#quad steer

[rollerman1]

#semi truck #quad steer #tri drive #cab over #coe #heavy haul trucking

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Three

MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG x fem!reader Warnings: primal play, smut, oral, cumplay, mxm, foursomes WC: 3.1k

F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You asked, I answered - love Ollie xxx

Gentle waves lapped against the yacht as it was moored in the bay of the private island Max had hired for the week. Your morning had been spent enjoying the ocean spray and the sun with Max navigating the pristine waters of the Mediterranean before you had convinced him to leave the captain's chair and join you on the top deck. 

It was lucky there was nothing around for miles or the boat might have run aground when he saw you were sunbathing nude because he didn’t make it back to the steering wheel for quite some time. 

“I have a surprise,” Max said as he helped you step off the boat and onto the pier that led to the waterfront villa. 

Your already bright smile grew as a quad bike came down the beach and you grew impatient as Max failed to explain anything further. “Well, don’t leave me hanging,” you urged him. “What’s the surprise?”

“You’ll find out,” he teased before grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the back of the quad driven by one of the staff that maintained the villa. “Everything you need is in the backpack.”

He tipped your head back and crushed his lips to yours, nipping your bottom one as he pulled away smirking. “I’ll see you soon.”

You would have opened the backpack to try and figure out what was happening but the ATV revved and your hands were preoccupied with grabbing the handles as you were sequestered away. The ride was nowhere near as smooth as the yacht had been on the sea and you bounced around as the man Max had entrusted your safety to left the beach and drove inland, deep into the forest you had yet to explore.

“Nous voilà. Bonne chance,” he said as he stopped in a clearing with a small lake. Your French may have been limited but even you knew ‘goodluck’ when you heard it and you frowned as you hopped out of the offroad vehicle, grabbing the backpack before he left again.

“What the hell, Max,” you muttered as you were left alone and the sound of the bike was replaced with birdsong. 

There were staff all over the island, topping up supplies in the villa and maintaining the land, but they were very adept at keeping to the shadows to give you the privacy that was expected with your stay. You only hoped they were somewhere nearby as you took a seat at the edge of the water and opened the backpack to see an envelope with your name on it.

We know how much you love the chase and you know we love the competition, so while you and Max were off island we snuck on.  For each hour you escape us, another joins the hunt. Goodluck, Charles, Lewis, Carlos, Checo, Lando, Fernando, Pierre & George.

Your heart jumped at the thrill they offered and you opened the bag open further to see some warm clothes to go over the swimsuit you still wore along with shoes, food and water, as well as a map and compass. You unfolded the map first and saw there were places marked that offered more supplies before checking your watch. It was a little after noon and with sunset tending to be just before 9pm you could see yourself enjoying the night with all of them, if you could evade them for nine hours. 

It didn’t escape your notice that the names were in the same order of the driver standings and you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task hiding from them on the island. It wasn’t that large but the forest offered the best chance with its cover so you pulled on the clothes and packed the bag up again before setting off into the bush, keeping your heading north with the compass.

The first hour passed quickly with you looking over your shoulder every ten seconds but the second hour grew a little tiresome as the initial burst of adrenaline retreated and the solitude of the dense trees left you going stir crazy. 

By late afternoon you knew Max, Charles, Lewis and Carlos were definitely about with Checo likely already having joined them too. It was Carlos’ laugh that alerted you to their proximity and you daren’t breathe as you dropped to the ground and rolled under a thicket of bush. Your ears pounded as your heart rate spiked and blood pumped furiously around your body. Excitement of the chase warred with the need to get caught and it took all your self control to keep still as they passed your hidden position. 

“Sucks to be you, mate,” Carlos teased, “you’ll be fighting your own brother for her next season.”

The thought of sharing the Leclerc brothers stoked the fire igniting in your body and your thighs pressed together tightly.

“Do you see any Alfa Romeo drivers here?” Charles shot back. 

“He makes a very good point,” Max said with a laugh. “But if you were champion you wouldn’t have to fight anyone.”

“Yeah,” Charles scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head.

“It’s not impossible to do, fucking difficult, don’t get me wrong, but not impossible,” Lewis noted as their voices faded off with the snaps of sticks under their boots. 

The last thing you heard was Checo suggesting splitting into smaller groups to cover more area and the others agreeing, you didn’t hear who teamed up with who.

Another two hours had passed by the time you reached the northern beach of the island, long shadows chasing the retreating tide as the temperature started dropping. It was quite the relief to find that a glamping tent had been set up and inside was a warm meal as well as more clothing and there was even a solar shower after all the walking you had done.  There was no way you were going to pass up the chance to have a hot shower and quickly stripped off your clothes before stepping under the refreshing water. 

If you weren’t so tired from the unexpected exercise the afternoon brought you might have questioned how the meal was hot or why the tent wasn’t on the map. 

“Well, well, look who wandered in,” Pierre chuckled as he stepped into the tent with a towel hung low on his hips, George at his side with wet hair and a grin on his lips. “This is a surprise.”

You froze as you realised this wasn’t a supply tent for you but where the guys were waiting for their time to join the hunt. “Fuck,” you cursed and stepped out from under the spray of water to grab a towel. 

“No need to cover up, love,” George tutted as crossed the distance in two long strides and blocked the shelf full of them. “I quite like you as you are.”

You looked at his watch and bit your lip at the heat of his stare. “You’re not playing yet.”

His thumb caught a drop of water clinging to your bottom lip and your nipples peaked as the air cooled around you. “I never play when it comes to you.”

Pierre watched with an amused look as he sat back on the bed that had been made with the same neatness as the beds in the villa. “It’s kind of a shame you’re here really, I was looking forward to hunting you down.”

Your chest rose and fell with quick breaths as you enjoyed the same thought. “You could let me go, there’s still five minutes.”

His head tilted as he pondered the decision but your attention was torn when George’s knuckles traced your jawline before trailing down your neck and over your collarbone, a soft sigh parting your lips at the touch. 

“Tempting,” George muttered, “but we can hardly let you walk out of here when you look at us like that.” 

A shiver rolled down your spine as your tired muscles were refreshed with an injection of adrenaline and a smile played at your lips. Unable to help yourself, you grabbed George’s hips and rose on your tiptoes to brush your lips across his cheek. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Your fingers curled into his towel and pulled it from his hips as you ran out of the tent, Pierre’s deep laugh promising retribution as it followed you out. “Four minutes, chérie!”

Your feet were flying as you sprinted off the beach and back into the treeline knowing Pierre would be hot on your heels the moment the hour clicked over. You checked your watch to see how much time was left and cursed as you remembered taking it off to shower. 

You didn’t have a single clue what direction you were heading, all you wore was George’s towel and the low sun barely saturated the canopy of leaves overhead. Realistically, you weren’t sure you could outrun the guys for another hour to get your share of them all but you kept trying.

Your lungs burned and your bare feet hurt but you kept your head down and kept moving before bursting through the tree line into a clearing, crashing into the back of someone. You both fell to the ground with a surprised shout and he managed to wrap his arms around you before the impact came but the towel managed to come free. Rolling on top of him, you straddled his waist and pinned his shoulders down.

“Got you.”

Charles' stunned expression only lasted a second before he grinned. “The hunter becomes the hunted.”

“Where are your clothes?” Max asked as he picked up the towel and you saw Carlos in the clearing too, the trio making up one of the teams they split into.

You dragged your eyes up the length of his body and licked your lips. “Why, want me to cover up?”

“No fucking way, hermosa,” Carlos replied quickly as he took the towel from Max and balled it up before throwing it back into the bush. “This is perfect.”

“You look cold,” Charles commented as he pushed himself up on his elbows to flick his tongue over your nipples and a needy whine poured from you. “I think between the three of us we can warm you up.”

Your mind went blank at the promise of being between them and your hips rocked over his in search of friction. “Please…”

Carlos was already shucking his jacket and ripping his belt out of the loops with a sharp snap so he could kick off his jeans while Max was content to lean against a tree, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Your head fell back with a cry when Charles bit the swell of your breast and your knees tightened around him in response to the bolt of lightning you felt in your core. “Fuck, I missed those sounds,” he groaned as he pulled away before tugging you up his body and positioning your cunt over his lips. “Not as much as I missed how you taste.”

The heat of his breath blowing across your core was nothing compared to his tongue as he tasted you for the first time in weeks and your jaw fell slack with a moan. 

“That’s it, baby, open wide,” Carlos praised, his fist pumping slowly up and down his cock as stepped closer. 

There was something wild and freeing with being lost in the middle of a remote island, the scents of the earth and natural light colliding with the dominant energy rolling off the men. And knowing there were even more of them out there searching for you made you feral with need. 

Your lips sealed around Carlos and your nails dug into his ass as you pulled him closer, burying him down your throat until you gagged. His hand found its way to the back of your head and he held you there as your eyes watered and you almost had to tap out.

“Dios mío,” he moaned as he watched you gasp for air before taking him once again, tears staining your cheeks. 

Your legs began to tremble around Charles and he moaned as your arousal ran down his chin. The tension that had been building all day finally peaked and stars danced around your vision as Charles’ tongue and Carlos’ cock found the perfect rhythm.

Carlos grinned as your eyelashes fanned across your cheeks, droplets glistening along them while your throat tightened around him. “That’s a good girl,” he praised and wrapped his large hand around your throat to feel your struggles with his size. 

Your orgasm shattered every inch of you and your cries were smothered as Carlos’ hand tightened, his hips thrusting forward as he joined you. His taste filled your mouth and you hummed as it ran down your chin before you climbed back down Charles' body and saw the mess on his face.

“Open your mouth, Charles,” Max said with a smirk as he pushed off the tree and knelt beside him. Charles obeyed in an instant but Max wasn’t satisfied as he caught his chin and opened his mouth wider. “Go on, baby, he’s dying for a taste too.”

You leaned forward and parted your lips, letting the thick stream of cum flow into Charles’ mouth before he pulled you down and shared the taste on your tongue with a deep groan.

“How was your warm up?” Max asked as he lifted you off Charles. Your feet touched the ground and though they were a little weak from the orgasm they seemed stable enough.

“Warm up?”

Max checked his phone and chuckled before he slapped your ass. “Run, rabbit, run.”

Carlos’ laugh echoed Max’s from where he was pulling his boxers back up his thick thighs. “Here come the wolves.”

Two British accents caught your attention from somewhere in the trees and everyone turned to the sound but while they were distracted you bolted in the opposite direction, your legs bumbling like a newborn fawn. You barely made it fifty yards before a pair of strong arms caught you and you let out a surprised scream as the ground disappeared from under your feet. 

Your already smarting ass took a fresh smack from Lewis’ large hand and you moaned as the heat spread across your skin. Peering up from where you had been tossed over his shoulder, you smiled as Lando caught up with his own lopsided grin. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he greeted before Lewis turned around to say something to him but Lando was a little distracted. “Oh, hello gorgeous.” 

His lips felt refreshingly cool against the handprints burning backside and you fell limp against Lewis’ back with a sigh at how good it felt. The upside down world starting to spin when Lewis held your legs apart so Lando could fuck you with his fingers and you quickly got lightheaded from it all. 

“Tu vas bien?”

You worked hard to push yourself up to see Pierre had found you with his trademark smirk painted on his face and you gave him the thumbs up as your lips parted with another breathless moan. “Just exploring the island.”

“So I see,” he chuckled as he circled around you. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Lewis called before Pierre tossed a coin in the air and slapped it down on his hand, Lewis’ deep laugh vibrating through you at the result. For a second you were almost airborne before he caught you and lowered your feet back to the ground to see the damp mark on his shirt. His smile was one of pure indulgence as he held your eyes and lifted the material to his lips and tasted you with a hum of satisfaction. “On your knees, babygirl.”

Your fingers worked his belt open and pulled his cargo pants down as you sank to your knees, your hand wrapping around his thick cock before you wet your lips. A pair of hands gripped your hips and you moaned around your mouthful as Lando pulled you back to meet his thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, gorgeous,” Lando groaned happily.

Needing to breathe, you pulled back with a gasp and peeked over your shoulder to see Pierre pressed against Lando’s back and your core clenched as both of their eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned as a delightful shiver spread across your body and Pierre placed his hands over Lando’s, holding your hips too as he set the pace.

“You like that, babygirl?” Lewis asked with a knowing smile as he ran a thumb over your swollen lips. “You want to watch them too?”

You nodded eagerly and tongue lashed across the pad of his thumb before you sucked it into your mouth and his chest rose quickly with the deep breath he took. He pulled you away from Lando, the emptiness only lasting a moment as he spun you around to face them and stretched your cunt as he snapped his hips forward.

Your hands braced on Lando’s chest and he stole the startled cry by crushing his lips against yours. You broke away breathless and your head fell back to rest in the crook of Lewis’ neck.

“Open your eyes,” Pierre ordered and they snapped open at the command to meet his over Lando’s shoulder.

Your eyes trailed down Lando’s body to where Pierre was stroking his hard length smoothly thanks to your arousal slick on his palms. You could hardly breathe as Lewis matched their pace, his tattooed hand reaching around you to find your clit.

“Uh-uh, eyes, chérie.”

Heat spread up your spine and tremors followed as the pleasure built to breaking point. It was the deep moan that Lando made as he came that tipped you over the edge and your fingers gathered the cum that warmed your skin so you could taste him too.

“Oh, babygirl,” Lewis moaned in your ear before spanking his palm across your ass. “You’re so tight, I can’t even, ugh,” his words were lost to his bliss as he rolled his hips slowly, milking every last drop that had begun to leak down your thighs.

“Putain,” Pierre swore as saw the delicious mess that had been made and slammed his dick into Lando one last time before spilling his own.

For a moment the clearing was silent except for the heavy breathing from all the exertion but then a slow clap started and Max, Charles and Carlos stepped out from the trees.

“Please don’t make me run again,” you panted from where you were sitting on Lewis’ lap, a sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“You’re welcome,” Lewis chuckled low in your ear.

“Luckily, the villa is just through those trees,” Max said as he pointed behind you and sure enough there were lights when you looked properly. “You, my little rabbit, have earned a bit of recovery time. After all, we have all night.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @slytherheign @alwaysclassyeagle @godess-of-mist @leahstf @mydutchproblem

#formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 smut #formula one smut #the best kept secret on the grid #m x m #max verstappen x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #lewis hamilton x you #carlos sainz x reader

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

#Ford Highboy Coupe #Ford Highboy #Ford #car #cars #street rod #hot rod

[rb19]

"Max was in the garden every day on a quad bike. On the second or third day after he got it, he went on two wheels, had to adjust the steering and went side-on into the wall. Luckily, he was wearing a helmet, which got scratched. But he didn't mind." © Frits van Eldik

#max verstappen #f1 #maxy #the most precious little boy

[malegains]

TOO BIG TO DRIVE? It happens to all of us eventually. Our quest for mass blows us up so big we can't squeeze into the driver's seat of a car or truck anymore. Your ass gets so big your head hits the ceiling when you sit down. Your quads won't fit under the steering wheel. Your pecs and biceps jam into each other when you try to grab the wheel, so if you can even manage to grip it there's no way you could execute a sudden turn if you needed to. Maybe all those things have happened to you at once. Never fear - this month, we've got a guide for what to do when you get too big to drive. You're not immobile (yet)!

#ai muscle #male muscle growth #ai muscle growth #muscle #musclegrowth #muscle in public #muscle growth story #hyper muscle

[wlfpet]

ABBY ‘WAR MACHINE’ ANDERSON

—short thoughts

• A honey girl, always keeps a summer tan, usually from working out on the quad all day. Practically glowing all of the time and the girls are insane about it.

• Sorry, the braid is dead. Only ever really wears it on the rugby field, and when she’s walking around campus, her hair is usually down, or up in a bun and held back with a sweatband. Whatever mental image you’re conjuring in your mind, it’s correct. Even that one.

• Her father is the country’s premier neurosurgeon, and he’s donated a lot of money to Jackson University. A library there, a faculty building there, even refurbishing the rugby field for the season. He practically gives a blank check each year, and because of this, consequences don’t really exist for Abs and she gets away with any and everything. The reason why she has an air fryer in her dorm and the RAs pretend like they don’t see it.

• Proud community strap. Was notorious freshman year for having a rotating cycle of girlfriends and side pieces. ‘Those are not healthy coping mechanisms, Abby.’ Her therapist says, but is there really any better way to ease your mind that slipping deep into a warm body, tight and soft and wet? No, probably not.

• Has the prettiest smile, smiles with her eyes, always so charming with plump, kissable lips. Has perfect teeth, never missed a dentist appointment and gets check ups religiously. Had braces in the 10th grade and when she had her first kiss with a girl she cut her lip and it bled all down her mouth. She probably fainted idk.

• Girl himbo (I know what I said.) butch himbo? Butchbo? Actually super smart and well read, majoring in animal science to become a vet tech. Spends a lot of her time in the school library, when she’s not on the field, or at a party, or in a stranger’s bed. Or in her own bed, nursing a hangover, whatever’s more common.

• Still roommates with Manny since freshman year. Originally she got set up with Leah, who then of course wanted to room with her boyfriend, who was conveniently dorming with Manny. A little form-filling here, some schmoozing there, a little ‘my dad owns this school’ over yonder and it was a match made in heaven. Nobody has a deeper, more intimate connection than a butch lesbian and her boy best friend.

• Terribly afraid of needles. She can’t pinpoint specifically what she has against them but they inspire the same nausea in her that heights do, so when she can she steers clear of them. In a turn of drunken, reckless events, Manny convinced her to get her ears pierced, because pretty girls love stud earrings, obviously. By the time the piercer did one ear, Manny had to carry her out of the parlor because she had COMPLETELY passed out.

• Between classes and practice, she forgot to clean her piercing and her ear got infected. She had two large-scale mental breakdowns; the first when she woke up leaking and burning from her ear, which had already sucked the metal halfway into the flesh, and the second, when her dumbass roommate said, “it’s okay, man. I have pliers, I can pull it out for you and then you’re good as new.” She almost threw up.

• The great piercing debacle of ‘21 ended in her calling up her dad, bawling, because she didn’t know what to do, Manny sitting on the couch listening to her freak the fuck out in the bathroom. “This is what happens when you put foreign objects into your body, Abs.” He chided, as *another* needle was plunged into her skin —local anesthetic— before he sliced open her earlobe with a scalpel.

• The proud driver of a cherry-red enclosed Jeep Wrangler, fully paid off by her dad as a highschool graduation gift, an upgrade from the white Audi she got as a 16th birthday present. She gets it rewrapped every six months —the ice blue was real popular with the ROTC girls, the olive green got the environmental club girls out of their panties, the red and black is a pretty good catch-all— (school colours, by the way!)

• Gets her car detailed once every two weeks, the back seat has those mud mats laid down. they’re not for mud.

• Retired horse girl, ALMOST got a pony for her fourteenth birthday! Then, shit happened… and she didn’t get the pony for her fourteenth birthday.

• Loves revenge and power plays, actually! It’s her specialty at this point😚 Got into some medium-tier beef with some dickhead on campus, and somehow his mouth got ahead of him and ended with her being branded as the town’s bulldyke. Interestingly enough, the day didn’t end in Anderson-typical violence. Instead, as one does, she trailed him home one day, borrowing Nora’s black sedan for recon. Just for field research, obviously!

• In the interest of honesty, Abs was definitely planning on stealing the wheels off of his car, or putting bleach in his gas tank, —sugar is a myth, just so you know— until she saw the most beautiful creature strolling out of the house and into a white SUV. Then, her plan changed for absolute scorched-earth total destruction, to an excruciating slow-burn.

• The next week, while shopping at the grocery store which she totally didn’t drive 30 minutes out of her way to go to, she had her first meet cute, coincidentally, with a gorgeous 40-something that just so happened to be some asshole’s mom.

• Before she knew it, she was fucking her on every surface in her house, —artfully furnished, great feng-shui— the kitchen, the bathroom, her marital bed, the couch, essentially the full tour, until they got to her son’s bedroom. Kept a mental note, and when she excused herself to the bathroom she probably erased all of the little shit’s PlayStation saves, too.

• When you start fucking a guy’s mom, it changes you. Your wardrobe especially. Including an arsenal of completely coincidental, just for fun slogan tees, with hits like “I ❤️ HOT MOMS!” “PROMOTED TO DADDY” and a personal favourite, “MAN, I LOVE FISHING!”

* And of course, she comes back to campus fresh off of a 3 hour stint of eating out a woman twice her age, to greet her new best friend with a smile and a, “Hey, your mom makes a good apple fritter! Dessert was fuckin’ greaaat, too! Practically finger lickin’ :)”

* CEO of revenge, comedically evil.

#tiki writes #college!abby #au: jack!u #abby anderson blurb #abby anderson ff #Abby Anderson au

[kararisa]

brushstrokes

— you’re beautiful and i’m insane

— painter!kaveh x sculptor!reader; art school au

— author’s notes: kaveh’s release grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall and i’ve been enamored by this damn architect ever since. quote is from Venice Bitch by Lana Del Ray

Kaveh has always been a creative person, possessing the ability to take the whispers of an idea and turn them into tangible masterpieces of ink and color

Each line and brushstroke on the canvas were stories of all the love, joy, and pain that Kaveh has ever experienced

A desk of organized chaos is what someone is usually greeted with if they were to ever set foot in his dorm

Picture a set of markers and pencils lying splayed across his desk while he works on his next assignment. Or a stack of sketchbooks also sat in the corner of his room, both finished and unfinished (or “cursed”, as he so lovingly calls those with only a handful of sketches on the first page)

But creative drive can’t last forever – Kaveh’s brushstrokes, once guided by inspiration, now dance hesitantly upon the blank canvas in front of him

He stares at the white blankness, and he swears it stares back at him

“Find something that inspires you”, “Find beauty in the mundane”. People spewed all the same bullshit but none of it helped. and it didn’t exactly help that he’s constantly under the pressure of deadlines

Once, all he needed were his ideas. and now not even those are enough

And that’s when he met you

In one of the college library’s many hidden corners, the two of you just so happened to reach for the same book at the same time

Your hand brushed against his. And Kaveh’s eyes met yours 

“I kinda need that for an assignment,” you whispered to the blonde. In response, Kaveh takes the book and gives it to you

“Here. Just as long as you hand it over to me when you’re done,” Kaveh smiles

The two of you begin to chat more while checking out your books: current projects (he learns you’ve been working on improving your sculpting, and Kaveh shares he’s working on improving his composition), favorite food in the cafeteria (Kaveh tells you that he’s quite fond of soups), and the like

He began to bump into you more often, and not just in the library. You see each other in the hallway in between classes, sometimes the quad, maybe in the dorms if he’s lucky. Heck, he even saw you taking a swig of alcohol with your friends in the hidden storage room where he and his friends would drink on cooler nights

But you truly began to get to know each other when he walked in on you working on another one of your sculptures in one of the empty art studios usually reserved for lectures and live figure drawing classes

You sit near him and the two of you make easy conversation.

As the hours passed by, and the sky’s blue hues turned orange, the topic of the conversation steered to why the two of you decided to pursue art in the first place

And Kaveh couldn’t quite explain it, but ever since that day, his creative drive seemed to return to him in earnest. It’s slow-going, but at least now he can pick up a pencil or a brush without losing his ideas

Maybe it’s because he’s found a new source of inspiration

Or maybe it’s just because he likes your company

#kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #kaveh fluff #genshin fluff #genshin modern au #genshin college au #genshin imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin fanfic

[thedemoninme141]

Blade of Miquella Chapter 2: Craving For Woe.

Summary: Wednesday used you for her investigation, will you hate her for it? Part 1 - HERE  👈👈👈

Corpse after corpse, left in my wake. As I awaited... his return.

Startled awake by the cacophony of terrified screams of students that pierced the air, you bolted upright from your slumber. The disconcerting noise echoed through the dormitory, urging you into immediate action. Hastily, you rushed towards the balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the commotion.

And there he stood, an ominous figure draped in a tattered cloak, his face distorted and aged beyond comprehension. The unsettling sight of the old man, with his peculiar top hat and gnarled staff, sent a chill down your spine. His malevolent gaze locked onto you, and in an instant, he bellowed with a voice that seemed to resonate from the depths of despair.

"I will expunge you abominations from this EARTH!"

On your journey to becoming more approachable, the bench under a maple tree became your place near the quad to spend your free time.

This tranquil spot became your sanctuary, where you sought refuge during your free time. With a book often cradled in your hands, you observed the bustling students as they chatted and played, Enid occasionally joining you for brief moments. However, you made a conscious effort not to grow too attached to her, fearing that your inner demon might inadvertently harm those close to you. However today you were alone as you wanted to be, you needed to read the book again, to find any information about the gold needle.

While your mind was taken by the horrifying contents of The Lands Between, Lost in the grim passages, you remained oblivious to the presence of another soul drawing near. A gentle shadow cast over you, and when you looked up, there she stood: the braided girl. The sun's rays danced upon her, creating a radiant halo around her form, and without glimpsing the specifics of her features, your heart seemed to halt for an instant.

"Would you mind if I sit here?"

Trying to collect your thoughts, you hesitated for a moment before giving her a soft smile,

"Of course, you can sit here." You said as you moved a little to give her more than enough space. She took the place beside you and got her own book out and started reading. Minutes ticked by in companionable silence, the stillness of the moment punctuated only by the faint rustling of pages turning and students chattering. you never thought you would be bothered by tranquillity. You glanced a little to her as you saw her occupied by her book, You shifted a bit away from Wednesday, the fear of touch coming back to you as you wanted your gloves back again.

"You aren't like the other students." She broke the silence, You look at her, her eyes still on her book.

"What do you mean?"

"Unlike the other students, you don't seem to crave attention. You seem to be a quiet one."

"I suppose I've always been more comfortable observing from the sidelines," you replied, offering a small smile. "The noise and attention can be overwhelming sometimes."

Wednesday glanced up from her book, her striking eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the pages. "I can understand that," she said softly. "Sometimes, it's easier to navigate the world when you're not constantly in the spotlight."

You nodded, feeling a sense of understanding between the two of you. There was something oddly comforting about the way she spoke. Perhaps it was the sincerity in her voice or the calm aura she exuded. You found yourself wanting to know more about her, even though you had just met. As the conversation continued, Wednesday skillfully steered it towards your interests and activities on campus, subtly asking about the classes you took, the people you associated with, and the places you frequented.  it all felt like harmless small talk. For now...

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn deeper into Wednesday Addams' enigmatic world. What had begun as small talks soon blossomed into moments spent together, seeking refuge in the library's shadowy corners or the solitude of quiet nooks around the campus. In her company, you discovered a unique solace, unlike any other friendship you had known before. Wednesday, with her mastery of morbid tales and dark secrets, had a way of delving into the most haunting memories and embracing the most macabre thoughts with an uncanny sense of ease. Her willingness to share her own past, including stories of her old pet scorpion Nero, only deepened the connection between you. As the whispers of mysterious murders echoed through Nevermore Academy, your inner turmoil intensified. The increasing danger surrounding the school made you apprehensive that Wednesday might suspect you or, worse yet, fear you. The thought of losing this newfound companionship terrified you, and so you kept your own secrets tightly locked away, shielding them from Wednesday. She had her investigation to worry about.

Every moment spent with Wednesday became a constant need for you, and slowly, you found yourself falling for her. You were drawn to her emotionless raven-black eyes, captivated by her devilish smile whenever she talked about her mischiefs. The curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever she led you into the very woods you were afraid of, yet you followed without hesitation, simply because it was for her. Your heart fluttered with each shared adventure.

One week before the Raven, you decided to take a leap of faith and confess your feelings to her. It was a daunting task, for you feared that you might ruin the beautiful friendship you had with her. But you needed to know, to understand if there was a chance for something more. So, with butterflies in your stomach, you poured your heart out to her, laying bare your emotions, your vulnerability, and your desire to be more than just friends, a single test, for you to be free enough to finally trust her with your darkness and as life never goes how you expect it to be,

Wednesday accepted your invitation to the Raven, indicating that she was willing to give you a try. Her enigmatic nature made it difficult to gauge her true feelings, but you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something special between you.

So when she came to you two days later, telling you about her doubt about Xavier, you were stunned. However, she provided enough alibies to back up her claims. But your heart still couldn't believe that Xavier could even do any of those things. So to at least prove his innocence to her, you provided what she needed. You were so blinded by your feelings about Wednesday, you couldn't see the importance of a friend's secret. So you showed her his Art Shack's location. You were sure that Wednesday would not find anything to put any blame on Xavier, however when you entered his shack, you weren't so sure anymore, There were paintings of a monster. You read about this monster in your book about The Lands Between. A Hyde.

"I supposed every artist needs a muse." She said picking up some more drawings.

"This is the monster that killed Rowan, Y/n. This is what I saw there." She told you.

"Xavier, you just became that much more interesting," she said.

"Let's go, Y/n," Wednesday urged, trying to take your hand and move you from the shack.

However, you remained rooted to the spot, your eyes locked on the haunting painting. Wednesday noticed the look of fear in your eyes, a look she had often seen in the eyes of her previous victims at her previous school. Strangely, she didn't find this particular reaction as satisfying as she usually did. Instead, she felt uneasy seeing the fear in your eyes. She herself couldn't understand why. So she took her focus onto what really scared you. Following your eyes, she saw another painting.

This one wasn't a monster, it was just a woman, an armored brown dress, a golden winged helmet and a long sword tainted by blood as if it was used to slaughter thousands. She stood with a menacing aura, surrounded by what appeared to be blood and crimson flowers. The sight intrigued Wednesday, stirring her curiosity about the woman in the painting. However, she knew that she had more pressing matters to attend to. So she dragged you out of there.

Xavier noticed your sudden friendship with the dark girl. A few days later, he confronted you about it.

"I guess you found a new best friend," he remarked with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"What do you mean? You are my best friend, you always were and always will be," you replied, trying to reassure him.

"But you seem to prefer spending more time with her. You don't even come to my art shack anymore. I even asked for your help and you didn't come. You kinda missed my surprise for you," he explained, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and concern.

Surprise? You wracked your brain, trying to remember the event he mentioned. Then, realization dawned on you. He definitely wanted to show you his painting of HER. He must've drawn it for you.

"Oh, that night last Tuesday... I'm so sorry, Xavier. I had some urgent work to do, and I couldn't make it. I meant to tell you but..."

You will come with me to find some important clues in the woods. Wednesday's voice echoed through your mind.

"You never asked why I needed your help," he interrupted gently, his eyes searching for an explanation.

You shifted uncomfortably, knowing that the truth might hurt him.

"I had something else on my mind," you offered vaguely.

Xavier peered into your eyes, sensing that there was more to your story than you were letting on. "You don't have to lie, you know?" he said softly. "I thought we were best friends, that we could share everything."

Guilt washed over you as you struggled to find the right words. You were torn between keeping Wednesday's secret and being honest with Xavier. But the weight of Wednesday's trust weighed heavily on your conscience, and you couldn't bear to betray her.

Before you could respond, Xavier continued, his tone tinged with concern. "She's using you, Y/n. Wednesday isn't the type of girl to have genuine feelings for anyone. She's just using you for her investigation into the murders in the woods. She's even delusional enough to think I might be the killer."

His words left you stunned and confused. You knew deep down in your heart that Xavier couldn't be the killer, then why weren't you defending him against Wednesday?

"Y/n.. do you think I am the killer?"

"No... I would never. Look, Xavier... I am not feeling good right now... I should go. We can talk later... Right?"

He sighed.

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Y/n."

As you walked hurriedly, a torrent of emotions swirled within you, leaving you unsure whose words to trust. Regret for Xavier weighed heavily on your heart, yet an inexplicable need to have faith in Wednesday tugged at your soul. In just a few short weeks, Wednesday had ignited emotions within you that you had never known before. The urgency to talk to her grew, hoping that you could somehow convince her of Xavier's innocence. So you walked towards her room to find her, feeling both anxious and determined. You had never ventured into her room, just as she had never visited yours, but you knew she shared the room with Enid, and pretty much everyone knew where Enid resided. As you traversed the campus, a sense of foreboding gnawed at your mind, tempting you to turn back and abandon your pursuit. The fear of how Wednesday might react to your opposition paralyzed you, and you hesitated. However, fate intervened, as you found her dorm door wide open – Enid's bad habit exposed. Although you aren't the overhearing type, you always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,

From inside, you could hear Enid's voice, tinged with anger, and you hesitated outside the door. Wednesday was looking at a large board,

Thick red strings crisscrossed the board, connecting disparate elements with eerie precision. It was as if you were witnessing the inner workings of her uncanny mind, an intricate dance of thoughts and deductions. Different photos reside there, houses like Xavier's Shack, The Gates Mansion and some other places. You recognized some of them as crime scenes. There were also Xavier, Larissa, Rowan, and Sherrif Galpin however one photo piqued your interest... Your photo,

Why was Wednesday relating you to her investigation? Curiosity warred with guilt as you felt like you were trespassing on their secrets, yet you couldn't help but eavesdrop for your own sake.

"You can't just play with her feelings, Wednesday. I don't even know her, but even I feel bad about what you are doing to her," Enid's voice carried concern and frustration.

"There is a lot at stake here, I am trying to save people's life too, Even though I like the idea of death by a Hyde however countless others don't. Her single life can't be worth more than the hundreds my investigation will save, I am merely putting her in danger, just using her connection to Principle Weems and Xavier." Wednesday's reply was cool and calculated

"Why would you... Ugh, whatever. But then why would you accept her confession if you don't even feel the same? It is wrong, Wednesday," Enid pressed further.

"I had to accept otherwise she wouldn't have helped me in finding this critical intel about Xavier, He is the murderer and I know it, his Alibi checks out with every piece of the puzzle."

"I am not worried about Xavier, I am worried about the lone girl." Enid sighed.

" I will leave her alone once I am done with my investigation."

"So that's it? You are going to leave her after getting her attached to you."

"I am a raven Enid, I don't feel any emotions, not for anyone, Not for her. I simply needed her assistance in my investigations, that's all." Wednesday said without hinting at any tone of emotions, you didn't sense any tone of regret, she simply said it as it was already planned without any hesitation.

As you listened to their conversation, a sense of betrayal washed over you. You had opened your heart to Wednesday, and now it seemed like your feelings were nothing more than tools for her investigation. Tears welled up in your eyes as you quietly stepped away from the open door, feeling vulnerable and hurt. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed you, leaving you unsure of your next move. The web of secrets and lies surrounding Wednesday had ensnared you, and you were left to grapple with the tangled mess of emotions that now filled your heart.

Revelations of that day still haunt you, the sorrow of the sudden betrayal, however, you accepted this as a punishment because you yourself betrayed your first and only friend's trust. Who now is in jail because of you.

And even after all Wednesday did, you couldn't exactly bring yourself to hate her. Now there is a mad wizard on the loose burning down the entire school.

Your fear, Your guilt, Your regret, Your Woe are beneficial for HER.

Maybe it's time, you use them.

You looked at the armor stored in the glass cage in your room.

The sword that belonged to her. Her voice echoed in your ears.

Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat.

PART 3 👉 HERE

#wednesday addams angst #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday angst #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #angst #death #betrayal

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.11

A/N: Hey guys just letting you know what the situation in terms of updates going forwards. I am making no guarantees as to updates from now until June because I am at the end of my final year of uni and gonna be v busy with assignments. This won't be going anywhere though and I will have plenty time in the summer to work on it.

As always feel free to send in any requests for this pairing, I likely won't get round to them for a few months but know that I see them and I love you all for engaging with this story which is now nearly 15,000 words! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

Previous part - Next part

---

Once all the morning jobs had been seen to, everyone had congregated in the corral for some fun roping the dummy on the back of the quad.  They’d invited hands from a neighbouring ranch for a bit of friendly competition, although it stopped being friendly the moment bets had started flying.  Most of the hands were betting on themselves, obviously confident in their own abilities, but a few from the Yellowstone had put money on y/n who had partnered with the other ranch’s female hand, despite the shouts of ‘traitor’ coming from her co-workers.  The only response she’d dignified them with was a middle finger and a guarantee to wipe the floor with them all.  Ryan and Lloyd had just had their turn when she lined up to take their shot.

Y/n exchanged a look with the other hand, getting a determined nod in return before she looked at Ethan on the quad and gave him the signal.  The quad didn’t go as fast as a steer so the horses could comfortably lope after it as opposed to going flat out like they normally would.  Their horses followed it easily and she held steady as the other hand swung her rope over the horns quickly off the mark.  Once the horns were done, y/n took her turn swinging the loose rope over head before aiming it at the back legs and hitting her mark.  As soon as the loop had tightened, she shifted her weight in the saddle back to which Comanche responded instantly by sliding to a halt in the sand.

Cheers came up from the onlookers at their speed, Rip turning to rib those who’d just gone, “y’all just got beat by some women.”

Lloyd turned to Ryan, “you rope like shit.”

“You’re the one that missed!” He defended

Rip rode up to them, “y’all rope like shit.  I’m gonna take those women with me today and y’all can just go fucking pack it in.”

Y/n loped down the arena to stop in front of them, “you should really learn to never bet against me.  Jake and Colby made smart choices, I expect my share of your winnings boys!”

“Ladies think you can go two for two?” Rip asked to which they both nodded, “get your ass in there let’s go.”

They watched as the girls reset and ran behind the quad to catch the plastic steer again with practised ease.  Lloyd rolled his eyes at the ever present fond look Ryan had in his eyes whenever he watched his girlfriend.  At this point everyone in the bunkhouse had figured out they were together, it was just a matter of time until Rip worked it out and he did not envy Ryan when that happened.  The foreman’s approval likely meant more to her than any of her family’s did (except maybe what Lee had given her with his gentle teasing in the trailer).  Next to him said foreman was looking at the girl with a similarly affectionate smile.

“You’re a soft touch when it comes to her aren’t you,” Lloyd said to him.

He kept his eyes trained ahead, “I don’t know what you’re suggestin’ Lloyd.”

“Bulllshit.  I know you put this together today so her mind wasn’t stuck on her mom all day,” he pointed out.

Rip chuckled, “don’t act like you ain’t the softest on her.”

-/-/-

For the first time in a while, y/n had denied joining the hands in the bunkhouse and instead chose to have dinner in the main house.  Part of her had hoped that her family might be able to have one normal dinner on the anniversary of their mother’s death but she should have remembered that the Dutton’s were never capable of normal, especially when it came to the dinner table.  When she’d reached the house, the living room was full of men in suits surrounding Beth and her father, clearly some political play that she’d made clear not to involve her in.  Jamie was sulking on the porch listening to the chatter so she decided to ignore him, in no mood to deal with her older brother acting like a child.

Instead she sought out Gator for dinner, which he was happy to accommodate considering she’d brushed off pancakes that morning, before having a shower and settling on the opposite side of the porch to Jamie where the talking didn’t reach her ears.  As she listened to the noises of the mountains surrounding her and the comforting whickers from the horses, she indulged in the only alcohol she ever did.  One beer, on the evening of the anniversary of her mother’s death.  Evelyn’s favourite beer.  It wasn’t even something she particularly liked the taste of but it made her feel a little bit connected to her mom as she imagined all the gossip they might have been exchanging if the horse never crushed her.  Y/n refused to believe John would have done what he did to Kayce if their mom had been around to talk sense into him.

“I thought you didn’t drink sweetheart,” a familiar voice came out of the darkness to interrupt her ‘what ifs’.

Y/n opened her eyes to see her boyfriend in front of her, “just the one for mom each year.  Ain’t even that good but it's hers.”

She watched as he came across the grass in front of the porch to lean on the railing in front of her.  Ryan tipped his hat at her teasingly which made y/n giggle.

“What’s got you so close to the house cowboy?  Aren’t they missing you in poker,” she joked.

He stuck his tongue out at her, “you ain’t much better at it than me sweetheart.  Something told me I shouldn’t let you be alone tonight.”

“The house is full of fools tryna get into bed with my father and Jamie’s out here somewhere sulking like a child!” Y/n said the last bit louder in hopes that her brother would get the message and go inside.

Ryan laughed at her lack of subtlety, “Jamie can stay out here for all I care.  If everyone in the house is busy suckin’ dick I doubt they’ll notice us sneaking up to your room.”

“Ry are you suggesting I sneak my boyfriend up to my bedroom like a teenager,” she giggled.

He smirked, “well you did say you never got to sneak around when you were a teenager it seemed only fair that I give you the chance to do it now.  We’ll both be at the barn in the morning before anyone here is even considering waking up.  You know you want to say yes sweetheart.”

“You make a convincing argument.  Come on then cowboy.”

Ryan climbed over the porch railing to take the hand y/n was offering before letting her lead him into the house.  He made a joke about it being the first time he’d be going through the front door which prompted his girlfriend to elbow him in the ribs.  When they entered, she closed the door as quietly as the wood would allow before gesturing for Ryan to take his boots off.  Jamie must have heard his sister because he’d moved his sulking to the kitchen where he was sat at the counter burning a hole into his laptop screen.  Y/n turned, putting her finger to her lips, before darting past the kitchen entryway and to the stairs.  Both of them made it up to her bedroom, making sure the door was shut before bursting into laughter.  Y/n felt lighter than she had all day, the weight of the day finally off her shoulders.

She swiped the hat off of his head, putting it on her damp hair with a smirk.  Ryan watched her carefully as she moved around the room to put her boots away.  When she turned back around he was still by the door, leant against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on his hat still on her head.

“You know what you’re doing there sweetheart?” He asked.

Y/n shrugged, “you askin’ if I know the cowboy hat rule, Ry?”

“Do you?” He pushed off the wall to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her hips gently.

She slid her hands up to rest on his shoulders, “I been around buckle bunnies since I was 15 Ry, course I know the cowboy hat rule.”

-/-/-

The next morning, y/n was awoken to the loud noise of her alarm blaring from her bedside table.  When she tried to turn it off she found herself too far away to reach her phone.  Pulling herself further into consciousness, y/n became aware of an arm around her waist and the feeling of Ryan’s lips against her shoulder.

“That’s so fuckin’ loud,” he complained.

She laughed as he let her go to turn the alarm off, “how else do you expect me to wake up before the sun rises?”

“Can’t remember the last time I used an alarm, normally just get woken up by the others getting up,” he explained.

They stayed wrapped up in the warmth of the bed for a few minutes before forcing themselves out of the comfort to get ready for work.  Ryan watched as his girlfriend got dressed before putting her hat on his head, not his this time, and followed her down the stairs.  Y/n slipped into the kitchen to get two apples, brushing off Gator’s questioning as to why she was taking more than one.  After grabbing her jacket from the peg, they walked down the drive to the barn in comfortable silence.

Y/n stopped part way there when she saw the cattle trucks and her dad stood outside, “shit he should still be asleep.”

“Don’t stress I’ll go round the corral and go in the back to the bunkhouse,” Ryan reassured her, dropping a kiss to her cheek, “in a bit sweetheart.”

She watched him go with a smile before taking a breath and steeling herself to speak to John without caffeine.

“Fell asleep in a stall?” She greeted him outside the barn, noting the shavings stuck to the back of his jacket.

John looked over at his daughter, “what you doing down here so early?  The hands won’t be out for a bit.”

“I’ll go get Comanche and ride up to meet these at the pasture,” Lucy tactfully ignored her dad’s question, “tell Rip to bring me coffee when they come up.”

Taglist: @child-of-of-the-sunshine @kendallroydefender @qardasngan @thecobraghost @little-diable

#yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #dutton ranch #ryan yellowstone x reader #ryan yellowstone #dutton!reader #ian bohen

[bob-frank451]

Careful, Humans Aboard

Chapter 1: Imagine

    Imagine you are Serenity. Imagine you stand at the front of the first wave, the first wave of humanity to reach the stars. Your father, your grandmother, your great grandfather, your great great grandmother, generations back, stretching millenia into the past looked at those stars, and wondered. Imagine.

    All of humanity watched them arrive. Perhaps that is not perfectly accurate. They arrived, and then humanity watched. One moment there was simply a patch of empty space. There was tearing, warping, the sticking of space back together, and there hung a ship. 

    It would come out in the following three days that the governments of Earth had been informed of the intended arrival, but hadn't passed the message on to the general public, or neighboring nations, due to policy.   

    The request was simple, it had been simple three months prior, and it was simple now. The ship wanted a human cremate, for "diversity".  

    When humans send people to space they usually use the space elevator. The ambassador they had recently sent was lifted up to space along that carbon nano-tube mega-structure. 

    This was not to be Serenity's fate, however. The ship had fired a drop pod down. As the drop pod had hit the outer wisps of the atmosphere a brilliant green structure had blossomed around it, before being obscured by the red-orange-yellow-white fire of reentry. 

    Just entry, for the first time, her brother might have corrected her, had he been there, but she was not so pedantic. She cranked her neck to the small circle of hardened glass, watching as the atmosphere slowly changed from grey to white, from white to turquoise, and now from turquoise to deep, dark blue. 

    It reminded her of the ocean. The surface is light, but as one goes deeper the colour depends and darkens, until all that can be seen is black. Space, however, has stars.

    The drop pod was comfortable, even for a human. The chair, a human-proportioned chair, was cushioned with what appeared to be the distant descendant of memory foam and some sort of smart fabric. The curved, walls were a deep peaceful blue, the colour of disphotic ocean. At precisely her eye level a screen sat, eerily displaying flight information. The eerie part was not the flight data, but the English labels identifying it.

    On another monitor her vitals blinked and winked, documented scrupulously by current medical terms, some of which she was unfamiliar with. The aliens apeared to know English better than she did. 

    She watched, anxiously, as the time approached the e.t.a.. It was seven minutes, now four...

    Now three...

    She tugged the kinetic restraint straps holding her to the chair. They yielded slightly, and then tightened again. Everything was comfortable, the light was comfortable, the chair was comfortable, the straps were comfortable, the read outs were in English the e.t.a. was in minutes. Too comfortable, she thought. Something or someone was trying to put her at ease, which in and of itself was uneasy.

    Two minutes...

    Why was everything perfect for a human? How did they know?

    One minute....

    The quad thrusters driving the pods progress stopped, and the two g's of gravity ceased, suddenly. The slow rotation of gravity assisted steering turned the tiny craft, and in front, through the edge of the glass portal, an elegant craft slid into view, drifting quietly, and purposely into her trajectory.

    There was a hole, in the side exposed to her, a circular hole, like the iris of a camera, growing slowly. If one were to examine it with a clear magnifine class, and an oxy-acetaline torch, one might just be able to make out precisely machined plates sliding across each other, making the most precise of mechanical mechanisms on earth look loose and wobbly. Without such a vantage point it would probably look closer to some organic valve.

    The inside of the craft was dark, for just a moment, before the inside became illuminated by a warm light, a cozy light, like a camp fire, or a house. 

    The little pod drifted inside, and the irise closed smoothly behind it. Suddenly down reasserted itself, and the little pod fell three centimeters, clicking into the floor, almost like it was all planned.

    She became aware, slowly, of a faint hissing sound. Outside of the pod, inside of the room in the larger craft, white vapor was pouring in. Nitrogen, her brother might have told her, nitrogen and oxygen, stored under pressure as a liquid, rapidly vaporizing into a breathable atmosphere. 

    She waited patiently for air fill the cargo bay, as patiently as one can wait aboard an alien spacecraft. The hissing was much louder now, and the vapor much less conspicuous. The air pressure must be higher. 

    The harness fell away, and she stood, stretching. The seven minute journey had felt like ages. The hatch on the pod fell away, and she stepped out of the pod, into the cargo bay. She took a deep breath, and smelled...

    Nothing, of course.

    The airlock in the closest wall, an airlock obviously made for giants, six meters in diameter, and the same deep blue of the pod, whirred into life. It seemed she was about to meet her hosts.

ao3 discord

Hey, so this is the first chapter of another work set in the humans are weird universe i have been developing, am setting out to develop, so if you like it check it out on ao3, where I will be publishing the rest.

#humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are wierd #earth is space australia #humans are crazy

[passengerseatsam]

this is us trying

pairing: eddie munson x female reader word count: 2k summary: after his name is cleared, eddie is determined to graduate. you're pretty sure it's a bad idea. warnings: suicide (briefly mentioned); swearing; angst; established relationship; post-canon notes: please reblog + give feedback!

“Are you sure you want to do this? 

Eddie hasn’t said a word since he picked you up at your house. You had climbed into the van to find him nearly bursting at the seams, fingers thumping on the steering wheel, leg bouncing furiously. Despite this, his eyes were fixed squarely ahead of him. The radio blared— a wall of guitar and drums that precluded any attempt at speaking to him. He was kinetic, bursting, yet somehow restrained. For once, he was driving under the speed limit. It was a clear indication that he was not good. 

Now, he’s parked in the very back of the lot, about as far away from Hawkins High as he can get. The quad is abuzz, the daily swarm of several hundred teenagers filing in before first period. They’re cheerful, for the most part, vivacious as they always are in the space between spring break and summer vacation, where things are winding down. They don’t notice the van tucked into the far corner, or Eddie, watching forlornly. Class starts in ten minutes. He turns the radio down, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to move.

It’s the first day back since the championship game. The school had remained closed for a while after the earthquake. In the meantime, and with Hopper back on the police force, the search for Eddie Munson ended abruptly. The deaths were not the work of a teen serial killer, they announced, but a series of unrelated freak accidents. The town accepted the explanation with a sort of morbid, cynical ambivalence. This wasn’t the first mass-casualty event in Hawkins to have an unsatisfying ending. Besides, the earthquake left most people with their own problems to worry about. The news cycles on. 

Eddie had spent two weeks in the hospital. It took dozens of stitches, a few blood transfusions, and some humiliating physical therapy before he was able to hold his own weight again. The scars were beginning to heal, taut pale lines that he keeps mostly hidden under layers and long sleeves. He’s not a hundred percent, and will probably never be. Regardless, the doctors agreed that the recovery was remarkable. 

Hawkins High, however, is likely to disagree.

For now, he white-knuckles the steering wheel with both hands, as if the parked car is moving a hundred miles an hour. His face is contorted, lip curled, a distance in his eyes that puts him somewhere in outer space. For a moment, you’re not even sure that he heard you. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, at last. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, fingers winding tightly into his frizzy bangs. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.” 

“Really, Eddie, there’s no shame in—” 

“In what? Dropping out after three senior years?” he cuts you off, frustration dripping from every word.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you sigh. You’re trying to be delicate, supportive, but it’s a hard line to walk. You used to know Eddie’s mind, inside and out— used to be able to guess what he was thinking before he told you. But since Chrissy, since Vecna, he’s been a mystery. He’s changed, now, and you don’t always know what’s bouncing around in his head. You angle your body toward him as best you can in the crowded space, knees bent up at an awkward angle. You try to catch his eyes, but his gaze is still trained forward, focused upon whatever scene is playing out in his head.

Neither of you really knows what to do. There’s no handbook on how to return to school after being accused of murder. 

Furthermore, you had tried to talk him out of this. Wayne had brought it up first, while Eddie was still in a hospital bed, softly mentioning that he could get Eddie a job at the plant if he wanted. No questions asked, he had promised. You’d be on the night shift with me. A GED is just as good as a diploma, kid. The benefit to that, of course, was that the nocturnal schedule would keep most of Hawkins’ eyes off of him. But Eddie had shot that down swiftly; he hadn’t even wanted to discuss it. And Wayne, never one to push hard, had let it go.

He’s just as resolute now, despite the way his fingers are twitching. “What are you saying, then?” 

“I’m saying that it’s April. School ends in six weeks. I don’t think anyone would blame you if you decided not to torture yourself.”

He considers this, maybe, for about half a second. You watch it flit across his face before it turns stony again. “No. I didn’t army-crawl my way through six years of high school to get a goddamned GED. I’m doing this.”

The determination shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Eddie has always been capable of doing what he sets his mind to— his guitar, his intricate D&D campaigns, whatever. But he’s never set his mind to school before. You had always kind of assumed that he was still in high school because he wanted to be. It took effort to fail as wholly and spectacularly as he did— two years in a row. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t do it; he simply didn’t want to. 

You had believed him when, before spring break, he had passively announced that this was his last year. Eighty-six, baby, you and me. But that was then, and this, now, is a totally different ballgame. If his diploma comes at the expense of his safety, then you don’t care for it. You’d be lying if you said that your stomach wasn’t in knots, thinking about what’s waiting inside the school. 

And that’s it, really: you’re afraid. Wayne is afraid, too. If Eddie dropped out and went to work at the plant, it would be miserable, but at least he’d be safe. Once he’s there— out of this car, in the vicious hallways— you can’t protect him anymore. You have an image of Jason Carver in your head, of him and his goons outside the War Zone, packing shopping bags into Andy’s Jeep Cherokee. There were so many bags, so much ammunition. You were hunting interdimensional monsters; they were hunting Eddie. It still makes your hands shake to think about. He’s been cleared, now, but only technically. Jason and Patrick are gone, but Andy and the rest of them are still there. The rest of the student body is still there. Hawkins is still there. That kind of hatred doesn’t fade so fast.

It’s the best excuse not to graduate he’s ever had, and yet here he is, digging his heels in, throwing himself into the lions’ den. Leave it to Eddie.

“You don’t owe them anything, you know,” you say, as tactfully as you can manage. Your voice is thin. There’s a lump in your throat, trying to push unhelpful emotions to the surface, but you hold onto it tightly. He still won’t fucking look at you; instead, he’s sticking a finger under his leather bracelet, rubbing at the pink scar that encircles his wrist. Looking at it only twists the knots in your stomach. “I mean it. Andy, Mrs. O’Donnell, Principal Higgins— fuck them. You don’t have to prove yourself to them.” 

“It’s not that,” he mutters. “I’m done running. I didn’t run from the goddamned bats; I’m not gonna run from the Hawkins varsity basketball team.” His voice is lead-heavy, solemn as the grave. It’s a tone that you’re still not used to from him— the boy who used to be all carefree bombast and grandeur. He made this promise to himself, for better or for worse, and he meant it. “Just. Just give me a minute.” 

He lets out a loud breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s moments like these that remind you how grateful you are to be looking at him, at all. It hits you sometimes, over the past couple weeks— leaves your knees weak and your mouth dry to realize just how lucky you are that he’s here and not… Not. You can be patient as long as you get to watch his hands flex, watch his forehead scrunch and his tongue run over his teeth while he thinks. 

For days, you’ve been trying to understand why he’s so determined to throw himself into the lions' den. It’s not about Andy, or Mrs. O’Donnell, or Principal Higgins. It’s about him. It’s about proving to himself that he can start what he finishes, even if it scares the both of you.

“Okay,” you breathe. There are only a few minutes left to give. The bell is going to ring soon. You shift, watching the last clusters of kids shuffle through the front door. Maybe it’d be better to wait it out, slip into your respective homerooms once everyone is already seated and quiet. On the other hand, maybe you shouldn’t get detention on your first day back. 

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Eddie says, “This is gonna suck so hard.” There’s no getting around that. “Yep.” “I’m sorry. I should’ve dropped you off a block away, or something.” The sudden redirect catches you off guard. Your face betrays you, twisting up in confusion, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Walking in with me is gonna be social suicide. You’re basically an accessory to murder.” 

You laugh before you can help it. It’s so out of left-field, yet so earnest— so perfectly Eddie to be fretting about your dignity when you haven’t even thought twice about it. “I think it’s a little late to be worried about that.” 

He nods, contemplative, but thankfully doesn’t push that point any further. There’s no reason to. It’s a dead-end, the way that trying to convince him to put the van in drive and go back home is a dead-end. “Okay. Shit.” He talks through grit teeth, battling with himself just to unbuckle his seatbelt. The moment you’ve both been dreading has come. Just because he’s decided that he needs to do this, doesn’t mean that it’s easy. “Gotta rip the band-aid off sometime. Let’s go.”

And although you’d like to convince him to keep the band-aid on forever, you know he’s right.

The pre-summer air is warm and deceptively inviting. You stretch your legs, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. Eddie hasn’t carried a backpack since his junior year; he has a pencil, a pack of cigarettes and a bag of pretzels stuffed into his pockets, and that’s all he needs. 

You wriggle your hand into his and squeeze. For the first time all morning, he looks at you— really looks at you. His pupils are blown, bottom lip swollen and chewed pink. His grasp locks around yours, vice-tight, the curve of his rings digging bruises in the spaces between your fingers. The mask of determination is back on his face, jaw set firmly, shoulders tense. You just wish you had the same tenacity. He can flip-flop and flounder all he likes, tucked away in the safety of his van— but out here, he’s undaunted. No one can say he’s not brave.

“Thanks,” he says, softer than he’s spoken all day. “For being here.” Thank you for being here, you want to say. Upright and breathing. 

There are fates worse than this. As nervous as you are, you know in your gut that there are a dozen ways this could have ended worse. He’s here. He’s alive and in one piece. And although you don’t fully understand why he wants to throw himself into the lions’ den— you’re willing to go with him. After all, you followed him into Mordor once already. 

Maybe you both have a lot to be thankful for.

Instead of spilling your heart out all over the high school parking lot, you decide to make light. “After this, we’re picking up a pizza.” 

He snorts a laugh, and though his grin is half hearted, it’s there. It loosens something in your chest, something that has been achingly tight for weeks now. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“And getting high as hell.”

“That’s a given.”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson angst #written by me #my posts

[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

[diabolus1exmachina]

Lamborghini Islero 

Built as a replacement for the 400GT, the Islero was introduced at the 1968 Geneva Auto Show. Its name, like the earlier Miura and Espada models, was inspired by Spanish bullfighting. Styling is by Carrozzeria Marazzi, and aluminum bodywork is wrapped over a tubular steel chassis. The car had impressive performance for the era, including a 0-60 time of about six and a half seconds and a top speed in excess of 150 mph. A three-spoke steering wheel frames a suite of Jaeger instrumentation, including a 200-mph speedometer, 8k-rpm tachometer, ammeter, fuel-level indicator, oil and water temperature gauges, and an oil pressure gauge. The clock was also rebuilt and the wiring for the wipers, turn signals, and headlights was repaired. A three-spoke steering wheel frames a suite of Jaeger instrumentation, including a 200-mph speedometer, 8k-rpm tachometer, ammeter, fuel-level indicator, oil and water temperature gauges, and an oil pressure gauge. The clock was also rebuilt by the current owner and the wiring for the wipers, turn signals, and headlights was repaired. The 3.9L quad-cam V12 was rated for 325 horsepower when new and is paired with a five-speed manual transmission. Induction is handled by six Weber carburetors. The engine was removed for cosmetic detailing by the owner, including repainting the air cleaner housings and coolant expansion tank. The clutch slave cylinder was also repaired and a new ignition coil, spark plugs, and heater hoses were installed.

#Lamborghini Islero #400GT #Miura #Espada #Carrozzeria Marazzi #jaeger #V12

[seat-safety-switch]

If you’ve never given much thought to towing a car, be thankful. There is a sort of moment that passes as you descend further and further into car-ownership madness. Originally, you are just a tow consumer – a random person of good breeding and upbringing who needs their broken car moved to a place where it can be fixed. Then, as you start to get a taste for the good stuff in life, you quickly realize that you must transition into the provision of tows.

Let’s think about the economics of a tow. You’re paying for the truck, the fuel, the driver’s labour, their boss’s labour, their boss’s labour, and a vig to whatever organized crime group (the police?) that they work for. Do that two or three times in a year, and buying a shitty truck with a halfway-shitty car hauling trailer starts to make a lot of sense. If you’re like me, and you’re pulling home broken garbage every weekend, you don’t need an accountant to tell you it’s a good idea.

Here’s the Catch-22, though: any truck and trailer combo I can afford is so broken that they themselves would need a tow truck to get them back to my home. Trucks have become expensive luxury items, and trailers are required for my neighbours to store non-running quads and boats on, so that they can never take them anywhere. So I’m stuck with using some of my garbage to haul home new garbage. This is where the innovation of the “flat tow” comes from.

Although it’s illegal in most municipalities, and considered to be an affront to God Himself by the Vatican, flat towing is often the most practical way of moving one car when all you have is another car. You loop a rope or chain between the two cars and then drive away, pulling the broken car behind you like a sort of two-ton rattlesnake. Your most expendable buddy sits in the unpowered car and strongarm-steers it around corners (assuming the steering still works) and you try not to kill them. Then, you make sure not to stop too abruptly (i.e. for lights) just in case the following car doesn’t actually have brakes, and try not to turn too sharply either, lest you sever the rope and have to make a new friend. When you get to your house, you only have to replace the transmissions in both cars, and you’re done.

Is it a good idea? Absolutely not. Is it an effective technique? Yes, in moderation. For instance, you don’t want the cops to see you, so it’s a good idea to only do it at night, or in especially bad weather. And hey, even if you fuck it up, you’ll be paying money to be towed for a shorter distance than you would otherwise. That is, assuming you don’t do a lot of this flat-towing near particularly steep mountain roads.

[shutterbug-12]

First and Last Lines

rules: post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted.

Tagged by @homerjacksons. Thanks! Doing this because I'm hoping it gives me some motivation to do some writing. I have been tired lately and entirely unproductive. So, fingers crossed. Note: fics below are finished unless otherwise noted.

Take the Long Way Home (Ashes to Ashes/Ripper Street crossover; Alex Drake/Edmund Reid) WIP, so these are the first/last lines of the first chapter.

First line: “Am I under arrest?”

Last line: “Another drink?”

2. Sweetheart From Another Life (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Emily Reid) WIP, one more chapter left to write. I should really get on that.

Edmund sat in a hard, straight-backed chair, still but for the erratic tap tap-tap of his foot.

And a man who would come to be known as Jack hit the pale face of a young whore until it was red-raw. 

3. Magic Bus (House MD; Gen)

"You're dead," House said, voice flat, matter-of-fact.

Then, with a shake of his head, House stepped off the bus.

4. Eden Sank to Grief (House MD; House/Stacy)

“How did you beat me home?”

She felt her heart lurch as Greg peered over his shoulder to meet her eyes before the nurse steered him around a corner and took him away from her.

5. And They Lived (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Jane Cobden) Part I complete; Part II WIP.

Edmund had written difficult letters in his life, but none harder than this. 

Toward their future and their home. 

6. For the Lads and Lasses (Ted Lasso; Keeley Jones/Roy Kent, Jaime Tartt)

The sign made him say it. 

Oh, fuck yes. 

7. Off the Record (Ted Lasso; Trent Crimm, Ted Lasso)

Trent Crimm (formerly of The Independent) sat on the bright, yellow-green lawn of the Tom Quad, Christ Church, Oxford, late in the afternoon.

With a little smile, Ted said, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and nudged him toward the podium.

8. A New One (Ted Lasso; Keeley Jones/Roy Kent)

Apart from the usual idiocy that came with every standard six-year-old, Phoebe hadn’t been painted with the half-wit brush as much as Roy liked to claim.

Only when he went back to his place did he ring Keeley, with a cup of tea in his hand and his new blankie draped across his lap.

9. Taste Test (Ted Lasso; Gen)

When Ted waltzed his way into Rebecca’s office—and actually waltzed because, first of all, his backpack made a mighty fine dance partner, and, second, he’d felt like dancing ever since they’d eked out a win the other day against Chelsea late in the second half. 

Smiling, he shouted over his shoulder, “Y’all are the best! Get ready for a real hootenanny!” 

10. Flowers in the Dirt (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Jane Cobden)

Before the Yard had exiled Jackson to America--his home, Ed reminded himself; not a punishment, but his home--Jackson had pulled him aside and said, “Look, Reid. Before I leave, I should teach you a thing or two.”

And I smile with her.

Tagging: @casadegatos, @nautilicious, @punkascas, @puffologic, @hondagirll and anyone else who'd enjoy doing this. It was pretty fun.

#ripper street #ted lasso #house md #fic #a little trip down fic memory lane #might be fun to do this with the FIRST fics i posted #anyway #enjoy if you'd like

[1solone]

Husband:

My wife is missing.

She went to rescue people from the flood yesterday and has not come home...

Sergeant at Police Station:

What is her height?

Husband:

Gee, I'm not sure. A little over five-feet tall.

Sergeant:

Weight?

Husband:

Don't know. Not slim, not really fat.

Sergeant:

Color of eyes?

Husband:

Sort of brown I think. Never really noticed.

Sergeant:

Color of hair?

Husband:

Changes a couple times a year.

Maybe dark brown now.

I can’t remember.

Sergeant:

What was she wearing?

Husband:

Could have been pants, or maybe a skirt or shorts. I don't know exactly.

Sergeant:

What kind of car did she go in?

Husband:

She went in my Jeep.

Sergeant:

What kind of Jeep was it?

Husband: (sobbing)

It's a 2019 Rubicon with Sprintex Supercharger with Intercooler, DiabloSport T-1000 Trinity Programmer, Teraflex Falcon 3.3 Shocks ,1350 RE Reel Drive Shafts, Method 105 Bead Locks, Toyo 37" X 13.5" Tires, Custom Olympic Off Road Front Bumper, Olympic Off Road Smuggler Rear Bumper with tire carrier, Seward Radius 4s LED Light, Seward 12" LED Light bar, 50" LED Light bar with, sPod LED switch pod with Boost gage,, Rigid LED Lights, 15# Power Tank, Rock Hard Cage, Rock Hard Under Armor, Posion Spyder Sliders, Posion Spyder Crusher Fenders, Posion Spyder Evap Armor, Posion Spyder Extreme Duty Trans-Mount Cross Member, Bushwacker rear armor, 5.13 Gears, Magnum 44 Front Axle, Off Road Evolution "C" Gussets, Cobra 75 CB Radio, Warn 10K on Front and 8K Winch on Rear, Bartact Seat Covers, Delta Quad Bar Xenon Headlamps,Tantrum LED Offroad Rock Lights, Teraflex HD Tie Rod, Teraflex Falcon Steering Stabilizer, Teraflex Alpine Long Control Arms Front & Rear, Teraflex 4" springs, Teraflex JK Performance Slotted Big Rotor Kit, TeraFlex Monster HD Forged Front Adjustable Trackbar, Teraflex Front & Rear Brake Line Kit, Teraflex Bump Stops Front & Rear, Surprise Straps, Hothead Headliner, Teraflex D-44 Diff Covers, Wild Boar Grille, Rigid Ridge Hood, Drake Hood Latch's & a Tuffy Security Drawer......

(At this point, the sobbing has turned into a full cry.)

Sergeant:

Don't worry buddy. We'll find your Jeep.