Prompt 101
The Fentons have created a machine! A wonderful machine that will reveal a ghost’s true form! So that everyone will see their trickery! They’ll see that the monsters they really are!
Now, to know what all went wrong, one would have to know some things about the ghost zone, and more specifically the area the Fentons had managed to punch through to.
For one, ghosts do not age like humans. Oh they might take a form similar to that of their death, which may appear as an adult or teen or something similar, but with how they can only die by the complete destruction of their core, theoretically a ghost could live forever once formed.
In fact, the equivalent of eighteen years for a ghost was one-hundred realms-years dead. And those years don’t always sync up with the years of the living world that one might open a door into. Thankfully, the Fenton’s world, being one of those synced closer to the Realms, only had a time dilation of a few seconds.
That being said, the area their portal had ripped into was incredibly rich in ectoplasm. And areas like that, were where newborn ghosts were formed and arrived. A ghost daycare of sorts, almost akin to a toddler area of the zone.
Which meant that when they shoot the Phantom-menace and other pesky ghosts to revert them into their true form, it isn’t exactly monsters that appear. Instead, there are now several ghost toddlers- or in the phantom-trio’s case literal babies- flying around. Very unhappy ghost toddlers.
What a horrible time for the Justice League to arrive. Though perhaps some would say it was actually perfect timing.
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The LAYERS needed in a modern/human Dreamling au. Some level of Endless family dysfunction, obviously. Hob's family can be be dead or not, it's all good. Are they old enough to have individually gained the awareness they are off-puttingly intense and should hide it a bit at first, or still in that "no, why would I need to Elsa this" stage?
Option A is both of them trying to play it cool, like "don't scare him off" except they so badly want to go from zero to sixty.
(Death and Desire have ruthlessly drilled Dream with flashcards about how to react appropriately in situations.
Desire: it's your one-month anniversary, what do you do?
Dream: [hesitantly] NOT propose?
Desire and Death, conferring, because that's technically correct but the delivery was suspect.
Death, encouragingly: Good start. And?
Dream: a nice dinner and maybe a walk?
Desire: well done!
Death: and for a three-month anniversary?
Dream: give them a key to my flat.
Desire: [airhorn] NO. RED CARD.)
Option B makes them the classic anecdotal "my grandparents got engaged within seven days of meeting each other and still are happy together".
(Death, rubbing her temples: so you met this guy--
Dream: Hob
Death: -- Hob, and within 1 day you gave notice to the Registrar's Office and figured out the best day to get married. And Hob agreed to this?
Dream: NO.
Death: oh thank go-
Dream: Hob SUGGESTED this.
Death: . . .
Dream: are you going to be a witness or not?
Death, 29 days later in the Registrar's Office, to Hob's witness: Is he sane?
Johanna Constantine, drinking heavily from a large flask: unfortunately yes, by all legal definitions.
Death: fuck
Johanna: [passing the flask over] if your brother's even a tenth as intense as Hob, they'll be fine. Probably.
Death, brightening: Is Hob that bad?
Johanna: You know how sometimes you meet somebody and think "oof, they're a bit much, best give them a wide berth"?
Death: yeah.
Johanna: Hob's like a camouflaged hole in the ground of muchness. Except he's done the hole up all nice and he knows that sometimes you just want to be left alone in the hole to sulk and rattle the spikes for a bit, and occasionally get a F&M hamper tossed in.
Death: [hmmmmmmm'ing approvingly]
Johanna, morose: the bastard.
In the background, Hob and Dream are pressing their foreheads together and basking in each other's presence)
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heads up! mentions of a past abusive relationship (for reader). this should really go on wooahaes but i'm too lazy to format it rn and i need sleep so take this ig??? i might repost over there some other time....
there's things that are unfair about having a boyfriend like vernon. you think one of them is how pretty he can look when he's sleeping.
of course, he's still human. he ends up with messy hair, and sometimes he drools, and there's about a thousand other things you can list off about him when he sleeps... but he's still your boyfriend. and thus, every little 'flaw' he has is something you consider pretty on him. he would (and will, when he's in a sappy enough mood) say the exact same about you, to be fair. he shifts a little in his sleep, stretching and reaching for you.
you still remember overhearing him talk to his mom the morning after you slept in the same bed as him for the first time. it'd literally only been sleeping, but you heard him quietly say 'they trust me a lot,' to her while on the phone. he'd been unpacking breakfast. when she asked about it, he merely said "they fell asleep next to me. they've never done that before. i think... i think they trust me," in that pensive way, like he's thinking more than he's actually saying.
(i do, you told him later. trust you. i think i love you, too. and it'd been what made him say that he loves you for the first time--something he didn't expect to hear back without that 'i think' to protect yourself. you said it to him a few weeks later, and he teared up--although he'll always deny it when you bring it up now.)
"you're staring again." he pulls you out of your thoughts with ease, and his eyes meet yours in the low light. "what's wrong?"
you saw today's date. some birthdays never leave you, and that's true of the person who hurt you. the person you only told vernon about a few months ago in full, although he knew of the person's existence before then. you remember what that person said to you, too. that you didn't need anyone else aside from them...
"nothing," you say, and it's a half-lie. it'll bother you a little more, but you don't want to have this talk now. not when you're already starting to drift off, safe in his presence. vernon's good at protecting you from ugly feelings that settle into your bones like an unwanted guest. "we'll talk later, honey."
he gives you a uncertain look. "you only call me honey when you're upset."
(it's a mutual thing: he calls you either by your name or a casual dude any other time, and baby and babe and love of my life whenever he's trying to avoid a topic temporarily. the two of you communicate: vernon's good at making you feel safe in that, too.)
"right," you say. "we'll talk in the morning... homie."
it earns a crackling snort from him, and he smiles that cute gummy smile as he hides his face for a moment. "ah, really... god, you're such a dork sometimes, i swear."
"a dork who landed you," you always remind him. yet when his eyes meet yours a moment later, you feel something warm in your chest that washes away that ugly feeling all too easily. you reach out, holding his face. "i think... i won."
"you won?"
"you love me," you say. "my friends love me... i'm loved," you say quietly, and the feeling still feels a little foreign. you are loved, you repeat mentally for a moment: because they see you as you, not the broken mess you feel you are. "so i won."
vernon gets it soon enough, and he nods. "you won," he says quietly. "i'm glad you're here... homie."
you crack up, too, and he quietly laughs at his own little moment with you. his laugh and his smile always make you giggle, too, and he pulls you in to kiss you happily.
"i love you," he mumbles against your lips, "i love you, i love you, i love you--" and he keeps planting kisses against against and around your lips to punctuate every repeat of the phrase, before he draws back, satisfied after being struck with the need to be overly sappy. "alright?"
gone is that bitter feeling that once flashed through your veins and settled into your bones. all you feel now is love, soft and sweet, as you're so openly reminded that you're not alone. that the two of you shoulder these problems together. you won, you think, because you are alive and being loved and learning to love wholeheartedly again.
"yeah," you settle in to sleep, planning to keep to your promise of talking come morning. "i love you, too, you big sap."
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