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yuna-dan · 4 years ago

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Only the Ocean (Ch. 3)

starstruckfireblizzardChapter three: Into the Open Air

I wrote this like a month ago, but I just post it cuz it just got beta’d by the bestest friend someone could ask for @awkwardkindanerd

I have not feeling any okat, tbh. Writiing is kinda helping distract myself for a lot of things that’s happening right now, and yeah. I don’t wanna be like i need validation to write but it’s nice and it would make my day better.

Huh, I don’t know what to say, so yeah, Thanks!

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Tag list: if you wanna be added to the tag list please interact with this

Warning for the Chapter: Description of burnt skin. Bad Language. I think that’s it.

Music That Inspired this Chapter [x]

Previous Next Kofi?

The first thing that Logan noticed was that the Royal Ship was enormous. His eyes were shining as if he was again that little kid who saw a Marine Ship for the first time. The Royal was bigger than Logan’s old ship, that was for sure.

The salty air was hitting his face, and he felt some excitement going through his veins.

“Welcome aboard .” The-his (his) Captain said. Logan noticed some members of the crew waving at him as they were standing in the middle of the deck. Near the rudder was what he assumed was the Captain’s cabin. “Thomas, Virgil, show him the rest of the ship. Patton come with me, Dee and I need to discuss something with you.” Remus turned around, leaving Logan staring at his long greenish coat. The sound of his boots against the wooden floor echoed, as the rest of the crew aye ayed at his order.

“The rest of you, go back to whatever you were doing.” Dee, Logan assumed he was the first mate. As he barked the order, the rest of the crew went back to their work. He counted at least other seven people, and he wondered if those were enough for a pirate crew, since when he worked for the Marine, they were almost twenty sailors plus the cookers. Then again, pirates worked different.

A young boy who couldn’t be older than seventeen approached him. “So,” the teen said, standing right of front of him with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face. He was shorter than Logan, “follow us, Virge and I will show you the way.”

“Huh?”

“I am Thomas, surely you heard our Captain telling us,” His thumb pointed at Virgil who, now Logan noticed, changed his demeanor, standing taller and with a small frown on his face, “to show you the way…”

“Oh…” He said, following the teen around, “I’m Logan…” he said, after an uncomfortable silence surrounded them, earning a chuckle from one of them. Thomas made a noise of acknowledgement but continued walking. “That’s the Captain’s cabin,” pointing at the small room where Remus, Patton and Dee had disappeared, “The small room next to his is Dee’s, his name is Damien and he’s the first mate as you can already imagine.” Logan nodded, his fingers aching to write that down on the small journal that he was still holding.

They walked towards the beak, “You already know where the dungeons are, and welp,” Logan kept glancing at Virgil, who hadn’t said a word since they started walking. They kept walking until they reached some stairs, “This is where we sleep,” He gestured to a room where there were some bunk beds and a small bathroom at the end. “That way, to the right it’s what we call the kitchen and were we eat. We normally take turns to make the food, but Pat’s in charge of that…”

They kept walking, showing Logan were the supplies were kept and where they stored the maps to keep track of their routes. They ended the tour at the infirmary, which apparently was also Patton’s responsibility. “Any questions?”

He glanced at Virgil, who was looking at him with a softer smile, “Not really…” Thomas nodded, turning around, ready to leave. “Just… Is it safe to have kids here?” Virgil laughed at that comment, throwing his head back. “How old are you, Thomas?”

Thomas, on the other hand, still with his cheerful smile said, “I’m old enough to know you haven’t been on a pirate ship before, so technically older pirate-wise than you…”

“Okay, okay. That was uncalled for, Tom.” Virgil said, messing with his hair, “go help Remy, I’ll take Logan to his bed.”

Thomas agreed, mumbling down something like stupid or probably something even more rude, but Logan decided to ignore it. “He’s seventeen and he rarely participates on the fighting, he helps with the maintenance of the masts. The Captain met him when he was probably like ten years old and since then he stuck with us, so…” He shrugged, walking towards the rooms, “Patton knows the complete story. If you want to know, ask him.”

Logan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The Marine didn’t let kids on board.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not the Marine, are we?” Virgil snapped back, which was probably the normal answer to that, “Don’t go comparing everything with the marine, most of us won’t take it good, ‘kay L?” He said, as they arrived at the room where they sleep. “That bed is free so you can keep it.” He changed the subject completely before Logan could say anything else.

“Take a quick shower, I guess you can use some of my or Terrence’s clothes, we’ll buy you some things at our next stop…” The pirate stared at him. “Go, shower, hurry up.”

Logan hurried, he wasn’t sure what for, but something told him he didn’t want to be late.

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Remus’ head was on his desk. He kept banging his forehead against the map sprawled on his desk hoping that way he could finally understand it.

He had been looking for that specific place for almost ten months now. Maybe it was an imaginary place that his father had made up just so they could sleep when they were kids, but when Roman presented the wet map to him and told him that it was supposed to take him that specific island, he became obsessed with finding it.

He didn’t really know what he wanted to achieve by finding it, but he needed to know. Roman kept saying it would give him closure, but closure of what? He had accepted that Romulus was dead since he was ten years old, or probably younger, and he accepted that his mother was dead too. Truth be told, he didn’t want to dig too deep into his emotions, because deep down he knew exactly what he needed to deal with, but that didn’t mean he was ready to do it.

He pulled his hair out of his eyes, staring again into the piece of paper. He knew it was pointing at a specific place, but he didn’t know where in the vast seven seas (technically eight) it could be. He was ready to hit his head once again when he heard the door of his chamber opening, instantly knowing who was there.

“Is everything okay, Damien?” He asked, not even looking up.

His first-mate groaned in response, and Remus heard the way he threw himself into his bed. Remus chuckled at the dramatic expenses of his friend, “No. Tell me again, Captain, why am I in charge of training him?”

“Who?” He played dumb, biting his lower lip to held back the smirk on his face, even though Damien couldn’t see him.

“You know exactly of who I am talking about, Captain.” He hissed, and Remus stood up stretching the muscles of his back, feeling the way the bones cracked as he did it.

“Luke?” He guessed, trying to keep his face straight but failing miserably.

“Logan, but yes, him.” Damien was laying on his back, staring at the chandelier that was hanging on the ceiling. He had taken off the handkerchief that hid the burn on the side on his face and Remus couldn’t help but feel a pang of happiness at the fact that he was the only one who get to see him without it. Sometimes he wanted to touch it, to feel the wrinkled skin under his fingertips. However, he knew better than that and while he also knew that Damien would say yes if he simply asked, he would never put his best friend on that position.

“I don’t know, do you think Mo was a better option?” He asked, sitting on his bed, right next to him. “He doesn’t know combat like us, and that’s a disadvantage. I’m not willing to risk it… you were the best option, and you know it.” Remus noticed the way Dee’s lips tugged at the end, like fighting back a small smile. “Is he that bad?”

“I think Thomas was better, and he started training at the age of twelve.” They shared a laugh, as the Captain lied down next to Dee. Remus still wondered why the fuck he had given in to his brother’s and Patton’s pleads, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have his own fun.

It had been almost two weeks since Logan became a part of the crew, and ever since then, Remus refused to call him by his name, even if he now knew it. Of course, he was aware it was driving the other man crazy, but if he wanted to be petty, he was going to be.

His thoughts were broken as he felt Damien’s scarred hand brush the white-streaked hair from his face, “What are you thinking about, my Captain?” Damien whispered, almost inaudibly and the only reason the Captain listened was because they were close, almost too close.

Remus shrugged, “The Map.”

“Still can’t figure it out, huh?”

Remus sighed, “According to my compass it’s at the North of the village where Romulus met my mom, but I’m not sure anymore…” Dee hummed, not moving his hand away from the Captain’s hair, the pair now too afraid to move. “I guess we’ll have to wait. We will arrive at the next port in a few days, and we need more food, as well as gunpowder. Has Lucas decided what weapon he’s going to use?”

Finally, Dee removed his hand from the hair of his Captain, laying it instead on his shoulder, “I don’t think so, no. However, if I may give my opinion, he could use one of long distance damage, a rifle maybe, that way he wouldn’t have to engage in hand to hand combat.”

“Virgil won’t be too happy he’s stealing his… thunder.” Remus noticed the stiffness of Damien but decided to ignore it. Sometimes he would be like that, Damien, almost flirty but then when Remus decided to flirt back, he would become flustered and awkward. The merman found it almost cute but confusing as hell, so he played dumb.

“Yeah…” He said, finally. They stayed like that for a few more seconds until Damien cleared his throat, and abruptly stood up, “I will leave you to catch up with the map, my Captain.” As he was leaving the chamber, he turned his head and Remus noticed the flush on his cheeks, “By the way, food will be served in fifteen minutes and Patton told me that he won’t wait for you.”

“Mutiny, I say! That guy one day will riot against us, Dee.” He joked.

“Certainly, my Captain, by hugging us to death.”

When Dee left the chamber he leaned against the door, feeling his heart thumping against his ribcage. What were you doing? What if he noticed? He was ready to go back to his own chamber, and take a long back when he heard snickers, turning around and noticing Patton and Thomas smirking, with Logan holding a smile.

“What are you three doing here?” He yelled, feeling his unburnt side flushing, “Do you want to walk the plank!?”

“Oh captain, my captain.” Thomas mimicked.

“GO. NOW.”

Logan heard the humming, it never stopped really. He wanted to go up to the deck and listen closer, but whenever he wanted to leave the room, Virgil was there, as if he was protecting something. It would be awkward to explain why he wanted to go to the deck in the middle of the night, so he pretended to be asleep as the humming lulled him into that. [NA: No se si se dio a attender, que el hum lo lullea a dormir de vdd]

Today at least he had an excuse, since it was his turn to clean the deck.

He was getting used to the pirate life, and truth to be told, most of the crew were a bunch of dorks. Not that he would say that out loud, since most of those dorks could easily kill him.

He changed his clothes into some black pants and a sleeveless shirt. He really needed clothes that fit him correctly, and he was glad that the next village was closer. He put his boots on, stretched as the humming continued.

Once on the deck, he took a deep breath. He went to collect the stuff to clean it when something golden on the waves caught his eyes. He approached a side of the ship, hoping to see the fish from closer. He managed to get a glimpse of something in the sea, as he squinted to get a better image, not noticing the man staring at him.

“Is everything okay, Louis?” The Captain giggled as the man jumped into the air and then glared at him.

“I thought I saw something, Captain.”

“Why are you up so early?”

Logan stared into the ocean again, “It’s my turn to clean the deck, and I wanted to finish early so I could take some notes on the sea life.”

Remus hummed but didn’t leave, making Logan uncomfortable, what was he supposed to do now? Excuse himself and start his chores? Wait for the Captain to tell him something? Thankfully he didn’t have to wait, as Remus cleared his throat and continued,

“So, tell me, Lucas.” He continued, “How is this life treating you?”

Logan stared deeply into the waves, hoping to see again the golden fish, “Better than expected, Captain.”

“How so? If Dee told me correctly, you used to work for the Crown, right?”

“More or less. I was an investigator for them, they didn’t care about knowing more about the ocean, just exploit it…”

“And you think we’re different?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I am not sure about other pirates, sir-Huh, Captain.” Remus held back a smirk, “I guess this crew is different?” Now, that won his attention.

“How so?”

“Well, for starters I doubt all pirates let an ex-worker of the Crown on their ship, then the kid and of course, the relationship between Virgil and Patton. I am not sure about other pirates, but that kind of relationship on the Crown would’ve been punished with death.”

Logan noticed the way the Captain frowned at that, “You do realize how dangerous it’s to say something like that around their Captain, right? I could easily have them killed.”

And of course Logan knew that, and he would never expose someone like that, but then again, “What kind of Captain would you be if you didn’t know everything happening in your ship?” He retorted, without missing a beat.

Remus gave him a proudish smile, “Besides, those two are obvious as fuck, the other day I found them in the middle of engaging sexual activities…”

The Captain barked with laughter, “Those things I do not need to know, my friend.” Logan gave him a shy smile, “To be clear, we’re not like other pirates, no. I guess you can consider yourself lucky…”

Logan was about to say something else, when his Captain continued, “Now hurry up cleaning, I want this deck spotless before the crew gets up, Logan.” Remus clapped his hands, “We have many things ahead of us today.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

That was the first time his Captain referred to him by his name, and Logan couldn’t feel prouder of himself.

Yeah, Janus is still going with Damien, but it’s part of the story, so yeah.

Please consider donating or asking for a comission, I just got fired and I need money.

Thanks for reading!! Pls Reblog!! I need validation

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chiimmchiimm · 5 years ago

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❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 ❞

CHAPTERS “ 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.5 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: abuse ,very violence, , sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage, muscles, oral innuendo, insults, ANGST, painful memories.

“What are you looking for, honey?” His question resonates with a hidden grace. The crooked smile that characterizes him so much is raised beneath his mouth. I wake up from the floor causing the mattress to rumble when I release it. His elbow rests against the door knock in a relaxed manner. A red dial catches my attention in the palm of your hand. Squeeze a ball of what appears to be foam rubber while bowing my head to analyze my concern. My legs tremble in the darkness that shines in his black pupils. He caught me and I and he know it perfectly.

"Nothing." I defend myself from his accusation through a quick groan. "I thought you might need something and I came to find you."

"Aha." He hums as he throws and picks up the ball.

Then, I turn to the bed and point to the tumult of sheets.

"I have entered and I have seen that the quilt was sticking out. As you know, it is a serious fault not to make the bed well."

I cower before his gleaming eyes and for that reason I am not able to keep his eyes.

"I can't stand the lies, you know?" He rebuffs through a whispering record that completely obscures any external sound. With a push he leaves the wall sliding in front of me with skill. His fingers are framed in my chin to connect our eyes. That movement that he seems to like when he is near me only makes me vibrate with anguish. His eyes map all the details of my face as if he wanted to memorize my imperfections. It doesn't seem to bother him that he sneaked me into his room or I'm just sinning silly and looking at me like that because he's taking his time to think how strong his shame will be. Otherwise, at the moment that one of his fingers detaches from my chin and goes up to stroke my lower lip I get an involuntary gasp. His gesture leaves an overwhelming heat on my cheeks. But when he takes off his lips by releasing a small click later, the heat is completely removed from my face. "But do you know what he fucks me the most?" That liars continue to lie even knowing that they have been caught.

"Thirte-en." I whisper.

But his finger clenches my lips hitting the overture of my mouth. It doesn't hurt me it's just a simple pressure.

"Shh, shut up." He purrs like a child when he gets excited when they buy him a new toy. And although it hurts to admit it, I was his toy. Because I could handle my emotions with just one look. His smile extends to his entire face, it transmits me so much malice that I introduce saliva almost out of necessity. I try to get away from his body when he steps forward but his fingers on my face don't let me. It's gone. And I can't understand how it can seem so sane at the same time. Our closeness also helps me to analyze in greater depth the features of his face. He has a prominent nose that widens when something bothers him and wrinkles when he smiles. I don't know how I know that I just know that I know. Sliding through his other features I look feverishly at the strength of his cheekbones and on his sharp chin, going up a little more I find a small scar on my left cheek. A mole under his lower lip causes me curiosity, a part of me wants to stretch a finger and squeeze it but obviously I hold back because it's not appropriate. A lock of her dark hair is splitting her face in two. His hair seems to offer a breathtaking softness to the naked eye. I hate myself when thoughts of touching and tangling my hair shake my mind. His fingers are diverting the pressure until my neck is caught. He pushes with the back of his hand and I take a step in response, I don't know why my feet heed his demands but an itchy trance leaves me at his mercy. I faint when I bow my head, our noses rub against each other but at the moment I try to be aware of what is about to happen.

The metallic sound against the bars makes you turn your head immediately.

"Hey." Greets that sinister redhead. I feel his fingers tighten under my neck until he releases me. He seems upset about the interruption inexplicably. I am whipped terribly by guilt. What the hell had crossed your mind, Blair? "I don't interrupt anything, right?"

Does it? I frown at my mental question.

“What the hell do you want?” The sharp tone that jumps down his throat leaves me freezing. The redhead smiles nervously before entering the room completely. He knows he's upset. What he does not intuit is that it is not precisely because of him. I notice how the veins of his wrists dilate when he places his hands on his waist while waiting for an explanation.

"I come to give you what I told you." He explains with some gentleness towards the highest. Unified in a single thirteen eyebrows and lips when you hear it. Everything makes sense the moment he lifts his shirt and pulls out an envelope from underneath. Pale instantly because I remember the main problem. Thirteen's back muscles squeeze when they tense for unexplained reason. I observe in profile how his sharp jaw rises, what I can't figure out is whether it is because he feels anxious or too upset. His adam nut dances by his neck as soon as he receives the brown paper package in his hands. Suddenly, the redhead delights in my body in a quick tour.

"Thirteen ..." I beg.

"Shut up." He mutters neutrally. He then gives provisional attention to the redhead. The steps that I have advanced to approach him I have discarded as soon as my ears have roared from his low shout. His tattooed fingers open the envelope and take out a bundle of money. He drops the paper on the floor and starts counting ticket by ticket, which the one in front doesn't like.

"Come on, Thirteen. Don't you trust me?"

The nominee observes him in an overwhelming way, he is silent immediately. When he finishes counting it, he matches the bills on his bedside table.

“Do you see everything?” Affirms that chilling man. His perverse look seeks to meet mine, and he does when he stopped looking at the ground. I am so repulsed by the sticky movement his tongue makes on his lower lip. He gave a hoarse sob when he looked away. He wrinkled his disgusted nose. What I can't know is whether the redhead or the one who hasn't stopped looking at me since I've sat on an empty bed.

"Do not."

Like lightning, I turn my neck to look at him. The redhead opens his mouth in a toothless smile.

“How not?” It sounds calm but I know from the force that clenches his fists that he is not at all. And I can't be glad for it anymore.

"No. You lack interest for the late one week."

The redhead hides a howl by clenching his lips, however, in the end he ends up declining.

"Fuck, okay." He sighs, stopping any incipient so that the character of the chestnut rebentates. "How much is it?"

Thirteen moves his jaw slightly when he moves the bone to the right. Then, bite the inside of the cheek thoughtfully. It is at that very moment that his pupils contract to their normal state and he dedicates me some eternal seconds that leave me breathless before he makes his proposal.

"Thousand more."

“You're fucking me!” Roars the indignant redhead. And despite his deaf tone Thirteen does not move even a span. The redhead returns to his main position and chooses to calm down, then he smiles, appeasing the situation. "Come on, go." Take the two thousand five hundred. You and I know that this bitch is not worth that much.

I open my mouth in an offended exhale but I can't convey my disgust because Thirteen raises his palm in my direction forcing me to shut up instantly.

"What I want will be worth it." And if I tell you that the price has risen to a thousand more you pay it or you will have to learn to breastfeed it on your own.

"You are a son of a bitch." Braying takes two steps to glue their foreheads. Although the redhead has a couple of centimeters more than him, Thirteen does not seem to feel cowed by the rabid look that his opponent casts. In conclusion, it does not seem to give it enough importance because when he hears a soft growl from the highest he expresses a crooked smile.

"Thank you. And now out of my fucking sight you make my day bitter.

He gives me a mini-heart attack when the redhead raises a fist in the direction of Thirteen. But he doesn't finish his act, he leaves it in suspension. He grunts and increases the distance walking backwards. Because he realized that it is not a good idea to get into a fight with him. Because, despite the fact that his constitution seems strong it does not amount to the strong limbs that Thirteen marks on his shirt. He was at a clear disadvantage, so giving him one last look he added:

"This is not going to stay that way. I'm going to talk to Hong Kong."

The appearance of another subject in the conversation seems to tense him but he regains his composure. His nose widens and his lips part in a snap. His teeth crush inside his mouth and the vein in his neck becomes more noticeable. I am so surprised by his body's self-control because I can imagine his desire to kill the redhead when I start to admire his clenched fists. Without much more to say, he leaves the cell. The air seems thicker because of the tension that builds up on it. The door has been observed as the only hobby.

"Thank you," he murmured. My voice seems to bring it to the reality of a stupid. It blinks confusedly towards my body set apart in a corner.

“What?” “It's not a question, it's a statement of his bad character. He raised his eyebrows in response to his hoarse sigh. His feelings seem like a Macedonian of bewilderment and surprise. And then I realize something. Judging his neutral expression is not very difficult to conclude that he never or almost never thanks him. But of course, I always judge him too quickly. "Why the hell do you thank me?"

"Well you..."

“Me what?” He adds between breaths of breath. He seems more than annoyed with my attitude, as if doing a humanitarian act had only served him to feel a great bitter taste in his mouth. To my surprise, he lets out a hoarse laugh that intersperses with a gasp. "Do you think I've done it to protect your little pussy?"

He wrinkled his nose disgusted by his so rough vocabulary.

"No, bitch. He has paid me two thousand dollars just for you to eat his cock. This is not for you, it is for me. But let me tell you that as soon as he pays me the thousand more I am going to give a shit how rough it is. You will have your jaw left later. "Savoring your inner lip in anticipation of receiving another batch of bills. I release air through my nose. How could I think that this being can do something good for others? My suspicions have just confirmed my hypothesis, Thirteen has no heart and from what I can see it seems not to matter. I can't control the anger that runs through my veins, my eyes move to theirs alone. I finish it. I despise him with all my strength. A wry smile springs from my lips because I'm also anticipating how much I'm going to fuck you. Thirteen. Just wait.

"Bitch, your mother will be."

He approaches furiously towards me in rapid strides. He places his forearm on my neck and stamps me against the wall. In a rapid movement my feet stop touching the ground because it has slipped me up. I open my mouth exaggeratedly to catch air for my needy lungs. I raise my hands and start hitting his arm. The vein in your neck cannot be more dilated. Blood accumulates in the area of my head due to the pressure of his arm that acts as a plug for my arteries. I cough innumerable liters of saliva and close my aching eyes. I feel his breathing in my ear before a scream overflows my eardrum.

"In your fucking life, talk about my mother again!"

Although it is too much fear that blocks me I open my eyes when I hear his pain. I close them again when more pressure is applied. If not, I will pass out.

"Maybe, your mother is a slut, right? Of course, that's why you're so bad-spoken and you lack the sense of respect. I bet your father was a good person that you fucking and vulgar mother seduced. Sure, in how much the pregnancy had to take care of you. Poor man and fucking whores. "

I really wanted to answer. Tell him that everything was false and not even close. Telling him that my father was a drunk Ludopata who beat my mother every night and when he didn't, he was unloaded with me. What else I would have liked to shout at her the shitty life I had to keep mocking her. But I had to retain the possible oxygen for my own survival.

"That's not ..." I was attracted when I coughed.

In the background, the maniacal laugh of Thirteen was heard. My eyes began to close and my arms fell heavily. I could not do it anymore. The last burst of air I had left was squeezed from my mouth when I said the last sentence. The last thing I heard were a few steps and a familiar voice. Then I fell to the ground.

I squeezed my eyes when the receptors in my pupils caught too much light. Still with the blurry sight I walked the place where I was lying. I glanced down and the first thing I saw was that a blanket covered me and a tube was embedded in my arm. I reached out to touch the small clip that caught my finger to measure the vital signs. I didn't know that place but everything pointed out that it was the jail infirmary. Who will have brought me? Was it the voice I heard before falling into darkness? I try to straighten but a puncture in the column of my neck forces me to stop. When I groan, a nurse appears with a worried smile.

"Try not to move much." He gently advises while jogging around me. The pink folder that catches his right hand is shaken with skill as he writes about it. Then he puts it in a metal tray and looks at me sighing. "It hurts, right?"

Seat.

"Who ..." My voice sounds too hoarse and weak.

"A blond boy."

I am perplexed. It was Jimin.

"I'm going to give you a receipt to give to the principal, okay honey?" You already know to be absent from your homework these days and have a liquid diet. You still have inflamed muscles. "

"How long have I been?"

"Oh, you've been unconscious for three days." When he replies, I shrink in bed. My eyes shoot in random directions through the vein of nervousness that stifles my conscience.

A few knocks on the door attract the attention of the nurse.

"Miss Dorotea, I have finished ordering the ibuprofen boats." An especially familiar voice triggers all my alarms. My neck acts as a pier when it rises to observe the brown-eyed smile. The nurse gets up from my stretcher to receive him. Then, the chestnut realizes my presence but avoids my gaze. I feel confused at the time that scratches his neck uncomfortable to have two pairs of eyes watching him closely. He doesn't look like the same guy who slipped my body a few days ago when he made my way to the cell difficult. He just looked like a normal boy who was ashamed of so much attention.

"Oh, thank you very much Taehyung but there is nothing else you can do." A hand drops his folder and points to me subtly. "As you can see I will be busy with a patient. You can go back to your cell."

Without more than telling the nurse surrounds his large body and gets into a door that I guess is the doctor's. An embarrassed throat makes him look back at the chestnut. The surprise is reflected in the widening of my eyes when I perceive a pink hue on her cheeks.

“How are you?” His whisper comes out under his lips. And I can't tell if it's because of nervousness or just his usual tone of voice.

I raise a stunned eyebrow.

"Are you asking me?"

Taehyung shrinks his stomach when he hears the weakness of my voice. Nods in a short nod.

"Why do you want to know?" Thirteen sent you. ”I click my tongue even though my throat hurts. Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a snore. "Well, tell him thank you so much for drowning. And that I regret it a lot, I'm still alive ..."

"He does not..."

"What?" I shout, but I regret it when I feel an intense prick in the column of my neck. "If you're going to justify the shit of a friend you have, please, get out."

"Not me." But he presses his lips. He seems to want to avoid giving me reason and that makes me feel a little better even though I physically want to pull a bridge. I see sincerity in his eyes. Melancholy bathes his masculine features as if he wanted to apologize to me that he knows I will not thank. "I will not justify what Thirteen did because I disagree." I am not a violent person I love to talk.

"Tell the boy you broke his hand with a bat."

My words seem to disarm any argument in their favor. In response, it gives me an overwhelmed sigh. My damaged instinct tells me that this boy is not as bad as he makes everyone believe, that he is left with the ruthless adjective for going with whom he goes.

"Sometimes, you have to do things you don't like to survive." That guy was a son of a bitch and not because he gave us money but because he was devoted to everyone. Don't think that seeing him so broken on the ground was weaker than us. Appearances are deceiving, believe me I know better than anyone. "

The unbearable squeak of electric doors rumbles inside my head. Upon entering my shared cell, Dallas throws his magazine to the bed and stands up suddenly. I dodge his worried look. My arms hang as I head towards my resting place. I move my back to adjust a good position on the mattress. Then, I raise my eyes to Dallas, who watches me from afar with his frown. I can not decipher the enigma of his gaze, I sense that he is upset because he does not stop looking at the big red marks on my neck.

“Who did that to you?” The question springs like a patient whisper. I roll my eyes at his false curiosity. My tooth catches my lip and then slowly releases it. When he directs a look full of anger towards his position, his back stretches.

"Come on, come on. Are you going to tell me you don't know?" My husky voice comes on the scene when it hits my throat irritation. I sit on the edge of the bed to better observe his confused reaction. I'm probably being that effusive because of the lack of sleep, I really don't recognize myself. Apparently, my uncontrolled anger also surprises her, I notice it in the opertura of her eyes. "Hasn't your boyfriend told you anything?"

“What does Jimin have to do with this?” For a single moment I doubt if he was really pretending or just didn't know anything about it. He spoke with so much confusion that he almost made me fall into the trap of his deception. Your little angel face won't converge on me. I grudge with my tongue dramatically as I put my hands on my knees and thus stand up. Shortening the distance that separated us only to see my disastrous marks better.

"Your boyfriend's friend almost drowned me the other day."

"Thirteen?"

I bow my head lost because of his so surprised tone. It seems as if he didn't believe what he had just heard, as if it were just an imaginary account that made no sense. God, I really didn't understand these people. It seems that this subject is a compulsive aggressive being, it should not surprise you so much to know that he was the culprit.

"Why?"

Your question overcomes my patience.

"Why?That psycho tried to kill me against a wall!"

Dallas raised his eyebrows after my statement. But there was something else in his paralyzed expression, something hidden that hid a deep secret. For the first time in the whole conversation when I looked for his gaze he avoided me. Turning his head toward the door, he suddenly ran away. I was surprised by his impulsive act, I leaned on the sides of the entrance and then, I knew who I was looking for when I stopped to ask one of the many women who were walking through the leisure area of our module. He disappeared shortly thereafter through the big yellow doors. Without knowing very well why, I ran down the stairs and tried to follow in the footsteps. I found her opening the patio door with too much force. The irons hit the wall when they collided with aggressive impulses. Shrugging my entire body, I decided to reach her in a small race.

I don't go out to the patio full body, I just settle in the door. Dallas walks with great strides towards a group of men. I recognize Jimin's silver color from my position. I think he's going to ask for explanations, but as soon as the blond approaches, she lifts his palm, stopping him. Then, I realize who your true objective is.

“Thirteen!” Her scream sounded so loud that the crowd of men immediately looked at her. Determined not to be intimidated, she placed herself in front of Thirteen. He swept his confused body. He furrowed his characteristic eyebrows while rolling his eyes. Finally, he separated his mouth with allusion and watched her annoyed. "We have to talk. Now."

Thirteen put his big hand on his knee, letting his elbow stand out. Imagine his dilated veins marked along his arm. I bow my head while raising an eyebrow.

"I'm playing cards, go with your temper tantrums elsewhere, girl." In a deep growl he declared his unwillingness to pay attention. He shook his head to the side to signal him to leave. Dallas stayed in place, surprisingly. Something that particularly caught my attention were two black bags under his dark eyes. He looked tired and with little patience. I deeply hope that he has not been able to sleep because of the regrets of his actions.

"Either you come with me or our conversation is done in public." Far from looking like an order, it seemed more like advice. The chestnut stopped observing the wad of letters from the bank and watched her furiously. Dallas crossed his pale arms as he raised his chin. Surprisingly, Thirteen got up. The remarkable height that the chestnut possessed did not intimidate her. Taking the audacity to wrap his wrist to pull him away from curious spectators. My body shakes abruptly when I see them heading towards my direction. In an inhuned speed I undo my way and hide in one of the many corners of the hall. With my chest agitated by the race, I pray that they will take the road to the cafeteria and not to the library.

"Release me, fuck." I recognize his angry tone when the door closes tightly again. My eyes look at the sides of the wall to my right. A door slams shut in a dull sound. I frown when I stop listening to his footsteps and voices. I take my head around the corner and see the deserted hallway. They cannot have disappeared from nowhere. I leave my hiding place too contrary to physical laws.

Low screams inside the cleaning closet make my head turn sharply. These sites should have more security. Recognizing their faces through a window of slits exposed above the door. I approach and he stood on tiptoe, they move their mouths so fast that I can barely understand what they say.

"You are the shame of the family." His comment leaves me breathless. I cover my mouth to cover an involuntary gasp. Thirteen looks sideways while placing both hands on his waist. His black bangs cover the reaction of his eyes, I can only see the movement of his mouth when pressed with pure irony.

“And when I haven't been?” His question comes camouflaged from something I understand as contempt. He shakes his head to observe her for a few seconds, his bloodshot eyes would intimidate even the fiercest of the jail, however, Dallas does not seem to affect him. His habit of dealing with such reactions leaves me speechless. There is something in the lack of brightness in his eyes that screams immense pain. He has his shoulders curled forward as if an abujero full of memories absorbed him until he was destroyed.I had never seen him so weak, and I am pleasantly surprised that he shows so much confidence with a girl that he is not supposed to have a relationship.

Wait a minute, he said it's his ...

Dallas's expression softens a little when he perceives the sadness that Thirteen shows.

“Why did you do it, Jungkook?” Calm down, he slowly denies his direction. He addressed, this time, with more tact and caution but without neglecting that reproving side. Thirteen closes his eyes when he hears his real name. He squeezes them in pain before looking at her with something that seems to be regret. I do not recognize him. As much as I try to see that lunatic psychopath I can't compare them. This boy seems to be a person who has suffered innumerable consequences, and not a murderer who seeks satisfaction in the pain of others. Was he the one Taehyung was referring to? "Are you becoming him ..."

"Don't you dare to compare me with him! I warn you, Lucy, don't do it again!" He shouts so loudly that even the door rumbles. There is so much anguish in his growl, so much pain. There is disgust reflected in his eyes. I don't know who Dallas would be referring to, but of course, he has a very strong influence on Thirteen.

"Then stop behaving like a damn abuser and be my brother again." There is anguish in his request. A despair so alarming that it leaves me frozen. Thirteen does not look at her. He tries to stay isolated from the world, but what he doesn't know is that his body betrays him. His broad chest rises and falls in coordinated movements while his pearly forehead shines with sweat. He is nervous. Very nervous.

"I'm not your brother, Lucy," he says, after a long distressing silence. My stomach shrinks when he directs his gaze to hers. The moisture that sprouts from your eyes is a reflection of the struggle that is suffering internally. Dallas bites his trembling lip to prevent a gasp from coming out of his mouth. "I couldn't even protect you ..."

His voice broke.

"What happened in the past was not your fault."

Lucy took a step toward her direction. His small hand touched his shoulder to turn it over. The muscles of his back tensed coldly at the touch. Thirteen waved his arm back and jerked away to a corner.

"Blair?"

✞

57 notes · View notes

elenatria · 5 years ago

Note

some valoris fluffyness- imagine Boris taking time to study Valery's face, finding all of his freckles and spots incredibly cute (even through the slight irradiated blush) and using his ability to maintain that cold expression to his advantage in order to check Valery out without him noticing anything out of the ordinary. (or perhaps that's what Boris has been doing this entire time!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824418

Boris EvdokimovichShcherbina rarely allowed his busy mind to drift when he was concentrating onthe task at hand. Millions of lives depended on his work, his tirelessdetermination, his hard decisions. The poisonous cloud over their heads servedas a constant reminder of the responsibility weighing down on him, nevertheless,he never let himself get distracted by the seeming futility of it all. Witheach passing day he would come to realize that, for all the reassurances andresources he had at his disposal, the Party had little concern for the liquidators,for the scientists, for himself.

He knew howexpendable he was just as he knew there was no other way. He should be travelingto Kiev for treatment every month, every week, but he was aware that no onecould replace him during his absence. The Party had made sure they had sent therethe one man who could do the work. The only man.

But he was justhuman; when the day seemed longer than usual his tired eyes would wander aroundthe trailer looking for solace in the next bottle of Vodka waiting to beemptied, or someone to yell at, some incompetent fool unable to fill a sack withsand, or an inanimate object with great potential for relieving his nerves if properlysmashed against the wall; he was never allowed to break cutlery at home so maybethis was his chance to accomplish his dream of giving symbols of modern lifethe fate they deserved.

After a day’shard work he was too exhausted to even contemplate getting off his chair for ashot of alcohol. If he had a choice his eyes would rest forever on the one thinghe had been obsessed with ever since he had landed on that doomed piece of land.

The Scientist.

It was likean itch, the need to sneak glances at the red-haired man with the greying templeswhile he was working, oblivious to his environment and the Ukrainian’s need tofeed certain forbidden fantasies, to ultimately find the silver lining of all thismess.

What an oddlythrilling sight Legasov was with his broad forehead, with glasses bigger thanhis freckled face and restless sapphire eyes behind them, wide with anxiety orsquinty and resigned when the workload was more than his fragile shoulderscould bear.

He looked sopale under the horrible white light of the generator, so isolated, Boriscaught himself thinking.

The deputyminister had learned the procedure by heart: Legasov would rub his numb knucklesone by one before removing the thick glasses to squeeze his eyes shut or to wipehis sweat with the heel of his palm. Sometimes he would massage his own neckwith those tiny wrinkled fingers of his in a futile attempt to get rid of thestrain of giving instructions to workers and soldiers all day long.

Valery wasspending too much time leaning over maps and notes that seemed to have no end,to the point that Boris was tempted to throw those notes to the fire if he didn’tknow they were essential to their work. Besides Legasov would probably replacethem in an instant.

Valery. Youignorant hard-working bastard.

He realizedthen he had just called him by his name for the first time; it was only athought buried under a cold expressionless face but it made him blush nonetheless.As if Legasov heard him he lifted his head to gaze at him absent-mindedly, eyesblurry and distracted, before sinking back to his notes while his shortdelicate fingers dug into his own shoulder. A twitch of pain and discomfort formedon his lips and furrowed brow.

Boris felthis muscles tense like a sprinter waiting for the shot. He would have sprung tohis feet had Valery asked for assistance, a pair of helping hands to massagehis aching shoulder blades, his rigid nape, his spine. He didn’t know when itstarted, when he first craved to touch him, but he was begging for thatquestion.

“Boris,could you--?”

God knows hewould ask for nothing more; an unfinished sentence, a thin finger pointing atthe neck he longed to feel. The nape he would gladly breathe heavily on.

Still, the questionnever came. It was too much to ask, Legasov didn’t seem to be a man who yearnedto be touched, least of all by his new colleague, the Party Man. Boris knewthey had started off on the wrong foot and was cursing himself for being so briskwhen they first met, when they first talked on the phone. He could neverimagine liking the man, longing to rid him of his graceless overall,still him on his lap with firm sweaty hands as he kneaded into his soft flesh,as he sank himself deep into him, into his core, into his welcoming heat.

The desperatenoises he would make with each thrust --

The more Legasovwas unaware of Boris’ attention the more his freckled skin seemed to beinviting his reverie. It was uneven, full of scars, pockmarked – maybe anillness when he was a child, maybe badly treated acne. Neglect. Shame. Name-calling. All thethings Boris would gladly protect him from if he could, if he was there whenValery was still a boy.

But he wasn’ta boy, not anymore. Legasov’s prominent decisive jaw was a fine contrast to hisfragility and his childlike dimples were hinting at the generosity of a rare smile,a gift reserved for the select few perhaps, for better, sunnier days. Boriswished the conditions of their work had been more forgiving and found himself longingfor that smile, imagining the thin lips curving upwards, the dimples deepeningwith happiness – because of him.

Oh what asight that would be.

Boris musthave had a funny dreamy look on his face when Valery looked up from his notesand glanced back at him, blinking. It was too late to avert his gaze so he justkept staring at the scientist, hoping his happy filthy thoughts hadn’t reachedhis lips. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look anywhere else but straight ahead of him,didn’t stop peering at the man across the trailer in the olive overall.

Normally oneof them would have to say something, start a conversation, break the ice. HoweverValery didn’t speak, didn’t smile.

Valery neversmiled.

It took Borisa few seconds to realize he had to smile for both of them.

So he did.

Valery’s panickedeyes shifted around the room, his mouth gaping slightly in shock and embarrassment.He looked down, seeking refuge in his notes.

Boris’ liptwitched into a satisfied smirk as he watched the esteemed First Deputy Directorof the Kurchatov Institude blush like a bride.

I wonderif he’s ever had a man before. If anyone had him. If anyone tossed him over adesk and roughly, sweetly fucked into him, jealous of his grades and hisvirginity.

How unfair tothe world and to the scientist before him, but how fortunate for Boris ifValery was still a virgin.

Look at himnow, hiding behind his notes like a schoolgirl.

Legasovcleared his throat as he bent over his nervous hands and the abandoned ashtraybetween them to the point where Boris could only see the top of his head.

Perhaps a redflush was already creeping up Valery’s neck, spreading all over his cheeks.

But Boriscouldn’t tell.

#chernobyl #fanficiton #chernobyl fanfiction #hbo #valery legasov #boris shcherbina #valoris #ao3 #ignorant hard-working bastard #fluff #pining

80 notes · View notes

juliussneezerfics · 5 years ago

Text

Blood Red Lilies and Baby Blue Cornflowers: Chapter 1 - Lilies

Germany has caught hanahaki. As he comes to terms with this, he loses a war, is separated from his brother, and learns about his fellow nations.

THIS IS NEW CONTENT. THERE IS MORE WRITTEN THAN WHAT WAS IN THE SNEAK PEEK.

Ao3

****

Germany sat in his tent, his stare icy as he read the headline in the paper. He was seated at his desk, the surface of the wood littered with assorted pieces of paper, maps, reports, expenses. Death tallies. He noiselessly set the paper down onto the desk, folding his hands and staring ahead. Thinking. He supposed he couldn’t blame him. Who could? They were living in a personal hell. They were doomed to lose. So why did his heart ache with something akin to… betrayal?

He didn’t even look at the flap of the tent as it opened. In his periphery, he caught the olive green of a German uniform.

“What?” He asked.

“You know I don’t speak German.” Said a familiar, light voice.

Germany’s heart dropped in his chest. He whipped his gaze onto the person who entered his tent.

Italy looked unusual out of his trademark blue uniform. He was donned in a German military coat that was clearly too big for him. On his head was a hat similar to Germany’s own. Italy’s curl had been smoothed beneath the cap. His face was heavy with what could have been regret, fear, or a mix of the two.

Germany stood from his seat at the desk. “Italy.”

“Germany.” Italy returned, his voice remarkably level with apprehension.

The two paused, both of their minds running far too quickly to work properly.

“Did you read the news?” Italy asked.

Wordlessly, Germany nodded.

Italy paused, scanning Germany’s expressionless face. “Germany-”

“You need to leave.” Germany interrupted, his voice a low grunt. “You’re an enemy. If you stay, I’m going to catch you.”

Italy stared at him, his face unchanging. He wordlessly strode up to Germany. He slowly drew closer until there was only a couple feet between them. “No, you won’t.”

Germany stared down at Italy. Into his determined brown eyes. It was an expression that he had seen increasingly during the war, but one he had still not grown accustomed to. He felt his heart clench painfully as he turned away, sitting behind his desk. He didn’t know why he felt the need to separate him and Italy.

“Germany, you can do it too.” Italy said, walking over to the desk. “You can leave this. Come with me. We can find Japan and convince him to do it too!”

Germany shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can!” Italy’s face was marred with an insistent frown. He planted his hands on the surface of Germany’s desk. “You can surrender. It’s hopeless, Germany. Your boss is dead. Your people are dying.”

Germany grit his teeth. “I am aware,” he finally looked up at Italy. “That my people are dying!”

The two countries stared at each other. Italy’s stubborn, sorrowful eyes met Germany’s desperate blue ones.

Italy’s eyes welled with barely-suppressed tears. “Then just run away with me. I know you’re always telling me not to, Germany, but… I think that for once, the brave thing to do is run.”

Germany’s glare fell away. “I can’t. I can’t betray my country like that.”

“Germany, you could die!” A tear escaped Italy’s eye and traced a salty path down his cheek. “Please, I can’t lose you too. I can’t lose Japan. Not after Grandpa Rome and Romano, and…” He removed his hands from the desk, instead using them to wipe away his tears. “I can’t lose you too. You guys are all I have left!”

Germany was at a loss. He knew the risk. But he couldn’t betray his country. He couldn’t surrender until his government decided he could. “You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

Germany nodded. “I know.”

The two looked at each other again. Their minds both whirred with things they could say. Things they wished they could say. Things that they knew were useless to the situation, but so important to the other.

Germany stood from his desk, sighing. “You need to leave. I get a lot of foot traffic in my tent. If someone comes in and sees you… escape out the back of my tent. Escape through the tent city. At all costs, avoid the trenches. There’s a military car dispatching for supplies in an hour. If you make it there, you are guaranteed a safe exit.”

More tears escaped Italy’s eyes as he lurched forward, his arms wrapping around Germany’s waist as he tucked his head under Germany’s chin. “It’s not too late to come with me. You can still get out safely.”

Germany allowed himself the rare luxury of returning the hug, his throat feeling tight as he felt Italy’s hands curl around the back of his uniform. “I know.”

Italy tightened his grip momentarily before he suddenly let go, turning without a word and pushing the flap of the tent open. He dropped it behind him, not looking back as he left Germany behind.

Germany stared at the flap of the tent, wishing more than anything else that he could follow Italy out of that godforsaken camp. That he could follow him into a future like their past. One of naps taken beneath shade trees after a day of hard training. Of Christmases spent together. Of Italy dragging him and Japan out of the tent, insistent on stargazing. He wished that he could follow Italy on whatever crazy adventures he dragged them on next. He was suddenly seized with a choking sensation. He planted a hand on his desk to keep him upright.

His throat burned as he coughed, hacking harder than what felt normal for a customary cold or sickness. His throat was almost completely blocked with something as Germany coughed and coughed. At last, it was unstuck. Whatever it was, it was stuck to his tongue. His nose wrinkling in disgust, he spit it into his hand. Germany frowned. Whatever it was, it was furled and covered in spit. He gently smoothed it out, his face turning stark white. There in his hand was a single, clean lily petal.

Newspapers all over the world were proclaiming the news: Germany had finally surrendered to the allied powers. It waved that white flag, its tail between its legs as the country accepted its defeat. However, the world was not in the clear yet. The nation of Japan had not yet surrendered. Indeed, they continued to fight a predetermined battle against the allied powers as it was slowly backed into a corner. According to the entire world, it was only a matter of time before Japan would have to submit to the good guys and end the war.

Germany sat in the back seat of a car, his brother sitting next to him. Germany stared ahead at the back of America’s chair. Russia was in the passenger’s side, no one in the car attempting to break the thick, hostile atmosphere. Germany glanced out of his periphery. Prussia was sitting with his back ramrod straight, staring ahead evenly. Germany wondered if Prussia was feeling as calm as he looked. He had always been the braver of the two. Germany did not feel brave at all… he hadn’t for a long time. Coughing up that lily petal seemed to turn his world upside down. Thinking logically, he knew it meant that he was… in love with Italy. But, he realized with a pang, it also means that those feelings went unrequited.

Most importantly, though, he knew he was going to die. It was a fact that he had wrestled with almost constantly since he had coughed up that damn petal. But he cycled through the options on a nonstop loop, only to turn them all away for one reason or another. Normally on this car ride he would have been pondering on what would happen next. What punishment would be dished to him in repercussion. But now, with the knowledge that he was a dead man walking, he knew death was futile. He was unafraid of the two men sitting in front of him. What he was afraid of was already inside his body, slowly killing him. So instead of worrying for himself, he spent his energy worrying for others. He worried for Prussia, sitting next to him. He worried for Japan, currently fighting the war for some reason Germany couldn’t decipher. But most of all, he worried about Italy. When he had surrendered, Germany had gotten no word on what happened to him. This was also a thought that permeated his brain and kept him from sleeping at night.

They approached the White House, Germany steeling himself for what happened next. He was prepared for death. But pain? That was another story. They parked in front of the building, America turning with a glare.

“We’re going to get out of the car and get you guys. Don’t try anything funny. Got it?”

Germany nodded. Like he would anyway. He had run-ins with America, of course. From what he had seen, America was a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. It was strange to see him so muted and hostile. He remained silent as America and Russia left their seats, and he remained still as the door to the back of the car opened.

Russia was standing there, waiting as Prussia unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. Immediately, Russia reached out and took hold of his arm, his magic metal pipe of pain aimed at the back of Prussia’s head. The two stepped out of the way as America took Russia’s place.

America pulled his pistol out of his back pocket, pointing it at Germany. “Come quietly and you won’t have to worry about this.”

Wordlessly, Germany scooted over to the door and stood out of the car.

“Both hands behind your back.”

Germany complied, America reaching over and grabbing his wrists with one hand. With the other, he pressed his pistol against Germany’s temple.

At the steps of the white house were protesters, all carrying signs and shouting at Germany. Insults. Terrible, terrible things. Reminders of all the awful things he had done. Germany didn’t mind them. These people were hurt. Besides, this was no worse than the stuff he told himself every single day. The bodyguards kept the people at bay, following them up the stairs and into the white house. They went through the various halls of the building, their footsteps echoing as they ignored the mutters of passerby. Germany and Prussia were steered past two wooden double doors into what looked like a medium sized conference room.

France, England, Russia, and China were muttering to each other in a small group. Standing several feet away and looking rather uncomfortable, Canada listened. Leaning against the wall, watching everyone with a wary scowl, was Romano. As they entered the room, the mutterings stopped. Everyone except Romano turned their eyes upon them as they were escorted to a wooden chair. Germany and Prussia sat down wordlessly.

“Hands behind the back of the chair.” America ordered, not lowering his pistol.

Germany put his hands behind his back, ignoring the wary stares of everyone around them.

England came forward and tied his wrists together.

Germany cast his eyes over to his brother, France tying Prussia’s wrists behind him.

France said nothing, but put a hand on his friends’ shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Prussia’s stony-faced composure fell into an almost imperceptible frown.

America finally lowered his pistol, sticking it into his back pocket as Russia stowed his magic metal pipe of pain in his trench coat. “So. Here you are.”

Germany said nothing, making steely eye contact with him.

“I wish I could say sorry about your boss, but I’m kinda’ glad the bastard finally died.”

Germany agreed, but he still stayed silent.

“Easy, America.” Canada chided as he stepped forward. He looked between the two brothers. “Look, we know you two didn’t want to do what we did. While some of us,” here he glared as America. “Think you should be punished severely, we’ve come to a… compromise of sorts.”

“Of course,” China began. “This compromise can be changed depending on you two.”

Prussia raised a single eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“All we want is information.” France answered. “Prussia, you can make this a lot easier on yourself.”

“So your grace can be bought.” Germany summarized.

England nodded. “Exactly. So we just want you to tell us where Japan is. He still hasn’t given up. His defeat is inevitable, but it would save us a lot of manpower and money if you just tell us.”

“We don’t know anything.” Prussia said. “We have no idea.”

“I don’t think you heard me.” England’s voice was suddenly steely. Almost emotionless. He surged forward, seizing the back of Prussia’s chair and tilting it onto its back legs. He leaned forward. “Where is Japan?!” He roared.

Prussia’s composure never faltered. Perhaps he, like Germany, knew that this was just a bad cop act. “You tilting my chair back doesn’t affect what I know. I still know nothing.”

“Hmm.” England glanced behind him. “Russia.”

Russia paced over to Germany’s chair, withdrawing his metal pipe of pain. His childlike grin never left his face.

Germany knew he shouldn’t be nervous. It was just a scare tactic. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel threatened by the man beside him.

“Want to try that again?” England asked.

Prussia raised an eyebrow, looking determinedly unimpressed.

“Fine.”

Russia wordlessly lifted his pipe to Germany’s temple.

Germany’s heart began racing. What if this wasn’t just a scare tactic? What if this was a very real threat? He knew he would come back to life, of course. But whatever Russia was going to do was guaranteed to hurt. And a shattered skull would mean months spent barely conscious, in immense pain. The medicine they had at the time was insufficient for that degree of injury. Of pain. It was a torture he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“I don’t know anything.” Prussia spat, unprompted. His composure fell away to barely-suppressed fear.

Russia raised his pipe, ready to swing. “You sure?”

“I don’t know!” Prussia tried, his voice harried with panic. “I swear to God, I don’t know! Do anything you want to me, just don’t hurt him!”

England hummed. “He doesn’t know anything.” He backed away and lowered the front legs of Prussia’s chair back to the ground. “Stand down, Russia.”

Russia had already stowed his pipe away. He stretched out an arm to pat Germany’s head. “I was not going to hurt you. It was just supposed to be intimidating you.”

Germany jerked his head away from the cold touch, his chest heaving with residual adrenaline. His fast breathing caused him to cough. It seemed he was feeling more and more congested as the days passed.

“What the fuck was that?!” Prussia barked, his composure gone.

“We were not going to hurt him.” China explained. “It was just to get information.”

Leaning against the wall still, Romano scoffed. Germany was unsure if this was out of doubt or relief.

“And our punishments are still severe, I assume?” Prussia leaned back in his chair, glaring up at the allies.

Canada shook his head. “They’re not… that bad. All members of the Axis powers will pay steep fines for the damage you caused, of course. Germany, you’ll bounce between America, England, and France’s house for the next decade. You’ll spend a year at a house before you move to the next. It’s just for surveillance. You understand. You have a packing limit of one suitcase and you cannot bring your dogs. There will be no leaving the house except for business. No visits from friends.”

Germany nodded. That was more than fair. A decade was a long time, but he would survive. It was just house arrest. “Who will take care of my dogs?”

“I will.” Canada answered. “They’ll do well with Kumajiro, I think.”

“As for Prussia,” America broke in, his glare steely. “His land will be given to Russia and Poland. Since most of it is going to Russia, you’ll stay at his house for the next decade.”

Prussia’s face went slack. “Y- you can’t do that.”

“Why not? You broke the world into pieces. It’s just justice.” America responded. His voice was level and cold.

Canada glared at his brother. “Hey, easy there.”

Germany could feel his face draining of blood. Prussia was already weak. A blow this large would perhaps have massive, even irreversible consequences. “He could die!” He coughed after saying this.

China shook his head, though he looked uncomfortable. “That is not true. After many years of being divided and put together again, as long as you interact frequently with your people, you will survive for many years. It will hurt, but you will survive.”

Prussia looked dazed, but he nodded.

Germany looked over to his brother. He had gotten the short end of the stick. Sure, he would be okay. But the fact of the matter is that getting land taken away from you even the slightest bit felt like torture. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have all of your land broken at and divided.

“Don’t feel bad.” Russia consoled, smiling comfortingly. “Compared to the punishment Italy got, this is small pain.”

“What?” Germany looked up. “What did you do to him? Where is he?!”

France looked pained. “We put a cap on his military power. He can only have a limited number of soldiers and weaponry. Forever.”

Germany glanced disbelievingly at Romano. Italy was already so weak. With this cap, he could be taken down easily. And with all that he had done with his fellow axis, there would likely be other nations seeking revenge. Italy’s death was damn near inevitable. “Even after South Italy went to your side?!”

“Hey, Romano saved Italy’s ass.” America barked. “If it weren’t for him, he would be off way worse.”

“You can’t do this! He can’t defend himself! He-” Germany’s sentence was cut off as his air passageway was partially blocked. He coughed harshly, the hacking noises drowning out the conversation that had started around him. Questions of if Germany’s country was already suffering harshly because of his punishment, if they should call a doctor, or if anyone knew the Heimlich. He knew why he was coughing so badly. He just didn’t know why it had to be now, in front of everyone. One last, giant cough. He knew what had landed in his lap, but he just kept his eyes trained on the floor. Laying in his lap were three, pristine white petals.

A piercing silence, louder even than Germany’s coughing, permeated the room. Seeped into everyone’s very bones.

“Oh, Germany…” France gasped, holding his hands up to his mouth.

Romano pushed through. His glare loosened. “Lily petals. That’s my national flower.” He looked up to Germany. “My brother…?”

Germany turned his head away, ashamed.

“Holy shit.” Romano turned around, his palm coming up to his forehead as he gave way to the other nations.

“Germany?”

Germany was unable to stand the sound of Prussia’s voice. It was so fragile. Far too quiet. He pretended he hadn’t heard it.

“My God.” England stared at Germany. “You’re in love with Italy.”

Canada pushed through the crowd. “Hey.” He bent over and pulled the petals off of Germany’s lap. He lay a comforting hand on Germany’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter who it’s for. That’s none of our business. The only thing that matters is where we go from here and what will happen next. The fact of the matter is…” Canada looked down, his voice heavy with pity. “Germany is going to die.”

Germany willed himself not to flinch. He had told himself this more times than he could count. But somehow, hearing it out loud made it seem like an unavoidable fact.

“No he’s not.” Prussia’s voice was hard with determination. “Because we’re going to get him the surgery. Obviously.”

“Like hell we are.” Romano protested, glaring down at Prussia. “That would break my brother.”

“Well what would break him more? Your brother’s feelings, or my brother losing his fucking life?” Prussia snapped.

“Hey, easy.” Canada came up behind the two, holding them arm’s distance apart. “We can come up with a solution to make everyone happy.”

“Has a nation ever died of hanahaki disease?” France asked.

“Not in my memory.” China answered. He looked unsure.

“Well I feel like he would come back to life, right?” In the face of a new problem, America’s aggression seemed to have gone down. “He is a nation, after all. He would need to come back to represent the people of Germany.”

“But let us not forget,” Russia reminded amiably. “Prussia would come to represent the country in the event Germany died… right?”

“Well maybe.” America shrugged.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” England protested.

“Isn’t it?” Romano grunted. “After Grandpa Rome died, Italy and I got a lot of his land.”

“Well this conversation doesn’t matter, regardless.” Prussia declared. “Because Germany will get the surgery.”

“No.” Germany said. He felt everyone’s eyes on him. He finally looked up. “Let’s review the facts. I am a nation. Nations have died many times in battle. Whether it was from a sword, a bullet, or a bomb, they came back. Surely suffocation is no different. Second, relationships between the nations are already tense as it is. If I did get the surgery and have all my memories of Italy taken away, it would only make things more difficult. Third, even for normal procedures surgeries are risky. Very few hanahaki patients live through the procedure. Though I could survive many other blows, hanahaki surgery on a nation has never been done before. We have no information on it. It is not a risk I am willing to take.” He stated this matter-of-factly. Like his life wasn’t on the line. He needed to distance himself logically. Not allow emotions to impact how he thought of this issue. Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already decided this before entering the room.

“Germany,” Prussia began, his voice quiet. “You realize what you’re deciding here, right? The pain… it’ll be unbearable.”

“I don’t see much of a choice, do you?” Germany asked levelly. “Besides. Maybe after I die the first time it will be gone.”

“If we tell Italy that you have hanahaki, then Italy will want to do everything he can to stop it. That includes falling in love with you.” Prussia decided. “There’s your choice.”

“It is not that easy, Prussia.” France sadly shook his head. “Love can never be chosen. It can’t be manufactured. For it to be real love, it has to be true, unselfish affection. The willingness to do anything for them. Only then is it complete, genuine love.”

“But he would put in effort after knowing.” Russia pointed out. “It would end the suffering faster. Yes?”

America nodded in agreement. “Yeah. And if they clear the air between each other, everything will just be easier. Everything having to do with the hanahaki among other things. Like damage control and everything that comes after this.”

China nodded. “That is true. Plus, there are a couple of experimental medicines and procedures we have back at my-“

“-No.” Germany interrupted.

“Those reasons do make sense, I suppose.” England said. “Then let’s just tell him.”

“No.” Germany protested.

“It is as I said.” France interrupted. “If little Italy knows that Germany is in love with him and that he has hanahaki, that puts too much pressure on him to truly fall in love. He could try, but it really wouldn’t do anything.”

Romano nodded, leaning against the wall. “My idiot brother is too emotional for his own good. He would cry for days. And knowing him, he would try to fall in love with Germany. It wouldn’t work under all that pressure.” He jerked his head to Germany. “In the end, it’s his decision. They’re his damned feelings. You all would do well to remember that. His freedom is already being taken away. You bastards can’t take his emotional freedom away from him too. It’s fucking inhumane.”

Germany looked up at Romano. Of all the people in this room, he would expect Romano to be the last one to come to his defense.

Romano did not catch Germany’s eye, sending a level glare to the allies. “That’s all I have to say about it.”

Canada nodded. “Alright.” He turned to Germany. “It’s all up to you. You don’t have to come to a decision in front of us.”

“Now that you know your punishments, this meeting is adjourned-” America began.

“Wait.” Germany interrupted. “Please. Where is Italy? Where are you keeping him?”

Romano regarded Germany with a strange expression. “He is staying at my house until further notice. We cannot trust him on his own.”

Germany nodded.

“Right.” England said, trying to replace the tense atmosphere with productivity. “Prussia, you will go with Russia. Germany, you’ll start out with France. Separation from your brother is part of your punishment.”

Germany’s heart dropped in his chest. He had already heard the terms of their punishment, but it was still another tough blow. He blew out a sigh. Who knew what would happen in that decade? Germany was almost certain that he would die. He could potentially come to life, though. But what about Prussia? Would he die? Would Germany be left alone to take on this world alone? Would he learn of this death through a letter while staying at a house that wasn’t even his own? Against his fears, he nodded.

“Meeting adjourned.”

“France.” Prussia said as France untied his wrists. “Can I have some time alone with my brother, please? Even for a minute. I just have to say goodbye.”

“Absolutely not.” England denied. “We’re running on a tight schedule. Besides, your punishment has officially started. This would violate the terms.”

France untied Prussia, rounding the chair to grab onto England’s arm. “Anglettere, please. Prussia is losing his brother. Surely you understand.”

England looked over at America, who didn’t notice as he argued with Canada about something under his breath. England sighed heavily. “You have two minutes. Don’t waste them.”

Germany jerked his fists in front of him after Russia untied him. “Thank you, Britain.”

England set his watch as the allies filed out of the room. “Your two minutes start now. Security is outside the door if you try to escape.” With a final glance, he turned and shut the door behind him.

Before Germany could tear his gaze away from the door, Prussia came over and grabbed his shoulders. “Ludwig, why didn’t you tell me you had hanahaki?”

“It didn’t matter.” Germany muttered, avoiding his brother’s piercing gaze.

“It matters to me. You’re my brother.”

Germany finally looked up. “Well what could we have done anyway? We just had an entire conversation about our limited options. Besides, you have bigger concerns. You’re staying with Russia for a decade.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Prussia’s already pallid face turned paler as he said this. “It’s only a decade with Russia. I’ve fared worse.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Just do what he says and swallow your damned pride.” Germany ordered.

Prussia shook his head. “You know me, West. I don’t follow directions very well.”

“Quit screwing around!” Germany snapped. “I’m being completely serious. Russia’s a maniac.”

“You’re giving him too much credit.” Prussia responded coolly. “He’s no psychopath. He just doesn’t get people.”

Germany’s brow furrowed. “Just… be careful. Don’t test him.”

“I won’t.” Prussia said. “And you… God, what do I even say?”

“Don’t get hanahaki?” Germany asked.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Prussia snapped. “Just be careful.”

Germany had no idea of what he could possibly be careful of. He didn’t know if Prussia knew either. “I will.”

Prussia pulled Germany into his chest in a hug, grasping the back of his uniform in clenched fists. Germany returned it, knowing he had to treasure these last moments before they were ripped away from each other.

Hearing the door open, Germany reluctantly pulled away from his brother.

“Your time is up.” England said, standing in the doorway. His expression was carefully guarded. Determinedly expressionless.

Prussia nodded, taking a deep breath and leading the way to the future.

****

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spiritsdw · 5 years ago

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{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple,

I trust you are well. It has been three weeks since we have left Yielden, which might not seem that long unless you are like me and prone to dramatics when separated from loved ones. Perhaps it seems longer when I say “It has been a whole month since I have seen you last”.

Your birthday is in two weeks as of the writing of this letter, but the spirits of the air only know how long it will be before it is in your hands. So I suppose a ‘happy birthday’ is in order, my lord, and I hope this letter brings you some cheer after the fact because I know getting yet another year older is a tremendous burden, and I cannot even begin to imagine what forty-four years of age must be like. Soon you will have wrinkles and grey hair and then all your charm will have to rest in your wit instead of your looks. Do not fear, though, I shall love you just the same despite all that. I am terribly sorry that I have to miss this birthday, but I plan on being home for forty-five, which is a far more stable number anyway.

Speaking of birthdays, Rhea quite was inconsolable that we could not celebrate hers properly. A fact she told only to me and no one else on the crew, so I have a feeling that, while she is prone to dramatics, they are not quite up to my same level. We do not make much of birthdays here on the ship, through no choice of my own, but a general consensus of sorts. Still, it is nice to spend time with friends and family on these days.

It has been largely quiet, which is generally my report at this point in our adventure. We spend most of this time in Albian territory, or at least that which we share with Ui Braesail, and their staunch neutrality has never once wavered. A fact which I am reminded of time and again as I sail this path. The hiccup, however, occurred in the form of a flock of hippogriffs which approached us two nights ago as we passed over the Gwealian border.

I wouldn’t quite say that they attacked us, though there was a degree of cosmetic damage to the ship that is easily enough repaired. No one was injured, not even one of the hippogriffs (though I dare say if we had managed to hit one, there would be a lot more than cosmetic damage to the Titan because the creatures would have responded with all due force that they could have mustered). I was asked after their migration patterns, which I admit to not knowing much about, but did know that they typically would not have wandered so far from the cliffs where they make their homes unless there seemed to be an issue.

Natalya and Adi both insisted upon checking it out, and I am loathe of the idea of passing any sort of possible situation so close to the Albian border. So we turned the Titan around and headed back to a cove very near the border itself. Arculf has taken Adi, Pasha, and Ulutka to investigate. As of the time of writing this, they are currently on the top of the cliff itself, having faced down unnatural fog and a rockslide to climb up it. What’s more, it appears that a small caravan has set up camp at the top of the cliffs. They do not seem to know about the hippogriffs in question, according to Pasha’s report, and suggest that it is possibly just a natural disturbance for another nest further up the coast into Gwaelian territory.

Now, you might be putting together some clues and asking yourself, Why, I wonder how it is that Ean has received this information from his crew while they are currently on top of a cliff investigating and he is holed up in his ship doing boring things like staring at maps. Well, I say to you, I am so very proud to announce that the stones have worked.

It has been nearly a year since I started the work on these stones. And Clarence, they work. No one has been able to use a pair of sending stones in ages, much less alone make them. It’s been a century since magic has been lost, and anything arcane is now a precious commodity. But I have finally completed a functioning pair and I could shout for joy if I did not think it would bring on too many unnecessary questions.

I entrusted Pasha with its twin when he left this morning, and I waited anxiously all day -- unable to see through the thick fog, listening to the sound of a rockslide, and wondering if I lost my first mate and three treasured members of my crew because I thought it prudent to investigate wildlife wandering a bit further out to sea than normal. I don’t know how I would have been able to live with myself if that was the case, and it was a stupid risk for a low reward, no matter my desire to investigate any possible ‘disturbance’. The relief I felt when Pasha called in was far greater than the joy I felt at knowing the stones worked.

After receiving his report, I sat down to write you this letter. And for a brief second, I wondered… if I couldn’t send you this stone. Books say that they could be used to transmit anywhere, but the enchantment is fickle. I do not think I could bear it if I left one with you and hoped to hear your voice, only to learn that the stone had left its communication range, or to not know if something had happened to the one I had left with you (or if something had happened to you).

Letters do not remove that anxiety any, but it removes the instant communication that, if not instant enough, causes worry. I have learned to deal with my worries when separated from you when I can only send letters and I can only receive news once we reach scheduled ports of call.

I long for the days when my greatest invention was simply a ruby that I could use to trigger a trap. But I am proud of my accomplishment, and I only wish that I could have finished it sooner so that I could test it and know if I could have given you one. It is a marvel it works at all, and yet still I am greedy for a better result.

Instead, however, I have moved on to my next project. I already know that I can create stones with various effects. A skill I have honed over thirty some-odd years. I am attempting, now, to work on other objects. I do not think I am skilled enough to turn a rag into a dagger -- I am not some skilled magician of old. But beyond effects like daylight and fire, I have been able to cause small things to happen. You remember the alarm that you accidentally set off when stepping into my workshop?

Yes, I know that you are still wondering how I did that, and now that I am far enough away that I can avoid being smacked by you for pulling this prank, I can admit that it was a trick of my own instead of a wire that you tripped or some other sort of trigger that you could have undone.

There are many small things that I am learning. And I wish to be able to create patches or stones that I can imbue with these new skills. They would do well in a pinch, not only for myself, but for others on my crew.

If, I suppose, I could ever tell them.

I do not think I am ready for that, just yet. Perhaps one day soon.

Or perhaps, I shall simply save it as a surprise and announce it before my retirement, and then simply fade into obscurity. That would be a great trick, I think.

I have gone on long enough, and there is not nearly enough to update you on. I mostly wanted to wish you a happy birthday, and to brag a little about my achievements. I know that, if you were here, the smile on your face would be enough to ease my troubled heart. (I know that, if you were here, my heart would not be so troubled, but it would be eased nonetheless and I would be able to kiss that smile.)

Give my regards to His and Her Majesty, and tell Noah to stop asking for my love when I send her letters, because I have none left to spare (respectfully, of course). Not when I give it all to you.

So saying: All my love, Ean

#mutiny confirmed #logs & letters #ch: ean de gillis

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fortunefavorstheway · 5 years ago

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Fortuna Chapters 1 & 2

AO3 link

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12k+

Din/OC

Din wakes up with a cold, he’s out of medicine, and the closest shops are sold out. He seeks out a blind healer living in the mountains and ends up getting more than he bargained for. Meanwhile, the Child makes absolutely sure the helmet stays on while Dad’s sleeping.

Long buildup of caretaking and fluff, ends with masturbation

When the Mandalorian woke up with a sore throat, his first instinct was to ignore it like always.

His developing paternal instincts swiftly squashed that first instinct. The sore throat did not go away after a meal and a couple of hours, so it wasn't fatigue. As he coughed from the growing itch in his throat and felt his face warm up, he knew that the first priority was to make sure the Child didn't catch anything, followed by getting well as soon as possible.

Din peered into the crate that currently served as the kid's cradle. Nestled among the blankets, he was still fast asleep, one hand outside the covers rising and falling on his chest as he breathed slowly and evenly. Smiling, he resisted the urge to get any closer in his present condition, and returned to the lower level. Opening his med-pack, he groaned when he saw the only medication available was a single dose of painkillers rattling around. He considered swallowing some bacta gel instead, but if there were unintended side effects there'd be no one left to take care of the kid. He wondered if he should save the painkillers for the kid, but dismissed it; it was too high of a dose of too strong a medicine for his ad'ika. He sighed and regretted it as it nearly became a cough. His carelessness had left his clan vulnerable to a simple cold, and he should've restocked sooner, but credits and discretion had both been scarce since they'd begun their journey to seek out the Jedi.

He tightened his fists with resolve, but weariness weighed down his limbs. He took the painkiller with water and then set about disinfecting everything on the ship, starting with his own clothes and armor. His limbs felt less tired as the painkiller did its work, but his skin was still warm with sweat. It only got worse as he slipped back into his clothes and armor, but if it meant the Child was safe from his sickness, he'd gladly endure the discomfort.

Weapons were last. He had finished disinfecting them and was about to begin regular maintenance when he heard the Child fussing. "Ad'ika," he croaked, hoarser than he anticipated. He grabbed some food and water and returned to the crate, where the Child was sitting up and holding his arms out, cooing with urgency. Din was more than happy to oblige.

"Ahh," the Child whined, pushing at the helmet. Ever since Din had made the adoption vow and revealed his face to the Child, the Child had grown used to him having his helmet off when they were alone.

"Not now ad'ika," Din said, sniffing as his nose stuffed up. "I'm sick and I don't want you to catch it."

The Child stopped pushing at the helmet, but didn't remove his hands entirely. His ears drooped in concern and he tilted his head before leaning against Din's chest. Something about Din's breathing must've been off, because the way the Child's brow furrowed was almost funny for how out of place it was on the face of a baby. The Child straightened and his ears perked as he held up his hands and reached towards his father.

"No!" Din said, startling the Child. "It's too much to ask for something as small as this." The Child's ears drooped once again and he pouted, eyes shining as he whimpered protests. Din sighed, and this time he couldn't stop it from turning into a cough. Once his body settled, he gently took the Child's hands in his own and then held him close as the Child had his breakfast. Once that was done, he continued to hold the Child close to him as he went up to the cockpit to navigate.

His throat wasn't as sore as earlier, so he felt comfortable talking to the Child as usual. "We're gonna need to re-stock on some medical supplies and refuel the ship. We're far from Imperial presence out here so we can go somewhere industrial, but even then, we'd better stick to somewhere that has a lower population density," he said, bringing up the map. The Child relaxed at this familiar routine, bouncing side to side in his embrace, and giving a small cheer as Din unscrewed the ball and handed it to him. He kept giving commentary as he went through each planet. "Too backwater, we won't be able to restock here... terrain is too dangerous and there's a strong criminal presence, so our ship would get scrapped immediately... this one would be perfect if we had enough fuel to get there..." On and on it went, and Din felt a steady fuzz taking over his brain. The next planet he checked, however, gave him pause. "Lisera." He selected it and read through the specs. "Mostly mountains, but they've got a small trade center in this valley that's away from any active volcanoes or earthquake zones," he leaned back into his chair and set the coordinates. "I'd say it's our best bet, what do you think ad'ika?"

"Eh!" the Child agreed.

-----

"I'm sorry, but we're out of medicine."

It was a mixed blessing that the cold and painkiller dulled his senses, or else Din might've done something truly regrettable right then and there. Instead, he said, "When will you restock?"

"I don't know. None of the other vendors have any stock either," the vendor forced a sympathetic smile. "You arrived at a bad time I'm afraid. A trade dispute higher up in this territory meant certain goods are a lot scarcer, and most of the residents here stocked up in case. Had you arrived one week earlier-"

"It's fine," Din said. It was something out of both of their controls, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. He'd hoped to get everything done in one stop, and the idea of having to spend more credits for fuel just to find medicine was making his stomach churn. At that, a coughing fit surged through him, and he struggled to keep his hold on the Child. The Child, in turn, drummed on his chest in a state of alarm, anxious to do something, anything that would help his father feel better.

The vendor winced at the Mandalorian's current state, then said, "If I may make a suggestion, Mandalorian," she turned her head towards the mountains. "There's a healer, Silla, who lives up in the mountains. She sometimes comes down here to sell some medicine and herbs, but in your circumstances it'd be faster to seek her out."

Din cleared his throat. "How much will it cost?"

The vendor frowned. "I've never been a patient of hers, but I've heard she's generous and willing to barter services. I will caution you however," she dropped her voice low, "I've also heard rumors that she has mystical powers. For a blind woman, even for a regular person, her diagnoses are inhumanly accurate, and they say similar things about how powerful the stuff she brews is."

Din considered this, his free hand cradling his child's head closer to his chest. If this woman was a sorceress, maybe he had a lead on finding the Child's kind. "Has anything bad ever happened to any of her patients?"

The vendor shook her head. "I've witnessed the occasional arguments when she comes down to trade, but otherwise no. It might just be that she's a stranger on this planet, and people talk." Sensing the Mandalorian's next question, the vendor said, "She arrived a few standard months ago on a cargo ship and almost immediately went for the mountains."

A freelancer who likely wanted to stay hidden. Din would have to be on his guard. "Thank you. Where in the mountains does she live?"

"Follow the path and you'll eventually find her. You'll know you're getting close from the smell," the vendor said. "A piece of advice: Under no circumstances are you to stray from the marked path, unless you want to be eaten, lost, or crushed." The vendor glanced up at the sky, where the sun was high enough to cast short shadows on the ground. "If you start now, you should be able to find her before nightfall."

Din nodded his thanks, and turned to start his way up the mountain.

-----

It was only until the town was out of sight that Din felt the painkiller begin to wear off. He wasn't aware of any pain or discomfort while he was moving, but the moment he stopped to catch his breath, fatigue seized his body and the sweat soaking his clothes felt heavier than his armor. He wished he could set his child down to give his arm a rest, but if they were this far and he still hadn't found the healer, then he couldn't afford to walk any slower. He switched which arm was holding whenever he began to feel tired, but the frequency of his switches was increasing. The Child, normally so curious about every new sight, was unusually subdued, as if sensing his father's distress. Every once in a while Din caught his child raising his hands, only to gently grasp and lightly squeeze them in his own in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

His throat felt parched and hot, but when he took a sip from his canteen he coughed at how scratchy it felt. How bad was it that it would hurt to drink plain water? The Child reached for the canteen, and Din almost gave it to him on reflex before he stopped. He needed to disinfect it first, and he fumbled around his pockets for where he would keep the alcohol wipes, only to come up empty. He wanted to grind his teeth at how stupidly unprepared he was, but that would only worsen his headache. The Child whimpered and a faint rumble came from his belly, so Din put his canteen back and grabbed the bottle of ration bar mush he prepared when they both had to be away from the ship. The Child wrinkled his nose at the familiar smell, but Din didn't have the energy to argue, simply pushing the tip of the bottle at his child's mouth until the infant's hunger won out and he began drinking from the bottle.

The sun was still up, but much closer to the horizon than when Din had first started. He stared at the railings on the mountain path above him, tempted to scale them to save time, but aside from the vendor's stern warning and the wire nets that held back rocks, there was no way he could do it with in his sweating, aching condition. His limbs were burning as he kept climbing and climbing but he still couldn't see any signs of the healer. The vendor had said he'd smell it when he was near, but as the snot dripping from his nose was making that difficult. Every drop that slid down his upper lip seemed to replace his fatigue with sheer rage and frustration, but all he could do was keep climbing, even as the inside of his helmet smelled more and more like raw bantha meat. The child soon fell asleep, and was wrapped in a makeshift carrier from Din's cape.

Din wanted to feel relieved as the sun began to set and the air cooled, but once it was too dark, Din would need to make camp for the night and delay medical treatment, and being exposed to the elements, even in his armor, wouldn't help any. The Child stirred and shivered but didn't wake, and Din found the resolve to walk still a few more steps. How could he protect his son if he was sick like this?

The sun was touching the horizon when Din smelled it, even through the congestion. It was a spicy smell that reminded him of the food the tribe served, and his nose itched at its presence. He picked up the pace and Din could've cried when he saw a light in the distance. Energy rushing to his limbs with the knowledge that his destination was in sight, he found himself in a flat clearing where the healer had set up camp. Past a single light where the path first entered the clearing, there was a large tent. Next to it there was a low line with clothes and a high line with plants, fish, and meat hung to dry. The fireplace wasn't going right now, but a black kettle hung over it.

His body was begging for sleep now that Din had paused, but not yet. He went up to the tent and knocked on the front panel, but nobody answered. "Hello?" he called out in a cracked voice, hoping he was loud enough to be heard but not too loud to wake his child. Still no response. He stepped into the tent and his heart dropped upon seeing it empty. There were shelves of glass bottles and various instruments strewn about, but Din didn't have the energy to focus on those right now. Instead, his eyes turned to the bedding on the floor, and he felt himself floating towards it as he his strength dwindled to nothing. Even if the healer was out, having a comfortable place to sleep after such a long journey would do for the night.

This, of course, was the moment the Child chose to wake up, and Din sighed long and low when those adorable green ears perked up. The Child did not fuss or cry, but turned his head outwards and began reaching for something out there. At this, Din stilled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. We're being watched. Much as it ached to do so, he switched on the thermal tracking. There were no footprints in the tent except the ones he'd made, so he stepped outside. Scanning the ground, he still found nothing. As he remembered how Cara had jumped from above, he barely picked up the sound of wood creaking above the clearing. He whipped his head up towards and got his hand on his blaster, confirming a humanoid heat signature up in the trees. The tightening in his chest triggered another coughing fit, and with the sudden dizziness from his head movement Din struggled to keep his balance. The Child cried as he fell, though he managed to roll so his child did not get crushed underneath.

The figure climbed down from the trees, and after he switched off thermal vision he struggled to keep his eyes open as they approached. They were dressed in white robes and knelt before him. "Can you stand?" a soft, low voice asked. Another coughing fit and he strained to get his legs to straighten, but soon he was leaning on the healer as she led him back into the tent. He set his rifle to the side while she laid him on the bed and gently shushed the Child. "Your guardian needs rest. You can stay with him, but I'll need you to move." The Child barely paid attention to her, clinging to Din's chest with all his might, whimpering in distress.

As the darkness overtook his vision, Din murmured, "Helmet... stays on." Clutching his child's hands to his chest and weakly patting his back, Din's eyelids fell shut and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

-----

If this one insisted on keeping his helmet on, then he was more likely a true Mandalorian than a mercenary simply wearing the shell of one. Silla wondered if instead it might be an urgent need to keep a criminal identity secret, until she knelt down to pick the child off of his guardian and a pendant brushed against her gloved fingertips. The Child cried out and seized the pendant, putting it in their mouth while their other hand clung to his guardian's chest. "Ah, it's yours then." Holding out her hand, she asked, "May I hold it for a short while? I want to know it's shape." When the child's answering noise was full of caution, she added, "You can hold it, and I'll let it go after a few seconds. I can tell that it's important to you." She smiled warmly, and after a moment's hesitation, the child removed the pendant from their mouth and held it out to Silla. Brushing her fingertips on the metal, her smile broadened when she recognized the shape. "A mythosaur skull. So you are a Mandalorian too?" When the child cooed in the affirmative, she let go of the pendant and brushed a hand along their head, feeling the light hair on top of thick, but soft skin, with their ears being the softest of all. "I must say, you are the most adorable Mandalorian I've ever met." The child giggled as she stroked their ears, but soon became distressed again when she held their waist to lift them away from their father.

"Now now, I need to change his shirt for a dry one so he can sleep comfortably tonight," Silla said. The child's weak whine said that letting go was out of the question. "Why don't you sit where his helmet is? I'll be moving him around a lot, and it might come loose. Can you help me make sure it stays on?" She moved her hand to the bottom of the helmet as if to take it off, at which the child gave a high-pitched shriek and launched themself onto the helmet, growling as menacingly as he could but to Silla's ears sounding like a tookit. "That's a start. Can he breathe like that?" The child went silent, slid down so they were laying on the pillow and clinging to the side of the helmet, the sounds they made softer than the earlier growls, but that nonetheless told the healer that they were watching her. Silla smiled. "Wonderful. You're such a good child."

The cape, boots, gloves, and pauldrons were the easiest and removed first, and Silla smiled when she felt the raised sigil on the right pauldron. A mudhorn skull? The bandolier and cuirass would be a challenge. She had to dig for the straps both on his shoulders and sides, and to remove them completely, she had to lift his shoulders up while keeping his head and neck steady, no small feat even if the child weren't clinging to his helmet as if both their lives depended on it. She unzipped his armorweave jacket and pulled his arms out of it, and finally reached the damp undershirt. Silla wrinkled her nose at the scent of disinfectant mixed with musk, and remembered her sisters complaining about how dirty "boy clean" was. She managed to move his arms and get them out just as she'd done with the armorweave outer layer, but now she had to slip it over his helmet.

"Can you help me?" she asked the child, moving her hand to the side where they were holding on. The child made a chirp, then got up and shuffled to the top of the helmet, where a slight movement and light pressure told Silla that it would be safe to remove the shirt now. It was a struggle to stretch it over and Silla winced when she heard some threads snap, but they managed to get the undershirt off while keeping the helmet in place. Throughout all of this movement the patient didn't even stir, to both Silla's relief and alarm as she recognized the signs of acute fatigue. He must've been determined to make the climb from the town to her tent, and given how tightly his child clung to him, she had to admire his dedication.

"Good job, thank you," she told the child. The child replied with a happy coo and reached up for the undershirt. "Ah, no, this needs to be cleaned," Silla said, tossing the shirt into her laundry basket. "How about the cape your father carried you here with?" Placing the blanket over the Mandalorian and wrapping the child in his cape, the first order of business was checking her patient's vitals. His skin was cool and but the monitor read his temperature as high, so his fever hadn't broken yet, and the sweat was likely from his hike. Otherwise, his signs were within normal limits.

After she wiped down her monitor with disinfectant, Silla grabbed a clean, dry towel and uncovered her patient, gently patting away all the sweat. Now that he'd been stripped of his armor, it allowed her to take him in more clearly. Though people knew of her as the blind healer, that wasn't entirely accurate. She could no longer see the surface details like most others, but she could see the energy, the Force even, that pulsed throughout the universe. She could see the disruptions in people where their bodies held pain and tension, and she could see when their souls were red with malice, no matter how soft their spoken words tried to hide it. Experience had taught her that it was easier to explain her observations using her other refined senses, because if she told others about her special sight, they were more likely to pry into vulnerable areas.

When she had first heard the ship fly overhead, she had finished her chores as quickly as possible and then climbed to her tree stand to observe in case it was a brigand. She was relieved at first to see a weary grey soul wander into her camp, but the bundle he carried made her pause. She had seen children before, and no matter what the state of their souls were in, the colors were intense. Mostly white, but when a child had red in their souls, it was like a firework, as intense as it was impermanent. The intensity of the white in this child's soul, however, was brighter than she had ever seen in any living creature, and it made her cautious. White could mean innocence instead of goodness, and neither of those were the same as harmless, so it wasn't until the Mandalorian had fallen to his knees and she heard the child cry out for his father that she felt it safe to descend.

As she continued moving the towel over her patient, her eyes turned to the beacon of light wrapped up in his father's cape, their hold on the helmet more like a comfort-seeking embrace than a protective cling. Her patient's energy was muted, as expected of someone who was ill, but it was unmistakably white. Even when he had reached for his weapon, no red had tainted his soul, his faded energy instead surging with brightness for a brief moment. There were several disruptions that she noted now, injuries and aches that he'd likely powered through to keep providing for his son, not knowing that he was putting the both of them in long-term jeopardy. As she placed her gloved hand directly onto his skin, the extent of his injuries and neglect became clear, and that was just on his torso. Still, he had a solid foundation, a body that had been trained well and experienced a lot of combat. Perhaps with some persuasion, after he recovered from his illness he could do some maintenance. The Mandalorian groaned and Silla flinched, realizing she'd held her hand to his bare torso far longer than necessary She finished patting him dry and got up, throwing the towel into the basket to join his sweaty shirt, and got a cloth patient robe from her supplies. She slipped his arms through the sleeves, and finally, she covered him back up with the blanket.

"Child," she whispered, "I have another bed for you to sleep in." The child's soul flared with oncoming refusal, so she continued. "You might get sick if you sleep near your father tonight, and your father would be upset if that were to happen."

The child made a noise of reluctant understanding, and Silla wondered how old the child was for them to be so intelligent and yet so quiet. "If you stay healthy, it would make him happy, and he'll get better faster." She knelt down and patted an area a few feet from where the Mandalorian was sleeping. "It would be dangerous to sleep on top of him, but I can put a bed for you here so you can sleep close to him. What do you think?"

The child tilted their head in consideration of this offer, then let go of the helmet, giving it a solemn pat before waddling over to where Silla was kneeling. They opened their mouth to say something, only for their stomach to rumble. Whatever the child wanted to say turned into pained whimpers.

Silla smiled. "Of course I can make you dinner. Food is medicine too, you know."

-----

The sound of wind and the soft light through his helmet made Din momentarily panic when he woke up, but the smell of spice and cooking food brought back his memory of the day before. The fact that he could even smell at all through his helmet was a relief, though now he was stuck with one nostril that could breathe fine while the other one was completely blocked. He sat up and found his body feeling lighter, his skin no longer a steaming hot prison, and he briefly froze when he saw that his shirt had been changed for a robe that was open at the back. His helmet was still on, and the rest of his clothes and armor were placed neatly at the foot of his bed. And the kid? A basket sat near the pillow, and Din looked inside and found his child sleeping on top of a folded blanket, wrapped in his cape. He reached a hand out to stroke his head but stopped when he saw his bare hands. Not yet.

Now that he had the energy to keep his balance and his eyes open, he got a good look around the tent. Opposite of him and the kid was a hammock with a fur throw inside. Around the perimeter were bags filled with various plants likely harvested from the mountain. In the center of the tent was a firepit that had been dug into the ground, filled with sand, and lined with stone. A large steel pot was boiling above a steady fire, and smaller pots of clay and steel cooked on top of a grill over a separate fire in the corner of the pit. Around the pit was a dense woven wire barrier, and Din blinked. Had that been there yesterday?

At the wall farthest from the door was a hovercraft. Drawers and shelves folded out of it and on the shelves were various glass jars containing what looked like dried herbs, cooking spices, and other medicinal materials. A table was laid out on top of it all, cooking and medical utensils strewn about on faded white cloth. His lip quirked when he noticed a snake submerged in a dark liquid in one of the larger glass bottles. Would it catch the kid’s eye and stomach?

The crunch of footsteps on earth accompanied by the tock tock of a walking stick approached the tent and Silla stepped through the entrance carrying a few bags. She paused, her head first turning towards the Mandalorian, and then towards the basket. “Good morning,” she whispered.

The Mandalorian nodded, then he remembered. “Good morning,” he whispered back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said. “Lighter. I can breathe easier but-” As if on cue, his body was shaken with coughs, his ribs straining as he struggled to keep them quiet. His mouth and nose filled with phlegm, and he sucked swallowed it back in with a grimace.

Silla nodded. “I’m going to prepare breakfast and some other medicines. We can discuss further treatment and payment while you...” She paused, her mouth hanging open as she remembered. “You can eat while I take care of a few things around the campsite, and when you’re done, call for me and we’ll talk.”

“Okay.” With a nod, Silla set her bags down below her hammock and switched her leather gloves for rubber ones. She took some clean towels out of a basket and lifted the smaller pots from the fire pit, then returned to scoop some hot water from the large pot into a small saucepan. She brought everything over to her hovercraft workstation, and soon the tent was filled with the ambient sounds of cooking: pouring liquid, sliding drawers, the clink of metal against glass, and chopping.

While Silla focused on her work, Din’s eyes focused on her, gathering as much detail as he could now that his vision was no longer clouded by fever or fatigue. Loose-fitting pants were tucked into dark leather boots, and over that she wore a long tunic that was tied at waist and had a hood. Her hair was completely wrapped in a scarf that sat tight and high on her head, and a blindfold that covered her eyes and eyebrows tucked into the scarf. Except for the black blindfold, all of the cloth covering her body was light gray. It matched her pale skin, and it was here that Din drifted from observation to guesswork. She looked young, but the quiet confidence in her stance, the way she spoke, and the way she moved reminded him of someone closer to Omera’s age. Right now, he was most impressed with how quickly she chopped the vegetables and flung them into a pot with a flick of her knife. Soon, she was scooping the food into small bowls and laying out two trays, one for him and one for the Child. She brought both of them over to the bed, setting it down near the basket where the Child still slept, while she knelt on the floor.

“I advise you to finish as much as you can. You were suffering from acute fatigue when you collapsed here last night, and everything here is meant to restore your strength and clear your airways as much as possible,” she gestured to the tray. There was meat and vegetable stew that was red with spice, rice porridge, a mug of tea, and a spoonful of dark syrup. “The two things that are non-negotiable are the syrup and the tea. The syrup will taste awful, but it’ll expel the mucus in your lungs and help soothe your throat. That will make it easier to drink the tea, which has a medicine dissolved in it that should help you breathe through both nostrils again.” She brought out a box of tissues and a large metal thermos. “Here’s more water if you need it. What questions or concerns do you have?”

Din eyed the syrup dubiously, vague memories of his illnesses as a foundling and even vaguer memories of his illnesses as a youngling and of the bitter, sickly sweet medicines he had no choice but to take. Surely he could maintain a poker face now, but just to be sure, he asked, “You said they're going to clear my nose and throat?” Silla nodded in response. “How much coughing and sneezing will they trigger?”

The corner of Silla’s mouth quirked upward. “Even outside, I’m going to know if you don’t take the medicine as directed,” she said. She straightened, realizing his concern. “Your child has been sleeping soundly since I put him to bed last night. The tissues can help muffle your cough. That said, do you want me to move him to the other side of the tent so he can continue sleeping?”

Din sighed as he considered it. The viciously protective part of him did not want to be separated from his child more than necessary. The pragmatic part of him said that if the Child woke up while his helmet was off, there was no way he could hold and comfort the kid without potentially infecting him. “Other side of the tent, not under the hammock,” he said. “Just in case.”

If Silla was insulted by the implication, she didn’t show it, instead smiling as she turned to gently pick up the basket and slowly stood from her kneeling position. With steady, fluid steps she brought the basket where Din had requested. Reaching into her tunic, she brought out a metal ball the size of a fist, and Din stiffened as she set it near the child. Then he heard the turn of a mechanical key, and as a soft metallic tune played throughout the tent, his shoulders relaxed. Silla’s went back to her workstation, rummaged through the drawers, and brought a few towels and a spray bottle back to Din. “I imagine you’ll want to clean your helmet after all that it’s absorbed for the past half day or so. This disinfectant can also be used on your hands before you eat,” she set them down. “You can leave your trash on the tray. What else will you need?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Din said. “Thank you.”

Silla’s smile this time flashed a small bit of teeth, and he found himself weakly returning one of his own. “I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything,” she said. Once she ducked out of the tent, he checked to make sure the cover on his window was secure, and he waited until he heard the sound of carving wood to finally, finally take the helmet off.

Just being able to breathe in fresh air that wasn’t saturated with his own snot was clearing his head already, and first he sprayed as much disinfectant as he felt comfortable with inside his helmet on the more-than-off chance the unexpected happened. Setting it aside, he blew his nose and lightly coughed into a tissue to clear himself as much as possible for what was to come next. After spraying his hands, he picked up the large spoon with the syrup, grimacing at the sickly bittersweet smell of it as he brought it up to his mouth. Before he could psyche himself out any further, he stuck the whole thing in his mouth and swallowed. A burst of bitter cold hit Din’s chest and tongue as his face squashed painfully, and he managed to grab a tissue as a series of violent coughs burst out of his lungs. Over the rattling noise of his own body, he could’ve sworn he heard Silla murmur, “Ah, there it is” with an amused smile in her voice. Then, as the syrup aftertaste lingered on his tongue, he swallowed and found that the scratchiness was all gone. When he took an experimental breath in through his mouth, he found it didn’t trigger a cough either, not even an itch in his throat. Glancing over at the basket, he listened for any signs of the kid stirring, but after a minute of silence, Din sighed and got to work on the rest of his meal.

After the punch of the syrup, the tea was nothing. What bitterness the medicine had was blended with a spicy sweetness and a citrus flavor that reminded him of shig. Pouring himself more hot water, he dipped the syrup spoon into the mug to make sure he got all of it, then when he finished that cup he poured another one to wash out the aftertastel. The warmth traveled to his head and chest, and once the tingling hit his nose, he was a lot better prepared for the sneezes that followed. Afterwards, he was able to fully breathe through both nostrils, and with his renewed energy he found himself more ravenous than he expected. He tried to savor the porridge and the stew as the first non-ration meal he’d eaten in ages, but they quickly vanished from their bowls and he poured himself another cup of water to wash it all down.

The sigh Din released this time was one of satisfaction. He soaked one of the towels he’d been given in hot water, using it to scrub his teeth and his face. He was overdue for a shave, but that could wait until he got back to the ship. At the quiet he realized that the music box had stopped playing a while back, and he listened again for any signs that the kid was awake. Still silent.

Well, it was time for breakfast anyway, but before he could wake the kid, he needed to get dressed. Din gently nudged an arm out the tent window, making sure the flap stayed mostly shut. “Silla, could I have my shirt back?” he called out.

“Of course. One moment.” She went away from the tent and he heard the sound of rope twisting and the flutter of fabric, and then Silla came to the window and placed the shirt in his hand.

“Thank you.” It smelled fresh and he sighed at how cool it was when he slipped back on, but he didn’t linger on the feeling long as he closed his jacket and got his armor and boots on. After he got his gloves on, he gave his helmet one last wipedown with a damp, still hot towel. A deep breath, filling his clear airways with one last gulp of the mountain air, and Din slipped it back over his head.

He picked up the tray with the kid’s food and went over to the basket. The Child was stirring a bit, bunching up the cape in his hands and chewing on a corner, his eyes still closed as he made some soft smacking noises. Din smiled, reaching in running a finger gently over the kid’s forehead and cheeks, and at that, the Child woke up. “Ah,” he cooed, reaching up to be held, still clutching the cape in his hands. Din happily complied, and the Child patted his helmet and chest, as if sensing his renewed spirits.

“Yeah, I’m better now,” Din said. “Still gonna keep this on even when we’re alone just to be safe, okay?” The kid pouted a bit, but the sight and smell of breakfast brought back his good mood immediately. Din got a bit of porridge into the spoon, but the kid ignored it and grabbed the bowl, gulping it down. He made quick work of the stew too, and all Din had left to do was wipe at the kid’s chin to make sure his clothes didn’t get too dirty. “Slow down, or you’ll choke,” he said

To which his ad’ika only gave an indignant “Hrmph!” and tilted the bowl almost upside down to get the last few drops of stew. Another wet towel to wipe down the Child’s face and scrub his teeth, and Din called out to Silla that he was ready for her. He could’ve done so earlier, but he wanted to relish some quiet time with his child a bit more, and he dreaded what the cost of medical treatment including a night’s stay and breakfast would be.

“I heard your purse when I put you to bed last night, and I imagine you’re in financial straits at the moment,” Silla said, not unkindly. “In such cases, the payment I ask is that you help me make my rounds around the mountain this morning. If you wish to stay for lunch, you will accompany me into town while l take care of business there. If you wish to stay another night, I will lead you back up the mountain--I can do it even after sunset--and you will help me with anything that remains.”

Bartering services. Just as the vendor had said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Silla smiled, then continued, “I mentioned further treatment before breakfast. While your cold should definitely be gone by the end of the day, your body is under a great deal of stress. Without proper rest, you’ll continue to be vulnerable to illness and your recovery times will be longer than if you were healthy. When do you need to leave Lisera?”

Din wanted to say “after the morning rounds”, but he thought about it. He was unlikely to find room, board, and medical care for this kind of a bargain anywhere else that he could reach with his remaining fuel and credits he had left. There wasn’t any significant criminal activity that he’d observed, let alone Imperial presence, and since he kept the kid close to him, he’d be prepared for any rogue bounty hunters. For long term gain, he could afford to stay for a few days. He looked at Silla’s face, an enigmatic smile gracing her lips, and for a moment he felt a chill, as if she could see right through his helmet and into his mind. Was this why the others thought her a witch? He wanted to observe a while longer before he brought up the subject. No need for her to think his kid was anything but his kid.

As if sensing his thoughts, the kid wriggled out of his grasp, waddling towards the music box and giving it a light teething before holding it out to Silla. Her smile warmed as she wound it up again, and the Child squealed with delight before resuming his gnawing.

“Your child was such a good assistant, holding onto your helmet to make sure it didn’t come off last night,” Silla said. “You should feel proud.” The child stopped gnawing for a bit and glanced up at Din, ears perked.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, patting the kid’s head and earning a happy coo. “I’ll see how I feel after this morning.”

Silla nodded and then stood. “First order of business then,” she said. “Get some hot water from that big pot and clean these dishes.”

-----

The morning in the mountains felt as much like meditation as it did work. Din was reminded of those precious few weeks he’d spent on Sorgan as they hiked through the mountains, Silla bringing a wheeled cooler that had a tray on top for her to set some cloth bags. She wore her hood up to block the sun and had a multi-purpose shovel strapped to her back.

Silla had given him a bag padded with a small blanket so that he could carry the kid over his chest, but every time they stopped to forage for food the Child insisted on jumping out to help and explore. On one occasion Silla had stopped him from picking up a poisonous mushroom, and Din couldn’t help but ask, “How could you tell?”

Silla smiled. “I know where they grow,” she said, “and how they smell.” She then plucked a few blades of grass and folded them together to make throwing stars, and presented them to the child, tossing one in the air to demonstrate. The Child’s happy peals echoed throughout the mountain and it was all but impossible to get him back in the bag after that. He threw the stars on the path ahead and then dashed to retrieve them. Keeping up with the Child as he continued this cycle still let them make their way through the mountain at a steady pace.

After what happened with the mushrooms, however, Din picked up on something, and he walked closer to Silla to silently confirm it. Whenever she came to the next plant to harvest, he could see her turn her head first, then she would sniff to confirm her findings before she touched the plant. As they approached a riverbank, he could see some apples growing on the trees far overhead, and when he looked at her, he could see her craning her head as if to look at them too.

Once they were underneath one of the trees, Silla said, “I usually climb up there to harvest those, but I’ve already gotten the lower hanging ones and it’s becoming increasingly difficult.” She turned towards him. “Do you have anything with you that could get them down?”

Din shot his whipcord at one of the apples, only for it to go straight through, and the broken pieces fell to the ground with a soft splat. Silla smiled with a sigh. “Maybe that can make it easier for you to climb up there, but it’s not necessary.”

The Child had paused ahead on the trail, seeing that Dad and Soft One had stopped. Gathering his stars he shuffled back to where they were standing, and he looked up to see what they were looking at. Ah! He knew the round sweets that hung above them, and it sounded like Father and Soft One were confused about how to get them. He held his hands up, seeing where the sweets clung to the tree. To me! To me!

The branches above rustled and Silla’s mouth dropped as an apple fell, and she held out her hands to catch it. “That was… very lucky,” she said in a mystified voice. Turning towards the Child, she scooped him up in her arms. “Did you do this?” she asked, holding the apple to his mouth. The Child dropped the stars to grab the apple, then cried out for his fallen stars. Silla laughed and picked them up, tucking them into a fold in his hood. “Can you do that again?”

“I don’t think-” Din said, the Child held up a hand and this time an apple fell for his father to catch. It was one of the easiest things he’d ever done, since all he had to do was give a little twist and the fruit would fall on its own.

Din watched Silla closely for her reaction. Her smile looked genuine, but when she spoke next, her trembling voice betrayed her. “You really are such a precious one aren’t you?”

They were deep in the woods and likely had privacy, but Din did a quick scan of the area just in case. Once he confirmed they were alone, he said, “Silla, how much can you see with your eyes?”

She went still, then turned towards Din. “What do you mean?”

Din shared his observations with her, how her body language seemed to use sight first before her other senses, and how quickly she’d drawn the conclusion that it was the kid who’d made the apple fall. “I’ve never met a blind person who moves as you do,” he concluded.

“Hm. Makes me wonder how many blind people you’ve met,” Silla said, lightly bouncing the Child in her arms as the air grew tense. “I will say, you’ve made your observations a lot more politely than most.” She brought up her hand to run them across the black blindfold. “I don’t see in as much detail as most others,” she explained. “I mostly can see the shapes of things. As for how I concluded that your Child got that apple,” she took a deep breath and faced him, and he could see her internally calculating if it was worth the risk to tell him. Another deep breath breath, and she continued, “I can see the energy present in all living things, and sometimes in the non-living, though that’s more restricted. There are some who call this energy the Force.” She went on to list a few of the colors she could see and what they meant, and then she addressed the apple. “For a moment, the Force in the tree seemed to have sparked as a thread in a brilliant white like your Child’s tied itself to one of the apple stems. I couldn’t believe it, so I asked him to do it again, thinking I just imagined it. But that same thread and spark happened again, and this time I could see the way it came from his body.” She sighed, then smiled at the Child. “You, I must say, have the honors of being the most adorable Mandalorian and the most adorable Force-user I’ve ever met.” The Child’s ears wiggled at the praise.

“Can you teach him?” Din said with urgency. “I’ve been searching for a Jedi who can-”

“I’m no Jedi,” Silla interrupted, “and I’m afraid my use of the Force is limited.” She reached up to touch the blindfold again. “I wasn’t born this way, but after an… accident with a more powerful Force user, I wound up with this form of sight in exchange for the normal kind.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I cannot be the one to teach this child.”

Din wasn’t as disappointed by the news as he thought he’d be. It was the strongest lead he’d had in a while. “Even so, I could use someone like you as my crew,” he offered. Silla’s spine straightened in surprise, and she stopped bouncing the child. “I need someone to look after him while I run jobs, and with you could make sure we--especially him--stay healthy.” Her mouth had dropped open again and she remained silent. “The pay is… sporadic, but I can give you a cut of every job, and you’d have food and shelter.”

The silence stretched on and Din found himself wishing he could see her eyes to get more information of how she was feeling, and then he wondered if she could see his embarrassment and desperation. Her mouth snapped shut and she said in an even tone, “You’ve had to leave your son alone in your ship?”

He couldn’t stop himself from ducking his head. “I take him with me when I can, but most of the time it’s too dangerous,” he said. “The Empire is after him for what he can do, and it’s usually a choice between which one means he’s safer with.”

Her jaw tightened and Din braced himself for a more scolding of his parenting, but then Silla nodded. “Yes, yes I would gladly join your crew. I’ve seen-” she stopped, then hugged the Child close to her. “Just one thing. Could we leave tomorrow? I want to forage one last time on a different part of the mountain, so we can stock up.”

“Yes,” Din answered, and her face finally relaxed into a small smile.

-----

With the Child’s help, they gathered enough apples to fill a small bag, and soon after the Child nodded off from the most practice he’d gotten in a while. Just as well, because when they got close to the net that had been set up near the river bank, Din saw a buffet of amphibious and aquatic life that would’ve sent the kid into a feeding frenzy. Silla opened the cooler to reveal it was filled with water in three separate compartments, and the two of them gathered enough crayfish, crab, and fish to fill all compartments to half capacity each. Din reached down to seize a frog that fit in his palm, and when Silla saw, she said, “Oh, they don’t eat those here.”

“No, but he likes eating these raw,” he said, gesturing to the baby sleeping on his chest.

The corner of Silla’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said. “Unless he has an incredibly strong immune system, raw animals often contain parasites.” Din went frozen with dawning horror, and she continued, “If it’s any consolation, I don’t see any Force signatures of other lifeforms in his body. She glanced in the cooler. There weren’t any compartments remaining, but she grabbed a cloth bag and went to the shore. Finding a small, flat piece of driftwood floating in the water, she placed it inside the bag, then soaked the bag in water. “We can put the frogs in here, then put this bag in the same compartment as the fish. Once we get back to camp, we can cook them.” He admired her cleverness, and though the frogs burrowed deeper into the mud as the sun rose higher, they caught enough for a decent snack. They both dismantled the river net, and began the trip down the mountain.

Despite their greater burdens, the trip down the mountain was easier and their footsteps felt lighter than it had been the way up. Perhaps it was the figurative weight off their shoulders now that she knew about the Child and he knew about the source of her “mystic” eyes. Once they returned to camp, Silla retrieved the bag of frogs, removed the piece of wood, rinsed the bag with hot water from the center pot until the frogs inside stopped moving, then threw the frogs into a smaller pot filled with boiling water. She then separated some of everything else they’d gathered into bags and water-filled jars inside the tent. When Din noticed she left all the crabs and crayfish in the cooler, he asked about it.

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” she explained. “Would you like some later?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” So she prepared a water jar just for the shellfish.

She loaded the bags with what remained onto the hovercraft shelves, then with a click of a button, everything folded back into the hovercraft as it came to life. By now, the frogs were done, so she scooped them back into their bag and gave it to Din. She showed Din where and how to secure the cooler, and they settled in as the hovercraft went the rest of the way to town. There was a red scanner in front that allowed it to self-drive, and once again, now that Din was still did he realize how much physical exertion he’d been doing. They were content to sit in silence, enjoying the ambient sounds and sights, surface or deeper, of the mountains.

As the town came back into view, the Child woke up, smacking his lips. When Din opened the bag to show the Child the boiled frogs, the Child responded with bulging eyes, high-pitched squeals, and clapping hands before he seized one and shoved it into his mouth. At the sound of him gulping it down whole, Silla laughed, and the Child giggled in return before shoving another one into his mouth. He made quick work of all the frogs, moping as he shook the bag upside down to no avail. He began to whimper and fidget in Din’s arms, and Din murmured apologies that those were all that they could find. Still the Child whimpered, and soon began to softly cry.

Silla spoke up. “He’s not hungry, he’s gassy,” she said. Din picked him up and patted his back, but still the Child continued to cry. “Here, let me try.” Din handed the Child over, and after a bit of bouncing, Silla struck his child’s back with a soft thud.

“HEY!” Din shouted, lunging for his son, only to stop when the Child belched loudly enough to echo. With a sigh, the Child nuzzled into Silla’s shoulder, peering over at his father with some concern.

“You do a firm strike with the heel of your palm right here,” she turned to gesture to a place off center left below his shoulders. “Children are tough, but I can understand your concern.” She handed the Child back to Din, who lightly placed the heel of his palm where she’d shown him. The Child turned and held his hand, patting it in reassurance.

“Sorry I yelled.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a parent’s prerogative to worry about their child.”

-----

Once the townsfolk found out that Silla was leaving Lisera tomorrow, they gave her well wishes and gifts to send her off, to the point where they soon gathered enough food gifts to take care of lunch. The harvest she brought with her sold out quickly, and soon all that was left was the bottle of what Din learned was snake wine. She brought it to a Sullustan technician at the spaceport where the Razor Crest was docked, and while she worked that out Din went to the Razor Crest so he could eat lunch and both he and his son could use the refresher. When they returned, Din caught the end of their conversation.

“-dy for you when you arrive tomorrow.”

“Thank you Jae,” Silla said. “Hope you and Hiung enjoy the wine.” She turned towards Din and smiled. “That’s everything! Shall we head back?”

“Yeah,” Din answered. “We should start preparing as soon as possible.”

“A Mandalorian huh? So you’re the one taking our witch away from us, and after we were all startin’ to get to be friends with her,” Jae said with a laugh. “You take care of her huh?”

“Yeah,” Din nodded. “I will.” As they left on the hovercraft and went back towards the mountain, Din asked, “What was that about?”

“Oh! Since I thought you’d be gone for awhile, in lieu of his usual payment, I asked Jae to run some diagnostics on this-” she patted the hovercraft, “right here, and he threw in an offer to craft some simple medical tools to make my new job easier.” She opened one of the food gift containers and found herself with a box of spicy noodles. “Ah, Mala knows these are my favorite.” The sound of slurping and chewing filled the air until the town was once again out of sight, and Silla sighed and sat back in satisfaction, her face red from the spice.

Din reached out to touch her face, and Silla stilled. “Wha-”

“You had some sauce on your cheek,” he said, wiping at it with his thumb.

“Ah, thank you,” she said, and her face turned redder where he’d touched her.

They rested for a bit when they got back to camp, and as the sun set, Silla set out a clay pot of rice to cook and then began packing away as much as she could while Din prepared dinner. The Child first resumed the throw-and-chase of his grass stars, but soon grew bored and climbed onto his father’s shoulder to watch him work. It had been a while since he’d cooked over an open flame, but as long as he paid attention to the food instead of the fire he was fine. In addition to a pot of soup he was making for all of them, he cleaned and stir fried the crab and crawfish for himself and cooked the fish in a separate skillet for Silla, tossing both of them with some vegetables. Silla came over to add some of the dried meat to the soup, then sighed at the smell of sizzling shellfish.

“Crab and shrimp used to be my favorite foods, but after I reached adulthood I suddenly developed an allergy,” she said with a laugh, rolling up the clotheslines. “I used to beg my family to let me have just a small bite but they refused.”

“I won’t be breaking tradition then,” he said, and she laughed again. She’d taken care of everything that was outside the tent, and he told her that dinner would be ready soon. Soon, the soup had simmered long enough, the meat was the right texture, and the rice was steaming and fluffy. He portioned out some of each dish for tomorrow’s breakfast, placing them inside the now dry and empty cooler. When he finished making the dinner trays, Silla took hers and stepped towards the entrance of the tent.

“I’ll go,” Din said, getting up with his plate and the Child’s, but Silla shook her head.

“You’re my guest for now, and I don’t want either you or son to be exposed to the cold,” she said. “Besides, I imagine after I fed him dinner yesterday while you were sleeping, the two of you might want to catch up.”

“I’m wearing armor, and he’s-”

Silla held up a hand and set down her tray. Walking over to her hammock, she pulled out the fur throw, which Din could now recognize as a wolf pelt. Wrapping it around her shoulders, Silla retrieved her tray. “As your host and healer, I insist that you eat inside,” she said. Without waiting for his response, she turned and left the tent.

-----

He hadn’t been as hungry as he’d been for lunch, though the Child took his portions with his usual gusto. Hesitatingly, Din brushed a bit of the crawfish against his ad’ika’s cheek and waited for a reaction. Nothing happened, but he decided to wait at least another day just in case. He’d have to ask Silla if she had the equipment and knowledge to run some tests. The thought of his kid having an allergic reaction, of hives and difficulty breathing, made him shudder. He was snapped out of his morbid thoughts when the Child reached up to pat his face, then reached for the shrimp. “Not yet, ad’ika. I’m not sure it’s safe yet. If it is, we’ll get you some more, okay?” His son pouted a bit, but didn’t protest. Once they’d finished dinner and brushed their teeth, Din got the helmet back on and called in Silla.

The dishes were cleaned and packed away in the hovercraft along with a few remaining bags, and the tent felt a lot larger to Din now that the only things left unpacked were the beds, the large water pot, the cooler, a basket of towels, and a bag of medical supplies. The Child settled into the basket-crib with Din’s cape as his blanket, and with a turn of the music box, he was soon fast asleep.

Silla smiled one of her warm smiles as she kneeled and peered into the basket, and Din wondered the Child looked like through her eyes. She’d said his soul was a brilliant white, but what did that look like when the Child was at peace, well fed, and happy? She then turned towards him, and Din felt her eyes scanning him.

“Were you caught in an explosion recently, or a similar sort of accident?” she asked. When Din answered in the affirmative, she explained, “I’ve noticed several disruptions in your energy along your neck, shoulders, and back. The most critical damage has been healed, but what remains can become an aggravating problem if left untreated. I can start now if you’d like.”

There was likely a reason she’d waited until the child was asleep to bring this up. “What kind of treatment?”

She retrieved the bag and brought out what looked like four pads hooked up to a small radio, along with a metal tray filled with smooth, flat stones the size of her palm. “I can loosen your muscles first with a small electric current, and then do a manual adjustment. I’ll need to apply the pads to bare skin in order for the current to do its job properly, but if you’d rather not, I can do the manual adjustment as long as your armor is removed.”

He had to admire how she was able to say it with such a neutral expression and tone of voice, as if oblivious to the implications or, more likely, aware of the implications but experienced enough for it to not phase her. “So it’s massage therapy.”

“A little more intense,” she said. “Like with the medicine this morning, noise is expected, and in case your helmet has a setting to turn the mic off, I’d rather you didn’t, because if I hit a particularly painful spot, I’d rather know. If you’re in pain and tense up, that works against the treatment. However, it’s all up to you.” She set everything down and folded her hands in her lap.

Din considered it. She’d already undressed him once, the only difference was that this time he’d be conscious of it. The electric current seemed a bit suspicious, but in the unlikely (and it was highly unlikely, given how the kid approved of her) event that she tried something funny, he’d still have his blaster at his hip. “We can do it with the current. Give me a moment.” Silla nodded and closed the tray with the stones, latching it shut. Just like this morning, she gently picked up the Child in his basket and set it on the metal tray, then lifted them both and brought him over to the other side of the tent, out of the shadow of her hammock. She dropped the tray into the large metal pot in the center fire, then stirred the pot and stoked the flame while Din undressed. At some point, satisfied with the fire, she returned to the basket-crib to check on the Child, that smile returning to her face, and she reset the music box. She grabbed the pillow from her hammock and returned to the fire pit, sat facing away from Din, and then simply waited.

He finally got his undershirt off and he told her he was ready. She placed her pillow next to his in an inverted V-shape, and said, “On your stomach. I’ll do your back first.” He did so, and she adjusted the pillows so he could lie face down comfortably. His vision cut off, all he could focus on was the activity of her hands as she applied the pads to his back in a 2x2 grid. She switched on the machine, and the feeling of the electrical current going through him made him shiver. “I’m going to turn up the intensity. Let me know when to stop by raising your left hand.” He heard her turning a knob, and the tingling in near his left shoulder grew until it felt like someone was squeezing the muscle, at which point he raised his left hand. She repeated the process for all four pads, and Din couldn’t help but sigh at the surges that ran through him, squeezing and then relaxing his muscles like… like…

“We’ll let that do its job for 10 minutes,” Silla said. She got out two towels and laid them over the pads, then stood and went back to the fire pit. He heard her slip on gloves and get the metal tray out of the pot, then she returned to his beside and he groaned as he felt the heat on top of towels, making the electric pulses feel even stronger as they both melted him. He barely registered her “Let me know if it’s too hot” as she covered him with the blanket, and for what feels like an eternity Din just shut his eyes as what feels like years of stress dissolved away with each electric pulse under the heat. He lost track of Silla’s footsteps, but at some point the music box stopped playing and he heard it wind up again.

The electric current stopped and Din shivered as Silla removed all the layers and pads, only to sigh when he felt one of the hot stones digging into his back. He groaned as she pressed it into him, hissed as the pain seemed to build as she dug into a pressure point, only for something to give an audible pop and he released a breath at the same time as she did. “There we go,” she murmured, a pleasant tingling sensation radiating throughout his back while she moved on to make another part of his body feel sour. When the stones had cooled down and it felt like his back muscles had been tenderized, he felt her hands on him. She pressed lightly, but everywhere she pressed made sent a small jolt through him, and he wondered if it was a lingering effect of the electric pads. In particular, when she pressed her hands into his lower back, he felt something travel up his spine to the base of his neck, and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

She asked him to flip over, and the whole process repeated on his chest. Now that Din was facing up, she took back her own pillow. The electric pulses went for longer as she needed time to reheat the stones and metal tray, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Everything went about the same until it came time to apply the hot stones directly to him. Face up, he could see her sitting at the head of the bed, and when she leaned over, her chest hovered right above his face.

Din was now truly grateful for the Creed and how she respected it, because the only thing that would’ve made this silent torture worse was if she could see the expression on his face. The fact that she’d cured his cold this morning now felt like a curse as he could breathe in her scent with her so close to him, something that smelled like almost over-ripe fruit and steam. His eyes drifted to where he could see a shadow of a nipple poking through her robes and he clenched his teeth. He closed his eyes to rid himself of the temptation, but with that image in his mind, all he could focus on was the heat of her hands travelling and digging into the vulnerable parts of him, taking his pain and replacing it with a warmth that slowly pooled lower and lower. He could mask his groans as the result of the pressure from the stones, but he felt himself growing hard. This time when she set aside the stones and pressed her hands to him, every single touch seemed to send that electric jolt from straight to the base of his skull and then back down. He wasn’t aware of how much he was sweating until Silla shifted to the side of the bed and made small patting motions all over his torso with a dry towel. At that point, Din decided he would risk opening his eyes.

Her expression was neutral while Din focused on keeping his breathing steady. If she said anything about his breathing patterns, he could easily say he was making sure the cold wasn’t returning. She set aside the towel and reached for his undershirt, but paused. Her head turned towards Din, her brows furrowed in concern, and a frown on her face. The tent was silent save for his breathing, and then her brow relaxed and her lips parted a fraction of an inch.

Then Silla leaned down, close enough that he could feel her breath next to his ear, and whispered, “Just so you know, that is a completely normal physical response.” Din continued to focus on his breathing as if the denial made it more likely she meant something else. “While this-” she held up his shirt, “-is still off and your son sleeps, do you want me to take care of that?”

Din’s breathing stopped, and he wondered for a moment if he’d been poisoned and was hallucinating. That would explain why his throat suddenly felt tight. “You don’t-” he stammered. “You’re not-”

Silla’s mouth quirked into a cheeky smile. “There’s a euphemism where I grew up for whores,” she murmured, dark honey dripping into her voice. “Intimate healers. We were taught that for many, sex is as important as food, water, and sleep.” She gently lay herself next to him on the bed, and the hand that had been resting on his shoulder drifted downward. “Considering all the stress and anxiety that surrounds it… and you have been under so much stress already. I would gladly help you with it.” She paused at his stomach, tracing light circles that made his insides twist with heat. “If it’s payment you’re worried about,” she continued, fingers dancing tantalizingly close along his belt, “I’d say after all you’ve given me, you’ve more than earned it.” He seized her hand, squeezing it tightly in his own, holding it just above his belt. He could feel how soft it was, and he loosened his hold only slightly when she gave a small grunt of pain. Slowly, he steadied his breathing and he turned to look at her face. The way her mouth was parted promised warmth and comfort, and when his gaze drifted downward to see her breasts pressing into his side, he groaned before he could stop himself. “One word, yes or no, Mandalorian, and I will respect it,” she said, voice low and breathy.

He wanted, ached to give in, but the tremors in his limbs and the sight of her teeth in that small smile she was giving terrified him. If he gave in to what he wanted, he felt that this woman, this healer, would devour him with her devotion. That he felt scared at all filled him with self-loathing, and soon his mind was locked in a downward spiral. He kept a tight grip on her hand as he pulled it up, where he pressed it against his chest and relished the feel of it for just a while longer. A few more deep breaths, and he croaked, “No.”

And just like that, she lifted herself up, pulling her hand out of his grasp. She handed him his undershirt, and left his side, and while he got the undershirt over his helmet, he glanced over at the basket in case the kid had woken, relieved to hear only silence. He started when Silla appeared again at his side, which in turn caused her to flinch, but she simply handed him a cup of a sweet smelling beverage with a straw sticking out of it. “This tea should help you sleep tonight,” she said, the smile on her face small and tight. “Goodnight Mandalorian.” She rubbed the hand he’d gripped and returned to her hammock. Once she adjusted her bedding and zipped herself inside, silence filled the tent once more.

Din sipped the tea to the last drop and settled back on the bed, breathing deeply and forcing his eyes closed, but it was no use. His mind kept going back to how Silla pressed herself against him. One word, just one word. He tried to simply let the thoughts flow through him, but his body grew unbearably hot, and as he clenched his hand at the sense memories flooded, he knew he couldn’t hold out any longer.

Switching the mic in his helmet to off and grabbing a towel, he slipped off a glove and undid his pants, and shoved his hand inside, hissing at the sweet relief as he found himself as hard as a rock. He rubbed his thumb at the tip, pre-cum dripping into his hand that let him slip it over the rest of his length. He sighed as he squeezed up and down his length and he felt the calluses on his hands Silla’s hands were soft so soft suppose that she were the one doing this right now. She’d lick her lips and let out those breathy moans while she ran her hands up and down his dick, slipping her tunic off her shoulders to reveal those breasts- Din gasped at where his mind was going but he was lost to his own fantasy, pumping faster, his hand catching the tip with each stroke as if-she the tip in her mouth no it was too much she’d been kind too kind and generous with him but she pressed her breasts around the rest of him and how could he refuse. He imagined untangling her hair out of the scarf she wore, imagined that it was as pale as her skin as it flowed down and then he pulled at it then pushed her head down, made her take all of him, and she gasped and gagged around him but soon started moaning and he could hear her saying “Mndhh! Mndhh!” He let go of her head and she sucked hard on the tip, pressing her tongue at the spot that made his head spin. “Mando,” she gasped, a trail of spit going from his dick to her mouth. A smile spread over her face.

“Din…”

The burst of heat slammed into him and he gasped as he came, thick white ropes splattering onto his belly and the towel. He kept stroking for as much as he could, but the fantasy image began to fade along with the body heat. Before long, his head cleared, and he could feel his breathing return to normal. He absent-mindedly wiped himself off with the towel, thinking for a moment that he should toss it in the fire when he was done, before deciding on the less stupid idea of just hiding it on his person. Once done, his arm hung limply at his side. Din sighed at how his body felt like his own again, and he closed his eyes to welcome sleep.

In the dead silence of the tent, Din’s heart just about stopped when he heard Silla sigh and groan, and it didn’t start beating again until he heard the faint snoring that followed. He was beginning to regret offering her a place in his crew, but to rescind his offer after all the preparation and packing they’d done would be an act of complete cowardice.

Maybe once they were on the ship and some time had passed things would cool down, but even as Din considered such a chain of events, his instincts warned him that a professional relationship was not going to make this any easier.

#The Mandalorian Fanfiction #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years ago

Text

things left behind and the things that are ahead ch. 4

AO3 link here

She comes home with a headache. It’s to be expected when one has been to three - no, four - time zones in just over forty-eight hours, but knowing the cause doesn’t make it go away.

The luggage that she takes from the back of the government car is the overnight case from the set that the Commandos had given to her and Steve for their wedding (“Better than that old kit bag!”). The blue and white leather is cracking by this point, but it’s too familiar for her to give up, and when would she have the time to pick out something new anyway? She could ask Steve to take care of it, she supposes, but would he know that she likes an elastic pocket not only in the lid but inside the body too, that she wants a removable lining for smuggling purposes when necessary?

(Well, he could probably guess that part.)

She walks up the path to the house so slowly that even the sound of the car has faded before she reaches the front porch. Her step is meandering rather than just tired, although the idea of a shower and the opportunity to fall asleep in her own bed is so pleasant that it is almost painful, like finally stretching a long-folded limb. She takes the time to notice the first of the crocuses coming up beside the steps, and how pretty the inset little stained glass window looks in the velvet night: the lamp had been on at the end of the drive, but this close there is just the faintest light from deep in the house beaming through. There are worn places in the front door varnish which she notices as she puts her key in the lock; Steve usually fixes it up once they’re deeper into spring.

Although she expected her husband to still be awake, she nevertheless feels a resignation when she sees him sitting, relaxed, on the living room sofa. She doesn’t think that she has the energy to talk, even with him.

She knows that he must have heard her footsteps in the hallway, likely even heard the car in the drive, but he doesn’t look up until she has slipped off her shoes and come to sit on the loveseat, staring blankly ahead of her toward the empty fireplace.

“Hi,” he says after a moment of waiting for her. He has his index finger tucked into a page midway through the book he was reading, as if he’s only anticipating a brief interruption. It’s a children’s book, A Wrinkle in Time according to the cover. Peggy thinks he must have started reading it to everyone at bedtime. “How was the trip?”

She waves a vague hand. “Who can remember?”

“Well, hopefully someone.” He sets his book aside. “Or else all this international travel was sort of a waste.” She smiles, or something like it, but doesn’t respond. She knows that Steve is watching her, but she finds herself closing her eyes and listening to the quiet country sounds around their house. Steve is more at home in the city, but they had both agreed that they would like to raise their children out here. The crickets, the wind in the trees and the sound of far-off birds reminds her of her childhood, out of reach by decades which feel so much longer.

“Was everything alright here?” she asks after a moment. Steve pauses before responding; she knows that he can see the weight in her, the tiredness, but he must recognize that she needs some sort of normal anchor too, because he starts to speak. The children have nearly worn out another Beatles record, playing it over and over, and Steve’s about ready to break it himself. Drea still wants to adopt the cat they keep seeing in the yard. Nate wet the bed again - they’d thought they were done with that. Someone went to the museum with their class. Everyone is already looking forward to their time in Brooklyn over the summer; they’d talked about it at dinner that evening…

She doesn’t realize that she is crying until Steve has crouched in front of her and given her knee a gentle touch. Crying isn’t the word for it, really. She is weeping, without sobs, the tears silent and unceasing.

“Did something happen?” Steve asks, and she feels the years that have passed, because he sounds solid, none of the discomfort he would have once had seeing her like this.

“Something is always happening,” she says on a drawn-in breath. “There will always be something happening, and it will always be my responsibility to handle it.”

“Ours,” Steve says instantly. “I know that I’ve taken a backseat in things—” Self-sacrificing, as always. As if it had been only his choice, as if they hadn’t decided together back at the beginning that it would be safest, as if he had been in any state at the time to do the work that needed doing, as if she hadn’t been so certain that she could do it all on her own. “Nate starts first grade in the fall. We’ve been talking about me going back to school anyway once the kids are all out during the day. There’s no reason I can’t come back in an official capacity.”

Technically he’s right. Keeping all circumstances in mind, his body is over fifty now, but he still runs a three minute mile when he has a mind to. His fighting style is more elegant than it was during the war, honed, reliant on physics and improvisation, and adaptable to even an older physique. And more than that, she imagines him by her side in meetings, in her office, a true equal with whom to make decisions.

She shakes her head. “We decided. You’ve done your duty.”

“That was years ago. You’ve been doing this twice as long as I ever did.”

“If you came back, it would drain something from you, something that I’ve seen you earn back over all this time.”

Gently, he asks, “But what about what it’s draining from you?”

She shakes her head. “It can’t matter.”

“It matters more than anything,” he tells her, and anyone else would be unwilling to argue with the steel underlying the words. Peggy stands, so abruptly that he shifts himself back. She simply has to be moving, even without purpose.

“I don’t think I had realized there would be so much,” she says. Her footfalls are soundless, lost in the carpet. The idea of the drinks cart crosses her mind and is erased again in an instant, papered over by the words spilling from her. “I should have known, but I didn’t really...The map keeps shifting on me. There are so many little pieces of which I must always be aware, and still there are things we can’t anticipate.” His mouth tightens, and she can tell that he is fighting against looking away. She knows he is remembering what happened with Emmett Till.

He gets to his feet, slow and careful not for the sake of his own aging body, but because of her caged eyes. He walks to her and moves to touch the pulse of her wrists, sliding his thumbs with tenderness over the gasping beat that he finds there. He places her palms together and presses his lips to the tops of her gathered fingers. “These are the strongest hands I know,” he says steadily. “But even the strongest hands can’t do everything on their own. If it is too much, you leave. You know that.”

“And have everything fall apart?”

“You’ve trained some competent people,” Steve points out with a bit of humor. “Things won’t go to pieces right away.”

“I’ve trained competent people, yes,” she says, “but no one who knows things as we do.”

She wonders, as she sometimes does, about the other Peggy, the Peggy who Steve had known. Did she set her course and rely on her own confidence, burdened with only the normal intelligence of spy networks and the instincts of her career, or did she feel this same hopelessness sometimes? She must have, Peggy thinks. How could she avoid it when there were wars on too many fronts, injustice all around, when people died on an order from her, died carrying out her orders?

The thought of simply leaving it all for someone else to take care of, all the effort and difficulty and the wrenching choices abandoned as she finds something that will be enough instead of sometimes too much, has something of its own appeal; she has been doing this for too long to deny that. She cannot pretend to have all of the youthful energy, the bullheaded determination, that she brought to her first assignments. But she recognizes this too: if she left, it would not be clean and guiltless and without consequence, either.

The thought of the other Peggy, the Peggy she might have been, steadies her for a simple reason: she knows that she can survive all this because in another reality, she already did.

“It would help,” she says slowly, her breathing nearly normal again, “if we could find a regular time to discuss these things—”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t commit before I’ve even finished,” she admonishes. “You are planning on going back to school, after all.”

“And I’ll still be there for you, whenever you need it.” His voice is so smooth, so confident, but it is never just pretty words with Steve. Her husband is loyalty and dedication and standing up and trying, over and over again. She knows that now more than ever.

She frees her hands from his and dries her face inelegantly, swiping the heels of her palms against her cheeks. Steve sighs slightly and tips her chin up toward him, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, slightly creased and linty from being shoved in his pocket. She supposes she’s lucky it isn’t stained from wiping something off a child’s face. There's something about the whole that's silly enough that she lets out a watery laugh. She still feels a bit raw, though, and pushes him gently away after just a moment.

"Cup of tea?" he asks tactfully.

"Two sugars," she says. It’s been years since she took sugar in her tea. It is a thing of childhood long left behind. He just nods, though, before walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.

She feels worn now not only from travel and business and distance from home, but from the expulsion of emotion, the release of her doubts. It has been too long since she allowed such things space in the open air. There’s a feeling in her chest as if she just finished a long run. She drops onto the sofa, her limbs loose, her stare open.

It is only then that she notices Rose at the top of the stairs. Rosie is her nighttime self, the kind she would never reveal to rivals or friends or classmates: she wears a voluminous white nightgown with delicate lace appliques and little silken bows, her hair in stubby plaits on either side of her head, her temper in its resting state. But she has her considering face pressed between the bars of the upper landing bannister, looking down; curiosity, as Peggy well knows, is hard to put to sleep.

Peggy tries to think of something to say, some excuse to smooth things over. Even when Rosie was small, at her wildest and most difficult to handle, Peggy had never cried in front of her. She had been very careful of that - predator’s instincts. But Rosie doesn't seem confused or scared.

"I’m glad you’re home, Mom," she whispers, audible in the drifting quiet between the two of them, and rises. She creeps down the hallway, pausing only to tap softly on Nate's door. Peggy wonders if it is a habit she hadn’t noticed or if he is also awake in there too, her sweet boy.

Steve returns then. Peggy doesn't mention Rose as she takes the teacup from him and inhales the steam.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Steve asks. "Remember, you don't have to make decisions tonight."

She tilts a smile toward him. "I'll be fine. 'I can't go on, I'll go on' and all."

“You shouldn’t have to. I think leaving should still be an option.”

“Leaving will always be an option,” she says, her grasp on calm, on professionalism, returning to her. “But I doubt my not leading SHIELD will be the option that will be beneficial to the most people.”

“‘If you can’t do some good simply because you don’t have a badge in hand, then I’m not certain I know you,’” he says, and she gives him a dirty look because he is quoting herself back at her. "If it's too much—"

"I have you," Peggy says, lips against the rim of her cup. "I always have you here. How could I doubt that?"

And that's one thing that the other Peggy never had. It is no trouble to hope that she had someone else to talk to - there is no reason to begrudge her a bit of comfort - but this is one thing Peggy was given along with all of her essential, expansive, terrible knowledge, her endless responsibility: she was given Steve here to carry it all with her.

Previous chapters

#Steggy fic #Steggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic

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missingverse · 7 years ago

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Missing Chapter Fifteen

To all my regular readers, thank you for your patience. The holidays are always busy for me and this year in particular, I'm literally just in from a trip overseas. Thank you also for the reviews I've gotten lately, I cannot tell you how much I enjoy reading your thoughts.

Although this fic is still quite a ways from being complete, I would like to write more for the Hey Arnold fandom, it's been such a nice place to park my boat. I'd like to hear what kind of fics you want to read after Missing has run its course, please don't be shy.

Warning: This chapter might be a bit too much for anyone with a sensitive disposition. Be forewarned going in.

…..

Details of the Helga Pataki Case that were not revealed to the general public, only to law personnel on a need-to-know basis:

*The father of the missing child, Robert Pataki, was arrested for and eventually given a custodial sentence of seven years for making and distributing obscene images of children. He was given a further three years for obstruction, namely attempting to destroy the evidence. The mother of the missing child, Miriam Pataki, was questioned under a lie detector and seemed to be unaware of her husband's activities.

*The family were known to Child Protective Services, as Helga Pataki had been flagged multiple times by school staff, concerned parents of the child's friends and three healthcare workers. Several meetings were called by the social workers in charge of this family's welfare but no steps were taken to remove the child ('unwillingness to talk' was cited as a reason, as well as a 'combative attitude' in the child in question.)

*Medical and dental records pertaining to Helga Pataki were scattered and hard to trace, due to the family's neglecting to have a set general practitioner or any dental work done on their younger child. Some private medical notes received from both a local free clinic in East Bryantson and a Dr Ellis Callaghan in Hillwood's pediatric clinic indicated that the child was usually in good health but was mildly malnourished, suffered from stress-related insomnia and had a habit of teeth-grinding.

*A call from Helga Pataki's cellphone to Officer Michael Plaskett was logged at 3:15pm, and again in increments of ten minutes up until 5:30pm.

*The last phone call not made to the officer was made to Phoebe Heyerdahl, a school friend, at 5:22pm. After that, there is no recorded use of the phone made on the account.

*A description and photo of Helga Pataki were sent to morgues around the surrounding states, and triggered three possible fits. Two of these turned out to be badly disfigured in traffic accidents and did not match the height or age range, and the other was an undersized adult woman.

*Notes sent around to police offices flagged that the child was a possible Black Gulch Ripper victim, although she did not fit the Ripper's M.O. The bodies found had been getting progressively younger before he went quiet.

*Scraps of pink cotton fabric, a possible match to the dress Helga Pataki had been wearing, were found on the outskirts of Blackstone, three miles from Pocaselas. Blood spatters were detected on the fabric but a DNA match could not be made due to incomplete medical records.

*Traces of a child's blonde hair were found wrapped around a rock sixteen miles into the Hillwood mountain range, to the South. It is thought this was an effort by the abductor to distract scent dogs. Again, a DNA match could not be made but tests proved the hair belonged to an adolescent girl between the age of ten and thirteen.

….

Looking from the screen printouts to the forest and back was getting tiresome, but Arnold persisted. A crawling sense that he owed it to Helga, to make up for his clumsiness the day before, kept him painstakingly trying to match the images.

Never mind that a forest was always changing, so you could never trust it to look the same from day to day, never mind year to five years later.

…..

She was asleep when he came back, curled up on his bed, still wearing her shoes. He guessed she might have made it as far as the bed before collapsing. Careful not to touch her, he removed her shoes and draped the comforter over her.

Then he stretched out on the couch to spend a long, sleepless night worrying about what she'd say when she woke up.

…..

“Are you getting anything?” Phoebe called breathlessly from about fifty yards behind him.

He shrugged, and looked to Helga for her input. She was stock-still, hand at her mouth, unsure.

“Not right now,” he called back. “Maybe if we get in a bit further...”

They were already tired; Pocaselas was a long bus trip from Hillwood, and getting past the Gulch into the forest was a tough hike. Not to mention Arnold was running on little sleep, tense from what had happened the day before and more than a little nervous about having Phoebe tag along trailing possibly after someone who had murdered women and girls not much older than her...

…..

“Just forget it,” Helga said when she finally woke up. “It was a moment of madness. It won't happen again.”

“Yeah,” Arnold agreed, though it felt wrong in his mind, in his very throat. “Okay.”

…..

The only thing left to do was to press on, try their best to follow the trail left behind. If they did find out what happened to Helga, there was a slight possibility that she wouldn't disappear. There was every chance she would stay behind, forever. And between haunting a lonely boarding house by herself and entering into some mutual madness with Arnold, what was the smarter choice?

She kissed me back. I know she did.

He spun a few degrees west, held up another printout and squinted. The mountain range was right, but two of the trees had gone since the photo he was working from had been made. (Lightning strike? Wildfire? Deforestation? Who knew?)

Phoebe caught up just as he was measuring the distance between two crops of trees.

“Remind me why we're doing this again?” she gasped. Her glasses were foggy with sweat.

“I showed Helga a bunch of google images of Pocaselas and printed the ones she reacted to,” he told her, holding up the photo of the same crops of trees. “So we could get a possible match on her last known whereabouts.”

“Yeah,” Phoebe huffed. “Doesn't sound like any less of a long shot the second time you said it. Just checking.”

“You didn't have to come,” Arnold retorted.

“Yes, she did,” Helga said quietly, distractedly.

“Yes, I did,” Phoebe replied with a tinge of venom.

“Then stop grousing and help,” he said, handing her a few sheets. “Check the topography map, see where we are.”

Grumbling under her breath, Phoebe did as she was told.

Arnold's eyes flicked from the printouts to Helga and back. She was tense, he could feel nervous energy running off of her in a steady stream. Something about this place had her on edge, and that meant they were close to a breakthrough.

…..

“That one,” she said suddenly, and at the sharp edge that had jumped into her voice Arnold stopped scrolling with a jolt.

“That one?” he said, raising his mouse over a small unremarkable crop of trees. “What's special about that one?”

“I don't know,” she replied, staring at the image hard. “I just know I've seen it before.”

…..

She was wandering away, and he knew he had to give her space to think if they were to find anything useful, but his eyes were drawn to her regardless. In the shadow of the trees, for the first time she looked like a ghost to him, marked transparent by dapples of sunlight and patches of murky darkness. She looked like with one wrong turn she would phase into the trees like some ancient woodland spirit.

“I can see her more clearly now,” Phoebe said suddenly, staring off into the trees the same way Arnold was. “She's wearing jeans, right? And her hair is down.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Arnold said with a genuinely glad smile.

“It's long,” Phoebe said, wrinkling her nose in good-humoured puzzlement. “Like, down to her waist? She would never have let it get that long normally....isn't that weird?”

“It is kind of odd...”

He hadn't thought much about it before, but it was strange. Why would her hair have grown out if she was dead?

“Arnold, this is the wrong place,” Phoebe said, swiftly changing the subject by yanking the printout from his hands. “Wrong trees.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that,” she explained, stabbing one finger at a spindly tree to the front of the tree cluster on the sheet, “is a mountain hemlock tree. And there's three more in that patch. There's no hemlock on this side of the hill.”

“Huh,” he said. “I knew I had a reason to bring you here. So where do we find a hemlock tree?”

“This way,” she said, jogging down the trail in the direction Helga had gone.

…..

It was close to two hours before they stopped, finally locating the hemlock tree that matched the one on the sheet. Arnold laid out the printouts on the forest floor, matching them as best he could, looking over them from his seat on a protruding tree root. All in all, together they depicted almost a full square mile of the forest.

But....there was nothing there.

Just trees, lots of them, some spongy forest floor with leaf litter and a few sinkholes, some rock outcroppings and a slowly descending mist from the upper mountain peaks.

What happened here? Did anything happen here?

If Helga was tense before, she was visibly agitated now. She couldn't stop moving, folding and unfolding her arms, fiddling with her hair, biting at her knuckles. Her eyes darted and she paced in circles. It put Arnold in mind of a small animal backed into a corner.

“Is she okay?”Phoebe whispered. “I can't see her face...”

“She's jumpy,” Arnold whispered back.

Helga circled the clearing in widening arcs, until suddenly she froze. Arnold jumped to his feet and was rushing to her side even before she started screaming.

“What? What is it?” he shouted.

“Is that her screaming?” Phoebe cried, hurrying behind him. “Why is she screaming?”

She was just outside the clearing, stuck in place before a sheer drop-off that had been hidden by the trees. When Arnold touched her shoulder and gently tried to jostle her, he found it impossible to move her even slightly. She clutched her head, so hard that in his own panic Arnold was worried she was hurting herself.

“It's burning!” she spat out in between screams. “I'm on fire, I'm burning!”

“No, no,” he tried to tell her. “You're not burning....you're with me and Phoebe, you're safe with us...”

“It burns!” she repeated, over and over, quieter only because her voice was cracking and strained. “It hurts!”

“Do something,” Phoebe hissed and shoved him.

Do what?

He did the only thing he could think of. He threw down his stuff and swept Helga up in his arms, off of the ground. He buried her head under his and held her as close as possible.

“You're not burning,” he whispered in her ear. “You're okay, I've got you.”

It seemed to work, at least a little, because she stopped screaming and although she was crying, it was quiet and relatively calm. Her breathing lost that frenzied wheeze and hitch and although shaky, it was steady. That was more than he could say for his own heart, which was hammering a panicky beat and sending beads of cold sweat trickling down his back.

She was going to fade out, he knew she would. It didn't make it any easier when she did, and left him holding nothing but air.

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Phoebe mutter behind him.

I need to get back home. I can't leave her alone right now.

But, equally, that reaction spoke volumes. This place was important.

“Was it the marshlands that did it?” Phoebe asked gingerly.

“What marshlands?” Arnold asked, when he found his voice.

“Those marshlands,” she said, pointing towards the drop-off.

He stepped as close to the edge of the cliff as he dared, and sure enough they had found the notoriously-difficult-to-travel-through wetlands, full of snakes and leeches and mosquitoes and all other creepy crawlies that made muddy water their home.

“Maybe,” he agreed, though he was unsure.

Phoebe picked up the topography map and stared down at it, frowning. Arnold walked backwards, tracing his steps back through the clearing.

She was okay until she got to that spot. What happened there? Where did she go from?

The forest floor was bare, as far as he could see. What was he missing?

He closed his eyes, concentrated on the dead leaves crunching under his hiking boots, the wind blowing through the trees, the slight spring of the soil....

...until that spring wasn't there. The ground was different in the patch he just stepped on. More solid.

Arnold opened his eyes. Visually, it wasn't any different, covered in as much dead leaves and forest debris as everywhere else. But there was something strange about the way the ground underneath felt. He tapped his foot.

A quiet but distinctly hollow sound echoed from the nearest sinkhole.

Not a sinkhole. It's too clean.

He put his hand in the hole and felt around the edge, but drew back with a hiss when whatever was forming the hole sliced his finger open.

That's metal.

He pushed away as much of the forest litter as he could, and managed to uncover something that had clearly gone unnoticed for a long time given how much moss and other gunk was growing on it.

A large metal door in the forest floor. The hole was an oversized patch of rust. It was heavy, but not so heavy he couldn't lift it.

“Is that....?” Arnold heard Phoebe say over the screech of the rusted hinges.

He looked inside. And in less than a minute slammed it shut.

“Arnold? Is that a...” Phoebe said, stepping forward.

“NO!” he shouted, loud enough to scare away the few birds that hadn't budged for Helga's earlier screaming. “Don't come over here!”

“What? What's in there....?”

“Phoebe,” he begged, holding up his hands to physically stop her if he needed to. “Stay where you are. You don't need to see this.”

“Is she in there?” she asked, her voice rising high and strident. “Arnold, IS SHE IN THERE!?!”

“Don't look,” he begged her. “Please. Go back downhill. Call the police.”

Phoebe didn't say another word, but turned and ran down the trail. He didn't even look at her, but he didn't have to. She probably looked as sick as he felt.

What were you expecting? Did you really think anything good would come of this?

It had only been a quick look inside the (bunker?hole?burrow?) but a quick look was all it took to connect the dots.

The chains coupled to the wall.

The steel cage in the corner, just about big enough for a large dog or a small human.

The table covered with rusted tools; pliers, hammers, screwdrivers, and enough blades to suit any working butcher.

The big metal tub, covered in streaks of rust and something else.

Stacked wooden crates buzzing with flies.

And sitting in the middle of it all, spread across a chopping board with what looked like a meat cleaver hovering over it, was Helga's pink dress.

#hey arnold fanfiction #TW:Crime #tw: violence

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thejadedynasty · 7 years ago

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Ilikay: Meet With the Warden

Sitting in the warden’s office isn’t new. You know this chair, big and uncomfortable despite its appearance, and you know these walls, empty aside from two large propaganda posters behind the warden’s seat. The only thing really different this time is the warden himself and you know why. The fire hadn’t been kind to him.In the time before you had pulled him from the inferno, he had managed to suffer numerous burns that were now etched across his skin like mountains scrawled on a map. If anything, they made him look more intimidating....a troll who had survived hell and come out to tell the tale. You’re sure no one will ever tell the part about you dragging him out on your shoulders.... Most days you were called in for some discrepancy or another. Sometimes you didn’t follow orders and other times you followed orders wrong. The result was always the same, but lately you had done your best not to rock the boat. The other trolls held on the station were not too happy with you ruining their plan with your bleeding heart and you’d taken the abuse like a good soldier does. Despite the bruises, you felt you had done the right thing...however ungrateful the warden might be. He taps his fingers on his desk and watches you with two cold and steady eyes and you keep your own eyes toward the ground. You couldn’t think of why you might have been called there....he was probably going to tell you. “Nazca....brought here for attempted culling of a superior officer....free thinker with the potential for radicalism....potential threat to the Empire....” He reads off your chart with a disinterested look- the same “diagnosis” the Empire had given you when this whole mess started. You’ve stopped mentioning how you never wanted to cull anyone....they don’t hear you anyway. “Sentenced to an indefinite stay in military rehabilitation - to be released upon proper integration into Empirical Service.....sounds about right” The tone in his voice shifts upon his last words and you glance up for just a moment to see him looking at you through an expression you don’t recognize. He steeples his fingers and leans back. “You have fought this every step of the way. Countless punishments and increased regimes and you are still marked as a questionable entity onboard this station...” You don’t say anything; wringing your hands together in your lap. “And yet,you were the only troll out of hundreds held in my care....to show any loyalty.” Now he has your attention. You lift your head and wrinkle your nose a little as the statement settles in against your thoughts and tries to mix with the situation. “I know that the fire was not an accident...It isn’t the first time the scum on this ship has attempted to remove me from my seat as warden....and it wont be the last. But it was the first time anyone has lept to my aid.” The warden shifts through the papers in front of him with a stern crease across his brow as though conflicted in his statement. His eyes swiftly lock back on yours and his voice turns low. “And I have to ask you....why?...Why would you try to help me when I would never do the same for you?” Again, you are confused. More confused than normal. Is this a trick? A trap? He’s alive and that should be all that matters, but here he is trying to determine the logistics of it all. You swallow hard and find your answer...though you’re not sure it’s the one he wants. “No one deserves to die like that....” He scoffs. “That’s all?....” he asks in a somewhat sarcastic tone. You don’t speak, but nod. His scowl turns to one of frustration and you both sit in silence for a spell. Over and over again, he shifts through your documents and seems to take in every piece of information they have to offer, but each time they don’t succeed in giving him and answer, he sinks back a little more in his chair. “I am not a superstitious troll you know...But I am a civilized one...I believe that actions speak much louder than words.....and that one should not look a gift hoof-beast in the mouth. All good lessons to keep in mind.” He pauses....and sets the papers down one last time.

“And that is why I have decided you are ready to be reinstated and returned to your post”

You sit up so quickly that you almost fall out of your chair. Had he spoken much quieter, you might have missed what he’d said, but as they echo in your mind, you can’t be sure you believe what you’ve heard either way.

“Re-.....reinstated?” you stutter out between bewildered blinking.

“Yes, reinstated. You will be going back to your home-ship and will return to the post you held before you came here. I believe you have proven that, despite your....quirks....your loyalties are steady.” He extracts a pen from the cup on his desk and carefully scribbles a few lines down on the paperwork now fanned out in front of him.You can’t think of a thing to say let alone how to react. It feels like a very surreal dream....

“You leave tomorrow. Have your things packed and your slave ready to leave the station by first call.” Your ears perk. Perdix! You had almost forgotten and suddenly you’re itching to tell him the news. So much so that you stand up before being dismissed and have to sit back down with a heavy thud the moment your realize it. The warden raises his brow, but motions for you to stand.

“Don’t make me regret my decision, Nazca. Should you slip up again....it wont be here that they’ll send you....Don’t make me into a liar.” You nod vigorously and the moment he dismisses you, you’re out the door and down the halls at a sprint. You have to tell him. You’re finally going home. You can finally try to fix things. You’re finally free.

#ilikay things #writing #plot stuff #avert your eyes from my ugly scribbles #long post

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idreamofasriel-blog · 7 years ago

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Metal Slug Past Life Ch 22

“Careful now. He has gotten out of surgery and I don't want any of those stitches popping out on my watch.” Marco roused from his sleep and hope for the last time without being drugged. The side effect of the anesthesia hit him hard in his stomach and he laid in his bed, focusing on ridding of this feeling of nauseousness and it didn't help that his throat is sore and his mouth is dry. He flinched while trying to get up in his bed and inspect the bandages wrapped around his chest. The Doctor and nurse did a professional job on wrapping his chest up with gauze and medical tape and he peeled a corner off carefully to see the tight stitches Dr. Cawfield made on him during surgery. “What are you doing? Don't mess with your stitches.” said The Nurse who just stepped into the room to check up on him. Marco put the corner back where it was and flatten out the tape of any wrinkles he made with it. The Nurse is in her teen years with brown hair held back with the hair clips with bright eyes. She set the tray on the table and went to Marco's bedside to help him with his bandages and sighed, “No matter, Mr. Rossi. We were going to change your bandages anyways and put cleans one on.” “What did they do to Tarma, Fio, and Eri? They better not harm my friends or They'll be Hell to pay.” said Marco, throwing the covers back but for a small teenage woman, The Nurse pushed him right back into his bed with no problem. It's either she's a horse Grim or the loss of blood from earlier have made him too weak to resist a simple push. “They're fine, sir. Master Horatio will never harm you or your friends. I'm here to check on your health before reporting back to Dr. Cawfield.” This is Marco's chance to escape, The Nurse did look like the type of person to trick easily. “Nurse, I'm in a lot of pain. Do you have any pain pills I can take?” He groaned and rubbed his chest lightly. “Right away, Mr. Rossi. I'll get your pills, so please lay back down and relax.” Marco did as he was told. He swung his legs back onto his bed and rest his back against the pillows and watched The Nurse smiled at him and struggled to open the medicine bottle. “Here, let me help you.” He took the bottle from her and unscrew the cap and hand the bottle back. The young lady was blushing and shyly said thank you to him and took out two pills for him. She then poured him a glass of ice cold water and handed them both to him. Marco took the pills without question and put the pills in his mouth and drank the water all at once. “There, that wasn't so bad,” she smiled “I'm Nurse Echo and I'm your Mare Grim nurse for the day. Dr.Cawfield will be in soon to check up on you and your progress. If you need me, press the button on your nightstand and I'll be here in a jiffy.” Marco smiled at her, “Thanks, Nurse Echo. I think I'll rest for now.” he said, pulling the sheets over and closing his eyes. The Nurse took the bottle and tray and left Marco alone to rest. Once the door closed shut, Marco opened his eyes and tossed the bed sheet to the side and spit the pills out of his mouth and into his hands. He discarded them into a nearby waste basket and looked around the room for a way to escape from this room without Nurse Echo spotting him. He looked out the window, it was no good with The Twilight Seeker out in the courtyard patrolling the place with its glowing eyes surveying the place and prowling like a hungry cat. Going out the door is out of the question too. Marco sat down on his bed and thinks. At least they left his vest and backpack in here and a new white shirt to wear. He got both of those on and now to think of a way to escape. “What a cliche way to escape.” Marco said to himself and he pried the air vent cover off and slide it to the side quietly and got down on his hands and knees. Escaping the room was no problem but now finding where his friends are is another task he faces. They can be anywhere in this mansion and Marco better think of a way to get to them and fast. He stops when he hears footsteps and peak through the vents and listen in on any conversations around him and moves on when they hold no vital information he's seeking. Moving through the air duct, Marco yelled and fell through a rusted old vent cover and hit the floor. He groaned and groped around the darkness for anything to help him get up and found a table and pull himself up on his feet. The table felt dusty and his fingers were coated with a layer of it and he brushed it off on his pants. Carefully moving around the dark room and no light coming from the space between the door and floor, Marco assumes it is safe to turn the light on and get a better look of the room he's in. He found a switch by the door and flips it on. The Lightbulb flickered from age and illuminated the whole room for Marco to see. Dust floated around the lightbulb and Marco walked around the room. The table was littered with faded yellow papers but he can still read the reports and plan with no problems. In the center of the table, Marco recognizes the tower all too perfectly. It was the same one that Oguma rose a long time ago and helped destroy to the ground to save their world from being wiped out. Notes were scribbled all over the map and drawings of The Dusk Eater and The Twilight Seeker and where would they attack. On the table is a knife coated with dry blood that Marco inspected without wanting to cut himself on the sharp blade and he picked up notes and read them carefully. “Month fifth, Day XX Year XXXX Assassination plot failed and Kewald Oguma is still alive thanks to his grandson sparing him and on the move to destroy the world. Jonas Kronos killed the wrong target and out of panic, used a forbidden runekavle to send Kartu Oguma into The Time Rift toward the future. Jonas Kronos refused to say why he sent The Tuaha de Dunan into The Time Rift. I must have words with my grandson for the sake of our world and all living things on it. Even if I have to rip open a Time Rift to get to the bottom of this chaotic mess.” So this is what is all about and why The Grims are so persistent to get Kartu and using General Morden to push their agenda through. Marco was putting the pieces together and now he knows why they been calling Kartu The Missing Source. To Marco, all this is is a grandfather fixing a massive error caused by two young boys. One who they claimed had died protecting his grandfather while the other was sent to kill Oguma. Kartu isn't suppose to be alive, he's supposed to be dead from a mistake caused by Jonas. He folded the paper up to show to The Squad later and tuck it away in his pants pocket for safe keeping. Taking a last look around the room, Marco spotted a table out of the normal. It was new, no dust has gathered on it, and it was littered with fresh papers, and a bulletin board was hung above it, already covered with pictures and notes. He shuffled through papers and photos and held one picture up of himself to the light. He saw some writing on the back of the picture and turned it over to see notes about sabotaging their missions and the same runekavle that Horatio removed from him earlier. Something is up and Marco got a bad feeling that someone got bigger plans of their own and Horatio might not know about it to stop it. Marco heard someone coming and flip the light off and climb back up into the air duct and crawled away. He wasn't sure if they checked the room but he wasn't going to stick around and see who it is and kept going forward. He checked rooms and hallways and paused again when he saw Horatio hurrying down the hallway with Poe and leaned to the side to see Bronco guarding the door. He's can feel it, he's getting close and he moved quietly as he can to their room and looked through the air duct. There they are, all three of them safe and sound and Fio sitting up on the bed. Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin he found one day while he out doing errands for himself. He held the coin in his fingers and started doing morse code against the vent's cover. Tarma heard it and held his hand up to Eri and Fio to stay quiet and crept toward the vent cover and inspect it over on how to open it. Marco slipped the coin through the vent cover and Tarma grabbed it to unscrew the bolts and remove the cover. Marco pulled himself through and Tarma helped him up. “Major, boy we're glad to see you. We were just talking about how we would escape this room if you were with us right now.” Tarma grinned at him and Marco smiled back. “Here I am to help out with the brainstorming. On my way here, I found their old meeting room and discovered why they want Kartu.” Marco took the paper out and it got passed around by The Squad and Marco folded it back up. Tarma frowned and shook his head, “Horatio was nothing but riddles to us but thanks for showing us that piece of paper and giving us an idea on what's going on.” “That's not the full story.” Marco said with concern in his voice and they looked at him with worry and puzzlement, “What are you talking about, Marco? What else is going on that we don't know?” Marco took a deep breath and massage his chest from the pain coming back, “Someone else is making plans behind Horatio's back and for some reason, I was a tiny piece of their plan. I even recognize the symbol that Horatio removed off of me when they carried us off to here.” They thought for awhile and then they heard The Twilight Seeker roaring and shooting beams of lightning from its mouth and wheel squealing and missiles being shot off. Eri ran toward the window and saw a Slug tank running the beast in circles while three small figures fought it and The Grims off. “It's Trevor and he brought the rest to rescue us.” She reported and they heard loud thumping, the wall shaking hard enough to knock paintings off their nails, and muffled talking from the other side. Then there was a loud thud and the rattling of the door knob. “It's locked. Time to kick it down, Clark.” With a mighty force of Clark's kicking, not only did he tore the door off its hinges, but he shattered it in two. “Hello, PF Squad and Sparrow. It's nice to see you all again.” Leona grinned while holding gun holsters, knives, and bags of grenades in each hand.

#Metal Slug #Fanfic

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twilightsmmobabies · 8 years ago

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Going Home

When the search for Sarlost is done, Lan lingers in Aszuna - there’s a very old friend she needs to say good-bye to...

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

The cackle of seagulls (Light does he hate seagulls now) flood into Pyke’s tent just as she enters, accenting the noise with the soft clink of saronite. He doesn’t have to pretend to be surprised by Lan - he knows how she operates, keeping herself as quiet and unseen as possible. Halcyon was probably sitting on some bluff three kilometers away just to keep him from making a scene like last time.

There was no need for her secrecy. Pyke knew that, Lan knew that - but she was stubborn and just as set in her ways as any other elf. She always liked things to go her certain way. The sight of her as he looks up from his maps and diagrams brings an old ache to his chest, an old wound that still resonated now and then.

He can’t believe what’s happened to her - he wished he could have wrung out the details from Rafad, but there was nothing for it. The man didn’t remember much from the incident, and he was loathe to try and recall. Pyke wasn’t about to force it, but Light above… His heart twisted at the sight of her now, at those red eyes that used to only appear under duress. Pyke wants to talk to her about it, wants to know - but he knows Lan too well. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, and not a moment sooner.

Lan strides her way up to his desk and plants her hands on her hips. Pyke removes his reading glasses and leans back, his own armor clinking. He wishes he didn’t have to wear it all the time; it made his joints ache more than the pen. He puts on a smile, trying to avoid looking into her eyes, slightly ashamed of the memories that flash behind his own when he does: “To what do I owe this, Lanny? Tea, again? I’m sorry I haven’t been much help in your search.”

“We found him,” Lan offers. Her hands shift from her hips to her arms as they cross over her chest. That old Argent tabard wrinkles under the plate. Pyke watches her fingers - they twitch gently. Upset. Reluctant. He knows all of Lanny’s signs, all too well. “It’s… a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Pyke admits. “If you’ve the time that is.” He gestures to a folding chair by her side. Normally reserved for Perry and his reports, or whichever liason the Illidari sent him that week, or a soldier that needed disciplining. Lan doesn’t take the seat - ever the soldier, she keeps her back straight and feet planted.

There’s a pause. Pyke knows what’s coming, he can see it on her face.

“I’m going back, Warren.”

Pyke sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “I figured,” he says quietly. He scratches at his beard (it needs a trim, Light above the men are starting to call him a bear). “You did say you weren’t staying long. You’ve an inn to tend and… aah…” He folds his hands in his lap. Over the years emotions were getting harder and harder to hide. “How did you like Aszuna, hon?”

“Windy,” Lan comments. She’s staring him down, eyes flickering. Studying him the same way he studies her, looking for the subtle changes in his expression or where the wrinkles crinkle worst. They know each other far too well to keep secrets. “The birds were more atrocious than the naga.”

“Agreed,” Pye rasps. “If I could do away with anything, it’d be the gulls - nasty things will eat even the rations.”

“I’m sorry I cannot stay, Pyke,” Lan tells him. Her voice is quiet. Pyke can’t imagine her the way Rafad described - stoic, stone-faced, so monotone. She’d changed in ways he couldn’t comprehend and that made his heart twist even more. “I do not wish to deal with the Ebon Blade or the Silver Hand or... anyone, really. What I am cannot be hidden, not anymore; and I’ll not ask you to risk your lives for my defense.”

“You wouldn’t need to ask,” Pyke points out, seriousness heavy in his tone. “There’s no secret to me where your loyalties lie Lanny, not anymore. Back then…” Back then Gadrien had been the driving force - the spearhead in making sure Lan lived with the Crusade. He sold himself to the Ebon Blade for her - and he would have sold himself to far worse things (the lovesick idiot). Lan had ended up paying Gadrien’s debt to the Ebon Blade with her own self, but those ties were severed now, and needed to stay that way.

“I didn’t ask for it back then, either,” Lan shoots back, frowning. She looks away from him, ears pinned. “But that was then, this is now; you’ve more on your plate than you can handle already, and I am no one’s weapon any longer.”

Pyke taps the arm of his reading glasses on the desk. Lan breathes an apologetic sigh, tapping her fingers against her arm. She hadn’t meant for that sudden tense air. Pyke forgives her. Touchy subjects.

Lan digs into a side pouch a moment later, setting something from it down on the table between them with the soft rasp of paper on paper. Pyke picks it up, turns the letter between his hands. It’s not in Lan’s hand, and the address isn’t in a language Pyke knows - there isn’t any seal, either; just a lump of wax.

“It’s for Adal,” Lan says.

“You could give it to him yourself,” Pyke points out dryly. Adal? “I’m not your carrier boy, hon.”

Lan frowns. “It’s not a letter from me,” she offers in her defense. Her arms cross again, and she’s clicking her armor together. Defensive. Flustered. Annoyed. The way her cheeks heat up blue brings back memories. “I… think it’s from his family. Light knows how it ended up in my postbox but it’s the only conclusion I can draw. It’s of no use to me; I cannot read it - but he should have it.”

Pyke grimaces. Well, he can’t read it either; not that he was intending to. He shrugs and decides, “I’ll see he gets it.” He sets the letter aside, on a stack of papers. “I’m guessing you’re not going to see him before you go, then.”

“No,” Lan says quietly. “I think… that would not be good. For either of us.”

“And what makes you think that?”

Lan curls her lip. Annoyed at him for prying. “I’m leaving, Pyke. I don’t wish to complicate it further.”

Pyke blinks at her. He understands where she’s coming from, but… “Fine, fine,” he decides. “Be stubborn, though you know better.” Pyke doesn’t want to dwell on this too long - he could sit the woman down for a whole afternoon for a lecture, but he can’t. Neither of them have the time to put aside for that - it doesn’t stop him from really wanting to, though.

He stands up from his desk and stretches, knuckling his back. Pyke rounds the desk to Lan’s side and touches her arm, smiling up at her. “Just… don’t forget what I said, yeah? I don’t get to dole out the advice often.”

“Liar,” Lan sighs. She pats his hand affectionately. “That’s all you do.”

And then she leans in and hugs him. Pyke doesn’t resist the urge to wrap his arms around her, doesn’t stop himself from shaking just a little, from trying to squeeze her tightly. He wants to keep her here - he wanted to keep them all here. His love and Gadrien and Popzi were dead, Alsanna was stuck in Val’sharah… When Lan walked away from this, when would he see her again? He’d lost too many. He doesn’t want to lose any more.

Lan lets him have that bittersweet moment, lets him cry and doesn’t judge him for it. Pyke knows the same thoughts are in her head, even if she’s too stubborn to cry. They hold each other for a while, it seems - not wanting to let go for their own reasons - until finally Lan’s grip slackens, and Pyke’s does too. He holds her hands for a moment, letting that eerie warmth touch his chest - and then he lets her go.

“I won’t forget what you said,” she promises, quietly.

Pyke scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Good,” he says, blinking up at her. “Don’t. Seeing you has been a welcome respite from all of this, hon; I’d hate for it to go to waste on your stubbornness.”

Lan chuckles, giving Pyke a smile. A rare thing from her nowadays, apparently. It fades - and she looks at him, that long searching look of hers. Her hands are still, but her face says it all. My next words have Meaning and Purpose. And they do:

“Take care of yourself, old man.”

Pyke’s voice is shaky. “I will,” he promises.

Lan gives no indication that she took his tone as anything other than the tremulous emotion of the moment - she wouldn’t do otherwise even if she did see something else there. She stamps her feet together and salutes. Pyke salutes back - and then she turns on her heel and leaves. The tent flap opens to the scream of seagulls and the smell of the sea and cookfire, and then it shuts again, and Pyke is alone.

Pyke leans back against his desk, heart beating in his ears and chest aching as if she were still pulling at the old wound. Tears run down his face. The ghosts of the past clung heavily to Lan - but she was shedding them, if slowly. Putting them aside. Healing. He’s so proud of her for it; like he’s looking at his own daughter. It’d always been that way.

One day she would be as close to herself as she’ll ever be, and Pyke knows deep down in his heart he won’t be there to see it. His eyes are too old to see anything but reports and war and battle, and the memorials of those he cared for. His name would be on that list too, one day. He was getting too old for this.

Pyke knows where he’ll find his peace - but if there’s one thing he prays for, its Lan finding hers. If that happens to lie with a town of undead misfits and a half-blind leper… well, Pyke wasn’t about to question the Light.

He touches a hand to his chest. The strange feeling fades.

Back to work, before Perry brings ten more things to do...

#writings #lady lanfear #pyke #rafad gets +1 letter from mother tee hee

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[RF] The Gazing Flower

Wake up, clean up, work, eat, sleep.

She did not had to leave her house to enjoy life. Her home, was also her office. She was one of the few residents still living on the tallest apartment in the neighbourhood. Her office overlooked at a roofless restaurant surrounded by other empty apartments and palm trees around.

A long, grey, and quiet hallway would greet the brave people who took the metallic trap box of an elevator. The brown dusty carpet on the floor lead the people to her door. She would clean parts of the carpet weekly to make it known that someone was there, in between the dirt. A welcome mat stood outside of her wooden door. Next to the mat, a Weeping Fig named Ördek stood tall. Its puffy and green leaves were slowly reaching for the roof with every passing season.

She had removed her name tag from the side of the door bell permanently, to right below the peephole after it went missing one morning. Now, a bronze metal was screwed to the door that shined with her name; Dr. Özlem Karadağ.

Özlem would greet the clients herself, if her little girl was not around. A smile she practiced longer than her job would be on Özlem’s lips moments before opening the door. A tall wooden hanger stood next to the door that was mainly empty. Her clients would often carry their jackets and bags with them inside the office. On her first year of practice, she realized people who were anxious and depressed often needed a familiar object to reattach them with reality. Inside, the door opened to a short hallway. Flowers of all shapes and sizes decorated each side of the empty wall. She had photos of her daughter, and a few landscape photos taken by her over the years. One end of the corridor lead to Özlem’s own bedroom, adjacent to her daughter’s smaller room that was occupied every weekend. It was decorated with cutouts of rainbow and various animals. On their first week of moving in, her daughter borrowed a blue marker and a piece of paper to notify any passerby with her own hand writing; Aylin’s Room. The paper was taped on to the white door, which would fall down with almost every swing.

The visitors peaked at her corridor, to take a glimpse at the lifestyle of their psychiatrist. Özlem then would gesture them to a small opening behind an arch that lead to her office.

Özlem did want to keep the decorations simple at first. There was a beige couch for those who wanted to lay down. She sat on a red chair in front of the couch. She had a work desk during her off hours to work on reports, and to keep her leather notebook in between sessions. A short, yet wide table seperated the couch with her seat for those who wanted to rest their legs. A kettle on a small cupboard would finish running moments before every appointment. Single use tea and coffee packets were available next to the sugar cubes.

Although she wanted to fill the cupboard with actual cups, Özlem got tired of picking new and special ones rather quickly. There was only a handful of them now. She first pick out what was popular on TV that year for their decorations, but all became rather dull in colour as the years passed. A colleague suggested her to pick ones with motivational quotes on them. Özlem did not want to give false hope to her clients. It was not her job to make people happy. Books of various genres slowly began to take more space on the cupboard than glasses.

The ones who sat on the couch were able to take a peak at the restaurant below through a wide window. It was alive every day of the week, from morning to late at night. The laughter and chatter of the crowd below helped her patients to escape their minds even if it was momentarily.

The once plain walls saw many changes throughout the years. She had a map of the world behind her chair, right where the clients faced. Then she moved it a little bit higher, to hang a plank on the wall for her flowers. It was only a few lines of carefully cut wood at first. Her flowers grew in numbers as the years passed. Once the house had enough flowers, she would take Aylin with her on a road trip, to Özlem’s village where her parents lived.

During her first introduction with a new patient, Özlem would try to match them with a flower in her mind, then she would place their flower in front of the window before every appointment. She named them all based on a specific word her clients had said previously.

Her new favourite flower was a white Orchid that was not for a patient, but a gift for her after a conference she attended recently. Özlem was invited as a speaker by an old professor to talk about the ways her patients dealt with the anxieties of terminally ill patients. Although Özlem thought she bombed the speech, many of her colleagues had approached her afterwards to give their praise.

The flower itself was a gift from the widower of a famous psychiatrist. Özlem and the woman only chatted for a brief moment at the end of the conference, yet she found the Orchid waiting by her door with a “Thank You” card.

The nameless Orchid stood tall on a table by the window, occupying most of the space. The flower for that hour’s patient stayed in the shadow of the Orchid, listening to the patient with Özlem.

Today, it was a sun flower seed that was growing for a few months. While Adil the Fifth was still some time away from producing any seeds, it had finally given out yellow leaves that turned itself over the couch. The brown and rough disk on the center stared at the two human.

A man was sitting in front of Özlem today. His hands met above his khaki pants. His thumbs fought each other as he thought about words to say. His dark brown eyes took a tour around the room. It never stared at Özlem for long, but she kept hers on the man through the appointment.

His eyes found the world map still hanging on the violet wall as he prepared himself to speak. A blue vein that was pulsing in rage above his eye brows slowly calmed down. Gray lines of his hair shined in the summer heat. Whatever left from his old brown hair was slowly succumbing itself to the grayness with each passing week. He was full of life just four months ago when he first knocked on her door. As the sessions continued, he only gave details about himself during his outbursts.

“At least she is still letting me see my kids.” He spoke calmly.

“Of course. That is your parental right.” Özlem replied. “Have you planned anything with them?”

“I wanted to take them on a resort.” He scratched the wrinkles that had appeared recently by his eyes.

“Maybe to İzmir. My son loves his history, and my daughter enjoys the water. She will become a great swimmer one day.”

“Will you go?”

“I really do want to leave.” His eyes turned towards the two flowers bathing under the afternoon sun. “It would be good for me too, I suppose. I am planning on taking an unpaid leave from work.”

“But?”

“I don’t want to drop dead on vacation, and leave my kids all alone. The doctors are not giving me a clear time table. They first said it would take 10 weeks for the cancer to make me bed bound. It’s been eighteen, and I can still walk. I even run in the mornings.”

“How do you feel during your runs?”

“I have the energy of my son, with the back pains of my dad. I run twenty minutes before cramps hit my leg.”

“But what do you feel during those twenty minutes? Do you feel free? Do you get tired? Nauseous? The couch you sat on saw a lot of tears from people before you.”

“I will not cry.” The man said. The vain had appeared above his brows once again.

“It is a perfectly normal response.”

“I have a killer following me everywhere, and there is nothing I can do. It is more frustrating than normal. I run because that’s what a normal human does to relax, not because I want to outrun the illness when I know I can’t. I know I am dying. I know I may not wake up the next time I go to bed. I know today might be the last time I will ever see my kids. I know the kiss I gave to them may have been the last. The beer I drank yesterday might be the last. The goodbye kiss I got from my girlfriend this morning might be the last. I know all those things, and it is not fair to them.”

“What makes you think life is fair?”

The man moved his eyes towards Özlem. They were open wide as he struck his brows to think. “I worked hard to be where I am in life.” He spoke after a moment. “My wife… my ex-wife, and I lived in a one bedroom apartment not far from here for half a decade before I began making a proper living. I didn’t bought her current house by slacking. I put my blood and sweat to give my kids the life they deserved.”

“Yet, you did not provide the same love for your wife.”

The man turned his eyes to the sun flower during his reply. “I don’t think she did the same for me either. She filed for divorce months after she learned about the affair. She was gone as soon as my wage tripled.”

“Do you think she was right to leave?”

“I did beg for forgiveness.”

“Before or after your diagnosis?” Özlem doodled on her notebook.

“Both times.” The man smiled. His fingers reached for the sun flower leaves momentarily. “I didn’t want to start over again with a new woman, I suppose.” The man’s words were cut short with the clock on the wall quietly ranging. Özlem got up first, and the man followed as they slowly walked out to the corridor.

“Thank you for coming today. Think about what we talked until our next meeting.”

“If I am still standing.” The man mumbled.

“You are stronger than you believe. Much more stronger.” Özlem smiled as she opened the outside door.

“Thank you for having me.”

Özlem sat on the stairs of the building’s fire escape during her supper. She had a few extra bottles of beer on the side, and a plate on her lap. Her feet dropped on air as the warm evening breeze hit her face with the sunlight. She drank and ate with the patrons of the restaurant below. It was not long before the neighbourhood cats smelled the meat and cried for her on the ground.

“You again?” She smiled at the gray cat. Another ginger furred one watched her silently.

“Meow.” The gray cat responded.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Özlem picked a piece of meat to drop on the ground.

“Meow.” The ginger cat watched the gray one eat.

“Here.” She tried to drop the next piece closer towards the ginger.

One beer was to escape from the heat. Two to forget about her daily patients. Three beers made her mind fuzzy, and allowed her to walk without thinking for long. She left her apartment when the grey streets were lit by lamps and the moonlight above. Music blasted on the narrow streets of Kadıköy. Every turn brought new and different melodies. She could feel their echoes on her ears. She chose a pub built underground as her destination, with dark walls and playing music to push her on the dance floor. She did not speak other than ordering more drinks. She danced for hours before coming back home alone.

The door bell woke her up the next morning. She still had her clothes on from last night. She noticed her messy hair on the mirror before leaving the bedroom.

The door bell rang once again.

“One moment, please.” Özlem yelled as she ran to the bathroom at the other end of the corridor.

The door bell rang again.

“I will be right there!” She responded as she quickly threw water on her face, and combed her hair. She grabbed a towel on her hands as she walked over the door. There was no one on the other end of the peephole, but she still opened it.

“Mommy!” Aylin jumped on Özlem to give her a hug.

“You are early, hun.”

“Daddy said he had a last minute meeting come up as he was packing for his vacation.”

When Özlem looked at the end of the hallway, she saw the elevator doors closing on a man. She could make out the colours of navy blue T-shirt she once bought before the sliding metallic doors met each other.

“I see.” Özlem grabbed her daughter’s backpack from Aylin’s shoulders, and held her hand as they got inside. “Did you had your breakfast yet? I am starving.”

“I did.” She stared at her mom with big eyes. She had gotten Özlem’s wavy black hair, but those green eyes that gazed one’s soul were definitely from her dad. “Sarah got me this new colouring book, and we went to the zoo yesterday.”

“Well, tell me all about it.” Özlem sat Aylin on the kitchen table as she grabbed the ingredients.

Wake up, clean up, work, eat, sleep.

Özlem did not had to leave her house to enjoy her life. She taught Aylin how to take care of the flowers during the day, and Aylin would question her about random ones around the house. Özlem could listen to her little mess talk for hours. She read books out loud every night as Aylin fell asleep on her chest.

Original post was removed for a mistake on my end. Here it is again. It was an interesting experience to write a Slice of Life short after losing myself in so much Sci-Fi/fantasy.

submitted by /u/HydraVea [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/361mhE3

#Blogger #Story

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fuegosdeoctubree-blog · 6 years ago

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Serach the above acne website. Many of the acne treatments take care of oily skin far too. So I would propose 1st you treat your pimples challenge. Numerous many thanks, I sit up for trying these masks. I make my own cheese, and wash my face Using the whey - It's also great - I would try combining it now with a few within your mask components! Thanks Do you have any recipes for terrible acne working with cinnamon and coconut oil? I really want assist for my seriously actually lousy acne.. You may use this moisturizing mask several occasions every week when you’d like. It’s really Mild on this skin. Combined with other effective nutrients from other all-natural elements, we are able to formulate powerful banana face masks which will help in resolving different skin troubles, for example combating wrinkles, eradicating pimples, skin brightening and several more. Hello I have a wrinkles beneath my eyes that is far more working day by day kindly advise me that may I take advantage of Uncooked banana by mashing it two times every day, Is that this helpful? Many thanks much for this! I’m 32 and used the mask to “battle wrinkles”. I didn’t have OJ so I employed a vitamin C capsule rather in the combination. SO Wonderful. Promptly after my skin appears plump and radiant, at the very least experience 5 years younger three. https://www.wikihow.com/Make-Face-Masks-out-of-Fruit is often a normal moisturiser which aids in maintaining skin smooth and supple. I always use 2-3 drops of normal moisturiser in face packs to help keep the contents very well well balanced so the mask won't strip the purely natural humidity and hydration from my skin. Hello chandni…plz enable me can i continue to keep milk right away on my face wil it have ny sideeffcts i utilize milk with cotton n keep it right away n sumtimes i evn rub a Computer of banana above it n wash it in d morng…plzz lemme knw wil it hve ny sideefcts…wtng fr ur response Fights free of charge radical problems, bolsters the skin’s UV resistance, helps prevent and reduces the appearance of wrinkles. Is aptly often known as "the protector." Raw honey by alone is Beautiful, but you can also mix and match other foods-dependent ingredients to tailor your mask towards your special skin style. I had read and tried out banana masks just before. But these are distinct and it seems good. I'd not thought of the orange juice prior to. I could give it a attempt . And how to care daily program fir my below eye skin to maintain it younger for extended several years. Please help me…. Elizabeth would be the founder and inventive director within the Nourished Life. Her mission is to help people find a more balanced (much less tense!) method of residing a cheerful, wholesome daily life. Read more details on Elizabeth in this article.

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You presently know the amount I love my coconut oil for the skin. I use coconut oil for allthethings, but I In particular love working with it for skincare. Adhere to the usual Recommendations for implementing the mixture to the face: Wash your face and pat it dry. Amazing hub. I am a Skin therapist myself And that i exam quite a bit of different skin care goods out there nowadays. I do nevertheless agree with also generating your very own selfmade skin care recipes! https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=beauty+tips does get the job done and Lots of people Will not realize how very good egg whites are for your skin! Thx for sharing! Great occupation! This Internet site supplies a piece at the bottom of each overview wherever users of This page can provide their reviews. We are not chargeable for and do not assure the accuracy of the information supplied by any third party. You should use about 3 teaspoons of lemon juice, and if you would like ensure it is a peel-off, just insert some lotion onto your face and wait around a couple of minutes, then put the mask on. In a very cleanse mixing bowl, whisk collectively the egg white and lemon juice until eventually the combination becomes frothy. The lemon juice masks the odour in the egg white. Insert ½ teaspoon of honey and stir properly. This is certainly applied to collect details on visitors to content together with other pages on our web-site. Unless that you are signed in to a HubPages account, all Individually identifiable data is anonymized. I had all the substances for that pimple preventing mask, made it, and utilized it! I must say it DOES NOT have a pleasant smell in any respect, but my skin feels so clean and refreshing! I utilized jojoba oil afterward to moisturize. Terrific recipe! I'd leftover so I will freeze it and use it following time. @vishnum969: In fact, egg white is highly powerful For several skin circumstances like acne prone skin and aging skin. This excellent mask is rather effective in getting rid of excess face oils. In case you have dry skin, remember to refrain from making use of this drying and tightening face mask. As an alternative, Check out an egg yolk face mask recipe. Thanks for your egg white mask I'll check out it... I'm eager to see the outcome in only a few days!!! How long will I really need to use it to begin to see the outstanding results? I ponder what my Duchess will imagine all of that scrumptious egg on my face. Duchess is my attractive cat. All through this informative article, you will also uncover essential recommendations on producing and working with banana face masks. Now let's take a look at a few face masks which will advantage your skin in methods expensive chemical-laden cosmetic creams simply cannot. I never ever understood a banana may be so versatile while in the other ways You need to use it. Thank you. Voted up.

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Just remember to combine your egg white very well every time you use it (by mixing it you will get hold of a foamy egg white appear). Thank you for your personal post. I like the way. You defined the honey mask Recommendations. Your mask is simple to generate. I'm planning to attempt it in my subsequent spa therapy. I find it irresistible. Mister healmunsta. It can be genuinely up to you, you'll get a come to feel for what your skin normally takes And the way finely ground the coffee is. Leftover paste might be saved inside the fridge for many days. This can be used to discover specific browsers or equipment when the obtain the provider, and it is useful for stability factors. Orange is very helpful to your skin because it has anti-growing old, toning and astringent Attributes. This citrus fruit will help strengthen skin texture and complexion. When I was about fourteen, my hair acquired a bit oily from my actions. To help keep my hair contemporary for a longer time soon after I washed it, I'd use whipped egg white on it. I put it in my damp hair, and Allow it dry, then brushed it out. My hair experienced much more quantity as well. Don’t rub or therapeutic massage while you wash it off since you don’t want the substances to exfoliate your skin a lot more. It will eventually depart your skin dry, resulting in your oil glands to produce more sebum, which may induce much more acne! Yoghurt shares these antibacterial Attributes in addition to Carefully smooths the skin decreasing fantastic traces. An egg has lots of antioxidants which make your skin glow and obtaining Banana in the face pack provides a more nutritional significance to it. Warning: Affirm Should you be allergic to any of the substances while in the mask by implementing it on a little patch with your wrist and then await some several hours. If rashes show up or for those who exhibit other indications of allergy, don't use this mask on your face. I understood the honey and lemon ended up fantastic for your skin although not the egg whites. That is the subsequent thing I choose to test. She's an award winning dermatologist for exceptional contribution in the field of dermatology. Apart from dermatology, she is a qualified cosmetologist from renowned Harley Road, London. She has labored with a lot of the well-set up United kingdom dermatology institutes with exposure generally and specialised dermatology for eight years. Her scientific abilities consists of acne treatment, facial rejuvenation and several attributes of beauty dermatology. Caution: Kelp may be allergenic to some because of its significant iodine written content. Also, kelp can be full of metallic pollutants like guide and cadmium, considering the fact that virtually all industrial sewage and wastes are ultimately dumped in the seas. Sorry, we just must you should definitely're not a robot. For very best benefits, remember to make certain your browser is accepting cookies.

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Stick to The straightforward fifteen min remain pack time with this mask and pat dry using a clean towel. It will eventually go away your skin sensation gorgeous and sleek. No matter whether you take in them or set them with your skin, you’re bound to see an enormous modify with your complexion any time you make bananas your new best friend. When Utilized in a handy Do-it-yourself mask, bananas can nourish the skin, combined with the help of honey to absorb and keep humidity, to deeply hydrate and improve your all-natural glow. Incorporate a certain amount of warm water if required to retain the lather heading. Should the lather dies down, increase a little h2o. Just don’t insert an excessive amount of, or even the sugar will dissolve. Thanks a lot for brilliant ideas… I attempted Banana + honey + Lemon mixture face pack.. and its truly magic it started working on my face.. slowly my holes are disappearing and I'm able to see flow in my face…Thanks again Mash a ripe tomato along with the skin and blend freshly squeezed lemon juice. Implement it about the freckled skin and massage gently for approximately quarter-hour so that the combination penetrates the deep layers from the skin. Do this two periods day often. With any luck ,, the freckles will begin lightening in a few weeks time. Clean your face with a gentle cleanser. Performing this will remove any Filth and buildup before you exfoliate. Be sure to pat your face dry Carefully using a thoroughly clean, dry washcloth before making use of the sugar-baking soda mixture. I have troubled skin like clogged pores on my forehead and many blackheads on my nose, what would you recommend is the best normal remedies for extracting the Dust and oil in my pores? my skin could get dry quite effortlessly however it tends to be really oily :(( The way it do the job: Oatmeal serves for a scrub and banana smoothens the skin tone. Honey, nevertheless, is undoubtedly an optional, but it really works as a great acne cure. Increase many of the substances in a small bowl. Make use of a fork to finely mash the banana when mixing the components. When your mixture is too thick, Be happy to incorporate several drops of drinking water. I have attempted a great deal of home facials, but I've never ever heard about, or tried using a banana mask right before. This can be so interesting :). I can not wait to try it. Thanks for sharing, and you simply're shots are awesome. Spoon the mixture into your storage container and keep. Make sure https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrJNSnAWK8Y shut the lid tightly. You'll be able to keep the mixture inside your refrigerator for approximately two months. No you are able to do these. These won't have any lousy Unwanted side effects. Relatively these will beautify and soften your skin……… No person will test any facial products that will not fetch any Positive aspects. Bananas have an awesome reward on our skin. Here are incredible banana face mask recipes you Obviously, there will be no Unwanted side effects though the effort you place into your producing and endurance might go in fail. So when it's in regards to the Do it yourself face masks you need to be pretty precise with the proportions.

The Ultimate Guide To banana face mask

A fascinating illustration of a sports mask that confounds the protecting operate is definitely the wrestling mask, a mask most generally used in the Mexican/Latin lucha libre kind of wrestling. Facts: Honey has antimicrobial properties and antioxidants that happen to be beneficially sticky. This stickiness pulls away the dust, lifeless skin, and microbes with the pores although the antimicrobial Homes hold the skin from turning out to be infected once again. Software: Utilize to the areas affected with acne or it is possible to use it on The full face to be a preventative method. Retaining your skin beautiful doesn't have to cost you a fortune. You are able to commit a lot of money if you buy facial masks from boutiques and spas. No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs might be hyperlinked. Responses are certainly not for promoting your content articles or other web-sites. Masks are use by penitents in ceremonies to disguise their identification as a way to make the act of penitence additional selfless. The Semana Santa parades in the course of Spain and in Hispanic or Catholic nations around the world throughout the earth are samples of this, with their cone-shaped masks known as capirote. Oats not merely nourishes skin of all types but also absorbs excess sebum from inside of your pores as it is an absorbent. This acne-preventing mask delivers nourishing, exfoliating and cleansing Positive aspects to skin. This mask may possibly seem somewhat Unusual on this site intended for organic products, but applying Aspirin – Honey Mask for managing acne is additionally a powerful and easy Option. Get seven to 9 hrs of sleep Every night time. Not finding sufficient rest could make your skin surface dull and sallow. It also can result in bags or shadows less than your eyes. Obtaining enough rest will cut down wrinkles and underneath-eye puffiness. It will likely give you a balanced, glowing complexion.[15] This is excellent! I happen to be seeking Throughout for something like this! I'll should try Each individual recipe. Thanks for sharing!! 2. Increase coffee powder, sugar and cinnamon powder in the coconut oil and blend many of the elements alongside one another. Masks in a variety of forms (sacred, realistic, or playful) have performed a vital historical function in the event of understandings about "what it means to get human", simply because they allow the imaginative encounter of "what it's like" to be reworked into a special identification (or to affirm an existing social or spiritual id).[22] Not all cultures have regarded the use of masks, but Many of them have.[23] Masks in functionality A "shameful" mask (Schandmaske in German) is devised for general public humiliation; a favorite lowered variety are donkey ears to get a undesirable pupil or student Although they typically demonstrate qualified craftsmanship, they almost constantly deficiency the spiritual character of the standard tribal masks. Oceania

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"I are aware that almost everything in this article will operate. I am hoping for the most effective! Thank you a great deal of!" AA Abhishek Arora I have tried coffee honey nd lemon combined face pack nd it is admittedly effective to my skin….u must try out it after ?? It will give you the glow that you choose to’ve always wanted. Your superior skin care merchandise s that exist as acne creams, or cleanses, or oil equilibrium items have to incorporate this ingredient. Use the mask around your face and wait around 20 minutes. Wash it off applying lukewarm h2o, then Carefully pat your face dry having a gentle, clear towel.[22] Look at incorporating a squeeze of lemon juice to brighten your skin or reduce acne. Add a mashed up banana into the egg yolk. Peel a banana open, and cut it to smaller items with a knife. Make use of a fork to mash it to a pulp. The banana might help nourish your face. Honey, on the other hand, can be a organic humectant that helps the skin retain its humidity. It works equally as effectively as being a purely natural cleanser and exfoliant to promote clear and glowing skin. Ahhhh, The essential brown sugar scrub. There genuinely isn't really a better all-natural exfoliant than brown sugar. It won't tear the skin like oatmeal or salt can do. Moreover, it preferences delightful if it by some means makes its way into your mouth. Combining egg whites with honey and lemon juice can make a remarkably effective DIY egg white face mask for acne. Honey has potent antibacterial and anti-inflammatory Attributes that make it pretty effective towards acne. Be careful to not scratch yourself Using the egg shells. Examine Each individual egg batter for shell chips before software. Use lukewarm drinking water and a facial cleanser ideal for your skin form. You can wash your face with clear palms, a washcloth, or possibly a gentle sponge. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/722616702689548197 to up with some toner and moisturizer. Choosing filter selection will automatically update the products that are exhibited to match the selected filter alternative. To eliminate a filter, click on the “reset” or “reset all filters” button. Retain for twenty minutes and rinse off. As well as Light exfoliation, it will give you anti-oxidant and anti-inflammatory benefit and honey as normally will moisturize your skin. This super easy brown sugar scrub is exceptionally moisturizing and incorporates honey and oils. It takes advantage of Manuka honey, which happens to be made in New Zealand by bees that pollinate the Manuka bush. Manuka honey has wonderful anti-bacterial Houses, which makes it a fantastic ingredient for skin care. "My face essential somewhat assist with moisturizing, which aided me with that. " Rated this information:

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Keep it on for 15 minutes As you lie down to avoid gravity from pulling the mask downward. If the time is up, Carefully scrub off the dried mask out of your face and utilize moisturizer. A wonderful organic moisturizer is three-4 drops of olive oil. Immediately after making use of honey compresses for eight times, he uncovered the bacteria had entirely disappeared without having his having an individual antibiotic. Avocados and bananas are 2 of the most moisturizing substances located in face masks. Include the honey and you've got an ideal mask for Tremendous dry skin. Wash from the mask with lukewarm water when the time is up, and pat your face dry which has a towel. Take pleasure in the look within your moisturized skin! Supply Pueblo craftsmen produced spectacular function for masked spiritual ritual, Specially the Hopi and Zuni. The kachinas, god/spirits, usually go ahead and take kind of very distinctive and elaborate masks which are used in ritual dances. I've hardly ever heard of an egg white face mask in advance of. Overall, I am glad which i came across this hub. thanks to the recipe and some insight on how to Have a very cleaner and healthier wanting face. Voted up and shared. Hello I created the face mask but had not honey so just made it with egg and lemon I fell asleep and experienced it on a lot of the evening when I perform up and squandered it off my face was sore and pink Have you ever any suggestions be sure to These 4 honey face mask recipes use diverse further substances, according to your skin variety. They are all built with food-dependent substances which have been almost certainly within your kitchen area right now. Effortless and functional! The ideal face mask for acne can’t be procured at an expensive Section retail outlet. In reality, it only has one component and it’s possibly already inside your pantry! It’s certainly one of my own favorites: the raw honey mask. Honey, Alternatively, is usually a normal humectant that assists the skin keep its moisture. It really works just as properly for a pure cleanser and exfoliant to market apparent and glowing skin. Surgical mask, a bit of health-related products that helps to protect equally the surgeon and client from getting an infection from one another I had no idea that orange peel was so superior for your skin! Actually appealing, unquestionably a little something so as to add to my Do it yourself to-do checklist! The contrast with performance masks isn't always crystal clear-cut. Ritual and theatrical masks themselves is usually thought of as sensible, and protective masks within a sports context especially tend to be made to boost the appearance from the wearer. Health-related

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Put together for the mask by washing your face and tying your hair back again. Use heat drinking water that can help open up your pores. If you're sporting make-up, you need to acquire it off using make-up remover. Egg white has become Utilized in face mask recipes considering the fact that historic periods, especially in Asia, to achieve attractive radiant skin. You may make a mask with egg white by yourself, or it is possible to add in other impressive substances to provide much more nourishing benefits to the skin. I soaked strips of paper towel With this Option then applied it to my face to stop dripping. I see why Individuals cloth masks are so massive in Korea (These are just so difficult to get from right here in the US.) It absolutely calmed my skin even though I'll really have to repeat to begin to see the Long lasting results. . This simple banana face mask employs turmeric and baking soda that will help you get glowing skin and lessen pimples and blemishes. Remain https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5BbUHcuKxY -cost-free with frequent application. @Konya Sen: You are extremely welcome! Bananas are one of the best fruit to apply on your own face for a variety of skin problems like rough skin, aging skin and dull skin. Thanks likewise for commenting. Good posting. It is nice to grasp that there are natural ingredients within your kitchen cupboard or fridge which could double up as skin nourishment for repair service and beauty. I understood the honey and lemon ended up good to your skin although not the egg whites. That is the upcoming point I choose to try. It is actually something which the many beauty industries are actually applying within their merchandise due to it various skin Rewards. So the amount in case you moisturize? Your skin will inform you. Once your skin is limited, It is really crying out for moisture. Be careful to not more than-moisturize — This will clog pores. An orange peel face mask may well audio like a strange idea, but it really has many Rewards to supply to your skin. It is actually rich in antioxidants and vitamin C that assistance tighten and tone the skin, providing it a healthy glow. Get seven to 9 several hours of slumber each night time. Not getting sufficient snooze can make your skin appear boring and sallow. It also can end in luggage or shadows underneath your eyes. Obtaining adequate rest will decrease wrinkles and under-eye puffiness. It may also provide you with a healthy, glowing complexion.[fifteen] Hi, many thanks for The nice post! I are utilizing egg-white now for many a long time, but it absolutely was instinctive instead of acquiring read about it on line. We use cookies to make certain that we supply you with the best experience on our Web page. This consists of cookies from 3rd party social media marketing Web sites and advert networks. These kinds of 3rd party cookies may observe your use on Boldsky web sites for greater rendering. Have on an outdated t-shirt more than your clothes to prevent yellow stains from turmeric, that may be really challenging to clean off.

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Fuller’s earth or the multani mitti is undoubtedly an indigenous method to deal with a lot of skin problems. It can be organization remover of oiliness and strongly fights the blackheads. Furthermore, it dries to form a organization mask. Do you think you're drained using your acne? Defiantly. use this face mask as this mask is free from chemical compounds and perfect for daily use. As baking soda helps to open clogged pores and excessive oil. when turmeric has anti bacterial and anti viral Homes which combat versus pimples. But You should not be afraid to also use an acne merchandise if you want it. At times the acne will not disappear fully by 'natural' means regardless of what you do, particularly if you happen to be young, considering the fact that your hormones can just be much too away from stability at that age. Aloe Vera Gel with at the least 90% pure aloe barbadensis leaf juice in it really is great for sunburned or irritated skin. Aloe vera is recognized for its healing Houses and can do miracles with the skin. Tend not to choose your pimples. You can make the inflammation even worse and you've got a way increased chance of getting a scar even following it goes away. There are https://www.pinterest.com/pin/722616702689548172 of good strategies for finding rid of pimples on this page on wikiHow. Cinnamon can occasionally be irritating if your skin is admittedly sensitive, so it is advisable to do a patch check within the back of your hand to start with. marketing all sorts of oranges. Every single time which i head to the market for browsing, I don’t overlook to pick a packet of oranges to quench my like for this favorite fruit of mine. So, by now you will need to have understood that now’s publish is about how to help make an efficient face mask for oily skin working with this surprise fruit. https://www.facebook.com/steptoremedies/posts/2099806783445924 have already been making use of orange due to the fact ages to pamper their skin and it is probably the tricks driving flawless skin For lots of Girls, who don't just consume it on a regular basis, but will also implement it in many types like pulp, juice and even during the dry peel powder kind on their skin. Disclaimer: TheHealthSite.com would not assurance any particular results because of the processes described right here and the outcomes may perhaps vary from person to person. Mix all the above mentioned ingredients in a little bowl. Apply a thick coat of the mixture onto your clean face. Let it sit for quarter-hour or till it dries out. I undergo dry, sensitive, blemished matured skin that dislike chemical substances. I'm unquestionably striving the peel/coconut ouT ideal thru; do I halt the peel after the blemishes are out & cleared?, how/ with what do I cleanse these skin?, any moisturising & sunblock strategies? Cheers! Egg whites is usually saved for afterwards use. But it's best to maintain them while in the freezer. That might be considered a process to get it again to liquid type at place temperature for facial software. 3. Honey is usually a pure moisturiser which allows in trying to keep skin delicate and supple. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGHy_hzq6wA use 2-3 drops of all-natural moisturiser in face packs to maintain the contents well well balanced so that the mask doesn't strip the purely natural moisture and hydration from my skin. . Any more than that and you also’ll be dripping honey far and wide! I'd a problem with dripping at the outset, but after I Slash again on the level of honey I applied, the challenge resolved alone. In addition to that it’s a little bit more economical like that, as well! Don’t rub or massage while you wash it off as you don’t want the substances to exfoliate your skin far more. It can go away your skin dry, producing your oil glands to supply a lot more sebum, which can trigger extra acne!

The Greatest Guide To skin care

We could use conversion monitoring pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Advertisements, and Facebook so as to identify when an advertisement has efficiently resulted in the specified motion, for instance signing up with the HubPages Assistance or publishing an article around the HubPages Company. @Konya Sen: You are really welcome! Bananas are one of the best fruit to use in your face for a number of skin issues such as tough skin, growing older skin and dull skin. Thanks at the same time for commenting. Banana definitely aids in finding vibrant, reasonable and youthful skin. I use clean banana pulp on my skin every day and it grants my skin a tremendous lustre over a facial may give. By marketing blood circulation in the skin, orange peel powder encourages a nutritious rosy-coloured tone in skin. Improved circulation enables nutrients while in the blood to reach the skin cells and nourish it. To open up your pores, You may also have A fast splash with heat drinking water as a substitute to steaming. It seems honey also By natural means absorbs extra oil, which allows protect against acne – and Which means one among the main advantages of honey on skin is You can utilize it instead of quite a few chemical-laden above-the-counter acne creams and ointments.” – from Honey Colony Since these egg white masks are typically runny and will drip, put on an previous T-shirt to avoid spoiling your excellent outfits. I under no circumstances understood a banana may very well be so flexible while in the other ways You should use it. Thank https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Facemask . Voted up. Turmeric powder and orange juice have powerful skin-lightening Attributes and make this mask an unbelievably powerful treatment for acne scars and dark spots, much too. Hello, I've oily skin, extremely susceptible to acne, so much so that I can’t try to remember a time Once i had distinct skin….. will the banana mask nonetheless Focus on my skin??? I continue to keep having Energetic acne which leaves darkish and deep spots, creating my skintone uneven. Your skin will sense sleek and comfortable straight away, but it may well take a handful of programs to notice a true variance in scars and spots. Around many weeks and months, You might even see a putting difference in the looks of the skin. Right after eliminating this mask consider an ice cube cover it that has a thoroughly clean cloth and implement this into your face as it's going to clog the open up pores and gives you a clean searching skin. @salamat: Use at the time each and every three times and function your way up to when each two times. Never use day by day, as orange peel is actually a potent, exfoliating and peeling ingredient. The real key is to implement it continually for at least a month in advance of having significantly radiant and glowing skin. You'll want to use these masks on clean, dry face. Wash your face right before to eliminate the Filth and microbes on the skin.

What Does strawberry face mask Mean?

@IntimatEvolution: Thanks! Natural magnificence is much safer than chemical cosmetics and I'm really keen on them. I only use a person egg each time and probably use only half of it because it doesn’t take Significantly to go over the area. Should you’re about to help you save the egg white for an additional software then maintain it while in the fridge. Honey's powerful antibacterial motion can get rid of present acne and stop any even more unwelcome pimples. https://www.wikihow.com/Make-All-Natural-Face-Masks ’s also a pleasant or gentle scrub much too. Allow it keep for ten or 15 minutes. During the meanwhile do some skipping rope right after this wash your face and pat dry. So it truly moisturizes your skin, Command extra oil, get rid of acne. It also brightens your skin so What's more, it actually great for growing older skin. Making use of orange peel for skin care has numerous Added benefits, amongst which is cutting down blemishes, especially when combined with honey. This really is my ‘head over to’ face mask if I come to feel my skin turning into a little also oily, or if I'm struggling from an outbreak. I swear by it. Drinking a good level of water on a daily basis assists lots. Also, clean your face and get off all make-up every single night. To finish your registration make sure you enter the verification code you been given on the cellular. If you have not gained the verification code, make sure you SMS REWARDME to 9223347100 I choose The actual Darling face mask by means of Leader Tresses Skin shade therapies with their epidermis face cleaner. Actually helpful many thanks !! see in this article my article key for flawless skin ... Just gonna say below, you will be lacking out by not using the yolk. I defeat one particular egg nicely and place it in a little glass jar for storage in my fridge. Every early morning I just take it out and generously apply it all over my face. Orange, full of Vitamin C, is the best all rounder On the subject of your skin. From your peel to the juice all perform in the absolute best approaches to help keep you glowing and wholesome. "I know that all the things in this article will operate. I'm hoping for the most effective! https://twitter.com/steptoremedies/status/1087123555727405058 of!" AA Abhishek Arora Orange is really a fruit which includes the goodness of ascorbic acid that provides excellent alternatives to a lot of skin worries like blackheads, blemishes and excess sebum. Refreshing fruits and bouquets are the ideal choices of Mom Mother nature to us; oranges are so simply obtainable presently, so Why don't you get the top out of the fruit? Enable’s swiftly make an amazing and simple face mask and pamper our skin. So now, without squandering A great deal time, Permit’s proceed and get ready this type of face mask for oily skin.

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Use your preferred moisturizer. Give your skin a last handle by massaging your preferred moisturizer into your face and neck. :D um definitely hoping to have a wonderful result since um truly quite amazed by your procedures…:D if i eradicate my facial issues I'll Allow you are aware of for sure In shaa ALLAH…^_^ may ALLAH bless you and retain you joyful usually….:D voila!!! Be careful never to scratch by yourself Together with the egg shells. Verify Every egg batter for shell chips just before application. darker complexion leaves black blemish and she or he is extremely susceptible to acne. Works by using neem powder combined with Uncooked honey but these days seems like will make her skin really dry but acne would not manage to prevent . Orange is extremely beneficial on your skin mainly because it has anti-getting old, toning and astringent properties. This citrus fruit can help strengthen skin texture and complexion. It is actually rather typical awareness that oranges absolutely are a godsend for your skin. What isn’t emphasised home remedies via steptoremedies , nevertheless, is With regards to rejuvenating your lackluster skin, probably the most potent Element of the fruit is, in fact, it’s peel. Application: Use a layer with the apple honey mask on the total face. Watch for 10 to fifteen minutes and Permit the mask dry up a little bit. Following that, wash the mask off Using the lukewarm drinking water and anticipate the final results! Deciding on sorting option will automatically update the products which are exhibited to match the selected sorting possibility Prevent putting the mixture on broken skin. For those who have any cuts or open acne with your face, avoid making use of the scrub to People places because the lemon juice will sting them. On top of that, the friction from applying the scrub may make your acne worse. Serach the above acne site. A lot of the acne therapies choose care of oily skin far too. So I would propose 1st you deal with your pimples trouble. (the scientific identify with the widespread sort of acne) is undoubtedly an almost common trouble, with almost Anyone on the planet struggling from some form (delicate or serious), sooner or afterwards inside their lives. eyerid serum is finest therapies for make skin glowing and comfortable i am also making use of that same solution believe in me within a single week i bought astounding final result. Strategy: Have a ripe banana and mash it with a spoon or a fork in a very bowl till it forms a easy lump absolutely free pulp. Incorporate one tsp. of honey and one tsp. of lemon juice and mix the ingredients comprehensively. Clean your face which has a gentle cleaning soap and make use of a gentle towel to pat it dry. I just used egg whites only, can it be alright? Is it productive even theres no honey or lemon but an egg whites only? In addition to, Is that this ideal for Youngsters like 15 years previous to work with this sort?

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recipes...smoked salmon and avocado egg white muffinswhilst I have been to California and as a result know all about the notorious 'egg-white omelette' i've hardly ever really cooked savoury recipes with liquid egg "I love some actually uncomplicated approach to consider care the skin by DIY, for the reason that I am a beginner in caring for skin." KB Kathryn Bernardo Common acne may occur resulting from specified hormonal exercise through the teenage many years that in many cases are associated with the doorway into puberty. This hormonal exercise generally helps make the regulation on the sebaceous gland to malfunction, abruptly creating substantial amounts of sebum. This really is why prevalent acne is most often present in teenagers. Once the openings of those sebum glands are blocked, the sebum can not escape and it commences depositing alone below the skin pores, earning them glance red and swollen. Simultaneously, it really is thought to be a accountability for the organization to offer the customers with Price tag-successful goods. This mask may perhaps look considerably strange on This great site designed for natural and organic solutions, but applying Aspirin – Honey Mask for treating acne is usually a powerful and straightforward Resolution. This is among the most finish mask inside our guidebook, mainly because it's each a scrub along with a nourishing procedure. You will want floor coffee beans, as much cocoa powder, two times as much dairy or almond milk, a tablespoon olive oil - You may also use almond oil or, Should you have oily skin, lemon juice - and a tablespoon honey, which can be skipped When you are at risk of acne. Supply wikiHow is often a wiki similar to Wikipedia, which means that lots of of our article content are created collaboratively. To create this information, 84 people, some anonymous, worked to edit and boost it with time. Categories: Egg Face Masks As you are able to see, using an orange peel face mask has many benefits that do the job for different skin forms. Whatever you require it for, orange peel powder is unquestionably a blessing. Tech and M. Tech (Chemical Engineering) from IIT Bombay and has actually been actively crafting about health and diet since about previous 12 decades. When not Functioning he likes to trek and do gardening. Employing orange peel for skin care has a number of Rewards, one among and that is cutting down blemishes, particularly when combined with honey. Connected Queries for face mask: kids face mask fishing face mask cartoon face mask clinical mask monkey face mask beard face mask kevlar face mask nurse face mask breathable face mask water-resistant face mask antibacterial face mask plague health care provider mask mouth mask rather face masks 3m n95 mask Additional... Creator Details Incorporate lemon juice to your egg white. You will require 2 teaspoons of lemon juice. The lemon juice will work as a pure astringent and aid remove the acne and blackhead-resulting in bacteria. It may additionally support lighten your skin.[2]

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Now, many of the recipes down below are more potent and may only be utilised one-two instances a week. Others You should use each day. stepto remedies ’ve produced notes for how frequently Every single mask ought to be employed. Be certain to not smile or speak with the face mask on! This can extend your skin across the mouth and eyes and truly bring about wrinkles to kind. Immediately refreshes the skin, lessens the dimensions of pores, balances pH amount during the face, protects skin for trapping pollution and mud in everyday life. [2] Moreover, orange peel also contains potassium that can help the skin keep its dampness and magnesium that can help combat skin getting older induced by mobile oxidative damage. Suffice to convey then, the rightful spot for orange peels just isn't within your trash can but inside your beauty routine. Blend steptoremedies.com in a blender or with a fork and spoon. Utilize to face, rinse off right after ten minutes. Just after applying honey compresses for 8 days, he observed the microbes experienced fully disappeared with out his getting a single antibiotic. Follow the standard instructions for making use of the mixture in your face: Clean your face and pat it dry. three. The face scrub should not be drippy. Never incorporate additional olive oil, as this will likely dissolve the sugar. Incorporating much too minimal olive oil could make your face scrub tough and dry which can trigger skin redness. Also, it tends to make absorption of topical vitamins difficult. As a result, exfoliation should be the first step ahead of employing a normal banana mask. Next, research in animals exhibit that vitamin C can be absorbed with the skin within an acidic ecosystem. It could be advantageous to include within an acid (like lemon or citrus of some sort) to really encourage vitamin C absorption.” These face mask recipes are simple to make at your home, using frequent elements out there inside your kitchen. Orange peel is nutrient-prosperous and it has several Advantages for skin, not just skin lightening. Several solutions available – which include moisturizers, facials, conditioners – consist of avocado oil as it provides an incredible source of several significant nutrients which help moisturize your skin. Honey has astounding antibacterial Attributes that aid sooth irritation and persuade the growth of new skin tissue. Cinnamon can often be irritating If the skin is really delicate, so you might want to do a patch exam on the back within your hand to start with. Exfoliation will be the move most of the people skip within their weekly skincare plan. But when You begin appropriately exfoliating your skin, you are going to see an Just about immediate big difference.

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Pamper you with an easy, exfoliating, Do-it-yourself face scrub you can make at home. All you require is brown sugar and olive oil, and you will whip up a tremendous treatment method to safely cleanse off Individuals lifeless cells! These masks are ideal for an at-household facial. Start with clean skin and right before implementing the mask, lay a warm, moist clean fabric on the face to open up up your pores. Soon after rinsing from the mask, wash your face with chilly drinking water or utilize a toner to close the pores. Then use a good face oil. Just Be certain that the combination is thick enough that it sticks to the face and isn’t runny. You might start out by pouring a quarter cup from the sugar within a bowl and then including oil by the tsp until the combination reaches a regularity that you want. Orange peel has pure bleaching Homes which helps lighten spots. Honey has strong antiseptic, antibacterial and moisturising Houses which hydrate and nourish the skin. You may also attempt these house solutions to eliminate blemishes. Other Uncomfortable side effects could include dry skin and standard discomfort, particularly if additives such as pure lemon juice are utilized. Only your dermatologist will let you decide if the usage of an egg white mask is best for you. Select which sort of sugar to use. If you have delicate skin, generally decide on brown sugar over white granulated sugar or other coarse-grained sugars. Brown sugar is the softest sugar and would be the most gentle on the skin.[eleven] The Senoufo people from the Ivory Coast characterize tranquility by building masks with eyes 50 percent-shut and lines drawn close to the mouth. The Temne of Sierra Leone use masks with small eyes and mouths to depict humility and humbleness. They symbolize knowledge by producing bulging forehead. Received leftover egg whites or maybe trying to find a flourless cookie? Glimpse no further more since these flourless chocolate chip cookies are made with egg whites and only involve six total ingredients! Superior with six egg whites following that. K. had previously made probably the most lovely macarons for The brand new Calendar year's Eve get together (see Flickr photo set here), so I needed to come up with A different thought. Meringues or pavlova To complete your registration be sure to enter the verification code you been given on the cell. When you haven't acquired the verification code, please SMS REWARDME to 9223347100 like my minor girl incorporates a sweet tooth like her mom.Baked two egg white yeasted donut bars2 tablespoons 105° water1½ teaspoons Lively dry yeast1 cup flour, as well as more for rolling3 TBSP sugar, divided Their a few principal cults use seventy-8 different types of masks. Most of the ceremonies of your Dogon society are top secret, although the antelope dance is revealed to non-Dogons. The antelope masks are tough rectangular bins with quite a few horns popping out of the top. The Dogons are specialist agriculturists and also the antelope symbolizes a hard working farmer.[28] On OneHowTo You may as well find out how to generate a wonderful system coffee scrub And exactly how coffee will do away with cellulite. You can expect to hardly ever toss absent your leftover coffee grinds yet again! Baking soda During this treatment will help in eliminating the excess oil from your pores which will clog up the pores bringing about acne breakouts.

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