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apomaro-mellow · 11 months

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5 times eddie singled out steve during a concert and the one time steve did it back

Corroded Coffin fans were no strangers to the deep love shared between frontman Eddie and his boyfriend Steve. To the point where magazines barely cared to feature any candid pics of them unless Eddie was flipping off the camera. "Two Very in Love People Share a Kiss at Cafe Date" didn't really sell much when it was the 50th story like that.

So when Eddie slowed things down in the middle of the concert, getting that very familiar 'heart eyes' look.

"I know my baby's in the audience. Even though he has a very comfortable room backstage. Show me where you are beautiful." Eddie's voice was slightly rough from the first half of songs.

His eyes scanned the audience until he heard a bunch of screaming from his right. The crowd was vibrating and he knew someone had spotted Steve.

"There you are." Eddie bit his lip, grin threatening to split his face. "This next one's for you."

The crowd was a mix of screams and awws as the beginning melody of It's Always Been You was heard.

2. Another day, another venue. This time, the afternoon crowd at a music festival. It was one of Eddie's favorite kind of scenes. People of all types, letting the music take them in broad daylight. A good mix of diehard fans, casuals, and people who had never heard them play before.

Eddie knew for a fact that Steve was sitting in a little foldable chair, with some drink from one of the booths. He always looked so unassuming with his soft hair and even softer clothes. But Eddie could never let him forget his inner badass. Nor did he let anyone else forget.

"Lil pop quiz for my fans", Eddie started. "One of our fan favorites The Knight's Arrival is inspired by someone very special in my life. Can we get a chant going for the man who has always been my knight in shining armor?"

A very enthusiastic chant for Steve started and Eddie thought his heart might burst. It was like a triumphant reprisal of those times the school would cheer on the ex-king on game night.

3. Sometimes the band put an age restriction on a concert. Now Eddie was of the mind that children didn't need to be coddled or have things censored for them. But also, he didn't need to lay it all out when there was a kid in the audience.

It was these kinds of shows that Eddie let it all hang out. More than one song was inspired by his nights with Steve. His angel's voice even featured on one track, letting out husky moans as Eddie brought him to the brink in the recording booth.

And tonight Eddie was hot. Hot enough to have already taken his shirt off and throw it to the audience. Hot enough that when he went backstage and saw Steve, he was only thinking of one thing. Eddie kissed him deep, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth before a word could leave his lips.

Crash was keeping the audience going with a drum performance. One that started with a simple beat that slowly intensified.

"I want them to hear you", Eddie said against Steve's mouth.

Steve's hair was already tangled in his hair. "You wanna dangle me in front of them?", he smirked.

"Show them you're mine", Eddie started nibbling at his jaw. "Show 'em how good I love you down."

Eddie got the headset mic rigged onto Steve. His sweet boy was already hard, just as turned on from seeing Eddie in his element as he ever was. Eddie slid down to his knees and unzipped his boyfriend's pants.

It started quiet. Not even audible as Crash really got going on the drums and got close to the climax. The room erupted as he reached the end. And it was in the calming of their cheers that they finally began to hear it.

"Eddie, mmmfuck."

They stirred in unison. Steve's voice rang loud and clear as he received a pleasure the rest of them could only speculate on.

"Fuck, sso good. Don't stop. Don't stop-ahh."

For a moment all they heard was Steve's quickening breaths before he called out Eddie's name, dragging it out like he was falling down a well.

Eddie came out moments later, licking something off his lips to cacophonous cheers. The bassline to Take a Bite began. He wished he could've told his high school self that one day he'd get a standing ovation for blowing a guy.

4. "Before we get started tonight I gotta make an announcement!", Eddie came out, already on 100. "First, where's my angel baby. Help me find him."

As usual, a particular part of the audience went wild and moved in a way that could only mean Steve was there.

"Can I get a parting of the Red Sea?", Eddie asked, moving his hands apart and getting that part of the mob to split like Moses. Steve stood there in the middle.

"Get used to that gorgeous. My fellow rockers, scholars, and mischief makers - I am officially a kept man." He flashed the ring on his finger to a din of screams. "Wedding's next fall and we're registered at every corner liquor store! 5-6-7-8!"

5. Eddie felt like he was home. In the middle of a set, shredding in a way that made him feel alive. The current song made it even better. One of the best collaborative efforts of the band. All of their fingerprints were on this track.

The crowd was just as amped up, giving back everything they got. There truly was no place he'd rather be.

Then he caught sight of his Steve, standing just off stage in the wings. And he was overcome. None of this would be possible without him. And even if Eddie and his boys somehow made it to stardom, it all meant nothing without his sweetheart.

Eddie casually walked over, fingers still moving as he got closer to Steve. He only took his hands off his guitar to grab his fiance and dip him as they kissed. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck. This wasn't his first time being kissed on stage.

And just as other times, the crowd went wild, while Jeff, Gareth, and Crash rolled their eyes through the playing.

6. Steve watched, absolutely lovestruck as Eddie sat on the couch, eating cereal. Dustin's baby, little Deana was propped up on cushions next to him, clearly satisfied as she sat there content. They were uncles babysitting for the weekend.

Steve walked over and grabbed the remote from off the coffee table, holding it like a mic. "All the babes out there, are you ready to rock?", he pointed to Deana.

Her new eyes got large at the movement and sound and her little fists waved in the air.

"But before I go on, I gotta give special love to someone tonight", Steve turned his gaze to Eddie. "To the greatest thing since sliced bread, I could watch you eat Coco Puffs all day."

"You're such a cornball", Eddie beamed, cheeks turning pink. "Can't believe you're doin it in front of a baby."

"Oh, don't tell me the god of rock is getting bashful? So when I wanna shout you out in front of our niece, it's cheesy. But when you call me out in front of thousands-"

"Shut up and kiss me." Eddie put the half finished bowl on the floor and grabbed Steve by the wrist, pulling him right into his lap.

Steve let out a little breath between kisses. "Dustin's gonna have a fit if he finds out we made out in front of his baby."

"What he don't know won't hurt him."

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #can u believe this was inspired by going to a kpop concert?#brains are crazy #but yeah this was born from thinkin of eddie giving a bj backstage #while performing #and everyone hearing steve's moans

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

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I'm so glad u liked the idea of the shanks shenanigans! All I can think about is him going "WHERE THE HELL is this woman?"

Where is my bride?

Thank you for propelling the Shanks thought. I love it and its made my mind dance a little bit. Allow me to share a small glimpse of where his little plot is leading my mind away. @sordidmusings & @feral-artistry, thank you for always hearing my thoughts before I run with them like a mad woman.

Here is the direction I'm running with: snippet under the cut!

Shanks awoke in a cold sweat, his mind racing with the cool chill of horrifying thoughts that began to once again plague him.

The eyes. There was something in the eyes. Those haunting eyes that had consumed his thoughts with visions of his own mortality. His heart began to bind, a covenant once again sealing his fate with the circlet of gold he thought once was lost. No whisper of a face, nor semblance of a name were granted to him. Only those eyes.

The only sound that rang in his ears was a laugh akin to the greatest melody and a soft whisper of appreciation. Shanks closed his eyes, focussing on the words coming to him. He hung on every single one of the words springing into his thoughts, his fist balled and lying firmly on his right knee.

"What a beautiful ring, Luffy! Thank you, Captain. I will cherish it always." The melodic laugh relayed and echoed within the chasms of his mind. He furrowed his brows in deep focus, searching for more words to hold firm to.

"Let's make it interesting, huh? I'll wait at the chapel and by the sun meeting the horizon, setting its light over the ocean on the seventh day - I will wed the next person to ask me. Always wanted to get married, and what a fun way to do it. Seven days should give Zoro enough time to recover, no?"

Shanks' eyes reopened: meeting with a spectre of a woman of unspeakable horrors.

Eyes as deep as the sea; pupil-less and unblinking, hair as black as ink and skin as pale and grey as the clouds that split the storm over the ocean.

"Seven days, Red-Hair Shanks," Her otherworldly voice hissed its warning at him, "And I will lay claim to your soul."

"Sapsorrow," Shanks whispered, continuing to stare into her transparent form as it faded from vision in tufts of scentless smoke, "I will find her. Mark my words, witch. I will find her."

"May the sea carry you home to her, Captain," The spectre spoke, a bitter and haunting laugh followed and shook the walls of the captain's quarters.

Shanks flung the duvet from his body, his bare feet finding the floor and carrying him above.

"All hands! All hands to the deck!" He shouted, running to begin releasing the rigging from the mast and unrolling the sheets. Beckman was the first to arise at the commotion.

"Where's the battle, Captain?" He roared, his grey eyes scanning over the sea for an incoming enemy.

"Sapsorrow, Becks," He stuttered, his eyes wide and frantic, "Seven days until she kills me. Gotta find her." Beckman stepped closer to his captain, searching his wild eyes and witnessing his hair sticking to his paled forehead under the glue of sweat.

"I've got to find my bride and wed her in seven days."

#one piece #one piece live action #opla #x reader #opla fic #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks fairytale au #shanks sapsorrow au #red hair shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #sapsorrow au

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v3nusstardust · 3 months

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💋🕹️“RIGGED” 🕹️💋

Pairing : BF!Niki Nishimura x reader

Genre : Fluff 🫶🐇

A/n : srry I haven’t uploaded 🙇 I’m depressed LMFAO (real)

🎀

The bustling arcade was filled with bright neon lights, lively sounds of game machines and clinking tokens. Rows of arcade games lined the room, each one with its own set of flashing screens and joysticks. Hand in hand, you walked around with your boyfriend Niki. Niki’s big, soft hands provided a comforting warmth as they enveloped yours. His thumb traced gentle patterns on your fingers and palms.

The scent of popcorn and the sweet aroma of cotton candy flowed through the air from the snack counter. The ambiance was electric, with the combined sounds of electronic music and game effects creating a euphoric atmosphere. “What do you want to do first?” Niki asked."Uhh... I'm not sure. Where's the rest of your group? I could've sworn Jake was just behind us," you chuckled. Niki shook his head, his warm smile accompanying his response, "Nah. All six of them already went off doing their own thing."

You scanned the arcade looking for a fun game, but something far more intriguing caught your eye. "NIKI." Your grip on his hand tightened as your body tensed with excitement. Niki gave you a puzzled look, trying to find whatever you were so interested in.

"Hello Kitty Claw Machine!" you exclaimed, pulling Niki and running towards the claw machine. You pressed your palms against the glass of the machine, staring at all the cute plushies. The one that mainly caught your eye was the My Melody plush. It was in a cute bear costume, an adorable light baby pink color.

"Darling, you have a lot of plushies at home," Niki tried his best to persuade you. You turned your head and dangerously glared at him. "Yeah, but I don't have a My Melody, and I really want it!" you whined with an adorable pout that Niki couldn't resist. "I know how worked up you get with these machines," Niki said, trying to reason with you.

“Not even!” you argued back, determined to try your luck. The memory of you raging on a claw machine played in your head, and you let out a small giggle at the recollection. With a grin, Niki finally gave in, “Alright, let’s go for it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you about the claw’s tricks.” The excitement on your face intensified as you eagerly inserted tokens into the machine.

As the claw descended, you held your breath, eyes fixed on the My Melody plush. The claw closed around it, but just as it began to lift, the plush slipped from its grasp and tumbled back into the pile. Disappointment washed over your face as you sighed, realizing that this time, the claw machine had outsmarted you. “See, it's rigged,” Niki said leaning against the glass. “Okay wait. Give me more tokens, now I’m determined.” you said in a serious tone, your eyes glued to the pink melody plush.

Undeterred, you decided to give it another shot. With renewed determination, you inserted more tokens and focused on the claw's descent. Each attempt seemed promising, but the elusive My Melody plush slipped through the claw's grasp every time. Your frustration grew, but you couldn't resist the challenge.

"Maybe it's just bad luck today," Niki suggested, trying to ease the disappointment. Ignoring the odds, you insisted on trying two more times, but the result remained the same – the plush danced just out of reach, mocking your attempts.

You sighed, staring at the melody plush. You thought Niki would say, “I told you it’s rigged .” but surprisingly, he didn’t. You looked up at him through your lashes. Your sad face was so gentle and cute, it made his heart ache.

Niki rolled up his sleeves and theatrically cracked his knuckles. “What are you doing..?” you asked. “I’m getting you My Melody, sweetheart.” he smiled at you. As Niki extended his arm into the claw machine, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "Niki, are you …are you sure about this?" you managed to say through fits of laughter. Undeterred, he replied with a grin, "I got this. My Melody is not escaping me." With careful precision, Niki maneuvered his arm among the plushies, reaching for the coveted My Melody. “I got it!” he exclaimed. You and Niki both bubbled with laughter. “LOVE, LOVE , MY ARM IS STUCK.” Niki cackled.

You kneeled down and helped Niki remove his arm from the machine. Both of you were filled with joy and laughter. As you helped Niki, you heard familiar voices behind you. "What are y'all doing?!" Jake erupted with laughter. It was Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay. You and Niki were laughing so hard you couldn’t even make up words. You helped Niki gently pull his arm out, ensuring he didn't get hurt.

Thankfully, the arcade mishap hadn't caused any harm, and as Niki extracted his arm, he revealed a small pink My Melody plush in his hand, just for you. Niki’s smile widened as he placed it in your hand. “YAY!” you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. In a spontaneous burst of joy, you jumped on him, causing both of you to tumble onto the floor.

As you and Niki lay on the arcade floor, still giggling, Jake made sure to capture a picture of yall’s cute moment. This was something you’d remember forever.

(a/n : ik this is simple but lmk if you liked🧚🏼‍♀️😏)

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whatsnewalycat · 10 months

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Passenger / Chapter 3

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter Three: IL -> WY

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Chapter Summary: Charlie graduates to the front seat. Din reluctantly buys donuts. They both continue to think they're way smarter than the other.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.2k+

Content / Warnings: modern-day au, alternating pov, second person pov, slow burn, vagabond ofc, dog grogu, enemies to lovers, bounty hunting, drug mention, being held captive, swearing, lack of privacy and autonomy, animal neglect mention, tip-toeing around having to take a dump, food mention, death threat, knife mention, gun mention, police mention, playing guitar and singing, targeted extermination (crimes against humanity??) mention, deathwish

Notes: You look cute today. Hope you like it, thanks for reading!

For almost half his life, Din woke up in his rig alone each morning. The bray of his alarm started at 7:00am, saws against his bones jolting him conscious.

Since the dog has joined him on the road, Din’s alarm has been preceded by whines for attention, sometimes even before the sun rises. If he tries to ignore the noise, it escalates to wet laps against his face, which serves as a pretty effective snooze button.

Today it’s not the alarm or the dog that wakes him, but the mellow resonance of an acoustic guitar. It creeps at the edge of his sleeping state and gently nudges him out of dreamland, back into the driver’s seat of his truck. His eyes blink open to find the world outside still steeped in blue left over from nighttime. It suits the melancholic chords you strum from behind him.

You start to sing in a voice so quiet, he’s not sure whether you’re singing actual words or just vocalizing. Either way, his chest sinks. He lays there, heavy-limbed and fuzzy-headed, watching wispy, dreamsicle clouds suspended in the atmosphere.

The dog joins in with a drawn out, dramatic groan, which you react to with bubbling laughter, asking, “Are you trying to sing, too?”

“Boof.”

“What a lovely singing voice you have, little pup,” you coo. The strumming ceases and there’s a hollow thunk as you set the guitar aside to give all your attention to the dog.

Din looks at the tablet on his dash and reads the time as 6:12am. He sits up straight in his seat, stretching his frustrated spine before sliding on his sunglasses and turning to the sleeper cab.

The dog is nestled into the cradle of your crossed legs, happily accepting belly scratches. Your glowing, rosy-cheeked smile falters a little when you glance up and see Din rising to his feet, and you remark, “Look at that, we made it through the night with no bloodshed.”

He nods in response, unsure what to say.

The dog notices his presence and starts flopping around until he successfully makes it onto all fours, then jumps onto the floor and starts pawing at Din’s boots. When he crouches down to pet him, the dog jumps up and starts licking his face.

“Hey now, four on the floor,” Din grumbles, pushing him back until he resigns to a sitting position with a huff. He rewards the dog by scratching between his big ears, “There we go. Good boy.”

“Where we headed today?” you pick your guitar back up and absentmindedly play a gentle melody, “My certain fate?”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you just keep talking.

“How long does it take to get to Portland? That’s where you’re taking me, right?”

This time, you stare at him and wait for an answer. He meets your gaze, then drops it to your guitar, reading a few of the sharpied signatures on its face as he says, “Nebraska to deliver this load. Then head West, see where we end up. We won’t get to Portland until tomorrow or the next day.”

“Ah,” you wince down at your guitar, then sigh, “Well, rule number five.”

“Rule number five?”

“Live in the now.”

Din stands there, expecting you to say more, almost wishing you would say more about what you mean by rules and your certain fate. But you don’t.

So he shifts forward onto his knees and reaches under the bed, typing the key code into the safe while you twist the little knobs at the head of your guitar and give each string a few test plucks.

You start a new song, and a dim sense of nostalgia creeps up his neck.

He pictures the apartment he lived in as a kid. Windows cracked open to release the lemon-scented cleaning solution fumes. This song broadcasting out from a record player, his mom singing along from the kitchen as she scrubbed the floor, the same lyrics you sing now:

“Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door—”

“That’s enough,” he snips.

The music stops abruptly.

“Not a big Guns ‘n’ Roses fan?”

He grabs his keychain from the safe and slams it closed, “Bob Dylan.”

“Touché,” you watch him as he stands and turns to unlock the ratchet strap, “You know, that’s actually the version I was playing, but I figured you’d think—“

“Look, I just want some quiet, ok?”

A few moments go by before you scoff and mutter under your breath, “Not a morning person. Noted.”

Well.

There’s good news and bad news.

The good news is your captor let you keep your notebook and pen. You were also able to play your guitar and sleep in a bed. And while this man’s mattress is not a luxury by any means, it sure as hell beats sleeping strapped into an adult-sized booster seat.

Which brings you to the bad news.

You’re strapped into the aforementioned adult-sized booster seat again. Also, the man has reverted to ignoring every single thing you say. And, of course, there’s the looming threat of Portland…

But you think you might have a way out.

Your captor doesn’t seem to be as horrible a person as you thought. Which is to say that he hasn’t tried to sexually assault or murder you yet. A very low bar, but still.

While it’s clear to you that his only goal is to complete the job he took by turning you in, he didn’t have to let you keep your switchblade. He didn’t have to let you sleep in his bed. In fact, you suspect he did those things because he felt bad for you being in this shitty situation.

Which tells you one crucial thing about him: He has a heart.

This is your way out.

Getting strangers to trust you is a song and dance you have to perform frequently. The unbroken overnight truce between you and the man may only be a small building block of trust, but you think you can work with it. And you’re not sure where, or how, but you believe that if you can get him to trust you, even a little, the opportunity to escape will present itself.

RULE #7: Keep your options open.

So this time, when he backs up to the receiving warehouse to offload the trailer, you pull the switchblade from your bra and toss it into the open space between the driver and passenger’s seat. You show him you understand the rules and you’re willing to comply.

The man gives you a nod of thanks before grabbing the blade and tucking it in his pocket.

Pen to paper, you pass the time while he’s gone scribbling about your journey these past few days. The dog whines and ping-pongs from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s seat, his flat snout fogging up the windows. You try to soothe his worry by cooing reassurances to him and giving him scratchies when he comes within your reach, but he mostly ignores you.

When the man returns from offloading the trailer, he shoos his excited friend over to the passenger’s seat and swings the door closed with a thunk.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

“Fine.”

He pulls off his aviators and scrubs his gloved hands over his face. The dog jumps onto his lap and starts licking his mouth. The man grimaces and blocks the ambush, but laughs, “Ugh, yeah, hello.”

This is the first time you’ve witnessed a smile across his face. It digs out dimples in his cheeks and brightens his features tenfold. And, as a result, you find yourself smiling, too.

“He was nervous when you were gone,” you tell him, “Just ran back and forth between the windows trying to see where you were.”

The man nods, dimming his smile a tad, but scratches the dog’s head and rubs his big bat-like ears.

“Ok, that’s enough,” he declares, then plucks the dog off his lap and drops him in the passenger’s seat.

Certain things are inevitable in life.

Included among these are: Death, change, failure… and, unfortunately for you, bodily functions.

After lunch, while your captor pours dog food into a bowl for the pup, then starts to prepare the cabin for the next leg of its journey, your guts clench and twist. Heat floods your cheeks as its meaning dawns on you.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Give me a moment,” he says, not looking up from the tablet mounted from his dash, “Then I can leave.”

“I, umm… I don’t wanna go in here.“

Your voice comes out uncharacteristically timid, getting all high-pitched at the end. He glances over his shoulder and furrows his brow, while you just plead with your eyes for him not to ask more questions. It takes a moment before the lightbulb goes on over his head.

“If you let me use the bathroom inside, I promise I won’t talk to anyone or try to take off—”

The man looks around the cabin, then sighs, “If you try anything—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you’ll kill me,” you wave him off and tug on your harness, “I get it, can we go?”

“Fine,” he concedes, “You’re not to leave my side except when in the bathroom, understand?”

Din walks at your side, hand grounded between your shoulder blades as he guides you through the gas station’s brightly lit aisles.

“Do you like donuts?”

He ignores you.

“That’s a silly question. Everyone likes donuts, right? We should get some.”

The women’s restroom draws near and you rush ahead of him to push through the door. He calls after you, “Be quick,” as it swings shut, then leans against the wall opposite the bathroom, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Doubt nibbles away at his nerves with each passing second.

When you emerge, wiping your damp hands on your pants, he straightens and resumes his position at your side, palm pressed against your back, and starts walking.

“Did I do good?”

He glances over to see you looking up at him, a bright smile dawning your face. Words get tangled in his throat for a moment, but he regains his footing and nods, “Yes.”

“Good enough to get a donut?”

He doesn’t respond, but as the two of you pass a donut display, you halt, “Please?”

His jaw clenches. He looks between you, your big brown almond-shaped eyes all sparkling with hope, and the clear cabinet stocked with a variety of donuts, then sighs, “Fine.”

“Yessss,” you clap your hands together and practically bounce over to the display, yanking a parchment paper bag from the counter before clicking the tongs a few times, “Which one do you want?”

“I don’t want one,” Din props his hands on his hips.

You pull the display’s clear plastic door open and raise an eyebrow at him, “I find that hard to believe. Look, they have long johns, cake donuts, apple turnovers, jelly-filled donuts, bear claws—”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” you roll your eyes, “If you don’t tell me which one, I’m gonna pick it for you.”

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to figure out why the hell he agreed to this as you nab a glossy, o-shaped donut.

“These are my favorite: glazed. Sweet ‘n’ gooey on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside,” you drop it into the parchment paper bag and click the tongs at Din, “What’ll it be? Wait—Can I guess?”

Din throws his arms out at his sides, “Just pick one.”

“Let’s see,” you narrow your eyes and tilt your head at him, “You seem like a ‘just the basics' kind of guy. No frills. Maybe a little repressed. And for that reason, I guess that you favor… an old-fashioned donut?”

You grin as you wait for his confirmation. He shakes his head and snatches the tongs from your hand, plucking a raspberry bismarck from the lineup.

“Interesting choice,” you nod as if you’re impressed, “Huh. I had you pegged all wrong, big guy, my apologies.”

Din smirks and drops the donut into a bag, “Let’s go.”

After he pays, the two of you exit the gas station and start towards the rig. Din returns his hand to the space between your shoulder blades, watching for the telltale signs that you’re about to bolt. A frantic glance around, or a stutter in your pace.

Sure, you’re being cooperative, but he’s not naïve.

Considering how scrappy you obviously are, he has no doubt you’re still plotting to escape before he delivers you to Portland. Your temporary compliance means nothing. In the end, you’re going to fight tooth and nail against him, and you will fail. This is how it goes every time, and you are not an exception.

You tear off a piece of the donut and pop it in your mouth, groaning as the pastry melts against your tongue, “Fuck, that’s good.”

Something primal pulses inside him.

Din shakes it from his head and stares up at the idling truck, pulling the door open for you to hop inside. You do so without protest. He buckles and locks you into the sleeper cab’s harnessed seat, then goes about finding a new work order.

While your captor is hooking up the trailer and all that entails, you hum to yourself and doodle french bulldogs into the margins of your notebook.

Your muse whines at the driver’s side window, then jumps down off the seat, onto the bed beside you. He stomps a few loops, then throws himself to the mattress with a, “Humph.”

“Preaching to the choir, pupperoni,” you mutter, “I can’t believe driving for over 10 hours a day isn’t the most boring part of trucking.”

The dog blinks at you, which you consider an agreement on his part.

“I wish I knew your name,” you pout, rubbing his velvety ear between your fingers, then sigh, “Well. Maybe it’s better I don’t know. Rule number nine: Don’t get attached.”

It’s quiet for a while as you pet the dog, soothing his agitation.

“Can you keep a secret?”

His eyes start to drift closed. He releases a deep breath.

“I am terrified of what will happen when they take me,” you whisper, then scratch the top of his noggin and sigh to yourself, “Fuck.”

The dire reality of your situation finally begins to sink down onto your shoulders. A dark blue ache pools in your diaphragm. For a split second, you think about the switchblade in your captor’s pocket and wonder how sharp it really is.

The driver’s door swings open, and for once, you’re actually glad to see it.

Beside you, the dog perks up, waiting until the black baseball cap and shiny aviators of your captor come into view before hurdling himself towards the front of the truck. The man pulls the door closed with a loud thunk and drops onto the driver’s seat.

He tugs the gloves off his fingers with his teeth and tosses them on the dash, glancing between a packet of papers on his lap and the tablet, tapping the screen a few times before turning to the sleeper cabin.

You follow his movements and ask, “On the road again?”

The man grunts in response, kneeling down beside the bed to access his safe.

Six little beeps ring out as you tap your fingers against your thigh, “Where to now?”

“Utah,” he yanks the safe open, stowing his papers inside, then slams it shut.

“Portland tomorrow?”

He leans back on his haunches, digs in his pocket, and hands you your knife, “Yes.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. While he rises to his feet and dusts off his knees, you frown in contemplation, then ask, “Can I sit up there?”

The man stills.

You look up and meet your reflection in his sunglasses with a shrug, “I just wanna see the world a little more before… you know. I can’t.”

His shoulders seem to slump the tiniest bit when you say this, but he corrects it quickly and says, “I’m still turning you in.”

“Of course.”

He studies you, jaw working from side to side, then sighs and crouches down again to unlock your harness.

Din regrets the decision almost the second your seatbelt clicks into place beside him.

All your little noises and attempts at conversation were subdued when you were in the sleeper cab. With you just two feet away, he can hear every hum, every question, every pointless observation, every single godforsaken tap tap tap of your pen keeping time on your thigh.

He has considered throwing it out the window more times than he can count, but knows you would just resume the motion with your fingertips against all of your surroundings: notebook, window, legs, face, seat, door, anything, everything.

Tap tap tap tap tap

Worse yet, he can see you in the corner of his eye, always moving. Always. Fiddling with your hair, twisting it into braids, undoing them, redoing them. Jotting things down in your notebook. Wiggling in your seat. Bouncing your leg. Every ten minutes he has to scold you to get your feet off the dash, and each time you scoff and roll your eyes like he’s the one being unreasonable.

Your presence eats away at his nerve endings, leaving them frayed and hot.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

“Does your dog have a name?” you ask somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, where it seems like all that exists are cornfields. Dried out stalks, golden and ready to harvest, line the highway for miles on each side. Every once in a while, he spots monstrous combines, eating up rows at a time, spitting out beige clouds behind them.

“Not sure.”

The answer flees his mouth before he has time to consider the consequences. They are immediate.

“How are you not sure, what does that mean?”

Din sighs and keeps his eyes on the road as he tries to forge an explanation. You take his pause as him dropping the subject.

“You can’t just say that,” you scoff, staring at him, “What, did you find him abandoned or something?”

He shakes his head and parts his lips, but you push onward before he can get out a word.

“Did you steal him?”

His mouth snaps shut and his traitorous throat gulps, thick with guilt.

“You stole him?!” You gasp, “You hypocrite. Wow. Why would you steal someone’s dog?”

He glares at you, “They didn’t take care of him.”

“How do you even know that? Did you just assume you can do a better job—”

“They had him crated alone for at least a day before I got there to load their furniture—”

“What, is this thing a moving service too?”

“Christ, will you just shut up and let me explain?” he snaps.

Your head jerks back and face pinches into a scowl. But you do as he asked, rolling your wrist away from your body as if to say: Proceed.

“I do all kinds of jobs. Mostly this, long hauling freight for manufacturers and distribution centers, but sometimes, yes, I take moving jobs.”

“And bounty hunting on the side?”

He shoots a sharp glance your way, and you mutter, “Sorry, go on.”

“His owners hired me to move their belongings from Pittsburgh to Albany. The work order didn’t say anything about a dog, but when I got there, he was alone and scared. No food or water,” Din pauses and watches in the side mirror as a pickup truck swings out from behind him and speeds to get ahead, then he continues, “When I got to Albany, they weren’t too happy about my refusal to hand him over. I didn’t get paid, but I couldn’t leave him there.”

You nod and stare out at the road, “So you’ll do that for dogs but not people?”

The question jolts him. He swallows hard and shrugs, “Dogs are put in their circumstances and unable to escape. People have a choice.”

“I disagree,” you look over at him and study his profile, “What are people supposed to do when the only circumstances that allow for their escape lead to something like this? Is that supposed to be a choice?”

He wants to ask you to explain, but he knows the less information he has, the better. And he already knows too much. So he says nothing.

You release a deep sigh and lean back in your seat, rolling your head to look at the passing cornfields.

Your captor decides to stop for the night at a rest stop between sleepy Wyoming towns along I-80.

As he did the night before, he locks the rig down like it’s Fort fucking Knox.

There’s this whole system he has worked out, with straps and locks and keys and his little safe under the bed.

His vigilance seems to be the only thing he keeps in excess. Which you could relate to more if you weren’t the “asset” he’s so vehemently trying to secure.

An asset.

Your stomach churns as you realize that’s what you are to this man. Not a human, but a pawn to trade for cash. You hoped to garner his sympathy throughout the day, but seem to have gotten nowhere in that respect, while each mile brings you closer to Portland.

After completing his nighttime routine and tapping around on his tablet a little, the man shuts off his overhead lamp and reclines the driver’s seat all the way back.

The only light comes from a streetlamp outside, casting a green fluorescent glow across the empty passenger’s seat. You roll on your side and make way for the dog, who jumps up and curls into a ball against you. He lets out a content sigh when your nails rake the short, white fur along his ribcage.

“Can I tell you about where you’re taking me?”

No response.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” you say, “Don’t pretend.”

“I would rather not know.”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” you mutter, then shake your head, “But I can’t let this be buried with me. I need someone to know.”

Nothing.

“Please.”

A brief silence follows, but you wait, and eventually he says, “Ok.”

“I was staying with my friend, Joey, in Portland for a few weeks while I did temporary work there. One night, he was biking back to the apartment and saw these cops stop and talk to an unhoused man, then put him in the back of the cop car. No lights or anything. Joey thought this was weird, so he followed the cruiser. It went into this warehouse, not back to the police station. They brought the guy in but left without him.

“The next day, Joey talked to a friend, who looked into property records of the warehouse and told us it belonged to an LLC. We traced back to this guy named Tom Boucheron. Do you recognize that name?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, he owns all these property companies out there. I thought it would have been him that put out the bounty for me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway,” you frown at the now abstract green glow of the passenger’s seat, “We should have figured we were in over our heads. But, whatever was happening seemed shady and we wanted to check it out. A few of us broke into the warehouse. The place had a few security guards posted and, I don’t know, it got out of hand. Some of us—me, I—held them at gunpoint while the others looked around. They found pharmaceuticals and street drugs, large quantities of them.”

You pause for a moment and listen to the hum of the truck, then ask, “Are you still listening?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you take a deep breath, then say, “The cops showed up quick. They caught our lookout and arrested him, but the rest of us were able to get out. And…”

The words catch in your throat for a second. You shake your head, “And one of my friends… I mean, I didn’t see it myself, but… she said she saw people in cages. All fucked up and strung out, barely able to move. She thought some of them might’ve been dead.

“I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t even believe her at first, but a few days later, our friend who was arrested turned up dead from an apparent overdose. He didn’t use hard drugs. That was enough for me to get back on the road, but the others… Portland is their home, you know, they were insistent on staying to find out more.”

A heaviness falls over you. It surrounds you on all sides, suffocating the flame of hope that kept you going all day. Your eyes burn like hell but you can’t seem to bring yourself to blink. The vague glow of the streetlamp holds you in a trance.

When you speak again, you try your hardest to keep your voice steady.

“So I just need you to know… that is what’s ahead of me. I will go missing. They will keep me in a cage like a fucking animal, drugging me and god knows what else, until I’m fucking dead. My grandma and brother, if they ever discover my death, will think I overdosed and died on the streets of Portland. They will think I died with no dignity,” you pause here and let out a sad, watery chuckle, “And they will be right.”

Silence.

You swallow the thickness of your throat and muster every ounce of courage in your body as you tell him, “If you have any mercy at all, you will kill me in my sleep tonight and hand them my dead body tomorrow.”

More silence.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” you breathe, “Well… goodnight, then.”

#passenger #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

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aswrittenbyaj · 1 year

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dance for you

pairing: riri williams x Black reader (feminine) summary: it's the first home game of the season and majorette dancer riri is excited to hear the roar of the crowd in the stans. too ad her number one fan is stuck working. wordcount: 3.1k warnings: rated 18+. minors dni. cursing. not beta’d (that’s a warning in itself). let me know if i missed any! dedications & credits: originally inspired by dominique getting ready for carnival in a couple videos that @axailslink posted a few months ago. hbcu!shuri and hbcu!riri live rent-free in my mind so i went with it. not gonna lie yall, i'm not the happiest with this, only because it was supposed to be longer. every time i tried to expand on it, it just didn't feel right to me which is why the ended may feel a bit abrupt. there might be a part 2 in the future (or a stand alone that could be read in connection to this), but for now, i hope you enjoy.

gif conversions, divider, and banner by: me

she looked so fucking gorgeous.

it was a little after five when you arrived to riri william's on-campus apartment, smirking up at the small yet advanced security camera she had rigged in place of a key. though you were a little skeevy about facial recognition and have your face scanned into the ether, you trusted her...and you loved being able to pop in and out of her place whenever the desire was there.

you didn't have much time before your six o'clock shift, this weekend being mandatory for all bartenders and not to brag, but you were one of brimstone's best. hell, you should've been. you had worked there since you were a freshman, unable to drink, but more than capable of keeping the liquor flowing and charming your way into extra tips.

ending the door, you headed towards the open bathroom door, your feet stopping as did your heart the second your gaze landed on the beauty that was your girlfriend in makeup. your approach had gone unnoticed, riri's eyes closed as her best friend viv continued to pat the beauty blender up her cheekbones, across her forehead, her back to you.

"oooh, bitch, i'm scared of you," viv had said, giggling as she put down the orange sponge egg, grabbing the setting spray.

a fine mist sprayed from the clear matte bottle, giving your girlfriend's skin a dewy cast. white teeth flashed between nude painted lips as she laughed, the sound your favorite melody.

you shifted in your position, leaning against the door frame content with watching your shawty get pampered in peace. she didn't always do this. between her classes, "side hustle", and working on her inventions, riri rarely had the time to press pause on life that was long enough to take time out for herself. honestly, the only time she really allowed herself to get dolled up, outside of date night with you, was during football season.

as a fly girl, a majorette on your university's dance team, there were certain level of self-maintenance riri was required to sustain and while during the off-season that meant she was focused more staying conditioned for the next season, the end-of-summer through winter window was when your girlfriend spent more time (and your money) getting her face beat, her hair styled and her nails filled in.

not that you were complaining. you would never complain about doing something that made her so happy, her inner glow was physically visible to the naked eye. you be able to provide that for your girl? it made you feel favored and fortunate.

except on nights like tonight.

though subtle, your shift in movement caught her best friend's attention, eyes glancing up at you through the mirror before going back to the task at hand, rocking her weight back onto her left leg.

"looks like i ain't gonna be the only one scared tonight," she said, swapping the setting spray for a black and white circular hand fan, viv flicking her wrist back and forth, the gentle flow of air speeding up the makeup application drying time.

"whatchu mean?" riri asked, her head tilting slightly, perfectly scuplted brow quirking in interest.

"'cause with the way your girlfriend is lookin' atchu right now, anybody try to step to you tonight finna be scared for a whole 'nother reason."

you couldn't help, but laugh, throwing your head back; first, because of viv's commentary, but as always, your attention was never too far from riri. she chuckled before her friend's words fully interlocked cohesively in her mind, eyes opening immediately, knowing exactly where to look to connect with your own. your pink tongue dragged across the plump of your bottom lip as you settled into the full intensity of those brown eyes focusing on you.

"hi baby," she said sweetly, soft smile spreading into a wider grin.

it was clear from the alertness in her eyes, she hadn't expected you to stop by. honestly you were pushing it pretty close since it was a ten minute drive to brimstone, and you still needed to head back to your apartment to shower and get dressed, but if you were stuck working all night, surrounded but a bunch of horny, drunk, and high people, you damn sure were gonna make sure you saw your baby first.

hopping down off the bathroom sink counter, she side-stepped viv, arms immediately wrapped around your waist. careful not to ruin her best friend's hard work, you nudged her chin up, full lips coming down to press against hers, supple as always.

"hi beautiful," you said, pulling back just enough to mumble the words against her duo-tone lips before capturing them with your own again.

"uh, yeah, girl, i'll meet you downstairs in like twenty minutes."

you barely heard viv as she grabbed her things and left, your attention solely on the young woman who had captured your heart a year and a semester ago. her hands toyed with the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing against the velvet of your skin as your hands shifted to the sides of her head, fingers threading themselves in her microbraids.

you pressed your lips against hers a couple more times before pulling back a few more inches to just look at her, taking her in. she used to hate when you did that, stared at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, as if just having her here proved the existence of magic and miracles.

these days, things were different, her gaze now a mirror, reflecting back a love so deep you could free fall in it and never touch to bottom.

"you so damn pretty," you said, shaking your head slightly as if her beauty were an insult, lips curling upwards into a smile at the way she beamed at your compliment.

"thank you mami," she said, leaning up to press a kiss to your jaw before letting you go, turning to clean up the leftover mess on the counter. "so...how long are you mine for?"

her tone was played casual, but you knew how to see beyond the dramatic lightness of her words.

"forever and a day, but..."

you approached her from behind, hands brushing the terry fabric of her robe as they wrapped around her waist. you buried the rest of your statement in the space between her neck and robe collar.

"...unfortunately i have to leave in, like, five minutes ago."

"right now? are you serious?"

you didn't even need to glance in the mirror to see the downturn of her lips though she revealed it to you, half turning in your arms to meet your gaze.

"you really can't make it tonight?"

you sighed softly, the slump of your shoulders obvious. you hated to disappoint her.

"i wish i could." your bottom lip poked out for a second, mimicking her pouty facial expression. "brian's making everybody touch the clock this weekend and since i didn't work last night..."

your voice trailed off, hand on her hip smoothing down over the curve of her ass as you leaned back in for another kiss, this one searing with memories of just how the two of you spent your night off. you weren't the only one still drunk off recollection, a throaty moan vibrating against your lips the second they touched hers.

all too soon, you pulled apart, a sigh falling from between her painted pout, and not the kind of sigh you loved to coax out from her.

"but you have to go."

you could see her trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice, the urge to kick yourself growing stronger.

"i have to go," you confirmed, the hand on her chin moving down to mimic your right, ten fingers splayed against the soft cotton covering her ass. "but text me where you end up after the game. i'll come find you after my shift," you promised, eyes staying locked on hers for a moment longer, waiting for her nod in agreement.

her eyes fluttered closed as you pressed a kiss to her forehead, right hand coming down to slap her left ass cheek, the contrast in action drawing a gasping giggle from her and a smirk from you as you made your way out her dorm apartment's door.

yeah, you made a mistake coming in to work tonight. it wasn't that it was boring, not per sé, but at 7 o'clock, it was still pretty early. the only people at the bar were those who couldn't get tickets to the game and with a stadium who's capacity sat at 20,000 people, that number of fanatics without was relatively low.

still, you weren't bored. you'd just rather had been somewhere else.

like at the stadium cheering your hbcu's football team on at its first home game of the season...and watching the love of your life shake her ass with a touch of class in the sexiest uniform you've seen in your four years of attending.

the worst part about it was that you hadn't even seen riri wearing it in-person, instead only getting 8-second glimpses of it on the social media stories of her dance sisters. the last one had been a casual version of the fly girl sway, complete with attitude poses and your favorite thing to see her wear, a smile.

fuck, you had to get out of here.

it took you two beer replacements and an appetizer sampler platter to come up with an easy, but fail-proof way to get out of a shift with a guy like brian. it wasn't hard to find him, the older man hiding away in his office, no doubt watching the game's live feed on his laptop.

your knuckles rapped sharply against the door twice, your boss' head snapping up immediately as if he had gotten caught doing something forbidden. he was so busted. you coughed once to hide your amusement.

"uh, hey brian, i know i just clocked in like 2 hours ago, but i gotta go home."

if anyone knew how to frown with their entire face, it was brian. even his nostrils seemed to display disappointment in your words.

"and why exactly is that?"

"it's personal."

"so is having a job and working your intended shift to totality."

how you didn't roll your eyes at his bullshit was beyond you. instead, you looked away, left then right, weight shifting back and forth as your shuffled on your feet. after the moment of awkwardness you purposely created, you peeked up at him, grimacing.

"so my cycle just started and there's bl-

brian's work-weathered hand came up to stop your sentience from continuing to completion, just as you knew it would. this was a fifty-four year old man who took his tmi very seriously, which made it pretty easy for you to exploit in emergencies like this.

"just go, but i expect you to prepared to pick up some extra hours next weekend."

the not-so-veiled threat barely made it to your ears the way you rushed back down the hallway, feet squeaking against the titled floor as you narrowly missed a busboy in your haste. you rounded the corner of the small break room, using the term "room" loosely. deft fingers spun the silver combination lock, the tumbler dropping the base so you could pull open the creaking metal door and grab your backpack from the bottom. yanking at the ties of your waist apron, you pulled out the folded bills from the front pocket, the meager tips you managed to earn in the almost two hours of your shift, before shoving the apron and your lock into your bag.

a loud clang sounded in the room as you closed the door, your feet already in motion towards the entryway and then out the back door.

you contemplated whether or not you should change before heading to campus, your work uniform of black jeans and a black fitted black t-shirt not the worst fit in world, but still nothing close to your usual style. a glance at the clock on the dash told you that if you wanted to see riri's lithe form dancing her heart out, the outfit change would have to wait.

it was a good thing you decided to skip it, too, since the parking lots were full. the packed side streets and grass lot parking had you wishing you had finally gotten your motorcycle license.

turning the block the stadium was on, you could hear the roar of the crowd. you wanted to believe it was for your school, but since the opposing team's school was only two hours away, it wouldn't have surprised you in they had fans attending by the bus-load as well.

just as you were able to say "fuck it" and risk parking in front of the two-hour meter parking you knew was located a couple streets over, a bright orange sign caught you attention, the word "media/press parking" in bold, black block lettering. a smirk formed on your face as you cut your wheel in the new direction.

the roar of the crowd near deafening as the home team gained 20 yard, only 10 more yards to go to widen the score gap with less than two minutes on the clock before half time, . squeezing through the slow walking and talking bodies, your hand gripped tighter the canon dslr camera that hung from the leather strap adorning your neck, backpack straps trapping the "campus media" badge and lanyard close to your chest.

you had never been so grateful to have joined the yearbook club a year ago, an extra curricular supplement to your photography minor. the navy blue and platinum silver badge pretty much let you get behind the scenes of any school event, which you used to your advantage, flashing the plastic card at the security guard blocking the tunnel gates before slipped past him.

you carefully maneuvered your way along the sideline towards the home team's side of the stans, grateful the that violence of the game was taking place at the other end of the field. it would be just your luck that you got all the way here just to get tackled by a defensive player trying to take down a running back.

honestly, you couldn't care less about the game, about the screaming fans and the hyped up players near the bench waiting to take their turn on the turf. your eyes searched the stands, instead, easily landing on the twelve dancers sitting poised, one leg crossed over the other as the band behind them transitioned into a new tune.

holding up the camera, you took a few test shots of the fly girls, thumbing quickly to adjust the settings before bringing the viewfinder back up to your face. you couldn't help but zoom in, catching candids of your girlfriend as she waiting for the dance captain to start her lead-in.

glancing over your shoulder to be sure you were still in the safety zone, you refocused on the task at hand. since there were already other campus photographers on the sidelines, you technically didn't have to get photos of the game, but you weren't going to break cover now, not after you busted your ass to get where you were standing in the first place.

you snapped another photo, looking down at the digital screen with a frown, not exactly happy with the aperture priority. fiddling with the dials, you glanced up at the stands again, head bobbing as your eye caught the dancer next to riri giving her a nudge and pointing in your direction. speedily, you lifted the camera back up to your face, index pressing down repeatedly as you captured her reaction to your presence. shifting the weight of the camera to your left hand, you raised the right, returning her enthusiastic wave before catching the kiss she blew at you with a smirk.

riri was literally glowing.

the energy in the air was electrifying, supercharged, after the Bruisers took the W, keeping them undefeated at the start of the season. thankfully the teams, band, and dancers were allowed to clear the stadium before the fans, event staff such as yourself following behind.

leaning back against the sleek black of your audi r7, you settled in to wait for riri to exit the blue double doors. honestly, you didn't mind letting the thousands of people fight their way out of their spots and onto the road. you were in no rush, giving a polite smile or wave as familiar faces as they cleared the press lot.

the slight bite of the cool breeze stroked against the bareness of your arms, your hands sliding back and forth to warm them despite the perfectly working heaters on the other side of the car door. just as you were about to give in and sit inside, the petite woman emerged from the double doors, her eyes scanning the busy lot until she found who she was looking for.

you.

it was as if a switch had turned on, the way riri brightened up the moment her eyes landed on you. a smile stretched wide across her face. legs kicking dramatically behind her, she half-jogged in your direction, both hands tucked into the kangaroo pocket of her oversized h--- wait, that was your hoodie. as well as your sweatpants, tied tight to her waist though still baggy on her hips.

"you missed me that much you had to steal my clothes?" you asked, pulling her into your arms.

leaning into her, riri's back bowed slightly as you pressed your full lips to hers, arms pulling her in closer as your lips traveled to her chee bones, her nose, her forehead. her laughter stole her breath as she gave it to the wind, pearly whites to the sky as she grinned.

"well i didn't know if you were comin' or not so i had to do what i had to do." she shrugged, eyebrow quirking as she stood bold in her truth, in her blatant desire to have you close.

"well, i'm here now so no substitutes needed, aight?" your hands slide away from her as you moved to open the passenger side door for her. "so where we headin'--yours or mine? i know you prolly wanna shower before we hit up some parties and i damn sure ain't wearin' this shit out tonight."

eyes never leaving her frame, you watched riri glide into the front seat with the gracefulness only a dancer could have.

"we can head to yours. i think my 90's lakers jersey dress is over there and you got the perfect jordans to go right wit em too."

there wasn't anything to say to that, nothing to do but to chuckle and shake your head as your fingers pushed the door closed. there was security in the way riri was so confident in her ability to just assume your things as hers. pride would swell in your chest seeing her swimming in your clothes, her healthy appetite and habitual exercise routine aiding in the appearance of her natural petiteness. not to mention that shit turned you all the way on.

it never felt unappreciated in the way her presence carried over into your personal space, not with the way the invitation was always mutual.

#as written by aj #riri williams x black!reader #riri williams fic #riri wiliams x reader #riri x reader #riri williams x you #riri williams #riri williams x f!reader #riri williams x fem!reader #black panther fanfic #black panther #black panther fics #black writer #black writers #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black fanfics

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carrickbender · 3 months

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- Friday was awful at work. F'ing awful. Had a software "roll out" that hobbled production, Absolutely exemplified the disconnect between what goes on in IT, in production, and in the C-suite. You can want what you want, and 'hope' that things go well, but to quote a movie about an exploding oil rig, "hope is not a strategy". I've already started an A3 about it for my bosses boss and will probably send it Monday because that was so preventable. Never underestimate the power of SOPs and following SOPs...

- After the fact, in an act of self-care and needing to touch grass, I had to go outside. Sunshine, almost 50 degrees, right on the ocean... talk about a reset.

- In another act of self-care, I heard the moan of a train engine while getting fuel and gave chase. 8556 is a SD70ACe, affectionately known as an 'ace', has kinda been an uncommon engine in these parts but I've always loved this model's boxy look and their peculiar rumble sound they make.I caught the train 3 times, and the engineer waved 3 times. Truth? I needed this bit too.

- not pictured: the little bit of H's French chicken that included caramelized onions, provolone, and egg noodles; nor is the indulgent and later painful half slice of a homemade sourdough boule- both of which made our little pink house smell like heaven when I got home.

- "Running like a river trying to find the ocean

Flowers in the concrete

Climbing over fences, blooming in the shadows

Places that you can't see

Coming through the melody when the night bird sings

Love is a wild thing"

Spacey Kacey, for the win...

- I kinda phoned it in this week for school, and I'm gonna regret it... I think. I was out of my mind tired doing my assignment last night, in pain, and I probably should go back and listen to it again. I'm going to do as little as I can get away with today- laundry, play Legos with buggy, try to recharge, work on my writing project for work, and try and rest this stupid body of mine. But first- coffee. Much love yall!!!

#me #this is my life #dadlife #exhausted #wsu #mbacollege #washington state #pnwonderland #bnsf #this is a train blog #in repair

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tomorrowxtogether · 29 days

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Tomorrow X Together are rebels with a cause in first-look photos for Minisode 3: Tomorrow

From rebellious rockers to fairytale princes, there’s no concept that Tomorrow X Together can’t pull off.

The K-Pop group (pronounced ‘Tomorrow By Together,’ or TXT for short) is officially back with its sixth mini-album Minisode 3: Tomorrow, and to celebrate, Entertainment Weekly is exclusively revealing five never-before-seen concept photos that highlight Soobin, Huening Kai, Taehyun, Beomgyu, and Yeonjun’s versatile style.

The snapshots are part of the group’s "Ethereal" and "Romantic" photo concepts for the album, each of which, Taehyun tells EW, “distinctly encompasses a unique story and emotion that we wanted to deliver visually through Minisode 3: Tomorrow.”

They’re also completely different from one another aesthetically. The "Romantic" photoshoot draws upon Snow White-inspired imagery with the quintet's dreamy outfits, while their "Ethereal" snapshots turn TXT into modern-day rock stars — complete with their own winged guitars, amps, and big rig. Minisode 3: Tomorrow's final two concepts — "Light" and "Promise" — further expand upon the group's artistry as they're seen outfitted in ballet slippers, angel wings, and crowns.

“We wanted to [experiment] with a diverse range of fashion styles,” Yeonjun says. “I think, at this point in time, one of our greatest strengths as a band is our versatility, not only in music and performances but also in aesthetics, which we always aim to absorb and make our own.”

And yes, in case you were wondering, those winged guitars were seriously hefty. “During the 'Ethereal' version concept shoot, I was surprised by the weight of the guitar!” Beomgyu recalls. “It was quite cold on set, and I thought it was so cute how we would huddle around the heater during breaks, which added a heartwarming touch to the experience.”

TXT fans, called MOA (short for 'moments of alwaysness'), will also spot that the concepts directly relate to the group's past albums. “The props like the truck and guitars are reminiscent of our previous releases ‘0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)’ and ‘LO$ER=LO♡ER,’” Taehyun says. “I hope MOA enjoy the throwback!”

That connection can also be heard on Minisode 3: Tomorrow. Leader Soobin says the group is “connecting the dots from our previous releases" with the record, especially on their title track, “Deja Vu.” He adds, "Including lyrics such as ‘I ran away countless times,’ and ‘be my eternity,’ from ‘Run Away’ [from their 2019 album The Dream Chapter: Magic] added a nostalgic touch that I think our fans will enjoy rediscovering."

While TXT is honoring its past, the album still has its own story to tell. One of EW’s concept photos (below) features the group sitting on a truck that reads, “We made a promise when we were young. That’s the reason I have to live for tomorrow.”

“The phrase hints at the underlying story of Minisode 3: Tomorrow,” Soobin explains. “It means that we will remember our past promises and embark on a journey to find 'you' to charge forward and face a hopeful 'tomorrow' together.”

Beomgyu describes the seven-track album as a “treasure trove of diverse sounds” that “represent the stories of today's generation.” Throughout their careers, TXT has never been afraid of openly and honestly discussing the physical and mental hardships that come with adolescence and, now, young adulthood — the 23-year-old’s favorite track on the album, “Quarter Life,” is actually about navigating a quarter-life crisis.

“Taehyun, Huening Kai, and I participated in the lyric writing to express the inner thoughts that we have at this point in our lives,” Beomgyu says about the song. “I love the track's mood and melody, too!”

In fact, four of Minisode 3: Tomorrow's tracks were penned in part by the members of TXT. Yeonjun — who co-wrote “I’ll See You There Tomorrow,” “The Killa (I Belong To You),” and “Miracle” — says that the album’s lyrics “have greater depth and uniqueness” this time around because they’re framed through the members' worldview.

“We have collectively been improving in our lyric writing, and I think it shines through in this album,” he says. “As we aim to give voice to the common experiences of our generation, we tried to focus on applying our own stories in the lyrics.”

And, just like in their "Ethereal" concept photos, TXT will soon find themselves hopping aboard a tour bus and hitting the road when their upcoming Act: Promise tour kicks off stateside next month. The 11-date concert series will see the members perform across the country, including two nights at Madison Square Garden in New York City.

“We are visiting even more cities across the U.S. this time around, so I'm thrilled to meet and interact with more MOA!” Huening Kai says. “Our fans will be able to see some brand new performances of tracks from our new album, so I hope they can look forward to it. Just like our album's opener, ‘I'll See You There.’”

Minisode 3: Tomorrow is available now.

#txt #tomorrow x together #240402 #article #ew #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #minisode 3 tomorrow #minisode 3

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shopcrescentmoods · 1 year

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My Melody Dab Tool <3 available, dm on instagram ! @ shopcrescentmoodss

#my melody #sanrio #dab rig #dab tools #my melody dab tool #smoking accessories #girly glass #girly bongs #girly smoking accessories #girly 420 #dab pen #vape pen #smoke shop #kawaii #stoner #stoner girl #bongs #pipes #weed

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lila-rae · 5 months

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Excuse me while I unload my Renaissance Tour Film thoughts

Holy Mother of all that is Good. Beyoncé is that girl. Period.

Immediately the visuals were giving. The transitions were just so damn stunning. The editing team deserves all the praise.

As someone who grew up in back stage roles the respect, gratitude, and honor she shows to the crew is so sweet and makes me tear up. It’s very easy to feel under appreciated in those roles but she wanted them in reflective gear to show the audience the work they were putting in.

Her thoughts on Black women and the fight for success. “This Bitch will not give up” might become my new motto.

She’s truly the most virgoy Virgo because them telling her they didn’t have a certain rig and coming back with “I was looking at 30 foot camera tracks - and they do exist” — ICONIC

Watching her embrace motherhood had me in tears. (I’m legit way too hormonal for this shit.) You can tell how much she loves her kids, how much she loves being with them, and that they are her number 1 priority. I think the media loves to portray Black women as cold/angry/irritable but watching her be soft and nurturing and so damn cuddly with those babies had me crying in the theater.

The honor she is showing to the LGBTQ community, specifically the black gay men who forever changed a lot of the culture was heartwarming. Watching Kevin JZ Prodigy get his flowers was beautiful and well deserved. Seeing all the LGBTQ representation in her crew and hearing their stories and what this means to them was so important and I’m glad she included them in the film.

Blue Blue is hilarious and was riding hard for all of us to have the tour we deserved. And for that I thank her. Also just watching her be so dedicated and hardworking at 11. She was my favorite part of the tour and is probably my favorite part of the film.

I’m glad she included the Big 3 especially for the cities that didn’t get to see them performed because that Drunk in Love riff deserves to be memorialized on film.

And finally my favorite quote of the night

“I spent so much of my life a serial people pleaser and finally I don’t give a fuck” (I take back earlier this is my new motto)

Now I need sis to drop a tour recording album like yesterday. If I don’t get alien superstar with the sweet dreams beat under it immediately I will riot. Also her love song melody is a need not a want.

#renaissance the film

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avengerscompound · 5 months

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The Interview - Chapter 4

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating: E

Warnings: nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 1739

Summary: Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America. Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 4

Being shown around Brooklyn by Steve Rogers had been in the top ten experiences Melody had experienced. It had been fascinating seeing what was left of the secret headquarters for the strategic scientific reserve. It was a nightclub now, that seemed to cash in on its infamous past. There were framed news articles about the explosion and subsequent pursuit of a HYDRA agent in Brooklyn, and photos of the old lab on the walls down the staircase that led to the basement-level dancefloor. Steve explained that the dancefloor and bar were where the procedure that made him a super-soldier took place and that the VIP section was where everyone had watched on.

After that, he’d taken her to his old apartment building and school. He had a lot of stress in his childhood, though Melody could tell he was giving her the press-friendly version of his life. It was still nice getting such a personal and intimate tour of the life of one of the most famous people on the planet.

Outside of the fascination and history of the tour and what it would mean to her article, it was a really pleasant day out. Peter Parker was always fun to be around, despite the fact he was completely unreliable and would often make a weird excuse and disappear in the middle of work. He was dorky and funny and was usually able to set people at ease. Steve seemed to like his brand of fanboy too and seemed to enter a kind of dad mode every time the two of them interacted. They all grabbed lunch together, and even under the banner of interviewing Captain America, Melody liked spending time with Steve. He liked people to feel safe and welcome and while he could be intimidating, he made the effort to make sure she knew she had nothing to worry about.

After everything was done Melody and Steve caught the train back to Manhattan. That was when he invited her to a party at the Avengers Tower the following night and told her to bring a friend. The chance to see him completely unwind as well as getting to attend a party with the Avengers made butterflies flutter around in her stomach.

As he got off the train she realized that she might be developing quite a crush on Steve Rogers.

It was easy to convince herself it didn’t matter. Plenty of people had a crush on Steve Rogers, he’d been People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive every year since he’d come off the ice, except for two years ago when people started saying it was rigged and they decided to give the title to Sam Wilson. Yes, she had started to get to know him - and yes, he was extremely chivalrous toward her, but he was still a celebrity that she was only going to spend a couple of weeks with tops and then she’d never see him again. So she had a crush? So what?

The apartment was empty when Melody got home, so she took a shower and changed into pajamas before sitting down to start her article. After she’d been writing for a few hours her stomach began to rumble, and she went to her tiny kitchenette to make dinner.

Bobbi arrived home with a couple of her friends while she was adding the last few ingredients to her pasta sauce. “Mel! I’m home!” she called as she came through the door. “Rowan and Oliva are with me.”

“Damn, it smells good in here,” Rowan, the tall, tanned, androgynous friend of Bobbi’s said.

“It’s just pasta,” Melody said. “Nothing special.”

“It’s making my mouth water,” they said. “Bobbi, we definitely need to get food before work.”

“Yeah, okay. We don’t have a lot of time though,” Bobbi replied.

Melody stepped out of the tiny kitchenette to catch Bobbi before she disappeared into her room. “How were your auditions?” she asked. “Did you all go?”

“We sure did,” the shorter, curvier Olivia said. “Not too often when there are roles specifically for people like us that pop up.”

“How’d you go?” Melody asked.

“Pretty good, I think,” Bobbi said. “Maybe we’ll be getting our big break at the same time.”

Melody held up her hand with her fingers crossed. “Fingers crossed. Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

“I’m always working,” Bobbi said. “Why?”

“I got invited to a party at the Avengers Tower,” Melody said. “I’m allowed to bring someone. You think you can get off work to be the someone?”

She stopped dead and stared at Melody with wide amber eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Will the Avengers be there?”

“I mean - I was invited by an Avenger, so I assume so,” Melody answered.

“Seriously? You want me to go with you?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Melody replied. “Who else?”

She shifted on the spot and whined a little. “I’ll try and get someone to fill in for me. Don’t ask anyone else.”

Melody put her hands up in surrender. “I would never.”

“If she can’t go, I’m open,” Olivia said. “I’d love to meet Black Widow.”

“No. If anyone meets black widow it will be me,” Bobbi said, bouncing on the spot. “Shit. I have to get ready for work.”

“Go,” Melody said. “I won’t ask anyone else. You can tell me tomorrow.”

Bobbi came over and hugged Melody. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Hey you can repay me by taking me to the Tony’s when you’re nominated,” Mel joked.

“You’ve got it, babe,” she said, finally letting you go. “Go get your food before you set off the fire alarms.”

She gave Melody’s butt a swat and Melody yelped and ran in to rescue her pasta. Olivia and Rowan both hovered by the kitchenette as Bobbi went to change.

“Bobbi said you were doing a profile on Captain America,” Rowan said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she said as she served up her meal. “It was lucky really. Everyone else on staff has pissed off the Avengers. I was all that was left.”

“Don't sell yourself short like that,” Rowan said. “You must be doing a good job if he invited you to a party.”

Melody couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. “You're right. I am the best!”

The following night, Bobbi had managed to get someone to fill in for her at the dinner theater, so she and Melody went into the city to buy something to wear. It was a tricky situation to be invited to a party with actual celebrities while they were living on dried ramen and peanut butter. Thankfully, since they’d moved to New York together they’d become expert thrift shoppers. They knew the best stores to hit and had gotten pretty good at doing quick alterations and mixing and matching to make an outfit blend into a variety of different situations.

They were browsing the racks of clothes in one of their favorite stores that tended to stock more vintage clothes, looking for the perfect things to wear that night. “So what’s the vibe?” Bobbi asked. “Do we want to be professional? Flirty? Slutty? Is there a dress code?”

“He didn’t say there was a dress code,” Melody said. “He just said; Tony is throwing a party tomorrow night. Would you like to come? You can bring a friend.”

“So it’s not for work?” Bobbi asked, pulling out a sheer black blouse and holding it up to herself and then to Melody.

“I think it’s like - both? Like a chance to see him with his friends? But also I’m genuinely invited to the party,” she answered as Bobbi put the shirt back. “I don’t want to be prudish when we go, but I don’t want to go too far the other way.”

“Flirty?” she asked, this time pulling out a wool cardigan and then immediately putting it back again.

“Mmm…” Melody hummed, making a non-committal sound as she took a hat from the head of a mannequin and spun it around in her hands. The truth was she did want to be flirty. She wanted Steve to notice her, but she didn’t want to admit that she wanted Steve to notice her.

“Flirty…?” Bobbi pressed.

“Yeah… yeah flirty,” she relented. “Bobbi… I really like him.”

She pulled out a wrap dress, held it up to Melody, and then draped it over her arm. “Well of course you do - he’s Captain America.”

“It’s not just that,” Melody whined. “He’s just - he’s so fucking interesting. And nice. He’s so nice. I’ve never met a man who was so genuinely decent before. I like him so much.”

“Good god, woman,” Bobbi scolded. “You have a job to do!”

“I know, I know,” Melody relented. “And I swear, I’ll do it. I’ve been working so hard for this break. I’m not going to blow it now. But - maybe when it’s done…?”

Bobbi rolled her eyes and sighed. “Honey, you need to be realistic. He’s Captian-fucking-America.”

“I know…” Melody sighed. “I know you’re right, but he did invite me to this party. And maybe if he can get to know me a little he’ll want to spend more time with me after the article.”

“Maybe,” Bobbi said. “But don’t get your hopes up. And please - be careful. This is a big deal.”

“I know. I know,” she said and put the hat back. “I will. I promise.”

“Okay, so flirty. We can do flirty,” Bobbi said.

She scanned the room, and her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh my god,” she said, heading to the shoe section. Melody followed along, perplexed, and watched as she picked up a knee-high platform boot with large buckles up the side. “Please be my size, please be my size,” she said.

“Bobbi! Those aren’t going to work for tonight,” Melody protested.

“But look at them,” she said, caressing the side of the shoe. “I love them. I love them more than you love Captain America.”

Melody snorted and shook her head. “Fine, you try them on. I’m gonna see what I can find.”

She left Bobbi to try on her shoes as she browsed the racks of clothes for the perfect thing to wear that was professional enough to say journalist and flirty enough to make Steve Rogers see her as a potential romantic partner. It might not be the easiest thing to pull off, but she was determined to at least try.

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #marvel fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #ofc #smut #the interview

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invisiblemans-horror-corner · 11 months

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some Erik headcanons

these are based on Lon chaneys phantom specifically !

I would like to preface that I do ship the phantom with Christine so if that triggers you im sorry, and my views may not match everyone elses.

also this is for @zombinafonfrankenstein who asked if i had any headcanons on Erik I hope u enjoy : D

feels insecure about his balding, he likes to wear hats whenever possibly. he has a stolen collection of trilby/fedora/and top hats.

grows out his nails, if punching wont work I'm sure he'll scratch out someone's eyes lol. also it'd be cute if Christine paints them for him, I know he'll only choose black though to match his aesthetic.

Other than playing the organ I think he would enjoy other instruments as well, the violin being his second favorite.

and speaking of instruments He would definitely modify his organ painting the keys blood red and wood black, tuning it to his liking every so often. shining and cleaning it every week.

files his teeth, his little fangs are something that kind of happened over time, getting bigger and bigger, so he files them sharper.

does NOT sleep, this man is a workaholic. once he finds some type of rhythm in his head he will not sleep till he figures out the entire melody.

if there was ever a crossover with any other of the monsters I think he'd love to hang out with either dr.Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde Dracula or the Invisible Man.

master of chess, don't even try to win this man will rig the game if he has to so you can never win, and if you ever do LET ME TELL YOU this man is a sore loser, he will cry then throw the board across the room then scream how you must have cheated then cry once more. just let him win every time lol

i feel like the acid burns have a long lasting scent? like he forever smells like burnt toast or something and expensive perfume he stole.

(since I'm autistic I am gonna kinda self indulge a little here) I think he is autistic as well, yes he has alot of bad qualities and I know someone in the comments is gonna say thats bad representation, I dont care. not all autistic people are heavenly little silly people some of us are assholes. and Erik is definitely one. if anyone would like more examples on autistic headcanons I can do that in a separate post if you all want!

okay bye!

#phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #poto 1925 #poto #the phantom of the opera 1925 #erik phantom #lon chaney phantom #lon chaney #lon chaney phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1925 #phantom hc #phantom headcanons #universal monsters #universal monster headcanons

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foxyafroninja · 1 year

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Thoughts about the 141

I normally don’t write more than just blurbs because I tend to get bogged down with details cause I’m a protectionist and never happy with anything. But every time I hear this song I get butterflies in my stomach. This is a hurt/comfort fic.

~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>

So here we go…

Song- Better Place by Rachel Platten

~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\

The soft steady ‘ humm’ from overhead fluorescent lights filled Soaps ears. It’s droning melody danced with the steady ‘beep’s from the hospital equipment. It was both a comforting sound and caused his heart to tighten in his chest painfully. This shouldn’t have happened, he should have paid more attention, should have been quicker…. Should have protected you better.

They had just stopped the missile launch off that oil rig in the Gulf. After checking that Alejandro and his team was okay and accounted for they took a half a second to congratulate each other, that’s when it happened. He was sure he had cleared the room, positive all tangos were down, but he missed one.

When all their backs were turned, as his last act of defiance the Tango had shakily leveled his gun at you and fired one last shot. Instantly, Soap, Ghost and Graves spun around and finished him but it was too late. Blood…so much blood.

The ‘woosh’ of the hospital room door opening brought him back from his thoughts. Soaps muscles instantly snapped taught ready to spring from his chair. Upon his tired eyes verifying the intruders as Alejandro and Price his body went lax again, settling back into his seat.

Nothing was said at first, Alejandro placed another bundle of flowers on the table of ever growing gifts and then took his place at the foot of the bed. Price made his way to Soap, placing a strong hand on the young man’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Just’ chatted with the Doc,” Price spoke softly, “ Aur’ girls autt’a the woods, just’ hav’ to wait’ for her to wake up.”

Soap didn’t reply, simply nodded his head, not taking his eyes off you.

“Hermano,” Alejandro pushed, trying to get Soaps attention. “it’s not your fault, Okay? It was an accident.”

A hard look washed over Soaps face. Again, not taking his eyes of you, he growled under his breath. “ Aye, but Ah should’av been paying’ attention, should’av checked better, they’re in ‘at bed coz a me.”

“ Son, yau can’t’ keep blaming yaurself. Thes’ things happen.” Price sighed patting him on the shoulder. “ Yau eaten today?”

Soap shook his head again. Price clapped him on the shoulder one more time saying he and Alejandro would grab him something from the caf’ before they exited just quietly as they had entered.

Soap shifted his seat closer to you, gently took your hand in his and places a soft kiss on your knuckles. Bowing his head, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes, he pressed is forehead into your hand, whispering sweet nothings and apologies.

The first thing you felt was itchy bedsheets. Hospitals were never known for their comfortable bedding. The second thing was someone holding your hand in theirs. Your eye’s fluttered, then squinted against the overhead lights at first but they quickly adjusted and settled off the figure clutching your hand,head bowed.

“Johnny”

Your voice was rough and scratchy. John’s name came out in more of a strained croak than anything that sounded like you.

Soap’s head nearly flew off his shoulders it snapped up so quickly. His slightly bloodshot teary eyes wide with shock. He sat frozen in place for a second before timidly reaching to cup your cheek, afraid if he moved too fast you just disappear before him.

His calloused warm hand felt good on your skin. You turned to place a kiss to his palm before looking back at him. Soap couldn’t wait any longer and , careful of your wounds, launched himself at you planting kisses over your cheeks, nose and forehead, before landing a long loft kiss on your lips.

“I’m so sorry, lass. I’m sorry Ah let this happen. I’m sorry I’m sorry~” He continued to mumble against your mouth. Gently, you placed your hands on either side of his head and nudged him to move back so you could see his whole face.

The face of a physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted man looked back at you. Tears still stood in his eyes, waiting to be shed. You used your thumb to gingerly wipe them away, pressed your foreheads together, eyes closed and cooed softly.

“I’m alright, everything’s alright . You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I thought I lost ya’. ” Soap smiled nuzzling into you lightly.

“Never baby, not now not ever.” You whispered to him, guiding him to climb onto the small bed and settle in near to you.

Being extremely careful not to jostle you too much, Soap moved around to have your head tucked against his chest and his arms securely wrapped around you, trailing his fingers up and down your arm. Eventually your eyes closed and Soap was left alone again with the soft steady ‘beep’ of the medical machines. But now there was no tightness in his chest, just the feeling of you.

===========================

Well it’s my first big post done and over. A huge thank you to @multi-fandom-imagine for taking the time to beta read this for me. I hope you guys enjoyed it as well.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod mw22 #alejandro vargas #mw2 2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #mw 141 #captain price #soap x reader #song inspired #first fic

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