#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

[georgebanton]

Look no further than King's Mobile Lock Inc. because we are your trusted partner for all locksmith requirements. We offer complete building lockout services, available 24/7 to guarantee your security. Navigate the complexities of Locksmith solutions in Silverdale WA, by choosing us. Our mobile locksmith services provide quick and efficient solutions, whether you need automotive locksmiths, general lock installation, or professional locks repair service. Visit our lock stores for affordable key copying and master locksmith services. Our commercial locksmith services and security door locks guarantee your business stays protected. For quality security door lock services and expert locksmith assistance, contact King's Mobile Lock Inc. today. Trust us for reliable and affordable No.1 locksmith services in Silverdale, WA.

[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

[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

[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

[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.

[starrymused]

@lannamused

Why did he feel like he was going to be sick? It wasn't like he needed to be nervous or anything; he'd been kept in the loop every step of the way as Jack and co. worked on bringing Yang down. With the help of Yeon-woo, Jack and Polina had tracked down every colleague of Yang's that held a copy of his blackmail tape. Jack had assured him that they'd ensured all physical copies had been destroyed (Polina had taken it upon herself to quickly check they were legit before doing so) and Yeon-woo had hacked into their servers to track down any digital copies that might be floating around. Once he gave the all-clear, he then shared some interesting secrets that Pretty Savage had been keeping with Alexei. With those in his arsenal, the lawyer was able to pull all of colleagues together to work on not only exposing Yang and the company for their shady dealings but to begin the process of securing Yang's assets so that they could later be passed on to Dae and Singularity.

Dae was touched, more than he ever thought he could express. He'd gone through his life with the mindset that he could only truly rely on himself and that everyone else would just get in the way or backstab him. He knew he was a key player in this gang and that he was needed for the drug side of the business due to his company shipments being the main way for drugs to travel. But he could also sense the care and sensitive approach that was put into this job. He really appreciated it.

With all of that going on, leading to this moment, Dae knew this was it. This had to be the end. As he stood in front of one of Polina's torture warehouses, he took a breath. They were far away from the city, out here in the countryside. There were no houses out this way and the nearest gas station was quite a drive off. Gunner who was used to driving Alexei all over the country said that barely any vehicles drove out this way so there would be no disturbances. He was alone to deal with this evil that had plagued his life since his teenage years (unbeknownst to him at the time) and someone who tried to ruin it completely since the last two.

But he wasn't alone to face it. While everyone else was still working hard to keep this under wraps and prepare for any challenges, Dae had Kwang-sun here with him. Kwang-sun had been the one to keep tabs on Yang, stalking him like prey, until he was given the go-ahead to capture him. Despite his quick-temper and desire to cause Yang suffering, he'd done it with the proficiency he was known for in his professional life. He always knew what was expected on a job and worked to achieve that.

Dae was glad he was here.

"Okay," He spoke calmly despite how fast his heart was racing. Damn these nerves. Why was he nervous? "Let's go in."

[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]

[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.

[nonhumanresources]

Author Of Her Own Story

Lil late but hey, this was meant to come out in October so y'know. It hasn't snowed here yet so you get some autumn vibes now instead. Also, this is the first story I'm posting from the commissions I opened up a few months back. More to come! This one was commissioned by @champloon, he's a cool dude! Go check him out!

Summary: Ryan attends the 16th Annual Harvest Renaissance Fair after several year of attempts, clad in the armor of a tinfoil knight and ready to have an incredible time. A disagreement with a vendor leads to a truly unforgettable experience with the patron saint of the harvest.

What to expect: Dragon transformation, TG, apotheosis, macro, forced language change, and some good old fashioned jousting.

Length: 4.5k words.

If you'd prefer to read this story in an easier format, here's a Google Drive link!

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Ryan’s greaves crunched on gravel as he stepped out of his car, raising one hand to block the noonday sunlight. It gleamed off the vehicle and his armor alike, wreathing him as if in some holy mandate—one that included a Honda, at least. He checked his pockets—wallet, phone, keys—then set off on his knight’s divine journey, into the great unknown. 

Of course, it was only about thirty yards from his parking spot to the ticket booth for the Sixteenth Annual Harvest Renaissance Fair, but it still felt like some kind of mythical journey. After four years of work, inopportune family trips, and a particularly bad cold, he’d finally made it to the premier local late-summer festivity. Ryan had spared no expense on his cosplay; of course, with amateurish skills at the craft, “sparing no expense” meant using four rolls of aluminum foil to construct the vague approximation of a knight’s armor, but it had still come out alright. The foil wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso in large segments, secured to dark clothing, with a wooden sword slung in a sheath on his back and a shield on one arm with a crest he’d copied from an internet search emblazoned across the front. He’d opted for no helmet, leaving his long, brown hair to flutter in the wind. A leather bag was slung over one shoulder, half tucked under armor, less fitting but a necessity for any convention. He’d seen better, but it was difficult to look at him and think anything other than ‘knight,’ so he considered that an accomplishment.

Click on the read more for the rest of the story, as usual. I love comments and questions so don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

Ryan joined the ticket queue behind a witch and some kind of troll, anxiously awaiting his turn. Now that the day was finally here, he could hardly wait. This costume had been half completed at least a year prior, but his failure to attend had killed any motivation. Now, he was determined to make the most of it. The ticket line wait was made even longer by the blazing sun overhead, though fortune was clearly smiling on him this particular day, and the foil armor actually reflected a shocking amount of the heat back out into the sky (and onto those unlucky enough to be standing next to him, not that he could notice). 

“Next!” a voice called out. The witch and troll duo shuffled away, leaving Ryan at the front of the line. He rushed forward and pulled out his phone. He flashed a QR code ticket to the elf sitting within the small ticket booth, who flashed him a practiced, tired smile as soon as it went though, and she stamped the back of his hand with a small pumpkin decal.

“The King welcomes you to the Harvest Fair,” she declared, talking fast. “All the kingdom’s greatest performers are present today, and eagerly await your fawning approval.” The elf glanced behind Ryan and groaned slightly, then pulled out a pamphlet, pointing at different sections of it as she rushed. “Map’s on page one and two, lore is right after that, read through it or talk to an actor and you can get an explanation on this year’s quest to serve the Goddess of the Harvest and whatnot. Vendors and food are inside on the left, performances are at the stage, jousting tourney starts in—” she glanced at her watch, “hour and fifteen, and bathrooms are marked on the map. Knight photoshoot times are listed if you care. Good day and happy harvest. Next!” 

Ryan blinked. That was… some kind of way to treat a guest. He opened his mouth to ask about the quest, but the elf attendant was already waving the people behind him forwards, and he had to shuffle sideways to avoid getting his toes stepped on by a dwarf. 

Well. He wasn’t about to let one rude employee ruin his day. She’s probably just overwhelmed running the booth all by herself, he reasoned. Not an excuse, really, but she had at least given him most of the information he was wondering about. He could always find an actor inside to get the rest if need be. As he walked through the front gate and caught his first glimpse of the fair, his heart swelled again, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Flutey, medieval music floated over crowds who bustled between small, erected wooden castles and shops, while an incredibly colorful crowd meandered through the fair, taking in the sights and smells. Ryan took a deep breath and dove in. 

The swell of people enveloped him immediately. Ryan rubbed shoulders with all manner of mythical beasts, races, and t-shirt wearing regular folk. He had to stumble to the side in order to circumvent a witch pushing a stroller covered in a paper mâché cauldron, then immediately duck sideways to avoid getting cleaved by a large ax that was resting on a barbarian’s shoulders. The whole affair was an utter jumble, but there was something magical about it all. And it’s not just the fairies, Ryan thought to himself, grinning. 

The flow of the crowd had naturally taken him away from the stage, off to the left, towards the smell and sound of sizzling food. Ryan’s eyes went wide seeing a man no more than four feet tall walking away from a small hut with a turkey leg that seemed nearly as tall as he was. He’d eaten before leaving, though, just in case he was tempted to buy overpriced festival food, so he cut sideways through the flowing sidewalks and ended up getting dumped out into the slower moving foot traffic of what seemed to be the vendors’ area. He took a breath and used the opportunity to pull out that small pamphlet he’d received back at the entrance. One side panel listed events, confirming the upcoming jousting match; opening it up to the proper page on the inside, he found a large, illustrated map. He was shocked to find he’d traveled nearly a third of the length of the fair in arriving where he had. Standing on his armored toes and peeking over the top of the crowd, he was able to confirm that the entrance was quite some distance away, now. 

Must be moving faster than I realized, he thought. The vendors’ area, labeled as The Harvest Market, took up a massive chunk of real estate on this side of the festival, which made sense based on how much of a community-built event this was supposed to be. 

Might as well start here. Ryan tucked the pamphlet away and turned, stepping up to the first vendor he saw. 

Various period-agnostic pieces of armor and filed-down weapons sat across tables and custom-built wooden shelves, providing the air of a blacksmith, perched atop a tablecloth likely purchased at a HomeGoods. A basket full of whittled walking sticks sat off to one side. Behind the tables, in the shade provided by a canopy poorly disguised as a storefront, a somewhat mousey man sat and squinted out into the sunlight (not to mention the light reflecting off of Ryan’s armor), dressed in a brownish tunic and coarse pants to give a sort of peasant-y vibe. A small name tag affixed to the tunic read Phil. He stood as Ryan approached and gave a wan smile. 

“Welcome, Sire Knight!” he called, loud enough to be heard over the din. “I’ve wares to sell, should they be of interest to ye of noble ilk. Or nay, is it a quest ye seek?” 

Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it before responding. That was more in character than he’d expected; he had some decent practice with voicework, but being put on the spot with an unpracticed tone was still difficult. “Ah. I seek to… browse. Good sir Phil,” he added hastily. 

Phil nodded. His smile seemed to be propped against the side of his jaw, as if it were leaning on a wall. “Certainly. Rianne’s blessings to you, then, Knight.” 

Ryan let silence fall for a moment, examining a dagger with a leather wrapped hilt. “Uh.” He coughed awkwardly. “If one… were to be seeking a quest, what would that entail?” 

Phil, who had been moving to sit back down in his fold-out camp chair, straightened. “Aha! As the gods will it, so it be done, a Knight hath been sent to help!” 

“Yes,” Ryan said, shuffling from one foot to the other. “And that help is?” 

Phil’s grand presentation deflated slightly. “Why, only the quest of a lifetime? Rianne’s request, an epic journey only the bravest could hope to complete?” When Ryan only gave an apologetic shrug, he let out a disgruntled sigh. “The one on page four of the festival pamphlet and on the website when you scan the QR code on your ticket? That quest?” 

“I got stuck on the map,” Ryan joked half-heartedly. 

Phil groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, doth the great knight feel inclined to consult page four of the festival pamphlet to receive his divine request from the goddess of the harvest, or would he prefer to browse some more?” 

“Would you mind giving a condensed version?” Ryan asked, hopeful. That elf at the ticket booth had said to ask an actor, after all. 

Phil threw a longsuffering sigh upwards (which, Ryan thought, seems kinda uncalled for, all things considered). “It really would be much easier if you just read it.” 

“C’mon, I prefer acting anyway!” 

“And I prefer when knights arrive ready to act,” Phil retorted. 

Ryan folded his arms. “Aren’t renaissance fairs all about acting and improvisation?” He was feeling more and more put out by this being his first real interaction, after all the hype. 

“First of all, it’s the Harvest Renaissance Fair,” Phil corrected, holding up a finger, “and second, I’ve had no less than sixteen tinfoil knights come through here with their dashing looks and ask me to read three paragraphs to them, and I’m getting real sick of it.” 

At this point, Phil was looking quite worked up, and it seemed obvious there was no getting through to him. Ryan held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, listen, I—”

“No, you listen,” Phil growled, cutting Ryan off. “I’m clocking out. If you’re so interested in toying with precise narrative structure, then why don’t you try writing it yourself and see how much you like it? As the gods will it! Or god, in this case.” The man snapped his fingers and made a rude gesture in Ryan’s direction. It was his turn to grunt in frustration as Phil turned away after the frankly very confusing comment.

“Would you just wait one—” Ryan stopped himself and sighed. Whatever. It’s just one sourpuss. Don’t let it ruin the day. “Whatever. May your Harvest be merry, Sir Phil.” 

Ryan furrowed his brow. “Excuse me. May the long nights bring light against fell dark.” 

What. The hell. Something was wrong. He’d been trying to give Phil a few strong words, and perhaps an expletive or two, but the words came out… wrong. Obviously, that was not in fact what he’d said, twice. If it happened once he could chalk it up to distraction, but this was concerning. For his part, Phil just waved a dismissive hand from the back of his stall behind a large tote and said ‘bah!’

Ryan’s head felt… tight. Like his mind was pressing up against the inside of his skull, straining against the bone. He bent over, grabbing the edge of the table. With his head hanging low, he was able to watch as the sun flickered across his hands with an almost incandescent blue light, and with a series of small pops, claws erupted from each fingernail, poking into the fabric of the tablecloth. 

Okay. Revision. Something isn’t wrong, something is seriously wrong. Ryan stumbled backwards, yanking his hands up to his face. Of course, embedded in the fabric as they were, the entire tablecloth came with them. With an enormous clatter, the weapons were unceremoniously tossed against each other and to the floor, crashing together all the way. Ryan couldn’t even attempt to help; the tablecloth was already tangling up his arms, hands balled up into the mass.

It must have just gotten caught on my sleeve. The claws had to have been some trick of the light off his armor. Tin foil was reflective, after all. Of course, he couldn’t actually check until this stupid fabric was taken care of. Unfortunately, each flex only swept more and more of it into the action, wrapping him up in layer after layer of fabric. He tossed one corner over a shoulder to keep track of it and somehow it managed to tangle up his whole arm. A series of knots almost cartoonish in their complexity were forming, and he seemed to be at their mercy. Several passersby were starting to stop and gawk, and Ryan could feel himself sweating as he struggled. 

Finally, he hit a sweet spot and felt the fabric start to slide after tossing multiple layers of it over his shoulder. He took full advantage and yanked, the knots unraveling themselves like magic one after the other, hands finally, thankfully, sliding free. Ryan tossed his arms up into the air with a shout of triumph, not even bothering to check and discover that not only were they clawed, they were also blue. This was also the exact moment his chest decided to acquire a new look and promptly exploded outwards.

Ryan stared down in shock. He was used to being able to see his feet; this was distinctly not possible anymore. He found himself tipping forwards, and his arms pinwheeled wildly, trying to step forwards and catch himself. A numb tingling flashed across both legs, and they suddenly erupted into thick blue skin, pants straining. This did nothing to help steady him. He opened his mouth to yell, feeling like he was moving in slow motion, and it opened instead as a muzzle, pushed outwards and fused with his nose into one long snout, the yell emerging as a roar. 

Just before he ate it, there was one final shhhRRRIP! from behind Ryan. He felt more than heard as his tailbone dropped the ‘bone’ suffix and became a full-on tail, the weight counterbalancing him. As if he was on a hinge, he swung back upwards. The tail impacted the ground with a dry smack, and Ryan was left standing stock straight, arms by his side, legs pointed inwards from their failed attempts to save him. With two belated flaps, a pair of wings unfolded from his back. 

Around him, the crowd burst into applause. 

This was so unexpected as to shock Ryan straight out of his stupor. His hands immediately flew to his face, finding a snout, horns poking out from his nose, his cheeks, his head, a pair of whiskers drooping down from either cheek. It only took a cursory glance to determine that the rest of him was similarly lizardlike. His entire knight’s armor had up and vanished; in its place was the tablecloth, tied across his shoulder and draped over his frame like a dress. A belt decorated with hanging jewels cinched it at the waist, and he was barefoot, though there were two large paws rather than actual feet, now. He was covered in vibrant blue scales from head to toe, but the ones across his neck and the front of his body were a hazy golden yellow instead, continuing on down the base of the tail that swayed behind him. He caught a glimpse in a polished shield and saw an unfamiliar reflection of a reptilian face that boasted yellow stripes across the snout, too. 

Okay. Take stock. What can you actually do here? Ryan’s mind raced. She had to get out of there, find somewhere private to figure all this out. A change like this was bad enough; in public, it was one of her worst nightmares. The insane dragon body was the biggest factor, obviously. The new clothing was embarrassingly scant compared to a full suit of armor, but functional. She….

Oh. Wait. Okay, point three: Ryan was now most certainly a girl, and somehow the pronoun reference in her own head had already shifted. Disconcerting to think about directly, but it seemed fine to leave it alone, so she let that one slide for a bit. Not like she could pass as a man right now anyway. 

Last thing: the crowd. She needed a way through. Ryan raised a hand, and the voices all died down to a murmur. She opened her mouth to politely yell at least one expletive and several panicked requests for people to please get out of the way now. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” The raised hand became a wave as a feminine voice cut the silence from deep in her own throat. Ryan swallowed hard. Again. This time, she pictured the words before speaking them. Please get the HELL out of my way. Just eight words. 

“Please, refrain from praising a humble goddess, citizens!” Wrong eight words. Ryan felt himself withering inside. This was out of control. 

Someone stepped forward from the crowd, an elf with a badge that read ‘Nurse,’ looking concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Rianne?” 

It’s Ryan, she tried to say. It didn’t work. “Your care lifts an immortal soul,” was what came out instead. “But Her Lady of the Harvest is well. ‘Twas naught but a minor altercation with a disagreeable sword!” Rianne—Ryan—let out a hearty laugh. Inside, she was yelling. She couldn’t stop herself from going along with this. 

Maybe… maybe she had to play along. That made about as much sense as the rest of this. She chose her words carefully this time. “Though… if thou insists, take all pains to assuage your doubts as to my safety,” she said, holding out an arm. That was as far as she managed to push it towards Please give me an x-ray and tell me I’m just in some kind of nightmare bodysuit. 

The elf reached out and grasped her arm confidently. The moment the nurse made contact, though, she froze. Her gaze connected with Ryan’s, and she could tell that the nurse knew that this wasn’t any kind of improv. That was real, bonafide dragon flesh. A strange haze passed over her eyes, and she stepped back before Ryan could do anything. 

“Our Lady Rianne is perfectly healthy!” she declared to a flurry of applause. Ryan tried to reach for her, but she vanished into the crowd, whispering into the ear of some kind of half-demon fellow whose arm she grabbed along the way. There went that lifeline. 

Rianne. That wasn’t a mispronunciation of her name; that was the name of the Goddess of the Harvest that Phil had mentioned. The one who was supposedly giving out quests and making requests of brave adherents, and who ruled over the entire festival, granting blessings of bountiful harvests and community bonding. That was…

Oh, gods, that was her. Ryan had somehow become Rianne, and now she couldn’t stop talking like a goddess. She couldn’t fathom the reasons behind it, but that must have been why she sounded like a bad reenactment of the legend of Saint George. 

The worst part was, that almost certainly meant that she was stuck here. The goddess of the festival couldn’t very well leave. Even if she tried there was probably some kind of contrived method of keeping her put. She was well and truly screwed. 

Although. Although. A thought surfaced that made her flush. This crowd… they were focused on her, yes, but it was positive attention. Clearly the goddess of the fair—one whom they all must assume she was some kind of mascot representing—would be popular, especially among those undertaking her quests. So, if she was so popular… 

…what was keeping her from enjoying the fair like this, anyway?

Okay, listen up. “My dear merrymakers!” Okay, that one was better than her original thought. “Let not one accident cause you grief. It is a day of joy! Please, continue the festivities!” Her mind raced, trying to come up with something she could say that would get interpreted in a favorable way by her new rules. “Worship comes in many forms, and today that form is togetherness. So please, show Her Lady how you can bring this community together first-hand!” 

A last round of cheers, and the crowd began to disperse—all but a loyal sect clamoring for attention. Rianne did a mental fist pump as one stepped forwards, pointing down the row of vendors, towards the stage. Maybe this would be fun after all. 

~~~~~

Tessa the elven nurse dragged her friend, Anthony, through the crowd. Her vision was sharp, the colors bright. By the time she finally stopped, Anthony had gone from laughing and plucking at her grip to worried. He came to a halt and looked down at his shorter friend. 

“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked, the demonic costume creating a humorous contrast to the caring question. 

“Rianne,” Tessa hissed, pointing towards the dragon. What she’d thought was just an actor. 

“Yeah, we get a goddess every year,” Anthony replied. “Is there something wrong? Did she actually get hurt?” 

“No!” Tessa almost wanted to scream. “Dude. Look closer. She’s real.” 

Anthony cocked an eyebrow. “Did you get hurt?” 

“Anthony!” 

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll look!” He turned away from his friend, who raked a hand through her hair. She felt like her skin was on fire. This was… it was good, actually. Her blood was electric. At first she’d thought it was a fever; now she recognized it for what it was. She was filled with belief.

She watched Anthony’s face. Saw the skepticism melt into shock. “Hooooly shit,” he breathed. 

“This is insane.” 

“I know,” Anthony said, reaching for his phone. “I have got to tell the guys.” 

~~~~~

Rianne had no way of knowing that as she was paraded through the festival grounds, word of her divinity was spreading through the fair, and it was spreading fast. The next hour went by in a blur. She blessed vendors, received offerings, gave a toast, she had officiated a real ass wedding. Her head swam. Her paws buzzed with power. Whatever Phil had been on about was nonsense; ‘writing the narrative’ felt intoxicating. What she really needed, though, was a break. 

Sadly, breaks were not an option, as just then she found herself being introduced to the festival organizer, who was vigorously shaking her paw and bowing their head in supplication. 

“Now, Rianne, could you watch over our most cherished tournament, the Fall Joust?” The organizer flashed a grin full of fake teeth to the crowd. Suck up, she scoffed. Rianne had plans, anyway. Definitely not. 

“Nothing could please me more!” she crooned. Great. Her goddess side had other plans. So it was that she found herself sat on an actual, real-life throne in the center of the covered wooden platform that lined the side of the jousting arena, the organizer on her left, a recently-crowned King Of The Festival on her right, who had earned the title by winning a costume party. It felt small; her horns scratched the ceiling of the room. Had she grown taller? Her scales felt itchy, even in the shade. Something felt… off. A paw brushed the side of her buxom chest, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from making noise. Every part of her body was acting up all at once, and she was not keen on sitting through multiple jousting matches. 

The viral spread of belief had, by this point, reached its tendrils throughout every part of the fair. It wasn’t quite dominant, not yet, but it was approaching a critical point—one strong enough that Rianne was able to detect it. There was a taste in the air that her godly form translated into the ambrosia of belief, and lots of it. 

An announcer droned on from a box somewhere at the end of the field. Conversations continued on either side of her. Rianne heard none of it. She folded her arms over her stomach and tried to keep from hurling as she rubbed against her own sensitive skin. 

“...for their contributions to the fair. And lastly, we have one last guest to thank.” A bit of the announcer’s tone crept through into Rianne’s ears. “The one to whom this festival is dedicated. Our… hm?” Feedback came through the mic as it was suddenly covered due to commotion in the announcer’s booth. When he spoke again, moments later, there was true reverence in his voice. “Our immortal goddess, Lady Rianne of the Harvest! Please, everyone, put your hands together for the first TRUE appearance of the Goddess herself!” 

Oh, God.

Rianne’s body could no longer take it. She fell forwards from her chair, stumbling out into the jousting arena on all fours as she quite literally doubled in size, body stretching to a full fifteen feet long. As waves of shock and understanding rippled through the largest crowd the festival had to offer, the belief in Rianne grew stronger and stronger, and she grew right alongside it. Paws rubbed along scales uncontrollably as she erupted like a glorious, godly volcano, dwarfing first the attendees, then her own previous size, then the arena itself. It was only once she tried to stand, head now poking at least twenty feet above the roof of the covered seating, that she had the presence of mind to yank her (miraculously growing) dress down and snap her legs together to try to keep from flashing the crowd, face turning a brilliant shade of maroon in the process. She managed to only knock over a couple of wooden fence supports as she wobbled out of the arena, one paw tucked between her legs, the other held tight over her chest. 

“B-blessed Harvest!” she cried out, trying to smile and failing to fully remove the flustered expression from her face. She needed out of there fast, and at this size, there was no one able to stop her. “Your grace is EXTREMELY well received! P-please calm your prayers, lest Her Lady expose… f-frighten you all with her godly form! And rest assured she will return, year after year, to ensure Her will be respected and celebrated!” As she spoke, some of the energy crackling across her form was sapped out, and she felt the words cement themselves into reality. She would be back. Rianne’s stomach dropped like a rock. This was going to happen again. Year after year, she’d be back here, transformed into a dragoness once again to celebrate the harvest. She snapped her jaw closed before she could damn herself any more.

The entire festival could see her, now, and they all erupted into raucous applause and cheers. Rianne choked out one final “Happy Harvest!” before turning tail and running, the glimpses of her rear through the slitted dress as purple as the cheeks up above, each softly embedded paw print in the landscape bigger than the last as she dashed off to find a couple buildings to hide herself behind. The only thing that the goddess could think of that embarrassed her more than accidentally flashing a festival of supplicants was that, deep down, she knew that she was excited for next year’s Harvest. 

[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

[girlactionfigure]

🟠 TUESDAY mid-day - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( DOTS: blue - Iran war news.  red - Gaza & Hezbollah active war news.  black - general Israel news. yellow - hostage deal news )

▪️TERROR - STABBING - JERUSALEM TUNNEL CHECKPOINT.. stabbing at the Jerusalem tunnel checkpoint. Terrorist eliminated, one 20-year old woman soldier stabbed with a screwdriver.

▪️STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, ISRAEL EDITION.. A food distribution center was opened in Khan Yunis, Gaza named after the extreme left activist Vivian Silver who was brutally murdered in Kibbutz Be’eri by Gazans on Oct 7 and her body was mutilated beyond recognition.  Silver's son wrote today: “I would rather have my mother's name help the children of Gaza than be emblazoned on a missile that kills them.”

▪️PROTEST vs COUNTER PROTEST.. clashes at the ultra-Orthodox demonstration at the Tel HaShomer recruiting office - "Mothers on the Front" came to Tel Hashomer to call on the ultra-Orthodox to enlist.

♦️Air Force aircraft attacked armed terrorist squads in two separate attacks a short time ago during an operation by the security forces in Jenin, Samaria.  8 terrorists eliminated.

♦️Aid battle?  Terrorists fired an RPG at IDF forces in East Rafah, as a result the humanitarian axis was closed to traffic.

♦️South Lebanon: Lebanese channels report casualties in an IDF attack in the village of Mayfadoun in the Nabatieh region.

⭕ HEZBOLLAH DRONE BARRAGE.. northern coastal towns, Nahariya and Acre.  HITS - Severely wounded and moderately wounded by Hezbollah fire on Mazra’a, hit into a home - drone in the dining room (fire), hit to a vehicle.  Hit to the Sharaga base. 5 enemy drones.

🔹The US & UK air force bases in Cyprus are in increased operational activity.

🔹Preparation for SENIORS - Min. Of Welfare hotline dial 118

.. When alert situation increase, stay near protected space.

.. Make sure the path to protected space is clear and wide enough (for cane or wheelchair).

.. Have a copy of medical information on paper (condition, medicine, etc).

.. Stock up at least 10 days of medication.

.. Make sure hearing aids, glasses, walking stick are all kept close at hand.

.. If using medical equipment that requires electricity, have backup batteries or a generator. (Contact Yad Sarah, Ezras Achim or MDA.)

.. Walker?  Get a mounted flashlight!

.. Family members should have a key.

.. Set Red Alert apps for audible alert, flashing-visual alert, and vibration alert.

[detroitlib]

View of two illustrations for an advertisement of a 1932 Hudson car. One drawing depicts a hand turning a key to start the car; the second drawing depicts a woman's foot reaching for the starter on the vehicle floor. Handwritten on back: "Jan. 7/32. Copy negative of line drawings showing hand about to turn Startix key and foot reaching for old style starter."

Courtesy of the National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library