Sillyleaf's Silly Thoughts

A space for everything to come together.

[sillyleaf]

It's my 15 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[sillyleaf]

Sketch of a scene from Hell-ish Heartbeats an adorable Fizz x Ozzie x Reader fic by @tinyshyteacup

What's a short human supposed to do in a kitchen made to fit a Sin?

[sillyleaf]

Flash of Fang - a pact made

A short scene within the Flash of Fangs universe

TW: smoking, blood play, biting

Synopsis: She needs to leave, but there is always a chance to meet again. Alastor and the Bear seal things with a pact.

Notes: Not a chapter, just a scene that came to mind.

-------

Smoke curls between them. The cigarette sits between his fingers. He watches as whirls of wispy smoke slip into each inhalation, drifting past her red-stained lips. He breathes out slowly, lets the new breath of smoke coil and twist. She reaches forward, tilts his head up slightly. The air between them is shared. She takes the cigarette from his fingers, draws her own puff, and returns it. Her hands softly study his face. Smoke blooms from her lips as she grabs a makeup brush. He finds himself inhaling, wanting to steal the air she’s flavored. His eyes drift closed as her brush lightly swirls across his skin. Subtle colors slowly build. She adorns the radio host with makeup. They are alone in his place yet again. “When you apply this color, here, here, and here…” She taps his nose in various areas with her makeup brush. “You can make the nose a bit more delicate…” She holds up a mirror, showing where to place shadows and highlights using different powders and pigments. 

“Women have many tricks, I see~” Alastor teases as he takes another drag of the cigarette. He sees bits of his mother in his face. The Bear has …softened his features, and the lip color she’s chosen sends his mind into vivid memories of the woman who raised him. It’s a relief to know how little he’d taken from that man. 

“You make a very beautiful woman, Alastor.” “Jealous are we?” 

“Immensely~ Let’s end the lesson here, or I’ll lose all confidence.” She jokes. Alastor does make a beautiful figure. It’s awkward to see such a softened face, but with masculine mannerisms. “No devouring tonight, it’ll spoil dinner.” He taps ash off the cigarette into a nearby ashtray.  “I do have a new appreciation for the skillcraft of women.” “Learning to do it creates appreciation for those who society demands dress the part each day.” She closes her makeup box and finds her favorite spot on the sofa. “Besides, looking like a woman and acting the part are different. You’d be pegged  the moment you walked into a room.” 

That gets a laugh from him. A simple chuckle that breaks the softness that had gathered between them. Her own lips twist in a toothless smirk. “I’ll endeavor to learn the part, my friend.” He takes another  drag of the cigarette, his head tilts back against the sofa. Tension leaves his body. 

“I’ve no doubt you can pull it off if needed. But I must admit I prefer your handsome grin without the lip color.” She hands Alastor a cloth to wipe his face clear. She steals the cigarette for the last few dregs before pressing it out in the ashtray. Smoke lingers in the air as Alastor cleans up, grabbing her hand mirror to ensure nothing is left behind. They exist in the quiet of the evening. Neither speaks, but the company is appreciated. Alastor is the first to move; his hand lightly grabs hers. Their fingers entwine for only a moment. Both hands are calloused. She moves towards him because she wants to, she sits on the arm of the sofa, leaning towards him. He grabs her waist and pulls her into his lap. There is no hunger. No urgency. Only peace. There’s peace. Neither wants more. He leans forward to claim her collar, softly bites, until the smallest beads of red form. She only leans forward when he relaxes, when he’s finished marking her skin. It is a ritual they’ve repeated countless times in the last year.  Her hands trace along the radio host’s neck, slow and with purpose. The buttons of his shirt come undone.  One of her hands pulls the fabric away as Alastor leans back, his own hands support her, wrap around her waist, and never drift. She finds a spot lower on his chest, where everything can be kept hidden. He feels her teeth press into his skin. Sharp pain pulls a growl from him. She isn’t as slow in her pursuit but is so much more precise. It’s as if he is made to tear apart flesh, to shred it, whereas she can slice through it. When she finishes, a moment of fancy hits her. Her thumb captures some of the beads of blood she’d left. Alastor watches her stare at the minuscule amount of red that’s beaded on her thumb. “Shall we make a pact?” “A blood pact? Are we children?” He watches her carefully. Her unstained hand draws his hand to her chest, slides it upwards to the wound, pulls his finger over some of the fresh beads of blood. He understands in that moment what she’s planning. “Nothing soul crushing, no ownership, no binding spells…just…in life and death we shall recognize each other, remember each other. No matter the masks we wear.” She holds her thumb over the bite mark Alastor left. It hovers, waiting for him to do the same with his own mark. “No chains, no binds, no cages. So long as we are free to do so…let’s simply know each other by our true faces.” Alastor considers her words. He sees no tricks within the pact. They already knew each other as hunters and vile beasts. Murderers without a chance of redemption. There is no need for this sentimentality. Not if she remains in New Orleans. 

“Are you leaving?” he asks, and some dread fills his chest. It's absurd. She is a good friend, but he knew…he knew they couldn’t stay together. 

She doesn’t need to say the words. He can see the way her eyes soften, fond and lonely. “They have found me a cage…and while I will definitely escape them…I must move my hunting grounds.” “Then is this our last night? Mon ami? I did not prepare a parting gift.” “I have a few more days in town…But I could disappear at any moment. So I wanted …a chance…in Hell, at the very least I want to find you in the fires and filth.” She had learned of magics, and such in New Orleans. The soft-spoken folk tales, the stories that were meant as warnings. Alastor told fascinating tales when given a good drink. She doesn’t wait and presses her thumb into the bite Alastor left, grinding his blood into the wound.  It takes a moment, but soon Alastor does the same. The shadows seem to deepen in that moment. A pact forms. A promise. The bayou goes silent for the count of two heartbeats. “So long as we are both free, we shall recognize each other in life and death.” He utters the rules of the agreement. They have only ever been friends. Neither is ruled by lust of the body. Both stare at each other. Alastor and his bear. His… Someday perhaps, but not in this moment. “See you in Hell?” He asks with a wicked smile, leaning close to her. “Always, you demon.” She leans the last few inches. Her lips meet his. 

The kiss carries the taste of shared smoke, of flesh, and their favored drinks. 

Her arms wrap around him, Alastor twists and lays her across the sofa, his hands claw at the sleeves of her blouse, desperate not to let her go. 

“One more hunt,...together. I want to see your fangs one more time.” He can’t help feeling desperate to stay close. How pitiful. How human. “Then tomorrow…you can choose the target I have packing to do. I’ll eat a light lunch, so do make our last meal a good one.”  She presses another kiss to Alastor’s lips before he can reply. She wants him close, that’s all. Both of them are broken in the same way. Neither of them longs for flesh to sate carnal desires. They weave their fingers together. Just the contrast of their skin is a sin to some. How foolish.  Certainly, she is a damned but not for this. 

He cradles her close. His head settles on top of hers. They rest to the sound of jazz over the radio. The scent of smoke still lingers in the air. The dim light catches Alastor’s eyes. They flash with eldritch color as he gently kisses her hair.  Mine.

Her crimson lips twist, and monstrous fangs flash in the dark. Her hands coil around Alastor. Mine.

Two demons. Two sets of fangs. And a promise to be fulfilled in Hell. 

[deltasix101]

Episode 8 Pt. 3

Reader: *Firing Angel's gun at the angels while the kickback makes her stumble* Geez, why is the recoil so hard with these

Angel: *Snickers as he fires his guns without issue* It's cause you're weak

Reader: Oi!

~

Lucifer: Oh, I'm the only one that matters. See, you messed with my daughter, and now, I am going to FUCK you!

*Adam stares at Lucifer, perplexed. Lute and Vaggie stop their fight to stare in confusion at Lucifer. Angel cocks an eyebrow, smiling while Reader wheezes as she leans on him and Husk gives them a deadpanned look, the other Exorcists also stare in confusion*

~

*The ground shakes as dust and debris go flying causing Husk, Cherri, Angel, and Reader to cover their faces. Adam groans in crater where he lay, his mask completely shattered, revealing his human face. He looks up and sees Lucifer in his fully demonic form, a spark of flames emitting between his horns as his eyes glow blood red*

Lucifer: *Demonic tone* YOU COME AT ME, AND MY DAUGHTER! DON'T FORGET, YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE, BITCH! *Proceeds to punch Adam senselessly, fire coming from his hands as he does so and laughs at Adam's pain*

Reader: You know, starting to understand the appeal *Watching Lucifer*

Angel: Same~ *Purring as he bites his bottom lip*

*Lucifer then summons a sphere of fire, preparing to finish him off, before Charlie puts her hand on his shoulder, getting his attention*

Charlie: Whoa, whoa, Dad. He's had enough *They look down to Adam, who lies motionless on the ground*

Lucifer: Alright *Flies out of the crater* How's mercy taste, you little bitch? *Smug as him and Charlie walk away*

Adam: No... *Gets up* you don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! *Gets out of crater and faces gang* I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! *Points down* You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers-Agahh! *A small knife is stabbed through him from behind*

*Everyone stares at him in shock*

Vaggie: Woa-hoah!

Reader: *Wide-eyed* Adam?!

Lucifer: Hey, y-ya got somethin' stickin' outta your... *Points at Adam's chest* your thing there

*Adam collapses face first to the ground, revealing Niffty on his back who snuck up behind him and stabbed Adam*

Charlie: Niffty?!

Niffty: *Niffty stares blankly at Adam for a few seconds before smiling and viciously stabbing Adam again and again* STAB! STAB STAB! Hahahaha! Haha! Hahaha! RUEAhahaha! Blood! Hahahaha!!

Lute: *Watching in horror* NOOOO! *Dashes to Adam's body and turns his body over to face her* Sir! Sir! Stay with me sir! *Adam gives her a soft smile before closing his eyes* ADAM!

Reader: *Crossing her arms* Well this sucks *Huffs in disappointment*

Angel: *As shocked as the others* What?! How?

Reader: *Throws her arms up* How are we supposed to rub redemption in his face now?! *Gestures to Adams dead body* He just had to go and freaking die on us!

*The others deadpan as Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer go deal with Lute*

Husk: *Pats Reader's back amused* Still got the rest of Heaven to rub redemption in the face of

Reader: *Leans against him, pouting* Still...

Lucifer: *Turning to the group* Sooo.... *Sighs* Who's up for pancakes?

*Only Niffty and Reader raise their hands, everyone else just looks at him, unamused*

☆

*While everyone searches through the rubble, Reader walks up to Vaggie as she looks around worried*

Reader: *Placing a hand on Vaggie's shoulder as they watch Charlie hug Keekee* I'm gonna go look for Alastor and see how he's holding up

Vaggie: *Worried* Ok, shout if you two need help

Reader: I will *Squeezes her shoulder before heading off*

~

*Reader slowly makes her way over rubble, wincing as she has to flap her charred wings occasionally to maintain balance. She sighs in relief as she makes it to level ground and heads for the glowing red light of the radio tower*

Alastor: This place reeks of death

Reader: *Hears his voice as she hurries along the jaggered rocks* Al

Alastor: There's a chill in the air

*Reader finally finds him weakly walking to his tower and stops curiously as she hears him sing before following him at a distance*

Alastor: *Crawls into his radio tower* And she helped me escaped from being killed by a hair. "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends"

*Reader walks under the tower*

Alastor: Sorry to disappoint! That is not where this ends! I'm hungry for freedom, like never before *Walks through his radio tower, his eyes darting around the room while tugging on his hair* The constraints of my deal surely have a back door

Reader: *Confused by where the green light is coming from but narrows her eyes as she looks up at the open hatch* Deal?

Alastor: Once I figure out how to unclip my wings. I'll bring her back!

Reader: *Peeking over the ledge before leaning on it with her elbows as she looks up at his back*

Alastor: Then guess who will be pulling all the strings? *Laughs maniacally as his shadow looms above him*

Reader: *Tugs at his coat as she crawls inside* Chill Jack Skellington

Alastor: *Breath hitches as he spins around* Darling!? *His hands shoot down and grab her*

Reader: *Eyes widen* Wait, Al-!

Alastor: *Grunts and grips his chest as the wound bleeds* Damn it

Reader: *Sighing softly as she takes his arm and helps him sit down against the wall* Stubborn Buck *Gently slips his coat and bowtie off and starts unbuttoning his shirt*

Alastor: *Grabs her wrists blushing fiercely* What are you doing!?

Reader: Trying to look at the damage? *Tilts her head confused*

Alastor: *Looks away embarrassed with his ears pinned back* That's not necessary, dear, I'm fine...

Reader: *Raises an eyebrow* Uh-huh, sure and this isn't your blood on my fingers *Sighes* I'm so not dealing with this beauty and the beast bullshit *Rips open his shirt* So shut up and deal with your insecurities later!

*Alastor bleats in surprise and flustered embarrassment before it goes silent in the tower*

Reader: *Wide-eyed shock* Did you just-?

Alastor: *Mortified* NO! *Refuses to meet her eyes*

Reader: *Smiles softly but doesn't push it* Ok *Takes the wet towel that his shadow brought her* This is going to sting

*Alastor stays quiet with his mouth clamped shut to keep anymore embarrassing noises from slipping out as Reader cleans his wounds with the materials his shadow provided*

Reader: You'll have get to get stitches for this *Bites her lips in worry*

*Alastor silently waves his hand and green stitching appears, closing the wound*

Reader: Oh... *Impressed* That works *Grabs the gauze to start wrapping him up*

*As she wraps her arms around Alastor's chest to wrap the gauze around his back, he buries his face in her neck*

Alastor: *Whispering* I'm glad you're alive still...

Reader: I'm glad you're alive too *Nudges his head as she secures the gauze in place* Now we need to get back to the others, so... *Her brain finally catches up with the fact that Alastor is half naked as she stares at his chest* Uhhhh

Alastor: *Smirks mischievously* You know, you could have at least bought me dinner before you stripped me~

Reader: *Grabs his coat and chucks it at his face* Shut up and get dressed!

Alastor: *Snickers as he fixes his clothes* Such bad bedside manners, Nurse Y/N

*Reader only puffs out her cheeks as she turns her back on him*

Alastor: *Huffs in amusement as he whispers to himself* Still the same despite everything *Gazes at her back fondly before shaking his head and walking to her side and lifting his arm to her* Shall we?

Reader: *Takes his arm* Let's go *Can't stay mad at him regardless of his teasing*

~

*Alastor and Reader appear arm in arm in the middle of the group*

Alastor: And we're doing it with a smile!

*Everyone except for Husk and Lucifer cheer and hug Alastor and Reader*

Charlie: Al!

Lucifer: Oh, this guy *Disappointed*

Charlie: We'll make a difference, wait and see!

Charlie and Vaggie:  We're gonna do this, you and me!

Everyone: And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin' happy day in hell! *All of them sing while looking at the rebuilt hotel*

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

Taglist

@the-autistic-moth @moonwalker0504 @mellowfailure666 @mistressnya @emmeow03 @akiisp @artisticbishoujorin @acehyacinth @eirlysswiftie @zamadness @m30w43vr @i-like-to-cry @fantasyhopperhea @tjmaxx556 @noneofthemany @cedarrsticklycavern @rayndr0p @animesimp420 @paintbrushofanimeuniverse @sunset-toast @qc0rminix @introvertreader20 @danngerouslikeari @asheve @misshyori @btsgangleader @jazztato @the-bookish-artist @chubbi-berry @cluelessteam @sallymoon135 @sam-san-sam @itwaszzmoon @luleck @tumblblob

[sillyleaf]

Flash of Fangs 2

A continuation of sorts of Flash of Fangs Thanks again to @youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon for the prompt. It's less of a hunt and more of two predators co-existing at this point. TW: a bit of biting Synopsis: A chance meeting at the grocer's turns into a cultural exchange and a testing of boundaries. Predator recognizes predator... Note: Takes place while Alastor is still alive.

Flash of Fangs 2

Her heels tap a rhythmic cadence through the street on a fine and blistering day. A light sheen of sweat on the back of her neck causes the short hairs that had escaped from her updo to stick. The damp air is also awful for her makeup. It is still better than the sweatbox of an office she works at. The overall …perfume… of everyone slowly melting is a memory best not to linger on. This weekend, she deserves a whole meal, something special. Something familiar and heart-filling. A taste of a world across the ocean. 

The butcher is her last stop. Her hand-sewn fabric grocery bag is heavy with produce and other necessities, but she doesn’t seem to strain with the weight. She has always been a strong woman. The door to the butcher's chimes as she steps in. She grabs a small note from her bag with the items she’d need for tonight. The butcher is in the process of serving a customer. Her smile softly widens when she notes a familiar man also waiting to order. Her mood takes a better turn. The memory of dancing and long conversations acts like a balm over her tired countenance.  He hadn’t missed her entrance either. Alastor turns and offers a simple greeting to the Bear. “It’s a scorcher today. I hope you are faring well, my dear.” 

“Surviving for the weekend. God willin’ some good food will make the week worth it. A little taste of the past if I’m lucky enough.” She adjusts the bag of groceries and soon feels the weight lift from her arm. Alastor takes the bag from her. “Such a gentleman. Thank you.” Her accent stands out to the Radio Host. Not Creole or local American. She has a muted English accent. Sometimes a bit of the New Orleans dialect works its way in, so she’s been living in the area long enough to pick things up and shed some of her original manners of speech. It wasn’t quite like the Transatlantic style either. It was truer and something a bit less proper or known in these parts. 

“It’s no burden. As it happens, I’m also planning a little feast inspired by the past. Something my Mother taught me.” His eyes soften only for a moment when he mentions his mother.

She sees it. The melancholy and sadness despite his smile. She’d learned to never watch the cunning man’s mouth. That was always a lie. You had to look at his eyes, his eyebrows, his posture. The stiffness in his face or the softness. She knew logically to look for those tells, but it was harder in practice. They weren’t so close. “I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. I have to say…” The customer who walks in next shoulders past Alastor, rudely and on purpose. “Excuse me. The line starts back here, Monsieur!” Alastor brushes the interaction off (for now), but she doesn’t. Her back stiffens. Her posture changes. Alastor is fascinated. From a common resident to a proper and refined lady. Someone best treated kindly lest her connections find out. The man gives a noncommittal reply but turns around. His face pales. His mind stutters. He feels like a kid being scolded by the teacher. Even the way she lightly grips her right wrist with her left hand, fingers flexing, has him disarmed. “Sorry, Miss, I didn’t notice you.”  He offers her his place in line, letting her move ahead. His face sours when she offers her arm to Alastor, who flawlessly joins her. 

There is no blowout. No fight or petty revenge. Alastor buys his ingredients and she hers. They leave together and let the man stew in his confused anger. “My, my, you are a wonderful actor, my dear. A spine-chilling rendition of a discontented noble.” She tries to retrieve her grocery bag, but he dismisses the attempt. They’re going the same way for now. 

“I did have such an aspiration in youth. But alas. I’m too tall for any stage show and prefer playing the prince most of the time.” She teases as they wander the streets. He doesn’t need to slow his pace with her. Their steps match. It’s easy to follow the steady cadence she walks with. 

They had encountered each other on occasion at social events. He recalls she often dressed more masculine, though she had been to some events in a dress. “Well, you do make a dashing figure.” “As do you. So what special meal will you be making?” She takes her grocery bag back, the strap going around her shoulder. She barely shows any effort in carrying its weight. They’ve come to a crossroads. He heads one way and she the other. If she asked, he’d probably escort her home, but she doesn’t need the help.

“Jambalaya, an old family recipe!” Alastor grins as she pulls away. There’s no one around at the moment, so they can chat for a bit. “Last time I had Jambalaya wasn’t great. Nothing really blended together, and I swear I was picking shrimp shell outta my teeth.” Alastor doesn’t hesitate to reply, “ How horrible. Tell me who poisoned your tongue so I can cut theirs out!” No one had any business serving a foreign lady a bad bowl of New Orleans cuisine. “I would but …he’s no longer in this world. Probably choked on the shrimp.” She raises a hand to cover her grin. Alastor halts himself from moving to stop her. Wanting to catch a flash of her fangs but not so improper as to manhandle a woman for his own curiosity. 

“Then a reintroduction is in order! I  insist you join me for dinner tomorrow, perhaps?” Not many were given such an honor. “I don’t want to impose on you, Alastor.” She said, but that was social nicety. Her smirk and bright eyes announced her agreement. “Nonsense. I welcome your wit and a chance to see that unguarded smile of yours. Come however you see fit.” He played the game of civility. Offering her a chance to wear what she liked. “Then, if you do tomorrow’s dinner. I’ll insist on bringing dessert. Do you fancy sweets or are you more of a fig and fruitcake type? I make a delicious pineapple upside-down cake.” “I do indulge in sweets from time to time. That pineapple cake sounds delicious. It would go well with after supper tea.” And a bit of jazz in the background for ambience. They could chat in private and without interruption. 

“So would a finger or two of brandy…but we’ll see how the dinner goes.” They made plans on how to meet up. Alastor didn’t want her wandering the streets she was unfamiliar with. It was best to account for onlookers and prevent gossip. 

—--------

What she saw in the mirror wasn’t quite right. Her hair was unbound, freshly brushed, and her face had the red lips and neutral eye shadow from the day still applied. Nice soft lines that had pleased her this morning. Now though, she wanted something else. Slowly, she wiped off the pretty mask. Cleansing her skin and preparing it for simpler contouring. Her lips are bare. Her brows darkened and made more prominent, fuller.  A dash of dark powder to make her jaw more defined. Mostly, she let her blemishes remain visible. It was rather scandalous to be so naked…he had said to come however she saw fit. Short hair was common among women recently, but she preferred her long hair. Some deep part of her rebelled against cutting it. Instead, she spends time pinning it in place with her hat made to conceal what it could. She notes the time and gathers the basket with dessert. 

Alastor was already waiting. A newspaper in his hand. He flipped through the pages. A coffee on the table is nearly finished. He meets her eye from across the street. She wanders towards him, and he notes she’d dressed exactly as he imagined she would. “Pardon me Sir~. I’m waiting for a beautiful woman to maul me.” Alastor didn’t bother to finish his drink. He folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “Too bad. She said she wasn’t interested. I’m here instead looking for a handsome but exceedingly snarky radio host.” The two smirked. Alastor not taking the basket out of respect for the role the Bear was playing. “This way. I do hope you have an appetite!” With the evening settling in, the air has a faint breeze. The mid-day sun is far away, and the unique colors of the last few hours of muted daylight light their path. The buildings show a litany of colors and conditions. “Ravenous~!” She admits. “I’ve no doubt your deft hand will have prepared a memorable meal.” Her head tilts to the side only slightly. Alastor picks up on the motion. His eyes trail to the edges of the shadows. She’d noticed the group a moment sooner. “And if not?” He crosses the street, and she follows. They laugh a bit. She waves a hand to cover her mouth from view. And a shiver runs through the spines of the men in the shadows as two predators gaze towards them. “Then I’ll just need to sink my teeth into something else.” She jokes, but the men in the shadows hear the threat. It’s not worth poking a bear when all they want is something quick and easy. 

They stroll along, letting the spaces between houses widen. Nature becomes denser, thick foliage backs onto simple properties. Music comes from nearly every house they pass. Laughter and chatter leak through the walls as people sit for family dinners or host friends for the evening. 

Alastor watches her closely. She blends into whatever role she believes serves her best. Is this the real woman? Or is she wearing another mask? He prides himself on knowing people. He’s watched her, knows there’s something dangerous to her, but she keeps it in check. Few people with clean hands can inject the type of bloodlust she does when facing a disappointing threat. 

“Keep staring like that, and I might get the wrong idea.” She whispers as she leans towards him. He can’t see her face, but he feels her breath on his neck. Hears a snap of teeth,  before she pulls away and walks at his side once more. 

“Simply appreciating the company. This is my place up ahead.” He grins and shows the woman to his simple home. It’s an aged cottage. Stone for the chimney, while the rest is wood. The porch is spacious with simple chairs. The whole house is on high stilts to keep the water from the nearby bayou from flooding inside during heavy rain. “Welcome, do come in and relax for a while.”  

Inside is a house that’s clean and organized. Red is a staple color, and it looks lovely with the dark woodstain used throughout the house. It’s not perfect, or sterile. It’s lived in. Enjoyed. This is a sanctuary. Little trinkets sit on available surfaces. A radio sits on a table with an old couch and a lounger arranged around it. A blanket haphazardly lies over the back of the couch. There’s a crate under the table that seems to have spare radio parts and a few tools. She can imagine Alastor tinkering late into the night on his precious radio. 

The smell of spices from the kitchen is appetizing. Alastor slips the basket from her arm so she can hang up her jacket. “I’ll place this in the kitchen. Do make yourself comfortable.” 

She wanders to the couch and takes a seat. She nearly misses the moment Alastor returns. His footsteps are silent. “Your home is lovely. I’m envious.” He takes a seat next to her after turning on the radio. Jazz warms the room with its sweet notes. “High praise from a woman who can walk among the upper crust like she was born into royalty.” There’s a question in his teasing statement. “Finishing school with a strict teacher. A way to ‘correct’ my father’s ‘negligence’ in my upbringing.” She sat straighter, adjusts her legs and arms to be demure but fragile. Proper and appealing. Her eyes open a bit wider, and she looks lost and unassuming. The picture of innocence. “Please monsieur, take pity on me. Love me. Provide for me. I’ll be ever the most proper wife if you look past my unfortunate stature~.” Alastor nearly gapes at the doe-eyed and pathetic expression. It makes her look weak, and he didn’t enjoy the act. It did things to him…sickening him and infuriating him at the same time. It was foul. “Knock that off. It’s grotesque!” She relaxes instantly, leans back and looks like herself once more, splayed against the couch. “Yet it works when I use it right~ It’s not like you don’t wear a mask when it serves a use.”

It aggravates him that she is correct. To be seen through, made him wonder if she’d already surmised his true nature. “To each their own methods~ Now, it’s time to eat!” He gets up with her gaze following him. This isn’t a retreat. (He tells himself). —------------------

They sit across from each other. The table is small enough that if she wished to, she could kick the sadistic radio host. She can smell the spice. It pretty much burns her nostrils. His is the same if she can trust her senses. Yet he shoves a mouthful down with not a speck of hesitation. A challenge is set. “It smells wonderful, much better than the last time.” Hopefully, this isn’t a prank. She’ll get him back if it is “My dear, don’t even place that monstrosity in the same category as this delight.” He waves a hand, encouraging her to try. “No need to hesitate, go on.” With slight hesitance she takes a taste. It is spicy, the heat burns her quickly, but it isn’t overwhelming. Instead, there is a tang to the heat, and the way the meat adds to the mix helps balance things out. She takes another bite and hums with approval. Swallowing, she looks across to the toothy grin Alastor is flashing. A confident and knowing glint to his eyes. 

“I admit it’s delicious.  I doubt any other jambalaya will compare…not that I’ve ever had any other…that monstrosity before no longer counts.” They continued to eat, talking casually but not broaching any serious topics. Alastor spoke of other New Orleans dishes. The Bear mentioned what she’d tried so far. Alastor confirmed that the woman didn’t mind some heat and spice but preferred to taste the food and not just the burn. He also noticed how she blushed from the kick of the jambalaya. When it was time to clear the plates, she follows Alastor into the kitchen. Before Alastor can stop her she has her sleeves rolled up to scrub the dishes. Alastor joins her. Standing with a drying rag and taking each piece from her hand. Even the pot and cookware are tidied up. She lets Alastor place everything away while she pulls out the pineapple upside-down cake. She turns to ask for a knife. 

He is there. With not a sound to warn her. 

Less than an inch away. The knife - handle out - already being offered to her.

Her hand wraps around the wooden handle. Her fingers gently graze his. Both hands are calloused. The closeness remains. She doesn’t lean back, and he doesn’t retreat. The blade stays in her hand, the edge pointed towards Alastor. It wouldn’t take much. 

Alastor stares into sharp eyes. A humming thread beats in his ears. His heart he realizes. That blade is so close. She hasn’t realized her mouth is parted slightly as if she’s about to speak. A porcelain gleam of teeth visible past unpainted lips. Her fangs aren’t out. Oh, but he wonders if he could force that toothy grin from her. She relaxes her wrist, and the blade slips to a safe vertical position. The tension ebbs but doesn’t disappear. He steps closer, sets his hands on either side of the kitchen counter. Traps her. And she shows no fear. None. Nor want or desire like women at the club. Simply interested, attentive. She gives a predatory inspection. Intelligent. Cunning. Manipulative. He likes her.  As one predator to another. They hunt different prey. Yet share the same ecosystem. 

Caged between Alastor’s arms, she turns around and leans back. Breaks eye contact, hides the wide grin that cuts across her face. Her back meets his chest. His breath is hot against her neck. She can smell the cigarette smoke on him. “I’ve had many offers for my hand, you know~” She punctuates her words as she slices into the cake. “I’ve wanted none of them.” The idea of the Bear with anyone nearly pulls a snarl from Alastor. They hardly know each other, but she is…familiar. “I’m sure they were abysmal killjoys. Not worth your lovely fangs or claws.” “Perhaps…” She sets the knife down and delicately grabs one of Alastor’s wrists. He allows her to move his hand. Curious as to what she’s planning. She has her back to him. They’re close. Intimate but not carnal.His hand is placed over her mouth. Palm down. He feels her mouth widen, and there’s a prick of canines that do not break the flesh of his palm. It’s restraint rather than the inability. “I just don’t enjoy the idea of a cage.” She nips him but is careful not to mark or draw blood. “Or their hands upon me as if it is their right~” She lays a tender kiss on Alastor’s knuckles and releases his hand. His hand draws back. The fingers sliding past her throat, featherlight nails scrape her skin. A phantom feeling of claws she finds comforting. 

“Who has harmed you?” Alastor asks his voice dark. “No one you can reach without a shovel or a very good seance.” She admits with a laugh that seems to make the shadows of the kitchen shiver. “Oh? A woman who fixes her own problems? Fascinating.” “And a man who does the same. What was that about fangs and claws? You toothy gator~” She holds out a plate with a slice of cake. It’s smells divine. There’s a hint of alcohol likely rum.

Like recognizes like. The shadows in Alastor’s home seem to twist. The last dregs of the setting sun give way to hazy and dim lamplight. He lights a few candles and adjusts the radio to an evening melody. A slow and subtle swing of jazz. He takes a seat beside her, sets down the plate and then gestures to her hair. “If I may?” She sets her own plate down and nods her head. His hands reach for her hair, removing the pins that bind it up. Alastor spends time trailing his fingers through the soft tresses. Carding his fingers to shake out and loosen the strands which bounce into subtle soft waves. She relaxes under the attention. Her eyes drift closed. 

He doesn’t sense anticipation from her.  She doesn’t keen or coo. She doesn’t expect or fear this moment going further. She looks at peace. Beautiful. “I want to bite you.” He whispers in her ear. “And?” She challenges, eyes still closed. He’s lost for words. Only for a moment.  “Nothing beyond that. Simple closeness…tell me about your hunts.” She pulls away, and dread hits him. It was too much to ask for. 

The Bear unbuttons her shirt, only the first few buttons. She folds down her collar and climbs into his lap. “No blood, I like this shirt. And nothing more. She tilts her head, and he’s left with a view of her  shoulder and neck. Her hands reach out and weave into his curly hair. Scratch at his scalp. “Wouldn’t think of ruining such a handsome shirt.” He leans forward and smiles against her skin. So delicate. His jaw opens and he sucks back the saliva that’s begun to gather in anticipation. His teeth press into her. Bruising. He hears her breathing hitch for a moment so he lingers, lets her hands go back to playing with his hair. Slowly he bites down exerting pressure but not enough force to pierce her skin. It’ll bruise. It’ll leave a bluish mark on her flesh, in the shape of his own set of fangs. He holds her in place. His hands feel the corded strength of her upper arms. Not frail. She hides under masks but he understands the power it takes and the cunning to take down prey. He wonders how she does it. Who falls to her? What fears run through them? Will he ever get to see her at her most beautiful? With fangs and claws doused in blood? Time ebbs away. She cannot stay forever. Not tonight. Not yet. There are social niceties to observe.

He helps her clean up. The mark is already blooming on her flesh. They walk through the dark streets as two predators. He doesn’t doubt she would be safe walking alone, but safe and polite are two different categories. As a man, he ensures she makes it home without needing to flash her fangs. They linger on her doorstep. Staring at each other. “Another night then?” She asks with a soft smile. 

“Oh, of course! How about tomorrow?”  And the next night. And the next…

-fin-

[himenoakuma]

Hazbin Writers<3

I wanted to do a collective appreciation post of my favourite Hazbin Writers on here so far and say thank you for feeding my current obsession and creating some beautiful works that feed my soul. I will come back and edit as and when I find new content. Please continue the amazing work it is truly appreaicted so much by so many <3

Note: please bear in mind I read mostly x reader content <3

@daniellaspen

@wysteria-bloom

@atotallser

@voxslays

@french-vanilla-in-the-clouds

@redvexillum

@a-small-lemon

@daydreamin-faraway

@nighttimeglows

@6esiree

@owoducks

@mimicmimikyuwrites

@princessimotep

@swagyalastorwife

@eli-is-here2468

@chainsmokerbunny

[sillyleaf]

How would it go...?

Wonder if I should write a bit more about the Bear and Alastor from "Flash of Fangs".

... Also, if Alastor is "Bambi" would the Bear be Baloo? Maybe Rupert or Paddington?

[sillyleaf]

Flash of Fangs

Based on @youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon prompt :

Post by @youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon

💬 39  🔁 4  ❤️ 80 · And a fiction in which Reader is a victim who is stalked by Alastor? And of course he's going to kill her. But he won't

"Reader is a victim who is stalked by Alastor? And of course he's going to kill her. But he won't, because..."

----- Synopsis: Alastor is nearly bowled over by a rude woman in the street. He seeks revenge but slowly realizes his error. TW: racism

Note: Takes place while Alastor is still alive. Flash of Fang 2 ---------------------------------------

Flash of Fangs

There’s a fog over the city. The dim light filters through as a reddish haze, tinting the old brickwork of the French Quarter. This early in the morning, only a handful of people on their way to work are staggering along. More than a few look like they had a loud and lively night the previous evening. There’s music, it creeps out of tiny rooms in cramped apartments. It lingers in alleyways and street corners. This is a city where sound and soul are inseparable. 

Unfortunately, under the static of the radio is an ever-present din of danger—a dark cord seeking to cause the sweet melodies to sour. Alastor strolls along when what feels like a bear hits him. His body twists away and to the right as he steps lightly to catch himself. He’d not seen the woman until she’d nearly toppled him over. His bow tie is askew, so he quickly sets it properly. He scans the area for witnesses. 

Her snarl resonates as she passes by. A thick English accent. “Get outta ‘ere!” He doesn’t catch her face but imagines it’s pulled back into a crude expression. He’s heard hatred before, the words resonate with a vengeful sort of anger. The streets are clear enough, so she chose not to walk around him. He hadn’t even seen her; she’d been too far to his right. So had she done it deliberately? He folds his arms behind his back and casually tails the insolent woman. 

His own grin warps, strained as he observes her. She’s not a tiny woman, decently tall in her sensible heels. Her shoulders are a bit broad. She walks like a soldier, he notes. There’s a cadence and purpose to each step. Alastor’s eyes focus on her, and a delicious rush creeps over him. Ah, another victim. So nice when prey comes to him. Now to poke the annoying bear. 

—---------------

The woman feels eyes on her…again. Over the past few days, there’s been a prickle on her neck. She tries to ignore it for now as she types out the next report at a rapid pace. Her fingers dance over the heavy keys of the typewriter. The clicks ring in her ears until they become background noise. As she types, she reads and then glances at the boss. This isn’t going to be fun. No point putting off the encounter. It’ll end the same way. If she does it today, maybe she can have a quiet rest of the week? “Sir?” She uses a soft voice, ducking her head slightly like a nervous animal as she raises a hand until the swarmy bastard notices who has called out to him. He takes his damn time, too. “Apologies… but I noticed you’re scheduling this meeting for three days from now,  but that would make it Sunday. The client might not want…” -to meet on a day usually reserved for church-going. Not that either the boss or the client were religious beyond what it said about their public images. The boss begins to rip into her. At this point, she’s memorized his typical tirades. He’ll cuss her out about making such a stupid mistake, even though she hadn’t made the appointment. He had. His secretary had probably warned him as well.  The verbal lashing continues, and she keeps a soft expression, though she tries to look sufficiently reproachful. Nodding her head as if agreeing to the inane comments on her typing speed and ability to work for her modest pay. “Yes, Sir, you are so right, Sir. You mentioned in meetings something about client relationships? Such a marvellous idea! You also mentioned this client rather enjoys cigars, and I believe you just found a nice club recently… perhaps you can take the meeting outside the office as you suggested before?” She’s very careful to try to make her boss feel like everything is his idea.  If it got the man out of the office, all the better. 

When work ends, she is mentally exhausted. Her shoulders and neck are stiff. At the entrance to the office, she takes a deep breath and repositions her hat. Her back straightens, and she scans the streets. The prickles are back, sharper than ever. Grinding her back teeth, she counts out a 1-2-3-and 4 cadence that her steps harshly follow. Following the beat of her father's footsteps. When she passes by an old woman struggling with groceries, she stops and cracks a joke,  sharing the burden to get the woman home safely. Her expression relaxes for a while as she greets the people she passes by. 

Next, she stops by the shop of a mixed Creole family, grabbing tea and a few daily necessities. The shop has been struggling recently.  New people had been moving into the city, and the community was getting to be more separated.  She lingers to chat with the husband, who has a charmingly thick accent. The woman grabs the toddler from behind the counter and sets him on her hip so the wife can join the conversation. The world turns, and the toddler drools on her sleeve, but she gives a warm smile, careful not to flash teeth. “That’s ridiculous, those books are half that price! What title did you want? I’ll grab it for you now… if there were any other shop, I’d be moving my business. Honestly, those entitled twits!” It takes nothing for her to use her own station to slip unharassed through the street. There’s a used bookshop that serves the community, but the son who had taken over seems to be trying to forget his own roots. He won’t show such rudeness to her though. Slipping out into the streets once more, she made good on her words. Grabbing a couple of books while making sure she paid the proper price. She took payment for the books but didn’t upcharge the shop owner or expect extra on top. “If that happens again, you grab me, okay?” When she finally gets home, she chucks off the heels, stretches out, and goes about putting away groceries and prepping dinner. The house isn’t terribly large, but it has a certain charm. In the evening, she fiddles with her father’s radio and sips tea. The soothing notes of jazz slowly unravel the day's fatigue. 

—------------

Alastor leans over the wrought-iron railing. The cooler morning breeze lifts his wavy hair. She'd rudely bumped into him in the street and hadn't spared a look but uttered a "Get outta 'ere!" with a snarl to it. Except that the woman he'd been observing was always careful. Kind and wary... and observant, cunning. She never neared a man by accident, or lost herself enough to 'bump' into anyone haphazardly. He’d had to duck away more than once to keep undetected. She often tilted her head like she was listening to the shadows. Her instincts were sharp.

She was polite even when being drilled by her boss, despite being obviously smarter. That weak and demure way she manipulated the man was endearing, but she didn’t seem wicked.  She treated folks from all sides of the bayou politely. So he wondered what had set her off? 

This was where it had happened. From above Alastor looked for something he’d missed. There didn’t seem to be anything. He wandered down from the balcony and to the street, strolling along until he found himself in the same section as that day. She’d come from the right. The radio host casually wandered over to the shop front that the Bear-woman had charged from. Nothing. Perhaps it was simply a bad day? 

No. He knew hatred. He knew anger. When she had snarled, it made the world vibrate. The memory nearly made his back stiffen. Yet…she’d never glanced at him. She’d been looking forward…no, not precisely. She’d had her head turned a bit to the side, to look across the street perhaps? He leaned back against the building and paused a moment. His eyes narrowed. Ducking a bit lower, he noted a rundown shopfront. The sagging canopy above it hid the occupants inside from view.  As he observed, the men inside seemed rather keen on a dark-skinned man who walked through the section of street where he himself had collided with the woman. A few steps later, and a clump of mud flew at the man on the street. It missed the man’s head but nicked his arm, splattering over his suit. 

So that was why. His smile grew wide. Truly, he owed the woman a favor. 

For the save in the streets, and the nicely bundled prey. 

—------

The room was warm. The jazzy music of the impromptu band echoed as people danced the night away. She arrived dressed in high-waisted slacks with wide suspenders. A simple striped and collared blouse was fitted a bit loosely, while the dark jacket widened her already broad shoulders, and the cut of the slacks kept her waist and hips more streamlined. Her hair was pulled and pinned back with a wide-brimmed hat, hiding most of the bun. The polished men’s dress shoes she wore didn’t click as harshly as her heels did. She moved with less restraint, sliding through the crowd. 

The smell of liquor and tobacco brings a grin to her face, though she’s careful not to show teeth. She leans towards the bar top, but before she can order, a man with dark brown eyes and a handsome smile speaks up “A drink for the lady on me!” “Whiskey straight, thanks,” She says to the bartender.  If she was getting a drink, she might as well make it something she liked. “ Many thanks, but do I know you monsieur…?”  “You wound me! Trample me like a bear and yell at me and then forget me so quickly?” Her eyes focus, and there’s a moment of wariness. Alastor can see when she understands who he is. An apologetic expression crosses her face. “My apologies. I doubt you’ll believe me, but I was not directing my ire at you. Nor did I mean to bump into you so hard.” She often forgot her own strength. It was one of several embarrassing flaws. “Ah, but I would have been covered in filth otherwise, no? Can I ask my savior's name?”  Alastor lifts his glass, and he clinks his rye with the Bear’s whiskey. 

“Only if I can ask yours? Your voice is so familiar…” She’d heard that tone before. That voice of his was familiar, but she hadn’t the slightest idea where from. She gives a brief introduction and takes a slow, appreciative sip of her drink. The hum of appreciation comes unbidden from her lips. It’s been a long week, and the burn of alcohol is appreciated. 

“Alastor, pleasure is mine. And perhaps you’ve heard of me on the radio?” Her eyes brighten, and she nods her head, “Yes, you do the morning show, yes? I always look forward to it, but I heard recently that you were going to do noon and evening broadcasting? I suppose I’ll need to catch you in the evenings now.” She gestures to a seat, freeing up the bar for the next patrons. 

He trails behind her, taking a seat across from her. “Oh? An admirer?” “An appreciator. You make even the forced reads you likely go through at the very least bearable…speaking of bears? I didn’t injure you, did I?”  Her smile isn’t as toothy as Alastor's, but it lights up her eyes. He wonders if she ever cracks a wide smile. 

“Nearly knocked my bow tie off! Never you mind.” He laughs and waves off the concern. 

The music shifts as the person on the piano changes. It gives the band a song or two to get a drink and mingle. She relaxes back in her seat but tilts her head every so often as people walk behind her. Alastor observed her. The way she tracks where people are in the room. She is not looking for an escape; there’s no fear in the action. He has no doubt this woman knows where every exit is already, and more than a few plans to get out if a raid happens. “The pianist is murdering that song.” She slams back the rest of her drink and stands up. “Let me get ya your drink this time. You good with another rye?” Alastor is by her side before she can collect his empty glass. The speed doesn’t shock her. It’s the way he bends a bit and offers a polite hand to her. “What about a dance instead, my dear? Looks like the pianist is about to shuffle off.” Her hand meets his. She’s not a delicate or fragile woman. Her hands are groomed and sport calluses. Her fingers are long, and he can imagine them dancing over ivory keys just as adeptly as she handles a typewriter. He’s not sure if she can play, but wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had some lessons at the very least. 

They take to the floor. She’s not in a dress, but the trousers suit her. For a moment, they test each other, following the most basic steps. Alastor keeps his hands in a leading position, hands polite. She relaxes when his hands don’t stray. Her steps follow, and she adds a few tricks, shifting her weight so that Alastor is also led around at her suggestion. They swing in sync. Responding to small signals. He might be in control and leading, but she uses her own balance and footwork to suggest a spin or change in direction. He knows what she wants to do without her needing to push him.  It’s hardly a perfect ballroom dance. The basic steps are solid, and the improvisation adds a bit of fun. 

She’s just come out of a rather heavy spin he’d thrown in to see what she’d do when she’s grabbed by another man. It’s not violent. The man yanks her a bit to put her in a spin and steal her for the next dance. Alastor feels a surge of anger brewing within him. All night she’d been alert, but the spin had made her lose perception for a moment. She’d been in his protection. 

Suddenly, she’s no longer following. The man holding her tips and loses his footing, in that gap, she takes control of the momentum. Using her nearly equal height to spin her partner and have him trip over his own feet. In that moment, Alastor notices a wicked and savage smile. Her teeth flashing as she sets her partner on a brutal pace. Like a predator playing with her prey. She leads, and the imbecile can barely catch a breath. He’s stumbling with every beat of the song. She looks elegant, and her partner looks like a fool. When the song ends, the idiot doesn’t stick around. Alastor feels some sort of wariness as he observes her lingering feral smile from a distance. There’s hunger there. A dangerous promise that seems to twist the world. So this was what those men had seen on the street? Terror from looking at the maw of a dangerous beast. A truly savage bear. Her smile is sedate, no teeth when she finds him. “Another dance then? Since we were so rudely interrupted?” 

“Oh? No smile for me, my dear?” He teases, wanting to prompt that toothy warning from her. The woman raises one eyebrow in question. Then laughs softly, a hand rising to cover her mouth from view. “ A lady mustn’t show her fangs to polite company.” She offers her arm to him. “Truly hard to do when you make me smile so much, you know?” “You’re never fully dressed without a smile!” He teases and leads her back to the dance floor. The night is still young, and he’s in good company.

—fin

[youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon]

And a fiction in which Reader is a victim who is stalked by Alastor?

And of course he's going to kill her.

But he won't, because...

you continue.

GIMME YOUR IDEAS.

[homunculus-argument]

Random linguistic worldbuilding: A language with six sets of pronouns, which are set by one's current state of existence. There's a separate pronoun for people who are alive, people who are dead, and potential future people who are yet to be born, and the ambiguous ones of "may or may not be alive or aleady dead", "may or may not have even been born yet", and the ultimate general/ambiguous all-covering one that covers all ambiguous states.

The culture has a specific defined term for that tragic span of time when a widow keeps accidentally referring to their spouse with living pronouns. New parents-to-be dropping the happy surprise news of a pregnancy by referring to their future child with the "is yet to be born" pronoun instead of a more ambiguous one and waiting for the "wait what did you just say?" reactions.

Someone jokingly referring to themselves with the dead person pronouns just to highlight how horrible their current hangover is. A notorious aspiring ladies' man who keeps trying to pursue women in their 20s despite of approaching middle age fails to notice the insult when someone asks him when he's planning to get married, and uses the pronoun that implies that his ideal future bride may not even be born yet.

A mother whose young adult child just moved away from home for the first time, who continues to dramatically refer to their child with "may or may not be already dead" until the aforementioned child replies to her on facebook like "ma stop telling people I'm dead" and having her respond with "well how could I possibly know that when you don't even write to us? >:,C"

[homunculus-argument]

@witchofanguish it is also used in poetry and plays, ghosts talk like that. Imagine being in a folk story, staying overnight in an abandoned cabin and in the middle of the night there's a knock on the door and a bellowing voice going

LET ME IN.

and from the "me" alone you know that whoever is out there is not one among the living.

[rotationalsymmetry]

ok but also: imagine the mysterious stranger implying that they don't know whether they themselves are alive or dead.

Ghost stories where the characters don't know they're ghosts and keep referring to themselves by living pronouns, where the audience doesn't know they're dead for most of the story. Ghosts that signal that they're ready to move on by using I'm-dead pronouns.

[socialistexan]

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

I am not fucking around when I say yes, this person is correct. It is happening again.

[grison-in-space]

They already burned almost the entire NIH Office of Research on Women's Health. That was an entire fucking division, even if it was a small one.

The entire website for the NIH Office of Research on Women's Health (ORWH) is very nearly stripped bare. This is so, so devastating. https:/

And of course there's the sheer volume of the data that has been purged from the CDC's website:

Trump administration purges websites across federal health agencies

Research and basic information on subjects ranging from tuberculosis surveillance to adolescent health disappeared from federal health agenc

in case you were wondering! it is that bad!

[creativepromptsforwriting]

What is...

On every What is Wednesdays I will explain a trope, a rhetorical device, or a literary technique in a few sentences. Put in the comments what you would like me to explain next.

What is... a drabble?

What is... dead dove?

What is... archetypal characters?

What is… deus ex machina?

What is… whump?

What is... plot bunny?

What is... canon vs. fanon?

What is… a headcanon?

What is… a plot hole?

What is… retcon?

What is… WIP?

What is… a sequel hook?

What is… a crossover?

What is… crack?

What is… a rarepair?

What is… a red herring?

What is… fluff?

What is… smut?

What is… OOC?

What is… a missing scene?

What is… Coda?

What is… a trope?

What is… Alpha vs. Beta Reader?

What is… a cliffhanger?

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[jumpingjacktrash]

when i watch old movies i’m constantly surprised by how much acting has improved. not that the acting in the classics is bad, it’s just often kind of artificial? it’s acting-y. it’s like stage acting.

it took some decades for the arts of acting and filmmaking to catch up to the potential that was in movies all along; stuff like microexpressions and silences and eyes, oh man people are SO much better at acting with their eyes than they were in the 40′s, or even the 70′s.

the performances we take for granted in adventure movies and comedies now would’ve blown the critics’ socks off in the days of ‘casablanca’.

[lostsometime]

there’s a weird period in film where you can see the transition happening.  right around the fifties, I think.  the example my prof used when i learned about it was marlon brando in “a streetcar named desire” - he was using stanislavski acting methods and this new hyper-realistic style and most or all of his costars were still using the old, highly-stylized way of acting. it makes it way more obvious how false it is.

[jumpingjacktrash]

i even noticed it in ‘the sting’, which was 1973. i actually think they used it on purpose to get the viewer fished in by the second layer of the con; the grifters at the bookie’s were acting like they were acting, and the grifters playing the feds were acting for reals. if you’re used to setting your suspension of disbelief at the first set’s level, then the second set are gonna blow right past you.

or possibly the guys playing the grifters playing the feds just happened to be using the realistic style for their own reason, and it coincidentally made the plot twist work better. but i like to think it was deliberate.

[jumpingjacktrash]

i was thinking about this again, and when you know what to look for, it’s really obvious: old movies are stage acting, not movie acting. it just didn’t really occur to anyone to make the camera bend to the actors, rather than the other way around. just image search old movie screenshots and clips and gifs, you’ll see it. the way people march up to their mark and stand there, the way they deliver their lines rather than inhabiting the character. the way they’re framed in an unmoving center-stage.

this is a charming little tableau, quirky and unexpected, but it’s a tableau. it lives in a box.

now, i usually watch action movies, and i didn’t think it was fair to compare an action movie with what appears to be an indoor sort of story, but i do watch some comedy tv. so i looked for a brooklyn 99 gif with a similar framing, intending to point out that the camera moves, and the characters aren’t stuck inside the box. but i couldn’t even find the framing. they literally never have all the characters in the same plane, facing the camera, interacting only within the staging area. even when they’re not traveling, they’re moving around, and they treat things outside the ‘stage’ as real and interact with them, even if it’s only to stare in delighted horror.

as for action, it took a while for the movies to figure out what, exactly they wanted to show us, and how to act it. here’s a comedy punch:

here, also, is a comedy punch:

the first one looks like a stage direction written on a script. the second one looks like your friends horsing around and being jerks to each other. the first one is just not believable. the physics doesn’t work. the reaction is fakey. everyone’s stiff. even the movement of the camera is kind of wooden. the second one looks real right down to the cringe of his shoulder, and the camera feels startled too.

i’m not saying this to dis old movies, i’m just fascinated and impressed by how much the art has advanced!

[honey-wine-and-time]

I’m going to bed, but I also want to say that I think, without actually bothering to explore it and make sure, that there’s been a similar shift in comics, probably related to the shift in acting/camera work. And I think you still see remnants of old “stage acting” comics in the three-panel style set ups (you might still see it in long form comics, but you’d probably call it bad composition)

[mudkippey]

Now can someone explain why people in old films talked Like That

[garrettauthor]

Y’all, THAT’S HOW PEOPLE TALKED.

Seriously, I used to work in a sound studio, and one series of projects required us to listen to LOTS of old audio recordings. Not of anything special - just people talking.

AND THEY TALKED LIKE THAT.

It was so fucking wild to hear just a couple of people being like,

“WELL HI THERE JEANINE, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?”

“OH, NOT TOO BAD, JOE, THOUGH MY HUSBAND’S BEEN AWAY ON BUSINESS FOR A FEW WEEKS AND I MISS HIM SOMETHING TERRIBLE.”

“WELL IT’S A HARD THING, JEANINE, BUT YOU’LL GET THROUGH IT.”

“WELL I SUPPOSE I’VE GOT TO, HAVEN’T I JOE?”

All in that piercing, strident, rapid-fire style we associate with the films of the era. If you’ve watched lots of old movies you can imagine the above in that speech pattern.

I don’t know if people talked like that because it was in movies but I suspect it’s the other way around.

[arcadiaego]

Same goes for the UK - When they made the TV series The Hour, set in the 1950s, they had to tell the very well spoken, privately educated Dominic West to tone down his imitation of a 1950s newsreader because being accurate would have sounded to a 2011 TV audience as if he was doing a parody. When you watch Brief Encounter they’re not speaking like that because they can’t act, they’re speaking like that because it was the norm on screen. It now sounds unnatural because it’s not the norm any more.

Obviously there were people with regional accents and who didn’t speak in a heightened manner, but they didn’t get to be on TV or in movies unless they were villains. (And usually the villains were putting it on, like Richard Attenborough in Brighton Rock. Sure, he was Richard Attenborough, but he was brought up in the Midlands, and by the on-screen standards of the time, that was common.)

Even the Queen’s very posh accent has changed over the last 50 years and become “more common" - check out newsreel footage etc for proof - and recordings of her father are almost like someone from a foreign country (well, it is the past).

[tzikeh]

There is, for many film historians/critics, an actual turning point from mannered, theatrical, or “overplayed” acting on screen to naturalistic/American Method realism on screen. It happens in the 1954 movie On the Waterfront, during a traveling shot in which Marlon Brando’s character and Eva Marie Saint’s character are walking together. Eva Marie Saint accidentally drops her glove in the middle of the scene. Marlon Brando instinctively picks it up as his character, and continues the dialog, all the while playing with the glove–turning it about, trying it on, etc. Eva Marie Saint stuck with him, never broke, and the director didn’t call “cut.” 

Before that scene in that movie, if an actor dropped a prop by accident, they would have re-shot the scene–because Brando mostly disappeared out of frame as he bent down to pick up the glove, and (as is explained above) movies were framed to keep the people in the scene in the frame. I

t’s a pretty famous scene in movies because Brando’s character doesn’t give the glove back, but instead uses it to amplify what the two characters are experiencing, naturally and without artifice. It is, for all intents and purposes, the exact moment that screen acting changed.

[niqaeli]

Okay, but here’s the thing about television specifically: given the size of TV screens when they first came out? Stage acting was the only thing that could be READ. Watch Star Trek: TOS on a modern screen and it looks absurdly overacted. Film of the same era is not, and yet the TV is.

And that’s not a fault of the actors; they were all very capable of naturalistic film acting (yes, even Shatner) – as the later movies would bear out. It’s because they were acting for the small screen, not the big one.

Stage acting and stage makeup is what it is because people are far enough away from the stage that you have to cake on the makeup garishly and exaggerate the hell out of your for it to be VISIBLE. And in early television? Yeah, those constraints actually very much applied. You could move the camera, sure, but the quantity of visual information you could send was just damned limited.

[jenniferrpovey]

Here’s another example of that.

Watch some Classic Dr Who. You may or may not notice it without watching for it, but every shot of the TARDIS is taken from the same angle.

The TARDIS was, at that time, a stage set. The camera was behind the fourth (Sixth?) wall. It was fixed. And most TV sets were built like this. They had a specific fourth wall and everything was filmed from that angle.

Fast forward to the new series, and you’ll see that the TARDIS is being filmed from different angles all the time, including following the actor around.

Three things have changed:

1. Cameras have become much smaller.

2. Set building for TV has developed as an art. Those early sets were built by people who were trained to build stage sets.

3. Overall technological improvement resulting in things being cheaper.

The TARDIS set that was just retired? Each of its walls was designed to slide out. So you could put the camera anywhere you wanted. Presumably this is the case with the new one too. They couldn’t imagine doing that back in the day. Nor could they afford the complexities of a set like that.

It’s actually my opinion that TV has very much matured as an art form…this century. This decade. We are doing and seeing things that couldn’t be done ten years ago, twenty. Heck, even five.

[finnglas]

Going back to speech patterns for a moment – I was a young child in the 80s, so my memories of the norms of the time period are limited (especially because I was incredibly sheltered), but the books I read at the time and the popular movies of the time all have this kind of – whimsical, sardonic speech pattern going on. Think John Waters dialogue. 

I always thought it was kind of stylized. But then I ended up in a weird part of YouTube one night and found someone’s home video of just walking aroud a 7-11 convenience store at midnight talking to people in Orlando, Florida. Just trying out their new camcorder for shits and giggles, talking to other customers, talking to the cashier, etc. And you know what? They all talked like a goddamn John Waters movie. It was the weirdest thing, like I was watching outtakes from The Breakfast Club or Say Anything. I expected one of the Cusacks to walk into frame any second.

Anyway, so I think it’s super cool how human speech and interaction shifts over time, and if you’re living through the shift, you don’t really notice it as it happens.

[ms-demeanor]

A) I think you mean John Hughes but I’m very amused by the idea of everyone talking like it’s a John Waters movie

B) This is still happening only now you can pick up people’s net accents. My friends with tumblrs have tumblr diction. My friends who only spend time on facebook for social media sound VERY different. People who use twitter heavily put emphasis on different things and have a different meme literacy (you all know the difference between the way greentext sounds and the way “RIP but I’m different” sounds).

Anyway have fun listening for tumblr accents now

[terulakimban]

What gets me is that I had a medium-strong tumblr accent before I joined tumblr. ( @magikarpjumpest and I have talked about this a few times) The way I break clauses, my stress patterns, hell, I do the Midsentence Emphatic Capitalization in speech. And I think that ties in to why I do the Giant Tumblr Rambles in a way that I just… don’t, on FB. I’m too rambly for twitter, and while I can use ‘tag group dialogue’ as a facebooker, and occasionally will in speech (yes, I code-switch my social media dialect in person; I’m conscious of the fact that I mirror, but it’s not generally a thing I decide to do), that’s not my default setting for phrasing. Established tone/accent conventions of tumblr already correspond somewhat to my natural way of speaking, and it’s much easier to get two forms of dialogue that are already close to merge. It also means that engaging with longposts here is much easier because people are more likely to be using humor and syntax that feels natural to me. Twitter threads have a concision to them. Greentext boards -I can read them, but it’s like reading something with a very heavy transcribed accent that I almost never hear in person -it’s a headache-inducing amount of effort that’s usually not worth it to me for a downtime activity. FB doesn’t do paragraph breaks the same way, and the emoticon usage is different enough that I don’t like dealing with it. 

[yournewapartment]

This is a wild read from start to finish!!

[prismatic-bell]

Having lived through early Web 2.0, I can tell you that “accents through time” also applies to internet “accents.”

You know how people now will end sentences with “Lol” to indicate they’re not mad (e.g. “I have to go now lol, Mom’s home”)? Yeah, we didn’t used to do that. We also used to have a sarcasm tag! I’m going to apologize to the people with screen readers and tell you I promise this is reasonably short. It looked like this:

“Yeah, well, Obama is a ~*~*~Muslim.~*~*~

The asterisk action tags used to be a non-ironic, non-cringey thing, too. Like this:

“NINA GUESS WHAT”

“What??? :D”

“(Typing notification)”

“*waits*”

The term “teal deer” to replace “TL;dr” was a thing. And, of course, in the early 2000s you had 13375p34k, which for younger folks was “leetspeak.” One is the Homestuck characters uses it, but it’s not just a quirk—people really talked like that.

We are far enough into the internet era that even internet accents have changed.

[the-daringstars]

Lucifer found the perfect way to welcome Vaggie to the family- matching ducks!

[godbirdart]

so my apartment building got a notice board to post fire alarm tests and maintenance announcements and such. the building is pretty well-maintained, so we rarely get notices. the board is big and grey and to think it would be empty like that 99% of the time was a bland boring sin i just couldn't bear, so i vandalized the corner of its empty canvas with a teeny tiny Guy

and within a few days, there was a sudden addition from my one of my neighbors along with a Bunch of thumbtacks. this was an unexpected, but welcome surprise!

well there was still so much space, i figured i'd add another crumb to the art hoard. i'd been playing genshin that day so i drew my favorite grandpa

and like clockwork, new art manifested!! this person is gonna grow to be a great artist i know it. the detail in those stones? hell yeah that's cool.

we're two weeks into it. more neighbors have joined in with their artwork. who knew there were so many artists in my building?? we're onto somethin great here i just know it.

[godbirdart]

update: ONE OF MY NEIGHBORS DREW VENTI TO GO WITH MY GENSHIN GRANDPA I'M —

WHO DID THIS

[godbirdart]

i am retaliating i NEED to know who did this

[godbirdart]

JOJO HAS ENTERED THE CHAT

[knitmeapony]

This is what 'living in a community' is supposed to mean

[hamletthedane]

Want to learn something new in 2022??

Absolute beginner adult ballet series (fabulous beginning teacher)

40 piano lessons for beginners (some of the best explanations for piano I’ve ever seen)

Excellent basic crochet video series

Basic knitting (probably the best how to knit video out there)

Pre-Free Figure Skate Levels A-D guides and practice activities (each video builds up with exercises to the actual moves!)

How to draw character faces video (very funny, surprisingly instructive?)

Another drawing character faces video

Literally my favorite art pose hack

Tutorial of how to make a whole ass Stardew Valley esque farming game in Gamemaker Studios 2??

Introduction to flying small aircrafts

French/Dutch/Fishtail braiding

Playing the guitar for beginners (well paced and excellent instructor)

Playing the violin for beginners (really good practical tips mixed in)

Color theory in digital art (not of the children’s hospital variety)

Retake classes you hated but now there’s zero stakes:

Calculus 1 (full semester class)

Learn basic statistics (free textbook)

Introduction to college physics (free textbook)

Introduction to accounting (free textbook)

Learn a language:

Ancient Greek

Latin

Spanish

German

Japanese (grammar guide) (for dummies)

French

Russian (pretty good cyrillic guide!)

[hamletthedane]

Want to learn something new in 2023??

Cooking with flavor bootcamp (used what I learned in this a LOT this year)

Beekeeping 101

Learn Interior Design from the British Academy of Interior Design (free to audit course - just choose the free option when you register)

Video on learning to read music that actually helped me??

How to use and sew with a sewing machine

How to ride a bike (listen. some of us never learned, and that's okay.)

How to cornrow-braid hair (I have it on good authority that this video is a godsend for doing your baby niece's black hair)

Making mead at home (I actually did this last summer and it was SO good)

How to garden

Basics of snowboarding (proceed with caution)

How to draw for people who (think they) suck at art (I know this website looks like a 2003 monstrosity, but the tutorials are excellent)

Pixel art for beginners so you can make the next great indie game

Go (back) to school

Introduction to Astronomy (high school course - free textbook w/ practice problems)

Principals of Economics (high school course - free textbook w/ practice problems)

Introduction to philosophy (free college course)

Computer science basics (full-semester Harvard course free online)

Learn a language

Japanese for Dummies (link fix from 2022)

Ukrainian

Portuguese (Brazil)

American Sign Language (as somebody who works with Deaf people professionally, I also strongly advise you to read up on Deaf/HoH culture and history!)

Chinese (Mandarin, Simplified)

Quenya (LOTR fantasy elf language)

[hamletthedane]

Want to learn something new in 2024??

Beginner-oriented video on how to sail

This guy has so many videos on baking different types of bread. SO very many.

Coding in Python - one of the most flexible and adaptable high-level programming languages out there - explained through projects making video games

Learn to swim! (for adult learners. I don’t care if you live in Kansas or Mali or wherever. LEARN TO SWIM.)

Learn how quantum mechanics works. Then read some more about it

[Learn about quantum mechanics again, but in a more advanced engineering/mathematics class. Then read more about the math and physics of it]

Poetry Handbook, by Mary Oliver

Something I learned this year: how to sew a quilt (Here’s a very easy beginning pattern that looks amazing and can be done with pre-cut fabric!)

How to hit the ball in softball

Tutorial video on what is under the hood of most (gas) cars + weird engine sounds and what they mean

Full beginner mechanics technical training, if you want to go more in depth

Playlist on how car engine physics work if you want to go ultra in depth

Lecture series on architecture design through study of buildings

How (American income) taxes & tax law work (choose “audit course” at checkout for free class)

Pickleball for beginners (so you can finally join your neighbor/friend/distant cousin who is always insisting you join their team)

+ Para-Pickleball for beginners (for mobility aid users!)

School is so much more fun when there’s no tests:

American Law - Contracts

Shakespeare’s Life and Plays

Fairy Tales: Meanings, Messages, and Morals

Modern Poetry

World History [Part 1, Part 2]

Learn a language:

Arabic + Resource Guide compiled from Reddit (includes info on different dialects)

Chinese (Cantonese) (audio)

Urdu (frequently recommended course on Reddit) + Resource Guide

Yucatec Maya

[argumate]

where are those startups that are disrupting the glasses industry

[ms-demeanor]

zenni and it’s amazing and i love it 40 dollar bifocals fuck yeah

[ms-demeanor]

Hey I’m reblogging this again because if you need glasses here’s what I do:

Go to Costco/Sams Club/WalMart - wherever they’ve got that $58 eye exam. That’s with no insurance, btw. Just $58 cash on the counter, you get your eyes examined.

They’ll give you a copy of your prescription. ASK THE DOCTOR TO MEASURE YOUR PUPIL DISTANCE. If they don’t it’s not a huge deal, you just have to have a ruler around that has millimeters so you can measure it yourself and it won’t be as accurate but being off by as much as a centimeter isn’t a problem.

Make them give you a copy of your prescription - you are allowed to have this, they have to give you it, you don’t have to buy glasses there. If anyone challenges you say you need a copy for your records and you’re not going to buy glasses today.

Go to https://www.zennioptical.com/ and start looking at frames/glasses that you like. If you create an account it’ll let you upload a photo and based on your pupil distance the site will estimate how well various frames will fit you.

Add the frames you like to cart and start checking out - the checkout process will ask you for your RX details that will be written in the boxes on your RX page. It’s pretty intuitive to copy it over but if you get lost use the livechat feature on the zenni page.

Start selecting your glasses details. Your RX will determine what kind of lens you get (go with the one zenni recommends for materials and thickness) but your needs will determine the other stuff. I make sure to get the fancy oleophobic coating because I’m a slimy bog monster. I also get the cheapest pair of sunglasses possible because bog monsters hate the sun. You can get transitions lenses or anti-scratch coating or super lightweight lenses or whatever works best for you. The extras will add up in cost but you gotta do what you gotta do - my life is much better with a pair of sunglasses than it is with some clip-ons for my regular glasses; your life may be better with transitions lenses instead of carrying a second set of glasses. DO WHAT WORKS BEST FOR YOU.

Don’t bother paying the rush shipping, this is going to take two weeks regardless.

GLASSES ARRIVE. WEAR GLASSES.

If the fit isn’t perfect see if the place that did your eye exam will adjust the fit for you. They often will free of charge.

GLASSES. GLASSES. I CAN SEE.

PROGRESSIVE BIFOCALS THAT COST $40 WITH CUTE FRAMES AND NICE COATING.

SUNGLASSES.

FUCK

It costs less for me to get two pairs of bifocals, one tinted and one clear, with special coatings and nice frames than it would cost me to get one pair of single-vision glasses from Warby Parker.

The cheapest frames available for adults on Lenscrafter’s site is $69.95. That is JUST the frames, not the lenses. The lenses are like $200. The anti-glare coating is like $70. THE ANTI GLARE COATING IS FREE AND INCLUDED WITH YOUR PURCHASE AT ZENNI. Just the frames and the coating at lenscrafters costs more than my two pairs of glasses AND my eye exam.

I can’t articulate how many literal headaches Zenni has saved me because I just used to wear my old prescription until I had trouble keeping my eyes open from the strain. Now at the first hint of eye strain it’s like “Not today, Satan!” and I can plan for the $100 expense that’s going to last me potentially years.

[boxingcleverrr]

Obligatory reminder that a ton of people have added but still, Zenni and other likewise sites (1-800-Contacts) require the prescription be up to date within a year. So yeah plan that in, any time you shop, that script has to be from within the last year. 

[absentlyabbie]

I would also like to submit glassesshop.com because, though I shopped Zenni exclusively from 2012-2017, in the last six months I have gotten four pairs of glasses from GlassesShop, and still paid less than a hundred dollars.

The key difference for me was that while Zenni was utterly eye opening (ha, eye pun), they rarely do sales, and GlassesShop is constantly rolling through a variety of sales. There is almost always a wide selection of glasses on Buy One Get One Free promotion, and the free pair includes the lenses, no matter what add ons are on there or whatever kinda prescription you got, as long as its the less expensive pair. 

They also do weekly specials where rotating selections of frames go on clearance-rate pricing, from $6.95-12.95. This is just the tip of the iceberg of the constant variety of sales, promotions, and discounts they offer, and doesn’t include that, also unlike Zenni, if you have an account every purcahse you make accrues points which can be applied in dollar amount to future purchases, even with discounts/sales/promos also applied.

Like Zenni, GlassesShop lets you upload a selfie to “try on” frames you’re interested in, but they have a much wider selection and variety. They take about the same amount of time as Zenni to craft and ship your glasses, and they’re on par as far as quality and accuracy of prescription goes.

I will always be grateful to Zenni for opening the door for me on the online glasses market, because as someone netting less than 20k a year after taxes glasses used to be a “upon pain of death/causing a car accident from blindness” purchase but have become a “well that’s a great sale and I LOVE those frames… I guess I could do with another pair of glasses, there’s $30-50 in my budget!” kind of thing, and that’s incredible.

But I probably won’t be switching back, as after having made multiple purchases, the only thing I like better about Zenni compared to GlassesShop is Zenni has better cleaning cloths.

Regardless, they’re two excellent, amazingly affordable alternatives to spending minimum of $100 at a brick and mortar glasses store, and I’ve turned into something of a proselytizer for both, because people deserve to know they have these options.

It’s bad enough we’re out here paying to see, but too many of us don’t realize we could be paying a lot less to see, and in the cutest glasses best suited to our tastes, instead of whatever’s “cheap” at WalMart.

[oncewild]

also gonna throw out eyebuydirect, which does some great sales. I’ve gotten prescription glasses as cheap as $6 and prescription sunglasses for $20.

[prairietopdx]

Ordered from both Zenni and Eyebuydirect before and a great experience every time. I just bought two new pairs from Eyebuydirect. I upgraded to their blue filtering lenses (didn’t expect a huge difference but woah, it was definitely worth the upgrade) and with the sale going on, I paid less than $60.

[pleasedotheneedful]

eyebuydirect is legit

though I still remember the chuckle I got when that resident asked if I had warby parkers and I told him where they really came from

[thecatsmayo]

firmoo is nice too

[dollsahoy]

Reblogging for glassesshop and firmoo–those’re new to me.  I’ve been really happy with EyeBuyDirect, especially when they have sales, and Goggles4U isn’t too bad (I haven’t liked the glasses I’ve gotten from Zenni, but obviously experiences vary.)

[frameacloud]

Image description: A screenshot of the main page of the GlassesShop.com web site. Description ends.

[absentlyabbie]

always nice to be ambushed in roundabout reblog circuits by your own comments from five years ago.

anyways, i did switch back to zenni. had a few small quality disappointments with glassesshop, nothing major, but the big draw back to zenni was that they further expanded their frames variety and–biggest “ooh yes please”–they made a change to their price listing.

when you go on zenni these days and browse their glasses frames, the price you see is the entire price–frames and basic, no-bells-no-whistles prescription lenses. and adding the bells and whistles still doesn’t send the price stratospheric.

zenni still doesn’t do sales as often, but they do seem to do them more often now. added bonus, after all the pairs of glasses i’ve purchased from the, i’ve only ever once had any quality issues that weren’t me miscalculating my own pupilary distance–last month, when my second/backup pair arrived with a snap in the lens frame.

and you know what happened? i got on the app, at midnight, checked about how to do a return, ended up in a chat with a real live human person within minutes, submitted a picture of the pair that arrived broken as requested, and was instantly told they would remake, no charge, no return necessary.

the fixed pair is in my possession and hanging out waiting to be a backup pair as intended. really gotta hand it to them, they do shit right.