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kaiijo · 1 year

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HE HAS A RIVAL FOR YOUR HEART — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: itoshi rin, mikage reo, nagi seishiro content: fem! reader, reader is a pro-athlete in rin’s but there’s no physical descriptions, feat. miya atsumu + bokuto koutarou (hq!!), kagami taiga (knb), characters are pro-athletes so i envision them as being in their 20s in this notes: when can this be me?

⋆｡° itoshi rin

Rin glanced around the stadium, taking in the lights and spectators and other athletes with disinterest and a mounting annoyance. He loathed having himself and the rest of the team paraded around like show ponies, but he supposed he could play nice (well, as nicely as he could) given that this was a charity event and that you were here.

You were the starting setter for Japan’s women’s volleyball team, and someone who Rin had taken a recent liking to. He found you to be pleasant to be around, never irritating or pushy and you were kind and talented. He had a certain fondness for you, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He spotted you a few yards away in the stadium. The charity event had professional athletes competing in something like a field day, and you were all grouped by the type of sport you played, which meant you stood with both your own team and the men’s national volleyball team.

Rin’s eyes trailed over you, a small smile making its way to his face as he admired how you looked in your uniform. His mood soured when he saw who you were talking to: Miya Atsumu. He had only met Atsumu a handful of times, usually when you invited a couple of friends to hang out, but he knew the two of you were close, if Atsumu’s frequent presence on your social media was anything to go by. Rin’s lips would curl into a sneer whenever he’d see Atsumu’s smirky face appear on his Instagram in a post from your account, envy clawing at his throat when he saw Atsumu’s arm thrown around your shoulders as you two took a post-practice picture together.

His eyes, unfortunately, met Atsumu’s gaze and Rin scowled at the smug smile and wave Atsumu gave him. He tuned out most of what the host of the event was saying, only listening in again when they announced that Japan’s men’s volleyball team would be going up against the national men’s soccer team in the first game.

His eyes met Atsumu’s again, and he glared when he saw you give him a high-five and wished him good luck. Then, you turned away from him and made your way over to Rin. He stood up straighter as you approached and you grinned at him, clapping your hands together. “Good luck, Rin.”

He replied, “I don’t need luck to beat these mediocrities.”

You just smiled and nodded and said, “I’m sure but I wanted to say good luck anyways.”

Rin paused for a moment, watching as his teammates began to get into position for the first event. You said, “I should get to the sidelines.”

You turned to leave and then Rin asked, “Don’t I get a high-five?” You snorted but raised your hand up anyway. Instead of simply hitting his hand against yours, Rin took your hand in his and intertwined his fingers with yours.

You stared at him as he grew a second head. “What’s this, Rin?”

He released your hand and shrugged. “Soaking up your supposed good luck.” He met Atsumu’s gaze for the third time and this time, it was Rin’s turn to smirk.

⋆｡° mikage reo

Reo glanced over the crowd of people in his apartment again, spotting his own teammates as well as other friends and friends of friends. He frowned when he didn’t see you anywhere. Chigiri, who he had been chatting with, patted him on the back and said, “Be patient, I’m sure she’ll show up soon.”

Reo sighed and offered him a tight-lipped smile. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket a few moments later and he reached for it frantically, a message from you on his lockscreen. He swiped across the screen to open it.

You [10:32 PM] sorry i’m running late!! you said u were ok if i brought a friend right?

Reo typed back a quick reply. Of course! The more the merrier hahaha

You [10:34 PM] perf! we’re about a block away

When you said you’d be bringing a friend, Reo had expected it to be one of your girl friends. When he opened his door, however, he didn’t expect to see the semi-familiar, six-foot-three form of pro-basketball player Kagami Taiga standing beside you.

You beamed at Reo, throwing your arms around his shoulder in a hug. “Thanks so much for the invite,” you said. You pulled back to introduce the two of them, and Kagami said, “I think we’ve met before. Mikage, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Reo chuckled but he could hear how strained he sounded. There were a thousand thoughts racing through his head, though the loudest one was Who is Kagami to you? You had called him a friend, but really, what did that mean? Was he just a friend or was he a friend?

He realized he had been just standing there, so Reo moved to the side and said, “Sorry, come in.”

As the night progressed, Reo found himself torn between being happy you wanted to spend time with him and irritation that you also insisted on dragging Kagami along with you. He forgot that you had spent a lot of your childhood in America, where you apparently had known Kagami. When you moved to Japan for high school, when you and Reo met, you lost touch with Kagami and only recently reconnected.

As you regaled him with stories about you and Kagami, not only from when you were kid but also from the past few months after you got in touch again, Reo resisted the urge to frown. The two of you sounded close and he didn’t appreciate the affectionate glances Kagami threw you when he thought no one could see. Was this it? Was he going to lose you?

“So,” Kagami asked, “how did you two meet?”

“Oh!” You smiled so brightly at Reo and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Back in the first year of high school, I saw Reo buy a drink from one of the school vending machines but it didn’t come out, so I offered to stick my hand up and grab it.”

Kagami snickered. “Were you successful?”

“Yup!” You wrapped an arm around Reo’s waist, leaning into him. “That’s how we became friends.” As you launched into stories about yours, Reo’s, and later on, Nagi’s exploits in high school, Reo couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through his chest as you spoke fondly about him. Maybe there was a chance for him, after all.

⋆｡° nagi seishiro

All Nagi had wanted was to have a lazy Saturday with you. They had been given a brief break in training and he immediately asked if you wanted to hang out with him, to which you enthusiastically agreed and asked if he wanted to come over to your apartment to watch movies, play video games, and relax all around. Nagi couldn’t have jumped quicker at the opportunity.

What he didn’t anticipate was one of your other friends, a pro-volleyball player named Bokuto Koutarou, weaseling his way into these plans too. Apparently, his team was also giving their players a week’s reprieve from practice and training. And suddenly, your two person plan became three and Nagi’s hope for a peaceful day was shattered because, as he quickly discovered, Bokuto Koutarou was very loud and very energetic.

Nagi pouted from behind his phone, peeking up at you and Bokuto, who were animatedly discussing something one of your mutual friends did. He didn’t even really care that he wasn’t in the conversation given that he had no idea what was going on; what he did care about was how Bokuto monopolized you and the way your eyes were so bright around him. Was that the kind of guy you liked? Hyperactive and noisy?

Nagi’s frustration only grew when his phone screen flashed a big GAME OVER sign at him. Then, he watched as Bokuto leaned close to you, reaching towards your hair and pulling out what he claimed to be a piece of fuzz or whatever, and Nagi felt his tenuous patience snap. Time to get serious, it seemed.

Nagi stood up from the chair he was sitting in, plopping on your other side on the couch and draping his large body of yours. Both you and Bokuto startled a little and Nagi felt a sick sense of pleasure when he saw Bokuto’s eyes narrow at him. Nagi’s voice came out in a low purr, feigning drowsiness as he asked, “Can we watch that Netflix movie we planned on today?” His eyes flickered up to Bokuto’s face, his silent message clear: Let’s watch the movie we planned on before we were rudely interrupted.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #rin x reader #reo x reader #nagi x reader

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vaspider · 2 months

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Some good news/joy to share: when I marched in Mardi Gras this past weekend I saw SO MANY kids and teens there watching the parade and it was so heartwarming. And there were some kids and teens with trans flags/trans pride flag clothing and I'd point to the trans flag button I'd pinned to my costume and point at myself and smile and I got such smiles and cheers back it made me tear up with joy. It was so amazing to march with other queer folks and show our pride and strength and love to the thousands of spectators but especially seeing kids there with their families - I am so happy for those kids. I never could have imagined something like this when I was younger, and I am gonna be emotionally overwhelmed for ages about this but in the best way. Queer joy is so powerful. Trans joy is so powerful.

That's incredible.

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letoasai · 11 months

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DP- Father Time

What if…. Clockwork was around far longer than Danny knew….

Life was a parade, and Clockwork had the best view. He was the master of time, he knew all of what was and what wasn’t. He saw the threads of every timeline, and took the best each had to offer for the most people.

He had pride in his work, and an annoying habit of always being right. How could he be wrong when he knew the future. He knew every future. This was one of the major reasons he was irritated when someone, namely the Observants, decided to tell him how to do his job.

They saw what was laid out in front of them. They saw what he laid out in front of them. They were spectators that clung too tightly to their oaths to merely watch, while cheating at the motion in the same breath. They acted so haughty but thought nothing of turning around and demanding Clockwork do this or that for them.

Clockwork would generally avoid having to deal with them by agreeing ��something’ needed to be ‘done’ and then go back to doing what he wanted in the first place. Observers they might be, ancient even, but they did not have the power to watch his every move. He directed things in the right direction, the way he always had with or without their say so.

The future he had been keeping an eye on was swiftly on its way to becoming the present. The thrill of it put a smile on his face. Frankly it had been a while since he’d been so eager for anything.

He’d be busy, but time was such a controllable thing for him.

Making a portal to the moral plane, Clockwork floated through, remaining invisible. The house was the cozy sort, and deceiving normal though he knew it wouldn’t be for long. The hideous space like craft structure wasn’t yet protruding from the roof like an unwanted appendage. The glowing Fenton Works sign wasn’t out front yet either.

The contamination was present however. It was still in low, nearly unnoticeable amounts, but that was still double what was generally found in nature. At least in normal places that weren’t consecrated grounds or otherwise filled with abnormal levels of death.

This really was no place for children.

Unseen by the two small occupants in the room, he observed as a small boy was seated at the kitchen table, watching nervously while his older sister knelt on a chair at the counter, carefully pouring juice into a sippy cup. It was a small task, but not one such small children should have been dealing with unsupervised.

“Almost done, Danny.” Jazz said, turning to look at him with a smile. She only just barely noticed the way the chair wobbled, and didn’t notice how it stilled right after, Clockwork holding out an unseen hand to steady it with his telekinesis. It might have been a small thing, but it was unnecessary to have a timeline where the small girl fell off her chair and cracked her head on the counter. She would end up fine, and with seventeen stitches. Her younger brother, terrified of climbing on the kitchen chairs for the following five years.

It could be skipped.

It might have been meddling, but after the burden these two would end up growing up with, he saw no reason not to show them occasional good fortune.

Jazz climbed down from the counter, a sippy cup and small plastic cup in each hand. She set them on the table before running back to the counter to grab the peanut butter sandwiches she’d set on a paper towel.

It was lunch for two, and both were so young they didn’t see anything wrong with this scenario. It was perhaps wrong to interfere, but Clockwork saw a future that depended on both of them. Young Danny was going to be immensely important, and he would always cling to his sisters unwavering support.

There were too many futures where accidents harmed these children before the proper timeline could come into effect. Some where one or both children died before puberty even. That could not be allowed to happen, not if he wanted the most ideal time line.

The problem with that was that there wasn’t always someone present to protect them. Meddling be damned, he was not going to have the future suffer for such a small reason.

“I found extra new books in my closet!” Jazz said, as she climbed onto her chair at the table. “I’ll read to you after we eat!”

Danny was small, and possibly should have still been in some kind of booster seat at the table. Instead, he sat on a phone book, and even then was too small to do much more than see over the table. He didn’t talk much. Whether he was too small, or delayed in his milestones, Clockwork wasn’t sure.

For all his infinite knowledge, child care wasn’t something he would have put on a resume of his skills. Leaving a few books around for the children was easy enough, but care was something rather different.

Danny ate silently, his feet kicking to show his good mood. Neither child seemed worried about the fact that their parents were locked away in the basement, oblivious to how much time was really passing.

As the keeper of time he could understand that, but he didn’t think it an excuse to not have proper priorities in place.

“You can pick the book, okay? One of them has planets on it.”

Danny’s smile grew, eyes nearly shining with excitement.

“We’ll start with that one.” Jazz promised.

Clockwork hovered, deciding he could leave them for the time being. It was a shame that little Jasmine had to be so responsible but the accident had been avoided. Today was a success for the timeline.

At least they didn’t have to worry about the food from the fridge attacking them just yet. That was a set period of time that Clockwork was not actively looking forward to. The Fenton Parents were quite the extraordinary inventors, but they were rather lacking as parents. It was a shame that even in the best timeline possible so far, the pair had never really realized it.

While some might have called it interference, Clockwork didn’t see it that way. Since he didn’t need to ask permission of anyone to do his job, he used his judgment, as always.

At best he could visit the Fenton children every couple of weeks to check in or prevent something terrible from happening. At worst, he was there often. The record so far was needing to show up eight days in a row to either prevent a stressful near future, or to just plain take care of the children in some other way.

The tasks he could do invisibly and unobtrusively were the easiest to handle. The ones were he couldn’t avoid being seen where… questionable.

The one night he slid into Danny’s room, even the ticking of his own clock stuttered at the sight of the small boy crying into his pillow after a nightmare. He was going to have a few stern words for Nocturn.

He lifted the child up into his arms, cradling him against his shoulder and maintaining his adult form for this venture. The last thing he needed was to shift into his child form while holding a child.

For Danny’s part, he didn’t bat an eye, just continued to cry softly. He was still small enough that he didn’t care about the stranger in his bedroom. He only cared about the comfort he was getting and the rocking back and forth motion.

This interaction would cost him nothing. Tonight, Danny would be soothed and as he grew older, he would forget this moment ever happened. It would fade into dream-like memories.

“Those scary things can’t hurt you, little King to be.” Clockwork muttered, wiping at the tears falling down Danny’s face.

Blue eyes looked up at him owlishly, lips still wobbling from his fright.

“You just need a distraction.” Clockwork whispered, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. It likely would have only been Jazz though. The Fenton parents were either in the basement or out attempting to hunt what wasn’t yet a problem in Amity Park. He hadn’t bothered to look, he only knew enough to know he wouldn’t be seen or interrupted.

“Nn..” Danny reached up to tug on the hem of his hood.

“Yes.” Clockwork said, ectoplasm filling his palm. The glowing ball snatched Danny’s attention away in an instant, the child reaching for it only to be pulled away. “Not yet. Touching it isn’t safe for you yet.”

Danny stretched again, sniffing back tears as he attempted to reach for it a second time. Instead, the ectoplasm split apart into a dozen little pieces. Each floated up towards the ceiling, rearranging themselves into rough star shapes.

“St-!” Danny pointed up at them, a smile slowly spreading across his little face.

“How about you keep these for the night?” Clockwork asked, “They’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

The toddler was enthralled, head tilted back.

Clockwork laid Danny back down in bed, tucking him in and kneeling at the edge of his bed. “These will watch over you, okay?”

“Nhnn.” Danny’s smile remained, he only spared Clockwork another peaceful look before he looked back up at the ectoplasm stars. Normally, the exposure probably would have been unhealthy but the children were exposed enough. This little bit wouldn’t do any harm. He’d checked.

For several long minutes Clockwork watched him, the child’s eyes blinking slowly. Sleep was tugging at him, but his desire to look at the stars was strong.

“There are scary things out there, little King to be.” Clockwork said softly. “But there are plenty of good things out there too if you look.”

Danny pointed up at the ectoplasm again, the green light spread across the room.

“Goodnight, Danny.” Clockwork said, knowing it would only be minutes before the child’s eyes closed for a much more peaceful bout of sleeping.

Not for the first time, Clockwork found himself surprised by the very future he had already predicted. Knowing the future and living through it in the present were incomparable. Emotions were vast, every ghost knew that in particular. Emotions overflowed for them, and while Clockwork knew he would care about the children, feeling that affection first hand was overwhelming.

The disdain he felt for the ghost hunting Fentons grew as their lack of positive parenting became evident. It wasn’t just their ghost hunting focus that was getting on his nerves, though it hadn’t happened yet, but their poor interactions with their own children.

It shouldn’t have been up to Jazz to take care of her little brother. She went as far as to drop him off at daycare by herself before walking to school alone. Once or twice Clockwork would appear, invisibly hovering beside her to make sure she got to both places safely. Once he’d pulled her and her brother out of the way from being clipped by a car, and twice since then he stopped time momentarily to hold the red lights and let Jazz cross the street on her little legs.

It was frankly outrageous that no one seemed to notice the dangers these kids were constantly in, or the neglect they suffered. All the same, even he could only meddle so much, and he was far more than he realized he’d need to.

As much as he tried to stay out of sight, some occasions were impossible. When he needed to apply baid-aids to both of Danny’s knees when he fell on the concrete steps outside of the house, or when he appeared behind Jazz as a spectral terror to scare away a young man who was following the little girl to the corner store with awful intentions in mind.

The last one had almost been a disaster when Jazz turned around and looked up at him, then at the young man running away as fear gripped his heart.

“Thank you.” Jazz said, though she didn’t quite understand what she was thanking him for. She turned around, marching right back to the corner store with dollar bills in her change purse.

“You’re welcome, Jazz.” He muttered before fading away from sight. Even while being among his predictions of possible outcomes, it was a strange reaction from the little girl who’s parents ranted about ghosts. The blanket acceptance for receiving help.

He didn’t know where her kindness came from, but it was imperative that she passed it on to her brother. She was small, but she was smart. She was reading at a second grade level already, and wrote on the wall calendar what days the bills were due. She was responsible beyond her years, not out of want but necessity.

If Clockwork helped distract Danny for a while so she was able to read or make sandwiches for them, that was their collective business, just the three of them.

“Mr. Ghost.” Jazz blinked up at him one afternoon. She was fidgeting and ended up dropping her gaze to her feet. “Can you help me lift the bottle?”

“The…bottle?” He stared at her. Danny ran towards them, running through Clockwork and falling onto his hands and knees with a laugh. The small boy kept trying to grab Clockwork's ghost tail and was endlessly thrilled by not being able to touch it.

“Yeah, for the dirty clothes. I read the directions but i can’t lift the bottle. It’s heavy.” Jazz said, holding out a hand for Danny to help regain his balance.

“Yes. I can help you.” Clockwork said. It was easy to be proud of these children, and quietly infuriating that it was necessary.

It wasn’t just that Jazz had learned to be so self sufficient, it was that Danny knew to stay by his sister. While Jazz tossed their clothes into the washing machine, and Clockwork helped Jazz measure out the detergent, Danny sat on the floor nearby playing with a spaceship that Jazz had made for him out of paper plates, duct tape, and plastic straws.

These kids were growing up with only occasional visits from their parents while living in the same house.

“Thank you.” Jazz said when they had finished.

“You’re quite welcome, Jazz.”

It was almost sad how the Fentons had no idea there was a ghost in their home. Until they did, or until they suspected something was strange.

Danny was little, and didn’t know who he was supposed to share things with, or what he was supposed to keep secret. When he started to talk about his flying friend, his see-through friend, the Fentons over reacted.

Clockwork might have had to stay out of the house for a few weeks, but he still watched carefully as Jack and Maddie searched the house, Danny’s room in particular. Ghost hunting was their obsession and they took a toddler at his word.

When he finally started crying over his parents too loud, nearly volatile search, Jazz lost her temper.

“He just has an imaginary friend! It’s not real! Not everything is a ghost! Ghosts aren’t real!”

“Now, Jazz.” Maddie tried to soothe her. “If he says he saw-”

“He’s a baby! All you talk about is ghosts. Of course his imaginary friend would look like a ghost, but you aren’t finding anything, are you?! Ghosts aren’t real!” She took Danny’s hand and stomped off to her own room where they could play in peace, away from the whirling alarms of ghost gadgets.

It was the stance the small girl would take for years. Ghosts did not exist, while she knew very well that they did. She chose to protect Clockwork over letting her parents know that there had been a ghost in the house.

It was however, a reminder to Clockwork that he was becoming a little too complacent. He was being seen a little too often. Danny couldn’t know about him until the time was right, but Jazz was more than capable of keeping quiet.

He continued to tuck Danny in after a nightmare and a night of glowing ectoplasm stars on the ceiling. He also continued to help Jazz when something was just a little out of her means, but otherwise did better to stay hidden.

Even invisible, Jazz often knew when he was around. It had Clockwork smiling at the future where she would be in full control of her liminality. The kids were growing to be quite capable.

In theory, Clockwork had been looking forward to the day where Danny became a halfa. It was the start of so much, the next checkpoint of the most favorable future. It was a sure thing now, but Clockwork’s own emotions were wavering the day in question. Watching Danny head down into the lab with his two friends trailing behind him had him feeling sick. Yes, Danny would become a halfa, and someday he would become king, but now, this day, Danny was going to die.

Had there been another way, Clockwork would have considered it. Instead, all he could do was be present, watching invisibly as the child he’d helped raise was killed and born anew in the same breath. It was the most terrible thing he’d seen in recent memory.

It was difficult not to immediately rush to his side. To offer to teach him how to use the new abilities he’d just gain. He saw the fear on Danny’s face, and saw the cold air puff between his lips. Danny didn’t yet know what his ghost sense was. He didn’t know Clockwork was in the very same room with him. This was the start, and like always, Clockwork would be watching. He would do what he was able to keep the boy safe, and winced at the months it would take before Jazz caught on to what was happening.

Her brother becoming a halfa was not in the realm of possibilities that she was expecting but she would be his support, well versed by that point that their were both good and bad ghosts.

Someday, Clockwork might tell Danny how long he’d been in his life. Someday, Danny might forgive him for his rough half ghost beginning and letting things fall where they were meant to. He didn’t revel in Danny’s struggles, but those struggles were what would make him a fitting king.

Soon he’d get to introduce himself to Danny, and his first task for the boy would be a harrowing one, but he knew what Danny could do when he tried. Until then, Clockwork would watch the parade from above, his pride in the Fenton children immeasurable.

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #Jazz Fenton #Clockwork #bad fenton parents #Clockwork Dad #ghost dad

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 11 months

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Bluebird — Part IV — (Azriel x Reader)

Hey! Here’s Part IIII to this! Thank you for being lovely about it. 💕

Warnings: None for this part!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Your fingers danced across the piano keys with a mind entirely of their own.

Sheet music sat before you, but you didn’t need to glance at it. This was pure muscle memory. Your favourite piece, memorised note by note. Playing it always felt like breathing for the first time.

Arrival of the Bluebird, it was called. You couldn’t help smiling as you played.

The notes climbed and fell in their flawless way, always like the calming ebb and flow of a tide. You soaked it in, your eyes closed, your skin prickling at the music caressing you—

A soft rustle sounded behind you. A rude awakening.

Two thoughts struck you at that moment.

The first — that you’d never played for anyone but yourself. To have a spectator felt like parading naked through the village.

And the second — that said spectator was, bizarrely, of the same ilk that you had been raised to detest.

A shadow moved in your periphery, and your fingers fell still, the music coming to an abrupt stop.

The creature — Azriel — loomed at your side, his gaze intent on where your hands had sat.

“Beautiful.” He murmured softly. “You play so flawlessly.”

It seemed so, so strange, so wrong, to sit and chat casually with a creature of such bloodshed. Like the tune had washed over you and made you truly aware of the situation. Of the action you’d taken.

You’d let him into your home.

You’d helped him when he’d been more or less incapacitated. When you probably had the advantage to strike and make a killing blow. To rid the world of one of its demons.

And now you were playing music for him. Had he…had he enchanted you, somehow? Some faerie magic, perhaps, that put you at such ease? That made you forget who you were alone in a building with?

Your body was taut as a bowstring as you slowly swivelled on the stool to face him. And his beauty struck you speechless again.

He offered you a smile. One that was small and reserved, and yet held such devastating charm. You quickly forced your eyes away.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked softly.

Your hands twisted around each other as you answered, “I taught myself.”

“Entirely by yourself?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Some people can’t reach such skill even with honed, esteemed pianists to master them. It must be in your blood.”

You’d always thought so. The piano had been here your entire life — your fingers had inched towards it for as long as you could remember.

“I’m told my mother used to play.” You said. That sore spot in your heart stung at the mere mention of the parent you’d never known. “The piano used to be out in the bar area. My father told me that she used to play every night, and people would flock to the inn just to listen.”

There was a heavy, unmissable pause. You were sure you noticed Azriel’s shoulders stiffening out of the corner of your eye.

“Used to?” He asked quietly. “Is she…is she no longer alive?”

You turned your gaze on him, sure it appeared as blazing as you felt. “I never knew her. She was murdered. By your kind.”

“By my kind?”

“By a group of High Fae.”

Another pause. Azriel’s head dipped a fraction, his eyes lowering to the ground.

“That’s awful.” His voice was soft. Unbearably gentle. “I’m truly sorry that you suffered such a loss. However…I’m not High Fae.”

The declaration was enough for you to narrow your gaze on him. He certainly looked High Fae; you were sure there wasn’t a human in the world who carried such flawless beauty, nor the preternatural stillness that only a honed, immortal being could master.

Azriel smiled wryly, like he knew you were searching for some physical evidence of what he’d said. He turned his head to the side, his fingers moving up to brush the shell of his ear.

A very rounded ear. No pointed tip.

“I hail from a warrior-race of the fae called Illyrians.” He explained. “We’re fae, but…certainly not High Fae.”

You stared at him.

At those rounded ears. The scarred fingers.

As if not being High Fae somehow erased all that had been done.

It didn’t.

You shrugged rather brusquely. “Makes no difference to me. Aren’t all fae the same, with a history steeped in violence? I hate violence.”

“…Blood has been spilled on both sides of the Wall—”

“I hate it.” You cut him off. “Too many people resort to violence needlessly. I see it every single night working in this place. And for fragile humans like ourselves, all it can take is one strike to finish a person off. I wish people — human and Fae — thought more before deciding violence as their route. Perhaps if they did, I wouldn’t have grown up without a mother.”

It was the most you’d said to Azriel in one breath. And you waited for his defensiveness, for him to tell you your thoughts were somehow wrong.

But he simply stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And his response wasn’t what you anticipated.

“You’re not wrong.” His voice was like wrapping yourself in silk. “I’m sorry you’ve seen such violence. I’m glad you have music to escape to, at least.”

You stared back at him, your thoughts emptying for a moment. You willed yourself not to be intimidated by the beauty; by the deadliness of it. He could probably snuff out your life without anyone hearing so much as a squeak from you—

“Are you going to kill me now?” You blurted, rather pathetically.

Azriel’s steeled face twitched just slightly; the only reaction to your question.

It surprised you as he retreated a step. Put more distance between you.

“Why are you so convinced that I want to kill you?” He asked quietly.

“Am I supposed to believe it a coincidence that a Fae male begins appearing in these parts at the same time that the girls in this village are being murdered?”

His brow furrowed. “Girls are being murdered?”

“Yes. The Village Guards have found them brutally slain, and then you appear. If I’m to be next, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t leave me to be found by my father in that condition.”

“I haven’t killed anyone in this village, and I’m not going to kill you.”

His words should have reassured you. But you honed in on the sentence. Saw it for what it was.

He hadn’t killed anyone in this village.

But he’d killed elsewhere.

Bile rose up in your throat as you stared at him. And as he studied your fearful expression, he sighed. Looked away.

“What I told you was true. I was passing by, and I heard your music, and I wanted to hear more. But I don’t wish to frighten you.” He retreated another step. “Perhaps I should go—”

He was cut off by a thump so abrupt, it had you jumping out of your skin. Azriel quickly looked up.

Another thump, followed by a third.

“It’s the door.” You quickly stood, brushing yourself down. “I should answer.”

He pressed himself against the wall as you brushed past him, hurrying through to unlock the front door. You pulled it open a fraction, narrowing your eyes at the darkened figure on your doorstep.

Kiall. He looked…wired. Stimulated. But he didn’t stink of booze, for once.

“I’m sorry about the music.” You said before he could speak. “I didn’t realise how late it had got—”

“I’m not here about your little piano.” The older, scruffy male looked around feverishly. “I shot one down. A Fae. That fucking winged bastard from the alley. Got him right through those wings. He was flying above the village and I got him.”

You swallowed. Pulled the door a little closer to you. If Kiall — or anyone — knew that you had a Fae in your home, you’d be done for. Probably killed right alongside him.

Unless, of course, you gave him up. Disabled him somehow and turned him over to the Village Guards. Perhaps those ash arrows, still lying in the puddle of his blood, could still be of some use—

“Where is the Fae now?” You blurted, blocking Kiall’s minuscule glimpse into your home. “Have the Guards dealt with him?”

“No.” Kiall sneered. “He got away someplace. Probably bleeding out somewhere nearby. I wanted to know if you’d seen or heard anything.”

This was your chance.

Kiall could help you.

Azriel had regained most of his strength, but he’d been caught unaware once already. Surely the two of you could deal with him.

And then you’d never have to worry about him hanging around here again. Watching you. Watching and—

And listening to your music.

If he was to be believed…that was all he’d lingered for.

You didn’t really know why you did it. It probably made you an utter fool. But you swallowed and schooled your expression, shaking your head.

“I didn’t see or hear anything.” You lied. “Like I said — I was playing music.”

Kiall studied you for a moment. And you wondered if, perhaps, the untruth lay blatantly on your face, in your eyes. The Bluebird Inn — your family business and home — was the hub of this little community. Everybody knew you. Everybody knew that you were the daughter of the Fae-hating innkeeper, and the woman who had been murdered by their kind. That you were raised to hate them just as fiercely.

To have one right here, in these very walls…to have helped him, and to now protect him…

You had utterly, utterly lost your mind. But you let none of that show.

“If I see or hear anything suspicious, I’ll report it right away.” You said.

Kiall eyeballed you again. “You do that, Y/N.”

“I will. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Be sure to lock your doors. Don’t want to end up like those other village girls.”

A shiver ran down your back. But you nodded. “I will.” You repeated. “Thank you.”

Kiall had always been a strange person. His reputation for being a drunk was known from one end of the village to the other. But being the one who served him most of those drinks, you saw something more. An ever-present, crazed look in his eye, like he was always on alert, always ready — and happy — to attack. Many of the brawls in the tavern had been started by him over nothing.

That crazed look stayed trained on you, now, as he slowly backed away from your front door. And when a good distance was between you, you pushed it firmly shut. Locked and deadbolted it. Released a long, deep breath.

You slumped against the door, blinking forward.

You’d lied. You’d actually lied. All those years of your father telling you what to do if you came face-to-face with a Fae, and what had you done? Played him music.

And then protected him from the wrath of other villagers.

Maybe you were the crazed one. Maybe—

Soft footsteps thudded against the floor. You looked up as Azriel slowly approached, keeping a great distance away. He studied you unsurely; you had no doubt that he’d heard every word. That he knew what you’d done.

“Are you alright?” His voice was so gentle, so quiet; something you knew no human voice could ever master.

Are you alright? When was the last time anyone had asked you that?—

You knew precisely when. When Azriel had stepped in and protected you from Kiall’s drunken ranting in the alley.

You stared up at him — those hazel eyes — and wondered why. Why he seemed to care.

And why it made you feel good.

“I’m alright.” You eventually answered, pushing to your feet. “You should…probably go, though.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you — for what you did just then. And for pulling those arrows out. And for sharing your beautiful music.”

Your beautiful music. The words almost knocked you breathless.

To hear someone appreciate it so freely—

That, you told yourself, was why you asked, “Will you come back and listen again?”

You could have sworn Azriel’s lips twitched. “I’d certainly like to.”

Insane. This entire thing was insane. You with a Fae in your house, engaging in pleasant conversation. You more or less inviting him back.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You dipped your head, staring at the floor. “Will it be safe? Flying, I mean — with the injuries. And with Kiall still snooping around.”

“I have enough strength to get home without flying, now.” Azriel nodded. “I’ll be alright. And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“Will you be alright?”

Yes? No? You weren’t sure. Possibly not. You weren’t entirely convinced that you wouldn’t collapse under the entire, bizarre weight of the night’s events. You were in need of a stiff drink yourself.

But you nodded, all the same. “I’ll be alright.”

A moment passed of nothing. No sound, no movement. Neither of you took a step forward or back.

But then Azriel inclined his head. “Goodnight, then. Sleep well.”

“You—”

Before your very eyes — before you could complete your sentence — he disappeared into thin air. You blinked at the space that he’d vacated. And at the words you knew you were about to speak.

You sleep well, too.

Well-wishes to a Fae. You almost laughed at yourself.

But as you stepped past the spot in which Azriel had stood, you paused at the scent that lingered. And inhaled.

A scent like…like fresh, undisturbed snow. Frosty nights and cedarwood.

It was calming. Soothing. You felt it wash over you, like a blanket of security.

You stood there for a moment longer, and then made your way into the bar area to clean up. And fix yourself that drink.

And you found yourself continuously glancing out of the window. Wondering if Azriel truly would come back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel didn’t consider the fact that he looked a little worse for wear.

That blood still stained his wings, his clothes, his skin.

That his hair made him appear like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. That he looked as though he could use at least three weeks’ worth of sleep.

Honed spymaster, indeed.

He traipsed into Rhysand’s office. The High Lord immediately sat up in his chair, relief filling his eyes.

“Don’t go quiet on me like that, asshole.” He admonished. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“Sorry.” Az winced slightly as he lowered himself into his chair; the wings were still a little sore. “Took a couple of ash arrows to the wings.”

Rhys stared back at him. “So it’s true, then. The humans are trying to rise up against us.”

“A whole group of them are travelling from village to village, spreading the word of their cause and trying to rally forces. They’re serious about this.”

Rhys slumped back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why now, though?”

Slowly, Azriel shook his head. “I think they’re using a whole number of reasons to justify it to themselves. They’re incensed about the land we have, the lives we live…a bunch of things. But…there have been attacks in one village. A few women have been slain. I think the Village Guards are spreading the word that they’re Fae attacks.”

“And do you believe them to be?”

“Not sure. I’d have to investigate it further.”

Rhys firmly shook his head. “I don’t want you going near those villages again for the time being. Not if they’ve got ash arrows in their arsenal.”

Azriel sat up. Tried not to wince. “The bastard had no more than two—”

“I’m not risking anything until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We wait to see what move they make next; it could all just be talk, and I’m not risking you for some human gossip. I want you here, alerting the other courts that we may have an issue on our hands. Understood?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Yes, he understood. He understood his High Lord’s order perfectly well, but he didn’t have to like it. He wanted to go back to the village, ash arrows or no ash arrows. He wanted to hear the music again, to talk to Y/N again—

“Understood, Azriel?” Rhysand repeated.

“Yes.” The shadowsinger gritted out. “Understood.”

“Good.” Just like that, Rhys was shucking off his title; sitting back and becoming a brother again. His face softened. “Go get some rest. You need it.”

Azriel stood without a word, dragging his feet from the room.

He wouldn’t disobey Rhys’s orders.

But Cauldron fucking boil him, something nagged at him to do exactly that.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

Weeks passed. And there was no dark, passing figure in the skies. No booming clap of wings.

And your disappointment at Azriel’s absence frightened you far more than his presence ever had.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn

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miraculouslycool · 7 months

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how do i know that the hunger games is a work of pure genius? because when i was young i hated peeta for being too weak, too soft, too much of a deadweight because i wasn't used to seeing male heroes like him in dystopian fiction. now with grown eyes i see how i was fooled into thinking he was any of those things, just like every single character (even the well-meaning ones) in the trilogy, except for katniss.

of course i thought he was a wuss. he was being paraded around for sport, and the image he exuded in the first book wasn't really one that would stereotypically fly in a battle arena, especially one made for entertainment. i was one of them. it was like i was just another mindless spectator in the capitol.

#the hunger games #peeta mallark #peeta my BABY BOY im so sorry i thought you were any of those things

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shigure · 10 months

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thoughts on "writing oberon"

i don't think oberon is compelled to lie about everything intrinsically. if you ask him coffee or tea he can pick one. if you ask him what color the sky is he can tell you blue. if you ask him who won the superbowl, he's not googling it just to make sure he gets it wrong.

vocabulary for this post

vortigern: abyssal worm that destroys and loathes

faerie king: who he pretends to be

oberon: both/neither, just the fastest way to refer to the unit as a thinking being/practical reality

the nature of his lies comes from his existence as a walking contradiction. the faerie king is perfectly suited to faerie britain on the surface - he's friendly and silly and popular, and he enjoys playing pranks and entertaining people. he's never experienced any major loss like murian has, and he's as loyal to his wife as aurora is to melusine. the fairie king as presented by shakespeare doesn't have anything substantial going on between his ears. || the destroyer of faerie britain has always been disgusted by every part of it. he's keenly aware of how it was made; he's the will of britain trying to kill itself rather than limping along as this colossal parody propped up by moronic culture thieves. and just like the place itself, he's being paraded about as some kind of clown - hell, a cheater to boot. he's a walking insult to his own dignity, and he will only feel peace when it's all been blown to pieces.

this of course creates his cynicism. his experiences on the surface befriending the welsh forest faeries allowed him to feel real love for parts of this place, which heightened his disgust for all of it. surely he lamented in an irreconcilable way when barghest, the monster he created, [destroyed part of britain] and killed the friends he had made. and as his perspective becomes more disjointed in a way that can be understood, it all becomes even shakier when you add in that the faerie king is inherently unreliable, frankly just insubstantial - because any strong emotions the faerie king expresses are written to be ploys and no more, the being that is oberon-vortigern cannot voice sadness or anger, lest they be taken for the faerie king's crocodile tears. forget feeling responsible and conflicted, he can't even grieve because his strongest emotions are labelled tricks as soon as he shows them.

beyond that, it's really important to remember that oberon is an actor. he describes "the faerie king" as a character many times (titania too!), but you and he are not side characters - he calls the two of you spectators, i.e. not actively serving as characters at all. when he is participating, he plays a role. when he is with you, even though he as a person is still tricking you, he's not going out of his way to act like a silly faerie king and entertain you. it might be easier to understand this if you think about what he was pretending to be for you: a PHH faerie fitting in as a lostworld faerie. he's undercover, and even though the guy you talk to is still a faerie king, he's here with a more serious mission that differs from his public face.

him being an actor is crucial for how he was summoned in the first place. vortigern is a writhing mass of hatred for what britain has become. it can't love britain. it can't belong in britain. things that don't belong in faerie britain, like holmes and nemo, are weakened there. if it's going to enter britain, it needs a body that won't hate britain. it will hire itself as an actor to play "the faerie king," and read its lines dutifully. this isn't something vortigern manifested before doing and decided upon, it's something that had to happen as a premise of the summoning itself, to allow vortigern to manifest at all. for the duration of oberon's existence, from summoning til nonexistence, he is there as an actor. that includes while he's being vortigern. look at vortigern's sprite: do you see where his bug feet and bug hand connect to his body? not clearly, no! hell, his legs actually black out so we can't see whether the pants cover insect legs or turn into props. they appear to be melded to his clothes, but those aren't gloves and shoes. they're connected to his body, but they're something as removable as an actor's prosthetic.

all that is to say, [vortigern] [is an actor playing] [oberon] is a statement without removable parts. all that can happen is shifting the order into [oberon] [is an actor playing] [vortigern]. and just like the faerie king's love for the welsh forest faeries was just lines read off a script by vortigern, vortigern's vitriolic disgust for those same faeries is just lines read off a script by oberon. if the "actor" part was optional, vortigern's body would be a hell of a lot more fucked up.

i've previously likened oberon to an experience i have when i'm discussing something i dearly love with people who also love it, but i mention something i really hate about it. for me, this happens because i get nervous, but i end up panicking and trying to reassure my friends that i really do like the thing in question. so, i end up walking away feeling dissatisfied: i either didn't properly convey my unhappiness with That One Thing, or i did a disservice in expressing how much i love the overall product. when this happens, i feel i haven't done justice to myself.

i don't think oberon has self confidence issues (though obviously he does hate himself), so he's not going through it the way i am. but it's also true that when he's talking about things that really count, nothing he says can do justice to the multifaceted emotions he has about things. furthermore, the automatic devaluing of his most emphatic statements that comes from him being the faerie king is incredibly disheartening.

his options are either be noncommittal and insubstantial, or be sarcastic and dismissive. he's black and white in one, but not grey, instead a checkerboard. he's the ultimate "and" statement. to force an opinion out of him is to pin him to one side, but since the other side isn't less true, whatever he says becomes false. if you use a command spell to make him only speak the whole truth, he will fall silent.

i think that as you spend more time with him, a lot can be better conveyed without words. i think that if you make it clear you understand and believe the part of him that despises you, you can experience the equal part of him that is impressed by and maybe even grateful to you. i don't think it's impossible to understand him, and someone who understands him and still wants him is something he considers an unattainable dream.

#popgo #i really hope this is coherent i tried to highlight some keywords and break it up appropriately #to just feel two ways at once and deride yourself for being inconsistent (the third way)#is something i feel can be understood #also i need his stupid bug pussy so bad. i'm sorry man i can't go five minutes without saying it. i'm struggling over here.

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newyorkthegoldenage · 5 months

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Captain Nemo scowls at the crowd as he passes by during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, 1929.

Photo: Associated Press

#vintage New York #1920s #Thanksgiving #vintage Thanksgiving #Captain Nemo #floats #parade #Macy's Thanksgiving Parade #spectators #vintage NYC

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todaysdocument · 3 months

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A women's military unit passes in front of President Truman and Vice President Alben Barkley during the inaugural parade.

Collection HST-PHC: Photograph CollectionSeries: Photographs Relating to the Administration, Family, and Personal Life of Harry S. Truman

This black and white photograph shows a large group of uniformed women marching down the street in Washington, D.C. before a large covered platform. Spectators are seated on the platform which displays the presidential seal. Bare trees and buildings are visible in the background.

#archivesgov #January 20 #1949 #1940s #presidential inauguration #harry truman

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mediocre-daydreams · 1 year

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲: send me a character and “opposites attract” duo (ex. grumpy x sunshine, loner x popular) for a blurb!

finnick odair (popular/shy) please! i think it'd be so sweet :)

ok so i just started typing and this emerged and i'm not sure how well this fits the request or if it makes sense but you've got me in my finnick feels and now i have this urge to write for him but bro i have so many WIPs how could u do this to me :(((((

finnick odair x reader // 1.2k

you have an odd relationship with finnick. are you acquaintances? begrudging friends? enemies just for the sake of having someone to squabble with? in any other situation, you’d want a definitive answer. but it’s the 75th hunger games, and in all honesty, you couldn’t give less of a damn about finnick odair.

you’ve only met him a few times, when the capitol invites all the victors for some frivolous celebration for anniversary of a glorified massacre. it’s horrible, you’re more than aware. but some part of you feels a little better that you get to see finnick, because as much as he is confusing and for reasons unbeknownst to you, he seems to have your back.

the parade is twice as busy this year but the capitol spectators seem thrice as enthusiastic. you silently thank your designer for prematurely accepting your death, because it means he didn’t bother to design something extravagant (by capitol standards) and embarrassing (by your standards).

“well, don’t you just look ravishing?” a male voice sounds near your ear and you feel a warm breath tickle the side of your face.

you fight the urge to grab the nearest sharp object and stab your opponent. you turn your head, slowly and intentionally, to the source of the noise and are unsurprised at who you find. “finnick?” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“surprised to see me?” finnick grins, flashing you those teeth that must’ve been capitol-modified. they aren’t, of course. finnick hates everything capitol, and that’s the only reason you let him stick around. there are no other reasons.

“um, no.” you wish you could come up with a better, wittier, cleverer, flirtier response, but there’s something about the way he smells—luxurious and a little briny and so fresh it’s almost cold, but the heat from his bare chest says otherwise… “no, i’m not surprised. i saw your reaping.”

you cringed, remembering how he’d volunteered for annie and how defeated he’d looked on that stage, standing next to his old mentor and trying to avoid eye contact with his crying ex-lover. annie had never been the same after her games. perhaps you shouldn’t have brought that up.

“i’m flattered,” finnick grins at you again, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. he’s got one elbow on a table and even though his free arm hangs loosely by his side, you feel trapped where you are. or at least you’re in no rush to get away from him.

“okay, well… that’s good?” you mumble, not sure where he gets his endless chain of banter from but wishing you could have some.

“it’s good,” finnick repeats, shaking his head in amusement. he runs his hands through golden curls, meticulously styled and sprayed to look effortlessly tousled, and you’re sure his styling team is somewhere nearby wishing death upon you for being the reason their pretty boy has (god forbid) a strand of hair out of place.

finnick calling your name with that lovely voice of his snaps you out of a daze you hadn’t realized you were in. you blink, slightly caught off guard. “sorry, what was that?”

“i said, see something you like?” finnick’s grin is more smug now, almost feline. he looks like he’s about to pounce and ruin your life with those damn eyes. or, spear you with his trident in the quarter quell. neither seem particularly appealing.

“no!” you deny. “no- i mean, that’s not what i meant-” you stammer, eyes jumping everywhere but his polished chest. had his team rubbed him down in baby oil? he was glowing, all tan skin and smooth planes and well defined ridges and-

“no, you don’t like me? i’ve gotta say, i’m a little hurt,” finnick teases. “and here i thought we had something going on.”

“gah, i didn’t mean that! i’m not ogling you, is all. ‘course i like you, as long as you’re not going to kill me on the first day,” you manage to get out.

“hey, your words, not mine.” finnick shrugs, a smirk gracing his lips. “but just for the record, i am ogling you.”

your eyes narrow in confusion.

“i mean it,” finnick continues, swallowing, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker away yours for a moment. almost like he’s nervous. “you look nice. you look really… pretty.”

it’s not a groundbreaking or particularly romantic statement, but it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen finnick around someone who isn’t mags, and that means something to you. “i think you’re pretty too, finnick.”

his confidence returns. “y’know, i’m told that quite a bit. but it means a lot more coming from you, sweetheart.”

you purse your lips. “don’t get cocky, or i’ll take it back.”

“no take backs!” finnick sighs and licks his lips thoughtfully. you’re not sure if he’s trying to entice you on purpose, but either way, you’re enticed.

the conversation is lulling and it’s really finnick’s fault. you’re not much of a conversationalist. “uh,” you begin, not sure why you opened your mouth when you had nothing to say. “um, your horse is… well groomed. and- uh, your chariot- yeah.” you want to kill yourself. you’re going to die in a few days anyway, so you might as well die before you lose all your dignity to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

finnick snorts, unattractively horse-like, and you’re only a little comforted to know he’s not as perfect as he seems. “well, i’m sure the gamemakers will be pleased to hear that the procession is up to your standards.” he turns away from you to pat the side of his horse’s face and you get a good look at his high cheekbones and impossibly sharp jawline. you hate this man.

the horse doesn’t seem to like finnick much. it flares its nostrils and finnick is forced to retreat, taking a step back and finding himself against a small table, useless and meant for decoration. atop it rests a bowl of sugar cubes, which are also useless and probably meant for decoration. you want to scoff at how dedicated the capitol is to performing false hospitality down to the last detail.

finnick turns to see what he bumped into and his eyes light up. he pinches a cube of sugar between his pointer finger and thumb and rolls it around, pretending to examine it. he returns his gaze to you. “some sugar for my sugar?”

you want to gag. finnick is so disgusting and you can’t imagine who would fall for his cheesy pick-up lines. not you, that’s for sure. “no thanks. i’m… allergic.”

“allergic to sugar? really?” finnick frowns, tossing the sugar cube in the air and catching it in his palm easily. “i’ve never met someone with a sugar allergy before.”

you shrug, caught up in your lie and grateful that finnick didn’t call you out on it. you didn’t know if you’d be able to survive the embarrassment of your verbal slip.

the sugar cube really is for show. he places it on the table with disinterest and curls his lip mischievously. “well, i suppose it doesn’t matter. you’re sweet enough to give me a cavity as it is.”

you can’t help yourself. “are you flirting with me?” your mind runs faster than your mouth, it seems, and now you’re pretty sure you’ve screwed up the chance to talk to this man ever again.

finnick looks at you oddly, raises his eyebrows, and purses his lips to hide what would probably be a stupidly smug smile. “no, with the horse.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #1.5k celebration

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aj1dordinary · 6 months

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y'know, im something of a roman empire myself actually

platonic!Johnny Cage x platonic!gen-z!reader; neutral!Kenshi Takahashi x platonic!reader; platonic!Raiden x platonic!reader; platonic!Kung Lao x platonic!reader; platonic!Lui Kang x platonic!reader

no beta reading we die like men. here’s another chapter even though i have like 3 papers due within 2 weeks.

after stepping out of the portal, your eyes catch first the palace setting. how its stone and marble material reached towards the sky and provided a sturdy foundation for your feet. there was clear signs of royalty with the hues of gold and purple that mingled with the color of natural scenery.

however, the view was interrupted when the armed guard replaced it. stern and well-postured, you straightened your back to replicate the menacing look. liu kang had educated you well enough before leaving so you could differentiate the two princesses among them.

johnny whistled, prepared to ruin the scenic moment immediately with that mouth of his. you elbowed him again, “not now” you mouthed.

“you should listen to your assistant more,” raiden said as Earthrealm’s chosen defender. “i’m sure she goes through a lot to keep you out of trouble.”

liu kang hummed in agreement before bowing before the princesses, addressing them as mileena and kitara. the rest of the group’s actions followed after the god.

as he went around, he introduced everyone. well, everyone except you, you stood farther back than the hand-selected fighters. but, your presence did not go unnoticed.

“and the girl?” mileena raised her eyebrow.

liu kang pursed his lips again before speaking, “a spectator, at the request of johnny cage. i assure you that she is of no threat.”

you inch back a little farther behind the pack as the attention seemed to have shifted to your meek form. thankfully, conversation was more focused on the battles that were to take place.

“i hope you are prepared raiden. our champions are determined to win.” kitana smirked.

“myself included, it’s been too long since Outworld has hailed victory.” mileena held her head high in confidence.

before you could also disgrace the group with your quick retorts, the conversation was interrupted by a guard, but clearly one of a higher ranker or importance. tanya, the future empress called her, declared that you all head to the capitol and without further hesitation, you all moving once more.

you made sure to be out of sight, realizing now just how out of place you really were in terms of stature and build. to keep your mind off things, you took out your phone and quietly did the job you were hired to do: vlog.

so as you guys paraded through the city, you whispered amongst the group and took shots of the Outworldian city.

“so raiden give us a little pre-game interview. how do you feel as earth realm’s champion fighter? surely, everyone is gonna want a piece of you.” you shoved the lens into his face again in true paparazzi fashion.

he flushed, you could tell the attention that he has been getting as of late was new to him, but he entertained your antics anyway.

“definitely a little nervous, but also confident. i won against three other of lui kang’s handpicked fighters so i know i have the ability.” he rubbed the back of his neck as confetti had begun raining down.

“a great insight to have raiden. i implore you to keep that same energy throughout our time here.” liu kang spoke like a proud father.

“and you kangaroo?” your low-attention span now shifted.

the nickname always seemed to catch him off guard, so with a recollected sigh, he spoke, “pleased.”

“kung fu! ken-doll! get in on all the fun! we’re being celebrated right now.” you yelled, eager to ramp up the energy within the group.

“we are being celebrated, you just happen to be here also.” kenshi brushed past you, unwilling to give you anything else. ouch. but johnny was quick to replace him, shaking his fist like an angry old man at kenshi’s insult.

kung lao and johnny matched you energy-wise as you all declared that when raiden wins the tournament, you’d order mountains of food and create content to entertain the fans back in Earthrealm.

once a little more composed, you took notice of all the different kinds of beings there were in outworld, you also took in how it felt to be celebrated. mileena seeing the curiosity in your eyes began recanting to raiden about the history of Outworld. she even mentioned about her late father.

you cut liu kang off in the middle of him performing his diplomatic duty, “i’m sorry for your loss. must be difficult.” you provide a flat smile.

“i appreciate your gesture, but you have nothing to be sorry for. not as much as this one here…” she mutters. she stops the carriage to get off and approach a figure in the distance. in the mean time, liu kang is not ignorant to the interaction between you and mileena.

“you have lost your father too.” he spoke, his tone sympathetic. you look down, the camera no longer recording. there was no escaping the conversation with the all-knowing god.

“my mother and sister too. a home-invasion gone wrong. i wasn’t home. i never was, always afraid of missing out. so i blew them off that night when they wanted to watch a movie in favor of partying with friends.”

silence hovered over the group despite the festival music still playing in the background. you made quick work of wiping your tears before apologizing again, scared of dampening the mood. johnny, who knew of your story when he hired you, just provided a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“so your humor is a cover-up, huh?” kenshi muttered.

“really, you want to do this right now?” johnny stood from his position in the carriage. kenshi also stood, making the carriage a little wobbly.

kung lao and raiden replaced his spot on either side, providing you with shoulders to lean on.

“now, now. we will not make a display of ignorance.” liu kang intercepted immediately, a stern tone taking over. “kenshi, now is not the time or place. johnny, not every altercation needs verbal and physical offense. i order you both to sit back down and let us carry on to Empress Sindel’s palace.”

and so it was. mileena returned and the parade carried on as she muttered “li mei and those damned tarkatans” under her breath.

you collected yourself at the palace and stood amongst the group discussing tactics for the fights raiden would be enduring. suddenly, silence took over before johnny pushed you behind him, “red alert. stock villain incoming.”

he spoke in reference to what you would classify as demon split the crowd. his tall stature definitely struck fear deep within you. maybe now would be a good time to start praying. liu kang introduced him as general shao. his goal clear, to antagonize and belittle the group of Earthrealmers that stood before him. the others remained tall before him, but you were kept behind them out of necessary precaution.

the princesses returned and sat on their respective thrones beside Empress Sindel. there was no pause or hesitation for further introduction. she immediately began setting the stage for which raiden would take alongside his enemies.

you begin twirling your hair out of anxiety when his first opponent was introduced. the same li mei that mileena seems to distrust. you found out soon enough in empress sindel’s “motivation” speech.

then the battles commenced. each one menacing than the last. but each time raiden came out victorious. the first part of the tournament was adjourned and true to your goal, you, raiden, kung lao, and johnny made the most of the dinner that was provided. you couldn’t help but feel giddy despite the emotions you let loose earlier. maybe the relationship between Earthrealm and Outworld wasn’t as bad as kangaroo made it seem. you watch as johnny flirted with every woman at the party, as kenshi remained unbothered, and kung lao finish plate after plate. raiden and liu and seemed deep in conversation.

that’s when the feeling returned. the one of doubt that sat deep in your stomach and extended into your throat. everyone here had a place, even in this new world. you begin picking at the remnants of food on your plate.

“i never got your name warrior.”

you look up and notice that it was princess kitana. as instructed by lui kang, you bow before her.

“no need,” she paused. “i just want to know who you are in relation to everyone.” she sat down in the empty chair next to you.

“firstly, i am no warrior, but my name is y/n. this is more of a business trip to me than one of diplomatic relations.”

“hm. a little disappointing. but, lui kang doesn’t bring just anyone to Outworld.” she swirled a glass of exotic wine before sipping.

you chuckle, once again fully aware of how out of place you were. you don’t respond though.

“have you ever fought before?” she raised an eyebrow.

“maybe when i was younger. i took ballet, gymnastics and karate, but i lost all passion for those beginning crafts when my family… i’m sorry.” you used the napkins provided to blot at your eyes.

kitana shared a look of understanding. she even placed a hand on top of yours.

“i think you should get back into it. not only is it an excellent outlet, but,” she extended the ‘u’ for emphasis and dramatization. “i’m surrounded by brutes on a daily bases and would love some feminine company. maybe i can show you something?” she leaned in, eyeing the space around you guys for anyone lurking in your conversation.

and how stupid would you be to deny the princess’ request. with stifled giggles and rushed footsteps, kitana grabbed your hand and rushed off to the palace quarters. sindel watched in amusement, she had the same harmless suspicion as a mother watching her daughter and a friend do some secret activity at a sleepover.

“i won’t go too hard on you, just show you moves you can do when someone invades your space in a manner that is distasteful.”

it only took a couple minutes for liu kang and the rest of the quartet to notice your usual cheerful and sometimes invasive presence was missing. and how lucky, you did not have to witness mileena’s moment of weakness or when general shao insulted your boys or the plans he had that had yet to be unravelled.

when you finally returned to them later that night, you were a little bruised and definitely sore, but you wouldn’t rest until you could show what you learned on a real person, someone like… a drunk johnny cage.

“how did you manage to sneak off with princess kitana?” kenshi quipped, a little dismayed that it was you of all people.

“i didn’t do anything, in fact, it was her who rizzed me up. don’t be jealous ken-doll.” you wiggled your eyebrows to piss him off further.

“well don’t leave anything to the imagination. what happened?” johnny slurred. this time, he was cosigned by a similarly drunk kung lao, leaving a blushing raiden behind.

“yeah? you wanna know?” you egged them on, leading them to their impending doom.

they nodded eagerly. “well come closer, i can’t exactly say this with so many ears leading back to the empress.” you tease.

when they approach and lean down for you to whisper into their ear, you unleashed your attack. you provide a swift uppercut to kung lao’s chin sending him flying back before he composed himself. you then quickly drop down before swinging your leg around to knock johnny off his. kung lao, the ever so competitive, charged back. this time, you used your refreshed gymnastic skills from kitana to avoid his rapid punches.

round off after round off you avoided him until you could feel your exhaustion setting in, while on your hands, you bent your knees and elbows, trying to gain enough energy to push off and drive your legs up. your heels made contact with kung lao’s chin and sent him flying back. he did not get back up, succumbing to the contact and his drunken haze.

after you sent johnny to the ground, he made no attempt to get up, his drunken state rendering him incapacitated.

you gracefully finish the round off and put both your hands in the air as if you as if you had finished an award winning gymnastics routine.

raiden clapped, clearly amused at the current state of his friends. kenshi rolled his eyes, but had a little smirk on his face. “since johnny was so adamant about you capturing everything, you should take a photo of them now.”

“omg ken-doll, that’s the best idea you have had yet!” you squeal and proceed to whip the device out to do so.

“i see that your confidence is back on the mend. i’m happy for you. i am also glad that you are no longer running from conflict.” liu kang chuckled and pat you on the back.

raiden picked up the unconscious kung lao while kenshi attended to johnny. you all then proceeded to walk to the quarters provided to you to settle in and prepare for the next day.

“i knew i had chosen right after all.” liu kang said.

“me? chosen? you flatter me kangaroo.” you smile.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

(The Next Day)

raiden stood before empress sindel, though her daughters were missing from their standard positions. she commemorated him of his past victories and how he only had two opponents who stood before him.

you were back on the sidelines with johnny, phone already recording. you were trying so hard not to yell out “Out-Worldstar”. the jokes just write themselves really.

so imagine your surprise when she announced that kitana was to be his next opponent. slyly, you and johnny slid your phones back into your pockets and just started whistling. all of a sudden interested in the plants and decorations rather than raiders impending doom.

“come on guys, you don’t have any faith in raiden?” kung lao nudged.

“it’s not that,” johnny began. “it’s that he’s definitely going to feel it after,” you finished.

“and i will win.” kitana interjected. she looked over at you, you could tell by the crinkle in her eye, she was smiling, ready to show you what it meant to really be femme fatale.

their quarrel began and liu kang had to even stop himself from giggling as you stared at kitana with a wide mouth and a hint of fear in your eyes. she could definitely hold her own in kombat. she performed aerial flips and even put her magic skills to the test against his lightening. it was miraculous even that their fight looked as if they were floating, feet only touching the ground for a moment before attacking or blocking.

despite her flare and her fans, raiden defeated her in a split second moment of weakness. but it didn’t damper how you felt about the strength she exhibited, if anything, it only fueled the fire in you to get back into your hobbies that you discussed last night. you were determined to actually earn your position within liu kang’s entourage.

she congratulated his victory and with no moment of rest, raiders next opponent was introduced: general shao.

you, johnny, kenshi, and kung lao visibly and audibly gulped. kenshi even tugged at his collar a bit to relieve pressure. it seemed as if the ground shook as he approached the ring. you heard how he made a commotion last night by insulting Earthrealmers and their inherent weakness, so you knew he would show no mercy towards raiden.

you look around at your companions, while lui kang focused intensely on the oncoming battle, everyone else was face deep in a newspaper. this caused you to tilt your head while wearing a monotonous look upon your face.

“ok, i know we are all concerned right now, but maybe the least we can do is cheer him on during his final fight.” neurons began firing as you thought of ways to encourage raiden. then it hit you.

“no.”

“ken-doll come onnnnn. you have to join in or else it won’t be authentic.” you begged, hugging his leg and refusing to get off despite his attempts to kick and remove you.

“i am not doing a pom-pom cheer for a fight.” he grit his teeth.

“come on man, its his last one. we either celebrate now or he dies without ever knowing we were there for him.” johnny wrapped his arm around kung lao and kenshi.

“we can be like the Jackson 5! raiden being michael, obviously” he continued.

“i can hear you guys.” raiden turned, almost embarrassed.

“one time?” kenshi looked down at you, who was still holding on to his leg, returning his stare with puppy dog eyes, your lips wobbling.

you nodded feverishly. he sighed knowing that you have managed to knock his ego down twice now.

“ok.”

you hopped back up excitedly and immediately got your camera ready and positions set.

the kombat was long and brutal, general shao taking every attack raiden gave him and raiden doing the same. though, you do think your plan to increase raiden’s mood distracted the general at some points, allowing raiden to get some solid hits in. you could not lie, raiden’s usual shy demeanor did not match the one before you: a calm, composed, yet deadly storm. his movements also memorized you as his flash of lightning put on a show similar to that of fireworks.

and as general shao fell to the ground, it fell silent even as the ground trembled. you cheered and even entered the ring to give him a hug with the strength of a anaconda, lifting him off the ground some.

“you did it! you singlehandedly saved Earthrealm” you bounced with misplaced excitement.

“and she calls me kangaroo.” liu kang enters as well to also congratulate his champion.

sindel arose to also congratulate him before swiftly disappearing to someplace that would remain unknown to you.

“come. let us bid our hosts farewell and return to Earthrealm.” liu kang looked pleased at the state of his entourage before leading the way.

#johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #lui kang #mk1 2023 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #platonic #reader insert #shitpost #x reader #kung lao #raiden #scorpio #kitana #mileena #sindel #bi han sub zero

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apricotg0rl · 4 months

Text

Wedding dresses and funerals 🕰️🪦📜

Tommy x reader

Genre: angst?

Word count: 540

Warnings: guns mentioned and blood as-well as a considerable age gap -forced marriage

(If there was a warning or something triggering I forgot to mention please message me so I can correct my mistake)

Side note: my small oneshot was inspired by this painting ‘signing the register’ 1920 by Edmond Blair Leighton as I feel it’s fitting once again towards the atmosphere of Tommys character and taking into the account of Mr Gold’s daughter and how arranged marriages have been a major topic of history and marriage was more a business arrangement than something to do with love.

So yeah if I got anything wrong tell me because I normally tend to not reread my writing out of embarrassment hence why the multiple incorrect grammar in the last post.

“And as I write this I scramble to find a drop of sincerity in this marriage and hope that I will find love within its contract that bind us together but deep within I mourn. Mourn for my innocence, mourn for the young girl who was promised jewels made from cut stone but here I stand with a ring stained with blood and the lives he took just to slip it on my raw fingers. “

After pondering at the scraps of paper Y/N carved into she looked around to see the presence of the monotonous man she was wedded off to.

“Will I just be another trophy for you to show off?” She asks with distain in her voice while dropping her head to the floor as she drowns in shame. “Or will I have a somewhat value to you other than being paraded around?” She knew her youth was a beneficial gain for him but the taboo circumstances circulating it left it to be unsaid leaving a lingering tension between the two and the spectators that had witnessed the ceremony. It was obvious that very little of his family agreed with the sickening idea as spiteful whispers lurked the halls of the house while she stayed locked up in her room suffocating in a ridiculous wedding dress.

“Can you just behave and come downstairs” tommy demanded while staring down the gaunt girl drowning in the white fabric that had her desperate for air as it clung tightly onto her skin.

“How can I possibly behave when I’ve been married off to a monster?!” She spat at him whilst attempting to soak up her translucent tears. Once her words reached his ears he wrinkled his nose in disgust “monster?!” He remarked at her tensed up expression and he took a glance at her following with an intense gaze at her heaving chest which resulted with a sharp pang of guilt.

“I am not to blame..it was your father who proposed the idea” he replied shaking his head in disbelief at the girls outlandish behaviour yet still acting like a child himself playing the silly game of who did it first.

Y/N’s jaw went slack at the idea of the very man who promised her own safety since her first breath selling her off to the next man who could “tame” her.

“I tried to take the responsibility but I can’t have my wife hating my very own existence and cursing the day I was born”

Y/N retched at his use of words and stood from her chair in pure disbelief that was now intertwined with venom. The assertive man stood within her eyeline and palmed the gun from his pocket and slammed it on the table infront of her looking for something other than contempt in her eyes. “If you want to take out your anger he’s downstairs with the rest of the family” he exclaimed, almost tempting her like the snake from the genesis story that had fooled Eve, as the choice of life and death rattled around her mind like a marble in a wheel.

“But if you decide to become vengeful you can no longer live on that pedestal that you look down on me from when blood is spilt on your hands” he spat as he roughly grabbed onto her shoulders trying to shake the insanity out of her that dwindled like a flickering candle flame.

“Is that what it takes to become a Shelby?”

#fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #cillian murphy x reader

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