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ssuperficialspacecadett · 2 years

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Seeing Isn't Always Believing

Chapter Seven of the One Condition Series | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: Mando comes back after three week on Corellia, but something about him doesn't sit right with you.

Notes: I'm going to link the candle I burn while I write these stories because it has influenced me to make Mando smell the same way. It is literally heaven sent.

I also have been thinking of songs that remind me of the relationship between Mando and the reader. One that I have really loved for them is "Cowboy like Me" by Taylor Swift. The lines "And the skeletons in both our closets / Plotted hard to mess this up" really speaks to both of them. They are dealing with so much trauma and are trying to navigate life with that weight on their shoulders. I hope this translates well and I don't sound crazy HAHAHA. I personally like it when authors attach songs so I wanted to try my hand at that as well. Feel free to listen if you want !! — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Three and a half weeks to be exact.

Tin Man has been gone for three and a half weeks. You cringe at how stir crazy you had become when he was gone for only a week. This was a whole new level of losing your mind. You were fine the first week and a half in your defense. You and the child had slipped back into the routine of wake up, eat breakfast, play, nap, eat lunch, play, eat dinner, go to bed. This kept the both of you on a schedule so neither of you had time to wonder when The Mandalorian would return to the two of you. When the second week came along things had started to plateau. The child grew bored of the monotony of your perfectly curated time table and wanted more variety. The worst part was you couldn’t even blame him. You wanted more too, but the issue was there really wasn’t much more to do.

You started sprinkling in baths for him during the day or before bed time. He was much too small to take a shower by himself in the fresher so you would plug the sink up and fill it with warm water. You learned that he was quite fond of bubbles and was clearly stumped at the fact that his beloved metal ball didn’t float on top of the water like the bubbles did. He would scream before you placed him in his bath and then scream again when you went to finally take him out. But he did love to be dried off. You would sit on the covered toilet seat with him, wrapped in a blanket, and tell him stories of what Eadu was like when you were a child. When you finally got time to yourself, a rarity, you were much too tired to do anything of substance.

When the third week rolled around you decided that the hull needed a deep clean. You spent hours on your hands and knees scrubbing every surface you could. Once you even stood on the crates to reach the ceiling above your bed. After countless nights of staring at it you swear you had the specks of dust that littered it etched into your mind for all eternity. You did most of your cleaning while the child napped or went to bed, but on some occasions you would do it while he was awake. Not that the little shit was very helpful. You would be wiping down a panel and then hear him babble something up at you as if to say “you missed a spot.” On those days you wanted to kill him.

You did your laundry incessantly. What else would kill time like hand washing each individual article of clothing you owned? Each time you would go to lay your clothes out a small twinge of anxiety would shoot through your body at what happened the last time. Honestly, Mando had been gone so long you were practically begging The Maker to have him walk in on you laying your underwear out to dry. Just a single thing to break up the agonizing stillness your life had become. Finally he answered your pleas.

Dinner came and went, you did the dishes, put the baby to sleep in his crib, and were lounging in your bed reading a maintenance manual for The Crest. Invigorating. When the ramp closest to your bed begins to open your body jumps at the piercing sound. Tin Man is finally back! You hurry out of bed, manual forgotten on your pillow, and run to stand beside the crates to see him enter the hull.

When you see him your heart flutters; it has been so long. You convince yourself that the only reason you are feeling this way is because now you will finally have another person who can actually talk back to you. Not that you don’t love the kid, but having a one sided conversation for over three weeks almost drove you to insanity.

He walks into the hull slower than usual. The more you watch him the more he seems off to you. Mando’s normal confident saunter has been replaced with an almost drunk-like stumble. His once gleaming armor is dull. It’s caked in dirt, dust, grime, blaster ash and blood. You see a rope in his right hand and follow it. Holding back a gasp, you see the body of a quarry slowly getting dragged aboard. Mando finally lifts a heavy helmet to look up at you.

“It’s okay. He’s dead.”

“It’s okay? Are you okay?” You are still rooted in your spot beside the crates.

“Just a little t-tired tha’s all.” He is practically slurring his words. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was at a cantina having one to many.

Before you can say anything else he tredges his body, and the quarries, over to the carbonite chamber. Doing your best to be helpful you head over to the ramp to close it. You guys are still on Corellia after all and clearly Mando isn’t in any state to help if someone snuck in. When the ramp begins closing you turn your body back to face him. He has somehow managed to get the lifeless body of the quarry upright into the chamber, but now he's just staring at it. You cautiously walk over to him and rest your hand on the arm that's hovering over the machines ‘start’ button. While his reaction is a little delayed he jumps at your sudden presence.

“Hey, it’s me.” You tell him just above a whisper. You slowly slide your hand down his arm until you come to rest on his hand. You lightly push down on the button together. You look up at him as the machine starts to spew its sickly chemicals. He doesn’t move at all. He doesn’t move his hand out from under yours. He doesn’t meet your eyes. You’re starting to panic a little now. Only after the chamber powers down and the quarry has been sufficiently frozen do you speak.

“Tin Man? What’s wrong?”

He takes a while before responding. You can still hear him breathing; it is just more shallow.

“Shower.”

“Let me help you then. Will you let me?” You place your hand around his waist and slowly turn his body in the direction of the fresher. Together the two of you make your way over there. When you reach the door he just stops. As if he can’t comprehend why the door won't open. You lean out to press the doors button while still trying to support his quickly slumping body. It’s a tight squeeze for the two of you inside the small room, but you manage to get him to sit on the covered toilet seat. You make sure he’s safe to support himself on his own before you go and turn the water on. Your heart rate is rapidly picking up. You don’t know what is wrong. You haven't ever seen him like this before. When he comes back from hunts he is usually fine. You return to him when the water temperature is comfortable and kneel down in front of his body.

“Is there anything you need me to do? I want to do something, but I-”

“Armor. I-I need help with my armor.”

You begin with his boots, socks, and gloves. Next you move on to the beskar that covers his thighs, then his forearms, shoulders, and finally his chest. You toss each item out of the small fresher door without a second thought. The loud clang they make as they hit the ground is lost on you. The only thing you hear is your blood roaring in your ears.

“Do you think you can do the rest yourself?” You have left him in his thick black shirt and pants and helmet. You get a small nod in response to your question. While you're hesitant to leave, you make your way out of the fresher and close the door behind you. You wait outside the door until you hear him start to move to undress himself the rest of the way and get into the shower.

Corellia must have been worse than he let on all those weeks ago. Maker, his armor looks awful. You trace a finger over the Mudhorn insignia and flake off a piece of dirt. As the crumb falls to the floor you get an idea. You hop up and make your way over to the rags that you had been using to clean The Crest with and select the cleanest looking one of the bunch. Then you get to work. You scrub, wipe, and rub the rag over each and every piece of armor. The shower water acts as your music for this whole process. You tackle the chest piece first since it had most of the debris caked on it. You wonder what happened that caused all of these blaster marks. Sometimes the gunk was so stuck to the beskar you had to use your nails to get it off. Not even ten minutes into your cleaning process you decide to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Mando’s right; blowing your hair out of your face while you work is distracting.

You’re on the last piece of armor, his right vambrace, when you hear the shower water finally turn off. He has to have been in there for at least an hour. There’s some small shuffling sounds behind the door, presumably him drying off, and then you hear your name being called faintly.

“Yes?”

“Can you put your blindfold on for me, please?” He sounds like he is right up against the door as he speaks. His voice, while quiet, is unmodulated.

“Uhh sure alright.” You stand and dust your hands off before you untie your band from its normal resting spot and reposition it. “Now what?”

You hear the door in front of you open and inhale deeply. The air that comes out of the fresher is warm and smells clean and masculine. A hand softly grazes your cheek and you feel your whole body shudder. It has been so long since he touched you. Seeing him barely make it into the hull took up all the space in your mind, but now those feelings were quickly disappearing the longer he rested his hand on your face.

“Come to bed with me?” His voice still sounds so tired. You nod against his hand. He sets something down, most likely his clothes and helmet, and takes your hand in his. He leads your blind body over to his room and opens the door. He lets you crawl in first and then follows suit. As he is getting comfortable, your hand brushes against his naked chest. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you realize the rest of him must be just as bare. You feel around by your feet and find the covers to pull them up over the both of you. He lets out a groan when the back of his head finally hits the pillow. When you move to lay back down next to him he takes your left leg and moves it to rest over his waist. Yep, the rest of his body is definitely naked. Snuggling yourself into his arm you place your hand on his chest and breathe in his scent. The soap he uses must be an infusion of fennel and pine. It mixes with his natural scent to create a soft musky aroma. You try to imprint it in your mind permanently. His body still has residual warmth left from the shower. A few drops of water from his hair drip onto your forehead and nose. You smile to yourself and scoot closer to him. Mando brings the arm you're laying on to rest by your lower back.

“Goodnight, Tin Man.” You whisper into his neck. He doesn’t respond as sleep has already found its way to his body.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I didn’t want to have to do this old man.” You crack your tear filled eyes and see Alden crouched over a slumped body. “If you had just told me where you keep the money I wouldn’t have had to hurt you or her.” He gestures to you with the still smoking blaster in hand. You selfishly wonder where he hid his original weapon: the blade.

“T-this isn’t my doing, A-alden.” The man sounds so weak on the floor. You can hear how ragged his breathing has become due to the blaster wound. “This is a mess you made a-all on your own. You chose t-to walk t-this path.”

“I grow weary of your lectures, Bumi.” Alden moves the blaster under the man's chin. “I spared her, but I have no intention of showing you the same mercy.”

“Mercy? Y-you hardly know the meaning of the word, boy.” You see the man's head sag to the ground after he breathes his last word.

“No. NO! FUCK!” Alden stands and places both of his hands behind his head. He starts frantically pacing around and muttering things under his breath.

You feel a scream forming in your own throat at the sight before your eyes.

“NO!” You shoot up from where you were laying on the cot. The man next to you wakes just quickly.

“What is it? What happened? Are you alright?” Mando sounds panicked as he questions you in the darkness.

“I’m sorry I,” you try to slow your breathing. “I just had a bad dream. It’s nothing. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You feel him fully sit up next to you in bed. “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

“No. No I don’t.” You lay back down on the pillow and dig the palms of your hands into your banded eyes until you see stars. “I want to forget, Tin Man. I just want to forget.”

Mando leans back on the cot, but props himself up on his forearm. You can feel his breath tickle the skin on the backs of your hands. He must be looking down at you.

“I can help you forget if that’s what you want.” He traces a single finger up the front of your arm. Your body reacts to his touch before your mind does. Your palms slowly remove themselves from your face and fall to your sides. His finger detaches from your skin only to change position. He now starts to trail it up the inside of your arm. You turn to where he sounds like he is in the darkness.

“Make me forget. Please.”

Warm lips come down to press kisses to your shoulder. You exhale deeply and sink into the feeling. You bring your hand up to touch the side of his face. His beard is soft against your skin. Mando kisses up to the muscle between your neck and shoulder and lightly bites down on it. You moan out softly into the darkness and thread your fingers through his messy hair. He has barely begun to touch you and yet you already feel arousal pooling in your underwear. No man has ever been able to reduce you to such a trembling mess the way he has the ability too. One single touch and you become putty willing to mold into anything he so desires. Maker, how did you let this happen?

You turn your body on your side, cup his face in both hands, and bring him to your lips. The two of you meld together as he circles both of his arms around your body and pulls you deeper into him. His cock pressing against you, already tenting under the covers. You moan into his mouth at the feeling of being so close to him. Your clit is already pulsing dangerously with need. He dips his tongue into your mouth to find yours. A beautiful dance erupts between the two of you. Neither one leading, simply existing together. With one hand still on the small of your back he slides his other down your pants. When he feels how wet you are through your underwear he smiles into your mouth.

“I haven’t even done anything to you, pretty thing.”

“Then let’s change that.” You pant.

He easily glides a finger into you and you roll your head back. You lips brush his nose as you do this. Mando takes your exposed neck as an invitation to lavish you with kisses. Still pumping his finger into you he kisses his way up to your pulse point and starts sucking. Your desperate moaning is a symphony in his ears.

“More, Mando. More.”

“Whatever you want.” He speaks your name into your skin as he slides a second finger inside you.

“Oh fuck.” You roll your head back forward and kiss him hungrily. You start to fuck down onto his hand and chase your release. He moves his thumb to your clit and starts to rub tight circles on it. You whimper into him again and he picks up speed in his fingers. He starts scissoring them inside you. The hand on the small of your back moves up to grip your hip to aid you in moving up and down on his fingers. You feel yourself clench tightly around him as he finds your g-spot deep within you.

“I want-”

“Tell me.” He says against your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel your cock inside me, Mando.”

He growls at your words and removes his fingers from your hole.

“I want you to taste yourself first.”

He slides his fingers past your lips and you suck him clean. You didn’t realize how much doing this would arouse you. Your tongue licks over each of his two fingers. His breathing gets more shallow the longer and harder you suck on them. You release his fingers from your mouth with a pop, but before he can react you throw your body over his and pin him to the cot. You slide your hands from his strong stomach to his chest and then his shoulders. His body feels tense with desire under yours. His erect cock further confirms this by being pressed firmly against your ass.

You move your hands back to his stomach and then reach down to the hem of your own shirt. You take it off in one swift motion and toss it behind you. His stomach tightens under you as you sit bare chested on top of him.

“Beautiful. Maker, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You feel yourself blush and shrink away at his words. You wish you could tell him the same thing. You already think he's beautiful. Well as beautiful as he can be shrouded in beskar. The way he carries himself, how he talks, the intimate way he interacts with both you and the child, and how underneath that hard shell he seems to slowly be revealing a soft interior. To you he is the most beautiful man you have ever met and yet you haven’t even gazed upon his face.

Leaning down in the darkness you kiss his stomach hoping he can feel what you want to say through your lips. You slowly trace your tongue along his skin. He hisses out at you when you latch onto him and begin leaving sweet bruises for him to find later. You grind your ass against his hardened cock and moan.

“I need you, Mando. I want to ride you.”

His words get caught in his throat as you attach yourself to his skin again.

You sit up and remove the covers that bound his thick cock. He groans as you rub yourself over him.

“Take off your clothes.”

You do as he commands and slip off your pants and underwear before returning to your seat on his stomach.

“Better?” You coo at him.

“Yes fuck.”

You position yourself over him and start sliding your slick folds along him. His hands shoot up to your hips and help your body find its rhythm. His coarse hair stimulates your clit and you grab onto his hands. You can’t take it anymore. You need to feel him inside of you. You rise on already shaky thighs and grab hold of his cock to guide him in. Just the tip entering causes you to clench around him. You place your hands over his again and start to slide down his length. You can feel him stretching you out. Your body is so ready for him, but it still reels from his sheer size. The two of you moan in unison when you finally take all of him inside you. After a few seconds of heavy breathing and adjusting to him you start to move your body up and down. His hands tighten on your hips with each motion. You feel his hips start to buck up to meet your downward thrusts.

“You’re so big, Mando. I can feel you everywhere.”

He mewls at your words and thrusts up harder into you. You are gripping his hands so hard that you won't be surprised if he has crescent moon marks from your nails etched into his skin. The longer you ride the shakier your legs get, but you don’t stop. The burning in your legs is only second to the burning in your lower belly. You need to cum and you know he needs to as well.

You unlatch your hands from him and move them to his stomach. With this new change in position comes a different angle that his cock is slamming up into you at. You cry out his name as he now has unadulterated access to your sweet spot. He hits it over and over again. Your nails now dig into the skin of his stomach at the sensation.

Mando can’t help but be in awe of you. You know what you want and you're taking it. Watching your breasts bounce up and down while you ride him was a sight he knows he will never get tired of seeing. The first time the two of you had sex he had bent you over a crate so he never got to fully appreciate them. He will never make that mistake again. When you took your shirt off in front of him he was glad you had a blind fold on. He didn’t think his jaw could drop the way it did. He had to tell you how beautiful he thought you were and with the way you reacted he wondered if you had ever been told that before by a man. Or by anyone for that matter.

“Fuck. You take me so well.” He stutters out your name.

All you can do is moan in response as you thrust your body down to meet him. He detaches his right hand from your hip and reattaches it to your clit.

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Does that feel good like that? I fucking bet it does.” His thumb works fervently on you as you will yourself to grind down faster. You can feel your climax coming quickly. You aren't sure how much longer you are going to last.

“It feels so fucking good, please!” You scream out.

“Cum for me, pretty thing.”

As if The Maker himself willed it you feel your orgasm explode throughout your body. That doesn't stop Mando from continuing to mercilessly pump into you and rub your clit until you're delirious. Right when you think you're coming down from your high, another orgasm slams into you. This one is even more powerful than the last. Your walls constrict around his cock and he yells your name into the darkness as his own orgasms crests. You’re filled with the sweet sensation of his hot, thick ropes of cum filling you up completely.

Mando’s hand still grips on your hip as your body succumbs to the pure pleasure coursing through your veins. You know there will be bruises blossoming on your skin soon with how hard he was palming you there. Your body falls forward to rest on his chest. Both of you lay there sweaty and gasping for air. His cock still resting deep inside you.

Mando kept his word. He did make you forget. The feelings of loathing, anger, and melancholy brought on by your dream have been replaced with lust, bliss, and desire. You feel good and wanted and maybe even happy? You feel his lips connect with your forehead as you lay blindfolded and weak from your multiple orgasms. You hum up to him in appreciation for what he did for you.

“Did it help?” He still sounds out of breath.

“Yeah. It really did.”

When you go to move off of Mando’s body your legs nearly give out. You let out an airy laugh as his cock slides out of you. You feel empty, in more ways than one, as he leaves you. He helps you swing your left leg over his body to settle down next to him. You feel both of your arousals mix and start to leak down your thighs. You scoot closer to him and sigh at the feeling.

“Do you want me to grab you a towel?”

“No, that's okay. I kinda like it actually.”

He lets out a small chuckle above you. He doesn’t know if he is laughing at what you said specifically or that fact that what you said already has him hardening again. You have begun to have a strange power over his body that he can’t explain.

“Tin Man?”

“Hmmm?”

“What happened to you? Why were you so weak when you came back to The Crest?”

“I uhh,” he clears his throat. “I hadn’t slept in a while.”

“What does ‘a while’ mean?”

His hand reaches over his chest to start rubbing on your arm. He always seems to want to feel your skin. He always finds some way to have his bare hands on you whenever given the chance. It clicks in your brain that it must be because he, like yourself, is touch starved. You are touch starved by your own choice however. He is bound by his creed. Forced to hide that beautiful warm skin, that lulling unmodulated voice, those dexterous hands, those soft lips, and that full head of hair. He must want to soak up at much contact with your body as he can until he inevitably has to leave this room. Once he leaves the spell is broken and reality sets back in for the both of you.

“Maybe five days?”

“Five days?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

He only pats on your arm as you start to sit up. “I used to do it all the time when I was younger. I haven’t done it in a while though. Corellia is a rough planet so I had to stay alert as much as possible. I never knew when I would get close to the quarry or when I would be in a safe area. There aren’t many of those there so I just had to stay awake.”

“That is insane.”

“This is the way.”

“Don’t ‘this is the way’ me. Something bad could have happened to you out there and I would have had no way of knowing.”

“Awww, pretty thing. Are you saying you care about me?” He moves his hand up under your chin and holds it between his fingers.

“Well,” your words falter as you feel his lips brush over yours.

“Well what?” He decides to torture you by kissing the sides of your mouth leisurely.

“Well, maybe I do, but only a little.” You huff out.

You can feel him smiling against you. He moves up to kiss the tip of your nose quickly before lying back down again. You can’t help but bury your face in the side of his chest to hide your own smile.

“Tin Man?”

“Yes?”

“Can I touch you?”

He laughs as he talks. “Didn’t we just spend the last 45 minutes doing that?”

“No no not like that. I want to touch you.”

“I-I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“I want to touch your face, but only if you're comfortable with it.”

You feel his body tense only slightly as your words settle in the air. You have touched his face before so it's not as if this is something unheard of. You just haven't had the ability to really explore it. You want to create a mental image of him in your mind. You want to allow him the pleasure of being touched in a way you know he desperately craves.

“If that’s too much I don’t want to over step-”

He cuts you off. “It’s not too much. It's just that no one has done that since I was a kid.”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yeah…I think that would be okay. Your blindfold is still on?”

“It’s been on since you came out of the fresher.”

“Then I’m ready.”

You reposition yourself until you are sitting next to him on your knees. You're fighting hard to stay focused as the change in your body forces more of Mando’s cum to slide out of you. You clear your throat and feel out for him in the darkness. When your hands make contact with his face you feel a puff of air come from his lips. The beard under your hands tickles a bit. You move your hands in a mirrored way across his face. You feel a small patch on each side of his chin that doesn't have any hair.

“Shaving accident?”

“Actually I’ve never been able to grow hair there. It makes me look scraggly.”

“I think it's sweet.”

You lean down and press a kiss to each of the patches in his beard before continuing your blind exploration. You move up and feel a well groomed mustache. He wiggles it under your prying fingers. He quirks his lips up to kiss each of them. You aren't sure who is supposed to be enjoying this more: you or him. You make your way up slowly to his cheeks, careful not to hit his eyes, and feel the skin there. It is so much softer than his hands you note. Untouched by the harsh world he lives in everyday. You crawl up to his nose. Oh maker what a nose. It feels like it has a deep slope that comes down to a soft curve at the end. You shiver at the idea of riding it one day in the future. Stay focused.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just like the way your nose feels.”

“It’s so big.”

“I think it’s handsome.”

You lean towards him again and kiss all the way down the bridge of his nose. Making sure to do it unhurriedly so he knows you truly mean what you say. You travel up between his eyebrows and allow each hand to explore its respective brow. They are thick and full. When you reach his forehead you feel him scrunch it. Two prominent lines form on his skin under your hands.

“Those are from the stress you cause me.”

“Don’t be mean, Tin Man.” You coyly chide before adorning them with kisses as well.

Finally you reach his hair. It’s so unruly right now. Part of it is still damp from his shower all those hours ago. You run your hands through it carefully so you don’t pull on a knot. You wonder to yourself what color it is. You recall back to when he showed you that scar on his arm. You remember the hair on it being dark, but not dark enough to be black. You decide to settle on deep brown for the painting you are constructing in your mind. When you are thoroughly satisfied with your exploration you remove your hands from his hair and lay them to rest on your thighs.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? Completely painless.”

“It wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t painless.”

“What?”

He takes your hand and moves it down to reveal how hard he has become. You brush over the tip with your fingers and feel pre-cum dribbling out.

“You see what you do to me?”

“Well not really, Mando.” You cock your head to the side and smirk. “I can’t see anything.”

“Oh you brat.”

He pulls you down to the cot; now it’s his turn to have you pinned on your back. His dick twitches at the joyous laughter you let out. He wonders how he got so lucky to have found you in this vast galaxy. This is the last thing he thinks before he takes you for the second time tonight.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#the mandalorian #din dijarin fanfiction #din x reader #din x you #mando x reader #mando x you #slow build #slow burn #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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abyssalcunters · 1 year

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humbly requesting some andreana in heat while the other hunters are away akfjsjdjsh 👉👈

OOOOOOOH YOU ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE GIRL

As tended to happen to her, it hit Andreana at the most inconvenient possible time.

She felt it as she was finishing lunch, a molten heat dripping down her spine, her tentacles curling tight against her back of their own accord, dropping their normal subtle striping for a deep, uniform grey.

She felt it ripple over her skin, hot pins and needles as chromatophores in her skin shifted, the same glistening grey shimmering along her thighs, up her chest, only with a fierce exertion of her will preventing it from spreading down her arms or up her neck, sweat beading at her temple with the effort.

“Andi? Are you okay?”

Andreana twitched, coming back to herself, tentacles squeezing tighter unconsciously as her eyes flicked up to see the rest of her table looking at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. The exception was Kirara, who glanced at her from where she was tucked into Utage’s side with a sympathetic wince as Andreana tugged her mask back up over her mouth, making hasty excuses before darting out of the cafeteria.

I guess there must be a God, Andreana thought as she staggered through her door, her two denticulated tentacles crawling up her shirt of their own accord, lacing rings beading with blood over her chest as they tugged, harsh, not harsh enough, at her breasts, because he Fucking hates me.

She closed her eyes, sinking back against the door, two (non-toothed, thankfully) arms deft with dedicated practice slipping her belt loose and allowing her pants to drop free around her knees.

It hit her in full force as she dragged one arm through her arousal-damp bush, knees buckling with the wave of desperation sweeping through her at the merest hint of touch, of satisfaction.

It wasn’t close to enough, though.

Andreana knew it wasn’t even as she worked the first arm into her, a keening sob tearing from her throat at the sensation of being filled, at nearing some scrap of relief before the rising tide of her heat yanked it away from her again.

Why did it have to be now? Her Hunters, her podmates (as Skadi called them) out of reach, the three of them in Iberia for the next day or two. She clenched around herself at the thought, another sob ripping through her at the painful tug in her chest that those she trusted enough to place herself in their hands weren’t here to cradle her gently.

She screwed her eyes shut as she stretched her other arm to slip between her ass cheeks, no hesitation or gentle massaging or warm-up before slamming it home. She could almost hear Shark’s tinkling laugh at her breathless gasp, feel the hand at her throat pulling her back onto her strap, if she allowed herself a suspension of disbelief she could almost rationalize the bite of her serrated suckers as the loving cut of Laurentina’s teeth.

She twisted the arm in her cunt, letting out a gut-punched half sob as she doubled it over itself, a pale imitation of how Skadi felt inside her; not hot enough, not heavy enough, not with the same presence of power and protective love she always always felt from Skadi, no matter how roughly her Orca was treating her.

Desperation welled in her as she peaked and plateaued, that knife-edge of pleasure unattainable on her own, unable to tip herself past her own breaking point no matter how raw she fucked herself.

Then the image of Gladiia swam through her hazy mind, her Captain’s gloved, deft fingers finding her aching, throbbing clit, whispering encouragements in one of her rare moments of tenderness, and as Andreana mirrored with her own hand her Captain’s movements she screamed, and cried, and shattered.

She held herself, collapsed against the door, too-large shirt Skadi had left on some past meeting gripped white-knuckled, and cried for a long time.

Some time later, the Captain of the Abyssal Hunters would receive a message on a communications line that four people in the world had access to. Fifteen minutes later, a Rhodes Island tiltrotor was dispatched to recover three of the deadliest, most efficient fighters in the known world, who had encountered an “unavoidable setback” and needed to be brought back to the landship immediately.

Dr. Kal’tsit scheduled their debrief for several days later, citing “necessary medical leave”.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ! i love her

#arknights #fic #:3 #did u know that female cuttlefish can indicate willing/readiness to mate by turning a color called “precopulatory grey”#and also that their two tentacles (technically the other ones are called arms) have suckers lined with often serrated teeth #food for though #t #anyways hi im mentally ill about this cephalopod #cuddlefish

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wanderingcss · 1 year

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hitting plateau, been the same weight for 4 days now and it’s bothering me. But I know it’s just the brain, the system working out the weight loss and adjusting.

a few years ago, i would have binged days ago. But this time around, I’m just biding my time. I’ll break the plateau at some point.

but after taking some advice, I decided on breaking my liquid fast to have a lunch. Kind of a « booster ». I ended up not counting my calories but I had :

- beans (no fat, no salt)

- 2 slices of ham

- 2 scrambled eggs (no fat, no salt)

- 4 corn crackers (80 cals, that I know)

- 2 small crepes

- 1 kinder cards

- 1 square of chocolate (not on the pic, but well in my stomach)

I tried a balanced and healthy meal, and I added some sweets to ensure I won’t crave those later. I’m back to liquid fasting, hoping I won’t gain weight by tomorrow. And more especially hoping I will break the plateau soon!

#ana trigger #ed rant #th1n$po #tw ana diary #tw ana shit #tw ed diet

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starvedevil · 9 months

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gonna visit my parents this weekend & i’m so worried that i’ll i gain weight again after breaking my plateau i had for 7 days.

tw ed

when i get there, i'll tell them that i had breakfast before i left, i'm not hungry for lunch & in the evening when we go to live music i'll order a salad. the next morning i'll go to my sister's house without breakfast, tell her that i've already had breakfast & go home in the afternoon to have dinner with my boyfriend. i hope my restriction plan will work out & i don’t mess it up.

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harrison-abbott · 1 year

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Moby brought the gun into the school to go and shoot up the classroom because he couldn’t stand being attacked anymore. His Dad’s handgun. It was nestling there in his bag right now whilst the teacher was talking about mathematics. Drawing these algebra marks on the smartboard at this horrifically slow pace and Moby wondered why they’d changed from blackboards and chalk – which were far faster anyway. Nor did he fathom why algebra sums were necessary for his future after he left school. Everybody in the class was silent. A miserable day in March, had been raining and sleeting for nine days and it still was outside the window: the long grey shot of the plateau in this myriad needlework of water, pounding the cement. The teacher finished the example on the smartboard. And gave the cue for the students to do the equations, and Mony worked in his jotter and did the … the, thing. Lines and numbers. Digits. Father’s handgun is in my bag right now and I already know he will see that I took it from his study and he’ll go apeshit. Will totally rip me up about it. Nobody was laughing in the room. So Moby was a bit stuck and he wondered whether he should wait until lunch break to unleash the carnage. Or just leave altogether. The sums were tricky to concentrate on and the temples boomed on his head. Moby imagined his mother and father – that they were in the room with him – and he remembered Dad showing him the gun in the pine forest twenty miles out of the city. His pop had taken him down there in the big car on a camping trip and had wanted to show his boy the gun: and he aimed at one of the pine trunks and blasted a whole chamber of chunks out of the timber and then at the end, after he’d emptied, he said, “That tree won’t survive that damage.” And he grinned Moby. Moby did not know how to respond to that sentence and so he never did.

#writeblr #prose #stories

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rainyfestivalsweets · 2 years

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9/25/22

Weeeeeeelllll, I am still alive. Still employed. Still trying to finish Gotham before it leaves Netflix.

I am still plateaued.

I have had mostly good days. Had a rest day yesterday and lots of fun food.

Still trying to reign in my spending, my finances, college plans. College financing. Trying to balance social needs and staying at home needs.... apparently it is a horse apiece.

I need to break this plateau.

I am still struggling with diet adherence. I want all the sweets. I want all the foods. Yesterday I ate a hamburger, cheetos, mixed nuts....then at least 4 reece's choc cookies, mixed nuts, halotop.

Today for lunch I had a chicken burger, a huge bowl that included miracle noodle, snow peas, spinach, celery, and a power mix. Ate it all, then ate lucky charms and artic zero. And a bowl of lucky charms.

I made a soup for later.

I went on the longest kayaking trek I have ever done. About a week ago.

Gonna try to get some miles in on the bike tonight.

Some meals. I have definitely been craving desserts. Ugg.

#healthy lifestyle #getting healthy #losing weight #healthy eating #fitblr #healthy habits #operation lose this gut #weight loss #operationlosethisgut #weight loss journey #the struggle #diet #dieting #weight loss plateau

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starvedlady0219 · 1 year

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04/01/23

So I've decided to just eat normal today (healthy, of course!). It's been 2 weeks and I've not lost any weight even after fasting for 20 hrs everyday 🙃 and having ONE day of normal eating (binge). Hopefully this breaks my plateau!

Update 1: First meal was lunch and it went sort of ok, I couldn't eat much.

My bf and I ordered from this breakfast place for the first time. It had really good reviews, and everything in the menu is made from local farms, so everything is organic. I ordered an English muffin with 2 pouch eggs, Canadian bacon topped with hollandise sauce and a side of crispy hashbrowns. Also, the best chai tea I've ever had!

I couldn't eat much before staring to feel full and super disgusted. I literally gagged when trying to take my last bite. I basically just had one egg, half an English muffin, and 2 bites of the hashbrowns before feeling disgusted and wanting to throw up. I didn't eat the canadian bacon cause biting into meat grosses me out. I fed the other egg to the dog, and my boyfriend finished the rest.

Even when I try to re-feed, my body literally rejects food! And my stomach has definitely shrunk at this point. I get so full with so little food.

This is a picture of what I had. I should've taken an after pic, but I forgot. I'm trying to take before and after pics of every meal.

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dea-certe · 1 year

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You know, every time I prove that Calories In, Calories Out weight loss is bullshit, I'm always amazed at how people in my life are shocked. I'm also surprised by how many people call bullshit on it and tell me I'm lying.

So, my job had this yearly thing they do where they give out points (which can then be used for things like e gift cards or various things like jewelry, furniture, kitchen ware, electronics, basically anything you can think of) if you sign up in this app which you input your food, water, exercise, and weight. Keeping those metrics within a certain threshold (like enough water, enough daily steps) gets you more points. I (like most people) like the rewards because they can be used for real world dollars (you can get prepaid Mastercards with like 10, 20, 50 loaded on it). So I usually always participate.

And since I started on anti depressants, my weight has slowly increased until plateaued at 160-165. In the last 6 months, I haven't gone below 160 once. Until today. And the only change I made was to add an extra 400-600 calories a day. Basically, I started eating snacks in between meals. We get 2 15 min breaks during the day in addition to our lunch breaks and I used to use those to sit back and scroll online, but in the last week, I've started eating snacks while I do that. Granted, they are "healthy" snacks, but I've always loved veggies and so adding some peas and carrots and tomatoes and salads to my daily eating isn't really a huge sacrifice. I actually love those.

And it's only been a week, but I just weighed myself to add to my weekly updates and found that I only weighed 150. Now, I am on the low weight side of my monthly cycle, but I usually only go down to 160-162. So I've obviously lost weight by adding more calories.

Now, here's where things get shitty. The app we use shares our updates with everyone else. And I have gotten a few nasty comments about how I must be lying about what I eat because there is no way I increased calories and lost weight. And like, science does not agree but these people are so entrenched in their world view of CICO that they can't possibly accept anything else. And like, a look at their pages shows their BMI scores are similar to mine (I'm only 5 feet tall, so my BMI score says I'm horribly overweight, but I've never cared about that because BMI is so obviously bullshit, but of course the app we use uses it as part of the measure of our health) and they're eating like 800-1200 calories a day mostly. And I'm eating 2000-2500. And apparently doing that while losing weight is just such an affront to these people, that they have to assume I'm lying.

And of course I just ignored them and moved on because one should never feed the trolls, but it just struck me as like so on brand with our ulture around health and weight that these people felt no qualms about calling me a lying bitch because what my updates show threatens their entire sense of self. I've seen it before when I've mentioned that in order to lose weight (as so many of my coworkers talk about because our job is mostly sedentary and a majority of the people I work with are "overweight" women and until a year ago when I started anti depressants, I was barely able to break 110 on a scale so they assumed I must be the pinnacle of health despite the fact that pictures of me from then scare me because I looked like I was majorly ill because I was so skinny) you have to eat more often to get your metabolism to wake the fuck up and stop assuming you're starving from lack of resources and so it needs to hang on to every inch of fat and energy it can get.

And that is just so much the opposite if every diet industry advice that people get mad when that advice works.

Anyway, sometimes I butt up against the diet industries brainwashed victims and I am struck by the weirdness of it all.

#diet #cico #weight loss talk #tw weight loss #i know some people can super triggered by this kind of talk so hopefully the tags can keep it from you all #ask me to tag something else on it if you nesd to

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timdrakesstaff · 1 year

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1/13/2023 "Duck Oasis" 💤

I'm riding on my board under a cold underpass and decide to take a break from being pelted by rain by entering an opening to a storm drain. It's a weird one; the path inside inclines at an impractical degree for the storm drain's runnoff to the underpass, even though it would theoretically continue through a grate to the stream neighboring the underpass' path.

I practically crawl up the inclined entrance due to the low ceiling. I consider using my board but I'm pretty sure that it would hinder me more then help.

After after a few short plateau stops and turns along the way, I come to a gentle oasis hidden beneath the ground. The lack of light source amazes me. How can I even see all this, let alone anything grow? There is a small pond with smaller diversions of river siphoned from it and trees and grass and bushes and life.

It's beautiful.

I stand in full awe for a moment, taking it all in. How could this have grown here? The earth is soft and moist; the air, humid. The whole oaisis couldn't have been bigger than a classroom at my school, comparatively.

I find some rocks to skip across the pond and attempt to line up with the inflowing river so the skipping can progress further into yet another tunnel. It is while I'm skipping that my attention is drawn towards a duck. A duck and way too many ducklings for them to all be hers. I slowly approach the duck and offer chunks of what would've been my lunch. I don't miss the apple too much.

I sit under a tree for a while, looking at the mostly ivy and moss covered wall and what barren ceiling I can even see the through the canopy above.

Soon enough, I drift back awake to discover the mama and horde of dunklings resting beside me. The only thing missing being a gentle breeze.

I take my time to stand up and stretch and breathe life back into myself before making my way to the enterance and storm runnoff. I sit on my board and attempt to slowly roll myself out, but the sharp inclines have other plans. I find my way out a few minutes later and it is still raining and I am still wet. The dull grey of the sky is darker now, an indicator that I really need to get going.

I come back regularly over the next few months, to help mama watch over the ducklings, I always bring enough snacks for them and myself. I even spend my birthday here, two of them. One of them I invite my school friends, and the other day with different ones.

It's not that I don't want them all to meet someday, they just... Have different interests and one my school friends would totally want to... Connect Dots between those interests. It's easier this way.

My school friends name some of the ducks but lose track of which ones they have and have not named. I tell them I'll name the rest on my own.

I don't.

Instead, when my other friends visit, I point out the ones that haven't been named yet. At least all of my friends across the board are equally excited to name ducks with me.

I get two days full of several cakes since neither group knew who was going to bake it, so everyone made their own. Five cakes to go through. Five! Some... Were better than others.

My birthday passes and I still visit, but there's usually less and less in the duck family when I come by. They rotate out their days, I think, because I still see them all in the oasis on their own time.

I have lots of pictures taken from in here, developed at school and home—whichever was more available. Schoolmates ask where the hell I went to get these pictures, seeing as our city isn't exactly a nature preserve—although, some want it to be... I don't tell.

I experiment with one of my favorite techniques: Double exposure. I have pictures from the city layered with this oasis. In one of the devloped pieces, there's a girl from the city poking a can with her closed umbrella. It's raining but she doesn't care, she's soaked anyways from a car that speeds into a background that bleeds neon signs into oasis foliage. If I had known exactly which pictures would get the exposure, I would have shifted the nature scene shot a couple feet to the right, so the girl would have appeared to be on an exposed paver.

Another photo features a long trail of ducks bobbing down a slow flowing river-turned-asphalt. And another, I posed and kept track of, features a double layered shot of me with both of my friend groups, as if we were all together. It's my favorite one. I have copies of the individual shots too, of course, I shared them with my friends. I debated and sticking the group shot to the wall, but knew when they all visited—they visit individually sometimes, and with me—they would see it plastered on the wall.

Autumn comes and I seek refuge from inpending exams and cold here. It's always a pleasant temperature somehow, I had been worried about the season changes, but it doesn't seem to change in here. The storm drain oasis is its own refuge from the world. But not from time. The plants grown and spread, and the ducks come and go as they please—I am especially sad when they leave for winter. I think I might have expected they'd stay...

I think my favorite time to come is when it rains. It feels like it did that first day, so many months ago.

#original writing #creative writing #short story #writing #timblr #my writing #dream journal #dreampai #I finally caved and decided to post some of my writing #I do have a list of the ducks' names and which friends named what #Dreams #I want another funny pun for my writting tag #writers on tumblr

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wellnessplus · 13 days

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Shedding Pounds and Gaining Control: My Intermittent Fasting Formula (Fat Loss) Experience

For years, I struggled with maintaining a healthy weight. I tried countless diets, from calorie counting to fad cleanses, but nothing seemed sustainable or effective. Then, I stumbled upon the "Intermittent Fasting Formula (Fat Loss)" digital ebook, and it completely changed my approach to weight loss.

Finding a Flexible Plan:

Unlike restrictive diets that dictate every bite, the Intermittent Fasting Formula offered a framework. It explained the different methods of intermittent fasting (IF), such as the 16/8 method and the 5:2 approach. This allowed me to choose a plan that fit my lifestyle. I opted for the 16/8 method, where I fasted for 16 hours and had an 8-hour eating window. This flexibility was key - I could skip breakfast and enjoy a longer lunch break, or have a later dinner and focus on healthy snacks during the day.

Easy-to-Follow Guidance:

The ebook wasn't just about restricting calories; it provided a well-rounded approach to healthy eating during your eating window. It offered guidance on choosing nutrient-dense foods, portion control, and staying hydrated throughout the fast. There were even sample meal plans to get me started, packed with delicious and healthy recipes. The information was clear, concise, and easy to understand, even for someone with limited knowledge of nutrition.

Sustainable Weight Loss:

Within a few weeks of implementing the Intermittent Fasting Formula, I started noticing a difference. The pounds began to come off steadily, but more importantly, I felt energized and in control. The hunger pangs I expected during fasting periods were minimal, and the focus on healthy eating habits during my eating window made me feel more satisfied and nourished. This wasn't just a quick fix; it was a sustainable way to lose weight and improve my overall health.

Bonus Perks:

The Intermittent Fasting Formula went beyond just weight loss. It discussed the potential health benefits of IF, such as improved blood sugar control and reduced inflammation. The ebook also offered tips on overcoming weight loss plateaus and provided a supportive community forum where I could connect with others on the IF journey. This sense of community was invaluable, keeping me motivated and accountable.

Overall, the Intermittent Fasting Formula (Fat Loss) was a game-changer for me. It provided a realistic and effective approach to weight loss, with a focus on healthy habits and long-term sustainability. If you're looking to shed pounds, improve your health, and gain control of your eating patterns, I highly recommend giving this ebook a try. tunesharemore_vert

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#Shedding Pounds and Gaining Control #VitalityBoost #PureWellness #HealthMax #Wellness Plus #NutriFit #RevivePlus #VitalEssence #Opti Health #LifeRenew #VitalityBlend

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aznrhoyx1 · 2 months

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Devil's Thumb via Lake Agnes - Banff National Park

Location: Banff, AB

Date: August 2nd, 2023

Length: 14.53 km

Weather Conditions during hike: 14C - 26C, Mainly Sunny

This was not the first time I hiked this trail, but the first time where I've successfully summitted the Devil's Thumb. My first attempt took place last year late June.

Woken up to a gorgeous sunrise on our last day in the Town of Banff, and appreciated the beautiful landscape one last time before heading out to Lake Louise and Moraine Lake, our next stop of the trip. Before beginning our hike we decided to check out Moraine Lake first.

As we got off our bus at the parking lot, we were already admiring the scene around us, eagerly walking towards the main attraction; and as always, Moraine Lake never failed to disappoint. Surrounded by the vast expanse of nature, the mountains appeared so quiet from the distance as we admired from afar. The reflections of Moraine Lake gave off a feeling of peace and clarity, even more so during the wee hours of the morning. Despite arriving close to 9 am, we already found ourselves among a multitude of tourists, nonchalant about their way as they walked on the designated paths to the lookout point. Nonetheless, our experience was as pleasing as we hoped.

After completing our mini tour of Moraine Lake, it was time to hop into the shuttle bus to our next destination: Lake Louise.

Lake Louise, much like Moraine Lake, did not fail to disappoint. With its turquoise water blanketing the lake and its surrounding peaks, making it a beautiful sight to behold. We began our ascent to Lake Agnes through the trailhead on the east of Lake Louise, traversing switchbacks, and enjoying the views as we gained elevation. This section of the trail was packed as we also shared it with horseback riders. You could see paths of horse poop as we walked along the trail. The ground itself was mainly flat with some exposed rock and root, so we had no issues navigating the trail. We stopped by Mirror Lake and took a small break. From here we could see the Big Beehive peak reflecting on the surface of the lake.

We continued our ascent through the trail on our right of Mirror Lake, and the further we were up, the closer we could see the Big Beehive from our point of view, signalling our approach to Agnes Lake. After a moderately challenging hike, we finally arrived at our main stopover destination. We rested a bit longer here, took some photos and continued our hike to the Big Beehive.

From here onwards the hike became a bit sketchier. The trail began narrowing, and we were more careful with our footing to ensure we didn't become a sprained ankle casualty. As we circled Lake Agnes, we approached a series of narrow and steep switchbacks, which would lead us directly to the plateau where the Big Beehive is. It was a slumber, but manageable walk. We went slow but steady, with each step gasping for more air. Once we reached the end, we took a deep breath. From here onwards, getting to the Beehive viewpoint was straightforward.

We sat by the edge with a nice view of the Fairmont hotel and the lake. Such an epic view for a lunch - I had a peanut butter & jam sandwich; a classic. And a bottle of protein shake to wash it down, delicious.

After taking our much needed rest, it was time to tackle the hike's biggest challenge - the Devil's Thumb. On my last trip, the trail leading to the peak from the Big Beehive was still pretty much covered in snow, so I had no choice but to skip this section and continue with the hike without completing the ascent. I was determined to make it this time, and during this time of the year the snow has cleared, revealing the path to the peak.

After backtracking from our rest area, we were back at the junction where we came from Lake Agnes. We continued our route to proceed with the Devil's Thumb peak until we reached a wall with ridges. We climbed up this section until we found our footing on the path to our left. This path circles the bottom of the peak leading us to its rear side. It is very narrow, and much of the time it was exposed on our left side, where we could see the at the bottom there was the river that fed the glacier water into Lake Louise. We were extra careful and went slow and steady. I couldn't deny the views were amazing all the way.

Once we reached the rear side of the peak, we had to scramble up. It was difficult, but doable. A couple ahead of us decided it was too much for them so they turned around and headed back. There were also plenty of other folks who made their way up so making sure we all agreed to this was key in order to proceed with this section. It was a strenuous ascent, gasping for air with every inch we were up, and holding on to whatever exposed root or rock we could for support along the way. After finishing this section, we were almost there. We would have to worry about coming down later, but for now we just wanted to get to the top. The path here was pretty straightforward until we reached a rocky section to climb to the peak. This climb was fairly easy compared to the ones we did before.

Our view from Devil's Thumb. Note Lake Agnes to the left, and Lake Louise to the right. Big Beehive can be seen between the two lakes.

Our views here were nothing short of eye-popping and jaw-dropping. I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulder, having finally being able to conquer this peak. I savoured every second of this moment, ignoring the winds blowing past us. We took several photos and videos of the view, had our snacks with hydration drinks, and finally made our way back. Having walked past this route on our way in, we felt more confident heading back to the Big Beehive/Lake Agnes junction, where we then took the trail leading us to Lake Louise.

We rewarded ourselves with ice cream from a stand in the Fairmont Royal, and a fun canoe ride on Lake Louise. We were tired in the end, but nonetheless had an amazing hike.

The entire hike was completely doable, provided you're in decent shape and have good cardio exposure, and I would also recommend doing the Devil's Thumb section if you're up for the challenge, keeping in mind that it's relatively trickier than the rest of the hike. Otherwise you'll still have a great time even if you do decide not to tackle this peak. The Big Beehive still provides satisfying views nonetheless.

Happy Hiking!

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thomasmoreton · 4 months

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Like Father, Like Son

If there was one place where I really knew my father, it was in the remote wilderness of Tasmania’s Central Highlands. It was not at home, where we’d watch an endless stream of films together; nor was it when he came to my football games, where he’d coach me from the sideline, much to our mutual frustration. It was only when the roar of the suburbs was replaced with the breeze whipping across the Plateau that I understood who he truly was. We would wake just before sunrise, stuff gear into our packs, bag up our lunches, and I would fill our water bottles. He’d make his breakfast: tomatoes and cheese on toast, as I dumped a serve of muesli and yoghurt into my bowl. Dad would take a bite of his toast, seeming to attempt to use x-ray vision on the packs sat at the door, before asking me if I had remembered spare socks and if my raincoat was easily accessible. Expecting this query, would I spoon some muesli, confirm that I had indeed packed them and yes it was, and chowed down on my cereal. He’d nod to himself, sip his coffee, and take another bite of his toast.

We’d drive for hours to reach some of Tasmania’s most remote places to take in the untouched beauty. The drive was glaringly silent though, save for some 80s music and the road noise, conversation never quite felt natural with dad. The kilometres of asphalt would be eaten up by our ute before eventually giving way to forestry roads and gravel tracks: the ascent to the plateau—into wilderness—had begun. We’d arrive, lace up our boots, pull on our packs, set off along the trail, stop for a breather, eat a muesli bar, scale a peak or two, take some photos and head back the way we’d came. On the surface, the walk served a purpose: we wanted to discover some of the beauty we knew to be hidden in the wilderness. We would always be rewarded with a pleasant view or spectacular mountain to climb, and we would leave these natural settings feeling accomplished, refreshed, and grateful for these spaces. Further, on these walks, it was as though the transition into the wilderness was a transition into a different world; my father would open up to me. He would tell me of the places he’d seen, the memories he held closest, the passions he could rarely indulge. He even told me of his worst days—when anger or grief overcame him—I learned about the events which made my father the unwaveringly particular that man he was.

As we sat for a rest, Dad would identify plants which had unique features to help them survive, or comment on the particular geology of the area and how 300 million years ago glaciers deposited the stones we sat on. His voice would trail off though, he lost himself in thought quite often, the knowledge came to him almost subconsciously, so I knew there was more thinking happening beneath. I would prod him to continue, snapping him from his introspection and he would oblige. We’d often traverse peatlands—large masses of decaying organic matter—the product of a millennia of life cycles; grasses, shrubs, insects, and marsupials now feeding the smattering of cushion plants scattered across the Western half of the state. My father would stop every so often to carefully walk a couple of metres off the track and crouch, being careful not to step on the delicate flora. After a few seconds, he might call out to me and silently direct my gaze to a small burrow to the side of some buttongrass with a tilt of his head. He’d quiz me on which marsupial I thought lived there to see if I had been paying attention to his lessons. I’d crouch with him, pausing to inspect the tracks leading to the entrance before answering. Sometimes I’d see him nod, smile, and then re-join the walking trail. In these small moments—a lesson, a drink break, or lunch atop a peak—I learned of my father’s early life in England, his moving to Kenya, then finally emigrating to Tasmania, and the life he had before my brother and I showed up. These events shaped him as a boy and defined what kind of father he would be. In nature, I found a space to know my Dad, a quiet space where who he was spoke loudest.

And I would listen, more interested in what was behind his words than the plant or rock formation they described. Collecting these memories and sorting through them now, I realise he was not simply showing me a feature of the wilderness: he was trying to share with me his passion—his own way of showing his love for me. As I write this, I can hear my own son stuffing his gear awkwardly into his walking pack, bagging up his lunch, and filling our water bottles. My father had shown me to provide for myself, if only for a day or two on a hike, not simply with packing material goods, but by engaging my capacity for understanding the value of a quiet space. A quiet space to engage with oneself and each other, to learn, to discover that the people around me are more than their awkward stubbornness, more than their domestic persona. When he showed me the plateaus and peatlands, my father understood his way to be honest with me—by stripping away the rest of society and its pleasantries and showing his incessant love for the world which lives around us. He shared his love in his way, out in the windswept wilds of Tasmania.

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bike42 · 8 months

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Wednesday September 20, 2023

Early start to the day - breakfast at 7, in the vans by 8am. We took too vans and a taxi for the twenty minute ride. Since I’m the one that usually manages logistics, my brain can’t help but want to know how Jules gets the vans to our pick up point - I figure the taxi driver must shuttle him back for the second load.

It was a beautiful drive up a hairpin turn road. Lots of sheep grazing and some cattle, and we saw the peat fields that Skye is famous for. “The Quiraing” is a popular hike on Skye, so we got an early start as they say the car park will fill up. It’s on the tip of the island in an area known as “Trotternish.” The ridge was formed by a massive landslide, which created high cliffs, hidden plateaus and pinnacles of rock.

It was breezy, and the clouds moved around - revealing glimpses of blue sky and rays of sun that would highlight the spectacular landscape. I hiked the first part towards the back of the pack as I was so busy snapping photos. We got to a waterfall/stream crossing that even had our guides a little anxious I could tell. The water was really raging, and you had to step into the waterfall to get the best footing - wet feet happened earlier today!

Keith stopped periodically to tell us about how earlier settlers lived on the mountains in the summer, with the women making cheese and butter from sheep’s milk and burying it in the bogs to preserve it (bog butter apparently is still a thing). He said they had no musical instruments but they were known for making musical tones with their mouths and creating tunes that way, but he declined to give us an example.

We had an early whisky break, and watched a photographer and a guy in a sheep costume but couldn’t quite figure out what that was about! Keith said this area is frequently used in adverts in Scotland. He’s known car companies to helicopter a car up here for a photo shoot!

We came to a point where we could head down, or do an out and back to the top. Nearly all of us went to the top. It was muddy - probably more so because it’s so much more heavily traveled than the other trails we’ve been on. There was also some technical scramble towards the top - nothing we haven’t done before, but the mud made it slippery and yucky. Very good hand washing will be necessary before eating anything!

From the top, we looked down on the village of Staffin, all neat looking small white houses with neat yards. Across the water, we could see the hills of Torridon where we’d been yesterday!

Normally, it’s an out and back trail, but we connected to the Loch Langaig trail which brought us down to the Atlantic coast. They’d made arrangements for us to have lunch at Flodgarry, Hotel in the Skye - a wonderfully comfortable place to get out of the weather, enjoy a Belhaven stout beer (not quite as yummy as Guinness) and have salad, soup and a brownie with ice cream for lunch.

We had a quiet van ride back, most napped but I enjoyed the scenery. Lots of tourists out driving the island and stopping at view points. Most view points had a coffee truck or shack, and others had crafts like knit goods and pottery for sale - my kind of stop, but we cruised on by.

We arrived back at the hotel at 2 pm. We were scheduled to do a boat ride, followed by walk with local tour guide Sarah. But remnants of a hurricane are about to hit western Scotland, and the boat ride was cancelled due to expected high winds. We lounged in our room, then went out to meet Sarah at 4pm - very small group: Helen, Kelli & Nelson and us.

Sarah was very interesting! We could have talked with her all night. She came to Skye 17 years ago as a Conservation Ranger - working with birds, especially reestablishing Sea Eagles. Over the years she married, had kids and now does a variety of things, including “crofting.” She was also an amazing historian and seemed to be able to recall all dates, and names of all things in Scottish history since the beginning of time!

We walked down to the harbor, where of course, it started to rain again. Sarah told us the orange boats we see moored are “life boats,” which I think are similar to our “Coast Guard.” They mostly do runs out to neighboring islands to transport people needing medical care to Skye where there is a small hospital. We asked about fishing, and learned that there is some mussel and prawn fishing, but what is caught is transported to the eastern side of Scotland. Historically industries included kelp farming and herring, but those were “boom and bust.”

Sarah and her family are now “crofters” - small scale tenant farming, some crops for their own consumption and sheep and cows. During the Clearance, landlords forcibly evicted many on the tenants to create larger estates. Improvements came after the Small Landowners Acts (1886-1911). In the area, the Crofts were primarily re-established after WWI, with the government owning the land and leasing it to crofters. Typically, it’s a small strip of land, with a gathering of houses called a township and a larger common grazing area. Sarah told us they pay the government about £250 per year, and do many other jobs to supplement their income. The system works because industry and tourism need workers, and it forces “farmers” to work other jobs besides crofting. Like we learned in Ireland, there is no value in the sheep’s wool, yet they have to be shorn. They pay £1.25 for each sheep to be shorn, but only receive about 10 pence for the wool! The value is in the lambs, for which they receive about £200 per lamb. They sell them when they’re small, and another provider handles keeping them until they’re just right for butchering. Eating lamb always makes me feel bad, but I do like it so!

Other things we learned:

There are 10,000 people on Skye

The island is mostly seasonal (most tourist attractions close down in October)

There are two primary clans / landowners: MacLeod and MacDonald. The MacDonalds weren’t the best business people and the government ended up owning most of their land, which has been converted to crofts.

Skye and the western part of Scotland was ruled by Norway until 1200’s and was completely separate from the rest of Scotland. People Traveled between islands in boats known as Birlinns. It was a peaceful time where arts and culture developed as they weren’t having to defend their land or fight with each other. Then the “Lord of the Isles” that conspired with King of England to bring the rest of Scotland into the UK. In 1540 - James V - sailed here to Portree - which means Harbor of The King. Skye = cloud island in Norse

Became popular with tourists during the Victorian era - taken with the rustic landscape, featured in paintings, poems, and books.

We walked through town to the Gathering Hall - built in 1800s for Landowner Classes to gather. Only used twice a year as they travelled and visited all around the Highlands. Sarah told us of all night parties by the upper class even in her time here. She recalls going to work in the morning and watching the still drunk party goers jump into the sea in their kilts and ball gowns! Now the hall is used for lots of different activities.

We walked up to a park where their Highland Games are staged. She had lots more to say, but the wind was now brutal (glad we skipped the boat!) and the rain was pelting us! We did learn that the Highland Games were traditionally to show who was strongest, and the winners typically became the leaders of the region. Eventually, it changed to have rulers pass on their kingdoms to their offspring - I like the having to win it option better! At that point, Kelli got bopped on the head by a flying chestnut, so we declared the walk to be over and scurried back towards the hotel.

Jeff and I followed Kelli and Nelson into a crowded pub, but we were soaked for the second time that day and getting cold. It didn’t feel great to get dry and cozy only to have to go back out in it to get to the hotel! We were blown back to the hotel with gusts that nearly knocked us off our feet! We arranged room service with the front desk, and went up to our room for hot showers and dry clothes. We had a bottle of wine, soup and bread and cheesecake. Perfect. We watching a program with a tour of Cornwall (not expecting sunny skies like we saw on the TV but here’s hoping). We played a couple of games of cribbage and enjoyed being snuggly in our room with the storm lashing at our windows!

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