit odd being scolded using my nickname hehe. That's all I was wondering about, thank you for your time and the wonderful games!

We are hoping to include the option to go by a nickname in Our Life: Now & Forever. But nothing has been programmed yet, so we can’t 100% guarantee it, haha.

Just curious, what would Liz's and Cove's relationship be if MC wasn't around? I feel like they wouldn't get along as well as they do now, especially during the first and second step 

They’d definitely have a lot of friction growing up and they’d likely avoid each other as much as possible. Once they were both older, I imagine they’d be decent neighbor acquaintances. But they still wouldn’t be nearly as close as they are with the MC bringing Cove into things.

What do the customizable eyes look like in the game? Do they look as they are in the creating avatar section? Or do they look different when actually playing the game?

That’s up to you! The doll is just meant to be a general idea. You can apply it to your imagined MC as much or as little as you prefer.

Did Cove go through a "phase" during his adolescence? I don't really wanna headcanon it so I wonder if there's anything (cringy) canon since we missed out on the ages of 14-17 hahaha

Not really, aha. 14-17 Cove is pretty recognizable to his 13 and 18 year old self.

Hello! I'm sorry to bother you, especially with all the messages you get. I was just wondering if the religious wedding venue was exclusive to a church or if there will be different religions of weddings? Also, I love this VN so much, it's so well written and every character is so amazing, thank you for making such a beautiful game.

The church is treated as a historic building rather than anything actively religious, but it’s not the only option like that. There’s a historic synagogue and stuff too! And that’s really nice of you to say <3.

How differently would it play out If MC told their moms about the 20$ deal back when it happened? 

They wouldn’t have been happy and would’ve been far more skeptical of Cliff, aha. But they wouldn’t want to keep Cove away from the MC, so it wouldn’t have been too different in the long run.  

Hello may I ask what Cove's favorite fudge/ice cream flavor would be? Its alright if its not answered 

He appreciates them all, but his top favorites would be the fruit flavored ones and the ones with nuts.

Hi! I really wanted to make mc's house in a game and tried really hard to figure out the floor plan, but I wondered if you have the floor plan of the mc's house so that i can try again with more accuracy?

Thank you a lot for this game, i loved it a lot! (my first play took me 8 hours lol)

I’m really sorry, we don’t have anything like that. But at least you can headcanon that what you did is correct and nothing can prove it wrong, haha.

Hello,I recently started playing lake of voices (I put it off for a long while since I’m usually not very good with horror) and I’m really happy I did!I’m a big fan of your games in general and lake of voices was absolutely great as well.I loved the characters and the dark setting of it,I adored the beautiful art and music and the story was great too,sometimes unsettling and sometimes very sweet.My favorite Route in the game was definitely Lu,I liked his character and was really shocked and distraught by his Route at least two times.I didn’t see the plot twist(s) coming at all!

Besides these ramblings I’ve also wanted to ask if you still remember how to get the lower two CGs on page 5?I seem to always miss them and would appreciate any help.Anyways I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother and I wish the devs a great day!:)

Thank you for all the kind words <3. You get those DLCs by going through the end of the Guide’s character path. You can use the guides on Steam to help you find it/reach the end!

—– —– —– —–

Thank you again for all of these questions :D

We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ   Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

[fatherofthemachines]

The thing about AI art is that you have to keep smashing the button over and over again until it makes the thing you want. This is of course nowhere near the amount of time and effort it takes to make human art, but despite what a lot of people on the internet will have you believe, it isn’t always just snapping a button either. And even when you do get something that looks decent, chances are you are going to have to go in and fix little details manually like the hands.

Also ChatGPT is kind of....meh as far as writing programs go in my opinion. I honestly wish it was better and I could jump ship to it because I hate the program I use now due to reasons you can read about on the pinned post for this blog, but so far ChatGPT hasn’t really been able to keep up with any of the other text and writing programs I like to use.

As far as a soul goes, this is honestly more of a Philosophy question. What one considers a “soul” is extremely objective. I feel like to answer that part of it we would have to have some clear definition of a soul that we can hold AI up to which we just....do not have. So the question if AI can ever bring a soul to it’s work is also a mystery since we don’t even know what a soul is in the first place or if it can be emulated convincingly. I guess in the end this is going to be one of the deciding factors and it is still very much up in the air.

How do you feel about AI art and ChatGPT?

Going to show my ignorance here, because honestly, I don't really see what the big deal is?

I'm not saying that the development of these projects is a good thing. I don't know enough to really comment one way or the other. But I know how angry a lot of content creators are getting about this, and it just doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I get the idea in theory, how it steals work from writers and artists. And maybe that's happening. That could be a problem, a huge problem even. I won't presume to know the situation.

But given the limited nature of artificial intelligence, I don't see a great migration coming.

ChatGPT can't be much more advanced than other AIs, and an AI writing passages for us is a concept that already existed, leading to great moments like Harry Potter and The Portrait of What Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash. If you've not read that yet, go check it out. It's hilarious. But you know, it's only hilarious because it's so clearly "off." It doesn't sound natural, because it was never going to. Computers may be good at mimicking humans but they still don't have a soul, and in creative writing, that's going show itself. Nah, I predict the most common use of ChatGPT is going to be teenagers using a machine to do their homework for them. Which isn't...good, I suppose, but it's not the end of the world either. People have been using Google Translate to do their Spanish homework for years. It's just a thing that happens sometimes.

As for AI Art, I mean, same thing applies. I've seen AI Art. John Oliver did a whole hilarious segment on it. AI Images aren't exactly perfect. I've seen them before, and there's always something a little "off" about them. Plenty of them don't get the instructions exactly right or otherwise cannot translate what you tell them to create, at least not perfectly. I've experimented with an AI art generator, just to see what all the fuss was about. Let me tell you, it could not make heads or tails of my request to depict "short middle eastern androgynous kid with heterochromia in hufflepuff robes cuddling a snow white cat." While not all requests are going to be quite so specific, I feel like this probably isn't a big deal? Best thing I got out of it, by far, was this image of the Cheshire Cat wielding a lightsaber.

(Which, by the way, my instructions for this one were "Cheshire Cat having a lightsaber duel with the Cat from Coraline," so. Even this one was lacking. I still love it though.)

I could very much be wrong, and it's possible I just need to shut my mouth. If there are artists and writers out there who could help me understand what I'm missing, please, I welcome the counterargument. But speaking as a budding writer myself...I dunno, I just feel like this isn't going to be as big a problem as people think it is. Maybe I've been watching too much Star Trek, but this feels like the first step toward the Holodeck simulators, and I wouldn't exactly call those immoral. (...Depending on you use them...) Like, this was an inevitable step as we move toward the future of AI, and while I do think AI is something we should always be careful about...this just didn't seem like a major leap to me.

[yoonpobs]

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (10)

(New update coming in and things are getting heated!!! I wonder how our lovely little group’s gonna handle it??)

Ch.1 / Ch.9 / Ch. 11

Chapter 10: Adrenaline Rush

Possible Schools:

Rosemary High

Skyline Academy

Angelwood Institute

Liberty High

Summerfield Academy

Clearwater Institute

A sigh passed through Adrien’s lips as he crossed out the last name on his list, matching it with the other failed attempts. He just didn’t understand. Why was it so hard to find Marinette’s school? All he needed to do was search for high schools in the area and ask the students at each school whether she attended or not. It seemed simple enough at the time, but now another week and a half has gone by, and he’s no closer to finding her than he was two weeks ago when he asked for her school name as Chat Noir. 

Adrien set his pencil down and rubbed a hand over his face. He could have sworn she said ‘Rosemary’ last time they talked, but that blonde guy insisted that there weren’t any new students there. Maybe he just hadn’t met her yet? No, that didn’t make any sense. School had already started by then. Adrien assumed the guy would notice if he suddenly had a new classmate. 

Ugh. If only he could visit her again.. Between patrol with his lady, akuma attacks, homework, and photoshoots, going out as Chat Noir to see Marinette was nearly impossible. He really needed to have a talk with Nathalie about getting more free time.

“Alya, Marinette is killing me!” 

Adrien glanced up from his paper- That’s right, he’s supposed to be working on his own school right now -just in time to see Lila wiping fake tears from her eyes as she walked into the classroom. Although they still had a good five or ten minutes before class started, she was the only who wasn’t currently seated at her desk, and judging by her greeting, Adrien was going to assume that she entered last on purpose.

“What!” Alya gasped, standing up from her desk to meet Lila halfway. “What did she do now?”

Lila sniffed and accepted the comforting hug that Alya offered. “She’s been sending me awful messages all week! Telling me she hates me and insulting me and that I should’ve just stayed in Italy where I belonged.”

Adrien shifted in his seat to hear the conversation better, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Another scheme to slander Marinette’s good name.. Why did Lila still feel the need to lie about her? The ravenette was gone, completely transferred to another school, too far to even breath about Lila’s fabrications. There was no reason to turn their classmates further against her. (if that was even possible at this point)

“She told you what?!” Alya blanched, pulling back to grab Lila’s shoulders. “I can’t believe her! wasn’t sabotaging the forms you needed to be class president enough? Why can’t she leave you alone!”

Adrien resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Now that lie had a reason to it. He knew first hand how thick those stacks of forms can be since he’s helped Marinette carry them a few times, and Lila was obviously too lazy or too unqualified (or both) to sift through all of that mess by herself. What Adrien didn’t understand about the lie, though, was why she had to drag Marinette into it. Again. Why not lie about feeling unwell? Or simply ask for time to adjust to the role that had practically been dumped onto her? Any of those excuses would not only have been easier to say, as they didn’t involve anyone but herself, but they probably would have been accepted just as wholly. So why? It was as though Marinette became a crutch for Lila, which he supposed made sense. Building onto a widely accepted lie would be much simpler than creating a million small lies, but it certainly came with a risk. For example, if Adrien were to, say, kick that crutch right out from under her, she would probably flounder around on the floor with no way to get back up again. 

This left Adrien with another important question: How was he going to do it? So far, his friends have been sticking to her like glue and taking in her words like they were given directly from the Bible. On top of that, Alya seems to have become Lila’s official guard dog. How was he supposed to work around that? Adrien couldn’t confront the brunette publicly, because Marinette was proof that that never ended well, and confronting Lila privately didn’t help either, because she would only blow him off again. No, he needed to focus on outing her to his classmates directly, but he also needed to be subtle about it. Which meant..

Which meant he’d have to beat her at her own game.

“That’s crazy!” Adrien piped up, plastering on a surprised and disgusted expression. “Can I see the texts?”

Lila and Alya turned to him, both equally shocked by his comment. He normally kept to himself during conversations about Marinette.

“Oh..” Lila blinked, gathering her thoughts. “I mean, of course! It’s just that.. they’re quite personal, you know.. She said some things that were close to home..”

“We completely understand.” Alya assured. 

“Completely,” Adrien agreed, “which is why I want to see how bad it is. Those texts can be considered harassment if you don’t feel safe.”

Alya frowned at him, but a spark arose in Lila’s eyes, one that was no doubt fueled by the thought of getting Marinette into trouble with the law. Adrien would never understand the hatred that Lila harbored for the ravenette, but he definitely knew how to use it to his advantage.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble!” The brunette said with feigned concern. “But.. if you think it will help..”

She made a show of tentatively pulling out her phone and handing it to Adrien. He wasted no time snatching it from her hands and pulling up the texting app. If she was giving him the phone, she most likely had a series of fake texts to back up her story. (and they would be fake. Marinette was too nice to outwardly insult or bully others. Besides, she wouldn’t have the time even if she wanted to, what with her new school, homework, and fashion designs that she needed to tend to.)

Sure enough, he found messages upon messages of insults under the contact name “Marinette”. Things like “You’re only a model because of Gabriel’s pity and charity programs”, “You made our school’s reputation so pathetic that I had to leave”, and “They’ll find out soon that you’re too stupid to be a decent class rep.” were only the tip of the iceberg. Adrien noted the fact that there weren’t any comments about Lila’s looks specifically- she probably couldn’t think of any insults like that herself, since she was obviously so fashionable -but other than, the texts appeared to be authentic.

That is, except for the phone number.

Adrien slid further into his desk and pulled out his own phone to unlock it. A swift comparison between the two contacts proved not only that they had different phone numbers for Marinette, but that the phone number used for the harassing texts was actually the phone number that Adrien had for Lila. She must have texted herself, then deleted the doubles to make it look like a regular conversation between two people. Adrien had to hand it to her, it was a clever set-up. 

But not clever enough.

“Wow, this is awful.” Adrien declared, ensuring that both girls along with a few of their other classmates could hear him. “I’m going to text Marinette about this right now. Do you mind if I copy the number from your phone to text her, though? Some of my contacts got deleted a while back.”

Lila’s eyes widened, and panic briefly flickered across her features. 

“O-Oh, um- you really don’t have to do that-” She tried to say as she reached for her phone. 

Adrien pulled it back up with a smile. “Oh, but I want to! We can’t let Marinette get away with things like this.”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Alya eagerly agreed. “Let him talk to her. That should really pack a punch for Marinette.”

Although the comment was a bit odd, Adrien nodded along, because as long as Alya was on his side, this plan should work perfectly. 

“I’m typing in the number to call right now.” He announced, quickly punching in each digit. His only regret in that moment was that he couldn’t see Lila’s expression as he got closer to ‘accidentally’ outing her. However, the sheer panic in her voice was still enough to make his smile widen to a grin.

“No, you can’t!” She nearly shrieked, lunging over Adrien for her phone. If the class’ eyes weren’t on them before, they definitely were now. 

“Don’t worry, Lila.” Adrien said innocently as he pressed ‘call’ on the number. “I won’t tell her that you gave me her number.”

As expected, Lila’s phone immediately began to ring. He watched as the blood drained from her features, and she scrambled to turn off the device before it could finish the first ring. It was a decent move, in his opinion, but that didn’t stop the class from staring at her with a mix of surprise, suspicion, and curiosity.

“What was that?” Alya asked, leaning forward to help Lila get off of Adrien, “Was your phone ringing?”

“No, no! It was- uhm -” Lila let out a nervous, little laugh.  It’d been so long since she had to fight for her lies to stick that she must have forgotten how to lie on the spot. What a shame.

“That was just a small sound my phone makes when it turns off.” She blurted out. “I must have forgotten to charge it last night.”

Adrien pressed “end” on his call- because obviously he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Lila’s phone off -and glanced around the classroom to gauge their reactions. Those closest to the conversation were warily watching the scene unfold with furrowed eyebrows, doubt clear on their expressions. The farther ones, however, nodded along with what Lila was saying. They probably hadn’t heard most of the conversation beforehand and therefore had no reason to question her. 

“Oh,” Alya said, accepting the bullcrap answer as always, “that’s not good. Do you want to use my charger in case you need your phone later?”

Lila offered a sweet smile, stray bits of her confidence floating back to her due to Alya’s reassurance. “Ah, I’m fine. I wouldn’t want to trouble you or anythi-”

A soft rumbling shook the ground, causing the Italian girl to trail off. Adrien turned to the window, his breath catching in his throat as his thumb instinctively brushed over his ring. Was now really the best time?

In the distance, a cloud of dust was rising into the air. He’d seen enough- and done enough -to know that only the mass destruction of buildings could create such a cloud, and the mayor hadn’t informed them of any pre-planned constructions.

“Yes!” Alya cheered, leaping down the classroom steps. Leave it to her to be the only one excited about another akuma attack. “Finally!  It feels like we haven’t had an akuma in weeks!”

“Alya, wait!” Nino called after her. He always hated her little escapades. 

“Don’t worry,” Adrien said as he stood up, “I’ll take care of her.”

Right after I take care of the akuma.

~~~~~~~~

The little hands of Felix’s black wrist watch ticked away well past 12:30, reminding him of his frustrating failure to set a timer for their lunch period. How could he have forgotten? The notion had to be ingrained into his muscle memory by now. Get up, go to school, burn through the first few classes, set a timer to not waste time, and go to lunch. How did it slip his mind?

“I can’t believe I didn’t ask this sooner,” Allegra remarked as they exited the café, “but what happened to your guys’ faces? I’m pretty sure they weren’t that red before.”

Felix glanced towards Claude and Marinette, the excuse to his forgetfulness finally returning. He’d been in the middle of setting the alarm when he saw their tomato-colored faces in front of the Chemistry lab. The sight must have been enough to throw away all thoughts of setting his alarm as he asked what happened. Nevertheless, Felix still had time to copy down some notes before his next class, and that would suit him just fine for today.

“Oh, man, how have I not told you yet?” Claude snorted. “It was hilarious!”

Marinette let out a light, yet playful scoff next to him. “Define ‘hilarious’.”

The group shared a small chuckle, and Claude jumped into the story of how they- well, how he spilled their chemicals in class. It surely couldn’t have been as interesting as the brunette let on, but Claude always loved to be dramatic. He made voices for Marinette’s comments- which she jokingly took offence towards due to the unrealistically high pitch -and flailed his arms about while explaining how he poured the chemicals into a bag and mixed them. Claude even made a point to throw out his arms while mimicking the sound of an explosion when he got to the part of the story where the chemicals overflowed.

One of those arms happened to smack Felix in the shoulder, which easily brought a glare out of the blonde. If Claude was this energetic now, there was no telling how bad he was going to be during Allegra’s sleepover. In fact, the whole group was probably going to go overboard. Something about sleepovers tended to bring out the most outgoing side of a person, which was why Felix loathed them. He had to sit there and listen to everyone snort and laugh and be loud the entire evening without the comfort that he might be able to leave within an hour or two. It was torture, simply put.

And yet, he decided to go. All for the ludicrous thought that he might be able to ask Marinette more questions about her relations to Agreste and her old school once- or if -the night provided them a moment of privacy. The motivation itself was outright foolish if he were honest with himself. Even if he did acquire a “decent moment” to bring up the subject, she would most likely be uncomfortable talking about it, and dragging a person through the past that they’re deliberately trying to run from isn’t pleasant for anyone involved. That’s why he’s refrained from asking about it again so far.

Felix needed to find some other way to sedate his curiosity towards her. He did.. But how else was he going to find out why an aspiring fashion designer would run from the supposed affections of a top designer’s son? Felix guessed that it might be something like sexual harassment or another, equally disgusting treachery, but then what about the chest of gifts? Where her affections for the model had been clear? What type of fallout must one have with another person to risk their entire dream career just to escape them?

Felix shook his head slightly to push the thoughts out of his mind. He wasn’t going to barrage Marinette with question after question just to stop his mind from constantly turning when it probably wouldn’t stop anyway. Marinette was Marinette. A classmate of his that was kind, clumsy yet capable, overly-generous, determined, weirdly strong for someone of her stature, and a mystery in more ways than one when it came to the life she lived. That was going to have to be enough for him.

“You should have seen it, Allegra.” Claude said with a grin, pulling Felix back to the present. He’d somewhat forgotten that the brunette was even talking.

“It was like the whole bag of Phenol Red just went-”

A large crash erupted to the left of them, followed by a strong gust of wind that pushed them all off of their feet. Felix hit the pavement with a grunt, and Marinette landed on top of him a second later, sucking the rest of the air from his lungs. Screams pierced the air, disorienting him further- why were they screaming? What made the crash? How did it create enough wind to knock them over? -but Marinette sat up immediately. She turned to the source of the crash, tense and ready, as though she already knew what they were dealing with, and Felix couldn’t be more confused. Why did she look like she was about to fight something? (And why did he feel like she would win?)

“Do not be afraid!” A voice yelled over the crowds, drawing Felix’s gaze to a woman standing a few yards away from them. She was dressed in dark and light blues, save for her white elbow-length cloak and her white skirt that appeared to be split into several different pieces of cloth. “I’ve come to help! Not just you, but the world!”

Felix’s eyes widened, an entirely new form of terror taking hold of his body. This wasn’t.. This couldn’t be an akuma, right? She looked different than the ones he’d seen on the news, more human. If it weren’t for her white and dark blue mask and the large fan in her hands that seemed to be controlling the wind, he would have thought that she was a normal civilian merely passing by. 

“Our planets have been spoiled by the bigger companies for too long!” The woman continued, even though people ran as she spoke. “It’s time we take matters into our own hands!”

His mind screamed at him to run, to hide, to move, but he couldn’t. His entire being was cemented to the spot in fear of what might happen next. What if this akuma was dangerous? What if her powers possessed people like that Pharaoh themed villain? Or completely killed them like Stoneheart or TimeTagger? Were they going to be her first victims? What if it-

A harsh tug interrupted his reeling thoughts, and suddenly, Felix was back on his feet and running. Running behind Marinette who was pulling them to safety. 

“Hurry up, we don’t have much time!” She quietly called over her shoulder. “Let’s hide behind the wooden fence while she’s distracted.”

Felix had enough sense to look ahead of them, where a small, wooden fence that held the cafe’s menu was placed. It wasn’t hard to notice under normal circumstances, but how did Marinette think of hiding there while the akuma was right behind them? How was she not paralyzed by the very idea of being caught?

“I’m going to destroy some stores around here, but only to get the heroes’ attention!” The akuma explained as the group scrambled passed the fence and pressed their backs against the wood. “Once I have the miraculous, I will restore everything to its rightful place, I promise!”

Felix tried to slow his rapid, shallow breaths as he sank further against the fence. She was going to destroy buildings? How many? Were they going to get hit with the debris? Where were the heroes that he’d heard so much about? Shouldn’t they be doing something about all of this?

“What do we do?” Claude whispered, panic clear in his tone as well. None of them had ever seen an akuma attack before. Well, none of them except Allan, but he’d been watching through a store window a safe distance away.

“Should we call the police?” Allegra nearly squeaked, tentatively reaching for her bag to pull out her phone. “They help with stuff like this too, right?”

“No need.” Marinette said. She was on the left side of Felix now, staying close to the edge of the fence and carefully peeking around it. “The police have akuma alerts on their phones to tell them when attacks happen. They're already on their way, I’m sure.”

Felix stared down at her with furrowed eyebrows, completely baffled by the lack of panic in her demeanor. This was the same girl who stumbled and stuttered to ask him for a pencil during class! Yet here she was, taking charge and giving orders and speaking perfectly. It was like she was a completely different person! How was that even possible? 

“Alright,” The ravenette spoke, turning back to them with a deathly serious gaze, “I’m going to run out and get her attention. While I’m doing that, you guys need to run as far away from here as you can and find a good basement to hide in until this is over.”

“What?” The group practically gasped in unison. She wanted to face the akuma alone?!

“Marinette, you’re not going anywhere!” Allegra insisted. “It’s not safe out there!”

“It’s less safe if we stay here.” She replied, moving to step out into the open.

Felix grabbed her wrist to yank her back. What was happening right now? 

“Are you insane?” He hissed unintentionally. “You can’t go out there! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Yeah, she’s not after us.” Allan agreed. “Only the buildings. Let’s just all run out of here together.”

Marinette glanced back at the group. “But there are still people in those buildings. I need to lure her to an empty street or at least stall until the heroes get here. If I don’t, people are definitely going to get hurt or worse.”

Felix’s grip on Marinette’s wrist tightened. He hadn’t thought about the crowds of people who were running inside for cover, but even so, what would she be able to do alone? The akuma was a powerful being, and they were merely civilians in the crossfire. What’s stopping it from crushing Marinette beneath its boot at the slightest whim? Who’s to say the akuma would even listen to Marinette if she did get its attention?

“We’re not letting you sacrifice yourself for an extra second of time.” He told her. “Like you said, the police are on their way, which means the heroes will be here soon too. Let them handle it.”

A strange mix of urgency and frustration flickered across her features, and she tugged against his grip. “Felix, please, we don’t have time to argue-”

“I think I’ll start with this darling café.” The akuma crooned. “That should get some attention.”

The café walls crumbling apart was Felix’s only warning before the gust of wind made it to their little hide-out. It splintered the wood within seconds, and the group went flying, once again, into the pavement. 

Felix groaned as he pushed himself to his knees. How many times were they going to get thrown around? At least Marinette didn’t land on him this time.

Marinette.

The realization that Marinette was no longer with him washed over Felix like a bucket of ice cold water, and his gaze snapped upwards. He started to yell for her, but it was too late. Marinette was already on her feet, somehow recovering faster than all of them, and running towards the akuma head on. He could only watch in abject horror as she called out to it.

“Hey, airhead!” She yelled. “Do you really think this is the smartest plan?”

The akuma rounded on Marinette in an instant, and Felix sucked in a breath. No, no, no, no, what was she doing?

“My name is ‘Whirlwind’, thank you very much,” The woman snapped, “and I think it’s a brilliant plan. Do you think you can do something better?”

“Of course.” Marinette replied, crossing her arms. “If you’re already destroying buildings, why not go and destroy the big companies that you’re after in the first place? It’d be much more productive, don’t you think?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. Didn’t she say that she wanted to avoid public places?

Whirlwind hummed. “Well, yes, but with all of the major hotels and tourist spots, it’s hard to tell which buildings to destroy, and I don’t have time to look.”

“I’ll show you where they are.” Marinette offered. “Think about it, destroying a big, company building is sure to attract more attention than taking down a little café, right?”

Whirlwind narrowed her eyes as she thought it over, and a part of Felix desperately hoped that she would decline Marinette’s suggestion. A bigger part of him prayed that the police or the heroes or somebody showed up to stop this before Marinette went too far.

“Alright.” Whirlwind smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. It’s nice to see someone else interested in saving the environment.”

With a flick of her fan, Whirlwind gathered a gust of wind around Marinette, causing the ravenette to rise into the air. She then gave herself a gust of wind, which caused her white skirt to start spinning around her. If Felix wasn’t going pale with dread over what might happen to his classmate, he would have found the unique fashion choice to be humorous, as it almost reminded him of a box fan. 

Allegra let out a horrified shriek, one that rattled Felix to his bones. This was really happening. Marinette was really being carried off by some maniac in a costume. What were they going to do? What could they do? Gosh, where were the heroes?

Felix grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet. He couldn’t just stand there and watch her be kidnapped or he’d never be able to look her in the eyes afterwards.

That’s right, he told himself. The heroes were going to win, and she was going to be just fine. 

Those thoughts didn’t stop him from sprinting after the akuma, though, even as the trio called after him to stop, even as the akuma rose higher into the air, out of his reach. Marinette couldn’t do this by herself, and although Felix’s presence probably wouldn’t make much of a difference either, he’d be darned if he didn’t try to help. 

“Don’t worry,” He huffed, comforting himself more than her as he darted through alleyways to keep up with them, “I’m right behind you.”

Tag list:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything  @magnificentcrapposts  @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth​ @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx

[vs-redemption]

Aaa im so sorry for bothering you! Can uou do my request from before (homeless kid) but now with hawks, shigaraki, and fatgum please? Im so sorry if its any trouble but your writing isFANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Phew! Sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I gave you something I was proud of. And don’t worry! You aren’t bothering me. I was actually kind of wishing you’d included Hawks in the first request, and Shigaraki was a fun challenge to write! I really hope these meet your expectations.

A Surprise Meeting (Hawks, Fat Gum, and Shigaraki meet their abused child)

Warning:⚠️Mentions of child abuse and homelessness.⚠️

You can read the same scenario but with Bakugo, Iida, and Aizawa HERE You can read the same scenario but with Todoroki and Dabi HERE

Hawks

Hawks knew his patience would be put to the test whenever the Hero Commission called him in for a face-to-face meeting. He’d opened up his agency as far away from the head office as possible for the sole purpose of avoiding their overbearing attempts to control not only his career, but his personal life as well. He appreciated everything the Commission had done for him to an extent. After all, he never would’ve ended up as such a successful hero if they hadn’t taken him in as a child and given him intensive training to perfect his quirk. There were a lot of things he’d hated about living under the Commission’s thumb though. Because of that, he really hated whenever he had to go back there.

“Thanks for coming today, Hawks.” The president of the organization herself had come to greet him. He gave her a roguish grin despite the fact he wanted to role his eyes. He hated when they thanked him for obeying when it wasn’t like he had a choice anyway. “There’s someone we’d like you to meet.”

Hawks followed the president as she led him deeper into the facility than he’d been in a long time. His wings twitched behind him as unpleasant memories began to surface in his mind. He felt confused and uncomfortable when he was brought into a small observation room that had a view of one of the commission’s training spaces behind a large two way mirror. “Are you going to explain what this is all about?” Hawks jokes to try and ease his own tension, “Or are you keeping me in suspense on purpose?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” The president’s face remains stoic as she turns away and speaks into an intercom. “Bring her in.” Hawks looks into the training room on the other side of the glass and sees a random agent of the commission step through the door with a tiny little girl following closely behind. She looked to be around two years old. Hawks’ jaw drops in disbelief when he sees the two fluffy wings sprouting from the child’s back. He’d seen other people with wing quirks before, but this kid’s resemblance to him was uncanny. Her hair was darker than his, but the black markings around her golden eyes had his mind reeling.

“Of course we did a DNA test,” the president says flatly. “She’s definitely your child.”

Hawks steps away from the glass and runs a hand over his face, letting the information sink in. The commission had so much influence over his personal life that he’d mostly stayed away from any sort of relationship, knowing that there’d be too much drama over maintaining his image and reputation for him to actually enjoy having that kind of connection with someone. Admittedly, he had bent his own rules and caved into pressure once or twice after graduating the commission’s program. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d mostly done it out of spite for all the years he’d spent being micromanaged.

“A woman dropped her off a few days ago,” the president’s voice turns sharp. “How could you let this happen?” Hawks wasn’t interested in a lecture at the moment, so he ignores the question in favor of moving closer to the glass and looking at his daughter more intently. She was cleaned up and wearing a standard uniform provided by the commission, but Hawks didn’t miss the painful looking scratches on her face or the raggedy, burned up ends of the feathers on her wings.

“What happened to her?” he asks, surprising even himself at the low tone of his voice.

“The mother admitted to doing most of it,” the president rattles off the information in a clinically detached way. “They’d also been living out on the street for a while as well, so who knows what might’ve happened.” The news was heartbreaking for Hawks. He hadn’t lived in ideal circumstances at that age either, and he wouldn’t wish that sort of life on anyone.

“Your wings didn’t start to grow back until you were a bit older, so we’re assuming it’ll be the same for her,” the president seemed oblivious to the emotional state of the hero standing next to her. “We’ve already started her on a special diet though, and she’ll begin her training regimen at the beginning of next week.”

Hawks wasn’t sure if it was some bird trait related to his quirk or just the knowledge that he was the kid’s father, but some sort of instinct kicked in with such intensity that it washed away any feelings of duty or habits of obedience that had been programmed into his brain.

“You’re not keeping her,” he says fiercely. The president just raises her eyebrows at him.

“The mother left her in our custody,” she states. “You should be thankful that we’re willing to overlook your mistake. With any luck, we’ll be able to groom this girl into a hero just as spectacular as you.”

“If you don’t release her to me, it’ll be you that’s made a mistake,” there was a promise of something terrifying in Hawks’ tone that seemed to finally shake the president’s resolve.

“You really think you’ll be able to be a decent parent?” she asks coldly.

“I won’t let her be robbed of a childhood like I was,” Hawks declares firmly. “If she wants to be a hero, she can make that decision when she’s old enough to do so.” Thankfully, the president decided not to argue any more. Hawks turns back to the window and allows himself to relax a bit. Looking over his daughter again, his heart filled with a love so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He made a vow to love and protect his little girl so that she had the safest and happiest life possible.

Fat Gum

There was nothing quite like the feeling of walking around the lively streets of Osaka at night. People of all walks of life tended to come out around this time, and the delicious smell of cooking food filled the air. Taishiro Toyomitsu, better known as Fat Gum, could think of no better city to do his hero patrols. The crime rate was a little higher than in other places, but it was worth it for him to have easy access to the yakitori, yakisoba, and okonomiyaki stands that kept his quirk plenty fueled up.

Tonight he was in high spirits as he walked down one of the more famous shopping streets, stuffing his face with incredible snacks, and having friendly encounters with both locals and tourists alike. A couple of young musicians were playing on one of the street corners, so he tossed a few coins into their cup. Everything seemed to be fine basically, other than a few people who’d stumbled out of bars and needed help getting to a taxi. It was one of his more tame patrols, but he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He noticed that he was being followed near the end of the night, when most of the shops and restaurants were starting to close up. The busy streets began to empty as people hurried to catch the last few trains, and only when there were just a handful of people left out sweeping the sidewalks did the figure emerge from the shadows. Fat Gum was surprised to find that his pursuer was a young boy around nine years old with strange, aquamarine colored hair.

“Hey there, kiddo!” he kept a huge grin on his face but still kept his guard up just in case. “Can I help you with anything?” The kid looked to be in pretty rough shape as he gazed up at the BMI hero who towered over him. Fat Gum didn’t like the poor condition of the boy’s clothes, or that he appeared extremely dirty. The most concerning thing of all was how emaciated the boy looked. He could practically see the bones in his arms, and his cheeks were sunken with hunger. He wondered when the poor thing had last eaten a proper meal.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the kid finally speaks up after a moment. Fat Gum finally noticed that the boy had started shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t sure if the boy was just cold, or if he was actually afraid. He watched as the kid reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered old photograph. “By any chance, do you know this woman?” The boy flinches away while holding out the paper for Fat Gum to see.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, buddy!” the large hero says while taking the photo as non-aggressively as possible. “Let’s just take a quick look at this and… oh.” He recognized the woman staring back at him from the picture. He hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. He’d lost contact with her once she’d broken his heart after a short romantic affair. “Uh,” Fat Gum felt a little awkward, “Is this your mom?” The boy nods his head while keeping his eyes closed. “Then,” Fat Gum chuckles nervously, “am I your dad?”

“Yeah,” the boy mumbles before letting a few tears slip out, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” the need to be a hero for this boy was stronger than his discomfort with the situation. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. How could I have not known about this until now?”

“Mom wouldn’t let me tell you,” his voice cracks with emotion. “She said you’d be mad.”

“Well, that’s just silly!” Fat Gum shakes his head in disbelief. “Where is your ma’ now?” The boy finally glances up and meets his eyes. They were the same shape and color as his own.

“She got arrested yesterday,” he admits, sounding embarrassed. “Another hero caught her pickpocketing. She sometimes asked me to help her, but I haven’t been feeling well lately. We don’t have a place to stay either, so we had to find a way to get food.”

Fat Gum hated the thought of that woman not only keeping the existence of his son a secret, but also forcing a young boy to break the law. Perhaps that was why the boy looked so scared. He probably thought he was going to get in trouble too. Fat Gum had other ideas though.

“I’m really sorry that happened to your mom,” he says sincerely, “but she will have to pay for the crimes she committed.”

“I know,” the boy looks back down at his feet.

“But there’s no reason you have to follow in her footsteps,” Fat Gum says cheerfully. “I’m more than willing to take you under my wing. That is, if you don’t mind.” The boy finally allows a tentative smile to grow on his face. He clearly liked the idea.

“Well then, first I think we should get you to a doctor,” Fat Gum reaches down and gently pats the boy’s head. This time, he doesn’t flinch away. “And after that, I’ll make sure you get a decent hot meal! No kid of mine is going to look like skin and bones.” The boy eagerly agrees and allows Fat Gum to scoop him up into his arms. He had a feeling it was going to be a dream come true to finally have the fun and affectionate father he’d always imagined.

Shigaraki

People were always going on and on about how hard public servants worked and how important their jobs were. Heroes, police officers, firefighters, health workers… sure, they all had hefty responsibilities, but nobody ever considered the absolute nightmare it was being the leader of the League of Villains. Shigaraki wanted to see someone else try to manage the group of ragtag, lawless, misfits that he’d been left in charge of. It’d be one thing if they were all there to support him and his diabolical plans, but unfortunately a good number of his followers were just hanging around in the hopes of an opportunity to continue the work of the Hero Killer, Stain.

Stain had always been a sore spot with Shigaraki, ever sense the man had shown up at his hideout just to criticize him for not having a clear goal. He’d never admit it out loud, but the jerk might have had a point. At first, he’d just wanted to kill All Might, but that was only because it was what his master, All For One, had wanted. After All For One had been arrested, Shigaraki was sort of left without a guiding hand or a clear path to follow. He still wanted to kill All Might. And he wanted that annoying Midoriya kid dead too. When he really thought about it, Shigaraki just kind of wanted everyone to be dead.

The door to the villain’s hideout clicked open suddenly, making everyone in the bar turn to see who’d arrived. It was just Dabi, trailing in the scent of burnt corpses. Shigaraki clenched his teeth and sighs in annoyance. That ugly fire user was supposed to be out recruiting people to the League, but all he ever did was incinerate any potential members he came across.

“I didn’t know we were running a daycare service now,” Dabi comments lazily while grabbing a stool at the bar and signaling Kurogiri for a drink.

“What are you talking about?” Shigaraki felt the prickling urge to scratch at the flaking skin on his neck, but managed to control himself. Dabi was always trying to get a rise out of him and the worst thing he could do was take the bait.

“Some crusty looking rugrat is hanging around outside,” Dabi shrugs. “You might want to do something about that.” Shigaraki wasn’t sure if the annoying man was messing with him or not, but he sent Twice to check it out just in case. The last thing they needed was a lost child attracting the attention of any heroes. A few minutes later, Twice returned with what looked like a four year old boy trying to claw his way out of his captor’s arms.

“Put me down!” The kid protests before opening his mouth and biting down on Twice’s fingers. The villain drops the kid who lands with a thud on the floor.

“There really was a kid out there!” Twice gestures to the boy dramatically, “He’s completely rabid though! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You picked the wrong place to run away to,” Shigaraki walks up to the boy feeling irritated. “You should’ve stayed with your mommy and daddy.” The boy glares up at him from the ground and Shigaraki gets a big shock. Aside from the hair color, it was like looking into a mirror. The boy had the same piercing red eyes as him. The skin around those familiar eyes was dry and irritated, just like his own too.

“You ARE my daddy!” The kid blurts out and the atmosphere in the bar gets extremely uncomfortable. Of course, the silence is broken by a snort from Dabi.

“Oh man,” he shakes his head. “I can’t believe someone actually had the stomach to sleep with you.”

“Shut up, Dabi!” Shigaraki tries to swallow down the panic and horror bubbling up inside him, but the persistent itch on his neck seemed to double in intensity over this unexpected news. He gives in, reaching up to scratch at the damaged pale skin below his ear. It had been All For One’s idea for him to have an ‘experience’ with a lady. He’d said it was an important part of becoming an adult, but now Shigaraki could only see it as a huge mistake. A voice drifted through his mind, telling him that it would only take five fingers to make this whole problem go away.

“Where’s your mommy?” Toga skips over happily, unable to resist inserting herself into the situation.

“I don’t know,” the boy was putting on a brave face, but it was clear that he was afraid. “We had to leave our house and sleep outside. Mommy said it was because my dad was a villain, but then she was gone when I woke up.”

The story struck a chord in Shigaraki. He’d been left abandoned without a home as well at a very young age. The last thing he wanted to do was sympathize with the brat though. What he wanted was for the kid to disappear. The idea of a guy like him being a parent was laughable. He was barely an adult himself, and he had enough on his plate right now. A small child was only going to be a burden. His fingers twitched, ready to activate his quick as he continues to look down at the helpless boy at his feet. The conflicting feelings inside him were making the itching flare up terribly. Every inch of skin on Shigaraki’s body felt like it was on fire now.

“You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?” the boy suddenly slumps forward, the fight going out of him. “You hate me.”

A weird resolve washes over Shigaraki at those words. No. He wasn’t like everyone else. If there was one thing all the member of the League of Villains had in common, it was that they’d all been rejected by friends, family, and even heroes for traits they had little or no control over. This boy was just as much a victim of this crooked society as the rest of them.

“You’re forbidden from ever leaving this building,” Shigaraki states flatly. “And don’t expect anyone here to coddle you or clean up after you. The moment you become a nuisance you’re back out on the street.” The boy nods in understanding while finally pushing himself off the ground. Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he’d just signed up for. The only thing he knew for sure was that his job had just gotten a lot more complicated.

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k 

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.  

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”          

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

           Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

           She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

           (Tom) I got you something today

           After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood.  She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

           (Me) You were in Disneyland????

           (Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today 

           (Me) I’m so jealous rn

           (Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!  

           (Tom) it’s alright

           (Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

           (Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

           (Me) I bet you loved this feeling

           (Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

           (Tom) Don’t tell anyone

           (Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

           (Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

           Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

           Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

           The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

           “I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

           “That’s exciting, right?”

           “Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

           “That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

           “I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

           “No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

           “Yeah? How was work?”

           “Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

           Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

           “Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

           “You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

           “Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

           “I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

           “Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

           “You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

           “I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

           “Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

           “Oh, for sure.”

           “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

           “I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

           “You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

                                                          *  *  *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

           “How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

           “Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

           “It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

           “Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

           It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.  

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

[bettsfic]

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres. 

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost. 

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant 

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down. 

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income. 

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found. 

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1. 

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done. 

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown. 

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown. 

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby. 

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while. 

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting. 

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit. 

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus. 

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them. 

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed! 

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall. 

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped. 

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war. 

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you. 

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

[underworld-knight]

Barrier (Idia x F! s/o)

It was a quiet and peaceful day, you and Idia were at his dorm room, as usual, watching some anime you recommended. Ortho was helping professor Vargas with some injured students since the boy has some medical assistance his older brother programed into him. So you were alone.

Normally, Idia would freaked the fuck out to be in the same room alone with someone, specially someone he is crushing so hard on. But you guys are so used to do this, since you two met, Idia gradually starts inviting you to his room to play some games or watch something. Ortho really appreciate your company, you two make the sunshine combo that warms the poor shy guy's heart. So your presence was now a common and good thing in his life.

As the episode goes, you star to really paying attention to it, it was one of your favorite anime so total focus was essencial. Idia was extremely focused as well, eyes almost never blinking as he bit his blue tinted lips unconsciously. As the climax of the show goes on, you felt that excitement that always come when you watch it no matter how many times, as for him, he gasped and you could feel how static he was as he mumbled how amazing that episode was.

Both of you decided to continue the show later and eat something (in his room, of course). As the nice person you are, standing up to snatch some candy for him, Idia starts admiring you without noticing. How you move, how you tuck some strands of hair behind your ear, just how you are so peaceful but at the same time so fierce sometimes. God help him when he starts to daydream about you, all the memories you've made and all the possibilities the future holds really weights in his chest. Is it anxiety? But it feels good... maybe is hope and excitement? What are you doing with this man?

"Hey Idia, something happen?" you asked softly to not startle him. "W-w-what? O-oh it's really nothing. I... just the sick feeling to have class with Mr. Cater tomorrow" He was almost proud he came with an excuse and a side joke in the same phrase. You giggled, which made him more flustered "aw don't say that, he is just wants to be friendly." "T-that's the issue... if he could just leave me alone, I could like him more." "Hey, I know he gives you a hard time sometimes but look at the bright side! With him, your insecurity with being hated from everyone is proved false" You grinned.

With that, Idia reminded all the times you helped him with his fears, anxiety and depressed thoughts. He couldn't understand how someone whom excitement was similar as Mr. Kalim would tag along with a shut in like him. It kind of annoyed him at first, he tried to push you away and you noticed his discomfort and backed away immediately, for his relief but also... disappointment? Sometimes the guy doesn't even understand himself.

---

However one day, and he could still feel the guilt crept back in his mind, he saw you crying in secret in a isolated section in the library. Frozen in place, the blue haired guy just kept staring at you. Of course, everyone has a bad day and the right to be sad, but see you in such a state was somehow wrong. I mean, you are Mrs. Cheerful!! The way you looked so hurt and at the same time so used to this feeling was something Idia would never imagined to see. He didn't realize at how long he was staring at you (and later he found out it's an effect you have on him), until the same girl flinched at his presence, wiping furiously the tears away as you apologize for the situation and offering a weak smile.

That broke his heart

He immediately tried to excuse himself and at the same time saying it's okay and he should be the one apologizing for being such a creep, resulting in a stuttering mess. Okay, now you definitely think he is a weirdo, a low life scumbag. Whatever, he was used to this. But you just started giggling softly.

"I am not laughing at you, it's just funny... Oh, you need some book in specific? Sorry... I am troubling you again right? I shall leave now" "Wait!" Idia exclaimed, cursing himself mentally, how is he supposed to handle a conversation HE started. "Um... I mean..." Taking out his tablet, with that the guy could speak some proper words. "You are not troubling me I was just surprised. I should leave n-" "Whoa! How can you type so fast?? And the voice is so smooth!! It's like, so real!" "Hm?" "Lilia told me Ignihyde was famous for the crazy technology you guys do, but seeing in real life is just amazing!"

Did she was impressed by a voice synthesizer? There is such a variety of "crazy technology" his dorm has made, the voice synthesizer was merely child's play in his perspective.

"Um, yes. Actually this is one of the versions I made for myself. For my little brother I add the ability to sing as well." Oh no... He was getting into the conversation "Really? That's so cool! It's like a vocaloid... right?" You asked shyly Hold on, hold on, did you just said vocaloid? And you mention it in front of the biggest otaku NRC has ever admitted? Idia's eyes lit up as he grinned. "So you know vocaloids!? You can say something like that, well I mean  there's a lot of difference compared to the softwares and even the quality of the sound. I tried to do Ortho's voice as smooth as possible, specially with the high notes he mentioned to me, it was a little troublesome but fun nonetheless. Ah the world of artificial voices is so vast, I could even build-"

It was that moment that Idia knew - He fucked up

He talked too much, and now that potencial friend was weirded out by his passion. He could really blame you? Anyone in their right mind would be. He should just go to his dorm and sulk for the day.

"Hm? What happened? Are you okay?" "AH! It was nothing, sorry... I just get carried away with the subject" "Yeah! And it was so cool! I would really love to see some of your work, for real!" "W-w-what?"  he was so caught off guard he even said out loud instead of using the device "Oh... I didn't mean to intrude or anything. You don't have to show it. I was just really into in what you were saying."

Back with his tablet, Idia invited his "new friend" to see some projects he has in his room. Of course, the meeting was online, but you didn't mind. You truly understand his anxiety since you have some troubles with yourself. Troubles he did asked some months after you met. You now was his sunshine, his player-2, even if those nicknames were a secret. 

A secret he will never have the courage to tell. And so he believed.

---

Back at the current situation, you sit back on his bed and handed him the candy. as both bodies were almost touching, Idia was far away in his own thoughts, he remembered when you told about your insecurities, how your mind just screams how worthless you really are, of how many time the thought about death was endearing. His chest was heavy as he pictured the hot tears falling from your beautiful eyes.

"I didn't mean to ruin the mood, sorry... We can go back to the game again."

That sentence just filled him with dread.

So many times you helped him with HIS insecurities and anxiety attacks. You were the first person, aside his family, to really give a try to understand his weirdness.

"I-I-I..." "Or maybe I overwhelmed you with all this. You have your problems, I don't want to trouble you with my nonsense" "Stop it!"

Your eyes widen at the sudden exclamation.

"Don't you ever say that again to me. How can your problems be nothing more than nonsense? Are serious? I wish I could be as strong as you! Not only you try your best to be a decent person in this godforsaken school, but you have the guts to open your heart like that!"

As your whole body frozen in shock at how he spoke those words without the aid of his tablet.

"Idia..." tears still falling down but your face lit up little by little "thank you so much"

He wants to hug you, but he knew he'd just make a fuss and ruin the mood. You respected that, after all it was already warm in your heart. And after that incident, you grew closer to one another, Idia taught you how to play some games so you two could spend the day playing together. Ortho was so happy now his big bro found someone who makes everything interesting, he could almost not contain his happiness when you invited him to play at the courtyard, he could hug you all day. You were really his big bro's sunshine.

"Hey?" You called softly, a little concern with the blue haired guy lost gaze "Oh! Yeah! Sorry, I spaced out...again" "Hmmmm, hope it is not about how the show is going to end. You sir are too good to get yourself a spoiler." "Heh, in other words, I am pretty smart" Idia teased, he really loved at how he can be playfully confident. You didn't judge him so he felt more at ease to be himself. "Don't get too cocky Mr. Shroud" you teased back

Maybe onde day, Idia will say those words he so much want to tell you. Who knows, step by step. As your "friendship" grows, his fears will fade away eventually.

[squidproquoclarice]

What’s Arthur’s recovery treatment like in Sunrise in terms of medically, because it was really interesting to see such a realistic view on how he would recover from the drastic effects of TB. And the way you wrote that the TB although dormant is always gunna be there with him for the rest of his life was a good other aspect to his character, and added to the strength he has, considering the stigma too attached to the disease at that time, and especially once you get to the last chapter and see how far he’s come from the first chapter, I was just like good for him. It was great.

Combining this with another similar Ask:  “Can you talk about Arthur’s proceduree with the cactus? Just that him living one with those scars of treatment.. it’s great for the story”.   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So as I’ve remarked on his gunshot wound, I hate “Hollywood” medicine and how it gives us such an inaccurate impression of what treatment and recovery for something is like.  It was important to me that I depicted the actual process of dealing with tuberculosis recovery realistically, both medically and for the period.  I didn’t want to just skip ahead to three years later and go “And Arthur was well again”.  I also absolutely didn’t want to go the route that I’ve seen of claiming “nonspecific magic Indian cure from Rains Fall” because holy shit, that’s exoticism-as-Other and racism.   Arthur is badly off at the end of Chapter 6.  His TB has run him down to the point where, combined with his fight injuries and hypothermia, it was too much for him in-game.  That’s really not something you can sleep off for a few days or get rid of by popping a few DayQuil.   Being as antibiotics were several decades in the future, TB was everywhere at the time of RDR2.  It was one of the leading causes of death in 1900 America at 194 deaths per 100,000 people.  To give you a comparison to another deadly communicable respiratory disease that kills slowly, leaves chronic impact to survivors, and has huge impacts to society, daily life, and public health?  As per Johns Hopkins University stats, the current American COVID-19 death rate is 149 deaths per 100K.  That’s how bad TB was.      Tuberculosis wasn’t a guaranteed death sentence like people assume from the game.  But yes, it was very likely.  Roughly 1/2 to 2/3 of people who contract active tuberculosis die within five years without antibiotic treatment.  Although interestingly, those who make it to 5 years in untreated tuberculosis then show a 60% spontaneous remission rate. So making it to 5 years was unlikely, but your odds got pretty decent at that point. Arthur's a resilient man who's beaten the odds before, so I figured it wasn't impossible for him to do so again. In terms of actually getting into the details of medical treatment, 1900 is an interesting point in TB history.  It's sort of a transition point between two regimens of treatment.  

The first is the post-Civil War "rest cure" (advised to Arthur by Dr. Barnes in St. Denis) of going to a climate thought to be more helpful to TB sufferers, and from there getting as much rest and fresh air as possible, and just hoping for the best.  TB was actually a significant part of the Old West as plenty of people came westward for that supposed better climate.  What the ideal climate was varied depending who you asked (hot, hot and dry, mountainous, forest, etc.), and spoiler alert: climate doesn't really affect TB recovery.  Getting away from crowded cities was probably the more effective thing. That relied very heavily on patient initiative, though, and the ability of a family to provide any necessary care, as well as to uproot and move to another place.  Obviously for those in poverty, not likely to happen.  We see this with Thomas Downes, who clearly is poor enough that he wouldn't have had that option.  Many didn’t.  Many died because they simply couldn’t stop working, let alone move halfway across the country.  There were a few sanatoriums/well-known rest places, but they were few and far between.       After 1900, and increasingly after WWI, the notion turned more to TB as an issue requiring direct medical intervention rather than letting people quietly hope for the best.  That led to patients often undergoing quarantine and a formal treatment regimen (which still relied a lot upon rest and fresh air) in either a private or government-run sanatorium.  People went in until they recovered enough to show numerous consecutive negative TB tests and the disease had become latent, or they died.  Some took years to leave, and some took years to die.  This is the institutional phase of TB treatment, and it lasted until it got increasingly superseded by the antibiotic phase post-WWII. What I did with Las Hermanas was create something in that transition phase.  It's a TB ward with a more structured treatment regimen, but there's not the strict bureaucratic oversight and total isolation of patients from family and the world that you see later.  I did bring that notion in later in 1907 with Sadie seeing a poster in New Hanover for the new state-run Six Points TB Sanatorium advising that TB patients would be quarantined there. Las Hermanas' treatment is more the hallmark of a forward-thinking doctor.  Felipe Garcia's trying different things in treatment with that mentality, and taking the unusual step of keeping families with patients (which wouldn't be the case later).  It's something that worked on a micro level, but probably couldn't have happened on a macro level as a nationwide program, so Arthur and Sadie are lucky to have hit upon it.  The total bed rest for a while to start to give the lungs a chance to recover is accurate to some TB treatments of the time, and also later. The treatment there at Las Hermanas does include artificial pneumothorax.  Again, Felipe's a bit ahead of the curve.  It was a known treatment at the time, having been reported, as he says, at an AMA conference in Denver several years before.  It had been noted that spontaneous lung collapse (pneumothorax) in a patient actually had i,proved their TB, and the idea of inducing that collapse deliberately (e.g., "artificial" pneumothorax) got kicked around some.  But it didn't really become commonplace as a treatment until post-1912 with Italian physician Carlo Forlanini "rediscovering" the technique and getting visibility for it--he'd actually been among its pioneers thirty years earlier.  But the fascination with microbiological advancements, including Robert Koch's identification and description of the tuberculosis bacteria in 1882, meant it got sort of shelved for a while.  Again, this increasing use post-1912 is also coinciding with the rise of sanatoriums, where controlled treatment regimens under a doctor’s close direction were more possible. Essentially what happens in classic artificial pneumothorax (AP from here on in) therapy is introducing gas--either air or nitrogen--into the cavity surrounding the lungs (*not* the lung itself) via needle and bellows apparatus.  For video of classic AP being performed around 1925 in a patient in Chicago, watch the first 3 minutes of this video.  It does a good job showing exactly what the procedure looked like, what the equipment looked like, etc. Side note: local anesthetic was definitely used in later years because being jabbed with a decent sized needle deeply enough to puncture your chest wall is not fun.  It's very possible Felipe might have used it, as local anesthetic was a concept known and somewhat used at the time.  It very likely would have been a localized injection of cocaine as more familiar, still-used local anesthetics like lidocaine and novocaine were years in the future.  But, hey, for a cowboy game that's period accurate enough that it gives you cocaine gum, using cocaine as a local anesthetic isn't unreasonable.  ;) The AP apparatus, once it was hooked up, put enough gas in there to cause enough pressure and force to induce a partial or full collapse of an infected lung.  That would help rest that lung or that part of it from struggling to breathe, and also provide an oxygen-deprived environment that would help kill the TB bacteria swarming in the lesions and cavities they had chewed into the tissue of the lungs. Bonus: breathing on one or one-and-partial lung also probably generally obliged patients to rest more. For one quick set of statistics, 23 of 40 patients with lungs successfully collapsed by AP in 1913 showed dramatic improvement in their TB.  So not a magic bullet, but a tool that perhaps upped your odds when done right.  There were more severe AP methods also used later, including phrenectomy and thoracoplasty, but those wouldn't have been seen in 1899 in this case. The problem is that the AP gas pumped into the pleura would eventually leak out, or be absorbed by the body tissue.  There's a somewhat vivid detail in Thomas Mann's "Magic Mountain", a 1924 novel about a TB sanatorium, of a whistling sound issuing from the AP hole.  So the AP process had to be repeated at regular intervals, often called "refills", usually cited as about two weeks from what I read.  AP treatment often continued after symptoms stopped, because they wanted to be damn sure that they hadn't treated only enough to just get ahead of the TB or that this wasn’t just a temporary up-cycle, and the disease was well and truly in remission. They confirmed this in later years with actual tests for TB at regular intervals to track that progress.  I kept that two week refill schedule for Arthur, and also its effect on keeping him tethered to Las Hermanas for a few more years even after he has a more normal, active life.  I think (?) I wrote him as stopping treatments sometime in late 1902, so roughly three years total, and two years post-release as no longer actively symptomatic. All in all, I wrote a treatment that wasn't widespread at the time, but would have been very possible with the knowledge and equipment available.  I went the AP route in the end because I wanted to give Arthur more than just bed rest both for higher survival odds, and also because I think now-obsolete medical history in fiction is interesting. The effects are some of the things I noted in Arthur throughout Sunrise.  Getting jabbed with a needle every two weeks for years is going to produce some scars on the skin.  It would be a tight cluster given you wanted to place your needle very carefully, but they would exist.  We see something similar now with "track marks" in those addicted to intravenous drugs, and I think I noted Arthur or Sadie remembering Swanson having something like it in his arm from years of addiction to injected opiates.    Working on that one or one-and-partial lung during all AP refills also means that Arthur is incapable of really hard daily physical labor, even after being released from Las Hermanas.  The lung capacity, and the stamina, just isn't there.  That was one factor that impacted his ability to get a regular job, which has the effects we see in 1904 of them worrying about money. That's also because even after he's got two fully-inflated and working lungs in later years, he's still not 100%.  While the lesions on the lungs may heal and send the TB into remission, they don't become healthy lung tissue again.  They become scars that still would be visible in later years when X-rays became more common.  So there's a lack of both flexibility to contract/expand and surface area for oxygen exchange that were there with healthy tissue.  In other words, Arthur's lungs are permanently running on a reduced capacity.  His stamina and strength and resilience are going to be affected. He's never going to be exactly what he was before becoming sick due to permanent effects of the damage, as well as just the fact of him going from 36 to 48 and thus just getting into middle age.  If Sunrise was an actual playable game using the RDR2 system, I'd depict that as Arthur's Stamina and Health cores being permanently damaged and capped at a lower level than before.  Probably down 3 bars for the Wapiti chapter and his first six months at Las Hermanas (due to the near-death status initially and then massive muscle and strength loss from all that bed rest), down 2 for the next six months at Las Hermanas and all of 1901 after his release, and down 1 for 1904/1907/1911 and the rest of his life. The other thing is Arthur can't be "cured" with the medicine of the time.  That was pretty much impossible in the pre-antibiotic era given the bacteria could never be entirely killed off in the lungs.  The best you could do was get strong and healthy enough for your immune system to effectively keep the ones left contained and inactive.  So while TB survivors could live healthy, happy lives, they knew that there was always a chance that TB could always come back.  Hence Felipe chewing Arthur out more than once for pushing himself too hard and risking getting run down enough for the TB to have an easier time gaining a foothold again. So his lifestyle's permanently changed in some ways.  He learns to recognize the signs of approaching exhaustion, and having to back away from it and slow down or rest.  Sadie's necessarily become attuned to this as well.  Arthur has to learn his own limits for the sake of self-care, and I think that's not a bad thing given he'd never had any real sense of self-preservation before.  He can't just keep pushing like he used to do, telling himself he'll make up for it later.  He has to commit to taking care of himself for his sake as well as Sadie's well-being, because he knows she can't lose him, just like he can't lose her.  He has to do it later for their children too.  Recognizing that taking care of yourself for the sake of your loved ones is actually protecting and showing them love too, rather than selfishness, is a big step forward for him.  I'll do the work to take care of myself so I can better be here for you, so I don't cause you the pain of watching me suffer or die, plus the emotional and financial and logistical burdens of my not being there. As first Anon noted, he and Sadie tend to keep hush about it unless they can trust someone, given the stigma associated with TB due to fear of the disease.  At some points, Arthur has to wonder if this person knew the truth about him whether he'd be more of a pariah as a notorious outlaw or as a TB survivor.  It didn't necessarily matter that the disease was latent.  All people had to hear was "tuberculosis".  So something like the fact Drew MacFarlane as the father of a TB victim himself not only doesn't stigmatize Arthur, but is willing to work around the TB restrictions, means a lot to both Arthur and Sadie.

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC:  creamcoffeelou / @2ofusmp4 

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

last blues for bloody knuckles (34k)

“Hi, love,” A too-familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips that he brought between two fingers as his eyes raked over Louis. All Louis could do was stare, wide-eyed at the alpha that he’d left behind so many years ago. “Harry?” His voice felt far away, like it wasn’t him that was speaking. On the other side of the door stood the one man he never thought he’d see again, and maybe the only man he never wanted to see again. A few steps behind him stood Liam and someone else he didn’t recognize, with guns tucked into their front pockets. “I need you to come with me.”

OR

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

A mob au.

Adore You (23k)

When they’d first come into this lifestyle, the being in their roles in their day to day lives, Louis had struggled with it. He’d found it hard to distinguish between what Harry was doing because he thought he had to, with Louis as his dominant, and what he wanted to do just because of them being partners.

Being ‘twenty-four-seven’ in the traditional sense wasn’t exactly realistic in their life, no matter how much they tried to make it work. They could do small things within their power dynamic, they could try their best to keep it going, but more or less, it wasn’t a constant thing. Harry called it submission with weekends and bank holidays, and it worked for them.

As different as it was from what he expected, no matter what, in the end, it worked for them – and that was all that mattered.

“Can I… take care of you?” Harry had asked, his eyes looking everywhere but at Louis. Louis had just turned twenty-three, they’d been exploring things, doing new things for years, and Harry still managed to surprise him. “Like… Just do things for you like you take such good care of me.”

OR: A canon-compliant fic where Harry wants nothing more than to take care of Louis.

Running In The Shadows (43k)

Harry had a plan for his life. Work his dream job, raise his family, and settle down one day. He thrived in the ordinary. But when tragedy strikes, he has to see exactly how far hes willing to go to help the person he cares for most. Louis was never a part of that plan.

technicolor (81k)

When the small town of Twin Lakes begins experiencing a string of serial murders, a team of detectives is called in to help. Louis is the head of the team and meets a hard-headed psychic who everyone else seems to believe is the one who will solve the case. Louis isn't so sure.

OR The slow-burn, hate-to-love, crime au where Harry is a psychic, Louis is a detective, and the world is against them.

Still Standing Still (44k)

Louis has long since been following the same schedule, the same program, the same everything. He works hard towards his goals and gives everything to those that mean the most to him. Harry was never a part of the plan, but Louis finds he loves unplanned changes.

Earned It (5.4k)

There’s something so uniquely captivating to being on stage - to being the center of attention. Louis has always craved it, always craved the feeling of being desired by all only to have his own pick at the end of the night. He knows people come to see him specifically - has been told time and time again - and maybe that’s why he’s so in love with what he does. He knows he’s wanted and he loves being able to manipulate the attention of the men and women sitting in the crowd around him. 

Break Me Dow, Build Me Up (16k)

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

Just A Whisper (11k)

Strange things have happened around the castle since Louis was young. No one has ever been able to explain them and they've long since gone ignored. As the hauntings become more frequent, Louis finally reaches his last straw and calls a professional to help him.

Ready To Run (11k)

After being left at the alter by his boyfriend of five years, Louis goes on a vacation to try and clear his head and fill the empty spaces in his heart. On the way, he meets a new group of life-long friends, and maybe a little more than that.

Just To Feel (4.1k)

Reason #17: Your car's already at their place and you're too lazy to move it.

When he wakes up, his back hurts, his head is pounding, and his mouth is extremely dry. There’s too much light around him and he doesn’t remember falling asleep at all the night before, let alone getting home. But as soon as he opens his eyes, he realizes very quickly that he’s not home.

He’s managed to fall asleep on the floor of Harry Style’s flat.

The Brightest Star Shines Through The Dark (16k)

Harry and Louis build their life together from the beginning - but even losing everything can't tear them apart.

What A Feeling (2.9k)

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Louis says with a slightly forced laugh. “Yeah, cause there’s nothin’ to tell!” Liam replies with a grin, getting a cackle from Niall, and making Louis’ face flame. He can feel Harry’s soft chuckle, just because their bodies are touching. “Like you have room to talk, mate.” He bites back, but all three of them are still laughing. He really needs to get laid.

Across The Lines (28k)

With a camera in hand, Louis sets off on the road trip of his life to explore the most famous haunted houses of the UK. Things don't exactly go to plan.

End Game (54k)

Harry styles is the most feared man in London, notorious for always getting everything he wants. All of that changes when Louis comes around and opens his eyes to a new, beautiful side of the world.

Beneath These Sparkling Lights (Forever you’re mine) (5.1k)

"After years of being called a couple teasingly by both our families and friends alike, I know it was nerve wracking for the both of us when it finally actually happened. But for our entire lives we’ve always been HarryandLouis, never apart, whether we called ourselves best friends or best friends and fiancés or now best friends and husbands.” Harry’s smile is so gorgeous that Louis feels a little shake in his knees, “Through everything, the good, the sometimes weird, and the bad, I’m so glad it was you at my side. I know life is ugly sometimes, but you’re the beauty in the fight that is life, for me. My rose to my dagger."

Last Day Alive (42k)

Harry Styles was born to the leader of the Following - the organization that keeps their world peaceful and just. Without the Following, the world would only return to the ways of the Old Times and all of them would come to an untimely end. Or, so he thought, until he meets Louis, the leader of the Rebellion.

Gentle Autumn Rain (57k)

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

Down the Field (9k)

Louis, a pro football player of Chelsea, is forced to retire after a severe injury to his foot. After he recovers and is told the news that he'll never play professionally again, he decides to go coach at his old secondary school. Harry, the health teacher, loves to let him know how big of a fan he is.

I Promise (3.5k)

Harry has a promise to keep and a pair of arms to go home to.

[Loosely based on the drowning scene from Dunkirk's trailer. ]

I Chose You (13k)

When he wakes up, the room is much brighter than when he’d fallen asleep. He has to blink the sleep from his eyes and eventually he just tosses an arm over his face to try and ignore the brightness, but then he realizes that the bed has a decent sized dent in it that forms perfectly to his body and he’s comfortable. It’s – weird. He can’t remember leaving the blinds open, and it wouldn’t have made much sense for Zayn to have opened them, either, but he doesn’t think about it. Maybe he just hadn’t realized that he’d had such a nice bed when he’d fallen asleep.

After a moment, he groans and takes his arm away from his eyes and – wait. This is – this is not his hotel room. This is a bedroom.

[Or: Louis wakes up in another life.]

As We Are (48k)

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

Written In The Stars (71k)

It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he'd ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he'd expected.

[or: Zayn's the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn't approve.]

Running (28k)

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

In The Heat of The Moment (36k)

The first thing that came to Zayn’s mind when he read Liam Payne’s file was that he was certainly, definitely going to die before he was thirty. The word they used in The Office for such a case was reckless; reckless meant that, perhaps, the person wasn’t at fault, but the universe and said person’s energy didn’t happen to match. That made terrible things happen to that person.

Liam Payne was a classic case of recklessness.

[or: A modern times AU where Zayn is a guardian angel and he's been sent down to protect the most reckless human he's ever met.]