#could also be a writing prompt too

[sl33py-g4m3r]

passing thought that sounds like some "7 mysteries" crap posting but it's thought I've had if some poor kid had ever had to take music lessons and their parents have a "no video game" music rule... as if video game music isn't real music to them or something...

Might be some rich traditionalist people out there that think that way tho. But~~! on with silly post~~

I figure the kid would try to play the most obscure video game music that there was; or that their parents didn't know was video game music.

A lone music room in a wealthy school that no one remembered existed; they went to practice, any and all video game music they liked, it was just one instrument however.

Rumour has it that if you stand in the hallway and listen sometimes; it sounds like an entire orchestra preforming whatever music is being played. But when you look in the classroom or get close enough, it's just the student practicing alone and the orchestra fades~~~

if you tried recording it, would it just be that one instrument or would you catch the orchestra as well?

how is this possible?

is the music room haunted?

do they summon demons to preform with them?

Mysterious Illlusionary Orchestra ~~~ Forbidden Melodies ~~~

will some stubborn reporter actually catch proof of this mysterious phenomenon?

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[luxaofhesperides]

Human/Mer AU + Bioluminescent Siren Duke ; requested by @justwannabecat!

The human hadn’t been in his territory recently. 

He wasn’t attached or anything, but Duke had started to look forward to seeing him around. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to be under the curious, watchful eyes of a human who could so easily be dragged down into the depths. 

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be indulging this human’s curiosity, trying to lure him closer time after time. Holding the attention of any human is dangerous; Duke’s heard the stories plenty of time. He’s seen the damage humans can do even more. 

There’s just something different about this human, who never dives too deep, who smiles at him and leaves little gifts in the tide pools tucked away from the rest of the beach, hidden from sight. Or rather, usually hidden from sight, since this human is the only one to go there. 

It’s foolish, but Duke actually misses his human. 

It’s not the first time he’d been gone for long stretches of time, but something feels off. There’s worry curling up at the base of his throat, making him swim to the surface more frequently. Steph had given him a look when she caught him, but didn’t say a word. She shouldn’t, really, when she’s been sneaking up to the surface for her own human friend, some small, dangerous human with dark hair and hands that speak more than a voice.

He’d seen her, just once, when he had gone up to splash water and his human then swim away.

Somehow, things felt easier back then. Like the horrors of the world couldn’t reach them among those tide pools. 

It’s reached them now.

Duke’s not expecting to see his human when he swims up to the surface. He’s expecting another quiet night, an empty beach, a dark sky with only the moon casting its lonely light down onto him. 

But when he swims up, his eyes go to a figure on the beach instantly. 

Even from this distance, Duke knows: that’s his human.

He doesn’t think before he’s swimming over, pushing himself faster than he’s ever gone before. It’s low tide, so he can’t get as close as he wants and can’t reach most of the tide pools at all, but it gets him close enough. Human and merfolk vocal chords are different; he can speak in water, but can’t make more than a few hums in air, and humans can’t really do anything in water at all. 

His human is sitting with his knees tucked into his chest on the beach. He’s hiding in his clothes, a hood pulled over his head, but he looks up when Duke drags himself onto the sand. 

Duke can see bruises. Dried blood. A stray tear slipping out of his eyes. 

He wants to ask what’s happened? But all that comes out is a low crooning noise. 

His human laughs, a quiet, bitter noise that makes Duke’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Hey,” he rasps in a low voice. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve had a better time than I did.”

Duke can’t reach his human. The distance between them isn’t great, but it’s too much. He’s already partially out of the water, hands sinking into the wet sand just out of reach of the waves, and he can’t get any farther out. He reaches a hand out, silently pleading for his human to come closer.

The move makes his human soften, some of the hard edge of tension in his body melt away. He gets up and walks into the water, then sits down next to Duke, taking his hand. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

If they were underwater, Duke would be able to say I missed you too. Don’t ever go away so long again. But his human is in no shape to go underwater right now, so Duke presses his hand against his lips and hums lightly. 

They sit in silence for a moment, and Duke realizes that he’s never been this close to any human before. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels like relief, to finally have his human in his reach, safe from the rest of the world. 

He gives him human another moment, then reaches out and carefully pushes his hood back. His human allows it, blinking at him slowly. Without the shadow of the hood, Duke can clearly see the bruise coloring his cheekbone and the cuts going down his temple to his jaw. His split lip is still red with blood, and what little of his throat isn’t hidden by his clothes reveals more bruises wrapped around the delicate column of his neck. 

Duke ghosts his fingers over each of these injuries, hating how easily humans hurt each other. His human leans into the touch despite how it must hurt, something devastating in his expression. 

Who hurt you comes out as a questioning trill. Somehow, it gets the point across.

“It’s alright,” his human says. “Really. I’m not even that hurt. It’s just been a long few months. We never talk much, so you wouldn’t know this, but I have to fight a lot of people. Perils of being a hero, you know?”

Duke knows about heroes. More specifically, he knows about mer heroes. He’s considered being one himself, but the currents shifted and he ended up more a loner, banding with the other rejects of the city to live in the fringes and help only those who wander out too far from the marginally safer waters within. 

He hasn’t heard of any human heroes, but then again, he doesn’t know much about humans at all. Nothing beyond the stories all parents tell their children to scare them away from the surface, or the horror stories kids tell each other in the middle of the night when they want to scare each other.

He hums again to let his human know he’s listening. His human has such a nice voice. Why haven’t they done this before? 

It’s always been a push and pull between them, carefully keeping their distance but always circling back to each other. Duke would let his human swim with him, and his human would let Duke sit safely on the other side of a tide pool, tossing sea shells back and forth between each other.

They don’t even know each other’s names. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could go back in time and do things better. But he’s happy here with his human and he doesn’t want to lose this either.

He’ll just have to make the best of what he has. It’s how he’s always lived after his parents disappeared.

“This really isn’t that bad,” his human says, “I’ve taken worse hits before. It’s just that I couldn’t transform before the attack started, so now my human form is bruised too.”

…Human form? The more Duke hears, the more questions he has. 

Duke hums at a lower octave, placing a hand over his human’s chest. 

His human laughs lightly. “Yeah, I guess we’ve never really talked much about ourselves, did we? I’m human, don’t worry, just not all the time. I… actually, I died a few years ago. But I came back partially. So I’m also half dead still and I can transform into a ghost to fight threats. I’m a hero called Phantom. Actually, Danny Phantom since I was stupid enough to just give out my first name when I started out. In my defense, my brain was still a little fried.”

There is so much he wants to say to that. He tries, and makes a series of low hums and clicks in the back of his throat, staring at Danny (he finally got his human’s name!) incredulously.

“I promise I’m fine,” Danny continues. “It was just a bit rough. As soon as I get some time to recover, I’ll be good as new! And I really did miss you, you know. Didn’t even go home first, just come straight here.”

That’s honestly really sweet. Duke hums again, a lighter pitch, and takes hold of Danny’s wrist and tugs him towards deeper waters. 

“What? You want me to go in?”

Duke nods, already shuffling his way back out of the sand. 

He expects to look awkward during the process. What he most definitely doesn’t expect is for Danny to easily pick him up and walk them both into the ocean.

Listen. Duke is not a small mer. He’s big. He’s got a long, heavy tail and wide fins going down his back, his forearms, and the sides of his tail. It’s a struggle for him to fit into seaweed nests with his friends during the colder seasons, often left to balance on the edge with his tail hanging out. His friends struggle to pull him through the water with his weight. His parents weren’t able to hold him much after he started growing.

None of this matters to Danny, who acts as if Duke weights nothing at all. 

To his great embarrassment, his fins flare in appreciation for Danny’s strength. He was not expecting a human to be so strong, but Duke’s not about to lie to himself and say it’s not attractive. 

He trills to Danny, who laughs again, then falls into the water, taking them both under. 

Duke doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Danny and swims them further out. He stays close to the surface so Danny can rise for air as needed, but he makes no move to leave Duke’s side even after a few minutes.

He glances back, concerned, when he sees that Danny is watching him with dark eyes, not breathing at all despite being conscious.

Danny holds up a finger and closes his eyes. Two rings of light appear around his waist, then split apart and pass over his body. Instantly, Danny’s body becomes lighter, as if Duke’s hand is grasping at a current on the seabed. His hair turns white and his eyes glow from how bright of a green they are, but there’s something inhuman about his features now, something that makes him look different beyond just physical features. 

Well. Danny did say he could transform.

Now that they’re underwater, Duke can finally speak. The first thing he asks is, “What was that?”

Danny grins at him. “That,” he says, speaking with ease as if he’s not underwater at all, “was my transformation. And this is my ghost form. Quite the look, isn’t it?”

“You can talk down here?! Also, hi, my name’s Duke. Since I never introduced myself.”

“Ghosts can do a lot of things,” Danny answers with a cheeky grin. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been calling you glowfish in my head this whole time.”

“Glowfish?”

“Yeah. Because you, you know,” Danny gestures vaguely at him, “Glow.”

Duke glances down at his back fins, which are indeed glowing. They flare a bit from embarrassment, which just makes the dots of light lining the fins more visible. He doesn’t glow a lot, keeping a tight hold of that ability, but sometimes it comes out anyways when he’s feeling especially happy.

And apparently, he’s always very happy around Danny. 

It’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know what that means, because if anyone of his friends found out, they’d laugh at how obvious he’s being. Drawbacks of being somewhat bioluminescent: anyone familiar with mers who have this feature know exactly what the glow means. 

“Right,” he says just a beat too late. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, can you tell me how you really feel? Those injuries didn’t look too good.”

“It’s fine, really! I take harder hits all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Danny doesn’t answer for a long moment, then sighs. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

“Stay with me for tonight,” he says. “You’ll be safe. You can rest and heal and I’ll keep you safe from anything that comes looking for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Danny doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be exhausted. “Yeah, alright. Take me away, Duke. You know, this is like those stories about sirens luring sailors down into the depths.”

“Well, I am a siren.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I take after my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to sing.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about being dragged down to my watery death.”

Duke snorts. “Good thing you’re already a ghost then. Not much I can do to you down here.”

He swims down, heading towards a small cavern in a sea rock that he’s claimed as his own, leading Danny into it. The light from his fins illuminates the entrance and the rocks within, a narrow passage that goes in for a few meters before opening up into a larger space full of carefully tended to seaweed and starfish decorating the walls. 

There’s a nook tucked away in the back wall where he’s set up a seaweed bed, the plant braided together into something more solid. It’s big enough to fit his tail, which means it’s big enough for him and Danny. 

“Here,” he says, helping Danny down. “Get some sleep. Then you can tell me about what happened in the morning and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’m glad you’re here Duke,” Danny whispers, curling up on his side.  He holds Duke’s hand, twining their fingers together, and it’s as nice as it is strange to feel how cold Danny is in this form when he was so warm as a human. 

“I’ll always be here for you. You just need to come back to me.”

Danny hums, but doesn’t answer. It’s alright; Duke’s used to his loved ones leaving. He knows he can’t make them stay. All he can do is hope they return one day.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone in his home. There’s a communal cave where his friends stay that he visits when he gets lonely, but this place used to be for his family. Now it’s just him.

Him and Danny. 

The last time there was song in these walls, his mother was still around, singing him lullabies. 

Looking down at Danny, curled up and so strangely fragile looking, Duke feels the song build up in his chest. It slips out in low, soft notes, an old melody passed down through generations of their family. 

He sings Danny to sleep.

He sings and sings and sings until all his nightmares are soothed and dawn is almost upon them. 

It’s all he can do, so Duke sings and hopes it’s enough to keep Danny close to him for just a little longer.

[spam-extemporal]

I was thinking about a prompt/drabble I read a while ago (but I haven't been able to find it, if anyone knows pls tag me T-T) and I made a whole story in my head so, here it is

It had all gone to utter shit, he had reached the point where he couldn't even tell if it was day or night outside. It might also have to do with being buried beneath all the rubble, but he didn't think floating up would help, not like he wanted to try again after last time.

Outside was... A mess, after the portal destabilized, an explosion had covered the entire town, he had felt every single death deep inside his soul, from his parents, to his friends, Lancer, Dash, Valerie, one by one, it was the most painful thing he had ever felt, fractions of a second stretch out into decades, each one of them dying and carrying a fraction of his soul with them.

He didn't even know how he had survived, his human half could have died, and he was too scared of that possibility to even try to shift onto that form, even as phantom some wounds still remained, his healing had helped with the worst of it, but the damage to his core was bad, and after a while his body had stopped healing.

The worst of it came with the tremors, he was completely unable to feel warmth anymore, the cold seeped deep into his bones, making his joints ache, frost emanating from his body and covering the tiny hole that was once Jazz's room, he had tried to call back the ice in the beginning, but instead of helping it had gone out of control, he could feel the snow covering the ground outside like it was part of his body, and it made him all the more scared about going up.

He could feel when curious eyes tried entering the town, heavy footsteps trailing the borders to try and investigate the sudden disappearance of life, he was always able to make them go away, as hurt as he was his only defense was making his aura as scary as he could, adrenaline flaring up and making it as oppressive as possible, it was enough to drive them away, but it left him utterly exhausted and unable to move for a while.

It was that exhaustion that made it dangerous, he could feel someone approaching, and he was defenseless against them.

[rosiechameleon]

You know all those stories of animals that somehow know a person is trans long before the person themselves figures it out? That, but with Spider-Man.

It’s not so noticeable the first year, of course. Sure, it’s pretty weird that he asked a teenage girl wearing a mini-skirt if he was alright, but Spider-Man did just get chucked into two different walls and a car door, so he probably wasn’t thinking straight at the time.

Then like half a decade goes by and oh shit, it turns out that Spidey was right all along. Isn’t that a crazy coincidence? What do you mean this has happened to multiple people. Wtf does that mean.

[cinderflower]

MalMiq Week 🦋 Day 3 - Sacrifice

Kintsugi (13.5k | M) - a post-DLC fix-it fic is now up on AO3!

[castieldelamancha]

Castiel turns to lay on his side, fighting back a shiver. It's not even cold in Dean's room, well, what used to be Dean's room, it's their room now. Still, Castiel, without his grace to keep him unaffected by the differences in temperature, gets cold too easily.

He tugs on the blanket, trying to find some warm, he is met with a bit of resistance but he can finally wrap the blanket around himself immediately feeling how he, slowly, starts warming up.

It takes his sleep addled brain an embarrassing long moment to register the fact he isn't the only one who needs the blanket and that he has effectively stolen all of it for himself.

He doesn't waste a second, turning back around, as gently as he can in order not to wake Dean up, and opening up the blanket so he can cover him back again.

He freezes at the sound of a tiny chuckle, one he would have missed if they hadn't been in a completley quiet noom, arms and blanket wide open, hoovering over Dean.

"I was about to kick you out of bed." Dean's voice is just a rough, sleep-heavy, whisper. Castiel can hardly see him with the little light filtering from the hallway but he can tell his eyes are barely opened and that he is smiling up at him.

"Sorry."

Dean shakes his head, "I know you get cold" of course he knows, even if Castiel won't complain about it out loud, that's why he keeps finding warm blankets and cozy sweatshirts on almost every room where he usually spends time in the bunker. "It's okay."

"Thank you," Castiel hopes Dean understands he is grateful for everything, not only for his forgiveness in this moment. He leans down to leave a kiss on Dean's lips, brief and sweet, and in that close proximity he suddenly finds himself trapped by Dean's legs, the blanket and the other man's strong arms.

Castiel would take his time to think about how those arms were strong enough to support him when he was still an angel, like Dean was the one saving him from Hell, how those hands healed him even if they didn't have the grace that used to flow from Castiel's own fingers.

However he has no time for any appreciation as Dean, in an extraordinarily quick move, has their positions reversed, Castiel laying on his back, Dean on top of him.

He supports himself on his elbows for long enough to pepper Cas' face with a bunch of kisses, before letting himself fall on Cas' chest, knocking the breath out of the two of them.

"Better?"

Castiel has never felt warmer, he notices then, from head to toe, deep inside his chest. Dean presses his ear right to his heartbeat, tangles their legs together, one of his hands rubs his side, sneaking under the t-shirt Castiel is wearing.

Dean lets out a satisfied, deep, sigh.

Castiel pulls him even closer, "better."

[sunfloweraro]

Prompt: Platonic Relationships (AKA Aromantic Awareness Week!)

Valentine’s Day is rough for Hyrule. Twilight checks in and learns something about himself, to both their delight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“Yer… what?”

“I’m aromantic,” Hyrule said. When Twilight still didn’t seem to understand, the nerves bustling in his chest grew tenfold. Hyrule began to ramble. “It just means—for me at least—I don’t experience any romantic attraction. You guys are always talking about your loves back home, and since today is Valentines Day, I wanted to tell you—oh, I’m sorry. It’s weird, I shouldn’t have said anything—“

“No, no!” Twilight was quick to backtrack, as if he hadn’t intended to make Hyrule uncomfortable. “Sorry, I was jus’… thinkin’ on what ye said.”

“Right…” Hyrule didn’t know what more to say. He had blurted the words when Twilight had checked in on him, after he had walked out on their Valentine’s Day conversation about romance, feeling left out.

“So… ye don’t like anyone romantically?” Twilight asked. “Ye never ‘ave?”

“Not once.”

“And that… that’s a thing ye can do?”

Hyrule paused. Desperate hope lay within Twilight’s eyes, so far from what he had expected. “Rancher?”

“Do ye think maybe… I could be like ye?”

A smile broke out on Hyrule’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I just—really? You feel the same?”

“I never realised it was an option,” Twilight admitted, his face pink.

“It is! But I thought… You always spoke of Ilia.”

Twilight laughed awkwardly. Looked away, scratching his cheek. “Yeah… I needed someone tuh ‘gush’ about. It’s not hard—she’s me best friend, jus’.. not in the way the others wan’ her tuh be.”

“That’s okay!” Hyrule hated that Twilight felt he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He felt immensely grateful Twilight had followed him tonight. “So, you’re like me, then?”

“I think I am,” Twilight agreed, slow and soft. Uncertain. Then, his face brightened. “I am!”

“That’s great!”

“Can ye… can ye tell me more? About being aromantic?”

“Of course I can. And Rancher? I’m happy for you.”

Twilight’s face softened. “Me too.”

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the writing prompts;

19. For luck - Rom and Leeta

"And then," Bashir was saying - though in truth, Rom was paying only half attention, far too busy thinking about Leeta - "she came right up to me, and kissed me on the lips!"

"Oh, she did, did she?" Chief O'Brien said, scoffing good-naturedly.

"It's true!" Bashir insisted, though he didn't look insulted by the Chief's doubt. He was smiling into his glass, seeming quite delighted by the disbelieving frown on O'Brien's face.

Rom didn't quite understand what was supposed to be so 'unbelievable' about the story. In fact - "It seems pretty believable to me," he said. "Doctor Bashir's always kissing beautiful women." (Including, at one point, Leeta - though not anymore, Rom thought with some pleasure.)

"Yes, but this one was out of his league," the Chief said, batting his hand playfully across the table.

Bashir just smiled bashfully, ignoring the swipe. "Ah, well. You're right about that. She wasn't really interested in me after all. Turns out, she'd just misconstrued the human concept of a 'good luck kiss'".

"Ohh! A 'good luck kiss'!" Rom said eagerly. Then, after a pause, "Uh, what's a 'good luck kiss'?"

The Chief sat back, idly crossing his arms. "Well, it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It's a kiss that you give someone to wish them luck."

"Oh," Rom said, considering that. Luck was always a good thing to have. Perhaps... "Oh! Leeta!" He stood, sending his chair clattering backwards. "I'll be back!" he shouted, then raced from Quark's bar, ignoring his brother's parting shout out dismay.

He needed to find Leeta.

--

"Leeta! Waaaait!" Rom hollered, shuffling through the crowded promenade as quickly as he could manage, chasing after her familiar voice. "Leeta! I need to give you something!"

This would be easier, he thought, if Bajorans could hear as well as Ferengi could.

But, at last, Leeta stopped, turning to find him. "Rom? Rom, what's the matt-"

The rest of her sentence trailed off into a hum as Rom reached up, pulling her down to plant a kiss square on her lips. One of her hands cupped Rom's cheek, soft. Rom didn't really know how long a 'good luck kiss' was supposed to last for - he really should have gotten more details before running off (for example, does it need tongue? Bashir never specified.) - but he thought that this should satisfy it.

He pulled away, grinning toothily up at his wife. "Hi, Leeta," he said.

She smiled down at him, cheeks flushed and lovely as always. "Hi, Rom. What was that for?" she asked, looking bemused and delighted.

"It's a kiss," Rom said, perhaps unnecessarily. "For luck," he added. "It's a hoo-man tradition!"

"For luck? Rom," she asked, laughing, "what are you wishing me luck for?"

Rom blinked. "Uhhh... For your day?"

Leeta beamed at him, and then leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Well, I think it worked. I do feel pretty lucky now."

Rom grinned. "Me, too."

--

(also if anyone else wants to make a request, the ask game is here. i can't promise they'll get done as quick or be as long as this one is, though!)

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

yk what im thinking? the fentons are 100% crazy enough to be Waynes. so what if they were? Jack could be Thomas Waynes' great-grandfather's brother who lived at Wayne Manor with his wife and kids. and they still open the portal with danny in it, so hes still a halfa. but either Jack and Maddie find out and they stick him in a stasis tube to try and fix him (what if they were also the people who figured out how to make the court of owls dead guys????) or Danny got stuck in the portal when he went inside and it doesnt open until the bats find it.

when the bats find him im thinking either they know (as well as danny) that hes half dead (the stasis tube) or they dont (stuck in the portal) and they find out all the fun stuff together. but, if they know hes dead already and so did danny there could be more creepy ghost shenanigans that could happen before they found the laboratory. which is v important

[pyrepostings]

Conditioned whumpee, whose caretaker is trying to convince xem it's ok to take off the collar now that whumper's gone.

Whumpee decides, in xeir head, that xey could explain to whumper if xey are recaptured that xey downgraded xeir collar because whumper wasn't there to give orders. See, xey still wore a collar, it's just made out of leather instead of gold. See, xey didn't think for a moment xey could be free.

And this way, Caretaker can be satisfied about aer "progress" in the meantime.

[huntressofartemis001]

character concept: a hero with x-ray vision whose health gets progressively more deteriorated due to radiation exposure

[brennacedria]

I might post a lyric for a belated Thursday Bangers, since there wasn't one yesterday. I know WHO I would choose for one, but I don't know which of their songs/lines to pick. If I pick one I'll tag it, and a few people, so people can pick up on it for the week.

[dafpork]

repeating myself here, but for good reason: the Silliness of the dafpork dynamic, however you determine the definition of Silliness, is really so integral to me and i think a big part of what makes them so special and personal. and i think that's a big reason why i was so afraid to post even the most innocuous stuff on main--even if they're not being clingy or cute together in a drawing, even in the comics where they're bickering like children or just being Themselves, there's this undercurrent of love beneath it that feels so comparatively intimate. they can have their moments of Unabashed Earnest, and they stand out much more and feel more special when you have them being dumb together to contrast it with... it's hard to pin down and they're hard to pin down, and that's why i love 'em, y'know? the variations on their dynamic is boundless, and so is their love, and so is their hijinks. they're not easily squeezed into an identifiable little box, and while i think that can trip some people up, i think it works to such a great strength with them. it's why i have trouble doing ask memes or drawing prompts with them (though i should try more!), because Dafpork Is Dafpork--they have minds and emotions and dispositions of their own and this blog functions to just sit back and observe what that all is, rather than force it. and that's how you get such a broad spectrum of Stuff, too; them being cute together, or being obnoxious, whether at each other or with each other, or they're not quite anything at all because the only one who knows what they are is each other. there's just truly so much and i really don't think it can be condensed into a bite sized trope or sweeping label.. and considering Daffy's anarchy and Porky's stubbornness, that feels very fitting. maybe it's a reason as to why it's difficult for some people to get on board with them, but i feel like it's such a great strength, and it's a great motivator to spread their gospel all the more, too! to try and get people to understand! so thank you for reading this, because if you're here then it shows you're curious and want to uncover more about them. me too!

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[langdonmels]

im just gonna slide in here real fast - if anyone has any short prompts they'd like to send me so i can write some quick little drabbles (less than 1k) to help kickstart the writing juices... please feel free to drop any little prompt, line, AU idea, song lyric, etc.