Now That His Attacker Was Incompacitated, Alan Set About Making Coffee. The Aftermath Of The Fight Left

Lively chatter and the swell of festive music warmed the cold air. The protagonist had settled into a rhythm passing out food in the soup kitchen, greeting their guests with a smile, when they locked eyes with a certain unexpected visitor.

"T-this isn't what it looks like," their rival stammered.

The protagonist stared back, because how could they not. "I thought your parents were rich," they blurted.

"T-they... They are," they said, face burning red.

"Then why are you here?"

CW: Death

but this advice lives in my mind rent-free

some of the best writing advice I’ve ever received: always put the punch line at the end of the sentence.

it doesn’t have to be a “punch line” as in the end of a joke. It could be the part that punches you in the gut. The most exciting, juicy, shocking info goes at the end of the sentence. Two different examples that show the difference it makes:

doing it wrong:

She saw her brother’s dead body when she caught the smell of something rotting, thought it was coming from the fridge, and followed it into the kitchen.

doing it right:

Catching the smell of something rotten wafting from the kitchen—probably from the fridge, she thought—she followed the smell into the kitchen, and saw her brother’s dead body.

Periods are where you stop to process the sentence. Put the dead body at the start of the sentence and by the time you reach the end of the sentence, you’ve piled a whole kitchen and a weird fridge smell on top of it, and THEN you have to process the body, and it’s buried so much it barely has an impact. Put the dead body at the end, and it’s like an emotional exclamation point. Everything’s normal and then BAM, her brother’s dead.

This rule doesn’t just apply to sentences: structuring lists or paragraphs like this, by putting the important info at the end, increases their punch too. It’s why in tropes like Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking or Bread, Eggs, Milk, Squick, the odd item out comes at the end of the list.

Subverting this rule can also be used to manipulate reader’s emotional reactions or tell them how shocking they SHOULD find a piece of information in the context of a story. For example, a more conventional sentence that follows this rule:

She opened the pantry door, looking for a jar of grape jelly, but the view of the shelves was blocked by a ghost.

Oh! There’s a ghost! That’s shocking! Probably the character in our sentence doesn’t even care about the jelly anymore because the spirit of a dead person has suddenly appeared inside her pantry, and that’s obviously a much higher priority. But, subvert the rule:

She opened the pantry door, found a ghost blocking her view of the shelves, and couldn’t see past it to where the grape jelly was supposed to be.

Because the ghost is in the middle of the sentence, it’s presented like it’s a mere shelf-blocking pest, and thus less important than the REAL goal of this sentence: the grape jelly. The ghost is diminished, and now you get the impression that the character is probably not too surprised by ghosts in her pantry. Maybe it lives there. Maybe she sees a dozen ghosts a day. In any case, it’s not a big deal. Even though both sentences convey the exact same information, they set up the reader to regard the presence of ghosts very differently in this story.

Respectfully, I've seen this advice hit the opposite extreme, and I agree with the intent, but not the message. Power fantasies, Mary Sues, and Self Inserts wouldn't be popular if a "perfect" character was always uninteresting to read. (That said, "perfect" characters tend to show a writer's ideologies and imperfections) Conversely, when a character is always beat down on, always losing, always choosing the worst possible option, that can reach a certain banality too. Characters need contrast in some way. If a character keeps suffering extreme loss, give them something to help cope. Let them have a tiny moment of levity. If a character is flawless, give them a problem with no clear or "correct" solution. Contrast them against flawed characters. Again, I feel like you said this in a way, but I felt it needs clarification. Variety is the spice of life and all that.

Listen, you can’t write perfect characters. No one cares about reading about someone who never screws up. Your characters need to make bad decisions, they need to hurt people, and they need to be hurt. They should doubt themselves and do things they regret. That’s where the magic happens, when they’re flawed, messy, and human. People don’t fall in love with characters because they’re flawless; they fall in love because those characters remind them of the chaos inside themselves. So don’t be afraid to put your characters through hell. Only then will their journey mean something.

The villain emerging from their hiding spot. "Oh. This is sad."

The hero startled, dropping a pie. The pyrex glass shattered on the floor, and they screeched in dismay.

"VILLAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Before them was a sizable feast, lovingly and meticulously labeled and surrounded by holiday decorations. They must have been at this for hours, cutting and mixing and basting and roasting.

Villain crossed their arms. "Why aren't you at the party at Superhero's house?"

Hero stopped, hands hovering over broken glass. "There's... A..." The hero blinked. Stared. "But... Superhero said I was hosting this year."

"You're not picking up that glass with your hands," the villain said disappointingly.

"Did... Did they text me about this?" The hero pulled out their phone and scrolled with rising panic. "Look, see? See?! They ASKED me to host this year!!"

They sunk to the floor. "M-maybe I missed a follow-up text. Why would they do this? Why would they--"

They went silent, scrolling through post after post on social media. Heroes laughing, smiling, playing games. Their friends.

"They... N-no one told me the plans changed," the hero whispered.

The villain grabbed a plate.

"W-what are you doing." Hero glanced up with watery eyes.

"You're going to eat all this yourself?" The villain snorted.

Even when you suspect what's happening, you are hit by the reveal. Very fun read.

will you write something vampire themed for spooky season?

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. The protagonist had half-expected just a plain wood box, scratchy and full of splinters. They supposed, if they had to die, they could at least do so in style.

It didn't really make them feel better.

And it didn't make the coffin fit two people any better either.

"Stop squirming," the secret love of their life snapped. "You're just going to get us more stuck."

"I don't think it's possible to get more stuck." Their voice was only a little, reasonably, hysterical. "We're buried alive in a bloody coffin!"

The secret love of their life looked awful beneath them. Pallid, even in the crowded gloom of their shared grave. They felt clammy and cold beneath the protagonist's limbs.

The protagonist swallowed. They tried to stop squirming. There were no comfortable positions.

The love of their life hissed between their teeth with irritation, and if the protagonist could see properly, they were sure that a terrifying and wrathful and gorgeous glare would be pointed in their direction.

"I'm sorry," the protagonist said. For the squirming, sure, but mostly for everything else. For somehow getting them into this mess. For being the last idiot that the love of their short life would ever see. For not knowing how to save either of them.

"You should stop talking and conserve your air."

"You should stop talking and conserve your air," the protagonist mumbled. They closed their eyes. They tried not to panic. The panic closed in on them on every side, just like the too close suffocating padded walls, and the steady weight of six or so feet of packed soil crushing them on all sides.

"Someone's going to rescue us," the love of their life said. "Your friends - someone - will figure out where we are."

"Coffin. My first guess too."

"They'll get us out." The growl in their friend's voice was almost inhuman. Quite impressive.

The protagonist bit down hard on their lip, and the rather unhelpful response of 'before or after we die from the lack of oxygen? Because, you know, I read that people can survive five hours locked in a coffin. Tops. If they're not hyperventilating. But who's hyperventilating! I'm not hyperventilating! Are you?'

Their friend drew a sharp breath. Then they squirmed, hypocritically, before managing to place cool hands on either side of the protagonist's whirling brain.

"Easy," they murmured, abruptly far more gentle. "You're okay. You're going to be okay. I'm not - I won't let anything bad happen to you."

The protagonist felt tears prick the corners of their eyes. Absurd.

One of their friend’s thumbs grazed over their lip, wiping away the bead of blood there.

"Match your breathing to mine," their friend murmured, voice a little hoarse and trying-to-keep-it-together. "Concentrate on me."

The protagonist did their best. Their friend breathed very slowly, admirably calm really, given the circumstances.

"I won't hurt you," their friend said. "I love you. I won't."

"It's not you I'm worried about. Wait - you love me?"

It was impossible to see the love of their life's face, and really, a coffin was the worst place for a confession. Because the protagonist would very much have liked to have seen their face. At least if they were hanging over a lava pit, the protagonist would have been able to see their face, and make a judgment on if they meant that platonically or romantically.

God. They hated their brain.

Their friend didn't say anything and the silence was surely almost as agonising as dying. Almost. They brushed a tear away from the protagonist's cheek, feather-light.

"More than anything," their friend said. "Now shut. up. Please. And please, please, stop moving."

The protagonist shut up. Somehow. They rested their head against their friend's chest, letting the knowledge of that confession fill them with warmth, or try to.

At least they were dying in a coffin with someone they loved. Who loved them back. Someone's whose heart was so...

The protagonist stopped. It was a trick. A mistake. Something. But it felt, beneath their ear, like their friend's heart wasn't beating. Actually, when the protagonist really thought about it, now that their breathing was more or less steady, even in the squashed space they couldn't hear their friend's breathing at all. They couldn't feel it against their cheek and...

They didn't think the love of their life had always been so cold.

"Why." The protagonist resisted the urge to shift again. "Why do you think you're going to hurt me? Worst you're going to do is elbow me in the face?"

Their friend was silent a second time.

"Right?" The protagonist pressed.

"Someone will find us. They'll get us out. It's not a problem. It won't be a problem."

"What...what won't be a problem?" But the protagonist, with a dreadful twist in their stomach, knew. It should have been obvious, maybe, in the last twenty four hours.

The stomach bug. The dark glasses. The cringing from the sunlight.

"I won't hurt you." A mantra. Not a reassurance; a mantra, a plea. "I love you. I won't hurt you. You're going to be fine."

Five hours, suddenly, seemed like a lifetime.

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. Excellent quality. Top notch.

Nothing else, after all, would keep in a newly turned and starving vampire locked up.

"Shit," the protagonist whispered.

And that about summed up their current predicament.

Oh goodness, I'm here for these vibes and would love a part 2.

Prompt #82

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain swore they could smell the hero's very prominent cologne in the dark office, and they had to resist the urge and not take every little thing away with them.

But no, they were on a mission. And they needed to focus, or else the supervillain would-

"You're the recruit, aren't you?" Someone spoke up, the voice was deep and smooth. They sounded amused.

The vilian froze, in the process of sniffing the hero's coat that hung on the chair behind their desk. They look up, alerted. And take out their gun. The person walked closer, and their face glowed under the moonlight. The village's eyes widened when they saw who it was.

The hero grinned. "Relax. I'm in no mood to fight."

The villain’s heart beat wildly in their chest. They didn't lower the gun, scared and in awe at the same time. The hero was even more good-looking in person as if that was possible. They gulped, and when the hero didn't come closer, they lowered the gun slowly.

The hero's grin only broadened. "Care to tell me why you were sniffing around my coat?" The villain's face immediately went scarlet, their heart dropping in their stomach. '

"Uhh…" They started. "I was searching…for potential information about your- next mission?" They really hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but it did anyway and they cursed under their breath.

"And what is this crucial information you would find in there?" The hero played along, cocking their head to the side.

The villain opened their mouth and closed it, not sure how to tell the hero they were…curious. Well, curious is putting it lightly, they were obsessed, really. "Good question." They said, a second later.

The hero looked more entertained by the minute. They took a few more steps that brought them right in front of the villain, meeting their eyes. The hero's eyes were gray, like the moon, and glowing with mirth.

The villain checked out the hero before they could stop themself, their mouth drying at the sight.

The hero chuckled, "You're terrible at keeping a blank face. A really bad quality for a vilian if I say so myself."

Okay. That's it. Everything they had read about the hero was wrong. The hero wasn't stoic and ruthless as listed in their 'bio', they were something worse: flirty and dangerously good-looking.

🌟👽💫

You see their name on caller ID. Tears form in your eyes. You collect yourself and pick up, only to hear the line disconnect.

im not usually big on hero x villain whump but today im thinking of the two hottest roles in them. villain and medic. i want to combine the two

villain's own medic treating them

"doctor's orders"

"i said bed rest"

"you might be a criminal mastermind or whatever but believe me, those sutures do not care"

villain's medic being the only one in a cushy position

"you know medic, if anyone else talked to me like this, they wouldn't have their tongue now" "but i'm not anyone else, am i?"

villain's own medic being their favourite on the team

"they're the most useful"

"all of you other idiots are practically useless"

villain being their own medic because i guess the evil budget only allowed for evil henchmen

the enemy medic begrudgingly treating villain

"i'm only doing this because i have principles"

"i'm under oath"

"suffering is suffering, and i just can't bear to watch it"

the enemy medic sabotaging villain's recovery

"i've never wanted to leave anyone to suffer before... that changed today"

"you know what's in this syringe? no? good"

evil medic moments?? so good. top tier. both a villain and a medic hold so much power and im just ahdhfj feral for them

Ohhh no, this hit me right in the feels.

"That smell. What is that?"

"I'm not sure."

"I've smelled it before. It's so familiar."

"You're imagining things."

"No, no, it's this tea. You made me this tea before."

"...You should go."