#the thin man having the roughest day

[grim-faux]

2 _ 33 _ A Bend in the Road

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

All the rooms and the corridors had taken several scouts. The larger room led to the corridors, and the corridors branched off to the separate rooms, and a kitchen area. He only sifted through the kitchen, but that was it. No dangers found a way into the rooms, not during his watch.

When his legs could no longer carry him, he curled up beside a wall and rested. Much of his time was dedicated to the scouting. It was important. Safe. He was always attuned to unfamiliar noises in the walls, and half-slept with one eye open, barely skimming over the membrane of unconsciousness. He was used to the dull air, absent of vibrancy and buzzing. The best sounds fled his thoughts, to the point he thought hearing was a mythical affliction.

These corridors and rooms were so different from the perpetual dark halls and broken rooms, sagging into each other. The windows seemed so… artificial, in a way he couldn’t decide. Behind the warped boards and broken glass, the world beyond was too bright. The acidic radiance burnt his eyes. But that was okay, he was getting used to it. He wasn’t a fan of traveling out in the open, without the assurance of shades or dark cloaks. Being able to see where he was and the walls surrounding, that was a plus.

On the rare occasions he didn’t roam around, he’d sit in one of the inner rooms and by the soft gleam of a bulb, go through his worldly possessions. He organized his hats, and usually traded one out. The weird picture speek of a face stayed folded into his coat, but he liked to take that out and give it a look. Though now, the entire surface had become damaged by water seepage. If he was lucky, his searching might reward him with crumbs wedged deep into his pockets.

Though he had too much to do, it was also fun to sit and do nothing, and see for how long he could be still. It was never fun uncoiling from the bubble of warmth he formed, but he was no stranger to severing those enticing threads. Then, it was back to his patrols.

He left his familiar marks on the walls, to make the place remember he was here. After adding so many stories, he felt like he was always here. He couldn’t remember if the Thin Man left him here, or if this was where Mono took shelter while he waited. Everything was confusing when the Thin Man wasn’t around, since he kept track of when the Thin Man came to visit and then left. That was always important, especially when he could follow the Thin Man. Sometimes he wanted to see an other child following the Thin Man, even if Mono was the only child to follow. In the quiet span of time while the windows tucked into dark hues, he thought a lot of the other children.

This building was not quite as tall as others he had stayed in. This was for a while, and he still had plenty of windows to climb out of if a creature came searching. From the larger room, the corridors led into the rooms with windows, and he rarely went to the rooms without windows – even if they were dry. Not many of them had bulbs or lamps that would work, and he had broken enough trying to practice his tricks.

When it wasn’t raining hard, he climbed onto the sill and wrapped his coat over his knees. From this height, he could still see the street below, and another street at the end intersecting. The Thin Man only wandered when it rained, but he was always eager to visit Mono. Sometimes he brought books and papers, he would sit in one of the rooms and scratch down marks. The Thin Man preferred flimsy pages.

Scratching picture speek onto walls was a child thing. For the bazillion time, the Thin Man was not a child.

One of the rooms on the other side of the dwelling was where the Thin Man hid away. He would be back, because he left some pages with his mark speek. It all meant nothing to Mono, but he liked to check the room in case the Thin Man was hiding very well.

He climbed from a chair and hopped to the edge of the table, which was slippery from dust and ash. Mono didn’t have anything to write on the papers with, aside from carving tools – he would never carve into the paper. Rather mess up the Thin Man’s marking, he liked to sit and trace his finger over the strikes and curves of the marks. A circle here. A slash there. He liked to think about the man in the hat so diligent and focused on the marks, while a stick with a smoky tail curled around his hat. The Thin Man looked so important, he had so much busy.

Mono had a lot of busy and work too. But the Thin Man’s stony focus was a different sort of busy. If Mono could get away with sitting on the tabletop for watch the Thin Man, he preferred that. Thing’s didn’t always go that way, and after a while the man in the hat’s focus would crumble away. He usually moved Mono out of the room and shut the door, or wrapped Mono into a blanket and shoved him into a drawer.

To remedy all this, Mono would be crafty and sit in a nearby corner. He could be very still like a shadow. Or he hid beneath the chair and watched the Thin Man’s heels. The shoes didn’t do anything, but the static was so steady and mingled nicely with the scratching on coarse papers. Or the flipping of pages.

One day Mono would figure out the mystery of mark speek. The man in the hat did not like pictures, but he liked marks. It would look amazing and the Thin Man would be impressed with how well he could imitate the marks.

Until that time, Mono slipped down onto the chair and curled up on the seat. Between the bars of the chairs back, he watched the ajar doorway and listened to the soft creaking in the walls. He was eager for the Thin Man to come and they could leave, because Mono had a mission. No matter what, he couldn’t leave the Thin Man behind.

__

The wind was not howling rabid or wild on this hour. The storm was nothing but glassy beads glittering across the tall thin man’s suit jacket and hat. With his head titled, the excess water sweeps of the hat rim, behind the silver pellets, eyes shimmer in the shadows of his face. He glared beyond the glossy veil, with a hand pressed to his lips; he drew in the warmth of smoke and held it in his chest.

In the distance, far beyond the hissing curtains and strumming wail droplets, the impervious monolith of the Signal Tower stands behind its picket line of loyal attendants.

Close. No longer a distance to ponder or agonize about reaching.

Below, the roads would be cleaved and divided into chasms, or caved out entirely into an eternal abyss littered with portions of buildings, and pieces of cities décor. He could imagine where such a gorge might lead, given the proximity to the Tower. However, he had banished all halls and door, which could led to the outside world. Only one door in or out, and it would only open for one single event – an anniversary of sorts. No other force or will could shift that entrance.

A thread of smoke trailed the man in the hat, when he tore his gaze from the unwavering stare of the Tower. He traced around the punctured wounds and collapse embedded in the rooftop of the building, before winking out of existence of the pummeling downpour.

In some obscure corridor, twisted and mangled by the lurch of the building fostering it, the Thin Man solidified with a piercing shriek. Immediately, the crisp click and ticking of his footfalls rebounded off the walls, overpowering the hollowed moaning of the foundation as the structure sagged in its moorings. Somewhere distant and muffled, the hokey laughter of a fictitious audience crashed through the bleak emptiness. He breezed by an open doorway, the bulb within the ceiling flashed against his bristling presence. In the eviscerated window, tattered curtains flap fiercely against another hammer of water. Across the floorboards, dust lifted and skipped across the broken body of some malformed creature bloated by the insufferable climate.

Another plume of smoke swelled forth from beneath the bill of the hat, as he chewed at the end of his smoke sti— cig. It was a cigarette.

Rooms shut tight and locked for decades, he opened effortlessly and bowed beneath the insufferably low doorframe. Clutter and boundless plains of rubbish coated the floors wall-to-wall, a testament of indifferent beings from a period of the world forgotten by time itself. The man in the hat sought pieces to a puzzle with no distinct picture, while the marks and pictures faded across discarded tomes offered no clear image, so as the inane purpose of his agenda. How kindred he was to these neglected dens, a practical existing in a world that ceased.

Perhaps, he mused, while seeking broken shelves littered with literature, the former denizens of the city had taken interest in something obscene. Of the mounds of pages packed into the floor, or books stacked to molder perpetually, he sought an inspiration in the last discarded pieces before the Viewers came to be.

As always he doubted, given how long (or undetermined and timeless as the cycle endured) that nothing which could have remembered, would have had its wits intact when the Signal Tower first unraveled its roots and penetrated the streets. Was is not possible that all which had once cared, was slain before the Signal Tower saw its opportunities? That dredged the question of the culprit, and the motivation? Was there one creature neglected in the city, which was spared for its role?

That would be a fools errand. A feeble speculation with no merit, aside from unbridled madness in his aimless pursuits.

Regardless, he shifted among the dwellings in glitching shadows, skipping away from open corridors of empty-nothing. He paid careful attention to rooms which faced the Signal Tower, in the distance, and those that reveled in violence on the walls and doorways. There was more to this acknowledgment than mere guess, since he took note of a higher frequency of varied means of self… ending.

A bathroom coated in brown flakes, the tub long drained but retained a stain. A tattered rope, then a chair in ab odd placement. Other evidence presented itself, of bizarre happenings that occurred before; of a ‘‘when’’ he couldn’t discern. The evidence remained, this was all he could conclude with his stinted understanding of that world. Of all the places which featured private disaster, nothing indicated to the why.

The tall thin man knew the why, naturally. But what was it the adults believed in? What did They see out the window?

Somewhere nearby, the jeering melody cackled from a television. The programs never changed, it was always the rehashed melodies and jokes performed to a sprawling cemetery. In the absence of—

The door to the next room repelled off its frame and crashed to the floor. Atop the lopsided panel, because it had fallen upon a shattered television, the Viewer rocked and clawed over the grainy wood.

The Thin Man dropped the thick binder he previously collected (among other curios), but he was promptly knocked backwards by the squealing creature.

What the Ť̷̩̲Ó̵̯̟W̸͈̃̚ͅȨ̷̕R̵̞̅?̸̣̽͛

This was odd. As of late, the Viewers had been more aggressive and becoming difficult to elude with the traditional means, but under usual circumstances a television sufficed for their withdrawals. This one was behaving in the most abnormal fashion. Not only that, the deranged thing was trying to crawl up his legs while he lay, stunned.

Despite being easy to avoid while aptly distracted, he never liked them. They were icky and creepy, and it was the worst when they were agitated and chasing him. Lifetimes ago, he could remember clearly racing through the icy waters of a dwelling flooded through. He knocked over a lamp and the unleashed current tore through the placid waters, sending sparks carving through the Viewer that had been hounding him.

Presently, the Thin Man collected his sense of place and time. The Viewer dug its weathered fingers at his stomach, using his jacket as anchorage to haul up onto its knees. It didn’t climb much further, the Thin Man shoved it backwards off his frame. While the Viewer tumbled across the floor (and collided with a wall) the Thin Man flashed, reappearing a meter or so more from his former position.

Static particles and crackling sparks sizzled across his grainy threads, as he went about straightening his jacket and smoothing a rumpled crease in his hat. He hummed to himself, irritated by the ravaged book lost in the scuffle. The loss was not great, the damage the tome suffered likely made it unreliable as a source. Still, he abhorred his things being tarnished.

With a wet gargle, the Viewer launched at him. The arms flopped at its knees, its crooked and mangled face flashing with signal distortions and jiggling.

When it reached him, the Thin Man snared it by the shoulders and whipped around. He shoved the flailing adult at a blank wall, but when the Viewer smashed into the impervious surface, the timber and plaster burst into clumps of powder. The Viewer crashed into the next room but kept going, rolling reminiscent of a rabid log across the cluttered room and bounding through another wall. Beyond the next barrier lay nothing but lashing rain and spiraling mist. The debris of partially vaporized metal and wood formed a miniature cyclone around the spinning Viewer, before it plunged out of sight. The grotesque shriek faded out, to be replaced by the soothing prattling of droplets on freshly exposed floorboards.

The Thin Man rewound into his prim and proper posture, giving his sleeves a brisk dusting. He preferred not getting involved with the Denizens of the Signal, but such confrontation was… aberrant. More bizarre than his own existence, (er, outside of the Tower). This was not the first event he dealt with. The first account of a Viewer mowing him over went dismissed as a fluke – the creatures being neither graceful or practical in their pursuits.

If no television was immediately accessible, Viewers typically sought escapism in trivial things – typically noises, bright lights, or other drastic changes in their environment. Such as small nuisances.

The door that the Viewer smashed down, actually led into the room where the Viewer went tumbling through as well. Over on a desk, the television caroled with cheerful tunes, the images behind the static fluttered with exaggerated animations of stiff caricatures and a parody of bliss.

This was a matter of concern. However, not as concerning as the sounds the buildings was now chattering with. The walls of the room, and the shredded portal where the Viewer toppled out of, growled with a hideous threat. The buckled paneling up and down began fraying, silt rained from the ceiling and functioning lights began to sputter out. Like thread splinting on a worn rope, bits of tinder and fibrous wood flung loose, the floor beneath his shoes began to roll and arch. The floor cracked and a portion sunk downward, dipping out of view.

The Thin Man raised his arms, but thought better of this redundant action. He doubted the boy would be nearby. Instead, he removed himself from the location entirely, and relocated.

From his new vantage point, a window directly across from the crumbling titan, the Thin Man stood impartial but observing. As the skyrise lost fortitude and came undone, he stood behind one of the long windowpanes. Most of the glass had shattered out of the frame, some remnants lay glittering upon the moldy carpet. This was not far from the building, nonetheless, he held no concerns.

The construct seemed to disintegrate, the cement walls dispersed as a fine dust while bars of metal and timber churned within the mishmash of mortar. A fierce sigh rushed across the windows, misting them with the ash of the fallen monolith. Suddenly, the building was no more, a gaping wound swirled in the dust rising in absence of a mighty sentinel. The mottled patterns of dust washed across the nearest buildings, the layers of soot bled and run away, forming tear tracks across the windows and ruined slabs of brick.

The Thin Man reached for the cigarette at his lips, but found the end obliterated in his confrontation with the Viewer. With a clean sigh, he flicked the stub away. The windows still vibrated with the memory of the fall, even after the tall thin man dissolved from the gloomy passage.

This arbitrary collision with a denizen of the signal does not leave his thoughts altogether, but he struggled not to ponder it too deeply. He was no stranger to the irrational bursts of the Viewers, even with a blasting television with the most enticing melodies, the beings could be distracted by something else. Though that was rare, and typically a trait unique to one Viewer.

However, these ponderings waned as his own focus drilled into other pursuits. The general layout of a putrescent city, the way the skewered roads snapped or curved and became swallowed within the ribcage of a fallen skyrise. If he could manage, he would prefer avoiding a route through the doors of a looming structure – with far too many corridors.

__

Nothing in particular stood out when he returned to the dwelling, where the boy had hidden as of late. He barely flashed from the lower floor, to the doorway of the residence, and glitched into the living area in a sizzling-pop.

He could not fathom why the boy lurked here. The structure itself was more decrypt, the floors ruptured in places, the furniture ruined, and tattered scraps of clothing discarded. As ever and always, he puzzled over the castoffs and the meaning.

While stepping past a crate, he nudged it with his shoes. Some insects evacuated the shelter. The Broadcast did not afford him unlimited insight into the past and once ways of the world; by his understanding, it could not resurrect a dead history. Instead, it recreated something, and offered that illusion to the gullible Viewers. Much of what he inherited came from the delusions of a dream, with only a vague grasp of snippets with no context and no meaning. The city languished, encrusted by the relics of a forgotten population. For a time, Denizens of the Signal struggled to maintain that lifestyle discarded by their ancestors, though, they could not hold the illusion for long. After the late events, he doubted they had illusions to throw themselves into.

The shared transmission cued him onto the child’s location. Along the way to the other rooms, in the opposite direction of the living space. He leaned down to peer into the room, and decide how to go about avoiding the kid.

Thankfully, something had nailed down the kid’s focus. He grimaced at the savagery the child undertook for the sake of gnawing out chunks. A genuine beast, no redeeming, and completely—

What was he chewing on?

The Thin Man inched into the room, his head struggling to grapple with what he already suspected, and his thoughts brawling against the horrific truth. It could not possibly be, but waging war with the fact was counterproductive.

His shadow draped over the boy, and with a choked grumble the child launched into a random direction. With the cigarette stub clutched in his arms. This could be the answer to why the boy was an unhinged brute.

“N̶̘̕Õ̴͜!̷̤͌ ̴͉̈ T̵͔̃h̶̩̓a̴͙͌t̸̫͒ ̵̢͗ I̷̭̎s̸͈̓ ̶̮͐ Ń̸̲o̸̳̚t̶̜̑ ̸̤̔ F̸̮̏o̵͕͊ỏ̴̺d̷͈̈!̶̱̌” He lunged for the boy, missing when his target zipped off the tables surface. A swift flick of his wrist sent the table sailing, opening a clear path to the child. The boy tore into another direction, the hat he wore was tucked low over his eyes as the child bounced across gaps in the floor panels. “N̴͕͝Ỏ̴̬!̵̨̃ ̶̖̂ N̵̗͆o̷̱͐N̶̺̍o̴̪̓N̷͙̎O̵̜͂N̷̺͠O̵̩̒Ń̵̤O̶̗̅!̵̯̎ ̵͈͊ M̶̨̈́O̷̢̿N̷̠̎Õ̶̪!̶͍͑”

The brat ducked behind a collapsing desk, but no sooner was the child out of sight did the man in the hat swing his arm back. “S̸̰͝t̶̮̄ȍ̷̭ṕ̶̝ ̴̟͒ R̵͓̂i̴̛̦g̸̭̾h̸̝̅ṭ̸͊ ̸̙̊ Ṫ̵͈h̷̹͋e̸̻͋r̴͓͝ë̷͕́!̶͕̑” This infuriating beast shot in another direction, while trying to tear into the stub more than ever!

In a glittery flash he arched above the boy, limbs canopied outward – well, his arms. “S̸̱̍t̸̙̊ö̷͉́p̶͉̂!̴̢́ ̴̪͛  D̵͓̀r̵̀͜o̷̗̊p̷̖̉ ̴͓̚ I̷͔̍T̷̙̕!̵͠ͅ ̴̥͛ S̴̬͑T̶́͜Ǫ̷̓P̸̣̊ ̸̥̄ M̸̳̌O̶͙̅V̵̮͘I̷̭̐N̴͚̓G̶̰̈!̴̗̔”

Th boy generated a half-bark and smothered whines, as he ricocheted between his palms, but before getting seized the child managed to roll away. This idiot mongrel! Ẅ̴̥́a̸͎̚s̸̥̄!  N̵̔͜O̷̩̓T̷͎̄ ̵̲͆  E̴̺̎v̴̮̅e̶̦̕ņ̶͐ utilizing his lackluster abilities!

When the child made a bolt for the doorway, the Thin Man managed to snag the boy around his leg in a full-bodied lunge. And finally! The child relinquished his iron hold on his ‘prize’. The Thin Man reeled his long body back and rose to his knees; he fortified his grip and gave the child a hasty examination.

“W̸̢͘h̴̛͖y̵͉͗ ̴̰͂ A̷͇̔r̷̛ͅȇ̷̖ ̷͉̎ Ỳ̸̭o̶̢͝U̶̾͜ ̴̧͛ L̶̔͜i̶̢̒k̸̪̃E̸̙͐ ̵̗͐ T̶̹̽ḧ̴̫́i̸̝͛Š̴̭?̴̘̿ ̵̩̂ W̸̹͛Ḧ̴ͅỴ̶͛ ̷̠̾ Ǎ̵͉R̸̂͜Ḛ̵́ ̸͔͌ Ý̴̞Õ̸͕U̴͓̎ ̴̘̽ L̷̲͐Ĩ̷͙K̶͎͝E̶͙͗ ̵͚̐ T̶͕̄H̴̛̤I̵̻̿S̵̜̚!̸̯̒” Answers would not be a priority. His thoughts sank into how much did the boy eat? Oh Eye, how much did he Ë̸̮̼Ả̸͚̓͘T̴̢̘̃̑?̸͎̹̠͌͛̽͘  He would rather not fixate on the temptation, but instead gaped at the soot-stained face blinking up at him. Ĥ̸̰̝̝̇̈́o̸͔̎W̴͍̗̯͍̐͗ ̶̛̭̼̽ M̸̧̛̮͈̀̂u̷̢̺̦̹͎͋͂͠c̴̞͎͂̿̃Ḩ̴̡͓̰̿̒̚?̶̣̜͛

“S̸̠͝p̴͓̎i̴̱͐Ť̴̞!̴̠̏  A̵̡͌l̴̨͌l̶͚̕ ̵̦̄ O̷̤̔f̶͈̚ ̵̓͜ I̶̺̓ṭ̴̅!̴͉̂ ̵̦̔ G̷̫̽o̵̢͐ ̵͈͒ Ó̸̝N̸̮̿!̷̞̾” The boy mewled as he crushed his face in his fingers. “A̵͓̒L̷̟̈L̷͙̀ ̷͒ͅ Ò̴̦F̶̖̀ ̴̻͋ Ḯ̵̥T̵͔͒!̸͙̈” But Ĥ̸̰̝̝̇̈́o̸͔̎W̴͍̗̯͍̐͗ ̶̛̭̼̽ M̸̧̛̮͈̀̂u̷̢̺̦̹͎͋͂͠c̴̞͎͂̿̃Ḩ̴̡͓̰̿̒̚ did he Ś̸̱w̶̻͝à̵̢ḻ̸̔l̴̲̂o̵͕͌w̴̹͐?̶͇̑  He tightened his hands around the boy’s middle, trying to decide how to do this. Children vomited when they became ill from consuming toxins (it was very common), but if they did not purge enough poisons, and not soon… . Was there a way to induce vomiting in a child before it fell ill? Before all was lost!?

The child expelled the most repulsive noise when squeezed around the middle, but not nearly enough physical matter. “C̵͙̈́o̵͖͝u̵̹͝g̶̨̍ḧ̴̹ ̷̭͝ I̸͓͊ẗ̶͎́ ̸̹̈́ U̴̥̽p̸̘̐!̵͙͝ ̸͔͒ Y̴̧͌o̴̼̎ų̵̊ ̵̟͆ D̷̺̓o̵̧͗  ̵̰̍N̴̡͘O̷̬̎T̴͖̔ ̸̻̔ E̵̥̋ä̷̹t̷͙̏ ̷͎̀ T̶̻̀h̷̲͝a̴̛͔t̶̨̓!̸̢͋  N̵͎̿̒͊͘͝ͅO̶͓̠̰̟̒̆̚!̶̢̛͍̹̤̺̟͋̐̊̆” He had not ‘eaten’ in decades. For the existence of him, he could not recall what the last edible was that he could stomach. I̸͚͐̋ț̵͌͘ ̴̬͇̅̈́ C̵̗͈̈͂ḙ̵̛̕r̵͕̈́́t̸̳̭̽͝a̵̛̫î̵̥͋n̸͓͋̄l̶͓̖̂y̵̡̅ ̴̧̣͌̕  W̸̟̳̿a̴̯̔s̵̨̛̝͝ ̶̓͜ N̸̼͆͒ō̷̡t̸̜̄ ̵͔̂ A̶͇̖̎̃ ̶͚͎̈́ D̴̗̈́́a̶̪͑̾m̸̥̔͑n̵̼͉͊ ̷̹̈̑ C̵̟̑i̴͚̖͊g̷̺̚a̵͇̼̒r̵̬̦͛͘e̵̢̳̊t̸͕̘̅̈t̸͚̞̃e̶̗̓̀!̵̖̯͐̎ Though the child hung like a frayed rag in his hands, the body shook and convulsed with each squeeze. “K̶̩̟̂̅ë̴̹́e̵̛͔͆P̴͚̅ ̶̠̫̽̕ G̸͙̗̈́ó̸͇i̶̧̔͝n̷̼͂̀ͅG̶̰̓̎!̵̣͉͆ ̵͚̰̕ T̴̖̹́ḩ̵̩̓̋a̸̹͌T̴̰͋ ̶̳̯̓ Ȋ̸͍s̴̯̣͋͌ ̶͉̦̈̌ N̸̠̅ö̴̭̦T̵͓͑ ̶̳́̎ A̵̬̒̈l̵̪͗̾L̸̓ͅ ̸̘̓ Ö̶͎̩f̸̧̈́͘ ̸̲̅̓ Í̵͖̖͠ţ̸̤̊̈́!̵̗̀̏” To be honest, he had no idea how much the child had choked down. One of two things would kill the boy, it was best to be certain.

“F̴̡͌o̴͍̽ö̷͓́ḏ̸͐,” the boy gargled. Between Tower-awful retches. “Tuh food—” He broke into hacking and wheezes, punctuated by disgusting black sludge.

“Y̸̭̟͛͗o̶̹̒u̸̬̚ ̸̡̌͌ D̶̼͗̏o̸̺̾ ̶̞̔ N̶̪̑ö̶̤͓́͝t̴̠̃  ̸̤͉̅E̶͉̺͌a̴̝̋T̵̠̒̀ ̵̱̀͛ T̷̠͝h̴͇̥̐̆ă̸͚̓T̸̘̥̾́!̵̗͑ ̵̖̌ Į̸͈̊t̴̢̻̍͝ ̷̙͓̀ I̷̡̐ṣ̸̈̒ͅ ̸̦̓ N̷̡͚͋̊ǒ̷̡͈Ť̷̼̘̀ ̶̰̫̀͝ F̵̧̒̊Ȯ̴̗̰O̵̹̹̍D̴̳͔͊́!̵̰̏” It did not appear more was coming up, aside from bile and some brown… he was afraid to dwell. He did try to coerce further contents up, but it seemed that was everything of peril.

The static crowded the small room, and threatened to ignite the only bulb dangling center above his hat. The child’s own hat had gone scarce, and the body trembled in his palms. This idiot boy. He was so intent on dying and destroying them both, not that he would have enduring issue beyond the deed. He could not leave this child to his own devices, without the boy demolishing something. Eating some… Ǧ̶̭͖̜̫̿͂̎̌Ą̷̛̺̳̟̮͇̏R̷̛̜̯̟͇̄͋̐̅̇͗́B̴̫͉̫̯̦̗̎Á̶̜̹̱͔̝͚͘G̴̛̗͇̖͖̗̔̎É̶͎̰̘͛̏̔͆̄͑͝!̷̦͓̥̀ right off the ground.

Once his nerves had settled a smidgen, he rolled the child over on his palm. “Ň̴͜o̸̢͋T̴͒ͅ ̷̠̚  F̷̫́ò̵̬o̴̩̍D̷͕͛!̴͔̎ ̷̛̰  D̴̮́ő̴̧ ̵̤̈  Y̸̜͝o̸̲̅u̵̜̎ ̸̗̓  F̸͐͜O̴̤̽L̴͎̍L̵̮͒Ȯ̸̘W̵̌͜?̴̨͊ ̷͍̉  Ṫ̴͜h̵͎̉a̸̲͊T̸͓͝ ̵̫͘  W̵̫͝i̴̦͘l̸͕̔Ḻ̸͘ ̶̓ͅ  M̷̮̂a̷͉͂k̶͙̂Ê̷̗ ̵͍͂  Ÿ̴̙́ö̶̧́U̷̙̽ ̷̝̈́  S̵͙̾i̶͈͌c̶͉̑K̷̹̏!̸̘͆” The boy did his best to stare, one eye slanted and his face fouled from vomit.

The boy mumbled and tried to curl down behind his arms.

“NONO! L̸̫̆o̸̝͝o̶̪͑Ǩ̷̡ ̶̺̀ Ḁ̸͌t̷͚̀ ̵͍́ M̵̧̋e̵̠͠!̴̯̀ ̶̛̞ T̸͈͊e̷̱̊L̵̟͐L̷̮͐ ̵͇̂ M̵̢͠ȩ̸̓!̶̟͊ You understand!” He brushed the arms off the face. “Look at me! Ţ̸̓h̴̺͐a̴̩̒T̶͍̂ ̸̨̚  I̶͎̚s̵̖̊ ̷̱̏  Ń̵͕ỏ̶̝Ṱ̵͐ ̵̮̅  G̸̭̾ǫ̷̐ó̵̢Ḏ̸͠ ̷̥́  F̵̤̊o̵͚͒R̴̰̆ ̸̪̆  Y̸͕͌ǫ̸͛U̴̗͑!̵̡̄ ”

The boy wheezed. “Y’eat.”

“Ỉ̸͜ ̸̰̄ D̵̪̒Ọ̸͆ ̴͕̾ N̶̲̋Ŏ̶̭T̵͖̓ ̶̪̾ E̴̥̋A̷̞̒Ṯ̵́ ̷͚̽ T̶̓ͅH̵̱͑Ă̷̮Ṫ̸̟.̸̫̚  N̷͙̊͌E̵̢̋V̴͈̆É̷̬̑R̶̢͓͒!̷̟̹̃͂  A̵̬̰̓̃m̶͙̳̽̃ ̶̪̟̚ I̶̡̽ ̸̀͜ Ǵ̴̫̟̕ẹ̷̆̓ͅt̷̟͌̑t̶͍͘ỉ̶̥͚n̵̰͠G̵̔ͅ ̵̞̂ T̷̰̈́͝ͅh̷̲̪̅̓ŕ̷̜ò̴̼u̶̮͗͝g̵̤͒͛H̴̨̬̿̔ ̶̗̅ T̵̢̳͘o̶̡͗̑ ̵͎̼̃ Y̶̌̆͜ọ̶̀͑Ụ̷͔̄͋!̴̨̋͑  Tell me! Do your speek!” The child stayed frustrating and uncooperative. A lump of skin in coat in the idea of a child. He gave the boy a shake. “What do I want from Y̸̡̩̙̣̥̹͊́̆́̊͆ô̷͍͕͌̂͑U̷̙̓̀̇!̸̻̺̉̏ Make that S̷̗͈̎͛͠p̶̘̱̈́̃ê̴̮͎e̵̢͚̯̘͕̎K̸̡͈̻̝̝͍͐̇! You know how to D̴̤̙̑o̶̭̼̓̕ ̶̩͎̀ T̷̤̰̉͑h̵͍̓͒i̴̗̠̽̏S̵͈̝̆!̷̖̞́̔  Y̸̪̦̕Ŏ̵̼U̷̡̻̐͌ ̶͖̏̇ K̵̃͜N̴̤̄̇O̷̪̭̊Ẃ̴͙̞̌!̸̼̅͠ͅ ̴̜͘  Y̸̟̆͠O̴͍̦̊U̴̙̕ ̴̡̿̊  K̵͙͔͊̏N̴̯̈́O̴͈͛̈́͜W̵̨̛̍ ̵͙̬̎͌  W̸͎͒͠H̷̖͂ͅÃ̵̺̬̏T̴̛̘ ̸̻͊̉͜  I̶̤͝͠ ̵̩͌͐  A̵͔͌̀S̵̜̎K̷͖̻͗!̶̠̾͠” The boy stole a breath,

“...ᵒᵏᵃʸ...��

Why was he so D̸̓̄̌͌͂̍͜i̷̧̱͎͙̱̺̔f̵̜͙̥̪̖͕̾͗̀̊ḟ̵̩̍̔̌̽̐͠i̷̗̲͈͍̗͆̄͂̄c̶͍̳̹̼͔̮̀̓̌ư̵̺̦̘̄͐̏̓̊l̸̯̙͍̟̝̠̥͗t̶̢̨̛̬͔̫̉̓͋̉̍͐͜?̸̻̫̘̑

“N̶̲̩̦̭̳̽̈͂̂͋Ò̷̻̣̠͎̳͛!̵̣͒̌  S̵̞̔a̶̗͊y̶̚ͅ,̵̤̌ ̵̖̈́  ‘̷̲̅I̶̯͊ ̴̼̅ U̷̝͐ń̸̻d̶̮̐ȩ̴͂r̴͛͜S̴̫̽t̸̡͝a̸͇͝ṇ̸̋D̸̡̍’̶̙͊.̷̜̕  ̸̟͝ Ṯ̶͆h̵͙̉a̶̙̍t̵̗̆ ̸͕̓  Ş̶́p̸̳͠ȅ̴̟ȇ̷̟ḱ̴͉!̵̜̐ ̴͖̿  T̸͇͂e̶̲͌l̸̪̈́l̸̺̀ ̵̓͜  M̶̫̆ẽ̷ͅ ̷̹̾  Y̴̰͠ö̸͍́ù̶̺ ̸͎̓  W̴̹͘ȋ̷͉l̷̜̋l̴̼̚ ̷̮̊  N̴̯̔Ë̸̞́V̴͎̊E̴͚͠R̸̙͝ ̶̟̾  D̷̢͒o̷̙̔ ̷͈͌  T̵̥͝h̵̏ͅa̷̰͝t̴̔ͅ ̶͖̐  A̴͍͘g̸̡̚a̵̪͝í̶̮ṉ̴̔!̸̠̏ ̴̺̀ I̸̩̔ ̵̭̔ W̴͚̕a̸͖͘ṋ̵̇t̶͈̄ ̴̪͗  T̸͈͊o̵̖͋ ̴̬̌  Ȟ̶̨ẻ̵͕ȃ̶̡r̵̫̄ ̴͜͝  T̷͙͋ḥ̶͊a̷͉͗ṯ̵͊ ̷͖̂  F̸̳͑r̸͕̉ȏ̷͇m̵̪̈́  Y̴̛͉̱͂̚͠Ǫ̵͚̣̯͋̐̽͝Ư̵̧͇͍͙͑̚͝͝!̶̯͚̜͋͐̏͘͝” At last, the child began squirming.

“Down. Lemme… un’hurt.”

He fortified his grip and brought the boy closer to his eyes. “Not until you M̶̤̈́a̴̦͒k̸̤͒e̴̜͂ ̶͓̮̃ T̵͖̗̈́h̵̢̀͜a̴̠̖͋t̷̘̅̚ ̵̩̊ S̷̢̩̑̃p̸͉̬͂̀ẻ̵̮͙ḙ̷̼͐͊ḱ̸͇.̴̠͚͐ I am not hurting you.” He pinned the boys arms down. “I am A̷̪͓̿ș̶̓͜k̵̤̣͑i̸͙̾n̵͖̐g̶͍͂͒ ̸͊͜ F̷̞̹̎o̴̙͗́r̸̨̅̃ a response, boy. You will not C̸̥̽ó̸̮͍̓m̴̛͓͍p̷̣̆l̶̝̤͝í̶̯̻c̶̼̅â̶̱̝t̷̼͔͠E̷͈͆͛ ̷̯̇  T̸̢̘̒͝h̸̟̫̊͌ị̵͍̇̑S̵̰͝.̸̼͗̈́” He could not relent, or the child would go and do it all over. Had the child been eating the stubs? If so, what else was this boy E̴̩̣̓ả̴̬͝ͅt̵̠̏i̶̳͑ͅn̷̦̍͗ͅḡ̸̜̖ while unsupervised. That was most troublesome to confront. He was about to interrogate further, but the child was burbling his noises. Clumsy, as ever.

“Eh’kay. Er… n’der-stan. S’at. Und-Ehh…ahh’sand. T’at. Y’on’t Wah’do  ah‘gain. No. NoNo. Un’sand. Ah…stand. No.”

The Thin Man watched the child intently, debating if he should pursue his other suspicions and excavate the truth. That did not seem so important, while he observed the boy and listened to his gruff mutterings repeated verbosely. No. From here on, he would keep closer track of the child’s habits. He exhaled, and rubbed a thumb over the boy’s shoulder.

“That will do.” The twitchiness he could excuse, this time. The boy did not comply with his demands, aside from appeasing him. “You will not B̷̼̙͆e̵̖̮̓̿ ̴͎̼̄̅ N̵̤͖̊̀a̵̙̕̕u̵͔̜̕g̶͈̐h̷̳̬̀t̸̺̄̓ý̶͍͚́ and do that again? S̸͍̎c̶̨̛r̴̪̀ą̶͊t̶̰̆ç̵̐ĥ̷̤  ̸̧͐A̷̗̒r̴̹͊o̵̪��u̵͇͌n̸̯͊ḏ̸͗ ̷̢̈́ A̵͕̕n̷͙̒d̷̊ͅ E̸̡͐â̸̡t̸͂́͜ ̸̙̽  F̵̊ͅi̶͎͇̒l̶̤̀̾ͅt̶̩͈̉h̴̙͓̕ ̴̦̓  A̷̩̒n̷̞͕̈̇d̶̪̩̀ ̴̜̟̂  R̸̫̮̆ṵ̶̖̾b̷̡̢͆b̶͇̭̀͝i̷̥̤̎ṡ̶̜͌ḧ̵͇̟́̀ ̶̐͜ ? T̶͍̊ͅh̸̻̓ǎ̸̪͜ẗ̸̮́ ̷̞͐̽ W̴̠̠̍̊i̷̔͝ͅl̴̢̅͝ľ̷̜̥̂ ̴̹̓͌  M̵̨̪̂a̷̡̭̐͆k̷͕̀̏ê̷̙̔ ̸̤͉̎̿  Y̶̱̬͐̓ô̶͉̻u̸̺̞̒ ̷̺̚  Ì̷̼l̸͊̍͜l̸̙̒͘.” The boy was back to his guarded silence. Very well. “That is not good for you. Do I Ṃ̷̐a̴̝̿k̶̖͝e̶̤͘  ̶̞̞͊̀ M̴̙̼͒y̵̗̍s̷̙̀̈́e̵̥̮͌̄l̸̏͊ͅf̵̙̃͐ ̴́̒ͅ  C̴͙͖̀͘l̷̖̥͌e̶̱̕ͅå̸̼̜r̴̦͍̓̽?̵̢͙̋”

The boy still shivered between his palms, and he looked more ashen than usual. Only time would tell whether this interference had been enough, or if any of his pursuit would amount to anything more than a repeat of this crisis. All he had was time. All the time in the….

With a hasty glimmer, he returned to a normal stance and shimmered within a ripple of static. A dull pop greeted his displacement, upon arriving within the archway of the kitchen. He kicked aside wrappers and containers on his way to the sink. Wisps of crackling static snapped drawer doors open, while his free hand rummaged for essential supplies - despite the abundance of cutlery or odd items meant for meal prep, among rows of junk. At last he a hovel of rags sprouted from a musty slot and stole one up. A curl of glittery sparks dealt with the handle of the tap, and greasy a trickle began in the stained basin. The hand gripping the towel tapped at the countertop, as he waited for the sludge to clear out.

Throughout this, the boy remained passive in his grip, even as he set him on the counter. After all the erratic disasters of the child just zooming off despite a need for examination, the Thin Man kept his grip latched on the boy’s middle. Should the child need an activity, he set a spare rag on the spindly legs. Once the water from the faucet cleared, he dunked the rag into the stream and began wringing – one handed. With the fabric dampened, he began brushing off the dry soot from the coat, and soaking the child’s greasy face. The little mongrel was complicit, likely biding for the desired opportune moment to launch. Not on his watch. He scrubbed some of the dirt and black streaks out of the hair, then worked a bit on the face when the grime at last began to melt. This was going very well. He could even ignore the eyes gaping at him, if he moved the boys head and concealed the pale face with a thumb.

“Mm,” the voice croaked, as he worked to soak some of the stains embedded in his backside. “Do… n’like. Am’eh?”

Once more, what the Tower?

“Mmm?” He tried to push the face away and focus on some of the more stubborn discoloration, like the B̴̮̈́l̴͉̰̄ö̵̼͝o̴̪̹͐̽d̶̝͒ on the sleeves. Despite his efforts, the boy managed to glimpse him. He subverted the issue by rotating the child around, and focused on the grease embedded in the coat. How in the Eye was it possible to be more grunge than fiber?

“Like’am. Do like to am? Mono? Like am... does like'am? I am Mono.” The Thin Man puzzled over the butchered phrasing. Ah.

“Do I… like you?” The boy tried to glance over his shoulder and nod. Hmm. “No. Not particularly. Why?” He rinsed the rag out of black gruel. Yuck. The boy needed proper cleaning, but he was not enthused by the prospect and all the drama that would entail. “What gave you an idea like that?” A minor squelch of static cut the tap off, and he resumed dabbing at the coat.

The boy shrugged. Predictable. What reason did the child have for strange ideas? Children did not reflect on much beyond their own world. All of the boy’s ambitions came from a self-serving mindset. That is why he and this child languished in such a stalemate. The child managed to release the man in the hat, but faltered at the brink of satisfying his purpose.

“There is much to discover in this world, Á̵͎n̸̝͗d̷͙̔ ̶̬̅ Ö̵̺́f̷̧̈́ ̸̣̐ Y̴͇̎ȍ̷̝ṳ̵͆r̶̢̚ ̶̣̚ P̷̹̆l̶̫͘a̷͕̓c̴̳̃e̷̝̎m̷͕̉ẹ̶͆n̶̺̿t̴̠̽.̴̡͂” He wiped the dirt stains off the hands and examined each of the fingers. Who would have known there was a whole child under all that gunk? “And no one T̵̨̟̍̀ö̴͚̚  ̶̤͇̔̀ G̵̛̣u̸͇̖͑̍i̵͕͐̚ͅd̷̨͇̂̓e̸̯̰͆ ̶͓̝̎ Y̵̥͑̓ŏ̷̪̠͝ṷ̶́.̸̧̝̍”

Once upon a time, he thought all the answers he wanted would come, if he managed to seize the catalyst of all his problems. What he did not know was that he was still on the other side of the door, awaiting a peek within.

“You believe you are deserving of something more. Ỉ̸̭ŝ̵͜ ̵͈͠  T̶͚̐h̷̟͒a̷̤̓ţ̴͗   ̴̧́Ï̸̝ṱ̵̈́?̴͕̊” He tried to think of the districts he wandered, of what he sought in those oppressive roads and empty buildings. What did he see when gazing into the skyline, and the Signal Tower glared back? He was angry and lost and alone, just like the child he was before the Tower accepted him. As it were, took him back. His prison and the sanctuary of his melancholy.

The boy squirmed around in his grip, until he was fully twisted around and staring at him. And hugging the rag left on his knees. Most of the quivering had dispelled, though the boy would forever be jittery. Nothing would ever rehabilitate such imprinted instincts.

“I said a lot to you, didn’t I?” He rung the rag one final time and soaked at the shadowed-haze lingering over the strange little eyes. “Something about ‘undoing crimes and make amends’, hmm? S̴͕̔o̷̦͝m̴̜̽ë̵̗ ̵̯͆ T̵̛̮h̴̟̀ị̵̏ṉ̶̛g̸͉͊s̴̗̎ ̸̩͐ N̷͍̈ė̵͖v̶͇̆è̸͕r̷͈͒ ̸̮̀ C̸̮͠h̵̨̛a̵͚͌n̶̠̚g̶̢͒e̸̛ͅ.̴̖͝ ̸̅ͅ  H̷̬͘e̴̅͜h̸̦̽-̸̨̋h̷͈͂ę̶͗h̴͍͠.̸̳̎” The boy leaned into his palm and shut his eyes. “Alas, that is not who I am. This is not O̷̩̚ư̴͓r̷̲̎ ̴͉̈́  R̵̢̓o̷͚̾l̴̊͜ĕ̶͔ ̷̯͋  I̷̖͒n̸͕̽ ̴̟̍  Ț̶͘h̶̳̋ì̸̺s̴͙̍ ̶̞̕  W̸̬̊o̷̩̚r̵̛̘l̸͖̐d̶͓̃.̶̘́ Everything…. All of it Ḯ̶͉ṡ̴͚ ̵͇̈́ P̶̙̀o̸͇͐ì̴̻n̸̹͐t̸́ͅl̵̠̑ĕ̶͇ṣ̸͘ș̷̽.̷̛̤” He chucked the damp rag into the bottom of the sink, prompting the boy to wince and blink up at him.

“We are not meant for this.”

“R’not to company?” The Thin Man frowned, but carefully rubbed the back of the boys head.

“You are... not really company. The way you are... you are not right. That will all be amended, and you will have your world back. T̷̢̚h̷̘͘ȩ̶̚ ̸̩̓ W̸͕̓a̷̻͌y̶̥̓ it was meant Ṫ̷̹o̸̹̓ ̶͓͗ P̷̩͑l̵̡͘a̶̻͒y̶̠͗ ̷͎̔ O̷͙͂u̴̖͆t̸̗̏.̷̬̃  T̶̫̅h̷̫͘ḯ̵̗ŝ̶͓ ̷͇̈ I̴͓̾s̴̯͛ all an E̷̗̋l̶͉̽a̵̾͜b̶̛͔ȯ̸̢r̶̹͌ḁ̷́t̵͍̀ḙ̶̑  ̷̪̋G̵̥͂a̴̓ͅm̷͚̕è̵̡, wherein we A̶̻͝r̴͈͒ȅ̵̹ ̷̳̀ Ť̵̳h̴͍́e̸̳͘ ̴̝͆ P̸͚̈a̷͗͜w̵̠͛n̴̗̑s̷̲̀, and very little agency to Ā̷̖l̸̨̒t̸̼͝e̵̛͇r̶̢̔ ̶͉̏ T̵̺͠h̷͖̑e̸̤͑ ̴̲̓ E̸͙̊v̸̬̓e̷̬͑n̴͖̓t̴̗̎ṷ̷̈́a̷̼̔l̵̖̅s̴̪͆ of D̶͚̏ę̸̛s̴̻̎t̴̳̑í̷̯n̵̘̆ȳ̵͍.̷͙̀” A miniscule huff flexed between his fingers. No denying he had nothing worth giving the boy, but the child would have to live with disappointments. Such as his self.

“It is beyond what you can comprehend, but it will reach you later.” He patted the boy on his back. “Much later, but all the same. Yours. Then all your questions will be answered, and you will know more than you E̵̻͗v̴̹͠ë̶̬́r̴͚̓ ̵̞̈́ Ć̴͈ä̸͔́r̶͓̀e̵͖̐d̴̼̊ ̴̰́ T̶͔̍o̴̠͗.̸̹̕ Perhaps, more than you C̸͖͆ó̴͔u̷̻̒ḽ̷̈d̶̙͆ ̸̜̔ Ĥ̴͓á̶̺v̵͉̉e̷̖̾ ̷̳̚ P̷̜̕r̵̥̋é̸̳p̵͍̀a̴̡̕r̷͓͠e̴͇̅d̵͓̕ ̴̪̀ F̴͌͜o̸̩͋r̵͙͆.̷̟̐”

A soft hum and a cough, rattled the boys chest. He rubbed the boy’s back, until the gagging soothed out.

“It will make sense when you arrive where you belong. I will be there, and you will know all is… W̶̖̒ę̴̕l̶͙̎l̸̤̑.̵̘͑” The boy fumbled between his hands, trying to look at him.

“But is for’gether. That important. Have Mono.”

Pointless ideas that died in the perpetually dying world. “Why is it important? Tell me. W̸̱̌h̵̦̾ỳ̶̭?̸̰͒” The child was satisfied to fiddle with the cufflink on his wrist, and probably wanted to bite him again. If he was not cautious, the child might try eating him.

 “Mm… same. Have same.”

He snorted and giggled. Oh, this poor boy. Could learn nothing. Why bother with any of his hard earned lessons.

“We are too much same,” the Thin Man hummed. “It does not work. Ị̸̀t̷͙͠ ̵̦̓N̶̖̆ȇ̶̼v̸̨̋e̵͉̎r̴̃͜ worked. G̶̤̈́õ̶̯i̸̭͌n̵̯͝ĝ̸̫ ̷͙͌F̵̛̫o̶͉̿ṛ̵͗w̵̡̏a̶͇͘r̵̳͠d̵̞͂,̵͉̈́ ̸̰̂ it shall Ǹ̶͍è̷̜ṽ̵̧ę̴͒r̴͖̉ ̶͇̆Ẃ̸̫o̴̘̾r̷̨͘ḱ̶̗.̶̗͝ ̶̮̆T̶̜̓h̶̩̆a̶̡̛t̵̞̒ too you will H̸̟̉a̴͖̿v̶̖̈́ẽ̵̢ ̴̭̔ to ̵̨͑learn for Y̷̤̕o̵̗̓ů̵̬r̵̲͘š̷̺e̵̺̒l̴̯͝f̵͎̾.̴͈̆ ̷̗͘W̶̥͝h̷̛̯â̸̝ṫ̴ͅe̷̛͜v̵̦͝e̸͙̕r̴̗͝ ̷̼̌H̷͖̄â̵ͅp̷̛͔p̶̥͛e̵͇̔n̶̙͠s̸͇͌,̸̱̑whatever you do ̴͎͒N̶͖͐ő̶̡t̵̬͆h̸͊͜i̶̩̐ñ̴̮g̸̏͜ will ever change. W̵̰͊e̴̝̾ ̶̰̽ do not C̵̫͝h̷͚͆a̶̤͐n̵̡̽g̸̼̿e̸̞̓.̸͔̀”

That one constant was an assuring promise. After everything he broke and ruined, there was something to return to. A Place awaiting to erase everything. He could rewind it all and start over. Even if he would miss the child, just a bit. The boy had these moments that came from somewhere distance, and beyond the reach of the treacherous Signal Tower. But as the cycle foretold, all events and machinations would come to their conclusion. The world would be erased, and once more a child would return to the world - a child brimming with ruthless passion, curiosity, and idealistic fantasies. For a blink in the timeline, that boy had someone something to fight for - until his world was crushed and cast aside.

In the meantime, he needed to explain a few things to the boy.

Next

#little nightmares #the thin man #thin dad #mono #feral mono #tw: smoking mention #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the thin man having the roughest day #dealing with viewers #going home and finding his kid smoking #mono is a child who is loyal to his thin man and will never abandon him

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 5

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4

So I've been having a week and I decided I needed a pick-me-up in the form of unleashing some angst on you all, so sorry to those who wanted me not to skip ahead a bit, you'll get the full story on AO3.

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

For a bit of context since I'm skipping a small part, this is the second day after the first chapter, Jason is still feeling good and having another good pit-less day.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the W-Mart unmolested. His backpack was heavy with its load of stolen protein bars and trail mix. He’d so far not had to return to the same store twice, but this one was in the roughest neighborhood he’d visited so far and he’d felt sure even if nobody saw him steal anything that he’d be stopped. There had definitely been some suspicious looks directed towards him from the staff.

Now he just had to find a nice hidden nook to disappear from so he didn’t alert anyone. Couldn’t have people start talking about someone disappearing into thin air. Pulling his hood up he started walking along the sidewalk in a random direction eyes lowered so he hopefully wouldn’t piss anyone off by making eye contact. This did not seem like a part of the city he wanted to make eye contact with anyone in. With his rotten luck any thugs would find his face just as offensive as Dash always seemed to do.

His breath caught cold in his throat and he froze mid step. His head snapped up instantly locking on the other ghost, no the not-ghost, the man, the one with red helmet, except he wasn’t wearing a helmet now. He stood there, still like Danny in the sea of moving people, black hair except for a white streak at the front, strong jawline, his eyes were blue - wide in recognition. Shit! He had to leave!

Friend, his core sang insistently. He completed the step forward. That red T-shirt under the open leather jacket looked so soft. No stiff body armor today, just soft cotton, he could just curl up there-

Danny gasped, eyes blown wide. He shook his head, he needed, he needed to get away. Now. Now body! He wasn’t moving. He wanted, he wanted so badly to move forward, his core promised him friend and safety and connection. He just had to go to the other ghost. He was so tired of being alone, he couldn’t last like this. But he was wrong. His core was wrong. That wasn’t a ghost. That was a man, a man of flesh and bone and warmth and touch and- STOP!

His fingers gripped into his hair painfully. Good, grounding. Breathe in, two, three, out… slow and steady, he could do that.

A hand entered his field of vision.

“Hey…” the voice was soft, softer than the voice that had come out of the helmet, but Danny knew, knew in his core, this was the man, the ghost, not-ghost- the hand came closer.

He bolted.

“Hey!”

Danny didn’t look back, he just ran. He weaved between protesting people. His broken ribs hurt with every deep breath, with every jolt of his shoes hitting the pavement; a reminder that this was not a friend, just another one of the vigilantes.

Something grabbed his backpack and he came to a dead stop, hanging from the worn straps for one heart stopping second as he was pulled backwards off balance.

“Will you stop for a moment!” The voice growled.

Danny met the other’s angry eyes and for just a fraction of a second, he could have sworn they were green not blue, then his instincts kicked in and he turned intangible, sinking through his backpack straps and into the ground.

Danny shivered, holding on to himself, staying just under the pavement. Boots pounded restlessly above him as the other man paced. He could not hear the curses he was spilling, but the tone of voice came through even muffled.

This was for the best. He dared not contemplate what would happen to him should he actually get captured.

Even so he couldn’t help the mournful call of his core. A call that wouldn’t be answered.

Because that man was not a ghost.

Oo o oO

Jason paced angrily, cursing up a storm. He’d had him right there. And still he’d slipped away. Frustration crawled under his skin like bugs. He snarled and looked at the worn purple backpack in his arms. It was old, and bore the evidence of multiple more or less successful repair jobs. Parts of the fabric were singe, and there were dark stains in places that could have been from any number sources, Jason suspected blood was one of them.

The thought set off another round of pacing and cursing. It didn’t help any that he felt sure the Ghost was still close. As if he could just reach out and grab him and stop that bone chilling sadness he felt. He had been so close.

A growl of frustration rose in his chest. He stopped and took a deep breath. Anger wasn’t helping him. He had to think. There could be some identifying information in the backpack. Juggling it up into his arms he unzipped it so he could look inside.

He froze.

He had noticed it was full, but this was not what he expected to find.

Jason slammed the backpack down on the console in front of Bruce - he wasn’t sure how he got to the cave, it didn’t matter. Bruce, dressed like he’d just been sneaking some work in before having to go golfing or something similarly inane, looked from the veritable mountain of protein bars spilling out of the worn bag to Jason looming above him. He leaned back in the chair and raised an eyebrow in question, unfazed always so unfazed.

“He’s not a villain, Bruce, he needs help,” he growled, his helmet darkened his voice, but also masked the way it shook. The Ghost haunted him; hollow eyed, shaking and panicked, with clothes that hung loose on his thin frame and this, now this. Jason paced. If this was all he ate…

Bruce leaned over examining the backpack, he was frowning. Jason hated when he frowned like that: disapproval. Always disapproving, never good enough. His fists clenched.

“This belongs to the thief?”

Of course it belonged to the thief! Was he being willfully stupid? Some Worlds Greatest Detective.

“He needs help,” Jason insisted.

Bruce carefully turned the chair to face him, calculating, judging. Jason forced himself to stand still.

“It’s very possible,” Batman finally spoke, “but we can’t dismiss the idea that he’s working for someone.”

Dismissal. It felt like a slap. Why was he always like that? Why couldn’t he trust him for once? No Batman always knew best, always had to be right. Always so goddamn rightful.

“Jay-“ the voice was soft, worried.

Jason blinked, and suddenly noticed the green reflected on the inside of his helmet. In another blink it was gone, and he saw his hands gripped in Bruce’s soft creme sweater where he’d pulled him to his feet, to do what? He didn’t know. He’d just… He’d just been so angry.

“Jaylad, are you okay?” Bruce’s hands were raised in surrender, not touching, not defending.

Jason looked from Bruce’s worried face, to his hands still holding on. He gasped and let go, took a step back. No- the pits, he hadn’t even noticed they’d creeped back in. He’d lost time. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here. Had he done more than pull at Bruce? He desperately searched Bruce’s concerned face for more signs of violence.

He’s not actually worried, he’s manipulating you, the voices whispered at him. He slammed them down, but it was hard. He felt drained. He couldn’t be there, he couldn’t trust himself. He stumbled backwards, avoiding Bruce’s hands. Turning he saw his bike; at least that was one question answered, he thought hysterically.

Bruce didn’t stop him when he fled. Why would he? Disappointment, always a disappointment.

Next

Masterlist for subscription

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections #Danny and Jason both have a habit of running away from their problems #Let Jason hug you Danny #You will feel better #he will feel better #everyone will be happy #angst #sorry not sorry

[zappedbyzabka]

So I just read a fic about this but I have a different idea

Sid cuts Johnny off after Laura’s death and Johnny, not wanting to be a ‘freeloader’ and asking his friends for help, turns to the streets and doesn’t tell anyone about it

Sid lies to all his friends and tells them he ran away to New York and it’s not till a couple of months later that Dutch finds Johnny on the streets and take him home

Johnny really doesn’t want to prove Sid right and keeps running away so Dutch decides to basically pay him thousand of dollars to stay and fucks him every chance he gets, after all, Johnny can’t up and leave if he’s in the middle of having his back blown out by his sugar daddy

👀👀👀👀 yesss

(My instant thought was that Dutch started working for Silver’s, who was another client of Johnny’s, and that’s why he has money to give. Timeline is a little ambiguous.)

Johnny tried to hide, making sure no one who knew him ever saw him, comforting himself with the thought that he’d be too unrecognizable, covered in dirt and malnourished, selling his body to every man that offered him a buck or ten, his throat raw and hole aching by the end of every day. He kind of…enjoys that part though; he likes that all these men, sometimes married, go out and find him, want him, tell him they’d leave their wives for them, put a ring on him, and give him everything he needed—of course Johnny never took them up on the offer, but it was fun to play along sometimes. He hated thinking about the women at home waiting for their husbands, but he needed money.

Turns out that his past training comes in handy for a job like that. He was still flexible, unable to get as easily into a split as he could before, but still very flexible, able to get his pressed to either side of him on a dingy motel mattress no problem. He also had a habit of sneaking some extra cash out of their wallets; who cares? Most of them are a waste of oxygen and don't deserve the money anyway.

Then Mr. Silver came along. Johnny must admit, he was a little frightened of the man at first; he clearly had power and money. He came in a limo, smoke seeping from the window as it was lowered. Rich men were the roughest and most sadistic. Or the opposite, and liked to be degraded by someone "lesser" than them.

He walked up to the door, putting a hand on the car and leaning down, glad he smoked enough in high school to not be coughing up a long; that’d lose him a client…usually. He waited for Silver to speak first. One thing he learned is that these men like it when you let them lead, it makes them feel like you weren’t always gonna try and charge them 30 bucks for a 1 minute make-out session and another 50 for sweet talk.

But he seemed nice, and he was handsome. Johnny has always been a sucker for danger. He greeted Johnny easily, offering him $100 up front to get in the car and ordering his driver to step out and open the door for Johnny. It felt nice, it had been a long time since he was treated with any semblance of respect.

Johnny felt eager to get in the vehicle, scooting close to Silver and putting a hand on his thigh, looking up at him through golden lashes. He’s been told his eyes make him look weak, innocent; guys like that.

Silver didn’t fuck him in the limo, but Johnny left his mansion with a limp and the corner of his lips red.

Silver told him he’d take him out, gave him modest clothes, and took him to McDonald’s. He bought him whatever he wanted, like it was a reward or comfort added to the filthy money. But Johnny didn’t care; he was hungry and lonely, and Silver thankfullly didn’t say anything when he started crying over his food. The last time he'd went to McDonald’s was with Tommy. He remembered every detail: Tommy ordered a cheeseburger and a large coke, and he was wearing one of those striped shirts he liked so much—pastel white, pink, and blue. He remembers the way the fluorescent light shined on Tommy’s thinning hair. He remembered thinking Tommy’s smile was his favorite. Tommy's voice made him feel twelve years old with his very first friends again. He was so tired that day, and Johnny couldn’t figure out why, but he still joked. Now he’s in a hospital, probably thinking Johnny abandoned him. The tables were different; everything was.

Silver offered Johnny a bed for the night and breakfast in the morning, and Johnny said no. He slept at Motel 6, holding the extra pillow in his arms the entire night.

In his dreams, he and the cobras get that apartment they promised to rent together, and they’re happy. The shouting is of joy, and the sounds of footsteps aren’t so scary anymore. All his friends are shielding him again.

Dutch had loved Johnny since high school and never stopped. He had a lot of competitors back then—italian slips of paper hoping to shove their stupid big dicks into Johnny and making Dutch want to punch their lights out—but the main ones were the other cobras. He’s still sure to this day that they felt the same way about their leader as he did. There was a reason they were so loyal: Tommy looked at him like the sun shone out his ass, and Bobby was so lenient with him even when he chided others. but all of them got it, all of them understood.

He’s told Johnny everything because he always pictured him in his future— gold gray hair and summer days. Sitting at their dining table, it would be small, so Johnny wasn’t reminded of the dining table he was always lectured and degraded at. The cloth Dutch’s grandma made on top. He can picture how the fabric would look under his and Johnny's held hands, he can picture the bands on their fingers.

He was in jail when Johnny "moved to New York". And It was hell not knowing what happened. Before that, Johnny had been visiting him, not super often but when he was able, but he’d frequently send him letters, long letters in Johnny’s surprisingly neat handwriting, all about what he’d been doing that week, whether he had gone to a concert or had a fight with Sid, he’d always tell Dutch. Sometimes they even smelled like the soap Johnny used, which made Dutch hope Johnny slept with them under his pillow before sending them. The other inmates teased him relentlessly about his "girlfriend", some even having the audacity to snatch one of the letters out of Dutch’s hands and read it; that dude got a concussion. That doesn’t even compare to when Johnny first visited him in jail. Johnny wasn't really dressed up, just had a hoodie and some jeans on, but that didn’t stop them from staring at him; their wants sickeningly clear. Then Johnny would press the tip of his shoes against his under the table and tell him he couldn’t wait to have him back, and suddenly Dutch wasn’t thinking about anyone else.

Dutch didn’t want to be away anymore. He didn't want to keep landing in jail and disappointing the cobras—the only ones he gave a shit about. And he didn’t want to keep leaving Johnny alone. Why did he always come back beaten and skinnier than before? Where were the others?

He’d been panicking when Johnny stopped showing up. He thought he’d for sure messed things up or that something terrible had happened because he wasn’t there to stop it, and he couldn’t stop picturing Johnny getting jumped somewhere and calling out for him. Would he call out for him? Does he know Dutch would help him?

After a few weeks, he called Jimmy to ask if Johnny was alright, he didn’t expect him to say Johnny ran off to New York. He didn’t believe it either

He stayed on his very best behavior, even letting himself get beat up, just so he could get out as quickly as possible and figure out what was really going on. It took too long, but he made it out, got a job from this nice fella with a ponytail, and started looking.

Apparentally, the other cobras had been suspicious too but were so busy with everything they hadn’t been able to look. Bobby had even convinced himself that maybe Johnny did run away; Dutch told him he was just being selfish and lying to himself so he didn’t have to face his own worries. Bobby didn’t deny it.

Sid was no help at all, insisting with a smile that Johnny left and sticking to it. Dutch got thrown out when he didn't give in to the bullshit.

When Dutch found Johnny again, it had been after a long day of trying to find clues, and he felt like one of those brooding detectives in those crime shows Johnny and Bobby loved so much. It’s so tiring to search and come up with nothing; it’s so hope-draining. He needed a drink, and on the way to the bar, he spotted that familiar face. Johnny looked different—somehow even skinnier than the last time Dutch saw him. Dutch couldn’t get over there fast enough. He parked his car and ran over there.

"johnny!"

Johnny had turned to him, eyes wide. "Oh my god. What are you doing here? I—You got out?"

Is he disappointed? Are those other makeup-covered faces his new friends?

"I told you I’d get out this time. I even got a good job! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Johnny. Why is your stepdad telling everyone you moved? What happened?"

Johnny looked down, shoulders slouched. "We got into another fight after…" he swallowed, "after mom died, and he kicked me out."

Dutch felt his stomach tighten. He wishes he could have been there. "Where are you staying?"

Johnny sniffled, rubbing his eyelid and smearing up his mascara. "Different places."

Dutch knows what that means: "I’m homeless."

He knows from personal experience.

"Will you come to my place then? I’ve got weed and Monoply waiting for us."

Johnny picked at his nails. "You aren’t mad at me?"

Dutch tilted his head, brows creased. "Why the hell would I be mad at you?"

"Because I disappeared. I didn’t call. I mean, I don’t get paid a lot of quarters, just cash."

Dutch pauses for a moment, looking at their surroundings and the other people near them, who are also underdressed like Johnny and tired looking. He looks at the marks on Johnny's thighs and the rest of him. It clicks. He won’t say anything, not yet.

"When was the last time I got pissed at you, John? Sure. I get irritated a lot, but rarely with you."

Johnny nods; he can’t deny that. He doesn’t want to. Dutch grabs his hand carefully. "Will you come over like old times?"

"Yeah, okay."

It was the best night either of them had had in months. They didn’t talk about the time missed or the difference in them that it brought yet; they gave themselves over and lived in the past for the night.

Dutch didn’t want him to live. Never wanted him to go back to "work" again. Johnny didn’t either, he was honest about that, but he kept repeating that he refused to be a freeloader and refused to use Dutch like that. Dutch can’t believe Johnny can’t see how he’s helped him change for the better and how this love that’s been raging in him for years is the biggest reason he has money now.

He practically begged him to stay; there’s space for him on the couch, there’s space for him on Dutch’s bed—a spot for him everywhere Dutch goes.

He told Johnny to at least stay while he looked for a better job, that he really didn’t have to pay. Johnny told him he’d have to think about it and went to take a shower.

In that time, Dutch mulled over the idea he had in his head the second Johnny brought up being a freeloader: he could pay Dutch by dating him.

He felt creepy, he’d rather Johnny not pay him anything—feel right at home. But he’s been doing it with all those countless other guys, and Dutch would just…make the payments few and far between—no matter how badly he wants it more.

Dutch focused on the dripping ends of Johnny’s hair as he brought up his idea.

"I didn’t know you liked me like that." I love you. "But I think it’s a good deal."

He cupped Dutch’s face in his hands, looking over his features. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Dutch pulled him in instead of answering, kissing him until he couldn’t anymore. "Stay."

Johnny stayed. Now he’s bouncing in Dutch’s lap, mewling shamelessly as Dutch’s cock hits his sweet spot over and over again, arching when Dutch grabs a handful of his ample ass, his other hand groping at Johnny’s pec.

"Fuck. Always loved your cute little tits, babe. Used to get so hard when you’d walk around without a shirt." Johnny whines, hole clenching like a vice around Dutch. "God, swear I had blue balls every day back then—fuck. I used to imagine how tight your ass would be too, and it’s so fucking tight—can’t get enough. You got me addicted, sweetheart. Even before I had it."

Johnny stares down at him. "So—ah!—so why didn’t you do something about it, huh? Coulda' wrestled me to the ground and pounded me, I would have loved it."

He’s suddenly thrown on his back, his wrists pinned firmly to the mattress. His hole spasms when Dutch brutally plunges right back in, giving Johnny no time to adjust as he starts up his hard, fast pace once more. No mercy. Johnny’s eyes roll back.

"Quite bein’ a bitch."

He tests Dutch’s grip; no budge.

He really can’t stop the pleased noise that comes from him.

Dutch grins, sweat glistening on his face. "Yeah. That’s right. You can’t get away from me, Lawrence."

You’re all mine now, he wants to say, but there’s a 50/50 chance that Johnny will like it or punch him right in the mouth. Dutch has always wanted him.

Johnny crosses his ankles behind Dutch’s back, relaxing against the bed with a glazed look in his eyes that he only got when Dutch did something about that attitude. "You’ve always been so strong."

"And you’ve always been so fucking hot, John. Like a damn dream."

"You dream about me?"

I have for years. I dream of being allowed to love you. "Yeah, I do. Dream about your sweet ass."

Dutch lets go of his wrists, wrapping his strong arms around Johnny’s waist and holding him as he ruts faster.

"I‘ve dreamed of you too. Heard you fucked good and couldn’t stop thinking about it." He throws an arm around Dutch’s shoulders and runs his fingers through that thick hair, kissing his cheek. Dutch has always had chubby cheeks. Reminds Johnny of a squirrel—adorable.

He can’t know about Silver; Johnny can’t lose Dutch again, not like all the others.

Moodboard

#Table table table #dutch x johnny #side silverlaw #The cobras may or may not #like Johnny like Dutch thinks they do. I say they do but I left it open #tw cheating #tw sex work #tw weighloss #tw bruises #dutch the karate kid #johnny lawrence #terry silver

[schizoidnightmares]

The Gorge, I: Heaven Sails

A.I. placeholder artwork generated using NightCafe Stable Diffusion XL v1.0 — CC0 1.0

121st of First, 1100 A.W. — Tomorrow is the day I say farewell to the sanctuary I have only ever known. If my mother were still alive, I don’t think she would approve of where her son’s education has led him to. Had I known, I wouldn’t have done so well in my studies. My father, however, might have approved. He would probably see it as the closest I will ever get to being in the Guard. It wasn’t for him to decide my destiny. No matter his service to the Polity, it is for the Council to determine the fate of us all and up to the citizen to see to it that fortune is good. I always wondered what my life would have been outside the Scholars. In a cruel twist of irony, I am about to find out. Be careful what you wish for…

It could be a long voyage before we find land — if we find anything at all. We might end up right where we started. You would think it would be better to try to cross over the desert, north of the mountains, than the ocean first. At least you have land beneath you. Well, land that isn’t underwater, at least… The Council is convinced, however, that it is the ocean where, somewhere beyond, fertile land may be found.

This will be the first expedition by air. There have been many by sea and, especially, by foot. All have failed to find any fruit. For more than ten thousand years, Man has been confined to this land. We have conquered the valley and the lower peninsula… The mountains are too rugged to settle… Beyond the mountains… A wasteland where you can find yourself surrounded by sand all the way to the horizon in all directions… The farthest any expedition party made it out there was 19 days before they had to return. And only a few out of dozens returned to tell the tale. If the heat and exhaustion don’t kill you, the sandstorms will. The strongest of our tames can’t handle the desert either. The Council has decreed that no more expeditions are to be made there. Probably for the best, considering most don’t even make it past the mountains.

The world is curved, maybe round, this much we know. Expedition parties that have traversed far enough into the desert or the ocean drop below the horizon. Nobody has fallen off an edge yet.

I should feel lucky it isn’t a voyage by sea. They are by far the roughest — in many different ways. First, you have the sea itself… Her motion can make you very sick. Then it’s a matter of duration. Sea voyages are the longest — with the surviving record being 83 days. For that voyage, it was a miracle they returned at all. Their ship was a total mess, and their crew — utterly decimated.

I am told flying by air is the safest, despite being the newest form of transportation and never having flown far beyond our land. The first prototypes of airsails were deadly disastrous, often killing their own inventors. Over time, they became safer than even walking or riding a tame. Their expense is what limits their use, particularly the procurement of lifting gas, an explosively dangerous process. For now, airsails are just a scientific curiosity. And by tomorrow, a use for faraway exploration… Hopefully, not for the last time.

The HSS Heaven Sails will be staffed by a crew of 60, including myself, the sole historian. The others won’t think highly of having a member of the Scholars on board. They probably won’t think I’m worth the weight and space. I can’t completely disagree with them. The most use I’ll be for them is helping with sanitation. I have no skill with ropes, and they wouldn’t even entertain letting someone like me take one of the wheels. Certainly, I will be there to document their glory… Or doom… But that won’t much matter to them if we can’t make it home.

If we do somehow find land, some crew members will have to stay behind. Only essential personnel and I may first return. I imagine many possibilities for mutiny. If such were to occur, I highly doubt the mutineers would think twice about throwing me overboard. At least if I am thrown overboard from an airsail, I will probably die on impact with the sea. They say it’d be like falling on stone — a merciful death compared to a seaman’s.

There are many tales of doomed expeditions in fiction… Often full of cannibalism and sodomy… Almost always as sea voyages… No writer has imagined an air voyage yet. Perhaps we will become the defining legend. Hopefully, a more… Optimistic story…

The Council was very open about why they selected me as the historian to document this expedition. They want a young, fresh mind. Aside from a few distant relatives, not having any living family was also a factor in their decision. I have never been married, or in love, for that matter. The life in the Scholars is… Scarce of women. So scarce that most members eventually get their marriages arranged by the Council.

Women and children are not allowed on the sea or on long expeditions on foot or by tame. The Council forbids it. Children are a burden, requiring care and constant vigilance. The Council sees it as senseless to risk potential bearers of children. If a woman becomes too old to bear a child, she’s seen as a burden anyway, unable to pull her own weight. The same rules apply to airsails. The skies and the seas are the sole domains of men.

Maybe, if some of the adventure stories are true, there will be beautiful women waiting for us on the other side of the ocean. I can’t really imagine it. Man, for all we know, has always been confined to our land. Even if more people are out there, I don’t think they would be pleased to see us. They would probably regard us as invaders rather than explorers.

Thank you for reading

This story is the opening scene of “The Gorge,” the third short story in Schizoid Nightmares Anthology I. The second short story is available here (its last scene is available here). The next scene is available here.

#anthology #short story #scene #adventure #horror

[blevinsjustice60]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on k beauty supply can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#k b

[kuhnacevedo]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though https://mejorescremasparalacara.com/muestras-gratis/ depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#muestras gratis cremas

[sheppardmcleod]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. học nghề , while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#học nghề

[bennettshepard8]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. find more can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#zasto je dobro piti maslinovo ulje

[xubroussard95]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though 종로왁싱 depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#은평구왁싱

[robles85torres]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added curso sobrancelhas perfeitas and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#curso sobrancelhas perfeitas

[stubbychaos]

Ori Kebiin and Saviin’ika

Chapter 8 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz takes you to the covert after your long day, despite you not being accepted by everyone in the tribe yet. Though you are content to finally be away from a toxic environment, Paz wants his vengeance towards those who have hurt you.

Rating: M

Word Count: 13,000 (I kinda got carried away)

Warnings: Brief mentions of psychological abuse and manipulation, as well as the aftermath of the attempted sexual assault from last chapter. Again, there’s mentions of blood, but not nearly as graphic as the last chapter!

Translations will all be at the end since there’s so many this chapter. I separated the actual dialogue from the typical nicknames and such. The title, however, translates to “Big Blue and Little Violet” :)

You have no idea how you manage the strength to walk on your feet after the day you’ve had, but you think Paz’s hand firmly pressed to the small of your back gives you the motivation to be stronger.

Though the dread still lingers like a dark rain cloud over your frantic heart as Paz leads you to your home to grab a change of clothes, you’re certain that the Mandalorian would not let anything happen to you should your father be awake. His thumb moves in firm little circles against the thick material of his cape that’s shielding your body from any wandering eyes and even though you can’t get the memory of slaying the Trandoshan out of your mind, you feel slightly better now that your warrior had cleaned as much of the blood away from your skin as he possibly could.

Out of sight, but never out of mind, you resentfully realize as you slowly approach the worn down hut you’ve lived in for your entire life and find the thought of living anywhere else strange, but certainly not disheartening in the slightest. Paz gently urges you behind him as he leads you inside the building, his leather-clad fingers firmly wrapped around your wrist and you can’t help but to smile weakly at his diligence and insistence on keeping you safe from anymore danger.

Much to your relief, you hear your father’s snores from the other room, most likely blacked out on alcohol or his drug of choice and you hastily lead Paz into your tiny room, only letting go of his hand so you can sift through the wooden crate where you keep what little clothes and garments you own.

“Cyare,” Paz whispers the nickname, perhaps remembering that your abuser sleeps in the room down the hall; he makes sure to keep his voice down as he gathers some of your toiletries and carefully situates them in a small canvas bag, “Where we are going, it is deep underground--it is much colder--do you have anything warmer to wear?”

You blink and manage to find a large cable knit sweater that you haven’t worn in such a long time, along with a thicker pair of leggings and some clean undergarments; you freeze when the Mandalorian speaks again.

“And something to sleep in?”

Heat floods your cheeks and earlobes and you nervously move to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, growing even more embarrassed when you realize the strands are matted to your neck with blood, “Am I staying the night there?”

You find a thin-sleeved, satin night gown that falls a few inches above your knees and you slowly rise to turn and face Paz, noticing the tension in his shoulders as he stares at you through the safety of his visor. You’ve never once questioned his loyalty to the creed by asking what he looks like underneath the helmet, but you suddenly find yourself jealous that he is able to conceal his features upon feeling nervous or shy. He reaches out to gently stroke your jaw, helmet tilting to the side as you hold your clean clothes tightly to your chest; he is silent as he collects the fabric from your tight hold and places it in the canvas bag.

“You would not be turned away after the day you’ve had,” He reassures you, cupping his hand to the side of your neck, “I am hoping they will let you stay permanently once they meet you.”

Your heart swells and you nod a little, your heart pumping furiously in your chest at the thought of spending the night with him again, let alone the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” You fiddle nervously with your large sweater as he continues to stare at you, “I… I will change now.”

“Then I won’t look,” He hums, sounding slightly amused as he turns his back to you, “Unless you wish for me to see you, little nurse?”

An intense heat spreads throughout your face as you let his cape fall from your shoulders and you begin to remove your boots. You remember the way the Trandoshan’s grimy hands had found the hem of your dress and you drop your head in shame as you peel away your undergarments and replace them with fresh ones. You feel sick and ashamed that it had nearly gotten to the point where he had taken advantage of you and you want to tell Paz exactly what had happened, but the feeling of your attacker’s hands on your torso leaves you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You’re embarrassed.

“I fear you would not like what you would see.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet moves in a jolting gesture, though he makes sure not to completely turn his head towards you and your heart thrums frantically when you realize it must be out of respect for your own wishes. You’re hasty to cover your chest with a clean bralette and you feel as though your cheeks are on fire when you replace your shorts with fresh undergarments and thick leggings, all while keeping your eyes on the back of his helmet.

“You are beautiful, cyare,” Paz softly reminds you, his baritone as low and quiet as his modulator will allow him, “I don’t like seeing you bruised and hurt, but it does not take away from your beauty. I do not think I could go through all of your pain without any armor; it must be difficult to bare your scars for all to see.”

You think it to be the most heartfelt compliment he could give you--informing you that he believes your strength and endurance to be up to his standards--and you smile warmly at the back of his helmet.

“Okay,” You eventually murmur as you tug the large sweater over your head, the cozy fabric fitting you similarly to a short, loose dress, “I’m ready.”

The Mandalorian turns to face you just as you’re grabbing his cape that you had neatly placed on the foot of your bed; his helmet tilts to the side as he watches you hug the material close to your chest. Thinking he doesn’t need the warm fabric yet, you hold onto it tightly as you follow him out your room, tensing a little when you’re met with utter silence, rather than your father’s typical loud snores. Paz must notice it too, because you watch as his hand immediately moves to the blaster sheathed against his hip; your heart pounds wildly in your chest as the two of you make it up the two stairs leading out of the hut.

Before you even realize what’s going on, Paz immediately whips around and draws a blaster within a fraction of a second, carefully pushing you behind him; you’re confused, until you hear a familiar voice that you’re certain will forever haunt you, even if you never see him again.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” You tilt your head to the side so you can see your father staggering towards you and Paz, “You decide to fucking not show up to one of your shifts and thought I would be okay with it? Then you bring him here? After everything I told you? Are you really that fucking stupid or do I need to--?”

You snap before the Mandalorian does.

For the third time in the last twenty-four hours--you absolutely snap.

“I have had one of the longest, roughest days of my life, so don’t you dare make me feel bad for not showing up to work or bringing him here!” You step to the side and put yourself in front of Paz, though he still keeps his blaster pointed on the drunk man who poses no real threat to the warrior, “I have been working every day for you for the last decade and never once have you ever thanked me for the time I put in--for all that I have done for you and working for free! You never once thanked me for all the tears and blood I have shed for you at the expense of your own hands and I am exhausted.”

Your father--Maker, does he look stunned by your outburst--and you’re certain that if Paz wasn’t there, he would have struck you the moment you raised your voice, but his eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he regards you. You think of the Trandoshan and the bounty hunter and how both of them had caused you such rage, fear, and desperation and you suddenly find it easier to argue with your only living blood.

You don’t even notice the way Paz tenses behind you when your father staggers forward, nearly tripping over his own feet and you suddenly feel embarrassed for the kind of torment you have let this pathetic man inflict upon you. You’re shaking with the trauma from such a horrific day as you step a little closer to him, speaking through clenched teeth at the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember.

After killing the Trandoshan, you think you’re not fazed by anything, let alone your father’s clumsy anger.

“You have put me through so much pain and so much agony--so much torture--Maker, do you have a heart at all? Do you even realize what you’ve done to me? How much you’ve scarred my body and my mind?!” You force yourself not to cry, thinking he doesn’t deserve a single tear from you when he’s stolen so many in your life, “I am supposed to be your daughter, not your slave, and I won’t let you treat me as such anymore!”

Your chest is heaving wildly as he simply stares at you in shock, probably not even aware you were capable of storing such hatred and fury in your tender heart.

"I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you," You seethe, speaking through clenched teeth as you watch the way your words sober him, his back straightening a little "I hope you feel a fraction of the same loneliness and pain you have made me feel after I leave this awful place; I hope it haunts you everyday until you finally die."

Your father’s eyes widen and you’re certain he is shocked at the courage you have somehow obtained within a single day, though it still does not stop him from continuing to berate you

“And what would you do when he grows tired of you?” He sneers, though you simply shake your head, remembering how your warrior had declared his love for you and you force yourself to remember the devotion in his deep baritone, “You think those monsters would actually take you in as one of their own? You think this savage could genuinely love someone like you? Someone so weak and useless? They’ll use you and simply throw you away, just like anyone else would.”

You hear Paz snarl behind you, no doubt shaking with rage and a desire for wrath against your father, but you offer your last living relative a weak smile and nod a little, thinking of everything your warrior has done for you in the last few months and the happiness he’s given you. Perhaps you’re not as naive as you once thought--now so used to the horrors of such a cruel planet--and you’re certain that if this huge warrior insists his love for you, he must not be lying.

“I am not weak nor useless and I now know that,” You insist fiercely, and even though your voice trembles, you feel the words deep down in your bones--in your soul--and you step closer to the man whose unfocused gaze is currently switching between you and Paz frantically, “I am far stronger than you have ever led me to believe and I will not let you tear down me, nor the only man who has ever built me up. Even if I am not accepted, I will find a way to make a life for myself because anywhere is better than this hell.”

His angry expression cracks as soon as he realizes he no longer has any control over your inhibitions or choices and you know what’s about to happen--the manipulative words he’s about to spew.

“Y-You can’t leave me!” He doesn’t sound angry, but more so frantic at the thought of no longer having control over you, and he pleadingly holds out his careless hands, “You are my only family I have left.”

Though you feel a twinge of pain in your heart at how distraught he suddenly sounds, you turn your head to peer at Paz over your shoulder, who now has his blaster lowered. His helmet tilts to the side a little when he sees the conflict etched on your features and you think he must be incredulous that you even have to think about this--choosing between him or your father--but he simply gives you a curt nod and you turn back to your father.

“You said it yourself--” You whisper, backing away from his stumbling form before he can reach you, “You have no daughter, nor do I have a father.”

As soon as you see the look of despair melt into something more intense, something you’re so acclimated with--that anger, that intense fury--you immediately know you’ve made the right choice. Feeling flustered and slightly overwhelmed, you hastily turn around and storm past the usually talkative Mandalorian that has grown deathly silent and still as his Beskar gaze follows your small form that’s still clutching his cape close to your chest.

“Don’t forget that promise, you useless bitch! I’ll make you both fucking suffer,” He spits, instantly making you freeze and though dread crawls up your spine, you slowly turn to find Paz charging towards the much smaller, more feeble man with great furiosity that you’ve never seen from him, “Fucking Manda--”

You watch with wide eyes as your warrior immediately wraps his fingers around your newly estranged father’s neck and you are quick to make your way towards the two men when Paz effortlessly shoves him up against the outside of the hut with enough force to crack the outside of the little building. Your father claws desperately at the hand that has him pinned to the building, his feet an inch or two off the ground and you freeze when you hear the anger and pain in Paz’s modulated voice.

“You are lucky the little nurse has a tender heart and doesn’t wish for me to end your sorry existence, because I would have gladly had your lifeless body at her feet the moment I first saw you mistreat her,” Paz easily inches him higher off the ground, not seeming all too worried about his comfort as he squeezes his hand tighter around the struggling man’s esophagus, “You have caused her enough pain to last a lifetime and I will not watch you hurt her anymore with your words or hands.”

Your father’s mouth is wide open as he gasps and flops wildly like a fish on land when Paz finally drops him and you can tell it’s taking everything out of him to not cause the older man further damage as he wheezes violently at the warrior’s feet. You think you should feel sorry for your father, but instead you feel embarrassed that you have let someone so pathetic and greedy push you around for such a long time.

“He’s going to get tired of you and leave, you ungrateful bitch!” The older man speaks through loud gasps for air, choking and heaving on his own spit, “Everyone always does, you know you’re nothing--”

You should stop Paz--you know you should stop him as he lifts his boot, only to send a mighty kick to your father’s ribs and you hear a loud crack that you are all too familiar with, though you don’t cringe or turn away from it.

You’re far too acquainted with the sound to be disgusted by it and you think it to be painfully ironic that he is now in a position that you’ve been in so many times because of him.

“Useless, huh? Have fun tending your own wounds without her help,” Paz scoffs, listening to the injured man wheeze frantically, biting back whimpers as he clutches his side, “You ever try anything with her or even think about coming for me, I’ll cut your hands off and let someone else in tribe deal with you, hu’tuun. They would not show you the same mercy that I have and I would not mind seeing what kind of pain they would show you.”

You watch with wide eyes as he slowly turns around, tight fists instantly unfurling as he sees your shocked expression, though he is quick to carefully grab your elbow and lead you away from the man who is still gasping for deep breaths of air. The bright glimmer of moonlight kissing his visor as he turns to peer down at you every now and then has you growing curious and slightly worried at the sharp, jittery motions.

“Paz, are you--?”

“I am sorry you had to see me like that,” He makes haste to apologize and you shake your head a little as he leads you further away from your broken home, “I do not want you to think of me as cruel, but the way he speaks to you and treats you… I wanted to kill him, cyare.”

“After today, I don’t think I could ever believe you to be cruel,” You whisper with a light shudder, feeling the way his fingertips immediately slide down the inside of your forearm before they’re weaving through the valleys of your fingers in a firm hold; you think of the Trandoshan and bounty hunter and shake your head again, “I… I have seen what cruel men are capable of and I would never think you to be like them.”

“When we get to the covert, will you tell me what happened to you today--what he did to you?” Paz sounds so restrained and full of anger and sadness as he thinks of someone he’s considered to be a brother hunting you down and hurting you so horrifically, “If it is too hard to speak of it, I won’t push you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale deeply as he takes you further outside the village, “I do not know if I have the strength to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” Paz nods sharply, even though you can tell that this is all killing him slowly and he so desperately wants to know what the hell happened, “Okay, cyare.”

You smile softly at him being so understanding of the delicate situation and tiredly press your cheek against his bicep as he leads you to the people that are supposedly excited for your arrival. You think Paz must be exaggerating about his tribe’s eagerness to meet you and there’s a sick feeling growing in your stomach as you think of their bounty hunter and how he was most likely one of the Mandalorians who didn’t want you at the covert.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a few minutes of silence as you both slowly trudge through the village, though you think he only walks slow for you and your injuries, “That couldn’t have been an easy thing for you to stand up to him like that.”

“I… I don’t really know how to feel,” You whisper, your fingers curling tightly around his as you try to gather your thoughts into one cohesive statement to sum up your feelings, “I am sad, but my chest feels lighter. I have never talked back to him like that, but I do not regret what I said.”

“That takes a lot of courage,” Paz consoles with a deep hum, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and as he tilts his helmet a little lower and to the side, you like to picture him smiling down at you--whatever his smile may look like, though you’re certain it must be a kind, warm one, “It takes strength to stand up to someone that has hurt and manipulated you that badly, cyare, and you should feel only pride for acting so bravely.”

You smile and nod a little, knowing that someday you will truly believe his words, but for now you simply remain silent and focus on the firm hold he has on your hand. You hesitate and tense up when he moves to lead you down a dark alleyway that seems to go on for a mile; it’s so dark that you can’t even see where it ends and you move to take a step backwards as you think of the Trandoshan.

“It’s okay,” Paz reassures you, seeming to notice and understand your tension, “It’s… It’s been a long day, I get it, but I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve got me, cyare--always.”

You tug your hand out of his and squeeze the crook of his elbow as he leads you into the darkness of the alleyway. Despite not being able to make out anything, you feel how unwavering and sure the warrior is as he easily strides down the alleyway and it’s not until he scoops a thick curtain to the side that he turns on the little flashlight attached to the side of his helmet. You’re surprised to find a small set of stairs that leads down into a dark tunnel and you let him guide the way, trusting him enough to know he’s taking you somewhere safe.

“Careful,” Paz says softly as you slowly make your way down the winding staircase that takes the two of you further underground, “I know how clumsy you can be--or what was it you said when I took you to the hot springs the first time? The only thing graceful about you are your hands?”

You huff and try to shrug off the flirty remark, shaking your head as you carefully trail behind him, "You are not as smooth as you think, Paz."

He turns his helmet to gaze at you, nearly blinding you with the flashlight, all while continuing to descend the staircase and you hear him chuckle, "You’re lucky I am wearing my gloves, I know how hot your ears and cheeks get when you get all shy around me, little nurse.”

“I am sunburned,” You inform him with a scoff as he turns to face forward upon meeting the bottom of the staircase; you unfurl his cape to wrap it around your shoulders as it begins to grow colder, “I think most of my skin is pretty warm right now.”

He hums and you think he’s tense as you wrap both hands around his bicep as you two venture further into the underground tunnels; you remember the heavy weight of the Trandoshan’s body draped over your weak one as the heat from harsh sun rays beat down on you for hours on end. He doesn’t know anything that’s happened to you in the last day and you’re not sure if you should tell him, somewhat fearing for the bounty hunter’s life at the thought of Paz’s anger upon finding out you had been forced to take a life.

That the Trandoshan had touched you--that he’d nearly taken off your dress.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging onto Paz’s bicep, forcing yourself to remember that you hadn’t been violated in such an intense way and that you were currently safe with your Mandalorian.

“We are almost there,” Paz reassures you, though you think it only brings you more anxiety and fear as he calmly leads you to his tribe, not seeming fazed or nervous in the slightest, “You will be loved by them as a little sister, please do not worry. I will take care of the bounty hunter.”

You simply nod as you let him guide you through what feels like endless tunnels and turns and you wonder how he could possibly know his way through such an intense maze of dark stone. You think of all the times he’s made his way through the tunnels just to see you and your heart swells as you glance up at his scuffed up helmet with admiration, thinking that he must see something in you to make such a winding journey so many times.

“Stay behind me, please,” Paz gently orders, responding quietly to your wide-eyed expression after he nudges you behind his big frame, “Just for a minute.”

He turns a corner just as an unfamiliar voice speaks up and you instantly perk up at the sound of a small, innocent voice; they sound younger than you and you’re not sure why, but that brings you great comfort immediately.

“Norac bid nusujii, ori kebiin?” A high-pitched, feminine voice has you feeling curious and despite Paz’s words, you poke your head to gaze past his bicep. Instantly, a forest green helmet with that notorious t-shaped visor whips to the side to stare at you and the smaller Mandalorian is quick to stand up from where she had been perched on a stone ledge next to the large, round entrance leading into the covert. You blink at the scuffed up teal armor that the female Mandalorian dons and you think the sapphire color of her gauntlets to be beautiful and less intimidating compared to the bounty hunter’s armor.

“Cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu Paz?”

You think she must be asking Paz a question by the incline of her tone and he immediately turns to find you gazing intensely at the guard; letting out with a crackly sigh, Paz gives her a single sharp nod, “‘Lek.”

She lets an amused hum slip past her modulator and steps a little closer, “Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh.”

Paz turns a little to place a big hand on the small of your back, kindly urging you forward and you hear the colorful Mandalorian let out with a small chuckle when you speak quietly in a shy voice, “The colors of your armor are pretty--blue is one of my favorite colors.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

You immediately understand the meaning of her playful words when Paz offers her some sort of admonishment in his deep voice, speaking in his native tongue, “Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic.”

“Sorry, sorry,” The woman chuckles a little, helmet cocking to the side as she places a leather hand on her hip, “Thank you for the compliment, though I do not think I have ever heard someone refer to a Mandalorian as being pretty; most people would spit on us the first chance they got,” 

She still sounds amused as she props her sharp Beskar staff up against the stone wall, holding out a hand for you to shake; you smile weakly at the greeting and grasp her hand lightly, noticing her firm grip right away. She stands a few inches taller than you and even though she is probably the least intimidating Mandalorian you’ve met so far, you don’t doubt her strength.

“I do not think that those who would choose to spit on you would last very long.”

“Ni guuror kaysh,” The colorful Mandalorian giggles, her head tilting to the side as she peers down at you, “Cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel?”

“Elek,” Paz huffs a little and nods, sounding proud as he quickly answers her question, “Yes, ever since the day I first saw her.”

Your cheeks burn at what they could possibly be saying about you, though you don’t wish to cause any disrespect and politely continue to firmly shake the colorful Mandalorian’s hand as she giggles a little louder at his answer.

“I am Imalia,” She finally introduces herself and you’re surprised to actually hear excitement in her smooth, modulated voice as she continues to shake your hand; you’re even more surprised that she would so willingly give you her name, “Everyone calls me Ima though; I am one of the guards that protects the entrance this late at night since we’ve been having more and more close calls with outsiders lately.”

You blink as her leather-clad palm slips from yours and you nervously wring your fingers together, not knowing what to do with your own hands, “My name is--”

“Oh, we all know who you are, vod’ika,” She interrupts with another giggle and confusion fills you when you hear Paz let out with an exasperated sigh; your heart warms when you remember that he had told you ‘vod’ika’ meant little sister,  “Our heavy-infantry warrior hasn’t shut up about you since he first saw you--always rambling on about his ‘mesh’la saviin’ika’ and how pretty your flowers are and how kind you are and how he wants riduurok with you someday. We all thought he was making you up until he brought home your flowers one day.”

“Ori Kebiin bal Saviin’ika,” She tilts her head to the side, amused by her own words and you hear Paz groan from behind you, “How cute.”

You grow even shyer at her teasing voice, “What does... that mean? R-Riduurok?”

“Oh, y’know,” Ima says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, flippantly waving a gloved hand around, “When two people agree to--”

“It means Imalia is a teenager who likes to gossip too much and is far too nosy for her own good,” Paz quickly deflects, resting a large hand over the slope of your shoulder and you think he almost sounds stressed out and worried as the colorful Mandalorian shrugs halfheartedly, “Is the armorer at the forge, Mal?” 

The way he seems so comfortable speaking with the younger warrior immediately makes you smile softly and you wonder if he’s this way with all the younger Mandalorians.

“I need to speak with her--it’s urgent.”

Imalia tilts her head to the side and you feel small underneath her intimidating gaze, despite the fact that she’s apparently younger than you; she must be inspecting you closely and you suddenly wish you had the opportunity to take a shower before leaving your house. You can still feel all the dried blood matted to your scalp and crusted into your hairline and you’re certain Ima must see it as well.

“Tion'jor an te tal?” Ima questions in a much quieter tone and you flinch severely when her hand moves to touch one of your braids, though she is quick to pull her hand away, turning sharply to gaze up at Paz instead; her voice sounds much graver and sadder when she speaks again, “Vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh? Cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?”

“It’s a long story,” He says in Basic, something you’re grateful for as the colorful Mandalorian, slowly takes her seat back on the stone ledge, grabbing her long spear once more as Paz continues, “It’s all Djarin’s fault. He came after her because of the vulptex.”

“That damn bounty hunter--no wonder why he was so tense when he came back earlier,” Ima sighs, shaking her head as though this is a common occurrence within the tribe and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, “I’m surprised he’s even alive still; I’m starting to think he has only one brain cell left.”

“Not for much longer,” Paz huffs, fingers twitching against the thick fabric of your long sweater and you let him guide you through the large entrance into another tunnel, “The runt is dead the moment I see his sorry ass.”

The teenager doesn’t seem all the fazed by Paz’s foreboding words, watching as you two venture further into the enclave, “I don’t doubt it.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to catch one last glimpse at Ima’s beautiful green helmet, “It was nice meeting you, Ima.”

“You as well, saviin’ika,” You can hear the smile in her modulated voice, warm and syrupy sweet, and your heart melts at her next words, “I look forward to seeing more of you, rather than hearing it from ori kebiin’s annoying mouth.”

Despite the long day you’ve experienced and everything that’s happened with your father, you smile tiredly at her and face forward as Paz lets out with another annoyed sigh, grumbling something so low that you can’t make it out from underneath his helmet. 

He continues straight down the dim tunnel that is barely lit and your eyes widen as he leads you through another rounded entrance that has some sort of huge insignia welded to the top; you think it almost resembles a Mandalorian helmet with horns coming out the side and you make a mental note to ask Paz about it later.

Paz hums thoughtfully as he inspects his surroundings, looking for something--or someone--in particular; you take in your surroundings curiously, detaching yourself from the distracted Mandalorian to make your way over to a little workbench that seems to have discarded scraps of metal. Not wanting to be rude by touching someone else’s belongings, you simply observe all the scuffed and rusted Beskar, though something in particular catches your attention.

You force yourself not to reach out to touch the little pendant that resembles the one welded above the entrance of the forge, though something about the faded purple horns intrigue you more than you’d like to admit

“I thought we agreed not to take in your nurse until we got our bounty hunter’s vote,” A smooth, demure voice instantly startles you and you quickly turn around to come face to face with a Mandalorian who is slowly and surely entering the armory, her gaze fixated on you in an intense manner, “It is not like you to go against my word, Paz. Do you understand that you have put the tribe at risk?”

You eye the thick furs draped along her shoulders, along with the beautiful glimmer of her golden helmet; you think the richness of the gold contrasting against the deep maroon of the rest of her armor is stunning and immediately, you think she must be the leader of the covert. Though she lacks in height, just like you, she makes up for it with a powerful aura of quiet strength and leadership and you immediately admire her. 

Though you’re terribly nervous, you’ve never wanted to make such a good first impression with someone and you shakily speak up before Paz can, his helmet jolting to the side to gaze at you with what you’re certain is surprise.

It seems as though you’ve been doing that a lot lately--surprising everyone, including yourself.

“He wanted to wait as well,” You inform her, awkwardly skittering forward when she pulls out a chair for you to sit on, seeming to understand your exhaustion after a long day, “I… I was brought here because of the circumstances of today.”

“And what were the circumstances, little one?” She questions smoothly, her voice like rich velvet through her vocoder as she grabs a small metal mug from a shelf and a teapot that must already be filled with hot water; immediately, Paz starts to speak in an angered tone, but she is quick and calm to interrupt his hasty words as she pours hot water over a bundle of herbs, “I believe I asked your nurse, warrior, not you.”

“Thank you,” You whisper your gratitude when she makes her way back to you and kindly places a steaming mug filled with something that smells simultaneously sweet and spicy, “I haven’t had a warm drink in a while.”

“I know,” She informs you and your eyes widen in fear at the thought of Paz telling everyone in the covert about your father; anger fills you just for the tiniest moment before the armorer is squashing your worries like a bug beneath her boot, “I know only of what our heavy-infantry warrior has informed us about you, though he has spoken nothing of your personal life or family. It is unfortunate that you do not wear our helmet, little nurse, for it is quite easy to read the pain and suffering in your eyes. You may be younger than I, but you have lived a lifetime already, have you not?”

Your nostrils flare as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat when you realize the wisdom this woman possesses, “I have felt enough pity for one lifetime as well, I do not wish to feel it anymore from myself or anyone else.”

She glances up at Paz, who has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you closely, before her gaze is once again fixated on you taking a tentative sip of the flavorful tea; she cocks her head to the side, as if intrigued, and you hope that you are making a decent impression, “Very well. Tell me of the circumstances that have led you here today, little one.”

So, you do.

Paz pulls up a tiny chair that creaks underneath his weight and sits off to the side as you reluctantly relay the story of you and the bounty hunter--how you had willingly taken that blaster shot to save your vulptex, how you had been forced to cauterize your wound, how many times you tried to mention Paz’s name, though the hunter refused to listen. You think it’s taking everything out of Paz to not immediately go searching for his fellow Mandalorian, but he remains seated, his visor fixed on you and his fingers curled into tight fists atop his armored thighs. 

As soon as you mention the speeder and the barren lands, you see Paz straightening up, his breath hitching in his throat as you speak of the deal with the Trandoshan and how the bounty hunter hadn’t hesitated to trade you in for a pouch of credits.

How you had begged the hunter not to hand you over because the Trandoshan only held cruel intentions towards you.

Somehow, you manage not to cry the entire time, but as soon as you speak of the vibroblade Paz had given you--how you were barely able to keep a good grip on the handle because of how bloody your hand was--tears spring to your eyes. You squeeze the hot mug between your hands firmly, trying your hardest to take comfort in the warmth it brings your cold body.

Against your better judgment, you decide to leave the Trandoshan’s intentions as far away from the story as you possibly can, not wanting to inform Paz of how close he’d been to slipping his hands underneath your dress.

You know that would be the one detail of your story that would leave him completely unhinged.

You squeeze your eyes shut just as you maneuver around the painful topic, “Throat wounds are usually the most deadly and I… I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off of me and I had to take his life. I cannot stop thinking of the noises he made when I--and he was choking on his own blood and it got all over me and I never had to--”

“Ner cyare,” Paz’s voice sounds thick with emotion as you stare down at your lap in shame, not noticing the way the armorer is still gazing intensely at you, “I didn’t know you had to... Maker, that’s where all the blood came from?”

“You did what you must to survive in such a cruel place,” The armorer seems to have better words to say than Paz and you think he must be caught in an intense war of anger towards his brother or sadness because you had lost a piece of yourself, “Though I can only imagine the turmoil one so innocent would be going through after experiencing something so traumatic. Please, continue if you can.”

You’re not sure how you manage to speak with how shaky you’ve become, but surrounded by two powerful warriors, you want to be stronger, “I-I immediately went into shock because there was so much blood--Maker, there was so much blood--and I just froze and he fell forward on top of me. I was too weak at the moment to push him off and I passed out in the sun. When I woke up hours later, my skin was burning but I was able to get the Trandoshan off of me finally.”

You find it difficult to look at either one of them, so your gaze flickers up to the little horns on the armorer’s helmet as you take another sip of tea before continuing, “I… I passed out again; I don’t know why I was so tired, but when I woke up again, it was night time and the bounty hunter had come back for me and was taking Paz’s blade from my hand. He asked me who I got the weapon from and as soon as I said Paz, I could tell he regretted everything.”

The armorer speaks after Paz lets out an infuriated growl, standing up to his most intimidating size, though the female Mandalorian feels no sort of fear as she speaks only to you, “And do you truly feel as though our bounty hunter felt sorry for what he did to you?”

You sit up a little straighter and stare right into her visor, thinking hard about your response before answering out loud, though you can tell Paz is seething and vibrating with rage.

“I think he felt sorry for hurting someone who was precious to Paz, but not that I was protecting something I considered dear to me,” You inform her in an earnest, hushed tone, making her cock her helmet to the side a little, “I think he was just a man doing his job as a bounty hunter, but he was also cruel to me. When I tried to tell him that I knew Paz, he would make me be quiet and told me that whatever I had to say did not matter.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly brush away the tears at your lashes as you continue, “He almost made me believe the stories that my parents used to tell me of Mandalorians, but I know Paz enough to know the stories aren’t true. I’ve only known Imalia--Ima--for a few minutes, but she treated me kindly and I do not wish to believe that everyone in your tribe could be so cruel, especially when you and her have shown me respect.”

“And how have I shown you respect when all I’ve done is given you the opportunity to tell me your story, little one?”

“I think that is one of the kindest ways you can treat another--to allow them to speak up for themselves without judging them,” Warmth spreads through your cheeks and ears as you take another sip of your sweet, spicy tea and you gaze shyly at the armorer, “I know my voice shakes when I am scared or angry and that I cry more than I probably should, but you and Paz and even Ima have shown me more respect than anyone else I’ve met in the last decade. Even if I was not accepted, I am grateful to see that love and kindness has lived underneath this cruel village for so long.”

The armorer stares at you in an unwavering manner and you fear the worst when she slowly turns her helmet to gaze up at Paz, who’s still staring intently at you, and she almost sounds amused as she turns to you once again, “It seems as though our heavy-infantry warrior was correct when he informed us all that it is impossible to dislike you.”

“I only wish to treat others the same way I would like to be treated,” You smile at the thought of your grouchy Mandalorian giving you such high praise about you to his family and you curl your fingers against your knees, “I apologize that this is the way I was introduced to you--all bloody and still shaken up.”

Her head tilts to the side in a curious manner, “Our tribe’s bounty hunter was careless and hurt you, yet you are the one apologizing?”

“It was my fault for--”

“Do not feel sorry or at fault for this, cyare,” Paz insists and you finally look up at him as he speaks through clenched teeth, “Where is Djarin, ner alor? I will have him begging for forgiveness at her feet the second I see him--I want him to suffer for what he did to her!”

The armorer lets out with a tired sigh and she shakes her helmet a little as you timidly finish off your tea, watching the altercation take place over the rim of your mug, “Our bounty hunter is currently asleep in his quarters, just as you two should be.”

Paz refuses to back down and you fear that he’s actually going to kill his fellow Mandalorian as his deep baritone grows louder and more infuriated, “I want to kill him, I don’t care that he is currently resting. He is a coward and--”

“Your little healer is exhausted and afraid,” The armorer reminds him firmly, standing up to her full height and you realize her true power when Paz recoils a little, “She is in a new place, surrounded by people she has never met and it has been a long day for her. Would you be so cruel and selfish to deny her relaxation after witnessing such trauma? The nurse is about to fall out of her chair, and yet you only wish to seek violence when she has already seen too much of it in her lifetime.”

“I didn’t--” Paz’s helmet jolts a little as he gazes intensely at you, though you offer him a weak, tired smile, “I am sorry, ner cyare, I was not thinking properly.”

“It’s okay,” You shake your head a little as you slowly stand, your hand traveling to the cauterized wound at your hip; and Paz is instantly at your side when you keel over a little bit in pain, “Although it would be nice to um, to maybe get all of this blood out of my hair?”

“Negotiations for the nurse’s future with the tribe will continue tomorrow,” The armorer stands tall, somehow exuding more power and grace than your blue warrior, “In the meantime, she will recover and rest for as long as she requires.”

“Th-Thank you,” Paz gently presses his hand to the small of your back as you offer your gratitude to the tribe’s matriarch, “For everything.”

She simply offers you a curt nod and watches as Paz dutifully takes you to his private quarters. 

The enclave is a lot quieter than you would have expected and you think they must have some sort of system when it comes to training and sleeping; you have so many questions, but you don’t want to sound too nosy, so you remain silent during the small journey. Your eyelids feel incredibly heavy as he quietly guides you and you pray the Mandalorian doesn’t think too differently after hearing your story--that he doesn’t see you to be any less of yourself for being forced to steal someone’s life.

He’s still tense as he wraps an arm around your waist to help you descend another staircase leading even deeper into the enclave and you hate that you are a part of the reason why he’s so angry and upset. You hate his moody silence, knowing that he’s normally so talkative with you and could probably carry a conversation with himself if it meant you had his full interest.

Tiredly, you make it your own little mission to distract him from his inner turmoil and gently grab his yellow gauntlet once the two of you make it to the bottom of the staircase. His helmet jolts to the side to gaze down at you as you hold his forearm to your stomach, your fingers barely grazing the slim barrel attached to the top of his gauntlet.

You smile up at his visor, whispering out a meek little, ‘I love you.’

Instantly, he stops walking to lean down to press his forehead against yours and warmth settles over your heart similarly to the way his cape around your cold frame brings you comfort and security.

Immediately, he relaxes his tense muscles and lets out a deep sigh, “I love you too, cyare.”

You observe your dark surroundings closely as he leads you past what seems to be several different alcoves that you assume must be the living quarters for other Mandalorians, the entrances to them covered by thick black fabric. You’re surprised when he guides you past them and around a corner where there’s a stone door straight at the end of the corridor; you wonder if he has a bigger room than everyone else because of his status or ranking within the tribe, though you think it rude to ask and simply follow him into his dimly lit quarters.

You’re surprised to find that it’s far bigger than your little hut and you take in all the new surroundings with curiosity.

You keep your hands clasped tightly together, feeling awkward as you watch the warrior calmly make his way to a huge chest on the floor at the foot of his massive bed, seeming utterly relaxed as he begins to remove his big gauntlets and black gloves. placing them inside the large chest. You almost think he’s forgotten about you until he stands up again and purposely wanders back to you, immediately intertwining his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle tug.

“You must be dying for a shower,” He sighs softly, leading you further into his private quarters and through a small alcove protected by black drapes; your cheeks burn hotter than coals when you think of how easy it would be for him to easily invade your privacy, though you know him to be a respectful man, “The water doesn’t always get the warmest, but I’m sure it will be nicer than whatever you had at your home.”

You perk up when you see the big shower and dozens of little holes in the ceiling where the water must fall from, “We had a sonic shower at the infirmary. I’ve never used a real one with actual water.”

The blue warrior stares at you for a few moments before shaking his head a little; he digs through your small canvas bag, pulling out the jars that contain your hair products, as well as your bar of soap. You watch with curiosity as he opens the glass door the shower and places your stuff on a small shelf next to his own belongings and it finally hits you that you are actually at his covert with him and not your measly little hut with a man who hates you.

Paz twists a metal knob a few times around, causing a soft whirring noise, followed by fat droplets of water to fall from the holes in the ceiling and your eyes widen a little at the sight.

“Take as long as you want,” He gently orders in a cool rasp, stroking your bruised cheek with the utmost care and immediately, you turn your head to kiss his palm, earning you a little sigh from him, “I’ll go get some food for you while you shower.”

He turns to leave you alone, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you awkwardly speak up in his native tongue, “Ori kebiin--”

Immediately, the Mandalorian freezes, his back facing you as you speak the strange words that the guard had spoken earlier, “That’s what Ima said, right? I know you told me that saviin’ika means violet and I heard her say that, but what does ori kebiin mean? Is it your title in the tribe?”

“I--It’s just--” Paz seems to hesitate for a few moments before you hear him let out with a frustrated groan, “It is what many of the younger ones in the tribe refer to me as; it means big blue. When I told you that saviin’ika only meant violet, I lied to you, cyare. Saviin means violet, but ‘ika means little.”

“Big blue and little violet?” You murmur, cheeks burning more intensely than any severe sunburn could possibly inflict on you as the warmth spreads to the tip of your ears, “That’s what she was so--”

“It’s nothing,” He huffs a little and rolls his head a little, the joints in his neck cracking from the tension that comes with a long day, "The younger ones in the tribe keep teasing me about you because they know they can get away with it."

You nod and quietly ask him one last question before he can leave, "Where is my vulptex? You said she was here, right?"

Paz chuckles a little as you frantically voice your concerns aloud, now that the two of you are safe and alone, "She is most likely in the nursery with the little ones. She has been fed and taken care of all day, cyare, please do not worry about anyone other than yourself right now. I’ll be out there if you need anything, just call if you need help."

You smile and give him one last 'thank you’ as he leaves you to wash yourself. Slowly and tiredly, you peel your clothes from your bruised and bloodied body and excitedly make your way into the shower.

A gasp nearly leaves you upon feeling the warm water gently pelt against your skin and you smile a little as you tilt your head backwards and let the water loosen the dried blood from your hair. A content sigh escapes you as you remove your metal cuffs from the tails of your braids and you place them on a little stone shelf next to yours’ and Paz's toiletries before getting to work on gently washing your mane, taking your time to make sure all the blood is removed.

You do everything in your power to not pay attention to the pink swirl of water that runs around the big drain in daunting circles. 

Instead, you focus on the scent of your comforting floral shampoo or the spicy, woodsy scent of your warrior’s toiletries as you curiously bring the bar of soap to your nose to smell it.

You're not sure how long you're under the warm spray of water, your eyelids threatening to slip shut, but eventually, you're finally clean and ridden of any proof that you've stolen a life. Reluctantly, you shut the water off and step out onto a furry mat, grabbing a towel that's neatly folded next to your canvas bag. As you dry yourself, making sure not to jostle your injured hip too much, you realize just how much better you already feel now that you're clean.

It’s only once you’ve put on your nightgown that you risk a glance at the little mirror that hangs above the sink and immediately freeze. You look exhausted, you realize as you stare at your wide-eyed expression with sadness and defeat, your eyes filled with the same kind of intense emotion that would be in a young warrior’s eyes upon coming back from war. Hastily, you turn your attention to your hair, carefully combing out all the knots with the comb that Paz had dutifully tucked into the canvas bag for you.

When you brush through your hair for what must be the hundredth time, you realize you’re only delaying the inevitable--him seeing your arms and the rest of your body so exposed in your nightgown, along with all the scars and welts displayed across parts of your arms and shoulders that he’s never seen before.

‘He is a warrior,’ You remind yourself fiercely, nervously tucking a wet lock of hair behind the curve of your ear as you muster up the courage to sweep the thick curtain to the side, ‘He is used to scars and he’s told you countless times that he doesn’t mind them.’

Your nerves are at an all time high as you spot your Mandalorian in the tiny kitchenette in his private quarters, setting a wooden bowl down onto the table and you tiredly smile as he places a small spoon next to it.

“Thank you for letting me use your shower.”

Paz turns around and freezes upon meeting your gaze with his black visor; you can feel water dripping onto the thin satin material of your dress, as well as down your neck and you blink with curiosity as he remains glued to his spot in front of the little table that you realize is next to a stone furnace. He’s holding a bowl with steam dancing along the surface and your mouth instinctively waters when you catch a whiff of all the spices and unfamiliar scents of the savory meal. Behind him, you see a small piece of bread and another bowl filled with vibrant fresh fruit and you feel your heart clench at the mere thought of eating something sweet.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me for everything,” He kindly informs you, pulling out a chair as an invitation to sit down as he sets the bowl on the table, “It is... nice to see you looking more like your normal self already.”

You smile warmly at him and take a seat as the Mandalorian begins to disarm his heavy weapons and equipment, placing them in a safe spot near his massive bed where they are readily accessible, should danger dare threaten him. You nervously fiddle with the wet ends of your clean hair as your knee bounces frantically, watching him as he begins to slowly remove his armor, starting with his pauldrons as he carefully places them in that large chest at the foot of his bed.

His helmet turns and he immediately notices your hesitation to eat the food he’s laid out for you, “You... You can help yourself, cyare. I have already eaten and I can tell you’re hungry.”

You politely murmur a quiet ‘thank you’, not noticing the way his shoulders drop a little as you finally pick up the spoon to eat, your stomach growling more intensely than a rabid beast. Tucking a leg underneath yourself, you tentatively blow on the steaming spoonful of delicious looking stew before bringing it to your mouth and before you can fully register all the different spices, your taste buds explode.

Paz nearly chuckles upon watching your eyes slowly close as you experience all the different flavors for the first time, “I’m going to shower while you eat.”

“Mhm,” You simply hum, barely aware of him shaking his head in an amused manner as you practically ignore him, focusing only on the well-seasoned stew as he makes his way to the refresher. 

You’re slightly sad when your spoon inevitably scrapes the bottom of the wooden dish, but excitement fills you when you remember the bowl of fruit that had been left for you. The berry you pick up is a deep shade of purple and covered in white streaks and you slowly let it slip between your lips, your shoulders falling when you bite into the berry, causing tart juice to explode in your mouth.

You’re not sure how long you must be savoring the fruit for, but eventually, your Mandalorian exits the refresher, completely ridden of all the padding and armor and his visor instantly seeks you out; you’re in the process of licking juice off your finger when your eyes dart upwards to find him standing only a few feet away from you. 

Immediately you freeze, eyes wide as he walks around with his scarred torso completely bared to you, his black sleep pants slung low on his hips and you find it nearly impossible to look away from the rich brown skin that he’s choosing to expose to you for the first time. The muscles of his shoulders and arms are more defined than his soft chest and stomach and you think he must carry most of his strength in those powerful arms, what with being his tribe’s heavy-infantry warrior.

You’re grateful that he’s not touching your cheeks or ears, that way he can’t truly tell how flustered you are. Instead, he dutifully retrieves an extra fur that’s folded in one of the drawers off to the side, only turning to meet your gaze once he’s done covering his mattress in the warm material.

He must take your wide-eyed expression the wrong way, because he almost sounds afraid when he quietly speaks up, “What? You do not wish to see me like this? Are you uncomfortable?”

Immediately, you abandon your fruit and stand up to approach him, “I think you are beautiful, Paz.”

He scoffs a little, but accepts a warm embrace from you as you rest your cheek against his sternum and hook your arms underneath his armpits so you can lay your hands atop his defined shoulder blades. Instantly, his arms are wrapped tightly around your own shoulders and he holds you close to his warm chest where you can feel his heart thumping against your ear like a beacon of power and strength.

“That is my line,” He murmurs, and your lips stretch into a tired smile against his soft skin, the dark curls loosely splayed along his chest are coarse as they tickle your cheek, though you don’t mind at all, “Besides, I thought you once said you would not dare to feed my ego anymore than you already have.”

You close your eyes, taking comfort in the deep rumbling of his chest and voice as you feel his heart thrum powerfully and frantically against your eardrum, “Something makes me think your ego is not as massive as I once thought it to be.”

He scoffs, but simply holds you close to him and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt such comforting skin on skin contact like this; his huge arms simultaneously acting as a heater and a shield. He hums when you let out a relieved sigh, your warm breath fanning across his sternum as he shivers a little and brings a hand up to gently rub the back of your head, not caring that your hair is still dripping wet and getting onto his own chest.

“Sweetheart,” His chest rumbles as he speaks and your eyes flicker up to meet his visor, “We are both exhausted, it is time for us to rest, I think. Besides, I would much rather hold you like this in my bed.”

You smile and nod a little, watching as he stands tall and moves to turn off all the lights in the dim room. Hesitantly, you make your way underneath the thick furs that are draped on top of the mattress and as you let your head rest on top of a soft pillow, you fear that you will simply sink right through it, as you’ve never rested on something so pliable. Once it’s pitch black in the room and you feel the weight of his warm body dipping in the mattress next to you, you turn over onto your side to face him, despite not being able to see him in the slightest.

Immediately, your mind goes into overdrive as you think of what you’re supposed to do--what he expects from you--and you nearly jump when you feel the gentle weight of his palm carefully resting on top of your sunburnt cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking the tail of your brow. You’re not sure if you should move closer to him or what you should do with your hands as he moves the tiniest bit closer to you. Thinking of the Trandoshan and how you'd been pinned underneath his lifeless body for so long, you suddenly crave to feel his heartbeat and you scoot closer to the man that feels more like a furnace.

He doesn't say a word as he moves so he's on his back and lifts a big arm above his head, patiently waiting as you find a comfortable position to rest your head. Finally, after a few awkward seconds of the two of you fumbling around in the dark, your head finds its home on his chest, your cheek pressed against a thick, raised scar and you close your eyes with a soft smile. His arm comes down from above his head to hold you closer to him, his other hand moving to continue its previous ministrations on your cheeks and lips as you rest your palm above his heart.

You’re half asleep when you feel a crooked finger press up against the underside of your jaw, guiding your head upwards slightly and you gasp when you feel something warm and plush kiss the top of your hair.

You’re utterly unfamiliar with the sensation of being kissed, but when you feel the same pressure against your forehead, followed by an unmodulated sigh and warm breath fanning across your face, you realize the warrior has broken part of his sacred code.

He took his helmet off for you.

“P-Paz, you--” Your voice trembles and you feel his lips quirk into a smile against the brow he’s currently kissing before he moves to the bridge of your nose, “Your helmet!”

“What about it, sweetheart?”

You feel at a loss for words at the sound of his unfiltered voice and he lets out with a small chuckle at your intense reaction, humming softly against your skin as he squeezes you a little tighter.

“Can you see my face?” He questions softly against the apple of your cheek, and you shiver at the sound of his smooth baritone in the raw; when you answer him with a weak little ‘no’, he continues with amusement evident in his unfiltered voice, “Then I have not brought dishonor to my tribe or you.”

“Are you sure?”

He huffs out a small chuckle against the tip of your nose and you smile at how different his laughter sounds without his helmet--much lighter and less crackly--and you cling onto his warm voice as he firmly rubs the stress away from your shoulders and cradles your jaw with his other hand. After being handled so roughly and grossly by the Trandoshan, his tender hands fill your aching heart with love and relief; your eyelids slowly slip shut when you feel him move his torso a little off the bed so he can kiss your chin.

“I am positive, sweet nurse.”

Shyly, you lift your hand from his chest and rest it on the side of his neck as he lightly nuzzles his nose into the damp hair that’s just a little above the tip of your ear, seeming to feel no shame as he inhales the scent of your shampoo and conditioner.

You shiver when he presses another kiss into your hair and you speak up as your hand slowly inches up his neck, feeling all the little scars and veins that are prominent, along with the way his Adam’s apple shifts up and down when you graze past it, “Am I allowed to touch your face?”

He hums and moves his head to kiss all the areas on your face that he previously missed--the corners of your eyes, the spot between your brows, as well as the sides of your nose--but he ultimately decides to venture to the corner of your lips, “You may do whatever you wish to me.”

Your face grows hot as he captures your earlobe between his thumb and index finger, a large grin spreading across his lips when he feels the intense warmth on the pad of his fingers, and you shyly continue your ascent up to his face. The first thing you feel is a coarse beard and you nearly jump away from him when the wiry hair tickles and scratches against your sensitive palms; it feels neatly trimmed, cropped just a few inches underneath his smooth cheekbones and you think he must take great care to not slack with his daily hygiene or grooming.

Before you can make it to his nose, the massive warrior sighs against the corner of your lips and speaks in the most wistful tone you think you’ve ever heard--

“May I kiss you properly now, cyare?”

You freeze, completely caught off guard by his words as you hesitantly lift your head from his chest, aiming your gaze in the direction where you think his eyes must be as he reluctantly drops his head back against the pillow. His fingers tense along your sore shoulder blade and you fear that he must feel that he’s done something wrong because of your hesitation, but as you manage to turn and move until your chest is pressed against his, you shyly explore his plump lips with your fingertips.

Curiosity gets the better of you at the thought of exploring his lips with yours and you lower your head and use your hands to guide your lips to his in the darkness of his room.

Immediately, you soften against him, your palms cradling his scratchy cheeks as you shyly kiss him and you're surprised at how warm and soft his lips are against yours.

You can’t help but to grin a little at the deep groan he lets out when he seems to realize that you’re actually kissing him.

Tilting your head a little to the side, you find it easier to kiss him the way you wish and you feel Paz completely relax underneath the tiny weight of your body as you fully press your lips against his, the side of your nose lightly bumping against his. You can smell the minty scent of his own shampoo mixed with the woodsiness of his body wash and you think it intoxicates you as he reaches up to cup the back of your head to keep you from straying too far from his tender lips. 

A small whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your bottom lip and you feel lighter and bereft of all thought when you reluctantly pull away from each other, feeling like a night sky without her moon and you can’t stop yourself from stealing another kiss, earning another soft noise from the surprised man. 

Your heart pounds a little faster when you feel his hand dip down to your waist to carefully hike you further up his body so he doesn’t have to lift his head as much and you smile as you bring your hands up to cup his scruffy cheeks; as your thumbs graze his cheekbones, you’re delighted to find that they are just as warm as your own. You’re practically laying on top of him, though he doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your body in the slightest as he holds you close to him.

Paz makes a small humming noise as he gently rubs a large hand up and down your back, continuing to kiss the corners of your lips and cheeks with fervor even when you pull away for air; you close your eyes in bliss, unfamiliar with the affection, but also basking in his warmth--his love.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

He whispers the unfamiliar words several times against your warm skin and you think he must be telling you the sweetest words, what with how quiet and soft he’s grown underneath you and your curiosity immediately gets the better of you.

“What does that mean?” 

“In Mando’a, it means ‘I hold you in my heart forever’,” He explains, teeth grazing your sensitive jawline before moving upwards to steal another kiss from your grinning lips, “It is our way of telling another that we love them.”

You think it sounds far more beautiful than those other simple three words but you let the warrior kiss your lips as many times as he wishes, thinking that perhaps he’s never been this intimate with another. Also because you’ve never been showered with such affection and you think receiving it from Paz is one of the most beautiful phenomenons you’ve ever experienced.

"Your lips still taste like fruit," He informs you as his lips graze your jawline before moving to your ear, "I wonder if the rest of you tastes so sweet."

The gruffness of his tone combined with the way his teeth gently nip at your lobe has you feeling as though you're going to pass out or spontaneously combust. Shyly, you tuck your head firmly underneath his chin, your sunburned cheeks feeling even hotter as the warrior's chest rumbles with a deep laugh.

“I think you only wished to have me here so you can torment me,” You whisper against his bare neck, earning another chuckle from your Mandalorian as he continues to rub your spine in a comforting manner, “I don’t think I mind this kind of torment though. I would not mind having this every night, if you and your people were so kind to allow it.”

“They will,” He murmurs, squeezing you tighter to him, “Please, cyare, rest your eyes. You have had a long day, but you are safe with me now.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and contentment as your eyelids slowly slip shut, exhaustion overtaking your body as he continues to gently press tender kisses to your cheeks and brows until you fall into a strange sleep where you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. You have nightmares of the Trandoshan’s body pinned against yours, as well as sweet dreams of spending the rest of your days underneath such tender care of your Mandalorian.

You’re in a strange limbo of intense nightmares and delightful dreams, but Paz seems to wake up whenever you whimper or let out with a small cry, reminding you in a hushed whisper that you are somewhere safe with him, rather than the infirmary or your hut. It’s not until you feel him stroking the tail of your brow that you fully fall into a peaceful sleep with visions of blue Beskar and strong arms.

You barely wake up with a quiet whimper hours later when you feel him lightly shuffling your body off of his before speaking in a soft, raspy whisper, “I must leave now for negotiations, cyare. You stay here and rest, okay? I shouldn’t be too long.”

“M’kay,” You blearily hum, nuzzling your face into the pillow that smells like Paz and you’re only slightly aware of the way he gives you one last kiss against your brow before he leaves you to put his armor and helmet on and begin his duties for the day.

You don’t sleep for too much longer, finding that Paz has taken all the warmth with him, even with the plush, thick fur that covers your body. You stare up at the ceiling for a few until you hear the covert slowly come alive, metal scraping against metal and loud shouts in an alien language followed by ringing laughter. Feeling slightly lazy and useless, you decisively get out of the comfortable, massive bed and make your way into the refresher, preparing yourself for what you think might be a long, strange day.

It feels bizarre seeing your hair without its flowers and a part of you wonders if Paz still has the flowers you gave him; perhaps you would still be able to plant them and grow some more, you ponder hopefully.

After you finish your typical morning routine, choosing to leave your hair without your usual braids, you throw on your leggings and sweater before cautiously poking your head out the door. You’re surprised to find the corridor empty and slowly leave Paz’s quarters, despite his insistence on you resting.

Curiosity has you nervously wringing your hands together as you make it to the staircase that Paz had led you down the previous night, and you jump a little upon hearing loud cheering and the shrill sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other. After finally making it up the stairs, you tentatively head in the direction that the ruckus is coming from.

It’s not until you hear Paz’s infuriated baritone of a voice that you make haste to the armory, barely remembering how to get there. Eventually, you round a corner and nearly freeze upon seeing several armored Mandalorians surrounding what appears to be some sort of altercation in front of the forge and you immediately sigh when you see a blue helmet right in the center of it. 

You spot Ima, who seems to stand out from the others with her bright armor and you perk up a little as you approach her.

“Ima,” You say her name just loud enough for her to hear over the a loud shriek of metal being scraped, successfully gaining her attention as she turns to face you, “What’s going on?”

“See for yourself,” She sounds slightly amused and you allow her to place a hand on your shoulder, urging you between her and another huge Mandalorian that barely cocks his helmet to look down at you, “Your ori kebiin verd is fighting for your honor, though I don’t think Djarin is putting up much of a fight.”

You gasp upon seeing the bounty hunter from the previous day crumbled to the ground on his knees, Paz’s hand curled into the thick material of his cowl to hold him up properly.

“How many credits did you deem her life worthy of?!” Paz roars and you instantly freeze, thinking you’ve never heard him this infuriated, even towards your father, “Tell me you fucking hu’tuun! Tell me how many credits you were given in exchange for an innocent, precious life!”

“Five hundred,” The bounty hunter rasps, sounding weak and terribly injured underneath all the Beskar and your instincts have you stepping forward, though Ima is quick to ground you in place with a hand on your shoulder; she simply shakes her head when you peer up at her.

“Five--you gave her away for five hundred credits?!” You feel frozen as Paz forces him to his feet and drags him over to the forge that is now activated, “You only did it because you thought she would be an easy target, didn’t you, Djarin?”

The bounty hunter grunts when Paz forcefully pushes him backwards, slamming his head against the outer rim of the forge before wrapping his fingers around the injured man’s neck and holding his shiny helmet close to the intense flames.

You immediately voice your fears to Ima, who seems unfazed, as though this is a common occurrence, “Is Paz going to actually kill him?”

“Nah, this happens all the--” She stops mid sentence upon hearing the bounty hunter’s grunts and groans from the intense, suffocating heat that’s trapped underneath his helmet, though Paz makes no move to let him go, “Actually, he might go through with it this time. If not, Djarin’s definitely going to wish he was dead.”

“What?” Paz scoffs when the bounty hunter begins to thrash a little harder against the warrior’s unwavering grip, the heat most likely becoming more unbearable, “Can’t handle a little heat, vod? I’m sure you’re crying under that damn helmet more than she cried when you forced her to cauterize her own fucking wound.”

“I didn’t--” The bounty hunter sounds like he’s trying to disguise his excruciating pain and you feel your shoulders tense up to your earlobes, hating that you feel sympathy for the man who attempted to trade your life away for such a small price.

“Do you know how many times she tried to tell you?” Paz’s voice drops to a terrifying growl, the noise crackly and you wonder what’s currently going through his mind, “Do you know what she already had to deal with every damn day and you--” Tears fill your eyes at the pain in his next words, “You know what she means to me and you made her too scared to even look at me, hu’tuun. I almost lost her because of my own brother!”

You fear that the bounty hunter has passed out when he doesn’t respond, his body growing limp underneath Paz’s grip, but the warrior continues, “Why don’t I help you with that heat problem, Djarin? Bet you could use a little fresh air.”

You gasp when a large hand moves to the chin of the bounty hunter’s shiny helmet, his fingers curling underneath the lip and you immediately understand what he wants to do.

“You’re going to look her in eyes when you beg for forgiveness at her feet, Din Djarin.”

Translations *this is for all the dialogue between Imalia and Paz*

norac bid Nusujii, ori kebiin=back so soon, big blue?

cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu?=is this your tiny medic, uncle?

Elek=yes (Lek is more casual, like ‘yeah’)

Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh=I want to see her

Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic=You can't tease her like this

Ni guuror kaysh=i like her

cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel=Is your tiny medic always this soft?

tion'jor an te tal?=why all the blood?

vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh?=where is the flower you were excited to give her?

cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?= is the medic injured?

ner alor=my leader

Then there’s the usual words for nicknames and such:

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Hu’tuun=Coward

Verd=Warrior

Author’s note: Thank you all so much for the kind, supportive words on the last chapter!! Like, literally everyone has been so sweet and so supportive despite me being more inactive than usual and it seriously means the world to me?? Like I said before, I’m so excited to have more time to be active on here and interact with you all much more!! I love you all so much, hope you’re having a wonderful day, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it <33

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero​ @haloangel391​ @honestlystop​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @haloangel391​ @awhiskeywithawinchester *As always, if I missed anyone, please let me know ASAP!! 

#paz vizsla x reader #Paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla #ngl #Paz is just an angry boi #saviin is like #bitch u left our warm bed to kick Din's butt??

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 23)

He is still angry even when the flask is in his hands. In fact, she thinks that he might be angrier now that he has it. Now that he is staring at the label. His brows knit and his face is marked with a look of something that lies between loathing and repugnance. “You’ve had my daughter’s head this whole time!?” And when he puts it like that it really does sound quite horrible.

“I didn’t think that you would want to know until she is back in one piece.” She lies. Mostly it is that she had forgotten to tell him entirely. Partly she didn’t want him to know at all. He already thinks her to be a monster--surely he must.

“Of course I would have wanted to know! She’s my daughter.”  They already had this discussion. She doesn’t want to have it again.

“My God! What would you have done to me if I trapped parts of Cassandra and kept them in a flask?”

She would have dismembered him and he knows it. “Mother Miranda gave me a task and I didn’t want to disappoint her. I had to…”

“You haven’t been in league with her for a little over a month now. Have you?”

Her face pales, “I--that’s preposterous, Winters! Why would I go through all of this trouble if I wasn’t on your side?”

Moreau looks between the two of them, following the conversation with his eyes and slinking back at the roughest and loudest points of the conversation. “Perhaps it is time for a change of topic.” He suggests. “I watched a very silly TV show the other day…”

“Quiet, Moreau!” She snaps.

“Don’t take your mistakes out on Salvatore.” Ethan scolds. “He might be a little dull but at least he’s honest and actually kind of friendly.”

Kind of friendly… Is she not pleasant company to keep? She had thought that she wasn’t so awful to be around. “Ethan, this was a mis--”

“Don’t try to tell me that this was a misunderstanding! It’s very clear; you were hiding part of my baby from me. You had plenty of time to tell me but you didn’t.”

Really she doesn’t think that there is anything to say to that. It is rather simple and entirely indisputable. And it certainly was not a small and mundane detail to forget. Though forget she did. “Well you have the flask now. Unharmed and untampered with.”

There is no thank you and the frown doesn’t leave his face. He turns away from her. “I’m going to get the other flask from House Beneviento.” "Alone?"

"Of course not!" He replies. There is a short lived flutter of relief on her heart. "Salvatore will be coming with me."

She crinkles her nose. "Why him!?" Why would he choose that rancid little fish man over her? It is likely the same reason that "I am a more useful travel companion." She still has her doubts about this. She can still only barely use that gun and mostly he had to quite literally carry her throughout their journey.

"That doesn't mean anything if I can't trust you."

"Then what will I do?"

"Figure it out."

So he will recruit her siblings and leave her behind after she had paved the way for him to do so. She will have to grovel for Mother Miranda's mercy, will have to swear that Winters had coerced her. And in doing so she would only confirm his suspensions, but what would it matter anyhow? If he thinks the worst of her she may as well show him the worst. Maybe it would be best to let him go and she can warn Mother Miranda while he is gone. That would keep her and her daughters safe. And they are the only things that matter to her.

"You won't like what I figure out, Winters."

He is already storming forwards the door. Moreau hesitates, once again looking between the two of them before meekly following Ethan.

Fine, let him go! He will see if she lets him back into Castle Dimitrescu! She has given him his silly flask, she hopes that it will be enough to keep him well away from her and her daughters.

He doesn't bid her a farewell and she won't open her doors to him when he returns. "Come on girls, let's go share a glass of wine." She will have a copious amount of it. A very copious amount.

.oOo.

He feels both prideful and guilty to leave her. To have stood his ground against the woman after letting her walk all over him even. He spares only a glance back at the castle and wonders if he has made a mistake. Alcina’s moods can be quiet turbulent even without having them roused.

He is pushing his luck and he knows it, maybe he has pushed it too far. But he has made his decision and he won’t go back on it. Not when that would give her the impression that she is in the right. Not when that would open the door to let her continue to walk all over him.

“Lady Dimitrescu isn’t pleased.” Salvatore squeaks.

“She usually isn’t.” Ethan grumbles. Though he is well aware that she is more than just a little unpleased. He hasn’t even left the castle grounds and his heart and head feel heavy. There is something that feels so permanent about this departure.

And when he reaches the gate he looks back at Castle Dimitrescu once again. He shouldn’t have.   He sees her in the window, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. She holds a glass in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

He isn’t sure what sort of display he will come back to. He isn’t sure if he should come back until after Karl is on his side. Now that he has good and angered her he thinks that his odds of being double crossed have heightened. So maybe it is in his best interest to change his plans. Yes, he will go and visit Karl once he retrieves a flask from Donna. He hopes that he won’t have to kill the woman to get it. He peers at Salvatore, loyal, timid Salvatore and hopes that that will be enough.

.oOo.

The Duke clicks his tongue, he doesn’t know how many bottles the lady has gone through. Probably enough to have gotten her taller self drunk. In current she is far past drunk; likely within the next few minutes the poor thing will be sprawled out on the floor or slouched in her arm chair.

He watches Cassandra stabilize her when she stumbles.

“Maybe you should go to bed, mother?” Bela asks only to have the woman stubbornly shake her head.

The Duke doesn’t feel particularly comfortable, nor gentlemanly in going through Dimitrescu’s belongings but he recalls Ethan mentioning that he should sell her as much alcohol as it will exasperate her condition. The woman is having a rough time as it is without a physical flare up.

He finds her pills and sets a green bottle on the dining room table. “Cassandra, come over here.”

She steps away from Daniela and Bela who are working to get their mother to her feet. “We’re a little busy, Duke.”

He gestures to the medications and resting his hands back upon his belly he replies, “just see to it that your mother gets a dose of both of these tomorrow. First thing in the morn.”

“Of course.” She nods.

Perhaps he ought to stay anyways, just to make sure that the woman is okay. At any rate he doesn’t even get the chance to leave. She stumbles her way over and practically flings herself upon him. Thankfully he is very much an unmovable man. She buries her face in his rotund belly and mumbles something both enraged and indistinguishable through tears and a drunken slur.

“Yes, yes, you are right, Lady Dimitrescu.” Though he can’t be certain that she has made a statement that required agreement. And if she has, he can’t imagine that it would be smart to agree with her. It matters not--she won’t recall in the morning so he pats the back of her head and lets her weep and rage about ‘that asshole Winters and his stupid baby.’

“There, there, Lady Dimitrescu, he will be back soon enough.”

Her shouting and crying only grows that much louder.

What a mess these two have. He has to give it at least a small chuckle. He waits until the woman finally passes out to beckon Daniela and Bela over. He watches them carry her towards the stairwell. He supposes that he wouldn’t mind spending a night in the guest bedroom, the lodgings here are quite comfortable.

#Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Ethan Winters #Alcina/Ethan #Fanfiction

[vindicatedvirgil]

not every wave is a tidal wave

Summary: Logan is a sea captain… but he has a bit of a fear of what lies at the bottom of the ocean. At times, Logan is unsure of his choice in First Mate, but Remus proves that he was the correct choice. 

Inspired by a piece of art by Cat from discord!! 

Title inspired by the song Tidal Wave by The Mountain Goats.

Ship: Platonic Intrulogical (Remus x Logan)

Warnings: Discussion/Fears of what lies at the bottom of the ocean, teasing from Remus, but fluffy platonic appreciation and platonic cuddles at the end. also i know nothing about sailing whoops

Word Count: 1406

---

Logan peered out at the waves rolling beneath the ship, and, for once, he let his mind wander. Sailing was peaceful (most of the time): the soft spray of ocean mist, the sound of the waves below and gulls above. When his crew wasn’t shouting over sail positions and trajectories, Logan found himself leaning against the railings, eyes focused on nothing but on everything — the horizon, the sun shining off of the sea… all of it. 

As a child, Logan was sickly, and spent all of his time indoors, reading about pirates sailing on the open water, going on adventures, battling for treasure. And now as an adult, he spent all of his days on the water, seeking that same thrill that he felt every time he embarked on a journey with one of his books. 

Books never told him how messy and uncomfortable life could be out at sea. They romanticized every aspect of sailing, a harsh reality that Logan had to confront once he became Captain of his father’s ship, Curiosi-Sea. It was a name that Logan absolutely despised, but his father’s final wish was for the ship’s name to remain. And so, Logan kept the name. Spitefully. He was a serious captain, not silly like his pet-loving, pun-making father. And he made sure that his crew knew that he was serious; almost every single one believed this. 

Except for one. Remus was a strong-bodied and even stronger-willed crewmate who quickly proved himself to be worthy of being Logan’s First Mate. But compared to Logan’s neat appearance even on the roughest days at sea, Remus wore torn shirts and pants, his curls framing his face in an unprofessional light. And the comments that Remus would make… they made Logan shudder to remember. 

And it was at that moment, that meditative moment in the early morning light, when Remus decided to rear his head once again, throwing Logan for a loop. The captain barely registered the footsteps thundering behind him, and so he jumped when a hand clapped onto his back. 

“Morning, Cap! Hey, what’s with the long face?” Remus mused, leaning against the railing, a smirk toying beneath his mustache. Logan had to constantly bite back the suggestion that Remus trim or remove the mustache, because he knew that the first mate loved it; it separated him from his twin brother, who had remained on land to become a successful businessman. “Thinking about the name of the ship again, are we?” Logan blinked at the man; how could he perceive him so well? It was like Remus knew the ins and outs of Logan’s every move, and it was absolutely startling.

“What? No,” Logan lied, eyes returning to the spot on the horizon that he had focused on before being rudely interrupted. “Get the men up, we need to weigh anchor and get moving before the next storm hits.”

“Yessir!” Remus mocked, his hand flying up in a parodied salute before spinning on his heel, his footsteps slowly fading away, leaving Logan alone with the sea once again.

-

The rain battered against the window of Logan’s quarters, the flickering candlelight beside him the only thing keeping him awake to read one of his old battered novels. They had escaped from the brunt of the storm in time, but the rain and thunder still howled outside, his men safely tucked away in their cots. 

Still, Logan couldn’t bear to sleep; not on a night like that, when there was sure to be flooding on deck the following day. There were plans to be made, and their next move to be planned, but Logan couldn’t allow himself to touch those things; he needed the comfort of one of his childhood books, the worn spine and dog eared pages reminding him of a time when his thin fingers would turn the pages so quickly they tore, all because he strove to know what would happen next in the story. 

There was a banging out on the deck, and before Logan could even set his book down to go investigate, the door to his cabin swung open, revealing a frantically smiling, soaking Remus. Logan let his book fall to the table as he stood, grabbing some material from his linen closet to throw over the man.

“What in the world are you doing, Remus?” He demanded, trying to force his worry down his throat in favor of sounding more stern (though he was sure his eyes, despite hiding behind glasses frames, would give him away). “You could have been thrown off deck with no one to notice.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I had a rope tied around my waist in case that happened,” Remus laughed, carding one of his hands through his sopping hair. “You should have joined me, Cap. Dancing in the rain brings a lot of joy to one’s soul.” Logan couldn’t stop the hasty breath that pushed out of his nose in disbelief at this. 

“I don’t dance, Remus,” he said simply, leading Remus to sit in one of the chairs at the table. Once the first mate was seated, Logan sat back down where he was previously, but his eyes were still trained on his friend. “Pretty late in the night for a dance, is it not?”

“It’s pretty late to be up reading an adventure novel, and yet, here you are,” Remus bit back, but his tongue stuck out between his teeth, showing that he was teasing his Captain. “Rumor has it that you’re afraid of the bottom of the ocean, Logan. Are you afraid that a squid might eat you?” Logan blinked, briefly wondering which of the older crew, which of the men that had previously served with his father, let this information slip. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.

“I can assure you that those claims are false,” he said quickly, but Remus narrowed his eyes at the man, then nodded. Logan was grateful that, for once, the man didn’t press the subject any further. “I thought I would read a bit before charting our next course of action. We need to dock somewhere within the next week to refill supplies.”

“You should rest,” Remus finally said, his eyes landing on the perfectly made bed. When was the last time Logan had slept in his bed and not at his desk? “If we’re meant to dock within the next week, we might be running some late nights between now and then.”

“I can’t-”

“Because of the storm?” Remus asked. Logan looked down at his hands; they were dry from the consistent dampness of the ocean air, but then he nodded. 

“I’m not as strong as my father was,” Logan admitted, his eyes trailing to the portrait hanging on the wall. His father was the strongest person he had ever known, despite the puns and silliness, he put his crew and family first. Logan could remember being brought onto the ship for the first time in his adolescence, and how proud Patton had been to show off his son who could read books, his son who would make an amazing captain someday. And yet… Logan was sure that he could never live up to his father’s shadow.

“You don’t need to be as strong as he was,” Remus said, pulling Logan free of his memories. He blinked up at his first mate, who was drying off gradually, but had a serious look on his face, an unusual sight. “That’s why you have a crew, and a first mate. You’re exactly the kind of captain that you need to be, not the kind of captain that your father was.” Logan sighed, but nodded, knowing that Remus was right. Logan had let his own insecurities wash over him instead of allowing himself to feel emotions. His father was the most emotional man he’d ever met, and yet he was still fully capable of being a great captain. “Get some rest, Logan. I’ll stay here with you tonight.”

And Logan listened. He shed his overcoat and set his glasses on the desk, then burrowed himself underneath the blankets of his bed. He barely registered Remus changing out of his damp clothes, blowing out the last candlelight, and climbing into bed behind the captain, holding him to protect him from the nightmares of dark ocean abysses and squids eating him alive.

Remus was a great first mate, but he was an even better best friend.

---

[SEQUEL: harbor me when i’m lost, when i’m breathless]

if you enjoyed this, please reblog! it helps creators like me spread our work to more readers.

[AO3] [tumblr masterlist]

#amanda writes sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic intrulogical #logan sanders #ts logan #remus sanders #ts remus #intrulogical #please reblog

[blevinsjustice60]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. Everyone loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on k beauty supply can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#korean beauty store

[shield-sheafson]

Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Found Family, Fluff, Light Angst, Homelessness, Cass knows like 8 words rip, slight crime, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, street siblings au Summary:

Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him. That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.

—

This is my take on the Street Siblings AU by @a-sketchy-character​!  I told them earlier that I’d write something for it, so here I am owning up! Of course, you can read their comic based on this au @streetsiblings.  Of course, @greytoiletpaper also wrote one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306) and Experimental_Muse wrote this one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882).  Go check them out!  Since this is such a popular concept, I hope I do a good job.

—

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he’s not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he’s eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn’t found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it’s so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he’ll go to the library. He’s still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody’s there. This doesn’t calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you’re about to do, buddy.”

What is the invisible person about to do? Jason isn’t sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it’s just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he’s a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

—

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot– when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she’d splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn’t have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It’s dark out,” Jason says. He’s not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They’re basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn’t,” the man says. “What’s a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I’m supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin’, just askin’,” the man says, raising his palms. “I’d just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy’s been– what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I… It’s not safe for kids out there lately, is all I’m sayin’.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It’s never really safe out there, but he’s always gotten by fine. “You’re not a kid, so you’re fine.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

—

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman’s wallet from her purse and he’s certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald’s with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it’s almost disappointing when there’s nobody to answer. He’s not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

—

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he’s been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it’s not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he’s risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it’s damp and he’s having a rough time getting it to set alight.

“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It’s a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That’s when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason’s head snaps up. He’s afraid to turn and look. At best, it’s another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it’s…

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn’t go away. He feels frozen in place– he’ll admit it, he’s afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn’t know who or why. He hasn’t had a moment where it’s not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he’s carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he’s able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn’t try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who’s apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They’re a kid. They’re (she’s) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You’re really small,” he says through the hand that’s still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl’s face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn’t just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn’t answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I’m Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn’t say anything.

The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There’s garbage in there, so it’ll stink.”

She doesn’t nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

The girl doesn’t respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It’s a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she’s smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

—

Jason realizes he’s awake before his eyes open. He’s aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it’s daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he’s not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He’s lucky they didn’t. He shouldn’t be so– what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She’s still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won’t answer. “In this alley?”

The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just– just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he’s certain that she’s staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What’s her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she’s been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That’s a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason’s open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can’t hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop’s manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He’s wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It’s kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it’s a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when– oops.

“Watch where you’re going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh… It’s you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I’d ask you to stop following me, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don’t like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren’t as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they’ve all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn’t wearing socks, he realizes. That can’t be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re new around here,” Jason says. “You’re not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I’m not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn’t sure she’s taking in what he’s saying.

“Seriously. You can’t hang out with me. I’m busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he’s in a pretty good mood right now.

#batman #dcu #jason todd #cassandra cain #street siblings au #dc #me writing

[sheppardmcleod]

Tips On Creating Beauty From The Inside Out

Almost every woman - and more than one man - has a well-established personal beauty regimen. There is so much useful advice available in the field that the odds are very good that a few quick tips can significantly improve the effectiveness of a beauty routine. Here are some tips: Smear Vaseline onto your feet before you go to bed. This makes your feet feel nice and soft, which is almost like a pedicure. Make this a nightly ritual for your beauty routine so it becomes a habit. Apply the Vaseline to the feet, and then cover with socks just as you are getting ready for bed. Apply a few tablespoons of sweet almond oil to your warm bath for a relaxing treat that will leave even the roughest, driest skin feeling supple and soft. You can also apply it sparingly to extremely dry and damaged hair - but only on the inch or so above the ends. For added impact and eye-opening, beautifully curled lashes, use a heated eyelash curler. If you would prefer to use a regular eyelash curler, you can create a similar effect by giving your curler a quick blast of a few seconds with your hairdryer. This will help to hold the curl and prevent smudging. You can make your lips appear bigger by applying a shimmery white eye shadow in the middle of your upper lip. Highlighting this area of your lip so that it catches and reflects the light helps to create the illusion that your upper lip is fuller than it really is. When you nail polish starts to thicken up, you can add a few drops of nail polish remover to the bottle to thin it. Shake the bottle well after the addition of the nail polish remover to mix thoroughly and continue your manicure as usual. You should be able to get several more applications from the bottle. When you blend a moisturizer with your foundation, it will apply smoother and will last longer too. Choosing a moisturizer with sunscreen will help to prevent sun damage and the lotion itself will keep your face moisturized, creating a healthy glow. Since unwanted facial hair can be embarrassing, remove it. You can easily do this yourself by using wax or tweezers. Or, you can have it done at a salon by a professional. Either way is an easy solution to help you feel better about your appearance. If you already have skin problems, you need to be especially careful when selecting make up to not worsen the situation. Avoid make ups with any oil in them, and sparingly use moisturizers, foundations, eye makeup, and blushes labeled oil free. Also look for non-comedogenic products, which do not encourage the closure of pores. Most women would be surprised to know that the average female devotes more than 60 hours of her life to the ordeal of shaving and waxing. Laser hair removal, while somewhat costly, will save you a great deal of time and nicks on your legs, underarm, face, and bikini area. Remember that fragrance rises. Scents rise. When applying perfume or scented body mist, put it lower on your body. Do not apply too much by putting a little everywhere. Just apply a little around your ankles. The scent will rise without being as overpowering as some perfumes tend to be. To keep your eyeliner from smudging, apply your eye shadow on top of your eyeliner using a damp cotton wool q-tip. This will help you keep your look for the entire day without your eyeliner coming off or leaving marks under your eyes. học nghề tóc loves how they look when they first apply their eyeliner, and this will keep that look going strong. Putting on your own nail polish can be very frustrating, especially when using your non-dominant hand. Next time, apply your normal two color coats and a topcoat in the evening (give the polish a few hours to dry before bedtime). Don't worry too much if the polish gets on your cuticles. Then, in the morning, take a hot shower, and all the extra polish on your cuticles and skin will rub right off. The processes, techniques and products that make up a personalized beauty regimen need not be expensive or time-consuming. Even though satisfactory beauty results depend on hard work, working smarter can save a lot of time. Tips like the ones above might be valuable keys to getting better results with less effort.

#học nghề tóc