#weepsing

very specific munday asks : what is something you hyperfocus on in your portrayal ?

golden sun ascends into a cloud-free sky and saturates the slow diner's palette with blinding warmth. vivian sits across from bennett, digging sleep from tired eyes, while her other hand grips a laminated and yellowed menu loosely: it would be the same as always, a black coffee and marmalade toast.

as a — frankly greedy — reporter, bennett's words were always to be taken with a measure of caution. anything vivian wouldn't be comfortable with printed in tabloids, or that could cost her the job — or more importantly, the investigation — she couldn't say at all.

vivian squints at bennett through heavy blinks. hazy afternoon beats down on them, diner filled with the scraping of metal knives, hurried waitress footsteps and small - town - talk. she composes herself, or makes an honest effort to, folds the menu over and places it on the table with finality. "enlighten me, bennett. what am i doing?"

just then, a waitress approaches with two mugs. promises the food's on the way. vivian watches the way a bead of sweat rolls down her temple, follows the loose strands of blonde escaping from a bun that's coming undone, and takes note of subtle darkening under the poor waitress' eyes. tough shift, working in this heat.

she accepts the mug with a tightened smile and offers quiet thanks, returns to the matter of one - nosy - reporter while cautiously sipping on scalding coffee. no time to wait. if bennett was going to give vivian a headache this early into the day, she would need all the help she could get. "seems to me like we're just having a pleasant afternoon... unless this is your way of prodding for information about the case— casting bait to piss me off, hoping that i'll slip and say somethin' i shouldn't. it's not happening, so don't get your hopes up." it's just a rogue theory.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 | 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐉𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑. ever since he'd got wrapped up in all of damian's shenanigans ... there was new visitors at the kent household seemingly every few days. this time, though ...

when lois returns home from an errand, she comes to find several ... actually, she wasn't sure who was outside her door, attempting to break into her home. a woman who probably rivaled the height of her husband, a man who seemed to be half - mechanical, she couldn't even see the face of that other one with the cloak, ( probably not a bat - kid ... ) and --- was this kid green ... ?

there came to a point where, amongst the chaos ... lois found a semblance of calm. ( at least, until she could shut herself in her bedroom. ) of course, on top of this, she locks her house keys in her car. the green one seems to be particularly antsy about it. and ... creative.

she could feel a migraine coming on. " please ... don't do that. i'm sure jon'll be down to unlock the door any second now. "

@weepsing : usfw prompts

he understands more than words he'd scramble together could express . bob had chased a need to feel something with substances that had never quite satisfied , leaving him empty and aching inside already thinking on his next high . he regretted the wasted energy he'd spent trying to feel something real that sat out of reach . . . maybe next time it would be different . mickey's admission pulls a sad exhale from his chest , slumping shoulders along with it . fingers smooth back the mess of hair at his brow , like his own it refuses to be tamed and returns to its place , sticking to skin wherever it will .

I'm literally going to kiss you on the mouth thank you so much