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1moreoffkeyanthem · 1 year ago

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because i am sad, don't have my nina meds and have the personality of tissue paper rn, will you take pity on me, pretty girl, and pray tell what the locations look like in ur fics? like how you imagine south park looks, maybe stan and kyle's old bed rooms, the sp survivor haus? starks pond, the vibes and stuff -- you can be as hyper specific as you want i really like detail and visualizing things <3 also you

Melda Tâe I sincerely hope this is a bright spot in the Sadsack!!! This is such a great ask too like what does the HWB elven palace look like? The train station in WGSIES? The Broken Bottle Quartet apt complex? Heidi’s coffee shop in ATLCTS? The bistro where ojv Craig and Kyle have Nerd Boy Time? The TWITR bunkhouse?

And I’ve said on multiple occasions that I suck an unfathomable amount of ass at actually putting setting descriptions into my fics. Not because I’m picturing scenes playing out in a blank void, or bc I’m not picturing things clearly, but 1) I fully convince myself that no one wants to read my boring drawn out descriptions, which is stupid and I’m aware of that bc I LOVEEEEE vivid imagery when I’m reading 2) I often forget that no one is envisioning what I am without visual explanations lmfao it’s just so There to me I forget my readers don’t live in my cursed brain 3) I have such a habit of getting too into Witty Banter™️ and I’ll write so much dialogue with the occasional action and realize I haven’t said shit about what the setting looks like

But boy oh boy do I have specific pictures in mind! Especially regarding settings. (God I need to make a fuckin Pinterest omg the OJV board alone would go stupid)

I’m gonna be so fuckin fr right now, I have way too many AU’s and I will be unhinged abt a lot of them, so, below the cut!

So, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I’m starting with the OrangeJuiceVerse!

That bizarre town our kids grew up in is very typical suburbia, with neatly arranged near identical houses and blacktop roads that the snow plow goes through the same time every morning. Downtown holds the major businesses and across the tracks, not even a block over from the main neighborhoods, is the handful of “ghetto” houses, right by the woods. And through those woods, with a small single lane street that is far too narrow and winding to be safe? Stark’s Pond. The clearing in the tree canopy that the parking lot provides is the best stargazing spot, far enough away from the minimal light pollution that a tiny mountain town emits. It’s not just a pond, more of a park, with a field next to the water that’s a well traversed snowball fight battleground and a single bench under an ancient oak tree. The pond freezes and that’s how you know winter is truly underway. Kids slipping and sliding on the ice with no adult supervision is the standard here. In the summer, the water is still so cold, fed by mountain runoff. The surrounding shore is rocky and the m5 regularly compete to see who can find the coolest stone in the gravel.

There’s an elementary school, middle school, and high school, all in the same block and sharing a parking lot. Makes it easy for bus drivers and parents dropping off their kids. The high school is WAY bigger than is warranted for how small the town is, and there’s a separate building for band and av club. The football “stadium” isn’t much, the bleachers are only a few rows high and the field house is little more than a locker room, the concession stand is tiny and only run by student council members, and the cow painted into the turf over the 50 yrd line is lopsided. The gym where pep rallies and volleyball and basketball games are held has better seating, but football is a big damn deal in sp and the whole town is crowded around the track fence if they don’t get a seat, cheering on the hometown boys on cold October nights with nothing but fireball and ridiculous amounts of school spirit in their systems.

Stan and Kyle practically live at each others houses growing up. They each have a “Super Best Sleepover Drawer” in the others rooms and when they were younger and still the same size? No one could tell who actually owned what clothing. Like, y’all dear god you are more intertwined than your fingers holding hands. Stan’s room is a messsssss! Especially when he’s not doing well mentally. And he holds on to every stray item so his dusty shelves are cluttered as hell. His pillows are flat as shit. Nothing in his closet has been folded properly in years. The only organized thing in that room is the record collection, the sheet music folder, and the dnd character breakdown. Kyle has stress cleaned Stan’s room before. And (think You Belong With Me music video) THEIR WINDOWS FACE EACH OTHER!!! Kyle’s room has so much of the same kind of decor as Stan’s, with the posters and the figurines and the wall of nostalgic Polaroids, but he’s so much more organized. Both the boys have Kenny Paintings, (Stan is the one mentioned in this and Kyle’s is one of him as the elf king when they’d play as youngsters) and Kyle’s is hung level on the wall and Stan has his propped on his desk.

Ohhhh man the SP Survivor Safehouse, I described it some here and it really is such a College Kid House!!! They found the cheapest place to rent close to campus that would fit the 5, and it’s a SHITHOLE! It’s old as fuck and falling apart, the foundation is crooked, the blueprint must’ve been drawn by someone with severe distraction problems because for a place that’s not all that big, it’s labyrinthine in its random layout and the out of place way too high to reach ledges and the fireplace but no chimney and the ridiculousness of the narrow backyard, doing laundry in that house is a NIGHTMARE like the washer is downstairs and the dryer is in a separate room upstairs that logistically should be a bathroom. The kitchen tile is so old and cracked, and there’s this weird half wall facing the living room with a window? Also the walls are thin as hell and that staircase? Good god. Steep as fuck, tilted to the left, no railing, everyone has fallen on the Widowmakers multiple times. The garage door doesn’t work. The water heater is older than god. But this is their house, and they make it work.

I also want to describe the waterfall from How We Began, as specific and random as that is lmao. Think Multinoma Falls in Oregon, with a long trail to the top and no man made bridge over it. And it freezes like that one waterfall in narnia. Completely solid, snow and frosted trees on both sides at the summit, just the perfect place to meditate and reflect, because the reflection off the ice is like a rippled mirror. (Actually and so fr I need art of chapter 12 so bad rip) that place is BEAUTIFUL with the mountains in the background, the icicles refracting light, pine trees with needles dusted with snow, large rocks overlooking the edge of the cliff and the forest surrounding it!!!

Oh damn also the Big House in The Webs In The Rafters is the most eerie looking house of all time. At the end of that twisting gravel drive, to the left of the western pasture, sits this giant black mansion. It looks wayyyy too gothic to be on a ranch. And most of the rooms are unused, that place feels cold and dark even when the farmhands are in for dinner at that huge table in the dining room. The upstairs office has all these strange carvings in the wooden walls, Craig’s massive granite desk is right in front of the window that sees the whole front part of the land. And both that house and the bunkhouse are ancient as the “haven” itself. The walls have crawlspaces big enough for a full grown person to fit in. Like there’s a maze in the walls. The upper pasture isn’t visible from the master bedroom at the back of the top floor, and there’s a tree by the pond that Butters’ ducks live in that’s the first thing the morning light touches. That spot, where Ken and butters had their first kiss in chapter 16, is the only place that doesn’t feel stifling on the entire land.

Dude the haunted house in In The Truly Gruesome! It is legit the most cheesy haunted house of all time, set up in what is essentially a double wide trailer, no bathroom, no kitchen, barely a tiny breakroom at the back, the decor is the cheapest spirit Halloween shit imaginable and just lame shit like a bowl of peeled grapes that are supposed to feel like eyeballs in the mad scientist area. That front office with its plywood walls and plastic door is the most unromantic setting for a love confession, but Stan and Kyle made it work. The breakroom “furniture” is a random hodgepodge of booths from a closed McDonald’s and tables someone found on the side of the street. The mini fridge has nothing in there but a moldy jar of pizza sauce and a single half drank mellow yellow. This place is absurd. I love it.

AND I loved this ask! You always send me such great things my beloved omg never stop! <3

#this took longer than it should have #because I thought about Hades!Craig and got distracted reading WGSIES #and then i cried #because that fic is sad as hell #also I’m a pussy #but yeah #asks #south park #headcanon #fic writing #au’s #scene descriptions #my shit #OrangeJuiceVerse #other works #style #them

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mbti-notes · 1 year ago

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Anon wrote: Hi there, and Happy Holidays! I hope you’re doing well. I’m having trouble determining my type - I’m currently torn between INFP and INFJ. You seem very well-informed on Jung’s theory, so I’d like to ask for a type assessment from you. My main conflict is what feeling function I use.

For extra info, I’m 21F. I have ADHD-PI, social anxiety and depression, as well as some trauma, which may affect how I present myself as well as my level of health. I think, regardless of which functions I use, I use them in an unhealthy manner. It’s also worth noting that I don’t have a lot of life experience due to a sheltered upbringing (over-protective parents and relatively lavish home life meant that I never felt the need to demand much from the outside world).

INFP:

Dominant Fi:

I do have a one-sidedness when it comes to my values (if you could call them that, I’m really not sure), deeming types of hobbies, fashion, ambitions, and as such subsets of people as superior or inferior depending on what I think of them. My judgment affects how I see others in a big way. For example, I’ll judge people for dressing in a way I perceive to be “lazy”, because “do they not realise how they look to other people?”. Then, I’ll assume that they’re not associating with beyond common courtesy. Obviously, I know this line of thinking could seem haughty of me, so I don’t express this to others.

I place a lot of value on sophistication, intellect and manners, and expect the same of everyone else as well. My values mostly revolve around my expectations of how people should behave. I’m easily disappointed when I fail to notice these values in others, because my perspectives are based on what I truly believe is best for humanity at large. I recognise that this could be seen as imposing, and I never directly call people out for behaviour I dislike - I would rather persuade them to my side diplomatically.

I’ll be honest, the main reason I believe my feeling process to be introverted is the fact that I just can’t connect to my country’s culture, and it makes me resent it. It’s so heavily focused on everything I have no interest in; drinking, sport, nights out, TV. There’s a worrying amount of anti-intellectualism beginning to prevail too. It bothers me to the point that I want to emigrate, just so I can find likeminded people elsewhere. As such, I have difficulty seeing any values I hold as objective (as much as I wish for them to be universal), when I’m so disconnected from the objective world around me.

Inferior Te:

I lack the fundamental ability to implement solid solutions to my problems. I’m generally very inefficient and dependent on others to help me with this, such as homework in the past or filling in applications. I do struggle to fathom how people navigate the business world and the likes so seamlessly, and I often find myself admiring their ruthless nature. This is probably because my lack of natural assertion has led to problems within my personal life.

I become extremely cold and judgmental under stress, and only care about myself. I tend to self-centredly blame everyone but myself for the issues in the world, including me not being able to identify with those around me, and desperately want to “correct” them. This could be construed as black-and-white thinking in terms of morality. I rely on external standards to amplify my self-image, such as high grades in the past. Despite my coldness, I can flip to being ridiculously sensitive when someone makes me feel inadequate or beneath them, and it can lead to me being snappy with others.

Auxilary Ne:

I believe I use Ne as an escape from the world. I’ll often turn to fantasy as a way to cope. I have used this to procrastinate more pressing issues that I didn’t want to deal with, preferring to live in my daydreams where everything is easier. While I do have very complex worlds in my head, this can be enriched by things outside of it too. For example, I’ll admire the dynamics of a friendship group in a show, and wish for that for myself. So, I form an ideal group in my mind. This serves as a double-edged sword, because while it can be meaningful inspiration for me to implement in reality, it can also lead to bitter disappointment if these ideals can’t be realised.

However, Ne can cause larger issues than just procrastination. I will envision only negative outcomes to situations, leading to complete inaction. Eventually I lose hope altogether, thinking there’s nothing in the future for me, and reject the world altogether. My mind becomes more narrow, only choosing to stick to very specific situations and trains of thought.

I often turn to external forms such as music to identify my feelings, seeking to find myself within the feelings and expressions of others. I then wish to embody the images I find within the song, in hopes that I can discover my identity that way. This also gives me the opportunity to explore different perspectives, which can often help liberate my typical one-sidedness.

Tertiary Si:

In terms of Si loop, this tends to manifest in the form of craving my childhood back. I wish I could lose the responsibility on my shoulders and just go back to playing imaginary games and being completely oblivious to the world.

I also have a tendency to become closed-minded, immediately shutting out other people’s ideas that don’t “fit” in my own head. I would rather take no action at all than risk making the wrong move, because the regret would just be paralysing. My past experiences tend to drastically influence how I perceive things, and it’s difficult for me to wrap my head around how someone can see things so differently to how I do. As such, I cling onto my perceptions of the world heavily.

INFJ:

Dominant Ni:

I have always been known as an idealist, and someone that lives in my head. My mind was always my escape from the harshness of reality. Ever since I was young, I’ve developed deeply personal mental images and narratives, and purpose has been my driving force. When I was a child, I had myself fully convinced for years that I was a fairy queen doomed to live inside a human husk to test my fortitude for my “kingdom’s” sake. Even now, I always need to have some sort of abstract ideal propelling me forward.

The future has always been my main priority in life. Even if I don’t have a concrete idea of my life’s trajectory, I always know if something does or doesn’t fit into it. Others around me have complimented my insightfulness and my ability to predict what will eventually become of a situation. This can be anything from the plot of a story, to a relationship, generally anything can lead my mind to spiral towards a single-minded prediction.

However, this has been a large source of pain and isolation throughout my life. When I’m at my lowest, I make sweeping generalisations such as “everything is meaningless”, “everyone is so boring”, “every form of media I consume is shallow”. It makes me feel self-conscious, wondering if my expectations are too high, but I can’t seem to let go of my ideals regardless. I’ve been noted as a very detached person, taking my inner world too seriously.

Inferior Se:

The mundane has never interested me. I’ve never taken the world at face value, which does lead to warped perceptions and dashed expectations at times. I honestly tend to look down on those that exhibit more impulsive, hedonistic traits. I’ve been told that I need to “let loose” more, but I just can’t fathom doing that. I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be in full control of themselves and their presentation at all times. I can’t envision my life or the world without meaning, and as such, I unconsciously reject anything I deem surface-level or crass. This does tend to overlap with typical Se traits.

However, there are times where I fall into Se traits during stress. I blurt out things I don’t mean to say, hyper-focus on insignificant details to the point that I lose sleep, and indulge myself needlessly in sensory pleasures, such as food, or deliberately delve into more shallow forms of communication, such as social media. A lot of the time, I obsessively seek out people or outside circumstances that prove my personal narrative about a concept, in a way to prove it to both myself and others. I expect and take from the world, but ultimately provide nothing.

Auxilary Fe:

As probably highlighted in my Fi section, I do exhibit some resistant behaviours towards Fe. Generally, any area will come with stereotypes of those that live there, and I don’t fit that mould at all. I’m quiet, prudent and abstract-minded in comparison to what’s expected. It’s a complicated experience for me, because as much as I resist what a lot of common behaviours represent, another part of me wants to beat myself up relentlessly for not fitting in perfectly. I often hope that I’m just viewing people negatively and tarring everyone with the same brush, so I will find my crowd eventually. I have never once rejected the concept of following objective values - if anything, it appeals to me greatly. I just think I have been extremely unlucky with the ones I’m expected to follow. Rather than following a greater purpose or meaningful relationship, I feel stuck in the monotony of my home.

Honestly, my default state is still to go along with everyone else’s wishes and forget my own feelings. It got to the point where I questioned if I could feel at all sometimes, and I’d lose my sense of identity altogether. I can’t bear any kind of conflict and I’m always trying to harmonise with those around me. The resentment I mentioned has only blossomed within the last few months, when I realised that the environment can’t always play to my preferences and strengths. It came to me like a flash of lightning. I often find myself wishing I could “unsee” the issues that led me to this constant frustration, so I could lose myself again and just comply. At least that sort of mindset could be seen as romantic or pitiful - my feelings now are just pure pettiness, and deliberately targeted at those I seek validation from.

I adjust my behaviour quite a bit to suit the emotional atmosphere, both to avoid exposure and to be seen in a positive light. I know what I can and can’t express, maintain etiquette, and try to carry myself well. As well as adjusting, though, I do try to have some sort of influence and warp the atmosphere to suit myself as well. I always strive to be a positive influence on others, and tend to view myself in the light that I want to be seen by the world at large. This is all in the hopes that eventually, I’ll be recognised by everyone as the ideal I’m trying to live up to, and others will follow in my footsteps.

I’m ridiculously sensitive to any form of criticism or rejection, and isolate myself often to protect myself. Any negative comment made towards me, even someone looking at me the wrong way, can completely throw me off and ruin my self-perception. This is amplified tenfold when around new people - I’m extremely self-conscious and try to come across as almost too perfect.

Tertiary Ti:

I see detached analysis as a comfort, in a strange way. The relief that comes with being able to detach and let go of emotional baggage is therapeutic for me. However, when I do use Ti to navigate my emotional life, it tends to take the form of rationalising my feelings, figuring out why I feel a certain way before I can accept it and express it to others. Naturally, this line of thinking extends to how I work around other people’s feelings, too.

However, I believe I can use Ti in an unhealthy manner too. When I detach from the emotional realm too much, this can quickly lead me to a misanthropic and cynical worldview. I tell myself that nobody is worth engaging with because they won’t understand, let alone accept, what’s going on in my head. I flip between desperately wanting to be loved and questioning why, when I can only think negatively of people.

I acknowledge that my logic can be flawed, but it’s hard to grasp that in the moment. It really throws me off when someone points out holes in my logic, though - even if I know I’m wrong deep down, I will often cling to my way of thinking just for the sake of it.

Any insight would be immensely helpful, I hope I followed your instructions well enough. Thanks so much if you read all of this.

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You're really pulling and stretching at the INFP functions to try to make them fit and even ignoring strong counter-evidence, whereas the INFJ functions are a much more natural fit. You seem to have a long journey of function development ahead of you but I believe Ni+Fe lie at the heart of the project rather than Fi+Ne. As such, I would conclude your type is INFJ with a high degree of confidence.

#ask #assessment

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roseblushfemme · 6 months ago

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i’ve been behaving badly lately (for a while, actually) with a lot of resistance, attitude and overall disrespect for Sir and our relationship dynamic. i have been deciding that i know what i need and just acting out in a way that is undesirable to Sir (and myself when we started our relationship), like touching whenever i want because the need gets to be too much, or touching as a way to self soothe instead of communicating to Sir what i’m feeling and asking for what i might need and trusting Her to do what’s best. there are other things, but they’re all related to the same attitude of “i don’t trust you to do what’s best, so i will just do whatever i want and then be upset at you for not meeting the needs i never shared” (ouch).

we had a hard conversation about it this week and i’ve been scrolling pretty far back in my blog to remember why we started with a d/s dynamic and remind myself of what i’ve always wanted and i just don’t know how i got so far away from the person i was when being Her sub came so much easier. i think i closed that part of myself off for a while as a defence mechanism and just got so lost and far away from it that reconnecting to it is hard. my natural response to everything is to dig my heels in and push back harder and then shut down but i don’t want to be that version of myself. for so many reasons, but especially because it’s damaged mine and Sir’s relationship and it’s straight up exhausting for me to constantly react that way. that was such a big reason that i sought out a d/s dynamic and part of what made me so attracted to Sir in the beginning was Her no bullshit will be tolerated attitude. She demanded obedience and compliance and i clung to Her because growing up, i was always missing the authority figure who would hold me accountable (gently) and would provide guidance in confusing or difficult times. i grew up feeling very alone in the world and like i never, ever fit anywhere (i still feel this sometimes) and i felt like i had to constantly be ready to defend and protect myself (a way of thinking i’ve fallen back into over the last year) and that doesn’t serve me or our relationship. it makes me very hard to get along with and very quick to harshly judge others for not meeting ridiculously high standards i set for myself (and don’t even meet).

i don’t know how i didn’t see this drastic change in my behaviour and attitude over the last year until this past week, when we had to have a hard conversation for the sake of the longevity of our relationship and marriage. i’m not even sure what chain of circumstances triggered this switch for me but it feels very icky and i want to snap out of it. i have an appointment with a new therapist next week and we have a trip overseas in a couple of weeks. i am determined to find the softer version of myself and lean in to her again and be a wife that Sir is proud of. the wife that She has put so much work into over the years to sculpt and train. i will defer to Her more and sit with the discomfort of not getting what i want in each moment, because i trust Her to do what’s best. i will surrender more to re-strengthen our connection and earn back Her intimate displays of dominance.

surrender more, trust more freely, find acceptance in discomfort.

#flowersrambles #d/s love #d/s relationship #d/s lifestyle #d/s dynamic #self reflection #🔒#for Sir

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luciivstheworld · 1 year ago

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blog entry 002

October is always a hard month for me. I don’t know what that’s about. I have never had an objectively “good” October, at least in recent memory. And it’s not that things are outright terrible, it’s just that at this point I’m exhausted. I’m ready for Christmas. No, not even Christmas. I’m ready for the next year to start…

I was debating on going to homecoming next month because

1. I’ve never been, and

2. I’m a junior, so there’s not many homecomings left.

And I’ve REALLY been up and down about it. To give you an example, let’s talk about what I did last Friday.

Around noon I started to search for dresses online. At least to get an idea of what might be out there. Man oh man. Unless I want all of my assets (if you know what I mean) to be falling out of the dress, I am completely out of luck. Even looking at the dresses of my peers I’m completely shocked as to what I’m finding. Where is the mystery? Where is the modesty? I’m not a prude but come on you guys. As if I need any more reason to feel completely alienated from my peers, now I have to embark on the already stressful task of figuring out a dress that’s “cute” and “trendy” (whatever that means) that I also feel comfortable in. I’m also 5 feet tall on the dot, which is an additional challenge in and of itself.

Not to mention the fact that I’d be going by myself. And the worst part is I’ve honestly tried to scramble to find somebody to go with. I’ve asked, I’ve rallied, I’ve hinted, I’ve outright commanded (jokingly), and somehow nobody was interested in the prospect. And this would all be fine if there were at least some other acquaintances I liked that were going, but NOOOOOOOOO! A lot of the people that are going absolutely do not like me. So much so, that they have previously gone out of their way to make me feel like trash. How would homecoming be any different?

And maybe you’re thinking, “Gosh Luci, why don’t these people like you?” Which is a great question. Wanna know why? Because I don’t want to feed into their petty and demeaning teenage drama! This all further reiterates that I am just not built for young adult society. So what if I don’t want to engage in the dating scene, the gossip, or the exhaustive partying that gets romanticized? Well, that’s a criminal offense according to the high school rule book. A felony, actually. And the ruling is that if you don’t abide by such things, you will be subject to constant harassment and become a social leper.

Okay, maybe I’m being a little over-dramatic. But it’s all (mostly) true! So why do I still want to go to homecoming despite all the reasons why I feel anxious? It’s a little thing we call,

* FOMO *

I don’t want to hold myself back because of this weird perceived notion that because I don’t abide by certain ridiculous social standards, I can’t let loose and have fun. Like I said earlier, there are only so many homecomings left. But how can I let loose and have fun if I’m standing alone, in an itchy short dress, while being harassed by people I don’t like? Maybe I shouldn’t go.

Hey, there’s always next year right?

#blog #blogging #teenagering #word vomit

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himadrics · 1 year ago

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ઈલા [Ila]

(My Feminist Commentary Part - 2/5)

"છોકરીની જાત ને આટલો બધો તંત! છાયલી આને કાબૂમાં રાખ, નહીતર આને સાસરે કોઈ નઈ સંઘરે. આવી મોટી ભાઈ સાથે સરખામણી કરવાવાળી! સ્ત્રી ક્યારેય પુરુષ સમોવડી હોય જ નહીં. સમજી?"

Translation: "So much drama for a girl! Chhaya, keep her under control, otherwise, her in-laws won't keep her. Stop comparing yourself to your brother! A woman can never be an equal to a man. Do you understand?"

said my loving grandmother, બા [Ba], to put an end to my ongoing argument with my mother. I was fifteen years old and protesting against my mother's leniency towards making my brother do chores. He was rarely asked to help with cooking or cleaning, while I was expected to assist with these tasks regularly.

It is a common practice in Indian households to teach daughters to do chores from an early age, while sons are often not expected to contribute. The daughters are expected to contribute to the chores every day, while no such expectation exists for the sons. My mother taught chores to both me and my brother. However, she did not expect my brother to do much, while holding me to a stricter standard. As a result, my brother often got away without doing the chores, and I had to do more. It was quite upsetting for me to find myself busy doing boring chores like washing dishes while my brother got to play. So my protests for an equal distribution of chores between my brother and me were a daily occurrence during my teenage years.

My protests always put me in great conflict with બા, who found them ridiculous. She held a strong opinion that I should drop the silly idea of perceiving myself as an equal to my brother and highly criticized all my attempts at arguing with my parents to teach me obedience. She once scolded me for questioning my father's decision about my bedtime, telling me that a good girl never talks back to her elders. She strongly believed that it was absolutely necessary for a woman to be obedient.

Despite બા's strong criticism of my feminist ideas, she and I were quite close when I was in high school. I needed to study for the 10th Board exams, but I wasn't the most disciplined student. Both of my parents worked full-time, so બા came to live with us to ensure that I spent enough time studying with guidance and support. I remember her making me delicious snacks to keep my energy up during long study sessions and quizzing me on my lessons every evening.

બા and I soon became best buddies. My study breaks became our story time, and the kitchen became our laboratory. She introduced me to the film and folk music of her time, which I listen to till date. We discussed all kinds of things: puberty-related changes in my body, menstrual products, home remedies for skincare, and hair oil. બા eagerly listened to my stories about school and my friends. બા also shared stories about her childhood, her school, her early life, and her sisters. We often talked about the culture of marriages in India and analyzed her marriage and my parents' marriage in great detail. બા also taught me how to do banking, how to make ભાખરી (Gujarati pancakes), and how to braid my hair.

બા always kept a diary, and it was a delight to watch her searching for her glasses when she wanted to write. She also loved reading, fiction in particular. She inspired me to start writing by gifting me a new diary. I also got interested in reading fiction because of her. It is thanks to her openness, her great storytelling, and her diaries that I got to know more about the lives of women of her generation. She shared stories of her own struggles with societal expectations and the quiet ways in which women of her time found strength and resilience.

To understand her perspective, it's important to consider the context of her upbringing. Born in 1946, બા grew up in Independent India. She also saw the country being led by a woman prime minister. બા's mother was illiterate, and her father was the sole breadwinner in the family of seven. બા was the oldest among the four sisters. She also had an elder brother, who was considered the authority in the family after their father. બા started working as an elementary school teacher after finishing high school. She never attended college. At the age of 20, she got married to my grandfather, બાપુજી [Bapuji], who was pursuing his master's at the time. The marriage was arranged by their parents. It is important to note that બા entered the marriage as a literate and working woman capable of contributing to her children's education and the family's economy.

બા's life was quite difficult and restricted after getting married. She did not have easy access to hygienic menstrual products or birth control. She was expected to obey her in-laws. Her mother-in-law was illiterate and highly critical of બા's job. She made life pretty hard for બા for being a working woman, often making snide remarks about her neglecting her household duties.

બાપુજી earned significantly more than બા. So despite having some say in financial matters, બા could never make many decisions on her own. બા received some gold as a gift from her father and her father-in-law at the time of her wedding. But she never legally owned her house. During a stressful time in her marriage, her mother-in-law ordered her to stay at her parents' place and not return to her husband. This stressful time was a turning point in her life. It made her determined to be self-reliant and never quit her job. It also inspired her younger sisters to become self-reliant by getting a job before getting married in case they also ended up with such harsh in-laws.

Despite her strength and resilience, બા faced a prolonged illness in her 30s, and for the time being, her health became the family's priority. But soon after she got better, she went back to putting herself last and taking care of everyone else. Due to her social conditioning, she is convinced that the world belongs to men, and women are not their equals. Due to her own experiences, she is also convinced that pain and sacrifices are part of women's fate. And because whatever little appreciation she received came from taking care of her family, she wholeheartedly believes that a woman's role in the world is to serve the family. She often says that a woman's true happiness lies in the well-being of her husband and children.

બા has three children—a daughter and two sons—and she raised her daughter quite differently from her sons. She tried her best to raise her daughter to become a hardworking, obedient, and resilient woman who could withstand the hardships of womanhood in the men's world. She constantly reminded her daughter of the importance of fulfilling her duties as a wife and mother. And the sons grew up developing a sense of entitlement as men in the men's world, expecting service and obedience from women.

Due to her internalized beliefs, બા never challenged the misogynistic social norms. Instead, she always followed them. As a result, society rewarded her with respect and freedom when she grew older. When I got to know her closely during my high school years, she was already in her 60s. By then, she was a mother-in-law and a grandmother who had started exercising her authority and freedom. She was receiving a pension from her job, which made her financially independent of her children. Her middle-class family had achieved some prosperity, and she even owned some land. She also used to have plenty of free time, which she utilized in listening to the radio, watching TV, reading novels and fiction columns in the newspapers, and writing her diary. So I got to know her as an independent woman who had achieved some financial security and had complete control over her life. She also had a significant say in her family's decision-making. But it is important to note that this freedom and authority came to her in her 60s and never before.

I think that my parents made a good call inviting બા to supervise my studies during those years. She did a great job at dragging me back to my desk every time I was found procrastinating. She was very proud of me when I scored good marks in the board exams. I often overheard her on the phone with relatives, saying things like, "Yes, Muskan got 98/100 in Science and 99/100 in Mathematics. She's such a bright girl! Oh, and did I tell you? She also does the chores and knows how to make ભાખરી!" A cousin of mine had also appeared for the same exam in the same year. She was proud of him as well. However, it annoyed me that she never mentioned my cousin's inability to do the chores or ભાખરી while discussing his score. It felt like my academic achievements were somehow less important because I was also expected to fulfill traditional domestic roles.

બા was also very proud of me when I secured admission in an engineering course, as I was going to be the first woman engineer in the family. She was also very proud when I landed my first job offer, when I enrolled for a master's program, and when I joined a PhD program. After high school, I didn't live with her for a long time until the pandemic. And during the pandemic, it was a delight to find out that she still maintained the same amount of criticism for my feminist ideas :).

બા is now 77 years old, and has some trouble with her eyesight. So she is no longer able to read or write. However, she is still able to watch TV, and operate her smartphone. Her newfound interest is YouTube, and recently, she has also joined WhatsApp. So when not busy with TV, YouTube, or phone calls with her sisters, she keeps a check on people's whereabouts through their WhatsApp stories. She enjoys watching pictures and videos of her grandchildren and their families. And like everyone else, she also gets quite annoyed when the wifi is not working. The smartphone sometimes confuses her, and she accidentally ends up changing some settings. And I enjoyed playing the role of her tech-support during the pandemic.

This article comes with બા's consent to share my view on her condition as a woman. And every sentence has been fact-checked by her personally. She is not a feminist. Till date, she openly criticizes my feminist ideas and tries her best to talk me out of it. She thinks that fighting for feminism makes my life as a woman harder than it already is. It is important to note that despite rejecting most of the feminist ideas, she still managed to push the baseline for women's condition as much as one could within the boundaries of the social norms of her time. Because she lived the life of an educated and working woman, it became obvious for my mother to receive an education and work. She covered the basics, so my mother and I inherited those opportunities without having to fight for it ourselves. I'm grateful for her contributions to our family and the progress she made in her own way.

In case you're wondering if I won that argument about making my brother do chores, I am happy to report that I made considerable progress. However, I didn't succeed completely, and the distribution of chores between me and my brother has never been 50-50. The closest I could come was 60-40 when I stayed at my parents' house during the pandemic. It was still an improvement from the earlier days! However, it was painful to watch બા giving my brother more credit for doing less. And it was also annoying when relatives used to praise him for doing the same boring chores as if he was doing something extraordinary. But alas, we both got to play more or less the same amount of time until બા would scold us for being too loud for her to listen to the dialogues of her favorite TV show! Some things never change, I guess.

#feminism #india #women #indianwomen

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alpaca-lunch02 · 3 years ago

Text

All I Really Want - Chapter 2 - Cornflake Girl

Pairing: Din Djarin and plus-size f!Reader

WC: 5.1k

Rating: T for now. Up to E later.

Summary: You get to know the quirky family that lives in the Razor Crest.

Warnings: Mention of war and death, use of the force, teasing, name-calling, pining, Mando has a crush, inappropriate uses of brewing equipment

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and sharing the beginning of my story! The trajectory of this is starting to solidify and I’m really excited to share it with you. This is unbeta’d, so any mistakes are mine. Please enjoy my butchering of the Mando’a language! Title from Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos.

Chapter 1

_______________

-Earlier-

“If you need anything or have any questions, just ask. I can hear you, too,” Mando’s voice said over the speaker.

“Good to know. I’ll keep my grumblings to myself, then.”

Once Mando’s voice clicked off over the PA, you stared at your tools for a moment, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

‘Holy crap this Mandalorian is trusting me with his helmet and he’s practically naked up in the cockpit and I have to get this absolutely perfect or he's going to kriffing disintegrate me with his Amban rifle. Yep. This is fine. Totally normal.’

You shook out your wrists and took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves. After mishandling the helmet situation back at your market stall, you were determined to make a good second impression.

You opened your toolbox and laid out your kit; the quiet tinkle of tools was soothing. You shrugged on your molo-hemp work apron and wrapped the charcoal grey ties around your back, cinching the waist and keeping the apron tidy and out of your way. Once you had completed your mental checklist and your workstation was situated to your standards, you reached for the helmet to inspect it, riding high on a nervous, giddy excitement to be starting a new project.

Just as the vambraces did, the Mandalorian steel helmet sang in your hands as though it were alive. It immediately warmed to your touch as though the alloy craved contact. You traced your fingers over the clean lines, chasing the feel of the metal, longing to know more.

The inside was a standard duranium shell covered by the beskar plating, and Mando had a custom supple Nerf-hide lining installed.

You removed the lining, methodically placing each screw in containers lined up on the dropcloth. As you lifted the leather from the shell, a few stray hairs clung to the edges. They were thick, wavy and mahogany, except one; a wiry silver hair that stood out from the others, and you smiled at this secret you now shared.

Unsurprisingly considering its owner, the inside of the helmet was very clean. The lining showed no excess wear or strain beyond the darkened areas at points of direct contact. You could pick out the fresh scent of his soap, the umber tones of the leather conditioner, and the musk scent that could have belonged only to Mando. It was human and warm; not sour or acrid as you may have expected in a well-used piece of headwear.

You reached for your mag lenses, ready to begin stripping the helmet panels. The lens frames blended from aubergine to magenta and the iridescent mirrored lenses made you look like an insect. They were ridiculous and perfect. Since you bought them, you had added some more customizations; several sizes of jewelers' lenses, a work light, and you were currently working on creating a heads-up display that would combine the functionality of some of your most frequently used diagnostic equipment. All of your tools were hinged to the frames with telescoping arms, adding to the insect-like appearance.

You turned on the work light and disassembled the helmet to reach the wiring, tuning out the white noise of the cargo hold and humming to yourself. There was nothing you loved more than being knuckle-deep in wires.

You had finished removing the original wiring and were cutting and stripping new wires when you heard it. The door to the bunk opened, and at first it seemed like it was just a faulty circuit. You made a mental note to offer to check the door panels before you left. Something moved from inside the bunk. The tip of a green ear appeared. ‘Does he have a pet?’ And then it emerged from the hammock slung above the pallet. A small little thing with huge black eyes that dominated its face, long green ears, and a tiny frown etched into its wrinkled little face.

It climbed down and stopped at the foot of the bunk, staring at you. Unsure what could happen to it or what it was allowed to do inside the ship, you called out, “Um, Mando? Your…” What, pet? “friend...is awake.”

The small being finally noticed that you had Mando’s helmet in your hands and he grew very still, then threw back his head and wailed.

You heard a muffled curse from the cockpit and you scrambled to try to appear non-threatening. You put your hands up, leaving the helmet on the crate. “Hey there, little one. I’m just trying to help your- the- Mando. I’m fixing his helmet.”

His wails continued and he pointed to the helmet.

“I’m-”

But the second you made a sound, he got more angry and squealed, stomping his tiny bare feet on the ground.

He opened both hands, arms stretched and closed his eyes, furious tears trailing down his cheeks. The helmet began vibrating, jumping, and scooting along the drop cloth until it flew into the little one’s hands, scattering your tools and the parts and pieces to the floor.

“Maker…”

The cockpit door opened and Mando’s gloved hands appeared at the top of the ladder, waving down to catch the little one’s attention.

“Hey! Hey kid! Look!” he shouted.

The child turned around, trying to keep hold of the helmet, but it was too big for his tiny arms and he fumbled it, growing even more agitated.

“I’m okay. I’m here, kid. See?” Mando opened and closed his hands and waved at the kid.

The child stopped wailing and tried to hand the helmet up the ladder to Mando, but it slipped again, and in his anger, he spiked it to the ground in a low metallic thud. And the wailing continued.

Heavy footfalls and crashing sounded from above. It sounded like Mando was upturning everything in the cockpit.

You stood up a little, intending to go over to try to help and soothe the little guy, but he took another look at you, pointed at your face, and screamed in anguish.

“Damn, okay then,” you said to yourself as you sat back down.

The cockpit door opened again and Mando came tearing down the ladder. As soon as his boots and cape came into view, you spun around so you wouldn’t see his face.

_______________

Din jumped the last few rungs and dropped heavily onto the floor, immediately reaching for the child and taking him into his arms.

"K'uur! K'uur ner ad'ika,” he shushed softly, and began to pace and bounce a little to soothe the child.

The child immediately calmed and started patting Din’s armor, as though to ensure this was his buir. His little green paws traced over Din’s signet, patting it a few times.

Din chuckled softly, relieved. “You had me really worried, kid.”

The child took hold of Din’s makeshift helmet and twisted it, trying to find a face, and Din scrambled to hold on to the top to keep it on his head. After having twisted the helmet near 360, the child found the single hole near the top and centered it over one of Din’s eyes. He patted Din’s new face, and pointed to you while babbling and whining.

With a heavy sigh, Din looked up. You were still turned around on the crate, hugging your knees to your chest. Din’s gaze raked over your back, admiring your shapely hips accentuated by the bow you tied in your apron strings at your waist.

You were silent, and Din knew you were waiting for a signal from him that everything was okay. He saw your tools strewn all over the table and floor from the kid’s tantrum, and promised himself that he would replace anything that had been broken. It was the least he could do to make up for the shock of seeing the kid’s powers. He wasn’t sure how you were handling this; if you were terrified, angry, or just wanted to leave. Or worse, if you were going to be a threat to his foundling.

At least the kid didn’t try to choke you like he did Cara.

______________

You stared holes in the stacks of apple boxes that made up Mando’s makeshift pantry as you tried to ignore the action behind you, going over and over in your mind what had just happened when the child saw you.

‘What in the stars have I gotten myself into?’

“K’uur, gedet'ye,” Mando said soothingly to the whimpering child in his foreign language. “Ner mirdala vor val gaa'tayl ner buy'ce.” His voice didn’t sound at all as you had expected. The sound was too amplified, and reverberated with a loud buzz.

Suddenly, Mando said your name, making you start. “It’s ok,” he said. “You can turn around. I’m… covered.”

You could still hear the child sniffing and whining. You hoped it wouldn’t start screaming again as you turned around to face Mando. You were worried that he would yell at you for disturbing the kid, or tell you off for not having finished the helmet yet, threaten you. Or that he would just order you off the ship, never to cross paths again. Your heart wrenched at the thought. He was sweet and decent and you wanted to know him better.

You looked up to face him and you laughed so suddenly, you nearly pissed your pants.

Mando doubled over, laughing with you; one arm holding the child, the other on his knee to keep his balance.

Mando had literally put a bucket over his head.

“WHAT-” and you snorted loudly, “What in the stars are you wearing?”

“Me?!” He sounded outraged and overjoyed at once. “What about you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You-” he said as he tried to catch his breath, “look like a demented spider.”

You were still wearing your ridiculous mag lenses.

You and Mando stared at each other for a moment, then you both began to cackle and wheeze again.

“Please. A demented spider never looked this good” you said as you waggled your eyebrows and shimmied your shoulders. A puff of laughter escaped the bucket.

Taking off your lenses to inspect them, you said, “My father had teased me mercilessly when I bought them, saying they didn’t look professional and that no one would take me seriously.” Truthfully, you had clapped and nearly squealed with delight when you saw the metallic frames at the vendor several years ago. You shrugged. “I don’t really care about what people think. I’m good at my job and my skill has nothing to do with my appearance.” The kid stared between your face and the lenses. “See?" you said to him. "They won’t hurt you. They help me work. Do you want to look at them?”

He held out his hands and you passed them over. He concentrated on moving the arms around and positioning the different lenses.

Mando bent over and scooped up his helmet from the ground. He peered inside.

“Any chance this is ready to wear?” he asked.

“Not unless you enjoy the feel of stripped wires… and not being able to see anything.”

He crossed the short distance to hand the helmet back to you and you finally got a whiff of him. He reeked of death, and you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Where did you get that bucket?” you asked sharply as you held your breath. The two of you tidied up the tools and screws that were littered over the floor.

“It’s a spotchka mash tun.” He had taken the spigot out so he could see through the hole. “It still reeks of krill.”

“Oh, do you brew spotchka?”

“No,” he said simply.

You waved your hand to encourage him to continue.

“I don’t brew spotchka, but…some friends do.”

Clearly Mando wasn’t willing to indulge you. You cocked your head at him. “You look like a gonk droid.” The bucket raised sharply, the eye hole pinned on your face, a quick huff of a laugh sounded from inside.

You smiled at him before you stood up to continue working on the helmet.

“I don’t want to rush you, but how much longer until my helmet is ready? I think I may pass out from the fumes." He illustrated his point by wagging the bucket back and forth, wafting the acrid scent your way.

You made a disgusted face and pulled your scarf over your nose. “I’m about halfway through. I was just cutting the new wiring when your… he… showed up.”

The “he” in question was now sitting quietly in Mando’s arms, ears flat, and looking at your lenses as though he couldn’t figure them out.

“Sorry about that,” Mando said as he shifted the child in his grip and looked down at him, though the bucket stayed in place on his shoulders. “He was supposed to be with Peli.”

Your jaw dropped. "You trust your child with Peli??"

“Honestly, I trust Peli with my life. She’s terrifying,” he said conspiratorially.

You shrugged. “She’s great with engines and her droids are all loyal, but other living beings?” You tilted your hand back and forth, “Not so much.”

“Fair,” he said, putting the subject to rest.

The kid abandoned the lenses in favor of a multicolored wire bundle on the table. Mando handed you the purple metallic glasses. "Thank you," he said.

You adjusted your lenses, assessing the state of things. "No need to thank me yet. Still gotta finish the job." You smiled and bent to your task.

______

Din watched you for a moment before he realized he was staring. You were focused on your work and didn’t seem to notice that he was still hovering near you. The kid began to squirm in Din’s arms. He looked around but didn’t see the pram anywhere. 'It must still be in the hangar.'

The kid dropped onto your workstation and you perked up, smiling brilliantly at the little guy, a sweet expression in your eyes.

"Well, hello! Come to join me?"

As you installed the new wiring, the child sat on your workstation inspecting your tools. He would pick one up and you would tell him what it was for, hardly breaking your concentration, but without any trace of annoyance. This seemed to please the little guy, if his toothy smile was any indication.

Din kept his eye trained on you, in awe and captivated by your swift fingers and easy smiles. You stripped and twisted the wires with the precise movements of an assassin. You hardly took your eyes off the helmet as you reached for a tool. You were organized; efficient. And happy. Din caught himself staring at your mouth and the permanent quirk at the corners, like your enthusiasm couldn't be contained. This effortless joy was night-and-day from your scowl when he saw you in the marketplace this morning. Two contrasting halves of the beautiful woman in front of him.

"I'm nearly done. Maybe 10 minutes? You gonna survive, big guy?”

He smirked. A stinky bucket was nothing. “I’ve survived much worse.”

You paused and seemed to really consider his statement, then you looked him dead in the eye, and he felt bare in front of you. “I believe you.”

______

The ruthless reputation of Mandalorian warriors had reached even your ears and you knew it was not an exaggeration. But you also knew, having seen this intimidating man handle his little green companion with the utmost care, that those who spread the rumors didn’t really know these hunters. Was Mando the rule or an outlier?

You decided to try to find out more. "So, he's force sensitive?" You asked, glancing at the child.

"You mean his powers?"

"Sure. I knew some Jedi growing up. I know force powers when I see it."

"I am supposed to take him to a Jedi. To be with his people. Did...do you know Ahsoka Tano?"

Your eyebrows raised at that. 'What are the odds?' But then again, Jedi were rare now. "No. But I know the name. My father and my grandfather were republic sympathizers. They fought alongside Ahsoka and the 501st against the separatists on Umbara. It was a bloody battle, made worse by a Sith turncoat." You shook your head. "I could never imagine a worse twist of fate. Fighting against your brothers in arms."

"Did they survive?"

"My grandfather gave his life for my father. My dad continued to fight for the rebellion. He never lived to see the fall of the empire though."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Your eyebrows rose to your hairline in a question.

"The empire, I mean. They're not gone. Not really. There are enough survivors to make trouble. Only a matter of time before someone else rises up the ranks."

"I imagine you're right."

You had finished the installation and you sighed in relief. "I'm ready to close up your helmet, then we can test it," you say to the Mandalorian, who nodded once.

You turned to the kid. "Hey little guy. Want to help me?" The child smiled wide and walked toward you. "I need you to find all of the pieces of metal like this."

You held up one of the inner panels. He took it in his little claws and looked about the table for the rest of the pieces. He reached down, his little long sleeves nearly covering his hands and grabbed the nearest one. The next two were also within reach, but the last was still on the floor.

"Oops. What are we going to do?" You expected him to ask to be put down so he could get it. Instead, he crawled to the edge of the table, laid down, and stretched out his hand. Just like with the helmet earlier, the plate vibrated, jumped, then flew in the little one's hand. He held it up to you in triumph.

"Stars!" You exclaimed in shock, your eyes wide, "Great job, buddy!" You clapped and took the piece from him. "Next, can you find all of the screws this size?" You handed him a tiny 8mm screw and he immediately set to work.

____

Beneath his bucket, Din's jaw laid slack at the kid's offhand use of his power. The child trusted you so suddenly and completely. He knew the kid had good instincts with people and clearly you passed muster. That was enough of a sign for him.

"They were after him. The imps."

Your hands stilled and you turned to Din. He sat up straighter under your scrutiny. "He was being hunted?" you asked.

He nodded. "They wanted him, his blood. For testing, experiments."

He saw the question in your eyes; here you were talking to a hunter about a bounty and he could practically hear your thoughts. Would he ever feel forgiven for turning the kid over to the imps? Could he ever do enough?

"Yes. I can feel your question as though you said it out loud. I had been hired to bring him in. And I did."

"But how-"

"It doesn't matter now. I- I have to keep him safe."

"You are. You do." You leaned toward him and placed your hand on his elbow, which scorched in the path of your soft touch. "Whatever happened, he is with you now. Your choices have shown me that you are a good man. I can see how you care for him."

Heat blazed under his skin. He coughed and hummed his assent, lifting his arm out of your grasp and scratching at the back of his neck, but the bucket was in the way, so he feigned discomfort and adjusted how it sat on his shoulders.

___

Your keen eyes didn't miss how he deflected your touch. You tried not to be offended; he hadn't really consented to you touching him, and he was surely feeling vulnerable without his helmet. 'Nice going, hot shot,' you chastised yourself. 'Idiot.'

You huffed a bit, trying to calm down from your poor judgment as you finished the helmet. You lifted it and inspected your work. Everything looked just as he had left it.

"I'm sorry," you said, cradling the helmet in your arms as you moved to stand in front of him "I shouldn't have touched you. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I regret it if I did."

"You didn't." One of your eyebrows lifted. "Truly," he said evenly. "I'm not used to having others in my space."

You pursed your lips and looked away.

"No! I- I didn't mean- you-." He huffed. The bucket turned up to you and he placed his hand over yours. "Thank you. For comforting me. It was…comforting."

"You're welcome." You looked away for a moment, but Mando's hand never moved from yours. "I'm finished. With your helmet." A smile found its way back to your face. Crooked and a little unsure. "You can have your face back."

You didn't see his smile as he smoothed his hand over yours and took the helmet from you. He stood over you a moment and you saw a sliver of stubbled tan skin before you looked away. He walked to the fresher and threw over his shoulder, "Be right back."

You watched him until his broad frame nimbly maneuvered through the narrow doorway and it closed and locked behind him, doing your best to keep your gaze respectful. You turned to find the child watching you. You felt called out and you shrugged in good humor. "Your dad cuts a nice figure."

___

Din stood at the tiny fresher sink for a moment, breathing in the recycled, but krill-free air. He couldn't bring himself to soil his helmet with that stench, so he took a moment to wash his hair and face.

Most often, when he placed the helmet on his head, he felt whole. This symbol of his creed, his family.

Today, now, he felt the same snug comfort of his custom liner, smelled the metal and leather conditioner. But he struggled to identify something…new. The scent of your lotion, perhaps. That wasn't it. This was more than olfactory. He was restless. His nerves were on edge, his hands itched.

He ripped the helmet off his head. 'What the fuck?' He measured his breaths and tried again. The dark visor was a familiar and comforting sight in the mirror. He took the time to cycle through his settings, checked his heads-up display, and reset the view to ambient light. His equilibrium slowly returned to normal and he felt ready to face you again, as himself.

He opened the door and was greeted by a scene he could never have imagined. You were stirring a pot of soup on the burner in the makeshift kitchen. The kid was perched on your shoulders, hands on your head, babbling away as though telling an epic story. You nodded and cooed and responded to him as though you understood him.

Din had to lean against the doorframe to catch his breath. The feeling was returning; raw and electric.

You turned toward him, looking sheepish. "I hope this is okay. Little guy climbed onto the shelf and got the soup himself. I connected the dots and made him some lunch."

You turned your attention back to the stove and served food to his kid like you belonged there, like you had done it a thousand times. It was so kriffing domestic and Din didn't know how to process it.

He had always thought the Razor Crest was his home, but your presence made him consider what a home could be.

He balled his hands into fists at his side, the worn leather creaking. The pressure grounded him, an anchor to save him from drifting.

"Are you ready?"

Mando pushed off the doorframe and gave a single nod. "I'll go in the cockpit."

Once he was settled, you picked up the handheld comm and pressed the push-to-talk button.

"Test one. Test two." You grinned, "Demented Spider calling Gonk Droid."

Mando laughed, and the unfiltered sound of his baritone in your earpiece made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"Your voice is crystal clear. This is serious tech."

You curtsied to no one, holding out your apron. "Why, thank you. Just wait til you try the holo emitter."

He paused. "I didn't buy a holo emitter from you."

"Free upgrade. Repayment for inconveniencing you."

"You didn't have to-"

"Don't sweat it," you cut him off as you adjusted the channel on your emitter. "I want it to go to someone who will appreciate it. Turn to channel 4 on your vambrace, and set your visor to preset Besh-5."

There was another pause as he calibrated. "I don't see anything."

"Just wait." You hit record on your wrist emitter.

Din inhaled sharply. "I see you in my visor. Wait- what have you done!? Can you-"

"No, I can't see you. At least not your face. I can't see inside your helmet. Your camera is on your wrist, same as mine." You wiggled your wrist camera a little for effect and pouted a little at the camera. "Give me a little credit."

"I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"I understand," you said to Mando's holo, a shiny helmet and broad chest emitting from your wrist gear. "Come back down and I'll show you some more tricks."

___

You winked, and your image disappeared from in front of Din's eyes.

He could feel the flush rise from his chest to his forehead, painting him red to the tips of his ears.

He was grateful for his helmet as he tried to listen to you explain the features of his new comms. He couldn't scrub the lopsided smile from his face, or keep from staring at your mouth as you spoke. 'By the Maker, I'm not going to remember any of this.'

Others had watched and cared for the child. Others had fed him and talked to him. Read to him. They had cared for Din, too. Housed him, helped him, fought for him. None of them left him feeling so unmoored.

None of them were you.

How could one woman challenge his entire existence in the course of a morning?

___

You had finished showing Mando the ropes, but you got the feeling he was just going through the motions. You figured he was ready to have his ship back to himself, so you turned from him and gathered up your tools.

He stayed where you left him, one hand on his vambrace, adjusting the control panel.

Suddenly he said your name. It was quiet, but firm. You looked up at him. He appeared slightly smaller than before. Tired, maybe. He came to stand in front of you, across the crate table, his gloved hands rubbing nervously along the outside of his thighs.

"I have been quested to return the child to his people. The Jedi. But… I've never met with a Jedi and my people- Well, we have a history. I- this would be so much easier with someone who knew and understood the Jedi."

Your hands gripped your tools to keep from dropping them.

"I can't do this alone. Come with us." You met his gaze in his visor and he shifted his weight. "Please. To meet Ahsoka. It sounds like you have some family history. It would be helpful."

You cocked your head at him. "You're not good with strangers are you?"

You could almost feel his blush. "…No," he said quietly.

"You're not good at asking for favors either."

"Do I have to answer that?"

"It wasn't a question."

You finished rolling up your tools and packed them away in your kit before answering his request.

"Let me sleep on it? I have responsibilities here; I can't just pack up and leave for a week. At least not without notifying…people."

Your argument sounded as weak as it felt, but Mando has the good grace to ignore that.

"Of course. Give me your personal comm and I'll give you my number. I won't make plans to leave until I hear from you tomorrow either way."

You handed him your comm and he pecked his personal number into the keypad. He handed it back to you and he moved to let down the ramp. Afternoon sunlight flooded the dark hold, making you and Mando shield your eyes.

"Oh! Thank the Maker! You're here!" Peli was standing directly in front of the ramp, wringing her hands together. "I set the kid down in the bunk for a nap because my office A/C is broken. When I heard the ramp go up I nearly cried!"

The child took this opportunity to hobble down the ramp towards Peli. "What happened, little troublemaker? Did your dad lock you in there?"

You decided there was no way to exit the ship without it being awkward, so with your head held high, you shouldered your kit and strode down the ramp as if you owned the place.

"Hey, Peli!" You said with a sunniness you did not feel.

Peli's head swung from you to Mando so fast, you feared she might break her neck.

Mando stood stoically at the top of the ramp, arms crossed over his breastplate, giving nothing away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mando!" you called over your shoulder, throwing a fingertip wave over your shoulder.

As you disappeared into the alleyway, you could hear Peli giving Mando the first-degree.

____

It was the middle of the night when Din heard a thud and the rustling of fabric over his headset. The sound of water running far in the background. A squeak and whine and more fabric, very close by.

He searched the bunk for the comm thinking the kid had it. When he couldn't find it, he realized that you must have pocketed the comm by mistake.

He could hear soft breathing - Then suddenly a short burst of a laugh and a snort. His ears turned pink as he heard you calm down from laughing again. "Demented Spider," you huff and scoff in annoyance. "Stupid, broad, sexy-voiced Gonk Droid."

He held his breath.

You mumbled a bit more, and rustled the sheets as you got comfortable.

He stayed silent, transfixed, and a little embarrassed. He considered changing the channel; this couldn't be okay, eavesdropping on your vulnerable moments.

He considered it.

Then he gave in.

He took off his Beskar and his boots and stretched out on the shitty hard bunk he shared with the kid. Your breathing in his ear like white noise, trying to sync his breaths to yours.

Din listened to you sleep, picturing your sweet smile and soft curves. "Akay nakar'tuur, punkyr'ika."

_______________________

End notes:

"K'uur! K'uur ner ad'ika.” - Hush! Hush, my little one.

“K’uur, gedet’ye.” Hush, please.

“Ner mirdala vor val gaa'tayl ner buy'ce.” My clever friend will help/fix my helmet.

"Akay nakar'tuur, punkyr'ika" - Until tomorrow, sweet little spider.

#all i really want #airw #alpaca writes #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x plus size reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #my story

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thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird - Helium

It's been a while since I got a new story up. I'd been working on some other projects, then had some pretty unhappy life events happen. I am doing fine, so don't worry. Hopefully, now my muse is back and will stick around a while :)

This story is from a prompt ao3

*** *** ***

When you bring together a wide variety of races from different planets and environments, you tend to have an equally wide variety of needs that need to be met from species to species. Ships were typically staffed by a food and nutrients safety team. Custodial teams were careful about residual chemical and oil cross-contamination between particular races. Sections of hab suites had controlled ventilation systems that could be set to various atmospheric needs. Outside the hab suites, at work stations or in communal areas, some species have to be fitted with atmospheric filters. Over the years, these devices have gotten less uncomfortable, thankfully. They weren’t the best, they were a bit bulky, noisy, and in some cases obstructive to the wearer, but hey, being able to properly breathe on a ship with beings who had different atmospheric needs than you was more important than comfort. When the humans joined the galactic community, the newer filters started becoming noticeably smaller and less obtrusive. Many were concerned that the changes would make them less effective, but leave it to the humans to tinker around and invent the impossible when they really wanted to. The latest models were supposed to be so small and comfortable, you could sleep with them on. Heck for some races, you could barely tell they were wearing an atmospheric filter at all. Not only that, they were up to 40% more effective at filtration and gas delivery for many species. This opened up crew rosters for ships. Species who couldn't reasonably be stationed in the same ship due to the gases they breathe being dangerous to others, or vice versa could now be on the same crew.

That included duibs like Marvi who breathe large amounts of helium. She’d been serving aboard Galactic Coalition ships for more standard solar rotations than many of her fellow crewmates had been alive. It helped that duibs were long-lived, of course, and in her time, she’d seen many new technologies come and go. If you pressed her hard enough, she’d likely say that the atmospheric filters the humans developed were by far her favorite. Being able to safely and comfortably pass through different atmospheric biomes was an important ability when you had a long list of custodial and maintenance duties each rotation. Marvi huffed a deep sigh as she rounded another corner. Lighting beam replacements weren’t heavy, but maneuvering them around corners like this was a bit of a pain. “Need a helping paw Marvi?” Marvi turned to see a dark gray priso steadying the end lighting beam she was carrying. The furry face was relatively expressionless, but a clear look at his flicking whiskers and triangular, alert ears and bright eyes told her that he was holding back laughter. He must have just come up from around the other corner and seen the small duib struggling. “Oh, hello Aurrin. I definitely would appreciate some aid, though I would understand if you are busy right now,” Marvi replied politely. Honestly, the help would be very nice and she hoped the offer was serious. “I’m waiting for Human Karl, I can help until he gets here,” Aurrin rose to his back paws awkwardly and grabbed the ends of the light beams in his dexterous front paws. Priso were normally quadrupedal on flat ground, but the forested terrains of their homeworld meant they were at least somewhat adept at grabbing and climbing. He followed along, holding on to the light beams and kept them away from the walls and corners as the pair walked. “I was actually just installing something by the hab suites over there,” he tilted his head back to gesture behind them, “I’ve got something I wanted to test before I go off duty. After that, I’m looking forward to two whole cycles of rest and whatever I want to do.” The corridor here was darker and Marvi stopped walking. This was where she needed to replace the light beam. “Two whole cycles, huh?” She set down the light beam carefully, Aurrin following suit. She pulled out a tool from her hip pack and started working on opening the control panel. In order to open the panels to install the new light beams, she had to make sure power was redirected for safety. “What are you going to do with your time off? Any fun plans?” “A few plans. They might change depending on how my experiment goes.” Marvi worked quietly, waiting on the priso to expound, but other than chuckling to himself, he didn’t say anything more on the topic. Well, Marvi supposed it was not really her business, so she changed the subject and chatted cordially until the new light beam was installed and she rerouted power back to the panel. The darkened hall was filled with bright, cheerful light and Marvi let out a satisfied sigh. “Well, that’s that. Another task down.” The old light beam would need to be taken back to her shop for a repair and gas exchange, or refill, or whatever it ended up needing to get it up and running again. “Thank you again for your help. I should be able to get these back alright myself, I don’t want to take up too much of your time if you’ve still got your experiment to run.” From around the corner of the corridor, the distinct sound of a hab suite door opening was followed by approaching footsteps. A light on Aurrin’s comm device flashed and the priso’s long tail flicked excitedly back and forth. “No worries, it looks like my experiment is already underway.” Marvi felt the frills all along her body perk in curiosity, but before she could ask anything else, Human Karl rounded the corner. He grinned without showing his teeth, as it would have been a sign of aggression to many species on the ship, and gave a small wave as he approached. “Hey Karl,” Aurrin started. Marvi only partially listened as he started in on a spiel about his upcoming off-duty

plans. Instead, she was more interested in a quiet hissing noise and was trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It sounded like… well it sounded almost like an atmospheric filter, one beside her own. Hers was in light operation since she was in a sector of the ship that was tuned to a generalized setting, but this noise sounded like a filter at full power output. Did Human Karl hear it? Could he hear it? Surely Aurrin could? She studied them, they didn’t seem to notice. The noise had started when Karl arrived, did that mean…? Her suspicions were confirmed the moment Karl opened his mouth to reply to Aurrin. “I’m actually on my way to…” What. The. Frewan? Human Karl’s voice, which was usually a calming deep tone, was disturbingly high and unnatural. The surprised expression on his face made Marvi’s core freeze. That meant this vocal change wasn’t some weird human thing? What was going on?! “I, woah,” the squeaky voice stuttered, “is this… helium? What is this? What’s going on?” He looked at the comm device strapped to his wrist and pulled up the readout. Sure enough, it was an increase of helium output from his atmospheric filter. The skin on his forehead wrinkled as he looked from the readout to Marvi and Aurrin, his eyes finally locking on the latter who was fiddling with something on his own comm device readout. “You punk! How did you do this? Change it back!” Karl started laughing a bit, Marvi wasn’t sure if it was directed at the ridiculousness of his voice or if it was because the helium was affecting his cognitive functions. She worried it was the latter. Panicking, Marvi approached to see if there was some sort of override. She had to act fast! Humans didn’t breathe helium, he could die! Before she could do anything though, Aurrin spoke up while trying to muffle his laughter. “Okay, okay, hoooo… I’ve deactivated it, you’re good. Keep talking though while your voice turns back to normal, you’re hilarious.” Karl gave him a look that Marvi couldn’t interpret. “What was that? How did you do that?” His voice was already back to normal and it sounded like a mix between annoyed, intrigued and amused. “When you came out of your hab suite, you passed a sensor I set up that overrode your atmospheric filter controls. My latest invention. Imagine this: a ship gets attacked and boarded. Normal defenses prove insufficient and the crew is in grave danger. As the hostiles pass hidden sensors, their atmospheric filters are overridden and they fall asleep, get loopy and confused, or simply pass out before they can get to and harm any crew.” Marvi and Karl blinked in unison while Aurrin’s tail swept side to side proudly. Marvi was the first to find words. “Your… your experiment?” Marvi glanced between Aurrin and Karl worriedly, “Is this what you were experimenting with? You ran it on a crewmate?!” “Well,” Aurrin’s ears pulled back slightly, but his whiskers still kept their amused look, “I say experiment pretty loosely. This was more of a field test. I ran all the actual experiments long ago. I knew exactly what would happen. And I did research on humans and I found out what effects helium has on them and I had to see it for myself. That’s why I was waiting for Karl.” The human in question was still laughing a bit - of course, a human would be able to laugh after nearly being asphyxiated, they’re crazy - before he ran his hand over his head to compose himself. “So this was a prank?” “For science.” “Of course. For science.” Karl’s smile suddenly morphed into a thoughtful frown. “Wait. Is this payback for the soap thing I pulled on you last week?” Aurrin’s face was statuesque and solemn as he stared silently at the human for a moment. “Yes.” “You’re the worst.” “Thank you.” “Want to go do this again in front of Aylin? She and Maruti-kar would think it’s hilarious.” “I had been planning on it. But only if we can get video evidence of it.” “For science?” “Naturally.” Marvi watched, hearts still beating rapidly from her panic, as Aurrin and Karl deactivated and retrieved the sensor to reenact the stunt she had just been a witness

to. Almost reflexively, she started tracing the side of her atmospheric filter. The quiet hum and hiss were calming. Helium to her was life. She’d thought it was toxic to others. And yet Aurrin thought it fine to use it on a human, and Karl was not only unworried about it but found it funny. Was it not dangerous?! And his voice? Why did it do that? She pulled up a search screen on her comm device and searched in the human database. Helium. Breathing. Voices. Apparently, helium took up space in their lungs that normally would be filled by oxygen, so yes, it was dangerous because they could asphyxiate. It also amplified higher-pitched tones of their vocal tract while simultaneously dampening lower tones because of the gas’s low density. That explained the voice change. And for some reason, the funny noise was enough of a reason to play around with deadly materials. Well, if anything, she supposed humans did keep to their MO pretty well. She picked the spent light beams back up and headed back to her shop, careful to not hit the ends on any walls or corners.

#humans are weird #space orcs #humans #aliens #helium #science #writeblr #original writing #space #spaceships

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pinkteapotwriting · 4 years ago

Note

yasss you’re taking requests <333

can you write a smut with Marauders where it’s readers’ first time and the boys are already experienced so she is kind of nervous(also little insecure about her body bc stretch marks?🤗)

I loooove your writing, have a good day and please take care of yourself!

Marauders x Fem!reader

Warning : Smut, fingering, female receiving, pet names also did not proof read

Word count : 1721

---

I made this more light hearted, thanks for your patience love.

James’ hands were getting lost in your hair, much like your inhibitions. Today was going to be your first time and they knew you were anxious. So they were trying their best to keep things light but still intentional. You were mirroring Sirius on top of Remus, both of you straddling a brunette below you. Sirius however kept pulling away from Remus to pull you away from James. Apparently he couldn’t decide who he wanted to be kissing more. Which was all fine and good, for you. James however was getting frustrated with Sirius’s blatant thievery. Sirius wasn’t in reach though. So you were unsuspecting when his hands drifted down to your waist. Just when you thought you were safe you were being tossed onto your back and James was tickling your sides and you were trying your best not to kick him.

“Jamie, JAMIE stoooop. That tickles!”

“That’s kind of the point. Last I checked you were kissing me. Sirius can wait his turn hmmm?”

“AH stop! Stop it!”

You were playfully slapping his hands.

“Beg then”

Sirius and Remus were now enjoying the show. But then your shirt started to ride up and you pushed your palm against his chest as hard as you could; which surprised the boys. You were quick to pull your shirt down once you sat up and crossed your arms over your chest. Successfully creating a physical barrier to help mask your insecurity. Sirius was now turned around completely. Why were you hiding yourself from them? James felt especially bad.

“M’sorry for tickling you. I thought it was funny, but now I see it just made you feel bad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just” you took a deep breath “I didn’t want you to see yet. I thought I was ready and brave enough but I didn’t want you to see my- my”

James reached for your hand as soon as he heard your voice falter.

“Your what, love?”

“I have some stretch marks, and I know it’s ridiculous to hold myself to society's standards about my body size and how I look but it’s hard sometimes.”

Remus was the first to reassure you. He pushed Sirius forward so he could stand beside the bed and pull off his shirt.

“I know what it’s like to feel insecure about my body Y/N. Some people learn to accept and love themselves on their own, but we’re both lucky that we have people that are here to remind us that they find us attractive.”

He chuckled then because you were kind of listening, but really your main focus was running your hand across his chest and tracing his scars delicately. He hadn’t even noticed you edge closer to him until he felt your warm touch.

“I do find you attractive.”

“Really Bunny? We didn’t notice.” Sirius snickered at first, but then he became more sincere. He lifted the bottom of James’ shirt.

“See look, James has some stretch marks too, and we think he’s beautiful.”

Sirius’s head was much closer to James' lower stomach now. Close enough to delicately kiss along each mark. Remus had turned you around now and was resting his chin against your shoulder. Both of you very much enjoyed the beautiful sight of Sirius worshiping James with his lips. Remus starts to do the same for you but on the sweet spot on your neck before whispering in your ear.

“Want Siri to do the same for you, love?”

Your nervous disposition started to dissolve and you found yourself nodding now. Sirius was smiling, not his cocky grin, but one full of the same love and adoration you felt for him. He lifted the hem of your shirt and his palm felt warm against the softness of your stomach.

“Breath honey, you gotta breath.”

You let out the air you didn’t know you were holding at Remus’s reassurance, but squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see, but the boys wanted you to. Remus slid his hand to grasp your chin and pull your gaze down to Sirius.

“Open your eyes darling, that’s it. See? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Remus had one of his hands in Sirius’s hair now and while it was nice, you couldn’t help but notice James in the same spot at the edge of the bed. He didn’t look lonely, he actually looked pretty pleased with the view. The bulge in his pants made that perfectly clear. You’re not sure how you got away from Sirius and Remus, maybe they noticed the focused look in your eye, but you were able to make your way to James again. This time you were the one to get that pesky shirt out of the way and kiss his stomach and lower abdomen.

“Like this James?”

James adored how timid you were, how soft you traced your fingers across his chest. It was maddening.

“Yes dove, but this is supposed to be about you, no?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay love, we’ve gotta prep you okay? Can we take your clothes off now?”

“Only if the rest of yours come off too.”

Sirius stood up instantly and threw his shirt to the side and yanked his pants off. Once his clothes were off he spread his arms out.

“I’m ready, your turn.”

All eyes were on Sirius now. James hucked a pillow in your honor that hit Sirius straight in the face.

“Shut it you git. Let her take her time.”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows, because instead of the usual angry outburst from Sirius there was a focused look in his eyes. Then he turned around to find you completely naked with your arms outstretched giggling.

“I’m ready, your turn.”

Sirius quite literally dove across the bed. James and Remus didn’t have time to process what was happening. They barely were able to scramble out of the way as Sirius clambered on past him. But he halted as soon as he was in front of you, smiling like a little kid.

And you wouldn’t be separated.

Your fingers locked into his hair, while his hands hooked under your thighs to pull you onto his lap. He fell onto his back and pulled you in chest to chest.

“Sirius, come on. We wanna see her too.” James was getting less and less patient, but Remus was smarter than James and knew how to coax you out.

“My angel you’ve got to remember to breathe.”

As soon as he reminded you you were able to pull away and to your surprise you were panting. Once your breath was level Remus took your face in his hands gently and kissed you. You don’t know how you made the switch but you were now being pulled onto Remus’s lap. There was no control over your body with any of these boys. It was like you were magnetic, it flowed through you naturally to follow their lead now. The embarrassment dissipated all along the way. You needed them.

“Remus please”

“Alright love, who do you want to prep you?”

“Let’s flip a coin.” James suggested.

“There’s three of us, you idiot.” Sirius retorted.

“Yeah, but I figured you don’t even count so.”

“Sirius counts, don’t be mean James.”

Sirius was very pleased you stood up for him. “Thanks bunny, does that mean you pick me?”

“Well… seeing as Remus is the only one not acting like a five year old.”

Remus tried not to look too happy with himself as he led you to lie back against the pillows. James scooted up to the right of you to hold your hand as Remus rubbed the inside of your thighs when they fell open. Sirius looked like he was plotting something, but instead opted to sit beside Remus and flash you a cheeky grin.

“You ready love”

“Yes.”

His fingers lightly trailed your inner thighs. He relished in how sensitive they were. His thumb found your clit and he began to massage gentle circles against it.

“You’re so wet already love, and we’ve barely touched you.”

Sirius grumbled; Remus humored him.

“What was that Padfoot?”

“I said you’re welcome”

Remus slipped a finger inside you now, which had you bucking your hips up which had him pushing his hand against your lower stomach.

“I don’t think I need your help getting her off Sirius.”

“I personally wouldn’t mind his help.”

Remus rolled his eyes at you while adding in another finger.

“You sure about that?”

“Stop being mean to our bunny, I bet she looks so pretty when she cums and your banter is preventing that.”

While James stole Remus’s attention Sirius took the opportunity to tend to your neglected clit with his tongue. The unrestrained moan you let out gathered everyone’s attention. Your thighs began to shake while Remus quickened his pace.

“Si-Siri I can't, it's too much.”

Sirius didn’t stop though. James was still holding your hand, completely mesmerized by your face as you were building to your release.

“Doing so good for us love. Come on, it’s okay to let go.”

You whimpered, James grinned.

“You look so beautiful like this bunny.”

This time Remus let you arch your back. A high pitched whine was ripped from your throat and Remus had to pull Sirius away to keep him from lapping at your cunt. He was able to get over the loss of contact when he saw that your legs were still trembling. He was going to make some sort of snarky comment but the blissed out look on your face had him crumbling.

“Oh Puppy, you look so pretty. Are you ready for more?”

You nodded your head.

“By the way Siri, I think you’re pretty too.”

“See Remus, Y/N knows how to feed my ego. Take notes.”

“You think I want to encourage your behaviour.”

“Yes yes i d- OI James you can’t snog her under our noses like that.”

So silly to think they’d dislike you for the way you looked. It was a battle for who would get to sit next to you in the great hall for dinner. What else would you expect for something like this? You would be sure to make it known you’ll fight for them the same way that they fight for you.

And they would always fight for you.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @midnightgremlin @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev @agalandhermarvelobsession

#Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #James Potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #Marauders #marauder smut #marauders x reader #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter Smut #fanfiction #smut

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