#porche service center

[farhanak03071987]

Car Repair

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[magnificentbelieverenthusiast]

BMW Repair Dubai

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[hopefulreviewfestival]

Porsche Service Center Dubai

Looking for Porsche Service Center in Dubai? Our Porsche Garages are specialized in servicing, repairing and maintaining all Porsche models. Trust our team of expert technicians to keep your vehicle running smoothly.

[freshlightsheep]

Porsche Service Center Dubai

[swissautoservice]

5 signs that indicates your Porsche need engine maintenance

To ensure the optimal performance of your Porsche, the important components like the engine must be well maintained and constant inspection should be done by the specialists to identify the minor issues and get it sorted out at the earliest.

Getting the proper engine maintenance and diagnostic inspection at the authorized Porsche service center in Dubai & Abu Dhabi will help you to stay away from expensive repair bills and extend the lifespan of your car. Read Mor

[coffeeshopguest]

Hi! Can I request Sebastian from stardew valley during your honeymoon smut? If not, that’s totally fine

-✨🖤✨

ofc you can, I wasn't quite sure where to take it or lead into it, but I honestly really like how it turned out :) hope it was what you wanted :)

Farmer's Honeymoon

Word Count: 1520 Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, vaginal sex (should be all, lmk if I missed any!) 

The wedding was beautiful, and you'd even convinced Sebastian not to smoke over the entirety of the service - the entire town had made it (which wasn't surprising, considering there was only about 30 people in the entire town). It was beautiful, perfect. Just what you had envisioned. Other than one, small, teeny problem.

It was summer. Sebastian thought that would be the perfect time to get married - and you'd tried to explain it wasn't. One - it would be too warm. But mostly for the second reason that you couldn't leave your farm. When you addressed this to Sebastian he shrugged it off. "We can always take a trip in the winter, I want to marry you in the summer. We can do a mini-honeymoon in town," and that was that. 

And so it was. Sebastian and you were eloped in the town center, and after the celebration, you two headed back off to the farm. Sebastian officially moving in with you. Upon reaching the farm, he slid down onto the porch, staring out at the field. "We - we don't have to stay," you voiced, moving to sit beside him. "We could leave - save up and run away somewhere new and exciting." 

Sebastian laughed, he fished out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, glancing at you, "mind?" he asked as he set it in his mouth.

"Go for it," you answered, he happily lit the cigarette, looking out at the sun dipping in the sky. He thought for a while about your words, perhaps tempted by the offer.

He took a long huff, blew it out, then spoke. "I wanna stay. I know all I used to talk about was leaving but...I don't know. It's home. Shitty, boring, dusty, small - but...home," he thought for a while. "Besides, your farm is here..." he added, he pondered what else to add. Taking along drag, flicking some of the ash down onto the dirt and stomping on it. "It looks pretty, I know I've seen it here or there but...it feels different at night. Calmer."

Your head fell against his shoulder, humming a little. You two sat while he finished his cigarette and then he stood, he gently offered you a hand. "C'mon," he said softly, "Wanna celebrate our marriage," he mumbled it, a small devious look overtaking his face. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand.

"What were you thinking?" 

He tugged your hand, opening the farmhouse door. "What do you think I'm thinking?" he answered, basically dragging you across the house towards the bedroom. Sure, you two had done it a few times before marriage. Okay, a lot. But Sebastian seemed set on this being special. Once he'd reached the bedroom, he lightly guided you to the bed, laying you down on your back. "You want me to?" he whispered, eyes wandering you. Despite still being fully clothed, his gaze made you feel naked. Your head bobbed, words not forming. Sebastian's face fell ever so slightly. "Use your words, c'mon baby," he encouraged, leaning to kiss your lips. "Don't nod, tell me." 

Over the course of your relationship with Sebastian you'd learned a few things. He needed words, confirmation, noise. He climbed onto the bed, slightly on top of you, eyes focused on you. Waiting.

"God...yes, please," you whispered out, his face formed a smirk, that was all he needed. After all this time he still needed a yes and it drove you up the wall with excitement. 

He slowly leaned down, connecting your lips, his hands immediately reaching for you, tugging off any piece of clothing in his way, gripping what skin he came in contact with. Soft moans escaped him, slight groans. He pressed his clothed self against you, causing a soft reaction from you - a small whine. "More, need more," you insisted. He pulled back, examining what clothes he'd left you in. Just panties, his eyes wandered your naked form before he quickly and easily tore those off. Literally tore. "Seb~"

"It's okay, I'll buy you more," he assured, not at all phased by the action. He captured you in another kiss, hands moving to find your breasts. Grazing your nipple with his thumb, you pathetically lifted your hips trying to gain some sort of friction. He pulled his body a little further, watching your needy state. "Mh, god...so pretty," he mumbled. His hands moved down your body, slowly, reaching your thighs he spread your legs for him, examining your wet pussy. "So pretty," he repeated, slowly running a finger between your folds. You shivered, watching him.

"Seb- more...need more," you insisted pathetically, he didn't react immediately, finger lightly tracing around you, before he quickly shoved it in. Your body reacted quickly, a long guttural moan escaped you as your back arched a little. 

"Fuck, I feel that," he grunted a little, "fuck he you're tight," he slowly pulled his out, glancing up at your face. Another thing he always did - watched. Watched for your reactions to know just what felt good and just what he needed to do. He slipped the finger back in, watching to see how you took it. You bit your lip to fight back the moan that erupted and in reply, he instantly shoved a second one in. "Oh come on, give me it, moan for me," he encouraged, his other hand rubbing softly against your clit - urging you to an orgasm. 

 "Oh, fuck - Seb," you whimpered out, his eyes locked on you, glancing down at your pussy, making sure he was pumping in and out well enough, watching your wetness soak his fingers. "Gon- gonna cum..." in reply, he pumped faster, rubbed harder. You gripped the sheets of the bed, moaning out Sebastian's name. And finally, you let go. Tightening around his fingers, he coaxed out the remainder of your orgasm before pulling his fingers out. 

He wasted no time ripping off his suit, undoing the dress shirt, and tossing it to the floor. (He never cared for suits). The dress pants came next, falling to the floor you could finally see the extent of his bulge. He quickly removed his boxers, throwing them aside. He climbed fully on top of you, a hand gripping yours and lacing the fingers together. "Ready, baby?" he purred softly, never wanting to do anything you wouldn't want. 

"Yes...yes," you answered, squeezing his hand. You whined when he moved his hand away, shivering as it traced its way down your body, to your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself. "Condom?" you mumbled, looking at him. Eyes glazed, still coming down from your last high.

"Mind if I skip it tonight?" he asked, you shook your head.

"Fill me..." 

He smirked, always loving when you gave an order. He would do his best to fulfill every desire you had, he slowly and gently pushed his tip against you. Eyes glued to your face. He gave you the tip first, you groaned out and Sebastian had to remind himself to take things slow. The urge to slam in and thrust as hard as he could was tempting, but he wanted to draw out the session and make you feel as good as he possibly could. So, as you adjusted, he took his time shoving in. Watching. Waiting. Once he was sure you were adjusted, he slowly pulled back out, slowly shoved back in. Your hands wandered, looking for his shoulders, his back. You gripped him with your nails, digging into his skin. 

He groaned as your nails dug in, knowing you'd leave marks. "Mh, god...ready for more?" he whispered, you whimpered and nodded pathetically - and this time Sebastian didn't ask for words. His pace sped up, hands holding you firmly in place as his hips trusted. The room filled with sounds of your moans, his soft grunts, and skin against skin. He managed to last until your nails dug deeper into his back, clawing down it. "Can't-fuck can't hold it...cum for me baby..." 

You didn't need the words, with one hard thrust from Sebastian you bit his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming and waking up the whole town. Walls clenching tightly around his cock. He grunted, slowing his pace, letting you cum all over him before he shot his load into you, a soft moan - almost a whimper - escaped him. He waited for a moment, head thrown back and eyes shut tight. "God...keep squeezing like that and I'm not gonna...gonna stop cumming.." he grunted out, when you both came down from the high he pulled himself out.

His eyes flickered to your pussy, dripping with a mix of your two's cum. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing your lips gently. "I'll clean you up, baby," he added, standing and heading for the bathroom. 

Sure, it wasn't a trip away - but every day and night Sebastian made the honeymoon feel absolutely perfect.

tag list:

comment if you want to be tagged in future Sebastian fics!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put it in your mouth

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: Make-Up Sex & Pillow Princess

Words: 1,191

Tags: Friends to lovers; Idiots to lovers; Anal Fingering; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Power Bottom Steve; Service Top Eddie

Notes: Eddie "Foot in Mouth" Munson strikes again. He's putting so many things in his mouth in this one. Get it? (God, I'm hilarious.) 🤭

The sky is turning bright when Eddie crunches to a brake in Steve's driveway. He swings open his door and is halfway up the front porch when he stops.

He shouldn't be here, the nagging voice at the back of his mind says. Between the jitters before the tv gig and interview and everything that happened after, he hasn't slept in close to forty-eight hours. He can't exactly be trusted to make rational decisions, and even if he could, who's saying Steve wants to see him?

Eddie curses, replaying the memory that has been plaguing him the entire way here. He called Steve the second he returned to the hotel, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot that he is.

“Did you watch it?” he blurted the moment the call connected. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. The curt answer could've clued Eddie in, but he was still high on adrenaline and applause, so it didn't. 

“I dunno about you,” he sing-songed, flopping down on the bed and twirling the phone cord. “But I'd say that went pretty fucking fantastic.” 

“Fantastic?” Steve repeated dryly. “Yeah, right. Glad you think so, you fucking asshole.” 

Eddie stopped playing with the cord. 

“Stevie?” he croaked. “What's wrong?” 

Steve laughed. “If you don't know that, you're dumber than I thought.” 

Then he hung up. Eddie was left in his hotel room, staring dumbly at the receiver. When he tried to call back, Steve didn't pick up. 

Eddie wasted the better part of an hour lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Why was Steve mad at him? Ever since the beginnings of their unlikely, Upside Down forged friendship, he'd been fervently supportive of Eddie’s music. Showing up to his gigs, listening until late into the night while Eddie worked on new songs. Hell, he'd probably been more nervous about this whole thing than Eddie, seeing him off with a lingering hug and a promise to talk to him later. 

It must’ve been something he said at the interview, but what? Eddie scowled as he rehashed every single question and answer.

Where did he get the inspiration for his songs? He’d spouted some bullshit about ostracization and alienation and smalltown conventions, because the truth would’ve meant breaking about a million NDAs. 

Was he excited about the upcoming tour and album? Yes, obviously, he couldn’t wait to see all those different places, play in front of all sorts of people. 

Was there somebody at home rooting for him? A special girl maybe? Nope, nobody, he was happily single and planning on staying that- … wait. 

Eddie shot up from the bed so suddenly he gave himself vertigo, letting out a very loud and very colorful string of swear words. In the room next to his, someone banged on the wall, asking if he had any clue what time it was. Eddie didn't. He also didn't pause to find out. 

Now, a hasty check-out and one speed-limit-defying drive later, he’s staring at Steve’s front door, all previous courage slowly seeping out of him. 

Maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe he's imagining this. He has experience with imagining things - has spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like, touching Steve as more than a friend. The feel of Steve’s lips, the taste of Steve’s skin. Maybe he should leave, come back with a clear head tomorrow, so that they can talk this over like the sensible adults they-

“Shit, Eddie?” 

The door is open, spilling light onto the porch. At the center of it, nail bat in one hand, disheveled hair back-lit in caramel and gold, is Steve. He's in his sleep clothes - checkered boxers and one of Eddie’s old band shirts that he stole months ago. Those pretty eyes are large with surprise, but when Eddie takes a hesitant step towards him, Steve’s expression closes off. 

“I don't believe you,” he mutters, and makes to close the door. Eddie acts on impulse alone, bridging the distance and wedging his foot into the crack. Steve glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You,” Eddie breathes , and closes the gap. 

From one second to the next, all of his doubts evaporate, because this right here? This is all he's ever wanted. They crash into the wall of the foyer, nail bat clattering to the floor, and Eddie spends a glorious few minutes reveling in the heady rush of Steve’s lips on his, Steve's mouth opening for his tongue, Steve’s nails clawing into his back. 

When they part, Steve is deliciously flushed, lips shiny and slightly parted, ragged puffs of breath tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Want you,” Eddie repeats. “Fuck, Stevie, I've wanted you for so long. I'm such an idiot, I never-” 

“Prove it then,” Steve says. His arms loop around Eddie’s neck, slotting them further together, and Eddie gasps as his cock presses against his thigh - a long, hard weight through the thin fabric of his shorts. “If you want me so much, show me just how desperate you are.” 

*

“More. Deeper. C'mon, or are you tired already?” 

Eddie moans around an aching jaw. He isn't tired, he's in heaven. There's drool running down his chin, his tongue and neck and shoulders are on fire, but Steve is here with him, sprawled against the headboard like a king, spread out for him like a feast. 

Steve fists one hand into the curls at the back of his head, shoving him back down on his cock, and Eddie swallows him down in one greedy gulp, eager to show his devotion. Looking up at Steve through tear-clouded eyes, he pushes his fingers deeper inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot. Steve gasps and clenches around him, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back to reveal that long neck. The taste of precum floods Eddie’s tongue, salty and delicious, and he moans around the cock lodged in his throat. Lust coils painfully in his stomach, shooting up his spine like red-hot sparks, and his naked cock throbs with it. 

“Please,” he says, pulling off with an obscene, wet sound. Steve looks down at him, brows raised, eyes bright and glassy with arousal. “Please, Stevie, I need-” 

“Huh,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he's trying to sound unimpressed, even with the way it comes out around a shaky moan. “You think you've earned it?” 

Eddie smiles. 

“Me?” he says. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s leaking tip, reveling in the whine he gets when he pulls his fingers out. “Oh, honey, this isn't about me. This is all about you.” 

He licks and bites his way up Steve's hip bones, his stomach, that glorious chest and neck, drinking in every little gasp, every shuddering breath. 

“All that time you spent waiting for me to finally get it? I think you've earned it. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. You deserve to feel so good. Please, baby, let me make you feel good.”

“Asshole,” Steve says, but this time, it's full of fondness. “You always know what to say, huh?” 

“Not always,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth, greedily swallowing Steve’s moan as he pushes in. “Only when it matters most.” 

More smutty September

[dcdreamblog]

Watched a clip of an interview with Ted "Wildcat" Grant, and he mentioned the he once "swam two miles with three bullets in his lung", and it hit me. Man was not just a professional boxer, but for years was the reigning *Heavyweight Champion of the World*. How'd he hide or explain away the inevitable physical result of spending every night fighting heavily armed gangsters, spies, saboteurs and supervillains with his bare hands, when he was routinely walking into a ring with no shirt on in front of huge crowds, getting inspected by refs and whatever you call the guys who take care of fighter's injuries, having his photo taken, etc.?

You just answered your own question. He was Heavyweight Champion of the World. He always came in at weight before the fight and he played it clean as a whistle in the ring. Were YOU gonna question him in front of the crowd, or where a sports reporter might hear you?

(The famous photo of Grant's final victory against Cassius Clay before professional retirement, Las Vegas)

Beyond that, Ted Grant's personal life was (assumed to be) a known quantity. He was a roughneck from a harsh part of Gotham and he retained a strong sense of "street principles". Even out of his uniform he was often seen getting into fights with catcallers, deadbeats and anyone else who offended his sense of decency on the street. More than once he came upon a man striking his wife or child and beat said man into a hospital bed in broad daylight.

If you were the ref, or the reporters, any new scar or bruise that couldn't be explained as the price of his living COULD be explained away as Ted Grant being Ted Grant even away from the camera. I am going to list for you actual things Ted Grant did, in his civvies, during his period of active sportsmanship. Not one of these is a lie.

He got so offended at a beat cop shaking down newsies for protection money that he started a fight. He fought said cop, his partner and 4 other beat cops who joined in. And won.

He saw an off duty sailor, who had half a head of height on Grant, refuse to leave two women alone. He put the sailor's head through a table and scared off half a dozen other service men just by telling them who he was.

He crashed through the front window of a hotel lobby because he was trying to strangle a reporter who called him a "Nip Lover" for speaking out against Japanese internment.

AND, my personal favorite

He walked past a bar known to be a hang out for the local Klan chapter. Heard one of them on the bar's porch call him a "White Man's inspiration", walked directly up to the bar, split the oak door off its hinges with one punch and thrashed all 29 men inside walking away with only a black eye and bruises from his right shoulder to elbow where one of them broke a METAL BAR STOOL across it. He then made a habit of bringing black friends and ring staff to said bar, daring anyone to make a fight out of it (which they often did, to repeated results) until the bar shut down. Where he then used the pot from his next fight to buy the land and donate it to the NAACP. If you've ever been to the Grant Rec Center that does after school for the north end of The Narrows in Gotham, now you know why its called that.

No one questioned Grant showing up with a shiner and a crooked tooth, they just contented themselves with the knowledge the the other guy A. deserved it and B. got it worse.

[cipheramnesia]

Part 3: The Death, Rebirth, and Afterlife of Parasite Alice

The Riverside Clinic for Wellness and Long-term Care weathered safely the storms of the burn just as all the worst memories navigate the mindscape unimpeded. The venerable history of the red brick and white trimmed building carried it through the poor and homeless left in squalor to the airy chill of lobotomy and electroshock therapy, two wings wide and three floors tall. Its height well serviced its intent, too short for escape even via a yearning leap from the roof to its concrete driveway.

The persistance of such single-minded enclosure of the divergent mind carried forward to the interior, with mutiply sectioned floors along each wing navigable only through a network of stairwells. A more modern elevator spired through the center of the building, lever operated and gated by iron on all sides. None of the layers of white tile or muted gray carpet or soothing art prints or geometic wall paintings over the years could fully excise the prison lovingly built into the architecture. Inside, it promised no escape. Outside its dignified facade offered warm reassurance that aging loved ones to difficult children and everyone in between would be safely forgotten.

Some part of Alice understood all this as the square black truck complained about stopping at the brick stairs with their awkwardly late addition of a wheel chair accessible ramp, leading to wide white doors set with large windows blocked by gauzy white curtains. The driver helped her out of the car and she said, "I can do it just fine!" before almost falling as her legs wobbled. She didn't like strangers touching her, but now everyone was a stranger and she leaned on a stranger just for the simple task of reaching the door of the building where she will die of cancer.

The doors swung inward to reveal an average man with a surfeit of dignity to his gray peppered mustache and deep, dark eyes beneath a noble high forehead and a gently swept back head of mostly gray hair. His thick belly preceded his wide shoulders into any room, and his hands were noticeably large with thick fingers, moving quickly and nimbly to pull a wheelchair onto the small porch. He wore checked trousers, a pale yellow golf shirt, and his arms were exceptionally hairy.

"So good to meet you," he let one hand overtake his stomach to greet Alice, which she disregarded. "My name is Dr Hopewell, and I'm the administrator here at Riverside. I've heard quite a bit about you, and I wanted to make you comfortable right away. You're quite the special guest!" He smiled away the dignity of his profile.

"I don't need a wheelchair," she said. The driver shrugged and let her go, forcing her to grab to armrests to keep standing. "I'm just tired." She gave daggers out of her eyes to both men before maneuvering herself into the seat. "Don't get used to this."

The driver passed a clipboard over her head. "You gotta sign for the delivery, also initial there... and there. Sign and date there too. Okay, nice knowing you."

Dr. Hopewell was already turning her and rolling her into the building before the driver started the truck. "Don't worry Alice, we'll make sure you have the best of care here. You're a celebrity after all, but there may be a few bumps ahead!" They wheeled past a heavy wood door and a much larger orderly took over, pushing her down the hall then bumping up a flight of stairs.

"We specialize these days in unique individuals like yourself. I understand you won't persue treatment?" She folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you change your mind, we can be ready to start immediately." The chair and orderly bumped back down stairs into another long hallway. "But here is your room, and we've put you with someone you should get along with. She's very unique."

The room was small, two beds with a curtain divider, wall mounted TV sets, a closet bathroom, one tall window and a few small sets of sad artificial wood drawers.

Another woman sat in a rolling tube frame chair in the far corner of the room. She was big and soft and still in pajamas, her belly stuck out a bit from under the top, and her sloping shoulders seemed to be a permanent fixture of her slouch while the sweeping curve of her neck to her chin echoed in her faint jawline. Her nose was long and straight and Alice thought it was very fine with her dark black eyes looking a thousand miles away and her arrow straight glossy black hair hanging behind the chair. Alice wondered what it would be like to hold her hand. Would she squeeze hard or gently? Interlaced or fingers to thumb.

She about the woman's hands and lips and eyes enought, it took her longer than it should have to realize the other woman was also shimmering with the golden glow of the burn.

[girlkisser13]

hebe cabin headcanons

children of hebe

• the younger they are, the easier they are to trace. this is due to their mother being the goddess of youth.

• they are very forgiving, compassionate, and understanding individuals. they have this aura of kindness that often makes them the best people to talk to about personal problems.

• they’re the innocent one in the friend group.

• they have celestial bronze legos that they scatter in front of barefoot monsters.

• baby faces. all of them.

• they all have naturally clear skin.

• they find "anti-aging" skin creams so amusing. they all the real way to stay youthful forever, and it’s a lot less pleasant than slapping lotion onto your face.

• they 100% run a skincare business with the aphrodite cabin.

• none of them are american.

• they all speak different languages but they’re all able to understand each other.

• it’s the same way babies can seemingly talk and understand each other. even if there are differences, they still seem to share a deep innate language with each other.

• they’re the embodiment of a healed inner child.

• you know those people in the hospitality industry who are, like, scary good at their job?

• like the hotel concierge, or maître d’hotel, or wedding planner who runs the tightest ship you’ve ever seen, and can provide services for their customers that don’t even seem possible?

• those are the children of hebe.

• they’d also make really good servers, bartenders, and plastic surgeons.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is adorned with a variety of fresh flowers, growing in beds around the cabin or hanging in baskets. they also feature hebe shrubs (named after their mother).

• the architecture incorporates playful and youthful design elements, such as carvings of children and decorations of butterflies, and birds.

• small fountains of water surround the cabin, adding a sense of freshness and continuous renewal. the sound of trickling water could create a calming and rejuvenating atmosphere. there is a big one right in front of the entrance that represents the fountain of youth.

• a statue of their mother, hebe, stands near the entrance, she’s holding a chalice as she did in mythology, symbolizing her role as the cupbearer to the gods.

• a wide, welcoming porch with comfortable seating invite campers to relax and enjoy the youthful energy that the cabin exudes. the porch is decorated with cozy cushions and potted plants.

cabin interior

• lots of pastels, stained glass, curtains, but still a very comfortable and welcoming area. they also have a huge vending machine in the cabin.

• the cabin is constantly filled with the scent of blossoms and fresh grass, giving it a perpetually fresh and lively feel.

• since hebe is associated with youth and beauty, there are elegant vanity tables with ornate mirrors. these mirrors have a subtle magical quality, enhancing the viewer’s best features.

• the furniture is cozy and inviting, with plush couches and bean bags. the beds are adorned with soft, fluffy blankets and pillows, making it a perfect place for relaxation and rest.

• there's a dedicated space for physical fitness and wellness activities. this includes yoga mats, light weights, and an assortment of health and beauty products.

• they have a collection of vintage items and keepsakes from different eras. they include old-fashioned toys, games, and memorabilia that evoke nostalgia.

• they have a small fountain in the center of their cabin. the water has minor rejuvenating properties, offering a sense of refreshment and renewal to anyone who drinks from it.

cabin traditions

• every morning, they start their day with a refreshing drink of ambrosia-infused water. i headcanon that the infused water acts as caffeine for them.

• once a week, they host a game night featuring classic childhood games, like tag, hopscotch, and hide-and-seek.

• each member of the cabin dedicates one day each month to perform acts of kindness and service around the camp, helping to spread positive energy and support among fellow campers.

• they have a jar inside of their cabin where they can drop notes about happy moments or achievements. at the end of the summer, they read through the notes to reflect on their growth and experiences.

• regular arts and crafts sessions where they make bracelets, charms, and other small items symbolizing youth and vitality, often gifting these to other campers as tokens of friendship.

divider by @v6que

[farhanak03071987]

BMW Repair Dubai

If you're a proud owner of a BMW in Dubai, you understand the importance of keeping your luxury vehicle in top-notch condition. That's where The Mechanic Autos in Dubai comes to your rescue. With a reputation for excellence in BMW repair, our skilled technicians are dedicated to providing unparalleled service and maintenance for your beloved Bavarian machine.

At The Mechanic Autos, we specialize in all aspects of BMW repair, from routine maintenance to complex engine diagnostics and repairs. Our team of certified technicians is equipped with the latest tools and technology to ensure accurate and efficient servicing. Whether it's an oil change, brake repair, transmission service, or electrical system troubleshooting, we've got you covered.

We understand that your BMW is more than just a car; it's a symbol of prestige and performance. That's why we use only genuine BMW parts and follow manufacturer-recommended procedures to maintain the integrity of your vehicle. Our commitment to quality, reliability, and customer satisfaction has made us a trusted choice for BMW owners across Dubai.

When it comes to BMW repair Dubai , The Mechanic Autos is your go-to destination. Experience the difference in service and craftsmanship that sets us apart in the automotive industry. Trust your BMW to us, and we'll ensure it continues to perform at its best on the vibrant streets of Dubai.

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BMW Garage Dubai

Welcome to The Mechanic Auto Center, your premier destination for BMW maintenance and repair in Dubai. We take pride in being your trusted BMW garage, dedicated to delivering top-notch service to keep your ultimate driving machine in peak condition.

Our team of highly skilled and certified technicians specializes in BMW vehicles, ensuring that your car receives the care and attention it deserves. Whether you drive a BMW 3 Series, 5 Series, X5, or any other BMW model, we have the expertise and state-of-the-art equipment to handle all your maintenance and repair needs.

At The Mechanic Auto Center, we offer a wide range of BMW services, including routine maintenance such as oil changes, brake inspections, and tire rotations, to keep your BMW running smoothly. We also provide advanced diagnostics and repairs for complex issues, ensuring that your BMW performs at its best.

We understand the importance of using genuine BMW parts and accessories to maintain the integrity of your vehicle. That's why we source only the highest-quality BMW parts, guaranteeing the longevity and performance of your luxury car.

Customer satisfaction is our top priority, and we go the extra mile to ensure your experience with us is exceptional. From our friendly and knowledgeable staff to our transparent pricing and efficient service, we aim to make your visit to our BMW garage in Dubai a hassle-free and enjoyable one.

When you choose The Mechanic Auto Center for your BMW needs, you can trust that your vehicle is in capable hands. Experience the difference of a dedicated BMW garage dubai that prioritizes quality, precision, and customer satisfaction. Schedule your appointment with us today and let us keep your BMW running at its best in the vibrant city of Dubai.

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Car Repair Dubai

We specialize in an extensive range of luxury car repair & maintenance services in Dubai. Contact our top-notch car garage today for quick, reliable and value-for-money services.

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Car Repair Dubai

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Mount Rainier National Park Archives Photo of the Paradise Ranger Station with the park’s first naturalist, Ranger Floyd Schmoe, in the 1920s.

The Paradise Ranger Station was constructed in 1921 and was the first government-built structure of its kind at Mount Rainier. Built by the National Park Service in the Rustic style, its steeply pitched roof was designed to withstand the excessive amounts of snowfall at Paradise. The front has a full width 1-story stone porch accessed by stone steps, which descend directly onto the sidewalk. The NPS Rustic style uses native materials like wood and stone to minimize contrast from the natural setting. Shrubs and trees were also planted around the ranger station to better help it blend with the environment and not detract from the visitors’ experience of nature. The Paradise Ranger Station is part of the Mount Rainier Historic Landmark District.

NPS Photo of the ranger station in 1984 (left). Mount Rainier National Park Archives Photo courtesy Val Lou photo of the Paradise Ranger Station in the 1990s (right).

The first floor of the ranger station was originally used as an information and checking station, with living quarters in the second story. The information center has since moved to the Climbing Guide House behind the ranger station, but the Paradise Ranger Station still serves as office space for rangers today. Have you noticed this building when visiting Paradise?

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sunaosa week day 7: past / future

suna stands in the center of his living room, hands on his hips, surrounded by boxes. after a long and successful volleyball career, it’s time for him to hang up his court shoes, fold the compression sleeves, and frame the jerseys. his retirement press conference went without a hitch, and so did his farewell party with ejp. all that’s left is to pack up his apartment, and move everything to his new home with his husband in hyogo.

it's the start of a new chapter.

osamu is in the kitchen, carefully wrapping the glassware in newspaper and old copies of volleyball monthly. he straightens to stretch his back, suna watching out of the corner of his eye. “everything good over there?” he asks.

“yeah. where are ya gonna donate these?”

“probably the nearby restaurants. “i’ll bring the cups to ejp.” they were always short on coffee mugs in the lounge, and most of his are in good condition. “washio said he’ll take the pots and pans, komori will take the air fryer, and nagito wants the blender.” osamu insisted they’ll buy everything new for their kitchen, which is why most of it is being pawned off.

“i put the pots’n’pans in a box fer him. he can just take it whenever.”

suna nods, then surveys the living room. they’re taking his tv, but donating the coffee table, couch, porch chairs, and shelves. the books and pictures are already packed, accolades safely wrapped and sealed. the bathroom is packed too, towels tossed with his clothes, toiletries spent. all that’s left is his bedroom.

it’s surprisingly cluttered, despite how little he brought with him. leading up to his retirement, he donated most of his training gear, along with clothes that no longer fit. he prepares a box and starts going through his desk drawers, filled with old receipts, invoices, contracts, and documents. osamu joins him, recycling bin in hand. “thought ya might need this.”

“thanks.” suna inspects each piece of paper before tossing it, just in case. osamu continues to pack the clothes in another box, an effort that suna abandoned halfway for a change of pace. they work quietly, until–

“hey, rin. look at this.”

suna turns around. osamu has a wrinkled envelope in hand, his name addressed on the front. it’s sealed shut, so he fetches a pair of scissors from the kitchen to slice it open. “did ya write me a love letter at one point?”

“actually…”

inside are three folded pieces of paper. osamu stares at the first page – specifically, the date. “ya wrote this…five years ago?”

he nods, joining him on the floor. “yeah.”

“were ya gonna send it ta me, or…”

“i was, but…well, you know what happened.” although many of their friends call them high school sweethearts, they broke up when they were 21, were exes for three years, and then got back together on new year’s on the cusp of the fourth. the reasons for their separation sound amateurish now – they couldn’t handle the distance, they were chasing parallel dreams, they couldn’t, didn’t, wouldn’t make time for each other.

while they were separated, osamu opened three more onigiri miya locations; suna played in the olympics and overseas. osamu won awards for his food and service; suna became sponsored by top brands and corporations. osamu starred in documentaries and television shows; suna was featured in interviews and press conferences.

when they met again during the new year’s party organized by inarizaki alumni, both agreed that it made sense to try again, now that they were older, smarter, better. it led to an engagement. it led to marriage. it led to this.

a life together, walking down a singular path.

“i was in chicago, i think. i felt homesick after eating at a japanese restaurant because their onigiri…reminded me of you.” suna’s arm snakes around osamu’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder to read his own writing, shaky kanji after years of writing mostly english. “i missed you, but i couldn’t tell you, so i…wrote you a letter.”

he remembers that night vividly. his teammates took him there for his birthday, where all the dishes were recipes passed down through the owner’s family. as he ate, all he could think about was home, but what came to mind wasn’t aichi, hyogo, nor shizuoka. instead, it was osamu.

osamu, who would video call him for hours while working in the kitchen. osamu, who would reply to his memes or shitposts with equally cursed content. osamu, who would sleep shirtless so he could absorb suna’s body heat, even in the middle of winter.

when home is a person that you can’t have, what does home become?

osamu flips to the second page. the kanji is messier, strokes uneven, with increasing amounts of hiragana to substitute the characters that suna couldn’t remember how to write. he is quiet, eyes traveling across the lines, pensive. then, he reaches the last page, which only contains a few lines.

when i’m with you, i feel timeless, because my love for you is infinite, no matter the distance or time. i used to fear what the life without volleyball would look like, but i’m not afraid anymore, because i know that it’ll always be with you.

“rin.” a hand finds his, the slim silver band digging into his skin. suna looks into osamu’s eyes, the same as he did on their wedding day, and sees nothing but love in its depths, an endless pool constructed of memories between them, from the first day they met at inarizaki, to now, sitting on his floor among boxes, packing a past to bring into the future.

“i never told ya, but in all those years…i never stopped lovin’ ya, either.” his voice rumbles deep and tight, the telltale sign that he’s holding back tears. “i knew why we had ta do it, but…if i were more selfish, i woulda asked ta keep tryin’, an’ tryin’, an tryin’. yer worth all my effort.”

“i wish we were both more selfish,” suna murmurs. “but look. we made it.” he puts their hands together, matching bands gleaming in the light. “you’re a successful business owner. i had the best volleyball run of my life. and now, we have each other. we’ll always have each other.”

the letter falls as they kiss, enveloped in one another’s warmth. there is one part of the writing where the ink is smudged, paper slightly wrinkled, relics of tears shed for a lost love, now a witness to a love that is eternal, that will light their way through the unknown, that will guide them to a new life.

together.