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[beskar33]

Learning to Trust Again

art by @/barb8tos | divider by @/chachachannah | reblogs appreciated <3

Scarecrow is visited by a new friend who brings him a gift.

Scarecrow lay in the darkness, curled up into the corner as tightly as he possibly could, cursing his masters for their decisions. Of all the things for us to share, the ability to feel pain is one they had to give… Every part of his body ached, his joints creaking in protest as he shifted, trying to get comfortable under the pile of cushions.

While he certainly was not going to turn down the opportunity to live once again, he certainly had not missed the physical pains that came with life. While his kind were certainly made to be healed at least once, a second time was mostly unheard of, and being brought back from the dead was thought to be impossible… until he found himself back on his home planet with a human ship several hundred feet away.

He shifted again, his neck stiff against the pillow which provided little comfort against the wooden slats. A human shelter would never have been his first choice but he was not going to reject shelter. He was wiser than that. Any shelter was better than no shelter, especially considering the weather patterns of Alpha Centauri had been rainy lately. Rain would not help his body at all.

A noise, shuffling of small feet against dirt. His sensors lit up like explosions, alerting him to a possible threat. Despite his aching body, he was up in an instant, lasers powering up, ready to fight for his newly given life.

“Scarecrow…? It’s me. I wanted to check on you.” The barn door creaked open, Kate’s silhouette bright against the dim atmosphere outside.

He forced himself to relax, powering down his lasers and tucking his upper arms back into their place. He realized his body was shivering and his joints flaring, being reminded of electricity coursing through them. You’re not in danger. You’re fine. She’s not going to hurt you. This mantra repeated in his head over and over again, trying to remind him that this was not a bad human.

He took a moment to force himself to focus on her as she gently closed the door behind her, then approached the ladder that led to his loft. “Can I come up?”

He slowly approached the ledge and peered over, staring down at the human. She stared right back up at him, blinking slowly, waiting for his permission.

He gestured for her to climb, then retreated back to his corner, listening to her footsteps and light humming.

She approached him slowly and carefully. Scarecrow assumed he scared her - he was much bigger and stronger than she was. He could easily rip her to shreds if he wanted to. And yet, despite his assumption, she didn’t seem to actually fear him in any way. Her cautiousness seemed almost… respectful, in a way.

She smiled warmly at him, eyes crinkling, and held out something - he had not noticed it tucked under her arm before.

A blanket.

“I thought you might want this,” she said, still smiling. There - that was a hint of nervousness. His first meeting with her after she had offered the barn to him was similar - that never-disappearing smile, a sign of her not knowing how to handle what she had gotten herself into. 

He craned his neck to get a better look at it - the material seemed soft, dyed a dark red with white symbols scattered across it. The human interpretation of stars, he noted. He stayed where he was, staring at the blanket, then looking up at her. What would I need a blanket for? 

Kate’s smile disappeared, her brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. “I-I’m sorry, I figured the cushions aren’t much protection against the cold. Maybe you don’t even get cold… but something soft might still be a comfort to you.” 

He tilted his head to the side, curiosity getting the better of him, then reached forward slowly. Taking the blanket from her outstretched hand, he felt his claws gently trace along her rough soft fingers as he drew his arm back. Scarecrow held the blanket up in front of his screen, inspecting it further.

A comfort. That was a good word to use for the blanket. He had always been fond of red, and the blanket was a nice shade. While he scoffed at the crudely shaped stars, he still liked the way the white broke up the continuous red and formed a nice pattern. He finally drew the blanket up to his chest and began to knead it, enjoying the feeling of the material under his claw.

Scarecrow glanced back up after a few moments to see Kate smiling again, a much more relaxed smile than before. “I’m glad you like it.” She turned and began to walk toward the ladder, waving to him at the same time. “Let me know if you need anything else, Scarecrow. You know where to find me.” As she began her descent down the ladder, Scarecrow found himself feeling more trustful of a human than he had in a long, long time.

“Thank you,” he rumbled.

Kate paused momentarily, turning back to face him, eyebrows raised. “Well… you’re welcome.” She gave him a small smile before turning back and climbing down the ladder. He listened carefully as she exited the barn, the sound of her footsteps and quiet humming fading into the rain.

Well, she was certainly right about the blanket. He was much more relaxed than he had been in a long time. He began to knead the blanket with both of his lower arms, feeling a rumbling starting up deep in his chest as he enjoyed the texture. 

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, this source of purring isn’t just because of the blanket. An image of Kate smiling warmly at him flitted through his mind, but he quickly squashed that thought back down into the dark recesses of his memories; he certainly wasn’t ready to deal with that whole situation yet. 

He would, in time.

How that would go, he had no clue. But he knew he had her patience, and she had given him all the time in the world to build up his trust.

Soon, perhaps, we can get to know her better, he thought, settling back down into the cushions with the blanket wrapped in his arms. The pattering of rain continued as he was lulled into rest mode, thoughts of Kate’s smile warming him from the inside out.

[beskar33]

people talking about me

[beskar33]

I need him griping and complaining on it

[beskar33]

vinnikolaus

[beskar33]

[beskar33]

psa! your f/o loves you regardless of your sex drive. maybe you fall somewhere on the asexual spectrum (like me!). maybe you're hypersexual, maybe you're sex repulsed, maybe you've got any combination of labels and feelings and circumstances going on- you still mean the world to your f/o <3

[beskar33]

I love you selfshippers who ship with a million anime boys I love you selfshippers who ship with nostalgic cartoon characters I love you old man enjoyers & old woman enthusiasts I love you people who ship with almost insignificant side characters I love you people who ship with well known characters I love you people who ship with obscure characters I love you queer selfshippers I love you self inserts I love you stories that are never shared I love you forever unfinished fanfic drafts

[beskar33]

If you have a f/o with scars or other 'imperfections'..

imagine taking time to let them know how much you love them! Let them know any scars or imperfections they're insecure about doesn't change your love for them

It's their body, and you love them unconditionally, the parts they see as imperfect are perfect to you❤

Pro/comship DNI!! This isn't for u >:(

[beskar33]

Oh to be absolutely buried in the hug of a big, strong F/O~

Nothing but their large arms wrapped around me while I hide from the world. Perfectly nestled in their embrace, breathing in their scent/cologne/body spray/perfume while they stroke my hair or rub my bag.

Save me big, strong F/O hugs...

[beskar33]

dealer’s choice 💖🃏 messy but we finally get to see gambette’s colored sketch yippie!!

[beskar33]

[beskar33]

[beskar33]

[beskar33]

do you ever so vividly imagine your fﾉo, it’s almost as if they were really there . . ?

you envision the curve of their spine, the slope of their shoulders, the contours of their face. 

the memory of their features is seared into the backs of your eyelids, burned into your mind. every detail is ingrained into your memory, from the exact shade of their hair to the precise angle of their nose.

you can recite the length and breadth of their form, the height of their stature, the weight of their limbs. you know the number of freckles on their skin, the width of their eyes, the length of their lashes. 

as you continue to slip deeper into your fantasy, you can hear their voice— you can, yes. the tone and timbre of their speech, the inflections in their words. you can recall their laughter, the sound ringing in your ears, the cadence reverberating in your chest.

you can even smell the faint traces of their perfume, the lingering scent of their shampoo, the heady aroma of their soap.

you can taste the kisses you conjure up in your mind, the sweetness of their lips . . or perhaps their saltiness.

they're there, they are real. you can sense them, you can feel them, you can reach out and touch them. and yet, they aren't, and you can't.

does anyone else feel this way, too . . ? does anyone else know what it's like, to have an imaginary companion, an ethereal lover, a spectral mate . . ?

[beskar33]

thanks everyone for playing in my sand. and implicitly understanding that its my sand

[beskar33]

Literally him

[beskar33]

stimming by holding his face in my hands and tracing his eyebrows and his cheekbones and his jawline

stimming by pressing my face against his, or against his hair or his hands

stimming by following the paths of bones and veins in his arms with my fingers and eyes