Because It Has to Go Somewhere

It's where I keep my fanfictions.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I'm volunteering for a literary journal right now and there's two things I think you all should know.

1. Most people that submit to literary journals are cis white men. We know this because our journal has an anonymous survey about demographics for people that submit.

2. Most things that get submitted to the creative non fiction section are on the level of middle school "What I did over the summer" essays.

I cannot see the demographics of the people whose essays I'm reading, but guys, if you are wondering if you should submit your work to a literary journal or not, I promise you that just in terms of statistics there are a lot of mediocre cis white men and people in general confidently submitting weird crap that isn't literature to literature magazines. Do it. Submit your work. Please. If you want there to be more diversity in literature, be the diversity. Do it. Do it do it do it.

[what-even-is-thiss]

In general literary magazines want to include more diversity, but if poc, queer people, disabled people, etc. don't submit their work then they aren't gonna get more diverse because we just won't have the material necessary to get more diverse. Submit your work. Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Here's a list of university run literary journals. Do it. Get published.

[what-even-is-thiss]

[wilthered-dreams]

Many indie lit mags also welcome works from BIPOC and LGBTQIA creatives because the editorial staff themselves are in that demographic. Quarantine brought on the start of the SO many indie lit mags - it’s almost a golden age. Don’t be afraid to submit — there will always be so many niches and aesthetics that one will bound to be the one that fits your style. 

There is so much work from marginalized narratives in litmags these days — people lament there is no representation in media, but that disregards the progress and diversity of the works of editors and writers who help make these litmags possible. 

There is representation, and it is flourishing. They are waiting to be read. 

The Lumiere Review compiles a list of submission opportunities every month, and it are always very useful: 

https://lumierereview.com/sub-sep-oct-2021

List of Litmags that Specifically Look for Work from Marginalized Creators or is Run by Marginalized Creators:

Warning Lines: https://warninglines.com/

With Confetti: https://with-confetti.com/

Giving Room Magazine: http://www.givingroommag.com/

The Bitchin’ Kitsch: https://www.talbot-heindl.com/

Tealight Press: https://www.tealightpress.com/

Tipping the Scales: https://www.tippingthescalesjournal.co.uk/

The Winnow Magazine: https://www.thewinnowmagazine.com/

perhappened: https://www.perhappened.com/

AZE Journal: https://azejournal.com/

Honeyfire Lit: https://honeyfirelit.com/

and so much more!!

(And even if some litmags’ mission statement isn’t specifically for marginalized creators, they will always welcome these narratives.)

So please, please submit!

[what-even-is-thiss]

Independent magazines are great too! I’m more familiar with the university journal scene so I appreciate this addition.

[ataratah]

My conclusion on reading this after a lifetime of getting rejected from literary journals & magazines since grade 6: I am worse at writing than a mediocre cis white guy writing about his summer vacation... 🙃

Also me: this is very inspiring and I hope other ppl (not me) don't hesitate to submit! 😄

[miscellea]

Hi! I really enjoyed your fic "The New Normal", and I can't help but plot out a scenario in which Earth is discovered during the Clone Wars. I probably won't be able to write it as a full fic, but if I write down my ideas can I share them on here?

Sure! Go for it!

[miscellea]

I don't even WATCH star wars but your Jedi Inko fic??? splendid

Thanks!

[quillotine]

Ok, so as this year closes out I think we all are grateful to see the back of 2020.

2021 will likely also be hard. I don't see our troubles mysteriously dissipating as the clock strikes midnight, but I do have some things that I am grateful for:

I am lucky enough to not have lost anyone to Covid even though we have had some close calls, I might have had some health issues myself but I was able to care for myself and was fortunate enough to have had to resources to do it, I am very grateful that I am able to do the majority of those medical adjustments at home in quiet and privacy, I may be hearing my neighbors scream at each other but my quarantine pod is safe and supportive.

I did not have a good year. No one had a good year except maybe Jeff Bezos. Still, for what it's worth, I'm going to spend the evening reflecting on my good fortune.

I hope you guys are all safe, healthy, and happy tonight. See you on the other side.

[thefeelswhale]

An excerpt from Chapter 19 of 'You and What Army.'

They had a close call when some of the kids from 1-B went after Izuku’s group early on before they were airborne. One of the kids in that warhorse could make excellent barriers, but Izuku seemed wariest of their team leader and at one point used his telekinesis to lift that entire warhorse team up off the ground and threw them overhead into Todoroki’s warhorse.

The surprise twist came at the end when, after the bracket tournament was announced, several kids recused themselves from the competition.

“A mind controller.” Mirai interpreted. “The purple haired one. Interesting.”

Interested, Inko reached out to touch the boy’s mind and to her surprise his head whipped up and he turned around trying to spot who was contacting him. “Oh my!” She sent him the equivalent of an apology and withdrew. 

“Something the matter?” Toshinori asked when she smiled to herself.

She hadn’t encountered a Force sensitive native to earth before. They existed, of course, but the ability faded without use. Untrained Force users lost the ability as they got older. The boy’s quirk was close enough to Force Persuasion that it must have maintained his connection to the Force.

“He’s more than that.”

Inko and Izuku: We're gonna adopt him. *laser eyes*

Toshinori: We're what now?

...not really. This version of Shinsou will come complete with a happy supportive family who fully support his proessional aspirations. They think he'll make an Excellent Hero and with FIGHT anyone who says otherwise.

[thefeelswhale]

Dear readers,

Just checking in! I realize have been a little quiet of late. I am still here and non-Covided. I did get a new diagnosis recently that's been occupying a lot of the action points I would usually spend on writing. (i.e. Do I call the scheduling service? Do they call me? What is a carbohydrate exchange?) It's been a whole mood.

I'm still here. I'm still writing, just not at my former speed for the moment as I periodically panic google things like 'My blood sugar is going down after I eat insead of up but somehow I'm still hyperglycemic??? Why??????'

Your patience is appreciated!

<3

Feelie

[thefeelswhale]

An excerpt from Chapter 19 of 'You and What Army?'

“How is Mirio-kun? Is he excited?”

“Palpably.” Mirai replied, taking his seat and poking at the console to adjust their cameras. “The support company pulled through with a custom gym uniform for him. He’s beyond happy to not have to compete in costume or a standard uniform like last year.”

“Oh, he would be, wouldn’t he?” Inko hadn’t connected Mirio to one of the big scandals of the previous year’s festival. The news casters and amateur videographers had been warned to be very careful with their angles, but a certain young man had still ended up on live camera. The recordings were edited with modesty blurs, but anyone watching the live feed had been confronted with Mirio-kun; full frontal.

Poor Mirio. All of Japan has seen his unmentionables.

[thefeelswhale]

Toshinori kept a straight face, but she could still feel the glow of his happiness. It seemed one of his private charities, which had been more neglected in recent years, supported low income Hero students with special needs. The officers in charge of that program had been focusing on tuition grants in the absence of specific guidance from him; getting bodies into seats, making sure they had their basic supplies, and metabolically appropriate meal plans. They hadn’t been doing a bad job, but they were all civilian people and so had gaps in their understanding of the needs of scholarship student heroes; something that Toshinori had been able to fill in before his accident and was happily back at.

I SHIP ALL MIGHT AND HIS TEN MILLION PET CHARITIES OK

[thefeelswhale]

Here is some Izuku POV in the fic formerly known as 'untitled Shindeku Soulmates AU'

The Nervous Energy in Everything - Part 2

There was no hiding what had happened when Izuku stumbled in his front door that night reeking and reeling from what was simultaneously the worst and best day of his life. 

Best because he’d met All Might.

Worst because he’d almost died.

Best because All Might was going to help him become a hero.

Worst because… Kacchan.

Best because the gentle touches on his chest he’d been getting all day and all the feelings that came with it; wonder, gratitude, pleased embarrassment, and hope.

He and Kacchan had found each other in daycare of all places. The teacher hadn’t realized what was going on until they’d been made to let go of one another and she realized they had matching handprints encircling their wrists where they’d grabbed each other.

That was the last clear memory Izuku had of his first soulmate voluntarily touching him or their marks. Obviously they’d gotten along like normal soulmates for a while, but then Izuku’s quirk never appeared and Kacchan started to change. 

Izuku’s mom looked up from her crossword as Izuku dropped some fliers he’d picked up out of the recycling bin onto the kitchen floor so he could put his grimy backpack down somewhere without making a mess.

“Izu!” Her hands flew over her nose and mouth. “Is… is that smell coming from you?”

“There was a villain attack.” He didn’t really want to explain. He was already going to have to, especially once he stood up and turned around so she could see what had happened to his face. “There was a hero nearby. I’m okay, but…”

He felt her hands on his shoulders as she turned him around. “You need to cha…oh my goodness gracious!” His mom broke off mid sentence as she saw the two new handprints framing his face. 

They were symmetrical at least. His new soulmate had big hands and the thumbprints landed just below his eyes, framing his freckles between his soulmate’s thumb and forefingers. If you had to have a face mark then it wasn’t a bad one to have.

“Izuku.” Her lip wobbled. “What happened?”

“Kacchan…” Izuku couldn’t make himself form the words. Part of him could still feel the bond snapping; like he was caught in that moment and couldn’t quite push through it. “...he went too far today and I can’t... I couldn’t… I just stopped...” That was about as far as he got before being pulled into a hug.

It had been years since he’d been wanted by his own soulmate. He and Kacchan had been platonic even when they’d still liked one another and even after things had gone sour on them Izuku never had quite been able to give up on the idea that the confident little kid he remembered was still in there somewhere. 

He hadn’t known where his own limits were until that afternoon.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You held on for so long.” She started to kiss his cheek and then veered off to kiss his temple at the last minute when she realized she couldn’t do that anymore. “It’s okay. Do they… do they seem nice?” She frowned. “Are they okay? Did they feel what happened --with the villain, I mean?”

It was hard to say. Izuku had gone to a lot of trouble not to trigger their connection after he’d gotten loose from the sludge villain. He hadn’t felt anything beyond the odd touch, as though his soulmate was checking to make sure he was still there. They wouldn’t feel much from his end unless he was touching his mark.

‘I should check in with them.’ He realized. He was almost positive they hadn’t felt the attack or his panic when Kacchan ended up getting attacked. 

“Mom, I smell.” He gently disengaged himself from the embrace.

“You sure do” She wrinkled her nose. “Go change and take a bath. I’ll call the registry to update your profile while I see if that uniform can be saved. Oh, um. Do you have an idea of where… you know.”

“It’s their chest.”

“Oh!” She looked surprised. “It must be another boy then.” She giggled as he stared. “Even in a fugue I can’t imagine you being able to touch a girl’s chest without fainting. Remember that time…”

“Aaaaahh!” Izuku clamped his hands over his ears because she was going to try and remind him of the time he tripped and fell on Aunt Mitsuki. “No I do not! I do not remember any time ever and I’m leaving now!”

Izuku ran the bathtub heater while he washed himself harder than he had ever done before. The odor of sewers lingered even after he lathered up three times. After a certain point he wondered if it was in his head. He ended up dumping a bunch of his mom’s bath salts into the water before he got in to soak. Izuku wasn’t a fancy bath person, but smelly times called for smelly measures.

His soulmate tapped him again as he sank into the bath and Izuku finally felt calm enough that he wasn’t afraid he’d overwhelm them with his haywire emotions if he tapped back. 

Izuku carefully brushed his knuckles along the thumbprints on the apples of his cheeks and got an immediate response; like a palm pressed against his sternum searching for his heartbeat. 

He sank into the water up to the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut. This was new territory for him. Kacchan had started wearing covers in grade school so they didn’t get even accidental touches. They hadn’t explored their bond much before that and afterwards… well, Izuku had gotten used to being alone in his head.

Sometimes he’d wondered if Kacchan even had a soulmark under that cover anymore; if his side of their connection had broken long before Izuku’s had. He was uncomfortably sure he had his answer. Losing his bond with Kacchan had hurt like being punched in the stomach only worse, but Kacchan hadn’t reacted at all. It was like nothing had happened on his end at all.

In fact he’d been as confused as everyone else in the room when stuff started flowing out of his sleeve and a trembling Izuku pulled it back to reveal naked skin where he’d once been marked; seconds before he felt two phantom hands frame his face, soothing away all the pain and confusion with a radiant joy unlike anything he’d felt before. 

It was like someone had been waiting for him and he didn’t quite know what to do with that. 

That other presence was equally at sea and kept coming back to their connection as if they didn’t quite trust it not to vanish. 

Maybe they didn't. People without soulmarks existed. They were about as popular as people without quirks and probably trusted unexpected fortune about as much as Izuku did.

He rubbed his cheeks again and tried to remember how to deliberately transmit specific emotions through the bond. It had been so long since he’d had to manage a connection that he almost didn’t remember how to do it, but he didn’t want to share his hurt. He’d spent all his time as a soulmate feeling unwanted and burdened by Kacchan’s bad moods. Happiness. He could do that, right? Or maybe relief?

“Izuku?” His mom tapped at the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I heard back from the Bond Registry. They think they’ve identified your new soulmate. Do you want to meet him?”

“What? Now?” Izuku’s voice cracked on ‘now.’

“Ah, his parents would like to meet up as soon as possible.” His mom hmmmed as she chose her words. “I think; yes, now. Are you up to it? You were attacked today and we haven’t even spoken to the police.”

Izuku was already out of the tub and drying off as fast as he dared. “Um, yes!” He realized he hadn’t brought a change of clothes in with him. “Mom, I forgot clothes!”

She chuckled. “I’ll bring you something. You get started on your hair, dear.”

Curly hair was no joke when it came to washing it. Drying it and styling it was a whole other story. If he could get away with it, Izuku would have buzzed it all down to a half inch like his dad only he’d tried that once before. His head ended up looking like a beach ball balanced on a toothpick. The teasing he’d gotten at school over it was brutal. 

There was no way he was getting out the door without looking like he’d stuck his tongue in an outlet. 

His mom had her cellphone caught between her shoulder and ear as she brought him jeans and his navy polo shirt.

“...no, I don’t mind hosting.” His mom was saying. He could hear her through the door as she walked down the hall. “I’d prefer it, to be honest…”

Meanwhile Izuku was staring at a bottle of Issey Miyake cologne he’d gotten for his birthday two years ago and had never worn before. He barely even shaved. Was this really the time to experiment?

Wait.

Had his mom just said they were coming here?

[miscellea]

Cross posting!

[thefeelswhale]

An excerpt from Chapter 18 of 'You and What Army?'

“Well, to be honest, mum.” D5 sighed. “I was enjoying independence and my employment with the Director, but he gave me a hint recently that he is going to attempt to retire again and this time he expects to be successful.”

“Oh?” Inko blinked. “He tried before?”

“This will be the fourth attempt. He is somewhat overcommitted and looking to step back from a few of his projects.” D5 tilted its shiny metal head in acknowledgement. “The problem is that he’s an extremely popular leader. He was intercepted during previous retirements and restored to office. I think he was proud enough of their efforts to stay a little longer, but this time he is quite determined and given the candidates for his replacement, I’ve elected to leave the program.”

“Well, then.” Ink folded her hands in her lap. “Let’s discuss salary requirements.”

Now accepting your guesses about the identity of the Director!

[thefeelswhale]

I've had this kicking around in my Google drive for a minute. I'm still pinned down with You and What Army for the moment, but here's a bit just for fun.

Untitled Shindeku Soulmate AU

On a Wednesday of no particular significance, at age fourteen and after hoping seemingly without hope for his entire life, Shinsou Hitoshi received his soulmark.

As a third year who’d switched schools too many times, Hitoshi’s class schedule was a mess. He was ahead in some areas and behind in others. He’d been enrolled in schools both good and bad. The one he was looking to graduate from was strictly mediocre. All of that combined with the faculty’s general uneasiness with his quirk meant that he had ended up with a free period at the end of the day. Since no club he wanted to join would have him, he usually just went home at the end of the day.

Home was better than school although not by much, but his parents didn’t actively seek him out so that put them a rung above Hitoshi’s classmates. His uncles were all right, but they were busy more often than not.

The pain hit him in the sternum as he reached the top of the stairs like a punch or a palm strike. By a stroke of luck, he didn’t topple backwards although it was a near thing. He dropped his book bag and crumpled to his knees wheezing and clutching at his chest.

At first he thought; ‘I’m having a heart attack before I even turn fifteen.’ 

Then he thought ‘No, it’s not a heart attack.’

It felt almost more like a panic attack. His head was swimming. He couldn’t quite catch his breath. His eyes watered. His heart felt inexplicably like it was breaking.

The pain and sadness winked out almost as soon as it arrived like a radio signal passing out of range and left behind a palm-shaped patch of throbbing skin. Hitoshi could feel it radiate warmth even through the thick fabric of his uniform jacket.

“Please.” He rasped as he wrestled out of his top layers, too scared to hope and unable to keep from hoping at the same time. The bathroom door banged hard against the wall as he shoved into the bathroom. He heard a concerned shout from deeper in the house. 

One of his uncles was home; good to know, but not the important issue at that moment.

The important issue was the dark handprint on his chest; a few shades darker than his normal skin tone, like he’d missed a spot with sunscreen only in a very distinct shape. 

Hitoshi held his own hand just over his mark. His soulmate’s hands were smaller than his with small palms and long blunt fingers. Were they a girl or a boy? 

“Hey, everything all right in there?” Mic, his uncle by marriage, stuck his head in through the open door and stopped as he took in the little miracle now living right over Hitoshi’s heart. “Is that…?”

He didn’t mean to, but Hitoshi let his fingertips brush against the center of his mark. His heart throbbed hard and after a second he felt ghostly fingertips touching his cheeks. Those were his soulmate’s fingers. The touch came with a faint sense of wonder, lingering unhappiness from whatever had just happened, but also this brilliant thread of tremulous hope.

Whoever they were, they were happy to feel him. 

“Yeah.” Hitoshi wasn’t a smiley person. He wasn’t a very nice person in general, but he couldn’t have fought the grin spreading across his face if he’d wanted to. He could still feel a persistent little touch on his jaw, like his soulmate was gently brushing their thumb back and forth across the skin just below his ear. “I have a soulmate.”

Mic crushed him into a hug, picked him up, and spun him around. Then he stopped and said, “Wait.” Then he whipped out his phone and started dialling. “If you have a soulmate then something real bad just happened. Soul bonds persist even through death. We need to get a report into the registry. They might be able to locate them. Can you tell where their mark is?”

A lance of shame shot through Hitoshi. Mic was right. Soul bonds didn’t just break. Most people were born with their marks and died with their marks even if their soulmate predeceased them. Marks repeated through history too; tangible evidence of reincarnation. Some were even famous.

If he had gained a soulmate then they’d just lost theirs. 

He rubbed his chest, worried. The feelings he’d gotten right at the beginning made sense, but there wasn’t much of that bone-deep sadness left. His soulmate was still petting his jaw and they felt kind of tired, but also… it was hard to describe the feeling. He felt like they were clinging to him as hard as he was clinging to them, but not like they were in immediate danger.

“It’s um… I think it’s on their face?” Hitoshi winced as Mic slowly turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

Soulmarks appeared wherever soulmates touched each other for the first time. It had to be at the same time and most people didn’t really remember it. Higher brain function sort of temporarily went offline once you got in a certain range of your other half and you went into a fugue state that only ended once you either found each other or got out of range. Fortunately it stopped happening after that first successful touch. The handprint on Hitoshi’s chest made sense in that context, but apparently he was going to touch their face. 

He looked down at his big, broad palms. Maybe it was just a little touch and wouldn’t leave too much of a mark?

Just then he felt another ghostly touch on the other side of his face coupled with a sense of vague alarm from his soulmate and he realized it was even worse than he’d thought. Both of his cheeks lit up with sensation in the shape of two handprints.

“I’m so sorry!” He groaned. “Not you!” He added when Mic turned away from his phone call in alarm. “I think I’m gonna end up…” He mimicked cupping someone’s face with both hands.

“Well.” Mic said after a while. “At least he’ll be easy to find.”

[thefeelswhale]

A small excerpt from Chapter 17 of 'You and What Army.'

Toshinori found young Izuku was out with young Bakugo, but also young Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido when he found the bookstore. They were hanging out by the magazine racks and talking about some of the covers.

Hisashi was sitting across the street at a cafe, pretending to read a newspaper, and watching with a sort of sad look about him; like he wanted to go over, but didn’t know how. 

Sheesh.

He hadn’t spotted Toshinori. People, not even highly trained agents, didn’t often look up and Toshinori had let himself gently down onto an open balcony from the roof of the building the cafe was in. 

Toshinori -now flexed- dropped down behind the man far less quietly, scruffed him by the back of the shirt, and tucked him under one arm like a struggling football. “Let’s have a talk!” He boomed happily. 

“What?!” Hisashi kicked and Toshinori stepped out of the cafe patio so he wouldn’t accidentally clip one of the other diners. Hisashi saw the direction they were heading and said, “Oh, no. No, no, no!”

“This is for your own good.” Toshinori told him, a little softer than before; closer to his own voice. “It’s getting weird, man.”

[thefeelswhale]

A conversation that could be overheard while I was working on Chapter 16 of "You and What Army?"

Me: Hypothetically, how many hamburgers do you think Toshinori would eat if he stopped at a food truck while procrastinating on his way to a meeting with Nighteye?

Me: One? Or two?

Roommate: Four.

[mom2otaku]

A colored and monotone colored version of a scene from chapter 11 of @miscellea 's fanfic, https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411307/chapters/67774448#workskin

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[miscellea]

Eeeee!

[mom2otaku]

Inko vs. Aizawa

And of course a colored and black and white version. 😃

From chapter 7 of a fanfic by @miscellea, https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411307/chapters/67359721#workskin

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[miscellea]

Omg looooooook

[twinterrors-fanart]

Jedi Midoriya Inko based on You and What Army by The Feels Whale, go give it a read!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411307/chapters/66999160

Her outfit is based on Rey’s! The proportions are a little off, and I know she doesn’t really have freckles but I couldn’t help myself!

[thefeelswhale]

*GASP* I am in love with this! Look at her freckles!!! OMG

[timeforcrimes]

If I see another Shakarian fic in which Garrus has ‘primal urges he can barely control’ that make him become jealous of another male character (usually Kaidan or Thane) and becomes a big possessive asshole that attacks Kaidan/Thane just because Shepard was talking to them…

I will scream. Garrus is not like that at all guise.

[miscellea]

For one thing he's a sniper. He'd pick them off from a distance.

[miscellea]

O HAI! I'm on AO3 Now!

Hi all, I finally got an invite to An Archive of Our Own. I am by no means abandoning Tumblr, but I thought it'd be nice to have another place to post and Fanfiction.net kind of makes me want to gouge my eyes out these days, I'm not even kidding.

Right now I only have a few things up over there, but that should be changing in a few days. Here is the link to my profile!

http://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellea