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arigatouiris · 4 years ago

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the ghosthunter of nekoma // kenma kozume — 03

Author’s Note: This is a short series, so I’m guessing it’ll have less than 10 chapters? Or around that, at the most. Also, how did you all like the latest chapter? Do let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Ghosthunter! Kenma Kozume x Hanyou! Reader

Summary: Ever since you were born, things weren’t going your way. Being able to jump in and out of your body as a spirit might have sounded cool in theory, but in reality, you were just target practice for other spirits to take advantage of. Just when you thought you could get accustomed to living a regular life, meeting the ghosthunter of Nekoma turned your life around to a complete 360.

Warnings: unrequited love, slow burn, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, ghosts, supernatural stuff, alternate universe, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑

Kozume Kenma dreaded being a ghosthunter.

Not only did it demand that he worked extra hard, but it also gave him less time to be by himself. With volleyball actually interesting him these days, and Kuroo's constant nagging over how he barely paid attention to things with that gaming console in hand, Kenma knew that ghosthunting got in the way of several things that he was missing out on. The ability to see ghosts and spirits was passed down by the women in his family; and Kenma's mother was a ghosthunter, which meant he had to be as well.

It wasn't that he didn't have a choice, it was simply because there were phantoms out there that needed slaying. He had seen what they could do, even though he hadn't personally experienced it. He hadn't lost anyone close to him, no one close to him had been injured by a phantom or a ghost, so there was nothing that drove him to do so.

It was simply because it was Kenma's duty as part of a ghosthunting family.

And since there were such few numbers of ghosthunters, it wasn't the best thing to just give up on something that he actually considered an art. The only other ghosthunter he had met that was his age was the female manager from Karasuno, but she was all the way in Miyagi, and he was in Tokyo; there was no one he'd met in his area.

However, this was the first time he was meeting a hanyou. Kenma thought of you that morning as he was getting ready, as he wondered why your family had kept you in the dark about your status. Hanyou weren't common, and he was certain that his mother had once told him that as harmless as they were, their status of being half-phantom needed to be severed immediately. He wasn't sure why he didn't do it right away with you, since he hadn't ever met a hanyou before. He wanted to ask his mother, but having that conversation would drain him.

He was certain that you wouldn't be a problem. You didn't even know how to use your powers in the right way, and you barely knew anything at all. And as far as he saw it, the number of ghosts in and around Nekoma was only a handful. He hadn't witnessed a single phantom emerging in the time that he was there, just a few harmless ghosts that needed an exorcism.

All he knew about hanyou was that they were dangerous if a phantom was around. The difference between phantoms and ghosts were simple; the bad stories surrounding ghosts weren't about ghosts at all, but phantoms. Phantoms tricked humans by offering them something in exchange for something else. They strove to find a human vessel to incorporate so that they wouldn't have to go to the land of the dead. Balance needed to be maintained, his mother told him, and ghosthunters provided that balance.

The situation with a hanyou, however, was confusing. He knew that severing your ties with the spirit world wouldn't kill you, but he needed to learn why you were a hanyou in the first place before moving forward at all. If there was a source linked to your status as a half-phantom, then severing your ties with the spirit world would prove disastrous. He needed to understand why you were still alive especially when hanyou were supposed to have been dead.

However, that required a lot more effort than he thought it would. There were no phantoms, he believed there hardly existed any, especially in a place like Tokyo, so there was no need to worry.

What he didn't know was that sometimes ants come out from hidden corners when something sweet is exposed.

Kenma spotted you near your class speaking to your friend that used to eye Yaku-senpai funnily. Not knowing if you were entirely a threat did put him on edge, but it was alright for now. It was back at the end of his first year when he had removed his tanto, and it was now when he had seen you, which meant that things were relatively normal. The special trait about ghosthunter tantos and katanas were that they were indeed magical; they were embedded in the back of his phone and would only enlarge on his command. He had them with him at all times, which was why he had earned the assumption attached to him—Kenma is always on his phone.

When you spotted him, you waved at him, before your hand shrunk downward almost disappointed. He didn't know why you did that, but whatever it was, wasn't his problem. He turned away and headed to class, just before feeling a strange gust of wind flow in the opposite direction.

He almost gasped when he turned around and saw you had fallen down, or that your body had. Kenma's eyes widened before he instinctively tried to look for your spirit, before having no luck.

"Oh my god! (y/n)-chan!" Your friend screeched before Kenma clenched his fists and clutched his phone.

He rushed to a lone corner before checking his bag for the little piece of jade his mother had given him, in case a spirit went loose and he couldn't find it. The piece of jade would act as a GPS almost and would lead him to the area where the spirit would be. He had to act quickly because your body had drawn enough attention as it is. The piece of jade began to glow on his palm before pressing forward and Kenma instantly ran toward the direction that it led. What the hell? Why is there some disturbance now?

His eyes widened when he spotted a phantom, clutching to your spirit form, right in the middle of the basketball court of his school. Kenma was panting now, and your spirit form was being squeezed to death. He was aware that it wouldn't be enough to kill you, but if the phantom devoured you, you were done for.

It took him a second to bring out his katana, the handle of it was a bright burning red, the same blade that was passed down in his family. The scabbard of the katana was a dull brown, but the blade itself was magnificent. It had a red hue toward the sharp end of the blade, which could practically cut spirit trails with ease. The katana was useless against people, and the red hue made it apparent.

"Kenma-kun! Help!"

He didn't intend on helping you; he was here to destroy the phantom. It was grotesque and large, the biggest he had seen in his life, but it was nothing compared to the training his mother put him through every weekend. The phantom resembled a mammoth, with arms sticking out from its side, one of which was holding on to you rather tightly. Unsheathing his katana, Kenma dashed forward before attempting to slice the phantom in half, knowing that it would be enough to scatter its essence back to the spirit world. His eyes widened when it had no effect.

You screened a second later as you were being squeezed some more, which made him wonder if you could feel pain as a spirit. She's not a spirit, his mind scolded him, She's a hanyou!

A second later, he realized it was a bit too late. No spirit would be after your spirit form if your body was left unchecked. Kenma wanted to rush and check on your body first, but leaving you here would mean abandoning you.

Shit, he thought before gripping his blade tightly and rushing toward the phantom's legs. He sliced off one leg, bringing it down, before jumping in the air and stabbing it right in between its eyes. Your spirit self fell down along with the demon, and Kenma walked over to you before pulling you up. He hadn't realized until then that his heart was pounding from the excitement, but your spirit self seemed unhurt.

"Thank you—"

"Your body is in danger."

Your eyes widened before you quickly ran toward the infirmary, knowing that you would be there. Kenma followed you simply because he knew that it would be too late. He knew that the phantom he had fought was a distraction and that the real danger lay in whatever was heading toward your body in the meantime. He had failed, simply because he had made the wrong decision.

He didn't have to worry about your spirit self. He knew that the true danger lay in allowing another spirit to possess your living body.

As a ghosthunter, whose primary responsibility was to prevent a spirit from possessing a living body, Kenma knew that choosing your spirit self right then was a grave error. He paused when he saw your spirit self pause, your hands were covering your jaw now, and Kenma followed your gaze. Your body was getting up on its feet and turned to look at both of you—your spirit and Kenma, before a sad smile sat on your physical body's features.

He knew that by choosing to help your spirit, he had failed the primary teachings that were taught to a ghosthunter. While he knew that the actual spirit that had now possessed your living body merely used the bigger phantom as a distraction, the real danger lay in your spirit form now lurking in the air the way it was. If you could be pushed out of your own body that easily, Kenma knew that the only option to avoid future mishaps like these was to figure out why you were a hanyou in the first place. As much as he wanted to avoid it, now it seemed, that he no longer could.

"What the..." You sounded terrified, "What is..."

Kenma knew he blew it. But, thankfully, he knew what to do.

"I need your help," He said begrudgingly, "Meet me at building 4's terrace after school."

You turned to him with a panicked expression, "What? What about until then? My body—"

"I can help you," Kenma promised, unable to look away from your eyes, "I need you to trust me, I'm your only ally here."

Your lower lip trembled and Kenma felt strangely sad for you. You were not really at fault here, whatever had happened was because you were kept in the dark about something you had no idea about. He looked at your wrist and noticed that you were not wearing the magatama beads around your wrist.

"What happened to your magatama bracelet?"

"It broke the first time I jumped..."

It's because she didn't have a replacement magatama bracelet that she was sniffed out like that, he thought, sighing internally. He gave you a worried expression before feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder. It was Kuroo.

"She falls even without the volleyball hitting her, huh," Kuroo teasingly said, "Such a strange girl you have eyes for."

Kenma's eyes widened and he deliberately chose to avoid your gaze. You stood there, suddenly feeling the freest you've ever felt, but in the worst possible way. It felt as if you were naked, and not a soul could see you. And with Kenma avoiding your gaze the way he was, your heart was inching toward breaking.

You've never been more terrified in your life at the darkness that presented itself in one of the brightest places.

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aboveallarescuer · 5 years ago

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Dany’s appreciation (and criticism) of the Dothraki and Viserys

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

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To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

Would Dany’s return actually be good for the realm? She offers a fairly similar vision of Westeros to the Dothraki that her late husband Khal Drogo did back in season one, but for the common folk of Westeros, that would likely mean their homes and livelihood being destroyed by nomadic invaders with a penchant for violence. (x)

The problem is that Daenerys has come of age with Viserys and then the Dothraki: two parties who only ever cared about conquest. Maybe it’s too sweeping to say that conquest is always wrong. But, perhaps Daenerys needs to realize that war is rarely justified when it is just for one person’s glory. And I’m not sure that that will ever happen. (x)

Bonus from the same source linked above: Fundamentally, Daenerys has a good heart – and maybe Jon can show her the way.

Is Dany so lacking in moral conscience and critical thinking that she can't discern what's good and what's bad from the Dothraki and Viserys's influence? I would argue that the books tell a different story.

Also, fuck that person for saying that maybe Jon can show her the way (to goodness or peace or whatever). FUCK THAT PERSON.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar.

Only the birth of her dragons amidst the fire and smoke of Khal Drogo’s funeral pyre had spared Dany herself from being dragged back to Vaes Dothrak to live out the remainder of her days amongst the crones of the dosh khaleen.

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

A few bright stars lingered in the cobalt sky. Perhaps one of them is Khal Drogo, sitting on his fiery stallion in the night lands and smiling down on me.

Would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands with Khal Drogo? In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.

She dreamt of her dead brother.

Viserys looked just as he had the last time she’d seen him. His mouth was twisted in anguish, his hair was burnt, and his face was black and smoking where the molten gold had run down across his brow and cheeks and into his eyes.

“You are dead,” Dany said.

Murdered. Though his lips never moved, somehow she could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. You never mourned me, sister. It is hard to die unmourned.

“I loved you once.”

Once, he said, so bitterly it made her shudder. You were supposed to be my wife, to bear me children with silver hair and purple eyes, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. I took care of you. I taught you who you were. I fed you. I sold our mother’s crown to keep you fed.

“You hurt me. You frightened me.”

Only when you woke the dragon. I loved you. “You sold me. You betrayed me.”

No. You were the betrayer. You turned against me, against your own blood. They cheated me. Your horsey husband and his stinking savages. They were cheats and liars. They promised me a golden crown and gave me this. He touched the molten gold that was creeping down his face, and smoke rose from his finger.

“You could have had your crown,” Dany told him. “My sun-and-stars would have won it for you if only you had waited.”

I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. I was their king, their rightful king. They laughed at me.

“You should have stayed in Pentos with Magister Illyrio. Khal Drogo had to present me to the dosh khaleen, but you did not have to ride with us. That was your choice. Your mistake.”

Do you want to wake the dragon, you stupid little whore? Drogo’s khalasar was mine. I bought them from him, a hundred thousand screamers. I paid for them with your maidenhead.

“You never understood. Dothraki do not buy and sell. They give gifts and receive them. If you had waited ...”

I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon’s eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I’d had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words.

One rider, and alone. A scout. He was one who rode before the khalasar to find the game and the good green grass, and sniff out foes wherever they might hide. If he found her there, he would kill her, rape her, or enslave her. At best, he would send her back to the crones of the dosh khaleen, where good khaleesi were supposed to go when their khals had died.

ADWD Daenerys IX

Dany could hear her handmaids arguing behind her, debating who was going to win the day’s final match. Jhiqui favored the gigantic Goghor, who looked more bull than man, even to the bronze ring in his nose. Irri insisted that Belaquo Bonebreaker’s flail would prove the giant’s undoing. My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment?

ADWD Daenerys VII

Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls. “Help me wind this round myself, please. I cannot manage all these pearls by myself.”

“Have my silver saddled. I would not go to my lord husband upon the backs of bearers.”

ADWD Daenerys V

The day might come soon when she would have need of every knight. “Will they joust for me? I should like that.” Viserys had told her stories of the tourneys he had witnessed in the Seven Kingdoms, but Dany had never seen a joust herself.

“They are not ready, Your Grace. When they are, they will be pleased to demonstrate their prowess.”

Daario should be here, and my bloodriders, she thought. If there is to be a battle, the blood of my blood should be with me.

ADWD Daenerys IV

“Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

ADWD Daenerys III

“Dothraki make slaves, Ghiscari train them. And to reach Qarth, the horselords must needs drive their captives across the red waste. Hundreds would die, if not thousands … and many horses too, which is why no khal will risk it. And there is this: Qarth wants no khalasars seething round our walls. The stench of all those horses … meaning no offense, Khaleesi.”

“A horse has an honest smell. That is more than can be said of some great lords and merchant princes.”

ADWD Daenerys I

Dothraki were wise where horses were concerned, but could be utter fools about much else.

Daenerys pushed her hair back. “Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy’s Sons what it means to wake the dragon.”

“Soldiers, not warriors, if it please Your Grace. They were made for the battlefield, to stand shoulder to shoulder behind their shields with their spears thrust out before them. Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation ... not to unravel secrets or ask questions.”

“Would knights serve me any better?” [...]

“Not in this,” the old man admitted. “And Your Grace has no knights, save me. It will be years before the boys are ready.”

“Then who, if not Unsullied? Dothraki would be even worse.” Dothraki fought from horseback. Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I’d seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers’ filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned to me. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.” Viserys, would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done.

Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest.

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

ASOS Daenerys V

High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

ASOS Daenerys IV

She had made Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo her kos as well as her bloodriders, and just now she needed them more to command her Dothraki than to protect her person. Her khalasar was tiny, some thirty-odd mounted warriors, and most of them braidless boys and bentback old men. Yet they were all the horse she had, and she dared not go without them.

ASOS Daenerys III

Today she rode her silver, clad in horsehair pants and painted leather vest, a bronze medallion belt about her waist and two more crossed between her breasts. Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust.

ASOS Daenerys II

The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe. Her bloodriders would do that well enough.

And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy’s sons. They sell even their own kind. It should not have surprised her. The Dothraki did the same, when khalasar met khalasar in the sea of grass.

Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals.

She set her mouth grimly and gave her head a shake, and the bell in her braid chimed softly.

“You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser—why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?” She pointed. “Look at the walls. You can see where they’ve begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don’t. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. “Take it away,” Dany said. “The docks are no place for lady’s finery.”

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest, and a curved dagger hung from her medallion belt. Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki-fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. “I have won no victories,” she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.

Jhiqui disagreed. “You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell.”

That was Drogon’s victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair.

She chimed as she mounted her silver mare, and again with every stride [...] At least when she rode she felt as though she was getting somewhere.

Well, perhaps it was time. The people of her khalasar had welcomed the chance to recover from the ravages of the red waste, but now that they were plump and rested once again, they began to grow unruly. Dothraki were not accustomed to staying long in one place. They were a warrior people, not made for cities.

“I smell it, Khaleesi,” he called. “The poison water.” The Dothraki distrusted the sea and all that moved upon it. Water that a horse could not drink was water they wanted no part of. They will learn, Dany resolved. I braved their sea with Khal Drogo. Now they can brave mine.

ACOK Daenerys IV

Aggo put a hand on his arakh. “Khaleesi, it is said that many go into the Palace of Dust, but few come out.”

“It is said,” Jhogo agreed.

“We are blood of your blood,” said Aggo, “sworn to live and die as you do. Let us walk with you in this dark place, to keep you safe from harm.”

“Some places even a khal must walk alone,” Dany said.

The blood of the dragon must not be afraid. Dany said a quick prayer, begging the Warrior for courage and the Dothraki horse god for strength. She made herself walk forward.

ACOK Daenerys III

“A firemage, Khaleesi.”

“I want to see.”

“Then you must.” The Dothraki offered a hand down. When she took it, he pulled her up onto his horse and sat her in front of him, where she could see over the heads of the crowd. The firemage had conjured a ladder in the air, a crackling orange ladder of swirling flame that rose unsupported from the floor of the bazaar, reaching toward the high latticed roof.

Most of the spectators, she noticed, were not of the city: she saw sailors off trading ships, merchants come by caravan, dusty men out of the red waste, wandering soldiers, craftsmen, slavers. Jhogo slid one hand about her waist and leaned close. “The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives.

ACOK Daenerys II

The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer.

[...]When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

Her doubts made her shiver.

ACOK Daenerys I

“Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back. Dany ran a hand over the top of her head, feeling the new growth. Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo’s strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.

“My handmaids say there are ghosts here.”

“There are ghosts everywhere,” Ser Jorah said softly. “We carry them with us wherever we go.”

Yes, she thought. Viserys, Khal Drogo, my son Rhaego, they are with me always.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.

Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

AGOT Daenerys IX

“It was her fate, Khaleesi,” said Aggo. 

If I look back I am lost. “It was a cruel fate,” Dany said, “yet not so cruel as Mago’s will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”

The memory of their first ride was with her when she led him out into the darkness, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky. She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.

No soft blanket of grass welcomed them here, only the hard dusty ground, bare and strewn with stones. No trees stirred in the wind, and there was no stream to soothe her fears with the gentle music of water. Dany told herself that the stars would be enough. “Remember, Drogo,” she whispered. “Remember our first ride together, the day we wed. Remember the night we made Rhaego, with the khalasar all around us and your eyes on my face. Remember how cool and clean the water was in the Womb of the World. Remember, my sun-and-stars. Remember, and come back to me.”

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried.

Dany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars; he had been the shield that kept her safe. “I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”

“Khaleesi,” he pleaded, “you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.”

“Kill her and you kill your khal,” Dany said.

“This is bloodmagic,” he said. “It is forbidden.”

“I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.”

Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. “Burn it,” Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent.

AGOT Daenerys VII

Ser Jorah said the people of this country named themselves the Lhazareen, but the Dothraki called them haesh rakhi, the Lamb Men. Once Dany might have taken them for Dothraki, for they had the same copper skin and almond-shaped eyes. Now they looked alien to her, squat and flat-faced, their black hair cropped unnaturally short. They were herders of sheep and eaters of vegetables, and Khal Drogo said they belonged south of the river bend. The grass of the Dothraki sea was not meant for sheep.

“Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape.”

The warriors exchanged a baffled look.

Jorah Mormont spurred his horse closer. “Princess,” he said, “you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward.”

Across the road, the girl was still crying, her high singsong tongue strange to Dany’s ears. The first man was done with her now, and a second had taken his place.

“She is a lamb girl,” Quaro said in Dothraki. “She is nothing, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. The Lamb Men lay with sheep, it is known.”

“It is known,” her handmaid Irri echoed.

“It is known,” agreed Jhogo, astride the tall grey stallion that Drogo had given him. “If her wailing offends your ears, Khaleesi, Jhogo will bring you her tongue.” He drew his arakh.

“I will not have her harmed,” Dany said. “I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.”

“Ai, Khaleesi,” Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming.

Dany heard Jhogo shout. The rapers laughed at him. One man shouted back. Jhogo’s arakh flashed, and the man’s head went tumbling from his shoulders. Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there. She saw Aggo point across the road to where she sat upon her silver. The riders looked at her with cold black eyes. One spat. The others scattered to their mounts, muttering.

All the while the man atop the lamb girl continued to plunge in and out of her, so intent on his pleasure that he seemed unaware of what was going on around him. Ser Jorah dismounted and wrenched him off with a mailed hand. The Dothraki went sprawling in the mud, bounced up with a knife in hand, and died with Aggo’s arrow through his throat.

A mounted warrior rode up and vaulted from his saddle. He spoke to Haggo, a stream of angry Dothraki too fast for Dany to understand. The huge bloodrider gave her a heavy look before he turned to his khal. “This one is Mago, who rides in the khas of Ko Jhaqo. He says the khaleesi has taken his spoils, a daughter of the lambs who was his to mount.”

Khal Drogo’s face was still and hard, but his black eyes were curious as they went to Dany. “Tell me the truth of this, moon of my life,” he commanded in Dothraki.

Dany told him what she had done, in his own tongue so the khal would understand her better, her words simple and direct.

When she was done, Drogo was frowning. “This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.”

“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.”

Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”

Khal Drogo smiled. “See how fierce she grows!” he said. “It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho ... if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud. And you, Mago, hold your tongue and find another lamb to mount. These belong to my khaleesi.”

AGOT Daenerys VI

She had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew them from all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he would take her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.

Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door ... was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the dosh khaleen, was she looking at her future?

The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. When the wind blew, she could smell the rich scents of grass and earth. As her litter passed beneath the stolen monuments, she went from sunlight to shadow and back again. Dany swayed along, studying the faces of dead heroes and forgotten kings. She wondered if the gods of burned cities could still answer prayers. If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old ... and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman ... but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.

AGOT Daenerys V

A procession followed them out onto the godsway, the broad grassy road that ran through the heart of Vaes Dothrak, from the horse gate to the Mother of Mountains. The crones of the dosh khaleen came first, with their eunuchs and slaves. Some supported themselves with tall carved staffs as they struggled along on ancient, shaking legs, while others walked as proud as any horselord. Each of the old women had been a khaleesi once. When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no.

“He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he’s betrayed?” Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King’s Landing would pay well for her brother’s head.

“Then ... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother ... and my true king.”

“He is your brother,” Ser Jorah acknowledged.

“You do not understand, ser,” she said. “My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.” “Once,” said Ser Jorah. “No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world.”

AGOT Daenerys IV

Beyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time. Lithe young maidens danced on marble plinths, draped only in flowers, or poured air from shattered jars. Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name. Some of the statues were so lovely they took her breath away, others so misshapen and terrible that Dany could scarcely bear to look at them. Those, Ser Jorah said, had likely come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai.

“So many,” she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, “and from so many lands.”

Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”

“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”

“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue. He glanced over his shoulder at Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them, and favored them with a mocking smile. “See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men.”

Every khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal’s brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. “Blood of my blood,” Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. The ancient traditions of the horselords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal’s wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man’s mount was his own.

Daenerys was glad that Khal Drogo did not hold to those ancient ways. She should not have liked being shared. And while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah’s soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night. Even his horses seemed to fear him.

Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard. ~

“I will give my brother his gifts tonight,” she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. “He should look a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me.”

[...] While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she’d had made to her brother’s measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.

She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm.

“Look. These are for you.”

Viserys frowned suspiciously. “What is all this?”

“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

“Please ... you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought ... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki ... ” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.

“Next you’ll want to braid my hair.”

“I’d never ... ” Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. “You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. “This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.”

“I had Doreah sew it specially for you,” she told him, wounded. “These are garments fit for a khal.” “I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”

AGOT Daenerys III

“Wait here,” Dany told Ser Jorah. “Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it.”

The knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. “You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys.”

“Not a queen,” said Dany. “A khaleesi.” She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.

The descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one.

From that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.

As the riding became less an ordeal, Dany began to notice the beauties of the land around her. She rode at the head of the khalasar with Drogo and his bloodriders, so she came to each country fresh and unspoiled. Behind them the great horde might tear the earth and muddy the rivers and send up clouds of choking dust, but the fields ahead of them were always green and verdant.

By then her agony was a fading memory. She still ached after a long day’s riding, yet somehow the pain had a sweetness to it now, and each morning she came willingly to her saddle, eager to know what wonders waited for her in the lands ahead. She began to find pleasure even in her nights, and if she still cried out when Drogo took her, it was not always in pain.

At the bottom of the ridge, the grasses rose around her, tall and supple. Dany slowed to a trot and rode out onto the plain, losing herself in the green, blessedly alone. In the khalasar, she was never alone. Khal Drogo came to her only after the sun went down, but her handmaids fed her and bathed her and slept by the door of her tent, Drogo’s bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night. Dany could hear him on the top of the ridge, his voice shrill with anger as he shouted at Ser Jorah. She rode on, submerging herself deeper in the Dothraki sea.

The green swallowed her up. The air was rich with the scents of earth and grass, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and Dany’s sweat and the oil in her hair. Dothraki smells. They seemed to belong here. Dany breathed it all in, laughing. She had a sudden urge to feel the ground beneath her, to curl her toes in that thick black soil. Swinging down from her saddle, she let the silver graze while she pulled off her high boots.

“Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

“Take his horse,” Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

“He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Dany said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.”

“Wise child.” The knight smiled.

“I am no child,” she told him fiercely. Her heels pressed into the sides of her mount, rousing the silver to a gallop. Faster and faster she raced, leaving Jorah and Irri and the others far behind, the warm wind in her hair and the setting sun red on her face. By the time she reached the khalasar, it was dusk.

There is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Dany felt the eyes on her as she undressed him, heard the soft voices as she did the things that Doreah had told her to do. It was nothing to her. Was she not khaleesi? His were the only eyes that mattered, and when she mounted him she saw something there that she had never seen before. She rode him as fiercely as ever she had ridden her silver, and when the moment of his pleasure came, Khal Drogo called out her name.

AGOT Daenerys II

She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.

Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. “Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says.”

“She’s beautiful,” Dany murmured. 

“She is the pride of the khalasar,” Illyrio said. “Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the khal.”

Drogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were a child and set her on the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany sat there uncertain for a moment. No one had told her about this part. “What should I do?” she asked Illyrio.

It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”

Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

When she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.” The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany saw her new husband smile for the first time.

The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time.

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords #valyrianscrolls #a clash of kings #a game of thrones

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randomguywithwords · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks For The Assist: Chapter 2 (Itsuka X Neito Story)

AO3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2: Acceptance

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“How was the test?” Father asked as the three of them sat at the dinner table eating.

“Ok, I think I did fine,” Monoma said as he picked up a slice of meat.

“How were you graded?” Mother said.

“Fought some robots. You get points the more you destroy. The harder the robot, the more points you get. The field was massive, pretty much a life-size city, and I think they had at least 3.” Monoma explained with patience, though he suspected this expositioning was boring the other audience with information they already knew.

Mother hummed her assent. “I’m not surprised. U.A has a ton of money. More money than they need, really…” She ended her statement in a mutter. It sounded like constrained resentment to Neito. It probably was, but understandable.

“Isn’t the ministry diverting more money towards your school, dear?” Father said.

“Yes, I suppose. After years of appeals by the school committee. Hopefully I can obtain better equipment to teach those kids.” Mrs Monoma sighed, looking back towards Neito. “But I hope you get in, Neito. I have to admit, it’s really once-in-a-lifetime, and U.A will make you a fine hero.”

“Thanks, mother.” Neito smiled. A fine hero. The phrase did not apply to him, not in the societal nor linguistic sense of the word. A hero relied on himself to get the job done, at the end of the day. With what he had, that was an impossibility.

“None of the other kids gave you trouble, did they?” Father asked, and Monoma winced on the inside, thinking about the events transpiring just after the test.

“No, they were nice people,” He said. It was no lie, by technicalities. There was that girl, after all. Kendo, was it? She was nice.

Father seemed to perk up at his answer, gladdened. “That’s good,” He gave an approving nod. “I’m glad they weren’t like your schoolmates.”

Neito waved his hand like an aristocrat at a banquet. “Nah, I think maybe those guys were just ––” He struggled for the proper word. “Lame.” He ended, and grinned internally at the apt description of his dialogue. But that smile died in the next instant when he thought about what he had wanted to say.

Flat characters. A character with one dimension, owning a singular character trait to serve a purpose in a story. That’s what he called them, but not Mother.

“About time kids your age learned some maturity,” She said, her ‘teacher’ side emerging. “Not you, Neito – of course. You’re a sensible boy. Apart from your silly theatrics, but you’ll grow out of it.”

There it is, He sighed, on the inside – or, aside. That was how the plays would state inner actions on the script. But Mother doesn’t like plays, does she now?

“Neito, tell us about the fighting,�� Father interjected with a smile that was a bit too wide, “What quirks did you use?”

Neito gave a response, but his heart was no longer in the conversation, having been chilled by Mother’s own lovely warmth that she had no idea she was radiating.

–––––

The letter came a week later when his parents were at work. Neito opened it up in his room. After all, where else would he? Only in his room could he find solace. And on his bed, comfort, so he plopped himself down and opened the envelope.

The contents contained a disc. A holographic. Taking it out and laying it on his bed, he pressed the blue button in the centre, producing a video on the wall.

It was the scene of an office, with a mouse sitting on a chair and a cup of tea on the glass table. He recognised the principal of U.A himself.

“Neito Monoma! Very good afternoon, or morning, or night, to you – depending when you see this, of course. On the off chance you are unaware of me, I am Nezu, principal of U.A High. This video is approximately 5 minutes long, but I will save you the suspense. You got in. Congratulations.”

His heart soared, and he pumped a fist in the air, breathing a sigh in much-desired catharsis. Had he been holding that in since the beginning?

“You are, both celebrating – I would hope, and also wondering what the remaining 4 and a half minutes are about. Please do not ignore the rest of this video, because I want to review two things: your performance at the entrance exam, and your quirk. Take a look at this.”

The video showed clips of Monoma from a birds’ eye view, running around and using his borrowed quirks, as well as him tapping random strangers. He noted how a lot of them turned their heads in evident surprise and puzzlement at him patting them on the shoulder or arm. And then the clip played of him taking a couple of points away from those guys.

Nezu clucked his tongue. “Many in society would deem that as ‘un-hero-like’ behaviour, as it can be interpreted as stealing, or taking what does not belong to you. Criminal acts indeed, if the deed is severe and the stolen thing valuable. But, your quirk acts on that very principle of taking what does not belong to you.”

The (overwhelmingly intelligent, Monoma realised) mouse continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of reviewing your application and academics. You boast admirable grades in your middle school, and your form teacher commented that you were a highly observant, smart and mature student. I could go on, but you know what you’ve submitted. I will continue with that presumed knowledge.”

“You must have realised by now, or very early on in your career as a hero aspirant, that your quirk is unorthodox, having no use on its own. You require allies, or foes who you can lay a finger on, to fight. And even then, you must hastily adapt to whatever quirk you have under your control, for a period of time. Lots of limitations, Mr Monoma. A lot of challenges you have faced, are facing, and will face. And when you are initiated into my school, expect more.” Nezu took a sip of his tea.

“That’s not to say you will face difficulties many would describe as ‘hell’ at U.A. And neither does my previous statement imply U.A is not ‘hell’.” He paused. “Do excuse my roundabout mannerisms of speech. It is a bad habit of mine.” Nezu chuckled.

“Simply put, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr Monoma, for your cunning, your intellect, and your quirk. Report to me after your first day of school. We will talk more then. Congratulations once more. Another letter will arrive tomorrow to inform you of the minutiae regarding your inception into U.A. Good day, Neito Monoma.”

The holographic faded out, and Neito was staring at a blank wall for a few seconds trying to process whatever Nezu had said.

A buzz from his phone pulled him out of his hazy thoughts. He is...really smart.

It was from Kendo. “Hi, Monoma, It’s Kendo! The girl with big hands. Wanted to ask you whether you received the letter from U.A.”

He typed a response. “Yeah, I got a letter. What’s your verdict?”

Fingers crossed.

She responded, “I got in. >< You?”

A smile spread across his face. “Same, that’s awesome. Congratulations.”

“YAY! :D We both did it! Congrats too! And I was so shocked that All Might was in the video! I nearly cried. Or maybe I did, idk. Sorry, I’m babbling at this point, but I don’t have anyone else to tell this to until my parents get home and I’m so hypeddd”

Huh? All Might? So Nezu specifically…

He typed, “It’s ok, I’m excited too. Though I don’t express it over text that much.”

“Haha it’s ok. Can’t wait for the letter tomorrow. There’s so much to do! Hero costume, uniforms, books, all that. And term starts a month from now. Can’t wait!”

“Wow, how’d you know all this?”

“Mainly from the internet. I was that hyped, y’know?”

He cracked another smile from her enthusiasm. It was oddly contagious, and he found himself more zealous to go to school. That was a statement he’d never think he could formulate in his mind. “I see. That’s cool.”

“Btw, if you wanna go celebrate with your family or friends, go ahead! I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“Nah, my parents are at work and I’m basically alone at home. Same boat as you. So, fire away.”

“Ah, ok!”

The conversation continued with Kendo gushing about their new life, and Monoma passively followed along, inserting a few comments here and there. But he didn’t feel like he was stuck at a family reunion forced to endure his grandfather’s stories with a placating smile and affirming nods peppered in occasionally. She was actually interesting, and amusing, in a good way.

The topic was centered around school and academics, with little butting into personal lives, and Monoma didn’t pry. She was still a stranger, somewhat, albeit she would be his new schoolmate – and perhaps classmate. He crossed his fingers again, hoping that Fate would tap him lightly on the head once more with her providence.

He smiled when Kendo typed, “Hope we become classmates :D. Apparently there are always 2 first-year classes. So it’s basically a coin flip.”

“Heads.”

“Rly? Do you always choose heads?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m more of a switcher.”

“How do you decide when to choose heads or tails then?”

“Coin flip.”

“That made me laugh, thank you.”

“Why do you need to thank people for making you laugh? It’s a spontaneous thing.”

“That’s...oddly profound.”

“Or just a dumb statement made to sound fancy. Ah, sorry, I have to go now. But thank you for your time. It was great chatting :)”

“Why do you need to thank people for chatting with you? It’s a spontaneous thing. Joking aside, thank you too.”

“Nice haha” Was her last message. Neito turned his phone off and lied down on his bed. A moment passed, and Neito took a coin from his study desk. It was a silly thing to do, but his room was his stage. He was performing for himself.

He gave it a toss and caught it.

Seeing the result, he grinned.

–––––––

Yeek, this took longer than it should have, sorry. Had a bit of writer’s block when it came to planning this thing and I wasn’t sure how to move on. Also the tone of this is especially terrifying for me because it’s definitely going to be (ironically) more light-hearted, with Monoma’s dramatic language and (side thoughts) occasionally inserted, but that brings the challenge of need. When to do that, when not to. This story is a personal challenge to change my narrative style just slightly.

Anyway, I hoped you MonoKendo ppl liked it. A lot of people have told me it’s unfortunate the ship lacks content and I couldn’t agree more. But then again, that’s about 75% of the ships out there. (Fk it, 90%). So, here’s my contribution, alongside some other one-shots.

Feedback’s appreciated :D

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edda-blattfe · 4 years ago

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Twisted Wonderland Tag Game: Post Release Version

Link to game template: https://edda-blattfe.tumblr.com/post/623310756946067456/twisted-wonderland-tag-game-post-release-version

Rules: Answer the following questions, then tag 3 or more blogs to keep the game going. Have fun, and may the gotcha goblins seek favor upon you!

Tagged by @twisted-eels

~Your twisted tale begins!~

1. Y(o/u)u just woke up in a coffin trapped with this talking rat thing that swears he isn’t a tanuki. How do you actually react?

- Severly confused but relatively calm. I would likely ask said rat thing a long list of questions...you know, like where are we, why are we stuck in a coffin of all things, and how did he manage to sneak me out of the house without waking my light sleeping but up.

2. Let’s pretend for a second that you’re not at the mercy of a magic mirror and incompetent bird dad, choose which dorm you would like to be a part of. Why, and do you think the mirror would agree?

- I used to think Diasomnia, granted that was mostly because of the gothic fairy vibes the dorms aesthetic gives off, my tendency to excel in academics, and the results I typically get from dorm sorting quizzes. However, as the game reveals more info on the dorms and student’s personalities, I think the mirror would sort me into Pomefiore. The reason I usually excel in school is because I love learning and have an (admittedly pathetic) desire to impress instructors/people in charge; also have a hard time accepting failure from myself (the mere thought of failing is enough to trigger anxiety attacks, but let’s not focus on that). These traits are synonymous with the “magnanimous efforts” Pomefiore prizes above all else. Vil’s beauty expectations would be trying, but if he (or Rook) is willing to teach that would likely trigger that desire to impress them along with those other traits. This is all speculation though. 😅

3. Going back to twst reality, where you don’t have magic and get sentenced to Ramshackle; what is your first thought upon seeing this safety hazard of a building? What’s the first thing you choose to fix there?

- “You’re leaving new here...alone..with only a talking rat for protection in a world of magic....great.” Will likely go around picking up small things at first to clear up clutter, next item is the doors and windows. Hope the ghosts can help me out at least a little.

4. In an alternate reality where you don’t immediately get lumped together with Ace and Deuce, who in the school becomes your best friend(s)?

- Likely Rook, Malleus, and Jack. Rook and Malmal are both characters with specific interests who don’t really get many chances to gush about their passions, that combination tends to work out well for me, they also seem approachable despite the out of character reputations their peers keep shoving in mc’s face (seriously, I don’t see how Rook is any weirder than say Sebek or how Mal is supposed to be intimidating when doesn’t act even remotely shady) talking to them would be easier than the “normal” students. Jack is someone I can respect for his morals and honest nature, we’d definitely get along well in class.

5. Which existing club would you give a shot? Any particular reason why?

- Science club! (Not because of Rook) The science club is a mishmash of multiple disciplines that could have been made into a separate club if enough people took interest, this is an especially enticing detail as it would offer multiple fields to study.

6. Don’t be shy, we know there’s a certain someone who’s caught your eye! Who are they? How did you meet?

- Ya’ll already know it’s Rook, let’s not kid ourselves. It’s possible I met him in the science club or maybe ran into him while he was “hunting” someone and stopped to ask what he was doing.

7. Which of the events was the most exciting for you?

- Really wanted to like Fairy Gala because, fairies. But Ghost Marriage is the fav at the moment.

8. Ghosts: delightful dorm mates or unholy terrors?

- Absolute delights! Having them around the dorm would be comforting since you know them and you’ll never be left alone in this dilapidated horror scene of a dormitory.

9. Choose a champion (no further context, just pick).

- Rook. He’d offput his enemies before taking them on, an effective strategy in any scenario requiring a champion.

10. Would you rather (a) film a movie with Vil, (b) play a round of magic shift with Leona, or (c) go gargoyle sighting with Malleus?

- C! Gargoyle watching sounds like a relaxing past time.

11. Thoughts on fairies?

- AMAZING BEINGS!!!!! I wanna know more about the different sorts of fairies! Please please please give us more fairy lore tw!

12. “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” (Choose wisely now)

- Vil is pretty, don’t get me wrong, but I think Silver is the student I’d say is the most beautiful student physically. Sorry Vil.

13. Would you rather (a) keep Azul from eating fried food, (b) be responsible for dragging Idia out from his lair, (c) break a rule with Riddle standing right in front of you, or (d) tell Kalim to his face that Jamil isn’t all that great (not true).

- B, it might take a lot of effort but he’s getting out of that room one way or another.

14. You stumble upon Rook stalking another student from inside the bushes. What do you do?

- Join him of course! Ask if he’s learned anything about his current subject.

15. Which homeland (that we know of) would you like to learn more about?

- Valley of Thorns

16. Thoughts on Grimm?

- Fluffy but kind of a jerk. Really hope we don’t have to fight him in the end.

17. If you had magic, what would be your unique magic?

- Maybe some sort of illusion magic? The thought of being able to create false sensory information straight from your imagination is enticing, ngl, and could come in handy in tricking people into say leaving their room or to get their but to class.

18. Favorite ship? (oc ships are cool too)

- I...don’t have an absolute fav....wow...erm, maybe a tie between Choco x Trey and Rosid x Lilia

19. Favorite theory?

- Crowley isn’t the main villain. At this point he’s so useless we actually want him to be the villain, but imagine the anti-climatic reveal that he isn’t.

20. The school year is coming to a close, how are you feeling? Any thoughts?

- Please don’t make me go back to my parents, this place is better. Besides, who else is gonna take care of Ramshackle if I’m gone?

21. “Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” What do you wish to see from the game in future stories?

- More lore please, I’ll take anything at this point!

Tagging: @fluiditism , @tomik0 , @octavinelle-mafia , @choconanime , @terrors-of-nightraven , @the27th , @twistinghearts , @permanentlyexhaustedowl , @oiseaunoir11 , and anyone else who wants to take part in the tag game. Have fun!

#tag game

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ravenforce · 6 years ago

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Missing Link Pt 2 - Fill in The Blanks

Pairing/s: Salvatore Brothers x Reader Sister, Mikaelson Boys x Adopted Sister Reader, Rebekah Mikaelson x Reader, Katherine Pierce x Reader

Word Count: 1646

Warning/s: None

A/N: Okay guys. I can’t resist the pairing and I literally can’t choose between Rebekah and Katherine as R’s endgame. So for now, let’s leave it at that. I proof this once, if there are mistakes that escapes me I apologize. I would also like to apologize because I got lazy doing the maths for ages and years. Hope you guys still like it. xx

Part 1 Part 3

***

“What did you do to her?” Stefan said through clench teeth.

“What you didn’t do, two hundred years ago,” Elijah answered.

Being alive for three hundred years give or take, the Salvatore brothers think hardly anything can surprise them. You walking through the door of Mystic Grill two hundred years after your supposed death does though. Time seemingly stopped the moment they laid eyes on you, their only baby sister. They watched you as you comfortably chatted with Kol at the bar.

Stefan reiterated his question, “what did you do to her?”

“They saved me,” you suddenly spoke behind your brothers, eyeing them while you sip your drink.

Kol promptly sat next to Klaus while you sat between him and Rebekah. She smiled at you.

“You were dead,” Damon said seriously. Amidst being your older brother, he has always been the more playful one than Stefan but at that moment you can literally see Elijah in him.

“Did you actually see my body or just the tombstone?” you deadpanned. Both Stefan and Damon couldn’t answer. You smiled sadly at both of them.

***

Growing up at an all-boys household has its perks, mainly you’re literally the lady of the house. Your father is a very strict man who clearly favors one of your brother over the other. You, on the other hand, gets along very well with both of them. Damon, your oldest brother is protective yet fun. He used to always bring you along his hike around the manor, he allows you to run free in the woods and get yourself dirty. He carries you on his back when you get tired of walking around.

Stefan, who is only a year older than you is a little by-the-book. He always reminds you of the rules so you don’t get in trouble. He makes sure you’re presentable after you spend way too much time outside with Damon before your father comes home. He gladly read you a book or two when you’re not in the mood for the outdoors. He plays the piano with you too.

They’re both great, you love them both equally. They love you too, you know it but when both your brother fell in love with the same woman, you know it’s trouble. They started fighting more and you were powerless to intervene. Both of them too stubborn to listen to reason. You tried reasoning with Katherine too but that was useless too.

“Oh darling, you don’t have to concern yourself with your brother’s and I, we’re all adults. We will figure it out. Besides, between the two of us, you know you’re my favorite Salvatore,” she said to you once. Then you understood why your brothers are crazy for that woman; she’s beautiful, smart, confident, and a woman who knows what she wants. A trait so different from all the women in town.

When you thought the sibling rivalry between your brothers can’t get any worst, it did. In 1864, Damon willingly turned himself into a vampire for Katherine. Who in turn, converted Stefan as well. With your father dead, your brothers on the wind chasing after Katherine, you’re left alone in Mystic Falls to fend for yourself. It was fine for a couple of years, you learned to cope without them.

Until the flu swept across the land and infected you in 1869. You were sure you’re going to die at 22, and you’ll die alone. When you felt you were about to go under a voice offered you a way out. The next time you woke up, you couldn’t stand the light and a mysterious man hovering over you.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” he said. “My name is Klaus, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Klaus explained to you what happened, how you were moaning in your deathbed that you don’t wanna die. So he took mercy and turned you into a vampire. He was surprised you weren’t enraged, or scared. You’ve been turned into what most people considered a monster but you felt happy? You felt closer to your brothers than you’ve been for a while now.

***

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Stefan asked. He’s clearly sad having missed a great deal on your life.

You looked at him. “But I did, twice.”

***

Klaus was a very good creator; he took care of you, he was patient while teaching you the ropes of being an immortal, he thought you how to feed, how to hunt - animals and humans alike. Klaus gave you the choice after you acclimated to your new reality; go after your brothers or come travel with the rest of them. He was a little heartbroken when you choose to search for your brothers but he couldn’t begrudge you. You’re more than just someone he turned, he considered you as another sister.

You found them a couple of years after you turned still fighting over Katherine. You would have revealed yourself to them if they weren’t hellbent on making each other's eternal life miserable. You had to stand between your brothers' feeble war against each other when you were mortal, you decided then that you don’t want to spend the rest of your immortal life doing just that, again.

So you went back to New Orleans to find the Mikaelsons’. It was late at night when you arrived, it was Kol who opened the door for you. He heaved a great sigh when he saw you.

“Thank goodness you’re back. Rebekah is driving me nuts missing you,” he said when you stepped on the threshold.

“Who is it Kol?” Rebekah shouted from the living room. She’s reading from your favorite chair, her back turned against you. You kissed the top of her head before she can look up from her book.

“(Y/N)!” she exclaimed before tugging you down on the chair with her. You laughed. Rebekah is definitely your favorite Mikaelson; growing up in male-dominated household too, she understood you. She’s just as elated when she found out about Klaus turning you. Your relationship with Rebekah is a little more complicated than just being familial. Even the boys can see it.

“Reserve your public display of affection to your bedrooms both of you,” Elijah spoke without putting down his book. You were so wrapped up in Rebekah you didn’t see both Elijah and Klaus there.

“Yes, it’s gross,” Kol said like a true annoying brother. You know he didn’t mean it.

You turned towards Klaus, eye brows raised in challenge. “You have nothing to say about this brother?” you asked.

He laughed before sipping his scotch. “All I want is for both of you to be happy,” he said.

---

The next time you tried connecting with your brothers is after you turned a hundred. You remembered distinctively how Rebekah pouted and got mad at you when you told them you wanted to see your brothers for your vampire birth date. When you arrived at Mystic Falls, there’s no Katherine in sight but another woman who looks exactly like Katherine. From a distance you know she’s human. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, it’s very typical of your brothers to fall in love again with the same girl with the exact same face.

What you didn’t expect was Katherine lurking in the shadows as well. You managed to creep up to her while she watched your brothers from the top of the clock tower.

“Here I was wondering where you are while my brothers are fawning over a human version of you,” you said in lieu of a greeting. She turned to you and squinted her eye like she really needs to do that to get a better look at you.

“I heard from the grapevine you were turned, I didn’t want to believe it,” she said. “You look great, baby.”

‘Damn this woman is even a worst flirt than Rebekah,’ you thought.”Thank you,” you said and stood next to her to watch your brothers.

“Can you believe this two? Moving on from me with the cheap knock-off version of me?” Katherine said clearly jealous. You had to laugh. Katherine Pierce jealous is a sight to behold. You teased her and she threatened to throw you off the ledge if you breathe a word to anyone.

“I know you won’t die but it’s still going to be painful,” she said.

“Is that a way to treat your favorite Salvatore?” you asked in mock offense. She smiled at you.

“I won’t tell, if you promise not to tell them about me,” you continued.

She looked at you quizzically. “Fine, just because you’re still my favorite Salvatore. But you’ll have to tell them one day.”

“One day,” you said. You kissed Katherine’s cheeks before you stood up and head back to New Orleans.

***

“Katherine knew?” Damon asked, clearly getting frustrated.

“I knew too, obviously,” Rebekah said. Stefan groaned.

Everyone at the table knew Rebekah’s history with the Salvatore boys.

***

Taglist: @violentmommabear42

#salvatore brothers x salvatore sister #salvatore brothers x sister reader #salvatore sister reader #mikaelsons x adopted sister reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader #katherine pierce x reader #tvd imagine

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itsjustforce · 6 years ago

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He Can't Hurt You Now - Bucky Barnes One Shot

This is based off an ask I had sent to @ringpop-poppy and it ended up inspiring me enough to get me to write this awful little thing. You can find the ask here!

First fic I ever post and it's kinda poorly written soft smut. Go big or go home, right? 18+ for the smut pls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (i guess??????)

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, anxiety attacks, mentions of depression/past suicidal tendencies, mentions and reflections on PTSD triggers, smut, death by fluff, Soft Bucky™, cursing

Words: 4719

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Bri and Bucky were sitting on the couch in the common room, cuddling one another and watching a Disney movie while wrapped in her large fluffy Star Wars throw blanket. ("the fact you have not seen the absolute MAJESTY that is the rest of the Disney films they've made over the years is actually a crime, and I'm fucking SUING the people responsible. Wh-Hey! Stop laughing! I'm being serious here, dammit!")

Bucky had his arms wrapped around the slighter shorter woman, the lower half of his face pressed against the side of her head and allowing him to get a whiff of her conditioner and her vanilla perfume. While the scents were nice, having them forever be linked to this living, breathing ball of sunshine made a warm feeling blossom in his chest and a flush to grace his cheeks.

When he met her, he and Steve had taken Peter to the Captain America museum as per Tony's request. "I'm too busy, and the kid's been wanting to go. And besides, who better to go with than the man himself and his similarly elderly best friend?" He'd said, and Bucky thought if he rolled his eyes any harder they'd get stuck in the back of his head. He and Steve got in some semblance of a disguise, trying not to make themselves look suspicious while not being too obvious, which actually was a bit of an ordeal for Bucky because while it was the middle of July and New York was currently dealing with a heat wave: if he didn't wear his jacket and gloves he would be recognised and probably get kicked out or unwillingly make a scene, which was not exactly what he had on his to-do list for the day.

He first saw her at one of the larger scale exhibits in the museum, and even though he'd been there dozens of times before he'd never seen her before. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, showing off her sharp jawline and little assorted freckles, her pale green eyes sparkling as she gave the background behind said exhibit and answered any questions the guests had. She was obviously not wearing any make-up besides a warm pink tinted chapstick on her full lips (which he'd find out was a thing the hard way: he used it once and Sam spat his coffee on Steve in brief shock before bursting into a laugh that had him in a ball on the floor of the kitchen with tears in his eyes), and her excited grin at every question asked caused the corner of her eyes to crinkle, the underneath of her eyes to wrinkle, and her cheeks to dimple and Bucky swore the look alone was the equivalent of being outside in the sun, she just seemed to beam with joy and positivity.

When that group had moved on, Bucky had decided to drift away from Steve and Peter and go to the woman at the exhibit. He was intrigued. When her eyes met his, a spark lit in them and her bright smile found its way back onto her face. Her voice was silvery and kind as she greeted him, engaging in a bit of small talk with him to see where his limit of knowledge was. She was so expressive, from the shifting in her face to her hands gesturing around to accentuate or further explain her points, and even though he knew nearly everything she told him already he found himself gripping onto her every word. She made the facts seem interesting, cracking little jokes and making little comments that got him to smirk and chuckle at, and in the time he spent with her he found himself hooked.

Once or twice a week, when he could, he went to see her, spending time learning tidbits of the stuff he'd missed after the fall that Steve either didn't mention or didn't know, and also getting to know her as a person. She came from a town on the coast of the Florida Panhandle, having a little sister and divorced parents. Her great-grandmother on her mom's side immigrated to the US from Norway in 1921 and her husband was born in Sweden, but Bri wasn't sure when he'd immigrated over or met his wife. She was a bit of a history nerd, being a high school history teacher during the school year and working as a docent during the summer months. She has ADHD, depression, anxiety, and PTSD, the first three causing her to have severe insomnia. She takes medication for her ailments, but for a seemingly bright and bubbly person the fact she had depression and anxiety had surprised Bucky at first. She brought up the fact that she was fairly quiet and reserved when she was just by herself (which was something he'd witnessed himself, but didn't really think much of at the time). If he had asked, she'd tell him vague stories of her battles with her depression, of the very few times she nearly lost, of the times she was fighting tooth and nail just to get through the week, and how even during that dark time she would be found being another person's rock and shoulder to lean on.

"I tend not to let people see that side of me, because the people who know me and talk to me often see me as their own rock. They come to me because something in their life is going to shit and they need someone they know will be there for them and maybe even give them advice if they need it. Hell, I'm one of the most important people in my little sister's life. She-When my dad left for the first and second time, she fell into a really bad state of depression, and like, how could I be there to try and help her if I was openly showing I was in that same spot? I couldn't. From birth I sorta had this personality trait to just be nurturing. It's sorta second nature for me to put my feelings to the side and put everyone else's emotions and issues before my own, because everybody needs that someone who can put on a brave face and be there for them no matter what."

She'd either be listening to him talk about literally anything that could be on his mind, looking at her phone and maybe showing him some of the stuff of technology and the internet he didn't understand, sketching in a little sketchbook she keeps in her backpack, or reading a book. And with both her teaching and docent job, she would tell him that even though she got anxious and quiet around new people and also get anxious talking in front of other people, she took those jobs because history was something she adored and she wasn't going to let her fears stop her. Both were actually some things he'd come to admire about her: her strength to push through and her determination to do what she sets her mind to even if she's at a disadvantage.

It was established early on she knew who he was, she wasn't exactly trying to hide it, but she also didn't say that fact out loud. It was sort of a silent understanding, if you will.

When he'd asked her out on a date, he actually had to be coaxed to do it by Steve, who basically gave him a 20-30 minute pep talk because HOO BOY he was so nervous his metal palm was sweating. But, as time would go on, one date would turn to two, then to five, and then he asked her to be his girlfriend. Their relationship was slow, she moved at the pace he was comfortable with, and she was always making sure whatever she did he was comfortable with it.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to force yourself into situations you aren't comfortable with just to make me happy, okay? Your feelings are just as valid as mine, and I can't exactly read your mind, so please talk to me and let me know about stuff. I don't mind waiting if that means I get to keep that pretty little face around." She'd told him after he had stuttered out an admission that he still wasn't ready to kiss her yet, getting so close to it when he was dropping her off from a date. She had said it so gently, sweeping a lock of his bangs behind his ear while barely touching his skin in the process before gently running her thumb against the scruff on his right cheek and smiling softly. He gave a kiss to the knuckles of that hand instead, giving a small 'thank you' as his chest was filled with a warm feeling that made it a little bit hard to breathe.

Nearly three weeks later, he kissed her beneath a realistic display of the night sky that was projected onto the ceiling in a planetarium they were visiting. (They're both such big science and tech nerds its actually ridiculous.)

Three months pass, Bucky is now comfortable with the more basic displays of affection. Hugging, kissing, hand holding, basic little touches she'd give like cupping his cheek, tucking some loose hairs behind his ears, and nose/cheek booping (her personal favorite because it got him to either grin or giggle). But, at this time, their relationship exits its honeymoon faze and some trials began. Bri very slowly began to withdraw into herself, many of her smiles would eventually not be able to reach her eyes like they used to, she would more often than not be forced to take a nap by her concerned puppy of a boyfriend because she wouldn't be able to sleep well at night: which showed in the dark rings around her eyes, said eyes losing their sparkle and becoming seemingly dull and lifeless, her strained and tired smile, and her increased tendency to zone out or get distracted EVEN on her ADHD medication. He made sure she was taking her medications like she was supposed to, listened whenever she decided to tell him a bit of the turmoil going on inside her, was there with her when she booked an appointment to the same therapist Bucky was going to and went with her to said appointments to make sure she knew he cared for her and that he was always going to be there for her (which actually caused her to tear up a bit when he'd told her that face to face). She got better, and another month later here they are, binge watching every single Disney animated movie because Bucky not having already seen them is "absolute sacrilege" in her eyes.

Bucky got to cuddle with his best girl, her resting on his firm chest while she sits in a space Bucky'd made for her between his legs. He wanted to hold her. He can hear her softly sing along to the songs she remembers, and use her excessive body heat to stay all warm and cozy. He wasn't exactly in a position to complain.

The sound of something vibrating catches her attention, her rolling over and grabbing her phone from the bedside table and looking at the screen. He didn't much mind it at first, but when she tensed up and gave a small "shit" under her breath he looked at her.

"What's up?" He asks, pausing the movie and turning to her. She sets her phone down and turns to him with a small smile and a "it's nothing" before reaching for the remote. He seems unimpressed as he moves it to have it just out of her reach, her looking to him with an unimpressed look. He has an eyebrow raised both expectantly and as a silent question, to which she only sighs in defeat and tilts her head down onto his chest.

"Look, it's nothing. It's just that my dad's come to New York for business and he wants to see me." She says, feeling him tense against her.

"Seriously?" He asks quietly, her tilting her head to see him looking at her with anger.

"Yeah." She replies, placing a hand on his stomach to rub her fingers in soothing circles.

"You aren't thinking of seeing him, are you?" He asks, her sighing and sitting up for him to follow.

"I dunno, Buck. I mean, maybe?" She says, running a hand through her dark brown hair.

"Bri, do you not remember the last time you saw him?" He asks, Bri looking at him with a defensive yet vulnerable look in her eye. One day while she was working as a docent her father and his new family came to visit the museum. Sam had been there watching her on Bucky's orders, him having been on a mission that was set to come in later that night and apparently people already were threatening on hurting her, and after they talked for a bit they said their goodbyes and moved on. But, as the two hugged, she seemed to freeze, and as the family moved on she had to go off to the side and proceeded to have a panic attack. It took a coworker AND Sam to calm her down, and she was sent home with Sam to wait for Bucky.

To say Bucky was angry at the story, and the backstory, was an understatement. He was furious.

"I know, Buck! I just-"

"No, no. He's toxic, sweetheart. He treated you like shit doll, and as long as your my girl I'm gonna look out for ya." He turns her head so she looks at him. Suddenly, a thought enters his mind, and his eyebrows furrow in thought.

"You know I love you, right?" He asks softly, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah." She murmurs.

"So I want you to be honest with me here. Is he the reason you don't want me callin' you baby?" He asks, her hesitating before she looks down and nods.

"And," she looks at him, confused there's an addition. "Is he the reason you refuse to call me James, even though I've told you that you can."

She waits a long moment, before she sighs heavily, nods, and mutters, "His name is James, so I've kinda just... avoided the name entirely just because of the bad memories it has with it."

"Alright, then y'know what?" He says, her looking to him confused. He pulls her onto his lap with her giving a surprised yelp, having her straddle him as he cups her cheeks.

"How about you 'n' I make it have some better mem'ries?" He asks, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"What uh, what exactly did you have in mind?" She asks, Bucky giving her a smirk. He takes her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to rest on her hips. She takes a gentle hold of his cheeks, letting out a satisfied exhale as the tension in her body seems to diminish somewhat. He breaks away to place kisses along her jaw before stopping at her ear.

"Well, I was thinking I'd take care've ya. Maybe have you sayin' my name as I run ya a bath, maybe have ya moanin' it as I eat that pretty lil' pussy've yours, but I'd definitely have you screamin' it as I fuck into ya nice and slow." He takes her earlobe between his teeth, a gasp accompanying the shiver that shakes her body. He lets it go, moving up to hoarsely add, "All ya gotta do is say my name, and I'm all yours doll."

She tightens the grip on his cheeks, moves his head back, and hungrily takes his lips in a kiss. He lets out a surprised noise at the force before completely caving in, kissing her back with the same intensity and fervor. He moves his hands to her ass, and just as he runs his tongue along her bottom lip he gives both a squeeze as a distraction to move her to his half-hard length. She lets out a small gasp at the feeling of him being so close yet so far, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth. He meets her with soft, languid strokes, a sense of calm replacing the more usual heated urgency, and she gave a pleased moan to the action. He broke the kiss, his head ducking to her neck to kiss at the spots that send all of her nerves into a tizzy.

"Gonna treat you so good, sweetheart." He husks out, kissing, nipping, and licking at the spot near her ear and above her jaw. She squirms at the feeling of his lips and stubble tickling the area, her letting out a mix of a giggle and a whine when she can't seem to wiggle free. A warning nip at the middle part of her neck and a squeeze of her hips gets her to stop, her resolve and worries seeming to crumble away like a sandcastle hit by a wave. She lets out an airy moan in response, one of her hands going to card through his shoulder-length locks while the other goes to the junction between his neck and his shoulder. He nips and suckles at the spots on her neck, drinking up every little noise she made to meet it with an encouraging purr.

"God, Buck." She breathes out, biting her bottom lip.

"James, sweetheart. Call me James from now on. Not only gonna make the name better for ya, I'm gon' show everyone how special you are t'me in the process." He murmurs back, kissing the prominence of her collarbones while rubbing on her thighs.

"Feel good?" He asks, slowly running his thumbs up her inner thigh.

"Oh God yeah. Fuck, don't stop." She purrs, him kissing his way back up her neck.

"Who's making you feel this good, huh?" He asks, moving his head up to look at her through long lashes.

"I-You?" She asks, the infliction adding a questioning tone.

"What's m'name, doll?" He chides, almost tutting at her. Her cheeks blush as she looks down, biting her bottom lip.

"Y-You, James." She murmurs, Bucky grinning widely at her.

"And don't you fuckin' forget it." He growls before kissing her deeply. She runs her fingers through his hair, tugging on it from time to time for him to let out a moan. He runs his hands under the hem of her black t-shirt, for a band called 'Ghost Town', and it takes her a moment to break away and tug it off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Bucky couldn't help but run his thumbs on the hot flesh of the underneath of her breasts.

"You're so pretty, doll. Not only on the inside, but you're gorgeous on the outside, even with these lil' scars've yours. God, I dunno why your dad would even wanna hurt such a sweet lil' rarity like you." He coos, pressing wet kisses to her slowly flushing chest.

"James." She whines impatiently, gently tugging on his hair as the other tugs at his t-shirt. A warm arousal spreads through him at the way she says his name, him grinning wide before he takes her lips in a searing kiss. He places his right arm around her lower back, flipping the two of them over so she lays on her back. He holds himself up with his left arm, the vibranium glinting in the low lamp light as he sits up, removes the arm from under her, and tugs off his shirt to throw it somewhere. Leaning back over her, he watches with amusement as the fingers on her left hand gently trac the gold lines in the dark metal, following them up to the scarred seam of the metal and his shoulder. She rubs gentle little circles into it, getting a pleased whimper from him while he bites his lip. She moves her hand to then place it on the back of his neck, her other hand cupping his cheek while she looks at his face with eyes full of admiration.

"Beautiful." She whispers, her tone soft and sweet as her thumb rubs his cheekbone. He leans in and kisses her again, this time being hot and heavy and brimming with passion. His right hand caresses her body, running over every line and curve with a gentle touch that sends shivers through her. He breaks away to return to her neck, singing sweet praises about her and his love for her as he goes, until he reaches her breasts. He gives each of them equal attention, her mewls, moans, and whimpers sending blood straight to his cock and leaving him achingly hard when he reaches her cotton sheep shorts. He rests on his heels as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both the shorts and her cotton underwear, looking up at her for permission to get an enthusiastic nod. Tugging them off and tossing them away, he pulls one of her lips to the side to see the start of her slick beginning to coat her folds.

"God, look at you." He purrs in admiration, wetting his thumb in her slick before going to her entrance and pushing in to the first knuckle.

"Please don't tease." She begs, Bucky huffing in amusement as he removes his thumb and places her legs on his shoulders.

"Just wantin' to get right to the point, huh?" He asks, locking eyes with her as he spreads her open and places a kitten lick to her clit. She jumps, letting out a gasp as her eyes widen and her hands dart to fist up her sheets.

"I can do that." He grins, and he dives in, pulling her apart and taking her like a man starved. His every groan is met with a breathy noise from her, ranging from a squeak to a moan to even his own name, her hands clutching his hair like he was the one thing keeping her on the ground. He takes as much time as he can stand, opening her and preparing her for his cock while whispering praises to her and writing love letters on the sensitive nerves of her clit. She comes undone with a loud moan, her shaking thighs trapping his head in place as he rides her through her high and laps up as much of her release as he can. He then takes of his sweatpants and his boxers, grabbing a condom from one of the drawers in her bedside table. Sliding it on, he props himself up over her body to meet her lips with them and his chin covered in her juices. He wipes her slick from his face, quickly licking it off his hand before he kisses her and rubs his cock along her folds to get slicked up, her moaning at the action and the taste of herself. One of her hands pulls him off of her while the other takes hold of his hard member. He lets out a shaky breath, his head falling to her left shoulder while his thigh muscles begin quivering in anticipation.

"Need you in me bad." She pants, lining him up with her entrance while finger combing his hair. He nods and begins pushing in, the two of them letting out moans as he restrains himself from slamming into her.

"So tight, sweetheart, shit you're so good to me, huggin' my cock so nice." He groans out, her responding with a pleased sigh as he finally slides home. He pauses, making to get a grip back on himself and trying to catch his breath. He looks at her face to find her eyes are closed and her mouth is open to let out her gasping breaths. His right hand cups her cheek, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone and causing her eyes to open.

"Always look so pretty around my cock, skin all flushed with y'lips all red and that smart lil' mouth opened up. Lookin' so sinful for me and I can't believe it's all mine." He coos, Bri biting her lip.

"James, c'mon." She whines with a small pout, Bucky chuckling at the look as he begins moving. He moves soft and slow, taking care to make sure he doesn't hurt her while pressing wet kisses to every reachable piece of her. He praises her up and down, leaving absolutely nothing about her out of the equation while giving her scars some extra attention. She's a squirming noisy mess beneath him, running her hands through his hair as he makes love to her. When he begins to speed up in order to catch his orgasm, his flesh hand goes to her sensitive clit while the metal one maps her body even though he knows it like the back of his hand. He never stops the praise, doting on how she feels around him and how well she always takes him. He places his sweaty forehead to her own, their panting breaths intermingling as his long hair tickles her cheeks.

"Sweetheart, I'm-shit-I'm not gonna last much longer." He grunts out, her nodding.

"I'm right with ya, hon. Fuck! I-uh, shit, just let go if y'need to." She responds, his amusement at her cursings shadowed by the feeling of the tightening coil at the bottom of his stomach. He picks up the pace on the stimulation of her clit as his hips begin to slow, the action causing her to gasp and arch her back. As his hips begin to stutter, the keening cry of his name as Bri's coil snaps and her muscles sieze tightly sends him over the edge, his grunting her name as he spills into the condom. He rides the both of them from their high before collapsing on top of her, his heavy body pressing her to the mattress as they catch their breaths.

"James, you're-you're gonna... crush me." She says between breaths, Bucky lifting himself up to look at her with narrowed eyes.

"You callin' me fat, doll?" He jokes, Bri letting out a breathless chuckle that gets him chuckling too.

"I mean, you said it." She responds, him swatting at her causing her to loudly laugh. He pulls out of her, the both of them shivering at the loss before he moves to dispose of the condom. He tosses it, going to the bathroom to clean himself up and grab something to clean Bri to find she's up, wearing his t-shirt and her panties, and entering in the bathroom to do her own business in cleaning herself up. They return to the bed hand in hand, Bucky finding his sweatpants and boxers to pull them on. She's already on the bed under the Star Wars throw, remote in hand as she wakes the TV and goes to restart the movie where they left off. He slides underneath the blanket to lay beside her, pulling her to his side and hugging her waist.

"Movie fuckin' shut off. Was just gettin' to my favorite part too." She grumbles, Bucky chuckling as he nuzzles into her neck.

"You said this entire movie was your favorite." He responds, Bri giving a short huff of air.

"I mean, I'm not wrong, my middle name is a reference to the little white kitten Marie. Even with that said, The Aristocats is a masterpiece, and it really doesn't get enough credit." She retorts, starting the movie again to look at Bucky. She finds him looking at her lovingly through droopy, tired eyes, a lazy smile resting on his face.

"What?" She asks softly, brushing some of his slightly sweaty hair from his face with a soft smile.

"I love you, jus' want ya to know that." He says tiredly, her smile turning into a goofy fullblown grin.

"I love you too, James. Ya dumb goof." She replies softly, booping his nose and causing him to giggle.

"But I'm your dumb goof." He coos, Bri snickering as she nods and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"All mine."

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes smut #Force writes Fanfics

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enbyleighlines · 7 years ago

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Favorite Female Characters Meme

I was tagged by @pyropelove413

Rules: list ten of your favorite female characters from different fandoms, then tag ten people!

1. Terezi Pyrope from Homestuck

I have so much love for this dragon lawyer lady. I developed depression around the same time as she did, on the meteor, and her experience was a huge source of comfort for me. Plus, I just enjoy seeing a girl character who is shown as smart and confident and deeply flawed, but still a hero, rather than a villain or plucky love interest.

2. Midna from Legend of Zelda

I very much adore her for similar reasons. I just really like girls with shit-eating grins, fuzzy codes of ethics, and sharp tongues, I suppose. Plus, I love how Midna went from being chiefly concerned with her own kingdom, to being terribly emotionally attached to Zelda and Link. Midna is the embodiment of that meme: “You have befriended X. X will now die for you.”

3. Hiroko Katsuki from Yuri!!! On Ice

Hiroko wins the award for best anime mother, hands down. She is such a bright, cheerful woman, but my favorite thing about her is how strongly she supports her son. I also love that, when a decorated five gold medalist shows up at her inn, she immediately starts calling him by the cutesy nickname Vicchan. For her, it doesn’t matter that Viktor is the most famous male ice skater in the world. His name is Vicchan now.

4. Ange from Princess Principal

Also called “Princess” by everyone in the show, Ange is a spectacular character who has had it hard since day one. Born in poverty, and then inexplicably being mistaken for the true princess, Ange has to teach herself to read, write, play the piano, along with many, many other skills a royal is expected to have. At first it was just out of neccesity, but later Ange does it because she wants to fix the broken kingdom. Ange’s brilliance and work ethic are only half of her greatness, though. Ange is perpetually kinder and more compassionate than all the other characters, making her the heart as well as the brains of the group.

5. Pearl from Steven Universe

Deeply and hilariously flawed, I can emphasize a lot with Pearl. Her need to be in control, her pride, and her air of superiority are all traits that are generally demonized in female characters. But while Pearl is prone to doing some pretty bad stuff, she never stops being relatable or lovable. I always want the best for her, and I love watching her grow and learn to deal with her grief in healthier ways.

6. Sakura from Fire Emblem: Fates

I know it’s bad to pick favorites, but Sakura is my favorite of all of Corrin’s nine siblings. Not only is she a powerhouse after her class upgrade, she is a sweet, compassionate girl who struggles with social anxiety. It is always so rewarding to see her stepping out of her shell. Her support conversations are always a delight to read, and honestly, I hardly ever go into battle without her. (Also I paired her with Kaden, and her relationship to her daughter Selkie is absolutely too adorable.)

7. Rachel Amber from Life is Strange: Before the Storm

Honestly, I could put any female character from this game on this list. Kate, Max, Chloe, Steph, even Victoria... they are all precious to me. But Rachel is a special girl. She reminds me of a friend I used to have. Rachel is chaos incarnate, always restless, always striving for her best, always longing for adventure. There is something deeply human in Rachel’s insatiable need for something, anything, beyond the ordinary and familiar. She is the type of girl you can love from afar, but who will never belong to any one place or person, and so you have to appreciate every second she allows you entrance to her heart. I’m so excited to see where her story goes.

8. Valencia Maria Perez from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

I’ve definitely ranted about this lovely lady before, but I will happily do so again. Valencia is first portrayed as the mean girl, the Regina George of the show. She is cold and self-centered, humorless and deeply distrustful of other women. However, the show makes it impossible for the viewer to hate her — Valencia is just too sympathetic. You can’t help but feel for her, when Rebecca tries repeatedly (and eventually succeeds) to steal her boyfriend from her. Even after Rebecca repeatedly sabetages her life, Valencia keeps returning to Rebecca, and even helps Rebecca plan her wedding to her own ex-boyfriend.

9. Joan Watson from Elementary

I absolutely love this show for many, many reasons, and Joan is at least three of those. Like most Watson’s, she is meant to be the heart to Sherlock’s brains. And Joan is definitely that: she is shown doing charity work, especially with people who are homeless and/or suffering from mental illness and/or drug abuse. But just because Joan is a kind character doesn’t mean she isn’t smart. Her brilliance is second only to Sherlock’s, and that’s probably only due to the fact that he’s been a detective longer than her. Joan is wonderfully written, a character that you can always rely on to be the voice of reason. She is Sherlock’s most treasured person in the world for a reason.

10. Peggy Carter from the Marvel Universe

Peggy deserves more than she got. She really was the best written female character in any Marvel movie. Her tenacity, wit, and dedication to justice made her my favorite superhero, even though she didn’t even have any special powers. Even with her flaws, Peggy never stopped being lovable. She was the best thing to happen to the Marvel universe, and I will never stop being bitter over the Agent Carter tv series being cancelled.

Thank you Rez for tagging me! That was fun

I tag @kiwisoap @abstracttheworld @quillyfied @amateur-autist @zv3 @jeremytheblack @gamzeeshumanbonebulge @katolilly @glocktor @thingsandstuffbutmostlystuff

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darkness-writes-stuff · 7 years ago

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A Knights END

Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys! I know you're all usually used to hearing me babble and go off my freakin' brain chair but I put this in the beginning as a sort of heads up. This is pretty much AU (if it wasn't obvious) and it's a different take on Chapter 538 (I think) So anything that happens in that chapter and afterwards isn't going to match (again... obvious but just as a safe measure in case anyone wasn't sure). Anywho, thank you for your time! I'll see you on the bottom of the page :3

It was over. The battle between Fairy Tail, no, all of Fiore against the Alvarez Empire in which Zeref and his Spriggan 12 came for Fairy Heart in an attempt to eliminate Acnologia and to fulfill his own agenda. It was a long and tough fight, spanning who knows how long just to get this point. Tired and beaten, the scarlet warrior, reunited with her old companion, Jellal, along with the rest of Blue Pegasus began to make their way back to the guild, knowing that they could finally come to ease. They had suffered a lot of lives. The guild leader of Blue Pegasus alongside Anna, had sent Acnologia into the Ravines of Time, where the collision of time will handle and deal with the 'King of Dragons'.

"You're excited to see him, aren't you?" passing a smirk, the blue-haired mage sent to his friend, as the two of them helped one another to walk back towards the guild, "Can't say I'm not jealous"

She could tell that he was slightly mocking her, "Excitement wouldn't be the right word" correcting him, "Just,... I would be relieved to see him, knowing that he's all right of course" attempting to put up a front.

"Honesty was never your best trait" joking, earning him a slight kick in the shin to teach him to be quiet.

Yes. The last time she had saw the dragonslayer was right after the Master had taken his own life to protect his children. Covered in hellish flames as if something had possessed over him; she could still feel the burns in her hand that she used to stop him and Gray from fighting. Something about him then was different, and when Lucy and the rest came to them to aid, she recalled the look on Happy's face. If anyone knew what had happened there, it was the little exceed; the only other person Natsu could rely on.

"Erza, Look!" Jellal said, calling out to his friend, catching her attention, "I can see the guild coming close"

Her heart beating fast, her gaze shot up to see what had lied before her. In the distance, she could see the words 'Fairy Tail' beaten and worn on the top of the guild. She knew that that was where the final battle had taken place, between Zeref and the remainder of Team Natsu. Just there, within her grasp was the person she had wanted to see. She was close and she could feel it, the warming smile he'd give, the jokes he'd make about being terrified of her.

"Erza" snapping out of her thoughts, she looked up to the mage beside her. Smiling soft and sincere, "Go, I'll be all right"

Shocked, she had wanted to take his word and rush ahead, "J-Jellal... are you sure?" questioning what he had said. Although, instead of a vocal reply, he simply nodded, "...Thank you...!"

Before letting him go completely, she had made sure someone else was there to help him keep up before running on her own. Her body was still sore and beaten from the fight against her mother, and earlier from fights with the other Spriggan 12. She would be lying to herself if she was fine, and that the pain that was radiating throughout her body was nothing. But, as always she had wanted to make sure that the pink-haired dragonslayer was still all right and breathing. He was reckless. Stupid. Even if he had told everyone that the real win they were to receive was that everyone would make it out alive, something just didn't sit right with her, she didn't want to just believe that a battle with Zeref, the Dark Wizard, could go without any consequence. That was what she believed.

-[x]-

After a short distance of pushing herself, eventually she had seen the blurry images of three people sitting around. Everything was still at a loss, but there was still a matter of her making sure that all of them were there. Counting, she saw three people and one cat, lifting her feelings up. Through the hardest of battles and moments of loss, it felt like an eternity since they were together.

"Natsu! Gray,...Lucy!" calling out to her teammates she was relieved to see them doing well. Just as she was about to run out of breath, she had made it to her team, feeling assured that they were all well, "You're all... well" happy, smiling, she was able to catch her breath.

Standing there, "Well... more or less I suppose" she could hear the happiness in his voice as he replied. Looking closely, she noticed that Natsu's arm was burnt and bloodied. His body was covered in burnt over gashes, and looked like he could hardly stand, "Big bro... didn't really go easy on me..." chuckling a little.

"Big... bro...?" trying to understand what he was talking about, she was still concerned with how his arm and how he was able to stand, "But... your arm!" rushing over to him, she had wanted to punch him for letting himself get to this point, but even she knew that if she had he could get sent into a worse condition, "Are you..."

Assuring her with a smile, he simply sheepishly grinned, "I'll be all right" telling her, stumbling slightly as he made his way to her, "I just... kind of want to rest right now" exhausted, presumably spending all his energy standing there, he fell forward.

"Natsu!" worried, she made herself ready to catch him. As he did, she motioned him over to where Lucy and Gray were sitting to rest with them, letting the dragonslayer catch his breath. She stood there, holding him against her, "You've really... gotten strong" smiling at him, "Igneel... would have been proud of you" she had wanted to say she was as well, but, she felt that her actions proved it already.

Then, something strange had happened. He had slowly pushed her away, and as she looked around him his body was beginning to glow. "It looks like... Big bro is finally able to sleep..." hearing him talk. Around him, looking at her friends, she could see the look of horror in their eyes. No, it wasn't horror. It was devastation. "Erza..." looking at her, using his one hand to keep himself up, "I really did... get strong didn't I?" recalling the words she had just spoke to him. Pressing his lips onto hers just briefly before parting the two.

"Nat...su?" she didn't know what was going on. Lucy was tearing up, Happy was struggling to contain his fears, and even Gray was trying to control himself, "What's..."

He had undone the scarf around his next, losing its light, as he gently placed it around her neck; wrapping it so it looked like how he would wear it only on her. She didn't understand what was going on, but the sinking feeling in her chest gave her an idea. She didn't understand how or why, but somehow Zeref's end was linked to Natsu. What made it worse, was that he was smiling through out it all.

"The First Master, is also likely gone as well,..." telling her, "But,... she, even with the Old Man, wouldn't want us to be sad, remember?" he kept his hand on her shoulder, "We're Fairy Tail, and no matter what,... we're always looking after another"

The light had grown brighter, enveloping his own body as parts of him began to vanish bit by bit. With the last grin of his, she made out to the fact he had the back of his left hand facing her, and both his index and thumb sticking out. Not too long after, everything about him vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but the scarf around her neck behind. Her heart took a dive as she tried to process everything that had happened, falling to her knees. She heard Lucy breaking into tears, followed by Happy, and then Gray. But her? Everything took her by shock, making it difficult for her to express anything.

Touching the scarf around her neck, she wanted to confirm with her own senses that it was all real, but doing so would mean that she had to accept what had happened just in front of her. "What... happened?" saying aloud. She knew that everyone around her knew what happened, so she wanted answers. Turning to face them, "What happened? Where'd he..." the more she questioned, the more she accepted the reality.

"...Natsu's... he's..." Happy tried to say, fighting the fact he was crying, "He's..."

Stepping forward, Erza got wind of Gray willing to stand in, "Natsu... was E.N.D." telling her, despite how struck with grief he was, "He was Zeref's ultimate demon! The demon that Tartaros based their guild on...!" gripping tight to hold back his own emotions. The words he spoke shot her with with revelation as she recalled back to when the two of them were fighting, "When Zeref dies... everything he created,... all the books of demons he made goes along with him... Especially the 'Book of E.N.D.'" informing her.

"That... can't be" the bright shining dragonslayer, the one she knew growing up was a demon of Zeref's, and especially his strongest creation. "Then..." flashes of her memories began to play back in her head of all the moments they shared. When he was happy, sad, angry. She recalled the moment he was stupid enough to pretend to be her so that he'd go to prison instead of her, or the time he saved her from having to be sacrificed when she first reunited with Jellal. "Why... didn't he say anything? We could have..." the more she thought of her time spent with him, the harder it was to accept it.

No one wanted to answer, because everyone else knew, "Because we didn't want to believe it either..." she heard Lucy speak, "Even knowing he was E.N.D.,... he was determined to defeat Zeref..."

Soon, it was hard for her to even stifle her own pain. In such a short time she had lost so many people close to her. The Master who was like a real parent to her, who sacrificed his life to make a dent in the Empire's Army. Her mother, whom she had found working on Zeref's side, and although she had her twisted ambitions, she went admitting her love for her child, the same child she had tried to take over. Now, the one person she had looked forward to seeing had vanished in front of her, leaving only the scarf around her neck as a reminder.

"Erza!" a voice called out to her. It was Jellal. He had finally caught up to the Titania alongside the rest of Blue Pegasus, "I finally caught up-... where's..." soon, he too realized that something was off.

Second by second, everything began to flood her mind until finally she broke. Clutching herself, she felt her heart ache, slowly breaking piece by piece as she vented. Tears fell to the ground as anguish filled the empty space.

-[x]-

A few days had passed since the end of the Alvarez war, and everything was still in progress of getting things back together. Their guild was wrecked and almost torn to pieces after they had just rebuilt it for the third or fourth time but progress was being made to patch it back up. Soon, the news of the Master's passing as well as Natsu's reached everyone in Fiore. All of their allies, their old foes, came to mourn the loss of Makarov, Mavis, Anna, Ichiya, and Natsu, as well as everyone who lost their lives protecting their world. She had spent the last few days allowing herself to grieve. Clutching the scarf he left her in her hand, she looked over the grave they had made for Natsu. They had done this after visiting Makarov's grave island on Tenroujima Island, where all the master's of Fairy Tail were laid to rest.

"Who would have thought... winning the war came with an unexpected catch" she heard Macao talk to Wakaba.

More people spoke about how they couldn't believe that one of their own was in fact a demon of Zeref's, but Lucy had explained to them that within the Book of E.N.D. it talked about Natsu's life and beginning. How he passed away in a fire and that Zeref spent his entire life bringing his little brother back as an Etherious. The stories lined up with what Anna told them, when she conspired with Zeref to bring the dragonslayer children 400 years into the future so that they wouldn't become dragons by overusing their power.

"What are you going to do now?" Jellal asked her, standing in wait of his friend taking her time, "Will you take the mantle of Fairy Tail's master?" asking her.

Shaking her head, "No,... Laxus has graciously taken that position from me" informing him, "Saying that he wishes to continue the kind of feeling his grandfather kept around the guild"

"Funny, considering you once mentioned he tried to forcefully take it to make Fairy Tail a pure elite guild" reminding her of the battle Laxus inflicted to take control over, "Then again,... I almost took over the world to bring Zeref back.

Both he and Laxus were once people who cared to only pursue the goals that interested themselves and didn't think of the consequences of others. They were both fierce battles that risked the fate of everyone around them, and yet, every time such a challenge appeared, the same dragonslayer was around to push away their ideology.

Looking at the scarf in her hand, she wrapped it around her neck just as Natsu had done before he disappeared. "Happy" gently calling out to the small exceed who made himself be the first person in front of his friend's grave, "Are you ready to come tagging along?" asking the exceed, extending her hand out.

"A...Aye" still crying, he wiped the tears away before fluttering up to the Knight. He was alone now without his best friend beside him.

Gently embracing the exceed, careful not to crush him within her armor, "No more crying,... okay?" telling him, "Natsu wouldn't want us to cry, now would he?"

Turning around, she and the little exceed began to walk off, seemingly embarking on a journey of their own. It was tough., but she recalled something Lucy had told her in private.

"Erza..." Lucy had said entering her room, "Something I didn't say back then, but... when Natsu was dying, everything in the book began to disappear alongside him so I pushed myself to rewrite everything back in, and..." trailing slightly off.

Intrigued, she, who had buried herself in her bed, loosened her hold and peered in to what the celestial mage had to say, "and...?"

"Well... I also added extra things into Natsu's life" she told her, "I wrote everything about us,... about the two of you..." telling her, "So... it was strange that Natsu disappeared,... he shouldn't have, but..." something about what Lucy was getting at caught her attention, "The way I rewrote that book... you should be able to find it again" telling her, "Maybe then... maybe it'll have a clue to where Natsu is,... if..."

The hope of being able to see him again brought her up, "No,... it's okay, thank you" putting up a weak smile, "Thank you,... Lucy, for telling me this".

It was then Erza took it open herself to heed Lucy's words and go look for that book. She wasn't sure whether or not she was going to find it, or even if it was going to lead her to Natsu, but she was in a guild called 'Fairy Tail'. They were a guild that ignored what was impossible; to make the impossible, possible. So that if there was a possibility that his book had appeared anywhere, she would going to find it. Clenching the scarf slightly, remembering the feeling of Natsu just before he disappeared, she pushed on, knowing that somewhere out there, he was there, waiting for her.

A/N: There we go! A somewhat NatZa ...I don't know what to label this as. If I were to continue this it wouldn't be as developed or extended as the Juvia fic, but would anyone be interested in seeing a second and perhaps final part to this? I wouldn't mind doing so but I'm not sure whether or not people like it as it is now, or would like to see a happier-sort-of ending. Anywho! Let me know what you think :3 Any suggestions, or comments would be great~ Darkness out :3

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12523903/1/A-Knight-s-END

#Fairy Tail #fanfic #Natza #Natsu x Erza #Nerza #Multi chapter #fanfiction.net posting #Natsu Dragneel #Erza Scarlet #A Knights END

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zacekova · 8 years ago

Text

Unloveable

Currently in the process of reposting all my old fics that no longer show up in searches since tumblr doesn't let anyone find any posts with outside links anymore.

Fandom: xxxHolic Pairing: Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro

Inspired by the writing prompt: "name three unloveable things you quite like." Watanuki is sometimes not a lovable person

AO3

Volume Watanuki was loud. So loud, in fact, that it was a rare day that Shizuka ended it without having to stick a finger in his ear to drown out the shrieking. Watanuki seemed to be under the impression that no one, Doumeki especially, would actually understand his feelings unless they were given at decibels too numerous to count and accompanied by a dramatic flailing of limbs in a manner that would have been embarrassing for anyone else if caught moving so bizarrely. Shizuka was honestly surprised that no fellow students or neighbors, or even passing strangers on the streets, had never complained about the caterwauling, the pair only ever receiving odd looks and a handful of glares on rare occasions.

Shizuka’s home had always been rather quiet, it being the home to temple keepers. His grandfather had always been calm and soft-spoken, gentle in manner and in the tone of his voice. His father had inherited that trait, his deep baritone rumbling softly through the air and traveling clearly through the meandering halls and paper screens, audible whole rooms away but never obtrusive. The older Doumeki had found a sweet, cheerful woman to be his bride, a kind and caring woman who presented a sharp contrast to his own dry wit and teasing jokes. Shizuka had inherited the quiet awareness of the feelings of others from his mother, but not her ready smiles and giggles, not her expressive face or words. Shizuka took after his father, bland expression, sarcastic humor, low rumble and all. His home had been warm and loving and so very quiet in a welcoming and calming way.

Maybe that was why Shizuka had found Watanuki so fascinating. The energetic boy reacted so dramatically and enthusiastically to everything, whether events evoked irritation or excitement, that he could not help but to be drawn toward someone so expressive, despite the excessively high volume at which Watanuki chose to convey his thoughts and feelings. Watanuki had strong opinions about just about everything and had no reservations about proclaiming them to everyone within earshot and even those outside what would be considered within the realm of possibility. If nothing else, Shizuka found him refreshing, a spark of energy and something different from the peaceful and reserved nature of Japan; Watanuki was unique at the very least and something very special at best, if those words could even begin to describe the boy accurately. Watanuki was loud and it was annoying more often than not, but sometimes Shizuka watched him shout and dance around and admired him for his brazenness with a smile in his heart, if not on his face.

Complaining If dictionaries had pictures, Shizuka was sure there would be one of Watanuki, his brow furrowed and his mouth opened wide with a protest half-formed, right next to the word “Complaining.” It was like an endless river that stretched on beyond site of the horizon, a wildly rushing torrent that crashed and swirled about, loudly drowning out the voices of anyone on its banks. Watanuki could be irritated by the smallest of infractions, infuriated and baffled in equal measures by the expressionless and sarcastic wall Doumeki presented and he never ceased in his whining about those flaws and mistakes.

Yuuko never seemed to mind, allowing the boy to insult her on a regular basis, making snide remarks about the state of the shop’s cleanliness, her drinking habits, the way she allowed Mokono and the girls to get away with anything, her bluntness with customers, the way she never answered questions directly, the list went on and on. Shizuka could not even begin to keep up with the problems Watanuki had with Yuuko, his workplace, or the inhabitants of the shop but apparently, despite his willingness to continue going there every day, he never failed to find something wrong with how they lived their lives and more than once he found himself having to tamp down on the urge to slap him or scold him for his rudeness to his employer.

It was not just Yuuko and Shizuka, either, but almost everyone and everything he came across, Watanuki found some character flaw in. Shizuka did not think Watanuki even realized how much he complained, though, it just came out of him. He supposed it was some sort of response the boy had developed from having been taught so well by his father. Watanuki had mentioned once or twice how it was his father who had instructed him on everything from cleaning to cooking to budgeting, how his mysterious and deceased parents had taught the boy from the moment he could understand their words how to take care of himself and to do it well and after so many years of experience and practice it was only to be expected that Watanuki excelled at household chores and responsibility in general. In a way, his complaining was a reflection of his great maturity, gained through the loss of his beloved parents and years spent on his own, however badly expressed that maturity may have been.

Watanuki was a perfectionist – he had been trained to do things properly and he followed through on those expectations his parents had placed on him and held everyone else to that high standard. Shizuka would never admit it out loud, but it was actually kind of nice to have someone hold him in high enough regard that it was simply expected that he would behave better or have healthier habits than he did. The other boy seemed to genuinely believe that everyone could be as energetic, responsible, and neat and organized as he was and remained oblivious to the fact that his scolding and complaining was never going to teach anyone because they simply could not be as put together as Watanuki was. So when he started once again with an angry monologue about this or that being stupid and everyone being ungrateful, Shizuka just took another sip of his sake and asked for tamagoyaki for dinner.

Selfless Shizuka could have made a fortune if he had received even a hundred yen for every time he had needed to step into the line of fire, so to speak, and pull Watanuki’s idiotic butt out of some other life-risking situation. The moron seemed oblivious to the fact that there was almost always another solution or option to the problems they found themselves in, almost always another method they could use to finish Yuuko’s missions for them in a way that would allow them both to come out unscathed, but the boy seemed to make it his own mission to come as close to death as possible at every turn.

Watanuki was not suicidal; it was, in fact, the exact opposite of that. Watanuki wanted to live desperately, wanted to keep going so that he could help as many people as possible, even if he spent the whole time grumbling about the inconvenience of it all. The problem was that in his line of work, or rather in Yuuko’s line of work, helping people usually involved extremely dangerous situations and characters and the worst of them always seemed to want a stab, often literally, at the shopkeeper’s young assistant. Even if they were not after Watanuki himself, the spirits or mystical creatures always seemed to have a vendetta against the shop’s customers and Watanuki seemed to be under the impression that it was his responsibility to protect them all and any damage to his own person was apparently irrelevant. He walked into one life-threatening situation after another, his stupidly blue eyes ignoring the danger around him that even Shizuka could see, even before the two of them shared an eye.

Sometimes Shizuka hated everyone – Yuuko, Kunogi, the Ame-warashi, and all the spirits – all for putting Watanuki in danger so often, even if it was usually unintentional. Over and over again Shizuka had to remind himself that these people all cared about Watanuki in their own way and none of them ever wanted the boy to get hurt, even if it sometimes seemed they were not smart enough to keep it from happening. Over and over again Shizuka did what he could to protect the idiot from danger and take the worst of the blows when that was not possible, but no matter how many times he shook his head briefly and darted forward to drag the idiot away from another monster or spirit, no matter how many times he watched Watanuki bear the abuse from another tormentor of a customer, he could never forget the soft smile the boy had when someone’s wish was granted. Shizuka lived for the moments when Watanuki bled and hurt in the place of another with fire in his eyes and a determined set to his mouth. Shizuka hated that Watanuki always found some reason to put another’s wellbeing before his own, but the way it always seemed to make the idiot so happy when another person stayed safe made it worthwhile.

#doumeki x watanuki #douwata #doumeki shizuka #watanuki kimihiro #ambiguous relationship #fic tag

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