#hooded muffler

[mockerycrow]

Frozen Fingertips [1/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist - part two

Summary: You and Simon are in an extremely cold and snow covered area of Russia and manage to get separated from everyone else when a blizzard comes out of nowhere. Ghost helps keep you alive.

[WARNINGS: Light descriptions of developing hypothermia and frostbite, angst, hurt/comfort, ghost is actually worried.]

THE EXTREMELY COLD air bit at the little skin that’s exposed on your face and invades your lungs, nearly feeling like it’s sending frost to bite at the most inner corners of your esophagus. Dressed in snow boots, a snow suit as well as a snow jacket with a bullet proof vest, a thick scarf, two layers of gloves—a pair of thin gloves and then your snow gloves—as well as a beanie with your hood up. You tried to tie your scarf in such a way where it covers the lower portion of your face, but movement has made the fabric crumble down. The conditions of the snowy forest you’re trudging through are harsh; the snow is several feet deep, nearly up to your mid-thigh, causing you to have to quite literally pull your leg through dense snow, and of course you forgot your sunglasses for this trip. The bright sun is shining onto the snow surrounding you, successfully blinding you, causing you to squint until you give yourself a headache.

You have no idea what temperature it is, but all you know is that the fact that you’re moving through the snow is the only thing getting you through this. Your nose burns from the cold and so do your cheekbones, and any other skin that is exposed. You hold your rifle tighter to your chest in an attempt to maintain warmth, and despite all of your protective clothing, you don’t feel warm at all. You’re traveling with Ghost, while Soap, Price, and Gaz are infiltrating a nearby safehouse, owned by Makarov. You and Ghost are making your way to the exfil point after providing overwatch—the weather was beginning to pick up, blocking your line of sight. You shudder as some snow lands on the tip of your nose and melt, but nearly immediately freeze due to the temperature.

You keep dragging your feet through the snow, one foot after the other, trying to think warm thoughts to keep you going. Your radio crackles to life and Ghost’s muffled voice comes through; he’s only in front of you, but the snow can act as a sound muffler. “Doin’ alright?” His voice is like a wave of warmth washing over you, and you close your eyes for a moment as you walk. You open them and mumble, “Freezing my ass off, sir.” Ghost lets out a huff that almost sounds like a chuckle. “Keep moving, sergeant. You’ll keep your strength and warmth up.” You don’t bother to respond as you continue to trudge on. The wind begins to pick up as well as the falling snow slowly turns into a mini blizzard. “This is Price to Ghost and [Name], how copy?”

You don’t bother to respond as you’re focused on keeping yourself upright—when did you begin to feel so tired? “Loud and clear, Price. The weather’s pickin’ up.”

When did you begin to feel so.. warm? ..What?

You blink and suddenly you find yourself collapsed into the snow. You don’t question it, because you’re quite comfortable. The coldness of the snow feels good against your suddenly warm skin. You’re violently shivering, but you don’t mind. You’re warm. A pair of hands grab your coat, flipping you over so you’re no longer face down into the snow. You whine and weakly try to push whoever is touching you because their gloved hands are on your face, brushing snow off of your skin. “Stop,” You slur, your voice wobbling. Your hearing tappers out for a moment, and apparently so does your vision because the next thing you know—you find yourself in a cabin.

The first thing you feel is warmth—and then extreme coldness, and then numbness, and it’s a repeating cycle, causing you constantly shiver where you’re laying. Your limbs feel so heavy and you just want to stay laying down, but you’re hit with the thought of Ghost. Did he bring you here? Or did something happen, causing someone to take you? Your thoughts are in disarray, that much is clear. You can’t even form a coherent thought. You blink slowly as to focus your gaze, and you see a tall and bulky figure bent down by a fireplace, which you’re laying near. Huh. You’re somehow stuffed inside your sleeping bag. The figure’s back is turned to you, so whatever they’re doing, you’re unable to see. “C’mon,” The rough voice hisses. Oh, it��s Ghost.. Duh. You let out a choked noise as a weird pain of blistering pain radiates through your skull, and you’re vaguely aware of the feeling of your blood quickly rushing back into your fingertips, the humming sensation in your fingers nearing painful. They were lightly tingling before.

You blink again; time has passed. There’s a fire going now, a steady one, but it’s clearly not enough. Not with the way Ghost’s intense eyes are staring into yours, him saying something about you staying awake, something about how he knows you want to sleep—which he’s right about—but you can’t, and that you shouldn’t. You nearly wanna reach over and smack him about that, and you would have if you could move without the sluggish and heavy weighted feelings in your limbs. Who is he, to tell you, what you can and cannot do?? “I’m tired, Ghost.. Lemme sleep.” You croak out—your voice is trembling and you don’t understand why, but your body doesn’t give you enough energy to properly question it and you lay your head back down, trying to turn it away.

“Need you to keep those eyes open, [Name],” Ghost’s voice is suddenly.. very, very, very close to your ears. Your eyes flutter back open—you don’t even remember closing them—and you’re face to face to his mask. His brown eyes burrow into yours, nearing unreadable, but one thought pops up when your head allows it; he’s worried. Ghost is worried. “M’here,” You mutter, feeling yourself shake in your sleeping bag. “I’m here.” You watch as Ghost gets up from his position, which was looming over you, to add more fuel to the fireplace. The fire cracks and sparks alive once again, and you never noticed it died down. Must’ve been a while, of you being in and out. Your head is finally allowing you think more clearly. “How..” You lick your dry and cold lips before continuing. “How long has it been?”

Ghost looks over at you, pausing for a moment before poking at the burning wood with a fireplace poker. “You don’t know?” He questions, his voice tense. Bad sign. You not remembering how much time has passed is a very bad sign. You shake your head, tugging your sleeping bag closer to your body in a sluggish manner. Ghost’s quiet as he moves back over to you, grabbing his own sleeping bag which is tightly rolled up and attached to his backpack. Ghost begins to unravel the fabric and unzip it, in an attempt to make a blanket. “Well, a big blizzard started up as we were headin’ to the RV. Found you face down in the snow a bit behind me, and knew you..” He trails off as pulls the zippers down, hesitating in his movements. “..knew you needed to rest, needed help.”

You press your lips together because it’s so clear Ghost is avoiding what he wanted to say; what you both know what he meant. A harsh shiver rolls out through your body, harsh enough to make your vision spin, causing Ghost to huff. He drapes his unzipped sleeping bag over your body, tucking the extra fabric under your body. You groan quietly and you shut your eyes for a moment. Ghost is shifting stuff around and you his gloves fingers push your hat up ever so slightly and then you feel.. skin pressing against your forehead?? Your eyes open sleepily to the sight of Ghost’s mask pushed to above his nose, exposing his scarred lips and cheeks. You open your mouth to say something but a quiet whimper leaves you as your vision swims again—not giving you a moment to think about his kiss against your forehead. “Cold.” He mutters as he grabs the edge of his mask and pulls it back over the rest of his face, down to his neck. You watch as Ghost takes off his scarf and wraps it around your neck instead, and then he lays down next to you and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. You try to question why he’s doing this, but Ghost is already three steps ahead of you. “You’re not of any help if you’re dead, love.” His voice is steady, but it’s on edge—like he’s scared.

You shut your eyes and you lean into his everlasting warmth, and you decide to not point out how his gloved fingers are stroking the exposed skin of your face in a soothing manner.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2022 #cod #modern warfare ii #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #cold trope #tropes #ghost angst #angst #hurt/comfort #mw2 #mwii #cod mw ghost #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #crowd favorite

[murdrdocs]

an order | e.munson

description. there’s nothing eddie loves more than spreading you open before a horror movie. well, besides bossing you around.

includes. SMUT 16+, dom!eddie, slightly innocent!reader, fingering, ring kink!!, maledom, sweet but bossy eddie, AFAB!reader, fem!reader, fem pronouns, whiny!reader, praise, slight orgasm denial, extremely slight size kink (r is mentioned to have smaller hands than eddie), pet names (princess, baby, etc.), they watch halloween :), mention of parents overhearing but no walking in or anything

a/n. legit wrote this to get the eddie juices flowing. i wanna write him but idk what to write so ,,, send requests if you’d like :D

word count. 1.1k+

“Keep ‘em open for me, baby.” A large hand comes to your knee, swatting at the flesh and thereby prompting your legs apart.

“‘M trying, Eddie!” You didn’t mean to whine. Seriously. But you were truly trying so hard and of course Eddie didn’t understand that. No matter how many times he would murmur ‘I know’ in your ear, he didn’t truly know.

You pout, flexing your hand which holds Eddie’s many rings. They’re entirely too big, and they almost slide off. They would if it wasn’t for your smaller hand being wrapped around Eddie’s bicep, nails digging into his skin, attempting to steady yourself and his rings.

“Try a little harder.” He says. It’s not exactly mean, but it isn’t nice either. It’s an order. Plain and simple.

And you follow it.

You muster up your strength and use it to keep your legs separate. Accidentally, you don’t realize that all of your strength is going to your legs which doesn’t leave much for your hand. It’s almost too late, but you notice the rings slipping just at the right moment and you re-flex your hand, steadying the jewelry.

“There you go.” Eddie coos as he presses a kiss to your cheekbone. “Knew you could do it.”

You’re barely able to smile appreciatively before Eddie’s fingers are moving again. His index and middle finger slide down your cunt, separating your puffy lips and dispersing your slick along the way.

Your head lulls back, hitting Eddie’s shoulder and exposing your neck to him. Eddie doesn’t waste any time. His lips find your neck, kissing and sucking and biting. You want to tell him to stop, tell him that your parents would be furious if they saw the bruises. But you barely have half a mind, and the half that is present is focused on how good Eddie is making you feel.

His pointer and middle are now inside of you, pumping and curling. Your hips have a mind of their own, probably the half that your head is missing. They push themselves towards Eddie’s hand, grinding up into his ministrations.

A soft moan comes from your lips, and then another whine when Eddie’s other hand comes to the outer edge of your pelvis, pushing down and bringing your hips back to your bed.

“Don’t be greedy, princess. Take what I give ya.”

Okay that. That was scolding.

Yet, you do as you’re told, as always.

Your legs stay open, your hips stay down.

Eddie rewards you. He moves his hand from your pelvis, hovering over the area at first but when you don’t move, he brings it lower to your cunt.

You watch through hooded eyes as he singles out his middle finger, lowering the tip until it presses against your clit. You have to restrain yourself, nails digging into Eddie’s bicep as you attempt to keep your cruel position.

It pays off because Eddie begins to rub wide, slow circles.

You mewl, back arching but your hips staying in place.

“Eddie,” You breathe. “Eddie!”

“Hmm?” He sounds casual, unphased. Opposite of you.

But when you turn your head, eyes finding his, you can see the true look on his face. Pupils blown, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead which sticks his bangs to his skin, his lips parted as shallow breaths come from behind them.

“Kiss me.” You demand.

He does. It’s sloppy, swapping spit and clashing teeth.

But it’s so nice, and acts as a muffler for your moans.

That is, until Eddie’s fingers sink deeper within you and hit that spot. Your back arches and your mouth pulls away from Eddie’s to let out a moan that is entirely too loud. Especially when your parents are just a few doors down and as far as they know, you’re watching a horror film on your own.

Your eyes catch Eddie’s and for a second, he looks scared. His eyes widen and his fingers almost halt, but they keep moving. He listens for a second, as do you. But luckily enough, there was a particularly loud scream from ‘Halloween’ on the TV and your moan died behind it.

When there is no sound from within your house, you sigh.

Happily, Eddie’s fingers speed up, almost as if he’s celebrating the close call. His wide circles on your clit turn into tight ones, picking up in pace. His fingers pump faster, still sinking deep and curling with each thrust.

Your breaths pick up, free hand gripping the edge of your pillow.

“You close?” Eddie asks, voice in your ear. You nod.

“Okay!” He chirps and you can see the smile on his face without having to turn around.

A similar one comes to your face, but it turns into just an open mouth when your belly begins to tighten and it becomes harder to hold your legs open.

Eddie can sense your inner turmoil. “Just a little longer. Hold on a little longer for me.”

You groan, gnawing on your bottom lip just a little too hard. When you lick them, you feel the wet slide of blood. “Don’t know if I can, Eddie.”

“You can. I know it.”

So you do. You hold it in, keeping everything together until Eddie gives you that cue.

And when he does, everything releases. Your legs close around his hands, the rings fall off and thud on your bed, your hips lift and chase anything they can get. You’re breathing heavy, moans tumbling from your lips and into the air around you.

Something gory is happening on the TV, you can hear the screams behind the thudding in your head. It masks your own sounds, which you’re grateful for.

Eddie helps you ride through it. Two fingers unsheathing from your cunt and replacing the lone digit that was circling your clit. He returns to the wide circles, and his lips return to your neck. Kissing over the protruding veins, and marks that are beginning to show.

When you come down, he removes his hands completely, allowing your legs to fully close together. He places a final kiss to the corner of your mouth and you can see his fingers disappear behind your head.

There’s a sucking sound, and then a dramatized pop.

Eddie’s hands find your hips and he helps turn you around until your legs are thrown over his hips and you’re sitting between his thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself up so that you’re sitting in his lap in a hug. The security of his arms around your midriff soothes you, and his palm rubbing up and down your back lull you to a relaxative state.

That is until Eddie curses.

“Fuck. We missed the best part!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #celeste writes st

[oozedninjas]

This is more on the fluffy end, but could easily turn naughty if you choose. (￣▽￣)b

Normally shy crush randomly sitting on bayboys lap? They want attention and are determined to get it, flustered and all!

Also, hello! I love your posts. Thank you. (* ´ ▽ ` *)ﾉ

Reader sits on their lap to get their attention!!

2007 / NSFWish / Suggestive/boys are 25 and love to see you squirming for them

Leo is cleaning his katana when he feels your hands sliding over his shoulders. Immediately recognizing the touch, he glances at you.

"Hi, love. I thought our date was in another hour," he notes, a glimpse of a playful taunt in his tone.

"I got impatient," you say, sitting on his lap in one motion. "I want you now."

Your bravado stuns him for half a heartbeat before dissolving into a smirk. He places the sword on the side to pull you further onto his lap. His voice is a hot whisper near your lips. "Show me how much."

Raphael is fixing Turtle Movil's muffler when he hears your steps approaching over the smooth asphalt of the garage.

"I'll be with ya in a sec, doll!" he voices from under the van.

You humm, stepping on the edge of Mikey's skateboard, currently serving as support for Rafael to slide under the car. You roll him out.

"Hey! he whines sitting up, just half a second before you sit on his lap.

His breath hitches as you straddle him, shell pressed to the van's side.

"Sorry Raph, I don't feel like waiting," you breathe, trapping his mouth.

Donatello is so invested in talking about this new substance that he doesn't notice you stripping. When you press your bare chest to his shell and drag your hands over his plastron, his words trail off as he tenses.

"Hmm, darling?"

"Yeah?"

"W-what are you doing?"

You smile, turning his swivel chair to you, wasting no time sitting down on his lap.

"I'm listening," you mutter into his ear. "You're so hot when you talk about deadly substances. But I'd love to hear something a bit sweeter."

"Yeah? Like what?" he manages, heart racing.

You lick a stripe over his pulse line, eliciting a whimper from him.

"Like that."

Mikey was chilling, sitting on the worn-out couch, waiting for the TV to load what looked like a video. You placed your hands over his eyes.

"Guess who it is?"

"My Sugar bun?!" he says, turning back excitedly. "Hi! You're just in time, I'm about to start a new game! Let me show you," Mikey reaches for the Xbox controller, turning his back to you.

"Sure! Is the Brotherhood joining soon?"

He giggles at the nickname. "Nah, they're out."

You frown. "Out? All of them?"

"Yeah. Leo's training with his new partner, Raph's out with Casey… and Don's helping April cover some tech issues or something. Oh, and dad's sleeping," Mikey explained idly, choosing the abilities for the playable character.

"Wait, we'll be alone here for… a while?" you venture.

"Yup! So, you want to play with me?"

You smirk, climbing onto his lap. "Love to!"

He dodges you, his eyes glued to the TV. After a moment of contemplation, you break into a mischievous grin.

"But how about we make it more interesting? The loser has to take off an article of clothing for each game over."

You tug at his orange hood, and his eyes dart to you, a mischievous smile growing on his face. "Aw baby, you know you won't beat me, right?"

"I'll take the risk," you say, kissing his snout.

#let's pray for Splinter to keep sleeping. Amen 🙏 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt smut #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt donatello 2003 #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello 2007 #tmnt 2k7 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt 2k3 #leo tmnt 2007 #raph 2007 #tmnt raph 2007 x reader #tmnt raph 2007 #tmnt leo 2007 x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2k7 x reader #tmnt 2007 x reader #twenty something ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse mikey

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst

One of the great unknowns about the 1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst is exactly how many cars were built. Estimates put the total as low as 485, and as high as 502 cars. Regardless of what the figure actually is, the car itself is a pretty special piece of machinery.

The 300 Hurst is a giant of a car at 19′ in length. All of the Hursts rolled off the production line finished in Spinnaker White. The cars were then shipped to the Hurst factory in Warminster, Pennsylvania, where a substantial transformation was performed. The first change to be made was the removal of the standard Chrysler steel hood skin, which was replaced with a fiberglass unit. This featured a decorative hood scoop and the obligatory set of recessed hood locks. The deck lid was also removed, and once again, a fiberglass replacement, complete with a spoiler integrated with the rear quarter panels, was also installed. The White paintwork was complimented by the addition of Satin Tan highlights and contrasting pinstripes, and the wheels were adorned with the same Satin Tan color in the centers. This Hurst is a clean car, with a small area of rust visible in the lower section of the driver’s side front fender, and surface corrosion present on the car’s underside. The Spinnaker White paint appears to be in good condition, but there has been some deterioration of the Satin Tan paint on both the hood and the deck lid. The exterior trim and chrome all look good, while the tinted glass is close to perfect.

The 300 Hurst was a premium car at a premium price, so naturally, it required a premium interior. In this case, seat upholstery was available in a single type and color. Continuing the exterior theme, the color is Saddle Tan, and the material is leather. The plush front seats are not standard 300 items but have been pilfered from the Imperial parts bin. While the original intention was for a Hurst shifter to be part of the interior features, this is something that never eventuated. The interior of this Hurst is close to perfect, with a single discolored spot on the dash pad being the most obvious fault. The rest of it presents in virtually as-new condition, and as befits a luxury car, it is loaded with luxury touches. These include air conditioning, power windows, six-way power seats, cruise control, a remote trunk release, and I think that there also might be an 8-track player hanging under the dash.

The 300 Hurst was the biggest of the muscle cars, and as such, it needed a big motor to get it moving. In this case, it is the TNT 440 engine, pumping out 375hp. The Hurst also features a 727 TorqueFlite transmission, a 3.23 rear end, power steering, power brakes, heavy-duty rear springs and front torsion bars, and sway bars. The exhaust was a full dual system, ending in quad tips. This Hurst hasn’t seen a lot of recent use, and documentation confirms that between 1986 and 2019, it managed to accumulate a grand total of 20 miles! Since being removed from its climate-controlled storage, it has undergone a meticulous mechanical check and recommissioning, and it is now said to run and drive perfectly. The owner does suggest that while the tires look good, they are pretty olds, and replacing them might be a good idea. He also says that the Hurst may need mufflers fairly soon. The car does come with a fair collection of documentation, including the original Build Sheet and Window Sticker, a pristine Certi-Card, Owner’s Manual, as well as dealer paperwork and other assorted items.

While there has always been some question surrounding the build totals for the 1970 300 Hurst, one thing is certain, and that is that there are less than 300 cars in existence today. Pristine examples can fetch sums in excess of $30,000, and even a rough example in need of restoration can still sell for anywhere around $13,000. This one doesn’t need a major restoration, but it does require some cosmetic work. I’m not sure where bidding is eventually going to go with this one, but I would suspect that it will be somewhere around the low to mid $20,000 mark. Even at that price, it probably wouldn’t be a bad buy.

#Chrysler 300 Hurst #chrysler 300 #chrysler #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld

[saytrrose]

Can we see More about your racing AU please?

Looks so amazing and i love It so much

I do suppose I could share the character design line up!

I really just need to finish designing all the go karts, (atleast most are done!) and then I can make proper cards for them and really get into the written details.

To be honest it’s a little hard to just ramble about info and details without specific questions to go off of, so I’ll try my best hhh

for starters, the tent? Not a tent!

It’s actually a stadium, the amazing digital race!

And rooms? Sort of tweaked, they are more like each character owns a personal garage, a large open space where they store their vehicles and then have a loft above that showcases their cozy safe havens. Bed, entertainment, basically a small room in a much larger one.

I haven’t revealed Ragatha, Zooble or Gangles karts yet but I’ll go ahead and just talk about all of them!

Caine:

Caine has a motorcycle, specifically one inspired off of the motorcycle I’m saving up for this summer, a Kawasaki Eliminator. It’s a cruiser, I’m thinking he has a 600cc model but considering Bubble is his right hand man and operates as the races pit crew- he’s definitely tinkered with Caines bike, making adjustments and improving the engine. God only knows what the little psycho did, but it’s a damn good bike that’s not supposed to rev as loud as it does.

Pomni:

Her kart is inspired off a Volkswagen Beetle, seemed very VERY Pomni to me. Her car mimics her outfit design a lot, I might do some color changes to be honest but it will be super minimal, it’ll be final when the cards are done! She definitely stops at the pit the most often despite her placement in a race, are my tires okay?? Do I need my oil?? I know you just filled it but it went down- is anything damaged?? Sweetie you did one lap..

Jax:

Jesus Christ he has a giant supercharger on the hood of his car, and he is absolutely one of those annoying mfs that reva their engine OBNOXIOUSLY loud all the time like he’s super cool. If you’re wondering who most of the skid marks on the track are from, that’s also Jax. Hes the best as drifting, and he loves to show that off. His car isn’t based too much on an actual vehicle?? I stared at Mario karts and pieced it together, but also gave it a very sports car look, the wing on the back fr fr I think Jax would dig that.

Kinger:

OHHSOSK I was so creative with his little wagon,,, it’s castle shaped!! And the best part? Operates like a rocket. In the back past the battlement (the crown looking thing you see atop castle pillars) ARE GIANT exhaust pipes and yes, they do spit fire !! Operates like a rocket. It’s very cool! (Also he has a great muffler because unlike Jax he’s considerate of others hearing 💔) Oh also, he has one of those silly horns, I forgot how to describe it but you can just look at how I drew it on his kart and you’ll know heheh!

Zooble:

Our second motorcyclist, owns a trike! If you don’t know what that is, picture a bike with training wheels but super badass. 3 wheels! It’s inspired off the Harley Davidson freewheeler, I like that design a lot but it’s def not actually a Harley because istg when you buy those bikes your just paying for the fancy name brand- expect it to be in the shop all the time, smh not good- BUT ANYWAY!! The looks are inspired off it though and I can’t wait for this one because it’s just as crazy kooky as Zoobles design is.

Gangle:

Her kart is based on my favorite car, classic style but not too cool because you can bet she has anime stickers on the back and a decal that says “please let me merge before I start crying.” It’s similar to a karmann ghia convertible, 1963. Cherry red (so so pretty) She always has the top down, unless competing because damn you gotta go fast. That car itself is really slow, top speed normally is 68mph, however people have modified them enough to get up to 120mph. Thats still pretty slow compared to others, but her kart only reflects the appearance of the ghia! It’s much faster and I assume Bubble works on all their vehicles if asked to.

Lastly, Ragatha:

Our 3rd motorcyclist. 4 Karts, 3 cyclists. Her bike is a futuristic style, if you want a good idea then look up “icare bike”! Not so much a straight forward posture, she leans over ofc, you’ll likely get the idea when you see her bike. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten too into her design yet because I haven’t started drawing but!! Dark blue leds,, everywhere yes yes so cool ❤️

Sorry that’s so much 😭 but yeah! Just need to finish 3 kart designs for you guys and I can make official ref cards 👀

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #Caine #tadc Caine #Pomni #tadc Pomni #Jax #tadc Jax #kinger #tadc Kinger #Zooble #tadc Zooble #gangle #tadc gangle #Ragatha #tadc Ragatha #tadc racing au

[hirocimacruiser]

FD3S

Armed with combat aero, a beautiful form reminiscent of a shop demo car

Cowboy Wholesale Center 2-25-7 Nakakasai, Edogawa-ku, Tokyo 134 03-5658-5555

Sharp nose and wedge shape

Shaped body line. The domestic product

with elegant styling that stands out from the car.

Although the FD3S RX-7 is very popular, the price of used cars has become much more affordable due to the increase in the number of cars and the impact of new car pricing. There is also a wide selection of tuned used cars, many of which have been finished with aero parts to give them a more aggressive look, and are very popular.

The same goes for the FD introduced here. From the flashy, wide-open front bumper to the huge rear wing and wheels, everything is made of Veilside, and the hood also features a VeilSide decal. The finish is perfectly reminiscent of a shop's demo car. That's no wonder; in fact, the previous owner of this FD was a staff member from Veilside. It's a Veilside Special that can almost be called a demo car.

The engine is stock, with only the intake and exhaust system tuned and fuel control using the F-con V, but the exhaust system has been replaced, from the front pipe to the muffler, so it runs smoothly. The power at high revolutions is also increased. In addition, not only the parts themselves, but also the installation and finishing are done with great attention to detail and are of high quality.

The light-tuned specs tend to be considered unappealing in terms of driving performance when compared to more aggressively modified cars, but the completeness of the car, including the exterior, is such that it is truly a professionally finished car. . Although it is a tuned used car, it is one that you can buy with confidence.

PIC CAPTIONS

●The seat is a 4-point Recaro SP-G+ Willans made of fiberglass. Like the exterior, the interior is of high quality, and it is a machine with high cost performance.

●The suspension is equipped with Bilstein-based coilovers. The wide and low form created by the drastically lowered vehicle height and veil side aero is truly impressive.

●The engine is basically normal. Air cleaner + intercooler pipe kit, front pipe + muffler, intake and exhaust system, and F-con V light tune specification.

INFO BOX

Infini RX-7 Type R

1995 model inspected April 2010

Mileage 19,000km 2,980,000 yen

Tune data: HKS Super Filter

HKS Racing Plug

HKS Front Pipe

Knight Sports Catalyst Straight Pipe

HKS Inter Cooler PipingKit

VeilSide Sports Muffler

HKS/F ConV

Bilstein Vehicle Adjustment

VeilSide Full Aero

Veilside Andrews wheels

Recaro SP-G Seat

#Veilside #Veilside RX7 #Veilside Combat FD3S #Veilside FD3S #Mazda RX7 #FD3S RX7 #FD3S #JDM

[seat-safety-switch]

Every afternoon, I hear a really bad-ass four-banger exhaust scream. It sounds like there’s a race car going down my block. Every time I hear it, I think that the kanjozoku – Osaka’s feared Honda Civic street racers – are getting ready to tear up my street and start a street fight with the cops. Our civilization will finally honour the small-displacement economy street racer in the way that it must in order to survive. As it gets closer, I realize it isn’t a high-revving Honda at all, but instead something industrial and rude.

And then they turn the corner and it turns out to be my middle-aged neighbour, Heng, who owns a 1995 Kia Sephia with a hole in the muffler. He’s not going fast, but he’s also not embarrassed of the meaty shriek either. Once, he saw me mowing the lawn as he went past, and dumped the clutch to give it a quick rev-up, making a sound that was not unlike a lawn tractor winning the Indy 500. I am already jealous of his expensive, modern car, which features amenities like “mirrors” and “overhead camshafts,” whatever those are. Why does he have to rub it in that way?

I don’t say anything. I can’t. He’s too fast, and he’s definitely too loud. Whatever I yell is just drowned out by the wall of sound generated by the muffler-less Ford/Mazda BP engine. By the time I can hear myself think, he’s turned the other corner and parked the car. The only thing I could do is to sabotage his car somehow: but how do you sabotage a car to make it quieter?

To answer my question, I turned to AI. Sorry, I mistyped that. I turned to Al, my former mechanic buddy who lives at the bar. Medical reasons. Anyway, Al suggested going onto eBay and picking up the cheapest turbocharger I could find. Heng wouldn’t mind having the extra zoot of a turbo, his iron-block four can easily take wastegate pressure without an intercooler, and Dodge applied to the government to have a turbocharger legally described as a kind of muffler. It’d keep the cops off of our block, which would make the $65 I passed to Shenzhen Farm Supply a work of philanthropy.

The next time I saw Heng, he was pulling a savage one-tire-fire down the street, the open differential straining to keep up with the mighty puff of additional air. He was genuinely fast now, and did not need to be loud. He did a perfect autocross tripod turn around the corner, and dropped into hyperspace as soon as the wheel straightened out. All I heard was the pleasant whoosh of a wastegate and the roar of a badly-worn wheel bearing, which was inaudible over the previous exhaust noise. I probably saved his life, I told myself as I returned to my garage. There’s no reason to have such a loud car in this day and age, I chuckled while firing up the open headers on my daily-driver Volare and watching the visible edge of the nitromethane flames play on what was left of the hood paint.

[enchanted-moura]

This verse always fascinated me, I see it as an attack on the priestesses of Venus/Inanna/Astarte at the time cause who else would be so ornamented

 In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, the rings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and all of the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, the fine linen, the hoods, the veils. And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be a stink; and instead of a girdle a tear; and instead of well set hair baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth; and burning instead of beauty. Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war. And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit upon the ground ( Isaiah 3:13-26 ).

[sofiiel]

New Headcannon popped up while working on a Barb x Jeff thing, but the HC is actually about Jeff and Eddie's friendship. With Barb x Jeff HC at the end. It's long, so under the cut

Ok so in my head, I picture Jeff as being raised by a single working dad and his grandma. His dad is kinda like a handyman, good at tinkering with things and math. (I totally based him off my mom's dad who I never got to me myself)

His dad also scored music and plays several instruments.

So when Corroded Coffin needs another guitarist, Eddie had a hunch on who to ask. He'd known off Jeff and had seen him around, mostly because everyone knew Jeff's dad as "that guy who fix my____" and in his case, he'd fixed the muffler on his mother's car before.

Eddie ventures out to talk to Jeff and finds him sitting on the hood of a car his Dad is working on, the car's a project classic that Jeff's dad customizes on the weekends.

But Jeff isn't just sitting there, no, he's playing a guitar and it sounds different. Eddie soon sees why as he gets close. The thing is all kinds of welded and built of mixed matched pieces.

Jeff basically built his own version of Frankenstein, and Eddie loses his shit over it and asks if he can give the guitar a whirl. It's the ugliest guitar Eddie had ever seen, but it had a sound he adored.

The two geek out over guitars which moves to amps which gets Jeff's dad in the conversation because surprise, surprise! (not really) He's worked on amps before.

Jeff ends up inviting Eddie inside to show him some of the other failed attempts and customizing his guitars and while in Jeff's room Eddie sees a lot of "nerd" memorabilia and collectibles, and a wallpaper of band posters.

Needless to say, Jeff was not only asked to play for Corroded Coffin but also invited to pre-Hellfire Club and introduced to the band.

But how did this pop up while working on a barb x Jeff thing?

Well.....Jeff home-brewed together a guitar one day that made the first one Eddie had saw look like it was carved from marble. This new creatures was a visual mess, but when played it sounded like heaven.

Jeff begs Eddie to use his artistic skill to paint it, sand it, polish it. To which Eddie happily agrees. But Jeff's got a very stick list of colors to use and patterns and the like. It's hell on earth for Eddie as he tries to produce the very complex and detailed results Jeff has in mind.

When the Guitar is finally finished, Eddie brings it to School with him, handing it over while saying "This thing better have name, I bled for this."

Jeff states that its name is "Holland"

Eddie is confused for a moment, until he notices A bored figure standing behind Nancy, clutching her books to her chest while bored and listening to King Steve and Wheeler flirt.

"Oh....ohhhh." Eddie whispers, before grinning and giving Jeff a playful shove.

Eddie takes back the Guitar stating "if that's the case it's not done, I left out a few details"

Holland the guitar is now the only Jeff uses anytime he needs an extra bit of luck, he uses it for every show, and it made a good story for He and Barbs wedding day.

#I 'em - I might have typed jess a couple of times in this lol penned this idea down here from my phone while at work 😂 #stranger things jeff #jeff headcannon #jeff st #jeff stranger things #jeff x barb #barb x jeff #corrodedbookworm #gingerguitar #honestly without the barb part makes a good start to jeff x eddie too #stranger things headcanons

[loquaciousquark]

[Fic] Muddle Through Somehow [1/1] - Complete

Rating: G Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke, Anders Word Count: 4400ish Summary: It's almost Satinalia. Unfortunately, the snowstorm raging down the mountain doesn't care in the slightest. Set well after Trespasser.

Christmas is my favorite time of year, and even though I didn't get to write much in 2022, I wanted to dedicate at least a little time to it in this nostalgic holiday season. Thank you all for sticking around, and thanks especially to @jadesabre301, as always, for her last-minute beta, for the title, and for her general inexhaustible cheerleading.

—

After so many years, they have this routine down pat. Fenris finds the cave first, the jerk of his head barely visible through the whipping snow, and she grips the back of his pack for balance and guidance both. The heightening snowdrifts collapse almost as soon as he stamps through them with dogged determination, the trees around them nothing more than stark leafless suggestions in the grey afternoon fog. Whistling winds knife ice straight down her spine, and Hawke grits her teeth against the urge to burn their way straight to shelter. They’ll need that strength yet.

By the time they reach the cave they’re both panting, sweat frozen to their cheeks behind the thousand layers of scarf and muffler and furred hoods. The cave is almost deafeningly silent, the roar of wind and snow so constant she’d nearly forgotten it, and Hawke’s ears ring as she heaves her pack to the ground and tries to break the ice from its latches.

There—a lick of flame and the metal gives way at last, the leather straps staining dark with meltwater. She fishes out two yellow draughts, both sealed with her own wax stamp, and tosses one to Fenris before downing the other immediately. He catches it without looking, pauses the unpeeling of his scarf to drink his own more slowly, and as always, his mouth twists around the bitter taste. As always, Hawke stifles her smile, accepts the glass bottle’s return, and neatly packs them back in her satchel.

—

Links: FF.net, AO3

#dragon age #fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #quark writes #let me dust off THAT tag

[sailtomarina]

The Pansy Side of Fire

Pansy x Charlie| @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 10: “Stay home with me.” | WC 1814 | Rating: T

She’d double and triple checked the potion stores, and still Pansy searched for another reason to stay inside and avoid the inevitable walk back to her cabin. The window outside the Hospital Ward showed falling Christmas Eve snow, ceaseless since early that morning. Maybe she could just hibernate here until spring.

She turned her eyes to the stretch of room before her. They only had space for a few beds, two of which were occupied with their slumbering patients. The likelihood of another poor sod finding the third was much too high given the dragon keepers’ propensity for fire.

No. She would find no home here. It was her cabin, or the floor, and she missed her flannel sheets with a ferocity that begged relief. Who knew the unbecoming material made such an excellent companion for Romania’s winter nights?

Pansy gathered up her belongings, assured that the patients would be well taken care of by her fellow Healer.

Cloak, check.

Gloves, check.

Muffler, check.

She topped the ensemble off with her strongest warming charm and set off.

Holy Circe and her Glorious Tits!

The initial blast of air to her face knocked down the hood of her cloak and sent her sleek bob into a whirlwind. She scrambled to regain control of the fabric, tugging it down her face and hunching against the wind as she made her way towards her destination. Whoever it was that planned the layout of the dragon reserve had much to answer for–it made absolutely no sense that the Healers were situated so far away from the Hospital Ward. 

Each step was hampered by the thick snow rising to her knees. She’d melt a path, if not for the rules guarding against unnecessary magic outside of buildings and emergencies. The energy ran the risk of attracting the attention of the inhabitant dragons, who were sensitive to the slightest fluctuations in their environment. Pansy would make do one step at a time. It wasn’t the worst she’d experienced.

At least she had her winter wear and charms to protect her. She shuddered at the thought of going without either, like the Muggle residents of the closest village to the reserve. On the rare occasion that she joined Melody, her fellow Healer, and the reserve employees for a drink at the pub, they all had to forgo excessive magic there, as well, so as to blend in. It wouldn’t do for locals to wonder how they could walk around in the cold with barely any protection.

“Pansy!”

She turned at the sound of her name towards a face she found uncomfortably attractive. He still wore his keeper uniform, leathers worn and shiny, stretching over ridiculous amounts of muscle that he showed off without even attempting to, leaning as he was against the railing of his own cabin.

Charles Weasley.

“Why don’t you join me for dinner?” he asked. Intense blue eyes held her own, and Pansy was tempted to accept.

She’d been tempted by him almost from the very first day she’d transferred to the reserve.

What little she had known of the wizard prior to her assignment came from legends at Hogwarts of a talented Seeker, a passionate advocate for magical creatures, and, of course, his family’s infamous hair and loyalties. She didn’t recall much of him when he visited Fourth Year during the Triwizard Tournament; she’d been too caught up in her petty obsession with Granger at the time.

The sight of Weasley standing alongside his fellow keepers as they were introduced struck her to this day. He’d stood confidently, arms crossed over his chest, not quite as tall as some but definitely the broadest. The thick muscles of his upper body fit the width of his shoulders and were offset by a trim waist that made clear how such a large man could fly circles around any and all competition. 

She’d kept her cool as they were introduced, treating him like everyone else with a detached professionalism. Parkinson witches did not show interest in Weasleys, no matter how attractive they might be.

Her resolve was tested her first day on the floor when he showed up with a fresh burn and a smile that set her knickers aflame.

How dare he look that good, covered in dust and blood as he was?

How dare he make her laugh with just a look and a comment. It was like he had a direct line to her particular brand of morbid humor. He’d shown her an old scar that he said reminded him of her namesake with how the edges rounded and changed color closer to the center.

She looked at him now, at the long red locks barely held in place by a tie and the figure he cut against the backdrop of his front door. 

“If you let me Floo home from yours, then you have a deal.”

There. That wasn’t too obvious, was it? She was simply interested in lessening her journey outdoors, and he presented the perfect solution.

“Sure, sure. Come on in from the cold.” His grin told her the ploy was not only recognized, but inconsequential. He’d offered, and she’d accepted. Simple as that.

He held the door open for her to step through first, and not even her warming charms could negate the relief she felt as the harsh winds were shut out and she was enveloped in the golden glow of the roaring fire in the hearth. 

“Charles Weasley, did you anticipate my acceptance?” She turned a suspicious eye his way. Given the state of the front room and the table already laden with dishes set for two and holly-wreathed candlesticks, he’d been prepared for company long before she happened by. Since when did he have the time to prepare everything? 

His eyes twinkled in merriment, but he said nothing, merely holding his hands out to take her belongings.

With a huff, she surrendered her satchel and shrugged off her cloak, turning to hang them on the charming wooden hooks near the door carved into the shape of dragon heads. She stepped closer to inspect them.

“Who made these?” They were remarkably realistic. She could easily tell each from the other, one a Swedish Short-Snout, then a Chinese Fireball, a Welsh Green, and a Hebridean Black. She chose the Antipodean Opaleye for her outerwear. She’d always admired their iridescent eyes.

“Oh, that’s my work.”

She swung back around in surprise, and he nearly preened at the attention.

“Well, well, Weasley, who knew you were such an artist,” she mused, her opinions of him once again adjusting for the favorable.

“I cook a mean roast, too,” he replied with a wink, gesturing towards the open chair he’d pulled out.

He waited until she sat, pressing the chair back in like a gentleman, before taking his own. It was the first she’d been afforded such manners since coming to Romania. There really hadn’t been any reason for it given the Mess Hall and its long benches. 

“Here, let me,” he offered, leaning forward to take the carving knife in hand.

“Not too large, please,” a request to which he winked and she flushed. Men.

Once their plates were full and they’d commenced eating, Pansy soon lost herself in conversation with the dragon keeper, his conversation easily flowing from one topic to the next. She’d known from his initial visit to the ward that he was bright, but she hadn’t realized just how well studied he was until now. He answered any and all of her questions regarding his work, and made several observations of his own in regards to the changes she’d made to the Hospital Ward since her transfer.

“We haven’t had any supply issues since you arrived. The potions you provide have been invaluable over the past months. I swear they’re more effective, too.”

Well, of course, they were. She brewed them herself whenever possible.

Regardless, she had near-daily visitations in the ward for everything from minor burns, to deep lacerations, and even severe concussions. Dragon work was life threatening no matter how many potions she shoved down their throats or how tirelessly she healed wound after wound.

“It is my job,” she said dryly.

“Still, we’ve had plenty of Healers in the past who were satisfied with the bare minimum. You actively go out of your way to ensure our safety, or get as close as possible to it.” He reached out to place his hand on hers where it rested against the table, and she stilled. 

Her plate was empty, the last drop of wine finished long ago. There wasn’t any reason why she should linger any longer.

“I should probably go.”

Bright eyes studied her, and Pansy wished she could take the words back. What if–

“Stay home with me.”

A breath caught in her throat.

Surely she misheard him?

“I’m sorry?” Her hand curled into a fist beneath his palm.

He responded by wrapping his large hand around hers in a brief squeeze. Heat worked up her arm and sent a pulse straight to her core.

“Stay home with me, at least for a while longer. I’d like to keep talking with you. Consider it my Christmas gift,” he quietly asked. He maintained eye contact, and Pansy wondered if this must be what it was like to be one of his dragons, enchanted by his overwhelming presence and unable to look away. She couldn’t help but be charmed by him.

She could reject him, make him work for it, like one of the more willful dragons. Pansy had a feeling he wouldn’t mind a bit of fire, that he might even relish it. She’d seen him in action and now knew why he held such a high rank among the other keepers. It wasn’t because he’d been at it the longest; it was because of his knowledge, his perseverance, his undying devotion to their wellbeing. He was tenacious in every aspect of their lives, and it showed.

Call it weariness, or simple loneliness during the holidays, but Pansy was tired of fighting. She’d lived her whole life presenting one face of Pansy Parkinson, and look what it had brought her: the scorn of most of her peers, difficulty landing a job anywhere near home, and now her current employment in the last place she thought she’d ever find herself. Her mother would cry over the callouses on her palms and fingers.

What if she said yes? What if she touched him back, like she wanted to? Would he prefer a fiery Pansy, instead? Maybe, she could be fiery in another way.

She flipped her hand and curled her fingers around his own.

His eyes lit up.

“Don’t you dare gloat, Charles Weasley.”

Amusement danced across his face in the form of a wide smile and dimples that deeply dotted each of his cheeks. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3.

I really, really like Charlie and Pansy individually, so wondered how they might be together. I think they’d get on, don’t you?

#hp yuletide bliss #christmas hp fest #harry potter fanfiction #pansy parkinson x charlie weasley #pansy x charlie #pansy parkinson #charlie weasley #hp rare pair

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Ford Torino Super Cobra Jet Drag Pack

1970 Ford Torino Super Cobra Jet Drag Pack. VIN: 0H38J127704. Nice Vermillion Paint. Hideaway headlights (inop). Great Running 429 V8 Engine (not the original engine 70-74 Block). Shaker hood (added). 4 Speed Manual Transmission. Manifolds / Dual exhaust / Flowmaster mufflers. Rear traction bars. Power Disc Brakes / Manual steering. Factory Style Bucket Seats. Factory Tach. Factory "J" Code Super Cobra Jet / Drag Pack Torino. Marti Report.

Exterior:

• Solid body with nice code "1" Vermillion paint (original color / has been repainted).

• 15" Magnum 500 wheels with 235/60/15 and 255/70/15 tires.

• Shaked hood / Hideaway headlights (inop).

Interior:

• Nice code: "CA" Black interior.

• Bucket seats / 4 speed floor shifter.

• Factory Tach.

Mechanical:

• 429 V8 engine (runs strong / not the original engine 70-74 Block).

• 4 speed manual transmission.

• Manifolds / Dual exhaust / Flowmaster mufflers.

• Manual steering / Power front disc brakes.

• Was originally a traction lock 4:30 rear gear.

Miscellaneous:

• The odometer reads 84,265 miles (actual mileage cannot be verified).

• Factory "J" Code Super Cobra Jet / Drag Pack Torino.

#Ford Torino Super Cobra Jet Drag Pack #Ford Torino Super Cobra Jet #ford torino #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #ford

[saltmageelliexiv]

Send ⛏️ to see them in their current DoL glamour(s)

Send ⚔️ to see my muse in their current melee DPS glamour(s)

Send ✨ to see them in their current caster glamour(s)

Send 👗 to see them in a fancy dress

FFXIV Screenshot Meme

oof this one took a while for me to do...

Top Left: DoL Glamour What can I say, I have a weakness for long coats and mufflers.

Top Right: Melee DPS The current glam for my reaper job; it's a primarily vanilla mashup outfit but I like the slightly sexy appeal of an open jacket with the strappy top. And of course the fur-lined hood.

Bottom Left: Caster Glamour I think it's very clear what inspired me.

Bottom Right: Fancy Dress You can't ever look bad in a black dress.

#OOC #Asked and Answered #Thanks for the ask! #Ask Prompt

[hirocimacruiser]

JZA70

Big single turbine transforms the car into a powerful one, making it the fastest Supra for city riding.

GT-R, Silvia, 180SX and RX7

It is hidden behind,

Yes, there aren't that many, but this

JZA70 Supra is also a popular car as a tune base. In the case of the Supra, tunes that aim for big power are popular due to its character. This 1992 Supra is also the original

It is the highest speed specification that squeezes out so-called top power, changing from a twin turbo to a big turbine. A large intercooler installed in the front section efficiently removes piping from the turbine.

It is pinged. It is important to keep the intercooler piping as short as possible to minimize resistance, and this is done well in the case of this Supra.

I received big power again

For this reason, a metal reinforced clutch is installed.

It has a heavy steering feel, but once you get used to it, you can ride it around town without any difficulty. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to fully open the accelerator and try out the full power, but the accelerator response was good and it wasn't difficult to handle even at low speeds. Finishing of the engine room Even just looking at it, I could feel its high level of perfection. The crossed legs of the coilover

The surroundings also feel good.

The interior has a nice steering wheel.

It has been changed to Italvolante, and the center console has Blitz's twin SBC and turbo timer built in, but it doesn't feel like a big turbine is installed. The exterior also catches the eye with the air scoop on the bonnet and the air intake for Turbo A, but the rest is just a book.

The traditional form is being utilized.

PIC CAPTIONS

●The special all-stainless muffler produces a thick exhaust note. When you step on the accelerator, you can experience the intense surge of torque that only a big turbine can provide.

●The air duct for Supra's Turbo A is installed by modifying the bumper. The cooling efficiency of the large intercooler installed inside has been increased. An air scoop is also installed on the hood.

●The original twin turbo, which emphasizes response, was changed to a large single turbo with big power, and the engine room has been seriously tuned and is beautifully finished.

INFO BOX

Supra 2.5R twin turbo

1992 model with 2 years of inspection

Mileage 44,000km 1,980,000 yen

Tune data: K.27 turbine

large type intercooler

stainless Muffler

metal reinforced clutch

vehicle high pitch

turbo duct

stainless steel

muffler original compilation

SHOP INFO

liberty cars

847 Kurami, Samukawa-cho, Koza-gun, Kanagawa 253-01

0467-73-1496

It relocated from Ebina City and opened on November 1st. There are a wide variety of tuning cars, from light to hard. We only have young staff, so please feel free to come. We also sell parts and mail order.

#JZA70 #Toyota Supra #Mk3 Supra #3rd gen Supra #A70 Supra #Supra #JDM #JZA70 Supra

[seat-safety-switch]

For years, there was a tale of one who truly owned the highway loop. She, in her battered white Yaris, with Rilakkuma seat covers, was queen of the passing lane. If you dared to get in her lane, she’d apply just the perfect amount of tailgating pressure to force you to speed up and get the fuck back to the middle lane.

Some, like myself, need only a gentle following to remind them that they are violating the social contract. Others would get her hood planted so far up their ass that she might as well have been installed into the car by U-Haul’s least sober technicians. Not in an aggressive way, of course, because that would lead to brake checks and hurt feelings, but very matter-of-fact. Ruthless. I belong here and you don’t. Step aside.

Once, I saw her momentarily break this mask of calm. We had been behind a brown Subaru Ascent for what felt like two hours, as the operator repeatedly attempted to investigate the highway divider with their left front tire. Two other numbnuts in the remaining lanes kept perfect pace with this car, preventing a frustrated undertake or even a lane change. I dropped back, tired of the stressful lifestyle of trying to go five kilometers an hour over the speed limit on an otherwise empty highway. She didn’t.

At first, I thought there had been a lightning strike. The noise was instantaneous, terrifyingly loud, and seemed to be all around us. I checked for burning trees, and finding none, returned my eyes to seeing the Yaris shooting foot-long, crackling flames out of the muffler. From what I originally thought was a merely broken headlight, I saw the telltale glow of a ceramic ball-bearing turbocharger being driven with exhaust gas temperatures hotter than the sun. There was the sound of an external wastegate scrambling excess boost as the turbo’s pressure built, and just as the sound of tortured air became unbearable, another flash, thundercrack, and the Ascent was gone. Wiped clean from existence.

The Yaris continued on its merry way, politely signalling to return to the middle lane, and then the right lane, and then it got off on the exit near the noodle house that I like. Excellent taste, but I would expect nothing less.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

“No, ma’am. You and I made eye contact over there,” she pointed in the direction of the exit door. “You literally just walked over here and decided to start some shit. First, you looked at me and then decided to make a coughing sound. Bitch, please. Get a fucking grip. We’re outside at an airport AND for your information, we’re both likely breathing in more toxic shit than my one fucking cigarette. So, therefore, take your wannabe tree hugging dirt worshipping clean air action hero bullshit self and go fuck a heart lung machine,” Gerta said in such a manner that you’d to want to hug her and give her a cookie, a juice box and a kiss on both cheeks. Just then, she flicked ashes onto the sidewalk, as well as the cigarette and squished it out.

As a rental car Sprinter with a broken muffler approached them, this woman’s male companion cupped his hand and touched her elbow and said, “You’re not going to fuck up this up, Amanda. Let’s go right now.” She was just about to say something, but he snapped at her, “Right! Now!” They walked away.

After 18 hours of flying and what seemed like interminable hours of waiting for connecting flights, she wanted one cigarette. One fucking cigarette. God. Why?! People can be so judgmental, but we can simply point out that there fashion sense hadn’t progressed since the 2nd Grade. Just look at those shoes. Did they snatch them off a shelf at Goodwill or a dead body after they went over the hood of a car? Yes. It’s so very true, an actual living breathing meme: You go, Girl and take those tacky shoes with you was coming for her outside at an airport standing in the Smoking Zone several hundred feet away from everyone else.

She, Gerta Jorde, was enjoying the experience of a cigarette in Long Beach. The perfect waste of time. The gorgeous sun, the slight breeze and California. Don’t knock it until you’ve done it. Gerta pulled out another cigarette and was about to light it as the bright blue car rental Sprinter was slowly coming around the corner. She waved at the shuttle to stop and pick her up.

She shoved the unlit cigarette behind her ear, picking up her vintage Carpet Bag, the rug had originally been found in her grandmother’s foyer, and felt the shuttle van door open with a whoosh sound. Gerta smiled and said, “Hello,” to the driver and he said “Howdy,” back at her. She sat down at the first empty seat nearest the door.

“What’s your final destination,” he asked her while pulling out into the airport traffic. “Catalina.” “Most excellent,” he replied and they were on their way to the car rental area on the farthest side of the airport.

“I hate men,” she thought to herself.

Gerta arrived at the car rental bungalow and the driver had told her to enjoy her time in Catalina as she going inside to get away from everyone and everything. Going through the motions of signing papers and whipping out her credit card, the young man behind the counter said she had a choice of a roller skate or a two story SUV. She grimaced and said, “I’ll take the roller skate and be on my way. By the way, how far is it from here to the Catalina Ferry?”

“Normally, it should be about 45 minutes but it could take you about an hour and a half and of course that depends on traffic,” replied the nice young man as he handed her the keys to the roller skate. As she stepped outside and began to look for her rental, Gerta saw it. A bright purple jellybean on wheels. “Christ,” she exclaimed.

She opened the door and saw exactly how small it is. She sat down and had to find the little bar in order to push the seat all the way back, but she was in luck, the car came with Bluetooth. Gerta fumbled with all the mirrors and figured out how to use the directionals. After a few minutes of adjusting all the necessary things, she started the car and waited for another moment for her phone to connect to the Bluetooth. Rammstein came blaring through the speakers. She picked up her phone and tapped the screen and “Carpet of The Sun” came out the speakers. “Better,” she said to herself as she began to head down to the Catalina Island ferry.

As she was merging into traffic, an unnecessarily large burnt orange pickup truck cut her off and Gerta once again screamed, “I HATE MEN!!” The little purple jellybean of a car headed towards the Catalina Ferry.