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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

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yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon, profanity, abuse, anger issues, anxiety, arson, bullying, child neglect, child abuse, drugs, addiction, anorexia, guilt, pills, unprotected sex, stalking, trauma

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM - PART TWO

IN THE TRAILER

She ran away from him in the hallway.

He’d warned her of what would happen if she did.

Knowing it was a matter of when as the next day he was left waiting, grazing the halls of where she’d left him with a kicked ball-sack on the dirty school-floors, all lovesick and frenzied with fire ants raging over his skin and a manic promise that one way or the other he’d get her. Lying in suspenseful spiteful wait to tell everyone what type of slut the little spitball in class 3c General Studies really was.

But, timing was everything, and as the day went by without him spotting her he realized the opportunity to ruin her reputation in school wasn’t going to rear its head.

She was home…

Sick.

Or, that’s what she’d told the school. One quick question at the reception told him so.

She was home.

Home in that run-down trailer-park sorry-excuse for a home she despised, the one she cried about so often, the one with neighbours who didn’t give two shits worth a damn about who she was or that her mother was a crackhead-whore in no position to take care of her.

She was there instead of at school begging him to stop, begging for him to give her a second chance, begging him to kiss her, like she was supposed to do.

Standing outside her trailer, he wondered if whether her mom was home or not. He wondered if either one of her neighbours would care if they saw him break in, if it even was considered breaking in.

He spotted her mother slouched on a beach-chair beside some other trailer with a needle still stuck to her arm, ugly destroyed skin sizzling in the summer-heat, mouldy flip-flops sticking to her feet.

He cringed at the sight of it, but knew then that his pursuit would go on unprovoked, which at the very least brought him some sense of relief.

She’d gotten in through scholarship as she in no form or way could afford a school like UA. That much was clear, unlike how unclear the crystal-meth shards decorating the plastic salon-table placed on the outside of their van was.

She transferred half-way through the first year, all on the account of pure hard work.

He could respect that.

He did respect that. Given she was quirkless and all. It was the reason she’d caught his eye.

It all went sideways when she rejected his invitation to Homecoming.

He’d already gone miles away out of his comfort-zone, out of his element, talked himself into asking her out, only for her to turn him down.

Him.

Best student in Hero-course 1A at the time.

Rejected.

He knew it was petty of him to bully her because of it, but… she didn’t only make a fool out of him, she broke his fucking heart.

He could have listened to Kiri, and tried to forget about her through some other extra, but... he wanted her. He’d decided. She was his. And a quirkless trailer-rat like her was in no position to just say no.

In some sick sense he believed she deserved better. Him being better. But, he would like for her to ask for his help, instead of him just giving it to her. He would like to see her grovel, beg, just a little bit, or a lot. He wanted to see her regret her decision. He wanted to see her sorry. He wanted to see her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to be her who initiated it.

But… he could see that wasn’t happening. He could see that his unorthodox methods of courting her through continuously trying to bend her until she broke only consisted of her rewinding or snapping back like a rubber-band.

She was distracted, too busy being broken by what life had given her, too busy with juggling different shifts, bills, schoolwork, to be thinking about him and how he pushed her around a bit at school.

He eyed the cracked paint of the faded trailer with much the look of a snob on his face. Fingers brushing over the door-handle, testing how much noise it would make if he were to pick the lock, coming to a complete loss.

He could barely believe it… the door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside he was even more distraught to see there was no existing lock there to be locked in the first place.

Meanwhile her mother was too busy slowly dying to better protect her daughter from depraved humans who could come and do just about anything they wanted with her.

Meaning… just look at him.

Soft snores brought him back to where he was once he closed the door behind him. Making the short way to the source of the groggy sounds, feeling his stomach flutter at the thought of how wrong it was of him to be there, sneaking about like some love-obsessed sick stalker, getting turned on by hearing his prey sleep.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

And why didn’t he care enough to stop?

He stood at the foot of her bed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the side to view her sleeping frame.

Sleeping on top of the covers, not under.

He doubted it was because of the heat, the same way he doubted the mattress beneath was clean.

She was curled onto her side, knees bent and tucked up. Cute with that teddy-bear she used as a pillow, silly and stupid but cute because of it, especially in her uniform despite having left the tie and blazer off.

She was wearing her uniform.

Meaning... she’d either gone to bed with her clothes on and slept through the entire day, or she had planned on going to school this morning, but weaseled her way out like the weakly coward she was.

Well, in that case… what he was about to do would serve her right then...

Ought to teach her lesson.

He lifted his hand out of his pocket, producing a finger to poke her ankle softly, before stroking up a path alongside her socks, all four other digits joining in the stride before the fabric came to an end and his callous fingertips glided onto the doughy flesh of her leg, over the dome of her knee and onto her even softer thigh, coming to the edge of her skirt.

He always liked her in that skirt.

That’s where his mind was at as he started lifting to see what underwear she was wearing, yet never getting that far as something sharp dug into each side of his wrist.

Her nails weren’t of course any close to lethal, yet managed to surprise him as she whipped around to meet him, digging the talons into his roughened skin.

She might not have prioritized figuring out who it was that was currently touching her in her bed, but she had assessed the situation enough to know that someone was in fact in her house and touching her, something of which is not a good omen when you live where she lived, nor in any other situation for that matter.

He tried subduing the splash of struggles that followed her awakening by climbing and crawling some further up on the bed in order to control what myriad of flailing limbs came at him.

Soon, hands that had primly started clawing at him were safely locked in his much larger hands.

“Oi, relax! It’s just me!”

As if it being him would have any other effect than of rising her already racing heartbeats. Yet, even as her lungs heaved for as much air as her tight chest would allow her, he managed to capture her focus, her hands pinned to each side of her head whereas her feet were stopped amidst their kicking, crushed beneath the weight of the much stronger, much more encompassing mass and weight of Katsuki’s legs.

He hunched over her, back arching with his face a mere half-foot away from her own, the only thing supporting his upper-body being his arms, which were stretched out and grasping at her wrists, pushing them into her pillow.

Her eyes were large with craze-ridden fear as they locked with his recognizable carmine ones.

“Bakugo?”

Shocked and scared, with the creeping feeling of anticipation waving over her again, now all for different reasons then when she first understood there was an intruder in her caravan.

Somehow, it being Bakugo gave her an even starker unsettling eerie feeling than if it had been a total stranger. Maybe because oblivion is bliss and knowing what is to come makes the inevitable that much more inescapable.

Still, she demanded he tell her, even though she thought she might already know the answer.

“What are you doing? Why are you here!?”

“You weren’t at school.” He stated, spoken as though it preforming as explanation enough, though serving as far from it to the girl beneath him, the confusion shown in the way she scrunched her brows together.

He noticed, contemplating whether or not he should make his reasons known, but deciding against it and for playing with her for just a little while longer.

“I thought, since you managed to wiggle your way out of your punishment at school, I’d bring the punishment to you.”

He searched her features for any cracks in her composure, but though she looked beyond uncomfortable, she made no moves to push him off.

Her eyes squinted instead, narrowing at him.

“I’m not scared of you, Bakugo. I know you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Her body started twisting under him. The action far from vigorous, mainly meant to show her discomfort as she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere unless Katsuki decided she could.

And though the intention to her wiggling was not to evoke his arousal, it most certainly managed to do just that.

He inhaled sharply and she felt her body freeze up, seize at the feel of his hips making a shift to slot himself against her, grinding down onto her flattened and unmoving body.

“Hurt you?”

He let out a low rumble of a laugh, like building thunder.

“Who said anything about hurting you?”

Her breath strained as his eyes scrunched closed upon her jerking, his own teeth sinking into his bottom-lip to maintain the hiss on his tongue at the pull in his pants, his head descending to nuzzle against her chest, spiky hair poking at her chin.

Mouth breathing hot breaths onto her ear, causing her to whimper.

“Thought you just said you weren't scared?”

She swallowed thickly, improperly giving his rhetorical question an answer, feeling her wrists go numb under his hold and her blood running cold.

“Bakugo…?”

He didn’t answer and she felt herself go even more rigid at the absence of his voice.

It wasn’t often Katsuki didn’t speak back to her when she willingly spoke to him. In fact, it was never. But now, he was quiet, too quiet, making the frightening rugged sound of his heavy breathing overwhelm her ears, dulling her senses in the process before everything being sent into hyperdrive upon the feeling of his hand leaving her one wrist to cup her breast outside her shirt, giving the mound a careful and slow yet full squeeze.

She yelped at the sudden attack, her body jumping up against him, making yet another teasingly harsh contact with his clothed cock.

This time he hissed, both upon her delicious little struggles but also because her newly freed hand had actively made the decision to pull his hair as a desperate means of making him move.

It worked to some extent, at least in freeing her other hand which opened for the opportunity to drag herself out from beneath him.

Yet, the action was stopped in a series of rather clumsy fighting, where Bakugo managed to retract the upper-hand once again, pinning both her wrists with one hand whilst tugging loose his tie with the other.

He’d slotted himself between her legs now, her skirt spreading and hiking up her thighs as she struggled to stop him from tying her wrists together and fasting them to the handicap-bar mounted on the side of the bed, yet failing.

Her body free for him to touch now, to tamper and play with, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, small pleas coming erupting from the place because of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her, and if he did, he was electing to ignore the pitiful sounds.

His hands traveled down her sides, thumbs rubbing over the scratchy material, the fabric of her shirt stiff as a result of using dollar-store laundry detergent.

White shirt; made up of thin fabric to make the fight against the Tokyo-heat easier, yet resulting in it being so temptingly easy to make see-through with just a little spill of water. Water Katsuki was always so eager to pour, either with light teasing spritzes from his water-bottle or in carrying her over his shoulder into the showers and holding her there as the water rained down upon her, drenching both her and himself, then offering ever so mockingly if she would like to borrow a shirt, because unlike her he had a dorm-room with fresh and dry clothes, whereas she only had that one uniform and all other clothes made up of more holes than actual textile.

He chuckled at the memories as his fingers moved up-front and centre to tamper with the buttons.

“I bet you just hate this uniform, don’t yah?” His voice, although maintaining the snicker, was soft. Not loud and abrasive and rushed, but as though he was enjoying himself, thoroughly at that, drinking in the moment.

His movements too, were slow; careful.

Large warm hands stroking down the bare skin of her stomach, feeling the tremors as he did so, with eyes glued to those perfect mounds found beneath what looked like a well-worn sports-bra, making him wonder what she’d look like if he were to dress her up in expensive red lace. She’d be mouthwatering to look at either way, and breasts are just as soft whichever way they’re dressed… it’s not like the bra is staying on for too long anyway.

He swallowed thickly to stop his mouth from dripping.

He tucked her shirt out from her skirt, taking a moment to grip her midriff and squeeze to try and ease her struggling.

It only resulted in her thrashing even more, whirlwinds of panicked get-off-me’s and fuck-you’s and stop’s spilling from her mouth in rapids, but the plead seemed to repel off Bakugo’s ears like water off a ducks back where the desperation only aided in satiating his sick sadism, in the same fashion tears fell from her eyes aided in making his stomach churn or flutter with something he could only describe as bliss, her arms trying to the best of their efforts at tugging at her bonds, to no avail except for making the skin found their chaffed and sore.

He spent a few seconds deciding whether he wanted the skirt on or off as he felt up the fabric between his fingers, more memories flushing his mind with such sweet and potent nostalgia of him lifting up the short excuse for coverage in the school-halls every day to sneak a peak at her underwear, or those times he would bend her over classroom-desks and push his bulge where it would fit so snuggly against her ass.

“Kinda feels like this skirt gets shorter and shorter for each year...” He mused, stroking up the skin of her thighs, lifting the fabric in the process, revealing a pair of black cotton boxers which, despite being lackluster, forced a groan to rumble from his chest.

The fuck-you’s had turned to please’s and the change made a smirk curl onto his lips as he put his lips to the inside of her thigh before pulling away to look down at her, all spread open and quivering for him.

Breasts all perfect, squished together in the comfort of her bra, hair splayed on top of the pillow, her nose turning all red and adorable with her eyes brimming with both panic and tears.

Her skin felt so soft and untouched beneath his fingertips as he stroked up and down her thighs, pulling them towards him, as far as the bonds on her wrists would allow, slightly struggling with how much the panic had taken a hold of her, her legs kicking and flailing.

But he liked it that way.

Messy and desperate.

“Don’t be difficult, Quirkless, you’re not getting out of this.” He spoke so calmly, so collected and controlled and determined. As though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as though this was his right. “This is the only thing you’re any good for anyways.”

He leveled with her clothed little sex, slung her legs over his shoulders, watched as she squirmed upon his breath, heard her whimper and plead with his name as he stuck his tongue into the fabric, her legs doing a little involuntary kick while her thighs where firmly secured in his hands.

“Worthless quirkless little pussy on legs.”

She sobbed as his fingers latched around the ribbon of her underwear, pulling, tearing the fabric, with no need to pull it down her legs, just a need to pull them off.

A content and knowing smile made its way onto his lips, yet she was unable to see it in her position, something of which she was thankful for, or… as thankful as one can be when being defiled by a friend.

Not that Bakugo was much of a friend anymore, but he had been, at some point before he'd offered more than one concerning opinion about quirkless people and their place in the world.

Of her place in the world.

He didn’t share her nostalgia though, not when the future was smiling at him with the face of her shaven warm pussy right in front of him.

“Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me? Huh? Knew I was coming?” He teased as she shook her head sporadically, unable to form any type of words in her overwhelming embarrassment and fear and panic.

He grinned smugly, despite knowing it was due to her spot on the swimming-team she kept herself clean and hairless, also knowing that the only reason she took swimming-lessons was because she and her mom couldn’t afford the hot-water bill, making her take showers at school instead, and that a spot on the swimming-team gave her a free-ticket to using those showers anytime she wanted.

How many times had he snuck in there to watch her soap up her body?

How many times had he palmed his erection to the sight of her?

How much he’d wanted to waltz in and take her against the cold tiles, make steam roll off the walls, hearing her voice echo his name...

Now he had the real deal though, no more time for fantasies.

She was smart, she was resourceful, but not enough to put a lock on her door.

She was lucky if one thought about it.

Lucky it wasn’t just any random guy who walked in and took her like Bakugo was going to take her.

Lucky it wasn’t just anyone’s tongue jutting out to lick up her spread folds.

Lucky it was Bakugo who was hugging her thighs close to him, using them as soft warm pillows as he nuzzled between them to lick and suck and bite at the little bundle of nerves found right there in front of him.

Lucky it was Bakugo that had her squirming and quaking and whimpering and crying.

Because, taking everything into consideration, she was safe with him.

Safer than she would or even could be with anyone else for that matter.

Who else could really protect her like he could, like he will, like he has?

She should be grateful he still wants her after she rejected him, humiliated him like she did. She was sure going to pay for it tonight. But first, he could at least treat her to what she had been missing, especially when thinking of how much he was going to take from her before the day let up.

It almost made him feel bad.

Almost, being the keyword, because without it he wouldn’t have thought it funny how many noises she could make without alerting anyone from outside, how no one cared whether she blubbered out common sniveling protests and screams of his name, begging him to stop, or those equally loud yet scarce moans that sprung from her despite her not wanting them to, each time he sucked too hard or too harshly on her clit, teeth rubbing over the sensitive skin found there. Her hips dancing a panicked series of shimming from side to side, controlled in his grasp and only aiding in his tongue finding new places to lick and suck at as he laid abusive worship onto the temple between them. Nose bumping and dipping and rubbing onto places too tender as his mouth moved lower.

Her knees jolting as he kept them spread open, claws digging into the grabbable flesh each time she would pound the ball of her heel into his back, the movement always falling still upon the building simmering threat of explosions in his palms, pain much sharper than that of his nails.

She wanting nothing more but to wrench away, especially upon feeling the shameful treacherous dripping of herself down onto the bedsheets, disgusted with her body, humiliated beyond repair, with the tongue of Katsuki lapping up what mess he had made out of her, teeth from a grin gracing in feather-light motions, yet still managing to shoot electricity up her core.

All she could do was pant and sob through moans and trying her best to force out more protests even though she knew it was to no use, until she felt him pull away, leaving her cold in loss of contact with heat.

She doubted his removal was because she’d begged it from him.

Her doubts being answered as she heard the crisp clatter of a belt-buckle opening.

Her eyes were swimming, gifting her with more panic as she wasn’t even able to see what he was doing, yet knowing, again wishing she didn’t, wishing she was rather deaf as well as blind, wishing all her senses to simply give away, all so that she didn’t have to witness what she was surely soon going to have to be the victim of.

She heard the clothes dropping to the floor, looked up at him through bleary blurry eyes, still recognising the sandy nuance of his skin fully on display before her.

His large hands found her knees again, prying them open. His hips fitting between her thighs.

“Ba- ba- Baku- go, plea- please, don’t- don’t… stop.” She choked on her tears, on her fear, on her panic, on the feeling of the cold breeze making her exposed sex shiver and beg for something warm to fill it up, on her disgust.

“Don’t stop?” He snickered, pinching her clit between his fingers, making her arch with a whine before trying to wrench away, yet stopped by his hands steadying on her knees, spreading her open for him.

His cock-head delved between her folds, and he had to catch a pathetic whimper from escaping his throat, settling for biting his lip instead and ridiculing the reason as to why he was feeling so weak in the first place. Growling at the little girl beneath him, all tied up and defenceless and hopeless and pathetic, but still able to make him feel so small.

“I knew you were just a stupid slut.”

It helped hearing her scream for him.

It helped hearing her choke on her own gasps as he filled her tight little space up with the warm length of his cock.

It helped feeling her squeeze and seize around the girth of him, hugging him close and tight, filling and stretching her out so nicely.

She had resorted to hectic crying, no words, no protests, just sobbing, hiccupping, coughing up her own cries.

And, although he imagined himself growling and groaning he fell short of those guttural rusty sounds and fell prey to whimpering like a lovesick puppy humping a plushie-toy instead.

His hands holding onto her hips as though letting go meant death as he rolled his hips into her, feeling her warm velvety walls welcome him home.

It felt so good he nearly barreled over, his face buried in her chest, hand coming up to enclose over her mouth as so to stop the cries and hear those soft muffled moans she made instead.

Small stifled broken wet mews spurred into his palm, as he kissed a trail up the valley of her chest and onto her neck, whispering with his breath shaky.

“If it makes you feel any better… this is my first time too.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he was suddenly regretting his decision of being a monster, or maybe because the fright of being vulnerable disappeared at the feeling of conquering what made him afraid.

“I spread a rumour in second that I fucked Ururaka just to see your reaction.” He let out a breathy laugh, the open smile on his face indicated his nostalgia, as though it were a fond memory. “But you didn’t care at all did you?”

He snapped his hips forward, hitting something painful making her scream beneath his hand, opening it to hear her sob out in whimpers.

“Did you?!” It was accusatory and loud and right next to her ears, as he bared his teeth.

She was sure she was bleeding, feeling as though he was tearing her up, splitting her open, every harsh thrust felt deep within her abdomen, churning her guts.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor- sorry!” She spluttered out, more thick gulps of tears streaking her cheeks with red.

“You know what I think?”

He leaned in closer, his nose poking into her cheek, lips brushing her ear, hands now having moved to cup her knees, pushing them up into the bedsheets beside her shoulders, hiking her up to meet his sharp thrusts.

“I think you wanted this…”

She shook her head as his grin gleamed from seeing her discomfort.

“Leaving your door unlocked like that, you were begging for this to happen.” He laughed, biting her earlobe, heavy balls clapping against her ass.

She sniveled. “You- you know we can’t afford-” She started, but was cut off by her own broken moan as Bakugo yet again made another sharp movement, sending an earth-shattering smack to fill the crammed space of her RV, and then again cut off by Bakugo’s own response.

“Yeah? But you could still afford that dress you wore to Homecoming couldn’t you?” He sounded crazed, upset and angry and obsessed with making her regret it. “When you went with that fucking extra instead of me?”

His forehead pushed against hers, eyes a feral red and large with rage, watching in sadistic glee as she scrunched her eyes together in pain, trying to block his voice out from her head.

“Yeah, I bet you’re sorry now.” He growled, again taking a break from his series of shallow thrusts to push deep into her, making her whine in wet agony. “That was the worst mistake of your life and you’re gonna make it up to me tonight.”

He pushed himself up, looking down at the crying mess he was buried inside, licking his lips.

She couldn’t stop apologising, as he fucked into her, her hands going numb under the bondage of his tie around her wrists.

“I’m sorr- sorry-” She croaked, face burning from her tears.

“Yeah? You better be.”

He gathered her ankles in his hands, holding them up, one hand coming to roll her sock down her leg.

“You’re gonna be.”

His hand caressed her small bare-foot tightly, thumb digging into her sole, his mind drifting to how cute and tiny it was, smaller than his hand, and strangely soft for someone who chooses to walk everywhere to save money.

“I’m sorry-” She blubbered. “I’m- I’m sorry...”

She struggled for breath between her apologies and cries, forgetting how to inhale as Bakugo’s cock crammed into her, stripping her lungs of their air.

He kissed the pad of her foot, before leaning down again, hands once more cupping her knees and pushing them against the mattress.

“Good.”

She quaked beneath his stare, his sharp teeth too close as she cringed at the wet creamy sloshing sound of his cock pounding into her.

She had to look away, wanting to twist to hide her face in her pillow and cry until he was done.

But he wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me when I fuck you.”

Gathering her face between his fingers, he scrunched her lips together as his own face closed in, his teeth coming to bite down on the vulnerable pout.

“You’re nothing without me, you understand that?”

One of his hands seized around her throat, adding slight pressure to accommodate his words.

“Good for nothing.” He spit. “Except for being my little slut, right?”

His claws scratched her throat, making her mewl and suck at her bitten bruised lip, tasting the metal.

“Come on, slut, I asked you a fucking question!”

Again, he angled his cock to jut into her painfully, making her gasp in strained pain at the stretch, followed by a sob.

“I’m just a slut-” She sniffled, eyes spiralling when looking into his unforgiving scarlet ones.

He smiled again, kissing her cheek.

“Who’s?”

The kiss became a lick, as he dragged his tongue up her tear-slicked cheek.

“Who’s slut?”

He felt her tremble and stiffen under his tongue, her eye’s squeezing shut.

“Your slut.” She answered, but it proved not to be good enough as another sharp painful thrust hit her core. “Bakugo’s slut.”

She knew it was wrong the second she said it as a growl rumbled against her neck, his teeth gracing, scraping against her tender flesh.

“Katsuki’s slut!”

The words all broken and wet and beautiful coming from her bloated and reddened lips.

He placed a chaste kiss to her jaw, nibbling his way up to her mouth, whispering upon them. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re nothing without me.”

He kissed roughly, growling for her to kiss back, hand still tightly locked around her neck, begging for her to refuse him only for him to squeeze the life out of her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth as he slobbered and drooled above her, mouth sucking on her lips, trailing down her jaw and down her throat, nibbling and biting and lapping at her skin like some hound drooling over steak.

His hand left her throat to grasp her clothed breasts as he hit a particular spot, calling an unintentional bucking of her hips into him, making him groan in pleasure, his own thrusts gaining speed, hitting that same spot he now knew would make her unravel.

“You’re so lucky to get my cock.”

He worked himself into a taller position again, dragging himself off her chest to admire what artwork he’d made of her collar and chest.

“Say you love it.”

She shook her head, a petty begging-look on her face.

It was a weak protest, almost enough to make him let it go, yet still outweighed by his need to make her pay.

His hips suddenly thrusting into her deeply, sharply, in all the ways he’d found out hurt.

She cried out. “No, no, Bakugo, please!” Panicked sobbing, her chest arching in pain, her legs coming to kick him off, yet were stopped as he pushed her knees into her chest. Jutting into her brutally.

“Say you love it and I’ll go slower.”

He saw her knuckles whiten at how hard she was balling her fists, tugging at her bonds desperately.

“I’ll fuck you good.” He promised, finding himself grow excited upon the thought. “Nice and slow like lovers do.” He had to snicker, even as she sobbed and hiccupped up screams that caught in her throat at his sharp thrusts, her eyes screwed tightly shut, allowing no tears to drop yet leaving them swimming in stinging salt.

His head dropped again to her temple, lips nibbling lightly on her cheek bone, his heavy breaths sounding louder than what snapping noise was made between his hips and the softness of her ass.

“Come on…” He drawled an impatient growl into her ear, a rumble that strung another whimper out from her.

More sobs followed, broken in their execution. “I love it… I love it.”

She hadn’t screamed it the way he wanted, but hearing it hang loosely onto her cries, all trembling and weak, was somehow better than what he thought he’d wanted anyway.

He slowed down, enough to lessen the sound of flesh slapping flesh and for the squishy noise of him filling her up again and again to replace it.

“What do you love?”

He made his way to rip open the seams of her shirt on her shoulder, not caring in the moment that she didn’t have a spare uniform to replace it. The shirt gone before she could even answer his question.

“You’re cock, I love you’re cock.” She sobbed, as her bra met with the same fate her shirt had, leaving her in just her little black skirt and one sock remaining, her tits springing loose, bouncing on both her cries and Bakugo’s movements.

“Fuck, good, such an obedient little pet.”

His head fell into the newly presented bare flesh with a moan, heavy panting as he slobbered up the valley between her breasts, palming the soft mounds before twisting the nipples between his fingertips, pulling at them, playing with them, his mouth sucking and biting, teasing the tender sensitivity.

His hands quitting their torment in favor of holding onto each their knee to keep her spread open for him as he rolled deeply into her spot.

“Feels so fucking-” He groaned, not bothering to finish the thought, before another impulse struck him.

His position in having his face buried in her neck and his body laid tight and snug on top of hers moved, making her feel the wisp of a chill coat her as their warm sweat-slicked bodies parted, feeling almost as though they were glued together as he pulled away, cock still being kept warm inside the comfort of her walls.

His hands came up to fickle with the knot that kept her hands locked above her head, his fingers sloppily tugging to loosen the tie, before gripping her hips tightly in a fashion meant to make sure she understood that despite being loose she was far from actually free.

Lifting her up of the spot she’d sunk into on the mattress and on to straddling his torso, his feet hitting the ground with a dunk with her propped up on his thighs, every little movement of his adjusting making his cock poke and message into other new dangerous places, places too tight to be attacked in whichever reckless unthoughtful way Bakugo saw fit.

Fingers running, or rather digging into her skin and making way to rake up her sides, grabbing and clinging to her midriff to pull her close, with his thighs beginning to impatiently move in a boyish manor to satiate the need for friction his member craved.

One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand made to grab her chin, allowing him to look over her, again tempted to bite into those lushes red lips, all bloated and made for his teeth to gnaw on. Yet, his mouth made way to her neck instead, licking up her throat, sucking on the thin skin, wanting to make his mark flourish in red explosions all over her.

“Be a good quirkless slut and bounce on my cock, make yourself useful for once.”

His knees jolted upwards making her hop, followed by his cock sinking deeper into her.

Her hands held uncertainly mid-air made to grip his shoulders at the further intrusion, biting back another cry, however unable to keep the sobbing sigh from rupturing her throat.

However, she wasn’t given long to recover as his hand came down to plant a red-hot slap on her ass, making her jump on her own.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

She started moving, unsure of what or which way to do it, finding the rhythm of rocking her hips forward after a while, earning a disgusting sigh of satisfaction from the blonde holding a bruising grip on her.

“That’s right...”

His arm moving to hold a death-grip on her waist, thumb digging into the underside of her ribs, poking each time she lolled forward and at the same time threatened her to stop.

His other hand came to grip her face again, stiff lips crashing against teary lips. Sucking her face as though stealing her life-source, only breaking between breaths to announce cocky cruel comments and instructions.

“Stay right there, slut.” A thrust from his hips accompanied the nickname, making her wince and lurch forward into him. “Aww that’s cute.”

Both his hands went under her skirt to grab at her ass, lifting her up only to sleeve himself inside her once again.

“Does that feel good? Huh? Right there?”

Another slap and she rested even harder against his chest, trying to find comfort in the pitch black her screwed-shut eyes left her in, yet the overwhelming scent of caramel wasn’t easily ignored, and neither was how perfectly his cock sunk into her.

His hands fingered the fabric of her skirt as he bumped into her from beneath. Tugging on the textile until ripping it off, the action earning her gasp as she was now wearing nothing but her one sock, the skirt having provided as some false sense of coverage.

“Is the slut enjoying herself?” He mocked, a salacious grin constantly spreading on his face between moans and grunts.

She shook her head, the urge to fight herself to freedom awakening yet again as her hands moved to push at his chest.

“No… stop.”

But her back was supported, or rather steadied, with Bakugo’s large palm, little sparking ignitions gaining control of her struggles quickly, the fight leaving her body with a whimper of defeat, just as quickly as it had arrived.

Another sharp thrust ripped a strangled moan from her and he grinned.

“Liar.” He snickered. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut 'cause that's the only thing you know how not to fuck up, only thing your whore mom ever taught you.”

Forcing her hips to roll faster, the slick coated their thighs as her tits bounced for him.

“Does she share this bed with both you and her crackhead fuck-friends?”

He couldn’t defend his need to make her cringe in his arms, why he wanted to see her ashamed, why he wanted her crying into him.

“Such a freak. Are you gonna cum on the same sheets your mom sleeps on?”

Sharp fingers dug into her cheeks again, all because he wanted to be entertained by the show of her breaking.

He pulled her hips closer, fighting to hit that spot that had her mewling earlier, wanting to hear her mewl again, wanting to prove his point.

Once he found it she fell flush against him, melting in his hands, soft-spoken moans falling like drool down her chin.

“Like that, right there?” His words fell hot on her lips as his thumb pushed into her mouth and down onto her tongue, holding her chin in place.

Her eyes crossed then upon his cock nudging in just the right way against her cervix, as well as her brows drawing up into a pretty eruption.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned, clutching tighter onto her hip, rocking her forward to meet his thrusts. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, huh?”

With his thumb still dipped into her mouth, she tried her best to retort.

“No…”

It couldn’t be referred to as defiance as it was too pitiful to be called that.

“Yes, you are.”

He sucked on her collarbone, making his way up by kissing a trail of slobbering kisses and bites to her ear.

With his hips still angled just right, his thumb left her mouth to grip her other hip.

He could feel her tight little pussy start to convulse around his shaft, small flutters that squeezed him tightly, milking him.

She hated that she wanted to spill over so badly. The surging swimming boiling buzz constantly teased by Katsuki’s plush cockhead pushing and poking and jabbing at her cervix again and again.

She felt it coming, the snapping, breaking, splitting, the building coming close to bursting, yet she was reminded of who she was with in her reach for bliss and found herself regretting chasing it.

“No, no, not with him, not with him, not-”

It was too late as she tried holding it back, tried grasping it as hard as she was clamping down on his cock, as hard as she was digging her nails into his shoulders.

The movements of his hips slowed down.

“There you go. Feel good, slut?” He mocked as her body spasmed, skin freezing over under his touch, feeling disgusted, skin-crawlingly disgusted with herself and how she was unable to control the continuous spasms that seemed to ricochet through her spontaneously. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

His speed picked up again, humping into her, making her ride through her orgasm, feeling the almost painful ticklish pressure build again upon each time he bottomed-out ruthlessly inside the comfort of her wet walls.

“No, Bakugo stop, stop!” Her pleads weren’t met.

“Is it too much?” He laughed, gathering a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck in order to make her look up at him, making her wince as he spit his words into her face. “Mommy didn't do too good a job at raising her slut, I see. Can't even handle cumming without crying." He jeered, mock pouting at her with his forehead pressed into hers, blood-soaked orbs forcing eye-contact from her wide tear-stained ones as she whimpered. "Aw, is my cock too much for the little whore?”

“Yes, stop!” She couldn't care less if she was answering some cruel nickname , the painful pressure assaulted inside her was something too vehement she needed to make relent, but yet again was her plead answered with a lack of mercy in an eerie whisper and nothing more.

“I’m not finished yet.”

All she could do was beg for him to finish… so that’s what she did.

“Please...”

He gathered her face in his hand again, fingers squishing into her cheeks hurtfully as he made to sneer into her face.

“Please what? Please fuck your whore cunt harder? Please make you cum again?”

Even as he snickered and mocked, his cock twitched at the sight of her.

Eyes all puffy and swimming in her own tears, eyebrows knitted together, begging for mercy.

Completely and literally held in the palm of his hand, yet her gaze still managing to make him feel fuzzy with the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh fuck, say you love me.”

Cold dread made up most of her body, what else was the rising crippling shameful feeling of something sweet knotting up somewhere in her lower abdomen again, this time harder than before as her already abused high was continuously pocked by Katsuki’s swollen cockhead kissing her cervix harshly again and again and again, driving her insane. And all of it made his demand impossible to answer, impossible to even comprehend.

Yet, she was in no position to refuse with her face held up between his fingertips and his crimson eyes boring holes straight into her terror-wide heart.

“Say you love me or I’ll cum inside you.” His voice lacking all she considered still human. Not a hint of remorse or guilt or shame or pity.

She gulped on her breaths, yet managed to voice the words. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Her eyes now unable to look away from him. Even as he picked up the painful pace, stabbing at her core, in places she had no former knowledge of, places the length of her fingers could never even as much as dream of reaching.

“Fuck.” A boyish virginal whimper laced the moan that escaped him at her words, satisfaction easing the raging and crazed look on his face. “I love you too.”

His toes curled painfully, cold and numb against the floorboards.

“I love you.”

Hands warm and sliding against dewy and doughy flesh.

"I love you."

Something pulling, straining, building to burst was chasing release, sending spasms to shoot through his shaft.

"I love you."

He knew what was coming. He knew it would be better than ever.

“We’ll get you a pill later, ‘kay?”

The guilt was washed over with the promise of painting her walls.

“It’s fine.” He tried reassuring as he felt her revolt in his arms, all her strength fighting to get off him, yet was no match against the force of his hands holding onto her, and his need to explode inside.

She resulted to begging instead. “No, no, Katsuki stop, don’t, please!”

Feeling her hope being crushed in his palm, picturing his laughing face as she turned her vision to black, his feral smile like supersonic light, dangerous and deadly and made to rip throats out.

And then it was done, she felt the last thrust like the last blow through her gut.

Cream filling her up, smearing between their thighs, Katsuki’s head resting on her shoulder with his hands holding onto her hips, fingers marking their presence into her back yet softening their grip with each of his panting breaths landing on her breasts.

Her blood ran cold through stiff veins, as though she were dead. Her skin crawling, as though rotting with mites.

Sickness.

Sickness in her lungs, in her throat, building, climbing up her pipes.

She slung herself off in a hurry, and with Katsuki coming down from whatever sick high he was riding, he wasn’t alert enough to catch her, which was probably a good thing because after her staggering her way to the bathroom, feeling his cum and her wetness leak out of her and drip along the inside of her thighs, she only barely made it in time to open the toilet compartment, get to her knees in the small space and haul her guts out into the small stained bowl.

Feeling like her mother, each time she came home all sweaty, mascara smeared with tears on her face like a garbage racoon, sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging until she collapsed on the floor, face laid in her own puke.

She heard Katsuki’s heavy footsteps, one and two before his hand met with her neck. Collecting her hair in a ponytail in his grip with the other hand encompassing her naked back.

She was afraid he was going to pull her up, expecting her scalp to soon scream in protest at the feel of her hairs being ripped up from their roots.

Yet, as she awaited the torture… all she felt was the slow stroking of carefully placed paths running up her spine and then down to the small of her back in a manor either meant to be comforting or patronizing, with her hair being kept away from her face as she retched on repeat.

It was mostly just water and acid, and Katsuki made a mental note to make her eat later as he helped her up with his hands under her arms, supporting her when seeing how her shivering rendered her knees too weak to stand on her own, lifting her up on a tiny counter which would have been impossible for him if he were to try and sit on it, yet seemed the perfect size for her.

The ruff base of his thumb brushed the spit from the corner of her mouth, her large eyes meeting his own as he leaned in, soft weak hands only barely pushing against his chest in an act to stop him, but his lips pushed onto her anyway.

Parting with a string of silver connecting them, and he couldn’t help but fall prey to how beautiful she was even in her broken ugliness, how prettily her eyes fluttered with sticky eyelashes clutching together as though hugging for comfort, stray wisps of hair dancing in front of her face. Her wet breaths, sobbing breaths, hiccupping breaths, trembling past those soft pillow-y and blossomed lips, plump and full and bitable, or huffed through her nose, sniveling and sniffing and so very unfairly precious.

His thumb stroked over those lips, watching them quiver.

He took time admiring her, feeling her cold fingertips vibrate against his chest, wondering if she could feel how hard his heart was hammering inside his ribcage with how much she was shaking. Wondering if she knew just how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d wanted this, how despite him ignoring her cries, that she understood how this wasn’t in vain, how he wasn’t just doing this because he could, that he was doing this because he needed to, that he wasn’t doing this because he hated her but because he loved her, loved her too much to let her simply slip from between his fingers again.

His fingers latched onto the band of her sock, pulling it down and off at her toes, finally leaving her completely bare.

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

He moved to pick her up, uncaring of her newly sparked urge to fight him.

“No, Katsuki…”

She tried pushing, she tried making him stop despite everything being slippery and sticky and gross. The want to cry herself to sleep knowing and finding some comfort in the fact that Katsuki was done with her and long gone outweighed the want to get clean.

“The water’s cold, you won’t like it.” She argued in a weak attempt to sway him from the idea, yet knowing full well that he didn’t care.

“Come on…” He drawled as he caught her bothersome fists by the wrists in his massive hands. “We’ll take a shower and then we’ll go get your pill…”

He fought to find eye-contact.

“We both know you don’t have the money for it anyway…”

Typical of him to mention her situation. Typical of him to use it against her. And though it was typical, though it was predictable, it still made her heart clench, her soul twist, her spirit crumble.

He swore he saw something start to break in her eyes, wanting to deliver the final blow to snuff out whatever fight she still had left.

He leaned in more, his nose brushing against hers.

“You need me.”

Her struggles stopped at that, Katsuki wrapping her legs around his back to support her as he carried her to the shower. Her cheek resting on his shoulder, completely deflated.

It wasn’t at all as in the movies. Sweet couples who help wash each other’s hair, warm bodies gliding against one another, soft perfect handprints printed on the dewy glass.

She hadn’t been lying, the water was freezing as the showerhead spritzed the water down on them with a force close to that of aching.

They didn’t both fit in the crammed space either, Katsuki was sure that even him alone wouldn’t fit in the tight space, where he was left to have one foot on the floorboards outside the door, water rushing into the hallway, running down his leg, but he didn't care.

His frame blocked the door completely, allowing her no shape or form of exit as he made her stand there, under the showerhead, hair slicking to her neck and nipples perking into hardness under the freeze, goosebumps strutted and coated her flesh from head to toe, her cheeks and lips blossomed with a purple hue, her eyes closed, head dipped in discomfort or shame or embarrassment or sorrow or a bit of everything and even more.

Her body trembled beneath his warm hands, as they cupped her breasts, palming them and playing and pinching with her back hunching in a weak effort to get her discomfort across, despite knowing how he didn’t care, with the fact having been proven time and time again.

His warm calloused fingertips brushed down her abdomen, eyes stark and loud as they looked at her body, thinking of how unblemished and beautiful her skin was as opposed to him, no roughness or ugly greenish bruises, just milky smooth and rosy suppleness and all his.

His hand traveled further, causing her small ones to reach out and grip around his wrist, both hands giving their best effort at trying to stop him. Though his other hand was quick to wrap around her throat and extract a sweet gasp with the movement.

Her hands removed their pressure yet remained on him as he brushed featherlight touches over the sensitiveness of her sex, fingertips dipping into her folds, slithering in the slick velvet of his cum mixed with her wetness.

A sob ricocheted through her as her toes curled, fingers bending and nailing into his wrist. Still, he continued. Fingers pushing inside, pumped knuckle-deep inside the puffy spongey walls, reaching deep before scissoring, making her knees bend, yet kept from falling by the hand around her neck keeping her up like a noose as he curled the two digits.

Her eyes avoided his, looking down at his limp cock who somehow seemed just as intimidating as before, like a sleeping beast ready to wake at any second.

Yet, as much as he played with her sex, his own remained still.

He picked her up again as he saw more of her skin going purple, not really wanting her to get sick, just refreshed.

Water flooded on the soft-with-mould floorboards in the tight hallway as her feet dragged against the walls when he yet again carried her to the bed. And as much as she wanted to fight as he placed her dripping body down onto the sheets, she couldn’t find the energy. Tears, however, still managed to drip down her face, unhurriedly gliding down her cheeks, warm in stark contrast amidst the freezing shower-water.

“Do you wanna hear something really fucked up?”

It was rhetorical, but he wouldn’t have gotten an answer either way.

“I used to be jealous of your crack-whore mother…”

Her face cringed, confused yet still not desiring to know what he meant.

“Fuck, I’m still jealous when you come to school and I see that there's somebody else who makes you cry harder than me.”

She had to swallow in order not to gulp.

“You’re sick.”

Those were the wrong words, for as quickly as they entered the air, he was once again on top of her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs.

“I’m sick?” He questioned, fingers plunging inside her, a forced moan ripped from her throat. “You’re the one cumming and creaming and squirting all over my cock while crying.” He bit out while starting to pump into her cruelly, finding it easier now as she was already wet from before. “Telling me you love it, telling me you love me.” He laughed as he sneered. “Who would’ve known what a slut you are. So desperate you let your own bully fuck you like this. You fucking whore.”

His pushed his thumb into her clit cruelly, a sadistic smile on his face as she struggled.

“Stop, shut up, shut up!” Her palms made to push at his hard chest, yet was weakened as she felt the burning sweetness start to pool were his fingers poked.

“You don’t like that nickname? No? Aww, that’s fine.” He hissed, then scoffed. “It’s not true anyway...” He muttered beneath his breath, trying to find what sweet spot his fingers could reach as so to have her unravel beneath him again, wanting to lick the sin from her expression, wanting to bathe in his victory of making her his. “How did it feel to have my cock balls deep inside your precious little virgin innocent cunt, huh? Better yet, how does it feel to know how I am your first? First to kiss you, first to fuck you, first to make you cum.”

“Fuck you.”

Any remnants of strength was now spent on those last words, as the rest was spared to support her oncoming orgasm, the one she could feel clawing, sucking all senses up as though preparing for an implosion.

“That’s right…” He whispered. “Fuck me. Your first and your last.”

His ominous tone had her guts churning, which in some sick sense only added to the pooling dam that was about to snap inside her, but she kept her eyes wide, further digging into what his words meant, wondering if this would be her last day on earth, wondering if Bakugo would be the last person she'd ever see, ever feel, ever touch.

“You look like I’m gonna kill you.” He observed as he curled his fingers once again, making her hips buckle into his hand, which in turn made him grin. “Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

His head dipped so that he could nibble at her neck, lick up the tender flesh with his fingers pumping in and out of her, coated in slick, collecting and drenching in his palm.

“I’m just gonna make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again…”

She couldn’t explain why the growl in his voice had her abdomen doing flips.

“Including that fuckface slut you call a mother.”

His fingers scissored, her back arching as she moaned.

“You’ll be lucky I even let you graduate.”

She couldn’t quite catch what he was saying anymore, just the lilt in his tone which had her falling apart beneath him, the walls of her pussy fluttering in pleasure.

“People go missing all the time.”

Her toes curled and she braced herself.

“That way I can have you all for myself.”

His warm lips pressed against her neck, his growls reverberating on her skin.

“All mine.”

His fingers poked at something that was about to burst and as she wanted to climb further up on the bed to escape it, she also wanted him to follow.

“Where you belong.”

And there it was, body melting into the mattress, all shame obsolete in those seconds.

Unable to see him lick her orgasm off his fingers as her eyes had crossed and traveled way too far into the back of her skull.

Unable to prepare for his kiss as her mouth hung open, soft feeble moans cut loose into the air, captured by Bakugo’s mouth.

She didn’t catch the second he stopped kissing her, nor did she catch the moment he got off the bed.

She must have fallen asleep for a short while because when she opened her eyes again Bakugo was dressed, rummaging through cabinets containing worn out clothes and things like it, seeming displeased with most of what he found.

She looked to her side, where placed on the bed was a towel, fresh underwear and a bra.

She motioned for the towel first, feeling the shameful wet stickiness between her thighs, hurriedly wiping it clean before putting on her garments, looking up to see Bakugo staring at her, having found something suitable to dress her in.

“Put this on.”

She didn’t bother looking at what he’d so graciously offered her of her own clothes.

Her eyes narrowed at him instead.

“I don’t want your help.” She sneered, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest as so to hide herself from his piercing gaze.

His fingertips were quick in clutching her cheeks, raking them into her skin as he turned her head back to look at him.

“Too bad, you need it.”

The fabric was cast at her lap unceremoniously, the soft silky feel cold against her bare thighs.

“Put it on.” The growl was followed by him removing his hand with a push.

She huffed before looking down at the presented article, wondering what Bakugo wanted to dress her up in, her lips forming a disgusted snarl.

“It’s my mother’s.”

The yellow summer-dress, flowy and frilly in texture, something she’d never wear, something Bakugo knew well she would never wear.

“It’d go to waste on her.”

This made her look up, curiosity or maybe even a form of flattery evident in the curl between her brows.

The sudden eye-contact catching Bakugo off guard as he’d shared the uncharacteristically tender opinion of the girl out loud.

He scoffed, crimson eyes darkening in an attempt to hide the building flustered panic, masking it with a growl instead.

“Put it on, I won’t ask again.”

She fingered the fabric for a while longer before treading it on over her head, letting the skirt dress her thighs with a featherlight fall.

Looking like a spring-daydream, not at all as though she’d just lived through a nightmare.

With her drying hair falling in messy curled tousles down her shoulders, Bakugo reached out a hand to fasten the small wispy strands coming to tickle her forehead behind her ear, grabbing her wrists in favor of her hand when he pulled her up.

“Let’s go. I can’t stand this shithole.”

Wondering if he should have said that he couldn’t stand her in that shithole instead.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

3K notes · View notes

missing-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

The Shape of You (Pt. 4)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 3, Part 5

Words: 5698

A/N: *shows up several months late with coffee and a new chapter* What’s up y’all, who’s ready for more metal husband?

You awoke feeling sluggish and hazy, practically choking on dust and resisting the need to sneeze. The feeling quickly shifted to panic as you opened your eyes to even more darkness which only worsened when you tried to move, something blocking the space in front of you as well as tangling around your legs. It wasn’t until you rolled to the floor with a loud ‘thud’ that you remembered falling asleep on the sofa. You didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, however, which had gotten wrapped around your legs in your sleep.

You recognized Vision’s silhouette as he appeared hurriedly from the other room. You couldn’t see much in the dim light, but you could recognize him by his eyes alone. They glowed softly in the dark, that electric-blue bringing some familiarity to your surroundings.

The lights came on and you were momentarily blinded, shielding your eyes with your hand as they adjusted. “Sorry,” you said, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. “I just fell off the sofa. I’m okay.” You took a good look around the room for the first time since arriving, still not bothering to get up off the floor. It looked like a fairly basic living space. There was a patterned rug, a coffee table, some shelves with a few random knick-knacks, the usual. You did notice the lack of a TV, however. You supposed it wasn’t worth investing in one if no one would be living here ninety-nine percent of the time.

Still a bit groggy, you almost didn’t see Vision walk over to you and extend a hand to help you up. To be completely honest, you were perfectly comfortable on the floor but you weren’t going to turn him away. You uttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you got to your feet.

You had absolutely no idea what time it was but it was definitely dark out. Not a speck of light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Whether it was evening or early morning, however, you hadn’t a clue. “What time is it?”

Vision pointed to a digital clock sitting on a bookshelf close by. It read 6:30.

“I only slept for a few hours?” Well, more like several hours, by your estimate. It was broad daylight when you’d arrived. Still, that was surprising given that you’d basically passed out as soon as you got indoors and hadn’t slept in like two days.

Vision shook his head, however, cutting off your train of thought. He held up one finger on his right hand and put it down before holding up nine in total. It took you a second to understand what he meant, thinking he was saying ten before realizing.

“Are you saying I slept nineteen hours?” Vision just nodded and you let out a sigh. That explained why you felt so stiff. That much time on a sofa, even a surprisingly comfortable one, would take its toll. One other thing struck you, however. “Wait a minute, so it’s six in the morning, then? It’s awfully dark out.” You chanced a peek out the window to actually confirm that it was, in fact, dark outside.

You turned back when you heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. It looked like Vision had found a new notepad somewhere. By the time you walked over, he had finished writing. “Clock is an hour ahead. Haven’t fixed it. Only got power back on a couple hours ago.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” This time of year, it was perfectly normal to be dark at 5:30. However, it was also cold outside and you were beginning to notice that in here as well. You picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around yourself. “Is there heat at all?”

Vision wrote his response as quick as possible, handwriting still impeccable as always. “It’s on but not very strong. Building isn’t in best condition anymore. There’s fuses missing so I prioritized some things. A few lights aren’t going to work.” He stepped aside and gestured somewhere down the small hallway behind him. On the wall was an open panel.

“Wait this place still has a fuse box? The Avengers couldn’t afford someplace with circuit breakers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your own joke, if you could really call it that. You were just happy your custodial knowledge was relevant for once.

“Old SHIELD building,” Vision quickly noted. If this place had been built by the Avengers, it would be far more modern, probably to an unnecessary extent. Tony Stark would only stand for the best, even if it was a safe house that would almost never get used.

“Shield? Are they still around?” You only sort of understood what SHIELD was. No more than any other member of the general public. They were a kind-of, sort-of government agency or something like that. They always kept their stuff super secret so most people never really knew what they did. Then there was the whole deal with Hydra which nobody understood. You decided a long time ago it wasn’t worth worrying about, much like most of the American populace. Perhaps you should have paid closer attention.

Vision simply tilted his hand side-to-side in a gesture that implied that the answer was complicated and really not worth getting into. He shifted the conversation to you instead. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that. You weren’t doing so well yesterday.” You tried not to let the worry in your voice show, though you weren’t sure what good it would do.

You thought you saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he turned back to his paper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Vision...” You recalled back to the other night, when you’d told him nearly the same thing after a couple solid days of no sleep. Before you could retort, however, he’d turned and headed toward the other room, gesturing for you to follow.

The small office space was an absolute mess. The only reason you called it an office was the papers and folders scattered around the room as well as the computer tucked away on a desk in the corner. Underneath a blanket of dust, it looked almost exactly like the first computer you’d ever owned. Actually, it might just be the first computer. You were pretty sure it should be in a museum.

Vision navigated the difficult terrain with ease as he made his way to the desk. You, on the other hand, felt like you were doing a balancing act as you tried to limit your steps to the few parts of the floor that were visible. You didn’t know what all these stacks of papers and folders were exactly, but you figured it was best not to mess with them.

“There’s no way that thing works,” you said once you’d cleared a spot to stand by the desk, your own little island of shag carpeting amongst the sea of paper.

Vision pried open a panel on the side of the computer, carefully removing a CPU board with all the expertise of a seasoned technician. The actual monitor was half buried in a pile of miscellaneous cords and plugs next to the desk. After a brief moment of inspection, wherein he must’ve decided all appeared fine, he went ahead and booted the thing up.

It chugged to life like a patient coming out of surgery, slowly and with great difficulty. It made sounds you were pretty sure should only be coming from a lawn mower but all the lights eventually blinked on in time. As it did so, you braved the sneeze-inducing dust pile for the monitor, the air turning cloudy as you shifted all the junk that had been untouched for years. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?” You hoisted the dinosaur of a monitor up onto the desk, Vision taking it gratefully and nodding a thanks your way.

For a minute after he plugged it in, it seemed the screen wasn’t going to work. Only after staring at it did you realize it was working, albeit extremely slowly. A symbol was appearing on the screen, the shape becoming more discernible the longer the machine whirred. As far you could tell, it looked like some kind of government emblem, like an eagle with a crest in the center. It wasn’t until it had spent a solid minute loading that you were able to read the text surrounding it. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement... Logistics Division? What on Earth does— wait, that’s what SHIELD stands for?”

Vision nodded in a way that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the acronym either. You were beginning to think he wasn’t so difficult to read after all, not like you thought when you’d first met, at least. It just took time, much like reading the decades-old monitor had.

“I think someone just really wanted the initials to spell out shield.” You gave a breathy laugh, more air than sound. “What’re you going to do with this old thing? Can it even get internet?”

Vision shook his head and reached for his paper from the edge of the desk. “Not that kind of computer,” he wrote. You resisted butting in as he tore off a new sheet, still not used to the pauses in conversation that resulted from the rather roundabout method of communication. “It’s wired directly into an old SHIELD system and by extension, hopefully, the Avengers emergency system.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed this place predated the Avengers.” As you spoke, Vision got the keyboard hooked up which had been stuffed into one of the desk drawers. It was missing at least a quarter of its key caps, the really chunky, old kind that made a satisfying click-clack when pressed. Apparently they’d prioritized actual computer hardware over keyboards considering there were offices at your job that still had keyboards just like it. Correction: your old job. You’d almost forgotten.

“SHIELD software was integrated with Stark tech after the Battle of New York. In theory, we should be able to put out an emergency signal on a secure Avengers server from here.” You almost hadn’t noticed Vision writing again as you zoned out a bit.

You would’ve been more excited over good news, but you’d learned over the years what happened when you got your hopes up. “So when you say in theory, I’m guessing the odds aren’t exactly...” You trailed off, unable to continue without sounding horribly pessimistic.

“It will work,” was all he wrote, a noticeable firmness in his grip as he held the pen. You didn’t say anything else but moved closer to the desk, directly by his side now. There was what could only be described as a hint of doubt in his expression before he turned back to the monitor as green text cluttered the screen.

“We can only hope so.” You let your hand brush his shoulder as you navigated back towards the door, no longer particularly caring to avoid crumpling the paper on the floor.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Vision to finish what he was doing, especially with the tech he was stuck with. You found it more than a bit ironic that possibly the most advanced machine on the planet had to use a decades-old computer to call for help. It felt weird to think of him as a machine. After what you’d been through in the past 24 hours alone, you’d begun to think of him as just another person. Well, not just another person, that wasn’t what you meant. How to put it...? You just couldn’t explain it. There was no precedent in your mind for a situation like this. Vision was a living being. As alive as anyone, maybe more so. That much you could say confidently.

Trying not to get too lost in your thoughts, you busied yourself investigating the rest of the apartment, not that there was much to find. Living room, connected kitchen, hallway with the office and stairs that led up to a bedroom and bathroom. All pretty standard. All of it looked fresh out of the 80’s. Well, maybe not fresh.

Just as you completed your lap of the place, you were interrupted by a low grumble from none other than your own stomach. That was a problem. There was definitely not food here. You had no other choice really than to shove the feeling to the back of your mind for now. You got yourself a glass of water to make do. At least the plumbing worked.

By the time Vision came back, it had been less than twenty minutes. “That was quick. Any success?” You sipped your water, ignoring the slight metallic tang it had.

Vision wrote as he crossed the room to stand opposite you from the island counter. “The beacon is active. Now someone just needs to hear it.”

Despite his lack of vocals, you sensed a definite lack of confidence in his words. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You hoped not too long. You were concerned about your food situation.

He didn’t bother writing a response. The expression on his face made it clear; he had no idea. Maybe never, if no one was out there to hear it. You only hummed a response, neither confirming nor retorting. The sound of you sipping your water seemed immensely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

“Well, what do we do now?” You were becoming anxious again. You didn’t like being forced to sit and wait. At any minute, you felt like law enforcement would start breaking the door down.

“We wait. There’s nothing else we can do.” He seemed apologetic. He wished he could give you a more concrete answer, some sort of assurance that this would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not truthfully, anyway.

It looked like you had some time to kill. You weren’t sure what all there really was to do. Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least you had company. “I wonder if there’s a better way we can communicate,” you mused, turning your mind to less dire matters.

Vision seemed to brighten up a bit as he was struck by an idea. “You don’t happen to know any ASL, do you?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. I assume you do?”

He responded by holding up his right hand in a closed fist and sort of nodded it up and down.

“I’m guessing that means... yes?” It wasn’t a far stretch. You’d actually thought about learning ASL before but never gotten around to it. There were more uses for it than people realized. Too bad work left you too busy and tired to make the time for lessons. Well now you had nothing but time.

Vision just nodded his head in the more familiar interpretation of the word. He grabbed the pen and paper again off the counter. “I could teach you some. At least the important parts, if you want.” He hesitated a split second between sentences, just a bit nervous, though the pause was nowhere near long enough for you to notice. It was barely a stutter in his programming, a single digit skipped somewhere in his code. Nothing to be concerned with.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe just slightly too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’d be great! I— I mean, it would be useful, you know? Way more efficient than pen and paper. Uhm...” You were struggling to ask how he wanted to start when your stomach growled, providing a convenient segue into another topic. “Heh, sorry. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You tried to pass it off as no big deal, although you really were starving. You hadn’t eaten anything since before setting Vision free. It had been well over a full day since then.

He looked surprised for a moment, which he was, before he began writing. For a genius super-computer, he could sometimes be very forgetful of the needs of his human cohorts. They were very fragile things, humans. The need for sleep and food was something Vision never had to worry about, something he realized he took for granted. Something akin to guilt began to gnaw at him when he too realized how long it had been since the escape. He should’ve brought up the matter earlier. “We need to get you food,” he wrote very matter-of-factly. It wasn’t something up for debate.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of cash on me, Vis.” You flinched at the nickname, quick to move on before he could call you out on it. It had been merely a slip of the tongue, just shortening his name for the sake of convenience. It could have been a gesture of friendship towards the android, though you weren’t sure you’d quite earned the right to call Vision a friend, even if you were fond of him. “I’ve got like 10 bucks, tops.” You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pockets to emphasize your point. You obviously couldn’t use your credit card, either. You’d seen enough movies to know that.

Vision thought a moment before coming up with an idea. “It’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I could get cash out of an ATM. It’s technically a matter of survival, after all.” He demonstrated exactly what he meant by phasing his hand through the paper as you read, something that could just as easily be done to a cash machine.

It wasn’t so much the legality of the idea that bothered you. After all, you’d stolen multiple cars. It was the matter of Vision’s safety. Not that he couldn’t protect himself but he would be spotted quite easily if he went outside. That was just a matter of fact. And if someone called the police on a strange magenta man or anything along the lines of ‘robot,’ you could pretty much guarantee trouble. “I don’t know... What if someone sees you? The last thing we want is to compromise the safe house. I can just wait awhile longer, I’ll be fine.”

Your stomach chose that moment to grumble again, completely undermining your point. Vision shot you a look that more than sufficed to communicate what he was thinking but he wrote it down anyway. “It would seem we don’t have much of a choice.”

You sighed, all but forced to agree. Although, it would be nice to get some actual food before your stomach started eating itself. “Fine,” you relented. “But we wait until it gets dark out. It’s safer that way.”

Vision wasn’t about to argue.

Memorization wasn’t really your strong suit, but you seemed to do surprisingly well with the start of your sign language lessons. It helped that your teacher was so patient.

Vision thought it would be best to start with a few simple phrases for the sake of saving paper. Common things such as ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ You had the benefit of only really needing to recognize them as opposed to being able to do the signs yourself, since Vision could obviously hear you, but you took it upon yourself to mimic the gestures anyway.

It had been a few hours and your head was starting to ache but you insisted on continuing. You were certain you were doing well and you wanted Vision to be impressed. Not only could you remember how to spell your own name, you could spell his as well. The rest of the alphabet may not have stuck as much but oh well. For now, words and phrases were more important.

“That’s... someone?” You guessed as Vision held up his index finger and waved it in a sort of circle. He’d been quizzing you for a few minutes now, to which you’d done pretty well. He shook his head this time, however, and tried not to look amused by the almost comically offended look on your face. “What? Yes it is! I’m certain that means ‘someone!’” You were insistent on the fact. Vision hadn’t tried to trip you up yet but he must be this time. You tried to mimic the motion, repeating the word as if that would change anything.

He shook his head again, not bothering to hide his smile this time. He reached for your hand, raising it higher to show you that there was, in fact, a slight difference between what he was signing and what you were. For a moment, you looked almost startled, like a deer in headlights. He didn’t miss the hint of color that tinged your cheeks. His assumption was merely that you were embarrassed by your mistake, though it was an easy one to make. He switched back to paper in order to explain. “This,” he repeated his first gesture. “means ‘always’. What you signed was ‘someone.’ See the difference?”

You nodded in understanding although your attention was beginning to drift. You felt like you were cramming for an exam in a class you hadn’t been attending. You may or may not have actually had to do that before. The point was, you’d learned just about all you were going to for the day. And just in time, it seemed, as you glanced toward the curtains, no longer backlit by the afternoon sun. You’d managed to kill most of the day, between checking that the computer was still working and just generally talking with Vision. There wasn’t much else to do, not that you were complaining. You were quite enjoying the android’s company and not just because you were stuck with him. And to top it off, you’d managed to distract yourself from how hungry you were. Until now, that is.

“How about we call it a day on the lessons, hm? I’d say now’s about the best time to head outside. There’s just one thing we have to do first.” You turned and exited the room without explanation, only saying you’d be right back. You ran upstairs to the bedroom, hoping you could find what you needed. You hadn’t voiced your plan to Vision, although you saw no reason for him not to go along with it. It was a smart idea if you said so yourself. At least that’s what you told yourself as you began rifling through drawers.

Vision wasn’t sure what to think at first when you came bumbling down the stairs again with a messily folded bundle in your hands. But your intention became clear quite quickly once you’d returned, immediately holding out the clothes to him before bothering to explain.

“I hope this isn’t rude but you kind of… stand out. I just thought, maybe it’d be a good idea to disguise yourself. Just for safety. Is that okay?” You hoped there was no offense taken by the gesture. In truth, you were glad Vision was going with you and not just because of the money thing. You didn’t feel particularly safe walking the streets alone at night, especially when you didn’t know the area. But having Vision by your side made you feel nigh invincible. There was just the small issue of technically being wanted criminals.

He smiled, more to himself than anything. It was just strange, he thought, how concerned you were with his opinion. Of course he wasn’t offended. It was a smart idea. He chuckled a bit, although it was a strange action given his physical state. The motion of a laugh was there, his shoulders shuddering as any human’s would despite his lack of need to actually breathe, but there was no sound. It was one of those mannerisms that was ingrained in his programming, though he wasn’t sure quite where it came from. Not from Jarvis, certainly, since the AI had no physical form, and Ultron likely hadn’t been terribly focused on such gestures at the time of his creation. In reality, it was simply something he’d picked up on his own, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

You let out a breathy chuckle of your own as he took the clothes, glad to see he agreed with you wholeheartedly. He got dressed quickly, leaving only his face visible when he was done. Luckily, it was cold enough outside for him to get away with wearing gloves, a scarf and a hat. The clothes were a bit old-fashioned but in a professional way. The long wool coat and slacks in particular gave the impression of a scholarly type, perhaps even a professor. You couldn’t help but think it was a good look for him.

“Well don’t you look just dashing,” you teased. You’d found a coat for yourself as well, deciding your own jacket wasn’t going to be enough. You silently thanked whatever SHIELD employee set this place up for supplying a myriad of spare clothes. “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to the coat rack by the door, grabbing a scarf that had been left hanging there. “Just in case.”

You hesitated at the front door. Despite the fact that you were merely going to look for a convenience store or something similar, your anxiety spiked as though it were a dangerous mission. You could just imagine all the ways you could get caught. It was almost enough to make you stay here, slowly starving to death waiting for something to happen. Vision noticed your apprehension, however, and did the first thing that came to mind to soothe your worries. He gave you a warm smile, holding out a bent arm for you to take. He thought you might find the somewhat old-fashioned gesture funny and he was right. You laughed, taking his arm anyway. It was a nice reminder that the odds of anything bad happening were tremendously low, which you mentally repeated to yourself as you stepped outside.

Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was a small grocery store a few blocks down which you’d run into just before closing time so the store was nearly empty. Vision had waited outside near the ATM, which had provided the funds you needed. Other than the bored clerk at the store, you hadn’t seen so much as a single soul this whole trip. By the time you and Vision were walking back, burdened by just a few days worth of groceries (which would ideally be more than enough), your previous worries had all but melted away.

You only wished the weather matched the feeling. Nothing was melting in this cold. In fact, a few snowflakes had begun to fall. They were almost mesmerizing under the blueish haze of the streetlights, whipped into a frenzy by the faintest of gusts. The sight wasn’t enough of a distraction, however. You couldn’t help it when a shiver wracked your body, your coat not doing nearly enough to prevent it. Vision noticed this, however, and stopped you both in your tracks.

He was quick to reach for the paper and pen in his coat pocket, a look on his face of more concern than you thought necessary. It was only a little chill. “Are you cold?” The question wasn’t particularly necessary, the answer being obvious. Still, it was polite to ask.

You tried to shrug it off, noticeably tensing to suppress a second shiver. “I’m fine. Let’s just hurry back.” You turned to keep walking, knowing there was still a decent walk ahead but he stopped you, putting a hand on your arm for the briefest of seconds. He just looked at you a moment, seeming to forget about his paper. You caught the faintest hint of conflict in his expression, though you didn’t know why. “What is it, Vision?”

Realizing he’d made you worry, Vision seemed to snap back to his senses. He gave you a reassuring smile and reached for his scarf, undoing it quickly. You were facing him, standing close enough to see the circuitry in his eyes. He paused again, however, debating his next action. For a being that didn’t have nerves, he sure felt nervous and didn’t fully understand why. He moved at a pace far slower than he was used to, hesitantly wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. His touch was light as a feather as if he were afraid to touch you. You could do nothing but watch him, lost in the details of his eyes and face as your grip on the grocery bags began to loosen involuntarily. There was a moment where neither of you moved, his hands still lingering on the loose fabric of the scarf.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, mind racing to find a logical conclusion that didn’t concern such things as the vague and confusing emotions that spiked in your chest just then. It was cold, so Vision gave you his scarf. Your hands were full, so he put it on for you. But what you couldn’t answer was why he lingered the way that he did and more importantly, why your chest began to feel tight in a way that wasn’t as unpleasant as you’d think. The most sensible reason you could think of was that he was simply a gentleman, and perhaps a little unfamiliar with personal boundaries. That was the only possibility you had the strength to consider. Anything else would open doors you were afraid to even imagine.

Footsteps scraping heavily against the pavement cut the tender, if rather nerve-filled moment short. You turned toward the sound, though Vision remained facing slightly away, bowing his head somewhat in an attempt to conceal himself. You froze when a figure emerged from the alleyway; a heavy-set man whose posture listed to one side, most likely from some kind of injury. His clothes were noticeably old and ragged, most definitely not warm enough for this weather. You would’ve asked him if he needed help were it not for the knife he brandished at you.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice wavering. Funny, you were just about to say the same thing. Clearly, he wouldn’t be doing this unless he was desperate and in a bad situation. Unfortunately, you weren’t much better off. “I saw you, I know you have cash. Just hand it over and no one gets hurts.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve complied but you’d used up pretty much all the cash you got and you couldn’t risk giving him your wallet. If your ID found its way into police hands there’d be government agents swarming this place before you ever got the chance to bail. “We don’t have any money left, I swear. Please, just walk away.” You moved slowly, setting the grocery bags on the ground and raising your hands in surrender without making any sudden movements that could set him off. You weren’t as afraid as you probably should’ve been, choosing to try and reason with the man rather than flee, which would probably be the smarter option.

The man stepped closer to you, his grip on the knife visibly tightening. He was nearly within arm’s reach now which wasn’t ideal but you held your ground. Vision caught the man’s movement out of the corner of his eye, his hand reflexively grabbing at your arm protectively. The man furrowed his brow, glancing between the two of you in confusion. At this distance, even without Vision facing him, he could almost definitely tell something was strange here. Having given you his scarf, the only things covering Vision’s face were a hat and upturned coat collar. You spoke up again, drawing the man’s attention before he could get too close of a look. “This doesn’t have to get messy. Please… ”

You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stood there, time frozen around you. The only things that moved were the snowflakes that had grown more frequent in the past couple minutes. The man finally shifted, albeit barely, one foot scraping harshly against the concrete as he braced himself. He glanced between you and Vision again, jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t walking away empty-handed. I can’t. Just gimme your damn wallet.”

Vision tugged gently on your arm. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, either trying to pull you closer to him or signal that you should run. You didn’t think running was a good idea. You feared Vision’s injuries acting up again and you didn’t want to test your own speed either. You turned back to the man, desperately pleading at this point. “I can’t …”

“Then I’ll just have to take it from you.” He didn’t give you another chance to argue, immediately lunging at you haphazardly. He couldn’t even get close to hitting you, however, as Vision’s reflexes were far superior to the man’s. The android grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully to the side and forcing him to drop the knife. The man yelped and threw a punch at Vision, who dodged it easily. The man didn’t seem to understand just how drastically outmatched he was, not even now that he had a clear view of Vision’s face. Whatever was going through his head, he still seemed to think fighting was his best option. He took another swing at Vision who, up until this point, had no intention of fighting back. But he was left with few other options. He pushed back against his attacker, sending the man sprawling to the ground with a painful ‘smack’ as he hit the pavement. There was genuine fear in his eyes when he looked back up at the two of you.

“Vis, we gotta go.” It was you holding his arm now, pleading with him to leave. He nodded quickly, completely in agreement. The two of you paused only long enough to scoop up the dropped grocery bags before making your escape. The man didn’t dare follow you as you disappeared down a side street, desperate to avoid any more prying eyes. This was the exact sort of thing you’d been afraid of when you’d left the safe house. You could only hope the man kept his mouth shut about what he’d witnessed tonight but it seemed luck may not be on your side.

A/N: I want to mention that I don’t personally know much ASL and had to rely on videos, etc. so if anything at all is wrong, I apologize. Feel free to call me out.

#vision/reader #vision x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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lotrmeditation · 3 years ago

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Introduction to meditation

Hello! This blog is dedicated to processing trauma and overcoming illness using a rather strange method. Though this method has been encouraged and enthusiastically accepted by a licensed trauma therapist I AM NOT A DOCTOR.

If you choose to try this style of meditation and it helps you then great! I hope my discovery can help others process hard emotions the way it has for me.

The Process

I believe this can be done with any media where you have a strong attachment to the characters. What is important is that if they were to tell you something you would take it seriously. I have chosen Lord of the Rings because it is very close to my heart.

Here are the steps I use to access my subconscious using meditation

1. Find your meditation video/playlist

I am lucky enough to have found guided meditation themed to LOTR, look up specifically “guided meditation” and pick try some out (youtube is a good resource). Meditation takes practice and I know that I can’t always get comfortable enough to do it.

You will want two kinds of meditation videos, one that is guided, and another that is just ambient noise that you associate with your chosen media. you can have as few or many of these as you want.

Here’s my playlist

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCu76rWGHE_xN-XAP6gz4-FIzkWUWJtEa

2. Start slow and build upwards

Try finding a time to meditate at least once a day and stick to it. Before bed is the best time in my opinion but whatever works. You have your playlist, now to learn to use it effectively!

Always start with guided meditation, then once you feel you have become immersed in the world move to ambient noise.

It is absolutely NECESSARY to remember that it may feel very silly at first but you must try to treat the characters (your subconscious) as seriously as you can. According to my therapist your brain cannot distinguish between real conversation between you and another person and you and it. that is what we’re looking for.

3. Find a neutral zone

Your ambient noise track should trigger your neutral zone. A neutral zone is a meeting place where you feel comfortable and safe. Here is where you will put your cast of characters, it is a meeting place for relaxation or discussion. Not all meditation leads to profound discovery and it doesn’t need to.

Characters may change with need to accommodate your mental state. After some time of genuine conversation you will begin to realize what each character represents, this makes it easier to pull up certain subconscious thoughts later because you know who to talk to.

For example:

Bilbo’s study is my neutral zone where I imagine myself and the fellowship (sometimes other characters) sitting near the fire and talking. I have taken note that each characters seem to talk on specific topics. You might want to make a list of what you think each character represents for you. Here’s mine.

Gandalf: Words of comfort I want to hear

Aragorn: General advice

Bilbo: Discussion of topics that I find interesting

Legolas: Suicidal or existential thoughts

Boromir/Farimir: Family issues

Merry/Pippin: Physical comfort (usually in the form of sleeping in a pile of hobbits)

Frodo: Loneliness and trauma

Sam: Relationship issues

Pretty predictable right? It’s actually cool how your subconscious will split itself to accommodate feelings. Your subconscious may even pull up memories you feel you have forgotten or make connections you would not have consciously.

Limitations

You can’t necessarily always go into a meditation with a specific goal or topic in mind and get results. Results are also easier the stronger you treat the characters like individuals. For me the fellowship aren’t characters, they’re my friends and I trust their judgment.

It is very important to take to heart the things you’ve learned and implement them as well as perform self care after difficult discussion.

Discussing trauma and working through it can give you nightmares, be prepared with comfort characters (like Merry and Pippin),real friends, your therapist or online support helplines. Again I’m not a doctor just someone who has found a way that works for me to work through trauma. Treat yourself gently.

4. Keep a journal

An annoying but necessary step of the process is to keep records of your conversation for future reference. This helps reinforce the reality within meditation and remind you to put suggestions into practice.

Happy Meditating!

#LOTR #lord of the rings #trauma #meditation #guided meditation #trauma therapy #therapy #mental illness

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hajimewhore · 4 years ago

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Amusement Park Date🎢 (Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader) ➸sfw, gn!Reader, 1.3k+ words ➷fluff, established relationship, lil kisses, really just a cute drabble that got too long, introspection into your relationship with Ushiwaka ➷Ushiwaka mini playlist: Airplane Mode♫ Daft Pretty Boys♫ Rings♫ I LOVE YOU 3000 II♫

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh with the back of a hand when your eyes catch the display screen showcasing images of the park’s guests. Some coasters have a hidden camera installed to catch you when you least expect it, at the steepest drop during the ride, the collection of photographs are then displayed at the rollercoaster’s exit for purchase (or in your case, a quick snap of your phone’s camera).

The slideshow took it’s sweet time to shuffle through the images, but once it landed on your coaster’s photo, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up.

Ushijima is stone faced in the image, a severe juxtaposition to your animated features. Upon any normal person’s inspection, they’d see the image at face value, thinking ‘that man must be seriously unbothered!’

Though after dating Ushijima for a few years, you’ve learned to pick up on the most minute details.

He’s got a death grip on the rails, hands tightened around the seat bars as if the 190 pound guy could fly out the top. His perfectly cut jaw is tightened, teeth probably gnashing as he bites back a scream. His eyebrows are raised ever so slightly, similar to his widened eyes. All nearly imperceptible signs that show just how wildly uncomfortable Ushijima felt during the ride, and you’re changing your lockscreen to it.

It seems he isn’t familiar with the jarring spins, jerks, and dips that amusement park rides entail—you start to recall he may have mentioned he’d never been on one before, and that he was looking forward to experiencing new things on your date.

A sentiment he is surely taking back at the moment, though it does please you with a chest-encompassing warmth that he still followed along, toughing out the rollercoasters on your checklist.

You’re surprised he lasted through all the rides you completed without making his discomfort apparent, the sun’s already started setting and you’ve explored a majority of the park. You mentally scold and punch yourself for failing to recognize Ushijima’s unease sooner, you probably should’ve stopped at the fourth or fifth ride.

When you notice his brows are furrowed tighter than usual, a pang of sympathy envelops you. Before you can ask if he wants to grab water, or rest somewhere, his deep voice fills your ears,

“Can we...” Ushijima pauses, deliberating for a second, “Grab something to eat?” he blinks, expression neutral as ever.

You sense he’s actually asking for a break from the rollercoasters rather than craving for something, but he’s asking in a roundabout and not so subtle way. You’d already eaten fairly recently, after all.

The method surprises you, considering he’s usually straightforward to a fault.

“Of course Wakatoshi,” you have to lean up to his height to wrap your arms around his neck, coaxing him into a soft kiss.

He presses his lips to yours without hesitation, accepting the gesture. You take it in stride with a bright smile, corners of your lips turning up into the kiss. You almost giggle when you feel his long lashes brush against your delicate skin.

You suspect Ushijima didn’t want to hold you back from having a good time, which is probably the same reason he suffered through 6 rollercoasters with you, and as a result suggested an alternative for you to enjoy instead. Spinning death traps are not for everyone, you suppose, and you aren’t opposed to trying one of the myriad of dessert places you spotted earlier.

“I’m craving something sweet, actually. You can pick where we go!”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

Ushijima pulls back from your kiss, serious countenance making its comeback.

From an outsider’s perspective, Ushijima probably seems like an aloof or indifferent boyfriend, but you knew better. It was his acts of service that enabled that sunny smile to cross your features, the way he wholeheartedly steps out of his comfort zone for you, how he’s learned to stray from his reserved habits in order to make things work.

Ushijima links his hand with yours, and you feel as thrilled as the first time he did it. Initially, he never bothered with hand holding. It took a while for Ushijima to understand the domesticity of something simple, like holding hands, and how special it could be for you. When he figured it out, he made sure to interlock your hands more often, fingers laced together and held steadily at his side.

“Alright, this way then!”

You usher him along, tugging his palm gently to make way for the ice cream shop you had in mind. Ushijima accepts the change of direction as he walks in step with you (a difficult task for someone so tall, and you appreciate the sweet yet silent gesture).

Walking along, weaving between couples and groups, Ushijima’s hand remains linked with yours. When you peek at him, your heart almost fully stops in your chest.

He looks stunning. Every neon sign and coaster you pace by paints Ushijima’s features with the vivid shades of every color on the spectrum.

The brilliant purples suit him best, but you think the crisp evergreens and hazy red glows are equally striking, illuminating his features so well. You didn’t think you could fall in love with him again and again so easily, but something as simple as the lighting in the area proves that theory wrong.

You whisk him away to your go-to dessert spot before he can catch you staring, eager to continue your amusement park date. On the other hand, Ushijima is just content to be close to you and away from the dizzying, literal head spinning rides.

“Let’s share a sundae! This one has a lot of treats and candies that go on top... tons of whipped cream, edible sparkles, not to mention it’s huge too!”

You gush, eyeballing the lurid stock photo picturing the absolute monstrosity of an ice cream sundae.

“Alright.”

Ushijima looks to be impartial to your request, relaying the order to your server. But his gaze is soft, at a complete loss for the harsh edges he naturally maintains. The subtle shift in his expression clues you in to his endearment for your ice cream enthusiasm, and you preen to yourself upon the realization.

You know Ushijima is subject to being labeled as that indifferent, aloof, and stone faced boyfriend.

But to you, he doesn’t need a smile that’s a mile wide. You can clearly see the soft glow in his hazel eyes, the kind that usually accompanies a grin anyways.

He doesn’t have to be experienced at showing public displays of affection, when he practices the underrated gestures–always carrying your stuff, opening doors, walking closest to the road, matching your pace–which are equally as special.

“I love you, Wakatoshi.”

And when you tell him you love him, you’re absolutely enamored as you’re caught up analyzing the little details his expression might give away. Your eyes flick across his features, as if you don’t already have every attribute and imperfection committed to memory and stamped onto your heart.

He doesn’t need to feel obligated to say it back immediately.

“I take it the sundae was good then?”

And he doesn’t, but you can see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

He doesn’t need to say I love you all the time, because you know he will when it counts. Late night haze, wrapped up in his arms in a safe space, smothered warmly by too many blankets. The moon’s glow dipping in passed the curtains and painting your cheeks with a lunar highlight, three words are whispered against the nape of your neck in spite of the comfortable silence.

“I love you ‘toshi, and I love this sundae.”

But that won’t stop you from reminding him whenever you can, if only to see the faint cherry pink play at the apples of his cheeks, eyes pretending to find something of fake interest in the distance. And without fail, Ushijima Wakatoshi will smile handsomely at every declaration of love you make to him.

A/N: I wanted to play with more introspection and imagery, I hope it turned out alright! This is probably the first Ushijima fic I’ve written kadlg i hope you enjoyed iiiit

[masterlist] taglist: @thatoneoddgirl8

#hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #hqradiostation #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi/reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #moot tay 🧸

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Virgil Hugs

@tsarinatorment asked:

Hugs #33: ‘picking them up’ hugs with Virgil&Scott

Consequently, we have a sop fest of total fluff. There is so much fluff, there is fluff on the fluff. I ran out of time - it is now well past midnight on a work night, so this isn’t as long as I would have liked, but it is enough, I hope.

Gonna add this one to the Hugs series I think :D

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for the read throughs and support.

I hope you enjoy it :D

Send me a Touches Game Ask

-o-o-o-

Virgil hugs came in many flavours.

So, okay, Scott was the eldest and technically speaking, he was the least likely to need any hugs from his younger brother. In fact, Scott took pride in branding his own big brother hugs because, let’s face it, he was the eldest and nobody wanted to knock him off that throne. Virgil had been quite adamant about it on several occasions.

So only Scott could give the eldest brother hugs and they were very useful for distressed younger brothers, sad younger brothers and even on those occasions where the hug turned into something that could more be considered strangling younger brothers.

Scott wielded his hugs just like any other tool in his arsenal. Expertly and precisely. But it had long been declared that Virgil gave the best brother hugs and if he was honest, Scott was quite happy not to compete.

What exactly made Virgil hugs better than any other Tracy hugs had yet to be determined. The fact that Virgil was the biggest brother probably helped. Not the tallest. Scott and John were still discussing that title. No, his sheer mass enabled the biggest, warmest, softest, cosiest hugs of them all. Virgil was just buff and meaty.

Scott groaned. Meaty. That was a Gordonism, a subject that required a whole other essay to discuss. His fish brother had a way with words that sometimes curdled the stomach.

But hugs, yes, Virgil with his well worn ever so soft flannel and big meaty…Scott groaned again…arms gave the best hugs.

But, as stated previously, they came in many flavours.

The most common was the fond hug. An arm would snake around the victim brother and literally drag him into Virgil’s embrace. You could be standing alongside him, politely minding your own business and for some reason the engineer would just reach out and grab. Occasionally the arm wouldn’t make it all the way around and Virgil would clamp onto a body part and yank. Arms, chunks of uniform or clothing, a random ribcage. There was the time Virgil had actually pulled Gordon out of the pool by one leg. Possibly in revenge. But after Scott had suffered a cardiac arrest, Gordon had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Virgil on the grass. It had cumulated in laughter and a pile of noogie to Gordon’s hair, grins all round.

Yes, his brother had a hug zone around him and if you stepped into it at the wrong time, you were toast.

One of Scott’s favourites was the ones that defied gravity. Those big arms were strong and, on occasion, a little over enthusiastic. Ribcages creaked, hoarse voices begged to breathe, and feet left the ground.

Yes, even Scott had been tackle hugged and picked up off the ground and spun around. It had been after a particularly long deployment in the Airforce. He had been out of contact with his family for a long time. The day he finally got home, Virgil had barrelled into him in the farmhouse hallway, grabbing and lifting both him and his bags off the floor in an excited embrace that spun them around almost twice.

Scott had dropped his bags in surprise and squawked. His uniform bunched up against the ribbons on his chest and the world went around.

“Virg, my god!”

Dropped to his feet once more, he found himself wrapped in a brother who seemed much bigger than he had been when he left.

And he was clinging.

“Virgil?”

His brother cleared his throat, face buried in Scott’s jacket. “Missed you.”

Scott had returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

No words were possible after that as the two youngest realised their biggest brother was home and all hell broke loose as they and the rest of the family congregated.

But the genuine love in Virgil’s eyes as he stepped back to let the ratbags in on the party had stayed with Scott for a very long time.

Of course, there were other hugs that were much less joyous. Ones where everything was dark and hurting and Virgil would pick it up like he had radar or something. Could be linked to his legendary medic-sense. After all, mental health was exactly that. Just another form of health.

There was the time Alan vanished. Up and completely disappeared. This is a somewhat challenging thing to do on a rather singular rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Scott had been on the verge of calling John for a location, but a hand had landed on Scott’s tense shoulder and squeezed gently. They had been standing out on the balcony. Virgil gestured quietly and, looking up, Scott saw the tiny figure of his littlest brother curled up on the cliff just below the roundhouse.

There had followed a mad rush up the peak to make sure Alan was safe, find out what was wrong…because something was definitely wrong…and fix it.

Turned out some asshole online had been bullying Scott’s little brother, ruining the game contest he had been so excited about three days earlier.

Scott saw red and deployed John. The culprit had been found and eliminated.

Very eliminated.

John particularly hated online predators.

But after that conversation, Scott had turned around to find Alan curled up in Virgil’s arms sobbing.

Jammed up against the wall of the roundhouse, Virgil himself had wet eyes and was combing his fingers through Alan’s hair. As Scott sat down beside them on the floor, Virgil pulled Alan in a little tighter. The engineer buried his face in his little brother’s hair and closed his eyes.

In those moments it was like his brother was bleeding something of himself into the person he was hugging. His expression almost willing comfort into Alan.

Of course, Alan eventually dove in for a Scott hug as well, the thirteen-year-old dragging both of his brothers into a comforting pile that was able to push away the nasty experience and eventually bring back their confident little brother. But it was Virgil who performed the hugging first aid while Scott hunted down the person responsible – whether it be via John or other means.

It seemed to be their roles in the family.

And it wasn’t limited to family.

Out in the field it was more caring hands and reassuring touches and words, but it was Virgil’s way of comforting the injured. If he had time, he would talk with the rescuees. Warm and kind words asking gentle questions about their lives, distracting them from the bleeding, the screaming and the horror.

And ultimately holding those they couldn’t save, giving parts of himself to make those last minutes a little less terrifying.

It was after those rescues, those moments, when Scott would have to hunt Virgil down. Sometimes he would find him at the piano pounding emotion into the keys. Other times locked in his studio.

They had a running tally of how many times Virgil had had to replace the lock on that door. Scott rarely took ‘no’ for an answer when he knew a brother was in distress.

But the worst times often led Scott on a hunt across the Island to a remote beach, cliff or other lonely landform. Thunderbird Five’s scanners had been used several times. Times where Virgil was determined to be alone to suffer by himself.

Sure, Scott could respect that…if that was what Virgil needed.

It wasn’t.

Because the hug machine that was his brother needed hugs in return.

Sure, he had methods to refuel other ways, but honestly, these were the times Scott felt a direct transfer of energy was warranted.

Those were the days he would hunt his brother down, grab him and hold him until the trembling stopped. He would sit with Virgil staring out across the ocean either just being quietly beside him, or answering the raging questions of injustice.

Those were days he would drag him back to the couch and they would fall asleep together in front of a movie neither of them was watching. A hand or an arm continually in contact.

Those were the days where touch was needed to give back what was so freely offered at all other times.

Scott’s hugs may be tactical but they were no less full of love.

And love his brother, he did.

Ever so much.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy

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tsuki-here · 3 years ago

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So I finally decided to write a tfp oneshot; I didn't really want to write anything multi-chaptered since I probably wouldn't have time to finish it, sooo I did this instead. Might try writing some other oneshots in the future, if I find the time. I haven't been able to write anything in months, so it probably ain't that good haha

Title: Hamaka

Characters: Starscream and Knock Out

Word count: 1,696

Pairings: Mentioned Breakdown/Knock Out, somewhat implied Starscream/Knock Out if you wanna interpret it as more than friendship

Summary: It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.

---------

He strode down the hall of the Nemesis with a forced air of purpose; body tensed, wings up, head held high, and face set in a grim, focused scowl. Not a single other soul was present in the hallway, so it seemed to all be a show for no one, but he knew better. There were cameras everywhere.

Turning the corner, he finally reached his destination and activated the panel to open the massive door in front of him, not daring to look back and see the trail of blue spatters that marked his path through the ship.

The instant the door slid shut behind him, Starscream let the facade drop. Wings fell, shoulders slumped, and an exhausted sigh escape him as he trudged to the examination table near the back wall of the room, ignoring the red optics that were already assessing his injuries from across the room.

This was one of the few places without a camera; Knock Out had made a big scene about 'doctor-patient confidentiality' when Soundwave had tried to install one cycles ago. After enough ranting and dramatics, Megatron finally caved just to shut him up. Soundwave installed one just outside the door instead, and even if the medic wasn't happy about it, he didn't push his luck on getting it removed. The walls were soundproof anyways; only when the door opened was the spyware liable to pick anything up.

With a quiet hiss, Starscream perched on the edge of the table as Knock Out gravitated to his side. He mumbled something inaudible about the Autobots, and the doctor gave a vague nod of understanding and pretended to believe him.

A few metallic clicks sounded somewhere just out of his peripherals as Knock Out's hand turned into a welding torch and he got started on mending any of the wounds that were bleeding. "You really ended up in bad shape."

He hadn't expected much more than that; consoling wasn't something the other bot excelled at. In fact, Starscream was surprised the response was so mild. No sarcasm or mockery that he was accustomed to when visiting the medbay, no prying for information with insensitive questions. That didn't mean he wouldn't make use of his own snarkiness. "Is that really your professional opinion, doctor?"

There wasn't an immediate response, and a period of silence elapsed as Knock Out continued his work, patching each and every open wound and split-open metal until no more energon trickled down to collect in the puddle on the floor. Starscream managed to get through the painful part of the procedure by gritting his teeth and waiting it out, until finally the blowtorch disappeared with another series of clicks. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of receding footsteps reached his audio receptors.

He realized he must have zoned out for a moment; next thing he knew, the red bot was at his side again, this time with a rotary buffer, and was nudging his arm away from his side with a gentle hand to get better access to the scuffed and dented armor there. Starscream complied to the wordless instruction, lifting his limb out of the way as the buffer spun to life with a soft whirring noise and began it's work smoothing out any unsightly marks.

In the span of a few minutes, the Seeker felt himself relaxing and his wings returning to their normal positioning rather than hanging miserably as if made of lead. This was one of the few things that could be looked forward to these days, it seemed, even if the relief was only temporary.

"So, are you going to tell me what really happened?" Knock Out finally spoke up again, moving on to work on his right wing and lightly tilting it up. "Must have been pretty serious if Megatron left you in this condition."

Starscream rolled his optics. There it was. Knock Out could never get through one of these sessions without saying something insensitive. His words were always barbed and laced with poison, in such a stark contrast to his handiwork, which was always carried out with such care. It made him wonder if it was some window into the doctor's life - pre-war life - anyways. Despite how much Knock Out talked, he never really said much. At least, nothing that mattered. All of the cycles he'd known the medic, and he knew nothing of his life before the war or why he'd joined the Decepticons, anything even remotely personal. And on top of that, he was near impossible to read. He knew how to guard his emotions, and he had no obvious body language to go off of, such as how he had his wings that often reflected his inner emotional state. Had he been kinder, back then? Or was he reading into something that held no meaning at all? "It's none of your business."

Knock Out merely hummed in acknowledgement and kept any further questions on the matter to himself, continuing his work with slow, methodical movements of the buffer. "If you say so."

Despite being quite the extrovert, Knock Out usually preferred to provide a type of company that was almost feline in nature. Simply being in the same room, talking about nothing, fixing up any blemishes- Actions doing all the communication because words just didn't fit his style of serious self-expression.

He wasn't really ready for the procedure to be over, and the internal sense of dread came bubbling back up nearly instantly when Knock Out stepped back and the buffer came to a halt. Being fixed meant he had to leave, had to return to difficult decisions and scrambling to stay alive. Had to risk ending up right back in the medbay if something went wrong, and that was if he was lucky.

Normally he would stand immediately, test his limbs and joints to make a show of ensuring the medic did his job correctly before excusing himself typically without any thanks. This time, Starscream stayed where he was as Knock Out returned his tool to its rightful place, hoping not to be asked why he lingered. The medbay was the one place he could relax, and expect a degree of comfort and understanding; it was safe.

[But no, that wasn't quite right, because the room had nothing to do with it, the room was nothing. The medbay wasn't safe, Knock Out was safe. It's such an important distinction, one Starscream still struggled to fully comprehend because trust was usually deadly in his experience.]

And safety was so rare and precious here, more valuable than any gem or riches one could ever hope to fathom.

It was no wonder, then, that the troops were drawn to the medbay for similar reasons as he was, all like moths to a dazzling light. The vehicons were all nobodies, created simply for the purpose of being bodies to throw at the enemy. They were mostly neglected and treated as tools, or at best, just ignored and deemed irrelevant, so a doctor's visit was as good as it got. Even if Knock Out didn't particularly care about the soldiers, he still treated them as living beings when he tended to their injuries, not to mention they got to be the center of his attention for those brief few minutes.

In fact, Starscream had an inkling that some of the vehicons' rather common injuries from the energon mines weren't quite as accidental as they claimed. He had no doubt at least a few of them had a little crush on the doctor and just wanted an excuse to visit the medbay to get their paint jobs fixed. He couldn't say he blamed them; Knock Out glowed like a flame on a starless night.

After a few moments passed, he felt the medic's gaze on him once again, and braced himself to make some excuse of why he hadn't left yet, though the question never came. Rather, Knock Out stated, "At least the war can't drag on for too much longer, with the limited resources left. We'll be able to return to Cybertron soon, I imagine."

The change in topic was welcome, anything to distract from the reason he was there to begin with, not to mention to focus on a more hopeful prospect.

[A part of him recognized Knock Out chose the topic with a level of subtle deliberation, specifically to get his mind in a better place. The automobile was never too concerned with the fate of Cybertron; he'd grown too fond of Earth over the years, Primus knows why.]

The conversation meandered from there, drifting like a raft lost at sea between topics and non-topics, words that hardly even made sense and were just there to fill the void.

It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.

"Be careful," was all Knock Out had to say, but there was a tone of concern and hurt in his expression that Starscream wasn't sure he'd ever heard or seen before.

[Because Breakdown was dead and the doctor was still grieving for his conjunx, in his own internalized way, and there wasn't much left he had to care about now.]

He didn't know what to say or what he even could say to ease the other's worry, and just turned away. The medbay doors slid shut behind him, and the sudden, oppressive isolation was like a physical blow that required a moment to recover from before he started down the dark hallway, this time without any limp or biting pain. His path of blood splotches still remained, the glow of the energon having dulled with the passage of time, like an eerie breadcrumb trail beckoning to him. He followed, vaguely aware that it was luring him back into the vicious cycle of war and violence he'd grown accustomed to over the millions of years, and with every step, further away from home.

#starscream #knock out #tfp #transformers #prime #transformers prime #oneshot #short fic #fanfic

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amitojo · 5 years ago

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6 Steps to Overcome Fear / Self-Limiting Beliefs

6 Steps to Overcome Fear / Self-limiting Beliefs

At first, I didn’t think I’d write about this. The challenge to myself was to just post the video, that’s it. But witnessing such amazing response I thought I’d share more and give you a background of what was going on in my head and how I chose to go past my limiting belief.

I recently uploaded a video on all my social media profiles. This video was purely out of my commitment to my growth and me moving beyond my mind-made fears and limitations. If you haven’t watched the video — Watch it below 👇 (not for content but for context)

youtube

Notice how I put “mind-made” in bold; it is because there are two kinds of fear. One is real, one is not.

One is life-threatening, like you falling down from a height or fear of crossing roads in fast moving traffic, etc.

The other fear is made by our mind to “protect” the ego, to keep us in a safe, comfortable place (emotionally). Basic example of mind-made fears is — one not raising their hand in class which is equivalent to one not sharing / communicating cause of fear of being judged. This fear encourages behaviour which is safe and comfortable. There’s not much to lose per se, but then there’s not much to gain as well.

Growth is outside the comfort zone. Growth is in doing things we’ve never done before, learning things we haven’t learnt before.

I am going to be talking about mind-made fear / self-limiting beliefs.

I am certain we all have gone beyond our mind-made fears / limitations some time or the other, out of necessity if not by choice. However, in this article, I will share the exact steps I took that inspired me to go beyond the limiting belief so it can be replicated and we can choose to move beyond our made up limitations at whim and not only when it is absolutely necessary.

----

I thought of this idea (of sharing a video) last week. I remember I was in the shower, just contemplating life, dreams, goals.

I thought about my dream of leading/influencing people (leading, educating, training, DJing). That lead me to think about the repercussions of coronavirus on the music, entertainment, and training/education industry. How a lot of artists/leaders/trainers/educators are going “live” on various social medias to further their vision and provide value. I thought about how I could also do the same and that’s where I stopped. I immediately said to myself, “Nah, I can’t do that.”

I introspected, why can’t I do that?

The answer was fear of being judged.

Thats when I thought I’d take a step beyond this fear and upload a video.

One half of me (the higher-self) instantly agreed to do this as it saw all the possibilities, the bright side, how it will expand me. It took this as an opportunity. I thought to myself, here I am, one who dreams to perform in front of people, lead people, one who dreams of fame, etc, and I am not comfortable with myself?

How could I lead people when I am not confident about myself? How could I play in front of people if am not confident about myself? — To be specific — When I get conscious of people looking at me and listening to me! [I have been comfortable with 1 on 1 conversations but 1 to group, not that much — working on it]

I thought to myself — How could I be everything that I wanted and more without being completely comfortable with myself — be it with the way I look, the way I talk, the way I am in general.

I assume that all the people I aspire to be like — the ones who are leading, the ones who are performing, the ones who are comfortable putting out videos, etc, are like that because they are comfortable with themselves, how they are, who they are, and are confident about themselves.

I have got to own myself and accept myself as is, I thought to myself! This is it, this is me!

Extra motivation came in the form of the realisation that I will be able to share / contribute much more value via video on top of what I am and will be providing through just writing.

So I said to myself — challenge accepted!

I took this idea as a stepping stone to achieve my goals and dreams.

The other half of me (the ego), however, did not like this idea at all! It was not confident about this. It thought this idea was stupid, pointless. It’s funny how the ego was giving me two contradicting reasons to stop me from recording and uploading the video.

People will make fun of you. You’ll look like an idiot. No one cares about your upload or what you’re doing, etc.

You are just doing this to satisfy your ego (lol) [I read somewhere, as we learn more, become smarter, our egos do too. #JusSharin]

Basically anything to get me not to do this.

My ego was asking me not to take any action — to protect itself. I had a lot of reasons not to do this, one of the main ones being — “what will people say or think?” (Hence I took around a week to upload a 30-second video. I did it nonetheless.)

This question of “what will people think/say?” alone has stopped me from living my best life since forever. I get present to this thought’s deep-rooted nature in my life, in my way of being each day. I get present to the impact it has on my life, the opportunity costs and it drives me to move ahead, go beyond this dialogue and be/do/say whatever I want to be/do/say. [It does, a lot of times, make me feel like a loser too, I won’t lie— mainly when I accept the limitations and I don’t take any action. ]

“Action may not always bring happiness, but there is no happiness without action.”

Benjamin Disraeli

I have been on a conscious journey of self-expression since 2013, I think.

Self expression for me = to be, do, say who I am, what/how I feel — unapologetically.

I have noticed how I suppress my thoughts, emotions, point of views and I am actively working on communicating the same.

I have come a long way from where I was back then, no doubt, but there is still a long way to go!

3-4 years back, I gave myself a challenge to write about my feelings, share my journey, my point of views. I was pretty nervous back when I started. It was new for me. But it was a small step towards self-expression. Once I did start writing however, it felt freeing and I got really positive response from people around me. Now I am pretty comfortable with that — so much so that I started a blog!

Now, I gave myself another challenge — to put out a video of me on social media.

This meant A LOT to me. I don’t know if you have noticed, but I am not one of those who post their pictures, selfies, or post videos of themselves or go live. I’m not comfortable getting clicked… So, posting a video which I took of myself — online? 😅

But I did it. And you know what, I felt great. I respect myself more. I love myself more. I am proud of myself.

----

So down to business, 6 steps I used to overcome my fear / self-limiting belief

Identify the fear / limiting belief

Get present to the impact it has had on your life till now.

Get present to its impact in the future, if things remain the same — the opportunity costs

Imagine if you didn’t have that fear — what would you be/do/say? How would you look like? How would life look like?

Ask yourself, what is one thing you could do today that would take you closer to that you/life without fear? One step to take you beyond that fear/limitation. It could be a baby step.

Take that step and acknowledge / celebrate it (It is extremely important to acknowledge and celebrate. Success breeds success. — Small victories form momentum and bring about big victories.)

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

Lao Tzu

I took the baby steps and I love myself for that. I feel powerful. I guess the most powerful feeling is when you go beyond your own limitations; when you prove it to yourself that YOU CAN DO IT! That’s a different kind of high.

I felt so good and freeing after posting the video and receiving the amazing response, that I made a youtube channel! 😂

PLIS Subscribe 🙂 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9hui_ukYf811voHO6HrT1g?

Also, I used the above-mentioned method to start waking up at 5am!!! I don’t know if you know, but I have always considered myself a night person. It was effortless for me to stay up till 4,5,6 am and the best time to sleep for me was when the sun was rising. My closest friends call me DK (Dark Knight) cause I always meet them late at night, nothing to do with the fact that I usually wear the color Black (haha). I never saw myself as a morning person, but now I am waking up at 5 am 2-3 times a week. My aim is to wake up at 4 am on weekdays at least.

Late nights were productive (when I was at home). Late night is a good time to work because there’s little to no distractions. Same is the case with waking up early morning though. There is little to no distraction And trust me when I say this — the most productive days of MY LIFE have been when I woke up at 4/5 am!

*Bonus Tips*

If your mind says you can’t do it — Look for other people who have done what you’re committed to doing. If they can do it, you can do it! (Learn how they did it, what worked for them)

Repeat! — If you keep repeating the 6 steps, be it in any area of life, for any reason — you will not recognize yourself when you look back. The amount of growth and expansion you will achieve is going to be insane.

----

To conclude, this method did work for me in different areas of life and I believe it will work for you too if you apply it as per the steps outlined above.

Don’t be hard on yourself if you don’t see results right away though, it is a journey. Be patient, and more importantly, be consistent with your effort and never give up (characteristics of the people who succeed).

Start with baby steps. I am certain that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to!

Extremely important note — ***All of this (me sharing and expressing my point of views), is possible because of the amazing listening and reception I get from my community (both online and offline) — my friends, family — all the generous, loving, and supportive people who have made this journey of self-expression, self-awareness so pleasant, peaceful and joyous. Thank you so much for being so supportive and encouraging always! Means A LOT!***

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you 🙏

Lots of love!

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 58

Warnings: profanity, graphic descriptions of blood, violence

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Koen grumbles, as he sits at the table in front of the balcony door, tightly lacing his combat boots. They’re old and scuffed but still do the trick; well worn and trustworthy, having seen him through his last two tours while in active service.

“Well no one asked you what you think, so…” Tyler’s voice trails off as he shrugs into a black utility vest. Slipping it over a tight fitting white tank that will protect his skin from the vest’s harsh material, tightly securing the straps on both shoulders and across either side of his rib cage.

It’s nowhere near as comfortable as the one he’d owned prior; army green, years on the job leaving it riddle with indents left by bullets, knife slices in the fabric, and torn and fraying edges. There’d been something almost comforting about the ‘wounds’ it sported; testaments to all of the injuries -some in places that would have no doubt been fatal- he’d avoided and all the times he’d managed to walk away. He misses the familiarity of it; the weight of the kevlar between the layers, the smell that had clung to it, the various stains that had discolored the cloth. This one is still stiff against his body and still smells new despite the numerous times he’d worn it while working out in the gym. The extra weight adding an edge, a challenge, to even the most strenuous of workout, yet the rivers of sweat he’d shed had done little to leave his scent behind. This vest hasn’t earned its keep yet; hasn’t been put to the test and earned his trust and respect.

In less than an hour it will. It will be ‘do or die’ time. Either keeping him safe or failing miserably.

“You know I’m only on your ass ‘cause I care about ya,” Koen says. “‘Cause I give a rat’s ass about whether you live or die.”

“And I appreciate that, mate. I do. But I’ve been doing this for years. It’s what I do. Who I am. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You think so, do you? When have you ever been in a situation like this?”

“I’m always in situations like this. What do you think mercenaries do? We run into fucked up places and go against fucked up people and we face fucked up odds. And most of the time, we live to tell about it.” He snags an olive green shirt from the army rucksack; two sizes bigger than normal, but adequately hiding the bulk provided by the vest.

“You know what I mean. A situation like THIS. Where there’s a bounty on your damn head the size of Texas. Where it’s your own family that’s being threatened. This Mahajan isn’t playing any games. He’s got the best of the best working for him, and when shit goes down and he figures out you’re behind all of this, the shit’s really going to hit the fan.”

“You act like I don’t already know all of that. Who’s the one that’s new to all this? And who’s the one that’s been doing it for years?”

“You know, for someone that HAS been doing it for as long as you have, you sure are fucking stupid. Sure are making rookie decisions.”

“I work better alone,” Tyler says. “But you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know ‘job me’. You’ve never been around him. Guess you’re going to find out pretty quick exactly who I really am, aren’t you.”

“It ain’t who you are,” Koen argues. “It’s part of who you are. So fuck off with that shit. And I get you’ve been doing this a long time. I get it. I respect it. But I still think it’s a mistake that you’re going into this alone when you’re the one Mahajan wants dead. If you ask me…”

“I’m NOT asking you,” Tyler irritably interjects. “No one is asking you. Now get off my ass. This is how I do things. Alone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”

“I just think…”

“I love you, mate, and I get you’re worried about me, but fuck off. I don’t need a babysitter. No matter what my wife thinks.”

“She’s worried about your stubborn ass too. You wanna go home to her and your kids? ‘Cause you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“You want to still have all your teeth? ‘Cause you’re going to lose a few if you bring up my family again.”

“You call home this morning?”

Tyler frowns. “What did I just say?”

Koen holds his hands up in surrender. “Just asking if you called home.”

“I called last night. Said the things I needed to say. That I should have said a long time ago. Flight left at seven their time; won’t be hearing from them until after they land.”

“And everything’s good? With Esme and the littles?”

“As good as it can be, I guess.” He slips his arms into the sleeves of a baggy hoodie; black and bearing no company or brand logos. Something cheap and simple that won’t show blood and he won’t mind throwing out if he can’t get it clean. He’s not much of a talker before a mission; finding mindless conversations and the sound of other peoples’ voices both needless AND annoying. He prefers to be quiet in that last hour; getting himself into ‘the zone’. Throwing himself into the deep end of his own mind space and psyching himself up; mentally replaying his plans over and over again, each step helping fire up his adrenaline.

“You should at least call and leave a message,” Koen says. “Or a text or something. You know, just in case.”

Tyler ignores him; attaching his holster -gun already secured inside- onto the waistband of his cargo pants. On his right hip, hoodie easily covering it and not leaving a noticeable outline or bulge. SAT phone in one side pocket, personal cell in the other; knife and its holder resting at the small of his back. He’d sharpened it the night before; deadly enough to slice through paper and guaranteeing if the wound is in the right spot, death will be near instantaneous. He would have preferred a slower and more calculated and cold method of killing, but with very limited minutes and space, he needs to be fast and efficient and worry about torture and watching them suffer when he has more time on his hands. That will come; a chance to truly make them pay. And he’s looking forward to it.

“Are you listening to me at all?” Koen inquires. “I said you should…”

“I heard what you said. And I already told you that I called home last night. I talked to Esme, I told her I love her and said all the things I should have said to her a long time ago. I don’t need to call and leave a message, I don’t need to text her. We talked. We said what we needed to say to each other and that’s it. Leave it alone. She’s my wife, not yours. Stop with this fucked up obsession with her.”

“Obsession with her?” Koen scowls. “What the hell you going on about? What…?”

“Look, it was cute at first. I was flattered you thought my wife was hot. I laughed about all the little comments you’d make about what she looks like and what her ass is like and how you don’t understand why she’s with me and how if she wanted a real man, she’d get with you. I was fine with it. The way you flirt with her, the way you look at her.”

“I’m joking around. Poking fun. Yeah, she’s a beautiful woman. And I do think you’re lucky as fuck that you landed someone like her. But no way in hell would she leave a guy like you for me. And as far as looking at her a certain way, what…?”

“Just stop with her. I could take it at first. At first it seemed harmless. But that’s my wife. The mother of my kids. And I don’t fucking like it. How close you’re always trying to get to her. So I’d appreciate it if you’d back off.”

“I think you’re losing it,” Koen laughs. “I think you’re going mental. No one is trying to steal your wife, mate. Especially not me. I’d never do that to you, you should know that. I’d never do you like that.”

“I’d just rather you not do the things you do. Not talk about her the way you do. It bugs the shit out of me. I’ve already had one person try and fuck things up between us. I won’t let anyone else try it.”

“I think you need your head read. Professional help of some kind. Because I have no idea where all that came from or what you’re so fucking insecure about. She ain’t ever gonna be with the likes of me when she’s got someone like you with your pretty blue eyes and your muscles out to next week. It’s obvious as fuck that she ain’t ever gonna leave you. That she loves your dumb, stupid ass for some reason. Must be just as mental as you.”

“You’re going to drive me mental is what you’re going to do,” Tyler retorts, then moves to the door when a pounding -likely from the toe of a shoe or a boot- threatens to shake it off its hinges. Snapping open the deadbolt and removing the chain lock after a quick check through the peephole determines there’s no threat waiting out in the hall.

“How you feeling?” Yaz inquires, as he and Ovi step into the room. “You good? Got your head in the game?”

“My head’s exactly where it needs to be. Not like Koen’s, which is shoved up so far up my ass…”

“He’s in a mood,” Koen interjects. “Being a little bitch.”

“He doesn’t like to talk before he goes out,” Yaz explains. “Too much talk and chatter and noise fucks with his head space; keeps him out of the zone. We realized a long time ago not to say shit to him until it’s absolutely necessary. You’ll learn. We did.”

Ovi nods in agreement.

“Bring me what I need?” Tyler asks.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” This…” Yaz reaches into the pocket of his black jeans, pulling a flat, silver disk no larger than a dime. “...is how we hear you. Just gotta tap your finger against it to activate it. It’s all charged and ready to go.” He slips a hand through the open zipper on Tyler’s hoodie, attaching the disk -via a small yet powerful magnet on the back[ to the neck of Tyler’s t-shirt. “...and this…” from his second pocket, he removes a listening device; small and kidney bean shaped, moulded out of clear silicone. “...is how you hear me. Just slip this right in your ear. Got it?”

Tyler nods, then plucks the device from Yaz’ palm and slips it into his left ear. A creature of habit; using the same routines and following the same rituals he’d discovered he was most comfortable with during his early days in the game. Each merc has their ‘thing’; lucky underwear or socks, certain meals they’ll consume before heading out, the same song they’ll listen to on repeat to fire themselves up. His ‘thing’ has always revolved around his gear. Putting pieces on in a certain order, cleaning all his weapons TWICE, not engaging in conversation in the last hour leading up. It’s all mind over matter, but it never fails to feel as if it’s giving him an edge. Even a sense of comfort and security.

“Ovi will drop you off at the shipping and receiving door,” Yaz says. “Our inside guy will be waiting. Knock twice so he knows it’s you. He’ll have a key to the freight elevator; take that to the twelfth floor, leave the key on the window ledge. I know you already know all of this, but it calms my nerves to go through it again.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re an odd duck, Yaz.”

“This coming from a guy who puts three shots of espresso in his coffee right before a gig.”

“Could be doing a lot worse. Remember that guy who used to short two lines of coke right before he went out?”

“Lorenzo. Fuck, I forgot about him. Whatever happened to him?”

“Got into a bar fight in Chicago and got fucked up. Last I heard he was running with some rogue crew that works out of New Mexico.”

“That guy was a whackadoo. Makes you look sane and that’s saying something. Now remember, you only have three minutes. That’s it. Wait by the freight elevator until I tell you that I’ve killed the security cameras. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“When you’re done, haul ass. Ovi will be waiting two blocks west. In front of a dry cleaners. You won’t be able to miss him.”

“You better fucking be there,” Tyler warns Ovi. “‘Cause if you leave me hanging, I’ll gut you like a fish next.”

Ovi’s eyes widen, and both Tyler and Yaz burst into laughter at his surprised -and terrified- expression.

“I’m kidding, kid. I’d never do that. I’d beat you ass, But I wouldn’t do THAT.”

“Good to go?” Yaz asks. “Got everything you need?”

Tyler scowls.

“Right...right...I know. I ask the same stupid shit before every job. Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I still think letting him go alone is fucked up,” Koen remarks, still sitting by the balcony door.

Yaz sighs. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Twenty minutes until go time and you’re bringing me this? Now is NOT the time for this. One and two. Gotta take ‘em out. That’s what he’s going to do. Enough of this shit?”

“What if something goes wrong?” Koen asks.

“Something’s going to go wrong in a second when I toss your ass off the balcony,” Tyler snarls. “What is your major malfunction? Do you know how many of these I’ve done? How many jobs I’ve been on? I can fucking take care of myself, mate. You’re only gonna get in the way if you tag along. Let me take care of my shit, you take care of yours.”

“I said I’d keep an eye on ya. This isn’t keeping an eye on ya. Letting you go off on your own.”

“We gotta go,” Yaz says, and yanks a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Time’s a wastin. We’re going to miss these guys if you don’t leave now.”

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures his friend. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I’ve been in way more dangerous situations than this and I always came out of them alive. I ain’t breaking that streak now.”

“You fuck up and something happens to you, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again. Hear me?”

“I hear ya,” Tyler says, and then gives a small, almost uncomfortable chuckle when Koen embraces him in front of the others. His tone and face both softening when he tousles what little hair his friend has left on his head. “I’ll be careful, mate. I got this. You and Rata be careful out there. These guys? Mahajan and his people? They don’t fuck around. Watch each other’s backs.”

“Who’s gonna watch yours?” Koen inquires, and Tyler gives him a quick, one armed hug before heading for the door.

“I watch my own.”

***

“Change of plans,” Tyler says, when Ovi pulls the rented SUV into the alley behind the Grand Hyatt.

The younger man’s eyes widen. “Change of plans? No change of plans! Why a change of plans?”

“Did you not fucking notice the police station half a block away from the dry cleaners? There’s no way your old man doesn’t have law enforcement in on this. Remember Asif? Dhaka? Look what he was able to do. And your old man has a lot more power than Asif ever had.”

“We can’t just go and change things,” Ovi protests. “We can’t…”

“I’m the boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. You park and wait for me there, they’ll see me coming. And you can’t tell me that spineless fuck doesn’t have my picture plastered all over the goddamn place. Go two blocks EAST. Not west. Then text me and let me know where you are.”

“This is a bad idea,” Ovi laments. “We should just stick to the plan. We should…”

Scowling, Tyler angrily snatches him by the front of the shirt. “Fucking listen to me! I call the shots and I am telling you to go east. Not west. Just do as I fucking say and then wait for me. Understand?”

Ovi swallows noisily and nods frantically.

“I go anywhere near that police station, I’m fucked. I’ve got a knife and a Glock on me. I don’t stand a goddamn chance if they all start shooting. So do what I say and I at least live long enough to call my kids tonight and read them a bedtime story. Now fucking listen to me and don’t get me killed!”

He doesn’t give Ovi a chance to respond, instead throwing open the passenger door and climbing out; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, head down as he heads for the loading docks and the shipping and receiving doors. It’s better to be safe than sorry; not taking the chance that there’s any outside cameras that can capture a decent picture of him entering the building. His strides are long and purposeful, yet calm and confident; stones, dirt, and other debris crunching and shifting under the soles of his combat boots.

It’s just as easy as Yaz said it would be; knocks being promptly answered, no eye contact made or words exchanged as a single gold plated key is pressed into the palm of his hand as he passes by. And he’s not sure if it’s plain lucky or the ‘inside man’ had arranged to keep other employees out of the area, but it’s oddly quiet and he doesn’t encounter another living soul during his short walk through the bowels of the hotel and to the service elevator.

He’s been on the job long enough that nerves are no longer an issue. Learning long ago that the more relaxed you are and the more you’re able to ‘silence’ your brain, the smoother and easier things will go. Focusing on something other than the task at hand keeps you from dwelling on your game plan, which in turn prevents you from second guessing yourself and switching things up at the last second. That only leads to disaster. He’s seen many a good merc seriously injured and even killed because they thought too much; letting the game fuck to much with their heads and getting an advantage on them instead of the other way around. So instead of thinking of the task mere minutes away, he lets his mind go blank; eyes riveted on the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as it makes it slow, rumbling ascent. Hands still shoved in his pockets as he slowly rocks back and forth on his heels. It’s a habit that ‘new Tyler’ has fallen into an ‘old Tyler’ can’t seem to break; that slight motion of his body that’s comforted many a crying or colicky baby and has gotten them to sleep when all other methods seemed futile. And it works for his nerves as well; taking off the edge yet never stripping away the one emotion he does allow himself to feel. Rage.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes in through the ear piece, and Tyler reaches into his hoodie to tap a finger against the disk attached to the front of his shirt.

“I’m in. On the ninth floor now.”

“Twelfth is clear. You’ll see a cleaning person; that’s one of ours. Got one on each floor preventing other people from leaving their rooms. Let me know when you get off the service elevator and I’ll kill the security cameras. Remember, you’ve only got three minutes.”

“What if they don’t get on the elevator?”

“Do what you have to do. Rooms 903 and 905. Take them out whatever way you have to. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

The elevator comes to a shuddering, rumbling stop; doors shuddering as they slowly slide open. He leaves the lone key on the window sill as instructed, then mumbles a low, drawn out “Fuck” and quickly turns on his heel to face outside when he hears voices -female- approaching from around the corner. He can see their reflections in the glass; young, nearly twenties, their glossy dark hair pulled back into ponytails and their tall, willowy bodies clad in the burgundy and gold uniforms sported by all hotel staff. And they never pause in their loud, animated conversation or even glance in his direction as they wait for the elevator. Seconds seem like minutes; his annoyance growing with each passing moment, an audible sigh of relief leaving his lips when the elevator finally arrives and the women step aboard, doors slowly sliding closed.

“Do your thing,” he says. “I’m good to go.”

“I’m on it,” Yaz responds. “Cameras going down in five...four...three...two...one. You’ve got three minutes. Go.”

Tyler swiftly turns on his heel; feet going from gleaming tile to plush carpet. And he exchanges a quick nod with Yaz’ ‘man’; one hand still shoved in the pocket of his sweater as the other reaches out to hit the button to call the elevator.

“One and two are leaving their rooms now,” Yaz says. “Elevator is two floors above you. No one on it. You’re in the clear.”

“They armed?”

“Can’t tell. Let’s just go ahead and assume they are. Stay on your toes.”

“You doubting my knowledge of this shit, Yaz? You telling me how to do things?”

“I’m nervous. Fuck off, Rake.” It’s always last name only when Yaz gets riled up; his nerves and stress are always on high alert, even when he’s not the one actually out there doing the dirty work. “Two minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, when the elevator finally arrives and Tyler steps on. “Think you can handle this, old man?”

Smirking, Tyler directs a middle finger at the camera he knows is mounted just above the control panels. And he settles himself as that rear of the lift, casually leaning back against the mirrored wall, both hands out of his pockets and arms now crossed over his chest.

“I’d say good luck but I know you won’t need it,” Yaz says. “We’re going silent for the rest of the trip. Talk in a few. Have fun.”

He gives a nod and a tight lipped smile. The adrenaline is at its peak now. Even after all these years it’s a rush; the possibility of the situation turning dangerous, the quick and efficient pace he’ll have to work at. But it’s not the adrenaline that has his heart thundering in his chest or the rush of blood thundering in his ears or his jaw clenching. It’s rage. The knowledge that he’s about to come face to face with pure and utter evil. People that would have done horrible and vile things to his family. His CHILDREN. It’s the desire...the want...the NEED...to take another life.

He recognizes them when they step onto the elevator; faces familiar from the pictures he’s been studying since Anil gave him ‘the list’. And neither pause in their conversation -a mixture of both Hindi and English- but both give him polite smiles and nods, one even offering a friendly “good morning” that he’s hesitant to return but bites the bullet and does anyway. And he briefly looks over his shoulder; quickly studying himself to make sure the rage isn’t as visibly obvious as it feels. Both men have their backs to him; shoulders pressed together, their words and their laughter hanging heavily in the air. And while his eyes study them from head to toe and attempt to ascertain any possible threat or if they are armed, his right hand reaches under his hoodie, thumb sliding through the loop that sits on the top of the knife; fingers curling around the hilt.

“Excuse me for a second, would ya mate?” He asks, then using his own shoulder to push his way between them, successfully creating a gap; fingers reaching for one of the floor numbers before he slams his palm against the stop button.

The elevator gives a sudden, violent lurch and Tyler uses it to his advantage. Throwing his entire body weight into the man on the right, the collision sending both of them into the side wall.. And Tyler slams his elbow into the sternum with enough force to break it; the audible crack and the man’s startled and pained yelp echoing in the small, cramped area. A noise that only becomes shrill and terrified when he effortlessly jams the tip of the knife into the already injured man’s navel, and with a ruthless and vicious upwards yank -one fluid, easy motion- he sends the sharp, glistening blade up to the hollow of the man’s throat. His first victim drops into a heap on the floor; still gurgling and flailing helplessly as he clings to the last shred of life as his own blood and some of his internal organs begin to pool around him.

The fist that’s thrown his way is easy to avoid; his instincts and reflexes are quick and uncompromising. And he’s able to hook an arm around the other man’s bicep and throw him to his stomach; forehead and chest slamming off the blood soaked floor. And he’s attempting to scramble to his feet when Tyler places a knee in the middle of his back; every pound and inch of his much broader, taller, strong frame shoved into every shred of pressure he applies.

“Look at me,” Tyler orders, and when the man below him refuses, snatches a fistful of hair and yanks his head back. “I said fucking look at me!”

The eyes that look up at him are terrified, yet still bear a remaining glitter of deviance.

“You recognize me now don’t you,” Tyler snarls. “Well this is what you get for fucking with my family.”

He slams the knife home just under the left ear. And he can hear the tear of skin, muscle and tissue and the crack of cartilage as the tip pierces straight through. Pausing briefly; allowing the full reality set into the other man’s brain before he quickly draws the knife across his throat. Jamming it in far enough to hit bone when he reaches the other ear; hand still tightly gripping silky, thick hair, gaze never wavering and his rage never subsiding as he watches all life and hope drain from the other man’s face and eyes.

There’s a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he stands; hands steady as he swipes the blade of the knife across one of his thighs, cleaning the blood off of it before slipping it back under his hoodie and into its holder. He’s barely broken a sweat, and he’s eerily calm as he steps through the growing puddle of blood and over the lifeless carcasses; releasing the stop button and then pressing the one for the next available floor.

Tyler checks his watch. There's still a minute and a half remaining.

It feels good to be back.

****

“A minute and a half,” Yaz says in way of greeting, when Tyler strolls into the conference room twenty minutes later; already shrugging out of his blood and sweat soaked hoodie. “Not too bad for an old fuck! Didn’t misplace a hip, did you old timer?”

“Hope I don’t misplace my foot when I put it up your ass,” he playfully retorts, unable to contain the grin that spreads across his face.

It’s one of immense satisfaction. Pride, even. Feeling relief that he hasn’t lost his edge or any of his abilities and he’s only become stronger and faster. Smarter. His skills and his instincts seem sharper than before. And it feels good; the physical act of killing. It’s the first time he’s ever encountered that; enjoying taking a life and watching someone in the thralls of death. But it’s personal this time around. Mahajan never should have threatened him or his wife and his children. Because now he’s going to enjoy every second of sending that message loud and clear: you’ve fucked with the wrong man’s family.

“I will never...EVER...again doubt you, oh wise one,” Yaz chuckles, and then dramatically bows to him. “Made a fuck of a mess of the elevator though. Couldn’t have been more graceful about things?”

“Messier it is, the bigger and louder the message it sends. And thanks, by the way. You almost dumped my ass right by a police station.”

“Yeah, Ovi called me. Told me about the change in plans. Sorry about that, Ooops.”

“Oops? I could have gotten my ass shot on the first day and that’s all you can say? Ooops? How the fuck did you miss that, anyway? You’re usually on the ball when it comes to this recon shit. What the fuck, mate?”

“You know, sometimes I DO screw up.”

“Well don’t screw up when it’s my ass on the line, yeah?” Tyler removes both the earpiece and the transmitter and drops them onto the conference table. “Those little things are a hell of a lot better than those wired pieces of shit we used to have. I’m not fucking choking myself trying to use an ear piece attached to a fucking radio. How’s things? Anyone else check in?”

“Koen and Rata are chasing their guys down. They've given them the slip twice already.”

Tyler smirks, then slips the t-shirt over his head and drops it and the hoodie into a nearby chair. “Rookies.”

“Anil and Nathan are doing some surveillance on the other side of town. Gonna be pissed and jealous as shit when I tell them you’re already done and back. Other than that, there’s not much to tell you.”

He tears the velcro strips open on the one side of the vest; left shoulder and rib cage finally free. Grunting and grimacing at the pain in his right arm when he slips the vest over his head. Then peels off the sweaty tank and uses it to wipe sweat and blood from his face, brow, and neck. Unable to contain the smirk that plays on his lips when he catches sight of the young female tech across the room intently watching him.

“Hey!” Yaz snaps at her. “Focus! That ain’t your prize you’re looking at. He’s married!”

Tyler chuckles, then reaches for a bottle of water from the case sitting in the middle of the table. “Kinda harsh, mate. She’s harmless. She can look.”

“What is it with you and all the thirsty women? They don’t even care about that ring on your finger.”

“I care about it and that’s all that matters. They can be as thirsty as they want. I’m not entertaining it, so…”

“Still disrespectful as fuck. To you, your wife. I mean, you’re married. You’ve got kids, for fuck sake. Means they should back the fuck off. And speaking of married, you hear from Esme?”

“She left me a message before they left. Said she’d call as soon as they got in. It’s a long flight; they won’t be here until at least six.” He both groans and grimaces when he drops into one of the chairs, and then reaches down to untie his boots and toe them off. “I did make a fucking mess, didn’t I,” he observes, as he picks up one boot, then the other, surveying the splatters of blood on the fabric and the already drying mess on each sole.

“Felt good though, didn’t it. To get shit done. To kill the fuckers that we’re going to kill your family. Bet it felt damn good.”

“Even better than I thought it would,” he admits.

“You going to the airport?” Yaz asks.

“Didn’t know it was an option. Thought I was supposed to to stay away. Until I was given the all clear.”

“That’s for when they’re at the house. What harm could come from you showing up at the airport? No one even knows you’re in Mumbai yet. We’d hear chatter if Mahajan was suspicious. If you wanna go…”

“I don’t wanna fuck things up. If someone IS following me…”

“You’d know that by now. Fuck, you’d probably be DEAD right now. And we’ve got eyes and ears on you. I can send a couple of people to tail you, just in case. You’ve got nothing else going on for the rest of that day. You’ve earned your keep. And then some.”

“I could go out and help Rata and Koen chase their guys down. Or do my own surveillance. Take Ovi with me. Teach him something that won’t lead to me getting shot in the head.”

“It’s the first day,” Yaz says. “Relax. You’ve done enough. Take the down time while you can.”

“I could use a shower and a change of clothes. Something to eat. Maybe some sleep.”

“Go to the airport,” Yaz insists. “I’ll have people follow you. I know it’s killing you; being away from your family. It’ll do you a world of good to see them. Even if it is just for a few minutes.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “It would. Wouldn’t mind hugging and kissing my wife and seeing my kids.”

“Your job’s done for the day. Shit is only going to get harder and more intense from here on out. Who knows when you’ll get to see them next. Go clean yourself up. Get some food in you. Some sleep. And then go and see your family. You’re one of the lucky ones, man. You’ve GOT a family that you can see. Don’t take that for granted.”

“That’s something I DEFINITELY have to stop doing.”

“I know they’re probably dying to see you too. Can’t tell me those kids don’t miss their daddy. They’re pretty nuts about ya.”

He grins. “Yeah, I’m pretty nuts about them too. You sure you guys will be okay without me?”

“We’ll manage. If I need you THAT bad, I know how to get a hold of you. Seriously, go and see your family, Tyler. I know you want to. I know you NEED to.”

He nods in agreement, then sighs heavily as he stands up; hand on the small of his back, wince on his face.

“Maybe you did throw out your hip,” Yaz chides.

“It’s my back, you fucking drongo. You know it’s been shit since I had to go and save Gaspar’s sorry ass.”

“You took a bullet an inch from your fucking spine,” Yaz reminds him. “You’re lucky to even be walking. Want me to get you a cane? A wheelchair? Want me to carry you? Need me to help fill out the papers for your old age security?”

“I’m hurting, but I can still beat your ass into the middle of the next week.”

“Judging by the show you put on the elevator, I know that’s fact. That was amazing by the way. Good job. Damn good job.”

“Only gets better from here, yeah? Each one will get a little nastier and bloodier.”

“You sound like you’re actually going to enjoy that,” Yaz observes.

He’s smirking as he picks up his dirty clothes and boots, then heads for the door. “I am.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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ave-aria · 5 years ago

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ROTG Hope Week

Happy Easter, everybody! This was written for Hope Week, in response to these darker days we’re going through. Who can’t use a little extra hope?

Day 1: Hope Wordcount: 3,305 Tw: Coronavirus, Covid 19 Pairings: Jack/Bunnymund

Kudos to Chaos Incarnate for giving me the idea for the title. ;)

Can I Offer You A Nice Egg In These Trying Times?

"Whaddya mean, Easter's cancelled?"

Bunnymund's voice rang through the Warren, scattering the herds of unpainted eggs at his feet. Jack, however, remained unmoved. He crouched atop his staff, toes curling into the wood as he stared down at the Easter Bunny before him.

"Hey, it's not my fault," he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Don't shoot the messenger, I'm just letting you know. This Coronavirus is shaping up to be some pretty nasty stuff."

"The—what virus?"

Jack narrowed his eyes at Bunny.

"Coronavirus. Covid-19." He said. "You have been keeping up on the news, haven't you?"

Bunnymund, caught with his head in the ground, sputtered. "Look, I am not the shut-in I used t' be, ok!" which was true; the Guardians had made great strides in getting out of their comfort zones in the past eight years. The attack by Pitch made them all realize how isolated they'd become. But… well. Old habits die hard. "So what if I missed a bulletin or two?"

"Bunny," Jack huffed, exasperated. "It's a worldwide pandemic."

Frustrated, Bunny threw his hands in the air. "It's less than a month till Easter! Whaddya want from me!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "A little less denial would be nice."

Fuming, Bunnymund threw his paintbrush to the ground and stormed towards his tunnels.

Sighing, and deciding to take pity on the Pooka, Jack hopped off his staff and followed him across the grassy field. Eggs parted to let him pass. There were dozens of them, hundreds, all waiting to be painted; more were due to hatch from the Eggplants in waves as the month rolled on. The fruits of long labor. Bunny'd put a lot of work into this year's Easter, like he did every year, and it was a shame to see it all go to waste.

Bunny beelined for the European tunnels, ducking into one that Jack knew well. Bunny always seemed to be using this path. It led to a little suburb in England, the very same place where he'd been walked through on that fateful failed Easter years ago. The Pooka never said as much, but Jack suspected; England and Australia seemed to be Bunnymund's Burgess.

So when the lagomorphs hopped down on all fours and darted out of sight, Jack didn't worry. He knew where Bunny was going.

After a few minutes of picking his way through the tunnels, Jack emerged into cool air and cloudy, overcast skies. The tunnel opened up in the narrow space between two long rows of houses, with a park visible down the road. The ground was clear of snow; Jack hadn't been active here lately, but looking at the green grass springing up between the pavestones, he thought he ought to change that soon.

Bunny, to his surprise, was not darting from bush to bush as usual. When Jack arrived, the Pooka was standing smack dab in the middle of the paved streets, subtlety be damned. He turned in circles, a bewildered look creeping onto his face.

Upon spying Jack, he threw his arms out. "Crikey, Jack, it's a ghost town out here! Where is everybody!"

Jack pointed at the long rows of houses. "Inside," he explained. "…Or they better be."

Bunny did another 360, scanning the streets. It was so empty out here, a tumbleweed wouldn't be out of place. "Mate, this—this seems bad," he admitted at last. "I've never seen this place so quiet."

Jack shook his head. "No kidding. You should see the cities."

Bunnymund froze. "The cities?"

"If you think this place is a ghost town, wait till you see London," Jack said. "Paris, Tokyo, Dubai— Venice is so empty the waterways are clear for the first time in ages."

Bunnymund warily scanned the neighborhood again. The lack of people, mid-day, was eerie. He held perfectly still, holding his breath. His ears pricked forward, waiting for sound, eyes on the empty space - as if he expected someone to jump out and yell "boo!" - but nothing came. Slowly, he took a wary step forward, eyes scanning the streets.

Jack stepped forward, reaching out. "…Bunny," he started.

Bunny's whiskers twitched. "So this Coronavirus," he said. "It caused this?"

Jack held up a hand. "They're self-quarantining, for the most part. To help slow the strain on the hospitals. Practically everything is shutting down, everywhere."

"Must be some virus." Bunny replied. "…Takin' out kids and the elderly, I assume?"

"Mostly the elderly. And people with underlying health conditions. It's like the flu on steroids, with a ridiculous incubation period." Jack drew up to his side.

"How many dead?"

Jack winced. "It's… not clear—"

"Give it to me straight."

"…Over four thousand deaths in Italy so far." Jack said, reluctantly. "And more to come. China's not far behind. The US—well." He shrugged. "With the state of healthcare there? Bound to be ten times worse."

It felt different saying it aloud. Four thousand deaths.

A chill ran down his spine.

Jack cast a worried glance at Bunny. He seemed… withdrawn, and Jack hated that. Good news—if he could just think of good news— "Kids though! They seem largely unaffected, thankfully. Gotta catch some breaks, right?"

Bunny looked at least a little relieved at that. Jack went on. "But—the kids're taking it home and giving it to their parents, their grandparents… a lot of places are talking about closing down schools." He slung his staff over his shoulders. "Which, I might add, is totally unfair. I mean, I drop three feet of snow on Burgess and Jamie's highschool might close for, what, a day? Two at most? And then one little pandemic comes along and completely wipes out my record by a mile."

Bunnymund snorted at that. "You're full of yourself."

"I try."

"So," Bunny said. A pause, and his shoulders slumped. "…No Easter this year."

Looking at Bunny's crestfallen face, knots twisted Jack's gut. "Hey, that was the Pope. He cancelled Easter. But I'm sure your status as the Easter Bunny outweighs his authority."

Not even a smile at the comment. "Quarantining means no egg hunts," Bunny said. His ears drooped further. "No egg hunts means no Easter."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slow. "…Yeah."

They stood silent for a long minute.

"S'not even about the egg hunts, really," Bunnymund said at last. "What worries me is skipping Easter—at a time when the world needs hope the most."

Jack bit his lip. "You could still—I mean, not to bring up North's method, but—pop inside the houses, leave eggs around the house?"

"I already do that, some places," Bunnymund told him. "But if I get the virus on me fur, or me googies, and take 'em inta a clean house—"

Jack sighed. "…Right. Kinda destroys the point of quarantining." He said. Still, he cats about for options, something to lift Bunnymund's spirits. "…Maybe if you disinfect between each place—"

That, oddly, drew a laugh from the Pooka's lips. Bunnymund ruffled Jack's hair, messing it up even worse than it already was. Jack ducked under the noogie, squinting up at Bunny.

"Appreciate it, really," said the Pooka. "But… you're right. Unless somethin' changes, fast, there's - there's just no Easter this year."

Jack straightened, frowning. Giving up wasn't Bunny's MO. He'd thought - he knew the news would hit hard, if he hadn't already caught wind of it, but he thought for sure Bunny would come at this swinging. Maybe try to brainstorm some solutions to the problem, or pull out an unexpected ace hidden up his sleeve.

But just giving up? "Hey now—"

"It's for the best." Bunny cut him off. Apparently it was written all over his face. "In the grand scheme of things - a couple of googies is a small sacrifice to pay fer a safe community."

Jack's frown twisted. Sure but… still.

Bunny gave Jack a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I'm headin' back. Better find somethin' to do with my newfound free time." He added, in a mutter. Turning back to Jack, he asked, "Need a lift anywhere?"

Jack's eyes lingered on Bunny for a long moment. At last, he shook his head.

Bunny's hand dropped from his arm, and it felt like defeat. "Ta, mate," Bunny said, giving a halfhearted salute. In two taps of a paw, a tunnel opened up, and he was gone.

Jack watched him go, wishing, for the life of him, that he could find a way to fix this.

Staring down at the bare earth where the tunnel disappeared, a cold resolve settled in Jack's heart.

He had to find a way to fix this.

—

It was three days and as many consecutive sleepless nights later that Jack came knocking again. The tunnel opened reluctantly, Bunnymund's magic sluggish to match its owners mood, and the rabbit didn't meet him in the field. When Jack arrived, the Pooka was still curled up in his Burrow, slumped at the kitchen chair with a hot tea and sweets littering the table.

"Go 'way," he moaned when Jack's silhouette darkened the doorway. "Let me mourn my holiday in peace." A couple of eggs, unpainted, butted at Bunnymund's heels; the rabbit hadn't had the heart to get rid of them.

Aha, Jack thought, triumphant. Bunny wasn't as satisfied with giving up as he'd pretended to be.

"Pick up your paintbrush and get back to work," Jack told him, eyes gleaming. "Easter's still on."

"Jack," Bunny groaned. "We already talked about this—"

"No egg hunts," Jack flapped a dismissive hand. "We're doing this the old fashioned way."

Bunny sat a bit straighter at that, raising a curious ear. "And what would that be?"

Jack's eyes sparkled, glimmering with hope.

"Baskets," he said, and that was that.

—

Egg hunts hadn't always been the center of the holiday.

In Jack's time, rumor was that if you left a basket - or a hat, upended like a basket - on your doorstep, the Easter Bunny would drop by and fill it to the brim with goodies galore. The practice died out slowly as Bunnymund realized that encouraging folks to go out and seek for the good things in life was a more effective method at garnering Hope; but this year, it was coming back full force.

"Wicker. Ribbons. Paint." Bunnymund dumped another armload of supplies on the grass, and dusted off his paws. "Who's on weaving duty?"

"On it," Jack called, sandwiched between two yetis. He'd all but kidnapped them from North as it became apparent that Bunny's basket production needed to skyrocket, fast. North readily obliged, and even donated some holiday gift baskets he had sitting in the warehouse, unused.

Bunnymund eyed the donated baskets; "…as long as they're not painted red, they'll do."

Over the next few weeks, they emptied Bunny's storage and wove baskets until their fingers fell off. Some were simple affairs, others were elaborate, oversized displays, reserved for houses with large families. In addition to painting eggs, Bunny quickly doubled his output of chocolate, peeps, and hard candies.

Sandy had an eye for basket-arranging, easily assembling multiple at once with the aid of his dreamsand. After Tooth disinfected each finished basket, her Mini fairies carried them off to a cooler and semi-refrigerated room of the Warren that Jack had helped set up. They would remain in isolation until Easter.

They worked at a steady pace, some coming and going, everyone pitching in. When the wicker ran out, Bunny went and found more. North donated plastic baskets as he churned them out. One night, Tooth and Sandy disappeared with a sack of quarters and came back with a truckload of baskets, procured in bulk from closed dollar-tree stores.

"Technically they're paid for!" Tooth insisted when Bunny hemmed and hawed over the gift.

At last, he accepted them. A month was a short time to make millions of baskets, even with everyone helping out. He wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You know," Bunny remarked, a few days before Easter Sunday, as he and Jack wove a handful more baskets to put them over the top. "This just might work."

"Might?" Jack echoed, offended. He flexed his overworked fingers, scowling. "Don't sell this short. Of course it'll work. It's brilliant."

Bunnymund chuckled. "Aye," he said. "But you do realize there's one tiny problem with yer plan?"

Jack paused. "Problem?"

"Quarantine," Bunnymund said. "Most o' these people haven't left their houses in weeks. What makes you think they'll notice the baskets on their doorstep before the eggs start to stink?"

Hm. That was a valid point. Jack set down his half-woven basket and leaned on a hand, thinking.

"We knock," he said at last.

Bunny huffed, amused. "That's your brilliant plan? Knock?" he, too, set his basket down. "Mate, even if it were that simple, I can't. They'd see me."

"Ignoring the fact that being seen isn't as dreadful as you make it out to be," Jack flapped a hand, "I'm not dumb. I wouldn't have you knock." When Bunny cast a confused glance at him, clearly not understanding, Jack said; "I'll have you know I'm a master at ding-dong-ditch."

Bunny studied Jack's face for a long moment, then cracked a smile.

"So you're inviting yourself on my run, huh. You think you can keep up with me?"

Jack laced his fingers and turned his palms outwards, stretching. "I know I can, cottontail. In fact, I'd say I'll knock this one out of the park."

Bunnymund groaned. "No. No puns."

"Hey," Jack laughed. "Hey—knock knock!"

A resigned sigh. "Who's there?"

"Boo," Jack said.

"…Boo who?"

"Why are you crying?" Jack asked. "Easter isn't canceled anymore."

The smile Bunny sent Jack was the most genuine one he'd seen all month.

—

Operation Ring-Every-Doorbell-In-The-World was a go.

"Finished with China," Bunny's voice said through Jack's earbud. "Headin' down to Oz. Catch up, slowpoke!"

"Ohhhh you're dead when I get down there," Jack shot back, flitting from house to house.

So this was a biiit tougher than he thought it'd be. Jack wasn't well-known worldwide yet, so no one had spotted him, and all he had to do was press a button at each station, an easier task than carting whole armfuls of baskets to the surface. He was running into unexpected walls, however, when he realized to truly make this work, he had to ring doorbells in a certain order.

Apartments, Jack decided, were the worst. He had to ring every doorbell in each hall before anyone answered their door; if he didn't, those who'd emerged would realize their neighbors' doorbells were ringing of their own accord. But he couldn't be too quick about it, either, since people exiting their houses en-mass was also, in a way, counterproductive to the quarantine.

But he managed, staying just a step or two behind Bunnymund at all times. Ring and knock; flit to the next target.

Doors opened as he passed, with surprised folks drifting out into the street. He saw dozens of people in pajamas, more who sorely needed haircuts, and a handful who were apparently sitting around their house in Wedding Dresses and Dinosaur Costumes. Quarantine fashion - an interesting trend. The delighted gasps and laughs that echoed in his wake were well enough to spur him on.

They caught their breath over the atlantic ocean, ("Good news! Right now, Greenland's virus-free!") before diving back in to work on the Americas. By the time they hit Alaska, Jack was about ready to drop.

"How do you do this?" Jack wheezed as they drew up to the final house on their stop. Bunnymund was waiting, tweaking the ribbons and eggs that had shifted in transit. "Every year?"

Bunny smirked. "Stamina, mate. It's a marathon, not a race."

"I hate that you're not even winded," Jack groused back.

Satisfied with the presentation, Bunnymund stepped back. "Care to do the honors, mate?" he motioned to the doorbell.

Jack stole an extra minute longer, leaning on his staff for support. Then, with one last deep breath, he raised a hand - no doorbell on this house it seemed - and knocked.

A rustling inside the house. "Mama!" called a young voice inside. "Mama who knocked? Is it the pizza man? Did you order pizza on Easter?!"

Quick as a blink, the two retreated a safe distance back. The front door opened seconds later; a young girl, six years old, stuck her head out.

Her eyes landed on the basket and, all at once, lit up. "Mama!" she screeched in delight. She gathered up the basket—nearly as tall as herself—and waddled back inside, leaving the door hang open. "Mama, he came! You said he wouldn't be here but look, he came!"

"What?" a bewildered voice called from inside the house. Bunnymund and Jack traded a sly look, and a snicker.

The mother stuck her head out of the doorway, glancing this way and that for the culprit. Bunny made sure to flatten his ears and duck down low to avoid detection.

"Huh," said the woman, to herself. "I guess someone in the community is looking out for us after all."

After the door closed, Jack went ahead and dramatically collapsed on the ground before them. "Tell me we're done," he said, though he knew full well they were.

"Righto," Bunny knelt at his side, amusement in his smirk. "Need a lift back t' the Warren?"

"Why would I run to the Warren when I'm perfectly content to die right here?"

Bunnymund chuckled. "Always with the dramas," he said, and scooped Jack up in his arms.

"H-hey!" Jack balked, blushing deeply. "I can walk!"

"Can ye now?"

"Yes!" Jack squirmed out of Bunny's hold and skittered away, then raised his chin defiance. "Though I reserve the right to complain the whole time."

"As ye wish." He tapped twice and summoned a tunnel, motioning Jack in first.

Jack paused at the lip, but just before jumping down, caught Bunnymund staring back at their last house. He turned to look, too, companionable in their silence.

"We did pretty good, huh?" Jack said. "Considering."

Bunny gave a nod. "The world's doing pretty good right now, considering." He remarked. "A couple 'o baskets might not be much, but hopefully, it's something."

"It's the little things," Jack agreed.

"…It really is."

Bunnymund broke his gaze with the house to rest his paw on Jack's shoulder, and this one, in a sharper mirror of the same gesture a month prior, felt like sun on the skin. Bunny smiled at Jack, shining with soft gratitude.

"Thanks fer bein' here, Jack," he said. "Couldn't've done it without ya."

Jack smiled back. "Happy Easter."

Bunny nodded at the tunnel. "Now c'mon," he said, tossing something to Jack which the winter spirit just barely caught; "We've got a disinfecting bath and a nap waitin' fer us in the Warren."

Jack paused, unfolding his hands to inspect what he'd caught: an Easter Egg, painted a vivid blue, speckled with snowflakes and a golden scrawl that read Thank You.

Jack beamed at the egg, holding it gently in his hands, then turned the smile up at Bunny.

Bunny's own grin turned wicked. "—Race ya," he said, diving into the tunnel.

"What!" Jack stiffened, sore muscles seizing. Any protest he might utter fell away at the sound of Bunnymund's bright, ringing laughter.

Pocketing the egg, Jack dove in after him, his center bursting with joy and hope.

#ROTG #Rise of the Guardians #ROTG Hope Week #Hope Week #Jackrabbit #Jackrabbit Week #sorry for the length #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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huntershowl-moving · 5 years ago

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drabble 003: devil-tamer (i.)

it was an unusually warm day when persephone set out for her new mission.

she’d been assigned a simple, long-term seduce and destroy (or sway, but that was unlikely). a chance to prove herself to sanya, prove her place in the unseen as more than just a sharpshooter. she’d climb the ranks and make things better for her and leto, hopefully distracting herself from the sharp and gnawing pain of aya’s absence.

the target was adeodatus damiana. set in stone to be the next lord governor, he was charitable and kind, known for spending time in the low-crime family-oriented district of charhollow. his scruffy look and southern drawl only added to his rustic charm; he walked, talked, and socialized like one of the people in the poor districts he so often frequented because he had come from the poorest of them. it was unprecedented that a man from the slums would rise to a level of wealth and power that he did; starting out as an independent criminal, he’d soon make his name murdering the leaders of gangs higher and higher up the ladder.

kingkiller. in those days, he had been the subject of every week’s times front page. he was a respectable killer, if there was such a thing, managing to dismantle large-scale gangs simply by offing their leaders and moving onto the next. now, he was a rich man with political views that pleased his many loyal fans. duskwall was absolutely enamored. of course, a man like that is bound to make enemies. someone with such tight and lofty ideals especially. how about sanya triskel, leader of the unseen? there’s an enemy to make.

persephone knew it was because he was unlikely to be swayed to their side that sanya was sending her in particular. the plan a was to bring adeodatus into the side of the unseen, to turn him into one of sanya’s many puppets. if he remained a wild card, however, well… the seat of lord governor was far too valuable to hold a wild card. it would be easy enough to kill him if he refused. slit his throat in his sleep or snap his neck when he didn’t expect it – she’d be close enough to blindside him by then, anyway. and no matter how charitable, she didn’t particularly give a damn who she killed. not after aya. very few things felt like they mattered anymore. a gun, a knife, poison – whatever method was necessary. persephone would see it done.

except for her beloved sniper rifle, of course. abra cadaver would remain in leto’s workshop for the duration of this mission, where persephone knew it was safe. he did not know what she was setting out to do. telling him about a job that involved seduction felt … odd, to say the least, and it wasn’t something she was comfortable talking about; besides, there wasn’t much time to do any preparation other than learning everything she could about damiana before it was time to get in position.

the warm breeze fluttered against her skin as persephone sat on a tattered mess of blankets in charhollow, her normal eelskin and carbon-based hull arms replaced with primitive, clunky metal ones. they shot pains through her shoulders. they didn’t feel right, but then – she was playing the part of a poor but brilliant armless girl, a beggar. it was a necessary commitment. persephone had been at this for weeks, and damiana hadn’t yet visited charhollow; she survived on what she could beg for and what she could steal. it was a familiar way of life. she and leto had been expert beggars before they’d joined the unseen. another reason for sanya to send her out rather than anyone else, she supposed.

just as the girl slumped her back against the building behind her little blanket nest, there was a loud clatter as coins dropped into her metal collection cup. a tall, bearded man in a sharply-cut suit stood back up, gazing down at persephone with – not pity, but something else unrecognizable in his eyes. it was unmistakably him. adeodatus damiana. formerly the kingkiller. he was much taller than she had expected. persephone was only twenty-one, but she already towered over most everyone other than her twin, leto. now, she could see even from her position that damiana was even taller than they were. strong, too, his well-cut suit showing off arms that could likely crush a skull if he tried.

his eyes were dark, guarded … but kind, nonetheless. he extended a hand, gaze trailing from her ice-chip eyes to the ends of her cropped black hair, emitting smoke that curled around her pale face.

“what’s your name, darlin’?”

she’d practiced her cover a thousand times. “lethe.” her voice was quiet, just as cagey as his expression. thus begins the dance.

“adeodatus.”

“i know who you are.”

“do you?”

shit. was she not supposed to know? no, she should – charhollow was his turf. lethe straightened her shoulders, the prosthetics groaning and grating against themselves. another hour, another jolt of pain down her back. she masked it well. lethe had experienced worse, after all… much, much worse. nothing could compare to what it felt like for sanya to tear her arms from their sockets, slowly, their eyes burning –

“miss lethe?” damiana was knelt beside her now, his hand resting on one metal wrist. he seemed concerned; had she lapsed into a flashback? “i lost you for a moment, everythin’ alright?”

“ah –” her reply was stilted, a little awkward. “i’m fine. sorry.”

he paused, giving her a sorrowful look, seeming to weigh his options before standing back up. “i’ll be back in just a moment.” he strode off down the road, and lethe raked her hand through her hair so that her fingertips grazed the scalp hard. get it together. you’re on a job. this man is your target, you’re two minutes in and you’re already shutting down? what would sanya say? lethe clapped her palms to her cheeks a couple of times and straightened her posture, tucking her legs under her body so that she didn’t have to worry about her skirt riding up. you’re a beggar, not a harlot. wearing a skirt in the first place was out of persephone’s comfort zone. skirts were a nightmare. she’d never understood how aya could wear them, but then again, aya had looked beautiful ––

no. enough. you are not persephone anymore. you are lethe, you are lethe, you are lethe. a savory smell followed damiana back to her spot, swirling around him like an aura of welcome. it was remarkable how easily he seemed to get along with everyone he passed. they asked after him, smiled at him, and he returned their kindness twofold. his beard was trimmed, but still out of place for brightstone nobility… then again, he came from nothing. adeodatus had grown up an urchin. he’d made his name in crime instead of inheritance.

lethe had to admit, it was a masterful strategy. he had only targeted criminal enterprises, so as to endear himself to their competition and the brightstone elites who wanted to clean up the streets. he’d come from nothing, so the poverty-stricken in crow’s foot would love him. he was kind and charitable, which meant charhollow was his. the only enemies he would have made were dead or scattered because he’d killed their leaders. he was smarter than duskwall gave him credit for. she wasn’t about to underestimate someone like him, disarming personality be damned.

damiana sat next to her, handing her a pie from the delicious-smelling bag he’d brought over. the people of charhollow were notoriously kind to beggars. lethe had already been given what people could spare – pieces of bread, cans of jellied eels, even a goat skewer, once. it was the most warmth she’d ever been shown, and it was all a goddamn act. she was fooling these people. lying to them, stealing from them. with a moment’s hesitation, she took the pie from him. don’t worry, charhollow. if i do this right, you won’t have to see me ever again.

“so, miss lethe,” damiana murmured. “what’s a smart girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

she furrowed her brows, tipping her head a bit in response.

“it’s only,” he continued, “i don’t quite understand how someone so lovely can be a beggar without bein’ swept up by now.”

ah. you’re hitting on me. easy enough. a quiet flush spread across her cheeks, bringing color into her otherwise pallid face. “oh, i don’t –”

“now, i’ll have no self deprecation from you. you’re lovely. anyone ‘round here would say so. and those arms… who designed ‘em?”

someone in the unseen had, but lethe knew them inside and out. “i did.”

damiana leaned back with an approving nod, that hunger in his eyes that meant he wanted to know more. how did an armless beggar design a piece of machinery? he stood up, leaving the bag of food next to her. that was that, then. “until we meet again, miss lethe,” he called as he left, raising a hand in a gentlemanly wave.

adeodatus visited lethe nearly every day after they met. he would bring her food, give her money, ask about her carefully crafted persona’s life: she had been a factory worker’s daughter who took over young for her father when he died, learned everything she knew about engineering from him, lost her arms in an accident and used run-of-the-mill prosthetics to design fully-functioning new ones. these were the third iteration, but they still didn’t quite work right. oh, the factory she and her father had been at? it was the one in coalridge that had been blown up by the lampblacks a couple years back. sorry, she wasn’t sure if anyone who had worked there was still around. every question had an answer. every step in the dance she could match.

finally, after what felt like forever, adeodatus let his guard down. it was starting to get cold, summer sweeping into fall with alarming swiftness. lethe had bought a wool shawl with what money adeodatus had given her, and took to sleeping more often than waking. one chilly suran morning, he came by in a goat-drawn carriage and invited her to his home in brightstone. it was nothing close to sanya’s manor. three stories, larger than most could ever afford, but juxtaposed against their castle it looked like a modest flat. even so. being surrounded by so much wealth still made lethe painfully aware of what she looked and smelled like.

as if he could tell what she was thinking, adeodatus led lethe down a hallway to a large set of doors as a single attendant brought her things to another part of the house. “you can draw yourself a bath here, and freshen up if you like. i’ll be just down that hallway, workin’ on some shippin’ arrangements.” with that, lethe was left alone in a bathroom with hot, running water and a whole set of bottles, sponges, materials for her face and body. after she brushed her teeth, lethe soaked deep into the bathtub, her hair spreading smoke across the surface of the water. it hadn’t grown in months. not since she’d killed aya, after which it had grown nonstop for weeks and weeks as persephone collapsed into grief. now, she was numb. numb enough to feel nothing about the eventuality of killing the most morally sound candidate for lord governorship duskwall had ever seen. she scrubbed her arms with a soft sponge, watching the dirt slough off and cloud the water – feeling the stain of aya’s blood still. that was a stain that would never wash clean. she’d killed her. murdered her. slit her throat and watched the life drain from her eyes, aya, her little bird.

persephone didn’t even realize she was crying until a knock came at the door and her face was wet with saltwater. she dunked underneath, letting its warmth calm the swelling before dragging her hands down her face so that she could open her eyes. the water was so clouded that her body was not visible, and the black smoke from her hair had spread across its surface as it always did across water. “yes?”

“it’s me.” adeodatus’s smooth drawl behind the door.

“ah – come in.” lethe sank to her neck so that the scars marring her collar and shoulder blades were not visible.

hair mussed and tie loosened, adeodatus opened the door, a soft towel over his arm. he eyed the smoke curling out of the surface of the bathtub with mild fascination before setting the towel on a stool next to her. “everythin’ to your likin’, miss lethe?”

“yes, thank you.” you’ll be ours or dead soon.

“good, good. glad to hear it. listen…” he leaned against the counter, regarding lethe with a soft expression. “you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. it’s gettin’ cold, i – i can’t imagine you’d have a fine time out there. my apologies if that seems a touch forward.”

“here...?” lethe couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice, and sank a little lower into the bathtub. “i don’t …”

“i knew it. i’m bein’ unsavory.”

“no, it’s – it’s alright. if it wouldn’t be a bother, that … would be nice,” she murmured in reply, finally looking him in the eye.

surprise lifted his eyebrows, then something warmer colored his face. it was hard to see behind his beard, but it appeared adeodatus was blushing. “not a bother at all, miss lethe.”

“just… lethe. is fine.”

“alright. lethe.” he smiled, genuinely, the expression filling her with warmth. “you can just call me adeo.”

it took almost a month for adeo to completely warm up to her. his emotional walls were up high: he must have lost someone, like the girl buried underneath lethe had. he didn’t want to let her close. they talked, amicably, adeo having his single attendant set up a guest room for her with a bed that didn’t make her back feel like shit in the morning. the servant did not speak the same language as lethe and adeo did. a refugee, he’d explained, who he’d taken under his wing and given work. neither lethe nor the attendant were allowed into the study; its door was closed and locked at all times. until early, wintery volnivet, that is, when lethe came from a bath to find the door wide open.

initially, she was nervous that someone had beaten her to her job and assassinated him in the midst of working. but when she stepped silently through the doorframe, there he was, working intently at his desk. his dark hair was mussed and unstyled from sleep, beard scruffy, shirt open. if they were closer, or if she wasn’t entirely numb inside, lethe might have been genuinely flustered by the sight. the thought prompted her to act the part, though, arms drawing in to cross over her chest. the clinking sound must have set him off – his pen stopped scratching, and he turned to give her an indecipherable look. examining, scrutinizing.

“sorry,” lethe said, “i didn’t mean to intrude.”

“no, that’s alright.” he scraped back his chair, standing, striding over to her. his height still felt … odd. she’d never met anyone who made her feel this small before. “i left it open for you.” his voice was lower now, smooth like honey and husky from sleep, and before lethe could take another breath he was kissing her.

it was not … bad. it was fine. it felt nothing like the fireworks she’d felt when aya had first kissed her, but entirely unremarkable. unremarkable was good. she could work with it, clearheaded, able to act to her fullest extent. lethe forced a hitch in her breath, tipped her head up to kiss him harder. you’ll be ours or dead soon.

#>> DRABBLES.#{ this one's gonna be separated into parts because holy shit it's already gotten long --- and this is only the BEGINNING of this arc. }#{ the title will make sense next drabble i promise }

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kuiqejw · 6 years ago

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MXTX interview(3)

After scanning through this review by @bigbadredpanda, I got inspired to do a translation of the scum villain / tian guan ci fu parts of this interview. Bear in mind that I have yet to read other interviews and stalk MXTX’s weibo, so I may be unaware of other perks.

The first part of the interview is here. I had accidentally posted it to my main blog.

Those that @sakhyu and bcnovels have yet to translate would be spoiler tagged. 4 are spoiler-tagged, don’t bother unless you’ve read beyond the HOB Wind Master Arc.

Q21. [SPOILER] 花城小时候为什么绑着绷带？为何掉下城楼？他为何总是被人欺负又体质非常好？(Why did Hua Cheng have bandages when he was younger? Why did he fall off the city wall? Why was he healthy even though he was beaten up by other people?)

[SPOILER]被打的，他右眼是红瞳，别人觉得很恐怖，脸上很多伤也要遮一下；

有一天他被打得受不了了想自杀，而且他是个戾气很重的凶小孩，听说马上要到祭天游，如果出了事整个国家都要遭殃，特地挑了这一天准备毁掉祭天游，总之就是“老子不幸，老子要你整个国家都陪葬”，这样。结果爬上去第一眼看见未来老婆看傻了，忘了自杀。但是因为太想看清楚一点了，太想靠近了，所以不小心掉了下来。

他就是生命力很顽强啊！跟谢怜一样顽强，百打不死，永远能留着最后一口气，爬起来逆天逆袭。

It was because he was beaten up. His right eye had a red pupil, others thought it was scary, and even though he was beaten up, he still had to hide it.

There was one day, he could not take the beatings any longer and wanted to commit suicide, and despair drooped around him. One day, he heard that there was about to be a festival. If there was an incident, the kingdom would fall into ruin, so he chose this day to wreck the festival. It was a feeling of “Since I’m so unlucky, I want everyone to die along with me”/”I’m taking down everyone with me”. Thus, when he went up to take a look at his future wife, he was stunned and forgot about his suicide attempt. But because he wanted to look a bit closer, he toppled over the city wall.

He’s a tough person to kill! Like Xie Lian, he’s stubborn, and can’t be killed so easily. When he crawls up from despair, it’s akin to having one last breath to wreck everything else behind him!

T/N: Everything is angst about this. Everything!

Q22. 花城为什么对自己颜值没有信心？(Why wasn’t Hua Cheng confident about his own looks?)

因为小时候总被人说丑、怪物，形成了根深蒂固的“我很丑”的印象。后来才慢慢开始怀疑自己“可能长得不错”。但是在最喜欢的人面前，还是会下意识自卑，偶尔又会悄悄怀疑自己是不是丑八怪。

Because he was often criticized as being ugly, or a monster, it deeply implanted a ‘I’m very ugly’ outlook in his mind. He only started to question his looks, but when in front of the person he likes the most, he would still doubt himself, and start to question if he really is as ugly as he thought.

T/N: Your prince doesn’t think so.

Q23. [SPOILER]慕情把花城赶出军营时到底说了什么？(Why did Mu Qing chase him out of the military?)

慕情讲话不就那个样子嘛（。你这种小鬼对太子殿下根本没用，只会拖他的后腿，军队里不需要你这种废物，你不要以为你真的有天赋！之类的。而且因为在军队里这样的少年死亡率的确很高，所以慕情觉得自己赶他出去也有一点没错。

[SPOILER]Mu Qing’s manner of speech is always like this: You’re of no use to his Imperial Highness, you’ll only be a burden on him! The army doesn’t need trash like you, don’t think you have that much talent!

Because young people like the mortal Hua Cheng had a high mortality rate, Mu Qing thought that he did nothing wrong in chasing him out.

T/N: Faced with that, I think I can understand Mu Qing a little more...

Q24. 谢怜为何给自己取“花”姓？(Why did Xie Lian give himself the surname Hua in Halfmoon Kingdom?)

因为他喜欢花，还曾被称为“花冠武神”。以及，在最初的设定中，谢怜被贬时去做过花神，掌花开花谢。

It’s because he likes flowers, and he was often titled the Martial God Crowned with Flowers. Also, in the initial plan, when he was banished, he became a flower god, determining the flowering and wilting of flowers.

Q25. [SPOILER]师青玄是凡人了吗？手脚能恢复吗？如果死后轮回还会是烂命吗？师无渡是不是真的凉了？黑水拿走水师的头做什么？黑水岛上他最后和师青玄说了什么？(Is Shi Qingxuan a mortal? Can his limbs recover? When he reincarnates, will his luck change? Did Shi Wudu freeze? What did Hei Shui do with his head? What were Hei Shui’s final words to Shi Qingxuan?)

[SPOILER] 是凡人。不能恢复，他也不想恢复。天官没有轮回设定。15°凉了。头拿去当祭品。一个字都没说，因为师青玄当时呆滞了，说了也听不懂。

He’s a mortal. He can’t recover, and he doesn’t want to recover. There are no reincarnations for Heavenly Officials. 15 degrees frozen. [This is a pun Shi Wu being a direct homophone for fifteen] Water Master’s head was taken for offerings to the dead. Because Shi Qingxuan was paralysed, even if something was said to him, he wouldn’t understand.

T/N: Press F to pay respects.

Q26. 对于《天官赐福》创作期间剧情结构的争议有什么想法？(What were the thoughts you had about the plot and resulting debates of HOB?)

T/N: This is really long. Hold your horses!

这个其实我很早写过相关的，有的放在JJ的作者有话说里了，有的本来想放在后记，但想了想还是没有放，正好趁这个机会整理一下，一起发出来。

Actually, I had written something similar to my thoughts on this. Some have been placed in the author’s notes (on JJWXC, the original website HOB was posted to), some I wanted to record down but didn’t after thinking, so I’ll take this opportunity to tidy up a bit and air my thoughts.)

讲实话，还是有点无语的，我感觉没有哪个别的作者会有我这种争议。一个作者几本你爱看几本你不爱看，这不是很正常的事么，我喜欢的作者（非耽美）我也不是本本都喜欢的。世界级的大师也不可能保证本本都是世界级名著吧（当然我这不是在脸大自比世界级大师，预警一下不要断章取义）。所以不太理解为啥有人会一本不喜欢就翻脸转黑，或者居然说怀疑我有团队代笔之类的。

To say the truth, I’m still a bit speechless about this. I feel that other authors wouldn’t have as much difficulty about the debates as I did. There are some books that you like and some you don’t from the same author, this is pretty normal. There’s this author I like ( 非耽美 ), and I don’t like every single book she has written. There is no author in the world that can be assured that every book they have written will become a bestseller (I’m not comparing myself with these authors, please don’t quote me to your liking!) So I can’t understand why some people object once they read a book that they don’t like, or even say that I have a team of ghostwriters.

但我发现争议永远都会有。在JJ，只要不是软萌甜文，评论区多半都有点乌云。至今记得我收到第一个负分，就是渣反刚入V时，有个妹子骂冰妹渣攻去死吧（。当时为攻渣不渣吵了几个话题楼，放到今天来看这种规模简直是小猫挠爪子，但当时比较没见识，真的被吓住了。魔道连载初期，我收到的第一个扎心的评论大概是这样的：“你已经耗尽了我的耐心，我不想再容忍你的回忆杀了”，那个时候我才在写第一段云深不知处求学，我心想妹子你这就容忍不了了，那后面你怎么办啊！也有人坦言“感觉大大你这本没什么意思哦，我还是比较喜欢渣反”，这种评论我看了不舒服，但我也不会说什么。到后期评论区人多了，乌云也多了，兵荒马乱，前面那点都觉得没啥了。也是从这里，开始养成了我说不看评论区就不看评论区的好习惯。

But I discovered that there would always be debates. On JJWXC, as long as it’s not a sweet fluffy story, there will always be some clouds hanging over. At least when I remember the first criticism, that is when Scum Villain was first published, there was a fan who told Luo Binghe to go die.

At that time, I wasn’t as mature, so I was really shocked. When GDC/MoDaoZuShi was being published, I received a heart wrenching criticism that went like this: “You’ve already exhausted my patience, I can’t stand all of these flashbacks!” This was when I had just written the first part of the time at Cloud Recesses, when they were all studying together. I was thinking: if you can’t stand this, then how are you going to stand it later?

There was also someone who wrote: “Big sis, this book doesn’t have much meaning, I still prefer Scum Villain!” These reviews are discomforting to me, but I won’t say anything. At the end, there were more people in the debate, more clouds over this novel, it was chaos, I was eventually numb to this. So at this point, I started having the habit of not reading the debates in the reviews corner.

所以你看，其实争议从来没有停止。永远有人不满。以前的争议现在淡去了，就给人一种“从来没有过争议”的错觉。就像总有人喜欢缅怀过去的时光如何美好，时间会加一层滤镜。

So you see, debates have never stopped. There will always be people who are unsatisfied. Previous debates that have become less intense, it gives the feeling that “there has never been a debate”. Like some who think that the past is better, time would give a nostalgic feeling.

写作中出现的困难有什么大不了的，没作者敢说自己写作过程中不会出现困难吧。但是有的作者很聪明，会扬长避短，就写自己最拿手的。这当然很厉害，不过我觉得，还是要不时走出舒适区试探一下的。

No author has dared to say that they have never come across trouble in writing, but there’s nothing wrong in troubles. But there are some authors who are smart, who would write what they are good at. This is very powerful, but I feel that there has to be some attempts at going out of your comfort zone.

既然是探索，就不能保证每一步都走得稳。如果我摔倒了，我自己会爬起来。不能说因为我会摔倒，就不让我走这一步，非逼我另一条路，或者要夺走我自己走路的权力。

Since it’s an investigation, so you can’t be sure that every step you take would be safe. If I fall, I would climb up myself. I can’t say that because I’ll fall, I won’t take this step, I need to take another route, or make this cautious step prevent me from walking on my own.

如果实在不喜欢，其实放手就好，我一贯是希望好聚好散。但有的读者比较奇怪，一定要一边不喜欢，一边逼迫自己读，一边发泄负能量，这何必呢。毕竟，你不喜欢，有别的读者是会真心喜欢的。这样你自己也不舒服，其他读者也不舒服，还会引发掐架，这个时候我就很尴尬。因为人捍卫自己喜欢的东西是人之常情，我不能说拦着读者们不让他们保护自己喜欢的。我很明白自己喜欢的东西被人攻击会有多难过气愤，我心疼这些读者。

If I really don’t like this, letting go is always good. I hope that everyone will break up peacefully. But some readers are a bit strange, they don’t like what they read, they will force themselves to read while complaining about it and wasting their effort. Why do this? You may not like it, but there are other readers who love it. So you will not feel comfortable, so will others, and you get into a fight and I feel embarrassed about it!

People feel protective about what they love, this is perfectly normal and I can’t prevent readers from being protective. I perfectly understand the rage some feel when what they like is being attacked, and thus I worry about it.

可我也尊重读者发表评论的权利，所以对于很多不怎么友好的评论，我从来不会去反驳争辩（除非恶意造谣），有读者反应过激，我还会去劝阻。

However, I respect other readers with their right to disagree, so in debates that turn sour, I will not intervene (unless it’s to stamp a rumor) and I will try to allay those whose reactions are too energetic.

不过这里我还想说说，我可以无视负面评价，但我并不太喜欢所谓的“建议”。

为什么呢，因为写文这事，没写过的人真的就只是纸上谈兵。就像教人写作文，建议人家“用词生动，结构精美”，教人做数学题，建议人家要“举一反三，细心计算”。听上去都没错对吧？但这些都是太笼统抽象的东西，所有人都知道，太空泛了。真的要做到，只有一个办法：自己写。

I would like to speak up about “suggestions”. Why? Because those who have not written before are only good at talking. Like teaching someone how to write a composition, you say to use phrases to invoke feeling and paragraphing to structure your essay. When you answer mathematical questions, the suggestion is to think of alternative methods and be methodical in your working. It sounds good, right? But these are too vague, the space for error is still too wide. If you really want to do it, I have only one suggestion: write it yourself.

而如果“建议”太具体了，比如“这个地方他说话用词应该文雅一点”“这个地方他应该同情而不是漠视”“全部用排比句看起来比较有文采”，这就越界了。

写文是很私人的事，一篇文有无数个读者，但只能有一个作者。大家是看来看作者写文的，不是来看一个傀儡写文的。每个读者心里或多或少都有自己想要看到的东西，如果每个人都对作者提出要求，作者到底该听谁的？为什么只听这个不听其他的？也许你会说要听正确的，但是谁的意见才是正确的？怎么证明他是正确的？阅网文无数的人可太多了。最关键的问题是，到底是谁在写文？表达者是谁？　

And if the suggestion is too general, like this: “This paragraph, the character speaking should be talking with more of a cultural flair”, or “This paragraph, he should be sympathetic rather than apathetic”, “You should use comparisons, this writing technique is better”, this is beyond the scope.

Writing is personal, a story has many readers, but there could only be one writer. Everyone is here to see the author’s story, not something that they suggest. Every reader has his own opinion and what he wants to see, so if everyone suggests what they want to read, who would the author listen to? Why him in particular and not others? Maybe you’ll get something good, but whose opinion is the best? What can determine that he is correct? There are too many people on this website. The most important question is: who is writing this? Who is the one expressing his thoughts?

作者谦虚是好事。但作者的谦虚，意思是作者要多读，多看，多写，自己把握，自己心里有杆秤，再自己去调整和练习就行了。而不是整天根据别人的建议改来改去。这种事别人插不上手。

��及，我不建议随便揣测作者心理。因为大多数都是错的，可揣测者却对自己的想象深信不疑，最后都会偏向恶意。

The author being humble is a good thing. But the author’s humbleness reflects that he needs to read, to examine and to write even more. He needs to practice and edit his own words. It’s not up to everyone else’s suggestions to improve his own writing. Others cannot intervene. I do not suggest trying to guess what the author is thinking at the time. Because the majority of what you think would be wrong, so the guesser would be confident in what he thinks is the right answer, and it would turn out sour.

无论我写什么，都会有人有意见。有人说我太任性了，故意折磨读者，整天写苦大仇深的东西，商业作者就该有商业作者的样子，不许这么任性，要懂得小心翼翼讨好粉丝。同时也有人说我变了，我无脑发糖，就知道讨好粉丝。真的很无奈。要不然，先统一一下意见吧。

No matter what I write, there will be opinions about it. Some have felt that I’m too flighty, I torture the readers, I write things about bitterness and revenge and published authors should have the behavior of published authors, I can’t be this choosy and picky, and I need to pacify the readers. Some have also said that I have changed, and I only know how to appease the fans. I cannot help but think: why don’t you unify your own thoughts on this.

但我也不喜欢评论区吵架。如果双方吵起来，又要被说这个作者粉丝好可怕啊见不得人家说不好，进而发散成粉丝脑残、作者好自大狂妄膨胀了——反正怎么说作者这边都有错，我很吃亏，很被动，所以我衷心请求大家，在评论区看到这样的评论，不要理睬，让它自然沉没就OK，不然越吵越久，打扰的还是大家看文的心情。

But I don’t like arguments in the review corner either. If two parties argue, there will be talk about how the fandom is quite scary, people here can’t agree, fans in this fandom will be braindead, the author is too proud. Whatever happens, the author is always wrong. I will always lose out, so I wish that everyone will not bother with this debate, let it sink and it’ll be ok, don’t argue more and more. All it will do is ruin everyone’s mood upon reading this.

T/N: This is the author’s thoughts about this. There are some parts I have trouble trying to translate because it is so hard for some vocab in Chinese to be directly interpreted. I did my best in this.

Okay. Back to other questions!

Q27. 《天官赐福》计划什么时候修文？(When are you editing HOB?)

其实现在已经开始修了，修好后会统一贴上去并发通知的。但因为这文修起来工程太大，JJ对修文也有很麻烦的限制，不知道会多久，在老四前还是老四后无法保证。还要看三次元和老四的破壳欲了。

Actually, it’s already in the process of editing. Once it has been fully edited, I will publish it as one post and inform everyone. However, as this job is too big, JJWXC has some issues and constraints as well about editing, so I have no idea how long it will take be it before or after the fourth novel is published.

Q28. 《天官赐福》还有哪些番外？(What other HOB extras are there?)

很早就想写个民间故事集，一个一个短小的童话故事，不长。

I want to write something about the mortal realm. A short fable maybe?

T/N: The remaining questions are about the fourth novel and MXTX’s thoughts on CP and such. I will translate them when I have the energy; I think MXTX’s answer to question 26 has killed my mood to translate further.

#tian guan ci fu #天官赐福 #魔道祖师 #mo dao zu shi #scum villain #人渣反派自救系统 #mo xiang tong xiu #墨香铜臭

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dicedumpling · 5 years ago

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[Get your Character’s Natal Chart here]

Chart Data For: Ryuuju Otogi 28 February 1980 at 09:54 (9:54 am) (time zone = UTC -8) Universal Time: 17:54 Las Vegas, Nevada, United States 36°N10' 115°W8' Tropical Zodiac Placidus Houses

Introduction

The following lists positions of planets and points in your natal chart with interpretations for key factors.

Planets and Points in The Signs

Sun in Pisces 9° 18' 13"

The Sun in the chart shows our character, personal identity, and ego. It represents our will to live and our creative life force. Just as the planets revolve around the Sun in our solar system, we derive our life purpose from the Sun in our natal charts. The Sun is our “adult”– the part of us that censors our “inner child,” reasons things out, and makes final decisions. The Sun also gives clues to our overall vitality. The Sun directs us and can be considered “the boss” of our chart.

When people ask you "What's your sign?", Pisces would be your answer. Technically, though, it's your Sun sign that is Pisces, and you're made up of many different sign combinations. Even so, your Sun sign is highly influential and significant, and we're interpreting this factor here.

As the twelfth and last sign of the zodiac, Pisces contains within itself a little experience of all the signs. This gives Pisces Suns the incredible ability to identify with people from all walks of life--from all backgrounds--in some way. Pisceans are not only changeable and adaptable, they have open minds and tremendous understanding. But Pisces itself is often misunderstood. Pisces Suns may spend a good portion of their lives yearning for understanding, and the other part in a state of divine discontent. Suffering is sometimes glamorized in the Piscean world.

Sun in Pisces people are sometimes pegged as wishy-washy, but this is all a matter of opinion. What you will find behind a vaguely directionless manner is a deep, sincere person with real dreams. Their dreams are more than getting that picket fence or making it up the corporate ladder. Pisces are tuned in to a higher purpose and their goals transcend the individual. A deep love for humanity and compassion that knows few bounds is found with this placement of the Sun.

Pisceans are not known to be cutthroat business types, nor are they given to throwing themselves out into the world in an aggressive manner (unless their charts show strong indications of these tendencies). But make no mistake about it, Pisces can be extraordinarily successful when given a chance to express themselves. The arts, marketing, music, teaching, drama, healing arts... these are all fields in which Pisces can find expression. Their imagination, attunement to humanity, and remarkable intuition endow them with enviable gifts of insight and creativity.

Pisces is a sensitive sign--both sensitive to criticism and sensitive to others' feelings. Easily touched by human suffering, at least in theory, Pisces wouldn't hurt a fly. They believe in people, are deeply hurt by compassionless human behavior, and have a hard time saying no. Harsh realities are avoided either through escapist behavior or self-delusion; but every now and again reality does raise its ugly head and hits Pisces over the head. This is a sad time indeed. Pisces retreats into their own world, self-pitying and giving pep talks to themselves ("I will never trust again!"). Rest assured, though, that these periods are rather short-lived and even useful. Pisces seems to derive energy from their (generally short) bouts of self-pity. They come back stronger, with a spring in their step, ready to face the world again, and just as, if not more, compassionate and trusting as they were before. Some might even wonder if Pisces finds pleasure in suffering. Perhaps this is the case for a few, but most of the time, Pisces pulls a lot of creative energy from sadness. Pisces is the poet or artist with angst.

Some find Pisces' tendency to be late for appointments, spaced out behavior, or absent-mindedness amount to irresponsibility. Pisces would be shocked to know this, however. Who me? Pisces wonders. Irresponsible? Pisces Suns absolutely care -- their love knows few bounds -- but their retreats from ordinary life (whether they are as simple as daydreams or actual departures) that they do seem to need are not always understandable to no-nonsense signs, such as Virgo or Aries.

Many Pisces seem almost allergic to things like shopping lists, maps, directions, and instructions, and for some brave souls, even watches -- they prefer to feel their way through life than to follow a solid plan. Of course, Pisces with strong Capricorn, Aries, or Saturn, for example, in their charts will appreciate a guide map, at least.

You are generous, kind, creative, and peace-loving by nature. Your artistic sense is well-developed.

As a Pisces, you are wise, but you seem to retain a certain amount of innocence throughout life that keeps you vital and compassionate. This is because you believe -- in people, in life, in spirit, whatever it is you put your faith in, it keeps you vibrant. People appreciate you for your sense of humor, wordless understanding, and innate kindness.

Pisces vibes with Thursdays, the number 3, the colors aquamarine and variations of blue and green, opals and pearls, emerald, amethyst, silver jewelry, and the metal tin.

Your Sun sign is modified by various factors, including the aspects it makes to other planets and points, its house position, the house with the sign the Sun rules (Leo) on its cusp, and your Neptune and Jupiter signs since Neptune and Jupiter are your planetary rulers. These positions add more layers to the Sun in Pisces interpretation. Pisces is a Mutable Water sign. More on Pisces.

Ascendant in Taurus 28° 37' 12"

The Ascendant defines, in part, the first impression we make on others in a personal rather than professional sense. It represents our physical appearance, our physical bodies and overall health, and the body ego. It can be the mask or costume we wear to greet the world. It reveals our natural and personal defense mechanisms that we use to adapt to - and cope with - our environment. The Ascendant also shows our first impressions of the world around us and our expectations of same –whether we are naturally hesitant or enthusiastic, for example. How we begin new projects and our attitude towards new experiences come under the rule of the Ascendant.

Slow, steady, and capable are adjectives that we can safely attach to individuals born with a Taurus Ascendant. You are likely to possess tremendous stamina and staying power, or, at the very least, you come across as very stable and comfortable. You are often quite loyal to the people you care about, and even to places, objects, and situations. Although you typically don't come on strong, you have a strong personal presence, and you fairly radiate stability. There is also a wonderfully healing and sensual aura surrounding you.

The sign on the Ascendant reveals how individuals start or approach new things and situations. Taurus, by nature, is resistant to change as a Fixed Earth sign. It can be difficult to sway Taurus rising natives –they're often rather stubborn and fixed in their ways. Your first instincts are to feel things out in the realm of the five senses. You have a well-developed sense of smell and touch, and you respond powerfully to the material world. You adopt a practical approach to life, and you are often very methodical. Security is one of your first considerations before undertaking anything new.

You may be very cautious and careful, at least at first or in appearance. With a Fixed sign on your Ascendant, you are definitely NOT known for your flexibility. Rather, you possess determined single-mindedness. You may have been labeled the slow and cautious child in your early years. Sometimes, this placement indicates a childhood in which there was a little too much emphasis on the material world. However, you are likely to have fond memories of your early years unless Venus is very challenged in your chart.

In fact, Venus is your first house ruler, and its position and condition by sign, house, and aspect have a particularly profound impact on your life. The placement of Venus can also influence and color your appearance, mannerisms, and approach to the world around you or new situations. For example, if you have Venus in a Fire sign, you may come across as more assertive or impatient than other people with Taurus rising.

You may very well be a creature of habit. While you are a tolerant person, changes to your routine can be difficult for you to accept. In fact, one of your pet peeves is to be pushed into new situations. People have a hard time getting you to change your mind once it's made up.

More than most, Taurus rising prefers the "good things" in life. Self-indulgence can be a weakness for many with this Ascendant. You may very well be a collector in a significant way -- you place a lot of value on your possessions. More than most, you may want to own your own home or a piece of land, for example. You also thrive on physical touch.

You often avoid atmospheres that are very noisy or chaotic. You come across as quite easygoing, and, for the most part, this is true. However, you do have a breaking point, and once beyond it, you are unlikely to come back.

Security and certainty are tremendously important to you. Perhaps you take your time on new beginnings because once you set out on a course, you rarely stray from it. Stubbornness and persistence can get you places. However, it can sometimes cause interpersonal problems, mainly because people close to you can be tempted to approach you in roundabout ways simply to get their way. If this persists, relationships can become toxic. Aim for more flexibility and place more value on others' honesty and directness than peace and harmony in the moment.

You often prefer to dress in quality clothes with a comfortable feel to them. You are rarely ostentatious in your presentation. Many people with this rising sign have strong and sturdy physiques or the appearance of robustness. You tend to move in a graceful or sensual manner. Many people with your rising sign have beautiful, soothing voices. You radiate contentment and peace. While this endears you to others, at times this can lead you to feel misunderstood. There can be times when you're feeling anxious and off-center, but you rarely appear this way.

Often rather possessive in partnership, those with Taurus rising don't easily break up their relationships, or their routines and habits! Although you are not particularly jealous, you have some tendency to view your partners or friends as your personal property. Intensity and loyalty are especially important to you. You are a highly sensual person, often preferring the comforts that a one-to-one, stable partnership offers. Although you value harmony and calm, your partnerships may be on the passionate side.

You are often very comforting to be around. You radiate a certain stability that is soothing to others, as well as an inner harmony that is attractive. More on Taurus Rising.

Moon in Leo 16° 02' 25"

The Moon in the signs reveals much about our habits, reactions, and instincts. It shows how we express and deal with our emotions. Most obvious in our homes or in private, our Moon sign reveals our innermost needs. The Moon can represent our experience of nurturing; it also shows how we nurture ourselves! It's important to note that Moon signs change every 2 or 2-1/2 days, and on some days, can be one of two signs, in which case an accurate birth time is necessary.

With your Moon in Leo, you are proud, noble, and loving. Your heart is enormous! Depending on other positions in the chart, you may or may not be outgoing, in general, but with this position of the Moon, when you feel comfortable, you do like being the center of attention. That is, you love being in the "spotlight" in the comfort of your own home and with family and friends. You thoroughly enjoy entertaining others, and you often take on the role of comic or leader.

Lunar Leos often feel a need to organize, and even control, their families and friends. They have a secret mission to set things right, and generally like to oversee the goings-on in their little circle. This, or family and friends tend to assign Leo Moon people their unofficial leader or organizer.

This is a very creative position of the Moon. At the very least, you seek or want to create and entertain. You can be lazy at times, and a little bossy, too. You're flexible only up to a point, after which you draw the line. Generally, though, you have a deep need to treat others fairly and justly.

You require lots and lots of love and care to function well in the world. When you feel slighted, you can be dramatic in your emotional displays, whether you choose to brood or hold your head high. When your pride has been hurt, you can be given to big scenes and sulking. This rarely happens in public, however. Lunar Leos are far too concerned about their image to make splashy scenes outside the comfort of their own homes. In public, they prefer to take things in dignified ways. At home, however, they're less inhibited. These scenes generally don't last too long, however.

Lunar Leos are often personally popular folk who are valued for their integrity and strong sense of justice.

You can be very proud, and you're rarely happy to follow orders. Leo is a Fixed sign, and it can be difficult to change your mind or to change up plans on you at the last moment. You need time to adjust to schedule changes! You will go to bat for anyone you love, and you can be fiercely protective of your loved ones.

Generally, it is easy to reason with you, though. Appealing to your well-developed sense of fairness usually works well. You are strongly self-aware and always strive towards self-improvement. You are extraordinarily loyal to people who have proved themselves to you, or perhaps more accurately, who haven't disproved themselves to you! In truth, you expect the best from others and give them the benefit of the doubt until they prove you wrong. The same can be said of life, in general -- first and foremost, you expect the best. You're not blind to adverse situations, but you focus on the positive and strive to remain positive in your expectations and attitude. This is one of the many reasons others love to be around you.

Mercury in Pisces 20° 55' 36" Rx

What's your style of communication? How do you make decisions? How do you pick up, process, absorb, and exchange information? These questions are answered, in part, by Mercury's placement by sign in your natal chart. Someone may be an assertive Aries, but they could also have Mercury in Taurus, with a style of communication that's slower, patient, and not quite as spirited as one would expect from an Aries, as an example. Mercury refines the Sun sign, and it helps to define how we take in--and give out--information.

With Mercury in Pisces, you're a gentle communicator with a soft touch that is pleasing and warm. You may even come across in an almost poetic way. Not given to bother too much with details, you tend to sponge up the feelings and moods of your environment. The information you extract from your surroundings can be unusual and undoubtedly unique. More often than not, it's heavily skewed in the direction of emotion and feeling.

You're usually a lovely listener and, when you get talking, a warm conversationalist. When it comes to communicating, you're moody, and this extends to your texts and emails, too. It's a kind of odd thing -- people never know when you'll be in a quiet mood or a yakking state. You don't compete for airtime, but you can talk up a storm when you're in the right frame of mind. Predicting when that will be can be difficult, though!

With your Mercury in Pisces, you're tactful because you don't want to offend others in any way. You feel out your audience and sometimes search for what you think others want to hear. Yes, Mercury in Pisces can fib. It's not because you're malicious--you just want others to be comfortable.

You may come across as dreamy and indirect. It can be hard to pin you down to any one belief or decision. It's not that you want to drive people crazy or anything--it's just that you take in so much information from the world. As well, your open-mindedness prevents you from taking a stance for too long. You have an unusual aversion to cold facts and hard decisions. Driven more by intuition than facts, you avoid list-making and the like. Others might think you disorganized, but you have an uncanny knack of finding things nonetheless. You tend to skirt detail work or avoid tying up loose ends, not to mention your mind often drifts off to Never-Never Land. Pisces is the escape artist, and since Mercury rules studying and concentration, you are not always living in the moment!

You tune in to all the nuances of subjects and environments. You pick up on subtleties of all kinds, so what you lack in organization you make up for with insight. If your Sun Sign happens to be Aries, much of the brashness and directness of Aries is considerably toned down with Mercury in Pisces. If your Sun sign is Aquarius, you're especially artistic, humane, and whimsical. If your Sun sign is Pisces, well, you're doubling up on the sign, and your creativity and imagination are boundless.

You're often vague and indirect in your communications. If you learn to express yourself with more clarity, you'll find that a lot of the problems you encounter with misunderstandings will lessen. Your sensitive nature can make you an easy target at times. Your plans may seem too dreamy and unrealistic to more practical sorts, lacking the details that make them seem viable or attainable. But your vision is extraordinary, your unusual point of view delightful, and your leaps of faith are admirable.

Favorite expression: "I believe..."

Venus in Aries 21° 58' 46"

How do you attract things, situations, and people into your life? Venus rules our sentiments, what we value, and the pleasure we take in life. Grace, charm, and beauty are all ruled by Venus. Through Venus, we learn about our tastes, preferences, artistic inclinations, and what makes us happy. We look to Venus in the natal chart to see how we approach relationships of the heart, as well as what gives us pleasure. We also turn to Venus to show how we spend our money, the types of gifts we buy, and how much we spend on leisure activities (not to mention the kinds of leisure activities we seek). Venus rules attractiveness--both the ability to attract and attraction to others (and things). Venus rules, amongst other things, the arts, love and romance, beauty and the beautifying process, money, entertainment, leisure, sensuality, and comfort.

With Venus in Aries, you're straightforward in your romantic or social life. You flirt by being up-front, direct, and even daring. You try to win others over by expressing how enterprising and independent you are. Your style of expressing love can be maddeningly "me"-centered, but the right person for you will find this approach charming. People often enjoy your aura of innocent charm, even when you are acting a little childish or impatient.

You're likely to have a fun-loving manner in love. You're turned on by energy and activity. Turn-offs include a relationship that is considered stuffy or too "mature," vagueness, and beating around the bush. In love, you can be hopelessly addicted to the conquest. For a relationship to remain fresh and new, you require plenty of stimulation. You need to see some sparks flying! You're attracted to independent, dynamic people, or that's your own style when in pursuit of something (or someone) you want.

Pleasing you in love involves fueling your need for action. Others should be direct, open, and honest with you since you don't much like game-playing or evasiveness unless it is in the full spirit of fun. They'd do well to feed your need for spontaneity, appreciate your playfulness, and understand your desire for the relationship to remain young and fresh. Venus in Aries likes to take the lead in love (even if your Sun Sign is gentle Pisces). You have many whims, and you thrive on competition.

You don't necessarily take control, but you do instinctively take the lead in matters of the heart. You don't quickly adapt to others' feelings, however. You can be demanding in love, addicted to the chase or the intense passions of the moment. You love spontaneous expressions of affection and sexuality. You're enthusiastic and attractive and possess innocent or straightforward charm. You attract by being direct and not beating around the bush, preferring to get right to the point! Your attractions are quick and sometimes short-lived. You're ardent and often hard to resist! However, you can be a little blunt and abrupt at times.

Venus in Aries Personal Ad Bio: "I have a strong sense of adventure. I will win you over. I'm self-taught and self-sufficient."

With money, you can be an impulse buyer. You're attracted to new and innovative products but would do well to wait a few days before buying because the desire can pass quite quickly. Art that appeals to you is bold and active in tone.

Mars in Virgo 4° 23' 21" Rx

As a productive and busy person, you are goal-oriented and practical. Although you can be a little scattered at times, only because you are doing so many things at any give time, you get things done—quite well! You may have a knack for handling a wide variety of tasks at once, and a tendency to take on perhaps too much at the same time.

Mars in Virgo natives like yourself are usually not particularly aggressive by nature. Although you can be a little hard-nosed and critical at times, you rarely resort to pushing others around. Still, you might be difficult to be around if you are annoyed! Should anyone arouse your anger, you might turn into a bit of a nag. Generally, you don't make yourself a nuisance, however, so this stage is unlikely to last for very long. It is a sensitive position of Mars, however. It doesn't take much to make you nervous.

You are quite protective about your "system" for getting things done. Although rather humble in a general life sense, you can be quite particular about your methods--how you organize your things and accomplish your goals, mostly with work. Yours is nervous energy. Although you have some staying power, you can be restless and are not given to sticking with the same projects for too long.

You may derive plenty of energy and life force from the things you do--your work, hobbies, and any projects you take on. It is a sorry sight, indeed, when you are stuck being idle. Fidgety, nervous, worried...all of these things are a sure sign that you have either too little to do, or far too much on your plate. You are a perfectionist at heart. You'll be the first to deny this, but it's there! You may worry when you are not producing anything, and you worry about whether what you've produced will measure up.

There's often a shy and humble side to you in any area that involves putting yourself out there and letting go (areas ruled by Mars). But experience and knowledge are important to you, and this drive generally wins over your natural reticence. You can be wonderfully organized and ready for most anything that comes your way. People can count on you, and you're often particularly willing to help others out.

Jupiter in Virgo 4° 45' 53" Rx

With Jupiter in Virgo, you attract the most fortune when you are helpful, honest, practical, orderly, and when you pay attention to details. The service industries, nutrition, and health are prosperous avenues for you.

You most value practical and technical knowledge and skills. You are a real problem solver and others appreciate your help. You don't always feel lucky or especially ambitious. Instead, you value hard work.

As an Earth sign Jupiter, you are a practical realist who needs to visualize results to feel motivated to achieve them. You are a “doer” who is not easily lured by get-rich-quick schemes! You are not very much of a risk taker. You need direction, clear goals, and definite plans, and you value tangible results.

Saturn in Virgo 24° 45' 46" Rx

Saturn in our charts shows us where we limit ourselves due to fear or insecurity. With your Saturn in Virgo, you may feel limited or weighed down by work, routine, service, and attention to detail. You may feel overburdened or often left to your own resources, taking on more work than is fair. Finding the meaning or joy in your work, routines, and service is something to strive toward.

You have an excellent eye for details, but you sometimes get lost in them, unsure of your ability to piece everything together. Or, you might leave things unfinished because of a very strong perfectionist streak. If you don't finish it, there is no risk of it being less than perfect! Fear of criticism or of making mistakes can severely limit your opportunities, whether to take on new endeavors or to finish the ones you started. Chances run high that the standards you've set for yourself are too strict. Watch, too, for a tendency to convince yourself that you just don't care to get things right, precise, or accurate since this means avoiding the problem. In all likelihood, deep down, you care too much. Tackling the root of the problem with self-honesty can help you to do less fretting and more living. Digestive problems are often associated with this placement.

Uranus in Scorpio 25° 34' 11"

You're most interested in making changes, innovating, and updating traditions related to intimacy, healing, metaphysics, psychology, transformation, investigation, privacy, dependence, support, the management of resources, and debts. You seek more freedom in or through these areas, and you don't feel much need to conform! You may believe in breaking through some of the inhibitions or taboos related to sexuality, power dynamics, mortality, and self-knowledge. Despite the need for progress, you can be very stubborn and set in your ways in these areas. You may challenge authority or rules and laws in place only if you feel they are limiting our progress, seeking to revolutionize the ways we view our intimate relationships with others and ourselves, or to awaken others to new thinking in these areas. Your intuition is powerful and hunches uncannily on point. You're excited to break new ground when attempting to understand the layers of yourself, a person in your life, or a situation. Research is a talent.

Neptune in Sagittarius 22° 30' 06"

Your vision of an ideal world may center around the truth, tolerance, freedom, liberty, generosity, and intellectual understanding. You may idealize truth, justice, and the power of positive thinking. Your optimism is a breath of fresh air, but may at times be taken so far that you are somewhat blind to the practical side of an endeavor. Or, your goals and ideals are set so high that it can be challenging to reach them. Fantasizing about something better is your escape. Your openness to mystical or alternative interpretations of life is refreshing.

Pluto in Libra 21° 25' 49" Rx

The quest to bring reform or to distinguish yourself through your relationships and connections with others can be so fraught with pressure at times that you have a hard time letting go or feeling content and satisfied with your accomplishments in these areas. The goal should be to feel more personally powerful through your ability to compromise and treat others fairly, not to seek your power from your relationships. You have brilliant insights into people and relationships. You know that improving the world starts with reforming the ways we interact with one another.

Chiron in Taurus 9° 55' 57"

You may very well hold onto guilt for enjoying material things, comfort, luxury, and so forth. In your head, you know you're entitled to spoil yourself from time to time, but it's hard to truly convince yourself of this deep down. You're wonderful at helping others understand that they're worth it, however! Whether you compensate by over- or under-indulging, you're likely holding onto too much guilt. Your needs for security and safety run very deep, and sometimes they work against you if you're not careful.

Black Moon Lilith in Virgo 25° 56' 34"

You may have felt ashamed, off, or wrong about paying special attention to the practical side of life, attention to details, organization, and routines. As a result, you may go to pains to prove you’re not ordinary, worried, eager to please, or concerned about details enough to perfect a craft or project. Leaving many projects unfinished can be a sign of perfectionist expectations – this way, you don’t have to deal with the prospect of not producing something perfect.

North Node in Leo 29° 19' 51"

One theory behind the Nodes of the Moon (the North Node and South Node) suggests that we all come into this world with some underdeveloped and overdeveloped aspects of our character. The Nodes of the Moon point us to these specific qualities: the South Node represents our overdeveloped character traits that we automatically fall back upon. We're talented here, but if we overdo this area of life or hold onto these traits to feel secure, we may undermine our lives or prevent growth. On the other hand, the North Node suggests the qualities that we need to work on and develop to achieve inner balance.

With your True North Node of the Moon in Leo, your South Node is in Aquarius.

A tendency to rely too much on others who may let you down, to come across as impersonal or distant in your dealings with others, to be fearful of being the center of attention and standing out as an individual, to fear taking risks, and to fall back on peers and community at the expense of your own individuality are some of the issues this position suggests. With this influence, you should watch for falling into the easy trap of worrying too much about what others think about you. Instead, you need to strike out along your own individual and creative path. You'd be wise to make a conscious effort to deal with others in a more personal, involved, and loving manner, rather than falling back on reason and intellect which detaches you from your feelings. You might unintentionally alienate others when you over-emphasize equality to the point that we won't acknowledge individuals' uniqueness. You may too often be the audience and not the performer in your life! You may too easily lose touch with your own heart by rationalizing your feelings, and you might become overly involved with other people's problems at the expense of your inner needs for attention. Learning to take personal risks, which requires a certain amount of self-confidence, will help you to achieve inner balance and happiness.

Part of Fortune in Scorpio 5° 21' 23"

You could find that success comes more readily for you when you are using your powers to investigate, dig deep, read between the lines, research, and intuit. In fact, you find joy through these things. You are very perceptive and resourceful. You can be a particularly successful healer, investigator, accountant, psychologist, or agent, among other things. You enjoy inspiring others to understand themselves, to find their courage, to accept their deeper desires, and to embrace their personal truth. You also find joy through transformation and regeneration. Look to the condition of Mars and Pluto for more clues to where and how you might improve your lot in life.

Vertex in Libra 28° 00' 09"

Midheaven in Aquarius 8° 39' 15"

Planets and Points in The Houses

Sun in Eleventh House

The Sun's house position modifies and refines its position by zodiac sign. With the Sun in your eleventh house, you are a humanitarian who aims to treat everyone as equals. You are unique and original, and you do your best to avoid bias and prejudice. Social status is less important to you than belonging to a group of diverse personalities. Your identity, in fact, is somehow linked to a larger unit than yourself. You have high hopes and goals and tend to look at life in terms of opportunities. You have magnetic appeal, as people sense your broad tolerance and openness. The friendships you establish are crucial to your development. If you identify too much with your associations and your friendliness or ability to build bridges, you may become too impersonal and alienate those who would like to get close to you. You are a team player and can have a significant impact on groups and among friends and networks.

Moon in Fourth House

The Moon in the houses can reveal where and how we go about seeking emotional satisfaction. If it's an issue, we can discover vital clues to the reason for perpetual emotional unrest through the study of the house position of the Moon, and these can manifest as constant changes or ups and downs in the areas of life ruled by the house. It is in these areas that we should aim to make deep attachments rather than chase superficial and temporary emotional thrills if we are seeking out a genuine feeling of belonging and emotional fulfillment. It's important to note that house positions are quite sensitive to birth times.

With the Moon in your fourth house, you long for a sense of true belonging, but you may be quite restless in your search. You might change residence frequently or simply feel the need to make many changes in your home. Moving often may be a healthy thing if it keeps you emotionally stimulated. However, if you find that you do so on whims and later regret the changes, you might want to treat it as a symptom of emotional unrest. This is because, with this house position, you could be in an endless search for the perfect mood and setting, when in fact a feeling of belonging should be worked on from the inside out, not the outside in!

While some with this position remain somewhat immature on an emotional level, never wanting to truly grow up and take care of yourself, for most, this is about taking attachments to the past, traditions, or family/home strongly to heart.

With the Moon in the fourth house, you very often feel the need to anchor, ground, or center yourself before feeling fit in other areas of life. You have a powerful sense of home or family, and the drive for security and safety can be behind much of what you do.

This is an excellent position for home business. You can have a strong interest in lineage, history, or collecting. You are likely quite creative and warm. You have strong emotional "feelers," and you need to feel out a situation before trusting it.

Mercury in Eleventh House

You are endlessly curious about people, group interactions, community affairs, trends, and teams, as well as wonderfully open-minded. You are attracted to people who bring new ideas into your experience, and who have something novel to contribute on an intellectual level. You are very forward-looking and fair-minded. Fair play, impartiality, and unselfishness are essential ideals for you. There can be many changes or fluctuations in your personal wishes, dreams, plans, and ideals. You might attract friends who come and go, or who are dishonest or duplicitous if Mercury is challenged here.

You are friendly and an engaging conversationalist, although you tend to go off on many different tangents, rarely following a neat, logical line or train of thought. Sharing ideas with others is vitally important to you. While your ideas can be unconventional, you work well with others or in a team.

These traits are Mercury in the eleventh house in pure form and are modified by Mercury's sign and aspects. [Note that house positions are highly dependent on birth time.]

Venus in Twelfth House

With Venus in the twelfth house, you may enjoy a strong level of privacy or emotional space for you to decompress and get in touch with your feelings. You have a huge imagination and enjoy a rich dreaming and daydreaming inner world. You are quick to help others, but sometimes at your own expense. You can be big on romance, and you tend to live and breathe your partner once you're hooked. Not the best at defining your boundaries — where your needs and a partner's needs separate — you can get hurt in love rather easily.

You are attracted to people from all walks of life, finding a partner who has an unusual background or quirky personality most attractive. Partners who mistake your compassion for weakness can take advantage of you. Being openly affectionate and trusting doesn't always feel comfortable for you. Love and sacrifice often seem to go hand in hand for you.

Mars in Fourth House

You can be fiercely protective of your close friends and family with Mars in your solar fourth house. Anger may be deeply felt and possibly deeply buried, too! As a result, it can be difficult for others to pinpoint your true motives, and you can be considered a real enigma. You can be passive-aggressive in your approach to the outside world when younger, which could lead to resentments if you are not careful--or confident--enough to take a more direct approach to pursuing your desires and expressing your anger. With time and experience, as well as substantial work towards achieving a healthy balance between emotional self-control and expression, you're likely to deal with frustrations in a more empowering way.

Family dynamics are lively and often intense with Mars in the fourth house. You may frequently have arguments with family, about them, or on their behalf! You might attempt to rule the roost on the home front, or you often take on a leadership role at home and with family. In fact, you may be the unofficial leader on the domestic front. Your actions are more often than not governed by your instincts, and you don't appreciate being manipulated or forced into doing something that doesn't come from your gut. You also possess tremendous energy for domestic projects or activities. This is a powerful astrological influence for working from (or on) the home.

Jupiter in Fourth House

With Jupiter in your fourth house, you have strong instincts that guide you, particularly on a professional level. You readily make warm connections with others, particularly valuing your family and close loved ones. Old age is expected to be pleasant and rewarding. Strong morals were reinforced in your childhood. You dream of--and have a good chance of attaining-- a large or spacious home. You likely feel that "happiness is home." You can be a collector of objects of sentimental value, or you take a great interest in history.

Saturn in Fifth House

Uranus in Sixth House

Neptune in Seventh House

You are inclined to give more to a partnership (including marriage) than you take. There may be a tendency to wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to the selection of a partner, in an attempt to find a soulmate. The need for a strong psychic or intuitive link with a partner is so high that your perceptions in partnership are not always accurate. You need to take a step back, consciously attempting to see your partners and relationships for who/what they are, rather than what you wish them to be. You might be attracted to relationships in which you feel a partner needs to be saved somehow, or in which a partner saves you. However, you might end up with people who only serve to confuse you, who are noncommittal or unavailable, or who are overly dependent. You tend to idealize a partner, assigning them traits that you want them to have, or even seeing them as worse than they are due to inflated and dramatic expectations. You need to develop discipline and discrimination when it comes to setting limits, selecting partners, and keeping communication clear in a relationship. In some cases, people with this position give up their power to partners and become dependent upon them. You are likely a creative negotiator, and you can be especially accommodating with others. Positively, you are very talented at bringing out the good in another person, particularly a partner, if that person is appreciative of your efforts and is willing to grow.

NOTE: Since Neptune is very close to the next house cusp, the next item is also relevant.

Neptune in Eighth House

There is a spiritual longing with this position. You might often experience deja vu or other psychic phenomena. You pay attention to dreams, and you might enjoy analyzing them. Sexual fantasies or role-playing can be strong themes in your life. You might yearn for a spiritual form of ecstasy on an intimate level--a soul connection.

You could feel that your needs on this level are always just out of reach. You can be a giver in bed, and perhaps feel that you give more than you get. Alternatively, you could be in the opposite position in which you seek partners who are exceptionally giving on a sexual level. Either way, there is an imbalance, and you could be left wanting. With Neptune in the 8th, it can be especially important to be discriminating when it comes to selecting sexual partners if Neptune is challenged. You may not see your partner clearly because of a deep need for extraordinary or fantastical experiences. There may be times when you give more than you take with money. If a more aggressive personality seems to want something more, you will cut them a better deal. Your shared finances may be chaotic in some way. You may be taken advantage of on a monetary level in partnership, or you might keep poor financial records and end up paying or owing more as a result. There can be a blurring of boundaries when it comes to finances and partnership, whether that means you allow a partner to control your finances or you adopt a "what's mine is yours" philosophy without following up on or enforcing the "what's yours is mine" part. In this way, you may leave yourself open to deception or even fraud. You can be a bit sloppy with accounting. You may have problems collecting inheritance and could encounter difficulties on a financial level through the marital partner.

Over the years, you will likely learn to take more responsibility for your finances and learn to be less timid about taking ownership of what is rightfully yours. You are very creative and imaginative sexually, and you understand and accept a broad range of styles and preferences on a sexual level.

Pluto in Sixth House

You are a hard worker and can be quite protective or private when it comes to your work output. You are excellent at analysis, but you can also easily become obsessed with finding an answer to problems, perhaps even finding problems that others overlook. You "come alive" when presented with a problem that requires research and analysis. Work can become an obsession for you, and you are able to work almost tirelessly. You might be private or insular when it comes to your job, and you might also feel overly attached to what you do even to the point of paranoia. Fear of criticism might run high when it comes to your work output. Directing your own work or working for yourself may be the best route for you to take, as you can easily resent others controlling your schedule and the work that you do. You are likely very interested in areas of health and self-improvement, as well as explorations of the mind-body connection, and you instinctively seek alternative therapies for healing. Some of you are outstanding researchers in these areas.

Chiron in Twelfth House

Black Moon Lilith in Fifth House

North Node in Fourth House

The theory behind the Nodes of the Moon (the North Node and South Node) suggests that we all come into this world with some underdeveloped and overdeveloped aspects of our character. The Nodes of the Moon point us to these specific qualities: the South Node represents our overdeveloped character traits that we automatically fall back upon. We're talented here, but if we overdo this area of life or hold onto these traits to feel secure, we may undermine our lives or prevent growth. On the other hand, the North Node suggests the qualities that we need to work on and develop to achieve inner balance.

With your North Node in the fourth house, your South Node is naturally in the tenth house.

Your path is to, more often, allow yourself to be vulnerable, to open yourself to the possibility of receiving nurture, and to release the need to feel in control and on top of things. You fix problems and take on a management role expertly and quickly--it's second nature to you--but you need to be nurtured from time to time as well. Once you do let others in, your life will improve many times over. Fixing your home life can enhance your career tremendously.

Part of Fortune in Sixth House

Vertex in Sixth House

Aspects

Sun Opposition Mars (orb 4°55')

Sun Opposition Jupiter (orb 4°32')

Sun Sextile Chiron (orb 0°38')

Sun Trine Part of Fortune (orb 3°57')

Moon Trine Venus (orb 5°56')

Mercury Opposition Saturn (orb 3°50')

Mercury Trine Uranus (orb 4°39')

Mercury Square Neptune (orb 1°34')

Mercury Quincunx Pluto (orb 0°30')