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garbinge · 1 year

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Flower Shop

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Flower Shop A/N: This is NOT the same reader as my other Richie fics. I've decided to compile those fics into their own multichap because I've gotten some Bear fic ideas outside of that little universe I've created. ALSO, huge shout out to @kind-wolf for this idea!!!! Seriously sparked so much inspiration, thank you x 10000000 I hope you enjoy :) Warnings: Cursing, arguing, light angst, mentions of harassment, and someone being drunk and disorderly.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth

“We’re across from that stupid fuckin’ flower shop.” Richie spoke into the phone. “Yes, that one.” He was staring out the window at the shop he mentioned, annoyance growing as he stared out. “No, I don’t know if they’ve got white roses, look, will you just tell me when my meat delivery is gonna be here, I gotta fuckin’ feed people.” Richie had slammed his hand down on the table like the person on the other line could see his frustration. Before the conversion continued, Richie saw movement where he was staring across the street. “I gotta go, just deliver the fuckin’ meat.”

As you stepped outside of your flower shop, dragging to large potted plants to sit alongside the front door, you heard the familiar bell of the shop across the street. At first the noise went unnoticed, the first few weeks it was just part of the Chicago hustle and bustle but two months in, you began to notice it because it usually meant that someone was about to start yelling at you.

“I thought I told you that putting that shit out on the street causes distractions and traffic!” The man yelled out to you.

Right on schedule was the thought in your head as you huffed and stood up to yell back.

“I thought I told you to mind your fuckin’ business, beef boy!” You usually had discourse like this on a daily basis but between the early start you had and the exhaustion from pulling these plants out of the back storage room, you were a little more rowdy today.

“Beef boy?” He scoffed. “Stop blocking the sidewalk, you–you–flower fuck!” He tripped up on what to call you there and it made you smile.

“T-t-t- today, Junior!” You mocked him back.

“Are you making fun of me by quoting Billy fucking Madison?!”

The cars of traffic were moving on the roads in front of you, the audacity they had interrupting your heated discussion. But nonetheless, you weren’t going to let it stop you from going back and forth.

“Why are you such a fuckin’ jagoff?!” You called back out at him.

The comment made the slightest smirk grow on Richie’s face, you were too far to notice it which he was grateful for but hearing the word that he called people so often out of someone else’s mouth was amusing.

“I don’t know, why don’t you look in the mirror and tell me why you’re such a jagoff!” He lifted his hand up and pointed his finger, throwing it at you as he spoke.

“Wow.” You started clapping. “Great comeback, what are we 10? I know you are what am I?” You called out in a immature tone.

“I’m gonna go back inside and work because some of us put our blood sweat and tears into our jobs, while other people sit up on their bouqueted pedestals and fuck over us hard workers!”

You had no idea what he was saying, what he meant by it but that was also a pretty normal and everyday occurrence so you didn’t think twice about it and just yelled out before going back inside your flower shop.

“Go fuck yourself, beef boy!”

These things happened pretty often, not everyday but often enough that your comebacks got funnier, they got more detailed, more pointed, on both sides. When you went out to water the plants on display in front of the store and Richie went out for a smoke break you yelled across at each other. When you both were at the window looking at the rain clouds forming or the rain drops falling, you’d throw middle fingers up and mouth profanities at each other. When you’d stay late and look across the street to see Richie there at the restaurant late, you’d stare at each other, give mean looks and turn the lights off to work in the back offices at your shop.

It was strangely something enjoyable, for both of you. It was a way to get out so much frustration and build up tension that had accrued in the days. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew that but you weren’t exactly looking for the textbook solution to your problems these days.

As you stood outside, past closing time, sweeping up the dead leaves and fallen petals from the day, Richie was out for what was likely his 5th smoke break of the day. It was late, and you both tended to keep it down when curfew hours hit, out of respect for the block, not each other. As you moved along your storefront, you heard a voice that wasn’t familiar.

“Yo, can I please get some flowers, my girl’s mad at me and I need something to bring home.” The voice was slurred, the person sounded drunk. You looked up and saw the person who had stumbled up to your store.

“I can give you a mix of stuff for $10.” You weren’t in the mood to cause problems so you thought this would be a good compromise. A bouquet like that would normally be double so you thought this was the perfect meet in the middle deal.

“Nah, I don’t got any money. Just let me go in and grab something small, no biggie, alright?” The man started to push by and tried to get in the door that you had already locked.

“We’re closed, I can go grab something for you, and you can give me $10 for it, that’s it.” Your voice was firm as you stepped in front of the door.

“C’mon!” The guy whined.

“Alright, new plan. No flowers, and you get the fuck out of here.” There was no whine in your tone, you weren’t playing games which is why the push you gave the guy was more aggressive than your initial block.

While the push worked to get him away from the door, the man didn’t leave.

“Pretty sure she told you to get the fuck out of here.”

That sentence was said by someone else and it made both you and the man turn to look at where the hardened voice was coming from. You saw the man from across the street, now much closer on your side of the street, on your sidewalk. He looked different closer up, you could see the features of his face better, despite it being late at night you could see things that the space hid. The bags under his eyes, the roughness of his stubbled beard, the wrinkles in his forehead and eyes, he was worn, he had been through a lot, you could tell. You also could tell that he had been used to these type of run ins, or you so assumed as you looked at the gun in his hand that wasn’t being threatened yet, but was ready in the case it needed to be.

“But my flowers…” The man stumbled slightly as he spoke.

“They’re her flowers, not yours. Go home, get the fuck out of here.” Richie stepped forward, using his body to show force and slightly raising the gun to let the man know it was there.

And it worked. The man left, drunk and defeated, leaving you and Richie on the sidewalk in front of your shop.

“I had it handled.” The glare you had was still on the man walking away and when he got out of your view, you turned to the person still next to you.

“Most people just say thank you.” He scoffed as he put the gun in his back waistband.

“You have a history of showing up armed and ready to shoot someone?” You raised your eyebrow and leaned on the broom handle.

“No, I just–do you have to argue everything?” He was frustrated.

“I just assumed that was our thing.” Your shoulders shrugged so nonchalantly.

Richie let out a laugh and shook his head as he took a step off the curb and was now standing on the asphalt of the street, slowly making his way back over to the restaurant. “I’d buy yourself a piece, get yourself familiar with it, this block can get hot sometimes.”

“Who says I’m not familiar?” You called out to him with a smirk on your face.

“My mistake.” He lifted his hands up in surrender with a similar smirk to your own before turning around fully to step onto his side of the street.

“Hey, beef boy!” The humor in your voice was being held back by a thin thread as you smiled through your words.

Richie turned around, his hand on the door handle ready to enter back into the restaurant as he stared at you. For the first time ever, you weren’t going to yell profanities at eachother, give rude gestures or annoyed looked. For the first time you smiled at him and truly had no sarcastic attitude in what the next two words out of your mouth would be.

“Thank you!”

#The Bear #The bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #richie jerimovich #richie fuckin jerimovich #richie jerimovich x f!reader #richie jerimovich x reader #my writing #garbinge

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Pronoun discourse is just as exhausting in person. A trans girl in my group project for History of Modern Europe refused to use he/him for me because "they/them is neutral" and I looked her in the eyes and said, "I will not reply to group texts, upload anything or share resources if you don't refer to me correctly. I use silence to train my dogs, I use it to train transmisandrists, too." She was furious and spent a few weeks misgendering me... until she realized I was serious and I would let all of us fail this group project because this he/him? Yeah, this he/him had a 100 on every single assignment up until that point and could take the grade hit. If other people can't, well, that's not my problem.

She learned to call me he/him with incredible regularity once her grade was on the line. Suddenly, two words weren't incredibly hard to recall and abruptly, not every conversation with her turned into her lecturing me on how trans women have it harder than trans men. We were able to talk about the actual subject of the group assignment and she was able to remember he/him.

Meanwhile, the cishet members of the group had not struggled to recall he/him for me once, nor had they turned group project meetings into discourse once.

Why are queer people always most vicious with their fellow queers? I'm in MONTANA, and the people worst to me aren't the fucking rednecks, it's other queer people. Rednecks don't condescend to me about how they/them is neutral and good and indicates they're trying their best and trans men have it easy actually. It's the city queers sitting there going, "Rather than just call you he/him and spend this meeting for our group project focusing on the project, I'm going to treat you like the enemy and lecture you." People talk about the concept of a 'queer community' but getting lectured about how trans women have it worse than trans men (because I guess my saying 'use my pronouns' secretly implies I think trans men have it worse? idk, I don't speak bullshitese) doesn't make me go, "Ah, yes. My community! I feel so supported!" it makes me go, "Oh, fuck. Great, I'm stuck talking to an asshole."

Between this, the lesbians I've met on campus who keep making, "gays can't do math or science or history or whatever other subject we're in right now" jokes who seethe with contempt for the privileged gay men, the cis gay guys terrified of doing something perverted who view drag, cosplay, wearing a skirt, wearing makeup or fucking around with presentation at all as not okay/possibly problematic and the NBs who cannot emphasize enough to you that they're one of the good ones who don't dye their hair or wear stupid shit or use neopronouns like the bad ones do, and the utter disgust they all look at anyone with who dares use the word queer, I'm beginning to feel like "the queer community" is one of those things you don't get access to until you're 30+. Alternatively "the queer community" appears to "antis, but with rainbows and flags and ew you think the rainbow flag is for everyone you're so problematic", which is... not great, honestly?

I know this will get a lot of queer people very angry but I'll say it: there are 492 anti-queer laws proposed in the USA, not counting the ones that have passed. We should probably focus on that instead of going for each other's throats and then saying we're a "community".

I don't think it will get many queer people around here angry, but yes.

We have more of a need to draw together into a community when everyone's dying of AIDS or getting beaten up or trying to stop laws that make it illegal for us to exist.

Some people have the privilege to shit all over that community. They don't see it as one, but it is.

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marimoluver · 6 months

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Random Chapter 1110 Rant/Ramble

Bro why am I seeing people say Sanji is bullying Zoro 😭

Sanji isn’t a bully. Those two always been harsh with each other. They both hold each other to a high standard. I understand the concerned about Zoro’s insecurities about being a burden but Zoro wasn’t performing his best. Sanji is seeing Zoro do something very ooc. Sure Zoro is the type to pick unnecessary fights but to drag it out during a life or death situation? Sanji was rightfully pissed off. If the roles were reversed and Sanji was dragging out a fight Zoro would react the same way.

So I need yall to stop babying Zoro and turning this into a ZS bad. I am seeing takes that Zoro and Sanji despise each other and have 0 understand for each other. If you felt Sanji was harsh that’s fine but he wasn’t in the wrong. Plus it’s just fueling stupid discourse.

My take away is I’m going use this as fuel for Zosan angst. Neither of them had been acting right. If y’all thought burden was to cruel for Zoro you wouldn’t be able to handle the fact in Japan Sanji said it in a more arrogant tone. He sounded more like his brothers. Sanji’s germa plot point is still going on.

Also I saw a theory that Zoro is still injured from Wano but is hiding it. I believe in the more meta explanation that Oda had to sideline Zoro until the climax but that’s another cool parallel to Sabaody. I fuck with it and hope it the case.

I think what could happen is post Egghead Sanji confronts to tell Zoro off. He can tell something is off with Zoro but Zoro would just tell Sanji to fuck off. They would get into a serious fight and start Elbaf with tension. Maybe during Elbaf Sanji goes full Germa and Zoro fights him and talks/beat him out of it.

This way that promise during Wano of Zoro having to kill Sanji if he loses his mind can finally come full circle. Also I think having a genuine Zoro vs Sanji fight would be heat.

#one piece #ronoroa zoro #sanji vinsmoke #sanzo #zosan #I know I said people but it’s ZL fans that hate ZS that are pushing this

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sageistri · 3 months

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I personally do not think Jin should be blamed in any of the translations with what’s going on today 😭 Army translators already clarified it. I know most PJM’s on my timeline are also not blaming him, but I saw some PJM’s doing it. I also think what happened to that army was too much. I used to follow her when I was an army and she was not a shipper. She shouldn’t have tweeted that, yes, but I also think it’s a genuine mistake. Some people are saying she did it deliberately, and I just don’t think she did.

I've been feeling sick and honestly I've not had the energy to do anything more than scroll through these posts and I also do not have the energy to go back and forth with anyone today or interact with anyone who in anyway believes that army account was definitely thinking "yeah... This will definitely get Jimin dragged, I'm going to post this"

Because yeah she is also an army account I see all the time and she doesn't even engage In fandom discourse and infighting and Everytime they're on my tl it's always related to jjk or one piece. I think it was an honest mistake and was tweeted in the heat of the moment.

Another thing was that I literally saw that exact same translation by a translation account When I first came online and genuinely believed that was exactly what Jin said but as someone who's in these spaces I just knew some people are going to be shady with it and so I would know not to tweet something like that but the truth is not every army is as involved in the this stanning thing as we are , especially when it comes to our flights with kpop stans or akgaes and these type of people don't really think of what antis could say before they make a tweet.

Also saw more vitriol for the army than the antis like her deactivating would stop blinks from using a screenshot they got from weverse. You might say she should have been very careful especially knowing how things about BTS are taken out of context but with them feeling so excited I doubt they were thinking about all that. And then I see people claim she left the tweet up on purpose like they can't comprehend a reality where someone would be off their phone for more than a few hours and then they come online explaining they never meant to bring him any hate and in true Twitter fashion they were still being asked to deactivate.

Now on to Jin, even if he did say that exact same statement I do not get attacking him because there's nothing wrong with it. He just came back from his military service, and it was his welcome live so I highly doubt he was trying to shade Jimin or get him hate. There are a lot of moments where I think members should have pondered on their words more before uttering them but this isn't one of those cases.

It's no one's fault that blinks are deranged, not Jin's and not that army's. Yes as an army you should realize certain things should not be tweeted but it's still baffling that she was dragged over a statement that was technically not a drag to Jimin. For repeating exactly what was translated by weverse? "She shouldn't have taken weverse translation as is and should have checked to make sure it was correct"… I guess.

Like how is Jin's statement even a drag? So what if Jimin actually said he forgot how to sing and Jin repeated it? We only know that it would be used as one because we've been fixated on what people say about his vocals. It would have been a lighthearted joke between them and no one with sense would try to use that as shade but being a Jimin anti seems to have stupidity as one of it's requirements so here we are.

I'm all for army-bashing when deserved, but something about the whole thing just weirded me out I'm sorry. And I wish we would just stick to saying she should have known better, which she should have as someone who's been an army for years than claiming she did it on purpose in order to justify the weird tweets directed at her. Like the way pjms were going in, you would think she was elsedonda's side account.

And honestly I just feel like they couldn't do much to that blink account so that army was used as a replacement for their anger. Like how careful can one be with their tweets, every little thing sets the members up according to everyone...

I think pjms have been engrossed in the hate, which of course makes sense because kpop stans won't keep him out of their mouths that they believe everyone's out to get him and there's no way that could have been a genuine mistake on the armys part or no way Jin's statement was harmless when to the average person who isn't an obsessed kpop Stan or angry pjm, it literally is harmless.

But at the end of the day everyone's free to feel however they want and honestly I'm too sick right now and still on my Jimin high to care too much about this whole thing so good luck to everyone lol.

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daughter-of-sapph0 · 1 year

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So what you're saying is it's okay for men to be in lesbian spaces if they are trans?

I mean, if they want to.

literally who gives a fuck?

you've probably never been to a bar because you're acting like a child. but if you have been to a lesbian bar before, you'd know there are drag queens and cis gay men and trans gay men and trans man lesbians and nonbinary he/him lesbians and straight trans women and bisexuals of all variety of genders at every single dyke nite.

"lesbian spaces" as you describe them are just events or communities that are primarily for lesbians, but are inclusive and accepting of everyone. you can't include everyone who is a lesbian while excluding everyone who isn't a lesbian when you can't even decide what you think a lesbian is.

mind you business, log off, and stop trying to involve me in your stupid discourse that most dykes literally do not give a shit about.

#dostxt #asks #anon

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wejustvibing · 9 months

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Just sayin and I’m probably a bit late with the Roscoe comment but that insta clip of him coming to the house was so staged. There is no way he had just arrived. I love Lewis to death but in the past year or 2 alot of what he posts is planed for exposure. The dead beat dad comment was a bit mean but I’m sure Roscoe is at the point now in LA that he really couldn’t care less if Lewis was there or not. Remember the ad done in LA ? And the handler Roscoe had in silverstone this year, Lewis wasn’t even looking after him (stop dragging the ol dog half way across the world just for your own exposure) Sorry not sorry. I want the old party hard Lewis back (before Peni throw PR machine took over)

i thought about ignoring this bc it's incredibly stupid and it's gonna start a discourse but you just melted my heart with "i love lewis to death" so i just have to ask, staged in what way? and what do you mean by exposure? are you saying he's using roscoe for engagement? he's not obligated to document his every move for us. tbh planning social media posts is a part and parcel of being a public personality and especially for those who can't even breathe wrong because you never know when the people loving them to death will start getting offended. that video was posted to accompany seasons greetings from him. it was never claimed to be a livestream so it could literally be from anywhere and day. so i want to understand what's exactly the issue here?

and idk if i even need to state the obvious but he cannot take care of roscoe with his extreme schedule. that's the whole point of him providing roscoe with a stable base and a trainer as he gets older. do you expect him to run around after him on a race week? besides just bc he doesn't have time doesn't mean he can't meet him or travel with him to places where he can? silverstone is his home race and most races from the european leg of the season are easier for him to travel with the dog aka spending time with him. so you have a problem with him trying to spend time with him and putting him up in LA both? get why i called this ask incredibly stupid at the top?

"i want the old party hard lewis back" is another topic of dissertation for another time

#anonymous

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ask-serendipity-sky · 11 months

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That thing with Holland is so sick. I've been seeing armys do bs for a long time but this genuinely made me ill.

Harassing a queer idol because the fetishizers in your fandom won't stop harassing him? Of course he named them, he's obviously getting requests from one group the most. They're so proud of being the biggest kpop ship - they should own this too. Why act innocent and naive now? And they all managed to completely ignore the point he was trying to make about how insane it is that these people are trying to forcefully out their faves even if they were actually not straight.

I just unfollowed every army I used to follow. They're either shifting the blame onto him or staying silent. They'll speak about a bunch of things when they need to virtue signal and it costs them nothing, they'll get into fights about the most stupid stuff with other fandoms, but the moment you can actually use your clout for something and speak on how awful it is that your fandom is essentially bullying a gay artist who we know has gone through so much - literal hate crimes - because he came out, you're completely silent? ARMYs have lost all sense of proportion, logic and morality.

The hypocrisy also strikes me because they'll go around naming pjms every day of the week. They always drag Jimin into fanwars. I don't see anyone saying let's not use his name then other than by solos themselves. But this isn't even the first time they've shielded tkkrs. They'll drag up random accounts with hardly any followers and a handful of likes and talk about solos infecting the fandom but god forbid anyone talk about tkkrs unless it's in the most general way so that you can sweep it away as a shipping thing.

And this discourse about namedropping is also ridiculous. They have 70K+ Jimin anti tkk shipper and 300K+ tkk shipping porn accounts running around freely. They tag JK in all their gross edits on Tiktok. We all saw them waving around the tkk banner during Jimin's bday event. Nobody had much to say about it except Jimin biased.

Plus do they actually think Tae and JK don't know? They just need to look at their comments during their lives to find out what tkk is. What are they even talking about? They've nursed these Jimin anti delusional shippers in their fandom for years but the problem is when others point that out?

I actually prided myself on following a variety of people so I'm never too enmeshed in any one group think. I used to follow ARMYs, shippers, solos and other KPop fandom accounts from my main but I'm done now. I was actually so proud that the fandom was being so active in speaking up about the Palestine cause but if your sense of mortality can't tell you how wrong what is happening now to Holland is and if you are too scared to sacrifice clout to speak up for him, then I can't take anything you say seriously. Sorry to bring up a serious real world issue in the midst of all this but what happened yesterday just tells me that if you can't stand up for a queer idol for petty bs fandom reasons or because you don't want to get involved when you know it's wrong (because I was very careful in curating my tl so I know the armys I used to follow at least have that much sense) then there's no way you'd actually do anything if were to cost you something in real life.

So yeah I still listen to BTS, I still like all the members but I'm done with 'army'.

Hello,

This was a tough read.

I can feel your anger and dissapointment and the only thing I can say is that I feel the same way.

It's "small" things like these that tell you who people really are and they are a sign of the person you could become. It may seem silly because it's kpop but it's real people with real struggles with real hate.

You don't have to be army or pjm or a shipper. None of those names mean a thing at the end of the day. Support what you want and stand up for what you believe.

I get you 🫂

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

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Maria Elena Rios' official statement.

Disclaimer: Google translate is not always accurate.

Mexico City on June 15, 2023.

RELEASE

In my position as a woman and defender of human rights, I have made it clear and they have been able to testify that my person is based on solid principles such as consistency, truth and frankness.

Living in a country where we still have the need to continue changing the laws for a system that does not protect

to women and knowing that while we fight for this, at any moment male privilege can swallow us, is not easy. Despite all this, over the years I have built a voice and I am not going to allow a cowardly statement to try to reduce the violence that Tenoch exerted and continues to exert towards me for continuing to evade

your responsibility.

The statement that Tenoch made on his official Instagram account on June 12, 2023, shows the traditional and typical intimidation techniques of an aggressor and that come from the structures founded from the patriarchy.

Women who find ourselves in a vulnerable emotional process, when having contact with a narcissistic abuser, are dragged into a dynamic where the fear of mockery of our privacy stops us from donating.

The consensual acts at the beginning do not determine that they continue to be consensual all the time because removing the condom without warning IS A CRIME of sexual assault and in English it is known as stealthing.

After my public complaint, several colleagues approached me to share their stories and

unfortunately it is a Modus Operandi that Tenoch has exercised in a normal way for years and that

consists in:

Look for emotionally vulnerable women. Make her feel admired (you are a woman, you are pretty, you are intelligent, I admire you a lot, i have always dreamed of having a girlfriend like you, etc).

Fall in love with them

Earn their trust.

Use them as a sexual trophy.

Abruptly stop communicating and disappear.

Sometimes he goes back to look for her but only to have sex.

Disengage and not take emotional responsibility to later victimize yourself, if necessary.

They seek to clarify things.

This is preceded by a SECT, which apparently functions as a Collective, but which has appropriated an anti-racist discourse to gather a capital of followers and obtain personal ends named Poder Prieto, which protects it and will continue to do so because they are the The only people who can support him in his statements. Within the same group, women members, upon learning of my situation, told me things like:

"That's right, he's very stupid but he's trying to deconstruct himself, I'm sure," one of the actresses who founded it acknowledged before me.

-I listen to you and I listen to myself, I also went through the same thing but it did not affect me so much because I did not fall in love and I understood that it was a lie. Mana, it's that you were the new one in the group, let's say that you had to go through it mana and what he did to you is not cool but well, I'm just starting acting: Tenoch and Maya can recommend me-, another young actress confessed.

The same ones who turned their backs on me and attacked me to defend him.

How to denounce in a Mexican Judicial System if 94.8% of the complaints remain unpunished?

I am a survivor of an attempted femicide with 98% pure sulfuric acid, one of the most extreme towards a woman, after trying to reintegrate myself into society, I personally met Tenoch in December 2021 in a forum of "The first Prieto Festival but it was not until March 30, 2022 when

During a trip to Felipe Carrillo Puerto for a meeting of groups for human rights, we traveled together with other colleagues representing Poder Prieto. He courted me constantly and indeed, his friends from Poder Prieto are witnesses of that but they are not witnesses the intimate relationship I had with him.

During that whole week, I believed in all the nice things he said to me and I fell. I fell in love and it does not give me Shame because everyone gives what they have.

The statement that Tenoch issued tries to make me look like a scorned woman. It took me a lot of work to assimilate and process all these emotions but this does not mean what he wants to imply.

"What a coincidence that until now you say it" "Complaint in the Prosecutor's Office" "You want fame"

"You want money".

Tenoch, in order to victimize himself and confuse me, exerted and continues to exert Gaslighting on me (a pattern of emotional abuse in which the victim is manipulated into doubting their own perception, judgment or memory) and Pity Play (an attitude used by the abuser to distort the true story and appear as the damaged party and thus blame the other party) where the effect of "the flying monkey" arose, a term used in psychology to refer to who helps the aggressor to attack the victim and make her feel guilty. That They did it to me and I have proof of it, that is, all the violence that members of Poder Prieto exercised towards me to protect Tenoch and it is because of this situation that months later led me to leave that group.

In a despicable way, Tenoch tries to intimidate me by hinting that he hired a legal team to initiate the corresponding actions and protect his reputation. The civil route reconciles the parties and unfortunately the violence that I received and continue to receive from you, in Mexico is still not recognized and much less legislated as in other countries.

Psychopathic abuse is a characteristic that whiteness has against racialized people and Tenoch together with members of Poder Prieto, with the appropriation of anti-racist speeches, have exercised it with me and with other people.

Dare to talk about this situation is not easy and Tenoch with the intention of detracting from my statement and legitimate truth, with his lies he has generated hatred and puts himself in danger, since I have received threats to burn myself with acid from fans of the characters he has interpreted in the audiovisual medium. I tell them that I don't want money or fame. All I want is for this violence to stop and to be able to live in peace. The first step is to raise your voice to name them and put a stop to them.

I remind you that nothing justifies threatening, violating and intimidating women for raising their voices. The character is one thing and the person who plays him is another, and being dark-skinned never exonerates you from being a violator who abuses his power.

Companions, don't feel guilty if you also went through this situation with him or with other men. Unfortunately it's part of a shady system. Today we have to make it visible so that tomorrow it stops being an unpleasant reality.

Always firm, always strong because we are women and fear is behind us.

My immediate thoughts:

In my opinion the only situation that could be punishable by law would be the possible "stealthing". But that would be hard to prove.

Everything else is asshole behavior or fuckboy behavior but not a criminal offense.

#maria elena rios #tenoch huerta

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heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon · 6 months

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Yeah, so...Steven Universe Culture still attracts the most abrasive shithead tenderqueers from all sides, I see:

And saiscribbles is a goddamn idiot 40 year old turbovirgin and is probably a vaush enjoyer ...

Put her channel on my "do not recommend" like a week ago after this post happened , saw that Lily Orchard made another video about Hazbin, my eyes rolled into the back of my head when I realized I would probably have to keep lurking around Sais channel for a while anyway if I wanted to see sai covering that because "enemy of my enemy" is still my friend" kinda, got curious, opened a private window to see if she had reacted to Orchard's other Hazbin video yet, she did, chose to view that shit in a private window in case The Bad Baby Meteora Redesign V-Tuber decided to say anything especially heinous in her edging contest with Orchard, and I had to turn that shit off within the hour.. Because surprise surprise, saiscribbles is:

Ableist

Biphobic

ANTI KINK AT PRIDE ...

Which yeah, I just found out because she went on like a major kinkphobic tangent about it an hour into her reaction to Lily, which doesn't help since you can tell that Lily is definitely kinkphobic too, which I'm so glad I just have both channels on my "do not recommend" and now I definitely know that I won't be watching Sai again because at that specific point with Lily's covert anti kink at pride shit and queerphobia and Sai's outright anti kink at pride shit and queerphobia it really does feel like you're watching ...

Which really doesn't help when one of the abrasive lesbian muppets fighting with the other abrasive Indiana Grande lesbian muppet is already baby coded ...

2 Abrasive As Shit Abled-Bodied Butch Lesbian Muppets Who Refuse To Work On Themselves 1 Glass of Water... I wonder who will melt like Paper Jam Dipper first ...

I can't believe I had to use an Alex Hirsch gif again ...

Remember kids...

Daron Nefcy Says Kink at Pride:

Alex Hirsch says Cops at Pride:

Steven Universe cried out "Both Sides! UWU" and then Angel Dust sat down beside him during the parade in full Drag and Kinky boots and said: "STOP CRYING STEVEN UNIVERSE!!!! ;)" *STEALS YOUR VOICE IN ITALIAN* and then Star Butterfly asked Angel how to steal other peoples voices for chaos purposes and then they both started a riot...

Can y'all imagine being an adult and watching Hazbin Hotel while being anti kink at pride though? Or anti kink in general?

Because yeah, anti kink discourse of any kind? Also...

And the fact that I can even make jokes like this with the source materiel just proves how Star vs. The Forces of Evil is still THE GOAT, or maybe even the Rainbow Baphomet in the Gimp Mask that bridges between the dimensions that allow Star and Hazbin to fuck so much. No exceptions.

I wasted time watching a Steven Stans ableist, kinkphobic shit stream when I could've been finishing watching Sailor Moon...

And yes: Finally watching an anime in full for the first time ever, that you've been trying to access since your teen years, which just so happens to be one of the biggest inspirations for your all time favorite cartoon that only came out in your early 20s, in your early 30s, is still a better, healthier, use of time than being an abrasive bitch about Steven Universe in your 40s, no matter what side of that stupid discourse you're on...

#saiscribbles #hazbin hypocritical #Hazbin Hotel #Sailor Moon #svtfoe #star vs. the forces of evil #star vs the forces of evil #star vs #media comprehension #media literacy #undescribed #tag more later maybe ... But you know what? I don't care. I really don't...#tenderqueer #tenderqueers

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waitingforeddyneddy · 1 year

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People mentioned the likes thing cause people were making up their own theories about him based on some stupid likes, that's why! They just wanted you guys to see how it literally means nothing cause she doesn't do it either and you all jumped to conclusions and called it an attack. I don't understand why for some of you calling out homophobia within this fandom means they're watering down racism when, in this case, have no correlation. You can have your own opinions of course but there's no need to overlook this issue. Also, nobody here defended the other cast members cause everybody knows but ok.

For me, it's not normal to be shady towards Simone to defend the white costar and pointing this out doesn't mean watering down the problem of homophobia. I have to be honest the exact opposite happens here a lot. I saw people cry about Simone never liking his posts when there is no need to drag her into it and I saw people dismiss what happened last year as "crazy conspiracy theories". That's disgusting and proves that when you're white and pretty people are always going to have your back and be ready to drag the woc into discourse. You all know what you did when you decided to point out she never likes his posts, stop lying :)

#bridgerton #simone ashley #jonathan bailey

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 309: Gotta Go My Own Way

Previously on BnHA: Muscular was all “well if it isn’t the protagonist on his solo journey of self-discovery, for some reason I’m unironically glad I get to fight you!” Deku was all “hey Muscular before I finish kicking your ass would you please take a moment to answer these two survey questions? Question one, do you regret being a total piece of shit? And question two, if you could do anything at all in the world other than being a total piece of shit, would you?” Muscular was all, “pfft, no and no.” Deku was all, “thanks buddy, your feedback helps make me a better hero, here’s a coupon for fifteen percent off your next ass-whooping.” Then he whooped his ass.

Today on BnHA: Deku is all “what up All Might can you believe you’ve been here this entire time?” All Might is all “I sure can since that’s literally my catch phrase, anyway how are your magic movie 1 gauntlets holding up?” Deku is all “they’re holding up fine, how are Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist doing?” Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist are all “we, your fellow co-conspirators, are also doing fine, thanks for asking!” Flashback!Deku is all “anyway so I secretly have All Might’s quirk and the most dangerous people in the world are after me, so sorry mom but that’s why I’m dropping out of school.” Inko is all “I CAN’T ACCEPT THAT” while totally accepting it. All Might is all “I GUESS WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO ALONG WITH IT SINCE I DON’T FEEL LIKE TRYING TO STOP HIM.” Hawks, Jeanist, and Endeavor, as previously mentioned, are all “yeah that sounds like a good plan”, and Gran is all “see ya kid, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” So basically everyone in the entire world has suddenly teamed up with Deku to defeat AFO, except for the one person whose entire foreshadowed endgame is “teaming up with Deku to defeat AFO.” O Kacchan where art thou.

dear tumblr image limit: okay look. you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. but just as an experiment, I’m gonna try writing this recap with as few images as possible and we’ll see how it goes

(ETA: spoilers for how it went: it didn’t, lol.)

oh my god WHY ARE WE OPENING WITH MORE KETSUBUTSU ACADEMY KIDS.ffs we’d better at least finally get some Ms. Joke content out of this

(ETA: seriously who do I have to bribe.)

so these two KB kids who no one cares about are watching Deku leap away from the scene after dispatching Muscular. but more importantly wtf is this chapter title omg. “I can’t stay being a child” so that’s how it is huh. we’re gonna have feels and we’re going to like them. well then

oh my god he’s hauling Muscular away dhfksklfkh okay this is gonna have to be our first image because I can’t fucking help myself. look at this

just. Deku is so tiny and he’s carting away this massive unconscious lump of a man like it’s nothing why is this so funny to me. it’s like when people buy furniture, and they don’t want to pay extra for delivery and so they’re like, “I can definitely fit this king-sized mattress in the back of my compact sedan if I fold the fucking seat down, idk.” and they refuse to be talked out of it, and the next thing you know you’re watching them drive home with their open trunk door haphazardly tied down with bungee cords, and somehow it fucking works. because it turns out the compact sedan has super strength

anyway for SOME REASON now Horikoshi is all “have fun with that Deku, meanwhile we now return you to your regularly scheduled SHINDOU CONTENT” whyyyyyy

look at this. we’re really using up a whole fucking entire page on everyone arguing over who gets the honor of carrying Shindou

love how the civilians are all, “shit lol is this actually our fault?? quick, how do we play this off all casual like we were the reasonable parties here all along”

turns out all it took to finally get them to listen was making them watch while a kid got his insides ground into a pulp because of their stupidity!! what a heartwarming conclusion to this little standoff

anyways THANK GOD we’re cutting back to Deku now!! well actually we’re cutting back to Muscular who is being dropped off at the police precinct, good bye and good riddance lol

so Deku’s leaving him there and bounding away and okjdlSKFJLKJDSL OH MY GOD

no fucking way. no fucking way this little jaunt is All Might-sanctioned and approved. are you serious?? then who else is in on this?? what the hell is going on

so All Might is just WAITING FOR HIM IN AN ALLEY FFF WHO ARE YOU, JIM GORDON. or would Alfred be a better analogy here?? but like, Alfred if he ditched the suit for a moto jacket and shades

this new ensemble of All Might’s may or may not severely impact my ability to take this forthcoming conversation seriously; please stand by

also, quite the spectacular landing there, Deku. seriously lol what was that

“HOW ARE YOUR LIMBS” “THANKS TO YOU THEY’RE COMPLETELY FINE” I’M SORRY WHAT

LOL WHAT. “THANKS TO THE POWER OF THESE MAGIC GLOVES” OH I SEE THAT EXPLAINS IT

are these the same gauntlets from the first movie, then? well that’s all well and good, except that now there’s going to be more Deku Discourse than fucking ever lol. so if it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna once again go ahead and declare this week’s post a discourse-free zone, at least when it comes to the specific discourse of Deku’s merits as a MC, and the impact that him kicking ass and having working arms has on said merits. this has been something of a low mental energy week for me, so I’d rather reserve the energy I do have for more fun topics, such as All Might’s bitchin’ leather jacket

anyway so All Might’s saying that the gauntlets will help reinforce Deku’s arms, but they can’t withstand OFA at 100%. so basically it’s a support item designed to maintain the status quo lol. we’re basically in the same situation we were before, arm-capability-wise

homg All Might’s getting a call. time to see who else is in on Operation: Deku Alone?? or not so alone for that matter

omg

HI HAWKS, WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS

(ETA: seriously are they really gone for good?? why would he even be back on active duty then?? does he have his own American ex-boyfriend who can hook him up with exclusive support items?? dammit Horikoshi we want answers.)

looks like Jeanist and Endeavor are teaming up as well, just like they said they would. I would gladly follow this trio around all day long tbh

is this the same giant villain from the very first chapter??

looks like it to me, and it would tie in with that callback from the end of chapter 306. we all thought that was Muscular, but maybe it was this guy, and Deku left these three to deal with him while he ran off to take Muscular down

oh my god now Deku is running off again just like that

kids these days

ffffff I have not had nearly enough sleep to follow along with whatever tf Hawks is talking about here sob

like, is he trying to say that All Might is keeping Deku’s whereabouts unknown to anyone except for him?? in order to keep him safe?? but Hawks is pointing out that that’s a bad strategy and probably won’t do shit against AFO and it’s better if he lets Deku work with the rest of them?

(ETA: so @hanashimas’ translation makes a lot more sense -- it’s not All Might who’s being overprotective, but Deku. in other words he’s trying not to drag All Might into his battles. and in addition Hawks is saying that their strategy is to take the offensive and go after AFO themselves rather than wait for him to come to them. which I’m not too sure about myself, but that’s another topic for another day.)

btw I can’t help thinking how much better this entire conversation would be if All Might was still wearing his sunglasses. put them back on my dude. it’s not too late. embrace your inner badass

DKLJSLDKFJL FLASHBACK ALERT, FUCKING FINALLY

“turns out, we were just trying to scare you straight. fuck lot of good that did though lol”

also what is this. one true love: the hospital bed. is that a scanlator joke or is Horikoshi actually that funny omg

SKLJDFLJLK

ITSA ME!! omg I love this hospital so much. though it’s sure not helping me in my quest to try and keep this post below ten images. I’m already up to eleven haha r.i.p. to me if tumblr doesn’t get its shit together

whaaaaaat, so he’s saying that Deku’s injuries were external (i.e. Tomura beating the shit out of him) rather than internal this time?? whaaaaat. excuse me but that’s some bullshit lmao. believe me, I was there

okay now he’s going on to explain that Deku’s “internal structure” seems to have been protected from the inside and out, and the corresponding panel seems to be implying that using Blackwhip as a brace paid off. huh

and also that his body is just stronger now?? so I guess he’s better able to withstand the quirk after an additional year of training?? I’M NOT SURE IF I BUY ANY OF THIS LOL but I’m willing to suspend my disbelief

OH MY GOD RED ALERT, INKO IS ASKING ALL MIGHT TO EXPLAIN WTAF DEKU’S QUIRK IS, IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGG

SO HE’S EXPLAINING IT TO HER OFF-SCREEN, AND INKO IS JUST LIKE

I GUESS THAT’S FAIR LOL. IT’S TRUE INKO I’M SO SORRY, YOUR SON IS A PROGATONIST R.I.P.

AHHKKJH DEKU ANGST IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGGGG

what is this soft pop beat that’s suddenly being pumped in over the speakers. I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON~ AND BE WHO~ I~ AM~~~, I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAND. also, follow-up question, when is Kacchan finally going to come back so he can jump in with the “WHAT ABOUT US~~~” bridge, huh. come the fuck on, Horikoshi

lmao All Might jesus christ

but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision...

anyway, yes!! finally that sweet, sweet “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger” angst!!

mmm that’s good angst Brent. Kacchan with center panel honors as usual, you love to see it. anyways though who do I have to yell at to get Deku a goddamn HUG around here seriously

so Inko is of course reacting with panic, and sensibly saying that she doesn’t approve of Deku’s “RUN AWAY AND FIGHT THE BAD GUYS ALL ON MY OWN, DON’T WORRY MOM I’LL JUST GET STRONGER, EASY AS PIE, IT’S A FOOLPROOF STRATEGY” plan

son of a bitch this manipulative green asshole is really gonna sit here and smile fondly at his mom and try to convince her that he’s Not A Little Kid Anymore. the hell you’re not mister

y'all are really just gonna sit there and let him talk you into this?? surely it can’t be that easy??

OH MY GOD

THE FEELS oh my god oh my god. BUT ALSO YOU’RE SERIOUSLY JUST GOING TO COLLAPSE INTO HIS ARMS SOBBING AND LET HIM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS LKJLJLFK. WHERE ARE ALL THE STRICT PARENTS AT?? AIZAWA, GANG ORCA, MITSUKI, SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND TELL DEKU TO SIT HIS ASS THE FUCK DOWN. NOW LISTEN HERE YOUNG MAN!!

“EVEN IF I TRY TO STOP YOU YOU’LL STILL LEAVE” WELL SURE, IF BY “TRY TO STOP HIM” YOU MEAN POLITELY TRY TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT FOR THREE SECONDS. HE’S SIXTEEN WTF WHEN DID HE BECOME THE BOSS OF YOU ALL. SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME AND TELL HIM HE’S GROUNDED

anyway sob so that’s the story of how Deku talked his parents into letting him drop out of school, and even convinced All Might to be his own personal Guy In The Chair. holy shit. this kid really went and rolled a nat 20 and the rest of them had no choice but to fold without argument

meanwhile here’s a panel of Best Jeanist trying to braid his phone into his hair just cuz

I’m dying to know which part of his language he considers to be crude here. you literally didn’t even use a contraction my guy

so now flashback!Deku is talking to Gran in the dark, and Gran is all “can you believe I’m not fucking dead yet lol that’s too funny. anyway, you sure I can’t interest you in killing Tomura after all?? no?? okay then here’s my cape.” truly a heartwarming scene

I’m kind of torn here tbh. on the one hand, my adhd ass wasn’t all that interested in sitting down and having an extended scene between these two when there’s so much else that I want to get to. but on the other hand, even I can admit that cramming this entire reunion into a single page seems just a BIT rushed. idk. like maybe someone can let Horikoshi know it’s a marathon and not a race. Deku didn’t even get any dialogue here, some of us want to know his thoughts!! but anyway

AND JUST LIKE THAT?!

how did all four of them let him con them into this. I literally just watched it happen and I still can’t figure out how. “I GUESS THIS SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT IS OUR LEADER NOW” ffflfjf. when Aizawa finds out he’s gonna go apeshit. AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU KATSUKI, WHO I HAVE BEEN ASSURED DOES IN FACT STILL EXIST. WHAT ABOUT USSSSS, WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH. WHAT ABOUT TRUST???! YOU KNOW I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOUUUUU

btw lol don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this, and I’m honestly glad Deku’s not alone because that would suck for him! but that said, Hawks and Jeanist have lost any credibility they might have once had as far as being The Responsible Ones, and as for All Might and Endeavor, fucking hell lol. everyone just deposited all of their fucks in a bank somewhere for safekeeping and decided to never look back. godspeed you mad lads

#bnha 309 #midoriya izuku #all might #midoriya inko #gran torino #hawks #best jeanist #endeavor #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #petition for kacchan to form his own dynamic battle squad whose sole purpose is hunting down deku and talking some sense into him #if deku gets to drop out of school and make his own rules than so do we #what do you say icyhot are you in #actually can you just text your dad and ask him where deku is #maybe save us all some trouble

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one-boring-person · 4 years

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Requested by: @phantomshadow13

Someplace.

John Rambo (First Blood) x reader

Warnings: anxiety, mention of death

Masterlist

My leg jitters slightly as I watch John interact with the woman at the washing line, my lip between my teeth again as I bite more and more marks into the chapped skin. A dull ache has spread through my body from the long walk, but I've managed to keep it at bay and ignore it, having gotten used to doing this years ago, when it was more than necessary to do so. Despite this, I find myself hoping that our journey is finally at an end, and that we'll have found John's old comrade here, and that he'll let us stay with him, until we figure something better out. Looking at the way the conversation is going, however, I'm not too confident in this.

Quietly, I follow the discourse with my eyes, glancing around every now and then, distrusting of my surroundings, even though I have no reason to be, trying to ignore the gentle tremor that's started to set into my hands. A metallic taste lingers on my tongue from my near-constant lip chewing, a little dried blood encrusting some of the worst areas, but it's not noticeable, at least not to a stranger. John, of course, has noticed, and asked about it, too. I'd made up some excuse, but I know he sees right through it, like he does with all falsities.

Across from me, I catch sight of John's shoulders slumping, his lean form losing some of the energy he had before we got to the tiny village. Swallowing, I know instinctively that something is wrong, my leg jittering much more noticeably as I shift where I stand, watching as he comes over. The dark-haired man briefly makes eye contact with me, before he jerks his head, gesturing for me to follow, leading me away from the settlement. His expression is solemn, lidded eyes bright with a new sadness that wasn't there before.

Worried, I follow after him, staying silent as I hurry to keep up with his faster stride until we've reached the road again, leaving the picturesque village behind. Immediately, John starts off in the direction we were previously going, feet dragging a little as he goes, hands shoved in his pockets again.

"John?" I call out to him, my voice shaky, "John? What happened? Where's Delmar?"

John glances at me, noticing my uneasy state as he always does, his eyes softening a little at this.

"Delmar's gone." Is all he says, waiting for me to fall into step beside him.

I frown a little, tilting my head as I try to ignore the small jump in my pulse.

"Gone? Gone where? When will he be back?" I query, pushing my own hands into my pockets to conceal the tremor from my observant companion.

A flash of a wry smile goes across his face, some unknown thing briefly amusing him before he replies.

"He ain't coming back. He's dead." The veteran murmurs to me, knowing I'll hear his slightly slurred speech and be able to understand him perfectly.

I'm left speechless, my head struggling to grasp at something to say, unable to understand.

"D-dead? How?" I can't help the stammer in my voice, very much aware of the tension flooding my body, further accentuating the tremor in both my leg and hands.

"Cancer, apparently." John informs me, looking down at his boots as he continues on along the path.

"Cancer…" I mumble to myself, stopping momentarily as I feel a cold sweat break out across my forehead, a sense of hopelessness flooding me now. What are we supposed to do? There's nowhere we can go, nowhere we can stay. Neither of us have that much money, and we have barely any food on our person at this moment.

Already, I can feel my breathing picking up, the air coming out in short, sharp bursts, my pulse thumping heavily now as I try to keep it all at bay, failing in this as I feel the tremor get worse. Unable to focus, I don't quite hear John calling out to me, my eyes fixed on the road ahead, unseeing as I stand there, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Vaguely, I notice him come over to me, the lean man carrying an expression of worry and concern, his head tilted to get a proper look at me.

"(Y/n)?" His voice breaks through the haze in my head, somewhat pulling me out of the state of panic I'm in, jerking me from the fog in my head.

I don't respond, my muscles continuing to tremble as I fight to control myself, each breath harsh and nearly painful as it rushes into my lungs, the sweat now coating the back of my neck. Tense, I stand, almost rigid apart from the shaking, where I am, staring blindly at a point on the horizon.

"(Y/n), look at me." John tries again, dropping his stuff as he reaches out to me, not quite touching, his dark eyes fixed on me.

Somehow, his rough voice manages to somewhat snap me out of my trance, my eyes flicking up to meet his, swiftly dropping to the floor again. Seeing this, John places his hand on my arm, glad to see I don't flinch away from him anymore, like I had the first time this happened, the muscular man dipping his head down a little to reach my level. Unable to avoid him, I make eye contact again, easily losing myself in those near-black depths, finding safety there.

"Look, (Y/n), I'm here. You're ok, we're gonna be ok. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you, or us. We'll be totally fine." He murmurs to me, his tone soft as he gently pulls me to the side of the road, his other hand coming up to rest on my other arm, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into my tense muscles.

I don't say anything, my breathing still ragged as I stare at him, reassurance from his touch seeping into me.

"Come on, (Y/n), breathe for me." John softly orders me, "In and out, nice and slow. Take your time, stay focused on my voice. In...and out. Good."

Breathing in time with his words, I start to regulate my exhalations better, tension starting to lessen slightly, the tremor sulking a little as I feel myself fall into a better pattern.

"There, you're doing great. Keep going, in and out…" He keeps this up, encouraging me until my breathing is back to normal, meaning I'm able to speak.

"Th-thanks." I stutter, embarrassed at myself, still trying to calm my racing mind, pushing back the plaguing thoughts from before.

"Anytime." He gives me one of his rarer, gentle smiles, the crooked expression sending butterflies through me, as it always has.

"I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't...that was stupid…" I try to apologise, groping for words again, only for him to cut me off.

"Don't apologise, (Y/n). It isn't your fault." He assures me, tilting his head momentarily, noting the tension still lingering in my body, "C'mere."

My eyes widen as he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me to crush me into his chest, his hands splayed on my body. Instinctively, I reciprocate it, a feeling of warmth flowing through me as he rubs my back, his face burying into my hair as he tightens his grip, trying to get me to relax into him. Knowing this is rare, I allow myself to melt into his embrace, relishing in the comforting scent that surrounds me: sweat, fresh air and crushed evergreen needles from the trees we passed a couple of hours ago. Pressing my face into his chest, I sigh, the last of the tension dissipating along with the tremor, his soothing movements drawing out any painful knots. His dark hair brushes against my face as he holds me closer, making sure I'm totally relaxed before he pulls back a little, keeping one arm around my waist as he lifts one to my face.

With a slight frown, John lightly draws his thumb across my lip, pulling it away to inspect. A thin layer of blood coats the pad of the sight, my lip stinging now to let me know I bit it much harder than I thought I had. He doesn't say anything, only making eye contact with me again as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Heat rises along my skin where his lips touch me, my eyes briefly closing as he lingers there, clearly as unwilling to let go as I am.

The sound of a honking truck snaps us apart, the taller man pushing me behind him out of instinct, ready for action. He soon relaxes as he remembers there is no danger letting go of me as we watch the large vehicle roar past, the driver shouting something at us as he goes. Frowning, I swallow and glance back at John, wishing we hadn't been interrupted.

"Where do we go now?" I ask quietly, stepping up beside him as he picks up his stuff again.

John looks back at me, starting to walk off in the right direction with me following on.

"Someplace." He replies, smiling at me again as I fall into step beside him.

After a moment, his hand slips into mine and his fingers loop through mine, squeezing me gently as we walk. Reassured by his touch, I manage to keep my slight anxiety at bay, knowing we'll be fine as long as we're together.

#rambo x reader #rambo imagine #rambo #john rambo #John Rambo x reader #sylvester stallone #sly Stallone

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years

Text

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30.

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat.

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face.

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago.

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums.

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer.

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee.

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers.

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat.

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now."

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill...

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering.

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here.

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more.

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you.

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again.

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

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