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#but like platonically

flamintyy · 1 month

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as we dance to the masochism tango ~

vox is probably fine, dw :)

also, little bonus, lmao

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor fanart #hazbin alastor #hazbin art #alastor #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor #vox fanart #radiosilence #but like platonically

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jellyblast · 5 months

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I'm so excited to see their relationship

#hazbin hotel #chalastor #but like platonically #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #alastor #🛎🔥

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aggressivedaikons · 4 days

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Optimus Prime (TFP) Matrix HC: Even though the Matrix of Leadership does allow him to be much wiser and have a lore more insight, due to the combined wisdom of the original thirteen Primes being contained within, it also is somewhat of a burden for him mentally.

Due to the fact it does possess so much knowledge and wisdom, it surely has so know just as much about the terrible and gut-wrenching things as anything else. So I think that Optimus would sometimes have dissociative flashbacks to events he never was present for, or have overwhelming intrusive thoughts about violence. Not in the “what if I hurt somthing” (the traditional type) but more of a “here’s an extremely graphic and nauseating thought you won’t be able to escape”.

He sometimes has episodes where he just goes completely silent, and nobody but Ratchet knows. It’s something he keeps secret so the others don’t worry about him, but sometimes he has to go on recon or other things during these episodes, and he goes nonverbal. The rest of Team Prime just wave it off as him being angsty and moody, but Ratchet tries his best to give Optimus space and to lighten his load.

He usually gets hazy visions of different awful scenes, sometimes real, sometimes a memory from the era of the primes, sometimes a graphic hypothetical. But he can’t really fight it, and any time he tries not to think of it, his mind just leads him back to these uncomfortable and unwanted thoughts.

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humblenarcissist97 · 6 months

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Y’all ever like “I wanna smooch them so bad” but in a completely platonic friendship way, like you wanna kiss them with all your heart and soul but in a non-romantic way

#i love my friends #relatable #is this relatable #i guess we’ll find out #cuddles just aren’t enough. I need to kiss the soul out of my friends in a very platonic way #cuddles aren’t enough. I need to kiss my friends till I can’t breath and I’m on the floor in the family guy death pose #but like platonically

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horseshoemybeloved · 9 months

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I took too strong of a cbd gummy and drew abstract platonic Pete Patrick art 💔💔💔 fucked up and evil and fucked up and evil and fire and flames and torment and explosions and screaming and crying and pissing and kaboom bang bang aaaaa

#you people don’t understand they’re platonic solemates they’re meant for eachother #they WUV eachother #but like platonically #fall out boy #fob #art #my art #fall out boy fan art #patrick stump #pete wentz

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basicsunnyy · 3 months

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Posting this before I go to school

#digital drawing #fanart #hazbin hotel #i love him sm seriously #but like platonically #vox fanart #hazbin hotel fanart

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kbhachimitsu · 2 months

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Meet Anne, the ballad troll from the fic I'm cookin/ Branch's unofficially officially older sister

#trolls #trolls oc #trolls fanfiction #fanfic #trolls branch #oc x canon #but like platonically #found siblings #gray branch #she's a mess but love her for that #dreamworks trolls #branch trolls #trolls 3

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gemsofthegalaxy · 2 years

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okay but Rue and Binx have the most iconic friendship now. Like, what a story!

there was intrigue and drama from the very start, from Rue chewing Binx out, to Binx extending a token of friendship only for it to be a cursed object, and then her realizing Rue is actually cool so she's gotta pull them into hedge cage only to reveal her true identity because she was inspired by Rue and- also be like "ummm by the way that thing I gave you was cursed" and Rue is momentarily outraged but then trusts her anyway??

like imagine in 10 fey years them looking back on just their beginnings and all of the other shit they would have done since then. a truly beautiful friendship has blossomed at this bloom

#acofaf #acofaf spoilers #a court of fey and flowers #ruebinx #but like platonically

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a-sunset-outside-my-window · 2 months

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fic rec friday

'The Horcrux Hunt' by Keysie on ao3

He is a Slytherin, a Black, and an ex-Death Eater. Of course he makes it out of the cave.

Regulus sets out to destroy the Dark Lord's Horcrux with no one but a house-elf to help, until he realises his task is bigger than he alone can handle. Reluctantly he turns to the only man Voldemort fears for assistance - Dumbledore - who loans out his pet wolf for the job, much to Regulus's dismay. Together they embark on a hunt for Horcruxes - a long and arduous journey that both makes friendships and destroys them. And a few people get hurt along the way.

Slowburn Wolfstar, Regulus character development, a very flirty (but platonic) Regulus and Remus friendship, and a canonically manipulative Dumbledore.

Yeay, I'm back to recommending fics that are more in the regular scope of what I read and this one is the fic that actually got me back into the fandom after a long break, wich already makes it one of my favourites!

fovourite tropes included in this one are:

not drowned regulus black

enemies to friends

friends to lovers

(these two points are not related... or are they?)

platonic moonwater

so much fun

(somewhat) healthy comunication

amazing writing

I will also say that this fic has a sequel (both fics can be read as standalones but work great together(maybe some animagus tomfoolery in the sequel?))

as always leave lots of love and kudos to the author and have a great rest of the week <3

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vroom-vrooms · 9 months

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Make your bets, it’s for science

They give off best friends who get married in Vegas cause they are very drunk and thought it would be funny vibes

#come on now #besties who marry each other in Vegas are besties for life #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #maxiel #but like platonically #polls #HAD TO MAKE IT AGAIN CAUSE IM STUPID

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sukea69 · 10 months

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OBSESSED w hashirama and madara, not romantically attached, going on dates and doing coupley shit all the time. Holding hands in public. Constantly cuddling. Feeding each other food. Sharing a bed. They're BEST FRIENDS

#Madara #Hashirama #Hashimada #But like platonically

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thefangirlofhp · 2 years

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20. friend in me

To find a friend in the least likely of people surprised not only the world, but him mostly.

She’s as mean as he is, as feared as he is, doubted and scorned as he is, and loved in the same doomed way he is treated; held at arm’s length, like one would be around a fire for fear of its flames. And yet to find a silent companion who speaks the same silence as one does is probably one of the finer things in life to be had.

Where he does not have to excuse himself, and she needn’t bare her fangs. One where understanding is a sign of respect. Straightforward and simple. Little ramifications to be had from being around a person who cares for him, if but a little.

Nesta’s cleverness places her at odds with the intelligent Rhysand, too similar with each other to allow friendship a chance to breed in this battlefield, and her aloofness does not deter a determined Cassian. But with Azriel, who is of the opinion that he cannot judge those around him, she finds that it’s easy to exist in the space around him, to be allowed a reprieve from too much to enjoy and experience the world. Be it reading in silence, admiring the sunset, or sharing a meal.

Now, she wonders a little how she got to be clutching his arm as they make their way to a musical concert at the amphitheater as the sun makes its descent. She’s been wanting to go ever since she learned of it from Gwyn, and she cannot in good health put Cassian through four consecutive hours of instrumental music and a play—she realizes it’s a spell for disaster for those around them, and Cassian himself.

So Azriel was the companion that came to mind. In part because she didn’t want to go alone, but mostly because he’d been so down in the slumps recently that she seized the chance to cheer him up in anyway she could.

(It’s a confident statement to make regarding the notoriously unreadable male, what with his ‘sadness’ being prolonged stifling silence and an avoidance of anyone’s company, staying locked up in his room and avoiding dinner—in other words, his standard behavior. But Nesta knows better. The look in his eyes is soul-crushing, if only because she thinks that he think he deserves his sadness and she fears that with time, he’ll grow used to it. The world deserves to frequently see what a happy Azriel does to life. He knocked the breath from Nesta’s chest one very late night, in the kitchen of The House while he and Cassian battled through cookie recipes.

The pair of them, covered in sugar dust and flour caking their fronts, Cassian’s tied hair streaked with white while egg yolk stuck to Azriel’s fingers and his laughter was deafening. Fighting Cassian for the spatula, doubling over with laughter, his eyes scrunched close while he giggled relentlessly and Cassian roared with laughter. How many batches had they messed up and tried? She lost count, remembers only that her teeth ached from too many sugar and too many failed cookies as she sat at the table and tasted their produce. Some too salty, too sweet, either overcooked or undercooked. Too little flour. Too many. Dry specimens. Watery specimens. She saw it all.

“He looks so young when he’s happy,” she whispered to Cassian as dawn approached and they finally called it quits and went to bed. His large fingers rubbed her skin, pressing individual kisses to her fingers.

A small smile lifted her mate’s lips. “I wish he would be more frequently.”

“What do you think is the matter?”

A little chuckle rumbled from the chest she rested sleepily against.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing, just thinking about how meddling you get when it’s someone you care about.”

“I don’t meddle.”

“It’s not an insult, Nes. Rhys says Feyre is too. Think it’s in your blood, the need to fix wrongs in the world.”

“So what’s Azriel’s problem?”

“Oh that’s a long story,” Cassian tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Chronic sadness. I don’t think he can get rid of it, he got it from his childhood. I learned that all I can do is just help him through it when it gets hard. There’s no cure for it.”

“Oh,” her voice went small. “I thought it was a recent thing.”

Cassian’s voice peaked with curiosity. “Why would you think that? Az has Chronic Devastation printed on his face.”

“No reason,” she mumbled, thinking about his secret, and how she promised herself to keep it.)

“This better be good,” Azriel mutters as they have their tickets punched in.

“Please, as if you had anything better to do,” she snaps back as they make their way inside. “If we see anyone we know, lets pretend not to see them.”

“That’s my favorite thing to do,” he quips with a smile before sweeping them towards the stairs to find their seats in the stands swarming with people. “Second to glaring at people.”

“I must amend my statement. Let’s scare them away.”

“Deal.”

They sit while people find their seats in a loud hushed ambience of murmurs and low conversations. She rests her cheek in her palm as her eyes sweep the rows around and before them, as Azriel reads the program they were offered.

“Dance of Spring’s good,” he pipes up. She leans towards him to take a look. “But Colloquial Love is best.”

“Where did you—?”

He glances at her with lowered lids and a little smirk.

“Oh you little shit. Using your position to have early access to art is corruption.”

“Hey,” he pushes back his shoulders. “I know filth on everyone in the city. Being privy to their art far trumps their inner thoughts. I’ve particularly followed Dance of Spring’s development, and trust me, it has so much potential but the composer is too afraid to try.”

She shakes her head. “You really are the most devious bastard in this city.”

“Hey.”

“Too much time on your hands,” Nesta says.

“Can’t disagree, really.”

“You need a hobby,” she muses before carefully adding: “Or someone to love.”

There. Bullseye. The air around him seems to deflate as his eyes dim and his lips loose their humored shape. His thumb idly traces a trail on the paper in his hands, before his eyes gleam, then he blinks and it disappears. He breathes in heavily.

“No thank you,” he responds, voice faking it’s casualness. “I’ve seen enough idiots blinded by it. I’d rather keep my senses.”

“Would you, though?”

“I never thought I’d discuss romance with you of all people. Not even my mother dares breech the subject with me.”

“Azriel.”

He meets her gaze.

“Why are you more comfortable with your loneliness?”

His face tightens.

“Force of habit,” he lies, tightly.

“No it’s not,” she gently treads. “Why do you keep every potential person at arm’s length?”

He lowers his gaze. “I suppose I’ve grown used to the treatment, it’s the only way I know how.”

“Azriel,” she lays a hand on his arm. “You know that’s not true of all people.”

He remains silent.

“I’m positive if you took a step, just one, things would work out in your favor.”

“I can’t,” he whispers, finally.

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “It’s not that hard.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists, looking up, and promptly freezing as his eyes catch onto something over her shoulder. Before turning around, Nesta figures she knows what it is—or, rather, who.

Elain’s soft laugh and quiet voice with the staff is a unique sound, and for a starving man who’d take whatever he can get, it’s no surprise to her that he catches onto it immediately.

She’s alone as she takes a seat two rows down. Nesta’s mental calculations barely begin before Azriel squeezes her knee sharply, a warning look in his gaze flaming as fierce as fire.

Nesta sinks into her seat. Azriel remains tense next to her throughout the entire performance, and she swears that he’s never so much as even glanced once at the musicians that play for four hours.

During the break, he mutters something unintelligible before rushing out of the theater. Nesta considers catching Elain’s attention for a second before deciding against it and following him outside for refreshments.

Her plotting is trumped and needless, as it turns out, when the concert reaches its conclusion and Azriel is pulling them out as if it’s a race who can leave the faster. Nesta purposefully slows them down by striking up conversations with whoever she recognizes, and gushes to the musicians about what a brilliant performance that was, she was absolutely mesmerized thank you very much, while Azriel stands uncomfortably next to her.

Until they run into Elain outside the theater. Metaphorically. She sees them some ten feet away and Azriel goes rigid as stone and it’s a tense, unbearable charging sensation between them that Nesta can almost feel. So when Elain gives her a meek wave, Nesta raises her arm and enthusiastically waves with the widest grin she can conjure as she drags Azriel towards her sister.

“Elain!” She gushes. “I had no idea you’d be here!”

Her sister smiles, nervously rubbing her elbow. She stands in a simple pink gown, the tulle making her look gentler and softer than ever, softens her tone and her eyes. A literal ball of cotton, Nesta gets the urge to shelter her the way a curled up kitten is to be protected.

“Oh, I heard about it from a friend. She couldn’t come, sadly.”

“I’d have asked you along if I knew,” Nesta remarks. “Pretty sure you’d have been better company than this one here.”

Elain politely turns her gaze to Azriel. “Do you enjoy musical concerts?”

He gives a single curt nod, his eyes rapt and unblinking.

Hopeless.

“What was your favorite part?” Nesta asks her sister.

“Oh, Dance of Spring, I have to say—“

“It’s mine as well.”

Elain blinks in surprise at the interruption. Then she smiles, softly. Nesta bites her cheek tightly.

“Anyway, I’ll get going. I told Feyre I won’t be out late, I promised I’d look after Nyx tonight.”

“Why, where’s Shithead?”

Elain gives her a scolding look. “Rhys is in Day for the night. Helion’s teaching him something.”

“How to be a better piece of shit?”

“Nes,” Elain admonishes gently. “He’s our host and brother-by-law.”

“She’s right, though,” Azriel pipes up, rushing through the words as if he’s racing them. “Rhys is a little shit.”

Surprise coats Elain’s lovely face. “I… Well.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Azriel abruptly announces.

“Oh that won’t be necessary..”

“I insist,” he steps up.

“Yes I can climb one-thousand steps at midnight, thanks for asking,” Nesta sighs. “I’ll just wake up Cassian and ask him for a lift, shall I?”

But she’s ignored, as her sister is offered a tentative but steady elbow and Elain loops her arm through Azriel’s arm the way the pair had long ago walked into the townhouse gardens like a lady escorted by her knight. Nesta watches them walk away, wondering what about her sister forces them all to be gentler kinder versions of themselves, and hopes that she’ll force Azriel to be a happier version of himself as well.

#nesta archeron #azriel #nesta and azriel #nezriel #??#but like platonically #acotar

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