[ID: Poster for Polyship Week 24, taking place 17–23 November, listing the prompts for each day. /end ID]
The prompts for #PolyshipWeek24 are here! As with last year, the final prompt of each day links to an image — feel free to use the phrase or the image itself for inspiration, and please credit the original creator if you remix their work.
Day One
Team as Polycule
"Is that my hoodie?"
Breakups
Group Hug (smolmoss)
Day Two
"Blorbo Has Two Hands"
Gift-Giving
Thunderstorms
Stair Cuddles (adorkastock)
Day Three
Queerplatonic Partners
Beach
Reverse Tropes
Through the Years (shutterstock)
Day Four
Aro/Ace & Polyam
Promises
Time Travel
Let's Dance (shutterstock)
Day Five
Relationship Anarchy
"You're burning up!"
Arranged Marriage
Only One Bed (House promo image)
Day Six
Queer Disabled Polyam
Parties
Kink Discovery
Tight Squeeze (Sailor Moon, gif by xbuster)
Day Seven
Free Day! Happy Polyamory Day!
Event Guidelines
Works featuring polyamorous characters and relationships of all kind are welcome — any characters, ships, fandoms, and OCs too!
Queerplatonic relationships, as well as asexual and/or aromantic characters are explicitly welcome on ANY day!
Works may be in any medium — fic, art, gifsets, podfic, vids, and more!
Participate in as few or as many days as you like. Choose your favorite prompt each day or mash them up — whatever sparks your imagination!
Please tag us @PolyshipWeek or use the hashtag #PolyshipWeek24 so we can reblog your creations!
Need even more inspo? You can view the entire list of suggested prompts here.
→ Day 4: promises
“I made a promise, too; I promised to keep the pair of you alive. If Moghedien shows up, she’ll go after you two. Now, here.” [Mat] pushed the medallion at her again.
Elayne reached up to pull his hat off and slip the cord over his head. She actually tucked the foxhead into his shirt and patted it before handing him his hat. [...] “You wear it. After all, you can hardly keep your promise if Moghedien kills you.”
Hob x Endless (yes all of them) | Teen and up | Complete | Hobsbandverse, clothes sharing (theft), domestic fluff, mostly tea and smooches tbh | Ao3 link
For the @polyshipweek day 1 prompt, "Is that my hoodie?"
Hob discovers that his wardrobe seems to be considered communal property.
—
When he shuffles into the kitchen to find Desire in the process of making what he knows will be the perfect cup of tea, Hob stops and stares at them wearing the shirt he’d had on yesterday and absolutely nothing else.
“Looks good on you,” he says, as Desire hands him the tea.
“Glad you think so,” Desire says, pressing a kiss to Hob's cheek. “I’m keeping it.”
Hob does not think to object.
This turns out to be a dangerous precedent to set.
—
It takes him a minute to realise that the tie-dyed cropped t-shirt Delirium's wearing today is actually one of Hob’s old band t-shirts. It’s obviously too late to object, and in any case, he was only wearing it to sleep in, and it looks good on her. It also makes him feel good—to provide, to see her happy, to see someone he loves and cares for in his clothes, a sign that she’s his, and he’s hers. It’s nice.
“Love what you've done with that,” he says, pressing a kiss to her head on the way past the sofa, where Despair is painting her toenails with minute concentration. “Cuppa for both of you?”
—
Death’s wearing one of his jumpers the next time he sees her. It’s a cold night, so he doesn’t begrudge her the warmth, and the emerald green looks good on her, and she’s pulling off the boyfriend jumper look like a fashion model.
He quite likes the thought of being her jumper-owning boyfriend.
He greets her with a kiss, and slips a hand under the the jumper to stroke the impossibly soft skin of her lower back, and fully succeeds in convincing her to let him take it—and quite a bit more—off.
It’s still gone in the morning, though.
—
Despair nicks a pair of grey joggers off him. The ones with a hole in the knee from an embarrassing incident with an ill-behaved terrier. He should’ve known he’d lose them, really. She loves grey.
“Do you know I love you?” he asks, bending down to kiss her hello while she once again focuses minutely on toenail-painting duties, this time for Dream.
—
Dream pilfers his pyjamas. With such speed and enthusiasm that Hob suspects the sex was only to facilitate the petty theft.
“They smell of you,” Dream says, holding the collar up to his nose and nuzzling into it. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed like it’s his throne, drowning in plaid flannel, with a tiny smile playing about his lips. What’s Hob meant to say to that?
Nothing, is what. Which is what he does.
Dream vanishes with the pyjamas before sunrise.
—
Destruction’s choice of garment is another of Hob’s sleep shirts—plain and threadbare, unlike the one Delirium made off with. It’s much too small for him, stretched tight across his broad shoulders when Hob wanders into the kitchen to the glorious smell of a proper fry-up. For both of these reasons, Hob’s too attracted to him in the moment to say anything.
Several more shirts go missing, but Hob probably gets more enjoyment out of them on Destruction anyway.
—
It takes Hob longer than he’d care to admit to figure out exactly what strikes him as weird about the tableau in the living room.
Well, weirder than usual, anyway. Four Endless in the one room would probably seem apocalyptic in any other context, but Death’s chatting amicably with her older brother on the sofa, the two of them sipping tea from their own mugs. That doesn’t happen every day, but it’s warm and domestic and makes Hob feel all fuzzy inside. He’s so glad he's managed to make a space where all of them can just be.
Destruction and Delirium are engaged in some sort of craft project on the floor. Destruction has thankfully put down newspapers for the purpose, but then Hob doesn’t mind a little cleaning and honestly, Delirium can usually be persuaded to clean up after herself.
He inspects the project for several long seconds, decides he has no idea what it is, and makes encouraging noises anyway before kissing each of them on the head and turning back to the sofa.
It’s then that he realises what he was seeing before. Death’s still wearing the emerald green jumper—Hob gave it up as lost months ago—but Destiny...
Relationship Anarchy/"You're burning up!"/Arranged Marriage/Only One Bed
"Why the fuck do you guys get to go but we can't?!"
"Dad calm down. I don't like it either but you're a human and I'm an angel. We can't just go to Hell whenever we want. Our bodies probably wouldn't be able to handle it." Vaggie set a hand on her father's shoulder to try and calm him down.
"You think I wanna go?"
Messing with their bowtie, Lucifer couldn't help but feel anxious. This was only the second time that they would be seeing their father. The last time had been when they had accidently time traveled into Hell.
The only reason Lucifer had agreed to go was so that Charlie could meet her grandfather and see the unexpected beauty of Hell like they had.
"You can share my room, Charlie."
"Aww~ thank you, Via."
"Oh, oh! Me too! Me too!"
Watching the little girl jump around excitedly, Octavia picked her up with a laugh. "Sure Niffty. You too."
"Girl's night sleepover!"
"Yay!"
"What?! Why does she get to go?!"
"Did you forget that my dear Niffty is half demon?" Taking his little girl, Alastor set her on his head where she usually sat. "Besides, I doubt that you could handle her while I'm gone."
"Can we just get this over with?"
"Come on, Luci darling. At least pretend to be excited. How about showing us that beautiful smile?"
~
"Are you sure this is the room we're supposed to be in?"
"Of course, darling. This is your room after all. Hence the one bed."
Watching the two talk and unpack their bags, Alastor could feel his annoyance growing. This wouldn't be an issue if Stolas stayed in his own room or if Alastor's room hadn't been destroyed by that imbecile Vox in his absence. At least he could take out his frustrations on him later.
"Alastor. Are you going to unpack as well?"
"Uh... Stolas. Alastor isn't going to be all that keen on sharing a bed with the both of us. He isn't that big on touch."
"Oh. Oh dear. What should we do?"
Sighing, Alastor couldn't find it in him to stay upset at the situation. It wasn't their fault. Besides, they could still make this work.
"As long as you do not touch me Stolas, I shall be alright."
"Yay! I get to be in the middle!"
Laughing at his goofy and adorable partner, Stolas guided them to the bathroom with him so that Alastor could have some privacy to get ready for bed.
"Let us get changed so we can turn in for the night."
~
Flopping down in the middle of the bed, Lucifer had to admit that this visit wasn't as bad as they had been dreading. Especially since now, they were gonna be sleeping next to Alastor. It was a rare occasion since he didn't want anyone besides, Lucifer, Niffty, or Adam to touch him while he slept.
As Stolas settled in next to them, they tossed his book away. Lucifer knew that he would stay up all night reading if no one stopped him. Plus, they were feeling a little selfish tonight...
"Could you not throw my book please?" Amused by his partner's childish behavior, Stolas positioned them, so they were laying on their sides with his arms around them. "Better?"
"Much. Now we just need Alastor and we can go to sleep."
"I am just setting up my radio. Or are you going to throw that as well?"
"Oh, ha ha. Hurry up~"
"So demanding. Do not worry your highness I have finished."
Smooth and relaxing jazz music filled the room as Alastor got settled besides Lucifer on their other side. Hooking one of his fingers with Lucifer's, Alastor thought that he could get used to this sort of arrangement.
A/N: Day four for @polyshipweek using prompt 'promises'
There’s always been a special bond between Hook and Peter. It’s one Ernest isn’t a part of and he doesn’t mind.
He swears he doesn’t.
(He might be lying, just a little.)
See, he doesn’t mind sharing Peter. But Peter has such a rich history with Hook and Hook has always understood him in a way Ernest simply can’t. It’s not a bad thing at all, and Ernest is grateful he has Hook. But… sometimes Ernest has some fears. Because Hook and Peter fit so cleanly, Ernest just can’t see how he can fit, too.
But when they leave Neverland– and they know he still needs more time– they promise to find him again. Peter promises to find him again. It’s a promise which keeps Ernest up that first night and many, many nights after. Especially when he does finally return to America. It doesn’t escape him Peter and Hook are far less likely to find him in America, when both of them had british accents.
For a few years, Ernest stays in America, fighting on whether or not he should take a trip to England. To see if he can’t find them himself. Can’t find Peter, at least. While he struggles with the thought, is haunted by the promise, he starts to write short stories. They’re surprisingly popular when his sister finally convinces him to publish them. Well. “Convinces”. It was more forced.
He can’t be mad about it, though, when those short stories and the ones after them get him invited to England. It’s to an international writer’s conference and the second he’s in England, Ernest can’t help looking around every corner for Peter or even Hook. Of course he doesn’t see either of them, England is a big country and it’s not like either of them have Tinkerbell anymore to lead them to him. The promises in Neverland were long ago, probably forgotten, and Ernest is okay with it.
It doesn’t stop him from pausing every time he sees Peter’s name.
(He’s not as okay with them forgetting about him as he wants to pretend.)
There’s a voice behind him, forming words Ernest can’t quite hear but thinks might be his name. A few times, during the conference, Ernest has been approached and each has felt just as weird as the last. It’s not as if he’s famous– though, he supposes, to be brought here he has to have some form of fame even if it’s never felt like it, he’s always written more for his sister than anyone else– but plenty of people want to make connections here. Or are simply curious about the different writers here. The styles, the experiences. Though this approach feels the oddest, something about the excited voice followed by a calmer baritone niggling at the back of Ernest’s mind.
Ernest turns and registers first short, choppy dirty blonde hair on a skinny man close to his height and a hawkish nose on a broader man several inches taller than him. His eyes widen, breath stealing from his throat. The dirty blonde gives a familiar impish grin, like he knew all along and Ernest turning simply confirmed his thoughts. Maybe Peter never needed Tinkerbell to be oddly observant, nor needed Neverland to appear more fae than human. The conference goes silent around him.
Hook smiles at him, holds out a hand Ernest takes without thinking. It feels like electricity. “James Harrington.”
Peter does the same. His hand feels like home. “Peter Darling.”
Sixth and final chapter of my Polyship Week 2024 fic, Shameful Company, is now up!
(Yes, a bit late, but life happened)
Words: 11.9K
Rating: chapter is General, but fic is Explicit
Relationships: James Bond/Q/OMC, Q & Madeleine Swann, James Bond & Madeleine Swann
"James, MI6 did its damnedest to intentionally, systematically strip you of your ability to form lasting attachments to other people. You adapted to the conditioning, which is how you survived. But now, you have to decide if you want to undo that conditioning.”
Pairing: Cassandra/Rapunzel/Eugene
Fandom: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure
Length: 900 words
Prompt: Day 5 "Only one bed" for @polyshipweek
Zhan Tiri may have blasted a hole through the wall, but Rapunzel’s bed is still intact. Her murals weathered the final battle with minimal damage too.
Most importantly, Cassandra and Eugene emerged from the ordeal unscathed. Rapunzel has not left their sides since Zhan Tiri was defeated and the Sundrop and Moonstone were returned to the heavens.
Night fell fast after the dust settled and everyone was accounted for, and the three of them ended up in Rapunzel’s room. She can’t stop staring at Cassandra’s black hair. Cass looks pale and tired, but her dark eyes are focused and clear.
Eugene has been talking a mile a minute since their victory, trying to defuse any lingering tension, and Cass has told him to shut up three times already, and that’s how Rapunzel knows they’re going to be okay.
“You sure you want to sleep in here, sunshine?” Eugene asks, looking at the debris from the hole in the wall.
“It’s not so bad, Eugene,” she says. “Some fresh air will be nice, and we just spent the afternoon getting the guard back in order, so there’s no danger.”
“Yeah, I mean, what are the odds we get attacked twice in one day?” Eugene agrees.
“Pretty high now that you’ve said it,” Cass puts in.
Rapunzel laughs and sets Pascal on his perch before flopping down on her bed on her back. “This was a good day.”
“Sunshine, we almost got stomped by a giant demon sorcerer lady,” Eugene says.
“The key word is almost,” she says with a sigh. Her body feels liquid against her silk bedding.
“It’s certainly been a day to remember,” Cass says dryly. “I guess I’ll head back to my room. It’s still there, right?”
Rapunzel sits up on her bed. “What? I mean, yeah, it’s still there, but you’re gonna leave? You just got back, Cass.”
“Well, yeah,” she says, but she hesitates.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Eugene says, throwing himself on the bed next to Rapunzel. “Pretty sure Zhan Tiri trashed my room anyway.”
Rapunzel laughs. “You’re welcome here anytime.” She takes his hand, and he squeezes it. “Cass?” Rapunzel says.
Cass huffs as she sits on the edge of the bed. “Someone needs to look after you two.”
“Yay!” Rapunzel squeals. She leans over to kiss Cass on the cheek before she stands up and darts behind her dressing screen to change into her nightclothes.
When she gets back, Eugene has taken off his jacket and boots, and he smiles when he sees her. “I’m gonna have to get used to not calling you blondie anymore.”
“You’ve always been slow on the uptake,” Cass says. She’s still wearing her black and gray bodysuit with the hole where the Moonstone used to be.
Rapunzel digs around in her drawers until she finds what she’s looking for—a white blouse and brown leggings, leftover from a long ago sleepover with Cass. She hands them to her without a word, and if Eugene is surprised that Rapunzel still has some of Cassandra’s clothes in her room, he doesn’t show it.
“Thanks, Raps,” Cass says. She stands and ducks behind the screen.
Rapunzel lays down in bed and rests her head on Eugene’s chest. He plays with the ends of her new haircut.
Cass returns in soft white and brown fabric, and Rapunzel beams at her. She rolls her eyes as she climbs into bed on the other side of Rapunzel.
The princess’s bed is big enough for the three of them, and Rapunzel curls up between Cassandra and Eugene. Eugene drapes an arm over her, and Rapunzel wraps an arm around Cass with a sigh.
“The last time we did this, we were all on the way to the Dark Kingdom,” she says.
“Feels like just yesterday,” Eugene says.
Cass huffs a laugh. “Feels like a lifetime ago to me.”
Internally, Rapunzel agrees with both of them. “Are you still going to leave tomorrow, Cass?’
The former lady-in-waiting is quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she answers. “There’s a big world out there beyond Corona, and we only saw a bit of it.”
“Okay,” Rapunzel says. She knows what Cass means. She knows Cass has to leave for the same reason she did, and for the same reason that she turned down Eugene’s first proposal and floundered at his second. “Will you be coming back?”
“Of course. Just don’t ask me when,” she says.
“We’ll hold you to that,” Eugene says. “So don’t take too long, or Sunshine’ll send the Royal Guard after you.”
“Eugene! I wouldn’t do that!”
“You would,” Cass and Eugene say in unison.
“Only if I was really worried,” she concedes.
The trio falls silent for a moment. Eugene’s arm is warm and comforting around Rapunzel’s waist. She can feel Cass’s steady breathing as her chest rises and falls under Rapunzel’s arm. Eugene lets out a sleepy sigh.
“Will you still be here in the morning?” Rapunzel whispers.
“Yes, Raps,” Cass says, fond and exasperated. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Okay.”
“Now get some sleep.”
“Okay. I love you,” Rapunzel says.
She can practically feel Cass rolling her eyes through their connection. “I love you too.”
“That’s great, but can we have this discussion in the morning?” Eugene says with a yawn.
