#how to straighten beard hair home remedies

[emyn-arnens]

Crowned with Lilies Fair

Belladonna & Goldberry | G | ~700 words | @three-sentence-ficathon | AO3

Belladonna peered at the trees around her, certain she had passed them before—yes, there was the gnarled, squat one with moss draping down like the tangled grey beard of an old man, and there was the slim, lissom one bent like dancing lady, and the tall, stately one tangled in her branches was her grave partner in their ageless dance. Belladonna sighed and turned in the opposite direction; she would not find her way out by taking paths that had already proven fruitless.

As she walked, worry niggled in her stomach that perhaps she had strayed deeper into the Old Forest than was wise. She had followed the forest path from the Buckland gate, but it had taken many twists and turns, and she was not certain now that she was on the same path anymore. Folk spoke of the strangeness of the forest, of its misleading paths and of how the trees danced when there was no wind, but she had paid the rumors little mind, for she was an accomplished adventurer and had gotten herself out of many scrapes by relying on her wits. She wondered now if she ought to have heeded the rumors.

The silence of the forest was suddenly broken by the unmistakable burble of running water, and Belladonna pressed forward, tripping over roots in her haste, for she had walked for many hours without water, having finished the last drops in her water flask while eating her lunch. The trees drew back, and Belladonna glimpsed the glint of sunlight upon water. As she neared, she saw it was a pool brimming with lilies and fed by a little waterfall trickling down from a cliff.

In the center of the pool stood a tall woman clad in a gown the color of green reeds; a crown of white water lilies circled her brow, and her hair like spun gold fell over her shoulders. “Come, traveller, and be refreshed, for the water is clear and cool and sweet to drink,” said the woman, her voice low and musical.

Belladonna stepped into the pool and bent to drink. Water lilies brushed against her ankles, bobbing with her movements. When she had drunk to her fill, she straightened and studied the woman. “Are you an Elf?” she asked, for she greatly wished to meet an Elf.

The woman laughed, and her laughter was like falling rain. “Nay, I am the River-daughter. Goldberry is my name, and I am a friend to all travellers.”

“Belladonna is mine. I’m afraid I have become lost in these woods.”

Goldberry smiled. “That is easily remedied, for I know all of the turns of the river and the paths that skirt its banks. But rest now; you have walked far, and you must be weary. When you are rested, I will lead you to the path you should follow. The paths the River-daughter takes do not go astray.”

“Thank you.” Belladonna dipped her head and curtsied as her mother had taught her. “That is very kind of you.” She watched the woman curiously. “Are there other River-daughters? I have never heard of any such people before.”

Goldberry bent to wash her arms in the water. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I know only of my mother, the River-woman. But I have not seen other rivers, for I do not leave the Withywindle.” She glanced up at Belladonna and beckoned to her. “Come, join me, and wash yourself clean of the dirt of travel. It is my washing day, for spring has come again and the lilies bloom in the waters of the Withywindle.”

Belladonna stepped deeper into the pool, lilies bobbing about her, and the sweat and dirt of her wandering washed from her. She took the River-daughter’s outstretched hand and they washed themselves clean amongst the lilies and danced upon the banks of the Withywindle in the sunlight, their laughter mingling like summer rain.

Belladonna returned home with her arms laden with white lilies, whose beauty lasted throughout the spring and summer. She told no one of where she had found them in the heart of the Old Forest, nor of the River-daughter who danced along the banks of the Withywindle. And if she had learned the secrets of the River-daughter and her mother, she spoke of them to none. But she sought ever for their sisters in the hidden river-dells and forgotten streams of the Shire.

[miraclehealthsecrets]

Benefits Of COCONUT OIL For HAIR | Coconut Oil Hair Treatment | Coconut Oil For Hair Benefits

coconut oil hair, coconut oil hair mask, coconut oil hair treatment, coconut oil hair benefits, coconut oil hair growth, coconut oil hair mask recipe, coconut oil hair spray, coconut oil hair products, coconut oil hair loss, coconut oil hair conditioner, coconut oil hair grease, coconut oil hair and scalp, coconut oil hair and skin, coconut oil hair after shower, coconut oil hair amazon, coconut oil hair at night, coconut oil hair ayurveda, coconut oil hair allergy reddit, coconut oil hair and scalp benefits, coconut oil hair and scalp conditioner, coconut oil hair application, avocado and coconut oil hair mask, aloe vera coconut oil hair mask, at home coconut oil hair mask, at home coconut oil hair treatment, amazon coconut oil hair, avocado oil vs coconut oil hair, aloe vera coconut oil hair growth

Watch The Video

Welcome To Miracle Health Secrets

Hope You are feeling GREAT and hope that this video helped you out to learn some new Health Secrets Today. 

We would be providing a New Health Secret Every SINGLE DAY, so make sure you subscribe to get the best health secrets everyday. 

Don’t forget to share this video to friends and families, You never know when the information that you share can be a MIRACLE for someone else’s life. 

Hope to see you tomorrow. 

Note:

Video For General Information Only - Not For Medical Advice

Links Provided Can Be Affiliate Links

#CoconutOil #Hair #CoconutOilBenefits 

****

Some of the Health Secrets We Discussed in this video are: 

coconut oil hair breakage, coconut oil hair bleach, coconut oil hair before shower, coconut oil hair before after, coconut oil hair before or after shower, coconut oil hair brush, coconut oil hair buildup, coconut oil hair before swimming, coconut oil hair benefits reddit, banana and coconut oil hair mask, benefits of coconut oil hair mask, best coconut oil hair mask, benefits of coconut oil hair, banana honey coconut oil hair mask, coconut oil hair cream, coconut oil hair care, coconut oil hair color, coconut oil hair conditioner recipe, coconut oil hair curly, coconut oil hair clippers, coconut oil hair conditioner blue magic, coconut oil hair color remover, coconut oil hair chemist warehouse, coconut oil hair dye, coconut oil hair detangler, coconut oil hair dandruff, coconut oil hair diy, coconut oil hair drug test, coconut oil hair deep conditioner, coconut oil hair dry, coconut oil hair directions, coconut oil hair damage, coconut oil hair daily, diy coconut oil hair mask, coconut hair oil 75ml, how long does coconut oil stay in hair

This Secret May Also Help The People Who Search The Following: 

how to oil hair with coconut oil, 90 ml coconut hair oil, coconut oil good for hair, coconut oil good for your hair, virgin coconut oil for hair, coconut oil for dandruff, coconut oil shampoo, coconut oil for dry scalp, coconut oil for beard, pure coconut oil for hair, aloe vera and coconut oil for hair, organic coconut oil for hair, coconut oil for scalp, putting coconut oil in hair, coconut oil for bleached hair, coconut oil for shiny hair, coconut oil for chlorine damaged hair, coconut oil on dyed hair, coconut oil remedies for hair growth, coconut oil for black hair, nourishing coconut oil, coconut oil for hair styling, coconut oil for frizzy hair, coconut oil and hair growth, coconut oil for wavy hair, benefits of coconut oil in your hair, coconut oil good for hair growth, best type of coconut oil for hair, extra virgin coconut oil for hair, best pure coconut oil for hair, coconut oil and hair, using coconut oil on hair, coconut oil for low porosity hair, coconut oil for facial hair, coconut oil for colored hair, coconut oil for oily hair, coconut oil for fine hair, coconut oil for straightening hair, coconut oil for baldness, coconut oil after shower hair, coconut oil in wet hair, coconut oil for matted hair, coconut oil after washing hair, coconut oil in hair after shower, coconut oil for hair in winter, coconut oil for hairline, coconut oil and henna powder, hibiscus and coconut oil for hair, coconut oil on hair overnights benefits, coconut oil for beard growth before and after, coconut oil treatments

[myscree]

4  Advantages of Automatic Hand Wash Dispenser

[tessiete]

"You’re burning up” for Obitine BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

FOR YOU? ANYTHING!!! But only if you like it. If you don’t like it, please immediately erase this from your memory so we can still be friends. Anyway, there’s meant to be some stuff in here about the fever of first love, and like passion and fire and stuff, but it’s also just them bitching at each other so....I TRIED.

I love you!

IT CANNOT HAPPEN TWICE

“You’re burning up.”

“Remove your hand from my face before I remove it from your person.”

“I only meant to say that we can rest,” he explains, watching as Master Jinn forges on ahead, clearing a path through thick brush. “If you need to.”

It is safer here, out in the wilds, than on the road, the stretch between Mircine and Kar’Marev known for kidnappings, hunters, and corpses, but Satine will not be bowed.

“We may if you need to,” she spits. “I am perfectly capable of continuing without breaking, though I would not begrudge any weakness of yours.”

He grits his teeth, and she holds his gaze, steady and fever bright, the heat of her presence grinding him into deference out of respect for her position, for his master, and for the basic tenets of the Code - a Code which he seems to remind himself of continuously these days. Certainly, he has become more familiar with the first precept than ever before. He is intimate friends with it, having meditated on it for hours with no great success. There is no emotion.

“Of course, your Grace,” he says. His bow is shallow and poorly done, the curve of his lips equally false, but she says nothing. “I was only trying to help.”

“Thank you, padawan,” she says, then turns and marches on.

He catches up with her at sundown, hours later, and her condition is not improved. She stumbles along behind Qui-Gon, head bent, eyes on every next step. Her breathing comes in ragged gasps, and Obi-Wan can’t help the worried glances he keeps throwing at Qui-Gon’s broad back. He frets at the strand of shared consciousness between them, like he frets at the hem of his sleeve, and when it’s finally gone dark, he approaches his master where she cannot hear them.

“She’s ill,” he says, with no attempt at a conciliatory preamble.

“I know,” says his master. “I had hoped we might reach Kar’Marev tonight, but it is later than I thought. And I dare not brave the open plains past dusk. Not like this.”

“Then we’ll rest for the night?”

“We will,” Qui-Gon says. “Though I fear it will not help us much.”

“Master?” He shuffles nearer, and Qui-Gon speaks even lower to be certain of their confidence.

“The duchess is ill,” he says. “And if her fever persists she shall not be able to continue tomorrow. If it breaks, she shall be too exhausted to proceed. Either way, our efforts will be in vain, and worse - foolish. We gain nothing by gaining ground on foot only to lose it in body.”

Obi-Wan glances behind him as the duchess stokes the embers of their fire, banked low so as not to draw attention. She coughs, and it sounds as though it catches on every ribs, rattling and severe.

“Is it so serious?” he asks. “We are at least a day’s walk from help in any direction. What if she gets worse?”

Qui-Gon huddles close, scratching at the edge of his beard. “There is a plant,” he says. “A weed, really, and so it should be in no short supply. If I can find it, we may make a tea of its leaves.”

“A local remedy,” says Obi-Wan, looking skeptical. “Will it cure her?”

“It might alleviate the worst of her symptoms.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Show it to me, master,” he says, closing his eyes to search out the gossamer impression of light and colour in the Force. But his master frowns, and holds him at arm’s length.

“No, Obi-Wan,” he says. “I shall search. You must stay here, and care for Satine.”

“What? But master, surely it is better that I go!”

“I know what I’m looking for, where to find it, and how much we need.”

“There are hunters on the prowl -”

“- And the only company worse than yours, should one find her here. Stay, padawan, and watch over her.”

She coughs again, and he throws a doubtful glance over his shoulder before applying to Qui-Gon once more.

“Master -?”

“Be kind,” he says. “And patient. Trust in the Force, and I shall be back soon.”

But Qui-Gon is not back soon, and the night grows cold and dark around them. The creakers in the grass go to bed, and the home world Mandalore hangs heavy in the sky until the clouds come in and shroud it from view. Obi-Wan smothers the fire with sand, the red heat of it glowing bright in the absence of planetlight. He worries it might draw the eye of any unsavory observers, and trusts that Qui-Gon will be able to navigate without it. He can feel him, far afield, illuminating the shadows like starlight falling softly over leaves, and moving father still.

“Do you think Master Jinn will return before dawn?”

Satine sounds miserable, her voice crackling in place of tinder. She clears her throat, and clutches her thin cloak more closely about her. 

“I hope so,” he replies. “Maybe sooner.”

“I had not thought reconnaissance something so eagerly done at night.”

They had decided between them it would be best to keep Qui-Gon’s purpose from the duchess. Qui-Gon had said that she was already struggling under the weight of so many expectations of infallibility that one breach might be enough to topple her. Obi-Wan had simply desired an evening free of insufferable debate. If Satine suspected either reason, she would be offended, so Obi-Wan shrugs, and unrolls his bedkit.

“Master Jinn felt it would be better if he used the cover of night to clear our path than simply hope we don’t stumble across some hive of villainy in the daylight.”

“And you agreed with him?” she says.

“I trust him,” he says, unflinching. “Master Jinn is very experienced in matters of this nature, and I trust him to lead us safely.”

“So long as the Force wills it,” she mutters. It is not his imagination that some bitterness sours the air, then, and he feels it twist against his spine, drawing him stiffly upright to counter her.

“Yes,” he says. “But you seem to be labouring under the presumption that trust in the Force is tantamount to resignation to our fate.”

“Isn’t it?” she demands. Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks flushed pink and raw.

“Isn’t pacifism?” he retorts. “Or would you contend that laying down arms in the face of violence and oppression a brave choice?”

A twig snaps in the distance, but Obi-Wan feels no danger stir in the Force. Foolish - for she scowls at him, baring her teeth like a feral strill on the hunt. 

“What do you know of bravery, padawan? You have always been at heel, always in the shelter of your Order, and your Temple, and your Master Jinn. You know nothing of fear.”

“And you know nothing of me,” he snaps. “But I would fight. I would sacrifice everything for what I believe is right. I would die for it.”

“And so would I.”

“I would kill for it,” he says, and she is silent. He feels his victory at hand, and her silence. his reward. Finally. “Don’t speak to me of bravery. You have fine ideals, and beautiful dreams, but I have seen the galaxy, and I know what it is to face villains who would destroy everything you love simply for the sake of seeing you suffer. I would not wish that on you, but your pacifism will not save you from it. I’m sorry, but I cannot see peace for your warrior kind.”

Satine sniffs. She coughs. He feels a sharp tug in his chest, looking at her already so weak and downtrodden by illness, and now battered by his own unruly emotions. But then she throws back her head. Her hair is lank, the lily-white gold of its strands turned dusty with neglect, but she is somehow regal still.

“We are not violent by nature,” she declares. “Our cultures, our traditions - there is more to Mandalore than bloodshed. And there is bravery in standing bared and open with nothing but peace, our shield between life and death. A blossom is just as noble as a blaster. More, for it thrives in harmony and gentleness. It lives, it grows, it seeds, and grows again. A blaster can only destroy. Would you have me wish that for my people?”

“I do not know your people.”

“Then do not speak for us,” she says. “I may not have seen the galaxy as you have, but I know Mandalore. Pacifism is not passivity. It is still the warrior’s way.”

Obi-Wan kicks out the end of his coarse bushcover, straightening the edges, and smoothing away bumps that rise up beneath the narrow mat. He says nothing as she coughs, not even when the next fit lasts for more than a minute. He only folds his rucksack so that his spare stockings and pants may act as a pillow, and cushion the edges of rations and various other instruments of use. He sits. He pulls off his boots, and aligns them neatly beside his bed. His stockings are next, and he lays them flat to dry in the open air of the forest. At last, the choking and sputtering behind him fade, and he lies down with his back to Satine.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Master Jinn?”

“No,” he says, closing his eyes. “And I wouldn’t advise you to, either, though I know nothing I say has any weight with you.”

“But what if he needs help?”

“Then I don’t suppose your being awake will have particular value there, seeing as you won’t lift a finger to defend him.”

He can hear as she surges to her feet, and kicks at the little rise of buried fire. Bits of sand and ash scatter at his back, but it is only a bluff.

“You’re insufferable,” she says. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” he assures her, pulling his coverlet up high, and nuzzling against his pack until it cradles his head just so. It is a warm night, and the earth still holds the heat of the day. The insects of Harswee have been until now a mannerly bunch, and Obi-Wan hopes that this resolution will last the night. He has already suffered enough. 

He waits until he hears Satine unroll her own kit, kick off her shoes, and lie down before he releases a deep breath, and relaxes into the Force.

When he wakes, it is still dark. The air has turned cold, and Qui-Gon has not returned. Instinctively, as though still a child in the creche, he reaches out to his master, first, worried that it is some disturbance there which has stirred him from his rest. But no. Qui-Gon still burns, an effulgent flicker of light somewhere out on the plains, and Obi-Wan feels a sense of comfort and reassurance pass over him like a zephyr of thought. The problem does not lie there.

Instead, he finds it lying six feet away on the other side of the smothered campfire.

Satine’s fever has gotten worse. She shivers on the ground so loudly her teeth chatter, and her shoulders shake. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her, the thin coverlet strained with the desperate desire to provide some heat. Obi-Wan kneels to press his hand to her brow, only to find her skin slick with sweat.

“Oh, Force, Satine,” he says, shaking her awake. She looks at him with glazed eyes, but her frown seems instinctive, for it falls into place immediately upon recognition. 

“I thought I said don’t touch me,” she says. There may be fire in her, but it is raging through her blood and her skin, and her words come out as thin as smoke.

“Your fever is worse,” he says. 

“I know,” she replies.

“You should have said.”

He hurries back to his kit, throwing aside the cover and tripping over his boots in his haste to reach his rucksack. The careful work of folding and primping forgotten as he pulls it apart to find a small canteen of water and a packet of electrolytes. He tears the packet with his teeth, and dumps its contents into the liquid, shaking it, before returning to Satine’s side. With all the gentleness of newborn things, he slips his hand beneath her neck and raises her to rest against his chest. She protests feebly, but she cannot fight him, and when he brings the water to her lips she drinks as bidden.

“Small sips,” he says, one arm wrapped around her back to brace her, the other steadying her hand on the canteen. “You must stay hydrated.”

She nods, but pushes the drink away.

“Satine -”

“I can’t,” she whispers. She wilts against him, her head tucking itself into the crook of his neck beneath his chin. Her breath is hot against his throat, her body hotter still where he can feel the warmth of her fever radiating through the thin layer of her clothes where they touch. He puts the canister on the ground, propped up in the dirt but still within reach. 

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “I’m so cold.”

“Alright,” he says, and he reaches forward to drag her coverlet from where it lies crumpled at her feet. “You’re alright.”

He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, and wraps her in his arms. She responds to his touch in a manner so differently than usual he can feel his heart stutter and stop in confusion. Burrowing deeper, she nuzzles her cheek against his chest, and folds her arms between them. 

“Hush,” he says, rubbing wide circles over her back, the friction of his palm against the cover doing little to soothe her tremors, but doing much to calm his own uncertainty. 

“Is Master Jinn returned yet?”

“He will soon,” he says, though Master Jinn is still distant and cool.

“Do you promise?” she asks. She has never asked for his word before, never solicited his opinion, or sought his comfort. He pulls back to look at her face, certain he is being mocked somehow. But her eyes are closed, and her face slack with exhaustion. She tilts her chin, until her throat is bared, and she waits for him to speak.

“I promise,” he says. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I trust you. Will you wake me when he does?”

“I promise,” he repeats, staggered by this turn she so easily concedes to.

“And will you stay with me til then?”

He tightens his arms around her, cradling her head, and holding her close so that she might be warmed by the heat of his own body.

“I promise,” he vows.

And in the dark, he waits, and he watches, and he holds her until the sun comes up.

[avengersassemble-fics]

What Used to Be

masterlist

previous part

word count 3.6k

an: there’s a little more fluff in here, any guesses as to where the dream had happened? hm or maybeeee who this mysterious man is?

part 03/??

The journey to Dantooine seemed like it took forever, to him maybe, but after landing the Crest and climbing back down the stairs, he was met with the image of the Child looking at you. More and more he found himself at your side. You hadn’t woken up since your eyes fluttered shut hours ago. He walked over and kneeled beside the cot he had placed you on, and reached out to your hand. He flipped your wrist over and pressed two of his fingers into your wrist.

He could feel your heart beating slowly, but it was there.

He looked over your face, and the Child cooed next to him, which made him tear his eyes from you. Mando rubbed the Child’s head with his gloved hand before using both to pick him up. He walked over to the pod Mando used to carry the Child in and placed him inside, moving the blankets to cushion it as much as he could. Mando turned back to look at you for a moment, and with the click of a button on his wrist, the pod closed and concealed the Child within it. Mando pressed another one so that the pod would follow his movements, and Mando pressed a button for the ramp to his ship to open.

Dantooine was a calm farmers planet. From what he could remember from his history lessons long ago, it was home to the original jedi council during the Old Republic. It was thought to be a holy ground for them, tales of padawans and serenity were often told about this planet. Mando exited the Razor Crest and it was just as he had imagined. The port he had landed in used to be a compound and was converted when the family line died out. Now, it was a small bustling port with different vendors littered around. Mando walked around, getting a lay of the land, and of course earning looks from strangers. His eyes landed on what looked to be a medical vendor, hopefully a full fledged doctor.

As he made his way over, he pulled the sample he stole and held it in his clenched hand. The man behind the counter looked up as he approached, and sat up a little straighter.

“A Mandalorian,” he scoffed, “didn’t know your kind was still around these parts.”

He chose to ignore that comment. 

“Can you tell me what this hypospray contains,” he said calmly. He extended his palm out, revealing what he was holding. The man looked down at the spray, and grumbled as he took it into his own hands.

He looked it over, but within seconds he was handing it back, “without the proper labelling, no I can’t.”

Mando looked at the hypospray, and then back to the man. What a waste of his time. He took the hypospray and put it back into his belt, and turned to walk away, but a voice stopped him.

“You can try going to the old temple, and see if one of the computers there can read the contents,” the man offered. Mando looked over his shoulder to peer at the man, and then moved on. The old jedi temple? Great. But if it held an answer to helping you, he would follow through with it.

There was only one way in and out of the compound, and Mando made his way over to it. There was a person who would open and close the gate, and the only words that exited their mouth was to be weary of the kath hounds. Mando paid no mind to it, and when he walked out into the grassy terrain, he looked around him. In the distance north of him, he could make out what seemed to be a building so he started in that direction.

The Child did change his life. He considered it to be a foundling, and that’s why he was helping to bring it back to its home. Encountering you was not part of his plan, but he couldn’t just leave you where he had found you. And now he couldn’t just let you die. The Child made him care about things he hadn’t necessarily done so in the past, not that he wasn’t a good man (he thought he was) but it was always just about business. Get the bounty puck, get the bounty captured, and then repeat the process. He met many people over the years, but none that made an impact like this. He walked towards the building in the distance, the pod floating beside him. With a click of a button on his wrist, he allowed the pod to open, so that the Child could look around. The area felt safe, despite the warning from the local of Katy hounds. Honestly, he was surprised there were any even left.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he had to step over the bones of what he could assume had been a predator's snack. The Child peaked over the edge, and its ears fell.

“I know, kid,” Mando commented, mostly to himself, “we’ll be there soon.”

The sun was high in the sky, so he wasn’t worried about encountering anything too dangerous. The pair walked through a path between two large mounds of grass. How the path was still visible, he didn’t know, but they trudged on. The building edged closer, and they were back to an opening before a bridge.

The bridge looked to lead to the obviously rundown building. A large tree had fallen into it, which left a large hole right through it. Suddenly he felt very uneasy about the place. He looked to the Child who was sitting back into the pod, not so curious anymore. Mando took a step towards the bridge, and another, careful of the surroundings.

It looked deserted, felt deserted, just gave off a very ominous vibe. Mando slid his amban rifle off his shoulder so he could hold it in his hands, crossing the bridge to the other side. Only one way went somewhere, and that was around the building. So, that was where they went. Pieces of concrete were broken from others, Mando stepped over them carefully and finally managed to get to a large set of blast doors. He put his rifle back on his shoulder and grabbed a knife from his belt. He would have to pry the pad off the wall to retire the door to open—

Just as his hand was about to start prying the pad off the wall, the doors began to slowly creak open. Mando quickly put his knife back and grabbed his rifle, aiming it into the darkness that was welcoming him. The door obviously hadn’t opened in a long time since it opened slower than a Hutt moved, but Mando was ready. The doors stopped enough that he could fit in, and he turned the light on on his helmet. Taking a careful step forward, he  and the pod entered the darkness. The hallway felt like it was swallowing them, the deeper they went the less he could make out.

It opened to a larger room, holding another tree, the only light that was let in was by the gaping hole in the wall because the fallen tree from outside. The circular room led in two different directions, and Mando chose the path closest to him. He still moved cautiously down that hallway, each step led closer and closer to light. When the hall reopened, he glanced around both sides just to make sure it was safe for him to enter.

Mando put his rifle back on his shoulder, but unlocked the hilt that held his blaster, just to be safe. He made his way into the room and it sloped downwards, where there were a number of chairs all sat in a semicircle. The Child peered through the pod curiously, and Mando looked around the room for some kind of terminal. Farther off into the darkness he could make one out, and he made his way over swiftly.

The terminal was ancient and he was surprised it turned on at all. But it blinked to life and he managed to get the terminal to open a slot for him to put the device into. It closed back up and beeped for a few moments, before displaying a word on the screen. Mando looked it over carefully, panic settling into his mind as he read it over.

There was no remedy.

He stumbled back a couple steps before he steadied himself. He breathed heavily as he tried to think. No, no, no, no this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t just die this way. He couldn’t let that happen!

A crash from the large room made Mando stop and pull out his blaster, pointing it in the direction the sound came from. In the distance he could see a figure, hooded and in the dark, but he could make it out just fine from there.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mando called out, his voice kept in an even tone.

“What do you seek from here,” the voice replied. Male. Definitely male. Human most likely.

Mando thought for a moment, but decided to answer, “I need a remedy for a friend of mine, they were poisoned it seems.”

The figure he could tell nodded to themselves. Mando edged forward a step, still pointing his blaster at the figure. They didn’t move, just watched Mando move closer into the sunlight that came in through the only window in the room. Mando stopped, planting his feet firmly, and the figure moved from behind the chairs, still shrouded in darkness.

“I can help you, Din Djarin,” the voice said.

Mando felt his arm lower for a moment. How did they know his name? Mando straightened his arm back to keep his blaster pointed at them.

“How do you know me,” he demanded.

The figure moved from around the chair, and into the sunlight. They were covered in dark grey robes, and carefully they moved the hood from off their head. He definitely did not recognize the man before him. He looked older, long brown hair that was pulled back behind him and a beard along his chin. The man offered him a smile.

“Because of that little one,” he said, offering his hand to the Child, who took a finger in his tiny hands. Mando lowered his blaster slightly, letting him continue, “we’ve been watching you both.”

“We,” Mando repeated, “what do you mean we?”

“Those of us who have passed long ago who are one with the Force now, connected together by the same thing, which connects this child to us as well.”

Mando blinked and the man removed his hand from the Child’s grip. If he was saying what he thought he was saying then that meant—

“Jedi,” Mando said low, and the man nodded. Mando never met a Jedi. But now he could see it. It made sense now.

“Come Din Djarin, let’s go and help your friend.”

—————

Your eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself laying on grass. The sun beamed down on your body, and the long grass blew in the wind. You slowly sat yourself up, your hair falling behind you and the sleeves of your dress touching the ground. You knew where you were, you could tell by the smell in the air, and the sound of water flowing downstream nearby.

Home.

You stood above the grass, looking all around you in a circle when you faced a man right in front of you. You took a step back, and he just smiled at you. He was dressed differently from your people, cream colored clothes and a dark brown robe over him, but his presence here didn’t startle you.

“Do I know you?” you asked him and he shook his head. You furrowed your brows a bit and he motioned for you to walk alongside him. Your feet didn’t give your brain enough time to think before they seemed to move on their own to walk next to him.

“Do you miss it here,” he asked you. His voice was warm and delicate, which made your shoulders relax.

“Everyday, but I’m here now,” you replied smiling to yourself.

“Not for too long,” he said and stopped moving, you stopped and turned to him, the hair blowing through your hair. He took your hands in his, making you face him fully, “I’m here to wake you, and leave you with a message.”

“A message..?”

He shook his head, and clapped your hands together under his, “There’s not much time, but you must help the Mandalorian with his mission. See to it that the Child makes it back home safely.”

You tried to open your mouth to speak, and he shook his head again, “You will know what to do, the Force will guide you.”

The Force?

You didn’t get a chance to ask him any questions, before he closed his eyes and you felt the air escape your lungs. You felt like you were suffocating and your body was about to hit the ground, when suddenly you gasped awake.

You were panting, shooting upwards on the cot you were on faster than a wombat trying to seek its shelter. You stared straight ahead when a pair of hands latched onto your arm, facing you to them. Your eyes met the Mandalorians helmet, and his hands stayed on your arms.

“You’re fine, you’re okay,” he told you as you caught your breath. You blinked at him as you tried to see your surroundings. As you calmed down, he released your arms, and you slowly moved one leg then another to hang off the edge of this cot. Mando stayed in his kneeled position, and you leaned forward to place your hands on your knees.

“What happened?” You grudgingly asked, using one hand to rub a sore spot on your neck. Honestly, you couldn’t remember anything from before you were out cold. The last thing you could wrap your mind around was being left in that room alone with some guy. Slavers. You’d make sure one day that that would never happen to anyone.

“You were taken to Zygerria,” he explained, and pulled something off his belt to hand to you. You took the water canteen and were quick to undo the lid, “I found you nearly passed out on the ground, someone had injected you with a deadly paralyzing toxin.”

You nodded, listening as he spoke and you took a sip of water from his canteen. Your throat felt dry and hoarse, but the water helped a bit. If anything, you felt drained, “You came for me.” You stated it more then asked, but you looked up to meet his visor. Mandos eyes locked with yours behind the helmet, you were staring straight at him, your eyes felt like they were staring into his soul. But they looked like they had a light in them, despite everything going on.

“Yes,” he said shortly and you smiled, looking down at your feet. Mando’s head tilted slightly, watching your reaction.

“Thank you,” you said to him, finally looking back at him. You had really meant it.

“Of course,” he replied, and you smiled for a moment before it fell, and your eyes looked behind him, “is something wrong?”

You hesitated, opening your mouth to speak but then closing it all together. You didn’t know if you could tell him what happened, and he could see that, “what is it?” He asked again.

You sighed and shook your head, “Before I..woke up, there was someone there with me. In my head, or, I don’t know just there with me.”

Mando nodded to ease you to continue and you shrugged your shoulders lightly, fidgeting with the lid of his canteen, “He told me that I had to help you.”

“Help me with what?” Mando pressed, his voice a little firmer. Not that he meant to because your head shot up, your gaze landing on him. You noticed, you definitely noticed. 

“With the Child, he said,” you studied him to see a reaction, and Mando felt himself lean backwards. You watched him stay there for a moment before he stood, and turned his back on you.

“No.”

“No?” You repeated, but he was walking away from you, to a ladder you could only guess lead to the cockpit. Your mouth fell open as you tried to form a sentence.

“Yes. No.” He repeated, and grabbed onto the ladder and pulled himself up a couple of steps.

“Wait, Mando—“ you started and pushed your legs to touch the floor. You noticed your boots had been removed and the thin socks were connecting with the cold metal. You stood quickly, too quickly really, and felt your body sway under the weight. You were about to grab onto something nearby when a large body held you up, a hand catching yours and another on your waist.

You were face to chest with him, and you finally noticed just how tall and big he was. Bigger than you at least. His hands felt gentle on your body and you could almost feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Of course as you looked up into his helmet, you couldn’t see anything, but a part of you wanted to believe he was looking you over to make sure you were okay. How did he got there that fast? You didn’t know.

Mando helped you sit back on the cot, his gloved hand ran up your arm as you eased down and the other left your waist at some point.

“You should rest,” he said, standing fully again and backing away. Before you could argue with him, he was faster up the ladder this time and disappeared. You frowned, and pulled yourself backwards until your back touched the metal wall of his ship.

Nice talk.

—————

You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep, but you woke up to a blanket over your body, and darkness. There was a faint light coming from what you could still only assume was the cockpit. Your body was still folded against the wall, and you had to slowly move your body to stand from the cot. You felt better, but didn’t want to push your luck. There was no heavy Mandalorian to help you this time.

You quietly walked over to the ladder, and gripped one of the bars in your hand. It was harder to pull yourself up then you had thought, but you did it. You were quiet in your movements, and each step you were met with more and more view into the cockpit. There, back to you, the Mandalorian sat in his chair, and next to him was a pod. You finally made it up all the steps, and were about to open your mouth to speak but was cut off.

“You’re awake,” he said over his shoulder. You pressed your lips together and took a step forward.

“Do you have eyes in the back of that helmet?”

“No, just heard you wake up,” he replied and it sounded like that was that. You nodded to yourself and took another step closer to the pod. Mando looked over his shoulder at you but he didn’t tell you to stop. Two tiny green hands outstretched to you, and you gasped quietly. Oh he was adorable. He was grasping at you and you carefully picked him up out of the pod and held him against your body. He cooed happily, and you let him grab one of your fingers.

You turned back to Mando and motioned to the chair closest to him, “May I?”

“Of course,” he replied, and you smiled to yourself as you sat close to him. Mando turned his chair to face you, and was met with the image of the Child playing with your hair. You were smiling down at him and Mando felt himself smile.

“Where are you taking him?” You asked, looking up from the Child and to Mando’s helmet. How you managed to lock your eyes with him every single time was beyond him.

“I don’t know, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” he said honestly. You nodded in understanding, and placed the Child in your lap.

“Please let me help you,” you whispered. You were poking at the Child, but looked back to Mando with a look in your eyes.

He was quiet. The reason why he had walked away earlier is because he didn’t feel as if bringing you along was such a good idea. Despite whatever that Jedi said, because he had said the same to him. When you repeated the words to him, something in him said no. The look on your face as he walked away made a part of him hate what he was doing. And then when he caught you, something had stirred inside him he hadn’t felt since before he was a foundling. Warm.

But then he was hesitant as he found himself under his gaze. Did he need the help? Probably. But the events of the last few days were what was fresh in his mind, and he didn’t know if he could keep not only the Child but you safe as well. But on the other hand, he knew you were a good shot.

“Okay,” he replied finally, and your eyes twinkled under the dark lights of his ship. You nearly beamed at him as you looked back to the Child. You didn’t respond, and he turned back in his chair to face the front. He hoped he had made the right decision.

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

tag list - if i missed you please message me to let me know or to be added!

@lillytalebi​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @heyitsjaybird​ @soitmightgetweird​ 

[bbrattan]

The Midnight Apothecary #2

Get the latest installments on Patreon.com/bbrattan.

Cara Cantrell felt sweat under her arms. She couldn’t let the Preserver of Rites find out about the Midnight Apothecary Shop, but it looked like they were going to pass by. She relaxed her grip on the wooden floorboards. 

Indeed, as she watched out the window, the woman with short brown hair swung up onto her mount and looked to the Preserver of Rites, who nodded and urged her own horse forward. She felt her body relax a little. 

Then, just as the other woman turned to motion the protectors behind her to follow, the door swung open, and Sharl was standing in the opening. The robe he wore hung down nearly  to his knees, even on his tall, thin frame. Behind Sharl, light leaked through the doorway.

“Cara?” 

She watched through the window as the brown-haired woman turned in her saddle and squinted at the window. 

“Shit.”

She turned to the man who had come to her door seeking sanctuary from some unknown threat. The stranger had blond hair cut shaggy around his face and falling just to the back of his neck and a short, blond beard. He wore traveling clothes, but they looked new—hardly dirty at all. The clothes were still so stiff she could hardly make out his build beneath them, though by his face, the man looked fairly young, maybe twenty, and he appeared to be trim. Briefly, she wished he had come here for her remedies. She’d have liked to see where his secret desires laid. 

Most noteworthy about the stranger right now, however, was that he also stared at the woman outside the window. Now she knew. This man had the Arcani after him, and this night was turning into a nightmare. To the stranger, she mouthed the words, Stay still.

She held up a hand to Sharl and stood. After she crossed from the corner to the doorway where Sharl stood, she shouted across the room, toward the main door. 

“A moment, please.”

She curled a finger at Sharl, beckoning, and he leaned down closer to her height. When Sharl was nearer, she whispered to him.

“Get the wanderer to the back.” She grabbed the collar of Sharl’s robe, making sure she had his attention. “Unseen.”

Sharl nodded, the long, fine hair hanging down in his face. Then she turned and stomped toward the counter, making sure her steps were as loud as possible. She called toward the door again. 

“A moment. I’m getting the lantern.”

As she lit the flame, she heard the door behind her snikt closed. That meant Sharl and the wanderer were in the back. She took in a breath and walked toward the door at the front, holding the robe closed in front of her. She pulled the key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and turned the knob, pulling it open. Then she poked her head out into the night for the second time tonight.

This time, she looked up directly at the Preserver of Rites. The woman was tall with long blond hair and a serious face. 

“I’m afraid the shop is closed in the evening. You’ll have to come back during the day.” She looked the Preserver of Rites up and down, making a show of taking in her religious cloak. “Rites Keeper.”

Though it wouldn’t have seemed possible, Preserver Falis stiffened further. 

“I am the Preserver of Rites.”

“Apologies. I didn’t know.”

Preserver Falis nearly choked on her words as she bent down toward Cara’s face. “You didn’t—know?” 

She shrugged. “I’m newly apprenticed here.”

“Then you should tell your master to train you properly—with respect for the order.” The Preserver of Rites straightened up again, as though her body locked itself in place on a hinge. “Never mind that now. I’m looking for someone. A man.” Preserver Falis held herself stiffly upright and looked down at her. “Have you seen anyone pass through?”

“Tonight? No.”

The Preserver of Rites glanced over her head, into the shop, now dimly lit by the lantern.

“I’ll come in and look around.”

She pressed her lips together, and her heart turned into a caged finch in her chest. No, this night was not going as she had planned. “As you wish.”

As she started to draw the door open, a familiar, thin voice called over to her. “Cara? What’s going on here?” She held the door, still only cracked, and let out a calm breath.

Erling Roper, the apothecary shop’s actual owner, trotted up to them. Erling was an older man with hair that had gone gray with streaks of white and receded inward from his temples. He had a mustache that matched the hair, white streaks and all. Erling was somewhat short for a human male but still taller than she, and thin with a bit of a potbelly. 

The daytime apothecary looked from her face in the doorway to the tall, blond, unmistakable figure standing on the porch. His eyes widened briefly as they met hers. Then Erling addressed himself to the Preserver of Rites.

“Preserver Falis. What an honor to have you at our shop. Is all well with you?”

“I don’t require anything from your shop, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come to enjoy my pleasant company.” Erling laughed, a high-pitched, wheeze of a sound. Most people found Erling’s laugh friendly and disarming.

Falis, however, did not seem to think so. The Preserver of Rites did not return his laughter. In fact, Falis sneered down her nose at Erling. That pissed her off. She was the only person immune to Erling’s ridiculous laughter, and she didn’t appreciate someone else treating him that way.

“I’m looking for a man who may have come through here.”

“Do you suspect he was in need of a remedy?”

“No. I suspect he was looking for a hideout.”

Erling’s eyes looked hurt. “And you think I’m hiding a fugitive in my shop?”

“There was a light within, and we heard a sound.”

Erling gestured to her, still standing within the half-open doorway. “Clearly, it was my apprentice.”

Falis turned toward her, eyes narrowed. “And what were you doing in the shop so late?”

She narrowed her own eyes. This woman clearly thought her younger than she was. She got that a lot from humans because of her size, and she didn’t like it. She opened her mouth to speak, but Erling interjected.

“She was fetching me the dandelion root. That’s why I came out here—to check what was keeping her.” Erling turned toward her. “Speaking of which, did you find it?”

“I’m sorry. I suppose I’ll have to go out and dig up some more tomorrow.” She gritted her teeth, and once she realized she was doing it, tried to turn the expression into a contrite smile.

Falis looked down at her, and she swore the Preserver’s sneer grew. Maybe it was the only kind of face the spiritual woman knew how to make. 

“You’re a halfling?”

She bit back the urge to respond with sarcasm. “Yes, I am.”

“Maybe they don’t teach you this in the woods, but it’s not appropriate to go out in the streets in your night robe.” 

She gritted her teeth together. Halflings weren’t woodland dwellers. Was this woman trying to make her lose her temper?

Falis turned back to Erling, a look of disgust on her face. “Apprentice, eh?”

Erling’s face reddened. She knew the daytime apothecary wasn’t the kind to take bait, though. Erling straightened up to his full height and grimaced. “Regardless of who she is, I really did need that dandelion root, and I’m afraid I must get back to my chambers. Please lock up the shop and accompany me back, Cara.”

She slid out the door, still holding her robe closed in one hand, and started to pull it closed.

Falis held up a hand to halt Erling’s retreat. “I need to look in there.”

“I’m sorry—digestive troubles—this really can’t wait. If you would like to purchase something from the shop, you’ll have to come back during the day, Mistress Preserver.”

Falis’s mouth dropped open, and she started to speak, but Erling insisted.

“I’m afraid I can’t let even you wander around the shop without any guidance to what the remedies do. It would be irresponsible of me.”

She turned the key in the lock as Erling spoke to Falis, and then she reached up to put a hand on his lower back and pretended to guide him back to his home. Erling spoke over his shoulder. 

“Thank you for the honor of your presence tonight, Holy One.”

For her part, she struggled not to look back at the apothecary shop. Who knew what was happening in there now that the wanderer had seen what was actually in the back room.

Once inside Erling’s house, the apothecary turned to her and raised one full, gray eyebrow. “Care to tell me what’s going on over there tonight?”

“Where’s your wine?”

“It must be bad. You never drink when you’re in session.” Erling reached into a low cupboard against the wall and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The apothecary poured some into each glass and handed one to her. She sipped at it and then took a long drink. 

“The man they’re looking for? He came by the shop tonight, seeking a place to stay.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t let strangers into the Midnight Apothecary Shop.” Erling sipped at his own wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.

She scrunched her face and pursed her lips. “No, I don’t. Except that the gods-be-damned Arcani showed up at the doorstep while I was trying to get him out the door.”

“Aww, I didn’t know you had a soft spot, Cara.”

“I don’t! I just like the Arcani less than I like the usual wanderer. I figure if he’s on the run from them, he’s probably my kind of person—or at least the kind of person I don’t mind helping out. I’m sure as hells not going to help out the Arcani.” She took another drink. “The gods-be-damned Preserver of Rites, Erling! He must be on the Arcani’s bad side if they’re sending her after him personally.”

Erling sighed and set his glass down on top of the cupboard. “Just because the man is at odds with a group we dislike doesn’t necessarily mean we can trust him.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, wine glass still in hand, and creeped over to Erling’s window. She looked through the gap in the curtains to see if the Arcani were still out there. “I know that. You think I’m not losing my head right now worrying what’s happening in my back chamber? I have no idea who this guy is or who he might talk to when he leaves.”

She downed the rest of the wine in one gulp. “This could be the end of the Midnight Apothecary.”

“Well, I certainly hope that’s not the case.” Erling took another sip. Half of what he poured remained in the glass still. “You know I’m counting on you sticking around for a while.”

She nodded and continued watching out the window. 

“I don’t understand everything you do in there, but I have to admit that you certainly have found a need in this little town. You provide something that a lot of people sorely desire but are afraid to seek out.”

She turned to Erling and smirked at him. “You mean you sorely have a desire for more money, and you’re afraid that you’ll lose the rent I pay you if my business goes under.”

“You know I like you for more than your money, Cara.” His jovial face spread in a grin. “But I do like the money. Another few years of The Midnight Apothecary Shop, and I can quit selling remedies here and retire in the city. Get an easy position teaching other people how to prepare the mixtures.”

She had to laugh. She admired Erling’s honesty, and she had to believe that was one of the things he had liked about her, as well. All in all, she couldn’t have asked for a better business partner. She didn’t want to get him in trouble with the Arcani, but he knew the risks when he made the agreement with her.

She closed the curtain and went to set the glass down on top of the cupboard. Outside, the Preserver of Rites and her entourage were gone.

“Do me a favor, Erling. Keep a watch. Let me know if the Arcani come back this way.”

Erling nodded. “Be careful, Cara. I’m invested in you.” He winked.

She tugged the gauzy robe tight across her body and cinched the knot in the belt tighter—not that the garment would do much to protect her from the wind. Then she opened Erling’s door and padded barefoot across the clover and chamomile between the two buildings. She breathed in the apple scent of the chamomile flowers and enjoyed a brief feeling of superiority, knowing that taller people couldn’t smell the sweet, low-growing plants as richly as she could.

She stepped up onto the porch, slid the key into the door, and once again entered the apothecary shop she shared with Erling. The front room where the tinctures, teas, and powders were kept was silent and dark. She made sure to close the door and lock it behind her, and then she dashed across the room to the door beside the apothecary counter.

Her heart sped up, and she took a breath and willed it to beat normally. She lifted her hand, and the loose opening of the robe slid down toward her elbow, revealing a small, brown cord wrapped around her wrist, and on the cord, an amulet.

As she held her wrist up to the door, the amulet glowed once and dimmed, unlocking the door. She turned the knob and tensed up, expecting the worst as she opened the door to the back of the shop—the place where she actually conducted the work of the Midnight Apothecary.

Follow the series on Patreon.

[mysikhwayoflife]

How to take care of our 5 Kakaars?

Waheguru Ji ka Khalsa, Waheguru ji ki Fateh,

Our Kakaars become a part of our lives after we get baptised. We never remove or part with them till our last breath.

Infact, when a singh or a kaur passes away, the kakaars are not removed from the body but are cremated along with it. This is the connection we share with the kakaars given to us by Guru Gobind Singh Sahib Ji Maharaj.

It’s been many years since I was given the daat of Amrit and I’ve learnt many valuable and important lessons over the years.

I’ll be sharing some of the lessons in this post today, on how to care and look after our kakaars. 

1. Kanga (Wooden Comb)

It happened with me a lot, that whenever my Kanga dropped on the ground, it just got broke almost every time. Therefore, I had to keep at least two extra new kanga’s in my closet, as if I break one, I can change it.  

So one day, a singh advised me to keep my kanga dipped in mustard oil for 3-4 weeks before using it. I tried it and it worked like magic.. I never broke a kanga in my life again...it’s been almost 3 years I’m using the same kanga..It has fallen many many times but never broke from anywhere as I’d kept it dipped for almost a month before I began to use it...It’s still intact and I love it..

You can wash your kanga when you wash your kesh..

Another useful tip, if you keep a thread tied to your kanga, you can roll the thread around your bun (joorah) before tying your dastaar. and the kanga won’t come off when you untie your dastaar.

2. Kara (Iron Bracelet)

Every summer, my kara would leave round marks of rust around my arm and spoil my shirts, esp the cuffs. I spoiled almost every shirt because of this but because I loved my kara more than the shirts, I never bothered to find a remedy to it..It continued for almost 2 years/summers.

I had friends who had got their sarab loh kara’s chromed, a coating that gives a shiny and bright silvery look to a metal & prevent it from rust..I preferred to stick to the original sarab loh that the Guru Sahib had given us.

I never got it chromed/buffed.

I rather figured out a way later to keep my Kara rust-free using an abrasive pad, Scoth brite (use it dry) and it worked well..I did it weekly or fortnightly throughout summers and just loved it. As I cleaned it, it made me love this beautiful kakaar even more and embrace it.

3. Kachera (underpants)

Kachera(s) are generally sold as a ready made garment at Samagam stalls and at some permanent shops. Like many other people who wear Kachera, I bought it from same stalls/shops for the first one and a half year after getting baptised..

I later figured there was something wrong.The draw string (naarah) pained daily, the fabric quality wasn’t up to the mark and the kacheras came in a fixed length..

In order to wear a baana (which I was just learning about back in 2012), the kachera length had to be longer..So I got my first kachera stitched in order to wear it under baana and later changed all my other regular kacheras to tailor made..

Transitioning to tailor made kacheras not only allowed me to choose the finest fabric (cotton), but let me have kacheras of varying lengths, which I could comfortably wear, under my trouser, denim, or baana. and the best part, it had super comfortable cotton drawstrings.

4. Kirpan (Sword)

Kirpan is a weapon given to us by Guru Sahib, and it is to be used for our own and someone else’s protection.

If I call it an article of faith, I would probably not mind carrying a one inch Kirpan instead.. and in my opinion, carrying a miniature kirpan would nullify the purpose of being a shashtardhari (armed soldier).

It’s my Kakaar and it has to be big enough to be usable...Loud n Clear..

With guru sahib’s kirpa, I got to wear many kirpans, a 9 inch taksali among one (it was my dream to have a taksali, I got it in 2013 which later got gifted). It was only when I started cleaning my kara, I thought to do sewa of my kirpan too.

I cleaned it using the same abrasive pad I used for my kara. It worked fine..I later switched to a smaller 6 inch kirpan, made of a rustless Spanish Muela blade and it never demanded any sewa.

However, I do wash my gatra, weekly, as it’s really important as part of personal hygiene..

5. Kesh (Unshorn Body Hair) 

We all ask for Kesh daan in our ardaas everyday..It’s a part of us.. It’s our identity, responsibility, one of the kakaars, our faith and our acceptance to follow Guru’s hukam.

Some caring tips for Head Kesh:-

Keep your Kesh clean by washing it weekly or as suitable

Oil them at least once a week..It’s necessary

Comb them twice a day

Wear a tidy dastaar. It’s good to change your dastaar twice a week

Keep your head covered at all times.

Drinking more milk, almonds, black chickpeas might prevent it from pre mature greying

Caring tips for beard Kesh:- 

Keep your beard oiled. I prefer almond oil. It’s nourishing and not smelly at all

Wash it with a soap or shampoo, daily or as it suits

Use a conditioner to keep it soft (Same applies for head kesh)

Use a brush to straighten it after applying oil

I don’t tie my beard so no idea about hair fixer or sprays.

A note: I agn bhent (burn) the fallen kesh. Tbh, It’s not something I’ve always done but I learnt over time that’s it’s important I respect my kesh so I started doing agn bhent..

Also, I carry a small box to store my fallen kesh whenever I travel..It helps in keeping my fallen kesh respectfully and bring it back home..

Thanks very much for reading..You are welcome to share your valuable feedback and lessons.

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist: Home Sweet Home (part 5)

The feels train never stops! Here’s part 5 of the translation!

Previous parts: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Part 5

—When had he fallen asleep?

Yukio was pretty sure he had dreamt of desperately calling out for his father. Then, for some reason, his brother showed up, and asked “Is he deliveries?”

Yukio didn’t have the faintest idea what that was supposed to mean, so he hadn’t said anything. And then his brother, looking troubled, had asked “Are you lonely cause Dad’s not here?” Yukio was, but he couldn’t answer because he didn’t want to seem like too much of a daddy’s boy on top of being a weakling. His brother had suddenly gotten a look of determination on his face, said “Just hang on, Yukio,” and run out of the room. His retreating back had looked smaller and smaller, until it was finally swallowed up by the darkness.

This time, Yukio woke up calling out for his brother.

“Ugh…mmm…”

When he opened his heavy eyelids, the first thing he saw was the yellowed ceiling. Then his sense of smell came back. The stench was still there; he winced at it, but the rest of him actually felt quite a bit better. His headache and sore throat were subsiding.

Yukio sat up groggily. The rag and pickled plums tumbled down onto his futon.

Nii-san’s plums and leeks didn’t actually work, did they? Yukio wondered, incredulous, as he untied the leek from his neck. He felt his own forehead and found to his astonishment that the fever had gone down.

Home remedies were nothing to sneer at—though he felt like he’d actually just gotten caught up in his brother’s reckless energy. Whoever said illness was all in your head wasn’t all wrong, it seemed.

How’s everyone else doing? Are they better too?

He straightened his glasses and looked over to his side. Out of the four futons next to him, Nagatomo’s, Kyoudou’s, and Izumi’s were all empty. Maruta was still fast asleep, complete with distressed-sounding snoring.

“?”

Maybe they had gone to the bathroom? Yukio got out of his futon and went out into the hallway, where he found the three of them standing around talking about something.

“Any luck?”

“No, he’s not over here either.”

“Geez, where could he have gone?”

Unlike Yukio, who felt all better, all three of them still looked pale. Occasionally they would hold their heads dejectedly, or hug the fronts of their cotton robes, or cough.

“What happened? You should all be sleeping,” Yukio ventured.

Three dead-tired faces turned towards him. Nagatomo, scratching his beard, answered awkwardly:

“Thing is, we can’t find Rin anywhere.”

“Nii-san?” Yukio furrowed his young brow. “He’s not here? Anywhere?”

“No.”

“Seriously, where’d he go?” Izumi grumbled nervously, scratching his spiky blond hair. “…Hopefully he just got bored of taking care of us and went off to play somewhere.”

…That’s not it. Yukio mentally shot down Izumi’s idea.

Rin would never abandon a mission from their father to go play. And there was no way he would leave all of them alone while they were sick and go off somewhere to play without even telling anyone. He must have left to do something important.

! What if…

The realization hit him.

That dream he’d had a while ago—what if it hadn’t been a dream, and his brother really had been asking if he was lonely?

What did he mean by “Just hang on”? He’s not trying to find Dad and bring him back, is he?

That would be bad.

The creases deepened on Yukio’s little forehead.

“What’s wrong, Yukio?” Nagatomo asked. “Are you hurting anywhere? You should get back to bed.”

Yukio stopped frowning and shook his head no. He even smiled shyly.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better, so I’m gonna look around for a bit. You should all get some rest yourselves.”

 Yukio went out with an umbrella and saw that it was snowing.

“It’s cold…”

Yukio shivered a little under his umbrella, even though he was wrapped in his reindeer-colored duffle coat.

He had wasted a lot of time convincing the three adults to let him go, and then they’d bundled him up as fat as a snowman, making sure he was completely protected. He looked pretty lame all puffed up with clothes, but there was no helping it.

“Nii-san, where did you go?”

As he picked his way through the least soggy parts of the sidewalk, Yukio was at a loss.

He wished he had twin telepathy, or empathic powers, or some sci-fi ability like that. He did try closing his eyes and going “Hmmmmm…” but it didn’t work. There was no sign at all.

Of course not, Yukio thought, embarrassed at himself for trying something so stupid.

He kept walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

“Oh? Why, is that Yuki-chan from Father Fujimoto’s place?”

An old woman from the neighborhood called out to him. He turned, and she smiled gently.

“Yes, it is you!”

She was a little old lady who came to morning mass at True Cross Church every day, with a gnarled oak walking stick and snow-white hair that she kept in a bun on top of her head. She always wore all black, and once when they were younger the twins had gotten all excited thinking that she might be a witch. Yukio remembered his brother telling him that the black leather handbag she always carried around was full of snakeskin and skulls and magic potions. It had sounded so true when he said it.

Of course, she wasn’t a witch at all, just a perfectly normal, nice old lady who called Yukio “Yuki-chan” and Rin “big brother.”

“H-Hello,” Yukio greeted her, blushing a little out of shyness. She returned the greeting, smiling with her sunken eyes. Then she said:

“I just saw your big brother wandering around by the river.” Yukio’s eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected information.

“The river? Where by the river was he?”

“Let’s see…I think…It was…Oh, that’s right. He was on the river bank on the other side of South Cross Bridge. He was crouched down with a plastic bag. I wonder what he was doing?”

“A plastic bag? Crouched down?” Yukio tilted his head in confusion. What could his brother have been doing in a place like that?

At any rate, the old lady had kindly told him where his brother was.

“Thank you very much.” Yukio bowed politely and headed for the riverbank.

When he got to the place she had mentioned, he looked all around but didn’t see anyone who looked like his brother. In fact, he didn’t see anyone at all by the river. The wind was bone-chillingly cold, maybe because he was so close to the water.

“…Did he already go somewhere else?”

And after I came all the way out here… Yukio’s shoulders fell in disappointment.

A thin layer of snow was collecting on the riverbank. The wild plants growing here and there had their heads bent down under the weight of the snow. But they were still trying their best to look towards heaven, standing noble and strong. They kind of reminded Yukio of his brother.

As he was gazing off towards the plants, Yukio suddenly remembered something.

Come to think of it…

When his dad made ojiya for him, he had filled it with wild herbs that he had picked from around here.

“Shepherd’s purse, water celery, and chickweed are chock full of vitamins and minerals, you know? They say good health starts with good nutrition! Also, they’re free. Bwahahaha!”

Yukio had sipped his ojiya while his father laughed cheerfully, and he still remembered how it tasted. The warmth of the ojiya spread through his stomach, which had felt shrunken after a day with no food. But more than anything, he was happy that his father had gone to so much back-breaking effort just for him, and it warmed his heart.

Why would Nii-san come here? And he was crouching down with a plastic bag…

Yukio stood in thought with his hand on his chin like an adult. Then he looked up suddenly.

“No way…”

What if, when Yukio was half-asleep, he’d said something like “I want some of Dad’s ojiya”?

If his brother had heard that…

Knowing him, he’d want to grant his little brother’s wish, whatever it took.

On a cold day like this…Without an umbrella or anything…

In his mind’s eye, he saw his brother determinedly searching for water celery and chickweed, brushing aside the layer of snow with his numb hands. Yukio narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. He was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t describe—sort of happy, sort of upset, sort of sad, sort of painful, sort of warm, and somehow sort of annoyed on top of all that.

“He’s so…stupid,” Yukio muttered, his voice tearful and his lips drawn tight.

He started to retrace his own steps, his slightly oversized boots moving much faster than before.

Now that he knew his brother’s true intentions, he had to get back home as soon as he could and pretend to sleep. He had to act surprised…

Wow, Nii-san! Did you make this?

Like that.

His brother would probably say “Well, maybe…” with that triumphant look on his face. He’d laugh and rub at the bottom of his nose.

Right, I have to tell everyone.

He’d tell them to pretend they hadn’t noticed Rin had left.

He’d tell them not to eat lunch just yet.

And he’d tell them to finish all of their ojiya, no matter how horrible it turned out to be.

I wish the snow would stop at least, he thought, looking up at the cloudy sky past his umbrella. That way his brother would be just a little bit less cold.

But the snow didn’t care what Yukio wanted; it just kept coming down.

Normally, he would have loved watching those big fluffy snowflakes, but he hated them today.

[go to part 6]