#this cannot accurately be described as friends to lovers

[autisticlancemcclain]

God, sunlight feels so good. Lance missed it. It’s really such a nice way to wake up. Warm sunbeams on your bare skin, a gentle brightening of the room; God, it even makes the room smell better… it sucks so bad that his room in the castle doesn’t have any windows. He’s so glad to finally be getting some now.

Lance shoots awake in a panic.

He should not be feeling sunlight on his skin right now.

He takes a half second to wake up fully, taking in the clean white sheets tangled around his hips, the sterile boringness of the room, the giant window with a sparkly view.

Oh, right. They stopped on what was essentially a Vegas planet yesterday to get a specific part for one of the castle’s reactors, and then he, Hunk, and Pidge convinced Shiro to let them hit the casinos for a bit.

The rest of the night is a blur.

“What the fuck did I do last night?” Lance mumbles, shifting around to stretch a bit. His hip bumps into a lump in the bed — a person-sized lump — and the movement makes him suddenly aware of a soreness in his rear.

His face heats up.

Oh.

That’s what he was doing last night.

Makes sense, he supposes. Drunk Lance is either extremely affectionate or extremely horny, so it was really only a matter of time. He rubs his eyes, then drags his hand down his face. Fuck. He’s gonna have a helluva time explaining this one to the team.

Fuck!

With a renewed panic, he throws himself out of the bed, tripping out of the sheets and looking around desperately for his clothes. Fuck fuck fuck! He is supposed to be on the castle right now!

He finally manages to locate his boxers, yanking them up his legs as he checks his watch. 5:13. Okay, not ideal, but no one’s usually awake before seven, so if he grabs some coffee or something on his way in he should be able to make it without making anyone suspicious —

“Lance, please shut the fuck up,” mumbles a grouchy voice, tinged with sleep, and Lance’s heart drops to his throat.

“Keith?!”

Keith drags himself upright, black hair a rat’s nest around his head, and glares heavily, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What part of shut the fuck up do you not understand, God, it’s like your voice is actively bashing into my head —”

Lance registers the exact second Keith awakes fully, because his eyes widen and he yelps, yanking the sheets up his chest.

“Oh my God!”

“Oh, drop the fucking sheet,” Lance snaps, face flaming. “It’s obviously not something I haven’t seen before.”

Keith thankfully does let go of the sheet, using his hands to yank on his hair instead.

“Fuck,” he says, turning panicked eyes to Lance. “Oh, we fucked up, we fucked up good —”

“Why, thank you, Keith, that’s oh so lovely to hear from you in this situation —”

“Fuck, we gotta call Shiro —”

Lance abandons his search for pants and lunges towards Keith, yanking the comm out of his hands and throwing it randomly behind him.

“Are you cracked in the fucking head,” he hisses.

“My comm!” Keith cries. He throws off the sheets and stumbles in vague direction Lance threw it, ass fucking naked.

“Put some goddamn pants on!” Lance shouts, whipping a pillow at Keith’s chest and frantically looking away, pretending his did not just get and eyeful and that said eyeful was not an objectively kind of a nice one.

“Piss off,” Keith snaps, face red, but dutifully locates his pants and puts them on before continuing. “I’m calling Shiro now.”

Resisting the urge to tackle the thick-headed dumbass to the ground, Lance forces himself to stay where he is.

“Do you want to be lectured for three straight days?” he demands.

That makes Keith pause. “It won’t be that long.”

“Sure, but then what? He’s going to be mad, Keith. Or at least disappointed. And you know we’ll be assigned the most boring missions possible until he forgets about it, and who knows how long that will take?”

Keith hesitates a moment, then sighs, giving up on his search for his comm and flopping back on the bed.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, face muffled in a pillow. “This sucks. And my head hurts.”

Lance reaches out, pressing his hand to Keith’s forehead — it’s definitely a little hot. Keith groans, wrapping his hand around Lance’s wrist and holding tightly.

“God, your fingers are freezing. Do not move them.”

Despite the situation, Lance smiles, brushing his fingers carefully through Keith’s fringe.

“Let me go. I have painkillers and peppermint oil in my jacket pocket, it should help.”

“Mmf. Fine.”

As soon as Lance’s hand is relinquished, he pulls away, hunting around the mess on the floor for his clothes. He finds his jeans first, but can’t find his shirt — only Keith’s black one, and a white shirt with some text on it.

“Keith?” he calls, pulling it on and tilting his head down to read it. “Why has my shirt been replaced with one that reads ‘SEAT RESERVED FOR DILFS’ with an arrow pointing to my face?”

Keith props himself up his elbows, squints at the shirt, and then winces.

“I may have,” he says reluctantly, “the faintest memory of throwing up on your shirt. So. I imagine you replaced it.”

Lance pouts. “Aw, man. I liked that shirt.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You are getting me a new shirt that I can wear without getting mocked, though.”

“Noted. What’s the ETA on that advil, by the way?”

“Coming, Mr. Impatience,” Lance mumbles, finally locating his jacket. (Thankfully Keith didn’t throw up on that, or Lance would have to kill him.) He digs around in his pockets, finding the peppermint oil where it usually is, but not the advil. He flips his other pockets inside out, and thankfully the bottle comes tumbling out, along with two slips of paper. He hands to pills to Keith, along with a bottle of water and the oil, and then reads the papers curiously.

His eyes widen.

“Keith,” he says, voice strained, “I have some very good news, and then some very bad news.”

“Good news first,” Keith says immediately.

Predictable.

Lance hands Keith the smaller slip of paper. Keith squints again, harder this time, bringing the paper close to his face.

Lance rolls his eyes.

“Coran had reading glasses made for you, you know. Months ago. How many times have I told them to bring them with you places?”

“I don’t need them,” Keith insists, paper perhaps an inch from his face. “I’m just — hungover.”

“Okay, dumbass.”

It takes Keith a second to read it — really, Lance might start carting around his glasses for him — and then his eyes get just as wide as Lance were.

“That’s a lot of zeros,” he says quietly.

Lance snorts. “Sure is. Apparently we’re very good at card games when we’re drunk. Or very lucky at one game.”

“Apparently,” Keith agrees. He looks back down at the paper, whistling. “You’re gonna have a hard time finding bad news bad enough to beat this, I think.”

Lance grimaces. He glances down at the bigger, fancier paper, then hands it to Keith.

“I really don’t think so.”

This paper is a lot easier for him to read — it would be hard for him to miss the giant ��CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE’ printed in bold at the top of it.

“Oh, shit,” he says weakly. He glances at Lance’s hands. “I guess that explains why you’re wearing my dad’s ring.”

Lance stares at his left hand in horror, where, on his fourth finger, shines a red stone inlaid in heavy gold — Keith’s father’s ring, that he’s never once taken off his pinky in all the time Lance has known him.

“Fuck!” Lance exclaims, immediately taking it off to give back to Keith. He knows how much that ring means to him.

Only — the ring isn’t coming off.

“I can’t get it off,” Lance says, looking at Keith in a panic. Keith looks back, just as freaked.

“It’s stuck?”

“No, it’s not — it’s not tight, I can move it and my fingers are narrow, but it’s not coming off!”

“How is that even possible?”

Lance pulls on the ring until it hurts, twisting it every which way and shaking his hand roughly. “I don’t know!”

“Here, just — stop freaking out,” Keith orders. Lance freezes, heart pounding. Keith slowly reaches over and wraps his left hand around Lance’s wrist, right hand on the ring. Lance has a sudden, vivid memory of their hands in the exact same position, stood in front of an alien with bright pink hair and dressed like fuckin’ Elvis, because of course they were, only in the memory Keith is sliding the ring on instead of trying to pull it off.

“Okay, that’s weird,” Keith says, finally giving up after pulling hard enough to make Lance wince. “It must be the marriage ritual in this place, or something. Alien magic, I dunno.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Lance says, snatching back their marriage certificate — their fucking marriage certificate, dear God — and reading it over carefully.

“Here!” Lance points out a tiny block of text near to corner, then reads aloud for Keith’s benefit. “Klent City State 347th Union Office.”

Keith sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. We’ll just explain the situation to them, and boom. Annulment. Problem over, we rush back to the castle before anyone else wakes up, and then we never speak of this again. Perfect.”

Lance nods, swallowing around the sudden bile in his throat. “Yeah. Perfect. Get dressed, Mullet. We have a divorce to attend.”

Keith snorts, rolling back off the bed and digging around for his dumbass go-go boots and jacket.

Once he looks away, Lance allows himself a pained wince, pressing his fingers to his eyes and scrunching his shoulders up to his ears.

“Lance? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says, pulling his hands away and straightening himself out. “Just — I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith, obviously, does not do that, because he is incapable of following instructions. He presses his hand to Lance’s forehead in a mirror of what Lance did earlier.

“You hungover, too?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t get hungover.”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” Lance insists. “I drink lots of water when I drink, and besides that, I never really have enough alcohol to get hungover in the first place. I am essentially a toothbrush bristle, Keith. I get drunk off, like, two drinks.”

Keith snorts. “You had a lot more than two drinks last night, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Lance flushes. Keith is remembering correctly. Lance hadn’t even intended to drink last night — he wanted to have fun and be sober — but he’d gotten bored watching Hunk and Pidge demolish the slot machines, and he didn’t feel like helping Shiro and Allura supervise Coran, so he went to go find and bother Keith. Unfortunately, he found Keith leaning close to some guy, laughing brightly, his hand on Keith’s bicep, and he’d tipped back an entire line of shots before he could convince himself not to be a dumbass.

Not that Keith needs to know that. Not that it even means anything.

“I got bored,” Lance says instead, which isn’t even technically a lie. “But, no. I’m not hungover. I’m just — um, it was a big night last night. Lots of light and sound. I’m a little overwhelmed and oversensitive.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

A minute later, something is being placed on his head. Lance looks up in surprise at Keith, who just smiles sheepishly.

“No idea why there is a sparkly pink ball cap with my clothes, but you need it more than me.”

Lance laughs brightly. “Oh, I remember this one! You remember when we were first running away from everyone else? Hunk was on our tail at some point, so I decided to steal your hair band and shoot him with it to distract him. Then you were moping about your hair in your eyes, though, and you grabbed the hat right off some dude’s head.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “I did not.”

“You really did, dude,” Lance says, grinning. “Clean off his damn head. Then you walked off like it was nothing.”

Keith shakes his head at himself, snorting. “Whoops. Sorry, Random Alien Dude.” He pauses for a minute, checking his watch. “Hey, we still have a little over an hour before everyone else gets up. Do you think we can grab some food on the way? I’m starving.”

“Shocking,” Lance says drily, but makes no argument. He could go for some shitty fast food too, honestly. They make their way out of the hotel, both of them wincing at the brightness when they finally make it outside, and head to the nearest brightly lit sign that offers grease and salt.

“Good thing we’re billionaires now,” Keith teases. “We wouldn’t be able to afford this otherwise, because your drunk ass was losing at every game we played.”

“I was not!” Lance says indignantly, but Keith pays him no heed.

“You were so. You only started winning when I was blowing on the dice.” He smiles smugly, poking Lance in the cheek. “You suck at poker, dude.”

Lance huffs, reaching over and stealing one of Keith’s fries as revenge.

“Hey! Paws off! You have your own!”

“You’re being a dick, and you upchucked on my favourite shirt last night,” Lance points out. “I deserve at least half of your fries.”

Keith inclines his head. “Yeah, alright, fair. But if it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t find my boxers and these pants are tight as hell, so I promise I am also suffering.”

Lance eyes, without his permission, glance down at the front of Keith’s pants. He flushes.

“That does make me feel better.”

Because Keith is suffering. That’s why.

…Whatever.

“Hey, by the way,” Keith says, swallowing his last bite of food. “How come you’re limping?”

Lance could smack him. Honestly.

“Why do you think, dumbass?” he snaps. “I’m not…used to this kind of thing. Or whatever.”

It takes a moment for Keith to clue in, but when he does, his eyes go wide and he freezes in his tracks.

“Please tell me I did not just take your fucking virginity.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Lance can’t help himself, so he rears back and punches Keith in the arm as hard as he can.

“Ow!”

“I don’t buy into that shit, so don’t flatter yourself,” Lance says harshly. “It’s the most dumbass idea I’ve ever heard. So what last night was my first time? It doesn’t — don’t be an idiot about it.”

Keith glares at him for a moment, rubbing his arm — in hindsight Lance could have probably held back a little, he’s definitely going to bruise — but then sighs.

“Yeah, sorry,” he relents. His face turns slightly teasing. “I just — I guess I just didn’t expect that from you, Loverboy.”

Lance scowls. “It makes perfect sense! I bet your first time was some rushed and unsatisfying bullshit on a random couch in an unsupervised room.”

That makes Keith frown, looking at Lance strangely. “There’s no possible way you know that.”

“Of course I know that, because it was the fucking Garrison, man. That’s what everyone did. I have no interest in that garbage. I want it slow and on a nice bed or I don’t want it at all.” He flushes up to his ears, realising what he said. “Or — I did want that. Whatever.”

Keith is quiet for a long time as they walk, and the tension is so thick that Lance almost considers giving up and calling Shiro despite his whole tantrum earlier.

“I hope it was like that,” Keith says quietly.

Lance thinks back to all he can remember last night — it’s not much, but he does remember it, remembers them clumsy and drunk and laughing and affectionate. He remembers how Keith had kissed him softly, pressed him gently into the mattress, how the skin of his hands had been rough under his gloves, tangled with Lance’s beside his head. He remembers how Lance’s ring — Keith’s ring, Keith’s ring, they’re not really married — had glittered in the dim light of the room, how the same soft glow had been reflected in Keith’s indigo eyes. He remembers feeling so loved his chest hurt with it.

But Keith doesn’t remember — ‘I hope it was like that’, he’d said. He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter, anyway.

“I don’t remember,” Lance lies. The words burn his mouth.

Both of them are quiet. Bitterly, Lance wonders if their relationship is ever going to be the same, or if everything they’ve ever built is ruined. If Lance ruined everything. Fuck, and he and Keith worked so hard, too. They both put so much fucking effort into their relationship. And Lance cherishes it — he really does. He likes having someone who’s just as competitive as him, grinning at him as they train, teasing and taunting as they spar. He likes having someone to look just as lost and confused with when Hunk and Pidge start talking tech. He likes having someone who will strike goofy superhero poses behind Shiro’s back whenever the man says something particularly Captain-America-ish. He likes having someone sit carefully next to him on the observation deck on bad nights, asking him to tell stories of his family to ease the hurt.

He likes being Keith’s friend. He hates that he ruined it with his stupid, stupid feelings. He should’ve just let Keith flirt with the alien dude. He should’ve stuck with Hunk and Pidge. Hell, he should’ve let Hunk bust out the Drunk Lance Backpack Leash —

He startles when a warm hand grabs his, tangling their fingers together.

“Keith?”

“Alien marriage magic,” Keith says, looking straight ahead.

“Huh?“

“I keep getting — urges,” Keith explains. His cheeks are red. “I keep wanting to — touch you, or whatever. It must be the bonding magic.”

Lance swallows roughly, looking away. He should really pull away. He’s only making things worse for himself. He should let go, maybe even sidestep away.

Instead he tightens his grip, and steps even closer.

“Must be.”

Lance can’t bring himself to look at Keith for the rest of their walk. There’s no point in making things even harder for himself, after all. Eventually Keith is going to let go, and their going to get their wrongful marriage rightfully annulled, and Lance is going to give back his ring — not his fucking ring, God, why has he become so possessive over it already? It’s only been one night, and barely! — and they’re both going to go home and pretend this never happened. Just like Keith said.

Except it did happen.

And Lance won’t forget it.

“We’re here,” Keith says quietly, jutting his chin at a flashing neon sign.

“Real tasteful of us,” Lance mutters as he looks at it. Keith snorts.

“Practically a destination wedding,” he agrees. Despite himself, Lance smiles.

Keith lets go of his hand to push open the doors. Lance does a very good job of not crying about it, which is excellent. Point to Lance for that one.

“Hello, there,” greets a woman, smiling kindly. “Come to get married?”

Lance winces. He wonders how he looks at Keith for her to assume that.

He’s taking back that mental point he just gave himself. He does not deserve it.

“Uh, opposite, actually,” Keith says. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “We got drunk and hitched last night? And now my dad’s ring is stuck on his finger. So. We were wondering if you could fix that.”

The woman looks a strange mix of pitying and amused. “Yes, that would be the bonding spell. Interesting that it worked on you both, if you were as inebriated as you say.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she says, waving a dismissing hand. “If you wish to annul your union, I can do that for you.”

“That would be great,” Keith says.

Lance says nothing.

“Alright, then. Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Both of them do. Lance feels something ticklish and breezy wrap around his hands, and something glows brightly enough that he can feel it even with his eyes closed.

“Now, all magic bonds work on two things: consent, and desire. The breaking of those bonds is very similar. Both of you must envision your ties together, specifically those of marital union, and then use your desire to be unmarried to envision those ties broken.”

Lance squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to envision his bond with Keith. He’s not one hundred percent sure what that means, so instead he tries to picture Keith, just as he is. He thinks of sly smiles showing the barest peek of crooked incisors, of a strong hand on the small of his back when Lance gets overwhelmed, of a gravelly voice whispering ‘I bet they’re waiting for you, Lance, and when you come back to them it’s going to be great,’ of the scent of pine and sandalwood, somehow, even in space. And then he envisions Keith’s panicked face when he woke up, when he saw that it was Lance that he spent the night with. He envisions the steadiness in Keith’s voice as he asked the woman for their annulment.

The glow burns brightly, strong enough to hurt his eyes through his eyelids, and then there’s nothing.

“Did it work?”

“If you both followed the instructions, yes.”

Lance opens his eyes, glancing over at Keith’s expectant face. He swallows the lump in his throat, and forced himself to wrap his fingers around his ring — not his fucking ring — and pull.

It doesn’t move.

“It’s still stuck,” Lance says desperately. He pulls harder on the ring, more and more panicked by the second.

“Shit, Lance, don’t hurt yourself —”

“I’m — I’m pulling, and I followed to instructions, I envisioned the broken bonds —”

“Both of you followed instructions?” the woman interrupts.

“Just as you explained,” Keith says. “Our bond, and then envisioned it breaking.”

She raises her eyebrow. “Hm. That’s strange. I’ve never seen the ritual fail for two willing parties before.”

“Fuck,” Keith whispers, dragging his hand down his face. “This is bad. Did it maybe not work because we’re human? Well, I’m half-human, but still.”

“We’re a largely tourist-oriented planet,” the woman explains. “Most people who come to this office are not native here. There is no reason your species should have affected the spell.”

“Yeah, I get that, but humans have never been to space before, so maybe —”

“It’s my fault,” Lance blurts. He shrinks back at their questioning looks. He looks down at his hands, twisting his ring — fuck — around his finger.

“Lance?“ Keith asks quietly.

“I don’t want to get divorced,” Lance admits. He’s ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair, I’ll try to ignore it, but —” He looks down at his feet, voice small. “I don’t want to get divorced.”

“Oh, thank God,” Keith says, and before Lance can even process, Keith strides towards him, cradling his face in his hands, and kisses him soundly.

“Wha —” Lance mumbles against chapped lips, confused and scared and unable to shake the hurt built in his chest quite yet. “You —?”

“So long,” Keith whispers, pulling away and then pressing back in again like he can’t help himself. “I — I’ve loved you for so long, Lance.”

Lance feels the tears leak finally from his eyes, dripping onto Keith’s cheeks. “Really?”

Keith pulls away for real this time, resting his forehead against Lance’s and laughing softly. “You have no fucking idea. You’re just — you are everything I’ve ever wanted. When I woke up this morning and saw my ring on your finger I thought I was still dreaming.”

Lance’s hands loosen their grip on Keith’s shirt, resting open-palmed on his chest. “But you wanted the annulment.”

“I wanted you to be happy,” Keith corrects. “I want you to be happy. Ideally with me, but — you were so panicked, this morning. I don’t want you to be tied down with someone you don’t want.”

“I want,” Lance says quickly. “I have — I love you, too. Always. Since the Garrison, probably.”

Keith grins. “Even when we were rivals?”

“We’re still rivals, Mullet. If you think I’m going to stop kicking your ass just because you’re my husband then you’re solely mistaken — oh my God. You’re my husband.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“No, Keith —” Lance pulls away slightly, so he can look up at Keith with the appropriate amount of panic. “What are we going to tell the team?”

But instead of freaking out like Lance expects, Keith is totally calm. Amused, even. He slides his hand down from Lance’s face to his hand, pulling it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss just below his knuckles, right above his — his! — ring.

“That I went to space Vegas and married the love of my life,” he says. He shifts slightly, turning Lance’s hand to press a kiss to his wrist.

“That I gave him the ring that I got from my father and he got from his grandfather and I’m happy I did.” He pulls up Lance’s sleeve, kissing the middle of his forearm.

“That I don’t regret it for anything, and would do it again in a second.” Three kisses, slowly, one after the other, up his bicep.

“That I look at him and every day is brighter. That even drunk me looked into those gorgeous brown eyes and couldn’t think of anything but being with him forever.” A lingering kiss to his shoulder, then a trail of them to his neck, where Lance can feel him smirk.

“That I got hitched and then spent an amazing night after doing more than just kissi—”

“Okay,” Lance interrupts, pressing his hand over Keith’s mouth and going red. Keith presses a kiss to his palm, eyes sparking in amusement. “I got it, Gomez. We’re telling them the truth. Maybe cool it a little.”

“For now,” Keith agrees, muffled.

Lance shakes, pulling his hand back and looking away. After a second or too he rolls his eyes at himself — why the hell is he holding back? — and presses a another long, lingering kiss to Keith’s lips.

“Ditto, by the way. With — all that mushy shit.”

Keith snorts. “Poet, you are.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, shut the fuck up.”

That makes Keith laugh outright, pressing their lips together one last time before pulling away. He turns toward the officiant woman, who thankfully looks amused.

“Uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

“All is well,” she says, smiling slyly. “That was the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time. Enjoy your day, boys.”

Smiling like fools, they duck out of the office, giggling as they stumble back in the direction of the castle.

“Shiro is going to give us so many chores,” Lance says brightly.

“So many,” Keith agrees.

“And Hunk and Pidge are going to tease us for eternity.”

“Mhm.”

“Allura too, probably.”

“Most likely.”

“Coran’ll be on our side, though.”

Keith stops, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and dipping him before kissing him again.

“You’re a sappy loser,” Lance informs him.

“You love me so much you couldn’t even pretend to want a divorce,” Keith shoots back.

Lance sighs happily. “Not even a little.”

And God, is he ever grateful for that.

[marsupials-of-mars]

Was thinking about @ckret2 's bill when i wrote this, but it applies to bill more generally. I think the main thing people pick up on, maybe subconsciously, about their bill that makes him feel so accurate is that he feels.

A lot of people (and most people are guilty of this including me whether they mean to or not) tend to write him as a tragic immortal? In the sense that he's been beaten down by time and learned never to care about people, and has lost the ability to care.

And the first part of that is true!

He HAS learned never to care about people! In the tbob love page, he says its stupid to tie yourself to a mortal in a way where your happiness depends on them. He's LEARNED this. But he has NOT lost the ability to care. And he DOES care despite knowing he shouldn't.

He interacts with people genuinely, he legitimately enjoys the company of "lesser" mortal species, he has fun, he thinks about people when they're gone, he's taken lovers, he speaks in phrases hes picked up from past earth decades because he likes how they sound (ya dig?).

And some people are frustrated when he's written suave and unfeeling for this reason, because he is a goofball. But the thing is, he DOES act, in a way, suave and unfeeling when it comes to situations like Ford and Dipper. He plays up his "immortal deity" persona, constantly reminding them of all the knowledge he knows, PROVING his value to them.

But he gets mad! He falls in love! He jokes around because its fun! He gets stupid and reckless when he's upset! He burns bridges when he doesnt get his way! These are all insANELY short-sighted things for a trillion-year-old to care about!

This is why he can relate to people, and why he acts like a kid sometimes. I firmly believe that he stopped aging the day he destroyed his dimension (which is basically canon i think) not only physically but mentally. He legitimately cannot mature, cannot gain wisdom no matter how much he tries.

He has a lot of INTELLIGENCE and KNOWLEGE, but its like giving a child the library of alexandria and infinite time to explore. Sure theyll probably learn some things out of boredom or curiosity, but theres no curriculum. They COULD read it all, but why would they? That's boring and dumb and they want to climb the shelves and make book forts instead.

Now, more specifically about ckret2's Goldie:

He describes himself as a consumate extrovert. He hangs out with mabel and watches tv and goes to the Rainbow club. And while he does these things, he isnt thinking "this is so below me, why should i care about any of this?" He's just trying to have fun, and is knowingly fulfilling his social needs. He believes he and ford WERE friends.

And the most important part of this that im always thinking about is Bill claiming that being friends, enjoying peoples company, loving, playing, and all that is not mutually exclusive with being an all powerful god of destruction to be worshipped by all.

Which makes sense! Because he is INTELLIGENT and he knows that he's more powerful than these people, and he SHOULD be a being that demands their worship, and he needs to find something that lasts, and makes sense in the wake of INFINITY. But he also has the mind of a mortal, and he thinks the same way he always has. And with both of these insights, the ONLY thing that MAKES SENSE is to have his cake and eat it too. Focus on the big picture while also enjoying the present, SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Manipulating ford to his own end that leads him closer to his forever plan, while also bringing him to karaoke and falling in love. Securing his rule and reputation over the nightmare realm, being feared throughout the multiverse, having his fingers in as many pies as possible-- while partying with his henchmaniacs, drinking out of solo cups and flashing the cops.

Its the only thing that stops him from going crazy. If you have a mortal mind thats built to love and lose and feel and party and wisecrack, and you relinguish it to the horrifying prospect of timelessness, if you're always looking at the existential...you are not going to last a trillion years.

[lunaritex]

⠀𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ KISS BENEATH THE ICE 𖤐 . — park sunghoon

↺ CONTENT: enemies to lovers, non-idol and college au, reader is female (sunghoon calls reader princess), reader and sunghoon are part of the ice-skating team, kissing at the end, tooth-rotting fluff.

↺ FROM HYE: Reading and writing about an idol was definitely not in my 2024 bingo card. Hopefully I get his character right after inhaling content after content whoops... @kazuhaiku (I bet you didn't foreseen this coming)

Ridiculous proves to be an understatement to describe your current dilemma. Never in your life did you foresee yourself breathing in the same air as your number one most despised person: Park Sunghoon. You were dragged along by your group of friends to attend a party held by someone who you cannot remember. You could have been using the precious time practicing for your upcoming competition instead of wasting your time, standing in a corner as you watched everyone having the time of their lives. 

One thing led to another and you groaned at the sight of Sunghoon entering the kitchen, probably in search of something he could drink. He arched an eyebrow when he saw you leaning against the kitchen counter, a half-empty paper cup held in your left hand with your phone held in your right hand. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” He asked, having to slightly raise his voice as he reached your side, due to the loud booming music coming from the DJ. 

“And what’s it to you? Last I checked, you’re not my mother,” you retorted, raising the cup but Sunghoon was quick to snatch it out of your grip. 

You watched with disbelief and faint annoyance as he downed the remaining content in one go. He crushed the paper cup with one hand, accurately tossing it into the bin behind him without looking. Scowling at how he was showing off, you pushed yourself off the counter and attempted to leave, only to stop when he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. 

“What do you want now?” You snapped, irritance seeping into your voice. 

“No need to be so angry. How about we get out for some fresh air? We can go ice-skating if you want,” he proposed. 

“I-!?” You could barely speak when someone knocked you from behind, making you tipped forward. The next thing you knew, you fell into Sunghoon’s chest as he steadied you, hands resting on your waist. You were quick to move away, not wanting to make this awkward and mumbled a thanks under your breath. 

“...Fine, I’ll go with you,” you replied, and you pointedly ignored how your heart skipped a beat at how his face lit up before dragging you out of the party. 

~

You felt at peace the moment you stepped onto the ice rink, shoulders instinctively loosening as you elegantly glided across the rink. You have loved ice skating since you were young, wanting nothing more to pursue it as a future career and your dream was to represent the country in the ice skating Olympics. You came to a stop when you heard Sunghoon entering the rink, leaning back to rest your elbows against the edge of the rink as you watched him skate over to you with experience. 

Both of you are in the same team and due to your looks and excellent teamwork (if people were to ignore how often both of you are constantly at one another’s throat), you were often paired together for competitions. You did not expect Sunghoon to boldly corner you against the edge, arms resting on both sides of you and the sudden proximity does dangers to your heart and soul. 

“Whoops, my hands slipped,” he apologized, making you roll your eyes. 

“Haha, very funny. Perhaps you should be a comedian in the future,” you deadpanned. 

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but the thought of you having to work with someone else doesn’t sit well with me,” he smoothly admits, and the implications were as clear as day. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes met. Both of you could not find the urge to look away and you saw the way Sunghoon’s eyes trailed down your face, drinking in your features until they landed on your slightly parted lips. It was like both of your minds reached the same conclusion, with how you leaned towards one another, heads slightly angled to avoid bumping into one another. 

Fireworks exploded in your stomach the moment your lips met. It felt like something straight out from a romance anime, where the two main leads finally kissed after confessing their feelings. Sunghoon was the first to pull away, faint nervousness seen on his face; scared he had misread you and crossed the line. 

“So, does this mean we’re dating now?” You asked, noting how his shoulders sagged with relief and he smiled. 

“Sure, if you want to, girlfriend.” 

This time, the laugh and smile you gave him was genuine. “You don’t even have to ask, boyfriend.”

[hannigramislife]

Saw your thoughts on dazai ships and wanted to hear about your take on akutagawa ships.

Entrapta voice: You're asking me about my theories?? I've waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!

Hello friend! Thanks for the ask! I love talking about Akutagawa, he is my heart and soul, so this will be fun! I will take the chance to also thank you about your interaction with my posts, it makes my day ^^

Now, let's get into it!

Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa/Atsushi) - This is everything to me. Absolutely everything. They're in love. They're soulmates. They were created by the same ring of laughter. An angel lost its wings and they both fell in Yokohama, waiting to be reunited. Sskk is the definition of "whatever souls are made of, his and mine were the same." I cannot accurately describe how happy they make me. I can't even give a coherent and objective reasoning as to why they're the best ship ever, they just are. "Just the two of us? / Do we need any more?" WHY ARE YOU RECITING YOUR WEDDING VOWS NOW, GOD–! Anyways. 1 billion/10.

Chuuaku (Chuuya/Akutagawa) - Similarly to my other post, I don't get people who have a problem with this ship. It's cute, it's beautiful, it makes me happy. I talked to my friend about this issue once; like, why is multishipping not a thing in this fandom?? Maybe I want to jump around dynamics??? Can skk give me friends to lovers?? No?? Great, Kunizai it is. Like, why can't we let people ship other shit than skk and sskk?? Anyways, Chuuya and Akutagawa care for each other, there is mutual respect, they would be a great comfort to one another. I say valid, 10/10 ship.

AkuHigu (Akutagawa/Higuchi) - I love, love, love this ship. Love them. They're so cute?? Like, I'm a die-hard sskk fan until I die, but I would LOVE to see more of this ship. The scene where Higuchi goes to save him?? Where Akutagawa gains consciousness and the first thing he does, before he can properly gather his senses, is apologize to Higuchi?? Also, the whole episode where she's stalking Gin because she thinks she's dating Akutagawa?? Their interactions in Wan?? I actually fucking love them. Every time the focus is on them, I feel like I'm watching a shoujo anime. Higuchi makes me think that Akutagawa would be a romantic. I need more of theeeeeem. Literally they're born to shoujo and forced to shounen. 10/10.

Dazaku (Dazai/Akutagawa) - Since I expressed my frustration with the fandom regarding this in the Dazai ships post, I will focus on my opinions about this ship. Honestly, it makes me feel kinda awkward? When I think of them in a romantic manner? Feels just a little bit like missing a step. However, it's an interpretation I would be open to if I could be convinced that Dazai actually, you know, likes Akutagawa? Like, you know that one scene in Lady Bird that's like "I wish you liked me / You know I love you / But do you like me?" That's how I feel the dynamic is between these two. Yes, Dazai is hoping Atsushi will be good for Akutagawa, and yes, he is happy Akutagawa stopped killing, and God knows what his plans are for the future – but do you like me? Valid ship context wise, neutral territory, I just need a little more from Dazai before I can make a final ruling.

TaniAku (Tanizaki/Akutagawa) - LISTEN GUYS. LISTEN. I BLAME BEAST FOR THIS, BUT THESE TWO ARE SO, SO, SO IMPORTANT TO MEEEE. I unironically love them. I don't care that Beast is the only canon I have to work with for this ship; it's so good. Like, the way Beast Tanizaki understood Akutagawa?? The way he supported his revenge mission from the get go?? The way he stormed the Mafia HQs and fucking held an assassin hostage just so he could help Akutagawa?? Ride or die. That bitch. I would actually die if I saw them interact in canon. Like, that's your bestie in another life. 100/10. I need them. It is a need.

TachiAku (Tachihara/Akutagawa) - I have no serious thoughts about this, to be honest. I think it would be lowkey hilarious. I haven't had nearly enough interactions between them for me to get attached to this ship in any way. Plus, now that we know more about Tachihara's...real self, I would love to see more of these two! I am going to allow this ship, and hope to see these two at least fight by each other's side in the future!

I think that's it for the most popular ones, please let me know if I forgot any ships!

[tma-reader-inserts]

Michael x fem spiral avatar reader

Once you went through the door, out of the twisting, static filled hallways, you collapsed and cried. Slowly and with great effort, you crawled from the door behind you as you sobbed, even as the tall figure leans halfway out and taunts you.

“Little thing…” it hisses. Not meanly, not aggravated, it hisses softly, almost lovingly if it could. “Won’t you, will you please reverse your way and twist back around?” a sharp, pointed finger of it’s trails down your back and you shudder. “The space within the walls would weep for your departure.”

With the last of your strength, you managed to launch yourself upwards and throw yourself through an already partially broken window.

You could almost hear a sigh of disappointment.

–

Sleep was a companion, a friend. You slept all the time, whenever you had time to spare. Your ground floor apartment looked more like a giant nest. It was a studio, everything in one room with the water closet door never closed (why would it be, you lived alone and never had guests). Since your escape, you clung to sleep like a drug to soothe your fears. The nightmares are incomprehensible anyway, and you hardly leave your dwelling for any reason at all save to get food and supplies. You worked from home, during the few hours you were awake, and the rest you slept.

You’ve taken to crawling out windows now, distrustful of doors and how your apartment suddenly had many more of them than they used to. Or at least you think it used to. Days blend together with the sleep. You rise not with the sun, not with the moon and stars, but to something you cannot see or know. You're exhausted when you are awake, half delirious and hungry and thirsty and something you cannot explain. Delirious and happy, giggling, mad, crying, yelling, barking laughter.

You wonder if you used to be like this, before the doors, before sleep took such a hold on you like how a lover holds you in your sleep.

You wonder if you’d sleep better with a lover, if there's something out there to love you and hold you, something heavy and warm and consuming. Something dazzling like a night light and confusing like the final thoughts before unconsciousness. Someone to wrap around you like a blanket and buzz like a sound machine to lull you into your nightmares and dreams.

You half wish you dreamed more. More of the thing from the hall, the closest thing to an ideal lover, holder, sleep partner. Sure you were scared in the halls, scared of the blond? Thing at first, how your eyes slid off of it’s features and how you couldn't focus on it at all. But then again, is that not what a dream is like? You dared anyone to accurately describe someone from a dream.

And it sees you when you sleep, you know. You hear the door creak occasionally as you drift off in your pull out bed nest, hear its static voice get muddled with you sound machine as it coos to you disturbing lullabies and sings praises of “what you will be.”

Your neighbor upstairs has been sleeping fitfully, you notice. He turns all night you hear while you're awake when it's dark out. Hear him mumble while the sound machine is off. Hear him gasp and yell occasionally.

Not a problem for you, though. You sleep just fine.

But then you don't. Then you don't sleep at all. It feels like days, or was it weeks? Days of cruel consciousness, night of horrid clarity. The doors disappear, the thing leaves.

You cannot sleep.

You miss the halls terribly now, while awake there, it felt like a dream, it felt unreal yet steady in an odd,comforting way to you. Like how in a dream everything makes sense even if it doesn't. That's what you miss.

You become desperate, nearly foaming at the mouth for the sweet, sweet, sweet fuzz of semi-consciousness. For the doors to take you back (how dare you leave), for the twisted thing to take you again.

You go to the closest wall to you and knock

[physalian]

Tackling Characters with Mental Health Issues (or, ‘Write What you Know’)

**Trigger warning for this entire post**

This is completely off the cuff and unplanned but here we go. I just read a book that POV switches between its two romantic leads. One of these leads was intended to be written with a severe case of generalized anxiety. I have confirmation from the author that it’s not an author-insert. This character was entirely based on research, not experience.

Without putting them on blast, because they really did try…. While ‘neurodivergent’ or ‘mental health disorder’ isn’t a protected class, it should still fit squarely under other topics you shouldn’t write about if you don’t experience it with a massive asterisk.

TL;DR: If you yourself aren’t part of X minority or suffer Z physical or mental disability, you should not be barred from writing characters with those traits. ***HOWEVER*** writing these characters struggling, suffering, or overcoming this given trait in a pro-cis, straight, white, neurotypical, able-bodied America is not yours to touch.

This suffering isn’t your story to profit off of, when you didn’t actually suffer any of it.

I cannot remember who said it and I am absolutely paraphrasing but for example: White authors can and should include characters of color (and I am a White author). White authors should *not* write about a character of color as their protagonist experiencing bigotry, discrimination, hate crimes, and all that hardship, at the hands of white society. It’s just not your story to tell, and all the research in the world will never give you the lived experience you need to do it justice.

Like, you can write about the concept of slavery existing in a fantasy novel. Or sci-fi. Or some Alternate Universe historical fiction. You cannot write about the American slave trade like you lived it and still suffer the ramifications of it when you didn’t, especially when it is the thesis of your entire book.

Anyone remember that awful Amazon movie, My Policeman? Based on a book written by a straight, white woman whose straight female lead took an entire narrative to whine about how she was jilted by her gay husband and his gay lover who she got arrested and institutionalized so she could keep her husband… and never told them? With the predatory 3rd love interest and the whole ‘liar revealed’ and… yeah. That one.

Unless you do the work very few authors are willing to do, with permission and encouragement and a backing from whatever minority you’re writing about and their stamp of approval that you knocked it out of the park, just don’t. Save yourself the headache.

—

As I read this book, and this entire character’s arc is about her mental health, for 100k words… why would you *want* to take on that responsibility? Why would you want to take on all that extra research, all the stress of making sure you get it right, all the costs of hiring sensitivity readers and the risk of your character falling apart with readers who do fit these traits?

Characters with mental health problems are very, very tricky to get right for one massive reason: Accurately depicting many disorders and anxieties means your character can come across as extremely unlikeable, uncompelling, confusing, and frustrating. These characters won’t make logical choices or arguments, they’re likely to self-sabotage, contradict themselves, argue in circles, and die on molehills they think are mountains. This is just what anxiety does to people in the real world. We are not always compelling protagonists, and we don’t always get happy endings.

Writing illogical characters takes a lot of practice if you yourself are not an illogical thinker and if you’re writing half a book elbow-deep in 3rd person limited, intimately trying to describe how this disorder impacts their daily life, you, my friend, have so much more work cut out for you than you anticipated.

So why?

It got very sticky very quickly when the message I took away from the book was “character A can love away character B’s anxiety” and that just… it’s just not how it works. That is a very dangerous mindset to have, for both parties involved.

Character A does not exist to “fix” Character B, nor should A exist to be B’s therapist.

Making A B’s “medicine” can encourage some dangerous codependency. Especially if they break up, B backslides and spirals, and A takes on guilt for not being there anymore, as if any of this is A’s fault.

It says that ‘curing’ anxiety just takes a little romance. Which. No. B has to love themselves, first, before they’re able to love anyone else or let anyone else love them.

It got stickier when the author accidentally wrote a trauma-induced ace who wanted to start liking sex to please her partner and not for her own peace of mind (with internalized self-hate for her anxieties around sex as if not liking it after a traumatic experience isn't completely justified), as if she wasn’t good enough with the boundaries she had. And the narrative backed it up because she was *cured* after a couple rounds in the sheets—I worked really hard on my Ace character guide to help stop people from doing this.

Had Character A accepted these boundaries B had, and these two come to a creative compromise around intimacy that B does like, it would have been so much healthier. B liked making out, just not being the 'recieving' partner, while A chose to die on a 'if we can't have the sex I want, I can't be in a romance with you' hill and it just broke my heart for B. B wasn't being picky. B was traumatized.

The worst thing you can do to your ace character is a) reinforce the idea that they’ve failed as a human because they don’t like sex and b) reinforce the idea that they “just haven’t found the right person yet” and this narrative hit both in the bullseye.

The author wasn’t trying to write an ace, I can tell, but aceness aside “good sex is the best cure to your sexual trauma” is… also, not great? If you yourself didn’t experience this? The point of all of this was clearly to attempt exposure therapy, it just got so bogged down with other problems that the nuance necessary to stick the landing was completely lost.

If this was fantasy, like Twilight, with Bella’s dangerous codependency on Edward in New Moon, mental health is not the point of that book. The author didn’t set out on a mission to provide respectful representation of depression and healthy relationship goals. It’s toxic as hell, but it also takes a backseat to the actual story and the audience who loves those books couldn’t care less about how toxic it is.

The books aren’t about Bella overcoming her depression. They’re about sparkly vampires and the dangers of… teen pregnancy?

It got even *stickier* when the character revealed she’d apparently been in therapy for a decade and a half, only for her therapist to shrug and go ‘I guess you’re stuck with it’ while her mental health issue became a physical health issue, because she should have had a crippling eating disorder that the narrative didn't at all take seriously.

Why would you want the stress of writing this?

—

I am not at all saying you can’t write anxious characters if you yourself are not anxious. But make that an ingredient of the pie and not the entire pie, yeah?

Ask yourself why you’re doing this. The fundamental argument of that book seemed to be “anxiety can be loved away” and from the very first page, it was doomed. That was the book’s thesis. The entire story hinged on the success of this depiction.

I can’t even be mad, because it wasn’t intended to be harmful, but it inadvertently reaffirmed so many dangerous and incorrect assumptions and stereotypes about mental health. Good intentions historically do not guarantee good results.

If you do not suffer from anxiety, you are still allowed to write a character who experiences it (Or OCD, specific phobias, BPD, what have you). I tip my hat to anyone willing to do all the work to get it right because those are all tall orders, but you aren’t blacklisted from these characters.

But with any minority, anyone who isn’t “cis, straight, white, male, neurotypical, and able-bodied” write a character who is also X, instead of an X stereotype, who happens to be your character.

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

It​ is not a coincidence that in the last two decades of the 19th century, as the invert case study put gay lives into print for the first time, we begin to see the first novels that, rather than including gay characters within Zola-style social narratives, are instead about homosexuality, or, more accurately, about the condition of being a homosexual. There weren’t very many of these books, and most are long forgotten. But already, as Graham Robb observed in Strangers, his study of homosexuality in the 19th century, the trope of the ‘gay tragic ending’ was in evidence: ‘In twelve European and American novels (1875-1901) in which the main character is depicted, often sympathetically, as an adult homosexual man, six die (disease, unrequited love and three suicides), two are murdered, one goes mad, one is cured by marriage and two end happily (one after six months in prison and emigration to the US).’ As Robb says, it cannot only be that authors felt they had to inflict punishment on their characters, as a way of redeeming their text in the eyes of the censor. The tragic death was a strategy: by showing a doom to which gay men were fated, they were arguing against the society that made it inevitable. The case study underlies the major tradition of gay writing that developed after 1945 and that persists to the present day, the often melancholic or tragic novels of individual struggle, of childhood and adolescent experience, of attempted repression, of searching, of sexual experiment and release: from Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar to James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, to Edmund White’s A Boy’s Own Story to Annie Proulx’s ‘Brokeback Mountain’ to Garth Greenwell’s What Belongs to You to Édouard Louis’s The End of Eddy to Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper. Those novels that largely or entirely concern themselves with gay male characters – such as Alan Hollinghurst’s The Swimming-Pool Library, which has no women in it – also have a relationship to the case study, which, especially once it concerns the subject’s adulthood, essentially limits itself to describing his interactions with men of his own kind. The requirement to lift our sights – to see gay lives as they interact with, to use Zola’s words, family, nation, humanity – is especially pressing if we are dealing with the past, when society was culturally and legally premised on heterosexuality to an extent no longer possible here (though still the case in many non-Western countries). To write about gay men in Britain in the 19th century, for example, should be to write about them as sons, brothers, friends, lovers, husbands, fathers, grandparents, members of a social class, employees, employers, thinkers, readers, politicians, imperialists and so on; as part of the world, not as apart from it. To return to Forster’s definitions, this would be to take gay men out of story and put them into plot; to turn them from ‘flat’ characters, with one dominating trait, into ‘round’ ones. This does not mean that we should minimise sexuality – rather, we would see its significance more clearly, as it disrupts, or perhaps doesn’t, in all areas of life; in so doing, we would see the society more clearly also. The same can be done in novels about the present: to live up to the full ambition of the idea of ‘queering’ – as disruption – we need to see a queer individual in the full spectrum of their relationships with people, places, institutions. To keep our exploration within the bounds of identity is to conspire in our own limitation. Full article: "Balzac didn't dare: Tom Crewe on the origins of the gay novel" [London Review of Books]

A rather thought-provoking article! The assertion about contemporary gay literature (the whole gay-related media, actually) still being centered on homosexuality itself is very true, and it's something I consider a crucial matter. And, of course, this also makes you raise questions over isolationist movements inside the LGBT+ community.

[seisho99]

all of them. daiya. please

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

im literally so bad with voices its insane . i love you but why would you do this to me MORE UNDER CUT

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

KURUMI + RIKU !!! rumi especially . they were all sent 2 the same prestigious art school on account of all being from relatively affluent families & have been inseparable ever since . w rumi specifically they have Always been on the same wavelength since their eyes met theyre like each others emotional support creature

3) What song describes your OC?

ive yet to find one accurately descriptive of him in his entirety but his solo is salvador by nilfruits which sums up his thoughts on art pretty succinctly !!

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

RUMIS SOLO i told you this i think its dedicated to them,,, also fireflies never came . YAYYY harumakigohan

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

I KEEPTRYING SO HARD TO MAKE OCXCANON WITH THEM IT NEVER PANS OUT HEAD IN HANDS

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

i think he & kaito would be warlock and wizard respectively,,, + either tiefling or earth elemental would be super fun

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

well obviously The Art Thing but other than that urban exploration 👍

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

RATHER POORLY . BECAUSE OF THE ABOVE . ADRENALINE JUNKIE-ISMS AND THE LIKE . 4 stuff like contagious diseases hes actually surprisingly cautious but physicall injuries nahhhhhhh

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

How Do You Fucking Think Annie Bongwater . no one ever asks how was the self destructive spiral was it fun did you have fun

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

i really didnt want a three person group so i went You know what this needs . Siblings who suck . (in all seriousness kaito was supposed to represent classic, traditional ideals of art that supposedly priorities technical ability while daiya was supposed to represent bold conceptual ideas of modern art with seemingly no regard for its basic foundations, and their conflict is meant to be about how no matter how hard you try you fundamentally cant divorce one from the other)

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

GEE I WONDER . I WONDER WHOS DAIYAS BEST OC FRIEND LETS REALLY PUT OUR HEADS TOGETHER HERE (hanabi confectiheartdare Your dorter)

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

no unless i decide to make ibuki and kaito friends in which case Yes

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

SEE ABOVE ?

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

THAT IS KIND OF HARD TO SAY . from viennrose specifically bc his addition was Very spur of the moment within canon . from art literally never thats in his blood babey

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

pretty nice ! one of the best of viennrose actually . their mother is incredibly sweet but has grown more distant and frail since they lost their father, so they make a joint effort to take care of her as much as she does for them

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

he/it ! mostly goes for he but likes switching it up

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

poly bi + giving varies but recieving just sort of likes reassurance that hes not going to be left behind

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

he does not ! metal pipe

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

FIGHT he never backs away even if its to his own detriment + kind of both ?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

already answered this yes absolutely 👍 he is stealing your possessions

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

YES ABSOLUTELY he loves singing he loves doing random little dances he loves creation he loves life !!!!!!!!

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

fuck i dont have one for him actually

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

beetlw,,,,,,,,

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

art kids . this is him normal

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

[the-journey-was-the-point]

OC Questionnaire!

Thanks for the tag @merilles ! I enjoyed reading about Medwed, I find the part about her and battle particularly compelling! 🐻🍯

For these questions I decided to answer with Linnéa!

1. How does your OC present themselves to the world (i.e. their persona) and does it differ from what they are actually like? If so, who do they feel comfortable taking the “mask” off around and why did that “mask” develop in the first place?

I think most people would describe Linnéa as quiet and efficient. The people of Laketown see her as a skilled apothecary who does her job reliably.

She doesn't get close to most people so very rarely do people learn about her true heritage (she's half-elf) or find out just how cunning but also weary she is.

This definitely developed as a result of her too-long lifespan, exacerbated by how she physically doesn't resemble an immortal elf! She ends up a spy too with so much hidden agendas which doesn't really help ^^"

She lets her mask down around her friends and later her Ranger lover. I think also around either anyone who gets in her way or can actually help her XD (basically when it's relevant)

2. What is one thing they could change either about themselves or the past? Why would they make that change? How would that change affect who they are and the world around them in their current timeline?

I think she would have liked to be either a full Elf or full Man. Her mixed blood screwed her over since she's socialized human and perceives time as one, but has the lifespan of an Elf, and can't even convince others to help her sail West cus she doesn't have the pointed ears to prove her heritage.

3. Drawing from the language of flowers, what flower(s) would best symbolize them and why?

Not really the language of flowers but a description that stuck with me is that the castor plant is used for many medicines but "is more likely to kill you than cure you". I think it's accurate to her dual nature-- she's an apothecary capable of great good, but as a spy (and goal-oriented person with dubious morals), she also has the capacity to use those same skills to cause great harm.

----

3 questions to pass along!

1) Has your OC ever burned or otherwise destroyed something that reminded them of unhappy times or experiences in their past?  Was this part of an arranged event?  Or something they did spontaneously or in anger?

2) What is your character's preferred way of coping with stress or difficult situations?

3) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them! (whether other OC or canon)

And I'm tagging @lanthanum12 @acornsandoaktrees @vinyatar @angbands-last-hero @loremastering @elgaladwen ! I'm not sure if you've already been tagged but feel free to answer or ignore ^^"

[dramioneldws]

🎵 Next year all our troubles will be miles away 🎵

December 16: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Frank Sinatra

Let your heart be light and treat yourself to today’s collection:

🎵

Title: Bah, Humbug!

Author: LiloLilyAnn

Pairing: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: Of course, the Golden Trio and their entourage would crash Draco's favorite pub on Christmas Eve, but Hermione Granger will have none of his wallowing. 

🎵

Title: Cheers

Author: HighLadyLily

Pairing: Theodore Nott/Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione turns to the boys for comfort after an encounter with her boss.

🎵

Title: Christmas Remembered

Author: Astrangefan

Pairing: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: Harry and Hermione share a Muggle moment during the war.

🎵

Title: Faithful Friends

Author: Frumpologist

Pairing: Sybill Trelawney/Antonin Dolohov

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: While imprisoned within a gilded cage by her old flame, Antonin Dolohov, Sybill has a vision that she knows cannot come to pass.

🎵

Title: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Author: EvergreenTuesdays

Pairing: Various

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: 1997 Christmas at the Manor

🎵

Title: Merry Little Christmas 

Author: KiraAnn

Pairing: None

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: Hermione finds herself wandering a winter market alone.

🎵

Title: Muddle Through

Author: AccioMjolnir

Pairing: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: There's not much worse than a baby in the hospital.

🎵

Title: Something Sweet

Author: Maira

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: Five years ago, none of these people ever thought they would end up like this. Best friends, partners, lovers; mere words couldn’t accurately describe the journey to get here.

🎵

Title: Through the Years

Author: WritingFicariously

Pairing: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: New York City isn't the same as The Burrow, but friends bring a bit of light into Ron's otherwise lonely Christmas.

🎵

Happy reading!

@floorcoaster & @mykesprit

[findinginga]

Going Home…

...and realizing the value of my Russian experience

Battling my anger and disappointment related to my interactions with Inga had been emotionally fatiguing but, unfortunately, distracted me from the enjoyment of exploring such a storied city as St. Petersburg.  I reflected upon this during my remaining few hours.  

There was little point in sleeping that Thursday evening as my flight for Helsinki was scheduled to depart from Pulkovo Airport at about 6:00 am.  I would have ample opportunity to sleep on my flights back to JFK, retracing my route from St. Petersburg to Helsinki to London and then to New York.  

I spent the remaining hours in my hotel room gathering my belongings and packing.  My COVID-19 results had been emailed to me and  they were now available on my phone to display, when requested.  I attempted to focus on a Netflix movie but I continued to replay some of the events of the previous days.  Certainly I could have managed my emotions better.  I regretted not having adopted a more dispassionate approach but, the rejection I felt had a lasting, stinging effect.  

I had reserved a car for 3:00 am not knowing how much time was needed for the check-in process.  I made my way to the lobby, closed out my hotel stay and briefly waited for my ride which carried me back to the airport.

My flights west were uneventful.  I was impressed with the efficiency of airport staff in Helsinki and London.  I had wondered if I might be delayed at Heathrow but their new terminals moved travelers quite well to their departure gates.  It was clear by the volume of those flying, COVID travel restrictions were starting to ease.  

When I was finally ensconced in my business class pod enroute to JFK, the pieces began to fall into place.  I realized that I had witnessed real-time manifestations of narcissistic behavior.  As a clinician I had learned about Cluster B personality disorders and had some experience over the years with patients in mental health crisis.  Over the previous year of interactions with Ingeborga, there had been evidence (she even alluded to the fact) that she was struggling with her own mental health challenges.  However, without direct communication and observation of her, it was impossible to know how much was real and how much was Inga attempting to manipulate.  I recalled her previous descriptions of paranoid ideations and "out of body' like experiences.  There was also her history to consider.  While recognizing that Inga was predisposed to crafting elaborate stories, if one were to take the history she did share as reasonably accurate and combine this with the personal, face-to-face interactions experienced, a picture began to form.

Do I have the right?

I spent considerable time wrestling with an internal conflict that grew in me.  Did I have a moral responsibility to remain silent about Inga?  Would I be breaching ethical tenets by describing, what I believe, are significant insights into her character?  My response to myself related to these questions may be an elaborate form of rationalization; however, I was not Inga's physician.  I was not Inga's caregiver.  Inga never took me into her confidence.  At all times she was superficial in the details that she related to me.  Inga and I were never lovers and I cannot even characterize Inga as a friend.  As it turns out, Inga seems to be merely a woman I met who I learned was carrying around a lot of emotional baggage and has a penchant for manipulating others for her own personal benefit.

A covert narcissist...

I often wondered why Inga felt it so important to communicate with me with the frequency that she did.  As I wrote in an earlier post, our early communications were irregular and amounted to a single email on any given day.  That frequency dramatically increased within a short period of time.  In my messages to Inga I attempted to be positive and encouraging.  I sensed within her a vulnerability and provided daily reassurances of her value, beauty and potential.  At the time it did not occur to me that I was actually fueling her narcissistic need, one that would never be satisfied.  Inga did not reciprocate in our communications.  She never initiated discussions related to intimacy and rarely shared words of encouragement or support.  Many conversations with Inga were peppered with negative self talk as she would speak of her weight or other aspects of her appearance as a way to garner positive feedback.

...lacking empathy...

Inga will freely admit that she has little to no empathy for others.  Her attitudes related to relationships can best be described as cavalier.  Ingeborga admits that she will jettison those from her life that may have wronged her or who she perceives are disloyal.  Inga insists that once she makes a decision about someone, there is no way back into her life for them.  It was interesting that she described a close personal friendship with a childhood acquaintance, Masha, who she later distanced when Masha had a relationship crisis with a boyfriend.  Inga's advice to Masha was to forget the guy and move on with her life.  When Masha repeatedly sought Inga's counsel, Inga was unable to relate.  She claimed Masha was emotionally tiring and she began to avoid her calls and invitations to meet.  Inga insists she has many friends but her relationships appear to be superficial.

...resistant to change...

Ingeborga seemed proud to proclaim that she neither looked forward or back.  She claimed that she had learned to live in the present and this was the best coping strategy for her.  However, Inga's unwillingness to plan for the future or to examine her past keeps her frozen, a reactive being.  Perhaps the potential of being disappointed when a future plan is unrealized and the pain of examining her past are simply overwhelming and generate anxiety.  Inga speaks of periods of anxiety and depression.  She has admitted to self-medicating to combat these feelings.

I would consider these things for the duration of my travel home and would more critically evaluate my interactions with Inga.

[voenvs3000w24]

Understand Nature Through Art

     Nature interpretation is a fascinating subject. On the one hand, it is something that has been studied, tested and honed into a craft that one must learn, and yet, on the other hand, it is something that (when referencing artistic expression) can come quite naturally to different people in different ways. For me, I am not a creative person, at least not in the traditionally artistic sense. I am not good at painting or drawing, and I can’t sing, or dance. When I’ve tried to describe scenes, monuments or experiences to people, it seems as if my words fall flat and don’t accurately represent what I’ve seen and experienced. That’s by no means to say that nature cannot be interpreted through these mediums; they absolutely can. I myself have experienced and been touched by other people’s interpretation of “the gift of beauty” (Beck et al., 2019). 

     That being said, as an avid nature lover, I would never want to leave people with an underwhelming perception of the outdoors because of my inability to express what I want to express. I have found when I want to convey something of substance to people, that photography is the best way to do so. It certainly requires skill and practice and is not something that everyone enjoys. It’s not always something I choose to do, especially when I am attempting to be more present and less connected to screens. But I have found that taking photos of nature enables it to speak for itself. I have a say in how the subject is portrayed with editing, positioning and such, but I am not the focal point of the story. In a sense, I can’t mess it up with my lack of artistic talent.

     Interpretation through art can take many forms, as mentioned above, art, theatrical performances, storytelling, music, dance etc (Beck et al., 2019). This week’s readings have certainly presented an interesting conundrum to me. How can someone who is not artistic, interpret nature through artistic mediums without assigning a meaning to the work of art? Perhaps being a nature interpreter means acting as a facilitator between the artists, nature and the audience. However, the artists themselves act as a connection between their preferred medium and the audience. I have enough friends and family members who are quite talented in various mediums, like poetry, music and such, to know that they do not appreciate being told what their work means. If that holds true for the broader community, then I wonder if the role of the nature interpreter is simply to facilitate and provide space and art. To let the audience come to their own conclusion, with some guidance and direction given. To equip and teach the audience how to interpret nature for themselves. Anyway, this week’s prompt stood out to me and definitely prompted some pondering. If anyone has any thoughts, I’d love to hear them! Have a great week, everyone!

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2019). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World. Sagamore Publishing.

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Future Member of Hamm's B.B.D.B Onesies®

Add style and make Daddy proud with this one-of-a-kind Hamm’s Onesies® features the phrase " Future Member Of Hamms BBDB". Nothing matters more than a baby's comfort, and this one piece is the right choice for all active babies. The envelope neckline and three snap leg closure ensure comfort throughout the day. Make sure to check out our Adult T-Shirts and Flannel Shirts too!

These gender neutral Gerber brand Onesies® are incredibly comfy! Both the bodysuits and t-shirts are printed on 100% cotton for a super soft feel. These unisex baby bodysuits are great to use as a take home outfit, baby shower gift or everyday attire!

All items are created or designed by Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations. We also print and heat press our items using our professional, commercial grade heat press! Each design is made with High Quality, Heat Transfer Vinyl. All of our bodysuits and t-shirts are made to order in a smoke free and pet free home. We only print on genuine Gerber Onesies® and Children’s Place. Gerber Children’s Wear holds the trademark for the word “Onesie®”. The term “Onesie®” is to reference the Gerber label and to describe the genuine Gerber Children’s wear products we use at Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Please also know that although every effort is made to photograph my items accurately, color may differ slightly from photos due to different monitor settings. Please contact me with any questions about the color or size of any item before purchasing. Have something in mind that you’re looking for? I love custom orders! I can make custom changes to all existing designs that are currently available in my shop. Please send me a message, and I’ll be happy to help!

After a package leaves my hands with the post office, Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations is not held responsible. Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU! Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

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Add a style to your mini-me's wardrobe with our designed sleeveless onesies bodysuit, not only practical, but also cute as can be!  This is a perfect design to have some fun with any Hamm’s Beer Bear Lover! Our Future Member of Hamm’s B.B.D.B Onesie!    

The onesies bodysuits are made with 100% cotton rib with organic fibers to ensure the fabric that touches baby’s skin is both safe and soft.  Onesies are excellent for layering to keep your Baby warm on colder days, or the onesies can be worn all on their own to keep Baby cool when the temperature is warm.    

The onesies are designed with higher snaps in front which helps for easier diaper and outfit changes.   They also offer an expandable lap shoulder neckline for easy on and off.    

Care instructions:  Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener.  Do not dry clean.  Do not iron.  Tumble dry low.  

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Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures. 

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #Hamms - #HammsBeer - #HammsBear - #Babyclothing

[sneezemonster15]

Hi, I’ve always wondered what Kishi meant when he said in an interview that he wanted Sasuke and Naruto to be more brothers than “blood brothers”. What do you think he meant by that? I mean I’ve always found this such an weird and suspicious thing for him to say because what the hell is more brothers than blood brothers? It makes no sense but I mean he’s always had a difficult time labelling their relationship (for obvious reasons lol). So what do you think?

Hi anon.

No you are right. I have talked about it before. Kishi has always had a difficult time labelling their relationship. Imagine the characters he wrote as sun and moon, earth and heaven, fire and wind, yin and yang, heavily imbued their relationship with tropes quite easily found in classic literature about romantic love, how would he explain this relationship to people in his target audience?

More brothers than blood brothers is a way of saying they are closer than blood brothers. Naruto cared for Sasuke in a way that Sasuke's own brother wasn't able to do. No one hurt Sasuke more than his own brother, everything that happened to Sasuke with regards to Itachi only hurt him more, even if not all of it was due to Itachi. Portrayal and significance of familial bonds in Japanese media is quite crucial to character building. To repeatedly indicate that Naruto cared for Sasuke more than Konoha and his friends, and Sasuke cared for Naruto at a time when he was single mindedly bent upon exacting revenge for his own murdered family, but still chose Naruto over it, shows how their bond is greater than any other bond in their world, whether it be love for one's family or love for one's nation.

Naruto kept proving his love to Sasuke, his trust in Sasuke and Sasuke finally gave in.

Of course Kishi knows they aren't brothers, he is the one who wrote them as lovers. But he cannot say it explicitly.

He also said he struggles to describe their relationship. We all do. Because it is greater than any conventional romantic relationship, words simply trivialize their love. Words aren't enough to describe their love accurately. And the kind of words that would somehow come close to describing it, Kishi cannot use them in interviews. So what does he rely on? Using words that say something very significant but also, doesn't raise suspicion.

To say that a non-blood related bond is stronger than a blood relationship, is saying something big, in Japanese culture.

[tothewhistlingwinds]

Hello, dear author!~ So I'm just fresh off of playing the demo for your IF and, GOODNESS. I cannot wait for more!! As a lover of reading stories, I love the patience you put in your writing, the bits of humor you put in, and the way you carefully build upon that reveal of the true heart and motivation of the story. It's storytelling that I truly adore. I really am so eager for more updates 😭😭.

Also I'm Filipino and living in the Philippines and so far, your incorporation of Alejandro is super refreshing!! I squealed so hard when I found out he's Filipino!! Can I ask how you came upon creating his full name? Because it's so impressive to me? The four-name structure is so reminiscent of so many Filipino people I know (including myself) lol. Also "Makisig" means dashing or handsome in Tagalog and I don't know if you did that intentionally or not but it made me chuckle SO much. It made my day by the millions. 😆😆

Sincerely hoping that you had/are having a good day today. And if not, I hope this ask brought some form of joy to you, to give back the joy your IF brought to me today :].

Hi! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I'll admit I kept this in my inbox for a while, just because it was so sweet and it brought me a lot of joy to reread. I'm glad you enjoyed my writing and my incorporation of Alejandro!

Two Filipino friends of mine gave me advice on his full name, so I'm glad you found it accurate. "Makisig" is definitely intentional on our part, haha, one of them suggested it after I described him.

In-universe, Alejandro's mom was into theme naming (Vowel name + matchy-matchy Tagalog name), so his older bio sisters are Evangeline Marilag and Isobella Marikit. You might meet one of them later in the demo! His stepfamily is Spanish-Filipino, so their names differ.

And yes, Alejandro thinks their matching names are super cringe even though his parents thinks they're sweet.

[breitzbachbea]

Tell me about Franci the slut uwu

I cannot say no to this!!! :D

Franci is the nickname of Francesco Belfari, born and raised in Napoli, Campania. In my AU Universe "Like Father Like Son", he's part of Team Italy, more specifically a right hand to Feliciano. He is the bloke on the left in my header and here's some more artwork of him:

The first one is him with Feliciano and Dolcetto, just like my header, artist being my friend C0FFINATED on twitter.

The other two are by @pyromaniacqueen who, holy shit, is insanely good at drawing muppets. Drawing in general, but look at that muppet pirate! The picture below is him with Dolcetto's cat Machiavelli.

For some basic backstory: He was born and raised by a single mother in Naples & left home at 16 to travel around Italy + neighbouring countries. He kept himself afloat by doing odd jobs, both legal and illegal. And he got such an reputation among the Italian underground with some of his stunts that he perked the Vargas' interests. (Sidenote, this was shortly after Lovino having inherited the 'family business' from his father). Finding out that he was in Rome, working at a strip club, Lovino sent Fabio, his only right hand at the time, to go and make him an offer. Francesco gladly took that offer, because he was too nosy for his own good & had maneuvered himself into quite the predicament with the club owners. So he ended up working for the Vargas and formed such a friendship with Lovino that when time came for Feliciano to be involved, Lovino made him Feli's right hand because he trusted Francesco to keep his brother safe and sound.

Francesco is a man that is hard to put into words. Charming, full with a zest for life and a knack for figuring out what makes people tick. He wants to be everyone's friend and doesn't hold many grudges, since they would get in the way of him enjoying all of the weird people life throws at him. He is also promiscous and flirty, and loves his friends to pieces.

He's also got a sadistic side inside of him that he tries to suppress, partly by using religion as a vent and guide (he's Roman Catholic), partly by justifying some of the vile exploits he delights in by only unleashing them onto people who're no better than him. People who have wronged his friends. Anything to feed the beast inside of him scraps before he has to chain it again, unless he doesn't want to look into the mirror anymore.

If you'd like to read some things that feature Francesco:

Italian Affairs, where he is one of the main characters and which describes him better than I ever could.

Mistletoen't do this to me, which has him also in his whole dirtbag glory.

The Drabble Collection has a few drabbles with him and Dolcetto, as well with him as a background character in one GerIta drabble.

The Res Publica AU features him as one of the main characters! Because Franci was made to be a sleazy politician in the 1st century BCE.

Ohne dich (schlaf' ich heute Nacht nicht ein) features him and the rest of Team North Italy only in very minor roles, but that story is a hoot and a half despite not being accurate to canon anymore when it comes to the main characters.

Motherfucker also has a playlist:

Sorry if all of this is disjointed and not very informative, but how to describe him? Whore. Saint. Monster. Down to earth and at the same time all the way to hell. Just your charming friendly neighbourhood neapolitan. A lover! A friend! Someone with a heart that cares and bleeds so genuinely for this world!

I think the bridge of Contronatura by Caparezza still sums him up best:

I am so beautiful That you forgive me for everything I am so beautiful That I am always in the right I am so beautiful I am not capable of hurting you I am so beautiful Of a deadly beauty