#checking brake fluid

[cars-savinginvestment]

Is Brake Fluid Change a Necessary?

Changing the brake fluid is a vital maintenance task to ensure the safety and efficiency of your car. Below are a few reasons why to need to change your brake fluid:

Moisture Absorption: Brake fluid is hygroscopic, absorbing moisture from the air, leading to potential issues.

Boiling Point Reduction: Moisture lowers brake fluid's boiling point, causing vapor bubbles that result in a spongy pedal and reduced braking efficiency.

Corrosion Prevention: Moisture in the brake fluid can cause corrosion in crucial components like master cylinders, callipers, and brake lines, risking braking failure.

Improved Performance: Regular brake fluid changes maintain optimal brake performance, ensuring efficient communication of hydraulic pressure for effective braking.

Safety: Brake fluid changes are crucial for vehicle safety, as brakes in good condition are essential for secure and efficient operation on the road.

Checkout the link and learn more on how to check the brake fluid, or how to change it

[atomskdluffy]

Spent a lot more money today than I was expecting to, but as having reliable transportation is a necessity I'm not really sweating it. I'm also very happy I'm in a financial situation where a surprise $1850 bill is something I don't have to worry about.

[circuitlink]

Professional-Grade Brake Fluid Tester for Ultimate Vehicle Safety

A professional-grade brake fluid tester is an essential tool for maintaining the safety and reliability of your vehicle. Brake fluid plays a crucial role in ensuring that your brakes function properly by transferring force from the brake pedal to the brake components. Over time, brake fluid can absorb moisture, which lowers its boiling point and reduces braking efficiency. A professional-grade tester allows mechanics and car owners alike to quickly assess the condition of their brake fluid, detecting any moisture contamination or degradation that could compromise brake performance. By regularly testing brake fluid, you can prevent potential failures, ensure optimal stopping power, and avoid costly repairs.

Using a high-quality brake fluid tester is a proactive way to maintain your vehicle’s safety. Designed for accuracy and ease of use, these testers provide immediate results, enabling users to make informed decisions about brake maintenance. Many professional-grade testers feature advanced sensors that deliver precise readings, offering peace of mind whether you're performing routine maintenance or preparing for a long trip. With the ability to test various types of brake fluid, including DOT3, DOT4, and DOT5.1, these tools are versatile enough to meet the needs of any vehicle. Investing in a professional-grade brake fluid tester is a smart move for anyone serious about vehicle safety and performance.

[renaultmechanic]

Top maintenance tips for your Renault Trafic

Keeping your Renault Trafic in top condition ensures its longevity and optimal performance. Regular maintenance helps avoid costly repairs and assures your vehicle runs smoothly and efficiently. At Renault Mechanics in Melbourne, we specialise in providing expert Renault Trafic service and repair and service for Renault Master and other Renault cars. Here are our top maintenance tips to keep your…

[p3autokrafte]

BMW is one of the most sought-after luxury cars in the world due to its powerful performance. However, like other high-end cars, the mechanical parts in BMW are also susceptible to various issues. The failure of the ABS system in your BMW due to various factors will lead to the illumination of the ABS warning light on the dashboard of your car. This is a very serious issue as it directly affects the safety of the occupants of the car. Have a look at the infographics to know the factors that cause the ABS warning light to illuminate on the dashboard.

[europeanmotorcars]

Failure of your Volvo XC90 braking system can put your safety in jeopardy. So, it needs routine maintenance to work efficiently. Regular brake fluid flush is one of the best ways to keep your car’s braking system in working order. So, take your Volvo XC90 to the nearest car service center so that the technician can figure out if your car needs a brake fluid flush.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/815503445048490792

[blogdays]

Helpbrake - Pro+

Take 5 oil change is a popular service provider known for efficient and fast oil change services. They offer a range of services to ensure that your vehicle's oil is changed quickly and effectively. Some of the services offered by Take 5 oil change include oil filter change, fluid topping up, tire pressure check and visual inspection of key components. Their technicians are highly trained and experienced, ensuring your vehicle gets the care it needs. Each of these topics is on our website.When it comes to price range, Take 5 offers competitive prices for oil change services. Compared to other providers like Jiffy Lube and Valvoline, the Take 5 oil change offers affordable options. For example, Jiffy lube oil change price range from $44.99 to $84.99, while Valvoline's prices range from $49.99 to $89.99. Because the price of the Take 5 oil change is in the lower range, it is a cost-effective choice for customers looking for quality jiffy lube oil change coupon services at a reasonable price.Jiffy Lube is another well-known service provider that offers oil change services. They provide the Jiffy Lube Signature Service® Oil Change, which includes a comprehensive oil change, brake fluid flush cost top up service and visual inspection of vital components. Jiffy Lube also offers a variety of coupons and discounts on oil change services, allowing customers to save money. For example, there are coupon codes for $15 off a conventional oil change and $25 off a synthetic-blend oil change. These discounts make the Jiffy Lube a popular choice for those looking for affordable oil change options.

[nymphomatique]

i’m up giggling and twirling my hair on this fine evening thinking about sleazy mechanic miguel o’hara and being completely normal about it ❤️

just imagine, ur bent over the hood of your car, nearly drooling all over it’s chipped paint miguel said he’d fix because he’s just fucking you so good and so deep, your mind is going numb.

a half hour before this you walked into his auto shop in the skimpiest outfit and the strappiest little heels he’s ever seen and he just knew you were going to be a handful.

“you haven’t changed the oil in two years?” he asks, he laughs at your meek nod because you know it’s bad based on how wide his eyes got as you told him allll the little details about your car.

“well darling, this just won’t do. i can’t let you ride around in this car until it’s all fixed and proper,” he tells you as you go over the long and expensive bill full of parts and things you don’t recognize nor understand.

“i can’t pay all this at once.. can we do instalments? or-or maybe we can do one thing off the list a month? because i can’t afford to-” he cuts you off right then and there because he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

do you really need all the things on that list fixed? no. at most you need your oil and tires changed and your brake fluid checked. but miguel deserves a little fun, doesn’t he?

“im sure we can figure out something that works for the both of us, sweet thing,” he says, giving you the once over. it’s only now that his rippling muscle and massive height make you feel somewhat intimidated as you feel as if you’re understanding the innuendo that slips past his oh so kissable lips.

and kiss those lips, you do. your eyes roll behind your skull and you let out a muffled groan into miguel’s thick and muscular grease-stained bicep, his other hand wrapped in your hair and tugging your head up to face him, initiating a heated and intense kiss. you can’t help but moan and tighten around him because oh my god it just feels so fucking good.

“m-miguel, ‘m gonna- oh my god, please make me cum, please please please please please,” you’re rambling after that intoxicating kiss.

“that’s it, cum for me sweetheart. gonna make that sweet fuckin’ pussy cum,” he spits at you with a new found vigour in his thrusts.

if it means having you like this forever, that car of yours is gonna need a lot more servicing from him down the road.

—

this is my first ever published work on here pls give me feedback 🥲 asks are also welcome if u want me to write about anything on miguel!!

thanx for reading 💋

[ivy-plays]

We'll be alright Ch.4

Summery:Summary: you've been married to Owen Grady as well as training a pack of velocsrapters at the New Jurassic World for two years now. So what happens when the two of you are asked to check on the paddock for a new dinosaur only for things to go sideways and send the entire park into chaos?

Warnings: blood, death, cussing, mentions of alcohol

Raiting:pg13

Paring: Owen Grady x wife!reader

Previous: Ch.3

An: heyyyyyyyyy. Guess who finally was able to write the next chapter after two months.🙃 . I'm sorry for such a long wait but my life has been really hectic lately with my job and senior year and just life in general ( I hate saying that because it's the #1 writer's excuse, but it's true lol) . Anyway! I hope you all like this chapter and I hope it was worth the long ass wait.

"Owen. " I whisper out, my voice shaking as I grab onto my husbands sleeve.

"It's in the cage! It's in the cage with you!"

"Abby what is it?" He asks as he turns around and as he does his eyes lock onto what I'm seeing.

A large white dinosaur,much larger than the t-Rex, emerges from the trees; its head hung low. Looking right at us " Run!" Owen calls out as he takes me by the hand as we begin running as fast as we can for the gate. The muscles in my legs are burning and my heart is beating rapidly with adrenaline and fear. When we got to the gait Owen hurriedly shoved me through first before following right behind me. I keep running until I'm a good 20 feet from the paddock and I watch in horror as the extremely pissed off idomanous rex begins to break and pry its way through the gap left in the gate. "Oh God" I murmur under my breath as I stand frozen where I stand.

"come on, we gotta go!" Owens voice makes me come back to my senses as the two of us began to run again but we didn't get far when the gates gave way. I drop to the ground, the sharp gravel digging into my knees and hands as I crawl under a van and Owen is quick to follow. I watch as he rolls onto his back before pulling me on top of him.

"close your mouth and eyes" he whispers as he pushes my head into the crook of his neck before I hear his pocket knife flick open. The smell of brake fluid fills my nose as Owen covers us in it , the thick liquid soaking and staining our clothes. My breath hitches and I tighten my grip on the man beneath me as loud and terrified screams fill my ears before abruptly being cut off. I'm holding my breath, and my body is completely frozen in fear when I suddenly feel a large wave of warm air blow over us. Something that should not be happening under a van. I have to stifle the whimper that falls from my lips. Owen, now taking his turn to tighten his grip on me, strong arms wrapping me in a cacoon of safety. We both hold our breath as the dinosaur nudged the van with its nose before letting out a huff of disinterest and stomping off somewhere, most likely looking for her next kill. I let out a choked and shaky breath as I felt Owen relax slightly beneath me.

"What the fuck just happened?" I eventually whisper out as I pull back to look my husband in the eyes. In his usual tranquil green eyes swam anger and something I haven't seen in a long time. Fear.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Once we gathered our bearings the two of us eventually made it back to the main building of the park. I watched as Owen barged through the doors of the central control room, me hot on his heels as we shoved past a security guard who tried to keep us out .

"What the hell happened out there?"

"sir" the security guard barked as he tried to grab Owen by the arm but he just yanked his arm away.

" There are thermal cameras all over that Paddock! She did NOT just disappear." I argue as Claire walks up to us , the rest of the control room watching the exchange.

"It must have been some technical malfunction." Claire tried to argue, but her voice sounded just as unsure as her words.

" Were you not paying attention?" Owen speaks up once more, his anger evident," she marked up that wall as a distraction. She wanted us to think she escaped."

I folded my arms across my chest, nails digging into the skin of my palms as I tried to not let my irritation get the best of me. Arguing and standing around isn't going to solve anything.

"Hold on . We're talking about an animal here " Claire huffs out, clearly annoyed about Owens and I's presence here.

" A highly intelligent animal" I retort, my pointed look meeting her own.

"400 meters to the beacon" I catch someone saying before my eyes snap up to the giant screen in the room, and I can't believe what I'm seeing.

"You're going after her with non lethals?" I grit out , my patience and composure running very thin with those who are in charge of this damn park.

Claire , who is now also watching the screen with her back towards us, continues to argue with us." We have $26 million invested in that asset. We can't just kill it" she says , her voice laced with a very matter of fact tone.

"Those men are gonna die-"

"300 meeters to the beacon"

"You need to call this mission off right now." I can hear Owen bark out from beside me as my eyes continue to watch the group of men trudge through the jungle with nothing but tranquilizers and tasers.

"They're right on top of it"

" Call it off right now "

"You are not in control here!"

The argument between Claire and my husband stops as the captain of asset containment picks up a chunk of skin and muscle from the jungle floor.

"What is that?" I ask as I try to examine the blinking object embedded in the mass before I turn to look at the man beside me.

" That's her tracking implant. She clawed it out" Owen says in near disbelief and Claire turns to look at us again.

" How would it know to do that?" She mutters as she turns to look back at the screen and so do I.

"She remembered where they put it in" I finally answered.

"It can camouflage!" The captain screams out as everything erupts into chaos as the Indominus rex seemingly appears out of thin air , quickly attacking the squad of men.

"Evacuate the park"

"We'd never reopen"

I feel my anger bubbling over as Claire continues to care more about money and image than the lives of others. " You made a genetic hybrid, raised it in captivity," I say, my voice low," She is seeing all of this for the first time ."

"She doesn't even know what she is." Owen continues, building on top of my words," she will kill anything that moves."

" Do you think the animal is contemplating its own existence?" Mr. Masarani ask is disbelief as he finally turns and acknowledges Owen and I.

I watch as yet another agents heart monitor flat lines on the screen. There are only two people left.

" She is learning where she fits in on the food chain and I'm not sure you want her to figure that out " I explained, my eyes meeting Masarani's ." Now, asset containment can use live ammunition in an emergency situation. You have a M134 in your armory. Put it on a chopper and smoke this thing!" I say, my voice is loud and demanding.

"We have families here. I'm not gonna turn this place into some kind of war zone." Claire hissed back at me .

" You already have"

"Mr. And Mrs.Grady if you are not going to help , there is no reason for you to be in here." The red head scoffs out as the walks over to one of the people who work in this room.

"I would have a word with your people in the lab. That thing out there. That's no dinosaur" Owen huffs out before he turns and storms out of the control room. I look at the screen once more as the last heart monitor flat lines before following him.

Tag list:@kaykinotic ,@rubyxx16

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Eleven*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 6k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, dubious consent, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

You waited day after day for Joel to come back. You sat in the living room most nights hoping that the door would open and it’d be him.

You didn’t know where he was or if he was okay. You called Bibby to check on him and he told you that he’d called off work for an extended time. Bibby sounded more concerned about how many cars he had on the lot than he did about Joel.

You were worried sick and you had no one to talk to about it. You couldn’t talk to anyone, except maybe…

“Hello?”

“Aunt Dawn?” You felt guilty only calling now—now that you were alone.

She sounded confused when she responded. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” You said as you lit a cigarette on the front burner of the stove. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” She said. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes.” You sounded too unconvincing not to cave immediately. “I mean, things could be better.”

“What’s going on?”

“…Did you know that Jerry told Elvis where Joel worked?”

You took a drag from your cigarette as you waited for her response, although her hesitation was enough of one.

“I did,” She said eventually. “Why?”

“No reason,” You said. “I just thought you’d tell me.”

“Should I have told you?” Dawn asked.

“Not necessarily.” You felt like you were communicating in some kind of code. “He showed up there…at Joel’s job.”

“I remember.”

“That was when he invited us to Graceland. Remember?”

“I do.”

You fell silent for a moment. “I saw him one night…without Joel.”

Dawn shifted on the other line. “Did you?”

“I did.” Your voice threatened to crack as you held back tears.

She sighed, disappointed. “Does Joel know?”

“I told him.”

“What’d he say?”

“He left a few days ago. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I-I know that you~ you’re close and he trusts you and I was just wondering if you could get in touch with him?”

“How?”

“…I don’t know.” You closed your eyes and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“I know.” You outed your cigarette and dried your eyes as best you could. “I’m so worried about him, I’m trying everything.”

“I’m sure he’s alright, wherever he is.”

“You’re right.”

“Give him some time, okay?”

“Okay.”

You tried Joel’s parents, they said a few nasty things about you calling but ultimately told you that they hadn’t heard from him.

It had been an entire week before you saw him again. In retrospect, a week away wasn’t a huge ask. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You were getting back from visiting Sinclair when you saw his truck in the driveway. He was there, bent over working under the hood.

You pulled in behind him and killed your engine. He didn’t look up from what he was doing until you approached.

He stood up straight, squinting against the sun. “Hey.”

“Hi,” You said. You didn’t know what to say. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“Just needed some brake fluid.” He wiped his hands on a dirty towel.

“Where were you?” You asked.

“Bibby’s.” He shrugged. “You?”

“Sinclair’s.”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “We should talk.”

You nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

He threw the towel down before dropping the hood of the truck. He gestured towards the porch and you led the way. You sat on the top step, Joel sitting one step down resting his elbows on his knees.

“That starter’s gettin ready to go,” He said, breaking the silence. “I shoulda changed it a while ago, it’s an old thing, so…”

Silence settled over the two of you again.

“I don’t know what I’m sayin,” He muttered, pushing his hair away from his face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say anything,” You insisted. “I’m listening.”

“I talked to him,” He said after a beat. “Elvis.”

“You did?” You asked, panicked. “What’d he say?”

“He called me at work,” Joel said. “…said Dawn told ‘im to.”

For a moment you imagined how both those conversations must’ve gone, but you were more concerned with what Joel was saying. You wanted to lean forward and inspect his expression more closely. Was he upset that you talked to Dawn?

“He didn’t say much,” He continued. “I didn’t want to hear anything from him, but…he said Dawn was worried about you, s-so I came to make sure you were alright.”

You nodded your head.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

The silence that filled the uncomfortable beats between his words made it hard for you to breathe.

You wanted terribly to comfort him in some way but you couldn’t find the nerve as you watched him struggle to keep his emotions at bay. You’d never seen him so upset and it made you sick knowing that you were the reason.

“He said I should try to make things right with you and that it wasn’t your fault, but I don’t know if I can. I-It’s just…I-I guess I thought I knew who you were, who we were…but now it feels like I don’t know anything.” He fidgeted restlessly, trying to articulate his feelings clearly. “There’s this entire part of your life that you never told me about.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Because you still love him?”

“Because I couldn’t tell anyone.”

Joel met your eyes and you fully saw his expression for what it was. “Tell me now.”

You couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why?” He shifted towards you.

“I don’t want to think about that time in my life. When we ran into each other I had been trying to forget everything from before. Because it hurt too much to remember. I loved him and he hurt me.”

“Then why did you go back?”

“Because I felt…” Your pulse soared and your breath caught in your throat. You struggled to breathe but you still forced yourself to say the words. “I-I felt like he took something from me, a-and I thought I could recapture that lost part of myself somehow. But as soon as I was near him, I… I felt seventeen again. I didn’t go there with these intentions. I thought I could show him that I was in control a-and that I was happy and doing well—despite him.”

Joel remained silent as he watched you stumble through your explanation.

“I know I kept it from you but it’s the only thing I’ve ever kept from you. Everything else is real, I’m still me. What happened, it was my fault. But I swear I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my life.”

Joel’s expression remained hard, his eyebrows drawn—conflicted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You casted your eyes downward. You failed to combat your tears, batting them away uselessly.

“I don’t know if I can work past this.” He worried his lip as he spoke. He stared off in thought for a moment before a humorless laugh left his lips. “I keep thinking about that day…when I first saw you at Graceland with Dawn.”

That first day instantly replayed in your mind. You had relived the day so many times—hyper-focused on your interactions with Elvis. Your memory wasn’t too clouded by him to remember Joel, freshly eighteen, rushing out of the house to meet Dawn. He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memory.

“I love you.”

“Tell me you don’t love him.”

“I love you.”

“This entire time you’ve been in love with him.”

“Can’t someone love more than one person?”

Joel’s eyes narrowed in hurt and he stood up from the steps. “Sure. Just not at my expense, that’s all.”

“I don’t know why I said that.” You rushed to follow him as he stormed into the house. “I love you, Joel. I choose you.”

“You choose me.” He chuckled humorlessly. He walked into the kitchen and snatched the refrigerator open to grab a beer.

“I made a mistake. I-I messed up and I’m sorry. I only want to be with you. I love you.”

He sighed and leaned back against the counter as he cracked open the beer in his hand. He tapped the metal cap against the counter with a distant expression.

“I need to think,” He finally said before straightening up and leaving the kitchen without another word.

You watched him go to the living room and drop into the crease of the sofa. He turned on the television and watched it in a slump as he gulped his beer.

You silently retreated to the bedroom with unshed tears in your eyes.

There was a distance between the two of you that grew as the days wore on. Joel spent most of his time at work. He’d leave early before you woke up and get in late after you’d gone to bed.

No matter how many days passed without saying a word to each other, Joel insisted that you keep up appearances with Sinclair and Marcus. He didn’t want them knowing about your issues, he didn’t speak about them to Bibby either.

You went along with it, for him. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable discussing it with Sinclair and Marcus either.

However, it didn’t make it any easier to tolerate his distance when he would suddenly speak to you and treat you nicely around them. It didn’t help that he kept up his image as a doting fiancé in front of your friends only to turn around and not speak a word to you.

No matter how much it hurt, you tried to endure—hoping that the two of you would eventually reach some state of normalcy.

“What?”

You kept your back to the door as you slipped off your shoes with tears in your eyes. Joel sighed before you heard him walk into the bathroom. He killed the shower and returned.

“What is it?” He asked.

You batted your tears away and stood to walk to the closet. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Who’s fighting?” He asked, following you to the closet. “Why’re you crying?”

You dropped your shoes and grabbed something to sleep in. As you made to walk past him he blocked you in with his arm. “You know why I’m crying.”

“I don’t,” He argued. “I thought we had a good night.”

“What, a good night of you pretending that you want anything to do with me?” You narrowed your eyes and pushed past him. You threw your pajamas down on the bed before turning to the dresser to remove your jewelry. “It was a wonderful night if you consider that a good time.”

“I was just trying to~”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, snatching your earrings out. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“What?” Joel asked, his voice nearer.

“This!” You faced him. “I can’t take this. Constantly feeling like I’m being punished by you. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

He remained silent and you sighed, defeated. You turned to continue getting undressed. You slipped the rings from your fingers and unclasped the necklaces from around your neck before reaching back to unzip your dress. You fumbled with the zipper, huffing in aggravation when it got jammed. “Can you~”

“Yeah~”

“It’s stuck~”

“I see.” His fingers replaced yours on the zipper and he worked out the kink before gliding it down your spine.

You expected him to step away then but he didn’t. He slipped the fabric of your dress from your shoulders and let it pool around your feet. You turned your head to look at him and found his eyes already on yours. The sudden change of pace took you by surprise and for a moment you were touch-starved enough not to care. However, another thought consumed your mind the moment it entered it.

“What happened?” You asked just as his lips grazed yours.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows twitching in confusion.

“What changed?” You didn’t feel exposed as you stood in your underwear—searching his eyes for the truth. “I thought it was a part of the act, I thought you were just dedicated to the role of a delicate fiancé because you didn’t want Sinclair and Marcus to suspect anything. But I see now that the entire night you’ve just been buttering me up to sleep with you.”

“Are you serious?”

“I want to know what put you in such a good mood that you’d suddenly look past everything and fuck me. Or should I ask who?”

“….I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

You pressured him to answer. “Something changed. What is it?”

“Maybe I just feel like it.”

You crossed your arms. “Can we talk?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Your eyebrows drew together slightly.

“No,” He repeated. “Because I still feel the same.”

“How do you feel?” You asked in a whisper.

His jaw tightened once again and he fell silent, not answering.

“We can talk to someone.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“It could help,” You insisted. “We could talk to someone licensed to deal with this kind of thing.”

“I don’t want to talk,” He said firmly. His hands trailed around your waist and he pulled your body against his.

You shivered and parted your lips in a silent gasp as he kissed your neck, then your collarbone. “…J-Joel~”

He silenced you with a kiss—his lips moved against yours intensely for a moment before he pulled away. You were overwhelmed by his touch. He stepped forward until he forced you onto the bed, littering your neck with heated kisses once again.

Despite the way your body reacted you wanted to stop him—you didn’t want things to happen like this. The longer you went without actually talking about your feelings the more the distance between you seemed to grow.

He was finally speaking to you after days and you wanted to take the opportunity to discuss what really mattered.

“Joel.” You tried again, pressing your palms against his chest.

“Don’t ruin it,” He said breathlessly as he slipped his hand between your legs. “It’s okay.”

Your brain short circuited and you moaned brokenly. It wasn't okay, nothing was okay—but it felt good.

You swore in discomfort when he entered you but it was brief.

A sensation washed over you that caused your lips to part in a silent scream. His movements weren’t gentle or even familiar. You hadn’t seen this side of him. In all the time you had been together he had only made sweet love to you. This was something else entirely.

You felt like there was nothing tactile holding you to the earth as he fucked you so far into oblivion that you didn’t care if you ever felt grounded again.

You couldn’t register much outside of the intensity of the moment, but you felt Joel’s warmth deep inside of you when he came. He collapsed beside you and for a moment there was only the sounds of your labored breathing. He sat up eventually, tucking himself back into the jeans that he never took off. “You okay?”

You nodded, weakly pushing yourself into a sitting position. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah…okay.”

You stood from the bed and walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs. You cleaned up and slipped your bathrobe on before going back into the bedroom. When you returned, Joel was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

You sat with your back against the headboard, pulling your knees up.

“I’m sorry if I~”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, looking off for a moment. “I’ll stay.”

He knew you too well. “Okay.”

He stood and walked into the bathroom. The shower ran for a long time before he returned. He didn’t say anything as he discarded his dirty clothes in the hamper and joined you in bed.

You fell asleep in his arms, and when you woke the next morning, he was gone.

*

“I’m leaving.”

“…Oh?”

Joel stood across the living room watching the rain pick up outside. He kept his arms folded across his chest—guarded. But something about his tone was more vulnerable than you’d heard in weeks.

You met him in the living room, sitting sideways on the couch so that you were facing him. He kept his back to you but continued when you didn’t respond.

“I‘ve been making arrangements.”

“What arrangements?”

“Bibby offered me a job in New York. It’s more behind the scenes and he’d pay me more for relocating.”

You waited for him to continue but he didn’t this time. “New York?” You prompted.

He faced you then—you couldn’t dissect his expression. “The offer just became solid today.”

“And you…don’t want me to come?” You asked, fearing that what you were seeing was reluctance.

“No, I don’t want you to come,” He said, confirming your doubts. “I’m sorry.”

“Joel…I-I know things haven’t been the best between~”

“That’s an understatement~”

“We can fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed. You…you broke my heart. Do you understand that?” You stood and tried to speak but he cut you off and continued. “You made your decision, now I have to make mine.”

“You’re running away? Just like that?”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Panic and anxiety swelled in your chest at the thought of Joel leaving you and moving to New York.

“You’ll have time to figure everything out. We don’t have to rush into selling the house.”

Your eyes burned with tears. “We don’t have to…”

He avoided your pain filled expression. “I have to.”

You could tell by the tears threatening to form in his eyes that the decision wasn’t one that he’d come to easily.

“I’m gonna tell Bibby I’ll go.” He sighed as he walked away. “It’s for the best.”

Elvis called you to apologize upon hearing the news from Dawn—you had been drinking your sorrows like usual when you answered the phone.

“Dawn told me what happened,” He said. He sounded remorseful. “I-I didn’t mean f-for things to turn out like this. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You tried to sound sober, instead your voice was flat and shallow—and still obviously drunk. “It’s my fault.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you,” He said. “I tried to tell Joel that it wasn’t your fault~”

“Of course it was my fault,” You snapped. “God, why are we even talking about this?”

“I feel horrible.”

“I’m sure you do…”

You sighed as silence settled over the line. You closed your eyes, waiting excruciatingly for him to say something.

“Maybe you should stay with Dawn in Memphis until you get things sorted out for yourself again.”

“What’s staying with Dawn gonna change?”

“I can put you up in your own place if you come back.”

“No.”

“Birdie~”

“I can’t go back to Memphis.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk at eleven in the morning, honey.”

You glanced halfheartedly at the time. The curtains were still drawn and the house was cold and silent. It could have been any hour.

“I hate when you do this.”

“What?”

“You go around creating all these problems and swoop in to fix them like you’re the good guy.”

“…Can I do anything?”

You wished there was something that could be done about the miserable feeling in your gut. Your chest hurt from the amount of cigarettes you’d gone through and you were nauseous from the vodka-doused wine concoction you had going.

“I should be alone,” You said. “I deserve to be alone.”

“You made one mistake.”

“It was a lot of little mistakes that led up to one big one.”

“That still doesn’t mean you deserve to be punished,” Elvis argued.

“My life is ruined.”

“How can you say that?”

You struggled to internalize your emotions, picturing them retreating to a small corner in the back of your mind instead of erupting outwardly. You wanted them to go back inside until they were nothing, until they couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“What can I do?”

“I figured it out on my own before, I’ll do it again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not coming back to Memphis.”

“Why not?”

You couldn’t believe you had to explain.

“Because I don’t want to get caught up in your bullshit again, Elvis,” You said. “I don’t want to fall into the same routine. The fighting, the constant back and forth—it’s fruitless and repetitive. I want to actually live my life. That’s why.”

“You can live your life,” He said. “I’m not gonna lock you up once you get here.”

“Sure.”

“…It could be different this time.”

“‘Could be?’”

He fell silent for a moment. “It can be different.”

You waited for him to continue but he didn’t. “I don’t want to play those games anymore.”

“No games, then. No fighting—I mean it.” His voice was low and sincere. “Come back to Graceland.”

You shook your head. You wanted to, of course you did. You were in love with Joel but you loved Elvis all the same. It hurt—it made you feel fickle.

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You couldn’t tell if you were awake or dreaming when Elvis showed up at the house in the following days. He had made his appearance discrete, you didn’t know it was him when the black impala pulled into the drive. It was late and he came alone—only him and his driver. He didn’t say anything when you let him inside. You shut the door and leaned back against it as he stood before you. He seemed out of place and too grand for the room.

You must’ve flinched when he moved towards you, or retracted in some way, because he stopped. It was silent and you refused to meet his eyes. The silence was tense, like the air after a bad fight.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked when the quiet became unbearable.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not right.”

“I came for you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve.”

He didn’t respond, instead he turned and walked further into the house. He noticed the boxes full of your things crowding the living room.

“You’re packing?”

“He’s selling the house.”

“Where are you gonna go?” He faced you when you didn’t answer. “I want to help.”

You were offended. “I don’t need your help.”

“I don’t care if you need it or want it, birdie, that’s the thing,” He said, frustrated. “I don’t want to spend another year wondering what the hell happened to you. So you can go anywhere in the world, alright? Just let me make sure you get there.”

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy, I care if you get there in one piece.”

He had neared you again, taking slow steps until he stood directly in front of you.

“Do you want me to take you to Dawn?”

“No.”

“Wilmington?”

“No.”

“Where? Somewhere around here? D’you want the house? I’ll get it for you.”

“No, Elvis.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. None of this feels real.”

You didn’t move away when he reached out and took your face in his hands. He made you meet his eyes, searching yours for a moment before his lips were inching towards yours.

You spoke before your lips met. “Not here. Please.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. His thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks. “Tell me what to do.”

You closed your eyes, your hands moving to clutch the front of his shirt. You knew better than to give in to him so easily, but you were vulnerable. You wanted him to make you disappear. “I want it to be like it never happened…like none of it ever happened.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

You were crying now but Elvis wouldn’t let you pull away. He dried your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Why can’t it be okay?”

“We can’t~”

“We can do whatever we want.”

You pulled away enough to really meet his eyes. He was being serious.

“Why did you come here, E?” You asked, suddenly grounded enough to question his motives. He was always that way—calculated and two steps ahead.

“I was worried about you.”

“And?”

“And I was hoping I could convince you to come back to Memphis with me…as my girl.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m choosing you, birdie. If you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure how to react. There was a part of you that was elated enough to cry, but it was overshadowed by the crushing feeling you had that he’d let you down. He’d get you back to Graceland and you’d be back in a predicament that you had escaped—for hardly enough time to matter. You still loved him just as much as you did a year ago—if not more after rekindling.

You had pulled his hooks out but you hadn’t gotten out of arm's reach. One wrong move and he’d sink them right back in. The scariest part of it all was that you almost longed for him to do so. You wanted the satisfaction of watching it all happen before your eyes, slowly and painfully. You wanted him to tear you apart, bit by bit, and leave you broken—you wanted to do it for the thrill of watching something crumble so perfectly.

“You don’t want me.” You meant it as a warning—no one deserved to put up with you.

“You’re all I want, little bit.” He tapped your chin. “I’ll prove it to you if you come with me.”

He laughed in a nervous way when he said it—his expression genuinely hopeful.

“You don’t have to,” He said in the wake of your silence. “Like I said, anything you want. Anywhere you want to go.”

You didn’t say anything. For a while you stood there silently deciding what your next move should be. You didn’t have anything to lose, your pride and dignity had been exerted and you were feeling hopeless.

“…Can we leave now?”

“We can leave right now.”

You packed your clothes in your luggage and Elvis helped the driver put them in the trunk. You left your key and engagement ring on the counter for Joel, you wanted to leave a note but there was nothing to say.

“We’ll send somebody for it,” Elvis said in response when you asked about the rest of your things. “It’ll be out in time.”

“Okay,” You said as he led you out of the front door. You paused, looking around the house. It wasn’t lived in anymore, but there were traces of your life with Joel all throughout the place. From the barely there wine stain on the middle cushion of the couch to the knick in the wooden frame of the door from when you moved it in. You were saying goodbye to a life that had barely gotten started. Elvis stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“Hey,” He said, making you face him. “I got you, okay?”

“Okay,” You repeated.

He kissed your forehead and led you out of the house once and for all. You climbed into the back seat of his impala, trying not to think about anything too much. If you did, you’d have a breakdown.

“It’s only an hour flight.”

“Flight?”

“Yeah, it’s quicker.”

You must’ve looked uneasy—he asked you if flying still made you nervous.

“I don’t do it enough to get past the nerves, I guess,” You said. “It’s fine, I’ll manage.”

“I’ll just give you something,” He said, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and retrieving an amber, 10 dram pill bottle. “It should help.”

“I’ll never see this house again,” You said, looking out the window longingly. “Nothing’s ever going to be the same. It’s over.”

“Take this.” He turned your head and dropped the pill into your mouth. “Hold it under your tongue.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take care of you.”

He put his arm over your shoulders and kissed your temple. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, swallowing your bitter saliva as the pill dissolved under your tongue.

“Am I a horrible person?” You asked sometime into the drive.

“No,” Elvis responded. “You can’t help who you love, can you?”

“No.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t beat yourself up about the situation. It had to happen.”

“But Joel~”

“He’s a kid, birdie. He’ll get over it.”

It didn’t matter what Elvis said, or that he had seemingly convinced Jerry of the same thing. You knew Joel, and you knew that he’d take time to work through his feelings. You knew that a part of him would never fully heal.

You wanted to feel bad, you did feel bad deep down past the artificial calm spreading over you. You got to the airport and the two of you were escorted directly onto a private plane. Things happened fast, which you were thankful for.

“You okay?” Elvis checked as you took your seats, keeping your hand in his all the while.

“I’m okay,” You said. “Are you?”

“I’m perfect now that I’m with you,” He said, bringing you with him when he sat down instead of having you take your own seat.

You looked over your shoulder to be sure the cabin was empty and the plane suddenly jolted into motion. Elvis laughed at your expression and put a protective arm around you.

“Aw, birdie,” He said. “It’ll level out eventually.”

“Not helping.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Distract me.”

The hand of his free arm traveled up your thigh and he kissed your cheek. You knew what the sudden influx of ‘harmless’ kisses meant. Once upon a time, you favored this particular tell of his the most.

“I think I know what kind of distraction you need,” He said, kissing the shell of your ear.

“On the plane?” You squirmed away from his touch, laughing prudishly at the thought.

“Haven’t you heard of the mile high club?” He asked, unbuckling the front of your coat and pushing it off your shoulders. He maneuvered you so that you straddled him, letting the coat fall to the ground.

You protested but you leaned into his touch when he kissed your exposed collar bone. You would’ve stopped him had the medication in your system not loosened your ambiguity—leaving you feeling light and euphoric. His touch erupted into a thousand tingles against your skin and you were practically vibrating with desire.

“People do it,” He said, kissing your neck. “Something about the altitude.”

You looked over your shoulder again, trying to stop him. “Elvis…someone might see.”

He stopped, looking up at you with a lustful expression. “There’s no one but us until we land, baby.”

You laughed but the sound was immediately cut short by a moan when he slipped his hand under the skirt of your dress.

“…This is wrong,” You weren’t focused on the words as you said them, all you could focus on was the way his fingers grazed you through the thin material of your underwear. “I want to do the right thing.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s right.”

He sat back in his seat, his hands rubbing your thighs before traveling up your sides and back. You released a low groan as he fingers pressed into your taught muscles. He massaged the tension out of your shoulders and kissed you slowly. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned into him.

“It’s okay,” He reassured you, one arm securely around your back while the other worked out the knot in your neck. You hadn’t realized how tense you were.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp the way he always liked. You weren’t satisfied with the low groan he released and shifted to apply more pressure to his growing erection. The sound he released when you moved your hips was satisfactory. He took your face in his hands and looked at you.

“I love you,” He whispered, his voice almost lost in the mechanical hum of the plane’s engines. “I won’t ever let you go again. I promise.”

“You love me?”

“Yes. Don’t ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t tell you all the reasons.”

You kissed him again. “Is this real?”

He wrapped both arms around your torso and hugged your body against his. “It’s real.”

“Feels like I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t. You’re here, with me. Be here with me.”

You opened your eyes. He looked at you with an intensity behind his expression that made you shiver—the world fell away like it always used to. It was familiar and all thoughts that weren’t concerning him vanished. You felt like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

You didn’t notice that he’d unbuckled his trousers and freed himself until you felt him prodding at your entrance. You tensed initially but relaxed as he pushed your panties aside and entered you. You whimpered at the stretch—groaning when he was fully seated inside.

You stayed that way for a while, connected and unmoving until his hands eventually continued roaming your body. His breath mingled with yours as he thrusted to meet your movements, making your toes curl in your shoes. You were instantly on the verge of peaking—in every regard.

“Can I, please?” You trembled against him, your abdomen constricting as you anticipated your high.

“Why would I say no?” The pleasure was too intense, you didn’t know whether to chase it or run away. Elvis groaned as you finished, following with a suppressed grunt—your name growling deep in his chest.

He swore under his breath, grabbing your chin with his clean hand and kissing your lips. “You’re adorable.”

He patted your thigh and you stood, unsteadily.

“Stay,” He instructed before going into the bathroom. He returned with a damp towel, wiping his hands clean before helping you. “Take ‘em off.”

You laughed as he slipped your panties down your legs, holding his shoulders as you stepped out of them.

“Uh, uh,” He said when you reached for them, pulling them away. “They’re mine.”

“What are you gonna do with them?”

“Commemorate the moment.”

You finished cleaning up before retaking your seat. The last of the flight blew by—the two of you clinging to each other the entire time. Before you knew it you were arriving in Memphis. You saw all the cameras but it still took you a moment to realize what was happening.

“Elvis,” You said as you took in the scene outside the window of the plane. It was dark but the lights illuminating the runway made everything clear. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going home,” He said smugly. He stood with you but you sat back down. “Come on, baby.”

You shook your head. “You go first.”

He laughed, taking your hand and helping you out of the seat. “Let’s go together.”

“E.P.?” Sonny showed up—his eyes found yours briefly, but he looked away immediately. “Car’s ready.”

“I’m not gonna stop this time, straight there,” Elvis said to him before glancing you over, tapping your chin fondly. “Let’s go, little bit.”

Your stomach turned with anxiety. “W-What if they don’t like me?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll all just lay down and die.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he kissed your cheek and led you off of the plane. At first all you could hear were voices, but soon all sounds were replaced by your heart hammering in your ears. You would’ve froze, if it weren’t for Elvis’ arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. You had feared the look on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together—now, however, you couldn’t make out anything aside from the wild flashes.

There were numerous barricades up to keep the crowd at bay, but there was still security to stop the few desperate freelancers that slipped through. Everything happened so fast—one minute you were there being photographed by dozens of people and the next you were in the back of the car. Elvis signaled the driver and the car lurched into motion.

“You okay?” He asked, helping you out of your coat and hat.

“So intense,” You said, heaving a sigh when you were free.

He reached over to place your jacket on the seat behind you. “You’re not too shook up, are you?”

You smiled and leaned into him. “A little.”

“Well, it’s over now,” He said, putting his arm around you. “You’re safe and sound.”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitated but quickly overcame your unsureness. “I still need something to calm my nerves.”

“Is that so?” The smirk on his face deepened.

“Mhm.” You don’t know if it was the rush of the paparazzi or if you were still riding some high from your activities on the plane. Regardless of the reason, you wanted him again—right then and there.

He laughed when you placed your hand on his inner thigh. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small pill bottle. “Best I can do for now.”

You pouted as he opened the bottle and shook a pill out. He bit it in half, prompting you to open your mouth before placing one half on your tongue. You were already buzzing from the half before the flight. “Is that the best you can do?”

He glanced at the driver through the partition as he grabbed a bottled water from the cup holders. “I don’t want to disturb our friend.”

You followed his gaze, taking a swig from the bottle after him. “I think he’d have a good time.”

He didn’t pull away when you kissed him—blindly taking the water and capping it off before dropping it on the ground. His hand hooked onto the bend of your knee and pulled you closer. You were practically straddling him as the two of you attempted to consume one another.

“E.P.?”

He barely pulled away. “What?”

“10-12.”

“Okay?”

“Colonel doesn’t want any photos.”

Elvis sighed glancing up in aggravation. “Tell the Colonel that there’s nothing he can do about that.”

“But~”

“Straight through, boss.”

The driver nodded and put the partition back up. Elvis groaned, pulling away with a final kiss on your cheek.

“Pull yourself together, dirty bird,” He said, helping you back into your coat. “We don’t want to let these people see you on your knees for me just yet.”

“What does the Colonel think of all this, E?”

You hadn’t thought to ask. With everything happening so quickly you barely had a chance to process what was going on, let alone form any questions.

“Don’t worry about the Colonel.”

You didn’t like that response. You knew people would be opposed to the idea, but you weren’t prepared to face the Colonel. You didn’t want to face him.

“He doesn’t know,” You said. “Does he?”

“He will soon enough,” Elvis said. “Along with everybody else. You said no secrets.”

“I didn’t expect this…he’ll never allow this.”

“I don’t need anyone’s permission to be with you.” He blindly straightened his hair and slipped a pair of shades on despite the late hour. “I didn’t bring you all this way to hope for his approval.”

You stopped him when he leaned in for a kiss and he opted for kissing your neck instead.

When you finally arrived at Graceland the streets outside of the gate were flooded. There had to be at least a hundred people gathered—some were holding signs, some were holding cameras, and some were holding back tears. They stood shouting at the car as it inched through the ruckus. You tried to get a better look at what the signs were saying but Elvis stopped you.

“Don’t pay them any mind, doll,” He said, putting his arm over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple. Something hit the window, startling you and making Elvis lean forward to snap at the driver. “Can’t they get somebody to clear the goddamn gate?”

“I think they’re trying.”

“Tell ‘em try harder.”

While Elvis went back and forth with him, you peaked outside again. You immediately wished you hadn’t when you caught a glimpse of what was written on the signs.

“O-Oh my god,” You stammered under your breath.

“Birdie.” He took your face in his hands, forcing you to look away. “I told you not to look.”

“Oh my god~”

“Don’t worry about them, honey, they’re just stuck in their ways~”

“‘Stuck in their ways?’”

He shushed you, trying to meet your eyes. “Don’t let them see you cryin. They’re gonna have to come around, like everyone else.”

You shook your head, willing your tears away. “I knew this would happen. They hate me.”

“They can’t hate you,” He said. “They don’t even know you. It’s just how it’s gonna be at first.”

Another object slammed against the window—you clung to him. “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to worry, darlin, we’re gonna pull right up to the door…” His voice started fading into the background and the sound of the chaos outside took over. “You hear me?”

Your body nodded reflexively but you couldn’t focus on anything but the crying, screaming faces of the people outside.

“Keep your head down and I’ll lead right inside and upstairs. How’s that sound?”

Another disconnected nod.

“Talk to me, baby.”

“…That sounds fine.”

He reassured you again that everything was okay as the car eventually got through the crowd and was able to stop.

When you got out of the vehicle you could hear the cameras flickering in a frenzy but you kept your head down as he led you up the steps. You expected the chaos to die down once inside, however you were met by an angry Colonel.

“Elvis Presley~”

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Elvis said, attempting to lead you upstairs.

“You get her out of this house, immediately!”

“What?”

“You heard me!”

“This is my goddamn house!”

You closed your eyes as they shouted back and forth.

“This, what you’re doing, it’s…it’s suicide,” Parker said, he was practically fuming. If you had looked up you would’ve been met by his harsh glare. “If you insist on keeping the girl, I will be forced to leave you.”

“Then I’ll be forced to let you go.”

“After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Everything you’ve done…go upstairs, birdie.” He looked at Jerry. “Take her.”

You let Jerry lead you upstairs, his hand barely gracing the small of your back as he did so. When you got to Elvis’ room he let you in before following behind. You walked over to the bed and sat down. You couldn’t get the images out of your head.

Jerry walked over to the minibar in the corner and poured you a drink. Something dark and straight.

“I shouldn’t.”

“It’ll take the edge off at least.”

You took the glass. You stood as you took a sip, setting it on the bedside table so you could remove your coat.

“He should be up any minute.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled briefly and was gone. You took some time to walk around the room. You entered the closet to find numerous items of women’s clothing. The tags still hung from them as if they were either brand new or never worn. It made you think that he had prepared in advance for your arrival. He must’ve not had a doubt in his mind that you’d come back with him.

The bedroom door opened and you were met with Elvis’ fired up expression when you left the closet.

“Elvis,” You started. “Calm down~”

“Do not try to reel me in right now, birdie~”

“It’s okay.”

“How can you fucking say that?”

You walked over to him. “I’m sorry. I-I just~ I don’t want you to be upset.”

He sighed as you hugged him, noticing the empty glass on the table. “Jerry fixed you a drink?”

You looked up at him. “What if he’s right? It’s not worth it.”

He shushed you, sitting you down on the bed. You waited for his response but he fell silent. He removed your shoes and guided you to lay down. You stopped him before he moved away.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He laid down and took you in his arms.

“What’s going to happen, E?”

“I have no idea.”

[thatsrightice]

F-14 TOMCAT ISSUES AND ACCIDENTS

The following is a compilation of issues with the F-14 Tomcat that have been encountered by pilots throughout its lifespan due to both mechanical and other reasons. Some are based on individual accidents and some cover epidemics in which many aircraft were lost to the issue *cough* compressor stalls *cough* basically it’s a bunch of ways you can hurt your fav characters in your fics so if you write something pls let me know cause I want to read it!!!

The issues range from minor hydraulic leaks to an explosion where pilots survive but the aircraft is literally in a million pieces.

LAST UPDATED 10/25/2023

Added some links to relavant FFFOTDs

Side note, the F-14 was a frickin massive tank of a fighter jet. She has taken damage to major components and still been able to land safely, so every situation is pretty unique.

Water Damage- Any type of water intrusion would cause issues with the electrical systems. It was a very common thing, so much so that they would have to duct tape anywhere water might be able to enter as a precaution when they knew it would rain.

Hydraulic Fluid Leaks - The F-14 did leak hydraulic fuel fairly often. There was a joke going around that if there isn't a bucket leaking hydraulic fluid underneath the plane then you are out of hydraulic fluid.

The Staple - On F-14 As and Bs, they would limit the jet to 4Gs maximum for three months and then they would install a metal staple to the bottom of the aircraft just forward of the tail hook. The point of the staple was to prevent severe bulkhead cracks and fuselage delamination by reducing the torquing moments caused by material fatigue. The staple is described as being a 1 foot-long and 1 inch wide solid steel part that looks exactly like a staple. As a part of their pre-flight checks, pilots would have to hang on it to ensure it wouldn’t fall out.

Airbags - Now and then, the airbags would rip and they would have to fix them.

Hydraulic Failures - Hydraulic failures happened somewhat often, but not often enough to be a prevalent issue. Generally speaking, it was common knowledge that if an F-14 wasn't leaking hydraulic fluid then it was out of hydraulic fluid. They would place buckets underneath to catch the liquid when the aircraft was not flying.

An incident from 1988 resulted from a complete hydraulic failure of both the main and the backup systems. They ruled the accident to be caused by the combination of failure of a relief valve and material failure. The Commander of the Pacific Fleet at the time believed that it could have possibly been the result of entrapped air that had been introduced into the hydraulic system through minor system maintenance.

AICS Programmers - They would have to start the airplane and then run the intake ramps aka would have to cycle the intake ramps otherwise they wouldn't be able to get off the ground.

Flap-Slat Lockout - If the flaps on either side of the jet didn't program at the same rate, it would cut it out and lock them up. They were then unable to move them as the lockout was a precaution to prevent asymmetry. This forced pilots to land without flaps, requiring an extra 22 knots during landing. It was difficult to land when they were locked out, and in many situations the end result would be pulling up next to the carrier and ejecting. Flap-Slat Lockout was a consistent issue throughout the Tomcat's life.

Unreliable Fire Warning Light - Sometimes the fire warning light would just barely start to flicker on and steadily become more prominent. Overall "just a bad system." You never actually know if there's a fire or not.

Wings Won’t Come Out - This happened at NAS Oceana. The airplane landed at a speed of 230 mph, so very close to the F-14’s stall speed. When the wings are stuck back, you can't hit the brakes during landing because there is no anti-skid and you would overheat them, if you pulled the stick back you would rotate, and with the wings back you have no spoilers so there is nothing to slow you down. In this particular incident, the pilot was able to take the long landing, but if this issue was encountered at sea it would require an ejection or divert to an airfield nearby if possible. No big explosions or fires though, it’d be a fairly calm procedure and the plane could fly into range of the ship for easy retrieval after ejection.

Low Fuel (Barricade Landing) - Bad weather at night combined with air traffic personnel being too occupied with diverting tons of airplanes, launching tankers, etc. can cause an aircraft to get low on fuel. There was a situation covered in the F-14 Tomcast episode called "F-14 Barricade" where they were unable to refuel using a tanker and were forced to do a barricade landing for their safety. They were almost forced to pull up alongside the carrier and eject. After the landing, one of the crew calculated based on the amount of fuel left that they only had about 90 seconds of flying left. This is literally the only night F-14 barricade landing ever I am pretty sure (in real life Maverick's doesn't count lol). I like it because the pilot and RIO had to tell the aircrew straight up "You have to take us now" because the pilot could no longer see the tape on the fuel gage. The crew tells their story really well and it’s really funny to listen to, especially considering the fact that they had to keep sending them around because they fucked up setting up the barrier.

Hitting the Canopy (During Ejection) - Goose's story is based on a real story in which a RIO hit the canopy during ejection and broke his spine. The reason the pilot does not also hit the canopy is because the ejection sends the RIO out first. The canopy is ejected after a couple of seconds after the handle is pulled, then the RIO is ejected after a second or two, and then the pilot another second later. The ejection seats also launch them in different trajectories so the pilot and the RIO do not collide in the air, meaning they may or may not end up in the same area. The solution would be to wait for the canopy to clear before ejecting but sometimes your don’t have that luxury.

Front Landing Gear Failure During Takeoff- While launching off of the catapult of the aircraft carrier, the nose gear attached to the shuttle broke. The landing gear and shuttle proceeded to the end of the runway without the jet, hitting the end of the ship at 305 knots and damaging the front of the carrier. The jet went off the ship with far less speed than necessary (at barely 60-70 knots) and began falling into the water as it was not enough to get the Tomcat in the air. They ejected to barely 50 feet high and were in serious danger of getting run over by the aircraft carrier. In the accident covered on the Fighter Pilot Podcast FPP004 - Ejection Seats, the RIO tells the story of his survival and the tragic loss of the pilot.

Radome (Nose Cone) Detachment - An F-14 Tomcat lost its radome during a flight due to the failure of the latching mechanism. The radome crashed into the canopy, shattering te glass of the windscreen. The pilot could only see out of a 3 inch hole in the windscreen due to the cracked windshield. He couldn't hear anything due to the noise of the wind in the cockpit, so he was unsure of the state of his RIO but assumed he was unconscious because he hadn't ejected them. The pilot flew over the carrier three times before successfully landing the plane, despite having glass in both eyes and a broken collarbone. It turns out that the RIO had been completely unharmed but with comms down he was unable to tell the pilot such. Upon landing the plane, the pilot was medevaced for eye surgery and then returned to the US.

Midair Collision - F-14A BUNo 159832 was a midair collision between two F-14 Tomcat. In this particular situation, one of the airplanes was able to divert to a nearby airport due to losing part of the right wing whereas the other crew was forced to eject. Obviously you could probably picture a situation where both jets went down.

Landng with Damage - Tomcats are a very sturdy aircraft, often described as being a tank both due to how much fuel they were able to carry and the sheer size of the aircraft. There has been an incident where an F-14 landed without one of its vertical stabilizers. In the Radome Deatchment section, the pilot was able to land the plane. The following video shows an aircraft, although not an F-14, landing aboard an aircraft carrier with significant damage on its right right side.

Single Engine Cat Shot- There was an incident where an aircraft had engine issues the moment it left the carrier. Immediately after the launch, they lost the left engine, and the first thing the pilot did was go through engine failure procedures, wingman at their side. They set up for an engine start using normal air before they attempted a cross-bleed air start using bleed air from the right engine to rotate the starter in the left engine, but neither worked. The pilot addressed the fuel distribution situation by feeding the right engine with fuel from the left to even them out and then they began dumping fuel to get to the "max trap" weight. Upon successfully landing, the Commanding Officer initially believed that the pilot had allowed the left engine throttle to roll back to idle during the acceleration of the catapult stroke, however, after maintenance personnel spun up the engine to troubleshoot, the engine spun well past its normal rpm immediately without the mechanical load it usually carried by the tower shaft meaning that something was very, very wrong. An image of the aircraft after launch can be seen below. Note the singular engine lit up.

F110 Afterburner Failure - The new engines installed were great, but they initially had a problem with the afterburner. In one recorded accident, the pilot lit the afterburner, damaging the afterburner can's lining and leading to an explosion. The Navy prohibited use of the afterburner below 10,000 ft on the F-14+/B/D until the problem could get solved but it took nearly a year to remedy.

"Thump Bang" - The easiest way to incorporate any sort of accident is to call it what the Naval Aviators call a "thump bang". A "thump bang" refers to a series of events that occur when an aircraft experiences some sort of issue they described as a "thump" and then an explosion. It's kind of hard to describe what is like in the cockpit during this sort of accident as it could have happened quickly or could have been a delayed explosion, and it could have been caused by any number of reasons. If they don't know what actually happened, they'll call it a "thump bang" and can only hypothesize what occurred. The likely scenario would have been an issue with the TF30 engines.

TF30 - The "Turd in the punch bowl, " the TF30s had two specific issues that were kind of intertwined.

Throwing Fan Blades - One of the largest issues with the TF30s was that they were with the fan blades. When the fan blades become eroded or damaged over time, they no longer compress the airflow efficiently, potentially leading to an engine stall (see Compressor Stall below). Additionally, the TF30 was known for "throwing" fan blades. This is when the fan blade becomes detached and is shot out to the side into the interior of the aircraft. Not good. Pretty bad actually. They didn't initially know they were throwing fan blades until after a couple of accidents. when they started to be more common they would retrieve the aircraft from the water (if in large enough pieces and then investigate the cause.

Compressor Stall - The actual biggest issue with the F-14 Tomcat and its TF30 engines is the compressor stalling. They literally happened all the time from a variety of different causes. Generally speaking, the compressor stalls were the result of disruption to the airflow into the compressor of the engine. The compressor has fan blades that require the airflow to be undisturbed for maximum efficiency. It was theorized to be the result of foreign object debris (FOD) ingestion into the engines. They check religiously for loose objects on the airplanes as a result, oftentimes having a crew member dive into the intake ducts to check for loose bolts. Additionally, compressor stalls could be caused by operating the aircraft outside of its limits, improper handling, etc.

The F-14 had a gated afterburner, meaning it had 5 “gates” inside of the afterburner and each one lit up a flame rack. There was no variable thrust, so it had to be either on or off. Each of the five racks was labeled as a zone. Zone 3 is what they were allowed to take off with. Coming in or out of afterburner with any angle or attack would cause the compressor to immediately stall. This was mostly due to poor design of the intake.

In general, approximately 30% of F-14A losses were attributed to high-altitude compressor stalls. When one engine stalls, more often than not it will induce the other engine to stall as well. There is a procedure to counteract the compressor stall, the specific protocol was to ease the amount of Gs, slow down, the T.I.T. would go crazy and you shut it down. Or in fighter pilot slang, “ease, slow cook it, shut it down.”

One incident in particular that was assumed to be caused by engine failure resulted in an explosion that looked so bad it was a miracle the pilot and RIO survived (see image below). The pilot escaped with minor burns to his hands, face, and neck and was able to fly within a couple of weeks. The RIO sustained more serious burns on his hands but was flying again after several weeks.

Not Touching Them For Two Days - True story; they flew best when they were used a lot.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do Barbie x GN!Mechanic!Human!Reader HCS please?

-Greek myth anon 📜

After Barbie got settled into the human world, one of the first things she had to do was relearn how to drive.

Unfortunately she can't just float into her pink car and magically start it anymore.

But she got the hang of her new ride pretty quickly...

Until she heard the brakes grinding together and saw the dreaded "check engine" light on her dashboard while driving on the highway.

She pulled over to call Gloria in a panic, opening the hood and staring at the engine, not seeing what's wrong.

"I-It just told me to check the engine, but everything looks fine! Is it going to explode?? And my brakes are making this weird noise...oh my god are they going to fail when I need them most-??"

"No, no, honey. Just breathe. You're gonna be fine. All you need is an oil change and brake fluid."

"....I need what?"

It takes a while for Gloria to explain, but eventually Barbie's on her way to the local auto repair shop to get this "oil change" and "brake fluid" that her car desperately needed.

You were one of the mechanics there, and you helped her out, seeing that she was new to this and extremely confused about the process.

Fortunately you don't like taking advantage of customers who know next to nothing about their vehicles. You've heard one too many teenagers getting ripped off and overcharged for unnecessary repairs on their first car.

You explain to Barbie (who was listed as "Barbra") how you're going to fix her car, how long it should take, the prices, etc. and she listens to every word (even if some of the jargon confuses her).

Even so, she's anxiously waiting in the lobby until you call her name and say she's all set.

The bill's pretty hefty but she has a credit card at the ready, so it's no problem for her at all (and you gave her a discount as a first-time customer).

She thanks you repeatedly as she leaves, promising to put in a good word for you with the shop's owner.

You're honestly flattered and hope to see her again.

As long as she doesn't intentionally make her car break down just so you can repair it

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 3

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

On Monday, Alba armed herself with a mop, a broom, a copious amount of dust cloth, and various cleaning fluids, powders, and waxes, packed into the basket of her bike and strapped along the frame. Papi offered to drive her, but she refused. Mr. Grunauer may not welcome another intrusion. Plus, she had the sneaking suspicion that Papi wished to check out Grunauer, to make sure that she was safe while working there. Grunauer may find that offensive. She didn't want him to feel like he was being scrutinized and have a reason to turn her out even before she could start.

Beatriz had protested having to man the counter alone, of course, but Alba knew, deep down, her sister was glad for a chance to prove herself to Papi. For her part, Alba was only too glad to get out of the hot, cramped bakery. She rode her bike down the lane toward the Grunauer place, delighting in the coolness of the swamp, where the sweltering heat could never quite reach. The message that Frank delivered on Sunday had been a pleasant surprise; then again, she was quite confident in her sandwich. Nobody could resist a Cubano from La Perla del Sur.

As she rounded a corner, Alba almost crashed into Grant's Aston Martin, which was blocking the lane, its red paint incongruous amongst all the greens. Grant himself was lounging on the hood, surveying the swamp with a pair of binoculars. Alba squeezed her brakes, mumbling a curse under her breath. She couldn't turn back now—he had caught sight of her and was lowering the binoculars with his usual arrogant smile, and with all the burden on her bike, she couldn't lift it over his car. She was stuck.

"Fancy meeting you here, Allie," he said. "Out on a morning ride?"

"Not everybody has as much free time on their hands as you do, Mr. Grant," Alba replied. "I'm on my way to work, if you must know."

"Doing what?" Grant eyed her cleaning supplies with distaste. "Cleaning?"

"Yes, I got a job as a housekeeper... at a hotel," she said, to just get him out of her way.

Grant raised an eyebrow. "What hotel made you bring your own cleaning stuff?"

Mierda. Grant may be a heel, but he wasn't a fool. "Would you move your car, please?" she said, trying to change the subject. "I'm late."

Grant didn't move. He looked down the lane, where it merged into the shadows of the swamp, and seemed to put two and two together. "I see that the bakery truck has been going to the Grunauer place quite a lot lately," he said.

"What's the big deal? Mr. Grunauer is our landlord."

"You don't know what he did during the war, do you?"

The last thing Alba wanted was to give Grant more attention, but at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. "I heard he was a medic," she said cautiously.

"He killed someone, you know."

Alba rolled her eyes. "There was a war on, in case you've forgotten, Mr. Grant. People killed each other all the time."

"No, not a Jerry. He killed someone on our side. In his unit."

This stopped Alba in her tracks. She stared at Grant. "Really?"

Grant smiled, smug now that he'd gotten her attention. "Yeah," he said. "It was on D-Day. His whole unit was killed. He was the only survivor. Isn't that suspicious?"

"No, not at all," she managed.

"They said it was friendly fire, though I have my doubts. But again, it was chaos back then. With all that fighting going on, it was easy to lose one's head."

To hear him speak, one would think that Grant had personally stormed the beach at Normandy and liberated every man, woman, and child of France, though Alba knew for a fact that he'd been stationed at Gibraltar at the time, enjoying a cushy assignment at the supply depot.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alba said, narrowing her eyes.

"Just looking out for my girl, that's all." Still leering at her, Grant moved his car an infinitesimal amount, just enough for Alba to squeeze through. She got on her bike and pedaled away without bothering to thank him.

Despite her effort not to let Grant get to her, Alba couldn't put his story out of her head. Could it be true? Was that why Grunauer never went out—not because of his scars, but because of the guilt? She didn't believe he was a stone-cold killer, but he seemed to have a bit of a temper. And if he had killed a fellow soldier, accidentally or not, and he found out that she knew... What would he do? For the first time, she realized the risk she'd put herself in. She was going to spend almost a whole day with a man she knew nothing about, in an isolated house, in a remote part of town.

It was with a certain quiver in her heart that Alba arrived at the Grunauer place. She unloaded the cleaning equipment and supplies and staggered into the house with them. Only Otto's joyful bark and his rough, wet tongue lapping at her arm in greeting jolted her out of her fearful reverie and restored some of her cheerful mood.

"Hola, Otto," she said, scratching his huge head. "I'm happy to see you too."

"Good morning, Miss Reyes," a voice said. Alba looked up to see Grunauer standing at the foot of the staircase. She peered at him, as if she could tell whether he was a killer or not just by looking, but all she could see was that sadly damaged face. At least he'd made an effort to shave today. He started to walk toward her, moving with difficulty—his left leg appeared quite stiff, something she hadn't had a chance to notice in their last two encounters.

She crossed the hall toward him, to save him the trouble. "Good morning, Mr. Grunauer," she said. She wasn't sure if she should shake his hand or not. "Please, call me Alba." He didn't reply. "Thank you for—" She was going to say "for the opportunity", only it sounded too formal, too rehearsed, like she just got interviewed for a job. Well, this was a job, wasn't it? "Thank you for this," she finished lamely. She tried to put on an eager look. "Where do you want me to start?"

Her question seemed to catch him by surprise. "I—I don't know. The whole house is a bit of a mess, as you can see. Everything needs attention." His hesitation made her feel a little better. At least he was as unsure about this as she was.

"How about you show me around and we'll see which room needs to be tackled first?" she suggested.

Grunauer looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I can't get around much," he said, indicating a cane leaning against the banisters. Alba could've kicked herself for being so thoughtless. Of course. If he had been able to get around the house, he wouldn't have let in fall into such a state. The den in the study made sense now.

"It's all right," she said cheerfully. "I'll start from the top and work my way down." She wrapped a scarf around her hair and picked up a broom. "And if I have any question, I'll just ask—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted, raising a hand. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Do what you have to do; there's no need to ask me anything."

"But what if I come across something that I'm not sure if I can throw away or not?"

"Just put them aside. I'll deal with them later." He started to sound irritated, so she simply nodded, and, ducking her head, she went past him and up the stairs, feeling those dark eyes on the back of her neck.

Alba went through the house, followed by Otto. Grunauer was right; it was a mess. Downstairs, there were the study and the kitchen, and a living room and a dining room, neither looking like it was in use. Upstairs was even worse. The air of neglect throughout the house was increased tenfold here. The rooms all seemed frozen in time, as if the inhabitants had just left that morning. Everything looked like it had been put down absently and never picked up again—a yellowing newspaper on a table, with the headline about D-Day splashed across the front page, a palmetto fan on a chair, an unfinished dress still in the machine in the sewing room, with a pair of fabric shears next to it. Only the thick, undisturbed layer of mold and dust over everything revealed the passage of time. This house hadn't been neglected in just the past two years; it had been in a slow decline for much, much longer than that.

The master bedroom and the nursery were the saddest of all. On the dressing table in the master bedroom, all the creams and powders and brushes were still laid out; the creams had gone dried and cracked, the powders becoming one with the dust, the bristles of the brushes missing. A woman's dressing gown was draped over the back of the chair. A pipe and a pair of glasses sat on the bedside table. It appeared that after his wife passed away, Dr. Grunauer had left her side of the room exactly as it had been, and when his son came home and found his father gone, he'd done the same for the other side.

The nursery, which was situated in a large, airy room at the back of the house with a bay window overlooking the swamp, was tidier, the bed showing signs of recent occupancy, but it was no less sad. The shelves were filled with toys—stuffed animals, their fur now patchy, a miniature sailboat with chipped paint and torn sails, a sun-faded globe—and books, hundreds of books. The door of the closet was left ajar, and when Alba opened it, she found the clothes inside were mostly for a boy, with only an open suitcase containing a few adult things. This must be Grunauer's old room. When he came back, he'd simply dropped the suitcase on the floor and gone on living in the same room he had since he was a child. It appeared to have been unchanged since he was ten years old. Where had the boy gone after that, and where had he been since?

But all these melancholy musings would not make the house clean. Alba shook herself free of them, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

***

Derwin put down his book when he realized he'd read the last five pages or so without retaining a single word. He'd been too busy listening to Miss Reyes. It had been so long since there was a sound in the house not made by him or Otto, that even the most ordinary noise now seemed fascinating to Derwin, and he listened to them as keenly as his father used to listen to the birdcalls and other animal noises of the swamps—the pitter-patter of her feet as she moved from room to room and lugged her cleaning supplies up and down the stairs, the swish-swish of her broom across the floor, the gentle sound of her voice as she talked to Otto while she worked. It was a distraction, but he found that he didn't mind it.

Which was a dangerous mindset to have, of course. He could not allow himself to get used to Miss Reyes. She was not here to stay. Depending on the quality of her work, she might be gone by the end of the week, or, in the best-case scenario—though best for her or for himself, he wasn't sure—she would only be around for a year or so. And then she would leave, just like everybody had left. His mother, his father, his fellow soldiers. Sometimes, Derwin wondered if he was cursed, and anybody who entered his life could only pass through briefly, like ships in the night, before leaving and never to be seen again.

So, yes, it would be dangerous to get used to Miss Reyes's presence.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from listening to her, taking comfort in the noises she made, wondering what she was doing at that moment. Then, to his confusion, he heard the front door open and close, and everything went quiet. After ten minutes of silence, Derwin picked up his cane, went into the hall, and looked out the front door. Miss Reyes's bike had disappeared from the porch.

Where had she gone?

He trudged upstairs. It appeared Miss Reyes had only started cleaning his old bedroom. She had stripped the bedding and the curtains and cleaned the windows. All the toys and books had been put neatly into some cardboard boxes she'd found God knew where, and the shelves had been dusted, though she hadn't swept the floor yet. Perhaps she'd forgotten something and gone to retrieve it—though it seemed unlikely, judging by the pile of supplies she'd brought. Or perhaps she'd found something horrifying amongst his old things and decided to flee.

Sitting down on the bare mattress, he looked over the room as if he was seeing for the first time. Since he came home, he'd slept here out of habit but never noticed how it looked. There were his old toys, the sailboat he and his father used to sail on a pond in the swamp, the stuffed dog he'd carried to bed until he left for boarding school. He flipped through the books, childhood favorites that he hadn't looked at for so long. Defoe, Stevenson, Verne, Dickens, Kipling, Twain. Books of poetry by Carroll, Wordsworth, Frost, and de la Mare, some too complex for his ten-year-old comprehension, but all had sparked a life-long passion. No, there was nothing here that would repulse a person. Perhaps she had simply been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of mess and given up.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Derwin's bewilderment and anger were replaced by despair. He'd tried to prepare himself for it, but the shortness of her stay was worse than he could have expected. She hadn't lasted even half a day. Had he done something to drive her off? Had he been too short with her, too cold, too irritable? He had no idea how he should've behaved.

He went down into the kitchen, though he knew there was nothing here that could give him a clue about Miss Reyes's departure. Otto was here, gnawing on a bone he'd found somewhere—Derwin prayed that it wasn't from some long-dead animal—and didn't seem too upset about the disappearance of a certain dark-haired young lady. Derwin sat down heavily at the table.

"It's just you and me again, boy," he said. Otto's tail gave a thump in acknowledgment.

Then the tail kept thumping, and Derwin realized Otto wasn't looking at him, but beyond him at the door. He turned around and saw Miss Reyes walking in through the back door, her arms laden with groceries.

At the sight of her, Derwin's heart gave a little jump, almost imperceptible, but any relief he'd felt at her return was immediately drowned out by his annoyance, annoyance at her for swanning off without a word, and most of all, annoyance at himself for caring so much.

"Where were you?" he asked with a scowl.

"I went grocery shopping," she said, like it was the most obvious thing. "I didn't think about it this morning, but when I came down to do the washing, I saw that the pantry and the fridge are kind of empty. There was nothing for lunch..." She trailed off, looking perplexed. "Are you angry with me?"

"You could've said something!" Derwin shouted. "I thought you'd left—I thought the work was too much for you and you'd left—or that you've changed your mind—or I've frightened you off somehow—" He hardly knew what he was saying.

She looked at him almost pityingly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize it would matter. You said not to disturb you," she said, and his irritation grew when he remembered that yes, he had indeed told her not to disturb him. She'd done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that he was jumpy as a jackrabbit and always came to the worst conclusions.

Without another word, he got to his feet and made his way to the study, where he found a blank notebook and a pencil. When he returned to the kitchen, Miss Reyes was still standing by the groceries, looking mystified and miserable.

"Here," he said, thrusting the notebook and pencil at her. "If you have a question or something to say to me, just put a note through the door of the study." She took them and tucked them into her pocket, still looking uncertain. He eyed the groceries. "And give me the bill. I'll pay you back."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said quickly. "It's for me as much as it's for you."

"Miss Reyes, if you're going to work for me, I'm not having you pay for your own lunch."

"So you agree to let me work here?" she said, her face brightening.

He'd spoken too soon. "Not yet," he replied, trying to scowl but failing. For some reason, it was impossible for him to maintain his annoyance when those green eyes were turned upon him.

"OK, I'll give you the bill." She tilted her head, studying him. Derwin suddenly felt like one of his father's reptiles. He looked away, avoiding her eyes.

"And next time, if something's running low, just tell me," he said. "I'll place an order at the store."

"Which store?"

"Wendell's."

She made a face. "They charge you an arm and a leg for delivery. And their produce isn't the freshest."

Derwin sighed. He knew his arrangements weren't ideal, but he had no choice. "What use do I have for fresh produce?" he said glumly. "I can't cook anyway."

"Well, you have me now," she said with a quick but bright smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Grunauer. I'm not going anywhere. The Reyes have never run away from anything, and I will certainly not be the first to do so. I'll have this house spick and span before you know it."

He nodded curtly and limped back to the study. About an hour later, the most mouthwatering smell wafted down the corridor, reaching all the way through the closed door of the study. It took all of Derwin's self-control not to run into the kitchen to see what feast Miss Reyes was cooking up—not that he could actually run. His stomach gurgled loudly. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a note was slipped through the bottom of the door.

Lunch is ready, it said. Would you like it in the dining room or the study?

Her handwriting was very clear and neat, without any unnecessary flourishes. Just like Miss Reyes herself.

The study is fine, he wrote back.

A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Derwin opened it to find a dish covered with a silver cloche—really, where does she find these things?—placed on a side table just next to the door.

Stuck to the cloche was another note, which said, ¡Buen Provecho! P/S: Once you finish eating, please put the dish on this table. I don't want an infestation of cockroaches to destroy all the lovely books you have in the study. Derwin's mouth quirked up in amusement, despite himself. Under the cloche, he found a piece of chicken, nicely browned, nestled in a bed of rice and vegetables. The chicken was so tender that it fell apart under his fork, the rice was soft and fluffy, and the vegetables sweet. It was, in short, the best meal he'd ever had.

Derwin was a little embarrassed that he'd scarfed down the chicken and rice in less than fifteen minutes. After waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass, he returned the dish to the table, with a note saying, Thank you. On second thoughts, he added, P/S: I'm sorry I shouted at you.

The response came with the rattling of the dish: It's OK. Those two simple words were enough, and Derwin breathed a little more easily.

The rest of the day was quiet. Miss Reyes continued to work diligently, tirelessly. Otto stuck to her like glue, and often Derwin would hear her footsteps being accompanied by the clicking of the dog's claws. Derwin was glad that the dog had found someone else to hang around with; he was well aware of how tedious his own company could be. Once, a movement in the backyard caught Derwin's attention through the window, and he looked up to see Miss Reyes hanging the washing on the lines, the sheets and curtains blowing about her like clouds. When she reached the end of a line, she lifted her head to look at the frangipani tree planted by his father at the edge of the yard, which was just beginning to put out its fragrant blooms, each looking like a little swirl of cloud containing a miniature sun at its center. A lock of her hair strayed out of her headscarf to dangle over her forehead. After trying to blow it out of her face several times without success, she pushed it back in place with an impatient but well-practiced movement, and returned to the washing. She didn't see him.

As the light outside grew dim and the sky glowed red through the cypresses' trunks, another note was pushed under the door.

I'm done for the day, the note said. There's leftover chicken in the oven for your dinner. Your room is clean, so you can sleep there again. See you tomorrow.

Derwin dragged himself out of the study and went back upstairs. Yes, she had cleaned the room. The bed was made with fresh sheets, smelling of frangipani and sunshine. Every toy, every book was back in its place. For a heartbeat, he was transported fifteen years back in time, when he was ten years old, when his mother was still alive. The only things that had been moved were his clothes—his current clothes, the few shirts and pants, his one good suit, and his dress shoes had been unpacked and hung up in the closet, while his childhood clothes were carefully put away in the suitcase.

Realizing he was still holding Miss Reyes' note in his hand, he contemplated it for a moment. See you tomorrow. Those three words put a smile on his face. Then, without really knowing why, he folded the note carefully and put it in the drawer of his bedside table.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @kitkat80

[gaphic]

you find yourself thinking ‘it’s time for an oil change. probably new brake fluid too. I wonder if there’s anything else I should take care of’ so you check the manual. rookie mistake! the manual has a list of all the supposed-to-be monthly chores you haven’t done in 4 years!

[blubushie]

Either me or my dad's the unluckiest bastard on the planet. Consider my track record, it's probably me.

I was hoping it was a lines issue and something I could fix easily. It's not. The fluid is leaking from the front plate between the tranny and engine. Probably have a fucked seal in there, which means the tranny has to be pulled and either fixed or replaced outright, depending on which is cheaper.

The leak stopped last night. I poured a whole bottle of leakstop in her before we left and we got about 40mi before she started leaking again. Now she's leaking freely. It's not dripping like it was yesterday—it's just pouring out.

I almost wonder if Tilly's too heavy for her, but Tilly's 2400# dry, she's currently dry, and Mattie's rated at 7500# gvw. Even if Mattie weighs in at 4500# (which she doesn't—more like 4000# probably, if that) that still gives me a differential of 3000#. Which is basically just UNDER what I usually keep Tilly at (2700#). All this is to say it's not a gvw issue. More likely, since this is the OG C6, that she just got too old and the tranny popped. It'd explain the burning rubber I smelt two days ago while driving—that'd be the rubber seal interior burning.

And since the tranny's flowing out fluid now, it means she's probably getting towed home. This is the second time in my life I've used a tow. Fuck's sake. Never gets less embarrassing.

Anyway I'm pulling out the bush mechanicry. Put a whole bottle of brake fluid in the tranny. Theoretically, since brake fluid's full of ether, it'd compress the seal and fix the leak. Theoretically. We'll head to the next rest stop and check there to see if she's still leaking. If she is, we're calling quits and getting a tow.

But it looks like someone shot her.

Funny bit to mention, I seen people freak out over red fluid on the track in car accidents and assume someone's died when nah, that's just tranny fluid. Blood's thicker and if someone's bleeding like that it comes out bright bright red, almost pink in colour. Red like that is more akin to a vein bleed, which can still kill you but you got more time to stop the bleed than you do an arterial bleed.

Anyway that's my bit of random knowledge for today. If your tranny's leaking, try something high in ether like brake fluid. And if you see a big red spot in the track at the site of a car accident but it has a watery consistency, that's not blood it's just a tranny leak.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

highlights from ruth buscombe's podcast interview (or, views from a strategist baddie on the track)

listened to the ruth buscombe - the former ferrari, haas and sauber strategist - pitstop podcast over lunch and intended to make only a few notes, but she’s so sharp and funny that i ended up scribbling loads. anyway, enjoy:

ruth’s on gardening leave atm (hasn’t said where she’s going yet. peep the quadrant hoodie tho...). they have long gardening leave because strategists and engineers have so much proprietary info on the cars, they’re usually allowed at least a year to wait it out so they don’t (in theory) bring the intel with them

ruth worked with the FIA to build and simulate where the DRS zones should be because DRS used to be a free for all across the whole track. crazy to imagine huh

on planning for a race vs being reactive: if other teams make a “wrong” strategy in a race or something unexpected like change their number of pitstops, you’d have to be fluid in responding to that or it fucks your race too. she used daniel in shanghai (?) one year as an example

ruth was with seb for his first ferrari win!! legend. there were a number of personnel changes when he arrived and then she was “left holding the strategy baby [for that race] and i was like — okay!” lol. “this was after 2014 a winless season and you don’t want that because you bring shame upon the whole of italy”. aksjsksks.

kinda wild tho. ruth called for the two stop in sepang that resulted in seb’s race win and was 25 when this happened. making the calls like that is so impressive

on vegas: the maths of poker is the same as the maths of strategy (what!!!!! incredible)

she worked with charles and says he’s a very genuine guy, and very talented obviously

they ask her about the lewis ferrari signing and she drops the lore that lewis had actually been in talks with them ages ago, before the merc era. “maybe this [urge] has always been there”.

she was a DIEHARD mclaren fan and went to the ferrari job interview as practice but ended up saying yes to ferrari 💀💀 “ferrari carbed and ice creamed their way to my heart. and they showed me the factory bits you don’t normally see” she’s so real. “i went to ferrari for the interview and then mclaren. like the old grey mclaren not the cool one now. people thought something was wrong with me cus i grew up loving mclaren and then i was going to work at ferrari” AHHAHAKSKSKKSKS

kind of hilariously, she gets motion sickness from watching and monitoring the sim side of the engineering, which is kinda why she switched to the strategy side. the switch happened after one of the races with nando and massa, she proposed unsealing a gearbox on one of the cars, a legal thing, and it got the team a good result so that was history

she thinks max will win based on pace advantage this year cus of the braking evolution this year

2026 is gonna be a huge change in the reg cus of the power unit

all the sacrifice is for race day because it’s such a punishing career travel and time-wise. “if you do not see pressure as a privilege this is probably not the job for you”

on diversity: there’s a study from before liberty media’s takeover that said “the average f1 fan is a 53 year old white male blue collar worker who lived in coventry”. and now there’s a much wider range of fans. and also directly references lewis’s mission 44 as helping to broaden reach.

“drivers are like children. you cannot say who’s your favourite child otherwise you cause like, years of therapy. even if you like one child better than the other you should never say” HELP HAHAH

she troubleshooted a (sauber?) race during one of her first races, there was nothing was loading on the pit wall screens. she’s furiously checking the backend. lights out and they had no numbers. then “the lord sent me an aborted start”. turns out it was a timezone setting issue in the computers. crazy stuff. they ended up going from the back to p6 (!!)

on joining the career ladder as a strategist: there is no strategy school so it’s about learning skills you need to do the job. e.g. doing a maths or computing degree etc. she did the formula student challenge when they build a f1 car

random but: “the first time ross brawn sent me an email i printed it out. best. day. of my life.” 😂

on strategy calls and being able to adapt for different tracks: “as a strategist you do not want to be a one trick pony. you want like. a whole field of ponies”

(the end. loved her perspective. hope we get more in the future!! the whole thing is 100% worth listening to if you have the time.)