#happy 100 prompts!

[avvail]

prompt #100

“Are we fighting or fucking?” The hero grinned, their chest rising and falling jaggedly in an attempt to catch their breath. The villain had rolled ontop of them, hand closed around their throat, the other pinning their hands down above their head.

They winced, as equally out of breath as their enemy. “Hero, you broke my rib.”

“Okay? That doesn’t answer the question.”

[galaxy---ghost]

Halbarry Week Day 3: “…Wish you were here.”

[risingmoonyue]

During a case someone drugs Shinichi in an attempt to gain police secrets from him. All it really does is get him gushing about how much he loves Ran until he literally passes out.

[diamondsheep]

Happy Birthday to the Best Cook Ever 💛💛💛

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Friday: Trespasser

(From the poll: "In Which the Demolition Duo made it to the Wastelands without being banished because They Are Trespassing)

Damas was not, by and large, a religious man. He didn't worship Precursors -- there were some who insisted that his ousting from Haven was divine punishment for his arrogance -- nor spirits. If spirits could be killed, so could Precursors. That made them oracles, elders to be respected for unique perspectives on time, but not gods in Damas’s opinion.

Which made it an oddity to find him in the temple.

He sat on the shallow steps, staring up at the six carved heads meant to represent Precursors. More insectoid than Oracles, or perhaps just more elaborate. They seemed to wear headdresses over their bizarre masks.

"If you, by action or inaction, let Mar die, then at least have the decency to tell me," he whispered into the empty air.

"You always foretold a future moment of need that my House would answer. Has that need passed unnoticed that you stay silent while my bloodline ends? Or does my son live?"

The masks were silent, of course. Carved stone could neither hear nor speak.

Ungrateful wretches. Damas had a fleeting thought that perhaps they'd allowed -- or even orchestrated -- the abduction of his little son because he wasn't servile and "pious" enough for their tastes.

Damas wondered if spirits could harm Precursors. If perhaps the "Good Grandmother"*, She-Who-Hears-Them-Cry, might take an interest if something in this temple had been directly involved in bringing Mar to harm.

Má took her payment even from the hides of fellow spirits, after all.

"Even if you were capable of bringing him back unharmed, I very much doubt you would," Damas whispered harshly to the open air. His throat bobbed with a painful, bitter anger.

"But if you took him, you owe blood-debt to my House, old ones. So grant closure or sit in your realm knowing that I will seek answers among others as old as you."

Was it wise to threaten the Precursors? Damas neither knew nor cared anymore. Two years he'd barely survived having his heart metaphorically ripped out of his chest.

What more could they do to him? Really, what could they possibly do that could be worse than not knowing?

No answer arrived, not that it surprised him. Damas sighed and braced his elbows against his knees, head in his hands.

Stone grated against stone and metal to his left, and he turned his head swiftly.

There was a door there, one heavily fortified with traps. A hovering Sentinel eye kept watch for movement, designed to activate a spike trap if anyone tried to enter the lower levels without permission. And if someone managed to somehow get past that, the door would still be sealed. Whether by an enterprising ancestor of his or by meddling Precursors, that door could not be opened without an Heir of Mar. Damas was the only one who had ever been beyond it.

It should not have opened even an inch.

And yet Damas was witnessing the two mighty halves forcing themselves apart with a tortured groan born of idleness.

He was on his feet in an instant, ready for a fight. There was no chance that this heralded anything good.

"Whoa!"

That was a hu'men voice.

Damas’s hand hovered over his sidearm, ready to draw the moment he saw a face.

"And I thought this place was huge before!"

It was a young voice. High and a little squeaky.

"It just keeps going, doesn't it?" laughed a second voice, deeper, but just as young.

And then the doors were open wide enough to see the silhouette in between them.

And more importantly, to see the object glowing faintly in his outstretched fist.

Damas’s mouth was dry as he fumbled for the pouch between belt and leather armor where he kept his own amulet of Mar. He knew the shape by heart: twin comets orbiting each other, over stylized hands.

Thief-!

Pure, outraged, fury burned through his veins for a moment. Who had this scrawny figure stolen that amulet from? Heaven forbid it be Mar's amulet, lest Damas murder this boy before his very next step.

"Identify yourself!" Damas shouted, raising his gun.

The figure stepped into view. He was small, so thin his clothes hung loosely on scrawny limbs, but he held himself like a warrior.

"People!"

The animal curled around his shoulders sat upright and spoke.

"Jak! There's real people in here! We're saved!"

Odd reaction to a man pointing a gun at them.

The boy eased a step forward, hands raised as if soothing a frightened animal. He still held the incriminating amulet in his hand.

"Whoa, okay, put the gun down. I don't want to hurt anybody-"

He took a step too far and the sentinel flashed. The spikes shot up out of the floor with a faint shunk!

With a yelp, the boy leapt back -- he was surprisingly light on his feet for someone wearing boots two sizes too big. Then, as if the nearly fatal encounter was no more than a slight inconvenience, he backed up, got a running start, and launched.

He kicked off the wall, seeming to find handholds in the tiniest of crevices as he bypassed the spikes entirely.

Once on the ground again, the boy dusted himself off.

"You okay, Dax?"

"Just peachy, considering you almost dropped me!"

"Did not!" the hu'men boy protested in annoyance.

He really was small.

The general gangly sprawl of his limbs suggested he would gain an impressive height, but for now he just looked..small.

And entirely too excited.

"Who....do you- Where did you come from?" Damas demanded.

The boy pointed back down at the steps and shrugged before scratching his head.

"Exploring?"

Oh that green hair hurt to look at. It was filthy, and matted, like it hadn't been correctly washed in years. He couldn't even determine the age of the trespasser, what with the layers of grime embedded into every crevice of his face. The clothes were just as stained with sweat, dirt, and what looked to be bloodstains. From traps?

"Exploring."

Damas repeated the stranger's explanation incredulously. "How did you even get in here?"

The boy and the orange animal looked at each other for a curiously long moment. They seemed to be having a conversation merely by narrowing and widening their eyes in turn. Then, seeming to come to an agreement, they shrugged and turned back to face Damas.

The boy pointed down a barely visible flight of rough-hewn stone steps, lit by torches.

"We came up through the catacombs."

There were catacombs? He hadn't seen anything like that down there, and Damas liked to think he'd made it pretty far! He examined the stranger more closely, avoiding his eyes -- they're not familiar, you're just projecting your grief -- and avoiding looking at the talking weasel thing. He saw sunken cheeks drawn tightly against sharp cheekbones. A pale, barely visible scar across the bridge of his nose. Deep, deep shadows beneath his eyes. How large was the temple, altogether? Were there more people living below their feet?

"How...long were you down there?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Trust me pal," the weasel-rabbit said, "he smelled like this before we got in that zoomer."

"Hey!"

"What zoomer?!" Damas asked, feeling more confused than before.

"The one we took through the lava tube to the catacombs."

Damas was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow inhaled the monks' incense by accident.

The trespasser cringed as if only just noticing the bewildered and only barely softened hostility on Damas’s face. He shoved his amulet -- not his, it can't be his, there aren't any more of us left!*-- into his pocket and waved his hands placatingly.

Was there another Heir all this time? Is that why I was given no chance to protect Mar? Were my child and I expendable?

"Didn't mean to bother you," the kid apologized, "We'll just uh- huh. Actually, where are we?"

And then he looked to the door rather than Damas.

"Hey Oracle!" he shouted, and Damas was glad no monks were present to hear this and faint at the impertinance.

"Where the rot are we?"

Alright. This was now officially more of a problem than he'd first thought. Not even the monks were supposed to have found that Oracle down there.

One of the past Heirs who never inherited the throne had sealed it up the moment he discovered it long ago. After all, the discovery of light and dark eco being opposite poles of one energy might have thrown society into chaos and they didn't want to deal with the fallout. Even Damas was leery of reintroducing that knowledge outside of the Arena yet. Apparently this trespasser had no such thoughts.

He spoke to Oracles -- or pretended he did.

He held and used an amulet.

The boy was a mystery. And Damas hated not having the answers.

"You," Damas decided, wearing anger like a shield, "are coming with me. You have questions to answer."

The boy balked.

"No!"

He dodged before Damas could seize his arm, stumbling back amidst the columns.

"Uh-uh, I'm not falling for that."

"Falling for what?"

Damas was genuinely confused, and more than a little irritated.

The boy continued to back away.

"No, no I know how this goes. You're gonna take me back to the Haven Council, aren't you!"

*

"Haven?!" Damas sputtered, "Why the bleeding rot would I want to go there?! I'm taking you to my city!"

That didn't reassure the kid, who apparently was not fond of the leaders of Haven City.

Well, that was at least a bare minimum of common ground.

"You ain't takin us to no secondary location!" the orange one declared, pointing a skinny digit at Damas.

"The last time I got transported to a new place, I got kidnapped and experimented on for two years," his friend agreed.

Embleer Frith.

Damas stared at the boy. He squinted, as if that would give him insight into the unsettling response, then shook his head.

"You what?!"

What was he talking about? Experimented on?! That would explain the sudden shift from curiosity to distrust. But why-?

Damas knew. Deep down, he thought he knew.

If the boy was an Heir -- and he didn't even want to entertain the thought, but it had to be acknowledged as a possibility -- then that alone would be motive for someone like Praxis to torture even a young man -- or young boy?

If he was still obsessed with creating the ultimate war-sage, then an unclaimed and unattended Heir of Mar would be invaluable.

But if Praxis had been so focused on an older Heir, then perhaps it at least meant that he'd never gotten his hands on Mar.

That there was a stab of shame to follow that whisper of relief was an unsettling proof that he had not successfully hardened his heart as much as he'd thought.

"You came here from Haven?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

Thoughts of a breach in their defenses sickened him.

"And others will follow in pursuit of you?"

This time both trespassers scoffed.

"Only if they feel like sharpening their reaction time enough for a volcanic subrail," the hu'men said. He almost smiled.

The orange one nodded. "Jak here's the best driver there is! Also the most demolition-happy, but nobody's perfect."

Jak?

Now that was a name his spies had been mentioning a lot in their reports. An alleged juggernaut who had turned the Baron's own secret project against him and -- rumor had it -- even destroyed the metalhead nest.

Damas had been expecting someone a little...older.

* the "Good Grandmother" Damas is referencing is a spirit I made up for the Wasteland called Má Crocadeer. Fairly grisly figure with a crocadeer skull wreathed in flowers for a head, and a crocadeer's legs and tail. Her purpose is to punish those who deliberately cause or inflict harm on children. There's a lot of people in Haven who should avoid the desert for this reason.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

CONGRATS ON HUNDRED DOVE!! you sent me a risqué ask for 100 so now i do it back to ye-

"caught in the rain" with leona :D or ruggie, if someone got to him first! ehehehehehehhehehehe you can see stuff 😳👀 for free ✨✨✨

btw your ask is sending me so hard but i'm already typing out so much for leona so your ask is gonna be the last one for the event lol

Caught in the Rain; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader needs to get bonked with a stick (/j)

Content Warning; Swearing

Word Count; 700+

AN; Don't expose my ass on my own blog, Soru /j. (just trying to feed your own simping along with the simps) But I hope you enjoy what I wrote for Leona and this prompt! As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The sky lay heavy with dark clouds, the smell of rain thick in the air, yet not a single drop had yet to strike the ground. The air was dense with humidity, warm from the harsh sun’s rays from earlier in the day. But yet, you found yourself outside, trying to find Leona.

He had invited you to spend your summer break as his guest in the palace. Well, less so 'invited', more so demanded.

“Do you have anywhere else to be, herbivore? I thought as much. Come on, you’re staying with me.”

You still don’t really know why, but you weren’t going to throw away the chance of staying someplace beyond nice for the summer… plus Leona wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. Yes, he puts on an act of not caring, and being abrasive, but you knew that he cared, that he worried. Also, the two of you had been having this back-and-forth banter for months; blurring the lines of just friends bickering and something... more. But neither of you had made a move. It just hung in the air between you, nearly as suffocating as the humidity now; potent with the possibility of a massive storm.

Back to the present though. You were on the outskirts of the palace, looking for wherever Leona had decided to take a nap for this afternoon.

“Leona,” you called, but all you heard in return was the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Where is that overgrown house cat? I swear if I get caught in a downpour because of him… “LEONA!”

The first drops of rain began to fall, gentle and sparse. But you knew full well that in a few minutes' time they would be falling hard and fast.

“LEONA KINGSCHOLAR?!” You shouted at the top of your lungs.

You heard an annoyed huff of air off to your left, and looking up you saw none other than Leona lounging in the low-hanging branches of a tree.

“Ya don’t need to yell, ya know,” he sighed, landing softly on the ground. He looked up to the sky and frowned before setting a slow pace back to the palace. “Are you coming or what, herbivore?”

You followed after him, catching up so the both of you were going at a comfortable pace. Thunder was still rumbling, and the rain was slowly picking up, but there was no rush. Well, there wasn’t any rush until there was a flash of lightning and it seemed like the entire sky’s worth of water came down all at once on the both of you.

“Shit,” Leona hissed and guided the both of you to the relative cover of a tree to wait out the worst of the monsoon. “Just our luc-” He stopped talking when he looked at you though.

You were spitting out some stray rainwater that had managed to get into your mouth. But once the intruding water was gone you looked over to him but you felt your eyes lock on his torso; the white shirt that he was wearing was now completely see-through and you could see everything. Stop staring! Damn though- STOP STARING! But your eyes refused to move.

Leona noticed this, and he also took in your drenched appearance but was more subtle with it. “Tch,” he tapped you on the nose, breaking you of your staring stupor. “My eyes are up here,” his voice was teasing though, light.

You snapped out of it, catching his mirthful eyes. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper. You felt your face grow warm at the slip of your tongue, but it was true. Even before you openly ogled at him, you always thought that, but never said it to his face.

Leona chuffed, but he didn’t say anything; neither denying or accepting your statement. “You aren’t half bad yourself,” he said softly.

The two of you sat underneath the tree, still in your soaked clothes, watching the rain fall together in a comfortable quiet. And while the first golden rays of sunlight may have been stunning, the both of you thought it was nothing when compared to the captor of your hearts; each other.

After all, you still had the rest of the summer to build on this new development.

[mangysah]

Talks Over Tea 🍵

— My recipient for @mp100secretspirit is @abovo-adastra! 🎁

— He had requested for Serizawa & Teru bonding, and so I made them talk with each other in the S&S office. :) They could be catching up with one another, and Teru’s telling him all about his and Reigen’s recent spirit case. I wish to have drawn the other prompts too since they seemed so fun, but I still hope you liked this one! Happy holidays and I wish you a good new year as well. 🎊

+ Ver. w/o speech bubbles

[willwriteforhugs]

when a character was naturally a goofy and light-hearted person their entire lives but as they grew up they got more and more damaged by the world and by their own grief and it became harder and harder to be the one smiling. and yet they force themselves to stay funny and stay light-hearted but over time it progressively becomes something they do consciously and intentionally to both relieve and manipulate their loved ones . ohohohohohoho

[dawnquafam]

“Are you afraid of me?” “Yeah. I mean, kinda. Definitely.” For Stephen & Mera

Enjoy 2.2k words of Stephen being a bundle of anxiety and Mera being a supportive future sister-in-law!

Time ceased to matter when Stephen was with Orm. Lying on a blanket in the lighthouse’s front yard, he talked and talked, one arm wrapped around Orm’s back while the other hand gestured emphatically. Any of his exes would have fallen asleep or asked him to stop by now, particularly when he ranted about Atlantis, but Orm listened attentively to every word he said about every topic that crossed his mind, his head pillowed on his shoulder and his leg draped over his thighs, occasionally offering a thoughtful question that set him off on an entirely new tangent. The only idle thing about him was the way his hand traced random patterns across his stomach, alternately wrinkling and smoothing his shirt, the softest touch from someone who could crush steel without batting an eye. Stephen talked from broad daylight to sundown, his boyfriend’s warmth keeping the cooling temperature at bay, and his attention never wavered.

Orm listening to him like this wasn’t new, but everything else – the relationship, the cuddling, spending time like this with someone who cared – very much was, and he never wanted it to end.

The front door creaked open, footsteps crossing the porch. “Hello, lovebirds.”

Time slammed back into full speed. He and Orm both jumped, but while Orm’s clenched fist immediately relaxed upon realizing it was Mera, Stephen’s entire body tensed. He sat bolt upright, guilt twisting in his stomach when the movement very abruptly dislodged his very comfortable boyfriend. “Um, hi, Mera,” he greeted.

Orm shot him a wounded look, but there was concern beneath the indignation. Mera stopped in her tracks. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Totally fine, yup, why wouldn’t it be?” he responded, barely suppressing a wince at how blatantly awkward it sounded. Which wasn’t exactly unusual for him, but he didn’t want his rambling mouth to betray his nerves right now. Though it’s far too late for that.

Mera arched her eyebrow, predictably seeing straight through the forced cheerfulness. Orm did, too, and Stephen didn’t miss them sharing one of their silent conversations about it. She glanced at her best friend, and he tore his gaze away from Stephen to subtly shake his head in response. Frowning, she tilted her chin towards the lighthouse, and Orm nodded. “I’m going to make us some sandwiches.”

Stephen’s heart sank when he started to sit up, a chill already creeping across him where he had lain. “You don’t have to,” he tried, almost reaching for his hand to pin him in place until he remembered that Mera was watching. He withdrew his hand before they could touch, heart aching when Orm’s hand closed around empty air.

“You said you were hungry a little while ago,” he answered through visible disconcertion. He glanced at Stephen’s cheek, clearly wanting to kiss him, but Stephen couldn’t make himself lean in for his usual invitation, and Orm didn’t push him. “I won’t be long.”

“Ok,” he mumbled, looking away to avoid the confusion in his eyes as he stood. I swear I’m not trying to push you away, he wanted to say, but no words made it out of his throat.

With one last glance at both of them, Orm headed inside. Mera took his place before Stephen could even think about protesting, sitting down in one graceful motion. “I could be diplomatic about this,” she said, “or we could skip straight to the whale in the room.”

Wishing, for far from the first time, that he had even a shred of her poise under pressure, Stephen hoped that his attempt to shuffle slightly away just looked like he was getting comfortable. “There’s no whale,” he lied feebly.

“Not when I first stepped outside,” she allowed. “You were as happy as could be. Until you heard me.”

He ducked his head, unable to argue. She was a born and raised politician who had lived a lifetime in secrecy, trained from childhood to observe even the tiniest of details about everyone around her – of course she had noticed his timing. “It’s ridiculous,” he mumbled.

“Arthur insisting that the president might be Atlantean solely because he looks similar to Orm is ridiculous,” Mera said. “Whatever this is… is not.” She paused, considering him, smoothing the fabric around her thigh with fidgeting fingers. “Are you afraid of me?”

A million judgmental stares flashed through his mind, a lifetime of seeing the exact moment everyone around him mentally wrote him off as ludicrous at best or insane at worst. A lifetime of struggling to make relationships work, of fighting tooth and nail not to be himself long enough to get to the meeting the family stage of a relationship, only to see the crushing disapproval in the eyes of the few people he did manage to get introduced to the second they recognized him. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I mean, kinda. Definitely.”

She furrowed her brows. “Why?”

“It’s not… I mean, it’s…” He sighed, taking his glasses off to scrub a hand down his face. “It’s not you, exactly. It’s- it’s all of you, but it’s not… it’s not really any of you, either. I’m just- I’m not really used to my boyfriends’ families… liking me.”

And they were just normal people, he added to himself. Not… the Atlantean royal family.

“We’ve all been rooting for this relationship for the better part of the last two years,” she reminded him. “You two were the last ones to notice your feelings. Arthur and Tom are the ones who talked Orm into realizing he’s queer in the first place.”

“I know,” Stephen said wearily. “I know it makes no sense. You guys have been there for me since Antarctica, and it’s not like any of you are going to think I’m crazy for believing in Atlantis. It’s just…” He put his glasses back on. “I’m a scientist. I like patterns and data. And my entire dating history… is a lot of data forming one big pattern. Recognizing that far sooner than I actually did could’ve saved me a lot of heartbreak.”

“Allowing old data to scare you now would only cause more heartbreak,” she pointed out gently. “Patterns can always be broken under the right circumstances, and you have those here. We all do. Just about everyone in that lighthouse has broken one or two in their lives, and we have no intention of stopping now. You became part of this family well before you officially began dating Orm. We’re not going to suddenly turn our backs on you simply because everyone else made that mistake.”

“You say that now,” Stephen muttered, anxiety bleeding out as bitterness, as the twisted pain that had built walls around his heart for so long. It had taken a lifetime of agonizing rejection after agonizing rejection, but he had finally learned to push people away in the end. David had been the first exception in a long time, and everyone knew how that went. He had nearly forgotten how it felt to put those walls up when dating Orm was no more than a wild fantasy, but now… “Everyone changes their mind at some point.”

“No.” She laid her hand on his arm, catching his eye. “You saved my son, Stephen.”

“I sent a message,” he said with a shrug. “Two years ago.”

“You sent a message that no one else could send,” she said firmly. “And you were nearly killed trying to protect him on your own until we could get there. Every moment that I’ve had with my son for the last two years has been because of you, and every moment after this will be the same. The gratitude I feel for that will stay with me until my dying breath. We are together because of you, and the least I can do in return is approve of you dating my best friend.”

He searched her expression, looking for the lie, looking for the doubt that had shadowed his every relationship. “You really do?”

“I do,” she assured him. “We do. You’re kind, intelligent, and brave. The two of you make each other happy, and you trust each other in ways neither of you trust anyone else. We would be fools not to continue welcoming you into his life and our family.”

“Even though I’m not a prince?” he asked, the silent insecurity slipping out, tinged by the desperate need to believe her. “Or a warrior? Or anyone special who can keep him safe when the Fishermen come looking for him?”

“I was a princess and I didn’t deserve him.” Old guilt haunted her eyes until she blinked it away. “Just as he became a king who did not deserve me. He can protect himself, and when he cannot, that is why we’re here. If he cared that you can’t do for him what we can, then he wouldn’t feel so safe in your arms. It matters far more to all of us that you are one of the very few people in his life who has never hurt him.” She squeezed his shoulder, letting the words sink in before she continued. “You do not need a title to be noble or superpowers to be strong – those are qualities that only mean anything when they are found in your heart, and you have a good one, Stephen. That is what makes you special. That is why we will always want you here.”

There was no hesitation in her voice, no reservation in her touch. Her words didn’t reek of false pleasantries, of the pressing need to tell Orm to dump him the second he stepped out of earshot. She really meant what she was saying. Maybe David did go horribly wrong, he conceded slowly. But it landed me here, didn’t it?

Hope dared to bloom where once there had only been despair. Stephen looked over her shoulder when the front door creaked open again, and she followed his gaze to Orm, heading back to them with a couple plates in his hands. “Cuddle with him all you want, Stephen,” she told him. “Gods know you both deserve it.”

He learned to lower his walls to get us this far, he thought, remembering the withdrawn, touch-averse man who had first moved in with him. If I want this to work – and I want nothing more than that – then… it’s my turn now.

Orm paused a short distance away, head tilted in question. Stephen nodded, and his shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he resumed walking. The same relief escaped him in a heavy breath, the same weight lifting from his own shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmured to Mera.

“I’m always here if you need to talk.” She leaned in, and Stephen thought she was going for a cheek kiss until her eyes started to glow, ominous in the fading daylight. “Never forget, though,” the queen whispered, a mischievous smile softening her words, “that I am still his best friend. If you break his heart, I will break you.”

“Don’t worry.” It was far more foreboding than any of the stiffly polite conversations his exes’ families had exchanged with him, but his answering smile was easy and reassured. “He’s safe with me.”

And I’m safe with him. With… our family.

She sat back, content. “Good.”

“Stop threatening him,” Orm said, reaching them in time to catch her teasing. “And get out of my spot. Please,” he added grumpily when she didn’t move.

She sprang lightly to her feet, stealing a chip off his plate. He frowned but didn’t protest, handing the plates to Stephen before sitting down, still not quite as graceful on land as she was. Happily crunching her stolen chip, she headed off for her regular evening swim, and Orm asked him, “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” He set the plates aside and cupped Orm’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I got weird.”

“It’s all right.” He leaned into Stephen’s touch. “Weird is normal in this family.”

“True enough,” Stephen said with a laugh. “Come here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed him gladly, and Stephen savored the combined hint of salt and taste of Atlantean heat that had quickly become one of his favorite things in the world. The last traces of bitterness and fear melted away at the touch of his lips, as loving here in front of his family’s house as he was in the privacy of their apartment, a far cry from the sudden uncomfortable distance his exes had shown when they took him home. He even savored the pulling away, breaking apart just enough to breathe, because it was his choice, just as it always was, and Orm lingered just as he always did, staying close where everyone else had only pulled away.

Maybe that was all the proof I should’ve needed that this time is different.

“You do know that I would protect you from her, right?” Orm asked, their noses still brushing, his hands on his waist, his fingers curled into his shirt.

“I know that you would try,” Stephen said. “But we both know that you can’t beat her in a fight. Or during game night.”

He pouted. “I defeated her at Monopoly once.”

Stephen shook his head fondly, kissing him again and instantly wiping away the adorable pouting. He pulled his boyfriend back down to the blanket, the sandwiches entirely forgotten, caring only about holding on to him and never letting go, regardless of who might see them.

[amazinglyegg]

Danse eats sushi with a fork

[allthatmay]

"ask, prompt, or infodump?" so do you accept prompts? any prompts? if so, could you do a shanks+ace modern meet cute?

Oh, good question! I should probably write a post or something about it, but yes, I will happily accept prompts. I'd prefer they be within one of my favoured fandoms [OP, FF7, Naruto], but I'll give anything a go once, so you can always ask!

Having said that... Give me all the prompts!  ৻(•̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

Sorry this took me so long to get done, but here's your Shanks/Ace meet cute! Thanks @chromotps for the setting; it was just so cute, I couldn't help myself.

It's not that Ace avoids becoming attached to the children he looks after, it's simply that he knows he shouldn't; that they'll grow up and move on while he's left holding them in his heart. There's been a few kids Ace has gotten just a little bit too fond of, and every time, he swears it's the last. Luffy might simply be the latest in the chain, but he's also, by far, the one Ace has cared for the most.

"C'mon, buddy. We've gotta find your shoes, or your dad won't be able to pick you up, will he?"

Trying to convince Luffy to do anything is a dangerous affair, unless one has food at the ready. The kid's prone to biting. Some people find it concerning, but it only endears him to Ace, who was an assertive child himself—to put it mildly.

"Dunno where they are," Luffy says petulantly. "Guess I'll stay with you, Ace!"

Ace shakes his head, biting back a smile. He crouches low in front of Luffy, holding out a hand that Luffy takes. "I've gotta go home, squirt."

"So I'll go with you!"

"But what about your dad? I bet he wants to see you!"

Luffy hesitates, worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he looks up, excitement shining through his big, brown eyes, and says, "Then you should come home with us!"

A funny noise slips from Ace, which doesn't go unnoticed by Makino, who's been not-so-subtly eavesdropping from the doorway. She starts snickering into one of her hands but quickly straightens up when Ace cuts her a glance, returning her attention to the reuniting families outside.

"Aw, well, you know I love spending time with you, buddy..."

Luffy nods emphatically. His grin is missing a tooth. "Ace is great!"

"So are you, Luffy! But I can't come home with you. It wouldn't be right."

"Oh." Luffy's lip curls out into a big, wet pout. "Why not?"

"Well... Because I don't know your dad, buddy. And I bet he wants you all to himself!"

Luffy bursts into giggles when Ace tickles at his sides, all signs of sadness vanishing from his cherubic face.

"Okay," he says, although there's a determined line to his brow that raises Ace's suspicions. "Wait here!"

"Hold on, Luffy, your shoes—!"

Luffy, sans shoes, barrels past Makino and out into the playground where the parents are congregating, waiting to sign their children out. Instead of chasing after him, Ace starts the cleaning up, throwing pillows back in their places, returning pencils to their box. He's digging through the ball-pit—a likely hiding spot for Luffy’s shoes—when Luffy returns, announcing his arrival with, "Dad! Dad! This is Ace!"

Aw, shit. Ace has never been great at the 'meeting the parents' part; it's why he handles cleaning up while Makino manages parental pick-up. Still, for Luffy’s sake, he turns around with his most dazzling smile at the ready, throwing a stray ball over his shoulder.

"That's me!” he says, extending a hand in welcome. "I’m Portgas D. Ace. Nice to meet ya."

It turns out that Ace’s best smile pales in comparison to the one in front of him. Luffy's father has a certain crookedness to his lips that tells of mischief, with a small scar on his bottom lip that begs for attention—the pretty bait to a lethal trap, perhaps. Tanned skin is haloed by a head of fierce red hair, and yet it's his eyes that hook Ace in. They're as full of life as the warm, spring earth. Hard to look away from.

"The pleasure's mine," he says. He takes Ace's hand with easy movements. The smile lines around his eyes deepen, as does the fuzzy feeling in Ace's stomach. "I'm Shanks. Luffy's father."

"No kidding." Ace grins back. Before their hands release, Shanks' thumb slips across his, leaving a lasting sensation. Ace, to cover his abashment, crouches in front of Luffy. "So, Luffy, you gonna tell me where you hid your shoes, buddy?"

Luffy grabs his dad's trouser leg, playing innocent. "I dunno. Are you gonna come home with us?"

"Hmm..." Ace pretends to think about it, ignoring how hot his face suddenly feels. "Sorry, buddy, I can't. But I'll see you tomorrow, you know!"

"But you said that you'd come with me if you met my dad!"

"That's not—" Ace glances up at Shanks, who hasn't stopped grinning. "That's not quite what I said, buddy."

Luffy immediately looks to Shanks. "Dad! Tell Ace to come over!"

"We're not going anywhere without your shoes," Shanks says. He hoists Luffy up into his arms, who laughs. "Hot or cold, kiddo?"

"Cold!"

"Hm..." Shanks walks Luffy closer to the bean bags. "Hot or cold?"

"Hotter..."

Ace watches the two of them go over this a few times until, eventually, Shanks finds the shoes tucked inside the toy box. He gives them to Luffy then swings him up onto the table, kneeling in front of him.

"Alright, kiddo, left foot first. No kicking this time."

Ace can't help but laugh. Shanks glances at him, smiling, as he slides Luffy's foot into his trainer.

"There we go. Pull it tight. Great! Next one, Anchor."

"Anchor?" Ace asks.

Shanks gets Luffy's other shoe on, then helps him jump down from the table. "Oh yeah. Luffy's struggling to swim. Aren't ya, kiddo?"

"Not for long! I'm gonna beat the water!"

"Beat the water?" Ace repeats, starting to feel like a parrot. He can't help but laugh, warmed by Luffy's determination. "Well, I'll be sure to warn the oceans, buddy. Want to say bye to Makino?"

"Yeah!" Luffy looks at Ace, then his dad. "Stay here! Right here!"

"Cross my heart," Shanks teases.

They both watch Luffy run over to Makino, who looks down at him with a warm smile. She won't admit it, but she also has a soft spot for Luffy. Why else would she ensure he gets a space in her daycare every summer? But next year he'll be big enough to go somewhere else entirely...

"Makino used to be his favourite, you know."

Ace blinks, surprised to find Shanks is looking at him, not his son. The attention makes his toes wriggle in his boots.

"Used to be? Naw, Luffy loves Makino!"

"Oh? But I haven't heard about Makino in weeks. It's all about Ace and his super cool dragon drawings."

"Well, I do draw some pretty cool dragons."

"Among your many other talents, I’m sure.” Shanks winks. “He’s pinned them up around his bedroom, you know. You've got him wrapped around your finger."

"Really? Feels like the other way around."

"He does have a way with people. Something I hope he gets from me."

“He's got to get it from somewhere."

"Suppose I could test it." Shanks' grin is positively wolfish. "See if I can’t get you wrapped around my finger, as well."

Ace swallows, feeling hot under Shanks' unrelenting gaze. He looks from Shanks' twinkling eyes to his smooth, rose lips—and that damn scar of his, only visible in the sunlight—then back again. It's been a while since he's been hit on so obviously, and by someone so handsome. He flounders for a response, all too aware of his pinkening ears.

"I dunno. You're not as cute as Luffy."

"Cute's not really my style."

"I'll say," Ace mutters.

Shanks, his smile growing, steps in closer. “You, though? Very cute. Cute enough to eat.”

“‘Cute?’ I take Krav Maga.”

“Oh, so you’re cute and dangerous. And in such a pretty package.”

Ace laughs. “Wow, you’re an incorrigible flirt, aren’t you?”

“Truth be told, it’s been months since I’ve had a date.”

“What?” Ace regards Shanks from head to toe, from his silly sandals and floral pants to the loose fit of his shirt. “Months? But you’re—I mean—”

“Not cute?”

They stare at each other, equally silenced. Shanks’ smile slowly returns.

“Let me take you to dinner this weekend. Or to your Krav Maga class. Pottery, even. Whatever you like, I don’t care.”

“Really winning me over,” Ace snarks, like it isn’t the truth. “I’m covering a shift at my old job this weekend. Lifeguarding. We could do something after.”

“Oh? And Luffy just so happens to be struggling to swim.” Shanks digs into his pocket, retrieving his phone. “How about we hang around for an hour after you’re done? Give him some lessons. Grab some food.”

Ace is surprisingly touched by the offer. He tilts forward on his toes, glancing over at Luffy, who’s started saying goodbye to his friends as well. “You’d… really want that? What would Luffy think?”

“Something along the lines of, ‘Wow! Ace is here! Maybe he can draw me another dragon!’”

Ace rolls his eyes, grinning. “Alright, if you say so. Give me your phone.”

Shanks almost throws it at Ace in his haste to pass it over, and Ace has to bite down on his lip to stop his laughter from resurfacing. He’s just finished punching in his number when Luffy comes bounding back toward them, beaming.

“Dad! Let’s go! I’m hungry!”

“Alright, kiddo,” Shanks says. He takes his phone back with a wink, tucking it into his pocket. “But don’t you wanna say bye to Ace first?”

Luffy’s eyes widen. He rushes forward, wrapping his arms around Ace’s hips. “Bye, Ace! I’ll miss you!”

Ace puts his hand atop Luffy’s head. “Bye, squirt. I’ll see you soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“Nu–uh!”

Shanks takes Luffy’s hand when it’s extended toward him, then looks back at Ace. His smile pulls at the scar on his lip. “Bye, Ace,” he mirrors. “I’ll miss you!”

Heart stuttering, Ace scoffs, though the effect is weakened by the reddening of his face. “You’ll see me soon, too.”

“I’ll call you sooner,” Shanks returns. “Come on, Luffy. Spaghetti for dinner.”

“Yes!” Luffy runs toward the door, almost toppling poor Makino over. “Come on, Dad! Spaghetti!”

Shanks, grinning, shrugs at Ace. “Spaghetti,” he echoes, then follows in Luffy’s footsteps, disappearing from sight.

As soon as he’s gone, Ace sits on the side of the ballpit, knees weak. He feels like he's just gotten off a rollercoaster, and he must look it, if the way Makino is giggling is any indication.

"So,” she starts, a hand to her mouth. “Got any nice weekend plans?”

“Not another word, Makino. Not another word.”

[akalegos]

Date

[emimayooo]

“Marry me.” for galeheart

Helloooooo🤩!!! Thank you so much for sending in this prompt, for galeheart, no less! They are my OTP after all hehe🥰❤️❤️❤️

(I'm taking writing prompts!)

“Marry me.” Say she says yes. Then what? She moves to Waterdeep to call a tower a home. Then what? She takes on his name and becomes Mrs—Jenevelle? Shadowheart?—Dekarios. Then what? Children, maybe, though it’s unlikely. But Morena wants grand-babies, and what else can Shadowheart offer, other than her body? No name, no wealth, no dowry, no family; only that, she could make from bloodying and breaking. She could, so she should. She’d be good at it, too. Pain’s her strong suit. It’d be a giving, not a taking. For once, she could give. So she says yes.

[farming-for-affection]

Farm Date Ideas Prompt List

Country Life - Getting to see the things you can't see in the city. Sometimes you can only know someone when no one else is around.

Stargazing in the bed of a pickup

(Really anything in the bed of a pickup)

Tour of the back country (Dirt Bikes? One or two?)

Horseback riding

Rowboat on a River

Rustic Comfort - Not a lot of conveniences in the country, so sometimes you have to make due. Get rid of the dust and grime, and relax a little!

Rustic Spa Date (wooden tub? Candles? Natural hot spring?"

Mountainside Picnic

Swimming in a river / lake with no one else around

Candlelit Dinner

Competitions - Have either of them done this before? Is one significantly better than the other? Who wins? Who lets the other win?)

Axe Throwing

Fishing

Barrel racing

A night on the town - because sometimes you just got to go down to the town's one stoplight and interact in front of other people

Line dancing in a bar

Or line dancing lessons!

A dinner out

[spikes-jonze]

I love your friends, they're so arty

[okmcintyre]

💕 happy valentine's day @dustinswill "they were secretly dating during season 1" au