#I've learnt to grow on it and accept it

[brokoala-soup]

my healing arc will be the story of me mending my relationship with the colour pink

[pastorpresent]

tw: abuse, eating disorders, mentions of alcoholism

One of Wade's earliest memories was being four years old, sat at the half rotten kitchen table, sobbing hysterically over the food on his plate - all while his parents screamed at each other in the background.

"He needs to fucking learn, we're too poor for his fussy ass to waste food!"

His dad, getting in his mother's face, hands curled into fists as a warning, or a threat.

"I know, but he's not gonna fucking eat otherwise, and you heard that doctor. He's underweight as it is! I've got his chicken nuggets in the freezer-"

A smack, and the reverberating sound didn't even make Wade flinch anymore. He was kicking his tiny feet, trying to lift the fork to his mouth to end all of this, but it's like his body just... couldn't do it.

He was trying to be a good boy. He really was. He didn't want mommy getting hurt because he couldn't be good. It wasn't fair.

"Eat, Wade. Now," and that was definitely a threat, the words growled in his face, and Wade let out a sob as he quickly shoved the forkful past his quivering lips.

"You don't move from this fucking seat until this plate is empty. We clear?"

The grip on his arm hurt, but he knew if he tried to squirm away it would only tighten.

"Y-yes sir," he hiccuped, and his dad smirked, triumphant. As if he'd won, and his tiny self couldn't explain it but it made him feel like crying harder.

It took two hours, and tiny bites, but he finished the meal.

He didn't feel right the rest of the night. It was gone and done, but he felt utterly sick, like he needed the food and the taste out of him, and it didn't matter how many times he scrubbed his teeth with his spongebob toothbrush, up on his tippy-toes to reach the sink, the taste wouldn't fade.

He'd ended up spewing the meal back up a few hours later. He hated throwing up because of how shaky and weak it made him feel, and yet that night? He'd been practically giddy to have the food out of him.

It was the first time, but it wasn't the last. It may of been his earliest memory, but he had hundreds more exactly like it as a kid. Sat at that stupid table. The plate in front of him. Tears in his eyes.

Half the time, he'd just take the beating. At least he could settle after that, and not agonise for hours over the foods presence in his stomach until he was able to get it the fuck out.

He expected to grow out of it, as he hit his teens. He did start actually trying new foods, to usually poor results. His grandmother had scoffed, labeled him 'fussy', her eyes as disapproving as her sons. Wade had accepted the label, wore it with a twinge of embarrassment- because while he was good at not taking himself seriously, it still sucked ass not to be able to order off the adult menu in most restaurants and to turn down completely normal adult snacks because he couldn't stand certain textures or tastes.

He never grew out of it, in the end, but the list of foods he deemed as 'safe' did expand just a little.

It wasn't until he was older and they learnt about neurodivergence in health class that he ever heard a description accurate to his relationship with food. Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder. ARFID.

Wade had scribbled it down in his textbook, and ended up being late home from school that day because he was busy looking it up in the school library.

He could've cried with relief, honestly. A word. A diagnosis, even if he'd never get an official one. He wasn't some unique, one person freak show. It was a disorder. A disorder a lot of people suffered with.

He still struggled, but it was nice to have that layer of understanding.

His mutation made it worse. Changed the texture of his mouth, his tongue, and so things that had once been safe no longer were. He was practically starting from scratch, but he managed.

He got his ramen. His chicken nuggets. His boxed mac and cheese.

It was all fine and dandy and hey - on the plus side, the nutrionless crap he was eating couldn't kill him now! Unless heart disease could beat out regenerative healing, but when he considered how often Logan must've destroyed his liver by now - he figured he'd be fine.

Well, it was all fine until Logan moved in.

Him and Al never really 'cooked". They'd get take out, where Wade could get exactly as he wanted, or if not they didn't really eat together. Al would have whatever she was having, and Wade would knock himself up something of his own, and other than an occasional lighthearted comment about Wade having the dietary choices of a toddler, not much else was said. Al's comments didn't bother him anyway, because he knew they weren't insults. Didn't sting like his father's words.

He did their grocery shop too, so it all worked out fine.

When Logan moved in, he wanted to be helpful. He was struggling to find a job that would take him without a social security number or any form of identification that didn't technically belong to a man everyone knew to be dead. It meant he couldn't contribute to the rent and bills, and Wade knew he felt guilty about that even if he'd told him a million times over that it didn't matter.

He loved having Logan around. He'd pulled him from his own universe to be here. Giving him a roof over his head and sharing his bed while Al took the pullout really wasn't a big deal, and absolutely not something Logan had to repay him for.

He started taking on the domestic duties around the house as a way of payment anyway. The apartment had never been cleaner, that's for sure, and he took Mary Puppins on all of her walks.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Until Wade had came home from work one day and found that Logan had took it upon himself to go stock up on groceries, and cook dinner.

Wade hated how nervous seeing someone standing over a fucking stove made him. He knew a psychiatrist would probably give some dumb spiel about PTSD and unresolved trauma, but Wade just felt like a fucking idiot, freezing up in his own kitchen at the sight of Logan cooking and humming along to their old, shitty radio.

"Hey, how was work?" Logan glanced up from the steaks sizzling in the pan.

Wade needed to get it the fuck together. He couldn't let Logan realise how pathetic he truly was.

"Fine, dull," he replied with a shrug, hanging up his jacket and trying to quell the rising panic, but the smell alone was a lot and he could already feel his body tensing up, his fight or flight kicking in, and he wanted to scream and rip his own skin off because it was so fucking dumb.

"You alright, bub?" Logan asked, pulling Wade from his thoughts.

He nodded.

"Yeah I- need to shower," he excused, figuring it was a good enough reason to dip out and try to get a fucking grip.

"Alright," Logan said, eyebrow raised, "well dinners probably gonna be ready in twenty minutes or so."

Wade nodded, plastering on his best grin, "can't wait, peanut," he said, before quickly rushing out the room.

//

He felt like he was walking into the lions den, entering the kitchen. The shower and ten minute self pep talk did very little to fill him with confidence. Logan and Al were already sat at the table. Mary Puppins waited eagerly at their feet.

"There, the fuckers here. Can we eat now?" Al demanded, and Logan rolled his eyes but he was wearing one of those almost fond smiles, "go ahead."

Wade took his usual seat next to Logan, between him and Al, and picked up his knife and fork, staring down at the plate. Steak, mashed potatoes and green beans.

A normal fucking meal for an adult, and yet Wade felt his stomach tying itself into intricate knots just looking at it.

Al and Logan were chatting about the movie they'd watched last night, but their voices were muffled and distant. He scooped up a tiny bit of the potatoes, shoving it in before he could change his mind, forcing his throat to work and swallow it quickly. He could still taste it, could feel the texture imprinted onto his tastebuds.

He could do this. He could. Just get through one measly meal, and it would be fine. He already knew how strange he came across, and it was an honest to God miracle that Logan had stuck around - what if this was the final straw? Watching Wade waste the perfectly good meal he'd stood and cooked for him in favour of something beige and cooked in the microwave?

If he was going to lose Logan, it would have to be for a hell of a better reason than that.

He kept going, so focused on getting the food down that he missed the worried glances Logan was throwing his way.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of silverware.

"That was delicious. Who knew your dumbass could actually cook a meal?" Al commented, and when Wade looked up both of their plates were clear. He looked back to his own. At the single missing green bean, and pitiful dint in the mashed potatoes. The hardly distinguishable sliver of missing steak.

"I'm two hundred years old, picking up some hobbies here and there becomes a necessity to maintaining sanity," Logan shrugged, smiling, but it didn't feel like it was fully a joke and it only made Wade feel that much more guilty.

"Well, it's Wade's turn for dishes so I'm off to bingo. Don't wait up," Al left the table, barely side stepping Mary Puppins, and Wade could feel Logan's eyes on him now.

He didn't dare meet his gaze, forcing a bite of steak past his lips.

"What's up with you? You not into steak?"

There was no bite behind the words, and yet they made his breathing pick up all the same.

"I- I am, it's- good, honest. Thank you," he said, taking another bite, ignoring his body's protests, suppressing the shiver.

"Wade. Look at me," his head snapped to Logan. He was already in trouble. If he started being bad and not listening, it would hurt more, and he couldn't-

"Hey," Logan's voice was oddly soft when he spoke, but firm enough to get his attention. He reached over, pushed Wade's hands down gently, uncurled his fingers from their white knuckled grip around the cutlery.

Wade watched him do it, utterly confused.

"I'll eat it. I will, I'm trying," he hated the childlike panic that had taken over his brain. He felt like that four year old again, staring at his plate with a wobbling lip and damp eyes.

But he felt helpless to stop it.

"Do you not like it?" Logan asked.

Wade was biting his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, "it's... thank you. For making it for me."

"That's not an answer bub," Logan hummed, "do you like it or no?"

Wade chewed the torn skin of his bottom lip. Shook his head once. Tried to get his body to calm the fuck down.

Logan reached over. Wade flinched, cringing in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for an impact that never came. Instead he just used his thumb to release the lip Wade was using as a chew toy from between his teeth.

"Ok, that's alright. No worries, yeah? You want me to make you some of that ramen stuff you like instead?"

"I- I have food, you cooked me it, I shouldn't..." he trailed off when his throat felt tight.

"And you don't like it, which is completely fine. I'll clean up, you go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some ramen in soon."

"Logan-"

"Wasn't a request, bub. Go pick us a movie to watch," Logan stood, piling up all three plates, and Wade could've cried with relief honestly.

He got up and went to the couch, picking out Shaun of the Dead and sticking it in the pink Hello Kitty DVD player he'd scored years ago at the thrift store. He sat down, but his leg was bouncing like crazy and he couldn't get his eyes to focus.

Logan said it was fine, he reminded himself. He wasn't angry. But what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Make that first hit hurt even harder?

His dad had done that, in the past. Wade never understood why. Boredom, maybe? The same cycle of screaming at him, beating him bloody, rinse and repeat probably got old he supposed.

By the time Logan came over, bowl of noodles in hand, Wade was struggling through a fully fledged panic attack.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I'll- been bad, I'm sorry," he couldn't stop shaking, his breath punched out of him as he curled in on himself, burying his head in his knees which he pulled up tightly to his chest.

'You're a little pussy, no fucking son of mine. Stop hiding, boy!'

"Wade, Wade no. I'm not angry, you didn't do anything bad," he felt the couch dip next to him, and an arm wrapped around his back, pulling him against the solid warmth and familiar scent of Logan.

"I'm sorry," he didn't feel capable of saying anything else, and Logan shushed him softly, reaching out to grasp his hand, "it's fine, really. Look at me, sweetheart."

Wade reluctantly lifted his head, looking over at the older man who's face was filled with a genuine concern.

He hated that. Hated that he was so much of a fucking freak, making Logan worry about him because he couldn't get a damn grip on his own thoughts. He knew comforting people wasn't something that Logan necessarily enjoyed, and it was ridiculous and unfair for him to have to do it over something so small and dumb.

"I-"

"Shhh, just breathe. In and out. Slowly," Logan guided, emphasising his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles around Wade's shoulder.

Wade copied. Eventually, he felt his body relaxing somewhat. He didn't realise he was leaning so heavily against him, eyes slipping closed, until one of Logan's arms wrapped around his waist.

His cheeks burned, but Logan wasn't pushing him off, and there was something soothing about his body heat and listening to the beat of his heart, even if it was muffled by the metal binded to his ribcage.

He wasn't sure how long he lay snuggled into Logan's side, but eventually he felt able to speak a bit more, his throat not so tight and brain not so crowded.

"My dad used to... get mad, if I didn't eat what I was given. Used to beat me for it," he said quietly.

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Wade almost pulled back just to see if he could read his expression. The hand on his waist tightened, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to run patterns over his hip bones.

"Dad's fucking suck. Hell, I killed mine. I wish I could kill yours, for doing that to you."

A sick, deeply twisted part of him wanted Logan to do it. Wanted to watch as his dad squirmed on the floor, covered in blood and bruises, all while he begged for mercy from an angry man who was so much bigger and stronger than him. Poetic justice really, but...

"He's already dead, sadly. Heart attack a few years ago."

"I'd say sorry for your loss, but I'm not," Logan commented, and Wade snorted against him, "yeah, me neither."

The silence returned. Wade hated silence, usually. Would say any dumb shit to fill it. Except it felt kind of... nice, right now. Comfortable. He didn't mind stewing in it for a few minutes.

"You know I'd never..." Logan trailed off, struggling with his words for a moment, which was odd. Wade had never heard him do that.

"I'd never hurt you like that. I know that sounds dumb, given the fact we fought each other a million times in the void, but I wouldn't..." he trailed off again, grunting in frustration.

Wade finally lifted up enough to look at him.

"I know. It's different when we fight, anyway. I'm immortal. You're immortal. I get my own hits in, and I fight dirty. It's a level playing field. With my dad... he started when I was four. I didn't have much of a chance," he shrugged, ignoring the flash of anger on Logan's face at the number, "I kind of like our fights. They keep me on my game, and I know I can't actually hurt you permanently. It's more like..."

"Play fighting?" Logan finished, his tone teasing but Wade knew he was serious, knew it was probably the only accurate word for what they did, "yeah," he grinned, and Logan chuckled.

Silence returned, their gazes locked. Logan's eyes went impossibly soft, "you alright now, bub?"

Wade nodded, leaning into the touch of his hip, bringing his own hand to rest on Logan's chest, "yeah, thank you."

"You want your ramen?" Logan asked softly, hurriedly adding, "if not that's okay, you don't have to. Just don't want you going hungry."

Wade nodded, and separated reluctantly from Logan to grab the bowl. He immediately felt a brief shock of that familiar panic and dread, but forced himself to remember that Logan wasn't mad, hadn't left him, he was right there.

He started eating, and Logan's arm returned to his waist, tugging him back in against his chest so he was situated between the older mans legs.

He looked up with a small smile, but Logan was pointedly watching the TV, even if the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Eating the noodles was easy, and Wade didn't realise how hungry he'd been until it was gone.

"Can I ask you something? You don't gotta answer if you don't want to," Logan asked, taking the empty bowl from his hands and putting it on the coffee table.

"Sure," Wade shrugged, getting comfortable against him.

"It's... safe foods and stuff, right? You can only eat certain things? It's got a name, an annogram... starts with an A, I think?"

Wade sat up fully, brows furrowing as he looked over at Logan.

"ARFID. How do you know about that?" He asked, head tilting to the side. It's not something he had even knew where to start explaining to somebody like Logan. He worried he'd have the same outdated 'kids are just brats these days' kind of outlook on it that his dad did, but he scolded himself for that. Ever since they'd met, Logan had proved his stance on most topics was oddly forward thinking. Wade remembered one particularly impassioned rant about gay rights one night when some old trump clip had played on the news.

He just didn't expect Logan to know what it was at all, nevermind identify the behaviours as such.

"I never taught at the mansion, but I was around a lot. Charles said the kids liked me, for some reason, and I sort of became... not a counsellor, because I'm too fucked up for that, but just someone who the kids knew they could come to. Few of 'em struggled at meal times. Would come see me and I'd make chicken nuggets or whatever they felt able to eat. Sit with them while they did," Logan had that sort of glossy distant look in his eyes, the same one he always seemed to adopt whenever he'd reflect on his past.

Wade felt ready to melt into the damn couch cushions, his love for Logan increasing tenfold. There was a niggling sense of envy, too, just below the surface. He was glad the kids Logan cared for weren't abused for something out of their hands. That they were understood, even if only during their stay at the mansion.

But it didn't stop the jealousy from burning low and ugly inside of him. He never got that, never had an ounce of understanding from anyone. He was punished instead. Not starved, because he was always offered food technically, but in a way...

"I'm glad they had someone like you to support them. I'm sure that meant a lot," Wade said, no jokes, his face serious.

Logan looked away. That look grew more haunted, and he shook his head, "very little consolation considering most of them died because of me in the end."

"Lo, you didn't-"

"I know," Logan interrupted, his face completely unconvinced, "I know you disagree, that's fine. We don't... let's not talk about it again," he said, and Wade didn't want to drop it, wanted to argue until he lost his voice that what those people did wasn't Logan's fault - but it's an argument they'd had a million times over, and he never made any headway.

It always ended with Logan storming out to a bar to get pissed, likely in some dumb effort to prove how 'terrible' he was, and then they wouldn't speak for a few days until they both missed the other's company enough to put the debate and their pride aside.

So as much as Wade wanted to argue his point, he let it be done for now.

"Do need you to do me a favour though, bub."

"Hm?" Wade hummed.

"A list - all your safe foods. Bit pointless me shopping and cooking if I don't know what you can eat," Logan said, and Wade's throat went completely dry.

He'd wrote a list once. Only once. When he was nine, when he'd convinced himself his parents didn't hate him - they just didn't understand, and he could help. He wrote a list in his wobbly handwriting, the foods he liked - the foods he wouldn't need to expel from his body. He'd drew pictures next to each one. He'd gave it to his dad with a smile.

The smile had been slapped off his face. The list had been hung on the fridge, the only piece of his artwork to ever feature there, as a warning to his mother about what not to buy on their grocery trip.

And now here Logan was. Asking for one, so he could make sure he could stock those things, cook them for him.

He all but threw himself against Logan, who merely grunted at the impact, wrapping him easily in a hug while Wade practically squeezed the life out of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled against his neck.

"Don't mention it."

[silveraquamarine]

Ardra Nakshatra moodboard

I created a collection of images that I think convey the core essence of Ardra Nakshatra.

Being an Ardra rising, I feel like the themes associated with this nakshatra have been recurrent in my life often playing out in ways that make it impossible to avoid or escape the destruction and chaos that comes with it.

Knowingly and unknowingly, I manifest chaos and disorder in my life through my own actions. All these disasters happen not just because of outside forces, but also because of me, from within.

Ardra nakshatra is associated with transformation, intensity and emotional depth. I believe the effects of this nakshatra are largely psychological rather than physical. The conscious mind and the feeling heart are continuously challenged by its influence.

The teardrop symbolism represents grief, letting go of pain and cleansing. Through emotional release, healing occurs. The release of pent-up emotions along with surrender and acceptance brings compassion, empathy and understanding. These qualities are inherently pure, and I believe the diamond associated with Ardra signifies the process of cleansing pain to embody qualities that are refined and purposeful.

Ardra brings about deep emotional experiences and my life has not been short of them. Something could happen, seemingly insignificant, but in turn, it creates disorder and subsequently fuels great transformation that is oftentimes painful and emotionally taxing. A lot of tears, crying so heavily that I can't breathe anymore, wishing things were different, trying to find a way out, feeling so lost and lonely and believing that life can't get better again-these are all familiar happenings that I believe are manifestations of Ardra Nakshatra.

Since emotions are involved, there is a sense of restlessness that you feel, along with dynamism and transformative energy in your life. Change is inevitable, and you will find yourself breaking free of old patterns and as a result, reinventing yourself with every step you take. It isn't necessarily easy, but it happens, and you grow through it.

The intense feeling of loss is a significant experience yet so is regeneration. What is created afterwards may not be as beautiful as what was, but the strength and spiritual growth gained after overcoming emotional storms is incredibly comforting. Healing always follows chaos, and you can be sure of it. No matter how much time passes, there comes a point when you are not just numb to the pain, but you've risen above it. After feeling shattered, crying it out, being desperate to be saved and finally feeling peaceful and secure once again, that journey isn't miraculous; it is real, tangible and undeniable.

Tears are my friend; at least they were. Crying is an immensely purifying act. It cleans away all the pent-up emotions that are a burden and brings a lightness that feels tranquil. There is no movement where all the chaos has settled, the conscious mind is no longer racing and everything that prevails is the voice of silence.

One major lesson I learnt through my experience, and one I would attribute to Ardra Nakshatra is resilience. Problems and disruptions are a natural part of life, and I became more adaptable in the face of challenges. Happiness and pain coexist, and I do not fear either. I've overcome pain and surrendered to it. Somewhere along the line, all the painful emotional experiences and the transformation that came with them has led me to a peaceful place, one that I didn't want to find but I had to reach, maybe as fate had it.

The only way out is through.

Here are some beautiful quotes I found online that I think represent Ardra Nakshatra in all its glory.

Our real discoveries come from chaos.

And she embraced the chaos, as it painted her life with purpose.

She conquered her demons and wore her scars like wings.

There wasn't a predictable thing about her, and it was that chaos that made her interesting.

She was chaos and beauty intertwined. A tornado of roses from divine.

Chaos, leave me never.

Keep me wild

and keep me free

so that my brokenness will be,

the only beauty

the world will see.

I wanted to share my personal experience through this post and I tried my best to write it in a way that represents Ardra Nakshatra in an accurate light.

I might have made errors, but I still hope you enjoyed reading this.

🩷

P.S. I don't think I have written such an elaborate essay since high school 🤪 I obviously spent a lot of time overthinking, in pure Ardra fashion. So please know if something in this post is overcomplicated, it's because my overthinking ruined the simplicity and the charm of it. 😭🥲🙈

Also I have my 8th lord Saturn in the 1st house. It is equally transformative and overall a difficult placement in my chart. I believe my personal experience that I talked about here (although I didn't say the details) might have resulted from the combination of these two astrological forces.

P.S. again lol : I spontaneously added the song recommendation because that is how I felt whilst writing this. I always knew that song resonated closely to my personal experience at the time. The song talks about mental health struggles and depression. Since I think the intense emotional upheaval (aka chaos and depression lol) was a direct manifestation of Ardra, the song too fits the themes of the nakshatra to some extent. So I watched the music video of lovely since I haven't watched or listened to it in what feels like a very long time. I'm pleasantly surprised by what I found. There's a storm cloud in the music video and rain flows down which then freezes and disappears. Ardra's ruling deity is the storm god Rudra, his tears are said to have fallen as rain. 🥹⛈️💧⚡️

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

Warning: plant pred/human prey; angst; a character in pain; platonic relationships; healing vore, yet open ended.

I've been haunted by some thoughts on a sci-fi story where a crew of an exploratory space ship includes two best friends: 1) a sentient plant with mimic abilities who works as a paramedic; 2) a tough female warrior rescued from a planet which inhabitants are stuck in their equivalent of our medieval era - her job is to protect her new mates during missions outside of the ship.

The plant is carnivorous and needs to hunt periodically. Yet, it refuses to devour anyone of the crew due to the attachments it has formed and the moral code it has learnt to respect communicating with other races. Also the plant doesn't have a gender, but goes with she/her pronounce, appears as a human girl and calles itself Nova. Meanwhile, Nova's tough friend is Valerik.

One day, when the ship lands on another planet, those who go on the first mission are assaulted by the local tribes. Valerik, shielding a crew member, gets severely wounded. Weak and whimpering, she is brought back on board.

There it's discovered that her body is infected with a very strong poison of unknown origin.

Nova and other doctors try to find the antidote, but, no matter what they do, nothing seems to work. Meanwhile, Valerik has to endure horrible pain violating her entire body; it can be barely blocked by medications. It only grows stronger as days pass by, causing the woman to scream and cry in despair, unable to sleep, or eat, or at least distract herself from the feeling of her bones being tied in knots.

Nova can't watch her dear friend suffer this much anymore. She shows up at the Valerik's door with a risky proposal.

Sometimes plants of Nova's kind can heal other creatures by processing them and keeping the cells alive within while the recipient's immune system is studying the problem and producing the cure. Afterwards, the "prey" gets reconstructed. Yet, there is no way to predict if the outcome will be successful; some plants have been registered consuming the cells they've been assigned to carry for their bodies were powerless to do anything with diseases they faced.

Therefore, if Nova was to "eat" Valerik, the latter might never come back...

Nova explains everything to her friend and asks her if the warrior agrees to try this last solution. The plant admits that she can't give any credits for Valerik recovering soon: the process might take months, or even years to complete. It may not end well at all. However... at least the woman would be saved from pain.

Valerik is deeply touched by her friend's care. Despite the risks, she accepts Nova's offer. The poison would kill her anyway, sooner or later. With that in mind, becoming a part of her friend, temporarily or permanently, doesn't seem to be a bad alternative.

Nova informes the staff about the experiment, then returns to Valerik. The plant shows her true form: long flexible vains coil around the warrior's limp body and gingerly tug it into a huge blue blossom which gently closes around its prey, encapsulating her into a soft live cocoon.

The woman looks around. Sweet honey scent lingers in the chamber. Fluorescent walls soothe her restless mind with gentle shimmering. The woman's form slightly sinks into pliant, warm folds beneath - lying here already eases soreness in her joints...

Yet, suddenly, Valerik's breath hitches in her throat. Admiring the view, she hasn't been paying attention to the thick vains squeezing her legs and torso with more determination than before, firmly holding her in place while smooth flesh of the plant suddenly begins to ooze and ominously sizzle with viscous dark liquid.

Before she starts panicking, a familiar small hand lays on her forehead.

- N-Nova? - Valerik mummbles, stunned, blinking at her friend sitting nearby.

- Yes, darling, it's me. - Nova, her human form coos, stroking the woman's hair. - How are you feeling?

- ...I'm scared. - Valerik confesses, flushing in shame. Her red cheek receives a loving kiss.

- I know... It's OK. I won't hurt you, Valerik. My body will be exceptionally careful; it will make you feel very, very good. Plus, you won't be alone! All the way through, I will be here, with you, talking to you, and you can tell me anything that concerns you, sweetheart.

Soon, slimy juices begin to flood the "stomach"; petals, which looked so fragile and tender from the outside, tighten around the prey with unexpected force.

- Digestion is starting. - Nova replies at Valerik's confused gaze. - I know you've been hurting, badly, but once my acids touch you, your turmoil will end. It's scary, and you want to fight, I get it - and I won't blame you if you try, it's a normal reaction! But... trust me - all I want is to help. Just let go. Let me do this for you.

- I... I believe you, Nova. - Valerik smiles meekly. - I'll try.

Eventually, her muscles relax; the vains loosen their grip too and slide into their invisible gaps. Valerik's clothes swiftly drinks in the juices, making her skin tingle at the contact.

At first, sensation is rather unpleasant - the warrior has to force herself from jerking away. Yet, as the liquid is gradually rubbed into her skin, she notices changes.

The pain is gone. Dissolved into nothing.

Valerik gasps, shoked... then rolls her eyes with a long, satisfied groan.

- Oh, Gods... That's... Incredible!..

Nova barely holds away sobs as she watches Valerik laughing - and turning into formless goo down below. She brings the woman closer to her chest, their hands entwined.

- Thank you so much... - The warrior breathes out, her eyes sparkling with childish joy.

- Your welcome, Valerik... - The plant whispers, affectionately stroking the woman in her hold, eyes never leaving a peaceful face of her precious friend.

Valerik has already fallen asleep, exhausted after a row of insomniac nights, with a wide smile on her pale, bitten lips.

She is numb and relieved, at last.

.......

When Nova is back at work, her colleagues do their best to cheer her up. The plant grins and pretends to be fine. Nevertheless, when no one is looking, her face drops.

She takes off her work robe and looks at herself in the mirror.

Intentionally, she has given her avatar a rounded belly; Valerik is digesting slowly, and Nova wants to be aware of this even while being in disguise. Her hands idly caress the lump - it's still solid and full, and it will remain like this for a good week.

But nothing draws her attention more than her forearms covered in greenish patterns. They are moving and lighting up ever so often, separate tiny dots dancing like fireflies from her elbows to the neck, tangling into complicated shapes and stars of immence beauty.

Those are the cells, Valerik's soul tucked safely beneath Nova's skin where no one and nobody can hurt her again. The plant traces them with remorse on its pretty human face. Nova wishes things would never come this far. Now, she has eaten someone she loves so devotedly...

...Who knows if they ever see each other again?..

The only excuse she finds for herself is the last gleeful smile adorning Valerik's angelic face at her last moments.

In upcoming future, all the plant's body will be covered in swirling lines of cells travelling around in its veins. Sometimes, when Nova's grief will consume her mind, warm green light will embrace her crooked form, as if Valerik was trying to comfort her, reminding Nova she is still around, loyal to their bond.

Nova will never give up on her.

Even if hundreds of years must be taken away, she will still wait for her friend to wake up...

[colebabey888]

Stop Giving A FUCK | The IT GIRL DIARIES

🩷loving myself unconditionally

i learnt to love myself unconditionally, i did this by first accepting my flaws. there was a time that i was someone i didn't like, did things that present me, would be disgusted by, but nonetheless I had to accept that girl that I was before, because it sounds cliché, but without her, I wouldn't be who I am today. So, accept the parts of yourself that you don't/didn't like and then you won't find the need for anyone else to.

🩷comfort in solitary

most people have a hard time being alone and this can actually be a very negative thing, when it comes to growing within and gaining independence. i used to be one of those people. being alone scared the sh!t out of me and this caused me to often mold myself into others perspective of who they wished me to be, just so I could be accepted and not be left alone. because of this, if i lost someone, a friend or a lover, i would break down and become so lost. eventually i grew out of this habit and it changed me entirely. being alone is not a bad thing, in fact, it's a pretty positive attribute to mental growth and stability. learn to be comfortable with yourself, in your own presence. a cliché saying "life is like a book, each chapter comes with different characters, some old and some new". when i began to find comfort in my own solitary, this phrase helped me a lot. everyone in your life is just side characters, no one is permanent. some people might stay and some might leave but the one who always remains, is yourself. be happy with just you. find peace within your own presence. this way, you will accept those who arrive, openly and walk away from those who leave, graciously.

🩷nothing is personal

it's human nature to project. whatever it may be, negativity or positivity, we as humans always project and the amazing about that is, we can choose whether to accept the projection or not. ( nothing other people do or say, is because of you. it's because of themselves - Don Miguel Ruiz ). i often used to take a lot of things personally, from people who didn't even know me personally. which is straight up stupid, because in reality, if someone doesn't know you, it is IMPOSSIBLE for them to judge or have an opinion of you or your character. if someone's insults you, it's not because what they're saying is true, it's because they're projecting their own negative mind. your mind is made up of thoughts you create regarding yourself, the way you see yourself, speak to yourself, is the way you see and speak to others, so in this case, if someone insults you, it's because they hate themselves, not you. you're just a vessel they're trying to pour into because they're too full of hate against themselves already, that they have to begin using others as their negative thoughts keeper. if they don't know you personally, don't take it personally. ( this paragraph is especially important to me and i learned a lot from reading THE FOUR AGREEMENTS By Don Miguel Ruiz and i urge you to do the same if you're struggling with taking things easily to heart )

🩷mistakes are just lessons

i often tend to hold myself accountable for a lot of mistakes I've made in the past. I live with a lot of regret, but as cliché as it may sound, the mistakes you've made in the past are what made you who you are today. In order to grow for the future, you have to accept all the mistakes you've made in the past, this can often be hard at times depending on what mistake it was that you made, but the way to make this easier, is to take your mistakes as lessons. If you do not agree with an action made by yourself from the past, do not repeat it for the future, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation as to when you made that mistake, go about a different route and the outcome will be different. you cannot change the past, all you can do is accept it, for the future.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

www.thedigitaldollar/gumroad.com

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hello, how are you? I think I've already asked for more than 3 imagines haha one of them was of a dancer, I had that idea but I love seeing your writing ;) Could you do a reaction where how Nozel would face the nobility, because he is madly in love with a commoner dancer? 💓

Hiya~!

Yeah; funnily enough I think someone just last week commented in the dancer one that they need part 2 XD Anywho... I hope you like this~

Pairing: Nozel x f!reader (commoner, dancer) Genre: general, romance Fanfic type: Oneshot Length: ~0.6k Contains: Nobles being mean, Nozel putting them in his place, Nozel repenting maybe? He adores his spouse, imply of engagement?

“So… commonly.”

“Improper.”

“Needless.”

“Unbecoming for royalty.”

He had heard all the comments before, even if spoken only in whispers. Hushed tones that were never meant for him to hear.

Or perhaps they were.

One could never really tell with nobility. Even when they were gossiping about royals, such as himself. Because while, usually, they cared too much of their social standing to speak against those higher up, some were cheeky enough to try and steer the actions of others with sharp tongues and ill wishes.

Or then it was perhaps jealousy.

Jealousy over him choosing someone else to stand by him; someone other than them. And a commoner at that.

Not that he really cared.

Because he had made up his mind already years before. That anyone who would be worthy of standing by him, with him; link their arm with his, would be calm and gentle. Someone who could carry the title of a Lady Silva with the dignity and grace that was required.

And such qualities, he had learnt, didn’t rely in birth origin.

For none of these vermin with venomous tongues could ever hold a fraction of your grace to their name.

“Undeserving.”

He stopped. And glared across the hall towards the person who had let it slip.

The one who had dared speak out what they were all thinking.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he spoke with a tone that held coldness of winter’s frost. “Should you wish to keep your tongue,” he continued with the same glare. “And perhaps one ought to ask what that makes of you? As I’ve chosen a commoner to carry the title of Lady Silva. And she was gracious enough to accept. But you deem her unworthy. What does it make of one who is less than unworthy?”

Silence settled into the room.

Jaws were clenched. Tongues were bitten.

He would take it. For now.

But the faces he wouldn’t forget. Though their names had slipped his mind long ago.

Unimportant. He thought to himself.

Because… he too had been, and was, blind to a lot of things in the world. He knew as much. And there was a time when he had overlooked your beauty too, based on only status.

But now… how could he? How could he grow blind to the way you flowed, seemed to dance through life itself. Because while you were a dancer by profession; someone with full of life, it seemed as if it wasn’t only a job. It was also a very essence of your soul. Something that could never be taken from you.

And it was a part of your beauty.

A fraction of your grace.

A part of the entirety that he couldn’t describe if given an eternity and a day. And even then, he felt, the words would fail to do you justice.

Your gentle, kind, loving heart that had granted solace to a sinner such as himself.

Yes… you were someone who he’d shield for as long as he lived. From every threat and sharp tongue. Because … it was all he found to be reasonable.

After all, he was a man with sharp corners and a rigid being. But you were someone soft and kind. Someone who didn’t deserve the cold treatment. So. He would be there, in your corner. Speaking against all those who were blind to your beauty, whenever he wasn’t dancing with you across the dance floor; feeling lighter than air itself.

[kalolasfantasyworld]

Chapters 372 & 373 opinions and analysis

Hello everyone! I'm late to the party, but I promised and simply had to give my opinion on these Silvas chapters in addition to live comments which you can find here.

I'm blaming these on my coloring and an art related to this chapter.

Let me start with saying that these chapters were all I ever wanted and more from Black Clover.

If you follow me you realise that I focus on the Silva family a lot. I actually got into this fandom, because I started writing my fic Paper Hearts, which besides being a steamy and dramatic romance is a story of the Silvas redemption and focuses on Nozel, Nebra and Solid.

I wanted to dive deeper into their characters and show them as more than just assholes, give them some depth and this is exactly what Tabata did in these two chapters.

I'm proudly admitting that my headcanons for Nebra and Solid's reasons for hating Noelle were correct 😁

And on to specific opinions 😉 I'll go per character and at the end summarise them as a four

Noelle

Simply seeing Noelle put up an amazing fight against Acier made me so happy.

"I'm not weak anymore."

Noelle had said long ago and she is correct. Our girl grew, literally spread her wings, broken her cage, threw out the keys I'm citing Song Queen of Kings by Alessandra which I associate with Noelle a lot.

She had shown us her growth and here a bit of inspiration from Asta with the not giving up trope.

Later we can see Noelle continue to care for her siblings during the fight.

The apology scene and Noelle's reaction I will go over below Nebra and Solid's.

Solid and Nebra

We see their povs which I love, finally getting to know what's going on in their heads.

Here we see fear

A painful realisation

The truth

Finally giving them the courage to join in, to help Noelle.

I'm proud of them. I'm so proud of them.

I knew they had it in them and I'm so happy I was right. Just seeing these panels made me want to cry happy tears.

More then that they want a FRESH START. To rebuild their family. Took you guys long enough (in PH this happens faster 😂) but you're finally here.

🥹🥹🥹

Solid and Nebra support Noelle with her powerful magic which is hard to control, something they would make bully her for earlier.

I think Tabata is showing us an amazing contrast, as a show of growth.

Nebra

These two panels finally give us her motivation for mistreating Noelle. Jealousy.

Once again I'm patting myself on the shoulder for having this headcanon.

I'm proud of her to finally admitting that, not only to Noelle but to herself.

Solid

Solid once again jealousy, low confidence.

But he admitted it, admitted his weakness.

Nebra and Solid

They apologised, finally.

Beautiful panel, of which I've seen many beautiful colorings and I might make my own version.

We're not in the Noelle tab, but I wanted to speak about her answer here.

She's not saying "oh it's nothing," neither "yes I forgive you for everything," or "I hate you!"

Noelle simply accepts the fact. They apologised.

This shows so much of her maturity, the peace she made with her situation, life and growth. Noelle is somebody to look up to.

Nozel

Once Nozel was healed by our lovely Pablo and the best girl Kahono he managed to get back and join his siblings. One stubborn bird he is.

This panel I want to focus on, because Nozel is finally GUIDING NOELLE. I wondered many times what would have happened if instead of pushing her away, guided by his guilt and emotional shackles he had guided her. During the fight with Megicula Nozel realised that they needed to grow stronger together. Now he is finally showing it.

Nozel learnt trust.

but also so much more by changing from his sophisticated ever changing style to pure defence, fighting hand in hand, which we had never seen him do before.

Also this quote right here is a perfect reference to when Acier asked Nozel to protect his siblings with her magic. Nozel remembers and uses his mother's words against her.

That's why later we're getting that epic panel with him saying "Isn't it right mother?"

I decided to speak a bit about his armor design and the spell itself.

We're keeping in the Silver spells trope that Nozel has, which I love. We also already saw Nozel "strengthen" his body with mercury during the fight with Kivin, so there were some hints and excited people about Nozel possibly getting an armor as well. This is certainly a hot version, even though he looks a bit like the Silver Surfer (check out this amazing and slightly hilarious art).

Nozel's armor hurts him.

I always head canoned that even though he had some immunity to his magic and with his amazing control he would protect himself, it still very much affected him, brought him pain.

I can talk a bit more about Mercury magic and it's symbolism but this might be for another post if you'd be interested. A short version I'd like to say how it's POISON, symbolising the mental poisoning of Nozel which has been happening since Acier's death.

Here it hurts him, but in a way as he says it will allow him to atone, which will help him rebuild. Clearing mental poison with physical poison.

Nozel had amazing character development and I can proudly say that he is my favorite Black Clover character, with his depth, complexity, resting bird face 😂 and all of the quirks which make him great.

Acier

Acier was strong and I'm glad they showed her this way. We got to see her amazing spells and how if she was to be fought one by one they would probably loose. Acier was one of the strongest and now amped with her paladin powers she needed to be great.

The fact that she got the water attribute didn't impress me, maybe it was to show how she's now like all of her children. At least to me it did not hit hard.

I loved how despite being changed, she continued to talk to her children, point things out. Remember this is not real Acier, more like a shadow of her but I'm glad she was still showing these sides, because Solid and Nebra could say their goodbyes as well.

This panel was everything.

Acier should be satisfied, hey that part of her which is still their loving mother is probably very happy that she used the "common enemy" trope to get them together. Jokes aside she is a great mother, who could see her children surpass her and be proud of them.

Her last words were EVERYTHING.

The siblings know they made their mother proud. They can put behind them the insecurities, everything which has been weighing the family down.

Acier's first death destroyed the family as she left the great legacy, to which none of them felt good enough to live up to.

Acier's second "death" brought her children together.

The Silva siblings

I brought these ending panels together to show you how similar they are. Notice how the siblings are standing at specific spots.

They were finally brought together.

"But you've finally become a family, haven't you?"

Yes and this is the takeaway from these chapters.

Each one of them grew, showed what they were made off and made a step to rebuild, to be a family. I'm proud of them.

Tabata-sensei I'm extremely grateful that you gave my most precious characters the ending they deserved, that you came up with their story and their development. It took time, but it was so worth the wait and I'm glad it was not rushed.

To sum up, these two were my favorite Black Clover chapters and I will reread them many times.

And my coloring at the end I hope you enjoy 💕 The new Dawn for the Silva family.

[honeygrahambitch]

One for sorrow, two for joy

Plot: Will and Hannibal are having a difficult but very needed conversation the day before the birth of their surrogate child.

"Hello." Will said as he sat next to Hannibal on the porch of their house. The sun was casting its final rays before completely hiding before the mountains. "Just so you know, we are not the worst parents on earth because we don't have a name for our kid. I've read many stories where parents just knew exactly when they saw their baby for the first time. And that will be our case as well."

Hannibal had been out there sitting on his own for most of the day, which was exactly why Will had decided to join him with two glasses of white wine. Hannibal accepted his in silence. He didn't say anything to Will's encouraging words.

Will looked properly at his face only when he heard a sniff followed by a deep sigh, filled with sorrow.

He freaked out for a split second, seeing the tears run down his cheeks, knowing it was a rare sight.

"Do you know when we will be the worst parents?" Will asked, guiding Hannibal's head to rest on his shoulder. "When we won't like her first boyfriend. Or her second. Or third. Fuck it, none of them will be good enough. Or when we will say "no" when she will want to go to a promiscuous party. But I promise that when we meet her tomorrow, we will just know exactly what to call her."

Hannibal let out another sniff and Will could actually feel his tears on his shirt. "I thought I knew what name would be perfect for her." He said eventually.

"And I told you I'm down with calling her Mischa if that's what you feel." He replied softly as he let his own head rest on Hannibal's.

"After doing some self-reflection, I realized I don't want that for her. She shouldn't carry my regrets." He said, his gaze following a magpie trying to build a nest in the pine tree which was shading their house. "Every time I would look at her, I would think of my sister." Hannibal said as he let out a soft sob. "I want her to be her own person, not to grow up in the shade of someone else who already carries so much weight."

"What else is on your mind?" Will asked empathetically after a few seconds.

"During the last years I knew that if we had a daughter I would definitely name her Mischa. I figured I would do that only to give myself the delusion of having her next to me again." Hannibal said. "Or maybe I need some sort of closure that I won't get. Truth is, I need to let her go. It's been too long."

"You know, you don't have to let her go. She is not here but she is still your sister. And she will always be. You don't need a physical reminder to get your closure. And we will make sure our daughter knows about her."

Hannibal let out another sob as he buried his face in Will's shoulder.

"There are days when I feel haunted by my own regrets." Hannibal whispered. Will knew. He had learnt to read his every expression and gesture in time.

"I also feel haunted oftentimes. But then you say something stupid like "Will, have you missplaced the corkskrew again?" And all my ghosts are gone."

Hannibal laughed bitterly for the first time that evening.

"I'm sorry, your own nerves must be wrecked as well because of tomorrow." Hannibal said as he lifted his head off Will's shoulder and wiped his tears.

"Pretty wrecked. But seeing my husband weeping tears on the porch is a rare sight. Poetic in fact."

"I'm envious of you." Hannibal said, finally taking a sip from his glass. "You're managing your emotions better than I do."

"Am I? I woke up at 5 and took apart the washing machine piece by piece because yesterday it made a subtle but weird sound. By noon it was in one piece again. Then I reorganized my lures. Then I reorganized all your spices."

"Pardon?" Hannibal asked as he suddenly turned his head towards Will.

"I was surprised you haven't noticed me spending an unusual amount of time in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and labeling spices. Some of them I had no idea what they were so I drew a question mark instead."

"I..." Hannibal started but didn't know what to say, amused by Will's coping methods. "You didn't touch my suits, did you?"

"No, I am not a psychopath. I did want to organize your ties based on warm and color tones. But I decided I wanted to be alive by tomorrow."

Will clinked his glass against Hannibal's and this time, he was the one to rest his head on his shoulder.

"And we are supposed to raise a child." Hannibal said as a conclusion. "Sorry I avoided you the whole day. I was completely unaware you took the whole house apart. You must have had a lot on your mind."

"It's not like you were doing better. But this" Will said gesturing to where they were sitting"-is a lot better than labeling your spices."

"I agree."

The sun was completely gone, a purple shade coloring the horizon. The lonely magpie was soon joined by a second one, who was carrying some straws as well, probably helping with the nest.

[farshootergotme]

2,4,9,15,16, 26 for Dick Grayson?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Not being too specific, his kindness. His willingness to help others, his genuine care for the well-being of the people he saves, the way even without the mask he goes out of his way to help others... It's amazing, and one of the main reasons I love his character so much.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

I haven't really thought about that before, but I think I'd want to see him in Harry Potter just to figure out what house he'd be in. I just can't decide.

Oh! It'd also be cool to see him in ATLA. I don't think I've seen an Avatar AU with him in it yet.

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Well, on one hand he's a great person, responsible and he'd probably be a great roommate. On the other...I really don't want to get blown up.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Canon I've gotta say Dickkory, no doubt. They're the perfect match, so good for each other. They have very complementary personalities and are the ones who've helped the other grow, whether DC will accept that or not. They're both also so sweet when they're together, they deserve that. A true pity DC didn't stick with them like they did with Clark and Lois.

Fanon, I'd have to go with Birdflash. Before I really got into DC I already had a liking for the pairing, and now, having learned more about their relationship in the comics, I can say they're a good pair. However, I don't like the ship to be just romantic. I like the ship when you can still tell they're best friends even if they were to date. I guess it'd be more of a queer-platonic thing with them?

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

I have so many ships that could fill this category, but I'll say Sladick. It just makes me uncomfortable to see them together as a pair, not to mention most of the times I've seen them paired it was portrayed as a toxic or abusive relationship. And it gets even more uncomfortable for me when the ship is between TT 03 Robin and Slade.

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

I have three things:

Funny: That one time he licked a weird substance that was on the ground (which turned out to be heroine). Would love to know where he learnt that from, did he learnt it from Bruce or on his own?

Good: The time when he sang to a child as they slept in his arms. I thought it was such a sweet moment, I can't get over that.

Sad: And finally, when he curled up on the ground when Bruce leaves him alone in the cave, after that moment in which he punches and blames Dick for Jason's death. It broke my heart to see him like that.

Sorry for ending this on a sad note, but thank you for the ask!

[princeloww]

Stuff We Know About Campbell Bain (From Both the Show and the Play)

Since the play has some things that clash/contradict with the show, things I've taken from the SHOW will be marked (S) and the PLAY (P).

- (P) Campbell comes from a small place (Hector calls it "dead wee") called Invergellen, which is in the middle of nowhere. There are not a lot of job options, but there does seem to be some kind of tourism industry - the only job options Campbell can list are "sheep", "fish" and "tourists".

- (P) Campbell's dad lies about where Campbell is, telling people that he's off doing a youth volunteer placement in Africa. He even makes Campbell lie to his friends about it, too. Campbell says it's because he doesn't want anybody in Invergellen finding out. He also says his dad is reluctant to visit too often, out of fear that people will grow suspicious of his trips to Glasgow.

- (P) Campbell has siblings: an older brother and an older sister. His brother owns his own building company, and his sister works in Forestry - possibly for the government? Regardless, Campbell views his siblings as very successful and compares himself to them. He also believes that his dad compares him to them, and calls himself a "loser" who's "never gonnae amount to anything".

- (S) Despite having many past jobs and dreams he was seemingly dead set on achieving, Campbell states that he's never been good at anything other than the radio. He includes flirting with/getting girls in the things he's bad at. He also only learnt guitar to impress said girls, but must have failed pretty miserably based on his comment.

- (S) Before Campbell came to St. Judes, things must have been hard at home/school. Campbell's dad says that his mother is so worked up about the whole thing that she's had to take medicine, and (P) Campbell says that his dad says he "doesn't want to put (Campbell's aunt) through what (Campbell) put (Campbell's dad) through".

- (P) Campbell is excited when his dad is coming, and he is disappointed with him constantly letting him down/not showing up. I believe that Campbell's parents do love him and do TRY to understand him, but simply don't, and end up thinking/acting selfishly instead. They want to help but do not understand their son, and therefore do not give him the support he needs. Whatever Campbell "put them through" was likely due to them not understanding him or knowing how to react to his condition, or the education system and teachers also struggling to understand and accommodate for his needs.

I assume worry was also a big part of what he "put them through", but the line about Campbell's auntie still rubs me the wrong way.

- (S/P) Campbell's dad believes the radio is just another one of Campbell's "loony ideas" and thinks he is manic. Campbell (P) seems disappointed by this, and says he thought he'd be proud of him. Which is just kind of heartbreaking.

- (P) Campbell has to be wrestled by Stuart as he screams at his dad, the doctor and then eventually Stuart, too, to "fuck off". Which is very sad but also kind of funny because Stuart deserves that. This is after he finds out he has to go back to Invergellen (before he then fakes the manic episode).

- (P) Campbell believed he was the greatest comedian in Britain at one point and even went to the BBC in Glasgow to tell them. They were less eager to give him a chance and ended up calling the police on him. He says it's "kind of how" he "ended up" in St. Judes, which adds a bit of an extra layer onto (S) the police being called on him, Fergus and Rosalie when they snuck out.

There's probably, definitely more that I've forgotten to mention, but there's what I've got. There's obviously also the big difference between the show and the play with Perth/Invergellen, which makes some things canon only in the play and others only canon in the show. I'm totally choosing to take Campbell's siblings from the play and accept them as canon all around though,,, and the extra family details we get too.

OK thats all, stay proud loonies

(Sources - Takin' Over the Asylum (TV), Takin' Over the Asylum (official stage play script book))

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 257 (1/2)

Yet another Old World ruin

I finally made it to the outskirts of the facility. Of course it had to be at the top of a concave cliff face. In the rain. From the outside, it looks just like any other compound, though this one is much larger than most, stretching out all the way to the lake shore in stone slabs and rusted towers. Plenty of space for a backup of Gaia to be hiding. The blight grows thick here. The stuff will take root anywhere, spreading exponentially. Swarming. I don't have much time.

It's hard just lying down to sleep at night thinking about how many across the lands might starve in their sleep because I've wasted another day getting nowhere. With every minute that goes by, how many will be attacked by Hephaestus' new and increasingly dangerous machines?

I've learnt to force myself to rest regardless. Delving while exhausted is what robbed me of my equipment in the first place—all those beautiful weapons, armour, fabrics and parts. Damn bandits. I was lucky to escape with my life, but it's served me well enough alone so far. Not many tribes around these parts to trade with. If I ever run into Varga again, she'll be fuming. Even my armour's shield generators have stopped working. I've got a bow and that's about it. All I need, of course, but it's far from powerful.

Down to sleep out of the rain, storms rumbling. The same nightmare I've been having for months. I keep worrying that the next time I have it, Elisabet won't smile at me. One night, upon seeing how little progress I've made and how the world withers around me, she won't be able to muster up a shred of pride. At least I still have her pendant.

When I woke up, I wasn't alone for long. Varl snuck up on me. I almost skewered him. It took me a few seconds to believe he was really there—that, somehow, he'd travelled all this way to find me, following my circuitous route through the wilds. He was wearing the same Nora armour, the same war paint marking him as a Brave. The same smile. Thankfully no bowing or professions of worship to go along with it. He didn't say it plainly, but I gather he felt bad about turning away my explanations when I offered them—his invitation into the mountain, to the truth. He accepted it now, though I tried to warn him off as best I could. At least he came alone.

I gave Varl one of my spare Focuses. I have to admit, I was half hoping to scare him away. To a child, it was a revelation, but I had no strong beliefs back then, no rigid understanding of reality. Varl's faith is everything to him. Even so, he didn't balk as the Focus' signal spread through his brain for the first time and lit up the world around him. He actually seemed...curious. He wanted to learn more. A bit late for that now. There's no time for me to teach him. I had to keep moving and just hope he'd keep up.

We made our way down sheer, split terrain toward the facility. Thick veins of blight choking plants, growing through the corpses of animals.

We came across a few machine carcasses riddled with arrows. A fresh kill. We weren't alone in our delve.

From the facility gates, it looked like the place would have been pretty imposing back in the day. The pattern of the arches looked familiar, but at the time I couldn't place them.

Burrowers patrolled the entrance. I'd seen them around these parts but always at a distance; I was never forced to engage, and while once I might have gone out of my way just for the thrill, I've kept my focus sharp these past months.

Tricky things; fast, whip their tails around like a Stalker. Shoot projectiles like a Watcher, but with a propensity to throw stones. And burrow, obviously. They're small, and easy to take down if caught unaware.

It was nice having a reliable spear at my back after so long fighting alone.

As Varl and I walked through the gates, a voice announced our location: the Far Zenith launch facility. That didn't seem right to me, knowing of Elisabet's view of the organisation. She said she was worried about the world they would create—about Far Zenith playing god—so why would she hand over an advanced terraforming AI like Gaia? I know they dealt technology back and forth, but there was reluctance on either side, based on the correspondence I'd uncovered. As if to confirm this further, the indenti-scan at the gate told me to wait for a security escort. They specifically didn't want Elisabet Sobeck poking around their facilities.

Elisabet's misgivings aside, I hope she gave them a copy of Gaia in the end. Faro's purge order wouldn't have made it to this place, unaffiliated with Zero Dawn, surely.

Further into the ruins, we came to a clearing decimated by a machine attack, leaving pools of acid, burnt corpses, and the wreck of an Oseram camp in its wake. Here were our delvers. As sad as it was to see them killed so brutally, it was a blessing not to have to deal with their politics. They might have thought we were here to steal their spoils. That's happened one too many times over the last few months. Needless to say, I didn't let them turn me away.

The machine attack had caved in the way forward, but Varl spotted a contraption by one of the Oseram. Some sort of grappling device, probably meant for hauling scrap. I repaired it with some other useful parts I found around the camp, improving the gear wheel for a faster cast and pull back, making it better for climbing than cargo hauls. Intuitively, I would have called it a Ropecaster, but seeing as the name was taken and it was more about the leverage it gave than the utility of the rope itself, Pullcaster it was. I didn't put much thought into it at the time. The device worked a treat at dislodging rusted beams from the wall, and we were onward.

In an open courtyard further in, a projection of the same man from reception introduced himself as Osvald Dalgaard. I recognised the name from an old datapoint I found all the way back in Sunfall. He gave an interview talking about Far Zenith and how amazing they were. Actually, he used the word 'sexy'. Looks like he was the public face of the anonymous organisation.

The Pullcaster made climbing a breeze. More than it usually is for me, anyway. I had to slow down to clear a path for Varl. Annoying; suboptimal, but I was glad to hear what happened to everyone else after the battle at the Alight. The party raged on in Meridian for days, so I successfully avoided that, and there was a major stir once everyone realised I was gone. It probably only helped feed their legends though. Sona took the other Nora back to the Sacred Lands—those few who survived Hades. She argued against Varl's departure, but understood the honour in his pursuit—to assist the Annointed of All Mother in her sacred task, or something. I hope the tribe is faring better now, beginning to heal. With the blight and the storms and the derangement, it's unlikely.

Further on was another presentation from Dalgaad, this time a lot flashier. He talked about the Odyssey, the derelict space station purchased by Far Zenith to be renovated as their 'generation ship'. There was meant to be a colony in the Sirius system, something Far Zenith had been planning long before the Faro plague. He talked about reaching out, the next step for humanity in spreading to new worlds. I guess they really thought it would work. Maybe it could have, if the apocalypse hadn't rushed them through.

A little more traversal, and Dalgaad was there to greet us once again. A different tone this time, addressing prospective members rather than investors. Gone was his optimistic pitch: the end of the world was inevitable. One way or another, the planet was going down, and those wealthy and influential enough to buy themselves a place on the Odyssey and fund its completion would not be going down with it. No wonder Elisabet didn't want to work with them, but with their resources, it would have been foolish to refuse.

Even Varl, who still didn't know what a planet was, got the message. These people were not to be idolised, despite their power. Maybe even because of it.

We pushed on past more of the Oserams' equipment and makeshift tunnels. They made the way for us, but the machines that attacked them were still at large. We caught glimpses of one curling away from a clearing, clinging to the wall. A huge, writhing cylinder of metal.

A storm grew angry red out the window. I scoured all the data I could, discovering more about Far Zenith. One of note, a report from Dalgaard to the 'High Council' on public relations. From his genuflecting language and their grand titles, it seemed like the leaders of Far Zenith saw themselves as nothing short of royalty, even deific.

Another projection, this time a summary of 'Project Anzu'. Turns out my hunch was correct. Zero Dawn never intended to hand over a copy of Gaia to Far Zenith. They stole it, implanting an agent into the project as a beta candidate, a hacker called Hank Shaw who worked under Travis Tate on the Hades protocol. Smuggling data right under the nose of Travis Tate...either Hank was brave as a Behemoth or incredibly stupid.

Part of their devious presentation were images of Elisabet, identi-scan footage, right there for Varl to see. The truth, or an abbreviation of it, was unavoidable. There was no easy way to tell him what I really was, where I really came from: metal, forbidden, tainted, all that crap. Nice to see you again Varl, I'm an identical copy of an ancient scientist created by a machine. I almost managed to quell his shock, deep-brewing disgust, fear—but I could see it there below the surface. I told him what Gaia was too, what she'd made me to do, but he took it all wrong, tried to shove it into his worldview. More talk of sacred quests, goddesses, bullshit. He'll understand, in time.

Another long stretch of terrain ahead. The presentation said the stolen copy of Gaia was stored in their auxiliary data centre. It was across the ship yard, filled with the carcasses of shuttles and planes. I just hoped that the copy they had on the Odyssey when it blew up still existed as an original down below.

Many more Burrowers and Scroungers stood between us and the data centre. Scroungers are like mean Scrappers. Hephaestus thought they weren't enough of a nuisance already, I suppose. Plenty more acid-doused Oseram along the way, and the far off rumblings of the machines that did them in.

Reaching the top of a rusting overlook, we found our mechanical culprits. Three Slitherfangs. I should have known, but I've only ever seen parts salvaged from their carcasses, heard whispers of their power. They were snapping at the scrap of old fuel canisters underneath the tottering body of a space shuttle, held by struggling cables above them. Provided their scavenging kept them occupied, that shuttle would crush them all if loosed. Varl suggested going back to a settlement to gather a war party, but I shut that down—we don't have the time. Besides, the tribes around these parts are already struggling to feed themselves from poisoned crops. I doubt they have strong hunters to spare. I don't need them dying by my hand. If I fail, it will be my failure alone, and all the world will pay for it.

I slipped away from Varl, hoping he would listen this time and stay put. I still had a lot of ground to cover, and the sun was sinking into afternoon.

[palettepainter]

I'm still feeling very unmotivated to draw or write at the moment. Honestly I'm not even sure what I want to write here. I want to draw and create something but have no drive to make anything new or work on any existing wips I have. It's difficult to remain upbeat and push out content when I feel this pressure to try and act like an adult when I have what are perceived as ''childish'' interests, it's definitely lead to a lot of self loathing especially since I turned 18

It's scary to think you don't have the skills required to make it as an adult and earn yourself a living, especially with how the economy is currently with house pricing and general costs for other daily things (shopping, petrol, car insurance, road tax, taxes in general, etc). It's even scarier for me as someone who is neurodivergent and suffers with anxiety, I accepted a long time ago that trying to survive in a world that is constantly moving and refuses to slow down will be difficult for someone like me, and having learnt only a month ago that my parents even believe I won't move out is...unbelievably upsetting

It's only further rooted my belief of how I simply won't be able to cut it, and that even now I don't cut it as an adult, and that my parents think the same

This has caused me to grow hatred towards my own projects, namely including Hired Sparky which is currently the biggest project I've been working on. So I think for the time being at least, Hired Sparky and other writing/drawing ideas both new and started will have to be put on hold. I don't know how long, I just know that for now I'm not in the best mood to be working on them, and putting them on hold will at least ease up the stress a little

[lyleiris]

Memories flying in the air

Whirring around my hair

Getting stuck in my finger tips

Clinging onto hope and peaceful times

I'm running through the years

With Memories close by my side

Whispering all the wisdom and lessons I've learnt through the years of being sixteen and twenty six.

Forgiving the parts of me I have since buried. Grasping onto the hope of new beginnings.

Memories fade but this smile doesn't.

I'm learning to grow and accept parts of me that I once dispised.

[theodosiani]

I've only just learnt about vhen and I'm already deadly (pun intended but do not perceive me) curious, tell me more about them please and thank

Character Questions! || Always Accepting || @mercysought

I’ve only had Vhenatish’an for like a week but if anything happened to them I’d kill—

What’s funny is that Vhenatish’an actually came about from two separate ideas I had some time ago. One of them was Ghilan’nain inventing drow in Thedas and the other was the concept for an ancient elf who was formed from a spirit of regret.

And you might say “sawyer, aren’t the sharlock/shrieks the thedosian drows?” And I say not really. They’re more Tolkien orcs than d&d drow, more a rage virus zombie than sentient elf offshoot with a society based upon the patronage of a malevolent mother goddess. So I made my own.

The other thing is that it’s very funny as someone who writes Ghilan’nain(and sometimes Andruil), I have a very hard time getting in the headspace of non-evanuris ancient elves but I love the concept of a new spirit shunted into personhood. I might still write Regret at some point but a lot of my desire to write the body horror of an unwanted mortal form has been rolled into Vhenatish’an.

Ghilan’nain probably starts crafting the Blight Elves after D’meta’s Crossing but doesn’t craft Vhenatish’an specifically until after Weissaupt when she loses Razikale. She uses the project as a way to stave off grief and Elgar’nan likely encourages anything that keeps her mostly emotionally functioning so it’s a harmless, even potentially beneficial side project for her to work on while mostly confined to their base now that she’s mortal.

Ghilan’nain’s choice in spirit and name are reflective of her faith in Elgar’nan’s vision of a future for the Evanuris’ New Empire. Vhen “the people” and Atish’an “peace” symbolically coming together as “A new peace for the people” as she sees a class of elves not just infected with the blight but in part made from it being Ghilan’nain’s attempt at channeling an almost Mythal-like role as Mother to the new elvhen empire. Finding a Spirit of Hope for the first of the blight elves is equally as much a deliberate choice for the myth making she is certain will come from this period of their conquest.

The problem, however, is that dragging a spirit of hope against their will from the fade to shove into a body made from blighted flesh and lyrium does not a Hope Spirit keep. Worse still, the Spirit of Hope rejected multiple bodies, Ghilan’nain repeatedly rebinding them each time and dragging them back to try a new vessel where they would feel said vessel die around them. The process eroded the manifestation of Hope into a Spirit of pure Dread. Finally, attached to a body so thoroughly that even death would only make the vessel a tomb Vhenatish’an becomes the First of the Banalhan’len and thus the eldest of Ghilan’nain’s children.

They are largely confused and horrified by this, knowing very little of the waking world and less of the monstrous being who calls herself their Mamae. It is a word that means love and horror and control. Every aspect of this existence they did not ask for brings new feelings of unease, steadily growing until water leaks from their uneven eyes. They learn this is called ‘crying’ and it very quickly becomes a reoccurring effect of the unending anxiety that fills their days, though they learn to hold the feeling in when Mamae is around.

[drawingdroid]

The Unknown Regions IV

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

This chapter is rated +18! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut; the bucket stays on; naked female clothed male; hurt and comfort; Sad Din :(

Word count: 3,745

A/N: Din and you have a misunderstanding and actually talk openly about it like ADULTS! I love fiction!!! Finally, smut is here dear readers, I hope you enjoy it. I've struggled like crazy to write this chapter bc smut felt forced and I wanted a smoooth transition. I am not super happy with the result, but hey, I need to know when to let go. I've been thinking this would be interesting from Din's pov too, lemme know what you think. And yes, I know I don't respond to any comments I love reading them but anxiety kills me when I hit reply! I'm so sorry!!!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

You were so focused on your calculations that you didn't notice Din observing you. Leaning against the doorframe casually, the bounty hunter had his gaze fixated on you. He was stealthy for such a big man, so when his gloved hand gently touched your shoulder your heart skipped a beat.

“¡Mando!” You jumped from your seat. He immediately retrieved his touch as if he had been burnt.

“Sorry I…I didn't want to startle you.”

He looked so uncomfortable right now you felt bad for him. Well, had seemed uncomfortable around you for the two weeks you had been travelling together, so that wasn’t new. You were sure your presence around the ship had prevented him from relaxing at all. It was normal, its size had you clashing with each other all the time and it didn’t provide any privacy. And the Razor Crest, you have learnt, was also his home. Well, his and Grogu's.

He told you about the little one a night he was being especially silent. The moon you had stopped at looked inhabited and arid. He commented it was similar to Arvala-7, the planet where he found the child. After that, you listened while he spoke about how he met his son. His beautiful voice was full of pain and you ended up offering your hand for relief and support. He was hesitant but ended up accepting your warm touch.

Since then, casual physical contact had been a constant between you. With the days passing, you grew bolder with it, no longer squishing yourself to prevent your bodies from touching in the tight space of the Crest, and more like rubbing your plush body against his armour. A friendly hand on his shoulder, his on the small of your back. Therere were brief moments that made your heart flutter at the contact.

The truth was that living together had only made your initial attraction to him grow: observing such a mighty warrior performing the little tasks of day-to-day life was somewhat endearing. The things you could learn about someone just by looking at them at their little routines were incredible. You realized he was a methodical, goal-oriented man, and although he looked serious he did things like speaking with his ship when you wouldn't notice. He was also very caring, not only about Grogu but also his covert, the name he used to refer to the other Mandalorians he lived among. And he had the highest respect for his culture and his creed, something you really admired about him. Every day, you hoped he admired you back, too.

“Don’t worry about it, I tend to become so self-absorbed when I work I forget my surroundings.” You fidgeted nervously with your hair, feeling the burn of his gaze, until his visor shifted to the nav system. “Oh, I calculated the coordinates for the final jump and double-checked them. It’ll take around 30 standard hours to arrive there.” 

Since you were travelling towards uncharted space, you couldn’t just jump to the planet, even though you knew the coordinates it was reckless without knowing the obstacles you could possibly meet, so it was more sensible to do it on shorter jumps.

“Let me check.” Mando leaned towards the console, supporting himself in his strong arms. You hoped your gasp at his sudden closeness wasn’t too audible.

“Are you doubting my calculations?” You meant to sound sassy but your voice came shaky. He was too close, hovering over you while checking the route. If your body wasn’t covered due to the cold of outer space, he could have noticed the goosebumps his proximity provoked.

“You can't drive a ship.” He deadpanned. You didn't feel bad about his affirmation, it was a fact. You had never had the opportunity to learn.

“I know my numbers, Mando.” You retorted, confident in your ability. He stared at you while you tried to remain unbothered. The truth was that the banter and his physical closeness had you a little flushed.  His gaze finally left you to resume checking the panel and you rolled your eyes, although you understood his doubts. After all, his child and his ship were at stake 

“This is flawless.” He admitted after a while, turning his helmet to you again.”Good job.” You opened your eyes widely at the praise and observed his muscular frame towering over you. His beskar looked beautiful, reflecting the starry space. He looked beautiful.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can.” You responded in a small voice, swallowing hard. 

Neither of you moved for a while and you sighed involuntarily.  With how close you were, you could just lean on him as you had been longing to do. To be embraced by his big arms. He sighed, his visor not leaving your frame. You wondered if he felt the pull too. He had to. The magnetic field was just too strong.

“Mando…” He shifted his position, coming even closer to you. You could observe your doe-eyed reflection in his Beskar helmet. He raised his gloved hand and reached for your round shoulder again. This time his touch was gentler than ever and his orange thumb caressed your clothed skin. Mouth dry, you wondered what would his next step be.

“I need…my seat to make the jump.” 

The spell broke. Your brain was not computing. You swore you could die right there from the embarrassment. Of course, you were sitting on the pilot's chair. He only wanted your fat ass to move. And you thought you were having a moment. What an idiot, fantasizing about embracing him or whatever, when he only wanted to resume the trip to get to his son as soon as possible.

Clumsily, you stood up, your face hot with embarrassment. Inevitably, your bodies rubbed in the tiny space. You were a big woman, he was practically on you and the cockpit wasn’t precisely ample.

“Of course.” 

The feeling was all-consuming and you rushed towards the sliding door, abandoning the cockpit in a heartbeat. You couldn’t see how a very confused Mando observed you leaving, asking himself how he had offended you.

Tears of embarrassment stained your cheeks when you managed to curl inside the bunk. Mando had been so kind to let you sleep there, and you had been loving it. The first night you couldn't help yourself and used your fingers to make you cum three times. His masculine fragrance was everywhere. It was like being embraced by him and your imagination was an overactive one. 

But now, having his scent kriffing everywhere wasn’t helping to deflect the feeling of rejection that had taken you. Why were you being like this? Of course, it wasn’t the first time you were turned down. Or the tenth. By now, you should be used to it. But nevertheless, it hurt a lot. 

All your life, you were always the clever, bright friend. The daughter who didn’t cause trouble. The gentle and caring one. But you were never called beautiful. Even by your romantic partners. They may say things about how they loved your “fat ass” or “big tits” but this didn’t make you feel pretty but just objectified, and especially, not truly seen as a sentient being. The worst of your male companions even complained about your size and how they weren’t able to manhandle you as they would have done with a smaller woman. You knew this was rooted in their deepest insecurities and how being perceived as smaller than their partner affected their self-esteem... But what about yours?

The truth was that Mando’s gesture (or lack of it) hadn’t been so hurtful, but the stream of memories it triggered, and now you found yourself sobbing under his sheets. When you felt the familiar blow of entering hyperspace, you only hoped that he remained in the cockpit and let you hide for the rest of the trip. But he didn’t.

First, you heard the familiar footsteps coming down from the ladder. He cleared his throat and then knocked softly at the bunk's door. Your blood froze.

“Hey I'm…I'm sorry.” You could clearly hear these weren't words he said often or lightly. A knot formed in your stomach but the tears stopped.

“It 's okay.” You responded with a raspy voice from the crying.

“No, I shouldn't have doubted your route. You're the professional.”

You couldn't decide between bursting into laughter or crying again. He was clueless, wasn't he? Maybe you could just roll with that and hide your true feelings. It was a good opportunity and it’ll save you from an uncomfortable moment. But you weren't the kind of person to do that.

“Mando, do you really think I'm mad because of that?” A pensive hum was his only response.

The bunk's door opened and a very confused warrior appeared right in front of you. Your eyes were red but your smile was bright. You felt your heart hammering inside your chest. He looked so helpless, all his self-assurance gone because of your tears. You sighed, gathering the courage to speak.

“In the cockpit, there was a moment when you were very close to me...” Mando immediately stiffened.

“I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable because of that. I thought…” His voice was strained through the modulator. You shook your head.

“I'm the one who misunderstood the situation, Mando.” You stared at him but it was clear his metal head wasn't computing. “ You were almost all over me. I thought something was going to happen. Between us.” You had to clarify.

The gears inside the helmet started turning and finally, you could see those broad shoulders relax a bit.

“You expected…you wanted something to happen between us?” He asked using your own words. You bit your lip unsure, but you were already too far gone to stop this.

“Yes Mando, I really like you and what happened in the cockpit made me feel rejected. That's why I was mad.” This time you tried to explain yourself clearly as you didn't want more misunderstandings, even though your skin felt like molten lava. Mando remained silent for a while, shifting his weight and finally took a step towards the bunk, putting a hand against the frame of the door.

“Why would I reject you?” 

“What?” It wasn't possible you had heard that right.

“You've understood me perfectly.” His voice turned darker and commanding. You swallowed at the sudden change of demeanour. 

“I don't know. Many have rejected me before. It made sense.” You felt vulnerable and hugged your knees trying to appear smaller unconsciously. Opening up about your fear of rejection wasn't in your plans today. “Where I come from, being overweight is frowned upon.” You added in a small voice, ashamed of your feelings.

“Di’kute!” He grunted the foreign word, audibly angry. To your surprise, he sat next to you inside the cot and grabbed your hand. “You're a gorgeous woman, mesh’la. They were bantha fodder if they couldn't appreciate you.”

It may have been your already sensitive state, but tears came again to you. His faceless stare burnt you, as well as his body heat inside the tiny space. But he continued with the praise without letting go of your hand.

“Where I come from fat is a good signal. It means health, and strength. Extra padding in battle.” You giggled but he was serious. “It's synonymous with peace and not living off ration bars. It means giving birth to healthy younglings.” He added the last point in a raspier voice and you stopped breathing thinking about the meaning behind those words. 

“Mando…”

“Come here mesh’la.” You didn't recognise the last word but obeyed and the next moment you were in his lap. “Can I touch you?” His voice sounded kinder this time, less commanding. Your heart was going to explode.

“Please.” 

And then his hands were all over you. Tracing the outline of your curves, grabbing the supple flesh of your tights, grazing over your generous bust. The touch was so intoxicating, passionate but slow, as if he wanted desperately to memorize your shape.

“Your body is precious, I'll put a hole between the eyes of whoever made you feel the opposite.” You had never felt aroused by violence, but Mando's voice whispering that in your ear made things to you. It felt so hot inside the bunk by then you felt the necessity to get rid of your clothing. Nevertheless, in spite of Mando's praise, you doubted when you grabbed the hem of your tunic. He sensed your hesitancy. “Are you gonna show me that beautiful armour padding?”

You giggled, amused by how playful he became in bed, and finally removed the piece of clothing. His sharp breath was everything you needed to hear.

“Like what you see Mando?” You teased, discarding the tunic and feeling a bit more confident because of his reaction. While he was a victim of a momentary paralysis, you took your chance to caress his biceps where any armour protected his skin. He was as hard as Beskar there and you thought this warrior could be the first to actually manhandle you. That thought only contributed to the heat growing in your centre dangerously.

“Dank Farrik I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you after this.” His voice sounded pained behind the vocoder while he appreciated your soft body.

“Then don’t.” You coed, and then guided his hands to your breasts that were spilling from your bra dangerously. Mando exhaled loudly as if all the tension he had been holding the last weeks was released. His gloved thumbs found your nipples fast, the stiff material feeling so good against your sensitive peaks. “Don’t be afraid, you can be rougher with them.”

Mando actually moaned at your honeyed words and you couldn’t name a more heavenly sound. He explored your tits with devotion, giving them all the attention in the world until your nipples couldn’t be harder and your breathing more agitated. But then, after some time hovering over his legs, yours started to feel numb from sustaining the position so you had to move a bit to feel your muscles again.

“Sorry, my legs went numb.” You excused yourself, but in a heartbeat, his hands shifted to your plush hips and you got the hint. 

“Sit.”

“I’ll crush you.” Looking away, your previous self-confidence cracked a bit after his petition. You were too heavy, he will be uncomfortable and then…

“I carry bounties three times my weight for a living.” With the cocky affirmation, he interrupted your racing thoughts before spiralling. “I’ll be okay.”

You haven’t seen him in action yet, but the image of the Mandalorian manoeuvring a bounty out of pure strength made you shiver, yielding to his command. But you wouldn’t drown without dragging him with you.

“Stars woman!” He grunted when your clothed cunt made contact with his bulge. Not satisfied enough with that, you rolled your hips a couple of times to torture him further. Your plan backfired, as it provoked both of you to moan in unison.

“You wanted me…to sit.” You sassed between laboured breaths. Mando growled in response, but his hands travelled to your behind until they were grabbing a handful of your round ass.

“Do you know where else I’d want you to sit?” His voice was raspier than ever, the desire on it crystal clear to you. He really wanted you.

“Mando!” This playful side of him was unexpected but you were loving every moment of it. He took advantage of his leverage to move you impossibly closer to him, making you squirm when your sensitive nipples touched the colder beskar of his cuirass. Your hands snaked around his thick neck and you found yourself completely squished against your huge warrior. His erection felt so hot and hard between your legs that your cunt only grew wetter and wetter, making you wonder if he could notice. Then he started to move and soon you were moaning in the crook of his neck, grinding like a loth-cat in heat.

“Please mesh’la, let me make you feel as good as you deserve.” All the cockiness of his tone was done when he asked you with the most laboured breathing. His hands started caressing your spine and back rolls and you were a puddle in his strong arms. 

“Let me…let me get up to remove my pants.” He indeed let you, but his hands didn´t, and while you stood to remove the last of your clothes, he continued exploring your body completely mesmerized. “Mando, I can’t undress if you don’t put your hands away!” You giggled standing on the threshold of the bunk waiting for him to realize. His helmet turned up to look at you then as if he was weighing his possibilities.

“Allow me to undress you, please.” The tone of his plead made you shiver and your cunt walls spasm. Your noded suddenly shy and the next moment he was on his knees unfastening your boots. Maker, what a sight.

When he finished with your footwear, he removed your shocks and started caressing your ankles, going up your calves painfully slowly until he finally reached the waistband of your pants. By then, you were shivering out of pure anticipation. But he still took the time to discard first your pants leaving you in your soaked underwear. He stopped and removed his hands for you to your surprise. Maybe he was having second thoughts? Maybe he didn’t like what he saw?

Your thoughts didn’t spiral for long, as Mando started removing his gloves still kneeling at your feet. Your eyes went wide: it was the first time you saw any of his skin. Gloves finally apart, you could appreciate it was a beautiful hue of gold before his thumbs were hooked in your panties. Without seeing his expression, you could feel the reverence in every touch Of his. It was like you were something holy and he was praying at your shrine. Then it hit you: this wasn’t just a fuck for both of you. This will change things.

“You’re drenched mesh’la.” The last piece of clothing was finally removed and his curious hands didn’t take long to open the folds of your glistening cunt. You looked away a bit embarrassed but he assured you. “You’re so beautiful and soft I can't help myself but...”

Then he did the most surprising thing. With his fingers covered with your slick, he went to the inferior part of his helmet and made disappear. He yas kriffing tasting you.

“Dank Farrik and you taste heavenly too.” Things became fast in a moment. He suddenly stood up in all his imposing height, totally covered in contrast with your nakedness, grabbed your but and in a heartbeat was lifting you from the floor. You squirmed in surprise, your legs rapidly snaking around his tapered waist, feeling all the whole glory of his erection against your pussy. He then turned in his heels and laid you in his bed delicately. But you weren’t playing tame anymore.

“Mando, I need you please.” Your plea was accompanied by a roll of your hips against the bulge on his pants, and you moaned at the sensation of the harsh fabric against the sensitive skin there. Mando grunted at the contact and obeyed you, removing his crossbody ammo belt. You continued the grinding while he battled with the straps of his hip belt, pleasuring yourself against his hard cock, until the leather piece full of pouches hit the ground with a loud thud. 

Finally, his hot hands were all over you again and he leaned over your body. But then, he froze in place. You looked at him quizzically when you heard something metallic rolling on the floor. Maybe something important? Maker, you knew he kept bombs on the belt…

“Wait,” he said, leaving you naked in the bunk where you experienced the worst ten seconds of your life thinking you were going to be blown away before having sex with the Mandalorian. But his absence was brief, and he returned with a spherical object between his golden fingers. Something you didn’t recognize at all.

“Is it a bomb?” You asked clueless. He chucked but there was something off about it. 

“It’s from a lever in the cockpit.” You sighed in relief knowing your life or his weren’t in danger. Noticing how he wouldn’t stop looking at the metal ball, you knew he wasn’t okay. Finding your tuning between the mess of sheets and blankets, you put it on and sat on the edge of the cot. You didn’t feel annoyed because the intimate moment was interrupted: it was clear something was disturbing him.

“Hey, Mando, look at me.” You asked, holding his bare wrists most delicately. He flinched at the contact and you noticed his pulse was derailed. Then he looked at you like he had just noticed you were there and started apologising.

“I’m so sorry I…” It looked like he didn’t even know how to start explaining himself. You’ll say he sounded even embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. We don’t have to continue if you don’t feel like it.” His shoulders slumped and his gaze fixated again on the ball. And then you noticed, by the light shivering of his torso. He was crying. Your heart broke in a thousand pieces. “Come here, baby.”  You cooed, opening your arms to the Mandalorian, hoping you could offer some relief to whatever he was experiencing. 

To your surprise, he fell to his knees again and then sank his helmet into your lap. His shoulders were convulsing more visibly now and your chest hurt for him. You started caressing the back of his neck, hoping it felt soothing for him, and remained like that for a while.

“I’ve got you baby.”

You didn’t know how much time it passed with Mando sobbing against your tunic and you doing your best to make him feel better, but after a while, it looked like he was calmer.

“I already lost him once.” His voice was coarse from crying, and even though the lack of context you knew immediately he was referring to Grogu.

“We’ll find him and take him home, Mando.” You responded softly, feeling something warm spread inside you and not stopping for a second your caresses.

“Din.” He finally unburied his head from your lap and looked at you. “My name is Din Djarin.”

[stonebutchooze]

When I was younger, in our family that normalised my dad's abuse, it was always said that with him you had to "earn your stripes". Maybe if you were impressive enough, assertive enough, predicted his whims and moods well enough to not set him off, one day he would respect you.

This wasn't true. I spent all my time around him trying hard to mould into an acceptable child. quiet, not attention seeking, independent. when I asked for things, like attention or his help, I got a sneer or a lecture. Being noticed was bad.

Tigers have stripes to camouflage. To blend into their environment better. To be less noticeable. To have the advantage in an attack.

I suppose I did earn my stripes. But not to be noticed or respected by him. I learnt how to avoid him, have short conversations that didn't lead to me being criticised. This was not fool proof; sometimes I got punished for being too distant, too silent.

Now my mother is confused when she shouts at me and I don't shout back. Why don't you say your piece, she asks? I wonder if she notices the survival strategies I've spent a lifetime honing. Nod your head. Stay silent. Draw no attention.

It's only this year I've started arguing back. Saying no. Not backing down when a task is beyond my limits. And it's helped. People don't expect too much of me anymore. People don't expect me to blend in and accept abuse. Largely because I am no longer a child, and no longer think I have to be abused like one.

I spent my whole life being told I have to earn my stripes for my father to treat me well.

In the end, I had to grow my claws.