#my writing snippets

[screams-in-writing]

Oops my hands slipped again

The end of the smg4 movie struck me with inspiration.

Note for this snippet:

This could technically take place in the performance enhancing coffee au world, if I ever get to that point and it somehow works out. But I desperately wanted to write something with Mr. Wpnz and Mr. Puzzles in it and then I went. Ah yes. Lemme just Introduce that Mc to the former and freak out the latter yessss.

-x

Mr. Puzzles was deep in a conversation with his new…’friend’, a fellow by the name of Mr. Wpnz, who had provided Puzzles with quite the show for him to watch from afar. Quite a violent, action packed one at that! And at times, both heartbreaking and heartfelt. 

Oh, the way some of it had pulled at one’s emotions!

And with the name Mr. Wpnz, Puzzles couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with some else who’d chosen to use ‘Mr’ as a part of their name.  

But that was a minute detail, at present. 

Right now, Mr. Puzzles engaged with this previously beaten-up mostly-mechanical being, now mostly put back together after puzzles had offered a hand in the ‘put back together phase’. After all, Mr. Puzzles had to maintain a partially mechanical body as well, though not one as mechanical as Mr. Wpnz. 

This meeting was the next step; it would be a test to see how this…friendship could pan out. 

With the newly put back together-recuperating weapons man who had all kinds of, well, weapons, packed everywhere on his person, Mr. Puzzles was certain the two of them could have quite a productive meeting.

Really.

How ever could that Karen not want to have such an interesting man about? Even with the violent tendency to fire upon others when things got, well, heated and dangerous, it seemed like Wpnz was someone who could have your back.

If properly motivated, of course. 

Mr. Puzzles sure did hope that he could convince Mr. Wpnz that he himself was a showman, a behind the scenes man, and not a fighter (at least not in the real world; Puzzles’ mind, however, was another matter altogether).

Of course, making any sort of progress in the conversation was dashed by the door suddenly being slammed open and someone very familiar to Mr. Puzzles yelled his name.

“PUZZLES WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME!”

Mr. Puzzles hastily reached out to press down on the gun Mr. Wpnz suddenly turned his hand into, already prepared to fire. 

“And here you are, conversing with some weapon toting weirdo in a dark warehouse?what the heck, Puzzles?” The voice continued on, upset. “Why didn’t you at least let me know you were alive?!”

“I thought there wasn’t supposed to be anyone here but us?” Wpnz growled under his breath at the tv-headed man as he moved his arm out of Puzzles’ grasp, deactivating it. 

“I have been…dating them, before that ah, incident occurred that I told you about. I had yet to inform them that I hadn’t ended up buried under all the rubble.” Mr. Puzzles spun and clapped his hands together as he flashed a nervous, uncertain technicolor smile your way. “Hello, my dear. It has been too long. I do so apologize for not contacting you straight away. I was not in the best of places. You know how I…got, at times, and I’d rather you not see me like that….”  Puzzles voice dropped low, nearly inaudible, and toneless, despite the smile he showed outwardly to you and Wpnz. “Still not in a good place, even now.” 

You looked like you weren’t entirely happy with his explanation. It was likely that you  understood he had been doing his best to not get carried away with his pursuit of a five star rating again, although the theme park HAD gotten a teensy-tiny bit out of hand and it had slipped his mind that you’d be worried about him and-

“-and how’d ya meet this guy? He as interestin’ with his tv shtick as he seems to imply?”

Mr. Puzzles stiffened, whipping his body around, tv head first, to show off an incredibly displeased expression. He didn’t bother to hold the twitching or the strained smile that appeared on his face.

How dare this weapon maniac so causally greet you! Mr. Wpnz didn’t know that you couldn’t be hurt like the rest of the denizens of this world could be. 

“Oh yes I remember!” Mr. Puzzles answered before you could, frantic to have you step away from Wpnz. “We met when I was at my lowest, languishing in recent defeat, and I was shown quite the kindness while I recovered, after some misunderstandings were cleared up. Made some friends in the process, and even a little something more.” Mr. Puzzles pointedly flashed a winning smile to you, hopeful, and continuing to really, really not like the way you were so close to a being more metal than flesh, even more than he. 

You gave Mr. Puzzles a searching look, then turned to Mr. Wpnz, and waved him down to whisper at him.

Puzzles bristled at this, but waited. 

Impatiently. 

He didn’t particularly care for the way that Wpnz began to smirk, his lips curving up and his sharp teeth baring in amusement at whatever you had said to him.

Oh…

No.

no no no.

Mr. Puzzles did not like that one bit. He was very tempted to take the pair of you into his television mind and keep Wpnz there while he attempted to sort things out with you and-

“You serious?” The incredulous tone was genuine; Wpnz was looking at you uncertainly now, all weapons pointed very carefully away from you as he reassessed something, even if he remained stooped. “That’s quite a claim. If it’s true, this ain’t a safe place for ya to be.”

You muttered something again.

…Mr. Puzzles really didn’t want Mr. Wpnz to know about your vulnerability here, but it seems you may have spilled the beans already. Puzzles was upset when you inexplicably allowed Mr. Wpnz to pick you up. Mr. Puzzles spluttered in response, until Wpnz hooked a thumb over a shoulder and the sudden noise that was not something Puzzles wanted to hear with you near.

Why in the world was there a random shootout with reptiles suddenly?

Mr. Puzzles was completely certain there had been no one around when he’d arranged this meeting with Wpnz.

“Get your stuck legs moving!” Mr. Wpnz called, suddenly some distance away with you.

Seeing you wave at him, Mr. Puzzles hastily pursued, long legs allowing him to keep up. At the very least, Wpnz was at least attempting to not jostle you as he ran along.

…perhaps not contacting you straight away to let you know he was still ‘alive’ hadn’t been the the best decision. (Don’t think about Wpnz being an assassin while the man was carrying you)

At least you were being taken away from danger, even if the rude bastard happens to shoot a weapon over his shoulder past Mr. Puzzles with unerring accuracy. 

Mr. Puzzles hadn’t expected the retaliation from the outset behind, and let out an undignified shriek when one of those reptiles shot in their general direction. Another gasp, this one of affront, at Mr. Wpnz’s audacity to backtrack and scoop Puzzles up, tossing him over a shoulder like he weighed nothing. 

“Don’t break my beautiful face!” Mr. Puzzles shouted over the gunfire that was getting closer. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t break ya face, I heard ya the first time.”

Puzzles’ expression turned aggrieved at the way Wpnz held you in the crook of one arm, from the way your legs hung down, as Puzzles found himself looking backward at the ruckus going on. Then, Mr. Puzzles heard you laugh. A mix of an exhilarated ‘wtf is this’ laugh, and a ‘oh no I’m in danger’ nervous laugh. 

Hmm.

Well, he much preferred your laughter to any disappointment. Mr. Puzzles would have to use the time in this (humiliating) retreat to think of how to explain himself more than excuses.

-x

Another note:

The following is what happened later once all three of ‘em get to safety (with some ridiculousness), but I didn’t finish writing it out entirely because my eyes said no more to screen time atm:

MC, inexplicably brandishing the smaller Mr puzzles plush: how could you leave me and your son without knowing you were all right? (Joking around but Mc still upset they were meant to think puzzles was dead dead this past time).

Mr puzzles, absolutely floundering for a response: *utter confusion then faint amusement over the plush*

Mr. Wpnz, watching this familiar yet not familiar back and forth: *misses his wife and kids but knows he can’t have his shooting assassin career and them. Plus he’s bitter about what happened. Pushing away *those* thoughts to deal with at another time, Wpnz decides to be a shit* “yeah how could you?” Drops a hand on mc’s shoulder and shakes his head, motioning at the mc. “And to a face like that?”

‘that’ being mc’s pout of disappointment while still holding the plush of puzzles

Mr puzzles is scandalized that he’s being teamed up on and how dare you let that Wpnz so casually stand next to you (aka tv man doesn’t realize jealousy hitting him in the face)

Wpnz sees something is up but those thoughts are crowding in so he doesn’t notice the jealousy rising up off tv man

you notice it and dramatically lean against Wpnz while lamenting that it’s so difficult to go on in life without knowing if you were ever going to see him again.

puzzles is despairing when Wpnz plays along for nothing better to do.

Mc is just going ah yes new friend with a distressing amount of weapons who seems to know my tv man bf this will be interesting.

puzzles laments ever meeting with Wpnz as he would have rather you avoided meeting him.

[moondust-bard]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by @illarian-rambling — thank you for thinking of me!

Rules: share the last line you have written

Hunched over her rickety desk, spine curled forward like a shepherd’s crook, Mordelia squints as the archaic alchemical symbols inked onto fragile parchment swim maddeningly, evading her careful scrutiny. Her shoulders began to cramp and twitch hours ago, but she would not be dragged from her work by a sensation as trifling as discomfort— not when she is so close to decoding the arcane message hidden within the delicate threads of her mother’s tapestry.

I’m tagging @isabellebissonrouthier

@saintedseraph @sleepyowlwrites @acertainmoshke and @incandescent-creativity

[indighostoast]

Ghost being Ghost and writing about Green for the 30th time and giving my problems to this guy.

Featuring: Imposter Syndrome being Imposter Syndrome

Based off a real life experience, and a fight I have with myself almost every single day.

Delete.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He checked his phone for the third time. With his other hand on a fork; stabbing into a bowl of mac-and-cheese. 

“Green, no phones at the dinner table.” 

“Sorry.” He turned his phone on silent, placing it back on the table. Taking a bite of the food. 

Pain started to erupt in his chest, forcing him to stop chewing halfway. 

Why? It seemed to be saying to him. 

Why do you deserve all this attention? 

He pushed it away the best he could, continuing to eat. Another bite. Swallow. 

Fraud. 

Liar. 

Undeserving. 

It’s what he wanted. He tried arguing back. 

Another bite, take a sip of water. 

You didn’t even put any work into it. Nobody likes it. 

A lie. People did like it. They loved it. 

Did they? 

He reached for his phone again, despite the reminder from earlier. Placing his fork down and gripping it with both hands. 

Comments. Comments. 

How did he get so many notifications in a few short minutes? 

He closed all of them, opening Youtube. Scroll through recommendations. Open his channel. 

Out of all the videos, why this? Why him?

Talented. Not because he was talented. He learned he wasn’t the only one who’s talented. 

Anyone could do it, people have already done it. 

“Green, what did I just say?” Blue was starting to get exasperated. 

“Sorry,” He barely glanced up, still focused on the screen. “I-” 

He stopped, with the realization that it would only all sound stupid. Like the ideas, like all of his ideas. Everyone else seemed to love what he created. Emphasis on everyone else. 

So instead he excused himself, making up a half-hearted comment about having to use the bathroom. He sat on top of a staircase, instead. Almost tripping when he went up while he was opening his channel page. 

His videos are on full display. For everyone to see.

It was kind of his intention, even if whole YouTube idea wasn’t his. 

He looked at one, the latest one with him trying out a vlog. Sitting down on the steps, he watched the clip.

He paused and closed out before it even reached the halfway point. Ignoring the comments.

Stupid. All stupid. 

Who was he to think anyone would care? Even if they all did care? 

It was stupid, again. 

Undeserved. 

And how did he just now see how disinterested everyone looked? That’s what the viewers probably all secretly thought of him. Willing to leave at every miniscule mistake. 

Anyone could do it. Just mediocre. 

So generic, so unoriginal. 

Anybody could do the same, half your age and ten times better. 

Almost automatically, his finger hovered over the Delete button. Hesitating. 

No one wants to see it. 

No one truly likes it. 

Delete. 

Are you sure you want to delete this? It asked. 

No. I don’t. 

The pain increased, tenfold. He pushed it away.

He decided to put the phone away, instead. Wasn’t worth all the engagement he already got. 

They want it, the viewers want it. 

No matter how horrible it felt inside. 

Just cool,  just good. Just interesting. 

Nothing else. They’ll like it. They want more of him. 

He’ll give them that. He just needed more people to like him. 

Before they got sick of it. 

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is...

Sad

Face/Body:

Avoidant/reduced eye contact

Drooping eyelids

Downcast eyes

Frowning

Raised inner ends of eyebrows

Dropped or furrowed eyebrows

Quivering lip/biting lip

Wrinkled nose

Voice:

Soft pitch

Low lone

Pauses/hesitant speech

Quiet/breathy

Slow speech

Voice cracks/breaking voice

Gestures/Posture:

Slouching/lowered head

Rigid/tense posture

Half formed/slow movement

Fidgeting or clasped hands

Sniffing or heavy swallows

Self soothing gestures (running hands over the arms, hand over heart, holding face in palms, etc)

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #10

"Oh hell naw!"

Goon Nr.1 shouted the moment the bag got pulled of Danny's head, and he squinted at the light. His eyes adjusted.

"I am not paid enough to deal with a Wayne kid!" Goon Nr.2 groan.

Danny blinked again. Now he could just... easily walk out of this, but the school trip had been boring, and he thought he could get in some rough housing if he let this men... like kidnapped him. You know? Like he does with his ghost rogues. But this was unexpected now that these guys were apparently getting a closer look at him.

"Come on its Wayne kid! The Ransom will be a big pay out." Goon Nr.3 said cheerful.

Danny blinked again, the other two goons giving the third one a rather deadpan stare.

"New guy?" Nr.2 asked.

"New guy." Nr.1 confirmed.

Okay, this was the point on which Danny was now puzzled. Who were the Wayne's? Why was kidnapping them bad? And was this a good moment to transform and get a bit of brawl in? He really wanted some action after all the museums and sightseeing trips Mr. Lancer took the class on.

Goon Nr.1 was now patting Nr.3's shoulder like he was an innocent child. "Dude, we don't mess with the Waynes because that alerts the Bats. We don't want to deal with Batman if we don't have too."

"Last time I worked for Peguin, he strung me up and tied me to a roof..." Nr.2 shivered.

"I saw him take out ten guys at once before... ran for my life that day." Nr.1 sighted before he shook his head. "And that's when Batman has a good day. On a bad day... you will have broken bones."

"And in the worst case, you get one of his spawns to show up instead." Goon Nr.2 added on.

"Uh... Spawns?" Danny couldn't help but ask, blinking from his spot on a chair, no longer tied onto it as he had already phased out of the ropes while they weren't looking.

"The Robin's!" The two goons said in sync and then proceeded to launch into an explanation about the Robin's, their theory about which Robin became which other vigilante according to the timeline and how Red Hood fit into that theory and also why they were so much worse when they showed up instead of Batman.

Danny won't deny it. That was kind of the most interesting part of his school trip now, as he sat there nodding along to the explanation Goon Nr.1 and Nr.2 were giving him and Nr.3.

Meanwhile...

Mr. Lancer was panicked. One Danny Fenton was missing. A Fenton was mission. He lost a God damn Fenton in an unknown city. He needed to do damage control and that quickly. Unknowingly alerting the Bats to the situation through contacting the GCPD to find one blue-eyed, black haired teenager.

[bugstung]

Miraculous Ladybug redesign ft disabled Adrien and some thoughts

[existwound]

can you believe these guys still dance around each other at every reunion even years later???

[saltystingray]

Drowning in anger unfiltered, i see now we are two sides of the same coin. There is no glory to be had, and pride has no place here. May the best man win.

(Do not edit or repost)

[ghostgoing]

“YOU!”

Jason turned his head to see a small guy with black hair pointing at him. He was wearing a light grey hoodie and jeans.

“Your ancestor has been haunting me for MONTHS!” Danny tilted his head, looking at Hood’s chest. “They weren’t wrong, you really do need to see a ghost doctor. What the fuck is up with your ecto?”

“My what?” Red Hood said. “ are you the guy people around here have been talking about? The one who can talk to the dead?”

“More like the dead won’t stop talking to me.”

[regency-monster-love]

Think of all the Wet White Shirt scenes in period dramas. Now imagine that instead of a man in a wet white shirt, it's an Orc. The wet fabric is practically see-through now, making all the lines of his green muscles and his thick black body hair visible to you. Maybe you can even see that his nipples are pierced. It's scandalous, but you can't help but stare, nor can you help getting a bit aroused. And the orc smells it—suddenly he's not so embarrassed to be seen so improperly attired.

[screams-in-writing]

oops my hands slipped

what do you mean I’m obsessed over this man? I have no idea what you could possibly mean I think I like him…a normal amount. :)

A lazy day off would have been the same old, same old, had you not met a certain someone several months ago. A certain someone who appeared to have gotten it into mind that these days off were for the two of you to dote upon one another, not run errands.  

That certain someone sure did love having your full undivided attention on him; delighted in every second of it, come to think of it. The novelty of being in the company of someone who wanted to be there. And when his mind wasn’t on his never-ending quest for high-ratings and whatever else he had planned (that he had yet to reveal), he showered that attention back on you with an intensity that bordered on almost alarming.

Mr. Puzzles was quite an intense individual when he was focused.

Which was why you were currently stuck in bed in your pajamas at ten in the morning, the man alongside you clearly requiring attention from the way he’d been curled up around you from behind for hours and hours.

For the time being, he was quite content to use you as a body pillow while he hummed some new song he wanted to implement into some future show. It was a novelty to Mr. Puzzles to be integrated into a team, after being on his own tor so long trying to do everting himself. It was slow going to convince him it’d turn out well; at the very least, he hadn’t dragged anyone into the world he held within his head for…at least a month, if that. He could be very passionate if an idea grasped him in the moment.

The static currently emanating from Mr. Puzzles’ face was a nice, warm and ticklish sensation to you; likely why he’d craned down to press the screen to the nape of your neck after avoiding the hair this past hour.

Muffled laughter sounded over the squirm of surprise from you when his arms gently squeezed tighter around your middle.

There came a light, heavy two to the side of your neck.

Then again, slower this time.

Nuzzling was awkward but somehow, the man with a tv for a head was able to make it work, somehow managing to be even closer to you as he pressed in to firmly rub his screen into neck and occasionally, shoulder, through fabric.

A cheerful morning news show clip briefly played in response to you asking him if he was awake and not just laughing in his sleep with automated laughs.

Tease. 

With a wriggle backward, Mr. Puzzles reluctantly loosened his arms from around you to allow you to turn over in arms. From the expectant expression displayed on the screen tilted down toward you right now, Mr. Puzzles had an idea of what you wanted. 

After receiving silent consent in the form of leaning his body, and in turn, his tv head closer, you reached up to lightly trace fingers along his screen. The light touch made Mr. Puzzles’ face and multi-colored smile switch briefly into static gray and white fuzz before a pleased expression popped up with a great big doofy grin that hid the, as you liked to call it, ‘crazy unhinged madman that trapped people like puppets in his head’.

It was a work in progress, that.

No, you did not want Mr. Puzzles to trap your coworkers in the world inside the tv he held sway over, even if you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics initially as well as the absurdity of it being possible (right along with a man who had a tv for a head). Right before scolding the man and making him reluctantly relinquish the unwilling participants aka a small number of your coworkers.

Currently, Mr. Puzzles face sagged into your touch, hands bracing on either side of your shoulders to loom over you without falling over. A quick, sneaky turn of one of the dials on the left side of his head made him jerk his body to the side and back. But then with a sly look, indulged you by briefly playing some cheesy romcom on the screen before Mr. Puzzles’ made his move when one of your hands went to shoulder. 

Gently, carefully, he leaned his lanky body over so his screen could press to your face, making you close you eyes to enjoy the odd sensation of electrical currents and fuzzy static as a teasing voice spoke from the speaker of the tv.

“I see you, my newest star actor, quite close up. Have you anything to say to your…riveted watcher?”

“Your watcher of one for the morning?” Blindly reaching up, you turned the screen down a tad and planted a big ole kiss on the dumbass’ screen with an overdone ‘mwah’ sound. “How’s that for an answer, Mr. Host of one?”

Static sparked out the top of Mr. Puzzles’ antenna and the sides of his screen. His tv head briefly jerked back, revealed a slightly unhinged, if very intense look fixed directly on you.

“Quite the compliment, I’d say.” Mr. Puzzles purred, tone a little deeper as static overlapped his voice, digital eyes intent on you. “Would you care to do a repeat performance? To see if it was truly a 5-star rating for my show of one?”

You dragged this smug asshole man down by the shoulders to pepper his screen face in kisses while he mock-defended himself with dramatic flair. Then, all at once, Mr. Puzzles rolled the two of you over on the bed so you could sprawl yourself comfortably on top of him, playing with the collar of his dress shirt as he similarly fidgeted with your hair.

“Are you quite certain you don’t want to be my co-host?” Mr. Puzzles prodded with a wide screen across the screen.

“You asked me that already.” You pointed out, a faint shudder rolling through you as Mr. Puzzles leaned up to rest the side of his boxy tv head against your own to whisper smoothly, lowly, conspiringly.

“Until you give me a direct answer, my dear.”

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! Big fan of your writing. Would you like to write a snippet about an evil vampire who is only soft to their human even though they swear that the human is nothing to them more than a convenient source of food .

"You are bleeding."

"I'm sorry. I've not-" The human gestured vaguely at the bowl. "I've not wasted any. I swear."

The vampire appeared at their side in a flash, and that would have been absolutely terrifying if the human wasn't so used to it. Well. It was still a little terrifying. Everything about them was always a little terrifying.

The vampire's cold gaze roamed between the large gash on the human's hand to the elegant mixing bowl tinged bloody, then to the knife left clattered on the counter. The remnants of dinner prep.

Their eyes went pinprick scarlet. That, and the slight inhale of a breath, was the only sign of the uncontrollable and insatiable thirst that so drove their species.

"Stupid accident," the human said. They felt a little woozy. "Sorry. I know it's not as good when it's not fresh but I- um." Well. The generous description was that they panicked.

They had no idea what the vampire would do if they wasted blood, even by accident.

"Hm." The vampire picked up the sharp kitchen knife, licking the wasted droplets from its wicked edge. "Have you considered trying to stem the bleeding?"

It took the human a second to process, to wrench themselves away from staring.

"Didn't get that far. I just sort of thought, 'shit, blood'. Catch it!"

"How considerate."

"You know me," the human tried for a laugh, "I aim to please and not die."

"Indeed."

The laugh had come out a bit strangled. The human cleared their throat. "Speaking of catching blood...would you like to be my receptacle instead of the mixing bowl, seeing as you're here now anyway? Hungry?"

Though that raised the question of why exactly their vampire had appeared. The forces of darkness and evil did not usually make themselves known before sundown, even if the manor was all tinted and sun-blocked windows. The smell of fresh blood must have woken them.

The vampire responded by reaching down and ripping a length off their no doubt expensive and very fine linen night shirt.

The human's eyes widened. "Uh..."

"Hand."

The human obediently surrendered their hand. They watched in mild astonishment as the vampire made quick work of cleaning and bandaging their hand, using their ruined clothes like an old-fashioned tourniquet.

"Didn't know you knew how to do that," the human mumbled. "You know we have a first aid kit in the bathroom upstairs?"

"A what?"

"A first aid kit. Medicine kit. With bandages and plasters and stuff."

"And yet you were bleeding into your mixing bowl."

"Well, the bathroom's a long way to go dripping blood on your floors."

"Hm."

"I'm sorry I woke you. It's - I'm okay. I really didn't waste any."

"Good. Your blood is precious. How is your hand? Does it hurt?"

"It's okay. I'm okay."

"You need to be more careful."

"I'm sorry."

"You're a fragile thing, you could have taken a finger off."

"Sorry. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Hm." The vampire's sharp gaze flicked over them again.

The human realised, belatedly, that the vampire was still cradling their hand. They flushed. The vampire let go.

"Sit," the vampire ordered. "What are you making? Tell me what to do."

"What?" They were sure they'd only cut their hand, not suffered some form of brain damage that caused hallucinations.

The vampire's eyes narrowed; ever disinclined to repeating themselves.

"Uh..." The human swallowed. "Chop the veg. Put veg in frying pan."

They watched the vampire get to work. It was bizarre. They'd never seen the vampire do anything around the house. Their immortality was a thing of hedonistic cruelties, tempered only by the fact that it was easier to pay someone to take the role of blood bag in the modern age than kidnap them.

"You really don't have to do that for me," they said.

"Are you suggesting that somewhere in the last thousand years I became incapable of chopping vegetables?"

"No. No, of course not."

"Then hold your tongue. I don't pay you to question me or for your opinions. You're a walking blood bag."

"Right. Right, yeah. Sorry."

The vampire made them dinner, following instructions in a way that the human truly had thought them too proud for, as the sun sank slow and pretty beyond the window.

"Thank you," the human said, nonplussed, when the vampire eventually loaded a full dinner plate. They were more nonplussed when the vampire didn't hand it over, though, simply holding a fork up to the human's mouth. "Er...my hand is okay. I can hold cutlery. I know I don't heal vampire fast but..."

"You're questioning me again."

"Right. Sorry." The human accepted the mouthful of food, then another. Their stomach did something weird and flipping beneath the vampire's strange care, their intent focus.

"Good," the vampire murmured.

In the aftermath of dinner, the night black and endless beyond the windows, they stared at each other.

The human's heart pounded. They were all too aware of the fact that the vampire could hear it. All of their normal, comfortable routines felt disrupted somehow.

They wet their abruptly dry lips.

"Don't hurt yourself again, pet," the vampire said abruptly. "That's my job."

Then they were gone.

[cacaocheri]

thinking about how sun is a touchy bastard and needs to be soooo sneaky to get closer to yn

[baambastic]

“Drake,” Damian announced, “I require your presence at an outing this afternoon.”

“‘Hello, Tim, how are you?’ ‘I’m good, Damian, and how about you? Did you need something?’ It’s usually considered polite not to walk in and immediately make demands of people, Damian,” Tim replied from where he was hunched over his keyboard. He didn’t look over at his unexpected visitor, but he bet the brat was rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. Will you do it or not?”

Tim hummed. “Depends on what this ‘outing’ is. And why you didn’t ask Bruce or Dick to take you.”

“Father and Grayson are both imbeciles,” Damian huffed.

“They’re too busy today, you mean?”

“I meant what I said. Are you an imbecile like they are?”

“Again, you haven’t told me what it is you want to do.”

“Fine,” Damian grumbled. “Colin has asked me to do something called an ‘escape room’ with him. It sounded mildly diverting, so I looked into it. There’s a recently opened establishment for such an activity, but we need four people to participate.”

“And you want me to be one of those four,” Tim concluded. He pushed himself away from the computer. “I’ve got time, so sure, I’ll come with. Two things, though.” He paused for dramatic effect.

Damian crossed his arms impatiently. “Yes?”

Tim grinned. “First, who’s this Colin?”

“An acquaintance. He assisted me in apprehending Victor Zsasz not long ago.”

“Is he around your age?”

“Approximately.”

Was he some sort of meta, then? How else would a (presumably untrained) kid be able to handle Zsasz? Tim decided to file that away for later inspection. At least it sounded like Damian was making friends. He definitely needed some. “Alright then, second thing. You said you needed four people. Even with me, you only have three. Who’s your fourth?”

Damian looked away. “I… hadn’t gotten that far yet.” Was that embarrassment Tim heard in his voice? Damian was usually too proud for that.

“Okay, not a problem. I can wrangle us another person.” If the person he was thinking of could make it, both Damian and them could get a lot out of this. Hurrah for two birds with one escape-room-shaped stone.

“Very well. Colin and I will be waiting outside for you. I presume this fourth person will meet us at the establishment?”

“Probably, yeah. Did you really leave Colin on my doorstep?”

“He did not want to enter, I would say because he thought he might be unwelcome. A stupid notion; you are far too trusting.”

“Thanks,” Tim said drily. He waved towards the door. “Alright, lemme make this call.”

Damian nodded and walked away. Before fully exiting the room, though, he turned back to Tim. “What are you working on, anyway?” he asked.

Tim hummed. “Nothing much. Just preparing.” He didn’t offer any further explanation. After a few moments of waiting expectantly, Damian huffed and left.

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is…

Nervous/Anxious

Face:

Darting eyes/avoiding eye contact

Rapid blinking

Tense jaw

Looking upwards when talking or fixing eyes on a more distant point

Furrowed (or raised) brows

Frowning

Blushing 

Micro-expressions- quick/short facial expressions like suddenly widening their eyes or a brief grimace

Voice:

Shaky or trembling

Higher pitch or thin

Breathy

Wavering

Raspy or slightly cracked

Hesitant

Speaking quickly or stuttering

Choppy (many pauses in speech)

Shorter, clipped words (staccato)

Gestures/Posture:

Tense, closed off stance

Hunched shoulders

Body is stiffened

Crossed arms

Fidgeting

Touching clothes

Cracking knuckles

Bouncing knee

Subtly covering their mouth

[villain-enthusiast]

TOUCH-STARVED HERO RAHH.

.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, actually,” the hero muttered from their sloppy position on the ground, though the oozing gash slicing across their torso and the fresh bruises circling their throat said otherwise.

The villain arched a brow, crouching down so they were eye level with the hero. “Do you think I’m dumb?”

The hero glowered at them. “Seems like you're deaf, actually. I said I’m fine,” they snapped, even as pain shuddered through their battered body. “Now if you could just get out of my way—,”

“Darling, please. You couldn’t stand up even if you tried, let alone walk yourself halfway across the city to your apartment.” The villain smirked at the hero’s deepening scowl, but the teasing flair didn't quite reach their eyes. “Let me do you a small favor while I’m here, at least.”

The hero bared their teeth. “Fuck off. I don’t need your stupid healing powers. You'll probably turn this into one of your idiotic bargains—," A harsh coughing fit cut them off, rattling their chest.

They tasted blood on their tongue. Fuck.

“Gosh, so prideful." The villain sighed, tilting their head. "Oh look at that, you're bleeding." They lifted a hand and ran a thumb over their hero's lips, wiping away a smattering of blood that had spilled from their mouth.

The hero's breath hitched at the villain's touch, the smallest, most delicate of noises escaping them before they could stop themselves.

The villain paused, their brow furrowing as their gaze took in every little movement and detail of the hero's involuntary response.

The hero's jaw tightened. Every muscle in their body screamed at them to get away, but they couldn't move. Or was it that they didn't want to move? "Villain, I swear—,"

Then the villain’s hand was cupping their cheek, and the hero melted.

A desperate whimper tore from their throat, their head lolling into the cool touch of the villain's palm as all the pain and exhaustion radiating through their body suddenly evaporated.

They closed their eyes, feeling their face begin to burn with shame.

"Oh, sweetheart," the villain murmured. Their other hand swept through the matted strands of the hero's hair, working through the tangles.

The hero had to bite down on their lip so that they didn't make another embarrassing noise. So gentle. The villain's touch was so, so gentle. So at odds to their earlier opponent's strangling grip and blinding punches, so contrasting to gaping loneliness and helplessness of coming home to no one, of having to painfully stitch themselves up day after day after day...

The villain brushed away a tear that the hero didn't realize had fallen.

"Hey, look at me," the villain said softly, nudging their chin up. The hero blinked at them, fighting back a sob. "You need to let me heal you, okay? You're losing a lot of blood."

The hero swallowed, barely processing the villain's words, their brain entirely occupied by the hand still on their face—or maybe it was just the blood loss. "Yeah," they managed, voice hoarse. It felt like their vocal chords were coated in tar.

"I'm going to do your stomach first," the villain noted. "I need both my hands for this, alright?"

The hero nodded, ignoring the inevitable panic that shot through them at the sudden absence of the villain's touch, which returned almost immediately on the deep laceration on their lower torso.

The hero cringed, bracing for some kind of torturous, painful mending, but the villain's powers were warm, soft, like honey in a cup of hot tea or a crackling fireplace during a winter storm. God, how many years had it been since they'd felt so comforted?

A whimper escaped the hero once more. They tensed. Jesus fucking christ.

The villain cracked a smile as they worked. "Don't worry, love. You're not the first person I've healed that enjoys the feeling." They brushed a palm over the wound, weaving the hero's flesh and skin back together. "This is gonna scar, but at least you'll live to see another day, hm?"

The hero scoffed weakly, still drunk on the villain's magic.

The villain swept their hands over the hero's body, feeling for more damage. "Gosh, Hero," they hummed, "you get yourself into so much trouble, do so much for this pitiful city, and for what?" They placed their hands on the hero's battered neck, soothing the inflammation. "When's the last time someone took care of you?" they asked quietly, but the question seemed more for themselves than for the hero.

Several heartbeats passed before the villain pulled away, finished with their work. The hero couldn't stop themselves from chasing their touch, nearly toppling over.

The villain caught them before they hit the ground, chuckling. "Oh, what am I gonna do with you?"

The hero felt a lump form in their throat at the thought of the villain leaving. I'm not gonna make it home. Not without Villain. They squeezed their eyes shut, swallowing their pride. "Please," they whispered. "Take me home. All I ask."

"Don't need to ask me twice." The villain swept the hero up into their arms, smirking at their indignant (and exhausted) glare. "You're not walking, sorry. You're getting all my love and special treatment today." They winked, as if they were joking.

But as the villain paced their way to the hero's apartment, and as the hero began to fall asleep in their arms, they both knew it wasn't a joke.