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inkyquillstories · 19 days ago

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Interstate Interchange (A Body Swap Story)

Note: This story has an nsfw version found on my discord server. If you’d like to see my other stories in its raw (NSFW) form with more photos/videos, you can join here: https://discord.gg/mMY9wSu4rS

Interstate Interchange

The sun had long dipped behind the treeline when the interstate stretched out into a ribbon of pure twilight. The highway shimmered under the weight of a thousand forgotten stories, and two cars miles apart, yet destined, kept pace in the same lane, bound for the same nameless destination.

One was a black Chevy, polished clean, with smooth tires and leather seats that clung to the driver’s trim waist like a second skin. Inside sat Joey, a handsome college senior with an athletic frame, weekend stubble lining his sharp jaw, and a look of effortless superiority. He drove one-handed, his fingers tapping the wheel to an EDM playlist, confident in every motion.

The other, an aging silver Corolla, sagged under the weight of its driver. Eric, large and soft in all the wrong ways, hunched over the wheel, his belly brushing the dashboard, his fingers leaving grease on the touch screen. A neckbeard crept like ivy around his jawline, and his glasses constantly slid down his sweaty nose.

They saw each other on the road. Not right away. That came later.

At first, it was nothing. Just two drivers passing on the highway, glimpses caught in side mirrors and reflected in gas station glass. But hours passed. Towns vanished in the rearview. Rest stops came and went. And somehow, neither car left the other's orbit.

Joey noticed first. He glanced to his left while cruising at 73 and saw that overweight guy again. Same university parking tag on the dash. Same direction. Same tired stare. Joey scoffed to himself but couldn’t look away. The guy looked soggy, like melted clay crammed into clothes two sizes too small.

But something about the man stuck with him.

He wondered, uncomfortably at first, what does it feel like to carry that much weight? How does it feel to live with a body that sags, sweats, presses against itself constantly? What does he see when he looks at someone like me?

Joey adjusted his seat, suddenly aware of his toned thighs in basketball shorts, the cool air drying sweat along his firm chest. His armpit hair tickled lightly with the breeze of the AC. He caught his own reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked strong, clean, and desirable. He exhaled, and a strange guilt bloomed in his chest. Or was it curiosity?

Eric felt it too. Even through his blurry vision, he’d clocked the black Chevy early on. The guy was like a Greek statue in motion. He had angular arms draped across the wheel, tight shirt clinging to his chest, that stubble framing a face that belonged on a billboard.

Eric should’ve ignored him. Should’ve looked away. But something about that smoothness, that effortlessness. How would it feel to walk into a room and not disappear? To smell like cologne and sun-warmed skin instead of sweat and shame?

He looked down at his stained t-shirt, clinging damply to his chest. His belly peeked out when he shifted in his seat. He could smell himself and it was sour and earthy. What would it be like… to be that fit driver?

As the evening thickened into night, something unspoken passed between the two cars. Like a magnetic pull. They both signaled at the same exit, pulled into the same gravel pit rest area, and parked just one spot apart. The air outside was heavy with humidity, and for a moment, neither man moved.

Joey stepped out of his car first, his muscles tight from the long drive. He arched his back, stretching until his shirt lifted enough to expose the pale ridge of his obliques, a faint line of sweat clinging to his skin. The light of the rest stop flickered above him, buzzing like an insect on its last legs.

Eric watched from the pump, barely breathing.

Joey turned and for the first time, they locked eyes. Really locked eyes. The world seemed to shift, as if the axis of the Earth had realigned to run through this gas station outside of nowhere.

Joey gave a crooked half-smile. “Hey. You go to Minton U too?”

Eric swallowed. “Yeah. I, uh… recognized the tag on your bumper. Been behind you for a while.”

Joey tilted his head, frowning like he was working through a dream. “Yeah… I noticed that. Thought it was weird, y’know? But not bad weird. More like… meant-to-be weird.”

Eric’s pulse beat against his throat. “What do you mean?”

Joey scratched the back of his neck, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t know, man. It’s like… I kept catching glimpses of you in the rearview, and I couldn’t look away. Like I was supposed to see you. Like… I was supposed to be you.”

Eric’s breath caught in his throat. He stepped closer, every nerve raw. “I kept thinking the same thing.”

Joey blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Eric’s voice cracked. “All day. I kept imagining myself in your skin. Your face. Your body. Your life.”

Joey’s lips parted, but he didn’t laugh. Neither of them did. The night thickened, the hum of cicadas rising like static in a dream.

“I was ashamed to admit it, even to myself,” Eric confessed. “But there was this… itch. In my brain. In my body. Like the only way to make it stop was to know what it’s like to live inside you.”

Joey looked away, chest rising and falling. “I was ashamed too. But it also… turned me on. Like, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wearing your shirt. Smelling your sweat. Saying your name and making it mine.”

Eric whispered, “Me too.”

They stood in silence, everything unspoken stretching between them like a rubber band pulled to its limit.

Then Eric spoke again, low and deliberate. “I have a proposal. But it’s a little crazy”

Joey didn’t hesitate. “Say it.”

Eric gestured toward the restroom. “Let’s swap. Clothes. Cars. Everything. Just for tonight. Let’s see how it goes.”

Joey’s eyes gleamed with something hungry. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The bathroom door clicked shut behind them, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. Eric shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his oversized shirt swallowing him whole. He could feel the seams of the fabric straining against his body, the heat of the small space making his skin prickle. Joey leaned casually against the sink, his fitted shirt stretching across the firm contours of his chest.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence thick with something unspoken.

“So…” Joey started, his voice low and smooth. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning Eric’s frame with an intensity that made Eric’s stomach flip.

“So,” Eric echoed, his voice shaky. He pulled at his shirt, trying to ease the tightness around his midsection. “You really want to do this?”

Joey didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the sink and took a step closer, his presence filling the room. His eyes lingered on Eric’s face, then dropped to his body, taking in every curve, every fold. There was something in his gaze, a curiosity, maybe, or something deeper. Something Eric couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Joey said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to do this. Don’t you?”

Eric swallowed hard. Did he? He’d fantasized about it all day. What it would be like to step into Joey’s body, to feel the confidence that radiated from him, to know what it was like to be wanted. But now that the moment was here, his heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat.

“I… yeah,” Eric stammered. “I do.”

Joey’s lips curved into a small smile, and he reached for the hem of his shirt. Eric’s breath hitched as Joey slowly pulled it up, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen, the sharp lines of his chest. The fabric slipped over his head, and Joey tossed it aside, his bare skin gleaming under the harsh light.

Eric couldn’t look away. His eyes traced every inch of Joey’s body, from the broad shoulders to the defined arms, the firm chest, the narrow waist. It was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamed of. And it was right there, just within reach.

Joey gave a nervous laugh, breaking the charge in the air. “This is fucking insane.”

Eric nodded, eyes glued to the curve of Joey’s torso. “Insane, yeah. But…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

They reached for each other’s shirts. Eric gripped Joey’s shirt, still warm from his skin, and pulled it over his head, shuddering as the musk hit his nose. It smelled of salt and sun and something distinctly male. Joey slid into Eric’s huge tee, the fabric foreign and thrilling against his skin.

Then came the pants.

Joey dropped his gym shorts to the tile floor, revealing strong thighs, sinewy and tan, with a bulge that made Eric momentarily forget to breathe. He wasn’t trying to show off. It just was.

Eric fumbled with his belt, then pushed his jeans down slowly, revealing boxer briefs stretched over a soft, pale belly, his legs thicker. The air buzzed between them, and for a long, silent beat, they stood like that, half-dressed, gazing openly.

Joey’s lips curled into a sly smile, and without another word, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down slowly, deliberately.

The fabric caught on his hips for a moment before finally giving way, revealing the hard length of his cock, already half-hard and twitching against his thigh. Eric’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he took in the sight. It was huge, thicker than he’d imagined, the vein running along the underside making it look even more imposing.

Joey let out a low chuckle, his voice teasing. “What? Not what you expected?”

Eric couldn’t find the words. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Instead, his hands moved on their own, trembling as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the warm, smooth skin. Joey groaned softly at the touch, his hips bucking forward slightly, seeking more contact. Eric’s fingers wrapped around the base, his grip tentative, unsure. He couldn’t believe he was touching Joey like this, that he was allowed to touch him like this. His heart raced, and he felt a rush of heat spread through his body.

Joey’s hands were already moving, sliding Eric’s boxers down his hips, his touch firm but gentle. Eric froze, his cheeks flushing as the cool air hit his exposed skin. Joey’s eyes roamed over his body, his gaze hungry, taking in every detail. Eric’s cock was small, almost shy, nestled in a thatch of dark hair. Joey’s lips parted, a soft exhale escaping him as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft skin.

Eric’s breath caught as he took in the sight of Joey’s body, his eyes tracing every line, every muscle. Joey’s skin was smooth, his body toned and firm. It was everything Eric had ever wanted, and it was right there, just within reach.

Joey’s eyes roamed over Eric’s body, his expression filled with something Eric couldn’t quite place. “You’re beautiful,” Joey said again, his voice filled with awe.

They swapped boxers. Eric brought Joey’s to his face and inhaled, eyes fluttering shut. The scent was intoxicating with sweat, soap, and something raw. Joey did the same with Eric’s, lips parting slightly.

Then pants. Then socks. Then shoes. Every item peeled off or slipped on with attention, with longing. They watched how the fabrics clung differently, how they sat on unfamiliar hips.

Joey slid Eric’s glasses over his face, blinking. “Shit,” he whispered. “I feel like I’m becoming you.”

Eric was holding Joey’s ID, thumbing over the name. “This is so hot,” he murmured, slipping it into his wallet. “I want to be you. Not just wear you.”

They passed phones, wallets, keys. With every exchange, they whispered their new names aloud, again and again. Joey, now calling himself Eric, stared down at the cracked phone he’d inherited. Eric, now calling himself Joey, held Joey’s sleek one like a holy relic.

“This is real,” Joey as Eric said, voice trembling with awe. “We’re actually doing this.”

Eric as Joey grinned, boyish and unashamed. “And it feels amazing.”

Joey as Eric ran his hand slowly down the front of his new shirt, Eric’s shirt, feeling the tightness across a softer body. “Guess I should start answering to ‘Eric.’”

Eric as Joey adjusted the waistband of Joey’s shorts on his rounder hips and looked in the mirror, breath catching. “And I should start answering to Joey now. Holy shit. God, this feels right.”

Outside, the air was cooler. Fresher. The night wind carried their new scents, their new identities.

Joey raised a hand. “Later, Joey.”

Eric grinned. “See you around, Eric.”

They got into each other’s cars and drove back to the highway, their old selves left behind under the hum of that flickering light.

As the highway swallowed them again, the lines on the road seemed to bend. Joey drove the wheezing Corolla, sweat pooling in new places like beneath his gut, between his thighs. He breathed heavier. Felt every jolt in his spine. The air smelled different. He caught himself muttering, “I’m Eric,” over and over, his fingers sticky on the wheel. Meanwhile, Eric drove the Chevy like it was a chariot. His fingers flexed over the leather. He took off his shirt imagining he has abs and muscles even though in reality he was overtly obese.

After another two hours of night driving, the highway began to blur. Street signs smeared like watercolor in their headlights, and exhaustion hummed behind their eyes. The Blue Swallow Motel buzzed under a dying neon sign, flickering like a broken pulse against the night sky. Gravel crunched under tires as both cars rolled in at the same time, headlights dimming, engines silencing. The silence between the two men was charged, thick, and electric. They exited simultaneously, each carrying a duffel bag that didn’t belong to them.

The motel lobby was stale and yellow-lit, walls lined with faded pamphlets and a dusty ficus. Behind the desk, a clerk in a tan vest nursed lukewarm coffee, eyes narrowing as the two men stepped in.

Joey, presenting as Eric, approached first and slid an ID and credit card onto the counter. “One room. Name’s Eric Lard.”

The clerk picked up the ID: an overweight man with thick glasses. He looked at Joey. What he saw was a lean, sharp-jawed, handsome man. The resemblance was... off. He glanced at the man waiting behind him, who looked more like the guy on the card.

“This you?” the clerk asked.

Joey nodded. “Yep.”

“You’re... Eric Lard? You drop 200 pounds overnight?”

Joey smiled thinly. “Something like that.”

The second man stepped up. “I’ll take a room too. Joey Stoll.”

The clerk looked at the next ID. He saw a young, fit, confident man. He stared at the man before him: rounder face, tight shirt, greasy hair.

“You’re this guy?” the clerk asked.

Eric nodded. “Stress eating. Finals.”

The clerk looked between them, frowning. “You sure you didn’t just swap IDs?”

Joey leaned on the counter. “Nope. I’m Eric. He’s Joey.”

“Right,” the clerk muttered. “And pigs fly.”

Eric gave a low chuckle. “Why would I want to be a fatass like Eric Lard?” He lifted his shirt slightly, belly peeking out, pretending it was flat and tight.

Joey smirked. “What do you think this is? Freaky Friday?”

“Body swapping isn’t real,” Eric added.

The clerk narrowed his eyes, but finally relented. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Alright then. Mr. Lard, Room 12. Mr. Stoll, Room 14,” he said, eyeing them both one more time. “Whatever game this is, you win. Enjoy your stay.”

And as they walked the hallway in opposite directions, bags in hand, bags that didn’t match their bodies, but matched their names, neither could stop thinking about the exchange. About being called Eric Lard. About being called Joey Stoll. About being seen and spoken to as the other man. It was intoxicating.

In their separate motel rooms, they stripped naked, slowly, deliberately like shedding old skin. The clothes they’d worn didn’t quite fit the bodies they had literally… but somehow, they fit them figuratively. Clothes that whispered of who they wanted to be.

They stepped into their showers. Two rooms apart, but moving like mirrors. Steam billowed. Water ran hot, cascading over skin that felt like it wasn't their own.

Joey stood under the stream, hands gliding over his chest, his abs. He let his eyes close. He imagined thicker arms. A rounder chest. Softer belly. A fuller face. Hair slicked down on a broader scalp. He imagined his body becoming Eric’s. And in that moment, he didn’t just picture it, he almost felt it.

Meanwhile, Eric dragged soap along his huge belly, jaw clenching as he stared at the fogged mirror. He imagined a flat stomach. Cut hips. Narrow waist. Hair that stayed in place without effort. A cock that matched a tighter, fitter frame. He imagined being Joey. And he could almost feel it. The difference. The shift. The desire. It made him stroke himself slowly, reverently, like he was Joey already.

After the water cooled and their skin prickled with heat, they pulled on each other’s clothes. Joey buttoned Eric’s shirt over his own chest with something like reverence. Eric tugged on Joey’s tighter jeans, savoring how they hugged differently now.

After the shower, they slept. And in their dreams, they found each other.

Joey appeared as a glowing blue figure. He still looked muscular.

Eric shimmered in soft purplish pink, round and heavy. They stood in a hazy, neon-lit void with no floor, no walls. Just them, suspended in color and longing.

Joey’s voice trembled. “I wish I could really be you.” Eric reached out, fingertips brushing Joey’s glowing jaw. “I want your life. Your face. Your body.”

The space between them rippled. Light twisted.

Joey’s blue form warped, softened, and swelled until he stood wide and round like Eric, but still tinted blue.

Across from him, Eric’s pink shape pulled tighter, straighter, and more muscular. Then his hands pressed against a firmer chest and stomach, eyes gleaming with awe.

They looked at each other. They were transformed yet glowing in their original colors and smiled.

And then, everything went dark.

They woke in the same bed and the same motel room they slept in that night.

Joey was heavy now. Belly rising and falling with his breath. The waistband of Eric’s old sweatpants fit perfectly. And Eric, he sat up fast, heart pounding, chest tight. He looked down at the flat plane of his stomach, the firm tension in his thighs beneath Joey’s jeans. He pressed his palm against his own abs, wide-eyed.

They ran outside their rooms and looked at each other.

And they knew. They had swapped. Really. Fully. Irrevocably.

Joey, now Eric, let out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit.”

Eric, now Joey, grinned, running a hand through his hair. “It worked.”

They dressed quickly. Every article of clothing fit perfectly. Shoes, socks, even the tension of a belt against the waist. It was seamless. Fated.

By midmorning, they were already on the road, driving to each other’s homes.

Joey, in Eric’s heavier body, gripped the steering wheel with confident hands, windows down, wind blowing through borrowed hair.

Eric, in Joey’s fit body, couldn’t stop smiling in the rearview mirror, his reflection showing him a future he’d only dared dream about.

Two men. Two cars. Two swapped souls. One interstate interchange.

The End.

#inkyquill #male body swap

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stochastique-blog · 1 year ago

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shelbgrey · 7 hours ago

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hi! i just saw ur post about twilight request i was wondering if you could maybe do a jasper or edward one about him falling in love with a human and they are each others first time and maybe reader accidentally gets pregnant if you’re fine with that!

Hypothetically speaking (Jasper Hale)

Paring: Jasper Hale x Human!Reader

Summary: after getting encouragement and a little sweet suduction, Jasper and his girl finally give into their passion. After that, it's like a switch. Jasper and her can't keep their hands off each other. But then the unexpected happens.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral(F receiving), soft sex, unplanned vampire pregnancy, blowjob tease, mentions of dark romance novels, dirty talk, Jasper being an absolute sweetheart.

MasterList ML2

Forks was never quiet, not really. Not with the rain tapping the windows like it had a secret to tell, or the wind slipping between the trees like it was chasing something. But tonight, the forest felt still—like it was holding its breath.

Y/n sat in the passenger seat of Jasper’s car with her legs crossed. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow across his profile - sharp jaw, golden eyes, that unreadable little smile he wore when he knew exactly what she was thinking but was too much of a gentleman to say it.

“you all right, darlin’?” Jasper asked in that smooth, honey-sweet Southern drawl, glancing over at you. His hand lightly rested on her knee, thumb brushing soft circles over the fabric of her jeans. Y/n bit her lip, cheeks flushing despite the cool air.

Y/n nodded, smiling. “I'm great” she said smoothly, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket that she'd somehow ended up wearing - she couldn't even form any words when he draped it over her shoulders. Jasper smiled like he’d let her steal anything she wanted, as long as it was his.

Jasper’s gaze roved over her form, lingering on the way his jacket hung off her curves, the sleeves falling way past her fingertips. He hummed, a low, amused sound.

“Careful,” he murmured, tilting his head as the car bumped over a pothole. His hand slid up her thigh, fingers drumming lightly against her curves. “Keep wearin’ my clothes and people’re gonna talk”

“What kinda talk?” she smirked, laying her head back against the headrest and turning her head towards Jasper with a crooked smile. “that the Cullens requited another innocent soul for their cult?” I joked. The people of Forks - especially the high school are full of conspiracists and quick to say the Cullens are strange.

He chuckled at that, that same low rumble that made her stomach twist. She could feel the chill of his palm through the fabric of her jeans, and his thumb brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“Innocent,” he repeated, his smirk making his golden eyes flash. “You, darlin’?"

The car slowed as it approached the Swan residence where y/n lived with her uncle Charlie, rain drumming softly against the windshield. Jasper's hand slid further up her thigh as he pulled into the gravel driveway.

“I'm as innocent as they come” innocent? Perhaps she was, in the eyes of God maybe - physically. Mentally innocent? Now that's a bit treacherous as she clutched her V-card and used it as a bookmark in those dirty Dark Romance books Jasper keeps cluelessly buying for, not having a clue what's going on within the pages. Virtues, maybe innocent, but far from clueless.

He laughed again, the sound rich and warm like bourbon. His fingers squeezed her thigh gently before he pulled into the driveway fully. The car idled there for a moment as Jasper turned to face her. The rain was heavier now, pattering against the roof like a thousand tiny fingers. “You know,” he started, intentionally trailing off. His golden eyes caught hers in the semi-darkness, the streetlight casting shadows across his angular jaw. “For someone so 'innocent', you sure spend an awful lot of time alone with dangerous vampires”

“Oh, but have you seen that vampire?” y/n teased, leaning over the center conceal slightly and inches herself closer. “he's too attractive and charming to ignore”

Jasper's smile widened at the teasing, his gaze never leaving hers. He leaned in too, bridging the gap between them. “And you think that makes him less dangerous?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Her grin grew wider, her eyes fluttering as her head tilted slightly as the gap got smaller. “he'd never hurt me” she mumbled, brushing her nose against his, there lips almost touching.

“Mm,” He hummed softly, their lips brushing again. “You have no idea how deadly a vampire can be,” He teased lightly, his fingers finding her hip bone. “I mean, what if one decided to-” y/n let out a squeek as she was pulled into his lap in a flash.

“-bite you right here,” he finished, his mouth hovering over the delicate curve of her neck. His hands gripped her hips possessively, pulling her back against his chest. “Or here,” He nipped at her collarbone playfully. “And you’d let him, wouldn’t you?”

She shuddered, her body melting towards him without a second thought. It took every ounce of Jasper's self-control not to claim her right then and there. His fangs ached, longing to pierce her perfect skin. He pressed a kiss to her neck, right where her pulse throbbed rapidly.

“Jasper” y/n breathed out his name like a plea, her fingers tangling in his hair. She tilted his head up towrds her. It was an invitation he couldn’t refuse. Jasper's eyes flashed with hunger and desire as he met her gaze. He didn't need any more encouragement. His lips crashed onto hers, fierce and passionate. One hand gripped her hip while the other tangled in her hair, deepening the kiss as if trying to consume her entirely.

The kiss was intense and overwhelming. Jasper's tongue pushed past her lips, exploring her mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperate. His fangs scraped gently against her bottom lip, a warning and a promise all at once. She tasted like heaven and sin combined, intoxicating him completely.

A small moan rumbled in her throat, to the human ear it was small enough the sound of the rain covered it. Jasper heard it all too clear. Y/n's hands brushed down his chest cautiously but daringly - like she was daring herself and him to finally take the leap, darling him to let himself ruin her. Her hands trailed lower, feeling his hard, cold abdomen under her touch. Then her fingers brushed the leather of his belt.

“Darlin'” Jasper's breath hitched as her fingers brushed the leather of his belt. He was rock hard, his vampire nature making him more sensitive than any human could imagine. The sound of the rain and her soft moans filled his ears, driving him wild with desire. But he wasn't gonna let them go over the edge. Not in his car, she was too precious to take something so valuable from her in a piece of metal on wheels.

He grabbed her wrists gently but firmly, pulling her hands away from his belt. “Not here, darlin',” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with restraint. He pressed his forehead against hers, trying to control himself.

“Jasper...” she started.

“Shh,” he placed a quick kiss on her lips, silencing her protest. His dark eyes bore into hers intently. “Listen to me, sugar. When I take you, and believe me baby, I'm going to take you - it's not gonna be in the backseat of my car”

“you're not afraid to touch me, are you?” she asked softly. The whole having sex with a vampire, it could go one or two ways.

Jasper's expression softened at her question. He cups her face gently, his thumb brushing over her soft cheek. “y/n, I'm terrified to touch you,” he admits quietly. “Not because I'm afraid you'll break, but because once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop”

“I trust you, Jasper”

Jasper's heart swells at her words. She trusts him, even though he's a vampire, even though he could so easily hurt her. It means the world to him. He leans in and kisses her softly, pouring all his emotions into it. When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with determination.

“so what if we hypothetically,” y/n started, her voice dropped to a whisper. She kissed his neck. “if we go to my room, the lights are off... We take each other's clothes off, and we get into my bed?”

Jasper's breath hitched. The image she's painting is incredibly tempting. His hands grip her hips gently as he pulls her flush against him. “Hypothetically speaking,” he murmurs against her lips, “I'd make love to you slowly and deep until you forget your own name”

“Hypothetically” she nodded, pressing her lips against his softly.

Jasper groans softly as her lips meet his. The softness, the innocence in her kiss is driving him insane. He bites back a growl and deepens the kiss slightly before pulling away. “If we go upstairs, darlin'” he warns her, his voice strained.

“I'm ready, Jas” y/n cut him off, whispering softly.

Jasper's resolve crumbles at her words. He gets her out of the car suddenly, lifting her into his arms bridal style. He carries her into the house and upstairs to her room, kicking the door shut behind them. He sets her down gently on the bed and turns off the lights as requested. The room went dark except the fairy lights that was stung around her room - the fairy lights he had hung up for her.

Y/n stood up, staring up at him with doe eyes as the space between them grew thinner. Jasper watches her closely. His heart pounds in his chest as she stares up at him like that. He steps closer until there's barely any space left between them. His hands reach up to cup her face gently before he leans down to kiss her again. She moans softly against his lips, reaching up and slowly started to unbutton his shirt.

Jasper freezes for a moment, his breath catching in his throat as her fingers brush against his bare skin. He helps her unbutton his shirt quickly before shrugging it off completely. His hands then go to her dress, slowly unzipping it. The dress drops to the floor with a soft puddle. He takes a moment to admire her beauty in the dim light. She's wearing a black lace bra and panties set that makes his mouth water. He slowly unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the ground.

Her fingers traced up his jaw and into his hair, she held the back of his head and brought him down to her height. Their lips moved together slowly, but passionately. She pulled away to take a breath, she stared into his golden eyes as she started to lower herself down on her knees.

"Don't you dare," he says firmly but gently, catching her chin before she can lower herself any further. His golden eyes meet hers intensely in the dark room. “if that's your first instinct, then you need to lay off the dark romance novels” He sits down on the bed, pulling her up to stand between his legs.

He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. He presses a soft kiss to her stomach before looking up at her with those golden eyes filled with love and desire. “You don't need to do that to make me want you, darlin', because trust me, I'm already losing my mind over every inch of you,” His hands trail slowly up her sides, making her shiver. “And you deserve better than that for your first time”

She shivered under his touch. He smirks slightly at her reaction, his hands moving to her hips as he pulls her closer against him. He stands up suddenly, lifting her into his arms again and laying her down gently on the bed. He climbs over her slowly, settling between her legs and capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

“are you gonna take your pants off?” she whispered against his lips as her fingers disappeared in his curls.

A crooked smile tuggs at his lips. “Yeah, Darlin' I will” he said said softly, kissing her again before reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He unbuttons his pants and pushes them down along with his boxers, kicking them off the bed. He watches her reaction closely. Her eyes darkened slightly as she bit her bottom lip innocently. He realizes that she has no idea how sexy she looks right now. His body tenses as her legs slightly spread wider apart, making him lose his mind slightly.

“isn't supposed hurt the first time?” y/n whispered softly.

He leans down to kiss her neck, his hands gently parting her thighs wider. “just a bit, especially if your aroused properly” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

Jasper trails kisses down her neck, chest, and stomach before settling between her thighs. He looks up at her with a soft smile before pressing a gentle kiss to her inner thigh. He starts to kiss and lick her softly there, preparing her body and trying to make the first time as comfortable as possible for her.

“Jasper” She moans breathlessly, gripping his hair in her hands.

"Mhm?" He hums against her core, his tongue licking slower and deeper, making her legs shake slightly. He realizes how innocent and inexperienced she is. She moans loudly when he finds a spot that drives her crazy. Her eyes roll back slightly at the overwhelming pleasure.

He smiles against her sensitive flesh, knowing exactly what he's doing to her. He continues his gentle assault with his tongue, wanting to make sure she's ready and wet enough for him before they go any further. He slips two fingers inside her slowly, making sure she feels only pleasure from this act.

“Oh, fuck” she moaned breathlessly, her head tilting back.

He chuckles softly, the vibration against her sensitive spot making her moan even louder. “You like that, Darlin'?” he asks, his fingers moving slowly in and out of her, his tongue never stopping its gentle assault. He can feel her tightening around his fingers, a sign that she's getting closer.

“Y-yes” she whimpered in pleasure.

“Good girl” He praises softly, curling his fingers slightly to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. He continues to work her with his fingers and tongue, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. He feels her legs start to shake uncontrollably, her hands gripping his hair tightly. He knows she's about to come undone on his tongue. He doubles his efforts, sucking and licking harder until she cries out his name, her entire body shaking with pleasure as she comes apart against his mouth.

Jasper slowly removes his fingers and kisses his way back up her stomach, chest, and neck before capturing her lips again. She can taste herself on him, and it makes her blush furiously. “Are you still okay, Darlin'” he whispers against her lips, his hardness pressing against her thigh.

She nodded quickly, her breath hitching. “Y-yeah, you?”

“y/n, I'm fucking perfect” Jasper says with a hungry smile. “But... you need to tell me if it's too much, okay?” he whispers, positioning himself at her entrance. He's trying to be gentle, but the fact that she's completely vulnerable beneath him is nearly driving him wild.

She nodded, Jasper grabed her chin gently, making their eyes meet. “use your words, Darlin'. I need to hear you say it”

“I will” y/n said softly.

He kisses her on the forehead softly before slowly pushing inside her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She lets out a soft gasp into his mouth, her nails digging into his back. He breaks the kiss to look into her eyes, holding himself still inside her. “Breathe, Sweetheart”

She nodded quickly, her heart pounding. After a moment she nodded. “I'm okay, you can move”

Jasper slowly pulls back and pushes back in, his movements controlled and gentle. He watches her face closely, making sure she's comfortable and not in pain. With each slow thrust, he goes a little deeper, stretching her slowly. He captures her lips in a soft kiss to distract her from any discomfort.

“J-jasper” she moaned desperately. “holy, shit”

He chuckles against her lips at her sudden expletives, loving that he can make her lose control like this. He starts moving a little faster and deeper now that he knows she can handle it without pain. Each thrust hits a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her legs shake around his waist. “You're doin' so good, Darlin'”

She moans louder, grabbing a fist full of his hair. “Damn,” Jasper growls, feeling her heat tighten around him and her passionate moans driving him crazy. He picks up the pace slightly, knowing exactly how to angle his hips to hit that sweet spot inside her that makes her gasp. “Is this too much, y/n?”

“N-no, your perfect” y/n stuttered, her breath shallow.

“y/n, you feel fucking incredible” he whispers, his muscles clenching as she tightens around him. He supports himself by gripping the headboard tightly tightly, the wood groaning under his supernatural grip as his free hand traces patterns on her bare skin.

Jasper watches her closely - her small breasts bouncing with each thrust, her cheeks flushed pink, her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo. She's like a damn goddess beneath him, making soft mewling noises that go straight to his dick. He realizes that he never thought he could be this gentle or this in control with a human before.

“Jasper, I think I'm close”

“I know, I can feel it,” he groans, his own release building rapidly. He leans down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking gently as he thrusts harder and faster. “Cum for me, Darling. You're doing so good”

“Jasper” Y/n comes apart beautifully - legs trembling violently, back arching off the bed as a loud moan escapes her lips. The feeling of her orgasm squeezing his cock pushes him over the edge instantly. With a deep groan against her neck, he thrusts hard one last time and releases inside her.

“Holy fuck” he whispers, collapsing gently on top of her, careful not to crush her. He can feel his cum steadily leaking out of her while she's still trembling from her orgasm. His lips find her neck as he catches his breath, gently kissing the sensitive skin there.

“Oh god, J-jasper” she moaned, working on catching her breath as she lazily dragged her fingers through his hair.

Jasper's hands gently caressing her sides. He loves how she's still touching him, like she doesn't want to let go just yet. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent mixed with their lovemaking. “Did I hurt you?” he asks softly, pressing gentle kisses to her neck. He knows he needs to pull out soon, but he's not ready to break this connection yet. His cock is still semi-hard inside her, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by her warmth.

“N-no, it was perfect” y/n said softly, smiling lazily as cupped both sides of his jaw.

“You're perfect,” he whispers back, nipping gently at her bottom lip. “A perfect fucking angel” He slowly pulls out, gentle enough not to cause any discomfort. Both of them make small noises at the sensation - hers a soft moan, his a satisfied rumble.

Jasper rolls off her slightly but keeps her close against his chest. His hand rests possessively on her hip while he studies her face with a soft expression. “We should clean up” he says reluctantly after a few moments of silence filled only with their gentle breaths.

“mm,” she nuzzled her face into his neck. “I don't think I can move”

He lets out a deep chuckle then, nuzzling back against her hair. “Well then, I guess I'll just have to carry you to the bathroom” Jasper slides an arm beneath her knees and one behind her back, lifting her up carefully. Y/n lets out a surprised giggle as he picks her up, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carries her bridal style to the bathroom, their bodies still sticky with sweat and other fluids. He sets her down gently on the countertop beside the sink.

“Stay there,” he commands softly, turning on the faucet to fill the tub with warm water. He adds some lavender-scented bath salts, watching as the water turns a light purple. Once it's filled, he turns back to her, his eyes roaming over her bare skin. Jasper held out his hand to help her down from the countertop. He leads her to the tub and slowly lowers them both into the warm water. She sits between his legs while he leans back against the porcelain edge.

“mm, thank you” she mumbles softly, turning her head to nuzzle her face into his neck.

“You're welcome, my love” Jasper murmurs, wrapping his arms around her tightly. The warm water feels soothing on their skin, cleaning away the evidence of their lovemaking. He rests his chin on top of her head, just enjoying the peaceful moment with her in his arms.

--------(Jasper’s pov)--------

I never thought I’d know peace like this.

Not after everything. Not after the wars, the bloodshed, the endless years of loneliness and guilt. And yet here she was, wrapped in my arms, breathing softly against my chest in the quiet aftermath. The woman who had somehow calmed the monster in me.

Her skin glowed from the fairy lights filtering throughout her bedroom. I traced slow patterns on her back, still marveling at how warm and soft she felt beneath my fingers. Human. Fragile. And yet… unbreakable.

At first, I’d been terrified of touching her like this - of losing control. Of hurting her. But she trusted me, and with every careful step, every whispered reassurance, we learned each other. That first night, hesitant and tender - changed everything.

Since then… Well, it was fair to say we’d made up for lost time.

We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Any moment we had alone quickly turned into heated touches, breathless moans, tangled sheets. The thrill of passion mixed with relief. Knowing I wouldn’t hurt her, made it addictive. I could sense her emotions constantly: her desire, her happiness, her love. And mine mirrored hers, endlessly.

It was bliss.

Until a few weeks later, when everything shifted.

She stood in front of me now, holding a small plastic stick in her shaking hand. Two pink lines. Faint but undeniable.

Pregnant.

I felt the shift in her emotions first - the anxiety, the shock, the disbelief. And then my own. A storm of questions erupted in my head. How could this happen? Have I not learned from Edward and Bella's mistakes? The odds should have been astronomical, even for a human-vampire pairing. Edward and Bella’s situation had been unique - Bella carrying a half-vampire child nearly killed her. How could I do this to y/n.

But she was standing here - healthy, glowing, very much alive.

I reached for her gently. “Darlin’... talk to me.”

Her eyes lifted to meet mine - wide, overwhelmed, but not afraid. “Jasper, I feel fine, really. This time it'll be different”

My thumb brushed her cheek. The love I felt for her swelled to the point of pain. “How can you be sure?”

“I talked to Carlisle before I came to you, there’s no sign of what happened to Bella. No accelerated growth. No-” she hesitated, lowering her voice, “No broken ribs, no bruising. Nothing. Just a normal pregnancy.”

I drew her closer, pressing my forehead to hers. The fear in me started to ease. “You tell me the moment you feel anything strange. Anything at all.”

“Of course.” She smiled softly. “Honestly, I feel…happy. Surprised. But happy.”

Her emotions confirmed it. A blend of awe, nerves, and deep affection. No fear. No dread.

I let out a breathless laugh, pulling her into a tighter embrace. “Well, sugar, I guess we’re even more compatible than we thought.”

She giggled, her voice light against my chest. “I guess so… We're not Edward and Bella”

“No. No we are not”

In truth, I still couldn’t believe it. After decades of guilt, war, and violence, I had somehow stumbled into a future I never thought possible. A family. A life that wasn’t built on survival, but on love.

I whispered into her hair, “I’ll take care of you both. Always.”

And I meant it with every inch of my being.

#Jasper Hale #jasper hale x reader #Jasper Hale smut #Twilight smut #jackson rathbone #Twilight x reader #twilight imagines #Jasper Hale imagines #The Cullens #Smut #jasper whitlock

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 11 months ago

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1974 Chevrolet Laguna S-3

The **1974 Chevrolet Laguna S-3** was a distinctive American muscle car from the early 1970s, part of Chevrolet's Laguna series. It was designed to blend sporty performance with a bit of luxury and comfort, catering to drivers who wanted both style and substance.

**Design and Styling:**

The 1974 Laguna S-3 had a bold and unique look with a sleek, low-profile body. It featured a distinctive front end with a wide, angular grille and square headlights, giving it a muscular, aggressive stance. The car had a fastback roofline, which added to its sporty appearance, and often came with decorative side stripes and special "S-3" badging to set it apart from other models.

**Performance:**

Under the hood, the 1974 Laguna S-3 came with a variety of engine options. The standard engine was a 350-cubic-inch (5.7-liter) V8, which produced around 145 horsepower due to emissions regulations of the era. For more power, there was an optional 400-cubic-inch (6.6-liter) V8 engine that produced around 155 horsepower. Both engines were mated to a three-speed automatic transmission, though a manual transmission was also available.

**Features:**

Inside, the Laguna S-3 offered a blend of sporty and luxurious features. The cabin was designed for comfort, with bucket seats, a sporty steering wheel, and a simple, functional dashboard layout. It came equipped with options like air conditioning, power steering, and an AM/FM radio. The interior was spacious, with comfortable seating for up to four people and a decent-sized trunk for luggage or gear.

**Legacy:**

The 1974 Chevrolet Laguna S-3 was part of a time when American car manufacturers were dealing with changing regulations and fuel economy concerns. Despite these challenges, the Laguna S-3 remained a popular choice for those who wanted a combination of performance and style. It is remembered today as a classic example of the muscle car era transitioning into the more regulated 1970s automotive landscape.

Overall, the **1974 Chevrolet Laguna S-3** was a stylish and sporty vehicle that offered a good mix of performance, comfort, and unique design features during a transformative period for American cars.

#Chevrolet Laguna S-3 #Chevrolet Laguna #Chevrolet #Laguna #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle

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tf-kinky · 4 months ago

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Finn had always lived in the shadow of his older brother, Brock. At nineteen, Finn was a wiry, pale kid with a mop of greasy black hair and a knack for tinkering with tech. Brock, on the other hand, was a chiseled twenty-two-year-old jock, six-foot-three with biceps that strained every shirt he owned. He’d been the golden boy of their small town—star quarterback, prom king, the works. Finn? He was the weird one, the kid who’d rather debug code than throw a football. Brock never let him forget it, either. “Hey, Finn-tastic,” he’d jeer, ruffling Finn’s hair like he was still a toddler, “gonna build me a robot girlfriend since no real girl’s gonna look at you?”

Finn had taken it for years, swallowing the bitterness like a jagged pill. But last week, when Brock “borrowed” Finn’s laptop to stream a game and spilled beer all over it—ruining months of work—that was the final straw. Finn wasn’t just mad. He was done. He’d had enough of Brock’s smug grin, his effortless charm, his stupid, perfect life. Finn wanted something for himself, something Brock could never take away. And then he found the app.

It was buried deep in a dark web forum, a sketchy .apk file called “PermaMorph.” The description was cryptic: “Transform anything—or anyone—permanently. No takebacks.” Finn’s pulse raced as he downloaded it onto his cracked old phone, the kind Brock mocked him for not upgrading. The app’s interface was simple: a single text box to type the target’s name, a dropdown for the transformation, and a slider labeled “Sensory Amplification.” Finn didn’t hesitate. He typed “Brock” into the box, scrolled through the options—dog, toaster, chair—until he landed on “Tesla Cybertruck.” He’d been drooling over that angular, futuristic beast since it hit the market, but at $80,000, it was a pipe dream. Until now. For the sensory slider, he cranked it to max. If Brock was going to be a truck, Finn wanted him to feel every second of it. Then he hit “Execute.”

The change happened fast. Finn was in his basement room, hunched over his phone, when he heard a muffled yell from upstairs. He bolted to the living room, where Brock had been sprawled on the couch, midway through a protein shake. Now, Brock was frozen mid-sip, his body shimmering like a glitchy video game character. His skin turned metallic, his arms elongated into sharp, angular panels, and his legs fused into thick, rugged wheels. His face—oh, his stupid, handsome face—flattened into a sleek windshield, his eyes becoming headlights that flickered once before going dark. The protein shake clattered to the floor, splashing across the hardwood as Brock’s massive frame settled into the unmistakable shape of a Tesla Cybertruck. Silver, gleaming, and utterly lifeless.

Finn stood there, mouth agape, as the transformation finished. The room smelled faintly of ozone and burnt rubber. Where Brock had been lounging moments ago, a full-sized Cybertruck now took up half the living room, its front bumper nudging the coffee table. Finn reached out and tapped the hood. Cold. Solid. Real. He grinned.

But Brock wasn’t gone—not entirely. nside the inanimate shell, Brock’s mind was screaming. Every vibration of the floorboards as Finn paced around him felt like an earthquake. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was a deafening roar. The faint breeze from the open window scraped across his metallic surface like sandpaper. He could feel it all—every scratch, every speck of dust, every shift in temperature—but he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink those headlight eyes. He was trapped, a prisoner in a body that wasn’t his anymore, hyper-aware and helpless.

Finn didn’t know that part, and he didn’t care. He climbed into the driver’s seat, running his hands over the steering yoke. The interior smelled new, like leather and factory steel. “Hey, Brock,” he said, patting the dashboard. “Guess who’s useful now?” He turned the key—well, pressed the start button—and the truck purred to life, its electric motor rumbling softly. Finn laughed, a sharp, triumphant sound, and peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing as he left tire marks on the street.

For Finn, it was freedom. He cruised through town, windows down, basking in the stares of neighbors who couldn’t believe scrawny little Finn was rolling in a Cybertruck. He didn’t care that Mom would freak when she got home and found Brock missing. He’d figure out a story—Brock ran off with some girl, maybe. For now, this was his victory lap.

For Brock, it was hell. Every pothole Finn hit sent shockwaves through his frame, every honk from passing cars pierced his nonexistent ears, and every bug that splattered on his windshield felt like a personal violation. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t beg, couldn’t do anything but endure. Finn had his dream ride, and Brock was it—forever.

Hope you enjoyed the story! I was aided by Grok AI

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #tf #transformation #permanent tf #permanent transformation #car transformation #car tf #Cybertruck tf #Cybertruck transformation #brother transformation #brother tf #brothers

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

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IM GONBA EAT MY PHONE MY FAVE OKIVER FICLET EVER ON THE DASHBOARD AGAIN.

“Every thrust and every soft angular drag of the head makes you feel like you're going to make a mess. And you have to keep quiet about it, because if Oliver found out you were on the brink of squirting all over him - he'd definitely make you do it more than once. " (HOT as fuck btw) // "Distantly, you hear your phone ring. It's face up on the coffee table, buzzing. Your boyfriends contact flashes' on the screen, the heart around his name makes you nauseated. A wave of an indescribable emotion passes through you as you look." (i'm literally so torn for them ?,!,&/'dlfn) // "No longer playfully sarcastic, but serious. There's something angry about it. Something so possessive about how deep he's trying to claim you" and THIS "He can't make you happy like I can," He whispers against the shell of your ear, tugging on the lobe as he fucks you through the waves of desire. "So stay focused and ignore his fucking calls when you're with me."

O-|<

your tw oliver tags and your anons are my roman empire

SDJKFHSDKJ THIS IS MAKING ME SO!!!

i wrote that entire drabble with my clit latched to keyboard . no thoughts head empty only toxic weenie . he makes me weird and disgusting and lovesick and it bothers me immensely so i have to post about it. but yeah he's uhm . well

THANK U FOR THIS ASK.... its making me blush to read it back ill be honest kjdkjsfk

#return to sender #tw oliver aiku #annoying man u are so hot

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blockchainxtech · 5 months ago

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Binance clone script — Overview by BlockchainX

A Binance Clone Script is a pre-built, customizable software solution that replicates Binance's features, connect with BlockchainX

What is Binance Clone Script

A Binance clone script refers to the ready-made solution of the Binance platform that deals with core functions parallel to the widely acclaimed cryptocurrency exchange platform associated with Binance. It enables companies to establish their own platforms like Binance, perfectly parameterized in terms of functionality and user interface of world-famous exchanges. The clone script provides display flexibility with built-in functionality such as spot trading software, futures trading configurations, and wallet systems that are extremely secure.

Basically, it reduces development costs and latency because things like these are already built. And as this is a startup for many young entrepreneurs, they can have saved on their capital to expand or grow their business.

The script is blessed as its feature set caters to future demands in the field. One can enjoy a safe trading experience to customers while ensuring that every peculiarity of Binance’s success opens up to investors of the script.

How does the Binance clone script work?

The Binance clone script works to provide a ready-made platform that replicates Binance’s core features, such as user registration, wallet management, trade and enables users to create accounts, deposit or withdraw cryptocurrency, and trade digital assets through an interface easily and safely. The platform supports various trading methods such as market orders, limit orders and forward trading. It has built-in security features like two-factor authentication (2FA) to save the user money. Admin dashboards allow platform owners to manage users, manage tasks, and set up billing. The script can be tailored to your brand, connecting liquidity sources to make trading more efficient. In short, the Binance clone script provides everything needed to create a fully functional crypto exchange.

key features of a Binance Clone Script

The key features of a Binance Clone Script are designed to make your cryptocurrency exchange platform secure, user-friendly, and fully functional. Here’s a simple overview of these features:

User-Friendly Interface

Multi-Currency Support

Advanced Trading Engine

Secure Wallet System

KYC/AML Integration

Admin Dashboard

Security Features

Trading Options

These features help ensure that your Binance-like exchange is efficient, secure, and ready for the growing crypto market.

Technology Stack Used by BlockchainX

Technology stack used for developing the Binance clone script involves the most advanced technology combination that ensures that the platform must have so much security, scalability, and performance to make it a platform that is secure, scalable, and high-performance as well. Here are a few key technologies and their brief descriptions:

Blockchain Technology:

The underlying part of the cryptocurrency exchange is Blockchain because it ensures the safe and decentralized processing of transactions.

Normally executed on either Ethereum or BSC (Binance Smart Chain) to carry out smart contracts and token transfers.

Programming Languages:

Frontend: For frontend, React or Angular could be engaged in actualization of the user interface leading to a responsive and interactive experience on the various devices.

Backend: In backend, languages like Node.js, Python, or Ruby on Rails can be applied on how internal logic is being run by server and arbitration of user interaction with the module is foremost.

Databases:

These two databases, MySQL or Postgresql, are typically used in user information storage, transaction records, and other exchange information.

NoSQL such as MongoDB or other databases might be used for horizontal scalability and high-volume transaction storage.

Smart Contracts:

It is used to generate and send out smart contracts for auto-trading, token generation, and other decentralized functionalities.

Blockchain Wallets:

Fundamentally, this automatically links famous wallet systems such as MetaMask, Trust Wallet, or Ledger for the secure storage and transactions of cryptocurrency.

Advantages of using a Binance Clone Script

Here are the advantages of using a Binance Clone Script:

Faster Time-to-Market

Cost-Effective

Customizable Features

Liquidity Integration

Multiple Trading Options

So, when entering the marketplace of the cryptocurrencies it would be the most possible work of something to pay off at a rapid pace: the Binance Clone Script proves so.

How to Get Started with BlockchainX’s Binance Clone Script

It is quite a straightforward process to begin working with a BlockchainX Binance Clone Script-this involves the first step of getting in touch with the company for an initial consulting period to understand more about what you require, need, or customize for the site, and what your goals are. When BlockchainX has an understanding of your needs, they offer a detailed list of what a proposal would entail before they can start the work; afterward, they will estimate the costs needed to do the project. Once both sides accept both the presentations and all features and timelines are agreed with, BlockchainX starts working on the development process of building a Binance Clone Script tailored to the brand, user interface, and other features.

After the entire platform is created, it passes through severe testing to ensure that everything functions excellently. Deployment follows the thorough test. BlockchainX customizes your user interface and more extensions, after deployment. BlockchainX also commits to supporting and sustaining your exchange so that it runs successfully and securely.

Conclusion:

At the end, your confusion may as well be cut short. Yes, the Binance Clone Script will be a resilient solution to spark up the exchange platforms synthesizing user-generated cryptocurrency dreams in the blockchain, even without bankroll when it comes to developing the app. Turning with BlockchainX expertise, you can make an adjustment and scale a powerful platform stocked with the likes of Binance that produced Blockchains, while still containing some specific set-ups for your masterpiece. More amazing features are exclusive to the clone script, moreover, such as support for multiple currencies, high-end security, real-time data, and a smooth user interface that completes the trading process for your users without any glitch.

This solution gives easy access to ready-made solutions. It could have quality Depending on the time you conveniently let BlockchainX’s be and use both exchanges or any variation of the two permutations. After all, who decides to couple up with a one-experienced Crypto Exchange developer who is struggling to offer anything new.

#binance clone script #binance clone script development #binance clone script development service #blockchain technology #blockchain #cryptocurrency #cryptocurrencies

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ragnars-tooth · 6 months ago

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HII HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

As promised, here are seven wips from the last uhh 3 years I've been writing dragons book fanfic on my silly gay computer. They're a mix of unfinished/abandoned/in-progress-but-not-that-important-rn

There are summaries in square brackets between each separate fic with a quick description of what the fuck is going on, when it's going on (e.g. book number, where appropriate) and main players/relationships. (plus a fun little word-count and look at the last time i touched the file… yeah, fun… whoops). These have been bolded to hopefully make them a bit easier to see while scrolling at high velocity.

All under the cut because it's too long for me to do that to your dashboards 🫡

[Lucy & David, chatting about author photos post-book 4. 475 words. (Oct 2022 💀)]

“Hang on…”

David paused, finger still wedging the spine of the book open. He was staring at the flap of the dust cover, frowning slightly to himself.

“Did you use my student ID for my author photo?”

Lucy leant in closer. College David was a little younger than David Rain – same dark blue eyes, but with a rounder face and hair that hadn’t been bleached white by his time elsewhere. The dusty brown still crept in at the ends of his hair, where it was now stuck to the inside of his collar.

Lucy couldn’t remember how many times she had taken down her copy of The Nutbeast and stared at the little card. It was odd to compare the man who’d lived only in her head for so many years to the one sitting on the edge of her bed.

He looked tired now. In-her-head-David had never been tired.

“It was the only one mum had.” She said.

It was the truth; Liz had run through his entire film collection and hadn’t found a single photo of David’s face. He’d been more of a landscape photographer – lots of buses and bridges that hadn’t consoled her as a child. Well, a younger child.

David cocked his head to one side, looking decidedly distraught. “But it’s awful – that’s not an excuse!”

She glanced back down, as though the image might have twisted into something else in the time she’d released her focus from it.

Nope. Still David, if a little pixelly.

“It looks fine.”

His hair was staticky and spidering out in a mess of flyaways, and David had a slight manic glint to his eyes, grinning in an angular, uncomfortable way. There might have been a stain on his shirt – it was hard to tell.

“It does not.”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow. “And where did you want us to get another? Your return address isn’t even real.”

He flailed the book wildly, “I don’t even have parents! That makes it double your fault for not having a photo of me.” The cover was still propped open an inch or so, the paper caught on his ring. “There has got to be a better one in this house.”

“Can’t fix your face, David. They’re all going to look like that.”

“This is inhumane!” he sputtered.

Despite it all, Lucy found herself smiling.

“We used it at your… not-funeral too.”

“I’m sorry.” David scoffed, eyes very wide. “You used my student identification photo at my funeral?”

“And where were we meant to get another one? You were gone remember? Can’t exactly call ghostbusters and ask them to snap a photo of you.”

David frowned, nose wrinkling at the bridge.

“I don’t think they do that – they bust the ghosts, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re a very annoying ghost. Maybe I should give them a ring regardless.”

-----

[Lucy & David, the audacity that some people have to move on and remodel the kitchen while you’re gone, really. 535 words. (March 2023)]

Irrevocably and stupidly, the only words he can get out of his mouth are:

“You moved the fridge.”

It’s not incorrect – it used to push up against the backdoor, and no amount of goodwill could stop you from nearly decapitating Bonny when he pattered through the cat-flap on short notice.

Now, it’s on the opposite wall – plastered in the same old stickers and fridge magnets reminiscent of days gone by. It’s the same fridge where he used to drink straight from the milk carton and look out over the rockery and crooked garden fence, but it doesn’t face the window anymore. David would have to turn fully around, which rather defeats the purpose.

It’s nothing intelligent, nothing profound – so much, so fucking much, has happened in five years and the only thing he can think about is the fridge, Lucy filling her water in the moonlight, barely tall enough to reach the faucet, and the rattling of the entire house in the winter months, post it notes and postcards and crayon drawings of a clan of squirrels.

There are new drawings now – Alexa’s, he thinks vaguely – but it’s not the same. She holds her markers much tighter.

It shouldn’t be a shock. It’s been so, so long since he was last here, but in the same breath it’s as though David had only closed his eyes for a second to rest, and the house has grown and shifted around him.

He knows that this is how things work, he hadn’t expected or wanted them to dig in their heels and sink into the snow with him. It’s a good thing, he tells himself, that things have changed, but he chokes on the inhale anyway.

He’s been left behind.

Lucy leans into the counter, dragging the cuff of her jumper between her thumb and forefinger. She bites the inside of her cheek the same way she did five years ago, but that’s wrong too.

It’s something in her eyes, something heavy and dark that’s never going away – she’s tired, much more tired than a child has any right being, and it seizes something in his chest.

He did this.

She sighs, moving to play with the collar of the jumper instead.

“Bonny likes to be big now and household fridges aren’t really made to withstand the force of a hundred-pound tiger… it got old real quick.”

David wants to say something, to lapse back into the way things used to be, but his mouth betrays him. He nods instead, and Lucy keeps tugging at the green fabric at her neck. It’s his old geography society jumper, he notices absently. It looks older than he feels, silver lettering faded black and brown, eroded away entirely in places. He hadn’t been to many of the meetings, not after truly being inducted into the Pennykettle’s nonsense, but the dusty smell of the common room and their pilfered coffee machine fills his nose.

It makes him want to gag. Where exactly are those members now? The idea of what will become of them if he fails has the prickle of ice rising just under his skin.

How can things be so much the same and so different all at once?

-----

[Henry & David: excerpt from the wider ‘wouldn’t you be mad as hell if you were a normal guy and found out your birth dad is your landlady’s new boyfriend?’ au, post family dinner explosion/revelation. 703 words. (September 2023)]

“Exiled from my own house.” He muttered darkly.

Henry arched a massive eyebrow. “You don’t pay the rent, boy.”

“I do – that is literally the one thing I do.”

“That’s rough, man.” Tam mumbled, hands weighed down by the tall coffee mug he had pilfered. It tipped dangerously as he raised it to his mouth, threatening to douse them all in yet more sludge. Henry frowned and steadied it with one hand. Tam blinked slowly and reset his angle.

“There’re camping beds under the stairs. You can set yourself up in the living room.” Henry narrowed his eyes at the two of them, “You will not be rumpling my upholstery by sleeping on my sofa.”

Tam hummed, setting his mug down owlishly before slogging out of the kitchen. He looked much more jelly than human, and David had half a mind to go and help him before he gave up on assembling the bed and curled up in a heap on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that had been on Henry Bacon’s extensive list of house rules or not.

“Did you know for long?” Henry asked quietly.

The tone took David off guard, breaking him out of his considerations of how comfortable Henry’s plush carpet was and how likely it was Tam was going to get a good night’s sleep in the inevitability that he collapsed from exhaustion.

“Know what?”

“Don’t be stupid boy.” Henry huffed, his eyes softening more than David had ever seen. It was an odd expression for the hard lines of his face. “How long did you know Arthur was your father?”

He laughed.

Turning his wrist to check the face of his watch he answered,

“Oh, about seven hours.”

“Mm, so ruining dinner was a crime of passion then.”

“Or you could say Arthur ruined dinner twenty-three years ago. Ultra-pre-meditated.”

Henry sighed.

“Don’t start writing crime novels, boy. You’re dreadful.” “It must have been a shock to the system then, you’re not one to get angry.”

David shrugged. It sounded almost like a compliment. Two years ago he would have told you with full certainty that dragons were a fantasy. Now they warmed his tea in the mornings. A lot of things had changed in his life since then.

He shifted his mug between his hands and took another sip. The dregs were starting to cool.

“It would have been better if it had been literally anyone else. Arthur’s been so… kind to me since we met and all this… it’s just-” his nose scrunched, “highly contradictory to everything I thought I knew.”

David’s family had come up in conversation before – once Henry Bacon had hold of a thread he yanked and yanked until it came loose, no matter how many loose teeth he took with it. Perhaps that was why he and Tam got along so well.

It was no secret how David felt about the concept of his father. Henry Bacon had shared enough choice words about the man himself that David had to wonder what calculations were running in the back of his mind. Was he unravelling all of his interactions with Arthur, sliding the threads under a microscope? Was he a good man? Honourable?

David didn’t have the answers to that himself.

He shook his head to clear it.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s barely a father – he wasn’t there to raise me and he certainly wasn’t there when I needed him.” He rolled his mug around to observe the escaped leaves. “I think you did a better job at that.”

“Arthur’s… a complicated man. I’m sure you two will be able to have a civil conversation once this is all said and done.”

When exactly does this get to be done? He wasn’t sure anyone could tell him that. Not for all Arthur’s understanding of the universe and all its components therein was there an equation he could use to fix this. Replace x and y and find how he had missed this. To be so impossibly close and so far away at the same time. No doubt, he would have invented time travel before he would have noticed what sat right in front of him.

David hummed into his empty mug.

“Sure.”

-----

[Tam/David, General Pennykettle Clan. David is weird after being resurrected, and everyone has questions about Co:pern:ica. There is another family dinner because those are all I write apparently. Tam and David go for a smoke break. 3067 words. (November 2022)]

“’Not like it can kill me anyway.” He says. “I didn’t eat for four years, it’s not like a bit of smoke will do me in now.”

The silence is suddenly oppressive, and when David looks up the entire damn table is staring at him, slack-jawed. He has missed something.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Four years?” Liz is still holding the plate of roasters, stuck in the motion of sliding more onto her plate with the flat of her knife. There is something akin to real horror in her eyes.

“I was dead for one, yes.”

She extends the plate to him jerkily. “Then you’d better make up for it now.”

Ah! Yes, the human concept of starvation, he’d forgotten that one. Generally pretty upsetting to the average person – makes sense.

David pushes the plate back her way, gentle not to disturb the roasters as he laughs. They’re the herb covered kind and it would be a dire shame to spill them all over the floor, no matter if Bonny might thank him.

“No, really. I’m fine. Had other things to worry about – slipped my mind if anything.”

Other things, yes… let’s say that, shall we?

Arthur has inclined his head towards him in the way that means he’s grabbed the string of an intriguing theory and intends to tug it until the entire tapestry unravels. He gets that look about him a lot.

David shivers despite the British cold always being abrasively hot to him these days. What an odd image to set him on edge.

“Would you call that typical for the Fain? Not needing to sustain a physical body?”

He rolls the unlit cigarette around between his fingers.

“No,” David hums, “I don’t think it’s a Fain thing, I think it’s a dead thing.”

“But you’re not dead now, are you?” There’s a tension in Zanna’s words that he wasn’t expecting. If he were sentimental he might have called it concern. But he’s not sentimental, he’s Fain – he doesn’t do that anymore.

David shrugs. “Not entirely sure if I count as alive either.”

“You do.” She’s quick – always has been to cut off the things she doesn’t want to hear. Zanna has made it clear enough that she doesn’t like the thought that David Rain was never real, that he was some construct given life. He can’t blame her.

“Can we not talk about how you’re dead or not dead.” Lucy snaps, her plate clinking a dangerous tone when she slams down her fork. David flinches at the sound. Tam has his eyes on him again. “You’re finally back and I don’t want to think about -” she glares at the fireplace, “-all that. I just want to have dinner again.”

He feels a twinge of the heaviness and lightness of space winking back at him. The same sensation of holding Bergstrom’s pocket watch in his open hand and staring into its face, and all that that entails.

Good, it seems to say to him, you’re not here to be liked.

“’Course. Sorry, Luce.”

She shakes her head, and seems to think better of whatever was on the tip of her tongue. She picks up her fork again and returns her gaze to the plate,

“Whatever, answer Arthur’s physics questions.”

David slides his Yorkshire pudding onto her plate in some semblance of a peace offering. Lucy douses it in gravy and almost smiles at him.

“It’s probably an… Illumination thing, rather than a Fain thing.” He tucks the cigarette into the pocket of his shirt. With the way Arthur has crossed his hands on the tablecloth there is no way David is going to get a smoke break any time soon. “I was in limbo for a long time, but I remember that my parents used to cook.”

Those eyes are all on him again. Even Bonny has plodded back into the living room to stare at him, though he’s probably waiting for one of their entourage to drop a piece of chicken.

The cat glides under the table, and from the sound of pattering paws David can hear him settle in Arthur’s lap. The professor removes a hand from the table to rest in Bonny’s fur. Then his eyes move from the patch of wall over David’s shoulders to his face.

Right. Being stared at. That’s what’s happening.

“Not my parents,” he corrects. “One of me’s parents.” That’s worse.

“The me that does not have this specific earth body, but existed in Co:pern:ica.” Better? “The me that had parents.” Nope, that’s even worse.

No one looks like they know what to say. He can’t blame them. This whole family thing is a mess.

“We do eat.” He settles on, then shoves a piece of parsnip in his mouth for good measure. He is safe for the next five to twelve seconds, if he really pushes it.

They’re curious, but no one wants to touch that mess, so Arthur breaks the quiet of everyone glancing off awkwardly at various décor, grimacing slightly. “You had mentioned that the Fain don’t do many menial tasks unless they’re unavoidable – if you remember it that way, then you’re likely right.”

“Well, I don’t remember it, but based on Co:pern:ica David, I’d say so.“ Good Godith, what was in that fucking wine? “His parents cooked, so they had to eat. Probably...”

The looks return, so he moves on quickly, waving his hands vaguely.

“Multiple timelines,” he says, “There’s several me’s, doing about the same thing now. Several you’s too. I’m just aware of them because of the d- Illumimation thing.”

Why did you say that?? Now they’re going to want to know-

“There’s multiple of us?” Tam looks at him over the rim of his glasses, half-smirking, “What, am I still a journalist?”

“Uhhh…” Well. “Of a sort. It’s hazy, but I think you worked for the media.”

Don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested for treason and left for dead, don’t say he used to look at you with admiration in his eyes, and that stupid overgrown haircut, don’t say you were jealous of the way he looked at Rosa, for God’s sake David you can keep your thoughts to yourself you stupid bastard.

“You guys have a media?”

Oh great, you’ve just made him more interested. Good job, jackass!

David tries to make a non-comital sound in the back of his throat. It comes out strangled. Zanna frowns at him as she sips her wine.

“Very… State-operated, if you get my drift.”

Tam, ever the journalist, has just opened his mouth to probe for more answers when Liz cuts him off. She has piled up the empty plates in her quadrant of the table. David hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s floundering, but from the fact that she’s diffusing the situation he has to accept that it probably is.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging – who were the rest of us,” she laughs, “who was I?”

You used to read me to sleep. You painted the walls of my bedroom green when I said the grey made me sad. You were the only person we knew who made things with her hands instead of Imagineering them. You went to the Dead Lands and made life. You were my –

“You were a potter.”

Tam rolls his eyes,

“God, are we all boring?”

It makes him oddly defensive for some reason.

“Zanna worked at the librarium.”

You know the reason. You knew all of these people in a way they can never know. You’ve loved them every universe you’ve been alive in. You always will. They cannot know that. It would be too hard. It would make you cry, and the Fain don’t cry.

“Librarium?” Arthur asks, Bonny’s round face pouting over the edge of his plate, eyes focused on the sliver of ham across a moat of gravy. It’s safe for now, it’ll take at least another ten minutes for Bonnington to figure out that he can step up onto the table.

“It’s… basically a library, but the books are alive and it’s run by Henry Bacon.”

“Mr Bacon?” Lucy looks frankly appalled at the idea.

“A weird Fain Mr Bacon, yes. I think I – I think the other me was living there.”

“Like when Gwiliana kicked you out.”

David snorts. “Yeah, like the week from hell.”

He shakes his head, re-adjusts course, then looks back to Arthur. “We haven’t had physical books in over a hundred years – the librarium was where they all went, Henry-” he nods to the woman on his right, “-and Zanna kept them in order.”

He sips from his glass.

Probably a bad idea, you’ve been running your mouth all night. Shut up.

“They were bloody tricky bastards.”

Zanna looks at him oddly. Her brows are pinched but she doesn’t seem overtly disgusted with the idea. It’s possibly the first time she has been at least neutral on the discussion of the Fain.

On the discussion of who you are.

“You couldn’t have lived at a library. You would’ve made a pig’s ear of it.” Her voice is not cold – it’s a joke, probably. She thinks it’s funny.

“Oh, I did.” He pauses, tries to recall the details. The librarium is hazy for some reason.

He recalls Rosa and her kicker boots, lying in the grass by the well, firebirds overhead. He remembers being eleven, reading about pianists… then being… twenty? He decides not to poke around too hard in that gap, though its vastness is mildly concerning.

He worries that there is something there that is worse than not knowing.

You felt that way before. When you were first living at the Crescent. You had huge gaps in your childhood. Scattered dates and one or two fixed points. You don’t even know if that was real. You don’t know if you want it to be.

David swallows thickly, “I don’t… actually remember what happened while I was there – while he was there. But he must have been there about ten years – that’s what the memories tell me anyway.”

You wanted me to leave the librarium so I would stop distracting you. You made me daisy chain bracelets and we used to curl up in the hammocks together to read. There wasn’t enough room but I would race you to see who could finish their volume faster. You almost always won, but I paid more attention to the details. I never did understand what was meant to be more or less important – it was in the book, so it had to be relevant, right? Mr Henry said we complimented each other nicely.

David is vaguely aware that he has slipped into a long silence. He watches Tam glance across the table at Zanna. His fingers itch for that cigarette.

“There are two of us left wise guy.” Lucy says, finally pushing her plate away. She hasn’t touched the sprouts. She never does. “What did Arthur and I get up to?”

He pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his seat. His plate still has a mound of mash and peas. It’ll get cold and start going soggy soon. He hasn’t felt hungry since he died. He’ll still eat it.

David rolls his shoulders.

“Arthur was a physicist – it goes over my head but I think it was something to do with time.” Arthur tips his head not unlike a dog. He would love more details but David isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t get it.

You were my dad. You worked a lot. You did a good enough job when I did see you.

“I think… you had a cool name. It’s on the tip of my tongue”

Lucy snorts. “Boring. Just me left!” She arches a curious eyebrow – the one with the carefully placed slit. “And I better be more interesting.”

This is vague too. She’s young – no, really young – and then she’s… less young? But still a little kid. There’s the same chasm in his memory.

How can I know she’s my sister and have no idea when she was born? How do I have no clue what happened after I left – is it just too close? Do I need to write it down?

At the thought of writing a familiar green snout noses its way into his head. Zookie sits on his desk, looking up at him expectantly. The little dragon taps his pencil on the edge of his pad in a way that betrays some irritation. I can’t believe you’re making me fish through your memories, he’s saying.

Nonetheless, Gadzooks scribbles down his answer, then flips the wire-bound book so David can decipher it.

Angel.

It makes his mouth go dry. What the hell did Lucy have to do with an angel, and why does it make him so uneasy? Zookie shrugs and, as he dissipates like smoke, David takes a long drink.

When he finally has enough sense about him not to melt into the carpet or storm off into the night and never return, he smiles at Lucy.

“You were the most boring child I’d ever met in my life. You liked maths.”

“I still like maths!” Lucy snaps, rolling her eyes. “I’m an engineering student!”

David shrugs, “You literally can’t get more boring, Luce.”

She lobs a pea at him and Liz starts gesturing at the two of them with her ladle. There’s the usual lecture about acting like adults, and how Lucy really should know better by now, but David isn’t listening. His eyes keep drifting to the window, out into the garden. He feels odd, though he can’t place it.

He shakes it off – talking about the Fain, delving into the memories of people who are him but not quite always has him disoriented afterwards – that’s all.

And whatever Gadzooks is on about will either happen or it won’t. He can dwell on it later. For right now, Tam is staring at him over the head of his beer – half empty. That seems a little more pressing than Zookie’s one-word puzzles.

“I’m gonna go take that smoke.” David says, already out of his seat by the time Zanna can send him a wayward glance. She still seems uneasy – she sees something in his face that she doesn’t like, her brows furrow further and she returns to her wine.

Liz sighs, but makes no move to stop him. “Just don’t throw the butt in the bushes,” she says, “I don’t want you setting all of Scrubbley on fire.”

“Will do.”

He sends her a mock salute, then dips around the door into the hallway.

Tam is three feet behind him when his hand is on the front door. “Figured you might need a lighter.”

David looks back to him before pushing the door open. “You are a shock Mr Farrell! A poet and a smoker – Liz will never approve.”

He gets a wry smile in response. “You started it – you’re the favourite ‘round here anyway. We can call you a bad influence on me.” He pats his jacket pocket – it’s the one with the tartan print lining that comes through at the hood and the cuffs. “Do you need that light or not?”

David pushes the door the rest of the way open, then stops it open with his weight.

“I think between us we should be able to manage.”

They sit on the brick wall that lines the entire front side of the Crescent. It’s perhaps a little too low even for David, but it beats standing around in the cold air, shifting your weight from foot to foot until the cigarette is biting your fingers.

Tam extracts a beaten-up silver lighter from his pocket, then fiddles with the latch for a moment. The cigarette resting on his lip wobbles as he swears, failing the ignition several times.

“No juice?”

He sighs.

“Not even a spark.”

David shrugs, “’s alright, I do have a back-up for when handsome journalists don’t have a lighter.”

He leans closer into Tam’s space, cupping his hands in a small bowl.

He had done this before – maybe not in this life, but the echoes of the action were strong enough that he could feel the order of operations like a phantom pain.

He felt vaguely that he was cupping his hands more to protect it from the wind than as a necessary motion. It would appear when he closed his eyes and thought it – dreamt it.

He conjured up the image of a small candle flame, the orange hue and white core, flickering slightly but solid enough in shape and colour.

Someone was talking over his shoulder – several someones, whispery and faint on the wind. The main voice was familiar enough – Liz, but not quite. He chooses to ignore the difference.

He feels the bright heat and the wobbling shape, forces it to become real, then David Rain opens his eyes.

It isn’t that impressive for a little light that has completely shattered several laws of physics. It looks more like David is hiding a birthday candle in his palms. A very small, very shit birthday candle. Been there, he thinks.

Tam, however, had clearly not been there. His eyes have gone wide, and the cigarette looks in serious danger of tumbling straight out of his mouth.

“Fuck me.” He mumbles.

“Not right now.” David says, raising his hands to his mouth.

The flame is real enough to catch, and David is soon offering his palms to Tam. He bends his head to accommodate the spark.

Once the second cigarette is lit, David pulls his hands away from one another, extinguishing the light. Tam takes a drag, still staring wide-eyed over the rims of his glasses.

“Jesus fuck. Have you always been able to do that?”

David laughs. Have I, indeed.

“First time.”

“Christ.”

He takes a drag of the cigarette. Two men puffing smoke on the front door-step of the dragon-potter’s house – it was no wonder that rumours of real, scaly dragons have popped up in the neighbourhood. David imagines there might be more rumours of that calibre soon, but pushes it to the back of his mind.

“You had something to ask me.”

He considers denying it for a moment, then lets it go.

“I did.” Tam says, chewing over the next syllables in his head before he finally lets them loose, “Are you alright?”

-----

[David/Zanna. I hit early series David with the transgenderism beam. Zanna does David’s makeup, she has feelings about it. 1038 words. (31 December 2022… omg happy birthday ‘transes ur gender.docx’)]

It’s a joke.

Zanna has joked approximately a thousand times that he has the right face for makeup. That David has nice lashes and deep eyes and a just slightly soft jaw. He is indulging in the joke.

It means absolutely nothing, other than that he has a sense of humour.

In fact, it’s so funny that David is sat stock-still. Committing to the bit and allowing his partner to work her magic is going to make the outcome objectively so much funnier.

It’s a little bit secondary school sleepover – not the type that he’d ever been to, of course, there were a few more dicks and a bit less lip-gloss at those, but the thought remains – David perched on the edge of the bed, Zanna leaning tantalisingly into his space, a look of wicked concentration on her face.

He continues to avoid Zanna’s eyes. If he catches them then he’ll just start laughing, and then Zanna will start laughing, and then they’ll be a mess and the joke won’t get finished. Given the time she’s spent on his eye-shadow, it would be a shame at this point.

Lucy had never really been into makeup, or at least none of the fancy stuff. But she had found the idea of doing him up absolutely hysterical. She’d offered a hundred times but the thought had always struck something deep inside him – annoyance, was it? That she felt like he was a doll to practice on, maybe?

That she would absolutely fuck it up on purpose?

And considering the whole joke is that Zanna’s going to make him look like a girl, what would’ve been the point in fucking it up? They’ve already established that being overly serious is hilarious.

That looking convincingly like a girl when he’s not one is the peak of comedy.

On the desk over Zanna’s shoulder, Zookie huffs. He twiddles the pencil between his paws, scaley eyebrows drawn together.

He flips the page and looks up at David. Whatever he was hoping to see, he does not, and the dragon shakes his head, tapping the book with some impatience.

Hmph, David thinks, if only you had some way to tell me things that we’ve used a dozen times. Or a language we both speak. What a crying shame.

“Alright?”

“Fine.” His voice is a little rough from disuse and nothing else. They have been sat in silence for quite some time.

“Sure?” a brush flicks around the corners of his eyes, “It’s not getting in your eyes, is it?”

“No.”

She snorts to herself, dropping the brush back into a basket of the bastards.

“You’re being very talkative, darling.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was meant to.”

“Relaxing when other people do your makeup, isn’t it?”

David hummed.

“Becca always falls asleep when I do hers. Nightmare when you’re meant to be going out somewhere.”

“Becca?” He tried to conjure an image of Zanna’s older sister in his mind. The result was a woman who was very much normal. Or at least, not someone who dresses remotely like her sister. “Isn’t your style a little… much for her?”

“Oi! She’s not boring, you know. And anyway, I can tone it down, and I am right now. I wasn’t aware you wanted me to make you a gothic princess, David.”

Oh, that might have been ni- funny, it would have been very funny.

It would have been nice to see himself in so much makeup because it would have enhanced how funny the entire situation was.

Which it is right now – funny.

When he doesn’t answer, Zanna knocks him gently with her elbow.

“I’m joking, you clod. You’ve got a perfectly normal face going on. The old ladies in Sainsbury’s will live.”

The idea of leaving the house like this – whatever this looks like – sends a jolt of ice down his spine. It’s an electric feeling that he doesn’t know how to place. It sits deep in his chest in a way that almost hurts. Somehow he’s not sure that it’s a bad hurt.

He forces himself to laugh, though it comes out a little mechanical. If Zanna notices, she is too busy trying to drag the eyeliner across his face in a straight line to comment.

“What’s the point then? Go big or go home, eh?”

“Et, voila! What d’you think?”

He looks himself in the eyes and a jolt of panic runs the entire way through his body.

Oh God.

It’s a thin pane of glass in the Pennykettle’s bathroom, but David is half convinced that if he reaches out, his hand will pass straight through the frame.

That’s not him. It can’t be.

He watches himself crumple before he feels it happen, and once he cracks, the entire thing goes.

Zanna’s arm wraps around his middle, and she starts to pull him gently away from the mirror. David’s feet are cemented to the tile, they continue to stare over her shoulder at the reflection. They’re not convinced they could look away if they tried, as if some ancient magic has bound them to the spot, encased them in ice.

Their reflection is crying. Zanna brushes a hand through their hair carefully.

“Hey.” She says softly. “We can take this off, if you want.”

She’s already leaning for the makeup wipes when David’s head shakes.

“It’s not that…” Their voice catches, much smaller than it ever has been before. “It’s not bad.”

Then what is it?

The eyeliner has tracked all the way down to David’s chin now, and Zanna wipes away the offending drop before it can stain their jumper. Only when she blocks the mirror fully from view does David look back to her.

“No?” she asks. She’s whispering, like this moment is something that could be broken by a raised voice. David’s not so sure that’s wrong. They find themself leaning minutely towards Zanna. “Then what is it?”

“That’s me.”

The waves finally crash to shore.

It washes over Zanna quickly, and David watches as the words hit them both full force. Her eyebrows arch, and the whites of her eyes widen around her dark irises. But just as quickly, any surprise is gone.

“Oh.” She whispers. “Oh, love.”

-----

[Tam vs Lucy. After winning at the battle of Isenfier, everyone bickers. Tam suffers. (yoinked from larger wip about the fallout of Isenfier) 576 words (June 2024)]

Tam blinked to clear his head. Right…

“The… cat.”

Lucy frowned in that vicious way that all teen girls seemed inherently skilled at.

“She’s a girl now: keep up, Tam!”

He raised his hands in mock-defence, “Right, sorry. And this girl is… our problem why, exactly?”

Lucy huffed again, as though she thought Tam was being particularly dense. Perhaps he was, but he rather thought he was owed a little more leniency on account of only recently having been un-buried-alive. God forbid he be a little behind on his dragon apocalypse lore.

“She’s one of us. She stays.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted her chin in Tam’s direction indignantly. “There’s room in the car, anyway.” She added, as though that was that.

Tam chose to ignore that this was his car, and that it was rapidly going to become a tight squeeze if they continued to adopt every miscreant they encountered in the West Country. Surely ‘Bella’ had family, somewhere? She hadn’t always been a cat - right? - and therefore didn’t really have to become their problem. Though, undeniably, it was difficult to argue with the rapidly deflating look on her face; if she started to cry Tam wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue. Perhaps someone could lay in the boot if it got too cramped. Maybe Zanna would do him a favour and knock him out before he had to do the tetris-ing himself.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Tam.” Bella said, as if Tam had anything to do with the offer. Lucy gestured wildly and with finality to indicate that everything had, obviously, been sorted.

Zanna and David were exchanging looks to the side. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” Zanna eventually settled on, “No one’s going back to Scrubbley tonight anyway.”

Lucy started.

“Why not? We have to tell mum that everything’s okay – she needs to know it worked and that the ix are gone and-”

David clapped her on the shoulder, having to look up a little to counteract Lucy’s lankiness.

“It’s fine, squirrel. We’re all going to have a chill evening to cool down from saving the world, and let Liz know over the phone not to expect us back yet-” He pat his chest, where the inner pocket of his jacket sat, and blanched. “With the phone I don’t have anymore… where the hell has that gone?”

David let go of Lucy’s shoulder and began to check the rest of his numerous pockets. It was a bizarre interpretation of the dance Tam’s father had done every few feet when he walked through an airport. After smacking enough of his clothing and finding them bereft of his beaten up mobile, David eventually gave up, slicking a hand through his hair and sending dust and soil through it in dark streaks.

“Well, that’s somewhere. Never mind, I’ll call her at the lodge.”

Tam patted at his own jeans and was, for a moment, fooled by a particularly hard wad of dirt. He was forced to admit that he too had lost his phone. It was going to be a damn pain to replace.

“There’s not going to be any electricity at the BnB. This entire place is shredded.” Tam said, as he certainly didn’t have a phone of his own to offer.

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” David said.

Zanna rolled her eyes.

“Why do I hate the sound of that?”

-----

[Sophie & Zanna, end/post book 2, reflecting on the whole ‘wait is this cheating??’ situation (no it’s not, it’s Zanna having a big gay crush on Sophie that she will never completely recover from/come to terms with). They should’ve made out 😔. 277 words (November 2024)]

“Sorry, I – I didn’t know. About you and David.” Once she’d said it, Zanna wasn’t strictly sure it was true. She’d known David had a girlfriend; she just hadn’t cared. It didn’t seem that David had either. She felt herself flushing at the thought, well aware that she’d been caught in the act.

“No harm no foul.” Sophie said, an easy smile on her cherry pink lips. Her eyes crinkled at the corners – the irises very blue, like syrup dripped through ice. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Zanna had been enabling her boyfriend to cheat on her. “I was on my way to break up with him officially and we were pretty much over in October. You’re not on my territory, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sophie’s territory truly hadn’t concerned her at all – clearly – but Zanna still felt offbeat, an uncomfortable sweat building at her forehead. Sophie was far too calm about the entire affair, her straw blonde hair tied back in a ponytail low at the base of her neck, strands tickling her face. She brushed one away with her knuckles and brought her hand back to rest in her coat pocket. There was a security in the way she stood – relaxed, unbeaten by the breeze.

Zanna tucked a loose braid behind her ear, the beads and charms clinking in uneven tones.

“It wasn’t his idea.” She found herself saying regardless, feeling like a child at confession. “I kissed him first.”

Sophie’s eyebrows quirked curiously. Her smile widened, top lip curling away from her teeth. She inclined her head gently. “I would imagine so. He’s dreadfully slow with anything romantic.”

#rangnar rambles #tldc #david rain #tam farrell #zanna martindale #i think theyre the main characters in... all that 💀#i thought about splitting these into seperate readmores all in one long reblog chain but it turns out they all open at once no matter what #one you click on. which sort of defeated the purpose of trying to make them openable seperately #and to be real with you i cant be fucked to make seven seperate posts for fics i dont care that much about 💀#that's so much text Good Luck #also if i decide i dont want these out there one day i dont want to be hunting down 7 different posts so.... sorry. but not That sorry <3 #i yearn for Thoughts so please do whack your comments in a reblog if you have any #i think my brain stopped working when i had to go through all 47 docs in my tldc folder to put this together. which was several hours ago #and not all of those were fics or even solid thoughts. but too many of them were. ive written a lot of stupid cringe fanfic (/pos) about #these stupid cringe books (you can fill in your own understanding for this one)#whatevs. i could say its the ✨end of an era✨ but you know for a fact im back to the same old bullshit in 5 hours as i was 5 years ago #who give A SHIT!! time is soup. autism is forever 💪😤💪#if the formatting breaks when i hit post im going to... cry. and eat potato chip. and probably go back to whatever i was on about with #sophie and zanna in there #the fic tag

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