#THREE prompts in a day

[stealingyourbones]

“Pissing all by yourself handsome?” Red Hood turns with a jerk to look at the person who just entered the 7/11 bathroom on the border of Crime Alley at 3:32am. A sickly grey skinned teenager stood in the bathroom. His nasty oil stained leather coat covering his wrinkled white t and black pants with far too many belts holding it up, leaned against the doorway of the bathroom. His hole ridden biker glove covered hands crossing his chest right below his glowing green skull necklace. The half lidded green eyes looking through his straw blonde hair and smug smirk of the ghastly bastard enforcing Red Hood’s choice to pull out his gun and fire at the fucker.

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

[drac0line1nn1t]

*Wade staring at himself in the mirror*

Wade: I'm so pretty.. *obviously doesn't believe it and is trying to convince himself*

*Wade frowns and reaches for his mask*

*Logan walks up behind him and gently grabs the arm reaching for his mask and Wade jumps around three feet in the air*

Wade: Marvel jesus peanut warn a gu-

*Logan reaches around his head with his other hand and puts his hand over Wade's mouth*

*Logan leans his head on Wade's shoulder looking in the mirror too*

Logan: *smiles* You're so pretty, bub.

[dclovesdanny]

Super Brain Dead

3/3

Danny always hoped his soulmates wouldn’t hate him. as the experiments continued, all he could do was pray and hope that his soulmates would not hate him and curse himself for getting caught by the GIW.

They were in the middle of another experiment on him when the alarms sounded. Danny was aware of agents rushing around and yelling, but he could barely focus through the pain.

The door was busted down, and he could barely make out the members of the justice league. He mostly focused on red hood, the EO signature, toxic, but real. He winced as red hood undid some of his bindings, not noticing how red hood’s eyes went wide at the side of the injuries.

Red Hood picked him up bridal style before tapping his helmet.*Guys, I think I found Red Robin and Superboy’s soulmate* was the last thing Danny heard before he slipped off into unconsciousness.

[somedayillbepeterpan]

Ahh, Luke. Lukey. Newts.

Have some laughing Lukey pookie, everyone.

For Bonus Polinweek Day 6 | Double date + Luke appreciation Day | Bridgerton BTS videos in Shondaland youtube channel

This man. THIS MAN ❤️

For as long as Colin Bridgerton has plagued my mind (since June 13) so too has this man.

Let me start this appreciation by saying an apology for ignoring Luke Newton for a very long time. And also for doubting him before the S3 release. I have been sleeping on (and most likely blinded by Nicola) that I never noticed this beautiful, talented man who, if not for him, the Polin story wouldn't have had the magic that it profoundly has.

Along with rewatching S3, I'm also rewatching S1 and S2 to fully catch the brilliant performance that Luke has been displaying as Colin Bridgerton. Truly, S3 has made me confront my personal biases and it made me realise how I was projecting my own ideas of what a man should be like on Colin Bridgerton when he is a distinct character in his own right. A lot of what makes Colin such an interesting character for me is how subtle Luke plays him.

There are this tiny inflections in the way Colin talks that is so particularly him. Even the way Colin moves/walks and his mannerisms changes from each season. The ground work Luke put in on Season 1, where Colin is particularly charming and naive, paved the way for this realistic (at times, heart wrenching) maturing that Colin goes through after learning that Pen is LW in S3 giving the Polin love story this weight of authenticity that we have not seen on Bridgerton.

Luke made Colin, a privileged, white man, so endearing that we feel that we are robbed of what Colin's character could have been in his own season (I have a counter-argument on this topic but I'll focus on Luke Newton). He may not be as talkative as Nicola but I think one of his nerdy alter-egos is one who loves to deep dive into character work and that is why him and Nicola get along so well.

I am a forever fan and I've put him on my list of actors that I have followed since their breakout roles (like Josh Hutcherson and Tom Holland). I do hope that he gets to build a strong screen portfolio (I remember he said that he loves doing screens more compared to live performances as he loves the subtleties of the screens). But I'll manifest a Broadway musical for him just so I can hear him sing again.

To Luke Newton, thank you for giving and sacrificing yourself for the past 5 years for Bridgerton. I hope you are surrounded by good people who will equally push you and ground you.

I hope you get all the best chances the industry that you love has to offer because you deserve to continue waking up being thankful that you get to act for a living 🥰

[snufkins-boot]

Dcxdp idea: Ra’s try’s to offer a 6y/o Damian to Danny in exchange for immortality and Danny is just like:

“um, no? I’m the ghost king? Why would I give out immortality? Also this is a fucking child!”

So ra’s gets told to fuck himself and Danny takes Damian anyway as his child.

Sam and Tucker don’t question why he has a random child now, they just go with it because why not. He’s done weirder.

Years later Bruce finds out about his son and is in a costody battle with the fucking ghost king, a plant goddess and a pharaoh.

Or, alternatively: co-parenting.

[keldabekush]

uhh rex and 42 if you want

[CAPTAIN REX would like it noted on record that this was not what he agreed to when he said he would babysit COMMANDER TANO.]

[COMMANDER TANO would like it noted on record that CAPTAIN REX was the one who suggested they attend this concert.]

[COMMANDER TANO would like it further noted that CAPTAIN REX seemed to know an awful lot of lyrics for someone who, quote, doesn’t like music for sulky adolescents, unquote.]

[CAPTAIN REX requests previous comment be expunged from the record. He additionally requests that COMMANDER TANO be noted as a Liar and a Snitch.]

Ashoka and Rex see Space Three Days Grace on coruscant and they wear so much clip on jewellery. She just ended up in the sketch somehow

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: When I die, our dumb, murder happy town is so full of ghosts you can’t find a closet to haunt. A market ghost economy has sprung up, which makes me want to die all over again.

[azu1as]

Hi, Tin! I love your writing and I have a prompt for you, if you are interested) what if Tang family is too afraid of Tang Bo leaving permanently and eloping with Cheong Myeong? So they initiate marriage negotiations with Mount Hua. It can be angst (CM is socially isolated and insecure about his position) or romantic comedy (awkward situations and protective Cheong Mun), up to you). Thank you in advance!

It was a well-established fact that the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was one of their generation's best.

So it came as no surprise when an influx of marriage proposals flooded their family's estate—because rumors started flying around that the Dark Saint was in search of a partner.

The Dark Saint held a reputation for being cold and ruthless. To cultivators and martial artists, he was someone they feared making into an enemy due to his sheer battle prowess and poisonous abilities. To normal civilians, he was a genius who wielded the Tang Family's techniques with cool precision and intent; to them, he was just another mysterious cultivator that they would only ever know of through gossip and stories.

However, in recent years, something shifted. His reputation among common folk was slowly altered. It started off with a supposed battle between him and the Plum Blossom Sword Saint which turned into a sudden and unexpected friendship.

Whereas in the past the Dark Saint would only go around Sichuan and closeby villages, he was now found going around different major cities and unknown ones.

He was often in the company of Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who worked with him side-by-side to eradicate groups from the Demonic Cult and the occasional bandits and thieves.

For supposed Taoists, the two visited different establishments to drink alcohol and talk cheerily. It was during one of these moments that the first rumor began its spark.

"Ahhhh," The Plum Blossom Sword Saint groans in satisfaction. "That sure hits the spot!"

The Dark Saint chuckles as he tosses back his own drink. "If only I could enjoy everyday like this. Alcohol really is the best."

"What would your future wife think?" The Plum Blossom Sword Saint jokingly and dramatically shakes his head in disappointment. "To have a husband who loves alcohol more than his own wife...!"

The Dark Saint wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Trust me, I would make sure that my wife knows full-well just how much I love them."

The two of them share a silent, private conversation with just their eyes alone, that none of the other restaurant's customers could decipher, before they leave a generous tip and went on their way.

It snowballs from there.

All of a sudden gossip went around about the Dark Saint's interest in finding a wife. And so several people came to the same conclusion.

The reason why the Dark Saint is travelling around more than usual is because he's looking for a prospective wife.

Clearly, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint was there to provide moral support. How truly admirable and strong their brotherhood must be!

On the other hand, the head of the Tang Family was fully aware of their Dark Saint's single-minded interest in Mount Hua's Chung Myung.

Seeing all the stacks of letters that ranged from proposing strategic alliances and general marriage offers brought the current head of the Tang Family to a very different conclusion.

Tang Bo was trying to slowly draw himself away from their family by leaving their estate. He might be on the hunt, jumping from village to village, trying to create a dowry befitting for the hand of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and scouting out all the best locations to settle down in.

It really wouldn't be too surprising of an idea if one day a letter turns up from the man with an intent of permanently moving to Mount Hua or some backwater village.

The Tang Family head shakes the thought of losing one of their best and genius members to one of the Ten Great Sects. If he wanted to maintain their family's reputation, he'll need to strike the first move.

And so he begins to pen a decisive letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

%%%

Chung Mun's hands tremble as reads the letter sent to him by the Tang Family.

'Who did they think they were?' He would have bit out if he had any less self-restraint. The paper crumples in his grip and he receives a questioning glance from Chung Myung who was sprawled eating mooncakes on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's got you so worked up?" The subject of the letter askswithout a care.

Chung Mun takes a deep breath. "The Tang Family wishes for you to transfer into their estate."

He refuses to say out loud the marriage proposal that came along with this request. His Chung Myung was too young! The man might be a sixty years old, but that round face, cheeks carelessly bulging with mooncakes with crumbs littered on his chin, screamed too young for marriage!

"Oh." Chung Myung nods in understanding.

Chung Mun is glad that Chung Myung agrees that this was nonsensical. To think, they thought that Chung Myung would even leave Mount Hua for—

"After the war is over, Tang Bo and I were planning to be roommates and travel the world a bit."

—?????

"Roommates?" Chung Mun's voices comes out slightly strangled.

"Yup. It's going to be great."

"No."

"'No'?"

Chung Mun tries to run through his previous conversations with Tang Bo. He knew that the man was capable of being underhanded, but he was also well-aware that Tang Bo respected him enough to not blind-side him with something like this. Especially since it concerned Chung Myung.

...

...Oh no.

"Fuck." Chung Mun says, full of feeling as he recalls Tang Bo off-handedly asking permission to live together with Chung Myung in the future.

"...Sect Leader?"

Chung Mun had thought that was a joke! He thought Tang Bo wasn't being serious! They were talking with alcohol in their systems!

The alarmed look that crosses Chung Myung's face informed Chung Mun that the way he felt his blood drain from his face was a visible, physical reaction.

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Chung Mun says faintly. "I said yes."

Chung Myung blinked at him. "Yeah? He told me?"

Okay. Tang Bo, to his credit, hasn't been leaving Chung Myung in the dark at least.

If Chung Myung knows and isn't reacting violently that means that he isn't completely against this. Even if Chung Mun was, he had to reorganize his priorties.

And his number one would be to make sure Chung Myung was happy.

((And to make sure that the Tang Family doesn't think they can step on Chung Mun and pull his little brother away.))

"I'll have to recheck the sect's budget and my own savings to make sure we have enough for the wedding preparations..." Chung Mun mutters as he begins drafting a response to the Tang Family with what he thought were better marriage agreement conditions.

But then, a flash of dread causes Chung Mun to pause writing and leave a dark ink blot on the paper. He suspected, but he really wishes that he was wrong—!

"Huh?" Chung Myung gives Chung Mun a confused look. "We already got married though?"

[hyolks]

i know i joked about it but would you guys actually join me in an fma month draw challenge... fmabruary if i may.... and if you were to join would you prefer prompts or not..

of course if you join you dont have to be a maniac like me and literally draw on the day of bc i know its a really hard thing to do (i did not finish unscathed lol) AND. who cares. you odnt even have to do all 29 days of february. maybe just three drawings in february. just a month where theres fma. imagine.....

[escyn]

Since @zukkathirst is asking for teasers gonna put this here gently (👀 hope y’all are saddled up). Id in alt as per usual.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1011 - Eddie

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Winding Down After The Gig, Long-Term Relationship, Road Manager Steve Harrington

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

"You ready?" Steve asks, stuffing his napkin into his empty beer glass, cleaning up the area surrounding his seat at the long table they've all been occupying tonight, at the bar they found after the show.

Eddie nods, because hell yeah. If Steve's ready, he's ready. Always.

He's just grateful Steve wanted to come out at all. This far into a tour, and with all the other stress he's been under just trying to keep them up and running, he's getting worn out.

Eddie knows that. 

Plus, it'll be nice to get back to the hotel before anyone else, anyway. They can do anything they want, as loud as they want, and not have to worry about Goodie hearing through the walls. Goodie's known for annoyingly banging on adjoining walls, or once, quite memorably, calling the fucking front desk and turning in a noise complaint like he didn't know them.

Hilarious, now.

At the time, not so much, as Eddie stood in the open doorway in his robe, Goodie watching out his own open room door, fucking cackling.

Tonight, Steve's set up a car to pick them up, and it's waiting. It'll circle back to wait for everyone else when they're ready to go.

Eddie holds the door for Steve, letting him get in first. 

It's not a long ride, but Steve has relaxed into the seat, head tilted back, like he could easily fall asleep right there, lulled by the vibration of the road beneath the tires.

Eddie rubs his thigh, lazy circles with his thumb, and before they get there Steve is snoring.

"Okay, sleeping beauty," Eddie says, when they pull up under the hotel canopy. Steve wakes easily, he always does, and is up and moving. He can sleep anywhere in short bursts, but can also be back in motion at the drop of a hat.

Eddie doesn't quite understand it, he could never.

In the room, Steve sheds his clothes and flops on the bed, facedown. Eddie does the same, and crawls in after him, running his hand up and down Steve's back. 

They're spreading him too thin. They probably should have skipped the bar entirely tonight. Eddie played a full gig, sure, but he's still running on adrenaline. 

Pulling his hand back, Eddie settles into bed next to Steve, closing his eyes. 

"Why'd you stop?" Steve asks, turning his head towards Eddie. 

"So you can sleep, sweetheart," Eddie answers, leaning forward and kissing Steve's head. 

Steve rolls onto his side, "We actually have a room, all to ourselves, and not a cramped bus bunk. I'll sleep after." 

Eddie laughs, "It seems like you needed to sleep before."

Steve scoots closer and closer until he's on top of Eddie, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's back. Holding him tight. Naked skin to naked skin.

"You work too much," Eddie tells him. "Tomorrow's a day off. Sleep in. Let us handle our own shit."

Steve laughs at that, and Eddie is aware of how unrealistic of an offer it is. They don't know shit about running their own lives, not anymore. 

There's a schedule, a plan, and Steve's made it. 

"How about you do all the work tonight, and I'll relax," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. 

He'll take that deal. He'll take any deal Steve will offer him. 

"Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen, sweetheart." 

"Just love me," Steve says. 

Eddie smiles, "That's a done deal." 

Steve laughs, his chest rumbling against Eddie's. 

Eddie taps his back, "Roll over. I've got you." 

Steve does, and Eddie situates himself between Steve's thighs.

He takes Steve's cock in his hand, already hard, and Eddie just wants to look at him in the low light. Feel him. 

And yeah, love him. 

He braces one hand against Steve's hip bone, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he makes himself comfortable between Steve's legs. 

Eddie rubs Steve's dick against his bottom lip, teasing Steve, just a little, before he slides down. Tongue and hand working together. 

Steve rests his hand on Eddie's head, and it doesn't feel like he's being guided, just touched. Grounded. 

Eddie looks up, expecting that Steve's eyes will be closed, but they aren't. They're half-lidden and hazy, just watching him. Eddie smiles, or tries to, since that's kind of hard to do around a mouthful of cock.

Steve gets the message loud and clear, though, because he smiles back. Moving his hand to cup Eddie's cheek. Thumb stroking, brushing against his lip. It's a little distracting, but in the very best way.

"Come up here," Steve says, and Eddie does. Straddling his hips, leaning forward, pressing his mouth against Steve's. He knows that's what Steve wants, to kiss him. Eddie grinds down against Steve, and if he just had some lube, he'd-

Steve reaches over, and comes up with the tube, reading his mind. He always does.

Eddie slicks up his palm, gripping the pair of them, stroking both cocks as he rocks his hips and fucks against him, trying to keep his mouth on Steve's as he does it.

It feels good. His own hand on one side, Steve's hard length on the other, just sliding together, rushing headlong. 

Steve makes a noise from deep in his throat, and comes, hot over Eddie's fist and Eddie keeps working himself against Steve until he can follow him over the edge, coming with a groan right against Steve's mouth.

Eventually he lets go, and cleans them up, curling against Steve, anchoring his leg over Steve's hip.

"Sleep in tomorrow morning, okay," Eddie says.

Steve hums in agreement.

"I love you, rest," Eddie whispers.

"Love you, too."

Eddie wakes up needing to piss, and it's just after eight. Steve's already up and gone, back to work. Eddie should just stay up. There's coffee already made in the room pot, and not even the smell of that brewing woke Eddie up.

He drinks a cup, and it's getting old. Already. 

Steve's been up that long. 

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

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[methoughtsphantom]

Ghost tech?? Must be the fenton kid

Can be a twin au or not but vigilante friends Tim and Danny that meet up in secret in whoever’s city is the most calm at the moment (via ghost portals) until the day the GIW catches sight of this teenager talking and exchanging tech with Phantom. only the camera lens’ not great and they only see a black haired blue eyed kid.

which—ghost tech?? must be the fenton child

Later that day Danny arrives home, thinking it had been a pretty good day. Tim had just left and his parents were in a trip which meant he got to be a ghost freely around his house. He didn’t expect the Ghost Investigation Ward to be there when he got downstairs.

(To be fair the GIW also didn’t expect Phantom to be in Fentonworks) just picture:

The GIW is now certain Daniel Fenton is aiding and abetting Phantom.

They put up a bench warrant for him.

Tim is super surprised to see Danny not even three hours after he last saw him to ask him if his offer to dismantle the GIW still stands. It does.

[somedayillbepeterpan]

I demand a Polinyear. Or a Polinlifetime.

For Bonus Polinweek Day 7 | Favourite kink + Love confessions S3E8 | Into the Light The Butterfly Ball confession scene

I have not abandoned my Butterfly ball deep dive series. It's just taking a while to write. And I also was enjoying creating content for Polinweek as it's my first time participating. But I will definitely finish that series.

One of my favourite things about Bridgerton S3 is how real/authentic/genuine it was in portraying Colin and Pen's Friends to Lovers journey. I was rewatching tonight and I burst into tears when the wedding scene was on and I was uncontrollably sobbing by the time Episode 8 rolled around.

The very first time that they finally see each other equally, the very first time that they finally are aligned, the very first time that they decided to grow and mature together is the very first time that they said I love you to each other. Throughout the show, it was just one saying it and the other accepting it with no direct reply.

But the one above was them on equal grounds, on equal playing field saying that the love they feel for each other is more than lust, more than shallow emotions, more than codependency but just pure, unadulterated love.

It's that look that they give each other that even without words says, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Because you are deep inside my soul and I understand what love is because of you."

(Why am I crying while writing this???)

The sensation of falling in love is so intense that sometimes you forget yourself. And when you forget yourself, the sensation of love becomes corrupted. There is something that I always remember my husband said to me while we were in the first throes of our love story-- that it takes two people to fall in love. To add to that, it takes another person to grow out of yourself.

Both Colin and Pen were lonely souls, even with the amount of people around them. Since both of them desired deep connection (Colin's journal and when Pen was talking to Debling about love), they have unintentionally isolated themselves with the people around them (Colin going on his travels and when Pen couldn't answer her mother's question of who she was protecting herself from when she started writing LW). The circumstances that pushed them to their loneliness kept them from positively maturing, rendering them stuck in their pasts.

This is why their love story becomes so beautiful to me. In the process of falling in love with each other (or understanding the deep connection they have), they are offered the chance to grow out of the versions they have been stuck on. And isn't that what love should be and do to you? To help take you out of your blindspots and help make you understand that life isn't made to be lived in isolation.

The scene above perfectly ties up that evolution. By looking into how their I love you's progressed-- from Pen's botched confession on S1E8, to Colin and Pen's reciprocated "you are special to me" declaration, to the fallout and subsequent rebuilding of "friendship" via courting lessons, to realising and accepting that they cannot live without each other on a carriage ride to Colin saying I love you for the first time (but with a little push from his big bros and a dash of his hero complex default), to Pen's "I have always loved you", to Pen's three "I love you's" (but with a dash of angst and desperation to get that actual sentiment in Colin's head) and then to end up here, in the Butterfly ball, them saying I love you to each other for the first time without any other hindrance other that it being the truth.

No expectations but just pure love. Luke and Nic's delivery was yet another slam dunk in this scene and I really do believe it's why most of us cried. Not only that Colin's confession before that was so beautiful but it's this mutual acceptance, mutual seeing, mutual embracing of each other's authentic selves that made this scene so satisfying.

And for my personal indulgence, I really love it when I love you's are said just as it is, with no "too's" or "more's" because love is unquantifiable. I try never to say "I love you, too" at all as it never sounds right to me.

Much like my post about my favourite quote, this again is an example of how such simple lines where elevated by the story and Luke and Nic's performances.

I really can't move on from S3. Consider this as my love confession to the season too.

On a side note: Thank you for the bonus Polinweek. I've yet to be done with this season so I hope you can all continue to ride this wave with me.

[virescent-v]

I’ve always wanted to see a fic surrounding this: the aftermath of Emily’s rescue from Mr Scratch. Maybe a fluffy bath moment at home or sweet smut vibes?

Aftermath

A/N: Bestie! I loved this idea. Tbh, I had to watch that ep first because I had no idea who Mr Scratch was. I'm only on s5 of my watch through hahaha. But I watched it, and wrote this! I hope it does it some justice. I think this is really my first take at a hurt/comfort fic.

Word Count: 1.6k (I broke my less than 1k word challenge, oops) Warnings: honeslty, not too much. There is some slight smut tho.

You were told to wait at home. But the wait was excruciating. 

You hadn’t gotten many details from Penelope other than Emily had been kidnapped, drugged, and had gotten rescued. She was otherwise unharmed. You only knew that she was chasing a high profile psychopath; someone that had even Hotchner running into WITSEC. 

So, you were waiting. Impatiently. For your girlfriend to come home. So you could check her over yourself, especially since you knew she wasn’t going to be responsible and go to the hospital. 

You were broken out of your inner anxious ramblings by Emily stumbling through the front door, all but dropping her bags at her feet and practically running right to you. 

“Em,” you whispered, gathering her in your arms. You could feel her slightly shaking, the adrenaline of everything finally crashing on her. “You’re home, baby, and safe. You’re safe now,” you said, continuing to whisper sweet words to her, rubbing your hands on her back, helping to wear off some of the epinephrine coursing through her. 

You tried to pull away, so you could look at her, really look at her, but her arms shot out and grabbed you around your waist, pulling you even closer to her. Like she was trying to burrow into you. 

“Not yet,” she whispered, her nose dragging up the side of your neck, breathing in your perfume. 

“Okay, okay.” 

It takes a couple of minutes; you can feel Emily mouthing something against your skin, as if she’s trying to ground herself, reminding herself that she’s not with him anymore. Eventually, though, she loosens her grip on you, allowing you to look at her face for the first real time since she got home. 

When your eyes connect, you can see the tears shining in hers. You can feel the weight of her stare, silently communicating between the two of you. 

I almost died. 

But you didn’t, love. You’re home. 

You trail your hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and over her heart. 

You’re alive. You’re safe. 

As you tap your pointer finger on her chest in time with her heartbeat, she takes a shuddering breath, a few tears finally making their way down her cheek. She blinks a few times, not trying to hide the emotion escaping her, before taking a deep breath that seems to use all of her remaining energy. 

“Can- can we take a bath?” She asks, timidly. As if you would ever deny her anything. 

You don’t say anything. You just grasp her hand in yours and lead her to your bathroom. You sit her on the toilet, tucking some of her stray hair behind her ears. You reach over to your oversized tub, turning the water to just on the side of scalding. The temperature Emily prefers. 

As the tub fills, you watch Emily, rubbing your hands on her knees. She’s still occasionally shaking, but not as badly as when she came in. Her gaze isn’t focused on anything, worrying you that she might start receding back to memories from earlier. You know she’ll be hit with nightmares later, something you’ve dealt with before and know how to handle. You just want to prevent that for right now. 

Once the tub is full, you add some bath water oils, a eucalyptus smell. You’ve found that it’s better for keeping Emily calm over lavender or vanilla smells. 

You start to strip, placing your clothes in the hamper. Emily still isn’t focusing on anything, her eyes settled on her hands on her lap. She isn’t even registering that the bath is ready, so you approach her quietly. 

“Em, baby, the bath is ready. You need to get undressed.” 

Her eyes tracked up your body, but there wasn’t her normal heat in her gaze. Only as if she was making sure that it was really you. 

When your eyes connected, you had to stop yourself from gasping. Her eyes were turning red from trying not to cry, almost overflowing with unshed tears. 

You crouched down in front of her, your nude form not even a worry. You rubbed your thumbs across her cheeks, trying to get her to release her emotions. You’d take them from her if you could. 

Emily feels your thumbs rubbing back and forth, letting your love for her ground her to this moment. Eventually, she closes her eyes tight, all of the tears breaking free, and she starts to sob. She collapses into you, burrowing into your neck again. This time, you can hear her mumbling, wheels up, I’m home, wheels up, I’m home over and over again. A mantra. 

You give her a few minutes, letting her get out most of the current wave of emotion. You know it’ll hit her again later, likely many times, and you know you’ll take them all in stride. Anything for her. 

Another deep breath, another slow release from you. You reach over and grab some toilet paper, wiping at her teary, snotty face. You can tell she almost cracks a smile at the noise her nose makes when she blows it into the tissue; she’s slowly coming back to herself. 

After you toss the tissue in the trash, you grab the hem of her shirt. Tugging on it, Emily raises her arms, allowing you to undress her. There’s no sexual charge to your movements; this is purely emotional, intimate connection between you and your girl. 

You get in the tub first, spreading your legs so Emily can settle between them. Usually, she’s behind you, always pampering you. It’s only on rare occasions do you get to be the one caring for her, so you take pride in your movements, your ability to calm her when she most needs it. 

As she settles in front of you, you feel the last of her energy leave her. The hot water around you soothing sore muscles, easing her overworked nervous system. Her heart rate starts to slow, her breaths becoming deeper, slower, longer. 

While you know that her body is physically relaxing, you know that her mind is not. 

You never get the details of the case. She never wants to burden you with the gruesomeness of her job, doesn’t want you to worry more than you already do. Emily’s a profiler, can read anyone in the room and pinpoint their motives. But you’ve become an expert in Emily. 

You help her through the aftermath as best as you can, providing her with the space to unwind in whatever what she deems necessary - or whatever way her body deems necessary. Sometimes it’s a hot bath and a good meal, sometimes it’s body-wracking sobs on the couch, and sometimes it’s taking her to the local gym to spar with someone and let her anger out. 

You see sides of your girlfriend that you know no one else has or ever will. She’s a strong, independent person with walls taller than Everest. Somehow, you’ve managed to climb them, repel down them, and settle in. Emily let you settle in, let you unwind the barb wire around her heart. You’d protect it with your life. 

You start rubbing a soft cloth with your body wash across Emily’s body; she’s always taken comfort in your smell after a bad case. You make sure to go slow, not knowing what happened to her, not wanting to trigger anything unknowingly. 

As you reach her bent knees, you feel her flinch a little. You stop immediately, trying to check in with her again. She’s mouthing the same mantra: Wheels up, I’m home, wheels up…

“Em? Do your legs hurt?” 

A slight shake of her head. No pain, which likely means it’s something mentally. 

You continue slowly, letting her feel the cloth on her legs. “Open your eyes, Em. Your legs are okay.” 

You watch the side of her face, watch as her eyes blink open, watch as her eyes track your hands up and down her leg. 

Another deep, shuddering breath as you feel her relax back into you. She continues to watch your movements, her eyes growing more focused as they move back up her torso. 

“I need,” a whisper, caught in the dryness of her throat; she clears it before trying again. “I need you to touch me.” 

You release the cloth, notice it float away to the end of the tub. Your hands wrap around her, settling lower on her belly, resting there. You watch the side of her face again. “You sure?” 

You would never take advantage of her, not while she’s vulnerable. You’ve had this conversation before, about how sometimes after certain cases she just needs to feel connected to you, feel intertwined with something that is real.  

She turns to look at you, her nose brushing against yours as she whispers a strong, steady, “love me,” against your lips.  

She trails her hand to yours, interlocks your fingers, before bringing both of them down to her core. Interconnected, simultaneously, you start rubbing slow, steady circles on her clit, working her up easily, lovingly. 

Each brush of your fingers against her has her twitching, rolling her hips into your hands. Her head thrown back against your shoulder, you can see her feeling you, feeling your love for her. The only thing on her mind now is her, you, and the way that you make her feel. Each stroke of your fingers is a promise, a vow to protect her, keep her safe, love her. It’s a love letter of all of the things you wish you could voice, of all of the ways you care for her. 

As she nears her peak, your lips find her ear as you whisper over and over I love you, you’re home, I love you… 

Her back arches against you, her hips pressing more fully into your hand. You help her ride through the waves, gathering her in your arms as she settles back down. Your lips brush light kisses around her temple and cheek as she catches her breath. 

“I love you,” she says. “I’m home.”