#platonic lifemate

[agottamndelight]

Excuse you I will not stand for this Kevin Smith erasure

[hottakehoulihan]

Arc 29 chapter 9 excerpt

[Number Man talks to Rachel while Taylor is piloting an aircraft] "…We’re a good height above the water, and I can’t help but see a bit of our pilot’s reflection in the window. She looks a little peaked. Would you mind keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t stop breathing?”

“I'm okay,” I said. I grit my teeth. “Four or so minutes and we’re there.” “Very reassuring. But maybe-” “She’s fine,” Rachel said.

But I could hear the distinct sound of her footsteps and the claw-on-metal-flooring racket as she and her dogs approached. She stood beside my chair, back to the window, and put one steel-toed boot up on my armrest.

“Not because of what he said,” Rachel said. Her body faced me, but her head was turned to look out the window. “Keeping you company.” “Yeah,” I said. It was appreciated.

[spandexinspace]

Lost focus again but I started/restarted my goodish! B4 fic and it's so important to me that she's a dad. Specifically a 300 year old 23 year old dad who isn't quite clear on how he became a dad but sure does know how to make a mediocre box mac and cheese. Except she can't make box mac and cheese. But she can threaten to blow up a planet for her son's sake and make several of her employees/coworkers pity her enough to help out a little.

[lacilou]

I just read an absolutely beautiful love story. Where Jensen fell in love with a woman but was also in platonic love with Jared. It had s tad bit of jealously, but it was a love story like no other. I would LOVE any more like this or if I could commission one. I loved the whole breaking of societal norms and the non-judgmental love.

The story I read was: Win A Date with Jensen Ackles by abeautifullie3 on Ao3.

Any suggestions or if anyone is willing to take a stab at something like this, I'd forever grateful.

[caktusjuice-reblogs]

💜💜💜

It is important to me that you do not develop early onset carpal tunnel.

My hand hurts so much from working on this grimoire challenge. Am I going to change anything about my writing process? No.

I might just fuck around doing something other than writing and typing for a hot minute, though.

[trudemaethien]

Shoulda Put a Brii’rud On It

Part 5 | Merverse Part 6 | Part 7

rated e, bacara/rex, violence, misunderstandings, size diff, great white shark rex is roughly 4x bigger than a human, depression/PTSD, Rex is mad, Bacara is sad, Neyo Is Complicated, plot holes

Neyo and Bacara are out on the waves in their boat. It’s a nice day, and Neyo is skinny dipping.

Bacara is the one to spot the fin. “Neyo!” he screams and Neyo flails, looking around alarmed. He abruptly goes under and nononono!

Bacara snatches their harpoon and dives in. He is the actual idiot who is going to try to stab a huge ass shark and see if he can at least catch his brother’s body in time to take him home one last time.

If they both go down, well. At least neither of them will be around to miss the other.

He cuts through the water, ignoring the drag of his waterlogged clothing, and sees them going down. Neyo’s fighting. Something about it looks strange from this angle but at least he’s not dead yet. Bacara nicks his arm on the sharp edge of the spear and kicks up a fuss. Hopefully the big beast will let go of Neyo and Neyo won’t be too injured to make the surface.

The shark turns, enormous and imposing and …impossible. It’s flat black eyes burn with hatred in its human face. Blonde hair and gills ripple. Menacing tail swishes side to side behind sharply jutting dorsal fin. It has teeth, so many teeth.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Neyo’s distinctive tattoos; he’s alive and kicking, rising to the surface, to safety. Good.

Bacara darts up and away, even knowing there’s no chance for him to outpace the shark. A man. A shark-man. A …mermaid? Merman.

The huge body slams into him, jarring his whole frame. It feels like getting hit with an IED, and Bacara wishes he didn’t know that. They glance off each other; Bacara is rather more affected than his adversary. If he could breathe right now, he would have called it getting the breath knocked out of him. His lungs burn. His flannel shirt is shredded, flapping behind him. He fights the urge to let himself inhale and desperately hangs onto his weapon.

The shark turns several meters below him and farther away, and Bacara orients himself towards the surface again. He can see in his peripherals that Neyo is nearly to the ship. Bacara decides he will go straight up and trust Neyo to come to him. He keeps his eyes on the shark even as he kicks hard to ascend.

The shark’s uncannily human face swiftly triangulates between him, Neyo, and their boat, calculating its next move. It charges at Bacara, deadly swift. He times it, rolls away at the last moment, stomp-kicks it in the side as hard as he can, stabbing with the spear held close to his leg. Hopefully this maneuver will injure it, or at least allow Bacara to steal some of its upward momentum.

He’s lucky his training included how to swim in boots. His foot hurts but so does the predator. A small spume of shark’s blood colors the water, trailing from its gills. His plan had worked, somewhat.

It writhes away, angry and in pain, not debilitated for more than a few moments. Bacara strains to make it up to the air he desperately needs. Spots dance in front of his eyes, but he’s sure he sees the boat nearing. The shark turns in a wide radius, less agile because it’s so big. Almost there. One last kick will see him to the surface, lungs burning.

It catches the shaft of the harpoon and his foot along with it, rips through the leather like it’s wet newsprint and tears the weapon out of his grip. He kicks and struggles but it wraps its enormous hands around his ankle, the one he had kicked it with, and yanks.

A shot cracks, muffled. The projectile cutting through water is a sight Bacara is glad to see, the spirals and ripples it cleaves as it travels, slower than it would through air.

The shark heard it too and its intelligent expression shows it’s wise to the danger of such a sound. It releases him and twists to avoid being hit. Immediately Bacara reaches for the surface and there’s Neyo, hauling him up with one arm and keeping the rifle aimed with the other.

Neyo’s still stark naked, of course. Of course. The silly detail is the only thing Bacara lets himself register as he chokes and heaves for the air he requires. His head spins. His leg hurts.

They are both on the boat, though, and neither of them is dying. They breathe a sigh of relief through their adrenaline surge, laughing with the grim joy of having survived.

The moment is broken when the boat shudders from stem to stern with the impact of a large body slamming into it from below.

“I didn’t get him?” Neyo asks, suddenly all business again.

“I don’t think you will. It’s too smart,” Bacara answers seriously.

As if to prove his words true, a pair of huge clawed hands grasp the rail and heave the creature over the bulwark, even as it breaches with the strength of its tail.

Their boat isn’t that big, only 12 meters. The monster is probably half its length. It flops and slithers around the small cabin toward them, intent on violence.

“Nervohd! Keeramood,” it snarls, clearly choosing Bacara as its first target.

“Naysh!” Neyo shouts. The shark and Bacara both startle and stare at the tattooed man in abrupt confusion.

read on AO3 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/35453905/chapters/88373716

[madlori]

Here's what I think, not that anybody asked.

A lot of people in liberal spaces think of their politics as very personal to them. Why shouldn't it be? Gay rights are personal to us. Women's rights, reproductive rights, universal healthcare, all these things are very personal to us. Some are about who we are, who our loved ones are, how safe we are and how safe our loved ones are. What's not personal about that?

Something being personal leads very naturally into something being part of one's identity. It's part of who we are, and what we believe.

This leads to treating the selection of a candidate to represent us as a personal decision. An almost intimate decision, like choosing a romantic partner, or a best friend.

IT IS NOT.

The choice of a candidate is the choice of policy. You are voting for policies that you would like to see enacted or upheld. You will not get everything you want, so you are choosing the direction you'd like to go. The candidate is a tool to achieve those ends. It is not personal. It is not intimate.

Your vote for a candidate does not constitute an endorsement of everything that person has ever said, done, or believed. The Platonic ideal of a candidate that so many people seem to believe in does not exist. You are choosing someone to advance the policies of the party you most closely agree with.

Don't make it like dating. It's not gonna work. You wouldn't "hold your nose" and select an auto mechanic to fix your brakes. You'd select the person best able to do that job for you.

You're hiring an employee, not finding a lifemate. And any manager will tell you that your employees will not always align with you on all characteristics, but you choose the ones best able to do the job you want them to do, with character that you can tolerate. Not necessarily glorify...tolerate is sufficient.

[glassghoulette]

Vulnerabilities

Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, not feeling good enough.

First time I've wrote something in awhile but I'm in my Sammy feels. Can be read either as platonic relationship or romantic whichever you'd prefer. Use of Y/N but no description of said Y/N. Please enjoy reading.

Everyone has their breaking points. We're human. We're built to only withstand so much before we break. It’s natural. What’s not natural, however, is just how far Sam went to hide the feelings he was keeping down in order for that to happen. So as you walk past and open the door to find Sam just… bawling. Bawling like he lost the most important person on Earth when just hours ago, he was good ol’ Sam, you feel your heart drop, and you make it your mission to comfort the poor guy. You rush in and sit on the bed, holding him tight but not too tight to hurt him just enough to let him know you were there.

"Oh Sammy, why didn't you say anything you big doof?" You chuckles slightly as you pull him closer. He melts into your embrace, burying his face into your shoulder as he continues to sob, making your top wet, but that's the last thing you're worried about right now. He doesn’t want to look weak and usually isn’t this vulnerable. This is the first time you've seen him like this in years. You've almost forgotten what he's like when he's in this state of mind.

"Didn’t wanna seem pathetic or be a burden…" He mumbles, voice strained and cracking. Your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"You're never pathetic or a burden not to Dean or me or Bobby or anyone." You brush the hair out of his face and look at him. "What's going on, Sam?" He sighs, leaning into your touch and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. That touch alone was enough to help him calm down.

"Just having a hard time…" he mumbles, burying his face again. He moves his face so he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, still embracing you. He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel him shaking slightly, which was a red flag in itself.

"Can I confess something…?" You nod and run your fingers through his hair. He shivers slightly when you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation and relaxing into you a bit more. He leans more of his weight against you, wanting to become as close as possible to you currently.

"I… god, I don’t even know how to start…" Sam mumbles, taking a shaky breath.

"It's alright, just take your time." You smile reassuringly at him. He nods ever so slightly, taking a moment to think while pulling you impossibly closer. He just needs the feeling of you, the smell of you, to help keep him calm. He takes another shaky breath, moving his face to bury into your neck, where you can feel his warm, quick breaths against your skin.

"I don’t feel like I’m good enough…" Sam finally mumbles, and you can almost feel his voice crack once again. You hold him tighter burying your face in his hair.

"Oh Sam, trust me, you're more than good enough. Dean and I would be nothing without you, Sam. Nobody could ever replace you. You mean so much to us, especially me, Sam." He shakes his head, burying his face further into your neck. He’s practically clinging to your right now. He can’t be alone right now. He needs you. He needs somebody, anybody, to keep him from drowning in these overwhelming feelings of self hate.

"Y/N… I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you… for anyone…" he mumbles, sounding borderline desperate, like he’s begging to be reassured.

"You are. Trust me, you are. Anyone who knows you is so lucky to have you in their lifem You are good enough, Sam Winchester, I promise." He lets out a shaky inhale, hugging you tighter. He clings to you like you’re the only rope keeping him from falling into a dark pit of self-doubt and hate. Your words mean everything to him, they always do, and especially right now when he feels so terrible.

"Y-you promise..?" Sam's voice is cracked, and a pitch higher than normal. It was absolutely gut wrenchingly to hear Sam, the strong, brave, Sam, sound so lost and vulnerable like he does now.

"I promise. You having this episode hasn't made me think anything less of you. You're human, Sam. we all have limits." He hugs you as close as he physically can, pressing you into his body. The feeling of you against him is doing wonders to help keep him grounded. You’re just what he needs right now to keep from being absolutely consumed by everything. He shudders as he holds back another wave of sobs.

"You swear you don’t think any less of me..?" Sam asks voice just above a whisper, in such a desperate tone it borders on sounding pathetic and needy, clinging to you like a lifeline.

"I swear, Sammy. How many times have you seen me broken down over the years, and you've never judged me for it, so I'm not going to do that with you." He nods, knowing that was true. He has lost count of how many times he’s had to comfort you on your worst days, hold and reassure you that you were good enough, that you were worth something, just like he needs right now. He squeezes you a little tighter.

"I know, but… I’m supposed to be the one with the ‘strongest mental state’… being broken down like this feels so pathetic, especially in front of you.."

"Stop it, Sam, you're not pathetic. This isn't pathetic. You've been through hell and back, literally. I'm surprised you haven't broken down as often as me. I'm so proud of you Sam so so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that." Sam's quiet for a moment. He has to hold back from getting choked up by those words. But of course, his heart does absolutely flip when you say that, and he can feel the tears stinging his eyes again. But not from sadness this time, no. This is different. It’s from just how absolutely undeserving he feels of the praise you’re giving him. He holds onto you tight, as if he’s begging you not to let go.

"God, how’d I get so lucky to have you..?" He looks up at you adoringly, and you brush the hair out of his face.

"I ask myself that about you every day as well." A small, soft smile forms on his face as well, one where you can just barely see the dimples that form in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s still holding you as close as humanly possible, needing the comfort that only you can give him right now, but his shaking has lessened now thanks to your comfort and your words. He still hasn’t let go, and you very highly doubt he ever will not when he's this vulnerable..

"I swear, just… don’t let go of me, please… I need you right now… I need to be close to you…"

"I'll be here for as long as you need me Sam. Don't worry about that."

[mybagisfull]

that vibe when you and your platonic lifemates use pain split to save your three-way mutual crush from dying and now you've got phantom scars

[henrioo]

Do you write for Rosinante and male reader? If so can you write about Rosinante finding out he likes men because of reader? If you don't you can just make it about your fav! or you can also make it gender neutral :)

✦ ── I'm not in love!: Donquixote Rosinante

Relationships: Rosi x Gn! Reader, Child! Law x Platonic! Rosi/Reader

Synopsis: It's clear that Rosi cares about you, after all you are friends! Just friends, right?

Warnings: None, just fights between Law and Cora and Cora jealous

Word Count: 2,2k

Notes: I made it gender neutral because I only write for them, I hope you don't mind, sorry for the delay! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. If you can evaluate this style of design I'd appreciate it, I'm doing some tests :)

Revision: @waitingmydemons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Rosi liked the cloudy, frosty mornings which were rare in Dressrosa, usually the tropical weather was warm enough to make you sweat even before sunrise. So having a change of weather after the rainy season was somewhat comforting, the place didn't exactly turn gray or dreary, it just got a little cooler and quieter. It seemed that the heat took with it the excitement of the island's civilians.

The point is, the man didn't exactly have a low immunity or anything like that, he dressed well and not even a drastic change could make him get the flu. Maybe it was the years of Marine training or the resistance created by the instinct to survive, it didn't really matter, the point was that he wouldn't get the flu. Why does it matter? See well...

Rosi was at that moment, it being too early for any of the children to be awake, carrying a dark brown fuzzy coat through the halls that he had bought in a store a few days ago when he realized that the weather was going to change. Next to that was a steaming mug of coffee, he walked calmly and silently through the palace corridors. If man didn't get sick, then who would these essential items be for in a change of climate? Oh yes... The answer can only be one: you.

You weren't fragile, far from it, but you weren't good with drastic weather changes. So when the blond man woke up and saw that the weather had changed he immediately thought of you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to grab a coat and a hot drink just to ensure your health, would it? He sighed as he looked out a window, his head light as countless thoughts raced through it. He hadn't even realized that he had stopped in front of your castle room, should he knock? Turn around and pretend nothing happened?

"You're doing it again" a small sleepy and all too familiar voice snapped him out of his cloud of thought. It was none other than little Law.

Cora looked confused at the boy without understanding what he was suggesting, the boy just sighed and shook his head in denial.

"You're taking too much care of (y / n)-san" he said with a certain harshness, in another situation Cora would joke that the boy was jealous, but at that moment he just wanted to understand what Law was assuming. "You still don't understand? You're too stupid" the boy said and crossed his arms.

If they were alone Cora could pretend to be hurt, but he couldn't risk that in the castle, so he just punched the boy in the head, as a light punishment.

"Ouch!" He caressed the bruised spot "You don't understand and I get it… Idiot" he whispered the last part "You really didn't notice?" Now Law seemed to be more willing to explain his thesis.

With Rosi's denial, the boy sighed again and then began to speak "Didn't you realize that your first thought of the day was to take care of them? You even bought this coat just for them! The first thing you did when you woke up was come here to deliver that!" He said louder with some anger.

Cora just shrugged, what was the problem with that? You were crewmates and lifemates, he should care about you, shouldn't he? Law seemed to get even more frustrated with the adult's cluelessness, so he snorted and spoke again.

"Didn't you realize you don't care that much about anyone else?" Now Rosi seemed to finally understand what he was implying, his cheeks flushed slightly "Seriously, everyone has already realized that you're in love with them… Well, everyone but you" he said with an evil smile.

Cora's eyes widened at the accusation, he wasn't in love with you! He just cared a lot, after all you lived together, it was the least he could do to have a good relationship with you! Not that he didn't find you very attractive and definitely a perfect match for a relationship, but that didn't mean anything! You were just friends!

"You're kind of pathetic…" Law sighed "At least do something about it, watching you walk after them like a stray puppy is depressing…" the boy said, yawned and then left for the corridors leaving the adult alone in his thoughts .

You were just friends, weren't you? Thoughts seemed confused and distorted… It wasn't like you acted any differently, of course, you usually spent hours talking, went on missions together, took care of the kids, sat next to each other at meals, you used to bandage Rosi, you were always exchanging gifts… But all friends did that, didn't they?

"Cora?" The adult jumped up and almost dropped his coffee mug on the floor when he heard your voice, then he turned around in a start and found you standing in the doorway of your room.

He tried to smile awkwardly, which elicited a low chuckle from you. But soon the smile disappeared from his face when he saw how you were dressed. You wore a long-sleeved shirt and not You were stiff and fuzzy pants, your hair was messy, and you had a sleepy smile and tired eyes. Your cheeks were a little red next to your nose, which confirmed Rosi's theory that you suffered from climate change.

The issue wasn't exactly how you looked, as to the man you would look beautiful even covered in blood, but what your looks were doing to him. His heart started to beat faster, he felt a heat rising in his stomach and his stomach lurched all over. You were so beautiful, so natural and so… he didn't even know what adjectives to use, homemade? Casual? Comfortable? Would you look so attractive next to him when the two of you wake up together on a cold morning? No! What kind of thoughts were those!?

"All good?" You asked upon seeing the man change, he then snapped out of his thoughts again and turned his attention to you.

He quickly agreed and then handed things over to you with some haste. You stared at the coat and coffee mug with some confusion.

"For me?" You had a shy smile. Cora nodded and saw you looking at the outfit with so much… love? His heart missed a beat, why did you look at that as if it were the most important thing in your life? "Thanks Cora… You always know what I need" you smiled at him and he swore he could be dead after all he was already seeing the sky "I promise I'll use it… And thanks for the coffee" with a low chuckle you closed the door and walked back to hide in the walls of your room.

The man took a deep breath when he realized he hadn't done that for so long, so he left the front of your room as quickly as possible. What was it? Why did he feel so confused and so sensitive around you? This... These feelings... Friends shouldn't feel this way, should they?

Breakfast was as lavish as ever, after all they were serving the king himself and his family, it made sense that the staff would want to go the extra mile. Rosi wasn't the type to eat a lot in the morning, he usually just drank his tea or coffee and waited until lunch to really have a decent meal. So he usually spent his time watching the children play with their food, listening to his brother's conversations with the other elders, and that was it. Usually he was good at maintaining the facade he'd built for years, the unbreakable, unshakable wall he liked to be known as.

But everything he had meticulously planned and created went down the drain when you walked into the dining hall. You wore the coat he had given you earlier and you were definitely looking perfect, you wore a cap that contrasted well with your hair color. You had red cheeks and your nose twitched slightly, you smiled and then greeted everyone. If he had to say something he would probably stutter and get lost, but the only action he could take was to spit out all the coffee when he was punched in the stomach by Law.

Everyone started laughing as he glared at the boy with a death glare, he also glared at him and then leaned closer to whisper.

"At least take it discreetly, idiot"

He bit his tongue at the thought that he might be acting suspiciously, wondering if anyone else had noticed that… You sat down next to Baby 5 and were playing with the little girl as you started to drink your own coffee. Cora decided that if he wanted to keep it natural he couldn't pay any more attention to you, so for the rest of the coffee he looked away and pretended he didn't even notice you at the table.

"Honestly, just ask them on a date" was the last thing Law said when everyone broke up at the end of breakfast.

A date? Like couples? But you weren't a couple… the thoughts hammered in his mind, he liked you a lot, but did he like you too much? With an expression of confusion he decided to go after you to find out if you had noticed anything different in your relationship. After all, you were extremely intelligent, maybe you understood the adult better than he did.

"Hm…thanks" He heard your nervous laugh and looked for you a little faster.

That's when he saw you and Trebol talking, his face was nervous and probably disgusted. The man was throwing himself at you and seemed to have a flirtatious tone. Cora's stomach lurched and he felt fire coursing through his veins, he didn't need to hear another word to act.

Quickly he grabbed your arm, you screamed in fright and stared at him confused. That's when he finally realized what he was doing, what right did he have to do this?

"Is everything okay cora?" You asked him with some trepidation.

Well, he had come this far, hadn't he? So taking his last dose of courage he simply grabbed you by the waist, threw it over his shoulder and ran. Trebol screamed in confusion demanding an answer and you screamed in fright as you clung to the man to keep from falling. Rosi's face burned with embarrassment and he just thought that you would never forgive him for acting like that.

When you were far away, in a hidden part of the castle's gardens, he finally put you down. Your hair was messed up and your cap had fallen out of the way, you were out of breath and you were staring at him with a mixture of anger, confusion and…gratitude?

"Cora! What the hell?!" You screamed and gave him a light slap on the chest, after which he started to take a deep breath trying to calm down.

Cora fidgeted with his hands nervously, how could he explain that whole situation? He didn't even know what was going on!

"Hey! Tell me!" You pressed him against the wall, he looked around nervously not wanting to explain "Come on, we're alone and you can talk now"

Sometimes he forgot that you knew about that detail. On a mission you decided to go with Cora and Law, in your case you wanted to do service to Doflamingo because you were part of his crew. Cora was already using the mission as an excuse to look for hospitals for Law, in the end you two ended up getting into a big mess that led Rosi to reveal that he could talk.

You even tried to find out why he hides it, he said he just got too nervous around other people. He wasn't an idiot either, you were loyal to Doflamingo for saving you and Rosi really didn't want to risk the bond you created by talking about his plan to take down his brother. So he just pretended he was too shy to speak in public.

"I… I didn't want to" he said nervously, he couldn't meet her eyes.

"Didn't want to do what? Kidnap me in the middle of a conversation?" You always teased him and now it just made him sink into a ball.

"Sorry," he muttered guiltily.

"Not really, Trebol is a pain in the ass" you laughed, you weren't mad at Cora, just confused "But that was… different I guess" you mused.

"Different?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, you've been different today, the way you look at me… If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a jealous fit with Trebol" you said smiling slyly at him, what you didn't expect was to see him cringing in embarrassment "Wait, I was kidding, are you jealous?"

"I… I don't like you talking to him" that wasn't a lie at all.

"Oh" you seemed to finally understand everything and smiled trying to reassure him "So I guess Law was right, you really are in love with me…"

"Yes, he probably is… What?!" He screamed in shock, had Law said that?

"Haha ha!" You burst out laughing "you should have seen your face… you are so cute" you admitted with red cheeks.

"(Y/n)..." He called you and you looked at him shyly.

"Yes?"

"Go out on a date with me, I like you" he finally managed to verbalize everything he felt.

"Took you long enough" you smiled at him.

[qqueenofhades]

Finished s1/started s2 of WOT, thoughts as follows:

1x08 truly was just the LOTR Lite Power Hour, including Helm's Deep

I will say that the bit at the start, where they reveal that 3000 years ago was an advanced sci-fi society, was the most interesting and original plot thing they've done so far

2x01 did feel more interesting and better paced overall; I am hopeful it will indeed be better than s1, which was fun but really nothing particularly special

I am aware that they get together in the book, but I'm still getting nothing from Lan/Nynaeve? They looked at each other meaningfully a few times in s1, they were then in love, or something

Zzzzzzz

Lololololololol poor Lan, tried to be emotionally available and have a nice dinner and then immediately nearly died

GODDAMN IT GOTTA RUN OUT AND FIGHT SOME RINGWRAITHS BECAUSE MOIRAINE DONE DID SOMETHING DUMB AGAIN

I don't ship him and Moiraine exactly (because I like them being platonic lifemates and also I obviously like Moiraine with Sophie Okonedo's character) but I also don't NOT ship them, it's confusing

Rand now has the Buzzcut of Angst, he can talk to Flint in Black Sails s3 to find out how that usually goes

Hint: it's usually Not Good

Me at the end of s1: yeah there's 14 more books in this series, that was definitely not the Last Battle

And indeed, Dark One Guy is back, we suspect this likewise won't go well

I am excited for the arrival of my Hot Evil Eyeliner Wife

[sunsetcarnation264]

Queerplatonic Wenclair headcanons

-Enid’s feelings towards Wednesday are romantic (pan Enid) while Wednesday’s feelings towards Enid are queerplatonic (gray-a Wednesday) -Wednesday’s pet name for Enid is ‘my (were)wolf’, whether it’s in English or not. Enid’s pet name for Wednesday is ‘my black raven’ -Their love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch (mainly on Enid’s end), and flower language (mostly on Wednesday’s end) -With affection, they hold hands and Enid gives Wednesday kisses. Mainly cheek, forehead, and nose kisses though, Wednesday’s uncomfortable with lip kisses -Wednesday’s a tad possessive with Enid, as well as quite overprotective. Hurt her or make her upset, you’re gonna be fucked over. Try to take her from her, Wednesday will give you death glares -Neither were too sure what terms they wanted to go with at first ((platonic) girlfriends, lifemate, etc.) but they eventually decided on partners and using each other’s pet names when referring to each other -Enid will sometimes lay her head on Wednesday’s lap. If Wednesday’s able to, she’ll pet her head like one would pet a dog

[lazyneonrabbitt]

For someone asexual, Daryl is so damn shippable.

Carol? Yes obviously, even without an official label of couple, platonic lifemates idc. It all works.

Connie? Hell, watch them come back to Commonwealth and her going "ok I missed u too much, u wanna give dating a try?"

Hell, even if Aaron would ask him to coparent the Grimes' kids and Gracy I wouldn't be mad.

[primoresplendens]

Aslan and Hippolyta are just. platonic lifemates goals yo they simply care about each other too much. they're simply too important to each other to be anything but purely, unsulliedly, intensely platonic 😌😌

[kanadabiscuits]

Five platonic pairings you enjoy?

I got this last night, but I was a bit of a zombie, so I put off answering for this evening. I love this question and I think my favourite platonic pairings are the ones where a less creative or lazier writer might have made them a couple but instead they are so much more interesting than a romantic pairing. So, in no particular order:

Hawkeye and BJ (MASH). These two met just as the show was finding its balance between humour and heart and their friendship was something that even 9-10 year-old me treasured. Two men who were emotionally vulnerable with each other, at once sibling-like and platonic lifemate in a terrible place, they were and are one of my favourite pairings of all time.

Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton. Bless the show for not going where 99% of other shows would have gone. Even if I occasionally rooted for them as a couple, I love more that they perhaps could have... but their love for each other was of a different kind. Two souls who needed one another desperately so that they could rise above their mistakes and trauma to be happy, healthy, and loved.

Keeley Jones and Rebecca Welton (Ted Lasso). I have to go with another pairing from this show because they got the non-romantic pairings so right. This friendship was a joy from beginning to end. We all need someone in our lives who will cheer us on, call us out, support us when we strive, and hold us when we collapse.

MCU: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. All of these friendships felt so deep and substantial in a world where you would expect romantic pairings not genuine "I see you, I get you, I've got your back" connections. Most of the MCU romantic pairings were paint by numbers, but these friendships are what had me so emotionally invested in the stories.

And I am going to cheat slightly because I am all in right now with Our Flag Means Death and frankly, every pairing, friendship, strange collaboration that isn't a romantic couple is fabulous.

[feralghxuls]

Mushy May Day 6 - Picnic

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Ifrit/Cumulus (ft. the Ghoulettes/Mountain matepack)

Tags: Crushes, First Dates, Courting Rituals, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Word Count: 1,800

mushy may prompt list put together by @forlorn-crows !!

Some notes on the context of courting in this fic - it's not necessarily romantic. Some mate pairs/groups do choose to court each other before becoming mates, but typically courting is a platonic or casually romantic venture, sometimes within a pack but generally ghouls who choose to court someone will choose someone outside of their pack. Oftentimes, a courting pair will do this for years, switching off who is doing the courting, and while there are some common elements like dates, hunting together, gifts, etc, a courtship is unique to each ghoul. While most ghouls are typically polyamorous, they still can get quite possessive over their mates and/or packmates, and the whole courting thing actually helps to keep the jealousy down and encourage different types of bonds between ghouls that might not necessarily be close otherwise. (For example, in the context of this fic, Stratus and Mountain tend to get possessive over their mates, but they both think it's absolutely adorable that Ifrit is courting Cumulus and help him out, which in turn over time chills them out in regards to the possessiveness.) There are also tons and tons of different types of mate bonds, from romantic lifemates to platonic bestie mates and anything and everything in between. Ghouls are alive for a long time. They have complicated, layered relationships.

Ifrit is nervous. He hasn’t been this full of butterflies and trembling hands and racing heart since his mate ceremony with Swiss. He’s five minutes early. He’s checked and rechecked his outfit dozens of times, smoothing his shirt down and adjusting his bowtie and double checking that his fly is zipped and all his buttons are buttoned properly. He’d spent the better part of the last few hours pacing his room, fretting and getting himself worked up about his date while Swiss laid sprawled out on his bed, occasionally popping up to talk him down with reason and logic and the fact that he knows Cumulus well enough to know she wouldn’t have said yes to this if she didn’t want to. It had been a repeating cycle, until it was finally time to pick her up and Swiss had gently booted him out the door with a kiss to his temple and a friendly swat to his ass. 

So now here he stands outside Cumulus’s door, bouquet of flowers in hand – all her favorites, according to Mountain, because of course Ifrit had asked her mates before courting her, and Mountain had enthusiastically offered the information. Well, as enthusiastic as he gets, anyway. – and pretty sure he’s going to choke on his own heart with the way it’s pounding in his throat. Ifrit takes a deep breath and raises a hand, knocking firmly on the wood and taking a polite step back. He hides the bouquet behind his back, thinking it would be nice to surprise her with it, but then he realizes it’s too big to fully hide and it would be better to just have them in front of him in the first place when she opens the door. But mostly he’s just overthinking everything and he can’t keep still, shifting his weight from foot to foot while he listens for movement in the room.

The door swings open just as he’s positioning the flowers in front of his chest again for the third time, but it’s not Cumulus. Cirrus stands in the doorway, her face lighting up with a soft little smile as she settles her weight on one hip, her hand following a second later as she looks him up and down. 

“Hi, Cirrus,” Ifrit says shyly, aloud in ghoulish because he doesn’t know her well enough to reach for a mental link and English feels too formal. But maybe he should have–

Read the rest on Ao3 or under the cut!

“Hello, Ifrit. You look very nice,” Cirrus interrupts him, her smile broadening a little. He perks up, chest swelling a little, relatively certain that he passed the Cirrus test. She glances over her shoulder at the sound of movement in the room, casting a final coy glance at Ifrit as she steps back. Cumulus appears in her place, clad in an airy sundress reaching down to just above her knees, light shades of green shot through with baby blue and a splash of yellow in a subtle floral pattern, a subtle contrast to her pretty pewter grey skin. The neckline cuts across her chest to her shoulders, leaving the tops of them bare, showing off the darker skin at the points of her shoulders and the smattering of white-silver freckles there. The fabric billows from there to her elbows and falls in a couple of flowing layers over her chest, which looks really nice in this dress – Ifrit snaps his eyes up to her face, cheeks heating. He hadn’t meant to be staring at her tits– her chest, he swears. 

“Um, holy shit…You look incredible, Cumulus,” he mumbles, taking in the slight flush to her cheeks, the broad, almost shy smile plumping the apples of her cheeks, the way the corners of her eyes crinkle as her gaze drops down to the flowers in his hands, a question in the slight tilt of her head towards them. “For you,” he manages, thrusting them towards her while his tail flicks wildly behind him until he manages to get it under control and wrap it tightly around his own thigh. 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, sweetheart,” Cumulus breathes, taking them gently in her hands and inhaling happily, eyes closing and her shoulders rising halfway to her ears with it. She opens her eyes again and Ifrit gets lost in them, lost in the warmth that floods his chest at the way she called him sweetheart, probably grinning like a fool to boot. “Let me give these to Mountain to get them set up in a vase and we can go, okay?” 

Ifrit nods dumbly, watching her disappear back into the room, how her dress twirls as she spins on her heel and floats around her thighs, her tail appearing out from under it and flicking happily. Cirrus is still leaning against the edge of the door, watching Cumulus with a fond little smile, and Ifrit glances at her, bracing for some kind of threat to make sure he treats her mate right. 

He gets one, but it doesn’t come from Cirrus, or even Mountain. It’s dropped right into his head from Stratus, hidden somewhere in the room, probably hiding in her nest in the rafters. 

Fuck this up and I’ll bite your stupid dick off, she hisses, and Ifrit just grins and rolls his eyes a little. He can picture her so clearly, with her ears pinned, teeth bared and tail lashing.

Hi, Stratus! Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her, he replies, flashing a grin towards where her nest is, unbothered; feeling fond, in fact. He knows her well enough to know that she’s not kidding, not even a little bit, but he also knows her well enough to know that she trusts him with Cumulus. He wouldn’t be allowed to be courting her otherwise. 

Cumulus comes back a moment later, hands clasped behind her back and a mischievous glint in her eye as she strides right past Cirrus, only pausing to receive a kiss to her cheek, and steps up to Ifrit. The butterflies in his belly take flight all at once, sending nervous anticipation rocketing through him at having her this close. She flashes a grin at him, her tail sneaking up to curl around his forearm as she offers her elbow to him. He smiles back at her and slips his arm through hers, hardly hearing Cirrus calling out behind them to have a nice time, too busy being giddy about the fact that he’s on a date with Cumulus.

Ifrit tries to set off with Cumulus, but she stops him before he can make it more than two steps with a tug to his elbow, and he turns, a questioning chirp spilling from his lips as she brings her hands out from behind her back with a cute little smile. In her palm is a daisy from the bouquet, and she reaches up to the button on his shirt just below his bowtie, threading the stem through until the flower sits flush against his chest. Affection swells in Ifrit’s ribcage, so full and complete that he thinks it might explode right out of him, and when he opens his mouth to say how sweet he thinks this is, all that comes out is a series of happy clicks and chirps. Cumulus laughs and chirps right back, two of the prettiest sounds Ifrit has ever heard in his life. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, his voice soft and reverent. She gazes up at him, her expression warm and adoring and he’s reeling, absolutely lost in the way she looks at him, and then she stretches up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. All he can do is stare dumbly, certain he’s never been this flustered in his entire life and she’s still smiling up at him, steady and bright. She gives another soft little laugh and hooks her arm through his again, leaning into him and tugging him to start walking in the direction he’d started off in originally.

“So what do you have planned for me today?” she asks, her tail finding his behind them and twining them together as they fall into step. 

Ifrit’s brain short-circuits for a second before he manages to find his words again. He has a feeling that’s going to be happening a lot until he gets his bearings on this whole situation, that he’s somehow gone from gazing longingly from a distance and hanging on every glimpse he could steal, feeding the jittery feeling in his chest – to actually courting her. 

“I thought we could go for a walk in the garden,” he says, glancing down at her for her approval. She tips her face up towards his, looking deeply pleased and letting out a happy little trill. The top of her head barely reaches his shoulder, yet somehow she still makes him feel small and incredibly awestruck. 

“That sounds wonderful.”

Conversation comes easily as they stroll through the abbey. It takes a few minutes before Ifrit remembers how to speak without stumbling over his words, and once he does, he finds that Cumulus is incredibly easy to talk to. From random, inconsequential things like their opinions on the current meal rotation to more significant topics like recounting their mate ceremonies. It’s comfortable and familiar, like reuniting with an old friend you haven’t seen in years, except this is the first time he’s spent extended time speaking with Cumulus.

They're talking and laughing the whole way, occasionally lapsing into amicable silence and exchanging giddy grins. All too soon, they’ve made it through the abbey, through most of the winding paths in the gardens, turning the corner to a small clearing where a blanket spreads across the grass, a wicker basket and a bottle of wine sitting quietly in the middle of it. Cumulus looks at it, and looks at him, her eyes lit up bright and delighted. 

“Oh, Ifrit, this is perfect,” she says, taking his hand in hers to thread their fingers together and squeeze tight. Ifrit just beams back at her, delighted that she likes it so much, and tugs her towards the blanket, excited to show her everything he’d put together. With the help of her packmates, he’d gathered as many of her favorite finger foods as he could snatch from the kitchen, and in the bottom of the basket is a small, old cassette player, a pair of corded earbuds wrapped around it and already loaded with a tape that Mountain and Stratus had helped him make. The way she smiles at him as she settles down beside him on the blanket is far beyond anything he’d imagined, and the doubt and worry that had niggled at the back of his mind ever since Swiss had dragged him to her door seems ridiculous now.