#honda bay

[autumniimoon]

[radracer]

Honda Civic Hatchback EG

@rogelia_eg

[wttcsms]

i love how i can tell when a bay area asian girlie is writing a hq drabble bc only yall could possibly romanticize a late night drive doing absolutely nothing and going absolutely nowhere with a man who is not putting a label on the relationship

[cobraonthecob]

friendly reminder that liam and daniel's points combined would not have put them over haas at all, and if you only took yuki's total points, yuki singlehandedly beat alfaromeo, who scored a total of 16 points to yuki's 17

this is why yuki and daniel were chosen as the line-up this year, because yuki is the multiple-point scorer in the at04, before and after all the upgrades

[dielukedie-honda]

🍓

[pearlmarley88]

Looking to buy a car, wish me luck 🙏🏽 🤞🏽

[obrizzly]

NSX x Subaru 2.5 RS

[samanthasgone]

I’m going to take a short nap then watch the Ducks playing against Tampa Bay Lightning. Wish me luck.

[partial-print]

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

2000-2006 Chevrolet Tahoe

1992-1994 Saturn SC

1991 Ferrari Testarossa

1997-2001 Honda CR-V

made these in a trance today

[autumniimoon]

[radracer]

Love this engine bay!!

[dielukedie-honda]

My 95 is 1 of less than 15,000 according to this Motor Trend article about the De Sol. I could not let this end up in the junkyard.

It's looking great so far and not too difficult to restore. No longer headed for certain death. Some before and after comparison. Loads more to repair but that's ok.

Meanwhile it has been a great commuter car. I highly recommend late 90's JDM nuggets!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hiya! I don't know if this is appropriate to just come out and ask but I was wondering if you could do a quick adamsapple one shot of that Deadpool x Wolverine au I've been seeing? Maybe the Honda scene? 👀

Maybe adam getting a good dicking down in a car after a full on fight, blood and claws, all that good stuff lol

All good if not! I've never requested a story before but I'm feeling extra thirsty today and I absolutely love your writing 😫😫

My sweet anon, ask and you shall receive! *Cracks knuckles* And thank you!! You're so sweet 🥺

@fanofstuff01 I thought you'd appreciate this too 😁

This Honda Odyssey fucks hard 😎

Adam laid there in the Honda Odyssey with blood all over the place, the car torn to shreds from his fight with Lucifer who was currently tied up with all the seat belts.

Not that that would keep him at bay, Lucifer was already nearly halfway free from his binds.

Adam was panting, fuck he hadn't fought someone that hard in a while.

By the looks of it they won't be getting their deposit back.....

Lucifer got free and smiled at him, laying on his side one hand on his hip. "Well that was kind of fun. Want to have another kind?"

"What?" Adam looked over at him and noticed the bulge in his outfit. "Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me. We just beat the fuck out of each other and now you want to fuck?"

"Do you not?"

Adam thought about it. It has been a while since he's gotten laid. "I didn't say that."

Lucifer brightened with a smile and got on top of him. "Great! I'm glad because you are so adorable and adorably fuckable."

"How romantic." Adam deadpanned with a straight face.

"Awww, don't be that way mister Grumpy pants. Besides, as nice as you look in this fancy yellow suit, it'd like to see what you look like out of it.~" Lucifer purred as he ran a finger down Adams chest to his belly button area.

Adam rolled his eyes but started to undo his belt, no need to take the whole thing off. Most people thought his suit was one piece but it was actually two.

Lucifer watched with hungry eyes, he was so excited to finally get to fuck him. Since he laid eyes on this hunk of eye candy he wanted to be balls deep inside him.

Lucifer worked his own pants down. Adam eyed him. "No underwear?"

Lucifer smiled. "Makes it easier for many things."

Adam wasn't sure he believed him.

When they lost their pants Lucifer leaned down and actually kissed Adam. "Ready to have your world rocked?"

"If you can rock it."

Lucifer took that as a challenge.

He loved challenges.

Lucifer smiled and held his fingers up to Adams mouth. "Open wide for me princess.~"

Adam glared. "Call me princess again and I'll bite them off."

"Ooou, kinky."

Adam took the fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking on them to get them nice and wet. He wasn't naive he knew what had to happen.

Once Lucifer deemed them wet enough he moved them down to tease and open Adam up. He knew he'd be uptight but this just confirmed it.

Adam gasped and squirmed, it felt odd but not unpleasant. He moaned when something was touched inside of him.

Lucifer spit into his free hand and coated his dick with it. When he removed his fingers he placed both hands on the back of Adam's knees and pushed them up to his chest folding him nearly in half. Slowly he slid inside and moaned.

"Fuck." Adam swore as he felt everything. He needed to grab onto something and side of the car door and the next seat over was all he could grab.

But that was nothing compared to when Lucifer started to thrust into him.

"Ahhh!~ Fuck!" Adam looked down and watched as the blonde man's dick pounded into him. "Ah! Shit!~"

Lucifer enjoyed the feeling and the view Adam gave him. He really was perfect wasn't he?

"Fuck baby, we should have done this long ago."

Even though Adam couldn't really talk right now, mentally he agreed. This was some of the best sex he's had in the longest time.

Or ever.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!~"

The motion of their hips rocked the Honda hard, the beat up car squeaking loudly.

"Oh fuck! Please!" Adam begged, he could feel his release nearing.

Lucifer wanted to see him cum untouched just for being a bratty little bitch. So he pounded even harder into Adam who was now nothing more than cries of pleasure and moans until he came.

Lucifer gave a final few thrusts before he finished inside Adam and leaned down. Their breath mingled together before they kissed.

Lucifer grinned as he kissed Adam's face. "So, want to go again?"

Adam smacked his arm.

[prncssie]

miffy's note this is just the prequel; this following series centers heavily around themes of stalking. mdni fics for gaza

you’d think when you’re finally seated inside the black honda civic that the thrumming in your chest would begin to dull into a consistent rhythm. it’s supposed to be a safe space. the plush interior is supposed to be a comfort, the tinted windows are supposed to act as a bandaid. that soothed feeling, the security you’re seeking so desperately never comes. instead, each drag of air is harsher and harsher. you’re nearly wheezing by the time sukuna is seated in the driver’s seat, hand gripping the fabric of your t-shirt.

“relax. breath, girl, breath.” he’s meticulous in the way he closes his door, preventing the metal from slamming shut while devoting his attention to your unwell state. his larger hand covers yours, planted so firmly over your chest. he can feel the ragged breaths even through your fingertips. “i’m right here, okay? you’re fine now so breath f’me.”

his words are easier said than done. they don’t have a chance to fully register in your head. they become part of the murky mixture ringing between your ears. the footsteps paces behind yours ring over and over again. the crunch of the pavement under your feet, your name falling from horrid lips, it all plays in a cycle in between gasps for air. your heartbeat pounds beneath the thin layer of skin and bone. you don’t have to tell sukuna you’ve lost control because he can see it under the watery rims of your tear-filled eyes.

“jesus christ.” sukuna pulls his hand away from yours, although reluctantly, to find anything of use. as far as he knows, you don’t have an inhaler on you, nor does he believe there has ever been a moment in time where a doctor has every prescribed one for the particular situation. he considers himself lucky when his fingers clasp around plastic, thrown and discarded into the backseat of his car and even more so when the bottle is filled halfway with water. “i know it’s shady but drink it. for your breathing.”

he’s thoughtful enough to untwist the cap for you and guides the bottle to your lips. the stream of water is hot down your throat. unpleasant as it is, it does it’s job in forcing you to hold in a breath longer than you want to, letting the carbon dioxide run through your system and quell your beating heart. “if i ever see that piece of shit, i’ll kill him.” it’s more of a statement sukuna says for himself, guiding one of your trembling hands to hold the bottle for yourself. “you hold onto this and don’t worry your pretty head about a thing. you can sleep at my place.”

behind the perimeter of the store-brand water bottle, you smile as much as you can manage, albeit it’s weak. still, you attempt to show your appreciation for his kindness with the ever growing guilt that you’ll never be able to repay him for this. you actually feel quite selfish for having to rope sukuna into this. he shouldn’t have to put himself at risk because you can’t manage to keep your own problems at bay, granted having someone who is a bit too obsessed with you following you around isn’t something you have to deal with on your own. you know better than to voice your opinion on the matter. it would just earn you reprimands and challenging glares at such an asinine ideology. so instead, you take another small swig of water. “thank you ‘kuna.”

sukuna resides in a little townhouse just outside the city. the neighborhood is nowhere near as protected as you’d like but it’s somewhat comforting to have another person beside you. he’s been darling all night, opening the car door for you and letting you walk ahead of him as you trek to the front door. sukuna even punches in the numbers to his keypad at his position stationed behind you, protectively looming over your shoulder until you’re ushered through the door. “you can stay as long as you need, yeah?”

he tosses his keys onto the the console table and casts a quick glance out the window. the blinds fall back into place when he pulls away. it’s odd to him to be this kind to you. sure, there has been plenty of moments where sukuna has displayed his softer side to you but this is unprecedented. there really is no protocol for how friends like him should act when receiving such a distressing call. he’s wracked his brain enough times with the same questions, questions only you could solve. “so what the fuck happened?”

it’s such a simple question. the wording could use some critique but you’re not thinking about it when you’re kicking off your crocs onto the doormat. if anything, you’re too frenzied running through your own thoughts and experiences. every moment leading up to this flashes behind your eyes in a blur. “i don’t — i told the police. i told them and they said if i didn’t have enough proof, a threat. texts aren’t enough. i told them, sukuna. i told —”

“okay. you told them; i get that. that wasn’t my question, though. what happened, tonight?” he does his best to mind his tone, narrowed eyes tracking your movement the farther you venture into his abode. he believes you, he really does. there isn’t any room for doubt when your voice, wavering in fear, replays in his head from your phone call. sukuna is just trying to wrap his head around the situation. 

you called him during what was supposed to be a completely ordinary thursday night. it’s a distress call at that, full of your pleas to come pick you up. in a single instance, you’ve managed to upgrade your previous very casual relationship into something unlabeled where you crash at his house to evade your . . . stalker?

you’re still reeling when you plop yourself onto his sectional. it’s a hysteria you haven’t felt before. one that builds in the base of your tummy and crawls it’s way up your throat with a taste resembling bile. you curl up in your spot, feet tucked under yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. your phone slides out of your pocket, serving a reminder to let your roommate know you won’t be returning home that night. “there’s this guy. he came to my bar once and ordered a gin and tonic.” you take an interest in your fingernails and how varied the different shapes are.

this is not the first time you’ve told this story before. you’ve told it to your friends, your coworkers, your managers. you’ve told the police. sure, some people feel doubt or even shame but you? there isn’t a moment where you don’t feel rage at the loss of normalcy. your sense of ease has been stolen from you and it’s never been anyones to take. still, every time you begin the tale again, the nausea returns. the incessant queasiness finds its way back into your system.

“he’s been back every day since. he gets gin and tonic and a water. then, he got my number; don’t know how that happened, by the way. in comes the texts and calls and flowers and gifts. i told him i don’t want to talk to him, ‘kuna. i swear i did,” you turn your attention towards him. the salty tears fill your eyes once again. it’s already embarrassing enough to be here under such circumstances. there’s no help in crying. you wipe them as quickly as they fall in an attempt to build a facade that everything is fine. “he keeps texting me anyway. i’ve blocked every number, i went to the police, i did it all. this is the first time he’s ever followed me. i was just walking home from the parking lot but i didn’t want him to know where i lived so i . . . i called you.”

sukuna sighs. it’s long and drawn out, accompanied by a hand that runs through his pink hair and down his face. he pulls at the skin on is face while strolling down the hallway in your direction. it’s a lot to handle in one night with no obvious path to decide on. he supposes as long as you feel safe, things will be okay. it’s just a matter of sorting this out with the police. until then, “no yeah, that’s fine. that’s fine, ☆. call me for things like this. like i said, stay here as long as you need and we’ll sort this out in the morning.”

it’s a sentence weighted with uncertainty. there is no defined explanation behind deal with it in the morning. there is no record behind tonight other than sukuna as a verbal witness. you didn’t even get a peak at the guy’s face. if the police didn’t take you seriously then, they won’t take you seriously now. you’re damn sure of that. it’s out of your hands though, because the effects of your panic have induced a sleepiness like no other now that you’re no longer on edge. you have no reason to argue and no leg to stand on so you nod and allow sukuna to lead you upstairs in hopes of unwinding from tonight.

[omgthatdress]

I have a lot of feelings about Julie’s collection. After the election of Richard Nixon, the deaths of Janis Joplin, Jimmi Hendrix, and Jim Morrison, and then the Manson murders, the peace and love happy hippie 60s had given way to the dirty, strung-out scumbag 70s. Even though Julie is living in San Francisco, the hippie era had long since passed by 1974. As Hunter S. Thompson beautifully put it in Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas:

“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . . So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.””

I love the hippie aesthetic. I get that AG would want to have a doll that reflects that. A lot of Julie’s story revolves around her fighting for environmentalism, which is one of the aspects of hippie culture that managed to stick around, largely because of backlash to the consumerism of the 50s. But in Julie’s collection there’s plenty of times when her looks lean too far into the 60s and miss the mark of the 70s. As much as I appreciate AG doing the hippie thing, an accurate collection for the 70s would drag us to polyester hell and never let go. The 70s are one of those special eras in fashion where everything is ugly as fuck. The fashion of the 60s was much more aesthetically pleasing, but the fashion of the 70s is ironically appealing. It’s so ugly you love it. It’s ridiculous. It’s camp.

Granted, the fridge that was 1974 fashion still had plenty of hippie leftovers in it, and her original meet look with its crochet cap, embroidered tunic, and fringe belt feel true to the era.

Hand crafts like knitting and crochet had a resurgence in popularity, so I’m glad that both collections have a knitted accessory.

Part of the history lesson Julie gives is that Title IX meant schools could no longer forbid girls from wearing pants, so that’s why Julie is in jeans.

Julie’s BeForever look is straight 60s hippie. The inspiration seems to be Janis Joplin, who had been dead for four years:

AG seems to be wanting to have it both ways with Julie, and I honestly wish they’d just commit to the 70s:

On another note, the 70s would have been a great chance to have another doll of color (American Indian Movement, much?), but they went with a White girl with blonde hair. Which honestly I kiiind of get. Like if I were going to select ONE decade of the 20th century to have a blonde doll, it would be the 70s. I cannot emphasize enough how ubiquitous long blonde hair was to 70s pop culture.

For an era that still claimed to be progressive, the 70s were whitebread as hell. Outwardly there was women’s lib, civil rights, and the sexual revolution, but inwardly, the 70s were an extremely conservative decade when Jerry Falwell and the Moral Majority were just starting to lay their slimy hooks into the American political system. It’s a decade of contradictions and extremes that I wish AG would fully commit to.