#they capture masculine characters so well

[bones4thecats]

┗ A Star's Shield; Starscream × F! S/O ┛

Characters: Starscream (Transformers One) A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, though I do believe it could have been better, I do think it turned out pretty good. Anyways, sorry for the long wait for this. Enjoy <3 Trigger Warnings for: Kidnapping, corrupt government, assault, unwanted advances. Sentinel is just his own trigger warning at this point. ⇘ Summary: After being captured by Airachnid and the Cybertronian Government, you were thrown into a room with the rest of your captured High Guard members and two miner bots. As you were handed over to Sentinel Prime by his right-hand, you notice your sparkmate, Starscream, watching you in an attempt to keep you and himself calm. But, when Sentinel begins to speak, not even B-127 could keep himself calm. Italic words = past memories

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💫 A cozy set of rays from the sun began to cover Cybertron. Another day, another restless amount of hours trying to sabotage Sentinel Prime beyond what his reputation could save.

💫 The steps of a seeker made you look up from the surface floor of your base's exteriors. There, walking up to you, was Starscream. He had been leading your guard, the High Guard, for so long that you could hardly keep count, and that says a lot.

💫 Starscream looked at you and nodded. You responded the same as you looked back outside. It was hard to see without expert optics, but, far out in the distance, was Iacon City. Your optics narrowed as memories you once made there popped up. Anyone who understood your real self knew why that bothered you so much.

"I heard from Wreckwave that the Iacon 5000 is happening tomorrow." Starscream said.

"I did too. Why does it matter? Are we planning something big during it or something?" You questioned back.

"No. Though, it would be of expert insight that at least some-bot goes there to check on how the city is holding together after all this time."

💫 His optics slightly shut as he chuckled. He then lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he laid his helm on top of your own. As seekers, you were both fairly tall, though, you were just about a head shorter than the masculine one next to you. Fortunate for him, unfortunate for your short self.

"Let me guess, Scream'. You want me to go down there with you?"

"I knew your processor would lock in sooner rather than later!" He smiled.

"And, what happens if, I don't know- a member of the guard sees us snooping around? You know that Sentinel and the High Guard aren't exactly friends, and most definitely not close to frenemies."

"That's the thing. I have spoken with Shockwave, and he has a device that shall last for, around a third of a cycle. Are you in or out, my dearest Y/N?"

"Is that even a question?"

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

💫 Your optics went online as you groaned, pain covering the back of your helm as you looked around. You reached up and felt the back of your helmet, and once you felt the liquid, you froze in fear. You remembered what happened now.

💫 It was when those four bots were brought to your base. A blue and red one, a grey one with a Megatronus Prime sticker on his shoulder, another with a yellow-colored frame, and the only feminine one, whom was colored pink with some white here and there.

💫 They, well, the red and blue one at least, proposed that they were on the same side as you. They wanted to reveal Sentinel Prime as the traitor to Cybertron that he was. And honestly? You thought it was a pretty good deal. Starscream on the other hand? His own beliefs clouded his judgement of the four.

💫 When the grey one, whom the blue and red one called D, tried to walk out of the base to locate Cybertron's leader to punish himself, Starscream obviously was taking a hit to his own ego. Shocker.

💫 As he was chocked to the point that his voice-box was beginning to be crushed, making what was once a smooth and slightly-raspy voice begin to go from pitch to pitch with a highly artificial tang being added on top of it all. You had been able to slightly alter it, bringing the pitches down slightly, but fixing it fully was beyond anyone's abilities.

💫 While your memories came back, a dark figure stepped inside with golden-Cybertronians following suite. You looked up towards the helms of these people and scoffed. You recognized the tallest one. It was Airachnid. The heap of scrap that was somehow still alive well without any scratches. How disappointing.

"Get her up. I'm sure he's going to be very pleased to see his favorite old friend here." She said, grazing underneath your chin with one of her elongated insect-legs.

"Good to see you as well, Airachnid." You said.

💫 Airachnid rolled her optics and began walking away, a guard at both sides of you as you followed. Unwilling was one word to describe the entire journey through the tower's halls. Until you found Starscream and got the others out to safety, you needed to keep these fearful thoughts of yours out of sight and out of mind.

💫 Sentinel looked at a statue and glared, those Primes that tried holding the planet back from compromise. He did the right thing. Of course he did, how could his judgement be bad?

💫 The Prime looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow, wondering why Airachnid was bringing in some random seeker. So, in his true, straight-forward nature, asked the insect-themed Cybertronian about this.

"I'm sure you'll love to find out who this is."

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the point."

💫 The mask that covered most of your helm released pressure as it was unlocked by a guard. You grimaced as light hit you all of a sudden, seriously, a warning would be amazing sometimes.

"It can't be. Y/N?"

"...Y/N?"

💫 Sentinel's optics were wide as he stepped up to look closely at you. It just couldn't be you. There was no way in the name of the 13 Primes that you were alive and standing right before him.

"I almost forgot just how beautiful you were. Though, you looked better on the ground, kneeling before me." Sentinel smirked before allowing his hand to drift across your face, to your shoulder, and down to your sides. "Go ahead and undo her cuffs. I'm sure she won't claw me without orders."

"Are you sure, Sir?" A guard asked.

"Completely."

💫 Your brows furrowed as you glared at him. The clicks of your cuffs coming undone hit everyone's sound-receptors, and before anyone realized it, you had launched yourself at Sentinel, grabbing one of his wings and tugging on it to draw some sort of pain.

💫 Sentinel just glared and wrapped a servo around your neck, lifted you up in the air and chuckled darkly. Everyone, including the guards, shivered as he crushed your neck slowly and delicately, almost as if he was enjoying this pain he was drawing out of you.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

💫 Crash.

"Y/N!" B-127 yelled.

💫 You yelped as your back made contact with the nearby wall. The pain that overtook your system was immediate, and it only worsened as a guard picked you up and threw you back at Sentinel to keep torturing.

💫 His servo wrapped around your neck once again, this time from behind as he held you flush against his front. Sentinel smirked and wrapped his opposite roam around your waist as you struggled to free yourself.

"You know, if you had just stayed by my side we could've been the perfect duo. Leading Cybertron into the future."

"Like hell I would've-" A gasp came out as his grasp on your vocal cords tightened.

"Had the most perfect model family unit. Two young sparklings filled with potential. Little Quartermaster and Artillery. Sounds just right, wouldn't you agree, lovely?"

"Get your servos off of her!" Starscream yelled.

"Oh?" Sentinel hummed. "I forgot just how dear you two held one another. Almost as if you were together for eons before I met you."

"We were, and still are! So, I will warn you one more time, Sentinel. Get your energon-stained servos off of my sparkmate!"

💫 Sentinel rolled his optics and latched another pair of cuffs on you, securing your violent impulses. He got near your sound-receptors once again and said quietly;

"To bad your love for that pitchy seeker kept that future out of my grasp."

💫 Starscream kneeled back down as you were thrown in front of him, dents in your frame as he looked you over. Fear was in his optics as he looked you over. And, as Sentinel moved onto D-16, Starscream paid attention to you, keeping the guards and Airachnid away from your frame. No more pain was going to come to you while he stood beside you.

💫 But, unknowingly to you both, that future was soon to be completely changed.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

"There is no way that Starscream yelled at Sentinel Prime!" Blitzwing said.

💫 You smiled at the bot holding two sparklings in his lap, acting like the older brother figure that he was for them as they've aged.

"Well, believe it or don't, I know for sure that he did." You said, turning around to look at the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons as he planned with Megatron the next move in the war.

"And I'm thankful every passing moment that he was there for me..."

[ugh-my-back]

Got a comm gift for a pal from my fave artist rooji & ofc I had to get myself one too

beloved @drunkchasind 's Devon & my Damien ♡♡

[weirdkpopgirl]

Sulky | Jeno Imagine #12

Title: Sulky

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mildly suggestive, a little making out towards the end

Word Count: 952

Author's Note: Alright, I know I literally just posted something for Jeno a few days ago. But this idea was just living rent free in my mind, and I just couldn't resist writing it. I know you guys like this stuff too, so I thought writing this couldn't hurt. I'm Jaemin biased, but Jeno is just so cute especially when he's sulky. Anyway hope you guys like it ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Jeno got sulky easily. When you two first started seeing each other, you found it quite funny how things could so easily hurt such a tough, masculine guy. Of course, you’re usually able to provide him with enough reassurance to make him a smiley puppy again. Teasing your partner was never in your nature. But you’d occasionally step out of character just because Jeno’s reactions were hilarious.

The two of you were lounging on the couch in his apartment’s living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You paused when you came across some photos from his recent concert. While you admired how fiercely handsome your boyfriend looked on stage, another member unintentionally caught your eye.

“Wah, Jaemin looks amazing in that stage outfit,” you remarked, showing him the picture. “I can’t imagine all the screams from fans when they saw his abs.”

Jeno glanced at the photo and shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I mean, it’s nothing new. Everyone knows Jaemin works out, so I don’t think that many people were surprised.”

At first, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s lack of interest in the subject, too preoccupied with scrolling through more photos of his attractive member. In fact, you found his comment a bit hard to believe.

“No, but the lighting from the stage makes you see how perfectly defined and sculpted his abs are!” you said in awe, as you came across a close-up picture that a fan had taken.

Your boyfriend’s grip tightened on his phone, and he shot you a sideways glance. To him, it was almost as if you had forgotten he was sitting right beside her. 

“My stage outfit showed my abs too, you know,” he muttered.

The hint of sulkiness in his voice was something you caught immediately, and that's when you realized he was jealous. Although it wasn’t your intention to make him feel this way, you couldn’t help but find the pout on his lips adorable. Deciding to push his limits just a little, you feigned obliviousness to his growing discomfort over your sudden interest in Jaemin.

Leaning back on the couch, you sighed. “Well yeah, but I’ve already seen your abs plenty of times. Not that I find them boring now, but…”

Jeno’s pout deepened and he whined softly, his jealousy now clearly evident. You bit your lip, stifling a laugh because he was just so endearing like this. However, your innocent teasing soon backfired. 

Determined to make his point, he sat up and lifted his shirt, revealing his own well-defined abs, a testament to his consistent workouts. Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his firm stomach with an intense gaze.

“Tell me, who do you prefer,” he demanded in a dark yet calm voice. “Jaemin or me?”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your breath slightly hitched at the sudden contact. Feeling the ridge of his muscles beneath your fingers quickly brought out your instinctive shyness. You rarely saw this possessive side of Jeno.

“Jeno…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You searched your brain for something to say, but you were too flustered to find the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” he interrupted, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Before you could pull away, Jeno leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone. As the moments passed and his lips showed no signs of moving, you closed your eyes and gently placed your hand under his jaw. One of his hands was already on your waist and as he felt you kiss back, he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss with a tender urgency. 

His lips moved against yours hungrily, the only sound of the room the soft smacking of kisses. The kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring with a slow, deliberate intensity. Your lips molded together, warm and yielding, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. The subtle, rhythmic movement of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but respond with equal fervor.

When you finally parted, you needed a moment to catch your breath. Jeno’s gaze remained fixed on you, silently seeking reassurance, his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course I prefer you,” you replied, looking at him as if the answer were obvious. “Jaemin’s visuals might be impressive, but you know I only have eyes for you.”

Jeno’s grin widened, and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back to your previous cuddling position. “Good,” he said, sinking comfortably into the couch cushions with you.

Soon after, his tone turned playful yet still a bit possessive. “But I’m still putting you on a Na Jaemin ban from now on.”

The lingering sulkiness in his comment made you want to roll your eyes. But instead, you laughed and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You knew that protesting would be useless, and he’d get over it eventually.

Yet, you also knew that what you and Jeno had was unbreakable. With how much you two loved each other, you were inseparable, no matter how sulky he got.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[favefandomimagines]

Thunderstruck (t.o)

Request: @mystargirl-interlude after watching the Dallas cowboy cheerleader show I can’t stop thinking about Tyler dating a Dallas cowboys cheerleader 😭😭 I was wondering if you could do like a one shot of his group meeting her and going to one of the games to see her preform?

AN: I love this request lol i love making masculine characters total simps for their partners

Tyler Owens had always been obsessed with two things: tornadoes and the Dallas Cowboys. His obsession with storms began when he was a kid, watching funnel clouds twist and churn on the horizon from his small Oklahoma town.

The Cowboys, well, that love ran just as deep. Sundays were sacred, filled with the sounds of the game on TV and a house full of cheering and yelling at plays. But as much as he loved football, there was one thing—or rather, one person—that had stolen his heart even more completely than any touchdown or tornado ever could.

His long-term girlfriend was a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. It still felt surreal sometimes, like a dream he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around.

To see her out there, all eyes on her as she performed at the center of AT&T Stadium, was almost too much for him to handle. Tyler had met Jenna before she ever wore the blue and silver of the Cowboys’ iconic uniform, but knowing she was out there, dazzling crowds of thousands, was more than he ever imagined.

Tyler and his team of tornado chasers—Boone, Javi, Kate, Lily, Dani, and Dexter—had made a name for themselves online. Their YouTube channel, which documented their daring storm-chasing adventures, had gone viral several times over, gaining them a massive following.

There was something undeniably thrilling about watching them race against nature, capturing footage of tornadoes as they tore through the plains. The adrenaline rush was unmatched, though for Tyler, it still couldn’t compare to watching Jenna perform on the field.

When the Cowboys organization reached out to invite the whole team to the season opener, it felt like a dream come true. Not only were they being recognized for their storm-chasing success, but it was an opportunity for Tyler to see Y/N in her element, doing what she loved most.

The day of the season opener was electric. Tyler and the team arrived early at AT&T Stadium, their excitement palpable. Tyler had a permanent grin on his face, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. Sure, they had been invited because of their growing fame, but for him, this day was about Y/N.

“You’re about to lose it, aren’t you?” Boone teased as they walked through the stadium's hallways toward the cheerleaders’ locker room.

Tyler shot him a look. “I’m fine,” he said, though the nervous energy in his voice betrayed him. “I’m just…excited to see Y/N.”

Javi chuckled. “Dude, you’re not just excited. You’re a total fanboy for the Cowboys. Admit it.”

Tyler shrugged, unable to hide the truth. “I’ve been a Cowboys fan since I could walk. This is huge for me. But yeah, seeing Y/N is the real reason I’m here.”

When they reached the cheerleaders’ locker room, Tyler’s heart raced. He knocked, and after a few seconds, the door opened, revealing Y/N, looking absolutely stunning in her Cowboys cheer uniform. Her smile lit up the room when she saw him.

“Tyler!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing into his arms. He scooped her up, spinning her around like he always did.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice soft with admiration. “I mean, you always do, but wow.”

Y/N blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re biased, but thank you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

The rest of the team gave them their space, letting Tyler soak up the moment with Y/N. Boone, ever the jokester, leaned over to Javi. “I give it five minutes before he cries,” he whispered, earning a chuckle from the others.

Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N. The excitement for the game seemed secondary now. It was all about her. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” he said, his voice genuine. “I mean, look at you. You’re living your dream.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes full of affection. “And you’re living yours too. Storm-chasing with your team and now being here with me? I’d say you’re doing pretty great.”

After a few more minutes of talking and catching up, Y/N had to get back to her pre-game routine. Tyler reluctantly left the locker room, but not before giving her a lingering kiss on the cheek. His heart felt full, and his mind raced with anticipation for the game. He couldn’t wait to see her out there, performing in front of the massive crowd.

When game time finally arrived, the stadium was alive with energy. The stands were packed with tens of thousands of fans, all buzzing with excitement for the Cowboys’ season opener. Tyler and his team had incredible seats near the field, thanks to the Cowboys’ invitation.

The moment the Cowboys’ cheerleaders took the field for their pre-game Thunderstruck performance, Tyler couldn’t help but get caught up in the moment.

As the music blasted through the stadium speakers, and Jenna and the other cheerleaders began their routine, Tyler was on his feet, clapping and cheering louder than anyone around him. His eyes were locked on Y/N, watching every move she made. She was radiant, her movements precise and graceful, her energy infectious. Tyler was completely captivated.

“Look at him,” Dani laughed, nudging Kate. “He’s so smitten.”

“He’s head over heels,” Kate agreed, shaking her head with a grin.

Tyler barely noticed his friends teasing him. His entire world was focused on Y/N, and he couldn’t help but feel overwhelming pride. He had always supported her dreams, but seeing them come to life on such a grand stage filled him with a sense of awe.

“She’s killing it!” Tyler yelled over the roar of the crowd, his voice filled with admiration. When the routine ended, he was the first to jump up and applaud, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s my girl!”

The game was incredible, a nail-biter that had the crowd on edge, but Tyler’s thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. It was surreal to be in the stadium, watching his favorite team play, knowing that his girlfriend was one of the cheerleaders who had worked so hard to be part of this iconic experience.

After the game, Tyler and his team waited outside the cheerleaders’ locker room again, this time with a surprise in store. When Y/N emerged, looking radiant despite the exhaustion of a long game, Tyler couldn’t contain himself.

“You were amazing, Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you, babe. It means the world to me that you were here.”

Tyler hesitated for a moment, then grinned as he reached for the hem of his Cowboys jersey. “I have something to show you,” he said, pulling the jersey over his head to reveal a custom-made t-shirt underneath.

Y/N gasped when she saw it. Printed across the front of the shirt was her picture—Y/N in her cheerleader uniform, mid-performance, with the words “I’m here for her” emblazoned beneath it.

“I had to make sure everyone knew who I was really here to see,” Tyler said with a playful smile.

Y/N’s laughter filled the hallway, her face lighting up as she stared at the shirt. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tyler replied, pulling her closer. “You’re a superstar, Y/N. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

The rest of the team couldn’t help but watch the sweet moment unfold, a mix of admiration and amusement on their faces.

“Well, I guess we know who the real MVP is,” Dexter joked, gesturing to Y/N.

“Hey, I’ll take it,” Y/N said with a wink. “But seriously, Tyler, you being here today… it means everything to me.”

Tyler kissed her again, a sense of peace and happiness settling over him. Tornadoes would always be his first love, but standing there with Y/N, his heart bursting with pride and admiration, he knew there was nothing that could top this.

[lurkingshan]

Things I Can't Stop Thinking About in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

My friends, we are in for a world of pain, Hwang Da Seul style, and I could not be more excited for her to hurt me. Her shows are always so beautiful and evocative and layered with deep emotion, and this one is no different. Here are some things that stood out to me from the first two episodes.

This show is giving us a classic character dynamic that Korea in particular seems to love: the persistent sunshine boy masking pain who insists on getting close to the closed off grump whose pain is right there on the surface for anyone who cares to look. I loved them both, as individual characters and as a pair, instantly.

Our tale appears to be taking place around about the mid-2000s, based on the technology, music, and drama references in these first couple episodes (h/t @dropthedemiurge). Both the main characters are serving as narrators of different parts of the story, and they seem to be looking back on this time from the future.

Juyeong captured my heart as soon as he started dancing with himself in the middle of the street, and my interest and investment in him only grew as we got more pieces of his backstory. The implication is clear that his sexuality is the reason for the fracture with his Christian pastor mother and why he was sent to this town to be "set straight" by an abusive coach. But he’s still in touch with her, speaking on the phone every day and promising he’s being good, even as he gives in to his desires (but not before removing his crucifix). He's a filial son who seems to be harboring a lot of guilt for disappointing her, and this whole situation feels very akin to being sent away for conversion therapy (and now I'm thinking about Love in the Big City again).

Dohoe feels all around more jaded than Juyeong, which is perfectly understandable given he was abandoned by his mother and left to live with an abuser in this town he hates. Not only is he putting up with constant beatings from his father, he is suffering bullying at school from a boy who used to be his friend until things got a little too gay between them. Anyone who had been hurt by as many loved ones as he had would be justified in trusting no one, so it's telling that he let Juyeong in as quickly as he did. Dohoe radiates loneliness and he was dying for someone to see him.

It feels notable to me that both Dohoe and Juyeong came to this connection knowing they were gay and having already had bad experiences because of it. It's rare that we get two characters in a bl romance who both Know (h/t @bengiyo).

The romance in this show is so well written, I was already screaming into my pillow within two episodes. I tell ya, nobody delivers romance writing like Korea when they decide to be serious. The little ways Juyeong and Dohoe see each other, the way they pay attention and notice each other's mood and health, the way they go out of their way to bring each other a bit of happiness. Dohoe's journey to secure Juyeong's weird ice cream! Juyeong making snow for Dohoe (snow is one of THE biggest signifiers of love in kdrama language)! And on top of that, they communicate with each other. As soon as it's clear their attraction is mutual, they start talking about it. They confess (Dohoe in a more tortured manner, and then Juyeong after removing the symbol of his mother's oppression). They discuss where in this damn town they can safely make out with each other, and go do that! Perfection.

The tone of this show is also pitch perfect. The dojo and taekwondo scenes, along with the presence of Dohoe's father, root us in a kind of toxic masculinity that feels stifling. We feel transported back in time, in a setting where the accents and scenery are different from the usual drama fare, in a place where Dohoe and Juyeong don't fit in but also can't escape. Every moment feels anchored in both a warm nostalgia and a cold dread, because we can feel something bad coming even as Dohoe and Juyeong experience moments of happiness together.

Hyeonho is an interesting character. In some ways, he's very stereotypical: the bully who is battling his own internalized homophobia by punishing the ones he likes, and is now even more activated by his jealousy. But I do find it notable that he seems unwilling to let Dohoe get too hurt. He won't beat him himself and instead gets his little gang of thugs to do it for him, and he also stepped in (literally, he put his foot between Dohoe's head and the pavement) to make sure Dohoe didn't get irreparably injured. I'm not sure what to make of him just yet.

The references are everywhere in this show! HDS loves to reference both her own works (especially Where Your Eyes Linger and To My Star 2 in these first episodes) and other classic kdramas, along with making ample use of remixed versions of common kdrama romance tropes. It would probably be impossible to catch them all on a first viewing (a great excuse to rewatch).

Sending a plea to the universe and @troubled-mind to deliver the music on this soundtrack to me; it was so beautiful and perfectly used in these first two episodes.

[youremyheaven]

Jupiter's Boundlessness: The Union of Good & Evil

Something I have noticed for a long time is how Jupiter natives often play multiple roles within a single project. Be it movies or music videos, I often see them channelling the boundlessness of Jupiter by literally embodying several characters. As Claire Nakti explored in her Jupiter makeover video, duality and transformation are huge themes in the lives of Jupiter natives. This duality is not just a light vs dark one but also a masculine versus feminine one. Jupiter women especially being internally masculine often channel this in different ways. But beyond the "duality" is the "multiplicity", because of their vast, internal spaciousness they feel as though they are many many different people with many different interests and abilities. This is why Jupiter natives are kind and generous because their vastness allows them to literally put themselves in the shoes of others but it can also feel very confusing and tiring. You stretch yourself that wide, you might snap, feel empty and burnt out because you feel so chained by being a very limited narrow definition of "you".

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

She plays both herself and her obsessive stalker (based on Eminem) in her MV for Obsessed

She fights the evil brunette version of herself in her MV for Heartbreaker

She also has an alter ego named Bianca who is the opposite of her and even speaks with a British accent lmao

Here is a clip of Mariah being interviewed by her alter ego Bianca

In fact, I'd say that having an alter ego is in itself kind of a Jupiterean experience since these natives embody duality or feel like they contain so many contradictory energies or that they're "opposites".

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon plays Miley and Hannah on Hannah Montana, a whole show that revolves around a girl trying to manage her alter ego.

Dua Lipa, Punarvasu Moon battles with her other self in her MV for IDGAF

Troye Sivan, Punarvasu Rising plays a female version of himself in the MV for his song One of Your Girls

Ruby Rose, Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising captures her transformation from a traditional feminine woman to her more butch androgynous self in Break Free

Destiny's Child's mv for Lose My Breath features the trio battling their alter egos. Beyonce- Vishaka Moon, Michelle- Punarvasu Moon and Kelly- Swati Rising

I'm including Swati placements as well because I think Swati also closely embodies this Jupiterean boundlessness or multiplicity

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon also has an alter ego named Sasha Fierce and like many Jupiter women who talk about wanting to be a man/embrace their masculinity/channel this in some way, she has a song called "If I Were A Boy"

Avril Lavigne, Swati Moon played multiple versions of herself in the MV for her song Girlfriend

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon and Swati stellium has such a wide ranging style, all their looks are completely unlike each other. I associate it with the chaos of Rahu more than Punarvasu but I do think the Jupiter influence also adds to it. They've also talked a lot about not identifying with gender/struggling with it and even has a song titled "I'm not a woman, I'm a god".

The Weeknd, Vishaka Moon, Punarvasu Rising

"The Weeknd" is the alter ego of Abel Tesfaye and he has talked about "killing his alter ego" many times

In this MV we see him battling his alter ego.

I think it's important to note that Jupiter natives are always battling their other half/shadow in all these examples. One is good and the other is bad. It points to the nature of Jupiter where all contradictions exist. Being that vast and expansive can mean being generous, compassionate etc but it can also mean feeling empty and vacuous. The extremes of anything is a meeting point for its opposite. Jupiter is abundance but its also the storehouse of karma. Do you notice how some people just have lives that are full of sooo many crazy experiences, both good and bad? Some people just don't have much going on and others always seem to be handled the short end of the stick. The bigger the planet, the bigger the shadow. The bigger the blessings, the bigger the burdens.

Suga's (Purvabhadrapada Sun) MV for Daechwita sees him play both king and peasant and both of them battle each other.

He also has multiple alter egos (SUGA & Agust D)

Here is a translation of some of the lyrics from the song:

"I got everything I wanted.  What else can I have to be satisfied?

The things I wanted were clothes clothes, then money money, then goal goal, what’s after this?

What’s after this?  Feeling a strong feeling of reality check, a situation where there’s nothing higher. 

I had only looked up, now I just wanna look down and gently land."

Finding success meaningless is a VERY Jupiter experience. Abel sings about it a lot as well. Others work on accumulating things and its hard for them to imagine the kind of boundlessness of Jupiter, both in terms of latent potential but also in terms of the scale and expanse of what these natives achieve. If you had it all, would you find it empty and meaningless? I think a lot of Jupiter natives hold themselves back because of this, because they know the journey is more fun than the destination, that actually achieving your goals can be hella scary.

P!nk, Mars in Punarvasu atmakaraka battles herself in the MV for Don't Let Me Get Me

The lyrics go like:

"I'm a hazard to myself

Don't let me get me

I'm my own worst enemy

It's bad when you annoy yourself

So irritating

Don't wanna be my friend no more

I wanna be somebody else

I wanna be somebody else, yeah"

"So doctor, doctor, won't you please prescribe me something?

A day in the life of someone else"

The Jupiterean urge to be many people/somebody else is so revealing of their nature. They're always at odds with each other. Masculine & Feminine. Light & Shadow. Plus the boundlessness and abundance of Jupiter making you feel like you've transcended humanity and are akin to God (sooo many Jupitereans, esp men have a God complex its not even funny lol)

Its no wonder that so many Jupiter women often suffer from bipolar disorder. Bipolarity meaning swinging between extremes. This is literally the nature of Jupiter. Its a hard energy to balance.

(Mariah Carey & Halsey- Punarvasu Moon both have bipolar disorder, Kanye West- Purvabhadrapada Moon also has bipolar disorder Chyler Leigh- Vishaka Moon, Mel Gibson- Punarvasu Rising are all celebs who have admitted to suffering from bipolar disorder)

I am not a medical professional and neither am I going to assign mental disorders to different nakshatras BUT when I say imbalanced Jupiter energy manifests as bipolarity, I am pointing to the nature of Jupiter which makes its natives swing between extremes. Its a struggle to manage this and navigate this, no doubt.

Lisa Kudrow, Punarvasu Rising who played Phoebe and her evil twin Ursula

What's Your Rashee? is a 2009 Bollywood movie starring Priyanka Chopra, Punarvasu Sun who plays 12 different characters each representing a different rashi or zodiac sign

Kamal Hassan, Purvabhadrapada Moon played 10 different characters in the movie Dhashavataram (referencing the ten different avatars of Vishnu). He played the bad guy, the good guy and all the other guys.

This again points to not just the duality but also the multiplicity of Jupiter and literally being many different people.

Katy Perry, Vishaka Moon plays many different characters in her MV for Birthday

Vikram, Purvabhadrapada Moon plays 4+ different characters in the movie "I"

David Bowie, Jupiter in Vishaka atmakaraka, Shatabhisha Rising

Bowie had sooo many alter egos/personas, morphing from the flame-haired Aladdin Sane — a spin on “A Lad Insane” — to the clean-cut Thin White Duke with the greatest of ease. But his most famous alter ego was the androgynous alien rock star Ziggy Stardust who transported us to a glam galaxy far, far away in 1972 and 1973.

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

"Lady Gaga" is in itself an alter ego as is being Mother Monster but she also has a male alter ego named Jo Calderone. She became Jo Calderone for her “You and I” video in 2011. The singer even went to the MTV VMAs that same year as Jo, walking the red carpet, opening the show, performing and sitting in the audience as the character.

The 1991 movie Dead Again stars Emma Thompson, Punarvasu Moon and Kenneth Branagh, Mars in Punarvasu 1h as two people who have double lives/past lives, the plot in itself is super Punarvasu coded with the same people playing multiple characters across multiple timelines (Punarvasu's deity is the personification of space and time)

Lily Tomlin, Punarvasu Rising plays 3 different characters in the movie The Incredible Shrinking Woman

Tatiana Maslany, Punarvasu Rising played many many different characters on the show Orphan Black.

The series focuses on Sarah Manning, one of several genetically identical human clones, and later on some of the other clones. The series raises issues about the moral and ethical implications of human cloning and its effect on identity. I had previously observed in an old post about how Punarvasu & Swati are connected to cloning and this is yet another example of the boundlessness of these energies.

Tom Cavanagh, Swati Sun, Venus in Vishaka atmakaraka played 15 different versions of his character in The Flash

Rachel Weisz, Purvabhadrapada Moon played both Evelyn and Princess Nefertiti in The Mummy Returns

Hugo Weaving, Punarvasu Moon, Purvabhadrapada Stellium (mercury, venus and ketu) played 6 different characters in Cloud Atlas

In Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, Alex Winter, Punarvasu Sun & Keanu Reeves, Punarvasu Moon play their evil versions.

The plot itself is very Punarvasu coded with Bill & Ted, two metalhead slacker friends who travel through time and beyond while trying to fulfil their destiny to establish a utopian society in the universe with their music.

Deepika Padukone, Swati Moon and Shahrukh Khan, Swati Sun played double roles as lovers who are reincarnated in a different time.

Jupiter is the guru or teacher. To be many things is what Jupiter teaches. It is kind of like being God and if one were to raise philosophical questions, you'd have to ask why did God create both good and evil? Why did he create joy and misery? There is no other answer except that one cannot exist without the other. Jupiter embodies this.

I hope this post shed some light on one manifestation of the boundlessness of Jupiter<33

xx

[puckpocketed]

i just hate when players do this and people call them “warriors” i know you wanna play in the playoffs to help your team but YOUR FINGERS ARE LITERALLY BROKEN MY GUY THEY COULD NEVER GROW BACK TOGETHER THE RIGHT WAY im crying

my poor cringefail wifes i love them all so much i hope they all take the rest they need

GOD I hope they get rest too :((

breaking soooo much character right now to give my fullest take, and it’s that we can hold multiple ideas in our minds and i don’t think they conflict

playing through injuries is terrible.

They are whole adult human beings and professional athletes who have resources to keep them informed about long term consequences, and they still get to make those choices even if we hate the choices they make. Even if those choices drastically reduce the length of their career. Even if those choices end with long term heath complications.

i might lose some people on this one but i don’t care!! it’s what I believe: being disabled or chronically ill/injured/in pain is not a death sentence. it is not the worst thing in the world. people live full and happy lives whilst also being disabled. can it suck for the person living through it? yes. absolutely. but to me, people are not and never will be defined by how able-bodied they are!!!

All of this is true (to me) and also we can still condemn the circumstances that cause them to make these choices. (culture of not wanting to be seen as soft, the normalisation/valorisation of playing through injury, all the other [gestures wildly] forces at play that set athletes up to make these decisions) Like i’m sorry to get political but choices do not exist in vacuums. sports does not exist separated from hegemonic models of masculinity or capitalism. there are so so so many reasons a player might choose to harm themselves by playing through injury and not all of them are noble or valid, some of them are stupid and informed by bullshit!!! and we should be mad at that bullshit!! because it’s awful!!!!

these are their jobs, and i’m talking in the sense that they are performing labour and i think labour laws and workplace health and safety must apply here too. I think we have to start talking about these things in terms of workers rights, in amongst all of the compassion we have for them as players. there’s the pressure to perform due to contract status and salary bonus milestones; there’s team doctors having direct conflicts of interest, a monetary and cultural incentive to look the other way when clearing people to play; there’s the plain fact of the best possible safety equipment (cages/bowls, neck guards, cut resistant protective gear) not being mandatory; the blatant denial of CTE coming from the league itself. there’s a lot. and it’s a workers rights issue, not just a moral one. someone will play through xyz because of the culture, because of the pressure, and they will die from it.

EVEN STILL. there is beauty and narrative resonance and something compelling about it all, and I don’t want to deny that. as someone looking from the outside in, sports captures people’s hearts because of these narratives. sacrifice and teamwork and triumph — we have an appetite for these things. I am never going to sit here and deny that I feel compelled by it (which is simultaneous to the anger, the fear, the deep deep well of “i’m sorry you have feel you have to do this”) This appetite I/we as a society have for pain — unpacking it and addressing it is a whole other conversation and I am not qualified to have it. I’m just going to acknowledge it exists because I think pretending it doesn’t would be dishonest of me.

we are allowed to feel fucked up about all of this. call it parasocial, call it entitled, call it inappropriate, i don’t know!! we are people and knowing other people are in pain tends to fuck us up — and as much as I try to keep a healthy distance from these celebrities, as much as I remind myself they’re strangers, I care when they’re hurt because I’m human.

anyway. YES OUR POOR CRINGEFAIL WIVES 😭🤲

[tower-girl-anon]

Pick a Card: Who is your future spouse?

Since this week we have Valentine's Day, I've decided to do something different and bring you a first pick a card reading sorrounding the topic of your future spouse or husband. Their personality traits, overall energy, sexual energy, and possible signs to recognize them.

As always, enjoy and take what resonates since this is a general reading.

Warning: this reading includes SPOILERS from the Harry Potter world.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and choose the picture that resonates. The order is from left to right.

Pile 1

Wow!! Just... wow!! If you choose the hand with the flowers, then your future spouse is a very powerful and femenine force to reckon with. With the presence of three out of the four different Queens in the deck, along with two powerful mayor arcanas such as the Tower and The Lovers, your future lover is a complete package. It is a very well-balanced individual in terms of elements and masculine and femenine energy with whom you should be very careful because, just as they can be charming and loving towards you, they can also destroy you without a second of doubt.

Right from the bat, we get the Queen of Swords card as the overall energy of your future spouse, which tells me that the most prominent trait they possess is their natural intelligence. They are smart, persuasive, capture the idea of a topic easily, they've read a lot, know how to communicate well with other people, and could also be able to read people with just one glare as well. With the 6 of Clubs, which in Lenormand is considered the Cross, they may be religious or they carry a great burden in their life. If not right now, maybe they had to constantly face setbacks. Now, even though these traits could make them look cold, reserved, cutting or intimidating, they also have a charming, caring, and loving side thanks to The Lovers card as their good traits. When they love and trust someone, they do it fully and unreservedly. They are not afraid of showing their partner how much they mean to them through actions, words of affirmation, and valuing the other in the same level as them. Maybe writing notes, letters, or sending them songs could be one of their love lenguages.

In terms of bad traits, we have the Four of Wands, a card of celebration, parties, and weddings. The first thing that came to my mind with this card was the probability of them being already married or in a stable connection. That both met when this person was already in another connection, perphaps in the process of a divorce, creating a third party situation. On another note, this card could signal that this person really enjoys getting out, having fun with friends, being single, living life without compromise, and partying; situation that may change once they met you. Again, this is a general reading so take what resonates.

With the Remus Lupin and Nimphadora Tonks card, we have two characters that shows, right off the bat, what I've been saying so far about your future person. For those who doesn't know about them, the first one is a very intelligent werewolf who struggled from a very young age to survive, be accepted by others, and be accepted by themselves, while the second one is a smart, loving, but clumsy woman whose mayor talent was to change their physical aspect each time she wants and never judges anyone by their circumstances or where they come from since she falls in love, wholeheartedly, with Remus Lupin despite the opinions of the rest of the world. This characters shows the good nature of your future spouse, their intelligence, their ability to keep moving despite their insecurities or the situations they may have faced, and, above all, the deep love and affection they show to people they care about. Along with that, this story may represent your story together.

Now, pile 1, in relation to their sexual energy, how are they on bed, and how will they treat you, I can say that your future person will totally put you off your feets. They will totally disarm you with their spicy contrast between fire and water; a contrast that will change or destroy the previous ideas you may have had in relation to love and sex. One day, they could be all passionate, fiery, impatient, and even agressive by the way they do sex with you, or they would want you to do it this way, but another they will be all charming, nurturing, and emotional while doing it. On the other hand, these cards could signal that emotions and passion seems like a recurring theme each time you embrace each other in bed. There is mutual love and passion flowing between the two of you; a love that may change you both forever.

This is all I have for you pile 1, I hope this reading resonated. Send you lot's of love and light.

Possible signs and astrological placements: any fire and air sign, Gemini, Leo, 9th house and 11th house.

Pile 2

Welcome to your reading part 2!! Let's dive on who your future spouse is going to be.

Right from the bat, it is shown that your future spouse has a very masculine energy, a solitary personality, a keen intelect, and a wisdom that may make them look older than their age shows, so, for a few of you, the one your are going to marry is an old soul. For others, they could be older than you thanks to the image of The Hermit of an old man holding a lantern. Now, combining these cards with the Three of Cups as bad traits with the Neville Longbottom one, it is clear that your person was deeply misunderstood, judged or people looked down on them in the past, it could still be happening at this moment for some, that's why they are a looner and doesn't have many friends. Why do I say this? Because the character of Neville Longbottom suffered a lot from the absence of his parents due to a terrible torture that kept them in the hospital forever, along with not being considered good enough for many people. Even their own family. I'm not saying your future spouse will go through the same circumstances as this character but maybe, just like him, he or she faced a lot of obstacles in their life that may resonate with the idea of not being good enough for other people. Maybe they told them they are not talented enough, or smart enough, as this person or this one, which could have created self-esteem issues and mistrustful energy towards others.

Despite this possible obstacles they could have faced, your future spouse came out winning in the end with the Ace of Diamonds (Sun in Lenormand tarot). They fought back and prove those who didn't believed in them how wrong they were in their assumptions by reaching their goals, having success in their work environment. Most probably than not, those who make them wrong now want to be close to your future spouse for selfish motives.

In terms of a sexual compatibility with them, we have the Eight of Swords, the Knight of Cups, and the Four of Cups, which tells me that this person prefer things to go slow and smooth rather than fast that's why he or she will prefer to keep it private for a while before going public. Again, this could be due to their looner nature or their mistrust of other people's motives with them so, if you see that they act cold or aloof towards you, please don't take it too personally. This person needs to know first if they can trust you emotionally before establishing an intimate and solid relationship with you. There is also a chance that this person is a virgin or only had a very few sexual encounters in their life. Despite that, they will want to provide a hidden space for the both of you to enjoy without other people sneaking; a space in which he or she will find pleasure by looking at the beauty of your body or touching you softly, cherising each part of your body as you dive deeper into each other.

This is all I have for you pile 2. As for possible signs, I'm sensing air signs (GEMINI, AQUARIUS, Libra) and earth signs (VIRGO, TAURUS, Capricorn), along with a huge influence of Mercury. He or she could also have a fourth house theme such as a stellium (three or more planets in a single house) or something of the sort, which explains their need of being alone. So take what resonates and see you soon for another pick a card.

Pile 3

Welcome, pile 3, to the reading of your future spouse!!

Your future spouse is someone fiery, very masculine, adventurous, energetic, full of life and passionate. He could be a fire sign (Aries, Leo or Sagittarius) and may come from another country than you with the Ten of Spades. In Lenormand, this card represent the Ship card, so a possibility of them coming from another country, or even another continent, is very strong. If not that, then they will have travelled through different parts of the world, maybe they will come as an exchange student, by the time you both meet each other.

He may come from a wealthy and prideful family thanks to the Slytherin card with Draco and Lucius Malfoy at the front of the card. For those who doesn't know about these characters, the Malfoy family is an ancient family in the Harry Potter world whose mayor atributes resides in their riches and the pure blood lineage. They often criticise everyone who's not worthy of being a wizard and despises every other creature since they see them as inferiors. Despite this, they deeply care about each member and would do anything to keep them safe from harm. Maybe your future spouse comes from a family of these traits and they were able to travell thanks to them. Now, before you start leaving this reading you must know their true nature first.

This people are caring, loving, and young at heart with the Knight of Cups and Venus energy as their good traits. Not only they act so different as the rest of his or her family, they actually like meeting new people that comes from different backgrounds and countries. They are not judgemental when it comes about these themes since, with the 5th house card and the 7th house, what he likes the most is connecting with people and have a good time. Now, as their bad traits we have the Three of Swords, which speaks to me as someone who may not take relationships too seriously and that could be thanks to the Knight of Cups energy, for this screams of a lighter energy in comparison to other cards in the deck. Maybe they are still young and that's why they don't take things as serious as they should, causing others to feel heartbreak over them.

Now, pile 3, don't worry about them not being serious with you. Because they will. Once they meet you, their loyalty and commitment to the relationship will be noticeable. They will bring balance in both the relationship and in bed, and will try everything to make things work since, once they have you in his or her arms, it will feel like reaching victory to them. "After searching the world for so long, I've finally found you" is what I hear. In bed, the passion between you will be off scales. You won't wait too long to do sex. They will like your butt as well as an equal exchange of dominating and submisive energy between the two. This is just beautifull you guys, just be careful to use condom if you are not ready to become parents.

As possible signs for your future spouse, I see fire energy (Aries, LEO, SAGITTARIUS), a few air signs too (Gemini, LIBRA, Aquarius), and Venus, the 5th house, and the 7th house seems like important houses for them too.

This is my first pick a card reading, so feel free to like it or comment it below. Have a nice week everyone.

Tower Girl Anon.

[moltensmusings]

Connected to the recent yang posts: I think the change in how yang got depicted also resulted in a change in how Ruby got depicted. Ruby fell into the shounen protagonist category, and I feel like in a lot of ways, she's written somewhat similar to male protagonists. This isn't me knocking the series. I enjoy a good shounen protagonist and find it endearing that Ruby is written that way. But in doing so, she cokes off as a tomboy, especially in the beginning, and it means that her volume 4 fit just never seemed in line with her as a character to me.

I don't think this design is bad. But it doesn't fit Ruby as we know her. Clearly they wanted to go for design to show that she's aged a bit and things have changed but I feel like this was the wrong direction to go. However in their attempts to steer Yang into a masculine direction it resulted in them swapping the feminity to Ruby instead and in the end we get this costume that would work on a character like Summer Rose but feels really weird for the protagonist of the show itself.

It feels like they were trying to make her cute and eye catching more than anything else. Ruby never wore low cut tops or thigh highs. She was practical with her fits.

It's why I much prefer her volume 7 design.

It feels distinctly ruby while also adding in things like a more spikey hairstyle and shorts to bring back her tomboy vibes. This to me reads much better as a matured ruby concept than volume 4 does. I think giving Ruby shorts/pants as she ages is a solid route to go. Though when arrowfell sprites come in, I start having slight dislikes for art direction again.

The sprites feel like they're leaning so heavily into making ruby cute and feminine that it loses a bit of her character in the process. Honestly most of team RWBY in this game I feel didn't end up with sprites that capture them as well as they should. Weiss' are the ones I liked the most as they felt the most in character.

Ruby at her core is a scrappy, often laid back character who throughout the series has never engaged heavily with feminity. It wouldn't be strange or wrong to lean into a certain level of androgyny and mess around a bit with her presentation as she changes over the series. In their ploy to angle Yang as a more masculine character I think the writers felt the need to make one of the sisters more feminine and they got their wires crossed forgetting that Yang while the cool older sister, was still enjoying her feminity. Being physically strong, flirty, or confident doesn't make you masculine. Neither does being direct and stubborn.

Both of the sisters were subversion in ways of what people expected of them. Ruby despite wearing a skirt and having frills really didn't care about being feminine or looking proper. Yang while more rough and tumble still enjoyed dressing in low cut tops, miniskirts, boots with bows, and did have a strong interest in her appearance.

[handweavers]

Have you seen the hugh grant adaptation of maurice and if so what are your thoughts on it?

i have and i really enjoy it! i think the cinematography is beautiful and i appreciate most of the little changes they made to the story, particularly that of making it more clear that clive's "crisis" was due to internalized (and externalized) homophobia and not that he just woke up one day and decided he's straight now like the book implies lol. i think the movie is excellent at capturing the almost dreamlike, nostalgic quality of the book. it is generally very faithful to the book, down to repeating many lines word for word, which i really appreciate

i have mixed feelings on the casting of james wilby because in the book maurice is hyper masculine, tall dark and handsome, explicitly stated to be em forster's "middle class dream man" in that he is the english middle class ideal of a very masculine straight man, the last man anyone would ever suspect of being gay, and that clive was the one who was a bit more effeminate and boyish. i think a part of that was also a class thing (the whole book is class analysis), in the sense that maurice being middle class and occupying a more precarious position than clive meant he couldn't afford to be as 'soft' as clive was and put a lot more effort into performing heterosexuality publically while being far more comfortable with his homosexuality in private than clive ever was. but also due to class clive was more unwilling to risk his social status by fully embracing life as a gay man whereas maurice actually developed class consciousness over the course of the book and abandons his class position altogether lol. james wilby brings a different vibe to the character, and i feel that dichotomy between maurice and clive is switched around a bit and the social context of their characters as they were written for their time period (the early 1910s) is somewhat discarded, which makes me a little sad. but wilby does so well in the role, as does grant and rupert graves as alec i'm not as grumbly about it as i might be.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 15

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, mild angst, Mandalorian culture lore dump, Din speaks Mando'a, SMUT, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), dirty talk, Din DOES remove the helmet, SoftDom!Din, touch-starved Din, emotional sex, Din has tattoos

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

You woke swallowed in darkness.

The surface on which your cheek rested, broad and solid, rose and fell with a gentle, even rhythm, and something heavy and limp pressed down along the length of your back, wrapping itself around your bare waist. You could feel the press of fingers there, the weight of a broad, calloused palm. A smile bloomed on your lips, unseen and unbidden, when you noticed that you had hitched one of your legs up over a thick, muscular thigh in your sleep. Ducking your chin to hide that smile, you slowly, carefully ran the sole of your foot along the inside of your companion’s leg, feeling the firm muscle and coarse hair there.

Tucked up close like this, you were shrouded in that scent, the one you had been so fond of for so long, the one you wore on your own body like a brand. Spiced, masculine, tinged with a subtle something – something salty and warm, like skin – that made you think of sleep. It was a well-loved mattress, a dense pillow, a shallow ceiling and close walls, cool to the touch, pressing in from all sides.  

You squirmed a bit, adjusting your weight, and your bare ass pressed briefly against one of those durasteel walls, less than a handful of inches away. You immediately jerked back, arching into the heat of the body next to you, the cold, unexpected contact a shock to your system, but that shift of your hips brought your attention to the state of your own body. Remnant slickness smeared between your legs, and your muscles ached, stretched and used in a way that they hadn’t been in longer than you cared to admit.

Your smile broadened, and you felt a flush spread across your face, down your neck, along your chest. You relished that ache, held it, cradled it deep inside your body like a trophy. It was irrefutable evidence that you had finally done the thing that you had been fantasizing about for weeks. In the impenetrable blackness, under the rush of hot water, crowded and pressed and molded back against the walls of a ‘fresher you had designed and built yourself, you had made the Mandalorian yours.

Din Djarin.

The name suited him. Simple, strong, but with a touch of mystery that caught the ear, that made you want to listen.

That’s part of my appeal, isn’t it? The mystery?

It was, you knew. Part of his appeal. But now, with his arm slung around your waist and his chest pillowed beneath your cheek, with the memory of the way he had groaned and gasped in your ear and the way he had moved inside your body, relentless, inescapable, you couldn’t help but long for a little less mystery and a little more…knowing.

You had meant what you said to him in the ‘fresher, with your hands trembling as you grasped his helmet. You didn’t need to see his face. But you were only human, and the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hair under your hands, his stubble scraping over your jaw…all of it made you want to know him.

As you lay there in the dark, your scarf still secure and snug against your eyes, you wondered. Was it truly seeing his face that was forbidden? What about…touching? Learning his features with your fingers? Was that also forbidden? You had gathered some information the night before when he kissed you, when he buried his face against you and mouthed at your neck, but it hadn’t been much, and you had been…admittedly distracted.

Beneath your cheek, Din’s chest rose and fell peacefully, and you could feel his warm, deep breaths fanning over your forehead, ruffling your hair.

Perhaps now…perhaps while he still slept…

Gently and with great care, you ghosted your fingertips across the wide planes of his chest, barely skimming the surface, testing.

He remained still under your touch, his breathing even, unmoved.

Smothering a smile, you dragged your fingers along his collarbones next, then up to the tops of his shoulders, then his neck, feeling the muscles there, the tendons you had only caught a teasing glimpse of peaking out of the bottom of his cowl. Even at rest, he felt strong. There was might under your hands, and you felt the ache at the apex of your thighs throb in recognition of it.

This powerful man had gotten down on his knees for you, buried his tongue in your slick for you. The thought made your mouth water.

Your fingers had a mind of their own then. They traced up to the strong, square line of his jaw, feeling the edge of it, the rasp of a generous line of stubble under your sensitive fingertips. Coarse, patchy, too short to really be considered a beard but long enough to leave a friction burn behind wherever it touched. Further up, and the soft shell of an ear took shape under your touch, framed by thick, fluffy curls with wild, flipped-up tips. You grinned at the sensation of them dancing through your fingers, light and soft. Did Mandalorians get bedhead, you wondered? You thought perhaps he might have bedhead.

Sweeping the pad of your thumb across his forehead, you could feel the faintest traces of grooves there – a few horizontal, shallow and thin, then two vertical, deeper and between thick, prominent brows. Frown lines. He had an expressive face behind his helmet then. Was he older than you? You had guessed as much, if only because of his mannerisms and the world-weary way he sometimes carried himself when he thought no one could see. Now, as you traced along the hollows under his eyes, the delicate crinkles at the corners, you wondered just how much older.

Not that it mattered anyway. It had been well over a decade since such a thing might have raised eyebrows. You were plenty old enough to be trusted to choose who you brought into your bed.

If anything, the revelation only made his physical prowess more impressive, both in combat and in a more…pleasurable sense.

It wasn’t until your fingers began to slip down over the dramatic curve of his nose that you noticed his breathing shift.

You paused for a moment, your touch just barely skimming the highest point of the hooked bridge. “Din?” you whispered, cocking your head up toward his face, praying you hadn’t woken him.

“I’m awake, cyar’ika.” That voice, thick with sleep, rumbled through his chest. He sounded sleepy, though perhaps not as sleepy as you would expect. Had you missed him waking up earlier? Had he simply been lying beneath you, watching you study him, letting you run your fingers over his face?

You couldn’t see him through your blindfold, but you were certain he could see you. The bunk didn’t stay dark enough to keep him from following your every move with his eyes.

You felt your cheeks darken, and you ducked your head on instinct, willing him not to catch your embarrassment. Drawing your hand away from his face, you asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

You sensed movement above you, and you realized quickly that he was shaking his head at you. “No. It feels…nice,” the bounty hunter confessed, sounding a bit surprised even as the words left his mouth.

Something warm and soft settled itself in your chest at his admission, and you immediately returned your fingers to his skin, finding that furrow between his brows with your touch, dragging it down his nose with gentle precision. He let out a deep sigh, his muscles relaxing against your body, his hand at your waist starting to stroke the skin there. In the cramped quarters of the bunk that most definitely had not been designed for more than one person, there was nowhere for either of you to go except deeper into the other’s embrace. It was desperately intimate, being pressed together like this, touching like this.

You leaned into that intimacy, that discomfort, and unhurriedly continued your perusal of his features.

“How long has it been?” Your voice was soft and low as you traced to the tip of his nose, down to the mustache adorning his upper lip. Denser than his beard, you realized. Thicker. “Since someone else touched you like this?”

His cupid’s bow was shallow and wide, his mouth slightly downturned, but his lower lip was full and plush. You felt his lips part, felt the warmth of his breath as he released a thoughtful sound, contemplating your question.

After a beat, Din replied, “No one has ever touched me like this.”

You paused at that, your fingers stilling in the center of his chin. “Never?”

He shook his head minutely, a gesture you were certain you would have missed if you hadn’t been touching his face. “Never. Not my face, anyway.” His jaw worked around a thick swallow as he paused to gather his thoughts, and you said nothing, simply waiting for him to continue.

“I took the Creed when I was a boy,” he began, halting and vulnerable. “When I was an apprentice, I…explored. On occasion. But my…partners, they all had taken the same oaths as me. My helmet stayed on, as did theirs.” You offered him a small, upward turn of your lips, encouraging him to go on. “As an adult, I considered doing something like this with other partners, trying to find a way to be together like this without the risk of them seeing my face, but by then, I was so accustomed to the helmet that the idea of risking taking if off in front of anyone was too much. Too…exposed.”

Your eyebrows quirked up in the middle, pressing against your blindfold as you took a moment to let his revelation sink in. It hardly seemed possible, and yet, with what little you knew of the Creed (and how seriously he committed to it), you supposed he was telling the truth. No one had touched his face since he was a child.

“This takes a lot of trust for you, doesn’t it?” you murmured, cupping his warm, stubbly cheek in your palm. You ran your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch like a Loth-cat.

“It does.” His voice rasped in your ear, heavy with emotion, and the sound made you feel as though someone had reached through your ribcage, taken ahold of your heart, and squeezed.

Din was lonely. He missed connection, missed touch. Suddenly, all of those gentle caresses in your moments of need, the way he clung to you when he was exhausted or hurt, the way his first instinct when trying to teach you something new or to keep you safe involved his hands on your body – all of it made so much sense. He treated Grogu the same way, though perhaps to a lesser extent. Always choosing to carry him when he could instead of making the boy walk beside him, preferring to keep his little body tucked into the crook of his arm or cradled against his chest.

He wanted you close.

Tears stung the backs of your closed eyelids, and you turned your face into his chest, pressing a tender kiss to his skin. “Thank you. For trusting me. It’s a privilege.”

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments then, simply enjoying the feel of each other’s skin, learning the dips and curves and planes of each other’s bodies. In your mind, you built a model of his face, trying to picture each of the elements you had now explored through touch, to map them into something visual for your mind’s eye to focus on when you thought of him. You knew your time with him like this was limited, that eventually the blindfold would be removed, and you would meet his gaze through the impenetrable visor of his helmet once more. You were determined to savor this.

“Will you tell me about the Creed?” you asked.

You felt the bounty hunter frown, questioning. “I assumed you knew.”

“Only what I’ve figured out after living with you for so long,” you replied, shaking your head. “My father, he used to tell me stories about Mandalorians when I was a child, but I have no idea what of that was truth and what was just…stories.”

“Hmm.” Din paused, seeming to mull over his answer. “The Creed is a belief system. It’s meant to be a guide – to define what it means to be Mandalorian.”

You smiled fondly at the obvious pride in his voice, the seriousness with which he considered your question. “And what does it mean, to be Mandalorian?”

Beneath your touch, his body seemed to straighten, to harden, less drowsy warmth and more seriousness. “To be Mandalorian means valuing loyalty and solidarity,” he explained. “It means keeping true to your word. Having honor and strength of character. Caring for and providing for children, particularly foundlings. Understanding your heritage and living its values. And respecting the keepers of the culture.”

You nodded along to each revelation, affection swelling in you as he unknowingly put to words every core tenet of his own personality. He might as well have been describing his own personal code of ethics for how closely he stuck to those beliefs. He had clearly taken them to heart, integrated them into the core of his being to such a degree that it would be nearly impossible to separate the Creed from the man.

But there was one thing you noticed that he very clearly had not mentioned.

“And the helmet?” you prompted, bringing your palm to rest against the hollow of his breastbone.

Din hesitated for a breath, shifting against you. “The helmet is…complicated.”

You said nothing, simply nodded to show you were listening.

“The Mandalorians that raised me… The helmet is our most sacred belief. When we are old enough to take the Creed and swear to walk the Way of the Mandalore, we are given a helmet. It’s a symbol of that oath, and while it helps keep our identities concealed, it also keeps our identities as Mandalorians the most…salient part of who we are. In the Tribe, it doesn’t matter where you come from, whether you were born Mandalorian or not. It doesn’t matter what your House name is. It doesn’t even matter what species you are. All that matters is that you are Mandalorian. You are Mandalorian, and you…belong.”

Immediately, you thought of Grogu, fast asleep on the second floor, curled up in one of the copilot’s chairs in the cockpit. You thought of all the times you had caught Din speaking soft, lilting Mando’a to him, how he had explained to you that as a Mandalorian foundling, the language was part of his inheritance, his birthright.

“That’s beautiful, Din,” you said earnestly. You had never had that, you realized. That innate, unshakable sense of belonging that the Mandalorians had gifted to him, that he was now gifting to the little boy in his care.

“I’ve always thought so, too,” the bounty hunter replied. But there was something about his response that sounded unfinished to your ears, the end of his sentence hanging in the close air between you as though he wanted to say more.

“So…what makes it complicated?”

Again, Din shifted beneath you in a gesture you were starting to interpret as apprehension, like he wasn’t certain how much he should say, how candid he should be. “Not all Mandalorians believe what I believe,” he admitted reluctantly. “There are Mandalorians – many of them – who remove their helmets. They show their faces to…everyone.” He paused, seemingly conflicted. “I didn’t know such Mandalorians existed until recently. Not long before I met you.”

Oh.

Your thoughts swam with the implications of that discovery, immediately full of empathy for how confusing that experience must have been for him. To go your whole life with a single belief system, to make that belief system absolutely integral to your identity, and then to find others who claimed to share that identity while seemingly ignoring the single most sacrificial facet of it. It had to have felt like a betrayal, like they were reaping benefits without paying the price.

You floundered for an appropriate response until the silence became heavy. Eventually, you settled for something you hoped was validating without ascribing meaning that he hadn’t yet claimed. “That must have been jarring.”

You felt him nod. “It was. I didn’t trust them, at first. But the more time I spent with them, the more I started to think…perhaps we have more in common than we have differences.”

The other Mandalorians, the ones who showed their faces, had shown Din that it was possible to choose differently. His words made you think he still respected them, still found camaraderie with them, even after they had made him question himself and his beliefs.

The question was out of your mouth before you could reign it in.

“Have you ever…considered it? Doing things their way? Showing your face?”

The bounty hunter stiffened beneath you, pulling his body away from yours as far as he could manage in the cramped space. He hissed involuntarily as his back came into contact with the cold bunk wall opposite you, and you wished you could reel the words back in, suck them up, tuck them behind your teeth where they ought to have stayed. The scant inches between your bodies hurt, and you fought the urge to chase him across the mattress.

“I’m sorry, cyare, I can’t – ”

You knew that. You knew that. Maker, what a kriffing stupid thing to say.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you promised, extending your hands toward him, palms up, supplicant. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, please don’t apologize. I told you – I don’t need to see your face.”

“I…” Din hesitated, and then you felt the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours, cradling your hands in the space between you, soothing your panic. “I don’t want you to grow to…resent it. That I can’t give you all of me.”

Giving in to the urge, you scooted yourself across that handful of inches, pressing your front along his, resting your hands on his chest. “Din, this is all of you. What I want doesn’t have anything to do with what you look like. I want…I want this.” Your palm found his heart. It raced under your touch, belying his nerves at the direction the conversation had taken. “This is what I fell in love with. Not your face.”

…

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to say it – not now, not like this.

But as you felt his breath stutter beneath your hands, felt him reach with shaking fingers to cup your face, you thought perhaps it was precisely what he needed to hear. One moment, your confession broke to silence, and then the next, Din was dragging your lips to his, crashing against you in the dark.

“Ner cyare,” he groaned between fervent kisses, licking across the seam of your mouth, pressing against the hinge of your jaw with his thumbs, prying you open beneath him. “Gar kandosii’la dala. You mean it?”

“Yes, Din.” Your words came out high-pitched and helpless, instantly weak under his onslaught, and he surged up against you at the sound. He rolled you onto your back, shifting so that he hovered over you, pressing into you, bearing you back into the mattress as he sealed his mouth over yours. His kiss was still clumsy and unpracticed, but it hardly mattered. He was ravenous for you, and you whimpered against his tongue, lost in the sheer abandon of it.

Before you could really gain your footing, he was moving, tracing a long, wet line across your sternum, burying his face between your breasts, smothering himself against your raging heartbeat.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

Of course, you hadn’t the faintest idea what he was saying, the rolling, lilting syllables of Mando’a continuing to elude you as he pressed them to the underside of one of your breasts. All you knew was that it sounded like devotion, like benediction.

Dragging his teeth across your skin, you were certain that he was leaving behind a trail of beard burns, and you relished the idea, arching into his touch, silently begging for more of the gentle hurt. The sensation had your chest heaving, your nipples pebbling, tightening, straining for his touch in the cool air. You hoped you would find streaks of redness there the next time you looked in a mirror. You wanted to see the evidence of his presence on your skin.

“Ner kar’ta. Too good for me.” His voice was breathless, ruined. Stars, you wished you could see him like that. The way he came unraveled for you was quickly becoming addicting. Had anyone ever felt so powerful pinned on their back? You thought not.

You shook your head, your hands coming up to cradle the back of his skull, threading through his hair. “Hush. Don’t be r-ridiculous – ”

But your protests were cut short, your words ending on the back of a gasp as Din wrapped his hot, wet mouth around one of your nipples.

You couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that poured from your throat at that, your fingers in his hair twisting and gripping to steady yourself against the intensity. Your nails scraped along his scalp, and the bounty hunter growled in response, nipping at you as he moved on to the other breast. Kriffing hells, the wetness, the suction, the hunger – it was addictive, the sensations soaking into your skin and rushing through your bloodstream like a drug.

And the insistent press of the blindfold tied tightly around your eyes only served to enhance that feeling. There in the dark, there was nothing but him – nothing but his hands sweeping down your body, cupping your waist, nothing but his tongue on your nipples, his breath drawing goosebumps on your skin. You felt weightless, buoyant beneath his touch, like you were sinking beneath great swells of pleasure with no strength or desire to fight your way back to the surface. Your only anchor point was your Mandalorian’s hair under your hands, so new and yet somehow still familiar, somehow still safe.

“Say it again, mesh’la,” he grunted, somewhere between a command and a plea.

He didn’t need either. You would have done anything he asked of you in that moment, anything to keep his lips on your body, his pleasure spilling from him in waves, choking the close air around you.

“I love you, Din,” you whined. “I love you. Please – ”

You felt his broad palms grip your thighs as he settled above you in the narrow space, coaxing them open, tugging them up to wrap around his slim hips. You could feel the length of him there, thick and hot and hardening by the minute, and your hips moved of their own accord, bucking up against him, dragging the underside of his cock through your folds. A chorus of groans echoed off the durasteel walls at the friction, both yours and his, but he didn’t allow you to play like that for long. Before you could really begin to work yourself up, Din’s hands had slipped down to your hips and gripped them tightly, holding them still.

“Please what?” he taunted, low and strained. His voice sounded farther away, no longer rumbling against your skin, like he had drawn himself up on his haunches. You tightened the grip of your thighs against him, trying to get a feel for where he had gone, and you thought he might have knelt upright between your legs, staring down at you in the low light. The distance made you uneasy, and you shifted beneath him, squirming against his grasp.

“Din.” An embarrassed flush bloomed across your chest, and you fought the urge to hide. You could feel him watching you – bare, writhing, and desperate as you reached for him, scrabbling against his soft belly with your fingertips, trying and failing to drag him back on top of you. “Don’t make me beg.”

A short, rasping chuckle filled the air as the bounty hunter released his grip on your hips and instead brought his fingers between your thighs. Cupping your mound, he pressed the meat of his palm into you, massaging in broad, firm circles. “But you sound so sweet when you beg for me, ner kar’ta.”

You keened at that, grinding back against him. That had no right feeling as good as it did. It was nothing but pressure, too indirect to get you where you needed to be, too rough to feel like he was doing anything other than manhandling you, and yet you couldn’t seem to stop your hips from chasing after that crude touch. You could feel your wetness beginning to collect under his hand, leaking from your folds as you thrust against his palm.

You whimpered pitifully, your grip on his waist weak and ineffectual as you tried to pull him down over you. You were getting desperate now; you felt shaky and fragile, like you were about to fly apart at any moment, bone-deep yearning clawing at your belly as he effortlessly drove you higher. It was so much and yet not nearly enough.

After another few moments of this that seemed to last an eternity, the Mandalorian finally capitulated.

“Okay, fine. No begging this time,” he agreed, slowly, gently pulling his hand away from your center. He wiped his palm across your upper thigh, and you blushed at the streak of wetness it left behind, hot and sticky on your skin. “You just lie back, and I’ll give you exactly what you need. That’s what ner cyare wants, isn’t it? Just want someone to treat you like you deserve. Don’t want to have to ask, hm?”

His touch returned then, the slick press of two thick fingers teasing your entrance, petting gently, maddeningly at your fluttering hole, and you felt your jaw drop open as they sank inside you to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

“That’s it, isn’t it, sweet girl? That feels good?”

“Yes, shit, Din, that’s so good.” Maker, his hands were divine – big and strong and capable, filling you perfectly, seeking that soft, spongy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back behind your blindfold, made sparks fly in the darkness. You choked on a groan as his thumb began to circle your clit. Delicate, slippery, just enough pressure to have you melting into the mattress.

A soft, self-satisfied hum reached your ears. “You’re so beautiful like this. Look at you – pussy’s so pretty, taking my fingers so well, cyar’ika. And those perfect fucking tits…” A deep, wrecked sound wrenched itself from Din’s chest as he trailed off, distracted, and you swore you could feel his gaze tracing blazing patterns across your skin. “You just tell me when you’ve had enough, and I’ll give you my cock.”

The mere mention of it was enough to have saliva pooling in your mouth. You had barely managed to get a look at his cock the night before. One moment, you had been tugging down his flight suit pants, and the next, you had been knocking out the lights, plunging the both of you into impenetrable blackness. Now, you cursed the presence of the blindfold still tucked securely around your eyes. You needed to see him – the blunt, spongy tip, flushed and dripping, the bobbing length, the thick vein that carved its way along the underside that you had felt with your tongue…

A soft, involuntary noise bubbled up in your throat, and your hips stuttered against the Mandalorian’s hand, your walls pulsing around his fingers at the memory of his taste. Maker, the way he had leaked down the back of your throat, slick musk and man. It had made your cunt ache, and just the thought of it had a fresh wave of wetness slipping down his fingers and into his calloused palm.

“Din,” you panted, your lungs burning in your chest, your thighs flexing, squeezing his hips, hitching up against the sides of his waist. “Please, I can’t – I need – ”

His fingers slipped from the snug grip of your body almost immediately, and you keened in protest. But then he was running both of his hands over your lower stomach and around the flare of your hips, soothing you, easing the growing tension from your muscles.  

“Shhh, I know. S’okay.” His voice was gruff, like his throat had gone dry, and it washed over you like steel rasping on stone, raising goosebumps across your skin. Sweeping his palms under your body, he sank his fingers into the plushness of your ass and tilted your pelvis up, canting your hips toward him. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Want to feel you dig your nails into me while I fill you up.”

Your breath hitched you felt the side of his wrist brush against your wetness, coming around to grip the base of his cock, pressing down against it to notch the head at your entrance. Your hands flew to his bare, broad shoulders, fingers digging in with something close to desperation.

“‘M gonna watch you this time, mesh’la,” Din growled, pressing into you, making way inside your body for his own with one long, smooth, slow thrust. You sighed at the stretch, a dull, throbbing burn that you welcomed like a friend, pulsing like a heartbeat, vital and alive.

“‘M gonna watch you, and ‘m gonna learn. What makes you moan, what makes you sweat, what makes you drip for me.” You heard his voice get closer, felt his body curve over yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other coming up to cradle the back of your skull, holding you in place beneath him. Dragging soft, wet kisses across your collarbone, he rasped, “Don’t hold back. I do something you like, I want to hear it. Ner cyare deserves to feel so good.”

You nodded rapidly, urgently, ducking your chin, seeking his mouth with your own. You poured all of yourself into that kiss – all of the respect and admiration you had grown to feel for him, all of the moments your heart had softened and melted when you watched him with the kid, all of the longing glances and furtive stares when you hoped he wasn’t looking, all of the nights you had gone to sleep with your face buried in his pillow, soaking in his scent, trying to ignore the burning hunger between your legs. Stars, you loved him.

Tearing your lips away with a moan, you felt tears pricking the backs of your closed eyelids. “Din. Just fuck me. Please, you’re killing me!”

Something low and primal rumbled in the bounty hunter’s chest at that. “Shab. See, I told you. So fucking sweet when you beg.”

And then he was fucking you – slow, hard, and purposeful, drawing his hips so far back that he almost withdrew from you completely before slamming home again, pounding you into the threadbare mattress, making the durasteel metal frame creek and whine under the force of it. Your mouth dropped open on a cry, head falling back on your neck, fingers scrabbling across his shoulders for purchase. You could feel every inch of him like this, long and thick and slightly curved, the dense, dark curls at his base scraping against your swollen clit with every inescapable thrust. The friction made your thighs tremble, and you brought your hips up to meet his as best as you could in the confined space, seeking more of that sensation.

“Mmm… She’s so perfect, cyar’ika. Perfect little cunt. Wet and t-tight and hot.” Din mouthed at your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just below you ear, making you whine. “Shab! Can you feel her, sucking me in like this? Pulling me deeper? It’s fucking…unreal.”

You made a high-pitched, incoherent sound that could be construed as a “yes.” You could feel it – the way your body welcomed him so thoroughly, so completely, the way it nearly begged him to stay inside, tried to keep him. You had never felt anything like it, so beyond anything you had ever experienced on your own or even with another partner. You were so lost in him; you could hardly think.

“‘M gonna feel her come all over me this time, sweet girl. Not gonna stop, not gonna come until you do it.”

You nodded frantically, feeling your head move against his hold, which you suddenly realized was the only thing keeping you from sliding up the mattress and ramming into the forward wall of the bunk with the force of his thrusts.

“Thought about you like this. So. Many. Times.” Each word punctuated by the pounding of his hips, relentless and steady.

“When?” you gasped, laving the straining tendons of his neck with your tongue, tasting the salt of the sweat that had begun to pool there.

Din shuddered under your touch. “Dank farrik, all the time. Every time you tie that kriffing jumpsuit around your waist when you walk around in your welding gear with your tits out. In your little bath towel, dripping all over the deck. With my blaster in your hand, so frustrated but so e-eager to please.” His hips broke rhythm for the first time, overwhelmed, and you couldn’t hold back your breathless smirk.

“Yeah? That do something for you?” You squeezed down around him, taunting, and the bounty hunter swore colorfully.

“I’m a fucking Mandalorian. My weapons are s-sacred to me. What do you think?” Both hands gripping your hips now, he reared back up onto his haunches, and you yelped as he pulled your lower body almost into his lap, your ass resting between his spread knees, your legs up draped up and over his hips. “Now, if you can think enough to be a little mir’sheb, then I must not be doing my job. No more thinking, gotabor’ika. No more talking. Just feel.”

Din’s hips surged forward, and you cried out in equal parts shock and pleasure. The sudden incline of your body had the tip of his cock dragging devastatingly along your g-spot, and the arch of your back left you with no leverage – no way to meet his thrusts, no way to give as good as you got. You were suspended, helpless, as he proceeded to take you apart.

And Maker, it was so good. He was right; there was no room for thinking when he fucked you like this. It couldn’t possibly be allowed – stretching and dripping and melting and pounding and panting and whining and fucking, fucking, fucking. Eyes fluttering mindlessly behind your blindfold, your hands found their way to your own body, one dropping down to draw urgent circles around your clit, the other gripping one of your breasts, toying with your tight, pebbled nipple. Slick, squelching, obscene noises echoed in the narrow bunk as your bounty hunter filled you again and again, his fingers digging bruises into your hips and thighs, his gritted teeth biting back resonant, animalistic groans.

You were climbing too quickly to stop it, too quickly to pause and try to savor the build-up. He was shoving you up that mountain with single-minded focus, reveling in your defenselessness, your utter submission to his will and the power of his body, leaving you no time to catch your breath. You could feel sweat gathering under your breasts, in the small of your back, under the heavy weight of your damp, braided hair. Whimpers and moans and curses spilled from your lips unchecked, and distantly, you thought you heard him let out a breathless chuckle at the sound.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika,” he ground out, never relenting, continuing to grind the thick, plush tip of his cock against that spot that made you see stars. “Just let it happen. Let go for me. Let me feel you come on this cock.”

Of course, you did.

Wrenching a wet, desperate sound from your throat, you fell head-long over the edge of that mountain. Your walls clenched down around him in quivering, trembling pulses, wetness gushing, slicking his curls, dripping down his balls, down the crease of your ass. From far away, you heard Din curse, but he managed to fuck you through it, prolonging your torment, extending your ecstasy.

You felt feeble in the aftermath, frayed at the edges, as though all of your thoughts and all of your strength had leaked out of your well-loved cunt along with your cum, pounded out of you in the dark.

You only barely came back to yourself in time enough to hear his gasping, stammering question.

“Where – sweetheart, where should I – ?”

Your pussy throbbed sympathetically at the desperation in voice as you replied, your voice hoarse, “Inside. Come inside me, honey.”

Hands shaking where they held you, sweat dripping from his face and chest onto your thighs, Din Djarin loosed a weak, overwhelmed sound and buried his cock as deep as it would go. You felt the length of him stutter and spasm, and you moaned faintly as you felt heat spill into the clutch of your cunt.

Kriffing hells.

Between your trembling, boneless legs, you felt him sag forward, curling over your arched body, the weight of his hands coming to press into the mattress on either side of you. He was breathing heavily; you could hear it reverberating off the close walls, could feel it dancing over your damp skin, and you reached up, seeking his face with your touch. He met you in midair, cupping the back of one of your hands in his much larger one and bringing it to his cheek. His skin was slick under your palm, his stubble sharp, and you smiled fondly into the darkness.

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

Turning his face into your touch, Din dropped a soft, wet kiss to the heel of your hand. Warm, lilting, and intimate, he pressed his words into your skin like a prayer. “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

“What’s that one mean?” Your fingers found his hair, limp with sweat and curling wildly across his forehead, and you pushed it out of his face.

Your question was met with silence, the only sound his labored breathing as he slowly, painstakingly came back down from his high. Instead of answering, he gently slipped his softening cock from your body and shifted back, allowing your legs to relax down onto the mattress. The next thing you knew, a cool burst of air washed over your body as the bunk door slid open.

“Don’t move, ner kar’ta. I’ll be right back.”

You felt the bunk shift beneath you as Din scooted out the door, heard the gentle padding of his bare feet against the durasteel deck plating as he crossed the small distance to the ‘fresher, and then startled at the sound of running water. A moment later, he was back, clambering back up into the recessed bunk, slipping in beside your body in the uncomfortably tight quarters.

He tucked himself around you, nestled against your side, tenderly urged you to spread your tired legs. A warm, wet washcloth appeared between your thighs, his gentle touch wiping away the slick, sticky evidence of your coupling, and you sighed at the sensation. Your pussy felt well-used and swollen, unused to such attention, and the heat of the rag felt like a balm.

Once he seemed satisfied that he had cleaned you up as best as he could, he banished the washcloth to the cargo hold floor just outside the bunk doors and cradled you to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your body with loving possession.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he repeated, his voice impossibly close, warm against your neck. “It means, ‘I will know you forever.’ It means, ‘I love you.’ Ner kar’ta. ‘My heart.’”

Sleep tugged at the corners of your consciousness as you nuzzled into him, reveling in his closeness. “Mmm… I like the sound of that.” Your palm came to rest against his breastbone, feeling the strength and the breadth of his body, the intimacy of the moment like a warm blanket, comforting and safe. “You’ll have to teach me someday…ner kar’ta.”

You could feel yourself slipping away, all of your muscles softening against him, your breathing evening out, but before sleep claimed you once more, you felt Din exhale heavily into your hair. His fingers digging into your skin where he held you, he replied, “Someday.”

___

Mando'a Translations:

Ner cyare - my beloved Gar kandosii’la dala. - You amazing woman. Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum. - I love you, literally "I will know you forever." Ner kar’ta - my heart mir’sheb - smartass

[thepersonperson]

MAAAAN THESE SUKUNA ANALYSES... THEY'RE SO GOOD... I've always related to him super hard just on first readings as a trans disabled person who is an ambulatory wheelchair user. I'm incredibly violent and confrontational, too. If I could just fuckin kill the people who dehumanize me constantly, I mean... that kind of power is tempting! The way you read him is so satisfying to my brain, and it definitely makes sense in the text as well. Overall I'm just really happy to see somebody managing to put into words what I subconsciously grasped the first time I watched and read JJK. I was literally internally like "omg omg omg they put it into words!! omg!!!" the entire time I've been reading these posts. I can't wait to see what other analysis posts you've made and if there's other stuff for fandoms I enjoy. Thanks a lot for what you do! People like me appreciate it so much.

Oh thank goodnesss you feel this way. Everytime I post always I think of this image.

Thank you for confirming I'm still at secret esoteric knowledge.

Sukuna is very cathartic for me as a character in that way too. He basically gets to act out where I would restrain myself.

It’s funny that you mention you’re trans. At the risk of tipping the scale to mental illness, I think Sukuna is a very gender character. I find his refusal to introduce himself very relatable. He just kind of lets everyone call him whatever. The only time he ever identifies himself is when not doing so could put in his life in danger.

That’s it. “I’m the Fallen/Disgraced One”. I don’t believe he ever refers to himself as a man either. He just uses a masculine speaking style.

I also like how he doesn’t seem to care about being associated with feminine things. The marketing leans into this for some reason, pairing him up with Hello Kitty, which I think is great.

He projects this “I’m too strong to care about gender” aura I’m obsessed with. It might stem from his dehumanization as well. Both himself and other people are not really sure if he’s a curse or a human, so why on earth would he outwardly identify as man? It's not like curses have genders to begin with.

But the moment anyone tries to concretely observe him, like Mahito or Yuji touching his soul, he flips out. That really captures the vibe of “acknowledge my existence, but do not perceive me.” And if you find that relatable you should read Umineko.

Sukuna is on the border of everything, so he reads like an allegory for multiple minority groups all at once.

He’s masculine in his presentation, but isn’t considered human enough to be called a man. That’s very trans of him.

He’s extremely ablebodied at a glance, but his abnormal features make normal day to day life a constant battle. That’s very invisibly disabled of him.

He may be Japanese by blood, but he’s deemed a monster and pushed out from society for not meeting certain physical features. That’s very biracial of him.

[aisuruyuuji]

Suni talks: Lovely Complex and toxic masculinity...

Recently I've seen quite the number of people displeased with how Lovely Complex has unraveled as a shoujo series and some its of characters. This was all happening on TikTok so I'll take it with a grain of salt...

The complaint was regarding the series' male lead, Ootani Atsushi, and especially his behavior towards the female lead, Koizumi Risa.

(Could be) Spoilers!

Lovely Complex (also shortened as Love Com) is exactly what you'd think it is; a rom com series. The shoujo manga was written by Aya Nakahara and later animated, all happening in the early 2000's.

The series tries its best to capture the relationship between 1.72 cm tall Koizumi Risa and 1.56 cm tall Ootani Atsushi. The heights bring sorrow to their every day life already. No one sees Risa as a girl and Ootani, as a boy. Although something changes when they sit next to each other.

They start off as friends, naturally. Their friendship seems to be genuine as they share a big interest in the same artist, Umibozu. They go to concerts together and talk to each other about this quite a lot. However what makes them so popular, even at school, is their fights (and trust me, there are lots of them). They call each other insults and names, they make fun of each other's heights and misfortune in love. It's their thing whether it's mean or not.

Somehow Risa develops feelings for Ootani and she rapidly confesses to him. However Ootani can't seem to get over their height difference and tells her the truth; for now the feelings are not reciprocated. Risa doesn't give up on Ootani and for the rest of the series, she fights to receive Ootani's love...which she does.

To people's surprise (and i mean the readers/ viewers), Risa and Ootani's fights never went away. Even after Ootani learns about Risa's feelings, he doesn't change a bit and he sometimes even teases her for the crush. What people seem to miss is that Risa doesn't change that much towards Ootani either. But I suppose that was the key to Ootani's heart. If Risa had changed and became someone "more to Ootani's liking", he would have never ended up falling for her as hard as he had. And same goes for Ootani since Risa fell in love with him as he was from the start.

People are quick and mostly eager to judge. Nothing will be enough or well done. In this case, poeple were just as quick to label Ootani as 'annoying' and 'toxic'.

Is he annoying? Personally, he reminds me of my boyfriend and he's truly dear to me as a character so no, he's not annoying at all. He can be for you! But is he toxic? Let's talk about it!

First and foremost, it all comes down to the fights and the name-calling so we'll talk about this aspect first. It's true that fighting, name-calling, insults are NOT a 'love language' and they aren't 'cute' or 'aesthetic' either. They should never be romanticized. But is it toxic in this scenario? I don't see it as such. They're teenagers, they're new to the concept of love and relationships and especially to such a 'taboo' height difference. They insult each other as a defense mechanism to all the years they've spent being insecure about their heights. They grow and learn together, as we see later in the manga, they learn to love each other and themselves together with their heights. They accept it and that's when the fights die down. I could not call this 'toxicity'.

But what was upsetting to see was this supposed 'toxicity' being label as Ootani's doing. Mind you that they both fight, argue and insult. People tend to pity Risa for having to fight so hard for Ootani's love, but I find Ootani's refusal respectful towards Risa. He knew there was a gap in the intensity of their feelings so he never gave up on Risa and her feelings. Even when Risa was about to lose all faith, he was the one to bring her back on track. There were moments when Ootani believed more in them than Risa had. He loved her, he just wanted to love her enough and appropriately.

Ootani is a prime example of 'fragile masculinity' which is in fact not the same as 'toxic masculinity'. Ootani is insecure about his height, that'a a given. He gets defensive when Risa makes fun of him and feels upset when others don't take him seriously. And funny enough, Risa does the same.

I don't think Ootani is in the case of having 'toxic masculinity', especially since he's had no problem dating the girl who makes fun of him the most about his biggest insecurity who is also tree heads taller than him. And not only did he date her, but he loved her, in his weird gremlin way, but he cherished her.

What is your opinion about this? Is Ootani really a bad-written character or are people just never going to be satisfied with the content they're being provided?

[tenderhungering]

howdy howdy!!! do u have any thoughts on jack’s background? I think it’s really interesting the few tidbits we have (Illinois Boy™️, the Oh Calcutta story, getting his start in radio) + in the case of those first two its like. clearly been told time and time again for an audience. or if you’d prefer something else any thoughts on minnie 🙏😭 haunting the narrative icon

hello hello ! i so wish we’d gotten a little bit more about him but i’ve always imagined jack as being a little more introverted in his younger years? i think he really enjoys validation and this is such a difficult thing to achieve as someone as slightly awkward as jack. (don’t know why. maybe i just enjoy pathetic men but his blushing at naked bodies and his little “oh! not my chair!” has always made me feel like he has had to build up this persona he has made for himself) charming and quick-witted but very easily crumbles whenever he’s in an uncomfortable position (he seems to almost dissociate often?)

i think he might’ve been in some sort of college radio and broadcast (i’ve discussed this with a friend before!), and he was just so happy to build an audience. there’s no mention of his parents (my memory is foggy!) so part of me thinks that they’re either not in the picture or he’s lost them? so you know,,, mommy and daddy issues galore despite either one. maybe even one of them didn’t think being someone on television would maintain a steady flow of income. regardless, it might make him more interested in gaining that connection with the audience, getting validated for his feelings. getting praise for it. no you’re so cool please continue to make your show! i’m such a big fan!

he doesn’t know who is there for him as Mr. Midnight and who is there for him Jack Delroy so he blurs the line and vents to his audience, looks at the camera with every intention to impress.

i imagine meeting minnie was very sweet though. they were both sort of up and coming and it’s nice to have someone who understands that struggle! i imagine minnie being in theatre makes her the more extroverted out of the two ! (she was the one sharing stories and jack getting shy about them!), but also a lot more open about her emotions. jack seems like someone who keeps to himself and doesn’t quite understand how to communicate well (he does hide a lot from others when they ask what’s going on. might just be that 70s toxic masculinity upbringing that makes him unable to express these,, daddy issues? who knows!)

i do fully believe he loved her though! younger jack probably never dreamed of finding a girl like minnie. maybe a bit of idealization for her occurred earlier on but minnie was so fresh and bright and full of life even during her time spent ill that i always thought she just good humor and a knack for just being naturally talented at the arts.

which is a big difference between the two! minnie just had that spark of life, she was always going to end up being someone big, she knew how to capture a room. jack was awkward and had to find his voice, he had to learn what people liked, what good jokes landed and how to deliver them, he had to work hard (and i don’t mean this as minnie not working hard! jack just had to work to become this persona while minnie was able to become her characters almost immediately, she’s able to understand their emotions and feel for them immediately. i think it makes her a much more empathetic person while jack is a lot more sympathetic. jack needs to be verbally told what people are feeling which might be why ratings are so comforting. they’re either good or bad! they’re easy to read.) and become who we know as Mr. Midnight. something of an artist obsessed with not their craft but what their craft will mean to others

sorry if this wasn’t exactly background stuff pfft! i more so focused on how their personalities were! i do think that minnie was possibly in dance, and has that ability to be able to play a song after she hears it on time on the piano. i think she has to teach jack how to pick up on it though, he’s sort of stumbling and his keys are sour baha. he probably used to stay up late studying little mannerisms talk shows had. i think he has a natural charm to him but that charm is a lot more meek than what we see? i love them both dearly,,,

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

Round One

House Greyjoy (A Song Of Ice And Fire) VS the Ushiromiya family (Umineko When They Cry)

House Greyjoy

Members: Balon, Asha, Theon, Aeron, Victarion, Euron

Propaganda:

CW: rape, murder, sexual abuse

"The ruling family of a culture of toxic masculinity. When Theon arrives after 10 years of being a hostage, he hits on his sister Asha, but it's not really his fault, because she wanted to judge his character and if he respects women (he doesn't), so she didn't tell him who she is. Balon expects both of his children including the daughter to perform toxic masculinity and gets mad at Theon for being far away after he himself handed him over as well for buying jewelry instead stealing it from corpses of people he kills because buying is for wimps, which leads to Theon to capturing a castle he cannot hold, commiting some war crimes and then getting tortured, mutilated and drastically abused for a long period of time. Asha meanwhile had to run because her uncle Euron returned after being banished (for seducing or raping, it was unclear, his brother Victarion's wife which led to Victarion "having" to beat her to death to preserve his honor) won king elections against her. He gave her hand to a seal. There's also her uncle Aeron who is a religious fanatic, but also deep inside running away from his childhood trauma consisting of Euron molesting him."

The Ushiromiya family

Members: Kinzo, Krauss, Eva, Rudolf, Rosa, Jessica, George, Battler, Ange, Maria, Natsuhi, Hideyoshi, Asumu, Kyrie

Propaganda:

"PEAK weird family drama. Fighting over the inheritance leads to multiple people dying in gruesome ways" "The whole plot of the game is that they all are so dysfunctional it would make sense for any of them to commit murder" "The Rokkenjima Mass Murders would not have happened to a functional family" "The parents claw at each others' throats for a vast family inheritance, the kids/cousins fool around, and then they all murder each other/get murdered" More propaganda here

[jellybeanium124]

but like izzy was some kind of suicidal tho. I've made a post about this before. izzy and ed's arcs both included "attempts to kill themselves" on it but that doesn't mean they're the same arc.

ed: spend whole life being told you're a monster -> get depressed -> meet a guy who changes everything -> for the first time you have a friend?? maybe you're not a monster??? -> kiss guy -> guy abandons you, seemingly because you are not presenting the level of masculinity you used to -> go home and cry about it -> get a pep talk -> decide that life moves on and it's time to clean up -> your henchman/father figure/abuser tells you if you don't man up now he's gonna kill you -> you are still in a delicate place and this is the straw the breaks the camel's back -> you are a monster and they should kill you -> try for 3 months to get someone to kill you -> give your henchman a gun so he can kill you -> he refuses to put you out of your misery and laughs about it -> sail your ship into a storm and finally get the crew to kill you -> finally... -> oops you're in purgatory now -> saved by the guy you thought abandoned you -> healing arc

izzy: work for the coolest best pirate ever -> at some point he stops being as cool and manly and powerful as he's supposed to be -> half-consciously spend years abusing him while deluding yourself into thinking that this is actually out of caring for (loving?) him -> you meet a dumb fucking guy in the woods -> boss becomes intrigued with the idiot -> capture a boat -> your boss is acting less like "himself" than ever -> call the cops to get your boss back -> he leaves you anyways for the idiot -> alright whatever you're captain now which is what you really wanted -> that doesn't last long -> boss comes back, without idiot -> well hopefully things can return to the status quo? -> they don't -> this is unacceptable -> helpfully inform your boss if he doesn't masc up and fly right you're gonna kill him -> he does what you ask for -> yay yippee! -> wait actually this is kinda bad -> this isn't what you wanted -> you refuse to take the blame -> he shoots you -> you are now missing a leg making you weak and pointless in your own worldview -> he gives you a gun so you can shoot him -> you refuse to do his dirty work anymore -> he leaves you with the gun -> you are a sick worthless dog who has failed at every turn and now cannot even do your job -> you shoot yourself -> somehow that doesn't work -> ok the idiot and his band of morons return and you're still alive for some fucking reason -> you drink to cope -> you hate your life -> still don't really wanna be around here anymore -> you have no place here -> the crew sees you struggling and reaches out to tell you that you did still have a place here -> healing arc

ok what are the overlaps here in these arcs despite obvious or unrelated shit like "they're both pirates:"

try to kill themselves

use alcohol to self medicate

get better in the end

their reasons aren't even the same!! ed feels like he is a monster who doesn't deserve to live. izzy feels devoid of value. these things are sorta similar in that they both lead to the same conclusion, but as suicidal motivations they are completely distinct and reflect the character's particular worldview.

ed's been told his whole life he doesn't deserve good things, and that he's a violent monster. we never see him be all that concerned with creating value in a protestant work ethic kind of way. he just isn't like that.

izzy's spent his whole life believing in a hierarchy and trying to grab the most power he possibly can. this worldview is sexist and ableist, and when he believes he can no longer hold a position of power, his view of himself crumbles and he has nothing to live for. izzy doesn't think of himself as a monster who doesn't deserve nice things. killing and violence just aren't issues on his radar he's getting worked up about. and he's clearly not in it for money or treasure (not that he doesn't like money), he's in it for power (which can be bought with money). power is what drives him. having nice things doesn't even occur to him as something to want. not even ostensibly masculine nice things.

canyoners absolutely do give izzy ed's character arc while villainizing ed. but being suicidal at some point is one of the few points their arcs have in common. of course, the nature of how they are suicidal is completely different. but a person who isn't suicidal does not shoot themself in the head.