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ak-vintage · 23 days ago

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Quarry - Epilogue

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

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

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

Set immediately following Chapter 13: The Jedi.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, bittersweet-ness, so much love and fluff, SMUT - Din take this helmet off, thigh riding, oral sex (m receiving), P in V sex, reader on top, Din's dirty mouth, all the praise, cursing in Mando'a (I had to let these two go out with a bang, they would have rioted otherwise)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on AO3

Your return to Nevarro was bittersweet in a way you hadn’t fully expected.

You hadn’t anticipated the swell of emotion you would feel at the sight of the coal-black sands and the rugged white architecture, a pang in your heart that reminded you of the relief of coming home. You hadn’t planned for the immediate ache of Grogu’s absence, always there but particularly poignant when you realized that you hadn’t thought you would be coming back here without him. You hadn’t thought to steel yourself against the rush of affection that washed over you as you said your goodbyes to Fennec and Boba, wishing for all the galaxy that they could stay even while you knew that they had their own priorities to look after back on Tatooine. The sensation had almost choked you when the former pulled you into an unexpected embrace, cradling the back of your head in her gloved palm in a way that reminded you painfully of your mother.

“Keep working on that right hook,” she murmured into your shoulder, arms tight as durasteel around you as you clung to her lean frame. “I expect you to give me a run for my money on the sparring mat the next time I see you.”

You hadn’t expected Greef Karga himself to greet you on the tarmac as you disembarked from the Firespray. The way his handsome, weathered face had gone from cheery to confused to mournful as he swept his gaze across Din, then Cara, then you in search of little green child and not finding one, the way he had immediately opened his mouth to ask only to be interrupted by a wave of Din’s hand.

“My quest is completed. He’s with his own kind.”

You imagined there might have been a time when those words would have been said with triumph or satisfaction, but instead they sounded flat and hollow as they crackled through the bounty hunter’s helmet.

Victory and loss. Comradery and loneliness. Homecoming and homesickness. You wondered how long this dichotomy would linger, how long it would be before you could experience one emotion without also being overwhelmed by its opposite. Would anything ever feel quite right again, now that Grogu was gone?

---

After dropping off her belongings at her apartment, Cara Dune took you both out to lunch at Ninda’s, the same cantina she had introduced you to before your departure for Tython. Din had protested, insisting that the two of you ought to be heading for the port office, but thankfully, the marshal had refused to take no for an answer. Now, bellies full of savory meat pies and mugs of ale, you could feel an air of anticipation settle over the table as Cara leaned back in her chair and asked the question that had lingered in the back of your mind since departing Gideon’s cruiser.

“So. What’s next?”

You glanced at Din, catching his gaze only briefly through his visor before he replied, “We’ll be moving on. There’s nothing left for me here now that my covert is gone, and we’re still out of a ship. I need to find work.”

“Plenty of work to be done here,” Cara retorted. “City’s growing every day. I could always use a deputy, and I’m sure we could find a spot for your girl somewhere. Not nearly enough people with your skills around here yet,” she continued, flashing you a smile. “You could be one of the first. Open your own shop. Karga would approve your business license in a heartbeat.”

You huffed a soft laugh. She was right, of course. You could do it if you wanted – start your own business. Perhaps you could repair broken hardware, design custom mods, restore vintage ships. You could probably even build them from scratch if you found a good parts supplier. It would be a good life, a stable life. Shipbuilding was a lucrative business, and you could be your own boss, something that had felt like a pipe dream during your years of servitude on Chardaan.

But one look at Din had you shaking your head and slipping your hand under the table to rest on his thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze. Your bounty hunter wasn’t ready for that kind of life just yet. You could feel it in the tightness of his muscles beneath your hand, could see it in the way he crossed his arms over his chest at the suggestion.

Someday, you thought that might be something he wanted, but for now, you could feel the itch to return to his nomadic life among the stars burning under his skin as if it were your own.

“That’s generous of you. But we can’t stay,” you said after a beat. “It’s not time for us to settle just yet.”

Cara accepted your response with moderate grace, ensuring that you each had her personal comm link code should you change your minds. She also informed you that Karga had offered to put you up in a temporary apartment for as long as you wished while you decided your next destination.

“It’s nothing special,” she quipped, passing Din a sleek, black keycard. “Just something he used to rent out to clients back in the day, when they wanted to do business in person. But it should have everything you need until you’re ready to move on.”

A swell of fondness rose up in your chest, making it difficult to swallow as you fought the urge to launch yourself across the table and wrap the other woman in a fierce hug. Meanwhile, the Mandalorian appeared reluctant to accept. Slipping the keycard into his belt, he rasped, “You can tell Karga I’ll be paying him back.”

The marshal laughed, loud and brash. “He’d shoot you for even suggesting it.”

“It’s too much. I won’t be indebted to him like that.”

“Indebted?” Cara looked almost offended at the suggestion, dark eyes flashing sharply. “You know better than anybody what it means to take care of your own, right? Let Karga do the same.”

This response seemed to take Din aback; you watched his helmet cock to the side in confusion as he processed her words, as if it were the first time he had considered that others might be willing to show up for him whether there was something in it for them or not.

You wondered then if he knew how much he meant to people, if he knew how strongly others were drawn to him without any effort on his part. You wondered if he knew how his sense of honor, his generosity, his steadfastness all made him a natural leader. He was the type of person who inspired loyalty, whether he actively sought it or not. Such a thing was a rare gift.

Almost absently, your eyes dropped to his utility belt where the inactive hilt of the Darksaber hung limply against his armored thigh. Should he wish it, he could take up Bo-Katan’s mission – reunite his people. He would be a tremendous Mand’alor, and that sword would give him more legitimacy than if he had been born to it.

“Fine,” he replied, pulling you out of your musings. “Just this once. We won’t linger long anyway.”

Cara shrugged. “Like I said – it’s yours for as long as you want. Just promise you’ll stop in and say goodbye when the time comes, okay?”

---

The apartment was in the market district, a little one-bedroom unit on the fourth floor of a white-washed building edged in royal blue trim.

The first floor was taken up with a tidy little caf shop that you looked forward to patronizing, and both sides of the cozy cobblestone street were lined with market stalls shaded by colorful linen awnings, all varying shades of red, orange, and gold. In spite of the charming surroundings, the marshal’s assessment of the unit itself had been accurate – it wasn’t nearly as lavish as the inn you had stayed in the last time you were on Nevarro. However, after spending weeks in deep space, the full kitchen, running water refresher, and large bed felt downright luxurious even if it was a bit barebones.

“I wonder how many places like this Karga has across the city,” you mused, pacing the length of the living space. The place had been sparsely furnished in nondescript shades of gray – a charcoal sofa, a light gray leather armchair, a two-person dining table in an ashen wood with a shining steel surface. Not unwelcoming but decidedly devoid of personality.

Din cocked his helmet in thought, following close on your heels. “A few, I’m sure. He likes to be prepared.”

You hummed thoughtfully. You could see that; Karga struck you as the type of man who was accustomed to holding all the cards.

Setting aside thoughts of the magistrate for the moment, you turned to face your companion, taking in the Mandalorian in your first moment of true solitude in weeks. Even through the bulk of his armor and the impassivity of his helmet, you could sense his weariness. It draped across his broad shoulders like a cloak, his emotions nearly tangible to you after so many months in his company. How had you ever thought this man stoic?

Closing the narrow distance between you, you rested your palms against the cool, unyielding surface of his breastplate and gazed up into his visor. “How are you, ner kar’ta?” you asked earnestly.

Your question hung in the still, silent air for a moment before the bounty hunter slipped his hands casually around your waist and pulled you to him. “Hmm. I like it when you speak Mando’a,” he rasped, fingers kneading the curve of your hips through the coarse fabric of your boilersuit.

You grinned, leaning gently into his touch. “Yeah? I’ve been practicing my accent.”

“It’s really coming along,” Din replied with a nod. You could hear the smile in his voice, could picture the softness in his dark eyes as he gazed at you, and you felt a gentle flush rise in your cheeks.

“I’d love to learn more, if you’re willing. All the phrases I know at this point are just…expressions of affection.” You hit him with a pointed look, eyebrow arched, and he huffed a laugh.

“I’d be happy to teach you.”

“I look forward to our first lesson.” Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffled another inch closer and threaded your fingers into the folds of his cape. “Now. If you’re done dodging the question…”

Broad, heavy palms drifted lower then, pressing warmly, firmly into the muscles of your ass, and you struggled to keep your eyelids from drooping under the heat of his hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The arch of your eyebrow deepened, and you drew back slightly, as much as you could manage in the cage of his arms. “Din,” you said shortly.

Silence stretched between you for a breath, the two of you simply staring at one another, tacitly waiting for the other to capitulate and change the subject. But you would not allow him to best you in this. Eventually, it was him that offered a soft, tentative confession.

“I’m…restless,” he admitted, breaking your gaze to stare down at his boots. “I don’t like the idea of just…sitting around. I’d rather keep moving.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get that. Trust me, I’m not very good at doing nothing, either. But let’s just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “Let’s just try. For a few days. Please.”

The Mandalorian glanced back up at you at that, and you could see your own face – the bags under your eyes, the chaotic strands of hair clinging to your forehead, the weary shine of your eyes – reflected back at you in his visor. Your clothes were rumpled, your scarf stained with sweat. You looked, if possible, even more exhausted than you felt.

“We’ve been running at lightspeed for weeks,” you continued. “I’m completely spent. And I would bet if you held still for more than a couple of seconds, you’d feel it, too.”

The shoulders beneath your hands stiffened at your words. “That’s the life I live,” he replied gruffly.

“That’s the life you’ve chosen to live,” you corrected immediately. “But right now, maybe for the first time, there’s no Guild Agent beating down your door, there’s no quarry to chase, there’s no covert to provide for.” Offering him a gentle smile, you slipped one hand up to cradle his beskar cheek. “You don’t have to be…the Mandalorian right now. Right now, you get to just be Din Djarin. And Din Djarin is a human man. Who needs food. And water. And sleep. Just like the rest of us.”

Din was quiet then, though you could swear you could hear the gears in his mind turning as he processed your words. You could sense the battle within him – who he had been before Grogu, before you at war with the man he had become in the time since. The old Din Djarin was a lone ranger, a rolling stone, a clan of one; rigid, impassive, uncompromising. His drive to keep moving, to keep working, to keep surviving had been as much a part of the core of him as his Creed.

Who was this new Din Djarin? You could feel the question even through the silence.

Taking pity on him, you gathered both of his hands in yours, pulling them from your body and instead pressing soft kisses to them, one for each ridge of knuckles hidden beneath thick leather. “Tell you what. Why don’t we get cleaned up, and then we can go downstairs and take a walk through the market? Replenish some of the supplies we lost, then go from there?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the bounty hunter nodded. “All right, cyare,” he agreed. Resignation colored his tone, and you felt your smile widen in triumph. “Go get the water started. I’ll join you in a minute.”

---

You hardly remembered stripping down to your skin as the shower heated up, could not recall leaving your dirty clothes crumpled in a pile in the corner of the ‘fresher as you climbed in and immediately dunked yourself under the stream of too-hot water. It was all done on autopilot, your body moving on inertia alone as your mind raced, echoing with Din’s words.

I’ll join you in a minute.

Join you.

In the ‘fresher? In the shower?

You had left the lights off just in case, though admittedly you weren’t certain it would do much to prevent you from seeing his face should he decide to climb in under the spray with you. There was a small window paned with thick, warped glass cut into the far wall, and late afternoon Nevarran sunlight filtered through it, leaving the room dim but hardly dark. Plenty to see by with hardly a squint.

As you scrambled into the stall, you draped your scarf around the shower door handle as a backup. Another just in case.

Lost in thought, you went through the motions of your routine. Unwinding your braid, soaking the long strands until they weighed heavily on your shoulders, fumbling for the anonymous bottle of generic shampoo that had come stocked with the unit. You kept your eyes on the wall of the stall in front of you, your back to the shower door, and you tried not to let your hands tremble.

It had been so long since Din had touched you, so long since he had bent you over the rickety bunk on Boba’s ship and sent you rocketing through the stars. So much had happened since then, and in the intervening time, there had been days where this side of you had felt so far away, so out of reach it felt almost alien. But no longer. Your skin prickled under the steaming spray, seemingly impervious to the heat of the water now that another heat had reawakened in your belly. It simmered there, a creature stretching and preening after a long slumber, a thing that only Din had ever managed to draw out of you.

You had never wanted anyone the way you wanted him, and that want burned so brightly you could feel the space between your thighs begin to throb at the mere suggestion that it might be satisfied.

Distantly, you heard the hiss of the ‘fresher door sliding open followed by the rhythmic thud of heavy boots. You swallowed thickly as the door slid shut again, as soft clinks joined the sound of rustling fabric. It was like…metal on tile.

Like beskar being peeled off of a flight suit and stacked neatly on the floor.

You pressed your palms to the cool wall of the shower stall, holding yourself steady as you felt your knees begin to tremble with nerves you could not control. You hadn’t even been this anxious the first time you had fucked him – on the contrary, that experience had left you soaring with confidence. What could possibly have you in such a state this time, you wondered?

A brief rush of cool air swept into the shower stall behind you, dissipating the thick cloak of steam that surrounded you and blooming goosebumps across your shoulder blades.

You said nothing, the only sound you made the deep, centering breath you drew as a pair of broad, tanned hands appeared over the swell of your hips. Before you could shiver away the sudden chill of the open stall, the door closed again, and a strong, masculine body pressed tight to your back. His heat bled into you instantly, and you could not stifle the moan that dripped from your mouth as you leaned back into his embrace.

“Shab. I’ve missed you, mesh’la,” Din murmured, voice low and coarse as he pressed his face into the bend of your neck. Against your damp skin, you felt a pair of pillowy lips caress you. You felt scratchy, uneven stubble – longer than the last time you had seen it – drag against your pulse point. You felt the tip of a prominent, aquiline nose tuck into the space behind your ear and breathe you in.

The Mandalorian had, once again, taken his helmet off. On instinct, your eyes fell closed.

“Din,” you gasped weakly, hand flying up to thread your fingers into his hair, holding him to you. Maker, he felt good against you, his skin hot and smooth, his kisses along your neck wet and sucking. The sensation had your knees softening beneath you, and you were grateful for your grip on the wall and his clutch on your hips keeping you on your feet.

“S’all right. You can open your eyes. Ni liser nu haaranovor teh gar tug'yc.” Hands drifting to your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts, Din pulled you deeper into his embrace. You could feel the thick, warm hardness of him pressed against the small of your back, the heavy weight of his balls soft against your ass. “I won’t hide from you anymore. I refuse.”

A whimper worked its way out of your throat at his words. “Y-You’re sure? I won’t l-look, I swear,” you panted, grinding the globes of your ass cheeks instinctually against his cock like a Loth-cat in heat.

The bounty hunter groaned, his fingers digging sharply into your flesh to keep you still, and the sound vibrated through your body like the roll of thunder. “I know you wouldn’t. My sweet girl. I’m sure.” Using his grip on you to spin you around, you quickly found yourself backed up against the shower wall. Still, your eyes remained squeezed tightly shut as he continued, “It can be…permissible show one’s face. Within the bonds of the riduurok.”

Riduurok. You knew that word. It meant –

Your eyes snapped open, and instantly, your field of vision was filled with nothing but him. Broad, tanned, freckled shoulders. Dark brown curls clinging to his forehead. Deep brown eyes, round and earnest and tender, brimming with love, burning with desire. Your beautiful bounty hunter, somehow even more breathtaking than you remembered.

“Marriage,” you translated breathlessly. “Riduurok is…marriage.”

Din nodded once. “Yes.”

A wave of emotion rose up in your throat, and you struggled to swallow. “We aren’t married.”

“No,” he conceded. “But my intentions have not changed. Have yours?”

You were shaking your head before he had even finished his question. “Of course not.” Your voice sounded tremulous, a bit frantic to your own ears. “I just… I couldn’t stand it if you regretted this. I don’t want you to look back at this tomorrow and not be able to put your helmet back on fast enough.”

A flash of guilt sparked in his dark eyes then, and his proud shoulders fell slightly as he dropped his gaze to the floor. You knew he was remembering that morning on Gideon’s cruiser, the disappointment on your face as he explained that taking his helmet off the day before had been an exception.

“I can’t bear to be the thing that drives you to break your Creed, over and over again.” Bringing your hands up to his face, you cradled his cheeks in your palms, savoring the feel of his beard against your skin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “So I need you to be certain. Is this what you want, ner kar’ta? To be like this…with me?”

Din cupped your face in return, the two of holding each other in mirrored poses under the steaming water. “With you and only you,” he promised. “Forever, cyare.”

And then his lips descended on yours, and you swallowed a moan as he gathered you into his arms and bore you back against the shower wall.

---

You got yourselves clean in fits and spurts, between long stretches of deep, wet kisses, fervent gropes, and tantalizing caresses. Din toyed with your breasts while you rinsed your hair, kneading them firmly, trapping your nipples between his fingers, teasing and plucking and tugging until they ached and you couldn’t stifle the needy whines in your throat. When it was his turn to wash himself, you pressed yourself along his back, reaching around his body to stroke his cock with one hand and cradle his balls with the other. You dodged rivulets of soap that streamed down his back as you pressed kisses to his spine, and he shivered beneath your touch. Hot and heavy in your hands, the tip of him leaked and dripped over your skin only for the slickness to immediately wash away under the rush of the showerhead.

The moment the last of the soap bubbles had disappeared down the drain, the Mandalorian turned off the shower and threw open the stall door.

“Bed,” he growled. The sound reached deep inside you, tugging on your nerve endings and sending a rush of fresh wetness to the apex of your thighs. “Now.”

You paid no heed to the water you trailed behind you as you burst through the ‘fresher door and staggered into the single bedroom. Din was hot on your heels, crowding up behind you as you went so that by the time you reached the foot of the large bed, he needed less than a second to reach around you, snag ahold of the downy-white blankets that dressed it, and fling them onto the floor.

With a breathless laugh, you spun around, the backs of your calves hitting the mattress as you collapsed onto the bed. You reached for him the second your back hit the sheets, fingers scrabbling urgently over his smooth, wet skin, but there was no need; he went to you willingly, clambering atop you with little encouragement. The weight of him was grounding, the give of his belly and the corded strength of his limbs keeping you anchored to the moment.

“Cyar’ika.” The tender, lilting word vibrated against your skin, tripped down your nerves as his teeth dragged along your collarbone. Goosebumps broke out along your skin, and you arched into his touch, hands in his dripping curls tugging him down, down, down to the swell of your breasts. His stubble teased your skin there, making you squirm, pulling a little giggle from your throat, but the giggle quickly morphed into a moan as his lips locked around one of your nipples.

“Din!” you panted. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling a groan from him, which he smothered against the pillow of your flesh. You could feel your clit swell and throb in time with the coaxing swipes of his tongue, your nipple now impossibly hard and pebbled in a way that had you squirming beneath him, begging for pressure, for friction, anything to soothe the ache that pulsed between your thighs. “Please. Need you.”

As always, it seemed that the Mandalorian knew your body better than you did. In an instant, he had slotted his knee between your legs, adjusting his weight so that he could press himself right up against the place where you needed him most.

“M’right here, sweet girl. Not going anywhere.”

Your hips moved without your direction, grinding into the delicious pressure the moment it arrived. Maker, the heft and the hardness of his thigh felt incredible against your swollen cunt, and though you had to work for it, it was giving you everything you needed as Din’s soft, sucking kisses traveled across your chest, to the hollow of your throat, to the vulnerable patch of skin beneath your ear where your pulse raced.

“Shab,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, panting into your open mouth. “Can feel how bad you want it. You’re soaking me, mesh’la.”

You bit back a whimper, eyelids fluttering as you nodded. “You feel so good,” you assured him. “Always want you, always.”

Sealing his lips over yours, you felt your core tremble at the heat of his tongue, the plushness of his mouth, the force of his kiss. Against your hip, his cock pulsed and leaked, leaving hot, slick trails of precum across your skin, and you swore saliva pooled under your tongue at the sensation. You wanted to taste him, to feel the warmth and the weight of him in your mouth. You wanted to hear him groan and curse as the thick, broad head of him breached your throat, as your nose pressed into his dark curls. You wanted him to need – just as badly as you needed – and you wanted to be the one to make it happen.

Pressing your palms into his chest, wrenching your mouth away from his, you breathed, “Roll over. On your back.”

To your surprise, he obeyed in an instant, and for the first time, you felt a surge of gratefulness for the size of the bed. Such a move would never have been possible in the narrow bunk on the Razor Crest or in the dusty bounty cell on Boba’s Firespray. Scrambling over him, you nudged his legs further apart and kneeled on the mattress between them.

Lower lip trapped coquettishly between your teeth, you braced your hands on his thick thighs and leaned over him. Long, damp strands of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, the ends dancing over his stomach in a way that had the muscles there jumping. You paid them no heed, instead nuzzling the tip of your nose and the round of your cheek against the underside of his hard, flushed cock.

“Hold my hair back, ner kar’ta?” you asked softly as you dragged your tongue across his glistening head.

Din threw his head back with a grunt, broad hands sinking instantly into your hair. He fisted the locks back from your face, holding them close to the root, tugging at your scalp, and you whined at the bolt of white-hot lightning that licked down your spine at the gesture. You didn’t have it in you to tease him any more after that; pulling a deep breath in through your nose, you drew him into your mouth and began to suck.

“Haar’chak!”

The curse echoed through the empty apartment as you smothered your answering grin against his dense, dark curls. You loved him like this – impossibly hard, flushed and hot, heavy and pulsing and tasting of fresh, clean skin and slick, salty man. You loved the way his hips hitched upward, seeking more of your warmth, more of your wet, and you loved the way he stopped himself from pushing you too far, even if he clearly wanted to. You loved the grip of his hands on the back of your head, the way they grounded you to the moment. You even loved the ache in your jaw as you worked yourself over him, knowing you’d suffer much worse to hear him make those low, breathless little groans and know that you were the cause.

It was a privilege getting to watch a man like him fall apart at the seams. To be the one responsible? Just the thought had your racing heartbeat traveling from your chest to your cunt.

It didn’t take long for the fall to begin – didn’t take more than a handful of minutes to have the Mandalorian trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs clenching under your hands, his fingers tightening painfully around your hair as he attempted to anchor himself in the maelstrom. A premature thrill of victory coursed through you at the feeling, and you swallowed sloppily around the thickness of him once more before letting him spring from your mouth.

“Taste so good, Din,” you whimpered, dragging your tongue against his leaking tip to drink down another glistening pearl of precum.

A deep, rumbling sound gritted its way out from between his clenched teeth, and you glanced up to watch the tendons in his neck strain as he tried in vain to collect himself. “Can’t say stuff like that,” he panted. “This’ll be over before it even starts.”

You felt a wicked smirk curl your lips and lapped at him again, a teasing little kitten lick that had his hips flexing desperately in search of more. “I’m sure you’d make it up to me.”

With a shake of his head and a weak smile, the bounty hunter released his hold on your hair, letting it tumble back down around your shoulders. “Not happening, cyar’ika. Now get up here before I sit you on my cock myself.”

Stars. A rush of heat flooded your body at his words, an answering wetness dampening your inner thighs, and you scrambled gracelessly from your crouch between his knees. As it had been from the moment you met, you were at his mercy, though now you reveled in it, for you knew he was just as weak to you as you were to him.

His hands came up to cup your hips as you knelt over him, fingers digging deep enough to bruise as you dragged your dripping slit against the thick ridge of his cock – soaking him, making him moan, catching the plush tip of his head against your swollen, throbbing clit. But just as you had worked him up to desperation, you had done the same to yourself, and you found you could not bear to tease yourself for long. Reaching down between your legs, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, gave him a couple firm strokes, and notched the tip of him against your entrance.

His name was a pitiful whine on the back of a sob as you sank down onto him, felt him stretch you, fill you, somehow feeling deeper and thicker than ever before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized this was the first time you had taken him without his fingers to prepare you first, and you could feel the difference – it felt as if he was splitting you open, carving you in two, hollowing out a place for himself deep inside your body, and your muscles trembled and quivered at the harsh demand. It stung, but Maker, did you hunger for it.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” Din growled, watching you with heavy-lidded, blown-pupil eyes. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“Fuck, it’s – it’s – Din. So much.” The pathway between your brain and your mouth seemed to have deteriorated, every word coming out quavering and half-slurred, but your lack of coherence only seemed to spur him on.

“S’okay, cyare. You can do it.” He nodded slowly, encouragingly, using his grip on you to coax a roll of your hips. “Puhoi bal pakod. Slow. Nice and steady.”

The shift of him inside you, the way he dragged against your walls had your jaw dropping open and your eyes falling shut. You needed more immediately. Before you could fully wrap you mind around what was happening, you found yourself rocking against him again, again, again – back and forth, up and down, rocking him deeper, faster into you, dragging your hard little clit against his pubic bone, digging your nails into his chest for support, moaning and gasping as you went.

Through your blurred vision and frayed awareness, you could sense the Mandalorian practically melting beneath you – head dropping back limply, sinking deeper into the now-damp mattress, hands ghosting lightly over your hips to your waist to your breasts to your ass to your thighs, all the while murmuring faint encouragements under his breath as you rode.

So good for me, keep going, mesh’la, take what you need from me, that’s it, just take it, it’s yours, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop…

“Din!” You could feel it building at the base of your spine, could feel your muscles starting to coil in your abdomen. Gods, every time you came down on him, he pounded that soft, elusive spot inside you, making you shake, making you drip. Sweat glistening on your skin, you felt yourself become almost slippery under his hands, the exertion mixing with the dampness of the shower and leaving you shining in the late afternoon sun. Your hips and thighs burned, unused to the strain, but you couldn’t slow, couldn’t stop, couldn’t think of giving in now. You were so close – he was going to make you –

As though reading your mind, the bounty hunter rasped through gritted teeth, “You’re right there, aren’t you? Go on.” He nodded, eyes locked on yours, dark hair clinging to his forehead with his own sweat. “S’okay, I’ve got you, m’right here. Let it happen.”

It occurred to you then that he was watching you fall apart, that his gaze was making note of every facial expression, every bead of sweat, every clenched muscle that rippled across your body, as you were sure he had done so many times before. But just now, right here, was the first time you were getting to watch him. No helmet, no pitch-dark room, no blindfold – nothing stood in the way of you getting to watch the man you loved hold on to the ragged edges of his sanity while you took him for all he was worth. Even in the midst of your hunger and your need, your heart stuttered at the intimacy of it.

You could see each other – really and truly. Fuck, you loved him –

“Yes!” you gasped, seizing up around him. “Yes, yes, fuck, Din, I’m – ”

And then you were gone – flung over the edge of the precipice with a shout, bearing down on his cock as you trembled and throbbed and leaked more of your wetness all over his lap. It smeared under you, slicking the hair at the base of his shaft, gathering in the little creases at the joints of his legs.

Distantly, you could hear a long stream of curses in Mando’a spilling into the air. “Shabshabshabshab. That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it. Feel so good coming all over me like that, such a good girl.”

Every word sent a little spasm through you, delicate aftershocks tripping down your raw, ruined nerves and making you shiver. They left you feeling weak – muscles slack and bones wobbly in the aftermath of your pleasure. You wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed beside him in a spineless heap, but no. You refused to abandon him now, not when he was still so impossibly hard inside you, not when he was still smothering low-register grunts as he tried desperately not to flip you onto your back and take what he needed from you.

Instead, you gently slumped forward onto his chest, pressing your tits against his skin and threading your fingers into his hair. “Your turn, ner kar’ta,” you murmured breathlessly against the underside of his jaw. You sucked on the skin there briefly, tasting the salt of him on your tongue. “I’m all yours. Let me feel you cum.”

Your permission was all he needed. In the span of a heartbeat, Din shifted beneath you, bringing his feet up to press firmly into the surface of the mattress, dropping his hands to the globes of your ass, and using his newfound leverage to thrust up into you with a force you hadn’t prepared for. You let out a sharp, surprised yelp, and you could have sworn the bounty hunter laughed in response.

It didn’t take much after that – a few deep, quick, powerful thrusts from below, his big hands steadying you above him as you buried your face in his neck, and then his hips were stuttering, his cock was pulsing, and a bloom of warmth spilled deep inside you. Your name was on his lips as he came – your real name, one he rarely called you but that sounded so sweet on his lips you almost wished he would use it more often.

You felt the curve of his mouth on your brow as he came back down, the scruff of his beard and the bristles of his mustache catching in your hair as he pressed a weak kiss to your skin, and when you looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you treasured the rare sight of his crooked, fucked-out smile. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to how beautiful your Mandalorian was, but you hoped that perhaps now, with his newfound resolution, you might actually have the opportunity to find out.

---

It was well after dark that first night before the two of you managed to make it down to the market for dinner. Only a small handful of vendors remained open, so you made do with a modest selection of fresh fruit and the last loaf of bread from a baker’s stall down the block. You ate your meager meal naked in bed, the sheets beneath you still cool and damp from your post-shower romp. Despite the lack of glamor, it was easily the most hedonistic moment of your life, and you felt certain you would remember it fondly even when you were old and gray.

The following week you spent in Karga’s loaned apartment was bittersweet. On the one hand, you and Din had never been closer, and your relationship flourished now that you finally had a moment to focus on one another without other competing priorities. You spent long hours lounging on the couch in the living room or curled up in bed together, talking and napping and touching as you pleased. You told him about your childhood on Chardaan, about your parents, about the bad deal that landed your grandfather in the debt of Orron Halcard’s father. You told him about the morning after your eighteenth birthday, the day Orron came to your home to call in the last of that debt. And you told him how you worked for seven years to pay it off, and when you went to him after the final day of your servitude, instead of signing the documents that would have released you from your indenture, Orron destroyed all record of your years of service and instead fitted you with a cortical tracker to keep you from running away.

In return, Din told you what little he remembered of his childhood on Aq Vetina. He told you of his years in the Fighting Corps on Concordia, of his time traveling with another Mandalorian – a man he referred to only as his “mentor,” for whom he served as an apprentice. He told you of finding the Nevarran covert, of the decades he had spent building up his reputation in the Outer Rim as a fierce, efficient bounty hunter, all the while nurturing the growth and prosperity of his hidden community with contributions from his earnings. And he confessed how lonely he had been, all those years making his way through the galaxy alone – that he had not even known he was lonely until Grogu came along.

And therein laid the “bitter” part. The absence of Grogu was like a physical thing – big and tender and painful and always present, no matter how much good food you discovered in town or how many different surfaces Din fucked you on around the apartment. You found yourself sinking hours into ruminating about him, wondering whether he and the Jedi had gotten to their destination safely, whether he was being properly cared for, whether he was happy. You wondered whether this Jedi had picked up on his love of frogs, whether he knew how much the boy liked to be held and carried and rocked to sleep. You wondered whether the Jedi laughed and played with him, whether he sang him songs or told him stories. When you found yourself in one of these moods, you had to reassure yourself that he would, he did, he was; otherwise you surely would have demanded that Din find where that strange man had taken your little boy and made him book transport there immediately.

As it was, you knew you could never ask such a thing of Din. He kept his feelings about the entire ordeal rather close to his chest, but he had shared enough for you to know that he was struggling, as well – perhaps even more than you. So you knew you could not tempt him. You didn’t know if he would have the strength to refuse you.

As one week on Nevarro became two, the both of you began to grow restless. Though neither of you broached the topic, you knew the time of your departure was imminent, as Din had slowly started to use portions of his reward money from Gideon to restock his arsenal of armaments, first aid supplies, and deep space-friendly foodstuffs. You chose to take your cue from him and spent a sunny afternoon replacing the small wardrobe you had lost in the Razor Crest’s destruction, as well as putting together a rudimentary toolkit, which you could take with you to job sites should the opportunity arise. By the end of the second week, it was clear that both of you were as prepared as you could be to venture out beyond the safe haven of Nevarran space once again.

It was late when you finally worked up the courage to ask the question, the two of you lounging in bed in nothing but your skin, the holoprojector running old episodes of Knights of the Old Republic softly in the background. Turning onto your side, you took in the sight of your Mandalorian in his most vulnerable state – bare and open-faced, eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he watched the holovid with lazy interest. Loathe to disrupt his peace, it took you a moment to swallow and say, “When we were on the Firespray…you mentioned wanting to try to find the remainder of your covert. To look for your armorer.”

Din glanced over at you, a single brow arching as he took in your anxious expression. “Yes. Is that still something you’re interested in?”

“Of course,” you were quick to assure him. “Your covert is your family, Din. If you want to look for them, I’ll help however I can.”

“And…what I said about wanting the seek the naur’alor’s blessing. For us.” He paused then, and you saw the moment he pieced it together – the reason you seemed so uncomfortable mentioning what he had said on the Firespray all those weeks ago. His brows drew up, concern coloring his dark gaze. “Is…that something you still want?”

You nodded. “I want to be your wife someday. Your riduur. And if getting her blessing means we could make that happen, when we’re ready, then yes, that’s something I want.”

The bounty hunter seemed to consider that for a moment, the deep wrinkles between his prominent brows growing even more pronounced as he thought. After a beat, he rolled over onto his side, his posture matching yours as he propped his head up on his fist. “The naur’alor is my Tribe’s spiritual leader,” he explained. “She is the keeper of our culture, the custodian of the Creed. Her word is law. Her blessing would give us…legitimacy. And it would grant you privileges as Mando’ad – protections that I can’t give you all on my own.”

Breaking his gaze, your eyes flicked to the wrinkled sheets between you. You could not bear to look at him as you gave voice to your next question – the fear that had swirled in the back of your mind since Din had first proposed this idea.

“And what if… What if she says no? What if she rejects me?”

A broad, tanned, calloused hand appeared under your chin, tucking his fingers under your jaw and urging you to look up at him once more. “To reject you would be to reject me,” he said earnestly. “Where you go, I go. We are bonded, cyare, in all but name.”

“But if she does. I can’t ask you to give up your culture – your people – for me, Din. I won’t do that to you.”

“You aren’t,” he insisted, caressing your jaw soothingly with the pad of his thumb. “She will understand. You and I are…unprecedented. But the naur’alor is wise. She is good. I can’t believe she would turn us away.”

The pure, unyielding faith in his voice made your heart clench in your chest. You wished you could trust the way he did, but if your time with Boba, Koska, and Bo-Katan had taught you anything at all, it was that there were clearly multiple interpretations of the tenants of the Creed. There was more than one approach to walking the Way, and it seemed that your bounty hunter had been raised among only the strictest of zealots.

The nagging feeling at the back of your mind that this armorer might be a more formidable challenge than Din expected simply would not leave you alone. You could only hope he was prepared for the possibility.

“Whatever she says, I want you to know that I’m with you,” you promised, laying your hand across the back of his, cupping him to you. “For as long as you want me, I’m all yours.”

He grinned then, a wry thing that curled the corners of his soft, plush lips. “I’ll always want you, gotabor’ika,” he murmured. “Darasuum. Forever.”

Emotion swelling in your chest, urging you forward, you kissed that grin with all the tenderness and love that threatened to spill from you at his devoted confession. In return, he cradled you like you were something precious, traced the seams of your lips with his tongue like you were something to be savored. You were flushed and thoroughly breathless by the time you managed to pull away.

“Okay then,” you breathed, tracing the tip of your nose along his to press your foreheads together. “Let’s go find your covert.”

---

Mando'a Translations:

ner kar'ta - my heart cyare - beloved shab - fuck mesh'la - beautiful Ni liser nu haaranovor teh gar tug'yc - roughly translated "I will not hide from you anymore" riduurok - a Mandalorian marriage agreement cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart haar'chak - damn it Puhoi bal pakod - literally translated "slow and easy" naur'alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer riduur - spouse, gender neutral term gotabor'ika - "little engineer" darasuum - forever

Notes:

For those of you who have been with me throughout this story, thank you. It means more to me than words can say. It's been a year and a half-long labor of love, and I'm so proud to have finished it. I plan to come back to these two in the future - maybe a string of connected oneshots - but until then, ret'urcye mhi.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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phantomdoofer · 4 months ago

Text

Tower Town, Chapter 22 - The Final Slice

Part 5

Gustavo managed to squirm out from under the bulky corpse just in time to see the Pizzamancer explode. He saw Peppino standing, panting, obviously exhausted…

He saw the blood soaking his friend’s clothes…

Then Peppino collapsed.

Gustavo ran towards him. “PEPPINO! PEPPINO!!” He rolled him over - Peppino's face was soaked with blood. He wasn't breathing. His eyes were already lifeless.

Gustavo shook his head. “No. No. Nonono…”

He looked around, his vision blurred by tears. Mi… Mio Dio, Giuseppe, Anita, the Noises, they're all…”

Suddenly a pair of arms grabbed Peppino and picked him up. “Come on, all of you! Grab the soldiers and the rabbits and follow me!”

“P… Pizzahe- we mean, Paolo?” Fake said.

Paolo strode off. “Hurry up! We might be able to save them!”

Gustavo nodded, and grabbed Noise and Noisette, hoisting them up with the strength of desperation. Pepperman lifted Giuseppe's corpse, piling Anita's small frame on top of him.

The group trotted after the tall Ninda, into a room full of glass tubes. Cloning tanks? Gustavo wondered.

Paolo gestured at a staircase next to the clone tanks. “Hurry! Up there! Put each one in a separate tank! Hurry!”

As they did so, Fake glared at him. “If you are planning on cloning them-”

Paolo waved irritably. “These ‘cloning tanks’ are actually medical capsules!” He closed the lid, and quickly hustled to the control panel. “If we're fast enough, it can regenerate them before brain death sets in!”

Everyone gathered beside him. “How do you know that?” Fake asked suspiciously.

Paolo tapped the side of his head as he typed frantically. “Remember what I said? While I was monitoring you guys, the Tower hit me with some sort of… beam. It recognized my memory loss and filled in the holes with what it thought I needed.”

Brando nodded. “So you know how these operate?”

Paolo nodded. “I think so.” He finished typing, and the bodies in the tubes buoyed up as the force fields held them. “There. I've initiated the regeneration program… I think. I was in such a rush, that… never mind. Now, we can only wait.”

Gustavo moved Fake aside. “Why are you doing this? You got what you wanted. The Pizzamancer's dead.”

Paolo frowned. “I pay my debts. Despite what you all feel towards me, I have no ill will towards you.” He glanced up at the bodies of Noisette, Giuseppe, and Anita. “And… some people recently showed me the value of kindness… and friendship.”

Gustavo paused, then nodded. “All right. How long do you think it'll take?”

Paolo shook his head. “Hours, certainly.” He motioned at Pepperman, Brick, and Fake - all three, while standing, were trembling with pain. “Let's get you all patched up.”

~~~~

Paolo handed Brando a small device. “Here, hold this button down and run it over their wounds. It should mend even them.”

As the Ninda walked away, Brando turned to the froglike clone, and dutifully ran the device over their flesh. Fake shivered as the device wove their doughy form back together. “That feels very uncomfortable,” they said.

“I can only imagine,” Brando said absently. He spoke as he waved the device around. “In there… you said… you had to save your son?”

Fake looked at Brando warily. “We… we did not wish to tell you. We saw how… angry you were. At us.”

Brando sat back. “What are you, Fake?”

Fake sat silently, then finally nodded. “When Bruno disappeared… Pizzahead kidnapped him. Assimilated his restaurant into the Tower. Did… horrible things to him. To us.” Fake shivered. “He - we died. He used Bruno's brain as the base for us.”

Brando reached up and touched the being's head. “So you're saying… you're my father? Bruno Tagliatelle?”

Fake cringed back from the look of reflexive hatred that appeared on the boy's face. “Part of us is. And we regret… he regrets so very much how he treated you.” They looked downcast. “We know you cannot forgive us for how we treated you, but… we could not stand by and watch you die.”

Brando’s face was unreadable. “You… nearly sacrificed your life to save me. And you didn't have to. I could have protected myself.”

Fake nodded. “We did not think. It was… reflex. And besides, we have come to understand how much we lost. The terrible mistakes we made. We cannot change the past. But we…” they looked up at Brando's face, “we would like to think we could be with you in the future.”

Brando said nothing at first. “I hated you. I hate you so much.”

Fake nodded. “You had good reason to, young one. Bruno was horrible to you. He knows that now. We are so sorry.”

Brando shook his head. “I don't know… I don't know if I can forgive him.” Then he smiled, weakly. “But it does give me some comfort, knowing the part of him that lives actually cares.”

Fake nodded. “The Bruno in us wishes they could have been a different person, now.”

Brando chuckled. “Well, he - you - are, are you not?”

Fake stopped, then chuckled. “So we are.”

Brando held out a hand, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

Fake shook it. “Nice to meet you, Brando.”

~~~~

Peppino found himself in a shapeless void. He stared around, then looked down. The hole in his chest was gone.

He also wasn't breathing.

“I finally-a get to meet you in person, l'altro mio figlio.”

Suddenly Peppino was aware of a figure in front of him. He was tall, a good head taller than himself, heavyset, with long curling hair.

Peppino’s memory stirred. “P… Papa?”

The man turned - behind his bushy mustache was a warm smile. “Peppino. Il mio piccolino. How you've-a grown.” He walked forward and embraced Peppino.

Peppino found tears welling up in his eyes, and he hugged his father for the first time in over forty years.

For an unmeasurable time, they stood, together.

Finally, Peppino spoke. “Papa, you should know… I’m not-a the original Peppino. I'm-”

“A clone?” Sergio said, smiling. “I know. Your brother told me.”

“Giuseppe’s here?” Peppino said, confused. He looked around.

Sergio chuckled. “None of us are-a here in a physical sense, you silly polpetta. We're…” he paused, “in between. In between life and-a death. And yes, I know. You are still my son, however you came-a to be.”

The statement was so simple and yet profound. Peppino couldn't help himself anymore, and he plunged his face into his father's chest, bawling like a child.

Forty years of pain and suffering poured out of him like poison from a wound.

Sergio hugged the man to him. “My poor-a little Peppino. The world has been so hard on you. Would that I could have-a been there to take some of the burden from you.”

“I missed-a you so much, Papa,” Peppino choked.

Sergio stroked Peppino's head. “I have always been beside you, Peppino. You and-a your brother both. As much as I could be.” He held him at arm's length. “You have seen-a so much, felt so much torment. But you are strong, Peppino. Stronger than-a you realize. You have survived things that most other people would not.”

Peppino hung his head. “But-a now it's over. I died defeating the Pizzamancer. What happens now?”

Sergio smiled. “Who said you were dead?”

Peppino shook his head, confused. “But… you're here, Papa. Where else would I-a see you?”

Sergio laughed. “Ah, you were on-a the verge of death, it's true. But your friends found a way to return you. It's only a matter of time, now.”

Peppino blinked. “But, even so… you are here. You died long, long ago…”

“Sì, that's true,” Sergio conceded. “But just-a because we're dead doesn't mean we're gone. How many-a times did you end up a ghost in-a the Tower the first time?”

Peppino shivered. “More times than I want-a to think about. But I thought that was-a just a transformation…?”

“They don't-a have to be mutually exclusive, figlio,” Sergio said. “Now, our-a time is drawing to a close. I wanted to-a tell you: I am, and always have been, proud of you, Peppino. Despite-a your hardships, you haven't given up. Either of you.”

He started to slowly fade away, and Peppino reached out to him. “Wait! Papa, wait, please!”

Sergio’s voice was fading, too. “You're being pulled-a back to the real world, Peppino. It's-a not your time, and won't be for a long time. Look after your brother and-a your friends, Peppino. They are as good as family.” He turned, then turned back. “Oh, one last thing…”

Peppino wiped his eyes. “Sì, Papa?”

“Tell your Mama… I'll always love her, and I'll wait as long as it-a takes for her. Tell her… take-a her time.”

Peppino nodded. “I will, Papa. Grazie. And goodbye, for now.”

Sergio waved. “I'm always-a with you, my sons. Take care of Margherita for me… and don't-a let go of those you love…”

~~~~

Paolo wandered the capsule room, alone. The others had all fallen asleep; Fake and Brando huddled together, Gustavo laying on top of Brick. Vigi crouched on Pepperman's head - apparently he'd gotten accustomed to the perch.

Or maybe he's just comforted by a friend's proximity. He paused. Friends, Paolo thought. Must be nice.

He checked the gauges, and nodded. They'd all managed to pull through. Barely.

Then he looked more closely - the regeneration process should have stopped long before, it seemed. He quickly hit an END command, and the machines hummed to a stop. Whoops. He carefully checked - while their minds were fine, it looked like they had all been physically regressed. Looks like roughly twenty years. He snorted. I doubt any of them will mind.

He walked over to the room where the Pizzamancer - my ancestor - had reigned. The room was an absolute disaster - holes, broken walls, spikes and debris everywhere.

They'd left the Pizzamancer's remains where Peppino had felled him. Good riddance. He walked over, intending to get one last kick in -

Wait. What?

He crouched and looked more closely. His wounds. They're closing. Paolo stood up, horrified. I thought we destroyed his immortality! Then he realized. Of course he'd have a backup! It's slow, but he's regenerating!

He started to run back, to warn the others… and stopped.

No. They've done their part, and more. This time, I'll take care of it.

“Tower, new command. Authorization: Paolo Totino.”

Confirmed. Awaiting command.

“Command: Tower will no longer accept or acknowledge commands or requests, both direct or indirect, from the spirit of Dominic Totino, in perpetuity. Include sub-command: any attempt by Dominic Totino, in any direct or indirect capacity, to alter or interfere in Tower technology will enact Tower destruction of compromised technology instantly. Fatal compromisation of Tower technology will enact Final Solution Protocol, subset: Tower Subquantum Annihilation. Execute.”

Execution successful. Dominic Totino’s access has been permanently rescinded. Any attempt by indicated individual to subvert indicated protocols in any way will be rendered unsuccessful.

“Command list.”

Command list verified. Awaiting command.

“First command: Tower will confirm total regeneration of all subjects currently in resuscitation, decant them, and ensure their consciousness and health. Confirm.”

Confirmed. Awaiting command.

“Command: Tower will teleport all technology, except that vital to Tower integrity, as well as control room terminal, to a stable, unoccupied location one mile outside Tower Town. Confirm.”

Confirmed. Awaiting command.

“Command: Tower will teleport all occupants, excepting the body, spirit, and mind of Dominic Totino, to a stable, unoccupied location 100 meters outside Tower Town.”

Confirmed. Awaiting command.

“Command: Tower will enact protective protocols, then teleport itself to planetary coordinates 0, 0, 0. Confirm.”

Confirmed. CAUTION: command will place Tower at the planetary core. Tower will not be accessible. Verify.

“Verified. Command: Destroy any and all teleportation technology remaining within the Tower upon arrival at previously described coordinates. Comfirm.”

Confirmed. Awaiting command.

Final Command. Tower will enact full concealment protocols. Parameters: all. Concealment will continue until rescinded by myself. Confirm.”

Confirmed. Awaiting execute command.

Paolo looked at the tubes in the room behind him, holding the barely-living bodies of his allies. The people who'd sacrificed themselves to save the world.

My friends.

He looked at the still form of the Pizzamancer, his ancestor, who'd offered him the world, but he knew in his heart would turn on him at the slightest whim.

No decision at all, really.

“Execute.”

~~~~

Peppino blinked as he felt some sort of force let him go. He fell to his knees.

Then it all rushed back to him.

Frantically he put his hand to his chest. His shirt had a huge hole in it, but of the gaping wound that had killed him, there was no sign.

What…?

He heard a coughing sound next to him. He glanced over-

Giuseppe was on his knees, coughing and shaking.

Peppino felt pure joy rise in his heart. “Fratello!!” He hopped over and snatched the man up, hugging and spinning him around. “Sei vivo! SEI VIVO!!”

Giuseppe laughed. “Put me down, Pino! I-”

He stopped, then put his hands to his throat. “The scar's still there… but I sound… normal?” Indeed, he sounded almost exactly like Peppino now. He held a hand up - his hair had grown back, and his ear had regrown, but the scar remained. “What… what happened?”

Peppino looked around. To the side, Noise and Noisette were hugging, crying. Farther along, Anita was staggering out, looking confused. “I... don't-a know. I feel… good, actually. Really-a good.” He bounced experimentally. “Better than-a I have in years, in fact.”

He looked over - Gustavo, Brick, Fake, Brando, Pepperman, and Vigi were asleep.

“Maybe we-”

Bwip

~~~~

Bwip

“-should… ask… them?” Peppino blinked.

Giuseppe looked around. “We got teleported again.” He turned, then pointed. “Just outside town, in fact.”

“That's my doing,” Paolo said, strolling up, looking smug.

Everyone turned towards him. “What did you do?” Peppino said.

Paolo polished his fingers on his shirt, and grinned. “Well, long story short, after you killed the Pizzamancer, we managed to get you and the others in the medical pods and save you. Then, while you were regenerating, I noticed the Pizzamancer was regenerating, too. So I had you all teleported here, removed all the tech from the Tower, and had it teleport and seal itself in the planet’s core.” He grinned maliciously. “He may live forever, but he'll be stuck there forever, too. In fact, I bet he's waking up to a nasty surprise, right now…”

~~~~

Dominic stirred as the regeneration power he'd engineered finally restored him to life. He pushed himself off the ground, in immense pain but alive. He grinned. A clever ruse, Raphael, but I planned for such an eventuality. He gasped just a little - he wasn't fully healed, yet. That Spaghetti fool did quite a number on me. In all his plans, he ruefully realized he'd never thought what might happen if they'd acquired two powers.

He looked around. The room was a wreck - spikes everywhere, holes blown in the walls, floor, and ceiling. And blood. Blood everywhere… but no bodies.

They must have fled. Took the bodies with them. He stretched. “No matter. I'll capture them, and they can watch as I melt the world again!” He chuckled maliciously. “Tower, Command: search for previous invaders.”

Silence.

Dominic looked upward. “Tower, Command.”

Nothing.

Dominic felt the first tingle of fear run through his heart. I know that boy Paolo was controlling some of the Tower's functions. Surely he couldn't…

Dominic strode over to his throne, flipping up a hidden panel on the arm. He held his hand to it. “Tower, verify access.”

The Tower was silent as the grave.

The Pizzamancer felt real panic now. “Respond, damn you! I order you to respond!”

He ran from room to room, looking for something, anything. It was all gone. Damn you, you little crumb. What have you done to my Tower??

Finally, he entered the medical lab where he knew the other Ninda had been controlling things. Despite being mostly empty, a single screen glowed.

Aha. A fatal mistake, boy. All I need is one… Dominic strode over and touched the screen.

The screen made no sound, gave no response. Instead, it showed a message:

Many-times-great-Grandpa Dominic,

You are the most horrible, vile person I've ever met. You deserve an eternity in hell, but you seem to have found a way to avoid that. So, I've created one for you.

I made sure while I was regenerating everyone - they're all alive and well, by the way - that I was now the sole master of the Tower. The Tower will never again respond to you in any way. Any and all attempts to circumvent this physically will result in the Tower itself instantly destroying anything you so much as look askance at. Oh, and just to be sure, the Tower is now locked at the center of the planet, and no one, not even myself, can find it, thanks to its concealment protocols.

You wanted eternity, Dominic. You destroyed the world for it. You tried to destroy it again. You destroyed my life. Now I'm going to rebuild my life, with these people, while you sit in hell forever.

Requiescat en pace, Dominic.

The Pizzamancer stared at the screen, unable to comprehend. He looked around desperately, trying to think of a way out of his eternal prison.

As if to taunt him, a single wall had been made transparent, and he could see the truth of it: outside was a brilliant wall of liquid rock and metal, swirling and spinning.

Dominic sat down on the floor, horrified.

“No…”

He held his head in his hands.

The empty halls echoed with his rage and despair.

~~~~

Peppino sat down hard. “So, thats-a it? It's-a over?”

Paolo nodded. “It's over.”

Peppino reeled and sat on the ground.

Giuseppe stood, staring at the sky. He was clenching and unclenching his fists.

Suddenly, Gustavo was wrapped around Peppino's neck. “You're alive! You're alive, amico!”

Peppino grinned and patted his friend on the head. “Sì, Gustavo. I should-a be dead, but…” he looked up at Paolo. “I feel-a good. Is that a side-effect of the regeneration process?”

Paolo looked uncomfortable. “Well, I, uh, kind of didn't set the parameters exactly right and sort of… left you in the oven too long, as it were. The five of you have been physically regressed twenty years.”

Everyone stopped talking. Finally, Noise spoke up. “I thought I felt wrong. Dammit, I don't wanna be fifteen again!”

Noisette giggled. “Oh I dunno, hun, I didn't know ya back then, and I gotta say, you were pretty cute.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Noise perked up immediately. “Ya think? Well, lemme tell ya then, back when I was…”

Peppino turned back to Paolo, who was trying to look confident but instead looked like he wanted to run. Giuseppe walked up to him. “My voice is normal again,” he said, “and my ear’s whole, too. But the scars are still there. Shouldn't those have been healed, too?”

Paolo shrugged. “I was in a hurry. I guess the system concluded that since they didn't really impede you, they didn't need to be fixed.”

Giuseppe nodded. “Considering the benefits, I think I can live with scars.” He grinned, then reached down, hauling Peppino to his feet and into a bear hug. “We did it, fratellino!”

Peppino chuckled. “I guess-a we can say we died to save the world, eh?”

Giuseppe laughed. “Indeed we can! I should let the authorities know!” He reached down to his pocket… and pulled out a broken mess of glass and metal. “Ah, damn, my phone!”

Vigi oozed up. “No worries, big guy. I didn' get hit. I'll give ‘em a call.” He pulled out his phone, looked at it, then grinned and handed it up to Giuseppe. “Actually, how about you do th’ honors? I think one o’ the heroes of the day should spread th’ word.”

Giuseppe paused, then smiled. “I mean, don't you qualify too?” He grinned down at his friend.

Vigi laughed. “Maybe, yeah. But I think it'll sound better comin’ from you.”

Giuseppe sighed, and dialed from memory. “Second time I've saved the world…”

~~~~

All of them sat on gurneys, rocks, whatever was available, as the EMTs looked them over. Police vehicles flashed lights everywhere.

Giuseppe walked over and sat down next to Peppino, grinning. “The news hounds will be here soon, I bet.”

Peppino grimaced. “Dio ci aiuti. I don't-a know if I'm up to answering that many questions…”

Then a series of unmarked vehicles pulled up… vehicles that looked familiar. Giuseppe smiled, though a bit painfully. “Looks like Spec Ops got here first. Thank God.”

Peppino raised an eyebrow. “You're more happy the military got here first?”

“Sì. They already know most of the story. They'll just want to know what happened.”

As the doors opened, a variety of figures stepped out, most forming a cordon just in time: the dreaded news vans pulled up, the reporters swarming towards them, only to be stopped by the soldiers.

One soldier, however, stepped towards them. “Lieutenant Morelli, Major Spaghetti. Did you really do it? Did you stop this… fou?”

Giuseppe smiled. “That's right, Louis. He's gone.” He gestured at Paolo. “At least, that's what Mr. Totino told us… and I'm inclined to believe him.”

As Paolo walked up, the Frenchman blanched. “Mon dieu, Major, that's Pizzahead! How can you-”

Paolo held up his hands. “Mr… what is your name?”

The Frenchman stopped, stunned. “Er… Lambert, monsieur. Captain Louis Lambert.”

Paolo nodded. “Paolo Totino. Formerly possessed by the Pizzamancer, I was Pizzahead.” He frowned. “Please, before you arrest me, please send someone to these coordinates.” He rattled off latitude and longitude.

Lambert looked even more confused. “Why?”

“Because that's where I ordered the Tower to transport all its technology to. It's inert - it only responds to me - but it could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Lambert's eyes grew wide, and he nodded. “Give me a moment to confer with my superiors…” He turned, frantically speaking in French into a lapel mike.

Giuseppe turned to Paolo. “Quite the bombshell you dropped there.”

Paolo shrugged and grinned. “After all, it's mine, more or less. I am the Pizzamancer's direct descendant. Just don't want it causing too much trouble, sitting in a field somewhere.”

Peppino reached out and tentatively touched the Ninda’s arm. “You're-a turning yourself in? But you were brainwashed! Possessed!”

“Maybe. But it'll be better for the courts to work that out for themselves,” Giuseppe said. “It also looks better for him.”

Louis turned back to them. “We have several teams setting out now.” He gestured to the others, who gathered together. “Everyone, if you don't mind, we'd like to take you briefly into custody, for your own protection.” He jerked a thumb towards the rabid mob of reporters, and grinned wryly. “I doubt any of you will mind.”

“Thank god,” Vigi said, oozing towards a vehicle. “Can’t stand reporters.”

As the other operatives gently gathered the exhausted party into the gathered vehicles, Giuseppe, Peppino, and Louis sat down in the lead vehicle. “Pardon my bluntness, messieurs, but you look like you've been to Hell and back.” He gestured at the various holes in their clothing, specifically the giant hole in Peppino's shirt, just below the breastbone. “A blow there should have killed you, but you appear undamaged. How-?”

Peppino grinned. “Well, technically, it-a did kill me. He killed us both.”

The Captain’s eyes widened. “But how-?”

“Just drive, Louis,” Giuseppe said, grinning, “it's a long story.”

~~~~

Peppino sat in the pizzeria. The place was packed. After word of the end of the Pizzamancer's reign of terror had gotten out, people had surged out of hiding, and cities all over the world had an air of celebration.

All the others were there. Noise and Noisette were off in a corner, Noise trying not to panic as he was surrounded by clamoring fans. Noisette was firmly deflecting some of the more aggressive ones.

Pepperman and Vigi sat at a table closer by. Vigi was taking a leave of absence to recover, but several officers kept stopping by to speak to him. Peppino had never seen him look so pleased. Pepperman, meanwhile, was all but bringing down the roof with his laughter, talking of making a series of paintings to commemorate their victory.

Giuseppe and Anita sat at a table close to the counter. Margherita sat with them, and the three were talking and laughing quietly. Margherita was grilling Anita like she was interviewing the woman for a job, but Anita was taking it in stride.

Brando was moving among the customers. His smile seemed even bigger than usual. His confidence had skyrocketed since the Tower. He's earned it, Peppino thought happily.

Fake was in the kitchen. They had split up into five again, each moving with purpose. With the burden of secrecy off them, they were much more relaxed.

Gustavo stood on a stool next to Peppino, Brick napping beside him. He looked up at his friend and grinned. “Hard to believe just a few days ago the world was on the verge of collapse.”

Peppino sighed. “Sì.” He felt more content than he had in… he couldn't remember when.

Giuseppe looked at his watch, then waved at Peppino. “Hey, fratellino! Get the TV on, it'll be starting soon!”

Peppino grinned and grabbed the TV remote. “Go get-a Fake from the kitchen, would you, Gus? He'll-a want to see this.”

Gus nodded, hopping down as Peppino turned on the TV. It was a new, large flat-screen - his old one, the old reliable purple one, had finally given out.

At least I can afford it, now.

Gus returned with Fake, who was wiping their hands. “What did you need, Peppino?”

“You should-a see this, amico,” he said. As he spoke, the sitcom that had been playing was interrupted. “This is a National News Special Report…”

The entire pizzeria grew quiet.

The President herself stepped onto the podium, the reporters’ cameras flashing like lightning as they waved and smiled. Finally, the cacophony quieted, and they spoke.

“Good evening, everyone. We'll try to keep this brief but accurate.”

“Approximately three days ago, a group of citizens discovered a way to reach the mobile base of the international terrorist known as the Pizzamancer, who had been terrorizing the entire planet for weeks.”

“While military intervention was considered, it was decided that a small group, with intimate knowledge of the Pizzamancer and his technology, would infiltrate the Tower and stop him.”

Anita chuckled. “Like we gave them a choice.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

Giuseppe snorted. “They're just covering their asses so they don't look incompetent. Gotta keep up appearances, after all.”

“This group was successful due to the effort of many individuals, including the person once known as Pizzahead.”

The crowd of reporters started an uproar, but the President waved them down. “Let me explain. Using Old Technology, the Pizzamancer had, for all intents and purposes, possessed a man named Paolo Totino, his descendant, and forced him to perform the deeds Pizzahead perpetrated. Mr. Totino is currently in custody of his own volition, and we are investigating.”

The President cleared her throat. “While security concerns mean we are unable to release most of the details at this time, due to the singular nature of the aggressor, there should be no fear of reprisals, and as such, we spoke to the individuals involved about revealing themselves. Some few have elected to remain anonymous, and we will honor that request. Others have given us permission, and as such, we wish to honor them publicly.”

The entire pizzeria looked at Fake and cheered, who blushed. “We felt the world at large was not quite ready for our… nature,” Fake muttered.

Peppino put a hand on their shoulder. “It's Ok, amico. We all know what you did.”

“First, we have Major Giuseppe Spaghetti. A decorated hero of the Great War, whose deeds are so myriad listing them all would take all night.”

The reporters, as well as the pizzeria audience, both laughed. Giuseppe blushed, but laughed as well.

“Not only is he a decorated hero of the War, he is one of the founders of our Special Operations branch.”

The crowd cheered, and Giuseppe smiled.

“Next, we have another retired veteran, Lieutenant Anita Morelli. Again, a highly decorated member of our military forces during the Great War, she had retired as well. Recently she returned to assist in this time of crisis, and served a pivotal role in the success of this mission.”

A round of applause made the tiny woman blush herself. “No need for all that,” she muttered.

“Next, we have Mr. Theodore Noise.”

Noise hissed. “Stop announcin' my real name, ya-”

Noisette innocently swatted Noise in the back of the head, and the crowd laughed. He sat up, grumbling, but didn't continue.

“Many of you know him as the owner, and occasional star, of NTV.” The reporter crowd cheered, and Noise smiled in satisfaction. “Being a former employee - and victim - of Pizzahead, and by extension, the Pizzamancer, he joined the other former Pizza Tower Bosses, as they were known, in the assault.”

“An’ they can pay me back in visibility,” he quipped.

“I think-a you're visible enough already, gremlin,” Peppino snorted.

“The next member was the internationally-acclaimed artist, Phillip Pepperman. Another former inhabitant of the old Pizza Tower, he lent his immense strength to the effort.”

Pepperman preened, but unusually, said nothing.

“Joining him was Vigert L. Lannte, Sheriff of Tower Town. Another former Boss, and a gifted marksman.”

Vigi practically gleamed with repressed pride.

“A new player on the field was Mr. Brando Tagliatelle. A man with a personal grudge against the Pizzamancer, we have recently discovered that the disappearance of Mr. Bruno Tagliatelle, his father, was the work of the Pizzamancer - he captured, and killed, the man. The younger Mr. Tagliatelles then joined the battle, avenging his lost family.”

The audience, both TV and pizzeria, murmured in shock. Peppino put his hand on the young man's shoulder. “Are you sure you're Ok with-a such a public confession, ragazzo?”

Brando shrugged and smiled. “It's honestly a relief.” He glanced at Fake, and grinned, if a bit weakly. “And it's not like it's a total loss.” He'd informed his mother the day before, and she'd been disconsolate. “Mama will finally grieve… assuming she remembers.”

“Another member, Mr. Gustavo Farina, you may recognize from the destruction of the original Pizza Tower.”

The crowd cheered and Gus blushed furiously, ducking behind the counter. Peppino laughed and poked the gnome. “You-a knew you were going to be mentioned, amico.”

Gus blushed but smiled.

The President grinned. “And last, but certainly not least, was the leader of this movement, Mr. Peppino Spaghetti.”

The pizzeria erupted in applause. Peppino chuckled.

“The destroyer of the original Pizza Tower, himself a veteran himself of the Great War, and brother to the previously mentioned Mr. Giuseppe Spaghetti. Despite the terror involved in again brain g the Tower, he not only led the expedition, but dealt the final, decisive blow to their opponent, nearly at the cost of his own life.”

Giuseppe quirked an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Peppino wave his hand. “You know what would-a likely happen if word got out that we died and-a were resurrected. Everyone in-a the world would be fighting over that Old-a Tech.”

“We, as a nation and as a world, cannot express how indebted we are to these people. Evidence discovered in the Tower indicate that the Pizzamancer was responsible for what we know as the Plague of Spite, which nearly wiped out the world 2500 years before. We have evidence that he was designing a new plague, even more deadly, but the effort of these individuals stopped him, and destroyed the plague.”

The shouting reached a deafening pitch. Peppino and the others hadn't said anything about the plague. Now the back-slapping and clapping was downright feverish.

The President stood smiling while the cacophony wore down, then cleared her throat. “Mr. Spaghetti reached out to us just yesterday and asked us to drive one point home: it was the former Pizzahead who destroyed the plague.”

The room went dead silent, then broke out in a raucous barrage of questions, but the President waved them down. “A full statement will be issued to all media outlets after this announcement.” She paused, looking down, then back up. “I say again, the world cannot adequately express how much it owes to these people. However, I have moved to have that day declared an international holiday. While we haven't heard back from all nations, all the ones who have have been vogorously in favor.”

The audience cheered, but Anita snorted. “Wonder what they'll call it?”

Gustavo chuckled. “Knowing them, probably ‘Pizza Day’ or something like that. Sounds ridiculous.”

Peppino crossed his arms. “It-a would be appropriate, though.”

“To all of you, if you're watching…”

All of them sat up straight.

“I would like to personally say: Thank you. We are forever in your debt.”

The audience roared with approval.

~~~~

Later that night, Peppino sat on the roof of the pizzeria. Fake was downstairs, taking care of the stragglers. Everyone has gone home - even Gus and Brick had left.

Except Giuseppe. He sat beside Peppino, watching the sky. Fireworks were exploding everywhere, celebrating the final destruction of an enemy who'd held the world in fear for millenia.

For once, Peppino didn't cringe at the explosions. The voices were silent.

Both men swung their legs, smiling, watching the display. “Hard to believe this is-a for us,” Peppino said. “I'm-a not used to being… an international hero.”

Giuseppe chuckled. “You get used to it. People will calm down after a while, but… well, for me, I was only known in the military, before. Now… now we're known everywhere.” He turned. “Don't be surprised if you get flooded for a while.”

“Ah. Maybe I should-a order more stock, then,” Peppino said ruefully.

Giuseppe laughed out loud. “Peppino, you just saved the world. Not us. You. Take some time off, or something!”

Peppino laughed but shook his head. “I've-a taken enough time off in my life, living in-a my own doubts and fears. Trapped in-a my own head.” He watched the brilliant bursts of light above, and for the first time in over twenty years, he enjoyed them.

“From now on, I want to live.”

The two men sat back, watching the world express its relief and joy.

~~~~

Peppino, Gustavo, and Brick slowly walked up the hill towards the pit where the Tower had stood. Gus carefully cradled the small purple egg that the Tower had given them. “Are you sure they'll be here?” Gus said.

Peppino nodded. “Believe it or not, Gerome has a cell phone, and he called me. He said they're-a gonna build a house up here.” He looked around. “Something about ‘good rock’ here…”

As they topped the last hill before the rise to the cliff, they could indeed see the beginnings of a house. Stone, of course, but Peppino was surprised to see it was purple.

As they approached, they saw John lift up a block and place it on top of the wall. The world seemed to shift, and the rock changed, reshaping to fit the ones below tightly.

“Well, if-a nothing else, you could make a killing building stone monuments,” Peppino said cheerfully.

John turned, smiling. “Hey there, Peppino.” He yelled. “Hey! Gerome! They're here!”

From around the corner came… another slab of stone, with two small legs working busily underneath. John lifted the stone, and Gerome, who'd been underneath, saluted. “Hey.”

Peppino's eyebrows shot up. “How-a were you carrying that, Gerome?”

John chuckled. “Gerome's stronger than me, what do you mean?”

The three stared at the taciturn little man, who said nothing. Then they all shrugged. “Ah, well, we just came up because… well, we have something for you…”

~~~~

John held the small purple egg, which was shivering gently above his cupped hands. “Well, will wonders never cease. The old ones in the Tower left us a present.”

Gerome walked up and put a hand on his brother's hip. “Not a present, John. A future.”

“What is it?” Gustavo said.

“It's… exactly what it looks like, sort of,” John said. “It's an egg… but it's also an idea.” He stood. “With this, our people… the Litha… can be reborn.” He looked ready to cry. “It'll take years… but…”

Gerome looked up and gave one of his rare grins. “We won't be the last anymore.”

John looked down, tearing up, and nodded. “Yup.” Then he held the egg down at Gerome's level. “You want to do the honors?”

Gerome gently took the egg, holding it carefully.

Peppino, Gustavo, and Brick held their breath…

Then Gerome chucked the egg into the pit.

Peppino and Gustavo both gasped, and Brick squeaked her own surprise. “Gerome, what-a the-”

Gerome dusted off his hands. “It's OK. It'll embed in the rock below. This is good rock for us Litha. That egg’ll spread itself out through the rock, an’ in a year or two, we'll see the first new ones climb out.” He looked happier than they'd ever seen him. “Thank ya, Peppino. For gettin’ us out, and givin’ us hope.”

John roared with laughter and slapped Peppino on the back. “Yeah! We got a new beginnin’ because of you! Things are looking up!”

Peppino looked over at Gus and Brick, who gave a thumbs-up. “Yeah, they really are, aren't they?”

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im-marijuana · 7 months ago

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ninda

#im-marijuana

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yourmeltedsunsets · 3 months ago

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I’m not certain, but I think that my Mama and Papa were in their 50’s when they adopted me.

Mayo pakong aram kan mga panahon na ito, but I think that it was the most exciting day for them — and same man sakuya simply because it was a new beginning for me. Not that I’m discrediting the womb that I came from, it’s just that, para sakuya man kaya, that was the day and time that God clothe me with a totally different life. Something that is unique and extraordinary. I’d say, something greater than the life that I would’ve gotten from the other side.

I had a great childhood ~ kung ano man si mga nagigibo kan younger parents, dawa may edad na sila Mama and Papa, nagibo man ninda ito.

Pick me up from bed dawa magabat ako.

Give me a bath whenever I feel lazy getting one on my own.

My papa, he would play with me all the time.

He sends and picks me up at school.

He would take me for a ride with his bicycle.

Sometimes he would take me to his workplace kung ang pipinturahan na harong is just within the area.

He is a great painter by the way. He can tell how and what colors need to be mixed in order to get a particular tint. It was like a natural, innate skill of his, despite of the fact that he was an undergrad. It’s one of the things he’s greatest at. He is actually known for it. I remember, retired na sya sa pag pintura, may mga tao padin nagdidigdi samo ta gusto siyang kuanon para mag trabaho. Since dae nya na kaya ta nagluluya na an pag hiling, people would just come to our house and ‘consult’ nalang pag abot sa mga gagamiton na kulay and klase ning paint na pang kahoy, simento or bakal. Also, maski nuarin, dae lamang ko kayan narapado. NEVER ako kayan kinulugan maski sarong beses.

He is a great dad and is still being one.

My mama naman would buy things and dresses dawa dae baragay ta grabeng pagkatutong ko kadto. Iyo man yan ang pambawi nya ta pirming mayo ta school principal baya. She never failed to show her support for us. She would take me and my brother to Naga (almost every month) ~ for McDonalds, Naga Restaurant, minsan makakan duman sa Master. Babakalan bado sa Robertsons (the old one na Puregold na ngunyan) or Garmas, mabakal sapatos sa Footsteps.

Simplehon lang kadto ang lifestyle.

We never knew the branded stuff. Basta pag uli, may bitbit, may masusulot na pag simba or sa sunod na pag luwas luwas.

Every December, I would hang my socks sa may bintana, would even write my wishes and post it sa may pinto because “Santa Claus” is coming to town. I believed it for years. It was innocent, hopeful and exciting years kase, you always had this notion that by the end of the year, may maabot talaga na nakasakay sa sled, may reindeer and dara na si gift na gusto mo. I remember, minsan na din ako nagsäbit sako ta sabi ko gusto kong bike. Though mayo man nag abot na bike, kan nagdaradakula na ako, si Fuji bike na ni papa ang nagagamit ko.

These are just fractions of my childhood. Glimpse of my innocent years and the younger years of my Mama and Papa and kung paano sinda naging magurang samuya. Sobrang blessed and grateful na sinda ang naging magurang mi. They sent me and my brother to good schools and university. They provided everything that we needed. Supported everything that we wanted. Gosh kala ngani kang iba, mga spoiled kami. I’d say I was the favorite child tho. I didn’t had any scholarship when I was in college (so I didn’t have to maintain grades) didn’t even have to work ~ I was a full ‘Scholar ni Mama’. Which was a little different from my Kuya’s. If I’m not mistaken, scholar sya kadto so need nya mag maintain grades, nag part time din yan sa Jollibee. Dae yan sako pinaranas ni Mama. All I had to do was to study, eat, sleep and repeat with a weekly allowance of 1500 to 2000 pesos. She even bought me a Windows and Apple computer. Sobrang boot and supportive ninda sako.

Sadly, my mom passed away in 2020. Cancer took her. I remember the phone call I received, August 1st. That was the day I approved my mom’s DNR. Painful and heartbreaking decision ever but it was for the best. Dae naman siya mararahay digdi sa ibabaw. Naisip mi kadto, masakit lang din siya in the long run kung lalagan pang tubo ta nagtutubig na si lungs nya. I missed the chance na makabawi man lang saiya. Although I started working right away after mag graduate at the age of 19. It was just 5-short-years that I was given para makabawi saiya. Sobrang lïpot. She didn’t even saw the plaques of certificates and commendations I’ve acquired in my chosen field.

Ngunyan si Papa nalang ang natatada.

Halos gusto ko nang burutungon ang panahon to be stable sa gabos na aspect.

I may have wasted some good years sa ibang bagay, prioritized other people na dae ko man dapat ininot, pero iba ang pressure talaga pag nag gugurang na ang parents. Iniisip mo, pano ka mabawi when you don’t even have enough means. Although, I know, money is NOT the most important thing in the world, but it affects everything that is. Food, healthcare and even simple things such as clothing and other material things, of course, you want the best for them. Especially, when it comes to things na dae pa ninda naranasan and gusto mo iparanas ta nuarin pa.

I know God has a plan for me. And I believe dakul pang taon ang nakalaan sakuya. Sa ngunyan, mayo akong ibang gusto saka pangadyi, kundi ang maparahay si Papa saka maglawig pa ang buhay niya. Sana mahalat niya pa and mahiling ang mga maarabot pang achievements ko sa buhay. Dawa siya nalang makahiling and makaexperience kan gabos na dae ko naparanas ki Mama…

Dawa siya nalang.

PS: Take care of your parents. They won’t be around forever. Treasure every moment na yaon pa sinda and nakakaibahan mo pa. You don’t wanna live the rest of your life na pano ning regrets. They were once our feet, hands, everything especially kan kita nga saradit pa.

Though I know norms and traditions are changing, pero sana dae mabago an kaugalian ta pag abot sa pag ataman nin magurang.🤍

#life quotes #my writing #family #poets on tumblr #strongsoul #life lessons #love quotes #parenting #thought daughter #youngest sister

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paradox-egoria · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐭𝐬𝟒

Bem, eu também crio skin para o jogos TS4. Faço elas baseado em ator/atriz/modelo que eu costumo usar em meus rpgs de escrita. Essa piteuzinha é a Carmen (Madeline Ford), uma OC que tem uns 5-6 anos e que já criei no TS4 5 anos atrás, mas agora eu finalmente fiz a skin dela. Ela é a neném da momoin! Coisa ninda!

#ts4skin

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goddessofroyalty · 2 years ago

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Well my idea is based kn the fact that Sephirith is known as th3 Calamity's Son. What if in turn Cloud is known as the Son of Gaia and it wasn't just soem title someone made up. He isn't a Cetra, but he's still Gaia's son the same way Sephirith is Jenova's, ita jsut somewhat healthier cuz Gaia isn't trying to use Cloud as a puppet to destroy the world with the planet just really, Really likes this ine dude who keeps fighting back the Calamity and ninda decides to become his psuedoparent in a way. This in turn only goes to amplify Sephiroth's obsession because he sees Cloud as another God and his equal, therefore a perfect mate, much to Cloud and Gaia's own distaste because Gaia has become somewhat protective of her favorite nonCetra and the only reason Seph can even get close is cuz Cloud is sadly the only one strong enough to stop Seph.

TLDR: Let Cloud be Gaia's favorite and have her he overprotective and disapproving of Jwnova and her son trying to court him (sorry if it don't make since I wrote this at like 5 am)

I mean there's definitively evidence in the canon that Cloud is someone chosen/special to the planet at least after the events of the main game. So I could definitively see that ending in the form of him being effectively treated as it's champion.

Sephiroth is absolutely using it to justify/feed his obsession with Cloud. And I can honestly see him coming to the conclusion that Cloud was always going to end up Gaia's chosen champion - that is why Cloud was the only one able to defeat him and why their destinies are so clearly intertwined. And I mean how many mythologies start with two dieties of opposites coming together? Of course Sephiroth's next logical step is that he and Cloud are destined mates (probably continuing with a logic of through them a new planet/world will be created).

While I do think Gaia would probably get protective of her chosen champion generally there is probably a slightly pragmatic level of there's only so often you can throw a champion of destruction and a champion of life together before you are going to get something weird and possibly reality warping happening. And Gaia kind of wants to have things return to the status quo which is the exact opposite of that.

But the only person who has a chance of defeating Sephiroth is Cloud so Cloud has to go face him whenever he drags himself back up from the afterlife. Which Sephiroth of course loves - he wants to see what will happen when he and Cloud do trigger something new in their clashing and is very interested in seeing what a different kind of union between them will cause.

#sefikura #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy VII #FFVII #Sephiroth #cloud strife #Ramblings of the Goddess #Q and A with the Goddess #SephCloud

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isadays · 11 months ago

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Hoy es 14 de febrero, falta muchísimo para tu cumpleaños pero desde este día tan especial quiero comenzar a decirte que estoy muy emocionado por tu día tan especial, y es que hoy en específico nació el amor de mi vida, la persona que me hace tan feliz pero sobre todo, la personita perfecta del mundo.

Te amo, te amo como no te imaginas y estoy muy nervioso de que te guste por qué no sé hacer cositas muy nindas pero te mereces mucho por qué eres mucho, te amo y espero no te canses le leer jiji, TE AMO!!

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mahayanapilgrim · 1 year ago

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The eight worldly conditions - 03

Praise (pasansa) and blame (ninda)

Unenlightened worldly beings are eager to receive praise from others around them and react to them with delight and craving, while feeling unhappy and dejected when they hear any criticism, disapproval or blame about themselves or their activities. This is due to the wrong belief that one's happiness, worth and recognition in the society depends on the validation and approval that they receive from the others in the form of praise. Even if one's behaviour and actions deserve to be criticised and disapproved, one is unable to receive them and correct oneself. They are also ignorant of the fact that it is natural for all human beings to receive both praise and blame sometime during their life in small or large quantities. The Buddha has stated that there is no one in this world who is always praised or always blamed during one's life time.

There are many instances in the Buddhist literature where even the Buddha was blamed and accused by many people.

Pleasure (sukha) and pain (dukkha)

The natural tendency of the unenlightened worldly beings is to enjoy pleasant sensations and to reject any unpleasant sensations. They are preoccupied with pleasurable sensations received from the external objects such as pleasant visual objects, sounds, smells, tastes, touches and mental objects through the six sense doors of the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body and the mind. When they receive pleasant objects they react to them with desire, delight and craving for even more pleasant experiences. At the same time, they react to any unpleasant experiences with ill-will, aversion and rejection. They react thus due to the false belief that pleasant experiences are necessary for one's success and happiness and the unpleasant experiences are detrimental to one's success and happiness in life. This is due to the ignorance of the universal characteristics of any physical and mental phenomena that; they are impermanent (anicca), unsatisfactory (dukkha) and lack any substantiality (not-self).

It is also due to the wrong belief that one's happiness and unhappiness are caused by one's pleasant or unpleasant external experiences in life. Both pleasant and unpleasant sensations are associated with suffering to the person experiencing them. The unpleasant sensation is suffering by it's very nature, while the pleasant sensation will lead to suffering when it ceases due to it's transient nature. The Buddhist teaching does not advocate denial or avoidance of any pleasant experiences altogether, but to experience them with equanimity with no craving or attachment for pleasant experiences or aversion for unpleasant experiences with an understanding of their conditioned and transient nature.

#buddha #buddhist #buddhism #dharma #sangha #mahayana #zen #milarepa #tibetan buddhism #thich nhat hanh

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lebensmoode · 2 years ago

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Demi apa mimpi jalan bareng Jung Hae In. Trus digangguin mulu sama cewe2 di sekitar karna banyak yg iri, bahkan sampe hp gw diambilin dan jilbab gw dirampas 🥹

Hae In udah ngebelain banyak, sampe baku hantam HAHA YA ALLAH HW LU SOKAP. Tapi di cerita itu gw ngerasanya kayak udah deket sama doi, doi juga sering rangkul. DAN TIAP DIGANDENG GW KEPIKIRAN LAH GW KAN DAH PUNYA COWO, INI GW BERANI BGT GONDANG GANDENG COWO LAIN??? Trus setan bisikin "tapi dia cakep kan?? Lu gabisa nolak kan?? Ya khan??"

*help*

Btw pernah main kuis random sama Rubby, pertanyaannya tu what if your gf was dreaming abt her celeb crush. Doi jawab gak keganggu sama sekali. Berarti ini harusnya gpp dong ya?? Lah Hae In udah kayak karakter fiksi aja kalo ceritanya begini mah 🥹

Endingnya tragis btw, pas lagi di jalan pulang dan neduh sebentar, lagi2 kami disamperin sama a group of girls yg ngajak berantem. Hae In diseret buat berantem masuk ke ruangan gitu sama satu cowo, trus satu cewe nindas gw. Bolak balik gw celingukan nyari Hae In ke dalem, kagak ada. Cuma ada penampakan darah di lantai yg menggumpal banyak.

SAD 😭

Bahkan di mimpi pun kisah menyenangkan berakhir horor.

SAD KUADRAT 😭

Tapi memilih senang aja lah, kapan lagi mimpi dirangkul sama babang Hae In hwehehehehe

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empthylee · 2 years ago

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Azula Beastman Ashes🐺🔔🐺

#Elden Ring #The Tarnished #Ninda the prophetess #beastmen of Farum Azula #Azula Beastman Ashes

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444names · 2 years ago

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the entire article on osman i from wikipedia in turkish BUT with (most) diacritics removed

Abahmaya Abanıtımıs Akanyar Akcebeyen Akdek Akili Aklarafete Akleri Aktadıgına Akteperin Alamıs Alaracher Aldcakselen Alesim Aligisez Anaradenic Anist Anıtle Aradlarını Asangruda Askeye Asıgı Asılı Asınım Atmekip Atorek Atorlar Atunu Ayanmalipe Ayaran Ayrında Babdu Bactiklari Bahalliki Bantin Baradinini Barceblu Barini Basalirdi Basiki Basinyadan Baskefezi Baskii Batımıstin Batır Bekenlıcina Belerilamıs Berid Berilmut Beyilin Beyli Biceper Bildıne Biler Bileris Bilibasınlı Biligi Biliki Bilirli Bilmack Bilmamluna Birihli Birlenik Birli Birmisin Bizisayi Boyleri Boynan Bulası Buldiza Bulini Bulmen Bulun Bundende Bunun Bunusturu Buresi Burmes Bursavrid Buyunan Cadır Cakabirlin Ceptınde Ciriya Cismuth Cizlu Cları Cocek Coken Comakilesik Comanevs Cıkarinda Danyaptir Dasını Dekis Delerdegiz Delerlekiya Denzenin Derilgeli Derine Deslanmi Doglarına Dogonran Dogucak Doktek Dolmaldir Donun Donur Donyayıp Dunmal Dustuldi Dımca Dırlduz Dısmaya Edaydir Edderlir Edigitlem Ediresik Ekemrimesti Elcininda Eldeliginin Emaclarına Erincildını Erles Eselbir Esimsah Esivi Esiylart Etigi Etilgud Etini Etmanları Evasınde Evler Fahin Fahir Fakin Farımsı Ferilerin Fetift Fetirme Floyli Founu Furad Fızlık Gahaitir Gecek Gecirmesi Geciverinin Gecli Gelde Geler Gelerletik Gelgerlin Gercekter Geren Gerip Geyeri Gilmisah Girldizis Gocih Gonesi Gonevler Gozoreciydi Gucukracık Gulmelgini Guthsah Guyayen Hailge Halnundır Halıp Hamic Hanlaye Hanmeden Harına Haskınınım Hasızı Hellemik Herdugu Heustır Hirne Histopha Hulme Ichirmemek Idagı Idizide Ihtısman Ildiken Ilerdebirsi Impactehlı Iseli Isiyastır Isligi Ispiterini Itarco Itigi Ivasandes İcik İstirlar İtbululun Kakceleri Kaldiatır Kaldulk Kaldın Kalleri Kaneri Kanesren Kapıldip Karinda Karınını Kaslarına Katmek Kattinda Katına Kayak Kayap Kaybac Kaylerce Keleyete Kethse Kitarleli Komincundak Kompasat Kompazi Komuzlun Konan Konda Konden Koneski Kordenine Korisi Kosma Kosman Koylin Koyuklen Koyuksen Koyuna Kralma Kumde Kurasıgı Kuratin Kurman Kurne Kustası Kutanmevni Kzyıstime Kılaraktek Kıncin Kıtırımlub Kıyap Kızlerin Layıda Madıgıyıp Manda Masti Medigi Mekenarı Mektin Melindan Mellibarı Menden Merles Mettorhlat Mincak Mirmismi Miser Mistidi Mucatsı Mununucak Musme Mustirda Mutal Neddirl Nedid Neshucuk Neskeyipek Ninda Nlıgı Nratibile Ocukarkara Oktekfır Okumasınde Olereldu Olgecetesi Olgeolmedi Olmaligi Olmisar Olopkasıl Olugu Oluklayınme Olunakoya Olusuz Orden Orebenmas Orkumucakce Oslas Osmadde Osmıs Ostanla Osyanslen Ottir Oylilirber Ozeri Padır Panım Pasiktabis Permeklemet Pirinyat Plukna Polarmeyip Powikleyi Precek Pının Redir Rencına Rolatiki Rolulmar Sablustan Safiysi Sagları Saimiligi Salmalmar Sarıoser Satihci Savak Sayakiligil Sayigiti Sazimpit Sehinicen Sehrilayat Sehurup Semirlambe Semrilanlı Seradır Seyenimsa Seyet Seyip Seyiped Siksi Sincı Sinda Sinece Sinici Sirdu Sivii Soglans Sogrunurak Soguzeniz Sonda Sonisan Sorebezlisi Soykur Soyluguni Sozenin Spekiv Suddini Sulanıt Sullar Sululdıgı Sunda Sununulur Suruya Tabireteri Tacak Tadakısansı Tahir Taktini Talmun Taloverdil Tanda Tarleki Tarınından Taslartarhi Tedik Tehmesi Temekte Tenda Tenines Teyeri Toguluk Tomuhac Topların Toporildi Topre Tosmasaya Tralaydirel Tunda Turmaliglak Turne Turtek Turtler Turumlunum Ucaven Ufinedev Ugulermi Ullar Ultıgınde Unmetmez Unyapı Uylerihcift Uylerip Uzelemluk Uzuns Vadır Valdu Vansınım Vasan Verin Verire Veris Verlizi Vikkemmorda Vi̇brasız Yakay Yakip Yakletteji Yakomel Yalpartır Yalteki Yanlemia Yanlesi Yarinek Yaslayılan Yayapmıs Yayeshum Yegecmihari Yeten Yetmalayı Yolmadıgı Yolmutalı Yoncan Yongrakde Yorluguman Yorumuttı Yukle Yuntv Yuzun Yınındulnı Zadımısmala Zeles Zikkesch Zilihate Zirefir Zistıraftar

#444names #444 names

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lungsareforlove · 1 month ago

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there's Filipino already but here's my third language!

ako: nyata nindo tigaraot an kinaban!!

mga taga-ibang planeta: ta may mga tawong una ninda ingles sana an kaipuhan ninda maukudan

ako: ah sige nasasabutan ko

me: why are you destroying earth!!!

aliens: because theres people who think that english is the only language they need to speak

me: thats fair i understand

#bicol tag #ph tag #AAAAA TRILINGUALNESS I LOVE!

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phantomdoofer · 6 months ago

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Tower Town, Chapter 20 - Leftovers

Paolo sat down on a bench in one of the college's many courtyards. He leaned back, staring at the sky, and sighed.

The others were calling people, exchanging information, making plans. I can barely remember who I am. Fat lot of good I would be.

He felt more than heard someone sit down next to him. He said nothing. He didn't particularly want company.

“Come on big guy, what's eating you?” A perky voice said next to him.

He looked down - the strange woman with the pink bunny hood sat next to him. She was grinning happily.

He growled and leaned back again. “What do you want? I'm not really in the mood to humor you, you know."

He felt something shake the bench, and he heard a bonk that told him the woman had hit the bench with her shoes. Swinging her feet.

“Come on big guy, I know you're bothered by something. You wanna talk?”

He looked back down, fighting the urge to get up and walk away.

Then he paused. She's the first one who's really been nice to me since… whatever the hell this is happened. He nodded. “You're… the yellow guy's girlfriend, aren't you? Noisette, I think someone said?”

She grinned toothily. “That's me! I'm not his girlfriend though - we're actually married.” She leaned over and whispered, “my name's actually Hazel. I prefer Noisette, though.” She leaned back and smiled. “Ok, I told you a secret, now you tell me something about you!”

Paolo blinked. What is this woman? “I… still don't know. My past is… fuzzy. Not just the last few years, but everything. Who was I? What did I do for a living? How do I know all this stuff bouncing around in my head?” He shook his head ruefully. “I don't think I even have a home.”

Noisette smiled up at him. “Well, that's OK! You could stay with one of us til you get back on your feet!”

Paolo thought about the open hostility the others had shown. “I doubt that.”

Noisette made a “pshaw” motion with her hand. “Noisey has all kinds of places we don't use much. You can stay in one’a them!” Her grin took on a slightly malicious edge. “I'll just talk to him.”

Paolo didn't know how to respond. He wasn't used to people being nice to him without being paid first. How do I know that? “That's, uh, very generous of you.”

Noisette's face fell just a little. “Well… I don't blame the others for havin’ hard feelins, after all. What you did as Pizzahead was… pretty bad.” She brightened up again. “But that was this Pizzamancer guy, right? It wasn't you!”

Paolo found himself being completely truthful. “I think… part of it was me. I don't always… feel emotions right, I think.”

Noisette’s mouth made an O of surprise. “Oh. Are you one of those, what do they call them… sociopaths? Don't ya ever feel sad about anybody? Or happy?”

Paolo thought back. When have I ever had a chance to, really? I always had to put on a mask… I think? “I… honestly don't know. It never really, er… came up.”

Suddenly a splitting headache lanced through his head. He grabbed his head with both hands.

He heard Noisette's voice, but it was echoing weirdly, distorting…

“Y-y-ou OhohooOK biiiig GuYyyY..?”

Then he was looking at a young Ninda's face, pale. Feminine.

Paolo felt a flood of warmth and safety pour through him at her face.

Look at him, for once in your life, Giorgio!

A round, greasy face hove into view. Instantly the feeling changed to fear and loathing.

He's weak an’ pathetic, is what he is! He ain't gonna amount t’ nothin’!

Don't say stuff like that in front of him! You'll twist his mind!

Then he snapped back to reality.

Noisette was staring up at him, a look of mild horror on her face.

He felt something warm on his face… he reached up and wiped it away. Tears? And pizza sauce? “I… I remembered something. I think it was… my mother?” His head felt like it was splitting open. “Aagh.”

Noisette gently touched his arm. “You remembered somethin’? Your nose started bleeding.”

Paolo shook his head. “It felt… warm, for a second. Happy. Then my father showed up.” His brow furrowed. “Then it was hatred.”

Noisette nodded. “Maybe you repressed some stuff? An’ now that you're out from under the Pizzamancer, it's comin’ back!”

Paolo gripped his head in both hands. “I hope the rest of it isn't so painful.”

Noisette clapped her hands. “But that proves you've got emotions! Maybe you just… need to find ‘em again!” She hopped off the bench, waving for him to do the same. “Come on, come on! Let's go walk!”

Paolo hesitated. I barely know what's going on. These people hate me, and from what they're saying, it's not exactly unfounded. Then he paused again. Then again, I have no home, no life, and barely know who I am. What have I got to lose, really?

He nodded. “All right. Not like I can be much help here.”

Noisette hopped up and down, clapping and looking ecstatic. “Yay!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “Ok, first things first! Let's get you some fresh clothes! People are gonna be uneasy enough til they get used to ya without ya walkin’ around in that old clown outfit!”

Paolo looked down - he was still wearing the overalls and white shirt he'd woken up in, but they were ripped, stained, and, in a few places, burned. “Can't argue with you there.”

Noisette let go and started walking briskly. “I know just the place! Come on!”

~~~~

Paolo walked out of the clothing store, turning to examine himself. It was a simple outfit - slacks, a white cotton shirt, and a light coat. But the material was quality. “Gotta say, it's nice having fresh clothes.”

Noisette emerged behind him, festooned with bags. “I picked up some other outfits, too! We'll just drop them at the apartment I called ahead to, get you a key, and then,” she giggled, “I wanna show you the town!”

Paolo was still uneasy. Everyone was staring at him. What did I do to these people? “Uh, Noisette,” he said, “what… exactly… did Pizzahead do? I feel like I'm gonna be lynched.”

Noisette’s expression fell. “I… You'll have to talk to people to find that out, Paolo. I only know… a few things.” She squirmed. “He was always nice to me… but Noisey told me Pizzahead used to use me as leverage to get Noise to do what he wanted. And I heard… other things. Horrible things.” She looked pale. “Almost everyone here is from the Tower… and almost everyone here has a story. About Pizzahead.”

Paolo stared into the distance. Sweet pizza father, what did I do to these people?

~~~~

Noisette opened the door, and gestured broadly. “Ta-da! Welcome to your new digs!”

Paolo stepped inside. It was a standard apartment at first glance… but he noticed the plush couch, the giant TV, the dishes in the cabinet. He put down a bag. “And you're OK with just… letting me use this?”

Noisette nodded. “We've got a few places around for guests to use. But with the Tower floatin’ around, we're not gettin’ any visitors. “She smiled up at him. “So don't worry about it! It's all paid for!”

He hung his head. “Th… thank you. You're being… so nice to me. And if what you said is true… I don't deserve it.”

Noisette sat down, and gestured for him to do the same. “Aw, Paolo, don't be like that! It wasn't really you!”

Paolo slumped into a recliner. “That's the thing, Mrs…"

Noisette waggled a finger. “Just Noisette, Paolo.”

He nodded. “Noisette, the thing is… I don't think the Pizzamancer was totally controlling me, not until later. He was influencing me. Some of that…” he shuddered, “some of that was me. I'm not… really a good person. I…” he clutched this head. “Aagh, I can't remember who I was! It just feels like I was a bad guy!”

Noisette nodded, her smile gone. “Maybe ya were, big guy.” She hopped up, walked over, and put a hand on his knee. “Don't mean ya can't start over. Think of this as a chance to be someone else!” The toothy smile returned.

Paolo smiled back, hesitantly, then more confidently. “That's… that's a good point. Thank you.” He was silent a few moments. “I feel like you're the first person who's ever really been nice to me.”

Noisette poked him. “Maybe ya just needed a friend!”

Paolo nodded.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a standing position. “Come on, let me show you the Town!”

~~~~

As Paolo sat down, Noisette brought a plate of pastries over, a long with two cups of coffee. “Here ya go! My own recipes!”

He held up the pastry - he'd never seen one look so… lurid before. “Are you sure this is OK?”

She was already chewing on one. “Oh yeah,” she muttered around crumbs, “they're some of my best sellers!”

Hesitantly, he bit into one. A burst of flavors assaulted his mouth, and he stopped. He was picking up at least three different flavors of fruit - strawberry, blueberry, and… what is that?

As he swallowed, she grinned. “You like it?”

“I… think so,” he said. “What's that third flavor?”

“Something the gnomes cooked up. Said it was a cross-breed of a bunch of different fruits. They call them flashberries, because they really make other stuff pop!” Noisette kicked her feet. “Really gives food some bite, don't it?”

“It does.” He looked around as he sipped his coffee - everyone other than Noisette in the cafe was either glaring or looked extremely uncomfortable. He hunched his shoulders.

Noisette noticed the motion, and stood up. “Hey, everybody!” she said, “I just wanna let everybody know - I know this guy looks like Pizzahead, an’ he used to be, but he ain't Pizzahead no more! He was bein’ mind-controlled! His name's Paolo, an’ he's lost his memory! So be nice to him, OK?”

Several of the patrons’ faces shifted then, looking more sympathetic.

“He's still trying to figure out what's goin’ on, and he's gonna be livin’ here for a while!” Suddenly the smile took on a dangerous edge. “If I hear about anyone causin’ him trouble, there'll be problems, an’ I don't want that, OK? Everybody spread the word!”

Suddenly every smile was bright and shining, and everyone nodded vigorously. Paolo was bemused.

Someone came and whispered in the bunny woman's ear, and she waved. “Sorry, hun, got something I need to check on. Be right back!”

As she went into the back, a young Pig lady approached him. “So, you're not… not Pizzahead?”

Paolo shook his head. “No. Pizzahead was… partially me, but mostly the Pizzamancer. I think he took my dark side and made it… a lot worse.”

She nodded, sitting down. “And you can't remember any of it?”

As if on cue, his eye twitched as a shard of glassy pain shot through his head. He vaguely remembered seeing the woman's face… twisted in fear. “I…” he clutched this head. “I get… flashes. I saw… your face just now.” He shook his head. “Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry. But, could you tell me?”

The young Pig went pale. “You, you came to Pig City. You came to our cafe… you told us if we didn't clean it up you'd turn us into bacon.”

Paolo’s eyes went wide. “Oh Gods.”

The young woman quickly waved her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Oh, you didn't hurt us. And… your face is different now.” She stared into his eyes, and nodded. “You're different. I don't think I'm afraid of you.”

He nodded, and gave a weak smile. “Well, that's a good start, I guess.”

Suddenly the entire cafe seemed to be wanting to ask him questions, to tell him about his past. Words flew past faster than he could respond.

He couldn't take it. His head started aching. “Stop, please stop,” he whispered.

“Hey hey HEY! Everybody, back up!” he heard Noisette's voice say over the cacophony. Everyone backed up, and she gently touched his shoulder. “Paolo? You OK?”

He slowly took his hands off his head. “I'm… OK,” he said. “I'm sorry, it was just too much at once… AGH!” He grabbed this head again as more stabbing pain lanced through it, a series of jumbled images and feelings flashing before his mind's eye.

“Oof, overloaded, huh?” Noisette said. “Everybody, please, give him some space.”

A chorus of quiet apologies sounded around him, and everyone returned to their seats. Everyone spoke in hushed voices, occasionally glancing at him.

At least they're glances of concern, not fear.

His head slowly stopped throbbing as Noisette sat across from him. “Sorry,” he said.

Noisette reached across and grabbed his hand. “They never got to get this close to Pizzahead without risking their lives before. Now… they're curious. The real Pizzahead would've gone on a rampage if that had happened to him.”

He considered. “I just wanted them to stop.”

She nodded. “If that ain't proof yer not Pizzahead, I don't know what is.”

~~~~

Paolo flopped down in a chair in the apartment Noisette had loaned him. His head throbbed. He leaned back, covering his eyes. Impulsively he jumped up, flipping the lights off.

Immediately he felt better.

The whole world felt like it was too bright, too loud, too sharp. Every sensation is like a knife in my head! As he sat in the quiet dark, the throbbing slowly eased, and he found himself able to think again.

Migraines, he thought, they're called migraines.

Amazing that he could forget something even that basic.

Another memory floated to the surface, a newer one: a doctor at the hospital…

~~~~

“Mr. Pizzahead…”

“Please, don't call me that,” Paolo had said. “My name is… is… Paolo. Ach.” He'd clutched his head again.

The doctor had looked nonplussed. “Well, Mr. Paolo, I've never seen a pattern quite like this before, but it's plain you've got some noticeable brain damage, mainly to your memory regions. Please, take it easy. You may experience episodes of sensory overload. Try to stay somewhere quiet for a few days.” He'd huffed. “I'd prefer to keep you here for observation…”

Paolo had gently shaken his head. “I probably can't afford it.”

The doctor had shaken his head, as well. “Well, aside from massive memory loss, I'd say you're in good health. What will you do?”

Paolo had brushed his pocket - in it was the mysterious letter, addresses to him:

Please come to the History Department of La Crosta University immediately. It’s vital to your future. You will be cared for.

“I've got somewhere to be.”

~~~~

He'd gone to the meeting, memories floating to the surface of his mind as he walked. He couldn't even begin to guess how much he'd lost, but he'd known one thing: the Pizzamancer had ruined his life.

I'll kill him.

He looked around at the darkened room. At least he was right: I got taken care of. He considered his good fortune, that he'd taken the little rabbit’s word. He had a home… for now… he had - well, maybe not friends, but allies - to be with.

Now I just have to find out who I was as a person.

He leaned back in the chair. The seat was comfortable enough he could just… nod off…

~~~~

Paolo stood patiently as the man waited on other customers. He was nervous. Hate the man as he did, the last words of the dying were not easily ignored.

“Don't let it out of your sight. I mean it, boy! If you listen to one thing I've ever said, don't let it go…”

He shivered. It was only the second time his father had sounded scared.

“Can I help you, young man?”

Paolo squared his shoulders. My turn. He walked up to the counter. he old human across from him smiled in a friendly way. “I have something I wanted to get appraised, and possibly sell.”

The man nodded. “Very well, then. Let's see it.”

Paolo carefully took the ring out of his pocket and laid it on the counter. Just as carefully, the man picked it up, carefully fitting a jeweler's loupe to his eye. He looked the ring over. “Ohh, this is quite the treasure, young man! The workmanship is…” he paused; Paolo knew he was choosing his words carefully - the more lavish the praise, the higher a price Paolo could ask. Finally he spoke again… “passable. The ruby is… is…”

The ruby, the size of a pepperoni, glistened like old blood in the light of the shop. It had never needed polishing. It seemed to beckon to him, even now.

Paolo cleared his throat, and the man jumped. “Sorry, my boy, don't know what came over me, there. It's quite an impressive piece, but I'm not sure if I could find a buyer. I'm afraid I could only give you $5000 for it.”

Paolo kept his face blank. It's worth far more than that. He shook his head. “Now now, sir, while that's quite a generous sum, I couldn't possibly part with it for that much.”

Paolo could practically smell the man's avarice. “I… I could perhaps give you 10- no, 15,000?”

Paolo tried not to smile. He wants it, but I can get more. He reached out and gently plucked it out of the man's hands. “I appreciate your time, sir, but a man offered me $50,000 at another store. I thought perhaps you would be more honest, but I see you aren't interested.”

The man was practically salivating now. He reached out and grasped Paolo’s clenched hand. “No, no! Sorry, sorry, young man, I misspoke! Not sure what I was thinking. I'll give you $100,000 for it!”

Paolo’s heart leapt. $100,000! That would be more than enough to invest and grow in the time I have! He nodded. “Deal.”

The pawnbroker nodded, smiling widely. “Come, come, let's set up the details. I assume you don't want it in cash.”

Not if I don't want to be robbed before I get to the bank. “No, sir. A direct deposit will do nicely.”

As they worked out the details, Paolo found a strange dread gnawing at his happiness. He shook his head, looking down at the ring. Can't wait to be rid of you.

And yet the idea seemed to fill him with dread.

Finally the old man hung up his phone. “Very well, young man. Simply hand over the ring, and I'll send you the money immediately.” The old man held out his hand, expectantly.

Paolo held the ring out… and hesitated. His hand seemed to want to lock up. He swore he heard his father screaming at him.

In fact, he swore he heard a cacophony of voices screaming defiance and denial at him.

Paolo shook his head, and dropped the ring in the man's hand.

As the man smiled and cradled the ring, Paolo felt a tiny twinge of… something… in the back of his mind. As for the voices… they had gone silent.

The man reached over and tapped a few keys. “There you go, young man. $100,000. Here's your paperwork.”

Paolo took the paperwork, stood, and shook hands. “Glad to be rid of it.”

The man held the ring up to the light. “Can't imagine why! It's quite the striking piece!”

“It holds… bad memories for me.” Paolo bowed, feeling wooden and strange. “Good day, sir.”

As he walked out, Paolo felt a strange hollowness in the back of his mind. The world seemed to change and fade, growing fuzzy and distorted.

Suddenly the ground erupted, a huge, clawed hand bursting up from beneath the street.

Paolo fell backwards, screaming in terror. But the people around him said nothing, not reacting. He saw one turn…

They had no face. None of them have faces!

The hand slammed down, pulling a monstrous being up from the earth - a round, greasy body, a face picked out in pizza toppings. The strips of green pepper opened, and a roar like the furnaces of hell itself burst out.

Paolo realized that, despite being deafening and many octaves deeper, it was his father's voice.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOOOOOY?” It roared.

Paolo scrambled backwards on his hands and feet. “I - I don't know what-’

A huge hand snatched him up, holding him to the huge face. Below, the faceless masses continued about their days. The monster smashed several of them, but there was no reaction.

“I TOLD YOOOOU! DON'T LOSE THE RINNNNG!”

Paolo squirmed. “I didn't lose it! I sold it! I just- just want a life to live!”

The creatures roared in rage. “DOOMED! THE WORRRRLD IS DOOOMED BECAUSE OF YOOOOOU! HE IS IN YOU NOW! HAVE TO STOP YOOOU!”

The beast opened its maw, and flames crackled in its mouth. Paolo writhed. “NO! NO, PLEASE! I'M SORRY!”

The creature dropped him into its mouth.

As he fell for what felt like an eternity, Paolo screamed.

“I'M SORRYYYY…!”

~~~~

Paolo rocketed up from his reclined position, gasping. Frantically he patted over his body - no burns, no scrapes. He rubbed his face - it was covered in sweat and tears. His head was pounding in time with his heart. What was that? A nightmare? A memory?

Both?

He stood, stumbling over to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror - he looked haggard, tired. Behind his eyes, it felt like dull needles were being stabbed into his head.

And yet… he found memories there, too.

A pizzeria, full of joy and laughter.

Mechanical figures, dancing and singing, as he watched from the shadows, proud that the mechanical aptitude he'd hated had been useful, after all.

A growing unease, an inability to let go of the memory of the ring…

His employees, finally abandoning him after all his abuse…

Paolo grabbed his head as the throbbing got worse. Too much at once. The dream seemed to have been a catalyst, though. He was catching bits and pieces of his time as Pizzahead.

The blood, the pain, the enjoyment he'd taken in it…

All with a smile. That same damn smile.

Paolo fought not to vomit.

He glanced over at the shower. Shower would do me good.

~~~~

Paolo wandered into Noisette's cafe. A few customers cautiously waved and smiled, and he waved back, though his smile was probably a little sickly.

The memories were still surfacing, and none of them were pleasant.

Noisette herself bounced over. “Hello, Paolo! How're you…” she paused, noticing his pallor. She sat down, concerned. “Actually, maybe I should take you to the doctor or somethin’. You OK, big guy?”

Paolo grimaced. “I had… a nightmare. Last night. I remembered… selling that ring. And then my father appeared as a monster, telling me I'd doomed us all… and he ate me, dropping me in a pit of fire.”

Noisette looked horrified. “That's terrible! Let me get you some coffee and something to eat!”

He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Nothing too sweet, please. I don't think my stomach could take it.”

She nodded, and jogged off. Shortly she arrived with the aforementioned coffee, and a pair of bagels. He sipped the coffee - it had cream, but little sugar. He nodded. “Perfect.” He held up the bagels - there were small dark spots. He looked more closely. “Raisins?”

Noisette nodded, looking down. “One of the only times Pizzahead was actually nice to me was one time he came into my place inn the Tower, asking for raisins. He seemed so happy…”

Paolo felt a twinge, and he remembered - he had loved raisins as a kid. He took a huge bite of a bagel, and immediately smiled. “Guess a bit of me was coming through there. Good call, Hazel.”

Noisette immediately perked up. “So, you're remembering more about yourself?”

He nodded. “Bits and fragments. Most of it is… nauseating.” He stared at the bagel. “It's, it's giving me an idea of what the Pizzamancer is like.”

“Oh?” Noisette leaned forward.

“I thought I had trouble feeling emotions, but…” he paused. “He's… he's a complete monster. The worst kind. He's a narcissist, a sociopath, a murderer more times than I want to think about.” His stomach roiled, and he took a shot of coffee. “Honestly, it really doesn't matter how it happens, but… we can't let him stay around. We can't let him live.”

Noisette made an “O” of surprise. “That bad?”

Paolo shuddered. “Hazel, whatever you thinking is the worst that can happen… he's capable of so much worse. I was thinking he brought out my dark side, and he did, but… I think I was holding him back.” He paused, practically inhaling the other bagel in his nervousness. “Please tell me the others have found a way to find this guy.”

Noisette twiddled her thumbs. “I don't think they're havin' much luck. Giuseppe and Anita's government and criminal connections, Vigi’s old bounty hunter buddies… even Noisey’s been talking to other media people.” She shook her head. “It's like findin’ a ghost.”

Paolo slapped his hands down on the table, angry. “We have to find him! I don't- AGH!” His head felt like it was being stabbed again. Noisette jumped up, running to his side, but he held up his hand. “We can't give him time! He'll… he'll…” Paolo sat back down.

Noisette sat back down. “But, what can we do that ain't being done? We-”

A huge shadow fell over the two of them, and Noisette gasped. Paolo looked up…

A giant stood in front of him. He was enormous, a good nine feet tall, made of purple stone. He was wearing patched pants, and oddly, a small flat hat. He was looking down at Paolo with a stern expression.

Noisette gasped. “Huh? John? Pillar John? What are you doing here?”

John bent slowly, looking Paolo in the eyes. He'd heard of Litha before, but he'd never met one. They were even more rare than his own kind - it was thought there were less than a thousand left in the world. He cringed back. “Can… can I help you, Mr… John?”

John stared into his eyes, saying nothing. It felt like the giant stone man was digging into the deepest parts of his soul. Finally, he nodded. “There's a lotta damage there, but yer you again. Looks like th’ bastard really truly ditched ya.” The Litha gently sat down next to the table, gesturing for them to sit down. “I'm here fer you, pizza man. Or rather, you and yer friends.”

“My… friends?” Paolo repeated. He was so off-balance all he could do was parrot.

John nodded. “We tol’ Peppino we'd be there when he needed us, an’ he needs us. But firs’, I gotta let ya in on a lil’ secret.” He leaned closer. “Sorry, but this is gonna hurt. A lot.”

John reached out and gently grasped Paolo's head.

Paolo felt something snap inside his head, and he stood, then fell to his knees, clutching his head. Tears boiled out of his eyes. The pain was indescribable.

Noisette crouched beside him. “Oh, no! Paolo? Paolo!” She turned to a bystander. “Someone call an ambulance, quick!”

His hand shot out and gripped her arm. “N-no! No! Wa… wait…”

The pain was lessening, and a memory surfaced….

~~~~

Pillar John stood next to him, grinning.

“Now watch this, buddy.” John gently grabbed Pizzahead's arm… there was a feeling of the world bending…

And then they were standing beside Gerome.

Pizzahead was impressed. “Well, well, how'd you do that?”

Pillar John laughed. “Ah, we can do stuff like that. I can move us here ‘cause I always know where Gerome is. I can move ‘im around, too!”

Pizzahead grinned inside. He already knew it, but he'd wanted to be sure the two Litha had that level of power before he continued. It had been so long since his ‘death,’ the Litha making up the tower had all gone moribund. They were slowly falling apart. But with a fresh Litha, split up amongst the different parts of the Tower… he could have his invincible, unfindable fortress again. “Well, that's good, old rock! I've got a good job for you, then…

~~~~

Suddenly his vision snapped back to a circle of concerned bystanders… and John, who looked more solemn than he'd ever been.

Paolo reached towards him. “John… I'm so sorry. Where is Gerome?”

John nodded. “Inside the Tower.”

Paolo grabbed Noisette's arm. “Noisette, call the others. I know how to get to the Tower.”

Noisette gaped for a moment, then nodded, and quickly dialed a number. The crowd around them backed up, murmuring.

John stared at him, saying nothing.

Paolo was shaking. “John. John. The Tower. It's made out of… out of Litha, isn't it? Thousands of Litha…!”

The giant nodded. “Yeah. I talked to ‘em while I was stuck there. That's why there's so few of us now. The Pizzamancer turned ‘em all into that thing. That's why it can do some o’ the things it can do.”

Paolo felt like vomiting again. “That's… that's sick.”

John nodded again. “Now ya know why we been keepin’ an eye on th’ Tower. An’ you.”

Noisette clicked off her phone. “All right, they're in their way.”

John stood up. “I'll wait for ya where the Tower used t’ be. Lemme know when you're all ready.”

As the Litha ambled off, Noisette grabbed Paolo's arm. “You really know how to get us there?”

Paolo nodded. “I do.” He clapped his hands together. “I just hope we can finish this when we get there.”

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