#Right Sedan Service

[gingeralecranberry]

PROLOGUE

𝟐-𝟎 ; 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 " 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 "

AND I’VE DONE IT ALL AGAIN

☺︎ cw:

mentions of death, snakes, mentions of snakes, yaga 🙂‍↕️

Masamichi Yaga. Grade 1 sorcerer, fledgling teacher.

He hadn't been on a mission in a long time, too busy settling into his new job. Of course, he should've been grateful his superiors gave him a grace period at all. The shortage of sorcerers didn't affect the demand for their services. Whether he was in front of a chalkboard or a horrifying amalgam of nightmares, humans would feel their negative emotions. Those emotions would fester. Curses would keep being born and the godforsaken cycle would go on. He knew he'd be returning to the frontlines sooner rather than later.

Still, reclining against the beige leather seats of the Black Sedan, his mind kept recounting the details of the assignment like a mantra. Reports suggested the presence of a grade 1 curse, large, menacing, but most importantly, dangerous.

They'd only really caught a glimpse of the slippery beast from afar. Estimated to be approximately 30 feet in length and an ugly brown, it resembled a three-headed cobra with cracked, spotty scales and slimy skin. Worse yet, the underside of the cobra's hood was dotted with all-consuming, beady, black eyes that looked like mini blackholes boring through cursed flesh. The entity had been reported and registered a few days prior. At the time, there weren't any qualified sorcerers available to exorcize it.

At least, there hadn't been until now.

Brushing his thumb curiously across the unkempty stubble on his chin, he watched the scenery of Okinawa roll past the window. Unfurling like a pop-up storybook, the rural countryside this close to the shore was gorgeous. Clear, sun-bleached skies sparsely brushed with the dreamiest clouds. Greenery lay tranquil across the soil like a warm blanket, occasionally swaying in the wing. Solemnly, he noted even the happiest places on earth weren't completely free from curses.

"Yaga? Are you listening?"

"Sorry."

With his thoughts interrupted, he turned his attention back to the car he was in. It was extremely clean, polished leather gleaming and the freshly vacuumed floors soft underneath the sole of his shoe. Still, it reminded him too much of a showroom; empty, only temporarily idyllic.

The supervisor, a young brunette with sunburnt skin and a decently stocky build, only shrugged at him in response. "Eh, I get it. I'm used to sorcerers ignoring me most of the time anyways."

Yage shook his head, recollecting his focus on the back of the driver's leather jacket. "No, I'm sure it was important. I'm listening now."

Manato Inoue, his supervisor, seemed to brighten up, "Just some basic mission details, you didn't miss much." His left-hand haphazardly slapped his turn signal, "The curse was actually born a few miles away from where it is right now. Weird right?" The older man in the car grunted in response. "Well, even weirder, when it managed to get out into a more populated area, it didn't attack anyone. Eventually, after a day or so of observation, it became a low priority case."

"..."

Unbothered by his passenger's silence, he continued, "Then, out of the blue, it just kinda... I don't know, snapped?"

"...snapped?"

"Yeah, it's a tragedy really, from what I heard, the running theory is that the curse has some kind of trigger," once again the quiet 'click!' of the turn signal locking back into place toyed with the silence in the air. "It struck in a residential area, small family lived there. It's confirmed the father is dead, he was found on the front lawn and his wife was a few feet away on the porch. The youngest is presumed dead, too. So far, we only have hope for the oldest son."

Yaga nodded thoughtfully, "He was at school, right?"

Inoue hummed, eyes trained on the path in front of him. The asphalt road was starting to thin, smooth material replaced with the rough grain of gravel on his wheels. The further they drove, the narrower the path became. "He hasn't been seen at home today, we're hoping he went to a friend's house to study or something."

"Poor kid, Okinawa schools were going to close for summer soon."

"Correct," the car jumped as one of the front wheels rolled over a particularly large bump, "That's why we're hoping he left to study, he's probably got a lot of tests lined up and ready."

"Thank you, Inoue," Yaga mumbled, "The heads-up is much appreciated."

The older man caught a glimpse of the driver's cheeky grin and lax disposition in the rearview mirror, "Hey, don't thank me, you're the one that's about to risk your life."

"Still," Yaga insisted, "I'll be a lot more prepared this way. You could be saving my neck."

"Hey now," the supervisor countered, "don't get sentimental on me!" His lips parted to reveal a much more flustered smile. He cleared his throat, "The house is just around the corner, it's about time you put your game face on, get in the zone or what have you. If you die, I won't have anyone to talk to anymore."

The car turned off the gravel path, worn dirt tracks the only sign anybody had gone the same way beforehand. The men were faced with a seemingly endless menagerie of flora, thick and woven together like a barrier.

"That's... weird. I don't remember any details like that from the report."

Still, realizing the car had little to no chance of threading the needle and making it through the shrubbery, Inoue slowed to a stop a few meters away from the web of plants.

Upon closer inspection, the twist and tangle of the branches was anything but natural. They molded into one another, fusing trees and continuing to grow into one giant misshapen lump. The leaves didn't add much to the barricade, maybe decoration. Largely, the construct consisted of uncanny angles and ugly interlocking.

Already, Yaga could feel something bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. Something was horribly wrong.

Inoue, on the other hand, exited the car without hesitation, heading for the trunk of his trusty Sedan.

With a healthy dose of trepidation, Yaga began to follow suit. Prying himself from the comfort and safety of the vehicle, it felt like he'd gotten a brick thrown straight at his sternum. Almost immediately, he could feel his lungs squeeze, shriveling up as he struggled to intake air. His heart jumped into his throat, bobbing up and down his neck. The air was musky, ripe with cursed energy. Despite his own rather large reserves of cursed energy, the sheer density of the concentration sent his thoughts spiraling away with the abysmal fog.

"-aga, Yaga!"

He jumped, finally coming around after his supervisor's large, calloused hand landed squarely on his shoulder.

"Geez, you're really out of it today," Elbowing him in the side, Manato tacked on a sarcastic remark to try and lighten the mood, "You need to get out of your office more, you look like you're losing it."

With the muck clouding his senses beginning to retreat to the edges of his vision, he assessed the situation at hand. Quickly, he noted the horde of cursed corpses bundled up in his chauffer's arms. His eyes landed on one in particular. Cathy, a round mint green stuffed animal. The top of her head was peculiarly bald, framed with a blue fuzz. Yaga flicked his fingers, watching as his creations began to stir.

Inoue hummed, letting the various strange looking dolls crawl out of his arms, "Well, are you ready?"

Yaga glanced back at the opening, hoping to snatch a glance at the house hidden within. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Like a switch had flipped, the other man wiped the carefree smile off his face and retired his normally laidback attitude. Closing his eyes, two fingers raised adjacent to his heart, he began to lower the veil.

"Emerge from darkness blacker still, purify that which is impure."

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten

masterlist ☓

[gretavangroupie]

Drift

Word count: 7.2k+

Pairing: Josh x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff.

 “Two percent?!” you screech.

Looking down at the cellphone in your lap as you follow the winding directions you see the red battery icon and your anxiety starts to bloom. Your signal has been spotty at best and the constant in and out of service has drained your battery quicker than anticipated. With another hour to go you are starting to panic. Of course your phone would die while you are somewhere in the mountains. 

It started snowing last night, and unfortunately has stuck around. So when the snow didn’t stop this morning you knew you would be in for an eventful drive home. Six inches turned into ten very quickly, and the roads were becoming slick. Your little sedan was not equipped for this type of weather, something you were pretty sure you wouldn't experience in Nashville but boy were you wrong.  

The two lane road you found yourself upon currently was slightly off the beaten path, on the side of a mountain. Houses sprinkled in here and there, with their long winding driveways, painted white in a wintery scene. In different circumstances you would think it was quite beautiful, but right now, your white knuckle grip on the steering wheel has made you feel differently. Your windshield wipers are going full blast, further obscuring your view of the winding back road. You glance down to your phone to check the directions.

Four miles until you turn right.

As you read the directions out, you're met with a loud thump as your car moves 60 miles per hour over a perfectly placed pot hole, jostling you, your car and its contents.

“Shit!” you cry out as your head bounced back on the headrest.

Reaching down to pick your phone up off the floor, you type in your password and unlock it. But that was all it took. That measly 1% was gone in an instant. Panic swept over you, all you knew was that you had 4, maybe 3 miles now until you turn right. But what about the rest of the directions?

Okay, next shopping center I see, I will stop and grab a car charger. 

The snow is falling quickly, and the sun is setting, leaving you to only rely on the light from your hi beams. You swallow thickly as you squint to see the lines on the road. You haven’t seen a car pass you in what feels like forever. 

I knew it was a bad idea to get off the interstate.

You saw it, but it was too late. You couldn't react in time. If you slammed on your breaks your car would go sliding into the ravine. So you hit it. Whatever it was. It looked like a crow bar or some type of bent metal. That's what it sounded like too. As your car met with the object you heard a loud popping and you knew your night just got ten times worse. Your car began to limp further down the road with a metallic clatter against the wet asphalt.

You see a driveway in the distance and decide to push forward to pull into it, against your better judgment. As you pull off into the entry of the long driveway you put your car in park and immediately get out and see that your front left tire is completely blown out. The combination of the pothole earlier, and whatever that metal thing was, has left you stranded in the drift of someone's driveway. 

You get back into your car and grab your phone, realizing that it died 15 minutes ago. As you sit back into the seat you rub your hands over your face and wonder what you did to deserve this. You turn on your hazard lights and pray that someone drives by and stops. But you know the likelihood of that happening is slim. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to drive in conditions like this. 

As you wrack your brain for what to do, it occurs to you. 

Maybe, there is someone in the house at the end of this driveway…

You know that this area that you are in is home to most peoples vacation homes, tucked deep into the side of the mountain. The chances of someone being here are small, but not zero. You grab your coat out of the backseat and put it on. From the looks of it, this driveway is fairly long and the snow is piled high and growing by the minute.

Turning off your car, you grab your dead cell phone, and your keys and get out. Now that the sun had set it was dark, and the wind was cutting like a thousand knives. You lock your useless car and shove your keys into your coat pocket. You pull your hood over your head and thank yourself for choosing a pair of sensible boots this morning. 

As you walk the long snowy, gravel lined driveway you think to yourself that it must be a mile long, and uphill at that. Just as you think it could stretch on for another mile, you see a soft yellow light ahead of you. A light is on in the house. 

Oh my god, someone is here.

Knowing that the house more than likely is warm, has your feet picking up their pace and landing you at the edge of the trees, opening up to the clearing where the occupied house sits. There is one car parked outside of the house and you can hear the soft vibrations of noise from inside. The house is large, old, and wooden. You can see that there are two stories and the ivy growing on the side of the house gives it a certain type of rustic charm you don't see too often anymore. There is smoke filling the air, coming from a chimney, and huge glass windows adorn the entire front of the house.  

As you step up to the porch you brush the snow off of your coat and hood, pulling your frozen hand out of your pocket and nervously knocking on the black wooden front door.  

The large glass window set into the door has you holding your breath as you see a figure approaching from across the house. Pulling a hoodie over their torso, they peer through the glass to see you standing there and run their hand over their face, as the door opens.

“How did you get this address?” he says. 

You nervously stare back at him, “I– I didn’t…my car –I hit something. My phone is dead– I…” you stammer.

“You hit something?!” he asks, shocked.

“Yeah, it was dark, and the snow – I couldn't see. I think it was a crowbar or something.” you reply anxiously.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned.  

“Yeah, I am okay. I am so sorry to bother you. My front tire blew out and my phone is dead so I can’t call Triple A…Do you think I could borrow your phone or, could you call, or…” you stammer.

“Yes, absolutely, come in. It’s freezing.” he says, opening the door. You can feel the warmth radiating from inside and graciously step into the house.

“Do you have your phone? I can plug it in?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah!” you say fumbling into your coat pocket and handing him the freezing device. 

“My god, your hands are freezing! Here, come sit here by the fire.” he says, leading you from the front door, and into the open, spacious living room. He points to the couch next to the fireplace and says he will be right back. He runs up the wooden staircase and you can hear some banging around upstairs before you see him quickly flying back down the stairs, waving a phone charger in his hand. 

You look around the house, and are intrigued by the charm of the renovated old home. The cobblestone fireplace, the wooden beams adorning nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s a split level home but it has an open floor plan, granting you visual access to almost every part of the house. Small sets of stairs lead to various rooms and loft areas. It’s a very uniquely designed floor plan, and you are interested in the history of the home. Admiring its charming old quality, your eyes flit around but stop when you see the massive windows. You are instantly taken with the wall of windows providing a picturesque view of the snowy scene outside. It’s very charming and you find yourself relaxing into the cozy couch by the fireplace, staring into the snowy sight. 

“Better?” he asks, walking down the steps into the living room, before sitting in a chair across from you. 

Realizing how you must look, you shoot straight up and fix your posture. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Thank you. This is a really cool home.” you say nervously fidgeting with your coat. 

“Oh, thank you, I moved in about two years ago now. Still fixing things up here and there. Trying to bring it up to date without losing its rustic qualities.” he smiles. “I’m Josh by the way.”

“Oh, god, how rude I didn't even ask your name before I made myself at home on your couch.” you laugh. You introduce yourself and shake his hand, which is much warmer than yours and oddly soft. The room is dimly lit by the floor lamp in the corner and the small fixtures illuminating the bookcase in the upstairs loft. The fireplace is glowing brightly behind you. You can see the flames dancing along rhythmically in his eyes. Honey brown and glossy, he must have been drinking before you interrupted his night. 

“When my phone turns on, I will call Triple A and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” you say biting your lip.

“What in the world are you doing driving in this weather?” he asks.

“I was driving back home. I went to visit my parents for the week. The traffic on 40 was so bad, I decided to take a back road thinking it would be faster, but then I got lost and my phone was dying, then this happened... It was not a good choice in hindsight.” you laugh. 

“You’re brave. I’m from Michigan and even I wouldn’t be driving right now.” he smiles, his cheeks scrunching tightly beneath his eyes.

He is sort of…cute. Maybe in different circumstances…

“I know, it’s not too much farther…I think? I feel really bad that I interrupted your night.” you say pointing to the movie that is paused on the TV screen.

“Ahh, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen it a thousand times.” he says, waving his hand in the air.

You focus on it, and recognize the character on the screen. “Is– Is it A Clockwork Orange?” you ask, suspiciously.

He seems taken aback as he replies, “Yeah. Yeah it is…” a twinkle of intrigue in his eyes.

“Cool, that's a great film.” you say, politely.

A small smile forms at the side of his mouth, “Yeah, it really is...” he looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself.

Why do I feel like I am supposed to be here?

“Well, I should go see if my phone is turned on. I have bothered you long enough.” you say standing up, and walking up the small set of stairs into the kitchen. 

“It’s on the kitchen counter by the fridge.” he calls out to you.

As you grab your phone you see it has come back to life, and you quickly dial out the number for Triple A. You lean over onto the counter as the call rings out. You stare out the windows at the snow still continuing to fall and explain to the man on the phone exactly what happened.

“What do you mean…But I don’t…. I can’t get anywhere…. Okay. Alright. Yeah, thank you.” you end the call staring at the screen dumbfounded. 

As you stand there silently trying to figure out your next move you see Josh walk into the kitchen to join you at the counter. He leans his hip onto the countertop, facing you.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his curly brown hair falling onto his forehead. 

You turn to face him and with a blank face you set your phone back on the counter. “No. Apparently they can’t send any trucks out until the morning after they plow the roads. The snow is too bad on the mountain?” you question.

He shakes his head, “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Listen, I don’t want to sound forward but, you are welcome to stay here until the morning. I have a guest room, and anything you might need.” he says kindly.

“Oh wow, that is so nice of you to offer, but I really feel like I am intruding. I mean, you don’t even know me.” you say. 

“The alternative is what? You sleeping in your freezing cold car? No. I know we don’t know each other, but I am a human being and from one human being to another, please. Stay. You can leave as soon as you’d like in the morning. They should have the roads plowed by 7:00.” he says, scratching the back of his neck. 

You stop for a second to think, but something is pulling you to stay. 

“Are you positive that I am in no way putting you out?” you ask, hesitantly.

“Absolutely not. Glad to lend a helping hand. I mean, you must be alright if you knew I was watching A Clockwork Orange.” he smiles.

You nod your head, agreeing and his face lights up with a smile.

“Should we… finish it?” he asks. You bite your lip and stare at him. You know his brown puppy dog eyes have never been rejected in his life. You can feel it.

“Okay, I guess we could. But can I use the bathroom first?” you ask.

“Oh, of course. If you step through that guest room, it’s in there.” he says pointing across the kitchen. 

“Thank you.” you say nervously.

As you make your way into the bathroom, you quickly relieve yourself and wash your hands, noticing the eclectic artwork hanging on the walls in the bedroom. He has very interesting taste in furniture and decor, but it kind of fits the feel of the house perfectly.  As you make your way back into the living room you step down into the warm space, and see Josh waiting for your return sitting on one side of the couch with his feet crossed on the coffee table. 

“All good?” he asks, he has noticed you have removed your coat and grants you a smile.

“Yeah, thanks. I am sure you didn’t see your night going this way.” you laugh as you sit down on the opposite side of the couch. But you feel it. A magnetism to be closer to him. 

What? You don't even know him…

“You’re right I didn’t but I’m kinda glad it did.” he smirks with sultry eyes.

Maybe he feels it too…

You feel your cheeks blush as he unpauses the movie, and it roars back to life. 

You spend the next hour talking instead of watching the movie, discussing the theories surrounding it and even further discussing Stanley Kubrick. You have a lot of the same opinions on his work and career. Josh is super knowledgeable about film making and even tells you how it was always his dream to be a filmmaker himself. Your heart warms at the fact that he is passionate enough to tell a complete stranger about his dreams.

You talk until the fire in the fireplace dies down and you find yourselves sitting in a dark living room, lit only by the small lamps on the book case. 

He looks over at you and stares for a second, “Let me go grab you some clothes for you to sleep in, I'll be right back.” 

“Oh, that's not necessary, I will be okay, really. I can just sleep in this.” you reply.

“Please, I insist.” he says standing and walking up the stairs, his bare feet padding up the wooden steps. 

You stand awkwardly in the living room, waiting for him to return. You walk over to the windows and stare out at the snow, still falling. You walk back into the living room, and notice the bookcase on the second floor loft. You look around to see if Josh is coming back and when you see that he isn't, you make your way up the stairs and over to the full book shelves. 

Browsing the titles you see a lot of classics. You run your index finger over the spines, stopping on names you recognize. The leather bound books are beautifully displayed and lit with tiny sconces on the front of the shelves. Bending down to look at the next row of books, you are surprised when you notice Josh standing next to you.

“Well, what do you think? Any good ones?” he laughs.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn't mean to pry. Well, actually. Maybe I did.” you smile. “But yeah, all the classics, you are well read.”

“I spend a lot of time traveling, and books are a great way to pass the time. I pull a lot of inspiration from these old books.” he says. He reaches a stack of clothes out to you and your hands brush his. You both recoil and look at each other like you have been zapped by lightning.

Surely he felt that?

You grab the stack from him, and look down. “Thank you.”

He bites his cheek like he wants to say something, but again, doesn’t.

“Come on, I will show you the guest room and get you some blankets.” he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

After a few minutes he has retrieved a few blankets for you and provided you with an extra phone charger, handing them to you with a soft smile. In the dim lighting you can see the dimple that forms in his cheek, perfectly situated above a tiny scar.

“I will turn the heat on a little warmer, sometimes it gets cold because of the windows. If you need me, I’m at the top of the stairs to the left.” he smiles, and shuts the door behind him.

You sit on the bed examining the pile of clothes he has so graciously brought you. A long sleeve white tee shirt and a pair of well loved sweatpants. You peel your clothes off of you, and slide into the much comfier attire. Maybe he was right, this will be warmer.

You plug your phone into the charger and spread the extra blanket over the twin size bed. You flip the switch on the wall and climb into the bed. You lay there hearing the wind whip against the old house. You think about your evening and how it went so completely different than you imagined. You are sleeping in a stranger's bed? The room is quiet except for the sound of the snow falling on the windows. You drift off to sleep and think of the beautiful curly haired man sleeping right above you. 

You wake yourself up shivering. Your eyes open and you're met with total darkness. The light from the alarm clock long gone, the air growing colder by the second. The distant whirr of the refrigerator reduced to nothing. The power must have gone out. Your feet are frozen, hands too. Trying to pull the blankets closer to yourself you realize they are already as close as they could be. Your body shivers under the sheets. If only you had some socks you could make it through until morning. 

You lay there for a few minutes trying to rub your feet together to create some warmth, but nothing was working. Your brain remembers the fire in the living room. It had been a few hours since it had gone out, but surely the hearth was still warm. You grab your phone, and turn on the flashlight, illuminating the floor below you. You quietly twist the door knob on the old door, and tiptoe through the hallway into the kitchen. Looking around, you see that the power is definitely out. Walking quietly down the small set of steps you find a place on the hearth of the fireplace, only to find that it too, has grown cold.

Rubbing your freezing cold hands together you think back to what Josh told you. ‘If you need anything, I’m up the stairs to the left.’ You think about going up there to ask for socks but quickly talk yourself out of it. As you look out the large windows it seems the snow has finally stopped falling, but it has accumulated quite a few inches. More than likely making the power fail. 

You scroll through your phone on the couch, but your service is weak. You can't get anything to load. Tiredness begins to creep in on you as the stinging stiffness in your hands and feel remind you of their temperature. 

Okay, just do it. Just go ask for some socks. Tell him the power is out. He will understand. 

Setting your phone on the coffee table you swallow deeply and quietly make your way up to cold wooden stairs. When you reach the landing you turn to his door, which isn’t a door at all. There is no door, it’s just an open archway. The sight in front of you nearly takes your breath away. He has a fireplace up here, and it is still glowing with embers. Your legs carry you over to it where you place your hands and are greeted with the feeling of warmth. 

Inadvertently you release a sigh as you feel your extremities warming. You hear the bed rustle behind you and you flip around, not even fully realizing that you are standing in this mans bedroom. He leans up on his arm, and you can see his eyes slowly opening as he sees you standing in front of his bed. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice light and groggy. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just– the power went out, and I was so cold I was just going to come ask you for some socks…” you stammer. “But then I saw the fireplace from the doorway, and my legs carried me here. I thought maybe if I could just warm my hands and feet I would be okay.”

He peels the blanket off of himself and stands up pushing his hair out of his face. His body clad in only his black boxer briefs, showcases his chiseled torso, glowing in the fireplace embers. You have to peel your eyes off of him as he walks across the room. 

He returns a minute later with a pair of wool camping socks, “For your feet.” he says, handing you the socks. You reach out to grab them and his hand brushes yours sending that same electricity through your system.

“My god, you are freezing!” he says. How long have you been awake and cold?” 

Bending down to pull the socks over your feet you answer, “I’m not sure, maybe twenty minutes?” 

“Why didn’t you come up here sooner?” he asks, grabbing your cold hands in his warm ones, rubbing them together to attempt to warm them. 

“Well, you were already nice enough to let me stay here, I didn't want to wake you up too.” you say bashfully. Your eyes travel down his body and back up. “Aren’t you… cold?” you ask.

“No, I’m a warm sleeper.” he answers.

“Ah, that sounds nice.” slips from your mouth before you even can register what you’ve said.

You clamp your hand over your mouth in regret and he smiles, a giggle almost leaving his chest.

“You know, I figured I would lose power. I’m not surprised. How about this… why don’t you stay up here? I will throw another log on, and we can both be warm.” he says, with innocent eyes. 

Your eyes travel to the bed behind him, plush with white fluffy duvets and blankets. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as he goes to speak again, “It’s a big bed. We won’t even touch. I just won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re down there shivering.”

He bends over and tosses another log onto the embers, poking it with the fire poker until it lights. Feeling the warmth on your back, you look back to him. “Okay, but only because I am freezing.”

“I know. I’ll get you warm, don’t worry.” he smiles. 

He walks over to the other side of his bed, pulling back the blankets and gesturing for you to slide in. He pulls the thick blankets over you and nods his head as he tucks you in.

Wow. 

You can’t even think of a time when someone took care of you like this. It’s kind of sweet.

He walks back to the fireplace and prods the log making sure it won’t roll off, and closes the mesh divider. 

He makes his way back to the bed, returning to the warm spot he left only minutes ago, sighing in relief as warmth washes over him as he pulls the duvet back over his now slightly chilled body. 

He rolls to face you, though you are on your back, eyes cast to the ceiling. You can feel his eyes staring into the side of your head, so you turn your head to look at him. The room is dark, the only light coming from the small flames in front of the bed. The orange hues dance across his cheeks, highlighting his cheekbones, and producing a sparkle in his tired eyes. 

“Do you feel it?” he whispers.

You feel your heart leap in your chest as your breath catches in your throat, “What?” you ask, nervously.

“The fire, do you feel it?” he asks.

God…

“Oh, yeah, I do. Thank you… for letting me stay up here. This is beyond…hospitable.” you reply, turning your body to face him in the bed. 

“Are you warming up?” he asks, the log crackling in the fireplace. 

“Yes, I’m starting to. I think it will take longer for my hands and feet.” you giggle.

“Here,” he says, reaching across, grabbing your hands and clasping them tightly between his. “Mine are plenty warm.”

You feel the electricity traveling through your body, and from the look on his face, he feels it too. A light hum leaves your chest as the warmth of his hands works quickly to heat your own.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, you are positive that he can see the pink blush creeping across your cheeks as you stifle a nervous smile.

“Yeah, it does. You’re lucky you’re so hot.” the words falling from your lips before you can stop them, something that seems to be happening far too often. 

A smirk flashes across his face as you stumble trying to correct yourself. “Warm, I meant warm. Not hot. I’m sorry... But, not that you aren’t hot, you are. Really. But–I meant…I’m not making this better am I...” you sigh.

“No, you know what? I think it’s perfect.” he says, his hand gripping yours, thumbs gently exploring the valleys and peaks of your knuckles.

“You do?” you ask quietly.

“Mhmm…” he hums. The rumble from his chest sends a shiver through your body.

You can feel your body temperature rising, but it isn’t from the fire. Josh’s hand releases yours and your eyes flick down as he pulls them away. He notices your furrowed brow and looks up at you.

“I told you we don’t have to touch.” he smirks, rolling to his back, positioning his hands behind his head. You roll back to your back, mimicking his actions. 

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes. You can hear the wind whipping against the windows, the thought causing you to shiver. You let your eyes travel the length of his body under the sheets and you bite your cheek as you meet his bare chest moving slowly up and down with each breath.

Pursing your lips together, you let your foot wander across the bed until it makes contact with his. You let the tips of your toes trace the curve of his ankle, as you watch a small smile play upon his lips. 

He turns his foot to meet yours, rubbing slowly over the top of yours as he twists his body to face you again. He places his hand next to his face on the pillow, pushing down the fluffy feather filled fabric, “So you do want to touch?”

You turn your body to face him, letting your foot slide up his leg, feeling the soft hairs tickle you. “Maybe a little…” you answer.

“You feel it too, don't you.” he asks. But this time, you know he isn’t talking about the fire. 

“Feel what, Josh…” you say in a playfully sultry tone.

“This.” He grabs your arm and pulls you as close to him as possible, his bare chest pressed directly to yours. 

Your legs intertwine with his as his hand cradles the back of your neck. Yours rests on his warm chest. He really wasn’t kidding about the warm sleeper thing.

Your fingertip traces the line of his collarbone as your eyes flick up to his, “Yes…I feel it too.”

You feel his breath on your forehead and you sink into him, as his body heat warms you quickly.

Feeling bold, you press a barely there kiss to his throat, stretched taut over your head. You feel his Adam's apple bob against your lips as your lips connect with his skin. His legs twitch against yours and you feel a warmth creeping down your center.

A closed mouth groan rumbles through his chest as his grip on you tightens. You have never made the first move, but tonight wasn’t a normal night. He was a stranger. A beautiful, warm stranger and you had already taken the first chance by knocking on his door.

You feel him hardening against your stomach and you smile up at him. His eyes have grown dark with want and you know yours probably look the same. “Josh…” you ask.

“Hmmm…” he hums into the top of your head.

“You know you could have just started a fire downstairs… I could have slept on the couch.” you say.

“You’re right. I could have, but I knew both of us weren’t going to fit on the couch.” he replies, voice soft as velvet.

“So you did want me in your bed…” you tease.

“From the second you asked me if I was watching A Clockwork Orange…” he says.

You crane your neck, lips furiously in search of his. You would be lying if you said you didn't catch yourself staring at his plush pink lips all night as he spoke of his passions. Thought about how they would feel, how they would taste. You thought about kissing the tiny scar you noticed on his cheek in the guest room. But nothing you imagined came close to how he actually felt. How he actually tasted. His tongue slides across your bottom lip as it begs for entry into your mouth. Slightly parting your lips he slides in, his tongue searching for yours.

You twist your fingers into his curly hair and it’s softer than you imagined. His lips pull away from yours and you whine at the loss of the heat of his tongue against yours. His lips connect with your jaw and neck as you scratch your nails against his scalp. You feel him hum against your neck as you pull on his hair, begging him for more. 

“You like that?” he murmurs against your skin. 

“Yes… kee– keep going…” you beg.

“God you’re sweet. I have to know you.” he says, as his kisses travel further down your neck. You feel his warm hand slide underneath the hem of the borrowed white shirt. His hand radiates heat across the sensitive skin of your stomach burning a path as it travels up. 

His eyes look to yours for permission, and he takes your deepend kiss as a yes as his hand connects with your hardened nipple. A moan leaves your mouth and travels into his and he rolls the taut flesh between his thumb and forefinger. 

He releases it as he grabs a handful of your breast, massaging the pliable skin. Sliding your knee upwards between his legs, you feel his full erect length straining through his boxers. You press your pelvis into his causing him to groan and pull you in tighter. 

“I want you to know me Josh, all of me.” you say, reaching down to grasp him in your hand. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You detach your lips from his neck as you respond with a nod, “Didn’t you say you would warm me up?”

“I did say that, didn’t I…” he teases, lifting the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head. As you lay there next to him, the orange glow of the fireplace reflects onto your skin.

“Shit, you are…for once I don’t have words.” he smiles.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you laugh.

“Good. I always have words. My brothers give me shit for it all the time. But you have me speechless…” he says with a smile.

You blush, and you're positive that even in the dark room he can see it. His dimple shows through and you pull his neck down to connect your lips with his once more. 

Your hands travel down his sides, feeling his soft smooth skin beneath your hands. Supporting himself with one hand next to your head, the other hand skims to the top of the black sweatpants, teasing the sensitive skin across your hip bones.

He hooks a finger into the waistband and tugs downward pulling them to rest at your knees. You kick them the rest of the way off, leaving you bare beneath him.

“I can’t believe you got a flat in front of my house. I can’t believe I was actually here.” he says as if thanking God for his good fortune. 

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” you whisper.

“I travel a lot. I’m not here probably six months out of the year.” he answers.

You know you want to dive deeper into that at a later time, because right now, you need him. Like you need air. Lungs burning from not having him. 

You look directly into his beautiful brown eyes as you quickly rid him of his boxers. He kicks them off and your eyes travel down his chest to see the outline of his length glowing in the fire light between you.

He drops down to place wet kisses over your stomach and hips. Stopping and looking up at you as he presses a kiss to the mound between your legs. His tongue slips out and licks a warm path up your center causing you to breath sharply at the contact. Your hips flex backwards as your body silently begs for more friction. He pushes your legs apart slightly as he repeats the same motion, a sigh releasing from your chest. 

His tongue pointedly circles around your clit, you groan becoming more audible. His hand reaches up and grabs yours placing it on the top of his head. He wants your hands in his hair and you willingly oblige. 

Weaving your fingers through the curls you find yourself instinctively pressing down on his head to bring him closer. A growl racks through his chest. 

“Josh… I….” you whine.

His lips detach from you, “I know beautiful, give it to me. I want it.” he demands.

His tongue begins to furiously swipe against you and within seconds you are free falling into your release bucking your hips up into his mouth. The moan from your chest echoing through the silent house. As you float there in the darkness you feel his mouth leave you, and once you’re fully back, you feel him pressing kisses to your thighs. 

“Josh…I want you.” you say, pulling him up to hover over you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “You can have whatever you want, as long as you keep making pretty sounds like that.”

Gripping his dick in your now much warmer hand, you pull him to you, pressing him against your soaked core. 

You let go as he takes the lead, slowly sliding into you with a whispered ‘fuck.’

You adjust to him quickly, almost as if your body had been waiting for him since the minute he opened the door. His curls hang down his forehead as he sets a steady pace moving back and forth inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as your lips find his. You can taste yourself, but more, you can taste him. His essence. You can smell his earthy scent, pouring from his skin. Like a mix of damp wood and sweet vanilla. 

He rolls his hips into you eliciting a moan from your mouth. He does it again receiving the same response and a smile crosses his face. His thrusts become harsher, hitting the spot you so desperately need him to hit, and he does. Flawlessly. Your moans fill the air in the room. 

“I have heard so many things in my life, but god damn if this one isn’t my favorite.” he says, punctuating the sentence with the most sinful groan and you tighten around him. 

“Fuck… just like that gorgeous.” he says pressing deeper with each thrust.

“Josh, fuck…” you whine.

“You gonna give me another one baby? I want it…Need to feel you cum on my cock.” he pants. His hips begin to falter, thrusting wildly and inconsistently. You can tell he is close and you’re not far behind him. 

You squeeze around him as your fingernails dig into the soft skin of his back.  “Please, harder.” you beg.

Sweat drips down the side of his neck as he bites his bottom lip, thrusting into you harder than he has been, the smack of skin ringing through the vaulted ceilings. “Fuck, you want it hard baby? God you’re fucking perfect.” his hips snapping into you repeatedly like a rubberband. 

You toss your head back as you feel your stomach tightening. 

“Ahhh… fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking good… I won’t last much longer, I need you to cum for me angel. Let me have it.” he begs.

His words send you spiraling into your second release, tensing around his cock so hard, that he meets his own ending. You feel him pulsing inside of you. Groaning with each spurt your name falling from his lips like a prayer. 

His breathing is erratic as he collapses onto your chest, his messy curls tickling your face. You giggle as you push them away from your nose. He rolls off on you and onto his pillow, turning his head to face you as his breathing evens out. 

He pulls you close to him, your head laying on his chest. You listen to his heart beating and feel the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers run through your hair, occasionally twisting a strand around his finger, feeling the silkiness of it between his digits. His fingertips massage your scalp practically putting you to sleep.

“You live in Nashville, right?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.

You nod your head against his chest. “I do.”

“Good.” he replies.

You kiss his chest and he places a kiss on the top of your hair, letting his arm fall loosely around your back. Sleep overtaking both of you, finally warm.

When your eyes open, you see daylight. It is bright, brighter than usual. The sky is gray and heavy with snow clouds, an ominous reminder of what looks to be another snow storm impending. Sitting up, you find yourself still in the king size bed in Josh’s room. You see now in the light of day, the entirety of the wall of windows that overtakes the back portion of his home. His bedroom opening up to the bright light of the day as soon as the sun would begin to rise. You see that he has gone from next to you, and you bite your lip, wondering if he regrets what happened. 

You pull yourself out of the warmth of the bed and redress yourself in the borrowed clothes flung onto the floor with haste last night. You make his bed, a gentle thank you, for him to find later, before you step out of the doorway and make your way down the shiny wooden steps. 

The power is back on, evident by the smell of the coffee pouring out of the kitchen. You look around the house but you don’t see Josh. Where did he go?

You walk to the coffee pot situated next to the stove, and begin opening the cabinet doors looking for a mug. Settling on a blue mug with the state of Michigan on it, you pour the steaming hot liquid into the mug, breathing in deeply the invigorating scent. 

You carry the hot mug into the guest room, setting it on the bedside table as you change back into your own clothes. A few minutes later as you reemerge with the empty mug, you see Josh standing at the counter. He has on a sweatshirt and pants, and his hands are dirty. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold outside air.

“I was wondering where you went.”  you say sheepishly, placing your mug on the counter. 

“I woke up and decided, ‘Who needs Triple A’... I can do it. So I went and dug your car out of the snow, and changed your flat. I have to admit, I haven’t had to do anything like that in a while. Probably since I was home in Michigan. It may have taken me longer than it should but … it was kinda nice. But I will admit it was hard to peel myself away from you this morning.” he smiles.

“You didn’t have to do that!” you implore, “Gosh I feel so bad, I already feel like I have imposed so much!”

Peeling his hoodie off, he rushes to you. “You weren’t an imposition. You were the unexpected surprise I needed. The best surprise.” he says, grabbing your hands. “Last night was…perfect and I want to see you again. In fact I don’t even want you to go.” he says shyly.

“Really?” you ask, nervously.

“Yeah, but I understand you probably need to…” he says looking down to the floor. Your heart clenches realizing how nervous he is, and that’s when you decide.

“I actually have nowhere to be… but… I do need a shower and I’ll probably need some clothes.” you smirk.

“You know…I think I can help with that.” he smiles.

You peer out the window behind him, snow flurries just beginning to fall as you ask, “Have you ever seen 2001: A Space Odyssey? I feel like you’d like it…”

He shakes his head in amazement as a smile spreads across his face, making way for his perfect dimple. With his look suddenly turning to a devilish grin, he throws you over his shoulder and carries you up the stairs, laughing the whole way. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Big Train managers earn bonuses for greenlighting unsafe cars

Tomorrow (November 16) I'll be in Stratford, Ontario, appearing onstage with Vass Bednar as part of the CBC IDEAS Festival. I'm also doing an afternoon session for middle-schoolers at the Stratford Public Library.

Almost no one knows this, but last June, a 90-car train got away from its crew in Hernando, MS, rolling three miles through two public crossings, a ghost train that included 47 potentially explosive propane cars. The "bomb train" neither crashed nor derailed, which meant that Grenada Railroad/Gulf & Atantic didn't have to report it.

This is just one of many terrifying near-misses that are increasingly common in America's hyper-concentrated, private equity-dominated rail sector, where unsafe practices dominate and whistleblowers face brutal retaliation for coming forward to regulators.

These unsafe practices – and the corporate policies that deliberately gave rise to them – are documented in terrifying, eye-watering detail in a deeply reported Propublica story by Topher Sanders, Jessica Lussenhop,Dan Schwartz, Danelle Morton and Gabriel L Sandoval:

https://www.propublica.org/article/railroad-safety-union-pacific-csx-bnsf-trains-freight

It's a tale of depraved indifference to public safety, backstopped by worker intimidation. The reporting is centered on railyard maintenance inspectors, who are charged with writing up "bad orders" to prevent unsafe railcars from shipping out. As private equity firms consolidated rail into an ever-dwindling number of companies, these workers face supervisors who are increasingly hostile to these bad orders.

It got so alarming that some staffers started carrying hidden digital recorders, so they could capture audio of their bosses illegally ordering them to greenlight railcars that were too unsafe for use. The article features direct – and alarming – quotes, like supervisor Andrew Letcher, boss of the maintenance crews at Union Pacific's Kansas City yard saying, "If I was an inspector on a train I would probably let some of that nitpicky shit go."

Letcher – and fellow managers for other Tier 1 railroads quoted in the piece – aren't innately hostile to public safety. They are quite frank about why they want inspectors to "let that nitpicky shit go." As Letcher explains, "The first thing that I’m getting questioned about right now, every day, is why we’re over 200 bad orders and what we’re doing to get them down."

In other words, corporate rail owners have ordered their supervisors to reduce the amount of maintenance outages on the rail lines, but have not given them additional preventative maintenance budgets or crew. These supervisors warn their employees that high numbers of bad orders could cost them their jobs, even lead to the shutdown of the car shops where inspectors are prone to pulling dangerous cars out of service.

It's a ruthless form of winnowing. Gresham's Law holds that "bad money drives out good" – in an economy where counterfeit money circulates, people preferentially spend their fake money to get it out of their hands, until all the money in circulation is funny money. This is the rail safety equivalent: simply fire everyone who reports unsafe conditions and all your railcars will be deemed safe, with the worst railcars shipped out first. A market for lemons – except these aren't balky used sedans, they're unsafe railcars full of toxic chemicals or explosive propane.

When cataclysmic rail disasters occur – like this year's East Palestine derailment – the rail industry reassures us that this is an isolated incident, pointing to the system's excellent overall safety record. But that record is a mirage, because the near-misses don't have to be reported. Those near-misses are coming more frequently, as the culture of profit over safety incurs a mounting maintenance debt, filling America's rails with potential "bomb cars."

Rail mergers and other forms of deregulated, anything-goes capitalism are justified by conservative economists who insist that "incentives matter," and that the profit motive provides the incentive to improve efficiency, leading to lower costs and better service. But the incentive to externalize risk, kick the can down the road, and capture regulators rarely concerns the "incentives matter" crowd.

Here's an incentive that matters. Rail managers' bonuses – as much as a fifth of their take home pay – are only paid if the trains they oversee run on time. Inspectors have recorded their managers admitting that they have quotas – a maximum number of bad orders their facility may produce, irrespective of how much unsafe rolling stock passes through the facility.

Inspectors have caught their managers removing repair order tags from cars they've flagged as unsafe. Inspectors will log orders in a database, only to have the record mysteriously deleted, or marked as serviced when no service has occurred. Some inspectors have seen the same cars in their yard with the same problems, and repeatedly flagged them without any maintenance being performed before they're shipped out again.

Former managers from Union Pacific, CSX and Norfolk Southern told Propublica that they operated in an environment where safety reports were discouraged, and that workers who filed these reports were viewed as "complainers." Workers furnished Propublica with recordings of rail managers berating them for reporting persistent unsafe conditions the Federal Railroad Administration. Other workers from BNSF said that they believed that their bosses were told when they called the company's "confidential" work-safety tipline, setting them up for retaliation by bosses who'd falsified safety reports.

Whistleblowers who seek justice at OSHA are stymied by long delays, and while switching their cases to court can win them cash settlements, these do not get recorded on the company's safety record, which allows the company to go on claiming to be a paragon of safety and prudence.

The culture of retaliation is pervasive, which explains how the 47-cars worth of propane on the "bomb train" that rolled unattended over three miles of track never made the news. There is a voluntary Close Call Reporting System (operated by NASA!) where rail companies can report these disasters. Not one of America's Class 1 rail companies participate in it.

After the East Palestine disaster, Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg pushed the rail companies to join, but a year later, none have. It's part of an overall pattern with Secretary Buttigieg, who has prodigious, far-reaching powers under USC40 Section 41712(a), which allow him to punish companies for "unfair and deceptive" practices or "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Buttigieg can't simply hand down orders under 41712(a) – to wield this power, he must follow administrative procedures, conducting market studies, seeking comment, and proposing a rule. Other members of the Biden administration with similar powers, like FTC chair Lina Khan, arrived in office with a ranked-priority list of bad corporate conduct and immediately set about teeing up rules to give relief to the American public.

By contrast, Buttigieg's agency has done precious little to establish the evidentiary record to punish the worst American companies under its remit. His most-touted achievement was to fine five airlines for saving money by cancelling their flights and stranding their passengers. But of the five airlines affected by Buttigieg's order, four were not US companies. The sole affected US carrier was Spirit airlines, with 2% of the market. The Big Four US airlines – who have a much worse record than the ones that were fined – were not affected at all:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/ftc-noncompete-airline-flight-cancellation-buttigieg/

Rather than directly regulating the US transportation sector, Buttigieg prefers exacting nonbinding promises from them (like the Tier 1 rail companies' broken promise to sign up to the Close Call Reporting System). Under his leadership, the Federal Railroad Agency has proposed weakening rail safety standards, rescinding an order to improve the braking systems on undermaintained, mile-long trains carrying potentially deadly freight:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

The US transportation system is accumulating a terrifying safety debt, behind a veil of corporate secrecy. It badly demands direct regulation and close oversight.

If you are interested in rail safety, I strongly recommend this episode of Well There's Your Problem, "a podcast about engineering disasters, with slides" – you will laugh your head off and then never sleep again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BMQTdYXaH8

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/15/safety-third/#all-the-livelong-day

[wordsbymae]

Plot: Reader is home sitting for a friend over the weekend, looking forward to a nice relaxing few days to themselves. That all goes to shit when a man breaks in, demanding that they tell him where the cash is stashed. Reader has to come to terms that they don't know their friend as much as they think, and that their ignorance is about to come back to bite them square on the ass.

TW: Degrading talk, reader is threatened at gun point, speaks on topics such as home invasion (which is fucking terrifying), swear words, allusion to coercion and dub/con. Short and probs really bad, cause I've been a bit sick lately sorry.

You gave a bright smile and a wave, as you watched your friend drive off into the distance. The sun bounced off the back window of his sedan into your eyes, causing you to wince and turn your head away. Your arm faltered as you turned, your wave becoming jaded. Your friend continued down the road, not once trying to meet your gaze in the rear-view mirror.

Making sure they were out of sight, you made you way back to the house, up the creaking wooden patio stairs to the heavy oak front door. Pushing your way inside with a grunt, you closed your eyes and released a breath. Finally, a whole weekend alone.

House sitting wasn't exactly how you imagined your weekend going, but if it meant you got away from your roommates for just three nights, you jumped at the chance. Your friend didn't really give an explanation for needing you to house sit, just that they had something important to do a state over. They didn't seem to want to talk about it so you didn't push.

The house was large, old and frankly pretty spooky. Despite the area surrounding it being a popular housing development, the land that this house stood on was isolated and densely packed with forage. You nearly missed the driveway, thinking it something more than a dirt service road. It did frighten you a little to think that you would be sleeping alone in a big house, but it also excited you. No need to wear headphones, no need to worry about any passive aggressive roommates complaining about you cooking, you had no one to answer to. It was perfection.

The sun had long since set as you finished eating dinner and doing the dishes. You pondered your opinions, watch TV, read a book or take a wonderful bath. It had been awhile since you didn't have to worry if someone was waiting on you in the bathroom. You could take your time till the bath water turned cold. You gathered your things, including a book you hoped to catch up while lounging in the water.

The bathroom continued the old, eccentric aesthetic your friend had gathered throughout the house. The tiling on the wall was a dark green, the bath itself was a clawed tub with golden edges. A rounded sunlight overlooked you as you entered into the warm, comforting water. You would have to go for a bath during the day to feel the sun on your skin as you bathed.

You read a few pages of your book before putting it down and relaxing deeper into the warmth. Your mind drifted, eyes floating shut. Muscles relaxed and the only problem with the whole scenario was that you left your phone downstairs and couldn't play music.

Until you were snapped to attention at the sound of glass shattering.

Heavy boots could be heard stepping on the broken glass, causing hairs to stand on the back of your neck. You reached for your phone, cursing at the remembrance of it being downstairs, most likely in reach of the intruder.

You stilled in absolute fright. The footsteps echoed like thunder through the house, they were heavy and slow. The owner of them, almost cautiously making their way as they explored the house.

What the fuck do you do.

You can't call anyone. You phone was down stairs.

You can't scream. There was no way the neighbours could hear and it would only tell the intruder exactly where you are.

You can't run. There was only one way down stairs and you could hear the footsteps on them right now.

The only thing you could do was to jump out of the bath and turn off the lights, quickly engaging the lock as you do. Afterwards you stumbled in the dark putting on your pjs, not wanting to be caught in the nude. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. You quickly found a place to hide, although you knew in the grand scheme of things hiding in a bathroom wasn't the best idea. You kicked yourself for not taking the chance to try and find a weapon. Now, the intruder was too close and would hear any movement you made.

The bedroom door was opened, and the intruder made short time searching it. You grimaced as you heard them rip drawers out and the sound of fabric tearing. You could only hope they found enough stuff to steal for them to finally leave. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, it nearly drowned out the sound of the intruder grunting in frustration.

Whatever he was looking for, he couldn't find it.

You listened intently as he rushed out of the room. He footsteps slowed to a stop in front of the bathroom door. You froze in fear as the door handle was wiggled. The intruder gave a scoff. Silence for a moment. Until it was slaughtered by the intruder slamming his boot against the door. You gave a yelp of fright, scrambling back into a corner. One more kick and the door flew open. You were now face to face with him.

He was tall, dressed in black. A balaclava hid his facial features, but his blue eyes drilled into you. Your eyes flittered down to his hand, where a handgun was griped tightly.

You opened your mouth, about to beg for mercy. When the man lifted the gun up towards you, he grabbed your arm and began dragging you towards the bedroom. You were thrown onto the bed with a yelp. You scrambled backwards, eyes trained onto the gun.

"Where's the money you stole" he demanded, hand steady and eyes narrowed.

"What? I didn't steal anyth-"

"Don't give me that shit, you either tell me where it is or I blow your fucking head off" his hand began to shake.

"I promise I don't know what your talking about. I don't even live here!"

"What" he scoffed

"I'm just housesitting for my friend, they-"

"Let me guess, had a last minute family emergency and had to leave in a hurry" his voice was softer now, yet still harsh.

You just nodded.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" he screamed, gun flying back into his holster, while the owner began wrecking the room.

Drawers were ripped out, a chair flung at the window and a vase thrown onto the ground.

"That no good, fucking bastard! I should have known I was too late, they've problem already used up all the cash" he muttered

"Um, excuse me..." his eyes snapped onto you.

"What do mean by stolen money?"

"Exactly how it sounds idiot. That friend of yours skipped down with my cash, leaving you to the wolves as it were."

"No, they wouldn't do that. Steal money or put me in danger!" you pleaded, still sitting close to the bedframe.

"Whether or not you believe it, it doesn't matter, they did steal money and they did leave you to cop the fallout. Sounds like an amazing friend" he scoffed.

You gritted your teeth in denial but thought it best to keep your thoughts to yourself.

"So...are you gonna leave me alone now" you whispered.

He let out a loud and harsh laugh.

"No can do sweetheart. How do I know your not lying, that you actually did steal my money. And if you are telling the truth, don't you think I deserve some sort of reparation? For all the shit your friend put me through?"

"I don't understand"

"You don't have to understand. I'll show you what I want"

I actually hate this.

[starkraivennemad]

The Beginning Calm

D.I. Greg Lestrade put up with a lot for the services of "World's Only Consulting Detective" Sherlock Holmes. His biting sarcasm, vicious diatribes, and insults to his intelligence. And that was nice compared to what came out of the genius’ mouth when it comes to his team. Not to mention Sherlock’s near childlike glee in flaunting his often barely legal antics with the law. But he and the team, okay mostly just he, tolerated it. Why? Because like it or not - he did, his team did not – at the end of the day, the man got results. Sherlock got the results which got Greg the arrests needed to get criminals off the streets, and the solid convictions that kept them off.

It was not easy dealing with Sherlock Holmes, or his even bigger pain in the arse brother Mycroft but it was worth it. Still, Greg would not lie if he did not wish it could be a bit calmer in the chaos.

Thus, you could have knocked Greg over with a feather once John Watson entered the picture. In less than twenty-four hours of the doctor knowing the genius, Greg had started to note small differences.

Sherlock, when realizing he might have messed up, looked to John for guidance. “Not good?”

John, realizing Sherlock really did not understand, was patient, “Bit not good, yeah.”

Granted, Sherlock was back to his unthinking ways not even a moment later.

Sherlock: “Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?”

John” “Please, God, let me live.”

Sherlock: “Oh, use your imagination!”

Greg noted how the doctor, with a mere look and a softly spoken rebuke, “I don’t have to…,” had Sherlock briefly taken aback for his thoughtlessness again. Greg could count on one hand how often that worked between him and Sherlock.

By the end of the night, Greg understood this doctor was only the beginning of something very different for Sherlock.

When a certain black sedan still idled at the curve, he knew what it meant. He walked up minutes later, hearing as the rear window lowered.

“So, have you warehoused him yet?” Greg asked.

“And good evening to you, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Mycroft retorted drolly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Can’t prove it, don’t want to, but I know he just shot a man and that saved your brother’s life.”

“Interesting. For that I will answer your question, yes, he was warehouse earlier this evening. ”

“And he hadn’t go running for the hills after?”

“Neither had you, Lestrade.” Mycroft reminded him. “You, Dr. Hooper, Mrs. Hudson are the only ones to do so. ”

“What does not fear you, has what it takes to deal with your brother it seems.” Greg mused. “Watson calms him…”

“Him? John Watson, CALMS, my brother? That’s just not possible!”

“Don’t worry, your capricious little brother will always be a right prat. That’s never changing.” Greg turned to head back to the crime scene. “Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.”  

“I’m not done speaking, Inspector Lestrade.”

“Too bad, I have work to do. I’m done not listening to you.” Greg walked away smugly.

He heard Mycroft’s scoff as the window went up again. “Watson calms Sherlock? The inspector is mad!”

He could not fault the older brother’s disbelief, given they were talking about Sherlock. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction John and Sherlock had walked as if he still saw the long-gone men and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, he’s a prat, but I think someday, if we’re lucky with John, he just might become less of one.”

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

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@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 7: Calm

[le-trash-prince]

I find myself so intrigued by this fancy ass garage that Great is using

This isn't necessarily plot relevant, but is this a shared garage? The text on the LED panel above the door Great is entering reads "2 Welcome to USE Available parking lot SUV 40 SEDAN 4" (note the numbers) while the next one reads "3 Maintenance SUV 0 SEDAN 0." So bay 3 on the right is empty/not working.

I guess I'm curious whether "Welcome to use" means the garage is welcome to be used (as in, this one is working and you can park in it), or the cars are welcome to be used (by residents/members, not random ppl)?

It's obvious that the two cars Great has used are owned by his family, per the window stickers. But has Great really got 44 high-end cars?? Or are they running some kind of elite carshare service and writing it off as a business expense? Somehow I would be surprised if this were the case, but I'm kind of just reeling at the thought of someone having 44 cars lmfao

There's cars in the lot without the Sriwat Cargo sticker (unless I'm just blind idk), so if this is a garage attached to Great's apartment complex, my guess is the lot is for the plebs and Great is taking up all that car space in the garage for himself.

In general I'm just delighted by the mechanics of this system, the way you don't have to back in or back out, the control panel that lets you select your car for the day like you're picking out a pair of shoes. Also this may have been pointed out already, but the car makes a clockwise turn when Great is checking one out for the day.

If this garage has been used in another series please let me know because I just wanna know how it all works

[separatist-apologist]

Cowboy Like Me

Never thought I'd meet you here

Summary: When Nesta is stranded in rural Montana, she finds herself rescued by an unlikely pair.

Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek: Meet-Cute

Also, check out this art of Cowboy Cassian from @melphss

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Nesta was in hell. 

Who got married in Montana? Montana seemed like the sort of place you exiled people to die in lonely misery. She didn’t give a fuck about all the open sky, the clean air, or the nature that quite literally ambled up to her rental car looking for a snack. Nesta wasn’t built for this sort of life and maybe it said something about her that she couldn’t imagine anyone else who was.

She’d made a mistake, though. When she’d rented her airbnb, she’d just assumed it was an actual home, like the pictures had depicted, and not some ramshackle hovel with a literal hole in the ground for shitting.

For fifty dollars a night, she supposed she deserved that. Nesta thought that maybe she also deserved her twisted ankle. Heels on a gravel road had been an obvious mistake—was she supposed to go barefoot? She hadn’t brought anything else. Nesta emitted a soft scream of hatred for this new, cheerful place before propping herself up on the hood of her car to look at her swelling ankle.

All this for a wedding. The minute Nesta managed to get back into her car, she was going to book a flight home and block this friend forever. Why was she even trying to have friends outside of Gwyn and Emerie, besides? Nesta maneuvered her phone from her black skirt pocket only to find that of fucking course she didn’t have service.

She screamed again, irate with the whole endeavor.

“All right, ma’am?” a masculine voice called. Nesta whipped her head to the side of the long, gravel drive, intending to give that busybody man the middle finger for his trouble.

She hesitated. To start, the man in question was astride a large black horse. She had no quick comeback for a man who was pulling towards her shiny red sedan like he’d stepped straight out of eighteen forty six. 

He swung one of his long, powerful legs off the creature with ease, revealing himself to be at least six foot-five. Nesta had never considered herself a small woman, standing at five-nine without heels, but as he approached, his rough stubbled face hidden beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Nesta felt positively dainty. 

He swept his hat off his head and Nesta wished he hadn’t. Holding it against the blue and green flannel of his shirt, he was like something out of a magazine ad for country living. Warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders was a lethal combination on this man. His chiseled jaw, the stubble grazing his cheeks, and his rough features made Nesta think he had no trouble picking up women.

And that irked her, even as she swallowed with desire. He was absurdly stunning, the absolute dream of anyone hoping to marry a cowboy from a long-forgotten age. Those eyes of his, framed with ridiculously long lashes, swept over her, and then her surroundings.

“Tricked, huh?” he asked in a rich, deep drawl. “You wouldn’t be the first. Won’t be the last.”

“Someone should burn this place to the ground,” she hissed, one hand still gripping her hurt ankle. 

He chuckled. “I don’t think that would stop someone from tryin’ to sell it. You hurt?” he added, his eyes falling on her ankle. 

“I twisted my foot,” she admitted. He knelt, the sight emptying out all of Nesta’s thoughts. She could only stare at his thighs, bulging in his tight jeans. His hand was large enough to wrap fully around her ankle, and ever so slowly, he pulled her foot from her scuffed black heel.

“This is your problem,” he said, holding up her shoe with a frown. 

“Well I know that now,” Nesta hissed, “you must be a psychic.”

His eyes flashed. “Can you drive?”

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn’t go around insultin’ the only person who can help…but that’s just me,” he replied. 

Nesta hesitated. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, rising to his feet again. His large, muscular body blocked the bright sun the way a tree might, and Nesta couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

“Cattle rancher,” he replied, “but I know a thing or two about tapin’ up a sprain. We’ll get you iced up and bandaged and on your way Miss…”

She sighed. “Nesta Archeron,” she half grumbled.

“Miss Archeron—”

“Nesta. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He smiled, setting her heart racing. “Miss Nesta, then. I’m Cassian, and I’m walkin’ towards you real slow because I don’t want to spook you.”

“Why would you—put me down right now!”

He shook his head. “And let you finish breakin’ what you started? No offense, darlin’, but carrying you is a lot safer than letting you hop on the horse—”

“Why can’t we drive?”

He looked down at her, his amusement plain. “And what would I do with Bryaxis?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nesta breathed, gripping Cassian’s neck until her nails dug into his skin. “I’ve never been on a horse.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Cassian replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She couldn’t help her squeal as he hoisted her up into the fine leather saddle. Nesta’s bare thighs touched the material, spreading her legs obscenely, though Cassian didn’t seen to notice or care. He merely swung himself up behind her. He put one hand on her hip, the warmth seeping through her silken skirt, before reaching for the reins.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

He nodded towards a saddle bag. “Needed a few things in town.

“And you took a horse?” she replied, trying to imagine where he’d even park it.

Cassian’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Where are you from, Miss Nesta?”

“Chicago,” she replied, well aware she was proving every city slicker stereotype true. “Have you ever been?”

She felt him shrug. “Nope. I’ve been to cities before, but not so far south.

So far south. Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re not missing much, honestly.”

“No? Is Chicago not home sweet home?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug. “It’s where I live.”

If he had thoughts about that, Cassian kept them to himself. That was just as well—Nesta didn’t want to fight some stranger when she was currently on his horse, unable to even run. He’d left her shoes on top of her car and her suitcase in the trunk. Nesta was literally at his mercy, given the small, two-lane road they were currently traveling down had no hint of civilization besides the two of them. 

She’d done such a shitty job picking an airbnb. 

“What are you doin’ up here, then?” he asked after a moment. His voice had the most pleasant gravel, deep and dark like a star-flecked sky. Nesta knew she was leaning against the broad plain of his chest and found she didn’t care. 

“My friend is getting married,” she said. “I guess her fiance grew up out here.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Married on a ranch?”

Nesta twisted in her saddle. “Don’t you dare—”

“Lots of people rent out my barn on the edge of the property. You can stay up with me, if you need a place. I’ll charge you a real fair price.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You ever mucked out a stall, Miss Nesta?”

She poked him in the ribs, turning back to face the endless expanse of cloudless blue. “Is that your thing, then? Humbling the city girl by making her clean up shit?”

“Maybe I think you’d be real pretty with a little mud on your face.”

Nesta swallowed. “I don’t do mud,” she said, looking at her immaculate nails.

“What do you do, then?” Why did he sound so suggestive? Nesta’s hands were clammy–nervous. When had a man ever had that effect on her? 

“Law,” she told him. “Corporate law.”

He made some soft, noncommittal noise that was, honestly, a lot better than a lot of the finance men she dated. Cassian acknowledged he’d heard her without feeling the need to cut her down in service of his own ego. 

“I don’t know much about that,” he finally admitted. Nesta could have kissed him for it, though she wouldn’t. 

“It’s pretty boring,” she said, earning another of his soft noises.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as the type to spend your time sufferin’.”

“Well…I do get to humble really rich men with a fair amount of regularity,” she admitted with a smile. His grip on her waist tightened. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his breath fanning against the back of her neck. She shivered, unintentionally leaning further into him. She was acting like a cat in heat over a man she’d known for fifteen minutes.

“I’ll pay,” she breathed. Behind her, Cassian went stiff.

“Pay?”

“For a room,” she clarified, wondering what he was thinking. “If you were serious about your offer, I’d pay you for it.”

“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need for that. Just a little hel—”

“I told you I don’t do dirt,” she snapped. “You can have money or nothing at all.”

“I’m not takin’ your money,” Cassian drawled. “Just keep after yourself and don’t disturb the cats.”

Her heart stuttered. “Cats?”

“Yeah. My girl just had kittens and she’s real skittish, so if you see her, be real quiet and soft.”

Nesta could have died. “What's her name?”

She wanted a cat so badly. Her landlord expressly forbade any animals at all, and Nesta was too much of a rule follower to risk a secret cat. The thought of spending three days surrounded by a mama cat and her little kittens seemed like heaven.

“Cheddar,” Cassian admitted ruefully. “She’s orange. Dad must be black, though, because half her little beans are black, too.”

A soft squeak slipped from Nesta’s throat. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll help me out with that,” he added with what sounded suspiciously like hope. 

She didn’t dare unpack that. Not as Cassian pulled off the road, steering his steady horse down another gravel path. Untouched grass stretched for miles in every direction until the sky met mountains in the distance. 

“Your friends will be down there,” Cassian told her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Accident, she swore, watching the point of his finger. “But we’ll be up here. I’ll walk you down for the wedding…keep you from wreckin’ that other pretty ankle of yours.”

“Does that work on the women around here? Your folksy charm, your aw shucks—”

Cassian laughed. “Are you askin’ if being nice gets me laid?”

“Does it?”

“My good looks get me laid, darlin’.  My folksy charm, as you so eloquently put it, is just called manners outside of the city. No need to pretend.”

“You’d be surprised,” she told him dryly. Cassian merely held her close, his eyes fixated on the two story ranch just in the distance. Nesta could have wept with relief. The saddle was rubbing against her inner thigh, chafing her delicate skin and the woodsy scent of smoke and pine coming off Cassian was threatening to throw all Nesta’s good sense out the window. 

His home sprawled against the Montana countryside. Built to look as if it was made of wood—and maybe it was, for all she knew—the house had to be worth a cool million in Nesta’s estimation. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at him, though. Didn’t dare acknowledge she knew this man wasn’t the simple, rural cattle rancher he was trying to embody. 

And Nesta certainly didn’t let him see that she was weirdly relieved. She liked an ambitious man. And unlike all the men she’d been dating back home, Cassian wasn’t slick. Nesta would have put all the money she had on Cassian being the sort who had his heart on his sleeve for all to see. She had no business thinking about that.

This wasn’t a date.

Cassian swung off his horse and gently pulled her back into his arms.

“Don’t you go runnin’ off,” he warned Bryaxis.

“Will he?”

Cassian merely shrugged as he took her up a stone laid path towards his glass and wood front door.

“If he goes anywhere, it’ll be next door to his girlfriend.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “Your horse has a girlfriend?”

“He’s a good-looking horse. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend. I catch him all the time down by the fence nuzzlin’ her with his nose.”

“Like you, then?”

Cassian chuckled. “I am very single, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she interrupted, breathless as he brought her inside. “The Miss makes me feel like someone’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Fine, Nesta. I, unlike my horse, am very single.”

“Any particular reason?” she asked, wishing she sounded snide and not interested.

Cassian set her on a long, dark leather sofa, He swept his hat off his head as he knelt in front of her again. 

“You want to know why I’m single? Maybe I work too much,” he said softly, sliding her his hand up  and then back down her knee. “Maybe I’m a shitty kisser.”

“I’ll bet it’s the second,” she replied. Cassian’s hazel eyes met her own, a smirk curving over his sensual mouth.

“And you? Are you a shitty kisser?”

“Terribly deficient.”

“I figured,” he murmured, turning his gaze back to her swollen ankle. Cassian grabbed a red pillow from the corner of his couch to prop up her foot. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll get us all set up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Cassian vanished long enough for Nesta to fire off several quiet texts and otherwise study his really nice home. The living room had a wall made of pointed windows, and though everything had that wood cabin aesthetic, it was cozy and cheerful and bright. She flipped through her work emails while she waited, dragging a knitted blanket off the back of the sofa over her lap. 

Was she insane for hanging out in a stranger's house? She would never have dared back home—her friends thought she was insane. And yet she was at the right place, and if Cassian wanted to hurt her, surely bandaging up her foot wasn’t necessary. She doubted his neighbors would have heard her scream if she stood outside and emptied her lungs of air.

Cassian returned nearly an hour later, balancing a glass of water and a plate in one massive hand, and her suitcase in the other.

“You got my things?” she asked him, surprised he’d bother. She’d assumed she’d have to hobble back out there for it.

“Of course, darlin’,” he replied, setting a nice sandwich and two ibuprofen down on the wood coffee table right in front of her. “Unless you plan on wearin’ that skirt the entire time? I don’t mind, but…”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was really nice.”

He ducked his head. “Have somethin’ to eat before you take the medicine. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee today. Pain killers won’t settle well on an empty stomach and while you’re cute, you’re not cute enough to clean up puke.”

Nesta was rendered speechless. That was for the best. Everytime he casually said something nice about her, Nesta was far too tempted to crawl into his lap and repay him for his generosity in a different sort of way. Instead, Nesta remained perfectly still while Cassian wrapped up her ankle with a beige colored bandage and pressed a bag of frozen green beans against the aching bone. 

“Keep this elevated,” he insisted, taking a spot close enough that Nesta could have scooted forward and put her head in his lap. She was far too tempted. 

“Want to watch something?” she suggested. “Or are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he teased, reaching for the remote. “How do you feel about history?”

Their eyes met, and in unison, they said, “Ancient Aliens.”

Cassian smiled with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah.”

They wasted the afternoon that way. Nesta inched closer and closer until her head was propped up against his thigh. Cassian kept his arm casual against the back of the couch, unconcerned as they giggled their way through each new show. He didn’t stop until the sun dipped low, bathing the room in shadow.

“Want to help me make dinner?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before. She looked up at him.

“No eating out?”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you asking to be eaten out?”

She smacked at his stomach, heart racing all the same. “You don’t seem like the cooking type. Isn’t that something for your little wife?”

“Are you offerin’?” he joked. “I accept. C’mon, lazy bones. At least come talk to me.”

“Does anything bother you?” Nesta asked, unconcerned when Cassian lifted her back into the air. She winced at the jolt of pain lancing through her ankle, though she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ease with which he carried her through his house. Cassian was careful, setting her atop a granite kitchen island so she could watch over his attempts at cooking.

“So tell me, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta.”

“Nes,” he grinned. “Miss hot shot attorney. What do you think about my humble home?”

She looked around, pretending to survey with an arched eyebrow. “It’s a little rustic—”

Cassian’s fingers were between her ribs before she could stop him, tickling until she thrashed and gasped for a breath of air. 

“Stop it, stop—”

“Rustic,” he chuckled, pulling out a nice creuset pot and setting it atop the range. “You’ll have to work on your insults.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” Nesta replied. Cassian smiled.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not everyday a beautiful woman is waitin’ for me on the side of the road.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.”

He shrugged. “Sure felt like you were waitin’ for me.”

“Maybe you were waiting on me.”

“Almost certainly,” Cassian agreed cheerfully. “Do you eat pasta?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Nesta agreed. Cassian nodded.

“You and me both, sweetheart.”

And God, but Nesta wanted to find out if that was true. Cassian had a box of recipes he’d inherited from his mother that he’d been more than happy to show her. While Nesta pulled the cards out one by one, Cassian made his own tomato sauce. She knew it shouldn’t have impressed her and still it did. 

He was nearly done when his cat, Cheddar, slunk into the room. Three black and orange kittens flopped just behind her, the third tumbling face first over the threshold from the hall to the tile. Nesta gasped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Where are the other four, mama?” Cassian asked his cat as she wound her way through his legs to rub against him. “What are those little demons up to?”

Nesta carefully hopped off the counter so she could scoop up one of the babies.

“Probably peeing in my boot,” Cassian grumbled, stirring his sauce with a wooden spoon. 

“Babies,” Nesta breathed, delighted when the three that had ambled in with their mother immediately bounded towards her. Her favorite, for no reason at all, was the one with the split black and orange face. She had the brightest blue eyes and when Nesta lifted her up to really look at her, the small creature meowed loudly. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Cassian teased as Cheddar trotted over to see what the fuss was. “Be careful–mama cat has claws.”

Nesta scratched behind her ears. “Maybe for you.”

“I suppose like calls to like,” he grumbled. While he plated their food, Nesta played with the kittens until there was a snag in her skirt. Cassian offered Nesta a hand and when he pulled her up to her feet, balancing on one foot, he yanked just hard enough that she fell into his chest.

Into his lips. 

“Oh,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Cassian kept her steady with one arm, the kiss polite and chaste and just enough to make her want much, much more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. “Probably shouldn’t kiss the woman rentin’ one of my rooms, but…”

“It’s alright,” Nesta assured him, letting him lead her to the blocky table just outside the kitchen. It might have been awkward had Cassian not been so charming. So laid back and nice. He’d made her spaghetti and didn’t care when his cat spent the entirety of the meal winding her lithe, orange body through his feet and purring so loud Nesta felt like she was competing for his attention. 

Cassian kept the conversation going as if nothing had happened, but Nesta couldn’t get the feel of his mouth against hers out of her mind. He’d smelled crisp and clean and when her hands had pressed against his chest, he’d been all hard, toned muscle. 

“Why don’t I clean up down here, and you can get settled in your room?” Cassian suggested when Nesta had been silent a little too long. She was undressing him in her mind, and when she looked up at him, the little smile on his face made her wonder if he wasn’t aware. 

“Sure,” she agreed, if only to get out of helping with the dishes.

“I’ll carry you up,” he added, his eyes flashing. Nesta shook her head, her pride unable to stand being taken up and down the stairs.

“I can do it myself.

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked, rising to his feet. Cassian was a big man. Nesta had never felt small in comparison, had never once looked at a prospective lover and thought herself little. Cassian, though. Cassian exuded strength. In another life, he might have been a warrior prince worshiped by the masses. 

Nesta offered him a feline smile. “Maybe.” Back home, that refusal to yield would have earned her nothing good. With Cassian, though? A slow smile spread over his rugged face.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t, I suppose. Go on then, Miss Nesta. Yell if you need me…I’ll come runnin’.”

Nesta suppressed a shiver at his sensual tone. “Is that a promise?”

He looked her up and down, his expression suddenly ravenous. If Nesta had less pride, she might have hopped over to him, pressed her hands to his chest, and let him finish what he’d started. 

“It is,” he said simply, those hazel eyes finding her face again. 

It was shree will that made her turn. As if she had something to prove. And Nesta made it all of four little hops before Cassian was coming behind her and sweeping her up off her feet. Nesta gasped, unprepared to be so close to him again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, holding her like she was something delicate.

Something fragile.

And no one thought that about her. Nesta swallowed hard, biting back the urge to snap at him. He didn’t know what she was like and maybe that was a blessing, because Nesta didn’t have to put on a show for him. She could press her head against his chest and sigh, “Thank you,” without needing to scowl, to stare him down so he knew not to ever try such a thing again.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he drawled softly, taking that first wooden step. “But I’ve got the feelin’ that back home, you’re somethin’ of a ball buster.”

Nesta tightened, her hackles raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “It’s just…I’m thinkin’ that most of those men up there don’t know how to act right when it comes to you. And because they can’t make hide or hair of you, they treat you bad. Try and break you, make you small? So you’ve gotta be real tough, don’t you baby?”

Nesta swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said crisply, careful to enunciate every single syllable which she knew only proved his point. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, taking her upstairs. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. I was a strange thing, to be so seen. To be laid bare by this man she didn’t even know. 

“Don’t get mad at me for sayin’ this, but you remind me of Bryaxis—”

“Your horse?”

“He was mistreated too,” Cassian explained. “Screamed at, whipped…you name it, he endured it. But all he needed was a soft hand. A little patience. I figure you probably aren’t too different.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

Cassian had opened a bedroom door that absolutely belonged to him. The dark masculine reds and blacks of the bed were a dead giveaway, along with the half-full glass of water on a wood bedside table and a stack of books dog-eared haphazardly. A leather jacket was hung from a chair near the open closet door, and though it was dark, Nesta could see an adjoining bathroom at the far end of the room.

“Where, I think, you want to be tonight. Tell me if I’m wrong—I’ll put you somewhere else.”

“This is your room, Cassian.”

She could see he was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tell him he’s stupid. Tell him he’s wrong. Demand he put you back in your own room and—

“Okay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.

Relief all but crumpled over his features. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like Thank the good lord, and set her atop his neatly made bedspread.

Nerves shocked through Nesta, rendering her silent for a moment. Cassian, for his part, seemed to have realized that he, too, had her in his bed and didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“I ah…why don’t I wash up the dishes and you can take a shower?”

“That sounds good, Cassian.”

It sounded better than good, and though Nesta swore she wasn’t going to say so, she called, “Unless you think I need help in the shower?”

Cassian froze. For all his bravado, it was obvious he’d never thought he’d get this far. Nesta crawled toward the end of his bed with exaggerated slowness, holding his stare. He took a slow breath, those eyes of his darkening to almost black.

“Is it safe for me alone in there?”

The knot in his throat bobbed. “I reckon it’s not, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she reminded him, rising up on her knees so she could touch the hard planes of his stomach. “Do you think you could call me that, Cassian?”

“I…” his voice trailed off when her fingers found his belt and tugged. 

“You know,” Nesta continued with far more bravado than she felt, “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for coming to my rescue today.”

“You..” he cleared his throat. “That’s not necessary. I—Nes—”

“That’s better,” she crooned, having undone the button of his jeans. A lump was forming—hard and thick and Nesta was desperate to see what the cowboy had hidden in those black pair of briefs. 

“Nes,” he tried again, his hands resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t stopping her, and given the way his fingers curled against her, she thought he was trying very, very hard to be a gentleman.

That wouldn’t do. 

“I’d be a poor guest if I didn’t thank you,” she said, slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Nesta gasped when she curled around him—or, tried to. As she pulled Cassian out, she realized she’d need to rethink her plan to thank him with her tongue. Cassian was enormous, both thick and long. Hardly a grower, given he was still stiffening in her curled hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to do something. Deciding he was erect enough, she pumped him. Her fingers just barely fit around his shaft, and even with two hands she couldn’t have fully covered him. Nesta certainly wasn’t going to be able to fit him all in her throat.

But god she wanted to try. 

He exhaled a breath when she stroked him again, earning a chuckle from Nesta. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured, softening her grip. Nesta had to hope that the cowboy liked it rough, because she wanted him to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

“Nice and slow?” she tried, making a sweet pass over that large cock of his.

Cassian shook his head, his dark tresses, whispering against his broad shoulders. What was he like out of control? 

“What about this?” she tried, pumping him harder, squeezing tighter. He shook his head again, allowing her to make a third, rougher pass. Nesta twisted her wrist against his head, her nails grazing the sensitive vein trailing his now very erect cock jutting from between two powerful legs.

“That's what I thought,” Nesta murmured, looking up through dark lashes. “Just like me.”

“Nes—” 

Nesta silenced him by taking him into her mouth. She had to use her hand to make up the difference and she didn’t care. A soft, strangled noise escaped Cassian as his fingers plunged into her hair. 

Yes.

This was what she needed. Nesta took him until she gagged, and then she took a little more, teeth grazing his sensitive skin, hand punishingly tight. Cassian moaned, tugging at her hair. Nesta sucked again, trying so hard to communicate that she could take it. He was holding back, practically shaking from the effort. 

Nesta took more of him, widening her jaw in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. That was all it took. Cassian made a rough, snarling sound, pushing her off him.

“You’re a lady,” he panted, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

Finally.

“And in my house, ladies come first,” he continued, eyes flashing as he shrugged out of that shirt. Nesta swore softly at the sight of all that gleaming, corded muscle. Nesta had never seen someone so effortlessly toned, so big.

Powerful.

“I seem to recall something about eating out,” she said breathlessly, swallowing hard when Cassian prowled toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’,” he promised, hovering over her with his unbuttoned jeans and a smile that made Nesta’s heart race. “But first, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

“Just one?” she asked as his lips ghosted over her own.

“Let’s start with one and go from there,” he said, sliding his hand around the back of her head. Nesta had only her ripped dress between them, which provided no protection against Cassian when he pressed the weight of his body against her. 

In another life, she might have kissed him nice and slow—teasing it out, exploring him thoroughly. Right then, though, Nesta thought she might explode if she didn’t have his mouth directly on her, his tongue stroking, thrusting, tasting. He was just as excited, grinding himself into her while she pulled at the strands of his hair.

He tasted like snow kissed wind, somehow. Like the crackling of a fire and a frosted window—like some memory she’d long forgotten. Nesta dug her nails down the back of his neck and against his shoulder blades until he bucked into her, wild and nearly unrestrained. Nesta could not remember the last time she’d wanted someone the way she wanted him.

“Off—get this—off,” Cassian panted between messy, hungry kisses. He was pawing at her dress, trying to figure out how to take it off. Nesta arched her back into his chest, earning matching moans from them both as she yanked down the zipper

Nesta would never know how she managed to get that dress off her body given Cassian never stopped his frantic kissing. Nor did she figure out how her bra joined her clothes on the floor. She only realized she was nearly naked when Cassian licked down the column of her neck before burying his face between her breasts.

“Fuck, Nes,” he breathed, both hands covering them entirely—no easy feat, given how large they were. Cassian massaged them, callused thumbs dragging over her aching nipples until Nesta was certain she was making a mess all over his bedding. 

His mouth latched around her and Nesta was lost, ripping at his hair as her body bowed off the bed.

“Responsive,” he teased, his tongue tracing around the sensitive bud. “I wonder…”

“Cass—” she gasped when his hand made its way between her legs. Nesta writhed when he began drawing circles on her clit, teasing touches that weren’t even close to what she needed, even as he switched between her breasts, sucking and licking. She could feel it all in her pussy, like every nerve in her body was intimately connected.

She could have come from that—for the first time in god knew how long. At least, without her own hand, without assistance from a toy. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time a man had pleased her so easily, so effortlessly.

Cassian pulled back, wild and impossibly sexy. Holding her gaze, he nipped his way down her body until he found the red pair of panties still clinging to her hips.

“Aw, for me?” he teased, kissing against the fabric. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

Nesta pushed herself against his face, but Cassian was still licking against the lace. 

“I’ll bet you could come just like this. Couldn’t you?”

If he was doing it? Probably. Nesta merely whined, arching when he hooked his fingers into her underwear and peeled them off her.

He whistled softly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Do you know that? I feel sick at the sight of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. Cassian’s tongue slid down the center of her, rendering speech impossible. Nesta reached for something to hold on to, and found his hair for purchase. Cassian groaned, the sound vibrating against her. Her thighs tightened around his face, earning another groan of pleasure. 

Cassian’s tongue was everything. She realized, after a lifetime of thinking she was just difficult to get off—too fussy, too particular, too exacting—that what she really needed was someone who knew what they were doing. Cassian had her spread apart, licking and sucking her clit with the sort of expert precision that told Nesta he liked what he was doing. 

She regretted not sucking him more. Nesta was going to come apart in record time and she knew she was going to beg him to do this again in a few hours. All weekend.

For fucking ever. 

Release was gathering on her spine, burning hotly through her blood until Nesta didn’t recognize the noises coming from her throat. Cassian, too, was rolling his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate his own arousal. Nesta nearly stopped him, if only to have that long, thick length in her body.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cassian pushed one of his fingers into her. Nesta tightened around him and Cassian swore at whatever he felt, though he didn’t stop. He fucked and sucked in time, working her like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. Nesta built up, up, up, until she was fucking his hand, rolling all over his face like a wild animal. 

Nesta broke apart with a scream she couldn’t control, bucking against him as she shattered into fractals of starlight. Cassian didn’t stop, riding her through wave after wave with clear, obvious excitement. It was only when pleasure became edged with pain that Nesta released the grip her thighs had around his face and Cassian came up for a deep breath of air.

“Fuck,” he said, his lips gleaming from her arousal. “Fuck, Nes—”

“Come here, come here,” she panted, scrabbling for his shoulders. Cassian obliged, kissing her frantically. His tongue was coated in the taste of her, pushed against her own. Nesta liked it, wanted more of him.

“Condom,” he breathed, finally shucking his jeans to trip over to his dresser. Nesta propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring his firm ass as he went. Cassian was quick about it, rolling the condom onto his cock with what she swore were shaking hands. His eyes shone, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Cassian could not believe his good luck. 

“You sure?” he asked, hesitating at the end of the bed. Nesta nearly laughed, given she was spread out and still trembling from his mouth. Any other man would have jumped on her, would already be balls deep buried in her.

He was sweet, she decided.

She wanted to keep him, though she had no idea how. She’d figure it out later. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with another heart stopping smile. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“Sure you do,” she offered in what she hoped was a sultry voice. “You’d have gone into the bathroom and used your hand.”

“That was my plan to start,” he agreed, settling between the cradle of her thighs. “But this is much better. Have I said how pretty you are?”

“Once, at least.”

“Well.” He pushed himself an inch or so into her. Nesta gasped loudly. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.”

He’d punched all the air from her lungs. Nesta didn’t think she’d ever been stretched against anything half as large as Cassian. It was the sweetest pain that, with each shallow stroke inching him in deeper, became wholly pleasure. By the time Cassian had fully seated himself within her, a bead of sweat was trailing down his temple from the effort it took to go slow.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, gripping the back of his neck for a kiss. “Cass?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m not fragile. You can fuck me, if you like.”

Cassian pulled himself out before snapping his hips so hard the headboard above them rattled. “Like that?” he grunted.

“Yes—yes, Cassian—”

He did it again, groaning loudly when she tightened involuntarily around him. This was Cassian unrestrained, his hair wild around his rugged, handsome face. His muscles bunched and shifted from the effort, held over her just enough that she could incline her had and watch his cock slide in and out of her body. 

He wasn’t finished, and Nesta already wanted to have him again. 

And again.

Cassian reached for her knees, bending them up by her shoulders to drive himself deeper. Nesta moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. The balls of her feet were pressed to his chest pushing him with each slide out, only for him to return with twice as much force. When she’d said she’d wanted it rough, well…this was exactly what she meant. 

“Nes, fuck—” he panted, eyes rolling up into his head as she came on his cock. Nesta arched hard, every muscle in her body going taut all at once. She clamped around him and Cassian came too, clearly unbidden and unprepared for the force of his own release. She wanted to drown herself in the noises he made, in the frantic thrusting of his body driving himself deeper on instinct. 

Cassian collapsed on top of her, dropping Nesta’s legs carelessly. She hissed when her bruised ankle hit the bed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “And I’m not, at the same time. Nesta, I…”

“I know,” she agreed, because she was certain they were thinking the same thing. Something else had happened between them, something they couldn’t so easily walk away from.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, perhaps guessing those words were never going to come easy to Nesta. “I can hear you worryin’. Baby, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Nesta brushed her fingertips against the rough stubble of his face. “Promise?”

Cassian grinned. “I promise.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @thisarenotarealblog:

There's a street near me that has eight car dealerships all on the same lot- i counted. it mystifies me that even one gets enough sales to keep going- but 8?? is there something you can tell me that demystifies this aspect of capitalism for me?

I had a few theories going in, but had to do some research. Here is my primary hypothesis, and then I'll run through what they mean and whether research agrees with me:

Sales make up only part of a dealership's income, so whether or not the dealership sells much is secondary to other factors.

Dealerships are put near each other for similar reasons to grouping clothing stores in a mall or restaurants on a single street.

Zoning laws impact where a car dealership can exist.

Let's start with how revenue works for a car dealership, as you mentioned 'that even one gets enough sales to keep going' is confusing. For this, I'm going to be using the Sharpsheets finance example, this NYU spreadsheet, and this Motor1 article.

This example notes that the profit margin (i.e. the percentage of revenue that comes out after paying all salaries, rent, supply, etc) for a car dealership is comparatively low, which is confirmed by the NYC sheet. The gross profit margin (that is to say, profits on the car sale before salaries, rent, taxes) is under 15% in both sources, which is significantly lower than, say, the 50% or so that one sees in apparel or cable tv.

Cars are expensive to purchase, and can't be sold for much more than you did purchase them. However, a low gross profit margin on an item that costs tens of thousands of dollars is still a hefty chunk of cash. 15% gross profit of a $20,000 car is still $3,000 profit. On top of that, the dealership will charge fees, sell warranties, and offer upgrades. They may also have paid deals to advertise or push certain brands of tire, maintenance fluids, and of course, banks that offer auto loans. So if a dealership sells one car a day, well, that's still several thousand dollars coming in, which is enough to pay the salaries of most of the employees. According to the Motor1 article, "the average gross profit per new vehicle sits at $6,244" in early 2022.

There is also a much less volatile, if also much smaller, source of revenue in attaching a repairs and checkup service to a dealership. If the location offers repairs (either under warranty or at a 'discounted' rate compared to a local, non-dealership mechanic), state inspections, and software updates, that's a recurring source of revenue from customers that aren't interested in purchasing a car more than once a decade.

This also all varies based on whether it's a brand location, used vs new, luxury vs standards, and so on.

I was mistaken as to how large a part of the revenue is the repairs and services section, but the income for a single dealership, on average, does work out math-wise. Hypothesis disproven, but we've learned something, and confirmed that income across the field does seem to be holding steady.

I'm going to handle the zoning and consolidation together, since they overlap:

Consolidation is a pretty easy one: this is a tactic called clustering. The expectation is that if you're going to, say, a Honda dealership to look at a midsize sedan, and there's a Nissan right next door, and a Ford across the street, and a Honda right around the corner, you might as well hit up the others to see if they have better deals. This tactic works for some businesses but not others. In the case of auto dealerships, the marketing advantage of clustering mixes with the restrictions of zoning laws.

Zoning laws vary by state, county, and township. Auto dealerships can generally only be opened on commercially zoned property.

I am going to use an area I have been to as an example/case study.

This pdf is a set of zoning regulations for Suffolk County, New York, published 2018, reviewing land use in the county during 2016. I'm going to paste in the map of the Town of Huntington, page 62, a region I worked in sporadically a few years ago, and know mostly for its mall and cutesy town center.

Those red sections are Commercially Zoned areas, and they largely follow some large stroads, most notably Jericho Turnpike (the horizontal line halfway down) and Walt Whitman Road (the vertical line on the left). The bulge where they intersect is Walt Whitman Mall, and the big red chunk in the bottom left is... mostly parking. That central strip, Jericho Turnpike, and its intersection with Walt Whitman... looks like this:

All those red spots are auto dealerships, one after another.

So zoning laws indicate that a dealership (and many other types of commercial properties) can only exist in that little red strip on the land use map, and dealerships take up a lot of space. Not only do they need places to put all of the cars they are selling, but they also need places to park all their customers and employees.

This is where we get into the issue of parking minimums. There is a recent video from Climate Town, with a guest spot by NotJustBikes. If you want to know more about this aspect of zoning law, I'd recommend watching this video and the one linked in the description.

Suffolk county does not have parking minimums. Those are decided on a town or village level. In this case, this means we are looking at the code set for the town of Huntington. (I was originally looking on the county level, and then cut the knot by just asking my real estate agent mom if she knew where I could find minimum parking regulations. She said to look up e360 by town, and lo and behold! There they are.)

(There is also this arcgis map, which shows that they are all within the C6 subset of commercial districting, the General Business District.)

Furniture or appliance store, machinery or new auto sales - 1 per 500 square feet of gross floor area

Used auto sales, boat sales, commercial nurseries selling at retail - 5 spaces for each use (to be specifically designated for customer parking) - Plus 1 for each 5,000 square feet of lot area

This is a bit odd, at first glance, as the requirements are actually much lower than that of other businesses, like drive-in restaurants (1 per 35 sqft) or department stores (1 per 200 sqft). I could not find confirmation on whether the 'gross floor area' of the dealership included only indoor spaces or also the parking lot space allotted to the objects for sale, but I think we can assume that any parking spaces used by merchandise do not qualify as part of the minimum. Some dealerships can have up to 20,000 gross sqft, so those would require 40 parking spaces reserved solely for customers and employees. Smaller dealerships would naturally need less. One dealership in this area is currently offering 65 cars of varying makes and models; some may be held inside the building, but most will be on the lot, and the number may go higher in other seasons. If we assume they need 30 parking spaces for customers and employees, and can have up to 70 cars in the lot itself, they are likely to have 100 parking spaces total.

That's a lot of parking.

Other businesses that require that kind of parking requirement are generally seeing much higher visitation. Consider this wider section of the map:

The other buildings with comparative parking are a grocery store (Lidl) and a post office (can get some pretty high visitation in the holiday season, but also just at random).

Compare them, then, to the "old town" section of the same town.

There are a handful of public parking areas nearby (lined in blue), whereas the bulk of the businesses are put together along this set of streets. While there is a lot of foot traffic and vehicle passage, which is appealing for almost any business, opening a car dealership in this area would require not only buying a building, but also the buildings surrounding it. You would need to bulldoze them for the necessary parking, which would be prohibitively expensive due to the cost of local real estate... and would probably get shot down in the application process by city planners and town councils and so on. Much easier to just buy land over in the strip where everyone's got giant parking lots and you can just add a few extra cramped lanes for the merchandise.

Car dealerships also tend to be very brightly lit, which hits a lot of NIMBY sore spots. It's much easier to go to sleep if you aren't right next to a glaring floodlight at a car dealership, so it's best if we just shove them all away from expensive residential, which means towards the loud stroads, which means... all along these two major roads/highways.

And if they're all limited to a narrow type of zoning already, they might as well take advantage of cluster marketing and just all set up shop near each other in hopes of stealing one of the other's customers.

As consumers, it's also better for us, because if we want to try out a few different cars from a few different brands, it's pretty easy to just go one building down to try out the Hyundai and see if it's better than a Chevy in the same price group.

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

[believingispowerfulmagic]

The Christmas Waltz

Summary:  Regina Mills wanted to share the perfect dance at her Christmas wedding and so booked lessons with Robin Locksley. When her wedding plans fall through, will she find happiness and solace in the dance studio…and her rather attractive dance teacher? And will she prove to be exactly who Robin needs in his life as well? OQ AU

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 6: Dance the Night

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

Regina took a car service to Storybrooke Dance Studio, tipping the driver before getting out of the car. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she approached the door, opening it and stepping into the warmth of the lobby. She smiled as she saw Robin behind the counter, dressed in a green shirt with white trees on it paired with nice black pants.

"Someone looks festive," she said, leaning against the counter.

"Thank you," he replied. "We all try to look our best for Mum's party."

She felt relief as she said: "Glad to hear it. I was afraid I was going to be overdressed for the party."

He shook his head. "You can never be overdressed for a holiday party in my opinion."

"Perhaps," she replied. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'll be ready in a second," he said, his eyes focused on the computer screen. "Just have to make sure the virtual assistant is activated."

Surprise and happiness filled her. "You took my suggestion?"

He nodded, moving around the counter toward her. "You made a good point. And the virtual assistant seemed the best option, especially since we've been burned before."

"You have?" she asked, guilt filling her. Had she reopened old wounds by making such a big deal about someone not being there to answer their phones? What had happened and why was she imagining someone stealing money before running away?

"Yeah. I can tell you about it in the car, which should be here shortly," he said, stopping in front of her. He tilted his head. "What's that you're holding?"

She looked down at the wrapped package in her hands before looking back up at him. "Cookies. It's rude to go someplace empty handed."

He nodded. "Right, of course."

"Your mother isn't going to mind, right?" Regina asked, panicking. Maybe she should've brought wine instead of cookies.

"Of course not," he assured her. "Sorry, I was just curious."

She nodded, though she still worried. He guided her toward the door and turned off the lights before they stepped outside. Once he lowered the gate, he motioned to the street. "There's our car - right on time," he said.

"You don't have to keep getting me a car," she said, approaching the black sedan. "I don't mind taking public transit."

"It's okay," he replied. "It's a couple trains anyway. This is more direct."

She nodded as he opened the back door, taking his hand as she slid into the car. He got in and sat beside her before nodding to the driver. "We're all ready," he said.

The driver pulled away as Robin patted Regina's hand. "You seem nervous. Relax - it's just a family Christmas party."

"I know," she replied. "But I still feel like it's a really big deal. Will there be any other students there?"

"Current ones? No," Robin said. "Any students there are old ones and usually are my parents' former students. Marian and I don't tend to invite our students."

The knot in her stomach tightened. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes," he replied. "My mother does not issue invitations with the expectation that someone will say no. She wants everyone to come."

"Alright," she said, though she still was nervous about the party. "I'm not very good with social settings where I don't really know anyone."

Robin patted her hand. "You'll know me, my parents, Roland and Marian. And my family is very welcoming. You'll be part of the family and feel at home within the first hour, trust me."

She still felt unsure but decided to trust him. "Alright."

"If you still don't feel comfortable after that hour, you can come find me and I'll get you home," he promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," she said, feeling more assured. "Thank you."

He nodded, patting her hand again. "So, what kind of cookies did you bring?"

"Oh," she replied, looking down at the package in her hands. "Whatever looked most appealing at my local store, honestly. I would've loved to bake some but I didn't really have the time or the ingredients."

"Do you like to bake?" he asked, looking intrigued.

She nodded. "I find it calms me. But I wasn't expecting to bake until after the New Year so I wasn't prepared to do it now."

"Understandable," he replied. "Maybe once the holidays are over you can find time and the ingredients to bake again."

"Maybe," she said, deciding to make him something once everything was done. It would be her way to thank him for everything he had done for her so far.

They lapsed into silence as the car inched forward in the Manhattan traffic. She then turned to him. "So, how were you burned before?"

He nodded. "Right. Well, Marian and I used to have another teacher."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "What happened to them?"

"He fell in love with a student," he replied. "Which wouldn't have been too bad…except that she was married and taking the classes with her husband."

Regina winced. "Ooh…"

"Yeah," Robin said, sighing. "We only found out though when he didn't show up for one of his other lessons. And as we're trying to call him, the husband stormed into our studio demanding to speak to him and looking ready for a fight. We finally put together what happened and that the two had run away together. We got his key to the studio and a few other things mailed to us a week later and only a PO Box where we could send his tax forms. Haven't heard from him since."

"I can understand why you're hesitant to hire someone else," she replied, thinking of the angry jilted husband. "That could've destroyed your school and reputation if the husband decided to take his anger out on you."

Robin sighed. "He wanted to, trust me. Thankfully, he had brought someone with a cooler head who was able to convince him that we were not responsible for his wife's decision to cheat and that we were victims too."

"Good," she said, relieved things turned out well in the end. "I can understand why you're hesitant to hire someone new then."

"Yeah," he replied. "I mean, it's less likely a receptionist is going to run off with someone than an instructor but you know the saying – once bitten, twice as shy."

She nodded. "I get it."

Robin hummed, looking pensive. "I guess though I'll have to get over that if I open my own school. I can't do everything."

"No, you can't," she replied before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "And it's when you open your own school, not if."

"Right," he said, smiling softly as he nodded. "You're right."

He looked out the window, taking a deep breath as he studied their surroundings. "I think we're almost at my place."

That surprised her as she looked out her window, spotting brownstones that looked similar to Robin's. "That was faster than I thought," she said.

"Me too," he replied. "But that just means more time at the party."

"I guess," she said, clutching the cookies closer as her stomach tightened into another knot.

He patted her knee again. "You'll be fine. I promise."

She nodded as the car pulled up to a house and came to a stop. Robin opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out to her. "It's a bit icy, be careful," he said.

"You be careful," she warned him. "We don't want another trip to Urgent Care."

"Don't worry," he said, helping her out of the car. "I promise to be very, very careful myself."

She nodded, watching as he closed the door. "Good."

[theradicalscrivener]

Big Changes: Homecumming

The twins hurry back to check in on Troy and find much more than they expected. Their experiment has answered some questions but now new ones arise.

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter || Previous Chapter || [Series Index] || || [Next Chapter]

               The twins were unable to enjoy their vacation in Hawaii, in part because the weather turned foul, and in part because they knew that the longer they stayed on the island, the larger and larger Troy grew and grew. Their last communication with Troy had shown that Troy had grown to an already absurd size. His dick was easily twice as big as it had been when they had left! Troy had gone from a seven-foot cock – a cock larger than he was tall by nearly two feet! To having a cock that was probably closing in on the size of a sedan.

                The twins had tried to get back sooner. As soon as they landed, the twins resolved to skip their weekend on the Big Island and head back to the continent. They put down the cash for the next available flight and waited at the airport, but the storm hit before the plane could leave. The next few days were spent sheltering in place in a bungalow until the skies cleared enough for flights to resume. The worst part was they didn’t even have cell service or wi-fi! They had no way to keep in touch with Troy!

                The twins had tried repeatedly to reach Troy during the flight, but the phone always went unanswered. As soon as they were back in town, the twins hopped in their truck and booked it to the rental place outside of town. Their hearts were beating in their chests as they got out of their truck and stared down the massive sliding door to the retrofitted jet hangar that they had rented.

                “Here goes something…” The twins said in unison as each one grabbed a hold of the handle on the double sliding door.       They tugged and strained against the metal door. As they did so the doors slowly creaked open and the light of day slowly began to creep into the room within. The smell was incredible and intoxicating. The smell of cock, balls, and pre flooded their nostrils. The whole hangar smelled like pair of gym shorts after an intense workout. 

                Once the door was open, the twins reconvened in front, and stared into the hangar in awe. At first, they weren’t even sure what they were looking at. It was like something out of a cheesy sci-fi movie. It was a solid wall of flesh! The twins tried to process what they were seeing. Troy had been seated facing the doorway, right? Had his nuts filled the entire hangar!?

                But as they continued to take in the sight of the massive, shifting wall of flesh, the twins came to realize the truth…

                This was not Troy’s sack but the opposite end of the beast. A massive, drooling slit, taller than either twin, loomed over them. Troy’s cock head was so huge that it was too big to even force through the hangar doors! This was a retrofitted jet hangar! His cock now rivaled the sheer girth of a 747!

                The twin’s thoughts raced. How were they going to get in? How were they going to get Troy out!? If Troy’s cock was this massive, they may not be able to get him out! But one problem at a time. Judging from the shuddering of Troy’s enormous cockhead, he had to be beyond fully boned. If they could get him to cream, maybe his dick would deflate enough that it no longer blocked the entire entryway, but in order to do that, they’d have to do something drastic! The only way out was through… Troy’s cock!

                Mike nodded to his brother to give him a boost.  Ike then quickly knelt down and held his hands out for Mike to climb up. Ike quickly hoisted his brother up so that Mike could crawl up and into the pre-drooling slit of Troy’s monster cock. Mike quickly spun around and reached a hand down to help his brother climb up with him.

                The twins found themselves standing at the entrance of Troy’s monstrous cave. The twins had teased Troy about one day his dick may be large enough that they could crawl in, but they had never imagined it would be this big or this soon! Troy’s cock was now so massive, that they twins could walk straight into his slit and only slightly have to shimmy to force their way deeper in. The heat and the smell were intoxicating. It was like being in a sauna that that had thick, syrupy liquid dripping from the walls.

                “We shoulda stripped first…” Mike grunted as he shoved deeper and deeper into Troy’s cock.

                “Too late now…” Ike replied as he too shoved his way into the slit.

                The twins quietly went to work rubbing their bodies against the inner lining of Troy’s colossal cock. They tried to tune out the warmth and the aroma, but despite the severity of their situations, their cocks were rock hard. This was like something out of a dream! A surrealist, absurdist, wet dream, but a dream that twins had had more than once!

                “Maybe… after he calms down…” Mike moaned as he ground the bulge of his pants against Troy’s inner wall.

                “We can talk… Troy into letting us do this for fun…” Ike moaned in agreement.

                Troy’s building-sized wang shuddered. No doubt the twin’s gyrations were having the intended effect on their lover’s super-sized schlong. Had the situation been different, the twins would have loved to edge Troy longer, but they needed to get Troy off quickly so they could check up on him. Troy had equipment in the hangar with him that allowed him to shower and get food even while seated, but given how delirious Troy sounded when last they spoke, the twins worried that he had reached a point where he was so lost in the orgasmic bliss of constant growth that he had forgotten all about his bodily needs. They just hoped he wasn’t too dehydrated to speak to them after they got him off.

                “Almost…” Mike moaned as he continued to bump and grind against the inner walls of Troy’s cock.

                “Got it…” Ike moaned in agreement.

                The twins could feel Troy’s enormous cock bucking and lurching with them in it. With each massive heave of the enormous cock, the twins felt like extras on the bridge of the Enterprise during an intense battle. The only thing preventing them from tumbling ass over teakettle with each massive shudder and lurch was that the walls were tight enough to hold them in place.

                The twins could feel the walls tighten around them. Troy’s dick was tensing up, and they knew what that meant. He was about to blow!

                “Hold on!” The twins shouted to each other.

                The twins grabbed hands just in time to brace themselves as a massive gush of cum slammed into them and sent them flying out into the warm midday sunlight. They landed with a thud on the ground. Fortunately, Troy’s thick wad gave them enough of a buffer that no bones were broken, but the wind was definitely knocked out of them. The twins could only lie there and gasp for air as they watched the head of Troy’s massive cock buck and lurch and spew cum.

                The sheer volume of spunk was staggering. It was like watching a volcano erupt, but the hot, thick goop that oozed from the tip was white instead of bright, fiery red. Each enormous spurt fired hundreds of feet into the air. The spray of jizz even managed to clear the rooves of the nearby hangars and splash down hundreds of feet away. The massive ropes of jizz ranged so far, that some of it even hit the freeway nearly a quarter mile away!

                As the spurts tapered off, the twins propped themselves up on their elbows and watched Troy’s massive beast begin to deflate. At first, they were relieved to see the beast shrink away from the doorway. Their plan had worked! With Troy getting soft, the doorway was no longer blocked!

                But as the twins continued to watch, they realized something incredibly strange. Troy was a bit of a grower, but even so… the amount of shrinkage his monstrous cock was experiencing was way more than they would expect! It shrunk down and down from the size of a 747 to the size of a train car to the size of a bus…

                The twins looked to one another in confusion. They had never seen Troy’s cock do this before. It was normal for his balls to shrink down after a climax, but his cock size stayed pretty static… usually, anyway. This was far from a typical scenario, though. They had never seen Troy’s cock size surge upwards like this before. They had proven their theory about what made Troy’s cock grow, but the results of their little experiment created more questions than it had answered. They would definitely need to consider these findings, but this was not the time for that.

               The twins were confused, but they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Their immediate concern was Troy’s safety. The scrambled to their feet and dashed back up the hill towards the hangar. They charged through the doorway and spotted Troy unconscious atop his own enormous cock. The twins looked at each other and nodded. Mike ran to one side of the room to grab some towels and Ike ran to the other side to grab some bottles of water.

                The twins clambered up the side of Troy’s enormous cock and plopped down next to their delirious friend. Mike grabbed one of the bottles of water and began to soak the towel while Ike slowly tilted another bottle to Troy’s lips.

                Troy groaned in pain. His head was pounding. He had been in a constant state of delirious bliss for what felt like ages. At some point he had lost all sense of time as the pleasure overtook his senses. He had just had the most amazing climax of his life, but no sooner had the shooting stopped than the pain had set in. The pain was so intense that it even overpowered what was sure to be the most intense afterglow anyone had ever experienced. His head throbbed. His throat ached. He tried to cry out for water, but no sound came out. Fortunately, as soon as his mouth opened, he felt the water pouring past his lips.

                For the next half hour, Mike kept a cool, damp towel on Troy’s forehead and gave Troy a sponge bath while Ike continued to give Troy sips of water. Eventually, Troy seemed to have recovered enough to speak.

                “What happened…?” Troy groaned.

                “Um…” Mike mumbled.

                “Well…” Ike stammered.

                “The experiment…” Mike said sheepishly.

“Was a success?” Ike added furtively.

               “The experiment…?” Troy murmured groggily, but then he tensed up and sat upright. “The experiment! What happened!?” he shouted.

               Mike quickly pulled the damp towel that was still sitting on Troy’s forehead down over Troy’s eyes.

               “You’re gonna want to sit down for this…” Ike said.

               Troy quickly clawed at the towel that covered his eyes and pulled it down. His jaw went slack and his eyes went wide as he stared out at the expanse of flesh that laid before him.

               Troy was now seated atop his own massive, soft cock. The week before, he had been able to straddle his enormous hog as if it was a motorcycle, but now it was far too wide for him to drape his legs over the sides. His cock was now so huge that the twins could easily sit atop it as if it was a park bench. His dick was easily twice as wide as his shoulder, and the beast stretched on in front of him.

               Troy tried to get a feel for just how long his soft cock was now, but as he stared out at the several feet of schlong splayed out in front of him, his head felt hazy and the vertigo overtook him. His vision tunneled and everything seemed to stretch impossibly in front of him like the front screen during warp drive.

               “Oh… oh fuck…” Troy whined and fell slack back into the recess between his two massive balls. Troy collapsed in a heap as the new burst of panic mixed with the prior feelings of fatigue and dehydration. Yet despite his panic and exhaustion, Troy’s colossal cock chubbed up slightly as it gave a twitch of excitement.

[First Chapter || Previous Chapter || [Series Index] || || [Next Chapter]

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

this is the most genderfluid car (derogatory)

, reads the caption this picture of a ‘94 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera Wagon S was submitted to this blog with.

And while I would indeed like @sapphicshart​ to elaborate on why this car would be so genderfluid and why in a derogatory way, and perhaps appreciate how they reused the window triangles from the regular one at the rear end of the body, I feel that must make way for my first reaction upon the claim of “most genderfluid”:

haha.

Hahahaha.

HAHAHAHAHHA.

MUAUAHAHAUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAAAA.

Dear friend, prepare to get absolutely motherfucking BODIED.

This is the 1982 Nissan Pulsar NX (Pulsar EXA in Japan and Australia), and it’s not the car we are interested in.

The Pulsar NX was a way Nissan devised to get a more youthful and exciting coupe out of the underpinnings of the Nissan Pulsar/Sunny/Cherry (or even Holden Astra, if you’re feeling weirdly Australian), …conventionally unappealing little sedan and hatchback. Ah, right, I’ve still not made the body styles master explainer - let me brief you very quick. The above is a coupe, a car with two doors and a trunk compartment that is separate from the cabin. When the doors are four, it’s what you see below, a sedan.

Whereas a hatchback is one with a rear hatch that contains the rear windshield, making the trunk compartment part of the cabin.

See what I meant with the “conventionally unappealing”, eh.

Well, in 1986 the base Pulsar/Sunny/Cherry/Sentra/so on received an update, and thus the Pulsar NX based on its guts was updated with it.

And if your brows are furrowed by unfamiliarity and not by the painful realization of how hard our poor submitter is about to get pulverized, you must understand that this car’s body style is… rather unique.

In late ‘60s America, word started spreading that the Department Of Transportation would ban convertibles due to the awful lack of shit between passenger heads and pavement when they decided to change side - thus began the popularity of “targas” like this here NX (though manufacturers called them a lot of different names because Porsche copyrighted that word).

In a targa, instead of both roof and rear windshield all folding down behind the cabin, the roof is a solid panel (or, as in this case, two) that is removed and stored away and the rear windshield stays there, on the rear structure that remains at the service of body rigidity and occupants safety. And personally that feels extremely genderfluid to me.

But of course, there are many targa coupes, so this would not be such a peculiarity. But the thing is, while this car has two doors and a trunk compartment separate from the interior and thus a coupe, it can also be argued a hatchback since it has a hatch that includes the rear windshield.

But why in tarnation would they design a rear hatch like that when, since it doesn’t create any more room above the trunk, it has no cargo space advantage? Well, remember how one key difference between targas and convertibles is that in the former the rear windshield stays in place? Well, here it does stay in place, if you want to. If you don’t, though, you just take it off.

So the Pulsar NX is a coupe that is also a hatchback and a targa and a cabriolet. Except that now, as you can see, the rear compartment is open. So arguably it’s also a pickup - or, if you will, a ute. (It’s doing that weird thing it does sometimes with post submissions where it keeps me on the old editor where I can’t change text color so please pretend that link is the trademark ‘link to a related things-about-cars-in-posts post’ blue.)

But then you’d at least want a canvas cover or something just in case it rains and your rear passengers and/or cargo don’t like rain, right? So indeed, here’s the optional canvas canopy.

Meaning it could also have both a fixed glass rear windshield and a folding plastic one, making it both a hardtop convertible and a soft top one.

But what if you wanted to transport too much cargo to fit under the hatch -or the canvas cover- but you still wanted to have it protected, as you could do in a ute with a rear canopy?

Well, folks, I truly saved the best for last.

Because this thing is not just a coupe, a hatchback, a targa, a soft top convertible, a hardtop convertible, a pickup and a ute. It’s also a shooting brake. (Again, pretend that’s blue.)

You see now why the rear hatch hinged like that.

So while this is a post about a most [specific sexual identity or orientation] car, I am not, as per tradition, offering other options nor a vote between them, because democracy does not apply to matters of fact. (And also again I’m stuck on the old editor.)

But of course, if you want to participate in the creation of any future installments, hop on over into the Discord server linked in my pinned! It’s got glowing reviews :)

[paskariu]

Toyota Yaris Ranking

Because I am definitely not having a Moment about the Yaris I have decided to create a personal ranking from best to worst yaris model. This is just my personal opinion based on my own biases.

For the sake of simplicity, I won't rate the facelifts separately and instead only rank the entire model generation.

1 Yaris P1 1999-2006

The OG. The cuddle bug that graced the world and said "I WILL get you from A to B no matter what you do to me". Change its oil and it's happy.

2 GR Yaris 2020-

The cool little brother. The GR set out to fulfil the question we all wanted to be answered, "What if Yaris but fast as fuck".

Makes the old TR and RS variants sweat, and even people who previously scuffed at the Yaris do a double take.

Kind of looks like it has this dentist push-your-lips-away device on. Angry hamster.

3 Yaris XP9 2005-2011

As a reviewer put it, the second gen is an example of "sophisticated blandness". It's a car. It drives you places. The interior features are good enough for people who just want to have a car.

It takes all of this with a friendly face. Its circular body refined with a few chosen body lines to break up the shape make for a car that got a participation trophy at a sports event.

It's just happy to be included.

Fun fact: I have that model

4 Yaris XP21 2020-

Final evolution (for the time being). Lost some of the no-thoughts-head-empty charm of the older Yari. Manta ray inspired front is somewhat unique in today's angry faced car world. Wants to look like the GR, but not that much.

5 Yaris Verso/FunCargo XP10 1999-2005

What SUVs could have been. Toyota themselves called this an MPV- Multi-Purpose-Vehicle. This micro-van can bring your kid to school and then work on a construction site on the same day.

Get yourself a Yaris that can do it all. Looks like a stretched P1. What it basically is.

6 Yaris Sedan/Vios/Belta XP90 2007-2013

Looks neat. A hatchback-limousine based on the original Yaris, and spiritual successor of the Toyota Echo.

Same charm as the XP9. Looks just happy to be of service. That's a lot of names for one car though. Like the Echo, it's not available in Europe :(

Other generations of the Yaris Belta drop the Yaris part, being sold as "just" Toyota Vios/Belta which is why they're not on this list.

7 Yaris XP13 2010-2020

The awkward middle evolution. The XP21 also has a wild design, but this is just... no. I don't like this. All I see is Steve Harvey's block of a moustache but car.

At least the back looks neat.

-100 Yaris Cross

Why the fuck make a small car an SUV. Kill it with fire. Throw it in a ditch. IDK just make it leave. This is an insult to the original Yaris. I want to buy a ticket to Japan and murder whoever is responsible for this piece of shit.

The Yaris Verso was right there. Why not modernise that and release it. Don't tell me the reason I know why they did this I don't like it though.

Honourable Mention: Daihatsu Charade 2011-2013

Hail Mary by Toyota's struggling daughter in the European market. They called this Charade because it's literally just the XP9F pretending that it's not.

[hellcab]

Hearse™

“If you’re not dead, you’re hardly working.” -Hearse Shift Manager

"What was the saying again? Arbeit macht frei?" -Roth Kruger

"There's no one at the wheel. He's smiling, but he wants to scream. You see his eyes, glazed and dead. No heart and no blood. No going home after his sift ends. It never ends." -Anonymous

Hearse™, or Hearse On-Call™, is the newest line of “uber” like services found in Hell. The young company burst onto the scene in 2017, becoming one of the most downloaded apps on the market.

Known for their sleek, modern cab services, Hearse™ can be recognized by their fleet of ultra-modern black hybrid sedans. Comfortable and luxurious, passengers can enjoy a safe journey through the quagmire of Pentagram City.

Not so, for the people having to work for Hearse™.

Like most businesses, Hearse™ has little regard for the rights of their workers. Most of them are overworked and underpaid. Constantly monitored and micro-managed to discourage any sort of individualism. Look inside any Hearse Cab™ and you will find devices to monitor the driver’s thoughts, emotions and facial expressions.

Drivers even had their pay docked for not smiling enough.

At Hearse™, dying is no excuse to be late for work. Using necromancy, Hearse™ “resuscitate” its dead employees to work forever. Without pay, of course. Of course, some Hearse™ executives are considering on "zombifying" the whole work force.

Recently, the company was acquired by Stepehen Good, a tech-rival of Vox. The twelve-foot-tall cybernetic devil announced his plans for the company, saying "it will have a bright future in my new city project."

Overall, Hearse™ represents the worse of Hell and the worse of corporate drudgery. A greedy, selfish parasite that bleeds you dry. Even in death, you cannot escape the corporate death grip.

Of course, Hearse™ still has competition. Their rivals, being Gehenna Cabs.

[racercedricsblog]

Want to Know Here How to Rent a Luxury Car in Dubai?

When it comes to luxury and riding high, Dubai is one of the ultimate places — and definitely one of the best spots to put the pedal to the metal in a luxurious car. If you are short on time or simply want the nice car, you can always rent a luxury car which can spark excitement and sophistication to your stay, be it for a special event, business trip or just have that fun ride during your stay. Car rent in Dubai does not have to be stressful. Here’s a guide on how to do it.

Select The Best Rental Company

The first and most important is, selecting right car rental agency. Always look for the companies that have made a special name in the luxury cars since they have numerous high end models. These agencies, in fact, allow you to browse through their selection on line, so that you can easily compare cars, prices and availability.

Consider the Available Models

You can't expect to simply rent a car. So, when you rent a luxury car, you should know what models are available for renting. There is a wide variety of styles of sports car, such as Ferrari and Lamborghini, or more elegant sedans, such as Rolls Royce and Bentley, in Dubai. Choose the type of the vehicle to your liking. They’re available for all preferences, whether yours be speed, or comfort, or prestige.

Know the Rental Requirements.

There are some requirements to rent a luxury car in Dubai. These include a valid driver’s license and being above the minimum ages which are usually 25 for high end car. You’ll also need to show identification like a passport and a credit card for the deposit. If you’re a tourist then some rental agencies may ask for such documents as a return flight ticket.

Check Insurance Options

Insurance is super important when you are renting a luxury car. While most car rental companies cover only basic insurance, it wouldn’t hurt to double check what comes with your package. Also, buy the extra insurance for full coverage when renting an expensive vehicle. It will give some peace of mind when damages or accidents happen.

Plan Your Rental Duration

You’ll also want to decide how long you’d like to rent the car, as the price is dependent on rental duration. Luxury car rentals can be per hour, by the day and in some cases, by the week. If you’re going to drive a lot, renting by the hour might not make sense; instead, you may be better off renting for several days and paying one rate. There are some companies that give discounts when you rent for long time, so go and ask them if there is any deal going on.

Please Review the Terms and Conditions.

Read through terms & conditions carefully before you finalize your rental. And check mileage limitations, fuel guidelines and also any further fee that might relate. There are some luxury car rentals that have a mileage cap, and if you exceed that mileage you could be stuck with extra charges. Also, be sure to understand the fuel requirements as some customers will tell you they will only take premium fuel.

Book in Advance

Despite peak tourist seasons and big events, there’s a need for luxury cars in Dubai. It’s a wise thought to book your rental in advance to be on the safe side. Also if you book early on your car rentals, you may have access to lower rates and a greater number of cars to choose from.

Pick Up and Enjoy the Ride

After everything is familiarized, you go to pick up your luxury car at the given place. What’s more, all rental agencies in Dubai offer airport pick up services, or drop the car on your hotel doorstep. Once you drive off, check to see if there are any pre existing damages and report them to the rental company.

Luxury car rental Dubai allows you to drive a luxurious car in that notorious city of opulence. Following these steps, you’re guaranteed to have a smooth and pleasant rental process without having to worry about anything else than the thrill of it all.

[door2doorservices]

Airport Shuttle vs. Private Transfers: A Complete Guide for Travelers

When it comes to getting from the airport to your destination, travelers have a range of options, from budget-friendly airport shuttles to high-end private airport transfer services. This guide will help you understand the differences, benefits, and options available so you can choose the right service for your needs.

What is an Airport Shuttle Service?

An airport shuttle is a shared transportation service, ideal for budget-conscious travelers who don’t mind a bit of extra travel time. Here’s what you can expect:

Shared Ride: Airport shuttles pick up multiple passengers from various locations, such as hotels or designated spots, en route to the airport or from the airport to various destinations. Expect multiple stops for pick-ups and drop-offs.

Pre-Booking Required: Passengers generally book in advance, providing details of their flights and destinations. Some services may have flexible schedules to accommodate passenger needs.

Affordable Option: Compared to private transfers, shuttles are budget-friendly, making them ideal for solo travelers, groups who don’t mind sharing a ride, or those looking for cheap airport transfers from Gold Coast to Brisbane.

Perfect For: Travelers seeking cheap airport transfers on the Gold Coast or door-to-door airport shuttle services with a flexible schedule.

Private Airport Transfers and Limousine Services

Private airport transfers or limousine services offer an exclusive and tailored experience, catering to passengers looking for convenience, privacy, and comfort.

Exclusive Ride: Private transfers mean you have the entire vehicle to yourself or your group, with no extra stops along the way.

Professional Drivers & Luxury Vehicles: Passengers can expect professional chauffeurs, high-quality vehicles, and personalized service. Options may range from sedans and vans to luxury limousines, giving passengers flexibility based on their needs.

Direct Door-to-Door Service: A key benefit is the door-to-door service, which can be scheduled at any time. This is especially valuable for travelers who prioritize a fast and direct route, whether it’s a transfer from Brisbane Airport to the Gold Coast or a return trip.

Perfect For: Those looking for gold coast private transfers, gold coast personal transfers, or a ride share from Brisbane Airport to the Paradise Country Farm or Southport to Gold Coast Airport.

Comparing Airport Shuttles and Private Transfers

Choosing the Right Service for You

Your choice between an airport shuttle and a private transfer largely depends on your travel needs and budget.

Budget-Friendly Option: Choose an airport shuttle if you prioritize affordability and don’t mind sharing a ride. This is ideal for solo travelers or those looking for cheap couriers and cheapest airport transfers on the Gold Coast.

Comfort & Convenience: If you value privacy, flexibility, and comfort, a private transfer or limousine service will better suit your needs. This is ideal for families, business travelers, or anyone seeking door-to-door couriers and premium transportation options like gold coast transfers or Brisbane airport transfers to the Gold Coast.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. Can I get a same-day courier from Brisbane?

Yes, there are same-day couriers in Brisbane that offer fast delivery services, ideal for urgent shipments.

2. What’s the best way to get from Brisbane Airport to the Gold Coast?

For those prioritizing cost, an airport shuttle is an affordable choice. For direct, no-stop service, consider private transfers.

3. Are rideshare services available from Brisbane to the Gold Coast?

Yes, rideshare from Brisbane Airport to the Gold Coast is available, offering a balance between cost and privacy.

Key Takeaways

When deciding on an airport shuttle or a private transfer, consider the following:

Budget: Airport shuttles are budget-friendly, while private transfers offer premium service.

Travel Time: Private transfers offer a quicker, direct route.

Convenience: Door-to-door service is a significant benefit of private transfers, providing a hassle-free experience.

Whether you’re booking a Gold Coast airport transfer service for your family holiday or need a courier company in Brisbane for urgent deliveries, understanding these options will help ensure a smooth and stress-free journey.

Popular Services to Consider

Gold Coast Couriers

Quick Couriers

same day delivery

Brisbane Courier Services

Delivery Services in Brisbane

Choosing the right transport is key to a seamless trip, so assess your priorities and budget for a pleasant experience, be it an airport shuttle, private transfer, or door-to-door airport transfer service!

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