#this is my ideal physical transition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

critter-coded · 3 months

Text

Reclaiming "Female" Through Therianthropy

This is my submission for the "My Gender is Not Human" zine. Here, I discuss how I realized I was not transgender because of my therianthropy and I hope that maybe someone else may relate and understand themselves in a new way. ♡

If you want to wait to read this until the Zine is released, then do not continue past the "keep reading" portion. Otherwise, enjoy!

PS: If this interests you, I'd strongly advise playing Shelter 2 (where I got the photo below from) as it relates a lot to my own experience.

CW: Body issues, misogyny

Can you imagine the scent of the velvet fuzz of a newborn animal? The experience of a dark den now filled with new life, life that hasn't even opened its eyes yet to the winter world just outside? Can you imagine the tiredness yet sheer love and comfort of having your children welcomed into the world, witnessed only by you and the Earth’s soil?

It's something I often dream of, and it's that very experience that made me realize that I am not transgender. It's funny because in this community, it feels as though the majority of individuals here are transgender and that experience ties closely into their nonhumanity. For me, the opposite occurred. I had a top surgery letter in my hand after years of feeling “not quite right” in my body or in how people perceived me. I had every reason to feel this way and to want this, even if it felt imperfect. Looking back, I remember how I got to this point.

“Be skinnier any way you can, it’ll make you prettier” they’d say as they, themselves, were ironically obese and I loved them no less for it.

“Grow your hair long and change your clothes, you’ll look more like a lady.” A projection rooted in the ideals of someone who reads far too much Jane Austen.

“Women should be subservient and provide endlessly, or they’re selfish.”

Dread set in every time I filled someone’s coffee or plate of food due to expectation or demand and not out of love and kindness. Everytime the topic of how I looked in a dress or how my hair wasn’t as long as someone else wanted. The disappointment of my family when they learned I had dated other women in the past and their relief when I dated one man. The eyerolls and my teacher’s discouragement when I expressed an interest in physics or chemistry. Even my finance degree was achieved through apparent luck despite graduating top of my class. Every “right” I accomplished was met with a “wrong” in some new category. The very things that made men impressive made me disobedient. I starved myself to look a little nicer to strangers, cried in bed after being talked down to at work, slept away all of my sorrows in a curled up ball. Humanity didn’t take kindly to me.

It frustrated me, and combined with my general lack of identity at the time along with diagnosed CPTSD, it was easy to relate to the plight that transgender individuals experienced. Surely that had to be me, but the label and being perceived as something besides female never clicked entirely. I figured that I may just have mild gender dysphoria instead, but for the first time, I really deep dived into what it meant to identify as a gender as everyone was needing urgent, permanent decisions to be made on my end. Around this time, I took on my first mammal label which was a feline. Ironically, cats are often the first animals to be associated with femininity and to be mistreated because of it.

I wanted motherhood, but I wanted my own kittens to rear more than I felt like I wanted to raise a human infant after spending time in a daycare and at a cat shelter. I didn’t want my breasts, but not because I wasn’t a girl, that’s just how other animals are. Perfume was a method to mark the rooms I had been in, not for elegance. I still felt so female, yet I didn’t see another way out besides transitioning until it occurred to me: what if I didn’t have to be a “woman”, and instead, I could simply be female the way animals are female?

There were so many women like me such as in Brave, Princess Mononoke, Poor Things, or Wolf Children. The women who strayed from polite society to walk their own paths and stuck to their own desires. Even my own cat was female and yet held her chin so high and demanded when she would or would not be held. This realization was the first time I found myself feeling feral freedom and uninhibited beauty in the way I was. I was going to be the woman that rolls in the dirt, who is unapologetically beautiful in her own way, who chases after whatever her wild heart desires. I am not transgender, but I am not entirely a woman. I am an animal, and I am female in all of its unbridled ways.

Shedding my domestic cat label, I have taken up the title of bobcat. With it, I swear on my name that I will bite the hand of any who wish to tame or domesticate me ever again. I have been released out of the crate and back into the wilderness where I belong, and I shall never look back down the mountain. I feel the moss beneath my paws, the cold breeze kissing my nose, the smell of rain soaked woods and wildflowers. Ravens cry as I run on four legs towards the peak, released at last from the grips of mankind. I feel the warmth of a life suddenly worth living, growing along with the hair I now reclaim as my own fur without shame or expectation. I am home at the summit of my own world.

My spirit runs wild, and she is female.

#therian #otherkin #therianthropy #therianthrope #adult therian #feline therian

318 notes · View notes

sh0tanzz · 1 month

Note

Who in riize do u think would like a partner who’s slightly older/younger than them, like a year or two age difference? N then who do you think would prefer someone who’s older and has more life experience? (Basically kinda in a who would want to be taken care of by their partner vs them being the one to take care of their partner type of way)

hmmmmm this may be a bit controversial I fear

RIIZE OLDER VS YOUNGER based on astrology~

reminder this is based off of MY opinions of their birth chart placements + aspects and is not exact fact unless I knew them myself and I am not a professional astrologer 🤍

Older

Seunghan

a lot of people think Seunghan would have a younger s.o but ngl..he'd probably like someone more older or at least a person that has more experience/more mature. I say this because the things he'd want the most I feel like he'd expect or more easily get from someone older. He wants someone that would be independent + confident in their place in the relationship, has experience in life in general (including partying/vices), and ngl he might want more tasteful luxury gifts so lowkey sugarmama/older gf vibes 😭.

Anton

I don't think he cares about age at all bc his chart doesn't indicate physical attributes minus the stereotypical feminine things (bouncy healthy hair, sweet perfumes, pretty nails) but I feel like he'd be best suited with someone older yk..like that would be best for him. Reason being, personality wise he wants someone mature, ambitious, independent, doesn't need to be babied/taken care of 24/7, can guide him, financial stable which is something you expect from a more mature/older person right ?

Middle Ground

alright ikik all my babygirls are wondering wtf Sungchan and Eunseok are doing here instead of the younger category but..walk with me....🤫

Sungchan

50/50 bc I feel like he can get what he wants from either age group. He has a cancer moon + leo venus so he may like reciprocity and for him and his s.o nurture or be attentive with each other OR he's ok with taking care of a younger/immature s.o & would be fine with being taken care of by a older/mature s.o. He likes someone to be educated, lowkey a little wiser and put together BUT he likes to wear the pants and be the lead/doting counterpart of the relationship. I just think he can get what he likes from either group and he probs is into cap risings.

Eunseok

Eunseok..probably just doesn't care LMFAO. As long as you're tall, hot, confident and charming he's all in. IM KIDDING OFC . but he can adapt to either relationship trope. He likes someone with a mature seductiveness thats independent and gives good concrete wise advice..BUT he also likes someone thats goofy and surprises him and has a teasing "hard to get" aura to them. So imo he'd go after either one as long as they were compatible with him.

Younger

(crazy I know)

Sohee

Sohee is typically the one being doted on and seen as the "cute" one and I just think he'd want to explore outside of that trope through his partner (sag venus tings). Plus I'm ngl Sohee's big 6 placements and his sun/uranus + mercury/mars aspects makes me feel like he'd feel kinda slowed down or restricted with an older/overly mature/serious partner. This is about to be contradictory ik but I feel like it’d be easier if said older partner had a more immature “cute” image

Wonbin

Wonbin probably likes...cliche dynamincs ngl..his taurus mars makes him feel more driven to the traditional/stereotypical dynamics yk so he's the masc and provides like the typical "oppa" type shit ykwim. Plus his Pisces Venus probably makes him idealize that type of stereotypical trope more. I also feel like an older partner would make him feel a more serious sense of responsibility and scare the shit out of him 😭😭.

Shotaro

Shotaro has a capricorn venus and I said in one post his ideal type could go either way and transition between being more playful+immature or sophisticated+mature I feel like he currently likes immature/younger partners (see how he dotes on Sohee/Anton the youngest members) but in the future would prefer someone more mature because that's just what I typically see in cap venus men,,they start with one ideal type and the older they get they switch to the other.

241 notes · View notes

theoutcastrogue · 8 months

Text

My thoughts on the best strategies to preserve human knowledge and creation in perpetuity

1) don't put all your eggs in one basket

archives need to be paper and digital, public and private sector, centralised and decentralised, fully legal / by the book and rogue, in vaults and cabinets and servers and torrents

create as many redundancies as you can: make copies, and copies of the copies, and copies of the copies of the copies, ad nauseam; anyone anywhere who can make copies, should

spread the physical hubs (paper stacks or servers) geographically, in as many places as possible; you never know what kind of natural disaster or man-made horror will take out a whole building, city, region, or continent tomorrow

2) entropy is a bitch, think longterm

pick methods that are more likely to last

schedule regular copying: you gotta transfer the stuff to a new medium before the old one falls apart, so have some idea when it's expected to fall apart

3) keep converting to new formats

no format becomes obsolete instantly, there's always a transition period; use transition periods to furiously convert everything

4) indexing and searching is as important as the content itself

self-explanatory

5) eyes on the prize: the end goal is public access

if a random nobody, with no status and no money, can't access it easily, freely, and anonymously, the job is only half-done; you've built the back-end and neglected the front-end; get someone to complete it ASAP, because now it's just sitting pretty and isn't doing anything; or isn't doing enough, in any case

bonus: use. fucking. torrents.

It is truly bonkers that the bittorrent protocol is not being used for archiving. It's an ideal method for digital archiving and it should be standard procedure. If a university has stuff on a hard disk, it can put it on its server, and if it can put it on a server, it can torrent it and seed it 24/7. If the same archive is useful for another university on the other side of the planet, that one can download it and then stay in the swarm, also seeding it. If a library or city council anywhere on earth finds the archive of interest, it can do the same. The more the merrier, every download is a potential redundancy and every seeder is an actual redundancy.

If you got space to store it, you got space to share it. And of course, any private individual can at any time join the swarm. So we get excellent preservation (with multiple redundancies, spread far and wide geographically) AND public access, global and free, which is what preservation is FOR in the first place! It ain't for the heck of it, it ain't only for the eyes of the elite, it's for everyone, that's the purpose, that's the end goal. If that's not your end goal, you're doing it wrong.

#trs #theory #rogue tech #books #information wants to be free

720 notes · View notes

mrsshabana · 1 year

Text

Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Mentions of mental illness, suicide, and sexual abuse of a minor. This fic has many dark themes, please do not read unless you are comfortable!

✦ AN: The long awaited nurse au is finally here! Sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect. Lots of thought and research went into making this fic. There will also be art included in this chapter!

✦ WC: 2,146

This is what you should have expected from a job in the medical field that didn’t require much qualifications. Working at an asylum wasn’t ideal, but they are incredibly desperate for new nurses. As most of them are unable to handle the physical and mental toll that a place like this puts on someone.

It’s your first day at your new job. You were excited until you entered the building. The dreary interior mixed with the groans and screams of unruly patients wasn’t the welcome that you had been hoping for.

You’re young, almost too young to be working at a place like this. The other nurses didn’t take you seriously, and they were going to make the transition for you more difficult than it needed to be. You were being assigned to a patient that is notorious for being difficult to work with. The other nurses use him to weed out the weak. Always shifting the new hires to care for him. They usually leave within the first week, so his care returns to one of the veteran nurses known for having a mind of steel. She’s cold hearted, but that helps you deal with a job like this. The complete opposite of you. A warm young woman, eager to treat and rehabilitate.

Currently you are being led to your new patient. Quickly scanning over his records as you follow the nurse through the halls of the sanatorium.

Rashomon Riverbank Asylum

Patient Record

Name: Shabana, Gyutaro

Identification Data: Sex: Male Age: 23 Height: 6’ 3” Weight: 134

Race: Asian Hair: Black Eye: Blue

Special Handling Code: Code Red; Keep medicated Special Handling Instructions: Keep away from sharp objects

Medical History: Multiple suicide attempts, Complications due to sickle cell anemia, Treated for Congenital Syphilis

Diagnoses: Sickle Cell Anemia Hutchinson’s Teeth Borderline Personality Disorder Antisocial Personality Disorder Depression Insomnia

Current Medical Treatment: Special diet for weight gain Medications given AM & PM

Medications: Wellbutrin - 100 mg twice daily Abilify - 10 mg once daily Carbamazepine - 350 mg twice daily Xanax - 2 mg twice daily Trazodone - 150 mg once daily Voxelotor - 500 mg once daily Adakveo - 5 mg IV infusion once every 4 weeks

Gyutaro Shabana, your very first patient at Rashomon Riverbank Asylum. Looking over his record, this is going to be a difficult one. You’ve learned about a majority of these diagnoses in college, so you have a good idea about the kind of treatment he will require. It’s strange though, he seems to have lost the genetic lottery. And you haven't even seen his face yet, you can only imagine what he may look like.

An asian man with sickle cell anemia is almost unheard of, roughly 0.0022%. And on top of that he was born with Congenital Syphilis. It’s quite frankly amazing that he’s lived past 20.

“Just introduce yourself, then I’ll take you to your other patients,” the other nurse says as she stops in front of his door.

Not wanting to be impolite, you hesitantly knock on his door. There’s no response. You figured that there wouldn’t be, so you open the door anyways.

“Hello, Mr. Shabana?” you say coyly.

When you peek into the room, you are instantly frozen by his icy gaze. He’s sitting on his bed with a book in his lap. His cold blue eyes send shivers down your spine.

“I’m um… I’m your new nurse.” you choke out. He’s feet away from you but you feel as though his hands have a tight grasp around your throat.

“My name is Y/N. Um… If you ever need anything d-don’t hesitate to call for me…”

The expression on his face is unchanging, as he remains silent.

“Well I’ll see you later tonight Mr. Shabana…”

Closing the door, breaking the line of sight that he had on you, instantly you feel a surge of relief.

You go on to visit the rest of your patients, then you come back later that night to give Mr. Shabana his dinner. A high protein meal, specifically for weight gain.

Knocking on the door a few times before you push it open, “Mr. Shabana, I have your dinner.”

He’s in the same spot where you left him, sitting on his bed with a book in his lap. But this time he doesn’t even bother to look at you when you enter the room.

Stepping closer to place the food tray on his table, you inspect his appearance.

His clothes hang off of his frame, enveloping his skeletal body. You can make out lean muscles on his arms, but his face is sunken and his pants hang low on his hips. There are large black marks scattered across his face, and you can barely see one peeking out from below his sleeve. Were these marks from his Congenital Syphilis? Dark circles sit below his eyes, he looks as though he hasn’t slept in weeks.

He’s wearing the standard issue uniform that all patients wear. A plain t-shirt and pants, made of the same material as scrubs. Though his feet are bare, slippers sitting below the edge of the bed. His hair is long and wavy. Black as midnight, unruly in the way it hangs in front of his face. The top of his hair is half haphazardly tied up.

“Got a problem…?” He rasps, drawing out each word.

The venom of his sour tongue sends a jolt of electricity through your skin.

“Huh?” you’ve been sitting there staring at him for too long, “O-oh! I’m sorry sir! There’s no problem, please enjoy your dinner,” you quickly rush out of the room.

As you continue on giving food to the rest of your patients, Mr. Shabana’s voice echoes through your skull.

Got a problem…? Got a problem…? Got a problem…?

A few hours later, you go back to retrieve the tray and whatever food may have not been eaten. Stopping yourself before you open the door. It’s ok. He’s just a patient. Then why does he make you so nervous?

*Knock knock*

“Hello Mr. Shabana, I’m just here to collect your tray,” you chime, masking your fear with a smile.

Walking back into the dimly lit room, the fluorescent lights flickering. His eyes staring into you.

His food has been untouched. The only thing that was eaten was a packaged cookie.

“Not hungry today?” your voice shakes as you try to ignore his harsh gaze.

He remains silent. Watching you as you step closer. The buzzing of the fluorescent bulbs filling the room, filling your brain with static.

“Was it not to your liking? I can have the cooks make something else for you if you’d like.”

“...”

Your eyes meet. His thin eyebrows furrow, the rest of his expression remains unchanging. The pressure of his glare makes the air around you feel heavy. Pressing down on you, compressing your spine, you feel so small when he looks at you. You’re desperate to fill the cold aura with some warmth.

“Mr. Shabana you really should eat-”

*CRASH*

He slaps the tray out of your hand, food splattering onto your uniform, dripping onto the floor.

Silence. You’re stuck staring down at your feet. Watching the pool of meat, vegetables, and milk spread around you. It takes you a few moments to fully process what has just happened, only able to snap out of it when you feel the wetness of the food seeping through your skirt, making you feel cold.

You regret looking up at him. Regret meeting his eyes. Filled with amusement.

“You better clean that up… don’t chu think…?” He smirks. Showing his sharp canines and crooked teeth.

“I-I…” you mumble, looking back down at the mess. He’s right, you should clean it up before it gets everywhere.

Going into the hallway, you grab some towels and return to his room. Not thinking your next actions through as you get down on all fours and start picking up the mess. All you want to do is hurry and clean this up so you can leave. But Mr. Shabana has different plans.

He slowly stands up. Looming over you, looking down on you with a twisted grin. He’s so tall… he makes you feel so small as you look up at him. So pathetic. So worthless.

“You look good down there…” he steps on your hand, “On your knees like a whore…”

His words leave you speechless. Your vision begins to blur and your heart starts to race. He pushes his weight further onto your hand, until you feel a crack.

“I’d like to see you like this more often…” he chuckles, the sound rumbling in his hollow chest.

Every instinct within your body is screaming at you to run. But you feel so trapped. So paralyzed by him. Like a rabbit cornered against a wall by a vicious predator. His eyes. It’s his eyes. No, it's his touch. It’s… everything about him.

You try to speak up, but your words escape you. Coming out in a pathetic whine that makes his grin widen and his laughter intensify.

He’s reaching for you. His hand is coming towards your face. Your mind is telling you that if you let him get any closer you will die. He will kill you. And he won’t even care.

Your body is pumped with enough adrenaline for you to break free from the physical and psychological hold he had on you.

Pulling your hand away from under his foot, you push yourself backwards. Stumbling to stand up on your feet. You run out of the room and through the halls, not risking looking back at him. All you hear as you escape is his laughter on repeat. You can’t tell if his laughter is echoing through the halls, or if it has just been ingrained into your mind.

You keep running until you get back to the nurses quarters and to your room.

Tears running down your cheeks, food staining your clothes, and pain throbbing in your hand. You collapse on the floor and cry.

Why would he be so cruel? You understand that he’s a patient and has a list of mental illnesses, but you were trying to help him! You can’t even remember what you were doing or why you were in his room. All you remember is him and how he made you feel. His stare. His voice. His touch.

Fuck him and fuck this job.

Clambering over to your desk, you immediately start writing your resignation letter.

You don’t get paid enough for this shit. All you wanted to do is help people, and you get repaid with this? It’s just not worth it. Through your sobs, your tears fall onto the page as you hastily move your pen on the piece of parchment in front of you.

There. It’s done. You’re done.

You won’t have to see this place, see him, ever again once you submit this letter.

Looking around your desk, searching for an envelope. You come across a thick manilla folder. The tab on the side reads, Shabana, Gyutaro.

Something compels you to open it. You already skimmed through his information, but you never looked at everything here.

His psychiatric notes? From his psychiatrist? These shouldn’t be in here… you shouldn’t have access to this confidential information.

But if you’re leaving anyways… then there’s no harm. Right?

Shabana, Gyutaro - Dr. Hantengu

August 14

Childhood trauma starting since birth

Single mother, no father

Raised as a female. Mother would dress patient as a daughter. Would cover up his deformities with makeup. (Feelings of worthlessness, not belonging)

Sister born at age 6 (turning point in patient’s life)

Mother cast aside patient for sister. (When he learned he was actually a boy. Feeling of confusion. Child cannot comprehend)

Sexual abuse started at age 10

Mother was a prostitute, would offer children to adult clients.

Patient record, “She would bring men into our house… and let them touch us. (long pause) They wanted my sister. They wanted to do bad things to her. So I… (patient gets upset) I would offer myself to them. I would perform sexual acts for them so they would leave Ume (sister) alone.”

Sexual abuse continued until age 15

Mother died of overdose. The children were left in the home for over a week until someone found them.

Children taken to orphanage.

Patient held in orphanage for 8 months until incident.

Brought to Asylum at age 16

End of first session

You are left speechless.

Reading his records reminds you of why you wanted to be a nurse in the first place. To help people that have gone through trauma such as this. He didn’t lash out at you because of something you did. It’s not your fault. And it isn’t his either. He just needs help.

And you will be the one to help him.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #nurse au #nurse reader #gyutaro fanart #kny fanart #demon slayer fanart #hantengu

723 notes · View notes

nori-the-cat · 16 days

Note

Wonbin's perfect type s/o and Sungchan perfect type s/o - how they imagine their ideal partner/perfect girlfriend for them... like, this person's physically, personality, mentality and etc

It's important to remember that tarot readings are open to interpretation, and these cards provide possibilities, not absolutes. This reading is also based on my interpretation and intuition. This is also for entertainment purposes. Take it with a grain of salt.

Sungchan's Type:

Personality & Mentality:

Cards: queen of cups, eight of pentacles, queen of wands, and seven of wands.

He is drawn to someone who is caring, understanding, and emotionally mature. So, imagine someone who is well-behaved and spoken, feminine, emotionally in tune with herself, and put together.

He is most likely interested in someone with ambition and motivation, someone who matches his own goals for achievement. I say this because he's also ambitious and puts a lot of effort into everything he does. He needs someone who can match this energy of his.

He needs someone confident. Someone confident, ambitious, and has a good sense of who they are might be the type of person Sungchan is drawn to.

Although I do think he would prefer a submissive or obedient type, I think he's more attracted to honest and straightforward women, someone who can keep him on his toes and offer new ideas. Basically, someone he can share his thoughts and opinions with.

Visually & Physically:

Sungchan might like someone with an aura or embody the energy of Ive Jang Wonyoung, Aespa Karina, SNSD Yoona or Seohyun. These people don't imply or suggest they're his type, but a close representation of who he might be attracted to in the K-pop industry.

As I've mentioned above, Sungchan is most likely attracted to tall and slim-looking females. Someone tall, lean and fit. It is likely he looks at a female's body first and then their face. He's probably into legs and the upper body area. Maybe the bust area?

I think he's also into beautiful hands too. The kind of hands that are long and dainty.

Someone with medium to long hair. I think straight or wavy hair is something he would like to have in his partner. The kind of hair that is natural yet looks like a Pantene ad.

Sungchan seems to favour partners who are highly popular and considered celebrities. Ideally, his partner would complement his appearance and social status. Actresses might be more appealing to him than idols, but he could also be interested in idols who have transitioned into acting or those with significant influence, similar to the examples mentioned.

In terms of height, I'm seeing 165cm and above, but not taller than 175cm. He still wants to feel like he's protecting them.

In terms of style, he might like someone who dresses like BlackPink Jennie. Someone who looks put together yet laid back.

Wonbin's Type:

Cards: knight of cups, nine of wands, three of wands and ten of swords.

Personality & Mentality:

Wonbin would like someone who is loving and expresses their emotions openly. Someone who is warm and shows their feelings directly might catch Wonbin's eye.

Wonbin needs a partner who's like, they have their shit together and independent, you know? Someone who doesn't need a man to complete them, but totally supports his dreams and stuff. Basically, the ultimate hype-woman.

He likes smart girls. I think the book smart kind or at least someone who knows something he doesn't. Someone who can, like, out-strategy him or hold their own in a deep convo? He thinks they're hot. But then again, maybe he's more of a vibes kinda guy, you know? Prefers someone independent and keeps a little bit of mystery to them.

He needs someone whom he can trust. Trust here is important to him. But also someone a little adventurous yet familial and traditional. Something like an unexpected early morning drive to a nearby town for breakfast is his kind of jazz.

Visually & Physically:

I would say he's the type to not have a type but he does have a type. (What?) Well, you know how some guys go for different girls and the people around them wonder what is their type, but the type is the "vibe". That is Wonbin.

Physically, he might like short to medium hair. Someone who doesn't really do much to their hair. So someone who he thinks is naturally beautiful.

I can't think of any idols. But if I had to choose it would be Aespa Ninging or Winter, F(x) Krystal, Red Velvet Joy, Kep1er Xiaoting, IU or anyone who has the 'vibe' he's looking for. A little mystery with a touch of unexpected cutesy.

Soft-spoken ladies.

Height-wise, I think he's into short to medium height. Someone whose height is around 155 to 165. I'd say 170cm too. But that would sort of bruise his ego.

Something about the eyes, he likes them more. I think it's because he tends to look at people's eyes when they talk and he seems to gravitate towards the eyes.

He likes them stylish or at least knows how to dress well. They don't have to keep up with the trend. For him, identity seems to be a thing.

Probably someone who is into the arts, but not the painting kind. Someone who is musically artistic is the vibe that I'm getting here.

Additional note: I have no idea why. But I got an energy implying these two were probably hurt in the past. Maybe an unrequited love, they were lied to, or some kind of romantic disappointment? They both want different things in a partner yet still retain certain characteristics or values that they deem as important.

#riize #riize sungchan #riize wonbin #jung sungchan #park wonbin #sungchan riize #wonbin riize #riize tarot #kpop tarot #kpop #riize imagines

85 notes · View notes

fairestar · 7 months

Text

“awakened imagination” by neville goddard · a summary

this post is the first of a forthcoming set in which i summarise and simplify neville goddard’s book “awakened imagination”. you can read the original here, and you can check other summaries here. please note this book is heavily reliant on his religion and, as much as i will try to make it as non-religious and simple as possible, there are still passages and comparisons that i can't take out without hindering neville words’ meaning. take these posts as if i were taking notes for future reference during class.

❁ chapter I : who is your imagination?

“imagination” is the kind of word that has been used for so long it has gathered plenty of different meanings, which often oppose each other: thought, hallucination, suspicion... neville identifies “imagination” with the power that makes achievement of our goals inevitable. there is only one thing in the world: imagination, and all our deformations of it. imagination is the very gateway to reality.

according to blake, man is only a natural organ subject to sense; the eternal body of man is imagination: god itself, the divine body. by imagination we have the power to be anything we desire to be; only as we live by imagination can we truly be said to live at all.

with this book, neville wants you to function imaginatively, to open your “immortal eyes inwards into the worlds of thought”, where you have all of your heart's desires ripe and ready to harvest. imagination is the hidden mystery from the ages, the hope of glory.

“every man is mary and birth to christ must give”.

imagination's birth and growth is the gradual transition from a god of tradition to a god of experience. if the birth of imagination in you seems slow it is because you are unwilling to let go of that comfortable, but false, grasp to tradition.

man is the garden in which christ —imagination— sleeps. man is awakened by his imagination getting lifted up to heaven and being made god-like. in the moment of awakening, he meets the test of sonship, of his imagination being christ: the forgiveness of sin (“sin” meaning failing to achieve one's aim in life, falling short of one's ideal; “forgiveness” meaning identification of man with his aim/ideal in life). this tests man's ability to inhabit the nature of his opposite (go from the state of the undesirable self to the state of the desirable self), to perform the work of an awakened imagination.

is imagination power sufficient to, not only enable us to assume, but to execute the idea too?

suppose i desire to be in some other place, but i lack the social and financial resources to do so; could i, just by imagining myself in such place, cause the physical realization? would only my imagination be sufficient to incarnate my desire? does imagination understand what is deducted from the senses? does it recognise the outer world?

suppose i am capable of sustaining the feeling of the wish fulfilled, of acting with continuous imagination; will my assumption harden into fact? and if it does, will i find that my actions throughout this period have been reasonable? after assuming that i already am that which i desire, must i constantly guide myself by “reasonable” ideas and actions so as to cause the fulfillment of my assumption?

the answer to all these questions is that an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact; continuous imagination is sufficient for all things, all of our “reasonable” plans and actions won't ever make up for our lack of continuous imagination.

“imagine that you are and you shall be”.

truth depends upon the intensity of imagination, not upon external facts. you become what you imagine. you have a self-determined history. imagination is the truth, the life revealed.

but the thing is, we cannot get hold of truth with the logical mind (stop thinking and worrying about the how! logic does not come into play here, let it go, you don't need it), it cannot be enclosed by facts: as we awaken to the imaginative life, we discover that imagining a thing is to create it, that true judgement doesn't need to conform to the outer world to which it relates (this means, the truth doesn't always look the same as the 3D does at that moment).

the imaginative man does not deny the reality of the sensuous outer world (3D), but knows that the inner world of continuous imagination (4D) is the force by which the outer world comes to pass. he sees the 3D and all its situations as projections of the 4D. to him, everything is a manifestation of the mental activity present in his imagination, without the outer, reasonable man being aware of it. he knows that everyone must become aware of their inner activity, and the relationship between the inner and outer worlds.

the moment you discover that your imagination is god-like, you accomplish acts that can only be described as miraculous. but until you realise that everything you come across is part of yourself, you won't accept that you are the one that has chosen the conditions of your life, that they are in affinity to your mental activity. you must firmly believe that reality lies within you, not without; although others have bodies and lives of their own, their reality is rooted in you and ends in you.

it is a marvelous thing to discover that you can imagine yourself into the state of your wish fulfilled and escape the prison of ignorance. embrace this new knowledge and let go of your past beliefs for they're untrue. live in continuous imagination and make your desires come to pass.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.

#💐; evolve #law of assumption #awakened imagination #neville goddard #edward art #manifestation #fairestar

284 notes · View notes

windvexer · 2 months

Text

To prepare a feeding oil for spells, for the purpose of charging spell vessels without direct energy work

In my strain of witchcraft, feeding of any spell (such as amulets or wards) is best done by applying a charmed physical substance, such as oil or incense. To use direct energy work is a stopgap solution not suitable for normal upkeep. To imagine the spell refilled with energy, without active energy work, is never a suitable solution.

Feeding of spells can be made from a chore into a breeze (*1950s commercial transition*) with the use of a small quantity of pre-charmed oil, such as olive oil, or any shelf-stable cooking oil (not E.O.). The most basic of these formulas is only a fat or oil with no other ingredients added.

Charming about an ounce or 30ml of oil will last months or more, even if you use it often.

The preparation is best performed on a Monday or full moon, or from the turning from midnight to the new day. Re-enchant the oil as often as desired, especially if it couldn't be initially enchanted under ideal conditions.

Put the entire quantity of oil you want to use in a clean, sealable container. Take the oil to a place free-flowing with magical power, such as under the full moon, in the presence of your allied gods, or within a cast circle teeming with elemental power.

Enter magical headspace through trance or any technique you prefer.

Using a clean stirring stick, or with a very clean finger, stir the oil clockwise while petitioning the powers in your presence. Call to the full moon, gods, elementals, and so forth, and ask them to bless the oil for the purpose of feeding, so that when spells consume it, the spell is revitalized and made fat with power. Speak plainly or plan a rhyme ahead of time. Work over the oil with constant stirring for several minutes, or until every petition is made, or until you have said everything that needs to be said.

When intuition advises, or when there's nothing left to be done, perform a sealing charm ("so mote it be" or variants) over the oil.

Thank all present powers and, if your tradition recommends it, provide payment as necessary.

If any energy is left raised, ground all of it into the oil.

Seal and set aside. Close the ritual as you normally do.

To feed a spell as you are casting it, or after it has been cast, dab a bit of the oil onto a tissue or Q-tip and wipe it on the spell vessel. Avoid sticking fingers into the jar as bacteria helps oils go rancid.

Re-enchant the oil in the same method as often as you like. To top off the oil, add more oil and re-enchant.

99 notes · View notes

dee-the-red-witch · 17 days

Text

Okay, I need to be serious and put this somewhere for one because I need to let people know wtf is going on in full because it affects a lot of shit, because I need to talk about it, and because I need to figure out what I'm going to do.

The relationship with S, my now separated, still cohabitating and coparenting with former partner has been getting worse and worse. She has barely worked since January has made minimal efforts at best in helping with childcare, has borrowed over seven grand in total from myself and other sources that I know of to lose all of it in an online honeypot scheme, has as yet barely done anything to try and recover those funds and because of all of this, left me in the situation of having to drain everything from my transition gfm just to cover april's rent and some of the bills, and then left me still having to fundraise just this week to cover stuff.

On top of this she's still being inadvertently (I'm assuming) transmisogynistic on a regular basis. And refuses to learn or do any better, unless, you know, I'm actively calling her out in the middle of it, and even then it's a whole other fight, that often turns into other abuses lkke her threatening to just immediately abandon me with the kids.

I don't feel remotely safe here, i am in constant stress, I can't focus well enough to work even when I'm not being constantly interrupted for things, and financially there is no way I can keep doing all this. I'm also physically exhausted from all this plus the workout regime I'm having to pull to get down to surgery weight (though with my recovery fund getting constantly emptied, part of me is in Does It Even Matter mode, while the rest realizes that somehow a gym full of cishet people in lynnwood is somehow SAFER than here.)

I don't know what to do. I don't really have options, and i need out. Affording here on my own would be equally impossible, so forcing S out isn't really a great option. I'd need around 6k a month to cover EVERYTHING fully doing it as a business, and there just isn't enough coming in. I need help and I need options.

And I'm aware that yeah, just. A bigass rant with context missing in parts and no real call for action or anything. Mostly I want folks including customers to know what's going on. Please don't cancel existing orders, I'm still working to try and fill them. Please don't send me resource links for shelters and such. I'm not running yet. Ideally, I need an out, and a place on my own free and clear, but I don't know how to get there from here yet. And I'll update later eith specific asks for help if and when I figure out what those are. I just need folks to udnerstand that things are kinda sucking for me right now and it's going to be rather hard for a while.

66 notes · View notes

wxnheart · 9 months

Note

would you ever do a soap/ghost/reader fic where reader is the touch starved one? like maybe ghost and soap were together first and want to help reader get more comfortable in the relationship after they realize that you keep basically third wheeling yourself?

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐚𝐩 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: I took some liberties with this, anon, so it could coincide with the beginnings of Ghoapbusters. wanna read some more ghoap x reader?

Remember when it was mentioned that the transition to a full-fledged relationship was uneventful? It most definitely was. That doesn't mean it was smooth sailing at the start, though.

Because not only is Simon being Simon, you, despite the apparent attraction, already started doubting your place in this... thing—RELATIONSHIP. Wonderful shit, huh?

And Ghost, for all of his self-doubt, trusts his instinct when it comes to your presence in their lives. Fuck yes, you belong. How else could he keep Johnny grounded? Or something like that. You belong. You three made this choice together. Accept the consequences, baby. You ain't getting rid of them that easily.

Easier said than done, though, because the first time you three went out together—yes, gorgeous, in an official RELATIONSHIP—you pretty much turned yourself into the third wheel. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious about the chemistry between Simon and Johnny, the ease with which they could be themselves around each other.

It's ironic considering Simon absolutely feels like a fish out of water with all this and if it was possible, Johnny's eyes would roll out of his sockets with the number of times he's rolled them in exasperation because you guys (meaning you and Simon) are so busy reassuring the other and not practicing what you preach. It's so ironic he could laugh. And he does, which helps ease the tension for the most part.

You were also much more comfortable doling out physical affection to Johnny than you are to Simon because as much as you want to bury your face in his chest and grab fistfuls of ass as you hug him even though your arms should ideally be around his waist, you wonder if he (and Johnny) would think you weird for doing so, hell, for even thinking it. When you finally did it for the first time, after what seemed like eons of tentative touches between you two, it went... about as much as you expected. He stiffened, those buns tightened in your hands, and you felt the deep rumble of his groan. "'S not my damn waist," he said, and it didn't carry the fire of agitation that you thought it would. Johnny was proud.

And when they do things for you, you know, that people in RELATIONSHIPS do for each other because they care, you either try your best to convince them not to (what the fuck?) or you giggle. Nervously. To the point that it actually gets awkward. Because why would they do this for you?

It finally comes to a head when they have to sit you down. Simon takes the initiative with this one and fuck, you love it when he takes charge. ❤️

You three talk, or, er, well, they had to pry answers out of you because you were a little anxious about the conversation but really, the outcome managed to soothe your fears for the time being. They do, however, make you promise to talk to them when you start to feel this way again. Sure thing, guys.

In the end, you and Johnny wound up piling up on Simon. Simon who's still getting used to all this and doubts be damned, wraps his arms around you both. It's awkward. It's adorable. It's awkwardly adorable, two words that you NEVER thought you'd use to describe him but here you are.

And that's how Ghost became Simon in the Middle.

#request fill.#cutie 𝓠.#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #task force 141 #poly palooza.#just ghostly things.#just 141 things.

390 notes · View notes

bread--quest · 3 months

Text

sometimes when i'm doing a Less Than Ideal Activity, like standing up on public transit wrapping an elbow around a pole and trying not to fall over, or trying to pull my head as far within my coat as it will physically go to protect me from the wind, or trying to motivate myself to go shower and not just fall onto my bed and go to sleep in my work clothes after a particularly long shift, it comforts me to find some solidarity in history. like, think of people in 1940s new york, trying to juggle their purchases and waiting to hear the name of their stop. think of people in victorian london turning up their coat collar and hurrying home. think of all the workers in all the years who've been so relieved to get home and clean up. and it makes it a little easier to get through. and maybe im extra happy to see my front door when i reach it. and maybe i take a moment to be grateful to have indoor plumbing and hot water. and maybe i wave the people sitting down next to me off the bus first when it arrives. and it just helps a little, i think.

#wow look something original!!#i've actually had quite a nice day this thought just came to me on the bus home and i felt compelled to write and share it

56 notes · View notes

drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions IV

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

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

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

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

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

Word count: 3,745

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

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need…my seat to make the jump.”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I reject you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mando…”

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got you baby.”

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

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

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

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

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #din grogu #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #droidwrites

96 notes · View notes