#not knowing how to settle into a new SAFE place without engaging in past activities | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heejinnien · 3 years

Text

j.jungkook | monsters

word count: 4.5k

pairing: jungkook x reader

synopsis: in the darkness is when the monsters rise.

genre: horror, angst, demon au

warnings: implied minor character death, implied toxic relationship, brief description of gore, death threat, brief violence

author’s note: please do not read this fic if any of the topics listed in the warnings is upsetting or triggering for you. this fic is based on the tale of the hungarian demon, the lidérc. they feed off of nightmares and fear. my beta readers (thank you so much to @voiceswithoutlips-kas, @elcie-chxn, and ryan for beta reading this fic for me) have told me that this fic might be confusing to read at first, so please read it in its entirety. i promise that every detail serves a purpose. that being said, the entire fic will be placed under the read more cut, as triggering content is mentioned right from the start. the banner was made by @voiceswithoutlips-kas, thank you so much.

cross posted to ao3 here

Now

He's dead, the doctors tell you.

The surgeon in charge of the procedure that was supposed to save your husband's life murmurs his condolences, explaining how your husband's body rejected the new organ. They tried their best, he explains, but once your husband's body had decided to reject it there was not much they could do.

It's almost ironic how he died, considering the numerous ways you thought he would go over the years due to the reckless activities he constantly engaged in. Each time he would leave the house you feared for his life, feared that one day he would no longer return to you. Now, it seems, your worst fears have come true.

When the news finally sinks in you let out a sob, although whether it is one of relief or one of despair you can't quite decipher.

Despite the fact that he loved berating you, loved tearing you down until you were entirely reliant on him, you still loved him. Until death do us part, you had promised on the day of your wedding, and you still loved him as much as you did when you were both teenagers in high school. Going on a date with him sparked the same chaos of butterflies in your stomach as it did on your first date, and you were giddy over the smallest amounts of affection, willingly bending over backward trying to please the man who used to be your husband even at your own discomfort.

In the first days of your marriage, your friends and family would visit you. You had bought an apartment together in the city so that he would be close to his work. You had your reservations at first, but he slowly convinced you of the idea. Of course, he could convince you to walk across glass and you gladly would, for him.

And, at first, you were delighted when somebody would visit you. Your husband had insisted he would provide for your every need, so you didn’t work. You also didn’t leave the apartment, as your husband had also insisted it was too dangerous for you. You had initially become hurt at his words, but when he explained it was merely because you weren’t used to the city and that he would take you out whenever you needed to go out, you accepted his words without argument.

Then

“Y/N,” one of your friends had said abruptly during her visit. You were conversing casually over tea, yourself perched on the edge of your sofa and her on a loveseat opposite you. She leaned forward, worry creasing her face. “I think you should come back home.”

“I’m fine, Soodam,” you replied, startled at her words and setting your tea cup down loudly. “I love my husband, and I love the city.”

Soodam pursed her lips. “From what I’ve seen, your husband keeps you prisoner here.”

You stood indignantly, anger flaring inside you at her words. “He does not! He just wants what’s best for me.”

“How many times have you been into the city then, Y/N?” Soodam pushed, standing up after you. She stepped closer, and you shied away, suddenly nervous.

“I… That doesn’t matter.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to put space between you and Soodam. No matter how much you desperately wanted her to stay away from you, she continued to follow you, grabbing your arm to prevent you from running away from her.

“Y/N, please listen to me,” she begged. “You haven’t been the same since you married him and you know it. The apartment is the only place your husband allows us to meet, and he keeps you like a dog on a leash.”

You yanked your arm out of her hold, anger bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion. How dare she talk ill of you and your husband like that, she didn’t know anything about you.

“Get out,” you spat harshly, wiping furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

Soodam’s eyes widened, and her voice softened. “Y/N, please. I miss you.” She stepped forward again. “Come home with me.”

“I — ” You trembled, suddenly unsure. Your previous anger dissipated within a second, and you stared at your longtime friend. Sensing your hesitation, Soodam continued, this time with a renewed vigor.

“Your parents miss you, Y/N, I miss you. Please, just come back with me and — ”

“That will be enough, Soodam.”

The aforementioned girl gasped, and you looked to see your husband standing in the doorway to the living room, face stoic but eyes burning with anger. He spared you a brief glance before moving into the room, making your friend suddenly cower back in fright.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Scared, Soodam stared at the floor, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and immediately walking in the direction of the door. Before she could get there, your husband grabbed her arm, much as she had done to you earlier, and whispered in her ear. She nodded, face ashen, staring at the ground and refusing to meet your pleading gaze. Moments later, she was gone.

Silence permeated the apartment. Then, “She won’t be returning.”

You knew better than to question your husband’s wishes so you nodded, throat dry. Your husband let out a harsh laugh at your obedience, before dropping his briefcase by the front door. Without so much as another word, he strode down the corridor leading to his office, the sound of a door slamming ringing through the same passageway moments later. The silence afterwards was even worse than your husband’s wrath, the emotions of the past few seconds catching up to you once again and settling upon you like an unwanted blanket.

That was the last time you saw your friend.

Now

You can't remember the first time you feel as though you are being watched. It might have to do with the first time you see him, as after your first encounter you never consciously feel safe again.

The days following your husband's death seem to pass by in a blur, and sometime during them he appears, slowly forcing himself into every aspect of your life until he is a constant fixture you can no longer ignore.

The first time you see him is during your husband’s funeral. The sky is a somber grey, as if it can sense your mood, and an icy wind nips at anything within its grasp. It is the beginning of winter, and the cold is sharp, chilling you to the bone despite the numerous layers you have on. The funeral is brief, more of a formality than anything. Strangers give you their condolences, and it only serves to remind you of how little you truly know about your husband.

It is when the casket is being lowered into the ground that you see him, standing among the group of mourners.

He is huddled in the center of the group, head bowed. Something about his presence draws you to him, and you don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up, making direct eye contact with you. You quickly look away, face burning with shame. Imagine how it must look, you mentally chide yourself, the wife of a dead man checking out another at his funeral.

You chuckle, the sound empty and devoid of any humor. Luckily for you, at that moment, the casket is finished being lowered. The priest in charge of the funeral’s addresses hands you a shovel, effectively drawing your attention away from the mystery man. As you send shovel after shovel full of dirt flying onto the casket, he is effectively pushed further and further away from your mind.

It is not until after the procession is over, guests beginning to head back to their cars that he approaches you. You have just thanked the priest for his words, turning to walk back to your car when you let out a gasp.

He is standing right in front of you, broad frame seeming imposing against your smaller one. He cocks his head to the side, holding out one hand for you to shake.

“Hello love,” the man’s voice is silky, and he grasps your hand firmly. Even though it is a simple handshake, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. The man stares at you, his expression unreadable, and you have the sinking feeling that he knows the effect he has on you. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” you say similarly, albeit a bit hesitant. He feels familiar, the subtlety of his features causing your memory to tingle, an identification of who he is just outside of your grasp. You assume he is just another one of your husband’s associates, shoving away the niggling feeling to give Jungkook a polite smile, hoping he picks up that to you, the conversation is over.

He does, because he steps to the side, allowing you to pass. As you hurry to your car, the skin on the back of your neck prickles, the feeling of someone watching you causing your hair to stand on end. When you look back, however, Jungkook is gone.

From the funeral, the feeling of being watched follows you everywhere. Coincidentally, so does Jungkook.

You run into him at the store, the park, even the lobby of your apartment complex, since it turns out he is a resident who recently moved in. Each time, he gives you a charming but guarded smile, attempting to strike up a conversation with you. Each time, you give short, uninterested responses, something about Jungkook’s presence causing you unease.

A month after the funeral, you are woken up in the dead of night by a pounding on your apartment door. Heart racing, you jolt away to the sound, fumbling in the dark for your phone. Squinting to read the harsh digital light, you manage to make out that it is three am.

Swearing at the heathen who dares interrupt your sleep, you throw off the covers of your bed, swinging your legs onto the floor and using your phone light to navigate the dark hallway.

By the time you finally reach your front door, the pounding has stopped. Annoyed, you unbolt the lock and yank open the wood, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind.

The hallway is empty.

The mysterious incident sets you on guard, only serving to increase your paranoia. Several nights later, you hear it again, only this time you swear you hear something else, too.

A voice, calling your name.

“Y/N,” it says sweetly, almost crooning. Even though you are locked in your room and buried beneath the security of a multitude of blankets, the voice manages to reach your ears, sickeningly sweet. “Come out, sweetheart.”

You spend the night huddling in your bed in fear, praying for the noises to go away. You are surprised your neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint about it by now since they’ve complained over lesser, you think, a thought that dryly amuses you.

Much to your chagrin, the noise continues for the next few nights. Each time you stay huddled in your bed, irrationally hoping that the blankets around you will protect you from whatever it is outside your door.

During the day, you don’t fare much better. You swear you are beginning to lose your mind. You find keys moved, doors left ajar. The fear you feel of being watched only increases.

The last straw that breaks the camel’s back comes when you finally seek out your landlord, demanding to see the security cameras.

“Y/N,” the landlord glances from out of the corner of his eyes at you worriedly as he slots the keys to the security room into the lock. He pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter first. “I know things have been… stressful for you lately.”

He pauses, flipping on the light switch and illuminating a set of monitors. “Are you sure that someone has been…” He trails off, struggling to repeat what you had told him earlier. “Knocking on your door at three am?”

You glare at the man, and he gulps, effectively silencing himself and preceding to busy himself with the monitors. Hell hath no fury a woman scorned, and you are tired of the constant paranoia that has settled deep in your bones. An uncomfortable silence settles upon you, and you stare unnervingly at your landlord, too sleep deprived and furious to be aware of your rude actions.

“Ah, here it is,” the landlord flashes you a weak smile, pushing a monitor towards you. He clicks his mouse a few times, and footage displaying the hallway outside of your apartment begins to play.

You stare intently at the screen, watching the numbers signaling the time in the corner slowly tick away until finally they reach three am. You hold your breath, and see

Nothing.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you whirl on your landlord. “Did you tamper with the footage?”

If possible, your landlord looks even more nervous, and he gulps. "I haven’t been in here in the past few days.”

“Try another night,” you demand, desperation welling inside you.

Obediently, he speeds up the tape until it is the following day. And, like in the previous footage, as the clock hits three, the hallway is deserted.

Silence permeates the room.

“Y/N,” the landlord lets out a sympathetic sound, and you don’t realize you have begun to cry until a tear splatters on your shirt. “I think it’s best if you just go back to your apartment.”

Embarrassed and frustrated, you nod, storming out of the room...

And right into Jungkook. Your chin collides with his chest, and you reel backwards, angrily swiping at your tears. The aforementioned individual stares at you, concern lacing his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter angrily. “Just let me pass.”

Jungkook wordlessly steps to the side, and you quickly hurry past him, now mortified more than anything.

What you didn’t know was that you had just made two, fatal mistakes.

If you had looked into his eyes, you would’ve seen the gleam of delight in his orbs.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the way he smiled.

The footage replaying in your mind, you finally seek out a therapist and book an appointment for the following day. You don’t fall asleep that night, body tense in terror and dread exponentially filling you as the clock ticks closer to three. The knocking, however, never comes, and sometime around the rise of the sun this realization sinks upon you.

You barely make it to your session that day, state in disarray. The many nights of sleeplessness and terror are catching up to you, and you drag your feet down the street, fatigue crashing down upon you.

Somehow, you manage to locate the therapist’s office and scribble down all of your personal information on the clipboard that the receptionist hands you as you enter. You sit in the waiting room, legs bouncing anxiously.

“Y/N?”

You look up as the door opposite you opens and a kind looking man stares down at you.

“Hi, that’s me,” you say, standing and striding over to him. He takes in your worn appearance, eyes kind and compassionate.

“I’m Dr. Kim, but please, call me Taehyung.”

He leads you to a small room just off the main corridor. Several closed doors line the passageway, and at your curious glance Taehyung explains that they are the offices of his coworkers.

His office is small but cozy, a desk on one side and a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the far wall, and a lamp next to the couch gives the room a soft glow. He gestures in the direction of the couch, pulling a chair from his desk over as you sit stiffly.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here today, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, steepling his fingers on top of his lap and the papers lying there. Your gaze flickers down to the top paper, the sheet you know you had scribbled information on earlier, and he smiles. “I know you already answered that in the pre-screening questions, but I just wanted to ask you instead. It’s always different when someone says it I find.”

Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile, and you take a deep. With the landlord’s footage playing in your head, you finally manage to open your mouth and say, “I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.” Taehyung nods, as if this is a normal thing, and you push on. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night to this pounding on my door.”

“A pounding?” Taehyung frowns, and the expression sends dread plummeting to your gut.

“I went to the landlord about it,” you say quickly. “But when he showed me the security footage, there was no one there. I swear I’m not crazy, though. It’s almost as if…”

You trail off, forcing your jaw shut before you suggest something crazy.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Taehyung says soothingly. “You’re in a safe place.”

You nod, closing your eyes and attempting to calm your breathing. When you open them, Taehyung is staring at you worriedly.

“Almost as if what, Y/N?” Taehyung gives you another encouraging look. “It’s okay.”

“Almost as if…” You take a deep breath. “As if I’m being haunted by a monster.”

“Monsters?” Much to his credit, Taehyung doesn’t sound mocking at your confession. You nod, throat dry, and he leans forward. “Monsters aren’t real, Y/N.”

“I know that,” you say, your words ending up in an almost whisper. “I just…”

“You wrote that your husband passed away recently, did he not?” Taehyung asks, and you are grateful for the subject change, even if it is to another depressing topic. You nod, and Taehyung continues. “Grief is powerful, and manifests itself differently in everyone. I think that this is just your grief trying to find an outlet.”

“I don’t — ” You protest, but Taehyung quickly holds up a hand to silence you.

“I know it might not seem that way, but trust me, there are no monsters, Y/N.”

You nod slowly, and Taehyung smiles. This time, it’s sharp and sends a shiver down your spine. A dark look passes over Taehyung’s expressions briefly, so briefly you wonder if you imagined it, and then he smiles once again, this one the same, gentle one as before.

“I’ll write you a prescription that should help you sleep.”

“But, Taehyung, that’s not the problem — ”

Taehyung hums, already turning away, and your protests fall on deaf ears.

You end up leaving the session several hundreds of dollars lighter, one prescription heavier, and the worries pressing down upon you still prominent within you.

That evening, when you return to your apartment complex you see Jungkook in your apartment lobby. You had stopped for groceries on the way home, and you are carrying two large paper bags, each one nestled in the crook of your arm.

Jungkook is standing by the elevators. He turns at the sound of you, lip quirked at the sight of you struggling to carry two bags.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asks lightly, brow creasing in concern.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, your usual answer whenever he asks if he can help. This time, he purses his lips, and you feel a pang of guilt. You think about your therapist’s words, that the sinking sensation you have around him is probably just guilt, and shove down the feeling before saying, “Actually, if you could, that would be great.”

Jungkook beams, taking one of the bags from its precarious grip against you. Moments later, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. He motions for you to step inside first before following you, pressing the number for your floor. You open your mouth to ask how he knows your floor, but you quickly close it, the therapist’s words ringing in your head. Coincidence, you think.

The ride is silent, the only sound the occasional shuffling as you adjust your grasp on the bag. You find the silence uncomfortable no matter how much you try to convince yourself of your delusion, the sound of the elevator signaling your floor causing you to exhale in relief.

You are the first one off, leading Jungkook to your apartment door. You fumble with your key, shoving it unceremoniously inside the lock and pushing open the door with your hip. You flip on the lights, already heading in the direction of the kitchen before the lights have even fully powered on.

“You can set the groceries down here,” you nod your head in the direction of the counter, setting the groceries down there yourself. Jungkook does the same.

After setting the groceries down, you expect Jungkook to leave but instead he stands, observing you. Unease twists once more in your stomach, and the fact that you two are alone, together, in your home sinks down upon you.

“Thank you for your help,” you say in what you hope is a clear dismissal. Jungkook doesn’t move, continuing to stare at you unflinchingly. You subconsciously step back.

Jungkook steps forward.

“What are you — ”

“Do you not remember me?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, question innocent but voice laced with venom. You swallow, your throat dry, and take another step backwards.

“Uh, no? I’m sorry, you were one of my husband’s associates, right?”

Jungkook scoffs, and in that moment his stance reminds you of a predator. He prowls forward, matching each step you take backward.

“You know who I am, Y/N L/N,” he sneers.

“I don’t — ”

“Yes, you do!” Jungkook spits angrily, slamming his hand into the counter, the loud sound causing you to jump. He cocks his head to the side, eyes twinkling in a mischievous way that has fear coating the inside of your stomach.

“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it, Y/N?”

To anyone else, the statement may seem harmless, a well known idiom used to caution the overcurious mind. To you, they tear at your memories. You gasp as one particular memory flies to the forefront of your mind.

Then

You gently pushed open the already ajar door of your husband’s office, looking around the room for your husband. You had just finished making dinner and were ready for him to come to the dining room so you two could eat, but he was nowhere to be seen. On his desk, you spotted the tray you had left him for lunch.

You hesitated on the room’s threshold, your husband’s warnings to never step foot in his office ringing in your ears. After a brief mental war with yourself, you finally slipped inside, quickly and silently heading in the direction of his desk.

You picked up the tray, and before you could look away papers resting beneath the tray caught your attention.

“Oh my god — ”

You let out a gasp, the tray slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor, the sound deafening in the still silence. Face up on your husband’s desk, beneath the tray, was a photograph of a young man. His face and body had been badly mutilated, and the sight made you sick.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the photo, instead meeting your husband’s steely gaze. The body was pushed to the back of your mind, your heart beginning to race for an entirely different reason.

“I saw the door ajar and just wanted to get your lunch tray,” you stammered, cowering beneath his gaze.

He’s silent, staring at you unnervingly before, “Get out.”

You were all too eager to obey, quickly scrambling in the direction of the door. The entire way you felt your husband’s burning gaze, and you had just passed him when his hand shot out, gripping your arm painfully tight. He leaned down, his lips hovering above your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” he says, words causing your heart to feel as though it has stopped and your stomach to drop out from beneath you. “Be careful of where you look, or else you’ll end up like him.”

You ate dinner alone that night.

Now

“Oh my god.”

You barely register as your legs give out beneath you, weak beneath Jungkook’s menacing gaze as the missing piece to Jungkook’s identification that had been nagging at you ever since you had first seen him finally clicks into place.

Before you had suppressed it, you had wondered why your husband had that picture on his desk. Now, everything clicks.

Your husband had been responsible for Jungkook’s death.

You had never been a violent person, and the sheer gore that you had seen from the photographs had caused you to repress that memory. Now, it is vivid and fresh in your mind, and you shake your head furiously as if that will cause the memory to dissipate.

“It’s not my fault,” you insist, staring into Jungkook’s burning gaze pleadingly. “I’m sorry for my husband’s actions, but — ”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, and suddenly he is in front of you, hand against your windpipe. Your breath hitches in fear, and you swear you see a gleam of satisfaction deep within his dark orbs. “You could’ve done something to stop him.”

“I didn’t know what he was up to, I promise,” you sob, vision blurring with tears. Jungkook coos at the sight, gently stroking the bottom of your chin with his thumb. His touch feels as though it burns against your skin, and you flinch.

“Shh, baby.” Jungkook leans forward until his mouth is against your ear. The moment feels strangely intimate, and his breath sends shivers down your spine, just serving to heighten your fear. Every muscle within your body is tense.

“Your therapist was wrong about me, you know,” Jungkook chuckles, the sound sending warning bells signaling throughout your head. “Monsters do exist.”

His hand suddenly tightens, and you choke as your air supply begins to dwindle. The world around you begins to spin, and as everything fades into darkness you hear Jungkook’s voice one more time.

“I can’t wait to break you.”

You gasp awake, heart pounding. You sit up in bed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. As you piece together the details from your nightmare, your hands quickly fly to your throat, gently pressing against it where Jungkook’s hands were. You wince, and you quickly shove your covers aside, flipping on your bedside lamp and stumbling into your bathroom.

When you flip on the switch, you are greeted by a ring of purple and grey bruises around your throat. Your eyes widen in horror as the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare crashes down upon you.

And that’s when you hear it.

The pounding on the door.

#monsters #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungguk #bts jungguk #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #horror #angst #bts horror #bts angst #bts demon au #bts au

166 notes · View notes

infinitebells · 3 years

Note

Hi! I don't know if the requests are open, I was going to ask for swf or nsfw alphabet for william. whichever you are comfortable with! thank you 💖

ahh i actually haven’t done this yet! i’ll do a few random letters for both sfw and nsfw so enjoy :)

letters: d g h t w

sfw

d - domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

✧ he hasn’t ever thought about settling down because to him, his life is on a deadline due to his position as a crime consultant

✧ however, when he meets you, he has more of a reason to stay alive and keep himself safe just so that he can come back to you

✧ his favorite domestic thing to do with you is grade papers at his desk while you sit in an armchair in his office and bury yourself in a book

✧ in terms of cooking, he isn’t as good as louis, but he definitely knows how to make some food

✧ his specialty is definitely breakfast in bed, and he always asks fred for a flower to put in a small vase for you

✧ he is actually a really efficient cleaner too

✧ he likes having things neat and clean, so he often volunteers to clean for you so you can rest your pretty little feet

g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

✧ he’s honestly extremely gentle with you

✧ he’s seen and been a victim of the horrors of the world, so he is always soft with you because he can’t bear to ever make you uncomfortable or upset

✧ he isn’t necessarily vocal with his gentleness, but he shows it through soft smiles at you across rooms, holding your hand in public places so he doesn’t lose you, and head pats whenever he feels like it

✧ if he senses you’re upset, he’ll calmly urge you to voice your emotions because it’s always better to have them out in the open

✧ however, he won’t push you past your boundaries, and is always super respectful if you simply need space

✧ his favorite thing to do though is spooning you at night, because he likes the security of being able to hold you while you two sleep

h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

✧ he didn’t really grow up with a lot of physical affection, so the first time you try to give him a hug he’s like “hello what are you doing?”

✧ once you explain that you like giving hugs, he’s more than willing to indulge you

✧ his hugs are almost healing

✧ he keeps one hand on your back, rubbing it up and down in a soothing way, while another one rests on your head and pets your hair if you have it

✧ he doesn’t really initiate hugs, but he’s more than happy to accept them from you

t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

✧ because he isn’t the most outwardly affectionate person, he makes up for it by making any date, gift, etc. very meaningful

✧ he’ll take you to restaurants where he knows they have your favorite food, or he’ll leave tiny gifts on your pillow with notes as to why they remind him of you

✧ for anniversaries, he always takes a day off from any work he has, insisting on spending all of the day with you

✧ each year he gets you a really beautiful piece of jewelry, claiming that the last gift will be an engagement ring

✧ his affection shines through on these beautiful dates, and he makes sure to show you just how much he loves you

w - whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

✧ william is a very confident and independent man, he could quite honestly live the rest of his life with his brothers and friends and be fine

✧ once he meets you though, he finds it hard to spend any time away from you

✧ he can definitely spend time away from you, especially if he needs to focus on lessons or working on crime cases

✧ however, he always misses your presence, no matter what

✧ now that he has you in his life, he’ll be damn sure to keep you safe and sound no matter what

nsfw

d - dirty secret

✧ he would secretly keep a pair of your underpants in his room, and whenever he has to leave on long trips, takes them with him

✧ 110% uses them to jack off whenever he’s really missing you

✧ they didn’t have phones back then, this was the only way he could get off!

✧ would definitely steal a new pair like every few days, and he never ever lets you find out about this

g - goofy (are they more serious or goofy in the moment?)

✧ william is usually a more serious person when it comes to you two’s sexual activities

✧ sex is a bit more important to him because he probably only had a handful, if that, of partners for you, so it’s a more intimate thing

✧ he’s serious because he wants to convey his love through his actions, making sure you know with each stroke how much he values you

✧ on the rare occasion where he’s a bit more relaxed, and you two are cockwarming or something related, he’ll make small jokes just to see your beautiful smile

h - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

✧ i touched on this in one of my more recent hc’s, but the professor likes to trim his hair every once in a while

✧ he knows you don’t have a preference, and because smart man here knows that hair is used to keep his family jewels safe from infection, he won’t cut all of his hair

✧ the carpet does match the drapes, but his hair is a lot thinner and finer down there, so you don’t have anything to be worried about

✧ overall he has a very clean and well kept area of hair

t - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

✧ listen, i have no idea what kind of toys they would have had back then, but i firmly believe that william has two dildos: one for him and one for you

✧ he tried pegging once and now he absolutely cannot get enough of it

✧ however, he also loves using your own dildo on you because while it feels good, he knows it doesn’t compare to his own cock

✧ he does this to tease you, when you act bratty or out of line

✧ only after you’ve cum twice on the flimsy replacement of his own dick, then he’ll finally stop using the toy on you

w - wildcard

✧ one time william let moran watch as he completely and utterly destroyed you

✧ he left you a shaking, twitching, whimpering mess, pounding into you with such reckless abandon you almost passed out at one point

✧ the one rule was that moran couldn’t touch you, only himself

✧ the sight of him furiously fucking himself into his fist only made you clench tighter around william, which led to the idea of once a month sit ins from the colonel

✧ the days after those sessions, you couldn’t walk properly for days, and the only people who knew why were william and moran

✧ william is nothing if not rough when those sessions happen, solely because he uses it as a way to put himself above moran

taglist: @babyoomi @honeysunny

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty

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muddyhippy · 4 years

Photo

Amazing artwork of Ivy and Lily done by @smolghostings who is entirely awesome and melted my heart with all her Lily and the Mechs fanart!

Night Terrors, Chapter 6 : Pageturner

Chapter on AO3 Here

New chapter! Sorry it’s taken a while everyone but the new chapter featuring Ivy is now up!

Pageturner

Lily made her way carefully towards the Library. It was very late but she knew Ivy would still be up. Ivy was always up. Except when they had all slept together on her first night. That had been really nice. Lily hoped they’d have another big sleepy cuddle soon, it was where she felt safest. Even safer than when she was in Jonny’s arms, tucked up against his chest, listening to him tick. Which was very, very safe in her opinion.

She didn’t want to bother Jonny. Not tonight. This was something she needed to do herself. She was a big girl after all. She was eight whole years old and she had to know the ending of the story. She’d dreamt about it and it had ended very badly so now she needed to know the truth of it.

She knocked carefully on the side of the open door, “Ivy? Ivy are you there?”

Lily waited a few moments before trying again, “Ivy?” She called, a little louder.

“Yes?” A familiar voice answered from somewhere out of sight.

Relief flooded Lily, “Can I come in please?”

“Yes.”

Lily stepped in very carefully looking around for the archivist. “Ivy?”

The archivist appeared from the depths of one of the stacks, assessing the nervous-looking little girl in one glance, “Given the current ship’s time and the fact that you are here unaccompanied you have had a nightmare and you cannot find Jonny?” Ivy tried to keep the mild annoyance from her voice, nightmare duty was very much Jonny’s territory and she had been in the midst of some long overdue re-stacking.

Lily sniffed, rubbing her sleeve across her face making her look even younger, her other hand clutching something grey and fuzzy Ivy couldn’t quite make out.

“Had a nightmare, didn’t look for Jonny, wanted you.”

That made Ivy pause, brusque response dying on her lips, there was a 74% likelihood that Ivy would be the 8th choice for comfort, only ahead of Ashes given the quartermaster’s well documented dislike of physical contact.

“Why?”

“Had a nightmare about the story I’m reading, dreamt it had a very bad ending. Wanted to make sure it wasn’t true.”

Ivy considered, Lily’s bright liquid eyes were full of unshed tears and felt herself soften in sympathy. She knew that concern, usually the concern of whether the book was going to have a satisfying ending or not rather than the obvious ‘happy’ one Lily was clearly hoping for but it was the same principle. And it was deeply pleasing to see the child so invested in a book Ivy had provided.

Ivy found she enjoyed offering choices to the child, the archivist had quickly read all the English language books (Ivy was determined to get her confident in English before fully embarking on a new language since that was what Lily currently spoke and understood and she didn’t want to overwhelm her which too much information. Ivy had had several information overloads over the centuries and it had taken several of her crewmates to help calm her down and console her) deemed suitable for a young audience by the authors in her vast collection and had begun a list that detailed all the books that seemed in keeping with the child’s interests, both the emergant ones and the ones she was now getting comfortable enough to voice. Ivy had pulled out as many English language books she had on geology, with a specificity on minerals and gemstones, Lily’s eyes had lit up at the sight of so many crystals, apparently she didn’t know that they could be so many different colours.

The interests she was discovering with the crew was a pleasure to source and support, she was one of the few members of the crew who actively sought knowledge and stories out from the library, with a few notable exceptions in recent months. The other’s reading habits not-withstanding, the archivist had added more and more books to Lily’s shelves (that had needed extra levels installing) covering a range of topics, from tea party traditions, recipes from several worlds, horse riding and non-lethal junior science to guns, galaxies and gobstoppers. Ivy liked being able to use her collection for the benefit of the crew and did so to inform them on upcoming planetary visits if she had something that covered them or hunted down more star charts and galaxy guides for the terminally curious but this was something else.

Ivy had never had the opportunity to nurture a young mind before, one with no prejudice or preconceptions other than her general sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and that if it was a fictional story she wanted there to be a happy ending. Which honestly was reasonable given how painfully aware Lily was that happy-ever-afters were not a common thing.

As it was, Ivy knew the ending of the story Lily was reading, she could just tell her and send her back to bed but it seemed hardly fair to rob her of the experience of discovering it herself. These things, reading a story for the first time was a journey, something to be experienced, sometimes endured but always enjoyed in the end if the writing was compelling enough and made you care enough about the outcome.

Lily certainly cared enough.

Lily cared.

It was her default setting.

It was something Ivy appreciated even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to engage with it. She and Lily often sat together for at least an hour a day reading, Ivy helping her with new words she didn’t understand and having her say them aloud until she got the hang of how the word felt in her mouth, saying it clearly and in context.

Ivy was rather proud how much Lily’s vocabulary had increased over the past three and a half months, the archivist hadn’t thought much to teaching, leaving the others to come and go in their reading habits without comment or judgement so long as the books were put back exactly where they belonged and in the same condition when they were done. And if she placed a few specific books on specific easy-to-reach shelves where certain adults would know where to look when they came into the library in the middle of the night looking shaken and sleep-ruffled, well that was neither here or there.

Ivy enjoyed watching Lily enjoy reading her stories, the child had made her way through an impressive chunk of Ivy’s collection so far and the archivist had been actively seeking more child-appropriate content for Lily on each new planet they visited in order to ensure she never ran out of books for Lily to absorb, it was an excellent new strand to her acquisition quest, after all, she’d never made as diligent an effort to collect children’s stories before, there had been no real point. And if she had developed the practice of reading each book before putting it on to Lily’s shelves well, she was just being a responsible librarian.

Ivy nodded to the little girl, “Alright then, you know where it is, go and get it and find your answer, I’ll be here if you need me.”

Lily took a step forward towards Ivy then stopped herself, “Thank you Ivy.”

Lily scurried to fetch her book and settle on her usual cushion.

That was odd, Lily was often keen for physical affection, she’d developed a specific sign of affection for Ivy which the archivist appreciated since she struggled to acquiesce easily to the exuberant affection Lily asked for and got from the others but Lily’d never paused like that before.

The archivist considered, allowing a raft of calculations to wash over her, hmm… there was an 83% chance Lily felt uncomfortable about coming to library past her bedtime since that was something that had seemed pretty sacred to her and the ensuing ritual she and Jonny had developed of Lily saying goodnight to everyone she could see, taking his hand and having him tell her a story until she fell asleep, that, for Lily was the end of one day. Ivy had wondered if the distinction between night and day for Lily was important in accepting when she was ‘safe’ and when she had to be on guard from her nightmares. It was also possible with a 61% likelihood that Lily felt that she should not seek comfort when she was clearly trying to manage her reaction to this particular nightmare on her own especially given the lack of Jonny in tow. It was also highly likely (87%) Lily was keen to show her maturity in the face of a nightmare when faced with someone whom she did not interact with often when in this particularly vulnerable state.

That seemed like a foolish endeavour since the whole crew knew just how tactile Lily was after a nightmare, most of them had seen her being comforted by Jonny as he sang to her whilst he carried her around the corridors at least once, the child clinging to him like an especially sticky octokitten. More often Ivy knew Lily sought out the first mate in his room and climbed into his bunk to settle back down to sleep but there were a few nights she screeched Hell Fire or even more rarely, she was too miserable to settle which had Jonny crooning gently to her instead as he walked the corridors, the motion of his movement coupled with the sounds of his heart reassuring her that she was not alone.

It was so deeply incongruent to see this gentle side of Jonny appear seemingly out of nowhere though it was becoming a common sight which was possibly even stranger.

Even more incongruently, for some reason the child very much liked the ‘Alice’ sequence.

The others including herself challenged him on it one night after bedtime since it was hardly one of their friendlier stories, but then again, they didn’t really go in for that sort of thing full stop and he argued it was the first thing he thought to sing when she didn’t want the Rose and Cinders story again that night, he didn’t know the Cadence tale well enough and Hereward was Tim’s song.

And, he argued, he couldn’t very well sing their stories to her since they’d not actually talked to her about their Mechanisms yet. He had grudgingly admitted he’d panicked when he remembered the ending of Alice halfway through the last section and impulsively added a ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ in desperation. Thankfully, she’d just accepted it, possibly because she was just exhausted but for whatever reason, she liked it, especially Hatter and Hare.

Tim and Brian had been rather pleased about that, both thoroughly enjoying surprising her with that one dinner time as she started to set the table, breaking out into the song, dancing with each other and then with Lily waltzing around the mess table as the Toy Soldier poured tea for everyone utterly thrilled that everyone present wanted a cup. All three of them danced with it in turn as well making its smile somehow even wider.

Aurora had recorded it all and shown the others after Lily had fizzed with excitement telling the rest of the crew when they came to sit down for dinner. It had been one of the honestly most wholesome things Ivy thought she’d ever witnessed. And she’d seen a lot. Both physically and within the myriad of stories she read.

Ivy considered, she wondered if she was supposed to go and check on the child since she’d shown up obviously upset after a very specific nightmare but Ivy had no idea what she was supposed to do in comforting Lily. Ivy was not a singer, not like most of her crewmates, her music was enough to share but maybe Lily needed more? It was highly likely (68% in fact) that her statement about not wanting Jonny but in fact Ivy, was actually a cover. Not enough of a cover to mask the fact that despite Lily wanting to be seen as an adult that could solve her own problems she was very much a child still, a child who was vulnerable and upset and needed comforting post-nightmare. Something Ivy felt woefully unprepared to tackle.

She was already reaching for her communicator when a wobbly voice called out,

“Ivy?”

“Yes?”

Little feet pattered through the stacks and appeared looking even blotchier-faced.

“Are you alright?” enquired a very unsure Archivist.

Ivy knew the ending, the ending that was most assuredly happy. It was happy and good and satisfying for young readers and adults if they liked satisfying, comfortable endings. If Lily had read the ending already it should not have provoked this response. Also it was highly unlikely Lily could have reached the ending in the time that had elapsed. There were still seven chapters to go and Lily had an average reading speed of a page every 52 seconds (Something Ivy was very proud of, Lily’s reading speed had increased by 14 seconds since joining them and her confidence in reading aloud had doubled).

With rising panic her fingers inched back for the communicator

Lily held up her right hand, fingers splayed.

Ivy responded immediately, stepping forwards carefully, gently pressing each fingertip to Lily’s.

Ivy was honestly surprised the child had remembered in her upset.

It was something she did with Ivy and only Ivy when she came to read but that was always when the little girl was happy and excited.

Lily had asked her if she could give Ivy a ‘finger hug’ the second time she ever came to visit the library, three days after she joined the crew.

That had taken the archivist by surprise.

“A finger hug?” Questioned Ivy. She quickly wracked her memory files to pull up some form of record or reference to such a thing and came up empty.

“Yes.” Lily held up her little hand fingers and thumb splayed wide, “we touch our fingers together and it means we’re hugging.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t really like hugs and I want to hug you because I think you’re really nice and kind to let me come into the library and read real books even though they’re very special but I don’t want to make you feel bad by hugging you because that’s not nice or kind to do so if you like this instead then I can hug you without making you feel, um, icky.” Lily trailed off in the face of Ivy’s intense gaze.

Lily’s words, if phrased a little childishly, were deeply heart-felt.

Ivy felt herself bluescreen.

She hadn’t said a word to Lily about not being overly comfortably or confident with physical affection, Jonny had prompted Lily to ask for permission to hold her hand but that was it. She filed that away for future reference on how perceptive Lily was. The others should be made aware of this since they liked to think they were subtle.

Then again, it could be entertaining to watch them get caught out by a tiny observer.

Thing was, it was an observation that was made and then used to inform a kind action.

That was not a very common activity on board the Aurora. Or at least, not an activity anyone would ever own up to.

Ivy felt herself melt a little, it was such a simple consideration but a very welcome one. Even in the three days Lily had been on board, Lily had shown an emotional maturity that was far beyond her years, the child listened and watched the crew carefully, obviously trying to pick up on what was acceptable behaviour and responses.

Partly this seemed to be a survival instinct, Lily could, after all, be classed as prey amongst a den of predators.

Ivy had shuddered internally at that comparison, it felt wrong, even though her crewmates were epitome of dangerous they’d all made a concerted effort to be gentle with Lily, maybe more like a cub in a den of predators? That felt oddly more appropriate despite the notion of any of the Mechanisms actually having children of their own was not only a statistical impossibility from a physical perspective but one so far-removed from the general outlooks of them all to be deemed laughable.

And yet.

The behaviours exhibited so far by Jonny, Marius, Brian and more surprisingly Raphaella and Ashes (albeit from a distance) seemed to hint if not possessing buried parental instincts at least a sense of affinity and empathy. The others had yet to be truly tested however there was at least a 79% chance Tim would also begin to display elder sibling behaviours if not a full paternal instinct. It was fascinating to see.

The Toy Soldier was very pleased to have a new friend. Lily had already been seen happily playing with it in the three days she’d been on board, they’d raced past the library door the previous, day, a piping little voice shouting ‘Tig!’ triumphantly, also given how much TS loved the crew it was likely that affection would carry over to Lily as well gifting the child with a friendship that would be unbreakable. Nastya had not been around enough to observe but Ivy suspected the engineer was also harbouring an affinity with the child as well, both of them having survived (relatively speaking in Nastya’s case) the murder of her family and the destruction of all she knew.

And then there was herself.

Ivy could and was in the process of reading any and all child-rearing health books she had in her library to help out Raphaella’s research. Ivy had no memories of her own childhood, be they wants, needs or behaviours. She was 89% sure she had her passion for reading and acquiring knowledge from an extremely early age but she had not real framework to apply from her own experiences.

Ivy tried not to think about all the lost memory data of hers, and normally she could and did avoid it but there had been so much chatter surrounding the subject of reminiscence, almost all of them, even Nastya, had offered tidbits of their own long-unthought of childhood. She and Brian had taken silent solace in one another, both listening politely for a while before quietly leaving for the bridge together to enjoy one another’s companionable peace.

She focused on learning the facts as she always did. It helped to ground her in the here and now and real knowledge of the universe. She knew the vitamins and minerals required for a human child to grow well, the quantities and the various sources they could be obtained from. Ivy knew to the minute the amount of sleep needed for a child Lily’s age and that routine was apparently good for them. It especially seemed it was important to avoid Lily being allowed to become something called ‘overtired’ when small children apparently turn into some sort of armed grenade and the explosions had a myriad of options of being tearful, rage-filled or both.

Ivy wasn’t sure how the others would handle a small child that detonated like that. Then again, the first night she was with them was enough of a shock when she burst into hysterical tears over Tim and Marius being shot. That, that had been unexpected in how the others had reacted. There was a 47% chance one of them would shoot her on instinct on sheer noise alone since her cries had sounded like some sort of terrible warning siren, however, when she had appeared wailing on Jonny’s hip that chance had dropped to 7%.

Ivy had actually been surprised at the fury on the first mate’s face, she hadn’t seen him that angry since Tim had been mechanised and Carmilla had had her ‘accident’ shortly thereafter.

She had been more surprised initially at the child’s distress at Tim and Marius’ deaths, then had to remind herself that the likelihood of the child having significant trauma responses to witnessing violence were 99.9% coupled with the fact that seeing people die in her experience was a decidedly permanent event. Her ship had certainly been an event.

Ivy was not anywhere near as happy in conflict and gunfire as her crewmates but she was no shrinking violet, more like a knowing foxglove. She’d seen and perpetrated her share of horrible murder and destruction but there was something about Lily’s ship, something raw, the murder in her ship was gleeful even beyond Jonny’s most manic rampages. And Lily had been surviving in the aftermath for three full weeks.

It didn’t sit right with Ivy, it was something she was researching into since Jonny had spoken to them all about Lily’s desire for revenge when she was of age. She would find those who had wreaked havoc through Lily’s people.

So yes, Lily’s upset was more than a little understandable in hindsight. What had caught Ivy completely off guard had been that the child had sought comfort from all of them, she had assumed Jonny would remain the primary form of comfort eschewing all others with Raphaella taking a distant second place due the science officer wrangling the child into the shower. That too had been unexpected, Ivy would have thought that she was purely motivated by opportunity to make closer observations for her research which was 83% correct but the look on her face when she returned with Lily and Jonny to the mess there had been a softness on her face that had repeated after the incident with Tim and Marius.

Lily had wanted comfort from them all and everyone, everyone had complied. She had calculated the chances being 3% at the most. But everyone, even Nastya, even herself had, at the very least, held the distraught child.

Raphaella had handed her the child and she hadn’t known what to do with her but it seemed to be enough, Lily did most of the work. It had been strange having a living, breathing creature in her arms that wasn’t an octokitten, not unpleasant per se but something she was not terribly confident or comfortable with.

And Lily had realised within three days.

And presented the ‘fingertip hug’ option.

An option that Ivy took every time the child came to visit.

Ivy had begun to enjoy the child’s company over the course of the three and half months she had been with them. She came every day without fail, knocking politely and waiting to be invited inside before offering her usual greeting, finding her book and settling down on what rapidly became ‘her’ cushion. She’d beamed when Ivy gave her a bookmark after the archivist ascertained the child tried to remember the page she’d finished on and didn’t always succeed.

Every so often she would approach Ivy to ask for help with a word and its meaning. Initially Ivy had resented the interruptions to her own reading but she always answered, the child wanted knowledge after all. After a while she began to appreciate the child’s joy at each explanation, thrilled to be learning something new. Ivy realised Lily wasn’t asking to be a bother unlike the rest of her crewmates most of the time, she was asking because she genuinely wanted to learn and appreciated Ivy taking the time to tell her.

After three weeks of observed behaviour there was an 84% chance Lily had not had overtly positive experiences with adults outside of her own parents. Nothing particularly negative but the way she responded to anyone taking time to tell her anything or answering a question she asked it was clear this did not happen often nor did she expect them to engage with her as often (read: every time she asked) as they did.

Ivy resolved to be as encouraging as she could be on Lily’s search for stories and knowledge. She found her books, began to listen to the child read aloud and always helped with new or difficult words.

Lily never cuddled up to her the way she did Jonny, Brian, Marius, TS or Raphaella or the way she started to after the whole hair brushing incident with Tim. But still. She would bring her pillow near to where Ivy was reading to practice her own literacy skills.

Right now though she was faced with a very distraught looking Lily doing the fingertip hug clearly about to disintegrate.

“What’s the matter?”

“I, I want to read the story but I’m scared I’ll get tears on it by accident, because, because they, they keep escaping and I don’t want to ruin your book but I want to know the answer!”

At this point Lily did dissolve in tears.

Ivy realised that there was a 37% chance she’d never been quite as consciously terrified as she was presented with a sobbing little girl.

“Er, would you like a hug?”

Lily sobbed and tried to swallow, rubbing a sleeve across her streaming eyes, “Are, are you sure?” she wept out.

“No, but you’re clearly deeply unhappy and there is an 87% chance a hug will make you feel better and I would like to help make you feel better.”

Lily gave her the wobbliest smile Ivy had ever seen then carefully approached the archivist, waiting for Ivy’s arms to wrap around her before sinking into the safety of warm, living adult.

Ivy felt the child melt into her.

There was an unexpected warmth that bloomed in her chest. There was an 92% likelihood she was experiencing a sense of familial bonding, she quickly compared it to how she felt when working in collaboration with Raphaella on an experiment or sitting with Brian in companionable quiet on the bridge or even taking part in a satisfactory music practice with the whole crew. The feeling was remarkably similar.

That was, surprising but encouraging all the same.

She felt like she might not end up being too poor a substitute for the first mate.

She still wasn’t sure how Jonny managed this so easily though.

It was a common enough if still strange sight to see Lily limpeted to Jonny, clinging on tightly but he held her as if he’d always been doing that, as if his arms were made to hold her, like Lily was made to fit perfectly into his side. There were many, many, many things Ivy could and did criticise Jonny for but he’d taken to this with an aplomb none of them had anticipated. Even within those first few minutes Ivy could not have predicted Jonny taking hold of the child when she ran at him. Ivy had braced to witness a child die due to long-hone instincts wherein, with a chance of less than 1% Jonny hadn’t shot her, too shocked initially it seemed then some sort of buried sense of paternity reared its head from the depths. It has been fascinating to watch from a distance.

Now Ivy was experiencing something like that without the presence and dare she admit it, safety of her crewmates to take point on the interaction.

Ivy had never felt overtly comfortable around anyone since she woke up on Aurora head full of facts yet empty of memories. She found she worried often of not having the ‘right’ reactions due to her positronic brain and so limited the factors that would expose her to those situations. Books were safer, she knew what they expected from and in return there was a comforting predictability in learning.

There was very little predictable about Lily.

Well that wasn’t entirely fair. The child was kind and loving and concerned with making sure everyone felt included in whatever was happening (that spoke volumes about the child’s existing experiences with her own shipmates but that was hardly the point at present). She wanted positive attention and was thrilled to get it, she liked to hug and be physically reassured by the others after a scare or when she was being praised.

Lily, if you broke her down to her fundamentals, was not too hard to comprehend.

She wanted to be loved.

The hard part came in that the Mechanisms did not deal readily in love. None would claim to have any real solid experience, maybe Nastya and Tim but it wasn’t the same sort of familial love. Jonny was not-so-secretly a romantic at heart (though he’d shoot you if you pointed it out) but again it wasn’t the same. They were trying their best but none of them really came from loving families, those that could remember at least.

They were running of half-forgotten instincts that all adults of a species apparently carried coded into their beings from the earliest dawn of sentience.

‘Protect the young.’

Ivy, now with a sobbing Lily attached to her, felt what must be that same drive begin to stir.

A hesitant hand raised to rub carefully up and down Lily’s back.

Lily cuddled closer.

Well that must be the right approach.

Ivy continued to run her hand up and down Lily’s small back as the child cried into the archivist’s neck. After a while the tears began to slow.

“M’sorry.”

“What for?”

“For making you hug me and getting your collar all soggy.”

Well that wouldn’t do at all. Ivy might not be a fan of overt physical contact but no one made her do anything she didn’t want to.

She pulled Lily off her enough to face her, the child’s huge blue eyes looking like glowing lagoons, swimming with spilling tears.

“Now listen to me Lily, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do, not when it comes to something like this. I am comforting you because I want to and you want me to. No one can make you hug or even touch someone if you don’t want to. The other person has to want it too. I am hugging you because you want me to and I want to help you. Understand me?”

“Y”-she hiccupped-“es.”

“Good.” Ivy paused, not sure where to go from there. She sent out a desperate burst of data requests trying to grasp any suggestions that might help.

The image of Lily sitting on Jonny’s lap at the mess table when she first joined them. Lily sat on Brian’s lap on the bridge asking him hundreds of questions about music and stars. Lily perched on Raphaella’s lap frowning in concentration as she practices plaiting her long golden waves. Lily tucked up on Marius’ lap between his violin and bow arm, humming along with the tunes he played. Lily settled on Tim’s lap smiling as the gunner carefully brushed her wild mop of tangles smooth.

Each time Lily was settled and safe and happy.

“Would, would you like to sit on my lap and I’ll read the rest of the story to you? That way we won’t risk you getting the book damp.”

Lily’s face lit up in a blinding smile.

Clearly that was the right thing to offer.

“Alright then, let’s go get the book.”

Ivy took Lily’s hand because that was also clearly the thing to do in this situation, she’d seen Lily hold hands with the others when heading somewhere together and the child had asked to hold her hand the first time she came to the library. That was bound to help comfort her.

Lily clung to her hand like a lifeline.

Ivy took in the sight of the neat spot Lily usually occupied, cushions in a tidy pile and her book in its proper place on the shelf.

Even upset she’d respected the books.

Ivy felt her chest flood with warmth.

“Alright then,” she picked up the title in question, settled comfortably in the nest of pillows that had accumulated then gestured to Lily, “come on Liliput, get comfortable.”

Lily stared at her.

Ivy stared right back, shocked at the name that had slipped from her so easily.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s the name of a town where people live whom Gulliver visits during his travels, they’re very small but kind to him.”

“Who’s Gulliver?”

“Lemuel Gulliver is the protagonist of Jonathan Swift’s adventure story ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ he’s an explorer who sails across the Oceans of Earth—”

“That’s Tim’s home planet isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Did Tim meet him?”

Ivy smiled at the question. “No, Gulliver wasn’t a real person, his story is also set roughly 500 years before Tim’s time.”

Lily considered, Ivy could see the numbers totting up in the child’s mind.

“That’s a lot.” she offered finally.

“Yes it is.”

“So he was a made up adventurer?”

“And explorer. He sailed to different islands to meet different civilisations.”

“Ooh. Did he not have a spaceship?”

“No this story was set before spaceships had been invented.”

“Oh. A VERY long, long ago then?”

“Yes.”

“Can I read it next?”

“Yes, I can find you a copy.”

Lily sniffed. “Thank you, you’re the best.” Declared Lily earnestly.

Ivy smiled again, honestly touched by the sincerity.

“Thank you. Now do you want to sit down and finish this story?”

“Yes please!”

Lily needed no more encouragement, she settled into Ivy’s lap as though she’d always been there, leaning against Ivy’s chest letting out a satisfied sigh. Ivy smelled of paper, of warm leather and the comfort of stories to be told. It was rare she got this close to Ivy, Lily savoured it as much as she could, it was very different to the rest of them, to Jonny or Marius or Raphaella but it was just as nice, just as a part of her sense of safety as every other scent of them was.

Paper, wood, resin, wild flowers, leather, cordite, oil, wool, resin, tea, smoke, spice and whiskey

It was home.

Ivy’s breath caught, she wasn’t sure how she expected it to feel having Lily in her lap, uncomfortable? Awkward? Something that she’d have to endure?

What she wasn’t expecting was a strange sense of satisfaction. There was a warmth that took root in her, the impression that what she was doing was good and right and helping.

Ivy decided to calculate the average improvements Lily had made to the crew’s individual well beings later when she could consider all the data she’d observed and listened to. Right now though, she had a story to read.

Ivy read out the voices of the characters as she heard them in her own head when she’d read the story the first time herself much to Lily’s apparent delight. Encouraged she continued adding the dramatic emphasis drawing thrilled but ever-sleepier responses from Lily until the child fell asleep three chapters from the end.

Ivy smiled with the contentment of a job well done. She had done it. Lily had come to her wanting help and she’d been able to provide that well enough that the child had gone back to sleep, happy and obviously feeling secure.

Children tended to only sleep on people they trusted. She’d read it in one of the few human child rearing books she’d found.

The archivist was deeply proud of herself.

And now Lily was asleep she could take a closer look at the fluffy thing that the little girl was clutching as she listened.

An emerald or copper oxidised geode of some kind rendered in a fluffy fabric with embroidered eyes.

Ivy felt another smile slowly bloom across her face as she realised what it was.

Jonny.

So that was what he’d been up to.

She’d caught him trying to sneak out of the library a few times two months, three weeks and five, four and two days ago, only refraining from blowing his head off because of the likelihood if she did it would be a night Lily needed comforting and she did not want to have to deal with the emotional fallout that mess would wrought.

She’d let him go once he proved he wasn’t trying to smuggle books out with him and upon investigation of her shelves the books he’d been looking at (not quite put back exactly where they belonged but he’d apparently tried) focused minerals and geology, she’d wondered want on earth he’d been up to since seeking knowledge, or reading in general was not his go-to activity.

This was apparently it.

Making an accurate depiction of a geode to render in fluff as a comfort toy for an orphaned little girl. Ivy knew Lily was interested in stones, she’d brought back half the lakeshore from their first planet visit. Several of them kept appearing around Aurora with googly or painted on eyes and smiley faces. One of the smaller, lighter, flatter ones had found their way into Brian’s hat band for a while.

But this? Taking an active interest and trying to make something accordingly? Jonny was apparently full of surprises. It was a side of him Ivy had suspected existed based on her centuries of observation but it was something he guarded fiercely as though having a soft side was some sort of shameful secret. Same went for the rest of the crew. Though, yet again, the rest of the crew also made a point not to be known for their abundance of gentleness or thoughtfulness. Except Brian and TS, (and Marius but 50% of the time he was trying to get a rise of people as well).

Until recently.

Until Lily.

Whose presence apparently was tacit permission to be kinder, not just with her because that was expected, she was a child, an innocent child they’d ended up responsible for and whilst they didn’t really know what they were doing they weren’t actual monsters in this regard, they had at a passing acquaintance with decency sometimes so they were trying to look after her as ‘properly’ as they could.

And they all did look out for each other too, always undercover of insult or secrecy-no one would ever admit to doing something nice after all but now? Well, their behaviour around Lily was clearly affecting their day-to-day interactions. Murder had been reduced to a minimum especially during ‘daylight’ hours and they’d found other, more constructive ways to harness their energies, non-lethal pranks were happening far more regularly and were being met with amused annoyance rather than murderous rage. Not to mention they’d managed to put the Verdant Hood story cycle together in record time, she was rather looking forward to performing that one. It was amazing how much more practice you could manage when you didn’t have to wait for your lead singer to regrow his bullet-punctured lungs or your string/percussion/piano players to re-grow shot-off fingers.

Ivy reflected on the status of the crew; there was a contentment that was slowly becoming apparent that had been lacking for several centuries, it was unexpected but pleasant all the same. She was going to enjoy analysing her calculations and collecting more data from the regular interactions she’d been taking part in. Breakfast and Dinner especially as sit down meals weren’t uncommon before Lily but they were now a daily occurrence, Ivy tried to remember to attend at least one meal per day, her crewmates could be intolerably loud a lot of the time but it was pleasant to talk to them sometimes.

And she enjoyed the growing sense of camaraderie rather than simple tolerance.

Thinking of.

She should probably contact Jonny.

Lily, whilst the weight of her on Ivy’s lap was comforting in a way the archivist had not been expecting it was not fair to allow the child to sleep in this position all night. The books on child growth encouraged lots of sleep but she doubted they meant in laps of immortal space pirates.

That hadn’t stopped Lily in the slightest but it still wasn’t good for her.

Ivy typed a message on her communicator, not wanting to risk waking the child.

‘Jonny, Lily is in the library with me. Please come and collect.-Ivy’

There wasn’t much else she could do but wait, idly glancing back through her data files to check her inventory of books suitable for Lily and adding the note that she wanted to read Gulliver’s Travellers next. She wondered if Tim had read the book as a boy since he’d started availing himself of her collection several months ago upon learning she had some of his childhood favourites.

Twenty-nine minutes later a sleep-drunk, bleary-eyed Jonny came stumbling into the library.

Ivy had to force herself not to startle.

She’d never seen him look so thoroughly, relaxedly, rumpled.

She’d seen him drunk to incoherence and passing out mid-sentence. She’d seen him sleep-deprived, strung-out furious and exhausted to the point he just shut down and dropped where he stood (usually because he’d been refusing to sleep due to the nightmares he definitely didn’t experience) whenever that happened, rare as it was, Brian usually picked him up and carried him off to dump the first mate into bed.

(Although, knowing Brian it was more like he tucked him in carefully but neither of them would ever admit it)

She’d seen him nursing the sire of all hangovers across the multiverse, losing the ability to speak any recognised language of which he, like the rest of them, actually knew several.

But, she realised with a start, she’d never seen him just honestly sleepy, ‘Woken-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-working-on-about-20%-operating-capacity-I-need-to-do-something-but-I-am-on-autopilot’ sleepy.

He wasn’t dressed for any kind of engagement either. No gun, nor holster, not even a belt. Make up cleaned off his face wearing just a plain dark t-shirt, fabric greyed and worn with age and black drawstring trousers.

Pyjamas.

Jonny D’Ville was wearing honest-to-goodness to pyjamas.

He made his way over to Lily’s corner apparently instinctively, nodded at Ivy with a grateful half-smile, his face, already unguarded softened even more when he took in the sight of Lily, curled up against Ivy, one hand holding on to her waistcoat the other clinging to Gemini who was smushed up against her own chest.

Ivy found herself not daring to breathe whilst she watched to retrieval take place.

He scooped up the sleeping child with a practiced ease, Lily immediately settling against him like she lived there, barely even stirring.

Jonny’s hand lingered on Ivy’s a moment, squeezing it gently, “’anks f’lookin’after her.” before wrapping his arms more securely around Lily, taking his leave back towards his bunk.

Ivy’s stare followed the two of them long after they’d left her Library.

Well.

That. That was one of the most unexpected sights she had witnessed on board.

She’d never witnessed Jonny appear so utterly vulnerable, without his usual brashness, his loud swaggering and even louder gunshots Jonny was- Jonny was young realised Ivy, probably younger than her when he was mechanised. She did some swift calculations and didn’t like her conclusions.

Well that made an uncomfortable amount of sense. Trying to seem bigger and badder than everyone else was probably a learned trait now she thought about it, forever twenty? That’s quite difficult to make people listen to you off the bat, even if you’ve got centuries or millennia under your many belts.

That Jonny was actually comfortable enough to appear like that offered two explanations, one he was starting to actually relax enough around people to allow his softer side more public outings and two, he was just so exhausted by all the nightmare duty he’d been pulling along with having to process actual emotions he was simply spent beyond all care or consideration.

It was probably a mix of both.

Ivy allowed herself a pleased smile, partially because she was glad the first mate was clearly getting something positive out of this caretaker role he’d accidentally stepped into three and a half months ago and partially because she had excellent blackmail material to use to get first editions from the next twenty planets they visited.

She sighed, she was enjoying this mellowing of her crewmates interactions, though not enough to be entirely alienating but just enough to take some of the edges off, it was nice knowing that a request for people to please shut the fuck up for five minutes was less likely to earn you a bullet to the head. There was a rare peace that was becoming a little more common and helped draw her out of the library a little more regularly and that was something she felt she could live with.

The chances of a child being a uniting factor for group cohesion and to reduce the levels of ship-destructive violence would have been at a 0.001% if you’ve asked Ivy four months ago but now? Whilst she absolutely could not have predicted it she was very glad Jonny had been too shocked to react with violence back on Lily’s ship, the archivist found she quite liked having another bibliophile on board, it might be what it would have been like to have had a younger sibling. Ivy paused, considering. That fit. Having a younger person to encourage and help shape, not a parent, certainly not, but possibly another familial bond?

Quite possibly.

92% in fact.

#The Mechanisms #the mechanisms fanfic #Lily Of-Many-Names #ivy alexandria #jonny d'ville #the mechanisms fanart #Night Terrors Chapter 6

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grim-faux · 3 years

Text

2 _ 8 _ Snipping Cables

First

Lately, he’s had some regrets.

Perhaps that was a tad dramatic. Keeping attendance of the child hadn't been the labor it was prior, before the boy really got it in his head that he was not to stray too far, or not dawdle so much on inconsequential trinkets. There came lapses, but he didn't need to strain concentration on the transmission so tersely.

The residence elected to offer the child rest was perfectly eroded, though more spacious than the majority that was not a store or carried endless supplies. Aside from the wind and enduring mist of rain, little of the harsh elements breached the innermost walls. A few outer rooms sat available for use, but he chose centered accommodations with a table and chair set. The kitchen offered little in edibles, but the child seemed to think it was the best space to spend his time. When he wasn’t pestering the Thin Man. Furniture and fringe shadows settled where the sporadic reach of light wouldn’t venture, and the usual decayed pieces of scraps abandoned by the previous occupants remained faithful to the end of days.

A few television deserted within, likely afforded the escape to those occupants. If the clothing strewn on furniture was anything to go by. While Mono was having an explore, he dumped the devices out a window. He didn’t mind utilizing televisions for travel, but he remained uneasy leaving the child alone in their presence.

“Ban-dahge.”

The Thin Man flipped a page on the magazine he browsed through and cast an eye toward the child. Following the usual scout through some room, the boy lifted a container of crayons. But no paper. That would have been fine and well, if not for the discarded packages in the kitchen. Mono tore apart paper and cardboard, on the salvaged bits he did speek. Why didn’t he just do the speek on walls? There was no shortage of space.

“Box.” Mono shuffled around the page he worked at, choosing another color. “Cer-ate.” He mumbled some jumbled sounds under his breath, as he crouched down and really got involved with the picture.

“You are quite the artist,” the Thin Man muttered. Many passages in the magazine lay unintelligible, but it was more of a distraction in place of the televisions. When he plucked out the very breezy movement, he took a breath and steeled himself.

A torn bit of cardboard popped above the horizon of the magazine he perused. “Road. See?”

The Thin Man exhaled. “Yes. I can see that. An endless road.” When the colorful collage dipped out of sight, he lowered his book. Mono was muttering something to himself studying the image as if he never saw it before. Ever. When he noted the Thin Man’s attention, he held up the picture and pointed to the boarder.

“Build-eegs.” He blinked beneath the edge of his hat.

“Buildings. It looks just like every other scenery in this drab city.”

“In. Th’z.” He pushed up his hat and moved a little closer to the magazine. “Drab? T’drab? Is mean?”

“Unremarkable. Ugly. Boring.” The Thin Man pressed his magazine further away, to stall the child’s advance.

“Un-re-mark-Ible. Bor-eng. Boring.” The child continued murmuring to himself, as he tottered back over to his stacks of cardboard and miscolored paper pieces. He stooped low on his knees and resumed marking at a piece, the speek of endless road and buildings forgotten for the time.

Sighing, the lamp in the corner flickering, the Thin Man kneaded his brow. This had been going on for Hours. He peered beyond the edge of his reading, inspecting discarded pictures of mundane things. A mailbox, a tree. Buildings and buildings. A broken staircase. Inconsequential and unrelated little pictures, and many more. Each and every one he had to inspect, twice, sometimes four times over. At one point a Tower existed in the fray, but without a word the Thin Man delivered the child such a look, that the boy took the likeness and tore it to bits. The remnants lay on the floor, beneath the table.

“So… mu-tch. Big. Then go.”

He flipped through a few pages in the magazine, until he reached an uncorrupt segment. He winced, and looked up. The child was back, a new picture offering. “That’s a bridge.”

“To… go?” The child indicated one end of the bridge. It was a bridge with no real scenery or location to set it’s placement. “Over. Is where?”

Forget Her trying to teach him speek. Mono insisted on butchering every syllable. Why was he like this?

He brought a hand to his face. “Where? Where does the bridge go? I don’t know. You tell me.”

Mono fixed his hat and gave him a look. “Is go?”

“Where? Does the bridge go? It goes somewhere, yes?”

The child set down the cardboard piece and took a moment to pluck at the splinters in his palm. “Mm. Bridge. T’go…. Is.” He held his hands parted out. “Cross. Danger. T’danger, in deep.” He pantomimed an area beneath the two polar sides of his bridge. “Safe.” He brought his hands back up, parted. “Goes n’to. Is safe.”

He understood what the child inferred, but…. “‘Safe’ isn’t a grounded location.”

“N’to. Is.”

Was he being messed with? “No. On that note, what if there was a creature at one end? Hmm? Not so safe now, is it?” Mono’s expression flickered. Aw, he hadn’t considered such a scenario. What a pity.

The Thin Man leaned back in the chair and held the magazine up. This was all likely overlooked by the child, as he once more scampered away to his repurposed pages. The scratching wound up, while the small boy worked at another picture. The Thin Man restrained a groan. H̴͕̬̟͆̽̔Ō̸̼̓͗U̷̹̠͒R̶̰̃S̴͍̮̾̇̈.

Passive mumbling rolled from the child, intermixed with the dragging crayon. “Dress. Er. Dresser. Chair. Smo-k. No. Room. Chair. Win-dowe.” He spun the page. “Re-sip-or-cant. Re-cip-or-cate? Mean?”

The child reared off his picture and flapped one of the paper pieces. “Mean? T’speek? Big speek?”

The Thin Man took a long and agonized breath. “Not return. A gift. Or help. Mean… if I helped you, then you ran off. Or something.” He couldn’t see the child, but he could sense the gears turning in his head.

“Food?”

Sigh. “Are you hungry?” Again.

“Share. Recip. Rerr-sip-orate. Recip-o-ate.”

“RE-Cip-Ro-Cate.”

“Re-cip-row-cate.”

The Thin Man set aside his magazine and stood from the chair. A while back he thought of shutting the doors to the dining area, though they were glass, and he didn’t need them blown out by a small uncontrollable projectile. Instead, he sauntered through the main room and to the corridor, which led out of the residence.

“Where?” peeped behind him.

He stopped at the door and looked back. The child was there, looking very serious and prepared for the venture. “No-no, you stay here.”

Mono tugged the sides of his coat. “Not safe n'go,” he rasped.

“Indeed.” He turned around and leaned lower to the child. “It will be dangerous, out there. You must stay here, and I won’t be gone long.” Reaching out, he tipped the child’s hat back an inch and poked his nose. “Keep this place safe, won’t you?”

The child did appear a little distressed. At least he didn’t flinch from his hand, but he might’ve been distracted. “N’together. S’safe. Two.”

“Not for you. Now, do as I say.”

The child retreated a step and nodded.

“You will be fine. Safe is in here.” The Thin Man returned to the door and stepped out. As always, the door is not locked following his departure, but he does insure the warped frame is fitted securely.

This was rest time for the child, but it was difficult to settle him in from the wandering and endless surveying for hazards. If the Thin Man removed himself for a while, then the boy was more prone to curl up in his dark little space - out of sight out of mind. It was no bother for the Thin Man to put up in some deserted home for a while, if his charge needed to rifle for some edibles or get off his feet. The problem was this insistent being up and around at every waking minute, blatantly refusing to sleep, then collapsing in a desolate road. Then! having the nerve to act like it was a complete mystery why he blacked out.

Nonetheless, he would have to brace himself for the bombardment of pictures and explanation when he returned. It would be best not to think of that.

It was indeed dangerous to venture to a neighboring building, where the television units remained active. This was no lie. Relocating to a place far distant from the Viewers was no difficult feat – for him, that is. A bare room housing a few televisions, the chatter of flat melodies intermingling. Nothing to think about, and no creature demanding his attention. In gaunt space of null, he was content.

No benefit came through drowning his time in the static transmission. It influenced him in no way, he was not enamored by its call or demands. The static was familiar, perpetual and infinite. Somehow peaceful, despite his penance in the Tower, lost in the despair. The bitter resentment, and how he was so easily discarded. How badly it hurt. How little he understood. He was so utterly... done.

As typical when he returned to the residency, he made certain to bring back some treat for the child. A little jar of food paste, a token of amity. This was enough.

The child was pleased enough to receive the item. And, after untangling from the typical debacle of ‘no, I really don’t want that,’ the boy carried the container around the rooms and nibbled out the contents. It kept him preoccupied for a while, allowing the Thin Man to browse through a few pamphlets and other items he’d plucked up on the fly.

Following his return, he was a little concerned that the child lingered, peering around a corner, observing as the Thin Man sought to busy himself with distractions. He ignored this, and instead went to a window to have a smoke and go through a book. It was a cookbook of all things, but more engaging than the catalog on engines he’d had the misfortune of investing the scarce quiet into. He had some stake in finding information about the Tower, about its origins and theories. Alas, thus far no readings had elaborated a smidgen on its purpose.

Aside from being a massive headache.

Then there was the headache of the child, being persistent at being underfoot. He almost missed the pictures he ceased providing.

The entire drama was grating on his nerves, he was going to step on the boy if he wasn’t expertly cautious. He usually was. The issue now was a child that was constantly on his heels, appearing out of nowhere – teleporting he suspected – just to be RIGHT THERE. Darting in, and keeping close whenever he wanted to relocate to a room or get away. If he wasn’t keeping strict vigil at every pause or turn, the child just was Ṭ̶̖͈͍̒h̶̹̬͆ȅ̵̦͉̬r̶̘̜̈̈̆̋ȩ̸̫͉̱̑̎. He didn’t understand this sport, he's certain Mono did it to be a nuisance. It reached the point where he anticipated the child’s presence and then physically relocated him, a shelf or cabinet. Some out of the way location, where the child would be forced to pause and judge where to go before engaging all over. Enough time for him to reach a room and just… take a breather. Or leave. Then the child had the audacity to give him the most offended look.

This didn’t compare to the child’s tendency of resting near or curled up on him. He’d thought the boy was broken of the habit, apparently, he was wrong.

Most circumstances he could get up, take the child, and set him in his usual nest spot. A dresser in a random room, a hole in the floor, the kitchen - set him down without a bother in the world. Effortless. He envied how the boy could just… slumber without a care, and he could deal with that.

Not always though.

“Mono.” The Thin Man wanted to sit and read, let the drilling ache of the light burn out his eyes. Then, there was the child. Latched onto his coat. He did not want that excessive needling in his side. “Stop. L̶̥͕̾͌ě̸̺t̶͓.̷̥̔͒ͅ ̸͈̘̑G̸̘̅̚o̷͈̝̾̈́.̵̥̙͋̿” The boy was not deterred, maybe still half asleep. Where did this strength come from? “M̴̛͇ỏ̶̧̠̿n̸̨͌̆̎o̵͕̾̇!̷̛̬̎̽̀”

“Nuhh!”

“We've been over this.” He tried prying the hands loose, but his other hand was preoccupied with keeping most of the child extracted. The bulb in the lamp burst a while back, when he was first dealing with this dilemma. “What have I said?”

“N’t un… leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Lie—” When finally ripped loose of his coat, the child coiled about his wrist with his arms and legs, constricting. “Caught.”

The Thin Man can’t believe this. “No. I am in the process of liberating my person from this nuisance. Why? Why are you like this?”

“Aye… mmhh. N’t—” He gave a little yelp, quite loud actually, when the Thin Man gripped at his waist and tried tearing him loose. But gently.

“What is the problem? Just tell me! I have no plans of leave, I assure you.” His next ploy was wriggle his fingers between his sleeve and the chest. “Frustrating little….”

“Nhn… not alone. N’have… keep. But th’n gone, wh-un sh’uld stay.” The child doubled down on his embrace, his current hat falling. “N'haunt! Am lost… M’alone. S’t nuh good. Sad! Not have yuh. You. G’t lost. Lost! M’lost. T’h… wa’r mon-st’EER. N’took! Run! M’was run-Ing. Not to fin’d—”

“You know what, never mind! Mono! E̷͔̞͆n̵͎̝̐͘o̴̪̊̕u̴͓͂̈g̵̡̖̐h̶͕͚͐!̶̥͉͒͠” He looped his fingers around the child’s shoulder and tugged. “D̷̨͈͋̌̉̈͜ǫ̷̛̪̂̔̓.̸̨̜̳̞̇͋̀͘ ̴͍͈̄̃͊͗A̸̛̻͗̓̔s̵͚̹͚̊̓̚͜.̵̨͖̳̼̃̋̊͘ ̶̢̻̙͐̿̊̊Ỉ̴͚̞̈́.̶̤̈͋̃͝ ̵̳͍̘S̵̞̘̪̬̓̀̊̎â̵̧̱͒ÿ̷̡̨̲́̓!̷͇̔͝” The child gave a muffled squeal. “Stop!”

“Sa’id keep! N’t uhn leave! For-feet!”

“You first!” The child bit into his sleeve, and the Thin Man settled him with a glare. Biding time to study this scene, and the small thing latched tight like a tick. “How long do you think you’ll keep this up?” For emphasis, he tugged at the collar of the child’s coat. As expected, the boy coiled up tighter, his glare just as intense. “I do not sleep, child.” Mono hissed.

This stalemate endured for an hour at least. The child’s resolve and ferocity was something to be admired, but all the Thin Man need do was sit and keep his arm elevated. No matter the tenacity or vigor, Mono was still child and his reserves at their limits. At long last and after an unrelenting hold on the child’s collar, Mono’s grip slackened. Not entirely, but enough that he could pull the boy clear from his arm.

Before the child could recover and reassert his super adhesive hold, the Thin Man resituated his stance in a glitchy flash. He set the boy onto the floor and teleported beyond the entry of his current lodgings, well out of range should his pursuer attempt to catch up.

“Hai.” Mono fumbled to get upright and onto his feet, but he was out of sorts with his knotted muscles. He managed two steps under the table before he collapsed to his knees. Bones and nerves alike buzzed, he could scarcely feel his toes. “Wait?” Unable to coordinate himself, he scooted up beneath one of the chairs and peered out.

At best it only worked to let the child wear himself out. Now liberated from the smaller, the Thin Man could relocate to one of the spare rooms. If the boy came snooping around, he would simply stall time and flicker out. One certainty, he would not have the luxury to be still for some while. But whatever, he spent the better part of his life seated and waiting for… anything. Something.

He stood beside the cracked window in the room furthest from the dining setup, breathing smoke and remembering the Tower. Lost to his isolation and languishing within the miasma of grim thoughts, left with only memories of what led to his self-imposed contrition. Sometimes he hid under the chair, wallowing and inconsolable. He never went far. As idiotic as it would sound, it became his home. He had no more wants, no more fears – though he was never happy either. How could he? Though refuge was granted, he had nothing and no one else in all the world. He remained because she discarded him, and the Tower encased him with its impenetrable walls of cynicism.

When at his weakest, the Eyes would appear. To check on him, make certain he had not left them. They did nothing to assure his attendance, nothing short of keeping a room that was his and his alone. Every time they resurfaced, he simply sent them away.

It was his chore to remind them, they could not, and shall never look at him. If they wanted to use him, then they could not bother him. Not watch, nor think about him. Just as he had limitations of what could be tolerated, they had restrictions of what could be done to him. They had plenty to seek through the transmitter devices and televisions, and then he gave them more. But he could not be reminded they would always be there, waiting. Endlessly hungry.

The child is only this way because he does not know any better. He never saw the depths of that horrendous pit. Never once saw what was to be his fate, abandoned to endlessly waiting. Continue the cycle. Seek your younger, replace yourself when you have outlived usefulness. Always and perpetually discarded and forgotten. When he first came to that place and that room, buried deep inside a tomb and isolated from the world, it was his fate alone. Not until much-much-much later did he realize the truth. The boy would never understand, could never grasp the reality of their twisted existence. He was yet only child – naïve, sheltered, and excessively needy.

When the boy managed to sort himself out, the Thin Man would be inclined to let his guard down. It was discouraging that his younger-self was prone to relapse, but it was some facet to keep attention on. Such moods would pass, they always did.

#little nightmares #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #mono #the thin man #the man in the hat #thin dad #reluctant thin dad #fanfic #fanfiction #the tall thin man

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krispydefendorpolice · 4 years

Text

Once Upon A Miraculous - Part 2

Ok before we even get into the story here’s yet another warning to think twice before you continue. Jason dies. He dies in a gruesome, traumatizing event and even though I think I went over it very lightly I still think it’s pretty fucking graphic. I’m the writer and I. Had. To. Fucking. Stop. And take a break before I could continue with the story.

Violence and the results it can have on the body ahead. Madness from the pit and angst from hurt feeling of being replaced ahead. For the last time. You’ve all been warned so read at your own risk.

I’m going to trust that you all know your headspace well enough and for those that choose to read anyways? Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope the falls between here and the end are worth the river journey and the lake we reach at the end (yes those are f*ing metaphors. I’m feeling philosophical at the moment)

Previous Masterpost list

————————————

“It’s me Nettie. I’m alive”

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

Jason was 14 years old when he met the Batman. He came across an unwatched batmobile. The tires on it could be sold for more than the average car and he had the tools on him.

One last check and he got to work. He was already thinking about the things he could buy for himself and his street siblings that he forgot the number one rule. Always keep a lookout.

The Batman caught him red handed with three wheels off and the fourth half done. After being forced to return the wheels to the car Jason was taken to the underground batcave. He met Alfred and the unmasked Batman. Bruce “fucking billionaire” Wayne.

Less than a month later he’s living in the manor and has been “adopted”. He doesn’t trust it. Rich men don’t want son’s and there are too many kids with stories about the horrors that “nice family’s” hide behind closed doors. But he’s got a roof over his head and food in his stomach. If Wayne thinks that will be enough to buy him he’s going to find out how wrong he was.

Jason starts small at first. If he can just get the man angry enough to throw him out he won’t have to worry about being brought back. Setting all the alarms in the house and making them unfixable was a bit of a challenge. Seeing Bruce’s face when he changed the passwords was brilliant.

It continued that way for a few months until Bruce finally decided if Jason was gonna be a little shit he could learn to fight better instead. Jason decided that if he was going to learn to fight he would take over the abandoned Robin role too.

Dick was not happy. The first time Jason got to meet the man was after he was seen as Robin. He came to the manor and yelled at Bruce, saying he had no right to give his costume and name to someone else. Jason listened from the second story.

As angry as the two men got neither came to blows over it. Dick ended the fight by storming out and he put the older hero on radio silence for months after but neither had any injuries from their disagreement. If Jason had ever even looked at his old man funny as a kid he would have a black eye and welts on his back to show for it.

Maybe Bruce could be trusted after all?

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

At 15 years old Bruce is engaged to Selina Kyle. Their on again off again thing as hero and thief where they danced around each other had been driving Jason and Alfred batty. It was nice to see them actually settle into their thing as each challenged the other and kept them on their toes.

When Selina said she was going to be spending the summer with the daughter of an old schoolmate of hers Jason didn’t think much of it. He knew she had a legit degree she used to assess the potential spoils of her criminal activities.

He arrived at Wayne Enterprises a little early for their lunch meeting. Bruce had told him they’d meet in the lobby so after greeting the receptionists he looked for a place to sit. In one of the chairs facing the doors a small girl looked up at the windows before going back to her book and writing something. No she was probably drawing with long pencil strokes like that.

Curious he walked over to see if he could look at her drawing. He could see what looked like an image of the stained glass windows on the page but the lines through them gave it a softer, almost flowing shape. Which was weird cause glass wouldn’t follow those lines.

“What are you drawing?” He found himself asking her.

She jumped so he’d obviously surprised her. His thoughts were captured by her bright blue eyes. In the light coming from those stained glass windows she’d been admiring they almost seemed to glow.

She said she was designing a dress while she waited for her guardian and the fiancé to return. This must be Selina’s friends daughter.

Lunch was a fun affair where the girl shared she would be designing costumes for Jagged stone to wear during his concert tour this summer. She would stay with Selina in Gotham from Monday to Thursday while she designed and created clothes she would fly to whatever city Jagged was playing in from Thursday to Sunday to be on hand during the concerts for any costume repairs that would be needed.

Bruce volunteered Jason to show Marinette around the city since it wouldn’t be safe for her to be alone. Jason agrees because it’s summer break and he likes the Marinette he talked stained glass windows with and wonders what other beauty she will see in his dark city.

He is breathless by the beauty she sees all around her. The joy and happiness she shines as easily as she breathes. Everyone she meets becomes a new friend. Even the tamer of the Rogues and the Siren’s who meet her are enthralled by her smile and her charm.

Kissing her was a completely spontaneous action. He had thought about it for weeks by then but she had said there was a guy back home she sort of still had a crush on though she wasn’t happy with how they wanted to deal with the liar situation. So he was resigned to keeping his budding feelings to himself so that he could see her happy.

It had been the night of the last concert. Jagged had Marinette come on stage where he officially introduced her as his designer and the creator of all the tour costumes to the world. She had beamed with a smile so wide that when she threw herself into Jason’s arms after walking off stage he had just pulled back and placed a kiss on her lips.

He froze when he realized what he did. Marinette had stood on her tiptoe to start their second kiss.

For a week they were blissfully happy and free with their affection. Multiple paparazzi got pictures of them holding hands, kissing each other or just cuddling when they were waiting. Jasonette and the Sunshine of Gotham blew up on social media.

Saying goodbye to her was a really hard thing to do. So Jason went shopping for something he could give her to remember him by. They had decided they would try a long distance thing but he was afraid it wouldn’t be enough. If they did fall apart from distance he wanted something she could use to always fondly remember the summer fling they had.

It was perfect. He knew it might be impractical but he was convinced that it would be the perfect gift for her someday.

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

They made it work. They had talked everyday and he spent every chance he could in France with her. He met her parents and they met Bruce as well. Marinette had her school situation resolved following her return.

He was proud of her for sticking up for herself when all her classmates seemed ready to abandon the liar just because Marinette had a connection they could use again. Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka were all artsy like Marinette and he could see how their creative energies inspired each other and themselves.

He was a week away from his departure to spend the summer in France with Marinette and her family when it happened. A false lead led to his capture by the Joker.

(Begin Angst)

The first break hurt but it was bearable. He had broken bones before. His bio dad had broken them frequently when he was still alive. The fifth hurt as bad. He also had a concussion and several burns at that time as well.

What felt like days, weeks, years... minutes?, passed in a haze as he jerked with every new hit. He was a mess from vomit, blood, piss and shit when his body couldn’t follow his commands any longer.

He held to the belief that Batman would come for him. That his father could still save him.

When the Joker left, Jason was lying on the concrete floor looking at the bomb countdown. He knew he had to get out of there, he pushed his battered body past the point he could feel pain and struggled to the door. He pulled on it but it wouldn’t open. The rattle of chains on the other side told him why.

He collapsed to the floor, tears streaming as he watched the numbers countdown.

10, 9, 8...

I’m sorry Alfred.

7, 6, 5,...

I’m sorry Bruce.

4, 3,...

I’m sorry Nettie.

2, 1,

I love...

(End Angst)

He was only 16. He would never see 17.

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

It was dark. It was small. It was hard to breathe. He was in some kind of box. He screamed and hit the walls around him trying to get out, trying to find some air.

It surprised him when cold pieces fell from above him. It had a new smell. He focused his determination on that spot. More of the new thing came down into his cage. He pushed it away from him and continued. There. Briefly a breath of clean, fresh air.

With new determination he pushed harder towards the life giving air. He was able to pull his head and shoulders out of the box. He rested for a moment swallowing greedy gulps of air into his starved lungs. When he was able to continue he pulled himself from the ground and looked around. As far as his eye could see were stones standing from the ground around him and beyond those trees and underbrush fading into shadows.

He picked a direction at random and began to walk.

It was familiar. Grab an item, run. The actions came without conscious memory. The streets were cold but he was big enough to scare off the worst of the predators. There were a few small people, kids, that came to him for protection from the bigger people. He did what he could but it never seemed to be enough he thought, as he stood over another small, broken body.

“I can give you a way to protect them.”

He looked up. She was beautiful but her eyes were cold. Empty and unfeeling. But she had promised to give him a way to protect the little ones. He was willing to try anything for that power.

What was his name? How old was he? He didn’t know.

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

Jason.

He remembered his name as he lunged from the sickly green waters that Talia had led him to. He remembered Bruce, his father, but he didn’t save him from the Joker. He remembered the Jokers laughter ringing in his ears as he stood over another broken child on the streets. And the new shadow following the shape of the Batman when he was an amnesiac wandering the streets of Gotham.

He had been REPLACED!! He fumed. The anger and resentment over Bruces inability to save him, to avenge him and his replacing him as if Jason meant nothing, festered and boiled in his mind.

When he left the League of Shadows his only plan was to go back to Gotham and get revenge for his own death and to hurt his so called father as badly as he could. If Jason meant so little to him then he would show how little Bruce meant to him.

(Mild violence ahead)

Their first reunion was in a fight over drug dealers selling heroin to kids. Jason looked directly at the bat, pulled his gun and shot the dealers in the forehead.

(Violence over)

“These are my streets now. I won’t tolerate kids getting hurt on my watch.”

He disappeared before Batman could restrain him.

For weeks they danced around. Batman trying to catch him and Jason using every trick he learned from the Bat himself to avoid him.

Blood flowed freely from the wicked and the corrupt. He was a villain in his own right bringing judgement and execution down upon the criminals of Gotham.

Batman always appealed to the better side of him, to stop his madness. Didn’t he understand that part died? The child that trusted in heroes to protect the innocent died at the hands of a monster. A monster that his father couldn’t chase away.

The RedHood was risen from the pits and unleashed upon the evil of Gotham.

He was 18 years old.

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

Months of their back and forth dynamic between RedHood and Batman passed. The Batman couldn’t arrest the RedHood but the RedHood couldn’t stop tweaking his cape to get a reaction.

Didn’t he care? Wasn’t he going to stop him? He was doing everything wrong so why wouldn’t Bruce do the same for him that he did for all the other criminals in Gotham?

It was when Jason had the Joker at the business end of a gun that he got his answers.

“Don’t do it Hood,” Bruce pleaded. “It will change you beyond what you can come back from if you do.”

“I’ve already killed, B,” his words caught as he gasped, fighting back tears of rage. “My hands are dripping in blood.

He laughed madly then, “‘Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?’ Who knew that bitch knew what she was talking about.”

“It’s the madness that’s done it Hood. You’ve barely held control before. But you’re fighting the killing urge and directing it to those that do deserve it.”

“And yes,” he interrupted before Jason could argue, “no one deserves it more than Joker for what he’s done to you. But if you do it then the madness will win. Please I can’t lose my son again,” he begged.

“WHY DOES THAT MATTER NOW?!” Jason screamed. “He killed me. I was dead in the ground and you let him walk. WHY COULDN’T YOU KILL HIM?! AM I THAT MEANINGLESS TO YOU!?!!”

“I COULDN’T!” Bruce yelled back. “If I killed him I wouldn’t be able to stop killing. It wouldn’t just be the Joker that died, it would be every criminal in Gotham who dared step out of line. I wanted to. I still want to. He took my son from me but I know that once I start I won’t be able to stop. I’m sorry that I’m so weak, but I couldn’t.”

The Batman, no Bruce Wayne, stood before him, head bowed in defeat as he admitted to his greatest shame.

Jason looked away before dropping the gun and walking away. He knew Bruce would take the Joker back to Arkham so he just needed to get away and think.

They worked to build their relationships anew. He couldn’t be the son Bruce remembered anymore, too much had changed, but he could be the son he was today. He could do what he could for the Replacement and make sure the kid didn’t get himself killed on the streets. The girl that joined them got the same measure of protection though she was better able to defend herself.

When he finally let go of thoughts of revenge he could think about a time when a stray spark of living Sunshine found its way to cold, grey Gotham. He finally looked up news of Marinette to see how she was doing. He broke down and cried when her wedding announcement to the son of a Parisian fashion house was the first thing to pop up.

Selina, Bruce and Alfred all encouraged him to take a trip to France anyways to get some closure, to say goodbye. But he refused, the smile in her eyes as she looked at her new husband in the picture convinced him that she was happy. And that was all he ever wanted for her, even if it couldn’t be him giving the her the world.

He was 19 years old when he made peace with his past.

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

He was 20 years old when news of the villain Hawkmoth and his defeat hit the international press. He was livid to realize that his beloved Nettie had been in so much danger just living in a city that should have been safe. That the Justice League had done nothing when the citizens pleaded for help.

It felt like the period after his revival in the pit as he stormed the halls of the WatchTower. His vision was in various shades of red and his thoughts just kept turning back to how Marinette might have been killed in one of the villain’s monster attacks. Hell, she probably did die once or twice only to be revived by the hero’s magic.

If he ever got to meet LadyBug he would shower her in appreciation for defending the city his Nettie lived in.

The door crashed and nearly fell off the hinges when he threw it open and stormed through into the Leagues council room.

“RedHood,” Batman said calmly as he stalked up to the table.

Slamming his hands down and leaning over the collected heroes he asked what he’d wanted to since the news broke.

“Who. Screwed. Up?”

“When footage of the attacks first reached the League, investigations were done. No lasting damage was left from the attacks so it was written off as a publicity stunt and subsequent messages were ignored,” Batman explained. “It was a phone operator that fielded these calls. They went based off the assessment done by the League and deleted them.”

“She could have died B. I was dead and couldn’t do anything but you should have been keeping an eye on her. You know what she means to me.”

Batman nodded, “I should have. The messages never reached me but I should have been keeping a watch on her regardless of that.”

“You’re going to make amends to those heroes for ignoring them,” Jason stated. “All of you are,” he added, including the other heroes in the room in his statement.

“Yes,” Batman agreed.

Jason jerked his head in a nod and left the room. Going back to the cave where he can do his own check and make sure Marinette was safe.

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

It wasn’t just the League that failed Marinette. Jason knew he was as much to blame. If he had gone to Paris? If he had seen her? If he had told her he was alive? Would she have suffered under Hawkmoth? If, if, if.

News of the divorce of up and coming fashion designer MDC and the son of the fashion mogul and former villain Adrian Agreste hit airwaves like lightning. In the beginning people claimed it was Marinette who left because of Hawkmoth’s identity. Adrian was fast to shut that down and own that he was the one to ask for the divorce for personal reasons. With what seemed to be an amicable break up the world turned its attention to the next sound bite.

He’d failed her again. Jason just sat by his empty grave as he cried when he learns about it. He argues with Alfred and Selina when they bring up him visiting Paris afterwards. This time Bruce supports his decision. He doesn’t approve and lets Jason know it, but he supports him.

Returning to the cave after patrol, Jason was the last to arrive. He didn’t know why everyone was gathered by the computer so he went to take a look. He didn’t hear what Alfred said as he walked over. Momentarily blinded by the helmet as he removed it, he froze when he finally saw what, no who, had his family’s attention.

She had grown since their first meeting, not in height but in maturity. She had traded the fun pigtails for an elegant braid, and jeans for a sundress obviously of her own design.

“Hi, Monsieur Alfred introduced the others but I haven’t gotten your name yet. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she introduces herself as if she were meeting a stranger for the first time.

It hurt his heart that she would do that with him, though he realizes why she did. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know that it was him under the mask.

The words wouldn’t come though when he tried to find them and tell her. He finally settled for showing her, hoping she would believe her eyes.

After she gasped in reaction to his reveal he thought maybe his approach was a bit boneheaded after all. Nothing to do but go forward from there though.

“It’s me Nettie. I’m alive.”

Marinette teared up but instead of breaking down and crying she ran to him and jumped into his arms. Burying her face in his neck she just murmured “You’re alive” over and over.

“Yeah,” he admitted. He held her as tightly as he dared. A little worried he might hurt her by accident.

When she pulled away he reluctantly let her go but it was worth it.

She gave him the biggest smile and he saw it again.

He was 21 years old and the sun was shining in cold, grey Gotham once more.

————————————

So I really got into the structure I used for the first chapter and exuded to use the same for this one. They end at different ages because Jason’s a few months older and this happened in that in between time (the real reason is sections were getting too busy so I add another year to his story. How do I rationalize it? Well birthdays are a thing so there you go).

I hope everyone enjoyed this wild ride. I do plan to do an epilogue chapter but that will have to wait until next weekend. Anyone have any ideas you can send it to me.

@pepelachanel @mellownieice @kris-pines04 @zebrabaker @two-faced-biatch @vixen-uchiha @mandy984 @shamefullove @mycupisbroken @dawnwave16 @abrx2002 @mochinek0 @tbehartoo @fertileleaf @thanks-captain-obvious @ravennightingaleandavatempus @hinata3487 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @zalladane @dast218 @miraculous786 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @mooshoon @ladybug182 @iggy-of-fans @legendaryneckjudgestudent @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @finallyaniguana @tog84 @mystery-5-5 @evil-elf16

#jasonette #marinette x jason #violence and angst #extreme violence #torture aftermath #angst #madness #DLDR #dead dove don’t eat #I’ve warned you multiple times so don’t come at me #violence

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 1

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí

Additional Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation

Summary: Wei WuXian continues to recover from his traumatic near-death experience, and the cultivation world slowly reacts to the event as well.

Notes: I hesitated to write this because I’m already writing two multichapter fics. But I already started this and I have Plans, so it’s too late. So here we go. Please note that in the coming weeks the new semester will start and so my writing time will be much curtailed. The title of this is taken from another Mei Yaochen poem. His poems are really lovely. My favorites deal with grief and longing. I really need to look into finding translations—a translation I found of 不知夢 was haunting. Alas, this pandemic doesn’t make getting books easy.

Parts 1 & 2

AO3 Link

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

“Xiongzhang, shufu, I wish to court Wei Ying.”

WangJi had decided to be forward about his desire. Most would approach such a conversation in a roundabout way, starting with idle conversation, but WangJi preferred to be direct, especially in this.

Truthfully, he would have sought permission before now, but Wei Ying was fragile, even after he had finally broken through to him.

When he had brought him to his siblings after his admission of hunger, Jiang YanLi had cried when he actually ate, kept filling his bowl, and had since made it her personal mission to get him back to a healthy weight. Jiang Cheng’s reaction had been stronger; he had given Wei Ying an almost violent hug and demanded he never worry them like that again.

“I’ll try not to,” Wei Ying had said.

“If you… I was going to kill a-niang if you didn’t get better. She’d deserve it. She does deserve it.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice had been filled with vitriol.

Neither sibling had wanted to part from him, particularly after he admitted to having nightmares, and the four of them had stayed in the jingshi that night, with XiChen as an amused chaperone due to Jiang YanLi’s status as a young maiden. WangJi had not expected to be included in the sleepover, but he had been pleased by it nonetheless.

“I was there, but I wasn’t,” Wei Ying tried to explain, struggling both to find the words and stay awake. “I knew what was going on around me, but I didn’t really feel anything. Interacting was hard, like trying to run underwater.”

He had fallen asleep long before hai shi, after Jiang YanLi had stuffed him full of lotus and pork rib soup, spicy baozi, and osmanthus cakes she had personally prepared in the kitchen. He had sprawled on a blanket in what was normally an anteroom of sorts in the jingshi. Jiang Cheng had covered him with a second blanket with a surprising amount of tenderness.

“How did you get through to him, second master Lan?” Jiang YanLi had asked in the quiet that followed. “We were so worried.”

Answering that question was not easy; he had not then been ready to admit his feelings to anyone but Wei Ying.

“I composed a guqin piece for him,” he finally said.

The smile Jiang YanLi had given him was knowing, and made it clear she was pleased and accepting of his intentions toward Wei Ying, though he knew he would still need to formally request permission of her and Jiang Cheng in the future if he wished to court him.

Jiang Cheng, thankfully, had not seemed to get the implication and just shook his head.

“He always was more musical than anyone else in the family. A-Niang hated that, wouldn’t let him play the dizi. Just another thing she decided to be awful about,” he had muttered angrily.

“‘An angry man is full of poison,’” XiChen had advised softly, quoting Confucius. “Your anger will not change her, only yourself.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, but his lips twisted.

“She wanted me to hate him. Kept pitting us against each other, comparing us. Still, I never thought she would…”

He shook his head, and Jiang YanLi squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Blood or not, a-Xian is our beloved brother,” she had said. “And she hates that. It may be unfilial, but we choose him.”

WangJi had insisted Jiang YanLi take the bed, as was appropriate. He settled in for the night beside Wei Ying, xiongzhang on his other side. Jiang Cheng slept on the other side of Wei Ying, sandwiching him between friendly bodies; if he woke from nightmares, he would not be alone.

But it had been WangJi who woke to hear Wei Ying’s soft whimpers and panting in his sleep, to see his furrowed brow and the fear and pain in his features, even asleep.

“Wei Ying,” he had whispered. “You’re safe.”

Wei Ying hadn’t stirred, but had curled toward his voice, wound up burrowed against his side, and let out a soft sigh, his brow relaxing as he fell deeper into sleep, away from the nightmare that had been plaguing him.

WangJi’s last thought before falling back to sleep had been that Wei Ying fit against his body like it was meant to be.

Shufu’s cup froze halfway to his mouth, but his expression was one of resignation. Xiongzhang simply looked pleased.

“He has been doing better these past weeks,” XiChen commented.

WangJi only nodded.

‘Better’ was the best descriptor. At times Wei Ying still seemed more absent than present, but the mind healers were able to speak with him more than they had before and seemed optimistic. He ate more, though he sometimes needed prompting or reminders of the food if he seemed to fade from reality. He was starting to look healthier.

“Sometimes,” Wei Ying had confessed after one of his fading episodes, “it’s like the world is too bright and loud.”

Even in the serenity of Cloud Recesses. The mind healers, he had said, told him his mind was protecting him when the world was too much for him, as it apparently had been for a full year after his near-death.

Wei Ying had, haltingly, started to play the dizi WangJi had bought him, sometimes losing himself in the music entirely. The battered dizi among his possessions, he explained, had belonged to his father, something he had left behind at Lotus Pier after eloping with his mother. Jiang FengMian had stored it away for his return, but instead Wei ChangZe and CangSe SanRen had died on a night hunt.

The dizi had been given to Wei Ying when he was found and brought to Lotus Pier, the only item he had of his parents’, but he had been banned from playing it by Yu ZiYuan. Instead he had hidden it away in his room.

Playing the dizi also often overwhelmed Wei Ying, leaving him beyond exhausted, the memories associated so fraught. WangJi had seen tears spill down his cheeks as he played more than once. But when WangJi mentioned the idea of attending music classes to learn GusuLan cultivation songs, he had smiled.

WangJi had set up a meeting with the instructor, Lan MingKai. Despite the rule against gossip, all of GusuLan knew what had happened at the Lotus Pier discussion conference. Normally this would be displeasing, but the result was not: Wei Ying was treated with kindness. Not only had the instructor been welcoming, he had even offered individual morning music lessons. Wei Ying was, in fact, attending a lesson while WangJi had tea with his brother and uncle.

Overall, Wei Ying was more present, more expressive—nothing like he had been before, but after so long without seeing him smile at all even the small ones were precious.

“Yes,” WangJi said. “It is gratifying.”

Shufu cleared his throat and took a sip of tea, setting down the cup before speaking.

“Why seek our approval, WangJi? Why not his siblings’?”

“Wei Ying is of GusuLan now,” he reminded softly; it was polite to seek sect approval. “I will seek their approval following yours.”

This explanation seemed to please shufu, who nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“It has been troubling to see Wei WuXian so… quiet,” he finally said. “I never thought I would say I prefer him more lively, but…”

In conversations over the last year, shufu had expressed concerns. He had seen people severely traumatized in the past, their personalities changed by pain. He had kept up with the mind healers and offered suggestions on activities WangJi could use to try to engage Wei Ying.

“There have been times the mind healers have not been able to help,” he finished after a moment. “I was becoming concerned this might be one of those cases.”

WangJi set down his teacup, afraid he might break it in reaction, his entire body clenching at the idea that Wei Ying could die.

Shufu watched him, something in his face softening.

“He will still need help in his continued recovery, WangJi. And he may never recover fully.”

“I wish to be by his side regardless,” he stated, and his voice came out hoarse.

Xiongzhang placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as though to soothe.

“You have my blessing, WangJi. You always have.”

WangJi almost smiled at that, remembering how XiChen had pushed him to form a friendship with Wei Ying, how he had resisted. He hadn’t known how to handle his burgeoning emotions, had been afraid of them. Xiongzhang had known long before he himself had.

“You have mine as well,” shufu added. “A marriage would make GusuLan’s acceptance of Wei WuXian more concrete and indisputable.”

XiChen nodded, looking thoughtful.

“After what he has been through, and what I have heard of his childhood from Jiang WanYin, that stability would likely help him heal.”

WangJi resisted his immediate urge to ask after that information, but if Jiang Cheng wanted it known to him, it would be. He refused to violate Wei Ying’s privacy by asking others or even him. If Wei Ying wished him to know, he would tell him.

Shufu interrupted his thoughts.

“WangJi, you need never fear he will face ill treatment here. No physical punishment. No seclusion. He will not be turned out. He has suffered enough.”

Tension WangJi hadn’t known he’d been carrying eased all at once, the fear that Wei Ying would, once healed, face these punishments and, if they were married, be subject to the same treatment his mother had suffered... The last thing he wanted to do was add to the trauma Wei Ying had already been subjected to by making him a prisoner. He had already watched him nearly die and then wither away into almost a ghost once; he refused to do it again.

“Thank you, shufu.”

“He may have a penchant for… antics,” shufu continued. “But none of them have been harmful. They’re simple pranks, nothing worth what he has suffered.”

Silence fell between them, and WangJi did his best not to remember mud-caked pale skin and blue lips, the gurgling gasp of Wei Ying’s desperate breaths under Jiang YanLi’s screams. He feared if he closed his eyes, that would be all he would see, not the gentle whorls of the dark table, the condensation on the teapot, not the steam rising from its spout.

They had been among the first to respond to Jiang YanLi’s screams for help, having happened to be nearby at the time. Shufu, having the best knowledge among them of healing, had not hesitated to dirty his robe in the mud, passing qi to Wei Ying as he lay bleeding from his nose, eyes, ears, coughing up blood and river water, dangerously close to qi deviation after his desperate and dangerous use of his spiritual energy to free himself.

Shufu had ordered xiongzhang to get help, ordered WangJi to help him, clearly knowing WangJi would refuse to leave if asked. Wei Ying had moaned in pain when shufu turned him onto his side, and that was when they saw the tears in the back his clothing that left him almost naked, the blood seeping from lash marks, had noticed the bruising on his face and neck, the bloody fingers that curled in the mud as though seeking something to hold onto.

WangJi had removed the outermost layer of his robe to drape over him, to preserve his dignity in front of the array of faces that were coming to investigate Jiang YanLi’s screams. He had taken his hand then, had watched Wei Ying, eyes wide and terrified, try to focus on him, saw him mouth his name. All he could do was assure him he was there and keep holding his hand when Wen Qing arrived and started snapping orders to everyone.

“It probably helps that he has never gone near your beard,” xiongzhang commented, his tone almost forcibly light, an attempt to dispel the tension.

Shufu seemed to shake himself, as though dispelling the same memories haunting WangJi, or memories of his own.

“CangSe SanRen probably considered her crowning prank the time she shaved my beard while I slept,” shufu said, his voice almost fond. “I rather hope he doesn’t attempt that.”

WangJi hesitated before speaking.

“Wei Ying knows very little about his parents,” he said softly. “He would probably appreciate any stories of his mother you would tell him.”

After a moment of hesitation, shufu nodded.

“She was a very bright person,” he murmured. “Much like Wei WuXian was, before.”

His countenance had a sort of sorrow to it, and WangJi wondered if Lan QiRen, like Jiang FengMian and others of his generation, had also loved CangSe SanRen. Whether she had upended him like Wei Ying had upended WangJi. Or perhaps shufu felt the loss of Wei Ying’s light, and it reminded him of her death.

“Tell him I will speak to him, when he is ready,” shufu said.

WangJi wondered if shufu was ready, but he held his tongue. That his uncle was thinking of Wei Ying’s condition, letting Wei Ying decide if and when he was ready to learn more about his mother, was a kindness. He was still recovering from the damage his adoptive mother, however much she didn’t deserve and had refused the title, had done to him.

“I will let him know.”

They pause to sip at the cooling tea, to enjoy the breeze coming in through the window and the sound of the windchimes gently clinking beyond, the peace of a morning in Cloud Recesses.

“Please also let young master Wei know that he is not required to invent talismans so regularly,” xiongzhang said as he poured more tea. “His recovery comes first. And he need not feel he owes GusuLan for offering sanctuary.”

“Not simply sanctuary,” shufu clarified. “Wei WuXian is a GusuLan disciple, should he wish to be. He need not offer compensation for his care.”

WangJi frowned, considering all that had occurred. Certainly, shufu’s words to Madam Yu had made Wei Ying’s welcome clear, but he didn’t know that Wei Ying had been capable of listening then, so soon after his near death and in the midst of insults and verbal abuse. The announcement of such so publicly at the discussion conference meant that Wei Ying’s status as a GusuLan disciple was known to the cultivation world.

But it didn’t necessarily follow that it was known to Wei Ying.

“Has Wei Ying been informed? Formally invited?”

He watched as his uncle and brother had a silent conversation that left them both looking abashed, and knew this was something that had been lost in the chaos of what had happened, had somehow not been noticed in the last year, an oversight.

“I will speak with him,” xiongzhang insisted. “He already wears GusuLan robes, so we thought…”

“He wears them because they are white,” WangJi reminded him. “He grieves still. I gave him blue robes, and he has not worn them.”

Shufu frowned, his expression almost pinched, close to a wince. XiChen closed his eyes, as he always did when overwhelmed by emotion. WangJi felt the same guilt they did; it had been a year, and none of them had clarified his welcome, too focused on his dissociation with the world, his healing, when this information could have aided in his recovery. None of them had clarified that this was his home.

“I will have a forehead ribbon prepared as well,” shufu said. “We will present it to him, and apologize for the delay.”

“Perhaps you should also make sure his siblings are aware,” WangJi said gently.

Shufu actually winced, which told him the issue had also not been discussed with them, either. WangJi wondered if the Jiang siblings had realized Wei Ying would stay at Cloud Recesses, or if they had planned to follow Wei Ying wherever he went after Gusu.

“I would recommend speaking to them first,” WangJi advised. “Perhaps before I ask about courtship, so they do not assume the two are related.”

“Or dependent,” xiongzhang murmured, as though he had read WangJi’s mind. “We owe them a tremendous apology. After what nearly happened… they’ve feared for his future all this time. It must be one of the reasons they’ve stayed.”

They had many, WangJi knew, and he was certain both XiChen and shufu knew as well. The biggest one was the lady of Lotus Pier, who may have given birth to both of them but could clearly not be trusted.

“We will rectify this,” shufu assured him. “Wei WuXian is of GusuLan.”

“And when he is ready to stop wearing white, that can certainly be accommodated,” xiongzhang added. “He seemed rather fond of black and red, as I recall.”

Shufu twitched but did not protest.

The bell indicating si shi rang, and WangJi rose, bowing properly to his brother and uncle. It was time to collect Wei Ying from his lesson.

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onebatch2batch · 4 years

Note

kastle + “Do you even own a shirt?” please!!

Thank you so much for the prompt, this was really fun to write!!

–

The worst part about finding a new roommate, Karen finds, is the staggering amount of bullshit to wade through just to find someone who isn’t going to kill her. Or smell her hair in her sleep. Or something equally as horrifying. The first person to answer her ad in the newspaper had been a small, mousy girl that wore cat ears and cried when Karen asked about it. The second person had been a man a few years her junior who reeked of weed and waggled his eyebrows when he asked if they’d be sharing the room and the rent. The next blunty told her he was only interested in the room as a rendezvous point for his mistress.

And so on.

Karen likes to think she’s not picky. She’s honestly, truly not picky. She’d been living with Foggy for three years before he and Marcie got engaged, prompting them to get a place together uptown. Foggy had been a good roommate—never late on rent, easy to spend time with, non combative about sharing a bathroom and chores. He also never took out the trash and was a serial dish-breaker. But everyone has their quirks, and she’s prepared for some level of weird. Just not as weird as the people she’s met with today.

So when the sixth person knocks on her door, Karen is less than optimistic. According to their brief phone call earlier in the day, his name is Frank Castle. He’s an ex-Marine, fresh out of service in need of a place in the city. He’d been polite and cursory on the phone, giving nothing else away–so when she opens the door to a handsome man with a clean shaven face and a charming smile, she’s a little shocked. And when he takes off his jacket during the tour to reveal thick, corded arms and a shirt drawn tight across his chest, she very nearly gives him the room on eye candy potential alone.

Common sense overrules her–if she really does give Frank the room, it would be a living nightmare to hook up with him. What if they sleep together and then have a falling out? She would still have to see him every day. She’ll have to vet him just like everyone else and make a decision fairly. Part of her hopes that he has a pet tarantula or something. Any reason to turn him down.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn’t work that way.

“I’m clean,” he tells her as he casts an eye over the vacant room. She watches the back of his head, enraptured by the low timbre of his voice. “And I’m quiet–I do play guitar sometimes. If that’s alright.”

Because of course the stupidly hot, charming man asking to live with her plays guitar. Of course.

“Do you work?” she asks him, leaning on the doorframe as he opens the closet door to look inside.

“Uh huh. I work construction. Sometimes I work odd jobs on the weekends.” He flashes her a quick smile. “And I promise to keep the parties down to a minimum.”

She offers him the room.

–

Two months after Frank moves in, they’ve settled into a rhythm. Admittedly, not the kind of rhythm that Karen thinks about when she’s alone at night and with him just across the hall but–

–yeah, they have a rhythm.

After a brief period of awkwardness and some time spent learning each other’s little quirks, Karen finds that she really enjoys Frank’s company. He’s funny in a very subtle, deadpan kind of way. He’s respectful of her space and privacy, and just like he said before–he’s quiet. Most nights find them at separate ends of the couch, Karen typing up an article for the paper she works at while he reads or strums his guitar. Sometimes he’ll cook them both dinner, pulling some old family italian recipe out of nowhere, table set by the time she gets home. She’s pleased to find he’s as clean as he claimed, and that sharing a bathroom isn’t as terrible as it could be. It seems neither of them have a very active social life, which suits her (and her growing crush) just fine.

Four months in, Karen decides that Frank is trying to kill her. She knows that he is a disciplined man; he starts every day the same way. He wakes up long before her. She knows this because the coffee pot is always nearly done brewing by the time she drags herself out of bed around 6am. In fact by the time she’s done pouring them both a cup–his black, hers with cream–his keys jingle in the door like clockwork. Frank spends every morning, seven days a week, running five miles before the sun even decides it’s going to rise. And then he walks in like it’s nothing, and Karen sits in her bathrobe and makes small talk and pretends not to notice the sweat glistening on his skin.

It really sinks in that Frank’s trying to kill her on a humid June morning. Even in the apartment with the AC circulating she feels the wetness of the air, and she lounges at the kitchen island with her coffee and watches the door. Frank’s keys sound a moment later, and then he walks in and nearly has her falling out of her chair.

Of course she’s seen him shirtless once or twice, but it’s always a brief flash between the bathroom and his bedroom door after a shower. It still leaves her wholly unprepared for the sight of Frank Castle’s chiseled abs, sculpted chest and thick, sinewy arms at half past six in the morning. She’s suddenly very awake.

“Mornin’,” Frank tells her easily, picking up his mug with a quick nod of thanks. He heads down the hall towards the bathroom and Karen takes a sip of her coffee, heart thundering in her chest. The image of him half naked, sweating for a whole different reason, fills her head. She thinks about him balanced above her, moisture beading on his forehead as he bruises her hips with his own. She thinks of what would happen if she made his heart race without even leaving the apartment–and if she even could.

The shower turns on and Karen groans, snapping out of her daydreams. She’s fucked.

–

She suffers through this newest form of torture in silent agony. Day after day, morning after morning, she considers staying in her bed until the shower switches on. And then day after day she pulls herself out of bed, far too eager for someone who can’t afford to have this big a crush on someone she’ll be splitting rent with indefinitely.

It’s seventeen shirtless morning later–not that she’s counting–when she finally cracks.

Frank strolls in before she can even take her first sip of coffee. As soon as she sees him, a flush rises on her cheeks. He’s got a nice, even tan over his skin that seems to glow under the lights of her kitchen. His hair is a little shaggier than normal, which means it’s about time for a trim. It gives him a softer look. There’s a sheen of sweat on him that she’s not embarrassed to say she finds ridiculously hot. When he directs one warm, wide, post-exercise smile at her she feels her insides turn to mush.

“Mornin’, Karen,” he greets, picking up his mug.

“Good morning.” By some small miracle, she only sounds a little strained.

Regardless, Frank raises a brow at her, leaning against the counter. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She searches for a safe topic, one that will steer him away from looking at her like that when she knows she must be flushed red. All she can come up with is: “Do you even own a shirt?”

Frank blinks once. And then once more, for good measure. He glances down and then back up at her with a sudden clarity. The slow, shit-eatening grin that spreads across his face makes her palms sweat.

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” he asks with a lilt in his voice that tells her he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Not at all,” Karen mumbles, watching through lowered lashes as he makes his way around the kitchen island. “Just…you know. Um. It’s not really fair.”

“Yeah? What’s not?”

Frank’s close now. He smells of sweat and sunshine, and he should smell gross so why she’s suddenly getting poetic about it gives her pause. Enough of a pause for him to huff out a laugh.

Karen’s eyes lower unwittingly to the sharp jut of his jaw and the slopes of his collarbone. She traces it down, over nipples pebbled in the cool apartment air, past the uneven ridges of his abs, and then back up into his amused gaze. She panics. “I can’t walk around without a shirt,” she tries, grappling at something–anything–other than it’s not fair because I want to see you take your shirt off after you take off mine. And then I want it to stay off, and I want to–

“You could take your shirt off.”

Karen gapes at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be complainin’.” Frank fixes her with a wide eyed look that she thinks is supposed to mimic innocence.

This is it. This is how I die. Frank Castle is the world hottest roommate and we shouldn’t be flirting. But we definitely are. I think. And he’s–he’s–

–he’s walking away.

“I’ll put a shirt on after my shower,” he tells her, tossing her a grin over his shoulder. The bathroom door closes softly.

—

Now…now he’s just doing it on purpose.

One day Karen sits on the couch and types an article. At soft footsteps she glances up only to meet the wide plane of Frank’s bare chest as he casually traverses the carpet towards the kitchen.

Or another day, late afternoon on a Sunday, she walks into the apartment and he’s doing shirtless push ups in the middle of the living room.

Or another day she comes home from work and he’s cooking dinner in gray sweatpants and her apron—the one that says “whisk it real good” that she got for her birthday from Foggy last year–is far too small on him. Karen stares as her face flames, knowing how the next time she wears it she’ll only think of him.

And then the day that she snaps:

Karen comes home late. It’s nearly eight o clock by the time she manages to get her key in the lock, and she can think of nothing but bed, wine and food. And not particularly in that order.

“Frank,” she calls. “I’m home.”

There’s a scuffle from his room, and then the closing of a door before he appears in the hall. He has a guilty look on his face that almost distracts her from his shirtlessness. Almost.

“What?”

“i got somethin’ to show ya.” He pauses. “Don’t be mad.”

Karen sets her bag down, eyeing him with trepidation. “O…kay…”

With a gesture, Frank leads her back to his bedroom. She’s only been inside it once or twice–she knows it’s sparsely decorated, neatly kept, and the bed is always made. In any other instance she’d be excited that he’s bringing her into his space. Now, with the tautness of his shoulders and stiff, awkward smile–she’s just nervous. He puts a hand on the doorknob and then pauses, looking back at her.

“It’s nothing bad,” he starts, and then opens the door before she can reply.

A large ball of fur comes barrelling towards her and careens into her legs. Karen yelps, stumbling forward into the room. Her hip bumps his dresser but she doesn’t pay it any heed.

“Frank–”

“Aw, come on, Kare–” Frank leans down to scoop the excitable, yipping puppy into his arms. It’s young with that blueish grey sheen of a pitbull and wide blue eyes. It wiggles in his arms in an attempt to escape, snout sniffing in her direction.

Karen crosses her arms, trying and failing miserably to be upset with this new development. She certainly doesn’t have time to take care of a puppy, but if Frank wants to she knows she’ll be unable to say no. He takes in her failing stern expression as he wrestles with the writhing mass of fur in his arms.

“She’s just a puppy,” he says in a rush. “I found her out behind the buildin’. She was diggin’ through trash, Karen. I figured I would bring her in and get her cleaned up and then if you don’t want her in the apartment then I’d–…”

He doesn’t finish, trailing off. It’s obvious he didn’t have a plan for her rejecting the dog. Frank peers at her over the puppy’s head, and the image is too much for her to handle. The puppy, the imploring stare he is directing at her, his half-naked state, being in his room with his masculine, earthy smell in the air–Karen huffs and smiles in defeat. “What’s her name?”

Frank’s eyes widen, and then his grin nearly knocks her over. He steps closer and hoists the puppy up, holding her so that Karen can pet her. The dog nearly falls out of his arms with excitement when Karen starts to stroke her soft fur. Karen laughs. Frank watches her, smile gentling.

“I liked Blue.” He meets her gaze with a touch of shyness. “Unless you can think of somethin’ better.”

He’s standing close enough that she can feel the heat of him on her skin. At this distance, she sees the five o'clock shadow across his face. He smells of laundry and cologne and a little bit of wet dog, but that doesn’t stop her from stepping close. “I like Blue. We can keep her.”

His expression perks up, and then quickly shifts to cautious hope. He ducks his head slightly, hiding a smile. “We?”

Something tells her that if she were to inch closer, lean close and brush her lips over his, he wouldn’t mind. That instinct is right because before she can muster up the courage, Frank beats her to it. His kiss is brief and chaste. He pulls away to gauge her reaction but Karen pulls him back impatiently, slotting her mouth over his in a kiss that he reciprocates gladly. It would almost be perfect except for–

“Blue,” Karen sighs, pulling away as the dog clambors out of Frank’s arms into her own. The puppy whines excitedly, licking at Karen’s cheek until she laughs and pulls away. “Okay, okay. You’re lucky you’re cute–I’ve been waiting on that forever.”

Frank chuckles, reaching over to scratch under Blue’s chin. When Karen meets his gaze, it’s warm and pleased. She feels it all the way to her toes.

“She’s not sleeping in the bed with us,” she tells him, fighting a smile.

Frank’s eyebrows raise. He huffs. “Try tellin’ her that.”

But she wont–she’ll let the dog sleep in the bed every night as long as Frank’s there too.

#frank-kastle #kastle #kastle fic #mine #kastle ff #my writing

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amarabliss · 4 years

Text

Safe - 3 (Nobunaga Oda/Military MC)

I know not what I normally write for but i’m feeling way out of it, so enjoy if you like Ikemen Sengoku!

EDIT: YOU GUYS! you inspired me to do more! <3 YAY for capable MC!

You were an active member of the military for many years and now you were in war torn Japan 500 years in the past. The lord protecting you dismissed your claims to understand what he was going through, but when you happen to peek at the war table you see many things that needed correcting…

Part 1 Part 2*

*Song played

Ieyasu took in a deep breath before letting out a sigh as he re-bandaged the wound, “Dummy…”

“…I have heard…” His eyes widened as you spoke, “you call me dummy at least 3 times…today…which is better than yesterday. So, I must be doing better.”

You opened your eyes looked at him as he looked away scowling, “If you would actually know your place you wouldn’t have been hurt to begin with and I wouldn’t have to be fussing over you.”

You started to sit up and heard his protests, so you stopped, “How long have I been out?”

“Two days…the first was a struggle, you were fighting delusions and fever…the second day, I sedated you to help you heal better…” He looked at you again curiously, as if he wanted to ask you something.

You stared at him before letting out a sigh knowing full well he’d seen more of you then any of the other warlords, “…it was a bomb…”

His eyes widened a little as you went on putting a hand to your face as you remembered the incident, “…on a patrol with my unit…it went off and I took shrapnel to my back. Lucky I can still walk, but it left a nasty scar. That was just my first tour…”

“Hmph…” He looked away again, “I don’t understand half of what you just said…you must still be delirious.”

“I’m sure.” You smiled a little as he looked back to you, “When am I allowed to resume normal activity?”

He rolled his eyes, “When you can learn to behave and be normal…”

“Sure…” You finally sat up, “So now.”

“Stop.” He hissed at you shaking his head.

“Ieyasu…I feel a little tired…a little sore…” You tilted your head at him, “but otherwise fine. How is everyone else? Nobunaga…”

“He’s fine.” Ieyasu stood up sighing as he shook his head, “Maybe a little more irritable then normal…”

“I imagine being almost assassinated in your home would do that.” Ieyasu gave you a dumbfounded look, “What?”

He scowled and looked away, “Nothing…I recommend resting more. Nothing overexerting for a few more days.”

You watched him turn away walking for your door, “Thank you…I know you’re not my greatest fan, but without you I’m certain I’d be dead…so thank you.”

“Tch…” He shook his head before opening the door, “Whatever…”

Nobunaga sat in his tenshu eyes closed trying to settle his mind. Every time he got close his mind would flash back to you on the bridge to the towers. The way you moved holding a weapon. It was clear you were never lying to him when you spoke of being in battle.

And the look in your eyes. The darkness of going in for a kill. It was…desirable.

He clenched his hand letting out a breath of frustration before he stood up. Nothing would help to get you from his mind. When you collapsed into his arms it was the most vulnerable he’d seen you and it…

His eyes widened at the realization…It frightened him.

He didn’t know you… not like his men… and yet you threw yourself into danger for him. Hideyoshi had explained everything to him. How you went from a guest to a warrior in a matter of seconds. Then Masamune…he said the same thing. From helpless and defeated to a war goddess.

And he saw you fall from your pedestal…dying in his arms…for him.

“Set her down.” Ieyasu instructed him before telling a maid what to gather.

Nobunaga set you down on the mat of you room. Your breathing was labored and skin paling, “Ieyasu…”

“You need to leave.” His eyes flashed up to the blond as rage began to fill him. Ieyasu remained calm, “My lord…you are not her kin…or her husband, you have to leave.”

“You will report me as soon as you are finished.” He stood looking down to you one last time before he left.

That was the last he saw of you two days ago. He sighed as he walked through the halls deep in thought. Everyone was busy carrying out orders he’d given them after the attack, so for once he was left mostly to his own thoughts.

He was brought out from them when he heard your laugh. It was a distinct sound, loud for someone so much smaller then himself. He stopped looking across the way as he placed a hand on the nearby pole. You were sitting on the edge of the deck enjoying the fresh air. The maid was fussing over you and you must’ve made some remark because it put her in a tizzy, which made you laugh even more.

He liked the way your eyes shut, and your smile got big. It was the look he hoped everyone would have once he attained his dream. Carefree and unburdened.

He hopped off the deck and walked over to you as you brought a cup of tea to your lips, “You’re awake…”

You looked up to him surprised. Your eyes still looked so tired but they brightened when you smiled a little, “I am, thanks to Ieyasu and his perky bedside manner.”

He let out a huff as you teased the poor cynical lord, “He let you out then?”

“I didn’t give him much of a choice.” You told him before waving over to the other side of the tea set, “Would you like some? Hideyoshi sent it over.”

Nobunaga looked around as you waited for his answer, “I suppose a cup would be nice.”

As he took a seat as you reached over to the pot pouring him a cup, “I never thought I’d like this stuff, but Hideyoshi knows how to prepare a nice brew.”

“He does and what do you mean you never thought you’d like tea?” He looked at you as you handed a cup to him.

“We…” You made a face as you tilted your head, “we only really have two kinds of tea back home and they…kinda taste like dirt to me. Dirt and sweet dirt…oh I should also mention we drink it cold.”

You laughed when he nearly choked on the tea, “Cold? I mean…there are some that I don’t mind when they cool off, I guess but…truly?”

“Yeah.” You nodded a little smiling as he looked disgusted, “I’m almost thankful for your assassin, so I didn’t have to tell Hideyoshi that bit…he interrupted us on the way back. I’m certain I would have gotten a lecture otherwise.”

Nobunaga hung his head a little, “About that…”

“It’s beautiful out here.” You interrupted him as you looked out at everything, “It’s so calm. It’s a nice place to reflect, I bet.”

He stared at you holding the tea in his hand, “It can be…especially in autumn. The colors in sky make it quite serene.”

You made a satisfied noise, “It would be nice to see that.”

You looked at him and there was a knowing in your eye. You didn’t thank a soldier for doing their duty. They did it because it was their purpose…their job…and he related to that immensely. He didn’t expect anyone to thank him for unifying Japan once it was done. He just expected everyone to live.

He sat in the comfortable silence with you. Both sipping on the tea. When he finished, he stood up feeling your eyes following him, “When you’re feeling up to it…I’d like your opinion on some movements."

"I’d be happy to do it now.” You began to stand up.

“No.” He turned to you taking a step toward you shaking his head, “No, you still need your rest. It’s clear to see.”

You stared up into his eyes thoughtfully, “That’s funny…I could say the same thing about you…but I suppose I won’t.”

“What does that mean?” He watched you carefully put the cups back on the tray before you stepped on to the deck, “Y/N…”

“It means…” You looked at him after you picked up the tea set giving him a sad smile, “I too have nightmares…I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You were so casual about everything. What a place you must be from to easily admit you were struggling? He opened his mouth to question you about it but was interrupted as a vassal appeared running to him, “My lord, we have news…”

He sighed turning to them, “Speak…”

He became engrossed in the information being given to him and it gave you the perfect opportunity to slip away. You moved quietly watching his face become serious. Something must’ve finally turned up about that mysterious second party that was not only messing with the Oda but the Echigo forces as well.

You sighed when you had to turn down the hall to the kitchen to return the tea set. The staff fussed over you for a good moment before sending you back out. You slowly walked down the hall letting your thoughts drift back and forth between your situation and a certain warlord who recently seemed a bit more interested in you.

“My, my…” You looked up seeing Mitsuhide observing you like he so often did, “up and about already, little mouse?”

You rolled your eyes smirking a bit, “I think I’ve proven that I’m at least a cat now.”

He chuckled his smile curving upward more, “I suppose you’re right. One that pounces so quickly to our lord’s aide.”

You eyed him carefully, you’d spent enough time with him to know that he was always thinking three or four steps ahead of everyone, “I feel like you here for more than just a check in, Mitsuhide.”

“Hm…you are cleverer than I give you credit for.” His smile faded a little, “Will you walk with me? I would like to see what you saw that day of the attack. It’s imperative that we all prepare ourselves and take note of what you saw while no one else did.”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded as he offered his arm to you. You took it appreciative of the support. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but your wound was a bit deeper than you originally thought and it was quite tender.

You walked back through the private courtyard with him. You were surprised to see Nobunaga still standing there. Hideyoshi had joined him now, but despite being engaged in a discussion his eyes managed to meet yours.

Carnelian eyes found yours and you found you couldn’t look away for a moment. There was something hidden away in his…What was it you were seeing right now? You didn’t have enough time to figure it out as Mitsuhide pulled you away.

His gaze seemed to haunt you the rest of the afternoon, even while you explained everything to Mitushide. He looked at you curiously, “My dear, you seem terribly far away.”

“What?” You looked at him raising your eyebrows, “No…sorry…I’m just…trying figure out a puzzle. Not sure I will.”

“Hm…is this puzzle a tall, handsome, ruthless warlord?” He teased you as you both began walking back.

“Gee…you only described…all of you.” You poked back at him getting him to stop. You laughed at his wide-eyed look, “My, did I make you speechless? I didn’t mean to surprise you that much.”

“You didn’t deny my question, that is what surprised me.” You looked away from pulling your arms around yourself, “You’re wise to guard yourself. He’s not an easy man to care for.”

“Mitsuhide…” You let out a breath shaking your head, “…it doesn’t matter…I’m going home in two months…”

“I think you’re much easier to care for then you think you are…” He stepped in front of you raising your face with a slender finger smiling at you, “You shouldn’t doubt that so much.”

“I hate how you’re so good at that.” You swatted his hand away smiling before looking away again, “And you’re not wrong.”

He tilted his head looking down at you as you went on, “It’s not that I doubt how easy it is …I just don’t want to be a burden. You all have so much more to worry about with the war. I chose to go after the assassin…and I got hurt. It’s not your problem that I’m hurt, and it shouldn’t slow you down.”

“You would have rather we let you die…” Mitsuhide smirked.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” You half smiled at him, “He doesn’t need stranger to hold him back…I’ll only serve to slow him down.”

“…mm…perhaps not a stranger…” Mitsuhide turned from you and began walking back, “but a fellow warrior to share council with. Anyone would cherish that…”

“Mitsuhide…” You shook your head catching up to him, “What does it matter, if I’m leaving…”

“That’s in two months…” He smirked, “a lot can change by that point.”

He looked over to one of his vassals approaching carrying your guitar case, “I believe this belongs to you. It was not easy to find amongst the rubble…”

“You-you found her!” Your felt yourself get excited seeing it. It was the only thing you couldn’t find after helping Nobunaga out of the burning building. You had been very upset that first week and finally resigned yourself to the loss.

“I fear it may be damaged by the fire, but you would know best.” He watched you set it down on the ground pulling out the guitar.

“Nah…she’s been through worse. Warzones and cross country moves…” You told him resting it against yourself as you started to pluck at the six strings. Satisfied it was alright you put it away looking up at him, “Thank you…this is one of the few things at helps me find some peace.”

“It seems you have another talent besides tactics.” He smiled at you and for once you felt it was genuine, “Next you tell me sing with it…”

“Well…I’m nothing special…but I can carry a tune.” You shrugged as you stood up wincing a little.

“A triple threat my, my…” He reached over taking the case from you. You could tell from the glint in his eyes that he knew you were hurting, but he wouldn’t say anything, “Nobunaga will be most pleased.”

“And why is that?” You asked him as you both walked back into the castle.

“He won’t admit and I’ll kill you if you tell him…” Mitsuhide glanced at you seeing you roll your eyes, “He has trouble sleeping…usually when he’s run himself down he’ll take someone just to hold for the night…but he too has a love for music and it helps. So, when he tasked me to find such a trivial trinket of yours…I didn’t hesitate in sending my men out for it. He has a talent for noticing when something is valuable.”

“Ah…I see…” You stopped as you entered the halls with him holding out your hand for the case, “If you think it will help him…”

“Oh! Certainly not tonight!” He shook his head before patting the top of yours, “You’re hurt still and need to get some rest.”

Mitsuhide escorted you back to your room for the evening. He set everything down bidding you goodnight. You retired for a while getting some rest, but sometime during that night you woke up seeing your guitar resting in the corner of the room and something stirred you to get up.

**Picking it up walking out to that inner courtyard looking up at the tenshu seeing the light flicker against the screens. So he was still up, you sighed taking a seat on the edge of the deck pulling out the guitar. After tuning it a little and placing the capo where you needed it, you began to play, plucking the strings finding a piece of home within their vibrations.

You smiled a little as you began to play. No singing this time… you didn’t want to accidently wake everyone up and have them hunting you down. You glanced up again seeing that the light had disappeared. Maybe this had been a bad idea…

You sighed as you started winding the song down. You damn near jumped when you heard Nobunaga behind you, “Don’t stop…”

You looked up at him feeling a butterflies enter your stomach. You nodded slowly picking back up slowly. You glanced up at him as he moved relaxing against the pole. He seemed like he was truly letting the tension leave his body as you came to close.

You smiled a little before you spoke softly as he took a seat, “…I hope I didn’t wake you…”

“I was up…” He spoke just as softly, “You play beautifully…I’ve never heard an instrument like this before…it’s sounds similar to a shamisen…”

“It is…” You looked at him before you lifted it up, holding it out to him.

His eyes widened before he shook his head, “No…I don’t know how to play it.”

“It’s okay…You won’t break it.” You moved a little closer to him placing it in his hands, “I’ll teach you…”

He looked at you as you adjusted it on his lap before getting up and moving behind him taking his hand in yours grabbing the neck. You were so bold to just make him do something. He listened as you placed his fingers on the strings while reaching around him strumming the strings.

“See…” You spoke, your breath fell against his neck in a pleasant way, “All it takes is a little pressure to make something beautiful…”

He watched as you moved back sit next to him, “…perhaps…one day I’ll have the time learn properly.”

“I hope you do. I have a feeling you’d make an excellent musician.” Your eyes twinkled as you said.

“Oh really?” He gently held it back out to you, “What makes you say that?”

“Just…” You smirked a little looking at him, “A little fox told me you liked music…”

“Tch…” He looked away scowling, “Mistuhide…”

You laughed putting your hand on his shoulder, “In his defense…I think he’s worried about you…He just wants you find some peace, and you have wonderful hands.”

“Do I?” He looked down at his hands seeing scars shin in the moonlight.

“Yes…strong…secure…” You held your hand out next to his as if comparing them, “Well tempered to apply the right pressure to mold what you want out of anything…I doubt there’s anything you can’t do.”

You hopped off the deck placing your guitar back in its case as he shook his head, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” You looked at him as he rose up to his feet.

“Find the beauty in something so ugly?” He looked down to his hands, “I know I must do to see my dream come true…it’s dirty…bloody…these hands are stained and will never come clean…”

You tilted your head frowning before you spoke, “Because I hated myself…and…I hated what I did…but I had to do it…it was…well that part doesn’t matter, but what does is I had to learn to love myself again. So, I try to make something beautiful…however brief it might be at times…I can still say I did it. Doesn’t stop the nightmares, and it doesn’t change reality, but it can it ease the pain.”

“And it works? Truly?” He stepped toward you, eyes dancing over your face looking for the other shoe to drop.

“Not always…” You looked down for a moment taking a deep breath in, “But that’s life…you can’t always be happy…but you can’t just let yourself stay sad all the time. Even a blind man can taste something sweet, though his world is dark. A deaf man can see the beauty of a sunrise even though he’ll never hear the songs people sing…life is choices. I choose to see greatness…if I can.”

His eyes widened as you reached out taking his hand in yours. He watched as you took it tracing over the scars. No one had ever been so daring to do such a thing before, “What do you see?”

“…” They weren’t pretty, he knew it, and your silence was confirming that each second it past. Then just as quickly you pushed it all away with one word, “Hope.”

You smiled before leaning down kissing his palm, “Goodnight, Nobunaga.”

“Goodnight…” He stood there feeling his palm burn from where your lips touched him. He waited until you disappeared down the hall before looking at his hand, “Choose to see greatness…”

Resting comfortably in a tower a sly fox chuckled to himself, “Oh if only you’d let you guard down a little more, my lord…you do both yourselves a favor…”

#safe #ikemen sengoku imagine #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku #nobunaga oda reader #nobunaga oda/reader #nobunaga oda imagine #nobunaga oda #hideyoshi toyotomi #mitsuhide akechi #ieyasu tokugawa

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soft---darkness · 5 years

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Train Me (Final)

Hey guys!! Sorry this took me so long to put out, I've still been grinding away with college. But here it is! The series has come to an end. I really enjoyed writing this one even if the ending feels a bit rushed. I hope you guys enjoy!

And stay tuned for the next series..... ;)

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“W-what do y-you mean?” Eric's lip trembled softly as he talked to Dr. Iplier, looking close to crying. He fiddled with his handkerchief, eyebrows furrowed as he tried not to break down into sobs.

Dr. Iplier stammered a bit, looking around nervously. He couldn't say that he was expecting this reaction from the nervous ego, and he was slightly doubting his own words now. Regardless of such doubts, he repeated what he had said steadily. “I don't want you and Dark sparing anymore. It's not safe. He's not safe.” He said again, laying a sympathetic hand on Eric's shoulder. “I know you enjoy it, but I don't think Dark is doing it because he wants to be friends. He's...not a very genuine person.” Dr. Iplier felt bad for upsetting Eric, but he knew that it was for the best. Being around Dark on a good day was pushing it, and for Eric to be actively engaging with him in a violent activity...that wasn't acceptable.

Eric shook his head quickly, almost frantic in his actions. “No, no, it's not like that! He hasn't hurt me or made me do anything that I didn't want to.” Eric tried desperately to explain to the doctor that he wasn't being harmed and that Dark wasn't trying to pressure him into anything, but it came out more like a plea. He really really didn't want to stop training with Dark. Their sessions had become a time for Eric to be able to loosen up a bit and it was helping with his anxiety greatly. The nervous ego had found that in the past few months, being around the others was easier and he wasn't quite as scared of walking alone outside the manner. He was still a cautious person and would probably always be, but learning to fight had made him more assured through daily life.

Though, Eric realized that others might not have noticed a difference. Eric didn't always stick out as a prominent character and sometimes faded into the background when in public. So of course Dr. Iplier didn't fully understand what was going on. He hadn't had the same friendly experiences with Dark that Eric had been having and couldn't be expected to see how safe the sparring sessions were. These thoughts caused Eric to perk up a bit as an idea slowly formulated in his mind. Before he could voice it however, Dr. Iplier sighed softly.

“I know that's how you feel Eric, but Dark is crafty. He may very well be manipulating you without your knowledge.” The doctor ran a hand through his hair as he talked, a nervous habit multiple of the egos had picked up from their creator. He wasn't frustrated with Eric, but rather the situation. He could tell that he was upsetting the new ego, but he only wanted him to be safe. He knew it wasn't fair to tell Eric to stop doing something that he was enjoying, but there were better hobbies for him to pick up. “Isn't there anything else you can do with your free time? Perhaps Google with build something with you or The Host will read with you.” Dr. Iplier voiced the suggestion optimistically, giving Eric a soft smile of encouragement. Eric only blinked at him though, and the doctor sighed again. “Why do you enjoy training with Dark so much Eric?” He asked softly.

Eric stammered a bit, but looked up at Dr. Iplier seriously, hoping to be able to convey how important this was to him. “H-he helps me doctor. I've tried e-everything to control my anxiety and this is the only t-thing that helps.” Eric cleared his throat a bit, his nervous hands rubbing at the yellow cloth between them. “H-he's supportive and he goes s-slowly a-and...and he believes in me.” Eric knew that he was crying at this point, but he ignored the tears. Instead, he grabbed at Dr. Ipliers hand and looked into his eyes. “W-why don't you come w-watch us? Then you can s-see what im talking about…” He made the suggestion shakily, but looked at the other ego with hope.

Dr. Iplier considered the idea quietly, thinking the proposition over slowly and weighing the pros and cons. After a moment, he glanced back at Eric, smiling slightly. “You know what Eric...that might be a good idea.”

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Eric jumped up the stairs two at a time, almost vibrating with excitement as he skidded to a stop in front of Dark’s door. He rapped on it quickly, all of his normal nerves flushed away by his enthusiasm. He bounced from foot to foot as he waited for Dark to answer and resisted the urge to knock again after only a few seconds. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open to reveal a half-alarmed, half-pissed Darkiplier. “What do you- Eric?” He raised an eyebrow at the excited ego, not sure how to react to this new development. “Are you okay?” He asked slowly, feeling slightly concerned.

Eric only grinned and nodded quickly. “We can spare!” He burst out, too eager to waste time with pleasantries. “Dr. Iplier changed his mind and said that I could keep training with you!” He looked at the demon expectantly, purposely leaving out the part of the deal where the Doctor was going to be watching the next session. The two had agreed that Dark shouldn't know. Dr. Iplier had told Eric that he wanted to make sure Dark wasn't putting on an act just because he was there, and Eric agreed to the idea easily. He knew that the Doctor would see how well Dark treated Eric and would give them the go-ahead to keep training in the future.

Darks attitude immediately changed at the news. He smiled gently at Eric, the concerned crease in his eyebrows disappearing as he laid a hand on the other’s shoulder. “That's wonderful Eric! I'm very pleased to hear that. I'll make sure to be ready at our normal time.” He chuckled a bit as Eric grinned and nodded again, bouncing a bit in place. He was happy to see how Eric had changed for the better since they had started training. The doctor had been an idiot to not see it...but at least they still got to train together.

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“That's very good Eric, just like that!” Dark praised the other egos warmly, smiling brightly as he made progress with the new moves. “Remembered to keep your knees slightly bent. Don't lock down.” They had both gotten into the training with a new vigor this session, both of them ecstatic to still be able to spare and train together. Eric smiled back at the demon as he adjusted himself accordingly to any pointers, relieved to still have this opportunity to learn.

The two settled into their rhythm easily and with excitement, unknowing to the eyes that watched them happy. Standing by the doorway where neither of the two could see, Dr. Iplier stood smiling and shaking his head slowly in surprise. He made a mental note-to-self to apologize to Darkiplier later.

#darkiplier #dr. iplier #eric #train me #my writing #softdarkness

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hyoubusqueenofespers-moved · 4 years

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Kyousuke Hyoubu + Shadow Angel Self Ship Headcanons!

Since I’m in a headcanon kind of mood, I have created some new Kyousuke Hyoubu and Shadow Angel (Hyoubu x Azusa), aka the Zettai Karen Children power couple.

Headcanons:

* Hyoubu and Azusa are considered to be the Most Dangerous Esper Crime Duo In The Underworld (Hyoubu says their team name of him and Azusa as a duo is known as Shadow Angel). Combining their incredible powers and strength, their great intelligence, their unmatched teamwork and synergy, and their strong and unbreakable love; devotion; and trust for one another; Hyoubu and Azusa have proven to be an absolute power couple in the eyes of their enemies, having decimated many enemy criminal empires; get away with various crimes and stealthily avoiding authorities; easily take on enemies with a lethal yet synchronized fighting style. Due to this, Hyoubu and Azusa are sometimes referred to as ‘The Power Couple from Hell’. Due to how much of a threat Hyoubu and Azusa are as a duo, many people try to avoid them as much as possible and are wanted in several countries for their undying criminal record.

* Hyoubu likes gushing about Azusa a lot and often reminds others how much he loves Azusa, which he does towards PANDRA members to even strangers. He is often seen calling Azusa cute nicknames and like call Azusa “King” and reminds Azusa that he is “His King”. Even during battle, when taunting/teasing his opponents, Hyoubu is still calling Azusa cute nicknames.

• Hyoubu has created official PANDRA merchandise of Azusa such as plushies and a couples keychain featuring Hyoubu and Azusa. Whenever someone new joins PANDRA, Hyoubu is always handing out the couples keychain of him and Azusa.

* Hyoubu loves to treat Azusa like a king as well, treating him to very lavish clothes and meals. He evens buys Azusa a throne for when Azusa and him become kings, they’ll be able to sit on it even has a top hat with a king crown attached to the hat reserved solely for Azusa.

* In one of the predictions, a few seconds prior to the war starting, Hyoubu is seen accompanying Azusa now, recognized as King of Eternal Darkness, sometimes called King of Espers, on their throne watching the events unfold on a large building roof.

* Hyoubu is a wholesome and protective father to his daughters, Dominique and Yugiri, who is often seen calling princesses and loves them to bits. He’s also very protective of them as well as Hyoubu assigns three of PANDRA’s strongest esper bodyguards, known as Protectors of The Princesses, assigned to accompany and protect Dominique at all times and prevent her from being harmed by outside forces, engaging in fights with those who intend to do so; whenever Dominique is traveling outside of PANDRA to do things such as shopping or getting ice cream when Hyoubu and Azusa are too busy to do so.

* Speaking of protective father, Hyoubu is incredibly protective of his daughters and whenever he learns that one of the girls gets hurt; Hyoubu does everything in his power to find their attacker, even getting his hands dirty just to find them. Once Hyoubu finds them, Hyoubu becomes incredibly terrifying in the eyes of his enemy and rains hell upon them, inducing fear upon his foe for hurting those he loves and has absolutely no problem with killing anyone who hurts his daughters, ensuring that NOBODY is allowed to hurt his kids and get away with it.

* Hyoubu doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty for Azusa. Same for Azusa.

* Both Hyoubu and Azusa have positively influenced each other and motivate each other in dynamic ways.

* Hyoubu has a cruise ship and submarine that he owns to sometimes use for PANDRA HQ. Hyoubu names the cruise ship after Azusa, calling the boat “Eternal Darkness” while he calls the submarine “Pyromania”. Eternal Darkness is the name of Azusa’s alias as king while Pyromania is a reference to his daughter’s name when she becomes the Princess of espers. The submarine originally didn’t have a name at first but once he become a father, he ends up dedicating the submarine to Dominique.

* Despite Hyoubu being incredibly powerful, Azusa only felt calm and collected whenever he’s with Hyoubu. Though Hyoubu is very powerful, Azusa has never shown fear towards Hyoubu at all, even when Hyoubu is intimidating his enemies and showing his powers. An example of this comfort is Hyoubu is when Azusa sees Hyoubu in his Unlimited Mode for the first time. Despite Unlimited Mode Hyoubu being strong enough to destroy aircraft with his energy sword and destroy entire buildings, Azusa only remained calm and affectionate to him despite Hyoubu’s immense power. Azusa even hugged Hyoubu while in this mode. Hyoubu, despite being in Unlimited Mode, never harmed Azusa and even though Azusa was incredibly comfortable in the presence of Unlimited Hyoubu, still asked Azusa if he feels comfortable and safe and Azusa said to Hyoubu “I’m good, in fact, I feel perfectly fine around you Hyoubu. I love you and I know you so well, I know, even with all this power, you’ll never ever hurt me the same way that the people of my past have done to me.”

* Hyoubu also is very calm and composed whenever Azusa takes the form of a kitsune up to 7’9”/236 cm tall. So Azusa has a 7 ft Kitsune form which he turns into usually when he feels Hyoubu or family is threatened or when greatly injured Hyoubu in some way. However, Azusa doesn’t have good control as a nine tailed Kitsune when snapped so he destroys everything his path till Hyoubu calms him down. When Azusa used to take this form before joining PANDRA, people shot Azusa with guns so they could render him unconscious and sometimes even had like electric collars so when Azusa wanted to transform, his electric collar shocked him whenever he did so. Hyoubu witnesses Azusa turn into a Kitsune when someone threatened to kill Hyoubu and Azusa snaps at them for his husband being threatened in such a way and mauled him as a kitsune. However, there was an issue. Kitsune Azusa is hard for Azusa to transform back from while angered as he usually has a beast-like mind when doing so. Hyoubu, instead of hurting Azusa as a kitsune, goes up to Azusa and pets him despite this giant kitsune being as large as a building and having just mauled someone to death. Along with Hyoubu petting him, Hyoubu praises and compliments Azusa so much, telling Azusa is is very adorable fox. Hyoubu remains extremely composed and doesn’t exhibit fear to the giant fox. This causes Azusa to calm down and turn back. Whenever Azusa transforms back from giant fox, Azusa always collapses and Hyoubu knowing that Azusa used the last of his energy on his opponent, Hyoubu always tells Azusa “You did very well My Azusa, please take some time to rest.”

* One of the reasons why Hyoubu wants to take over the world to create an esper society with Azusa as his King, asides from esper rights, is so Azusa doesn’t get hurt and live in a state of fear and hatred ever again. Hyoubu doesn’t want Azusa to suffer again and he believes that if Hyoubu achieves his goal, he believes Azusa can live happily without having to worry about being traumatized ever again. Azusa shares this same belief for Hyoubu too, he wants Hyoubu to create a new society is so that Hyoubu, his family, and PANDRA can live in a world where they don’t have to be in a constant state of fear and such.

* Hyoubu is the very first person in Azusa’s life and how through Hyoubu, Hyoubu viewed Azusa as he looked at Azusa more than just some monstrous esper assassin. tells Azusa he has such outstanding powers when Azusa tells Hyoubu that his power is garbage, learns the feelings of love and compassion as well as being able to finally express his emotions; things that Azusa never had gotten a chance to experience prior to meetinh Hyoubu; and Hyoubu; despite being a criminal; is always seen showcasing love and concern for Azusa, always asking them if they’re ok before engaging on missions. Azusa always makes sure that his lover is feeling well and comfortable.

* Azusa starts to feel comfortable with his powers once he settled into P.A.N.D.R.A. However, Azusa wasn’t always like this. In fact, even when Azusa first joined PANDRA. Azusa used to hate being an esper and Like even Azusa still kept onto his limiter even after leaving his former group and even after leaving, he still allowed the shock of his collar limiter hurt his body whenever he wanted to activate his powers because he thought he deserved it. His former group used to do this to Azusa and that’s how they got him into obeying them for so long. One day, Hyoubu hears Azusa’s screams from subjecting himself to his painful limiter. Hyoubu showcases concern for Azusa and Hyoubu’s expression was a saddening one. Hyoubu asked Azusa what’s wrong and why he is subjecting himself to such painful methods. Azusa tells Hyoubu how he subjects himself to the pain of his Limiter believing that he deserves the pain he has gotten and even called himself a “brainless monster” believing no one would love someone weak and unlovable like him. He also tells Hyoubu that this is the only way Azusa could control his powers. However, Hyoubu greatly disagrees with Azusa and tells Azusa “He isn’t a monster and even tells Azusa that he’s much stronger than a monster. Hyoubu also tells Azusa that he admires his powers, his bravery for overcoming his traumatizing past, and reminds Azusa that Hyoubu loves Azusa a lot and believes the espers that Hyoubu and Azusa will ally with down the road will love him greatly and view him as their King. Hyoubu tells Azusa that he no longer has to hold back his powers any longer, reminding Azusa formed PANDRA in the first place so Azusa could use his powers openly without being seen as a monster, and even tells Azusa he is freely allowed to use his powers in PANDRA and even tells Azusa that if he wants to learn how to use his powers, Hyoubu offers him a lessons to do so. After that, Hyoubu hugs Azusa and ends up removing the Limiter from Azusa and spends the rest of the day comforting him.

* When Hyoubu and Azusa started dating, Azusa was very slow to Hyoubu’s romantic affection and didn’t quite understand the traditions of romantic holidays such as White Day. After all, this is the first time Azusa has ever shown romantic love for someone before and was very clueless on holidays to the point that Azusa learned that Halloween was a holiday after escaping. However, even though it took Azusa a long time to learn these things and was slow when it came to romance, Azusa was never afraid to learn these things and in fact; Azusa was fascinated with how people experience romantic love for each other. One of those times where Azusa learns about the traditions of how people show romantic love is Valentines Days. Weeks prior to Valentines Day, Azusa notices, people are buying very expensive chocolate and Azusa was wondering why every one was buying so much of it, someone was like “Chocolate is a very gift you give to loved ones. If the person you love is your lover, you give them expensive chocolates and such. Sometimes, lovers show their love for someone even further by buying them giant bears and cards.” After Azusa hears about, Azusa is like “Alrighty that makes sense now. I’ll give Hyoubu so many chocolates and gifts!” so Azusa commissions a chocolatier to make him four boxes of high quality expensive V-Day chocolate, buys a giant fox plush that has “I Love Hyoubu.” embroidered on the fur and has a heart plush in its mouth, buys a giant bouquet of roses, and bought half of V-Day cards in stock in his local department store to the point that half of the rows were empty. Everyone thought Azusa was nuts but Azusa was like “You guys said you give gifts to your lover so I did.” On V-Day, Azusa shows off all the gifts Hyoubu bought him. Hyoubu was only surprised by this because Hyoubu didn’t know Azusa went shopping heavily for gifts. Azusa tells Hyoubu that “I learned that Valentines Day is a day where you show strong romance feelings to your lover and one of those ways is buying them gifts so I thought, I would do the same.” Azusa tells Hyoubu. This causes Hyoubu to smile happily and look at Azusa with much love in his eyes. Hyoubu replies with “Azusa, I will always love you with all my heart and that makes me happy!” Hyoubu compliments and praises Azusa for learning about Valentine Day’s and showing a lot love for him.

* Azusa has a made a promise to Hyoubu that if Hyoubu starts to get crippled and stuff due to his old age, Azusa refuses to leave him. Instead, Azusa takes care of him in his state of old age and helps Hyoubu around such as Azusa helping Hyoubu eat his meals and walk around the house since sometime soon, Hyoubu will no longer be able to do those things on his own anymore and Azusa wants to make sure that he is loved and cared for. Hyoubu is Azusa’s dearest treasure and wants Hyoubu to know that.

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dc-marvel-life · 5 years

Text

When Did This Happen

Request: Crossover. Jason Todd X Stark! Reader. Tony sends his daughter to live with Bruce during infinity war. Jason comforts her with happy ending and when Tony comes backs they are engaged.

Pairing: Jason Todd X reader and Tony X daughter!reader

Word Count: 2110

A/N: This was taken place during infinity war and right before the five year jump in endgame

Y/N was rushing trying to fit all her clothes into one suitcase as fast as she can. Her dad, Tony Stark also known as Iron Man, told her that she needs to leave soon because of this alien guy with a really big glove is trying to kill everyone. Tony is very protective of his only daughter and doesn’t want her hurt. A few years ago, while Tony and Bruce were missing around trying to make Ultron, they accidentally made a portal to another universe. Of course, they were curious and went through the portal to find out they are in a city called Gotham. They explore the city and then found out that there are superheros in this universe with other teams just like them. They found out the most popular and well-known team was called justice league. Tony and Bruce was able to get a meeting with the justice league so they can talk and also find a way out because they were stuck there. Once they all met, everyone got along just fine and expectantly Tony and and Batman. The justice league help them make a bomtube to get back to there universe and still come back. They all keep in contact with each just in case they needed help from one another. Once Thanos became a real threat he knew that he need to get Y/N out of here as fast as he could. He called up Bruce Wayne and asked if Y/N can stay with them for a while. Bruce said yes and that Y/N can stay as long as needed.

“Y/N are you all packed and ready to go” Tony said in a hurry.

“No I have a little more packing to do dad I will be-” Y/N said but was interrupted by Tony closing her suitcase.

“I am sorry but we don’t have that much time sweetie. Here take this, I made a bank account over there. When you get there you can spend as much money on new clothes as you want, but now it is time to go” Tony hands Y/N a black card. Tony gets Y/N’s suitcase and heads towards the portal that he made in his lab, where Happy and Piper are standing to say bye.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you guys. I can fight,” Y/N looks at Tony “just give me a suit and you will see” Y/N begs Tony with tears in her eyes.

“I am sorry sweetheart, but you need to go because if you are here, all I am going to worry about if your safety. I just want you safe and out of harm. Now Bruce Wayne is a nice man with kids too, and some of them are around your age. I promise everything is going to be okay and we will see each other again” Tony says while giving Y/N one last hug. Then Happy and Piper come over and hug Y/N too. Y/N grabs her suitcase while Tony turns on the portal.

“Bye” Y/N says then walks through the portal and ends up in a telephone booth in a dark alley. Y/N exits the booth and looks around at the dark surroundings. Then all of a sudden, bright lights blinds Y/N, and hears a car door opens and closes.

“Hello Miss Stark, My name is Alfred and I will be taking you to the Wayne Manor. Do you need me to grab your bag. Y/N shakes her head no and walks towards the car. Alfred opens the door for Y/N and puts her suitcase in the trunk. Y/N is sitting quietly in the back of the car already missing home. Without realizing the car stops and Alfred opens the door of Y/N.

“Miss Stark, we are here” Alfred says.

“You don’t need to call me Miss. Stark you can all me-” Y/N says then stops once she sees the mansion that she is in front of.

“What do you want me to call you Miss Stark” Alfred says while seeing what is wrong with Y/N.

“This house is huge” Y/N says in shock. Now Y/N has seen some big houses, and she has lived in them, but nothing can compare to this place.

“Oh yes it is Miss Stark, but don’t worry. You’ll get used to it” Alfred says while getting Y/N’s suitcase.

“Y/N, you can all me Y/N Alfred” Y/N says and nods. Alfred and Y/N walk up to the house together with Y/N dragging along her suitcase, and the front doors open. Y/N can see a very well built almost middle age, but a little younger than her dad at the door. Once she gets closer, she sees that there are other people behind him.

“Hello Y/N and welcome to my home. I know this might be scary for you by coming to a stranger’s house and have to stay with him for awhile, but I promise you that everything will be okay. I know your father well and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are safe. Before you get settle in, I want you to meet my sons. There is Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian” Bruce says their names and pointing at each one. Y/N’s stare was on Jason the whole time without him even noticing.

“So you had all these kids and still have time to be Batman” Y/N says trying to get her mind off of Jason and how hot he looks. Bruce chuckles.

“No I am his only blood child here” Damian says while still checking her out to see that if she is a threat. While Dick was excited to have another person in the house he can talk to that wasn’t any of the boys, Jason was just interested in her from the start but he didn’t know why, and Tim was too busy in his head trying to work out a code.

“Okay that’s cool” Y/N laughs just thinking that Damian is a cute kid.

“Do you want me to show you to your room Y/N” Alfred says.

“Yes please” Y/N says and follows Alfred to her room then he gives her a mini house tour, so that she doesn’t get lost. After the mini your of the place, Y/N went back to her room and pulled out a phone. Tony made a phone where they can still be in contact with each other, so Y/N sends him a text saying that she is safe and that she is liking the place already. Then Y/N starts to get sleepy after the long day, so she turns it in for the night.

A few days past and Y/N has started to get used living her already. Of course she knows about everybody’s night activities and yes is okay with that. It is just like being home for her. She helps Alfred around the house with the cleaning and cooking. She doesn’t know how he does it all by himself including in this mansion. She even helps when the boys come back from portal by cleaning, tending, or stitching up wounds. Damian normally doesn’t ask for her help, but when it is a hard to reach place, she comes over and help and he doesn’t say a thing. Tim normally doesn’t come back with anything too serious. Dick normally does it himself, but ask Y/N for assistants. Bruce is a big boy and doesn’t need help unless he is bleeding on the floor. Jason on the other hand always needs Y/N to help him with something big or small. Just the other night Jason ask Y/N to look at a paper cut and to kiss it better. It was just a normal night in the batcave and everybody got back okay. Everybody was tending to their own things and Jason was looking for Y/N to help him clean a small knife wound that he got. He looked all around the cave and couldn’t find her.

“Hey guys, have you seen Y/N yet?” Jason says kind of worrying.

“Well she normally calls her dad before we come back, so she might still be talking to him” Dick says fully out of his suit. Something wasn’t sitting right with Jason so he quickly cleans his wound and goes to Y/N’s room. He knocks on the door and doesn’t get a response.

“Hey Y/N, it’s me Jason. Are you alright?” Jason says while knocking on the door lightly. There is still no response and he hears slight crying coming from her room. He turns the knob to see if it is lock, and it is not so he walks in and sees Y/N in the dark in her bed in a ball. In no time, Jason rushes to Y/N’s side and holds her tight. Y/N automatically holds Jason tightly like he is going to disappear into dust. After a few minutes of crying Y/N finally starts to talk.

“My dad didn’t pick up the phone. He always picks up the phone just to make sure that he is alright. I have been calling and texting him for hours and still no response” Y/N says with a few tears falling out her eyes. Jason wipes away the tears.

“I bet he is just busy kicking some alien’s ass tonight and will get back to you tomorrow” Jason says and Y/N just nods her head.

“Can you stay with me tonight? I can’t be alone tonight” Y/N says.

“Of course I will” Jason says and pulls the blanket over them. That night was the night where they just talked the whole night. That was also the first night where Jason realize that he cared deeply about Y/N. For the next few months, everything was going fine and Jason and Y/N got even closer to each other, and spent a lot of time with one another. Jason finally got the nerve to ask Y/N out and of course she said yes. Everybody thought they were just the cutest couple even Damian thinks so.

Then year has past and only a few days have past in Y/N’s universe, time does work differently in every universe. Now after all the events are taken place and Tony is return to the Avengers’ base fully woken and sees that Piper is okay, he needs to make sure that his daughter is okay too. He goes to his lab and fires up the port, he goes through it and ends up in the phone booth just like Y/N did on her first night there. Tony was able to get a cab to take him to Wayne Manor. He pays the cab driver and runs up to the door and knocks. Alfred comes a few seconds later and opens the door.

“Is Y/N here?” Tony says out of breath.

“Yes she is sir, let me get her” Alfred says and goes and get Y/N. Y/N was confuse who was at the door for her because she never got any visitors. She got up slowly with Jason slowly following behind her. Once Y/N gets to the door and sees it is her dad, she jumps up and give him a hug.

“Oh I have missed you so much” Y/N slightly crying tears of joy.

“I have missed you too sweetheart. Now it is time to go home” Tony says and Y/N smile turns into a frown. Tony is slightly confused about this because he thought she would be thrilled to come home by now.

“What is wrong sweetheart?” Tony asks in concern. Jason comes behind Y/N and hugs her protectively.

“Dad we are engaged” Y/N says and holds up the ring that is on her finger.

“When did this happen!” Tony says in surprise.

“Let’s go inside and talk okay” Y/N say while pulling Tony in. Y/N talks and explains to Tony everything that has happen and that they are in love. Tony accepts what has happened to his little girl and lets her stay.

“You better come and visit me, and not make me a granddad too soon okay” Tony says and laughs.

“Alright dad” Y/N says and hugs Tony one last time before he leaves. She hopes to see him again soon.

#batfamily #batman #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #Marvel Comics #marvel #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #Avengers

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ohnomybreadsticks · 5 years

Text

The final prompt fill is for my darling @thislittlekumquat who asked for “Chloe and North "get lost" en route to meet the boys (who went ahead of them) for a group vacation, and they "get snowed in" and have to "take refuge" in a cozy cabin along the way for a night (read: there was a flurry and they used it as a hilarious excuse to spend some alone time)”

For context, this is set in our universe where Chloe, North, Simon, Markus, and Josh are all together in a polyamorous relationship. So polycho, but also with Chloe ;)

I made it extra soft and fluffy and cheesy just for you! <3

---

North let the dull scenery of the Detroit freeways slide past her eyes as the self driving car carried herself and Chloe out of the city. It was the beginning of winter, and with that came the gray sky and the gray trees and the gray feeling. But here, cuddled up in the backseat with a soft hand held in her own, North felt as if the gray couldn’t quite reach her. Chloe was holding her hand and tracing soft circles onto the top of her hand with a thumb, the sensation gentle and comforting. Their synthetic skin was still intact, both of them savoring the others’ presence without the need for an interface right this moment. The silence in the car was anything but uncomfortable, especially after the whirlwind of activity in Jericho.

After their boys had gone ahead to the hotel for their week-long vacation, North and Chloe had stayed behind an extra half a day to get a few final press releases squared away. It was better to put in the effort now, they had rationalized, as opposed to coming back to an absolute shitstorm of human and android news media trying to find fault with their absence. Even the heads of a huge political organization needed some time alone though, and this vacation was far overdue. They all had their ways of coping, North knew, but some of them coped better than others. And even the most steadfast of them all had been suffering. She glanced over at Chloe, watching the way her LED flickered and stuttered softly as she turned over whatever thoughts were running through her head. They were all in need of some good stasis, and some time to remind each other of what it felt like to be surrounded by only love and care.

The car continued to speed onwards, headed for the spa resort about three hours away that Josh had found. It was secluded, nearby to several small towns they could explore if they wanted to, and best of all, if they didn’t want to leave their rooms they didn’t have to. It was an android-inclusive hotel and spa experience, which was thankfully becoming more common, especially around Detroit. So for now, the two androids had the car to themselves for several hours before they had to worry about interacting with anyone else. North was spending her time going over old memory files and deciding if they were really worth keeping. It was a mindless enough task, and it freed up some processor space. Next to her, Chloe was engaged in some similar task, both of their eyes open but not really taking in any visual input.

That was, until Chloe sat up straighter with a jolt, shaking North’s hand excitedly as she exclaimed “Oh look North, snow!” North startled slightly, but once she recovered from the surprise, she was able to look out the front windshield and confirm that yes, those were snowflakes drifting down from the clouds. Not too many, mind you, but enough flakes to be noticeable as they drove. North was about to say something about how they were lucky it was just a little flurry and not enough to delay their trip, when she looked over and saw how Chloe’s eyes were lit up with wonder at the sight. Her thirium pump hummed softly in her chest at how soft and beautiful her girlfriend looked when she was so happy. It was enough to spark an answering thrum of happiness in North.

As they continued to drive, the snow managed to gather in a light dusting along the roadside, giving everything a slight covering of white. Not enough to make conditions dangerous, but the scenery certainly looked more like winter now. Chloe had been practically pressed to the window since it started, happily watching the flakes swirl in the wind. And North, well, North was happy to watch her girlfriend, their hands still clasped gently between them. This meant that she saw the billboard at the same time as Chloe, who let out a wistful little sigh as she pointed it out.

“Look North, they have little log cabins you can stay in out here!” Chloe said, “I’ve only ever seen those in movies...I bet they’re wonderfully cozy.” She turned her attention from the window, and North recognized the big old puppy dog eyes as soon as she saw them. Chloe didn’t often ask for things, in fact, that was something they had worked on getting better at together. So when she did, North was very likely to fold almost immediately. She had a will of iron when it came to Simon (well, not really, but she made him beg for longer), but she couldn’t deny her girlfriend anything that might make her smile.

LED spinning, North changed the destination in the GPS of their car, and Chloe let out a happy little squeak as soon as she noticed. “Thank you North!” She exclaimed, turning and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, her smile pressing against North’s neck. “Anything for you, dearest.” North replied, smiling in return as she pressed a kiss to Chloe’s temple. It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination, a quaint little cabin announcing itself as the lobby and check-in with a fairly full parking lot. At least everything looked clean and above-board, which soothed a lot of North’s anxieties.

As they exited the car, North let Chloe grab their bags as she made a call to Markus’ phone. He was the most likely to pick up without panicking (Simon), and he would probably go along with her little game without asking too many questions (Josh). “Hello dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Came his reassuring voice on the other side of the line. North smiled to herself as she answered “Hi babe. Look, there’s snow starting to come down pretty hard here, so Chloe and I have decided to pull off the road and spend the night in a little motel.” As she lied through her teeth, she watched Chloe gleefully holding out her hand and trying to catch the tiny flakes falling from the sky. There wasn’t even enough snow to stick to the pavement yet.

And yet...from the other side of the line, Markus let out a soft, concerned noise and said “Oh, I’m glad you two are safe. Don’t worry about the delay, we’re all settled into the room here and can wait for you.” North had known Markus for long enough that she could almost hear the way his processors must be whirring, pulling up weather reports and road safety websites before realizing what was actually going on. “Thanks.” She said, and she hoped that the genuine warmth in it came across the phone, “You take good care of those boys while we’re gone, alright?” Markus simply chuckled and replied “Simon will be inconsolable, but I’ll do my best.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before North hung up to walk over and pick Chloe up by the waist, swinging her in a little circle. “Alright, the boys are taken care of, are you ready for our little cabin adventure?” She asked, delighting in the breathless laughter she had managed to pull out of her girlfriend. Chloe nodded excitedly, and from there it was a bit of a whirlwind of talking to a very helpful employee to get one cabin for one night, dragging their luggage across a ridiculously long distance, and fighting with the instructions for lighting the little fireplace. By the time they had settled in, the sun was going down and things were beginning to look truly cozy. The inside of the cabin was warm and nicely decorated, exposed polished logs and rich red plaid furnishings completing the ‘rustic’ look.

Plopping down on the sofa, North let out a satisfied sigh, watching Chloe bustle happily around the little living room. “This was a really nice idea.” She admitted, the fire popping and crackling in the background the only noise aside from the two of them. This place really was nicely secluded. “Wait until I show you my other very nice idea” Chloe said with a wink, disappearing into the bedroom and reappearing with two soft fleecy onesies clutched in her arms. “I got us matching pajamas. I know it’s a little selfish, but I...wanted to do something special with you.” She admitted, a light dusting of blue blush appearing across her cheeks. North was up on her feet and pulling her into a hug before she could doubt herself any further.

“It’s perfect, I love it.” North said with a beaming smile, “And I love you.” She punctuated this sentiment by leaning down and pressing a kiss to Chloe’s forehead, which only made the blue blush worse. They wasted no time in getting into the onesies, the soft fleecy material heavenly against synthetic skin, but even better against bare chassis. Snuggled up in bed, their clasped hands were white this time, pleasant feelings and thoughts flowing easily between them in a casual interface. Some movie or another was on the television, but North was only half paying attention. Her free hand was too busy gently brushing through Chloe’s hair as her girlfriend hummed softly along to whatever theme song the movie was playing.

Suddenly, North was struck with a thought, and looked down at Chloe with a questioning stare. “Did you...plan this? This worked out way too well for you to not have.” She asked, and the mischievous smile that spread across Chloe’s face immediately confirmed her suspicions. “I couldn’t help myself, the cabin looked so cozy!” She complained, curling in closer and draping herself across North’s chest dramatically. North found herself helplessly chuckling at how she had been ‘tricked’, all of Chloe’s little play acting crystal clear as she replayed the memories in her mind’s eye. But she couldn’t even bring herself to pretend to be angry at the other woman, instead tilting her chin up to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I couldn’t help myself, you looked too cute.” North retorted when Chloe blinked up at her with wide, surprised eyes. The cabin filled easily with the sound of their laughter, and North considered once again just how lucky she was to love and be loved.

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh north #dbh chloe #Chloe/North #North/Chloe #polycho #bready's fic #request fill #thislittlekumquat

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beewishing · 5 years

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new moon manifestation

i use the shadow this eclipse provides to identify and face my fears, my wounds, and my own shadow self. i make healing the primary focus in my life. i step into the happiness and inner peace that i deserve and desire. my life is always changing for the better.

606 i let go of my unneeded negativity. when i face problems, i no longer ask why i have to deal with them. instead i ask: what are they here to teach me? when i see myself, i don’t zero in on my flaws. instead i see myself as a whole person, worthy of love, filled with inherent beauty. when i am hurt, i don’t lash out or ruminate. instead, i find something to help, or i accept that it’s outside of my control. i allow myself to feel and express my emotions, without letting them control or overwhelm me. i let go of my obsessive tendencies and behaviors, i recognize when they are harmful and remove them from my life. i let go of any urge to act or speak passive aggressively. i do not expect others to read my mind or my heart; i understand and accept that if i want people to know what i think and how i feel, i must communicate those things with them. i instead speak my mind and express myself clearly. i let go of negative images and self talk, i accept and cherish my body as it is. i let go of my self-sabotaging tendencies and behaviors. i let go of the urge to hold myself back. i let go of the urge to stay stagnant and unmoving. i let go of my shame. i let go of my abandonment issues. i let go of my insecurities. i let go of all people and situations where i am used, unappreciated, unwanted, or unloved. i let go of all doubt, especially self doubt. i let go of the urge to close myself off. i let go of the urge to protect myself when it isn’t necessary. i let go of unnecessary criticisms, both from myself and others, i do not let them influence my outlook or myself. i let go of my lust for results, i do not rush through things, i do not ignore all the good in the present while yearning for the future. i let go of my need for control. i let go of the urge to allow my emotions to control me. i let go of any fear of the future, fear of moving forward, fear of making change, fear of getting better. i let go of pride that tells me i don’t need help, that i shouldn’t ask for help, that i’m better off on my own, that i’m better if i do things without any help. i let go of outdated or unhelpful coping mechanisms, behaviors, habits, patterns, strategies, and thoughts. i let go of and release the fears created by trauma.

626 - i see things clearly. clarity is a constant part of my life. i do not settle for anything less than i deserve. i do not hold myself back with fear or doubt. i let go of anything that holds me back. i do not shy away from things that are hard, instead i embrace them with the intention of growth and learning. i love, accept, and embrace every single part of myself, even the parts i wish to change. i deal with all issues that crop up in my life, i do not let them fester or grow with inattention, i take care of them as soon as i notice them. i uncover all the hidden problems in my life and begin working to solve them.

838 - my life is unfolding exactly as it should. my intentions and clear and enforced by my efforts. i give my energy only to what i am connected to and meant to do. i communicate clearly, easily, openly, and constantly. i am completely honest with myself and with others. i work myself out of complacency and unnecessary caution. i make changes easily knowing that they are necessary for growth and expansion. i take leaps of faith knowing my faith is not unfounded, and that i will be taken care of. clarity flows through every aspect of my life. i work through difficult conversations mindfully and intentionally. i think before i speak, choose my words carefully, and make sure my meaning is made clear. i do not leave upsets or misunderstandings to fester, i bring them up and discuss them until they are resolved healthily on all sides. i am committed to complete, unembellished truth in all conversations.

846 abundance is an infinite part of my life. i let go of what makes me stuck. i let go of the past. i don’t worry about what’s coming, i allow the future to unfold in alignment. i do not worry about what will or won’t come, i let what is meant to happen come, and what isn’t meant to happen go. the work i do now creates long-term impact. i am setting myself up for success each time i prioritize and take care of my work. i do not confuse my sense of self with the amount that i work. i take pride in the work i do and the impact it has- both on myself and others. the work i do leaves a positive impression on those it comes in contact with. my work comes from a place of love and a desire to help. success is drawn into my life.

858 i invest in my well-being. i freely spend time, energy, and money to meet my needs and ensure every part of me (mind, heart, body, spirit) is taken care of, and i do so without guilt or regret. i know that everything i spend on meeting myself and ensuring my well-being is a necessary and well-spent investment that provides infinite returns. i focus on my health, body mentally and physically. i take the necessary steps and make the necessary changes to ensure that i am healthy and thriving. i know and own my self-worth. i respect and live up to my inherent worth. i encourage and cultivate kindness; in myself, my life, the world and the people around me. i am loving, caring, and kind to myself at all times. i am gentle with myself when needed, and also firm with myself when needed. i am not afraid or unable to give myself tough love when it is necessary. i hold myself accountable. i journal and write regularly, giving myself a creative outlet, a place where i can speak freely and easily without fear of judgement. i express myself constantly, in order to better and fully understand myself. i put my ideas and intentions into words, thereby inviting them into my life. i make my dreams into my reality. i identify and work through my doubts until they no longer are capable of holding me back or keeping me stagnant. i am certain and sure that i will achieve all of my goals and true desires.

99 i treat my body with care and kindness. i find affordable healthy foods that i enjoy making and eating. i find a workout routine that helps me feel, look, and be healthy and amazing. i am comfortable in my body. i love the way i look. i feel good about myself and my body. i present myself in a way that makes me feel good about how i and other people see me. i constantly find clothes that i love, that i can afford, that fit me exactly right, and that look amazing on me. i collect an entire wardrobe of clothes that i love, that look flattering on me, and that make me feel good when wearing them. i don’t hold onto clothes that i don’t like, i sell or donate them.

78 i am comfortable in my home. i create a space that is open and inviting, that makes me feel good just by stepping into it, and makes the people i invite into my home feel just as good, comfortable, and welcome there as i do. i decorate in a way that makes it feel like mine, leaving traces of myself in each space.

933 i know who i am. i know every aspect of myself. i know that my heart is capable of healing from the wounds of my past. i control my own future. i do not mistake my past for myself as a person. i separate the things that happened in my past from my self image. i work to understand and meet each one of my needs. i appreciate every aspect of myself. i am sure of myself and my potential. i develop and cultivate self acceptance. i give myself the love, care, affection, and tenderness that i crave. i allow myself to be vulnerable and trusting. i put myself out there. i speak both my mind and my heart.

944 i trust myself and my creation process. i give myself time to grow and heal, i do not rush my process. i focus on mindfulness and enjoying the process of creation and the passing of time. i enjoy all the little moments, not just the massive shifts and end results. i focus less on what i can get from my creations, and more on what i can give to them.

110 i identify and work towards my life purpose. i focus on my spirituality and all that it means to me. i explore my spirituality, learning more about it and myself in the process. i engage in creative and positive activities that will enhance my life. i am grateful for all the blessings in my life, those i have already received, and those that are still on their way. i am productive. i use my talents, skills, and creativity, to further my productivity. i am not afraid to be different or stand out. i accept and embrace my differences, seeing them as the blessings, gifts, and opportunities that they are.

333 i enjoy all the new possibilities and brand new chapters that usher in connection and love. i open myself and allow myself to listen to the universe. i hear and receive all messages meant for me. i resolve my issues. i connect with my emotions. i work on myself. i make sure i am balanced and centered. i know what i desire and what i deserve. i make every effort to receive what i desire and deserve. i know that what i desire and deserve will always come to me. i step back and give it the time necessary to reach me. i love myself. i attract only those who will love me and treat me with as much care and kindness as i deserve. i am on the right path. things are flowing and moving in my favor. the messages and signs i receive are clear, direct, and evident. i love every aspect of my life. i am overflowing with love. my plans are going well. i am protected along every step of my path and my life. i am persistent. my life will continue to get better and better with time. i continue moving forward and trust that i am safe and protected. (a physical feeling of warmth on my right knee as i write this, like someone resting their hand there, comforting)

954 i create my own reality. i pay attention to my thoughts and dreams. i receive answers and guidance from my thoughts and dreams. i create joyfully.

55 i am in tune with my emotions without letting them rule me. i accept all guidance and support offered. i ask for guidance and support when i need it.

959 i surround myself with people who understand me. i put in the effort necessary to be seen, heard, and truly understood. i open myself up to this understanding.

1010 i speak my truth and express my authentic self. i express my emotions and put my feelings into words in ways that are in harmony with my soul. i support my soul and find inner peace. i listen to my body, notice my feelings, and speak my truth in order to take back my power. i give power to my voice and courageously speak and express my truth. i experience healing moments of revelation. i am aware of my place in and my connection to the universe. i pay attention to and work on strengthening and developing my energetic connections. i use my creation ability to make things better in whatever way i can. i explore and expand my talents and abilities, exploring and expanding myself and the world around me in the process. my prayers and wishes have been heard and are being responded to.

1015 i respark my soul and rebuild my energy.

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