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identifying-cars-in-posts · 3 months

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I GOT A NEW CAR

Everybody meet the new baby that i will never shut up about forever!

This is Clifford the Third, my new 1996 Nissan Pickup!! I probably paid too much for her but given that I live in Massachusetts and she has virtually no rust I’m okay with that lol.

So a brief history of the Nissan Pickup! These trucks were released in the US in 1985 and were sold through 1997, when they were replaced with the Frontier. They were the successor to the beloved Datsun 720, which had been in production since 1979. They are in fact just called the Pickup! They’re colloquially known as the D21 - their chassis code, and the Hardbody, because of the double walled durable construction of the trucks’ bed.

The D21 was available with a couple different engines and drivetrain layouts. Mine is a 4x4 with the KA24 motor (which it shared with the 240SX/Silvia). She’s also a King Cab, meaning she has a slightly elongated wheelbase to allow for two small inwards facing jump seats in the back of the cab. Still a two door though.

AND SHE’S A STICK! She has a 5-speed manual transmission, and it’s the best transmission i’ve ever personally had in a car. She’s my third manual, the other two being a 1999 Toyota Corolla and a 2004 Subaru WRX, both of which were great but the Corolla had a really sloppy gearbox that felt incredibly vague at times, whereas the WRX had a sportier transmission that was pretty unforgiving and stiff. This one is definitive about where each gear is, but also won’t get too jerky or loud if you shift a little early or late.

Nissan Hardbody trucks are known and loved for their durability, versatility, and simplicity. They’re super bare bones but what they do have is built remarkably well and meant to withstand lots of abuse. If they don’t rust and have basic maintenance kept up it’s not uncommon for them to go 300k+ miles with minimal issues. Mine has around 184k miles, high but manageable. She also has a few modifications from the previous owner, namely a straight piped exhaust (no muffler, just one big long aluminum tube), aftermarket bumpers and lights, locking hubs, and a small lift. The guy i bought it from had plans to make it an off-roader but had too many projects and needed to offload one to make space in his driveway.

While many people either take these off-roading or turn them into drift trucks, my plan is to bring her back to mostly stock. I’m in the process of tracking down OEM bumpers and a more typical cat-back (from the catalytic converter back) exhaust system so she’s a little less obnoxiously loud. Since i mostly just need reliable transport more than a toy and she is now my sole car, I want to just make her relatively normal. But I love her a lot and am happy to be able to share!

#not a car id #nissan #i put like 70 miles on her today alone and she did great

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nelson-et-murdock · 2 years

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little yeehaw brain thinks driving foggy in my brother’s jeep yj would be so fun idk why

#jj’s thoughts #foggy nelson #foggy nelson my beloved #honestly it’s a fun thing to drive #and it’s very tall #i took a picture of me standing on the bumper

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moongreenlight · 6 months

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Insane reader my beloved. Literally my babygirl.

@katz-chow been ruminating on this one just for you <3

CW: Gore and violence

Reader who shows up late to their first meeting with the task force. Rolls up in their dark sedan with blacked-out windows and one too many dents on the front bumper wearing civvies instead of the uniform they were given and instructed to wear.

Reader who is a privately hired detective with a talent for interrogations. Not officially a member of the task force or the military because the tactics they use are far less than legal. More a secret weapon on retainer for when doing things by the book doesn’t do the trick.

Reader who gets on the good sides of the task force boys by being sugary sweet and barely hiding their true colors. Skins and bleaches the skulls of interrogations gone South and gives them to Ghost insisting they’re better than the costume store shit he’s got on now.

Gifts Price expensive cigars tucked between the fingers of a severed hand. Drops them off in large pink boxes with delicate ribbons and giggles when he asks a thousand questions about why and how and what the fuck he was supposed to do with this.

Tosses Gaz new knives on the field when they’ve landed a kill or just wrenched them out of someone’s stomach. They make a game out of chucking the gore-slicked blades at one another’s heads to see if they can dodge in time.

Starts playing dodgeball with Soap where they toss his less-stable bombs and unpinned grenades back and forth. Only stops after they’ve accidentally blown up the camp two missions in a row. (Also heavily rumored they have tramp stamps of each other’s names because they’re both too stubborn to back down from a dare but that’s just for vibes)

Reader who gets flown out on specialty missions where a hostage really refuses to talk and takes matters into their own hands. Sometimes hopping on radio when they’re in transit and requesting the force pulls extra men so they can play a live game of operation. They’ve been watching videos on the dark web and the first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy from their military issued laptop so it’s like an 80% chance all the hostages live.

Reader who stops being allowed to train rookies because the first and only faux-deployment they led they told the group they ran out of rations three days in to a two week long training and they had to play rock-paper-scissors to create a bracket of people to eat first. The mission gets called early when Price gets word that there was actually a field amputation done. Reader doesn’t even apologize, just laughs their way through a barely reasonable explanation. I didn’t think they’d actually do it.

Reader who begs the boys to let them play kill, kiss, marry, kill in the middle of a boring interrogation and when they get told no or to focus on the task at hand, they throw such a fit that they end up sending a screwdriver through the eye of the person they’re supposed to be interrogating.

Reader who brings their own kit to interrogations. Lugs around pincers, rusted blades, rotary bone saws, and dull axes in a flamingo pink toolbox. Sets it up on a small table in front of the hostage and unboxes it like an influencer showing off PR.

Reader who also stops being able to run conditioning and drills with rookies because they pitted the privates against one another during a sparring session. Saying something about whoever could sheath a blade in the other first got a bonus check before tossing a few knives on the mat and walking away. Gaz had to run over and tell them you weren’t serious when he saw blood.

Reader who insists on being able to puppeteer the decapitated head of an enemy grunt they took down and reciting a few lines of Shakespeare to the boys. Dragging the mission out because they know as well as the boys do that everyone is on their timeline.

Reader who dances around hostages that have been zip tied to chairs and beat within an inch of their life. Singsonging threats and having the boys drag the limp bodies of their chain of command across the floor.

Reader who pouts when their victims pass out during questioning after a few of their fingers have been chopped off with a butcher’s knife. Huffs like they’re being put through a massive inconvenience and fishes smelling salts out of their toolkit to wake the poor sap back up.

#gn!reader but soooooooooo babygirl ykwim?#cod mw2 #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble

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onboardsorasora · 7 months

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I wrote it @arturleclerc and @123pixieaod! A cute lil kid fic. Sequel to this my first ever f1rpf drabble, and based on this adorable party. (I hope it's good 🫣)

Edit: we now have a continuation here

Daniel wouldn't say he was overwhelmed but it was a near thing. Overwhelmed with so much happiness. He stood in the middle of his and Max's living room looking around to make sure the decorations were perfect.

Of course, everyone knew the first birthday party was for the parents and not the child. And maybe he and Max had been more than a little self indulgent when they agreed on the Formula 1 theme.

Of course, all of the ready made decorations were in red and even suggesting that to Max had been tantamount to treason. So, they had designed everything themselves. Between the both of them they were; creative, detail oriented and anal retentive.

Max designed the cake and wall decor and Daniel tackled the birthday boys outfits, the photo backdrops and the floor decor. Then they'd sent them off to their party planner and waited.

Daniel had to admit, it had been a lot of work– lots of phone calls and organizing and dates– but everything came together beautifully. While Red Bull wasn't the actual theme, no one could even suggest that this was a Ferrari themed party.

Noah was currently cooing in his Papa's arms, banging a rubber duck – gifted by his uncle Carlos– on Max's shoulder. He was delighting in the short squeaks. Max held him sturdily, glancing over with a smile when Noah offered the duck to him.

Daniel thought Noah looked adorable in his mini race suit that closely matched the race suit his parents wore back in 2017, the deep navy with the bright red racing stripe on the side.

He was a chunky pale thing with blue eyes and blonde hair; all Max and barely any Daniel. If he hadn't carried him and went through nine hours of labour, Daniel would have thought that he was Max's clone. (His short blonde hair was finally showing maybe the possibility of a curl or wave and Daniel couldn't be happier).

"Everything looks amazing, Danny. You did well." Sebastian offered him a beer, clinking their bottles together.

"Thank you. It was a lot." Daniel laughed, side-stepping Isaac, his nephew, who was chasing another friend in the matching electric bumper cars that looked like an Aston Martin DBS and Honda NSX.

"Noah seems to be enjoying himself."

Daniel snorted, "oh that duck is his new best friend. I'm not even mad because before, it was one of the protein shaker bottles."

"Daniel! Where is my beloved nephew?" Charles entered the room with a flourish. He deposited his gift bags in a seemingly safe corner and beelined for Max who turned from his conversation with Lando and Carlos. Charles only had eyes for Noah, altering his voice and making faces to get the toddler to giggle.

Noah acquiesced to being held by one of his uncles and Max begrudgingly let him go. Charles immediately walked to one of the photo backdrops, the one proclaiming Noah the future F1 Champ and demanded photos be taken of them. Lando rolled his eyes but soon was taken in by his unofficial duties as photographer.

"Uncle Daniel look! I have tattoos like you now!" Isabella ran up to the pair, showing off her arm that now sported multiple racing themed temporary tattoos. Daniel crouched to her level with a wide Ricciardo grin, his eyes squinting with his happiness.

"We match!" He said excitedly, pressing his larger forearm against her tinier one. Kissing her racecar with his Love. She squealed in happiness, kissed his cheek and ran off to play with the other children running amok in the den.

Max came over and flung his arm around Daniel's waist and it was then that Seb saw the matching tshirts. 'Dad of Champ' 'Papa of Champ'. Max's smile could only be described as proud.

The chaos continued with a car race around a 'track' set up in the den and extended to the patio and back. Issac won the first race, a little girl named Brin won the second and Isabella won the third. The trophy ceremonies were the stuff of dreams; Daniel and Carlos taught the kids to spray the sparkling grape juice like winners. Charles snuggled comfortably with Noah, pointing out all festivities with adorable commentary.

When it was time to cut the cake, Noah 'drove' to the table in his DBS that had his name on it. He squealed happily when Daniel scooped him up and kissed his chubby cheeks. He reached for the cake before anyone could stop him and the group laughed and sung happy birthday while he happily munched on cake and blue icing.

Max leaned over to kiss Noah's stained cheek and Daniel felt like his heart was bursting out of his chest. Yeah, he was officially overwhelmed and life was good.

#maxiel #max/daniel #kid fic #first birthday party #maxiel fic #mentions of mpreg #my fic rec #maxiel parents #noah au

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daddymilker691 · 6 months

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Well my beloved readers of London most sought after naughty newspaper the Daily Milker yes you know the one the one that puts the brings the makes Cindy a sinner makes Natalie feel naughty that raises much more than an eyebrow in Westminster yes my beloved and dear readers it’s the Daily Milker and do we have a bumper packed issue for you ? Of course we do do me and Dawn Green ever let you down darling readers the answer is a one word answer with two letters it begins with an N and ends with a O put quite simply no it’s been a chilly old day here in our Holborn studies and Dawn got an email from that vile paper the Daily Shun wanting to know where we are based I suspect they are jealous of our wonderful page five stars to bad they are our stars and you can’t have a single one of them . So today and tomorrows edition will be a look at some of our past moments from our wonderful page five stars it will feature some highlights from the past some unseen pics and all the usual beautiful page five stars⭐️⭐️⭐️ as always in what has become our tradition I will make the first pic my very beautiful Co Editor Dawn Green and of course Jodie Hot Sauce , Janablack , I Pra , Cindy Lace , Sweet Sue , sweet Cassie , Madison , Sandra Clapham , Monique , the luscious and lovely happy little Lucy not so little as it happens (ouch Dawn really not need for that I was talking about Lucy’s height what did you think I meant honestly dear readers one track mind ) so darlings a blast from the past the lovely Sweet Cassie whom I’m very happy to say has come back to us can you see that happy smile as Cassie steps out of our changing room a blonde bombshell in a leather dress you notice the lovely smile too Cassie loves being a page five star ⭐️ and all the enjoyment that comes with a long slow sensuous milking so pleased to have Cassie back on our books . Never one to shy away next came the outstanding Jodie Hot Sauce a bigger page five star ⭐️you would be hard to find in every sense of the word . I know what your wondering dear readers and what naughty thoughts you have who stepped into our little pleasure zone next well well my dear readers well what a surprise it was Madison every page five star at times needs a little relief and who, am I to argue with that sentiment . Next to come all the way from Manchester ( would have been so much quicker on the HS2 but never mind Sue who knows maybe one day it will be finished . Well my wonderful readers and Stars that’s part one of threes xxx

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supreme-leader-stoat · 2 years

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The Headsman's Daughter

Written in response to @urbanfantasyinspiration's character prompt, "A princess who apprenticed under an executioner."

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Once, as there has often been, there was a kingdom. Its king was great and terrible, as kings often are. He rode forth in might and power, and many fell before his sword. He spent much time feasting, and drinking, and bidding minstrels sing his praises in the court and on the temples' steps. He had three daughters by women who served in the palace, but no heir, for his wife was barren.

And though he brought much tribute, he was a harsh master, and the kingdom suffered greatly under his rule. The sun scorched the tender shoots as they sprouted, and the cattle died in the fields, and babes were born weak and sickly and did not cry as they should. There was great unrest in all the land, and the headsmen kept their blades ever sharp, for murder and theft abounded.

And the king grew afraid, for the people began to murmur and plot against him. And he threw himself before the mercy of the gods, such as it was, saying "Spare your servant! Tell me what I must do to save my life! The anger of the people grows, and they will water their fields with my blood!"

"Your doom is assured," came a creaking voice, like a tree near to breaking. And the king looked up, and beheld a raven of purest black perched upon the windowsill. Once more he pressed his forehead to the ground. "Please, spare me!" he plead again.

"Your doom is assured," the raven replied.

"I beg of you!"

"Your doom is assured," it intoned a third time, its voice unmoved.

"I will do anything! I will give whatever you ask! Whatever I must sacrifice, even if it is half my kingdom, let it be so!"

The bird paused, preening its feathers as it considered the king's words. At long last, when the king was sure that his nerve would break, it answered him. "Give to the gods of your own flesh and blood. Deliver your three daughters to the high priest, to do with as he is commanded. They will be sent out to live among the people, to parents who can bear no children, and in this way the anger of the crowds will be quieted for a season. Do not forget what I have said to you this day."

The king waited until the sound of flapping wings had fully faded, then leapt to his feat, shouting for his servants to attend him. His daughters were taken from their mothers' arms with much weeping, and bathed in scented waters, and garbed in the finest of silks and pearls to be delivered as living sacrifices to the gods. And if the king felt much grief at their going, then it was nothing compared to the joy and relief he felt at his salvation.

The high priest received them and cast lots, that he might know the will of the gods. And these are the orders he gave, and what came of them:

The eldest daughter was sent to live with an aged farmer and his wife. And though the work of farming was hard, she found happiness anew, for the farmer and his wife had good hearts and loved her as their own daughter. And the gods smiled upon them, and for three years the whole of the kingdom was blessed with bumper crops the likes of which have not been seen before or since.

The middle daughter was sent to live with a midwife, who was also a widow, for her husband had been killed before the two of them could have a child. And though she wept bitterly for her mother, and her life in the palace, the two of them found comfort in each other's arms and satisfaction in their work. And the gods smiled upon them, and for six years the babes of the kingdom were born whole and hearty. And many great warriors were born in those summers, and many great beauties in those winters, and many others of great renown besides. Indeed, the queen herself bore the king a son, and he would be remembered as one of the better rulers of that line (though that comes later).

And as for the youngest daughter, she whose name means "Thistle" in our tongue, she who was much beloved by the people as a child for her beauty, she was sent to live with with an executioner. And though she remembered her life in the palace, she eventually came to call the headsman "father," and his wife "mother," and if asked who she was would answer truthfully that she was their daughter.

Life was hard for Thistle, for headsmen were much hated in those days. When she left the house, she went about with a veil over her face, as was considered proper for the daughter of a headsman. Her father often had to take work as a knacker to keep them fed, carting away and collecting animal carcasses, which her mother showed her how to break down into tallow and glue and soap.

As soon as she was old enough, Thistle's father began training her in his craft. He taught her to use a whetstone to sharpen a sword. He set her to chopping firewood alongside him to strengthen her arms. He had her help him slaughter the pigs they raised in their yard, to accustom her to death, and afterwards showed her how to wash away the blood and clean herself to ward off plague.

The first time Thistle accompanied her father to an execution, she did not join him on the scaffold; she would not yet intrude upon that sacred ground. She stood to the side, in the shadow of the platform, and watched the crowd. They were many of them drunk, and all of them full of anger. And though they cheered as the sword fell, the wrath in their eyes did not abate, and instead turned toward her father, and Thistle was much disturbed.

"Father," she asked softly as they trudged home, side by side, two of her short strides to one of his, "why do the people hate you? Do they not ask this of you? Do you not serve the judge, as he serves the king?"

He did not meet her eyes, for he was in truth a timid man, but he pondered long and hard before answering her. "Is it better to lose your life, or to lose your arm?"

"Your arm, of course, though I'd rather lose neither."

"Of course. And is it better to lose your arm, or to lose your hand?"

"Your hand, of course, though I'd rather lose neither."

"Of course. The law, too, is like this. The judge bears the weight of sentencing, so that the people can live in peace. I bear the weight of death, so the judge may live in peace. And though the people may hate me, and shun us for it, they know in their hearts that they do not wish to bear the weight I carry for them."

Indeed, Life was hard for Thistle and her family. But even still, the gods smiled upon them.

Three years after Thistle left the palace, the earth once again refused to give up its bounty, and famine gnawed at the people. But though they drew their belts tighter, the headsman's family did not starve, for long had they learned to live with little, and the deaths of many animals brought their family good business, and pigs can be fed on nearly anything.

Six years after Thistle left the palace, a plague swept the land, and struck many lame, and others dead, and stricken worst of all were the young and the old. And the headsman's family grew afraid, for Thistle's mother was with child, and their hearts grew fainter still when the headsman himself took ill.

But none know better how to ward away sickness than those who work with dead things, and the headsman's family was never wanting for soap. Thistle's mother gave birth to a boy, and his parents gave him a name meaning "Flaxen," for such was the color of his hair, though his family more often called him "Flax." And when he was born Thistle gazed upon his reddened face, and observed the curl of his fingers, and held him in her arms, and she was overcome with great wonder.

The fever eventually left Thistle's father, but from then on he often found it hard to stand, and the strength of his arm failed him. And so Thistle took up his blade, and acted in his stead, and for three years she bore the blood of the law and of the people upon her hands.

Nine years after Thistle left the palace, the spirit of the people rose in anger once again, for their ears were full of the cries of the hungry and the sick. And they stormed the palace in the night, and stripped the king of his sword, and his royal robes, and bound him and brought him out to face the people. And they said to one another, "What shall we do with him?" And each one answered in turn, "Send for the headsman's daughter, who lives with her father outside the city. Have her come at once, and deliver his punishment." And so runners were sent, and roused Thistle from her sleep, and bid her dress herself, and brought her to where the people were waiting.

And the people thrust the king's sword into her hands, saying "Kill this man and deliver us justice, for we have suffered greatly at his hands."

And Thistle looked upon the king and knew him, though he did not know her by her face, for she wore her veil. And she found that she had no love for this man, and so it was not love but duty that stayed her hand.

And she turned to the crowd, saying "Would you have me kill this man? Is this justice?"

And the people replied in one voice, saying "Yes! Kill him! It is better that one suffer than many!"

And she answered them, saying "For years I have lived among you, bearing sins for your sake! But I will not bear the weight of this judgement! I ask you again: do you judge this man guilty? Would you have me kill him in your stead?"

And the people again answered her, "Yes! Kill him! Bear this sin for us! He has brought the anger of the gods on us, and our children weep in their beds!"

And so she turned, and with the king's own sword she struck him down. (And it was as the raven had foretold, for in seeking to escape his doom, the king himself had assured it.)

At that the bloodlust of the people was awakened, and again they stormed back into the palace. They brought out the prince, chanting "Death! Death! Death to the blood of the king! Let there be none left who carry on his name!" And they presented him to Thistle, saying "Kill him! Bear this sin for us as well!"

And Thistle beheld him, he who was her blood-brother, and she saw that he was scarcely older than Flax, and that he was crying.

She thrust the king's sword into the stones, and there it stuck fast. "No," she said.

And the people's voices rose in anger against her, but again she denied them. "No!" And as they surged forward she took up the king's sword and brandished it, though the tip had become blunted by the stones. "You have made me your hand of justice and given me a sword! Now, which among you will bear its weight instead?! Which among you will take this blood from me?!" As she said this, she tore away her veil, and the dawn's light revealed her face to all the people.

The people stopped before her, for the anger in her eyes was great and terrible. The eldest among them looked upon her beauty and knew her as the king's youngest daughter, whom they had once loved. And their hearts grew ashamed, for they knew that they had made of her both kinslayer and kingkiller. And so the people turned away from her in fear and grief, and covered their faces in the growing light, and left the palace to return to their homes.

And Thistle swept the prince up in her arms, and marched into the castle, and delivered him back into his mother's embrace. And she declared herself regent until he came of age, both as conqueror and blood-relative of the king, and none dared challenge her. And she sent for her father and mother and brother, and had them brought to the palace, where she saw that they were well cared for. (And her two brothers, one of blood and one of bond, became the best of playmates, and Flax was perhaps the most loyal of all the prince's friends until the end of his days.)

Thistle ruled well, and with justice and mercy, for she had held the power of life and death in her hands. And even after the prince was crowned king, he leaned often on the wisdom of his elder sister. And in this way, that kingdom gained one of the best kings it had ever known.

The end.

#my writing

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