#chevy carpet

[stockinterior]

Upgrade Your Chevy Car Interior: Premium Solutions Await!

Chevy Car Interior

Enjoy a comfortable ride, while Stock Interiors Chevy car interior. Personalize your car with various colors, patterns, and stitching options for a one-of-a-kind look.

[lonesomedreamereccentriclover]

Happy Birthday Chevy Chase!

[aloysiavirgata]

She walks in beauty, like the night

Scully in the simplest, blackest silk. Scully pale, moon-kissed, vulnerable. Scully’s hair and eyes like where the stars are born.

***

Scully comes to him when even the moon is all but asleep, like a single calla lily from a secret admirer. Unbidden. Unexpected.

Unparalleled.

“Mulder,” she says, outside his open door, in a negligee that last shade of sky blue before it goes pitch black.

Spaghetti straps and a low décolletage, though not shockingly low. Lace trim, mid thigh. It looks like something Katharine Hepburn would wear to slap you.

Not you. Him.

Specifically him.

She looks up at him through her heavy-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes.

He stares at her for his own sake because deep in his 12 year old heart, no one would ever, ever, believe that nerdy Fox Muld-

Scully takes another step closer onto the sad oatmeal carpet of his hotel room. She has such pretty ankles, she has such pretty calves. She smells like honeysuckle and hot bike tires and buttery lobster rolls and the sweetest, purest moments of his life.

She tips her face up to him, Agent Scully does, all eyes and lips and cheekbones like a geometric proof.

“God,” he says. And he means it.

***

LA belongs to the sun and Scully is a San Diego baby but he knows, he knows, she is an East Coast girl at heart. He knows she loves the first retinal purple-orange sunrises of America and the first sapphire kisses of night. He knows she loves the stars by which her father learned to navigate. He knows she loves the distant moon.

He knows she loves blue crabs and wool duffel coats and khaki shorts and aspires to East Hampton in her most secret, silent heart.

One day he will make love to her in London because she will, he knows, hark to the call of the City. She is a creature of old stone and lichen and liminal space.

She is the answer to Samson’s riddle.

***

He’d rented a jet black ‘57 Chevy Bel Air because Christ, this girl. Abductions and cancer and the most awful brutality and stolen ova and Christ; this brilliant, moonbeam girl.

She sees the car and she says nothing. But her eyes, her eyes. Her Star of India eyes.

Scully sees the car and she smiles, shy. Scully squeezes his hand.

***

He fucks her - hard, desperate - in the Chevy out over Mullholland and she cries out for him because even Saint Teresa writhed in ecstasy.

He kisses her the way a mariner kisses his homeland soil because she is his human credential. He kisses her like a Torah scroll. He shudders, murmurs I love you, I love you into the hot, sweet dark of her mouth.

***

She is bleeding, just a little. She is bleeding in the warm caress of a Southern California night. She is bleeding as though she were a virgin and maybe she is; maybe there is sex and there is fucking and there is making love and there is This.

Are you there, god? It’s me, Dana.

She touches his sleeping rosebud lips. She touches his funny nose and his beautiful jaw and she doesn’t say I love you aloud like he had because she’d learned it was shameful. She’d learned to salute.

But it’s 3 AM, neither properly morning nor properly night. It’s 3 AM and she isn’t LA pretty, not by a long shot, but she’s here with him, with Mulder, who is very LA pretty and has money besides.

She’s too short and too pale and her nose is patrician rather than cute and she gets burnt instead of tan. She doesn’t laugh in the right places at movies. She likes copper because it burns green, she likes moths more than butterflies, she can quote Jane Austen’s most acerbic lines.

She thinks of Mulder swimming hard across the Vineyard tides, Mulder with his cinnamon skin in the whipped cream breakers. Riding a red fixed-gear along Lake Tashmoo, tugging his tiny sister along. Mulder basking on the beach like a young god of summer. Mulder with his heart afire like Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Her father is dead and look, look Mulder has such a tender soul even if he’s Jewish and atheist, Daddy. Mulder has eyes like fern moss.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears, her eyes bright as the newest stars.

[catfuyus]

— ❝ COMING HOME ❞ ft. BAJI KEISUKE

Nothing feels right. You place the keys in a small ceramic bowl near the front door’s entrance. It’s a new smell in the same house. The smell of fresh paint that never dissipated from when you first moved in. Everything is off. As if you had suddenly awakened from a long, disassociative nothingness, and everything had changed from the moment you went under.

Everything was different, as if you were seeing it for the first time, but everything was technically, the same. Years unchanged.

You remove your shoes, hang up your bag and wander into the kitchen. It’s airy, light. The faint smell of freshly chopped herbs on the cutting board in sight. But no people. This house is empty. It’s full of things that you know you should recognize, you do recognize to an extent, but still nothing.

The sliding glass doors open to wide, green yard. Flowers blooming in the garden. There’s patio furniture placed on structured concrete with four chairs arranged for seating. Four chairs, you think absentmindedly, before shutting the doors again to wander through the kitchen and back through to the living room.

The house has stairs. Carpet padded stairs just after the tiled floor. Something tells you not to go up. Something tells you to head back out. To get out, while you still can. Get out while you still can.

So you exit the front door, bare feet padding on the cold concrete. There are flowers planted by the front door as well.

The house is a shell. Decorated warmly. Garden maintained. But there is a scent that lingers beneath the artificial candles and freshly cooked dinners. A sickening smell that speaks more to its true nature than the inhabitants can seem to admit. Or maybe they don’t notice. You noticed the smell as soon as you walked in.

A car pulls up. Your heart spikes, silently hoping, needing it not to be the person it needs not to be. You need your peace to last a little longer.

It’s a small black truck. Chevy Colorado. It’s not new, not clean on the outside. It parks on the street in the middle of the driveway. A guest not staying long. It would anger the inhabitants of the house if it did.

The door slams, and he appears around the front of the car. Smiling brown eyes. Hair pulled high into a ponytail. As he walks up the driveway you know he smells like sunlight and cologne. An old Metallica shirt you’d seen a dozen times and a silver cross necklace dangling from his neck.

He stops smiling when he sees you. Surprise taking over the features of his face. A faint, what’s wrong as he pulls you into his chest.

You hiccup. His shirt is wet where you pressed your face, tightly clutching onto the back of his shirt. You hiccup a little louder, rubbing your face into the cloth with no regard for anything else.

He leads you down the steps, the faint smell of freshly cut lawn and the summer sun passing by you with your eyes blurry. It’s a nice smell. A familiar smell. The truck door is opened and you slip into the leather seat.

We can try again tomorrow. We can try again some other time. It doesn’t have to be here. We don’t even have to try again if you don’t want to.

No it’s okay. It’s really okay.

He presses his lips against yours. Hard in a thin line. Exhaling as he pulls away. And you’re dizzied with the need for more. But his amber eyes are hard, pulled into vexing thought. And you feel protected. And needy. Arms going out to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in for another, more desperate kiss.

I’ll go get your shoes. Keys in the house? You nod. Stay right here. I’ll be right back.

You duck down, low into the seat and wait for him. He’s quick. Reappearing through the window of the car and popping the driver’s door open. He sets your keys in the cup holder, shoes on the floor, slides in and starts the car.

He takes your hand and kisses the back of your knuckles. Eyes on the mirrors as you watch his face. I love you. Puts the car and drive and leaves this awful place.

I wish I could give you more. I wish I had more to give.

You’re everything I want. I don’t want you to think I need any more than you. He smiles, wraps his large hand around your thigh. I already have all of you. You’re my whole world.

And you’re mine. Your throat hurts. Sore from suppressing emotion. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to be a bad person.

I never thought you were. Not for one second.

⋘ ──────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──────── ⋙

There are parts of the past that you miss. Coffee in the morning. Carpet under your toes. Fresh baked cupcakes and pulling out a chair for dinner.

You think those things belong there. In that house. And that’s what you miss. But all those things and their softened afternoon light. Hazy naps under the sun and a cooling evening with ice cream and tv.

These are not permanently gone. Not since you started dating Baji. He listens to the kind of music you like. Play fights with you when you’re annoying. He makes you coffee in the morning. Memorized it just the way you like. And when you look up at him with tears in your eyes and hesitant hands, he brushes your nose up against his and pulls you in for a kiss. I’ll always keep you safe.

But you don’t know that, Kei. You don’t know what’ll happen.

That’s the one thing I do know, babe. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.

And jump out of bed and bring your coffee to cling to his back all day. Taking little sips. Careful not to spill, as you keep your arms trapped around him. Keisuke is kind like that. Keeping you stuck in his arms. Under his weight. It’s almost like he needs to feel you too. Like he knows you’re safe when you’re stuck to him. His little wife. Only he knows this side of you. The softened underside of your belly that you show no one. All hard edges and growls smoothened over. When you’re with him like this, it makes him realize that you’re family. That you’ve made a home in him. That he wants it to keep growing, with just the two of you, and whatever else you make.

That your trust was hard earned, and he lives every day to be deserving of it. Knowing that he’ll always be the kind of man you need. Because he loves you, you’re the one, and no one else fits in his heart like you do. You make everything easy, and even when it’s hard, he’s still so filled with love for you. And it’s not the painful kind that your parents have hammered into you. It’s bittersweet and blossoming. Achingly beautiful and delicately loving. A tender love that protects. A fierce love that guards and releases. You’ve never known that kind of love. Not until Baji pulled you into his arms and gave you his heart.

It’s never been safe to be kind. It’s never been safe to be tender. To let them know what you’re feeling. To let them know this softer side of you. It’s never been safe.

So you became a fighter. You became strong and ferocious. A leader in part. Confident in some. Aggressive, protective, you are the one who guards, who keeps others safe. But with him, it feels so nice to sleep.

To weaken. To soften. To trust. With closed eyes and open heart. That he will take care of you. All of the parts of you. And you can connect, deeply, to the side of you that no one knows. That in safety and security, you can make a home with him. And know that he will defend it and never neglect it. Because it’s his home too. It’s his Everthing. And it means as much to him as it does to you.

[skepsiss]

Reflection: Robin's POV

This is a 4 part mini-series about the Fruity Four. It's 1989 and Steve, Eddie, and Robin are visiting Hawkins over winter break. Nancy has invited them all over for a little Christmas get-together, and we read from the point of view of each member of the crew across 1 event.

I wrote these pieces to be read in any order, so... enjoy some Steddie, vague Ronance, Vickie x Robin, and just the Fruity Four being... fruity.

Dialogue prompt "You Remember That?" for @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge. Page break/border by @/alderdoodle.bsky.social on Bluesky.

Rating: T Words: 2,521 CW: Swearing, general anxiety

Steve's Part Robin's Part Nancy's Part Eddie's Part

“Now, now, children,” Robin said as she walked into the living room holding two mugs of cocoa.

Steve and Eddie were wrestling with each other-–as usual-–and Eddie seemed to be getting the upper hand this time around.

“Seriously, one of you take this cocoa before I drop it, and we have to spend the rest of the night scrubbing the carpet clean,” Robin said sharply before Steve pushed Eddie’s head into the seat cushion and took the mug from her. 

There was a flash of something in Eddie’s eyes and Robin was worried for a moment that he would shove Steve back, but he settled instead and Steve passed him the cocoa.

Eddie had a hell of a competitive streak, so there was no knowing sometimes if that or logic would prevail—most times, logic lost. 

“I’m glad I called when I did,” Nancy said as she walked in, offering another mug to Steve for him to take. 

Eddie had huddled up with his mug as Robin was trying to seat herself back on the floor. 

“I didn’t realize you guys would be flying in from Chicago,” Nancy was sitting prim and proper on the far couch, positively glittering with her smartly clipped-back hair and her Christmas-themed dress.

“Just easier,” Steve replied. He had sat back and had an arm around Eddie like he was some kind of husband from the 1950s. It was striking how Nancy and him seemed to mirror each other; Robin could understand why they had been a good couple once upon a time. 

“Plus, I don’t want to put that kind of mileage on my car. But I’m still worried about driving that crappy, little Chevy in this kind of weather.”

“Would you get off it?” Eddie grumbled at Steve. He was hunched over his drink and slurping it tentatively, obviously not patient enough to wait for it to cool down properly. “I’ll eat my shorts if that thing can’t get us home, it’s Indiana, we’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, says the guy that didn’t believe us when we said Chicago winters were something else,” Robin retorted, before messily picking up a piece of shortbread. It crumbled in her fingers, and she awkwardly twisted and leaned over the table to keep from spilling on the rug.

“I don’t remember it being that bad! I was a kid… you remember that kind of stuff,” Eddie grouched back.

“You were like five the last time you were there,” Steve chastised, starting a harmless argument. 

Robin ignored them and instead propped her chin in her hand and smiled at Nancy.

“See what I have to live with?” 

Nancy chuckled, sounding charmed, which made Robin warm up in return. She had been a bit worried about coming over to the Wheeler’s house when Steve announced that Nancy had invited them all over before they had left the city. She hadn’t seen Nancy for ages, and she had been paranoid that all the progress they had made in their friendship during senior year would be wiped out. Nancy was a tough cookie to crack, but it seemed like once you were in, you were in. 

“What’ve you been up to then?” Robin asked before grunting and crawling onto her knees. She picked herself up carefully so she wouldn’t knock any of the plates on the coffee table over and made her way to the couch where Nancy was.

“Just school,” Nancy shrugged, looking uncomfortable for some reason. “I’ve got two more years still, but I’m hoping to get an internship this summer.”

From what Robin knew, Nancy had been attending university in New York. She had heard from the gossip vine that Nancy and Jonathan had broken up earlier in the year and Robin had told Steve and Eddie to keep it to themselves under the pain of death. At least that was the last she had heard from Vickie on the matter-–and Vickie had heard it from her little sister who had heard it from Erica Sinclair who was in debate club with her at school. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Erica with this sort of gossip, or if she was more the type to amplify a rumour without vetting her sources. 

Either way, Jonathan wasn’t here. 

“How about you?”

Robin looked up at Nancy, having zoned out, and took a moment to process what was being asked of her. 

Her? What had she been doing?

“Oh!” Robin replied, trying to laugh off her embarrassment. “Just my uh, just my basic credits. I haven’t really decided, not properly yet, well, maybe I have. I don’t know? It’s a big question. I might be transferring to another school outside of Chicago, but I have to think about whether it’s worth it and I haven’t really checked if my credits are going to transfer yet, but uh, Vickie was saying she was thinking of going to… Columbia State, so….”

Robin trailed off as she looked at the ground, trying to cover her blush. Vickie and her had been corresponding over the last several months via mail, and Robin wasn’t sure exactly where they stood. Nothing had happened between them in senior year, but they had been friendly with one another, and it was only by chance that they had reconnected earlier in ‘88. Robin liked to think they were dating-–they talked on the phone at least once a week with one another, and Robin had sent dozens of letters back to Hawkins, but they hadn’t said the word girlfriend yet. Long distance was complicated, and Robin wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or practical.

“Vickie? Vickie Newberry from school?” Nancy asked, sounding surprised but not accusatory. 

“Her high school sweetheart,” Eddie sighed, making himself sound overly dramatic.

Robin shot him a look, and Steve carried out her disdain by pinching Eddie in the side. 

“Oh… that’s sweet. Are you guys seeing one another?”

Nancy obviously didn’t know what to say, but it wasn’t a secret amongst the four of them that Robin was a lesbian. She could remember Nancy taking her hands and speaking rather sternly when she declared that it didn’t matter, and she was happy to support her. That had been nice to hear, especially from another woman, but Robin couldn’t read the tone of voice Nancy was taking now. 

“Sort of?” Robin replied, clearing her throat and shooting Steve an awkward look. Steve simply rolled his eyes and replied for her.

“Probably, but Robin hasn’t had the guts to ask her if they’re official.”

Robin scoffed at him, but all Nancy seemed to do was nod contemplatively.

“She’s still in Hawkins, right?” Nancy asked, turning the subject around a bit and taking some pressure off of Robin’s anxieties.

“Yeah, her Dad passed away suddenly in the summer of ‘86, and she stuck around to help her mom with her sister and stuff. But, I think she feels like she can move on now, or well, go to school at least,” Robin shrugged as she cradled her cocoa before taking too large of a sip and gagging at how hot it was.

“Speaking of,” Steve interjected as he shook his arm in order to read his watch. “You’ve got to leave in thirty to go meet her, right?”

Robin flushed again and glanced at Nancy, feeling guilty for having to cut and run so quickly. She had genuinely wanted to see Nancy, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t champing at the bit to walk over to Vickie’s place. 

To her relief, Nancy flashed her a smile and seemed to enthusiastically encourage Robin’s departure. 

The next thirty minutes pressed on like that, and Robin found herself relaxing into the atmosphere. Things weren’t dire like they had been in ‘86, but it felt like the four of them fell easily back into a rhythm. 

Idly, Robin thought about maybe talking to Vickie about going to school up in New York… if she was going to move away from Steve and Eddie, she might as well try and move somewhere she had a friend. It would be nice to have a proper friendship with another girl again, and Nancy was great. She was the type of person who went out of her way for you, and Robin had no doubt that if she decided to move to New York, Nancy would be all over offering her help. 

“You should probably get going.”

Robin looked up, not having realized she was being addressed.

“Rob,” Steve snorted, and Eddie snapped his fingers at her to get her attention. “It’s nine, you’re supposed to meet Vickie.”

“It’s nine?!” Robin yelled, standing up abruptly, and knocking the little plate Nancy had in her hand onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Thankfully, the dish didn’t break, and instead just strewed crumbs all over the carpet instead. Robin instantly fell over herself to try and sweep up the mess, making a bigger mess of it as she wiped at the spilled food.

“It’s fine, Robin, I’ve got it—you, stop-–you’re fine,” Nancy was placating her and Robin did eventually give up before looking at Steve anxiously.

“Yeah, alright,” he grunted, and got up from the couch to presumably go get the vacuum. Of course, he knew where it was, this house probably hadn’t changed in the last 4 years.

Robin shot Nancy another apologetic look, but she shooed Robin off toward the door.

Robin’s mind was moving a mile a minute as she pulled her shoes on and stuffed her hair under her beanie. She knew she was working herself up for no reason, it just felt like… everything could go wrong. She’d get there, and she would talk to Vickie, and then she’d find out Vickie had a boyfriend, or she had thought the whole time they were just ‘pals.’

As Robin got farther into her own head over whether or not things were actually going to be okay with Vickie, she pulled on her winter wear haphazardly. Her scarf went on second, which meant it got stuck in the zipper of her coat and she had to stop and adjust. Her boots were still untied, but she couldn’t see past the coat properly to do them up, and—god— she could only find one mitten. 

Everything felt overwhelming, and Robin knew she was on the verge of calling the whole thing off and just hiding here at the Wheeler’s house.

“Rob.”

Robin looked up from scouring the floor for her missing mitten and watched as Steve held out the glove toward her.

“It’s going to be fine,” he offered, taking her by the shoulders and rubbing them. “It’s going to be fun and easy, and you’re not going to feel like you’ve even missed a beat. Knowing what I know? There is no way she doesn’t like you.”

Robin whined as Steve spoke, her anxiety still roiling inside of her, but forced back by Steve’s words.

“But what–” she started, only to be cut off by Steve shaking her violently by the shoulders.

“Nuh uh, no. Shut up. You’re being paranoid. If something goes wrong, just call me at Eddie’s and I will wake up at 3 am and walk through the goddamn snow to your parent’s house, okay?”

Despite her nerves, Robin felt a queasy smile inch across her face. Even if shit went south, Steve would be there, and that was more comforting than Robin was willing to admit. Even without a girlfriend, it didn’t feel all that terrible knowing that she’d have Steve; probably until both their dying breaths at this point… even if Eddie protested.

Steve was still staring at her—his brows stretched upward as if he was daring her to doubt him. He was looking for some kind of answer, so Robin nodded and then sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. 

Without missing a beat, Steve turned her abruptly toward the door and yanked the door open, manhandling her to the entrance. 

“Okay… okay, okay!” Robin yelled, laughing a bit at her own stupidity and how ridiculous it was to have Steve hype her up like this. 

She looked up and grimaced slightly as she watched fluffy flakes of snow falling from the sky. She heard Steve whine behind her, but he didn’t let down his guard or let her back in.

“Okay!” Robin huffed once again, less determined and more excited than anything. Even if she was nervous, there was something thrilling about knowing she was very likely going to kiss Vickie tonight. Almost a year of correspondence and a couple of months of proper flirtation, and she was… going to kiss her. 

Robin carefully made her way down the icy path and onto the road, not bothering to check the car that was definitely stuck at the Wheeler’s tonight. 

Vickie didn’t live all that far from the Wheeler’s, actually. She was maybe a ten-minute walk away—more with the snow, but still easy enough to get to.

No one was out at this time of night, but Robin didn’t let herself romanticize the walk over to Vickie’s place. If she got distracted, she ran the risk of psyching herself out again, and she didn’t want to do that. 

Two months. She had been waiting for this for two months. Ever since, she had sworn she’d be back in Hawkins for Christmas.

She could remember a time when she had thought no girl in the world was like her. When she had stared longingly at every pretty girl she came across and yearned to be a boy just so the girls would look at her. She didn’t want to be a boy, she just wanted the girls to be gay.

Robin checked the note in her pocket and scanned the house numbers to make sure she was getting close. She knew the street just fine, but she had never actually been to Vickie’s place before. She hadn’t lived on this side of Hawkins, and her ‘friendship’ with Vickie had stayed within the wall of the school.

Eventually, Robin found the right address and moved toward the little green house, noting that Vickie’s family only put up sparse Christmas decorations. It was a simple bungalow and the quietness of the street paired with the amber glow from Vickie’s porch lights helped a lot in settling her nerves. 

Robin breathed deeply before knocking, her hands shaking slightly as she readied herself for this. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight, but she hoped it went in the direction she wanted. How romantic would it be to sit in front of the fire and kiss Vickie for the first time? To tuck her hair behind her ear and compliment those red curls with her whole chest? To feel shy hand touches and… god, maybe something much bigger than that.

Robin was about to knock a second time when the door opened and Vickie stood framed with her cropped red hair and her oversized Christmas sweater. They both stared at each other for a beat before smiling shyly, and Robin managed to swallow her nerves in order to speak.

“Hey… made it.”

[regalityandcoffee]

Ride With a Stranger: Randall "The Collector" x Bimbo! Reader Headcanons (18+)

(Aka demon Bret x Reader fjekdjsalaak)

Okay, so if you've never watched The Immortal, Bret stars as The Collector, a demon who hunts other demon who try to become good. He's got a terrible Texas accent and a love for coffee.

Warnings: Long asf, reader is kinda dumb (obvi), one night stand (or is it?), oral (to him),swallowing, cowgirl.

♡Enjoy♡

♡☆♡☆☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

♡ You probably shouldn't have been walking home so late by yourself. It was drizzling, and you didn't exactly live in the best neighborhood. But you had an umbrella, your mace, and could run pretty. You should be fine, right?

♡ You were texting on your phone when a car slid up beside you, right smooth. A pretty, old looking Chevy. You probably should've started running, but then the window rolled down. A big, kind of hairy hand came out and curled it's fingers, beckoning you over.

♡ You waddled over, tugging your dress down as you went. You bent down to look at the driver. You now were face to face with the prettiest DILF you'd ever seen in your life. "Hi!"

♡ "Hey there, sweetheart. What's a pretty little thing like you doing walking in the dead of night?" The mysterious man crooned in a Southern accent. You giggled.

♡ "I'm just walking from work, Sir, I'll be okay..."

♡ "Tsk Tsk. Can't have that, sweetie. Do you think an old gent like me could forgive himself if he let a pretty doll like you fend for himself?"

♡ You thought about it the best you could before shrugging. "I dunno?"

♡ "Come on, I don't bite, dolly. Unless you want me to."

♡ You giggled as he reached out and took your hand, giving the back a kiss.

♡ You shouldn't. But he was so nice...and his voice made your brain feel gooey... and he was so hot...

♡ On the short drive home, you found out the car was a Nova, that he was a bounty hunter, and that his name was Randall. He finds out that you're in your late 20s, manager at the local clothing store, and that your shoes were Tommy Hilfiger and you hoped the rain wouldn't ruin them.

♥︎ You also found out his eyes were big and brown and pretty, his voice was super sexy, and that it felt good to have his big rough hand rub up your thigh...

♡ He gets you home safe and sound, and of course you invite him inside.

♡ "Can I get you anything, Mister? Coffee... some ice cream, pasta... " You asked as you kicked off your shoes nd he kicked off his boots. You looked up at him. He was so tall and big, towering over you.

♡ "Hmm. That's quiet a menu, doll... are you on it too?" He purred in your ear.

♥︎ you giggled as he brought you over to the couch. He sat down, and before he could pull you close, you pushed back the coffee table a bit and kneeled in front of him on the soft pink carpet. He tilted his head as you unzipped his jeans with your pretty manicured hands. A little bit of hip movement helped him to get his jeans low enough to free his pretty dick for you.

♥︎ you felt his girth in your hands. He was so thick... you barely heard Randall's warning to pace yourself as you licked down the side of his cock, feeling a vein against your tongue. You lubed him up with your drool as you moved your hand up and down. You watched as his pretty tip leaked for you, precum dripping down. You gave it a few more pumps before you began to kiss and suck the head of his cock, relishing the praise he gave you as he rocked his hips.

♥︎ "That's it, kitten, you're treating me so good..."

♥︎ Randall's pretty hand combs through your hair and grips it well and tight. You struggle to get your mouth around him. You gag as his dick hits the back of your throat. He strokes your hair and goes slower, and you do your best to continue, feeling his pulse cock twitch in your hand as you licked and kissed and sucked at him.

♥︎ Soon his load was dripping down your chin, and you marveled as his cock was still hard in your hand. You looked up at him with your big pretty eyes and he wiped the corner of your cheek with his thumb.

♥︎ "Poor baby... come on... let me return the favor..." he leaned forward, reaching his hands under you arms to lift you onto his lap with zero effort. He tugged up your dress. "Hmm...should I push these panties to the side or rip 'em off?

♡ You gripped the shoulders of his jean jacket as he gripped your hips, lowering you onto his dick. He stretches you to your limit. He bounces you on his lap and kisses your neck, praising you for taking all of him so well as you moan and whimper for him.

♡ "By the way, doll, I don't remember you throwing me your name."

♡ He makes you cum so hard you almost black out, and carries you to the bedroom to give you another couple rounds. A trip to the bathroom to shower (and to rinse your mouth out) later and you're cuddling against the handsome stranger for the night.

♡ "It's y/n, Sir..."

♡ "Y/n... you wanna see more of me, y/n?"

♡ "Uh huh..."

♡ "Good. You're gonna be seein' a lot more of me, baby..."

♡ You fall asleep your head on his shoulder as he flips through the channels on your tv, his otherhand playing with your hair. Right as you fall asleep, you look up at him, and you swear his eyes looked different. Almost... like they had turned red...

♡ it was probably just the lighting.

♡ he's gone when you wake up. You're alone in your big bed all by yourself. You shrug it off. Maybe he'll call you later! That is, if you remembered to give him your number, which you're pretty sure you didn't. He didn't leave his number either, just a note that read:

♥︎"Call me, and I'll come running"- Randy

♡ You give it a kiss and set it on your dresser, then go to feed your cat. You start your day like normal, you go to work like normal. After your shift is over, you step outside and see a familiar car waiting for you, and a familiar man leaning against it, wearing the same jacket from last night and a new flannel shirt.

♡ "Need a ride, doll?"

♡ from then on your his pretty princess. You mostly see him at night, in the day time he's busy with his "bounty hunter" stuff. But he always comes back eventually. Sometimes Hes there to drive you home, sometimes you're woken up by a tapping on your window. Sometimes he takes you to hang out with his friends... wo are all varying degrees of strange...

♥︎ but he always holds you close, nice and tight. ♥︎

[powderblueblood]

🎵+ Eddie pls

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ THIS YEAR - THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

six cylinders under the hood crashing and kicking, aha! listen to the engine whine or eddie takes the van out alone for the first time and feels free

an: some younger!eddie angst for your nerves!!! i love writing about the Munson Men so i hope u enjoy this anon word count: 1k

Keys land with a coolness in Eddie's outstretched palm, sweaty and warm, blood pumping under the skin like a crimson whirlpool.

"I'm not about to argue with you any more, son," Wayne mumbles, shoulders slouched in surrender, "You wanna cruise around in that deathtrap, that's on you."

Eddie's mouth opens to bark out yet another instance of but it's not gonna be a deathtrap when I'm done with it! and recount all his promises of becoming a bonafide grease monkey, taking all the necessary measures to make the van good as new.

The van. His van.

He drops the argument, since Wayne's suit is always a good one to follow, and closes his fist around the keys. He's won this round. A ball of fire begins to ignite in his chest and if he's not totally hallucinating, Wayne, grumpy old Wayne, is fighting back a smile.

"I'll stay the speed limit, I swear."

The fuck he will.

"The fuck you will."

Eddie's guffaw echoes in the empty doorway as he trips over himself, running outside the trailer to embrace his new four-wheeled glory. Well, not new-- far from new, of course. She's a girl with a lotta miles on her, showing up and out in the paintwork he's going to make sure he manicures. She's no Impala but she is a Chevy, a beautiful broad-assed 1971 Chevy.

She's got the same birthday as Killer by Alice Cooper and Eddie is head over heels in love with her.

Eddie is also an incredibly reckless driver, so something this hardy is necessary. Evel Knievel over here would turn a Beemer into a pretzel soon as look at it, as evidenced by the Beemer he almost rams into while he's gunning it into Hawkins.

"Fucking watch it, freak!"

Eddie flings his head out the window as Alice keens from the stereo (that big, bumping, beautiful stereo) and wags his tongue in the direction of an irate Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, who'd just got that new set of wheels for his birthday. Eddie knew that--everyone knew that--because he wouldn't stop peacocking it around the parking lot at school.

Well, compared to Eddie's ol' beauty, that fucking thing was puny.

"Eat my dust, pretty boy!"

He cruises down the main drag of Hawkins, marveling at his view from the driver's side. His elevated seat. His hands clutching the wheel. He even tosses a gentlemanly salute to a young mom and infant daughter that crane their necks to stare at him rolling on by.

Ladies.

See this, this is what it's all about. He's finally got the war machine he deserves. His ticket to the open road, his getaway car out of dodge, his method for hauling assloads of equipment around (once Ronnie gets that drum head fixed). Even his--dare he even think it--chick magnet.

Chicks love dudes with cars. Chicks like dudes with vans even better, because there's room in the back. Privacy. Shit like that is hard to come by when you spend most nights sharing a trailer with your aging uncle whose night shifts keep getting cut.

Not-- not that Eddie is exactly drowning in missed opportunities, but should the opportunity ever present itself, he'll be ready.

He's sourcing a shag carpet.

Eddie makes a couple more turns around town, even cruises by the school for good measure-- you never know which cheerleaders are hanging around after hours.

The most important thing is he feels completely unshackled in the confines of this van. Totally impenetrable. This is a space that he doesn't feel guilty taking, a space he doesn't feel odd or inferior in. Motherfucker, this is his all his.

He slows down his speeding on purpose when returning to Forest Hills, as if Wayne doesn't already know he's assaulting those gas pedals.

He slows down as he approaches the Munson trailer. He slows, and slows, and slows, and whines to a halt where Al Munson slaps both hands on the front of the van.

"Hey, kiddo."

Al Munson, his father, has been locked up in Blackburn Correctional in Lexington, Kentucky for the past eight months. Eddie's forgotten what for, or he didn't care to listen in the first place. Al Munson was not supposed to be out for a long, long time.

Al Munson always manages to find a loophole.

He reaches through that loophole, and he takes and takes and takes.

Eddie holds his breath.

"What, your old man doesn't get a big hello? Maybe a congrats on flyin' the coop, jailbird?" Al laughs and it's warm like the whiskey he sometimes lets Eddie drink with him. Al laughs and the fucking nightingales sing, the world shakes, everything becomes technicolor except the cloud hanging over Eddie's head.

Because, as Eddie so observantly notices, Al didn't come here with a car. He probably walked his ass all the way to Forest Hills, or hitched with some poor sucker he buttered up with stories and cigarettes and charm.

Wayne lingers in the doorway of the trailer. He can't meet Eddie's eyes.

He knew this was the one thing I had going for me. He knew this was the one thing I had left. The only thing that's mine.

Except the papers for the van don't say that. The papers say Al Munson.

He was supposed to be gone for so much longer that Eddie had hoped he'd forget about the van. About Hawkins. Maybe even about him, once and for all, and Eddie could inherit the only truly good thing his shitheel father ever had going.

Al, while remarkably charming, is not a man with a lot of patience. He slaps the side of the van-- not hard, but smart. "Out of the chariot, Ed," he commands. "Let's go, boy. I gotta jet someplace."

It occurs to Eddie that he has an opportunity on his hands right here. A massive fuck-you type opportunity. He could just peel out. Throw the finger to Al, and to Wayne for betraying him and not warning him about this in due time. Speed off. Take off for Indy and figure it out from there. He's got a full-ish tank of gas.

The one thing he's missing is his father's charm. He won't get far without it. It's the kind of thing you can't say no to.

No one says no to Al Munson.

Eddie, Eddie with his hair growing long around his ears and his seized shoulders and his cloud hanging heavy with rain over his head, is not about to start now.

"Just warming her up for ya, pops."

[thefourthrabbit]

I normally do not have headers (because I am lazy), but maybe I should start doing that...for special occasions. Yes, this little blog has now officially hit 100 reblogs. Yeah!

So, as promised, I have two versions of the Rococo Hall (see the WIP notes here, here, and here) for you (download links at the end of the post).

Description:

The Rococo Hall enjoys wide recognition among the wealthy, cultured, upper-class elites throughout the Sim World. Here at this fine establishment, we proudly provide not just Michelin-level dining, catering, and ceremonial services, but a cultural experience of lordiness and excellency. Our conference hall has witnessed important events ranging from mayoral election fundraisders to St. Spleen Foundation annual charity balls, from sim-fortune 500 company year-end parties to the wedding banquets of some of the wealthiest sims in the world. You are cordially invited to our re-openning party with free champagne and cakes.

Both versions share the exterior garden and looks almost identical from the outside.

Version 1 is finished with a lobby, a two-storey dining hall, and a small(ish) multi-functional conference room.

Version 2 features a lobby, a dining room, a large multi-function conference/gala hall, and additional space for underground kitchen and other service rooms (the layout below omitted the ground level).

Boring details and download links below the cut:

A huge list of custom content is used (sorry for not crediting everyone and everything!). I placed them in a separate folder, which contains some missing cc that did not get packaged. I also included parts of the following sets:

【cc included】

Meshes:

Aileen's 3t2 conversion of luna sims architectural elements

BB's Nooks & Niches Master Set Folly Garden Extras

Cashcraft's Royal Collection Set

Cassandra's Kitchen Clutter Set (available here)

Crisps&Kerosene's TS3Store Century Manor roof stuff for TS2

CTN Tablecloth Set slaved to JonesiBB by hokadk47

ethan's glass floor set (I used the 2x2 version, slaved to the 3x3 master)

Fairy Forest's Antique Paintings (one-storey high format; one-storey wide format; square frame)

Honeywell's better bath (sink and carpet)

Holy Simoly Simply Elegant Curtain set, updated by HugeLunatic (and evanesco's addons)

Murano's Rejal Buildset

PrincessBliss's Tie The Knot Wedding Set

Raynuss's Romanesque spiral stair matching banister

Shasta's conversion of TS3 store gothique library (2-storey column, repo'd to one-storey mesh)

ShinoKCR's tableware sets (glasses, silverware, dishes, available on TSR and booty)

Sims2Luxe Door slaved by HugeLunatic (single door & double arch)

Tvickiesims's Shrubs ( I used the custom version) and Seasonal Cypresses (they are so gorgeous)

Windkeeper's Lafenetre Sets (available on TSR and booty)

【recolors pictured but NOT included】

Hafiseazale's Great Taste Dining Table RCs (found here)

Pineapple Forest's Foyer Mirror RCs, Ergo Supreme Chair Addon RCs, Luxiary King Armchair Worn RCs, Luxiaire Loveseat RCs

R13's Recolors of BuggyBooz's N&N

【cc pictured but NOT included】

Dr Pixel's 1955 Chevy Convertible

Lamare's shift everything mod

MaryLou's Buffet Tables with Custom/Alternative Foods

Veranka's Conversion of Wondymoon's Vanadium Kitchen

DOWNLOAD LINKS

Version 1 (SFS)

Version 2 (SFS)

[princetorn]

✮ @coastercrushed liked for a short starter.

In life, Royce’s world had been a palette of earthy, metallic and pastel tones.  Even those shades that tipped closer to bold and bright – like the siren-red interior of his beloved Little Sweetheart, or the brilliant teal of his father’s Chevy – could not have prepared him for the burning acid-pop of the arcade.  Floors were covered in a garishly patterned and cola-stained carpet, while a hundred machines trilled their electronic songs, sounds as synthetic as their own hulking bodies of plastic artificiality.

Here, in the middle of musty, migraine-inducing mayhem, Royce was getting destroyed at Dance Dance Revolution.  For every ‘Good’ or ‘Great’ he was awarded, Mapplethorpe smashed him with a ‘Perfect’ or a ‘Marvellous’, delivering footwork with flair and boundless energy.  It was almost a relief when the song came to an end – a jazzed up remix of an Elvis number that post-dated the hot-rodder’s death by some thirteen years – and their final scores were totalled on screen.

“Damn, Mapplethorpe, I ain’t never seen anyone dance to the king like that…!”  The words escaped Royce in a jagged and amused exhale, a plume of breathless laughter. “Just know if there was an option for the jitterbug, I’d have you on your back.”

[hummelberries]

glee kids as the car i think they have

rachel: little two-door chevy sedan from the 90s, because her dads are loaded but they still thought her first car should be a cheap used car on principle. planned on getting her a nicer car once the chevy crapped out but it's still hanging on and she's emotionally attached to it at this point. her windshield shade is gold star print, she has three sets of seat covers, and the carpet is vacuumed. it has a cd player and a tape deck. her glove compartment full of music is alphabetized. "bernie" - short for bernadette.

finn: one of those SUVs that you have to climb into, with the step-up ledge on the side. it's huge, and it seems even bigger on the inside, but he loves it, because everything on a regular chassis had the steering wheel in his lap. it's pretty recent and he feels guilty that his parents spent so much money on him so he's a really careful driver, but the car is an absolute mess of laundry and trash until once every couple months rachel or kurt starts bitching at him about how disgusting it is. he didn't name it, but he calls it "buddy."

kurt: his baby, the navigator, of course, but hear me out - he has access to an auto shop, and he loves working with his hands. what if he had a project car? a rundown 60s lincoln continental that he bought from the scrapyard, because how dare they, sure it's falling apart and has moth-eaten seats but it's gorgeous, it just needs some love. he's made a moodboard for it complete with paint samples and fabric swatches for the carpet and the upholstery, and burt was there to hug him the first time he got it to run. "sweetheart" -- blaine's a little jealous.

blaine: bmw two-seater convertible. bright red with black-trimmed white leather interior. daddy's money, yeah, but blaine doesn't resent it -- he picked it all out himself. if his dad thought he could buy blaine's love, blaine could at least have some fun with it. it makes him feel like a badass, which was something he really needed after freshman year. dad called it a ladykiller car, but blaine's boyfriend seems to like it pretty well when they're parking. "desdemona."

quinn: a pastel green volkswagen beetle, the same car she's wanted ever since she was a little girl. a present from her parents. she keeps clothes folded in the back seat out of habit; there's a picture of puck holding beth taped to the dashboard, another one of sam's little brother and sister, and one of herself, santana, and brittany. there's a picture of the whole glee club clipped under the visor, and a bible and a half-empty pack of newports in the glove box. a cross necklace dangles from the rearview mirror. she never named it.

puck: bigass ford pickup truck that always smells like marijuana. there's pool chemicals in a box on the floor in the back and a skimmer in the bed, and there's a star of david sticker on the tailgate. the only other one has the logo for ac/dc. he's pretty bad about the laundry, too, and there's a pile of cds in the passenger seat that's half fallen off into the floor next to a can of dip that he always has to fumble for. there's a big dent in the left rear door from when he and finn were taking turns doing donuts in the school parking lot when they were fourteen and one of them ran into a streetlamp. puck swears it was finn. he has menthols in his glove box, too, even though he doesn't smoke cigarettes. the ashtray is only roaches and lipstick-stained filters. quinn doesn't mention it. "the puck-mobile."

santana: a wood-paneled station wagon that was a hand-me-down from one of her tias. it's old enough that the back seat seatbelts don't have cross-straps. the breaks are iffy and something's always rattling and she claims to hate it, but selectively does not hear when her mom tells her "we can get you a better car than that deathtrap, mija." there's a hula girl on the dash and the radio's preset to the channel brittany likes, lipsticks rolling around on the bench, and a charm of saint christopher from her abuelita stuck to the inside of one of the visors. there's pom-poms and one of brittany's stuffed animals in the backseat. "bitch" or "puta."

brittany: big old minivan. and she wanted a minivan, she picked it out herself. the dashboard, bumper, and back windshield are all covered in stickers of kittens and unicorns and rainbows; there's a cat bed on the floor of the passenger seat so she and lord tubbington can hang out. she has a pair of fuzzy dice over the mirror, along with a lei, a bi pride flag, and the first friendship bracelet she got back from santana. kurt helped her bedazzle the license plate frame and cried a little when she explained that the big heart magnet full of letters is the initials of everyone in glee club. "sparkles."

sam: his first car that his parents bought him back in kentucky was a truck, but that got repo'd along with everything else. he bought himself a discrete, practical four-door sedan, in black. its interior is perpetually coated in some amount of glitter, no matter how much he vacuums; he has two carseats in it, and half of the CDs he has are kidz bop and disney soundtracks. finn and puck ceremoniously hung a red solo cup from his rearview labeled "#6", and he keeps it there, taping the family photo carole took of him, finn, kurt, and burt to the other side. brittany calls it "other sparkles"; sam doesn't call it anything.

[stockinterior]

The Unseen Luxury: Exploring Ford Car Carpets from Stock Interiors

Most people first consider the seats, dashboards, and high-tech accessories when discussing car interiors. The car carpet, on the other hand, is an unsung hero in your vehicle's interior and deserves much more recognition. The car carpet, though it may not be the first thing that springs to mind when you think of your car, is quite important for creating a comfortable, secure, and attractive driving environment. We'll delve deeper into the world of vehicle carpets in this article and examine why they're more significant than you would think.

Insulation and Comfort

The provision of a cozy and insulated surface for your feet is one of the main purposes of a car carpet. It's the first thing your feet contact when you get into your car, and it has a big impact on how you drive.

Numerous layers of padding and insulating materials are used in the creation of automobile carpets. These layers assist in dampening road noise and vibrations in addition to cushioning your footfall. This will make the travel for you and your passenger’s quieter and more comfortable, making long commutes and drives much more pleasant.

Beauty Appeal

Your unique taste and style are reflected in your vehicle's interior. Because they are aware of this, automakers provide a wide range of options for car carpets to accommodate various tastes. You may alter the interior of your car to better reflect your style thanks to the numerous colours, textures, and patterns available for car carpets. There is a car carpet to match the aesthetics of your vehicle, whether you choose a traditional, elegant pattern or a bold, athletic one.

Maintenance and Resilience

Additionally, automotive carpets must resist regular wear and tear from passengers getting in and out of the vehicle, often with muddy shoes. Because of this, they are frequently built of sturdy, stain- and dirt-resistant materials.

Modern automobile carpets are made to require less care. They are frequently coated with stain-resistant materials, making spills and accidents easier to clean up. The interior of your automobile will stay in excellent shape for many years thanks to this durability.

Considerations for Safety

Car carpeting contributes to safety in addition to comfort and style. Slip-resistant car carpets are a design feature that helps guard against unintentional falls when entering and exiting the vehicle. This safety element is especially crucial when it's slick or rainy outside.

Conclusion

Every little thing counts in the world of vehicle design, and Ford is more aware of this than most. The frequently disregarded feature of automobile carpets is evidence of Ford's dedication to offering a comprehensive and great driving experience.

Ford car carpets are a crucial component of the total package that sets Ford cars apart, from comfort and beauty to durability and safety. Therefore, the next time you get into your Ford, take a moment to notice how soft and opulent it feels under your feet, and keep in mind that even the hidden components of your automobile were created with your pleasure and enjoyment in mind.

With Stock Interior's top-notch Auto Carpet, your Ford's interior will be upgraded. Our premium Auto Carpet is made to match your exact Ford and comes in a variety of colours. They are durable, comfortable, and original fit.

Our Ford auto carpets are created especially to offer a great fit and improve the overall appearance of your car's interior. Our Ford carpets are produced from premium materials and are designed to resist regular wear and tear. They are precisely moulded with durability and precision in mind. It's never been simpler to replace your worn-out carpet thanks to simple installation and accurate fit. To give your Ford a brand-new look, select the colours that best suit your preferences. Discover our selection right away to discover the difference between a perfectly fitting and durable Ford auto carpet.

Visit: https://www.stockinteriors.com/model/fordcar/autocarpet

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

So y’all know I’ve been on the prowl for a car and hands down the wildest shit is seeing all the problems companies have with electric and hybrid cars cause like, Tesla ain’t the only bitch with exploding cars. You look at Priuses and like, Toyota’s been in the business for years so their recall notices are all like, normal car problems. You look at a Toyota and you know it’s gonna be reliable even if it’s not the fanciest car you’ve ever owned. You look at shit like the Chevy Bolt and Chevy ain’t been at this game for very long so there’s a recall notice for the battery catching fire but that’s not the most insane one. Hands down the most insane one is a recall notice for a part of the seatbelt which, if they come into contact with the carpet, can SET THE CARPET ON FIRE. Fucking pardon my guy? Your seatbelt’s gonna set the carpet on fire??? I think I’m just gonna get a bicycle instead thanks

[chemicallyenhancedbutch]

Trans Man in a Van

driving toward queer resistance in deep red america. Ty Bo Yule 7 min read · Just now Me and Cookie I am a fifty-three-year-old, white, married, educated and happy Trans man living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Last year I bought this sweet 1988 Chevy G20 conversion van. I named her Cookie Monster because of her royal blue velour upholstery and wall-to-wall shag carpet. My wife and I took her…

[ragegrove]

@strcngergirls​ sent:  “Happy birthday, Little Bee! The day is yours, what should we do?” from mama dottie 👉🏻👈🏻

billy  sits  crisscrossed  on  the  carpet  in  his  bedroom,  spring  sun  pouring  in  between  the  blue  curtains  and  agitating  his  eyes  that  still  have  sleep  in  them.  lifting  a  hand  to  rub  at  his  long  dark  eyelashes,  blond  curls  a  fresh  tangled  mess  from  last  nights  sleep,  then  goes  back  to  putting  all  the  hotwheels  in  a  line.  seeing  how  many  he’s  collected  so  far.  five  chevy  corvettes,  one  porsche,  one  chevy  nova,   two  ford  torinos,  three  trans  ams,  three  ford  mustangs,  ten  chevy  camaros.  he  loves  the  blue  ones  of  the  camaros  he  has.  maybe,  the  yellow  too.  but  definitely  the  blue.  holding  one  up  in  his  palm,  admiring  it,  thinking  it’s  the  COOLEST  and  bestest  one.  the  opening  of  his  door  and  the  exclamation  startles  him  at  first,  jumping,  before  it  immediately  puts  a  smile  on  his  face  at  the  sound  of  his  mother’s  voice  registering.  a  big  bright  one  once  his  gaze  turns  on  her––  because  she  didn’t  forget.  

“thanks,  mommy  bee.”  he  softly  giggles,  taking  the  toy  camaro  with  him  as  he  gets  up  and  quickly  hugs  her  waist.  arms  wrapping  around  her  waist,  his  face  squishing  into  her  side.  he  squeezes  her  tight.  “you  didn’t  forget.”  he  blurts  and  blue  eyes  look  up  at  his  mother’s  own,  his  sparkling  with  happiness.  of  course  a  mother  shouldn’t  forget,  billy  doesn’t  realize  that  part  is  almost  impossible.  but,  so  many  people  he  knows  does  forget.  his  dad  always  forgot...  or  rather  just  didn’t  acknowledge  before  they  left  a  few  years  ago  to  here  in  the  midwest.  his  cousins  always  forgot.  his  grandmother  barely  remembered.  he  only  has  a  few  friends,  but  they’re  not  really  close  enough  to  remember  things  like  that.  and  that’s  what  makes  it  so  bewildering  to  him,  that  he  does  have  one  person  that  remembers.  it  hurts  that  all  of  those  people  forget,  but  his  mom...  she  never  forgets.  and  that’s  why  he  looks  at  her  with  so  much  appreciation  and  love.  “my  mom’s  the  best  mommy.  don’t  forget,  okay?”  he  says  boldly  and  confidently,  softly  laughing.  truly  thinking  it,  he  has  the  best  mother  in  the  world  and  he  could  name  a  MILLION  reasons  why.  taking  a  step  back,  he  tilts  his  head  in  thought.  “can  we  have  ice  cream  cake  from  dairy  queen  and  more  hotwheels?”  holding  the  camaro  in  his  hand  up,  showing  her  his  favorite.

[dijidweeeb]

1955 Chevrolet Bel Air Custom

Why This Car Is Special

The 1955 Chevrolet (sometimes referred to as '55 Chevy) is an automobile that was made by Chevrolet in 1955. It is considered a huge turning point for the manufacturer and was a major success.

Fast forward to now and you will see this 1955 Chevrolet 150 Resto-Mod we have at Skyway Classics has a semi-truck load of performance and comfort items added to its gleaming orange and tan exterior.

Features

1955 Chevrolet Bel Air Custom

Restored at Custom Classics

355 cubic inch modified small block Chevrolet engine

Polished aluminum intake

Performance carb with the electric choke

Chrome open element air cleaner assembly

Aluminum finned valve covers with red script Chevrolet

Performance fuel plumbing

Modified electronics and distributor

Serpentine belt drive system with billet aluminum pulleys

Power steering and disc power brakes

Vintage Air

Tube headers

3-inch dual exhaust with Flowmaster mufflers

700 R4 automatic transmission with overdrive

Engine and frame both painted and detailed

Tan custom interior

Handsome bucket seat like but bench-seats

Matching rear seat and door panels

Leather-wrapped steering wheel

Custom center console with the chrome shifter and orange shifter ball

Billet aluminum dash with VDO gauges

In-dash CD player

Vintage Air with electronic climate control

Seatbelts

Tan carpet and floor mats

Finished trunk with custom fitted partitions, carpet, Bow Tie logo back of the cargo area

Hugger Orange and Tan

Full side windows in place of the original vented pieces

One-piece front and rear bumpers

Staggered-diameter Ridler alloy wheels

Performance tires

Mechanical

You will appreciate the 355 cubic inch modified Chevy small-block V-8 residing under the smoothed hood. A showpiece all on its own, it incorporates a polished aluminum intake, performance carb with the electric choke, chrome open element air cleaner assembly, aluminum finned valve covers with red script Chevrolet on them, performance fuel plumbing, modified electronics and distributor, a serpentine belt drive system with billet aluminum pulleys to drive its power steering, power brakes, alternator and Vintage Air accessory drives, and tube headers feeding 3-inch dual exhaust with Flowmaster mufflers to deliver the kind of throaty rumble guaranteed to attract attention.

A 700 R4 automatic transmission with overdrive and four-wheel disc brakes add even more to the 150's performance capabilities with the engine and frame both painted and detailed.

Interior

The tan custom interior has had its once-minimalist accommodations traded for a handsome bucket seat like but bench-seat interior featuring a matching rear seat and door panels, a leather-wrapped steering wheel, custom center console with the chrome shifter and orange shifter ball, billet aluminum dash with VDO gauges, in-dash CD player, Vintage Air with electronic climate control, seatbelts, and tan carpet and floor mats.

It even has a finished trunk with custom fitted partitions, carpet, and a Bow Tie logo across the back of the cargo area.

Exterior

Our 1955 Chevrolet 150 Sedan is a particularly fine example of craftmanship that has went into this show car.

The first thing you will notice is the paint scheme. Tastefully sprayed in Hugger Orange and Tan with carefully considered details such as full side windows in place of the original vented pieces, one-piece front and rear bumpers contribute to setting the car apart from the pack, and new staggered-diameter Ridler alloy wheels and performance rubber give it just the right stance.

Conclusion

This 1955 Chevy show car we have at Skyway Classics was built by Custom Classics that is a nationally renowned restoration facility for customizing show-winning cars of almost any make and model, from American iron to foreign exotics and vintage rarities.

1955 Chevrolet Bel Air Bradenton, Florida | Hemmings

1955 Chevrolet Bel Air Bradenton, Florida | Hemmings

1955 Chevrolet Bel Air Bradenton, Florida | Hemmings