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jennsmischievousmind · 3 years

Text

Vhekadla

Vhekadla : Sandy

Pairing: Mando x mirialan!reader

Word count: 4.782

Warnings: Exile, reader not good with kids, mild swearing, slight angst, self-medication (needles (once))

Summary: Peli needs components for the failing vaporator in Hangar-2, you are meant to go the moisture farm to get them. But a renown bounty hunter lands in Hangar-3.

A/N: Some references to the OG trilogy and the following one. Can’t wait to see how many you find. Let me know.

I tried not to use any gender for reader (I’m still learning about it) Text in italic = reader’s internal thoughts English is not my native language, I’m trying to get better at it, please be indulgent.

It was fun to reconnect with the lovely Star Wars nerd in me.

“A Mirialan would place a unique, often geometrically repeated tattoo on their face and hands to signify that they had completed a certain test or task, or achieved sufficient aptitude for a certain skill. The number of tattoos would thus often act as a good indicator of how mature and/or skilled a Mirialan was.”

You heard Peli calling out from the hangar, jumping down the reactor you were working on, you step on hangar 3′s threshold. Glancing through your fingers’ shielding the sun, as the pre-Imp beat up vessel lands in Hangar 3. You rolled down your sleeves as Peli look back at you.

“He doesn’t really like droids, so you’ll have to step-in.” stopping next to her you nodded, readjusting your tool belt.

Working for Peli you thought you'd seen everything in terms of species. Until the vessel's ramp lower down with a hiss, a shiny Mandalorian walking out.

Your eyes went to Peli and the approaching bounty hunter as she made her way to him grinning, awaiting for him to give her something. The tall, beskar clad individual gave a small green creature to Peli whom started to coo at it. Weird.

“Glad you decided to keep him.” She waved a finger your way giving you the go-to.

Treading to the gunship, the T shape visor of the Mandalorian followed your form, you didn’t pay much attention to it, hunters could be precious about their engines.

Plugging your datapad in the cargo bay panel you ran a quick diagnostic, looking around the ship while waiting, the hull was oddly neat you noted. The Datapad biped loudly, detailing the ships problems. This old thing was still flying, how, who knew.

“What’s with the Mirialan?"

“What can I tell? I’m going soft! Coz of your womp rat for sure.” He said nothing waiting for her to continue

“They needed the job, no questions ask. But don’t ask about the tattoos, they can be moody,”

“I heard that,” you strolled down the left telescopic gate, heading for the front repulsorlfits.

Why were they talking about you? Do they know each other much? Why a bounty hunter was carrying a child-like thing.

Stepping into the cockpit, you refrained on sitting on the pilot seat, you always felt that pilot seats were as intimate as beds. The Datapad ran a new diag, you eye the control panel, tilting your head seeing something was missing.

The Mandalorian stood tall before Peli “I have things to do!”

Peli waved him off “Yeaah go hunt, we’ll fix your ship in the meantime,”

After a few hours, drenched in sweat and sticky black goo on your hands you finally ease yourself in the cockpit “That should be good, punch it!” you yelled to the 3 pit-droids outside. After hearing the droids tripped on each other, they activated the engine, launching the hyperdrive for a last test.

The Mandalorian made his way back in the hangar just in time to see you hopping down the cargo ladder, sweeping your greasy hands on your overalls.

He couldn’t help but noticed the tattoos showing at your wrists as your sleeves had rolled up.

“This is not going to be a recurrent thing.” You heard the Mandalorian say, clearly annoyed. Approaching them, you could feel the Mandalorian was tense, Peli took the datapad you handed her, you tried your best no to stare at the broad shoulders at your right.

Finally noticing him, and his T-visor staring at your wrists, you swiftly turned around and brushed the sleeves back down; “She’s up to fly. The hyperdrive is as brain new, we made a few check-ups on the engines since they were coughing a bit,” you rounded a crate, looking back at him, your sleeves now attached to your fingers, “and the lights are back on!” you index pointed to the lamp on the ceiling.

“You’ll want a price cut, as I can see here,”

You glanced at the visor for a second, what did Peli ask him to do? “Fine,” he sighed.

“Go to the moisture farm and get my parts,” she patted at his pauldron, “you’ll be his guide.“ you were so engrossed in Peli’s friendliness with the bounty huinter that it didn’t click immediatly. Until it did.

“Hold on, what?” voice rising a notch “I told you I’d go,.. alone!” you argued

“With all the recent things happening in this forsaken desert, I’d rather not send you alone.”

Stepping closer to Peli, your back to the Mandalorian, you stared at her, she stared back, not having it. She knew you could take down a Gamorrean if needed.

“Boss, …”

“For Force’s sake don’t argue with me,” She shooed you away, you knew she wouldn’t let go.

“You still have that speeder bike?” his modulated voice rang in your back as you made your way to the fresher to clean yourself up.

Peli snarled “I’m gonna start renting it.”

Waiting near the speeder bike, Peli handed you the credits to pay for the binary brain unit and humidity sensor, she needed it for the vaporator in H-2. The moisture farm you were heading to had the parts since they owned the same vaporators.

“You can trust him,” she nudged her jaw to the approaching Mandalorian.

“I’ll be the judge of that,”

“He’s like family, call him Mando,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. Peli wouldn’t leave the city walls since the Empire fell, so obviously it became your task to get the parts or hardware from out of the walls. Before that she’d lost a few droids in the desert.

The Mandalorian rounded the speeder, securing a bag on the right side, a green little head popped out of it.

“I don’t think ‘it’ should come, if we encounter any bandits or raiders.”

The thing looked at the his keeper “Don’t worry about that, he’s seen worse.”

You turned to Peli, eyes widenned and flailing hands. She shrugged her famous grin on. Head lolling back and squeezing your eyes shut you let out a sigh then swiveled to him. “I drive, you shoot?” you ask adjusting your scarf around your mouth and nose.

“What?” he genuinely asked. Shaking your head amused you nod your head to the main seat for him to take. It'll be easier to hold him than him hold you.

Straddling the speeder you felt tiny behind him, the beskar was cold even under the twins suns, a gurgle took your attention off the reflecting beskar in front of you. Wrinkled critter.

Keeping a grip on Mando’s side you check the Holo map as the speeder bike hovered at its fastest speed. Gesturing at Mando to indicate the path, the moisture farm would be visible in a few visvia. A glare caught your eye a second too late, you flew from the speeder, crashing hard against the burning sand. Between your grunts and those of the Mandalorian you heard Tusken Raiders' howls.

Groaning you hold your ribs rolling on your good side “Freaking dehydrated Raiders!” The little green being was confused a meter from you, sadly sat on the sand. “Mando, your .. kid,” his broad shadow came into view, soon scooping the child.

Finger at the trigger you look up at the cliffs “Thought you were friends with them!”

The Mandalorian was trying to salvage the speeder bike while you looked at the map for a safer and faster path, still eyeing the cliffs now and then. “Don’t bother, engine’s burnt.” Greeny made a worried sound.

“The tuskens, they are the shoot first, ask question later kind of people,” he posted himself on your right, you glanced at him stealthily. Even without seeing his face, his demeanour showed he was pissed off.

“You both have something in common,” you sheath your blaster in the small of the back holster.

“What?” you sensed it took it the wrong way, so quickly clarified “Showing skin is not allowed,”

“Just as your not allowed to show your tattoos!” he riled back.

Your head jerked back, you were not expecting the backlash. You stalked past him, “We should go, the farm ain’t far!” putting as much distance between you and the bounty hunter.

The Mandalorian regretted his words as soon as they came out. He surely was the last one to have a say about others’ customs and beliefs. Your behavior somehow disarmed him, he didn't know how to act anymore.

The suns were getting low in your back, you thank the maker your body was acclimated for dry lands. The hair at your nape rose in a instant, you looked back at the horizon standstill for a few seconds.

"We must take shelter," you whispered. The green critter tilted his head to you followed by his Mandalorian whom picked up your words through his enhanced helmet.

"Sandstorm!" you ran past him, heading for the rocks ahead.

Pulling your large scarf around your face, the Mandalorian was hot on your tail, you realized you wouldn’t like to be one of his bounty, his impressive broadness and the heavy beskar made you shivered. Sliding between two big rocks, you fumbled with your water jug, quickly wetting your scarf around your mouth. The Mandalorian soon joined you with a distorted groan, the baby oddly excitied about the run out was babbling.

"Here," you wet a rag you kept in your rucksack handing it to to him. "It’ll need it," taking the rag from your hand he gently folded it and wrapped the child’s mouth and pointy ears. A gust of hard wind and sand hit the rocks, the light disappearing instantly you found yourself enveloped in a dusty copper shadow. Clenching your eyes shut, your hands immediately went to the child's eyes. You felt his little hands holding onto yours. It’s not a game you thought. The sand was hard on the few uncovered patches of skin on your face, but it soon stopped. You could still hear the wind, the sand rattling the rocks but you couldn't feel it anymore. Opening your eyes carefully, your head jerked back. Beskar. The T visor of his helmet was staring at you. Looking up you saw his arm holding his cape around you three. Your hand unconsciously slowly slipped from the child's eyes. Your reflection was staring at you with wide eyes, its closeness made you uneasy yet not unwelcomed, as the kid was still holding your fingers, this one whined.

“It won’t take long,” Mando spoke, his head dropping to the green child. Adverting your eyes from his visor you scolded yourself, and your increasing heartbeat.

His eyes were trained on your geometrical tattoos adorning your delicate face, he didn’t expect to lost himself in your eyes as you opened them. His gut twisted when you moved back with a start.

Few minutes later you were dusting sands from your hair and clothes “We should be at the farm in a bit,”

He nodded "I hope they have a speeder to lend us there,”

That yes, coz I won't make it back by walking. I'm no bantha

Both of you let out a relieved sigh when the farm appeared in the horizon. Bhindi Kayle welcomed you in the abode, the farm was practically empty, all the workers were home or in town, only an old man sat at the far end of a bench. Bhindi Kayle was an old aquaintance of Peli, he cut you off as soon as you started talking, he stood before you oddly trying to assert a sort of dominance, he’d never been like that.

"Yeah Peli send us a hologram earlier this week,” Mando's chest heaved as soon as the farmer interrupted you. “Didn't expect a Mandalorian to work for her,"

Aaah, a men’s ego.

The kid babbled a confused note, "I'm not working for Motto," Mando stated, galled.

"The Mandalorian is ... here for protection, somehow." The child looked at you from the satchel on Mando's hip.

The old man rumbled from the corner, "A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a ... whatever that is ... roaming around Tatooine, what a sight."

"Ah don't listen to him, he lost his mind since the Lars’ farm got burned down,” Bhindi leaned in whispering ”inhaled too much smoke while trying to raid the place."

Negotiating the parts’ price was not in the deal but knowing Peli wasn’t here, Bhindi tried. Yeah tried, not for nothing Peli Motto took you in, you were as stubborn as a falumpaset, gosh you missed Naboo.

"Do you have a speeder?” Mando asked his tone becoming a bit hesitant “Ours ... blown off on the way," your refrained a smirk.

"Well, we have swoops but you'll be back to Peli in days at that speed." You followed him through the pit to the garage. Eyes skimming the messy place, looked like a junkyard, the green kid was touching everything, you lose your footing on a piece of scrap while looking at it, firm gloved hands propped you up by the shoulders without a word. Embarrassment filed you as Mando’s hands left your shoulders with hesitation.

"Are those... pieces of a Bantha-II cargo skiff?" You stepped onto the old railing, trying to distract yourself from the burning feel of his touch. "Where did you get that?"

"That old rusty thing? We found it a few years back. The Hutts might have abandoned it, thankfully for us the Jawas were late on this one." Bhindi rummaged through a bunch of metal "We keep some engines we found for the parts, just in case. Ah!"

He proudly showed his finding. You heard the Mandalorian groaned behind you.

"Might be cramp on it with the two of you, but it can do."

Mando was not amused "A skimboard?" his hands reached his hips, he stood there staring at Bhindi. Stepping down the railing, a light smile spread on your lips.

"I'm good with it," you grabbed the board "you fly, I use the skimboard," his bucket head turned to you, the heavy silence coming from the Beskar clad man had Bhindi lose his tough demeanour, but had you amused.

"Hum, I can probably find an old speeder bike," The Mandalorian nodded at the farmer.

Inspecting the slick metal, your hand dusted off the sand of off it "How much for it?"

"25 alliance credits will do," he shrugged. "Deal," Bhindi hurried away in the back of the garage.

“I’ll be back in a minute,”stepping out the junkyard, you head for the hydroponic garden.

The sand had crawled under your layers, it soon became itchy and abrasive. Stripping down your top layers, you stayed in your dark undershirt. Vigorously dusting off your copper colored top and black hood, the dusts particles shining under the sun rays. Cupping water in your hands, your let the fresh water ran down your tattooed arms. Cold water on your face never felt so good, even after hours working on a spaceship it wasn’t as satisfying.

“Khayle found us a landspeeder” you gasped at his voice, holding your arms around you and turning your back to him; Mando became even more silent than usual. The tattoos on your arms and body were not to be seen by everyone, it wasn’t as strict as Mandalorian’s creed or the Tuskens but still, you were meant to choose the few who would see them. The one on your face were your achievement, your proudness, you could show them. But those on your body were more personal, promises to your species, and to yourself. Since the farm was empty you thought it would be safe to undress, apparently not.

Mando paused, he wasn’t expecting that, seeing the tattoos on your wrists earlier he thought that was it but seeing your inked arms and shoulders blades he felt pulled by curiosity but as soon as he saw you flinched and tried to hide your arms, he turned away.

He walked out, not saying a word, thinking about what he said earlier. Peli did warn him. Feeling your rushed breathing haven out, and the thundering sound of your bloodstream into your ears fading you reached for your copper long sleeve top. As you tried to snatch it you felt a resistance, the child, coming to you his little claws up to touch your arms. Big dark eyes staring at you, oddly similar to the dark visor of his keeper. Feeling that pull deep inside, you frowned putting your hood on and grabbing the child, holding it bunglingly, he kept looking at you.

“You forgot something.” You gently shoved him the child, then rounded the landspeeder.

Bhindi casually leaned on the abode “You should stay for the night, Raiders thrive at night.”

Mando watched you sit at the driver’s seat, your hood hiding your expression. “We’ll be fine,” he answered not sparing a glance at Bhindi. The child fell asleep an hour after leaving the moisture farm that’s when Mando decided to talk.

“If I’d known ...” you stayed silent “Did I endanger your faith or beliefs?” he asked seriously concerned.

“Mirialans, we …” you scoffed “I’ll be fine.”

Something in his tone changed “I’m sorry, it wasn’t done on purpose.” The child’s ears settled down in a snore; it was as he was feeling his keeper’s trouble even through his sleep.

“Something happened, when I was not even an idea.” you felt compelled to tell the story behind the tattoos since he saw most of them. “My ancestor was part of the Senate, she believed in a way of life, now long forgotten. She fought for it but soon realized it was wrong, she was never meant to fight, she was meant to keep the peace. Her loyalty faded, she did bad things ... I’m bond to her in some ways I can’t explain.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent, you were used to it at this point.

“The old Galactic Senate banished her. No one remembers Bariss Offee now, she's been long gone. But I do.”

“The old Galactic Senate...” Mando clenched his fist “I heard about it,”

“Some of my tattoos are meant to heal her soul through me. After her fall, my family scattered, we were forbidden to talk about her, we were forced to strip ourselves from our knowledge. I was young, my parents flew us to another galaxy, there we live like humans. But my parents kept one of our custom, the tattoos.” you shrugged, even Peli didn’t know about all this, she knew about your exile but that’s all.

“I…I don’t know if I can say this and my apologize if it’s misplaced but you .. uhm” Mando asked himself why he was so stressed about telling you his honest feel about it “..they are ..pretty,” the repulsorlift the only sound perceptible. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, especially coming from the renown bounty hunter, eyes leaving the road you stared at him confused but somehow relieved, your hood flew back reveling your face to him.

A tuskens battle cry made you break, standing up on your seat, immediately reaching for your blaster and glowrod.

“Hold on,” he posed the sleeping child on your seat, getting down.

“Mando, they shoot us once, I’m not taking any chance,”

“I’ll talk to them,” he stated calmly “lower your blaster and stay close,”

You inhaled loudly, putting away your weapon. Emerging from the dark, tall figures soon surrounded you. The deep grunt coming out the helmet at your side startled you, his gestures and groans had the attention of the faceless Raiders. The silence on their part didn’t do much to ease your worry until they answered, though you couldn’t understand, the stance of your companion made you feel safe.

“They’re saying we should camp out, another tribe, the one who shot us is ahead of us,”

“Camp out, with them?” you whispered as if they could understand you “I heard things about them,”

“Not everything you hear is true,” Mando’s visor was trained on your hesitating features. Well you didn’t have much of a choice, you weren’t going to leave without him and the green thing.

“You take the first watch,” you gathered your backpack, he nodded at you, preceding you.

The kid now awaken, was nestled between his keeper’s feet, staring at the fire in front of him. It might have felt you staring because his little ears perked up and he soon waddled to you. The kid kept trying to hold you or touch your hand.

"Is it always like that? Clingy?" You poked the child’s forehead making him wobble back.

Mando tilted his head with a sigh, silently asking if your gesture was really necessary.

"Not really," He reached for the child but this latter whined, settling when he grabbed your index’ first phalanx.

"You were saying!?" You sighed as the kid looks like he was concentrating on your finger. As he kept doing that you felt that pull again, deep inside of you, an inner energy you usually only could feel during your ancestor’s vision. It scared you, snatching your finger from the kid, you look at the big eyes now staring at you. "What are you!"

“Easy,” Mando ushered the kid back to him “He has powers, I should have warned you,”

“What kind of power?”

“He can move things with his mind or something similar” your mind processed the news, “I’ve been quested to bring him back to his kind,"

The child climbed your feet to get closer, your lips turned down in an uneasy grimace, you weren't exactly gifted with children, if it was one though. Clingy beings, loud and stinky, not your thing.

The Mandalorian kept an eye on you without your knowledge, he'd never seen anyone be so hesitant with the child before.

Mando talked with the Tuskens while you ate, he sometimes translated for you in case you were interested in their conversation.

....

"You are missing a piece on the turbines’ launch lever by the way, want another one!?" You asked him sleepily, "That won't be necessary," he chuckled and it caught you off guard but you said nothing.

A young tusken handed you a fur cloth, hesitantly grabbing it you eyed Mando, he made a gesture to the raider.

"I take the first watch," even with his vocoder you could hear the grin.

Waking up in a sweat you observed your surroundings. A bantha was snoring loudly next to a pack of sleeping tuskens. A soft snore not far from you got your attention. The child was tucked on Mando's side, his ears heaving with his breaths.

The fire reflecting on the beskar mesmerized you, it was like Mando's was made of fire. Was he sleeping?

“You’re okay?”

“My ribs hurts, I’m cold, but I’m managing.” you stood up, stepping closer to the fire. “Take some rest, it’s my shift.”

“Here,” you turned around just in time to caught the e-bacta shot, Mando closed his belt pocket and crossed his arms, leaning on a rucksack, ready to rest.

“Thanks..” you stared at his calm composure, forgetting he could still be looking at you behind that visor.

Your gaze on him got him agitated, he tried his best to rest his eyes but he couldn’t detached his from yours, somehow you always manage to made eye-contact, most people didn’t even dare look straight at him. He stayed alert as you went to the land speeder, lifting your top enough to reach your bruised flank, he saw you brace yourself for the shot.

1,2 “Hmmm!!!” you muffled your groan in your elbow as the three needles deeped in your flesh, youknew that in a few minutes you’ll be alright but maker it hurt.

The suns getting up, you were seated on the land speeder’s hood watching the twins made their entry, I’ll never get tired of this.

“We’re good to go, the other tribe moved north,” Mando set the child on the hood next to you to thanks the Tuskens.

The child lifted his head to you, silently staring, suddenly rushing to you head bumping your hip “ "Oof!” he angrily cuddled your side “Mando, what’s going on with it?”

“Hey, hey kid, no!” he cradled him into his arms “what did you do?”

“Nothing!” you jumped down the hood “It slammed into me,”

“He never acts like that, there’s something with you,” Mando stated

“Oh maker come on Mando,” your voice tightened “I’m a nobody, an exile mirialan, I’m no Jedi like my ancestor!” you realised as soon as you said it, screwing your eyes shut.

“Your ancestor was a Jedi?”he stepped forward, his demeanour now threatening but you stood your ground. “And you’re telling me now?”

“Mando I, ... I’m not sure about it, I don’t even understand the visions I have, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“We should go!” he shut himself, the child whined against his keeper’s chest.

The ride back to Peli was excruciating, Mando didn’t talk to you or ease the kid’s fuss. The three of you made it back to Peli without issues.

She was about to make one of her famous punchline but she saw your concerned face as you passed by her deposing the vaporator’s pieces on her desk.

Peli planted herself before him “What did you do?” he sighed.

Mando watched as the door hiss closed behind you.

“How much do you know about them?”

“What’d you do!?” Peli insisted before answering his question. As stubborn as you he thought. He related the conversation, he’d never seen Peli so mad.

The soft knock on your door told you it wasn't Peli. It opened on your command.

“We need to talk,” Mando stepped-in

“Oh now you want to talk!” you threw a wrench in your tool box “We had a full ride for that.”

“You lied to me!” he pointed his finger to the ground

“I didn’t LIE to you! I just ..didn’t tell you all of it. Jedis and Mandalorians are not exactly friends for all I know,”

“The child might be a Jedi and you didn’t care to tell me you knew about he’s people.” the tiny bedroom was crowded with his presence, deep inside behind the anger lied a fluttering feeling when he entered your space.

“My ancestor had that kind of power, but I don’t know shit about it, I told you if you were to even listen!” tears at the brim at your eyes remembering your parents’ tale about their exile, you inhaled trying to stay focused.

“I’ve listened,” he regained his neutral tone “if you are like your ancestor then maybe you have that power in you, that’s why the child is reaching out to you, he might feel it,”

you scoffed “I’m a mecha not a Jedi,” the child made you jumped when he touched your hand, he had climbed the comforter hanging from your cot.

“Mando, I’d … never mean to hide things from you, I’m just..scared.” You let the child hold your finger “An unknown powerful energy in me, how would you react! Even if I’d want to know, I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded leaving your cramped bedroom with the child. Few minutes later Peli called out, sighing you drag your feet to her desk.

“What is it that you want Motto?” you taunted but the teasing voice died seeing Mando on the other side of her seat.

“I’ve been quested to bring him to the jedi.” his visor on you, knitted your brows you wait for his speech. “I could use a mecha on board, one that needs answer of some sorts,” his grave voice resonated in your ears, he faced Peli while saying it. She sighed knowingly; her face torned with doubts.

“I can’t, Peli you need me and I ..”

“Kid, I’ve seen you distraught after your visions, it’s getting worse,” Peli sighed “Well, I’m not saying losing my best mecha is ideal,” you tried your best to keep the feelings at bay “…but go if you have to, I’ll managed” she patted you shoulder, herself containing her sniffles.

“Take care of this piece of junk,” she snorted making you laugh.

“I’ll come back,”

“Don’t you dare, you're young, get out of this desolate place. Go get the galaxy,”

Smiling at her you hugged her tight “Oh come on, come on” she shooed you away, striding to your room to pack, you didn’t see her made eyed contact with Mando’s visor, a silent plead to keep you safe, he nodded.

Stepping in the cockpit, you sat on the passenger seat at his right. The green being was on your right eyeing you, you suprised yourself smiling at him. Mando came in and the kid starts to shift in his pod, you watched Mando as he took something on the control panel and swivelled to the baby. Thlatter reached out, his keeper letting a shiny metal ball fall into his little claw.

“That’s…” you said out loud. Your eyes darted to the turbines launcher’s lever. Mando finally turned to you and shrugged tilting his helmet.

“A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a Jedi ... what a sight.”

#The Mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #mando fanfiction #Mando imagines #Mirialan reader #force sensitive reader #slow burn #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin imagines #Vhekadla #Mando x mirialan!reader

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johnnydoe69 · 4 years

Text

The Switch

I woke up in a forest in nothing but a medical gown, surrounded by soldiers trapped in orange slime.

Sprawled out on the forest floor, I picked myself up and stumbled out of the clearing. The orange slime twitched and moved as I walked past, occasionally gathering in larger chunks or shrinking away to let me through. Everything felt strange and I was extremely lightheaded. My feet were bruised, bloody, and starting to swell. I wandered for what could have been hours or minutes when I came upon someone’s backyard.

I climbed the small metal fence and landed uneasily onto the well-manicured lawn. At the base of the house was a garden hose and desperately dehydrated, I wandered over and began drinking from it. After I had satisfied my thirst, I took to cleaning off as much dirt, blood, and orange goo as possible. By the time I finished, I was soaking wet and freezing, my medical gown pressed against my emaciated body.

That's when I noticed the comforting aroma of barbecued ribs coming from inside the house. It sat right on the kitchen counter, unguarded, and drizzled with sweet honey. Still, in a daze, I made my way up to the back porch and tested the door. I found it to be unlocked and I quietly slipped inside.

The smell of the ribs was even more intoxicating inside the house than out and I pounced on them like a wild animal. I never even took the time to chew, each rib smoothly slid down the back of my throat and immediately started to dissolve. When I finished, I slumped to the floor, taking everything in.

I suddenly realized that what I had just done should have been biologically impossible and yet, the bone, meat, and sauce, was absorbed into my body within minutes, providing me with a shockwave of energy.

Testing my limits and vaguely remembering using my arm as a sword against the soldiers, I willed my fingers to fuse into something sharp. In seconds, the fingers of my right hand became one and sharpened into a blade the color of rust.

Terrified, I quickly asked my hand to go back to normal and it obliged, the sword separating into fingers and returning to my natural skin color.

Below me, there was the squeak of feet on hardwood and the sound of footsteps heading upwards to a nearby door in the kitchen. I dove behind the counter, my heart rate pulsing.

The door opened and a man shuffled out.

He wore nothing but a tight-fitting lavender polo and a silky drawstring thong, looking very clean despite just cooking with barbeque sauce. He blearily looked to the counter and his eyes opened wide.

“What the fuck?” he stammered.

He ran over to the pan and examined it. Cold sweat dripped down my back and I did my best not to breathe.

“Nate? Baby, did you come home and finish all these without me?” the man asked, nervously, searching the room.

His bare feet edged inches away from where I hid and before I could think I grabbed his foot on impulse. From the palm of my hand, tendrils made of ooze penetrated the man through his foot and inserted itself directly into his bloodstream.

He gasped, but before he could scream or move, a paralyzing agent was introduced to his body, pacifying him. Moving with the paralyzing agent were the tendrils themselves, growing and expanding as they rode the current of his circulatory system before reaching his brain. From there it quickly gained control of his entire body, inserting itself into the many grooves of his brain, until his every heartbeat, breath, and thought was firmly under my control.

I pulled my hand away and the tendrils connecting us severed. The man wobbled on his feet, eyes rolling to the back of his head, before finally falling hard on his back, with a silly grin plastered on his face.

I stood up. The man remained silent, his breathing slow and relaxed. Despite removing my hand from his form I could still feel deep inside him, the ooze communicating back to me every function that was being conducted in his body.

Taking a deep breath, I kneeled back down, and using the influence of the ooze in his body, I looked over some of his surface memories.

The man was Max Larsen. 29. Ex- fashion model, now a computer programmer. Married to Nate. Living on the outskirts of Benton in upstate New York. The date was March 7th, Nate and Max's 3rd wedding anniversary.

I looked up and sure enough a bright and sparkly banner with the words “Happy Anniversary to Us” spanned the kitchen.

I sighed. Nate would be home in an hour and there was no telling when the reinforcements for the military unit I devastated would arrive.

Acting partially on instinct, partially on intuition, I placed my hand on Max’s foot again. Establishing a better connection with the ooze in his body, I willed my body to take on Max’s form.

The first thing to change was my arms. They inflated with muscle, tissue pulled, and past their normal limits to match decades of exercise. The next thing to change was my skin tone, shifting from a fluorescent white that hadn't seen the sun in years, to a healthy tan that had just left the beach. Accompanied by the skin color change was a light dusting of blonde hair that started from my arms and began growing over my once hairless body. Then my chest enlarged with muscle, my pecs growing to the size of milk jugs, straining the fabric of the ripped medical gown. My neck and shoulders quickly followed, adding more weight to a body that was now more than a little too top-heavy.

I fell over, panting from the strain, my hand still firmly on Max's foot. I relied on my newfound upper body strength to keep me upright, but soon my lower half began filling out to pick up the slack. From my waist down muscle and a thin layer of fat were added to my body as I felt my dick grow several inches, my balls dropping against my skinny legs. From there my legs ballooned to accommodate the rest of my body and a perky bubble butt replaced my bony ass. Soon I was able to support myself by just kneeling again and picked myself up.

Then I felt my face begin to change, bones cracking and breaking to fit a new shape, making me wheeze with pain. Once that was finished, hair sprouted on my face and the top of my head, growing thicker and heavier as the seconds trickled past.

When all the pain in my body receded, I grabbed Max’s phone off the counter and checked for my reflection in his camera. I was his spitting image, albeit covered in barbeque sauce and a ratty medical gown that was now two sizes too small.

Then I went to work on Max. I needed a decoy to throw my assailants off my trail in case there were more of them, so I began shifting his body to take on my old form.

I knelt back down to the floor as Max’s good looks and health quickly receded from him like a desert storm over a savannah. Never losing the smile on his face, his body deflated, years of exercise and healthy eating replaced with the look of someone fed on nothing but an IV tube. His skin color shifted to a pallid white as his healthy golden locks of hair thinned and shrank before disappearing completely. His face hollowed and his boyish good looks and charm faded.

When I finished, I stared down at the man before me and was horrified. It looked like staring down at a corpse.

I took a deep breath. I tore off my medical gown, slightly ripping it, and got to cleaning myself off in the kitchen sink, too terrified to waste time going upstairs and cleaning myself in Max's bathroom.

Once I was clean enough, I moved Max behind the counter and stripped him of his polo and thong, taking time to undo the many strings of his underwear and weirded out by the sensation of gripping what had once been my balls, now on another body.

I put the clothes down in a pile and did my best to slide Max into the medical gown, careful not to rip it any further, to prevent him from being completely nude in the woods. Once that was finished I noticed the two thick gold rings on his now too skinny fingers. I easily slid them off and applied them to my hand, careful not to put the wrong ring on the wrong finger.

Then I put on his polo shirt, soft against my hairy chest, and then stuffed my new dick and balls into the silk thong. Despite the weight of my heavy balls, the thong was a smooth fit and accentuated them perfectly.

Firmly taking Max’s place in appearance I noticed the blinds on his kitchen door and shut them, casting the kitchen in darkness, before I got to work taking his memories. I spent the next 45 minutes soaking up as much information as I could, anything that would convince people, but especially Nate, that I was Max and always had been.

When I was satisfied, I wiped my old body's mind clean and replaced them with only my memories of waking up and wandering in the woods. I made sure to withhold any memories of finding and going inside Max's home, leaving him a nearly blank slate.

Then, still unsure, but willing to test the extent of my power I willed the ex-Max to enter a dream-like state where he would not remember anything for the next hour and commanded him to find a new shelter, far from here.

His eyes snapped opened and a part of me was afraid I fucked up and would be conscious, but he calmly ignored me, pulling himself off the kitchen floor and stumbling to the door. He pushed his way outside and quickly disappeared into the woods, letting me breathe a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, I took Max’s phone and sitting in his living room scanned the news for any word of what happened in the forest.

I did that for a few minutes and found nothing when a car parked in the driveway. It was only then that I remembered that Max had promised to make barbecued ribs for Nate and that I had devoured it only an hour before. I cursed myself and ran to the front door. When Nate let himself inside, I embraced him in a bearhug, kissing the back of his neck.

“And hello to you too,” Nate said with a laugh.

Feeling him take a step towards the living room and beyond that the kitchen, I spun him around and met my soft lips against his.

His shoulders relaxed, but he still kept moving to the kitchen, so I went further, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, accidentally cutting it against his teeth. From Max, I knew that he had been looking forward to those ribs for a while. I had to distract him with something else to keep him from asking questions.

As I kissed him, I placed my hand on his lower back the way he liked and succeeded in leading him out of the doorway and up to several of the stairs.

Nate dropped his briefcase on the stairs, letting it tumble to the bottom when he pulled away for a moment.

“Wait, don’t you have a meal waiting for me?” Nate asked, confused, looking behind him. I grabbed him by the chin and gave him a big smile.

“Come upstairs and I’ll make a meal out of your ass,” I said, playfully, remembering how much Nate loved getting his ass eaten.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Nate said, kissing me sweetly on the cheek before we went up the stairs together, the sound of military helicopters gathering in the distance.

#body swap #alien #shapesifting #brainwipe #male transformation #maletf

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laurasinele · 5 years

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The Grand Marshal Meets The Padawan (a Fictober19 pre-slash kylux ligh AU drabble)

Trying to keep up, I’m now four prompts behind. Will probably extend on this one at some point, so if you like it, stay tunned.

Prompt 9: “There is a certain taste to it”

Fanfic from: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Tags: Pre-Slash, Grand Marshal Hux, Jedi Ben, they’re in Ahch-To

Warnings: Hux is made prisoner, he first appears gagged and hand-tied. Mild violence, but Ben’s too nice to scalate it.

Ao3

Armitage Hux, Grand Marshal of the First Order’s army, appointed by the Supreme Leader Snoke themselves as their spokesperson, highest ranking cadet in the history of both the Imperial and First Order Military Academies, youngest person to ever reach the rank of General, most prolific engineer of his time, designer and commander of the Starkiller Base, known by friend and foe as Destroyer of Worlds and the Bane of Hosnian Prime, woke up lying on a filthy cot, inside a fisherman’s empty cabin on an island in a remote world, gagged and hand-tied.

It was all going according to plan.

The poor excuse for a door creaked open and the light blinded him. An opaque, looming figure, probably human, approached him, set a tray on the floor, and manhandled him into a seating position. When he felt the gag removed, he did something he always found pitiful in prisoners, but he had to play the part. He spit on his captor’s face and braced for a slap that never came. Instead, a deep, kind of bored sigh preceded the rustling of robes and the sound of a person agilely seating on the floor cross legged. As Hux’s eyes grew accustomed to the light, he saw the figure produce a cloth and clean off the offensive spit.

“It’s not a great idea to bite the hand that feeds you, Grand Marshal”.

So it was a young man. It had to be Ben Solo. If he was, it was all smoothly going according to plan. He guarded his mind as Snoke had taught him, and charged against his captor just to play his part convincingly. And maybe because Solo’s doe eyes, that he was seeing now for the first time, were making him inexplicably furious.

The last padawan was expecting Hux’s onslaught. Faster than Hux could register, he stood up, stepped aside, caught the him in his arms and used his momentum to make him flip and fall on his back against the sturdy, dusty cot. Between Hux’s fits of cough, Ben Solo spoke, his voice betraying smugness and a smile.

“This is a small island, too far away from the nearest populated area to reach it swimming, not that I doubt the extraordinary skills you acquired during your training. It’s simply too much distance to cover in a very rough sea populated by hungry beasts”.

The Grand Marshal managed to sit up and glare at the young Jedi apprentice, who stifled a laugh and shook his head condescently.

“Look, I am supposed to bring you this food”, he said pointing to the tray he had brought. On top of it sat a jug with clear water and a bowl with some kind of blue, lumpy, steamy goo. “It’d be way easier if you behaved civilly as it befits to your rank, and don’t try to attack me once I untie you. Otherwise, I’d have to Force-feed you, which would be tedious for me and humiliating for you. Do we have an understanding, then?”

Hux glared at Solo for a little longer, and then examined the tray. As a child of the First Order who lived most of his life in military facilities and spaceships, he had never had non-processed food nor water from a spring. The prospect made him feel slightly sick, but he had no other choice. It was all for the greater glory of the Order, Snoke, and ultimately, himself. There was also the idea of being spoon fed, which disgusted him profoundly since he hadn’t needed any kind of assistance in his own sustenance since he was three.

He looked back at the cocky boy sitting on the floor in front of him, repressed a sneer and nodded, offering him his tied wrists. Now, Hux had grown believing all the tales about Sith and Jedi were exaggerations to glorify an obsolete religion and bound the masses in fear and reverence. Of course, he had witnessed what the Supreme Leader was able to do, and had used khyber in his designs, thus coming to consider the existence in the universe of something similar to what the old Dark and Light monks called the Force. But he had never experienced nothing like that on his own flesh before.

Ben Solo had his eyes trained on Hux’s and waved his hand casually, as if lazily shooing off an insect. But at that gesture, Hux felt hands on his hands, padding, prodding, looking for bruises and wounds from the shuttle crush up his arms and down his back. He felt the rope tighten for a second and then loosen completely, as the mild pressure on his back washed over his legs, ankles and feet, and rose delicately through his chest. It stopped a few seconds on his throat, pressure increasing, Solo’s smirk widening slightly, and then caressed his face and scalp before leaving him, the ghosting sensation of it sending shivers down his spine.

Hux made no move, intent on holding Ben’s gaze. The young man gestured invitingly towards the tray, not breaking eye contact either. Slowly, warily, Hux grabbed the tray and sat back on the cot, back against the wall, under the padawan amused scrutiny. Hux held the jug close to his face and took a cautionary sniff before sipping gingerly. It was fresh and clean and it washed off the pins and needles that had been punishing his head since he woke up. He gulped it all anxiously before he could summon any modicum of dignity, earning a chuckle from his one man audience. Then Hux took the bowl in both hands and tested the consistency of the blue mush with the wooden spoon stuck in it. It was thick and smelled rancid. Hux threw an inquisitive look to Ben, who sighed, took a spoonful and swallowed, offering the spoon back to Hux. The Grand Marshal scooped a small portion and cautiously put it in his mouth, immediately spitting it out, gagging and coughing. A bucket full of water appeared swooshing through the door and landed between them. Solo filled the jug in it and gave it to Hux.

“There is a certain taste to it, I must admit. But it’s the main source of protein and fat around here. You’ll get used to it”, explained Ben sympathetically. “Once it cools down it’s even worse, so hurry”, he added pushing the bowl gently towards Hux.

The stoic army man that had lead Hux through hell and back during his training and low rank years took the wheel and shoved big, crammed spoonfuls of mush in his mouth, swallowing them at once, not giving his taste-buds much time to register offense. Once he finished, Ben took the tray, bowl and spoon away, exclaiming in a mock-soothing tone: “There we go. That’s a good prisoner right there. Well done, Armitage!”

Hux would have scorched him with a single stare for his mockery and the mention of his given name if he hadn’t been too preoccupied swallowing down the las glob of blue goo. Ben smirked knowingly and left, leaving the bucket of water and the jug behind, and the Grand Marshal untied.

#fictober19 #kylux #pre-slash kylux #light side kylux #light side au #jedi ben solo #grand marshal hux #ahch-to

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naromoreau · 5 years

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Crime Does Pay

A Far Cry 5 fic Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/ Female Deputy Rating: Explicit Words: 5121 Also on AO3 Note: Another super self indulgent oneshot of my now fave pair, because I have no life. Also big thanks to @shelbypnw (love you sweetheart!) and to the Awesome Far Cry Discord (YOINK you guys!) for pushing me to post this long ass thing.

============== Summary: In the aftermath of Faith's demise, the Resistance has a bit of solace and Rook is finally confronted with her feelings for the pyromaniac.

art by @colonelrogers

“So, honey, care to tell me when are you jumpin’ those bones?” Adelaide took a sip from her beer, sitting cross legged on the stool at the bar, while Mary May chuckled, cleaning a jug absentmindedly.

Rook flushed up to her ears, green eyes open wide and mouth hanging. “I-I dunno what you mean Addie,” she stuttered flashing glances to Mary May as if she was looking for a savior. Her pulse quickened slightly as she fiddled with the glass in her hand.

“O’cmon Dep, you ain’t that dense,” Mary May intervened, lips curled in a crooked smile. “Girl, you have it bad.”

She flicked her tongue across her lips, to gain some time, brow furrowed and boot tapping against the wooden panel of the bar. “Seriously you guys, I have no idea what you’re--” she was almost slurring, and she knew it. Damn .

“Stop that love,” Adelaide cut her words, waving a manicured hand in front of her, “I’m old enough to know you want to drag that pretty mouth of yours all over my idiot of a nephew.”

Rook spilled her drink gracelessly, eeking a faint yelp followed by a grunt as she hid her beet red face on her arms. “Oh for fucks sake, Adelaide!” she whispered agitatedly, lifting her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Sharky and Hurk standing by the pool table.

“Nah, honey, you no need to worry,” Adelaide said patting her head with one hand and taking a sip with the other. “I’m just sayin’ I don't get why you’re still here and he’s there, like don't you want to be spanked or somethin’?”

Rook grunted, straightening on her seat, trying not to shrink before Adelaide and Mary May intense gazes. “It’s not that simple,” she said taking a gulp of stale air, diverting her eyes to the dance floor, where Kim and Nick swirled at the rhythm of an upbeat tune. “I’m his best bud, and I can't do this to him, I mean -- I don't think he sees me like that--”

For the second time her words were cut short, but this time by the ringing laughter of Adelaide and Mary May combined.

“Oh hon, you’re a good deputy, but you’ve no idea ‘bout this,” Adelaide said bumping her shoulder with her own, “you should trust me and put to good use that cute outfit of yours.”

“I don’t see how--” Rook felt all the blood on her body pooling on her now scorching cheeks. She was completely sure she’d kept her crush for the pyromaniac in check, even if half the time her eyes swept his ass or the front of his pants, gaze cautiously hidden behind her sunglasses. God bless sunglasses. She would’ve known if what they said was truth, but in fact all his comments lead to believe that thought was a very far fetched scenario. “I don’t wanna embarrass myself,” she said taking a swig of her drink, putting it back on the counter with excessive force, the glass hitting wood with a hard click, “he’s definitely not into me.” Oh damn, was she bitter?

“Okay now,” Mary May chimed in, “that’s where you’re wrong. Haven’t you seen his goo-goo eyes whenever you’re around? He checks your ass at least four times each hour, and it’s a non-stop screwball when he talks to you.”

“And Mary here hasn’t been around us on the field, sweetheart,” Adelaide offered, with a wicked smile, “that’s just pathetic to see-- I mean, Charlemagne is not the most subtle individual around so I think even Hurk Jr. knows by now. Seriously honey, we all could be dead tomorrow, or-- are you waiting your chance with Johnny Boy?”

Rook cackled at the last sentence but it didn’t deter her mouth of going dry, the tip of her fingers numbed by a sudden rush of adrenaline. She shot a glance towards the pool table, eyes fixed on the familiar green hoodie for a second. Oh, she wanted him bad . A hot curl uncoiled between her thighs, her heart thumping under every inch of her skin.

“So?” Mary May said, elbows on the counter, staring at her with an amused expression, “what you waiting for?”

Rook cleared her throat. Fuck, just do it.

“Can I have some liquid courage first, Miss Fairgrave?” Rook asked, offering her empty beer mug to Mary May, but she took it, putting it aside and offering her two shots of tequila in return. No salt. No lime.

“Trust me dear, this is better.”

It was now or never. The semi-unplanned gathering was the perfect frame to get rid of that thorn on her side. She gulped the shots, one after the other, furrowing her brows and squinting. “‘Kay. I’m all geed up so bring it.”

She stood up, adjusting her black skirt that seemed determined to roll up her thighs. She heard Adelaide and Mary May laughing and clapping at her back, like fucking teenagers. Really . Nevermind. No one would notice. The music was loud and the alcohol had everybody focused on their own stuff.

She gave slow steps towards her target, where Sharky was apparently arguing with Hurk. It’d been a matter of events, one intertwined after the other and she couldn’t help to fall for him. He had the most beautiful smile she’d seen, and he was always so keen to follow her without question, it was heartwarming. And when he held his flamethrower bustling around her, laughing and yelling at the rhythm of peggie bullets, it made her feel alive. And, was she about to spill all those things in front of him? Her breath was shallow, and she felt sweat breaking on her palms. It was stupid really, now that she thought about it. What if Addie and May were wrong? But the rational part of her brain that screamed to back off, was muffled by alcohol and blood buzzing in her veins.

She was thinking that maybe it was just better to take her own ass back to where it came from, when Hurk lifted his face from his drink. She didn’t fail to notice how he digged Sharky in the ribs before she stepped in front of them, trying to pull her no bullshit facade out her ass.

“‘Sup Dep?” Hurk scratched his forehead beneath his banana, looking a bit high, “so are you sure Faith’s dead huh?”

“Pretty much Hurk, why?”

“I dunno, I was just thinkin’- it’s sad man, ‘cause she had this potential to be Mrs. Hurk Drubman Jr. y’know?, what a cute little thing she was,” Hurk said taking a long swig from his drink.

“I don’t think your mom would’ve approved that, Hurkie,” she said snorting, and quickly added, “maybe you should go there and ask her what she thinks, and bring me a beer on your way back, ‘kay?”

Hurk blinked for a second before perking up again. “‘Aight Dep, sure, sure, I got you babe, you gotta celebrate your victories!”

When he was gone, she closed the inches away from Sharky, ignoring the whirring sound in her ears, and her skin tingling, every breath more heavy than the last.

“Man I love Hurk but his screws are way loose,” she said, standing next to him, hopping on the pool table.

“None of that Shorty, he’s a fucking genius!,” he said as he took his beer bottle to his lips, and her hands tugged at the hem of her flannel to draw away her need to reach a hand and touch him. “‘Cuz’s been around a lot, and he kicks ass, he’s like-- like a one man army. Damn I wish I was more like him y’know?”

“What you talking about Boshaw? Your scrawny ass is the cornerstone of the resistance, man.” She chuckled, breathing in, breathing out, trying to quell her nervousness. “And by the way, never thanked you for saving my head from being blown up by peggies today, that was a swell move, man.”

“I got you shorty, I’m like--- I’m smooth like a ninja,” he said turning slightly with the same smirk he flashed everytime they blew up some outpost and it caused breath catch in her throat. “Gotta be your protector ‘cause your reflexes ain’t that good, but don’t feel bad, not everyone is like me y’know? I’m like-- I’m like the lovechild of Bruce Lee and James fucking Bond.”

Rook almost bent over with laughter. Damn she loved this man. Wait, what? She kicked the thought to the back of her mind. That path was just trouble and then some.

“Woah, woah easy there, you heathen,” she said hopping down the table with a fake scowl on her face. “My reflexes are much better than yours-- I’m a fucking officer with training and I’m gonna fucking prove it to you.”

Without giving it much thought and before her words could sink in his inebriated brain, she stood on her tiptoes and swooped his hat from his head, grasping it far behind her back.

“Hey! That ain’t fair, give it back, that’s theft!”

He extended a hand but she swatted it away, like if it was a pestering mosquito.

“Uh huh, you want it, you gotta take it from me,” she said shaking a dainty finger at him, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

“Oh yeah? Well, bring it on chica.”

He tried to pounce at her by her right side, but she dodged him, giving a few steps back, away from the pool table. She giggled as he strode in her direction trying to clasp her arms, but she swirled around a table, bumping into a chair.

“You ain’t going free amigo! Hey Joey, handcuff the Dep!” He yelled in Hudson’s direction, but Joey rolled her eyes and shook her head, continuing her conversation with Pastor Jerome, unbothered.

“No one can help you, Boshaw,” she said with a smug grin, retreating into a small corridor out of everyone’s sight. She almost lost her footing, skirting around. Damn, the alcohol was kicking in.

He followed her close behind, but she didn’t relent. She jumped back when he tread to her, a half smile on his face. When her butt hit the wall, she understood her mistake.

“Got ya!” Sharky leaned forward, extending a hand in her direction. “Give it back, shorty, crime don’t pay.”

She exhaled a shuddery breath. He was so close her cheeks were flushed, heat that she didn’t know if came from the situation or the booze in her system, pooled in her belly.

“I said, you gotta take it from me,” she dared, boldly.

A question popped in his eyes, and she held up the cap and glasses in her hand. When he leaped forward, she swiftly hid her hand again. He slanted pressing both palms against the wall for support, her body now bracketed between his arms.

She was already dizzy from his scent, leathery and musky, a tinge of sandalwood and propane climbing up her nostrils. She moved a leg slightly upwards, to brush his inner thigh.

“Ah, Dep? You okay?” He wetted his lips, his words hiding an undeniable tremor.

She put his hat on her head, tilting her head up. Even with her high heeled boots she barely reached his chin. “More than fine,” she said placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Shit, I-- I think no more drinks for you tonight,” Sharky said, but his voice was lower and huskier that she’d ever heard before. He dipped his head an inch and stopped, lips slightly parted.

His breath was hot and moist, and she could feel it puffing against her lips. She flicked her tongue out, sweeping her lips, locking eyes with him. The dark hue of his usually bright blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine, a curl of need drifting down her groin, as his gaze fleeted from her lips, down her neck, up her eyes again.

“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you think Shark,” she said whispering practically into his lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he went down the last stretch, pressing his thin lips against her full ones. It was a timid kiss, nothing more than a chaste peck, before he pulled back.

“Jesus fuck Dep, you sure ‘bout this?” He asked, fanning her face with breathed words. “‘Cause I’m totally into this, but you’re like, you’re-- you’re ten football stadiums outta my league and I’ve been wantin’ to-- been wantin’ to do this from since fuck knows when.”

She gave him a lopsided smirk, and caught his lips with hers, sucking and nipping at his bottom one, pushing her tongue into his mouth, earning a soft groan from him. She felt him loosening up, his right hand now holding her tight at the small of her back, pulling her flushed up with him with an eagerness that made her moan. Wetness spread on her panties at the feel of his erection rubbing against her stomach, trembling as she thought of his calloused hands grazing her over sensitive skin, dipping into her. Fuck.

She felt her knees buckling and held onto the hard line of his shoulders as his tongue circled and pressed against every corner of her mouth, his ‘stache and beard tickling her chin and jaw.

“Ain’t you gonna bust our asses for public indecency po-po?” He said between gasps, his lips nibbling the rim of her jaw, sucking on the soft skin of her neck.

She smiled, lost in the tingling sensation of his tongue against her skin, craning her neck to allow him better access. And boy, oh boy, as much as she liked to be fucked against the wall by the pyromaniac of her dreams, they definitely needed a better spot.

“Mary’s office is-- is just right there,” she managed to stutter between sharp gasps, signaling to the door at their right.

He said nothing, pulling her into a tight embrace, ushering her inside the dark room. When the door closed behind them, he crashed her mouth with his and picked her up from the floor sliding his hands down to cup her ass. He squeezed gently making her gasp into his mouth as she felt each one of his fingers digging into her skin. Her parted thighs closed around his hips, skirt rolling up, as he moved her to the sturdy desk in the corner, placing her on top. His hard on rubbed against her panties and she grinded her hips, coaxing a growl from him that she swallowed eagerly, tongues tangled in a wet mess. He rolled his hips in response, cajoling a loud moan from her.

“All good Dep?” He smirked breaking an inch apart, his pupils blown wide with hunger of her, flaring up her own desire.

She didn’t remember to have wanted anyone as she wanted him, in that knee-weakening, panty-drenching, make-you-shiver all around kind of way.

“You ass.”

He gave her an eyebrow waggle that elicited a chuckle from deep within her belly. God, she was screwed. She fucking loved this idiot and he--. Don’t go there . She finally surrendered her trophy, taking his cap off and her fingers skidded under his hoodie, digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders, licking his jaw, and pressing flat kisses in every inch of exposed flesh she could reach. She couldn’t believe how wet she was already, a sodden patch on her undies that was probably soaking the front of his pants as well. A pink flush bloomed on her cheeks at the thought. He unbuttoned her flannel, slowly, taking his time as he sucked her earlobe without stopping the infuriating roll of his hips. It was something she wasn’t expecting. Sharky jumping her bones like a rabbit in heat? Yeah. Sharky being all smooth and devouring her one course at a time? Definitely not.

“Fuck, Sharky,” she said huffing a moan and tugging at his chestnut hair, while he finally opened her shirt and unclipped her bra, stripping them off her.

He traced the rose tattoo on her upper left breast with flitting kisses, his beard adding to the pleasure of it. “Shit babe, you’re beautiful.” His raspy voice scrapped across her skin, flaring goosebumps all over her, and she tilted her head back, mewling when he closed his mouth around one nipple.

Her fingers carded in his hair as he sucked, tongue circling and lapping at it, while his hand groped her other breast, kneading it gently as his thumb rolled over her nipple. The pace of his tongue had her rolling her eyes, as he licked the valley between her breasts, mouth now moving and closing around her other hard nipple.

“Jesus fuck, shorty, you got such a nice pair,” he said squeezing both in his hands, before giving two hard sucks to her pert peaks, “could eat them all day long.”

“Ah! Glad you-- like them,” she whimpered.

He pulled back, taking off his shirt and hoodie, and she admired his flame tattoo going up his arm, joining to a skull on his right pec. She propped up on her elbows, humming when her fingers grazed the toned lines of his abs and chest, not too buffed but just enough. Just right .

He rolled up her skirt, bunching it up at her waist and hooked his thumbs at the sides of her black panties. Her cunt was already throbbing in anticipation and she bit her lip watching him getting rid off her underwear.

“Grab onto some shit babe,” he said kneeling in front of her, grinning with teeth at her, “Imma give you the Boshaw special.”

She barely had time to brace herself before he hoisted her legs up on his shoulders and his lips skimmed along her inner thighs, fingers stroking her damped folds, sliding along her slit.

“Fuck Dep, you’re so fucking wet.” He was almost purring, one hand now palming on her mound to squeeze gently while the other spread her open, two fingers slipping easily inside her.

She shivered, spilling broken words, digging nails in his scalp and her thighs tensing around his head. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of her, controlled and steady movements building up her orgasm, lips and tongue teasing her vulva, nuzzling the patch of wiry hair.

“Man, look at ya, you’re perfect y’know?,” he said planting fat kisses along her inner thighs, lazily pumping his fingers into her, his other hand grabbing her hip, thumb drawing circles on her skin.

She grunted as any response. Her whole body was on fire, every last nerve raw and feeling his every move. He started scissoring as her breathing became ragged, chest going up and down as he now sucked on her labia. He stopped suddenly and she mewled in disappointment, before she felt his tongue at her entrance. He gave big, broad strokes along her slit, finally pushing his tongue all the way in, curling it, following the angle of her walls.

“Holy shit-- shit, man, ah!” She yelled and her voice sounded like a screech in her own ears. He was tearing her apart, one thrust at a time, her throat unable to emit more than cracked moans and whimpers. She writhed on the desk, her body now covered by a thin sheet of sweat.

She groped and squeezed her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples, her hips bucking instinctively into his mouth.

“Holy fuck shorty, you put my porn collection to shame,” he said with a hoarse voice glancing at her, eyes fixed on her fingers teasing her nipples, his gaze almost searing her through and through.

His cheeks were flushed as he finally closed his lips around her clit, making her holler louder than before. Fuck! His fingers filled her again, before her walls complained at the loss of his tongue, and he let out a moan that pulsated on her clit wrecking her completely.

Her head was spinning, heart thrumming in her ears as he sucked the nub, adding his tongue to the mix, alternating between light flicks and steady strokes. She was positively thrusting her hips forward. Her stomach tightened, the ache in her core now a pulsing beat she was closer to topple.

“Ah-- shit Shark, you’re amazing, ah, shit!”

She entwined tense fingers on his hair, pulling his face closer as his rhythm quickened, licking and sucking her more frantically. His teeth raked at the bundle of nerves, then sucking again and his fingers curled inside her hitting against that sweet spot. Her vision blurred and with a loud, keen cry she finally came on his face, gushing out all over him. When he stood up, licking his lips and cleaning his mouth with the heel of his hand and a cocky smile plastered on his face, she knew she needed him. All of him.

“Jesus Shark, I-- that was some good shit ,” she panted, the quivers still raking over her body, her legs feeling like jello.

“Told ya I wasn’t kidding, babe.” The look on his eyes was feral as he pulled her up, kissing her roughly, biting her lower lip, and pushing his tongue inside her mouth. She melted in his embrace, tasting her own salty tinge in his lips.

His bulging cock still trapped in his jeans rasped her over sensitive skin and she arched in his arms.

“Can you-- can you fuck me now?” she almost begged when they broke apart.

“Don’t need to tell me that twice, shorty.”

He unbuckled and unzipped his pants as fast as he could, and his cock sprang free in no time. Her walls clenched at the sight. It was thick and longer than she’d thought, the perfect curve at the tip sending a bolt of lust to her cunt.

He pressed his body against hers, rubbing his tip along her entrance, coating himself in her wetness. They kissed slow and thoroughly, his hands clasping her waist.

“Can we change scenery?” she whispered a scant inch away from his ear eliciting a gulp from him.

“What you got in mind?”

She guided him to sit in a padded chair, and he flopped down with a thud, his pants pooling at his ankles. She shimmied her hips, shucking off her creased skirt, bending over before him with her back turned.

“Now that's just cruel Dep,” he drawled.

She faced him, giggling as she straddled him, sitting high on his thighs, his hard dick pressed between them, his tip brushing below her navel.

“That's better,” Sharky said and she hummed in approval.

He cradled the nape of her neck, pulling her down for another kiss, as his other hand crept up her thigh grabbing a handful of her ass.

She closed her hand around his cock, her thumb smearing down the pre-cum beads from his tip. His tongue glided across her lips as she pumped him slowly, gulping down his moans and throaty grunts.

When she lifted her body off him supporting with a hand on his shoulder, he looked at her almost in awe and a tide of prideful lust beamed inside her. Yes, he wanted her, maybe as much as she wanted him. He lined him up to her entrance until his tip grazed her folds. Sharky bit his lower lip, his fingernails now almost scratching her skin. She sank down slowly, both staring down at his cock disappearing inside her to the hilt.

He let out a strangled moan, tilting his head back. “Oh shit.”

“Damn, Shark,” she whimpered.

He filled her just right, the stretch stinging slightly but not painful. She moaned rolling her hips, adjusting at his size.

“You okay babe?,” he asked between a low moan and a heavy grunt, clasping her hips and steadying her on his lap.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, closing her eyes for a second, reveling in the sensation of his erection throbbing inside her.

She started bouncing with a slow rhythm, savoring how he spread her wide every time she dropped down on his cock. Her toes curled, and a myriad of small gasps whiffed against his neck as she buried her face into his maddening scent. He shifted his position a little to angle into her, meeting her thrust for thrust, rocking his hips upwards.

“Oh, fuck Dep, you’re so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ tight--,” he said brushing her ear shell with moistened lips, “best fuck I’ve had, shit!”

“You’re- ah, you're not so bad yourself,” she said with a smirk, feeling the layers of his control tattering with every clench of her cunt around his cock.

He shot her a wolfish smile, a hand sliding to cup her breast, taking it to his mouth. She cried out when he sucked hard, his teeth grazing her nipple, and fingers massaging the surrounding swell.

Damn, he was good. With a strong hand on her ass cheek he guided her movements as she kept plunging onto him harder and faster. She arched into his touch when he snapped at her breasts and then anchored his hands at her bottom.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!,” she yelped almost singing her curses when he grounded her down on his lap, licking and sucking at her collarbone.

“Shit Dep,” he moaned between airy grunts, “wanna-- wanna fuck you forever babe, you’re fucking delicious.”

She was barely listening at this point. The way he angled his hips to ram into her, knowing exactly where to hit was making her vision bleed to white, her cries probably loud enough to let anyone outside know what was going on there. His mouth seeked hers, kissing her softly, almost sweetly, in complete contradiction to their hard fucking. When they broke apart, foreheads touching, he looked at her breathless and longing. Her heart flitted in her chest, getting all fuzzy but she stomped the feeling down. Live the moment . And so she did, closing her eyes focusing in the rippling pleasure bursting inside her in wild flames.

“Look at me Dep,” he begged her, pressing his thumb flat against her clit, and she cooed while his hips jerked against hers. “Wanna see you come on me, shit- you’re more than beautiful.”

He circled her nub with steady movements and she leaned back supporting on his thighs for more leverage, pushing down harder and faster until it was too much.

“Oh, shit, shit, fuck Shark, holy shit! ” She crumbled forward, scratching his shoulders, walls clamping down on him and boy had he been right all along, she was hollering her lungs off.

He kissed her, pounding steadily still, whispering words she was too far gone to catch and held her tight as she rode the waves of her orgasm, her skin prickling with random bursts of pleasure flooding her like a tidal wave. His fingers now threaded in her hair, another hand spread wide on her back as he chased his own release, mouth wide open against her neck.

“Fuck babe, I’m close,-” he grunted.

Shit . Her mouth watered at the thought of having him all over her, so she rotated her hips when he wanted to stop, lifting her ass and dropping down, still managing to fuck him how she wanted.

“Please, Dep, I can’t--” he begged digging his fingers in the plump flesh of her hips.

When she felt the tremor in his body, she pulled off of him as he growled, letting him pump out his load, hot and thick, on her breasts.

He looked at her slack jawed, almost awestruck, as she slid a finger through his cum, tasting him with a moan. “Fuck shorty, you’re amazing,” he panted, milking the last spurts of his throbbing dick onto her. “I fucking love you-- shit, fucking love you.”

She felt her cheeks burning, as her brain fumbled with dignified responses for that scenario. It was probably just the afterglow talking, she decided, so she tried to compose herself and smiled at him.

“I love you too Shark,” she said, standing up and kissing his forehead, amicably enough she thought.

She quickly searched for her flannel and something to clean with, to try and make a hasty retreat, but she found nothing. She picked up his cap from the floor and grunted, making short use of her shirt, not yet deciding if framing it or burning it later.

She heard the ruffle of his jeans and the clicking of his belt at her back, so she quickened her movements, putting on her panties and skirt.

“You mean it?” He grabbed her hips, turning her to face him.

If she could, she would’ve melted in a puddle of goo under his bright eyes, but she spur herself to not let her knees betray her. She placed the hat on him and rehearsed a confident smirk, one that she was far to feel as she stood in front of him, shirtless and emotionally wrecked.

“Yeah, hon, best pals, right?” She gave a gentle tug to the bill of his cap, but he didn’t relent.

“C’mon Dep, y’know what I’m talking ‘bout,” he said and she trembled feeling his thumbs drawing circles on her hip bones, “‘cause I was dead serious.”

She gaped at him, as he towered over her and-- Maybe she didn’t get that right.

“I don’t understand Shark,” she said blinking as if she had been staring at the sun for too long.

“Jesus fuck Dep,” he bristled, “I’m tryna telling ya I love you!”

She blinked again, frozen in place and she felt his hands sliding off her. No, no don’t go.

“Wait, Shark!” She reached to hold his hand, and took his fingers to her mouth, kissing them softly. “I do-- fuck, by now saying I love you it’s an understatement.”

An all teeth smile broke on his face. “Shit, for real?”

“Real deal,” she said, tenderly caressing his face as she had dreamed so many times before. Fuck, it was finally true.

He smiled at her with unbridled love and kissed her, slowly, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb.

“So, what now?” She asked looking around, when they parted, “I can’t leave in a jizz-covered shirt.”

“It’s cool, babe. I got you.”

He reached for his shirt and hoodie, giving her the latter. When she put it on, it almost covered the hem of her skirt.

“It looks like a fucking dress on me,” she complained.

“Nah, you look fine as hell, Mrs. Baeshaw.” He slid a hand around her waist, nuzzling her ear, unable to erase the foolish smile from his face.

She gave a short laugh. ”Pet names and all uh? You look awfully pleased with yourself Boshaw,” she said quirking a brow.

He chuckled, hugging her tightly. “Hell yeah, finally nailed it babe, you’re the fucking jackpot.”

#far cry 5 #fanfiction #my writing #sharky boshaw x female deputy #sharky boshaw #deputy rook #I CAN'T HELP MYSELF OK???#I JUST LOVE THIS PYRO SO FUCKING MUCH IT HURTS #and yeah #I probably won't stop writing these self as fuck indulgent fics #no regrets

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trendingtattoo · 4 years

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Best Antibacterial Soap To Use On Tattoos

1. Dr Numb Topical Anesthetic Foaming Soap

Dr Numb is a very good tattoo soap or antibacterial soap. It is an anesthetic soap that features 4% lidocaine, a topical anesthetic, which blocks nerve signals. Also, it consists 0.24% Benzethonium chloride, a germ-killing disinfectant, which is good to sanitize the skin. Dr Numb Topical Anesthetic Foaming Soap helps you keep your tattoo ultra-clean and pain-free. Also, it helps to avoid itching.

2. H2Ocean – Blue Green Liquid Soap

Another very good tattoo soap is H2Ocean. It is in fact one of the top recommended antibacterial soaps for new tattoos. It has benzalkonium chloride that is good for killing infection-causing bacteria and other microbes. Since it is mild, it can be used on any skin type, but it is perfect for sensitive skin. Moreover, H2Ocean is free of artificial fragrances and parabens. Also, it is rich in moisturizing aloe vera that helps in preventing from cabs. The best part is – you don’t even need to rinse it – just wiping with a clean cloth will be enough.

3. H2Ocean Blue Green Foam Soap

Another tattoo soap from H2Ocean is – H2Ocean Blue Green Foam Soap. Yeah, H2Ocean makes two versions liquid and foam. H2Ocean Blue Green Foam Soap also has same ingredients – benzalkonium chloride that disinfects the skin and aloe vera to moisturize. In addition to this, it’s also free of fragrances and parabens. For best results it is recommended to use Ocean Care lotion after washing with the soap.

4. Camel Milk Foaming Tattoo Soap

As the name says it all, this is specifically meant for washing tattoo. This antibacterial soap is based on organic ingredients along with camel milk powder. The best part is – It creates a rich lather that helps one to foam away dirt and oil. The main ingredients used in the soap are: aloe, coconut oil, glycerin, and olive oil. All these together make a rich moisturizing agent that soothe and hydrate the skin. Moreover, it is free of chemicals, preservatives, or even polymers.

5. Tattoo Goo Deep Cleansing Soap

Tattoo Goo Deep Cleansing Soap is best antibacterial soap for Tattoos & Piercings. It is absolutely free of fragrance. It’s pH-balanced that helps to avoid irritation completely, and the right amount of acidity in the soap keeps the skin from drying out.

6. Hustle Helper

Hustle Helper is an antimicrobial soap that comes with 5% lidocaine. It can be used before and after getting the tattoo. It is a wonderful soap that keeps your skin comfortable and healthy. It comes with a 100% vegan formula that helps calm irritation and redness and stops itching and pain. The key ingredients used in Hustle Helper includes: aloe, green tea, rosemary, and chamomile. It is parabens free antibacterial soap.

7. Billy Jealousy Tattoo Wash

As the name says it all, Billy Jealousy Tattoo Wash is specifically meant for maintaining the tattoo. Billy is not used on a fresh new tattoo while it’s healing, because Billy has glycolic acid and fruit extracts that is used for a little exfoliation. Billy Jealousy Tattoo Wash is used to get rid of the dull skin that has dimmed your ink. The main ingredients in Billy Jealousy Tattoo Wash are; oat protein and cucumber, which hydrates your tattoo and make it look fresh and bright.

8. Defense Soap

The Defense Soap provides complete defense from bacteria, fungus, oils, dirt, smog, and viruses. It’s one of the most recommended antibacterial tattoo soaps. Is absolutely free of artificial dyes, fragrances, sulfates, petrochemicals, and drying alcohols. The presence of tea tree and eucalyptus oils in Defense Soap helps to deodorize and sanitize the skin naturally.

9. Dettol Anti-Bacterial pH-Balanced Body Wash

Dettol Anti-Bacterial pH-Balanced Body Wash is another antibacterial tattoo soap. Dettol’s body wash helps one to get rid of 99.9% of germs including E. coli, salmonella, and the flu. Dettol foams away dirt without even affecting the skin’s natural moisture. Also, the pH-balanced formula has menthol for that refreshing sensation and crisp aroma.

10. Dial Gold Antibacterial Liquid Soap with Moisturizer

The Dial Gold liquid soap consists of 0.10% benzalkonium chloride, a proven antibacterial agent. It is known for eliminating 99.9% of household germs. It is a mild antibacterial soap. It is in fact one of the least expensive options to go with.

11. Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser

Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser is specifically designed for sensitive skin conditions. The company claims that Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser is four times less irritating than any other soap. It has a neutral pH and it is very mild that can be used by any skin types.

12. Hibiclens Antimicrobial

Hibiclens is a medical-grade soap that is known to kill MRSA, fungi, and viruses. The key ingredients of Hibiclens Antimicrobial includes 4% chlorhexidine gluconate and 4% isopropyl alcohol. It’s an excellent tattoo soap, especially just after getting the tattoo.

13. Simple Antibacterial Bar Soap for Sensitive Skin

Simple Antibacterial Bar Soap for Sensitive Skin is absolutely free of artificial perfumes or dyes. It is a wonderful soap for delicate skin. It has Pro-Vitamin B5 that promote skin’s recovery.

14. Dr. Bronner’s Pure-Castile Liquid Soap – Baby Unscented

Dr. Bronner’s Castile soap is known to be eco-friendly soap. The baby version of Dr. Bronner’s Castile soap is super-mild for very sensitive skin. All the ingredients used in soap are organic. The key ingredients include coconut, olive, jojoba, hemp, and palm kernel oils. It keeps your skin moisturized and can be used regularly for the best care of your tattoo.

15. DHC Mild Soap,Face Cleansing Bar

It is however a costly soap, but believe you me the DHC Mild formula is perfect for cleaning the tattoos on the face. It keeps your skin hydrated and moisturized, thereby making breakouts and dryness go away completely.

16. Neutrogena, The Transparent Facial Bar

Neutrogena is a great soap in budget. Neutrogena’s glycerin-based facial bar clean the skin and is absolutely free of harsh ingredients like dyes or detergents. It’s a wonderful tattoo soap for face tattoos or tattoos in sensitive areas.

17. Dr. Woods Unscented Baby Mild Bar Soap with Organic Shea Butter

Dr. Woods Unscented Baby Mild Bar Soap with Organic Shea Butter is comparable with Dr. Bronner. Dr. Woods Unscented Baby Mild Bar Soap with Organic Shea Butter is based on sustainable palm oil, coconut oil, and Fair Trade shea butter. In addition to this, it has Vitamin E and rosemary that speeds up the healing of new tattoos.

18. Sebamed Fragrance-Free Gentle Face and Body Hydrating Cleanser

Sebamed Fragrance-Free Gentle Face and Body Hydrating Cleanser is a wonderful cleanser that doesn’t disrupt the natural pH of the skin and protects against dehydration and infection. It’s a wonderful formula for treating conditions like burns, psoriasis, and scars after operations and that makes it a great soap for cleansing tattooed skin. In addition to this, it’s free of dyes, parabens, and other irritants.

19. Clearly Natural Glycerin Bar Soap, Unscented

Clearly Natural Glycerin Bar Soap, Unscented is a Glycerin based soap, which is popular for complete cleansing and leaving no residue. Since it contains Glycerin so it is not a good choice for washing oily skin.

20. CeraVe Body Wash for Dry Skin

Last but not least, CeraVe Body Wash for Dry Skin, which includes essential ceramides. Ceramides is important for maintaining moisture in the skin. Also, this soap is free of sulfates and parabens.

Why should you Use Antibacterial Soap for Cleaning your Tattoo

As said earlier, it is very important to keep your tattoo clean and moisturized. So, the moment you get a tattoo it becomes crucial that you maintain it, and if you fail to do so it can create problems or may be it can lead to infection. More often than not, tattoo artists provide specific aftercare instructions about what to do and what not to do. Also, he instructs about using the right antibacterial soap for cleaning the tattoo and to moisturize it with good lotion.

Also Read: Tattoo Hygiene Practices

Keeping your tattoo cleaned speeds up the healing process. Depending on the size of your tattoo, it might take a few weeks to a few months before it completely heals. Since a tattoo is nothing but an open wound, during the healing period, it can be exposed to infection. That’s why it is very important to clean it using an antibacterial soap.

Step-by-Step Guide how to wash your Tattoo

The moment your tattoo will be done, your tattoo artist will wrap it with a transparent sheet, before you leave the tattoo studio. This step is to prevent the entry of bacteria and viruses that could damage the skin. After reaching home after two –three hours you are allowed to remove the wrap, but then you need to take good care of your tattoo. If you will not keep your tattoo clean, the risk of excessive scabbing will increase. However, a slight scab is normal.

Also, it is crucial that you follow the right way to clean your tattoo. And here is how you can clean your tattoo…..

Step 1: Wash your hand first before you start cleaning your tattoo

Cleaning your hand before you actually clean your tattoo is. As we all know that our hands are actually carriers of bacteria, and cleaning a tattoo with un-cleaned hands result in an infection. So, before cleaning your tattoo thoroughly wash your hands with the right antibacterial soap, you can use any of the soaps mentioned in the post itself.

Step 2: Wet the area where your tattoo is

Now it’s time to wet the area where your tattoo is. Make sure you use lukewarm water only. Using too hot water can open up the pores and can also be painful. Also, it is crucial that you do not put your tattoo directly under running water. Instead, take lukewarm water in a jug or bowl and pour it slowly on your tattoo.

Step 3: Rub the water in a circular motion and apply antibacterial soap

Not all antibacterial soaps are in foam form, some are concentrated and they need to be diluted first. I your soap is also concentrated then you will need to dilute it first and then apply it on the area where the tattoo is, make sure you apply in circular motion. Do not ever use a towel or washcloth with soap to scrub the tattoo. Also, don’t rub it too hard, keep your motions gentle and soft. Putting excessive pressure can damage the new tattoo.

Step 4: Now rinse the tattoo and let it dry.

Last but not least, clean your tattoo nicely, leaving no traces of soap on the surface. Once you have removed your soap gently dab the area with a paper towel and let it dry. Dab it gently and softly. How to Choose the Right Antibacterial Soap for Your Tattoo

Of course, it is not easy to choose the right soap for your tattoo amongst so many options available. But still you can’t just pick any soap. You need to choose the best soap for your tattoo to speed up the healing procedure. For choosing the right soap for your tattoo follow the below instructions……

1. See all the Ingredients

While purchasing your tattoo soap, spend some time in looking into the label of the soap so that you can know which all ingredients are used in the soap. It is important that you look for soaps that are made organically and naturally, instead of spending in a soap that contains harsh chemicals. Because harsh chemicals can affect your tattoo adversely, which is not wise! Also, make sure that the soap is free of parabens and alcohol, as alcohol makes the skin dry.

2. Your Skin Type

We all have different types of skins, from normal to extra oily. Hence it is crucial that the soap you buy is according to your skin type, as it will also impact your tattoo. For instance, if you have dry skin you should buy a soap with naturally moisturizing agents so that the area of your tattoo doesn’t remain dry.

3. Antibacterial Properties

Another most important aspect is to see the antibacterial properties of the soap. Your soap should be able to provide your 100% protection from bacteria and external allergens or foreign elements. If your soap is not doing the job properly then there is no point of spending money on that.

4. Fragrance

More often than not, these medicated or antibacterial soaps are fragrance free, because fragrances in soaps can cause skin irritation, especially when they contain chemicals. But it is always good to skip soaps with artificial dyes and fragrances. So, choose wisely!

FINAL VERDICT

Though you can choose any soap for cleaning your tattoo but the best would be the one that helps your skin to heal properly. Choosing the one with moisturizing will help your tattoo heal faster. To keep your tattoo looking its best and maintain the health of your skin use the right soap. Using the right soap will not only speed up the healing process, but also it will prevent your tattoo from any infection and other serious problems.

Happy Tattooing…. ☺ ☺

#Antibacterial Soap To Use On Tattoos #Antibacterial Soap #soap #tattoo care #tattoos #skincare #dry soap #tattoo soaps #antibacterial #ink #fragrance #skin

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4birds-of-a-feather · 6 years

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Chapter 26 - Man, it doesn’t show signs of stoppin’ [part 5]

Birds Of a Feather

(In the previous chapters: Layla’s a bit jealous about Eddie and Sara’s sudden complicity, but she calms a bit after spending some time with the guy, who’s offered himself to help her to prepare dinner. Against her wishes, Sara’s forced by her best friend to abandon her pajamas and dress up all dollish; the bell rings and the girl’s compelled to go see who’s there. WARNING: A Christmas Eve chapter when Carnival Easter has already ended?! You know it: job, University and illnesses slowly kill us. Bear patience with us, guys 🌷)

Sara completely ignored the spyhole – otherwise she would have surely refused herself to let in whoever was standing on the other side of the door – and proceeded to fling the door open. <Where has she hidden those legs for all this fuckin’ time???> was the first thought of one of the two figures that appeared in front of her, but his friend abruptly stopped his inner monologue by giving him a couple of nudges and starting to sing a ridiculous rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, so he couldn’t do anything but joining him in that performance. In the meantime the girl was watching their impromptu show leaning against the door jamb, with her legs crossed and a straight face. “I believe you two are expecting some candy or a couple of dimes as a reward for this little show of yours, hm?” she promptly addressed them immediately after they had finished to sing. “Well, actually we didn-” “Wait here, I’ll be back in a few secs” she turned on her heel and went back into the loft, while the first guy hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the way her skirt had slightly twirled. “A reward?” the other guy pointed out, but his friend just shrugged and kept on staring at the exact point where the girl had been standing. “Weeeeell,” Sara had finally reappeared in front of them “here’s the agreed-upon payment: wouldn’t want you guys missing it for anything in the world” and, thus said, she blared an air-horn out of nowhere with a deadpan expression. At that sound both Layla and Eddie ran out the kitchen to find Stone and Mike covering their ears while Sara was doubled over laughing. “Fuck, you should have seen your faces when I mentioned the reward! And when you finally received it?! Honestly, I don’t even know how I was able to keep that straight face for all that time!” the girl kept on giggling, while her best friend gave her a shove and started to scold her. “Saraaa! That wasn’t nice at all, c’mon!” “Not nice, but funny? Sure as hell!” “C’mon, guys, don’t stand at the door – come in!” Ed had addressed his bandmates, still intent on rubbing their ears, and the guys finally followed him inside. When Mike was walking past her to go in the living room, Sara quickly turned and gave him a smacker on the cheek that left him speechless. “Wh-” “You didn’t deserve it, your only fault was being in company of Gossard – I had to rectify the low blow” “Oh yes, my presence is so harmful for you – enlighten me about this mean comment of yours, Fancini” the person concerned crossed his arms with a slight smirk on his lips. “Tell that to my poor skirt – you almost burnt it with all those stares” she retorted, chuckling when the guitarist flushed “C’mon, Gossrad, let’s join the others in the living room” and, thus said, she linked arms with him and dragged him to the other room. “… so we looked at each other and said ‘let’s head to VedderAment Residence and see if Layla’s preparing some of her masterpieces’, and here we are” Mike was explaining their presence among them, and Eddie quickly answered back. “You’re really lucky, because our chef here was supposed to spend Christmas with her family, but her flight was cancelled because of the snow” “Speaking of snow! You guys take a seat, I’m going to make something hot for the two of you so you won’t freeze” Layla stepped into the conversation and made her way to the kitchen, with her best friend immediately following her. “You better keep an eye on the dinner, El – I won’t eat ash” Sara clicked her tongue while shaking her head “I’ll make two hot chocolates for our guests, don’t worry about it” “Hot chocolate made by you? I don’t know if I should be more perplexed or frightened by this offer” “It’s not an offer, Gossrad: I’m going to force it down your throat, you’ll see” she chirped, finally entering the kitchen. “She makes a mean hot chocolate, I can assure you” the singer intervened in her defense, while Stone looked at him as if he had grown another head. “See, Stoney? We don’t have to worry” the other guitarist smiled at him, then shouted in Sara’s direction “Can I have marshmallows?? Pretty pleeeease??” “Just because it’s you who’s asking!” she shouted back, while Layla looked at her suspiciously “Are you sure everything’s ok, Sara? You don’t look too much like yours-HA! I KNEW IT! When did you steal that beer from our stock? That’s for the party!” “Shut up, I’m on a roll” the other girl stuck her tongue out and went on with her hot-chocolate-making task. After she finished, she put the mugs, the sugar bowl and the milk jug on a tray and began her journey toward the living room – in the meantime Layla had already shouted “Incoming supplies!”, hoping that somebody would come from the living room to help her best friend. Luckily for them, Mike promptly snatched the tray from Sara’s shaky hands before the girl could cause the formation of a giant lake of hot chocolate in the middle of the hallway. “Rescue completed – over and out!” the guitarist released a sigh of relief that was immediately replaced by a huge beam.

************************************************************************************************ Stone and Sara were in the middle of a heated argument about what was the best Christmas rock song and Mike took the opportunity to leave using the excuse of taking away the tray with the empty cups. As he walked into the kitchen he was met by the image of a small playful flour fight between Layla and the singer of his band. <Uh, it’s like being between a rock and a hard place, a sarcasm match in the other room, two lovebirds making goo goo eyes at each other in this one…> “Ok, just ignore me guys! I’m waving a white flag. I’m neutral. I’m Switzerland” the guitarist said as he walked across the kitchen and put the tray into the sing. “Hey Mike! You don’t really give off the Swiss vibe really” said Eddie, as she was dusting off some flour from his hair. “Why not? Am I not neat enough?” he fake pouted. “Why would you say that? Don’t listen to him, Mikey, you’re neat. And you still have chocolate, so you’re the most Switzerland than anybody else here” Layla walked up to him and removed a small trace of chocolate from the corner of Mike’s mouth with her fingers. “Thank you Miss Boulais” the guitarist took a bow as he thanked the girl. “You’re welcome McSweetie” she mirrored his gesture and as she did and looked down Mike noticed the slightly annoyed face of his bandmate behind them. “Ok, I’m gonna leave you two to your… uh… thing and go back dealing with the two comedians in the living room” Mike takes a few steps back before being stopped by Layla. “Oh no please stay here, I could use some help actually” she blocked him by grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “I think… you got all the help you need actually” Mike insists pointing at Eddie, whose crease between his eyebrows was becoming more and more threatening. <This guy’s so jealous, I’m basically dead> “But it’s all almost done, the pastry’s ready” Eddie complained. “The puff pastry’s not ready yet, it needs to rest and chill in the fridge for a while. So I’m gonna go call my parents in the meantime, while you two can start peeling and cutting the fruit for the fruit salad. Would you?” Layla pleads with googley eyes. “Sure!” Eddie immediately obliged grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and Mike agreed too. <Jesus, it just takes a flutter of her eyelashes to have him do anything she wants. We lost him forever> Mike smirked to himself as he took a clean knife and started peeling a kiwi. “Thank you guys! I’ll be back” Layla said rushing outside the kitchen. “Didn’t you call your family back home?” Mike asked distractedly as he focused on his task. “Uhm not yet, maybe later… What about you?” he murmured without looking up from the chopped apple pieces. “I called them at noon, I’ll go there tomorrow for Christmas lunch. It’s a tradition, the only kind of tradition I like. Roast turkey, pecan pie and eggnog. And dying on the sofa with unbuttoned jeans. Dinner at Stone’s family house is another tradition but we had to give it up this time. Stoney couldn’t stand the presence of his sisters…“ Mike started to tell. "Why? I thought they all got along…” Eddie wondered confused. “Oh they do! But you know, the older one, Star, is married and pregnant and now Shelly has a boyfriend too. He wanted to avoid the questions about when he will settle down too you know… Plus Star is due like right now and could deliver a fresh human anytime and is not exactly calm. She almost broke my hand as I shook hers when I met her” Mike recalled and cracked his still hurting fingers. Eddie smiled and thought about how he used to be the one who had already settled down with a girlfriend while his younger siblings were still dealing with school problems and dramas and teenage crushes. He missed them and his mum too and he hated that he couldn’t be with them this time. <I can’t be in the same room with that guy not even for a minute> “… And that’s why we came here. We were lucky” “Yeah considering what Layla’s preparing, I think we’d end up unbuttoning our pants on the couch too” Eddie claimed and McCready gave him an amused glance. “Eddie, I see you like her but I think you’d better keep your PDAs under control this time” he joked and was met with a handful of flour right into his face. “If you want a fight, you just got yourself one” Mike laughed and the two guys started to basically destroy the kitchen.

************************************************************************************************ “Hey, y’all! Come sit down at the table, dinner’s ready!” Layla called, as Eddie and Mike were bringing food from the kitchen and she was repeatedly trying to strike a match to light up the red candles of the centerpiece placed in the middle of the table. <Shit...> she cursed internally because every single match she tried was either breaking or simply not lighting up. “Here” the singer stepped up and used his lighter to light up the candles. “Oh thank you, Ed. You’ve just saved Christmas!” Layla cheered and didn’t notice the others had already taken their seats in the twinkling of an eye, at least until she heard Sara basically yelling into her ear. “Enough with this Christmas bullshit, let’s eat!” “Sara! Wait” Layla prevented her friend from helping herself to some baked pasta by playfully slapping her hand. “Wait what? We’re all here!” the other girl pouted, holding her hand a little back but also keeping an eye at her roommate, waiting for a moment of distraction to attack food again. “And where the hell did you sit?” Layla pointed out ignoring her friend’s reaction. “On a chair? Why? Should I have waited and be standing so we could pray and sing Kumbaya all together before eating?” Sara remarked with a smirk. “No, I just meant that that one’s supposed to be Ed’s place, since he lives here” the other girl explained, referring to the head of the table. “I live here too” Sara retorted. “You know what I mean...” “Hey, for me it’s not a problem at all, I can sit somewhere else” Vedder tried to settle the dispute but Layla insisted. “NO! It’s your seat and you’re gonna sit here. And, by the way, you just have to read” she went on and Eddie didn’t immediately get the meaning of her words. Then he looked down and noticed a place card next to the glass with his name written on it and a hand-sketched Santa surfer in the corner. “That’s cute” “I have a Christmas muffin! I mean, this is a muffin and there’s Mikey written over it; I guess it’s for me, is it?” Mike asked, waving his card around in an excited way. “It is, Muffin Man! How are things in Drury Lane?” Layla joked and the guitarist took his seat on her right. “How many other Mikeys do you think are in this place right now? And why am I a toad with a rifle?” Stone asked out of the blue. “That’s not a toad! It’s a fox!” Layla cried-laughed at the same time. “... A hunter fox” “It’s a fox with a guitar!” “A very badly drawn fox with a guitar, I may add” Stone said with a straight face and sat down in front of Mike. “Don’t listen to him, they’re cool.” Eddie reassured her, sitting down as Sara left him her seat “By the way, when did you do them?” “Oh, I just doodled something while I was talking to my mum on the phone” Layla explained, showing her own card to the others that represented the girl with a scrub and a mysterious vial in her hand. “Aaaaaaw, so cute!” Mike exclaimed while Sara was the last one to sit down, next to Eddie and right in front of Layla. “I won’t complain only because you drew me as a glamorous cat, you know my weak points” the girl winked at Layla, who started to fill the gang’s plates.

************************************************************************************************ “This quiche is pure heaven” Gossard said, almost licking his plate clean and then handing it to Layla for another round. “Oh well, actually I had to improvise with what I had in the fridge, it’s not the original quiche recipe. I didn’t have nutmeg and the large-grain salt would have been a better choice. And I had to use sour cream instead of creme fraiche but-” the girl answered and started a rant about her dish but nobody was really paying attention, as they were all busy eating. “Shut up, Layla, it’s good” Stone silenced her jokingly but with a brusque tone that made Eddie finally look up from his plate. “Hey...” “What? I said it’s good, it’s delicious. It was a compliment, darling” Stone shrugged as Layla passed him his now refilled plate. “That’s a not so ordinary way to make a compliment” Eddie complained whereas Layla giggled and ignored the whole exchange. “He’s generally sparing with praise, you should take it as it is” Mike reassured everybody as he poured himself some more wine. “I’m never sparing with these girls, I’m a gentleman” Stone remarked, taking Layla’s hand and pretending to kiss it. “Uhm?” Sara sensed she’d been mentioned somehow and, still chewing on her food, focused her attention on Gossard’s smug face. “What do you think of the food? Do you like it?” Layla asked the singer, who was taken aback and almost choked on the pasta. “Uh it’s, it’s great, the taste is good, very good, it’s... tasty” he mumbled. “Now that’s a much weirder way to make a compliment, Vedder” Stone made fun of him and his difficulties with words. “Dinner’s great and company too. But it’d be even better if the whole gang was here: anybody knows where the fuck Jeffy is?” Mike asked, filling up everyone else’s glass with red wine. “May I disagree with your last statement, McCready?” Sara gave him a nasty look and gulped down wine as if she was washing down a bad taste in her mouth. “He went to a party, I guess thrown by those two girls... you know... ” Stone replied, nonchalantly looking straight at Sara. “The ones we met at the Moore?” asked McCready, suddenly intrigued. “Yes, and I’m extremely surprised you remember about them, since you were plastered” Gossard chuckled and laughed even more when he made eye contact with an annoyed Layla. “Red and shorty... how were they called...” he put down his fork and was now rubbing his temple in an attempt to remember. “Sylvia and Theresa” Eddie answered and both Sara and Layla instinctively turned around to look at him. “You remember them well...” Layla huffed and the whole table froze. “Well, huh, Jeff told me their names before he left... I don’t even know who’s who” Eddie giggled nervously and didn’t really know why. <Why am I embarrassed? She isn't jealous... is she?> “Either one can go, then” the girl faked a huge smile before literally stabbing her quiche with the fork. “Ah, they can both go fuck off, they’re so boring” Mike dismissed the whole thing with a shrug and another sip of wine. “Yeah, fuck ‘em and their stupid party” Gossard chimed in and raised his glass for an imaginary toast. “... And fuck Jeff Ament too!” Sara added, imitating Stone and raising her glass triumphantly. “Weeeell, thank you so much, hun!” a voice exclaimed from the hallway and everybody turned around at the same time to see the person they’ve been talking about right there in the flesh. “Hey, Jeffy! We were just talking right about you” Stone stood up and raised his glass towards the bass player. “Yeah, I heard that, and you were using such nice words...”

#Eddie Vedder #Jeff Ament #Pearl Jam #Eddie Vedder fanfiction #Pearl Jam fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #Jeff Ament fanfiction #Birds of a Feather #chapters

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dahlialittlejames · 7 years

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Eventually Nick’s supplies run out and he knows he’s going to have to go get more ingredients. His gunk’s suffering now that he’s not eating as much, he knows it is, but it’s when he’s out of pesticide he finally plunges a hand through the glass of his money jar and carefully thumbs out a few twenties. Even balancing them with as much finesse as he can he can taste the exchange of a million hands on the paper.

“I can do this,” he says to himself, dialing down his radio with a prod from a stirring rod on the counter. His hands don’t shake and his breathing doesn’t hitch, but his body’s circulation preps for panic anyway. “I can go to a store. I live in a store!”

He drops the money into a plastic bag. Looks over an old ad for the price of bleach and pesticide and plans. There’s a shop around the corner, not even two blocks away. Does he drive? It’s not worth it if he’s risking more color doses to stay human on the road. No, he’ll just have to walk. He can walk to the store.

“Okay, okay. Easy.” This is easy. He dips a finger in his color mix and lets it ripple over his dwindling surface protection. His skin’s a bit off still, but it’s passable. He goes to the bathroom mirror to be sure.

Not melting. Nick’s not falling apart, and he can do this. “Just fifteen minutes, not even. Five minutes there, five minutes back.”

He opens the door, feels his shape shift a little but not enough to be noticed. He hopes.

There’s no glare of sunshine from having been inside so long. It’s actually still rolling clouds in February, no snow but overcast. He’s still sure to walk an inch above the ground to keep off the wet ground. No one else seems to be out walking, though. That’s good.

He continues up along the sidewalk, hands in his sort-of pockets and shoulders held in tight. Just five minutes there, five minutes back. No one to talk to him and keep him from his mission.

For all his worry, he’s surprised by how comforting the quiet of Perkins in the early hours is. It could be worse. He could be on the streets of Seattle again, surrounded by people who won’t notice a slightly weird man on a walk. Wait. That’s not comforting at all. Anyone who sees him is going to have attention span to notice if something’s off. His body goes white under his false colors at the thought.

His drift picks up speed and he tries to keep his legs moving enough to look like he’s running, but it just ends up looking off-kilter no matter what he does. He just smears past the mural wall on the side of the store, bolting for the door as fast as he can.

The automatic doors slide open and he tries to smile. Wouldn’t it be great if everywhere had automatic doors? He steps in, flinches a little at the greeting from the lady at the counter. Nick waves enough for her to keep her from thinking he’ll try shoplifting. Now comes the tough part.

He looks over the aisles. It’s weird, the glare of the store lighting so much whiter and brighter than he’s used to. Please, please, please have something…

There’s a cleaning aisle. He ducks in, sees it’s empty, sighs with relief. Still, he checks both ends before trying to pick up a bottle. For a second he tastes plastic in his fingers, but he closes his eyes and firms up his grip before picking it up.

And almost drops it once it’s off the shelf. It’s so heavy. How the heck is he going to get it home? He’s terrified for a moment, of losing color right here on the aisle and having to try and run home without being seen. He holds it together and keeps the bottle in his hands. Hefts it so he can keep it balanced on his arms, hugged to his chest. “You can do this,” he mutters.

Now for the pesticides. There’s a not a lot in the way of yard supplies, but even a store this small has a spot for insect killer and a few rakes. Not a lot of selection, and the labels are so tiny they’re tough to read unless he actually picks them up.

He nudges them on the shelf so he can read the labels. Organophosphates are what worked the last time. The closest he gets to it is a little bottle of plant spray. Not like he needs much.

“Need any help, sir?”

He twitches. Drops his bleach on the floor, dented but unbroken. The woman who spoke runs over to pick it up as he fights to keep his colors in place.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she says. “Here.”

Nick’s hands go to his chest. He wants to stick them under his armpits, to keep them from touching. The woman wears a vest with the store’s logo. She works here. She’s looking more and more concerned for him.

“I, uh- I’ll- take it,” he says, and holds out his hands for the bottle. She hands it over. It’s deathly slow for a second, before he has his bleach and reaches for the spray. “Thanks.”

“You look familiar,” she notes.

“I- I do?”

“Not customer familiar, like- do you work at the school?”

“Um.”

“I know Maddy was talking about a new teacher a bit ago. Mr. Mortimer’s assistant?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that’s… kinda me, I guess?” He doesn’t know why he’s so uncertain about this fact. He’s not so much an assistant as just a guest. Still, weird to think someone’s been paying attention to him outside the school. “How’s Madds doing?”

“She’s good. Kind of nervous about this year but she’s been doing really well in her science class. Tell Alan thanks for me, okay?”

“Ha! Yeah! Um, I’m just… going to get this and then I’ll go tell him.” Weird phrasing, like he’s running right out to find Alan waiting for him in the lot. God, he wishes he would. It’d be awkward and uncomfortable and quiet for a second, but-

Nick shakes his head. Madds’ mom helps him at the counter- “Quiet day so we only needed one checker over here,” she laughed- and at least doesn’t bat an eye about his purchases knowing who he is. She even pokes around to find out what kind of experiment or demo they might use the stuff for, but he just chuckles a little and admits they’re just for his home.

“Sounds like you’ve got a mess to clean up.”

Lady, you have no idea. He just laughs stiffly again and runs out the door with his stuff.

Once he’s out, he stands there by the mural with his bleach and bottle in hand and feels his shape beginning to slip again. His gunk isn’t going to hold up much longer without a good boost, but he can’t go drinking yet. He smiles to himself, though.

“Five minutes there, five minutes back,” he mumbles. Nick just stands against the wall a little longer. The mural’s of an old-timey market, like a country general store all in whites and blacks and blues. All the livestock has a faded look to them like a painted background in an old Disney movie. The ones where you know what a character’s going to grab because it looks like it’s done in pencil- and, boy, do these human caricatures look like they were done up as sketches.

It’s such a funny thing to hone in on, but he’s glad he’s a little less uncanny valley than these bozos even on his worst days. All Nick or no Nick, none of the inbetween stuff on this wall.

The idea reassures him as he continues along the wall toward the end of the block. Maybe soon he can get better, be Nick Cervos all the time instead of a sad puddle in an old convenience store. He can hug and shake hands and kiss and go for walks outside without glancing at the sky like it’s going to attack him at any second.

The first plip fizzles on his head and he fights to stay whole. More drops plinking to the pavement like change spilling from his pockets. Nick freezes, watching the dots appear on the ground and feeling all the stings like tiny bug bites all over him. Rain. If he were human he’d just have drippy hair in his eyes and wet lenses and maybe need to stand in front of a heater for a little bit.

Now rain means something else. His float springs to full speed, the goo in his body white hot and devouring up his color mix quicker and quicker. The taste of it’s overwhelmed by all the stings, all the water that used to be tasteless now just a shower of sparks on his head and shoulders and the front of his legs.

C’mon, c’mon, Nick. “I can do this. I can do this.” He clutches his boon in his arms.

The store’s three houses away, two, one more and an alley he gets into way too late. His colors are totally gone, but he’s hidden from view even if he’s not out of the rain. The spray bottle and the bleach, they’re in protected plastic. He can’t be out here another second.

Setting them down, he fumbles at the knob. He’d left his door open, right? What does he have worth stealing if someone even tried? Habit. Stupid force of habit and he’s kicking himself for it now.

And then he’s kicking the door, gets through it up to his ankle before he remembers to slime the rest of the way inside.

He lands with a splat on the other side, in the dark of the hall and lying on his back.

Nick’s panting. He’s not sure how but his body’s at least giving him the release of breathing whether he needs to or not. The panting spins to relieved, utterly disbelieving laughter. His goo’s screaming from the nicks and dents from the rain but he- he’s actually made it.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs. His face drips a little like he could be crying again, but that might just be his face after the rain. He did it. He’d turned a fifteen minute event into an ordeal that felt like hours but he did it.

After a moment he wedges the door open and snatches his prizes. His hand plunges through the plastic jug and absorbs the liquid inside, a tingle traveling up his arm into the rest of his goo.

All that work for a gallon of bleach that’s empty in minutes, and the bottle of pesticide he cradles between both hands like a firefly he’s afraid will fly off if he can’t cup it in time. He’s going to have to go back for more in less than a few days.

Nick corrodes the rest of the jug with his hands, crams it into a ball. Just throws it at his belly and lets it sink through. “That wasn’t so bad,” he repeats. The cheer’s weak even to his own ears. He lies again and again and slumps against the door.

#sad nick for the night #obnoxious #morphwrites #the dangers of being a goo man living on your own in oregon where it rains tooooo much

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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How to Organize Your Fridge added to Google Docs

How to Organize Your Fridge

Shutterstock

It doesn’t need to look perfect to make a big difference in how you cook

A cocktail of dread and guilt sometimes keeps me from going deep into my fridge. I have to move bunches of carrots and kale back to their designated shelves, and the takeout containers need to be stacked and labeled. And there, once hidden in the very back corner is a mushy, forgotten, aggressively decomposing head of lettuce. Those were some beautiful little gems, I sigh as I turn the near-liquid bag of green slop into my compost bin. I’ve watched so many once-perfect pieces of produce meet the same fate. I know if I was just a little more organized, I’d never have to deal with any of this.

Even before the pandemic, I cooked at home a lot, so I really had no excuse for letting perfectly good produce (and dairy, and okay yes, also some condiments) get lost in my not-very-big refrigerator. But organizing the fridge isn’t exactly like tidying up and putting the rest of the house in order. All those expiration dates — some in writing, some you just have to guess by sight or smell — can turn the fridge into a stage for anxiety. I genuinely enjoy the organizing itself, but I hate the idea of coming across food I’ve let go to waste. Sometimes in anticipation of this feeling, I’ll put the whole ordeal off until, well, the lettuce turns to goo and I have no choice but to clear it out. Reader, I put my head in the sand.

As I shelter in place, I’m really trying to stay on top of fridge organization, so I never have to tackle it in one dreaded evening, and — more importantly — so that I don’t waste any food. The truth is that organizing the fridge is neither complicated nor intimidating. It’s getting started that can take a little nudge. Consider this your nudge, and go forth with confidence as you label, shuffle, and give your fridge the makeover it deserves.

Start with a scrub down.

Okay, maybe not a full-on scrub down, but before getting into organization, you’ll want to start with a clean fridge. Take everything out that can safely sit at room temperature for an hour (this won’t take that long, don’t worry). Push everything else into the back corner, so you can clean around and underneath it when the time comes. Start by pulling out the bins, and shaking all of those old parsley leaves and carrot tops into the trash. You can wash the bins in your sink if you have space, but in my small apartment I usually just wipe them down.

I use a natural all-purpose cleaning solution, but don’t stress if you don’t have something like that around. You can use a diluted combination of (roughly) one part white vinegar to one part water to cut through those little bits of hot sauce and sesame oil on your shelves. A cleaning solution will also help rid the fridge of any mildewy or otherwise-unpleasant smells. Use a paper or cloth towel to wipe the fridge floor, the shelves, the roof, and any other nooks and crannies. Realistically, you’re not going to do this more than once every six months, so make it count.

If it needs to be thrown away... throw it away.

There’s not a lot to say here, but it does need to be said: If you’ve left something in the fridge too long, and it’s past the point of return, just throw it out. It’s tempting to keep that sad, limp broccoli for another week, thinking you might make a soup. If you have a real plan, keep it! If not, throw it away, and take note of what produce you use most slowly before buying more.

Designate shelf space by category.

I’m not going to tell you where you should put your cabbage, or which side of the fridge eggs go on. But generally speaking, life will be a lot easier if you designate certain shelves for certain foods. I learn and unlearn this lesson monthly. It takes finding something particularly spoiled under a pile of Brussels sprouts (which I’m convinced pretty much never go bad) to remind me that I should really start putting things where they belong again.

Keeping vegetables in the crisper drawers is a good place to start, and go from there. Maybe you decide to keep takeout, leftovers, and packaged foods on a top shelf, or front and center where you can reach them easily. I keep meat on the bottom shelf, so that it doesn’t ruin a week’s worth of vegetables on the off chance that it drips. Small bottles and condiments usually take their place in the fridge door’s shelves.

As your fridge fills up, you might decide some foods belong in the freezer. It’s never a bad idea to freeze meat, and lots of vegetables and fruits also freeze well. I don’t have the luxury of a large freezer, but if I did, I’d be freezing berries, sliced bread, and jars of cooked beans. The list goes on.

Use sturdy containers and bags.

Everything in the fridge will last a lot longer if you have some good containers and bags for storing produce and cooked foods. Mason jars are great for all sorts of storage, but you’ll want to have a few other options, for foods that might not fit so gracefully into a jar. Glass containers with lids that snap shut are great for cooked foods, because they keep a seal and have plenty of surface area. It’s also a good idea to put vegetables and leafy greens in reusable bags, where they’ll stay crisp and lovely for at least a few days longer than if you just chucked them in there unprotected.

You’re not just keeping food fresh by storing it in containers. If you put particularly pungent foods (like cut onions) in the fridge with no barrier between them and everything else, you’re going to have a lot of foods that unintentionally taste like onions in the coming days.

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A post shared by Hedley & Bennett (@ellenmariebennett) on May 8, 2020 at 3:15pm PDT

Label as much as you can.

If you’ve never worked in a restaurant kitchen, you might not think of blue masking tape and sharpies as part of the cook’s domain — they are. You can measure a chef by how well they label and keep track of everything in their refrigerator. By that measure, I’m a less-than-great cook, but I’m working on it. Don’t commit to labeling every single thing that goes into your fridge, unless you’re That Person, and you’ll stick with the program. Me, I only label containers I anticipate forgetting about, along with those containing grains and cooked foods that need to be used before they spoil.

As shelter-in-place continues to warp the concept of time, it’s important to remember you brought that takeout home two Mondays ago, not one. If you commit to keeping a running list on the outside of your fridge (see below), this step isn’t quite as important, but it still makes it much easier to quickly sort through your perishables and leftovers and decide what needs to be eaten or cooked next.

Make a list.

Once the fridge is nice and clean, use pen and paper to take note of each item as you put it back in its designated place and, if necessary, appropriate container. Attach this inventory list to the outside of your fridge. It doesn’t have to be a super-long, comprehensive list of every single thing you’ve ever put in there. Think of it more like a running list of your week’s groceries. Jot down perishables, note the date you put them in there, and cross each item off as you use it. If you want to go above and beyond, note how much of each ingredient you have. This process will add a little more work on the front end as you load things in, but it will make your life easier in the long run.

Elazar Sontag A list taped to the fridge will help you keep track of everything inside.

My mother, the patron saint of kitchen organization, doesn’t quite use this method, but she’ll tack her shopping list to the fridge, and jot down a few recipe ideas for each perishable item. That works well, too.

Think about breaking your list up into useful sections — produce, dairy, condiments, for instance — so you can easily check what you’ve got available, and what needs to be used next. Having this inventory available will also make writing up your next grocery list much easier. Is it possible you’ll still forget about something and let it rot for a few weeks? Probably. But with a little extra organization, you have a fighting chance of using everything before it goes bad.

This list will prove even more useful when organizing the freezer, since it’s particularly easy to lose and forget about food in there.

Make a game plan for your food.

This will feel more realistic and doable on some days than on others, but making a game plan for the ingredients in your fridge will help you work through produce, use up the last of a condiment or jug of milk, and create space for your next grocery haul. I’m not saying you should be thinking a week out, with a recipe planned for every meal. If that’s how your brain works, I envy you, and you probably aren’t reading this guide to begin with. But if you’re more like me, you’re still planning for today and tomorrow. That’s okay.

Think about some building blocks that’ll simultaneously use up anything on its last leg, and get you through the week. Use the last shallot to make a salad dressing that’ll keep in the fridge for an extra week. Roast carrots, broccoli, and other hearty vegetables together with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and store them in one of the snap-lid glass containers you purchased. Turn any sad-looking herbs into an improvised green sauce (go heavy on olive oil, lemon, and chile flakes), that’ll give them another lease on life, and is sure to be delicious on pretty much everything.

The idea here isn’t to meal prep for the week. You’re preparing some of your staple foods in very basic ways, so they’re available to you when cooking doesn’t feel like an option, or you just don’t have time.

Don’t get discouraged.

Generally, not stressing is... not my forte. But when it comes to organizing and maintaining the order of what is essentially just a very cold closet, try not to stress yourself out too much. Wasting food is a huge bummer, and it’s frustrating to lose a head of fennel in the black hole that is a messy fridge, but some days are going to be better than others.

Sometimes I don’t have the patience to put half an onion in a glass container, and it ends up cut side down on a little plate in the fridge where it makes absolutely everything else taste like onion. More often than not, kale skips the produce bag and gets squeezed into the crisper drawer. I use it the next day, and everything is fine. Every once in a while, I still come upon a poor head of lettuce that’s been sitting in there for who knows how long. I feel those pangs of shame, but I bounce back a little faster these days. There’s always tomorrow to clean out the fridge, write a new list, and try again.

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/5/27/21268077/how-to-organize-fridge-freezer-refrigerator-storage

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