#have i mentioned that IT IS LITERALLY?? MY JOB??? TO HELP FOLKS DEAL WITH THIS KIND OF THING???? FOR THE LAST 6 YEARS?????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

murdockparker · 1 month

Text

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different.

This afternoon she walked in.

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor.

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl.

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?”

She knew his name.

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him.

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep.

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did.

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange.

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more.

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod.

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump.

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on.

“You seem tense,” she noticed.

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied.

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months.

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her.

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough.

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes.

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips.

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster.

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more.

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy.

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right?

She had called him pretty boy.

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins.

Maybe it was a date.

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished.

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later.

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated.

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around.

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed.

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for.

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands.

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well.

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town.

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing.

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted.

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets.

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big.

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk.

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood.

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington Imagines #okay fine twist my arm this is loosely based on the btr song of the same name #can't blame a girl for finding inspiration everywhere #does it have a plot? no #do I like pining and love-sick steve? yes

187 notes · View notes

amazeingartist · 7 months

Text

ok art’s not working rn but I still wanna share ghostsoap in my zombie au here too after seeing a bunch of the cod zombies stuff on twitter (I’m very autistic about zombie and since tumblr doesn’t really have a limit y’all will get more info. depression works hard, but autism works harder /j)

anyway tags for any of y’all who don’t vibe with this type of content

CW: zombies, so cannibalism, body horror (mutation based zombies they’re not the rotting kind), gore mentions, a little bit of death (not proper mcd)

(Will update if I’ve missed a tag)

AU CONTEXT:

SO the timeline is set far into the future of the zombie apocalypse where anything zombie related is very normal and apart of everyday life with relics and stories to the old word. Humanity is kinda thriving, there’s technology, medicine, secure food sources, water, functional cities & towns, overall the quality of life is pretty good, it’s a lil sci-fiy but not overly so.

The specific zombie strain to is a mutation based one, so there’s different zombie types and it affects all living things; herbivores are the only type of infected that’s non-aggressive unless provoked, while all carnivorous/predatory animals and certain omnivores are always hostile. Regardless of aggression, the disease can be easily transmitted via blood, bites, scratches, ingestion of contaminated products, and saliva depending on the zombie type. (fun fact—zombie cows are a thing and are used to deter attacks on living/healthy livestock)

GHOAP TIME

Anyway, world building context done (for now), Ghost & Soap are partners in “community security”, meaning they are to deal with threats to the livelihood/safety of people. They mostly work with towns since towns have less means to protect themselves—cities have fences and walls which are patrolled whereas towns outside a city might only have a simple fence and a couple zombie cows—from the hordes, raiders or particularly bothersome zombie types, while occasionally doing specialised work in the cities.

Ghost is blight, a humanoid zombie that has retained their human consciousness despite turning, while Soap is a delayed, a immune human who’s blood can used to suppress the affects of infection for via regular prescribed shots. Both are incredibly rare btw, (for both human and zombie) and are literally an ideal working pair because blight’s are highly infectious to the point where their drool is a safety hazard (one of the reasons they’re muzzled), but since Soap’s immune there’s no risk. Blight’s are also susceptible to unexpectedly going feral which Soap prevents by keeping Ghost in touch with his humanity; literally Soap’s lack of fear of Ghost is what helps them be a perfect working pair (that and Ghost genuinely enjoying Soap’s company).

So yeah, they patrol for raiders and redirect any wandering corpses frequently, with the occasionally job from some regular folk that’s too dangerous to do themselves—just all things that genuinely help people keep and feel safe.

Unfortunately for Soap, when dealing with zombies he can’t hide or mask himself as easy a regular person, a problem Ghost, unless displaying aggression, doesn’t have on account of being an actual zombie. Soap does abuse his immunity though, throwing himself in front of others to act as a meat shield and protect them from infection. Cause of that though his body is littered in scars of bite and scratch marks (zombies that harm Soap usually don’t exist for much longer if Ghost’s around)

As a blight, Ghost’s mutated state is centred around his human base but has elements of other zombie types; from pale and dark veiny skin, his jaw and throat are split into mandibles which Ghost needs a custom compression mask to be able talk, his arms have exposed boney spines/blades that are both retractable and can be used as projectiles (throwing knife equivalent), his nails are basically claws + are also somewhat retractable, and over certain parts of Ghost’s body are have bone plating as armour. It’s unclear the exact limit of Ghost’s capabilities as it’s near impossible to test him as he hates doctors/labs, (the reason he’ll consistently stepping into a lab for is for a blood transfusion/feed).

[^^^may be updated as I think more about this au]

Little Ghoap moment, but Soap will help Ghost in his upkeep of himself by either filing down Ghost’s claws or brushing the rows and rows of sharp teeth for any bits of stuck flesh and to keep an excess buildup of bacteria from forming. It’s literally something only Soap can do, both cause he’s immune and because Ghost only feels comfortable letting Soap help. It’s not an process that should take very long, but Soap is meticulously and after holding Ghost’s mandibles awkwardly extended for some time, he’ll gently massage the muscles; despite the horror it’s actually a pretty sweet gesture. When they’re off duty Soap’ll unlock Ghost’s muzzle and massage his face after being compressed for a couple days too (Soap’s one of the few people with the authority to unlock Ghost’s muzzle)

and uh yeah. I think that the end of that for now, hope it’s enjoyable. I’m combing my current hyperfixation with an idea/project I’ve been working on for years and is quite dear to me so there’s a lot of information to share lmao. feel free to ask any questions if there are any, preferably via the asks but comments are fine too (just I can tag asks together)

#ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #ghost x soap #cod mw22 #zombie #zombie au #zombie apocolypse au #body horror #implied cannibalism #implied mcd #gore mention #ghoap

71 notes · View notes

freetheshit-outofyou · 9 months

Note

You mention often that you are a "Former LEO", why did you quit?

There is a very long answer to your short question, but I will try to give you the short'ish answer. The "Us vs Them" mentality had started to set in after about 10 years on the road. I had stopped gearing up wondering who I was going to help in the next shift and started gearing up for a fight every shift. Day by day, I stated seeing those I was entrusted to help as a threat, all the time. Mainly becasue my day was 75% dealing with the bottom of the gene pool barrel, 10% feeling like I was really making a positive difference in my community, and 15% beating my head against paperwork. (The paperwork was still ALL by hand, often in triplicate with carbon paper.) At 15 years in I was able to change jobs and always thought I go back to being an LEO full time. But, deep down inside I knew I was never going back. I suffered a TBI in 2006 and that was the final nail in any thoughts of going back on the road, that choice was now out of my hands. I retired with 19 years 7 months as an LEO (20 years 4 days in total.) and I don't miss a single day on the road. You can only see so many murders, rapes, bank robbery's, auto fatalities, suicides, child abuse cases, spousal abuse cases, and a million other shitty things you can't scrub off your brain. And that is just the Garrison mission, we still have an entirely different combat mission. Clerical note: I did all my time as an LEO as a Military Policemen (Army). You will often, and I still do, hear civilian LEO's say "MP's are not real LEO's.", to those folks I say do the job. My arrest (Apprehension) authority was federally derived, just like any other federal LEO. There is literally no crime that happens in the country that will not happen on a military installation. We deal with not only our military communities that are often larger than the communities right outside the gate but all the civilians that enter our gates and the shit they drag in with them. I worked as a regular patrolmen, Shift Super, DST (Drug Suppression Team) member, SRT (Special Reaction Team) member, and the PSD (Personal Security Detachment) teams when they Army still had a school for it, now it seems to be mostly unit derived. As I stated above, murders, rapes, bank robbery's, auto fatalities, suicides, child abuse cases, spousal abuse cases all they way down to the shoplifting of candy. Let's not forget all the weekly predictable cases like bar fights starting on Thursdays and ending on Sundays, The domestics starting on Friday night and going into Monday morning. The bullshit Monday morning walk-in cases for minor-thefts or property damage that happened on the weekend but soldiers use them as an excuse to get out of PT. I could go on and on. Ok, Anon, this is the short answer to your question, the long full answer would fill volumes. I hate this movie quote but, it's not entirely wrong. The bulk of the people we deal with have been trained to be both technically and tactically proficient, trained in the use of multiple types of firearms and unarmed self-defenses, and in many cases trained to a degree that they possess skills that most LEO's outside the gate do not have interactions with. (God, the SF and Ranger and one loan Delta dude stories I could tell.) Also, a tip of the hat to all those MPI (Military Police Investigations) and CID (Criminal Investigations Division) folks, fuck, I'm glad I did not have to do your paperwork.

youtube

#me #leo #military police #us army

13 notes · View notes

thetoadcrow · 2 years

Text

Crow's Brain Rot Queer Podcast Recs! (part 1)

I know literally no one asked for this but since this blog started off as mostly podcast related posts I'm recommending some good gay shit for those who are still here for the pods 👌🏻

(p.s. only gonna be talking about the main relationships cuz if I talk about all the queer folks in each of these I'd be here a while)

Welcome To Night Vale

TWs: existential dread, depression, unreality, conspiracy theory, violence, death, mentions of guns, racism, cultural appropriation of Native Americans, government endorsed and police violence.

I'm pretty sure if you were on tumblr minimum since 2015 you know this one, but if you weren't/just didn't care about podcasts until now. WTNV is recorded in the style of a news radio broadcast located in a weird little town known as Night Vale. The host of the humble radio show is Cecil Gershwin Palmer (voiced by Cecil Baldwin), who is a confirmed gay man and who's love interest is known as Carlos the scientist (voiced by co-writer Jefferey Cranor and later by Lou Fernandez). Join Cecil as he talks about the strange everyday things that happen in Night Vale, just don't eat wheat or wheat by-products.

The Penumbra Podcast

TWs: child abuse and abusers, Sudden loud noises. ableist language, surgery and body horror, violence and threats of violence, death, mortality, and illness, claustrophobic and dark spaces, deception and gaslighting.

TPP has a main story line and other side stories that aren't related, the side stories are great but I'll only be talking about the main story today! TPP follows Privet Investigator Juno Steel (voiced by Joshua Ilon) as he arrests bad guys and takes up PI work in crime filled Hyperion City on Mars and works through his sad boy problems one questionable mission at a time. Juno Steel is bisexual and nonbinary and he uses he/him pronouns. his love interest is master thief for hire Peter Nuryeve (voiced by Noah Simes).

The Magnus Archives

TWs: this one has a lot so I'll link a list of the TWs for each ep here, I did not make the list.

TMA is one of my favorites and honestly I had to restrain myself to not put this one at the top and make a whole novel about why you should listen to it. head archivist Jonathan Sims (voiced by creator Jonathan Sims) reads and records statements made by people who have had experiences with monsters, the paranormal, and other things while dealing with his own little fucked up workplace, uncovering secrets and discovering the uncommon might be a little bit more common then he once thought, Jonathan is a bi-ace man and his love interest is his assistant Martin K. Blackwood (voiced by co-creator Alexander J. Newall) who is a gay man.

EOS10

TWs: child slavery, drug and alcohol addiction, ableism towards autistic individuals.

EOS10 is a si-fi comedy drama about, well, space doctors! (trust me its good) it follows Dr. Ryan Dalias (voiced by Justin McLachlan) who was sent to EOS10 to help Dr. Horace Urvidian (voiced by Dan Berry) become sober so that he would do his job better. Dr. Dalias is bisexual and I can't really describe his love interest(s) without spoilers (its not Dr. Urvidian) but they are male and gay.

85 notes · View notes

lennjamin-o7 · 1 year

Note

I have to tell you - I fricken loved this chapter

I loved the fae folk so much - I was already so excited with Schlatt and how he was written, and the Ranboo-esque cameo - but then Puffy and Fundy!??!?!? SPOILED! IM SPOILED I TELL YOU!

I literally was so excited reading this chapter that i stimmed so hard I *hurt* my *hands* XD

Also I love how the general consensus around the princess is “of course we need her! We love her!” And no one once was ever like “this is what she does that actually helps us”

Like, shes essentially an anti-depressant placebo

My dudes, she hates all of you - if the fae queen asked her “would you trade the lives of all the people here - so you could live” I have no doubt this girl would agree - fully knowing that deal doesnt even cover the lives of her family

Also, Fundy is hilarious - just him goin NOPE and Puffy saying what we’re all thinkin

The deal doesnt even cover the princess, cause the deal was for a good kid, and she sucks

Anyways… did I mention I loved this chapter? XD

ASDHJKL I'm so glad you liked it!!

I'm so glad I could provide some excellent fae folk characters lolol. Puffy and Schlatt and Fundy popped out of nowhere when I was writing. They weren't planned. And they turned out so well!

Please, protect your hands. Stim away but protect your wonderful hands. They are good hands.

You hit the nail on the head. No one is saying what Mielle actually contributes. Which makes her comments about Techno's achievements even more ridiculous lololol.

Mielle would never sacrifice herself for her people. She does not care what she can do for them, only what they can do for her. So you are spot on there.

Fundy was only RECENTLY promoted to this job and he is not going to be FIRED. Especially not when there is the threat of being actually set on fire. He is NOT DOING THAT.

You're right. The deal was for a good kid and she sucks. :)

I am so so so SO glad you liked this chapter.

#virgil-reblogs #ask and ye shall receive #sweeter than honey #lenn writes

11 notes · View notes

awanderingdeal · 2 years

Text

O'Knutzy Week - Day 6

We've nearly made it, folks! This one is the first chapter of a coffee shop AU I've had in the works for quite a while. Enjoy!

Prompt: Au || Timeskip

Rating: G (Although, the general story will eventually get M rated once I get around to actually writing it)

CW: Food, mentions of past general bigotry but nothing explicit

Credits: O'Knutzy belong to @lumosinlove and thank you to @oknutzyweek for organising all this.

Logan sighed, snatching his cap off his head and chucking it on the smooth expanse of oak in front of him, finding a small satisfaction in the quiet thud. He buried his hands into his hair, palms pressing into his eyes as he leaned his elbows on the counter. He allowed himself another groan, the sound coming from deep within his chest, before tipping his head to the side to glance at James. "What am I going to do Potts?"

"You'll find someone," James said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Logan wished he could channel the unwavering confidence.

"I guess so," Logan grumbled, "How long is it going to take to find someone who can bake to the same quality as Severus, and isn't -"

From the other side of the counter, Finn smirked, "Isn't a racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist bigot ang general all round asshole?"

"Exactly," Logan sighed again, turning to the coffee machine for a much-needed hit of caffeine. "You sure you can't bake, Potts?"

"Not if you don't want the department of health knocking on your door within the week," a reply came, but the voice was decidedly different to the one he had been expecting.

"Merde!" Logan threw a glance over his shoulder, thankful the many years of working chaotic lunch rushes had led to a steady hand, otherwise the grounds he had just packed down would be painting the floor. "When did you get here, Evans? Warn a guy, will you?"

Lily leaned over the counter to accept James' kiss, muttering a hello against his lips and letting James pluck the reusable coffee cup from her hand before acknowledging Logan."You're not usually so jumpy Tremblay. Something going on?"

"You are strangely perceptive," Logan pursed his lips.

"You literally just nearly threw coffee all over the place," Finn pointed out, plucking Logan's hat off his head and placing it atop his own, toying with the strands of his red hair that poked out the sides with a satisfied smile.

"Long story short," Logan said, ignoring the way his heart seemed to flutter at the small dimples that had formed on Finn’s cheeks. He was too stressed to deal with that right now. "Severus turned out to be an asshole and now I need a new baker."

Lily barked a laugh. "Alright then. Firstly, I'm gonna need the long story. Second, I told you that guy gave me the creeps.” She shuddered, before clapping her hands together decisively. “But this is great!”

Logan scoffed. “Sure, Lily. C’est fabuleux.”

"No, no. You don't understand. I was going to ask if you had any jobs going for my friend and he'd be perfect for this?" Lily explained, smiling gratefully at James as he handed her cup back, now full of her usual hazelnut latte. “Thanks, love.”

"He's a qualified baker?" Logan asked. Maybe there was a God.

"Not exactly."

"Come on Evans. You know I'd love to help you out, but I don't really have time for a learning curve here."

"He's really good, Logan. Been baking since he was tiny." Lily set the travel mug down on the desk and looked Logan square on. Stubborn green eyes met stubborn green eyes. "Just give him an interview. You won't regret it."

Logan heaved in a long breath, tapping at the till until it displayed the morning's figures. Even without their normal selection, it hadn't been too bad. He just wasn't sure how long James' charm was going to be enough to keep his customers happy. The breakfast crowd cared less about the atmosphere and more about, well, breakfast. As dispicable a human as Severus was, Logan had to admit he did make a good pastry. "D'accord," he sighed. "He really can bake?"

"I can confirm," James grinned.

"Isn't a racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist bigot?" Finn shut his notebook, twirling his drawing pencil between his fingers as he looked up.

"Yes, because I regularly befriend racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist bigots. They're my favourite," Lily drawled.

"Just checking," Finn shrugged.

Logan shook his head at the two of them, grabbing one of his business cards and sliding it over to Lily, "Tell your friend to give me a call or to just come in. I'd be looking for him to start as soon as possible."

“Awesome,” Lily nodded, tucking the card into the side pocket of her backpack. “He’s great, I promise.

"We'll see." It was too soon for Logan to get excited just yet, but he could already feel his mood improving. There was a lot to be said for hope and a good coffee. "But if this works out Evans, I will love you forever. And you can have coffee in the house."

"Great," Lily sang, resting her steaming travel mug on her palm as if presenting it to Logan.

"Is my love not enough for you?" Logan retorted, looking up at the tinny bell of the door opening. Two teenagers dressed in the local private school's uniform walked in, laden with oversized backpacks and talking animatedly. He hadn't realised it was that time already. "Besides, you would actually be getting it free now, as opposed to you know James just giving it away."

"Hey, I get free coffee on shift!" James argued.

"Operative word: you," Logan scoffed.

"And by extension, Lily."

“Take your fiance home, Evans,” Logan rolled his eyes, shoving James lightly in the shoulder, but he smiled at Lily. There was always a shadow under her eyes at the moment, overworked and trying to prove herself at her new pharmacy job. James always smiled the biggest when he talked about Lily. In Logan's opinion, anybody that made his friends that happy deserved free coffee.

The antique clock on the wall squawked loudly, then again and again and again. Logan hated the thing, but Finn had found it at a garage sale they’d been at for five bucks and fallen in love, so on the wall it went. Like clockwork, Thomas Walker jogged in, still clad in his red and gold (the local college’s colours) tracksuit. “Storeroom is mine for 5 minutes, nobody enters unless you want to see all this,” he announced with a grin, the same way he did each shift.

Logan didn’t really have time to think about the predicament over the next few hours. He and Thomas worked seamlessly around one another until the evening rush faded. Thankfully, it was a Wednesday which meant study night. After 6pm, it was mostly students requesting their free coffee refills, and it was quiet. He could get some ordering done.

“Welcome to La Ruche, what can I get you today?” Thomas reeled off his usual greeting. Logan hadn’t heard the door go.

“Oh, hey." The accent wasn’t local, but he could only place it as somewhere ‘in the south’. “I was looking for a Logan Tremblay?”

Pushing himself up from where he was squatting to count boxes of sugar sachets, Logan already had his hand outstretched. “Oui, that’s -” he blinked at the man standing in front of him. Blinked up at would have been more accurate, because he was tall. Angelic wouldn’t have been too much of an exaggeration to describe him. “I’m Logan.”

“Hi, I’m Leo. Leo Knut.”

#sweater weather #lumosinlove #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #cw: food #rating: g #o'knutzy week 2022 #coffee shop au #vaincre #coast to coast

44 notes · View notes

massivemonsters-giantguts · 1 year

Note

Hey, hey psst, you should talk about those trolls/pokemon/slimes you mentioned! Give Us Those Gals

Okay I put in a LOT of words to this because I’ve got a lot of girls but!

I’ve got a big blabbing blurb about characters from each of those groups underneath this so! I hope y’all enjoy

Gladia Entren!

Gladia Entren is my obligatory big bod purpleblood lady! She’s trying to put the whole “murderous clown” thing behind her, and is just trying to prove that she’s NOT a big scary clown lady who might eat you. Which, uh, no! She totally has not eaten anyone don’t worry <:0).

She’s around 13’08” tall, she’s looks round and soft and she IS but she’s also built like a shit brickhouse so Gladia comes off as looking a bit comically round when she’s covering up but she could 1000% pick you and the couch you’re sitting on up with ease. She’s very snuggable all in all, but the fact that she’s got practically got tusks and fangs with how her teeth stick out tends to make her look more intimidating.

She’s also rather accident prone at times to the point where it’s kind of slapstick-y. Like, bonking her head when she’s trying to move around, having trouble squeezing through doors, sometimes tripping onto people and burying them in clown blubber… it’s kinda rough for her.

Still, Gladia loves people and especially loves when folks laugh at her jokes and the silly but heartfelt things that she does. She’s the best clown mom friend you could ask for!

I’m working on her typing quirk, Classpect, sign, etc. still but hopefully she’ll! Be a good enough big honking bud once I’m done with her

Blorp the Goodra

She’s my large, heavy goodra lady! A bit spoiled from when she’s was just a silly Sliggoo gal who couldn’t see too well and kept nearly eating everything that was edible (which is a lot when you’re a slime dragon), all that weight and pampering carried on over to her Goodra state! Now she’s this big, pushy slimy dragon woman who doesn’t tend to realize that “no means no” and oozes or brute forces her way into getting what she wants, because it’s hard to fight a cute pseudo-legendary gal!

She’s about 7’07 (usually), she’s kinda stacked all over with her fat gut being very very prominent and she’s a pretty cheerful gal most of the time! The only problem is that, like I said, she’s also the type of gal who’ll take things from you without asking and leave you covered in slime once she’s done with you. She might ALSO get a bit vorny and voracious at times; but it’s nothing to worry about! As long as you can feed her that is…

If you ever met Blorp, just be prepared to get gooed and to give up your valuables/food to the big fat slime dragon lady.

(Also if she ever decided she wants to “keep” you, be prepared to get smothered in love and stuffed silly.

Unnamed DJ slime girl!

She has no name yet! But the idea of her popped into my head while I was talking about my buddy with slimes. She’s got a pearish shape, she’s kinda chonky with a big gut and huge thighs to support her, but that’s because she’s got all her music gear inside of her!

Her whole deal is that since sound would probably carry out interestingly from someone who’s not exactly a full liquid/full solid, and because the vibrations would send her jiggling in interesting ways. As such, she’s got a big fancy speaker lodged inside her fat gut and two others in her tits with thighs big enough to help her carry all her gear— she’s quite literally “all about that bass” as one would say!

She’s also super excited and hyped about music and doing her job in general, but it comes off a bit odd sometimes since she’s not great at emoting at times. She’s got a that sorta “half lidded, kinda always tired” look to her gooey face that tends to put people off but she’s as passionate about music ‘n dj-ing as I am monsters and ocs! She’s also cool as hell and even has some fancy LEDs sprung throughout her body to help emphasize moods and make parties hype!

Overall she’s just this big slimy goo-woman who loves music with all her being, even if her “resting bitch face” doesn’t properly show off her hype all the time.

9 notes · View notes

ibelieveinghost · 1 month

Text

3/23/24

sooooooo much happened this past week and I need to note down how things made me feel!!!

1st off I don't have my new visa yet. let's get that out of the way. I don't worry as much now. again, strange feeling.

2 things happened yesterday. went to M's orientation. I felt like my Japanese is def getting better, but not quite there yet. not sure how much help a part time job would do, but hopefully there'd be some improvements. fun fact: my employee selfie ranked 16/750,000 ppl LOL no kidding. I got that smile goin' oh and it's freaking cold yesterday. short sleeved uniform made it 1000x worse.

like...man. I felt kinda, really, honestly pretty umm...inadequate. as an adult. in terms of adulting abilities. the way I spent all my years doing big brain research stuff and not even having the experience dealing with 'real ppl'. not even a part time job(despite working at library for 6 years which doesn't count...too safe an environment), not to mention fast food/catering position like this. i have this looming fear(again) that this バイト experience would touch me in some profound, disturbing way. but anyway. I'd only grow more mature. with more tools and the mental agility to deal with more to come. like. yea. guess that's worth the price.

ok dok enough of that. Asa and I went watched dune 2 last night!!! imax laser at Shinjuku TOHO and it was so so so good! despite not having watched the first one, I find the fact of not knowing 100% what's going on less of a problem than me checking out their asses(yum) all the fucking time. would watch again, probably 4D next time bc I want to feel that sand(probably water, if we're being realistic) on my face. anyway, it was beautifully made. I came to the theater knowing jack shit about what dune it and left loving what I watched.

so that's Friday! I hangout with K Thursday, and had a long interview that evening too. again, I didn't do too well... which means I did kinda okay. still warming up to the interviewing thing I guess. hope I can get a third interview (they have 4 bruh), or a teaching demonstration next week. if I end up getting the offer, it'd be splendid. but I'm not exactly in a place be optimistic. those people are way too qualified than my current level. but I'll prepare anyway. you really can't treat ur pride or sense of worth too seriously in time like this. I know I have what I need. I know some feelings are only natural. and I decide to not dwelling on anything that's nothing serving me good and carrying me forward. and yes! I talked K into watching HH! big win! and we're going to the 🎤 theme cafe next Thursday woohoo! I had shifts scheduled mon-wed, so that gives me something to look forward to.

and then there's Tuesday. I hanged out with my kind and beautiful girlie D. can't believe she's going thru this much and did this much for folks who care so little about her. anger. I was angry. no one take advantages of my friends like this. I'll check on her more often and try to hang out more often. that's the least I can do. it's not like I can ask her to break up. but I'll be there for her.

mon and wed I slept away no kidding. I'll stop here. now photos:

(THE BEST CHINESE DISH I HAD IN TOKYO+proof that's I was NOT KIDDING)

(food and drinks lol)

(that was a nice walk we had roppongi->sendagaya beautiful weather + good tea, real good tea)

(the cards I got for my teachers! + not looking bad!)

I kinda forgot the write about my little trip to ikebukuro w/ asa last weekend. it was so much fun & I drank so much cheap wine at saizeria lol I'd like to add an entry for that night specifically but who r we kidding. chances are I just forget again. so here are the photos:

(wuwuwuwuwuwu BABIES)

(simply the best cheap wine out there and I'm ready to die on this hill. and... finally got to sit at the window seat at this saizeria crying shaking+literally stayed until the place closed)

(and we went to kichijoji on a whim. 終電までeven more chit chat at the park. it was so nice. so nice. so nice)

ok wow long entry! exactly what I wanted to do on a cold Saturday morning at my fav coffee place. closing thought: I think ppl don't understand how loud Japanese ppl can be. not complaining just stating the fact, that they can be really fucking loud in public. not sure where the 'quite' stereotype came from, and I believed it before I moved here. these. people. are. loud.

ok! off to have a productive day. hopefully! somehow this week ended up being so packed with social stuff/obligations. didn't even have the time to write here/on my journal. didn't have the time to study. hmmm..although I did read 500 pages of radioapple fanfic. but that's my selfceare leisure time!!! yea I read some really, REALLY good fluff. like oh my stars. that will never happen in canon but definitely a possibility and def not OOC.

b-bye!

#日记 #diary

0 notes

reservoirreputation · 11 months

Text

'Dimples' Extras, Part One

Just some bonus material for my Reservoir Dogs fic Dimples. For fellow writers/nerds/curious folks.

Spoilers for the whole fic, obviously. Not that far down in my blog, go read it if you haven't, yet.

*The original summary for my outline, to help guide me, give me an idea for how I wanted the story to look*

Summary: Canon compliant what if some people survived. Orange, White and Pink. Pink was a diplomat for once, Freddy was only shot in the mouth, and White in the shoulder, any closer would’ve hit Freddy. Even with two crooks, White’s still the bigger, and only, known name. They try desperately to get him fixed up, should Freddy die from his wounds. Prison break during the transfer during White and Pink’s retiral, headed by Freddy, who’s ready to burn all the bridges. He even steals the diamonds that were in evidence from the job that went wrong. All to give it to White and and Pink, with some for himself to run off with.

Freddy gives nothing on White or Pink, blames it all on Blonde. He’s too attached to White, and Pink’s cooperation is needed, and if he thinks he’s covered, vouched for, he’ll keep his mouth shut.

Freddy’s fixed up, with a world class plastic surgeon brought in. Thanks to his baby-face cheeks, Freddy’s scars are reduced to mismatched dimples. A few of his molars were shattered, and dental caps provided.

There’s the feeling from his fellow officers that Freddy may be suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Between defending the perp who shot him, and wanting to quit the force, it’s shaping up to be he was in the field for too long. Then he lets them know about how he got his first gunshot wound. He fesses up to killing a civilian, and the force does everything to ignore it, handwave it, but Freddy insists. The forensics don’t help, and it would look worse if LAPD were letting their undercovers go native like this. A deal is made; White and Pink would be cleared of suspicion of killing any cops, and a retired officer with accolades won’t be trotted out to make the whole institution look bad. Freddy loses a lot of favor from that, but not all.

Pink and White get shockingly low sentences. Freddy’s never mentioned or credited, but both know he’s the only one who could’ve campaigned this hard. White’s surprised, Pink isn’t. When they’re sent to the same prison for violent offenders, as much is said. White was so convinced that Freddy was dead, he didn’t believe it until the little bastard showed up at his, and subsequently Pink’s, trial. And on the side of the aisle sitting behind the defense. He didn’t have to say shit, and it implied everything and nothing at the same time. Pink wasn’t surprised at all. White was responsible for saving the kid’s life on a number of occasions, when it would’ve been easier to mercy kill him, and vouched for the little shit even harder. Pink says it don’t need to make sense, and dryly delivers that there’s no need to look a gift horse in the mouth.

White wasn’t going to say shit, wasn’t gonna turn anyone over. He wouldn’t have even mentioned the woman Orange had killed. News of Newandyke lawyering up, and opening up communication with White and Pink’s respective attorneys, was all news to him. That’s where the defense strategy was introduced; Freddy would minimize their involvement, and the other two just needed to keep quiet. At White’s petty request, which he didn’t think would be taken seriously, he said he didn’t want to see hide nor hair of the guy responsible for the defense strat. It was oddly to White, unsurprising to literally everyone else, that it was honored. Pink thought White was mad to even tempt fate like that, and now it sounded like Pink had picked up the torch of defending Freddy’s integrity.

White had been in love, and then betrayed. It hurt his head to know he was still in love, even as he pulled the trigger. He didn’t know what disturbed him more, now; that he was still down bad for the former Mr. Orange, or that Freddy didn’t let being shot in the face stop him from paying back a debt. Because, surely, that’s what all of this is? Pink had laid it out in a way that made so much sense, that Freddy was merely making up for all the times Larry had defended him. After their sentences were secured, surely Freddy would accept a promotion and the salary raise that came with it, and leave their lives for good. Pink thought Larry was being obtuse; this love was a two-way street. It was obvious the moment Larry had admitted to telling Orange his name, long before the job.

Rumor mills work the same no matter where they take place. There was some heat on the inside because Larry and Pink were in on some deal with the cop that set them up. The dirty looks only went so far because Larry still commanded a certain amount of respect. The Cabot line was dead, their allies few, and their enemies willing to look the other way. Word of Newandyke’s resignation spread like wildfire, and soon the speculation in the prison and the LAPD headquarters began to sync up; White and Orange must’ve been an item. The attitude was either that Larry had a magical dick that even a cop couldn’t say no to, or that Freddy had lost his goddamned mind on a little something called love. Both had the same result, really. Inmates would routinely quip that if they knew it was that easy, they would’ve blown the DA years ago. Cops would say with newfound certainty that they always knew that Officer Newandyke was strange, in that vintage sense.

Any chances of Freddy changing his mind, returning to the force, went out the window when he got word of the latest hot gossip. It was overheard, out in the open. Freddy knew that if he heard his soon-to-be-former coworkers talk like this on accident, that means they were saying mad shit behind closed doors, probably hundreds of times by now. The whole twisting of his superior’s arm, threatening to make the force look bad, wasn’t making people want to give Freddy the benefit of the doubt. He now sensed a campaign had been launched against him, to make him look biased as hell, and call into question every single last one of his statements. Worst part was, it was all true. Except for any fucking, he was absolutely doing this because he was saving Larry’s skin. He was saving a cop killer from being charged as such because he loved him. The more people that learned about what crimes Freddy was trying to hide, the more the officers of the LAPD hated his guts. He was a traitor.

When Freddy got wind of a retrial, which involved new evidence and discrediting of previous testimony, he knew which way the wind was blowing. The rest of the guys at the station wanted the cop killers charged, even if it meant ruining the reputation of one of their own. Likely, this would never end; not for Freddy, not Larry, not Pink. One, if not all three, may have an ‘accident’ in the near future. And Freddy could either lie there and take it, or go on the offense.

The first thing is to get a little insurance. He steals the diamonds from evidence. Not all, but some, along with other precious materials in the back. Other cops did it all the time, mooching off of leftover product. But he couldn’t go all in on the original diamonds, because they would be packed up once more as part of the prosecution. The other cops wouldn’t be double checking it’s weight, because if it didn’t match up, it could’ve honestly been any one of them who’d gotten sticky fingers.

He next makes a production about moving out of his smaller, shittier apartment, and is in contact with his Mom upstate about moving back in, just while he’s changing careers. Plenty of phone calls and a paper trail. He also lets it slip to one of the local newspapers that he won’t be attending the retrial. Obvious why he wouldn’t, for those in the know. It’ll be disheartening when word gets back to Larry and Pink, but it’ll set everyone’s expectations. On trial day, Freddy Newandyke will be four hours away moving back in with Mommy.

The transfer van had left early in the morning, with the two inmates on board. From Larry and Pink’s perspectives, they can’t see shit, and were never well-versed enough with the area to even make a guess. They hear a commotion outside. The back of the van’s windowless, so they can only guess that maybe someone had a wreck. The car comes to a stop, one of the front doors opens. There’s two guards up front, and they suppose it won’t be the driver getting out. Another door opens, there’s yelling, a gunshot.

The van begins to move.

Pink starts to sweat, thinking maybe that Cabot’s friends are finally getting revenge. Or that the LAPD wasn’t gonna let them make it to trial. He’s practically hysterical, thinking this out loud, and Larry tries to get him to shut up. As that’s like telling a fish not to swim, Larry switches to reasoning; they didn’t need the big production, involving a gun, to achieve that. He’s not actually thinking it through, himself, he just wants Pink to shut the fuck up. Pink counters that now the cops have the cover story that they were carjacked, can blame it on Cabot loyalists. Larry doesn’t want to admit how much that freaks him out.

There’s no way to tell how much time has passed, but it feels like a good twenty minutes. Could’ve been five, could easily have been an hour. The van eventually stops. Pink and Larry look at each other. They whisper about going on three, running separate directions, so at least one of them can bail. Both also realize that, still being cuffed, wouldn’t matter how far they get. It feels like it’s the end of the line.

The front door opens. Shuts. Footsteps on gravel. The sound stops. Three knocks on the van door.

“Don’t freak out on me, alright?”

Pink says, “Motherfuckin’ Orange.”

Light pours in, and there stands Freddy Newandyke.

Freddy has the keys, and without so much as a hello, he undoes the cuffs. He steps back out, waiting for the other two to join.

Larry is feeling petty. He’s feeling relieved. One or the other will make it to the finish line, first.

“You a cop killer now, Newandyke?”

Freddy stares back at him. “No, I’d knocked him out.” he’s wearing a plaid shirt, opens the flap. There’s a bullet hole embedded in body armor. “If you assholes ever work again, tell your future bosses that suits look dope as shit, but are fuck all against bullets.”

Pinks laughs, throwing his head back. Larry could practically kiss Freddy, right here and now.

“Only took you a few more years, kid,” Pink starts, “I think you’re finally in, now.”

#reservoir dogs #fanfic #ao3 #orange/white #creamsicle #extras #bonus material #behind the scenes #writers #writing #nerdy shit

0 notes

bibuckbuckley · 3 years

Text

Okay but I am not over how Buck was so clearly framed as the "person who had to watch their love almost die right in front him but now has to take the full responsibility of taking care of their son and continue to work all while being a complete and emotional wreck".

Like when Buck had "the hardest job" - Chimney perfectly put it- and went to tell Christopher about Eddie and was trying to reign in his emotional turmoil, once he saw that Eddie had made it through surgery he just could not keep it in anymore. He completely broke down and CHRISTOPHER was the one to comfort BUCK before they both comfort each other. Which I always go absolutely feral about bc even though Buck wears his emotions on his sleeves we all know how he tends to put others first. We saw how he was trying to reign in his own grief so he could be there for Christopher. Because being there for Christopher was the most important thing in Buck's eyes, his own emotions be damned. An yet once that he saw that Eddie survived surgery and was going to be okay, he could not control it anymore.

And then we see him staying at the Diaz house and taking care of Christopher. However, Chris is the one who has to wake up Buck to school. That lil moment reminds me so much of a scene in Practical Magic where Sandra Bullock's character, Sally, is grieving the death of her husband and her daughter tries to wake her up to take her to school while Sally is numb just completely overtaken by her grief. We see Buck be the same way. And even though he does get up and takes care of Christopher and goes to work, we see how not okay he is. so much so that he wants get shot by the sniper as well

Which leads me the integral scene with Buck and Bobby. We all talk about the BLATANT parallels between Buddie and Bathena that this episode beautifully showed, but I gotta talk about it again. Right when Eddie had gotten shot, Bathena had the biggest fight of their marriage. But once they got their feelings out from the fight and was effected by the shooting, they had a honest conversation about what was bothering them. Which hugely consisted of Bobby talking about what it was like to witness what happened to Athena and how it effected him. Which brings me back to the scene with Bobby and Buck. When Bobby tells him that what happened to Eddie wasn't his fault, we get a DIRECT parallel with Buck saying "No but I was just the guy standing there who couldn't do anything about it" to which we get Bobby just staring at him in what seems to be a knowing look mixed shock and recognition. Because that was what he was literally what he was talking about with Athena. In the end of s3 with what happened to Athena and then in this season as well (especially this season) we see Bobby talk about and deal with witnessing HIS WIFE having a traumatic near death experience. Which was blatantly paralleled with Buck's trauma and grief with Eddie. (Two ppl having to witness the person they love most/their spouse almost die.)

But the parallels don't end there folks. No sir.

Not only do we get a hospital scene with both Bathena and Buddie but there are so many parallels in the Bathena hospital scene with Buddie. First we have the obvious of Athena sitting at Bobby side like Buck sat by Eddie's side as they both have emotional conversations. But whereas Buck mentions how he thought it'd been better he had been the one who had gotten shot instead of Eddie, Athena talks about saving Bobby.

Which I would like to point out the parallel of Buck helping Athena save Bobby and his knowing look when she said that it had to be her to save her husband. He understood that need and helped her be the one to save Bobby and not the actual firefighters (of course there's other reasons for Athena being the one like the guy having a gun but still).

But back to the hospital scenes parallels. In Bathena's hospital scene and the second one for Buddie (aka the Will™ scene), both relationships have a certain... shift if you will. Bathena's issues are fully solved and their relationship has grown even more for the better. And with Buddie the shift is also a growth in their relationship, just in a different way.

Because seeing how Eddie getting shot effected Buck and made him think so lowly of himself that he thought it'd be better if he was the one who got shot but also saw how Buck to continued to take care of Christopher despite of it, Eddie decides to finally tell Buck about the will. It's not only a shift of finally acknowledging the will after keeping it a secret for so long but a shift in how they're relationship is going to be for now. Sure, they already planned to always be in each other's lives but this seals it.

And what helps both relationships shift as all is what Athena and Eddie tell Bobby and Buck, respectively Athena tells Bobby that she couldn't let a little fire keep her from saving her partner. That right there is Athena reaffirming that Bobby is her partner, that she acknowledges the issues they had talked about previously about not acting like equal partners and reaffirms that they are fact partners. But then she also shows how much she loves Bobby. He's her partner in every way and she would (and did) walk through literal fire for him (which in LS we saw Judd use an example to show how much he would show Grace how much he loved her). Athena not only reminds Bobby how much she loves him, how she feels, but also tells him what he needed to hear that moment with what they were going through (especially with his lingering issues with what happened to Athena s3).

Now, with The Hospital Scene™ with Buddie, we get Eddie telling Buck about the will (which, given the fact that he kept it hidden for a year ass year indicates that it was a pretty big deal for Eddie to finally tell him) and Eddie does it because of what he also tells him. That Buck, Evan, in fact not expendable. That he knows Buck's perception of himself is that he's expendable, that Buck thought it'd be better if he was the one who got shot.

So how does that parallel the scene with Bathena? Well, Eddie shows Buck just how much he trusts him with Christopher (aka his heart and soul). They are partners already, but this just takes their partnership even further bc yeah, Eddie had already told Buck that 'there's no one else in this world I trust more with my son than you', but this both reaffirms that and takes it a step further. Because he made it legal that he'd rather Buck take care of his son more than his family. This reaffirms his trust in Buck, their partnership. Just like Athena reaffirmed hers and Bobby's partnership. Just like how she showed Bobby just how much she loved him by walking through literal fire for him, Eddie shows how much he loves and cares for Buck by entrusting Buck with the most precious thing in the world to him aka his son. And just like how Athena telling Bobby that is what he needed to hear, Eddie telling Buck about the will and showcasing the biggest insecurity that Buck was going through at the moment, that he's thinks that he's expendable but he's wrong.

Both Eddie and Athena saw how what happened to them effected their partners and they both have these things to help their partners with it (and themselves).

In conclusion, all of this shows the framing of Buck being the "grieving partner who had to deal with watching the love of their almost die". Because almost all of those Bathena parallels dealt with what Bobby had to deal with witnessing Athena almost die and how the aftereffects which directly paralleled with Buck was currently going through in that episode. And the of end episode (as well as Buck's season arc) getting a reaffirmation from his partner and consolation of how what happened to them effected him. Just how Athena did with Bobby.

Say it with me folks: Choices were made.

Thank you for coming to my Tedtalk.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #kj makes a post #buddie meta #long post

147 notes · View notes

poisonousquinzel · 3 years

Note

https://lady-ha-ha.tumblr.com/post/160715688748/is-that-comic-before-the-reboot-and-which-one-is

(I have not read this comic) Is this true? (if so, ivy deserves someone better).

Post

Kay, first off both of those people are Jarley shippers so take everything they say with a grain of salt and then some, cause no. that part isn't about how much Harley loves Joker and will always choose him over Ivy. Literally you can tell ops don't know what they're talking about cause her whole thing in those issues is going to kill him for years of graphic abuse but ultimately falls back with him once she’s face to face with him.

Like wow, congrats on missing the fucking point again but not surprised from people who ship her with The Fucking Joker.

also, ffs, can anyone please have basic comprehension skills and realize that Harley and Ivy are both fucked up sometimes because they’ve got issues and that’s not comparable to Joker’s long ass history of graphic and disgusting abuse.

Harley and Ivy are villains, they're not a wholesome cookie cutter, White Picket Fence, super vanilla ship with no bad moments. They're both bad guys with a fuck ton of trauma that they both have to work through, and have done so at this point.

Gotham City Sirens was published between 2009 - 2011, Harley and Ivy weren't blatantly romantic at this point nor had they had anywhere near the development that they’ve had at this point.

Like don’t go into Harlivy content expecting them to be the perfect wlw rep with no flaws during their arcs from BTAS to current time cause that’s just not realistic. They’re both deeply flawed people who’ve got a fuck ton of trauma that they need to (and have) worked through.

I have talked about the BTAS issues here and this post is good at explaining them too.

Harlivy is not and has never been a purely wholesome, goody-goody ship. They’re messy, they have issues, and they have bad moments sometimes, but they both worked through their seperate trauma and came out stronger and better because at the end of the day, they care about each other.

Harlivy has messy, toxic moments sometimes, but they’re not, and have never been, abusive. There’s a difference between unhealthy moments and a ship being abusive.

That’s completely different to how Joker acts Constantly, because he does not care that his actions towards Harley are abusive, because he doesn’t give a shit about her.

He enjoys hurting her. He enjoys ruining her.

Jarley has always been intended to be written and shown as a domestically abusive relationship.

This is also the first instance where it's directly referenced that there's something more than platonic between her and Ivy, other than the reference in Batgirl Adventures.

Gotham City Sirens is also not connected to any verses.

This didn’t happen in the timeline we’re in rn with Harley Quinn (2014)/(2016)/(2021).

Comic timelines and shit are stupid and make everything more confusing and awful and I hate it sdfjdksksdkjsd

this is gonna be a long post since ops wanna just cut and paste random bits of the issues like jarley stans always do (cause jarley never has good moments that aren’t entirely surrounded by him abusing her) I’m going to show them in full context. *added a keep reading cause it is a lot

(All panels shown are from #15, #18, #19, #20, #21, #23, #24, #25)

So, Harley's entire thing at this point in the GCS comic in that she's been triggered by flashbacks of Joker's abuse and she breaks into Arkham with the intent to kill him.

The entire thing in these issues is showing her smarts and how she knows people's trump cards to get under their skin so she can break into Arkham.

She’s trained to identify these things in people and she's fucking good at pushing people's buttons.

this is also just one of my fav Harley covers so I wanted to show it jsdjksdks

“Trump cards. Everyone has one. Places where the armor we build around ourselves is weakest.”

She’s right. And it’s now shown that Harley’s willing to use those below the belt trump cards if she has to.

And frankly, I’d say this is worse than what she says to Ivy. And I’m not surprised she did it. She didn’t want to, she tried to get him to just open the door -

“Don’t make me do this, Aaron. There are some secrets that should stay hidden. Things you should never learn about your own life.”

but she’s also entirely fueled by rage and the desire to kill Joker. She came here for a reason and she’s not leaving until she’s done it.

“I’m going to kill you. For everything you’ve done to me. All the times you’ve made me feel useless and small. For all the times I will never forget. For all the things I can never forgive. All the memories -”

“Hello, Harley. I’ve missed you.”

“Memories. That’s all I have left. The past is gone and all I have is... memories.

Memories.

Memory.

Gone.

I guess I too have a trump card.”

“Oh, Ivy. You know exactly what my answer is going to be. But you’re hoping you’re wrong, aren’t you?”

She’s also right about this, they already mentioned this in #18.

“How did I become the bad guy?”

“You’re the one choosing a man over her girls.”

“Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dumb us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

“Hey! That’s not fair-- Actually, that’s probably true.”

“The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.”

“Too easy, Ivy. Too easy. I know your weak spots. Now I just need to push.”

This is exactly what she’s been doing since the starting point of this post. She’s still in that mindset and she knows she can’t beat her on a regular battle field. Neither of them can.

“Like I said-- You beat me in any level playing field. But I don’t fight on those fields.”

Harley’s biggest strength as a villain is her ability to completely mentally stall her opponents and learn their weak spots. She wouldn’t win against the majority of the Big Bads if she didn’t fight on a different field than they are.

so, like yeah, out of context what she says to Ivy seems awful and completely screwed up, and it is, but it’s also built up really well and it’s completely in character for her at this point in her fall during these issues.

Is what she did fucked? absolutely. It’s not painted that it’s not.

Ivy Literally Goes To Kill Her For It.

In the end of this all three of them are recaptured by Catwoman and Batman and that’s where we’re starting off at again.

“Oh, Harley.

The only human I’ve ever called a friend.

To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath.

Without me, she could never grow.

But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.”

“Will she ever stand by herself?

Will she ever be ready?

She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline, it makes her excited, nervous, then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more.

She sees it as passion. She sees it as love.

But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.”

Ivy is well aware of the nature of their relationship. She’s not stupid and she’s been shown already to know that it’s something that takes time. It’s not a one off break up and it’s over. That’s not how abusve relationships work.

What do I do?

I could use my pheromones to alter her brain chemistry.

I could leave her behind abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.

I could kill her right now.

Show her how red Nature can be.

There's one other option.

It would require patience.

Even love.

Maybe I'm more human than I want to admit.

"You have one chance to answer this."

I know, if she agrees, she'll be doing it for revenge. For him.

"She put us behind bars."

But maybe if I get away from this place, if I give her something else to think about. Maybe she can break the cycle. But it has to be her choice.

"I'm going to kill her. Come with me."

So yeah, it’s definitely not a just “Harley hurts her and runs off with Joker and it’s just a plain ol’ her choosing him over everyone and that’s that.”

Jarley shippers love to just reduce all her scenes and arcs down to their “epic love” and shit, but that’s taking away literally everything about her and reducing it down to the 3 panels that they’re “cute” in. Her arc in this part is fucking heartbreaking to read.

And Ivy damn well knows what’s going on with her. She’s smart and she’s the one that’s been there throughout all of this. She found her in the park after he shot her out of a rocket.

And she knows it’ll take time for Harley to get over and through his manipulation, that’s just how it works with abusive relationships.

But she’s also not forgiving at first, she’s mad and rightfully so, until she sees the sate of Harley’s cell and realizes how bad her addiction is at that time.

A lot of the unhealthy moments on Harley’s side when it comes to them are directly caused from the effects of being in an abusive relationship with Joker. Because she’s always in this area of her journey in those moments. She’s never fully over him or emancipated.

And that’s realistic. It’s hard sometimes to be friends with someone who’s in abusive relationships like theirs, having to watch them return to that person time and time again and it’s frustrating after a while.

I know from personal experience, it’s really hard to watch someone you care about go back or forgive someone that continues to hurt them.

But abuse victims desperately need a support system outside of their abuser. It’s a crucial part of being able to escape, because when they do try to get out they need someone there or they’ll literally have no where to go but back into their abuser’s arms.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s really rough for everyone effected, but that’s just how it is most of the time. Especially in their case, as they’re not just regular folk dealing with this.

If she doesn’t have Ivy, Harley has no one else to go to but Joker, on more than just an emotional level.

She’s lost her job. Her income. Her home. Her livelihood. Her everything.

Most of the time she has no other choice but to return to a life of crime after she’s released from Arkham because she can’t get a job, she’s a notorious criminal and she’s got a lot of issues that don’t just disappear with a bit of therapy.

She has no other choice but to return to Joker because the other alternative is the streets. At least she knows what to expect with him.

And that’s not even getting into the manipulation, gaslighting and degrading abuse that he drills into her constantly.

He’s made her believe she’s not anything without him. That she’s not smart or useful or anything.

And that’s why it’s so damn important for her to have a support system and why he’s so damn against Ivy.

Because Ivy is the good voice on her shoulder telling her he’s wrong and that she doesn’t deserve that.

And on Ivy’s side, she’s aware she gets very near cutting off all parts of her humanity.

She’s a plant goddess, she’s insanely powerful and she feels everything through the green. Frankly, she’s not even on the same playing field as these villains. She’s significanty more powerful than Harley and Joker.

Her connection to Harley is what keeps her humanity in tack, because despite everything, she does care about her. She was the first person she let in, the first person Ivy called a friend.

The person that was able to get through to her in #14/#15 when she was losing herself. The one that was able to get through to her that the dude was manipulating her.

“Ivy, I know you think you love this guy... but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

She had to knock her out for the dude to trust her / not attack them anymore. But Harley got through to her by mentioning how they first met in the park when she saved her after Joker shot her off in a rocket.

And Ivy is understandable turned off towards humans considering her origin and trauma around that.

She’s got a lot of trust issues.

But both of them work through their seperate traumas over the years because their affection for each other is stronger than the issues their trauma has given them.

and also, sometimes, they just have shit writers. that’s an issue overall in comic fandoms. Some writers just fucking suck at getting any of the characters right, let alone LGBT characters, who’re notoriously treated like garbage by DC.

#sorry if it came off a bit aggressive anon i don't mind ya asking <3 #ops just annoy me SDJSKSK #tw abuse #tw clown boy #long post #♦️ asks ♦️#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #poison ivy #pamela isley #harlivy #gotham city sirens #me? rambling in detail about Harley? yup yup

63 notes · View notes

absentcaryatid · 3 years

Text

Mingi’s New Job

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

1K words, Content note: food, unelaborated mention of harassment

This demon AU was on my mind after a delightful conversation with @smileysuh yesterday in which she commented that Mingi would not make a good demon. Thank you so much for the laugh and idea.

It was a rare day off and Mingi did not know what to do with himself, partly because demons never got the day off. After the latest incident reuniting a dog with their tearful owner, Mingi was about to lose his job but it was difficult to feel bad about that. Although born into a very well respected and devilish demon family he had always been a misfit and grown to be a sweet young man no matter how much they tried to change his nature.

He was tall but never intimidating about it. The deep voice which could have been so effective literally damning people was always cheerful and his face made to sneer menacingly was often found with a grin breaking into frequent laughter.

Getting fired would probably improve his life even if he had no idea what demons could do to be self-supporting. Perhaps an ice cream cart in the park bringing people pleasure would be something he would like to do. He had grown up around them when practicing the dark arts making the ice cream fall right off the cone at the first lick. Even that taste of the power to menace the lives of humans had left him empty save for the few times he judged the person deserved it for yelling at their child or being rough with their pet. Along these lines he had developed a flair for getting birds to deposit on the heads of street harassers interrupting their frightening behavior.

So, Mingi had skills, just not ones most demons would think bragworthy. He tried, he really did, but his heart was not cut out to be a demon. His older brother was great at it, making it hard to follow in his cloven footsteps no matter what, but it made Mingi's pathetic attempts look even sadder. During the job's trial period the worst Mingi could come up with to torment humanity was paper cuts and the occasional lemon juice afterward for those who truly deserved it, but more often he was found running over to provide welcome comfort in the form of a Hello Kitty band-aid.

The sting of disdain from the observer grading him was still felt months later. At the time Mingi thought it was only as a favor to his notable family that he was allowed to graduate to independent work but he was beginning to wonder if that really just meant there was nobody left who would put up with him in a training placement at their side.

He decided then and there that the demon life was not for him. In a rare twist, he was the first person ever to call forth a demon to make a deal for a soul, not giving one up but hoping to receive one. His brother had appeared on demand happy to see Mingi who was so easy to love despite all his shortcomings that made him a wash out as a demon. Listening to the problem, his brother came up with an offer. “I shall give you a soul and make you fully human at the cost of your powers.”

Mingi's eyes shone at the possibility of a life much more suited to his gentle heart. “I would like to make people happy if I can, bring a smile to their faces and help them feel strong when they are low.”

Thinking a moment his brother had an idea. “Lots of folks sell their soul to become an idol. I have placed quite a few in the Korean pop industry myself. Would you like me to make that happen?”

“Oh yes, please! I could bring joy to so many people!” The little brother flung himself into the arms of his sibling and cried in thanks.

In a rare moment of tenderness, his brother wiped a tear rather than his usual activity of gleefully causing them in people. “Be right back.” The elder vanished in a dramatic cloud of sulfurous smoke Mingi was never able to manage, his own transportations to the underworld somehow left a delicate pink cloud with a hint of bubblegum.

A thunderclap announced his brother's return. “Okay, I cleared it with mom and dad who agree you can make them proud as an idol in a way demon work was never going to suit you. I have set you up for an audition with KQ Entertainment. They will be forming a group called KQ Fellaz which will later become ATEEZ. I know it is a lot to take in right now but you will be great at this and I have made sure the other members are people who will come to love you like I do.”

Ruffling the hair of his little brother he added, “I know you will be happier on Earth and I will still be keeping an eye on you and visiting regularly. You are of course welcome to come home for the major holidays because it would not be the same without the whole family. Call out for me anytime and I will pick you up.”

A very heartfelt “Thank you” was all Mingi could manage in the circumstances as his brother looked at him fondly. It came to pass as planned and Mingi's life with ATEEZ suited him perfectly. Still getting the hang of being human, he did look a little lost from time to time and needed more support than his teammates in some things but all in all his life was a far more fitting one than his previous work. Mingi's family took a little heat from the big boss for their role in making the world a better place with ATEEZ in it but they weathered it well and everyone in demon clan Song, even the human one, lived happily ever after.

Mingi Masterlist

General Masterlist

#ATEEZ #ATEEZ Fluff #ATEEZ Fanfic #Kpop Fanfic #Kpop Fluff #Song Mingi #Mingi #ATEEZ Mingi #Demon AU #cross posted on ao3 #It was a rare day off

34 notes · View notes

generallynerdy · 3 years

Text

Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

Read On AO3

“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din.

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right.

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

425 notes · View notes