#you are perfectly welcome to take these images out of context

[aerkame]

Alright I read your request rules and I’m ready to request!

Wally Darling x Curious Reader

You know that little fic you made where you wrote the puppets coming into the real world? (I commented on it!)——I hope you wouldn’t mind me trying to branch off it! Imaging it happening to me, I would actually like to inspect Wally since he’s clearly not human. Of course, with consent. I would open his mouth- see what’s inside, touch his felt, his hair, all of it.

And I’d imagine he’d be curious about us too.

Sorry for this being a bit late, I wanted a short break from writing and drawing all day. Also I'm perfectly fine with that being branched off of! Most of my previous posts are kind of like foundations for future fics and requests to go off of.

Also for the sake of simplicity I will just call this an AU(Alternate Universe). The Alive AU. It's exactly what it sounds like, the puppets come to life but as their cartoon selves in the real world and are capable of going back to their own world at any time. (Wally needs to do that though or they're stuck, he knows what he's doing). I'm also doing this so that in the future when we do have answers to Welcome Home, it won't interfere with theories or what is considered "canon". This request is based on a previous post (linked below this), for context.

Just a Little Look

___________________________________________________________

Out of all the other 'puppets', Wally was the one you were most curious and cautious about. It wasn't that he ate differently, it wasn't because his eyes looked different from the rest, and it wasn't because he was always staring at you. No, it was the way he acted. He acted like he's done this before. The whole going into this world and not being a normal puppet bit. You decided that you might as well ask Wally if you could feel him or look inside his mouth...maybe not that first one though, that might come out as weird to him and the others. It's not like he had a reason to say no really, you were just curious.

The 'puppet' with an Elvis cut was sitting down on your couch one leg crossed over the other like the distinguished dude that he was, face buried in a newspaper from this morning. You don't remember teaching him how to read the newspaper, where did he even get that? "Hey Wally..." You shuffled your foot a bit, getting somewhat anxious. "Can I look in your mouth?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from reading the paper with an almost dreamy look to him. "Can I look in your mouth?" You repeated the question, this time he heard you as his head tilted to the side. "Now what would you want to look in my mouth for?" His voice was as calm as usual, though he did have a bit of a smirk today.

"I'm just curious is all, you're not like the others and I've never seen what you guys look like on the inside." You gestured to the inside of your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Wally slowly got up from the couch and leaned over you, smirk still lingering on his face. "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll only let you look inside me if you let me look inside you." You nodded, excited to finally get a look. "Alright, sounds fair." You responded as Wally folded up the newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table.

Bending down, Wally opened his mouth quite a bit to let you look, making a small "Ahhh~" like a child would when letting a doctor look at their throat. You peered over to see inside. It was what a normal puppet mouth would look like save for the small black void at the back of the 'throat'. You're not even going to question how Wally speaks or eats, nothing surprises you anymore at this point. Kind of weird to see what is basically a tiny void though.

He closed his mouth once you were done looking before leaning closer to softly grab your face in his hands. It wasn't what you'd thought it'd feel like. You were expecting something like felt, but that wasn't it. It was some other material you've never felt before, it was soft and smooth like silk, but not in a sense that it was fabric. "I believe it's my turn to see the inside of your mouth now." You nodded quietly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, showing off your canines and molars.

It was awkwardly quiet in the living room for a while and you slowly found yourself leaning further and further into the soft hands that held your head up earning a small chuckle from Wally. "Tired?" You nodded. It's been a rough week both from your job getting busy and you being busy at the house trying to keep your new guests out of trouble. "It's like I'm taking care of a bunch of kids.." You mumbled into his hands.

"How about you take a good nap then, you'll be up and full of that energy you need." There it was again. You could feel him staring at you with those eyes. You were too tired to say anything this time though and opted for just getting up and heading to your room. Leaving behind a still smirking Wally.

____________________________________________________________

I told you guys, I write medium to long posts even if they take a while.

Next up? Barnaby and Wally teach the dear reader how to slow dance. :)

[fightingsail]

I am running a free community event on dog behaviour and communication for my rural town - just a small session showing various ways dogs express themselves, help identify actual aggression, discomfort, etc.

I would like to run a slideshow showing some of the expressions - for example, grimaces, whale eye, tense mouths and eyes, relaxed facial expressions and anything of that nature.

If you have any photos or could take some of your dogs expressing themselves, I would be super grateful if you'd send them through - this event will not be recorded or published, the images will be used in a powerpoint presentation and not provided to any members of the public.

I intend on staking out the local vet to get some shots, and of course I have tons of my own - but as we all know, various breeds display things in ways that look very different! a hard stare on my toy poodle is going to be a bit scarier and obvious on a doberman or staffy, and a loose happy face will be easier to spot on a bordercollie versus a bulldog!

i'd like a decent variety so i can show how obvious signs of frustration and aggression can be ignored in some breeds - and why a perfectly happy relaxed dog is assumed to be aggressive based on common misconceptions.

the email for photos is thesavvyselkie@gmail.com - background info on the photo, what the dog was doing, experience, whatever, because context matters!

short videos would also be super welcome!

[rynnthefangirl]

You've given me a sermon and I still think the same thing, you have no idea how a succession to the throne works, and again the responsibility for all the evils falls on Aegon and Viserys, and I will never see them as ornaments or call them usurpers, as you have done, for asking for their own.

It's not a question of me caring who Rhaenyra sleeps with or if she's married or not, but this is not the 21st century in its CONTEXT those children have no right to a throne, and it seems a little naive to me that you believe that Corlys, putting up with the horns the size of a castle that his son wore, would not assume/demand that Jace reign with the surname Velaryon.

The intentions of sending your brothers away when Joffrey and Rhaena are perfectly safe in the Vale I will always question, sorry, at best it's just stupidity, which is more than enough reason for me to believe that he would make a terrible king, even if he didn't have to be one in the first place.

Your image of Aegon and Viserys as two dead plants does not coincide with mine 🤷🏼‍♀️ and I still think the same. The responsibility of not starting a war of succession does not fall on them, but on their half-brothers, who are not required to maintain stability and think of others. Besides Aegon and Viserys being right with their claim would be guaranteeing a well-being that Jace could not, they were also intelligent and capable, they would not have such stupid ideas as giving dragons to strangers.

For your information, Aegon and Viserys are my favorite characters, ahead of their parents, and part of the reason why I support Daemyra is because of the birth of these boys who are the best thing that happened to the dynasty after years of shit. Again, the colloquium about monarchies and how bad they are was not necessary, contextualize! We are talking about a hypothetical scenario that takes place in a medieval fantasy, not our current reality, where I am not interested in what you think and you should not be interested in what I think.

Also you assume that a tremendous war would break out, and you give Aegon and Viserys the position of Aegon II in the dance.... are you serious? Particular way of liking their characters, Aegon II opposed a legitimate heir, Aegon and Viserys would oppose an illegitimate son of their mother who would not have to be in the line of succession, besides it is possible that they did not want to advocate for a war from the beginning and that they will try a peaceful approach, if Jace does not decide to step aside (knowing that he has no right to be in the line of succession, these are the rules of the game and they know it, Rhaenyra too, that's why they want to hide the sun with a finger and they do not advocate for the rights of bastards to inherit or be legitimized with their mother's surname, but they remain silent for two reasons, out of shame, because they are still people of their time, and because no one would accept a public admission that they are going to be ruled by a bastard, in addition to the fact that it would be treason) it is his responsibility, it is not comparable to the case of Rhaenyra and Aegon II, and yes dear, welcome to Westeros, it is a sexist society since you have told me something about passing the Targaryen through the maternal line counts less and blah blah blah, well yes, unfortunately that is how it is, the plot of Dorne, as you can understand...has so little to do with the rest of Westeros that I'm going to pretend I haven't read it. If a dance had not happened I see that for you Aegon and Viserys would be a random fourth and fifth son, and not the legitimate heirs to the iron throne, I suppose that those fourth and fifth sons also deal with the humiliation of an illegitimate son of your mother being ahead of you at the time of inheriting the crown.

I see them as resilient men, with determination, who think about the people but also about the good of their house, they literally tried to bring back the dragons because they knew how important they were for the Targaryen house despite their bad experiences with them, they were fair, they had a good heart but they knew how to be tough when required. To me, zero proactive characters don't seem interesting and in your eyes it's what they are, I almost have to be thankful that the dance happened, otherwise my favorite characters would have been lost in the annals of history as a random fourth and fifth son while Jace "Velaryon" keeps what belongs to them.

It is useless to make you understand the point, we simply have very different views of the matter, I blame those who keep what does not belong to them, you blame those who ask for theirs, and you like them for very different reasons than I do. We have reached the same old speech of calling me a racist in a hidden way for liking the distinctive features of the Targaryens (I do not deny it) the silver hair and the purple eyes because they give them a supernatural look that I love, but that wasn't the point, at this moment I already know that it is talking to a wall 🤷🏼‍♀️

And yes, legitimacy matters, thank you Daemon for marrying Rhaenyra and thus ensuring that your children had a safe existence in a medieval society where being a bastard is highly punished and stigmatized, with that alone you did more than the parents of the "Velaryon princes" for their success in life and so that they did not depend on the charity and silence of others, and yes, well, if it makes me a toxic Daemyra stan to prefer that they be together from the beginning, that Rhaenyra have legitimate children from the beginning that she doesn't have to lie about and that she is in a marriage that she wanted and in which she would be happy, I'm sorry (I say this for the other anon you received who can't stand the 4 fans of Aegon and Viserys who defend their place, but well, it's just that we can't stand that a brown-haired child is ahead of a silver-haired one, reductionism at its finest)

Goodbye, I have seen that we have irreconcilable positions.

You've given me a sermon and I still think the same thing

And you have replied with an even longer sermon, and I still think then same thing.

Your image of Aegon and Viserys as two dead plants does not coincide with mine 🤷🏼‍♀️

So not having ambition for the throne that they would risk starting a civil war for = dead plants?

Also you assume that a tremendous war would break out, and you give Aegon and Viserys the position of Aegon II in the dance.... are you serious?

Yeah, because every time anyone has usurped the throne, it has caused war. So in an imaginary scenario where Aegon were to crown himself after Rhaenyra's death, that at the very least risks warfare breaking out. If not between him and Jace, then their children...

And yes, the person who crowns themself against the will of the previous monarch would be doing what the Greens did. I'm not comparing them to Aegon II though because Aegon and Viserys never did such a thing.

Besides it is possible that they did not want to advocate for a war from the beginning and that they will try a peaceful approach.

I would have zero issue whatsoever if they tried a peaceful approach. The hypothetical I am disagreeing against is a violent grab for power, which I would not support no matter how "rightful" they are.

Yes dear, welcome to Westeros, it is a sexist society since you have told me something about passing the Targaryen through the maternal line counts less and blah blah blah, well yes, unfortunately that is how it is

A- you don't have to be condescending. Don't call me "dear". And honestly, it is amazing to me that you are TB. Because everything you think it just re-packaged Team Green rhetoric. Including the idea that sexism isn't something we should support changing in Westerso because that's just "how it is".

The plot of Dorne, as you can understand...has so little to do with the rest of Westeros that I'm going to pretend I haven't read it.

You mean pointing out that there is already an example of how names will pass down the female line that the Iron Throne knows of and could emulate?

And not the legitimate heirs to the iron throne, I suppose that those fourth and fifth sons also deal with the humiliation of an illegitimate son of your mother being ahead of you at the time of inheriting the crown.

See the thing is, for people that love their family more than they love the concept of blood purity and legitimacy, then it isn't actually a humiliation for your older brother to ascend the throne.

To me, zero proactive characters don't seem interesting and in your eyes it's what they are.

There are other ways to be proactive other than just caring about the throne. The throne is not everything in life, it is not the all important thing that you are an empty meaningless character if you don't pursue it at all costs.

We have reached the same old speech of calling me a racist in a hidden way for liking the distinctive features of the Targaryens (I do not deny it)

It's calling you racist to point out that blood purity appears to be an important factor for you? Is it not an important factor? Did I misunderstand?

Goodbye, I have seen that we have irreconcilable positions.

Yes, goodbye and good riddance! Though I do highly recommend you check out Team Green! They have such wonderful ideas as:

-Aegon II is justified in usurping the throne because it is his birthright and the chosen heir of the previous ruler means nothing

-Male primogeniture and sexism is just how things are in Westeros, so that means 21st century viewers don't need to be at all against it

-Having bastards is the worst thing ever and bastards are inferior and we should 100% use that against them

I think you might find some stuff you like there!

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

what do you think about soljae and "what is grief if not love persevering"? i feel like there is so much to unpack here, especially if you take into consideration how the different-timelines sol and sunjae would have equally different takes as well

hi, nonie! i see you have come across the (in)famous quote from 'wandavision.'

regardless of its source; a beautiful line is a beautiful line; — and i have a special relationship to the act of mourning: i believe that grief is just love with no place else to go. there's a line from fleabag that i truly adore: "i don't know what to do with it — with all the love i have for her. i don't know where to put it now." which can be perfectly applied to the sunjae of the OG timeline, & the sol that erased all of his memories.

where to put a love that no longer knows its own name? to be in love with a memory is one thing; to love a ghost — the faded silhouette of a person that no longer exists: entirely another. to be in love with a past that has lost color, shape, form — leaving only a whisper of proof that it was once here. leaving nothing but a faint glow, an after-image of the most sacred devotion. to long for a body that no longer recognizes your touch.

sol knows this well — this is her grief.

where to put a love that doesn't believe it even deserves to exist?

to love someone in secret — with no hope, no chance of it ever being requited. the guilt of not being able to save the one girl you could never forget — to bear the brand of her name, her memory; in silence. to always wish for another chance, another conversation, another look at her. one last opportunity to get it right.

(OG timeline) sunjae knows this well: this is his grief.

above all, sol and sunjae (across all possible timelines) share this grief: the grief of unfulfilled promise; unrealized possibility. of loving beyond all limits yet never being able to keep that love. to make it last.

grief is just love with no place else to go — when there are no arms to hold against your loneliness. grief is just love that endures — across space, across time, across the loss of memory.

grief says (which is also what sol and sunjae say to each other): "i refuse to give this up. i refuse to give you up. i welcome this ache. i welcome you, no matter the cost."when you see this in the context of the ending of ep 15, it's heartbreakingly beautiful: sunjae regains all his memories, and despite knowing how every timeline turned out for him, chooses to love sol anyway.

to run to her.

every single time, he chooses love: no matter what grief may come of it.

[password-door-lock]

Unknown is full of rage. Of course, that isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Most of the time, anger is the only concrete emotion that he can name and separate from the constant pressure in his chest, the blend of feelings which converge inside his rib cage whether he wants them there or not. Rage, however, he is perfectly content with feeling. Rage, however, he will cling to, ride as far as it will take him as he chases down revenge. Rage, however, bleeds at the edges, frays like old fabric, the ends of the jeans he wore as a teenager. Rage, however, covers all of his bases in every situation but this one. Until now, it’s been good enough. 

He refuses to register the something else that makes his heartbeat speed up as he watches you through the webcam. This is Unknown’s favorite sight, a close second in his fantasies to the mental image he has conjured up of the moment when he finally gets his revenge. Your hair is wet, messy, uncombed; you’re wearing a baggy old T-shirt, something from some event you went to years ago, in a color that does not flatter you, along with loose athletic shorts that leave absolutely everything to the imagination. Your posture is bad and your face is blotchy, scrubbed raw with one of the many products you use on your skin but not cared for in the slightest after that. He watches your reactions to the seemingly meaningless images on your screen, snippets of short videos or memes which require social context that he does not possess.

Unknown is the only one who gets to see you like this, the only person in the world who is party to such intimate and private moments. Sure, the RFA members get to see your selfies, highly choreographed, and in some cases even edited to make them more artful, more appealing. Your coworkers and classmates, from whom you have been absent for several days now, see you in uniform or in your best outfits, carefully curated to fit whatever image you need to portray. Unknown, however, is entitled to look at you when you think that no one’s watching, the only time that you are truly, openly yourself. He enjoys the rawness of it, the roughness, the glimpse into your innocent little heart as you giggle about inane nonsense alone in a stranger’s bedroom. 

Most of all, however, he enjoys the power. The control, the fact that he can see you whenever he wants, that he’s the only one who can watch you this way. That redhead monitors the living room camera, probably thinking about how badly he wants to use and manipulate you as he watches you go about your day. And you’re well aware of that, of course; Unknown has seen you fixing your hair in the bedroom mirror, laboring for minutes on end choosing your daily outfits, presumably to ensure that they are to Luciel’s liking. You poor, stupid thing— can’t you see that you’re being taken advantage of? Can’t you see that you’re going to get in trouble, going to get hurt, going to get strung along and toyed with until that liar inevitably tires of you? But maybe you’re scared of that already. Maybe you have the wherewithal to sense that you are in danger all the time here, that Luciel is not to be trusted, that he could get rid of you with a few keystrokes, if that were really what he wanted. Either way, even Luciel has no way of looking into your bedroom, no way of seeing you in this vulnerable state. Unknown made sure when he hacked your webcam that it would be off-limits to anybody else. That’s something reserved for him, as proof that he is the only person who will ever truly possess such a useful tool.

That’s what you are to Unknown, among other things, of course: a tool, primarily. Your job is to be obedient, to follow the instructions that you’re given and see to it that the RFA hosts another party. You’re a pawn, a set of eyes that Unknown can use to gain access to the inner workings of the RFA. In how they talk to you, he learns even more about their thoughts and motivations, how best to lure them to Magenta and welcome them to the paradise. Of course, they’re all horrible people, and they’re all too willing to take advantage of your sudden arrival and your giving nature. Things might not end very well for you if you’re foolish enough to pursue a romantic relationship with any of them. 

At least Unknown wants to offer you some compensation, to bring you to paradise as a reward for doing your work. Granted, your job is easy enough that a computer could complete it, but, then again, computers are neither cute nor entertaining. Unknown chose you for a reason, after all: just as he predicted, you caught the RFA members off guard. All of them were too busy drooling over you to think very hard about the implications of having their app hacked by a malicious outsider. But Unknown would be lying if he said that your looks weren’t his type, too. Well, he reminds himself as he watches you, the world has no shortage of idiots, no shortage of people who take direction well and lack the instincts for basic self preservation, but ultimately, when he picked you, Unknown was choosing somebody he’d want by his side following the completion of his task. 

He likes to look at you, for what it’s worth— and he finds himself chuckling under his breath at the messages you send to those liars in the chat. You’re a fool, of course, and it’s hard to feel bad about luring you into that apartment when you crossed a city to get there and typed the code in almost entirely of your own volition. It goes without saying that Unknown has no intention of changing any of his plans on your account— no, you’re going to do your job, and then he’s going to save you, and then you’re going to thank him for delivering you from that hellhole of an on organization, and then, finally, finally, he’s going to get his revenge. His rage still guides him, still drags him around on a leash much tighter than the one that his Savior holds, still pushes his fingers to pound against the keys even when his body is screaming at him to throw in the towel and eat something or sleep— that much is never going to change. But these days, as he studies you, Unknown also feels… something else, a sentiment with no name, one that floats inside his stomach and flutters in his chest, one that makes him seriously consider abandoning his work for an hour or so to liberate you from that place prematurely.

Well, whatever, he thinks, minimizing the window that’s been showing him the CCTV feed from the Savior’s old apartment. After he brings you to Magenta, he’ll be able to watch you all he wants— for now, however, Unknown has a job to do, and he can’t put his plans on hold for anything or anyone.

[peaches2217]

how would the bros' royal lovers feel about their post-partum bodies? of course, we all know they'd find peach/peas to still be beautiful no matter what, but would there be a level of self-consciousness there? this is the most wholesome stuff and you're giving me fictional baby fever, too!

Anon, I am so glad you asked! (And welcome to the club! 🥳)

TW: Body dysmorphia and related topics

Peasley doesn’t care. He knows he’s hot shit, no matter what he looks like. He’d dramatically strip naked for Luigi and say some shit like “Behold! This is the body which grew and nurtured our child, divinity itself!” and Luigi would be like “Hell yeah :D ” If anything, Luigi might end up worrying about his own appearance, since he’s normally so well-groomed; he’d lament that his hair and mustache look untidy because he’s just too tired from late nights with the baby to put as much thought as normal into his appearance, and Peasley would assure him that he’s just as handsome now as always.

“I don’t look quite the same as I did this time last year either, you know,” says the guy who, objectively speaking, looks way worse for the wear, “yet I’m still the physical embodiment of perfection. You’re no different, my love.” Luigi is one of the few people Peasley thinks of more highly than himself; there’s very little room for bodily insecurity. 😂

Peach is another story. I headcanon that she has insecurities regarding her body image, though it’s less to do with maintaining a certain physique and more to do with wanting to be healthy and physically capable (y’know that long-ass fic I keep talking about that I’ve got in the works? That’ll be one of the topics it touches on!). She does get self-conscious about her body sometimes during pregnancy, but it’s easily rectified with love and reassurances! Postpartum… not so much.

For whatever reason, the last month of her pregnancy takes a lot out of her, more so than expected, and it takes a few months to really gain her strength and energy back. She spends several weeks more or less confined to her chambers because she’s so frail, and when she tries to go for walks to get some fresh air and exercise, she gets winded and has to go back inside in like half an hour’s time. And by Toadessa’s assessment, there’s nothing they can really do to expedite the healing process — she’s doing everything right and is perfectly healthy otherwise. Some people just take longer to bounce back, and that process is complicated by the energy and resources needed to care for a newborn. The best she can do is rest.

And her frustration with her slow healing process ends up manifesting as frustration with her body as a whole. Like most people postpartum, she’s dealing with extra weight and stretched and sagging skin, and that coupled with the exhaustion of a new parent makes her feel like she’s some sluggish, disgusting creature that’s loathsome to even look at. She keeps expecting to see some sign of it reflected in Mario’s face, a look of pity or maybe even disgust that confirms her suspicions.

It should go without saying that that never happens. Mario knows how she feels, because this has happened before in another context (enter my long-ass wip!), and he knows “You’re still beautiful and perfect and I love you and (respectfully) want you to suffocate me between your thighs” ain’t gonna cut it when she feels so intensely about her body. So what’s a guy to do? Well, he knows it’s less about her physique and more about her vitality, so he helps her in regaining it.

He finds energizing exercises that are postpartum friendly for her to try and then does them with her, or he’ll join her for her walks, or anything else that will naturally build her back up, because she’s much less apt to get discouraged and call it quits when he’s there. It doesn’t matter how much physical activity actually gets done or if they spend more time taking breaks than actually moving. He gets her laughing and talking and thinking about things other than how inadequate she feels, and he makes sure she only pushes herself as far as she can reasonably go, and by the time Peach willfully puts an end to their routines, she already feels a thousand times better. When she feeds and rocks their baby, she spends less time staring in disdain at her figure and questioning how well she can raise a child if she can’t even take care of herself and more time reveling in the joys of motherhood, feeling on top of the world once more, and it’s a welcome change for all involved.

But above all, Mario makes it clear that, whether she becomes the buffest MILF on the planet or whether she wakes up tomorrow and decides she’s perfectly happy with where she’s at right now, he’s going to think she’s beautiful. He doesn’t care what she looks like so long as she’s happy with herself.

“You think my stomach’s finally getting a little flatter?” she asks one night, contentedly flustered beneath his touch.

“I think you look more confident than you ever have,” he tells her.

“You’re dodging the question, Mario.”

“Nope!” He kisses the tip of her nose. “Just focusing on what really matters.”

With time, Peach comes to agree with his sentiment.

[rubyleaf]

DAYS is not a BL manga: the saga continues.

[khaire-traveler]

How To Get Started With Deities - A Beginner's Guide

***GIF depicts Hermes from Destripando la Historia on YouTube.***

***DISCLAIMER: This information is largely based on personal experience. When I use sources, I will include them at the end. If something doesn't sit well with you, you don't have to do it. This is all a suggestion and is just meant to help anyone who may be feeling a bit lost on where to start with deity work or worship (there is a difference between those things).***

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First thing's first... Deity Work vs. Deity Worship

What is Deity Work exactly? Deity work is the process of engaging with a deity to achieve a specific outcome. For example, let's say you're a follower of Dionysus, and you began working with him to cope with something in healthy ways. You are working with Dionysus to achieve something specific, classifying this as deity work.

What is Deity Worship exactly? Deity worship is venerating or praising a deity; you are not working with them to achieve an outcome. For example, let's use you as a follower of Dionysus again. You make offerings to him, for no specific reason, and even consider yourself Hellenic, meaning you subscribe to a particular religion. You are not working with Dionysus to make progress toward a specific goal; you're simply worshipping and honoring him, gifting him offerings, and singing his praises. This would be classified as deity worship.

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So You Feel a Deity Reaching Out...

What are some ways to tell if a deity is trying to contact you? This is a difficult question to answer, honestly speaking, because how a deity contacts you or sends you signs varies from person to person. It rarely looks the same for people. However, there are some common ways a deity will present themselves. They are as follows:

Having dreams that depict them or their symbols

Seeing animals, or animal symbols, associated with them

Feeling inexplicably connected to or pulled toward them

Enjoying the same things they happen to have domain over

Seeing representations or images of them consistently

Getting strong gut feelings about them

Can I reject a deity's offer/can a deity reject my offer? Simply put, yes, absolutely. Deities will respect the boundaries you set with them, and in turn, you should do the same. If you don't wish to work with or worship a deity, you don't have to. Likewise, it's ok if a deity doesn't want to work with you or have you worship them (although I haven't heard of a deity rejecting worship before, honestly). You are never required to accept. If you plan on rejecting a deity's offer, however, I advise giving them proper notice so that they're aware of your choice.

What if a deity isn't reaching out but I want to work with/worship them? This is perfectly normal, and it's important to mention that sometimes, you make the first move which is okay. There is nothing wrong with you taking the first step in a deity relationship (relationship having no particular connotation, in this context).

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How to Get Started...

What should my first steps be? In forming a deity relationship, I think there's a lot of preparation that goes into things before you officially start interacting with them. Of course, you're welcome to just start off with direct interaction right away, but I don't suggest it. Before anything, I suggest doing your research.

What kinds of things should I research? I recommend researching topics such as the deity's mythology, the experiences of their other followers, their associations and common correspondences, and the culture they stem from. This may seem like a lot, but you don't have to dive into serious depth unless you'd like to. I recommend learning at least the basics of each topic, so as not to overwhelm yourself with information. It's also important to note that some deities have more information than others; you may not find a wealth of information on your deity, in which case, I'd focus more on their cultural history and the experiences of their followers.

Cool, now what? Now all you need to do is get ready to make first contact! What you'll need:

An offering (or several; it's your choice)

And that's it, really! You don't need anything else unless you're able to afford it or are open about your practices. If you want, you can also have a candle to light for the deity, crystals you feel they'd like, and an image or figure of them. Overall, though, you really don't need much to contact a deity (later on, you won't likely need to give an offering each time you reach out; I just recommend it for your first time to be polite and respectful).

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Offerings... How do?

How do I give offerings? When you give an offering, all that matters is your intention. If you intend that thing to be an offering for said deity, then all you really need to do is let the deity know you're giving that thing as an offering. That's it, really; it's not a challenging process. If you want, you can have a set place for that offering called an "altar", where you keep images of the deity, leave offerings, and even have a candle to light in honor of them, but despite popular belief, a formal altar is not required to worship or work with a deity if you don't have a space for one or can't be open about your practices. Altars are extremely appreciated but not required.

What counts as an offering? As I mentioned previously, it's your intention that matters the most. Anything can be an offering, as long as you mean to give it to your deity with good intentions. A necklace that has importance to you? That can be an offering! A yummy fruit? Yup, still works! The only thing I don't advise is giving unsanitary offerings, but that's more of a safety concern to me.

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How do I discard perishable offerings? The best way is likely to bury said offering if it's safe for the environment. You can also burn it if it's safe to burn, or simply throw it away. You can also consume offerings (as long as they're safe to eat, of course). If you throw something away, however, I would inform the deity that you mean no disrespect by it and are simply discarding the item safely.

Conclusion

That's all you really need to get started with forming a relationship with a deity! These are, again, suggestions, and you don't have to do or try or even believe anything I've stated above. If something doesn't feel right to you, simply find another way to move forward that is comfortable for you. The nice thing about paganism is how much wiggle room you have, especially when learning what does and doesn't work for you and your beliefs.

Overall, I hope I was able to help someone! If you have any questions, please feel free to DM me or send me an ask. I'm very friendly and happy to help! c:

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||Sources||

"What do they want?" - hearthfirehandworks on Tumblr

"How to tell if you've received a sign" - localwitchhere on Tumblr

[yrbutchgf]

hey, i'm feeling a bit insecure in my identity rn and i was wondering if you have any... tips, or anything like that. i'm a lesbian who feels more comfortable in a masc role, and i think i would identify as butch... but i feel like i'm too emotional. i cry SO often. my mental health has been less than stellar for the last 10 years or so lol, so that plays a part, but i'm also just a crier. things that make me cry: criticism, heated discussions, presentations, movie/game/book endings, all music with violins, some music without violins, christmas commercials, those miniature food clay charms... literally everything. and it's always in public too, which is embarrassing enough as it is. and i know that doesn't have to mean anything for my gender identity, but the whole "boys/men don't cry" thing kind of did a number on me lol. i always feel like a little girl when others watch me cry, even though i want to be the protector. sorry for rambling, but i feel like you always have good takes on butchness and stuff like that, so i was wondering if you have any tips on feeling more secure in my butch/masc side :)

ok before i say anything else, thank you, i’m honestly really flattered you think that highly of my takes lol <3 i do try my best, i’m glad i’m able to help people to whatever extent i do with my posts. also, bit of a length warning -- i always set out with the intention of writing succinct responses to asks, but it always gets away from me, and this time "getting away from me" meant "turning into a manifesto." well, oops. c'est la butch/femme.

now to start this answer off: i definitely relate. i’m also pretty emotional. when i get stressed i get really shaky, especially in my hands, and then after that my body turns on the waterworks. i also have a fairly exuberant personality in general, and i'm very expressive with my hands & body language. the only times i’ve ever really fit the stoic archetype have been on accident, usually when i’ve felt uncomfortable in a social situation and it’s come off as strong silence. at the same time, i also don’t like when people see me cry or be emotional in general, especially in public. it makes me feel vulnerable in a way that i don’t like to give most people, and the fact that i can’t fully control when or if i do is uncomfortable. and i think disliking that feeling is totally normal, or at the very least it’s a common boundary to have. regardless of sexuality, gender, or presentation, there’s a social urge to cover up when we’re feeling our feelings, but even beyond that there is, i think, a reflexive, self-preservation level urge to cover up what can be easily damaged. so to an extent, i think it’s natural to shy away from vulnerability.

at the same time, the urge to push down one’s tears is not necessarily a HEALTHY urge, only a COMMON one, because you’re right: emotionality has no bearing on your gender or what roles you can take up. some of my best butch and masc friends are also extremely emotional people, and they’re very open about it, and in a lot of ways that openness almost feels to me more masculine or more butch, because they’re embracing their feelings, and that’s obviously a really hard thing to learn to do, so it’s powerful, admirable, and also to be honest, it’s attractive! the ability of someone to be brave enough to be vulnerable can in many situations make the people around them feel more at ease, and i think it can become a very steady, very stabilizing sort of masculinity. in other words, someone who is very comfortable in their tears is also very good and healing to be around. so i think in a lot of ways, when you learn to own your emotions rather than push them away, that can very easily augment your butchness rather than take away from it.

now obviously everyone views butch/femme differently, whether as genders/sexuality labels/dynamics/what have you, but for me no matter what at the center of these terms there is always this nexus, this core focus, of care. in the dynamic, butch/femme is about butches & femmes caring for one another in complementary ways both in- and out-side of romantic relationships. so when we talk about butchness standalone, you and many other people reach for words like “protector,” and i don’t think there’s anything necessarily wrong with that, i think protection can and often is a key role, but my point here is, where is that urge to protect coming from? it’s from love, from caring about the people you love. and i think it’s important to remember that and to frame it that way, because when you do, it becomes pretty simple: your emotionalism is more than anything a sign of that urge to care/protect/provide in you, or a driving force to those urges, however you want to frame it. far from taking away from your butchness, your emotions are at the very foundation of what it can be. i talked about this in the butch/femme server a bit, and thren @lesbiandaemon said it perfectly:

i genuinely think i (and many others!) would feel so much safety and security being w someone who allows themself to be vulnerable and earnest abt their emotions and it definitely augments butchness, from my perspective as a femme. i envy and care deeply for the butch whose emotions and vulnerability are on display, there's a strength in that imo, even if you've been made to feel self conscious and dysphoric and "less than" bc of that. i think of phrases like "the strength to remain tender", "the violence it took to be this gentle" in the lens of trauma but if that applies and you're ok w it, i think it could also apply here too [...]

whether ppl know it or not, sometimes the way one carries themselves can be projected onto others; there's already an example in how anon mentions the "big boys/men don't cry" thing, vulnerability being shut out and dismissed/disparaged isn't going to make anyone more eager/open abt their emotions. and like, going back to the butch/femme dynamic, it does feel so much more stable and steady if someone has the courage to acknowledge and let themselves feel their emotions, it's very welcoming and validating, knowing that someone can have a strong image and show their tenderness, knowing that you're safe and free from mockery/scorn to do the same when someone protective of you knows how it feels and will care for you because they feel touched to their core and have let you know in more than one way.

and i want to add an important caveat here: obviously not everyone who cares very deeply is going to be outwardly emotional or show it in the same ways. that’s true for all kinds of reasons. i think a lot of the stoicism we see in traditional depictions of butches can come from how people relate emotions to masculinity (that is to say, how people view masculinity as inherently based around a distance from one’s “softer” side), but also, honestly, i think this may also have roots in the historical coping mechanisms that a lot of butches took on in the face of a world that was unkind to them.

in stone butch blues, for example, there’s a lot of talk about this idea of “hard” versus “soft,” or “going stone,” especially when jess is first getting into the bar scene and she’s still fresh-faced to violence. and going stone in this context isn’t just about sexuality, it's also about how so many butches learned to stop letting people in even at a basic emotional level. for them, hardening up was an inevitability of circumstance, not an inherent facet of their personality or a building block of butch identity. i’m sure plenty of old-school butches would be glad to know it’s no longer inevitable or necessary for a butch to close themselves off completely in order to survive.

of course there are also plenty of butches who are just naturally reserved with their emotions, and that’s also fine -- that doesn’t mean they don’t feel things, or that they don’t care. they care -- all of us do! some of us showing it more or less than others doesn’t reflect badly on any of us, whether we’re of a more stoic or a more open variety. but some of us really can’t help showing it, and that’s okay. that’s just how the love spills out. the right person won’t see that as weakness or a crack in the fine china of your masculinity or whatever, they’ll see it as a lovely and endearing part of your whole and warming butchness. so embrace your emotions. do your best to honor the role they play in butch/femmeness. try to love your emotions, or at the very least not to be afraid of them. and remember: you are strong. your tenderness will not destroy you. in fact, it’s what built you to begin with.

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing, could you do 2 for au, 4 for trope and 5 for prompt with andreil?

Hogwarts au, meet messy, "you have the emotional capacity of a brick"

Dearest anon, how did you know that I have been literally aching for an excuse to do something with a hogwarts au?

For context, because idk if I'll be able to explain it in the ficlet, Andrew and Aaron have been raised by their real father, Joseph Minyard, and his wife, Betsy Dobson, since the twins were seven. Andrew instinctively retaliated against an abuser with magic when he was in foster care, bringing him to the attention of whatever the US's ministry of magic is called (I forgot). They found his dad, who is a British wizard, and also discovered Aaron's existence. The twins, upon meeting each other and finding out they were wizards, chose to stay together and go with their dad rather than risk potentially being separated in whatever system the US magic people has for orphaned magic kids.

(look, I've been thinking about this A LOT okay?)

The following scene would take place the summer before the twins' fifth year. They are fifteen, Kevin is sixteen, Neil is fourteen.

Please be aware that all these characters are a lot younger and significantly less traumatized. I mean, shit still happened to them, but they all get rescued from their abusive home lives a lot earlier than in canon.

---

Andrew Minyard had lost a bet.

It was a really shitty bet, and Andrew should have known at the time that he was being fucking set up. But, well - what was it that broody fucker always said? Oh. C'est la vie. Or something. Whatever.

Point being, Andrew made a stupid bet and then he lost and it was really his own damn fault. Now he was stuck going to stupid Kevin Day's stupid house to play stupid broom-ball over summer break when he could have been basking in the wonders of muggle efficiency like television and air conditioning. What made it worse was that his mom had been so damn delighted that he was going over to a friend's house, too, and Andrew didn't usually have it in him to smash her hopes and dreams when she was so genuinely happy for him.

So. Here he was, broom in hand (because if he had to do this he was at least going to suffer with the familiarity of his own fucking broom), staring up at obviously haunted creaky old manor house that Day apparently lived in.

"Great," he grumbled to himself. "Just.. great." Andrew did not like ghosts, did not like them one fucking bit. They always wanted to chat you up and had absolutely no respect for personal space.

The longer he delayed, though, the longer Day was probably going to force him to participate in his bullshit "training camp", so Andrew straightened his shoulders and trudged up the cracked stone staircase that lead up the hill to the front door of the house. The very second Andrew had both feet on the dilapidated front porch, one hand reaching for the knocker, the front door began to swing slowly open. You know, as they were wont to do in creepy old ghost-infested houses owned by wizards.

Without waiting for a welcome (because the door fucking opened for him, that was invitation enough), Andrew strolled inside. He didn't even flinch when the door slammed shut behind him.

(Okay, maybe he jumped a little bit. Just a little.)

No one was waiting for him in the foyer, because of course that would be too easy. At least the inside of the house didn't look as abandoned as the outside did. On the contrary, the foyer was well-lit and free dust and cobwebs. It opened up into a round sitting room that looked lived-in rather than haunted, personal affects strewn about here and there in vaguely organized chaos and family pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

This, Andrew had learned quickly upon his introduction to the magical world about seven or so years ago now, was fairly common when it came to magical families living in and around muggle neighborhoods. Sure, there were wholly wizarding villages, but not a ton of them. Most of the magical community had to coexist or at least peripherally exist with the muggle one. With the work of a couple of charms and a heavy dose of aesthetic, a magical family could live comfortably without the muggles looking too closely - and even if they did look closely, it was the haunted old house at the end of the street so strange things were bound to happen around it, right?

Homey as it may be on the inside, it was still actually haunted, though. Andrew had a good sense about ghostly lairs and this was definitely one of them.

Heaving a sigh, Andrew moved through the sitting room and ventured deeper into the house. The sooner he found Kevin, the sooner he could leave.

The rest of the house, Andrew swiftly found, was an uncanny combination of the haunted image it presented to outsiders and the cozy haven of the front sitting room. The hall leading off the sitting room was normal when you looked down it heading away from the sitting room, but when Andrew looked back over his shoulder it was like looking into something out of a cheap horror film (of which Andrew had viewed many, much to his father and brother's chagrin, but his mother liked to critique them with him).

Andrew checked each door he came across. Some of them were locked. Some opened into perfectly normal coat closets and bathrooms. At least one of them opened onto an actual cemetery where a bunch of ghosts were playing croquet. Andrew quickly shut that door before any of them tried to talk to him.

It was when he came to the staircase, however, that he finally started to get somewhere. Voices could be heard when he hit the first landing, but they completely vanished when tried to move beyond it - either further up the stairs or out into the hall. Turning to inspect the walls, Andrew realized that one of them wasn't actually a wall at all, but an illusion -- his hand right through!

"This is getting ridiculous," Andrew grumbled to himself as he stepped through the goddamn fucking wall.

He found himself in a wide, clean hallway bathed in the bright sunlight that was streaming in from the skylights placed every few feet. From one of the open doors a bit down the hall, Andrew could finally make out the words of what was obviously an argument.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to your bloody school, Day?!"

"You can't just not go to school, Neil! The Ministry will have your wand, and then where will you be?"

"Oh come off it, do you really still buy into all that regulatory shit? They can't track me if I'm not a student unless they have an open warrant out on me. I could turn the corner store into a giant anthropomorphic pig that pisses coffee and they wouldn't know it happened until the story hit the local news, and even then they'd have a hard time tracking me down, considering those lazy twats barely even know how to read let alone track a rogue wizard."

"Galloping Gargoyles, Neil. Where in Merlin's name do you come up with this shit."

"It's called an imagination, Day. I was able to foster one while not being indoctrinated into the sheep-brain miasma that is Ministry-approved wizarding society."

This 'Neil' was getting more worked up as he spoke, spitting out his words like he was crafting a very pointed hex. There was the scuff of footsteps and a shadow fell across the hall as someone stepped toward the hall. "I'll be leaving now, thanks. Have fun being institutionally programed to fit the conservative mediocrity."

A larger shadow blotted out most of Neil's. "You can't just go, Neil!"

There was a scuffle, then a short kid wearing oversized robes stumbled into the hall. "Try and bloody catch me then, you lumbering infant of a Bandersnatch!" And then the kid turned and bolted down the hall -- right toward where Andrew had paused to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Now, Andrew was all ready to step aside. This was none of his business, after all. If this mouthy kid wanted to run away and join the circus or something, more power to him. He, also, thought school was a nightmare. But then Kevin stumbled out into the hall and shouted, "Andrew! Block him!"

And, well. Look. This was all fucking Kevin's fault. Kevin and his stupid cross-House quidditch club and his obsession with running drills. It was also Nicky's fault, for forcing them all to go so they could bond or what the fuck ever the purpose was. But Kevin shouted 'block!' and Andrew had spent two years as a beater and one year as a keeper and, well, reflexes kicked in.

He blocked.

Except, he had spent two years as a beater, and he was holding a broom. So.

His arms moved on their own, and it was a mighty, vicious swing. The next second the kid was flat on his back, gasping to try and catch his breath. Kevin loped over on legs too long, shooting Andrew an appreciative grin that Andrew kind of wanted to punch off of him.

"What.. the.. actual... fuck..." the kid - Neil - wheezed from the floor.

Now that he was officially drawn into this mess, Andrew allowed himself to indulge his curiosity and slung his broom up against one shoulder to approach the fallen boy. He felt a little bad (okay, more than a little), so he figured he'd offer him a hand up at least. Except, when he got to the kid and looked down he was shocked to find just about the prettiest boy in the whole Nimue-cursed universe.

(Andrew's gay awakening had happened when he was twelve years old. The keeper of the Gryffindor quidditch team smiled at him and told him he'd make a pretty good beater. Andrew had tried out for his own House team the very next week, and it had all been downhill from there.)

Andrew cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something cool and unbothered, because that's what you did when you met someone pretty and wanted to impress them. Instead, like the utter dork that he was, he said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

"What the fuck is a Weasley?" the sharp, pretty boy on the floor shot back through gritted teeth, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Kevin's obnoxious shadow fell across the both of him and he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Don't mind Andrew, he remembers everything he hears and has a tendency to regurgitate random lines from other things when he feels awkward or anxious."

"Don't mind Kevin," Andrew followed up conversationally, "he's an insufferable know-it-all with a tendency to overshare and force people to play stupid broom-ball when they should be having a perfectly air-conditioned summer break."

"You emotionally wound me."

"You have the emotional capacity of a brick, don't try me Day."

Kevin rolled his eyes. Neil honed in on Andrew with eerie intensity. "You have an air-conditioner?"

Aha! Mission accomplished: cute boy impressed.

Andrew smirked. "Yup." He popped the 'p', feeling quite good about himself, his earlier bumble placed in the back of his head where he could obsess about it later.

Neil's narrowed eyes scanned him up and down, then relaxed, the blue of them bright and intelligent. He looked like he was figuring something out about Andrew but Andrew had no idea what or why. It took some effort, but instead of squirming he met Neil's gaze full-on. After a long moment, Neil seemed to have made a decision. He pushed himself up to his feet and nodded. "Alright then. You play quidditch?" He gestured to Andrew's broom with the jerk of his chin.

He hadn't noticed it earlier because he'd been so fascinated with the argument itself, but now that he could focus on Neil's voice, Andrew realized that there was something of about his accent. It wasn't that it seemed fake but more that it... it reminded him of his own, back when he'd been younger and had only been in England for a couple of years. He remembered being teased for it, and getting into a lot of fights because of that. Well, he remembered getting into fights because Aaron was also teased, and no one picked on his brother but him.

"I thought you were going to run off and join the circus." Andrew arched a brow.

Neil wrinkled his nose. "No. I'm still not going to your stupid castle school." He paused and looked from Andrew to the broom back over to Kevin and sighed. "But... one or two games of quidditch before I go can't hurt."

Kevin looked overjoyed. He grinned at Andrew and Andrew supposed that they really must be friends now, because he felt quite pleased about that.

"Great!" said Kevin. "Let's go! We should be able to get in some warm-up rounds before the others get here!"

"Others?" Andrew and Neil said with identical inflections of disdain. The sound of an echo startled the both of them and the looked at each other. Then, Neil smiled.

Andrew supposed a day without AC playing stupid broom-ball wasn't so bad after all.

Fun little prompt things

[legacysagas]

Read If You Like

This is pretty much me rambling and maybe getting some advice or word from someone involved in the roleplay community on Tumblr.

What motivates you to write on this platform? How is the community for you? Do you think roleplaying is still fun?

As the Internet changes with D&D being mainstream, VRchats and other platforms where people can express themselves and take roles of characters, contribute to stories that inspire, is Tumblr still any of what I mentioned?

For me personally. I say no. It's pretty shallow now than compared when I first joined. I don't if it was truly due to the mistreatment of the website or everyone I knew just grew up and had lives to live. Either way it sucks because I love making stories and experiencing them. I love seeing characters interact and be engaging. But it doesn't feel the same anymore here and it is making me thinking on leaving. But if I do leave, where do I go from here then?

It's weird because I found another platform to roleplay, specifically for my OCs to flesh them out and oddly it's a video game. Final Fantasy 14.

But it is hard for me to recommend it to anyone, especially at the state the game is in as it is trying to handle the massive amount of players.

Aeon, my first OC, has not only become a mercenary but a chef who has gained a small following as people enjoy his food. People are interested in his story and some think he fits perfectly into the main story if I ever want him to be the Warrior of Light. And mind you, I haven't touched the story, I skipped it to just enjoy the content. He has found a love interest as well, who would be happy to be his first customer when his restaurant becomes real.

And Maria is working on being into playing music with her violin, might have a dancer with her. But still aiming for her goals in rising to power to make the world in her image, which will later clash with Aeon's journey.

And many of this is just happenings that made interactions with characters feel so organic. Other than the back story for my OCs none of this is planned. Heck a fight occured with Aeon that was treated like a D&D session involving dice rolls. It also helps how thriving and welcoming the community is, not many people just sticking to themselves or only after horny characters.

I am not against the smut blogs, but I can't do it 24/7, not only that but it just boils down to "Bitch you hot, wanna bang?" No chemistry or even a interesting narrative to give the context of the sexy bits more flavor.

I hadn't had a big stupid grin on my face in so long with interactions, that made me boom with joy.

I can't help but feel like I am being unfair for anyone who wants me here though. I don't know. Maybe I am done with just using text. It's not that I don't have good stuff here. I have met wonderful people on Tumblr, one who I am even married to.

But I don't know what to do with myself here. I feel no point doing anything here at times.

[lubluues]

I just found out how to do the ‘read more’ thing, so I am going to take advantage of this and explain why Super Mario Galaxy and RTGame combined feel like home to me :)

Whether I’m watching the highlight videos or the entire VODs, I feel so at home. Perhaps it’s just the nostalgia talking from the game itself, but the combination of the two feels like a match made in heaven. With Dan’s calm and welcoming nature perfectly accompanying the wonderful music the game has to offer, all the way up to the chaotic energy of the jokes about killing off as many Dino Piranhas as possible; there’s a lot to love here.

I love associating the OST with moments that don’t make sense. The themes of the observatory really hit home for me. With the whole aesthetic of galaxies Dan already has going on, I can perfectly imagine him as some sort of space connoisseur. Showing us what the galaxies have to offer, all while making jokes along the way to keep us entertained. The calmness of this theme reeks of exploration and anticipation, which is why I associate it with this image in my head.

I also like imagining the chat as some sort of stars. In context of galaxy, perhaps some of them are lumas! But regardless of the stream, I like imagining chat as stars that accompany Dan on whatever journey he’s on. Shooting stars and meteors acting as donations and bits; and so on! It’s a wonderful image to have in mind, honestly. Little stars floating around him, perhaps clustering into bunches when everyone is saying the same thing (such as trying to stop him from doing something chaotic); or pushing him forward to do said thing when he is against it.

When it reaches tense parts of the game where the music picks up, we are in danger. The desperation leaking from the OST at these moments strikes hard, as you can really imagine Dan trying to keep everyone calm and safe, if you still have the idea in mind of us going and visiting the galaxies together. When the star is visible and that calm music sets in, we have a moment of peace. Everyone is checked up on and made sure that they’re okay, before we call collect the star together and emerge victorious and safe from harm.

Everything just feels like home. It feels familiar, in a sickly sweet kind of way. We’re all exploring together, coming up with ways to combat challenges and emerging at the end with everlasting memories that’ll stay with us until the end. This is a lot sadder if you imagine the chat as the stars at the end of the game. You know, the ones that plunge themselves into the black hole. We are so thankful for the memories and adventure we were on, we’re willing to risk everything for the man who risked it for us. No matter the consequences, we fling ourselves into the unknown for his sake, for the glint of hope that we might meet again some day in an alternative reality.

The storybook section also hits hard. Imagine, after a long day of exploring, right before the end of all worlds; we get a story. A story of his past, exploring personal topics that may not exactly be the same as the one in the actual game; but the soothing voice alone makes it a joy to listen to. No matter what story is told, we feel at peace. It’s a gentle reminder that no matter what happens, we all have a personal connection. A connection that leads to trust; enough to lead to vulnerability in telling such deep secrets and tales of woe right before we might never see each other again.

If anyone gets inspired by this to create whatever, feel free to let me know! As bittersweet as it is, I hope you enjoyed my little ramble. :)

[curiouswitchcollection]

Tarot Cards - Major Arcana

I wrote this ages ago for a previous blog that I had...I have been studying and reading tarot cards for 15 years and this is my interpretation of the major arcana.

I like to see things as stories and narratives to help me understand. I am a visual person and using my imagination I have been able to learn how to read tarot cards and their general meanings...of course these change depending on the context of the reading but this is just my interpretation of the stories behind the cards in the Major Arcana. I feel I need to say that anything I write here is open to interpretation and for entertainment purposes only...mainly my own entertainment!

The Fool

In the depiction the ‘fool’ is daydreaming about what he wants to achieve in the future, but there are unknown steps that he needs to take first before he can reach those goals. Will he choose to follow the butterfly into the unknown and possibly achieve those desires? Will he take the leap in his life? The sun shining down suggests that taking the leap is for the highest good of the Fool, but it would depend on the other cards surrounding it in the reading. If you look deeper into the image of the fool you will see that they are in mid-run...are they going to be able to stop themselves from taking the leap off the cliff into the unknown? Are they really paying attention to where they are going? Does it matter? This card shows the fool trusting the journey into the unknown.

The Magician

Within the image you can see the magician holding up their own wand and within the image there are representations of the four suits - cups, pentacles, swords and cups! There is also the infinity symbol and the magician is surrounded by plants, mainly roses and lilies (if you are using Rider Waite). I look at the Magician and he is performing a ceremony of some kind, like harnessing the power of the four different suits, balancing and harmonising energies. I feel that this card is about being a creator, we are the creators of our own realities. The infinity symbol to me signifies how what we put out into the universe always comes back to us. This is a creative, fertile card. The roses link to love and the lilies represent death in many cultures. Could there be a need to harness your own power to create the life you want? Release the old? Welcome in the new? Personally I would say that the magician is the divine masculine, taking control, taking action to move things in his life through his own power.

The High Priestess

Divine feminine power. The divine feminine is a more magnetic energy than the divine masculine, which is more dynamic. The high priestess is sat there, drawing in what is meant to come to her through her own infinite power and magnetism. She has the light and the dark on both sides and she is in the middle, perfectly balanced, at ease with herself. She is holding a scroll, but you can’t quite see what it is about. It is like she has this wisdom that she must keep to herself until the time is right to share it. The moon is linked to divine feminine energy, the waxing crescent is the first step towards a full moon. Maybe this card could represent for the ‘readee’ a step to embodying their divine feminine and being open to new wisdom and insight? (I say ‘their’ as we all have divine feminine and masculine energies within us) The circle on top/around her head could be symbolic of the full moon and that the wisdom of the divine feminine will be understood.

The Empress

Another strong, female figure in the major arcana. She represents to me the ebb and flow of the divine feminine. She is surrounded by plants and harvestables, signifying growth and fertility (not just the baby kind, but in all areas of life) the card represents the potential of contentment with what you have created and allowing life to bloom around you. The female symbol is a strong indication that the ‘readee’ needs to further embody their divine feminine and I always feel that it links to self-love and compassion for yourself and others. Look at how relaxed she is? She is just allowing life to happen around her and observe what is going on.

The Emperor

When I look at this card it screams Aries energy to me, usually it has representations of ram’s heads around it and to me it is a full on action card. The card that says it’s time to move forward with that project that has been on your mind and start taking action. This card represents masculine energy, strong, dependable, protective. Even in the background you can usually see mountains and rocky features. This is someone who has a strong foundation and is ready to move forward. The emperor has armour on, ready for anything, any possibility but still will strive on and forwards.

The Hierophant

A magical card. There are many different interpretations for this card but I am going to go with my own. He could be considered the masculine counterpart for the High Priestess. The symbolism is very similar, however to me the hierophant represents more of an ‘outward’ journey. The sharing of knowledge and wisdom, the preaching of what they see to be true after their inner work. It is more of a ‘material’ card focussing on bonds between others and guiding from a place of balance and truth. See the keys that are usually present in this card, the are crossed which symbolises balance and opportunity to open up to more truths. It can also mean that it is time to listen to the guidance of someone more knowledgeable than you are.

The Lovers

This card depicts two lovers, who are separate, but together. There is a divine being above them which the feminine aspect is looking towards. This card has many interpretations, it can literally mean the joining together of two partners in love, or a focus on the inner journey and self-love. To me the palms facing towards each other suggests an openness and a joining together - could be a partnership or friendship of some kind? It is like the divine being is orchestrating everything and guiding the journey of the two individuals to each other. Remember, though, we both have the divine feminine and masculine within us...could these aspects need to be balanced and brought together? The sun in the background always symbolises positive outcomes to me, but of course it depends on the other cards that surround this one.

The Chariot

Usually this card symbolises a journey - inner or outer. The two (usually sphinxes) creatures, black and white, are facing two different directions so the ‘readee’ may be confused about what path to take next. There may be two possible choices coming up in their life which they will need to distinguish between. Sometimes this card can mean a moving of home or workplace or moving away from things that are no longer serving you and there being lots of opportunities coming at you to choose from.

Strength

One of my favourite cards. To me it symbolises inner-strength, courage, determination. It symbolises the overcoming of obstacles. Look at how the woman (typically seen as a maiden) is able to control the situation and have the fierce lion submit to her? She doesn’t force it, she doesn’t hurt it. She is gentle, she is kinds, she is delicate and respectful. It's almost like she is trying to help the lion and the lion is accepting her help despite not always being able to accept that they may need help and support. To me she is using her inner power - which isn’t about brute force - to create a connection which is mutually supportive.

The Hermit

I love this card too. For a long time this card symbolised my journey, and still does to some extent. This card asks the ‘readee’ to really take time for themselves, to go inward for the answers, shine the light in the darkest parts of themselves for that is where their gifts lie. Like a communion with yourself, when this card comes up I know it’s time to switch off my phone, my laptop and just meditate, journal and focus on me and my journey for a while. The hermit has accepted he is alone, but not necessarily lonely for his own light is guiding him. You are never alone if you fully see yourself.

Wheel of Fortune

To me the wheel of fortune symbolises a change in fortune - usually for the better but it depends on the context of the reading. From my perspective all changes are positive, even if they feel devastating at the time, change in life helps keep us aligned to our truest selves. The symbolism of the books shows me that through study of whatever it is you are wanting you can improve your chances, through looking deeply at things in your life. Generally though it is a signifier of success and abundance and destiny being fulfilled.

Justice

This card to me represents Libra - balance. That all things will balance out. For example if life has been feeling particularly hard this card could signify the balancing of energies and a positive outcome. It can symbolise that you need to make the right choice based on morality and what is right rather than what you may WANT. When this card comes in relation to legal matters or unbalanced relationships (say, you are putting in more effort or someone is being unkind to you) that things will become better, of course this relates to the other cards around this one in a reading.

The Hanged Man

Despite being hanged this man is at peace. He’s at peace with his place in the world and what he is doing and where he is going. He simply hanging around and allowing life to come to him. Like a beacon of light he is attracting opportunities to him. This card on the other hand may be reminding you that you are the creator of your life and it is time to take responsibility for what you have brought into your life. Through the trials of our lives we gain wisdom and strengthen our ability to discern what is for us and what isn’t.

Death

I did write a longer post about the Death card the other day, so I will try and keep this short and sweet! The Death card rarely, if ever, represents an actual death. It represents transformation, the dying of an old situation, relationship etc ready to birth a new one. A teacher of mine used to take out the Death card when giving readings to people as she didn’t want them to worry about it as some people just couldn’t grasp the concept that the Death card doesn’t necessarily mean death.

Temperance

For me this card can mean a multitude of different things. On one hand it may represent peacefulness coming into your life, moving away from troubled times into more peaceful ones. It can also ask us to ensure that we are doing things in moderation, not overstretching ourselves in our daily pursuits, not overdoing it in any area of our life. It also can signify a need to be patient and follow the ebb and flow of life.

The Devil

The Devil card asks us - what is holding you back? What limiting beliefs do you hold that prevent you from doing what you want to do? It can signify obsession and addiction and a need to look into your blindspots when it comes to your life - for example, where are you not admitting to yourself that certain behaviours are detrimental. The card may also signify something that is predestined, something we are bound to, not necessarily something evil!!

The Tower

I have written about my take on the Tower card before, so I will keep it short and sweet! The Tower card can symbolise a sudden change coming in someone’s life - it will relate to whatever the reading is about or could be just in general. It may feel tumultuous and chaotic but it is very similar to the Death card in that these changes often lead to wonderful things (even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time!)

The Star

This card, for me, can be interpreted in many different ways. To me it says hope, wishes being fulfilled, flowing with life and allowing the good vibes to flow. However, depending on the reading context it can mean that you need to be aware of where you are expending your energy. You can see that the woman is pouring two jugs, one into her ‘well’ (you know the saying fill your own cup etc) and the other is just being poured out onto the floor, a waste of water, a waste of energy. Where might you be wasting your energy?

The Moon

The moon card to me symbolises an inner, spiritual journey. A deep look into one’s self and one’s emotions. This card asks us to trust the ebbs and the flows of life. In the image the journey (the road) isn’t necessarily a straight line, it is up, down, left, right. If I get this card in a reading it tells me that as long as I trust and go with the flow I will get to my destination. This card can also symbolise feeling uncertain and unsure of the next steps to take but that feeling through the emotions around the situation will support the ‘readee’s’ progress.

The Sun

This is a beautiful card, and when I pull it I know that things are going to turn out positively. To me this card represents happiness in the area in question and an increase in general joy in someone’s life. It may be asking someone to focus on the good things in life rather than the not so good things! It’s a delightful card to have.

Judgement

The judgement card asks where are you ready to take responsibility in your life? Are you holding yourself accountable for your own actions and the life that you are creating? This card asks you to reflect on your own actions. It may be asking you to discern what is good for you in your life and truly take stock of the goings on within your existence. Judgement is usually seen in a negative light, but this card is about accountability and responsibility, not judging those that are different. Taking accountability for your actions is not the same as judging them. Sometimes the card may symbolise changes coming in and positive outcomes.

The World

This card symbolises success. It signifies change - be it internally, or moving home or moving jobs. But it says that whatever the outcome it will be successful. This card can symbolise travel and movement through life. It asks us to really think about what we wish to manifest in our lives and to show gratitude for what we have already created.

When I do tarot readings for myself or friends I always read intuitively so the meanings that I have learnt over the years may end up being completely irrelevant in context to the question I am answering, it is always best to trust that little voice. I do tend to use all 78 together and I do not read reversed cards, in my personal practice I always flip them over. I trust that the message needed will be revealed in the reading regardless of the way up the cards are, as they are all dualistic in nature and the meaning of the reading will be read either way.

Whilst learning how to read tarot it is always a good idea to learn the basic interpretations first, then create your own associations based on what you have learnt - they are your cards after all. Keep a journal of all the readings you give to yourself and willing victims to see what the cards (and your intuition) have to say when in certain combinations. You can find loads of different ways to read your cards, most commonly are the Celtic Cross spread. Here is a video explaining how to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqd6rhejYRQ

https://giphy.com/gifs/spirituality-tarot-divination-4PY6lgVbhlsdeIKpwh

This link takes your to a gif with all the Major Arcana Tarot cards for you to give yourself your very own reading!

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 19 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-18 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. This chapter is VERY heavy on the smut, with soft feelings at the end. This chapter does contain anal play. Some dirty talk and maybe the slightest bit of degradation, if you squint, but most definitely a praise kink. Please exercise caution in reading, if any of the above is a sensitive subject.

Words: 6.0k update, 92.8 total.

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But the very brief moment of connection and insight that you did have, albeit unintentionally, caused your heart to hammer against your injured chest. There was a maelstrom of emotions and images that tore through Din; relief, terror, joy, trepidation, sorrow, hope, trust, love. You felt each emotion as Din had, images coming forward to accompany the feelings.

Relief, as he had arrived to the scene to see that you were still alive and fighting.

Terror, as Bragant’s body crumpled within your invisible grasp.

Joy, as your eyes opened after uncounted hours spent by your bedside.

Trepidation, as he was worried that any misstep on his part could take you away from him.

Sorrow, as he had watched your body retract into itself, always on the defensive.

Hope, as he knew that the galaxy had kept you together to allow for this story to go on.

Trust, as he had removed his helmet and left the light on.

Love; and that needed no explanation or image.

Tears flowed from your eyes as you took on all of this insight and imagery, having finally gotten a look at what went on behind the beskar. You didn’t know how to begin to process all of this information — it was overwhelming in its wide nature, fully capturing the entire spectrum of human emotion. You pushed it away for a moment, trying to focus on your original goal of understanding what had happened to land the two of you here, injured and terrified.

"I'll love you always." "I'll love you in the rain and in the snow and in the hail and -- what else is there?" "I don't know, I guess I'm sleepy." "Go to sleep, darling, and I'll love you no matter what it is." Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms.

Despite having slept for several hours, you still felt as though all of the energy in your body had been sapped, having spilled out into the stained alleyway that Din had rescued you from. He was still sleeping soundly next to you, a snore escaping his perfectly soft lips with each inhalation; his arms held you securely against his broad and fantastically warm chest, and his legs had entangled with yours beneath the familiar grey wool blanket. It was almost as if he was attempting to anchor you to him, to make sure that you couldn’t ever be taken from him again. You didn’t have much of a recollection of the previous day’s events, and how Din had come to be so heartbroken; but seeing as how you were now awake and had a moment of silence and peacefulness, you decided to use this time to meditate and see what insights could be obtained, knowing that ignorance was not bliss.

You focused in on the repetitive and stable sound of Din’s breaths; you allowed your body to feel the sensations against it; you relaxed your muscles and paced your breathing. Reaching outwards into the Force that swirled and flowed around you, you sought clarity about what had transpired that you had previously repressed or shut out. You could recall Bragant’s attack, and you knew this memory to be true as you could still feel the cut on your chest that he had made there with his evilly sharp axe. You were also certain that you had fought back in some manner — the fact that you were alive was evidence of that, knowing that Bragant was not a merciful man, not particularly inclined to allow individuals to escape from his grasp. And as your attention had now been brought to the wound on your sternum, you felt another ache in your body as well — your palm was burning, and you could tell that there was a bandage present there. What had happened to your hand, of all things?

You opened yourself further to the Force, your mind reaching out with trepidation to probe for answers — and then you ran into something that was so surprising, it threatened to disrupt and break the tenuous concentration you held to the Force around you.

From the moment you had met Din on Chandrila, he had always been closed off to you, as if the barriers around his mind were made of beskar as well. You were historically quite good at reading other people, being able to gauge their feelings and occasionally their inner thoughts; but Din had been the first one to throw you off your rhythm. You had been able to communicate and gain insight with Grogu with relative ease, as he was Force-sensitive and receptive to your inquisitions, but Din’s mind had propped up an insurmountable wall against your abilities. You had never made a real, concentrated attempt to work past these barriers, not wanting to violate the trust you shared or intrude where you were not welcome; but as the man that you loved rested against you within the small bunk, you could somehow now access these inner thoughts as you never had been able to before. Instinctively, you pulled back from this non-consensual access, knowing that you had absolutely no right to the knowledge and possession of these thoughts; you wouldn’t want someone else digging around in your head while you slept, and you weren’t going to subject Din to that either.

But the very brief moment of connection and insight that you did have, albeit unintentionally, caused your heart to hammer against your injured chest. There was a maelstrom of emotions and images that tore through Din; relief, terror, joy, trepidation, sorrow, hope, trust, love. You felt each emotion as Din had, images coming forward to accompany the feelings.

Relief, as he had arrived to the scene to see that you were still alive and fighting.

Terror, as Bragant’s body crumpled within your invisible grasp.

Joy, as your eyes opened after uncounted hours spent by your bedside.

Trepidation, as he was worried that any misstep on his part could take you away from him.

Sorrow, as he had watched your body retract into itself, always on the defensive.

Hope, as he knew that the galaxy had kept you together to allow for this story to go on.

Trust, as he had removed his helmet and left the light on.

Love; and that needed no explanation or image.

Tears flowed from your eyes as you took on all of this insight and imagery, having finally gotten a look at what went on behind the beskar. You didn’t know how to begin to process all of this information — it was overwhelming in its wide nature, fully capturing the entire spectrum of human emotion. You pushed it away for a moment, trying to focus on your original goal of understanding what had happened to land the two of you here, injured and terrified.

As you sorted through the context offered by both the Force and Din’s thoughts, you were able to come to a rough understanding of what had transpired after you had lost control in that alleyway, succumbing to the red and black rage that overtook you. It had felt like an avalanche on Hoth, or a sandstorm on Tattooine — incredibly, undeniably powerful, and you were stripped bare by the sheer force of it.

You had killed Bragant, without mercy, and you had enjoyed it. You had no regret for it, even now. And yet... that violent indulgence took something from you, almost took you from this life entirely — and your indulgence of violence had hurt everyone who loved you, as they wondered if you would ever recover from the trauma of it.

You had come to the point in which you had to confront the horrible, undeniable truth — when had you opened yourself up to the Force on Bardotta, you had opened yourself up to both the light and the dark. And on this day, the dark had won out, snuffing out the light within you during its destructive and decimating onslaught. There had been very little resistance to this darkness and its arrival; it had blown through your walls and sense of humanity, just as it had blown through the alley wall that crumbled with the weight of your anger.

You hadn’t been able to stop it, and you were gripped by the terror that this experience may repeat itself, that the uncontrolled darkness could rear its ugly head again. For all of the efforts you had made to learn about the Force, to learn about yourself, it was still not enough to be able to master and control that which warred within you. You had exhausted every known avenue, and it was still not enough. You needed help, more help than you could find for yourself.

It was a daunting prospect to try and wrap your mind around, but you knew that it was not something that could be resolved at this exact moment — so ruminating on it would do very little to help you move forward. Choosing to be present in this moment with Din, in this moment of serenity and security, you pushed these thoughts aside, knowing that the two of you would navigate this new and uncharted course together but at a later time.

Another thought came to mind, as you filed away your worries for another day; when you had gotten a glimpse of Din’s thoughts, you had seen something that had surprised you. He had chosen to remove his helmet before bed, just as he had many times before; that in and of itself was not shocking. What was shocking, however, was the fact that he knowingly made the choice to leave the cabin light on. The small, faraway yellow light did little except allow for one to see an outline or a general shape, but in his moment of relief and exhaustion, he had left it on. You knew that this was no accident — Din had always been exceptionally careful about these things before, even when he was in the worst of states. It was not like him to forget or be careless, as it was simply not in his nature. He had chosen to leave the light on, while he was uncovered and exposed.

Although you had been cuddled against his chest, swaddled securely in his strong arms and the warmth of blankets as you rested with eyes closed, you could tell from the slight glow that the light in the cabin was still on. He had placed an immeasurable amount of trust in you from the first night that the two of you had shared the small bunk, trusting you to not take advantage of the opportunity and seek out something that he was not yet willing to share. And now, the nature of that trust had shifted, had it not? Would he have left the light on intentionally, unmasked in your presence, if he did not feel secure in you seeing his uncovered face?

The prospect of finally being able to look into the eyes of the man that you loved more than life itself was daunting. That word couldn’t even begin to describe the significance of the moment, but it was the best you had. The weight of a moment such as this could not be overstated; you knew that nobody had truly looked into his face since he was a child, and how could you possibly bring yourself to be the one to do so?

You had moved past the point of believing that you would someday need to see his face. You knew the soul that resided within, knew the kind of man he was underneath the armor; that intimate knowledge of his personhood could not be altered, marred, or improved by the sight of a face. And you also understood that the armor was just as much a part of him as his favorite color, as much a part of him as his love for you and the kid. While the armor did keep you apart from him in some regards, it was an extension of himself as well, and you loved it for being a necessary and foundational part of the entire man who you had grown to love.

Din had given you the opportunity to make this choice for yourself, to make the choice about whether you were ready or willing to see his face. But at least for today, you were going to continue to keep your head down, pressed into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart — and for today, that was all you needed.

***

You were unsure exactly how much time had passed before you woke up again, but you recognized the familiar sensation of Din’s hands running across your body, and tangling within your hair. You sighed contentedly, your hand finding its way to his chest to play with the soft hairs that were scattered across his collarbone; you continued to keep your head down, giving Din the answer to the question that hung heavily in the air around you. He hummed beneath you, his large hands and long fingers splaying across your lower back, the tips of his fingers pressing into the soft curve of your ass. You pushed yourself up onto your forearms, draping your body across his as you leaned in for a kiss, keeping your eyes dutifully closed; and despite the lack of sight, the lack of direction, you knew him so perfectly that your lips landed on his without faltering.

You kissed him softly but passionately, loving the way his lips molded against yours; his body responded underneath you, and you could feel the growing erection that pressed into your abdomen. You grinned into his kiss, loving the familiarity and the predictability with which his body reacted to your touch. Your hands traced their way across his chest and upwards into his curling hair, pulling on the tangles at the nape of his neck as you licked into his mouth, needing to taste him, needing him in your mouth and in your body. You were so incredibly lucky to be here with him, the two of you having continually survived for one another; you would never take this for granted again.

He smiled into your kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he responded with enthusiasm; his fingers dug deeper into the pliant and soft skin of your ass, a hand moving lower and lower beneath your pants before he unexpectedly dipped his middle finger into your already-wet center. You gasped at the sudden intrusion before sitting back onto his hand, taking the exploratory digit further inside you. A low rumble came from Din’s chest, sounding like a far-off thunderstorm; and as he began to slide his finger in and out of you, you turned your kisses to his neck, loving the rough feel of his stubble against your smooth lips. You pulled away from him just enough to allow you to shimmy out of your clothes, before you tugged his away as well; feeling the heat of skin on skin, you sighed contentedly into the languid kisses that the two of you exchanged.

“My sweet girl, my perfect girl,” Din whispered, his other hand moving up your body and cupping your breast; he toyed with the already-hardened bud. He sighed into the dip of your collarbone, covering you with sweet kisses that stood out in contrast to the sinful ministrations of his hands. “I was so worried — so worried I’d never get to kiss you, to touch you like this again— I never thought I’d get to feel this, to feel like this, and the thought of losing you —“

You could hear an edge of sadness in his voice, the unwelcome emotion being intrusive and painful like a rock in your shoe; and you wanted to take away all of that sadness and fear. “You’ll always have me, Din; nothing in this galaxy could ever take me away from you.”

He hummed in agreement and satisfaction before inserting another finger into your tight, soaking center, working to warm you up and stretch you out for him. He continued to kiss you sweetly while you gasped against him shallowly, feeling the way that his long fingers curled within you as they dragged against your slick walls and that one perfect spot that made your vision go white. “My girl,” he whispered, his breath tickling at the nape of your neck. “Always be my girl — love you —“

You felt his hand withdraw from its place underneath you, and you whined reflexively before he grabbed you by the waist and turned you onto your back gently, his hand coming up to rest between your head and the pillow to cushion you during the change in position. You were now laying on your back in the small space of the bunk, and you could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you; needing to feel him inside of you, your hand reached down between your aching, needy bodies to cup his balls before giving them a slight squeeze. He groaned at the sensation of your hand against him, his head dropping down to your chest as he enjoyed the sensation. His mouth placed scorching hot kisses all over your torso, not leaving a single inch unloved; and when he came to your breasts, he took your sensitive nipple into his mouth, his tongue tracing torturously light circles against the peaked, swollen bud. Desperate for more of him, desperate to encourage more contact, you moved your hand upwards to wrap around his throbbing cock, before rolling your wrist to bring your hand up, down, up, down.

He hissed in pleasure as you continued to touch him, but then his hand came to rest unexpectedly on yours, stopping your movement. “Want to show you how much I love you, how much I love this pussy — lay back for me, let me take care of my good girl.”

The deep baritone of Din’s voice was now rough and burning with desire, and the gravelly tone of his words sent a shiver down your spine. You let him take control, willingly following his directions; you regretfully pulled your hands away from the warmth of his body, already missing the contact. He shifted lower into the small space of the bunk, and his head came to rest between your thighs; you could feel the messy, overgrown curls tickling you, his closeness heightening your sense of anticipation. Hovering right above your center, you could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin; a soft whine escaped from you as he left you laying there, waiting for him to touch you, taste you, feel you.

He hmmm’ed in pleasure before bringing a gentle but calloused finger up and through your dripping folds, his whispered voice blatantly showing the amusement that he got from teasing you and making you wait for him. “Such a pretty fucking pussy, my sweet girl. What a shame I’m going to destroy it.”

As soon as the explicit promise had left his lips, you felt his mouth come down to cover you whole, his hot tongue licking thickly and thoroughly through you; you could feel him smiling against you as your back arched upwards with the sensation of the heat of his mouth against you. He slowly moved upwards to your clit, lips gently wrapping around the sensitive collection of nerves, and he began to suck gently, his tongue flicking against you, sending white-hot waves of pleasure echoing through your body. With each flick of his tongue, you felt the pressure in your abdomen beginning to build higher and higher; and in response, your thighs pressed harder and harder into the man that rested between them as you chased that high.

Din’s mouth moved away from you to bite at the soft skin of your thighs; a choked sob escaped from you at the loss of contact and stimulation, but he didn’t have you waiting for long. You felt two fingers enter you, spreading you open as they sank deeper; Din’s blaster-calloused thumb came to draw pressured circles onto your clit, and his pinky finger probed at a previously-unexplored entrance. You whimpered at the unexpected sensation, but it didn’t feel bad — just different, unlike anything you had ever experienced. You had never done anything like this before, had never experienced anything like this before; but you trusted Din, trusted him to take care of you and not hurt you.

You started to gasp as you felt his last finger push into you fully; the tightness and feeling of fullness was new but fucking incredible. You cried his name out repeatedly, as your body responded to this new combination of sensations —you could hear the evidence of your enjoyment, the slick and sloppy sounds filling the small space offered by the bunk. You could feel that familiar pressure and heat building with in you, as if a blazing ocean were battering you with its tides; your body was clamped tightly around Din’s hand, keeping him in place and ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to extricate himself away from you again. “That’s a good girl, such a good girl — what a sweet fucking pussy, and that ass — so tight for me, bet nobody’s ever touched you like this before —“

Din’s words served to catapult you higher and higher, your body shaking and writhing beneath him as for a second it almost became too much —

“That’s good —you’re doing so good, just a little more — want you to cum for me, want to feel your tight pussy and your ass when I make you cum—“

A half-choked scream escaped from your shallowly breathing chest, the sound just barely taking the shape of Din’s name as it echoed in the bunk; although you had kept your eyes closed, your vision was still overtaken by waves of blazing red and white fire as your orgasm rocked through your body. You felt an almost otherworldly tightness and pressure as the lower half of your body clamped down and spasmed on Din’s hands, the resulting wetness soaking the two of you completely as you continued to make unintelligible cries and whimpers of pleasure against his burning skin. Din continued to stroke his thick fingers through you as you rode out the undulating waves of your orgasm, and the overstimulation felt as though all of the nerve endings in your body had been run through with a near-deadly course of electricity.

You entire body quaking and shivering, you pulled away from Din and the continued onslaught of his now-dripping hands. You could feel a grin on his face as he reverently kissed your knee, his teeth barely grazing against your skin through the soft gesture. He gave you time to recover and catch your breath before moving away from his place between your thighs, coming to rest next to you. You heard the unmistakeable sound of Din’s fingers in his mouth, licking away your wetness that had covered his hand.

That insistent gesture of adoration did things to you; and as you felt his cock pressed into your stomach, you wanted to give him the same sense of adoration and pleasure that he always gave you. You hummed and planted a kiss onto his wet lips, tasting yourself on them; you opened your mouth to his, and the combination of your shared fluids was exquisite. You reached up to grab his hair roughly, appreciating the resistance that the tangles offered as you pulled, eliciting a groan from the man next to you.

It took some creative movements and positioning of your body, but you managed to find yourself on top of him; you gave his hair another rough tug before your hands moved to grab the throbbing cock that was pressed against your wet and aching center. You could feel him twitching at your touch, growing more erect with the stimulation, and you positioned the tip of his cock right against your folds, letting your slick heat drag across the end of him. He grunted in pleasure as his hands moved to your hips, trying to bring you down to sit on his cock, fully enveloping him; but you resisted his movement, continuing to tease him as you rocked your body across the tip of him. Leaning down to whisper into his ear, you could feel him shudder beneath you. “I want you to be good for me, Din.”

He nodded slowly, almost nervously, and you felt his calloused hands drag themselves up and away from your body.

“Good.” You crooned gently. You continued to drag yourself across his cock, occasionally taking the tip inside you, or allowing your folds to glide across the thick, veined length of him. You seared every grunt, every groan, every please into your mind, loving to watch this fearsome, dangerous man come undone underneath you.

You moved to cup his balls in your soft hand, and a vicious-sounding “Fuck,” escaped from Din’s lips.

“Can you ask me nicely?” You teased, a sinister grin on your face as you felt Din’s muscles contracting, fighting for more stimulation but also wanting to obey your instructions.

“Please, sweet girl —“ Your hips dipped lower, taking him further inside you than before, but not quite giving him everything he wanted. “Please, be my good girl, ride my cock —“

The desperation in his voice made your resolve crack, and you decided you wouldn’t tease him any longer. Your small hand barely wrapping around him, you guided his throbbing erection fully into you, before sitting down a bit forcefully onto his lap, the resulting impact making the both of you cry out. “That’s so good Din, you waited so nicely for me,” you whispered, and you brought yourself back up and away from him, before sitting back down on his cock again. You found a steady rhythm, riding him with relentless force, skin slapping against skin, offering the perfect cacophony of sinful sounds to accompany the cries and hisses that expelled from both you and Din.

You paused your rhythmic motions for just a moment, long enough to turn around so that your ass was thrust forward into Din’s face as you returned to riding his cock. “You feel so fucking good, Din, love the way that cock stretches me out — gods, look at that, look at me taking your cock like a good girl —“

As the words tumbled from your lips, you felt a sudden stinging sensation on your ass cheek, a shockwave running through you as you realized what had just happened — Din had spanked you. And fuck if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing. Trying to egg him on, to get him to do it again, you slowed down to a torturous pace. “Really, Din? Is that what I get for being a good girl?”

You felt his hand come down on your ass again, a stinging heat radiating across your backside. You cackled in response; he had played right into what you wanted —

“That’s what you get for being a dirty fucking girl,” he grunted. “Sitting back on my cock like that, saying all those naughty things—“ He grunted as he grabbed your hips in his large, strong hands before beginning to fuck upwards and into you, pulling your ass back down and into him with an almost bruising force. And gods, did it feel fucking incredible as he drove himself deeper into you than you’d ever thought to be possible, your body crying out at the fullness but also craving it desperately every time he pulled away.

He spanked you again, the sound of his hand cracking against your backside sounding like music to your ears, before his hand came to rest on your steadily bouncing cheek; his thumb moved inwards to allow him better access to those previously-untouched parts of you, and you felt him trace slow, pressured circles around the tense rim. You whimpered into his touch, sinking yourself down deeper onto his cock, your free hand finding its way to gently squeeze Din’s balls; the two of you giving each other the contact that was needed but unspoken.

“Oh, that’s so good, my perfect girl — you’re so fucking good at this, so good at taking my cock — Gods, love watching your perfect pussy take me so well —“ His praises continued to become more and more fragmented, as his thrusts became more erratic and forceful.

“Yes, Din,” you cried out, as his exploratory thumb breached the tight ring of muscle, the combined feelings of fullness and stretching threatening to send you over the edge once again. “Gods, fuck, Din, don’t stop — please, oh please —“

He growled, a low rumble rolling through him like thunder. “Yes, my sweet girl, you’re so perfect — want you to cum for me again, c’mon, be a good girl for me.”

“Yes sir,” you gasped, almost deliriously, a bit of laughter mixed with the burning tension and desire coursing through you. At this, Din’s left hand pulled away from your hip where he had been holding you steady, and you felt another sharp crack on your ass as he spanked you again. Your entire backside was stinging and radiating with pleasure from his blows, and the feeling of Din’s finger in your ass, coupled with his cock thrusting and twitching inside of you, brought you right back to that familiar and dangerous edge. Your nerve endings still ravaged from your previous orgasm, this one felt as though it was charged with electricity, the simultaneous stimulation and desire causing your muscles to tense to the point of actual pain — and then it hit you. You tumbled over the edge of that waterfall, the sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowning out every other sound as you felt your body being absolutely pummeled and beaten by wave after wave of excruciatingly blissful pleasure.

You could hardly catch your breath as you experienced the aftershocks of your orgasm, the feeling of Din’s cock thrusting inside of you being too much — but from the way his hips snapped upwards into yours, you knew that he was getting close to his orgasm as well, and you desperately wanted to feel him cum inside of you — so you pushed away the feelings of overstimulation and focused in on the man who had just wrecked your body with ecstasy.

“Fuck, Din, love it when I cum for you — you’re so fucking amazing, making me cum on your cock like that — want you to cum for me now, wanna feel you cum inside me, please, please—“

His grunts became more guttural and breathless as he continued to bring your aching body down onto his. “Yes, fuck, I love you — I’m going to cum in that perfect fucking pussy,” he moaned, and only seconds later you could feel the heat of his release inside of you, the mixture of your orgasms and Din’s having filled you entirely. His thrusts slowed and then eventually came to a stop, but he remained sheathed inside of you, enjoying the shared warmth and glow of this moment of satisfaction. His thumb pulled away from your ass to swipe across your folds, coating itself in the cum that dripped from your throbbing and exhausted cunt.

The two of you were left breathless and exhausted; you were still positioned in a sitting position above Din, his softening cock still inside of you, but the fatigue that resulted from your tension and release made you sway a bit before you slowly moved to extricate yourself from your current position. You whimpered a bit as Din slid out of you, having gotten accustomed to the stretched feeling; the loss almost felt more intrusive than the penetration. You allowed yourself to roll onto your side unceremoniously, tucking yourself in against Din’s heavily breathing and sweaty form. He draped his arm across you, his hand coming to rest on the soft skin of your stomach, and you turned over to place soft kisses on his chest; you could taste the salt of his sweat when you pulled away.

Sighing contentedly, you focused on bringing your racing heart back to a safe pace; your mind felt completely wiped with bliss, and it seemed as though Din’s earlier fears had been dispelled as well. His rough, stubbled chin rested atop your head, tangling within your hair as he kissed you gently, murmuring your name into this beautiful moment as though he was carving it into memory.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl. Love it when you let me take care of you.” He paused for a second before speaking again, the tone of his voice shifting slightly. “I will always take care of you.”

You could feel the wholesome weight of that promise settle into the air around you, quelling the indecent and explicit energy that had previously resided here. You loved Din with your whole heart, your whole body, your whole spirit, in a way that you had never loved anybody before. It felt as expansive and endless as the Force, as timeless and infinite as the galaxy, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would contentedly spend an infinite number of lifetimes with him, if only given the opportunity. You fully intended to spend this entire lifetime with him, and you believed — no, you knew — that he felt the same towards you.

Allowing yourself the momentary entertainment of some self-indulgent daydreams, your thoughts turned towards the future and what it may hold for your odd little family; you didn’t know anything about Grogu’s aging or development, so that would be a perpetual wild card, but you and Din were both human, and would presumably continue to grow older together, building up years of shared experiences. Maybe one day the three of you could go away for a bit, shrugging off the weight of your respective work and obligations, and take the time to truly enjoy one another’s company without the threat of a deadline or violent interruption. Maybe Grogu would like to climb ancient and towering trees; maybe Din would like to hear the sound of the ocean, without the interference of his helmet. Had he ever heard the unfiltered roar of the ocean before? Having spent so many years next to the ocean, as torturous as those years may have been, the comforting sound of constant and unyielding waves was... unrivaled. It was one of the few things that had kept you grounded, that had reminded you that did in fact exist, and you were an integral piece of the universe that you existed within — and that truth could not be contested.

Maybe one day, the three of you could settle in somewhere both solitary and cozy; have a shared space that was both private and familiar.

Maybe one day, you and Din would find the right time to be wholly seen, in the light. Maybe one day, you and Din would commit to each other in an irrevocable and distinct way.

You were admittedly ignorant about the significance, or even prevalence, of marriage for Mandalorians, but regardless of the nature of your current and future union, you knew that it would continue to be unbreakable just as Din’s beskar. You loved him fully, and intended to stay by his side, come hell or high waters; a piece of jewelry or a paper contract wouldn’t change the nature of your love, and the bonds you had forged with this family you had found. Thinking on it, the idea of marriage somehow almost seemed too pedestrian for a Mandalorian, for a man like Din Djarin; but somewhere deep down, you knew that would he ever ask, you would say yes with your whole heart. As you laid against his steadily-beating chest, your mind wandered to places it had not tread in quite a while.

You had heard stories before about oceanic planets, and the dangers that the seas and shorelines presented to their inhabitants; you recalled stories of strong tides and hidden stones, that would lure ships into their seemingly-safe grasp before crashing them against the unforgiving rocky coastlines. The thought of nature possessing that kind of power, and that kind of indifference, was terrifying to many; but the inhabitants of these unyielding planets had found ways to subvert some of nature’s destructive tendencies, erecting lighthouses along the shorelines that guided incoming ships to safety. These lighthouses were manned and maintained by solitary individuals, who had made the decision to dedicate their lives to keeping others safe; but they did not seek out this isolated role, this solitary lifestyle, to be recognized as a hero — they chose it because they believed it to be the right thing to do. They guided others to safety, through dark and treacherous waters, and did not seek or need any praise; the only reward that was needed was to see that life went on to live another day, to know that they had guided another person to safety with their light.

Din Djarin was your lighthouse-keeper.

In that moment, laying there against his steadily rising and falling chest, you decided that one day, you would find a way to bring Din to an ocean, to let him sit amongst the whirling winds, and the roaring and crashing tides. You would allow him the security to remove his helmet, to experience everything wholly, to feel the salty breeze and sand, to feel the stinging cold saltwater, to feel the impossibly strong tide and infinite weight of the ocean extending against eternity; and maybe then, you would be able to tell him that ‘this is just a glimpse of how much I love you.’

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다섯: 강한 감정

5: Strong Feelings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It was a new day, and after your encounter yesterday with the man in charge, you were sort of on edge with everything.

“Hey there Eri. I heard you got new books to read.” Your hand reached to a box, opening it you found picture books along with fantasy chapter books. “Do you have a preference for any of these?”

She picked out the most colorful picture book. “You want to read the Paper Dragon?”

You picked up the book and looked at the cover. It was very colorful. She smiled widely, reaching out for the book with awe. “Okay!” You chuckled playfully sitting on her bed, she followed behind and brushed up against you.

You began reading, trying your best to make it entertaining, you even got one of the guards to laugh, a golden blonde haired man. You’ve never seen him until now, his eyes were a boost in mood, and you could tell he was smiling at certain moments.

The book was finished and Eri was way more excited about books, she jumped up but only fell on top of you as she laughed loudly.

“Ms, L/n, could you read another?”

“Why dont we do something better?”

Eri’s eyes lit up, wondering what could be better than a book. You stood up and went up to another box, you looked through to find one pair of child scissors and a bunch of colorful paper. You pulled out stacks and stacks and put them on the ground.

You waved eri over and pulled out a stack of papers. They were orgami papers with various colors. “We can make a paper dragon and hang it up on the ceiling” eri’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Oragami is one of the best things they teach you in school. Only because you can create anything out of paper by just folding.”

You divided the colors as quickly as you could before guiding eri through a talk. “Choose the colors and 12 pieces of paper.” She started picking out the colors, mostly being blues and purples, and everyone watched as she chose.

“Okay, and then now we are going to take the first piece.” You grabbed a random sheet of paper and sat on the ground across from her. You started to fold the paper and looked at eri to see if she followed. “And fold it... like that.” She did as she was told and smiled cheerfully while doing it.

Continuing, you explained and showed her every step. She followed delightfully. And the end result came to be two dragons long and proud. “And so now choose a color.” You offered the marker case and she randomly chose. It was purple. You picked out a black marker and picked up your dragon. “Draw a face.” You drew two little dots to signify eyes and a smile.

She did the same but instead had the tongue stick out. You both chuckled as you stood up, stretching. You looked at the clock on the side of her bed and sighed. “Looks like I need to go.” You groan and she followed with a sigh.

“Eri, I will be back tomorrow to hopefully do another fun activity. Maybe we’ll draw tomorrow.” Eri ran up and hugged, tightly gripping on your pants. She let go, but her stare seemed extra saddened. “See you tomorrow. Eat well.”

She nodded to that and you were escorted out. The man guiding you out had long golden hair. His mask fit snugly on his face, his green shirt adorned with a pinkish red tie.

You breathed softly as he guided you back to your room. “Does anyone ever talk?”

He looked at you, as if to smile. “Yeah, but usually to each other. Not really to the head.”

“The head... oh you mean Overhaul right?” He nodded in agreement. “What’s your name?”

“If you need to know, I’m Setsuno Toya.” He said it as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was glad about the short lived conversation.

“Well, thank you Setsuno. Hopefully we can talk again.” He unlocked the doors with a bow, and you bowed again.

When entering you ripped off the mask and dropped it on your desk looking at the warm food displayed on the corner. It looked to be an American dish, specifically pizza. Toppings were placed on the side of the plate mostly meats.

You nodded to yourself and dug in, loving the warmth of the food. You closed your eyes enjoying the savory taste. It was a simple dish, and it tasted homemade. You wondered who made it and where, since you hadn’t smelled anyones cooking while with Eri.

You finished up, and looked around the desk, clothes laid out on the top and a new mask. You rolled your eyes feeling like a doll with all these clothes.

You rummaged through though, curious as to what they were. It was a blue short skirt, with black shorts, and a white button up blouse to match. It was as if it was made for a summer evening, or a date.

The thought made you chuckle as you threw them on the bed. To think you had a secret admirer was funny to also think about. The world built itself on soulmates, why would anyone play around with that.

The thought then hit you. “Fate... wouldn’t put me here right?” And you couldn’t play around with the thought of that because you couldn’t physically touch anyone.

Everyone had protection and you feel like you’d be killed if you were to touch someone. You tried to laugh the thought away but it lingered, and it scared you.

The clothes fit perfectly. Of course, and you felt good in it despite the earlier thoughts. You honestly thought you looked good in blue.

You enjoyed twirling around in it not being bothered to hear the door click open. You stopped twirling to feel good about yourself only to be met with the man in white.

Your face matched a shade of tomato as you went to try and hide yourself. You bowed to him apologizing silently. He simply bowed to you as well verbally apologizing for disrupting.

“I just came to get you for the meeting.”

You cleared your throat as you nodded. You grabbed the mask on the desk and threw it on still blushing embarrassingly. You walked out with him trying your best to slow your heart rate.

“Chrono right?” He nodded. “You’re like his right hand man, correct?”

“Yes, despite his demeanor he’s actually good.”

“I wasn’t doubting him, I was just going to ask... Why all this?”

Chrono looked at you not understanding the question. “Why this whole base? It seems eerie and too much.”

“Overhaul.” Chrono paused and thought about what to say. “He want’s to change the world. He wants an old image to come back.” Chrono nodded to his statement and continue guiding.

“So, it’s to better society... Correct?”

He nodded and that seemed to lift a burden from you somehow.

Chrono slowly opened the door and to welcome you was the same masked face you had seen last night. This time his tie was loosely around his neck, and he seemed more stressed than anything.

“Welcome Back!” Overhaul greeted you with open arms as he watched you sit. “Hopefully today wasn’t too overbearing.”

“No, of course not. Me and Eri simply read and did origami. Which I thank you for getting supplies for that.”

“So, I see you guys are getting along.” He adjusts his tie and looks off into the distance. “Do you have any other requests?”

Your eyes darted to his face immediately wondering what context. “To take care of Eri.” You were shaky now. Your head wanted to explode as you thought of other things to request that wasn’t for the benefit of Eri.

“Just supplies to draw with.” He nodded and looked at you pleasingly.

“And do you need anything? Specific things you had in your living quarters that you need here.”

You pondered. “If possible. A small library.” Your request seemed to peek his interest, and he simply chuckled.

“Very well.” His hand issued you away, and Chrono guided you out.

“Chrono. How can you tell when Overhaul likes someone?” It was a bold statement and you felt as if he wouldn’t answer properly.

“Don’t worry. He likes you just fine.” He gave you a genuine answer, making you think.

“Now, get some rest. And leave a note of all your favorite breakfast items under the door. Our ‘chef’ wants to make your stay here interesting and home-y.” He left with a nod.

You smiled, not a big smile, because what was there to smile about. You turned on the small lamp light on your desk and scanned your room feeling something off.

Flowers were on your nightstand. Not the ones from before but new ones. White roses. They filled the whole room with a beautiful scent.

You rushed to find another note under the vase, your hands feeling the hand writing. Beautiful cursive saying

‘You’re like a beautiful dove amongst a trash filled park. You stand out like a sore thumb. You please me without knowing it, and for that I keep you near.’

You couldn’t help but shiver as you read it. A smile wider than usual filled itself along your face.

“Beautiful.”

Someone is playing with the strings of fate, and falling for you evidently. You held the note close to your heart laughing loudly as you thought of who it could be.

Your heart fluttered as you thought of the man in white. He seemed to have more personality in this place than anyone else, and he’s seen you the most.

You giggle at the thought, and the thought of not even seeing his face filled you with mysterious happiness.

It was like being in grade school again...

Hey hey! Its Lay. I am sad to inform you that I am sick. I have covid and so it’s hard to get things done while sick. So sorry if uploads are delayed, and or not posted weekly. I’m trying my best, and hopefully you guys support me all the way through.

And if you want content from me everyday, I have a tiktok. I try my best to post everyday, but if you like overhaul here, you’ll definitely like overhaul over there! Thank you so much for reading and hopefully you stay healthy!

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