#tried to keep them in line with how i imagine he'd portray them

[princema-k]

ha ha ha wheeeee

(individual smaller expressions under the cut!!)

bonus:

if a total of Two (2) people are interested i will ramble abt my hcs abt layton's emotions REQUIREMENTS HAVE BEEN FULFILLED!!! check here for my rambles :)

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hii!! I love your writing sm like you’re literally my go to blog when I get bored and I end up rereading your fics 😋. Not sure if you have rules or anything so idk what I can and can’t request (IF YOU DO AND THIS ISN’T IN LINE WITH IT I’M SO SORRY.. 😭).

Could I request the harbingers crushing on reader? Like I can imagine them being slightly more lenient with reader which confuses most of the soldiers. Again feel free to ignore this 💗‼️‼️

(giggling and kicking my feet rn, this is the type of partially-satirical fluff I headcanon. Hope you like it)

✦ When they secretly have a crush on you

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

✧ The ever-cold and impeccable Pierro – a mystery that even his associates and top harbingers cannot decipher. Not many can be considered as his close confidants, so none is certain of his personal life and preferences. A cold, stern man like The Jester probably doesn’t waste a glance on frivolous affairs or pleasantries. Even if many high-status people tried to approach him - aristocrats, business partners, or noble ladies; his cold gaze shuts off any initiation for close relations. No, he sees their greed for power too clearly to be swayed.

Yet Pierro harbors a deep secret. He does fancy a type… and that type is you.

It’s not simply your physical attributes or style, his ���type’ is literally everything you embody. The shape of your jawline when you lower your face, the delicate shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks, how your chest moves when you take a deep sigh. From the minor and inconsequential attributes, he memorized it to his heart until the only thing his gaze is seeking is you across the room. He was always silently enamored, his eyes watching you with reverence. However, he is a mastermind, first and foremost. Concealing his inner sonnets for his love for you came naturally just as he conceals half of his face with a Khaenri’ahn mask.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious. Nervous, even. Facing off the most powerful man, cursed with immortality just as you all those centuries felt intimidating, especially when you couldn’t grasp why his gaze kept lingering so melancholically.

“It is… good to see you again, Pierro,” – that was your initial words when the two of you spoke formally. In truth, your mind was filled with wistful thoughts: he probably settled down with someone after 500 years of immortality.

In the meantime, Pierro’s mind was at comical odds with his cold exterior as he thought: Hmmm… Yes, I’ve already decided on the name of our potential third child.

But of course, he didn’t say that, even if he looked slightly mesmerized. Instead, he just settled with a polite: “A pleasure, indeed”. It's only a matter of time before he accidentally slips and calls you his spouse in front of people.

✧ Il Capitano was avoiding you like the plague, and you couldn't fathom why. Whenever you crossed paths, his oppressive silence would intimidate you further. He would linger behind you, a looming presence so quiet that at times, you’d forget he was even there. Alas, when you finally muster up the courage to approach him directly, he'd respond with the briefest of words, avoiding any attempts of chatter.

It infuriated you. So much so that you started wondering if perhaps you did something wrong. He sparred with you countless times, the taste of a battlefield is nothing foreign when he trained alongside you. You felt like a stranger. Why he was so eerily silent was beyond your comprehension, and alas, his pitch-black expression did not portray any facial clues on what he was thinking.

The truth of the matter is that Capitano has mastered the art of keeping his head impassively still. With a helmet on his face and lack of visage, no one sees his gaze ogling your form whenever you train. Your movements mesmerize him during battles, your legs swift and your stance is powerful. Of course, he would be silent when he is staring directly at your beauty in action. You rendered him speechless, and now the Harbinger is diverting himself by discreetly peeking at you. Thank the archons for his helmet hiding his gaze.

But the Captain scolds himself. No, he mustn’t! It is improper of him to even lay his eyes upon a being so diligent and strong as you, he must respect-… Nope, his head is automatically turning towards you anyway. Lost in his silent battle of self-reprimand, he didn’t notice you suddenly approaching:

“Captain, we need to talk. What is the reason for your cold shoulder towards me? If I have done something improper you must tell me… You always avoid me, even when we’re supposed to cooperate.”

The same characteristic silence followed him, however, seeing you cornering him so sternly, even the Harbinger had to drop his resolve.

“...You must forgive me. Your beauty had overwhelmed me to such an extent that I felt ashamed to admit how you rendered me speechless to approach you.”

✧ A long time ago, before Il Dottore bore the title of a Harbinger, there was a young boy named Zandik. This little Zandik was trainee Dastur, a prodigy of his field and academic year. But he wasn't the only top student of the Akademiya, in fact, this young man was standing in the shadow of a brilliant senior student whom he always looked up to with innocent wonder – you.

You weren't aware of the younger student with short turquoise hair trailing you. He, however, was aware of you because your portrait often graced the accomplishments of the establishment, thesis research, and any academic honors of the top young researchers. Since you were a senior, Zandik couldn’t share lectures with you, yet it didn’t stall him. Every thesis bearing your name, he read; every book you borrowed from the House of Daena, he memorized meticulously. His revenant studies of everything you did mesmerized his young mind, leading him to linger behind the lecture hall doors, drawn to where you so often spent your time.

It was a harmless habit, the boy believed; surely you never noticed him?

One day, Zandik spotted you chatting with your peers in the hallway. Unfortunately for you, you inadvertently left behind your precious notebook, forgotten in the rush to your next class. The young man didn't have it in himself to run after you and directly return it. Instead, it was his chance to study your secrets. His hands hesitated only briefly before he grasped the notebook, feeling the weight of the handwriting he so admired.

When he first opened the notebook, the first page read in massive writing: “I KNOW YOU'RE STEALING MY NOTES – THIEF.”

That was approximately 400 years ago. So much so that the memories of your student self were long forgotten in your mind. When you later on met the 2nd of the Fatui Harbinger, you expected the Fatuus to coerce you for cooperation. To demand you to leverage your expertise in Khaenri'ahn technology, or perhaps blackmail you into his maddening cause. But none of that transpired.

The grown man, now known as Il Dottore, stood blankly in front of you, eerily placid. His once youthful awe had matured into something far more inscrutable, like a long-buried sincerity breaking through his Doctor’s mask. Without a word, he extended a hand, offering you an old, tattered notebook. It was that same old notebook from your Akademiya days.

“... Huh? Where did you get this?”

“Perhaps a young boy was too excited to pilfer what wasn't his. I apologize for borrowing it. That boy never wanted his idol to think of him as a thief. If it wasn't so arduous to seek you out all those centuries, I would've returned it to you earlier.”

✧ With his face perched on his knuckles, Scaramouche sat down listening to your ramblings. You would think a Harbinger with his temper, would long since exhausted his patience, waving you off to scram from his presence. Yet the moment you start talking, he is obediently listening, like a devoted man waiting for his blessing from the Grand Narukami Shrine

“But I never saw you enjoy any snacks or drinks while you’re out,” – you mused with excitement, launching on a tangent about this mysterious Inazuman beside you. “Oh! How about this, I’ll start guessing your favorite pastime food or beverage and you tell me if I am right or wrong.”

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, but crossed his arms indifferently - “A futile endeavor but suit yourself anyway.”

Undeterred, you accepted the challenge. You listed each and every single delicacy in Teyvat that you could recall, from Inazuman mochi, dango, and sake to even Mondstadt’s Cold Cut Platter and wine. The Balladeer only scoffed, amused at your silly attempts to deduce him, as if he was some mystery you should decipher.

“Ugh, Okay! My last attempt. Is it… green tea?!”

Scaramouche went silent at the sight of your anticipation - “Hm,”

“No way… did I guess correctly, at last! Are you a herbal tea enthusiast? Oh, I knew it, I knew it!”

You exclaimed with unattained joy, leaving the Balladeer to silently observe your self-proclaimed victory. The truth of the matter is - that wasn't the correct answer. Scaramouche doesn't care for any teas or snacks, not when his artificial palettes found human indulgences to be redundant. Yet, looking at your jubilant face, glowing with delight as if you’d uncovered some profound world secrets, he couldn’t bring himself to confess. How foolish.

“Hah, fine, you got me. You must be thrilled to guess something so mundane.”

“Well, maybe mundane to you, but I was pretty curious what a living puppet would prefer to drink.”

Your sudden words caused Scaramouche to freeze. He never told you he was a puppet by nature, and most people would never guess what he is. Yet here you were, stating it so simply and obviously. Most ridiculously, you didn’t seem crestfallen by the weight of this truth. “You knew…? I'm not sure if I should compliment your keen observation, or if this is another one of your random guesses. What gave it away?”

“I thought it was obvious.” - you eased a sincere smile, your hand reaching to carefully brush a stray hair on his head. “No regular human would have such a perfectly pristine face like yours. Even if they had the most luxurious face-care routine.”

If puppets had blood flow, there would've been a pink hue dusting his cheeks. It seems he was the fool here after all. Ever since that day, he has found the taste of green tea to be rather soothing.

✧ A popular misconception about Pantalone is that he allowed you to walk into his life and pursue him so easily. Trully wrong. In reality, it was this Harbinger who had been pursuing and courting you from the very beginning - like a lovestruck fool, no less.

At first, Pantalone tried to be the charmer. He’d offer you heavy bags of Mora as if it was pocket change and say in his best alluring voice - “Go spoil yourself with something new, dear. I want you to look your best on our next date.”

The issue was you were dense like a rock. Because you blinked at the mora and said simply: “Why? I already have comfortable clothes, I don’t need any right now.”

He wanted to slap himself. Any attempts at spoiling you with riches or gifts were futile, especially when you humbly rejected his monetary help out of casual practicality. You always stated that others in need would require it more. Very well, he won’t sulk just yet. He decided on his next act of refinement. He’d invite you with him to any luxurious events: galas, opera performances, dinner parties; all carefully orchestrated to impress you, showcasing how he can provide you with any wonder from the world, linking his arm elegantly with yours to flaunt how you’re accompanying the 9th of Fatui Harbingers himself.

That didn’t work as well. Whenever a business meeting occurred with vital connections, your gaze bore no interest in the wealth of the higher class, nor did you beat around the bush to dismiss yourself. Instead of marveling at the company of riches and endless champagne flutes, he’d instead find you marveling at the ducks swimming in the pond of a garden – “Look, duckies!”

Pantalone was in visible distress. All this gold that people die for yet you so naively dismissed him. Was he unworthy of your simple love? Was he too pompous for you and forgot his own origins? His self-doubt gnawed at him at night, so much so that his own subordinate would see him pacing in his office with a tremor of restlessness, thinking how he should open this topic with one he so openly treasures.

“My dear, please tell me what your heart seeks,” – he once opened the discussion with you, his hand clasping yours in an act of pleading. “I do not wish you to be uncomfortable with my actions. Just say the word and I will bring you what you want.”

Once more, you blinked at him in that same sweet innocence, but instead, you spoke with a smile: “Oh, you silly, silly man Pantalone. I never wanted your mora or status. I do not wish to be indebted to you, no. I just wish you to be as you are. If you want to take me to a restaurant, take me there, not because it’s a fancy establishment, but because it has your favorite food. Plain and simple.”

The young Harbinger didn’t know it was possible to fall in love even more. It seems he mistook your humble sincerity with naivety, never once pondering that perhaps you didn’t want a partner for the sake of connection or money. That being his true self was something he could even offer you.

In the upcoming days, Pantalone’s subordinate could clearly see was smitten beyond logic or reason. Like a grinning child, resting his chin on his palm when sitting behind a desk, feet almost kicking with excitement. He really was enamored with you from the start.

✧ If there is one thing Tartaglia’s heart relishes, it’s the rush of a challenge. And you, as a whole, challenged this young man on a daily basis. His bubbling persona and eccentricity to rush into action was an antithesis to your blunt calmness and reason. If he is the one launching into battle, you are the one who is yanking him by the collar while maintaining that unimpressed look.

Thus, as a challenge, Childe took it upon himself to make you break that serene attitude from you. At least once, and his heart will soar with victory. Unbeknownst to him, everything he did fumbled.

He started with cheesy attempts to flirt with you, flipping his ginger hair back while leaning on the wall with a captivating smile to make sure your eyes were on his form alone. It might have made you swoon, if he hadn’t miscalculated and leaned against the door instead, stumbling awkwardly when it swung open.

Another attempt was made when he tried to play the savior. The two of you were strolling when a Hydro Hilichurl Rogue stumbled upon your path in the wild, its makeshift scythe warning you two to get away. For the Harbinger, this was an easy opportunity to dispel such a puny target and save you. Except the Hilichurl Rogue kept throwing hydro slimes, which his vision of the same element was useless against. You managed to drag Tartaglia (almost) unscathed.

Everything was going against Tartaglia’s luck and he felt like an utter failure in front of you. He’s the 11th, for crying out loud, he always fairs well when something challenges him. Yet here he is, getting bandaged by you after fumbling countless times in your presence. Your first impression of him must be beyond salvageable at this point.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you’re a problematic teen who gets into trouble all the time. Because you sure act like it,” – you stated to him simply. Securing his cuts and bruises on his shoulder.

“If I confess that such accidents rarely happen, would that change your opinion of me, or is it too late to start from zero? Ouch-” he winced when you tightened the bandages, his bruises not alleviating the sensation. The culpability of it all made him sulk, realizing he was probably putting you into trouble with all his shenanigans. “I’d die for you, you know.”

“That is the dumbest thing I've heard.”

Your words were concrete, his gaze averted with guilt and sorrow. But you continued quaintly.

“Why would anyone say something so senseless? I don’t want you to ‘die’ for me or anyone, even. What about ‘keep living’ for someone? For me… for your family, for yourself. Anyone can blindly plunge themselves to their death, but it takes actual courage and strength to keep living for those you care about. So please, do that for me instead of getting into trouble.”

The once serious expression on Tartaglia's softened with each word you spoke. Now he realizes that perhaps you putting up with his impulsivity stemmed not from frustration, but out of sincere worry. Maybe in his attempt to charm you, you were the one charming him all along. Especially when you sit so close to tend to him, it would feel so natural to wrap his arm around and embrace you.

“You’re right… I suppose it is reckless. Living for yourself seems truly priceless if it means seeing you beside me for another day.”

[stephaniebrownslover]

Guys I have an idea.

What if I made Jeff The Killer like BoJack Horseman???

Guys don't leave please guysssssss it's so dark hereeeee

Okay now that I think about it, I'll ramble about this a bit.

Either I'm on to something or on something.

Also BH characters as creepypasta characters random BoJack Horseman dialogues as Jeff under the line and how other pastas would react.

And the only Jeff portrait I like is @jeffthekillerzblog 's Jeff because he's like a real life :3

THEIR FIRST TWO LETTER IS SAME THEY'RE THE SAME

...

GUYSSSSSSS TOBY AS TODD JUST IMAGINE

Lol just kidding but I think Toby and Todd would actually get along. Like they would just chill around and build random shit and talk about nonsense stuff. Their silly goofy traits are kinda similar so they would understand each other most of the time. Great minds think alike.

Okay okay let's talk about Jeff Horseman stuff before drifting away the topic.

First of, I think BoJack Horseman is not a character do defend. Yes, he tries to fix his mistakes but it was too late for him. He needed to change before all the shit happened. He needed to go to rehab or therapy before.

I'm not saying it's all his fault but just look at Diane. She had her own trauma and even though she was feeling bad most of the time, she wanted to get better. She worked for it in time instead of BoJack.

Yes, BoJack is a traumatized character but Todd was right about "You can't keep doing shitty thing and then feel bad about it!" because BoJack did this always.

Now back to Jeff. He has a similar trait with BoJack. I think Jeff has BPD most likely and he has serious anger issues. That's not a good mix as you can guess. It causes him to make mistakes and hurt people he actually gives a shit about and even though this makes him feel bad later, he won't do anything about it.

He wants to change, he wants to apologize from Jane and Nina and Liu. He wants to be a better person. He hates this life he build but he's been in this hell so long that he doesn't know a way out. He thinks it's too late for him and for treatment after all the people he killed and hurt.

Just like BoJack but in a different way.

BoJack hurts people close to him mentally and Jeff hurts people close to him both mentally and physically.

They both doesn't want to live their life and they would rather be like anyone else does.

They would hate each other if they met because they would see the other as a mirror. Or something like they could be in an another universe. And this would scare them as hell.

Jeff might be a surface character but I think that's because of his creator portrays him. I have like/hate relationship with him because of how badly he portrayed in almost every work.

He was not a pure evil monster, he was a 13 year old kid with untreated mental issues and body trauma. And no one was there to teach him this was not right since this motherfucker is very stubborn and he killed everyone who could.

Both of them doesn't want to die no matter how shitty their life can became. They want to live. They want to see the next day even though they would hate it. They think they deserve to live after all the things they had gone through.

They want to believe that they have a chance for redemption without caring about their past mistakes.

Also if Jeff would be an animal, he thinks he would be a wolf but he'd actually be a horse. That's like his spirit animal.

Take random BoJack dialogues as Jeff and other pastas' reactions to that.

...

Jeff: Rehab was supposed to be a fresh start. But no matter how many starts I get, there's always the same ending. Everything falls apart, and I end up alone.

Clockwork: Then get a new life man, this shit is not that hard.

Jeff: Shut up bitch! I'm having a moment here!

...

Jeff: Same thing that always happens. You didn't know me. Then you fell in love with me. And now you know me.

Nina: Eat shit and die asshole. You ruined my life.

Jeff: Fucking let me apologize whore!

Nina: Okay. I'm gonna kill this bastard. Don't hold me!

Kate: No one's holding you.

Nina: I said don't hold me!

...

Jeff: I'm the one who has suffered the most because of the actions of Jeffrey Woods.

Jane: What about Liu or Nina or even me?

Jeff: Nah, Liu's fine and he hates you.

Liu: No, I don't.

Jeff: He doesn't know what he's saying. And Nina loooves me.

Nina: No I don't!

Jeff: She's high on my awesomeness.

Jane: Shup the fuck up you dumbass.

...

Jeff: There's gonna be plenty of people around when I kill myself!

Masky: Not me.

Hoodie: Nah, I'll be there to celebrate.

Jeff: I hate all of you.

...

Jeff: Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die.

Toby: W-who the hell are you?

Jeff: Yeah, you're right.

Toby: I am?

Jeff: Nah.

Toby: Of cour-se I am.

Who wants part 2 for incorrect quotes??

[inneedofsupervision]

I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 5)

Happy begrudgingly steps aside and walks after Tony into the diner. The billionaire skillfully ignores the gasps of surprise and the poor attempt to take pictures of him secretly as he strides straight up to the counter. "Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go." "Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir." "Excuse me?" Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register. "Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath.Happy makes a choking sound behind him.

Or, how Tony Stark gets sassed by some high schooler working part-time and makes it his mission to figure out what he did to make this kid he'd never seen hate him. If that means annoying the hell out of said high schooler, that's not his problem.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Chapter Summary: Something unexpected happens while the team's at the Avengers Compound.

Read on Ao3.

"Anthony Edward Stark, what did you do?"

The man in question jumps as the door to the conference room bursts open, giving way to a furious-looking Pepper Potts. Tony pulls at his tie, loosening it with a roll of his eyes before turning around, face morphed into a wide apologetic smile.

"Pepper Virgina Potts, you cannot imagine how delighted I am to see you. Is that a new blouse? It looks magnificent."

"Something's wrong, Mrs Potts?"

Tony turns to glare at Steve, the latter raising a single eyebrow before gesturing for him to look at his fiancee. Tony's head reels back, facing Pepper. Her lips form a thin line, pressed together firmly as she tries to suppress most of her anger and keep a professional face.

"Ten bucks, Tony screwed the pooch," whispers Clint behind his hand with a snicker. Natasha's lips tug upwards at the corner. Tony turns with a glare, pointing a finger at the archer.

"Shut your mouth, Legolas. Mommy and Daddy are talking."

Clint grimaces at the comment but kicks his legs up the table. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back to enjoy the show.

"Feet down, now."

Clint's boots are off the table in an instant.

Tony smirked at how quickly the archer cowered at his fiancee's words. One glance at Pepper makes him realize he did not have the privilege to laugh, as he's currently the main target of her wrath. The man quickly schools himself, setting up his best placating smile. "Darling, although incredibly smart, mind reading isn't on my list of traits, so tell me what I can do to get you to relax again."

Pepper crosses her arm over her chest, eyes narrowing.

"Don't you dare try to tell me to relax when you caused the press to run wild and SI stocks to go into an all-time-deep in a day, Tony!"

Sam whistles. "That's almost impressive. What did he do?"

Tony turns, glaring, pointing his finger at them. "The peanut gallery is closed for today. No clever comments coming from any of you, capiche?"

The rest of the team keeps quiet as they watch Pepper scolding the man whose shoulder sinks further as the strawberry-blond woman asks him if he has completely lost it.

"Pepper, darling. Please, whatever I've done, the PR Team can manage it," he tries, but Pepper is having none of it.

"You know what, tell me if they can," says the angered woman. She glances towards the ceiling. "Friday, if you would be so nice."

"Of course, Miss Potts."

The flatscreen at the wall turns on, all heads turning towards the live broadcast playing on the big screen.

"Is that the Tower?"

Steve leans his arms on the table, brows furrowed as he stares at the drone footage playing, showing a side of the well-known building, thoroughly covered in black and white paint.

"What even is that?" asks Sam, who tilts his head in confusion.

Tony's mind is blank. His building got used for some crazy idiots canvas to portray their juvenile act of rebellion or whatever that imitation of a zebra on crack is trying to be, and he finds out about it in the news.

His Tower.

Full of paint.

"Friday, volume up," he snaps, jaw clenching in anger.

The voice of the news anchor raises. Every person in the room has their eyes on the screen, where a camera zooms in on the large image of a quadrat filled with black and white rectangles that overtake most of the glass facade.

"A statement regarding the allegations is still pending from Stark Industries. The burden of proof will be challenging for the concern to sweep under the carpet; the video has already been shared over a million times and is spreading like wildfire on the Internet. It shows SI owner Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, in a dispute with a minor working part-time at a fast food store. The huge QR code painted on the Stark Tower with graffiti spray, which is scannable even from several miles away, regained the attention of the video a thousandfold."

The camera focuses on the reporter, who now takes out her cell phone and opens a QR-Scanner, demonstrating how the code causes a link to a video to pull up.

"How in the world did someone paint this on a building? Doesn't the lines have to be perfectly straight for a scan to work? That's honestly impressive. Hey, don't glare at me. You are the one who caused that if the lady on the TV is right," defends Sam himself when the billionaire throws him a bitter look. Before Tony can tell Sam to shut up, he gets shushed by Natasha, who watches with interest as the video begins to play.

"Good luck to your PR Team," comments Clint, grimacing in unease when Peter Parker's voice echos through the conference room, begging to keep his job.

"Tony, how could you do that to a kid?"

Tony is ready to throw his drink at Steve at the disappointment that drips from the man's voice while the blond's face shows a hint of anger.

"I got framed! This kid is pulling your leg. He's acting," Tony tells them as he points at the screen, but the image of him leaning over the counter of a specific fast food chain, holding onto the arm of an employee who begs him not to get fired, doesn't help much to convince his fellow teammates. Tony doesn't know if the news channel or the person uploading the video has pixeled the kid's face and laid a voice modulator over the sound of Parker's voice to keep his privacy. What he did know is that the caption under the video didn't help make him look less like a grade-A douchebag.

"Tony Stark getting high school employee fired from a part-time job. Damn, Stark. That's low even for you," states Sam, shaking his head.

Tony could tear his hair out in frustration.

"I told you, the kid's acting!"

Steve, who had stood up from his chair, puts a hand on his shoulder on his way out, having seen enough.

"Maybe you should stay out from the next few missions until it's settled."

Tony blinks at him in disbelief.

"You're kidding, right?"

Steve pats his shoulder.

"We all have bad days, Tony. But this isn't the way. Get this sorted out, and you're back on the team."

The others follow soon, walking out of the conference room and leaving Tony with a still frowning Pepper.

"Steve's right, Tony. You have to get this sorted out."

She gives him a last look before also walking out of the room.

Tony runs a hand over his face, a tired sight leaving him before telling Friday to turn off the TV. His knuckles are turning white with how hard he's balling his hands into fists as he stalks around the room, mind going miles a minute. A million and one questions are running through his head, questions he couldn't answer, and that drives him more mad than the fact his tower got turned into a memorial of his failure to keep his cool. Why didn't Friday notify him someone put a hand on the Tower? How did they paint the facade of an eighty-story tall building?

Even though there were many questions without an answer, Tony had a hunch about who was behind all of this. Who had to be behind this petty act of revenge?

On his way out, Tony checks his reflection in the glass door, pulling his tie straight.

"Friday, give me the kid's location."

It's time to go looking for Peter Parker.

[aurumacadicus]

What are you procrastinating?

Steve and Tony techy spy au?

*waves hand at... everything* Eh.

Anyway I'm feeling some okayish-dad Howard and stupid boys. But when am I not feeling stupid boys 🤔

Steve isn't about this whole... high-tech stuff. He's been doing this spy thing for years without even a smart phone. He doesn't want all these newfangled gadgets that take up space that could be filled with extra bullets instead. Sure, the key-reader had come in handy, but he also could have just kicked the door open in the same amount of time. He tries, though. He knows the world is getting more reliant on tech, and while his flip phone and motorcycle are enough for him, espionage is advancing to heights he never could have imagined. Plus, it genuinely helps that he always looks a little confused when he does anything tech-related. Most people think he's too stupid to know how to upload viruses and key loggers. He's gotten a lot more on board with it now that Tony is working in the labs, though. Tony is bright, and he always smiles wide as he explains exactly what his inventions do. So maybe Steve leans into being a neanderthal a little bit, just so he can get some extra attention as Tony makes absolutely sure he understands how everything works. His life depends on it, sometimes! He needs to know this stuff! And sometimes Tony leans in, one long line of heat against the side of Steve's body, and Steve is grateful he actually knew what Tony was talking about because all he could think at the time was 'Tony Tony Tony Tony' and he took in nothing.

Tony is, unfortunately, untouchable. Peggy is the head of the organization, but there are several others under her who wield almost as much power. Howard Stark is one of them. Steve had thought he and Howard had a pretty good rapport. They would get drinks after work, sometimes even eat lunch in the commissary together. Howard liked the work Steve did, and he also had a soft spot for older technology like Steve. They got along. But then one day, while they were taking their trays to one of the tables to sit at for lunch, someone said, "Have you seen the ass on that new guy in tech? Bet he's tight as a--" and Howard wordlessly slammed his tray into the guy's head with such force that it bounced off the table. "My son's ass is as tight as what?" Howard had asked mildly, as if he had not cracked his tray in half, and the surrounding three tables had scattered. Steve had wanted to run, too, but he'd pretended he understood Howard's reaction and how obviously he'd made the right decision. No one should be talked about like that, least of all a sub-director's son. After lunch, Steve had immediately gone to a payphone three blocks away and left all his friends messages to please god please don't tease him about how much he's talked about how sexy Tony is at work Howard will murder him Agent Malloy got a concussion please.

It's not like Steve is special, anyway. Tony is enthused about one thing only: Technology. Part of the reason he got the job was because Howard was tired of being pestered to show things to Peggy for him. Howard had cleared a path for him to force his way into Peggy's office and show off his stuff firsthand and that had been that. (Rumors said that Peggy was still aghast that Howard would allow Tony into a situation where he might be shot by his godmother, but both Howard and Tony showed a distinct lack of care for their safety, so. Maybe there was truth to the rumors.) So being an idiot about technology is the only way that Steve can get his attention. He think it's probably not the best way to endear Tony to him. Tony probably wants someone he thinks can keep up with him, anyway. Steve portrays himself as sort of a dinosaur when it comes to tech. Surely someone who didn't "need" to have things explained to him in very small words. Besides, active field agents were discouraged from serious relationships. It's always possible that they might not come back, or that their significant other would could be used against them. He wouldn't be Tony's first choice, and Tony probably had the good sense not to get involved with an active field agent. (Or if he didn't, Howard had probably scared the majority of them off. Agent Malloy had been the first creep he'd used his hands on. He hadn't been the last.)

Tony is absolutely, embarrassingly, and obviously in love with Steve. He thinks Steve is so sweet. He doesn't understand a lot of high-tech stuff, but he's so earnest when he asks questions, Tony doesn't even mind taking time from other projects to give him explanations. He wants to make sure Steve knows as much as possible so that he's less likely to get hurt. Steve has a sweet smile and he's literally heard him say 'aw, shucks.' He kinda wants to take Steve to bed and make him learn new swears. Steve's basically the only one Howard has good things to say about, too. 'He's a polite young man who would never gossip about how good his boyfriend is in bed,' he'd said. Tony... isn't actually sure why his dad felt the need to tell him that? But he appreciates it. He had his time as the college bicycle and while he's maybe not ready to settle down, he's ready to test the waters, date around. Maybe with Steve, if he could ever get Steve to catch a clue. Every time he hints at a date, Steve starts babbling frantically about someone named Agent Malloy? Tony only met him once. He thinks the guy's on medical leave, maybe. Maybe he's more Steve's type, Tony thinks in disappointment.

"...So you were just making fun of me," Tony says, hurt, after Steve has cracked the code on the digital cuffs he'd been bound with. "When you asked me how things worked." "I just liked listening to you talk," Steve admits, embarrassed, and doesn't meet his eyes. "I'd listen to you read the dictionary. You at least seemed to like talking about tech." "Aw," Tony begins, and then grabs Steve's arm and yanks him down with a scream. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" "What?! What!?" Steve shouts, but then Tony is gathering him to his chest and holding a taser threateningly. "Who are you threatening I can't see Tony oh my god." Howard adjusts his grip on the wooden beam he'd found to use as a weapon. "If I have to watch this comedy of errors for one more minute, I will beat Steve to death." "What are you fucking talking about?!" Tony splutters, at the same time Steve wails, "NO I SAW WHAT YOU DID TO AGENT MALLOY WHEN HE WAS TALKING ABOUT TONY'S ASS!" In the end, Tony has to use a prototype bondage device to disarm and bind his dad so he doesn't kill Steve accidentally club them both and Steve is so in love with him. He's so smart and beautiful and kind. "He is not kind," Howard barks from where Steve is carrying him like he weighs nothing. "Look away Tony. I don't want you getting ideas about his biceps." "It's too late. I had them the first time I saw him training newbies in the gym," Tony retorts, and Steve has to fumble around with Howard as he snarls and gnashes his teeth.

[thereallucifer666]

Lucifer, in contrast, was perfectly at ease, though he really had no reason to be. Most people wouldn't be anywhere close to comfortable letting someone drink their actual blood. But then, he wasn't exactly 'most people' anyway, so it hardly matter to him in the long run.

What mattered was James intrigued him, as did the knowledge of what he was. Before when he'd been on Earth, Amenadiel had always been too quick to find him and force him back to Hell for Lucifer to really explore the more supernatural side of things here. Staying with humans, partying and having sex with them was always the easier option. And it kept him mostly out of trouble with his elder brother. If Amenadiel caught him sticking his nose in the more otherworldly things, he'd assume Lucifer was gaining support for another rebellion.

Not that Lucifer had any intention of doing so, given how fantastically horrible the first one had been. But Amenadiel didn't know that. Even if Lucifer told him, he probably wouldn't believe him. He's assume Lucifer was hiding the truth from him, assume he was evil and plotting and conniving as always.

And as much as he told himself that didn't bother him, he tried not to think about how much it would hurt to not be believed.

Lucifer listened to James with an unreadable expression, neither portraying consent or repulsion, merely listening to his reasoning. It made sense, in the same way that Lucifer preferred his whiskey not to be chilled. A personal preference, really, and with a liquid as thick and cloying as blood, he imagined it cold might be a rather unpleasant sensation on the palate.

Again, the fact that this was a normal strain of logic in his brain that most people would recoil from never even crossed his mind.

"I suppose that's fair enough," He said, twirling the dagger around his finger once more before shifting in his seat and setting the dagger on the table for a moment. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, rising momentarily to drape it over one of the chairs before retaking his spot. As he undid the first top few buttons of his white shirt, he said, "Though I must insist you try your hardest to keep it neat. Though I don't lack for money, cleaning blood out of Italian leather and/or my Prada suits is not something I wish to deal with."

He pulled his collar aside once he undid his top buttons, taking up the knife once again. Tilting his head so his right ear met his shoulder, he brought the tip of the dagger to his neck, careful to avoid nicking any major arteries. Maze would have a field day if she found him bleeding from his carotid. He gave those a wide berth as he cut a line horizontally across the side of his neck. He held back a wince as the skin split and blood began to well up from the incision, the only sign of discomfort being a sharply exhaled breath. With barely a second look, he tossed the dagger back onto the table and gestured to James. "I'm all yours."

Devils Blood

[straighttohellbuddy]

you make me hate this city {Dream}

Summary: They/Them. A series of moments. Any publicity is good publicity, right? Well accidentally falling into beef with arguably the most popular Minecraft streamer in recent memory certainly keeps you relevant. But as time goes on, you realise more and more that staying relevant isn't the most important thing in the world.

A/N: 3009 words. i gotta stop adding 'i dont know what this is' to my authors notes but also i don't know what this is. i was listening to Happier Than Ever, but also OverHeated has better vibes for this fic. im actually incredibly happy with this one, like deadass a fan of my own wording lmfao. please let me know what you think. also i wrote this on my phone and welcome to 3.30am ive lost all control of my life.

Warnings: choking imagery but nothing actually serious.

Citrus Scale: 🧡 ORANGE 🧡

You blew up by accident, but isn't that the way it always seems to go these days?

---

"Wait, who? Dream, no I don't know who that is," you laugh dismissively, "contrary to popular belief, I don't know every online personality in Florida; it's a big place... why would I know a Minecraft youtuber? That's the kind of content that gets millions of subscribers on YouTube now? I thought we moved passed that."

In hindsight, it was kind of a shitty thing to say, and despite the fact that you'd been thinking of what you knew of the gaming community in the past few years, it still came off as arrogant. Usually you weren't one to portray yourself as arrogant online, you'd come to be known as something of a Zeitgeist of online society, your mind had been elsewhere at the time. You didn't know Dream, didn't realise he was much bigger than you'd been assuming, at least not until you'd woken up to his reply on twitter.

It had been deleted before you'd even properly seen it, probably only minutes after he'd posted it, but there were screenshots aplenty.

[incredibly bold words coming from a tiktok influencer 🙄🤡]

Your notifications were a bloodbath.

---

Despite your private apology, acknowledging what you'd said was out of line considering your own line of work, and his apology in response, admitting that he should have known better considering how rabid he knew his fans could get, there appears to be some hostility between the two of you. Publicly, that is.

It was all for show, though that was just between the two of you. The peanut gallery that was your audience paid good money for a fight like this, not that you'd ever voice that thought out loud. Considering how far apart your demographics were, and the size of your respective audiences, the way you two would interact kept you both relevant. Whether they were intrigued about the person antagonising their 'fav', or looking to clown on them, you both got a nice boost in numbers for each scathing interaction you'd shared online.

The people you had aligned yourself with socially ate it up too.

But something about their approval left a sour taste in the back of your mouth.

---

"It feels disingenuous," you huffed over a call with Dream, right after he'd posted a new Manhunt video to his main channel, "its a good video," you grumble.

"So don't send the tweet," he yawned, "or do; don't not tweet it if it's for my sake, I know you actually like my videos thats all that matters."

You press your lips together but hit send on [imagine posting essentially the same video 8 times,,, couldn't be me].

"You know I do actually think you're creative, right?" You tried to assure him.

"I know," and his voice is fond.

---

The city is fucking suffocating you and everyone's watching.

You feel like you'll be publicly hung for being genuine; getting famous on TikTok of all platforms has always felt a bit like that to you, but it didn't start getting constricting until all you want is to love and support creators outside of your bubble, outside of your shared demographic. The heat of early Summer is in your lungs, is choking you from the inside out.

And there have been times where you've considered running, considered never logging in again, driving until you're at a gas station two states over and gasping for air in a town where the people don't recognise you. You could stay there, if you really wanted, you could live in quiet obscurity if your heart really desired it. But it's its own kind of disingenuous.

[what if i drive until my wheels give out and then just stay there forever?]

[do you want company?] His answering text surprises you, and suddenly you can feel your heart beating in your throat. You ask if he's serious. He tells you he needs to get out of the city for a bit, even a few hours.

There's too many eyes in the city. On the road there's just his.

He's in your passenger seat and you're in your head wondering if this a fever dream, a mirage from the steadily growing summer heat. Maybe if you look directly at him, he'll disappear, so you don't, just incase. He opens the window, breeze catching in his fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking at you for a moment. Part of you wants to thank him for his company; this is the first time when you've wanted to run, when you've actually had a reason to come back. Don't think too hard about that.

You want to thank him for the company as there comes a lul in the conversation, but the wind rushing past you steals your nerve. You stay quiet, and turn up the radio.

The afternoon is growing late. Soon, you will head back. For him.

---

So you lay on his bed on your back, staring up at the ceiling, dead silent as you hear him talking and laughing with his friends as he streams. If you make a noise, your cover will be blown, you'll ruin this good thing, this ruse. The evening is sticky hot but the faint breeze is sweet. Looking over, you take a moment to admire his profile, aglow in the light of his monitor, beautiful in the warm haze of the night. Something twists in your gut, and you look away quickly, a little overwhelmed with the moment. So you stare at his bedroom ceiling, laying atop his covers, listening to him laugh, and you stay quiet.

---

He likes several tweets about the latest rumour about you; apparently you're an industry plant. No-one is quite sure which industry, but they're sure you're a plant. One of your stan accounts posts a screenshot of the tweets he likes, commenting [those in glass houses 🙄🙄] which you like. It's routine. It's a game. That night, the two of you spend an hour driving around as the sun sets, windows down and music blaring; your grip on the steering wheel is tight and his hand is on your thigh. You don't talk about what happens online. You don't talk about a lot of things. The light from the sunset is flattering for you both; people would say you're pretty together, picture perfect together, but no-one's allowed to know.

---

You attend parties, dressed to the nines, and you send him a photo from your bedroom before the night even begins. His response is sweet, but he doesn't dare interact when you post photos online a little while later.

[wish you were here] you send from the party as the fake laughter and constant camera flashes begin to grate on your nerves, [nothing feels real]. And after waiting a few minutes and getting no response, you put your phone back in your bag, plastering a grin on your face. Smile for the camera, its what you do best, it's how you got here.

When you feel your phone buzz, when you see he's simply offered an alternative, for you to come over and spend the rest of the night with him, you give your first genuine smile in hours. But someone catches it in the back of a photo, or perhaps a video on an Instagram story, maybe both, and everyone wants to know what had you smiling so brightly, why you'd made such a quick escape from the party after.

[only smile I've seen them give without dead shark eyes] Dream himself quote retweets someone's screenshot, and your lip curls in distaste at that. It's business, but it hits too close to home. You want to reassure him that he makes you happy, but it feels too honest, too raw. So you bite your tongue, keep quiet, give a snarky response online with your head in his lap.

---

"No I don't have thoughts about Mask -" your lip curls derisively. You've been listening to it on repeat. "What makes you think I spend my time thinking about Florida Man?" He'd think it was ironic, think it was amusing; you'd hear it before it had been released, sitting on the end of his bed, chin propped up on your hand as you beamed at him. He seemed pretty nonchalant as he'd asked you what you'd thought, but as you'd given a gentle, adoring sigh that spoke volumes on its own, you'd seen the way his posture had relaxed, the proud little smile he'd turned back to his monitor to hide.

"Everyone's a musician these days I guess," faced with the invasive reporter, you rolled your eyes.

---

The people you call friends because you know you should hide the way they look down on gaming, on streaming; it's good for clout, but it's not like it's a real job. Don't they get that none of your jobs are real? Influencers are the lucky, pretty few, famous for existing at right place at the right time. You didn't expect this. You didn't grow up wanting to be on display like you are now.

They think you'll join in on their scorn, and though you've got your public beef, of course, you're heart hasn't been in it for a long time.

"Its clown on clown violence," you'd muttered darkly, glowering into the frypan you'd been put in charge of. Sapnap, cutting vegetables beside you, sorts a laugh, and asks what your friends would say if they could see you now. Quiet now, you focus on the sizzling pan before you.

"They'd think you've been a bad influence on me," you murmur, expression scrunching up. Becoming friends with Sapnap was inevitable, and was amusing to the rest of the world; taking a liking to your perceived arch-enemy's best friend was a delightful twist of fate.

After a long moment of silence, with only the gentle cooking noises to fill the space between you, he tells you he likes you better offline. It might be one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to you.

---

Florida is better than LA, socially, but not by much. There's less influencers per capita. Small miracles.

The nights feel long here, but maybe there's too much on your mind for you to get to sleep. You post on your IG asking if anyone was awake and nearby. Predictably your DMs are flooded, but you're not sure what you're looking for, what you want. A few other sleepless friends respond, asking if you wanna meet up, make some impromptu content. Everything about you had become monetised, even your insomnia; everything tastes sour as you read through their messages.

But Dream texts you asking if you want to go for a drive. You don't even ask where, you just say yes.

You're in your pyjamas when he picks you up, but then again so is he, brightly patterned cotton shorts against the fancy leather seats. There's already music playing when you curl up in the front seat, some songs you recognise, some you don't, but it's enough to keep your thoughts at bay.

Streetlights glowing rose gold along the highway, you don't care where he's going. Even in the dark, when you turn to look at him, you can catch the serious, pensive look on his face.

You want to tell him you love him, but you can't open your mouth.

He drives up the coast in the dark, until the sky and sea begin to turn lilac beyond the windows. On a lookout near a town whose name you don't know, the two of you sit on the hood of his car and watch the sunrise. He's got his arm around you, resting his head against yours, and for a moment, you close your eyes.

"I wish I could tell people how happy you make me," your voice the thought that had been plaguing for months, and Dream holds you a little tighter. He turns, in that moment, and presses a fond smile against your temple, followed by a kiss.

After a moment, you pull out your phone, and quietly ask if you can take a photo of the two of you. He hesitates, but only for the barest moment.

"Who am I gonna send it to; Sapnap?" You asked, though the moment may be more revealing than you'd intended, as the realisation flashes through your mind that the two of them had somehow become your closest friends, and perhaps the only two friends you honest felt like you could trust.

But it's enough to convince Dream, whose smile is half hidden with the way he's resting his head against yours, the two of you warm and full of joy in the light of the sunrise. Something about the photo has your breath catching in your throat.

You make the photo your phone background. He doesn't comment, but when you glance to him, you can see how wide his smile is.

---

The change is gradual. Bit by bit you force yourself back to being the person you started out as, the person you were offline, the version of you that you actually liked. It's the return of authenticity, of doing the things you actually enjoyed instead of whatever was on trend.

You didn't go to parties if you didn't like the people. You stopped making content with the people you knew were just using you for clout. You let yourself find joy in the work you did.

The people who mattered in your life respected it, applauded it, encouraged it. It felt good to laugh on camera and mean it. The uptick in followers may be from how genuine you were now being with the content you made, but with each day, you found yourself caring less and less about the numbers. It was freeing.

---

"I love you."

He says it first, late at night, for no reason that you can see. You'd been in his kitchen, one earbud in and video pause as you were whisper-ranting about how Tommyinnit didn't deserve the shit he got online-

"- he's good kid, and damn funny too! If I hear someone shittalk him in real life, I don't know, I feel like I'd start biting people - or maybe I'm biased, or need sleep; what time is it? -"

"I love you," and he's giving you this adoring look that had the words dying in your throat as you process the moment. He's sitting on his kitchen counter, wearing your merch hoodie, looking like something out of a dream you'd once had. Then, softly, finally, you find your voice and the words you've been longing to say;

"I love you, too."

His smile grows a touch wider, a touch fonder.

And you wonder where it came from, somehow without seeing how long the moment had been coming.

---

You agree to be on podcasts because the concept intrigues you, and happily and candidly admit that your shift in branding, in tone, in vibe if you will, was down to one thing; love.

And yes, finding someone was the catalyst, but it was realising that you didn't even like who you'd become that had been the driving force behind the change. You wanted to be able to love the content you created. You wanted to be able to love the version of yourself you put out into the world.

But the only thing the audience cares about, of course, is the revelation that you're in love.

---

[has enough time passed? am i allowed to admit publicly that i simp for @dream]

"Babe!" Comes shouted from the next room over less than thirty seconds after you post your tweet. The comes your boyfriend, practically tackling you, grinning from ear to ear as he bemoans how there's no way he can respond to that without giving anything away. You're cackling with delight at his dilemma, before pointing out that unless it was spelled out, no-one would be able to guess at the truth.

In the end, he quote tweets your post with [on your enemies-to-lovers arc i see].

---

There's an afternoon where you fall asleep on his sofa wearing one of his merch hoodies, one of his personal ones, oversized even on him, that had been tossed to the side but still clean enough for your liking. He'd been trying to get a cute and not-blurry photo of Patches in some of the new pet-merch, but she wasn't interested, clearly, preferring to trot out to you, curling up, radiating purrs by your stomach as you napped.

The photo he takes doesn't have your face in frame, but if anyone looked hard enough they could probably make an educated guess as to who was in the photo. There's something so soft about it, about how Patches was blinking happily at the camera as her little paws came to rest on your arm, warm and comfortable in the afternoon light.

"Patches, my beloved," you mumble groggily as you crack an eye open. It takes you half a moment to take in the scene, but you seem content to brush off her apparent favouritism by telling him that the hoodie smells like him. Your half asleep mind meant it to be an explanation for the cat's behaviour, but as you close your eyes again, you miss the way he goes vaguely pink and endeared, as you bury yourself further into the hoodie as best you can.

When you wake properly, you give your blessing for him to post it to Instagram. But the thing that catches you off guard is that he's made it his lock screen.

---

"Accidentally shittalking you might be the best thing I ever did," you murmur, tracing his features, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. He laughs, and your fingers follow the curve of his cheek. Like this, he is beautiful, and he is yours.

You want to tell him you love him, so you do.

[prime-wars]

howabout -- drift :^3

for those of u who dont know my nickname in our tf server is stage iv drift liker so im afraid uve just turned the key on pandora's box

favorite thing about them: drift is the kind of person who is constantly kicked down and beaten up by life and just refuses to stop living. and im not just talking about his early life in the dead end im talking about how drift joined the decepticons to help make cybertron a better place for people like him only to eventually realize that the decepticons had entirely abandoned that cause halfway through the war and he'd just missed the memo. and instead of giving up and defecting he stays with the decepticons and throws himself fully into the war to try and end it so that they Can start building that better cybertron that he was promised. and then that doesnt work and he ends up abandoned on theophany and he meets wing and ends up forging a better life for himself and learning to heal from all the shit thats happened to him. and then the decepticons show up and the one person he'd grown close to since megatron ends up dying because of them - because of him, because they'd shown up because of him. and instead of giving into the complete and utter despair of that reality, he goes on thru sheer force of will. he joins the autobots and becomes close to rodimus and they make this plan to just say fuck it to cybertron and go out to live their lives without having to deal with the likes of prowl breathing down their necks. and then he watches rodimus trip and fall into prowl's manipulations anyways, and still sticks with him, and works night and day to keep the crew from finding out, to the point that when the overlord thing inevitably blows up in their faces he takes the fall. and so again he finds himself losing the person he's closest to - both of them, since he's now being torn away from ratchet after finally getting to be around him after 4-something-million years. (oh, and also while he was going around on the lost light he ends up finding out that the rest of new crystal city ended up being destroyed and all its inhabitants have disappeared. just one more piece of his life that he's lost.) and still he forces himself to go on. he makes a living out of bounty hunting, even if it isnt much of one, and finds some kind of purpose to fulfill in saving the lives of those who cant save themselves. and then ratchet comes to get him and he agrees to go back to the lost light with him, and they survive through all the shit the universe tries to throw at them, and make it back to cybertron and makes a home together, and they get to live together and be happy for some indeterminate amount of time, and for once nothing is going wrong and he gets to live the life he set out to create all those years ago.

and then ratchet dies.

least favorite thing about them: idk !!! i really like him a lot. even the parts of him that would annoy me in any other character just endear him to me more.

favorite line: all his lines during the sparkeater arc in mtmte + ALL of his lines in eos are very special to me. i probably couldn't pick a favorite. but i will use this space to remind everyone that "be shoosh" is a real actual thing drift has said in canon.

brOTP: obviously we got the drift + rodimus friendship but i also really like the scraps we get to see of drift's friendship with pipes. if overlord never happened i like to imagine that pipes wouldve slowly integrated drift into the minibot friend group and they wouldve gotten along well together :]

OTP: dratchetrod all the way babey !!!!!!!!!! my all time fav

nOTP: hummmm..... i do enjoy wrift but not in the way most people like to portray them so i guess that counts. wrift while drift is still at crystal city and at an incredibly vulnerable point in his life is just kind of ehhh and feels a bit predatory on wing's end to me. but i love wing-lives-au wrift where they meet up after drift has figured his own shit out and is much more firmly on the route to recovery.

random headcanon: i think drift would listen to machine girl unironically. i think he would absolutely love love love machine girl he would go batshit to machine girl. also i think he would really love to garden, both organic plants and crystals. the act of nurturing new life and watching it grow and flourish because of him would help him a lot to work thru the hangups his time as deadlock wouldve given him.

unpopular opinion: oh god so many. a) the sex worker drift shit is weird and fetishistic as fuck, b) the way people talk about drift's past as an addict in a lot of fanwork is INSANE and really shows how many people view addicts as less-than human, c) direct quote from @sparkxii : "Test for transformers fans describe Drift and if you do an overly detailed description of his legs a car comes down from the ceiling and falls on you a la saw trap style"

song i associate with them: drift is one of the three characters i actually have a character playlist for so i have a bunch, but if i had to choose just one... Jig of Life by Kate Bush <3

favorite picture of them: i have so so so so so many but this one panel of him is really cute 2 me. the little "and they dont change into anything" is SO funny

[kae-karo]

Can you give commentary on and p.s. if this is kaeya... ? :D

dw anon i saw your note about the chennett fic! i'm just selfish and want to do both of them :) lmaoooo

for context - send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

and p.s. if this is kaeya... - kaeluc

okay critically important if u have never heard the song that this is based on, check it out (x) vaguely this was inspired by sitting in the car with my fam a few months back and hearing this song on the radio (my dad exclusively listens to 2000s country, jimmy buffett, and queen) and my sister, who is an aggressively supportive ally, going 'every time i hear this song i imagine that it's about a guy named austin and i just change the pronouns when i sing it to make it gay'

so obviously, i had to make it abt kaeluc

(He wants to call Diluc.)

rose was my first exposure to people using parentheses in fic which sounds very strange as a comment to make but i do always associate it with her now lmaoooo. i rarely if ever do it in my fics (actually this might be the first one genshin-wise that i've done it in?) but it felt appropriate as a way to let kaeya express his emotions without expressing them

Do I remember that you were planning to propose to me?

okay so my biggest struggle in suiting this to kaeluc aside from the obvious 'they are not the stereotypical men portrayed in a country song' was figuring out what the hell would separate them. bc of the nature of the song, i didn't want to make it a messy/angsty breakup, but it had to be Big Enough that kaeya would just straight up not want to go near diluc for a long time

i did actually consider flipping their roles here, but i do often write a pining kaeya and a distant diluc, so it was fun to swap the typical dynamic a little bit. and ofc, diluc pre-crepus-death always strikes me as a i know what i want and i'm not afraid to go after it kind of vibe, so it fit well with the idea that he'd want to propose to kaeya

Voicemail, he chides, half in relief and half disappointment.

absolutely wild that this song was made in an era of answering machines cause i was like 'an-answering machine??? tf???' lsdfjljsklfsdjkl and had to very intentionally go fix all the times i said that without realizing it lmao

“If you’re calling with the intent to sell me something, please do not bother with a message, I have no interest in buying.”

okay there was a lot of adjusting of the actual voicemails from the song ofc, namely to make sure they fit diluc's voice, but i tried to keep the spirit of them, to let kaeya build diluc's character accordingly (and flesh out the idea of his relationship with him - and what they no longer have)

He won’t say a word, Diluc deserves that.

the other piece of this ofc was building out the way kaeya left, the reasons behind it - namely, his fears that he wasn't ever going to be good enough for diluc (hence his fight-or-flight making him run). this piece didn't come naturally at first but once i tracked it down, it fit well, esp considering how inclined i am to write kaeya as self-deprecating and self-sabotaging

“Advice? Tell me what to do?”

i love love LOVE bffs rosaria and kaeya and this only compounded after the bartender event. but i love rosaria's line abt how kaeya just basically talks about everything when he's drunk and love putting that to good use in fics

“You love him.”

“I know.”

ahhh the good ol' accidental admission. which, for him is like the world-ending type of admission in spite of the fact that rosaria's just chillin like 'babe u got it bad u never stopped loving him and he obviously never stopped loving u suck it up and call him' lksdfkjld. i love her being a force for calm in the midst of kaeya's dramatics

That’s too big a question for three years and a ring he’d never been brave enough to admit he wanted.

ngl something abt this line really made me 😭😭 to write,,,,,everything summed up about his departure in one sentence, more or less. everything about how he feels now, too

(But Diluc always deserved better than that, didn’t he?)

yeah okay this is the turning point for kaeya, ultimately. where he stops lamenting 'diluc deserves better' and starts using it as a motivation - and he gets there in words eventually, that diluc deserves better so he will be better, but this is the first point at which it shifts in the other direction (and the first point at which i realized how i wanted to resolve the issue, or what feels like an issue for kaeya at least)

“Will you come home, Kae?”

diluc, who never stopped loving kaeya. i actually struggle a LOT with prescribed lines of dialogue or events (which maybe isn't a bad thing exactly but it does hinder me a bit when it comes to stuff like this) so this was actually a little weird to write all the voicemail lines basically identically to what was originally in the song, but it ended up working out well to give kaeya these intense emotions between lines, in the breaks, and i hope it didn't end up sounding too clunky lmao

Kaeya shies away from the idea that he is someone worth rushing for.

i love fragile kaeya. broken, unsteady, shattered. terrified. at his least composed, least prepared. i think this is where he shines as a character, where we see some really interesting pieces of him that aren't hidden behind witty lines and deflecting answers, and i love to write him this way

(And this time, he intends to keep that promise.)

yes, they do get married (after a bit of a relearning of each other, but it's not hard to fall back into old habits). yes, they do get the house on the lake. klee loves visiting and kaeya's teaching her how to throw a softball with deadly accuracy. kaeya is very bad at bowling but he makes an effort to get better because diluc enjoys it and he wants to share in the things diluc enjoys. diluc and rosaria meet (rosaria actually says 'FINALLY' upon meeting him, which confuses diluc and embarrasses kaeya to no end) and they get along...weirdly well, to kaeya's relief. things are good. they get their well-deserved happy ending

send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

[80s-roger]

when love must die: joe mazzello

summary: you're married to joe mazzello for three years; the best three years of your life and the previous three dating and later being engaged. however, since day one of your marriage, you try for a successful pregnancy but they all end up failed. your most successful pregnancy was an IVF one, but the tube baby didn't make it at the last day of the first trimester. 

portray: current joe obv, female reader at 30.

words: 2306

warnings: unprotected sex, fluff, domestic violence experience, argument.

note: there will be part two.

masterlist

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Joe was at the set, he'd be back home soon for dinner. The table was ready and you got yourself a pregnancy test. You ran to the bathroom upstairs to finally find out. Plus or minus? You didn't have your period since the last time you had sex with him -almost two months ago- and you were excited if it was because of a fetus growing inside you.

You took the test, sitting impatiently at the toilet's cap, waiting for the result. You wished it was a plus symbol, meaning you're pregnant. Unfortunately, it had just a horizontal line. You were disappointed again. Crying loudly because your husband wasn't home, so you finally had the time to let it all out. You've been praying days and nights to have a baby. It's unfair for you when other women throw their newborns at the litter.

Suddenly the door opens fastly and you were scared to death. You got relieved as you saw Joe looking at you with terror in his eyes.

"What happened?" He asked terrified sitting next to you, placing you in his big arms.

You didn't say a word. The tears wouldn't stop running. He erased them with his fingers, until he noticed the test next to you. He looked at you without saying a word. He took it at his hand and saw it was negative. He threw it at the bin and pulled you closer, rubbing your back.

"It's going to happen. Don't worry." He whispered.

Thankfully, he was really supportive on this. He wants to be a dad as much as you want to be a mum but he is patient and never stresses you on this. You've seen your doctor and he says it's just your nature. Nature? A woman's nature after unprotected sex, is getting pregnant, having a fetus growing at her uterus for nine months and later having it in her arms, breastfeeding it. You can't try forever. There will be someday, you'll reach menopause.

Joe and you walked at the kitchen, ready to eat your dinner. He places you at your chair but you had no will on eating.

"Baby you gotta eat." He said after taking a bite of his portion.

"I'm not hungry..." You sobbed, placing your dish away from you.

"It's probably too early for the test to know..." He mentioned the test, trying to make you feel better.

"It's been almost two months, not two days." You commented, looking at him. Your dinner stopped. It was just talk.

"I'm trying to help here. I know it's hard, but we'll make it." He placed his palm over your hand.

"It's easier said than done Joe. Do you have any idea how terrible I feel?" You whimpered. "We're trying for three years, we'd have a baby by now." You stuttered.

"It's fine Y/N... I'm patient enough to make space for your emotions." he explained.

"Why are you even married with me? I'm nothing but an obstacle to your new family." You pledged. It was so sad.

"You're my family. What are you talking about?" He sat on his knees, kissing your hands. He proposed to you on one knee. Good memories.

"But you want kids. And we lost the older one. Remember?" You reminded him. His eyes darkened.

"I remember. But that does not prevent me from not being with you. I can't even imagine my life without you." He implied and caressed your cheek.

"I love you Joe." You silently wailed and he leaned closer to you.

"And I love you." He toned. "Listen, how about going upstairs and lay? I'll be there in a few, I have to fix the table." He smiled and you nodded.

You closed the door behind your bedroom, changed to your nighty and laid on the bed, calling your mum.

"Hey mum." You said.

"Hello darling, how are you?" She asked. You didn't reply. "Um.." she started. "You tried again, didnt you?" She knew about your lack of fertility.

"Yes, it was negative." You answered.

"What did he say?"  She somehow didn't really like Joe, but Joe didn't give a shit.

"He's nothing but a supportive and patient husband." You nod your head feeling great for being his wife.

"And what are you going to do now?" She curiously asked.

"Try again, I guess..." You implored.

"But you've seen that sex won't help you get pregnant." she decreed.

"And where are you getting with it? Doing medical procedures in cold laboratories?" You gasped.

"Keep that method, it almost happened. Your husband has money to afford it." she had the nerve to instruct.

"It's not only his money, but mine too. We both work. We'll both raise this baby." You corrected her. "I just called you to let you know it was one more unsuccessful try. You won't know about it by the day you'll see me with a baby in my arms." You elaborated and hang up your phone without hearing her answer.

Five minutes later, Joe came to your bedroom. He took off his clothes and went inside your bathroom, taking a shower. It didn't last long and he was next to you, on his towel, around his waist. He sat next to you when his big palms caressed your stomach. That move made you whimper.

"Don't cry, it'll happen." He really is an optimist person. He wiped off some of your tiny tears ready to escape from your eyes. "I don't know if it's the appropriate time, but do you want us to try again? Or should we go for in vitro fertilization?" He gently asked.

"I don't want IVF, I don't feel comfortable there. Only with you." You disclosed and he came closer to your face kissing you gently.

His big hands caressed you everywhere. You looked so tiny beneath him, however it made you feel important. Your hands kept touching his attractive biceps until he removed the towel around him, staying naked on top of you. With one move, he removed your nighty and massaged your breasts, when his face leaned towards your neck, giving you soft kisses. He finally removed your underwear and trusted inside you. His moans were so deep and his eyes locked in you. Your arms, around his neck and his back, giving small nail scratches.

"I love you Joe." You moaned between the thrusts you received.

"I love you too y/n ..." He softly said when you felt him moving deeper. He knew every inch of your body. Literally. He knew how deep you could take him and how much. "Babe, are you close?" He asked making sure you'd finish too.

"Yes..." You moaned kissing his lips.

"Alright, because I am." he caressed your cheek and his moves were sudden and slow, which means he was done inside you, possibly fertilizing you. You came together and after removing himself from you, he wore his underwear and helped you get your clothes too. He covered you with the layers and hugged you tight.

"I hope this time it's happening." You said at his arms.

"Fingers crossed." He smiled at you.

You were the little spoon tonight; Joe was hugging you from behind and you felt protected. This is how he makes you feel everytime you're together. You're just made for each other.

You woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and frightened of your nightmare. You stood up from your bed crying loudly. Joe next to you grabbed a bottle of water, you always have at your stand, offering it. He gently rubbed your back telling you to calm down, it was just a bad dream, it's not reality. But what if it really is? What if you really are infertile? You were on the edge of going insane. He pulled you closer, playing with your hair so you'd eventually return to your sleep.

The next morning, Joe wasn't next to you. He probably went downstairs, making breakfast. You had to get ready and see him at the kitchen. But you heard speeches coming from there as you walked the stairs so you decided to eavesdrop. There was your younger brother Ben talking with him. That's how you actually met each other. Ben set you up.

"How's things?" Ben asked. You didn't really talk to him about you and Joe but Joe does. They are like best friends.

"Terrible." Joe admitted and Ben looked at him confused. "I mean, I love her but we keep failing on growing our family." He explained and took a sip of his coffee.

"How long have you been trying?" He asked preoccupied.

"Since the wedding night, counting three years." He declared.

"I've heard my mother talking with y/n about it but I didn't really pay attention. However, how do you feel about it?" Ben questioned.

"I can't blame y/n about this, it's happening to many women but I also can't see myself without kids." He opened up to his best friend. You instantly felt heart broken.

"And then what? Will you divorce her because of that? She loves you more than anything Joe." Ben explained.

"I can't divorce her. She's my everything. But I also don't want to keep trying. I want to have babies in this big house as soon as possible. I don't want to age." He shook his head broken hearted.

"You do feel sad about it. Do you have any idea how sadder it is for her? A baby is a bless." Ben protested. You wanted to hear more. They'd stop the conversation if you appeared in the kitchen.

"I'm not pressuring her. When we did the IVF, we were sure it'd happen but it died too. How many possibilities does she have when she gets older? Less than they already are." Joe questioned himself. Ben didn't say a thing.

You decided to get inside the kitchen, pretend like you heard nothing.

"Good morning sis." Ben smiled at you.

"Morning Ben." You neutrally said, faking what you thought before. You couldn't hide your anger at Joe's confession.

"Good morning my love." Joe attempted kissing you but you backed off. Both of them noticed your reaction and stared each other confused. "So um, are you okay?" He checked on you.

"I'm perfect." You lied. You're dying inside.

"Maybe I should get going." Ben felt the tense and had to leave.

"Yes you should. I'll take you to the door." You raised you eyebrow at him.

You were with Ben at the door and Joe eavesdropped without being noticeable.

"The next time you'll talk with Joe about my lack of fertility, I'll murder you." You threatened him.

"You know you can't do it sis." He joked.

"I can't, but I can cut your balls and you'll see who's the weak." You aggressively said to him and he didn't say a word.

"Damn sis, okay." He was defeated and left your home leaving you with your husband.

He came out of the kitchen guilty. But it wasn't his fault. You just wanted to throw your weight somewhere else.

"You heard us?" He silently asked.

"Are you joking? Of course I did. Is that what you talk about with your friends outside?" You angrily argued.

"No! He asked me! Besides he's your brother, he can know about it." he pointed out.

"I don't want him to know! I won't even let my mother know from now!" You attacked.

"Fine! But he's my best friend! I want to talk to someone! Why don't you let me do it? I never pressure you so stop pressuring me!" He shouted leaving you at a staring shock.

"I want you to leave right now Joe." You silently closed your eyes pointing at the door. "And tell everyone we can't have kids because I am infertile." You were so ironic.

"Where will I go? Are you kicking me out of my home?" He concede.

"Yes I do and don't come back. I'm angry." You walked inside the kitchen and he followed you.

"But you'll be over it by evening." He calmly said.

"No I fucking won't!" You threw him a glass and it accidentally fell down at his feet, with some pieces of glass hurting his arms.

"You arrogant bitch!" He yelled coming to your place menacingly. "You want to kill me now or what?" He raised your hand on you and covered yourself with your arms, afraid if he'd hit you. Flashbacks of domestic violence crossed your mind. Your alcoholic father hitting you in every chance he'd get.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry!" You sat down at the floor, crying loudly and hiding yourself, so he wouldn't harm your body but your arms.

After Joe finding out what he was doing he shockingly moved his arms and sat in front of you, getting you inside his arms. He started crying too.

"I am sorry y/n, I didn't mean to do it! I'm just so sad." He whimpered at your neck.

"Please Joe, divorce me. I can't keep making you unhappy." You cried at his chest, avoiding the eye contact.

"I can't do it. I love you, I'm literally attached to you, mentally, emotionally and physically. I just can't." He kissed you. "We'll find some way to fix it. We can do it, I know." He silently cried, hiding his voice cracks.