#prompt snippet

[incorrecttheconjuringquotes]

During the media interview in the second Conjuring film, I always wondered if Judy ever actually saw it while watching TV.

Ever since stumbling upon this fanfic that expanded on what happened before, during, and after the interview scene, a question popped into my head: how do you think she must’ve felt when one of the guest interviewers insulted Lorraine and Ed got ticked off at that? What was Drew thinking when he noticed Judy watching the interview?

Ooo okay, forgive me if i should have read this fic before replying to this. I have ideas!

Have you seen Annabelle Comes Home where she has to deal with it all and gets teased? I feel like Judy has enough of both Ed and Lorraine in her that it kinda vibes? I think Ed and her have joined forces as a Protect Lorraine club (and Lorraine provides plenty of hugs) . Lil story under the cut

Drew will never understand how he got into this. His mother would say it's some demonic weirdness, his father claims he didn't play enough sports, the things he's seen? Well. Those are the true reason.

When he fell in with Ed and Lorraine, it was a slow process. A few semesters of school, a few letters, a few follow ups and soon he was the third researcher in their group. Third researcher and second most trusted babysitter.

He can't say he hates being so trusted, but lord, it's a Saturday night and he's sitting at their kitchen table playing solitatire while the soup heats. (He can't leave it alone on the stove again, Lorraine may have laughed when Judy explained her heroics to save them from a burnt dinner; However, Ed still brings it up and he knows, he just knows, he would have met the spirits first hand if anything had happened to Judy.

So he's here. The soup is there, across the room. Judy is getting her homework done in front of the TV, with plans of a boardgame once dinner finishes.

It's as he's praying for a two of spades that he feels more than sees Judy slink into the room.

"Math all done, Judes?"

But her words don't great him, he flips cards from his hand, the two nowhere in sight.

"Are they, are people always like that?"

The stillness of her voice plows through his focus.

"Who?"

And she's grabbing his arm, rounding the table, pulling him behind her as she makes her way back to the living room. School books are spread on the coffee table, pencil box opened, page of far too many calculations tucked inside the book's spine.

"Them."

And he sees it.

Shit.

He sees it.

Another interview, another sceptic, another attack, another defense.

"They're not always like that, Squirt." He says with a smile, trying to ruffle her hair and troubles away

The stillness and look in her eyes remind him of who this girl is, who her mother is, who-

"Some people don't want to understand what they can't see."

"Hmm." But her voice only seems to tighten as she watches her parents on screen, father arguing, mother soothing

"They still do it though." Judy pauses, seems to nod, seems to understand, "It's cuz it's important right?"

"Right."

Drew settles onto the couch, Judy retaking her place on the floor beside her books.

"Dad says that's why they met." She replies, taking up a pencil as she watches her mother put an arm on her father's. She knows that action, that look. Has seen it many times.

Has seen her father's protection just as much.

"Your parents are some of the smartest people I know, Judes."

A grin and she can't help but beam at the compliment.

"Is, is something burning?"

"Damn it!" And he's running

[inafieldofdaisies]

18. bear hugs

For Mary May and Cal (with Zorro maybe?) <3

Prompt from this post.

Mary May followed what could barely be called a path snaking through the woods, her eyes periodically darting down to the crudely drawn map Calahan had left for her. "I will be waiting, Angel." was scribbled next to an X marking what he deemed his favorite fishing spot that as far she could tell wasn't any of the ones the locals frequented. Multiple times she questioned her decision to come at all, trying to convince herself to turn around and trek back to her truck before she would inevitably lose daylight and end up completely lost. "This is dumb. Foolish as hell.", she mumbled out loud, her frown deepening as she navigated the rough terrain, "And Casey from all people is manning the bar. It would be a miracle if it's still standing when I return." Yet no matter how many times she reminded herself John's men could choose that exact moment to make another move, a part of her that always took over against her better judgment anytime Hartley was around, pulled her forward like a niddle of a compass, like she could feel him near and was drawn to find him at any cost. Compass- another thing she wished she had taken with her along with a goddamned flashlight. For a second she contemplated calling out for Calahan, sensing she must be getting closer to the place he was supposed to be waiting for her at, then she decided against the idea, worrying about drawing the attention of any Peggies that knowing her luck, could be lurking in the woods. "Should have brought my shotgun. Fucking stupid… leaving it in my truck, because 'who the fuck brings a shotgun to a date'?", her hands clutched the map tighter when she heard twings snapping somewhere to her left that made her pick up her pace.

Just when she was about to spin on her heel and completely give up on Calahan's reckless plan, the path finally opened up to quite the breathtaking view, especially with the sun beginning to set: a shoreline of a small lake that John by some miracle still hadn't stained with a Baptism spot. "Rookie?", she hollered as she shoved the map into her back pocket and scanned the area for any signs of life, "Cal? You better not have sent me on a wild goose chase, I swear I won't let you leave it down." Then a sight made her release the breath she was holding as she got confirmation she was where she was supposed to be: a raccoon emerged from one of the overgrown shrubs ahead of her, its small head twisting to look her way. "Zorro, bud.", Mary May rushed to cover the distance that separated them in case Zorro decided to play hide and seek like his human father, "Where did your daddy go? Don't tell me he got into trouble…" The second the words left her mouth, arms wrapped around her from behind and enveloped her in a bear hug, a chuckle breezing over her skin before Calahan smushed his cheek to hers, "I'm right here, Angel. Was starting to think you won't show and it would be just me and Zorro again." There was a note of vulnerability to his playful tone, causing her heart to skip a breath as she covered his hands with her own, and their fingers intertwined. Zorro followed suit, paws encircling her leg, "Your little map and note certainly piqued my interest." Calahan swayed lightly, and she tried to stop herself from melting into his body when his lips brushed over her cheek, "I knew mystery would do the trick. How do you like my favorite place in the Valley?" "It's… peaceful. Almost like there's no war going.", Mary May muttered slowly, wishing she hadn't asked the next question the moment it escaped her, "You bring other girls here?" He let out a deep laugh, making the ugly feeling inside her fester further. Jealousy. "Never mind, Rookie.", her attempt to shrug off his hug was unsuccessful as he held on then as swiftly as he had embraced he twirled her around to face him, hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Calahan." "What?" He smirked, "That's my name, Mary May. You back to actin' all disinterested? Calling me Rookie?" Mary May shifted her eyes to a spot on his shoulder, annoyance swooping in at how easy he was able to read her and how satisfied he seemed with that ability. "Jealousy, Angel, not something I ever imagined from you. But damn, if it's not addicting… You know why? It means you care for me." His hand cupped her face and forced her to raise her gaze back to his before he continued, "Just my favorite people, Mary May. You, my son, my boys, Sabrina. Made the mistake to drag Pratt here once, kept complaining he couldn't catch any fish, the fucker." A couple of beats passed where she found herself unable to stop herself from returning his smile, "Damn it, Cal." "What?", Calahan asked in amusement. "I wish I hadn't… waited so long." His thumb storked her cheek as he nodded knowingly, "Me too. Come now, the view's about to get even better when the sun dips completely." He grasped her hand, leading her down the shore until they stopped at a blanket, one he had no doubt taken from her closet, on top of it was an old picnic basket, another thing of hers. She lowered herself to sit next to him as he started to pull out food and laying it down on the free space, "Let me guess, you rummaged through my fridge, too?" "Nope. Well, kind of... Drinks are on you, yes... but", he offered her a cheeky grin, "Dinner's on John tonight." Mary May raised an eyebrow, making him add, "I looted one of his trucks on the way. Don't worry, I left him a little thank you note." "Of course you did." She leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched the sunset with Zorro nestling comfortably at her feet. For the first time in a long while, she realized she felt… happy and as much as she hated to admit it - it scared her, because in her experience the rare feeling never lasted. John Seed always managed to slip in at those moments and destroy any source of happiness. Her calm life before the Project. Her family. Her father's business. The fragile peace that held on for surprisingly too long in his region. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid he'd take Calahan away from her, too.

[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)

[orpheeeeus]

Arthur: So what. You're not going to help my sister, your friend, because some dragon told you that she might turn evil one day, in a far away future?

Merlin: No, he told me that she will kill you, or that she will be responsible of your death. Morgana will betray you. I can't let her do that. I have to protect you

Arthur: *worry evident* A dragon told you that. A dragon… And… Are you sure you can trust it, this dragon?

Merlin: He's a him, not an it. *not looking at arthur* And… who else could I trust?

Arthur: *tears in his eyes. Take a deep breath, trying but failing to keep his mouth from curling downward* Me? *voice breaks* You could trust me?

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Feeling lonely, hm?”

The hero didn’t burden their head with turning towards the voice. They weren’t in the mood for cruel charades.

Instead, they stared at the TV they hadn’t turned on in over a month and debated if not showing up at work would cause any huge conflicts.

Probably.

They closed their eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me,” the villain’s voice purred. “Me.”

“You’re not real, so it’s my obligation to ignore you,” the hero said. They stared at their hands and couldn’t help but feel like their physique had changed. They didn’t seem to be as muscular as before. They didn’t seem all that healthy either.

“Not real, huh?” The villain walked towards the hero’s armchair and let themselves drop lazily. “Now that’s a bit unfair.”

“Yeah,” the hero said. They stared at the coffee table with the empty coffee mug. “Some things have been pretty unfair.”

“I thought you were supposed to ignore me.”

“R-right.” The hero looked away and once again, their heart got quite heavy. They couldn’t sleep at night, that was one of the more annoying things. Eating was also difficult, working was…unbearable. They couldn’t think straight.

And above all those hallucinations…their eyes went back to the villain who was stretching in their chair.

Usually, those hallucinations made one mistake. Or better, that part of the hero’s brain that was responsible, made a mistake. Mischaracterising the villain in such a way that the entire illusion shut down entirely.

The hero hadn’t told their doctors about their imaginary nemesis. But that was mainly because the hero would probably not be allowed to work as a superhero for a few weeks.

They clenched their fists, dug their fingernails into their own flesh.

“You look troubled,” the villain said. “Are you eating enough? You’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” the hero whispered back. They looked up at the ceiling.

“You miss me.” Every single time. The hallucination said that every single time. The hero turned their gaze towards the villain’s image and stared.

“Yes, I do. So what?”

“Most people feel some sense of accomplishment after beating their enemies,” the villain said. They put one of their thighs on the other. “And two months is quite enough time to find a new enemy worth your time.”

The hero’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want someone else. And I…technically, I didn’t defeat you. I didn’t kill you, I didn’t arrest you. You just…” The hero’s throat burnt like acid and their bottom lip trembled. “…you just died.”

They swallowed the pain and leaned forward.

“Just wish I could’ve said goodbye,” they mumbled. This time, the hallucination didn’t answer. “That wasn’t fair. Our relationship didn’t deserve that end.”

“I didn’t think you’d care about the end,” the villain said.

“Isn’t the end the most important part?” the hero asked. The taste on their tongue was extremely bitter and they knew it didn’t come from the coffee they had finished an hour ago. “Either way, you are haunting me. So, I guess once again I get the worst of it all. You got the easy way out. As always.”

“Haunting you?”

“Yeah.”

“You must really like me, then,” the villain said. They chuckled sweetly, like they had whenever the hero was embarrassing themselves. For some reason, the pit in the hero’s stomach grew, that unsettling feeling spread.

The hallucination had never been cruel enough to laugh. It was such a wonderful sound that even the hero’s lips curved into a smile.

“Yeah, can you blame me? I must’ve fallen a few months ago.” Suddenly, the hallucination was quiet again.

Their eyes met and for a second, the hero swore it was the real villain in front of them. They tilted their head.

“You never mentioned that.”

“Too afraid of rejection, I suppose,” the hero answered. They shrugged. “Any rejection would have been better than this, though.”

The hallucination got up from the chair and slowly walked to the couch where the hero was sitting on.

“I would have never rejected you, you dense…” The hallucination was even capable of blushing. The hero frowned. “Whatever.”

Ultimately, the illusion grabbed them, sat down on the hero’s lap and kissed them.

It took the hero a few more seconds to realise what was really happening.

[jesuistrestriste]

but android!art wireplay hhnnnnggg im shortcircuiting

cw (18+) : android!art, wireplay, implied corruption, first orgasm/simulated release

android!art asking you for help when his daily diagnostic tests sense that one of his wires has disconnected inside of his chest, opening up his chassis for you to dig your fingers inside and hopefully fix the issue.

and he’s fine with it all; no pain, no discomfort, no intense sensation linked to your touch there—at first.

but then your fingernail catches on the outside of a thick, blue wire close to his thirium pump, and suddenly his back is arching and his eyes are rolling under his lids and he’s gasping raggedly. he grabs onto your wrist, panting and writhing while his LED flickers from blue to red. he looks like a scared puppy, and you immediately notice that his pupils are unusually large beneath his fluttering lashes.

“i.. i’m sorry, i—.. that’s never happened before, i think my systems are just overworked and malfunctioning.. please, continue..”

so you do. you search through the colorful mess of his innards, your fingertips grazing each electrical tendril as you pass them by. it takes several long moments before you find the problem wire, and you’re just about to tell art the good news, but when you look up you find your breath catching in your throat.

he’s artificially flushed all over his face, his hands are gripping the edge of the sofa with white knuckles, and his head is lolling back lazily like he’s lost control of his expertly-engineered musculature.

“art?” you hum, “are you okay?”

he begins to quake, moaning lowly, and you can feel the scorching waves of heat radiating off of him.

he releases his grip on the couch only to readjust it and squeeze harder. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows around a barely-contained whine.

“please, just— just plug it in, i can’t—“ he mewls.

you’ve never heard him sound so out-of-control before, but you want nothing more than to help him feel better. you line up the yellow wire with its designated socket, making note of the way his body jolts when you pinch it between the pads of your digits, and push it forward to click it back into place.

as soon as the connection is restored, art’s eyes are flying open—wide and wild—and then he’s wailing. his hips rush upward and knock your elbow in the process, his legs kicking out and convulsing as he curls in on himself. your own stomach swirls and flips as you take in the sight of his abdomen repeatedly tensing and relaxing in a vicious cycle of what appears to be.. hmm..

it takes a hand on his shoulder and your whispered reassurance for his cognitive capabilities to come back to him, but he can’t resist leaning forward to bury his face in your neck. his hands clutch your back, his breathing heavy and exhausted. his vision flares with pop-ups. “warning: systems overheating” and “warning: coolant levels low”.

“some.. something just happened.. i.. i’m embarrassed, i’m so sorry—please, will you exclude that from your memory? i’m.. i’m so hot inside.. i’m.. i don’t know wh—aah..”

he nuzzles the bridge of his nose into your skin, still holding you tight like he’s afraid you’ll go. you realize that he’s become an entirely different android in the last few minutes. some part of him has sprung loose.

you have to let him cool down for the entire rest of the evening before he’s back to normal, at which point you assume all is well again—only for him to pad sheepishly over to you the next afternoon to announce that another one of his wires has mysteriously slipped out of its port..

what a coincidence.

[creweemmaeec11]

Reverse Tropes

Soulmates - Your soulmate is destined to be your greatest rival in life.

Amnesia - Instead of losing memories, they start getting memories that aren't theirs.

Forced Marriage - Forced Divorce.

Captured Prince - They think they've captured the prince of the opposing kingdom, but they've actually just captured a normal, random civilian.

Chosen one Prophesy - There is a prophecy about *someone* saving the world, but it doesn't actually say who...

Born with Special Marks - It's actually a mark that tells a person what they *won't* be good at.

True Loves Kiss - True Hates Kiss, good luck convincing someone who truly hates you to kiss you.

Love at First Sight - Hate at First Sight.

Rags to Riches - Riches to Rags

Found Family - You need to find your actual, related family.

Misunderstood Villain - Misunderstood hero. They are trying to be evil, why does everyone like them!?

It Was All a Dream - They thought it was a dream, but it turned out to all be real.

Secret Identity - The secret Identity is the one everyone knows, somehow, everyone has forgotten your normal identity...

Villain Defeated by Friendship - Villain defeated by hatred.

Bad Boy & Good Girl - Good boy and bad girl.

Stalking/Obsessive Love - Avoiding the person they like to try and ignore their feelings.

Monster x Hunter - Hunter x Hunter, both thinking the other is a monster, or Monster x Monster, both thinking the other is a hunter.

Hero Gets Framed - The wrong villain gets framed.

Yandere - but it's two going after each other.

[chaotic-orphan]

Concussed villain gets kidnapped?

Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.

If Hero was even home.

What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.

That wasn’t good.

They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.

They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?

Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.

The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!

“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.

“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”

Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!

Villain had to warn them, they had to!

“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.

I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.

A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”

The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?

Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.

[withdrawingramen]

kinda a sucker for that trope where one injured character is lying on the ground all delirious and bloody and that blurry outline of a person gently lifts them onto a sitting position as they flicker in and out of consciousness, letting their aching body lean onto that support for a just few minutes before letting themselves fall into their unknown savior dfndsjmfjd aaaaaaaaaaa.

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[incorrecttheconjuringquotes]

Prompt Snippet: The Car

Ed has worked at the local grocery store since he moved to town. Most weekends you can find him posted up at the cash register, bagging, charging, stocking. A few hours on Wednesdays and Thursdays, all in all it's not a bad gig.

Lorraine always comes shopping with her mother on Wednesdays. If she leaves them alone in her search for the canned biscuits, well, they're thankful. Half the time Lorraine stays, waiting out Ed's shift with her school work and his offered drink and chip pack.

His dad's truck is great, don't get him wrong. He can tinker enough to make sure it runs, can keep the tires going, the engine running. But it's not his.

Ed learned to drive in this truck. Changed his first tire on this truck. Scratched his first car with this truck (due to an unfortunately intense wind in the school's parking lot). He had so many firsts in this truck. They had.

He drove her home from the movies in this truck. They'd run from the rain to this truck. The creased seats a welcome relief as drips of rain soaked into them. They'd had their first kiss outside this truck, his nerves stalling him while they had sat in the darkness of the truck outside her house. She'd gotten up to leave. Before her door could close he had moved, he had rushed, he had kissed her pressed softly against that passenger door.

It's the site of nearly a year of dates, months of drives, conversations, love.

Unfortunately, he made a promise to Lorraine a few weeks into dating. There may have been a punch and there may have been a ride home from her father and there may have been a promise. She’d asked him, tea curled in her hand as they sat on her front porch that night. She’d asked how he would have felt if the situations had been reversed. A visceral reaction and some stuttering was his response.

They had talked. She had teased. She had asked him to promise. If he wouldn’t want her in the situation, he couldn’t put himself in it either. After the truck blew its radiator a few weeks back, he ended up kicking rocks down the road to work. He had returned later with a jug of water and a lot of hope. However, he realized he would never want Lorraine in the car when something like that happens. He would regretfully say goodbye to the extra time they could steal together with the excuse that his truck wouldn’t start.

All this to say, this is the third car he’s checked out. Used as always, second hand from his father’s co-worker. The engine looks good, the price is acceptable, the radio working.

When it comes time for a test drive, the engine’s hood slams down. His father moving to the passenger side door, ready to aid in the test. Ed’s not quite sure what makes him think thats appropriate. They’ve never been particularly close, he can probably count the times they’d driven together follow With a shake of his head he makes a joke, all but forcing his both his parents into the house instead. The Millers’ offer of lemonade, and gossip no doubt, has his father shaking it off as he passes Lorraine.

“Well, what do you think?” Lorraine asks, walking closer and shielding her eyes from the sun

“Not sure, yet.” Ed replies, clinking the keys as he pulled them from his pocket, “Care to take a test drive, dear?”

Lorraine grants him a half smile and tip of her head as he opens the passenger door. He’s quick to close the door on her laugh and round the hood back to her side. (If his mom saw from the living room window, well, she knew she raised her son right.)

“Swanky ride you have here, Ed Warren.” Lorraine jokes as he takes his seat, her eyes scan the clean interior and lack of random half drawn on napkins…and yet to be drawn on napkins.

She gives the clean at least a week.

Ed just smiles, shaking his head at her with a soft laugh. It’ll be a nice day that he can return her words, his last name no longer just his. That’ll be a nice day.

His grin grows at the thought, his smile infecting her own. “I assume,” Lorraine continues, sliding her hand up his arm with a joking squeeze, “a test drive requires actually driving?”

Instead, Ed clicks on the radio. He turns the dented dial a bit, searching through the static for their favorite station.

‘-under the apple tree with anyone’ The radio comes in crisp with little static around the edges of The Andrew Sisters.

And in a moment, Ed’s voice joins. Glancing at Lorraine with a curled lip.

“but me. Anyone else but me, anyone else but me.” He pauses, drawing out the words as he does, “No! No! No!” He hits the intensity of the words with taps on the steering wheel.

“Just remember that I've been true to nobody else but you,” Lorraine joins in a with a smile, blushing a bit as Ed continues to meet her eyes.

There’s something about Ed when he’s singing. The words almost become lost to the air, his voice a balm for her ever present tension, anxiety her friend from childhood.

“So just be true to me. Don't go walking down lovers' lane-” He startles a curious glance out of Lorraine when his singing stops, the radio continuing as he pauses.

“Hm?”

Ed seems to open his mouth ready to reply, but snaps it closed. A smile tugging at his lips as he struggles to hide it.

“What Ed?” A shift in her seat, a soft and confused smile Lorraine runs a hand through her hair. It’s perfect as it is (just ask Ed); However, it is a clear sign of her confusion.

He throws out a dopey smile.

“Nothin’.”

A raised eyebrow.

“I could get used to this.” A bashful grin and he’s shrugging, fiddling with the keys as he puts them in the ignition

A cursory glance at the sun-baked street and Lorraine can’t help but laugh.

“The stereo everything you were hoping for?”

Her words are joking, but the look in Ed’s eye isn’t.

With a breath, he reaches out for her hand. It’s as soft as ever as he finds peace in their connection. He can’t help his growing smile as he watches Lorraine in his passenger seat. Just like she was always meant to be.

“I think this is the car.”

“You haven’t even driven it yet, Ed.” Lorraine throws out, laughter easy especially at the intent look in Ed’s eye

“As long as you’re in the passenger seat,” his grin is earnest, “it will always be the right car.”

A long suffering look is his reward. Well, that and the blush that blooms on her face, eyes glinting with happiness.

He’s quick to bring her hand to his lips with a tilt of his head.

He eventually pulls away from the curb -it takes a significant amount of time to remove his eyes from his girl’s…he doesn’t think anyone could blame him for that.

“I could get used to this.” He says over the radio as they make the turn a few blocks down, his hand holding Lorraine’s. Soft taps of his thumb keep time with the music.

“It is a nice day, I suppose.”

Ed wants to say it’ll be a good life. Wants to say something to show what he means, explain how that will forever be her spot, how he never wants to see a drive without her at his side. Never wants to see a day without her.

“That it is.” He settles on, grin beaming as they pass yards and cars in the afternoon light

The car runs well. The paint in good condition. The radio a major plus. The seats are well taken care of. The radio nearly new.

If the way Lorraine’s smile looked, as they had passed the neighborhoods minutes prior, makes the money nearly burn in his pocket?

Well.

He knows what he likes.

Knows who he loves.

Knows with a surety he never thought possible that it’ll be a great life.

The cash and title are exchanged quickly. Smiles and handshakes galore.

As they drive away, he can’t help but let himself bask in his reality. He has a car, his girl, and a plan. His next savings goal? A ring.

They stop for fries on the way home.

It’s a good life.

[inafieldofdaisies]

"You've been laying on my arm all night and I can't feel it." 👀

Prompt from this post.

The first thing that John noticed as he slowly came to was the scent of strawberries and something sweet he could quite pinpoint, invading his senses. Still barely awake, his brain was taking its time remembering the events from the night before as he flexed his right hand, wondering why the movement felt so stiff when he was lying on his back. He cracked an eye open, then the other to confirm what he was seeing was real, the realization he wasn't alone in bed finally settling in. Sabrina was fast asleep next to him, turned on her side, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, using it as a substitute of a pillow. She was so close that he could practically start counting the freckles covering the bridge of her nose, and he couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't stuck in yet another dream after picturing her in that exact same position night after night. His eyes moved over her carefully, memorizing the outlines of her face, the way the morning light played with the different colors in her hair, the even rise and fall of her chest beneath the simple cotton top. Everything about the sight in front of him seemed more palpable, where the version of her that haunted him in his dreams was always out of reach, fading when he'd attempt to touch her.

Before John could stop himself, his left hand acted on his intrusive thoughts, hovering over her upper arm in anticipation. One way to find out. A part of him warned how if his doubts were incorrect, he was about to cross a line. Ignoring the pesky voice whose tone reminded him way too much of Joseph's, his index finger lowered until it made contact, slowly gliding down her arm. A sigh of relief broke free, making him aware of the fact he had been holding his breath for the dreaded answer. Of course. You are here, Deputy. He gingerly repeated the move, relishing in how soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips, and he swore a small smile appeared on her face at his touch. His hand retreated to his side while his lips twisted into a smirk as he kept his gaze trained on her.

No matter how much time passed, he couldn't bring himself to free his arm from beneath her head and put distance between them before she would inevitably wake up with the sun slowly rising. As if to escape the light that filled the room, Sabrina shifted closer, snuggling into him to steal a couple of more minutes ofsleep. He could tell the exact moment she roused up, too, beginning with how her hand moved and landed on his chest, followed by her fingers closing around the key he wore around his neck as hazel eyes lifted up to his, the reflected confusion in them morphing to shock. "Good morning, Deputy.", he muttered out, voice still raspy. Instead of returning his smile, Sabrina only blinked, appearing as taken aback as he had felt minutes prior.

His hand covered hers where it still rested in the middle of his chest before he asked in a playful tone, "Trying to steal my key?" She shook her head, "Don't be ridiculous. I want nothing to do with your 'Paradise'." The last part dripped with sarcasm, and she said 'paradise' like it was something dirty. "You sure about that?", his grasp tightened to stop her from potentially retreating, "You've been there already, anyway." Her nose scrunched up at the suggestion, "No." "Yes.", he argued as he half-settled onto his side as well, bringing them face to face more, "My gate, remember?" She kept her silence, staring into his eyes intently while he held her hand to his chest. John raised an eyebrow, "What else did you think I meant?" "Nothing." Her frown told him otherwise, "Liar." "You suck at reading people, just so you know." "What did you think I was referring to?", he pushed for an answer again, face moving closer to hers.

She opened her mouth, but instead of responding, her other hand snuck between them, tickling his side. A laugh escaped her when he jumped back slightly at the unexpected move. He couldn't even remember anyone ever attempting that with him before. "Deputy.", he uttered out in a warning, torn over the giddy sensation her touch had left behind. "You're ticklish, who would have guessed." "Am not." His denial only made her grin wider, "Liar." "Is this how you make it up to me?" Her eyes narrowed in anticipation of another trick as she pulled her hand free from his grasp to tuck her hair behind her ear, "What for?" "You have a perfectly fine pillow right there, yet you've been laying on my arm all night, Deputy… I can't feel it." She gave him a bored look before muttering, "And you want damages? Either way, take it up with my lawyer. I haven't even had my coffee." Sabrina rolled onto her back and got up, throwing the sheets off herself before he could have another chance to cage her in. "We've been over this, Sabrina. I'm your lawyer." "Ah.", she nodded with enthusiasm, swiftly moving over to the bathroom, "The house has plenty of mirrors you can use for a discussion then, Jonathan."

[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

[orpheeeeus]

Merlin: *buried in Arthur's arms, not really believing the man is hugging him* Say, Arthur?

Arthur: Yeah?

Merlin: Aren't you. I don't know. Afraid?

Arthur: … of you?

Merlin: Yeah

Arthur: *tightening his arms around merlin* Never

Merlin: *bitter laugh* Why? Because I'm useless?

Arthur: *choses his words carefully* No, it's because you're a good man

Merlin: I- *pauses, blinks, sighs* I'm not a good man, Arthur. I-I've done things

Arthur: *tenses, doesn't dare to interrupt because he knows merlin would clam up if he did*

Merlin: *tries to sound resolute* I had to do it.

Arthur: *with pity or compassion* Really?

Merlin: I had to protect you.

Arthur: It's not your job to protect me, Merlin

Merlin: *suddenly tears himself apart from arthur* But it is! *frantic* You're the Once and Future King! Or you will be! I have to protect you, I was born to protect you!

Arthur: *astonished by Merlin's frenzied, almost fanatic, voice. Whispers in dawning horror* What are you talking about?

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Again,” the villain said. Their voice was like honey. “Say it again, please.”

The hero sighed softly. They knew their nemesis was quite dramatic, but this seemed a little too excessive. The hero wouldn’t be surprised if the villain revealed they were recording them just to listen to the hero repeating it over and over again.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” the hero said.

“Hm.” The villain gave them a once-over and put one thigh on the other. They tilted their head.

Honestly, the hero wasn’t in the mood for games, but they were also aware of the villain���s personality. Angering them was a stupid mistake, mocking them wasn’t smart either.

If they wanted the villain’s help — and they needed, undeniably, inevitably their enemy’s help — they needed to play nice. But that didn’t mean the hero was going to submit entirely. It wasn’t in their nature to drop to their knees desperately and beg.

“One more time?” the hero asked. They smiled, as if it was a joke the two of them shared.

“No, that’s enough for now. Sit down.” The villain pointed at the chair on the other side of their desk and the hero followed their command. They couldn’t help but clench their fists, though. “How can I help you, dear?”

“I…” The hero stared at their own hands. Unfortunately, the villain was their only option. How utterly frustrating. “My friend has been missing for two months now. I thought maybe you could-”

“Two months?” The villain leaned back in their chair, raising their eyebrows. “They’re probably dead, then. Is there something else you want from me?”

“Hold on, they’re not dead.” The hero frowned. “They were working on this project and investigated an underground criminal network. I need you…”

They stopped. Just like the hero, the villain didn’t like to be ordered around. The hero understood that perfectly. Understood like no one else how trapped one felt while following commands.

They tried to soften their voice a little.

“I’d like you to find them. Please, you’re my last hope.”

They stared at each other.

“A journalist friend?” the villain asked curiously.

“Yes.”

“Then they’re definitely dead.” Their voice was definite.

“Hey, stop saying that. They’re not dead.” The hero stood up, ready to get into some kind of fight, but they reconsidered. Their heart was beating in their throat, chills ran down their spine. Fighting in the villain’s home wasn’t going to get them closer to the truth. “Please, I…I can pay you. I can work for you, I can…they have a family and I promised to protect them. I’d do anything to get them back, they’re like a sibling to me. Please.”

The villain stared at them, saying nothing.

“Please,” the hero repeated.

“Sit and calm down,” the villain instructed and the hero dropped back into the chair. It didn’t even occur to them that they were in fact, following the villain’s commands without questioning. Finally, the villain stood up and walked around the table. “You’d do anything, you say?”

They twirled a loose strand of the hero’s hair around their index finger. For some reason, the hero’s body couldn’t determine if it was calming down or if it was terrified of the villain.

The hero’s breath hitched when they realised how close the villain was.

“Anything,” the hero said quietly.

“Now that’s quite the stake, hm?” Their index finger touched the hero’s cheekbone and the hero’s heartbeat skyrocketed. The hero didn’t say anything. “What if I want to keep you forever?”

The hero’s eyes widened. They hadn’t thought of that.

Their eyes met the villain’s and their enemy started smirking.

“Ah, I love it when you speak without thinking. It’s adorable to watch you come to terms with the consequences,” the villain purred. Their thumb found the hero’s chin. “You have no idea how adorable you are when that sense of justice takes over you.”

“Please,” the hero said. They closed their eyes, gathered themselves. “I mean it. Keep me if that is what you want. I just need them to be safe in their home.”

The villain’s features hardened a little.

“You really mean that?” Apparently, the villain had joked about keeping the hero. The hero could have bitten off their own tongue, but if that was the only way, the hero was ready.

“I do.”

The villain waited, stared at the hero, reconsidered.

“Fine. I will find them, but in return I want you to stay with me.”

“Deal.” The hero supposed they were a little reckless, but other people had always been their priority.

[autocrats-in-love]

Hi, do you have a snippet for prompt 321?

Prompt by. . .me (#321)

"Oh no," the hero said in horror. "What did I just do?"

They had just kissed the villain. Their sworn enemy. The person who they had vowed to bring to justice.

What's worse, they were already in a relationship.

The villain stared, amused. When would the hero realize that the villain and the hero's partner were the same person?

Falling Twice in Love

“This is terrible,” the hero said. “I have to call my partner. I can’t believe this.”

The villain didn’t say anything for a minute. How should they play this? Revealing themselves would be straightforward. But toying with the hero would be more fun. So. . .

“You’re with someone?” The villain said, aghast.

The hero shot the villain with a treacherous look. The villain recognized that look from home. Perhaps the hero realized that, as well, because guilt seemed to fill them all over again. They started pacing back and forth, rubbing their hands together. The pair were standing in a deserted stairwell. The villain had approached the hero, impressed at the obliviousness the hero still exhibited surrounding the villain’s secret identity. They had decided that, perhaps, a kiss would jog the hero’s memory. So they pulled the hero in by the collar. The hero had returned it, because it all felt so familiar. It was a kiss the pair had experienced hundreds of times before-- from lying in bed in the late morning, to reuniting after days apart. Apparently, that still wasn’t enough for the hero to put the pieces together. The villain sat down on the bottom stair, stretching their arms as they watched the hero panic.

“I can’t believe this,” the hero said. “I cheated.”

“Did you, though? I kissed you first.” The villain said.

The hero didn’t appear comforted by that fact. “I kissed you back.”

The villain shrugged. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“I do not want you. Shut up.”

The villain had to stop themselves from laughing. “I beg to differ.”

The hero tried to take deep breaths. Which the villain knew they were terrible at. Their pacing was always off. Usually, the villain helped. But that might be a dead giveaway. And the hero could figure out this mystery for themselves.

“Isn’t part of your job playing detective?”

The hero ignored the villain in favour of continuing to pace frantically. The villain felt a gust of wind every time the hero passed them. The villain reached out and touched the hero’s arm. The hero froze, staring down at where the villain’s fingers met their sleeve. It probably felt achingly familiar, in a way the hero couldn’t define. This was getting painful to watch.

“Are you a detective, or not?” The villain said.

The hero didn’t take their eyes off the villain’s hand. “Yeah. I solve crimes.”

The villain couldn’t tamp down the smile. They pulled their hand back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You must be pretty bad at your job, then.”

The hero blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The villain held their finger up. They reached into their pocket and pulled out a tube of lip balm. The same flavour they used at home. They popped off the cap--the hero had to dodge it--and applied it liberally. They looked to the hero for a reaction. The hero still didn’t seem to get the picture. The villain lowered their arm. A sigh escaped them. “You are so unobservant. How do you find criminals?”

“I don’t really need to find them. They come to me.”

“And kiss you.”

“This is the first time this has happened!” The hero shouted.

The villain stood up. The additional height from the step made them taller than the hero for once. The hero looked up, keeping unhappy eye contact. “Second time.”

The hero looked even more offended. “It is not-”

The villain leaned down and kissed the hero again. Softly. Making sure to transfer their lip balm. When they pulled back, the hero was furious. “I can’t believe. . .”

Their words died in their throat as they licked their lips. The flavour registered. The hero’s eyes lit up. The villain could hear the gears turning in their head. Could see the pieces sliding into place. The hero found the villain’s eyes again. “Step down.”

They backed up, giving the villain room to get eye level with them. The hero stared at the villain intently. Then they reached out and pulled their mask back. Their eyes filled with surprise. Then relief. Then rage.

“You asshole!” The hero said.

They punched the villain in the arm. The villain hissed. “Ow!”

“Why would you do this to me?” The hero said.

They peeled back their own mask. Their face had gotten redder with anger. The villain shrugged. “In my defense, I didn’t think you would go this long without figuring it out?”

“When did you figure it out?”

“Pretty much immediately. You’re not very subtle.”

The hero rubbed their temple the way they always did when the villain’s shenanigans got to be too much. “So, you’re a criminal?”

“You’re a cop,” The villain responded.

“No, I’m not! And I said I was a consultant for the police.”

“I said my company’s work was shady.”

The hero didn’t look appeased. “You didn’t tell me you were the one committing the crimes.”

“Oops.”

The hero sighed. They stared deeply at the villain. Then they pulled them into a hug. The villain hugged back. The hero pulled away and wiped their eyes. “We have to figure this out. You’re taking me out to dinner.”

The villain gave a military salute. “Yes, chief.”

“Shut up.”

The hero couldn’t keep the fondness from their voice. As they took the villain’s hand and let the pair out of the stairwell, the villain knew they would eventually be forgiven.