#but i think i'm finally feeling the itch of writing and drawing a lot more. maybe especially because i don't have all day anymore.

[soultoken-archived]

john?

he shivers, pulling the coat stronger on himself. all the alcohol in his veins almost made him forget to be outside in the middle of the winter night, but now he's starting to feel it again. his liquor stained breath condenses in the chilling air, looking like the smoke he can't have because he ran out of cigarettes. it's freezing. but he's not moving. his eyes wander up, to the apartment he's been sitting in front of. his old apartment. their old apartment.

johnny...

a silhouette moves behind the curtains. maybe someone going for a glass of water, maybe it's just his own imagination. or maybe a ghost. but who or whatever that is, it has the same silhouette of des. it stands near the window for a moment, stretches. then it's gone. maybe they got back to bed. like he used to do, when john would call him, sleepily lying there after the only truly restful nights of his life. he would call him, and des would lie down again, just a little longer. just for him. but john didn't do the same. no, he had to sacrifice the only man he truly cared about to save his stupid, pathetic life.

you drank again, didn't you?... i know. don't worry. i know it's not easy to stop. but you promised me, johnny.

he realizes he's crying only when he feels his tears getting colder in the freezing air. why did he think he could handle a normal life with des? why did he think he could even remotely have a right for such a life? to try and take it, he ended up taking des' too, and they both lost them. if only he could stay away from him, if only he could stop lying to himself, saying stupid things like i can do this, i can live with him, everything will be okay, everything will get fixed, des would still be his own person, he would be free. and instead, he had to try and take it. the normal life. the life that he was never meant to have. and he just can't stop hearing his voice, now.

don't worry. i'll help you. you'll do better next time.

and he's always so kind. so extremely kind. and he doesn't deserve it. he doesn't deserve him. he never did.

you promised me, johnny.

but i can't keep any promise.

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 5 - MONTH 4 - COMMUNITY

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

It took another month after my check-in, after starting the correct dosage, for my transformation to stabilize and stop hurting all the time. My bones have settled down, my tail is getting long enough to get in the way which is honestly more exciting than annoying, and I've even got little bitty claws pushing out of my fingers! The mechanisms for retracting and extending them haven't grown yet, though, so I just… am sharp now.

It's actually become kind of a bloody inconvenience, and I use the term 'bloody' very literally. The first few times I went to go scratch an itch, I'd end up drawing blood, and having to go clean myself up and put on a bandage. I thought about clipping my claws, but I have no idea if that's going to stunt their development or have consequences when I can finally retract them, and it's not something that seems worth bothering Dr. Erian about. The biggest problem is that sometimes I'll move my arms in my sleep, and there's no way of telling what'll be in the way. I've already had to conduct emergency repairs on three plushies, and my bedsheets are kind of a write-off.

I was a little afraid of the pain subsiding, if I'm being honest, because it means going back to work, which means existing in a public space with my half-human half-something-else face. It's still cold enough that I can wear a scarf and toque over the more off-putting features, but that won't last much longer and it's not something I can do indoors. I'm just going to have to face the truth…

I don't pass as human anymore.

My first day working in-person again, my supervisor walks into my office with the intention of welcoming me back, but what actually happens is he stands in the doorway dumbfounded before asking, "Now what in the world happened to your face??"

For all the time I had, I never actually managed to think of a clever lie, so I just tell him it's a side effect of some new meds I'm taking. Technically not a lie, if you ignore the word 'side'. Fortunately, he doesn't ask what's wrong with me. I'm not looking forward to having to tell someone who doesn't get it that Being Human counts as Something Wrong.

Work has been alright, though, if a bit dull. My coworkers mostly leave me to my own devices to get things done.

It's doing anything else that becomes an issue.

I get lots of stares in the grocery store or the mall. I'm not sure whether it's the inhuman face that does it, or the fact that I nearly always wear t-shirts and my fur is now growing up to my wrists. I think it's growing faster now that it's run up against peak arm hair territory. Either way, I basically don't dare set foot outside without my partner in tow. Nobody's tried anything yet, but I see them shying away from me, and just the other day a little kid called me a 'monster'. It's… still eating at me.

I never could take being the centre of attention.

It's not all doom and gloom, though. I don't know whether the tactile senses of my hands have changed or it's something psychological, but that thing cats do where they knead something with their claws? "Making biscuits" I've heard it called?

It feels soooo niiiice.

Last weekend I went to take an afternoon nap, and ended up spending a solid half hour just squishing my blahaj with my hands (or would that be 'paws' now?) All the stress from the previous week just… melted away. It was like an ASMR video for my sense of touch.

Is it bad that I'm really enjoying being a little more cat-brained?

I've also become RAVENOUSLY hungry. As in, "destroy an entire rotisserie chicken in one sitting" hungry. The meat cravings have kicked in, HARD, and I've basically lost my appetite for bread and pasta. You really don't realize how much human food is grain-based until you stop wanting to eat it…

All the big changes hitting at once are getting hard to withstand sometimes. There are nights when I go to bed absolutely euphoric about how it's finally happening, I'm finally embodying everything I'm supposed to be! But there are also nights when I cry myself to sleep because oh gods, what was I thinking, why am I doing this to myself, I look and feel like a godsdamned circus freak, and it really doesn't help to remember that white tigers are pretty much universally victims of inbreeding and abuse.

In a moment of weakness, I catch myself eyeing the remaining contents of the HRT bottle. I ran some numbers a little while back and figured out that at the recommended dose, this bottle is an entire 18-month treatment, give or take. Well, 12 months now, I guess, since I was accidentally taking a triple dose for the first three months. The fact that it's a diluted Fifteen Minute formula means that if I just brace myself and chug the entire rest of the bottle, that would finish out the treatment in one go, wouldn't it? It… probably wouldn't even hurt as much as doing Fifteen-Minute from the start, right?

My partner walks in on me holding it and staring at it, and asks what I'm doing, so I explain my thought process. They just silently put one hand on mine and use the other to gently remove the bottle from my grasp.

"But I -", I begin to protest.

"No."

"I keep getting stared at and -"

"No."

"That one little girl called me a monster!"

"No."

I start crying, and I can't help raising my voice. "If I just finish it all NOW then maybe -"

"NO."

They set the bottle down and pull me into a tight hug, pinning my upper arms to my sides. "I love you very much, and I don't want to see you hurt yourself. You went into this knowing it was gonna suck for a while, and right now it sucks, but it's not worth risking your life over."

I don't have a counter-argument. I just lower my face onto their shoulder and sob. "I just… I don't want to keep doing this alone anymore! I need… I need help! Support, guidance, SOMETHING!!" I cling to them, digging my fingers, my claws, into their back. "I don't want to be the only one…"

"You aren't.", they reassure me quietly. "Didn't you tell me yourself that there's a bunch of people doing this? We even saw a whole crowd of them at that seafood place."

"Y-yeah, but I don't know anybody local!"

"Then find them online. It's better than nothing, isn't it?"

"It's… It's just not the same…"

They pat me on the back. "Just… try. For me."

They let me cry into their shoulder for another several minutes before I let them go.

Back at my computer, I sit down and start searching for a humanity removal therapy support group. A Discord server, a Facebook group, a Tumblr sideblog, ANYTHING. Gods help me, I'm even looking to TWITTER for help. Even as a human I was a solitary creature, and tigers are about as solitary a creature as they come, so it takes a lot of effort to bring myself to reach out. I end up doing it right before I go to bed, just firing off a few quick messages to some figures in the community, then forcing myself not to look at social media the rest of the night. For all my growth, I'm still a bit terrified of being noticed.

By the time I wake up, some of them have gotten back to me. I… wasn't expecting it to be so fast.

It turns out there's a private group chat where a bunch of them hang out on the regular to talk about what they're going through. They sound open to the idea of bringing me in, but want to get to know me a little better first. I don't blame them for wanting to keep to themselves. I get to talking with one of them, a lamia-to-be, and through our conversations I get the distinct impression that, well, I'm not alone in feeling alone. Somehow I manage to convince her I'm worth knowing and having around, and she sends me an invite to the group chat server.

Time to face the mortifying ordeal of being known.

I go through all the typical new-to-the-server motions. I read the rules page - it's the usual "don't be a dick" type stuff, with some bonus content applicable to our unique situation, like not stereotyping based on species, and a reminder to not present your own experiences with humanity removal as universal fact. Then into the welcome channel to type up a quick introduction:

"Hey all, I'm Alexis, transfem (she/her), 38, 4 months white tiger HRT. Interests include gaming, tabletop RPGs, costuming, and witchcraft. Looking forward to getting to know everyone!"

A few people react with heart emojis and tiger emojis. Discord only has the standard orange tiger as an emoji, but, you know, close enough. One person reacts with a witch emoji, and it gives me a laugh.

There's a channel for serious questions about the transformation process, so I decide to hop in and fire off a quick one:

"Not that I mind this, but why am I so hungry for meat now? It hit around the 3 month mark and now I can eat an entire roast chicken in one go"

Over the course of the next hour or so, a few people weigh in. The consensus is that my body is entering a 'bulking up' phase, and needs a ton of protein to generate muscle. Just out of curiosity I go to do an online search to confirm something, and yeah, tigers are a lot more proportionally muscular than humans are. Someone else suggests taking calcium supplements to help with bone growth, unless I'm prepared to drink a LOT of milk. I am in fact prepared for that, but it couldn't hurt to drop by the pharmacy.

It also turns out that the server isn't just for people who have started their HRT, but for aspiring humanity-removers as well. There's even a channel specifically for advice navigating the whole process, including how to convince your medical provider that you're for real and you won't immediately regret it when the itching/soreness/bleeding kicks in.

One of the regular posters is a teenage girl with a corvid avatar who asks a lot of questions about what it's like to become nonhuman. Surprisingly, she's not trans like most of us are, but she is queer. It sounds like she's not in a stable situation, though - she asks at one point if anyone can think of a way to get the meds without her parents noticing.

The problem is, even if that's a possibility, someone would notice when she starts sprouting black feathers and a beak.

---

(guest cameo from @ariathelamia!)

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

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Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye  to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing  a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

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Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917​, @trawberry-fire​ , @dreamy-caramel​, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

[flymetosnarryland]

A little progress.

I'm working on "Infraction." My precious baby, uh. This art is part of it in a way. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. When people are falling in love everything seems easy, but then life happen.

(I'd like to talk about how things are going with Infraction.)

I'm back on it since couple of weeks and working on it is intense (my brain is literally boiling). I don't think I ever planned a story for that long. The first idea has born 6th January this year. I was writing down (like crazy) everything I wanted to be in this fic. During first months it was chaotic and messy, but brought me so much joy. When I've had everything that (I thought) I needed, I wrote first chapters, yeah. And then shared them, because was so excited about all of it and just couldn't wait. Gosh.

Now I... hm... well, maybe not "regret" it, but I think, I totally should have wait. Why is that? First thing first, this story is not ready yet for being written in, you know, final version. It's too fat, lol.

I may want too much from it. There is a lot, like, seriously, A LOT of things to cover. First notes took me around 80 pages and it had many gaps in it (too much if you ask me). Things I needed to figure out and fill in, in the same time making everything work together. Because this Snarry is not sprinkled with crime. It's filled with murder, political shenanigans, family shiteshow and tough, not always appropriate, love. There are secrets and lies, blackmails and history that matter. Backstory of many people, whose actions over the years supposed to bring us to the point where we are now. And, you know, all of it gives me the thrill. First time in my life I feel like a true Puppet Master.

So, couple weeks ago I started to write a proper outline, if I can call it like that. To put everything in order and, going from the very beginning, to fill all the gaps. To answer all the questions I was asking myself in notes. To figure out the missing clues, some details without I couldn't go further and with that - to find out how characters will change facing new situations. How they will grow (I really love this part). Sometimes I think, "why am I even doing it?" I could just write some cosy, little fic where Harry and Severus' silly problems would be the main goal of the story. Like, focusing on them should be enough, right? Why am I going for all the other things, if I just want them to shag and have their happy end after all? 😂

Well, if it's not for fun, I don't know the other reason. The level of excitement is just incredible. I don't know, if what I'm writing is good or bad. If it really has sense, because I've always seen myself rather as a potato, not as a great mastermind who can plot some good shite, you know. That said, "Infraction" feels even more challenging that I ever thought it will be. But I feel deep inside that I can do it. Going step by step where the main plan leads and... it just feels good.

I've started in October 1989. Now I'm in January 2011. It means that I managed to finish everything that happen before the fic starts, lol. And, actually, I almost covered the first part of the book. So, two more to go? Hehe. It'll take time, yes. It's crazy how much I want to continue writing the main chapters, not only swim in the plan-phase. Drawing the series of "Muggle London" art helped me a lot with easing this itch. However, it's still there. I know, though, that I have to finish it. The whole outline, I mean. Without it, things can go south.

That said, I can't tell how long it will take. Couple weeks? Maybe months. This is really... a lot of work and I want to be proud of it. Even more so, because this fic means a lot to me. I know it may not be, you know, mind blowing or something. But I hope that giving it all my love, it could be, you know, not that bad for reading, hehe.

[disgruntledkittenface]

annual* writing self evaluation

thank you @kingsofeverything and @nouies for tagging me!

1. List of works published this year:

I Choose You

when we're finished saying nothing

count me in

too into you

routine surveillance

you wanna be on top?

Suddenly Last Summer

if i'm being honest

it's a holidate

Red

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Suddenly Last Summer. I let myself let go and have fun and write exactly what I wanted, and I love the way it turned out.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate this questionnnn

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I love this bit from Red, the fic I wrote for @crinkle-eyed-boo birthday:

When Harry turns his head to bite Louis’ earlobe, Louis buries his face in Harry’s hair, breathing him in. He detects a faint whiff of smoke, and frowns.

“Did you smoke?”

Harry presses his face into Louis’ neck, nodding. 

“Oh, no,” Louis says, rubbing a soothing hand over Harry’s bare back. “I know you hate to smoke without me.”

Louis barely hears the whisper as Harry says, “I’m sorry,” since he doesn’t bother to lift his lips from Louis’ skin. But then Harry says it again, louder, following it with a kiss against Louis’ neck. And then again, over and over, leaving apologies and kisses against Louis’ skin like he wants them to stay, as permanent as the ink of their tattoos. Louis sags against the wall, trusting Harry to hold his weight, as the relief finally hits him. Harry hates apologizing, even when he knows he’s wrong. And Louis can’t even remember who was wrong, and more than that, he doesn’t care. He just wants Harry back. He doesn’t need Harry to beg, and it feels like that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. 

“Baby,” Louis says at last. “Stop, stop it. I’m sorry.”

A tear slips down Louis’ neck, and he wrinkles his brow in confusion. He hasn’t cried in several minutes, a record for him today, if not every day since the breakup. But then a sob wracks Harry’s body, his grip tightening on Louis as his shoulders shake. 

“Oh, baby,” Louis says, petting Harry’s hair. “No, baby, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“I just missed you,” Harry chokes out. When he draws back, it’s Louis’ turn to smooth away his tears. “I missed you so fucking much, Lou.”

“I missed you, too,” Louis says, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “We’ve never been this stupid before, have we?”

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I really loved getting both @kingsofeverything and @allwaswell16 reactions to Suddenly Last Summer! Lauren theorized via voice note and I was glued to my email while Anitra commented as she read, and it all just felt really good!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

I'm not going to lie, writing was not that hard this year. I think I was just picking things I really wanted to write for myself. And it was a good coping mechanism when things were hard in my personal life. But honestly, it kind of feels like dumb luck because I've definitely had my share of writing block.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I don't know where the itch to write dark Harry in routine surveillance came from!! That took me by surprise, and I loved doing it.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think just by writing for myself. I always wish I had different stats on my fics, but I can't write with trying to please people in mind.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I don't know! Keep writing for myself and being the weirdo who likes to do lots of different things.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

I am fortunate to have a lot of support!! This year, I really noticed the lovely comments I was getting from @nouies <3

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Yes! Just about everything that the cat does in if i'm being honest has been done by one of my new cats. It's my love letter to them.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

I don't think I have much new wisdom. I always say pay attention to the writing advice that works for you, and ignore the rest. I think telling a story and making people feel something matters more than the technique, but I also say that as someone who has spent a lot of time on technique so don't listen to me if you don't want to!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I want to write a girl direction When Harry Met Sally AU and make it VERY GAY and I'm excited about it!!

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@neondiamond @homosociallyyours @absoloutenonsense

*All answers should be about works published in 2023

[if-confessions]

I've been in the IF fandom for almost two years now, and I don't think I've ever found a fandom I've liked as much. I like the community here, the stories, creativity, how diverse the games are compared to other media I see.

I like reading IF, but more than that I'd really to create an IF game myself. I've been creating stories since childhood and I've always wanted to tell them to other people. However, I was never able to find a suitable medium for doing so. Creating video games is a passion that met reality and died too fast, writing traditional books makes me incredibly anxious, and comic and visual novels require way too much drawing when I'm a concept artist at best. And IF... IF seems to be exactly what I was always searching for. But here's a twist.

I'm not a writer. I'm really not. The amount of writing that I've done that wasn't for my studies is... not a lot. Which makes me extremely self-conscious of my writing, and I'm a very anxious person to start with (and English not being my native language doesn't help). I just don't know where to start, I've never even written fanfiction. And then if I end up actually writing something and posting it for people to see, I'm afraid of what they'll say, of me not being good enough, or of people being uninterested in anything I create. It's dreadful really. And I know that this feeling is possibly shared by so many other people, but I just don't know what to do about it.

I had wanted to post this earlier, but Tumblr ate my essay again...

Welcome, Anon, to the wonders of IF! Have a seat, and a cookie, and enjoy the ride! It's quite the experience, you'll see...

Totes understand your worries. With so many good projects out there, it's easy to not feel... adequate (in writing or proficiency); and with many in the community having opinions, to be unsure whether to publish said work.

But here's the thing: many of us in the IF community (especially as hobbyist) have not studied writing (for a while or at all)* or are writers either, and quite a few of us are ESL (hi, hello!)**. So you are in very good company!! *sidenote: some of us consider ourselves game dev/creators before writers too. **Dear... you wrote an essay of an ask with no mistake (that I could find) - I would not have guessed you were not a native speaker, if you hadn't said it before.

To relieve those anxious feelings, here are some advice, from one ball of anxiety to another one:

You don't have to publish anything you don't want to have public. If you prefer to write for yourself and yourself only, it's more than fine. Having fun is what matters.

There are ways to "hide" your project from searches (on itch or tumblr) to have a bit more privacy, as well as disabling replies/comments/ratings...

Setting boundaries from the beginning with people interacting with your projects (whether it is in asks, or doing beta/feedback rounds/etc...) can also be quite helpful (even if some people don't follow them...).

Join writing groups and share snippets/ask for feedback. It's helpful to get some boosts of confidence and get pointers on how to improve.

Have beta/playtest rounds for longer feedback needs (like when you are ready to upload/update a demo, to catch bugs or typos and stuff).

Joining game jams with small projects can help with testing ideas/stories/gameplay, and get comments/feedback from people.

Anyway, we all start somewhere, and very often (most always) that somewhere is not good at all. But that's ok :) There's always room and time for improvement and change (until you're finally happy with it). The beauty of online games is that you can always tweak it and fix it when something doesn't feel right. Nothing is ever set in stone!

Good luck :)

[all-pacas]

ted and lily (just as friends), "did you really not know?"

i uh. forgot to put the sentence in. but it's here in spirit???? how do i write lily i don't know. set sometime around/after 'no pressure' in s7.

Lily opens the door to what had been Robin's bedroom. Peers inside, closes it, then yanks the door open again.

"Hasn't changed since ten seconds ago!" Ted says bracingly, collapsing onto the sofa. "Have you seen her new place? Central Park views."

"TV money," Lily says enviously. "You gonna be okay living on your own?" She's deeply pregnant, and Ted is too smart to call her walk to the sofa waddling. It is.

"Sure," he lies. Concession to her third trimester, he has a bottle of Mexican Coke instead of a beer. Picks at the label all the same; it's sweeter than he expected. Ted hasn't lived alone since... ever. Since the week and a half Marshall and Lily had been on their honeymoon.

Lily sits with a grunt. "I bet Barney would rent the room from you."

"No."

"I'm just sayin'. You could get a lot out of him, he's pretty rich."

Ted grins.

Lily's just itching to interrogate him, but settles for tapping her fingers menacingly along her belly. "I told her I loved her," he says, giving in. "Okay? That's why she moved out."

He's just about positive Lily already knows, and true enough, she grimaces but doesn't fake any kind of shock. Why else come here alone, oohing and awwing over an empty bedroom?

"I'm not upset," he adds. Lily looks summarily unimpressed. "Okay, I'm not thrilled. But --"

"It's for the best."

He sighs. "Yeah." Lately Ted feels like he needs a flowchart to make sense of everyone. Everything. Who lives where, who wants who. Sometimes he's sure he knows Robin inside and out after hundreds of mornings and bowls of cereal. Sometimes that feels like love. Sometimes that feels like suffocation. When they had dated, they'd rarely had breakfast in the mornings. "I asked her if she loved me too, and..." he trails off.

"She does love you," Lily says, but they both know what she means.

"I'm not upset," Ted says again. "Okay. I am upset. But." He grimaces. Stares up at the ceiling, willing his words to fall into order. Robin had always been there. On this couch, in her room, at the bar. Waiting. They'd been waiting. He'd been waiting, and not even realizing it. Why search for the one? Why put in the effort? Look at his last few years. Victoria, who he'd betrayed. Stella, who'd betrayed him. Zoey, and the ways they'd hurt one another. And then Robin. "I think a part of me just assumed... well, she'll grow out of it."

Lily makes a sound. He gives her a look. She looks everywhere around the apartment, innocent as can be.

"Lill," he says, drawing out her name --

"Okay, fine!" she huffs. "It's just." She's trying not to smile. "Did it ever occur to ya Robin felt the same way?"

"She isn't in love with me. She was pretty clear." She'd been sad. That was the worst part. If she'd been any less than devastated, he might not have believed her, might still be hoping, even with her moved out, uptown, away.

"No. But maybe she also was thinking you'd grow out of it." Lily makes a face. "If, you know. Growing out of it meant 'stop wanting marriage and kids and normal grownup stuff like that.'"

He thinks he could be okay without kids. But the fact that Ted doesn't immediately jump to saying it, again -- he sips his coke. The idea that Robin has been waiting for him to change, waiting for something of her own... that's disquieting. He doesn't know why. It should be good news. Everything he's hoped for. Hope.

He wonders if he's the one she's been waiting for.

He glances over at Lily. "So you're here to comfort me in my heartbreak?" He manages a smile. It's not her usual job, since Lily seldom approves of his girlfriends. She's typically more likely to sit him down and explain all the reasons why Zoey was a bitch.

"Nah," she admits. "I'm here because I love you, and I love Robin, and I am so glad she finally moved out and put an end to this weird pining thing. In a healthy and loving way."

"Hear, hear," he says, raising his soda.

"You both gotta move on."

"Couldn't agree more."

"I told Robin, too. No more games. No more waiting. She can do way better than you."

"Ouch," he says, joking.

"And you can do better than her."

In his heart, he's still not sure.

Lily huffs. "And I'm here to make you get me some nachos from downstairs."

"I can do that one." He helps her to her feet, Lily puffing from the exertion. "Marshall meeting us?"

"He's working late tonight. Barney isn't picking up his cell." With Robin doing the 7 o'clock broadcast, she won't join them before nine.

"Looks like it's just you and me," Ted says. For a second he wants to give her a hug. He bumps against her shoulder. Lily shoves him. "Is it weird, hanging around a bar all the time when you're on your nineteenth month of pregnancy?"

"Ooh, make fun of the pregnant chick. Here I thought Barney was gonna be missing tonight..."

They head downstairs together.

[rriavian]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (i don't know if you do these sorts of chain-letter things, or if you'd prefer not to, but for my part i do like to know which of their works a given author is especially hype on, so consider this an opportunity to gush!)

Thank you for the ask! Ooh I'm happy to be tagged/sent chain-letter things, though sometimes I might I miss one or take a while to answer. Ok so I’ve been going back and forth over this for a few weeks, because I’ve written far more than I ever thought I would and it’s really, really hard to pick favourites!

I’m really sorry for the delay, but here are 5 of my Sandman fic self recs:

Baiting the Trap – Corintheus oneshot. I feel like this one was almost a given, it’s the fic that started it all, and as much as I remember spending weeks and weeks agonising over whether to post it I had a lot of fun writing it. Still the fic I’m most known for I think! I feel a little self-conscious recommending my own work (and to be honest I spent far too long trying to word a description of this fic!) but this is essentially Dream choosing not to destroy the Corinthian after the Convention. Think Dream deigning to play a game of 3D chess with his nightmare for the very first time, but in a sexy way, and the Corinthian thinking he’s winning right up to the final move…also in a sexy way.

Deliverance – Corintheus again, currently 5/6 chapters. Season one AU where the Corinthian’s curiosity gets the better of him and he visits Dream while he’s trapped by Burgess and ends up breaking him out. He’s quite pissed off about it too. We get a love confession, a trip to the Dreaming, and then a Corintheus version of Dream’s quest to retrieve his tools. A little bit soft, a little bit angsty, with the Corinthian’s unique mix of love, rage and possessiveness shining through in varying degrees. I almost didn’t rec this as it’s incomplete but I am very very fond of it! The last chapter is very nearly finished, I just need to sit down and really work through it.

Astronomers – Lucienne/Dream oneshot. A ficlet based on a prompt from @bobbole. Soft and sweet, filled with mutual devotion. I adore the relationship between these two and there are some fascinating parallels I’d been itching to explore. I think they are the same flavour of workaholic just in different species—both proud characters with incredible dedication to the Dreaming, and to each other, and I wanted to capture the intimacy of their relationship. The sheer depth to it is portrayed so well in the show. Ahh I need to write more for them!

Lead the Way – Orpheus & Dream, one of two one shots I’ve written for them and it was very hard to choose! This was another fantastic prompt from bobbole. It’s a human AU where Dream is teaching Orpheus how to cross the road, which can be very daunting to a child. Sweet family fluff, Dream’s meticulous approach to even the simplest of things. This one is very special to me because it’s inspired by a real memory from my childhood, so I hope you enjoy it if you do give it a read! I really wish I could draw because the image of little Orpheus holding Dream’s hand as they wait to cross the road is adorable.

A slow advancing tide – let’s end on more Corintheus shall we! 4/4 chapters, a gift for @aisalynn. 5+1 fic where either the Corinthian or Dream end up nearly unconscious while in the others company. It definitely has some of my favourite prose, as well as exploring one of my favourite tropes. The Corinthian all relaxed and dazed flirting with Dream after a punishment? Dream high af for (spoilery) reasons and refusing to keep his hands to himself? So much fun to write! I always love scenarios where I can explore how powerful characters act in moments of vulnerability, though anyone whose read my work probably knows my approach to it tends to be unexpected.

Again, thank you for the ask!! This has definitely reminded me how lucky I am to have such incredible friends who've sent me such amazing prompts (though I’ve also got a fair few still unfinished, which I feel really bad about because I love writing for prompts and you’ve all been so kind to indulge me!). It’s been a bit of a slow year, but hopefully picking up a bit now.

If you’ve read these already then I hope you enjoyed them <3 and if you haven’t then I hope you enjoy any that interest you :)

[cindersalad]

It's time for the usual end of the year thoughts post on this blog. Horay!

Hey, hello. ❤ I hope you're having a fantastic day, or that it'll get better if it's not a good day! It's the last week of the year, another Christmas has gone by ('thankfully', whispers I, a very Grinch-y person), and I'm sitting here thinking about my year. And what a year. It has been a roller coaster, and on the personal level I got probably the most full year I've had in the latest, what, six years? I'm learning to kind of manage my anxiety, I'm learning to ask for help when I can't (which is probably the biggest thing)... I got a job, too, finally! It'll start the first days of next year, which will reduce a lot my free time, but I've never been happier. I feel useful.

But scrolling through my blog I also fully realized that this has probably been the least productive year in terms of drawings. I think I've posted only 11 drawings, not even one per month, and in general I think I've spent... months? not even touching a drawing supply. It was probably for the best: I really needed to fix some stuff. To finish some of the things I started, too. But, man, did I miss drawing. I think it's one of the biggest voids I had this year, together with just... telling stories. Any story, in any format. I miss drawing comics, I miss writing stories, I just miss it.

Next year it will be a whole new story. With the job starting and a lot of other big changes already in plan, if this year seemed to me full I can't even imagine how I'll feel next year, but for some reason I feel having a lot less free time will make me use that little window a lot better of having an entire free day. I want to return drawing much more frequently, I want to return telling stories! It probably won't be immediate, but I have a lot of sketched illustrations that I want to continue, and my itch for taking the pencil daily is returning stronger than ever. I want to post more often, my sketches as well, despite always feeling so insecure about them. Perhaps some processes, too? And I want to return to write. I have so many stories in my mind, and a lot would work very well as fanfictions - I wanted to draw most of them, but I suddenly realized that I could very well write them too. Nothing stops me from adapting parts of those fanfics into fancomics in the future, anyway! Writing entire stories in my second language won't be easy (and at least one of the fanfics I have in mind will probably be in Italian and I'll have to see if to translate it), but I roleplay a lot in English, so I feel pretty confident. >:)

I don't know what I'll manage to do next year, I'm not setting any real goal in terms of productivity here, but... man, I really wish I can start an original comic this time. Humbert's story and Avi's story are both really well darn developed, but going from notes to an actual flashed out story is a step that has been too big for me for now. But with all I accomplished this year, maybe the step is becoming more and more doable. ❤

Anyway, I've kept you here long enough. ❤ I'm not sure how much stuff I'll actually manage to make, but a year is longer than we think! Everything I'll do, you'll receive updates here, so worry not! Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time despite the very few updates, of all your patience and support, comments and messages. You're the best! ❤ I hope you'll have a fantastic day, and that your future will be golden and full of good things. Take care, and I will see you next year! ❤

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello my lovely loveliest dearest favorite quil <333 I have finally actually returned with a slight rebrand and many tales to tell.

How are you bestie!!! I missed you So SO much and it's literally so rude that I can't send you all of the things that make me think of you. Like I swear my partner is gonna be jealous at this point because I'm literally like omg I literally need to show this to quil. It is a necessity. (If you're wondering it was a hoodie that had the classic university logo and said Silly Goose University and I decided that we needed them to match with our friendship bracelets.)

Anyway I am eyeing your new writing up very very closely and am itching to go to Ao3 and read ALL of it. (The urge is quite strong now that I have started Thinking about it, however this ask is taking long enough bc I have to take Wiggle™ breaks because holy bestie I am SO happy to talk to you once again.)

Speaking of your writing I was struck with the most incredible fantastic amazing art idea after looking at some of my old wings AU doodles. However, my drawing tablet went through the shredder (<- Puppy) I have to WAIT. To give the full idea justice but trust me bestie I'm so excited to show it to you.

Anyway I've been extra ramble-y but HI HOW ARE YOU I MISSED YOU WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOUR LIFE.

I'd love all of your thoughts and feelings and I miss you and ily and I'm so happy like I kid you not this ask has taken. So much effort because I cannot sit still writing this to you. I have. The Dumbest Smile on my face. <3333333

(Please note that this ask is meant to be read as if I am laying on your bed kicking my feet in the air while excitedly talking, thank you 😌)

TOBI!!!! I was just thinking about you the other day!! My dad and I were watching Labyrinth for the first time in a while, and when I realized the baby's name was Toby (i'd forgotten) I just went...ah..Tobi...I hope he's doing well...

I'm doing alright! I've been very busy this semester, and we are approaching finals so it's probably only going to get busier soon. But! This has been my first semester mostly in person in a very long time! And I'm officially fully in uni rather than dual credit, so I'm somewhere else now and have met SO many people. Actually am planning to meet up with one of them tomorrow to go to a restaurant/museum for class! And to watch a few movies with two others sometime soon.

lots of reflections on that because relationships of all kinds have been. rather difficult my whole life, so we'll see what happens here! also would 100% wear some silly goose university hoodies with you <3. move aside tobi's partner I need to glue BOTH of his hands to mine. forever

Also!! If you read my fics I'll love you forever and ever and ever even more. This new titz one has been sitting for several months, but I finally pulled it back out! And I am rather nervous about it because Fitz and Tam are both particular characters, and so combining them just makes them even harder to write. and THEN! throwing in Fitz's Alvar feelings makes that EVEN MORE difficult. but! it was also an absolute delight to work on so I hope you like it :)

and holy shit wings au art!!! i trust you so much I am so excited to see it--and don't worry about however long it takes! wings au is years in the writing, i've got experience with patience. wait btw, I don't know if you're aware, but I'm attempting to post the epilogue soon! I have the rough draft and the anniversary is coming up, so I'm hoping to have it edited to post on the ending's anniversary. it's a little over a week away, but also finals are descending AND its nano, so we'll see what happens. it WILL be out by the end of the year for certain though (and during october I went through and re-edited the whole thing for grammar and details--it's ridiculous how many its it's mistakes there were because i KNEW the difference. i'd just autopilot do one or the other and not catch it in my quick edits)

I keep pausing to do little claps and stim because. tobi!!! it's so so cruel we can't lay in bed kicking our feet together, i have missed you so so so much! what has been up with YOU? how has your life been? what's up with the blog migration--if you want to talk about it. also totally cool to simply accept it and move on. i just like talking to you and it's very nice to see you again :)

[may8elle]

Rant time;

As a creative, I'm very happy to hear people like my stuff enough to like it, reblog it, or even ask for more. Keyword there being ASK.

So I recently went through a creative drought that lasted like 10 fucking months, almost an entire year. During that time I was getting used to a new job, lost my father, lost a dear friend, lost my dog AND had to deal with ALL of that while working on the road away from home. I didn't get to go to funerals. I didn't get to have that moment. And I've openly talked about this on my Tumblr and IG both.

So I finally, FINALLY got through all of that enough to do SOMETHING creative; I drew an OC of mine. I knew it wouldn't get a lot of love in comparison to other things I've done (she's my OC, it's not Fandom content, I haven't posted art in a while so fewer people are gonna be paying attention to my page, etc.), that's not my problem. It was just so relieving to feel and see and DO something creative like that again for the first time in MONTHS.

And then this is the comment I get on that piece.

And I know it's likely meant to be lighthearted, but coming off of a long stint away from drawing, writing, singing, etc. it sure as hell didn't feel like a "haha!" moment. I've been open about the fact that I've been going through some Shit™, I stated that its my first piece in a long while in the description, and yet... AND YET....

I have every intention to come back and finish Humanly Inhuman, don't get me wrong- I WANT to finish it, I do. But this comment makes me want to not even bother coming back to it.

I'm talking about how refreshing it is to finally feel that creative itch again and the only thing you can think to say or comment is to urge me to finish a fanfic that YOU'VE NEVER EVEN COMMENTED ON.

I don't EXPECT comments or likes or whatever, but when you're expecting me to bust my ass and put out these chapters for you, it feels very lopsided. I don't fish for comments, I don't need them, it's not THAT deep- you aren't required to give your time/comments like that. IN THAT SAME VEIN, I don't owe you anything either. I don't owe you my time, my effort, my drawing, my writing, etc. You don't pay for the fic therefore you aren't owed shit.

And again, I think they were trying to be lighthearted, but when I've been talking about how hard it's been to get out of this creative slump and I FINALLY manage SOMETHING and your first thought was "it's not what I wanted so I'M leaving a comment to make you see that it's not what IIIII wanted," it feels very very awful. It makes me feel like absolute dog shit and makes me want to crawl BACK into that creative slump.

Am I being overdramatic??

Like, I genuinely don't think I am because I've gotten better, more kind messages that AREN'T worded like that on the fic itself;

This is a beautiful example of someone asking without it coming off as dickish. And I don't expect EVERYONE to ask this way or even to be this kind about it, but there's just.... A bad taste. When it comes to commenting what they did right after I make it clear that it's been a while since I've been able to muster anything creative up.

I'm not insane, am I? Or am I just overreacting??

[sysig]

what's your favorite part about making art?

Getting it out of my head (lol)

To give a more complete answer haha, each step has its own charm! Sketching is nice to have it Out of me, alleviates the itch of having a Thought or Feeling that just needs to be Out and onto paper already

If I'm drawing digitally, lining has gotten rather meditative, or if my sketches are particularly scribbly then it's like a puzzle haha

Toning on paper is a fun exercise in tool usage - I have specific pencils I switch back and forth between to get The Effect I'm looking for, or filling in with the same pencil for the whole piece is nice to just have it done all at once, it's satisfying both ways

Editing has kinda fallen by the wayside for me lately (as evidenced by my lack of uploads - I keep wanting to share, but there's a stopper in my brain that says "No, they're Not Done!" which is like......half correct? It's done when I say it's done, but they haven't been edited "properly" so) but it also has its good points! It took a bit to find the fun again because editing is definitely Not my favourite part of the process - it's not Creative or Exciting or Expressive in the same way as the other steps but it is something I can do for my art that makes it appear how my hand, eye, and brain want it to - my hand is messy, my eye is very particular, and my brain parses between the two, takes away the lines that muddle the final image until there's only The Picture left :) And sometimes it's all I have the energy for! Sometimes all I can do is take my backlog and make it pretty rather than make something new - but it's still Making Art :)

The only part I really don't like is scanning lol, it's just annoying, why can't my pictures be uploaded in perfect quality directly from my sketchbook to my computer haha

And most of this is to do with drawing since it's still my main art form, but a lot of the same applies to writing and papercraft and whatever else I try my hand at - it's nice to Have and Do and see where it gets me :)

I'm doing well! I've been writing more than - ever? I think? I think this is officially my up-to-now peak of Finished Writing by wordcount and time spent on it lol, it's been very fun!! And also a little overwhelming haha I still haven't quite found a New Normal about it, it being The Most haha, but I want to work towards that balance! More practice means more time to implement it so lol

[rjhpandapaws]

Liquid Courage Leads to Real Mistakes

//TW: mentions of nonconsensual induced sleep // I am going to be in the woods til the 22nd so this is the last update for a while. I'm still gonna write and draw while i'm gone though.

Patroclus spent a lot of his time waiting. When Zagreus wasn't around there wasn't much else for him to do. It doesn't feel as hollow as before, he has something - someone - to look forward to seeing again. It made his skin itch with the desire to do something for once. Anything other than just sit and wait. The thing was, that there wasn't much to do in Elysium other than fight. Which is something he's already had more than enough of for one afterlife. Sparring with Zagreus was one thing, but he had no desire for genuine combat. It felt too much like war. There was always the colosseum. There was always the option to watch other people fight. Theseus, for all his bluster, was a one-trick horse, so showing support for Zagreus was really his only reason to go. He imagined that this was what Achilles must feel like when Zagreus was making an escape attempt. A mix of anticipation and worry. He had paced enough that he was certain that if Elysium wasn't a sacred place, he would have worn a trench into the dirt. He wanted to see Zagreus again and hear how he had been fairing, as well as Achilles. To make sure they were both as well as their circumstances would allow for.

It felt like it had been ages since he last got to see Zagreus. He understood there were runs his door didn't come up on, but he didn't think it had ever been this long. Or at the very least it has never felt like it. The sharp clang of the door nearly scared him out of his skin, but the moment of fear was quickly chased away by delight. He met Zagreus at the stairs, which made him grin. Tucked under his arm was a bottle of what looked to be ambrosia. It seemed they had finally graduated from nectar. "I take it you missed me?" Zagreus joked as they walked back to their place by the river. If only he knew, Patroclus thought. "Maybe I've taken to patrolling this place to keep away any wandering shades." It's a playful deflection at best, and definitely not believable, "As well as the occasional pesky god." Zagreus grinned, "I'll be sure to let you know if I see any." They share a laugh as they settled at the edge of the murmuring river. It's once they're both comfortable that Zagreus speaks again.

"Sorry it took me so long to get back here." He said and looked down at the water. His hold on the ambrosia bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white, "Achilles was worried since I haven't exactly been sleeping and so he had Hypnos put me under. As soon as I woke up I made my way back here. I..." He sighed quietly, "I missed you." He finally loosened his hold on the bottle, if only to hand it to Patroclus, "Anyway, I wanted you to have this. It's the first bottle I won off Theseus." He hesitated before he finally took the bottle, "I am only taking this under the expectation that you are going to help me drink it." They had gone through this enough times, that it was more or less an unspoken rule. "Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do." The bottle was sealed well enough that it took him a couple of tries to get it open. Once it was open a familiar ease settled over them. Its like old times. It's like old times, they share in drink and caught up what had and hadn't changed since they had last did this.

It was pleasant and comfortable. Everything about being at the edge of the river with Zagreus feels so right. Like this was the natural culmination of everything; the only thing missing was Achilles. He knew ambrosia was a divine drink, designed to mimic pleasant memories and ease risk. It loosened him, not too unlike mortal wine. Zagreus was relaxed too. There was an ease to him that Patroclus couldn't remember seeing before. It drew him in. He didn't realize he was moving at all; until his lips met Zagreus'. He stiffened for a moment, then Patroclus felt him return the kiss. It's slow and cautious at first, and then something caved and Zagreus was kissing him like his life depended on it. Patroclus was the one to pull away first. He had a moment to observe Zagreus as he came back to himself. He looked almost relieved before panic crashed over him and he fled leaving only scorched grass and the ominous clang of the chamber door in his wake. Stygius was still stabbed into the ground beside Patroclus' spear. He watched it fade with a growing sense of dread.

The regret came next, He had probably ruined everything. He knew Zagreus had been trying to deal with his feelings for Achilles. Now he'd gone and fucked everything up. But the way Zagreus had melted into him had to mean something. Right? He would be able to ask whenever he saw Zagreus again. If he ever saw Zagreus again.

[bbq-hawks-wings]

I think it’s hori being tired af and only drawing what he enjoys now (buff or curvy women) like hopefully mirko comes back as token waifu and it’s nobody new. He had to do manga, a movie, novels, and an art show in 2020 and he hasn’t had a sufficient break since. I’m now squinting at mirko’s “last words” during her nomu fight. And I agree it would have been so much more powerful for all might to die and start the path of saving tenko.

And a second ask:

The editor is partly at fault but HK’s weird pattern with the overhyped ladies are all his own.

And finally a third:

The editor showed himself with the Todoroki flashback chapters because he didn’t correct Hori about the timeline and there’s the uncomfortable implication that Endeavor unknowingly committed martial **** since Rei was pressured to consent by their contract. I know Hori likes to go dark for the Todofam but that’s a bit too dark for a weekly magazine.

I hope you all don't mind me lumping all three of these together. I do so because these are all in some way or other either speculation or commentary as to what's going on with the writing and who may or may not be at fault. I put this all here just because as much as I'm itching for answers, I don't have anywhere near enough facts to say any more or less than, "Yeah, maybe that's it." to anything, and I highly doubt anyone who comes to my blog is any different.

Because of that, I just don't want to dwell on the subject for too long, even if it feels like that's all we can talk about lately. No matter my theories or anyone else's, my conscience won't let me publicly muse about it for too long until I eventually have the truth, if ever.

Thanks for sticking with me through that. Now onto responses!

For first anon, I agree that Horikoshi has been working overtime with just how many enormous MHA events happened last year, and he needs a chance to actually rest. Even though his level of involvement for most of those projects varies wildly, it doesn't change the fact that he was still involved, and that's still a lot of mental energy and space for the author of a massive success of an ongoing weekly serial to carry regardless. Considering how much money his series makes for SJ, I wish they would just let him get a well-deserved long break.

Second anon, I also agree. I personally don't sense malicious intent in Horikoshi's writing of his female characters (and this trend with the female characters may have been happening as far back as Burnin' and Mirko for all anyone knows) and I do believe he wants to support women and all the forms they come in; but that doesn't give him a free pass for missing the mark in some very big ways. Just how quickly he cycles through these female character concepts and then drops them completely is one in and of itself.

It's already difficult to utilize as big a cast as MHA has to begin with, but the time and impact his female characters in particular have had is sorely lacking when compared to the male characters even before the issue of them lately getting spotlights only to be completely forgotten a few chapters later. The issue has always been there, it's just never really been as obvious unless there's something critical that we're missing. There could be plenty of non-malicious reasons for this to be happening, but it's an issue regardless - and this is coming from a woman who loves the representation of women in MHA more than most currently running series in SJ.

My only real motivation I have in voicing this criticism (aside that the problem is more evident now than ever) is that valid criticisms should be packaged in language that doesn't put people down but tells them that you believe they really can be better even if they really missed the mark in the past. I just want him to be the best author he can be and that includes being able to "prove" through his stories he does support women and gender equality as much as he says he does, even if he's still learning and needs more work - especially because he's made more of an overt effort (even when it's bungled) to try to do right by the women in his series (and by extension, the women in his audience) than I see most in his position doing and that's a trend that I want to see rewarded and continued.

Third anon, no matter if Endeavor and Rei's arrangement was completely Horikoshi's idea in the beginning; that as well as the timeline error is a big red flag for his editor because that's literally a huge part of an editor's job. That's why so many fanfiction authors have beta readers - to not only catch things like grammar mistakes and spelling errors but also continuity errors, taking the story off track, potential readers' reactions, etc. As much as the raw concept and most of the execution for the series falls on Horikoshi to perform, he does have an entire team to help him out specifically to avoid mistakes and missteps like this. Thanks to past interviews, we've heard from both Horikoshi and his editors that those kinds of decisions happened in production before, and blatant post-production retcons for the series like this are also rare, so by all counts it should have been caught this time as well. I hope the situation improves.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

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