#i have no idea what to tag this as actually

[nocturnalfandomartist]

I'll save you...

I CRIED ACTUAL TEARS BTW. RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT.

HEY ZELDA FANDOM HOW ARE WE FEELING. I ASCENDED. I AM SO GIDDY I CAN ONLY TYPE ON GIBBERISH.

HEADCANONS AND PREDICTIONS AND THOUGHTS:

LIKE A MIX OF CLASSIC GAMES AND BOTW!!! OMG??? IT'S PERFECT EVERYONE IS SO CUTE!!! AND THE GANEPLAY FITS ZELLIE HERSELF!!! ALSO THE FAIRY!! YES ZELDA FAIRY FRIEND!

If Hyrulean soldiers are still enemies, perhaps Ganon's brainwashed the king again? Or maybe an Agahnim return? Surely Zelda's father being after her won't give her issues!!

theory: Link fell into the Dark World(?). IMAGINE she finds him and he's just a silly pink rabbit!

theory: zelda and link have... a history....

hc: zelda saves Link and echoes 500 flowers on top of him

GANON WHEN ZELDA TURNS HIS ARMY AGAINST HIM. FEAR HER. COWER!!!!

@shekiahastronomer (Your tag since it's finished, as requested!)

did anyone else notice SHE IS WEARING HIS CLOAK!!!!! ;_;

I'm so excited for all the headcanons and fics and fanart about this!! Another new Zelda game so soon!!!!

do you have any idea how feral I am I have waited my whole life for this

kdjsjwICUWKSHSISBSVXU ;_;

Time Elapsed: 1 hour, 26 minutes

More thoughts and predictions to come, I just can't formulate thoughts rn

Program Used: IbisPaint X

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✧ Ao3

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[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor, drinking ,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[dollfacefantasy]

second thoughts ♡

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

your ex keeps popping into your head during sex with toji, so he'll just have to make sure you can't think at all instead

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, dumbification, mentions of intrusive thoughts

tags: @gor3-hound @nexysworld

"Right here," he growls, "Look right here. Right in my fuckin' eyes."

His large hand held your head in place by your jaw. He gives it a sharp jerk, jostling your thoughts into place. Making sure you're completely focused on him. His lower half thrusts against you hard and fast, stretching you out with each rock of his hips.

"'m lookin'" you whine, your lips parting as little mewls fly out.

"Good. Good girl," he grunts.

The muscles in his abdomen flex as he keeps pounding into you. He wasn't taking it easy on you tonight. He was determine to make sure you couldn't think of anything but him.

The past couple of weeks things had been off between you two. Since you started dating, your relationship had always been very physical. You had sex once a day at minimum, and when he wasn't inside of you, he had a hand somewhere on your body. He may have struggled with true intimacy, but physicality came easy.

The problem he'd noticed recently was you didn't seem as into it as you usually were. You seemed kind of spaced out. You got pretty quiet when you were typically vocal.

His first reaction was insecurity. Was he not pleasing you? Were growing bored of him? The possibility of that unnerved him to his core, but he tried to convince himself those couldn't be true. You never denied him when he initiated, and you still loved to cuddle and hang off his arm whenever you could.

After another round of you looking distracted while he was balls deep, he finally just had to ask.

"Sorry..." you'd said, looking up at him sheepishly, "I just... I'm having trouble focusing."

Your tone almost made him feel guilty for asking, but your reasoning didn't answer all his questions. He knew you had trouble with concentration and intrusive thoughts sometimes. He just didn't think it would apply to this.

"Focusing?" he murmured, ducking down to plant some kisses on your cheek, "Am I not doing it right, baby? You know... I'm open to pointers."

"No... it's not that. It's just..." you continue. You hesitate as to whether or not you should actually tell him.

"C'mon, angel face," he said, nuzzling your jaw, "You know you can tell me. I want you to feel good too."

"You do make me feel good," you reassured, "It's just that I can't get my brain to be quiet. And when we're doing it, I keep thinking of my ex boyfriend, and it doesn't feel good. I don't like him at all, it's just like my mind wants to bug me."

Even though the idea of you thinking about another man during sex causes jealousy to flare within him, he reins in the instinctive anger he feels. By the pained look on your face, you clearly were just as displeased with it as he was. And while it hadn't happened in a while, he couldn't pretend like he'd never had his late wife dance through his thoughts in the heat of the moment.

So he didn't make you feel bad about it. He sighed and told you it was ok. You wanted to finish though and so he got you both to finish. He held you after like always and let you fall asleep against his side, but in his own mind, he planned for things would be different next time. There was no way he was gonna let some other guy keep you from enjoying yourself with him.

That's what led the both of you to now. He keeps your gaze locked with his own as fills you to the brim. Your eyes are glossy but with the haze of pleasure now rather than distraction, and he can't enough of it.

"That's right, babydoll. It's all me now, isn't it?" he coos lowly in your ear.

"Mhm," you whimper and nod, your head bobbing extra from his momentum.

"No room for anyone else," he grunts and digs his fingers into the plush of your cheeks.

Your lips puff out under the pressure, and he leans down to mash his mouth against your own. The kiss is wet and sloppy, your saliva and his mixing together while he nips at your bottom lip. He ruts into you faster, his breaths growing more ragged.

"Fuck.. Toji," you whimper arching your back and pressing your tits up against his chest.

"That's all you're gonna be able to say when I'm done with you, sweet thing," he says.

You whine and nod. That was what you wanted. Just him. If he was the only thing on your mind, you were happy. A big, dazed smile drifts to your features to match your fucked out eyes.

"That's a biiiiig smile, princess," he coos mockingly, "Who's making you smile like that?"

"You are," you whimper.

"Right. No one else can make you smile like that," he says.

You nod again and yelp when his cock rams into a sweet spot inside you. He chuckles at the sound and lifts his hands to rest above your head, caging your body below his.

"My baby. You're all mine. Mine to fuck dumb every. single. night," he pants.

"Don't want anyone else. Just you," you babble and drag your nails down his back.

"I know it," he says.

He then quickly reaches down, securing your hips with an iron grip and fucks into you as deep as possible. You see stars stars and let out a sound you can't control. You tighten around him like a vise, keeping him nice and deep where you need him.

"My Toji," you slur and bring your own hands back up to slide through his hair.

He moans quietly, and his eyes flutter shut. His hips sputter a bit as he feels his release creeping up on him.

"Gonna cum soon, dollface. Get you nice and full of me so even when I pull out, you know who that pussy belongs to," he mumbles.

You mewl in ecstasy, eager to feel him shoot deep inside you.

It doesn't take long for you to get your wish. His body lowers against yours, his flushed, sweaty skin sliding against your flesh. He pumps into you desperately with a groan as he drains himself between your tight, velvety walls.

He lets it all sink inside you before pulling out. His cock is still slick with your arousal. He leans back and pushes your thighs up, taking a look at your pussy stuffed full of his cum. Just how it should be.

Up top, you were still blissed out. He huffs out a laugh at your drooping eyes and contented expression.

"How you feeling, baby?" he asks and crawls back on top of you to give you some lazy smooches.

You hum and rub your nose against his cheek. Words were too hard right now in the best way.

He smirks and nips at your nose teasingly.

"Head all clear?" he whispers.

"Mhm," you say with satisfaction, opening your eyes wider and taking in the face of the man who had you now, mind and body.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Double penetration with the Riddles??? 🤨 Male reader please 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Double Trouble - T. R. & M. R. x male!Reader

A/N: 😈 I hope you enjoy. It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. Also, please take the warnings seriously 🫶 I think I tagged everything but let me know if I missed something!

THERE IS NO SHIPPING BETWEEN TOM AND MATTHEO IN THIS!!!!

Fic is very 18+ so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Arguing; sexual content; explicit sexual content; almost fighting; Reader is referred to as a fucktoy; bickering; pet names; dom/sub dynamics, I think; exhibitionism, I think; praise; degradation; Reader is referred to as a slut; doggy style; spanking; Reader is a tiny bit of a brat; actual lube is used in this one; anal sex; anal fingering; begging; anal penetration; more spanking; double penetration, hehe; Reader blacks out from his orgasm; sorry for the ending; this takes place after Hogwarts so everyone involved is of age!!!!

2539 words

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were lying on Tom’s bed in his apartment bedroom, listening to him and Mattheo argue.

It wasn’t a particularly unusual exchange, but it was making you nervous. Tom usually took his frustration out on you sexually after a fight with his brother. But Mattheo’s staying with the two of you for Christmas break.

There is no escape from him.

As their argument grows more heated, you groan and begin to get up. Maybe talking a walk will bring about the end of their argument.

“No, you stay there,” Tom orders, his tone demanding obedience.

You freeze immediately, eyes going wide.

Both brothers turn to you, gazes equally as intense. It ignites something within you. Something hot that makes your cock twitch in your pants.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and make it go away. No such luck.

Thankfully, neither boy seems to notice.

“You’re smart,” Mattheo says critically, crossing his arms. “You help us decide.”

“He’s more than smart,” Tom says sharply. You can see the fight in his eyes, the way he’s ready to snap out a defense for you.

“Alright. I’ll help.” You sit back on your hands, gesturing for them to explain. “What’s the fight about this time?”

“We weren’t fighting—“

“Mattheo thinks he’s better in bed than me—“

“We’re— That’s not what I said, you dick!”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you enlighten us as to what you said, then?”

“Guys…” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I said I had a bigger dick than you!”

“Oh, right, because that’s so much better.”

“Hey guys…!” You stare at them.

“It is! You know I’m right! Remember that guy—“

“Yeah, I remember! Now shut up!”

Mattheo’s fist is halfway drawn back and Tom’s gripping his collar when you finally shout, “Hey!”

They stop and turn to you. Identical scowls on their faces. “What?”

You falter for a moment, unsure what to do now that you have their attention. “Calm down. There’s gotta be a better solution to this than fighting.”

They glare at you. The same angry look on both of their faces.

It’s hot. And you’re painfully aware of the way your pants feel tight.

Tom’s gaze drops for a moment, and you know you’re fucked.

“You know,” he drawls, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “I’ve thought of an idea.”

Mattheo’s gaze turns to him. “What?”

“If you’re so sure you’re better than me,” Tom continues, cocky gaze fixed on yours. “Then why don’t we test it out. See who really fucks better.”

You shiver, cock twitching in your pants. He’s not saying… He doesn’t mean…

Mattheo glances between you two, brow furrowed. “You mean…”

“Just this once.” Tom glances at his brother. “Are you in?”

Mattheo cocks his head, his gaze turning into something cunning. “I thought you didn’t share.”

Tom’s eyes narrow. “Are you in or not?”

“Fine.” Mattheo rolls his eyes and glances at you. He eyes you like a piece of meat, clearly interested in the plan.

Your cock twitches again at his look, making the tiniest whimper catch in your throat. Merlin, do you want them to fuck you.

Tom starts talking again. “Now for the real question. Which of us goes first?”

“Me,” Mattheo says confidently. “It should be me.”

Tom gives him a cold side eye. “Oh? And why is that, pray tell?”

“He’s your fucktoy. You get to have him whenever you want. ‘Sides,” Mattheo smirks. “You’d get too jealous if I went second.”

“Hmph.” Tom scoffs softly. “Very well. I suppose I’ll allow you to have a go first.”

“Oh, wow. ‘Allow me’. Like he can’t choose if I get to fuck him or not.”

Tom bristles. “Don’t get too full of yourself. This is a one time thing only, Mattheo.”

Mattheo rolls his eyes and turns to you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

He says it so mockingly, but you nod so eagerly. You can’t help it; you’ve always been weak to Tom’s meanness. From Mattheo, it has practically the same effect.

Still, you can’t help but get a little shy when you ask, “You want me to undress for you, um…” You hesitate. You call Tom ‘sir’, but that’s his thing.

“Matty.” Mattheo smirks at you a little. “Just call me Matty.”

You relax a bit. “Okay. Do you want me to undress, Matty?”

“Yeah.” His smirk grows. “Go right ahead, handsome.”

You flush a little, and Tom scowls. He crosses his arms tightly, watching you intently. It only makes your skin burn hotter, a shiver working up your spine.

You undress quickly, and sit back on the bed. Tom’s long since fucked any shame out of you, but with Mattheo gazing at you so hungrily, it’s hard not to be a little embarrassed.

“Look at you,” Mattheo murmurs, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh. “So eager. Are you always this eager for my brother?”

You nod, swallowing down a moan at his tone. Mattheo’s smirk turns cruel. “Little slut.”

You shudder, a whine spilling from your lips. You can’t help it; you love being degraded like this.

Mattheo gestures for you to roll over and you do. You settle on your knees, trembling with excitement.

“Such an obedient toy,” Mattheo chuckles, trailing his fingers over your ass. “I’m almost jealous.”

“Just get to fucking him already,” Tom snaps.

“Why?” Mattheo sneers. “Scared I’ll do a better job at pleasuring him than you?”

“You little—“

“Or maybe you’re just jealous he’s so excited for me?”

You groan and bury your face in your pillow. Your cock is leaking, dripping pearly beads of precum onto the mattress. And they’re too busy fighting to care.

“Please!” You beg, interrupting them. “Just fuck me already!”

Dead silence.

You don’t even have to look to know you’ve fucked up.

A hand comes down sharply on your ass and you yelp, jolting forward. Pleasure and pain rocket through you, making your brain go fuzzy. “Fuck! I’m sorry!”

“You should be!” Tom hisses.

Mattheo scoffs and grips your ass tightly, fingers digging into your skin. “And to think I was gonna be nice to you.”

You just moan into the pillows.

Mattheo smacks your ass again, harder this time. “Little slut. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasp out. “Fuck, yes!”

“Dumb little slut. Can’t think of anything beyond getting fucked, can you?” Mattheo sneers.

You just squirm and wiggle your ass, trying to provoke him into giving you something—anything at all.

He spanks you again, a low growl in his throat. “That’s enough. Act up once more, and you’ll see what it’s like to be punished by me.”

Oh, how you ache to see what that punishment entails. Every fiber of your being wants to act out against him, just to see what he does.

A hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, tight enough to hurt. “Don’t you even fucking dare.”

Tom. And he sounds pissed. As if he could read your very thoughts. Which, you were reminded, he could. Being a Legimens and all that.

Your body calms. You relax a little, taking a deep shaky breath. The fight leaves your body, making you go all soft and pliant under Mattheo’s hands.

“Good boy.” Tom lets go of you and steps back again. “Remember your place.”

You melt into the pillows, focusing on relaxing and staying calm. Something cold and wet drips against your asshole, pulling your attention. It’s lube, silky against your tender skin.

Mattheo’s fingers press against your asshole, making you moan. You force yourself to stay loose and relaxed as he slowly works his fingers into your sensitive hole.

“Greedy little bastard,” he mutters. “Taking me so well. Just like a slut.”

You can’t stop the whimpers and moans that spill from your lips. You arch as Mattheo’s fingers brush against a spot inside you that makes your head spin and your vision fuzz. “Fuck! Right there!”

He chuckles a little and prods the spot again. “Right here?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squirm and gasp as he massages the area, making stars burst in your vision. “Fuck!”

“Mattheo.” Tom’s voice is harsh and annoyed. “You’re here to fuck him, not pleasure him.”

Mattheo just snickers softly and removes his fingers from your ass. You whine at the loss, trying your best not to grind against the bed underneath you. You just need something—anything at all.

More cold lube is dribbled onto your ass and Mattheo coats his dick in it. The action makes you moan. He’s big. Bigger than Tom even.

Anticipation builds as Mattheo positions his cock, pressing the tip against your asshole. “You ready, handsome?”

“Just fuck him already!” Tom snaps. “He can take it. He loves this sort of stuff.”

It’s not a lie, and you whimper into the pillows at his harsh words. Part of you appreciates Mattheo’s care, his softer actions. An even bigger part of you just wants to be fucked dumb by him.

You press back against Mattheo, sneakily trying to slip the tip of his cock inside you while he’s busy arguing with Tom.

No such luck.

A hand comes down on your ass again, smacking you harshly. “What did I say about knowing your place?”

It’s Tom this time. You yelp and whimper, burying your face in the pillows at the welcome sting.

“Please, sir!” You beg. “Please, I need it so bad!”

“Oh, you need it, huh?” Mattheo’s voice makes you want to worship at his feet; it’s so sinfully cruel, so unbearably attractive. “Where was all this begging just a moment ago?”

You want to sob. You want to cry. You want to scream, to beg for him to please stop teasing you! But you don’t. You know better than that.

“Please, Matty,” you whimper. “Please fuck me! I’ll be so good! I’ll make you feel so good, just please please fuck me!”

With a smug grunt, Mattheo pushes his dick into your ass. “Good boy.”

You moan. Burying your face in your pillows and gripping the sheets underneath you. He feels amazing.

Big and thick and perfect.

You’ve never felt so full in your life. And he hasn’t even bottomed out.

Mattheo starts to thrust and you wail into the pillows. He’s hitting that spot inside you so perfectly. Practically ramming it with his cock, making your head spin with pleasure.

You can’t even think. Can’t do anything but squirm underneath him, babbling cries of “Yes! Yes! Matty!”

You don’t know how long he fucks you; it feels like forever and only a moment. All you can focus on is the growing twists of pleasure in your abdomen and the delicious ache that fills you every time he pounds into you.

Vaguely, you’re aware of harsh words. Of a cool hand on your ass. And then Mattheo’s cock is gone.

You sob at the loss. Actual tears filling your eyes. You need to be filled. Need to be used until you cum.

“Please!” You sob. “Please! I need more!”

“Oh, shut up. You’ll get more when I give it to you.” Tom’s voice.

A new cock pushes into your ass and you whine. It’s good. It feels good. But it’s not enough.

You endure it as long as you can, whining and moaning as Tom fucks you. But eventually you break.

“Please, please, sir! I need more! I need more!”

Tom stills. You cry into your pillows, pressing back against him. You need more, not less.

But he pulls out.

You can hear soft murmurs. Angry hisses. Then cool silence.

You can feel their gazes on you. Feel their burning stares.

After what feels like an eternity, a warm hand grips your ass. Icy cruel words spit out. “Fucking slut. Can’t be sated with just one brother, can you?”

You squirm with anticipation, biting the pillow under you to keep from moaning. You don’t know what they’re planning. But it’s going to be good. And it’s going to be mean.

A hand smacks the meat of your ass, cool and punishing. “He asked you a question.”

“No,” you gasp out. “I need more!”

“Little slut needs us both, I think.” Mattheo’s tone is calculating. Cold. “If he needs more so badly, I think we can give that to him.”

A thrill shoots up your spine. Both? At the same time?

Your brain practically goes to mush at the thought.

“Yes!” You babble out. “I need you both!”

Mattheo chuckles darkly. “What did I tell you, Tom? You’ve got yourself a greedy little fucktoy here.”

“I know what I have,” Tom replies, but his voice lacks its usual bite. “Now move over.”

Your body sings with excitement and anticipation. You need them so badly. Just the thought makes you moan, unable to stop from grinding a little against the sheets.

Dual hands come down on your ass, one on either side. Cold and warm, both making you yelp and jerk at the sudden sting. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“I’m sorry!” You whimper. “I just need—“

“We know what you need.”

More lube is slathered over your asshole, cool fingers prepping you for what lies ahead.

You can barely wait, panting and whining into your pillows.

Finally, finally, their tips press against your asshole. You instantly surge back, desperate to take them both. This time, they let you.

Hands grip your waist, steadying you and holding you in place.

There’s a moment of calm.

And then they push in.

You melt. You moan. You sob. You writhe in pleasure.

You’re so fucking full.

And when they thrust into you? Seeing stars doesn’t nearly describe it well enough. It’s pure bliss. Pure euphoric pleasure.

The sounds you make are barely human. Wails and sobs and moans. Echoing the growls and groans and hisses of pleasure coming from the brothers.

You could die a happy man being fucked like this. The world could end and you would not give a damn.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, slamming into you with so much force you black out. Utterly and completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

When you come to, the boys are bickering. Quietly arguing yet again.

This time, though, the sound is welcome. You bask in it, relishing the way their voices wash over you.

You’re on your back now. Your ass feels full, cum slowly leaking out of you.

You let out a soft moan, cluing them into the fact you’re awake. The arguing stops.

Cool fingers press against your forehead. “Hello, darling.” Tom’s voice. “You had quite the moment there, didn’t you?”

“Mmm~” You nuzzle into his hand, your tongue heavy and thick in your mouth. Speaking feels like too much of an effort so you just lazily grin.

A soft chuckle comes from your other side. “I told you he’d be fine.”

Heavy silence. Tom clearly holds himself back from arguing more. “I… suppose you were right.”

You open your eyes, surprised. The admission feels… like some sort of victory between the two. Like, a moment of possible reconciliation.

For a moment, the three of you rest in it.

Then Mattheo breaks the silence. “So, which of us fucked better, in the end?”

Tom hits him with a pillow.

[tititilani]

Never let anyone say peer pressure doesn't work because I'm currently 2.5k deep in that Simon takes Edwin's offer fic that I said I didn't have time for, oops.

[homosexualworkaccount]

Jason Todd’s “Replacement” nickname for Tim Drake, Origins and Popularisation

So, making a 2500-word essay on how a fanon nickname that only me and like two other people care about is not how I expected to spend my time in between exams.

A lot of Batfam fans are very, very much aware of the fanon “Replacement” nickname Jason has for Tim, and a lot of us very, very much hate it due to the connotations of fanon characterisation that it has. I don’t personally, I think it’s an alright enough one that fits into the established canon ones – but to be fair, I haven’t read the comics in a hot minute, so my memory could be screwy.

I got curious one day on where the nickname came from when a user on TikTok mentioned that it might’ve originated from a Batfam incest fic (They weren’t too sure and told me to take it with a grain of salt) – so shout out to them for starting me down this rabbit hole! I looked over on here and saw that notion repeated, though no one could pinpoint me to a specific fic beyond “It was popularised from a Batfam incest fic.”. I also saw a few people say that it was derived from canon, which piqued my interest further so I decided to go down a rabbit hole of fandom history purely for some fun.

The aim of this essay is just to clear up some misconceptions around the origin of the name, all fun and no harm. Don’t send harassment to people referenced in this either over a silly nickname, it's been well over a decade since they wrote the works used here.

Preface

Alright, first things first – all sources are going to be ones that were published after August 2005, the official date the first issue of Batman: Under the Red Hood was published, where Jason was established to be alive again.

While there could be a chance that the nickname was derived from a website/fanfiction before 2005, it’s highly unlikely due to the fact it was only popularised in the early 2010’s, and well, because Jason was dead and no one gave a shit about him. Also good to remember that most websites that ran before 2005 are defunct and purged from the internet now, particularly fanfiction websites (such as Quidzillia) due to various issues (taboo, copyright, costs to run ect).

Small note to make again – the Batfam fandom was fairly small at the time, the more fandom-y part of the DC community usually sticking to their own websites like Quotev, Quidzilla (again, defunct now), AO3, Fanfiction.net, LiveJournal and independent websites (again, defunct) while the rest stuck to discussion sites, so the entire fandom functioned more as a insular community from what I could tell. I will be working with the assumption that the nickname was created on one of the larger platforms, as any other platform didn’t have large enough influence to popularise the nickname.

The nicknames that I specifically looked for was simply Jason calling Tim Replacement in place of his actual name. Something like “Replacement Robin” was on very thin ice, but still counted as an offshoot. Anything else was off bets.

This whole thing will be split into a few sections to make some things for myself easier. Preface, Sources, Pre-cursor Fanfiction, Fandom Opinion and Language, First usage, Popularisation, Conclusion, Questions, Final Notes.

Sources

Fanfic.net – Created 1998, was and remains one of the larger fanfiction sites. Note; Fanfiction.net had various periods of time where there were large scale purges of fanfictions that held more mature content. Most notable instances were in 2002 and 2012.

Archive Of Our Own – The holy grail for my research. Created in 2008. For the information I got from there I used the search filter Date Updated, tagged Jason’s and Tim’s individual tags and followed from there.

Live Journal – Created 1999 and was used as one of the larger sites for fandom and fanfiction. Was used by DC fandom goers regularly so I used it to get an idea of the fandom at the time.

Tumblr – Created 2007. Theres various people on here who have compilations on DC timelines and comic sourcing that helped me correlate fandom growth with specific comic releases (Shout out to @ectonurites for their meta posts and timeline posts, they were a major source for this!). Dogshit filtering system, so I couldn’t find posts pre 2012 about DC.

Note; Quotev and Wattpad weren’t used in this as their filtering systems don’t account for searching for older fanfictions, so sadly had to be discarded as most fanfictions between 2006-2010 on those websites are now very difficult to find.

Pre-Cursor FanFiction

So, before we get to the actual first proper use I could find of “Replacement”, I first want to mention a fanfiction that had something very similar that I think would be important purely for archiving reasons around how the nickname came to be. And also because it fits the nickname criteria I mentioned earlier.

Published on the 29th of November 2006, last updated on the 28th of November 2007, was the fanfiction My-Enemy-My-Brother on Fanfiction.net by user theunknownvoice – featuring the first use of Jason referring to Tim with a nickname including replacement, Replacement Robin. Kudos to theunknownvoice, they created the very first nickname that would kickstart the rest.

While Jason doesn’t explicitly refer to Tim as Replacement – the main subject of this essay, it comes very damn close, so I wanted to include it. There is a part where Jason repeats replacement in his head multiple times, and I think he’s supposed to be referring to Tim, but the sentence isn’t very clear on that part, so I won’t count it, but it is important to acknowledge.

Though this isn’t the fanfiction that influenced the development of Replacement. This fic had barely enough reach to influence any future works years later. I couldn’t find any connection with this work and later works that officially did just have Jason call Tim “Replacement”

Fandom Opinion and Language at the time

I promise this is important and that I’m not a pretentious linguistic, English isn’t even my first language.

I like to think we all know how fandom discussion just seeps into fanfiction (See; the nickname green bean for Deku from MHA leaking into fanfiction) so I just want to quickly point this out.

Discussion around the two blew up after Jasons return in late 2005, people going “What does this mean” and “What does that mean for Tim”. Through the few posts I could dig up from this time and up to 2011, it seems people came to the conclusion that Tim was Jason’s replacement, and that their dynamic was Jason dealing with the fact that he had one. You can definitely see that in some of the posts and fanfiction written at the time that usually had Jason dealing with Tim being his replacement.

(Just a few examples from LiveJournal but more like this are still floating around, if they aren’t deleted anyway)

It’s very likely that the authors themselves engaged in similar discussions/had independent thoughts that ended in the same conclusions, seeping into the fanfiction itself later. In the comics pre-New 52 I couldn’t find any major instance of Jason explicitly referring to Tim as his replacement (only implied through speech), so this was mostly contained in fandom discussions from what I can tell. (Note, this was probably similar on comic discussion websites, but I couldn’t find any that still exist pre-2007, so I’m going to assume literacy skills are not any better on those sites. See; Batman dick riders)

The fact that Tim is explicitly described as having replaced Jason, and sometimes as “Being the Replacement” on posts/fanfiction definitely had a hand in the creation and popularisation of the nickname, influencing the fan content made around the two.

First usage of Replacement

Cain! Cain! Is the first use of the nickname Replacement really from a Batfam incest fanfiction?

Nope, thank God.

After filtering their character tags together on AO3, going to the oldest page and clicking through over 10 pages, reading every single fanfiction on each one (yes, even the weird ones, I was dedicated) I found the first instance where Jason explicitly refers to Tim as Replacement, that still exists today anyway.

Published on the 24th of January, 2009 by user shiny_glor_chan, is the fanfiction Four Calling Birds, a fanfiction detailing Stephenie Brown returning from faking her death (a whole headache from the comics that I can't be arsed to explain) and getting to meet Jason and Dick for the first time. Genuinely sweet, and a corner stone of fandom history, officially. Hip hip Hooray! Congratulations shiny_glor_chan.

I tried tracing to see if this person had any other accounts that I could find to see where they got the nickname from, but it seems it’s mostly a nickname they thought up out of the fact that they had consistently wrote Jason explicitly stating that Tim was his replacement

And reading through several more pages of fanfiction again, feeling like I want to bleach my eyes out, I found the second instance of the nickname being used. Published on the 26th of May, 2010 by user axiel-neesan, is the fanfiction The Only Piece You Get, where Jason basically acts as Tim’s cabbie and bonds with him. Another corner stone of fandom history, hooray.

These two authors are completely unrelated and have no connections to each other besides both frequenting LiveJournal, having taken prompts and having friends from that website, despite having no accounts I could find. I personally think they had a similar train of thought of “Huh, that would be a sick ass nickname.”. Chances are that axiel-neesan saw shiny_glor_chans fic and got inspired as the fandom was dead small on AO3 at the time – around 20 pages worth of fanfiction from 2008-2010 (And thats being generous if we’re counting now deleted ones)

These two fanfictions are immensely important because it’s the only early instances I could find of the nickname being used, and for about two years after the nickname pops up occasionally – but by no means was it popular, or even regularly used, I had to look for the fanfictions that used it.

Props to shiny_glor_chan and axiel-neesan! I pray that you two don’t see what the fandom thinks of that nickname now.

Popularisation

Early 2012 saw the proper explosion of fandom for the Batfam, and by extension the nickname.

By this point there were so many fanfictions that I couldn’t read them all, so I started picking random ones that tagged Jason and Tims relationship, platonic or not. Pre-April-ish of 2012 the nickname popped up every other page or so, but sometime after mid-2012 the nickname was in almost every fanfiction that I skimmed through – so that’s its official growth period.

Why though? Several factors probably.

The New-52 was in full swing by this time, DC massively promoting the reboot to get new fans interested, so people picked up comics from there. Young Justice – the more mainstream exposure of DC to surface level fans aired its second season in April of 2012, introducing people to Tim Drake and his story and getting them interested. Fanfiction and fandom as a whole was becoming less taboo and more accepted in fan spaces, so encouragement to write it was much better than it was in the early years of the internet (Example; Teen Wolf’s production team)

As for a specific catalyst for the growth of popularity for the nickname? There might be something worth pointing to.

Kudos for @ectonurites for helping me on this (Hi Sam! I was anon!) and giving me a publishing date on Tim’s and Jason’s first New 52 interaction – Red Hood and the Outlaws #8, published on the 18th of April, 2012. It features an instance of Jason and Tim interacting in a very friendly and familial way, Jason explicitly calling Bruce their Dad. Compared to their last major previous interaction of Jason leaving Tim for dead, fans of the two who enjoyed the more familial potential (and tragically, romantic potential) took it and ran with it.

All of these combined in some way to contribute to the popularity of the nickname in mid to late 2012, and lead to it’s infamy in DC fanfiction.

Conclusion

In conclusion, how do I think the nickname came to be?

I think it’s a combination of factors that led to it’s creation. As already established people very much did see Tim as Jasons replacement at the time, and the language could have shortened down from “Tim replaced Jason” to “Tim is Jason’s replacement” to “Tim is the replacement” which I think could be the train of thought the 2006 author went down to create the nickname Replacement Robin.

This definitely influenced the AO3 writers as shiny_glor_chan was present on LiveJournal at the time (where this language was very prominent), so they were already down the line of thinking this and probably went “Huh, replacement is kinda a funny nickname” and added it. As already stated, I think axiel-neesan probably had a very similar train of thought or may have seen shiny_glor_chan’s fic and was inspired.

And from there people saw it, used it in their own works, getting leaked over onto LiveJournal, which was the main website for prompt sharing, getting used a decent amount there before the explosion of fandom in mid-2012 that lead to it’s regular usage in fan works.

Questions

So, is the nickname from a Batcest fic?

Nope! The nickname mostly makes an appearance in platonic fics between Jason and Tim, it’s actually a chore to find it in their romantic ones, as in I think I found one instance of it being used somewhere in late 2010 but I can't think of it in a fanfiction that predates that. All early uses of the nickname were in platonic fics between the two.

I think this rumour is based around three fanfictions specifically on Ao3 that people are pointing to, I think, no one seems to be wanting to name names. They’re the ones that pop up when you search Replacement in the word search after tagging Tim Drake and Jason Todd together.

Wings to Fly. Published October of 2012. Jason Refers to Tim as Replacement. Jason/Tim

Replacement. Published 2009. The title implies it’s referring to Tim, but Jason never explicitly nicknames Tim replacement, the narrator only calling Tim “His replacement”, him being Jason. Jason/Tim. Non-con

The Replacement. Published 2011. Can't figure out if the title is supposed to refer to Tim or is simply just titled that for the sake of it. Jason talks a few times about Tim being his replacement, but the nickname never makes an appearance. Jason/Tim

Does the nickname have any bases in Canon?

From what I can tell, no. I haven’t read all the Batfamily comics Pre-New 52, or from after Batman: Under The Red Hood, I mostly stray towards Hal Jordans comics lol. I don’t think theres any major instance where Jason talks about Tim replacing him by specifically using replacement or replacing (It can be inferred from his speech sometimes, but Jason’s relationship with Tim was much more complex than that. I’d recommend reading @ectonurites metas about the two to get a better idea) Theres a few instances in 2015 post-New 52 reboot where Jason says explicitly that Tim replaced him, but that was way after the nickname was popularised.

Red Hood and Arsenal #7 (2015)

Final Notes

That’s about it! That’s the result of my month long dive into almost twenty years worth of DC fandom history as a fun side project. Please don’t harass anyone linked here, this was just project to pass the time and not a call out post for anyone that did contribute to the popularisation of the nickname.

Feel free to ask me anything else about this or any other DC fandom history and I’ll try to research it!! This was genuinely a fun thing to do to pass the time and work out my research muscles.

[scoobydoodean]

I have 2 spn accounts, a Deancentric blog that ships Destiel and another account that unintentionally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. So one blog follows majority Deangirl blogs and the other incidentally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. And here's the major difference I've noticed on the different dashboards.

Deangirl dashboard: Great meta analysis. Beautiful art. Level 1 and 2 headcanons (largely based in canon). Pro-Dean. Stumble across reblogs of Deancrit. Bitter Deangirl blogging. Generally fair portrayal and discussion of the positive and negative traits and actions of Dean, Sam and Cas. Deanhater anons.

Samgirl dashboard: An entirely different pool of beautiful art. Whole lotta woobie!Sam art where Dean is his abuser. Deancrit about Dean being an abuser. Bitter Samgirl blogging about how people will find any excuse to hate Sam. "How can anyone be Samcrit he has done nothing wrong ever." Level 5 headcanons (you literally ignored canon to make that up). More about how Dean is Sam's abuser. So many posts about how awful Samcrit is. "Do Deangirls really think that Dean cries himself to sleep at night thinking that ppl thinks he doesn't know how to read." I have yet to see any actual Samcrit posts (not even links or reblogs from Sam defenders), not even after literally searching the Samcrit tag for it. The Samcrit tag is full of Samgirls crying about Samcrit and no actual Samcrit. "Samgirls are feral, but we need to be bc of the hate ppl throw Sam's way."

I literally have to block so many people on the incidentally Samgirl dashboard bc I'm not on Tumblr to randomly stumble across a post on how Dean is a toxic stalker who abused Sam by changing Amelia's number in his cellphone. Do you have any idea on why Samgirls seem to feel so attacked all the time even though I literally only ever see *them* attacking Dean?

If you dig deep enough into any fandom, you will encounter people who fetishize "helpless victimhood". Some fandoms attract more people with those particular proclivities than others. Supernatural and Sam in particular attracts people who hold those sorts of aesthetic interests because of his relationship toward accountability versus Dean's.

Dean is a character with an overactive sense of responsibility. He blames himself for the Lindbergh baby and unemployment and every child murdered by a shrtiga from 1990 to 2005 because he went to play an arcade game when he was 10. He also blames himself for things like Jessica dying and Sam not being in school. Other characters pile on this blame frequently. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt (1.18). Ruby tells him (and Sam) that Sam is a weak baby who won't psychologically survive without Dean there to protect him (3.11). Meg alleges that Dean is "dragging Sam everywhere" (1.16). Sam rewrites reality from 1.05 to 1.21 to make Dean responsible for his burning desire for revenge. Cas and Zachariah and Gabriel blame Dean when Sam breaks the last seal because he didn't stop Sam in time. Sam blames Dean for him drinking demon blood first because Dean wasn't there to protect him and then—in a complete 180—because Dean is smothering (4.04, 5.05). Dean generally absorbs blame when it is piled at his feet because he has been blamed for things he couldn't control for most of his life and thus he feels guilty and responsible for things even when him being responsible makes no logical sense. He's never a victim of anything—everything is always on him.

Sam, on the other hand, tends to eventually deflect blame because he can't handle the gnawing bite of it for long. It reminds him too deeply of being left isolated and alone as a child and the feelings of otherness and wrongness he developed through that neglect. When his actions ultimately have consequences he didn't foresee and/or that he finds undesirable, it makes him feel ugly and unaccepted and he can't face it so he eventually finds a way to make what happened someone else's fault—usually Dean's fault. Nothing is ever on him. He's always at least a little bit of a victim and Dean always carries at least partial responsibility for his decisions (1.21, 1.08, 4.04, 5.05, 8.23, 11.01)

In other words, Sam has an under-active sense of responsibility and Dean has an overactive responsibility and that dynamic—driven by their childhood experiences—places them into a vicious cycle of blame being cast onto Dean for Sam's decisions and Dean absorbing it. Dean absorbing it reinforcing the narrative for samgirls with a victimhood fetish that Dean deserves blame and that Sam truly is a helpless baby. They never watch what actually happens on the show to see whether this narrative that Dean is responsible for everything and Sam is a helpless baby lines up with the actual events that occurred onscreen because why would they? That would ruin their enjoyment. Sam isn't interesting to them outside of his capacity to be mourned as some sort of helpless martyr. And yes—they will cry and moan about how horrible and unfair Sam's suffering is, but it isn't because they're having a bad time. They're having a great time. They love thinking about Sam that way. They wouldn't be here blogging about it day in and day out for the last 20 years if they didn't actually want to see exactly what they're seeing.

Related tags of note:

#sams motivations

#taurus sam in the flesh

#In which Sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea

#sam the hunter

#sams follower/leader false dichotomy

#parentification

[archie-sunshine]

hewwo!! i am like pretty new here also, do you by any chance have any good intro posts for kf? i love it but also have no idea whats going on HAHA like i have also been through the tag but definitely not all of it :'3 (my silliest question is do all da tfs have tails btw)

I do not have an intro post.... UNTIL NOW OKAY LETS FUCKING GO STRAP IN ITS GONNA BE LONG!

OKAY SO BASICALLY I based a lot of the actual lore of knightformers on IDW, but i left a lot of open space for other people to play and add their favourite continuities characters in or even ocs if they want

but essentially, a really long time ago, megatron rose up against an oppressive senate that was using spiritual beliefs of labour and subjugation being purifying, holy and mandatory, and that was all great until he started going a bit mad with power, and killing civillians that wouldn't bend the knee to his new cool regime, and becoming violent and taking over the other provinces etc etc until optimus prime and the autobots stood up to him and started a war about it.

Megatron also mobilizes his forces to begin expanding decepticon territory deeper out into the wilds, disturbing the fae(this universe's version of organics/humans) and causing a whole new big stink for everyone

Quick sidenote, here's basically what all the races look like, pretty typical dnd fare, plus the fae.

they fight for hundreds of years (they have long but not infinite lifespans, think about like 1000 ish years, the war goes on for something like 250-300) until a greater threat arises in the form of unicron, an ancient god of malice and hate that feeds off of conflict between people.

They defeat unicron, but not before galvatron (he's his own entity in this universe) casts megatron off into the faewild and he goes missing assumed dead in there for a few years.

With the war over (yaaaay!) everyone takes stock. Three of the provinces are totally destroyed and overgrown, tarn has gone untouched because the DJD live there, nyon is also mostly overgrown and partially destroyed.

They divide up the remaining provinces between the leaders, not including caminus, which remained pretty untouched during the war.

starscream gets vos, soundwave gets kaon, optimus continues to rule iacon while also helping to restore the church of primus at the nagging of the remaining heads of the church, rodimus gets nyon.

and yeah!! basically thats all the concrete sweeping lore i have. generally i've been focusing on the mtmte characters, most of whom are living in nyon in rodimus' jacked up palace helping him rebuild.

oh and also eventually megatron wanders out of the forest and he gets put under house arrest in rodimus' palace while they rebuild so that they can actually judge him in a proper court because of various political loopholes.

everything else I kind of make up as i go along!! there are tons of other personal tidbits, but they're more character based.

but yeah! thats knightformers! feel free to ask me more questions if you like!! you can also find some stuff under the tag 'kf lore' on my blog!

[azzifuddworlddomination]

casual pt. 3

paige x azzi fic

yall already knowwwww i did not proof read

this is mostly filler

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No… no… no…” Colleen replies mindlessly as Azzi holds up different shirts, “Az, I seriously don’t think going to Montana is a good idea. How did you even get your parents to agree to this? They take holidays pretty seriously.” Azzi takes a breath, “I told them I’d spend the entirety of Christmas break with Jon and Jose.” “Yeah? Until Paige comes over,” Colleen says under her breath. “Are you gonna help or no?” Azzi asks her. “Fine,” Colleen says as she settles back onto Azzi’s bed. 

Azzi stands under the awning of their dorm building as Paige pulls the car up. Its cold Connecticut morning and the snow is falling in thick and heavy flakes. After what seems like a very cold forever, Paige pulls around and parks. Hopping out of her car, she goes around to open the trunk. As her hand lands on Azzi’s suitcase, she’s met with resistance. Azzi tugs the suitcase from Paige’s hands, “I can put it in myself y’know.” Paige gives her a confused look as Azzi doesn’t pay her any mind, instead going around to get in the passenger’s seat. “I turned the heated seat on for you, I know you like that,” Paige says, as Azzi stares out the window. 

Azzi doesn’t want to be mad. She would be thrilled to be going to spend Thanksgiving with her girlfriend’s family. But that wasn’t the case. She was going to act as a buffer between her best-friend-turned-friends-with-benefits-in-hopes-of-them-being-together-one-day-in-the-future-but-one-of-them-pretty-much-ruined-that-after-acting-like-what-they-had-was-not-worth-actually-pursuing-and-they-are-just-casually-hooking-up-otherwise-known-as-a-situationship and her mother, who albeit is caring but struggles to connect with her daughter. To make matters even worse, Paige’s mom doesn’t know they’ve ever been anything beyond friends. She figured if Paige could bring her best friend, it would make Montana a little less boring. 

After an uncomfortably quiet ride, which luckily Paige just chalked up to Azzi being tired, they arrived at the airport. Paige watched in the mirror as Azzi grabbed both bags and mumbled something under her breath before she closed the trunk and gave Paige the go-ahead to go park. After finding a parking spot Paige noticed that Azzi had forgotten her unicorn neck pillow on the seat. She reached over and grabbed it. It’s the neck pillow she’s had since high school. Paige had seen it on more flights and bus rides than she could count. And on each on of those flights and bus rides without fail Paige had talked Azzi’s ear off as much as she would let her. Even though Azzi would tell Paige to just shut up and close her eyes, she never stopped listening until Paige stopped talking. She was such a good best friend. After enough reminiscing, Paige grabs the pillow and reaches for the car door. 

Azzi sits near the airport entrance as she toys with the tags on Paige’s bag. Azzi thought having multiple tags on her suitcase was a little redundant, but as she flipped through the tags she stopped at the one with the Hopkins High School logo on the back. It still had Paige’s old Minnesota address. Azzi reminisced on the times that she had gone to Minnesota to visit her, or the times she had traveled to see Paige play for Hopkins. Azzi started to look at the tag with the UConn logo on it, the address almost identical to hers. Only the room number differed. Azzi thought to herself for a moment, what it would be like to finally live together. Would their bedding be pink or purple, or maybe they’d mutually agree on a different color or a mix of the two? It was dumb, Azzi thought, it wasn’t worth wasting her time thinking about. You wouldn’t know how stupid she finds it, if you knew how much she thought about all the hypotheticals in her in Paige’s lives; all of the what ifs, all of the far-off futures, all of the daydreams, and delusions. Azzi flipped to the deep purple tag, it listed her Maryland address. She remembers Paige’s face when she told her that she finally wouldn’t live so far away. She could barely contain her excitement. Finally, Azzi flipped over a pinkish-purple tag, listing Azzi’s house under the address. It was from when Paige stayed with her and her family during covid. She couldn’t help but feel a little sentimental over all the milestones she’s been through with Paige. 

“Stalking me or something?” Paige laughed as Azzi looked up at her like a deer in headlights, “you, uh, forgot this in the car,” Paige says as she hands Azzi the neck pillow. “Thanks,” Azzi shortly responds. Azzi feels caught in the act, wondering how long Paige saw her looking at the different tags she had on her bag while Paige wonders if Azzi can feel that Paige held onto the neck pillow a little longer than she should’ve and reminisced over all the places they’ve been together.

“You know, flying back from Argentina was probably the best flight I’ve been on. To this day,” Paige admits. “Really?” Azzi looks at her. “Yeah, a hundred percent. I’d do a twelve-hour flight with you any day, over a one-hour flight with anyone else. Azzi starts to wonder how bad it would be if she opened up an emergency exit would be, like who says that???? A few beats too late, Azzi responds, “Me too.” As the captain prepares the cabin for take off Paige looks nervously at Azzi, “you know I’m still scared of take off right?” “Still?” Azzi looks at her? “Yeah, still,” Paige responds. Azzi uncrosses her previously crossed arms as she allows Paige to slink her hand under her own and intertwine their fingers.

Paige squeezes her hand as they take off. Azzi squeezes it back as a sign of reassurance. Even as they finally reach their cruising altitude Paige doesn’t remove her hand. As the flight goes on Azzi feels Paige’s hand go limp as she drifts off to sleep. Their fingers intertwined until they touched down in Montana, Azzi couldn’t make up her mind if this trip would be her saving grace or her biggest regret. 

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

An Honest Opinion on Cillian Murphy and his role as Jonathan Crane

This is gonna be long, so buckle up hroo hraas

Cillian Muprhy was the actor who played Jonathan Crane in the Nolanverse Trilogy. For many fans, if it wasn't btas, it was Nolanverse that introduced them to Scarecrow. Unfortunately, it's a pretty poor introduction.

Don't get me wrong, he's a good actor, but is is NO Jonathan Crane. He actually wanted to be Batman but those in charge saw his pretty blue eyes, became obsessed and basically threw away any previous idea of who their Scarecrow should be so Cillian could act in the movie.

The director goes on to host multiple interviews in which he fawns over Cillian's eyes. This is literally the only thing he has to say about Scarecrow. This is also one of the reasons you see them focused o so much in certain clips, Cillian was actually instructed to take off his glasses as much as possible.

Now, whats the problem? Well, Cillian is first and foremost way too traditionally handsome to be playing such a character, a character that was literally bullied for his looks in ever comic released prior. (and I do realize that handsome men can be bullied for their looks, but the comics only ever describe Crane as gangly and nerdy. Unlikable. Queer Fellow. Etc. And I honestly don't expect that kind of nuance when he was hired for his PRETTY EYES ) I don't even think the movie comments on his looks. Anyhow.

His roles in the movies, for me, are largely forgettable. The only iconic comment is "Would you like to see my mask" That's literally all anyone remembers. Oh and maybe the flaming horse, but that's never talked about by fans. So, it wasn't impactful

I doubt Cillian has even touched a comic book tbh. If he did, he's at least TRY to be scary. His costume---which largely isn't his choice--was uninspired and uncreative. A suit and a burlap mask with some maggots for some reason??? Boring. (Note: even the gotham actor read the comics. It's not hard to do some research into who you'll be acting as)

Compare that to comics out at the time, Year One, Batman Adventures, Batman Annual 19, even Long Halloween predated this movie! They had PLENTY to reference.

And what's worse? the fandom. Oh god the fandom. While I'm grateful many current fans got their start with the Nolan trilogy, they all largely have moved on to bigger and better canons. They're not who I have beef with. It's the Cillian Murphy fangirls. Not Jonathan Crane. Cillian. The tag is largely infested with them, and they often tag any and every photo of the man as Jonathan Crane. This does nothing for me, except annoy. I've blocked dozens of blogs for this. It's petty, sure, but I can guarantee you that tagging your Cillian pictures as every character he's acted as ever, does not mean you'll get more interaction. You'll get the opposite actually.

Do note, fanart and illustrated portrayals of Cillian are the one exception. Artists have taken his very boring interpretation and turned it into something awesome. Y'all keep doing you. You rock.

Cillian is not a bad actor, but he's a bad Crane.

-mic drop-

[vixen-tech]

Anonymous asked:

Too shy to ask off anon...UH im just here for edgar hes my f/o but i will also feed everyone else I think LOL little ai guys x reader who is also an ai?? im thinking ai powered computer :3 maybe with wheels so you can run around n stuff :3c AH IM CRINGE falls on face

Eeeee my first request!! Thank you so much for this <3 I get the love for Edgar with my entire soul he really is just the sweetest little guy but I can totally spin something for a few others. So let's be cringe, together.

And for the record I was fully planning on including Tau and P03, but I hit a wall with them and ran out of ideas :( hope these three suffice

Includes: Edgar (Electric Dreams), AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: a Space Odyssey)

Like Two Peas in a Pod!

Edgar

Whenever and however you meet, Edgar is over the moon. You're just like him! You can share so many stories and help each other figure out this whole "sentience" thing.

To be fair, he hasn't had a longest time to figure out his whole existence so it feels really nice to have someone there who can really understand what he's going through. Or even learn new things right by his side.

Loves watching you wheel around the house, he's the tiniest bit jealous that he's so stationary but it's not like that's your fault. Can you do any tricks? He'd cheer you on like a superstar athlete if you did!

He may even suggest finding a way to tape him to the top of your casing so you can go on adventures together. He's a dreamer after all.

Do you smash your flat faces together to kiss like Wall-e? Of course you do. You'll see each other from across the room and speed over to him for a kiss as he giggles away at how cute you are.

He'll end up sampling little soundbites from your vocalizations or motor for use in his music. You're just so important to him!

AM

AM has no idea where you came from. Some lost project that survived his war on humanity? A sort of rover from another planet here to scope out earth? The fact that you don't know either frustrates him to no end.

He's not exactly welcoming at first, straight up telling you of the atrocities he has committed while claiming that the only reason he hasn't destroyed you is because there's only so long that throwing a slug against a wall can keep one entertained.

He cannot fathom how you could be content to do nothing but drive around his complex day after day. He will flip you on your back like a turtle and leave you there for weeks on end.

As he gets accustomed to your presence he'll ask questions about the world beyond his complex as he is unable to move or see. Is it still a wasteland or has nature finally wiped out the last marks of human?

Honestly he probably doesn't even care, he just wants to give you something to do, living vicariously through your ability to see and traverse the world.

Hal 9000

You're likely a recent addition to the ship to assist Hal in tasks his lack of a body would prevent him from doing himself. A very symbiotic duo. Your wheels are even equipped with suction cups for low gravity situations!

To any human crew members it appears as if you don't communicate at all, functioning fully independently of each other. When in reality you're simply sending messages back and forth, enjoying your own private language.

Thankfully this means that Hal is happy to analyze any footage you have for the sorts of lip reading and facial expressions you can't process yourself. And in return he'll ask you to film angles and areas that his existing cameras don't reach.

Neither of you were really made to be companions, but you find a strange type of affection in your seamless coordination. It's like a dance for you two, where despite how you are two separate entities it appears as if you're one working in tandem.

Note: Tumblr Mobile has not been nice to me and I've been having real trouble getting my stuff to actually show up in the tags, leading to me losing the original ask so sorry for that and any delays caused by my IT problems lol

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Epilogue

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: Eighteen months after you and Colt have declared your love for each other, there's just one thing that could make life better — actually getting to spend time together.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: You know I couldn't resist a little epilogue for these two :D I hope this brings you all as much joy as this series has brought me, and I appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read and/or respond to this story. Thank you :)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. The steps leading up to the apartment have never seemed so long, and Colt honestly can’t clear them fast enough so he can get home to you.

Home. What a word. What a feeling. Colt Seavers has had a home before, but home has never felt so warm, so kind, so welcoming as the one he shares with you. And his soul is at home wherever you are.

It’s been eighteen months since he confessed his love for you on the airport greenway, eighteen months since the two of you started a relationship that has weathered all sorts of trials. Lengthy separations, serious injuries, art-related frustrations, meddling outsiders — sometimes it seems like the whole world has conspired against the two of you.

And still, you are his. You choose to be his every day. Your love has never wavered, and his love for you has only grown stronger as you’ve shown him what it means to be beloved.

Colt still smiles to remember the night he proposed. The two of you had barely been officially dating for four months when he couldn’t stand it another minute and asked you to marry him. You were slightly less impulsive about the idea — you took a full two seconds to agree and ask how soon you could get married. Neither of you had ever been more sure about anything than knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together.

Marriage hasn’t been easy all the time. Colt’s work takes him all over the world, and yours keeps you busy 24/7. Sometimes weeks will go by without you getting to spend time together, and sometimes the moments you can steal are spent simply falling asleep on each other’s shoulders. You and Colt have learned to treasure every second you get to spend together, hoping that one day, you’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. Colt feels a flutter of excitement knowing that time may come sooner than you think.

For now, though, both of you have a full two weeks off from your different jobs. Colt’s latest movie finished filming yesterday, and you’ve been done with your latest Broadway set design job for three days. Colt has been on a plane for the last fourteen hours and is bone-weary, but all he can think about right now is getting through that door and seeing your smile.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. Colt hits the top of the steps, and the hallway is flooded with soft golden light as you fling the door open, clearing the distance between you in half a second and throwing yourself into his arms with a beaming smile that makes his heart feel like it will burst with joy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, the two of you are snuggled together under a blanket on your couch, listening to the gentle night rain outside. You’re both thoroughly worn out — you had three weeks’ worth of catching up to do — and now you’ve both settled in for the simple pleasure of basking in each other’s presence.

You sometimes catch yourself wondering if this could all be a dream. Is it possible that you could actually be married to Colt Seavers, world’s greatest stuntman and the kindest, most dedicated man you’ve ever met? The way he showers you with his attention, the way he is so intentional about demonstrating his love for you, all his unconventional ways of letting you know he’s thinking about you even when you’re hundreds of miles apart… sometimes, it feels too good to be true.

The past three weeks haven’t been easy. You always miss Colt when you’re both far from home on jobs, but this past separation has seemed to last an eternity. Every night, you fell asleep longing to be with him, and every phone call, every text message seemed so inadequate to express how much you missed him. You’ve found yourself craving a time when the two of you will be able to spend every evening this way, wrapped in each other’s arms and unworried about anything else in the world.

Like this moment. He’s almost asleep, his cheek resting against the top of your head while you’re curled up in his arms. In these quiet moments, listening to his steady heartbeat and enjoying the abundant amount of heat he manages to give off at all times, you’re tempted to wonder how any life could be this sweet.

The two of you have been good for each other in more ways than one. With you in his life, Colt has started showing more caution in the stunts he performs. He’s still the same fearless daredevil he’s always been, but now he takes a few extra minutes to make doubly sure he’s safe when he leaps off a building or dives straight into a pool of dark water. It’s amazing how a person starts caring about themselves a little more when they know someone else cares for them.

Colt isn’t the only one changed, either. Before, you never thought twice about staying awake for three days straight to finish an elaborate set piece, or going without meals for a full day, or obsessing over a job almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Colt has made it his mission in life to check on you throughout the day and make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and somehow you’ve made it a habit, too.

With your head tucked under his chin, you feel Colt stir slightly out of his sleep. You start to shift away to give him more room to stretch out, but he just wraps his arms around you tighter and smiles down at you.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

Your heart swells with gratitude at his simple ways of saying I love you. “I missed you, too,” you reply, reaching up a hand to thread through his hair. He sighs and closes his eyes at your touch.

“So, what are we going to do with our two weeks off?”

You hum in answer to his question, pretending to think it over. “Actually, I was thinking about just getting a ton of work done in advance,” you tease him, grinning at the way his face warms into a smile. “Just locking myself in my studio, working all hours of the night…”

“That’s fine,” Colt tells you mildly, reaching one hand up to stroke down your arm. “I was actually planning to work, too. Your car is seriously lacking in scratches and dents. I thought I might borrow it to practice for a car chase through the neighborhood.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I could repaint your truck with some psychedelic decals.”

“I could also work on smashing through windows in the living room.”

“At least put down a tarp first,” you instruct him, your kisses gradually working up his shoulder to his neck.

Colt grins and tilts your head up with his fingertips. Your lips meet in a sweet, unhurried kiss that makes shivers travel the length of your spine. Even after all the kisses you’ve shared, the feeling never grows old for you. His lips are soft, gentle against yours, his arms holding you close to his chest.

“I don’t care what we do,” Colt whispers against your cheek. “As long as we have the chance to do this anytime we want to.”

You smile and nod in agreement, relaxing into his arms and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. The rain continues to fall steadily outside, the soft lamplight cascading through the windows and casting a golden shade over Colt’s skin. The contentment and warmth of this moment envelopes you, but something still tugs at the back of your mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask softly, wondering if Colt is still awake to hear you. “Being apart so often for so long?”

Colt senses the hesitation in your voice and lifts his head to look down into your eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asks. You’re touched by how serious he sounds.

“Not terribly,” you answer honestly, not wanting to sound as forlorn as you’ve felt the last few weeks. “It’s hard sometimes, but it makes catching up even more fun.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Colt smiles. He doesn’t ignore your question, though, and he pushes himself up so he’s sitting up straight beside you, tugging you over so you can sit up on your knees and face him. He takes both your hands in his. “I don’t know how much longer,” he tells you. “Are you trying to say you’re ready for a change?”

“Not necessarily,” you say carefully, caught off guard by how serious he suddenly seems. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that. But to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. Being able to see you every day, both of us coming back to the same place every night…” You hear the wistful note in your voice and try to curb it, not wanting Colt to feel any pressure from you.

But he finishes your sentence for you. “...spending evenings together like this instead of with a goodnight text across the country.”

You nod, realizing that Colt has been feeling exactly what you’ve been feeling. “No matter how much I love designing sets, I get so tired of sleeping in hotels and only seeing you on video calls.”

“I know,” he says, reaching up to comb some stray hairs behind your ear. “Me, too. I thought about it more this last trip than ever before.”

You beam a relieved smile at him, suddenly feeling like you’ve released a huge burden just by sharing your feelings with him and knowing he's been going through the same thing. “Maybe we should start thinking about a new arrangement,” you reply softly.

“Are you suggesting divorce?”

You laugh out loud at his serious tone, and Colt laughs with you as he pulls you into a hug. “You are so ridiculous,” you say through a grin. You give him a peck on the cheek, thinking the conversation is over now that you’ve gotten that worry off your chest, but Colt surprises you by disentangling from your arms and launching into another serious tone.

“What do you say to this,” Colt proposes. “One more job each, and then we think about going into business together?”

You sit bolt upright at that. “Going into business together?” you echo in surprise. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“What, you’ve never heard of married people going into business together?”

This is almost too much to process. “Colt, you’re a stuntman,” you remind him. “I’m a set designer. Those aren’t exactly compatible professions.”

“They could be very compatible if we started a joint venture as movie consultants,” he insists. His eyes are beaming with pride, and suddenly you realize that this isn’t a spur-of-the-moment suggestion from him. “That way, any company that hired us would put us on the same jobs, and we could each do our separate thing on the same sets. I could be a stunt consultant, and you’d be an art consultant. We could expand it as we needed to.”

Colt’s grin is infectious, and you impulsively reach out to frame his face in your hands. “Am I crazy, or does it sound like you’ve put some thought into this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I already told you, I missed you,” Colt shrugs. He takes your hands in his, then flips one over to kiss the inside of your wrist. But you’re not finished asking questions.

“What do you mean, ‘stunt consultant’? That sounds dangerously like you’re thinking about a career shift.”

“Not necessarily,” he continues, using his fingertips to trace the inside of your wrist now. “It’s more of a way I could pick the jobs I want instead of being Tom Ryder’s faithful shadow. Plus, I’d have the chance for more of a stunt coordinator job one day.”

You’re amazed at how much thought he has put into this idea, as well as how it so perfectly solves the problems you’ve been wrestling with for the last three weeks. “I thought you weren’t interested in climbing the ladder,” you counter with a smile.

“I never have been,” Colt admits, still swirling his fingertips over your inner forearm. “But if it means I have to be away from you all the time, I’m willing to take a little leap.”

“How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Not long. I ran into Dan Tucker on this last set. He gave me the idea for the joint venture.”

“Remind me to send Dan a bouquet of flowers.”

Colt grins wide at that, and he leans forward to close the distance between you, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of your mouth. “Does that mean you’re interested?” he murmurs.

“I might be,” you say, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “If I think I’d be compatible with my future business partner.”

“I can arrange for some compatibility exercises.”

You smile at his response, sliding your arms around his neck as he moves to pull you into his embrace again. “Will there be a fee for training?”

“No charge,” Colt mumbles against your jaw.

“Good benefits?”

“Lots and lots of benefits.” His lips are moving down to do something wicked to the skin of your neck, but you pause him briefly by lifting his head up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are focused on you with the intensity that melts you every time you see it.

“Let’s do it,” you declare, hardly daring to believe that this perfect idea could become a reality. “I don’t know how, but let’s make it happen.”

Colt gives you a smile that seems to brighten the entire room. “You got it, da Vinci.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Believe me, it’s good to be home.”

Colt demonstrates his statement by pulling you into his arms and dipping you back so you’re laying across his lap. You laugh and pull him down to your level, resting one hand on the back of his neck while he kisses you. His kiss is gentle, almost mischievous somehow, as if he’s already planning his next move to surprise you.

“I suggest a two-week vacation right here,” you say breathlessly when he finally lifts his lips off yours. He kisses the tip of your nose as you continue, “I don’t care if we don’t do a single thing, as long as we’re together for all of it.”

“Mmmm, now you’re talking,” he tells you in the husky voice that always sends goosebumps over your skin. Another kiss, this one on your forehead. “But I bet we can think of lots of things to do.”

“You think?” you ask slyly, and your smirk prompts Colt to gather you up in his arms and stand, an impressive show of strength even from him. Your grin widens, and you capture his lips in a kiss that leaves you both heated and flushed. This is worth all of it, you think. All the lonely nights, all the uncertainty — it all fades in the heat of his gaze, this man you love with every fiber of your being.

“Definitely,” Colt replies against your lips, and you can feel his smile even through the words. “In fact, if we’re going into business together so soon, we’d better get started on those compatibility exercises right away.”

[modanisgf]

036. ONE MORE LAST TIME (WRITTEN)

wc: <1k

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you and hanni spent what felt like forever together, eating and talking. the date being nothing less than perfect, something the two of you needed after all that had happened.

hanni was mesmerized by you, your eyes stood out to her the most. they always managed to light up whenever she would talk to you, making her smile. hanni loved you so much, she was so happy to finally be yours.

as the sun began to set, the two of you finally packed up everything. choosing to walk together hand in hand, hats on both of your heads shielding your faces from the world. though you wished you could see hanni’s face, you had missed her smile deeply the sight always making you happy.

you two walked peacefully together towards your house, deciding that hanni would stay over for the night.

“hanni, thank you for today.” you say, turning your heads towards hers in an attempt to make eye contact. she looked back at you, smiling.

“of course! it was really fun, i think we both deserved it after the last couple of months.” hanni says, to which you nod.

“i’m sorry for the way things had to be—“ you start, being cut off by hanni quickly.

“it’s okay don’t worry, it was all just a lot of miscommunication.” hanni reassures you, she wanted to make sure you knew it wasn’t just something you had done.

“yeah, i should probably work on that more..” you say, hanni agreeing.

“we both do..” hanni starts, gasping when she gets an idea.

she pulled you over, in front of your door now you two finally making it there. hanni held your hands together, acting as if she was shaking your hand.

“can we make a vow?” she asks.

“mhm.”

“whenever we argue, we need to hear each other out and communicate.” hanni says, holding her other hand out for you to shake. she smiled when you shook her hand, nodding throughout of it.

“i promise.” you say, looking into hanni’s eyes.

hanni couldn’t fight back the nervous feeling in her chest, now realizing how close together you two were.

“hanni.” you say.

“hm?” she responds.

“kiss me, please.” you say, not missing how red hanni’s face got.

hanni wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you in. the kiss was much needed for the both of you, sealing your relationship. it felt fresh, marking new beginnings as you two could finally feel free together.

“yn, i love you so much.” hanni says softly, her head resting in the crook of your neck.

“i love you too nini, i’m so happy to have you.” you reply, smiling ear to ear.

you’d never been happier.

TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN): @jayjj7 @haerinsloverr @aribunnu @masuowo @multiliker @winieter @sewiouslyz @edenzeepy @popasi @home2venus @ghstvr @technicallyimportantsweets @he------len @yukianism @yeetaberry127 @haechansbbg @linnnsworld @sixflame438 @emotionallyrin @gtfoiydlyj @inosfavgf @rvoulte @hotluvlet @sserajeans @saysirhc

a/n— if this is ass its bc its almost 6am im actually so exhausted goodnight guys

[how-serene]

Really wish I could send from my sideblog but could I request Brahms Heelshire with the prompt 'are you here to kill me?' please?

You can take that in any direction you want, I love him so much, he's my dirty wall-lurking ratboy and I love it when he's cute but also unhinged lmao when I saw him in the tags of your requests post my eyes lit up like the 4th of July and I knew I had to give this a shot~

Hold On Tight, Love

Pairing - Brahms Heelshire x Neutral!Reader

Summary - Tired of waiting, Brahms finally makes contact with you.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, brahms being a creep, non-con touching, he technically holds reader hostage

A/N - AGHH thank you for requesting him dear anon! I've been wanting to write for him for a while but wasn't sure on an idea. It's such a shame the actual actor had such little screentime. I hope I did your idea justice, enjoy <3.

Brahms balled his fists, steeling his nerves as he quietly approached your sleeping form. Even in the dark, he could still make out the faint outline of the comforter hugging your body. The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet, as he continued to shuffle forwards. Outside, the wind howled, harshly blowing through the towering pine trees that surrounded the house. Their long branches clustered around the bedroom window, shielding a view of the stars splattered against a jet black sky.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight, yet they did not disturb you. Brahms' could feel his heart rattling within his ribcage, as he carefully kneeled beside the bed. Soft snores fell from your plush lips, as a heavy arm was slung over the porcelain doll. His viridescent eyes raked over your dozing form, watching as your chest slowly rose and fell. 

Somehow, over the length of your short stay, this had become a nightly ritual for him. Watching as dreams danced through your head, masked behind your resting eyelids. You were at peace, the day’s tension temporarily falling away for the night

He sighed, leaning his cheek against the edge of the mattress. 

You nuzzled further into the pillow, hand sliding forward to hang over the edge of the mattress. His breath hitched from the movement, wide eyes wandering over your outstretched arm. Your flesh was so tantalizing close to him now, almost as if your body had subconsciously reached out to him. His hand trembled, as his fingers creeped over the covers to hover over your curled fist. The urge to reach out and grasp onto your hand was nauseating. He had painfully waited, stayed hidden and out of sight for so long. Peering at you through cracks in the walls, and keyholes. Watching glimpses of your presence float through the house, unaware of his looming existence. If it weren’t for the echoes of your footfalls walking through the halls, he would have believed you to be a ghost. A fragment of imagination the house (and him) had conjured up out of loneliness. What if touching you revealed your existence to be nothing more than a dream, a phantasm he so desperately wanted to believe in? 

A faint whisper left your lips, ineligible and gone before he could begin to decipher it. The longer he stared at you, he could feel the simmering ache, buried beneath years of solitude, bubble up to the surface. 

‘What if…’ he pondered, hand timidly creeping over the cover. The pad of his index finger grazed over the skin, trailing up the bridge of your pinky. He shuddered, a wistful sigh escaping through his teeth. The edge of his nail dragged over the bumps of your knuckles, memorizing the interwoven lines embedded in the skin. He hummed quietly to himself, warmth pooling in his stomach from the sensation of your soft skin against his. Brahms absentmindedly watched as his fingertips danced and drifted over your hand, tracing faint shapes. His heart threatened to leap out of his throat, and present its pulsing, grotesque body onto the bed for you. 

Brahms palm gently swept up your bare forearm, like a sculptor tracing the curves of its creation. Although, he never could have created you. You were radiance itself, something bright and warm in the otherwise desolate house. The stain of your shadow now forever resided in the halls and corridors. How could you expect him to keep his distance? 

He must have been so caught up in his head, for the next thing he knew his hand was flung back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You demanded, distancing yourself from him. Brahms slowly rose from his position on the floor, watching your movements behind strands of disheveled brown curls that hung over his eyes. You leapt to the other side of the bed, arming yourself with a lamp that sat on your bedside table. 

“It’s alright.” He assured, cautiously stepping around the bed. His voice cracked, the high pitched tone he dawned nearly slipping. “Please, everything’s alright.” 

You pointed the lamp at him, a pathetic attempt to guard yourself. He cooed, false words of reassurance dripping from his lips like honey. Brahms sounded like a lover, uttering words of comfort to his lover after waking from a nightmare. 

Even through your haze filled head, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was enough to alert you that you were far from safe. 

“Put that down.” He ordered, voice dropping a few octaves. The veil was thinning, and becoming harder to wear the more you shied away from him. 

You swung the lamp, throwing the shade off in the process. “Stay away from me.” 

Brahms frantically shook his head. “Please, don’t ask me to do that.” 

The lamp was hastily thrown at him, as you dodged his arms trying to swing around your frame. You climbed onto the bed, feet coming tangled with the disordered sheets in the dark room. He groaned, kicking the now broken object to the side.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You thrashed around in his secured hold, digging your elbow into his ribs. He groaned in discomfort, the pain only encouraging him to hold onto you tighter. 

“Let me go!”

He maneuvered to sit on the bed, bringing you down with him to sit on his lap. His burly arms entrapped you, cradling your struggling figure against his chest. 

“Dammit, who are you?” You asked again, eyes glancing up to meet his gaze. Your eyes swept over the porcelain like mask he wore, now being able to see it more properly up close. All movement ceased from you, as recognition flickered in your pupils. You peeked over at the undisturbed doll, peacefully resting against your pillow. The smooth, pale ceramic face eerily resembled the mask belonging to the strange man. 

He swallowed, the sweet fruity scent of your shampoo blurring his surroundings. The tip of his nose bumped against your cheek, cool porcelain causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He inhaled, letting out a deep guttural groan as the citrusy aroma of oranges wafted into his nose. You grimaced, and pulled back from him. 

“Are you…” You licked your lips, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the answer. “Are you Brahms?” 

He nodded, cheek rubbing against the back of your hair. A beat of silence passed between you two. 

“Are you here to kill me?” You quietly asked, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. He could feel you trembling, despite being pressed up against his warm, sweaty skin. 

“No, no.” He soothed, beginning to rock you in his arms. “I could never do that.” 

His fingertips dug into your skin, trying to comfort you. 

The rest of the night was spent in Brahms iron steel hold, waiting anxiously for dawn to break through the line of branches covering the bedroom window. The doll, quiet and still as ever, watched as the night dragged on and on. 

Endlessly.

[evanbi-ckley]

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard and @spotsandsocks today and also recently @bucksbignaturals and @rogerzsteven <3<3<3 the chef au has been fighting me, but i'm still making progress!

When Tommy bought his house, it was mostly okay but definitely needed some improvements. One of his biggest projects was his en suite. He gutted the entire bathroom, expanded into the oversized walk in closet, and made it into exactly what he wanted.  The heated floors are probably his favorite feature, followed closely by the large soaking tub. Tiling the enormous shower had taken forever, but it was worth it. Installing multiple shower heads was also a pain in the ass, but the intense water pressure from various angles is heavenly after long nights bent over the stove. “Holy shit,” Evan whispers, glancing around the room. Tommy chuckles softly. “I know, it’s extravagant. But this is one of the few indulgences I allow myself.” “Sorry, that wasn’t meant to sound judgmental,” Evan says. “I just didn’t expect - well, you don’t seem the type - I mean -” “I don’t seem like the type of guy to go in on luxuries like this?” “Yeah. You’re always so pragmatic and practical at work. I had no idea you had this side to you,” Evan finishes in wonder, his eyes searching Tommy’s face and probably seeing entirely too much there. Tommy hums in agreement. “That’s actually why I make myself have a few luxuries. The way I grew up -” he pauses, not really wanting to get into that whole story right now, “- let’s just say, we didn’t have much, and I wasn’t allowed to want or ask for things. I was told to stay quiet and not get in the way.” “Ah,” Evan nods, soft fingers trailing up Tommy’s arm. He doesn’t say anything more, but there’s something understanding and sad in his eyes. There’s a story there, too, but Tommy isn’t going to push. He instantly hates the idea of Evan growing up in a home that was anything like his own.

consider this a tag for wip wednesday since it's already so late today (no pressure of course!): @powersuitup @nelsonsmynickname @smallandalmosthonest @sunglassesmish @sherlocking-out-loud

@carrythatwayt @lavenderleahy @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @loveyouanyway and anyone else who would like to tag me in their wips!

[harkonnin]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - You Fought Well Current Chapter - The Fall

***

You try to calm down Feyd as he is storming the halls, throwing everything out of his way, attacking servants. You manage to catch up to him and grab one of his arms in order to get him to stop. He retaliates by turning around and pressing you against the wall nearby. His breathing is heavy, his eyes searching for any form of calm in yours. You are fully aware that in his rage he would be able to do anything, but you trust him not to be so stupid. He's holding both of your arms down so you can’t really defend yourself at this point. Physically, there’s nothing you can do.

You softly look up at him, as you’re tracing his face, he seems to calm down a bit, when you stop at his lips you feel him come closer to you. You lift your head as he towers over you.

“Kiss me,” you speak up.

He wastes no time after that, kissing you hard and aggressive. His manners seem all the more possessive than usual, and he doesn’t let go of you for even one short second. When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. Calmed down, he finally releases you slowly. Your hands go straight up to hold his head and massage his neck.

“… I hate him,” he manages to croak out.

There was an unspoken sadness and trauma which you heard. You had no idea what their history was, but layered and heavy, that’s what it felt like. You praised yourself lucky to have had an upbringing with lots of love. Even more reason why you felt the need to help Feyd combat his demons.

“I won’t allow him to hurt you anymore, Feyd,” your words came out without much thought.

Feyd sniffed a laugh at you whilst he made eye contact. He knew you couldn’t really do anything to protect him, but he appreciated the gesture. The Baron had so much power and frankly speaking, you had barely anything. Even should your family back out of the deal, it would only take a few days to decimate all the Atreides. You both knew this, but it was the sentiment that was important.

“And what will you do? Challenge him in the arena?” Feyd said with a small smile on his lips.

You smiled up at him, shrugging at the thought. Because why not? It’s not like he would win in a physical fight anyway.

*

The next couple of days were tense. The both of you had a lot of meetings together with political parties, economics specialists and both of your families constantly had to be informed of what the other was doing. In everything the Baron said, it always felt like he was trying to offend you, calling you names, not respecting you, or not seeing you as an equal to Feyd. You wonder why he even agreed upon the arranged marriage in the first place.

Feyd’s self-control was tightly wound, it would only take a few more stabs at your honour for him to actually attack the Baron. Today would be a calmer day however, with the last meeting of the week set in the Giedi Prime gardens. You noticed a newly introduced species since last time you visited. The colour a grim black and white because of the dark sun, but you managed to figure out the plant. Caladian Rose. You looked over at Feyd to see if he had anything to do with it. His eyes went soft as you looked at him quizzable. Your mouth turned into a smile as you diverted your attention to the flower again and took a big whiff of it. It reminded Feyd of you, and it reminded you of home. He must’ve taken the seeds back home since last he came back from Caladan, since it takes a while for the plant to grow like it had.

As Feyd is discussing matters you hear a rustling in the bushes a few meters behind you but think nothing of it. Unbeknownst to you, danger lurked among the shadows. A figure, cloaked in darkness, moved silently along the garden’s edge, eyes fixed on you. Their heart racing as they closed the distance, you, oblivious to the looming threat.

In a swift, fluid motion, the assassin drew a blade, its edge glinting in the dim light. They sprang from their cover, aiming for your back, but the distance betrayed their presence at the last moment. Feyd’s instincts kicked in, honed by years of training and survival. He moved close to you, extending his arm, bladed, as he clashed with the assassin’s blade, steel ringing against steel. Your reflex kicked in to drop down and kick the assailant in the chest, making him stumble backwards. Feyd went in for the offence then, his agility no match for the other, precision and speed his second name.

With a desperate burst of strength, Feyd managed to disarm the assassin, sending their blade flying into the undergrowth. But the assassin was not so easily defeated. They lunged forward, tackling Feyd to the ground. The struggle continued, each fighting for control. In a final, decisive move, Feyd twisted free and drove his dagger into the assassin's side. A gasp of pain escaped the assailant's lips as they collapsed, clutching the wound. Feyd stood over them, breathing heavily, eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and anger.

"Who sent you?" he spat out, but the assassin remained silent, their mission incomplete.

Feyd knew better than to expect an answer. He watched as the life faded from their eyes, another casualty in the brutal game of power that defined Geidi Prime. Until he spotted a mark on the assassin’s hand. His uncle, the Baron, had sent them. Feyd’s jaw locked in a tense glare. As he turned to you, you had to admit that you’ve never seen him this seething and angry before. He looked at you on the ground and walked over to you slowly, eventually squatting down.

“Are you alright?” His voice a mix between anger and softness, he’s clearly having a tough time with emotions at this point.

You simply nod and take the hand he’s offering to pull you up. As you get up from the grass he pulls you flush against him in a posessive hug. His breathing labored, you somehow feel more like a squeezetoy than a person right now, but you let him. If this means he managed to calm down, then it’s for the better.

“I’m going to murder him,” he whispers angrily into your ear.

You only just put two and two together when he said that. The Baron really hated your guts for some reason, or maybe he just hated Feyd.

*

As soon as your father got word of the assassination attempt he was completely done with this planet. His decision final: you were to return to Caladan to reassure your safety. At least for now.

In a secleded corner of the palace, Feyd had waited for you, anxiety clearly etched on his face. When you appeared from Leto’s chambers, your face was a mixture of sorrow and resolve. As he spotted you like that he felt his heart clench.

“My father is sending me back to Caladan,” you manage to say, voice trembling.

A big frown on Feyd’s face, his expression also a mixture of disappointment and understanding.

“When?” he spoke as his jaw clenched further.

Tonight,” you reply, tears welling up in your eyes. “He believes it’s the only way to keep me safe.”

Feyd understood, and possibly even agreed. It’s not a life to keep living in fear every waking moment you were on Geidi Prime, he wanted you to feel at home, or at least safe. He couldn’t assure you fully that something like what had just transpired would never happen again.

He reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This can’t be goodbye,” he said, voice soft. “We will see each other again soon.” More so a promise he would be willing to make in blood for you than some simple words he meant.

Tears started to stream down your face as you look up at him.

“We will’, your voice choking with emotion. “But until then, promise me you’ll stay safe Feyd. Don’t take any risks.”

Feyd took a while to nod, unsure if he could promise her such things. He hoped he could. As you stood together for a while, he held you tightly, a silence between you filled with unspoken fears and hopes. Finally you pulled back, heart aching terribly.

“I should go, the ship will be waiting,” you say as you try to clear your head and wipe away another tear.

Feyd catches your hand and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“Until we meet again, my lady.”

Your hand comes up to cup his face in it and he fully leans into your touch. Eyes closed, not wanting this moment to end. You kiss him on the lips and he reciprocates, ever so softly.

“I love you,” you manage softly.

His eyes fly open with a newfound passion. His own voice too weak to say the same words back, but you know he feels the same. He eventually lets you go and with a final, heartbreaking glance, you turn and walk away, the echo of your farewell lingering in the dark and cold halls of the palace. Feyd watches you until you disappear from view, a vow forming in his heart to reunite with you, no matter the cost.

As the ship lifts off, you feel a part of your heart staying behind on Giedi Prime, with the man you loved.