#see - the thing is they both had crimes about 'protecting themself' but both would deny it was for that reason

[good-beanswrites]

hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭

Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!

Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”

After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.

“It’ll be fun!”

He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”

“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.” 

Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.

“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”

Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on… 

“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”

 “No. There was no time for games in the house.” 

“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.

He readied a game of solitaire. 

“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”

“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!” 

She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”

“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”

She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it. 

“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.

“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more. 

“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”

Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…” 

Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”

“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile. 

She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Tch, tell that to the warden.”

His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Eh? What’s that face for?”

“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”

“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #amane momose #see - the thing is they both had crimes about 'protecting themself' but both would deny it was for that reason #they both seem to have some family trauma but would never admit it #theyre both used to putting on their best behavior and being 'good' for others but hardly realize that themselves #they are both in denial all the time !!!!! #so i tried to show them getting along for their own perceived reasons -- mikoto thinks he likes her because she reminds him of his sister #and amane thinks she likes him because hes being kind about their verdicts #and while both are right theyre Also drawn to each other because they are very similar at their core #and both have skills with reading people/picking up on cues making it tough to lie to one another #that forced honesty makes for a solid friendship haha! #i also remember a comment from yamanaka that amane would be the worst at card games because shed have trouble with the rules #she seems old enough to handle complex games but she probably never got to play a lot at home ;---; and mikoto probably learns a lot of #types of games (and tarot) so can connect with even more people #i thought long and hard on whether mikoto would let someone else win but he doesnt seem the type (plus amane would notice) #once again i know amane starts speaking in the plural but this comes a bit before that #yaay thank you so much for the request! this was really fun to do - i hope you enjoy! #ive thought a lot about amane and john but less on her and mikoto lol so this was nice :D #drabbles

[bitch-in-a-bag]

can we talk about how the LGBT movement has changed in the past 15 years?

in the light of the events surrounding Chris chan, and people prioritizing pronouns over the rape of a woman with dementia, I think it displays just how... different things are.

i personally feel like it's been co-opted by the more loud and entitled mtfs/ males/penis-havers/whatever pc term exists for the XY chromosome'd, who go too far and aren't reasonably kept in check. I think terf no longer has meaning anymore because it's just become a word we use to silence anyone that disagrees with a trans woman. immediately you're going to call me a terf, I accept that, but please continue reading. I may suprise you. calling someone who's transgender a terf is kinda messed up anyway, and that's exactly why im writing this.

I also think that everyone else (allies, ftms, etc) have followed suit because they've written this messed up narrative that EvErYoNe iS VaLiD. except for trans penis-havers, bc they're the most oppressed and the most valid, actually, regardless of their experiences.

I never used to believe the above because it was always written off as terf shit, and ignoring it kinda benefitted me, but between seeing ftms getting bashed for refusing to follow new "TME" rules as if they aren't trans too, and seeing outrage around Chris chans pronouns, I think it's time to start saying things that may make people uncomfortable. innocent people are already getting hurt by this, and we need to do better. it's time to get uncomfortable.

I want to remind you that perception is both the relying factor, and also the downfall of newer lgbt theory. if my profile were mtf coded, maybe it currently is, you'd call me a self hating trans and I wouldn't be that big of a deal. terfs would probably target me.

if my profile was ftm coded, I would be absolutely skewered for daring to speak out about these issues, even though they do actually affect ftms disproportionately. terfs would try to convince me that being trans is a plague and a mental illness, and to just ~be a cis woman~!

and if assumed cis, I would 100% be assumed radfem terf, and everything I say would immediately be dismissed because of the genuine damage terfs have done. but terfs would still probably flock to this post and berate me for daring to validate trans people At All, because to them, being transgender is a mental illness akin to an eating disorder, and "giving in" to it is "self harm". clearly I don't believe that, so hopefully you'll give me at least some benefit of the doubt.

so, does my identity matter? i have a feeling you'll say yes, because it gives us a good idea of experiences I do and don't have expertise in, and thus room to talk about. but I refuse to directly identify what I actually am because I want the focus of any resulting conversation to be my message and not my self identification. if you read between the lines and figure it out that's just fine, but I would like to be heard first and foremost.

my profile is thus an attempt at being cis female coded, somewhat out of comfort, and that is likely what I'll be assumed to be due to the beliefs I am expressing, even though there is a substantial risk of getting misgendered and dismissed, no matter what my birth sex may actually be. i will give you a hint about my identity: I am transgender, on HRT and everything, and I have been personally affected by all of this. rest assured, this is well within my lane to speak about, and it does matter if you misgender me.

I want you to really think about that. before you respond, really think about if someone saying words on tumblr, talking about their OWN experiences and their take on recent history that applies to themself, really more worthy of being misgendered and harassed than... someone who said they transitioned so they could date lesbians, and then raped their own mother with dementia.

is that fair or just? or is this just a new way of letting people with penises do whatever they want? I personally think it's the latter. we need to hold people like Chris chan accountable without getting caught up on something as minor **in comparison** as misgendering and self identification. Is it sad and confusing that someone who self IDs as transgender became 1:1 with the most dangerous stereotypes that exist for trans women? Of course it is. But it doesn't mean that self identification is suddenly more important than a literal crime being committed.

I would normally dismiss it as a fluke or outright trolling if the evidence weren't so damning that this is in fact a real event that happened. If I hadn't seen this happen to other people, and if I didn't literally know another mtf person who used their dysphoria as an excuse for date rape on multiple occasions and never got any consequences for it.

It's not a one time thing, it's a developing problem that we need to stop before more people have their lives ruined. I can't even imagine how traumatizing and messed up it is for an FTM person to be date raped, by another transgender person no less. When I, an abuse survivor, told people of this MTFs red flags, people violently silenced me. People who didn't know I was trans called me a terf and transphobic. We, as a community, could've protected someone from getting date raped, and we didn't. Trans women can be awful, horrible fucking people, because they are people. Protecting them at all costs is wrong. Protecting them from transphobia is what we should be doing.

That being said, misgendering is still skeevy, and I haven't done anything like raped a disabled woman who is no longer able to consent, or date raped my own partner. if you give a shit about respecting my identity, please use they/them for me. if not, use visual perception and make assumptions that will most likely be incorrect, skew your own argument, and put me on the same level as a rapist, and arguably a fetishist. And I do need to remind you that calling someone transgender a rapist and a fetishist without evidence is still definitely classic transphobia, to the letter, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that.

as someone who is same sex attracted, I also want to bring this up as well.

in the US in the past 15 years, the movement as a whole pretty much went "YEAH BORN THIS WAY" with Lady Gaga, and then jumped ship to prioritize mostly mtfs at every angle. do mtfs need support? absolutely. but they don't need misguided toxic positivity, and that's what it's turned into.

it's gotten genuinely homophobic to the point where actually homosexual people are constantly being erased and demonized via "genital preferences are a fetish uwu", and vulva havers, especially the trans ones, are constantly being told to shut up about their experiences.

as much as you want to deny bioessentialism, its still very much well and alive with newer trans movement sentiments when we classify ftms as not worthy of speaking about their own issues with terms like "TME". it's also incredibly ignorant towards FTMs who pass, but dress feminine for comfort, and get mistaken for MTF, and treated like garbage because of it. They are not remotely exempt from misogyny, transphobia, or the intersection of the two, and it is not anyone's job to tell them they don't ever experience that when they do. Turning ftms and biological homosexuals into our enemies-- especially when the actual cause is transphobia and harmful gender stereotypes-- does nothing good or healthy for our movement.

Dont be mistaken, though, passing isn't the focus or end all be all here, it's the perception of others that ends up drastically effecting your experiences. There are words like misogyny that imply treatment via birth sex, however this too can be reliant on external perception. If an MTF individual either transitions very young, has an abundance of resources to transition, or just gets lucky and passes well, chances are she will experience a lot more misogyny than people may give credit to. inversely, someone who just started questioning yesterday, but lived as a male their whole life up until then, they genuinely cannot speak about misogyny with that much room because they simply haven't experienced it at an accurate enough angle or for enough time to understand it as a repeated and sociological force.

It works the other way as well, though; someone who's known that they're trans for a long time and haven't had the resources to transition, or do not or cannot pass in the eyes of society; these people suffer pain that we don't neccesarily have a word for yet, imo. It makes dysphoria worse and it makes living seem hopeless. And as a community, we deal with this is in a really messed up way by over-validating them instead of solving the core issue at hand. and people who suffer from this, but also acknowledge they can't claim what they haven't experienced, are left with nowhere to go.

And its important to acknowledge these things because they're integral to the over-encompassing trans experience. Instead of lying to everyone and telling everyone they pass/giving out unconditional positive regard, our focus should be making it so that it **doesn't matter if you pass**. that you're still worth respect and dignity if you're transgender, no matter what passing is or what it means to you, and no matter how you present. But also, if you do something awful, you still need to be held accountable, especially if you use yourself, your body, or your trans status to contribute to other axi of oppression.

Transphobia is a word that encompasses and addresses all of that, regardless of birth sex. "TME" shuts that down in favor of only letting MTF's speak. Which is still very bio-essentialist, and I can't help but feel like we've gone full circle.

Once upon a time you couldn't even get married if your partner had the same genitals as you. in the US, this was less than 7 years ago. and if you care about human rights activism, you know damn well that legal modification is not the end all be all. people who are genuinely homosexual are still oppressed, but the trans movement has started stepping on them to make ground we don't deserve. homosexuals are ok and valid. it's not a genital preference, and the prescence of trans people doesn't make conversion therapy sentiments ok, ever.

we've gone full circle, and it's not right.

#trans rights #homosexuality #human rights #lgbt #lgbt community #trans #tw: rape #transphobia

[askdragonagecompanions]

Henlo? May I request a companions and advisors react to a tranquil inquisitor being their best childhood friend who kinda just disappeared when they were about 10 or 11 (and realizing that it was because they were a mage) (the inquisitor used to be the sweetest, gentlest, cheery-est lil bean and now they're a husk) (it was the most angsty thing I could think of, how do you like it?) Love all your writing, thank you!

[ahhh thank you so much! It really means a lot :D this is a wonderfully heart breaking prompt! I love it!]

Dorian: Though Dorian didn’t like to look back at his past too often there were parts of it that he couldn’t deny were good. One particular memory was of his childhood best friend. The two of them had been as thick as thieves, practicing spells together, staying up in the libraries researching and learning together. His friend was always so sweet and gentle. They always had a smile on their face no matter what. Even when they were sad Dorian could cheer them up with a new book on magic or showing off a new spell he had learned. One day, though, his friend had just disappeared. He didn’t know if it was his father’s doing or theirs but it upset him. He still wondered where they had gone sometimes, well until he met the Inquisitor. Dorian was not one to forget faces even if they had both grown up and matured. He wasn’t going to lie. When he first so them he was horrified. He had heard of the right of Tranquility. It disgusted him. He couldn’t believe that anyone would even think it okay to rip someone from the fade and take away who they were… It made him uneasy. He remembered his friend being so full of life, but now they didn’t even smile. As he learned, Tranquil didn’t really feel emotion anymore. They were able to focus on one task until it was complete, but they were without dreams, without their magic. Every time he saw the Inquisitor he felt so guilty. Was it his fault that they were now tranquil? He didn’t know how it could be but he still felt that it was. Sometimes he would try to talk with them about their past, but the Inquisitor was just so… emotionless. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to get rid of this… tranquility. He wanted his friend back, and so he started a new research project. He’s unaware that Cassandra knows the cure to the Right of Tranquility and when he finds out he’s furious. He feels guilty for not being able to stay by his friend for long but he’s just… so upset. 

Solas: When he was in his dreaming state Solas remembered a particular wandering dreamer who always had a knack for finding him. He knew they weren’t a spirit. In fact they had to have some magical prowess to continue coming to the fade in their dreams. He found it… endearing. Solas took to protecting the child and explaining the difference between spirits and demons. The child was always so cheery. They would talk to spirits in such a gentle tone. They always had so many questions. Though… one day the child just stopped visiting. Solas just assumed that they learned how to control their travels into the fade. For a while he missed their company, but he had other things that needed study and planning. When he met the Inquisitor all those years later he almost lost his composure. He never thought he’d see that child again, but here they were staring at him with that hideous mark on their forehead. He kept himself civil, introducing himself. Inside he was seething. He already felt like he was walking through a world of tranquil and now the one person that should understand his views has been cut off from the fade itself. How could they do this? What crime could ever grant a punishment such as this? Solas cannot stay near the Inquisitor for long. It is too much for him. He will offer them advice if they need it, but all this does is further his belief that he needs to get rid of the veil. 

Vivienne: She remembers her friend fondly. They didn’t really get into trouble per say, but they were an inquisitive pair. Her friend was always interested in the natural studies while Vivienne wanted to know more about the more complex spells and studies. She loved being able to play with her friend, though one day they just left. At the time she was upset, but a few weeks later she too was taken away. Vivienne figured her friend was taken to some circle, or possibly their parents just moved. There was no point now in trying to figure it out. Vivienne never really thought about the possibility of finding her friend again, but when she heard the Inquisitor’s name she couldn’t fight the small bit of excitement in her heart. She invited them to her home, hoping that this wasn’t just a coincidence. When they finally met again Vivienne managed to keep a polite diplomatic smile on her face but her heart sunk. So that was why she hadn’t heard from her friend. Disappointing. There were two possibilities. Either her friend had done something terrible in the circle that made the right of tranquility necessary or they were just not going to pass their harrowing without it. They were still doing good for themself though, Inquisitor, herald of Andraste. Vivienne is used to the Tranquil and despite the twinge of sadness at seeing her friend look so emotionless she still enjoys their company and helps them with whatever their mind gets set to. Tranquil do have amazing focus and once they set their mind on a task they will keep working on it until it is finished. 

Blackwall: Blackwall always tried to forget his past. He wasn’t a good man. Thom Rainer wasn’t… well he was trying to be better. There were some nights where he would look back on his childhood fondly. He used to have this friend, a sweet kid who was curious about everything. They’d both go adventuring into the forests together. Blackwall would have his wooden sword to protect them from anything that tried to ambush them and his friend always had a book or a notebook with them, jotting down notes on every bug and little critter they saw. He remembered they once found a baby nug and were just so happy that they brought it back to their parents. Then one day Blackwall went to go ask if his friend could play and they were just gone, their parents looking heart broken. He just assumed that his friend had been killed. It was why he initially wanted to be a soldier, to protect people so that they never lost their friends. When he meets the Inquisitor he almost doesn’t believe his eyes. He doesn’t know much about the right of Tranquility, but he knows something is wrong. They’re not smiling, not really showing any sort of emotion. He can’t worry about that yet. After they fight off the bandits he talks to them in private and finds out what happened to them. The Inquisitor says they’re fine, that they are of their own free will, that their tranquility clears their mind of emotions and dreams. It just doesn’t sit well with Blackwall.

Iron Bull: There wasn’t really a lot of time for goofing around under the Qun but Bull could still make friends during training. He knew one kid that was always just so happy. They weren’t really good at fighting and they were too soft, but they were nice. Bull liked to hang out with them after training because their parents were bakers. One day though his friend was just gone. When he asked his Tama where he’d gone he was told not to ask again. It wasn’t until later in life that Bull realized his friend and left the Qun. For a while he was furious that his friend could even think about going Vashoth but he had more important things to worry about than some kid he knew when he was ten. So, imagine his surprise when the same friend shows up on the Storm Coast years later. At first he’s wary, but its only for a second as he realizes this is the Inquisitor he’s supposed to meet. That’s when he catches sight of that nasty mark on their forehead. He’d been wandering the south long enough to know what the right of Tranquility and it all sort of clicks. So his friend was a mage, explained why they left. The serabas were treated… poorly to put it mildly. Looks like they didn’t fare any better out here though. Poor bastard. Bull does try and rekindle their friendship. It’s awkward. The Inquisitor isn’t really one to show any emotions anymore, kind of a stark contrast from who they were, but there are certain topics and subjects that once they start talking about they just don’t stop. It’s almost like you can see excitement again. Bull likes it when they’re like that. 

Cassandra: Cassandra had very little friends growing up. She had her brother of course, and she had one friend that always stuck with them. Her friend was always in a good mood even if it was the worst day imaginable. Cassandra loved playing with them. It was better than staying in her uncles house anyways. Her friend loved to talk about magic and really anything that peaked their interest. They would all go out and explore, pretending to be real adventurers. Of course, as with all things, those days came to an end. Cassandra had seen the templars come. It didn’t take her long to figure out they’d taken her friend. As the years passed Cassandra forgot about her friend for a while. She was a Seeker now, the Right hand of the Divine. she had people to protect. It was quite the shock when she saw that their prisoner was her old friend, what shook her to her core was seeing the brand of the Right of Tranquility on their forehead. She continued on with her questioning, still believing that somehow this prisoner had to be the one who destroyed it all, but she doubted it more and more. It wasn’t really until Skyhold that Cassandra tried to rekindle her friendship with the Inquisitor. They were both so different now. They weren’t the same happy go lucky kids. Cassandra herself found it hard to control or understand her emotions and her friend… well they didn’t seem to experience many if any at all. It isn’t until her mission to find the rest of the Seeker’s that she realizes the true extent of the Right of Tranquility, what was done to her, what was done to her friend. Cassandra is determined to make the cure work. She needs to look into it more, to make sure it’s safe, but she promises her friend that she’ll make it work. She wants to ask why her friend was made tranquil in the first place but… she worries it will cause unease. 

Cole: Cole, the real Cole, did not have many friends growing up. The one he did have he cherished. They didn’t have a lot. Sometimes they both went hungry, but his friend always saw the bright side, always kept a smile on their face and told Cole it was going to be okay. They’d get so excited when they got a new book or their parents were able to afford getting them better shoes. They’d always share what they had with Cole as well. They weren’t from a very wealthy village and everyone had their own struggles to deal with. When the templars came Cole hid. He didn’t want to be taken away. He hid for days until the Templars left, but when they had he couldn’t find his friend. A part of him always felt guilty for not making sure his friend was hidden as well. When Cole the mage died and Cole the Spirit became him he still felt that pain. He wished he could have helped. When he met the Inquisitor he was too busy to explain it all. The bad men were coming, their minds altered and full of pain from the lyrium all led by the Elder One. It wasn’t really until Skyhold that he was able to talk with the Inquisitor. He didn’t really understand the Right of Tranquility before. He knew what it was but it didn’t make sense. Now looking at the Inquisitor he can feel it. “Empty, blank, cut off. No more magic no more feeling. It’s quiet very quiet, too quiet sometimes so you study. Pouring yourself into the first task you can find. Working makes the quiet more bearable, makes you feel accomplished and not empty. You remember me, the me who died. You miss that friend.” Cole thinks for a moment and smiles. “Well you are like me and… we can be friends again.” He enjoys being by the Inquisitor’s side. The mark makes them bright, but their mind is quiet and easier to navigate than the others. It’s not that they don’t have emotion it’s just at such a low capacity that it doesn’t really show. The two can talk about things for hours and Cole has so many questions and the Inquisitor is always there to answer them, they even read to Cole on things that they both don’t understand. Cole knows the mages feel uneasy around the Inquisitor. It’s seeing someone so emotionless and logical. Then again they feel that way around him too. He likes the Inquisitor. Maybe the real Cole and the Inquisitor had been friends in the past but they were both new people now, and new friends. 

Varric: Growing up in Kirkwall it wasn’t uncommon for kids to sort of just disappear one day. Happened to one of his best friends. When his mom was just… there and Bartrand was too much of a pain in the ass to deal with Varric would usually go outside to go play. That’s how he met his first friend. The kid actually tried to steal from him but he was horrible at it and apologized with tears in his eyes when Varric caught up to him. Varric thought it was hilarious and told the kid that they should be friends. After that they hung out almost everyday, playing games, pranks, you name it. His friend was always so happy to see him, always cheery and even though they didn’t have much they always set out bowls of water and scraps for the strays around Kirkwall. Then one day they just stopped showing up. Varric tried to find them but no one cared about where they went. He was still too young to realize what had happened. It was only when he was older he found them again. The first time wasn’t with the Inquisition. They were placed outside in the Gallows to sell wears, to show off the tranquil and what happened to mages who disobeyed the Templars. Varric didn’t approach. He was pissed off. His friend had been the sweetest person he’d ever met. They had nothing and they still made a point to be kind and take care of the strays and help out people on the street and the… He needed to drop it. He couldn’t do anything to help them now. Maybe Blondie was right. Maybe the Templars did go too far. When shit hit the fan in Kirkwall he got real nervous for his friend. He kept asking his contacts if they’d gotten out but he never got the chance to find out because someone had him held for questioning about the champion. He finally gets his answer when all hell breaks loose again. He can’t believe his friend is the fucking Herald of Andraste but he’s so relieved to see that they’re alive still. So at first he’s a bit awkward. It takes some getting used to, but really its still his friend. He realizes this when he sees the Inquisitor setting out bowls of milk and scraps for the stray cats that have somehow made their way to Skyhold with them. They’re quieter, don’t really show emotions but they still have interests, they still like listening to Varric’s stories. The more they hang out the more he’s glad to have his friend back. 

Sera: Sera knew plenty of kids growing up sure. She just didn’t have a lot of friends. One of her best friends was this cheery kid. No matter what they would always find a way to smile. They were such a nerd too, always reading about things, even gave Sera some really good books that they knew she’d enjoy and they were right! Some of the other kids would call Sera stupid cause she had been on the streets before she was adopted, cause she talked different, but they didn’t know shite. She was just as smart as them she just learned differently. Her friend understood that. It was nice. They would usually go play in the fields. Her friend loved to study bees and how they worked and it was amazing. Bees did so much and the bumbly ones were hilarious to watch. One day her friend used magic and it scared Sera. Her friend didn’t know how to control it and they were both scared. Sera knew they’d be taken to the circle and it was for the best. The Circle would help them learn how to control it and keep them safe from demons and stuff. She missed her friend, but at least they’d be better off there. Yeah sometimes the Templars were shit and the mages didn’t deserve that but they also had to realize they were terrifying. No one else could do shit like that so of course they needed to be kept in check. The next time she sees her friend she’s supposed to be saving the Inquisitor’s ass. She can’t believe her eyes for a second and just grins, “Andraste’s tits you’re the Herald? This is awesome!” She knows about the Right of Tranquility. It’s used on mages who are too dangerous or the ones people know won’t make it through the Harrowy thing. It takes away their magic and makes em less emotiony. That last bit sucks, but they’re safer. It takes some getting used to but she still loves her friend and they catch up back at Haven. Sure they’re quieter now and don’t smile a lot. Takes some getting used to but like they’re fighting fucking fade demons and crap all of this is a bit crazy if she’s being honest. Sera’ll shoot an arrow at anyone who calls her friend weird for bein Tranquil. They can’t help it and it probably wasn’t their choice but they’re still awesome. 

Josephine: When she meets the Inquisitor she can’t really believe her eyes. She quickly fixes her composure and shakes their hand but it’s quite shocking to her. She can’t believe that that is the same kid who used to come running into the library with the biggest grin on their face and five books in hand. They had once been best friends, studying together and talking about their plans for the future. It was a nice break from the duties she had with her family. Though one day her friend stopped showing up. She asked her parents about it but they said it was best just to not ask, so she listened to them and stopped. Then life seemed to pick up, what with becoming a bard and then working with diplomats and still running her family back in Antiva despite being in Orlais. It was quite the ordeal. Seeing the her friend like this worries her at first so she looks into the Right of Tranquility. She feels sorrow for her friend, they were always bright and full of joy but now they just seemed empty. No matter they were still themself just changed to some degree. Whenever she has free time she tries to catch up with her old friend and scolds herself whenever she feels sorry for her friend. That’s not what the Inquisitor needs. 

Cullen: Cullen is the one that feels most guilty at seeing his old friend now Tranquil. When they were kids they both came from modest families. When their parents were busy the two would play in the fields. They’d take turns doing what the other wanted to play. On Cullen’s turn they’d both be knights and pretend to fight dragons and bandits. On his friends turn they usually ended up exploring and reading. When the Templar’s came Cullen was fascinated. He wanted to be one! They were so cool and they helped protect people and the mages of the Circle. Well that’s what everyone told him and he was only a child so of course he believed it all. His friend was already Tranquil when he joined the Circle as a Templar and he didn’t really deal with the Tranquil. His job was to keep an eye on the apprentices so it really wasn’t until meeting the Inquisitor that he really realized what had happened. When he saw them he couldn’t stop the frown that spread across his face. He refused to believe that his friend could have done anything that would deem it necessary to make them Tranquil. Just another harsh reminder that the Templars over stepped their bounds and abused their power to keep the mages under their foot. It makes him sick. He wants to be better. He wants to leave that life behind, but now he’s face to face with the life he used to glorify and he sees how wrong it was, how wrong he was. It takes a long time for him to try and hang out with the Inquisitor again. It isn’t really until they express approval in him for stopping his intake of lyrium. It shocks him because he was expecting them to tell him it was irrational to stop in such a desperate time but they don’t. “It has been proven that the Lyrium is actually more detrimental in the long run Commander. Continuing lyrium could lead to addiction which would not be good either. It is very beneficial in the long run for you to stop. I know some potions that will help with the headaches and fevers this will cause.” Cullen feels very awkward around them for a while but by the time Corypheus is defeated he does think of the Inquisitor as his friend again. He still feels guilty. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get rid of that guilt, but he is happy to have his friend back. They are different, but they still enjoy exploring the forests and the same books they used to, perhaps even more than when they were kids.

Leliana: Of course she remembers her old friend. How can she not? On days where Leliana was given a chance to play outside with some of the other kids they would make the most of it. They would explore Orlais and look at all of the new fashion styles and all of the pretty shoes. On rainy days they’d sit together in the library and talk about what they wanted to do when they were adults. When her friend disappeared Leliana got worried, but she was told that her friend was discovered to be a mage so they were taken to the circle. Leliana didn’t question it. She was a child so why would she? Many things happened in between that time. She realized that childish dreams were not what kept someone going. No you had to be quick, cunning, and do whatever it takes to survive. She hardened herself to survive and was made one of the hands of the Divine. When she was presented with the prisoner the only sign that she knew it was her friend was a narrowing of her eyes. She quickly looked them over. The Right of Tranquility. She would look into the reason why they were given it. It was… disheartening to see her old friend like this, but then Leliana remembered she wasn’t exactly the same bubbly girl she had once been either. They both changed and understood that the mission must be completed no matter the cost. They do eventually catch up with each other and when they talk now its mostly about missions or what should be done in the future, this time with a very realistic understanding of the possibilities coming their way. It’s bittersweet to have her friend back to say the least. 

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age companions #dragon age companions react #cullen rutherford #dragon age: cullen #josephine montilyet #Dragon Age: Josephine #dragon age leliana #Leliana #dragon age dorian #dorian pavus #Dragon Age: Dorian Pavus #solas #dragon age solas #dragon age: solas #lady vivienne #Dragon Age: Vivienne #Cassandra Pentaghast #dragon age: Cassandra #dragon age cassandra #warden blackwall #dragon age: blackwall #dragon age blackwall #iron bull #the iron bull #dragon age iron bull #Dragon Age: Iron Bull #dragon age: the iron bull #dragon age: sera

[peterwithextrapickles]

Beautiful Things

Request: Nah.

Word Count: 1665

Summary: Reader is in Peter’s photography class and very bitter about their less than optimal grade, especially compared to “Perfect Parker.” One night he hand delivers them the perfect way to an ‘A’.

Ships: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: None. Enjoy your fluff.

Tag List: @morgiee  @justinbiberlover12 

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A/N: Some of this fic was co-written by @problemforfuturetech . I really recommend you check out their blog!!!!!

You wandered around Queens, hoping for anything to get you a passing grade in photography. Maybe your teacher, Mr. Nichols, would be a more lenient if “Perfect Peter Parker” turned in one bad photo. No, every single one of his pictures was an awesome shot from an interesting angle. Most were from impossible heights. How could you compete? But, of course Peter set the standard.

It was past midnight, and you were hoping for some human interest. Unfortunately, most “human interest” out at this hour was a bit… sketchy. So far more than six people had asked you for money, and you’d quickly jogged past too many dark alleys with ominous sounds of drug deals and drunk men at the end.

Suddenly, you heard sirens in the distance that you chose to ignore. To your right you found a truly rare sight indeed: a dark alley with nothing ominous down it. Maybe there’d be a cat asleep swathed in orange street lights you could photograph. Curiously yet cautiously, you silently stepped down it.

“Fuck,” a distinctly familiar voice mumbled angrily. Peter Parker. What was he doing here? You ducked behind a dumpster to watch, and remained silent. You snapped a picture, hoping the click wasn’t too loud. There was certainly something interesting about to go down, and Parker’s surprising abs as he slid off his shirt certainly looked human. You took another picture. Just in case.

Peter quickly hopped out of his jeans. He was wearing Spiderman boxers. You started planning your escape route in case Parker had some weird alley hobbies, but luckily he picked up a heap of lycra. He stepped into it, and it fit him like a potato sack. You took a few pictures. He looked dorky enough that this could potentially be used to embarrass him. He pressed his hand to his chest, and suddenly the sack became a very attractive form-fitting Spider-Man suit. You took more pictures, and including ones showing him putting the trademarked mask on. This was far better than human interest, this was super-human interest.

“Parker!”

“Uhhhhhh…. Who’s Parker?” Peter tried his best, but he was an awful liar.

“How the fuck have you kept this a secret for so long?” You laughed, and Spidey’s eyes narrowed. You swore you could vaguely make out him pouting through the mask. “Wait! This is how you get all those cool pictures! You fucking cheater!”

“What, what pictures? I have no clue what you’re talking about, ma’am. Have a good evening, I’m off to fight crime now!” Before you could get another word in, he shot off into the night, probably towards the sirens.

The next day at school, you slipped a stack of photographs printed out to Peter. “If you wanted pictures of me shirtless, you could’ve asked. I probably would’ve said no, but it’d be less creepy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, Parker. I wouldn’t want to look at your chest if God themself had sculpted it. Stop deflecting. We both know what these pictures prove. I still have all the originals. Start talking, Parker.”

“Talk about what? Photography? Your angles could really use some work,” Peter chided. You glowered in response.

“Fine. I suppose the New York Times won’t have much of a problem with my angles when I send them these pictures identifying Spider-man.” He stayed composed, but his fidgeting gave him away.

“You can’t!”

“Why not, I don’t see why you would care. I mean since that’s not you. You shouldn’t care who has these pictures. Right?”

“I don’t,” he started defensively, “but I also don’t want to get harassed by people like you who think it’s me.” You scoffed. He could pretend all he liked, you knew what you saw.

“Fine then Peter, say you aren’t Spiderman, you still don’t want these pictures to get out, right?”

“Yeah,” he conceded. “Look, my aunt and I don’t have a lot of money, if that’s what you’re after, and Tony Stark doesn’t really take my calls.”

“I don’t care about Stark. Or money. I care about the fact that somehow this is the only class I’m getting below an A in, and it’s your fault.” Your voice got a bit louder in anger, and Peter glared at you.

“My fault? How is that my fault?!”

“Mr. Nichols is practically in love with you! Every picture you turn in might as well be covered in gold for how much he worships you. Next to your pedestal, everything else might as well be garbage.” Peter actually looked surprised. He’d genuinely never noticed the kind of favoritism he got. Somehow, Peter never seemed to notice how easily the world loved him.

“So, if I take pictures for you for the rest of the school year, you promise you’ll destroy these pictures?” He held up the stack you dumped in front of him.

“Of course not! I want your help. I’m not taking credit for anyone else’s work, but maybe you’re right. Maybe my angles, my composition, my lighting, and everything else needs work. Will you help? We can do it during lunch so you still have plenty of time after school to not be Spider-Man.” Despite the huge upper hand you clearly had, you were nervous. He probably hated you right now. Why should he agree? He could always deny the pictures, say they were photoshopped.

“Fine. Every lunch I’ll help you. I’ll make sure your grade in this class goes up. Then at the end of the year I watch you delete those pictures. Deal?”

“I’ll do you one better, Parker. The second my grade reaches a 90 or better, I’ll delete them. After which you can decide to keep helping me or not.”

“I guess we’ve reached an agreement then. See you at lunch?”

“Guess so. By the robotics lab?”

“By the robotics lab,” Peter affirmed.

The rest of your morning classes passed in a blur, and by lunch time your stomach had twisted in more knots than a thousand headphones. You stood by the robotics lab, camera in hand, waiting for Peter Parker. After an eternity slipped into five minutes, he finally arrived. “Sorry, you haven’t been waiting for me long, have you?” He actually sounded sorry, and any resentment slipped away. You could sort of see it. Why everyone who met him was so protective of him. You just couldn’t stay mad at him; it was like kicking a puppy.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Spidey.” You playfully punched him on the arm, but you regretted it the second you did it.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure, I think MJ’s rubbing off on me.” Peter let out a giggle, and you knew then you would never turn him in. The pictures were as good as deleted. “So, you wanna to start?”

“Sure! We should probably go outside though, the lighting in this school sucks.” You walked next to him towards the football field in less-than-comfortable silence. The second you stepped outside, away from the constant chatter and buzz of the lights, he lightened. You took a few candids of him, each more startled than the last.

“What, what are you doing?” He didn’t sound defensive, more bemused.

You laughed in response, prompting a smile. “I like to take pictures of beautiful things,” you responded, if only to make him blush. He did indeed, each cheek as pink as the cherry blossom petals littering the path out of the school.

“Oh, um, thank you? I mean, only May calls me ‘beautiful’, and why are you being so nice to me-” His rambling stopped when he saw the playful smile on your lips.

“It’s nice to see you’re not always so cocky. I’d much rather see you blush than without a shirt.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to mind me without a shirt. You even took pictures.” His words certainly carried an air of confidence, but he stared at the ground, and his cheeks grew redder with every word.

You scoffed. “When you say it like that it sounds kind of stalkerish. You were the one getting undressed in a random alley! Taking pictures of strange occurrences has become something of a second nature.”

“And me in sunlight just now is a ‘strange occurrence?’”

“No, seeing you relaxed. Indoors, especially around loud technology, you look perpetually stressed. Maybe that’s why you’re such a dick sometimes.” Your casual tone left him awkwardly laughing so hard he couldn’t quite breathe properly.

His laugh gave way to speech. “I’m, I’m a what?”

“Your casual comments about my angles? That cocky little smile? Sometimes, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Then you can’t even be bothered to properly be a bad person! You’re actually kind of nice. Especially considering the situation.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize-”

You never do, you thought, but all you said was, “Don’t worry about it, Parker. C’mon, the football field has some interesting if not tacky leading lines.” You took his calloused hand and led him astray.

You slid a singular piece of paper over to Peter Parker. He curiously glanced at it, not a single trace of worry. You’d grown to trust each other, and somewhat comfortable. After the thousandth slip-up, he’d finally confessed to being Spider-Man. Plus, your best grade was in anatomy, and you were first-aid certified. It helped after a particularly bad fight to go by your place, and have you stitch him.

Peter held up the paper. “Your grades? Why would you give me this? I already know your GPA is insane.”

“And yours is only struggling because of your extracurricular. Look at Photography.”

Peter’s eyes bulged. “A ninety-six? That’s amazing!”

You poked his cheek teasingly. “All thanks to you, Parker.” There was no question of the pictures. He didn’t care if you still had them or not. He trusted you with them.

“Hey, um, would you want to still hang out around lunch?”

“‘Course, Bug-Boy. Being around you gives me another beautiful thing to take pictures of. Us.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spiderman: homecoming #homecoming #spider-man: homecoming #x reader #imagine #fic #read this #fic rec #problemforfuturetech #peter parker fic #spiderman fic #spider-man fic #tom holland!peter parker

[partlycharlie-archive]

give me toothaches just from kissin’ me

summary: “Hey- sorry to bother you, but is it okay if I sit here?” Dan didn’t bother looking up from the chemistry textbook splayed in front of them, choosing instead to grab a piece of paper on the table and study it intensely. “Not interested,” they muttered with a quirk of their lips and a short head shake. A pause, and then - “Oh. I mean? I-I didn’t think you were? But, uh, I’ll just. Find another place to sit, I guess. That’s-that’s fine.” (alternately: assumptions are dumb and love is dumber) word count: 3,503 warnings: misunderstandings, mentions of misgendering, fluff, awkward nerds!!!

this is for snowbunnylester - happy birthday! love you lots. (this is officially the longest fic i've ever written look at me being a nerd) read on ao3

-

Dan Howell walked down the unusually empty street with hunched shoulders, eyes slipping over the TD Bank on the corner (wow, they really never close, do they?) and the McDonalds across the street in favor of the glowing - maybe not actually glowing, but it sure felt like it - green Starbucks sign a block and a half ahead of them. They glanced into the nearest shop window and saw their image reflected back at them: a sopping wet flower crown balanced on wildly curly hair, an oversized white varsity jacket with sleeves that reached to their fingertips, and a pair of dark red Doc Martens that squelched with every step they took.

Looking down, Dan couldn’t help but notice the color discrepancy- the left leg of their ripped skinny jeans was almost definitely a darker shade of black than their right (if that's even possible), but they supposed it was just the result of their bulging messenger bag protecting their right leg from the downpour. Which - okay, yes, the weather in New York can be a bit ridiculous at times, but. It was July. Was this really necessary? They had gotten a fucking flash flood warning not five minutes ago, and it felt like something out of the movies.

Dan reached the doorway of Starbucks and started to pull the door open, sighing lightly under their breath when the door didn’t budge. They started to push at the door instead (what the hell is this made out of, anyway?), allowing themself a tiny grin when the door swung open and they were greeted with a blast of hot air. Dan’s eyes scanned the store, noting the empty table sticking out from the wall (odd, considering the weather, but whatever) and rushing to put their bag on one of the chairs.

They grabbed their phone and wallet from their bag (they made sure to double check their wallet for their debit card; they’d lost count of how many times they’d gone to pull out their debit card, only to realize they’d put it in their bag at some point) and walked over to the line winding behind the register. Dan shoved their wallet into their pocket, grabbing their headphones as well and pulling up their Spotify. Head bobbing to the music, Dan only just noticed when they reached the counter and smiled awkwardly at the cashier as they stepped up to the register.

Black and green hair tucked tightly into cornrows, showcasing a warmly tanned face; a flat nose, a full mouth. The standard Starbucks uniform - black shirt, apron (colored a shade of green that was probably copyrighted) tied above wide hips. Black skinny jeans, cuffs shoved into blue and grey sneakers. “Hey there,” ‘Katrina’ said. The cashier flashed a smile that almost seemed genuine. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing fine,” Dan replied with a smile on their face, slinging their Apple headphones around their neck. “How about you?”

“I’m doin’ fine, thanks. What can I get you?” Dan started.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry, I’ll have a- uhm. Grande caramel macchiato, with one of those cheese danishes, please?” Katrina nodded politely. Short nails tapped at the screen in between them, and a hand reached out to Dan, waggling elegant fingers in their direction.

“That’ll be $7.50. Cash or credit?”

“Yeah- credit, thanks.” Dan dug their wallet out of the huge pockets in their jacket (holy shit, god bless men’s clothes, seriously) and pulled out their debit card, inserting it into the card reader and pulling it back out.

“Alrighty. Name?”

“Dan.”

“Alright, Dan. They'll be calling your name in a minute.”  Dan nodded their assent.

They grinned at the cashier as they walked away (and so what if it still gives them a little thrill every time someone calls them by the right name?), and put their headphones back into their ears. The brunette belatedly realized that music had been playing the whole time (with the last bars of getting it on by SALES ringing in their ears), but mentally shrugged- they had a portable charger in their bag, and there was (conveniently enough) an outlet right next to their table.

Dan sat heavily in the chair with their bag on it, huffing as they did so (they’re twenty-one and already turning into an old man, jesus christ) but taking in the room with a lingering smile on their face.

They could still remember the first time that had happened- where someone had just gone along with their name and pronouns. It was when they were in high school - they’d been in the GSA club before they’d even realized they weren’t cis, but come their sophomore year they’d asked everyone in the club to use different pronouns, and they all just... Agreed? Dan had to admit, it was a weird sensation; even at that point, they had already been used to people trying to find ways around using the right name or pronouns (or even just flat-out denying them the ‘privilege’). To get that sort of thing now- where people would look at him and just think Oh yeah, that’s Dan? It felt absolutely incredible.

“Caramel macchiato and cheese danish for Dan!” someone announced. Dan hopped out of their chair again and grabbed the food, smiling their thank you to the worker behind the counter. They headed back to their table and set the drink and food on the countertop, pulling a laptop and their journal out of their bag.

One of Dan’s favorite things to do when they had work and it was rainy was finding the nearest coffee shop and letting the noise around them lull them into a rhythm - they had found that it was the best recipe for success, especially when it came to their work. Today they were hugely grateful for it, especially because they had a chemistry essay to finish, and they were only halfway through with it. Dan knew somewhere in the back of their mind that it was due in roughly half a week, but he really couldn’t afford to miss any more assignments.

Time passed, songs played, more caramel macchiatos were ordered, and -

“Hey- sorry to bother you, but is it okay if I sit here?”

Dan didn’t bother looking up from the textbook they had eventually placed in their lap, choosing instead to grab a worksheet from their bag and study it intensely. “Not interested, thanks,” they snapped lowly with a sarcastic quirk of their lips and a short head shake. No matter how many people accepted them, this sort of thing happened enough - hetero/cis/whatevernormative people assuming something about them based on the way they looked, or acted, or (god forbid) dressed, for God’s sake - that they knew how to go through the motions of shutting somebody down without showing how much it hurt. Maybe it was presumptuous of them, to assume that was what the stranger was doing, but was it a crime to feel safe rather than sorry?

A pause, and then - “Oh. I mean? I-I didn’t think you were? But, uh, I’ll just. Find another place to sit, I guess. That’s-that’s fine.” Dan’s head snapped up, simultaneously yanking out their headphones and taking in the clearly nervous form of the person standing in front of them.

Dan’s first thought was Holy shit, this guy is tall. Compared to Dan’s measly 5’6”, this guy seemed like a tower, and Dan estimated no less than 6 feet, at least. Cropped black hair, fashioned in a style similar to what theirs had been like before they decided to go curly. Bright blue - no, green - no, yellow - eyes, framed by a pair of thick and square glasses that Dan would assume were fake (all for the aesthetic - they’d do it too, if they lost any more dignity) if not for the thick and obviously prescription lenses inside of them. A black tank top with the words “MY TASTE IN MUSIC IS YOUR FACE” written in red and white; the word “FACE” is crossed out with white ink. Dark red jeans with the cuffs rolled up, black Converses with rainbow laces, a dark red cardigan that seemed to swallow them whole (in a good way?). A tall black umbrella - Dan could see a hint of sky blue on the inside. A hipster. Why is it that the only times they’ve ever been preemptively rude to people, they ended up not deserving it?

“Shit. Sorry! I just- I dunno, I get a lot of? Whatever, people are weird, but! Yeah, of course, you can sit here, no problem!” Dan scanned the table in front of them, belatedly realizing that they had taken up nearly the entire space with almost-empty coffee cups and chemistry notes that they used once and never looked at again. They blushed fiercely, avoiding the look of wry amusement that was sure to be on the stranger’s face, and busied themself with swiping their papers into their bag and carrying the cups to the trash.“Sorry about that,” they apologized, smiling sheepishly.

“No worries!” Hipster smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling at the corners, and plopped a galaxy-styled bag onto the floor, dashing away to (presumably) grab something to drink. The stranger came back with a disposable cup and a brownie (shit, Dan kind of wanted a brownie now) and plopped down into the chair opposite Dan. They reached into the galaxy-styled bag lying on the floor next to them and pulled out a plain black sketchbook and a blue pencil bag with the words “get carried away” printed in gold, scripted ink, immediately opening the book to a page full of some sort of half-finished abstract piece.

Silence ensued; after a couple of minutes of observing both the stranger across the table from them and the rest of the coffee shop, Dan let themself shift their focus back to the conclusion of the godforsaken essay they were still working on. They put their headphones back in, smiling softly at the sound of Nina Simone, and got to work.

 “... which, therefore, enforces the conclusion that radioactive elements can be used for a multitude of purposes over the course of their lifetimes." Dan sighed in relief as they typed the last word, and barely noticed the series of short knocks that sounded against the wooden tabletop.

They glanced up to see the stranger with a fist poised above the table and an awkward smile. Dan smiled back and paused Drummer Boy (by MisterWives - the band had opened at the last concert Dan went to, and they were hooked), pulling out their headphones and snapping closed their laptop with a cocked head. “What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you,” they mumbled, rubbing their neck, “but, uhm- I realized I. Don’t have your pronouns? Sorry if that sounds really weird, but I’d rather not fuck it up, y’know?”

Dan’s previously hesitant smile widened into a grin - they weren’t trying to be pretentious, but they knew better than most how difficult it was to find someone who just asked for pronouns instead of assuming. In Dan’s experience, the only people who’d ever asked them about stuff like that had been people that already knew what it was like to be misgendered - or were close to someone who did.

“Oh! Yeah - it’s they/them, thanks. My name’s Dan, by the way. What’s yours?”

Hipster started to speak but seemed to reconsider their words. “Name or pronouns?” they asked, letting out a small chuckle.

Fuck. Dan drew in a sudden breath and felt their face contort into a full-fledged cringe, eliciting a larger bout of laughter from the stranger. “Sorry! Sorry - fuck, my mind is frazzled, oh my God. Both, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, of course! Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” The stranger’s lingering laughter faded into an easy grin, and its infectious nature eased Dan into a responding smile without realizing. “Phil, and he/him. It’s lovely to meet you!”

Phil reached a pale hand over the table and Dan grasped it firmly, admiring the stark contrast in their hands - Phil’s hand was so large that it seemed to overwhelm theirs, much like the jacket sleeves they had pushed up to their elbows.

“So. What are you working on? It almost looked like you were ready to stab the damn keyboard with the amount of force you were putting into your typing.” Dan flushed, brushing a hand through their still-damp hair and rubbing it against the back of their neck.

“Ha - you probably don’t want to hear about it. I mean, I’m fairly good at chemistry, but even I know-”

“Chemistry?” Phil’s face lit up almost immediately, and Dan felt their cheeks heating up again. Looking at Phil’s smile felt like gazing into the sun, and they thought absentmindedly that if they stared for too long, they might be blinded.

They couldn’t say they’d mind.

“My favorite science is definitely plant biology - because holy shit I love plants so much - but chemistry is super cool too! I loved the titration unit - y’know, when you had to mix the solutions and the identifiers or whatever? It was so cool! The colors were all swirly; I felt like I was in the movies.” Dan grinned.

“Oh man, I know exactly what you mean. We finished that unit a while ago, so this paper is on radioactive elements- y’know, like carbon-14 and stuff? Yeah, we had to look into possible alternative…”

 “Hey- really sorry to bother you guys, but we’re actually closing up now? So…” Dan jumped, having been cut off in the middle of explaining of why they stopped straightening their hair by the awkwardly shifting employee. Phil glanced around the cafe, clearly just as surprised by the lack of customers as Dan was. The sky outside was pitch black - shit, what time was it?

“It's nine-fifty,” 'Theo' murmured in response to Dan's unspoken question.

“Holy shit Phil we’ve spent two actual hours just talking what the hell I’m so sorry for bothering you? Do you have anywhere you need to be? Shit I totally kept you oh man-”

“Dan. Don’t worry, okay? I don't really have anything I have to do - I'm definitely not missing out on anything, I promise.” Dan sighed gratefully and rubbed a hand down their face - who knows what they would've done if Phil had ended up missing out on something important.

They steadied their hands on the empty table - Phil and they must've both put their stuff away at some point - and pushed themself away from their chair, bouncing on the balls of their feet once they stood up. Phil stood up as well, super-cool bookbag in hand, and they walked out together after a sheepish “have a good night!”

They stood on the corner of 86th and 3rd, and Dan couldn't help but notice the way the light shined across Phil's face. Traffic was at a standstill and the neon red from the traffic light cast a glow on the man's face, as if Dan was looking at him through rose-tinted glasses.

It felt absurdly romantic, considering they'd only known each other for a couple of hours.

“Which way are you going?” Phil asked, gesturing vaguely.

“I'm headed towards the Q -” they pointed east, “- ever since they finished the line, I've basically been using it every chance I get.”

Phil grinned in response. “I feel you. I wish it connected with the 6, but we'll probably have to wait another century for that. I'm heading to Lex.” Dan pouted a little - maybe it had been a bit far-fetched, but somewhere in the back of their mind they'd been hoping that Phil would be able to take the train with them.

“Alright, well - guess I'll. See you around?” Phil's face flashed with something that looked vaguely like disappointment, but he nodded slowly.

“Yeah, definitely. It was great to meet you!” Phil stuck out a hand, and Dan used it to pull him into a hug, shoving their face into his chest. Phil flailed for a few (long) seconds before wrapping lanky arms around Dan's shoulders.

“It was fun talking to you,” Dan mumbled into his cardigan, smiling gently into the comfortable fabric.

“You too.”

Dan eventually pulled themself away, hopping subtly onto their tiptoes to brush imaginary dust off of Phil's shoulders.

“See you around,” they said, flashing a short wave. They pivoted on their heel, crossing the avenue (and thanking the god of social awkwardness that it was their light to walk) with hands in their pockets, wrapping fingers around the tangled headphones they'd shoved in earlier. They pulled out their headphones and untangled them, putting one into their ear when-

“Wait, Dan!”

They jumped, letting out a small squeal that echoed in their brain. Dan turned around slowly to face Phil, who stood five feet away from them with a hand outstretched as if he thought Dan would run away when their name was called.

Not too far-fetched, really; they definitely would've bolted if they hadn't recognized the voice calling out to them.

“Um. Hi?” Dan managed to blurt out before breaking into giggles. Phil soon followed, clapping a hand over his mouth to hide the hint of tongue slipping out between grinning teeth (holy fuck that's adorable).

Phil's laughter faded out, replaced with a bashful smile and a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I, uh. Well- I realized you never finished telling me about your hair?” Dan raised an incredulous eyebrow, holding giddy laughter behind a bitten-down smile.

“Oh, really? I didn't know my story was that captivating.”

Phil scoffed lightly. “Everything about you is captivating, but that's besides the point.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise. He looked about as startled as Dan felt, and Dan felt their cheeks flush with surprised delight.

“Anyway. Maybe you could give me your number, and finish telling me some time?”

Holy shit.

What?

Dan didn't realize they'd said that last part out loud (probably with a wildly surprised look on their face) until Phil's face dropped, jaw snapping closed with a click.

“Oh. I mean? No worries? It's tot-”

“No! No, no, no, no!” Dan cut him off with a string of frantic words, shoving one of their hands through their already mussed-up hair and waving the other one wildly in the air. “Shit! Oh my god, no no no no no, I'm so sorry, oh my god, Jesus fucking-”

They cut themself off with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose with their fingertips.

“Sorry, I just- didn't expect that. Yes, yes of course, yes.” Dan smiled, more of a quirk of their lips than anything else, and Phil perked up with a hopeful smile.

“Awesome!” Phil pulled his phone out from his pocket and Dan entered their number in, saving themself under “danny boy ;) ;) ;)” and texting an “eyyyyy waddup boi” to their number with a satisfied nod.

“There we go,” they chirped, handing the phone back to Phil. The tall man stole a glance at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket, laughing at the contact name.

“Okay, so now this is goodbye, right?”

Phil nodded and smiled again, pulling them into another short hug. They went willingly and squeezed as hard as they could, bursting with a tiny giggle when Phil over-dramatically complained about not being able to breathe, jeez Dan, you're way too strong for this!

“Okay,” Dan said finally, dragging themself away from Phil's lanky frame. They trailed soft hands down the sleeves of Phil's sweater, stopping right above his hands to look up at him with a hopeful smile.

“See you around?” The pink flush on Phil's cheeks contrasted with the green glow from the street lights. He gave a tiny nod and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned down to press full lips briefly against Dan’s cheek.

It felt like clammy hands - whispered compliments - old rock music played as high as they could get it - a breeze blowing through their hair - legs intertwined - plants crowding the hallway of an apartment they didn't have yet -

Phil smelled like brownies once he got close enough, and Dan couldn't help but wonder what he would taste like if he got even closer.

Phil smiled softly (yet again, holy shit this guy is full of smiles and Dan feels blessed every time he sees one) at the small gasp Dan let out, flashing another tiny wave at the frozen person in front of him. He turned around quickly, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, and rushed back across the street with shoulders that hunched to protect him against the wind. Dan watched him leave, letting the faint sounds of a Hozier song echo in their brain.

Dan pressed soft fingers to a frozen cheek (wow, how much more cliché can they get, really), feeling it puff up as their face stretched into a giddy smile.

This felt like the start to something good.

“and my baby's sweet as can be she he give me toothaches just from kissin’ me”

- work song, hozier

#phan #my fic #partlycharlie #phanfic #phanfiction #phandom #meet-cute #;) #fluff