#pairing: platonic

[queenaeducan-writes]

Day 7: Free Day

Decided to spend the @cityelfweek free day sketching an idea I had forever ago. For context, this is about a year before Inquisition, juuust before the mage rebellion.

They all smell the smoke before they see it— an unassuming plume that rises from Jenna’s window, belying the danger within. Cries ring out through the Alienages, followed by orders, and soon a line forms through the streets and to the banks of the river. Buckets with water spilling out the sides lead a trail to the danger. The faces of their young are wet with a sheen of sweat and fierce with determination, knowing that if help will come at all, it will come too late.

The fire burns around the water heaped upon it, gathering smoke and rising higher within the walls of Jenna’s home. The work continues, quenching a patch of flame before another can alight. It eats at the roof, thatched straw collapsing to the horrified screams of onlookers.

Then, all at once, it is a memory.

Panicked cries turn to confusion, questions ringing out as harsh as commands while Jenna braves the ashes to salvage what she can of the ruins of her life.

Some swear their last bucketful of water had been the one to quench the flames. Others know what they had seen: it had not simply been put out, it had been suffocated. Erased. Only smoke remains, rising harmless into the midday sky.

It does not take long for rumours of magic to rampage through the Alienage, cooler than the fire, but no less deadly. In the commotion, no one sees the stranger slip from their midst.

No one but Nessa, at least.

She’s lived in the Amaranthine Alienage her whole life, and there are few places in it someone can hide from her like. She catches him in an alley, the smell of a storm clings to his tattered clothes despite the bright summer’s day blazing overhead. It had been decades since she’s last breathed that scent, but she’ll never forget how it raises the hairs in your nostrils. The stranger tenses at her approach, but tellingly doesn’t reach for a weapon.

At least, none wielded by traditional means.

“I have no coin,” he tells her in a weary voice, “and little else to my name but the clothes on my back.”

“I’d say you have more than that, ser. A gift I hear only the Maker can give you.” He flinches, ducking his head so his hood hides his face. She steps forward with her hands cupped around her elbows. “You stopped the fire, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

There it is again, she thinks: the sky, come to touch their little corner of the world.

“Neither do I, but I know some who would.” She smiles, despite the bitter taste that lies on her tongue just from speaking their memory. “You won’t be safe out here tonight, and I have a roof. Supper, too.”

The stranger regards her from a distance, as though trying to pry the truth from her words with a glance. Not an unfamiliar look. Those she’s helped before had been just as slow to trust. There are no words in the King’s tongue silver enough to undo that damage.

“You’ve been bit before. I understand, but we’re just two people, my husband and I. Out here, you put yourself in the whole city’s hand.” Nessa moves down the alley. One hand reaches out in welcome. “So come with me.”

The trip back home is less peaceful than usual. They take the back ways, skirting windows and doors before coming to Nessa’s. If she hadn’t lived her whole life, it’d be an easy place to miss. Little adorns the entrance save a potted plant and an awning painted faded yellow. “Here we are,” she says in a sing-song tone, like she were welcoming in any old neighbour.

She ushers him in first, the slide of the lock the sole indication that not all is as it seems.

Inside, the aroma of dinner rises first to meet them. Rosemary and onion overwhelm the senses, drowning out the dust and the dirt. “Looks like it’s pottage for tea,” she remarks. Looking to the stranger, she can’t help but smile at how stiffly he stands. “Well, go on then, make yourself at home. I’ll get you a little something to drink.”

“Bring home another stray?” her husband asks. He’s hunched over the pot like an old witch at her cauldron, flyaway grey hairs waving as if they had little minds of their own. They deflate when he looks over and sees who she came home with, cheeks fattening with a little puff of air as he tuts, “Oh, Nessa. We’ve talked about this!”

“What was I supposed to do, Tal? Edith’s probably got the Templars looking for him already.” It’s an argument that’s played out half a dozen times over the last half a decade. She can’t rightly say who had won the last one, though from the sigh that comes from the kitchen, she’ll say she can count this one hers. “Half the quarter’d be up in flames if it weren’t for him.”

Her tone softens for the stranger, rounding on him with a pleasant, “how do you take your tea?”

“Water would be preferable, please,”  he answers without a moment’s consideration.

“Coming right up, love.” Stepping into their little corner of a kitchen, she adds to her husband: “See? This one’s got manners, to boot!”

Tal’s response is reduced to a disgruntled huff, attention fixed upon the simmering pot. Like he’s watching the Queen’s dinner cook. Nessa grabs a mug from a peg and tilts it into the clean water, returning to find the stranger had taken her advice. Despite how he hunches in his seat, there is a proud set to his shoulders. His hood drapes around them, revealing a clean shaven head and a severe jaw. A man of some years, but still young to her old eyes.

“Sorry about Tal,” she says as she slides into the seat across from him. “He doesn’t mind, really, he has to protest only so he can be right if something ever goes wrong.”

“His concern is not unwarranted. They will not look kindly upon your aid, should they find me.” He palms the cup, a layer of frost forming under his fingertips.

“We’ve had some close calls, but we’ve managed alright in the end.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Once or twice. More since the Mages’ Collective have caught wind of my sympathies.”

“Dangerous sympathies.” Ice begins to form in a thin film upon the water’s surface, moved by currents invisible to the eye. He drinks deep from the cup, voice lighter in the wake of it. “It is a wonder you would trouble yourself at all.”

Nessa smiles, a little pained. “I could say the same of you.”

“Perhaps I speak from a place of regret.” He’s looking at her again, like he’s trying to read a book. A stubborn line creases his brow, and she suspects he’s come away wanting.

“Well, it’s a shame if you do, though I can’t say I’d blame you either way.” Her fingers find the familiar grooves in the table’s surface, and work into them, thumb stroking the seam of the wood like an old cat. Pockmarks dot the table where a little hand had driven the prongs of a fork into the surface. Tal had always meant to fix them, but he couldn’t bring himself to anymore than she could bring herself to throw out the old toys gathering dust in the closet.

She supposes he’d be about the stranger’s age, now. Taller than her, with his father’s dark hair. If it hasn’t already started to go white.

Her hand fists on the table. A sigh carves through her chest.

“It’s the way the world is. Nothing the likes of us can do to change it, eh?”

“I would not discount your courage,” he says. “The world may yet change in our lifetimes.”

“A young man’s hope,” Nessa laughs, “but I’ll pray for it the same.”

[petite-phthora]

Dp x Dc prompt #2

Danny doesn’t often go to protests. But this time when Sam asked him to come along to an Animal Rights protest, he accepted.

It’s when they leave Amity when he gets knocked down by Cujo, who decided that that moment was the perfect time to play a game of fetch, that he decides to just take the little guy along to the protest.

He couldn’t say no to that little face that looked at him oh so sadly when he told Cujo they couldn’t play right now cause he had somewhere to go.

And besides, what could go wrong?

He didn’t think he would end up in an argument with another guy at the protest about the hypocrisy of going to an animal protest with an animal that seems to be cruelly dyed a different color.

Now, how does he explain to this guy that Cujo is naturally green?

[keferon]

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in snow bots AU :D

Them and their stupid winter crop tops. I’m gonna call them Pneumonia duo

[daddiesdrarryy]

James: Is it still awkward between us, Pads?

Sirius: Kinda hard to ignore it, Prongs. You know what you did

James: Okay, I’m sorry I thought you were Reggie and slapped your arse at the Halloween party! You both have the same hair from behind!

[venice-1987]

Soren and Rayla are a criminally slept on friendship, they are both very skilled warriors, they are both child soldiers, they both have to reconcile duty with personal ties, they both worry about Viren, they both have humongous hearts that they would sacrifice for others in a second, their season 4 and 5 interactions slayed, they are both sassy, chosen brother and sister slay, send tweet

[hemlock-dreams]

Is the "I'd kill for you"/"Promise?" moment when Peter falls for Wade?

Peter's feelings have most definitely shifted into something very serious(TM) towards Wade.

As for MJ, Peter will always have feelings for her. He'll be in her orbit until the day he dies- but this MJ isn't his MJ. He doesn't want to replace the precious memories of MJ he has with this one either, it wouldn't be respectful to either of them.

He's also not keen to repeat old mistakes. He knows he wasn't a good partner to her back in his old world. Spiderman always took precedence over their relationship, he was always absent. Their relationship towards the end started turning toxic because he just couldn't choose her over the suit.

Despite how much they loved each other, their values just didn't align and Peter knows he forced MJ to do the bulk of the emotional lifting in their relationship. He won't do that again.

Not to mention his venom and strength meant he always had to watch himself- a lot of his body could be toxic to normal humans which meant he had to stay distant. This obviously didn't go over well with MJ, especially because she didn't know why he never wanted to kiss her for long, amongst other things.

But Wade's different. They're coming from the same spheres, and he matches Peter's freak is ways Peter didn't know he needed. He's indestructible, violent, competent and exactly the kind of predator Peter's prey drive goes fucking insane for.

TLDR: Peter will always love MJ, but he knows he needs to let her go, for both their sakes.

[sidsinning]

idk what else to say but shes insane for doing this IMMEDIATELY

[bizarre-blues]

I miss swing dancing and ADORE the 80s retro looks- had to combine them

[codename-adler]

what if we made Jean and Neil kiss. on the mouth. and it was platonic. wouldn’t that be beautiful?

[jasontoddsgaythoughts]

Batlantern and Jaykyle fans don’t use Guy Gardener and Dick Grayson as a chaotic duo enough, because what do you mean there’s no fic where Batlantern and Batlantern jr vacation at the same alien planet by “coincidence”

[escespace]

Leon: Ok. What's going on?

Merlin: What do you mean?

Leon: What's the matter? What's wrong with you?

Merlin: Listen, I know myself so you have to be a little more specific if you want a short answer.

[queenaeducan-writes]

A Little Light

Pairing: Jowan & Connor Guerrin Characters: Jowan, Connor Guerrin Fandom: Dragon Age Archive Warnings: N/A Other Tags: Mages (Dragon Age), Mentioned Surana, Mentioned Jowan/Lily Summary: After years of young apprentices giving him a wide berth, lest they catch his talent for mediocrity, Jowan finds himself in the position of tutor to the young Connor. Written for havvwke/wintertree for the Platonic Ideal Exchange!

Freedom is not at all as Jowan imagined it.

In his youth, he pictured fields of flowers and skies teeming with birds. Sweeping landscapes the likes of which he knows now exist only in picture books. As a man grown, he pictured only Lily, and perhaps a home to raise a family.

As it turns out, freedom bore neither.

His bunk at Redcliffe Castle is as bleak as the one which now lies empty at Kinloch Hold. Bleaker, perhaps, without the nighttime whispers between his fellow apprentices to remind him he was not alone in the world. The walls are high, with slim windows scarcely wider than an arrow shaft. True, he can come and go as he pleases, yet when the day’s hours are his to spend, it’s all too easy to latch himself in his room and brood.

He settles uneasily into his new routines: by day, learning Connor in the arts of magic, and lying in dreamless sleep by night. He keeps the phial of Arl Eamon’s poison close at hand, telling himself that he simply awaits the opportune moment. He refrains from counting those that have already passed him by: an instant where Eamon’s goblet stood unguarded, a breath where the cook had her back turned from his meal. So many years at the Circle have left him accustomed to the idea of being watched. He imagines Templar eyes boring into the back of his head, anticipating treachery, and he slips the poison back into the folds of his sleeve.

And Arl Eamon lives another day.

The phial watches him, now. Glinting from atop his dresser, as if it is possessed of its own wicked inner light. Even as he turns away and closes his eyes, he sees it blinking behind his lids.

He lies still. Awake, then asleep, then awake again. His dreams flood with the sound of the Chant, sung in Lily’s voice. All is black, save the golden chime of her song. Desire courses through his veins, so potent they ache.

Awake again, and the air around him is hollow, joyless. The glare off the phial is drowned out by torchlight, and Jowan sluggishly comes to the realisation that there is someone at the door.

Read the rest on AO3!

[misteria247]

You think that Fiddleford offers advice to Ford, Mabel, Dipper, Wendy and Soos on how to handle certain side effects of Stan's memory loss? Like think about it-

Fiddleford is the creator of the memory gun, and the founder of the Blind Eye. He out of everyone knows this thing better than anyone else. Even with his own memories all messed up, he still knows it best. I can see Mabel and Dipper going to seek him out, to ask him questions about it. Or to just see how Fidds himself is recovering from his invention, and how he's become more like himself in some aspects. Just to be reassured that their Gruncle Stan is going to be okay even if it takes awhile. Or Soos just taking everything Fidds says about the memory gun to heart and keeping a closer eye on his father figure so he can be around to help if Stan needs it. Wendy always keep mental notes when Fiddleford mentions memory lapses Stan might experience and be ready to intervene should Stan need to be taken out of a situation where he experiences it in a public setting.

And Ford.

Dude would be absorbing every piece of information he can from his friend. From the side effects to the memory lapses Stan may experience to what's useful to help his brother as well as Fidds when he's in need of help. And Fiddleford he'd just help in anyway he can, wanting to help Ford and his family who've helped him with this whole thing.

And I can see Stan and Fiddleford bonding over this.

They'd click, having this mutual experience involving this gun and how it completely effectively changed their lives forever. How it left them both jumbled up and confused about parts of their lives and the people involved with them. From Stan with his brother, niece, nephew and adopted son and unspoken rebellious daughter to Fiddleford with his beloved son Tate. I can see them being unintentionally a comfort for one another. Just two old men bonding and helping each other.

I don't know y'all I think too much on this don't mind me-

[waitineedaname]

not romantic or platonic but a secret third thing (bonded pair)

[nexttrickanvils]

I came out of No Straight Roads shipping May and Zuke a little but this is absolutely their ship dynamic to me.

[captain-sunshine-11]

Matt Boyd and Aaron Minyard friendship, guys. Guys, Matt and Aaron Friendship, guys.

I love the Matt & Andrew friendship headcanons cause the dynamic is fun but look no further than the other Minyard brother.

They would be rooming for another three years and Katelyn would probably encourage double dates with Matt & Dan. Dan & Matt would be all for it because their goal has always been to integrate the Monsters in with the Upperclassmen, and Aaron is loathe to say 'no' to Kate.

They wouldn't necessarily bond over it, but they both understand what it is like to be an addict, I would think they would look out for each other even if they both have strong motivations to not give into their cravings.

Aaron introducing Matt to new video games and Matt strong arming Aaron into watching the Fast & Furious Movies and the Matrix movies. They end up getting way too into both franchises and are always kind of disappointed at new additions.

Matt picking on Aaron for snoring when he sleeps on his back and Aaron repeating things Matt says while sleep talking.

Besides Andrew and Nicky, Aaron missing living around Matt after they graduate.