#its a small thing but its one of so many small things in my life

[softness-and-shattering]

I had a guy being obnoxious with "advice" and due to reasons I had to hunour him a little. He asks what I need for the house to be accessible. This one I can answer. I need a kitchen chair, I say.

"So can you buy a kitchen chair?"

And. I just sat there unable to compute the everything that that entails into a quick snippy sentence of a response.

In hindsight, do I technically possess all the skills necessary to buy myself a kitchen chair? Yes.

If it was the only thing I had to do. No feeding myself no changing clothes no showering no brushing my teeth no being conscious and minimally fatigued tomorrow. There are many things I can technically do, if all the stars and circumstance and disability lined up perfectly.

But Ive needed a kitchen chair for like 2 years now and the stars have never aligned in all that time so really the answer is no.

However this guy followed up on similar answerd with "ok, whats stopping you", as if I can give a succint answer for him to solve standing on one foot bc Im a completely lazy person who hasnt ever tried to solve my own problems. As if there *is* an easy succint answer. I mean there is, its "Im disabled" or a slightly more detailed "I have fatigue and chronic pain". Maybe I am a bit stupid because I cant easily conceptualise the barriers which means theyre harder to solve for and honestly Im ok with that. Im not ok with implication that its my personal failing, that Im lazy, that Im avoiding "just doing it", that if I cant explain the problem that defaults to it doesnt exist.

Disability is exhausting. Its draining. I imagine its somewhat comparable to what people call pregnancy brain, when the body is working so hard to support a growing fetus that the parent loses some of their ability to think and plan etc. Its a full body experience. You cant isolate x issue and y diagnosis and separate it all out neatly till all thats left is the functional self, we arent pieces of a wholw that way, we are the whole and we break down the experiences into different categories to better understand and treat. Solving for one condition helps the whole but its not that kind of math.

Hank Green in one of his cancer videos mentioned the new-to-him exhaustion of always being alert to how his body is feeling and then calculating whatz normal, whats abnormal, is it urgently worrying, is it worth talking to the dr asap, or worth keeping an eye or prbably nothing? Then you actually have to keep an eye on the thing. And you repeat this thought pattern multiple times a day, not from an unreasonable anxiety but because when youre very unwell its necessary to notice new clues and any potential deterioration. Youre already so unwell the last thing you need is a new surprise condition that wouldve been easier to deal with if you caught it six months earlier.

It is a more than full time job, and you never ever get to clock out for a second. Theres no holiday or weekend off from having a body. Theres no skiving off the job without serious repercussions of things getting out of control real fast. Theres resting. Theres dissociating and medicating but tbh theres always a consequence. Theres never do whatever you like forget your disability forget your constant mental symptom tracking, stop needing so much.

If someone says they cant do something, just believe them. Offer to help if you can. Dont treat thrm like theyre lazy or stubborn or selfish for knowing and respecting their limits even if they look fine to you. They may be having a great time, and any amount of strain will rob the day from them. A small effort to you is a much larger effort to them. We shouldnt need to display constant pain and misery in order to respect our limits. We shouldnt be required to spend what energy we do have on joyless experiences in the name of fairness. Life isnt fair, we have a worse hand than average, respect our limits and let us find joy where we can. No judgement.

sometimes when chronically ill/disabled/neurodivergent people say “I can’t do this thing” they really mean “I can technically do this thing I guess, but not without pretty significant repercussions” and I really need more fully-abled people to understand the validity of that

[saintslewis]

𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀 | 𝐍𝐇 + 𝐋𝐇

— small snippet.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; nadia hamilton

summary: the hamiltons are taking over the met gala

settings: October 2024 in New York

saint’s team radio 🪩: i’m back! :D this is one of many but i fear I got TOO excited today about the met gala news lmaoo. this’ll be set in the future with a few lil clues that I’ll add. maybe you’ll figure it out? 🤭 edit: met gala is in a fewwww dayssss!

pls like, comment and reblog!

taglist is down below! lmk if you’d like to be added

renaissance masterlist

-

NEW YORK

“Okay, I understand the bob is iconic but are you telling me she’s had it for her whole life?” Nadia kept her manicured hand on her face, trying to find something to fiddle with.

“Yes, she has. You asked me to ask her and it’s been, like, her thing.” Lewis spoke, his eyes darting between his wife and the road. His left hand seated on Nadia’s thigh as the car was cruising through the streets with the driver being just beyond the partition.

Taking a bit of a breath, she continued playing with her nails as the driver swiftly drove. The music was soft and the car was quiet despite the busy background of New York City just outside the tinted windows. The empty plastic cup of matcha sat in the cup holder next to her, the grassy vanilla taste had not calmed her down in the slightest since leaving their penthouse all dolled up.

“I don’t even think I charged my phone all the way, damn it.” Nadia murmured to herself, her leg bouncing ever so slightly and blaming it on the bumpy ride whenever Lewis asked. “Nads, everything will be okay, I promise. I know this is a massive opportunity for the both of us and…stuff. Look, when you’re saying your speech, just stare right at me. Just like we practiced.” He spoke softly, reassuring her with a rub of her knuckles by his thumb.

She sighed and leaned back against the soft leather, looking out into the scenery of the city. Self doubt flooded through her veins as the seconds ticked by and they were reaching closer and closer to the Met museum. The warmth of Lewis’ hand was all she could use to ground herself in the moment as she closed her eyes. He rubbed her knuckles once again, his thumb glazing over the boulder of a ring on her finger.

Nadia took a moment to take a breath, not yet opening her eyes. “I’m meant for this…right? I-I mean, everything in my life leading up to this very moment has been unconventional to say the least.” She started, feeling her stomach sink at her own words forming in her head.

“You know I hate talking about her, Lewis.” Nadia spoke with a gritty tone, moving the hair in front of her eyes but they kept falling into place as that was the intended hairstyle. “Then let’s not talk about her. She’s not co-directing the Met Gala, you are. She doesn’t even know what’s going on in your life and that’s exactly how you wanted it.” Lewis said his words with such clarity that almost every bitter feeling in her body had vanished.

She finally lifted her head, blinking the minuscule amount of tears that were forming away and grounded herself in that very moment, as the car began to slow down in the almost private entrance to the museum. “You’re right.” Nadia nodded to herself, indirectly hyping herself up.

“I’m always right.” Lewis jabbed, getting out his side of the car to lightly jog to his wife’s side, helping her out of the suv as her rene cavolloi’s hit the new york gravel in a quiet step. “ ‘Always’ is pushin’ it. You almost wore teal blue socks today.” Nadia chuckled with a jab of her own.

“C’mon, they weren’t that bad. They were warm.” He defended his case with a slight wheeze to his laughter, making Nadia roll her eyes at him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bud.”

-

Was she overdressed? Perhaps. But nothing said Nadia Hamilton other than overdressing for an occasion. Plus that dress needed to be shown off despite its very neutral colour.

The table she was sitting at was quite literally filled with her bosses and her husband. Even though Nadia never really glorified Anna Wintour in any sense, it was still slightly overwhelming seeing the woman who’s job was destined to be hers one day. Her approach was anything but ordinary but then again, nothing was ever normal in Nadia’s life.

Months in advance before this lovely event, Nadia had visited the Louis Vuitton headquarters in Paris to oversee anything that needed her attention. When taking her much needed lunch break, she had bumped into the equally as small sunglass wearing critic who had invited her to lunch without ever meeting her and offered her the role of Co-Director for the met gala.

Insane.

Nadia had watched as Lewis gave his speech. Poised and elegant as he spoke, captivating the audience with his simple words and awe for the overall theme for the biggest night in fashion. He had done exceptionally well, shaking a few hands along the way to sit next to his wife once again.

Lewis’ heart in pride after hearing his wife begin her speech, drawing in every member of the crowd with her words whilst sprinkling humour in between. This was her stage. This was exactly where she was supposed to be. The glow in her skin had said more than enough, solidifying herself into the fashion world.

The world isn’t ready for what they would witness of the first Monday of May but they would know how incredibly proud Lewis is of Nadia and he would chant his praises to her until his voice went hoarse.

-

“Okay but Anna, what on earth are you talking about?” Nadia asked informally, the phone miraculously balancing between her ear and shoulder as she held the bowl for her brownie mixture.

“Nadia, dear. It has taken me some time to think over it but I would love for you to lead this entire photoshoot for the Met Issue for May. It’s a rather astounding amount of talent to be working with but I’d like for you to work with everyone and not just Lewis.” The older women rambled on the phone doing god knows what.

Anna Wintour’s words made Nadia stop in her tracks. She could barely envision herself walking up the Met steps yet she would have to direct an entire photoshoot? “Um..would I have to dress every single one of them or?” She questioned, placing everything back on the kitchen counter and adjusting her neck as it started to pain.

“Oh no, darling. That would be far too treacherous for you, seeing as you still have to deal with your own outfit for the day. Tell me, how many people are on your table?” Anna inquired, sounding more upbeat than usual. “Maybe 10 people? It’s all confirmed but my mind is all jumbled.” Nadia sighed out, barely noticing that she wiped her stained hand on her white shirt.

“Very well then…I shall let you be on your way and we shall keep in touch.” The older woman said her goodbyes and hung up.

And on her way Nadia was. The poor girl has never been more stressed out in her entire life than this very moment. Thank God Lewis knew how to work the camera and knew not to mess up his outfit as he manoeuvred around with his prop cane. She couldn’t even focus on how dapper he looked and how he was the very essence of Black Dandyism.

Everyone on the Vogue set could see the worry lines forming on Nadia’s forehead, the US Vogue team constantly missing basic instructions while the talent waited to be directed. Nadia held a laptop on Zoom majority of the photo shoot, trying to make grown adults do their job and they had done extremely well in the very end.

After a couple of hours after photos and interviews, Lewis quietly stepped into the dressing room, seeing Nadia sprawled out on the couch. “Hi sweetheart,” He basically cooed as he bent his knees to plant a light kiss on her forehead. She sprawled out of her sleep as she slowly opened her eyes.

“I was out like a fucking light, wasn’t I?” She groaned, stretching her limbs and turning to face Lewis, her hand instinctively moving to scratch his stubble a bit. “Yeah, today was rough on you but we’re going home now, okay?” He spoke softly to her, now kneeling on one knee to be within her eye level.

“Home?” She lightly repeated, her tone light and almost…needy. Lewis knew that she was slowly letting go and letting her emotions take over because of her exhaustion.

“Yes, home, baby. How does a nice bath sound? I could even order the butter chicken dish you like from the curry house few roads down from us.” He suggested, moving any little hairs from her face as he was close enough for their breaths to mingle.

Nadia simply nodded, her head falling onto Lewis’ shoulder with a gentle thump and he softly smiled. “There’s my girl. Let’s get you home, baby.” Lewis praised, careful to not move her head but managed to make them both stand up so he could guide her to the car.

“I need to burn those teal socks of yours, man.” Nadia murmured, glancing at the floor but still remembered the same pair of socks from months ago.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Lewis chuckled, circling his arm around her waist as they made their way out the dressing room and into the parking lot.

saint’s notes!: like i said just a small small thing 🤭 hope you enjoyed! i was gonna add his vogue shoot but i am SO tired 😭

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @goodgyalgonebadd @purplelewlew @lewismcqueen @muglermami @simplyyalika @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene @yeea-nah @lewisroscoelove @gg-trini @nichmeddar @greedyjudge2 @sunfairyy @saturnville @henneseyhoe

[misskingshit]

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘦 Summary: The most popular and hottest girl...into Stiles? Note: I'm watching Teen Wolf again because it's literally my comfort series and my crush on Stiles was just reborn (never died).

"He seemed very desperate," my best friend tells me.

"Poor boy, maybe I should help him," he laughed.

"Are you kidding? He's weird."

"Danny, I know, weird and kind of clumsy, but he has something...I don´t know what it its but..." I leaned against my locker, looking at Stiles in the distance, he seemed to be talking to Scott somewhat desperately.

"Maybe you are a kinky" He says.

"What the fuck does that mean" I look at him confused "what kind of kink".

"Oh, come one! don´t act as if you are not turn on by the fact that he´s a loser, in every sanse of the word, and you are the hottest girl".

I think about it a lil bit "I mean, yeah" my gaze just looked for the virgin boy "but he´s also like...really hot"

"So...you're going to do it" Danny smiles.

"Of course I'm gonna do it, for some reason his life depends on having sex...and I don't want him to die, it's a small favor" I smiled.

…

third person pov

"Stiles, I'll have sex with you."

Stiles opened his mouth in shock, not believing what he had heard. Scott, on the other hand, looked around, waiting for some hidden camera to come out or for everyone to start laughing because there was no chance that the hottest girl (and the cheer captain) would even know who the hell Stiles is.

"Danny told me something like your life literally depended on it, I honestly don't care" you moved closer to the human resting your hands on his shirt and getting closer to his face "I´ll help you out" you whispered.

He didn’t answer, he was frozen looking at you in shock.

“Only if you want to…” you moved away a little.

“YES!” Stiles screams “I mean, ‘m sorry, ye-yeah” he stuttered a bit, he was nervous.

You smiled.

...

"I DON´T KNOW MAN, SHUT UP, UR MAKING ME EVEN MORE NERVOUS!" Stiles screamed at his best friend, who couldnt help but not belive what just happened "maybe she´ll come to me when school is finished".

"Ain´t no way she wants to be seen with you" Scott just was in denial.

"Are you jelous, I mean what the fuck is wrong with you, thowing me a bad vibe all the time..."

Stiles was interrupted by the girl that is goin to take his virginity in a couple of hours "I´m sorry, I´m so silly" you laughted "forgot to tell you, my parents are on a work trip, so...Im home alone" you got even closer "you can fuck me as many times as you need, u know, just in case" you take a look at his lips, he took a look at your entire body, the cheerleader suit was definitely hot.

He could´t take it anymore.

"Why all of the sudden u want to have sex with me, do you want me to do you homework or..."

"Of course not Stiles, I´m doing grat in every class" he was surprised "you are hot, something about you is totally attracting me to you" you simply confessed "you need to have sex, and I want you to fuck me, so simple".

...

"Wow this is...like a fucking castle" he says looking around.

"Do u like it?" you looked at him while trowing your stuff into the gigant couch " I dont, it get lonely somtimes".

He looked at you, felt you sadness.

"Your parents are not around so much?" you just shacked your head as a no "well my dad is always working, and Im honestly dealing with a lot of things but...".

"You can come over whenever you want" you interrupted him "and also you can come to my house whenever u want"

Fuck, he loved your twisted sense of humor.

"Come here, I won´t bite...yet" you grabbed his heand and pulled him to your room upstairs.

You made him sat in your bed while you closed the door "so, why would you die if you don´t have sex" you asked wlking trowards him.

"I-I...I mean, is really hard to explain, like..." you saw how he was thinking so hard on what to say.

You walked in between his legs and started to guide his heands all over your body. Starting with your legs, a little bit under your skirt, your waist.

His breath was getting hard each time, just looking his heands touching -almost- every inch of you.

"You don´t need to tell me, don´t worry" you whisperd "just fuck me".

The last station for his heands were your tits, big and natural. Eagerly he started to touch 'em as much as he could, pressing 'em and feeling all of it. His dick getting harder with evry touch.

You legs surraunded all of him, sitting on his lap, you started to move slowly and, for him, painfully on his cook.

"Wanna see them" you touched you own tits, and all of the sudden, you top was nowhere to be found.

And Stiles, was far gone.

"Oh my god" he said out of air, leaning his mouth on your tits and making you feel so good. His heands on your ass at the same time, lifting your skirt.

"Stop moving like that please, I can't take ir any longer" he begged you.

"Don't" you simple said, then you kissed him.

You moving even more on his dick, the kiss so passionate, you being half naked was definitely too much for him. He came on his pants whithin seconds.

"Dont worry, it's okey, we have plenty of time" you smiled at him, biting you lip.

He just couldn't help it, and started kissing you again, soft, cute, but at the same time filled with passion and need.

"Stiles?" you separeted a lil bit. He just made a noise and looked at you "fuck me, right now, fuck me" .

As best you could, you pushed him towards the headboard of your bed, leaving him half-sitting with you on top of him.

In just seconds, both of you are were naked. Stiles was hugely surprised when he saw how you brought your face closer and closer, looking with desire at his dick. "May I?".

"Fuck yeah" he sights biting his lip in desire.

It was so big it barely fit in your mouth, but sucking on it was the best feeling you'd felt in a long time. Stiles couldn't even open his eyes; he was too turned on to even form a word. You were rigth, he's so hot.

You pulled his member out of your mouth and crawled towards him "Now I'm going to ride you, and I want you to fuck me as hard as you can"

And fuck...he did.

"Oh my god, Stiles!" you moan "Oh yes, right there" you looked at him smiling, with your eyes rolling back every time.

"Do you like it?" he asked bouncing into you even harder "you feel so good, damn, so tight" he said.

" God don't stop, please! harder!" you screamed.

And suddenly, his phone rings.

[serpentface]

What are the Wardi social views on scars like? Are visible scars considered attractive?

There's kind of a mixed poetic tradition as to whether scars are valuable to the image of a 'warrior' or not. A lot of older poetry (especially from the 1st Imperial Burri and warring kingdoms eras, ~800-550 years before present) has a tendency to describe their warrior-heroes as having completely unblemished, scar-free skin because they're just SO good at fighting that no one has ever lain a blow on them. The mythical Wardinae king Janes is usually described this way in the Erub cycle, with a lot of attention paid to his lack of scars (in addition to his albinism) to describe his visage as uniquely fearsome and intimidating. Erub is usually also described as near-unblemished, having received no scarring wounds in his long and accomplished history as a warrior-king save for one on his hip from the ceremonial bullfight of his coronation (and in the poem the bull is framed as a sort of demigod, so the Only thing that ever managed to mark his skin is divine).

Modern conventions tend to go in an opposite direction, with kind of an 'okay but like REALLY if a warrior is completely devoid of scars it's because he's either green or a pussy' attitude. Poems written in the past few centuries sometimes will go on tangents to describe, in great detail, how and why a character got his various scars. This trend utilizes description of scars as a means of showcasing great feats, and the virtues of the character by extension. The trope of listing virtuous scars is significant enough that there's a popular comedic folk song that parodies it, describing a drunkard character's various scars and all the deeply non-virtuous ways he got them. (It's lyrics often vary by whoever sings it, as the goal is to come up with the most embarrassing ways to get a scar possible).

In terms of social attitudes towards real life people, it kind of depends on the person and the extent/type of scarring. Scarring (outside of the small offering wounds on the hands) is pretty universally considered ugly on women, ESPECIALLY if it's on the face. Completely unblemished skin is a (rarely attainable) ideal of feminine beauty, in part as a class-indicator that a woman performs no hard labors and doesn't leave the home much in general. Many women will feel strong incentives to obscure any facial scars with makeup. One CAN potentially own it by having a good enough story for how you got your scars, which won't stop them from being perceived as ugly but will soften reactions somewhat.

Attitudes towards scarring are generally MUCH more positive for men. In a lot of cases it Can Be considered attractive, as a sort of visual proof of bravery, good health (via survival) and general machismo. It tends to be regarded as especially attractive when a man is known to have warrior status, so you can at least Assume he got his scars from something cooler than 'my friend threw a plate at me when we were drunk' or 'I fell off a khait'). A lot of men take great pride in battle scars (or scars they can pass off as such) and will actively show them off, and in general men don't tend to feel pressures to hide their wounds.

There are still limiting factors to this, especially when scarring is an aspect of disability or facial difference. This society is not overall Horrible towards its physically disabled people (it is culturally standard and expected to care for disabled family members) but having a body that is considered 'broken' is often regarded with pity, discomfort, and a degree of disgust. In some cases it can effectively 'emasculate' a man via inability to perform physically active male roles (this doesn't mean you are Treated as effeminate for being disabled, it's often more of an internal struggle with yourself and the way people pity you). Scarring associated with disability only tends to get the 'cool' treatment for elders, a sign of their strength in having led a hard life and survived into old age. Very significant scarring that strongly effects the shape of the face or limbs (such as major burns) tends to get a Strong and demeaning response of disgust and pity.

Ritual self-wounding for small offerings of blood is a part of practice (though I've toned down the frequency of routine offerings, laymen are expected to do it once a lunar month, and in practice it's usually less due to other limiting factors like holidays or unclean states), and it crops up as a necessity in other irregularly occurring rites. Most people have small scars on their hands from this, and if you're married you will have a larger scar across one of your palms from the blood-kinship aspects of the ceremony. These scars are markers of your connection to God or to another human being, and many people feel a distinct sense of comfort and pride in them.

Some priests are expected to perform auto-blood offerings more extensively and more frequently (inwenii and galenii most prominently) and elder priests may have highly visible scarring over large swaths of their bodies, usually in patterns and functionally being a socially accepted form of scarification (which is otherwise generally considered 'barbaric'). This is seen as a marker of their service and their venerable positions, though it becomes a cause for concern when laymen decide they want to get in on this too. Religiously framed self-harm (I'm defining this as self-injury that is at least partly spiritually motivated and exceeds accepted bounds of orthopraxic blood offering) is a problem that crops up in this society. In most cases it's a 'once in a while' thing, someone feels desperate and believes extraneous offering of blood is all they have to give, but it can become habitual and be very noticeable via the scars. There has not yet been any real societal reckoning with this behavior; opinions range from occasional support ('it's a show of devotion') to indifference to mockery to heavy condemnation ('it's common laymen intruding upon and corrupting the duties of the priesthood').

And yeah as mentioned, Most forms of scarification (and other permanent body modification) are considered strange heathen practices at best or barbaric at worst. 'Barbaric' forms of scarification are mainly associated with Dain-speaking peoples across the Viper to the northeast, and are also erroneously described as a Finn practice (it's not Really, though their tattooing style does involve deeper wounds that form slight raised surfaces). Foreign scarification tends to get xenophobic descriptions as mutilation, a purposeless devaluing of the body and living spirit, reflective of broader societal evils and disregard for body taboo like performing sky burials (common funerary practice for respected dead across many North Viper peoples) or wanton murder and cannibalism (imaginary).

[roostersluvvr]

a song already written

din djarin x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k

summary ⋆·˚ ༘ *: you live a simple life on the planet lah’mu, working as a farmer (& occasional mechanic). your life had routine and was undisturbed, until one day a man, clad in beskar armour walked onto your farm and asked for a place to stay— as the weeks roll by, you become closer to the masked man and his small green companion.

(rogue one is mentioned like once, reader was previously a spy in the rebellion, lah’mu is the planet at the beginning of rogue one for those who don’t know, readers family comes from mandalore, reader WAS a mandalorian but not apart of ‘the watch’— only mentioned a few times, sometime between s1 & 2, no use of y/n, reader speaks mando'a (I provided translations)).

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of injury, nudity, sexual content/themes(?), alcohol consumption, fluff, angst(??),reader & din are lonely & touch starved lmao, extreme overuse of the words 'pang' and 'twinge', awkward first encounters, over usage of “—“ and commas, explicit content, the helmet stays ON. correct capitalisation not used, terrible writing overall tbh so bare with me pls :( — lmk if I missed anything :)) !!not entirely proofread!!

the weather on lah’mu was unpredictable. most of the time it was some sort of foggy overcast, which you didn’t mind— helped with your moisture farming. it helped keep your crops healthy, and that in turn helped you earn credits.

there was the occasional cold snap— the ground would frost over, the lakes, the cattle would die. you couldn’t count on both your hands how many times one of your orbak’s had died in the cold overnight. then the summer would roll around, more sunshine, less damp, happier cattle. simple.

that was until about 3 days ago.

you’d been out harvesting vegetables from your crops not far from your home, when you’d met him. you heard his footsteps against the damp ground before you actually saw him. you dropped what crops were in your hands into a crate and hovered your dominant hand over your blaster holstered at your side.

he was tall, broad, and incredibly metallic. he broke the silence first— “hello.” he had said. a crackle running through the modulator in his helmet. you recognised the composition of his armour, beskar no doubt, and it was clear he was a mandalorian. what is he doing out here? you wondered.

“can i help you?” you replied. water droplets rolled down your outer coat and your cold, flushed cheeks.

“i’m looking for shelter. my ship is in need of repair and as far as i can tell the nearest town is at least a days journey from here.” his voice is clear, confident.

“you’d be right. there’s a few outposts— trading, medical, what not. you’re not gonna find someone to fix it there.” you rambled, picking up the crate that lay next to your feet and taking a few steps closer to him.

“i might be able to help. i know a thing or two about mechanics.” you continued.

his helmet tilted in relief (you had assumed). “great.” he said. “i’m willing to pay in exchange for your assistance.”

“you any good at gathering, forging and harvesting?” you asked. you did need help getting the rest of your crops ready and its produce out to the surrounding inhabitants.

he nodded in silent reply.

“good. come on in and i can get you settled.” you turned back towards the house, carrying the crate with vegetables on your hip.

the door opened with a soft hiss, the warmth from inside contrasting the cold breeze from outside. there was a warm glow inside your home. no large overhead lights, but lots of smaller lamps. mando took note of the way your coat hang over a bucket to collect the rainwater that still was clung to its fabric. your home was spacious, but cozy. you walked toward the kitchen area and placed the crate into the sink, then back towards him.

“i have a spare room, it’s not large but it should keep you comfortable.” your gaze fell behind him. a small metal cradle followed his every step.

he followed your eye-line, slightly tensing. the cradle opened to reveal the child. small, asleep, and peaceful. you turned your face back to the mandalorian and smiled. “i wasn’t expecting a baby as well.”

“he’s older than me.” he informs. you chuckle and lead him to the room at the end of the hall. the door opens with another soft hiss, and mando is pleasantly surprised. the room has a large bed, dresser, mirror and sink, and a small window closer towards the ceiling. there’s a small lamp beside the bed that is giving off a warm orange hue. he steps inside and looks over the room in more detail. it’s much nicer than the hostels he's accustomed to and winds up in most nights when the razor crest is having some sort of repairs done. it feels like a home.

"bathroom is down the hall, next to my room. you're welcome to use anything you need, so is the little guy."

"well, that's bound to happen." he chuckles softly. "thank you." he holds out his hand for you to shake. you willingly accept with a warm smile.

"why don't you show me your ship, and i can start to get my head around what needs looking at?" you turn your body towards the 'common area' of your home. there's a curved couch off to the side, surrounded by several crates used for storage and some others with crops, tools, and one with just blankets, etc. you step back toward the door and pick up your tool box on the way out, reaching up for your coat on the hook.

"sure. sooner you start, the sooner I'll be out of your way." he follows behind you closely. the cradle stays stationary in his the room.

you nod. he leads you a little ways away from your fields to where the razor crest sits upon the black soil. it's not the most glamorous ship you've ever seen, but your breath is still taken away by it. it's old, like most of the ships you see in and out of the outposts regularly. a thin coat of dust from the soil coats the bottom of the ship, while the rain drips slowly off of the top. he walks ahead of you again and the ramp descends. the first thing that catches your attention in the cargo hold of his ship is the several bodies that hang, frozen in carbonite. a bounty hunter, you think to yourself- making a mental note. as you take in more of the ship, there's various metal chests and crates, a small armoury, and a cot off to the side. considerably smaller than the bed you've provided for him.

"what seems to be acting up?" you ask as you continue to walk further into the ship.

"my stabilisers gave out on entry, the hyperdrive also has been having some hiccups. I can't fly in realspace, it's too dangerous." his voice laced in frustration. understandable.

you hum in reply. "bounty hunter, I assume?" you question simply. his helmet tilts towards you. "yeah" he nods & says after a pause, "that a problem?" he presses.

"no." you smile slightly. he nods again. "good." his voice is flat. he leads you to the hyperdrive, and you kneel down to get a closer look. it's steaming and giving off heat. you mentally curse. it's not going to be a particularly easy job, AND the stabilisers need work too. you didn't realise you had actually sighed until the mandalorian shifts his weight behind you and finally sighs out, "how bad is it?"

you take a moment to do the mental math, "it could take a few weeks, at least.. the hyperdrive is too hot right now to do anything to it- but giving off steam isn't a good sign. the only comfort I get from looking at it is that it's still bright, if the light was dimmed or flickering then that would be symptom of a bigger problem. what's up with the stabilisers again?" you rise up to his level again, not realising how close your bodies are until he speaks again.

"they gave out, mostly the rear ones. makes it pretty hard to see how to land since the nose rises. it's choppy but not unbearable." he shifts again.

you nod. more mental math going on in your head. "when are you hoping to get off planet?— soon, with the bounties, I assume you have a time period?" you question, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I don't have to be back to deliver for a while. my employer knows I have the bounties in carbonite. not like they're going anywhere." his voice is steady. he tilts his head down slightly to see your face fully. you're suddenly aware of the proximity of your bodies. you can almost hear his steady breaths from underneath the helmet.

you nod again, squeezing past him and back into the cargo hold. "I can get started straight away, if you want. a few hours of daylight left. I prefer not to work in the dark."

"okay." he moves past you and down the ramp. you watch as he disappears around the corner of the ship and out of sight before you place your tool box down and crack it open, gathering what tools you'll need. you strip yourself of your raincoat and lay it on the ramp, not wanting to get any rain water on the floors. you get to work quickly on the stabilisers, locating the door panel for the side door and opening it in hopes that it'll help the hyperdrive cool down quicker. you start compiling a inventory of spare parts you may need- but ultimately decide to come back to that when you start on the hyperdrive. the stabilisers are an easy fix. a lot of the time they start to act up because they're out of alignment, easily done if you’re regularly getting yourself into dogfights, hard landings, and climbing too quickly from initial takeoff— the stabilisers get confused because of the speed of climb combined with your low altitude. you make easy work of it, tightening a few bolts and carefully aligning the pieces back together. the rain starts up again, the soft pitter patter being heard from the rain hitting the top of the ship. you easily swing into work, completely focused.

as the daylight starts to slowly fade into evening dark, you gather your tools again and walk back to the hyperdrive to check on the temperature. it's cooling down, slowly but surely. you decide to pick that job back up in the morning. you close the side door before making your way down the back ramp. tool box in hand, you make your way back to the house.

the clang of your tool box being dropped a little too carelessly startles the mandalorian, he turns towards the door with the cradle now next to him as he sits on the couch.

"stabilisers are fixed, the hyperdrive is still too hot to do anything. hopefully the rain will cool down the ship and the hyperdrive and I'll pick it up tomorrow." you ramble, taking off your boots and raincoat, leaving them in their designated places by the door.

"thank you." he says. the cradle is empty, and you spot the small green creature sat on the other side of the couch with a small metal ball in his hands. you smile.

"you hungry?" you pace to the kitchen.

"sure. the little one needs to eat, too." he pushes the cradle away and stands.

"I've got pog soup. just needs to reheat." you pull the large pot onto your stove, setting the heat to low so it simmers.

the mandalorian perks up. he can't remember the last time he had something so traditional. a common meal on mandalore.

you walk back past the couch and towards the fresher. "I'm gonna freshen up, heat is on low so if it start's bubbling over, just turn it off." he nods and follows your frame. once you disappear into the fresher and the door locks, he looks around the room. various lamps start to turn on the darker it gets outside, a soft warm hue all over. there's several crates scattered over the room. harvested crops sitting on the counter next to the sink, some books next to the couch on a small side table, nothing he recognised. he slowly steps around the room, he spots the rifle holster next to the door, pristine condition. either hardly used or just magnificently well looked after. there is a small wardrobe in the corner of the room, a light on the panel to it occasionally blinking. his curiosity peaks and he walks over, pressing the button to it. the door slides upwards into the ceiling and reveals a set of mandalorian armour kept neatly inside.

his heart rate picks up. where did you get it? why do you have it? these reel through his head, his trail of thought interrupted by the child cooing next to his feet. he closes the wardrobe and picks him up. "I'm not sure about this one, kid." the child tilts his head and coos again. mando sighs out slowly. the sound of the fresher door opening makes him raise his head again, hand on his holster.

you walk out from the hall way, hair damp from the shower. "the food should be hot enough now." you say as you reach the kitchen, pulling three bowls out from a cupboard.

"where'd you get the armour?" he questions. you place the bowls on the counter slowly. "did you kill someone for it?" he accuses in a flat tone.

"no." you reply.

"how do you have it?" he presses further.

"it's been in my family for a few generations. my parents come from mandalore, I was raised as one." you confess.

"you remove your helmet?" he's puzzled. that's when you realise he's a child of 'the watch'.

your muscles relax. "are you apart of 'the watch'?"

"yes. we follow the way." he stays still.

"'the watch' follows the ancient interpretation of The Way. more spiritual too." you continue, serving some of the soup into each bowl.

"you don't follow it?" he steps forward.

"no. my family followed the more modern practices." you push a bowl across the counter towards him. he relaxes a bit, stepping in front of the counter and setting the child down on top of it. he coo's at his own bowl and sits down.

"Gaa'tayl yourself" help yourself, you say.

"gar jorhaa'ir mando'a?" you speak mando'a?, he replies.

"yeah." you pick up your own bowl and sip on your soup. "my mother taught me."

he hums, his own bowl closer. he lifts his helmet just high enough so he can drink from it. "you're a devout follower of the way?" you inquire, leaning against the counter with your hip. he slips his helmet back on fully, "yes." without elaborating. the child burps after finishing his bowl and you chuckle. a light laugh comes through mando's modulator. it makes you smile. a reminder of his humanity beneath the thick and heavy beskar that is adorned across his body.

after the child finished about 4 more bowls of pog soup, he crashed on the couch and was softly snoring. you sat outside under the cover of your porch, listening to the rain and thunder. the mandalorian stood in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed. there was comfortable silence between you two, only being interrupted by the crashes of thunder. mando occasionally turned his gaze to you, taking in your frame from where you sat, in your rocking chair. the soft creak of the wood falling into a soothing rhythm. you decide to break the silence first, "I'll try to work quickly on the hyperdrive, I might need to go to one of the outposts if I don't have the parts I need." you turn your head slightly towards him, awaiting a reply, and he does. "I can give you the credits for the parts." he offers.

"don't worry, I'll see what I have in my inventory first." turning your head back towards the vast fields that stretch for miles, the mountains in the distance being illuminated by the lightning.

"so you're a farmer?" mando asks, tiredness creeping into his voice. "yes, not where I thought I'd end up but, I'm happy." you inform.

"what did you do before?" he asks. you contemplate telling him your whole life story or a summarised version, settling on the latter.

"after the purge on mandalore, my father brought me to Tatooine. my mother died during the purge, and my father soon after. he had a bounty out on him from the empire. I managed to hide. he left me my mother's armour before he gave himself up. he was wanted dead, so I assume that's how he ended up after he was taken." you pause. the mandalorian shifts his weight on his feet, taking in everything.

"I started to do jobs here and there," you continue. "fixing speeders, handling market stalls while the owners went to do other business, helping out on moisture farms, running errands, things like that. I had finally managed to save up enough credits to get off of Tatooine and made my way to Alderaan. I enrolled in their education programme— I studied linguistics for a while, then mechanics, and eventually politics. my teachers then realised I had no valid or real identity documents, so I was expelled. started doing more jobs here and there until they released the same." you continue to ramble. mando listens intently.

"what did you do then?" he presses.

"whatever I had to. I started to steal things here and there. then I moved on to stealing bigger things— cargo shipments, things like that. then by accident I ended up stealing valuable information off of a rebel informant, which led the rebels to me. they recognised my talent for stealing things and offered me a position in the rebellion. steal intelligence, commit treason against the empire, that sort of thing. I eventually got partnered up with other rebel spies. a man named cassian andor was my longest standing partner. the others thought I was too reckless and had me reassigned after a few weeks. not cassian, though. he lead the assault team on scarif, while I fought off the aerial assault, to steal the Death Star plans. I never saw him or the rest of his squad again. after the Death Star was destroyed, I bailed out. thought that was the end of it, clearly not." you chuckle sadly.

mando steps closer, still listening silently.

"decided it wasn't for me after that. maybe I'll go back."

"you still believe in the cause?" he speaks up finally. "of course." you turn your face to him. "I of all people understand the importance of bringing the empire to its knees, like it does to so many people." you finish. he nods.

"then I came to lah'mu. an older woman needed help on her farm since she was slowing down with her old age, I offered myself willingly. she left everything to me after she died. she had no family, so now it's mine. I take care of the harvest each season and the small amount of cattle too. mostly orbak's to help with gathering." you add.

"orbak's aren't native to this planet, must be expensive?" he inquires more. "well, I had more. the old lady had bought them with some sort of pension money. a few have died in the cold snaps we had over the past few winter cycles. I'm trying to build them a hut outside, but, building materials are sparse right now." you finished your rambling. "I'm gonna turn in, the door will lock itself. Just put in the code I told you earlier if you get locked out." you stand from your chair and step past him into the house. "goodnight."

"night" he nods. the door slides closed after you disappear inside. Mando decides to check on the ship before turning in himself, walking out into the rain and past the fields.

when he walks onto the ship, he's taken aback by how tidy you left everything. he’s used to other mechanics making a mess of his cargo while they work and not leaving it how they found it. he inspects the stabilisers and is pleased with them. he checks the hyperdrive before returning to the house and it's cooling down nicely.

before mando sleeps, he picks grogu up from the couch and places him in his cradle, closing it as he stations it in the corner of his room. he waits until he can't hear any movement from your room to strip himself of his beskar and helmet, walking to the fresher in the dark. when he comes back to his room he puts his flight suit back on and his helmet, before succumbing to sleep. the bed cradles his own body, moulding to him.

weeks had passed, and you were still working on the razor crests hyperdrive. it had proved to be a harder job than you had anticipated. you had profusely apologised to mando for the hold up, and he had repeatedly told you to stop apologising. over the last couple of weeks you had grown closer together. you started to occasionally have conversations in mando'a— his was rusty, so you helped tutor him on it. he had told you about grogu and how he came to become his 'guardian' of sorts. you learned after a few too many osskorn stout's, that his name was din. it rolled off the tongue nicely. you had told him your name too, and it's mandalorian origins. you had become friends.

it was nice to have someone around. since there wasn't many large settlements on lah'mu, you had gotten used to only seeing the same 10-15 people at the various outposts that you frequented. you wouldn't say you were friends with any of the surrounding farmers and traders, but you were friendly. you'd trade things among yourselves, crops or vegetables for scrap parts and scrap building materials, meals for clothing, etc. during din's stay he had helped you build a hut for the orbak's, just like you wanted.

you both had grown accustomed to falling into a routine with one another. he'd help you with the farm, you'd help with the crest, with grogu, and so on. you made it a habit to sit out on the porch of an evening and watch the world pass by— sometimes in silence, and sometimes you'd talk for hours. you'd covered about every conversation topic possible by week 5.

you'd also started to become frustrated with one another, as well. you'd bicker like an old married couple on occasion, over small insignificant things. you told yourself it was only because you'd both been alone for so long that you weren't used to the constant company. whenever you'd get in a real snit, din would go for a walk to cool off. you'd wash what vegetables you'd gathered that day and cook something with them, and play with grogu to self regulate your emotions. din would always come back, his demeanour calmer. you'd place a bowl in front of him with some sort of meal, and he'd always apologise first. it was sweet really. you'd never admit it to him, but you'd started to procrastinate your progress on the crest because you didn't really want him to leave. you started to feel a pang in your chest whenever you would get close to him, and he felt a twinge in his— but neither of you paid too much attention to it or at least tried not to.

one morning you'd both quested to ride out to one of the further outposts, the two closer ones didn't have what you needed. grogu sat in a satchel on the side of the orbak that din rode, cooing at the birds that flew above. you didn't usually venture out this far until the summer, when the weather was more predictable and forgiving, but this was a trip of necessity. bandits were known to roam those areas, so you tended to steer clear of it as a single woman, but you felt safer with din. your rifle strap had started to dig into your shoulder and neck by hour 2, and you still had a handful of miles to go until you reached the outpost. while you were passing through one of the mountain valleys, the orbak's had gotten spooked by something. "easy! easy..." you tried to calm them, but to no avail. soon enough, it was revealed what had spooked them.

bandits. about 5 of them. you cursed internally. you knew this wasn't a good route to take. din immediately went into bounty hunter mode, pulling his rifle closer to him and ready for anything. your hand was over your own blaster. you knew better than to come this way, you thought.

the bandits had their own blasters and rifles raised as they made their way closer towards the two of you, your orbak's still unsettled. "what do you want?" you interrogated. one of them spoke in an alien language you didn't really understand, but you got the gist of it. they wanted whatever cargo you had with you, and din's armour.

"you'd have to take this armour off of my cold dead body." din replied immediately.

one of the bandits cursed and raised his rifle higher. you started to map out an escape route in your mind. from the looks of it, they were all on foot— probably camping out until some unfortunate souls, like you and din, had come through the valley. you reckoned that you two could out run them on the orbak's. you turned your head towards din and nodded. then you unholstered your blaster and shot the one closest to din and your orbak's bolted. the other bandits immediately started to fire on you, one hitting your orbak's leg. it tumbled over and took you with it. you scrambled to your feet and started firing back at them, ducking behind a rock. din quickly dismounted his own orbak and fired back at them as well.

"so what's your plan of getting out of here??" he yelled over. "my plane was flee, but clearly that didn't work!" you yelled back.

"you think?" he fired at them again. you were outnumbered, any regular traveller would be signing their own death warrant in this situation, but you and din were mandalorians, trained from infancy and early childhood. battle coordination was second nature to you both. you decided to push up further towards them, and din gave you cover fire. you had to admit your aim wasn't as good as it used to be— out of practice, you told yourself.

while you weren't paying attention, you got a blaster bolt to your upper shoulder and your side. rookie mistake. din called out your name, and pressed forward. you managed to pull yourself behind another rock while blaster fire still rained. din pressed various buttons on his vambrace, and several mini rockets shot out of the other one— taking down the rest of them.

"couldn't you have done that earlier?" you said, dripping in sarcasm. when you went to laugh, the pain in your ribs was too powerful. you winced and clutched your side, pulling away to see blood. not too much, but enough to make you worry. din shuffled over to you quickly and knelt by your side, his eyes scanning over your body for any other injuries. as far as he could tell, it was just your shoulder and side that got hit. thank the maker, he thought to himself. one hand came to your side, the other to cup your cheek. pang. "you okay??" his voice more panicked than before.

"never better." you managed a smile. he shook his head and chuckled. "always gotta be a smarts.." he added. he helped you rise to your feet while you still clutched your side, picking your blaster up from the floor and holstering it for you. you limped towards his orbak, your own still on the floor. it's leg was hurt badly. there was no way that you could get it back to the farm, or to the outpost, to help it. you sighed in defeat. "he's not gonna make it back.." you nodded towards it, lying on the ground, struggling to stand back up.

din walked you over to his orbak and you held onto the saddle to balance after he let go. he walked over to the other orbak and took his pistol in his hand and shot the animal in the back of the head. quick and painless. you felt relief come over you, and then the pain started— your adrenaline wearing off now. you winced again, clutching tighter onto the saddle next to you.

din strutted over to you, "how far is the outpost? do they have medical supplies there?" he rushingly asks. "it's still about 30 miles. we won't get there until dark, and by now there's probably more bandits in the area." you clutched your side tighter to try and ease the pain that was overstimulating your senses.

"how far back home?" he helps you balance by holding you up by your forearm. that familiar pang in your chest. "about 15. if the orbak gallops we can get back in an hour." you reply between winces. din nods. his hands fall to your waist and he lifts you onto the back of the orbak like you weigh nothing. another pang in your chest. his hands linger at your waist longer than they needed to. din hoists himself up on the saddle behind you after, taking the reigns of the orbak and turning him around, setting a steady speed back towards home.

you steadied yourself by grabbing the handle at the front of the saddle, the occasional coo's of grogu helping you distract yourself from the lingering ache and burning sensation that was tearing into the left side of your body. eventually, exhaustion over took your body and you somehow managed to lull to sleep, your head resting against din's shoulder. he had tried to keep you awake, distract you by asking various questions about the crest. 'how do you align the stabilisers?', 'whats the most common type of hyperdrive circuit arrangement for pre-new republic ships?', etc.

as soon as you reached the house your eyes snapped open to the sudden halt of movement. you pulled yourself forward so that din could slide down, before he took you by the waist again to get you down. he grabbed the satchel with grogu inside and helped you slowly hobble into the house. he set you down on the couch gently, along with the satchel. grogu crawled out and wobbled towards you, putting his small hand on your arm.

"medkit?" din asks. you silently point to a metal cupboard by the wardrobe. din paces over to it quickly, taking out all it's contents. bacta, he thought, perfect.

"I hope you're not scared of needles." he said before injecting the bacta syringe into your thigh, not giving you time to respond. your pain immediately started to subside. you thanked the maker. din peeled off your raincoat slowly, careful not to pull your arm too much to keep the pain in your shoulder to a minimum. your head fell back against the top of the sofa, your breathing becoming a little less rapid as the bacta targeted your wounds. the blaster bolt had gone completely though your coat and shirt. go figure. din had a mental dilemma with himself. he had to remove your shirt to properly treat your injuries. dank farrik.

"I... need to take this off." he said flatly, almost shy— like he was excepting you to say 'get fucked'. but you didn't, you just nodded. he carefully and agonisingly slowly lifted your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra. a twinge in his chest. a pang in yours.

"gota'la" maker, you said with a string of curses afterwards. din cracked open the medkit and pulled out what he needed. some sort of burn ointment, an antibacterial spray, and some gauze along with bandaging tape. he took his gloves off to be more effective, revealing warm, tanned skin. such a contrast to his cold leather gloves that he always wore. pang.

he started by spraying the antibac on your skin, and suddenly the bacta didn't seem as effective as it was before. you hissed and clamped your teeth together, your head lulling forward, grabbing onto din's forearm. a twinge in his chest. "I gotcha.." he reassured you softly. your head rested back on the couch as din continued to nurse you. the burn ointment helping to cool the skin, the sting starting to wear off again. your grip on his arm relaxed. he started to piece you back together, protecting the wounds with gauze, and taping it in place securely. you sighed with relief once he was finished, your hand slipping from his arm to his hand. another twinge.

"better?" he asked. "better." you repeated back to him. a sigh of relief coming through his modulator. grogu coo'd happily, shuffling away to his cradle and climbing in. you raised your head to look at din. his eyes searched for any discomfort in your face from under his helmet, behind the visor. another twinge.

"thank you." you sighed quietly. "I don't know why I took us that way, I know better than to go through that valley."

"hey. we made it out alive, that's the important part. maybe with one less orbak, but we made it back home." he soothed you, his hand coming to cup your cheek. pang. twinge.

butterflies.

both of your breathing steadied, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. you leaned into his touch shamelessly. pang, twinge.

you both stay there for a moment, you splayed against the couch, and din crouched between your knees. you hadn't realised the compromising position you were until now, and neither did he.

pang, twinge.

"you better not take advantage of me while I'm vulnerable, mando." you teased.

"din." he corrected you. "din" you echoed.

"I wouldn't dream of it." he confessed. "liar." you teased further.

"shot twice and you're still a little shit." he chuckled. pang.

you smiled. twinge. your hand squeezing his. pang, twinge.

din had helped you into your bed that night after you ate something to help with your strength, still stiff and sore. he tucked you in and stroked your hair out of your face as you laid against your pillow. as he pulled away, you grasped his hand. he stilled. twinge. you very quickly gave into exhaustion, dropping his hand as you slept. he lingered. watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. he left the door to your room open, and retired to his own room. his door open too, so he could listen out if you needed anything.

you had slept right through to early afternoon the next day. you cursed to yourself when you realised the time. you had crops to gather, chores to do, and a hyperdrive to procrastinate about. din wasn't there when you woke up. and an orbak was missing. he had left a note on the front door— "went to the outpost early this morning. will be back before dark. soup on the stove."

another pang in your chest. it felt domesticated, the note, the taking care of you last night, the lingering touches. you decided to go down to the lake near one of the crop fields and throw some nets in, hoping to catch some sort of fish. after no luck, you brought the nets back in. you suddenly realised you were in need of a shower, but laziness would tell you to just bathe in the lake. din wouldn't be back for another hour or two. you could be in and out before he was back.

you stripped yourself of your boots and pants, slowly lifting your shirt over your head. the cold breeze starting to nip at your skin. you peeled the bandaging away from your wounds slowly, and they were healing nicely. they were going to scar, but you didn't mind that much. you shed yourself of the last of your underwear, and into the lake you went. the cold water initially shot through your body, but subsided once you started to move around. you dipped your head under the water and rubbed your face. unbeknownst to you, din was closer to home than you had realised. he was walking along side the orbak, supplies he'd gotten at the outpost taking his place on the saddle, along with grogu's cradle following closely. he had seen something in the distance as he approached the house, his senses peaking. then, you raised up out of the water slightly. your hair, soaked, trailing down your back. he froze. he didn't want to watch you, it would be disrespectful and against his creed. but he couldn't look away.

he soaked in the sight of you, your curves, your bare skin, and the way your hair was cascading down your back. grogu coo'd and suddenly he was brought back to the present. he turned his back and took the orbak to the hut, unloading the cargo from it and it's saddle.

you had heard grogu's distant coo's and decided that was your queue to get out and make yourself decent. you rushed out of the lake and into the side door of the house, jogging to your room with your clothes cradled in your arms. you grabbed a towel and squeezed dry your hair, putting on a larger tunic and shorts. you could hear din's boots against the floor of the house, announcing his presence.

you walked down the hallway and out of your room to see din unpacking the supplies from the outpost, grogu sat on the counter watching.

you could get used to this kind of view. pang. you suddenly thought of the hyperdrive again, and you felt guilty for keeping din here longer than you actually needed to. you knew he'd tell you to stop apologising. deep down he didn't actually mind, and he was dreading having to leave. he'd gotten to used to the routine of seeing you when he woke up, rambling about something to grogu while you cradled him in your arms, too used to helping you around the farm, doing some of your chores with you, seeing you working hard on the crest to "repair' the hyperdrive. he'd gotten too used to you, and he didn't know if he could break that routine now. even if it weren't here, on lah'mu, on the farm, if he just had you with him— that would be enough.

he hears your soft footsteps and raises his head. twinge. he's all of a sudden aware of your lack of clothing on your bottom half. twinge.

"hey, feeling better?" he pushed the crate aside, giving you his full attention. pang. "yeah. you went to the outpost?" you stepped closer.

"yeah. I got what you needed." he leans against the doorframe to the kitchen. pang.

as you got closer, you're realising all over again how big he is. he's broad, he's got a strong frame, and he's slightly taller too. you think back to how he carried metal beams over to where you wanted the hut for the orbak's, how he didn't even break a sweat, and how he so effortlessly carried your body. pang. you step closer again. twinge.

"I'm gonna try get back to working on your hyperdrive, I promise." you lean against the counter. "don't worry about it." he chuckles, instead of ripping into you about apologising. "I don't mind being held up." he confesses. pang. twinge. he tilts his helmet to get a better look at you, his eyes scanning you up and down. thank the maker the visor of his helmet hides his shameless gawking at you and your body. his eyes trail up your bare legs— he thinks back to the lake. mapping out the rest of your body underneath the large dusty blue tunic that hides it. twinge. you can read him easily, you can almost sense his wandering eyes from beneath the beskar. pang.

"I don't want you to leave." your voice barely above a whisper. he shifts his weight and stand straight, stepping closer to you. you swallow, looking up at him slightly. his hand comes up to rest on your good shoulder, the other on your forearm of your bad side. pang. twinge.

"I know." his modulator crackles slightly. you stand up straight and mirror his posture, your hand comes up top rest on his forearm. pang, twinge. you wish you could see his eyes. even though you don't follow the creed, you respect it. you know he won't take his helmet off, even for you, you think.

he moves his hand from your shoulder to cup your face. "I don't think I can go across the galaxy without you." he quietly mutters your name and brushes his thumb across your cheekbone softly. pang, twinge.

"then don't leave"— your internal dialogue coming out before you have time to stop it. pang, twinge, butterflies. he's staring at you more intently now, and you can't help the warm sensation that pools in your abdomen. "you'd want to keep me around?" he questions. you nod. pang, twinge.

he tilts his helmet to rest against your forehead. a kov'nyn. a mandalorian kiss. pang, twinge, butterflies. silent admission.

"this is the way." his voice is shy and quiet. "ibic cuyir te ara." you echo, in mando'a.

he steps closer, engulfing your frame in his broad one. your hands come to his helmet, stroking the sides of it gently. "I'm yours." you sigh airily. that's all it takes for him to switch. he grabs at your body, moving you towards your bedroom with hast. the back of your legs hit the bed and you sit, he kneels down and tugs at the bottom of your tunic— looking for permission. you pull the tunic over your head, your bare breasts on display for him. he soaks in every detail. he pulls his gloves odd before he touches you, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin with his own hands. he palms gently at the soft tissue, a quiet whimper escaping your lips.

"so perfect" he breaks the silence, moving his hands up and down your torso, inching closer to the waist band of your shorts. you lift yourself up so that he can pull them down, and they're discarded somewhere to the side. you don't care enough to notice, just focusing on him.

he moves his hands over your waist and hips, squeezing the soft flesh there gently. he moves lower, towards your thighs, then the back of your knees, pulling them apart. cold breeze tingles lightly at your core. you're already soaked, and he knows it. he chuckles. "all this for me, cyar'ika?" he teases, moving his hands agonisingly closer to where you need him most.

"stop teasing." you pant, sounding more needy than you wanted to.

"I'm just taking my time, savouring every moment..." he replies breathily. he moves his hands to the inside of your thighs, stroking up and down them slowly. you move your hands to prop you up, anticipating his next move. he takes one finger and pulls it up through your slit slowly, watching your face twist in relief. a soft gasp leaves your mouth. he adds another finger, paying more attention to your clit this time. pang, pang, pang. he circles it softly and gently, then he pinches it— you wince with pleasure and tilt your head to the side. 'din, please..." you beg pathetically.

"easy, cyar'ika..." he says lowly, circling your clit faster this time. you can feel the coil in your belly getting tighter. then suddenly, he slips a finger into your entrance, while his other hand palms at your thigh. you moan— shamelessly. then he adds another. his thick fingers pumping in and out slowly, methodically. you throw your head back and cling onto his forearm that lays on your thigh.

"din— please— fuck.." you breathe rapidly. he watches as your breasts bounce slightly from the rise and fall of your laboured breathes. he likes this. the making you wait, watching you fall apart.. all just from a couple of his fingers. he smiles drunkly under the helmet. the pressure in your belly is getting tighter, and your breathe is picking up pace— almost in synchronisation with his fingers speeding up.

he moves this hand from your thigh to play with your clit using his thumb, pressing and swirling around. your moans are getting more high pitched, and your propping yourself up with your elbows now. your head lulls back as you moan again. din's pants start to feel tighter and tighter with each sound you make, his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

"let go for me." he says, spend up more. you almost don't hear him until he says your name and repeats himself. you move your head to look at him, and where his fingers are squelching in and out of your pussy.

"fuck— din.. I'm gonna come..." you rasp out. "I know.. let go." and that's all it takes. your back falls against your bed as white fills your vision. your breathing starts to regulate again, and din removes his fingers from you. he stares at the shine that coats his fingers, proud.

you muster up enough strength to sit up again slowly, taking his hand and moving his fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

"fuck.." it comes out quietly from his modulator. twinge, twinge, twinge. he moves his free hand to brush your hair away from your face, looking at the glow that adorns your face.

"I need you." you whine, hands moving to his belt and feverishly unbuckling it, dropping his belt to the side. he strips himself from his armour and flight suit, leaving him in only his boxers and helmet.

you soak in the sight. it was even better than what you had imagined at night while you touched yourself quietly, that started after week 4. he's tanned, with a thin layer of hair splaying across his chest. he's muscular too, which explains his impeccable strength. you move further up the bed, and he follows. he palms at your sides while you get comfortable amongst the pillows.

your hands trail down his chest, lower, and lower. both of your breathing is picking up again, his helmet inches from your face. he presses it against your forehead, "please.." it's his turn to beg now. you take your hand to his crotch and palm him through the fabric of his pants. he moans quietly, and lowly while you do. after a few moments, he moves your hand away and pins it next to your head. "I can't wait any longer, been waiting too long for this, fuck..."

you lick your lips in anticipation, and spread wider for him. remnants of your previous orgasm coating your thighs and dripping onto the sheets below. din pulls his boxers down and tosses them away, then he takes himself in his hand. he's thick. thicker than you had imagined. you're almost afraid he won't fit. "I'll take this slow, okay?" he assures you, brushing your hair back once more. you nod.

"I want you to tell me if you want me to stop." he continues. you nod again— "say it." he almost demands. "I'll tell you if I want you to stop." you confirm, resting your hands on his biceps and squeezing slightly to reassure him.

he nods before lining himself up with your entrance, and pushing in slowly. you both moan in unison. the burn makes your eyes water, but once he bottoms out, you moan again. he stills, waiting for you to ebb him on. you adjust your posture to take him better and squeeze his bicep again. a silent you can move. he starts slowly, pulling out carefully, before sinking back into your warm, tight cunt. he moans again as he bottoms out for a second time.

"I want to kiss you." you breathe out. you don't know what he'll say, you're afraid he'll pull out and leave.

he leans across to the lamp next to your bed, and dims it. his other hand still holding yours. you can barely see him, just a side profile. you hear the click of his helmet coming off, and the bed dipping down next to you where he's placed his helmet. you can feel his breath, warm and strong, as he inches closer. you raise your hand from his bicep to his face, cupping his cheek like he did to you so many times before. then, he kisses you. pang, twinge, butterflies.

it's soft and slow, he parts your lips with his tongue, and you happily oblige. his tongue swirls around yours, and he makes sure to remember every detail. the warmth, the way you suck in breath through your nose so sharply. he deepens it with a newfound urgency, and thrusts deep into you, much faster this time. you moan into him and return the deepening of the kiss.

he pulls out, then thrusts fast and deep. again, and again, and again. your back arches off of the bed, pulling him in closer. your chests touching with the rise and fall of your breathing. he bites your lip, and you swear you can feel him smile. he moves his mouth from yours to your cheek, then your ear, your jaw, your neck, and finally your collarbone. nipping and sucking at the skin there— and it sets your skin on fire. every sensation is heightened.

thrust, thrust, thrust. he's picking up his pace now, and the coil in your belly is pulling tighter again. you moan, and your free hand finds his hair, soft and slightly curly, tugging and pulling at it. he moans into the skin of your neck, releasing your hand from his and moving it to your clit, circling it with a needy pace. your moans are more frequent, more whiney. your breasts bounce back and forth softly with each of his thrusts. he takes his other hand and grabs at anything he can. your waist, hip, thigh, ass, tits. he lets them linger there, taking your nipple between his fingers and twisting and pinching at it.

his hand trails further up your body, and he palms at your upper chest— your collarbones, pushing into them gently. then further up, until he meets your neck, and he wraps his hand loosely around it, squeezing gently.

you swear you could've come right then and there. your moans are becoming pornographic, in time with his thrusts. his are lower, more like a grunt. he takes his hand away from your neck and hikes your leg up higher, over his shoulder, hitting that spongy spot inside you, over, and over again.

your head thrashes back into the pillows and you let out a low, guttural moan, cursing and chanting his name, along with a string of 'yes, yes, yes,' and 'just like that�� oh fuck..". your own name falling out of his mouth like a hymn against your skin, right next to your ear. his moans are loud and clear now, and it only pushes you further over the edge.

he takes your other leg and tosses it over his shoulder, quickening his pace. the sounds that fill the room are sinful, the squelching of him pistoning in and out of you, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, all coming together in a sweet symphony. he memorises it. every breath, every whine, every moan, every time you squeeze his cock. twinge, twinge, twinge.

"fuck— I'm, close, din" you whine, one hand coming to your clit as you circle it at a violent pace, the other back too his hair. pulling and tugging to ebb him on, and oh does he obey. pushing your legs back against your chest, flush with your breasts, and he fucks into you hard, fast, and deep.

"fuck, fuck, fuck... maker. your little cunt is just made for me, cyar'ika.." he moans and whimpers. he actually whimpers. you swear then and there that you will never forget that sound, carved into your memory. his pace is feverish now, rocking your body back and forth, knocking the air out of your lungs almost. the band inside you is about to snap, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"cmon baby, come all over this dick.." he encourages. and that's all it takes, again. you're a moaning, withering mess beneath his large body. he doesn't stop, fucking you through your orgasm at the same pace. tears roll down the sides of your face from the overstimulation, and all of a sudden you have a newfound strength inside of you.

you flip through two of you over, and now he's under you. his back flush with the bed, and his arms clawing at your hips. "fuck—" he grunts out. the dim glow from the lamp illuminates you perfectly. the glow of your slick, sweat covered skin, the way your hair reflects the light. your hands come to his chest so you can brace yourself. "your turn." you breathe, and he let's you. he let's you take over. then— he stops you. "wait. I have an idea."

you stop your movements, him still buried to the hilt inside of you. he picks up his helmet next to him and sets it to the blackout setting on the visor, and then puts it on you. it smells like him, you think to yourself. your senses are almost heightened from him taking away your sight, and you feel him move beneath you as he turns the light back up. "I wanna see you put on a show, cyar'ika." he rubs his hands up and down your sides encouragingly. from his view, he swears he could die like this and not have any complaints.

he can see your body fully now. beautiful and full atop of him. he palms at your ass again. you take that as a hint to move.

you rock back and forth against him slowly, your clit bumping into your pelvis with each movement. your moans are free in the air now (or rather through the modulator of the helmet. his helmet), and you start to slowly raise yourself off of his cock, before slamming back down against him. his moans are praise enough for your efforts. you do it again, and again, and again, until you've got a nice pace set. his hands frantically move up and down your body. your sides, your ass, your thighs, he cups your breasts and watches them bounce up and down with each rise and fall on his cock. yeah, he can die happy now.

you take hold of his wrist, and guide him to your neck. he wraps his large, warm hand around it gently, and then squeezes the sides. you moan, and he swears it's the loudest, most satisfied noise he's ever heard in his life. he moves his hands to play with your breasts again, squeezing and grabbing at them sloppily. he pulls you closer so that he can take them in his mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair again.

you yank his head back, and he whimpers again.

"fuck— yes, yes, yes.." you chant. you tilt your frame back now, bracing your hands on his thighs behind you as you plunge up and down with a blinding speed now. he palms at your thighs, and the moans and whimpers are falling endlessly past his lips now. you throw your head back, picking up the pace as much as humanly possible. "just like that baby— just like that." he praises, his own head falling heavy into the pillows beneath him.

he twitches inside of you, and you can tell he's close— you are too. just a few more thrusts, and you're there.

"shit, where do you want it?" he suddenly rasps. your pace doesn't falter. "inside. want you to spill into me." you breathe. he moans immediately, and twitches again. pang, pang, pang. twinge, twinge, twinge.

you bring yourself forward again and your hands are on his chest, he holds one of your elbows, and the other hand occupies your hip. then it happens. he comes, fast and hard, and deep. you follow soon after, still sloppily and slowly rocking back and forth against him.

din swears that's the closest he's felt to heaven. "shit—" he gasps. you collapse into his chest as the initial high comes down. he reaches back over to the lamp and dims in, before removing his helmet from your head. he brushes the hairs stuck to your skin with sweat away from your face, and he pulls your face towards his for another deep, rough kiss. you moan into him, hands finding his soft curls once again. he finally pulls away for breath, and you can feel the air between you being sucked in and breathed out, sharing oxygen.

you drop your head to rest next to his, still on top of him, him still buried to the hilt inside of you. you can feel his cock still pumping thick, warm come inside of you— coating every inch. it drips down out of your cunt and onto his pelvis, and your thigh. completely and utterly spent.

he gently strokes you, tracing shapes on the small of your back. the rhythm of his chest calming you.

"ni kar'tayl darasuum gar" I love you, you breath against his jaw and kiss him there. "this is the way", he replies. "I love you too." he kisses your temple, breathing in your scent. din pulls the covers over you, turning you both onto your sides, still comfortably buried in you. the shadow from your own face covers his, but you can see the colour of his eye that is illuminated. by the lamp. warm and brown. now your favourite colour in the galaxy. you memorise it, you don't know when you'll see it again.— your hands tracing every dip and curve of his face. he smiles against you and pulls you closer. you shift your leg up to trap him beneath it, and the movement makes him grunt again.

"keep doing that, and I might come again." he chuckles. you mirror him.

"we have plenty of time." you rub your nose against his, and the press your forehead to his.

you have no plans on fixing that hyperdrive anytime soon.

this was my first time writing smut, so I hope it was alright. lmk your thoughts in the notes!! like and reblog too maybe ;)))) — may write a pt2 if this does well??? ���👀

[lightreader1]

Fanfic idea- Yokai Au kitsune DazAtsu 

Note: This was inspired by @venelona 's recent Kitsune Dazai craze which I love dearly. Seriously so many people have been drawing cute DazAtsu art with Kitsune Dazai! It's hard to not be inspired by so much beautiful ship art! XD

Anyways back to my ramblings lol

--------------------------

Prompt: Dazai loves his human

Actual idea- 

(So for context this idea is placed in Edo Japan where humans hate Yokai and have a huge prejudice against anyone who they believe could be related to a yokai.)

Dazai is a 900 year old nine tailed Kitsune who is quite frankly bored with life, so of course he decides that he wants to end his life. 

He tries to suppress is power to the point he’s almost completely identical with a regular one tailed fox and jumps into a lake to drown. 

It was the perfect plan and his death would have been in a rather picturesque spot as well.

Well it would’ve been, except some young dumb human decided to interfere!

When he awakened from consciousness covered in bandages near a warm fireplace beside him he found a relatively young human male, with choppy silver hair and eyes that reminded him of a sunset. 

He was pale scrawny thing, bruised, and tired looking to boot.  

Honestly he was a rather pretty for a human, perhaps he had some demon heritage given his unique coloring? 

It piqued his interest slightly, and as he learned more about the human his interest grew.

He learned that Atsushi was a lone human who was recently banished from his former village. Apparently the human’s didn’t like the idea of someone with yokai heritage living among them so instead of outright murdering the guy they isolate him in some abandoned little hut in the middle of the mountains. 

But apart from his coloring and ability to heal himself Atsushi was as human as could be.

A lonely little human at that. 

Fun to tease and prank though.

Even before he learned that Dazai could talk he was always talking to him, petting his soft fur, and treating him so gently.

Honestly it was rather nice to be pampered by such a pretty human. 

Even when he played pranks on him or teased him Atsushi never truly got angry, he would sigh and complain but would always welcome Dazai with open arms. 

Perhaps it was the warm look in his eyes, the way the Atsushi would listen to his complaints with a soft understanding smile, or the absolute delight he would express whenever Dazai would bring him back a large chicken or rabbit but Dazai couldn’t help but grow attached.

At some point he found himself beginning to love his little hidden treasure. 

——————————————

Honestly I love the idea Atsushi just believing for the first few months that Dazai is just some mischievous fox that he saved from drowning in a river. 

Sure that little fox woke up hissing at him and trying to destroy literally everything Atsushi owned in his small ramshackle hut but over time his little friend warmed up to him. 

It helped his lonely existence to be able to talk to the little creature and the fox seemed to enjoy his company as well because at some point during the day the fox would just stay on his shoulders all nice and cozy around Atsushi’s neck while listening to him and chirping in his own two cents in there. 

It was peaceful and made Atsushi feel like he was not alone anymore.

---------------------------------------

Meanwhile at night while Atsushi is sleeping he gets territorial over his new little mountain home and sweet human. 

AKA: Dazai is kinda yandere feral when humans and Yokai wander too close to his and Atsushi’s hut.  

I’d like to think that some sort of rumor starts spreading around about how a powerful and cruel Yokai protects the mountain because it holds some sort of treasure or something.

But really its just Dazai acting like an overly possessive attention starved cat who will hiss and scratch at anyone who gets close to his favorite person one moment and the next will yowl and break every glass cup in the house until he gets the attention he believes is owed to him from said favorite person.

—————————

At some point Dazai decides to leave for a day or two to get some gifts for Atsushi but comes back to find their humble home getting ransacked and poor Atsushi being hurt (cause ya know what’s an edo anime without mountain bandits lol). 

And Dazai, Dazai goes a bit feral and exposes Atsushi to his true nine tailed form.

I imagine Dazai cradling Atsushi to himself while his tails swish aggressively as he growls at the perceived threat.

Cause how fucking dare those humans think they can steal from him! How dare they think they can hurt his human!

Meanwhile Atsushi feels a mixture of confusion, fear, indignation, and a small amount of relief. 

Confusion because apparently his pet fox is actually an incredibly powerful yokai who could’ve killed him at any point of time.

Fear because his pet fox yokai looks incredibly pissed and is staring at the robbers like he's about to tear them apart.

Indignation because he knew that fox was too smart to just be a fox! He was going crazy for months talking to what he believed to be a pet when instead he could have had full on conversations with incredibly hot fox man! When this was all over he was going to give Dazai an earful! 

And finally relief cause for as terrifying as Dazai looks right now, he’s holding him so gently~  

XD 

[halo-stylinson]

I often see antis claim that larries are projecting their fantasies onto the situation. As if watching two young people fall in love, only to be torn apart by powerful men in suits who are driven by money, is somehow a power trip. However, isn't that a bit too devastating to be considered a fantasy?

(sorry this took me so long to answer, i wanted to give a lengthy response and i havent had the energy till now)

(editing note: i got sooooo off topic from your original ask, i totally used this as an excuse to ramble)

i think there are larries who project their fantasies onto harry and louis, and i think part of that is natural with being a fan- you see other fans doing the same with projecting their fantasies onto louis and zara, to bring up a recent example. part of being a fan to this degree is filling in the blanks with educated guesses- or, sometimes, not-so-educated guesses. a lot of that can become wish fulfillment and headcanon, if you don't intentionally check yourself and keep the facts in line.

which isnt to say that projecting a fantasy or headcanon is always bad; id wager its usually harmless, to think of something positive as true with no evidence, about 2 people you dont personally know. in the long run, having that small personal truth in your heart isnt hurting anybody.

however, clarification aside, i do agree with your main point. larry's story isnt an easy one to live, and i cant imagine its always been fun to watch for the longtime fans who've had to see them forced into stunting, forced to stay in the closet, forced to do things that they dont want to do. i think a core thing ive noticed in larries is that we want harry and louis to be happy, supported, safe, and free. i dont think the average larrie behaves in a "power trip" sort of way.

however, i see a lot of solo fans and antis who act on power trips. recently, seeing the occasional solo louie acting holier-than-thou for believing the mcdumblinson slop. acting like they're "winning" fan-hood by believing what the media is telling them is true. being the "best" at louie-ing by licking the propaganda boots sparkly clean.

its concerning to watch sometimes, knowing that their feeling of superiority is based on the severity to which they are being a follower and refusing to critically think or question things. and that brings me to another point- there's this strange phenomenon ive noticed across my entire life (prior to being a larrie or directioner) of people feeling threatened by those who question the system. and because i think its relevant to the discussions around larry, im gonna explain what i mean:

the average everyday person has been groomed by society to obey the system and obey the media narrative they're being fed. the average person has been trained not to question authority, such as the tabloids, and has likely never attempted to unpack that blind follower behavior. this conditioned loyalty creates a sense of fear when others around them DO question things, like the media, or the government for example. they get defensive in an attempt to repair their blissfully ignorant peace, defensive of the system theyve been groomed into feeling loyal to.

i think most of the GP is capable of thinking critically, understanding the signs and clues when it comes to larry, but i think its a choice for most of them to stay ignorant to it and believe the media narrative. its more comfortable to simply obey. critical thinking, making a habit of questioning your information sources, are very intentional behaviors that society has done its best to minimize our utilization of in daily life. so of course, it feels difficult to start unpacking all of that, to start training your brain to pick up on propaganda, pick it apart, and find the truth within biased narratives.

so, many people simply choose not to do all that. but they still want to feel smart. we as a society have also been groomed into feeling like we need to "win" and be the "best" in every situation we can. capitalism, blah blah blah. so how can the average fan feel powerful and "better" than us larries without doing all the same mental work to understand the things we understand? well, they point to their precious media slop. "see? the dailymail said they're dating, and there's photos of them kissing, so it must be true! you're delusional for even questioning this!"

this technique;

- gives the willfully ignorant fan a sense of power and superiority over larries, without any of the hard mental work being done.

- discourages others from thinking critically. if everyone is just as ignorant as me, i wont feel so bad about it!

- whether consciously or unconsciously, it supports the system and helps it keep running. theres less need for people in power to police the GP's reaction when they're policing each other into the desired reaction.

there's a reason i bring up george orwell's 1984 a lot when discussing larries vs. antis or tabloid narratives in general. when i see surface level fans blindly believing one narrative, and then blindly believing the next contradicting narrative, simply because the tabloids they follow posted it, i immediately think of 1984; specifically the country they're meant to be warring against changing at random, and everyone simply... going along with it. "we were always fighting this country!" and despite knowing it's not true, most of the characters go along with it, because it's easier. it's what they've been conditioned to do since they were born into that system.

so, to try and tie this ramble back into your original ask; yeah. the truth is too devastating to be a fantasy. thats why its so much easier for the average fan to dismiss it as fantasy- if its fantasy, or conspiracy, they dont have to unpack the weight of just how fucked up the music industry is and how horribly their favourite artists have been treated. those truths are uncomfortable, and as we know, people in today's society don't like being uncomfortable. they're dangerously averse to it.

[zshiftsrealities]

zshiftsrealities ✦ introduction

❛ hi, hello, welcome !

i'm z ✦ ‘07 — sept ✦ intj ✦ south–asian

꒰ ... and this is a documentation blog of my experiences with reality shifting, lucid dreaming, manifesting, and (newly added) astral projection ... ꒱

₊ ꒱ likes & interests — ★

anime, kdramas, highschool life (as depicted in media), summers, spring, red, rain, quiet evenings, starry skies, moon, black, cats, sleeping, comfortable silence, lively environments, friends, before dawn, ocean, clouds, trees, night outs, nature, tea, late night conversations, dreaming, the blue sky.

⌗ journey towards eternity ❝

꒰ i. 𖦹˙— reality shifting ✧

first found out about shifting in 2021 through youtube and tiktok ⋮ actually started attempting shifting since nov-dec 2024 ⋮ made more progress these 4 months being on tumblr than the whole of 4 years of having known shifting.

(mini) shifts ✦ first ⋮ second ⋮ third

꒰ ii. 𖦹˙— manifestation ✧

found out about subliminals and manifestation same year, just a bit earlier than shifting ⋮ had many results from subliminals, some even lasting to this day ⋮ got into loa after joining tumblr ⋮ recently manifested many things (small achievements, but a win is a win)

꒰ iii. 𖦹˙— lucid dreaming ✧

lucid dreamed once years ago and then forgot about it ⋮ came back to me on a random morning in december 2024 ⋮ lucid dreamed many times since then.

꒰ iv. 𖦹˙— astral projection ✧

wasn't ever really interested in astral projection ⋮ heard its unsafe (misinfo btw) so decided to just leave it as is ⋮ astral projected on accident recently, and am planning to look into it now :)

astral ✦ experience

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ’s realities .ᐟ

very few realities that i've put thought into and scripted. will add the links as I post.

‧₊ ⌗ my hero academia ── ⋆.˚✧ main dr ꒱

.ᐟ intro |

๑ moodboards | drself ✦ s/o ✦ friendgroup

‧₊ ⌗ jujutsu kaisen

.ᐟ intro |

๑ moodboards |

‧₊ ⌗ miraculous ladybug

.ᐟ intro |

๑ moodboards |

⟡ others ⋮ demon slayer dr, kdrama drs, multiple au’s for mha dr and jjk dr etc etc

ᵎᵎ ❛ dni if — x

! basic dni criteria + anti-shifter, disrespect people's choices / preferences / beliefs etc etc, force your ideologies onto others, islamophobic, pro-isnotreal / anti-palestine, entitled for whatever the reason might be, rude and hateful in general.

... you get the idea. I don't want weird people on here so just don't interact if you are one.

! don't care if you do or don't support race-changing. I race change, and if that doesn't sit well with you, you're free to leave.

— ❞ ⌗ tags ¿ ?

⋆˙⟡ customized tags : for navigation, and because it's fun to have them >_<

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 talks ✦ random thoughts

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 rants ✦ rants (if I do ever)

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 reblogs ✦ my reblogs

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ’s drs ! ✦ when I talk about my drs

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ’s moots ! ✦ wherever I interact with my mutuals !!

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ’s successes ! ✦ success stories (manifestations / shifts / lucid dreams / astral projection)

⌗ ⋮ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ’s shooting stars ! ✦ answered asks

© zshiftsrealities, 2025 all rights reserved.

[neurodivergent-catlover]

"I wish i could be nonverbal it would be so peaceful"

I promise you it wont feel peaceful when you need to call an ambulance

when your in a situation with police

when there's a fire, when you need help, when you are stuck,

when you need to call literally anyone to do basic life things

when you need to answer the door

when you need to buy something from a shop

when you need to have a conversation

when you need to get a job

when you need to participate in school

when you need to do basic life things that involve speech but that never crosses your mind because you have the privilege of speech

Stop saying you wish you could be nonverbal, you dont know what you are wishing for

[THIS IS ABOUT BEING NONVERBAL, NOT ABOUT VERBAL SHUTDOWNS. "Going nonverbal" does not exist. You are having a verbal shutdown. Which is fundamentally a different experience than being nonverbal.]

[artuurle]

I don't have a silly cheeky comment for this one besides it leans heavily on my headcanons and stuff on Grujaja. (that's how you know ur in the tranches for a character.)

^face of a guy that keeps hurtin his bonds w anyone close to him. Bonus doodles i made while drawing this that are semi related due to being tied to my Gr headcanons unda the cut lol:

[lupismaris]

There is nothing so affirming and life saving as leaving home and being loved at face value by total strangers for who you are

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

what if i-

best friend clears her whole schedule before she even reads where

-Love is your second nature, love is your language. Love! or whatever that one uquiz said about me

[ishq-itar]

<3

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

play with fire by the rolling stones is my roman empire tbh

[todayisafridaynight]

LIKEWISE I hope you enjoy the upcoming releases too and that the price tag on Gaiden's worth it! I know personally I'll enjoy them regardless lol, the worldwide releases have been Particularly Rough on localization but these have still been some of my favorite games. Sorry in advance for I will be the one saying unnecessary things (as I often am) though </3

Speaking of, I'm glad you're enjoying Kyouen!! Once Again I wish I didn't have Goldfish Memory so I could actually discuss but :) always look forward to your reviews :)

i wouldnt ever say anythin you say is unnecessary when you always have a lot of insight and purpose to what you say ♪(´▽｀)

AND YAYA im really enjoyin kyouen ! you were absolutely right in everyone being petty as hell LMAO im living for it tho (￣y▽￣)