#cannot believe i spent that many words answering this. originally i wasn't even going to

[birdantlers]

You know, it wouldn't even occur to me that certain ships might even exist... if authors of fanart like yours (even before your dragonball phase) didn't insist on bringing that fact to my attention by screaming murder at anyone who might dare interpret their stuff in a certain way. And it's exactly that disclaimer that causes me to look closer at the art in question and realize that... oh wow, right, Gohan is really acting like a jealous lover here, huh? Assuming he must be the One Person (1/3)

My condolences about your daddy issues or whatever, but you're the one that's reading weirdly deep into this, dude. I genuinely don't know what kind of 'gotcha' you think you wrote but... damn.

Is this your first day on the internet? People tag and draw blatantly-platonic seeming art that's actually ship art upon closer investigation constantly. Now idc what people do as long as its properly tagged, but it's a different story when my art is involved. Of course my DNIs are to prevent "misunderstandings." I'm not a moron; anyone can pick out supporting evidence for their bias if they look for it, which is exactly the point of saying I don't condone it. It's me going "Hey, these are my boundaries! If you don't respect them, that's shitty of you!"

I can't control how people interpret my art. I know this—but I can sure as hell clear the air about my intent and opinions. So I'll make myself very clear: I don't like my content being seen in a romantic context. Unless I confirm otherwise, it's platonic. Why? Because I fucking say so. If word of god isn't reason enough, that's on you. Your inability to see emotional intimacy between two adults as anything but romantic is not my fault—nor is it my responsibility to overcorrect.

It may shock you that, yes, this is how many families do interact. Not everyone's idea of a "convincingly portrayed" family dynamic is going to be the same. I'm a very sappy person irl and so is my family. It's honestly kind of pathetic that you obviously think my content is too much for a paternal relationship.

Even aside from that though, your arguments are just bad. I mean did you even reread this before you sent it? Sure. "Gohan acts like a jealous lover..." of his preschool-age daughter. Yeah, that's a totally normal take. Really makes you seem like a well-adjusted individual. I don't even know where you got the jealousy thing from since he spends the whole comic actively trying to leave and stop Pan from sticking up for him. Your other points are just conspiratorial; I see no point addressing them.

So yeah, take your final proposition and shove it. Maybe focus on how to "effectively and convincingly portray" whatever content measures up to your standards instead of preaching to me like I shouldn't do the same. I don't owe you jack—especially when you're too much of a coward to talk down to me while hiding behind anon.

And if this is who I think it is (given the timeframe you let slip), get off of that damn high horse already. You're not the patron saint of correct characterization, and your unwarranted criticism doesn't make you look smart. It makes you look like an entitled tool who can't resist hearing your own voice. Quit tearing people's hobby work down because you can't find enough fan content to satisfy your own standards.

I love found family. I love sickeningly sweet """unconvincing""" found family, and if you think that's trite, ooc, or—I guess, romantic—keep it to yourself. You're not going to 'con'crit me out of creating exactly what makes me happy, and this weird victim-blamey diatribe sure as hell isn't either. If anything, you've only convinced me to keep using DNIs.

[ukeishin]

— MY HARDEST GOODBYE

note: here’s the iwa angst!!! i’d love to know what u thought and i hope it’s angsty enough.

ft. iwaizumi hajime

warning: angst, brief mentions of drinking

⤷ main page

You love him.

Even before you had any concept of the notion of love, you’re confident that you had loved him. But it’s difficult for you to pinpoint the exact moment you fell for Iwaizumi Hajime. 

Perhaps it was when you were eleven and fell off of your bicycle. You had badly scraped your knees and palms in the process. Instead of laughing at you or making fun of the way your bottom lip wouldn't stop trembling, Iwaizumi knelt down beside you with a concerned expression and patiently wiped your tears away. After your cries trickled down to a stop and you had calmed down, he suggested that maybe you should just go back to riding a tricycle. You punched him in the arm for that.

Or maybe it was when he spent the entirety of his Saturday night rubbing your back as you threw up into some random person's toilet after drinking too much, even though he had warned you about overdoing it. Although he called you an idiot for drinking so much, Iwaizumi still pulled off his hoodie and gently placed it over your barely-conscious form. He left no room for any argument and drove you home that night to ensure you'd be safe. 

Looking back, there are many moments you can think of that made you fall in love with Iwaizumi, but in the end, falling for him was almost as easy as breathing. It came naturally to you, and before you knew it you were hopelessly in love with your best friend. You’ve never loved anyone the way that you love Iwaizumi, which is why you've resolved yourself to do this.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in concern as he processes your words.

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” His words are slow and measured, hoping that he's somehow misunderstood your original statement. 

It seems that it’s only the two of you on campus now. Classes concluded hours ago and his volleyball practice ended earlier that evening. You waited patiently outside the gym doors for him, spending that time contemplating on whether or not you truly wanted to go through with this.

You glance up at Iwaizumi. His brows are furrowed and his lips are sloped downward into the beginnings of a frown. His eyes are inquisitive, searching for an answer to his question, one that would indicate this really is some sort of misunderstanding, hidden within your expression. Iwaizumi finds nothing of the sort. Your face is blank - your lips set in a firm line while your eyes are hard, harboring none of their usual kindness.

“I can’t do this anymore, Haji,” you repeat slower this time. Your voice is flat as if all the energy has been sucked out of you. The sound is so unlike your usual self that for a fleeting moment Iwaizumi believes that the individual that stands before him can’t be you.

Iwaizumi prides himself on the fact that he knows you better than you know yourself, which is why it’s so disconcerting for him to be unable to read you right now.

However, as well as Iwaizumi may know you, you know him far better than he would think.

You know that Iwaizumi loves you. There is no denying that. If he didn’t he would have never entered a relationship with you, never would have asked you out in the first place. What you also know is that his love for you pales in comparison to his love for Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa Tooru. You truly harbor no animosity towards Oikawa. No real animosity at least. It’s more like a bitterness that lingers in the back of your mouth that you’re unable to get rid of. Sure, he’s rather loud and obnoxious at times, but you can respect that he cares deeply for those who he considers important to him. Near the top of that list is Iwaizumi. 

A certain heaviness would settle within your heart whenever you caught Iwaizumi glancing at Oikawa whenever the latter wasn’t paying attention. You so badly wished you could feign ignorance, but the look in Iwaizumi’s eyes gave it away to you.

Your chest would tighten uncomfortably whenever you saw Oikawa sneak quiet glances at Iwaizumi. In those fleeting moments, Oikawa’s eyes would soften and, unconsciously, a small genuine smile would overtake his face. As fast as it came, his genuine grin would be wiped away at a moment’s notice, and Oikawa would fix on his classic charming smile and resume the conversation like normal, as if he wasn't just blatantly admiring Iwaizumi.

You would argue that you know Iwaizumi better than he knows himself. Perhaps that's what happens when you love someone. You learn to pick up on all of their little habits and tells that give away how they truly feel.

That's how you're sure of the fact that Iwaizumi is in love with Oikawa, even if he may be oblivious of his feelings for the setter. It’s evident in the way he speaks about him. He may spit out harsh words and insults, but a certain fondness is laced within each and every word that spills from his lips as he complains about Oikawa. It’s obvious in the way that Iwaizumi scowls and vents to you about how Oikawa’s an idiot who works himself into the ground when he’s already more than enough. In moments like those, you wonder how Iwaizumi can be so clueless.

Although you are sure that Oikawa irritates him to no end the majority of the time, you know that Iwaizumi would drop whatever he was doing if Oikawa needed him. He’s done it before, apologetically leaving dates early since Oikawa called him with an emergency. Iwaizumi may be a little rough around the edges, but he would do anything for the people he loves. That’s just the way he is.

It is clear as daylight itself for you to see that the two love one another in a way that cannot be replicated. The bond they share easily transcends that of best friends. And as much as you and Iwaizumi may love each other, you know that he's not in love with you. Not the way you're in love with him. And although you desperately want to be selfish, to be content with whatever love Iwaizumi's able to give, you love him too much to stand in the way of what you know will make him the happiest.

“I can’t do this anymore," you repeat for a final time. You take one last look at Iwaizumi, who still looks confused as to what's going on. You hope that he won't resent you for this and that someday he'll understand why you broke his heart. “I’m sorry, Iwaizumi,” you mutter under your breath. Your facade slips and your voice cracks when you call him by his surname for the first time in years. You swiftly turn around and walk away from him before your mask can shatter completely.

You don’t allow Iwaizumi to see the tears falling down your face as you hear him dial the phone to call the one person in the world who could make him feel better.

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine