#Trailer Electrical Services

[anaxus-trikon]

Your Solution for Auto Electrical Problems - ACT Auto Sydney

Facing auto electrical problems? ACT Auto Electrical in Sydney has the knowledge and expertise to identify and fix issues, no matter the size. Contact us for reliable and cutting-edge solutions.

[redlandscoast]

Electric brake switch Thornlands

Redland Coast Towbars is a reputable company in Thornlands that provides a wide range of towing solutions, including electric brake switches. Electric brake switches are essential for towing vehicles with electric trailer brakes. We work by sending an electric signal to the trailer brakes, which applies the brakes when the vehicle brakes are applied.

Redland Coast Towbars offers high-quality electric brake switches that are durable and easy to use. Our team of experts can assist in selecting the right switch for your vehicle and ensure proper installation. We also offer comprehensive maintenance and repair services to ensure your electric brake switch continues to function optimally.

The team at Redland Coast Towbars is highly trained and experienced in all aspects of towing, including electric brake switches. We are committed to providing excellent customer service and ensuring your satisfaction with our products and services. Our pricing is competitive, and use only the highest quality materials to ensure your safety on the road.

Overall, if you are in Thornlands and need an electric brake switch for your towing needs, Redland Coast Towbars is an excellent choice. We offer high-quality products, expert installation and maintenance services, and a commitment to customer satisfaction.

[interviewhelps]

Top 25 Job Interview Questions for Diesel Mechanic

Here are the Top 25 Job Interview Questions for Diesel Mechanic What motivated you to pursue a career as a diesel mechanic? What kind of experience do you have in repairing diesel engines? Can you describe your process for diagnosing diesel engine issues? How do you stay current with new technologies and advancements in diesel engine repair? Can you explain how you handle challenging repairs or…

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another thankless day of serving cold cuts and cheese to the general public as you ready to tear your hair out. You don’t see how anyone could make such a fuss about a trip to the deli but the locals have a way of exacerbating any simplicity. You’re just happy to be free. 

The bus is late. You stand at the curb and bounce on your heels. You just want to lay down. The lack of sleep is starting to split your skull. 

You yawn and watch a truck blow by. It’s a sleepy old town, nestled between farmland and stretches of dirty roads. The sort of backwoods you don’t drive through after dark. It’s so dull you could fall asleep on your feet. 

A sudden gust of air rips through the sky and the unusual whirlwind circles you. You look up through slitted eyes as dirty speckles across your face. You furrow your brow as lights and flames glow as a red figure lands in front of you.

The electric blue haze goes out and your faced with the suit of crimson and gold. You grip your purse strap and gulp. You haven’t checked your phone yet. You couldn’t have predicted this. 

“Shit.” You mutter. 

His helmet snaps back and he smirks. The silver streaks in his dark hair puff out and he smooths them down. He puts his hand on his hip and scoffs, “name’s Tony Stark, thanks.” 

You cringe and cross your arms. “We met.” 

“Yeah, I remember you. Nearly forgot before everything blew up. You know, this thing...” he pauses to take his phone out. “Hasn’t shut up all fucking day. I got lawyers down my throat--” 

“Your phone is blowing up? My house blew up.” You sneer. 

“Okay, relax. It was a trailer. I said I’d replace it--” 

“Then do it.” 

“Ooh, spicy. I didn’t guess you to be the type but after seeing your little online storytelling, I shoulda guessed.” 

“It’s the truth. That’s it.” You turn to watch for the bus. You’re aware of the few people slowing to stare at the man in his techno-suit. 

“I mean, a little gratitude here, honey. I’m more than happy to slap a new box in the lot but you don’t gotta be this way about it.” He derides. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and scowl. “At least a smile. Bet you’re gorgeous when you smile.” 

He winks and you flinch. Really? 

“Fine. Once we have a new trailer, I’ll delete the post. Sounds pretty fair to me.” 

“Now. Take it down now and then we can go shopping for a new train car,” he chirps. 

You frown and face him. “It’s just a post.” 

“I got a reputation, sweetheart. I’m important that way. I know you might not be able to fathom that but one busted up hellhole is nothing compared to what I do for this planet. Didn’t you see me on the TV, handing out lollipops to hurricane survivors? What are you doing besides whine on the internet?” He stares you down, his expression turning sinister as his grin fades. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then it shouldn’t take much, should it?” You challenge. 

“Wow, you sure are mouthy, aren’t you?” 

“I’m tired.” You peer down the street again. “I worked a full shift and my feet hurt. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? With your penthouse and your dad’s money.” 

“I earned my company.” He snarls. “You watch where you’re stepping, sweetheart. I’m being nice. I flew all the way back to this ditch, so let’s not play dirty.” 

Your heart races. You don’t know why you’ve said so much. Maybe because you’ve worn a customer service smile all day and you’re all out of fucks to give?

And what do you have left to lose? A family that treats you like a gnat flying around their heads and a musty old futon. Your life wasn’t great before but damn if he didn’t make it a whole lot worse. 

“You do whatever. You’re Tony Stark. Iron Man.” Your tone is deflated and monotone. “I can’t do anything about it, can I? Just whine on the internet?” 

You step further down the sidewalk and stare at the approaching headlights. The bus is finally there. Even if he really means to replace the dusty old shithole, you don’t need his self-aggrandized kindness. Not if this is how it’s delivered. 

You pull out your bus fare as you sway beneath the sign. A sharp noise tweaks your ear and you’re seized in a metal vice. Your arms are trapped against your sides as Tony zooms up into the sky, the air whipping around your face as you holler in horror. 

“What-- are—you—doing?” You shriek as you wriggle, kicking into the empty void around you. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice rises from behind his helmet. “You’re gonna wanna be still. If I drop you, you’re gonna hit the ground like a bug on a windshield.” 

“What the fuck?” You exclaim and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Just givin’ you a lift home. Like a nice guy would do.” He chuckles. “Now don’t breathe too heavy up here. At this altitude... well...” 

You put your head down, shielding it against the shoulder plate of his suit, and you bend your arms to cling to him. You have no other choice but to hold on for dear life.

You get his point. Tony Stark is more than money. He can do whatever the hell he wants. 

[alottiegoingon]

HIDDEN

natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

summary: you and nat study together.

warnings: reader and nat have a crush on each other, indirect flirting, nat lives in a trailer, not proofread.

the evening sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small, run-down trailer, casting a warm glow over the cluttered interior. books and notes were scattered across the worn-out coffee table, where natalie sat cross-legged, her fingers idly flipping through the pages of her history textbook.

you sat opposite her, your own textbooks spread out in front of you. the air was thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you two for months. friends, yes, but always teetering on the edge of something more. it was in the way her eyes lingered on you a moment too long, in the playful banter that always seemed to have an underlying meaning.

"you know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you spent half as much time studying as you do with that eyeliner, you'd probably ace this test."

natalie smirked, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have time to show off my impressive ability to make straight a's and perfect wings," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

you laughed, shaking your head. "fair point. but really, nat, you need to focus. mr. benson is gonna grill us on the civil war tomorrow."

she groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. "i know, i know. it's just...so boring. why can't history have more explosions or something?"

"pretty sure there were plenty of explosions during the civil war," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "you just have to know where to look."

natalie rolled her eyes but leaned forward, her elbow resting on the table as she glanced at your notes. "alright, impress me with your historical knowledge then."

you launched into a brief explanation of the major battles, trying to make it as engaging as possible. every so often, you'd catch her eye, and there it was – that spark, that hint of something more. you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your conversation. you teased each other mercilessly, yet there was an underlying tenderness in every jibe. it was in the way she nudged your foot with hers under the table, the way her laughter lit up her face and made your heart skip a beat.

at one point, you leaned over to grab a highlighter, your hand brushing against hers. a jolt of electricity shot through you, and you saw her eyes widen ever so slightly. neither of you moved, the contact lingering just a second too long before you pulled away, your cheeks flushed.

"see," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're actually pretty smart when you try."

natalie snorted, but there was a softness in her gaze. "don't get used to it. i'm only doing this because you begged me."

"begged? i seem to recall you saying you needed help, and i graciously offered my services," you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips.

she chuckled, shaking her head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

the playful banter continued like a dance, the two of you circling around the truth but never quite touching it. you wanted to say something, to break the barrier and let her know how you felt, but the fear of ruining what you had held you back.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, the trailer was bathed in a soft, golden light. you closed your textbook, stretching your arms over your head. "i think that's enough for today. we should probably get some rest if we're gonna survive the class tomorrow."

natalie nodded, closing her own book with a sigh of relief. "yeah, you're right. thanks for... helping me out."

there was a moment of silence. you could see the conflict in her eyes, the same battle you were fighting within yourself. finally, she stood up.

"guess i'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

you nodded, standing up as well. "yeah, see you tomorrow, nat."

as she walked you towards the door, you felt a pang of regret. you didn't want to leave things unsaid, but the words were lodged in your throat. just as she reached for the handle, already opening it for you, you blurted out, "hey, nat?"

she turned around, her eyes searching yours. "yeah?"

you took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "i...i just wanted to say...you're not as useless as you think you are. you're actually pretty amazing."

a flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a soft smile that she quickly hid. "don't get all soft on me," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly was the last thing you saw before leaving the trailer.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #11

March 22-29 2024

The Administration, with Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg in the lead responded to the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore. Working with Governor Wes Moore and Mayor Brandon Scott (both Democrats) The Department of Transportation promises to clear the harbor and rebuild the bride. DoT has already released $60 million in emergency funds as a "down payment" and President Biden is expected to seek $1 billion from Congress.

Vice President Harris announced a number of actions and investments designed to improve the quality of life of the peoples of northern central America. driven by poverty, lack of economic opportunities, and out of control crime people in Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras are taking great risks and trusting criminal human traffickers to try to reach the US. The Administration is working to improve conditions in the Northern Triangle so that is no longer necessary. Vice President Harris announced $1 billion dollars in new investments as part of the Central America Forward public-private partnership, since 2021 it has invested $5.2 billion in the region. Harris also announced $175 million dollars of direct aid from the US to Guatemala at a meeting with Guatemalan President Bernardo Arévalo.

The Department of Energy announced a $1.5 billion dollar loan to help restart the Palisades Nuclear Plant. This would mark the first time a nuclear power plant was brought back online after being decommissioned. The hope is keep the plant running till 2051, this 100% green power source is projected to prevent 111 million tons of CO2 emissions in its new life time, the same as taking 100,000 cars off the road. Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer touted it as key for her state reaching its goal of 100% clean energy by 2040.

Vice President Harris launched a social media push to inform the public about the Biden-Harris Administration's SAVE Plan. The Saving on a Valuable Education (SAVE) Plan was launched last year as part of President Biden's efforts to bring student loan forgiveness to millions of borrowers. Currently 7.7 million people are enrolled in SAVE, under which anyone making $16 a hour or less has a monthly payment of $0 on their student loans. 4.5 million SAVE enrollees are making $0 a month payments and another 1 million pay less than $100 a month on their loan repayment, over 150,000 people so far have had their loans totally forgiven. Republicans are suing to try to shut down the SAVE Plan

President Biden took keep steps to ensure quality healthcare this week. Biden extended the window for low-income Americans to apply for Obamacare. The original deadline of July 31st has been pushed back to November 30th. Biden also rolled back Trump era rules that allowed subsidies for "Junk Health insurance" These plans offer very little coverage and often mislead consumers into believing they have insurance when they aren't covered. These short term plans also don't have meet Obamacare standards and can refuse coverage for preexisting conditions.

The EPA announced new regulations aimed at "turbocharging" the number of electric trucks on the road. The new rules aim to have 25% of new long-haul trucks, the heaviest often diesel trucks on the road, and 40% of medium-size trucks (box trucks and landscaping vehicles) be nonpolluting by 2032, currently just 2% are. The regulation would apply to more than 100 types of vehicles including tractor-trailers, ambulances, R.V.s, garbage trucks and moving vans. The new tailpipe limits are expected to prevent about a billion tons of greenhouse gas emissions by 2055.

the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services  announced that thanks to President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, 41 different drugs will coast those on Medicare Part B less money than it did last year.  An estimated 763,700 people on Medicare use at least one of these drugs every year. Some enrollees will save as much as $3,575 per dose.

The Department of Energy announced $6 billion for an effort to decarbonize energy-intensive industries. The investment in 33 projects across 20 states will eliminate 14 million metric tons of CO2 emissions each year when finished. Each project is meant to be highly replicable and serve as a blueprint for future private sector ventures. 

President Biden signed an Executive Order to Strengthen the Recognition of Women’s History. The Order will launch a review of all historic sites run by the National Parks Service to determine ways to better highlight the role of women, from all backgrounds, in American History.

The Senate Confirmed President Biden's nominees, Ernesto Gonzalez, and Leon Schydlower to federal judgeships in Texas. This brings the total number of federal judges appointed by President Biden to 190.

[motherismotheringggg]

Hi ! Can you do one of Cooper? The reader was actress/actor. The reader was friends with Cooper and the reader sister knew that the reader was/had fan/crush on Cooper and the reader sister told Cooper that the reader had a crush on him?

finally yours 🩵

summary: see the request above, thank you to this lovely anon <3

type: fluff, fluff and more fluff

tags: kissing

author’s note: this was so sweet to write, man i love a lil fluff moment 😭

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You and Cooper had met on a red carpet about a year ago, a night that clearly belonged to him. He was dazzlingly popular, sweeping nearly every category, and it felt like everyone wanted his time. Amid the flashing lights and applause, he held himself with a calm, gracious air, even as fans, journalists, and other celebrities flocked around him.

From afar, you couldn’t help but admire him, captivated by both his talent and his looks. Cooper was stunning in that classic way, with sharp cheekbones and a warm, inviting smile that lit up his face. His hazel eyes held a warmth that softened his otherwise chiseled features, making his charm and confidence feel magnetic.

When his eyes met yours, he rushed over, leaving you stunned. Did he mistake you for someone else? “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m a big fan,” he said, towering over you as he pulled you into an embrace. You were stunned; you’d become a bit of a sensation recently, with your latest movie creating major buzz, but for Cooper to call himself a fan truly shook you.

He continued to shower you in compliments, his words warm and sincere as he praised your work and told you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Before you could fully process it, he’d wrapped his arms around you again, his broad hands resting on your back and making you feel small and secure in his hold.

As he pulled back, still keeping you close, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. Blushing, you managed to say, “Congratulations on tonight—you deserve it. You were brilliant in Monsters,” reaching out to squeeze his arm. You felt the defined muscles beneath his suit jacket, and your heart fluttered a bit.

His smile softened, and he pulled you in for another hug, his hands lingering slightly as if he didn’t want to let go. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear. “I’ll see you around tonight,” he added with a lingering smile.

Throughout the after-party, you kept running into each other, each interaction feeling warmer and more personal than the last. By the end of the night, he handed you his phone with a grin. “Let’s keep in touch,” he said, his eyes holding a hint of something more. You saved your number, feeling breathless as you handed his phone back.

————

A few years had passed since that unforgettable red carpet-meeting, and you and Cooper had become inseparable. Whether at events, concerts, or casual hangouts, your bond grew stronger with every shared experience. Fans adored seeing you together, dubbing you a “Hollywood dream duo,” and when it was announced that you’d finally be starring in a project together, the internet erupted in excitement over your electric chemistry.

Filming had been underway for a month, and you and Cooper had grown closer than ever. Every long day on set was balanced by shared laughter, lingering glances, and the comfort of having someone who understood you completely. Cooper had a way of bringing out your best—both on-screen and off. He’d always linger near your trailer, insisting his lunch break was better spent in your company than anywhere else. There were late-night runs to the craft services tent, where you’d tease him for his snack choices, and stolen moments in between takes where your banter flowed effortlessly, leaving everyone around you grinning.

On this particular day, you’d invited your younger sister to visit the set, eager to share a piece of your world with her. Though only two years younger, she had a knack for noticing things most people missed and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind—a combination that often led to hilariously blunt observations or moments of piercing clarity.

She was lounging in your trailer, her legs propped up on the small table as she flipped idly through a magazine. “So this is where the magic happens?” she teased, glancing up with a smirk.

“Something like that,” you replied, rolling your eyes but smiling, finishing up your hair at the trailer vanity.

Your sister’s sharp gaze scanned the trailer like she was piecing together a puzzle. “It’s cozier than I expected. Guess I thought movie-star trailers were all champagne and crystal chandeliers.”

“You’ve been watching too much reality TV,” you said, shaking your head.

Before she could retort, a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in!” you called out.

The door swung open to reveal Cooper, his signature grin lighting up the space. “Heard your sister was here,” he said, stepping inside. “Thought I’d come and say hi.”

Your sister immediately straightened, her analytical gaze locking onto Cooper like a hawk sizing up its prey. You couldn’t help but chuckle internally; you knew this was her version of sizing him up.

“This is my sister Jade” you said, gesturing toward her. “And this is Cooper, my—”

“... absolute best friend in the entire world,” he finished for you, extending his hand toward her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” your sister said, shaking his hand firmly. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a look you recognized all too well—the “I’m figuring you out” look. “So, you’re the one who’s always monopolizing her time?”

“Guilty,” Cooper said with a laugh, his eyes flicking to yours with a playful glint.

“You’re lucky you’re charming,” she quipped, a small smirk playing on her lips as she went in for a hug.

You groaned. “Ignore her. She thinks she’s hilarious.”

“Because I am,” she shot back, not missing a beat.

The three of you quickly settled into a rhythm, with Cooper cracking jokes and your sister firing back witty retorts that had him chuckling. You chimed in with playful commentary, adding to the lively dynamic, it felt like a comedy routine. Still, your sister’s sharp eye didn’t miss the way Cooper leaned toward you when he laughed or how his gaze lingered on you just a little longer than necessary.

As the conversation flowed, Cooper’s natural warmth shone through, and your sister’s demeanor softened slightly. By the time he was called back to set, she was grinning as she watched him leave.

When the door shut behind him, the trailer fell into silence. You turned to your vanity to touch up your makeup, trying to ignore the goofy grin that had taken over your face.

“Okay, spill,” your sister said, breaking the quiet.

“Spill what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “So…that’s your boyfriend, or what?”

You whipped around, startled. “What? No! Cooper and I are just—”

“Absolute best friends?” she interrupted, folding her arms. “Please. I don’t know how you’ve convinced yourself of that, but the energy between you two? It’s practically a rom-com in real life. The banter, the looks, the body language—it’s all there.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she held up a hand to stop you. “And before you say I’m imagining things, let me remind you: I notice everything. You’re in love with him. Admit it.”

“I’m not—” you started, but the words faltered.

Your sister narrowed her eyes, her tone softening but still direct. “You can’t lie to me. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. And you hang on to his every single word he says.”

Her analysis hit like a punch to the chest. You turned back to the mirror, trying to collect your thoughts. “We’re just…really good friends,” you said quietly, though even you could hear the doubt in your voice.

“Sure,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “And I’m just here for the free snacks.”

You sighed letting out a chuckle, your fingers fiddling with a makeup brush. The truth was, she wasn’t wrong. You had been yearning for Cooper for years, hiding your feelings behind the safety of friendship. The thought of losing him—or complicating what you had—had always kept you from saying anything.

Before you could respond, a knock on the door signaled it was time for you to head back to set. “Think Cooper could show me around while you’re busy?” your sister asked, her tone casual but her smirk anything but.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure. But behave.”

“No promises,” she said with a wink as she followed you out.

————

Cooper led Jade around the set, his easygoing demeanor making even the chaotic environment feel inviting. He started with the soundstage, a cavernous space where cameras, lights, and crew buzzed with purpose. “This is where the magic happens—or, you know, where we fake it convincingly,” he quipped, pointing out the massive green screens and intricate camera rigs. He gestured to a detailed house facade, adding, “Looks sturdy, right? It’s just plywood. One strong gust, and it’s game over.”

From there, he showed her the wardrobe trailer, crammed with racks of costumes, and the prop room, a treasure trove of oddly specific items—everything from antique vases to fake food. Finally, they landed at the diner set, complete with retro booths, a jukebox, and gleaming countertops. “This one’s my favorite,” Cooper said as your sister slid into a booth, her eyes roaming over the immersive details. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember it’s not real.” She smirked at that, tapping the table thoughtfully. “Feels like it could be.” Cooper grinned, leaning in slightly, “That’s the goal.”

As they made their way back to your trailer, the air between Cooper and your sister felt easy and light. He paused just outside the door, hands tucked into his pockets, ready to say goodbye as she waited for you to wrap filming. There was a brief, comfortable silence before Jade tilted her head and asked, “So, how are you liking filming with my sister?”

Cooper’s face lit up instantly, and he didn’t hesitate. “Oh, she’s incredible,” he said, his voice full of sincerity. “She’s just… one of those people who makes everything better, you know? On set, off set—she’s so talented, so smart. And funny. Don’t even get me started on how funny she is.” His grin widened as he continued, “She has this way of making everyone feel comfortable, but she’s also so driven and sharp. Honestly, it’s kind of unfair that someone can be that amazing and still look as good as she does.” He chuckled, shaking his head, clearly caught up in his praise.

Your sister raised an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned against the trailer door. “So, when the movie wraps, is that when you guys are going to make your relationship public?”

Cooper froze for half a beat before laughing, the sound slightly louder and more nervous than usual. “What? No, no, we’re just friends,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink. “Really good friends, that’s all.”

But Jade wasn’t buying it. She squinted at him, her knowing look cutting straight through his weak denial. As she turned to open the trailer door, she tossed over her shoulder, “There’s nothing worse than two idiots in love trying to convince everyone else they aren’t.”

Cooper stood there, stunned into silence, watching the door close behind her. His jaw slackened slightly as her words sank in. She knew. And worse—he knew she was right.

————

Later that night, the set had quieted down, and you found yourself back in Cooper’s trailer, sharing dinner like you always did. The meal was simple but comforting, and the air between you was familiar—comfortable, even—but there was a faint, unspoken tension that neither of you addressed outright. Still, it wasn’t enough to interrupt your usual banter about the day’s filming.

“Thanks again for showing my sister around,” you said after a pause, your fork idly poking at your plate. “She seemed like she had fun, which is rare for her. She’s usually not impressed by much.”

“She was sweet,” Cooper said, leaning back in his chair. “Actually, she said she really admires your work ethic. Like, lowkey, she thinks you’re kind of amazing….and she’s not wrong” His tone was easy, but something about the way he said it made your heart skip.

You froze for a split second, trying to keep your face neutral. “Yeah, well,” you began, forcing a laugh, “sometimes she likes to make people feel nervous for fun. She’s, uh, super analytical like that—loves seeing people squirm. It’s kind of her thing.”

As casually as ever, he got up and crossed to the small couch in the corner, motioning for you to join him. “She told me a lot about you, though,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a weight that sent your stomach flipping.

Your heart dropped, a rush of panic hitting you square in the chest. You set your plate down and crossed your arms, trying to play it off. “Oh, God,” you said with an exaggerated groan. “What’d she say? Because honestly, sometimes she just talks to mess with people.”

Cooper smiled faintly, but his eyes didn’t waver. “She wasn’t messing with me,” he said, his tone more direct now, making it impossible for you to brush him off.

Your chest rose sharply, your breath caught in a mix of panic and anticipation. Cooper’s words hung in the air, so heavy yet so vulnerable. You slowly lowered yourself onto the couch next to him, trying to keep your movements calm even though your heart was racing wildly.

“She said… ‘there’s nothing worse than two fools in love,’” Cooper repeated, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile as he reached for your hands. His touch was warm, his hands larger and stronger than yours, yet so gentle that it felt like a grounding force. “And if I’m being honest, I’m in love with you. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Your breath hitched, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. Cooper’s thumb lightly grazed over your knuckles as he continued, his voice unwavering despite the tenderness of his confession. “But she’s your sister, and she knows you better than I ever could. So if this isn’t something you want…” His words trailed off, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You took a deep breath, the air filling your lungs but failing to calm the storm inside. “Cooper,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I’ve loved you ever since you first said my name. And every day since then. You make every day wonderful, and even on my worst days, just hearing from you makes it all feel better—like the world isn’t as heavy.”

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. His eyes were warm and kind, full of something deeper than you’d ever dared to imagine. The way he smiled at you—like you were his whole world—made your chest ache in the best way.

“God,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe, “you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

And then he moved. The space between you disappeared as his lips found yours, crashing into you with a passion that left no room for doubt. For a fleeting second, you hesitated, the weight of the moment overwhelming. But then your instincts took over, and you melted into him.

The kiss was electric, a perfect mix of exhilaration and familiarity. It felt like a first kiss—tingling, new, and impossibly thrilling—but also like the culmination of a thousand unspoken moments, as though you’d been doing this forever.

Cooper’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but protective. His large hands made you feel small, secure, and cherished all at once. Your hands found their way to his jaw and the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him deeper into the kiss. Time seemed to blur, the rest of the world falling away until there was only Cooper—his warmth, his touch, his love.

[emkayewrites]

Another behind-the-scenes-on-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment from my Lukola fanfic....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

Before she could respond, there was a frantic knocking at her door.

“Duty calls?” Ezra asked.

“Something like that.” Nicola replied. “I’ll speak to you later.” 

She hung up and pocketed her phone into her jeans, moving to open the door. 

She knew with some certainty that Luke would be the one stood outside.  If he had not come to visit her, she would likely be making the trip across the field to him.

In the last few weeks, they had become somewhat inseparable. If they were not due to film a scene together, they still found a way to see each other for a meal, a walk or just to decompress in one of their trailers.  This routine had started initially to manage their nerves about their scenes.  It was a relief to be able to talk every day just to practice and build trust.  As time had passed, they were both realizing they were getting a lot more from each other than just rehearsal time.  Nicola found herself looking forward to seeing him and being at the receiving end of his dry wit.  In her experience, there were few people in life that you could have such effortless banter with.  Meanwhile, Luke was open with her about being introverted and needing to sit in a semi-dark room with no human contact after a long day on set.  The running joke was that Nicola no longer counted as human, not after the many nights they had sat in his darkened trailer, eating dinner out of takeaway boxes in relative silence.  All in all, there was a comfortable rhythm to their relationship – so much so that even on a day off like today when most cast members were catching up with family and friends, Nicola had been hoping Luke would want to while away some of the hours together.  She had resisted reaching out to him though, feeling conscious he might be taking the opportunity to catch up with his parents or Jade.

Sure enough, it was Luke stood at her trailer door, dancing impatiently on the muddy grass as sheets of rain washed over the bright red umbrella he was holding up. 

“You can come in, that stays outside.”  Nicola pointed at the umbrella.

He immediately bolted inside, keeping the arm with the umbrella extended outside the tailer door.

“How do we bring it in?” He looked at her expectantly.  Nicola let out a snort of laughter in response.

“We don’t.”

“I’m not abandoning it out here, it won’t survive and it’s not mine to destroy.  I borrowed it from Kraft services.  Haven’t you got a tea towel or something?” He urged.

“Nothing big enough to absorb that.” Nicola shrugged, returning to her place on the couch.  “I’ve had enough lectures about these vinyl floors to know better.  Besides, the umbrella won’t get damaged.”

A crack of thunder erupted around them. 

“So is the rest of you planning on coming in or…” She asked, ignoring the sound of the escalating storm; pulling the blanket up over her shoulders again.

“Do you want a response to that, or can I just glare at you?” He shot her a look.

“Well, you can either stand there holding an electricity conductor and glare at me, or you could come in here where it’s safe.” Nicola quipped; one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, fuck. Good point.” He immediately dropped the umbrella with a clatter and pulled his arm inside, slamming the door behind him as he did.

Nicola did her best to hide her amusement.

“You’re the worst.” He said with the twinges of a smile around the corners of his mouth.

He unzipped his raincoat, revealing a thick script pressed against his stomach, protected from the rain. “Bought over today’s pages, thought it might be a good opportunity to go over the scenes.”

He pulled his coat off and took a seat beside her.  As he rifled through the script, she found herself absentmindedly sharing her blanket with him, pulling it across his back. 

“I keep thinking about when Penelope and the audience see him at the garden party, the cameras on him and he’s meant to just look handsome and interesting.”  Luke laughed disbelievingly, looking down at the page.  “Talk about a tall order.”

Nicola leaned over, looking at the notes with a frown.  “You’re overthinking it now.  A lot of that is going to be the hair, the make-up, the lighting, camera angles – it’s not all on you to convey that.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked unconvinced.  “It’s delivering the sexy smoulder in the close-up that I’m really overthinking.”

The show was famous for the way it framed its romantic heroes in a way that exuded romance, sexiness and intrigue usually all in one tight close-up shot of the face.  Nicola had to admit that the amount of face acting they had to do on Bridgerton was on par with stage plays and pantomime with the exception being that here, the shot was redone over, and over, and over.  It was no easy feat.

“I had a nightmare last night.  I’m doing the shot and Tricia keeps telling me my sexy face attempt looks constipated.  I keep messing it up and I give myself constipation from the stress.  They have to shut down production for the day and it’s on immortalized forever in the notes for the dailies: Luke Newton fit of constipation shuts down set and costs production ten million pounds.” 

“Ten million pounds? Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Nicola remarked with a smirk.  He gives in and laughs.

“But hey, your brains’ ability to do that – it’s a talent.  I wish I had dreams that vivid and hilarious.” She continued.

“It’s a curse.” He disagreed.

“Alright, look at me, look at me.” She insisted, tugging at the blanket to pull his shoulders closer to her.  He faced her and she realised just how close to each other they were.  They had become gradually desensitized to the level of intimacy required between them but every so often, in a moment off-set like this one, it still caught her off-guard.  They were practically nose-to-nose.  His eyes levelled with hers.

“Smoulder.” She invited.

A change came across his face.  The strain of stress around his eyes and mouth vanished, his features softened as he embodied Colin Bridgerton.  His eyes seem to bore into hers.

“Pen, it is good to see you.” His spoke with an affected tone.

“Is it?” Nicola responded with an English accent, looking down at her hands, playing the closed body language of Penelope Featherington.

“Truly. It has felt like I have been absent years instead of months.”

“Much has certainly changed in that time.” She was stoic.

“A good deal, I know.” Luke patted at his shirt with some boastful pride, a smile spreading across his lips. “But it was all the rage in Paris.”

Nicola could not help but to laugh.  “Sorry, I’m breaking character. He’s such an arse.”

“It’s alright, I was about to break anyway.” He sighed, rubbing a forefinger against his temple. “So, smoulder rating?”

“If 0 is vomit-inducing Hugh Heffner and 10 is Jason Mamoa as Aquaman, you’re a solid 9 as Season 3 Colin Bridgerton.”  She assured.

“Alright, well that’s… I would have believed you if you’d played it cool and given me a 4 but that’s – it’s outrageous.” He shook his head at her, smiling.

“Deal with it.  Hand on my granny Nelly’s bible, it’s a 9.”

“Don’t blaspheme, I’m not worth it.” He rolled his eyes at her, turning his concentration back to the script.

Just then, another roll of thunder cracked overhead.

Luke leaned back on the sofa, holding the script up in front of his face. “Alright, well you better order some food, I’m not leaving until either that outside stops or I feel sexy.”

“Oh, so I guess we’re dying here then.” Nicola stated matter-of-factly.

[bigwishes]

I always see the guys with the big muscles riding motorbikes.. wish I could meet one, put his helmet on and take his place. Becoming a biker..

You were watching a guy pull into the service station in the middle of the day, not for gas though, he parked in a regular parking spot with a large bike trailer attached to the back. The guy got off and went inside the service station. You awed at the bikes and helmets on the trailer, surely, one quick look wouldn't hurt.

You climbed up on the trailed and began to run your fingers over the bikes. You threw your leg over the top and sat on it, putting your hands on the bars pretending to steer.

You quickly look around to see if the owner is coming back but can see him through the windows way at the back of the station browsing the drinks. You open the helmet trunk and pull out a sleek black helmet. Taking another quick look around you see the coast is clear and you put the helmet on smiling.

*CLICK* suddenly you hear something in the helmet click and it feels like it tightened around your neck and jar. You try to pull it off but it was stuck on your head, you feel your body start to swell. You pants getting thicker in your pants, filling them out with muscle. You arms inflating tearing the sleeves to shreds, but you were too focused on trying to get the helmet off, suddenly the visor flipped down covering your eyes and your world view became dark and tinted. Green digital words flash on the inside of the visor in front of your eyes.

Host Transformation Accepted and Complete Preparing Drone Adaptation

You continued to try and use the new strength in your arms to pull the helmet off as you hear a buzzing begin to get louder and louder until finally **ZAP** you feel a powerful jolt of electricity blast into your head, your arms fell limp to your side and your slouched forward. Words appeared on the inside of the visor once again..

Host Transformation Complete Mental Deletion Complete Drone Creation Complete

You sat there almost lifeless on the bike when you heard a voice from behind you.

"well fuck me bro, here I was trying to trap some guy from grinder to put on the helmet and you just went and did it for me"

You continued to sit there, unable to move, you didn't even feel the want or need to move.

"well, guess I finally got my drone, you'll make me a tonne of money dude"

The question on how you were gonna make him money didn't cross your mind, you didn't even remember what money was.

"alright, aaaand, sold, a bloke just sent me a request, advertised and taken within minutes. You'll get your instructions drone"

Words appeared on the inside of the visor in front of your eyes

Address: ## ### ### Instructions: Weekend Rental - Obey Temporary Master Body Modification Request: Weekend Dick Shrinkage As Temporary Master's Request

You mindlessly walked the bike backwards down the trailer ramp, turned it to the street and effortlessly started the bike and rode off to the programmed location to follow out your instructions.

[mirl0-turdusmerula]

Been thinking a lot about where Kim would live pre-canon.

A tiny matchbox appartment in the Industrial Harbour.

So yeah, I wrote a ficlet. Slice of life / long ass description of a normal evening and Kim arriving home, making dinner, revising notes and doing Volta do Mar.

1200 words. Full text below the cut.

Midsummer night

The heavenly sound falls out as the motor carriage's engine comes to a stop. Inside the Precinct 57 garage, the Coupris Kineema stands out among the four other non-sports model MCs. Although different models, they all share the same blue paint and bear the corp's halogen white stripe across their side. The five of them also sleep there (guarded), to the Lieutenant's dislike. But he understands. Neither he nor his station can afford to be the object of street junior delinquency.

The Lieutenant steps out—end of the day.

He mutters a goodbye to the security guard and closes the Station's service door behind him. If it weren't for the white rectangular sign bearing the RCM initials and new motto ("Justice, Union, Prudence and Force"), this repurposed industrial warehouse could be mistaken for any of the similar buildings that surround it. The streets are wide and level, but the asphalt leaves almost no room for the sidewalk. He marches home late August evening, dodging vans, containers, and badly parked MCs trailers.

He makes a stop at a little green kiosk in the corner of an intersection, –"Evening, officer"– and buys the usual newspaper, and today too, a pack of 'Astras' (it is Friday). Back straight, steady voice, firm hands.

He finally arrives at his destined warehouse. Once housing an R&D department of the Feld-Electric company, its old-style brick atéliers have been repurposed into apartments.

Black mailboxes sit at the side of the main barred door. One of them, in the third row says: "Kim Kitsuragi". The Officer produces a key from a pocket in his aerostatic jacket's interior lining and unlocks the door. A long and narrow hallway extends before him, with storage rooms opening on either side. At the end of it, there is a not-too-dirty communal bathroom and a spiral metal staircase that leads to the upper floor. The Officer takes a quick detour to the communal bathroom, and his boots make a thump, thump noise as he comes up the stairs. He produces another key. This one is smaller and more intricate and unlocks a reinforced wooden door.

With a soft click he eases himself inside. The matchbook-sized room is orderly, bright, and well-kept. In just 6 by 2'5 meters, Kitsuragi's private life unfolds. Being a repurposed industrial atélier, the construction is sturdy: brick walls, exposed cables and plumbing, and hydraulic tiles floor, in the old-fashioned dideridada style. Opposite to the door, a grand paneled industrial window covers the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, where it bends and becomes a skylight.

Kitsuragi closes the door behind him and locks it. Two turns. Key left in the keyhole. Still on the doormat he takes off his uniform. Black heavy police boots, off. Orange aerostatic pilot jacket, off. Utility belt off. Under-arm holster and pistol off. Everything is neatly left on a shelf and some hooks beside the door.

Kitsuragi's bare feet make straight for the workbench on the left wall. On the shelf above it, is a Wowshi 12-Prefect two-way radio system for station calls. Long-cable headphones are firmly attached to the 4.5 mm port. The sound system is never used without the headphones, and the headphones never leave the room. He dones them, and the long chord follows him around the room. Kitsuragi presses the saved station button, and after a moment of static, he begins to hum half-consciously to the familiar sounds. The room is filled with ecstatic vibrations, totally translucent to the rest of the world.

He starts cooking dinner.

There is not a kitchen per se, but the original atélier's stainless steel sink and worktop, paired with a portable gas stove serves the purpose well. It also serves as a wash basin, in tandem with the mirror cabinet mounted to the wall next to it.

Rattling pots, a flame, boiling water. His foot taps along the beating pulses.

Kitsuragi leads a steaming plate of Samaran fast noodles to his wooden workbench (and only table) and sits in a rolling steel chair that probably came with the tenement. He sits crouched, one leg hugged and the other one hanging, headphones still on his head, although he has stopped the music. He is revising notes from his blue A6 Mnemonic, jotting down more nearly illegible lines, careful not to drop the spicy sauce on it. Filled (and yet to be filled) similar notebooks rest in boxes beside the table.

Above the workbench, a corkboard and some shelves. Pinned in the center, between other notes, is a map of Revachol West. Boroughs, streets, and motorways cut across the web of canals. It's up for display rather than reference. The 8/81 traverses Kim from the base of his column to the top of his skull.

On the shelves, Kim's quaint collection of hobbies: some Wirrâl dice, tiny franconigerian figurines, Jamrock Slam tabloids, some second-hand mechanical manuals, Jacob Irw's Tiptop Tournée racecar miniature, some sci-fci novellas… Most of these bric-à-bas are from the last few years when his higher lieutenant's salary allowed him some stability. With the raise also came a tiny black box that now sits in the corner, bearing a white halogen rectangle. Inside, a mémoire.

He lights an 'Astra Menthol', and absent-mindedly taps the ash onto a tray in between inhalings. The noodles grow cold as Kitsuragi writes and rewrites in his notebook. No crosswords for tonight. He doesn't mind, and his gaze certainly does not fall on the tiny black box.

Sometime later, when the Astra is consumed, the chair rolls back, and Kitsuragi stands and reignites the music. The multi-purpose pre-installed sink becomes the star of the room again. Dishes and then teeth. He does not have a personal shower (he uses the communal one in the morning), but fenilely takes advantage of his private faucet to wash off the usual dirt, sweat, and grime. Blood sometimes.

One last stretch and Kitsuragi sits legs-crossed on the steel-framed bed below the window. He takes off his glasses and headphones. No verres, no smokes, no music, no gloves. He settles down for Volta do Mar.

Y del trueno,

al son violento,

y del viento

al rebramar,

yo me duermo

sosegado

arrullado

por la mar.

(And from thunder, to the violent tone, and from the wind to the roar. I sleep, soothed, lulled, by the sea. )

It is an old boiadero song. Written by a man in the Plains who never saw the sea, now popular among entroponauts who long for the day they see the open sky again.

Outside the window, the summer sun is setting down in the Great Industrial Harbour, and the low rumble of cranes and lorries is slowly fading out. A shimmer in between two eternite rooftops: the sea. The sound of cargoships horns arriving at the port and the screeching of seagulls. Smoke rising from the chimneys fades into lazy clouds. High above, the sound of rotors and the beams of floodlights. Although Kim is not able to see the Coalition airships, he is acutely aware of their presence.

An empty pot on the windowsill. No flowers grow here anymore.

Kim's breathing steadies, his chest rising and falling as the sunlight recedes and the stars appear. Invisible, obscured by the helium streetlights. Next to him, a nightstand and two objects on top: a pair of hyperopia diamond-shaped glasses, and a single-shot Kiejl A9 Armistice. Loaded.

[badcaseofcasey]

Steddie Soulmate/Met as Kids AU - Part 3 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: you guys are all too sweet - I'm so glad you're enjoying this little idea of mine, that has now grown into a 5k+ fic - so there's more to come!

Steve started high school with a chip on his shoulder; he’d done well enough in middle school sports that he’d be a shoe-in for JV, if not Varsity. He, Tommy H, and Carol had risen to the top of the pile, and even though they were back to being the new folks on campus, he was fully assuming that high school would be just as easy for him as middle school, at least as far as social standing went.

But as he got used to the new environment, he couldn’t help but notice the feeling of electricity that shot through his veins every so often. At first, he thought he could chalk it up to the sensation of being in a new place surrounded by new people, the hustle and bustle of it all, the independence of finally being a high schooler. It took until lunchtime during their third week of school to realize what the buzzing under his skin really meant.

Steve, Tommy, and Carol had just sat down to eat when Steve’s attention was drawn to a commotion on the other side of the cafeteria.

One of the other students (a sophomore, he thought?) had stood up on one of the tables and was speaking loudly to anyone who would listen. Steve was too far away to make out any of what he was saying, but he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the buzzing sensation felt like it had been turned up to its highest setting.

“Get a load of Munson,” Tommy scoffed. “What a freak.”

“Munson?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, Eddie Munson,” Tommy explained. “He just moved here to live with his uncle - apparently his dad got thrown in jail and his mom didn’t want him, so he’s with his uncle in the trailer park. My mom heard about it from one of the secretaries at City Hall. Social Services brought him into town.”

“My sister says he’s so weird,” Carol added on. Her sister was a year older than them and Carol had taken to repeating whatever her sister had told her so they could start out high school quote-unquote the right way. “He wasn’t here last year, but he’s already been in detention like, six times for talking back to teachers. She says he’s the definition of trailer trash.”

Steve frowned. He tried to catch a glimpse of Munson’s face to see if he recognized him. Something about the way he captivated a crowd felt familiar. The buzzing sensation under his skin picked up again as Munson’s face turned their way. Steve snapped his eyes back down to the table.

“Whatever,” Tommy said. “He’s not worth our time, anyway.”

“Except for… you know,” Carol whispered, very poorly miming smoking a joint. “Apparently he sells drugs.”

Steve let their conversation wash over him as he pushed the food around on his tray. He had been waiting for the day when he might get to see his soulmate again, desperate to see how he’d grown up, if he still felt magnetic the way he had at the park. Now, it seemed, here he was. But could it really be him?

Part of Steve - the part he hated sometimes - was hoping it wasn’t the same person. The way Tommy and Carol talked about Eddie Munson made it clear that there was no way they’d ever want to hang out with him, even if they did find out that he was Steve’s soulmate.

“Steve?” Carol said. “Are you hearing us?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Munson’s a freak. Not worth our time.”

From then on, Steve was determined to see Eddie as little as possible. He convinced himself that maintaining the status quo and staying on the top of the pecking order was more important than anything else - soulmate or no soulmate.

Sure, he would still see Eddie around. He had a habit of showing up at parties he wasn’t invited to, there on business, as Tommy would jokingly say. Every time, Steve would feel that same rush of energy flowing along his side, where he knew the words hey, you want to fight a dragon with me? were scrawled. But every time, Steve held himself back, resisting the pull of Eddie’s magnet.

Even when Eddie flunked his first try at senior year and they ended up in some of the same classes, Steve did his best to stay away from him. Every so often, Tommy would try to get under Eddie’s skin, making snide comments as they passed in the hall, but Steve made sure they never lingered, reminding Tommy of his words in the cafeteria that day - “he’s not worth our time.”

By the time Nancy Wheeler came into his life, Steve fully believed that he could make a relationship work with someone other than his soulmate. Nancy had her words, too, though she also claimed not to know who they were from. For a while, dating Nancy was easy. It made sense: the handsome jock and the girl next door. If they just tried hard enough, Steve was sure they could have a good life together. People got married who weren’t soulmates all the time. And besides, Nancy made him a better person, and wasn’t that what everyone said your soulmate was supposed to do, anyway?

But then came Halloween, the word bullshit spat out in between sips of punch, and the revelation that Nancy’s words had come from Jonathan Byers, of all people. And Steve was back to being alone.

Or well, not really; because along with Nancy had come a gaggle of kids and the knowledge of things that he thought only existed in horror movies. And even after he and Nancy broke up and all the fighting was over - for now - he still had the distinction of being the best goddamn babysitter in Hawkins, Indiana.

So he had Dustin, and the other kids, and eventually Robin, and he was happy. Content. Eddie was still there, but almost in the same way he had been there before Steve had seen him again in the cafeteria. For now, Eddie was back in his memories. Steve was fine if he never saw his soulmate again - really, he was fine.

He could date, and hookup, and when he needed that feeling of something he would have forever that he could depend on, he could remind himself that he had the kids, and Robin, and Joyce and Hopper, and even Nancy and Jonathan, after a while. It was better this way, to keep that one perfect afternoon with Sir Eddie safe in his head, where no one could touch it.

Steve should have known that befriending a bunch of teenage D&D nerds would eventually come around to bite him in the ass.

Part 4

taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @infinitetrashbag @vampireinthesun @swimmingbirdrunningrock @maya-custodios-dionach @thev01dd @obsessivlyme @a-little-unsteddie @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @spectrum-spectre @red-panderz69 @magpiemuseum @minjintea @finalmoondragon @thatonebadideapanda @estrellami-1 @freyaforestafay @biatcgh @sadcanadianwinter @im-sam-fucking-winchester @bidisastersworld @justanothergirlwithobsessions @anaibis @thing-a-ling

[skinks]

JOE. first of all: a reminder that i love you and think you are simply one of the coolest people i know. i hope you're doing well. SECOND: can you talk to me some more about Becoming a Tradeswoman? i have a SERIOUS lack of confidence in my intelligence/brainworthiness/ability, and have always done white(ish) collar work, but. idk. the idea of working at something more practical (idek what it would be) has always kind of hung around the edges of my brain. no idea where i'd start, how i'd even find out whether i'm GOOD at practical work, whether i could hack it...how did you get started?? i remember your farming days, of course - did you just do it as a summer thing to start? how'd you get into it? anyway. whatever you'd like to talk about would be wonderful. you're amazing. OKAY BYE<3

SARAH HELLO!! First of all may I say ilu too and I think you’re rad, I hope you’re doing well also. I’m just working/exercising/watching movies mostly and have begun the process of buying my first flat, so I’m pretty tired but busy and happier for it.

Sorry it took me a minute to reply to this message, I’ve been thinking it over all week as it’s a wide-ranging topic. People’s routes into any type of work will be as varied as the people themselves, but I can share a little of my own experience for sure.

I live in a rural-ish area with a ton of agriculture, so I got into practical work at 16 when my first ever job was helping out on a farm nearby. My parents went to school with the guy who owned the farm, so soon I was earning money for bottle-feeding calves and mucking stalls. Then I moved to a different farm where I got to help with calving and a bunch of other work, including when I first got to operate forklifts and other heavy machinery.

My friends were all either waitressing or babysitting in town , and I was earning nearly double what they were and having a blast doing it without any of the horror stories of customer service. Most of the time I was on my own, left with the meagre responsibility of a lot of heavy lifting, but it made me feel accomplished. I realised I got such a rush from picking up how to operate a piece of machinery and making myself useful, being trusted to complete a task with a definitive outcome I could SEE. So much schoolwork seemed abstract and arbitrary outside of maths/science - even though I loved reading and was great at writing English papers, it frustrated me that success was graded on subjectivity. Maths is definite. Moving haybales from one barn to another until you’re done is definite. I responded to the constant sense of achievement you get from completing practical tasks and seeing your work make a direct impact on the job. It made me feel more powerful and confident, which was a lifesaver as a miserable teenager getting the self-esteem bullied out of me every day.

From there I quit university (once again couldn’t stand the arbitrary un-structured mess that was research and essays) and went back home to work on another farm. Learned how to drive ATVs, hitch horses into carriages, hitch trailers onto cars, cultivate a garden, build fences, wrangle and lamb sheep, etc etc. In my spare time I chased that high of learning a new practical skill through sports; tried archery, skeet shooting, weightlifting, crossfit, etc. I think having a propensity for sport since childhood does help your confidence in practical work, because you’ve already developed your sense of physicality and proprioception. You’re better coordinated, in a nutshell, but it’s not a dealbreaker for someone who’s not sporty.

Basically, every tiny skill I picked up in all my jobs has just built my confidence in my ability to learn a new one, it’s as simple as that. I could drive a car and muck out a stall, so with good teachers I was able to drive a forklift and lay turf, so I was able to then hitch a tractor trailer, so I could then build and fix an electric fence, so I could prune fruit trees, trim hedges, milk cows, dig ditches, build drystone walls, and rig up a mobile generator in the back of a pick-up so I could sand down logs all day.

Your confidence in your ability to learn is the only thing that matters, but you have to give yourself the chance to START learning. Knowing I had learned how to do all those things meant I had enough confidence to apply to an engineering training course at the local trade college. I yearned to learn more skills, to have the access to equipment and training I hadn’t before, honestly, because of that feeling of power. It makes me feel powerful to learn how to weld, how to use all the machines we have at work in order to be a functioning, useful part of a team.

For a long ass time though I felt the way you’ve described; totally lacking in the confidence to do this type of work. I get that, I really do, and I’m gonna tell you I SERIOUSLY doubt you lack the intelligence or ability to do trade work. I know that sounds like platitudes when you haven’t had the chance to even try it yet, but I’m telling you as someone who’s been there and has gotten over that self-doubt hill. You do not lack the ability, you only need the opportunity to try this work and good teachers to help you. If someone belittles you for asking questions when trying to learn something new, they’re a shitlord bastard who doesn’t deserve to be teaching you, and aren’t worth your time.

Can you think of any skill you’ve picked up and now don’t have to think about to complete? Can you drive, or bake, or follow a craft tutorial? Play a videogame? These types of activities require the type of hand-eye coordination, attention to detail, and subconscious adjustment of technique that are the basic building blocks of practical work imo. A forklift control panel or a metalworking lathe look intimidating, until you’ve been shown what to do and are carefully allowed to try it out for yourself a few times to build your confidence.

After that it’s just practice. I find it far, far easier to weld pipes than to… brainstorm initiatives, or whatever it is people do in offices. That’s a question you need to ask yourself with respect to all of this too, like I said before, what type of work brings you the most satisfaction? Do you like the idea of the precision inherently necessary to tool work, or does the black and white nature of it stress you out? Do you like the idea of focusing solely on a task that is literally at your fingertips, that YOUR skill has a direct effect on? If nothing else, the very fact that you wanna try is a great sign!

In terms of where to get experience, I’d say volunteering is your best bet initially.

- national parks or environmental nonprofits. Look for practical volunteering opportunities! my rangering organisation always has path building/invasive species removal/habitat maintenance sessions available to the public, maybe there’s something similar nearby to you that you could try. It’s so fun and rewarding!

- local farms or animal shelters. Ask around, see if anyone is looking for an extra pair of hands. I travelled in NZ Aotearoa using WWOOF, and there are wwoofing farms literally all over the world. the majority of them are geared towards people just looking to help out, you really don’t need to have any practical experience to go wwoofing

- local trade cooperatives. This is a long shot but it is something I’ve seen crop up in bigger cities here. people will set up community workshops where you can go along and make use of the tools and equipment in a more amateur and inclusive environment, and they’ll often run classes. maybe there’s something similar near to you, and it’s a way to try different things to see if something clicks!

- practical toys. Like, model building kits or even construction toys. It’s a small start, but maybe a good one for you to see how you feel about following plans and building something!

- classes, again. I know you said you’re not sure what you’d even wanna try, but if you have the time and the money, could it be worthwhile taking a class or two, just to try something? leather or wood working? blacksmithing? do you like the thought of being inside or outside? Making things or fixing things? heavy lifting or small precision work? All of it?!

I’m not the best at giving advice, but I do believe in the human ability to learn tool usage with proper instruction. Our ancestors could build their own homes and start fires to make clay pots, and they didn’t even have youtube to tell them how to do it. All it really comes down to then is confidence, and you DESERVE confidence.

Why the fuck shouldn’t you learn how to work a trade, or at least try something practical! That’s what life is about, learning new things. Especially since you’ll meet all sorts of cool new people doing it. You’re a kind and intelligent person, and so long as you’re fine with making a mistake or two, owning up to it, and asking for help when you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll be fine and dandy. I swear it!!!!

[blogparanormalexpresso2stuff]

As an unprecedented humanitarian crisis was happening in real time yesterday morning in Western North Carolina, we turned on the Sunday News programs: CNN’s State of the Union with Jake Tapper and, later in the morning, Face the Nation on CBS. We were stunned that the focus of both programs was the war in the Middle East and the presidential election.

As both national news programs were airing, local news reports were coming out of Buncombe County, North Carolina that people there had no electric power, no running water, no cell phone service, impassible roads, and no distribution centers had been established for bottled water or food because the tractor trailers with the supplies had not arrived — two days after the hurricane hit. At the 10 a.m. press briefing by Buncombe County officials, 10 people were reported dead from Hurricane Helene with 1,000 reported missing.

[agueforts]

information compilation for me but you can have it too. will be updating w/ new information for as long as my attention holds (EPISODE 1 UPDATE INCOMING. AS SOON AS I FINISH IT. will probably reformat some)

SYSTEM

kids on bikes

marbles: adversity token. gain upon failed roles, to potentially turn a future role into a success. loosing marbles?

STATS

SNOOP:

PLAYER CHARACTERS

hunch curio, he/him: no. 421, deep verdant green, pale blue-white accents. detective, perpetually in state of injury, hungover, repeatedly broken nose. fog in portrait. name card dull orange w/ yellow lean

imelda pulse, she/her: no. ??, rosy pinks (rich velvety, light accents). femme fatale, mysterious, velvet coat, old money, reckless & impulsive. seeking curio's services. bubbly expression in portrait, and on clothing; effervescent. name card dull orange w/ yellow lean (same as curio). name: impulse

anastasia tension, she/her: no. 001 (her files?), navy blue, cyan-blue accents. reporter at daily observer, seeking notoriety, rough lightning-like shapes (could they be something else?). name card purple w/ magenta lean. name: attention

daniel fucks, he/him: no. 80085-69 (self-chosen?), purple w/ magenta lean, tan accents. owns club sugah's, hedonistic. gooey. name card red w/ orange lean

conrad schintz, he/him: no. 794, brown, sea-green accents. newsie, seen troubles, very small. shining surface; glass or water? name card verdant green. best friends with justin. name: conscience

the fix, he/him: no. 404 (error?), red w/ orange lean. hitman, big, custom guns, forceful (as i am well aware). rock or otherwise earth. connected to hyperfixation. name: referencing both fixation & fix (dopamine boost)? name card deep blue

LOCATIONS & ENTITIES

elias hodge: host brain. name significance? to look itnto

cerabell's pacific: company that runs something of importance

synaptic switchboard: at heart of cerabell's pacific

limbic??: crimson red. mask

cerebellum: rusted brown. industrial

brain stem: rail transport

justin: conrad's best friend

COLORS: to add. see here in the meantime

WORDPLAY (maybe not necessary section? will be a lot if maintained)

mentopolis: metropolis + mental

cerabell's pacific: cerebral + bell's pacific (phone company)

synaptic switchboard: control of conduct of electrical signals, organic/inorganic

more. will come back to.

DIAL MOVEMENTS IN TRAILER (significance to be determined; green 240-60, yellow 60-120, red 120-240)

100 to 160, yellow to red

90 to 180, yellow to red

100 to 90, remains yellow

BACKGROUNDS:

synaptic switchboard: grey (matter?) halls & inlaid indigo-purple synapses

curio's office: green diagonally tiled background (square); lines radiating from upper corner

dan's club: red w/ orange lean,r ound shape motif

grey brick w/ cyan-blue rectangles

copper & gunmetal pipes

dark grey cityscape, copper accents (antenna-- dendrite?). dome?

solid black, unilluminated

NOTES

metropolis (1927)

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider

2008 Ferrari F430 Spider with only 9,000 miles on it. The car features a beautiful Nero exterior paint, a Nero leather interior, and a Nero soft top.

This F430 comes equipped with carbon-ceramic brakes, Daytona-style electric seats, carbon fiber rear molding, Scuderia shields, and ball-polished wheels, to name a few of the options. The car is equipped with a Clarion flip-up navigation, and the factory stereo comes with the car.

We have just completed the comprehensive annual service, which included oil, brake fluid, and coolant replacement, installation of a new accessory belt and pollen filter, and fitting of four new tires. This thorough service was performed by Scuderia Performante, a highly-regarded service center for Ferrari and Maserati.

This F430 is now live on Bring a Trailer Link below. @bringatrailer

https://bringatrailer.com/.../2008-ferrari-f430-spider-36/