#covid tattoo tips

[advicerlaara]

The way to Groom A summertime Beard, in line with professionals.

Your beard can also have regarded wonderful all wintry weather lengthy, however, it’s going to need some extra assistance this summer season. Blazing solar and sticky humidity tiers can leave once-high priced whiskers desperate for next-stage renovation. So, what to do whilst the warmth’s killing your appearance?

Let’s get the biggest question out of the way first: Will having a beard make you sense warmer in an already hot season? Now not necessarily, stated film and tv make-up artist Kerrin Jackson. “sincerely, your beard is absolutely maintaining you cooler,” she said. “Your sweat can evaporate without difficulty through beard hairs, so, in essence, it’s sincerely your very own natural facial cooling machine.” Emily Clark, the senior barber at Fellow Barber in the big apple, agreed: “Don’t think of it like sporting a woolen sweater for your face, but extra like a guard.”

Read on for extra recommendations from styling and beauty experts.

How (and the way regularly) to clean your beard

First, there’s the difficulty of washing. “human beings will wash their hair and face, but so regularly they forget their beard,” Clark said. “You don’t want to scrub it easy, but make certain which you’re operating through a gentle cleaning product, like a co-wash that carries each shampoo and conditioner. In an effort to leave the beard superb gentle, easy, and not greasy.”

While a few stylists propose the usage of the identical shampoo for the entirety, Jackson has any other concept. “Your beard hair and the hair for your head are distinctive beasts and want to be dealt with as such. Using your normal hair shampoo on your beard will strip it of its precious natural oils. Alternatively, I suggest searching out a terrific-great beard-precise wash. Avoid shopping for something with parabens or other powerful chemical compounds, considering that they’re simply too unfavorable.”

Jackson suggested washing your beard a couple of times a week. “anything more is overdoing it, and might bring about your beard hair appearing dry and lifeless.”

Purchase yourself a broom and a bottle

You’ll additionally need to sweep your beard on the normal, too. “A herbal boar bristle brush will paintings wonders to your beard,” Jackson stated. “it can additionally assist to gently exfoliate the pores and skin beneath, stimulate flow and growth the production of the natural oils that will assist it to stay its great lifestyles.” Hair artist Leonardo Rocco counseled: “Brush in the direction of the hair as it grows, which will assist save you ingrown hairs from developing.”

Further to treating yourself to a beard brush, you could want to buy yourself a beard-certain spray bottle. “in case you’re swimming inside the ocean or in a chemically dealt with swimming pool, give your beard a rinse in sparkling water afterward to rid it of any excess sea salt or drying chemical compounds,” Jackson said.

“Or you may strive a spritz from a water bottle, which can also be extraordinary clean to your face,” she advised. “My favored tip is to add a few drops of natural peppermint oil to a twig bottle. No longer most effective does this feel sensational, but the peppermint also is believed to sell and stimulate new hair growth. Just hold the peppermint to a few drops, and keep in mind that it usually desires to be diluted, or it could motivate skin burns or further damage.”

Develop a pre-bedtime beard recurring

“Your hair, skin, frame, and facial hair all require extra hydrating at some point of the summer months,” Jackson stated. “a great idea is to hydrate your beard within the evening when you’ve showered and are geared up for mattress. That way, your beard moisturizer has time to visit paintings at the same time as you sleep.”

Don’t skimp on hydrating remedies, like beard oil, just because it’s warm outdoor, the specialists stated. “due to the fact the hair at the face is generally dry, it’s going to need plenty of moisture to hold it gently,” Clark stated. “tender beard is all the more kissable, and if your beard is lengthy, it’ll be less complicated to manage and tangle-free if you use beard oil.”

Geared up to get your beard game up to the following level? Take a look at these professional-recommended products.

HuffPost may additionally get hold of a proportion of purchases made via hyperlinks on this web page. Each object is independently selected by using the HuffPost buying crew. Fees and availability are subject to alternate.

Woody’s Beard Balm

“I like to apply this as an all-in-one styling and remedy product,” Jackson said. “it’s made with panthenol and coconut oil, and it has sufficient beeswax to feature a medium-preserve oomph. It smells divine, too.”

Professor Fuzzworthy’s Beard Shampoo Bar

“I have a soft spot for this Aussie wonder product,” Jackson said. “it is loaded with healing natural substances like sunflower seed oil, coconut oil, olive fruit oil, and smoothing beeswax to help hold moisture in.”

Aloxxi Hydrating Shampoo and Conditioner

“Hydration is fundamental, that’s why I advocate this product,” Rocco said.

Aloxxi important 7 Restorative Hair Serum

“The use of a nongreasy oil is beneficial, and I’ve visible this product work wonders,” Rocco said.

Regular Oil

“I really love this flexible product,” Clark said. “it’s a mix of herbal and organic oils, which paintings well on both hair and skin. The skin below a beard regularly receives omitted and may be itchy, so this allows. Hair is most absorbent whilst moist, so follow the product when you’ve simply gotten out of the shower.”

Recommended Production for you.

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[fairiedance]

Masks for Protest Safety

I have seen a lot of people out protesting without masks. I want to point out that masks are not just for safety from illness! If you're at a protest that seems at risk of turning violent or being extra controversial in some way (being held in a hostile conservative area, for example) it is a very good idea to have a mask on you to avoid facial recognition software. Even if you don't do anything wrong there is always a chance law enforcement could give you a hard time for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time (particularly if you are a minority).

Other useful tips: Keep your phone turned off or carry a burner, wear long clothes to protect from chemical agents (and cover identifying tattoos), bring water (to wash eyes and drink), don't post photos of people without their consent, avoid contact lenses and eye makeup (due to pepper spray), don't carry anything you wouldn't want to get arrested with (drugs, valuables, etc), avoid loose hair and jewelry that can get caught or grabbed, write down (maybe on your skin) or memorize contact info for people you are with.

This post was prompted because I noticed throughout my fundraising that I have not sold any masks. This is totally fine, I've made plenty of other sales and stickers usually have the highest margins anyway. I do hope this means most of you are using keffiyehs or masks you have left over from Covid though! It's good to be safe (I'm always nagging the friend I'm raising money for to take more safety precautions at his protests, haha).

Here is a small sample of some of the masks I have:

As usual, ALL PROCEEDS from these are for my Palestinian best friend, to help his girlfriend afford to join him safely in America and to help his friends and family in Palestine and around the rest of the Levant who are being hurt directly and/or financially by the attacks on Gaza, the increasing Israeli raids in the West Bank and the collateral damage in surrounding countries. All designs found here (Redbubble will show you a random product, click on each to see more product options such as masks, stickers, shirts, mugs, etc). I'm still adding new ones nearly daily.

Thank you so much to everyone who has helped out so far!

[aritany]

sorry to be nosy, but do u have any insights as someone who went through a divorce at a young age?

don't be sorry - what a fascinating question! it's STORYTIME. i don't know if this is so much my 'insights' as it is ruminations, but i digress.

i guess my number one tip would be: don't marry a bigot,,,

i'm kidding. mostly.

i'm very transparent about why i got divorced (if you know me in real life, you know how true this is), but that's what it boiled down to. i got married VERY young, 95% due to deeply religious family on both sides, 5% because i truly believed i had found the person i was going to be with forever. if you're going to be together forever, why not just bite the bullet and get married young, right?

i came out to my ex-husband as bisexual super early on in our relationship (i think 2 months into dating) because i obviously needed him to a) know i was queer and b) be cool about it, and he was. if i recall, he said, "oh. ok, good for you."

(later, he told me that that moment was almost a dealbreaker for him. i NEVER would have known, based on how he reacted in the moment.)

as a married couple, we were awesome roommates and very good friends and overall a wonderful team. then i started properly deconstructing christianity around the same time i started thinking about gender, and covid hit immediately after. i didn't come out to anyone as nonbinary until march 2021, and when i did, he was the first person i talked to. he was... significantly less cool about it than he was with bisexuality.

here's the thing. he LOVED having a wife. in hindsight, it's really easy to see that i could have been anyone, and he was really ready to settle down. i have to give myself some credit, because i think i'm excellent, but i do think that to some extent i was in the right place at the right time and checked off a lot of his boxes. if that sounds a little cold to you -- a SHOCKING amount of cishet men do this. it's weird.

anyway, i was His Wife™, and while i was by no means a traditional christian wife, i was still a very she/her slay queen girly.

then i started committing sins. (got some tattoos. started writing about The Gays. started speaking out against the church. Cut My Hair Short [cue gasps]. started dressing more androgynously.)

he couldn't get his head around using gender neutral language for me. to his students (he was in education at the time) i was His Wife. to his family, i was His Wife, even after i came out to them too. classic wifeguy stuff.

my current partner (who is SO wonderful) was in the process of becoming that best friend you have really confusing gay feelings about, and had to deal with me talking about this and how i was just going to have to settle for being with this guy who wouldn't respect my gender, even when that disrespect started actually making my skin crawl when he'd get close. because hey, marriage is for life. it didn't even occur to me that we might get divorced until about 4 days before The Conversation. i was genuinely ready to stick it out with this guy who refused to really See me, because i thought that was what i had to do.

then came The Conversation. i'd been invited to be a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding and had agreed to wear a dress, because hey, it's her wedding. if she wants bridesmaids in dresses, sure. (i was still very much reeling from my own wedding, but that's another story i'll tell if anyone's curious.)

anyway. dresses. i go to a fitting. i stand there numbly while wearing the most godawful dress i'd ever seen, feeling like Garbage. i go home. i step in the door, i burst into tears. sobbing, on the couch, i tell him that something's not right. i can't wear a dress to this wedding.

i think that was when he realized i wasn't going to grow out of being nonbinary. we had a really long, brutal conversation, mostly about how i was probably going to want top surgery one day, that ultimately resulted in him ending our marriage.

"i can't make you be somebody you're not," he told me. "but you can't make me attracted to you."

that's right, folks! the thing that ended my marriage was my tits.

we'd sat through and endured many conversations in which i shared my feelings about the church, about christianity, about the patriarchy, about gender as a whole, but in the end, the thing he could not get his head around was a version of me that didn't have a chest.

i won't lie, that shit stung. the constant rejection of my gender expression had sort of eroded any romantic love i felt for him at that point, but he'd been my closest confidant for so long by that point that i really had to work through some shit about worthiness in the weeks after. it was just surreal to me that me With tits was good and worth being married to, but a hypothetical version of me with a flat chest was so repulsive that he'd rather end a marriage than endure it.

and like, i get being a boob guy (trust me), but damn.

p.s. some really interesting notes: he waited to have this conversation with me until literally the week after i received the first 5-figure portion of my book deal advance, which meant when we were settling affairs, it counted as "marital income" and he got half, and then he hired lawyers behind my back after we said we wouldn't do that.

in hindsight? maybe it was never about the tits at all. ;)

[butterflyinthewell]

If you go out and protest:

LEAVE YOUR PHONE AND SMART WATCH HOME. These devices can track your location. Discuss meeting places and stuff beforehand, preferably face to face or only by encrypted means.

DO NOT TAKE PHOTOS/VIDEOS, this can put people in danger.

Bring easy to transport snacks, water, any meds you need and first-aid kits.

If it’s very hot weather, bring drinks like Gatorade that replenish electrolytes.

Don’t forget sunscreen.

Wear nondescript clothes that don’t have giant logos or memorable images or patterns on them. This includes shoes and socks. Look as boring and plain as possible.

The same applies to your COVID mask, keep it plain or buy some you’ll only wear when protesting.

If you have identifiable piercings, take them out and put in a spacer if you can’t leave it out, or put in jewelry you can afford to discard afterward.

Cover up tattoos.

Take off your nail polish or paint your nails a neutral color. You don’t want somebody identifying you via your Hello Kitty nail art on Facebook.

If your hair is dyed an unnatural color, is very long or styled distinctly (ie locs, braids, fades, etc), find a way to cover your head and hide your hair.

Get cheap sunglasses and ONLY wear them to protests, nowhere else.

If you use mobility aids and they have distinct stickers, find temporary ways to cover them up. Remove spoke covers from wheelchair wheels or buy ones that only go on your wheels during protests and nowhere else.

The goal is to be as nondescript as possible and not stand out much from a crowd if some goofball forgets the no pictures/video rules.

Other advice:

Tear gas canisters are hot, you’ll need thick gloves if it’s necessary to handle one to throw it away from you or a group.

Make sure you or someone in your group is trained in first aid.

If you have a seizure disorder like epilepsy, make sure the people in your group know the right seizure first aid for the types of seizures you have. Make sure they know where your rescue meds are if they have to give them to you during an aura to stop it from progressing. Make sure there’s an escape route they can take you through after a seizure.

Diabetic people, make sure you or someone with you knows how to administer emergency insulin, sugar, or can adjust your pump if something happens to it.

Carry whatever tools you need to repair something like a wheelchair if it gets damaged.

Canes may be broken or damaged, so bring one you can afford to lose. (I know that may be very difficult!)

Blind long cane users should carry extra cane tips and perhaps even an extra folding cane in case the one you’re using is damaged or broken.

Make sure someone in your group that you trust can wrangle service animals and take care of them for you if you’re detained.

Autistic people with sensory issues, make sure any ear defenders and stim toys you bring are as plain and nondescript as possible. A black chewable necklace is going to blend in with black clothes. Try not to have toys that are bright colored if you can avoid it. Bring stim toys you don’t care about losing, because they might get lost.

If the cops come for any of you, ask “am I being detained?” and ask for a lawyer. After that, give them nothing. That means shut up!

[cosmoseinfeld]

How was the Sunny Dublin show?!!! Do you have any pictures?

How long was the macdennis segment? Was Glenn shaky on the macdennis "love affair" chat (saw a post on twitter) or was he just doing one of his Glenn bits like from the podcast where he acts like he's not into things before he's honest about it? Did they confirm Honey and Vinegar for s16 or were they just teasing the idea of it in future seasons? Were you able to see their expressions from your seat? (Sorry for being cringe and insane in your asks!)

hiii! sorry it took me so long to reply. I was kind of processing those days and also recovering from covid which i brought as a fun souvenir! (nw, it's all good) I can't possibly tell you how long the segment was but it def took up a good chunk of the show! i was sitting too far away to take good pictures or videos (nor did i want to yknow, kind of living in the moment) but i took this pic of the screen which was up for a satisfyingly long time

I honestly think glenn was just doing one of his "bits" because - imo - he's much more on our side when it comes to the meta level of the show just from how he is talking about dennis etc. I still love how bold rob was by just straight up saying macdennis is a love affair to some. at least, glenn then said to rob "love you, baby!" I remember meg saying it's one of her favourite dynamics but we already knew that. Oh, she also said that the impl*cation scene was put up there against her will and i agree. It's not a macdennis moment and I overall hate it (in parts because it is what dudebros cling to so desperately). I am amazed that they somehow managed to avoid talking about Mac and Dennis break up AGAIN by "letting the audience choose" (which is a fabricated thing because a hyped up audience will cheer and holler for anything) but i will say that Suburbs got a REALLY loud cheer. They played the montage from that and ofc the dinner scene with the "newsflash asshole" moment. Oh, we also had to watch glenn's naked ass on screen. Rob talked about shooting that scene and said how hard it was for him to keep up because glenn was bringing his whole talent to it and rob said he wasn't that good of an actor to keep up. glenn said he's sometimes concerned that there is this psychopathic side to him and that he needs to get that checked. They then played Mortgage Crisis but didn't really talk about it. BUT meg suggested that hugh honey & vic vinegar should make a comeback at some point and rob sort of agreed and so did the audience, so who knows! The segment ended with them playing the impl*cation scene instead of break up and meg saying mac and dennis keeping each other in check is one of the things she loves about that dynamic and that they follow their own specific set of rules.

Overall, it was a very fun show and I am happy I went. The mood was so great, on stage and in the audience. I couldn't see their expressions from up there but I did see rob pulling down his pants to show us his shamrock tattoo, so there's that image... I loved the video cameos by danny, artemis, the lawyer and even uncle jack. Glenn got drunk on stage to the point that rob felt the need to intervene when he got too annoying lmao. Glenn said rob gave him a shot of "tequila" backstage and it might have been the bit that tipped him over - he then got corrected because it was whisky of course (maybe he had flashbacks to the christmas special). They played family fight but it was sooo messy omg... never give buzzers to drunk man-children. Everybody celebrated kaitlin of course and it was... a special experience to hear her and glenn sing the tiny boy song live. Charlie sang a bunch of sunny songs. The one that got me most was "I like life at paddy's pub" of course, especially because the whole audience was singing along. They also had an inflatable tube guy on stage before the show started which I thought was hilarious and weirdly relaxing to watch... Oh, yes before the show started, they had a sunny playlist going on with all the classics like "the boys are back in town" and the ghostbusters song etc. During the intermission, they showed gag reels on screen. Hm what else... Not to burst the bubble, but they also talked about how they couldn't film s15 in Ireland because of covid restrictions, so the on locations shootings took place in california - movie magic! If I remember anything else that's of significance, I'll post a follow-up. I really hope they'll come back to europe soon because i'll def go again. It was so nice to meet other sunny fans IRL and hang out and have a good time together :) i am always amazed how a shared love for a show can bring people together... it's so wholesome. (and you could also sense their love for the show and each other and I think it's great for them to finally get such a direct feedback from the fans)

[vampirechatroom]

Okay, so I read your post with the protest tips for going to Palestine things and I have a question. My friend and I are going to our first march this weekend and on the Instagram post for the march, there were a bunch of people saying not to wear masks. Since it's outside I'm not worried about COVID but your post made it seem like there might be other reasons for wanting to wear a mask?

for fuck's sake please do not listen to anyone who tells you not to wear a mask to a protest. ideally you should be covering all of your identifiable features (cover tattoos, wear plain clothing that doesn't stand out unless you're going full black bloc, consider removing piercings if you can) but covering your face is like the absolute bare minimum. you almost definitely live in an authoritarian police state where dissenters are targeted for political activism. i can only speak for the US, but people here are being targeted in very real and serious ways, including being fired from jobs, sued for astronomical amounts of money, and imprisoned for engaging in pro-Palestine activity. people i love have been arrested for protesting. this movement has already been deeply infiltrated by cops and feds, and is rife with snitches and informants. let me be clear: the person next to you at a protest could be an undercover federal agent. anyone who tells you not to wear a mask to a protest is either a cop or a bad actor and you should never listen to them. mask up, bloc up, don't let yourself or your comrades be identified or singled out. we keep us safe.

[davnittbraes]

The Second Step - Chapter Ten

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5500 (a little much, I know, but it was either that or cut it off on a cliffhanger and I decided I’m torturing you guys enough with this ridiculously slow burn)

Warnings etc: anxiety, violence, descriptions of combat, mentions of slavery, two morons fumbling their way through a relationship, I’m playing fast and loose with Mando’a but it’s a fictional language spoken by a fictional culture in a fictional galaxy, how about we just roll with it

Notes: I’m posting this in a Covid fog so please let me know if I missed any warnings/tags and I’ll add them ASAP.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Nevarro is beautiful, in a barren sort of way.

Volcanic rocks are scattered across a wasteland that stretches as far as you can see, the ground a dark grey stone streaked with smooth waves of old magma trails. The sky is a tired, faded blue, horizon a sharp line broken by distant mountains. With the lack of greenery it should feel desolate, but you catch tiny movements out on the plains, creatures who have found a way to thrive in a world that barely provides for them.

The kid chirps happily from his pod, floating beside you. He’s been excited ever since Nevarro came into view through the transparisteel, ears perked and eyes bright. Obviously he’s been here before, maybe even knows the contacts Mando mentioned.

Mando.

Your stomach roils.

The last few hours had been full of nothing but blunt directions and strained silence. He had stopped at Dennogra, an uninhabited dwarf planet just off the hyperlane on the way from Junkfort Station to Nevarro. The two of you had worked together and tossed the bodies, then there was the jump back into hyperspace and the thorough cleaning of the hold to rid it of any evidence of the fight.

You had thrown yourself into each task, grateful for the distraction, the excuse that relieved the pressure to talk to him.

Because you have no idea what to say.

There’s too much in your head. It’s all a tangle of emotion, knotted thick and ever-turning, tendrils constantly slipping away before you can examine them.

How do you talk to him? Where do you even start?

Sorry for wreaking havoc on your ship and drawing attention you probably don’t want.

Oh hey, so about that time I had a complete mental breakdown and you had to talk me out of it like a child throwing a tantrum. Sorry about that.

Kinda weird that I tried to blame you for my own choice to follow you, huh? I don’t know what came over me.

Yeah. None of those options - even all of those - are quite enough.

Now there’s no more time to figure it out as he leads you down the ramp, toward the two people waiting on the ground.

One is an older human male with a kind smile but shrewd gaze. Interesting combination. He’s dressed like some sort of official or noble, a robe of heavy fabric with fine embroidery sweeping the rock beneath his boots.

The other is a woman, dark hair and fierce features, muscular build. Her gaze takes you in with practiced calculation, assessing. A soldier, must be.

The man steps forward. “Mando, good to see you again.” A quick, perfunctory shake then he’s moving around Mando to the pod, lifting the kid into his arms. “There’s my little guy, how are you? Has your dad been taking good care of you?” The kid babbles cheerfully, tips of his ears flicking, obviously excited to see the man. He glances at you, gaze curious. “I didn’t realize you had another addition to your crew.”

Mando introduces you, using your Bakuran name. He gestures to the man. “This is Greef Karga, Magistrate of Nevarro. And Cara Dune, Marshal.”

Karga offers you a quick smile, clearly more focused on the kid, a fact which both seem content with.

You accept Dune’s outstretched hand, glimpsing the small tattoo on her cheek - the Rebel Alliance symbol, just under the left eye.

An Alderaan tear.

A soldier and an Alderaanian - a deadly combination.

Take someone with combat training and blow up their entire planet until there’s nothing left of it but dust and rubble floating through empty space? You get a person like the woman currently strangling your hand in a ridiculously strong grip while pinning you in place with a gaze that says she’s faced worse than anything you could throw at her. And won.

Dune releases your hand, mouth curling up at the corner. “Anyone who can stand to travel with this buckethead is someone I’d like to get to know.”

Her easygoing tone soothes that raw ache in your muscles that you’ve been trying to ignore, calms the queasiness in your stomach. Yes, you can do this, you can pretend that the last few hours didn’t happen.

You make an effort to slip a gentle teasing lilt into your voice after hours of silence. “I’m looking forward to the break, honestly. Some days he talks so much I can barely get a word in.”

Dune chuckles, throwing a glance at the Mandalorian. “Quite the gossip, isn’t he?” She nods toward the city in the near distance. “Come on, we’ll head to Greef’s office and get caught up on Mando’s adventures.”

It’s a smallish city, the streets aren’t bustling with people even though it looks to be early in the planet’s day cycle by the position of the sun. There are a few groups and the odd straggler moving about, but there’s a general air of quiet hanging over the city, like sounds are being intentionally hushed. Some of the buildings seem to be under heavy repair - is that carbon scoring?

Oh. That explains things, a bit.

That thick silence, the lack of people in the streets - this is a city still dealing with the aftermath of a significant attack, it’s physical scars only a glimpse of the depth of damage done to its society.

Rumours of an attack on the Bounty Hunter’s Guild must be true.

You pass by an open door and catch the sound of children chattering, a few of them repeating number sequences as if by rote.

A school. Interesting.

Well, whatever happened, the people are returning to normal life, or at least trying to.

Karga leads you to an official-looking building, guiding you through the front door and into a room toward the back - an office, his own, most likely.

He hands the kid to Mando and takes a seat at the desk, motioning toward a nearby table and chairs. “Sit, sit, let’s catch up and then I have something to discuss with you, Mando, since you’re here.”

Dune takes one chair, leaving you and Mando the two right next to each other. Kriff. A strange, anxious energy is crawling through your body. You’re not sure if you want to be as close to him or as far away from him as possible.

No choice in the matter, not if you don’t want to seem rude to these people who are not-so-subtly watching you with curiosity.

Sliding into the empty seat, you sit back, appearing relaxed, even as your heartbeat ramps up when Mando sits next to you. The kid coos quietly, trying to squirm out of Mando’s arms, his tiny hands outstretched toward you. With a practiced coordination that comes from doing the same thing countless times, Mando passes the kid over to you.

A twinge of relief skitters along your thoughts, though it’s quickly swallowed up by that knot of frantic emotions. Some things haven’t changed between you, at least. He still trusts you with the kid.

“So how long have you two been together?”

Dune’s question literally startles you, the kid grunting as you squeeze him reflexively. Offering an apology pat on the back, you stumble over an answer. “Oh, we - we’re not - I’m -”

Mando’s soft, modulated words interrupt your embarrassing flounder. “The hyperdrive blew on the Crest. It’s patched, but it needs a full overhaul. The lock on the crew door has been tampered with and needs recoding. Can your mechanics handle it?”

Right, good idea, let’s just ignore the question altogether.

Karga shakes his head, smiling. “Always straight to business with you, Mando. Haven’t slowed down since you dropped bounty hunting, eh? Yes, I’m sure they can take it on. It will leave you grounded for a couple days, though.”

There’s a glint in his gaze - you don’t know him, but you’re pretty sure that look says he’s got plans for those couple days.

Mando obviously sees it too. “What have you got for me?”

“Well, since you’re here, I was hoping you could help us out with a little… pest problem.” Karga nods at Dune, who takes that as a cue, leaning her elbows on the table.

“Aqualish vagrants have set up in your old home in the sewers, using the tunnels as checkpoints to raid warehouses throughout the city. They’re amassing a decent stockpile of weapons and goods, my guess is they’re planning a coup to bring the city under their control. I’ve counted about thirty, though it’s been difficult to verify - they seem to have found entrances and passageways that aren’t on any map we have.”

You manage to keep your expression neutral. Mando lived here? Wait - Mando lived here in the sewers?

Mando’s finger taps thoughtfully on the table. “There are hidden rooms and corridors that were built by the covert.”

Karga sits back in his chair, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Do you think you could modify our maps to show them?”

“Yes. But once we clear out the Aqualish, I want claim to any Mandalorian property that might still be there.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have thought otherwise.” Karga chuckles at the skeptical tilt of Mando’s helmet. “I mean if there’s something of value, I would be more than happy to handle the auction on your behalf.”

“For a fee.”

“Well, yes, what kind of businessman do you take me for?”

Dune rolls her eyes. “Let’s talk about the plan of attack and leave negotiations until later. Once Mando makes the map modifications, we’ll have a better foundation for strategy. I’ve got a dozen new recruits who could probably guard the exits, but they’re too green to rely on in combat. Greef has to stay here to manage any blowback on the city, so it will probably just be you and me, Mando.”

She looks pointedly down at your blaster strapped to your thigh, one dark eyebrow quirked. “Unless you know how to use that blaster.”

You open your mouth to reply but Mando cuts you off.

“No.”

The sharp tone of the modulated voice drives right into that tangle of emotions you’re trying to ignore. Unspent energy makes your legs twitch under the table, and you take a deep breath, focus on trying to settle yourself before meeting the black visor’s gaze. “You’ll be significantly outnumbered. It doesn’t make sense for me to stay here when I can -”

“I said no.” His gloved hands curl into fists on the table as a dangerous stillness runs through his frame.

Anger unravels from the tangle in your thoughts and you don’t even bother to stop it. “You can ‘say’ whatever you want. This isn’t your mission. You don’t make the call on whether I’m in or not.”

Dune raises her hands, avoiding looking at either of you. Ok, no help from that angle. No problem. You can handle him on your own.

Mando shakes his head once. “We’ll talk about this later.”

You fire back. “I’ll insist on helping later, then.”

A thick chill settles over the room, pulls goosebumps down your arms. But you’re not giving in, you’re not letting him push you to the background, you are more than capable of doing this job and -

“Fine.” He stands abruptly, turning to Karga. “Show me the maps. I’ll make the modifications now and then we’ll move in.”

The space beside you is suddenly empty, Mando striding toward Karga’s desk where the magistrate is pulling up holos of what must be maps of the sewers.

Sighing, you look down at the kid, still nestled in your arms, big ears drooping just a bit at the tips. Yeah, I know kid. I didn’t like any of that either.

You got your way. So why does it feel like you lost a battle you didn’t even know you were fighting?

*****

The streets in this part of the city are empty, Dune’s recruits having cleared civilians just before you moved in. Two recruits are behind you, armed with blaster rifles and an obvious vague sense of duty to their people mixed with the need to prove themselves. Mando and Dune are in front, shoulders back and blasters at ready - as is yours, the grip warm in your hand.

That same hand the kid had held tight to when you had passed him over to Karga just an hour before, putting him under the magistrate’s watchful care for the time being.

The other recruits are scattered throughout the city, guarding sewer entrances and the hidden exits that Mando had marked on the maps. Blasters are all set to stun - no killing, if at all possible. The New Republic and Karga’s fair judgment intends to send the Aqualish to trial and likely imprisonment.

Dune crouches by the sewer entrance, pausing to listen for movement. After a minute she looks to you and Mando, and you both nod in acknowledgment.

Anticipation buzzes in your veins, pulling at some of that anxious energy. It feels good, doing something, focusing on something other than…

Mando steps past you without a glance, pulls the grate off the entrance and slips inside.

Frustration and hurt and a thousand other emotions flit through your mind, triggered by that one simple motion.

Your hand grips the blaster tight. Yeah. You need this.

Dune follows Mando and you move in close behind, ducking into a shadowy corridor. A faint voice coming from your left pricks at your ears, and you peer down the corridor in the direction it came from - there. A figure, walking away, it’s odd-shaped outline declaring it decidedly not human.

Dune sees it too, motioning for you to go left while she cocks her head to the right. During the strategy planning, you’d pitched splitting up, you and Dune together and Mando alone, sweeping through the sewers with a pincer movement to trap the Aqualish between you, ensuring none escaped.

You had played it off like Mando’s combat proficiency was worth both yours and Dune’s. It hurt less than waiting for him to suggest it.

As you follow Dune and feel the air move with a swirl of Mando’s cloak, indicating he’s striding away from you, your stomach turns at the memory of how he hadn’t even protested splitting up.

He doesn’t even want to be near me.

Pfassk, stop it.

Gritting your teeth, you focus on Dune’s form in front of you.

The two of you move quietly, muscles tensed to create as little noise as possible. The figure you’d seen disappears around a corner, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more, and the further into the sewers you get before you’re discovered, the better.

A sound echoes down the corridor from just ahead.

You and Dune freeze, blasters raised.

An Aqualish steps into the corridor, bulbous gaze instantly landing on you at the same time you train your blaster’s sight on it.

You squeeze the trigger and its body drops with a thud.

A group of voices cries out in alarm, garbled sounds of the Aqualish language bouncing off the stone walls.

Dune throws you a crooked smile. “Good shot.”

Something about her casual good humour is catching, and you match her smile. “You can get the next one.”

There’s a flurry of movement and four Aqualish round the corner, blasters raised.

Dune’s smile grows, dark gaze glittering. “I think there’ll be plenty to go around.”

*****

The mission takes about half an hour, not as long as you thought it would, all things considered. The Aqualish were obviously unprepared, scrambled to get together some kind of defense effort and failed miserably. Thanks to Mando’s map revisions, you and Dune found the hidden rooms and corridors easily, rooting out every last Aqualish with no issues - except for one.

“It’s fine, honestly. Barely even hurts.” You tug your jacket tighter to your body, turning your back away from Dune. “That last one snuck up on me, good thing he only had a knife and not a blaster. I’m more pissed about the hole in my favourite jacket.”

She clicks her tongue, letting her hand fall back to her side. “Should still get it checked out, we’ve got a decent medic among our recruits.”

Your lungs are tight, so tight it hurts to breathe, your heart pounds against your ribcage like it’s trying to break free.

It’s ok, she’s not going to touch you. 

Calm. Focus. Control.

Fixing a grateful smile on your face, you nod. “Thanks, but I’ll -”

“You’re hurt.”

The modulated voice cuts right through your attempt to stop the panic rising in the back of your throat. Mando is suddenly there, too close, a gloved hand reaching toward the wound on your back.

That tangle of emotion you’ve had since Junkfort Station unravels completely.

Adrenaline floods your system, ignites that unspent energy still vibrating through your body.

You snap.

“Don’t touch me.”

Your words fly out at him. In a split second you see his reaction, how his hand abruptly stops its journey across the space between you. How the tension that’s been visibly tight across his shoulders sharpens even more, as if your words had landed a physical blow across them.

Dank farrik. When will you stop hurting him?

No wonder he doesn’t want to be around me.

Guilt and shame bloom bitter on your tongue, burn in your throat, turn your stomach.

I can’t do this right now.

Spinning on your heel, you stride away without another word.

Get out of here. Off this planet. Away from -

The sound of bootsteps right behind you.

No. I can’t -

Your feet immediately pick up into a run.

Too late.

A gloved hand wraps around your arm and pulls, forcing you sideways, and you stumble into an empty room off the main corridor. Mando releases you as quickly as he grabbed you.

You whip around to face him, glaring anger and panic. “I said -”

“If you’re injured, you’re getting medical treatment.”

His voice is low with anger, a tone you’ve never heard before. It’s unsettling, shifting the chaotic swirl of emotion once again, and tears sting behind your eyes but you refuse to acknowledge them. “You can’t force me to see a medic.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

You roll your eyes, not caring that it’s a childish gesture. “Why are you?”

“Because I care about you.”

Oh.

The chaos of emotion shudders.

He’d never… there were moments sure but… 

He’d never said it before.

You blink through tears of confusion and guilt. “Why would you say that?”

He stills, entire frame tense. “What?”

He’s going to make you say it. Ok, you can do this. Then you can leave. “It’s fine, you don’t have to keep pretending. You don’t want me around anymore, after what happened.”

There’s pause, heavy silence, thick.

Then a sound of frustration through the modulator shatters it.

“Don’t want you... you’re the one who wanted to split up and go with Dune.” He takes a step toward you now, hand cutting through the air sharply, back toward the corridor. “You need to process what happened, I understand that, I’ve been giving you space. But you’re the one who insisted on joining this mission when you should have taken time to clear your mind.”

That comment stokes your anger, edges your voice with heat. “What in the crikking hells are you talking about?”

He’s suddenly right in front of you, filling your gaze, radiating that power and danger you’ve seen before and your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, a quiver of uncertainty running down your spine, and something else sparking between your thighs.

Not the time.

His voice hisses through the modulator. “You were compromised on Junkfort Station, you lost your focus. You don’t push through something like that. You have to take time to let your mind understand it. If you don’t, you risk making decisions that could get you hurt.” He takes another step forward, intent, moving into your space. “Which you did, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about it. You need to let someone look at it -”

Panic jolts you into action and you try to step around him but he swiftly blocks the entrance - damn those broad shoulders. “Get out of my way.”

“Stop.”

That one word blasts through your already-brittle resolve.

Realization so poignant it hurts steals the rest of the air from your lungs, grinds everything to a halt.

It’s not anger, in his voice.

It’s frustration, helplessness…

Despair.

With that one word, he’s pleading with you. Begging for you to just. Stop.

Stop trying to run from him. Stop shutting him out.

You look at him, a blur of silver, voice barely above a whisper, straining. “I can’t.”

A pause. “Why not?”

Pfassk.

It would be so much easier to just go, squeeze past him and get away, run and find somewhere new and start over.

Go back to the life you had before you met him and the kid.

And what life was that, exactly?

A life without companionship, without moments of laughter and quiet conversation and shared silence.

A life without little gestures of affection, without tiny clawed hands squeezing your fingers and large gloved ones smoothing over your skin.

A life without warmth, only the cold dark of memories that haunt your every step.

I don’t want to run from them anymore.

“From who?”

The question throws you off for a moment, until you realize you’d spoken out loud.

Panic skitters down your spine.

Hush, it’s ok. It’s just him.

Calm. Focus. Control.

Deep breath, blink back tears.

And move forward.

Lifting your gaze slowly, you stop at the black visor. “My secrets.”

The words hover between you, stretched thin.

He nods, once, slowly, a flash of silver in the dim light. “Then don’t.”

Laughter bursts out of your chest, bitter-tasting and dissonant. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I know it’s not.”

His tone is firm but reassuring. He’s telling the truth, you know that.

He’ll understand. He’s got secrets of his own.

Not secrets like this.

That swarm of anxiety - fear - grips tight to your heart, stops up your words, but you push them out anyway. “But what if you… I’m… pfassk, the things I’ve said to you, I was… I was cruel. I shouldn’t have said what happened on Junkfort Station was your fault, I chose to stay with you. It’s not your fault I… I was too scared to tell you why I can’t be seen there.”

The helmet tilts. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything.”

“Kriff. You say that but...” Your gaze drifts over anything but him. “This is really hard.”

There’s a soft shuffle of movement and then a hand appears in your line of vision - broad palm and long fingers and skin touched with the glow of sunlight despite it being so often encased in leather.

He doesn’t say anything, just waits. Hand outstretched in the space between you.

Before you can think about it, over-analyze and second-guess, you’re reaching up and sliding your fingers over his.

It’s instant, the flush of relief and reassurance. It seeps into those frayed edges and soothes the ache in your chest, releases the pull of emotion so you can breathe again.

His hand holds yours gently. Steady. Patient.

Your words come easier now. “I… trust you,”

Fingers squeeze lightly. “Thank you, tionas.”

Your heart flutters at the word, said with such genuine affection it morphs into an endearment.

No one spoke to you like that, before him.

And that’s why this is ok.

That’s why you’ll be ok.

Slipping your hand from his, you shrug your jacket off your shoulders, letting it gather at your elbows. The movement shifts the fabric of your shirt, and your skin stings in a stripe across your shoulderblade - it did cut you, not very deep from what you can tell.

But he can see for himself.

He wants to.

Because he cares about you.

Your breath is surprisingly steady as you start to unbutton your shirt, turning your back to him. A pause, a moment that last less than a heartbeat that you hold onto, not out of fear but out of recognition of its significance.

Then you pull the edges of your open shirt back over your shoulders, letting it pool loosely with your jacket.

The air swirls against your bare skin, cool, unfamiliar.

A movement behind you, his presence drawing into you.

Fingertips gently press the skin around the cut, checking how clean the cut is, how deep. The touch is no-nonsense, efficient.

They pause, linger, and you close your eyes, letting yourself feel it, those small points of warmth. Something you’ve so rarely felt in your lifetime, a tender touch, there.

Then they glide slowly down the curve of your shoulderblade, tracing one of the dozens of faint silvery lines crisscrossing your back haphazardly.

The slavers never laid their whips in any particular pattern.

Punishments were quick, bacta slapped on if they cut too deep - not from any sort of care for your well-being, just to keep their investment alive and free of infection.

You were never obedient enough to be a pleasure slave, so your physical appearance wasn’t a priority. They didn’t care if they marked you up.

They only cared of you got your work done.

If you were useful.

You startle as the fingers suddenly splay, curving over your shoulder, palm pressing against your skin. It’s warm and heavy and it feels so good tears flood your vision again and you squeeze your eyes shut against them -

Then he’s there, right behind you, framing your body, his free arm wrapping around your waist and holding you so tight his fingers dig into the softness just under your ribs, and the helmet dips down to rest on your other shoulder, cool and smooth, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his hand.

You should be anxious, worried about what he’s thinking, what he’s going to say. 

You should be afraid of what comes next.

But you’re not. There’s no room for any of that, in the space between your bodies.

It’s gone. That tangle of anger and fear and uncertainty, the unsettled energy coursing through your limbs. Squeezed out of you by the gentle pressure of his hand, resting over your deepest secret.

“It’s ok.” You say it so softly, letting your voice fall only around the two of you. “It’s ok, now. I don’t want to hide this from you anymore, and that’s ok.”

A tremor runs through him and you shush it away, lifting a hand to twine your fingers through the ones on your shoulder. They clutch at you, almost desperate.

He needs to hear this as much as you need to tell him.

So you do.

“I’ve hid it from everyone. I had to, I’m not legally freed. I escaped. That’s why I couldn’t be seen on Junkfort Station, it’s too close to the major slave markets and frequented by people who might recognize my face.” You huff a little humourless laugh. “I’ve been lucky, really, being able to avoid them as I have for so many years. Even my escape was pure luck - an equipment malfunction caused an explosion in the mine, sent everyone within a ten metre radius flying and I landed on a rock. Cracked my skull, right over where the tracking implant was. I hid during the chaos of the aftermath, dug the implant out and tossed it down a mine shaft. Then I disappeared.”

He’s so still behind you, unmoving, silent. You keep talking.

“I stowed away on a transport, got off-world, then another, then another. Eventually landed on some planet and figured out how to survive. Laid low until I fell in with Bril’s crew - you know that part already. Learned it was best to avoid making friends, too easy to track a single identity, so I just became different people, whatever suited where I was living. It wasn’t hard, I don’t know my birth name - if I even had one - and usually got a new name when I changed owners so I was used to it, anyway.”

A soft smile curves your lips. “But now I get to choose my name. Choose who I am. And I’m not a slave, born without freedom. I’m not some angry, self-destructive teenager sent to the Kessel mines because her owner couldn’t handle her anymore. I’m not a foolish, lost young woman trying to figure out what to do with a life she never thought she’d get. I’m me. Myself. Whoever that might be, I get to decide. No one else.”

It’s so quiet in the room. There’s no sounds even in the corridor - maybe Dune instructed the recruits to stay away from here while they retrieved the unconscious Aqualish. Should thank her regardless, she’s kept her distance, obviously knowing you and Mando have something to work out.

And how is that going, exactly?

He hasn’t spoken, hasn’t moved since you started talking. His hand still holds yours tightly on your shoulder, though its grip isn’t as desperate.

But there’s no anger or frustration - or disgust, something you were afraid of - in the way he holds you. If anything, he’s clinging to you like he needs it, like he’ll crumble if he lets you go.

Slowly, you tilt your head toward his helmet and press your cheek to the cool metal, words whispering over its curve. “I’ve never told anyone, ever. Just you. Because I trust you. And… I care about you, too.”

He moves then, shoulders hitching with a strangled breath. A single word rasps through the modulator.

“Ne’kotir.”

It’s an unfamiliar word - must be from the Mandalorian language. “What does it mean?”

His thumb strokes over the skin of your shoulder. “Undefeated.”

Your eyelids drift open - you forgot you had closed them in the first place - and you stare at the opposite wall.

Undefeated.

There were moments in your life where you certainly didn’t feel that way.

Even less than a day cycle ago, you’d looked at the proof of what you thought was your failure on the floor of the Razor Crest.

But it wasn’t.

It was evidence of your ability to survive.

Proof of your strength. That your past is not stronger than you.

Your little hum of surprise dusts across the surface of his helmet. “Yes. Ne’kotir.”

His arm on your waist squeezes tight, a deep breath shuddering through his frame. Then he’s stepping back, hands moving to pull your shirt and jacket up over your shoulders.

You catch the sound of footsteps coming toward you - oh, that’s why he started helping you dress again.

Dune appears in the doorway just as you finish straightening your jacket and Mando pulls on his gloves. Her gaze runs over you both but her expression remains neutral. “We’ve cleared out most of the bodies. And one of the recruits found a cache in a hidden room - it has some Mandalorian items.”

Mando shifts closer to you. “I’ll look at them later.”

Your heart flutters at his obvious desire to stay with you, and you’re tempted - the knowledge of what you just did is quickly catching up to you and there’s a tender spot in the centre of your chest, like you’d felt too much at once. But you know how much those items mean to him, and after the moment you just shared, the compassion he showed, you want to do the same for him.

Show him you care about him, too.

Smiling reassuringly, you gesture toward Dune. “Go. I’m fine, I’ll head back to the kid.” The black visor turns to you, and even though you can’t see his face you can sense the argument building. “Honestly. I could use some… time to process things.”

The helmet tilts in a way that says he knows exactly what you’re doing but he can’t argue with his own advice. Your smile turns playful despite yourself and he sighs.

“Fine. Get a room for the night. Rest.” He digs into one of his belt pouches and pulls out a comlink. Stepping close, he takes one of your hands and presses it into your palm. “I’ll come to you immediately.”

Nodding, you slip the comlink into your jacket pocket and open your mouth to say goodbye when he suddenly cups the back of your neck with a gloved hand and leans in, lightly tapping his forehead against yours.

He gently squeezes your neck, thumb curling along your nape. “Rest.”

You meet that hidden gaze behind the black visor. “I will, I promise. I’ll see you later.”

Another moment of black and silver filling your world and then he’s turning away, following Dune back into the corridor.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. That tender spot in your chest is growing, your muscles starting to ache with physical and emotional strain.

Rest, he said. Well, that actually sounds like a kriffing great idea.

*****

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

[ahleezeruinavt]

My Super Shitty Fast Food Experience (and just stuff I’ve noticed because of it)

If there’s one thing I’ve always despised after working my first job, it’s how fast food places (never worked retail so I can really only talk about fast food), don’t want you to be seen doing things that people just… do.

At my first job we weren’t allowed to do or be seen doing a lot of things (mainly when the GM was working). It was one of those drive thru only places, so nobody ever really saw the inside, but we did have windows to see stuff outside.

One of the big rules was that you couldn’t take you break or be seen relaxing in front of any of the windows. Not even taking a sip of your drink. Now remember how I said it was one of those Drive Thru only restaurants? Yeah. We didn’t have anywhere to really sit or “take a break” at, and since most of us were teenagers who’s parents dropped us off or biked, we couldn’t just go eat in our car. Additionally, that “no being seen relaxing / not working” rule applied to our breaks, so we couldn’t even go sit at the outside benches to eat. There was a very small side table which was normally crammed with drinks where you could eat, but there was still no place to actually sit and eat. There were no chairs or stools in that entire building, not even when we had a pregnant lady working. And if you were injured or felt dizzy, you had to sit *on the floor*. Which mind you, wasn’t very clean.

Next was the fact that we weren’t allowed to have any tattoos, unless they were super super small, like the size of your fingernail (though this rule seemed to be just specific to my location). There was a girl who ended up quitting simply because of the fact that she wanted a small cross tattoo on the inside of her forearm and the GM flat out told her that if she was going to do that, she would be fired.

But wait! There’s more! I didn’t mention this at the start but I started working around the time when COVID was “dying down” (I use that term loosely, but it was when a majority of people started unmasking in my state). I had asked the manager what the protocol was for being alerted about being exposed to COVID on your shift. He simply said there wasn’t one. You’d figure out if you caught it yourself. And, if you caught COVID you were still responsible for finding people to cover your shifts. Failure to do so could result in you being fired. So the first thing I had to do when I had gotten COVID was, instead of resting, sit at my phone for a good hour or so to text all my available coworkers about covering my shifts because I had COVID. There was even one time when I was just sick (not with COVID, just had some food poisoning and a fever), that I was forced to come in because I couldn’t find coverage. I was forced to work for about 3 hours while vomiting almost every 15 minutes. They had me taking orders right next to where food was. I expressed a discomfort about that, especially since I had already practically begged them to let me go home. Mind you, this wasn’t the first time this happened. One of my coworkers projectile vomited when coming out with food, and they just put the food in a new bag (the food itself was untouched but still kinda gross), and told her to go get cleaned up and continue serving food.

Workers comp was REPEATEDLY ignored and not filed unless you were one of the managers. I had developed pretty bad tendonitis and actually fractured one of my wrists (scooping ice as funny as it is), and I hadn’t really noticed anything was wrong until a day or two later. I got yelled at for not filing the same day and then the paper never got put in. The GM had also forced a girl, who thought her finger was broken, to finish up the last few hours of her shift serving food. As a side note, I tried staying on top of the GM and he kept waving his hand and telling me he’ll get it done.

Same GM also stole money from me which ended up taking basically all my tips and when I had said I think he forgot to adjust my total at the end of the day, he asked me if I was accusing him of something. I am GREAT with keeping track of money. There was no way I was specifically missing $74 (and some change) when that was the specific amount he took from me for a cash in cash out (a cash in cash out is- and this is how it was explained to me so sorry if I’m wrong- when they need to pay something for the store so they typically take money from the carhops and then take it off of our total we owe back to the store at the end of the night). So I was down $74 in TIPS because of this guy and he had the audacity to ask me if I was accusing him of stealing money from me. Which, to be fair, I kinda was, but that was because he basically had. So yeah, if you were, for some reason, short on cash at the end of the end of the day you had to pay it out of your tips (I think what we used was you had to have something like 10 five’s and 15 one’s or something like that, and then another thing for your changer).

Then there was politics in the workplace. And I don’t mean LGBTQ+ people working there, or non-white people working there. I mean the GM constantly tried to talk to people about his thoughts on gun laws and abortion and, not surprisingly, equal opportunity employment. I want you to picture this. Super skinny white guy with a small mustache, who’s kinda tall and openly talks about how he has been working at this company for 30 something years and is super proud of it while having the BIGGEST stick up his ass with “the customer is always right” attitude. Yeah. That was my GM. A coworker of mine wore a hat with a rainbow pin on it. Not even a flag iirc, just a rainbow, and she got told that “we don’t represent that here”. This was an employee who was very open about being queer and this manager harped on her for wearing a rainbow pin on her hat. The very same guy who made multiple of us uncomfortable because he discussed things like gun laws at work, and went into gruesome detail about how women get assaulted so they should like guns more. Also told two black coworkers that they looked similar despite being two entirely different builds and not even having any features in common except skin color. He really sucked at hiding his biases.

Then, when I finally quit I didn’t give notice. I was sick and tired of my requests to be off work to not be respected, the DISGUSTING working conditions, how stuff wasn’t cleaned properly, and how I’m pretty sure they were breaking some sort of health laws. I got a call from the manager and he said that he’ll say I left on good terms in case I ever wanted to come back. I hung up. I didn’t care. It wasn’t a shock that almost NOBODY who I worked with back then even works there now. Almost the entire staff changed after about 6-7 months. They’re still trying to advertise getting people’s teenagers to work there on almost every stall and the place is pretty much dead now.

Almost no one goes there and the reviews suck because people get food poisoning, not cold ice cream, or even are flat out ignored when they say they’re allergic to something. So yeah. I’m glad I quit because I would not want to be there anymore. But there are a few key things I noticed from this.

These places don’t want their workers to seem like actual human beings. You have to keep a smile on 24/7 and be nice even if the customer is being rude to you. You aren’t allowed to express who you are for the fact that a customer might find a rainbow pin offensive. People aren’t even allowed to see us off the clock in our uniforms waiting for our parents to pick us up. And the BIGGEST thing I learned is these places absolutely take advantages of teenagers who are just trying to earn some money. And they don’t listen to requests until a parent gets involved. They don’t even care if their workers are sick, just so long at the company is still making money.

You couldn’t even request certain days off unless your parents confirmed you couldn’t come in that day. Not to mention PTO was supposed to be a thing and… it wasn’t. Never got paid it. Never got that workers comp. All I have to say is fuck how “beginner jobs” (fast food and retail more specifically) treat their workers and how they allow their workers to be treated.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I think my daily chronic illness is cancelling out covid except for the coughing and the throat and the horrible tight chest, which is fun. While grimly attempting to ignore that, I caught up with Wolianger Week with probably my worst swing at the prompt list......... yet :)

Sorry, Galvin smilie as per my fc's rules for when I'm logged in as him.

=:{)>

Journey/Carrot

The knock resonated through the door to the Pendants chamber on the other side, and instantly set Galvin’s heart into a frantic patter, regret swirling up. He really didn’t know why he was doing this, he should go, he should –

Urianger opened the door, and didn’t look at all startled to see him.

“Was this foretold?” Galvin grumbled, off-kilter that Urianger wasn’t suffering like he was for this encounter.

“Thy footsteps are uncommonly distinct.”

Galvin looked down at his metal claw-toed shoes, the better for climbing trees and other such activities the Huntresses of Fanow had teased him mercilessly for not doing. It had been very much like being home having his sisters fuss over him, and his face still itched faintly from the tattoo they’d give him after the slaying of the Lightwarden. It was strange to think that only a few days had passed since then, that something as normal as this healing might be taking its usual pace in the background of the final steps of his long journey to save the First.

“Do not linger in the hallway – I bid thee enter.” Urianger stepped back, and Galvin felt drawn in almost magnetically as he followed him.

“So you’re rested up after that long swim,” he said, settling on the same sofa that Urianger did, knees almost touching.

Urianger rolled his eyes and deigned not to comment – even Alphinaud had teased him on the way back to the Crystarium, to Galvin’s delight and Urianger’s horror. “Full glad am I that all trace of white has gone from thy hair,” he said instead, quiet and serious and watching Galvin so earnestly. His hands were folded in his lap, knuckles tensed as if he were holding tight to something. When Galvin started to reach for his hands, he found his own engulfed in a flash, clutched tight. “Mine apologies resoundeth flatly to the magnitude of–”

“Oh, shush,” Galvin said quickly, fed up of hearing it once again, knowing it was eating away at Urianger far more than the adventurer who had already signed up enthusiastically for any reckless mission of salvation. He tipped his head flirtatiously, distractingly. “Do you like the new brown? It must remind you of our mutual friend.” Already he had a few pink hairs returning at the tips of his ears as his aether rebalanced and his hair returned to normal, but for now he carried a strong reminder of Ardbert with him.

“I like thee whatever colour thy hair may be… Though its lightening as you bore such vast aether… I admit to being quite frightened.” He lifted one hand to brush a strand of hair from Galvin’s face, and brought his hand back to stroke once more along his cheek, around the outline of his goatee on one side, along his jawline… “I know you came not here to seek another apology, and yet –”

If shushing him was not going to work, it had to be the carrot and not the stick. Galvin leaned in and kissed him to cease this line of thought. And sure enough Urianger’s lips moved from speech to kissing back with remarkable alacrity. In a moment Galvin had been pulled close, kneeling on the sofa to meet the height of the elezen sitting beside him, as they tangled hands in hair and sought the taste of each other’s lips.

When he pulled back for air, Galvin stroked thoughtless traced lines around the archon mark on Urianger’s cheek, down into the soft hair of his beard and back up, smiling blissfully down at him as he consumed the sight of his face at such close quarters. “It’s all over now. We may spend this night as we please, and all I wish for is you.”

Words seemed a distant concept to Urianger, who only breathed “Oh…” before pulling Galvin fully to kneel across his lap, and dragged him in for another kiss.

[chronicswitch]

Holy shit I’m getting a tattoo for the first time since the COVID pandemic broke out tomorrow!

Will I be able to pull off being normal during this entire 2+ hour session? Probably not, unfortunately, but I tip well so it hopefully will make up for any lack of social skills on my part

[satans-knitwear]

🦵🦵 ✨

Treat me ~ Tip me

[sapphixxx]

Mom subscribed to a maid service to come in occasionally to get things really clean cause she's getting older and having a hard time with all the dust and crouching and odd corners, and today was the first time they came and oh my God I was not even remotely prepared for how pretty and kind all of them were 🥺

[enjoyenglishclass]

English Lessons, Comedy, Stories and Documentaries. Amazing, Fantastic & Fun Stories

[trendingtattoo]

Is It Safe To Get A Tattoo During The COVID-19?

Covid-19 and Tattoo

No, it is not at all safe to get a tattoo during COVID–19 pandemic. Due to the coronavirus outbreak tattoo parlors are not operating. Many tattoo studios have already stopped operating in the country. Believe it or not, getting a tattoo during COVID–19 can be life threatening.

We all know that the coronavirus is spreading due coming in contact with the infected person. And we cannot figure out who is infected and who is not. Tattooing is an art which needs skin-to-skin contact between tattoo artists and their clients.

Tattoo studios are not even open for tattoo sessions and consultation. And that’s the only way out to handle the pandemic that is spreading severely day by day. Any mistake from your end can pose a severe health hazard to you and to your family members.

Complete shutdown is the need of an hour. It is important that each person of the nation adhere to the Government’s directives.

Many tattoo artists have already postponed their appointments for another six months and ore. Even some of the tattooists who already had appointments with their clients have canceled those appointments.

They have sent their clients a message announcing that their shop will be closed in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19 in the city.

It is the duty of every individual to adhere to the Government directives and avoid coming in contact with other people until the government succeeds in tackling the virus outbreak in the country. Not doing so can create harmful situations for you, your loved ones, and your friends.

If you think that this is the right time to get a tattoo because you are at home and you don’t have much work to do, then you are really mistaken. As an individual it is your duty to be responsible towards your and your family’s health and as a citizen of the nation it is mandatory that you follow the rules made by the central Government to prevent the spread of the coronavirus.

If you really want to make the best use of this time, then you can start gathering inspirations for your tattoo. You can utilize your time to search for a tattoo design for yourself. It will save your time and efforts that you will put in when you will finally go for your tattoo after the pandemic is over!

Getting a tattoo right now won’t be safe! So, keep the idea of getting a tattoo on hold until the coronavirus is tackled completely.

Stay Home, Stay Safe!!

[nitemvres]

Self Isolation Day 5 I have been exhausted today. Despite not working, I still like getting up early (8am) but I now spend a greater time in bed in the morning on my laptop and Switch. I laid in bed about 3 hours in the morning separated about 2 hours and 1 hour. I was watching videos and playing Pokemon till I decided to listen to horror stories and rest my eyes expecting to nap. I hate naps and thus very rarely nap. However I never did fall back asleep. Despite waking up early I maintain staying up till my eyes can’t stay open longer, gaming and messaging friends. I streamed 3 different times today, probably about 6 hours total as it lets me communicate verbally which isn’t as common now due to isolation. If you are looking for that, come watch me on Twitch play Call of Duty with friends or Shiny Hunt in Pokemon! i’m always active answering my chat! Twitch.tv?TLTHIRTEEN After unsuccessful shiny hunting and a lot of good gaming I did some snacking, more stretches to help my back and that was essentially my day. I always went back to listening to horror narrations much more often as I love horror and they’re always weirdly relaxing and interesting! If you’re interested message me for my recommendations! As always this isolation thing isn’t hard for me, and I’m always happy to help entertain or provide advice for others that are having a rough time! Message me, send asks, anons, talk to me on Twitch or message me on Kik at Nitemvre! Much love, stay safe and healthy Tip of the day! Balance your sleep out! I typically don’t sleep enough and am thinking I may need to sleep in a bit longer though this is my normal sleep schedule. It’s good to catch up on rest you need, little bits each night but don’t sleep the days away!

[bezzly]

tips for protestors.

igas my parents went to many protests when they were younger, and although i can’t go to any protests because i’m too young (in their eyes) i do have some tips from them.

note: trump HAS given the word for the national guard to use lethal force against protestors. i understand that it is hard to stay silent if there is a protest in your area, but there is a chance the bullets won’t be foam or rubber. stay safe, stay smart. please don’t become a statistic.

secondly, if you are in the san diego area, do NOT attend the protest that was advertised on facebook. it was created by white supremacists to target black youths.

cover any scars, tattoos, or distinct features you have. cops will use this to identify you, especially if you live in the area. they will take anything you may have done and attempt to arrest you by any means.

wear a face mask, bandana, or some other covering. this is not only because of covid-19, but it will make it harder for them to identify you.

wear clothes you wouldn’t normally wear. this is for the same reason. make sure not to wear those clothes in public until after the protests are over, that way they can’t identify you based on your outfit. also avoid jewelry and accessories.

bring a backpack. this will not only help carry the items you should bring, but it will also keep your hands free and make running easier when needed. make sure it is a real backpack, one that is on your back. and over the shoulder bag or satchel will make it harder to run.

bring plenty of water, a tourniquet (or, if possible, the items needed for one) a medical kit, an extra face covering, and milk. the water is important for 2 things: rinsing your eyes from tear gas and putting out the actual grenades. a tourniquet will be especially important for when the cops start using lethal force. do your research before using one, though, to avoid causing additional harm. the milk will help with your actual skin that will be burning from tear gas, but don’t put it in your eyes.

prepare to be tear gassed. if you sense things are getting tense, try to douse an extra face covering (like a scarf) in water. it will keep the gas from getting in your airways. wear goggles, like the ones you use when you swim. they stick to your face to keep the water from getting in, and will do the same with tear gas. cover as much of your head as possible, and tie up long hair. don’t wear makeup, because tear gas clings to it like it does your bodily fluids. also, if possible, avoid contacts. it can get stuck behind your contacts and that isn’t something you want. similarly, don’t rub your eyes, because the chemicals can get behind your eyes, which will open a whole new set of problems.

if and when you get gassed, stay calm. if you are able, find anyone on the ground and get them help. tear gas will settle low to the ground shortly after being fired and will make their afflictions worse. make sure to watch out for yourself and others, and get out of the area as quickly as possible.

there are two methods to put out tear gas. the first is by covering the capsule with a traffic cone, then pouring water through the hole until it goes out. make sure to wear gloves and don’t touch your face. the downside is that this takes a lot of water because this is not very accurate. the second method needs to be handled with extreme caution. only do this if you are wearing heat protective gloves. take the capsule and put it inside of a metal water bottle WHILE WEARING PROTECTIVE GLOVES. shake it until the fire inside the grenade goes out. it is very important that you have proper protection, especially with such close exposure to the gas. a gas mask is your safest bet.

another way to avoid identification is by putting a rock in your shoe. im unsure of how advanced the stride detection system is in the us, but during the hong kong protests, they would recognize protestors based on their walk. if you put a rock in your shoe, although it will be uncomfortable, it will help keep you anonymous.

use your privilege for good. if you are not a poc and are attending the protests, protect your poc counterparts. unfortunately, cops are statistically less likely to attack white protestors. (see the physical protesting of the quarantine which was led mostly by white people.) if things are getting tense between a cop and a poc protestor, step between them if you are comfortable.

identify undercover cops. undercover cops will deliberately cause mayhem in a peaceful protest to give reason for cops to attack. you can identify them by their shoes and their masks, as well as their attitudes. all cops, undercover or not, will almost always wear the same shoes because they have iron fillings that allow them to break people’s feet/hands/other bones when they have no other defense due to being undercover. they will also wear the same gas masks as the other cops. if you see a protestor put on one of these masks, you should leave because it means there will be tear gas deployed soon.

don’t bring any weapons that are illegal. this will give them probable cause to arrest you.

most importantly: stay safe. protect yourselves and others. if things get bad, run. they can’t catch everyone, and if they take more lives it will only fan the flame.

i will probably add more things as they come to me. i am a really small account but i hope this helps anyone. if you have any tips, comment and i’ll probably add them on here.