#prompt week four

[kyuyua]

My cyberpunky Joel design 🌸

Seven Holy Nights of Jeremy (Joel Week) Day 4: Diverging Paths

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember.

Pledge

Week #4 Prompt: Loud and Breeding Kink | Word Count: 1841 | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Recreational Weed Use | Tags: AU, Established Relationship, Frat Steve, Shotgunning, Anal Sex, Light Breeding Kink, Role Playing

They rock together in a soft, slow grind. 

There's no rush. No hurry. Nothing but each other. Nobody's chasing anything, as they share breath, lips brushing. It's intense. But, it always is. Tonight, Eddie's eyes are so close to his, looking right into him. Knowing him more than anyone else ever has before.

Steve feels stripped naked, even as he's, well, stripped naked.

Closer. He needs to be closer, so Steve tightens his legs around Eddie's hips, scooting upwards, until his dick is rubbing against Eddie's stomach. It feels good, everything feels so fucking good right now that he closes his eyes, and tilts his head back. 

Eddie chases after him, lips brushing against his throat as he brings his hips up and down, sliding deeper into Steve in a slow, enticing slide.

Steve lets out a moan that sounds loud, even to his own ears. Shit.

He's supposed to be quiet. He promised he would be. Could be.

But that was before Eddie's body was all over his own. Before Eddie had slid right inside him, like that's where he was always meant to be.

The frat party is still raging below, but the odds of anyone hearing them over the music and other chaos is slim.

But there's no reason to risk it.

The lock on the door is iffy at best, and Steve scooted his dresser in front of the closed door, but if it fails, that won't buy them a whole lot of time.

Even knowing all that, Steve still can't help it, can't contain himself, as he lets out a groan that he can feel deep in his chest.

"Sssh," Eddie says, and Steve's trying. He's been trying. He really has. All night. But it's been so long since they've been able to do this. Too many people around, too many obligations that Steve can't ever manage to sneak away from. 

It's always torture to see Eddie across a room, but being unable to just have him all to himself. 

Tonight though, tonight is Steve's.

And when Eddie nails his prostate dead-on with precision, Steve keens.

"Harrington," Eddie warns.

Steve covers his own mouth with both hands, clamping down, squeezing his fingers into his cheeks, but he still arches his back higher. Wanting more. And as he gains more clearance between his ass and the sheets, Eddie grins at the opportunity he's been given. He reaches underneath Steve, and slaps him on the ass, making Steve giggle from beneath his sweaty palms.

"I can keep you quiet," Eddie assures, and leans forward, picking up the lighter and the half-smoked joint from the ashtray. He lights it, takes another hit, holding the smoke in as he reaches down, prying Steve's hands off his face. Then he closes his mouth over Steve's, letting the smoke waft from his mouth into Steve's.

Finally Eddie pulls back, intently watching as Steve holds it in for as long as he can, before exhaling it out through his nose.

"Goddamn," Eddie says, putting the ashtray back down so he can grip Steve's hips. "You know what that does to me."

Of course Steve knows what works on Eddie, and he grins, pleased with himself.

Eddie leans forward, asking in a hushed whisper, "You're just asking for it tonight, aren't you?"

And he is. 

He is, he is, he is.

And this change in angle is goddamn perfect, forcing out a long, desperate whine.

"Steven Harrington," Eddie admonishes, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Fuck me. Come in me," Steve answers, as if that were the question Eddie was posing. 

Eddie laughs, "Like I already said, you are just asking for it tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am. Because I need it."

"Where do you need it?" Eddie asks, and Steve knows he's playing with him, because he knows him better than anyone else on earth.

"In me, in me," Steve whines, fisting the sheets under him, begging for it. Begging for anything Eddie wants to give him. 

And he hopes Eddie will give him everything he can.

"What do you want in you?" Eddie asks, lips brushing against his ear, his voice low.

"You," Steve says, "your cock, your come."

"You want me to breed you?"

Steve's dick jumps, more precum helping to slick the way as the head of his cock rubs against the coarse hair on his belly. On Eddie's. Trapped between both of them.

"Oh, you like that idea," Eddie says, and fuck yes he does. 

Eddie keeps talking, "I'll keep doing it until it takes. Until we can show everybody you're mine."

Steve nods, "I'm yours. I want to be yours."

But then Eddie leans back, sliding out of him, and that's the exact opposite of what Steve wanted. 

He doesn't have time to complain about it, as Eddie manhandles him over onto his knees, and Steve feels his head jerk back a little as Eddie uses a hand to smooth back Steve's sweaty, damp hair off of his forehead, before he's cinching a baseball cap down onto Steve's head, backwards. The plastic snap adjuster strip is digging into Steve's forehead as Eddie pulls it down, tight.

Steve wants to collapse, wants to grind down into the sheets that he knows he's dripping all over. But there's no time for that. Eddie doesn't allow it before he's back inside Steve. Fucking him hard now. For real. Chasing his orgasm so he can come right in Steve.

Giving Steve what he wants.

Now, Steve's just along for the ride, and he's a-okay with that. Most definitely. He feels like he's been balancing on the knife's edge forever, and he thinks he could probably come untouched, just like this, Eddie fucking him so goddamn good.

He's always down to get fucked, and hard, by Eddie. Because he's learned there's nothing better. Nothing more satisfying, or grounding.

It's so easy to get lost in the feeling of it, so easy to nearly float away with the pleasure, but Steve hears Eddie's tell-tale groan, hips snapping one more time as he comes inside Steve, saying, "There. Take what you wanted from me."

And maybe he should be embarrassed, but that's when Steve comes all over the bed below.

There's no time to even breathe around that though, because Eddie immediately pulls out, and then replaces his cock with his fingers. Shoving them deep into Steve, "Yeah. I'll keep it all in you. Don't worry."

Steve nods, he never worries when he's with Eddie. Especially not right now, while Eddie's acting as a makeshift plug as best he can, keeping his come inside Steve.

And they stay that way for a while, Steve on his knees, Eddie leaning over his back, fingers buried deep, until Steve starts to feel it. His heartbeat is throbbing in his ass, clinched around Eddie's fingers, and he finally says, "Okay. I'm calling it."

Eddie's fingers slide free, and Steve feels open, and kind of hollow, but he knows all good things must come to an end. At least temporarily.

He feels the bed shake as Eddie climbs off of it, feet padding towards the door.

"Did you really have to move the dresser?" Eddie asks, trying to pick it up to get it away from the door, but his hands keep slipping, and he's making no progress.

"Just scoot it," Steve suggests.

"And scratch the hardwood floor? No fucking thanks," Eddie complains, still trying to pick it up, unsuccessfully with his slick hands.

"You're the one that wanted to play frat boy and the big, bad drug dealer tonight. So, I just added to the reality," Steve answers.

Eddie is the one that wanted to go back in time, back to how they met. Back to how they fell in love, before they grew up.

Now, Eddie is waving his hands towards the floor, dramatically.

"Emptying all the dresser drawers seems a little unnecessary," Eddie adds.

"Do you not recall what a frat house bedroom actually looked like?" Steve questions, eyebrow quirked as he watches Eddie try to figure out what his next move is.

"Well, the dresser and the clothes are definitely adding to the reality of me not being able to exit our bedroom to get to the bathroom," Eddie snarks back, trying to grip the back and side of the wooden dresser with both hands. "And now it's got come and lube fingerprints all over it."

"That's what Pledge is for," Steve banters, tucking his hands behind his head, backwards cap still on his head, so he can watch the rest of this show. It's his favorite one. Has been for years now. Eddie working himself into a lather, getting revved up, for no real reason.

All that big personality shining through.

"Pledge or pledges?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs. There aren't any pledges in their house, they are both long past college age, even if they don't always feel that way. But there is some furniture polish under the sink. At least, he assumes there is, it's not like he's used it recently.

"Pledge. With a capital P."

Then, to Steve's horror, Eddie bends down and grabs a shirt, Steve's shirt, from the floor and wipes his hands.

"Hey! That was still clean!" Steve hollers, but knows he had that coming. Big time.

"Well, it was on the floor," Eddie banters back, arms waving, before finally getting the dresser picked up, and away from the door. 

Steve watches him go, bare ass illuminated by the nightlight in the hallway of their house. Their perfect house that they've made into their home.

It doesn't take long before Eddie's back, warm washcloth in hand, and Steve is stunned when it hits him square in the chest with a wet splat.

"Uh, rude!" Steve snaps, picking it up, pinched between two fingers.

"Oh, was the frat house fantasy already over?" Eddie goads, and then places a knee on the bed, leaning over Steve, pressing his lips to Steve's, and taking the washcloth from his hand. "Let me take care of you then, princess."

"Well, I'd say. That's more like it," Steve says in his best haughty voice, but rolls over onto his belly, avoiding the wet spot they'll still have to deal with before bed. 

Then Steve giggles.

"You're stoned, aren't you?" Eddie asks, but doesn't wait for an answer, "Goddamn, Harrington, you're such a lightweight these days."

"I have to work on Monday," Steve answers. "I have to teach children, Eddie." Because he does. He can't be stoned for that, legal weed or not.

Eddie presses his cheek to Steve's back, "You'll be fine by Monday, sweetheart. Nobody will ever know what Mr. Harrington does in his free time."

"You think?" Steve asks.

"I do," Eddie answers, gently removing Steve's hat, and Steve buries his face into his pillow, smiling as Eddie brushes Steve's damp hair off the back of his neck, saying "But until then, I'll take care of you."

And Eddie, his husband, his love, his damn whole world, does just that.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesmuttyseptember to follow along with the filth! 💦

[jojo-schmo]

Metadede Week Day 4: Swap

I got a little.... ambitious with this one and needed to split it in two hahaha. The ideas just kept coming uncontrollably!!

I gave them a Parallel/Clone/Non-specific hostile alternate version of themselves to fight here. Happens a lot in the games, huh? What would happen if these two had to utilize the others' weapon? Dedede's is just a powerful and large hammer, but Galaxia is a sword with many special properties...

This scenario is going off of my theory that Dedede is an excellent conductor of the elements- which is why he often utilizes the elements around him in boss battles and why elements/beings like Dark Matter or other possessive elements seem to flow through him so easily

Galaxia is shown to utilize lightning, especially in the anime. And there was that whole thing in the show where the sword may destroy anyone deemed an unworthy wielder...

But I'll elaborate more in part 2 hehehe >:3

Part 2

(Also shout out to @das-a-kirby-blog for being the op of the Dedede's powers theory that I piggybacked off of :D You are cool and rad!!)

[whamgram]

Charlastor Week - Day 7 - Free Day

 An AU where Charlie and Alastor are podcasters. 🎙️ This one has been percolating in my brain for a while! Plot summary under the cut.

Alastor is the OG overlord of true crime. Back in his college days, he and his roommate Vox started what would become one of the first ever podcasts. With Vox’s tech savviness and Alastor’s knack for dramatic storytelling, The Hazbin Radio Program quickly became the podcast playing in every commuter’s car, gym bro’s headphones, and office jockey’s earbuds. Focusing on crimes where the victim “deserved what they got” might be controversial, but Alastor’s jazzy interludes and old timey radio schtick add a certain kind of whimsy to every episode.

As Vox grew their dorm room recordings into a digital media empire, Alastor struggled to remain authentic in a world being rapidly consumed by social media and influencer culture. The two friends had a huge falling out. Knowing it would mean death for his beloved radio program if he didn’t stay, Alastor remained under contract with Voxtek Entertainment. Years later, his listenership is dwindling, his sponsors are dropping like flies, and his desperation is stronger than ever to finally break away and have complete creative control of his show.

Charlie has big dreams, a bigger heart, and a behemoth of a family legacy she’s trying to separate herself from. The Morningstar family name is synonymous with pain and punishment, as their network of for-profit prisons house nearly every incarcerated individual in the country. But Charlie refuses to let her rich and influential father buy her way into the industry. The Happy Podcast’s moderate success was due to her hard work, passion, and the secondhand recording equipment she bought with her own money. Like every amateur influencer, she dreams of landing a contract with VoxTek Entertainment. Not for the bragging rights or all those sweet endorsement deals, but because she truly believes that her podcast can inspire her listeners to be better people.

The Happy Podcast is a mix of self-help, advocacy, social commentary, and whatever else Charlie feels passionate about that week. This can sometimes cause a bit of controversy, like when her strong feelings about prison reform lead to an unhinged rant about why a recently imprisoned axe murderer “deserves a second chance” because “he was a good guy who volunteered at his local animal shelter”. Despite this, she still snags an invite to the annual VTE Summit and is hoping to get some facetime with the media mogul himself.

It’s at the VTE Summit that Alastor and Charlie meet. Charlie is as starstruck as she is charmed by the mystery man behind her favorite guilty pleasure podcast. Alastor finds himself instantly drawn to the bubbly young woman who knows a surprising amount about true crime. In a cesspool of wannabe celebrities and people who would sell their soul for a brand deal, she feels like the only other person who’s in it for the craft and the content, not the clout.

Be it fate, coincidence, or a bit of meddling on Alastor’s part, they continue to cross paths and eventually agree to help each other out. Alastor teaches Charlie the art of presentation and storytelling while she brings his technical skills into the 21st century so he can start producing his podcast on his own.

As the pair dance around their feelings and look for any excuse to spend time with each other, Charlie asks Alastor to be a guest on her show. It goes so well, he asks her to be a guest on his. Even their audiences can’t deny the chemistry between them. No one would have thought this odd pair of podcasts would work so well together, but the sky-rocketed ratings and influx of sponsorships speak for themselves.

They both are soon to get everything they always wanted. That is, until Charlie starts to wonder exactly how Alastor knows so much about the victims he discusses on his show.

[lanceappreciationblog]

[Reblogs appreciated!!]

The #ChampionLanceWeek2024 prompt list is HERE!!

Spread the word!! We'll be starting from November 15th to the 21st just like every year! Come join us! 🌟🐲

[polinweek]

We have reached the halfway point of Polin Week 2025, Dearest Readers!

Your Day Four prompts are:

favourite quote

strangers to lovers

fantasy/scifi AU

omegaverse

[browneyesandhair]

Burn notice week day 4 prompt: snowglobe

Here's Fiona placing one on the shelf after cleaning it.

[skyward-floored]

Hey! For the 3 sentence prompts: how about “foolproof” for IAU? Glad you’re feeling better!

- Nevermatch

“Listen, listen, it’s fullproof,” Wild said determinedly, pointing to the map. “I run up here, jump off here, crash through the window and cause a big distraction, and then you guys just sneak in over—”

“It’s foolproof, not fullproof,” Four interrupted, and Wild paused, then gave him a look.

“Okay, fool, full, foal, whatever, the point is, it’s a good plan,” Wild continued. His siblings exchanged looks, and several eyebrows were raised. “It is! Seriously!”

“No good plan involves you jumping off a roof and hoping you crash into the correct window,” Twilight said, and Legend opened his mouth. “Shut it, Ledge.”

[alisadraws]

Hermione in a dark academia inspired outfit

[asexualreptile]

Day 4

Frappé- casual (?)- pre-canon- mythical creatures- Rebecca Piper

I looked at the Wiki and apparently we have exactly no physical descriptions of her so I made my own design.

This is set quite a few years before she becomes Mandrake's assistant when she is studying to become an assistant for high ranking magicans.

Right at this moment she is walking to school/ a library/wherever she would get that education when she's attacked by a bunch of bored, low-level spirits. They don't have permission to harm any human but playing this kind of cruel prank on an unsuspecting commoner is not acually harmful...right?

I think for the worldbuilding in the trilogy to remain consistent, magicians actually don't mind at all when commoners have unpleasant and scary run-ins with demons every now and then; keeps them in line. So while this is not a truly traumatizing experience for Rebecca like Nat's experience with the room full of spirits, it will absolutely shape her future perspective on them negatively.

The style of clothing that she's wearing is deliberately chosen to be something very different from what I think she's wear when she starts working for the government. But giving up parts of your identity and self-expression piece by piece as you climb the ladder of the magicians' system is an important part of the books so I added it.

The creature designs for the spirits are taken from the book "Fast verschwundene Fabelwesen" (Almost disappeared creatures of myth) by Florian Schäfer and Elif Siebenpfeiffer. They didnt create them themselves, just compiled them from European folklore and interpreted the designs for the book.

The green one: Manorm, a Lindworm (sort of a dragon) from Sweden

The red one: Roter Pfeil, a Tatzelwurm (also grouped in with dragons) from Switzerland

The brown one: Wolpertinger (hybrid animal) from parts of Germany and Austria

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Of All the Gin Joints

Week #17 Prompt: "I can't believe you!" | Word Count: 1938 | Rating: T | POV: Nancy | Characters: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Eddie | Relationships: Ronance, Steddie, Past Mentions of Stancy, Fruity Four | CW: Language, Alcohol Consumption | Tags: Future Fic, Bisexual Nancy Wheeler, Old Friends, And Maybe New Love, Getting Together, First Kiss

Nancy lets her eyes adjust to the darkness and flashing lights of the club. It's not exactly her comfort zone. But she watches as the men, and the women, move to the beat of the music that's bouncing the speakers, thumping so hard she can feel it in her chest. 

She's never been anywhere like this, not really. It's not exactly her scene, never has been. 

So, she finds a spot to stand in the corner, leaving a buffer, so she can take it all in. She always needs to study first, she never just dives face-first into anything. Unless it's an emergency. And this? Not an emergency.

This is just an unknown, an exploration of her sexuality that might be coming later than most. She thinks she should have done this sooner. Maybe not the club part, but the acting on her interest in women. But she didn't. Not the women, and definitely not the club, so now she'd like to know more before deciding to be all in on being a club-going person, especially at her age. 

Watching, it's clear that everyone seems to be having a really fucking good time, and aren't paying any attention to her clinging to the shadows, like a wallflower.

She's about to maybe make a move more towards the center of the action, when she catches a glimpse of a familiar smile, and she steps to the side to see better, to clear her sightline, to really make sure. And, yes, it is Robin, bouncing, laughing, dancing with a guy, seemingly having a hell of a good time. 

It's not Steve, this guy is far too short, and it isn't until he turns that she realizes it's Gareth. He's just chopped off all his curls, which she thinks is kind of a shame.

But, beyond that, she knows if Gareth's here, that means Eddie's here, and if Eddie's here, well...there he is. Steve Harrington, bouncing, hair flying, looking twenty instead of over forty. 

Looking free.

And happy. Really, really happy.

She hasn't seen any of them in person in years, only recently watching from afar on the new Facebook thing that she was bullied into joining by Dustin. She's not too mad about it, since it means she gets to see pictures of all her old friends, and gets to know that they're doing okay out in the world, living their lives. At least when she remembers to login and check.

Nancy hasn't decided if she's going to approach them or not. This is new to her, and while she knows they'd be supportive and fun and totally in her corner, she was really only looking to dip her toes in, not plunge headfirst.

But she doesn't get to decide, because Robin's caught sight of her and is waving frantically, with an enthusiasm only Robin can muster. She's missed her, she realizes. Missed all of them.

She sees Robin turn and yell in the other direction, hands flailing, nearly hitting those around her.

She hasn't changed a bit. 

So, Nancy waves back, and heads her way. She's kind of glad the decision was made for her. It's easier that way, and she gets to see Robin.

When Nancy approaches, Steve is suddenly there, picking her up and swinging her around so hard, she feels her back pop. She's not sixteen, not anymore, but he doesn't seem to have gotten that message as he squeezes her against him, before finally putting her back on her feet but still doesn't let go.

"I can't believe you! You're here!" Steve says, smiling wide and so fucking happy. 

He's glowing. 

There's a ring through his eyebrow, and tattoos crawling up his arm, and yet, he looks exactly the same, somehow. Just really, really happy and all grown up.

It's a good look on him. Honestly.

He giggles, squeezing both of her arms, "Nancy Wheeler."

She almost corrects him, but it is Wheeler again. Her divorce was finalized and she took her own name back, and she doesn't expect she'll ever give it up again. It's who she is, and she kind of hates that she ever forgot that. 

"Where's Eddie?" Nancy asks, leaning towards Steve's ear, trying to be heard over the music.

"The bar!" Steve screams back, and she looks that way, expecting to see him in line for drinks, but he's behind the bar. Putting on a show, as always.

It's a little mesmerizing. But Eddie Munson always was, for better or worse. He had an unique skill for capturing an audience and refusing to let them go.

Steve wraps his arms around her neck from behind, forcing her to walk in front of him, leading her right towards Eddie.

"Look who I found!" Steve shouts and Eddie grins, leaning up on and over the bar to cup her cheek, kissing the other one.

"Hey, Wheeler. What can I get you?" Eddie asks, waving his arm down the bar in a sweeping fashion.

She isn't sure, so she lets him pick, and he gets to work, sliding and twirling, dragging the bottle upwards as he pours, and she grins. He was made for this, she's pretty sure. Putting a show, holding an audience.

She hadn't realized he was a bartender, but she crawls up on an open bar stool, to watch him work. She expects that Steve will sit down next to her, but instead he walks around behind the bar, and kisses Eddie before he makes himself a drink. It's not as impressive as watching Eddie do it, but it's definitely not Steve's first time behind a bottle either, that's for sure. 

"Do you own this bar?" she yells, and they both nod.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, she happened to stumble into theirs.

It really is a small world after all. 

She hadn't heard they'd bought a bar. She must be more behind on that Facebook thing than she thought. Or they've owned longer than Facebook has been a thing, and it was old news she'd just missed out on hearing. She'll have to ask Dustin, or Mike. Get filled in on what they know.

"It's great!" she screams back, and it is. It's a little loud, a little overwhelming, but it seems like a really fun atmosphere. 

They both smile, and Steve is holding his own drink, and Eddie leans over putting the finishing touches on it. Then Steve's back across the bar, sitting next to her.

"You're here by accident?" Steve shouts to be heard, and she nods. She heard about the queer friendly bar, that wasn't really a club exclusively for young people, and it looked like something she might want to check out, now that she's open to exploring that side of herself.

She should have known she'd be drawn right to Steve, the only other bisexual person she really knows. That's just how these things work with them. There are no accidents. They've all been tied together for a long, long time, even as they've drifted and lived their own, separate lives.

They try to talk over the music, but it's impossible, and Steve takes her by the hand and leads her behind the bar, and into an office. He closes the door, and the sound is suddenly gone. Silenced. 

"Soundproofed?" she asks, sitting down on the couch.

Steve nods, "I still get headaches sometimes. It gives me a place to go to get away from the noise if I need to, without having to go all the way home."

"Smart. That's smart," she says, looking around. There are pictures lining the walls, filled with tons of familiar faces.

"It was Eddie's idea," Steve says, grinning, "he just wants me to be comfortable."

Then he smiles a different smile, a softer one, "And nearby."

Nancy smiles back at him, happy he's happy.

"He looks good, by the way," Nancy says, "really good. You both do. Robin, too."

Steve just smiles, because he knows that's true. Time has been kind to them, all of them, it seems.

"Gareth should have kept those curls, though," she teases.

"Don't tell him that, it's a sore spot," Steve says with a grin.

"Mum's the word," she promises.

Then the door opens and closes, Robin sliding inside. She bounces up and down, clapping her hands, "Nance! I can't believe you're here!"

Nancy stands up, and hugs her. Robin isn't as awkward as she was at eighteen. But she's still got that funky style that Nancy's always been a little jealous of, if she's totally honest. That innate ability to just be herself.

Steve is standing there smiling, and then says, "I'll let Robin show you around and catch you up. Eddie'll cry around if I skip out on helping him."

Nancy knows that's not true. Eddie Munson worships the ground Steve Harrington walks on, and has since 1986. At first it felt like Nancy was losing something that she might want again someday, and wanted to bristle up at Eddie. Claim her territory. 

But she quickly saw how Steve looked back at Eddie. She knew that look, and well, and she was happy for him, even if it was kind of hard to let that door close for good.

By the time they all went their separate ways, it was pretty obvious Steve and Eddie were in it for the long haul, and probably would always be. 

And here they are, still together, and they still look fucking happy.

She's not surprised one bit.

And good for them. She isn't sure what it would be like to pick right the first time. She's picked wrong twice now, and she's not excited to do it again.

Women. She might try women for a while. Forget all about men for a stretch and see how that feels, how it goes.

Robin is sitting next to her, and as soon as the door closes behind Steve, leaving them in quiet again, Robin's asking a million questions.

Always curious, Robin.

Nancy answers them. Mike's good. Three kids that act just like he did, which he definitely had coming. 

Robin catches her up on everybody she's still close with that Nancy hasn't seen in a while, and it's nice. Comfortable, like no time has passed.

"You want another drink? Dance? Some food? Anything?" Robin offers.

"Yes," Nancy says, and hell, she thinks she might want it all.

Another couple drinks in, they are bouncing around the dance floor as much as their middle-aged knees will allow, when Nancy reaches forward to brace herself against Robin's hip.

She didn't mean anything by it, but the sudden shift on Robin's face is telling another story. 

Oh shit.

Okay, yeah. That. 

She steps forward, and Robin meets her halfway. Lips pressing against hers in a way that she only barely let herself think about, in a time gone by. The curiosity was there, down deep, back when they were just getting close. But Nancy didn't know how to define it, how to understand it within herself.

She does now.

Robin's hand slides up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades, as she kisses her in a way Nancy's never been kissed. Not by anyone, maybe. 

She should have known. She should have realized that this is what she was looking for, missing, late to understanding.

When Robin pulls back, she smiles, and Nancy smiles back, her heart beating hard against her chest. 

She wants to do it again. 

So she does, leaning up, pressing her lips to Robin's one more time, eager to see where this can go from here.

Hopeful, and excited.

Ready.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[wincestwednesdays]

thank you to all of our creators for week one! while you browse their beautiful creations, get ready to begin week two with us 💗

creations for week two are due july 17th.

your prompts for this week are:

isolation— isolated from society? isolated from each other? isolated in an abandoned canadian shack? the choice is yours...

creative solutions— whether in the bedroom or on a hunt, we know sam and dean are regular macgyvers. how will you demonstrate this? we look forward to finding out!

your posts that follow our guidelines will be reblogged throughout wednesday and thursday. if you get your submission in after thursday, we'll reblog it next week. merry brotherfucking (or brotherpining, if that's more your speed).

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 1: Hearth

Four isn’t feeling all that well. Sky takes care of him.

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

The fire popped and crackled before him. Its glorious, golden warmth washed over his shivering frame, soothing the worst of the cold-induced aches he couldn’t seem to shake. Four shifted closer to the flames, so close he nearly rested within the hearth alongside the fire itself, and held out his palms to the warmth. This week had been long, with endless battles, constant rain and sloshing through mud. It hadn’t come as a surprise when he woke this morning with mild sniffles that quickly grew into feverish shakes and rippling aches and a permanent chill to his skin that left one quarter of him particularly anxious. He turned his hands around to warm the backs, sending a pulse of comforting warmth to the blue side of himself in hopes of calming him down.

“Here,” a soft voice said, and Four lifted tired eyes to see Sky standing by his side, holding out a mug for him to take. With a smile, Four took it, eyes crinkling when warmth burst across his fingertips as they met the plain white mug. Whipped cream topped the warm drink, dusted with chocolate powder.

“Thanks,” Four croaked, wincing when his throat chose to announce it, too, was suffering.

“Hot cocoa,” Sky said, settling a blanket across Four’s shoulders, before he sat next him. He drew one edge of the blanket across his own shoulders too, scooting closer. Four wanted to tell him to be careful, lest he pick up the illness too, but he was much too exhausted, and Sky would no doubt tell him he already knew that, and stay put regardless.

Instead, he shifted closer, leaning into Sky’s side and sighing when Sky easily curled an arm around his shoulders. He took a sip of his hot cocoa, humming appreciatively as sweetness danced across his tongue, warm and delightful. His eyes slipped shut, and he took another sip.

“Thanks, Sky.”

Sky squeezed his shoulders, drew him even closer, as if he wanted Four to fall asleep against him. Four might very well take him up on the offer. “You’re welcome.”

[somebluemelodies]

DAY SIX OF SPIDERBIT THEME WEEK STARTED BY @anonymous-dentist! :D SELECTED THEMES: HYBRIDS & CUDDLING ladies gentlemen and everyone in between WE GOT A TWO-FOR-ONE LETS GOOOO

Roier tries to be sneaky, Cellbit will give him that. And sure, he is sneaky! Against other people. Humans.

And, well, Cellbit is decidedly not human. Not one-hundred percent, at least. In other words: he hears Roier coming sneaking up the stairs to the bedroom long before a normal person would, ears tuned into the sound as he reads.

But he decides to let his husband have his fun, not looking up from his book and playing the oblivious game. Red appears in his peripheral.

“Gatinho!”

And then there’s a spider-hybrid strewn across his legs.

The investigator doesn’t look away from his book, but there’s a contented smile on his face. “Oi, guapito.”

Roier adjusts so he’s between Cellbit’s legs instead. The latter keeps reading, not needing to see the former’s face to know he’s starting to pout.

He’s patient, though, giving it a good while to wait and see if the cat-hybrid makes any move to put the book away. He doesn’t.

(He knows exactly what he’s doing.)

“Cellbo,” Roier whines.

Cellbit chuckles to himself. “Que?”

“Pinche pendejo— you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing, man!”

“Yeah?”

He feels two arms wrap around his torso, and another two pull the book from his hands indignantly. Six eyes stare up at him; two browns, and four extras laced with a beautiful ruby red.

Roier seems to contemplate, and Cellbit knows he’s considering throwing the book far away, but the spider-hybrid decides against it, merely tossing it onto the nightstand to their right, out of reach.

Hands free once more, he settles them on Cellbit’s chest, resting his chin on them and looking up at him, blinking in faux innocence.

The investigator laughs again, fond, gently cupping his husband’s face and stroking his cheeks. His tail flicks happily, curling somewhere around Roier’s leg as it always does.

It falls silent for a short while, the two basking in their silent admirations. In front of them, the sun has started sinking below the horizon, painting the whole bedroom with yellows and oranges and blanketing them in a comforting warmth.

The light catches Cellbit’s already-piercing eyes, casting his face in a golden glow, and for a moment, the spider-hybrid is left truly breathless, heart thumping in his chest.

(Is this what it feels like to fall in love all over again?)

He finally moves one of his arms, reaching up to the cat-hybrid’s head. Finding the right spot behind the base of Cellbit’s right ear, he scratches gently.

Immediately, Cellbit’s eyes flutter shut, hands dropping from Roier’s face so his arms can wrap around him instead. He subconsciously tilts back into the touch, and his husband hears the telltale begins of a purr rumble from his chest.

They stay like that a while, until Roier pulls his hand back but the purring persists, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Cellbit’s chest, above his extra pair. His head settles against the investigator’s chest, and he feels Cellbit hold him tighter in turn.

The bedroom gets progressively darker, but the warmth stays, settling into their bones as they feel sleep on the verge of taking over.

Only then does Roier pull Cellbit to lay down completely, and his husband complies immediately. They shift to be under the blanket and onto their sides, still facing each other, holding right back onto each other.

They become a web of tangled limbs, then, and pieces puzzle into place like routine clockwork. Roier tosses his leg over Cellbit’s and feels something soft curl around his in return. The spider-hybrid feels hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, tight but not desperate, keeping him pressed close.

(They physically can’t get any closer to each other, not with their tangled legs and three total pairs of arms wrapped securely around each other.)

(But they’ll try anyway.)

He presses his own face right back against the cat-hybrid’s chest. The purring is louder now, even as they’re clearly drifting off and can barely murmur te amo to each other in goodnight. But it’s not distracting. It’s… comforting.

It’s home.

This is home.

[necrotic-nephilim]

i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

[polinweek]

Where did time go? We are on the fifth day of Polin Week 2025!

Your Day Five prompts are:

Polin as parents

marriage of convenience

small town AU

breeding