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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: you all are beautiful.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The professor’s shadow looms over you in your dim room. Now you have a face for your disappointment. The thought of his staunch expression fills you with dread and somewhat motivation. So it is that you at least try. Just try. Simple as that. Try. 

After your meeting, you spend the day cleaning your room, hoping for a clean slate to start over. You spend a bit too long contemplating useless possessions as if putting off the inevitable. Eventually you have to sit down and do the real work. Once you do that, you will be forced to face reality. This is the flip of the coin; success or failure. 

The next morning you turn on the overhead light, casting the space in a brighter tint than usual. You aren’t used to the clarity or the tidiness. You can see the floor. There isn’t clutter on the desk or the bookshelf and it just feels easier. 

Anxious to begin, you sit down and boot up your laptop. You open your notebook and find your place. The course book takes some time to load as you yawn and rub your forehead. You need coffee before you begin. That’s it. No other distractions after that. 

You get up and cross the room, a needling above your left eyebrow. Yes, coffee is a must. You come out into the hall and listen to the silence of the apartment. It’s early and you know your mother had a late night. You woke up several times to inexplicable thumps. 

You shuffle into the kitchen and wash out the dregs of yesterday’s coffee from the pot. You empty the filter and put in a new one; measuring the grounds particularly. Everything you do is deliberate now, it has to be. You pour water in the tank and pop the lid down, hitting brew to cap off the process. 

You lean on the counter and yawn again. You hang your head as your eyelids grow heavy. You can’t be sleepy all day. You need your energy. The equations will certainly do little for your pulsing head. 

You hear your mom’s bedroom door and you shift over towards the sink. A figure appears at the edge of your vision but you don’t look over. You assume it’s her until the deep rumble rises from the man’s throat. Lee nears and before you can sidle further, he’s behind you. 

“Mm, coffee smells good,” he rasps as he pens you in, reaching over your head to open the cupboard. His stomach presses to your back as you stare down at the sink, “scuse me.” He takes down a cup, lingering a moment before he backs away and sets the cup down with a loud clink, “you’re up early.” 

Him too. You keep the thought sewn up behind your lips. You shrug. 

“Heard you last night too. Skittering around in your room.” 

Your blink at him. He wears only a pair of white underwear, his belly pudgy but his arms firmly muscled. He hardly seems bothered by his bareness. He takes the pot off the burner mid-brew and fills his cup, emptying what’s there before he places it back. You tuck your lower lip under your teeth and cross your arms. 

“Night owl, huh,” he comments as he pulls the sugar dish away from the wall. He takes the lid off and sprinkles the sugar into his coffee without a spoon. You stand and watch him dumbly. 

He swirls the mug and takes a sip. He lets out a satisfied sigh, “mm, you make good coffee.” 

You bite into your lip before you let it free, “thanks, sir.” 

He scoffs, “sir? Ain’t got my badge on right now.” 

You nod and cross your arms. 

“How old’re ya?” he turns to lean on the counter, slurping loudly. 

You’re put off by his curiosity. Your run-ins are few and far between. That’s on purpose. You avoid your mother’s men and often, the do the same with you. You answer him and he hums, eyes slitting as he thinks. 

“And you’re still living here with ma?” He wonders, “old enough to be out on your own, ain’t ya?” 

“I guess,” you lock your arms tightly, your shoulders hurting from the tension. 

“Mmm,” he takes another gulp, his eyes still on you. “Ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Bet lots of men wouldn’t mind.” 

“What?” You shift back on your heel. 

“Yeah, not too bad on the eyes, are ya? I mean, ladies are all the same when you get em naked,” he chortles and stands straight.  

“Sir, I... I got... I got homework,” you turn, swaying awkwardly as you drop your arms and march away. 

“Ah, smarty pants, huh? Men like that too,” he taunts after you. “Don’t matter much when they young like you.” 

You’re brittle, about to break. You don’t need another reminder of how much of a loser you are. Even when you try, it’s just not enough.  

You don’t look back, your skin crawling as he belches and you hear the carafe hit the top of the machine as he lifts it again. You close yourself in your room and frown at the wall. You didn’t even get coffee for all that. 

You pout and drag your feet to the desk. You sit down and brace your head in your hands. You’ll try to wait him out. He’ll have to leave eventually. Coffee doesn’t matter. You got to get through this course book. You promised you would. 

📓

It takes two days to finish the coursebook, faster than expected. A gleam of pride flashes through your mind but quickly fizzles out as you attach your work to an email. It might be done but it matters more that it's done correctly.  

You don't know much of Professor Smith or truly of people in general, but he seems to be very precise. Forgiving in moments but given his feedback on previous submissions, he is strict about the numbers themselves. You make yourself hit send. 

You could take the afternoon on some self-congratulatory celebration, but you still have work to do. You open up coursework five and wait for the case studies to load. The most difficult part for you are the spreadsheets. There's so much data to sift through though applying the formulas and balancing them are easy enough. 

After a few problems, you stretch your fingers and lean your head on the heels of your hands. You yawn at the desk and roll your shoulders as you sit up. If you can get through just one course, you might just be able to do this. 

It's a bit ridiculous. The smallest of things are so big to you. The simple are overly complicated by your self-doubt and yet too often those doubts have proven true.  

You shake off the wave of grimness and stand up. You stop halfway, hovering between the seat and your feet, as an email chimes in. It's Professor Smith. You sit and blink at the laptop. 

'Thank you. I will have a look over and return with feedback. Hope you are keeping well. Good job on the speedy work. 

Best, 

Raymond' 

Your cheeks pinch as a smile threatens. He hasn't said whether you've done well or not but the acknowledgement feels like sunshine on your skin. It makes you want to keep going. 

You forget about the whim to have a cup of tea and settle back in to work at the next problem. If you get through the first section of the coursework, you might just be able to sleep. 

📓

Groggy, you rub your eyes and grumble. You lean forward on the toilet and let the trickle out. You woke up with a horrible fullness and it hurts to let it out. You sigh as you stand and pull up your sweatpants. 

As you crank on the sink, you hear a groaning hinge that mirrors the noise. There's staggering and the shatter of glass. A body hits the wall just outside the bathroom door. You turn off the faucet and face the commotion.  

Your heart races as your mother cries out and there's the crack of flesh. Your reticence has you cowering as fire speckles over you. It's not just fear, it's anger, the frustration you tamp down each time you hear her bawling. 

"No good lousy bitch," Lee snarls as there's another slap. This time he grunts, "what the hell do ya think ya doin'?" 

You near the door and slowly turn the knob. You inch it open and see your mother crawling away from the man. The scent of vodka permeates the air and a broken bottle litters the carpet around her. 

Lee boots her rear and sends her to her stomach. She yelps as he steps over her, dropping down to straddle her between his knees. She's wearing one of her tattered night shirts and nothing else, one sleeve down her shoulder. 

"Now, I waa being nice and you just had to go and yip like a spoilt bitch," he grabs her hair and forces her head up as she whines. The thrashes out, the glass cutting into her arms and legs, as he shifts his weight and the elastic of his briefs tautens as he tugs at it. "Lemme show ya what you're worth--" 

Your heart races and your throat lumps. Your chest tightens and your adrenaline wakes you completely. You don't know what to do. Do what you always do; hide. 

You push the door towards the frame and your mother sobs again. You close your eyes and stop. You don't know what you're doing. Why you're doing it. It never helps. It never works. Not since that little girl ended up at the bottom of the stairs all those years ago. When she learned to keep out of the way. 

Those memories fade and you swing the door inward. Your feet stomp out across the floor and you leap onto Lee's back as he bares his ass. You hook your arms around his thick neck and he falls backwards as your mom yelps again. 

“Huh, oh,” she wriggles and drags herself from under you and Lee as you wrestle on the floor, “sweetie, no--” 

She reaches for you and Lee kicks her again. She falls back and you squeeze him tighter, as hard as you can, ignore the bite of the glass as it pierces through your shirt. He elbows your side and you gasp, the pain ringing through your ribs.

Still, you don’t let go. You don’t know why. Maybe because if you do, you lose. 

“What’re ya—dumb little brat—just like your ma,” he snarls as his weight crushes you and he tries to peel your fingers from around your forearm. “I’m gonna teach you--” 

“Don’t hurt her!” You mother jumps on him, further adding to the pile. You can’t breathe as you’re flattened beneath them. “That’s my daughter! My daughter...” 

Her words slur drunkenly as she cries and lays her fists weakly into the man atop you. He shoves her off of him easily but she doesn’t relent. She lands on her ass between his legs and yours. You barely keep hold of him as you head begins to thrum. 

“Hold him, baby,” she orders as you can only see the top of her head over the chaos. She jerks and the man atop you grunts and shrivels his hands flying down to cup below his waist. “God--- Irene. The—fuck.” 

“Baby, let him go,” your mother huffs and heaves as she struggles to her feet. 

She pulls on your arm, tugging you out from under him as he rolls onto his sides, his hand between his legs. She must have got a good shot in. She stumbles and sways as she pulls you up, hanging onto you as she almost topples again. She’s drunk. Very drunk. 

“Go to your room, sweetie,” she brings a hand to your cheek. “Please--” 

“But...” you trail off and look down at the man as he puffs out through gritted teeth, “make him go, mom. Please. He’s going to hurt you.” 

“It’s alright,” she coos and pets your face, “it doesn’t hurt so much.” 

“Wh-why?” You sputter. 

“You gotta go, baby,” she coaxes, “let me take care of him.” 

“Mom, please,” you beg her, eyes glazing with tears. “We can call the cops--” 

“He is the cops, baby,” she lets you go and turns to him, falling over him as she rubs his arm, “Lee, honey, I’m sorry. I was just scared--” 

“I oughta--” he chokes out, “that damn daughter of yours...” 

“Shush, honey,” she comforts him and bends to whisper in his ear. 

You stare down at them, mortified. All that effort and for what? She just folds for these men. Goes right back to taking the abuse. Over and over again. They don’t even treat her nice. 

She looks up again, her eyes glistening, “go. Lock your door.” 

Her hiss nips at you and has you scrambling to your room. There’s nothing you can do. You don’t know why you thought for that instant that you could. You don’t know why you think there’s anything you can do right. It all just ends the same. 

[trueangel420]

kit walker, “I said it really nicely, so can you be my savior?” kinda outta luck - ldr ౨ৎ part 2 of this wc 1038 (it’s so short)

You stood at the payphone, fingers curled around the wire as you leaned back against the glass booth. Your mother’s voice boomed through the static: “You’ve been riding around the South with that man? Baby, you haven’t stolen his car yet.” She wasn’t one to judge; she knew how impulsive you could be. After a few hours of traveling with Kit, she was worried about her little troublemaker.

“Ma!” you whispered into the phone, glancing back at the gas station. “I’m not stealin’ his car. I tried already,” you mumbled, embarrassment washing over you again.

“We’ve been driving around all night, Ma. I’m trying to behave,” you said, hearing her sigh through the phone. She was always supportive, no matter what. “Go into that gas station and get something. You don’t have to hurt that good man. He’s helping you out of the kindness of his heart, Bunny.” That was true. You needed some clothes and refreshments, and you didn’t plan on paying for them. You hung up the phone and stepped out of the glass booth, walking past Kit as he filled up his tank.

“Need me to come in with you, doll?” He called out, making you pause. God, he was polite—probably the nicest man you’d ever met.

“No need, just grabbing a few things,” you replied, eyeing his clothes. Unlike you, he had extra clothes in his car and had changed into jeans and a tank top—something simple to beat the heat. His outfit was clean, showing off the outline of his body perfectly. He reached for his wallet, waving it.

“Here,” he offered.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, I got it,” you insisted, even though you had nothing but the lint in your pockets. Kit watched you with those kind eyes as you turned and headed into the gas station, the bell above the door chiming softly as you entered.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the rows of snacks and drinks. You grabbed a basket and started tossing in essentials—water, gas station sandwiches, and a six-pack of Coke. Making your way to the back, where the clothes were, you spotted an American flag bikini and a pair of shorts. A beach bag caught your eye—one big enough to fit everything. You decided to stuff all your items in there.

Glancing back, you noticed the old clerk wasn't paying any attention. Perfect. You looked outside and saw Kit waiting in the car, his hands tapping on the wheel. “Getaway driver,” you mumbled to yourself, laughing. That's what he's going to be when you're done.

You made your way to the cashier, holding the bag like it was yours and flashing him a sweet smile. “Do you happen to have any cigarettes?” you asked, trying to distract him. The man shook his head and looked behind him. "I don't suppose I do, little lady. We have... well," he started to search more thoroughly, and you slipped a chocolate bar off the counter into your bag.

“Well, I'll be on my way if you don't. Have a good day, mister!” you said, leaving—your pace casual, though you didn't want him to notice his loot slung over your arm.

You sat in the passenger seat, and Kit watched you closely before clearing his throat. “I feel bad for having you pay for it, doll. Can I make it up to you?” Though it had only been a few hours, Kit was already incredibly sweet on you.

You bit your lip, glancing over at him. He offered, and he’s been so kind—he doesn’t even know you. “I don’t even know where you're going. I don’t want this to be our last stop,” he confessed voice lower than usual, his eyes focused on you. “Do you want to keep going with me? Don’t you have people back home?”

He shook his head. “They don’t matter, not after I met you.”

“You don’t know me from a can of paint, Kit—” He shook his head again and started the engine, his hands tapping the wheel. “Don’t need to know you, sugar. Didn’t you hear me say that?”

“I’m bad news,” you blurted out, looking at him. His face twisted in confusion as he rubbed his jaw, keeping one hand on the wheel. He finally settled on his words.

“Don’t care.”

“Why?” you whispered, gawking at him like he was insane. He’d only met you hours ago and now he wanted to stay on the route you were going. A wild girl like you—you didn’t even have a plan, just to get as far away from that gun and that truck as you could. He turned on the radio, keeping the volume low as "My Girl" played.

“I got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sang along, ignoring you. “I guess you say what can make me feel this way,” he glanced at you, “my girl.”

“Come on, Kit, stop—” you tried to keep a straight face, your lips pressed into a line.

“Why? Because you’re different, that’s why. You got somethin’ in you. I can see it now—you and me traveling together for a long time,” he said fondly, his cheeks slightly pink as he continued to drive. The road was quiet, and the sun started to set. You needed to make a decision about him. You needed to be truthful—you needed to be careful.

“Kit…” you started, turning towards him as you spoke. He glanced at you before staring at the road again. “I’ve hurt people. I’m a—” You recalled all the things you did; this wasn’t your first time stealing and hurting people close to you. Trouble followed you insatiably.

“I don’t need money, fortune, or fame,” he hummed to the song. “I guess you say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he looked at you again, smiling.

“Kit, I’ve ki—”

“Don’t tell me,” your eyes widened at his words. What? Don’t tell him? What was his problem.. why did he trust you so much—why did he like you so much?

“D-don’t tell you?”

“Don’t tell me, sugar.” You nibbled your bottom lip, realizing he was serious about this, about being here with you. “Turn left here—it’s a motel,” you murmured, watching him nod and make the turn.

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #8: Baby, You're the Best

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by djo

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 4K (eighth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

VIII. Once the tin siding of your clapboard hut is within view, you break into a run despite your legs trembling beneath you. The wash of anxiety from riding the speeder bike shudders through your body in receding waves of nausea and panic, tilting the world on its axis until you have to pause to clutch at your stomach. 

Before you can steady yourself—you sink to your knees, gag, and heave bile onto the dirt path. 

The thrill is undeniable, but so is the terror. The illusion of control is just that, an illusion. Gone in an instant with one wrong sightline or shift of your shoulders. There’d been a moment when your life had flashed before your eyes, when you nearly crashed the bike into a retaining wall making a sharp left turn. And then again, dodging the pylons under a water tank. 

But you did it. Not long ago, you would have been stuck, trapped inside the TaggeCo compound with no way out, but today you got on the fucking bike, shifted into gear, and rode that bitch to freedom.

You’d happily thank the Mandalorian for his exasperated yet efficient tutelage—but seeing as he couldn’t care less about being here, this victory is entirely yours. Should it come up in conversation, you will definitely leave out the part where you got tossed over the front of the speeder, braking too hard. 

Fortunately, you didn’t crash in view of the guards. They were more than happy to nod you through the exit wearing a Tagge Corporation uniform stolen from the medical offices, along with someone’s very well-tailored flight jacket. 

Your heart had been racing so hard you could barely hear them over the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums, fearing they would recognize you as Kessen’s…escort, who had passed through the gatehouse hours earlier. But apparently, they hadn’t noticed anything higher than your tits and didn’t realize the ‘doctor’ waving at them as she left work for the day, was actually the same person. 

How would the bodyguard react when he returned to the clinic looking for you? Or when he discovers that you’d taken his speeder? It’s parked outside the same public hall where you both play Sabacc. Hopefully, he’d spot it the next time he visited the tables. 

But for now, you feel safe. However much Kessen ingratiated himself with the locals, drinking at the cantinas and playing cards, he was aligned with the Tagge family. None of your neighbors would tell him where to find you. 

Although, anything is possible with enough money…

No. No! You’re being paranoid. Johar Kessen is expecting to see you at the bonfire. You’ve got at least three or four hours before you have to worry about anything more complicated than crumpling into a ball of blankets and staring up at the ceiling. 

You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand and haul yourself upright.

Lakarani huts were all constructed in a circular design, with thick oilskin tarps stretched over their vaulted wooden beams to form a domed roof at the top. Inside, the interior walls, about shoulder height, divided the space into segments like the spokes of a wheel. It created sleeping stalls that afforded some measure of privacy once you’d draped a few curtains overhead. You pull them aside, ready to crawl under the covers and collapse into unconsciousness.

But for the second time that day, you find someone has left a gift on top of your bedroll. 

Humia—it couldn’t have been anyone else—had laid out a dress for you, presumably, to wear to the bonfire that night. 

It’s a silvery-blue color that hugs your body to the waist, then widens into a soft, flowing skirt. Obviously, one of her own, given the size, but you have to admit that it looks gorgeous on you, clinging to your breasts and curves. The tension in the fabric pulls tight across your wide hips, creating this little swell between your thighs where—

You tear the dress off, ripping the bodice in your frantic efforts to get it over your head. 

What had, seconds ago, seemed like a simple gesture of friendship suddenly feels vulgar and manipulative. Was she hoping to offer you up to Kessen in a pretty little package? She’d been so eager about the idea of you meeting him there.

What had she said…it’s not much of a heavy lift, surely?

With both hands, you grip the soft fabric between your fists and begin tearing the dress to shreds. It’s petty vengeance, but it feels so fucking good. 

The rage building in your chest is pure and honest. You let it guide every wrenching pull until your heart is racing. Hair swings about your face, tendrils sticking to your sweaty, flushed cheeks. You’re breathing so shallow and fast now that you start to get dizzy again and have to brace yourself against the pillows.

That’s when your fingers brush against the stiff and silky ridges of embroidery. Under your scattered pillows is a thin leather sheath decorated with crescent moons and stars and night blossoms—flowers that only opened under moonlight. The color of the embroidered thread matches the dress perfectly. Too perfect to be a coincidence. The dress and sheath are a set, and—you make a concerted search of blankets and discover—yes, a sash to wear over both. It’s Lakarani festival attire. 

Oh, you are such an asshole.

The sob that rises from your chest takes you by surprise. But as soon as it passes your lips, there’s no point in trying to hold back. You sob and howl like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap. And why not? You’re just as helpless. 

Humia, Nito, Johar, Mando…you don’t know how to fix any of it.

Alright, just breathe. Breathe, dammit. 

The origin of the dress did not, in and of itself, change Humia’s intentions. Honey is the word she used this morning, because using you as a honey pot is exactly what she has planned. However—that crude intent did not change the generosity of her gesture. Between the Hutts and the Tagge family, the Lakarani struggled to preserve their cultural traditions. Honatoka is supposed to be a week-long festival celebration, and it had been reduced to twelve hours of leave from work, granted by the people who thought of their sacred holiday as a sex party. 

Your anger at Humia might be justified, but nothing can justify your reaction. You have to make this right.  

Osram, the Echani who ran the wash house, also did some tailoring. Maybe he could repair—you glance down at the strips of frayed and puckered fabric—okay, remake the dress? In fact, that might be an ideal cover to approach him. 

You don’t have all the details worked out yet, but you’re percolating on a plan that would involve Osram combing a few of the uniforms you stole to accommodate Nito’s four arms. There aren’t any Ardennians currently working for the Tagge family on Lakaran, as far as you know, but that was the magic of a uniform and lab coat. As long as it was freshly laundered, crisp, and pristine, no one saw past it. You could even coach Nito to recite some incomprehensible monologue about creatinine clearance if he was questioned.   

Because Nito’s right. You need him to pull this off. It went against every instinct, but having him and the kid by your side might be the best way to keep them safe.

Nito is a child—they are both children—and yet he probably knew more about survival than you did. Sure, you had suffered, been ripped away from the loving arms of your family. But you had never gone hungry, never worried about where you would sleep at night. You had people who cared for you, if not about you. Love did not keep a child from starving or being murdered in an alley for the coins in their pocket. 

Nito had survived the streets of Coronet City, navigated street wars, and negotiated his way out of all of it. Mando had little patience for the Ardennian’s sardonic immaturity, but he respected Nito’s expertise. So should you.     

But getting him inside the Tower…ugh?!

Kriffing hell, what are you going to do about Kessen? There’s just no denying that crossing the skybridge on level seven of the residential tower is made infinitely easier with Johar’s help. Without him, you’ll need to come up with some compelling cover story, like maybe Nito was a specialist who had traveled to Lakaran to consult with you on a medical issue…or the Child is Ephram Tagge’s newest pet and you were both very legit veterinary professionals delivering him…

Or you could just waltz through the front door with Johar Kessen, no questions asked. 

And then what? Do you involve him in the entire plan to take over the Tagge refinery? 

Deep down you know that’s not your call to make. Not alone anyway. But you are loath to tell Humia about this. She will be ecstatic, of course. 

And then there’s telling Mando, who will be…who the fuck knows what the Mandalorian’s reaction will be.

Is there some way you can get Kessen’s help without resorting to seduction? Right now, that seems naive, bordering on delusional. Especially after he’s made his desires clear. Back at the clinic, he had been seconds away from placing your hand over his cock before the guard on patrol barged in. And you still don’t have an answer for what would’ve happened next. 

Would you have passively let it happen? Let him pull you into his arms, onto his lap. Let him take you on the exam table?

That’s what scares you most. The thought that you might recede inside yourself so he could use the body you left behind. If it meant that he would help you? If it meant you could defeat the Tagges? You were willing to sacrifice your life for this cause. Why is this any different?

Maybe you could pretend it was your choice. Maybe you could try to enjoy it.

But it wasn’t something you would choose. Not when your head is so confused with thoughts about Mando.

Perhaps the Mandalorian wouldn’t care? If he’s putting this distance between you…

Blessed mother, if you tell Mando about Johar Kessen and he encourages you to sleep with him, it might actually destroy you. 

No. The solution, as it stands, is to avoid crossing paths with the bodyguard ever again. Kessen would find some enthusiastic partner at the bonfire tonight, very eager to have sex with him in a moonlit field, and that would be the end of it. He would lose interest in you. His newfound love for the Lakarani would turn him against the Tagge family. He'd join the revolution, and it would have absolutely nothing to do with you. 

Erenada, you really are delusional. 

As you sob into the crook of your arm, you tell yourself to let it go. But it’s too much to let go of in one night. The weight of the cause, the guilt, your anger, and most of all, Mando and everything you might have been—it’s more than you can lay aside in a single bout of tears.

You do your best, though. It’s difficult to reach for your powers—particularly to wield them on your own body—when your mind is scattered to pieces. But you manage to reduce your hormone levels and blood pressure. Just enough to stop the racing thoughts. It’s not something you’d ordinarily do. To turn off your capacity for pain and anguish is to risk losing your empathy. It’s what had turned Tigran into a monster. You just need enough peace to find sleep. 

When you’re all out of tears, you lift your head from the damp pillow to crawl under your blankets. By then, your head aches from sobbing, and exhaustion drags you down within seconds, too deep for dreams.

*****

Halfway into your troubled sleep, a muffled but insistent beeping noise wakes you. You’ve never quite shaken that soldier’s battle readiness—a quick jolt of unease, and you’re immediately alert. You start patting down your rucksack when you realize the sound is coming from your communicator.

A glance toward the window tells you there must be another hour or so before sunset. The sky is still alight with the dusky haze of twilight. And yet, the usual noisy chorus of neighbors is missing.

Apart from the soft creak of the laundry line outside, it’s surprisingly quiet. You can’t sense Davik or Serenio’s presence either. Everyone must be down at the river already, awaiting the totality of sunset next to the bonfire, celebrating with music and dancing along the spiraling jetty.  

Vigilance costs nothing, so you double-check that you are indeed alone before pulling out the communicator. Holding it inches from your face, head cocked in disbelief, you see that someone has sent you their location coordinates. The signal originates from...inside the hut?

No. That can’t be right. Unless—no, you drop your gaze from the cloth tarps overhead. They’re under the hut, right below you.

Panicked at the implications, you try to focus and regain your bearings. Where are your boots? The signal remains motionless, waiting for you. It must be an emergency for Nito to risk coming here. You pray nothing has happened to the kid. You throw on the first thing you pull out of your rucksack and rush towards the door.

Remembering that security drones could be anywhere, you step onto your clapboard porch as if you’re making a routine trip to the privy, your new robe cinched around your waist. Admittedly you wouldn’t normally wear something this nice to take a shit in a compostable toilet, but that hardly seems like the most pressing concern at the moment. 

Swallowing a lump the size of your fist, you turn onto the rocky path sloping downhill between the houses with performative calm. When you step into the shadows between the cantilever beams underneath your hut, you release all the breath you’ve been holding. 

“Nito?” you whisper, directing your question into the darkness.

But it’s Mando who emerges into the dappled light, his Beskar reflecting the soft twilight haze like a halo.

“Thulani,” the low, gruffness in his voice as he says your name makes your skin flush with heat, from your cheeks to your chest, to between your thighs.

You want to go to him. You want to wrap your arms around him. You want to shove him against a wall and demand to know where he’s been. You want to kiss him or simply run back to the hut and slam the door in his face. You have no idea what you want, so you stand there with your arms crossed anxiously over your stomach until you hear yourself ask, “What are you doing here?”

There’s clearly no emergency. The Mandalorian saunters toward you with that slow, rolling stride you love to watch so much. 

Now you want to scream at him. This is such a stupid risk to take! He’s wearing his cloak draped over him, and sure, it helped to obscure the winking gleam of Beskar. But if he’s spotted by a drone or, hell, another living soul…

There’s no good reason for a Mandalorian bounty hunter to be on your doorstep. The sight of him would set off gossip and speculation that could put the entire operation in peril.

If he had just waited for you at the Razor Crest…But, look at him! Dammit, that saunter?! 

Mando shakes his head, leaning a shoulder against one of the support beams, “I came for you…” his voice trails off. “I wanted to check on you.” 

How strange, to hear someone as sure and stoic as Mando sounding uncertain.

Your brain throws up warning bells. Is this the part where he launches into an explanation about why it would never work between you? Gods, if he says something about valuing your friendship, you will run down to the river and throw yourself into the current. 

“How are you holding up?”

What are you supposed to say? That’s a bad habit you’ve slipped into—trying to think of what people want to hear instead of just telling them the truth.

But you have no idea what Mando wants to hear right now.

He seems so cool and collected. While you, on the other hand, can already feel yourself getting wet from his just… standing there, existing. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

“It’s been rough,” you say, your polite, passionless mask settling into place. If he’s going to play it cool, so can you. “But…we’ve made a lot of progress.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he says firmly.

When you don’t say anything more, you both fall into silence. Yet he doesn’t grow impatient or frustrated.

When Mando finally speaks, he sounds steady again. Strong. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

It’s clear he has no idea what “it” is. Still, he wants to protect you from the pain of it. And gods be damned, you need that steadiness and strength. More than that, you need him. 

How do you tell him that your silence feels like the best protection? Because if you don’t say another word, you might just save yourself from the humiliation of begging him to touch you. 

“I’ll be alright,” is all you intend to say. But suddenly, you can’t seem to stop yourself from talking.

“It’s just…a challenge to ground myself in what’s real when I’m constantly weighing what I say and do to get the correct response from people.” Gods, it felt good to say that out loud. “I’ve begun thinking about everyone in terms of their usefulness to me. Cold calculation isn’t something in my nature, but it’s really important for the success of this mission—” You hold up a hand before he can correct you, “Job.”

But he doesn’t interrupt. Mando stays quiet, giving you the chance to let it all out. 

“I worry that I’ve made a terrible mistake thinking I could do this. It’s so hard to keep track of who knows what. Which lies I’ve told to whom. What should I share about myself to earn their trust versus how much to withhold,” you sigh, throwing up your hands, fingers catching in the tangled waves of your dyed brown hair. “I don’t even look like myself anymore.”       

He cocks his head, studying you intently. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your gaze snaps up. Oh? And your insides melt hearing the tenderness in his voice. It’s the same soft, gentle tone he used when you were lying naked in his arms. You look at him with a sudden glimmer of hope in your eyes.

The thrill of possibility spurs you forward, and you take a step closer to him. “I was worried you might not recognize me.” 

Mando also steps forward. With one hand, he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back as he leans closer. He’s so tall that he looms over you. All the ambient noise around you seems to fade away. You’re completely caught in the spell he’s weaving.

Goddess, how you miss the feel of his skin pressed against yours. Please soften his heart and make him mine.

“You still have the same fiercely intelligent eyes,” he says. “Always thinking. And these lines around your mouth,” Mando’s thumb brushes over your lower lip. “From when you smile.” 

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. You never have to worry about false flattery from the Mandalorian. 

“See?” His hand slides along your jaw, caressing your cheek. “Same dimples.”

Oh! Oh, so you’ve just completely misread the entire situation. This whole time, you’ve been thinking that he wanted to distance himself…but there was no deeper significance to his actions. It was nothing calculated or intentionally hurtful. No message he was sending you.

He needed to see Yarella to ensure the safety of his crew, and so he did. 

“Is that really what’s bothering you? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Oh, you could fill a book with the things you are not telling him. The pain and anger. All the shit with Kessen. You aren’t going to tell him any of it.

Rationally, you understand that he can’t know he’s done something to hurt you unless you tell him. He’s never had a romantic partner before—shit, just getting him to acknowledge that his choices impact the people around him was a months-long learning process. These miscommunications will continue to happen if you don’t actually tell him when he fails to communicate. 

But getting into a long conversation about feelings is the last thing you want to do right now. Talking about talking? You can’t imagine anything less sexy.

You don't want to break the spell. It’s easier to forget the hurt and pretend everything is fine. 

And as for the situation with Johar Kessen? Let’s just cross that bridge when you come to it.

You wind an arm around his neck and sag against him. “I just missed you.”

Mando’s other hand palms your waist, and the part of your heart you’d been trying to bury all day leaps for joy. “Good,” he says from somewhere above your head, a smile audible in his voice. 

Despite your angry panic, the desire welling up inside of you at the feel of his hands is a living thing trying to burst through your chest. It’s not easy to press yourself against all that armor—but that doesn’t stop you from trying. All the hurt and nagging concerns are meaningless. You’re fucked. Just incapable of suppressing how much you want him.

The Mandalorian bends his head to get a better look at you. “Sounds like I don’t have to worry about your new job.”

“Worry? That I’m going to hand in my resignation so I can mop floors for TaggeCo? Absolutely not,” you scoff. "Though there is something deeply gratifying about using a pressure washer."

“I didn’t think princesses knew how to mop,” he teases.

And this...this is what you missed. These tiny moments when he made you laugh or placed a comforting hand on your back. When he made you feel like there was no world outside the circle of his arms.

“Well, I wouldn’t know—what with not being a princess,” you roll your eyes. “But I was a novice at the palace temple, and novices learn to mop. And wash dishes. And do laundry.”

Fourteen-year-old Thulani would've refused to believe it, but all that drudgery has served you well. When you arrived on Lakaran, Humia deeply resented your addition to her team. “I don’t need you, and I don’t trust you, so stay out of my way,” were the first words she’d spoken to you.  Then, she watched you get down on your hands and knees to scrub for ten hours without complaint, come home, and carry two heavy jugs of potable water uphill, one in each hand, from the tanker at the center of camp. She’s been considerably nicer to you ever since. 

“You’re lucky I’m not the Hapan princess, by the way,” you grin, looking up into his viewplate. “The real princess would absolutely hate you. She’d never tolerate such a snarky bastard like—”

The Mandalorian moves impossibly fast. He grips your arms tightly, then pushes you away by the shoulders, pinning you against the steel support beam. Mando slams his hands on either side of you, so that you’re imprisoned by his arms. His muscular body presses against you. You swallow hard, stunned by the speed, awakening something inside you that feels a little bit like fear and a lot like lust.

“Shhh,” he says, as two of his leather fingers slide up to cover your lips.

That’s when you hear the crunch of rocks.

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

Continue reading - Volume 4 - Post #9: Lucid Dreams!

Back to all posts for Volume 4

[mangostar]

Some of the things I learned back when I had fish and bettas!

I think bettas are happiest in 10+ gallon sized tanks (the minimum recommended is 5 gallons, so bigger than you’ve got!). They love to patrol their territory and it’s nice to have different spaces to explore.

Also, even though bettas are pretty solitary, they do really well with plecostomos! I’d recommend getting one pleco that’s larger than a betta so it doesn’t try to eat it. They’re a long term commitment though, just like bettas, and they can grow to be a foot or two if they’re happy! So you’d definitely need to upsize in like… a decade or so. But they help keep the tank clean!

Keeping a tank in general is kind of a lot of work. You should replace a quarter of the water every week, and getting all the supplies can be pretty expensive.

Live plants are definitely better for the tank’s overall ecosystem, but I don’t know about which plants work best in a betta tank. Except I know they love marimo moss balls! Also, don’t bring in live plants cuz you have no idea what tiny eggs are hitching a ride (especially SNAILS).

Before getting fish, you should set up your tank with plants, substrate, a thermometer, filter, and heater. You can also get an overhead lid + lamp. Let the tank run for a while on it’s own so it stabilizes. My dad never did this when I was growing up but there’s also ways you can check salinity, pH, ammonia, etc.

When/if you do get your betta, you should keep it in a different smaller tank (ideally one that also has a filter + temperature setup) and monitor it for a few days. Lots of petstore fish are sick with all sorts of gross things and you don’t want to bring that into the other tank.

Sorry if you already knew all of this haha

omg thanks this is a huge help !!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Space Oddity

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (Fab Five)

Summary: Garth grew up in a carnival freakshow, and he never thought about the world outside the glass walls of the Aquarium until a group of kids befriended him. Their love and interest in finding his people might be the key to escaping the silent horrors of his home life at the carnival.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Garth of Shayeris, Donna Troy, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Original Character(s)

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tags: Carnival AU, Developing Friendships, Rescue, 60's AU, 70's AU, No Capes AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Childhood Trauma, Lies, Escape, Childhood Memories, Team Bonding, Fish out of Water, Tiny Garth, Beaches, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Road Trip, First Person POV, POV Garth of Shayeris

Chapter One: Fish Boy

Sometimes I can remember what my first home looked like. I remember the ocean. I remember the sky above me, the waves washing over my face, the sound of seagulls overhead. On other days, I can barely remember the taste of fish and seaweed on a summer’s day. I eat their strange food, but it’s familiar to me now. As far as I know, I’m the only one of my kind. I watch from my tank as people pass by. Some of them stop and look and wonder. Others point and make faces. It used to scare me. Sometimes it still does. I’m not allowed to come to the surface when we have guests. It makes me seem like a regular person when I breathe their air, and I wouldn’t mind it if I could hear what people say. They all look at me and move their mouths, but I can’t understand them through the water and the glass.

The man who found me said he’d had me since I was two or three. So, I think I was six years old the first time I saw her. The man didn’t talk much. But he taught me how to read and count after hours when the freak show called it quits for the night. I was their Aqualad, but I also overheard people call me the Fish Boy of Happy Harbor when they cleaned my tank. Everyone else had a real name outside of what they were on the stage, but I was the show’s property. My name was my title.

The Tattooed Man’s name is Luis, the Wolf Man’s name is Walter, and so on. Sometimes they came to see me. Some of them told me about life outside the Aquarium. I wasn’t allowed to leave the building, not that I’d get far. I never got to walk much further than the length of the Aquarium. Sometimes at night, the other folks from the show would visit and read to me until I sank to the bottom of my tank and fell asleep. I loved hearing their stories, but sometimes it frightened me.

We had dinner together in the Aquarium late after all the guests went home, and I sat outside my tank, eating and listening. It was the only time other than breakfast that we were all together. “Drink your milk, Fishy,” Eunice whispered as she pulled me onto her lap. I gripped my cup and drank my milk as Eunice requested.

I always ate dinner wrapped in a towel. It was the only time of day when I was dry. It was the only time of day when I was held. Eunice babied me, and I loved her for it. She stroked my cheek with her finger. “Fisher, give him another meatball. He’s a growing boy-.”

“You’re more than welcome to give him one of yours-.”

“Here, Fishy,” Walter whispered as he gave me half his last meatball. He held his hand under my chin and fed it to me.

“What do we say, Fishy?” Eunice asked. She liked to hear me talk. I was afraid to speak because I didn’t sound like anyone there. I’d never heard another child’s voice before. So, I always thought I sounded strange. “It’s alright…”

“Thank you,” I peeped.

Murray, the strong man, stared at me before glancing at Fisher. He was fairly new to the show. “How old is Fishy? And what’s his Christian name?” Murray questioned.

“Fishy doesn’t have a name. We call him Lad or Fish,” Fisher replied, “And he’s five or six maybe… I don’t know. I fished him out of the water three years ago.” I didn’t like hearing the story. I still had the scars back then and didn’t like feeling like the strangest oddity in the bunch. They all felt bad for me because they’d never seen anything like me. I shut my eyes and laid my head on Eunice’s chest. She rocked me as Fisher spoke.

“I was out fishing for dinner when I pulled up a net full of fish. At first, I heard this whining noise like the whippin’ of the wind, and when I opened the net, a tiny hand reached up from the midst of the fish…

“The nets cut him up pretty bad because he struggled like the dickens to get loose… I thought he might’ve fallen in the water, but he had on these funny-lookin’ kelp shorts, and his neck-. He had gills like a fish. I’d never seen anything like him. Once I got him loose of the fish and the net, he sat up, hollerin’ worse than any baby I’d ever heard. And the fish stopped their jumping and laid flat and still.

“When I got him home to the carnival, he’d nearly dried out, burning with fever, and I filled a tub with water, and he got to splashin’ and playin’ like nothing was wrong. So, I called him Fishy. Sometimes I called him Aqualad for the show once I got the tank together, though,” Fisher explained.

Eunice stood up, still holding me, and handed me over to someone else. “I think it’s time for Fishy to get to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” Eunice whispered. I didn’t want to open my eyes, so I kept them shut as I sank to the bottom of the tank. Then, they shut off the lights. I slept until the first summer’s crowd woke me in my tank.

It was early morning, and the guests ogled and snapped pictures, and some of the children pressed their faces against the glass. It frightened me, and I hid behind my rocks until Fisher came and glanced at me through the other side of the glass. I had to come out because I was the star. The crowds thinned out around lunchtime, and I never got lunch during the summer. I worked as long as there were people around.

But I wouldn’t have seen her if I took a break. She had to be my age because she was small like me. She held the hand of an older girl as she traveled through the Aquarium, and I swam beside them, hoping to grab their attention. Sometimes I did that to guests to get a closer look. She turned toward me and gasped. I couldn’t hear it through the glass, but I saw it on her face as she covered her mouth with both hands and stumbled backward into the older girl. I’d seen it hundreds of times. Most children were frightened, and some ridiculed me when they were that small, but she did something no one else had ever done. She stepped toward the glass and gestured with her hands for me to come close. I hid behind a boulder. The girl stepped even closer, beckoning me with a single finger. She held her hands over her heart to prove she meant no harm. I sank to the bottom of the tank and stepped toward the glass. She pressed her hand against the glass and smiled.

I placed my hand where hers was. Then, I used a trick I reserved for people that got close enough to feel it. I cooled the glass between our hands, not enough to harm the girl or crack the glass, but enough for her to know I did it. She giggled, lifting her palm away from the glass, looked at the older girl, and said something. Other guests came, and I had to leave, but I hoped she’d follow. When I returned, she was gone, and I wept bitterly. I’d never experienced loneliness or longing like that before, but it was quickly interrupted by the rapping of Fisher’s knuckles against the glass. A threat. No one wanted to pay money to see a sad freak. Fisher constantly warned me about seeming upset in front of guests, and this time was no different.

I stuck my thumb in my mouth and turned a few flips in the water to distract the guests from my short tantrum. Still, I missed the mystery girl and her sweet gesture. No guest had ever been that kind to me before. I thought about her so long after she’d gone that I forgot I was due for punishment from Fisher.

After the guests left, he fished me out of my tank —which was always terrifying. Then he gave me the speech. “See this strop here?” Fisher asked as he paced in front of me. I nodded. “I use it to sharpen my blade when I shave. It also makes a kid sharp.” He paused. “You gotta be sharp in this business, Fish. If this place goes under, where does that leave you? Huh? Do you like taking food out of all those people’s mouths? People are depending on you, Fishy. And now I have to punish you.”

I never ran. There was no point in running. I didn’t kick, scream, or fight. But boy, did I cry! Sometimes his punishments felt like they’d never end. I didn’t get supper that night. I hid in my little cave and cried myself to sleep.

[esconpanache]

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[mokartbox]

I cleaned up the map for the subgate au base and did little doodles of the drop-off under the moon pool and a diagram of how the overhead observatories work. Since they're 16 meters down from the surface, i figured ladders would be impractical, and a friend pointed out a lift would work and they ARE surrounded by water. Basically i'm saying Tav jury rigged a hydraulic lift to connect multipurpose rooms and observatories. Yes, the pumps are huge and i have not drawn them to scale. Yes Tav has claim on the cat poster. Yes Gale is jealous.

They only have one window in their room, with a desk in front of it so they might stare out over the creepvines and ponder machines. They also have a wall planter and two plants on either side of the bulkhead leading out into the hall, as well as a locker for personal items.

The storage and ready room is dominated by labelled lockers and fabricators, as well as spaces for everyone's wetsuits. Shadowheart's medbay/lab has an operation bay [a bench next to a bed, for when stiffness is needed], an isolation tank for studying fish, work tables, med kit fabricators, and water filtration. Largely because she demanded access to the most clean water for cleaning things and no one wanted to argue. The Farm/Alien Containment room is just that-- a bunch of planters and a slew of Peepers being bred for food. The enzyme they're accidentally cultivating in there is about the only reason they stave off the kharaa as long as they do.

The comms room is literally just a radio, a desk, and scanner data of the planet [for mapping purposes] on screens. They always have at least one person in comms when there are people out on excursions. This is often Gale, just so he doesn't have to look down. Which is also why he's often the only one left when Astarion gets into his Shenanigans.

Bonus, updated map with terrain:

[bitchdafuqyousay]

last night i had to go to the hospital. i had to go to the er cause of a still unidentified problem in my chest cavity causing discomfort in my heart and immense difficulty breathing. i sat in the waiting room, in a clean building with air conditioning n water immediately available to me. i was attended to quickly; there were several staff who came to see me, run scans, take blood for testing, do an ekg, take an x-ray. last night i had to go to hospital, n it was a sterile environment with plenty of water to keep the doctors n nurses’ hands clean, so they could attend to me without worry of germs or bacteria getting to me n making whatever was wrong worse. there was no shortage of light, no shortage of fuel to keep the machines running for me n everyone else who was in that er, sick or injured in need of help.

last night i had to go to the hospital, n all i could think of while gasping for breath n clutching my chest from the pressure of my rapid heart beat, was how fucking lucky i was. oh my god how lucky am i? i can come here. the roads are free of shelled cars, bodies, n the remnants of buildings. no tanks or occupational forces with guns n grenades waiting to wipe me n my family off the face of the earth for so much as moving in their line of sight. how lucky am i, that i could sit in an er waiting room without the worry that some bastard is gonna throw a flash bang or grenade through the door for no reason other than to cause torment- that at no point did i fear a round of missiles from the sky whenever i heard a plane or helicopter overhead. how lucky am i, that i went there with my mother n there was no imminent danger to us, that after things were said n done, after receiving care from nurses n doctors with an abundance of water n clean tools at their disposal, i could go home- my home would still be there. the family waiting for me to come back would still be there. how lucky am i to not have to worry about returning to a pile of rubble? how lucky am i. to know that if by some godforsaken chance, someone did raid the hospital i was at, someone did drop a fucking missile on it, the entire world would point n jeer at the perpetrators. they’d call them what they were: terrorists, war criminals, monsters. they wouldn’t celebrate my n the all the other patients deaths, the death of the hardworking hospital staff n the destruction of the building. a crumbled, despaired graveyard that used to be a place of help n healing. how lucky am i, to be on the side of the world people fucking care about.

[skyfcx]

044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance .

Anything's better than Eggman's aquariums || Prompt

     No robots, no perilous threat. Nothing trying to kill him, nor is there anyone in need of saving within his immediate vicinity! No lab work, no projects to be seen... He hadn't even received a single 'PLEASE DRINK WATER' reminder ping from Nicole this entire day thus far!

     Boy, is this what a day off felt like? The fox could hardly believe it! Apparently, he and Sonic had saved the owner of this aquarium from an Eggman attack somewhere in the past, because after a bout of cleaning the lab, two tickets to the Seaside Sights Aquarium were discovered lodged in between the crevices of a desk and the wall it had been pressed up against! Imagine the shock on the kit's face after discovering those out of the blue!

     And so far, after cashing those tickets in with Sonic in tow, it had been a lovely venture! It was funny, though. You'd think that after the sorts of journeys he and his friend group had gone on, something as mundane as an aquarium would be old news and a short-order recipe for nothing but boredom. But you'd be surprised how much of a difference being shot at by killer robots makes when it comes to enjoying the sights and sounds you find yourself surrounded by during travel.

     Having the chance to properly breathe and soak in the setting was night and day. Here and there would a finger point like a simple excitable child, a glance to Sonic to see if he was near before throwing sights back to the surrounding marine life. "Ooh, hey! Look at that one up there! That's a Yellowtail Damselfish! Y'know, despite how pretty they are, they're actually pretty aggressive! I guess that's why such a small fish is in a tank that big, it discourages territoriality when there's so much space to go around."

     And it wouldn't be a trip without Tails doing the aquarium workers' jobs for them by chiming in every ten to fifteen seconds with a brand new fun fish fact, would it? "Wow...! Heya Sonic, check this one out. That over there is the Shortfin Mako Shark, the fastest shark in the world! Sounds like Big Blue might have some steep competition in the deep blue! Hah!"

[luckylittt]

Pi Xiu in Feng Shui: Uses and Placement

Pi Xiu Feng Shui Uses

1. Guard Home and Ward Off Evil Spirits

Placing a consecrated Pi Xiu at home acts as a protective talisman, guarding your family and attracting good fortune. The two-antlered Pi Xiu is particularly effective at warding off evil spirits, while the one-antlered version, known as Tian Lu, excels in attracting wealth.

2. Bring Good Fortune

Pi Xiu is renowned for enhancing financial luck, making it ideal for both employees and entrepreneurs. Positioning it strategically at home or in your workplace can significantly improve your financial prospects.

3. Draw Money and Gather Wealth

If you face challenges in job hunting or financial management, wearing a Pi Xiu bracelet can be beneficial. This powerful symbol helps generate income and protects your wealth from losses.

4. Drive Away Misfortune

Pi Xiu can counteract the misfortune associated with the Five Yellow, particularly in home Feng Shui. This is especially useful for mitigating unexplained financial losses.

In Feng Shui, Pi Xiu comes in male and female forms; the male symbolizes wealth acquisition while the female signifies wealth preservation. A pair of Pi Xiu is recommended to maximize their benefits.

Selection of Material

When choosing a Pi Xiu, materials like crystal, emerald, gold, silver, and bronze are considered most auspicious for attracting wealth. Interestingly, statistics show that wearers of Pi Xiu have lower accident rates compared to those with gold or silver alone.

Best Placement for Your Pi Xiu

Placement is crucial in Feng Shui, as improper arrangements can lead to negative effects:

1. Facing Windows or Doors

Ensure that your Pi Xiu faces a window or door to maximize its wealth-attracting capabilities.

2. Avoid the Bedroom

It's best to place Pi Xiu in the living room, which serves as the "Central Palace" of home Feng Shui. If that's not possible, the largest window sill is a good alternative.

3. Front Door Placement

Do not position Pi Xiu facing the front door, as this area is managed by the God of Wealth. Other doors, however, are fine for placement.

4. Avoid Facing the Bed

Placing Pi Xiu facing your bed can create adverse effects.

5. Avoid Overhead Placement

Do not place Pi Xiu above your head, as it will not effectively gather wealth for you.

6. Avoid Mirrors

Keep Pi Xiu away from mirrors to prevent reflected sunlight from diminishing its energy.

7. Other Restrictions

Avoid placing Pi Xiu facing fish tanks, Buddha statues, or beams, and do not position it in front of a computer.

8. Maintain Its Position

Once positioned, avoid moving Pi Xiu frequently. Use a red cloth to cover its head before cleaning.

9. Offer Water

Place a cup of water in front of Pi Xiu, as it thrives on water—just ensure the water level is below its head.

10. Use Incense

Expose your Pi Xiu to daily incense to enhance its wealth-attracting energy.

11. Limit the Number of Pi Xiu

Having multiple Pi Xiu can lead to conflict among them; one or two is typically sufficient.

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Leading Process Design & Automation | Quintessential Systems

 Quintessential Systems, formerly known as Process Design Group, has been at the forefront of delivering innovative process systems for over two decades. Their expertise spans various specialized areas, from metal finishing systems to wastewater treatment solutions. Here’s an exploration of the critical technologies and systems they offer, which are essential in modern industrial settings.

Process Systems Engineering

Process Systems Engineering (PSE) is the backbone of efficient industrial operations, and it plays a crucial role in optimizing manufacturing systems. At Quintessential Systems, PSE involves designing, analyzing, and implementing integrated systems to enhance productivity and sustainability. By developing customized systems tailored to specific industrial needs, they help streamline processes across various sectors, such as aerospace, defense, and manufacturing.

Metal Finishing Systems

Metal finishing systems are integral to industries that require durable and aesthetically pleasing surface finishes on metal products. Quintessential Systems excels in providing advanced metal finishing systems, including automated cleaning, degreasing, and paint stripping processes. Their custom-designed systems ensure that each product receives a high-quality finish, which enhances durability and corrosion resistance. For example, the metal finishing lines they implemented for the Corpus Christi Army Depot demonstrate their capability in large-scale automated systems.

Aluminum Anodizing Systems

Aluminum anodizing systems are critical for industries that rely on corrosion-resistant aluminum parts. Anodizing not only enhances the metal’s durability but also improves its aesthetic properties. Quintessential Systems specializes in providing both manual and automated anodizing lines. A notable project includes the installation of a manual anodizing line at Precision Machine of Savannah, which included semi-automatic tank covers and enhanced operator control. Their anodizing solutions help businesses like PMS maintain in-house control of surface treatment, improving operational efficiency.

Wastewater Treatment Systems

As industries continue to prioritize environmental responsibility, wastewater treatment systems are crucial. Quintessential Systems offers closed-loop wastewater treatment solutions, which are designed to minimize environmental impact by recycling and treating wastewater efficiently. These systems reduce waste and operational costs while ensuring compliance with environmental regulations. Quintessential Systems’ expertise in closed-loop treatment, as seen in their work with Precision Machine, helps companies manage water resources effectively and sustainably.

Custom Hoist Systems

To enhance automation and safety in industrial processes, custom hoist systems are a vital solution. Quintessential Systems designs and installs hoists tailored to specific requirements. For instance, the overhead hoist systems they provided for aerospace and defense projects automate the handling of heavy parts, reducing manual labor and increasing safety. Their hoist systems are often integrated into larger process systems, providing seamless operational efficiency.

Chemical Etching Systems

Chemical etching is another surface treatment process used to engrave or create patterns on metals. Quintessential Systems specializes in chemical etching systems, which are designed to handle a wide range of materials and part sizes. Their systems allow manufacturers to achieve highly detailed surface finishes with minimal waste. The precision offered by these systems is especially beneficial in industries such as electronics and aerospace, where intricate designs are required.

Exhaust Systems Design

Energy efficiency and air quality are key considerations in industrial environments. Quintessential Systems has developed advanced exhaust systems to manage hazardous emissions and reduce energy consumption. Their exhaust systems are integrated with automated tank covers that open and close based on operational needs, reducing unnecessary ventilation and conserving energy, as seen in their work for the Corpus Christi Army Depot.

Surface Finishing Equipment

Quintessential Systems provides a wide range of surface finishing equipment, from degreasing tanks to anodizing systems, tailored to meet the specific needs of industries. This equipment ensures that metal products receive the right surface treatment, improving their longevity, appearance, and performance. Their surface finishing solutions are designed for durability and ease of operation, allowing businesses to maintain high standards in product quality.

Automated Cleaning Systems

In high-demand industries, automated cleaning is essential for maintaining equipment and product quality. Quintessential Systems has implemented automated cleaning systems that streamline processes, reduce manual labor, and ensure consistent cleanliness. For example, the automated cleaning lines they installed in Corpus Christi Army Depot involved extensive stainless steel tanks and automated hoists, reducing operational time and increasing efficiency.

Closed-Loop Systems

Finally, closed-loop systems are essential for reducing waste and improving the environmental impact of industrial processes. By recycling and reusing water and chemicals within the manufacturing line, closed-loop systems can drastically cut down on waste and resource consumption. Quintessential Systems has integrated closed-loop solutions into many of its designs, providing both cost savings and environmental benefits to clients.

Conclusion

Quintessential Systems has established itself as a leader in process systems engineering, driving innovation in metal finishing systems, aluminum anodizing systems, wastewater treatment systems, and more. By integrating custom hoist systems, closed-loop wastewater treatment, and advanced surface finishing equipment, they continue to set the standard for efficiency, sustainability, and precision in industrial process design. Their commitment to cutting-edge solutions ensures that they remain at the forefront of their industry, providing clients with tailored, state-of-the-art systems that deliver long-term value.

For more information, visit 7-Qs.com.

[ktronicsglobal7]

Sump to Overhead Tank Controller in Chennai - Ktronics Global

Sump to Overhead Tank Controller in Chennai: Efficient Water Management 

In Chennai, where the water supply is adequate and sometimes altogether regulated, proper water management systems have become very essential for households as well as business institutions. One of the systems, that has proved to be of immense help, is the Sump to Overhead Tank Controller. The system automatically pumps water from the sump to the overhead tank, which is a low-level storage tank that ensures efficient conveyance of water with no waste and interference.

With increasing demand for water management solutions, Ktronics Global, a leading manufacturer of water level controllers, has innovatively designed such systems to suit every residential, commercial, and industrial client. In this blog, we will be discussing how sump to overhead tank controllers work, their applications, and why they stand to be the preferred choice in Chennai.

Overview of Sump to Overhead Tank Controllers

Such a system consists of an automatic sump-to-overhead tank controller in continuous measurement and regulation of water level between sump and overhead tank levels. A case in point is where, if the water in the overhead tank falls below a particular level, it will automatically turn on the pump to pump the water from the sump into the overhead tank. Automatically, it switches the pump off when the overhead tank is filled. This helps in avoiding overflow, thus saving water from being wasted.

It automates this much-feared chore of manually switching pumps on and off and thus avoids even scope for human error. Such controllers ensure regular, steady, and reliable supplies of water in cities like Chennai, where water supply is highly irregular. This kind of controller saves water by conserving this vital resource.

Applications of Sump to Overhead Tank Controllers

Application sectors of the sump to overhead tank controllers in Chennai range from residential homes to apartment complexes, commercial buildings, and industrial setups. The systems ensure great benefits in the field of efficient water distribution.  Some of the key applications are :

1. Residential Homes

Water level management from the sump to the overhead tank is a routine job in residential homes, especially in independent houses and villas. Conventionally, the homeowner would have to switch on the water pump every time the overhead tank runs low and, if forgotten, could result in overflows. Controllers of Sump to overhead tanks would automate the task, thereby freeing the homeowners from keeping a constant lookout at the levels.

This is very helpful in Chennai, where most families depend either on the water coming out of the ground from the borewell or water tankers and are very unsure of when the water supply will be given. With an automatic controller in place, there is assurance that the overhead tanks will always be sufficiently full without creating any chance of overflow and damaging the pump.

2. Apartment Complexes

The water distribution mechanism from the common sump to multiple overhead tanks can be very complicated in large apartment complexes. Hundreds of residents reside in these buildings, and a regular supply of water is essentially the prime priority of the people. An automatic sump to overhead tank controller therefore becomes imperative for these kinds of premises as it simplifies the task of managing water mechanisms for an entire building.

It also can handle multiple tanks and pumps with the advanced controllers of Ktronics Global. The computerized system eliminates manual interference from the maintenance staff, saves the risk of human error, and saves wastage of water - a very crucial element in big residential complexes.

3. Commercial Buildings

Office buildings, shopping malls, and a host of other business operations need a day-to-day supply of water. Be it at the toilet, in the kitchen, or for cleaning purposes, water should be available at all times. In commercial establishments where water demand is very high, there are a lot of inefficiencies and wastage of water if sump and overhead tank water levels are managed manually, which even disrupts operations.

The sump to overhead tank controller can handle the functions of supplying water to the overhead tanks without any supervision. Automation is very useful in commercial settings where any disruption in the supply of water adversely affects the business.

4. Industries and Factories

Many industries and factories have great demands for water, used in many ways: cooling, cleaning, and manufacturing purposes. For the smooth running of such premises, the optimum level of water has to be maintained inside the establishments so that no problems crop up during operations. Water distribution can be managed with much efficiency by an automated sump to overhead tank controller so as not to stop the production processes due to a lack of water.

The industrial water level controllers have heavy-duty requirements for factories and industrial plants, efficient always at any surge demands of water.

5. Hotels and Hospitality Sector

Hotel and resort businesses require uninterruptedly supplied water in comfort for their guests. From swimming pools down to restrooms and kitchens, highly needed water keeps the business running. A sump to overhead tank controller ensures a smooth operation of the water management system of the hotel to avoid inconveniencing the guests.

For instance, with the Automatic Water Level Controller in Chennai each hotel is assured to have water at any given moment it is needed by guests without anyone checking or interfering with it manually.

6. Hospitals and Healthcare Facilities

Water use is very continuous in all hospitals and healthcare facilities, be it for purposes of sanitization, cleaning, laundry, or any other crucial operations. Again, the same water has great importance in ensuring that the overhead tanks are always full to maintain good standards of hygiene and patient care. A sump to overhead tank controller can automatically monitor the overflow of water level to ensure that health facilities will never experience a shortage of water.

In an environment where hygiene and cleanliness play a very important role, this is a place where automation in water management systems can make a great deal of difference by allowing seamless operations. It has worked in such environments, catering to a wide array of industries.

Conclusion

With Ktronics Global, one is not just investing in a product but in a future of smarter, more sustainable water management. Whether it be for a house owner looking to reduce water wastage or a business needing efficient solutions for large-scale uses of water, Ktronics Global has the experience and products required for such a multitude.

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Best water tank cleaning services in Dhaka

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Master Professionals: Our group comprises of prepared experts with broad involvement in cleaning all sorts of water tanks, counting overhead, underground, and mechanical tanks. We utilize the most recent gear and procedures to guarantee each inch of your tank is spotless.

Comprehensive Cleaning Handle: Our cleaning handle includes depleting the tank, cleaning the insides, evacuating silt, flotsam, and jetsam, and sanitizing with endorsed sanitizers. We pay uncommon consideration to hard-to-reach regions to guarantee a careful clean.

Wellbeing and Security: Clean water is pivotal for your wellbeing. We utilize eco-friendly and non-toxic cleaning operators that are secure for both your tank and the environment, guaranteeing that your water remains immaculate and free from contaminants.

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