#also to the anon

[streakyglasses]

to love me so (i got you, babe)

From an anon prompt I got a while back: Chris and Street working through an unplanned, positive pregnancy test.

TW: referenced child abuse, referenced sexual assault (neither overly graphic), anxiety, concerns about disapproving families.

Read on ao3, ffn, or below the cut.

Two blue lines stare Chris in the face. Two. 

She’s faced gunmen and bombs and poison, and none of that was as terrifying as the air in her bathroom right now. Her blood rushes past her ears, her lungs strain against her ribs to try to expand, and her brain freezes. 

“Fuck,” she chokes out. The vanity is cold where her fingers claw at it, gripping so tight her knuckles turn white as her knees threaten to buckle on her. 

Fuck. 

Her mind spins as every day from the past two months replays in her mind. Every birth control pill. Every night, and afternoon, and morning with Street comes screaming back to her in technicolor. Where it would normally be comforting, now it feels like she’s searching for what went wrong. Like trying to find the missing piece that caused a car crash while she’s standing in the wreckage. 

Sweat breaks out on the back of her neck, a shiver running up her spine, and the familiar pull of her stomach bottoming out sends her crashing to her knees in front of the toilet before she can think. The small breakfast she had, the near-constant queasiness that she’s felt since Monday making it difficult to eat much of anything, comes back up. Her body heaves until her throat feels like razor blades. She groans once it’s all over, letting her head rest against the cool of the closed toilet lid while her heart stops racing. 

Peeling herself off the floor is a monumental task. She’s dizzy, the edges of her vision blurring when she gets to her feet, and she waits for it to clear before she opens the bathroom door. Her bedroom feels unfamiliar in a way it never has before as she grabs a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt and turns back to the shower. It’s as hot as she can stand it in an effort to cut through some of the—whatever—she’s feeling. 

As awful as her apartment feels, the notion of going out into the world like this feels even more dangerous. Knowing the TV won’t help and it will be hours before Street gets home, she closes her bedroom blinds and slides under the covers as her mind keeps spinning. 

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She planned to get up before Street got home. To make dinner or fold laundry and create some semblance of normalcy. But it’s easy to lose track of time and it isn’t until Street’s warm hand rests on her shoulder that she even realizes the day has gone by. Turning on her back with a groan, she sees his eyebrows crease with concern. 

“Hey, Babe. Are you still feeling sick? You could’ve called and I would’ve come home. It might be time to go to Urgent Care and see if they can give you something?”

Sterile white walls and blue latex gloves pop into her brain. Then ultrasounds and doctor’s appointments and a barrage of other scenes that she’s just barely able to keep at bay. She shakes her head to clear them as much as to answer him.

This isn’t how she wanted to do this. 

“I’m fine. Change, I’ll make dinner,” she mumbles, desperate for some control. His wrinkles grow deeper but he doesn’t fight her on it. She sits up and slides out of bed, not looking back on her way down the hall though she can feel his eyes dead center between her shoulder blades. 

Dinner is the leftovers that she made last night that she didn’t want any of, and she still doesn’t. The chicken sizzles in the pan as the veggies heat up. When Street reemerges, he sees her sipping ginger ale and tapping on the counter in an uneven rhythm. He gets down two plates and two glasses of water even though he isn’t sure she’s hungry, milling around because if he sits down the only thing he’ll do is stare at her. To curb his concern, she cuts one of the chicken breasts in half and takes a small serving of broccoli, but it mostly ends up pushed around her plate while she listens to him recount his day. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and glancing at her in his periphery. 

“We need to talk.” Chris says, her voice gravelly. She can’t look at him and keeps her eyes fixed on the stove where her reflection blurs out of focus. When he fills her vision, face more worried than before, her stomach drops again and she stands. Jerking her head, he follows without a word to her bathroom. She picks something up before he can see what it is, her face pale under the white light. 

“I realized today,” she starts, almost whispering and eyes down, “that I’m late. Between that and the—” 

Heart beating against her chest, Chris has to stop and remind herself to breathe. She risks a look at Street and can tell he isn’t quite with her. Her need to be on the same page trumps context, and she holds out the test to him, tucked into a plastic bag. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Her teeth cut into her bottom lip and she doesn’t breathe as she waits for his answer. He takes the plastic bag from her and looks at the lines like he doesn’t quite believe they’re there. Every nerve in his body turns over, but when he looks at her face and sees the uncertainty in her features, everything stops. 

“Are you okay?” 

She doesn’t know what she expects, some knee-jerk reaction of how he feels, but it isn’t that. Tears rush to her eyes once the question lands, and Street drops the plastic on the vanity to hold her instead, his hand tangling in her hair and his soft voice reaching her ear while hot tears soak into the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m here,” he tries to soothe her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. His instinct is screaming to tell her it will be okay, but he doesn’t know that, his mind starting to spin with more questions and what-ifs. All he can do is promise her his life, so he does. “I’m right here.” 

Finally in his arms, Chris feels safer than she has all day. Street knowing is a huge relief despite whatever might come next. She snakes a hand from around his back up to her cheek to wipe away some of her tears, leaving her face red and puffy. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, unsure if it's for her reaction, or the whole thing, and still unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know—”

“Hey, no,” he stops her immediately, but gently. He pulls back enough to cradle her face in his hand, heart breaking at the sight of her. 

“You’re not alone. We’re gonna figure this out. I’m sure your head’s been going all day?” Chris nods small, Street repeating the action, and he catches her eyes again. 

“Why don’t I make some tea and we can throw something on TV for a little bit? Try to give your mind a break. We can talk about it more later, or tomorrow.” 

It’s out of her nature, all of her instincts screaming to find a solution immediately, but the exhaustion in her bones is a surefire sign that he’s right so she agrees. He takes a step back and she splashes water on her face enough to get rid of the film of tears, and then follows him down the hallway.

Street feels like he’s existing outside himself as he goes around her kitchen to make tea. Her kitchen. Because they haven’t moved in together yet. Because they’ve hardly been dating for half a year. They haven’t even talked about moving in together. Haven’t talked about the future very much at all. He hasn’t even thought to talk about children. 

“Calm down,” he murmurs to himself, quiet so she can’t hear, trying to get a hold of his brain. Glancing over, he sees the tension in her shoulders and jaw as she stares at the TV, and takes a deep breath. He finishes the tea and puts extra honey in hers. When he sits next to her, he gives her a gentle smile, and she whispers her thanks.

His mind continues to turn as they settle on a remodeling show. It’s easy enough to pay attention to without actually absorbing anything, and he feels the weight of her head on his shoulder a few minutes into it. Wanting to be as close as she does, his arm wraps around her until her soft skin contrasts the cool leather against his skin. Her hands find his other to hold on his lap a few minutes later, voice not directed towards him when she speaks, but the living room as a whole. 

“This is your decision, too,” she says, an edge he can’t read to her otherwise flat voice—the tone he’s only heard her use when she’s scared. “I need you to know that.” Holding in a sigh, he squeezes her hand and kisses her head. 

“Thank you. Do you want to talk now?”

Exhausted, she shakes her head and settles back into him and the couch, making herself as small as she can. 

“No, I just wanted you to know. Before anything.”

“Okay,” he says as lightly as he can. “We’re gonna get through this, Chris.” 

“Okay,” she whispers, unable to look up from the circular stain on her coffee table. The drone of the TV eventually lulls her into enough of a sense of calm to go to bed. Street’s barely a step behind her. 

She doesn’t look at herself too closely as she gets ready for bed and waits for him to get comfortable under the covers before she turns the light out and burrows next to him. He’s surprised when she lies her head on his chest. Though he usually wakes up with an arm over her stomach or their ankles locked, she’s rarely this affectionate when they’re trying to fall asleep. Still, he welcomes the weight.

“I can hear you thinking,” she murmurs against the cotton of his t-shirt. Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her head and takes a deep breath. 

“Only ever about you. I love you.” 

Despite the fear that’s running through her veins and the way her hand keeps unconsciously finding her lower abdomen and making her flinch, she relaxes. 

“I love you, too.” 

She’s asleep not soon after. He’s glad for it, because it gives his mind plenty of room to race without extra attention. The edges of her bedroom are visible through the darkness until they morph into his childhood room and he closes his eyes against the pervasive, painful memories. 

More crop up. Ones he thought he’d long forgotten about. The scent of beer and cigarette smoke and a hot hand wrapped around his lanky arm tight enough to leave a ring of bruises. Of a hushed conversation between his parents that quickly turned into a screaming match he had no choice but to listen to: wanting another baby, not wanting another baby. His father’s enraged voice screaming he never wanted the kid they do have. 

Foster homes. Foster homes and group homes filled with tiny voices and angry teenagers and not enough food or time to go around. A vow he made to himself, when he doesn’t remember, that he’d never do to a kid what was done to him. And the paralyzing fear that the part of his father that he’s sure exists in him somewhere will jump out on its own one day, and who all will be left in the fallout. 

Sighing, Street carefully slides out from under Chris to cross back into the bathroom. He rubs at his face under the too-bright lighting until he only sees his current self and opens her cabinet to pull out a small orange bottle of tiny white pills. 

Take twice a day as needed. 

It’s now, he thinks, if there was ever a time to need them. 

He turns back to the bedroom and can just see her sleeping form in the light that floods out. He doesn’t know if it’s the sight of her or a placebo effect that seems to immediately make his heart calm down. It’s a conversation that has to be had, but not in the middle of the night. Not when he can get back under the covers and pull her close and, for all intents, it’s still just the two of them. He does. 

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Chris is awoken by a bout of nausea that sends her careening over Street and towards the bathroom. There’s little in her stomach to actually come up, but the more she thinks about what position she’s in, the worse her anxiety gets and she heaves more violently. It feels like she’s being ripped in half. 

He follows her as quickly as can. The sight of her from the bathroom doorway, so opposite of the previous night, freezes him in his own worry. A choked sob escaping snaps him from his mind and he rushes to her side. His hands are warm but shaky where they hold her shoulders steady and rub circles on her back. 

“You’re okay, I’m right here,” he tries to soothe her. When he brushes back her sweaty hair from her forehead, though, all Chris can picture is more mornings like this—for the next however many months. A hospital bed and a swollen stomach and a tiny, crying human that’s going to need things from her she’s not at all aware of or prepared to give. Things she’s not sure that she has in the first place. Street’s laugh as he chases a nameless toddler around an apartment messy with toys. Probably some spilled out next to his SWAT backpack that she’ll watch rush out the door every morning, straight towards imminent danger. 

Bile burns her throat as she wiggles out of Street’s grip and away from his voice to white-knuckle the porcelain even harder instead. Taking the hint but not willing to leave her, he sits back on his heels and watches her shoulders shake for what seems like hours. When the attack ends and she’s left feeling her own hot breath on her face, she’s exhausted. She spits into the bowl and leans back against the wall. 

“So much for calming down,” she hiccups, trying to cut through the tension. Opening her eyes she sees Street’s lips pressed together, his fists clenched to keep his own anxiety from spewing out. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, standing and handing her a shot of mouthwash followed by a glass of water. She swishes it around her mouth until the feeling of what just happened is only a memory. Looking up towards his hazel eyes, he’s holding a hand out for her, and she smiles tiredly when she takes it and he pulls her into a hug. Everything settles around them again as they sway on the tile.

“Breakfast?” He murmurs a few minutes later.

For the first time in days the mention of food makes her aware of just how ravenous her body is. She nods against him and then turns towards the sink to splash her face. 

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to eat. But yes, please.”

“Eggs and fruit?” His eyes search her face for any discomfort for uncertainty, but there’s none and she agrees, following him towards the kitchen. 

Breakfast is an easy affair, if quieter than normal. She turns on the TV to let something fill the space and starts cutting fruit while he cooks the eggs. They sit at the dining room table, her foot brushing up against his leg every few minutes, eyes meeting but never lingering. When all that’s left are crumbs and thin trails of yellow yolk over their plates, she speaks up. 

“You go first.” 

Street’s breath catches and his eyes jump to hers.

“What?” 

“Go first,” she encourages him. “I—this is your decision, too. It’ll make me feel better knowing however you feel about what you want to do. Please?” 

Raising his eyebrows, he can count on one hand the amount of times she’s been so vulnerable, even since they’ve been together. His mind grasps for a place to start as anxiety courses through him, The only thing he can think to do is push his plate to the side and reach across the gray wood to take her hand. 

“I never thought I’d be in a position to want kids.” 

It comes out before he can think it through, but at least it’s out. He can’t look at her and keeps his focus on their intertwined fingers as more pours from him that he didn’t realize he’d internalized so deeply. 

“If there’s one person I would have a kid with, it would be you.” 

Chris sucks in a sharp breath. In his periphery, he sees her nod to keep going, and reminds himself that they’re in this together. 

“But I can’t imagine my life, our life, with a child, either. I promised myself I’d never hurt a kid, not after everything… you know.” 

On a shaking exhale, he squeezes her hand tighter. Tears come to his eyes that he doesn’t try to wipe away. It’s so still, the air between them, so quiet. Fragile. He’s always been more fragile than he’s let on. Covered it up with leather and motorcycles and walking out of explosions. But sitting across from Chris with the circumstances that are in front of them, he feels stripped beyond all of those defenses. Just a fragile, scared kid himself. 

“I don’t,” he sighs, slowly bringing their gazes together and seeing the emotions etched across her face. “I don’t want to live every day of my life scared that I’ll turn into my dad and do something I’ll never forgive myself for. If having a kid means running the risk of becoming like him, or hurting you, or myself, that’s not a risk I want to take.” 

His words land and her jaw clenches as she tries to digest them all. With his other hand, he finally dries the tears that fell, wishing her to say something soon. Another moment passes. She memorizes the wood grain and hears his fears echo in her own mind.

“I agree,” she whispers. She gazes up at him even as terror seizes her blood in her veins, trying to lose herself in them so she won’t panic again. 

“I don’t want this. Not right now, at least.” 

For Street, it’s a relief. But he looks at her again and it’s clear there’s a lot more weight on her shoulders. He cocks his head in a silent question and his heart skips when her hand stars to shake in his. Her thoughts collide with reality and fly from her mouth almost too fast for him to make sense of them, only worsened by how unsteady her voice is.

“But if—when—if we’re not. We can’t tell my family.” 

She covers her mouth to try to stifle her cries and screws her eyes shut like plunging herself into darkness will make it all go away somehow. With the same urgency from barely an hour ago, he lets her go to move around the table and wrap her in his arms. She pushes her chair back to give him the space and barely moves again as he tangles his hand in her hair and starts to whisper in her ear. His guts are spinning too fast, the heaviness of the realization paired with the need to comfort her all overwhelming. 

“Okay. Shh, Chris. That’s okay. It’s just us right now. No one needs to know anything.” 

Her tears don’t last long, a momentary whirlwind that she manages to knock herself out of before it gets anymore out of hand than it already has. Pulling back, she coughs roughly and shakes her head to clear away the last of the episode. His hand catches her face and brushes over her cheekbone. He doesn’t have to vocalize the question for her to nod and them to move to the cough. 

He waits for her to get comfortable before lying next to her so they’re on their sides and facing one another, observing the ropes of tension running through and determined to help unwind them. She lies between him and the back of the couch, kept safe from the world through his body crowding hers in the way only he can, and still make her feel like she can breathe. She stares at his jaw.

“I don’t know where to start,” she whispers. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead and feels her hot exhale on his neck. “I don’t know when.” 

“Not your fault,” he counters, features soft. “Whatever or however this happened, we’re in it together.” 

His words are like a balm and her lips quirk up small. Able to set her cacophony of feelings to the side over how they got here in the first place, she shifts back to where Street’s already been for hours. 

“My mom sucked, too. Bad. I swore off kids the day she died and haven’t thought about it since. It’s just my family, and the team… as ridiculous as that is.” 

He thinks he knows where she’s headed, but he doesn’t interrupt aside from telling her that nothing she’s feeling is ridiculous. She sets her ear over his heart to hear it beat and focuses on the feel of the couch against her bare legs. 

“Aunt Helena and Uncle Sarzo,” she starts with a sigh, “they love me, but it would be a lot for them to have to process. A lot of the rest of my family wouldn’t approve, and Deac and Annie, too, I—” 

Groaning, Chris squeezes her eyes shut again and wishes she could just say what’s firing around her brain and cutting off the blood flow to her heart. 

“My family is so important to me, and I don’t want to hurt the people I love with this decision. But I can’t do it. We’re more important to me,” she finally gets out. Street understands all that goes unsaid. 

“The one thing I’ve always admired about you is how yourself you are, Chris.” He says, hearkening back years with his words and his hand splayed over her back. “I know how much your people mean to you, but this is our business. No one else’s. That’s okay.” 

“That’s not all,” she interrupts, still in her head even as it processes what he said and lets his words calm her. He looks down at her, but she’s staring into his chest. He tightens his grip, determined to hold it together when she sighs with more exhaustion than she should ever feel again.

“It’s my body.”  She finally whispers, then buries her face in his chest and breathes in his scent as deeply as she can until it blocks out the awful memories clawing at her throat.

“It’s your body,” he affirms gently, rubbing up and down her back as she speaks even softer. 

“A lot of people have had control of my body when I didn’t want them to.” 

Street feels his heart crack and tells himself he needs to keep his breathing even and his hands steady where they are. He presses ever closer, like he can shelter her from the darkness of the world forever from where they are on the couch, and feels her chest as it rises and falls. 

“I want control over myself—I need it. And I’m scared that if we tell people, even after it’s done, they’ll—say things. Try to exercise control over us, the decision we made, my body.”

Blowing out a slow breath, he pulls the unfolded blanket off the back of the couch so they’re covered, and buries his face in her hair. He doesn’t say anything and feels her arms come around him, too. Time slows as they hold one another. He thinks he feels their heartbeats sync, and breathes her in deeper.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against him a few moments later, comforted by everything familiar about him. He nods against her and kisses the top of her head, not yet pulling back to meet her eyes, but speaking low enough his breath just brushes against her ear. 

“This is our choice, and you’re in control. We don’t have to tell anyone. And if you, or we, ever decide to, I will do everything in my power to make sure no one says anything about what we chose and we did.” 

He feels her smile against him, but her tone isn’t as sure. She sounds tired when she speaks.  

“You can’t make sure of that. It’s always going to be more on me than you.” 

“I know,” he agrees, voice sad, but unwavering. “But I can make it clear that we did this together from start to end. That we made the best decision for us, not just you.” 

She closes any of the remaining space between them. He holds her tighter, his tone softening. 

“But we don’t have to worry about that right now, because we don’t need to tell anyone anything. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She guides his head down enough for their foreheads to touch and opens her eyes into his. His irises are a deep, mesmerizing web of colors that sparkle even with barely any light around them. “I love you.” “I love you, too,” he grins small, then kisses her. His hand runs through her hair. “We can go wherever we need to later, or tomorrow. Whatever you want.” 

Her eyes narrow with a minute shake of her head. 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“Together, Chris,” Street says. “Start to end. If you want me there, I’m there.” 

Her hand brushes against her stomach again, but this time it doesn’t feel like the end of the world. It feels like things will be okay. Eventually. As long as they’re together. 

“I want you there,” she says, not a trace of doubt in her words amidst her lingering concerns over what there will entail. His lips are soft and easy when they find hers, his thumb grazing over her cheekbone and their eyes locked. With the blanket cocooning them and his cologne hanging in the air she breathes, Chris is fairly certain they’re the only two people in the world. He senses her fragile calm and kisses her again. She’s certain she never wants that to change. 

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*i know this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea. i personally love stris with non-biological kids, but pregnancy/birth is very different, and i have a hard time finding my/their characterization in that situation. but not ever saying never, either! all that's to say, i appreciate the reads/tags/reblogs/asks (please let me know your thoughts! i love to talk about their characters and this show so much) esp. on a fic like this!!

xo

[goldiipond]

Top 5 women?

bro i can't even top one woman ha ha h[two drums and a cymbal fall from the ceiling killing me instantly

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[cahootings]

“their relationship is too deep to be sexual” what’s deeper than dick in hole. please tell me

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing References: Character Development

50 Questions ⚜ Backstory ⚜ Character-driven Story

Basics: How to Write a Character ⚜ A Story-Worthy Hero

Basics: Character-Building ⚜ Character Creation

Types of Characters: Key Characters ⚜ Literary Characters ⚜ Flat & Round Characters ⚜ Morally Grey ⚜ Narrators ⚜ Allegorical Characters ⚜ Archetypes ⚜ Stereotypical Characters

Worksheets: Backstory ⚜ Character ⚜ Kill your Characters ⚜ Antagonist; Villain; Fighting ⚜ Change; Adding Action; Conflict ⚜ Character Sketch & Bible ⚜ Protagonist & Antagonist ⚜ Name; Quirks; Flaws; Motivation ⚜ "Interviewing" your Characters ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character

Personality Traits

5 Personality Traits (OCEAN) ⚜ 16 Personality Traits (16PF)

600+ Personality Traits ⚜ 170 Quirks

East vs. West Personalities ⚜ Trait Theories

Tips/Editing

Character Issues ⚜ Character Tropes for Inspiration

"Strong" Characters ⚜ Unlikable to Likable

Tips from Rick Riordan

Writing Notes

Binge ED ⚜ Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Identifying Character Descriptions

Childhood Bilingualism ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ On Children

Culture ⚜ Culture: Two Views ⚜ Culture Shock

Dangerousness ⚜ Flaws ⚜ Fantasy Creatures

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness)

Emotions (1) (2) ⚜ Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Universals ⚜ External & Internal Journey

Goals & Motivations ⚜ Grammar Development ⚜ Habits

Facial Expressions ⚜ Jargon ⚜ Swearing & Taboo Expressions

Happy/Excited Body Language ⚜ Laughter & Humor

Health ⚜ Frameworks of Health ⚜ Memory

Mutism ⚜ Shyness ⚜ Parenting Styles ⚜ Generations

Psychological Reactions to Unfair Behavior

Rhetoric ⚜ The Rhetorical Triangle ⚜ Logical Fallacies

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Uncommon Words: Body ⚜ Emotions

Villains ⚜ Voice & Accent

Writing References: Plot ⚜ World-building

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues

[genericpuff]

Tbh at this point you should just make your own webcomic app/website because it would probably be 100 times better than whatever going on with webtoon right now.

hahaha it wouldn't tho, sorry 💀

Here's the fundamental issue with webcomic platforms that a lot of people just don't realize (and why they're so difficult to run successfully):

Storage costs are incredibly expensive, it's why so many sites have limitations on file sizes / page sizes / etc. because all of those images and site info have to be stored somewhere, which costs $$$.

Maintenance costs are expensive and get more so as you grow, you need people who are capable of fixing bugs ASAP and managing the servers and site itself

Financially speaking, webcomics are in a state of high supply, low demand. Loads of artists are willing to create their passion projects, but getting people to read them and pay for them is a whole other issue. Demand is high in the general sense that once people get attached to a webtoon they'll demand more, but many people aren't actually willing to go looking for new stuff to read and depend more on what sites feed them (and what they already like). There are a lot of comics to go around and thus a lot of competition with a limited audience of people willing to actually pay for them.

Trying to build a new platform from the ground up is incredibly difficult and a majority of sites fail within their first year. Not only do you have to convince artists to take a chance on your platform, you have to convince readers to come. Readers won't come if there isn't work on the platform to read, but artists won't come if they don't think the site will be worth it due to low traffic numbers. This is why the artists with large followings who are willing to take chances on the smaller sites are crucial, but that's only if you can convince them to use the site in favor of (or alongside) whatever platform they're using already where the majority of their audience lies. For many creators it's just not worth the time, energy, or risk.

Even if you find short-term success, in the long-term there are always going to be profit margins to maintain. The more users you pull in, the more storage is used by incoming artists, the more you have to spend on storage and server maintenance costs, and that means either taking the risk at crowdfunding (ex. ComicFury) or having to resort to outsider investments (ex. Tapas). Look at SmackJeeves, it used to be a titan in the independent webcomic hosting community, until it folded over to a buyout by NHN and then was pretty much immediately shuttered due to NHN basically turning it into a manwha scanlation site and driving away its entire userbase. And if you don't get bought out and try your hand at crowdfunding, you may just wind up living on a lifeline that could cut out at any moment, like what happened to Inkblazers (fun fact, the death of Inkblazers was what kicked off the cultural shift in Tapas around 2015-16 when all of IB's users migrated over and brought their work with them which was more aimed towards the BL and romancee drama community, rather than the comedy / gag-a-day culture that Tapas had made itself known for... now you deadass can't tell Tapas apart from a lot of scanlation sites because it got bought out by Kakao and kept putting all of its eggs into the isekai/romance drama basket.)

Right now the mindset in which artists and readers are operating is that they're trying way, way too hard to find a "one size fits all" site. Readers want a place where they can find all their favorite webtoons without much effort, artists wants a place where they can post to an audience of thousands, and both sides want a community that will feel tight-knit. But the reality is that you can't really have all three of those things, not on one site. Something always winds up having to be sacrificed - if a site grows big enough, it'll have to start seeking more funding while also cutting costs which will result in features becoming paywall'd, intrusive ads, creators losing their freedom, and/or outsider support which often results in the platform losing its core identity and alienating its tight-knit community.

If I had to describe what I'm talking about in a "pick one" graphic, it would look something like this:

(*note: this is mostly based on my own observations from using all of these sites at some point or another, they're not necessarily entirely accurate to the statistical performance of each site, I can only glean so much from experience and traffic trackers LMAO that said I did ask some comic pals for input and they were very helpful in helping me adjust it with their own takes <3).

The homogenization of the Internet has really whipped people into submission for the "big sites" that offer "everything", but that's never been the Internet, it relies on being multi-faceted and offering different spaces for different purposes. And we're seeing that ideology falter through the enshittification of sites like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. where users are at odds with the platforms because the platforms are gutting features in an attempt to satisfy shareholders whom without the platforms would not exist. Like, most of us aren't paying money to use social media sites / comic platform sites, so where else are they gonna make the necessary funds to keep these sites running? Selling ad space and locking features behind paywalls.

And this is especially true for a lot of budding sites that don't have the audience to support them via crowdfunding but also don't have the leverage to ask for investments - so unless they get really REALLY lucky in EITHER of those departments, they're gonna be operating at a loss, and even once they do achieve either of those things there are gonna be issues in the site's longevity, whether it be dying from lack of growing crowdfunding support or dying from shareholder meddling.

So what can we do?

We can learn how to take our independence back. We don't have to stop using these big platforms altogether as they do have things to offer in their own way, particularly their large audience sizes and dipping into other demographics that might not be reachable from certain sites - but we gotta learn that no single site is going to satisfy every wish we have and we have to be willing to learn the skills necessary to running our own spaces again. Pick up HTML/CSS, get to know other people who know HTML/CSS if you can't grasp it (it's me, I can't grasp it LOL), be willing to take a chance on those "smaller sites" and don't write them off entirely as spaces that can be beneficial to you just because they don't have large numbers or because they don't offer rewards programs. And if you have a really polished piece of work in your hands, look into agencies and publishing houses that specialize in indie comics / graphic novels, don't settle for the first Originals contract that gets sent your way.

For the last decade corporations have been convincing us that our worth is tied to the eyes we can bring to them. Instead of serving ourselves, we've begun serving the big guys, insisting that it has to be worth something eventually and that it'll "payoff" simply by the virtue of gambler's fallacy. Ask yourself what site is right for you and your work rather than asking yourself if your work is good enough for them. Most of us are broke trying to make it work on these sites anyways, may as well be broke and fulfilled by posting in places that actually suit us and our work if we can. Don't define your success by what sites like Webtoons are enforcing - that definition only benefits them, not you.

[magicicephoenix]

Sun you wont believe it something crazy just happen wait crazy i was crazy once-

driving sun crazy insane!! ft. everyone’s lovely reactions 💕

(context)

[retquits]

autumn balor 🍂

[technically-human]

Payneland² 

[hinamie]

mentor

[velvetwyrme]

aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop

the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"

and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.

i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)

Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.

The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!

I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.

I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW

Other art notes:

The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.

Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.

Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.

This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)

Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.

Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[speltfields]

when ur bff deleted system 32 so now you have to fix his stupid laptop or something

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)