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grazitti-interactive1 · 2 years ago

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100+ Must-Know Digital Marketing Statistics for 2023

Digital marketing is ever-evolving. To survive and thrive in the industry, you need to keep up with the latest developments.

Staying updated with market statistics will help you create an effective business strategy.

It will enable you to understand how to allocate resources and where to look for new opportunities. Statistics are also an indication of trends and areas of growth.

At Grazitti, we’ve curated and categorized a list of digital marketing statistics for 2023 to help you make the most of industry developments and trends.

Search Engine Optimization Statistics

Search Engine Optimization (SEO) helps you rank high on search results and improve online presence. It involves elements ranging from conversion rate optimization (CRO) to optimizing for organic, mobile, and voice search, as well as eCommerce.

Conversion Rate Optimization (CRO)

Conversions are a top priority in digital marketing. Here is the average conversion rate for businesses by website, device, and channel. Average Conversion Rate by Website:Distribution PointAverage Conversion RateAverage Websites2.35%Top 25% of Websites5.31%Top 10% of Websites11.45%

(Source: Meetanshi) Average Conversion Rate by Device:DeviceConversion RateMobile2%Tablet3%Desktop3%

Average Conversion Rate by Marketing Channel:ChannelConversion RateThought Leadership SEO2.1%Google Ads (PPC)0.7%Facebook Ads1.1%LinkedIn Ads0.8%LinkedIn Organic2.2%Email Marketing1.3%Webinars0.9%

(Source: First Page Sage)

The #1 result on Google SERPs has a click-through rate of 27.6% on average. (Backlinko)

Website conversion rates drop by an average of 2.11% with each additional second of loading time. (Portent)

The global average eCommerce conversion rate across all sectors is 2.1%. (Statista)

The click-through rate for the top-ranking search result decreases from 8.17% on desktop to 6.74% on mobile devices. (SEOClarity)

Only 17% of marketers A/B test landing pages to improve conversion rates. (HubSpot)

Organic Search

B2B and tech companies generate 2x more revenue from organic search as compared to other channels. (BrightEdge)

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Screenshot-Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-1.jpg

90.63% of pages do not get organic search traffic from Google. (Ahrefs)

The first five organic search results on the first page of SERPs account for 67.6% of all clicks. (Zero Limit Web)

33% of eCommerce visits are generated through organic search. (Statista)

49% of marketers say organic search has the best ROI for any marketing channel. (Search Engine Journal)

Updating existing content can increase organic traffic by 111.3%. (Safari Digital)

Mobile Search

Mobile search has surpassed desktop search among users. Here’s a breakdown of mobile search across different industries.

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-2-2.jpg

Mobile devices account for 63% of organic search. (Statista)

30% of pages that appear on the first page of desktop search results do not appear on the top 10 results of mobile search. (Smart Insights)

72.6% of internet users will access the web solely via smartphones by 2025. (CNBC)

Medium-tail keyword searches are used above average on mobile phones, while long-tail keyword searches are used more on desktop. (Sistrix)

34.4% of mobile search results get no clicks. (SparkToro)

65% of consumers begin their journey via mobile search and browsing. (Yotpo)

Voice Search

40% of adults use voice search daily. Here’s a breakdown:

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Screenshot-Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-3.jpg

Voice search is the 2nd most popular channel for mobile search, with 20% of searches made every day. (Google)

58% of consumers use voice search to find local business information. (BrightLocal)

75% of US families will own a smart speaker by 2025. (Voicebot)

The number of global voice assistants will reach 8 billion by the end of 2023. (Statista)

eCommerce

There are currently over 24 million eCommerce websites worldwide. (WPForms)

218.8 million customers are expected to shop online in 2023. (Insider Intelligence)

95% of all purchases will be through eCommerce by 2040. (Nasdaq)

93.5% of global internet users have purchased products online. (OptinMonster)

Overseas retailers account for 57% of all online purchases. (Logistyx)

65% of online shoppers prefer to buy products with content written in their native tongue. (CSA Research)

Boost website SEO with a complimentary digital marketing audit.

Content Marketing Statistics

Content marketing helps increase brand awareness and engagement by delivering the right message at the right time. It includes the strategic creation and distribution of written, audio, and visual content that resonates with the target audience.

Blogging

Millions of blog posts are posted every day across billions of websites. Here’s a breakdown:

DurationNumber of Blogs PostedEvery Day7.5 MillionEvery Week52.5 MillionEvery Month225 MillionEvery Year2.73 Billion

(Source: Demand Sage)

There are currently more than 600 million blogs on the internet. (GrowthBadger)

An ideal blog post has a word count of 1760 – 2400 words. (Hook Agency)

Content creation costs 62% less than traditional marketing and generates 3x more leads. (Web Tribunal)

65% of content marketers say blogs are their most-used format. (MarketingBuddy)

Only one-third of bloggers regularly check their blog’s traffic analytics. (Statista)

Content Strategy

64% of the most successful B2B marketers have a documented content marketing strategy. (Content Marketing Institute)

81% of marketers view content as a core business strategy. (CMI)

70% of marketers regularly invest in content marketing. (HubSpot)

51% of businesses investing in content marketing publish content daily. (The Manifest)

Over 60% of marketers measure the success of their content marketing strategy through sales. (HubSpot)

Audio Content

81% of listeners have taken action after hearing audio ads during a podcast. (Spotify)

There are currently 2.4 million podcasts and 420 million listeners globally. (Demand Sage)

16% of marketers have invested in audio chat rooms such as Clubhouse and Twitter Spaces. (HubSpot)

The average listener spends 16:14 hours a week listening to online audio. (Infinite Dial)

The most important considerations for hiring a voice actor for audio content are:

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-5.jpg

Video Content

80% of people prefer video over written text. Here’s a breakdown of their preferences:

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Screenshot-Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-4-1.jpg

85% of marketers say video is an effective way to get attention online. (Animoto)

Over 90% of people discover new brands or products on YouTube. (Google)

49% of marketers say video has helped them reduce support calls. (Wyzowl)

64% of marketers find videos to be the most difficult content to create. (OptinMonster)

Social Media Statistics

Social media is a powerful tool for boosting brand visibility and engagement. While there are many social media platforms you can tap into, it’s best to focus on those where your target audience is present.

LinkedIn has more than 875 million users worldwide. (LinkedIn)

4 out of 5 LinkedIn users impact business decisions. (LinkedIn)

30% of a brand’s engagement on LinkedIn comes from its employees. (LinkedIn)

Marketers see up to 2x more conversions on LinkedIn. (LinkedIn)

40% of B2B marketers say LinkedIn is the most effective channel for driving high-quality leads. (LinkedIn)

Twitter

Twitter’s user count is expected to grow to 335 million in 2023. (eMarketer)

Over 500 million Tweets are sent every day. (Internet Live)

Twitter users generally have a higher income. (Pew Research)

53% of Twitter’s audience is more likely to be the first to purchase new products. (Twitter)

Twitter’s CPM is the lowest out of all major platforms. (Statista)

Facebook

There are over 2.91 billion monthly active users on Facebook. (Statista)

72% of users don’t trust Facebook to protect their privacy. (Washington Post)

People are 53% more likely to buy from a business using Facebook live chat. (Facebook)

There are 250 million Facebook Shops worldwide. (Statista)

Instagram

Instagram is the 7th most visited website in the world. (Hootsuite)

Instagram is the second-most downloaded app worldwide. (Hootsuite)

Instagram has over 2 billion monthly active users. (Statista)

58% of users get more interested in a brand after seeing it on an Instagram Story. (Instagram)

90% of Instagram users follow at least one business. (Instagram)

TikTok

TikTok has been downloaded 3.5 billion times worldwide. (Visual Capitalist)

TikTok has the highest social media engagement rate per post. (Social Insider)

63% of successful TikTok ads communicate their message right away. (TikTok)

TikTok ads reach around 885 million people. (DataReportal)

80% of trending TikTok videos have some kind of music. (Invideo)

50% of TikTok users have bought something after watching a TikTok live. (TikTok)

Snapchat

Snapchat has over 319 million daily active users. (Statista)

59% of U.S. users check Snapchat daily. (Pew Research Center)

Snapchat’s users have over $4.4 trillion in spending power. (Snapchat)

55% of Gen Z have ad recall after watching 0 to 2 seconds of an ad. (Snapchat)

Active users open Snapchat 30 times a day. (Tech Crunch)

Snapchatters are 2x more likely to share purchases. (Snapchat)

Maximize your social media presence with the right marketing strategy – Download Cheat Sheet.

Paid Advertising Statistics

Paid advertising helps promote your brand and reach audiences that you couldn’t with organic marketing. It ranges from PPC (Pay-Per-Click) to social ads, affiliate marketing, and influencer marketing.

PPC (Pay-Per-Click)

PPC generates 2x website visitors than SEO. (Techjury)

32% of companies use PPC to sell products directly to consumers. (WebFX)

65% of small to mid-sized businesses have a PPC campaign. (WebFX)

46% of all clicks go to the top three PPC ads. (WebFX)

Social Ads

Ad spend on social media reached over $173 billion in 2022. (Statista)

Digital ad spend is estimated to increase by 20% in 2023. (G2)

Social media advertising is the 2nd biggest market in digital ads. (Statista)

The cost of running ads on Meta has increased by 24% YOY. (Meta Investor Relations)

Instagram’s advertising reach has outpaced Facebook. (Hootsuite)

130 million social media users engage with shopping posts every month. (G2)

Affiliate Marketing

15%–30% of all advertising sales are generated by affiliate programs. (SaaS Scout)

Affiliate marketing spend is projected to grow to $9 billion in 2023 in the US alone. (Pushground)

59% of companies use influencers for affiliate marketing. (Influencer Marketing Hub)

31% of publishers say that affiliate marketing is one of their top three sources of revenue. (eMarketer)

Affiliate marketing is the most important customer acquisition channel for 20% of brand marketers. (Pepperjam)

Influencer Marketing

72% of marketers say influencer marketing provides higher quality customers. (Influencer Marketing Hub)

Influencer marketing ad spend is projected to reach $32.53 billion by 2023. (Statista)

49% of consumers depend on influencer recommendations. (Digital Marketing Institute)

97% of marketers consider Instagram to be the most important influencer marketing channel. (Shopify)

Email Marketing Statistics

Email marketing is one of the oldest and strongest marketing strategies. It helps you connect with your target audience in a personalized way and establish a convenient interaction channel.

The number of global email users is set to grow to 4.48 billion users by 2024. (Statista)

An average customer spends 10 seconds going through brand emails. (Statista)

65% of marketers globally use automated email marketing. (Demand Sage)

For every $1 spent on email marketing, marketers can get a $42 return, on average. (Litmus)

It is estimated that email marketing will generate 11 billion in revenue by 2023. (Statista)

The best days to send marketing emails based on performance are:

https://www.grazitti.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Blog-The-Ultimate-list-of-Digital-Marketing-Stats-for-2023-Blog-image-6.jpg

Marketing Analytics Statistics

Marketing analytics help you gauge marketing efforts and measure effectiveness. It enables you to understand what’s working in your marketing strategy and what needs improvement to achieve desired goals.

Around 74,678,968 websites use Google Analytics. (BuiltWith)

A total of 228,737 websites use Adobe Analytics. (BuiltWith)

Chief Marketing Officers (CMOs) spend around 6.5% of their marketing budget on analytics. (Villanova University)

The global marketing analytics software market size is expected to reach $7.43 billion in value by 2027. (Grand View Research)

Marketers who use 5 or more analytics tools are 39% more likely to see an improvement in overall marketing performance. (Think With Google)

From Digital Marketing Statistics to Business Growth

Building the right marketing strategy for your business can be tricky. If you want to hit it out of the ballpark, we recommend beginning with a digital marketing audit first. A complete health check of your digital footprint will help create an effective marketing strategy that’s unique to your business and works for your success.

Want To Optimize Your Digital Marketing Strategy for 2023? Let Us Help.

Original Source Link: https://www.grazitti.com/blog/digital-marketing-statistics/?

#digital marketing statistics #digital marketing trends and developments #digital marketing trends #digital marketing trends 2023

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atthebell · 29 days ago

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new update!

Note: This whole bit is utterly baffling to me, I'm not an audio guy (or whatever this is; I'm not even entirely clear on what to call all this), so if I explain anything wrong, please let me know!

So, to begin: Fracassi in the discord (hero of our time fr) found that every 0.5 seconds of audio from the id.wav file had three frequencies, taking the maximum and minimum of each group and finding that the minimum across groups was 0 and the maximum was 255. He used these values to create images with every possible resolution based off the number of value triplets (30360).

Still using these values, they managed to find an image with the resolution 184x165 that aligned properly, which consists of a green eye (presumably) surrounded by blue with the text "A PROFECIA" all over the image.

Fracassi also pointed out that the color values might be different, so the correct coloring might be this image rather than the one with the blue background.

Here's the link to Fracassi's code that he used to work on all this: https://github.com/pedrofracassi/arg-edm-audio-to-rgb

Drafted the above the other day, now updates as of today (10/26):

Ordem Paranormal tweeted some images and a link: d4ylightd3mon.com.br. Each of the images has a series of letters and numbers followed by either one or two equal signs-- these are Base64 codes.

Decoded:

aHR0cHM6Ly9vdGgzci5zaXR1L3MwdGVycjRuMQ== -> subterrâneo https://oth3r.site/s0terr4n1

aHR0cHM6Ly9vdGgzci5zaXR1LzByZDFuYXQzdXI= -> computador -> https://oth3r.site/0rd1nat3ur

aHR0cHM6Ly9vdGgzci5zaXR1LzRyYjRybw== -> floresta -> https://oth3r.site/4rb4ro

aHR0cHM6Ly9vdGgzci5zaXR1L0s0c3QzM2w= -> castelo -> https://oth3r.site/K4st33l

Each of these leads to Mega links with the same images as the tweet, without the Base64 codes on the bottom. They're numbered 1-4, with the Medo symbol one with a crowbar labeled 3.png, the blue and green computer image labeled 4.png, the forest image labeled 1.png, and the image of a castle with a spiral in the sky labeled 2.png.

The link provided in the tweet, d4ylightd3mon.com.br, leads to a site called O Jornal Diário (The Daily Paper) with a few article-style titles and blurbs.

The word "ordem" is mentioned in the third article and is clickable; it takes you to https://d4ylightd3mon.com.br/login, which displayed an image split into quadrants with "240x320" in blue text over each quadrant. Clicking on each quadrant opens up a file upload window, indicating that you may be able to upload files to each that would act as a login password.

Using any wrong link to the page (e.g. https://d4ylightd3mon.com.br/hello) takes you to this error page, which displays black and white smoky imagery, the Medo symbol, and Ordem text that reads "QUATRO ZERO QUATRO."

The page also has a volume button in the upper right corner; pressing it plays music: the file for it is labeled "4mbi3nnt.ogg" (.ogg is a type of compressed audio formatting). (I can't upload it here because of the format, but it's very lovely!)

Each of the quadrants has coordinates within its source code:

1_x65_y1669 2_x1653_y1733 3_x1884_y1338 4_x683_y616

[had to lower the resolution on this image bc it was too big for tumblr]

Using these coordinates and the four images provided as each quadrant (and labeled even as where they all go), we can find hidden Ordem symbols in each with the right 240x320 resolution.

Uploading those images into the file upload for each quadrant led to an animation playing, and then the Ordo Realitas logo appeared across them (which you can see faintly with all four images). Also the music starts playing automatically which is really cool.

Clicking on the image that appears takes you to https://d4ylightd3mon.com.br/7d180669-c0f1-46d1-ad1a-9ce9ce0f3a30/v, a page labeled "chamado" ("called") which shows an image of the Medo symbol in green with binary across the image and a white shape across it. This image is an .iso file, which are typically archival files that contain identical copies of another file, typically a CD or DVD, and are used often for backing up data.

And there's more music on this page, also extremely sick and this time in MP3 format so I can put it here on the post :D

Below the image is text:

“A Membrana, o passadouro do impossível, é o limiar entre a Realidade e aquilo que não deveria ser. Debilitada pelo Medo, se torna uma passagem para horrores sem forma que transbordam através de aspectos imaginados, conceitos nascidos de perturbações quiméricas, distorcendo as regras da Realidade em sua manifestação.”

Eng: "The Membrane, the gateway to the impossible, is the threshold between Reality and that which should not be. Weakened by Fear, it becomes a gateway for formless horrors that overflow through imagined aspects, concepts born of chimerical disturbances, distorting the rules of Reality in its manifestation."

[don't mind me, just fist-pumping excitedly at all of this]

In the code of the site, the text has weird spacing: there's five groups of 8 spaces/tabs. Converting the spaces into 1s and the tabs into 0s gets us "7z..." in binary. Using hexadecimal on the v.iso file shows that it starts with a PNG file and ends with the word "chamado" (the name of the page). Deleting everything before "chamado" and inserting "7z" gets a file labeled "v.7z" (7z is also a compressed archival file type, similar to ZIP).

Extracting v.7z gets us this image ^^ (atalho.jpg), which shows a forest with a path leading to a house with {P} on it and an ourobouros along the path/off-center on the image.

[To add-- there were also a few hints in the page's code to get to this 7z solution-- some comments to look for the word chamado, that it would be the key, and a reminder to use .7z as the file extension.]

So, the metadata for this image contains a few things: first, 10^100, which is a googol and a hint to use Google here presumably. Next is "Westfield," a hint referring to Andrew Westfield, who created F5 steganography (tl;dr an algorithmic way to encode information-- it hides files within images).

The Discord used https://github.com/matthewgao/F5-steganography to decode the image and get this link: d4ylightd3mon.com.br/cogito_ergo_sum. The site is labeled F(x) and has the image "bloco.png" and some brackets that wait for a password; if you type any key it takes it as part of the password and once you type in a wrong password it puts you on a 15 second cooldown.

The bloco.png image shows a red layer with the Ordo Realitas logo, a green layer with the function notation on it, and a blue layer with the Unicode logo.

It also contains some green pixels with the RGB and hex values, with the red RGB values going in sequence from 1-12 (+ the tip of the red layer on the image having the Ordo Realitas logo).

R G B Hex 1 241 0 #01f100 2 243 0 #02f300 3 242 0 #03f200 4 244 0 #04f400 5 241 0 #05f100 6 248 0 #06f800 7 246 0 #07f600 8 247 0 #08f700 9 252 0 #09fc00 10 250 0 #0afa00 11 251 0 #0bfb00 12 249 0 #0cf900

This list was made by Odonts in the discord and the sequence of values was noticed by pedrohh!

The green layer tip, the function notation, is a hint to use the Fn keys, conveniently labeled F1-F12, just like the red values. The highest green value in the pixels is 252; 12 more than 240. Taking 240 as the starting point then gives us a list of the differences between each green value and that starting point, giving us 12 digits that are all within the 1-12 range and therefore can be used for the F1-F12 keys. Here is that list, discovered by yuio in the discord:

1 -> F1 2 -> F3 3 -> F2 4 -> F4 5 -> F1 6 -> F8 7 -> F6 8 -> F7 9 -> F12 10 -> F10 11 -> F11 12 -> F9

And the password for the site: [ F1 F3 F2 F4 F1 F8 F6 F7 F12 F10 F11 F9 ], which gets us a zip file labeled "U.zip" which contains 12 PNG images. Each image is numbered 1-12 and contains a mahjong piece over images of cubes with U on each side, all of the background very black and green and The Matrix-y.

There's a tip to use B (Unicode) to find R and G, so to use Unicode to find the order and the function for the values.

Using the Mahjong tiles as a Unicode block, they were able to get the list of the photos with their Unicode codepoints (I'm including the names of the tiles as well just in case they become relevant):

1 - 1F027 - Summer 2 - 1F010 - One of the Bamboos 3 - 1F023 - Orchid 4 - 1F02B - Back 5 - 1F026 - Spring 6 - 1F02A - Joker 7 - 1F028 - Autumn 8 - 1F022 - Plum 9 - 1F024 - Bamboo 10 - 1F004 - Red Dragon 11- 1F029 - Winter 12 - 1F025 - Chrysanthemum

The final two values for each codepoint point to B values, so if we search each image for pixels with said values (as in, B value 27 for image 1, B value 10 for 2, and so on), we find 12 pixels with the same pattern we've been getting, which is 1-12 values for R and F1-12 values for G.

And here is what we get from that ^^

Each of these sequences gets us a new .dat file, with one-word titles and one letter in each capitalized:

1- Anomalia - A 2- bRuma - R 3- crIptografia - I 4- desaparecimento - T 5- estranHo - H 6- forMa - M 7- ocultO - O 8- paradigMa - M 9- parAnormal - A 10- ruNa - N 11- sIna - I 12- transformAr - A

The letters come together to spell "ARITHMOMANIA," which is a disorder/symptomatic expression of OCD that makes one feel the need to count things obsessively.

Counting the number of bytes in each file got us this list, made by pedrohh:

Anomalia - 68 bRuma - 68 crIptografia - 58 desaparecimenTo - 112 estranHo - 114 forMa - 111 ocultO - 112 paradigMa - 48 parAnormal - 115 ruNa - 49 sIna - 116 transformAr - 111

Which can then be decoded through ascii and gets the answer "prop0s1to," solved by Stralo (beloved).

Going to https://d4ylightd3mon.com.br/prop0s1to gets us a new page, titled "4," with a small maze to navigate (with a new snippet of music-- these all appear to be from the same song, which is neat).

Each # is a wall, which won't let you pass through and gives you the message "Uma parede está em meu caminho"/"A wall is in my way"

And both @ symbols are gateways, giving the message "O portão está trancado. Senha:"/"The gate is locked. Password:" It doesn't let you know when a password is long enough; you have to press enter whenever you've entered a password or else it doesn't try it, so there's no way to get the number of characters from the start. When you enter an incorrect password, the message goes away and the music starts playing.

Okay! And I'm sure progress will be made the moment I post this but I've been working on this update for a couple hours and need to eat so I'll be back in a bit with whatever folks find.

Enigma do Medo ARG

okay so! so far cellbit's discord has found a few things aside from what was tweeted (^^), as they knew to look elsewhere to find more clues.

this led them to find two images, one from the nuuvem page and one from the steam page. you can see a dog (lupi) and a girl (mia) in them respectively.

which then led to a christmas image ordem tweeted at one point-- and it's very glaring that the two images that led here included mia and lupi but not veríssimo. adds to the whole element of him being missing.

they're also working on a few things with numbers hidden in the cracks of the images, but right now these are the biggest updates and most solid leads! ill keep updating periodically 🩵🩵

#bell.txt #edm arg #stralo is literally typing as i go to post this....

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dragon-in-a-mug · 2 years ago

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How Natsume's Day Became Eggsellent

Prompt: Lost/Found (Day 1)

Summary: "You have no idea where we are, do you?"

OR Natori and Takashi get lost in a forest while out on a job. Something else finds them before they can find their way out.

The other turned around to shoot him one of his signature filmstar smiles, which was, of course, totally lost on Takashi. After a few seconds Natori started to squirm under his deadpan look, one hand coming up to rub at his neck.

"You have no idea where we are, do you?" asked Takashi, as he was slowly trailing behind Natori.

"Of course I know where we are. Have a bit more faith in me, Natsume!" he said with a lot more confidence than he was allowed to have, regarding the fact that they had been stumbling through this forest for the better part of three hours.

Natori had asked if he wanted to join him on a job. The exorcist had been hired to inspect an old seal and, if necessary, to renew it. It was rather simple. Practically zero chances of danger, which was the reason why they were not accompanied by his shikis. As for Nyanko-Sensei, the cat was still a bit out of it from a drinking party the night prior.

Nothing new there. Takashi had been mad at the yokai at first, but it was probably better that he wasn't here or he would have been complaining and fighting with Natori for the whole time. So he was thankful for the small things.

At first Takashi and Natori had just enjoyed the late spring afternoon, idle chatting and relaxing. But after some time Takashi had noticed the unsure expressions that flitted across Natori's face, when the other thought he wasn't looking.

It was then that he started to actively watch where they were going and was hit with the realisation that they were walking in circles. It wasn't that obvious, but from time to time they walked past trees and bushes that Takashi knew he had seen before.

Because he was a very polite boy, he didn't call Natori out for his bullshit bluntly. Instead he leveled the man with his best 'we both know you are lying, don't worry I'm not mad, just disappointed' - look.

With a sigh Natori folded like a chair. "Okay, maybe we've taken a few wrong turns and I'm not entirely sure where we are. But everything is going to be alright, Natsume. I'm sure we'll be back on track in no time," he assured him cheerily.

Takashi hummed unconvinced, but he couldn't keep the fond smile off his face. This situation reminded him a lot of the many afternoons he had spent with Nishimura and Kitamoto, who often managed to get them all both lost and back to civilization. Well most of the time. But that never bothered Takashi. He was content to indulge in the adventures the others would come up with.

"We should probably ask for directions," he said more to himself, already on the lookout for anyone who could help them.

As he did that he noticed the severe lack of spirits. He could still hear the quiet chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects, but there was no distant chattering or the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves that accompanied yokai when they went about their days and moved through the foliage.

"That's weird," murmured Takashi.

"What is weird?" Natori turned back towards him after he had previously inspected the dirt road before them as if it held all the answers he needed.

Takashi shook his head slightly, his eyes roaming over everything in search for any indications as to why the forest now appeared to be isolated.

"There is no one here and I think it has been like that for a while. Normally there would be at least a few ayakashis around."

Natori now also swiveled his head this way and that way, also taking stock of the weird absence of any and all supernatural presences.

"Huh, you're right," he said, a surprised expression showing on his face.

They looked at each other, both coming to the same conclusion. This was probably a bad omen. Something must have scared the yokai away and that normally meant either one big, bad yokai or a powerful exorcist. Blessed earth was also an option, though a highly unlikely one, due to the size of the forest and the facts they knew about it.

Natori let out a sigh and nodded to himself, probably deciding on a plan on how they should proceed now.

"Come on, Natsume. Moving forward is our best chance to either find the sealed tree or our way out of the woods." He shot him an encouraging smile.

There wasn't really another option. It was either forward or going back the way they came. And behind them was already a Gordian knot, so it made more sense to go a way they hadn't tangled up yet.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds like a good idea," agreed Takashi easily and gave the man a small smile back. If things came to the worst and they were not back after nightfall, then either Nyanko-Sensei or Hiiragi and the others would start looking for them.

Or Takashi could use the Book Of Friends to ask for help. But that was out of the question, unless he wanted to deal with the fallout of that. He did not in fact want this. So onward it was.

Fortunately they didn't come across too many forks in the road, so they probably weren't getting more lost. At least that's what Takashi hoped. He really didn't want to miss dinner and risk worrying the Fujiwaras.

To his and Natori's delighted surprise they came upon a clearing just over half an hour later. A giant old tree grew at the edge of it, its broad canopy drawing moving pictures on the ground.

There was a thick rope combined with paper streamers wrapped around the massive trunk. Two little shrines stood on either side of the tree. That was unmistakably the right place.

They made their way towards it and Takashi could feel the slight squirming of something darker near him, no doubt the ayakashi that was trapped behind bark. Luckily it seemed like it was in some kind of slumber, being influenced by purification charms and the shrines. It should not cause them any issues.

With that they sat to work, as Takashi helped Natori apply paper dolls and draw arrays in the dirt. As soon as they had started, they were done with their task and Natori finished another job successfully.

He patted Takashi's back with a bright, "Good job, Natsume!" when there was suddenly a loud splintering noise, like breaking wood.

Takashi flinched, the sound disrupting the former tranquility with the force of a thunderclap. Both friends turned in its direction, bodies tense and on high alert.

A few moments went by in eerie silence, no birds, no bugs, not even the wind whispering around them, just their breathing. Then the stillness was broken by a different sound. It sounded like something was moving. Something big. And it was coming their way, faster than they would like.

Before Natori or Takashi could even start to think about countermeasures, like hiding or running or just anything that wasn't dumbly standing around, waiting for a, most likely dangerous, sound to reach them, it broke through the treeline on the opposite side of the clearing.

It was indeed big. In the way it stretched itself to look even more intimidating, it seemed to be even bigger than Nyanko-Sensei in his true form. It also looked suspiciously familiar.

Its yellow feather dress topped with a grey mane and those horns and the beak were only slowly processing in his panicked brain. He definitely knew this yokai, but from where? Then the realisation hit him like a freight train. Huh, that was an unexpected turn of events.

But Takashi didn't get the chance to share his findings with his friend, as the monster, a Tatsumi, tilted its head back and let out a throaty scream and everything that happened after that, happened too fast to react to.

Natori stepped in front of him and shielded him with his body.

"Leave, beast!" he yelled threateningly at the dragon. He stood strong and tall in hopes of warding it off. It didn't seem to like this as it dashed forward and snatched Natori off the ground with its sharp beak, making Takashi stumble back a few steps in shock.

Natori now dangled a few feet above the floor, trying to wiggle his way out of this predicament, which only brought the result of the Tatsumi teeth closing further around him. He grunted in pain. This scene led Takashi to experience a weird déjà-vu moment.

That finally managed to break him out of his stupor. He slowly walked towards the beast. Natori tried to discourage him, telling him to stop and run instead. Takashi ignored him as best as he could and focused instead solely on the dragon.

The Tatsumi also started to pay attention to him and their eyes met.

Maroon eyes were now laser focused on him, pupils widening slightly. Takashi set his back straight, put on a stern face, laced his voice with as much authority as his vocal cords were able to - which was a surprising amount for such a gentle teenager - and pointed to the ground. "Let him down!"

The reaction was immediate. The dragon opened its jaws and Natori slipped out from between sharp teeth. He hit the earth with a dull thud and let out a pained 'oomph'. Before Takashi could apologize, there was a huge, chicken-shaped yokai barreling towards him.

Natori let out a frightened, "Natsume, look out!" as if Takashi would be capable of overseeing the beast before him. He was neither able to reassure his friend nor give him a sarcastic reply because in the next second a massive beak collided with his torso and he fell to the ground with a surprised yelp.

He couldn't suppress the small giggles bubbling up as the Tatsumi nuzzled the crook of his neck, its feathers and hair tickling Takashi's face. His hand came up to pet at the top of its bill. Small, content noises left the huge creature.

"Stop that, Tama," he laughed, "I'm happy to see you too, but please let me get up."

Tama reluctantly ceased his cuddle attack for a bit, just enough to allow Takashi to sit up. Then he flopped to the floor and snuggled his head in Takashi's lap, making it impossible for the boy to stand up.

He resigned himself to his fate, gently stroking Tama's soft hair and instead moved his gaze to Natori. The man was now standing, but he looked like he was frozen in place, eyes glued on the scene in front of him.

"Are you alright, Natori-san?" Takashi asked, a bit worried, eyeing Natori's sides where the teeth had held him captive earlier. His clothes looked pretty ruffled, but he couldn't see any blood. He took that as a good sign.

The exorcist slowly nodded, dumbstruck. When he had finally gathered himself enough, he carefully made his way towards the odd pair sitting in the dirt.

Tama let out a low hiss, not letting him out of his sight. Takashi soothingly scratched the space between the horns.

"No, Tama. You don't need to worry. Natori is a friend," he said in a soft voice. The hissing stopped, but one large eye stayed trained on him.

Natori gently lowered himself down a few meters away from them. He studied the large bird-like creature to make sure it wouldn't attack, the second he'd let his guard down. After that he looked at Takashi.

"Natsume?" he asked calmly.

Takashi hummed in response.

"You do know that that's a dragon, right?"

"Yes, Natori-san, I'm aware," confirmed the boy. Natori nodded. "Okay, good. Great. Fantastic." A small bout of silence followed.

"His name is Tama," Takashi informed him and the Tatsumi gave an affirming chirp, as if he wanted to agree.

Natori stared blankly back at him. "That's great. Can you explain to me why you are currently cuddling with a dragon named Tama?" It was less a question than it was a demand for answers.

So Takashi told Natori the story of how he became a father.

How he had found Tama's egg in a bird's nest in his yard, how Nyanko-Sensei had sat on it for days to keep it warm and how it finally hatched. He explained that Tama had taken human form at first and how cute he had been. Takashi laughed when he recounted the times the child had bitten Sensei's stub tail. He talked about his fears he had back then when Tama got weaker and refused to eat. The story ended with the rat yokai's attack and Tama's growth spurt, after which they had to say goodbye.

Natori didn't interrupt him, only nodding and grinning from time to time. After Takashi finished he let out an exasperated sigh, which got betrayed by his fond smile.

"Oh, Natsume. Of course you would be the one to adopt an abandoned yokai," Natori huffed amused.

He moved closer and ruffled Takashi's hair. Tama made a small noise, but it was nothing aggressive. It rather sounded like a cackle. Takashi turned a slight shade of pink, entertaining the other two even more.

"Though I have to say," Natori admitted, "I didn't think you were this uncreative when it comes to names. Naming the dragon 'Tama' just because it hatched from an egg? A bit disappointing." The mirth in his tone was almost tangible.

Takashi squawked scandalized.

"Well, yeah! It is fitting and it is cute. Also it was Nyanko-Sensei's idea," the boy defended himself.

Natori raised his hands placatingly, his smile stretching even wider. "Of course it was that white pig-cat. Does he have anything other than food on his mind?"

Takashi just shrugged. "Sake?" he guessed. At that Natori started laughing, startling Tama slightly in the process.

They continued to sit on the ground for a while, chattering, laughing and indulging Tama with head pats and chin scratches. Sadly the sun didn't stop its descent and before they took notice it started to reach for the horizon.

Natori let out a sad sigh. "I'm sorry, Natsume, but I think we have to go. We still have to find a way out of this forest."

He stood up and held his hand out for Takashi, to help him up. Tama had moved his head, so instead of trapping the boy it was now resting beside his leg.

Takashi let himself be pulled to his feet. His gaze drifted across the clearing, looking towards the way they came earlier and then up to the sky. "Yeah, you are right. Can't risk missing dinner," he agreed.

Then he looked down at Tama and an idea crossed his mind.

With a big smile he turned to Natori.

"Natori-san, I know how we can get out of the woods fast." The exorcist gave him a questioning look, until he followed Takashi's eyes back towards Tama. At this he slightly paled.

"Let us go home, Tama."

The wind was gently brushing through Takashi's hair as Tama made his way across the sky, following in the sun's trail.

Natori and Takashi were huddled together on the broad feathery back between two strong wings. Flying with Tama was a lot different than flying with Madara. One could easily tell the patterns of their movement apart, probably due to Madara's lack of wings. Though both moved surprisingly smoothly and Takashi enjoyed traveling with either one.

Natori didn't look quite as happy, not able to relax his body one bit. Luckily for him they were moving fast. Soon Takashi could see familiar fields and roads. They avoided flying directly over the houses and then Tama was already landing behind the Fujiwara house.

Tama lowered himself and Natori and Takashi slid down from his back.

"Thank you, Tama," said Takashi and cuddled the long dragon neck.

They heard a window open from behind them and they quickly turned towards the house. In Takashi's window sat Nyanko-Sensei and looked at them. Takashi raised his hand and waved.

The cat hopped onto the roof and climbed down to them from there. He hobbled over to them and fixed Takashi with a glare.

"You're almost late for dinner. Touko is just finishing up last preparations in the kitchen," let Nyanko-Sensei him know. Takashi huffed. Of course. He should have seen that coming.

Then Nyanko-Sensei got smothered by a giant head. This drew an unexpected squawk from him. The two humans started laughing as the lucky cat got subjected to the same welcoming as Takashi had been earlier that day.

When Tama looked like he wouldn't let go of him in the near future, Takashi tugged at Natori's sleeve and dragged him towards the front door.

"You are eating dinner with us, Natori-san," decided the boy and Natori knew arguing with him wouldn't work when he made this determined face.

So while Nyanko-Sensei enjoyed the reunion with the egg he had warmed for days and then became the chick he had helped raise, Natori got to relish Touko Fujiwara's cooking skills.

Takashi was glad he had decided to accompany Natori today.

#natsume's book of friends #natsume yuujinchou #natsume week #natsume takashi #natori shuuichi #natsumeweek #natsumeweek 2022 #fanfic #fanfiction #natsume yūjin chō #tama

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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gh-0-stcup · 1 year ago

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Two more, but with very longer explanations:

Spike always hated Angelus, mainly for the torture he inflicted upon Dru.

Implied by a few of the other points above, but I'd like to address this idea in particular. As mentioned above, Spike and Angelus were canonically close. The friction between them was due to Angelus getting in between Spike's relationship with Drusilla.

Spike was happy when Angel lost his soul. He was about as excited as Dru for the family to be back together again. The proper hatred started in season 2, because of the cuckholding and the way Spike was being treated.

As far as I can recall, there is zero indication that Spike holds any sense of moral outrage on Drusilla's behalf. Spike didn't give a shit. If he had, Angelus wouldn't have been Spike's "Yoda". That really isn't the kind of thing you can know, care about, and still be buddies with the guy responsible while also being in love with his victim.

That being said, I do think it's possible to make a story where Spike does care about that somewhere deep down. But it does have to be deep down. Focus on the group's normalization of Angelus' behaviour and Drusilla's state of mind. If nobody else in his strange new family, including Drusilla herself, has a real issue with what happened - why would Spike? These were the people who taught him how to be a "proper" demon, how did their beliefs shape his own development?

You can even go for a sort of toxic masculinity allegory - Angelus was the ideal man demon, this was how real men demons were supposed to behave. Spike, who spent his time as a human being less than the ideal picture of masculinity, repressed his own values in his idolization of Angelus.

Idk, not the best but I think there's more interesting stories to be told with Spike rather than just twisting canon to make him more palatable.

Angelus was only sexually interested in young girls, particularly those who were vulnerable and easily manipulated.

Yes, this appears to be Angelus preferred victim profile. But the key word there is victim. The people Angelus liked torturing should not necessarily be equated to those he preferred being with in a sexual or romantic way.

If they were one and the same, Darla would not have been the woman he spent 140 years with. Angelus would also have liked Drusilla better than Darla, which he canonically did not.

Angel tells us himself exactly what kind of girl he's always been into - someone interesting, exciting. He likes strong women who challenge him. That's a commonality that ties all of Angel's various lives together.

Angelus undeniably had a thing for corrupting the pure, breaking the sweet and naive innocents that strayed across his path. This fed his sadism. As far as partners go? He wanted an actual partner. An equal who kept him on his toes.

"Life's boring - you're full of surprises." <- This is a key line that (like pretty much everything related to Angelus/Darla) is sadly overlooked. As I said above, Angelus and Darla worked because they were equal partners. She made his life interesting, he did the same for her. Their betrayals of each other didn't cut deeply because it was a game that kept them both entertained.

Random list of thints that bug me with portrayals of the Fanged Four in many fics:

Drusilla looking down on Spike/him not being "enough of a demon" for her.

Drusilla was thrilled with how Spike turned out. Seriously, look at their flashback scenes again - she adored him from the moment she set eyes on William. There are few moments of disapproval. When those happen she just looks at him with confusion and lets him get on with whatever he's doing.

Darla being (just) a materialistic ice queen. Super cold, barely any emotion outside of when there's torture or jewels involved.

Despite being very scornful of humans and sentiment, Darla was incredibly passionate and expressive. She was one of the most vibrant members of their family. This gal loved life. She could be very cold, but she was also often filled with emotion - she expressed joy, rage, sadness, even nurturing on occasion.

Darla blindly following along with Angelus or entirely letting him run the show. Often portrayed as her being too stupid/vapid to lead.

Darla was Angelus' sire. She taught him how to be who he was. She guided him along until he was able to stand on his own two feet. She was opinionated and had no problem leaving or killing him if he stepped out of line. Hell, she'd betray him just to add a bit of excitement to their lives.

The thing is, Angelus and Darla were partners. It may sometimes seem like one was letting the other have control, but their desires were almost always in sync. There didn't need to be a leader between the two of them because they were largely on the same page. That's why their relationship lasted as long as it did. I think this is one of the biggest things that gets neglected in fanfic.

Darla being less of a sadist than Angelus.

Darla was every bit as hungry as Angelus was. She egged him on, he came up with increasingly horrible forms of torture to entertain them both. It's not an accident that Valentine's Day was a very special holiday for Angelus.

Darla and Angelus being nothing but abusers to Drusilla and Spike.

There was friction between all members of the family at times. All were also shown to have some fondness for each other. Darla and Drusilla ended up being very close, as were Spike and Angelus.

Angelus (and sometimes Darla) despising everything about humanity and caring about nothing but hunting.

Angelus canonically had a good amount of appreciation for the finer things humans had created. He disliked how the Order of Aurelius lived apart from humanity in sewers, only going up to feed. He lured Darla away from the Master by promising her a better way of life, one where she could actually live.

Angelus cried at the ballet. He loved art, music, and having a good time. The two traveled the world. He's fluent in at least 10 languages, implying he had an interest in being able to communicate with people. Angelus and Darla were the OG party couple, committed to living their lives to the fullest.

Spike being disgusted by violence or having a genuine conscience pre-chip.

This shouldn't even need to be elaborated on imo. Sure, he was less into sadism than the others. But the idea that he had a shred of moral outrage over anything the other 3 did is ridiculous to me. This is the guy who gleefully hired a pedophile to torture Angelus.

Imo differences in his killing style isn't about morals or having more humanity, it's about what interests him. Like how some humans are super into football and others are like, "Ew, why? Sounds boring af."

Spike not enjoying Dru getting rough in the bedroom.

He is canonically a masochist.

#one spike and one angelus #fanged four #btvs #ats #angelus #spike #darla #drusilla

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retrievablememories · 3 years ago

Text

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth.

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.”

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late.

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face.

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

#taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong angst #nct vampire au #vampire au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #taeyong fic #nct angst #superm fic #superm scenarios #superm imagines #superm angst

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years ago

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Ch. Twelve

⚠WARNING: Swearing, arguments, mention of past character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“So, you’re the Osamu Y/N won’t stop talking about?”

You shove Makki’s face away from it’s imagined perch between yours and Osamu’s shoulders.

“Ouch! So mean~~~”

“You’re fine,” you reply with an eye roll. You knew your friends would want to tease you about Osamu’s appearance at group therapy, which just wrapped up. At least they waited until the five of you were outside and away from the other group session attendees. But that doesn’t mean that you welcome their inquisition.

“I apologize for my boyfriend.” Mattsun steps up. He offers his hand to Osamu. “Matsukawa Issei. The strawberry idiot is Hanamaki Takahiro.”

Osamu, still mute, reaches forward and grabs Mattsun’s hand. “Miya Osamu, but it looks like you know that already.”

You blush furiously as Mattsun grins at Osamu. “Yeah, we do.” Mattsun shoots you an evil look. “We all went to high school together, so we have all the dirt on Y/N whenever you want it.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” You interject and step between Mattsun and Osamu. You feel your face is burning with embarrassment so you turn your back to Osamu and give Mattsun a glare. He returns it with his own lecherous grin, with Makki perched on his shoulder with a shit-eating smile of his own.

A laugh behind you makes you crane your neck over your shoulder and you send another glare to Osamu.

“I might have to take ya up on that offer.”

You now realize that it may have been a bad idea to have Osamu, your dry, sarcastic friend, meet Mattsun and Makki, your dry, sarcastic and just as prone to stirring the pot friends.

“There will be no sharing of any stories, by anyone.” You know Mattsun and Makki have enough to fill books upon books of your previous exploits, but you’re also addressing Osamu, who for sure has a few embarrassing moments he could share.

Osamu, Mattsun and Makki chuchle at your request, and while you silently lament at that budding friendship that will only cause you future headaches, you notice Oikawa standing off to the side looking bored.

“Osamu, this is Oikawa Tooru,” you introduce him, knowing that he’s not jumping up to dazzle and charm. “Oikawa, this is Osamu.”

Oikawa turns his gaze to you, pausing to glare with all the contempt he can manage, before looking at Osamu. “I’ve just gone through an emotional and draining therapy session so I apologize for not being bright and unaffected like some of us.”

“Stop it,” you hiss at him. He’s not lying, as he always cries in group therapy (which you would never fault him for.) But you’re not sure if his jab at the end was directed at Osamu, who sat quiet and stoic for the entire meeting, or not.

Either way, Oikawa’s behavior right now is ridiculously inappropriate.

But Osamu just chuckles. “Nah, I get it. People have different emotional responses and cope differently.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply but his eyes narrowing means he’s not happy with Osamu’s mature response.

“Well after our sessions we usually go grab some dinner,” Makki says, trying to diffuse the tension. “You’re more than welcome to come with, Osamu.”

Bless your sweet heart, Makki, you think. He’s always nice and polite and you knew you could count on him to open the group to Osamu.

But of course Oikawa has to slam that door shut and lock it. “Oh, so sorry Osamu-kun but we actually have to discuss a gathering coming up soon.” He gives Osamu a simpering smile with no ounce of regret at all. “I’m sure you understand.”

Yet again, Osamu takes his rudeness in stride and nods. “Of course, I’m pretty tired anyway. But thanks for the invite.” He looks at you and smiles. “Coffee tomorrow?”

You nod, unable to speak around the rage bubbling in your gut. You don’t react when Osamu waves to your friends and walks away - you’re zeroed-in on Oikawa, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. You keep your anger reigned in as it threatens to explode.

“Oikawa,” you start in a low voice. Your teeth are grit together and your hands are shaking.

“I’m feeling dumplings for dinner.” Oikawa doesn’t even acknowledge you calling out to him before turning away and heading up the sidewalk. He also doesn’t bother checking to see if you guys are following him.

The arrogance and gall that Oikawa's showing to you guys, his friends, makes you see red. You open your mouth to scream when a hand rests on your arm.

“Not here,” Mattsun says. “Let’s talk like adults, c’mon.”

He pulls you forward, Makki flanking your other side. The three of you follow Oikawa's figure, now several yards ahead. You know your friends are close to you to try and keep you calm but your brain is supplying reason upon reason to pummel Oikawa into the ground.

He’s waiting for you all outside of a restaurant your group frequents, and when he spots you getting closer he goes inside.

He’s delusional if he thinks he’s safe there.

When you walk inside you catch him getting a table for four. Mattsun walks ahead and takes the empty seat next to Oikawa, leaving you and Makki to sit across from them. You’re glaring daggers at Oikawa, who still hasn’t looked your way.

The table is silent, even when a waiter comes by, fills the water glasses, and leaves. You don’t look away from Oikawa as he peruses the menu. The anger you feel is nearly boiling over, the contained fury making your hands shake again. The culmination of events from the past few weeks has brought you to this moment - it just took Oikawa being unnecessarily rude to Osamu, someone who does not deserve that kind of behavior, for you to finally address the issue.

“Oh, maybe we should do dumplings for Iwa-chan’s picnic celebration.”

Like a rubber band, you snap.

Your hand comes down on the table, hard. “I cannot believe how rude you were to Osamu. You had no right!”

Out of the corner of your eye you see other patrons glancing at your table, and Mattsun and Makki look ready to step in and intervene. But your eyes are trained on Oikawa, who has finally met your gaze. His eyes are sharp and his mouth pulled down.

“Well Osamu-kun wasn't the friendliest either.” Oikawa shoots back. “It wouldn’t have hurt him to be a bit more outgoing.”

“You said it yourself. It was an emotional and draining therapy session.” You smile meanly, relishing in throwing the words back in Oikawa’s face. “And it doesn’t help that you were being a total prick.”

“Hey guys, c’mon.” Makki speaks up but is ignored.

Oikawa replies to you scathingly. “Well excuse me for not wanting to be BFFS with the person that you’re replacing us with!”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, exasperated.

“You heard me.” Oikawa snaps. “You’ve barely been talking to us or hanging out with us since meeting Osamu, and it’s obvious that we’re being replaced.”

You laugh, tickled at Oikawa’s audacity. “I spent nearly every day with you last week, how can you say I’m replacing you?!”

“You’re only there because I asked you to be!” Neither if you are shouting yet but you know it’s not far off. “You’re not even there all the time, you’re texting Osamu when you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“Well maybe it’s because Osamu doesn’t make me feel like shit, and doesn’t constantly guilt me into being your friend.”

“Or maybe it’s because he’s giving you the kind of attention that we can’t give you.”

You freeze, a loud ringing echoing in your ears. “Excuse me?”

“Knock it off, guys.” Mattsun’s request falls on deaf ears. You’re both wading into dangerous territory, and some part of your brain is telling you to back off unless you want to ruin your friendship with Oikawa. But another, more feral part of your brain is telling you to ruin him.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is Oikawa, but maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating your friends. And then realize that’s why no one wants to hang out with you.

“Maybe you’ll realize that monopolizing our time and punishing us for doing things without you isn’t the best way to keep us around.”

You don’t stop the sneer that comes across your face. “And you say that I’m a shit friend - you’ve haven’t been keeping up with me either. Makki and Mattsun are the only ones who have asked me how I’ve been. They’re the only ones who noticed that I’ve been losing weight and sleeping less. They’re the only ones who’ve asked if I’m okay when I’m clearly not, because they use their goddamn eyes and actually give a shit about someone other than themselves!

“I can barely get myself out of bed in the morning but somehow I still made time to wait on you hand and foot, and this is the thanks I get?” You're breathing heavily at the end of your rant, staring down your friend across the table.

Oikawa doesn’t give any indication that your words had any effect on him. “What do you want, Y/N?” He asks patronizingly. “You want a pass because you’re tired? We’re all fucking tired. You want sympathy because you miss Iwa-chan? We ALL miss him. What, do you think you’re special because you’re in love with him?”

A horrid silence settles on the table, more devastating than any barb you or Oikawa have flung at each other. You feel your heart jolt painfully in your chest and the air is pulled from your lungs in a whoosh.

“What?” Makki asks faintly.

You’re frozen still, staring at Oikawa who now has a matching look of horror on his face. His breathing picks up, and his eyes shimmer.

“What are you talking about?” Makki asks, his voice a bit stronger than before.

“Y/N.” You thaw enough to turn your head and meet Mattsun’s dark eyes boring into yours. “Do you love Iwaizumi?”

You glance back to Oikawa, who’s eyes have filled with tears. “Y/N-chan,” he gets out, audibly fighting through his tears.

Another beat passes before your flight instinct fully kicks in and you take off.

Your friends call after you, Oikawa’s distressed voice louder than the rest, but you don’t stop. You head out into the sidewalk, not bothering to stop the tears falling as you walk home alone.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And there it is....Y/N's secret is out. Definitely not in the way that anyone wanted, let's hope things even out in the aftermath (😬😬😬) Thank you all for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @@bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr

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phoenixtakaramono · 4 years ago

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Character Design Thoughts for Shen Yuan & Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky in ‘The Untold Tale’

(This is a Follow Up to This Post)

Hello, @averydrearydiana! Loved reading through your tags! I’m excited that you’re excited! Since I’m also seeing comments on AO3 speculating about how our transmigrators are going to appear as in The Untold Tale, I might as well give my current thoughts and have this archived on tumblr for future reference.

A fun fact about TUT is that a lot of the imagery in the story is inspired by Chinese PVs and popular C-dramas and literature. Since TUT is conceived as a lovestory to SVSSS, one element that I’d wanted to incorporate is playful attempts at satirical genre deconstruction. With that comes with me playfully poking fun at some clichés or things I’ve noticed in Chinese works.

Shen Yuan’s Celestial Design

Before I talk about his mortal appearance, I have to give a lil context about his celestial design in the story. We already know what he looks like as the celestial fortuneteller in TUT’s cover art that I’ve already posted on tumblr. As everyone knows, I was heavily inspired by this Chinese PV:

youtube

(TUT ch1 - Excerpt)

Among the things I’ve noticed are the fictional characters with white hair. We have a whole subculture of fans liking male character designs with white hair in anime and animation. Taking that a step further, they’ve even shown up in C-dramas, i.e. Teng She from Love and Redemption (technically more blond than platinum white, but shhhhh, just let me have this), Dong Hua Dijun from Eternal Love of Dream aka Three Lives Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (rest assured, I’m aware of the source material’s controversy, but let’s not get into that here), etc. One of the tags for TUT is Opposites Attract. Luo Binghe’s color coordination is aligned with black and red mostly. Now, visually speaking, what’s the opposite of that?

The yin yang symbol.

Fun fact, besides black vs white, green (SY) is the complementary color of red (LBG) on the color wheel. Now taking everything I’ve said, to take it even one step further, my thought process at the time was, “why not go the extra mile then and just have SY be albino? Within context of the Heavenly Realm, that character design makes sense.” TUT is me subtly riffing off what I can (for the good ol’ meta humor), but making the content come across as a legitimate story experience. As Protagonist A and Protagonist B, LBG and SY have to look visually striking together. With all that said, let’s talk about....

(In reference to the original tumblr post)

Shen Yuan (Mortal)

I’ll keep some elements of his albinism from his celestial form (light sensitivity and pale skin mostly), but SY’s mortal form is essentially SY pre-transmigration but within context of the xianxia genre.

For his appearance, let’s just keep this Author’s Note^ and TUT’s summary in the back of our brains. This is the fanvid I was originally inspired by for SY’s mortal appearance:

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(TUT Summary - Excerpt)

For what he wears, I’m currently feeling very heavily inspired by this PV:

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His mortal appearance wouldn’t be considered as “strange” or “otherworldly” compared to the “ethereal fairy-like beauty” SY retains in the Heavenly Realm, but as a side-effect of the 【PROTAGONIST’S HALO】 and his +20 CHARISMA stat, he would still be considered attractive to people even when he takes on a mortal appearance. (Mainly, I like the idea of Bing gē taking large shots of vinegar seeing SY turning heads no matter which appearance SY takes on, and Luo Binghe glaring at these “insects” for even “daring to lay their unworthy eyes on his fated person.” The thought of it just makes me laugh.)

What I mean by how SY’s mortal form being very much based on how SY appeared pre-transmigration but in the xianxia genre context, I mean he’ll have his dark hair (but longer), a “scholarly air” (as a nod to his novelist background), dark eyes, and even his glasses technically (the divine monocle mentioned in ch3, which is also a subtle nod to Sha Po Lang and a riff on men wearing monocles in other Chinese works andit’salsoforeshadowingbutshhhh).

(TUT ch3 - Excerpt)

Shen Yuan originally was an author in his forties pre-transmigration, so I like the idea him having a mature air about him in the Cultivation World as well. So for both our Protagonist B’s celestial and mortal appearances, the idea is that you can look at him and immediately recognize him as a protagonist of the danmei setting. My only two prerequisites are that his appearance screams “hello, I’m Protagonist B” and that he appears in “scholarly” attire.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky (Mortal)

Keeping in mind the original tumblr post where I wrote my thoughts on who I’m transmigrating him as, currently I’m thinking it’s a combination of these two PVs for his mortal form:

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As a nod to him being a successful novelist, I wanted him to also appear scholarly. A scholarly crown prince, if you will. For his attire, imagine all the C-drama clothing you’ve seen actors wear in period dramas, and you already have a good idea already of the direction I’m heading down.

As the prince of the cannon fodder emperor, I very much like the idea of Airplane perhaps having a baby face and brown hair (as a small nod to fanon!SQH from SVSSS) but with a great body (a huge source of inspiration are clothing worn by Prince Yu and Prince Jing of the three princes from the C-drama Nirvana in Fire). Since Airplane will also be able to select his Character Creation stats like Shen Yuan had, one thing I’m fairly certain is that he will max out his CONSTITUTION—because “game logic” and not wanting to die. (For those who don’t know, the CON stat in tabletop RPs essentially indicates a person’s overall health, wellbeing, and vigor checks...so him maxing it out is equivalent to him being as invulnerable as a cockroach. A high CON means overall healthiness, which means your character probably is full of energy and vitality, can heal rapidly, and will rarely get sick—if ever. Low CON usually means a higher susceptibility to sickness and disease, wounds that fester and linger, and a general fatigue would haunt you, etc.) Like how SY zeroed in on his CHA, Airplane would have prioritized +20 CON (+5 modifier), especially knowing the fate that’d await him as a prince and the vicious environment that is expected for palace intrigue plots (the harem is a big factor, with concubines and consorts and even the empress sabotaging each other—just to win the favor of one man). Against poison or whatnot which is a cliché in palace intrigue plots, rather than relying on luck, you typically stand a better chance of passing the CON check if you have a high modifier aiding your checks. He’s basically become impervious to illnesses, most poisons (probably being able to spring back quickly), and is considered the healthiest prince in all the mortal imperial line. <- This could be taken both seriously and humorously simultaneously.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky (Deity/ Celestial)

For Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī’s “actual divine body” that is currently asleep and won’t be awakened until Airplane completes his mortal trial to “regain his cultivation powers,” the face should obviously be similar but, as Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī, he would appear regal and dignified as a god of this world:

Imagine something along the lines of mortal Airplane as the man on the right, celestial Shen Yuan in the center, and deity/ celestial Airplane as the man on the left. I envision a respectable appearance that would knock the air out of Mobei jūn and make him recognize Airplane despite any visual dissimilarities, and in a way we have the Four Beauties of China: Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan, Mobei jūn, and Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī.

I will say I currently have an idea of making Airplane have “golden” eyes in both his celestial and mortal forms. (Spoiler alert: in my notes, I’d written down to give Airplane yellow eyes as an Easter egg to Yanxi Palace, I believe, where there was an episode where someone of the imperial harem schemed against the empress and almost had the newborn baby killed because that and the yellow skin was an inauspicious omen. We later find out through a timely intervention that the true reason was due to jaundice—because of the diet/ pregnancy cravings she ate for a period of time which resulted in her son’s symptoms. With Airplane’s high CON and another trope I’m bringing in which’ll have to do with the Medicine King’s Valley/ Valley of the Medicine King, his yellow eyes are the only side effect that lingered from that traumatic event which would have killed him had they gotten away with their scheme. A lot of palace dramas have to do with the vicious harem plots, so this would potentially be one such example.) The reason being that this is the identifying marker for MBJ to clue in that they’re the same man he will have loved. And I think that has romantic potential.

Misc.

Now addressing the other tags, yes, essentially speaking, Mobei jūn might just very well experience his very own Big Damn Reunion trope that Bing mèi had suffered from SVSSS. Poor MBJ. He’s in a tumultuous ride of his own with him considering Airplane as his own fated person, hahaha. But for the Moshang dynamic, I want him—a demon—to find himself taken with Airplane in his mortal guise—and subsequently his true celestial appearance once he finds out. I very much also want SY to jokingly snark to his fellow transmigrator-and-writing-colleague about him getting in a relationship with his own “creation” (MBJ). And Airplane would jokingly snark back about SY “ruining his ‘first son’ as well” (LBG). If you can read between the lines of that, then kudos. I’m glad to hear you’re looking forward to the palace intrigue.

I’m especially very happy to hear you’re looking forward to the descriptions! I personally love worldbuilding in the stories I consume I’m an interior designer and realtor irl, so I’m glad my love of house details and landscape, etc shows in TUT. For the pseudohistorical vibe, in the Mortal Realm, I will be referencing the Forbidden City of our Chinese history and a couple popular period C-dramas. Take the settings of period C-dramas like Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace, Yanxi Palace, and Nirvana in Fire as examples for what will be awaiting us when we finally meet Airplane in his mortal body. In the Heavenly Realm, the descriptions will be heavily referencing shows that contain aesthetics such as those of Ashes of Love, Love and Redemption, and Eternal Dream.

Take this with a grain of salt just in case I change my mind later on, but in the chapter when we meet Airplane for the first time, I probably won’t say which character he is in the first scene. I’ll give plenty of hints in the first scene so that you all can make your guesses before the big reveal, but I’m fairly confident you all or most of you will be able to pinpoint who he is among the cannon fodders. We’ll meet the emperor, who is discussing with his sons about the matter regarding the approaching calamity that is Luo Binghe. Then when we transition into the second scene, we’ll know exactly which “royal prince OC” it is that our beloved Airplane has transmigrated into, hahaha.

(*Keep in mind, for everything written above, some details are subject to change. Nothing is official until it appears in the story, or I’ve actually drawn my ideas out and posted online to both my tumblr and twitter. These are just my current thoughts.)

A goal of mine for TUT is to make the story widely accessible, meaning it doesn’t matter if the reader is new to the SVSSS fandom or aren’t familiar with the Easter egg references or meta jokes or subtext or even the Chinese culture, or even if English is not their first language. Having knowledge beforehand might help someone notice more hidden details in TUT, yes, but it is a humble wish of this writer for her esteemed readers to be able to dive into the story and get the enjoyable feeling like they’re reading a genuine danmei novel. It really makes me smile whenever I hear feedback that I am able to emulate that experience.

Very exciting developments indeed are in store!

#svsss #bingyuan #moshang #mobei jun #bingqiu #the scum villain's self saving system #the untold tale #phoenixtakaramono #phoenix talks #ask #averydrearydiana #technically not an ask #but i like to categorize it there #it’s very much like we have 2 forbidden romances ay?#There is so much I wanted to reply back to #so just know I read them all #and treasured everything you wrote in your tags #there will indeed be a transmigrator reveal bt SY and Airplane #to their bfs they can only come so close #SY will come REALLY close but of course the System will filter his words #so SPOILER ALERT an example would be SY saying I remember things in my past life clearly #In Chinese reincarnation mythos you don’t typically keep memories of any of your past lives #in some tales and C-dramas you basically drink a potion/ cup of forgetfulness to wipe your memory #before you are allowed to reincarnate into your next life etc #ah yes war strategist SY will make plenty more appearances in TUT lololol #I love your tag about LBH showing off the pelt and being like LoOk At WhAt My Bf GaVe Me aka My Bf iS BeTtEr ThAn YoUr Bf/Gf #the scene when Airplane finds out his fellow transmigrator has screwed him over will be one for the history books #meaning I will derive so much amusement from it but we will be nice and help him escape the brunt of LBH’s malice #MBJ connecting through dots will be fun too bc HeY tHiS iS mY bAe JuNsHaNg #Jūnshàng meaning the Great Exalted One aka replacing Huangshang aka emperor

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gingeralepdf · 4 years ago

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Walk On By - Part 2

A/N: yay!!!!!! another installment in the shroomrry cinematic universe is here!! i want to say a huge thank you to el ( @harrytheehottie ) and brailey ( @daydreamsofh ) for being excellent beta readers and supporters. <3 <3

and thank you to everyone who has shown my writing love. i truly appreciate it so much. i hope you like this part just as much as the first one. :-)

if you haven’t read part 1, catch up here!!

🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: just under 5k

**September 15th, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

The brakes on your car squeal as you pull into the last empty spot along the curb and shift into park. The music from your radio comes to an abrupt stop when you turn the key back to shut the engine off. Your head hits the headrest behind you before you empty your lungs into the silence.

Cars drive past on the street to your left. It’s just past five thirty, so all of the after work traffic is in full swing.

You’ve been avoiding this errand for two weeks now. There’s a record that you’ve been wanting to get your hands on ever since one of your coworkers played it at a work function. After looking through shelf after shelf in all of your favorite shops in L.A., and even making some calls to shops in surrounding areas, they’ve all come up short.

This seems to be your very last resort. Right across the street, sandwiched between a donut shop and a hair salon, is Jupiter House Records. From what you remember, this shop has a really good selection and variety, but the handful of unpleasant interactions you’ve had with the owner have been enough to make you look somewhere else. You’ve been stubbornly avoiding this place for years. Now you have a whole other reason for not wanting to spend hours in this store digging through to find your favorites or discover new ones.

Harry works here.

You haven’t seen him since he showed up on your doorstep to return your address book. The conversation you had with Jenny when she came home from work that evening plays through your mind again.

Both of you plop down on opposite sides of the couch in your living room. You sigh and take a big sip from your glass of wine before explaining the whole interaction to her, starting from the moment you opened the door to the moment you saw him drive away in his car.

Jenny grins. The only sound in the room comes from the ticking of the clock on the wall as you wait for her response. “I think he likes you.”

You squint. “That’s what you’re taking away from all of that?”

Her eyes widen and she springs forward, almost sloshing the wine out of her glass when she sets it on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re telling me he saw the ‘If lost please return to..’ in your address book and decided to make a trip to our house to return it to you in person, when he could have just sent it in the mail?”

You can feel a crease forming between your eyebrows and you take in a sharp breath, fully prepared to counter her point, but she barrels through.

“And he wanted to ‘make sure you were okay’. Out of all the dealers that we’ve met, how many have just shown up at our houses to check up on us? Zero.”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue the fact that this alone sets Harry apart. However, this doesn’t mean he likes you. Maybe it just means that he’s the kind of person that goes the extra mile for the people he does business with. He could have easily left you and Jen sitting on the sidewalk after the concert, but he decided to help, to do what any other good-natured person would do.

“And let’s not forget how he threw the paper on the doorstep so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way down the driveway.” Jenny clutches her chest and swoons.

Scoffing at the way she’s adding dramatics, you challenge, “How do you know he didn’t show up here to see you?”

“He didn’t ask about me, did he?”

“No,” you begrudgingly mumble into your glass.

She grabs her glass from the coffee table and gives you a knowing look. She’s made her point, and the more it lingers like the aftertaste of wine, the more conflicted you become.

You’ve spent more idle moments than you’d like to admit since then thinking about the night you were sitting outside of the Forum. Thinking about what possessed you to lean in and study his face so closely. Was it solely the effects of the drugs? If that’s the case, then why do you want to go back to that moment so badly? And why didn’t Harry pull away? Did he really blush when you were staring at him? Was his heart really racing when you gave him a hug, or was that just your wild imagination?

The honking of a car brings you out of your thoughts. You take a deep breath and trill your lips. There’s a slight break in traffic. If you don’t get out of your car and cross the street now, you fear you’ll stay here stuck in your thoughts all evening.

With a huff, you rip your keys from the ignition and push your door open. You cross the street, walking with a purpose, and make it to the sidewalk.

The full strength of your nerves doesn’t hit you until you’re just in front of the store and the glass door swings out with a simultaneous chime of a bell. Your heart drops from your chest to your stomach and you freeze on the sidewalk to avoid colliding with the man exiting the shop.

When he stops to hold the door open for you, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You mutter a ‘thank you’ as your hand firmly grips the cool metal of the door handle. Almost like you’re using it as a crutch to get you through the threshold.

Your shoes meet the shaggy mustard yellow carpet, matted down by years of customer traffic.

A woman that looks about your age greets you from behind a counter to your right. You return her half smile and she goes back to flipping through the magazine on the counter in front of her. The nametag on her floral shirt reads ‘Nora’. Behind her is a door with a red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign taped to it.

Underneath the counter that she’s leaning on is a glass case holding records and cassette tapes, all marked ‘deluxe’ or ‘limited edition’. Spread out next to them are a few t-shirts, buttons, and stickers with the store logo printed on them.

You weren’t expecting it to be so quiet. Right now it seems like you and Nora are the only people in the store. The coast is clear. You can relax a bit. The adrenaline rush you were feeling on the other side of the door has now been replaced by the whirring of the air vents and David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch” playing over the speakers.

You turn to your left to take in the rest of the store, meandering into the first row of record shelves.

The large window taking up the entire front wall lets in plenty of evening sun that warms your skin through your shirt. More shelves, each one three tiers deep, line the rest of the walls and create aisles in the middle of the room.

Signs hanging from the ceiling above each section indicate the genre. The one you’re standing next to is labeled ‘new releases’ with a smaller font that reads ‘alpha by artist’. Other sections are labeled country, rock, disco, classical. Your eyes land on the back corner of the store where the funk, soul, and jazz sections are.

You make your way over while pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

Unsure of which specific section the record you’re looking for will be in, you decide to start on one end of the corner and search all the way through to the other in hopes of finding it.

You fall into a familiar routine of searching through the first tier, then the second, leaning over to search through the top tier, and then taking a step over to start the whole process again.

Once you’re about halfway through the soul section, the bell on the door chimes again. You can’t be bothered to look, not wanting to lose your place.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Goddamnit. Your hands freeze their movements and your heart begins to race all over again. You know exactly who just walked through that door.

“Harry,” Nora admonishes, “I finally have a date after two months and you’re gonna make me late.”

Harry’s mumbled response is drowned out by the loud creak of the door behind the counter, but judging by Nora’s gasp and the unmistakable thwack of a magazine, maybe it’s better left between the two of them.

You begin to slowly file through records again, this time not paying much attention to what you’re doing. More-so to give your hands something to do and appear busy while trying to hear the rest of their conversation.

Nora sighs, “It’s been really slow today. Hopefully it’s a slow night for you.” All you hear is some shuffling before she adds, “Oh, boss wanted me to remind you not to play the music too loud.”

“Did he? Dunno what he’s talking about,” Harry says, feigning innocence.

Nora laughs, “Whatever.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of keys and footsteps across the carpet.

Harry raises his voice from the back room, “Are you gonna punch out?”

“Will you do it for me? I’ve gotta go.”

“Sure.”

The bell on the door rings and Nora yells from the doorway, “I left three boxes in the back for you to restock!”

“Oh thanks,” Harry yells back with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Bye,” she sings as she walks out.

The door slams behind her. The bell’s high pitched ringing seems to hang in the air.

Silence falls on the room when the song playing over the speakers stops suddenly, making the room quiet enough to hear the traffic outside. You hear a needle drop and after a few seconds, the opening guitar notes of “Can You Get to That” by Funkadelic begin to play. The corners of your mouth turn down to fight a smile when the volume is promptly turned up much louder than what it was when you walked in.

You take a sharp breath in, realizing that you’re going to have to turn around at some point. Surely you can’t just stay in this corner and keep your back turned to him until the place closes. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. Will he even recognize you after not seeing you for weeks?

There’s not much time to decide what to do when the sound of footsteps approaching on the carpet is getting closer to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear his voice.

“Finding everything alright?”

You turn your head to the left.

Harry is standing a few shelves apart from you with a box propped between the shelf and his hip. The sunlight from the window shines through the ends of his hair and the sleeves of his white t-shirt when he grabs a record from the box and reaches out to carefully wedge it back into the right place. You scan down to where his shirt is tucked into a pair of dark brown corduroy pants, and further down to see a pair of dirty white sneakers peeking out from the ends of the flares. When he turns his head to the box again, you notice that his mustache is significantly thinner from the last time you saw each other.

Heat rushes up your neck and onto your face when he glances up at you.

His hand pauses in the air and his eyebrows raise slightly before the corners of his mouth do the same, revealing just a hint of his dimples. His head tilts back and he blinks in surprise. “Oh… hi.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when he addresses you by name. Mirroring his smile and turning your shoulders to face him, you reply, “Hi. I… didn’t know you worked here.”

A flat out lie, but thankfully he doesn’t seem too suspect about it.

He frowns and looks down at his shirt, pulling it out in front of him to reveal his nametag. “Hm. M’ afraid I do,” he says flatly.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, amused at the way he’s effortlessly making sarcastic remarks like this with you and his coworker. Quite different from the stiffly awkward interactions you’ve had with him. It’s like you’re seeing him in his natural environment. Him being at ease is having the same effect on you.

“Do you need help finding anything?” he asks, continuing his previous actions, this time with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes,” you clear your throat, “I’m looking for this specific record. I’ve looked all over for it by now. I’m pretty sure it should be in one of these sections if you have it, but...” you trail off as you cast a glance over your shoulder to the shelves you have yet to go through.

“I can take a look in our inventory. Save you some time?”

Of course. Why didn’t you just ask about that when you first walked in? “Sure. That would be great.”

Harry hoists the box into the crook of his arm with a faint grunt and you follow him over to the counter. After setting the box at the end of the countertop, he walks to the other end and reaches underneath the register, pulling out a large beat up binder with ‘inventory’ written on the spine.

It lands on the counter with a plop, probably due to the huge stack of paper inside, separated by multicolored tabs.

“What’s the artist’s name?” he asks after opening the binder to the first page.

“The Equatics.”

He pulls on the ‘A’ tab and folds it over.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Equatics with an ‘E’.”

He tuts and shakes his head before tracing his finger down and pulling on the ‘E’ tab. “Equatics with an ‘E’,” he mumbles.

You fold your lips between your teeth.

Now you’re thankful for the loud music filling the room as you’re standing wordlessly in front of the counter watching him flip through the pages of the inventory binder. Hair hangs in front of his face as his head is tilted down to scan over the pages, all filled with scribbles, arrows, and notes in the margins written in blue, black, and red ink. It all means nothing to you, especially looking at it upside down. You can only imagine how tedious it must be to keep up with.

With his left hand pressed flat against the counter, the expanse of his arm is right in front of you. Hopefully he can’t feel your eyes surveying his tattoos, at least the ones you can see from this angle. A small cross on his hand, an anchor on his wrist, the tail of a mermaid, a delicate rose near his elbow, a heart just beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

He inhales sharply and clears his throat into his fist, “Looks like we do have it. It’s actually in our as-is section.” As he’s speaking, he spins the binder in your direction and slides his finger almost to the bottom of the page to point out where it lists the artist, album title, and the section it’s in.

Despite the relief that comes with finally finding something you’ve been searching for, your face falls a bit. You know that ‘as-is’ is often just a nice way of saying that something is heavily used. “Does that mean it’s… damaged?”

Harry hums and tilts his head to the side, not meeting your eyes until he responds.

“Not always. Honestly we’re pretty much required to put stuff in that section even if it’s just the sleeve that’s messed up. Sometimes the record itself is still in great condition. You can still find some good stuff in there.”

“Okay. Where’s the as-is section?” You don’t remember seeing a sign for it when you walked in, unless you just overlooked it.

“Right. It's, uh, down this hallway here. Kind of hidden.”

Harry rounds the end of the counter and you follow him over to a doorway covered with a ruby red beaded curtain. Harry pulls it to the side and steps through first, pausing to hold the curtain back for you. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and step into a long hallway that extends to your right.

He releases the curtain, letting the beads crash together, before starting down the hallway.

Both walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of cassette tapes, with each row of shelving just tall enough to fit their size. There’s so much packed in this long stretch of narrow space, like a condensed, fluorescent-lit cornucopia.

“I had no idea all of this was back here,” you comment, slightly dumbfounded that you probably would have overlooked this hallway entirely if it hadn’t been pointed out to you.

“Yeah, lots of people think it’s off limits because of the curtain. I need to put some signs up or something.”

As you’re walking behind Harry, you realize you were too distracted before to see print on the back of his shirt, let alone make out what it said. Bold purple font reads ‘MY MIND IS UP ON THE MOUNTAINS’ with a smaller font at the bottom that reads ‘(and i didn’t even have to climb)’. The words are surrounded by a sun, a few flowers, a picture of a mountain, and two mushrooms on the bottom.

A smirk creeps onto the corner of your mouth at how incredibly on the nose it seems for him. It makes you wonder if anyone here knows about his other job, or if he’s hiding in plain sight.

Once you’re both about a third of the way down the hallway, there’s a gap in the shelves on the right filled by a nondescript doorway.

“Here we are.” Harry stops and reaches on the other side of the doorway to flip the light switch before stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in first.

You step into a small room. It only contains two long folding tables pushed against opposite walls. Rather than fancy, neat shelves, the records here are stored in milk crates and cardboard boxes lined up on the tops of the tables. It almost looks like you’ve come across a garage sale.

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips to the side as you walk up to the first box at the end of the table closest to the door. When you reach in, Harry speaks up.

“I could help you look for a bit, if you want.”

Harry’s now leaning against the doorframe, running a hand against his jaw. Do you see a slight tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well?

“I don’t really have anything better to do. Plus this section... isn’t really organized,” he continues.

You bring your attention back to the box in front of you, a sharp breath escaping your nose when you turn the Johnny Cash record back to reveal a Mozart one behind it. “I can see that.”

“But if you want to look around by yourself I understand, I can leave you to it,” he says, already slightly backing up into the hallway.

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company. You could take that table and I’ll take this one?” Your own words surprise you as you’re speaking them. Moments ago you had been dreading crossing paths with him again, but now that you’re having a moment that feels comfortable, you find yourself wanting him to stick around longer.

A curiosity is growing in your mind, wondering if Harry is feeling the same way, if that’s why he offered to help, if that’s why he slowly joins you in the room and mirrors your position at the table behind you so you’re not standing back to back.

You both search through the crates without a word, only the faint sound of the music from the front room coming down the hallway. Meanwhile, your thoughts are going back and forth between Jenny insisting that this man likes you and talking yourself out of that idea, insisting that he’s simply being nice, doing his job.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard, taking a moment to realize that he’s actually said it out loud. “Um. I’ve been good. Nothing exciting going on, just working a lot. You?”

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve been working a lot too. Where do you work? Don’t think I’ve asked you.”

“Do you ever listen to KIIS-FM?”

“Yes?” He responds, possibly thinking that you’re trying to shift the subject.

You smile to yourself, “You’re welcome. I’m a sound engineer there.”

“Oh shit,” he says enthusiastically. “That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

Briefly turning to look at him, your smile grows wider when you read the interest and excitement on his face. An expression you’re seeing for the first time in him, and it's because of something about you. Your heart flutters and you turn back to your table.

“Most days, I do. It can be a real dick fest sometimes though. Not in a good way.”

Despite mumbling the last sentence, Harry seems to still pick it up.

He barks out a laugh. You turn, eyes wide, to see his shoulders shaking and him covering his mouth with his hand.

When he turns back to you, clearly making a lot of effort to compose himself, he places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh yeah, the way you laughed really convinced me,” you lightheartedly roll your eyes.

“No it’s just… the way you said it was really funny,” he says, chuckling through his words. He continues, “So you studied engineering at UCLA then?”

Your eyebrows crease as his words hang in the air. You guess it’s not wild to assume that people who live in L.A. have attended UCLA. However, since you’ve never mentioned any kind of schooling to Harry, you can only gather that he’s making that assumption from the UCLA t-shirt you were wearing when he showed up at your house.

“I thought I remembered Jenny mentioning that you both went there.” His tone is cautious now, hesitant even. Like he’s picked up on his own blunder.

You decide to brush over it and simply nod, “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually.”

You return to looking through the crate in front of you. You gasp when you see the familiar red cover of the album you’re looking for.

You feel Harry turn around behind you. “Find it?”

You pull it from the crate. The bold red cover with a blue-grey circle in the middle, running your finger over the lines and arrows creating rings around it with a few stars placed here and there. You turn to smile at Harry, holding up the record in place of an answer, too excited to form words. The paper dust liner crinkles as you slide the plastic disc from the sleeve. Holding it by the edges, you tilt it to the left, to the right, and hold it up closer to the light to inspect it. Your shoulders visibly fall when you spot a long scratch running from the middle to the edge.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing the record closer to your face. You lightly run your finger over the scratch. It doesn’t feel rough, you actually can’t feel it at all. A fraction of hope is restored knowing that the scratch isn’t too deep into the grooves. However, there’s no way to know if it’s unplayable unless you actually try to play it.

Harry seems to read your mind. “You could test it out on the player up front if you want.”

“Really?” You spin around, seeming to shock him judging by the way his upper body slightly jerks back. “I mean-- I would appreciate that. If it’s not too much--”

He shakes his head, “It’s not a problem.” He walks toward the door where he waits for you to gather everything up.

The front of the store quiet once you both emerge from the other side of the curtain.

“I liked your choice of work music, by the way,” you say once you’ve both made it back to the counter, hugging your record to your chest.

“Oh yeah, Maggot Brain. S’ a fun album.”

You lean forward to rest your forearms against the smooth wood of the counter, waiting while he takes the record off the player to make room for yours. “Do you listen to a lot of funk music?”

“I do. I’ve never really understood why some people aren’t into it. What’s not to love, right?”

“Exactly! My coworker showed me this album and I think it’s one of my favorites now. It was recorded by this group of high school students in seventy two. They won some studio time in a contest or something and they really made the most of it.”

“Hm. M’ excited to listen to it now.” He stretches his hand out, “I’ll take that.”

You hand over the album. “Could you start it on track two? I think that’s my favorite one.”

“Sure.” He places the record on the player and carefully moves the needle in place.

A warm feeling washes over you when you hear the familiar soft guitar and drum beat at the beginning of the song. You both stand in place as the bass line comes in and all of the instruments’ parts crescendo.

Once the beat drops and the main guitar comes in, Harry turns to you with raised eyebrows and an impressed smile.

“Amazing, right?” you ask through a chuckle.

“It’s really good.”

“I know! And I don’t notice the scratch at all. It sounds perfect.”

“S’ exciting. I’m glad you found it.”

He walks over to where you are and starts to inspect the sleeve, turning it over to read the back. He adopts a similar position as you, forearms resting on the counter as he taps his fingers on his bicep to the beat of the song.

“That guitar part is amazing.”

He’s leaning close enough now that you can see a hint of stubble along his jawline and his upper lip. His cologne, a swirl of vanilla and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks up when you don’t respond and you avert your eyes immediately.

“I think so too,” you mumble.

“I find it crazy how something really amazing can be right in front of you for so long and you never notice it or you just keep missing it.” A pause. “This has been in the back room for… I don’t even know how long, and I probably never would have listened to it if you hadn’t been looking for it.” Another brief pause as he scratches at his chin, seeming to be in deep thought. He shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird, but I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. That can happen with… so many things, too.”

“Like people.”

His eyes quickly dance over your face. You swear they linger on your lips for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“Like people,” you repeat. “And I think it is good to think about that stuff from time to time but… it can get overwhelming. Sometimes it could even distract you from the things you’re enjoying now.”

Your eyes do the same motions, glancing all over his face, lingering on his lips, and then back to his eyes. This feels extremely reminiscent of the night you were sitting outside of the Forum, when you were practically nose to nose after you had taken a whiff of his hair. You had been telling yourself that the gravitational pull you felt that night was solely induced by the shrooms. However, you seem to be feeling it again now as your eyes trace over the plane of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the arch of his lip.

A slight crease between his eyebrows slightly contradicts the almost tender look in his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak.

Unfortunately he’s interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone on the wall behind him.

You flinch at the sudden noise and Harry huffs in annoyance before clearing his throat into his fist.

He walks over to the player to turn the music down before answering the phone with a simple, clipped “Jupiter House.”

He covers the receiver with his hand and mouths ‘sorry’ to you before holding up a finger and going into the back room, closing the door until it's just cracked behind him.

You release a heavy sigh and rub your temples.

After a short conversation, Harry comes back and hangs up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, untangling the cord from his fingers. “Are you happy with this, then?” He asks, pointing to the record player.

“Uh- yes. Yes. I am.”

You go through the transaction in silence, watching the way Harry slides your record into a brown paper bag and the way he makes your change. At this moment, you’re wishing Harry came with a cartoon thought bubble over his head so you could know what he’s thinking right now. What exactly did he mean when he said ‘like people’? What was he about to say before he was interrupted?

He carefully folds and creases the paper, but instead of handing it over, he pauses, hands poised on the top of the bag.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He opens the bag again and crouches down behind the counter.

“What--”

Before you can get your question out, his hand reaches into the glass case between you, hovering over the merchandise that you noticed when you first walked in. He picks out a button and a sticker. You hear them drop into the bag before he pops up from behind the counter.

“You didn’t have to--”

“I know.”

His smile and his voice are reassuring, absolving your confusion in a matter of seconds.

“Thanks for your help. It was nice running into you,” you smile, taking the bag and holding the record to your chest once again.

“Take care. I’ll see you around.” He smiles.

You back away from the counter and push open the door. The bell rings in your ears one last time.

*********************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 2, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> STAY TUNED FOR PART 3 <-

#shroomrry #my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #drugs tw #alcohol tw

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alinastracker · 3 years ago

Note

hi, bonnie, my beloved!!! I don’t know if you’re still taking those college prompts but if you are, it think 21 is pretty cute <3 it’s definitely got malina vibes

ASK AND U SHALL RECEIVE MY LOVE<3

prompt: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

it’s nice to have a friend

"And please everyone, actually read the assigned chapters for next week!" Professor Yerwei sighs as the class dismisses. "Miss Starkov can't continue to be the only one of you raising her hand."

Alina can't help her smug little smile as she packs up her things. At first, her classmates were quite happy to have someone else participating so they didn't have to. Their groans seem to indicate that won’t be working for them any longer. Pity.

Her smile fades, however, as she takes out her pepper spray, clutching it tight in her right hand. Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders, she files out with the rest of her classmates.

Alina loves her art history class. She's learned so much about Ravkan art throughout her years, which is fine, but this class actually focuses on the rest of the world, art from Kerch, Novyi Zem, and even Fjerda and Shu Han.

She just hates that the class is only offered at night.

It doesn't surprise her. The class itself isn't very large, mostly filled with students of mixed backgrounds like herself. But there's something cozy about the class. She feels safe there.

That is, until she steps outside and has to walk across campus to her dorm at nine in the evening. It's late September, which means the sky is nearly pitch black by the time class ends, and while the campus is fairly well lit up, there are a couple paths with burned out bulbs that need fixing, a few shadowy areas that give her cause to quicken her steps. Her roommate, Genya, has offered to make the trek just to walk with her, but she couldn't ask that of her friend. She would just have to grin and bear it.

Alina grips her pepper spray a little tighter and is about to step into the night when someone calls her name.

No, not someone. She knows the voice, even if he is new in her life. Malyen Oretsev. He sits in front of her and a little to the left, giving her the perfect angle to stare at the side of his beautiful face. Any time she's not answering questions, she's looking at Mal.

"Way to show us all up in class," he says, a teasing smile spread on his face. He moves with such ease, such surety, wearing an army style jacket that fits him in all the right places.

"Well, I can't help it you don't read the book," she teases back, momentarily forgetting her dreaded walk. She's made it three times now, but it has yet to get easier.

"Hey, who said I haven't read it? Maybe I'm just shy."

Alina laughs. "Good one, Oretsev."

He grins, and for a second, his eyes flash to where her hand rests at her side, locked around her pretty purple pepper spray. "Heading to your dorm?" When she nods, he says, "Mind if I walk with you?"

She's not sure if he's asking because he genuinely wants to walk with her or if he's just noticed how shaky she gets after class, holding her one line of defense close, but it makes her all warm inside regardless. "I'm not out of your way? I'm in Sankta Lizabeta Hall."

Mal shakes his head and drapes an arm over her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and oddly enough, it feels that way. "Not out of my way at all."

On the walk to her dorm, they talk about how refreshing it is to take a class taught by a professor from Shu Han, the plans they have for the upcoming weekend. Alina smiles the whole time, surprising herself with how at ease she feels. At some point, she stuffs her pepper spray in her coat pocket, forgetting all about it.

From that day on, Mal walks with her after class each Tuesday and Thursday night, with Alina almost always tucked under his arm. She tells herself she likes being close to him because the weather is getting colder and colder, but really, he just makes her feel safe and giddy and good.

One night in mid-October, they come out of class to a downpour. Groans pass between the two of them and the rest of their classmates as they make their way out, some of them going back inside to wait it out, others making a mad dash for their dorm or nearby car.

"Should we wait?" Alina asks.

Mal pulls out his phone and brings up a radar map. "Doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon."

They share a look, and then, almost in unison, pull up the hoods of their coats and dash into the night, the storm swallowing the sounds of their laughter.

"My brother is always forgetting his things when he visits my room," Tamar is saying as she leads them up the stairs in Sankt Juris Hall. She has yet to meet Tamar's twin, Tolya, but from the pictures she's been shown, he appears to be a giant with absolutely gorgeous hair.

Once they're in her brother's dorm, she adds gentle to the front of giant, as they walk in on him in the middle of crocheting, a podcast playing from his phone.

"Ah, my book," he says, pausing his podcast and setting his work aside.

"Yes, yes, your book. Now stop leaving your shit in my dorm."

Alina laughs, and it brings Tolya's attention to her. "You must be Alina." He stands to his full height, and she has to look up to meet his eye. Saints, he seems tall enough to make two of her.

"That's me," she says, and lets out a soft oof when Tolya wraps his large arms around her. Admittedly, his size compared to her own makes for a pretty great hug.

"Good to meet you. Tamar says you're a very talented artist. You'll have to show me some time."

She beams and nods to his abandoned yarn. "You seem to be something of an artist yourself."

Tamar groans. "Don't encourage him. I have so many scarves from over the years. Thank the Saints he's finally moved on to making things for his roommate."

"At least my roommate appreciates my work."

As the twins bicker, Alina walks further into the room. Tolya's side is neat and orderly, bed made, a basket beside it for all his crocheting, not a piece of trash in sight. The other side of the room . . . not so much.

She's seen worse, especially when it comes to boys, but the contrast is hilarious. His roommate's bed is a mess, pillows strewn and blankets hanging off like he left in a hurry. There's a few empty wrappers and water bottles on his desk, a pile of books stacked haphazardly. Then there's the heap of clothes shoved in a corner on his bed — clean or dirty yet to be determined. Her eyes linger on the pile, and she's not sure why until her eyes zero in on the hoodie on top. A very familiar hoodie.

Alina grabs it and turns to Tolya. "Do you live with Malyen Oretsev?"

Tolya pauses mid-bickering, glancing over at her. "You know Mal?"

She nods. "We have art history together."

"Oh! You must be the little friend — his words, not mine — he walks with after class. Lina. Huh, I should have put two and two together."

Alina scoffs. "Little friend?"

Tolya shrugs, and Tamar says, "I mean, he's not wrong."

She huffs, throwing the hoodie back onto Mal's bed, but says nothing, knowing she doesn't have an argument.

Just before they leave, Alina ducks her head back in and says, "Hey, Tolya? Don't tell Mal I was here."

If he finds her request odd, he doesn't show it, already going back to his crocheting. "Sure thing, little friend."

"So then, after doing all that catchup, they practically let Jrue steal the ball, and he runs down the court and tosses it just high enough for Giannis to dunk it in. It was incredible!"

"Uh huh."

Mal sighs. "I get it, you don't care about American basketball."

"Or American football, or our football—"

"Hey!"

"Okay, I care about your games."

"Thank you," he says, looking proud. "Anyway, you're saved."

They've reached Sankta Lizabeta Hall. Alina sighs, fiddling absently with a loose thread on her gloved hand. She’s wearing only one, because at some point today she had lost her pair, so Mal had offered up one of his — a gesture her heart has still not recovered from. She looks up at the building, then back to Mal. Admittedly, even when he rambles on about sports, she's always sad when their walk to the dorms after class comes to an end. Even though it's near freezing most nights now, their walk seems to take longer and longer. If Mal has noticed her slowing her steps lately, he hasn't said anything.

"Saved indeed," she says. But there's one more thing she has to do tonight before parting ways. "Though, I was thinking. You always walk me to my dorm, but I never do the same."

"Oh," Mal says and shrugs. "It's fine. It's not much further, no sense for you to backtrack."

Oh the irony. "I know, but still." She takes his hand, somehow warm despite the frosty air around them. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes this is the first time she's held his hand. "It's really only fair."

"Alina," Mal grumbles, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his brain, trying to figure a way out of this.

"What? It's not like you live much farther."

He groans. "It's late, and cold. You should get inside."

"What's the matter, Malyen?" She's grinning now. "You think I can't survive another minute or so out here? It's not like you reside in, oh I don't know, Sankt Juris Hall or something far like that."

She sees on his face the moment it clicks. Mal curses under his breath and asks, "How did you find out?"

"Tamar took me to meet her brother, and I just so happened to notice some very familiar clothes on a very messy bed. You're not quite as tidy as your roommate, Malyen."

"If you say my full name one more time, I'm going to bury myself into the ground."

Alina laughs and it’s just a little maniacal. "So what gives, Malyen? Juris Hall is like, a minute from class." Her own was around ten, longer if the sidewalks were icy or they took their time.

Mal's eyes turn downcast, and he kicks the pole of a streetlight. "I don't know. You just looked so uncomfortable leaving class each night, holding your pepper spray like your life depended on it, and I just — I didn't want you to be alone." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it probably sounds weird and creepy and everything you're trying to avoid."

Her heart is thumping so loud she's afraid he might hear it. But he's still not even looking at her. "Mal," she says softly, and finally he looks up. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He's unsure for a breath longer — the first time, she realizes, that she's seen him be anything but certain — before finally, he smiles. Shyly. "Really?"

She nods. "It’s ridiculously kind of you, especially since you barely knew me then. But I’m okay, really. I don’t want you to keep going so out of your way for me.”

Mal pauses, shuffling on his feet, and she can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “And if I said I wasn’t only doing it for you?” At her frown, he adds, “If I told you these walks are the best part of my week?”

She’s momentarily speechless as her brain scrambles for something to say, so she ends up blurting out, “Football practice is the best part of your week.”

His smile is sly as he says, “Football is the second best part of my week.”

“Oh, well.” Saints, she wants to jump his bones. She’s wanted to since the first time she laid eyes on him. But she hesitates still, needing to be sure before she can let herself leap. “Certainly there’s better places and times to go for a walk.”

Mal shakes his head, and there’s amusement in his tone. “Come on, Alina, are you really going to make me spell it out for you? It’s not the walk, it’s the company.”

“The company,” she echoes in a small, but pleased, voice. Her dark eyes are sparkling with something giddy — like she’s fifteen again, tripping over a smile from her crush.

He just shrugs as if to say, take it or leave it, and she knows her answer.

Alina grins and shrugs in return. “Well, then I guess you can keep accompanying me.”

He snorts. “Oh, you guess, huh?” Mal suddenly drops dramatically to one knee, and in that moment she can see his confidence has returned, the easy way he moves, like he’s singing his favorite song and knows every word, every beat. “How generous of you, oh honorable Alina Starkov, for granting me the privilege of walking on the same pavement your very feet grace!”

Alina’s laughing, she’s been laughing for the whole speech, but now she crosses the distance between them and tugs on his arm until he stands. “You’re the worst,” she says, and before she loses her nerve, she kisses him. She can tell he’s surprised, but he recovers fast. His arms wrap around her waist, tugging her closer. One of her hands is on his red scarf — one of Tolya’s making, she knows now — while the other dares to run through his hair, a fantasy she’s had all semester. Suddenly it’s not so cold out anymore.

They pull away breathless, sharing careful, sheepish smiles of two people exploring something new; something exciting, but fragile.

“I think we’ll have to find a new excuse to hang out once class ends in a couple weeks,” Alina says, looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks flushed.

“Agreed. Maybe something involving food, or drinks.” He pauses, then very delicately brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. It’s somehow more intimate than the actual kiss. “Maybe more of this.”

She bites down on the spot his thumb had just been. “Definitely more of this.”

Mal smiles, and this time, he’s the one to initiate the kiss, the one to tangle his fingers in her hair. They kiss until they’re dizzy and frozen — on the outside, anyway. On the inside, she’s all heat. They say their typical goodnights, but this time, they part with the promise of so much more than walking on the horizon.

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years ago

Text

fate matrix

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #05 (free) - fate ]

[ alphinaud/wol & cameos and mentions of some friend ocs, you’re gonna have to read to find out who :) ] ★ [ 5,241 words (oof) ] ★ [ fate matrix au ]

fate: be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way

in a world where the hands of destiny are ones and zeros, at the center of the matrix was a little goddess who would soon find out that she too, isn’t immune to the pull of fate

Day ???? | 07:07am | Day of Destined Meetings

An alarm rings, beeping in an increasingly loud volume as the monitors begin booting up. As light from the screens flood the room, the sound of cotton ruffling can be heard, followed by a soft little yawn.

The girl stirs, clutching at her duvet for warmth before her eyelids flutter open. Bright violet eyes stare up at the ceiling, where the patches of glow up star stickers have lost their radiance in the midst of the fluorescent bulb lighting up. Blinded momentarily, she grimaces, before rolling onto her side and sitting up.

“Good morning, alpha.” A melodic voice chirps out merrily from her parted lips, and she raises a hand to pet the head of the stuffed chocobo that she had been laying beside. “It’s time for work again, huh?”

Stretching her arms high above her head with a final, long yawn, the girl shuffles over to the minibar that was tucked under the table, pulling the door open before grabbing a small tub of yoghurt and peeling it open to peer inside curiously.

Oh, it’s strawberry today, how wonderful! Whoever or whatever magical force is behind stocking up the minibar seems to be in her favor this morning.

Grateful now for her breakfast, the girl slides over to the front of the bed, and places her hand on the mouse after taking a spoonful of the yoghurt into her mouth.

System booting... Please enter password. >illyaskawi03112 Log in successful. Fatematrix.exe starting. Welcome, Alice.

The monitors that surround her begin loading up window tabs after window tabs - and at the center on her main monitor, a sizeable grid of glowing icons pop up, along with a smaller, more discreet window showing a map tucked away at the corner of the screen.

Visual stimuli overload aside, the girl seemed to be completely unphased as she bites into yet another scoopful of yoghurt before setting the tub next to her white keyboard, as if this were a scene she’s had to see countless times now.

It’s a routine, a well rehearsed routine that the girl effortlessly goes through the motions of daily. The fate matrix is ever in need of use and she, the center of it all, was more than happy to take control.

That is, after all, the will of her late mother... the previous Alice and goddess of the fate matrix. It is simply her duty to carry on in her legacy. And as per her duty, she begins to spin the wheel of fate, clicking on the very first icon that boots up the fate matrix’s tool assistant. A bright blue pop up appears that the girl drags to the side, and text begins to appear.

Good morning, Alice. Today is a day of destined meetings. I would suggest working on getting soul mates together for the day.

Internally, Illya is delighted. Soul mates were one of her favorite types of work to focus on... and though they were rarely ever more urgent than other types of assignments like accident prevention, weather management or economic balance, it was one that often brought her a great amount of joy.

After all, what was sweeter than nudging two souls who were meant for each other closer? It was the very concept of soul mates, and the tales of the red thread of fate after all, that drew her mother into the concept of fate and caused her to develop the fate matrix.

A soft smile graces her features, and she moves her cursor to click on the second icon, which loads for a second before breaking apart into smaller, glowing dots that scatter across the map - with two dots that indicated soul mates being linked by a dotted line.

Time to get to work!

01:46pm

When Illya clicked on the glowing two red dots upon the map, she hadn’t expected to be shown live footage of the two targets in the very same room.

It’s not uncommon for soul mates to have already met each other, or even be familiar with one another already despite not having made their feelings for each other known yet... but they were cases that were, in Illya’s experience, a little more difficult to work on.

It was easy to nudge two strangers in the same direction or plant small, innocuous thoughts that would help draw two acquaintances into wanting to spend more time with their soul mate. It was far more difficult to convince stubborn people who have, despite many fateful circumstances, refused to confess their feelings to the object of their confession.

After all, the fate matrix was capable of many things - but controlling or taking over the will of people was not one of them.

Illya has convinced two stubborn souls to finally open up in the past though, she was certain she could do so again - she did so with the likes of the two childhood friends, Moth’ir and Thancred... a case which she would never in a million years soon forget... or the infuriatingly obstinate refusal of a pink haired miqo’te girl to confess to her close friend and personal trainer, Haurchefant Greystone... who had been more than obvious with his flirtations for years.

Alice, you have yet to eat your lunch. A quick break is highly suggested.

The tool assistant sends a reminder through a text in it’s window, which Illya is swift to ignore. She can eat once she’s done with this case.

She watched through the monitor as the pair sat on the couch, a girl with straight cut bangs and piercing red eyes lounging lazily with her back propped against the arm rest and her legs laid over her taller, lankier male friend, who seemed to be frustrated at the girl’s refusal to pay him any attention.

“Why invite me over if you’re just going to play your game?”

“Hmph! Says the guy who invited me over to his place only to kick me out halfway through because some of his friends were going to pay him a surprise visit!”

The man lets out a hefty sigh.

“I already apologized for that. And that was over a week ago. Are you seriously still-”

“Yes, yes I am!” Without even looking up from her smartphone, the girl lets out a dramatic huff while admonishing her friend. “I don’t get why you’re so adamant about me not meeting your friends. Why, are you scared they’ll misunderstand and think I’m your girlfriend?”

“That’s- That’s not-”

From the heartrate monitor, Illya can tell that was only part of the reason for his behavior. The true reason, and an explanation that the girl understood full well why he would refuse to tell his friend was written in text in a separate window next to his heartrate monitor.

The girl, Totomi Tomi, or better known by her stage name as Mint, was something of a minor celebrity on the internet. Known for her jovial personality and the many covers of vocaloid songs she posted on her well known eorzeatube page, it wouldn’t be a stretch to call her an idol - even if she wasn’t officially acknowledged or employed as one by some idol management company. Her friend, Estinien, and the object of her very strong feelings towards, had friends who were apparently fans of hers.

It was for that very reason that, for her protection and to spare her the oogling of strangers, that he’d kept his friendship with the young idol a secret from others.

In his eyes, perhaps dating her would be the quickest way to convince his friends to back off... but that would only come after they’d confessed their feelings - which they haven’t.

“That’s not important.” Estinien finally retorts after stumbling after his words for a moment, and Illya has to resist the urge to slam her head against the keyboard.

“Ohhhh... Kay.” Mint rolls her eyes, Illya mirrors the action.

What Illya doesn’t anticipate however, is Estinien’s next words, for as bold and uncharacteristic for an emotionally closed off man such as him.

“Why? Are you disappointed? You almost sound like you want to be known as my girlfriend.”

Mint chokes on her spit, sputtering and gurgling out incomprehensible words until she recovers - but only barely... and now with a dark red blush plastered over her freckled cheeks.

“I-In your dreams, maybe!” Her blatant lie is apparent to all but... the ones who are present in the room. “Besides, I already have someone I like!”

“Oh?” Illya can hear the sheer contempt from her headphones, and she grimaces at the man’s deep frown. “Do tell, who is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, dunderhead!”

“Tell me. I’m curious.”

“Nope nope nope nope nope noppetty nope! Why’d you think I would ever tell you, huh??”

Mint sticks her tongue out at the man, who scowls deeper and nudges the woman’s legs off of his lap.

“Fine. How about a bet then.”

“What bet?”

The man points to the phone she has in her hands.

“Since you’re so fond of your gacha games, and you’re always bragging about how good your luck is, why don’t we make a bet using your game?”

Snatching the phone out of Mint’s hand despite her protests, Estinien taps on the settings button before clicking on the gacha button, the screen switching to the current limited rate up banner of a popular event character.

“If you get a character of the highest rarity within 50 draws, you have to tell me who your crush is.”

“W-why would I even agree to that?? I’ve been saving my primos for Xi-Ao you know?!”

“I’ll pay for your pulls. It’s a win-win for you that way, no? You get free pulls from the game, I get to know who your crush is if you get a shiny new character.”

Mint pulls back, hesitant and suspicion clear in her eyes, but still enough to hint at consideration.

“And what’s in it for me? What if I do pull a 5 star character?”

After much consideration, Estinien responds once more.

“I’ll let you whale for whatever character you want next on my credit card. And I’ll cosplay with you at the next convention.”

At the condition of his loss set, Mint’s face lights up with pure elation, as she snatches her phone back from her friend with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Deal! You’re so going to lose, long bean! My luck in Genshin Impact’s second to none! I can’t wait to make you cosplay sailor moon!!”

An equally devious smile spreads across the face of Alice, whose hands are swift to pull up another window tab reserved specifically for video game and gambling luck.

She has always admittedly been favorable and gracious in giving out good draws to people who deserve it - the program she has running in the background is testament to that... And she has no doubt in her mind that the fate matrix has been generous in it’s givings to Mint, if her boastings are anything to go by.

Mint must thusly, be a good person.... and she deserves a fate more fulfilling than virtual characters on a screen.

The girl must truly feel confident in herself, as she hits the draw x10 button without a single hesitation.

Illya begins typing the code into the new window, and sympathy wells in her heart as she hears Mint huff in minor disappointment.

“Only one 4 star? Eh, it’s just a fluke, I have 40 more pulls and I’m close to soft pity too!”

“Good luck.” Estinien chuckles mockingly, and Mint lets out a growl before pressing on the draw x10 button again.

Nothing. The third ten pull is no better - with nothing but a single 4 star weapon to show for her efforts. Mint is evidently getting more nervous as her finger shakes, pressing down on the button that will decide her fate for the fourth time.

She was so certain she’d get a 5 star by now - she normally gets what she wants within the first thirsty pulls, and it’s a normal occurrence to even pull multiple 5 stars within the same roll... So... why?

Her 40th pull ends with two 4 star characters, a sight better than the ones before... a sign of Illya’s pity on her... but still not a condition for her win.

“Oh, someone’s getting nervous.” Estinien smirks, “You’re on your last pull away from telling me who you have a crush on.”

“H-hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Mint exclaims, jabbing a finger at him. “The chances of getting a 5 star increases with each pull, so i’m almost a hundred percent certain I’ll get one this time!”

Mint’s heartrate monitor is going off the charts, and Illya has to intervene by lowering her vitals enough so she wouldn’t pass out from sheer nervousness. It does little to hide it from Estinien, however, who could only relish every second of Mint’s rapidly darkening blush as she finally taps on the draw x10 button one final time.

The shooting star across the screen flickers, before bursting into a shade of pink that has Mint leaning back with mouth agape, a mixture of sheer shock and terror on her expression.

Hopelessness is all she feels as she taps, taps and taps, and the roll summary page shows naught but a single Benny - the unluckiest character in the game, grinning widely at her.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I won.” Estinien sounds way too casual and smug, unaware of the monumentally immense amount of bad fortune that had just befallen his friends. “As per our deal, you’re going to have to tell me who your crush is.”

Illya feels sorry for her meddling, and she makes a mental note to herself to bless Mint’s future rolls with as many of the highest rarity characters she could possibly afford to give without breaking the laws of probability too much... but when Mint finally breaks out of her stutter and sets her phone down on her lap, hands grasping so tightly at the hem of her skirt that her knuckles turned white, the girl knew that she’d dealt the woman a hand far kinder than if she had not.

“I-It’s...... It’s you, okay?”

07:32pm

Alice it is time for dinner. The curry will get cold if you leave it out for too long.

Illya’s tendency to ignore the tool assistant in regards to her own wellbeing was concerning, but not an anomaly. In fact, it was far more rare for the text in the pop up to be spared more than a single second’s glance from her.

Whether it was reminders for her to eat, for her to sleep early, to hydrate or to stretch after hours hunched over her keyboard in front of glaringly bright monitors for a good whole of her day, the tool assistant’s well meaning messages would always go ignored.

It’s a natural part of it’s program, Illya tells herself, as she filters through lists of finished cases before moving on to pending ones. Much like the fate matrix, that ran on a code that was, in admittance, far more complex than even she could fully comprehend... the tool assistant ran on code. It was an artificial intelligence her mother had created during her last few months of life, something that, according to the note left in the hard drive of the fate matrix, would help Illya better slip into her role as adjudicator of fate.

She’d remembered when she first awoke in this room and on the bed, not having any recollection of how she’d even arrived in the first place. The momentary panic and confusion had been replaced with a sense of obligation... of duty and honor when she booted up the computer for the first time to be greeted with the words from the tool assistant - as well as a lengthy message from her late mother.

We who do not belong to the realm of mortals... we who possess the blood of fate. We bear the burden of watching over the world and making sure that it is a safer, happier, better place for everyone. Only you alone can take possession of the fate matrix in my stead, and I pray you’ll forgive me for not being able to say goodbye to you in person.

Family meant the world to Illya, it has ever been that way. She spent a good amount of her childhood in the company of her parents, with little understanding of the world beneath. She had no concept of the idea of fate, of how destiny was dealt... only that her mother had a significant role to play, and that her time with her family was soon to be cut short by a crippling, unkind illness that not even the fate matrix could undo.

Illya’s never tried stepping out of her room before. She has always assumed that it exists in some kind of void or overworld that overlooked the mortal realm. It mattered not, really... The only thing important was that mother had left this place behind, and wanted her only daughter to inherit her role as Alice.

It was with that responsibility in mind that drove Illya to stay seated in front of the monitors for as long as she has.

Time is no longer being a concept, the rising and falling of the sun no longer visible to her eyes aside from a arbitrary number on the clock that served more as a timer for how long she has left to work until exhaustion would consume her.

Do you not wonder what it’s like to have friends, Alice?

Recently, however the tool assistant has been sending her more and more pointless questions... questions that went far beyond the daily self-maintenance reminders that she could understand her mother programming in for her wellbeing, questions aimed to be poignant and was targeted to making her feel more isolated and alone than it did help. It was bordering on annoyance.

You could leave this room any time you wanted.

And why would she do that? She murmured to herself as she typed in code to program a heavy storm, forcing a raven haired lalafellin man to offer his umbrella to his soul mate who had been stranded under a lone busstop - a pink haired woman with olive green eyes who seemed utterly smitten with him upon first sight.

Her purpose was here, to take control of the fate matrix, to grant happy memories, to save lives, to fulfill wishes and dreams. There can be no greater and heavier responsibility to bear in the world.

Truthfully, the reason why Illya stayed at first had solely because of her mother’s wishes... But now, it was more than that.

Because the idea of separating herself from the fate matrix... and not being able to grant the kindness of fate that so many people in the world deserved... it was a pain that was worth her own sense of self.

Are you not lonely? Do you not want someone to love you?

Why did it matter if she was lonely? The envy and curiosity she feels upon watching a group of friends hanging out together is nothing in comparison to the pain mortals felt from a love unrequited, or a loved one losing their life.

She taps furiously on a historian with bright red hair and eyes, forcing him to get a wardrobe malfunction that would push him to visit a tailor where an impish lalafellin fashion designer with snow white freckles awaited him with choice words of ridicule. She tips over a telephone pole that causes two surf shop co-owners who were on a road trip to park by the roadside so that they may witness a falling star, wishes made leading to their confession. She painstakingly guides a woman with silver hair and golden yellow eyes towards a drycleaner, where she initiates easy banter with a man who she later finds out was her old schoolmate.

Juno and Ysayle, Bianca and Varis, Niqesse and Zenos, Nowi and June. She remembers the soul mates she pushes together by name, and treasures the happiness they are sure to feel from their memories as if they were her own.

Detached from their world she may be, it is through the fate matrix that she can experience a sliver of their joy and love... even if it is for a fleeting moment before she must move on to the next.

11:17pm

One more assignment, she tells herself, eyes bloodshot and fingers sore from typing. One more case and she’ll eat before going to bed. She has done much for the day as it is... but she cannot rest until she’s closed one particular case that has her vexed for the entire day.

A pair of glowing purple dots that has been plastered on the map since morning has her thoroughly vexed... because for some reason or another, she cannot seem to gather information on one half of the pair.

She’s able to view the other half just fine - a dashing young man who seemed to be a senior in university despite his age, having skipped two grades due to his academic prowess. He is incredibly gifted, possessing not only of superior intellect but also an artistic hand and charismatic demeanor that makes him quite popular at his school.

But no matter how much she clicked on the other purple dot, or made futile attempts to manually search for data on his other half, nothing would show up. No windows, no tabs... What was even more perplexing was that the dot hadn’t moved on the map at all.

Illya had paid especially close attention to the purple dots ever since she’d found this anomaly in the fate matrix... she was certain she would have noted movement if there had been any at all.

But whereas the icon of the boy had understandably been moving throughout the city of Sharlayan, the icon of his mysterious other half hadn’t, laying stagnant on a singular point of the map in the middle of what appeared to be an old apartment complex.

It was as if his soul mate just... didn’t exist at all.

The boy didn’t have any romantic feelings for anyone, nor did it seem like there was anyone at his school that would have an attachment to him that extended beyond admiration or a short-term attraction, which she’s long learned to tell apart from genuine love. If the tool assistant had a text saying that her target simply did not have a soul mate at all, she’d have been inclined to believe it.

But the other purple dot that connected to his does not lie. If he didn’t have a soul mate, his icon wouldn’t be connected to the other. Her tool assistant wouldn’t have told her, very deliberately she may add, that he did in fact have a soul mate and that it was imperative for her to unite them.

But how was she to make two people meet when she could not even tell who the other was? It was the first time Illya’s wondered if there was even any point to her efforts.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, then. It may be unnatural for a piece of note to fall from the sky, but it was perhaps her final chance to get the boy to meet his soul mate before the opportunity would be lost forever.

Assignments from her pending window are known to disappear all of a sudden, and soul mates who were attached and at their prime for a fated meeting for the moment often times disappear from the map entirely... a tragedy as a result to the slipping of time that the fate matrix cannot rectify... and she’d be damned if she let it happen to this case just because of a simple glitch.

The boy, Alphinaud Leveilleur, star student of the nation’s most prestigious academy, had been walking home from his late night seminars. His position was unnervingly close to where his soul mate is, and since she could not think of any way she could naturally nudge him in the direction of the apartment complex, she writes a note posing as his soul mate and drops it from the sky.

“W-what in the twelve?”

The boy catches it in mid-air, looking at the haphazardly scribbled words on the paper.

PLEASE HELP ME. I’M BEING HELD AGAINST MY WILL. I’M BEING TRAPPED AT _______________

She made the handwriting disorderly intentionally... just to sell the idea of a person being trapped better, of course. She’d even slathered on a small smudge of blood on the corner of the note to make it more convincing... and it seemed to have done the trick as the boy widens his navy blue eyes in alarm, head turned up in the direction of the apartment complex he stood next to.

Illya can tell he has his doubts, and she doesn’t blame him... It’s suspicious enough that the call for help would just so conveniently fall towards him as he was walking past... but he’s never known any criminal activity to have taken place in that apartment complex - Sharlayan is relatively safe compared to it’s neighbor, Mor Dhona.

A few simple thoughts however, might just do the trick into getting him to spring into action.

Injecting into his mind, Illya types out frantically into the text box for thought processing.

What if this is real? What if there really is someone in need of rescuing and I just walked by without helping them? What if they appeared on the news tomorrow? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. What if... what if this note really is fate?

She’s preying on his upright and morally upstanding character, she knows that... and it never feels good to take advantage of a objectively good person’s kindness... But her determination to grant him lifelong happiness wins as she watches through the live feed the as the boy clutches onto the note close to his chest and begins to run into the carpark of the apartment complex before heading inside.

Zooming into the map, she sees that her target is taking the lift up to the highest floor, his heartrate skyrocketing at an alarming pace as she panics for a moment and has to manually adjust it back down. He’s nervous... and she must admit that she is too.

When he leaves the lift, his footsteps are unsteady and hesitant... But a few more encouraging thoughts was enough to get him to push forward until he’s standing in front of a door - the only door on the last floor of the complex, as it would happen.

Illya tries to look into the room, but the window that pops up is but a single black screen that has her sighing. No matter. The fact that there even was a window in the first place is progress.

She’s gotten this far into leading him here... all he has to do is open the door where his other half is sure to be on the other side.

The boy tries to twist open the door knob, the metal rattlingly noisily in Illya’s headphones. But it doesn’t budge or give way.

Figures that it’d be locked. How is she supposed to lead him inside? She can’t ring the doorbell because, for as odd as it is, there is none... and she cannot pull up any information on his soul mate, let alone inject into thoughts into their head to open the door. It’s far too suspicious to drop the key to the door right in front of him.

With each second that passes, it seemed like the boy was letting his doubts begin to sway his decision to stay more and more... and Illya’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach when she sees the boy begin to step away from the door and reaching into his bag for his phone, a thought bubble popping up above him.

I should call the police, instead...

“No! You mustn’t!” Illya yells out by instinct.

“Huh???” the boy’s eyes widen once more, and to Illya’s utter confusion, he bolts forward and is now banging his fist against the door. “Hello?! Are you okay?! If you’re in there and you need help, please say something again!”

He must’ve heard a voice.... Illya mused, eyes glistening with intrigue... her voice. Did her mic turn on by accident? Or perhaps she’d projected her voice onto the door out of instinct. She wouldn’t be surprised if she did... but the most important thing is that it worked, and it got the boy to stay.

“Y-yes! I’m... I’m in here!” Illya responds, intentionally letting out sobs into her microphone this time, “p-please help me... I-I’m really hurt and I don’t know when they’ll get back!”

Alphinaud’s heartrate is beating faster than it’s ever had before... and Illya makes no attempts to lower it as she watches the boy grit his teeth and set his bookbag down.

“A-alright! Stand back! I’ll try to knock the door down!”

Good thinking, Illya hums to herself in silence. The door seems old and rickety on its own... unless his soul mate has very deliberately barricaded the inside, there shouldn’t be any reason why he’d not be able to knock it down.

The boy begins to slam his torso into the door, pulling himself back before once more rushing into the door, and the sound of banging fills Illya’s headphones. It’s oddly loud and deafening... but she makes no attempts to lower her volume as she grips the edge of her keyboard in anticipation.

“Don’t worry miss! Just a bit more! I’ll get you out, I promise!”

His sincerity touches her... and though it is wholly unnecessary, Illya is moved to speak into the mic once more... and her words causes a surge of renewed energy to flow through him.

“Yes! I believe in you! I’m waiting!”

Illya has never known what the outside of her room looked like... nor the time or space that occupied it. It was never necessary, she’d convinced herself... She was simply content with watching the outside world through the lens of the fate matrix while playing the ultimate puppet master.

She has never smelled the outside air, never seen the light of the sun, never once touched the hands of another... not since she arrived here.

When the door to her room clattered noisily onto the ground, so loudly that she could not chalk it up to being a result of the projection in her headphone, the girl spun around... and stared with wide, bewildered and confused eyes at the boy in front of her - clear without the pixels of the screen obscuring him... clear and oh so very real.

Beads of sweat trickling down his brows from exertion... his usually neat fitting uniform disheveled from strain...

And in his clear blue eyes was the reflection of herself, staring back at her as if they were a window to her future.

“Y-you.... you are....?”

The tool assistant of the fate matrix sends another text, which goes unread and ignored by Alice once again.

You watch over the fate of others. But even you aren’t immune to the hands of fate.

#ffxiv #final fantasxy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #lots of cameos and mentions of friends but i'm not gonna list em all out here kek #holy fuck this turned out longer than i expected #and i already had to cut down a lot of this fic!!!#Like... i planned to expand each friend ship into their own dedicated segment but #it got too detailed and bleh

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

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Okayyyy chappy seven 🤩 Here we goooo 🥳

Lord, Katniss always had nightmares 😭 even before the games, between her father’s death, her mother’s abandonment and the other traumatizing things she saw in her life, my girl never slept peacefully a day in her life 🥺.

She even indicates that she sometimes has nightmares about past hunger games 😭😭😭. Someone protect my smol child. Please. Someone.... Someone? Anyone? No? Okay 🥺

“I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light.” This is such a powerful image and it really does show that Katniss has literally envisioned all the gory details of her father’s death for the last four years. This is so sad 😞

Also though. Katniss really doesn’t talk much about her father’s death after the first book and definitely doesn’t describe nightmares about it. So .... like basically, the games traumatized her so badly that, her father failing to escape the mines as the collapsed in on him, crushing him into the pits of despair, the possibility of rescuing his corpse deemed unimaginable, pales in comparison? Yes I just tried and failed to phrase that long run on sentence the way Katniss phrases her nightmares about her dad dying, yes that was over the top but you know what? So. Is. Katniss.

“Dawn is breaking through the windows” Twilight reference 😬😬😬. I couldn’t stop myself, y’all. Forgive for please.

“The Capitol has a misty, haunted air.” Katniss, you’re from the butthole of Kentucky, the air you’re used to is probably humid as all get out 😓😓💦😅😅

“I must have bitten into the side of my cheek in the night. My tongue probes the ragged flesh and I taste blood.” 😒😒😒😒 this feeling ..... is .... v v v .... distinct .... and .... familiar 😕🙁☹️

“I end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assault me.” Why is this so funny omg 😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂😂😅😅😅😅😅 Katniss is just like pressing buttons like, “Ah! Too cold! 🥶 Ah! Too hot! 🥵 Ah!!!!!” All while jumping like a .... cat 🐱🥁

Lemon foam? 🍋 Whatever. I guess there’s weirder flavors of soap we have today but like where’s the Philosophy flavors that give recipes on the bottles??? Surely they’d survive an apocalypse??? Everyone uses those???

I’m so glad Katniss didn’t forget to moisturize, even as she prepares for a death match 😅😅😅😅 even if it’s just as simple as pressing a single button, why is she even taking the time to press it?

I know, I know. She just wants to make sure her skin is so smooth for the arena that the knives and arrows just slide right off 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“This is the first time since the morning of the reaping that I resemble myself.” Lolololol which means Mr. Romantic is gonna be even more turned on by the sight of ya, since he’s crushed on you looking like this for the last decade of his life 🥳😎🤗💁🏼‍♀️. Peeta ain’t even here yet and I’m already making the shipper comments Samantha calm down 🙄😶😑🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐

Seriously there where is Peeta? Did he also have to figure out the temperature controls in the shower? Did he also moisturize? I miss him I wanna know about his morning too 😔. Katty, is it too much to ask for you to go take a lil ... sneak peek into his room for me? 😏😏😏

Twenty dishes seems like a lot for like four people eating? Eh, maybe six people, if we count the stylists who magically pick and choose when they’re coming to a meal... Hmm, I’ll calculate just so no one else has to. 🤓😬🤗 No one else cares, Samantha. 🤐🥱😴😶 Twenty dishes amounts out to about five plates without the stylists and three and a half-ish with so.... idk it’s not that much food I guess but it seems like a lot for one meal, esp if people in the Capitol intend to keep their trim figures. This is why that one prep team girl is chubby. 🤐🤐🤐

Awww Katniss copying Peeta’s weird lil eating quirks 🤗😎🥳. She’s already taking interest in him, she just don’t realize it yet 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ shipper comment alert 🚨🚨

But also has anyone actually tried dipping bread on hot chocolate and was it good or does it taste as repulsive as it sounds to me? I hate it when my food even so much as dares to touch though 🤢😡😤😓

Oooo I always forget Prim has to be utilizing her goat, milking the thing every day until it’s dry I’m not a farmer idk how milking animals works ... so she contributes more than I give her credit I suppose.... I’m making an effort for you, Primmers. You seem useless and immature but I’m trying. 😪😶 Taylor Swift voice 🎶 *this is me trying* 🎶

Oh wow it was only two mornings ago? Man. The first book is slow moving. 😅😭 six chapters in and we’ve gotten through one point five days 🤣

“It makes me irritated that Peeta is wearing exactly the same outfit I am.” “Listen, Peeta, one of us has to change, this is getting embarrassing, you have to stop borrowing my clothes!”

“This twins act is going to blow up in out faces once the Games begin.” Ahhaahahahaha blow up 💥 💣 🔥. Get it, get it. 🥁 Because she represents fire. And she also blows things up in Every. Single. Book.

But seriously, did Cinna and Portia and Haymitch all plan on presenting Katniss and Peeta are like, tight friends or whatever, and then Peeta is like “oh b-tee-dubs, I have a massive crush on K-dog” and they just decided it perfectly fit into their plans?

I’m so jealous that their breakfast has bread baskets 😩😩😩 I know they’re headed to the slaughter but still. Bread.

if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." "Why would you coach us separately?" In case one of you ... not naming names .... Peeta .... wants to reveal your lifelong crush on live television 😎😎😎

Also Haymitch is like “make an important decision but take zero time to consider it, I’m tired and hungover, kids, idc for your drama 😒”

Which as an auntie to a wonderful little two year old ... is v relatable 😅🥲🙃🤭

“And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." I wanna make a dirty joke here so badly but the lord himself is saying no.

“Town families usually eat expensive butcher meat. Beef and chicken and horse.” Ohhh this is interesting. Katniss believing Peeta and the other merchants live high on the hog while Peeta is later is like “I eat expired bread for every meal, Katniss” I mean, better than starving like her, but also not how she’s painting the picture in her mind. 😶😭

Also Katniss never mentions horses in Twelve, where’s the butcher getting horses from to slaughter and sell? That’s why Katniss never sees them, Samantha, duh 🙄

“I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread.” "Sorry, I don't.” This was such a quick and matter of fact brush off, poor Peeta 😭😭😭 my baby I’m still rooting for you don’t worry you got this

Also. Lowkey, highkey, that tiny exchange triggered me. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭. Those awkward moments where people brush me off or glance over me live in my head. Rent free. For life.

I wonder sometimes often times if Katniss’ father and Gale’s father knew each other? Both hunted and worked in the mines. Just a random sidebar 😅🤭🤐🙃

“She’s excellent” He’s so proud of his wife 🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

So uh.... is it safe to say Mr. Mellark is an Everlark fan? If he likes and admires Katniss and Peeta and him apparently have some kind of close-ish bond (okay, maybe not but maybe) then perhaps he is carrying the shipper banner back in Twelve for them 🥳🥳😎😎

Katniss, you dingaling, of course he noticed you 🙄🙄🙄

Peeta compliments her and her instant reaction is “what are you doing, weirdo?” 😅😭

“Don’t underrate yourself” Peeta, love of my life, take your own advise. Stupid. 😪😪😪

“I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour” Katniss in the market, staring across the way at Peeta, 👁👄👁, watching him lift flour over his shoulder.

“He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." This is criminally undiscussed. Peeta being a wrestler alone is undiscussed but also.... did you go to his matches, Katniss? Miss Anti-Social, Hunting-First-Everything-Else-Later? 😏😏😏 If this ain’t proof of her lil crush idk what is

“All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance.” “You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows.” Does no one else realize that Katniss and Peeta literally took the other’s advise for the first part of the games? How did Peeta get in with the Careers? The way she just said. Where is Katniss when Peeta and the Careers discover her? High up in a tree. Okay, this maybe didn’t compute right but I had a thought here so I said it

Peeta’s mother is just a monster. Who says that crap? 😔😔😔 don’t worry, baby, I’m rooting for you

“She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is” Yeah, she is, no thanks to you, Mrs. Mellark 😤. Stingy ho.

Peeta’s got pain in his eyes 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Awww, Katniss accrediting her survival to Peeta’s help 😭😭😭😭. This is so pure. Also kiss now, you little freaks.

“She has no idea. The effect she can have.” This is such an iconic line... but the can has always had me laughing. She can have an effect, if she really wants to. Or not, depending on the day.

Katniss is so stupid, how did she construe that as an insult??? 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ y’all ever just wanna smack her into a wall?

“In public, I want you by each other's side every minute” If Peeta didn’t have a long life crush, what was the ultimate plan with all this friendship act they’re being forced into? 🤔🤔🤔

Even Peeta’s trying to object to it 😭😭😭😭

“You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other.” You will fall in love. 🤩🥳😎

“I bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure Peeta can hear the door slam.” Okay, now imagine how much she’s hurting his feelings right now 😖😣 what a little brat

“But that didn't mean I wanted to do everything with Peeta. Who, by the way, clearly doesn't want to be partnering up with me, either.” Lolololololololol this is so funny in hindsight 🤣🤣🤣. Also if you showed a little enthusiasm, Peeta would probably be happy to partner with you.

“But a tiny part of me wonders if this was a compliment. That he meant I was appealing in some way.” No, really, Katniss? A compliment? Who’d give you one of those? 🙄🙄🙄

“It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting.” A normal person at this point would put together a crush 😅

“And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. [...] I have kept track of the boy with the bread.” Anddd a normal person would figure out their own crush at this point 😅😅.

“I do a quick assessment. Peeta and I are the only two dressed alike.” We stan a matching couple in this house 😎😏

“Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than I am” That means 18 out of 24 tributes tower over my girl here. Smol Katniss. The movies did such erasure on this front I’m still bitter 🤐😒😤😩

“I may be smaller naturally, but overall my family's resourcefulness has given me an edge in that area.” Just a tiny muscular thing standing next to a bunch of tall, lanky kids. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Awww “Each [Career tribute] must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me.” I mean ... let’s calculate. A muscular girl would probably weigh like 150 pounds... so basically Katniss is at most, 100 pounds. Tiny Katty.

“I'm thinking that it's lucky I'm a fast runner when Peeta nudges my arm and I jump.” This is a random, cute interaction 😍😍😍. Shipper blinders are on and tight.

“Suppose we tie some knots.” “Right you are.” I legitimately just scratched my face, who says right you are? An 87 year old man, that’s who 😅😅😅. Not turning your girl on very well, Peeta baby.

Although it does sound a bit like a backwoods southern thing soooo.... hillbilly Everlark nation rise. 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“We concentrate on this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it.” Awww, so Peeta knows how to tie a snare? He’s not as clueless as half the fandom acts.

How exactly is frosting cakes equating to amazing camouflager in a death match? Books crack me up with these connections. “I’m an amazing artist because I write birthday cards!”

Lolololol Prim admiring her future brother-in-law’s handiwork 🥰🥰🥰🥰 too bad she dies before they can get together for real for real.

“Somehow the whole thing - his skill, those inaccessible cakes, the praise of the camouflage expert - annoys me.” Dude, you get praised by everyone and their brother while Peeta gets overlooked, give him a moment to shine. 😑🙄 jealous wife much?

Also she’s already picking up on Peeta’s eye for beauty 😅😅😅

“It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.” "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-“ "Say we move on.” She’s such a little snot. 😒😒😒

But also I love that already in this point of their relationship, Peeta is noticing when she’s being a brat 😭😂😅. “Don’t be so superior.”

“Despite Haymitch's order to appear mediocre, Peeta excels in hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible plants test without blinking an eye.” Lolololol their mentor’s advise went into one ear and right out the other 😂😅🤣.

But also why did the movie make a point in adding an extra scene of Peeta looking weak and the Careers staring at him? That literally took up time and served no purpose at all. 😤😤😤 I’m coming for you, Gary Ross

Awww, everyone but the careers eat alone. But Katniss and Peeta eat together 🥺🥺🥺. It’s like a forced first date 🥳🥳🥳

I like how Katniss says they include bread from every district but she then proceeds to only mention the two districts that later have relevant tributes. 😅😅😅

Lolololol their fake friendship “laugh ... now! Okay, I’ll smile, try to say something interesting”

“Ever since I slammed my door, there's been a chill in the air between us.” Well yeah, you probably hurt his feelings 🥺🥺🥺

Umm, Katniss just casually drops that she was chased by a bear.... how did homegirl live? 😬😳

Peeta knowing Rue’s name and being the one to take notice of her first 🥺🥺🥺. If the games had come down to Katniss, Peeta and Rue, y’all know Everlark would have swallowed the berries and gotten Rue home. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

“Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.” "All right, Katniss.” He made a single comment to you, ding dong. He didn’t ask for a goodnight kiss 🙄🙄🙄.

Also anyone ever think of how lonely Peeta’s life must be? He’s not close to his family that we can see, Delly’s his only real friend, after he wins he lives in that huge house all alone... I feel sad now. I did this to myself. 😬😭🥺

Katniss’ “Oh! The weapons!” When she sees the bows and arrows is so cute 🥰🥰🥰

Katniss has such a rage built up inside of her. Let it out, girlfriend

See, I’d have done this too but in my rage, I’d probably have shot a real person and not the pig ... goodbye, Plutarch 👋🏻

Andddd I think that’s all for this chapter! Sorry my comments weren’t as interesting as usual 😬.

#thgagain

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buntycake · 4 years ago

Text

The Brothers and Wedding Day (Suit-Wearing MC)

Pride:

Diavolo having asked Lucifer to take care of some tasks before school, he met you at the entrance of RAD. On the steps of the school, illuminated by Devildom’s moon, Lucifer stood dressed up in a black suit and red vest that were tailored to perfection. He made you hope that you looked even a fraction as stunning.

The white and black embroidered suit that the two of you had picked out together had looked amazing – at least it had on the hanger. You owed it to Asmo for looking as good as you did. This morning he made it his goal to help you with your hair, makeup, and accessories this morning. Even if he was a few ideas away from going overboard, you were thankful.

So when his gaze met yours, eyes widening in surprise and a bright smile cracking over his face, your heart fluttered with happiness. He offered his arm as you reached the top of the steps and looked over your costume appreciatively. “Stunning, as always,” he’d complimented.

As you walked arm in arm through RAD, stares from the student body were abundant. Even Diavolo did a double-take when he met up with you two. He joked that you should hold a ceremony. After all, it would be a waste to look so good only for a school event.

Greed:

Mammon had insisted on getting dressed together and ended up worming his way into your room. He claimed that he couldn’t risk someone seeing you in your outfit before him. You were his human and he had to be first in everything. So, he stayed, and you dressed in the bathroom.

The outfit you picked out was a dress shirt, fitted pants, and a simple tie. There was gold detailing on the shirt that made you shimmer under the light. You had thought that with all the gold accessories added on you would look garish, but looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked lavash. Like you bathed in money for fun.

Mammon was pacing nervously around the room when you exited the bathroom. He seemed to freeze and buffer when he caught sight of you. You couldn’t help but chuckle and took the chance to take in his appearance, too.

He looked roguish in a suit. Mostly because he didn’t button up his shirt, tighten his tie, or fix his hair. Of course, his black suit was accented with gold – you were his human, so you had to match. Honestly, between the two of you, you kind of looked like you were attending a mafia wedding.

He blinked furiously, finally breaking out of his daze. With surprising speed, he stepped forward and grabbed your hands, he got down on one knee. “Marry me.” You laughed out of surprise. Mammon insisted that he was serious and that he’d buy you a ring later.

Envy:

You’d never seen Levi sew until the first day of Spirit Week. That morning, you had tried putting on the traditional black kimono and hakama he’d made for you, but with all the fabric you ended up tripping over yourself and tearing one of the layers while trying to put it on.

When you brought the torn kimono to his door, you expected him to be mad. Instead he just took it from your arms and shuffled you into his room. He pulled out a sewing machine from god knows where and within 10-15 minutes he had gotten it patched up.

You could barely hear him offering to help you put on the kimono as he murmured. Even so, you accepted the offer. As embarrassing as it was to be undressed in front of him, you had a feeling that Levi was even more embarrassed, if his flushed face was any indication. But he diligently helped you put on each layer of the outfit. His hands steady the entire time.

When he had finished, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. Then he excused himself and went to put on his own outfit. He exited his bathroom with a traditional black kimono and hakama – his sigil of envy embroidered on each shoulder. His blush returned when you told him he was handsome. From the corner of his room he produced a parasol and surprisingly bold this morning, he took one of your hands.

Even though your outfits weren’t as flashy as some others at RAD (looking at you Asmo), there was something more intimate to them. Walking hand-in-hand under a paper parasol, you almost feel like true newlyweds.

Wrath:

Satan took a more historical approach to the prompt. Instead of dressing in modern wedding styles, he was set upon basing your costumes on a different era. So, the two of you researched weddings across the ages and decided on the Victorian Era. He had some suits fashioned for the two of you – with a couple of modern touches, like less scratchy fabrics.

The day of, you had expected to look much more uncomfortable in your suit. Afterall, the whole ensemble included the appropriate socks, high-waisted pants, an undershirt, a collar shirt, a vest, a cravat, a morning coat, and (of course) a top hat. The whole outfit was a bit stuffy, given all the layers, but you felt exceedingly charming in it. Maybe it was the top hat or the smart mulberry coat, but you were struck with a surge of confidence as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You were startled by a knock on the door. On the other side you found Satan, looking absolutely princely. He wore a traditionally blue morning coat with a white waistcoat and green hellebore flowers tucked in his coat pocket. It looked as if he tried to slick back his hair, but a few troublesome strands still managed to fall in his face.

Admittedly, you had felt shy under his gaze as he seemed to take in every element of you. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “You look absolutely exquisite.” With how hot your face became; you could have boiled a pot.

It turned out wearing multiple layers in Devildom wasn’t the best idea. It was a blessing that Satan was around to remind you to drink water or to sit down and shrug off a few layers when you got too woozy. Even so, the two of you were the most elegant looking couple at RAD. It was like you had stepped out of a vintage photo.

Lust:

Trust that Asmo has spent WEEKS planning for this day and you were absolutely dragged into that preparation. This included tearing through wedding boutiques looking for the perfect dress. Make no mistake, he gets to wear the wedding dress. Period.

Inevitably, none of the dresses met his expectations and he designed his own. Poor Levi was roped into helping make the dress. Once all that was completed, then it was your turn. He helped you pick out a chic suit. The two of you decided to ditch the plain, traditional suit for a sleeker vest suit.

You saw the dress on the hanger before you saw it on Asmo because he insisted you get ready together so he could help you with your ensemble. After Asmo’s 100 step self-care routine and getting dressed in your own outfit, he finally stepped out in his full costume.

Draped in silvery organza that gathered on a floor like a blooming flower, his modesty barely saved by the plunge line, stark white sheath underneath the transparent fabric, Asmo looked beyond stunning. He forwent the traditional veil for a giant, wide brimmed lace hat.

Of course, you complimented him, and he ate it up. However, the rest of the morning was devoted to you. Your brightly patterned vest was the statement piece of your outfit and Asmo was able to bring it all together with a few choice accessories. Together, the two of you were so dazzlingly, that the student body has a hard time looking at you directly.

At RAD, Asmo insisted on a photo shoot. Of course, he roped other students into it, too. He spent a decent part of the day photographing other’s outfits. When he showed you the glamour shots he took of you, you were floored. Even dressed in an outfit out of your comfort zone, Asmo had managed to capture you candidly – truly as yourself.

Gluttony:

Honestly, Beel was just happy that you wanted to dress up with him. He went shopping with you to pick out outfits and worked to match his outfit to whatever suit you chose, but he didn’t really have an opinion on his own outfit. So, he ended up choosing a classical tuxedo.

The day of, he came to your door, a rose and a sunflower in hand, and looking like the sweetest thing in the world. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as he tucked the flowers into your coat pocket and complimented your appearance.

The two of you weren’t the flashiest couple at RAD, but you sure did get a lot of looks when Beel decided to carry you bridal style for the rest of the day. The action had Lucifer in a tizzy, but it just made you feel warm and loved to be tucked into his chest. Asmo just had to take a picture of you two like that. You were glad he did, since you now keep that photo tucked in a safe place.

The highlight of the day for Beel was absolutely the massive wedding cake that Barbatos made for lunch time. It had to have had at least a hundred tiers to it. The cake was the traditional white with intricate pink and red frosting roses as decoration. Beyond Barb’s beautifully crafted cake, Beel seemed to really appreciate the tradition of couples feeding cake to each other. Especially when he could use it as an excuse to kiss the remaining crumbs off your lips.

Sloth:

Belphie decided he was going to wear a pajama suit to Wedding Day. You know, the ones with a suit printed on the front? Yeah, there was zero effort to be had for Spirit Week. So, you just decided to roll with it.

You found a suit made of satin pajama material, some slippers, and used a bed sheet as a cape for some flair. Belphie couldn’t help but laugh when you went to retrieve him from the attic. It was enough to prompt him to go to school that day. BUT you had to bridal carry him there. (Don’t worry, Beel helped you out if you weren’t strong enough.)

The two of you were clearly out of place in your pajamas among the sea of white dresses and suit. You got plenty of odd stares from the other students as you passed them in the halls. Asmo was personally offended by the costumes you showed up in. Even more so because the two of you wouldn’t take a proper photo. The two of you looked like a walrus passed out on Ambien every time someone turned a camera on the two of you.

It wasn’t until the two of you started napping anywhere and everywhere at RAD that Lucifer began to rag on the two of you. The temptation was too much for Belphie. He was wearing pajamas and your bed sheet cape made naps easily accessible. It was just too easy for the two of you to cuddle up together.

Apparently, Lucifer had been holding back a lecture on proper attire because it was Spirit Week but sleeping in the middle of the hallway was the last straw. The two of you got a scolding that was about half a day long, but according to Belphie, it was completely worth it. He could never regret spending a day creating mischief with you.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me gn!mc #obey me spirit week #obey me gender neutral mc

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hopelesshawks · 4 years ago

Text

Physical Fatality Part 8- The Fallout

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Masterlist

You walk into the lobby of your agency already tired and irritable. You haven’t slept well the past couple days since the break up. That first night you’d drank well into the night alone in your room. Then last night you’d elected to take the graveyard patrol shift to avoid having to face your empty bed once again. As a result, you have zero patience for the stares and whispers you’re getting as you make your way over to the elevators. It’s early and you already are grappling with the fact you’re about to see Hawks for the first time since he ripped your heart out. As you get into the elevator you have to resist the temptation to groan as a few of your coworkers also enter. It is blissfully quiet for awhile until one of them decides to try and pipe up before exiting onto his floor. “I always knew you were a traitor and a slut,” he sneers at you as he steps out of the elevator.

You will be having none of that. Fuck this guy.

You‘ve already been using your quirk a lot because of patrol so you should probably be giving it a rest but instead you use it to grab hold of the guy, drag him back into the elevator, and slam him up against the side. The couple people remaining quickly scurry out, not wanting to be caught in your anger, as you release your quirk and instead press him against the elevator with a hand on his throat. The elevator continues its ascent but you pay very little mind. “What the fuck did you just call me?” you ask him, your tone lethal. “I-I’m sorry,” the man stutters, eyes filled with fear, “it’s just we all saw the photos of you with Hawks.” Your blood runs cold but you refuse to let this coward see his words have any kind of effect on you. “What photos?” you demand. “The ones of you and Hawks in the alleyway. One of the tabloids ran a whole article on it and now a few others are trying to pick up the pictures and run their own story,” the man explains. The door pings indicating you’ve reached your floor and you’ve gotten the only useful information you’ll get out of the guy anyway. “The fear you’re feeling right now? Remember it the next time you think about talking shit,” you hiss at the guy before releasing him and storming out of the elevator.

You do think back over what he said though. The pictures from the alleyway? You pull out your phone and type your own name into Google. Who cares if you’re late to the meeting at this point, you need to know what the fuck is going on. Immediately the search results are flooded with the article the man was referencing. You pull it up and each successive word has you feeling nauseous. The pictures even more so. They’re from the day you and Hawks broke up, when he had pulled you into the alleyway. You knew it. You fucking knew that was too risky and that you two would get caught. Then the bastard had the nerve to shatter your heart into pieces later that same day. The more you think about it the angrier you become. You don’t make the conscious decision to storm into the meeting necessarily but before you know it your feet are taking you that direction. You shove the doors to the conference room open, causing everyone to turn to you bewildered. They must not have seen the headlines yet if they’re shocked by what they see. Now that you think about it, had you even stopped drowning your sorrows long enough to tell Bakugo and Midoriya about the break up? You’re about to say something, you’re not sure what, when your eyes finally land on Hawks and the bastard has the nerve to also look like he’s had a shitty couple days.

You see red.

You lunge forward at the man who’d shattered your heart and probably just ruined your career. You are desperate to do something, anything, to make him feel a fraction of what you’re feeling right now. Deku and Bakugo are quick to catch you and try to hold you back but you struggle admirably against their hold. When that doesn’t work you reach out with your quirk to pin Hawks, wings and all, against the opposite wall. Tokoyami moves to defend his friend but Shoto gives a slight shake of his head to warn him against interfering. Silver veins crawl up your arms and it hurts but you don’t care because it’s nothing compared to the pain in your heart. “You fucking bastard! I told you we’d get caught! You don’t get to leave me and fuck up my career,” you yell and you see something like shock and guilt flash behind Hawks’ eyes but that only enrages you further. Midoriya and Bakugo agree that that’s enough and so both of them use their quirks to force you to the ground, pinning you. “You need to calm down,” Midoriya tells you sternly. “Fuck off,” you spit back. “No. Calm. Down. This isn’t going to help you but if you explain what’s going on maybe we can sort this out,” he insists. You glare him down for awhile but as the red haze finally fades and your anger returns down to a simmer you finally relax and release Hawks from your quirk. “Good, now, Kacchan and I are going to let you up and you’re not going to lunge at Hawks. Right?” Midoriya asks. “Right,” you huff.

Bakugo and Midoriya release you and you stand up off the floor but uphold your end of the bargain and don’t lunge out at Hawks again. He’s giving you a sad look and it pisses you off but you don’t want to be physically restrained again and Midoriya is right that it solves nothing. “Have any of you read today’s gossip headlines?” you ask. You get a chorus of no’s back, those from Shoto and Tokoyami being confused, but the other three know where this is heading. “(Y/n) I-“ Hawks starts but he’s interrupted by a new voice. “I’m sorry am I interrupting something? A lover’s spat perhaps? You’ll have to get used to those Hawks,” Monoma snarks and you grit your teeth. “What the fuck do you want extra?” Bakugo asks. “All Might would like to see my ex-fiancé in his office,” Monoma replies. You’re immediately filled with dread but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of letting it show on your face. Instead you just glare at him as you turn to leave the room.

The walk to All Might’s office feels like a death march and it occurs to you that you wish you didn’t have to do it alone. Your treacherous heart tells you that you wish Keigo was with you but you shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. You enter into All Might’s office and try not to let your nerves show. “You wanted to see me sir?” you ask as you walk into the office. “Yes, sit down,” All Might says as he gestures to the chair in front of his desk. Even after all these years it’s still odd seeing All Might in his scrawny form. After all you had grown up on the image of the symbol of peace, standing tall and broad, towering above villains. Still, even though he looks positively skeletal, he’s intimidating as ever as you sit across from him. Maybe because he holds the future of your career in his hands. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the headlines,” All Might sighs and you nod. There isn’t much you can say to that. “I figured after you left Monoma, which I still don’t understand, that you would go back to sleeping around but I also assumed you would keep things a little more subtle than this. I mean Hawks? Really? I don’t ask for much, (y/n), but we talked about this,” All Might continues. “I know we did, but-“ you start but All Might cuts you off. “No buts, I warned you what would happen if we went through this again. The agency has a reputation to maintain.” “But this time is different!” “How is this any different than the last time you were caught sleeping around, other than how high profile this one is?” “We’re in love!” It hurts to say it. It hurts because Hawks doesn’t love you anymore but you’re desperate to save your career. “Really?” All Might asks with a raise of his brow. “Yes, really. You can ask Izuku and Katsuki, they’ll back me up. I’ve been seeing Hawks in secret. I know I should’ve told you but we were worried because of the feud. We got sloppy and the paparazzi caught us before we could make an official announcement or anything,” you lie and god how you wish it were true even as you say it. Maybe that’s why the lie is so convincing. All Might sighs heavily, you’re probably giving him a migraine, but he seems to believe you. “All right well if that’s the case we’ll have to set up an interview ASAP so you two can officially announce your relationship and dispel any rumors that you’re back to sleeping around. I know you don’t like them but I’ll be expecting the two of you to make appearances at some of the major HPSC events,” he tells you. “Of course, thank you sir,” you sigh out in relief. You have no idea how you’ll convince Hawks to play along but something tells you at worst you can guilt him into it. “That’s not all (y/n), I’m pulling you from the task force,” All Might adds. “You’re what!? But sir!” “No. I won’t budge on this. Monoma will be taking your place.” “But I haven’t done anything wrong!” “Look I can’t control whether Hawks stays on or not but I can control whether you do. It is a bad idea for you to be romantically involved with someone on the task force so you’re off the team effective immediately. You are to collect all of your notes and files on the matter and hand them over to Monoma. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes sir...” “Good.” You rise to leave the office, frustrated tears already threatening to fall as you make your way to the door. “For what it’s worth (y/n),” All Might says and you pause to listen, “I am happy for you.” You nod in acknowledgment of what he’s said but you don’t otherwise respond. You don’t think any words would come out if you tried and you’d hate to cry in front of you boss.

You leave All Might’s office and head to your desk, fishing out all of the files and notes you’d been taking, all of your hard work from over the past couple months. You then head back to the conference room. The atmosphere is tense and judging by the looks everyone is giving you they’ve all read the article by now. “Monoma can you give me a minute with the others?” you ask, although your eyes never leave the stack of papers in your arms. “I don’t know little Artemis, it’s rude to kick out guests you know,” he replies. “Neito please. You already won, can you just-“ you ask, trailing off as you finally make eye contact with him. He hesitates. He doesn’t revel in your pain, not really, and he never quite understood the magnitude of how important your reputation is to you and to your career. In all the time the two of you had been together you’d never explained, so, because, in spite of everything, part of him still loves you, he relents. “Fine. But I’m going to wait outside because I want to, not because you told me to,” Monoma huffs before going to do just that.

“What do you mean he already won?” Midoriya asks and you hate the pity on his face. “I’m being pulled off the case. Monoma will be taking over for me, effective immediately,” you answer. “What? That’s bullshit! All Might can’t just-“ Bakugo fumes but you cut him off. “He can and he did. I’m lucky I talked him out of worse,” you explain. A heavy silence falls over the room. “Speaking of which,” you sigh as you turn to face Hawks. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. It might have been funny under different circumstances. You steel yourself, he doesn’t get to see you weak anymore, and meet his eyes with cold determination. “Look, about what I said the other day,” Hawks starts and he’s tripping over and choking on his words as if he has any right to be nervous or upset right now. “Save it. I have watched you devour me like you mistook me for bread these past few months. Are you fed now?” you start. Hawks opens his mouth to answer but you shut him down immediately. “Don’t. It’s a rhetorical question. You give me the messiest head and I get you don’t give a shit about me but now my career is on the line so you’re going to listen up whether you want to or not,” you continue and Hawks’ face is turning red, shame and frustration and guilt coming off him in waves. Good. You want to give the impression that you got the message he wishes you were dead. You don’t believe it, not fully, but it will give you the edge you need to convince him to agree to your terms. He looks like he’s about to break into a sweat at any minute so you decide now is the time to give your proposal. “We aren’t done. I am undoing your little fucking break up from the other day. I won’t let us finish yet,” you say, your voice filled with a confidence you don’t have. “Is that a threat?” Shoto asks, but you shake your head before going back to addressing Hawks. “Don’t take this as a threat. All I’m saying is if you don’t love me anymore then lie. If you don’t you’ll end my career,” you finish.

It’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room as everyone waits for Hawks’ response. He never thought it would come to this. He’s never felt so selfish in his life now for how he ended things and the assumptions he made after talking to Endeavor. Perhaps he was naive, just not in the way Endeavor had implied. He was naive to think the press would just leave you alone about moving on when they have repeatedly demonstrated you are their favorite punching bag. He was naive to think Endeavor somehow knew you better than he did based off of nothing but your employer and former hero ranking. Maybe, though, this could be his second chance. Maybe he could use this opportunity to explain and show you he does still love you. “Did you hear me?” you ask and it snaps Hawks out of his thoughts. “I heard what you said. I won’t have to lie, I do still love you. We love each other and that’s not something we can change. I’ll explain everything later,” he swears but he can tell you don’t believe it. He forms his own game plan. Treat you right and you won’t complain, then maybe he can get you to listen to his side of the story and undo the damage he wrought. “Whatever Hawks, as long as we’re in agreement,” you sigh. “I’m serious, (y/n) we won’t have to lie,” Hawks insists and it makes you hesitate. Not for long, but just long enough for Hawks to see a glimmer of hope.

You toss the stack of papers you have onto the conference table and turn to leave. “Where are you going?” Midoriya asks. “I said effective immediately didn’t I? I’m going back out on patrol,” you respond. “Don’t be an idiot, you should give your quirk time to rest,” Bakugo protests but you roll your eyes before ultimately ignoring him and walking out the door. Hawks watches the whole exchange, noting that the silver veins on your forearms hadn’t even entirely disappeared yet even as you storm out. Every move of his will be vital now if he wants to win you back, including the ones he makes in front of Bakugo and Midoriya when you’re not around. He’s sure they’d love nothing more than to rip him apart right now. Monoma re-enters the room and that effectively kills any more conversation that could be had on the matter but Hawks knows what he has to do.

He has to win you back.

Author’s Note: We in the second half now bois and it is a whole nother animal. The inspiration really hit yesterday so I’m hoping I can keep up that energy and get quite a few updates in at a faster pace than the last few before 7 and the interlude were in. These last few have been more overtly connected to the associated song from the Halsey album I think so it may be fun to listen as you read and see what lines you can spot, idk

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp

#hopelesspf #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks

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