#i feel like im rusty

[wonwooridul]

JUN HUI for Nylon China (2023)

[pinyatapix]

how i imagine Minecraft Alex's personality to be like vs how i imagine Minecraft Steve's personality. duality of minecraft

[sugoi-writes]

Can I get some fluff of Alastor finding reader listening to old jazz songs from when he was alive and he makes us dance with him? :)

It's Been a While... (Alastor x GN! Reader)

Ahaha, I need more work on fluff, I hope you like it! There is SOME mentions of risque activites, but it's super brief, and nothing insanely explicit! Promise! I was honestly just writing to write, and figured this little blurb that fell out of me would be fitting enough. UNO REVERSE... We get ALASTOR to dance! Fuck yes!!!

Songs mentioned: In The Mood - Glenn Miller / Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman (both are bops I used to play when I was in jazz band houhosjknskhdj-- SURPRISE, you also get Danny Lore as a treato!)

Alastor's tense, heavy sigh sounds in the air, prompting you to crane your head up. You took in his disheveled state and instantly knew: he was exhausted. You stood from your plush armchair, abandoning it to walk toward his desk. 

"Alastor?" was all that was needed for his flattened ears to perk up. Your sweet voice was a much needed comfort during a particularly grueling evening. 

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, his smile hardly an upturned slit. You come up behind him slowly, waiting for his permission to touch. Alastor looks back to your hovering hands, and nods gingerly. He returns to facing his desk, allowing his eyes to lose focus as he zones out. When your arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders slump heavily, a pleased hum vibrating his chest. You smiled sweetly at the sound, a welcome pleasantry as you kissed his cheek. 

"You're getting frustrated again, my love..." you pipe up, continuing to pepper his cheek with chaste, innocent kisses. Your lover laughs bitterly, but leans into your musings all the same. 

"Well, I suppose you're right... leave it to my sweet, observant partner to know what's wrong... and when," he adds, a tired hand reaching up to rub slow circles into one of your arms. You grin against his cheek, your kisses slowing," I may also have a solution to your problem, if you'll hear me out~" 

Alastor hums in approval, grasping both of your hands when you continue to pamper him with sweet, physical adoration. 

"Dear, you are nothing if not full of brilliant ideas... I would love to hear them out," he muses, turning his head to plant a singular, sincere kiss to your lips. You were giddy at the affection, but capped your glee.  You tugged on his hands, eager to make your little plan work.

"Come on, come on... you'll have to get up for this one," you quip, forcing a dramatic sigh from your partner. Alastor throws his head back, laying it on your shoulder like an ill peasant woman. He would fan his face weakly, had your hands not been so warm.  

"My love, I have been stricken, and cannot get up~ Won't you let an old man rest?" he fired back. But truly, had you asked: he would happily jump into acid rain with nothing more than his dignity.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, smirking," You? Old? I wouldn't figure... No, you old geezer, I need you to stand so we can use your legs. They're very important for what I want to do." Alastor blinked, gears turning in his mind. Only with you would his mind wander to dirtier, carnal ideas. 

"Dear, if I had wanted to do that tonight, I'm afraid your back would've already been bent out of shape--" 

"Oh for Fucks Sake, Alastor--" you cackled, tugging on him with more insistence. 

" Come oooonnnnn, please~? It's one of your favorites, I promise! Nothing dirty, no tricks!" Alastor's interest is instantly piqued, resulting in an immediate hop up. Even with his motion, his hands were still in yours. You huff, exacerbated but grateful you didn’t have to lift him yourself. 

"Ahh, if you would have led with that, I may've been more urgent to attend to you, dear," Alastor chuckles, not missing the flush that flashed across your cheeks. You pull away from Alastor long enough to turn on the radio, flicking through several frequencies and stations to find just the right channel. Alastor watches you in amusement, arms crossing in front of his chest. He was more than content to watch you struggle, shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Well, I have to keep some of the suspense, don't I?" you replied, grinning at him in a way that made Alastor's black heart beat wildly. He did quite enjoy your mischievous nature... But your attempts to work his radio almost had him pitying you... Almost. 

He scooted in behind you, resting his crossed arms over the top of your head," You could request a song, you know... I don't mind putting on something you enjoy--" 

"I'd rather it be something we’d both enjoy," you interject, huffing as you became an armrest for your demonic partner. Once you found the right channel, you swiveled under Alastor's arms to face him. Then, you reach up to hold his elbows, shaking them around playfully. 

"Alright, sir... It's been a long, long time since we've done this... I want to do this properly." 

Alastor relents, allowing you to push his arms off of your head. He tilts his own toward you, expressing confusion. In that moment, he finally hones in on the song itself. In The Mood, popularized and recorded by Glenn Miller. It was one of the few songs that came to mind when you thought of "Alastor's Time" in the 30s. Said demon blinks in surprise, grinning. He had listened to this recording a bit after coming to hell, and was particularly fond of it. Ahh, you had picked the perfect station! 

"Glenn Miller? Oh, you spoil me, love," Alastor coos, caressing your face as he kisses your forehead," Whatever did I do to deserve this?" 

You sway your hips, bouncing in place to the tempo with the old tune," I know the recording's after your time... but-- He's just-- GOOD, y'know?" You bite your lip as you pull Alastor's hands off of your face," Now come on, Al... let's dance!" What a perfect distraction to break his tension and troubled mind! Alastor just knew he would enjoy your little idea... 

His hands settle on you, both lightly caging your hips as yours held onto his wide shoulders. As the main motif began, the both of you started bopping along to the music. You watched Alastor's face morph fully into a relaxed state; smile still present, but much softer than his manic glee. You had to use every fiber in your being not to kiss him in that instant, instead squeezing his shoulders. Alastor's ears twitch as you draw soothing circles into his tense muscles, a shudder being torn from his entire frame. 

"Relax, Alastor... I want you to forget about everything, except for this...," you coo, making him sigh with acceptance. He came close to you, flushing your bodies together in a tight, intimate sway. You could only sigh as he settled his chin onto the top of your head. 

"Oh darling, if I relaxed anymore, I would be putty in your hands...," Alastor chimes, the tail end of his sentence wandering off as you press harder. Alastor huffs pleasantly, his hands holding your hips more firmly," Sweetheart, you really will be my undoing..." 

You chuckle as you settle your hands, allowing Alastor a moment of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders, one hand seeking to grasp your opposite hand. Once he drew your arm out with his, his other hand shifted to the small of your back. You saw him grinning, playful and energetic," If it's a dance you want, then it had better be a good one, hmm? So let's jive~" 

You squealed as Alastor practically whisked you off of your feet, spinning the both of you elegantly around his bedroom. The sounds of cicadas and frogs croaking in the distant, swampy marsh of his extended bedroom accompanied the sweet jazz that filled the air. Truly, it was tying everything together seamlessly. You had it all: a nice scene, nice music, and a relaxed, precious beau to spend all night with. You would have patted yourself on the back, were it not for Alastor's telltale sign of a 'big dip' move. You looped both arms around his neck, hanging on as Alastor swung you down, his monocle threatening to slip off his face. You laughed as you casually adjusted it. You stared, enthralled as you lay your hand over his racing pulse. However, the moment didn’t last long before you were brought back to your feet. But you thought now would be the best time to be a bit closer…

Getting bolder now, you pulled Alastor in for a kiss via his bowtie, eager to finish the dance off strong. Alastor, of course, had no protests, as he looped his arms around your waist. The two of you embraced like this for what felt like an hour, unable to pull apart your mingling, eager lips. But, with the song ended, leaving you both in silence, you managed to pull away. You looked up to Alastor with knowing eyes, your smile reflected in his deep, red irises.

"I loved that, Alastor, thank you... And I hope you don't mind me whisking you away from work..." 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, an imitation of your look from earlier. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his lips still puffy from your kiss," My love, you must whisk me away more often... In fact, I think I'd like another dance, if you'll join me?" Of course, you agreed silently, stepping on to the very tips of your toes to seal it with a kiss. 

"I'd love nothing more." 

Alastor grins with a deep chuckle, the radio pumping out a new song. Sing, Sing, Sing, popularized by Benny Goodman. You blink in surprise as this number moves... MUCH faster. And, from the sound of it, it will get you to sweat. You laughed nervously as Alastor brought you in again, his hand directing your hips to sway with his. You couldn’t help but become a little flustered as he closed the gap between your bodies, a playful, coy smile sent your way. 

"Hold on tight, love. Some recordings of this song could last up to ten minutes~" 

"WHAT--" 

Alastor practically cackled as you trapped yourself within a saucy dance, one of many that would fill your evening with sweat, laughter, and best of all: an Alastor whose smile finally reached his eyes. 

[craqueluring]

NBC's Hannibal, The Wrath of the Lamb 3x13 / Poppy Z. Brite, Exquisite Corpse

"You are alone, because you are unique" "I'm as alone as you are"

[nanite-city]

some trolls character studies and my sona Mars :3

[slavhew]

modern family

[gen-0]

“His eyes softened” pt2

Pt 1 here

[tizzymcwizzy]

had a good drawing day today :)

[salt-n-salt]

I hope you’re still doing this, my non-binary and very buff farmer loves their househusband Sebastian 💜💜

VERY BUFF YOU SAY …. steeples my fingers … summons my henchmen … how buff can we go without causing a scene, boys 👩‍💼

[plasma-packin-mama]

I was actually already drawing harry on skates when I got this comment from @its-a-humanriot …so I went and threw in Kim Judit and Jean. Precinct 41 Team Building Night at the roller disco!!

Bonus sketchbook page:

I think Judit would be most enthusiastic to participate, she’d dress accordingly (if only to humor Harry). Jean is still in his work clothes. Kim… Kim if you can hear me I’m sorry I drew you in hot pants and a crop top…….. the spirit of scantily clad 70s athletes compelled me…. I considered redoing it to give him a regular undershirt bc it felt marginally more in character but then I remembered I don’t care and also look at him belly.

[cloudcountry]

stumbling back to ramshackle, you let out a sigh in relief. you wanted nothing more than to collapse in your bed after a long and exhausting day dealing with people.

"huh?" your eyes caught a small white object laying neatly on the rug. approaching the dorm's porch, you noticed it was an envelope, sealed with lavender and silver wax in the shape of a sea shell. a telltale sign that someone from octavinelle had sent this envelope to you. but who?

you flipped it over, seeing your name written in a rather familiar style of messy cursive, which still confuses you until now, surrounded by little hearts and a cute little '1 year anniversary!!' right above. and the sender's identity being...

"Floyd?"

HI HI AUBBIEEE!! CONGRATS ON 2.5K U AMAZING PERSON :DD

u don't have to do this rq if u don't feel like it! :C i hope u have fun with your event!! ALSO REMEMBER TO HYDRATE AND TAKE ALL THE TIME U NEED TO DE-STRESS, LOVE U LOTS <33333

morning shrimpy! you know what day it is, don’t you? if you forgot i’m going to squeeze you. i’m serious.

i waited for you to come to my dorm and you never did :(( if you don’t show up within the next few hours  i’m going to hunt you down, so you’d better start running. that wouldn’t be a bad way to start our anniversary, eh? it’d be fun to chase you down while you’re all scared.

anyway, azul is making me work this evening again but i’m just not gonna do what he tells me. it’s not fair that i have to work when today is special. i bet you’d feel the same.

crowley made you run around a lot today, i can already tell. was it grim? you know i’ll squeeze him if you’re too tired. maybe i’ll save the hunting you down for another day...thinking about you in a bad mood put me in one. i don’t feel like it anymore.

i’m coming to ramshackle.

floyd leech.

[sea-buns]

The abundance of names in TMA and my piss-poor memory means that I have a hard time remembering highly specific spoilers. It's great for some that I've only seen vaguely mentioned since I'm not waiting to finish the series before browsing ao3

But it does mean that I feel so uneasy while listening to episode 80 cuz I can't quite remember who it is that Elias fucking brains and so far I kinda like Jurgen Leitner

[sugoi-writes]

This is Not a Love Story, This is an Autopsy - Part 1

A/N- PHEW! I wanted to kick out of my hiatus with something I've been itching to do... An original series! I wasn't quiet happy with some of my longer works (and trust, they will probably be rewritten, too). So, this is the start of something new! Something that'll be fresh!

I've been heavily inspired/influenced by @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes, who keep encouraging me to just... do it. So I'm doing it!

BEFORE you get too invested, this story WILL be dark. It will be GOREY, graphic at times, there will be filthy, raunchy smut... But this is gonna be a LOT of hurt, with VERY LITTLE comfort. Alastor will NOT be a kind man. The title should be taken seriously, if you wish to continue. BUT FOR NOW... PHEW... sorry, here's part one!!!

Warnings/Promises: Mystery murder woman, Alastor is intrigued, a poor demon suddenly doesn't have a face, cursing, banter, Mystery woman wants to kill Alastor, and Alastor doesn't have GREAT intentions either... Just-- Alastor being ALASTOR! (Mystery woman is referred to in 3rd person, but this may change! Not sure yet)

Please enjoy! ❤️ Header image created by bat-boness on Tumblr! ❤️

Alastor's evening stroll simulated any other: pleasantries exchanged with himself, and his dainty, dated tunes filling the air. This served as a chipper contrast to his surroundings of hurried footsteps, startled shrieks, and the general cacophony on this side of The Pentagram. Oh, tonight was certainly a good night! ...But it was about to get so much better.

The sound of wet squelching, akin to a crushed watermelon, caught his attention. His deer-like ears twisted in it's direction, his smile expanding. What a curious sound! One he was aptly familiar with! It could only be one thing...

Gurgling, disjointed cries and the sputtering of fluids sounded like a grotesque melody. Alastor could hear steady, heavy breathing keeping the tempo. An act of passion... well, in the killing sense, surely. Ever the curious sort, Alastor sent his shadow to investigate. Its wide eyes take in the sight of the alleyway expectantly, eager to witness the fuss first.

A large figure loomed over a hapless victim, the arms flinching and trembling subconsciously as the attacker worked diligently. The sounds from before had morphed into a gut wrenching cutting noise: the unmistakable sound of a sharp knife carving through flesh... but where?

The shadow blinked, inching closer to the scene to get a better look. However, the attacker flinched, turning towards the apparation with a speed that would snap the neck of a human. It was spotted.

In the blink of an eye, a knife came off of a thigh garter belt, hurdling full force towards the Shadow. The knife struck between the entity’s eyes, a heated hiss thrown back to the stranger. Alastor's obedient pet slinked back to its master, unable to give a more helpful report. Alastor hummed in amusement, taking two wide strides to his right. Now, he was stationed at the mouth of the alley, his teeth gleaming under the dim streetlight.

"Do forgive me, dear, I am not known to eavesdrop," a lie, Alastor thought," But I couldn't help but overhear a scuffle~ What did that poor beau do to deserve such fury?"

Alastor wanted to be nearer, to see what you had done to the now-corpse of the demon... but alas, he couldn't just yet. Even with the back facing him, the Radio Demon got a better glimpse at the disheveled stranger.

A large, wide shoulder span dipped in and flowed back out in a delightful curve: a tasteful hourglass shape. Brunette and blonde hair cascaded just past the shoulders, spattered with blood… that was even more tasteful. Judging from the spray's pattern, this blood came from somewhere else… or someone else, in this case. The broad shoulders led to muscular, intense looking arms. The limbs were so red that it seemed they were dipped in a vat of coagulated blood. He could scarcely see the little nicks and scars that littered the taunt skin.

When Alastor continued to walk forward, a sharp turn of the head greeted him. Startling, grey eyes with bloodshot whites glared back at him. The figure didn't answer him, staring him down with a look that could frighten a dictator. Blonde and brunette fringe framed the face, a soft contrast to the rest of the body. Full, flushed cheeks from exertion, complimented by wide eyes and a set of thick, heavy lashes. And, dozens of shallow, silver-white scars littering the pale, plump face. Alastor's eyebrows rose with interest, the silence only motivating him to get closer.

The figure growled, snarling like a caged animal as it turned fully towards him... a woman, he assumed. This woman had blood sprayed across her entire upper body, indicating that this was indeed a passionate act of murder.

Alastor ceased his advances, both hands coming up in mock-surrender.

"Oh come now, dear, I mean no harm... 'just curious~ Won't you humor a demon for a spell? You might just hear your little story on my broadcast tonight~" he nearly sang, eyes squinting and watching carefully. He could tell that this beast of a woman was on high alert, and would likely try and jump him if he so much as thought the wrong word. Though he was confident in his abilities to defend himself, he was no bodybuilder: a fisty cuff that got too heated could mean his second death.

The woman’s gaze remained unphased as she came to her feet. Then, it morphed into a look of recognition.

While the mystery woman realized who was speaking to her, Alastor discovered what she had been carving off of the victim: his face. Alastor watched with an irrational sense of delight as the heavily scarred woman faced him properly. He couldn't help but shift his eyes to the scalped face of the victim, feeling his hands ball up into eager fists behind his back.

The cadaver’s face was grasped in the brunette’s calloused, large hands, blood sliding through her knuckles like a babbling creak in the woods. Had he been a sane man, he would have found the image unsightly. But between his fall from grace and his afterlife of trouble… he found the sight utterly delicious.

Alastor swallowed something in his throat... nerves? Excitement? A mutual interest between strangers? What an evening to find a like-minded individual…

"...You're the Radio Demon..." the murderer said simply. Her voice was a hard, uneven gravel, as if she hardly spoke at all. Alastor's smile widened, giddy at the budding interaction.

"Ahh, my reputation precedes me~ But you can call me Alastor, sweetheart. And what may I call you, hmm?" The tone of his sing-song charm did not match the cannibalistic mania of his too-wide smile. His voice was the cheese, nestled inside an obvious mousetrap.

Alastor stepped even closer, extending a hand out to the rabid-looking woman. Her steely eyes looked to his hand, before back to his face. Her expression remained unchanged.

"...I don't do handshakes," she replied bluntly, her gaze burrowing holes into Alastor's complexion. She seemed to watch him just as intently, acutely aware of his dark aura. Her words sought to disguise her own intrigue.

"Ahh, apologies, dear-- Deeeaaaar...?"

Alastor raised a brow while he drew out the last word, eye twitching with annoyance. He cocked his head slightly as he leaned in, trying to goad her into a response. He expected a name sometime tonight. A name... just a name. If he had her name, he could work with that. Just let him get under that barrier, even if it's just a crack--

"I don't have one," the woman spat back, either uninterested or able to see through Alastor’s antics (of which, the Radio Demon wasn't sure).

A record scratch leaked through his frequency at the abrupt response. The curtness throttled his already thinking patience... Alastor's wide smile stammered for a moment, a tense chuckle bleeding through his clenched jaw. His fuzzy and sound-dampened amusement was practically oozing irritation...

Likewise, the tension that hung between the pair was far too thick.

This needed to be carved through with a knife, Alastor thought. He could still do this.

"Nonsense dear! Why, EVERYONE has a name!!! Surely there is something that people use to call you? To refer to you???" Alastor was a bit surprised by his own persistence. Why did her lack of name manage to throttle him?

...right. He found her fascinating, that's all. And fascinating people in Hell were often easy to exploit... easy to force into a deal. And by extension, she would be useful and entertaining.

"...people usually don't get the chance to talk to me," the brunette replied. Her stoney, hardened face slowly shifted into a sly smile. She chortled wickedly, licking her cracked lips,"...but they usually beg for their lives right about now."

Her sudden lunge surprises Alastor momentarily, before his pitch tendrils snap into action. The mad woman is caught and suspended mid-launch, a heavy tentacle struggling to keep her knife-wielding arm in check. Alastor clicks his tongue mockingly at her aggression. Back to square one, it seemed. What a simple creature!

"Ohh dear, is that a way to talk to someone? If you plan to stab me, at least offer to take me on a stroll first. Perhaps to a coffee shop?" The deranged woman's mouth was tightly pulled into a horrifying snarl, teeth bared and glistening with spit. Had she contracted rabies? Or was she still riding the feral high of a fresh kill? Neither option seemed to startle or surprise Alastor all that much.

He paid her no mind as he walked around her in a slow, teasing circle: like a predator circling helpless prey. But the woman grunted and struggled just the same, hair falling into her face as she tried to break free. The noises she made had shivers of pride running up Alastor's spine. This interest almost seemed... more than that. More than morbid curiosity… He shook the thought away from his mind, his cheeks burning from how harshly he forced himself to smile.

Alastor stepped within striking distance, another tentacle wrapping around the knife-wielding hand as he looked at her troubled face.

"G-Go-- nnnhhhfucker-- Go fuck yourself, freak," the woman hissed, spitting towards the Radio Demon. He simply tilted his head, the spittle missing his pristine cheek. Annoying and gauche... he would have to break her of that garish habit.

"I'm afraid carnal desires haven't interested me for quite some time. Well... past the one you dabbled with moments ago. I must say I'm mighty interested in your handywork~"

Alastor's taloned hand squished the cheeks of the captured woman, turning her face this way and that. Alastor was smirking with an air of superiority as he took in every imperfection and scar that maimed her round face... To him, she was breathtaking, each scar revealing an incident or story he would be familiar with. He felt interested in dissecting her, and figuring out just what or who caused the nicks and cuts.

Thankfully, his brush with murder and other crimes made breaking down her injuries a breeze. Most of them could be summarized as self defense marks left by a weaker victim. This woman was STRONG... There was no question about that. And she wasn't afraid of getting dirty to get her desires fulfilled. He could find that quality to be quite charming... quite useful.

"If you truly do not have a name... might I suggest one?"

The question puzzles the brunette, eyes blinking in rapid succession. It took her a few moments to process the offer.

"You... want to name me?" She retorted, her squished face distorting her bewilderment," Like some goddamn PET?"

"I’m simply offering you one, dear. No need to make a fuss. Perhaps you could find it helpful, should you ever need to be referred to more... directly. With familiarity. You needn't take it, if it displeases you."

Alastor sighed dramatically as the woman thrashed in anger, shaking his head in tandem. It was quite easy to backtrack with this one, wasn’t it?

The woman stared back at the Radio Demon, intense grey embracing hellish red in a heated standoff. One could kill the other in a heartbeat, their acts only halted by straining tentacles. They were in a tense ceasefire, if only for their own sakes.

The woman sighed, relenting after what felt like an eternity," If it causes you to let go of me... you may give me a name, Radio Demon."

"Alastor," the male corrected, pinching her cheeks with harsher intent. The woman winced, but nodded curtly," A-Alastor..."

The venom that oozed from her harsh tone made molten heat fill Alastor’s chest. She could be obedient… how interesting.

The deer demon sneered, face reflecting his earlier delight as his eyes briefly flickered. The name rolled off her tongue so easily... Oh, he liked seeing her like this. Another charming quality he could get used to… and take use of.

"Carver."

The woman blinked, scoffing," Really?"

"Yes. Carver. You could always go by 'The Carver', if you wished, but I rather think the name suits you... a little on the nose, maybe, but simple. Just like you." Alastor's thumb rubs over the woman's cheek, a claw dangerously close to gouging her eye out. The demoness’ face softens, the touch causing conflicting feelings to flit across it.

Fright, anger, surprise, and… yearning. Had Alastor not been observant and experienced with reading people, he might have missed a few of these. Hell, the micro expressions lasted for seconds, if that… But thankfully, his eyes were as sharp as the blade hovering above his head.

Alastor’s hand pauses on her flushed cheek, stashing the useful information in the recesses of his dark mind.

"...fine... That name is fine, Alastor."

Carver fell to the dank and rancid ground with a heavy thud, Alastor clasping his hands together resolutely. Tentacles were dismissed as he eyed her eagerly.

“Splendid, dear! Carver it is! Now, about our earlier topic–”

Carver dusted off her knees as she stood, eyeing the deer-esque demon cautiously. She allowed him to continue, despite her better judgment to gut him then and there.

“What do you say to a bit of coffee, over lunch?”

Carver blinks for a moment, then another, arms folding in front of her chest,” You're joking, right?”

Alastor practically giggles, a dark tendril reforming to hold up the skinned face of her victim,” I'm more of an emcee than a comedian, dear… though I can never pass on a good punchline! Haha!”

When Alastor extends the face to the woman, he squints mischievously,” But no, I'm being quite genuine… Tomorrow, Cannibal Town. There's a quaint little shop by Rosie’s Emporium, the Brimstone Brew… I trust that you've heard of it?”

Curtly, Carver nods, taking her trophy from the Radio Demon indignantly,” Vaguely. I just started working a new job closeby, actually,” she admits. The moment she does, she mentally curses herself. Alastor’s eyes widen, a hand childishly coming to cover his lips. Or more accurately, like a elitist, royal woman with her hand fan, trying to stife her reaction to juicy gossip.

“Pray tell, what do you do~?”

Carver scoffs, casting her gaze anywhere other than the man’s demented smile,” …just some butcher shop. The manager apparently got… well, butchered. So there was a vacancy that the Assistant Manager filled. Soooo… I– I was pulled in to become the new assistant there.”

Alastor seemed on the verge of jumping out of his own skin, leaning forward intently.

“You? Working in one of my favorite stops? Oh, how convenient, dear! Then hows about I ‘meat’ you there! Haha!”

The joke did not go unnoticed, a gruff ‘really?’ following after. He would need to work on her enthusiasm, too.

“See, we could go for a little stroll, and you can tell me more about this new venture of yours! Why, if it's entertaining enough, I'm sure your story would captivate an audience! My audience!”

Carver didn't get the chance to protest as the dapper demon took a few steps back, tipping his imaginary hat her way.

“Let's shoot for 11 o’clock, ‘sharp as your knife! I look forward to getting to know you better… Carver.”

And within a second, the crimson and ebony demon vanished into the shadows. Carver was left confused and stupefied by the entire interaction. She didn't even get a chance to tell Alastor that she actually had work that morning… not that the Radio Demon would stand for it. But, maybe she could brush him off easier this way… She was sure her new manager would intervene or prevent the entire situation from escalating...

The woman dug around in her satchel, until she found a gallon freezer bag. She unceremoniously threw the bloody, skinned face of her victim into her pack, rolling her eyes. Maybe ‘Carver’ was an alright name after all…

What a fucking day… and what a fucking man, to have the nerve to be so… so…

Carver blinked a few times, words escaping her. He was an asshole, but also seemed to have manners… He was infamous, but didn't seem to match the dark reputation… He was bitchy, but also… surprisingly gentle with her?

Carver touched her cheek, where a taloned finger once lingered. A swift flush ghosted across her face as she kicked the corpse on the ground, huffing defiantly. The sooner she could shake this guy off her back, the better. She didn't do ‘friends’. She didn't even have acquaintances. And yet, all in one night, she was given a nickname and asked to go on a coffee date, seemingly just to… talk?

Never would she have imagined such an odd scenario before now. But, she did have an interesting opportunity. Take him out on a date before you stab him, she loosely recalled. And she was more than eager to take him up on that offer to get him off her back.

Carver chuckled, clicking her tongue as she started the trek to her apartment. Maybe she could call in sick tomorrow! Why not?

She could humor this man, if only to hear what his screams would sound like. She hoped that his terror sounded as desperate and sweet as the ones from his broadcast… An artist often immolated their work, and she had a feeling that his anguish would taste just as divine...

This is not a love story. This is an autopsy.

[citrinesparkles]

cold hands

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 789 words. notes: i started this in december i swear it was seasonally appropriate at the time warnings: n/a

he scooped your hands into his own, cupping them together and bringing them to his face smoothly.

he caught your eye with a small smirk. you knew him well enough to know he wasn't really smug- he was looking for your reaction, a silent is this okay wrapped up in his confident expression. the large, colorful lights strung across the shop front you had stopped in front of were reflected in his eyes, but he was focused entirely on you.

you slipped your thumb out of his hold and ran it over his own.

jason took it for the invitation it was and exhaled heavily over your frigid fingers, looking down to them.

you, though? you kept your gaze right where it was.

he was beautiful, you thought. a strong jaw and handful of faded scars were contrasted by the softness of his eyes, his red (garnet, you remembered him saying with a little self-aware grin, not red- that was a work color, and you weren't work) knit hat bringing out the green in them. he was bathed in an orangey-pink from the décor behind you, and you almost wanted to pull a hand back to take a picture.

almost.

"i'm buying you some damn gloves," he muttered without heat, laughter buried in his tone as he gently massaged your fingers.

"and put my personal hand warmer out of a job?"

"he's creative. he'll find another one."

you let out a small huff of laughter, the sound turning to fog between the two of you. you pulled your hands out of his grasp- earning a raised eyebrow- and pushed forward to take hold of the front of his jacket, gently pulling him into kissing range.

as always, he adapted almost instantly. "see?" he asked quietly, his palms finding your hips. "a new job opened up pretty quick."

"shut up," you mumbled fondly, pressing your lips to his.

the warmth in your chest absolutely erupted, the sweet, familiar feeling of his lips- of his presence- making your heart and mind go the same sugar-sweet shade of pink.

"i love you," you pulled back to whisper firmly, grip tightening on his jacket just to give some of the oomph in your veins somewhere to go.

you felt his chuckle under your fists and against your lips, like the bassline of your favorite song with the dial all the way up, rattling through the floor and into your ribs and threatening to turn you giddy. "i think that means i'm doing alright at my new job."

"you're doing wonderfully at your new job."

not much would be worth opening your eyes from such a spell, but you found that his smile made the list: crooked and fond and beautiful and somehow it was aimed at you.

"think i can clock in for another shift?" he asked lowly, playfully, sending another wave of butterflies through your system. they left quickly, replaced by a feeling of belonging, of home, of peace.

"yes," you answered simply, trying (and failing, judging by his little laugh) to keep your eagerness under control. "you should."

so he kissed you again, holding you close. sheltering you from the chill of gotham in the dead of winter. reflecting warm lights onto you and chasing shadows away. turning every beautiful, poetic thought you'd ever had about him into something literal and visible and tangible and not having a single clue.

--

so he kissed you again, basking in the affection in your eyes and letting it warm him straight to his bones. begging his mind to save the image of you bathed in orange and pink and magic, looking at him like he was even close to that kind of beautiful, tugging him towards you like there was nowhere else on the planet you'd rather he be.

and he tried to hold you as softly as you deserved, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw and tilt your head slightly and cherishing the way you immediately, confidently leaned into his touch like you trusted him to keep you upright.

it felt like someone cracked a glowstick where his heart should be.

no- that was too vivid, too harsh. this was like a candle, warm and steady and breathing and alive. this was something to look to in the dim and the dreary, something by which he could read; something to warm his hands over, something to turn to when the storms rolled through and the power failed and left him in the dark.

you were something to turn to in the dark.

he decided, then and there, pressed against your coat and your lips and your warmth, that you were getting the nicest gloves he could get his hands on.

[hikukastel]

len.exe

[rqgnarok]

request: jamie x actress reader!

love your writing 💚

this turned out to be more a lil angstier that i expected but y'all KNOW ME

"You're nervous."

Jamie jumps, bow tie unmade and tangled in his fingers. "I- no. No, what? 'm not."

"Jay," your voice drips with sympathy, tilting your head to the side as you put on your earring. "I told you, you don't have to come if you don't want to. We don't have to do this if we're not ready."

This being announcing your relationship to the world. Somehow you'd managed to keep it lowkey, this thing between you, only your families and closest friends (and the entirety of AFC Richmond, of course) aware of how happy you and Jamie were in a relationship with each other.

But now both your publicists have given you the green light and you've been sitting on the announcement for weeks, figuring out the best way to do it. It was a matter of luck, or maybe a little nudge from the universe, that the Emmys came around just before Jamie had to be back in England for preseason. It was all perfect, a little too good to be true.

Which is why you're threading lightly.

You still his shaking hands by taking them in yours, leaving the bowtie on the table, and kissing his knuckles. "You know, I still think an Instagram post isn't the worst idea. Have you gotten your password back from Keeley?"

"No," Jamie shakes his head firmly, expression determined even if some nervousness lingers underneath it. "No, angel, 'm ready. Promise. I wanna be there to snog your pants off when you win."

"If I win," you smile at his relentless faith in you and the picture he paints. You can't say you don't like the sound of that. "And I'm not wearing pants. And you haven't looked me in the eye since we started getting ready."

Jamie's jaw tightens in frustration, meeting your stare just to show you he can, even if he looks away too quickly. You say softly, "Baby, I'm serious. I know you support me whether you're there or not. Whatever you chose, we've got each other's backs. A hundred percent."

"'s not that," Jamie mutters, slipping closer so he can press a kiss to your forehead without disrupting your hair or your clothes. Your stylist would kill him if she saw anything out of place after it took hours to doll you up. "I want to, angel, 'course I want to. I just- you have to be sure."

"You frown, reaching for him when he goes to take a step back, keeping him close. "What, about coming out together?"

Jamie shrugs, small and dejected. "'bout us, more like."

Realization dawns on you like a horrible, cold splash of water to the face. "I am," you say slowly, hesitating. "...Aren't you?"

Jamie looks at you like you're insane. "Of course I am, that's not what I mean. But if- after we do this there's no going back for you. No more secrets. No more take backsies. Everyone'll know."

"Take backsies," you scoff, glam be damned you cup his face in your hands and get real close.

"Honey," you say, soft and fierce all the same. "Look at me. Are you looking at me?"

"Yes, coach," he teases, and you barely refrain from flicking him on the forehead.

"I'm sure," you say and mean it. Falling in love with Jamie happened effortlessly but it was every day that you chose to be with him, a decision you haven't even thought of regretting. "You were never meant to be a secret, Jamie. And if I did something to make you think that was my intention-"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his previous restraint gone. Some things are more important than composure, you suppose.

He draws back, breathless, holding your chin in his hand and thumbing at the corner of your mouth where your lipstick is probably smudged. "You're perfect. 'm just being dumb, baby, I know you love me. I want you to be happy, 's all."

You frown. "It's not dumb if it upsets you."

"And I promise to talk about it tomorrow," he says as solemnly as you know Jamie's capable of being before he surges to kiss you again with the energy you usually associate with him.

"But tonight we're celebrating you. And every single one of those statue things we're taking home with us. Let's go knock 'em dead, sweetheart."