#writing prompt ask

[chaotic-goodsir]

Your curtwen drabbles get me everytime you write them so well!! Thank you so much for writing them 😭 If you’re up for it, how about 95 for curtwen or lautski

Aw, thank you!! You're absolutely welcome - I've had a lot of fun writing these and I'm glad you enjoyed them! This is maybe not quite what you expected for this prompt, but I hope you like it anyway. It's also the longest so far I think, so uh, so much for drabbles. I really need to learn to write shorter things.

(I went for Curtwen again, because I am predictable 😅)

*

Ms Mega has a plan.

The inspiration first struck couple of days ago. Curtis was away on agency business  - some kind of important meeting - and she was in the living room, sorting through old photo albums. She'd almost forgotten she wasn’t alone in the house when a hesitant voice spoke up from the doorway.

'Um, good morning, Ms Mega. Could I… can I help you with that, at all?'

The voice's owner looked, as usual, in dire need of a decent night's sleep. He leant against the doorway as though it was the only thing keeping him standing, one hand anxiously twisting the tie on that blue plaid dressing gown she’d given him to borrow.

She shuffled over and patted the couch beside her.

‘Well of course! Come and sit down. I was just trying to get these photos organised. You know, I can never get Curtis to help me with things like this. You wait here and I’ll get us some coffee – or tea, if you want?’

Owen sat down like someone half in a dream, picked up an envelope of unsorted photos and stared at it like he wasn't sure exactly what to do.

‘Tea or coffee, honey?’ she asked again.

'Oh, um, tea would be excellent, thank you.'

‘I haven’t started on that envelope yet – how about you have a look through them and we’ll pick the best ones for this album? I’ll be right back.’

When she glanced back from the door as she left, Owen had barely moved. He sat staring straight ahead at the fireplace, absent-mindedly turning the envelope over and over, in a way that made Ms Mega think of her cousin Jack after the Great War. Not for the first time, she found herself worrying about her son's English friend.

By the time she came back with the drinks, he'd at least opened the envelope and was flicking through some of the photos. He paused on one that showed Curtis, aged maybe about twelve, dressed up all fancy with his arm around that lovely girl from next door, whose name she found she couldn’t recall.

'Ah, that's from the dancing competition!' she explained as Owen studied the photo. 'He used to be very good, you know. Takes after his mama.'

'Dancing?'

'Ballroom,' she said proudly. 'He used to love dancing with me when he was little, so I sent him to classes when I could afford it. That girl lived next door to us - she was his partner. They were such good friends. Like peas in a pod. I used to think they might get married one day! Well, I suppose he doesn't do much dancing now, with all the spying and everything. It's a shame. He had a real a talent for it.'

'So you'll want to keep this one, then?' Owen asked, looking at the chaotic pile of albums on the coffee table as though wondering where to start.

'Keep it? Maybe I oughta frame it! Curtis would be so embarrassed to see it again.'

Owen smiled a little at that. He put the photo aside and picked up the mug of hot tea, clasping it tightly in both hands. She couldn't help but notice the mug shaking a little.

'Are you feeling alright, honey?’ she asked, sitting back down beside him.

‘Mm? Yes, sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.’

She’d have thought a secret agent would be a better liar.

‘There’s no need to help me if you’re not feeling so good. You just watch if you like. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Curtis will tell you, I can talk anyone’s ear off.'

So she carried on with her sorting, and Owen listened while she talked about vacations and school awards and weddings and christenings and relatives he had no reason to be interested in. It was strange - she'd done the same with Tatiana, but as sweet as the Russian girl was, she'd never shown the kind of interest Ms Mega would have expected from her son's future fiancée. Maybe Tati just wasn't the nostalgia type.

Owen, on the other hand - once he finished the tea and relaxed a little - seemed to have a million questions. What did Curt win that award for? (Dancing, again. He and his partner were first in the county!) Where were they in that photo by the sea? (California, the furthest they'd ever travelled before Curtis got his spy job and the house in Guadeloupe). Who was the man in some of the older photos? (Curtis's father. He left when he was a baby, and good riddance. By that time he wasn't a very nice man to be around…)

Something about the interest Owen took in her son’s life only increased Ms Mega’s suspicions – the ones she’d been harbouring ever since Curtis first brought this stray to her door. She knew her son must have his reasons for bringing Owen here, and for jumping through what seemed like endless agency hoops to help him after whatever it was that happened in Europe. Before he left for this particular meeting, he’d asked her to take care of Owen while he was gone - which, of course, she would have done anyway, but there was something in his tone she’d never heard him use for anyone else. Not even for Tati.

Ms Mega is nothing if not both nosy and resourceful, and so, after the photos reminded her of her son's talent for dancing, she started to hatch her plan.

Now, a few days later, she's waiting in the living room holding a record she found in the attic, grinning to herself at her own mischief. She’s pushed the coffee table to one side to make space for a dancefloor, and strategically left the album with the photos from her son’s dancing career open on top of it. Dinner is in the oven, and now all that’s left to set the plan in motion is for Curtis and Owen to return.

Curtis got home last night, and she chased the two of them out of the house this morning with ‘spring cleaning’ as an excuse. Of course they (or, well, Owen) offered to help, but she pushed them out of the door all the same.

'Don't be silly! Now off you go for a walk, or whatever it is you boys do for fun. It'll do you some good to get out of the house.'

Officially, Owen is not supposed to leave the house at all. But a guest in Ms Mega's house lives by Ms Mega's rules - not those of any spy agency, even one that pays the rent.

The boys should be back soon, now. She dusts off the record and sets it on the battered old record player, and once she’s sure it isn’t too scratched to play properly, she starts to dance.

She pretends she doesn’t hear Curt call out as he walks in the door. Best not to look as though any of this was prepared.

Curtis and Owen appear in the doorway just as she's twirling under the arm of an imaginary partner, her skirt and apron spinning. She can tell Owen is politely trying to hide a smirk. Curtis just looks mortified.

'Mom? What are you doing?'

She grins.

'Oh, don't mind me! Just reliving my younger days. Curtis, I found some old photos of when you used to go do dancing lessons with that girl from next door. Do you remember that? She was such a nice girl, what was her name?'

‘…Sadie?’

'That’s it! You know, I was telling Owen the other day what a good dancer you used to be. You had a real talent, ever since you used to dance with me as a baby.'  She grabs his wrist, trying to drag him into a dance with her, but he pulls away, face scarlet.

‘Mom!’

'What? Too embarrassed to dance with your old mother? Jeez. I guess I’ll just go and get dinner ready then. Honestly, a mother can’t have any fun.’

She winks at Owen as she passes him in the doorway, and enjoys the slightly baffled look on his face. Plan stage one: complete.

She tries her best to listen in from the kitchen as she takes the pie out of the oven and prepares the potatoes. The record stops playing abruptly, and for a moment she’s disappointed, but then it starts up again. There’s muffled talking as she sets the table, the sound of Curt groaning in embarrassment and Owen making fun of him. And then - and then - the talking stops altogether.

And that’s her cue to slowly make her way back through the hall, treading as quietly as possible. Little do those boys know, they aren’t the only spies in this household.

She peers around the doorway, and watches silently for a moment.

Plan stage two: success.

Curtis spins his partner around the room, a little shorter than Owen but still managing to lead. It doesn't surprise her that Owen knows how to dance. After all, the Brits have all those fancy pride and prejudice balls, don't they? But she’s proud to see Curtis is clearly the better dancer of the two. Maybe that's a little unfair of her - she knows Owen injured himself quite badly at some point, and that must make things more difficult. But still. Her son is in his element here, maybe more so than when he ever danced with a girl.

Sometimes, Curtis reminds her so much of his father. Before Curtis was born, before Mr Mega started drinking more than he ought to and getting angrier than he ought to afterwards, they used to go out dancing on weekends. As they spun around the dancefloor, she'd look up at the man she would one day marry and feel as if they were the only two people on earth. And she can see that same look in Curtis's eyes now - like nothing in the world could possibly matter more than the person he's dancing with.

Than Owen.

It's really no wonder they haven’t noticed her in the doorway.

Smiling to herself, she slips back behind the doorframe and executes the final stage of her plan.

'Alright you lovebirds, dinner's ready!'

Immediately, there's panic in the living room. Incredibly efficient panic. In the seconds it takes her to round the door, the record has stopped, Owen is sitting on the sofa, and Curtis is leaning against the fireplace, nervously fixing his hair in a way that might look casual to anyone but his own mother.

She wags a finger at him.

'Don't think I didn't see what you were doing, Curtis Mega.'

Her son's eyes go wide. He moves away from the fireplace, raising his arms in defence.

'Mom, I can explain, I -'

‘Did you really think I wouldn’t figure this out? I'm an old woman, not an idiot. Your friend has been here for more than four months now, and a mother notices these things! I mean, really - '

But then she stops, because Curtis is staring at her now with genuine fear, and Owen isn’t looking at her at all, just sitting with his head in his hands. It occurs to her, too late, that the motives for her plan might have been misunderstood. That maybe she should have asked, instead of plotting all this just to surprise them.

But then, if she did ask, would Curtis have been too afraid to tell her the truth?

'Please, Mom,' he says, his voice urgent. 'I know you’re upset, but please, you can't kick him out. Cynthia's trying to arrange something, but that won't be for months yet, and this is the only place where Chi… Look, there are bad people looking for him. Here is the only place that’s safe. And I know we lied and hid this from you, and I know it’s wrong-'

She holds up a hand to shush him, then crosses the room and throws her arms around him, squeezing tight. She pulls away, smoothing down the sleeves of his sweater, and looks up at the boy who used to be small enough to hide behind her skirts.

'Oh, sweetheart, nothing is wrong, and no one is kicking anyone out of anywhere. What kind of mother do you think I am? Owen can stay as long as he needs to. I'm just sad that you two thought you had to keep this from me. But I understand. I do. I shouldn’t have scared you both. And I want you to know you don't have to hide anymore. Okay?'

Curtis looks as though he might cry, so she hugs him again. She thinks for a moment, then fixes him with a stern look.

'I do think you oughta apologise to Tatiana, though.’

There’s a pause as her son frowns down at her, confused. ‘To… Tati?’

‘Of course! Poor thing. She'll be so upset that you have to call off the wedding.'

Somewhere behind her, maybe a little manically, she hears Owen start to laugh.

[lizpaige]

For the snippet ask 💕💕💕 👀 but bonus if it’s not an NSFW place.😘

thanks for the aaaask!! if its pynch its gotta be hands. no nsfw under the cut. more sleepy Adam cause thats the vibe today apparently. 💕 kissing somewhere other than lips Send me a heart prompt!

Ronan was still amazed that Adam could sleep through this much chaos. They were on a flight back to Virginia, going to the Barns for the holidays to meet everyone - Declan, Jordan, Hennessy, Matthew, and even Blue, Gansey, and Henry. About ten seconds after they boarded, Adam put his cheek on Ronan’s shoulder and fell asleep. About three hours into the flight, Ronan managed to wedge the hood of his sweatshirt beneath Adam’s head to give him a bit more cushion. He was normally bored out of his mind on flights, knee bouncing up and down, flipping through channels on the grainy television on the back of the seat in front of him, draining the battery on his phone, desperate for some stimulation. But Adam grounded him, he always did, and even just this little contact held him still. 

He threaded their fingers together on the arm rest between them, had silently thanked the flight attendants for their whispered questions so as not to disturb Adam, but nothing did. Not the crying baby ten rows back, not the multiple rounds from the flight attendants, not the hour of turbulence or the announcements from the pilot, not even the in cabin lights turning on and the chaos of getting ready to land. 

As they descended, Ronan squeezed Adam’s hand, lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed his palm, his wrist, his thumb. 

Adam inhaled deeply as he came awake, leaning back and stretching with his eyes closed, but he kept their hands joined, giving Ronan’s a squeeze. 

“How much longer?” he mumbled, his thick as honey Henrietta accent always around when he just woke up. 

“Ten minutes,” Ronan said, smiling at Adam’s confused expression. “You slept the whole flight.”

“What?” Adam rubbed his temple, squinted down at his watch - the dreamt one that Ronan gifted him all those years ago, which adapted to their new timezone seamlessly. “Are you serious?” he asked, but it sounded more like aryoosrsh when it was sandwiched between a yawn and another stretch. 

“Yep,” Ronan said, ruffling the hair on the right side of Adam’s head that was pressed flat from resting on Ronan’s shoulder for six hours. “Good dreams?” 

Adam leaned his cheek into Ronan’s palm, eyes closing again as if he were going to fall asleep just like that. He sighed happily, smiled, and nodded. “Yeah, good dreams.”

[thedaddymothman]

SLAMS HANDS DOWN ON TABLE

I HAVE BEEN SO BAD WITH WRITING, DROP REQUESTS INTO MY INBOX AND I WILL WRITE LIKE DRABBLES.

Attack on Titan or Baldur’s Gate 3 based only ✨

I SWEAR I WILL

[crepesuzette2023]

For the Mini Writing prompt:

IRL Cynthia said John never looked at anyone like he looked at Paul…

Prompt: The chapter Cyn should have written in her book.

Oh wow, this sounds amazing, too. I'll have to read Cyn's book (John) again to get a feel for the way it was written...and where to take it, maybe it could be combined with her memories of Paul visiting her with his rose and his jokey marriage proposal...! I love the idea, thank you! This is shaping up to becoming a nice collection! :-)

[unboundprompts]

body language descriptions please?

(eg: she cocked her head)

thank you 💗💗💗

Body Language Descriptions

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Anxiety/Nervousness

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tugging nervously at the fabric as she struggled to find the right words.

They bit their lower lip.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, a clear indication of his guilt.

She absentmindedly rubbed her neck.

He chewed his nails, a nervous habit that he couldn't seem to quit.

They rubbed their hands together nervously.

He tightened his jaw.

She felt beads of sweat forming on her brow, betraying her calm facade as her heart raced.

Frustration/Impatience

Their fists clenched at their sides.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, a clear sign of impatience as he waited for her to finish.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture full of exasperation as he dismissed her words.

She let out a heavy sigh, the sound heavy with resignation as she faced the inevitable.

He threw his hands up in defeat.

Curiosity

He leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear more, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical as she questioned his intentions.

She tilted her head slightly.

He watched intently, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in every detail of her story.

Confidence/Assertiveness

He stood tall with his shoulders back, projecting confidence even in the face of uncertainty.

They sat on the edge of their seat.

She gestured wildly, her hands moving animatedly as she tried to express her excitement.

He stood with his hands on his hips, exuding an air of authority and control over the situation.

They held their chin up high, projecting self-assurance even in the face of adversity.

Defensiveness/Resignation

He crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive posture that spoke volumes about his discomfort.

He braced himself against the wall, a protective stance.

She folded her hands in her lap, a sign of restraint as she fought the urge to speak.

They shrank back slightly, their shoulders hunching as if trying to make themselves smaller in the face of criticism.

He held his breath momentarily, steeling himself for the inevitable conflict he sensed was coming.

She covered her face with her hands, overwhelmed by the situation as she tried to block out the world.

Thoughtfulness/Concentration

She furrowed her brow in concentration, her mind clearly racing as she tried to solve the problem at hand.

She nodded slowly, processing the information, her expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He stared blankly into space, lost in thought as he processed what had just been revealed.

He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythmic sound a sign of his deep contemplation.

She tapped her foot lightly, her mind racing.

Eagerness/Excitement

He paced back and forth, his restless energy manifesting in the constant movement as he considered his options.

She bent forward, her elbows resting on her knees, a sign of intimacy and engagement in the conversation.

She swayed slightly from side to side, a subconscious display of her nervous energy as she waited for the verdict.

He bounced on his toes, his excitement palpable.

She jumped up and down, a spontaneous display of her joy that couldn’t be contained.

[mischievous-thunder]

The morning after Althea had to spend yet another sleepless night because of the two freaks:

Meanwhile Logan:

P.S. Neither of the two idiots was drunk.

[lizpaige]

i see so many of my moots doing writing prompt asks so i wanna do one too! plus i need some inspo/practice to get back into writing new job fried my brain last week. send me an ask with a heart and a ship!

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

��� kiss at the wedding / milestone

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Hey! do you have tips to write a phone call? so what the character is doing during this time? i can't just write dialogue, right?

Hey :)

Here are some options for you:

How to write a phone call

Doing something other than talking:

washing dishes (very noisy)

folding laundry

brushing teeths (some people hate to hear that)

lying on their back on the floor or their bed, kicking up their feet, staring at the ceiling

walking up and down

getting distracted

trying on clothes, missing half of the conversation with their head stuck in a hoodie

doing their makeup and hair

drinking or eating

vacuuming (the noisiest)

I hope this helps!

- Jana

[leneemusing]

for muses that are getting to know each other

❝ what's your favorite color and why? ❞

❝ can i come with you? ❞

❝ you have a nice smile, has anyone ever told you that before? ❞

❝ how do you take your coffee? ❞

❝ sorry, what was your name again? ❞

❝ it just occurred to me i never asked you what your last name is. ❞

❝ actually we've met before. ❞

❝ i've heard a few things about you. ❞

❝ care to join me? ❞

❝ i'm not really sure why i trust you. ❞

❝ i don't usually talk this much, it just feels easy to say stuff when you're listening. ❞

❝ i know we don't know each other that well but if you wanna talk about it... ❞

❝ could you help me with something? ❞

❝ do you like it here? ❞

❝ are you new around here? ❞

❝ you can ask me anything you want. i promise i'll answer truthfully except the things i feel like lying about. ❞

❝ i don't mean to be too forward, you just seem like you could use a friend right now. ❞

❝ you can come with me. i mean if you don't have anyone waiting for you. ❞

❝ we're friends now. you can ask me for help. ❞

❝ do you like this music? i can change it. ❞

❝ what are your favorite snacks? ❞

❝ really? i wouldn't have guessed that about you. ❞

❝ do you mind if i ask about it? ❞

ACTIONS:

VISIT: for sender to go to receiver's home for the first time

VISITED: for receiver to go to sender's home for the first time

CRYING: for sender to see receiver cry for the first time

CRIED: for receiver to see sender cry for the first time

BEGIN: sender and receiver are on their first date together

TRIP: our muses go on a group trip but end up stuck together, away from the rest of their friends.

SITUATION: our muses are acquainted because one of them is their friend's roommate. muse a shows up when their friend isn't there and ends up hanging out with muse b one on one.

GO: our muses go to a zoo or theme park together and get lost.

INVITE: sender cooks for receiver for the first time

INVITED: receiver cooks for sender for the first time

TOGETHER: our muses spend the night for the first time

TRY: our muses hooked up and are hanging out the next day

COMFORT: sender is going through a break up and receiver offers to cheer them up

COMFORTED: receiver is going through a break up and sender offers to cheer them up

OFFER: sender gives receiver a ride to the airport/picks them up

OFERED: receiver gives sender a ride to the airport/picks them up

AID: sender helps receiver redecorate

AIDING: receiver helps sender redecorate

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write angst ?

@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)

know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)

decide on the type of angst you are going for!

major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.

and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.

are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.

moving on to actually writing it-

Tip 1 - Use sensory details.

her eyes brimmed with tears

his chest heaved

pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt

his scream pierced my heart

her lips quivered

she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)

show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.

Tip 2 - how to actually write it.

If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.

use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.

the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.

what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?

there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.

Tip 3 - crying.

what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?

what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?

make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.

while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.

focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.

have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head

best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);

3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)

Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.

there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.

and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)

Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)

[chaotic-goodsir]

For the compliment drabble thing, 50 curtwen?

Thanks! Here you go - a bit shorter than the last one but once again not really a drabble 😅 I hope you like it!

*

Curt is sitting by the window of his Paris hotel room, listening to the traffic outside and trying to read over the briefing notes for tomorrow's mission. He's meant to be infiltrating some political function - something to do with the Russian ambassador and alleged mafia money. There's a lot of information in the file that's probably very important, but none of it is going in. He finds himself reading the same paragraph over and over, taking in exactly none of the words.

All he can think about is the call he got from Cynthia a few hours ago: 'Congratulations, Mega. Somehow despite your tendency for collosal fuck-ups you've managed to pass your assessment. Consider yourself a 'Special' Agent now. Just don't get too drunk celebrating - I need you at your best for this mission, understand?'

He should have been over the moon at the news. Special Agent is the highest rank you can reach without ending up behind a desk telling other people want to do. It's been Curt's ambition since he first became a spy. It's a badge of honour that means  he's good at what he does, and recognised for it.

So why does he feel like he doesn't deserve it at all?

He knows he messed up on his last mission, and that wasn't the first time either. He tends to rush things and take unnecessary risks, or end up having to bluff because he's forgotten key information. Sure, he always finds a way out of it, but he gets himself captured far too much. Not exactly the habits of a world class spy. He has no idea how he passed this assessment, really. Maybe Cynthia likes him more than she lets on, beneath all the swearing and surprise poison drills. Maybe she pulled some strings.

She'll expect more from him now, though, with that extra word in his title. He's not sure he's ready for that kind of pressure. It's making him more nervous for tomorrow than he should be, which is why it's even harder than usual to focus on the briefing. He should be out celebrating, probably, but he's left this until the last minute yet again and he doesn't have the time - and anyway, he's working alone for this one. There's no one around to celebrate with.

He's reading that same paragraph for maybe the twentieth time when there's a knock at the door. 

Quickly, he files the briefing notes away and hides them in the sideboard drawer. Cynthia gave strict instructions not to expect any visitors this evening, and to test anyone who did show up with a code phrase, so that's what he does. 

'Sorry,' he calls in French. 'I don't take room service on a Friday.'

'Ah,' replies the visitor. 'But the complimentary drinks menu is excellent, monsieur. '

Even in a second language, with almost perfect pronunciation, he recognises that voice.

He answers the door to find none other than Owen Carvour waiting in the hallway, holding a bottle of champagne.

'Félicitations, old boy.' Owen says with a smile.

'Owen? What are you doing here?' 

'Surprising you, obviously. May I come in?'

'Uh, yeah, sure.' Curt says, suddenly embarrassed by the half unpacked suitcase and clothes strewn over the bed. He hurries to pack them away, shoving the suitcase into a corner. 'I didn't know you were-' he almost says on this mission too, before catching himself. He shouldn't be giving out his reasons for being here so casually to someone from another agency, even if it is Owen. That's the kind of slip-up a Special Agent doesn't make. 'I didn't know you were in Paris.'

'Yes, well, that is how a surprise usually works.' Owen closes the door behind him, and sets the champagne down on the sideboard. 'Get dressed, love. We're going out for dinner.'

Curt blinks at him, confused. 'What? I can't. I have... work to do. Tomorrow.'

Owen grins, then pulls a piece of paper from his pocket. 'Sorry, I almost forgot. I'm to give you this - Cynthia's orders.'

Curt takes the note. It's in Cynthia's handwriting, and all it says is:

Mission's off. 

Have fun, Special Agent.

As always, don't fuck this up.

- C

Curt stares at it. Reads it again, in case he's somehow misunderstood. 'What?'

Owen laughs.

'You passed that assessment a month ago, love.'

'I- what?' Curt says again, aware that he sounds like a broken record.

'Cynthia got in touch. Said she wanted to arrange something. Not every day you graduate to Special Agent.'

'Cynthia got in touch with you?' Curt says. He should be happy to see Owen - he is happy to see him - but this is all just a bit too weird. 

'Wait. Does she know? About-'

'Us? Now, I believe her exact words were: 'I don't care what you two get up to, Carvour, just do not get caught. I will personally murder you both before I deal with that kind of scandal.''

Curt sits down on the bed, shaking his head at the note in disbelief. Then he folds the paper and tucks it into his trouser pocket, looking up at Owen.

'This is insane. Paris, a fake mission, you... why would she arrange all that for me? This has to be some kind of test. Is that champagne poisoned? Shit, you're not gonna pull a gun, are you? My bulletproof vest's in the case, I swear I was gonna-'

Owen sits down on the bed beside him, sliding an arm around his shoulder. 'Calm down, love. I may be wrong, but I believe she simply thinks you should be proud of yourself. Celebrate your promotion. It was well deserved, after all.'

'Sure, but... really?' 

'Yes, really,' Owen says, pulling him closer. 'I think so too. So, if you're done gaping like a fish, do hurry up and put something nice on. J'ai un reservation à vingt heures and I'd rather not arrive late.'

[lizpaige]

🧡for Pynch please!!

🫡 you got it! 🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling Send me a Heart Prompt!

Ronan took it upon himself to seek Adam out when they went days without seeing each other. It was nearing the end of the school year, the end of his senior year. With a nearly full ride to Harvard, Adam took up more shifts to cover the difference, spent more time studying for his AP exams so he would get college credit, and spent less time driving out to the Barns.

It was Thursday night and even though they all had plans to go to Nino's tomorrow evening, Ronan couldn't really take it anymore. He drove out to St. Agnes, parked the BMW next to the Hondayota in the back lot and tried not to race up the stairs to Adam's apartment. It was late, so he let himself in, and sure enough the small room was dark. He could still make out Adam's head peeking up from the covers. Ronan quietly, gently, toed off his boots, dropped his jacket, and made his way over to the twin mattress on the floor and slowly laid down under the covers before Adam woke.

Adam turned his head, blinking slowly, smile widening as he caught Ronan staring. "Hi," he whispered, voice low and deep.

"Hi," Ronan replied, smiling right back.

Adam rubbed his eyes and turned on his side, slipping his arms around Ronan's waist and pulling himself closer. He pressed a kiss to the underside of Ronan's jaw, eyes still half-open. Ronan ducked his head and kissed him, fingertips tracing up and down Adam's spine, making him shiver.

Ronan hummed against Adam's lips as they met over and over, wet and sloppy, inexperienced and exploratory. Breathless, Adam pulled back with a hand on Ronan's chest, cheeks flushed.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, smiling again, "but I think I'm going to fall asleep."

Ronan laughed, kissing Adam's cheek. "Kissing is very boring, Parrish, I get it."

"No, I-" Adam had to pause to yawn. "You're so warm and I'm so comfortable, I'm going to fall asleep in about two seconds and-"

Ronan pressed a quick kiss to his lips again. "Sh, I get it, go to sleep."

Adam rubbed his cheek against the pillow, eyes already closing, but his grip on Ronan's waist tightened. "You'll stay?"

Ronan kissed his temple. "I'll stay."

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[deerspherestudios]

Would it be possible for m/c to ever possibly escape and if so what would his reaction be ?

Now why would you want to escape? There's nothing wrong with your mushroom friend ::-)!

(Technically not canon,,, yet,,,, this was a Patreon sketch request!!)

[unboundprompts]

Can you do some more body language descriptions? For different emotions like Worry, sadness, love, etc!! Ty🩷🩷

Body Language Descriptions

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Worry

She wrung her hands together, her fingers twisting nervously as she struggled to keep her thoughts in check.

He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze darting anxiously around the room.

She pulled at her sleeve, the movement repetitive and absentminded as her mind raced.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a habit that betrayed his inner turmoil.

They hugged their arms tightly across their chest, as if trying to hold themselves together.

She paced the room, her steps quick and uneven as she tried to shake off the nagging sense of dread.

Sadness

She wiped at her eyes, even though no tears had fallen yet.

He let his shoulders sag, his whole body slumping as if the weight of the world rested on him.

She clutched her scarf tightly, her fingers gripping the fabric like it was the only thing grounding her.

He kept his head low, staring at the ground as if afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

They let out a shaky exhale, the sound heavy with unspoken grief.

She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Love

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile soft and shy as she met his gaze.

He brushed her hand lightly, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

They leaned closer, their knees nearly touching, as if drawn together by an invisible force.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression tender and full of quiet affection.

He laughed easily, the sound warm and unguarded, his gaze never leaving her face.

She reached out to fix his collar, her fingers lingering as she adjusted it carefully.

Guilt

He avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

She rubbed her temples, her hands trembling.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to stay still.

She clasped her hands tightly behind her back, her knuckles white as she fought to remain composed.

They bit their lower lip, their jaw tightening.

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his movements jerky and hesitant.

Fear

She took a step back, her breath quickening as her eyes darted to the nearest exit.

He clenched the fabric of his shirt over his chest, as if trying to steady his pounding heart.

She froze in place, her body stiff and her movements tentative, like a deer caught in headlights.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he fought to calm himself.

They pressed their back against the wall, their hands splayed out.

She whispered under her breath, her words shaky and barely audible.

Jealousy

He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening as his gaze followed her every move.

She tapped her foot impatiently, the rhythm sharp and irritated as she forced a smile.

He clenched his fists at his sides, the tension in his knuckles betraying his calm demeanor.

She cast a sideways glance, her lips pressed into a thin line.

They shifted in their seat, their shoulders stiff.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his movements brisk and frustrated as he fought to contain his thoughts.

Relief

She exhaled deeply, her shoulders dropping as the tension melted away.

He ran a hand down his face, his smile faint but unmistakably genuine.

She laughed shakily, her hand pressed to her chest as if trying to steady her racing heart.

He slumped against the nearest chair, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up.

They let their head fall back, their eyes closing as a soft, contented sigh escaped their lips.

She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the surface of the table as the weight lifted from her mind.

Embarrassment

She tugged at the collar of her shirt, her cheeks flushing as she avoided everyone’s gaze.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his lips twitching into an awkward, forced smile.

She bit her lip, her hands fluttering nervously.

He let out a strained laugh, scratching the side of his head.

They hid their face in their hands, peeking out between their fingers with a sheepish grin.

She stumbled over her words, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt as her cheeks burned bright red.