#copy vehicle key

[thelocksmithgy]

Common mistakes you should avoid with your locks

Introduction

It's easy to get overwhelmed when you're trying to keep up with the security of your home. Keyed locks are a common feature in many homes, and they're great for keeping unwanted people out of your house. But if you don't know what you're doing, changing the lock yourself or even having another person do it for you can be very dangerous. Here are some mistakes that homeowners often make when dealing with their locks—and how to avoid them:

Don't be DIY

One of the biggest mistakes that people make when trying to fix their locks themselves is not being prepared for the worst-case scenario. There are many reasons why you might have to call a professional locksmith in Long Beach, CA, and it's important that you're willing to accept that possibility if things go wrong.

You may not be able to get your lock working again. If you don't know what you're doing, it can be difficult to fix some issues on your own, especially with older models of locks or newer ones that are more complex than others. For example, if there is corrosion inside a cylinder (the part inside where keys fit), this could prevent certain parts from moving freely enough to their work properly again without breaking something else along the way; these types of problems can only be fixed by professionals who understand how each piece works together as one unit rather than just looking at them individually like most DIYers do when they try fixing something themselves without knowing what they're doing first!

You may not be able to get your door open again after removing its lock completely yourself without damaging any other parts inside or around it because there are so many different ways things could go wrong depending on which brands or models were involved here too! If anything goes wrong while trying out new methods on old equipment like this then it's almost guaranteed someone will need assistance from experts because there's no way around needing professional guidance unless otherwise specified beforehand."

Don't leave spare keys under the doormat.

Don't leave spare keys under the doormat, or anywhere that would be easily accessible to a burglar. Many burglars will check for a hidden key and if they find one, they can easily gain entry into your home.

Don't leave keys in a bowl by the door. If you have kids who are constantly coming in and out of the house and losing their things, it's better to keep them somewhere else.

Don't leave keys in an obvious place like on a hook by the door (or any other place where anyone could notice them). Thieves know that most people don't change their locks often so they might take advantage of this fact and use your old lock to break into your house later on down the road when no one is around anymore!

Don't leave spare keys under potted plants either because if someone were ever able to get their hands on those plants then there goes all hope for keeping intruders out of our homes forevermore!

Do not give your keys to unauthorized people.

You should not give your keys to unauthorized people. After all, you need a key to get into your home and you don’t want anyone else entering it without knowing who they are. If someone has a key, they can show up at any time, so make sure whomever you give it to is trustworthy and responsible enough to not abuse their access.

Don't change your locks yourself.

While a locksmith may charge more than the cost of a new key, he or she will also be able to ensure that your lock is installed properly. For example, if you remove the old cylinder, you could damage your door or lock and then need to replace both.

Also, many homeowners have been locked out because they tried picking their own locks or used an inexpensive tool like a credit card to open doors. These methods are not guaranteed to work and often result in additional damage. A trained professional can prevent this from happening by using the right tools and equipment during installation so there’s no risk of damage occurring during installation or removal

Conclusion

Don't have a key for every lock. Don't leave spare keys under the doormat. Don't give your keys to unauthorized people. Don't change your locks yourself.

Lock Install

Lock installers are a very important part of any business, and it is important that you choose one that has the right credentials. It is also important to make sure that they have insurance so that in case something goes wrong while they are working on your locks, they will be covered by their insurance company. This way, if something does happen, then the customer will not have to pay for any damages or injuries. The Locksmith Guy has a team of expert locksmiths that can help you with your lock installation needs. We have been in business for many years and pride ourselves on offering our customers the best service possible. You can call us at any time, day or night, and we will be there as soon as possible to help you out. is a family-owned locksmith company that has been in business for over 10 years. We offer the best prices and services around, and we are always available to help you out with any lock or key issues you may have. For more information about our services or to schedule an appointment, give us a call today at 727-362-8165 or you may find us online using these keywords Locksmith near me, Building lockout, new key fob, copy vehicle key, re-key lock, lock install, lock repair, and car lockout.

The Locksmith Guy

620 Bypass Dr suite 101, Clearwater, FL 33764

727-290-0100

[notmyneighbor]

Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - masturbation, oral sex

Also available on AO3

You’re being followed.

You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.

Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.

You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.

Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.

You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.

You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.

The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.

A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.

Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.

“What are you doing in here?”

Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.

“I…I got lost on the way home.”

“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.

“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.

“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”

“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.

“Those hours don’t work for me.”

“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”

“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”

You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“I’ll drive us there, then.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.

You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.

“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.

The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”

“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.

He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”

That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.

It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.

The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.

You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.

But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.

“So, um…about the fee.”

Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”

You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”

Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.

Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.

“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.

You’re not used to being watched while you work.

You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.

“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.

“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”

Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.

The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.

“You’re tired,” he observes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.

The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.

“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”

Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.

“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”

“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.

His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.

“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.

You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.

Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he’s forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.

Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.

“So good. You’re so talented…”

You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the nub in frantic circles.

“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”

Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.

“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”

You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.

“There you go, baby. Good girl.”

The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.

Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.

It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.

“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.

“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”

Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”

You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”

“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.

“The latter.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”

You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.

“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”

You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.

“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.

“Not my problem.”

“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.

“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.

You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.

“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.

“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”

You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.

[impyssadobsessions]

DpxDC Prompt: Danny Overshadows the Batmobile

... Danny while visiting Gotham saves Batman by possessing the batmobile- unfortunately he gets stuck.

Imma copy and paste my thoughts on how I would take this from discord LOL

Bruce knows there is something wrong with the batmobile and runs test to see if he got hack. But same time conflicted because whoever hacked his vehicle just saved his life.

Also can see Fenton driving skills put to use plus with Danny's ability to phase through. Definitely makes car chases easier if Bruce can jack the runaway vans from the inside.

But Danny freaking out- using the radio or gps to try and speak after he realizes he needs help to get out of the car… and that Batman wont be As upset as he thinks.

Oo meanwhile Fentons are all over Gotham looking for their missing son… having no idea Danny overshadowed a car.

Danny figuring out how to send tuck a message to send to jazz…ends up being tracked by the bats who go investigate thinking tuck's the hacker.

Tucker trying to cover for Danny

Ooo imagine if they try to chase down Fentons because of them driving crazy(and maybe they're attacking batmobile because they can detect a ghost) and its the only car Danny cant phase through and even getting damaged by.

So he tries to plead in the radio to batman.

And then Bruce wonders if it actually was the Fentons but things still dont make sense… until the team that investigating Tuck brings in more evidence and probably Tuck.

Then it clicks.. Danny isnt ai/bot used to hack the car but Danny Fenton the missing child.

Tuck still the key to figure out how Danny got stuck. Apparently a certain part is made from materials similar to the thermos.

But catch is they need tools from Fentons to get him out so they have to bait them and have Tuck and another bat probably Tim help gather the materials.

Maybe batman confronts them, raising his arms as Fentons accuse batman being a filthy ghost that stole their child. While the others steal what they need.

When it looks like the Fentons are not going to cooperate and blast batman (batman ready to go on offensive ) Danny uses a shield to send blasts back at his parents beeping for batman to get back in.

They go on another chase where Danny drives the batmobile off a cliff and into water only to safely fly them back to the cave. Exhausted and powering down as soon as they're on land letting Bruce take the wheel again.

When Tim n Tuck finally get Danny free they all jump for joy then quickly reminded Danny is still in the batcave. And like oh right shit… they know what i am >>'

But Danny already impressed the bats so i can see them offering to help Danny out further.

Tim n tuck become friends and soon Danny gets a support of heroes. He goes back to his family whose so happy to see him safe… Danny putting in a good word about batman but it falls on deaf ears.

Pfft be funny this is the catalyst to have Fentons moving to Gotham to hunt down batman.

Bruce investing in the Fentons just so he can work on their tech and modify them to not work on Danny- and then Danny haunting the car every now and them for old time sake.

Thought this was just fun idea XD

[monstersandmaw]

Male fox spirit x female reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #4 in the list of 5! Thank you for trusting me with your prompt:  female reader saves a dying fox on her way home from work, who turns out to be a fox spirit. I hope you like it!

Contents:  Fox suffers a spinal injury when hit by a car (not the reader’s); there’s some magic; some domestic fluff; oral sex, fingering, him coming on her; and a sweet, fluffy ending.

Wordcount: 4400

Driving rain greeted you full in the face as you shoved open the main doors of the building and burrowed down into your coat, drawing the hood tight around your head in a vain attempt to keep the weather out. Nights like this — cold, damp, and at the tail end of winter before Spring took a proper hold on the land — were truly miserable.

Your fingers were half frozen by the time you had fumbled the keys out of your pocket and clambered into your car, and you fired the old thing up with a hopeful grimace that it would start. It coughed to life and you uttered a little prayer of thanks to whichever gods or spirits out there might be listening. “Now if only you could do something about my pathetic love life as well,” you said to yourself as you reversed out of the parking space and headed towards the main road. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Half an hour outside of town, your headlights flashed over something lying on the side of the road, sprawled halfway across the white line, and you swerved instinctively to avoid it. Mercifully there was nothing coming in the other direction, or you’d have caused a serious accident. Adrenaline spiked through you and you slammed on the brakes.

The flash of golden-red you’d glimpsed had told you it was a fox, but it had had its head raised and it had been looking at you with its eyes flaring yellow in the headlights, but the expression on its face had struck you to the core. It had looked… resigned. Like it knew you were going to hit it. Like it knew it was going to die.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth.

You had some old work gloves in the back of the car from when you’d taken a load of stuff from the garden to the dump a week before, so you put your hazards on and slid out of the driver’s side door and into the worsening storm. You cursed softly, squinting amid the stinging rain as it struck your face like little iron nails in the gusty night. You cleared a space in the trunk for the fox, spreading an old picnic blanket out and grabbing those thick leather gloves. No need to get rabies if the thing bit you before you could get it to an animal clinic in the morning.

You knew it was a stupid thing to do, that cars hit wildlife all the time, and you really weren’t equipped to deal with it, but you couldn’t just leave it there when it had looked so sad; black ears drooping, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Making your way along the edge of the deserted road with only your phone torch to light the way, you found the spot where the fox was still lying on the asphalt, and crooned softly to it. “Hey there,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s alright. Let me help you out… Let me take you home and see if I can take you to a vet in the morning…”

When your light found its back legs though, your heart sank. They lay limp and slightly twisted to one side. Its back had been broken by the impact with a vehicle.

“Oh baby,” you said, fighting sudden tears. “It’s going to be ok…” you lied.

Was it like with humans? Should it not be moved with a spinal injury? It would probably die anyway, or they’d recommend putting it down. You could at least take it in and keep it warm for its last few hours. When you knelt nearby, it just laid its cheek down on the cold tarmac, defeated, and let out a long, broken whimper.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok? Please don’t bite me. God, this is such a stupid thing to do…”

The fox licked its shiny black nose and just blinked slowly at you.

When it made no move to attack you or snap at you when you got nearer, you scooped it up and marvelled at how light it felt in your arms, its lovely, russet fur damp and matted.

“There,” you said, cradling it in your arms as you carried it back to your car. ‘Him’, not ‘it’, you saw when you set him down on the blanket and stroked his head and neck. He murmured softly, the sound almost a purr, and you swallowed thickly. He was so weak, you wondered if he’d even survive the journey home.

Five cars overtook you as you drove on after that, all beeping and honking their horns and flashing their lights to get you to go faster, but you absolutely would not be bullied into making this last car ride hell for the little, injured fox.

It didn’t take very long to set up a cosy den of blankets and towels in the kitchen by the radiator, and when you were satisfied that it was as comfortable as you could make it — and that any mess would be contained in an area with tile floors — you went back for him. He was still lying on his side, exactly as you’d left him, but his eyes seemed brighter and more focused, and his ears pricked up when you opened the trunk up and gazed down at him.

“Alright?” you asked and he gave a soft snuffle that was half-sneeze and half-chuckle. “You’re awfully perky for someone who’s just gone head-to-head with fast-moving traffic, buddy,” you smiled. “Maybe you will be alright. Ready to go inside?”

You had your gloves on but it didn’t feel like you really needed them, and when you settled him down on the veritable blanket fort inside, he heaved a great sigh and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric with a rumbling moan of contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked. “I don’t have much that’s fox-friendly, but I think there’s some ham in the fridge. Let me check.”

You offered him a saucer of water first, holding his delicate head up as he lapped steadily at it until he’d had his fill, and then you fed him little slivers of cooked ham which he took from your fingers like an absolute gentleman. “Aren't you dainty,” you chuckled as his small, sharp teeth pulled the next piece carefully free of your gloved hand.

He fixed you with such a flat, patronising look that you had to laugh.

The fox flicked an ear and looked away.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you said in a baby voice. “Don’t be grumpy with me, you precious thing… Here, have some more…”

He sneezed, then looked back at you and opened his mouth, head tipped back like a baby bird awaiting a worm.

“You’re not going to take it? You want me to feed you?”

He just stared at you without moving.

“Fine, your highness,” you said. “Anything for you.”

You let the piece drop into his tilted jaws, and then chucked him affectionately under the chin with your finger after he’d chewed and swallowed it.

He caught the leather of the glove’s fingertip in his teeth in a move that was so fast you didn’t even see it, but then tugged gently, insistently.

“I’m not taking this off,” you frowned. “You could have rabies for all I know.”

A tiny, rattling growl, like the world’s tiniest chainsaw, rumbled out of him and he folded his ears back indignantly before pulling on the glove again. Then he let go, his ears pricked about as far forward as he could get them, and he stared expectantly at you.

“No way, friend,” you said, and stood to put the empty ham packet in the rubbish bin.

With your back to the kitchen window, a golden light flooded the room, and for a wild moment, you thought someone was driving straight at the house, headlights blazing. When you whipped around though, you froze. The light was coming from… from the fox.

“The fuck…?”

Your heartbeat started to race, and you weren’t sure if the ringing sound was coming from your own blood pounding in your ears or from something else in the room. The brightness reached such an intense crescendo that you had to look away, shielding your eyes with the crook of your arm until the chiming noise stopped and you lowered it cautiously back down, blinking.

There, standing in the centre of the room, was a man.

You took a step back, fear crashing in on your senses.

You looked around for something you could use as a weapon, but a warm, gentle voice said, “Wait, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

Again, you went still, and after taking a steadying breath, you turned to face him again, wide eyed and shaking. “What the hell?”

“Not hell,” he smiled, and you saw that he had warm, tan skin and dark, golden eyes. His hair was a russet colour, and it fell in soft waves around his ears to the nape of his neck. He was slender, not especially tall, and he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid eyes on. Except… there was still a kind of glow around him, like an aura, and his clothes looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire or something, though the dark green, belted and embroidered tunic was finely tailored and his dark brown boots looked soft and well worn. Tiny points of light, like fireflies, twisted slowly through the air surrounding him before vanishing into a miniature, glittering starburst.

“You’re not human,” you said, despite how crazy it sounded.

“No,” the man replied with a smile. “No, I’m not. But you didn’t know that when you took in an injured fox and cared for him.”

“You’re the fox,” you blurted without thinking.

“I am. Sort of,” he smiled, and you saw that he had perfect, white teeth, with slightly more pointed canines than humans usually did. “I’m a fox spirit. There are all sorts of us, and we’re known by many names all over the world, but the most famous is probably the ‘kitsune’ thanks to modern media.”

“Oh,” you said, only half aware that your vision was darkening around the edges until it was too late. The blood roared again in your ears and your knees went out from under you. The last thing you saw was a flicker of a frown on the man’s — kitsune’s — face before he lunged towards you with hands outstretched, and the world went black.

You stirred and found yourself lying on the sofa in your sitting room, with your feet raised about a foot or so off the seat cushion, and a stranger in green standing over you, holding your legs up by the ankle. The kitsune. The fox spirit.

“Got to say, that’s the first time someone’s actually fainted because of me,” he said with a smile, lowering your legs back down and stepping back. “Are you alright?”

“I fainted?” you asked stupidly, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs slowly off the sofa and onto the ground. You swayed a little, but didn’t pass out again.

The fox spirit nodded, his lovely hair shining with strands of bronze and copper in the low light of the room, gold eyes glowing as if back-lit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said in a quiet, earnest baritone.

“Did I, though?” you asked, staring openly at him. “I mean… you’re… magic, right? I saw the way your legs were just… Your back was broken…”

“If you’d hit me with your car, or simply left me there for the next driver to do the same, then I wouldn’t have survived. We’re tough, and our magic can heal most things, but not that.”

“Oh.” And then your cheeks went hot and you looked at the carpet, “I’m sorry I baby-talked you like you were an actual animal.”

He laughed; a beautiful, bright sound like dry autumn leaves in clear sunlight. His head tipped a little way back and he looked truly delighted. “You weren’t to know,” he said, still chuckling. “And you’re not the first.”

“Oh,” you said, like a broken record.

From where he stood nearby, the fox spirit smiled at you and then inhaled deeply. “I… should go,” he said, his golden eyes turning a little sad. “Let you return to your life…”

“Wait,” you called from the sofa as he turned away. “What’s your name?”

He cast you a look over his shoulder and the smile he gave you was wry and amused. “You may call me Rowe.”

There was a nuance there that you weren’t understanding, but you told him your name in return, and he inhaled suddenly as if you’d struck him.

“You would part with your name so carelessly?” he whispered, brows pulling together into a frown of utter confusion. “You…” and then his expression cleared and his shoulders dropped. “You have never had dealings with the fae, have you?”

“The… fae?” you stuttered. “Like… fairies?”

The smile that replaced the frown was patient and amused in equal parts, and he sighed and shook his head. “Well, here’s your first lesson. Never tell your true name to a fae.”

Again, all the sound that escaped you was a dull, “Oh.”

He exhaled and approached you, and you tried not to lean back, to lean away from him. This whole night had gone from bad to utterly bizarre in the blink of an eye and you felt a little sick from the whiplash.

To make matters all the more confusing, the strange man knelt before you, sweeping his long, otherworldly tunic out of the way as he sank down onto one knee like he was going to propose or something, and he bowed his auburn head. “You saved my life without thought of debt or repayment, and in recognition of the gift, I give one of my own. I bind your True Name to my heart and hold it there in silence. I may never speak your True Name aloud unless you give me leave so to do. This I swear upon my spirit and my magic and my own True Name.”

The air in the room prickled like static and you had to fight the urge to see if your hair was standing on end. Goosebumps flickered along your arms and legs, and you drew in a shallow breath. “Anything else I should know about?” you asked faintly.

He looked up at you and shrugged. “We’re allergic to iron,” he suggested. “And we’re overly fond of cream and sweet cakes…”

“Sweet cakes,” you repeated thoughtfully, eyes drifting towards the kitchen where you’d bought a strawberry sponge cake just the day before, and an idea half-formed in your head.

Rowe smiled and your heart slipped sideways in your chest for a moment. He was so beautiful it was almost hard to believe he was really there and really standing in front of you. Well, technically he was kneeling like a knight in a fairytale. Fairytale indeed, you thought.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered.

You were afraid of sounding childish, that if you spoke too loudly, he would think you desperate and would laugh at you, but all he did was tilt his head to the side the way he had done as a fox, and he nodded once. “Alright,” he said.

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay either,” you babbled, making a rather pathetic, flapping gesture in front of you with your hands. “I just meant… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. I was going to cook some dinner and watch a movie… eat cake for dessert. I thought… I thought since you’ve had kind of a rough day, you might like to just… chill out with me for a while.”

“May I help you cook?”

“If you… If you’d like to?” you said, standing carefully and holding your hand out to him to encourage him up off the floor.

He slid his warm fingers into your palm, and got to his feet with the grace of a prince, and offered you another smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Rowe stayed with you for a week. You explained that you had to go to work or you’d get fired, and when you came back on the first day, you expected him to have gone, leaving you wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by the combination of a stressful week of work and the awful weather. But no, Rowe was there that evening, curled up as a fox on the impromptu bed you’d made by the radiator while the rain hurled itself at the window pane above him.

“Rowe, you don’t have to sleep on that!” you gasped, dropping your bag by the door and making him startle awake, ears pricked, tail fluffed up in rather adorable alarm.

In a flash of gold light, he was human again, standing beside the bed and smiling at you. “I don’t mind,” he chuckled. “It’s comfortable, and when I’m a fox, I don’t think in quite the same way as I do when I’m in this form. That’s how I got hit by the car in the first place… Please, don’t fret.”

You scowled at him, but relented, and asked him about his day. It seemed he’d spent most of it in his fox form, either out and about in the woods near your house, or sleeping by the warmth of the radiator.

“Didn’t you get bored here?” you asked.

“I could have done the housework for you,” he smirked. “But I thought that might have been an intrusion on your privacy.”

You laughed. “Thanks?”

After three days of sharing your space with him — he sleeping contentedly as a fox on the pile of blankets and you upstairs in your bedroom — you cleared your throat that evening as you sat together on the sofa like old friends, and said, “You know… uh… I… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come upstairs with me… I don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep down here like you’re a…” you trailed off, flushing hot with awkward embarrassment.

One russet-brown eyebrow climbed a little higher than the other. “… a what?”

“Like you’re some kind of pet… you know…”

Rowe laughed and, as it always did, your heart skipped a beat. His cheeks dimpled and Adam’s apple danced in his exposed throat and you ached. It felt like a long time since someone had touched you; since you’d been held, let alone kissed. He had a beautiful mouth, like he’d been made just to tempt you.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face because the laughter died in his throat and he fixed you with a look that was all concern. He murmured the name you’d given him permission to use when it was just the two of you and asked, “What’s wrong? I’m not upset about the animal comment,” he said, reaching for your forearm and trying to reassure you, but you shook your head. “Then what?”

Tears came unbidden to your eyes and you turned away. His hand felt hot through the fabric of your hoodie, but his grip was feather light. It would take nothing at all to pull yourself free, but the thought of it seemed overwhelming. “It’s nothing,” you choked, pressing your lips together and hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He didn’t. His eyes flared bright gold and he scowled at you when you risked a glance at him. “The fae can always taste a lie,” he said with the slightest growl to his voice. “And I can tell you’re hurting. We were laughing, and then… you weren’t. What changed?”

“It’s —”

A short, animal growl echoed in his throat but he bit it back, shut his mouth with a click of teeth, and glared at you.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed, standing up and pacing across the room. “It’s been a long time since it’s been this easy around someone, ok? And it’s not every day that a handsome, cute guy with a great sense of humour shows genuine interest in me. I just wished, for like half a second, that you might be interested in me, but I get it. You’re not even human. I was nice to you. You probably feel obliged to stay here. You… You should probably go soon anyway.”

His expression turned from concerned to carefully neutral, and he stood. “If that’s the way you feel,” he said, “Then I can leave. But you should know that I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and…” he swallowed and took a breath, “I think you’re beautiful, through and through.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “Don’t bother trying to spare my feelings.”

“We can taste a lie, but we cannot tell one,” he said evenly. “I could not tell you that your clothes are yellow when they are not, nor that the sky is green, nor that you are not beautiful.”

You turned slowly around to look at him, and found him glowing gold again, those points of light spiralling lazily in the air around him. The slight shape of fox ears seemed to be picked out in two, brighter lines above his copper hair and behind him you saw a golden tail swaying back and forth. His eyes blazed bright like burnished bronze, and he was staring directly at you as he spoke.

“Oh.”

“I would very much like to stay with you, and share your bed, and, if you would let me, I would bring you pleasure too.”

Your breath hitched and you licked your lips. He even spoke like he was out of a fairytale. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

Together, you tidied up the sitting room, and he followed you upstairs, still glowing softly, as if he were utterly contented and couldn’t help it.

Rowe undressed with you in your bedroom, baring a body like polished bronze; all lean lines and languid muscle, and you almost couldn’t look away. He asked if he could shower with you, and gently washed you and touched you, cupping your breasts and trailing his hands down your sides with reverent care. He passed his thumbs over your hardened nipples and kneaded your breasts until you gasped and tipped your head back, eyes closed. He teased between your legs with his fingertips, and then when you turned the shower off, he kissed your forehead. In a rush of magic, both your bodies were completely dry and your skin glowed softly with a thousand, dewy, golden sparkles. You beamed up at him, and he kissed you.

When he drew back, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and you lay down on the bed, heart racing. He knelt between your parted knees and you stared openly at his beautiful body. He looked like a statue come to life, and his cock had been more than half-hard ever since the shower, even as he turned his attention wholly on you and skimmed his palms up your thighs. You parted your legs a little wider for him and he bowed forward to kiss along your inner thigh until you shivered and lay back on the pillow behind you with a gasp.

He kissed you and tasted you, moaning softly before letting his tongue sweep up over you. He took your sensitive clit between his lips and kissed you there as well, and then he slid his arms under your thighs, lay down on his front, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of his mouth.

You lost count of how many times he made you come that night, with his tongue and with his fingers, but he never asked for more than you were ready to give.

“Come on me,” you murmured. You had no idea how well your current contraception would withstand a magical fae, but you were pretty sure you were safe with that, and when you asked, he nodded.

His fingers were slick from where he’d made you come, again, and he closed his hand around his cock with a low groan that dissolved into a gasp as he brought himself to the brink. He glowed gold again and you saw those ears made of light and the tail gleaming vividly behind him just as he spilled over your stomach with a muted grunt and another beautiful moan.

The golden light suffused the room, and you watched his expression as he came — open and vulnerable and achingly beautiful — and wished more than anything that he would stay.

When you woke in the morning, you expected to wake alone, but the warm pressure of Rowe’s body pressed against your back and the weight of his arm across your waist drew a little inhale of surprise from you. Apparently that was enough to wake him, because he kissed the back of your head and mumbled a sleepy good morning into your hair.

He was hard too, you realised, and you deliberately rocked your hips back against him.

Rowe let out a grunt and his hand shifted to your hips, drawing himself closer to you with a languid, answering roll of his hips.

“I don’t know if the fae have weekends,” you said, “But today is Saturday. I don’t have to go in to work…”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure I could let you go anywhere today after last night.” He said it with a laugh that told you he would let you do anything you liked, and you rolled over to face him. The softness in his smile brought one of your own to your lips, and he slid his hand down over your breast and then down between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers easily inside you, and you rolled onto your back as he started a rhythm that would end in the kind of pleasure you had only ever dreamed of before him.

He smiled and kissed your cheek without his fingers once faltering, and whispered in your ear, “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

You gasped and bucked, and almost missed his promise.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

__

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Library/Story Archive Blog

[cutiecusp]

Matchmaker. Part 29. Choices have consequences.

This is the second to last part of dark! Matchmaker. These two are back to normal in part 30!

Tw. Stalker vibes. Ghost shows restraint. Emotions. MDNI.

Glancing up from his scope, Ghost takes stock as to why he's here.

He kept the smell of you on him from last night; the whispers and moans you sang for him are still present in his ear, grounding his emotions, keeping you as present on him as possible. A reminder as to what's important.

The wind changes, bringing an adjustment to the scope as Ghost spots his prize. A wiry, tall man exited his vehicle at the address Soap gave him over the phone, his gait slightly to the left. A snipers nightmare, Ghost thought to himself, and he remembered the joke between him and Price one night in the pub.

Ghost waits until the man has driven off. The beat-up junker of a car announcing its arrival down the street meant Ghost knew when he would be back.

Quickly dismantling his rifle and bagging it, he comes out from his hiding spot across the street and walks up the side path of the house. After a few minutes, he finds the key his target had left under a crudely painted flower pot. Rolling his eyes at the predictability of it all, Ghost enters the house.

Opening the door to the first room on the right, he spots the monitors lining the wall. Each screen shows a different house and a different woman. Some were still unaware that they were being filmed. Ghost takes out a USB from his pocket and makes a few copies of the information before him before sending pictures of the room to Laswell.

Once the information was copied, he moved silently to the next room, all strobed in red as photos developed on a string hung from the ceiling. Scanning as many of the photographs as he could to send to Laswell, he pauses, anger flushing through him. It was a picture of you laughing.

Your head tilted back, a brilliant smile on your face, your eyes sparkling. You were in the same dress you wore when Ghost first met you, in fact. It was the same night.

He rips it from the wall, folds it, and shoves it in his hoodie pocket. He couldn't leave a trace of you in the room; his mind was spiraling. What if things were different? What if he didn't run a check on your ex? What if he never came home?

A car backfiring down the road brings him to his senses as he shakes the cloudy thoughts away. You were his, and he was yours.

He finishes up documenting his target's downfall and sweeps the area for anything else he can add to the pyre.

Opening the door to his target's bedroom, he's greeted by the smell of familiar perfume. The bed is made, and copies of your things are on the table next to it: the perfume you use, the lipstick the same shade as you keep in your bag, and a bracelet you mentioned losing a few weeks ago. Ghost takes the bracelet in his hands, using the cool metal to ground himself as he feels a wave of nausea run through his body. Making a mental note to pick up a different scent and lipstick for you on the way home, he exits the room.

Ghost takes one last sweep of the house before pushing the door open and breathing the air outside, a feeling burning in his chest he couldn't describe. Soap is waiting across the road, a car ready and waiting to take them to the briefing room, where Laswell and Price are waiting.

He nods and closes the gap between them.

"Let's nail this fucker down." Ghost grinds out, his grip on the bracelet still strong.

He takes out his phone, seeing he had an unread message from you. He types a message as they drive off. A familiar car turns into the car space they just left, and a tall, wiry man gets out of the vehicle, unaware that the secrets they have been keeping have just been discovered.

.......................

A/N thank you all a billion for being so patient while IRL kicks my ass ATM. Matchmaker is something I hold dear and I'm grateful for everyone's support, means the world.

These two will be back to a new normal when we return. 💜💜💜💜

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter @midwesternwitchery

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Fake Zelda World Record?

With the announcement of the first world record for the new Zelda, Tears of the Kingdom, there is a new controversy- Is Willy Mitchum's high score faked? Here are some key facts that suggest it may be:

The run was posted several days before the game was released, suggesting this may have been an illegal bootleg copy.

Instead of the Switch logo at the beginning, the logo says "Unregistered Hypercam 2," which is not a Nintendo system.

Several Chuchus appear to spawn in a "T-Pose." This is not a normal glitch as Chuchus do not have any limbs.

Though common playthroughs of the game can feature construction of various vehicles, the Dragster built in this game crosses all of Hyrule in 5.51 seconds, which should not be possible.

When link sets the band stage on fire early in the run, the audience stays in their seats. In normal play, they run away, suggesting that the fire festival was a scam.

Zelda's name in the cutscenes is frequently misspelled "Zelle" and she is unable to give link any rupees because she claims his bank account is not connected, despite him confirming the routing number many, many times.

Mitchum has the high score of 1,062,801 points, but the new Zelda game does not keep track of "points" at all.

This screencap of the 100% completion screen does not appear in the regular Switch version of the game:

[another-lost-mc]

Omg a fellow F1 enjoyer here!! I absolutely love all your works, but I especially loved that one even more! 🥺 can I request for the dateables and side characters too pleaseee? 🫣

a/n: I'm glad you liked it! the demon bros were more like mc's little crew and it was such a cute idea. I think the others would still support mc in their own way too.

➤ when MC is a professional F1 driver | the dateables + mephisto

1.3k words | sfw | gn!reader | fluff & slice of life shenanigans

cw: developing relationships with the other characters (except for baby brother luke who is strictly platonic and mc's #1 fan).

related versions: the demon brothers

Diavolo

— He's thrilled that you're forging your own path in the Devildom and that the demon brothers are involved.

— He's impressed by your abilities but he still worries about your safety.

— Every morning when Barbatos brings him his morning paper, he scans the front page and sports sections for articles or photos about you or your latest race.

— He saves clippings of all your newspaper/magazine appearances and keeps them in a scrapbook.

— His original intention was to give it to you as a gift when you finished your year in the exchange program. He ends up making copies for everyone who wants one and keeps the original for himself.

— He has his own impressive vehicles. your excitement is palpable when he shows you the collection in his garage. When you go out together, he offers you the keys and hopes that you'll take the wheel. (He can't explain why he likes it so much.)

Barbatos

— He's a skilled driver himself even though he rarely needs to drive. Portals are so much simpler.

— The Devildom racing league tightens up its safety and security measures when you join. Barbatos personally oversees that their lax approach to rules and safety are amended. He argues that there's a fortune to be made for having the novelty of a human world driver on their track. He promises with fake smiles that their license and investments will suddenly be forfeit should anything happen to you due to their negligence.

— Barbatos doesn’t have a lot of free time to watch your races in person, but he follows your Devilgram account and watches the highlight reels that Asmo posts when he is done working for the day.

— He receives your fan club's newsletter. He's also purchased some merchandise as well, including a coffee mug he uses when he drinks tea privately in his chambers

— The Little D’s are some of your biggest fans too. Some of them make zoom-zoom noises as they race each other in the halls of the castle. (Little D Number 2 has tried to "borrow" Barbatos' fan merch, several times, but always gets caught.)

Simeon

— He's not sure why humans are so fascinated in sports or activities that look far too dangerous. He admires your passion and hates it at the same time.

— He’s a little nervous the first time you offer to take him out for a joy ride, but later he admits it was surprisingly enjoyable. (Anything with you is enjoyable, though.)

— He and Luke go to your races and both of them have a small collection of your fan merch.

— He’s very concerned about your safety. He knows humans are less durable than demons are and he watches from the stands with the pent-up energy of a bird about to take flight. If something happens, he's going to be out of his seat and flying to your side to help you.

— He secretly hopes you’ll retire from this career sooner rather than later because he’s terrified you’re going to get hurt (or worse) one day.

Luke

— He’s fascinated by the sport and how talented you are. He thinks it's a little scary how fast the race cars drive and he reminds you before each race that winning isn't important, as long as you're safe and having fun!

— He makes cupcakes and other yummy treats for you to celebrate your big wins. The cake and icing is dyed the same bright colours as your racing car.

— He loves it when you give him a chance to visit you behind the scenes at the track: exploring the pit, letting him sit in your car with your too-big helmet teetering awkwardly on his head.

— The others get a little jealous when you show Luke special attention, like when you wave to him in the crowd before a race or hug him when he runs up to you after.

— Luke likes sitting shotgun when you drive him and the others around town or for little day trips. Mammon even gives you permission to take him for drives in his own car sometimes. (Mammon lets Luke sit in the front seat with you if the three of you go somewhere together.)

— Luke talks about you constantly with his roommates in Purgatory Hall. He also mentions you a lot to Michael and even offered to send him some of your fan merch.

— (Michael grows more curious about you with each story or photo Luke shares with him, but he won't admit it to himself or anyone else.)

Solomon

— Solomon doesn't have an interest in most human sports, but when he meets you, his interest in the racing world is piqued.

— Whenever he wants to go out somewhere, he insists that not only should you go with him, but that you should drive, too.

— (There's something about your cool confidence and quiet joy behind the wheel that makes him feel things.)

— Your fan following in the human world is almost as impressive as your growing popularity in the Devildom. He goes on a little shopping spree, buying up the various official and fan-made merch that was sold during your rise to success.

— He keeps his favourite items for himself but lets the others have their pick. You think it's embarrassing how he even managed to find some of this junk (really, who has a pristine copy of an old racing calendar?). The demons and angels divide it all amongst themselves without too much arguing—at first. (You leave when someone suggests Rock, Paper, Scissors to settle some of the arguments over the most coveted items everyone wants for themselves.)

— Solomon rolls his eyes when Mammon claims loudly that this stuff is gonna sell for a fortune in the Devildom, but he knows the Greed demon has no intention of selling any of it. (Asmo confirms later that Mammon keeps everything he claimed, including the little collectible figures of your old racing car, on a shelf in his bedroom.)

Mephistopheles

— He's completely unimpressed with you when you first arrive, and he really doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. So what if you're human? You're completely ordinary and boring and unremarkable, so why should he care?

— The revelation about your human world profession, and your dramatic debut into the Devildom racing scene, changes his mind. Professionally, anyway.

— It's hard to refuse his next assignment when the prince himself takes such an interest in you. Mephisto is the RAD Newspaper Club representative tasked with covering your career and setting up interviews and photo-ops that the rest of the school are clamoring for.

— Mephisto really underestimates your popularity. He grits his teeth when Asmo cackles on the other end of the D.D.D. and informs him that he'll be added to the list of news outlets that want an interview with you.

— Seriously???

— (He refuses to be affected when you admit bashfully that interviews are something you'll never get used to, and that maybe if he's feeling generous, can he be kinder than some of the human world reporters used to be?)

— He gets special access, along with one of the Newspaper Club photographers, to the front row staging area so they can capture the best shots of you before, during, and after each race. He hates your bright smile when he grudgingly hands you a photo afterwards. Don't get the wrong idea, either: it's for his younger brother. Mephisto couldn't care less.

— (His brother is over the moon when Mephisto gives him the signed photo later. If he's smiling, it's only because his brother is happy!)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not comforting a child after her science project didn't work?

( 💞💥 to find)

Okay this was a while ago but I still think about it sometimes and I'm genuinely unsure of if I did the right thinh.

So I (15F at the time) was a part of a science league thing facilitated by my school. Basically, you would meet after school once a week to study/work on projects, and then go to a competition in the spring against other schools. There were a bunch of different categories and activities but they were primarily separated into ones you had to study for (and would then take a test on) or build for (like a wheeled vehicle or a model plane, which would be graded). It was really fun and low-key compared to the sports programs at my school, so I liked it a lot.

A friend of mine, who we'll call S (15F) was also in the science league. We did a lot of study based competitions together, and usually placed in the competitions. During our third year, her youngest sister, M (12ish), joined the league. She was a really sweet and smart kid, and she was interested in trying a building based event. You needed two people to enter an event, so I volunteered to build a marble rollercoaster with her. M also grouped up with a girl in her grade for another building project (I think it was a plane).

Because M was doing two building events (which were predictably a lot more time consuming than the study events) and the school musical, we agreed I would create the plans for the rollercoaster and get the materials together. Now, each building events came with a printed copy of parameters and optional features that could get us bonus points. I decided on attempting for three bonus features (two jumps and a loop). Between designing on paper, adapting for the parameters, measuring out the track lengths, and gathering materials (that of which I had to switch out half way through), the whole process took me about four months to complete, and that was just the planning. We were getting pretty close to the competition date when we started to actually assemble the damn thing (at this point she had finished up her other stuff and was able to help me more consistently), and we were having a lot of issues with getting the track pieces to fit together. As I remember it, the problem came from having to fold the track over a bunch of times so it would stay in the 30cm-somethingish width parameter. The Thursday before the competition (which was in Saturday), M volunteered to take the coaster home and finish it there. I was honestly so relieved when she said this, because I knew through S that her dad was really handy, and like mini trebuchets and stuff for fun.

Flash forward to the event, when we're boarding the bus going to the school hosting the competition. She gets on with a cardboard box, and excitedly shows me a marble rollercoaster that is absolutely not what she left with at all. For reference, the original plan for the coaster was made of pvc pipe, which I spent around three weeks measuring out and cutting with a band saw in the shop room. This rollercoaster was two pieces of plywood with tinfoil tracks that you leaned against the cardboard box she was carrying it in. She hadn't included any of the extra features I had implemented to get us extra points. While I was shocked and admittedly pretty pissed I didn't say anything because she was a) a kid and b) I assumed that there was probably some issue that had arisen in testing that necessitated the changes. When we went to impound she struggled a lot with setting it up and the three pieces weren't attached with anything and were literally just leaning against each other. At this point it was also visually obvious that the width want way beyond 30 cms, and when the judges came around to measure, it turned out that it was above the allotted height too. M was looking really nervous about now, so I assured her that most of the time, the marbles don't even make it down the coaster tracks, and as long as our marble makes it to the end we should be able to place. Except, when it came time to release our marble, it moved for about three seconds before getting stuck in the tinfoil. We were allowed to try two more times, and it got stuck in the same place each time.

M was very visibly upset, and looking back I think she was on the verge of tears. It can't really remember what I said; I know I didn't say anything malicious or accusatory, though. Honestly, I think I might have just stood there in silence, because I was honestly really fucking angry that she ditched my design for no apparent reason and didn't bother to check any of the available rules or even test her design. But I don't think that anger justified leaving a little kid without support when she was upset.

tldr: When I was a teenager I didn't comfort my friends little sister after our marble rollercoaster didn't work because she had ditched the design I had made for one that broke parameters.

[wheatnoodle]

back at it again lol

previous parts

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

—

the harrington mini-mansion is not a place eddie enjoys. the one good thing about it is it gave him steve. someone he knows has been through too much in that house. so, he hates it. he hates how big it is, how he knows it’s empty rooms and cold air in the vents. lights that are rarely turned off, glowing through the curtains even in the middle of the night. he hates that there’s a pool that none of them use and nobody really knows why. he hates that the three car garage has two vehicles gathering dust inside and the third in the driveway, not allowed in the same space. like a contaminant. he hates that steve is alone in this house. he hates that steve’s options in this house were to have parents around that drained and damaged his person or to have no parents at all.

he’s thinking about how much he hates it as he drives, white knuckling the steering wheel as the houses outside start getting more spaced apart, the floors multiplying, and he’s turning down a street that the neighbors surely think he has no business being down. eddie pulls into the driveway, next to the car not allowed in the garage, and kills his engine. he doesn’t want to do this here, have this talk. not in a place where neither of them feel safe, where there’s no room or item to seek comfort in. he needed to get steve out of that house, into his van.

he gets out, raises a fist to knock on his red door. no, steve won’t hear him. but he can’t just let himself in, that’s worse. is it? he weighs his options, using his hands as imaginary scales, taking out a quarter and flipping it (it rolls back up the driveway and he has to chase after it. like a loser. he fell too, did you know that? he fell chasing a quarter. his jeans have a fresh rip in them and there’s gravel in his cut up knee. that’s so embarrassing).

‘nobody saw that,’ he thinks as he stands up, pulling loose pebbles from his hair and stuffing the quarter back in his pocket. he didn’t check it. fuck.

deep breath. he takes out his key ring, flips to the copy of the harrington house key that steve gave him. steve told him only certain people get a key, special people. robin, dustin, max, and will all the way in california have a key. and so does eddie. because he was someone special.

no going back now. he unlocks the door, carefully pushing it open. he steps in, closing it behind him.

“steve?” he calls out into the empty foyer. he walks into the living room. “i know you’re here. your car’s outside.”

there’s a crunch under his right boot. eddie’s brows pull together and he looks down, spotting shattered ceramic on the floor. looking further, the stack of tapes usually by the tv is scattered across the hardwood. there’s more ceramic stuck in the white rug. he’ll vacuum that at some point. right now, concern sends his heart racing.

“steve?! where are you?” eddie’s louder now. his voice sounds frantic, shaking through quick breaths. he’s rushing through the first floor like a bat out of hell, shoving open doors and checking in cabinets. he’s yelling his name.

stairs. up the stairs. maybe he’s upstairs. why isn’t he answering? what happened in the living room? eddie runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time somehow without stumbling once. “steve? hello?”

eddie grabs the doorknob to steve’s bedroom, forcing it open harder than he needs to. his eyes are wide as they dart over the room and he’s panting.

there’s a lump under the blankets with brown locks sticking out. he sighs in relief, his shoulders dropping. his steps are soft, careful in a way eddie munson isn’t supposed to be. he makes his way over to the bed, reaching out a hand and laying it where he assumes a shoulder in. he rubs gently, trying to urge him into turning over.

steve pulls down the blanket and looks over, freezing at the sight of eddie. his cheeks are splotchy, his hair a mess from what he can assume was some rough tugging. he’s looking at eddie with these eyes that are huge and rimmed red. there’s unshed tears filled in his tear ducts and fresh tracks down his ruddy cheeks, and isn’t that just heartbreaking?

eddie sighs softly, squeezes his shoulder. “um…can we talk? like really talk. i get it if you don’t want to and would rather like never see me again, but i think we should talk and i also think we’d be more comfortable doing it at my place rather than yours, so i think we should head to the trailer first. wayne is at work so he won’t be in the way.”

steve’s eyes flick all over his face and he’s shaking his head slightly. he looks so lost. “i- i don’t know…don’t know what…”

and yeah, that makes sense. eddie should’ve realized that seeing as that’s why he was there in the first place. his face burns in embarrassment. how can he do this…think, think, think!

—

when eddie was four, he rode in the back of a police car all the way to a trailer park in hawkins, indiana. about two and a half hours away from his home. he’s woken up in the backseat by the nice policeman gently shaking his skinny, bruised knee. eddie takes his accepted hand and walks up the steps, watches as a grumpy looking man opened the door with a cigarette in his mouth and sleep in his eyes and he talks with the cop. the man lets out a heavy sigh and rubs a dirty hand over his face. eddie’s poking at the bruises on the insides of his elbows. next thing he knows, he’s curled up in a big bed and it’s so cozy, the softest thing he’s ever slept in, so much nicer than the pile of old clothes back home. the man with the cigarette sleeps on the floor next to him. he says his name is uncle wayne. eddie’s never slept so long in his life.

it’s only a day later when the withdrawals start to set in and eddie’s shaking, screaming, sobbing, hitting. wayne can’t communicate with him. he doesn’t know what to do. eddie’s gone nonverbal. he doesn’t calm down until he wears himself out, passing out asleep for another however many hours and wayne is left awake. exhausted, but awake and he searches through his old war things in a box in his closet and pulls out his book of american sign language. he had a friend back in the army who lost his hearing in battle. wayne learned for him.

he picks out a few words, like “scared”, “safe”, “breathe”. he practices them, slowly teaches eddie in the morning when he wakes up. eddie never learns much, just a few words here and there. enough to get his point across to his uncle in a moment of panic.

—

“okay…okay,” eddie nods his head to himself before sitting on the edge of the bed, making eye contact with steve. with an unsure hand, he points to steve. you.

“umm…alright…” eddie takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god there may be that he doesn’t butcher anything. he holds out his right hand, waves it once towards himself. come.

fingers to chin, bring to his ear. home.

finally, points to himself. me.

he does it again. “i’m taking you to my house,” he says outloud as he does, hoping he’s getting his point across.

warily, steve sits up. he nods once, twice. he won’t meet eddie’s eyes as he slips into his sneakers, his shoulders shaking and sniffles heard almost every breath. eddie gives him space, watches from afar. when his sneakers are tied, eddie offers him a hand to stand off the bed. he doesn’t take it.

with a hand hovering over steve’s lower back, he walks them out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and to the front door. he hands the keys to steve. gently pushes him in the direction of the car and signals he’s gonna be another minute.

steve’s brows furrow but he takes the keys, walking to the van to start it up and sit in the passenger seat. once the front door is closed, eddie turns around to face the mess on the floor. carefully, he picks broken ceramic from the rug and hardwood, stacking it in his hand. he makes his way to the kitchen to wrap the sharp bits in paper towel before double bagging it and throwing it away. he goes back to the living room and re-stacks the tapes in alphabetical order the way he knows steve keeps them.

he makes it out to the van and climbs in. steve is already curled towards the opposite window, staring out at the darkness of his front yard. from what eddie can see, tears are still actively dripping down his flushed face. he wants to reach out, wipe them away and kiss the booboos better.

he keeps his hands to himself and gets ready to endure a more than likely painfully awkward car ride.

eddie lifts his walkie to his mouth while steve is still looking away.

“i got him. over.”

—

taggie waggies:

@depressed-gays-of-marvel @kerlypride @thosemessyvibes @sadcanadianwinter @ineffablecolors @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @thev01dd @flustratedcas @spectrum-spectre @hagbaby420

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 15 (Epilogue)

Casper's time in the void was shorter than usual.

Even without the evidence of passing time, there had always been a period where the young man settled into the distinctly unsettling feeling of nothingness. He'd said his goodbyes to Spectre the first, a geckin mech that had served him well, but would not follow him wherever he went now. It was geckin's property after all. After that, he powered down and had keyed for his casket to be ejected slowly, rather than be fired like an artillery shell to get him away from the current threat.

The moment he disconnected from the machine, he was plunged back into the dark, however, he didn't get a chance to 'settle' before light and sound returned. Casper was used to this now, it was always harsh to return to the real world, it hurt and was confusing as his mind reconnected with the various senses of his body once more.

There was a roaring din that deafened him immediately, even more so than normal. Before he could open his eyes, something was pressed over them. It covered the front half of his face and looped over his ears and behind his head, an elastic band holding the soft material firmly in place. The hands that manipulated him were careful, supporting his head and placing it back down, rather than letting Casper drop. The young man squinted, preparing for the pain of harsh bright light.

Instead, it was muted.

There were lights overhead and shadows and silhouettes that blocked it briefly as they moved around his casket, but the darkened, translucent material that covered his eyes prevented that stab of pain as his eyes, used to the dark, adjusted to the real world again. As he considered this, the dark figure slipped a set of earmuffs over his head and pulled a mic down, so it comfortably touched his lip. A deafening roar that Casper hadn't even begun processing yet died and he was left in a far more comfortable state.

Wherever Casper lay, rocked from side to side, the whole crew reacting and stumbling to the right, then left. However, the silhouette that was crouched over Casper reached out his hands and prevented the human's head from hitting the edge of the casket.

"We got you buddy, you,okay? You hurt?" Asked an unknown voice, the voice coming over clear and precise through the headset.

"Where's Qik?"

"She's fine buddy, let's get you sorted first, then we can see her, yeah?"

Casper nodded as he felt the casket being peeled away from his bottom half. The shadow over him turned his head and Casper caught sight of a pair of long ears, clipped back and out of the stranger's way as he spoke to someone else.

"Vitals are thready, looks like we need fluids, do we know how much these guys are supposed to weigh?" There was a pause. "Alright, just ensure we get transport when we land. Hey buddy!" The voice spoke to Casper once more. "Can you touch your fingertips for me? Like this?" The stranger made a familiar gesture, touching his thumbs to his fingertips in series. Casper knew this exercise.

Casper raised his hands, wincing as his skin once again felt sore in the open air, and tried to copy the speaker. The young human grit his teeth in frustration as he couldn't see to command his digits correctly, the thumb either not moving or seemingly not obeying.

"It's okay buddy, you looked like you hurt for a second there. Can you tell me where it hurts?"

"It's m-my skin. It's-it's fine, it'll calm down." Casper explained, trying to reassure the speaker. The shadow turned his head again, touching a hand to his own headset.

"Bird Two medical to hanger. Inbound thirty seconds, unknown species, pulse is thready, we got casket burn, subject is disorientated and likely severely malnourished. Get a bath ready." The rocking of whatever transport Casper was on board intensified before a firm judder ceased all further movement for the machines.

There was a flurry of activity as the crews that worked within the confined space of the vehicle seemingly all had jobs to do. A new lopel appeared above Casper and apparently was attempting to wheel him away.

"Can I see Qik?" Casper asked, feeling helpless as his legs merely twitched when he attempted to move them. He was utterly vulnerable in the hands of a whole new set of people and beings. The radio in his headset crackled and a familiar voice spoke to him. It was as if her lips were right next to his ear as she spoke, relieving him of his worries.

"I'm here Casper, I'm here. Just a few feet to your left. Lay back, these guys will do the work. Just relax, okay?" She asked gently. Casper tensed his whole body and sat upright, much to the surprise and mild panic of the lopel that was still half crouched, half sat on the shell of Casper's pilot casket. As the human raised his head and cleared the lip of the sarcophagus, he saw Qik was doing the same, a black headband was over her head too providing her welder's goggles and an oddly shaped headset with mic covering her ears.

She gave him a grin and a small wave that turned into a thumbs up. As always, she seemed untouched by the machine's drained aura.

"O-okay..." Casper replied, relieved to hear her voice and lay back down, much to the approval of the lopel that was being wheeled along with Casper. He was the spitting image of Qik, only instead of brown fur, he was a bright grey, with the exception of his hands, face and the lining of his ears, which had white fur.

"Are you friends with Qik buddy?" He asked with a still light tone, but with a hint of scepticism. Casper nodded his head, feeling tired, he laid his head back into the gel head rest of the casket and closed his eyes, releasing a tension he didn't realise that he'd been holding. The grey lopel touched the top of one his blunt claws to Casper's shoulder, waking him, the grey alien wore an impish grin.

"Took me four years before Qik started talking to me! You cooperate with the docs that we're about to meet and I'll trade you an embarrassing story about her at the bar, deal?" Casper couldn't help but match the creature's mischievous smile, which only broadened as the hot mic and headset was immediately bombarded with Qik's heated voice.

"You asshole! I'll cut your ears off!"

Casper couldn't help but join in with the laughter of the crew who were obviously also listening to the exchange. The grey lopel hopped down off the casket as he introduced a new set of lopels, who would then look after the human.

== 0 ==

It was nearly an hour and a half later before Casper saw Qik again.

The door hissed open, and Casper turned from the window from which he was staring out of, he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face seeing her.

She was dressed in a set of clothes that Casper had never seen before. Gone was her signature Nerve Suit which she had worn under her jacket at any point that she wasn't undressed completely. Now she wore grey, for lack of a better term, lounge wear. It looked comfortable and baggy, although the waistband hugged her hips pleasantly. She did, however, still have on her jacket, reassuring him more than he realised. It was a slice of 'normal' while everything was unfamiliar.

"You get your bath?" She asked casually, strutting across the comfortably warm room with the peculiar lopel gait that reminded the young man of runway models. Casper nodded; his hair was still shaved close to his skull so it had long since air dried but was still dressed in nothing but a fluffy black bathrobe. He previously had every intention of donning the perhaps oversized jogging bottoms and shirt that had been laid on 'his' bed by someone unseen while he was freshening up in the bathroom.

"Yeah, I was going to get dressed but I got distracted." He explained, gesturing at the large window that showed the pair of them outer space.

Qik merely 'hummed' in agreement as stepped up next to the shorter human. Beyond the 'glass', was a purple and red nebula, frozen in time as they swirled together creating a beautiful display that had simply awed the man.

"You didn't get bored of all this going to the Geckin worlds?" She asked, still gazing out the glass. She gestured to the amazing display before looking down at him with an easy smile. Casper couldn't help but give her a smile back, his eyes wrinkling in the corner as he turned back to the cosmic event.

"No... I just kept to myself to be honest. Didn't have a window seat. It's... I don't know I don't have words." He explained honestly, he felt breathless, almost nervous, but couldn't put his finger on why.

"Remind me to show you the observation deck tomorrow." Qik offered quietly, slipping her thumbs into her waistline, and seemingly settling into a comfortable silence. Casper joined her a moment, before a frown flashed across his face, turning to her.

"Tomorrow? Why not today?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"You really feel up to talking to a hundred different people? You're the hot topic Casper. New species, new pilot. Even a few rumours of you besting me in a fight." Qik explained, an accusatory eyebrow rose to the ceiling as she side eyed him. Their initial fight was a sore spot for Qik, this Casper knew. He'd promised almost immediately afterwards to take the event to his grave and turned to her to offer his full attention.

"I swear I didn't say anything to anyone. I know about your reputation and-" A palm clamped over his mouth, silencing him quite effectively.

"Shut it." She demanded, releasing him, and touching the tip of his nose with a single finger.

"I know you didn't say anything. But my rig had a new head. A new head is a sign of someone taking your head off. The engineering crew are rather protective of their work and notice when someone's touched a single bolt, let alone replaced the whole thing. Don't worry, Just feign ignorance. But if you're up for crowds, I don't mind taking you to see the stars."

In hindsight, that sounded like more than what Casper felt up to. He still felt drained and tired. He knew himself well enough that interacting with strangers right now was ill advised. Still... he didn't want to miss the views.

"How long is our journey? Am I likely to miss anything?"

Qik snorted and turned from the window, resting her rump against the table that sat underneath it.

"Hardly. We're on our way to the next closest station, that'll be a five- or six-day trip. We'll trade, sniff for jobs, and get some free time. Plenty of time for you to star gaze."

Casper turned back to the window and squinted as he saw something move against the black. It was small, but just big enough to make it out.

"Hey, there's a ship out there!" At Casper's alert, Qik hummed curiously and turned her head, narrowing her eyes before turning back to the human.

"Don't worry, that's one of ours. Looks like a point defence platform. We're on the carrier, holding all the mechs and a slew of hanger space with repair docks for anything and everything. Problem is, we're a sitting duck on our own." She thrust a thumb over her shoulder at the window. "That 'little guy' is a massive frigate. You can tell because of all the little nubs on its edges." Qik explained. Casper leant forwards over the table and studied the ship. It was triangular in shape, but along its smooth edges, it did indeed have bumps, breaking up its profile every few centimetres.

"Those are turrets. It can handle everything from tiny drones to fighter crafts to anything roughly the same size as the frigate. Keeps them off the carrier's back. Keep looking out that window and you'll see its brother floating around somewhere. We have between four and six frigates following the carrier, each designed to keep a different kind of enemy off us. The one's without all those nubs will have a long straight piece, either on top or below it. That's a railgun. Those frigates handle the bigger problems."

Qik paused, before reaching out a large hand to grasp his shoulder gently. Her hand dwarfed him, but she never felt heavy to him, nor did her squeeze do anything but reassure him.

"Casper, you're safer than you've ever been on board this craft." She declared truthfully.

Qik pushed off from the table and walked over to Casper's bed, stretching as she walked until her fingertips brushed the ceiling. She threw herself onto his bed and gathered a pillow beneath her head with a comfortable sigh.

"Honestly, it's adorable how you still enjoy the stars. Everyone who's in space for a living just kind of forgets they're there." She offered from her lounged position on his bed. Casper turned to her and shrugged then tried to suppress a yawn, using a thumb to rub his eye as he spoke.

"It's new to me. I lived in a city; light pollution stopped me from seeing all but the brightest. What's the station like?" He asked, curious as aside from the intake, which he really didn't remember much of, he hadn't seen other stations.

"Geckin run, but it's on a major shipping lane. Expect a whole plethora of species. Although the ssypno and the geckin portions are kept separate, for obvious reasons." Qik explained. "It's got everything a private military company could want. Work, trading, entertainment, sex, whatever scratches your itch. "

Casper blinked at the casual nature of Qik and reminded himself that despite her softness with him, she was a hardened warrior, capable of handling herself and killing people without losing sleep.

"I think I'll steer clear of that last one."  Although Casper was sincere, Qik merely snorted again as if doubting Casper's words.

"Again; adorable. You might change your tone after being stuck on this ship with no one but each other to keep you company." The lopeljack explained as she lay on Casper's bed. His eyes roamed on their own, from her wide, fluffy toes, past her almost dainty ankles, up her thick calves and knee-weakeningly thick thighs, to the curve of her hips and toned front of a fighter who kept themselves in their best possible shape.

It was all topped with a head and face that watched him carefully, her ears having fallen casually across her body. Her smile was a knowing one. Casper swallowed.

"There's worse people to spend time with." The young man offered, suddenly nervous. Qik merely grinned. The air had become charged at the first mention of sex. Whilst he wasn't fully inexperienced, Casper did not have a 'body count' he could rely on. Qik however exuded confidence and experience.

"You'd think so, but I'm the big bad Qik. Nobody wants to spend time with a cold bitch like me." She explained, grinning wickedly. Her tone was mocking, welcoming Casper into joining in and to deny her claims. He couldn't help the smirk that pulled one side of his face up.

"I wouldn't mind." Casper replied correctly with a more casual tone than he really felt, shrugging and pointedly ignoring the nervous shake in his hands.

"Well, how about you come here then, and I can welcome you to the crew properly...?" She asked, crooking a finger and reeling the young man in with zero resistance from him. As he clambered into the bed and felt the lopel's hand gently grasp the back of his head, bringing him in for a kiss, the human was struck with a thought.

If this were the spoils of battle, then maybe Casper could get very used to being a mercenary?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[thelocksmithgy]

Why are deadbolts important?

Introduction

If you’re looking to protect your property and the people inside, then the best first line of defense is a deadbolt.

They’re reliable.

Deadbolts are reliable. The deadbolt is the most common type of door lock, and it’s designed to provide you with strength and durability. Many of them are made from solid steel or other sturdy materials that can withstand years of use in harsh conditions and weather conditions.

In comparison to other types of locks—such as barrel locks and pin tumbler locks—deadbolts are sturdier and more secure because they have a mechanism built into them that makes it harder for someone to pick or break through them.

They give you peace of mind.

Deadbolts are important because they add a level of security to your home. They serve as an additional layer of protection against intruders and can help prevent break-ins, so you know that the doors in your house are safe. The peace of mind that comes with having a deadbolt installed adds value to your home, too!

When choosing between types of deadbolts for your home, it's important to consider what type of lock would be best suited for its location and use case. For example:

If you want maximum protection from intruders but are looking for something that doesn't require much maintenance or care (i.e., no drilling), then look for a surface-mounting option like those offered by Baldwin Hardware Corporation® or Kwikset®.[4] These types include push-button locks which can be placed on any flat surface like walls or doors; they're easy to install quickly without needing tools.[5]

If you want more traditional appearance options but still need some extra safety features such as anti-shim technology,[6] then consider Schlage Electronic Keyless Entry Buttons as well as electronic deadbolts with keypads[7].

They offer extra resistance.

There are a variety of tools out there that can be used to pick locks, including lock picks and a bump hammer. If you’re not familiar with these tools and the way they work, here’s a quick refresher:

Lock picks are specially made tools that help open locks without using the key. They are often used by law enforcement or criminals for illegal purposes such as breaking into homes.

A bump hammer is a tool that uses spring-loaded pins inside it to create a force against the side of your door frame when you hit it on the opposite side with enough force. This causes an “explosion” in your door frame which allows someone to enter without needing any kind of physical key or electronic device like those used by law enforcement officers when conducting investigations at people's homes (usually called "no-knock warrants").

Deadbolts offer extra resistance against both types if they're properly installed into their corresponding hole locations within each type's respective strike plate location within your home's exterior walls because each deadbolt retains its locking components within itself until unlocked by its corresponding keyed cylinder/deadbolt mechanism which is inserted into place through either top/bottom holes depending upon whether single cylinder or double cylinder deadbolts have been installed (single cylinder being standard residential model while double cylinders being industrial grade models).

They’re affordable.

While deadbolts are a relatively inexpensive security feature for your home or business, there are many other benefits to using them. Deadbolts are easy to install and easy to use, meaning that you can have one installed in no time at all. You can also have the key re-keyed at any time if you change locks or move into a different property.

It’s important to note that deadbolts can be used on homes, businesses, and cars as well as on doors themselves. This makes them incredibly versatile when it comes to protecting your valuables both inside and outside of the house!

Deadbolts are reliable because they work with standard keys; this means that even if someone breaks into your home and steals one of these keys from you (or copies it), the thief won't be able to use it for anything else because all other locks would require two separate keys—one for opening/locking and another for locking/unlocking--which is why some people refer this kind of lock as "double door." Because these types aren't vulnerable against bumping attacks like ordinary ones do tend towards being vulnerable to brute force attacks instead which means they're virtually impossible

Conclusion

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[lokiswifeduh]

Bad Date

pairings: Bucky x fem!reader

warnings: disrespect for servers, forceful touching, unwanted kissing, John walker, fluff at the end.

summary: You go out on a date set up by Tony, which goes horribly. You come home and tell Bucky all about it in which he comforts you. 

WC: 1,182

A/N: I had a really crappy date like this a couple of months ago so this is the retelling of that and how I wish it had ended, thank you for reading!

_________________________________

“Hey where are you going?” You looked over to see Bucky peeking his head above the couch, one of the sitcoms Wanda loved playing loudly in the back. 

You walked over, leaning on the back of the sofa. “Going on this date Tony set me up on.” Bucky’s brows went up as he nodded slowly. “Who is he?” Shrugging, you tucked your phone into your back pocket and fished out your keys. “His names John, last name starts with a ‘W’ I think.”  

Bucky pursed his lips, “And where are you going?”

You let out a laugh, “A restaurant. You ask too many questions Buck.”  He tilts his head in agreence, “Call me if you need anything, doll.” You smile down at him, “I will.”  Bucky’s lips curve up in a goofy grin, “And be home by eleven or I’ll hunt him down with a shotgun.” Laughing genuinely, you gesture to the TV, “You’ve been watching too many 50s’ sitcoms...” Walking away you open the door and shout out, “Don’t wait up!”

But after 20 minutes of being on the date, you were really hoping Bucky had waited up. The guy was the exact copy of your ex boyfriend. He had the same voice tone and even the same haircut. 

You ordered a water and hot wings, same as he did but when the waiter came he looked at her with a rude expression; as if her doing her job was interrupting. He was only talking about himself anyway. 

Sighing you took a other drink of your water, watching as he only paid attention to the TV behind your head. “So where are you from?” “Hmm?” He hummed, watching the apparently more interesting game behind you. 

You rolled your eyes, taking the last bite of your wing. “Are you guys ready for the check?” Looking at him across from you he was staring at, you a blank expression on his face. You looked back up at the server, smiling. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Bringing back the check, he instantly grabbed it making your heart soar for at least one thing going right. He threw thirty dollars down, the waitress collecting it hastily. “I had a fun time.” He smiled over at you with a crooked smirk. You chuckled lightly, not knowing what to say. 

You weren't having a good time. Yet you forced the words from your mouth, “Me too.”

“Here’s the change.” The waitress placed the money down on the table, only for John to put all the four dollars of change back into his wallet, not even bothering to tip. She grabbed the empty drinks, not waiting for something she knew he wasn’t leaving. “Oh uhm-” “You ready?” You were about to say something when he abruptly stood, gesturing to the door. You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll catch up with you outside, I just need to use the restroom.” His eyes widened a little bit before he walked away, not even bothering to say anything. You groaned, the server catching your eye from across the room. “Hey!” 

You were able to catch her before she disappeared into the kitchen, making her turn around with a confused look on her face. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was gonna do that, here you go.” You pulled out your wallet, holding out a fifty dollar bill. Her eyes widened as she shook her head, “Are you sure? I don’t want  to be an inconvenience.”

It was your turn to shake your head, “I promise, it’s okay. I’m sorry for his behavior.” She hesitantly took the bill from your hand, holding it tight in her palm. “First date?” She questioned, making you nod. “Yeah, and last.”

“Good,” She scoffed, “I feel sorry for the poor woman who ends up with him.” Giving you a smile she thanked you once more, walking into the kitchen as you made your way out to John. He was standing by his truck, the run down vehicle definitely needed work, and a new paint job. 

Without a word he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you into him forcefully. You grunted, surprised by his actions. Looking down at you, his hands traveled down until he gripped your ass tightly, bruising tight.  

“Ow,” You muttered under your breath before softly pushing yourself out of his arms. “Where you going babe?” He chuckled, dipping his head down and kissing you. Your eyes shot open as he moaned and grunted, trying to stick his tongue down your throat.

You beeped your car alarm, the custom Lamborghini; a gift from Tony, illuminated in the dark parking lot. Pushing off of him, you subtly wiped his saliva from your lips and part of your chin, “I have to get home,” You gestured, finally making it to your car as he waited for a further explanation in the spot beside you. “Early meeting.” You opened your door, about to get in before he shouted. 

“I’ll call you.” You ignored him, getting in your car and shutting the door before he could say anymore. Without even turning on the music you reversed and sped from the parking lot, desperate to get back to the tower. 

____________________________________________

“Hey doll,” Bucky turned his head, smiling when you stepped through the door. But his grin soon died when he saw the exhausted and frankly disgusted look on your face as you slammed your bag and keys onto the kitchen island. 

Bucky watched in confusion as you plopped down on the couch beside him, letting out a big sigh before kicking your heels off. “So, what happened?” He questioned, making you turn your head in his direction. “Men suck.” Bucky nodded, “We do.”

“And they’re disrespectful, arrogant assholes.” 

“Do I need to kick someone’s ass, doll?”

You let your head fall onto Bucky’s shoulder, “Can you just hold me please.” And he did just that, wrapping his arms around you, he pulled your head into his side, tucking you into him. Your tight black mini-dress rode up in the process, Bucky pulling the material back down your thighs the best he could. “Wanna talk about it?”

You looked up at him, seeing the genuine concern written all across his face. “He was rude, ignoring me the entire time, he didn’t even tip-” “Wait, he didn’t tip the server?” You shook your head, a small spark of appreciation fluttering in your chest from the shock of Bucky’s words.  “Plus when I was walking to my car he grabbed me and kissed me without even asking.” You could feel Bucky’s grip tighten on you protectively, making your heart soar at his touch. 

You both sat in comfortable silence as you brought your hands to your lips, “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think I could find a guy that wasn’t a total pig.” Bucky shook his head, “You deserve so much better, babydoll.”

You could feel Bucky’s shoulders start to loosen as he slowly dipped his head down, apparent of what he wanted. “Buck?” “Yeah?” “Don't stop.” Bucky leaned down, his nose brushing yours, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

[ganymede-princess]

Vignettes | Robert Capa

Main fic

ship: robert capa X f!oc

warnings: sexual references/very VERY mild smut

summary: a companion piece to Entanglement Theory, this is a collection of scenes that serve as windows into Capa and Doc's relationship.

total word count: 2681

a/n: During the absolute madness and obsession that was the writing of Entanglement Theory, I imagined several scenarios that would not fit into the story. So instead of just letting them fizzle out, I've decided to write them out while I'm still in the depths of my obsession. Treat this as a fluffy little continuation of the previous story; less looming cosmic horror and more slice of life. There may be a sequel to this some time in the future. Also, while searching through Tumblr, I discovered a set of summarised backstories for each of the Icarus crew that were used during the film's production. They hit on the character's views on a few key subjects, so I decided to write one out for Doc.

written by @ganymedeprincess

Waiting Room - word count: 369

"You're nervous."

Capa looks up from his copy of National Geographic, studying me with an unreadable expression. Though the waiting room is slightly too warm, I still shiver at the frosty blue of his eyes as he peers at me through his glasses. I drum my fingers on the copy of Vogue in my lap.

"And you're not?" I flush.

Capa closes his magazine and purses his lips derisively.

"It's just LASIK. It won't hurt."

"I know, I'm a doctor, remember?"

"How could I forget?" The black frames of his glasses dominate his face, almost hiding the amusement in his eyes. I think I'll miss them when they're gone. "And yes, I'm nervous."

"Good. I don't feel so bad about it now."

He almost smiles as he goes back to reading.

"Your hair's getting longer." I bite my cheek.

"Mm." He looks at me from the corner of his eye, thumbing a lock of hair clinging to his neck. "I'm thinking I'll buzz it before departure so I won't have to worry about it haircuts for a few months."

"You'll look like Mace." I giggle.

"I hadn't thought of that." He looks up, narrowing his eyes.

"I wish you two got along better."

"He doesn't exactly make it easy."

"I agree, he can be quite antagonistic." My eyes fall on the fish tank across the room where a clownfish repeatedly prods at a closed anemone. "But you're both excellent scientists, and so interesting in your own ways."

"You like him, don't you?" His blue lantern eyes fall back to the magazine on his lap.

"Sure, he's a good friend." I skirt the obvious double entendre. Capa nods wordlessly. "You could just grow your hair out, y'know."

I hand him my copy of Vogue, folded to a photo of the actor Apollo Chalamet with his long black hair in a ponytail.

"I think it'd suit you."

He studies the page for a moment, and hands it back with a wry smirk.

"Maybe."

"Um, Met-roh-doo-rah?" A young woman in scrubs reads my name from a clipboard.

"Metrodora." I correct her with a smile. "See you after, Capa."

"See you, Metrodora." Capa's crystal eyes glimmer as he teases me. "Break a leg."

Caught - word count: 1990

Gunfire hails from all sides as I crouch run behind Harvey, covering his back as we seek shelter behind a small armored quad. Snow falls and piles up inside the hangar from the hole our magnet bomb ripped in the ceiling, slicking the floor so I have to take care not to slip as we run outside to meet the enemy tank that is rolling in, shifting the snow into dirty brown wakes behind it.

"I don't know why you don't play it in Simulation." Mace sprawls on the end of the lounge, munching a muesli bar. "You guys could afford to break a sweat more often."

"I just came from the gym room, Mace." I scoff as I unload a hail of bullets into the sprocket of the tank.

"Believe it or not, we don't all want the stress of actually being in a war zone." Harvey adds, scaling the side of the huge, silver vehicle with his grappling hook.

"You're not actually-"

"We know!" Harvey snaps.

"Are you just gonna sit there commentating or are you gonna pick up a controller?" Trey climbs up the other side, swinging across to drop a grenade into a porthole on the side of the tank, only for it to fall out of another hole, blowing him to smithereens. "Shit!"

"Nice." I giggle, and jog over to revive him. "You can have mine in a second, I'm gonna go make a cuppa."

Beside me, somebody settles on the arm of the couch. Enraptured by the action on the screen before me, I can't afford to look away.

"That you, Capa?"

"Yeah." His voice rumbles pleasantly, but I keep my eyes on the screen as I break the camera on the front of the tank with my armored forearm.

"Can you put the kettle on, please?"

"Yes, dear." He quips, wandering off.

I scoff, my face flushing with the keen awareness that none of the crew know about our affair. Trey makes a whip cracking sound with his mouth.

"Shut up, Trey!" I clumsily hand my controller to Mace. He snatches it from me a little too aggressively and I glare him down. "Hey!"

"Mmph."

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing." He scowls.

"Look, I don't know why you're so sour but you can't take it out on me." I frown, stalking out of the room.

"What happened?" Capa asks as I arrive in the kitchen. He is perched on the countertop holding a sleeve of saltines.

"What?" I avoid his gaze, knowing the instant I meet his eyes I will be powerless to look away.

"You're upset, what happened?" He taps the back of my leg with his foot. The warmth in his voice lures me into the snare of his vision.

"It's that easy to tell, huh?" His eyes cool the fire in my belly.

"Mm. I can read you." He puts down the saltines and holds out his hands in offering. "What happened?"

"It's Mace." I give him my hands sidle in between his knees. "He snapped at me for no reason."

"I'll kill him." Capa's jaw tightens.

"Thanks." I peck his cheek. "Do you know what's upsetting him?"

"You think it's my fault?" He frowns.

"No. I just thought you might know."

"Could be anything." He shakes his head, eyes sharp with annoyance. "I will kill him if you want me to."

"Mm." I smile, tuck my arms around him and lay my head on his chest, reveling in his warmth.

"Look at me." Capa rewards my obedience with a kiss.

It begins gently enough, his huge, rough hands cradling my face while his lips barely brush against mine. Greedily, I press forward to deepen the kiss, but he breaks away to look at me.

"I haven't seen you much today." He smooths my hair down. "I've missed you."

"Me too." I cradle his face in my hands and watch as he lets out a shuddering breath. "I wish we had more chances to work together."

"I'll see if I can move around the chores roster next week." He nuzzles my hand. "Hopefully we can line our break times up as well so we can go and hang out in the Earth Room."

"That'd be great." I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and nudge his nose with mine, silently pleading him to kiss me again.

He takes pity on my desperation, kissing me deeply. I part my lips and his tongue slips into my mouth, swirling a heady vortex of sensation that reverberates through every inch of me. Helpless and at his mercy, I try desperately to push closer to him, to feel his taut muscles beneath his shirt and-

Somebody clears their throat.

"Jesus!" I leap back from him, sending my empty cup scuttling across the floor. "Searle, I-"

"Searle, it's not-"

Searle puts his hand up to silence us.

"Congratulations." He rolls his eyes, pushing past me to grab some decaf. "Just, don't do that in the kitchen, yeah?"

Desperately, I look to Capa who has surreptitiously covered his lap with a tea-towel and the Saltines. In spite of my burning embarrassment, I stifle a laugh.

"Searle, listen-" Capa begins.

"No, you listen." Searle pours his coffee. "I'm not going to tell on you, but I do want to have a talk with both of you about the implications of this situation. Now, I suggest you go have a cold shower, separately, and meet me in my office in thirty minutes."

Searle slinks away, leaving Capa and I in stunned silence. I bury my face in my hands and sigh. Capa hops down from the counter and rubs my shoulder then wordlessly guides me to the bathrooms.

****

Capa and I reconvene outside Searle's office. I wring my hands, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't be scared." He murmurs. "It's only Searle."

"I don't know why I feel like I've done something wrong." I confess, anxiety rising like bile in my chest.

Capa glances up and down the hallway, tilts my face up to look at him for a moment, then pulls me into a hug.

"I'm not feeling great about it, either," He admits, stroking my hair. "But we're gonna go in there and hear him out, then we'll decide what to do."

"I guess it was always gonna come to this."

"Mm." Capa breaks the embrace. "C'mon."

As we enter his office, Searle looks up from his book and places it face down on his desk. I notice it's old and tattered, and titled Children of Men.

"Glad you both could make it." He swivels his chair around as he greets us. "You look like a pair of kids in the principal's office. Try not to feel so tense, I'm here to help."

Capa and I sit down in silence. I want the comfort of his hand in mine, but somehow it feels wrong to do it in front of Searle.

"So, do either of you have anything to say, or will I start things off?"

Capa and I exchange a glance. I shake my head. Capa looks as if he is about to say something, but he bites his lip and stays silent.

"Alright." Searle raises his eyebrows. "I guess I'll just get it out of the way and say that I've known about you two for a while."

"How...?" Capa frowns as we exchange a glance.

"Well, you're not exactly subtle about it, are you?" He sculls the last of his decaf and winces. "God, I miss real coffee. Anyway, I know you're trying to hide it, but I don't know how long you expect that to last."

"We're just worried about how everyone's going to take it." I wring my hands.

"I wouldn't worry about that. Whatever tensions come up can be ironed out with a mediator." Searle's face softens. "But we need to think about whether you should tell anyone at all. I suggest you tell Kaneda, so he can work with me to reduce friction if things get hairy between the two of you."

"I can't imagine that happening." Capa says.

"Well, you think that now, but it's not always that straightforward. For instance, if this is just a friends with benefits situation, I think you ought to keep it to yourselves until it fizzles out; but beyond that, you should consider the risks. We're going to be stuck here for another two years at least, so it'll be hard on all of us if things go wrong between you two."

I look over at Capa and he offers me his hand. After a moment of hesitation, I take it.

"It's not like that for us." He assures him.

"It didn't just happen overnight." I squeeze his hand. "Well, it kind of did, but it was a long time coming."

"You're really serious about this, huh? I figured as much." Searle grins at Capa. "You've been smiling so much, it was kinda scaring me."

Capa rolls his eyes, a warm tint rising on his cheeks

"Doctor Aldrin," Searle addresses me directly, suddenly serious. "I want to make it clear to you that I don't doubt your ability to carry out your medic and psych duties under these circumstances, but I think it would be in everyone's best interests if you're no longer assigned as mediator in conflicts involving Capa."

"I agree. I'll be the first to admit I have a bias here. I guess I didn't take my training seriously enough."

"Training isn't perfect." He assures me. "You can try to rationalize your feelings away, but it won't work. It can't work. People are built to love. We do it to survive, so really, it's going to happen whether it's convenient or not."

I turn to look at Capa, feeling sunshine beaming into me from his radiant blue eyes. He offers me a smile and runs his thumb over my knuckles.

"So what should we do moving forward?" He presses.

"Well that's up to you. You can take people aside and tell them if you feel that's going to be beneficial, or you can just start acting like a couple and the crew will figure it out themselves. You could even call a meeting, sit everyone down real serious." Searle chuckles. "Either way, I imagine you'll get a little pushback to begin with."

"From Mace?" Capa asks.

"Yes, I expect he'll argue that a relationship between you two will distract you from the mission, but ultimately jealously on his and Cassie's part will be contributing factors."

"Cassie? Jealous?" I gasp.

I have worked with Cassie often during our voyage through the solar system, and over that time I've grown to enjoy our time together and to admire her free spirit. Despite this, I have sensed a distance between her and I, and now I know why. Mace, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve. I have long known of his feelings for me, and for a time I tried to see him in the same light that he sees me. At the time, it seemed that my fondness for Capa was nothing short of futile, but even in my hopelessness, I knew that Mace and I would never work together.

"Yes, she's come to me several times to discuss her feelings for Capa." Searle frowns sympathetically. "I've done my best to help her cope without encouraging her. I feel that your relationship will be a tough hurdle for her to get over, but I think it will help her to build resilience. Same with Mace. It's quite tragic, really. They want you, and you want each other."

Feeling more than a little morose, I glance at Capa and squeeze his hand. He understands my signal and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the advice, Searle." The men exchange a handshake in mutual admiration.

"Thank you." I peck him on the cheek, earning a delighted grin. "Your opinion is invaluable."

Doc's Character Profile - word count: 322

Metrodora "Doc" Aldrin - Medic

Nationality - Australian

Doc grew up academically gifted, graduating from highschool at fifteen and moving to the United States to study medicine in the Ivy League at her parents' behest. Pursuing her childhood fascination with space, she went on to specialise in aeronautical medicine, eventually gaining a position in the same research lab as Searle where they became fast friends.

Doc was too young to accompany the first Icarus mission, but in the years following, she became obsessed with space travel and sought out a position on the Icarus II.

Seeing her passion and potential as an asset on board, Searle helped her mask her anxiety and depression during the psychiatric evaluation, vowing to help her overcome her issues in the years they would spend living together.

Doc holds a maternal view of her crewmates, despite being the youngest on board. She makes a point of fostering personal bonds with each of the crew, both to keep tabs on their health and because she craves human connection. She loves her crew like family and hopes that during the mission they with both grow as people, and grow to appreciate eachother the way she does.

Though she does not consider herself a natural conversationalist, she often draws closed-off people out of their shells due to her willingness to share personal feelings and experiences with people soon after meeting them. It is this mutual honesty that both Mace and Capa fell for, though Mace's feelings come from being listened to, while Capa's come from the act of listening.

Doc lives happily without religion, feeling comfortable that her success is self-made and her fate is in her own hands. The closest thing to God in her eyes is the life-giving power of the sun. As Icarus draws closer to the sun's surface, she wonders if this comparison is still metaphorical.

At night she dreams of the vastness of space, and of Capa.

[ltash]

Till Death Do Us Part

Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination, lasting till death do us part." – Voltaire

Ghost x female reader

They opened the door, and I stepped inside. The safehouse was a small, modest building, its worn exterior hinting at its age but providing a sense of security.

"How do we get in?" Soap asked, glancing around the room.

I rolled my eyes. "Roll your eyes back. Is there a brain there? Obviously, we break in."

"Not funny, Angela," Soap replied, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah, by breaking in," Ghost chimed in with a smirk.

"That's why I love the Ghost," Soap said, grinning.

"Angela, you have to stay here. We can't take you with us. It's very dangerous," Ghost said firmly, taking hold of my shoulders.

"But I..." I started to insist.

"I said I won't take you there. We'll manage it on our own," Ghost interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Okay," I replied, feeling a bit defeated. "But what will I do here all alone?"

"You can take the tire swing on the tree. We won't mind," Rodolfo joked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh my God!" I burst out laughing, the tension easing for a moment with his humor.

"We need more than that," Ghost said, eyeing the sparse supplies in the safehouse.

Rodolfo slid open a door, revealing a stockpile of ammo. "And a vehicle," he said, tossing a set of keys to Ghost, who caught them effortlessly.

He turned on the old light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a military convoy parked in the back.

"Stay safe, you three," I said, watching them as they prepared to leave.

My heart was racing a million miles a minute. Something felt off, but I kept silent, not wanting to undermine their mission.

I stood by the tree, watching them drive away. The convoy's engine roared to life, and as they disappeared into the distance, I clasped my hands together, praying silently for their safety.

They reached the prison complex, the tension palpable. Ghost took the lead, moving with the silent precision of a predator. Soap followed closely, covering him as Ghost used his stealth skills to knife down the enemies one by one.

Using rope ascenders, they climbed the towering prison walls. The ascent was swift and silent, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Reaching the top, they broke into the control room and swiftly eliminated the shadows stationed there.

"I am out, watch for me," Ghost whispered.

"Rog! Good luck, LT," Soap replied, his eyes glued to the CCTV feed, ensuring Ghost's path remained clear.

Soap helped Ghost, guiding him about the location of the enemies. Ghost moved with precision, knifing them down one by one. As they rescued Alejandro, they moved towards the exit, shooting enemies. But in the chaos, Ghost got left behind.

Five to six shadows surrounded him, beating him badly. One struck his head with a metal pipe, and he fell unconscious.

Soap, Rudy, and Alejandro had already made it out. "Where is Hermano?" Alejandro asked, looking around.

"He’s left inside. Ghost, do you copy?" Soap called, but there was no reply. "LT! Where are ye?" he yelled, desperation in his voice.

"We cannot go back, shadows are after us," Rudy said, urgency driving them forward.

Just then, a helicopter arrived, shooting down the enemies. Alejandro, Soap, and Rudy made their way towards the wall and used ascenders to climb over.

"Where is Ghost?" Captain Price demanded as they regrouped.

"He’s missing. He was left behind and his comms are silent," Soap replied, the worry evident in his tone.

"How in the hell did you leave him behind? He is our Lieutenant!" Captain Price yelled, his frustration boiling over.

"Hermano, we have no time. We have to move. We’ll rescue him once we sort it out," Rudy said, trying to calm the situation.

Reluctantly, they made their way to the van and drove towards Alejandro’s safehouse, bringing along the Vaqueros soldiers they had rescued. The mission wasn fucked up because Ghost was MIA.

I was fooling around outside the safehouse when the vehicles approached. I saw Alejandro, Rodolfo, Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz climbing down from the van.

"Where is Ghost?" I asked, my heart racing.

"I am sorry, hermana, but he is MIA," Alejandro said, his voice heavy with regret.

"What the fuck? How can he be missing? How could you leave him behind like this? Soap, say something. Are you guys out of your mind?" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

"Don't worry, hermana, we'll get him back," Alejandro tried to reassure me.

"I don't know. I won't forgive you if anything happens to him. I will kill everyone. You hear me?" I shouted, my voice breaking as I stomped inside the safehouse, the weight of fear and anger pressing down on me.

In the interrogation room, Ghost sat tied to a chair, his Beretta and vest stripped away, leaving him vulnerable in just his zipper hoodie. Graves, flanked by his shadows, paced in front of him, exuding an air of menace and authority.

"Where are they, Lieutenant?" Graves demanded, his voice a low growl edged with threat.

Ghost remained silent, his jaw clenched in defiance. He knew the consequences of revealing any information. Graves motioned to one of his men, who delivered a swift punch to Ghost's gut, causing him to grunt in pain.

"You think we won't find out eventually?" Graves sneered, his eyes narrowing. "Your comrades can't protect you forever."

Ghost spat blood onto the floor, his gaze unwavering. He was accustomed to pain, physical and emotional, but he wouldn't break.

"Where is Captain Price headed?" Graves pressed, his tone now laced with impatience.

Another punch landed on Ghost's cheek, snapping his head to the side. He gritted his teeth, tasting blood in his mouth. Still, he remained silent, refusing to give Graves the satisfaction of a response.

Graves stepped closer, leaning in until his face was inches from Ghost's. "You're making a mistake, Lieutenant. We will find out one way or another."

With that, he nodded to his men, who resumed their relentless questioning and punishment. Ghost endured each blow with stoic resolve, knowing that his silence was not just about protecting his team but also about preserving his honor and duty.

Once I went inside, I fell in a corner, crying my eyes out. Soap approached me, trying to calm me down.

"I don't wanna talk to anybody," I yelled, pushing him away.

Captain Price knelt down beside me, patting my shoulder. "Angela, we'll get him back. He's a fighter. Nothing will happen to him. Don't worry."

"We are going to kill Graves and take back the base," Price said, his voice firm and resolute.

"When?" Rudy asked, his eyes narrowed with determination.

"Now," Captain Price replied. "We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We are a team, Ghost Team."

"I'm going with you guys," I said, standing up, my voice filled with resolve. "I will kill that bastard Graves. He is mine."

I was the only woman there, and all eyes were on me, but I didn't care. Ghost needed us, and I would stop at nothing to bring him back.

It was almost sunrise when we got prepared. I was in the van with Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, and other Vaqueros. Captain Price and Gaz were in the helicopter, providing air support. Other Vaqueros soldiers followed in the vehicle behind us. The air was thick with tension and determination. It was now or never.

"Everyone ready?" Soap asked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through our veins.

Alejandro nodded, checking his gear one last time. "Let's do this."

Rudy glanced at me, giving a reassuring nod. "Stay close, hermana."

I took a deep breath, gripping my weapon tighter. "Let's bring Ghost back and take back our base."

The van sped towards our destination, the horizon tinged with the first light of dawn. We were ready to face whatever came our way, united by a single goal: to rescue Ghost and take down Graves.

As we approached, the landscape became a blur, our focus sharpening with each passing second. The time for action was upon us, and we would stop at nothing to succeed.

Our van came to a stop at a safe distance from the compound. We waited anxiously for Captain Price's signal to breach the gate. The tension was palpable as we watched the helicopter position itself for the strike.

"Get ready," Soap muttered, eyes fixed on the compound gates.

With a deafening blast, Captain Price blew open the gate using the helicopter's firepower. The moment it crumbled, we wasted no time. We rushed out of the van, adrenaline pumping through our veins. Other Vaqueros soldiers moved in from the opposite side, converging with us.

"Soap, you and the other Vaqueros, follow me," I directed firmly, my voice carrying the weight of urgency and resolve. Beside me, Soap nodded in silent acknowledgment, his eyes reflecting the same determination.

"Gaz and Alejandro, head through the storage," I continued, outlining the strategy. The storage area would be a key point of entry and an essential part of our mission's success.

With the plan set in motion, we moved swiftly. The sound of gunfire echoed through the compound as we advanced, each step taking us closer to our objective and, hopefully, to finding Ghost. The air buzzed with adrenaline and determination as we navigated through the labyrinthine corridors.

I moved swiftly, my training kicking in as I dispatched the shadows blocking our path with precise shots. Each movement was calculated, each enemy fell under my focused gaze.

Graves struck at our helicopter, sending it spiraling down in a fiery explosion. Captain Price had managed to escape just in time, a stroke of luck in the chaos of battle.

Our objective loomed clear amidst the chaos: infiltrate Alejandro's office building, now under Graves' control. It was a stronghold we needed to reclaim, a critical foothold in our mission against the treacherous Shadows.

As gunfire echoed around us and the scent of smoke filled the air, determination hardened in my heart. Graves had underestimated our resolve, and now he would face the consequences.

When the last of the shadows fell under our onslaught, we converged at Alejandro's office door. Rudy swiftly planted the C4 explosives.

"1, 2, 3," he counted, and with a thunderous blast, the door shattered into fragments, clearing our path inside.

My thoughts raced to Ghost as we stormed the room. Amidst the chaos and urgency, my determination surged. I was resolved to save him, no matter the peril or cost.

Inside, the building echoed with tension and the lingering scent of gunpowder. Graves and his cohorts were nowhere to be seen, but the signs of their occupation were stark — overturned furniture, shattered glass, and the residue of a hostile takeover.

I scanned the room, searching for any clue that might lead me to Ghost's whereabouts.

I made my way through the corridors, checking and opening every door. “Ghost!” I called out, my voice echoing through the abandoned hallways.

My steps halted near the interrogation room. Without hesitation, I slammed the door open. My eyes darted to him immediately.

There he was, tied to a chair, his skull mask broken and torn to shreds, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. The dripping blood had soaked into his jeans. His vest was gone, leaving him only in his hoodie.

He looked at me with eyes devoid of feeling. I ran towards him. “Babe! I’m here,” I said, hugging him tightly.

“Angela!” he whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I cupped his face gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Simon. I promise.”

His hands were bound with a bunch of zip ties. I grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut them one by one. His wrists were bruised and bleeding, but I kept my focus.

“Soap! Captain Price! I’ve got Ghost. Get to the interrogation room, now!” I yelled into the comms, my voice firm and urgent.

Soap and Captain Price rushed into the room. Together, they helped Ghost to his feet and guided him out, with me following closely behind.

Shadows were still swarming the area. Gaz and I took up positions, covering for them as we moved. Every Shadow that came into view was taken down on the spot, our shots precise and lethal.

“Keep moving!” I shouted, firing at an approaching Shadow.

Gaz took down another with a well-placed shot. “We’ve got your back!” he called out.

Soap and Price kept Ghost steady, moving swiftly but carefully through the building. We needed to get out, but we also needed to clear a path. The tension was high, but we worked like a well-oiled machine, each of us knowing exactly what needed to be done.

“Almost there!” Price shouted, glancing back at me.

“Just a bit further,” I urged, taking out another Shadow. “Stay with us, Ghost. We’re almost out.”

When we went out of the building, more Shadows emerged from the surrounding darkness.

Soap, Gaz, and Captain Price covered us, their gunfire echoing through the night as they took down enemy after enemy.

I tilted my neck upwards to look into Ghost's eyes, holding his hands in mine. "I promised you, I will be your best friend. I will be with you through thick and thin. See? I found you. I won't let anything happen to you." I smiled, trying to reassure him.

"Thank you so much, Angela, for always being there for me," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

I saw a sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle I was missing to see for a long time. We looked into each other's eyes. No words were needed at that moment.

Just then, a stray bullet hit me on my shoulder near my neck and went all the way through into his chest.

We both fell, with me landing on his chest.

"Simon!" I gasped his name. My breaths came shaky and in wheezes.

"Angela," he whispered.

I held his hand gently in mine as I rolled to his side, looking into his eyes. He looked into mine, and it was like time froze. The chaos and gunfire around us muffled, everything in slow motion.

It was like time froze there. The sounds of gunfire and chaos faded into the background as I lay on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat rising, frantic and scared.

"Angela," he whispered, his voice strained. Despite the pain, his gaze remained locked on mine.

Our blood mingled, a visceral reminder of our bond and the danger that now threatened to tear us apart. I clutched his hand gently, feeling his grip tighten in response. I struggled to keep my composure, knowing that time was slipping away.

"I won't let you go that easily," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos around us.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to steady my voice. "I'm here, Simon. Stay with me," I pleaded, my heart breaking with each labored breath he took.

"Simon," I whispered again, desperate for him to hear me, to hold on.

I had no energy to even talk. My breath came in shallow, wheezing gasps. Each breath felt like a battle I was losing.

His eyes, once bright with determination, began to close slowly. My grip on his hand tightened, as if I could anchor him to this world through sheer willpower.

Our surroundings faded into the background as I focused solely on him, on our love that had defied every obstacle until now. I felt a deep ache in my chest, a realization that our time together might be slipping away in these agonizing moments.

As his eyes closed, I held onto the memory of his gaze, the strength and love I saw reflected there. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I whispered one last time, "I love you, Simon."

The world seemed to stand still as darkness closed in around us, enveloping our intertwined hands and the unspoken promises that lingered in the air.

[twstgarden]

❁ ❝ 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽 ❞

━ third years and magicless! fae! gn! reader  ━ living as a magicless fae has its ups and down, but you will never regret accepting night raven college's invitation to attend their academy. (f/n means first name)

requested by: @king-zi request type: headcanons requester’s message: Hi! I am new to your blog and love your writing, I really liked the Lilia and fae!gender neutral reader as well as yuu driving with the third years! I'm new to the request thing so my apologies for anything that doesn't meet the requirements Request: Can I get a gender neutral reader/yuu who is a magicless fae interacting with the third years? Maybe on a trip or something? Again I love your writing and hope you keep writing as your work is amazing ❤ florist’s note: hello there, welcome to my blog. i'm glad you enjoyed those works of mine. thank you for your request, little one. i hope i did not misunderstand anything. stay safe. <3

do not steal or translate without my permission.

being a magicless faerie has its ups and downs. you have been labelled as the “odd” one in your community as other faeries found it bizarre for you to have no magical abilities. faeries were known to have innate magic and harness their powers from nature itself, making them one of the most powerful magical beings known in twisted wonderland.

but you, dear, are the odd one out.

when you were younger, you’d find this quite a predicament. you hated the very idea of being different from other faeries. you have no magic, so you felt like you never belonged with the fae community, but you had a long life span, so you felt like you never belonged with the human race either.

being a magicless faerie meant you have never expected to study in any magic schools. what’s the use, anyway?

but lo and behold, you have received an invitation from night raven college. before you knew it, here you were in the prestigious academy, attending as a regular student. though, you were not able to participate in magic-based classes, such as practical magic, conjuration, etc. 

at this moment, you found yourself right outside the campus gates with cater and trey standing beside you. cater had his elbow resting on your shoulder while holding a food itinerary, “okay~ so, we’re having a food trip around sage’s island today and we, third years, are the lucky ones to experience this first! we’re visiting around a total of ten restaurants today!”

“ten?” questioned vil in shock as his eyes widened a bit. vil was wearing his outdoor wear while holding the food itinerary, seeing as everyone had their own copies. rook stood beside him with his camera hanging from his neck as he spoke, “oh la la, that’s a lot of places to visit and eat at.”

“it’s great, though. we get to travel around the island and see what they serve in here,” spoke lilia, “wouldn’t that be a good idea in case we want to eat out or something?”

cater nodded in agreement with lilia’s words, “yes! lilia-kun gets it! so, shall we head out?” a series of ‘yea’s and ‘okay’s were heard from the group as leona held onto the car keys, sitting on the driver’s seat of the suv as he started the ignition. he was the driver for this trip, seeing as he was the one who knew how to manoeuvre a vehicle out of these young adults, grandpa, and cat.

you took a seat behind leona with grim on your lap as he grew excited about the trip. “i wanna eat now!” cheered grim as you sighed to yourself. cater was seated on the passenger seat as he turned to look at grim, “don’t worry, grim. you can eat as much as you want on our trip today!” 

“cay-kun, please,” you pleaded, “i’m broke. don’t encourage him.”

“i’ll pay for your meals then,” spoke malleus as he chimed into the conversation with a smile. you and grim looked at him with slightly wide eyes as lilia cooed, “ooh~ someone’s being generous~” 

you smiled politely at malleus and laughed awkwardly, “malleus, it’s really not necessary. i’ll pay for grim’s meals and make sure he won’t buy a lot.” 

“who said i’ll only pay for grim’s meals?” asked malleus with a smile, making leona roll his eyes and produce some barfing noises while driving.

“blegh! gross! stop flirting with them, horned bastard!” exclaimed leona as he shivered in disgust, making cater and trey laugh softly at the scene. idia shrunk in his seat as he sighed to himself, while malleus replied back to leona, “flirting? i’m merely offering to pay for their meals. it’s a gesture of kindness, kingscholar.”

malleus then smirked as he taunted him, “of course, you wouldn’t know that since you’re probably dozing off on the wheel.” leona scoffed at his words and spoke, “if i did fall asleep on the wheel, you’d all be dead.”

he then mumbled, “would be nice, considering your ass is in this vehicle.”

vil sighed at their banter and looked at you, since he was seated beside you, “this is why leona and malleus should never be in the same room, let alone the same vehicle, together. you’ll never hear the end of their fights.”

before the argument could escalate further, cater interrupted their banter, “uhh… there! the barbecue restaurant is up ahead!” leona looked at where cater was pointing and parked the vehicle as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

once everyone was inside the restaurant, the waiter had already gotten their orders as they all sat at a table. you sat beside malleus, but grim took a seat between you two with an excited glint in his eyes. idia was seated in front of you as he had his phone out, taking pictures of grim with a smile on his face.

“once i have my barbecue, it’s going down my stomach!” cheered grim, making malleus chuckle at his words while you patted grim’s head. “If you eat too much here, you won’t get to enjoy the other nine restaurants,” you spoke, almost as if you were scolding him a bit. you then shifted your attention to the ignihyde dorm leader taking pictures of the cat-monster beside you, making you laugh softly, “idia?”

realizing he was caught in the act, he hid his phone and looked at you with wide eyes, “h-huh? i wasn’t doing anything!”

you gave him a teasing smile before waving your hand dismissively, “nah, it’s fine, man. grim can be cute sometimes, anyway.”

“sometimes?” questioned idia with a raised brow, but before you could respond, the food was served and grim was the first one to dig in before anyone else could grab their food.

“goodness, grim. do you not get full?” asked vil in shock and slight annoyance at grim’s behaviour, but the little monster did not care as he replied while munching away, “rarely.”

you gave the rest an apologetic smile before digging in. it was peaceful and fun all the while. lilia was seated on malleus’ left-hand side as he peeked his head towards you, looking at you with a smile, “so, little faerie, how do you like the trip so far?”

you turned to look at lilia while sipping on your drink and teasing him a little, “so far so good, old faerie.” lilia gave you a playfully annoyed expression before laughing it off, seeing as you weren’t wrong anyway. 

all while you were talking to lilia, cater was looking at you with a curious expression until he spoke, “hey, n/n… i hope you won’t take it the wrong way, but what’s it like to live that long?”

though the question seemed vague, you knew he was asking about your experience as a long-lived fae with no magic. you smiled at cater to show him that there isn’t any problem with being curious about that, “hmm… i’d say i feel like an ordinary being with a long life. it’s like you get to experience those moments that are now just seen in history books, you know? it’s quite interesting but lonely.”

“i see…” trailed vil, “...do you ever wish you had magic?”

vil’s question made you think for a while as you hummed softly in thought before smiling at him, “not at all. maybe when i was younger, i would have wished to have magic like everyone else. however, as i grew older, i accepted who i really am. being magicless has its advantages too, y’know!”

“at least i won’t have to worry about overblots,” you mumbled under your breath as you continued to eat your meal.

“we heard that,” remarked leona as he looked at you, making you smile sheepishly at them before returning to your meal. once everyone was finished with theirs, trey grabbed his food itinerary and spoke, “our next stop is… a brasserie.”

“a brasserie? très bien, let’s go, then!” cheered rook as he and the rest stepped out of the barbecue restaurant. 

while you walked back to the suv, you felt a hand on your shoulder as you turned around and saw trey smiling at you. “hey… i thought you might need to hear this. if you ever need someone to lean on, we’re here, okay?” spoke the vice leader politely as he continued smiling at you.

you smiled in response, finding his gesture sweet, “thank you, trey. i appreciate it.”

“for someone long-lived like me, i will never regret attending night raven college. the relationships i’ve cultivated with the third years will always be a special memory that i’ll keep until my last breath.”

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[oh-miniso]

micheal kaiser x reckless racer reader ♡

°☆° warning: gn!reader - reader is reckless as hell, characters may seem occ, not proofread

⚠ do not copy, edit or repost in any other platform

hearts & reblogs are appreciated <3

kaiser who's the young star prodigy of basterd münchen & your long time boyfriend-turned-finace

kaiser who loves driving his rich-ass cars and flaunt his wealth, a hand on his beloved's thigh or on the backrest as he drives through the night (or anytime really)

kaiser who's absolutely terrified of the speed you take, how you drive with no abandon, no regards for traffic or rules even if you're an experienced racer with exceptional control

kaiser who refuses to let you drive anywhere anytime and keeps all the keys confiscated. you need to go somewhere, he'll drive you or his manager even ness won't mind (he secretly lets you drive tho)

kaiser who prays you don't get injured during your practice or races. he does not want a repeat of the time you nearly broke your spine bcs a rival thought it fun to mock you. neither do you want to see the egoist on his knees with tears flowing down his cheeks begging you to be careful with your his life (how can an emperor rule without his empress? its an absurd and depressing thought for him)

kaiser who burns with jealousy and loneliness simultaneously when ness requests you to take him on a ride 'round the race track and you agree with a dazzling smile and blinding enthusiasm. why can't he share in on your enthusiasm like you do with his?

kaiser who decides to get over his irrational fear in an equally irrational style by riding roller coasters till he throws up and when you inquire about his sick face he plays it off as too much practice and heat (noa agrees to play along for whatever reason known only to God)

kaiser who finally finally gets over his fear not entirely after much nausea and pounding headaches and upset stomach, and asks you to drive after a romantic dinner at some michelin star restaurant. you agree with much reluctance (it's the first time kaiser has asked you to drive you think he's drunk)

kaiser who feels the wind caressing his face, the vehicles zooming by, your hair flying with the wind (God you look so ethereal in the blurry city lights that its a sin) and he finally understands the emotions you feel when you accelerate to the speed of light

michael fucking kaiser who still refuses to let you drive most of the time. he may be over his fear but that doesn't mean you are over your recklessness