#spare parts boat engine

[marinealfa24]

Overview of Various Useful Marine Diesel Engine Spares Parts

Marine diesel engines have several components. Even when components change design, their function stays the same. Each part has a purpose and placement. You probably already know something about them, especially if you’ve assembled them before. For some who previously understood, it would be a review; for others, it’s vital to know engine spare parts to grasp “marine diesel engine.” If you want more specifics, I propose “Marine Diesel Engine” by Nigel Calder. Continue Reading please visit us at:https://alfamarinespareparts.com/overview-of-various-useful-marine-diesel-engine-spares-parts/

[marinedieselspecialists]

Boat Bellows: What to Know

If you're a boat owner, then you know that proper maintenance is crucial to keep your vessel running smoothly. At Marine Diesel Specialists in South Florida, we explain how one important aspect of marine engine maintenance is ensuring that the bellows are in good working condition. But what exactly are bellows, and what role do they play in your boat's performance? As experts in the industry with years of experience in maintianing, servicing, and repairing motor engines, our team is happy to help. If you are interested in our insights into this subject, click the link below to learn more.

[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love

Love and relationships can't be forced but sometimes they can be built on common ground and an understanding of one another's tribulations.

Part 2 here

Donatello x Reader

Having a crush on someone sucks. Having a crush on someone who has eyes for someone else sucks even more. This is the sad truth of your current circumstances. You knew that high school would come with its challenges but you weren’t prepared for the fact that you’d fall for the careless, hockey-loving maniac from your math class. It began with a casual friendship before feelings deepened on your end. Feelings that wouldn’t seem so terrible were it not for April O’Neil. You have absolutely nothing against the girl but it’s clear as day that she unfortunately has Casey’s heart in her stronghold. It’s not like you could even vent these frustrations, given that the only friends you have happen to be those two people. 

Then, through some shenanigans that seem like the norm for you now, you meet four turtle brothers - one of whom is in the same boat as you. Not to mention, between the very two friends in question. Were it not heartbreaking to witness each other trying your hardest to grab the attention of your crushes, you’d find some humour in this.

You tried hanging out with Raphael more in an attempt to get in close quarters with Casey, seeing as they’re practically tied at the hip, only for you to realise that the rough-and-tumble environment isn’t your strong suit. That’s when they both suggested you try your hand at assisting Donatello in his laboratory given your aptitude for the sciences. What they failed to realise is that you do well in class but that doesn’t inherently mean you enjoy it. Theoretical sciences and learning about how things work are interesting but there aren’t enough practical applications that allow you to engage in the school environment. The closest you’ve gotten to having fun was when you made “elephant toothpaste” for a chemistry lesson but that’s about it. 

Nonetheless, you see no harm in passing by the lab and giving the brainiac brothers a visit. Other than your not-so-subtle pining towards the other humans in the group, nothing has been outwardly mentioned about the situation you are both in. Neither of you has hung out enough to have that conversation. It wouldn’t be weird to talk about it, would it? A query that shall not yet receive an answer seeing as you’ve already knocked on the large, metal door. You walk through the open garage to see a couple of legs poking out from under the battle shell. 

“Huh? Oh! (Y/n), sorry- Ow!” He slides out from beneath the vehicle and rubs the fresh bruise forming on his head. “Sorry, I’m a little busy, right now. I think Leo is watching Space Heroes if you’re looking for someone to hang out with, though.”

“Actually, I came by to see if you needed any help,” you offer, holding your hands behind your back respectfully whilst also trying not to laugh. 

His eyes widen, having not expected such a proposal, and he’s quick to scramble to his feet.  “Oh, okay! Let’s see- uh… how are you with engine repairs?”

“Depends.” Your tongue clicks contemplatively. “Is it gas, electric, or hybrid?”

“That already tells me you know more than enough,” he chuckles. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He opens the hood of the van to reveal the ensemble of burnt-out parts and overworked mechanisms. The guys’ last mission must have been intense because this engine is almost in complete disarray. Were it not for the fact that your Uncle is a mechanic, you’d be sweating under the pressure of somehow ruining this heap of metal more than it already is. A probability still if you want to jinx your person but that’s getting ahead of yourself. 

Donatello gestures towards a box of spare parts and holds the back of his neck. “These just need to be taken out and replaced. It’s probably the easiest of what needs doing but I also need to finish rewiring the brakes, check the throttle calibration, replenish the weapons ammunition-”

“You need an extra set of hands to get it done quicker,” you cut him off with a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

He bares a gap-toothed smile in response and nods before resuming his initial position beneath the vehicle to finish the brake wiring. This leaves you to begin on your assigned job. For starters, you’re glad that this is a case of piecemeal repair rather than a complete engine rebuild. You’d be out of your depth were that the case. You start by pulling the entire engine out via a hoist, assisted by a load levelling bar so that it doesn’t tilt at a funny angle. Then, you secure it onto a stand and glance over what you’re working with. The crankshaft, piston ring compressor, oil filter, and fan need the most attention, so you start with those first. Just to save the disturbance, you look into a few tutorials on your phone to make sure you’re doing it correctly. 

During this entire time, the two of you work on separate parts of the battle shell in silence, seemingly content with your tasks. By now, Donnie has moved on to tightening the wheels’ lug holes. Admittedly, you had been concerned about a lack of things to talk about but this is a nice settlement. It’s certainly the most relaxed you’ve felt in a while; something to keep you distracted from the quelling of your hopeless romantic attraction. Plus, you have this sense of relief from finally being able to work on something with your hands rather than straining your brain over textbooks and pop quizzes.

"Question,” he starts abruptly, keeping his eyes on the centre cap of the wheel. “What’s it you like so much about that cave mouth?"

First, you blink quickly to yourself, having not expected to get into the nitty gritty of it so soon. So much for being distracted but you can’t be mad. Curiosity isn’t something to be berated. Then, you find yourself snickering at the mildly degrading nickname. The question may appear brash but he’s puzzled by why April seems to like Casey so much. Hearing it from you might give him the insight he needs to turn the odds in his favour. He’ll take anything at this point. 

"I dunno. There's just this air to him that I like. He's an ass, I am well aware of that, but he's fun, you know?” you admit awkwardly. “Psh! Don't ask me to explain it. You can't really put that stuff into words." You squint down at him, lips poised mockingly. "What is it you like about April so much?"

He halts his own task and glances down at his hands, cheeks reddening as he thinks about the girl of his dreams. "She just... had my heart from the first moment I saw her."

"Wow. The first girl you ever see in your life and it's just like that.” Yes, that bit of information is known thanks to our dear Raphael. “'Pretty shallow to fall in love with someone based on looks if you ask me." 

"You would know,” he scoffs sarcastically.

"Now you're calling Casey ugly?” you ask, both playful and moderately offended on your crush’s behalf. “Man, you really don't like him."

"I’m sure the same goes for you with April!"

"Hey! I don't stoop so low into my dissatisfaction of the circumstances to insult her." A wry grin then beckons your lips. "Although~"

"Whatever you think you're going to say, don't."

The staring match doesn't last long, breaking beneath a shared laugh; fond and unwilted by the ache in your hearts, which has been forgotten for a split moment to enjoy each other's company.

From that point on, that’s precisely what you did. More often than not, you found yourself in the confines of his garage, assisting him with the occasional doohickey and thingymabob. Even if there wasn’t much you could help with, you wound up being a decent lab partner in any case. In turn, he would offer to help you with your homework if you had any particularly difficult assignments. Your grades have never looked so good. When neither of you were doing that, you’d simply hang out and rant about little annoyances with your unreciprocated infatuations. 

“I mean, I try some jokes here and there but nothing seems to land,” he concedes begrudgingly, throwing his body weight into the back of his chair.

“Can I hear one?” you inquire as you gently swing around in your own seat. 

His lips press together and he mulls it over before sighing, “Okay, so, you remember how I told you about Metal Head?” You nod, to which he continues, “Well, the first time I took him out for a spin, we were on watch duty together. That’s when I asked her if she likes metal.”

He groans to himself as he replays the memory in his head, only now realising how corny that must have sounded at the time. However, you laugh and not the heckling kind either. Your head tilts back into your chair, knees lifting to compensate for the tension in your shaking stomach. How could April have not loved something as precious as that? The girl must be crazy because that would have worked on you in a heartbeat. 

“You should’ve asked if her favourite dance move is the robot,” you say in between laughs. “No, wait, wait! I got a better one! Ask her out to the circuits for a date!”

Donatello can only smile at your self-induced amusement, happy that there’s an appreciation for nerdy pickup lines and puns. They may not work on his crush - and his brothers sure don’t find them that funny - but he’s glad at least one person around here gets it. 

It felt good to know that you had a friend you could be closer to because of your mutual understanding. For the first time since you realised your feelings for your schoolmate, you didn’t feel so alone. This bond formed on cluttered affection may have seemed unlikely to begin with but who are you to complain now? You and Donnie have a good thing going given your positions. 

That is until your heart diverts its attention towards the very turtle. 

You came to the realisation when he expressed his excitement in showing you his newest invention. The fact that he had called upon you first made you feel special. It made you feel wanted and desired for the first time in your life. A seemingly small phenomenon given how he merely wanted to showcase something to you but the way it had tugged your heart was unparalleled to anything else you had ever experienced - and that smile. You could have happily fawned over that proud grin of proclaimed accomplishment and self-justified pride for the rest of that day. Then, it all came crashing down on you like heaps of scrap in a junkyard. You have fallen for someone who is in love with April. Again. Are you just doomed to fall for any man that crushes this girl? This must be some sick joke. One that you don’t find yourself laughing at. 

It eats away at you for the days - weeks - to come. You can’t console anyone on the matter, either. If any of his family catches wind, there’s a chance of him finding out. An outcome you wish to avoid if possible. As for Casey and April, dear lord you don’t even want to know what would happen if you told them. You’re at square one again just as before: crushing on someone who will never feel the same way about you. Rotting in a pool of your self-made disillusion.

Alone.

Having a crush on someone sucks.

[noraantilles]

The Right Shelter

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x f!reader (y/n)

Summary: After getting in trouble, Rafe tried to hide from the police. He stumbled onto a random boat which turned out to be Y/Ns. You and Rafe got stuck on the sea and after a long time of not seeing each other, there were some things that you had never been able to tell each other, since now.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Friends to lovers, Kidnapping, Violent Behaviour, Fingering, pet names, Swearing, Use of Weapons (gun)

MINORS DNI, 18+ content❗️

Word count: 5.7k words

POV: Y/N and Rafe were very close friends when they were in high school. They went to school together and hung out a lot. When they graduated, they slowly started to lose contact, even though none of them intended to break it. They grew apart. Both had feelings for each other, though the other one didn’t know that. Nothing ever happened between the two of them.

Y/N is part of a wealthy family. After graduation, her parents decided to fulfill her wish. She got her own home just for herself. A little yacht, to be independent, mobile, and happy. Y/N is already living on that boat for a year. She loves her home and has everything she needs. A bedroom big enough for two people. A small kitchen, with a tiny living area and a bathroom. Her guitar gives her the most joy and she plays every day.

———————————————————————

Today she just came home from her grocery and spare parts shopping tour. The engine of her boat seems to be a little funny from time to time so she decided to fix that before she leaves the mainland again. In a good mood, she unpacks her groceries and puts them in the places where they belong, when she suddenly hears a noise on deck. She was startled, but before she could look to see where the noise was coming from, a young man rushed into her apartment.

You froze in place, when you noticed the gun, pointed directly at you. The moment your eyes met his, your heart stumbled. You haven’t seen him in a long time, and this was surely not what you expected when you thought about meeting him again. “Rafe?” you said calmly.

He was frozen too. Every boat he could have picked, and he picked yours. Yours of all things. He was uncertain of what he should do next. The fact that he was pointing a gun at you, made him feel sick. For a short moment, he tried to lower his gun before he remembered why he was there. His hands stiffened around the trunk of his pistole. “Ship us out of here.”, he demanded urgently.

You were still frozen in place because you couldn’t comprehend what was happening to you. What was happening to him. You wanted to tell him, that your boat wasn’t ready to ship out now due to your damaged engine, but you couldn’t say a word. “Now!” Rafe added loudly after your non-responsive behavior. You flinched at his sudden yell, turned around, and climbed up the ladder to your cockpit. Him right behind you. You pushed some buttons and the boat slowly started to move out of the bay. You did not dare to turn around while you maneuvered yourselves through the banks. After a couple of minutes, you entered the open ocean when you heard your engine breaking down again. “No no no,” you mumbled worried. “What is it?” Rafe’s rough words made you tense again.

“I-“ you paused.

“What?”

“I wanted to tell you from the beginning that it wasn’t a good idea to depart now because my engine has some kind of a malfunction.”

“What do you mean?”

“It breaks down from time to time. I don’t know when or if it is going to start up again.” You turned around to face him. The gun wasn’t pointed at you anymore. He had already lowered it minutes ago. His view went out of the window. He couldn’t look at you. Not after what he had done to you. After a short time of silence, you finally gained the courage to break it. “What happened?” you asked worriedly. He exhaled sharply. “That’s none of your fucking business.” And without looking at you again, he opened the door behind him and went on deck.

You took a deep breath before you climbed down the ladder to your living area. What are you supposed to do now? You are on the open sea, with an old friend that seems to be in a hell of trouble, that he goes so far as to point a gun at you. And of course, there is the damaged engine. Your look went to your still halfway-packed grocery bag. You are lucky that you bought enough food to fill your storage completely. Otherwise, it would have been super critical. Maybe you could try to fix your engine. Even though it is gonna take some time. You sighed. Well, there wasn’t anything else to do in this situation. You and him are stuck here. If you’d like it or not.

You took two glasses out of your cupboard and filled it with water. Then you stepped out on deck, into the sun. Rafe was sitting at the lower edge of your yacht his legs over the edge so that he could watch the ocean surface. It also was the only place where you had a little shadow. His gun was set right next to him on his left. You climbed up the few steps, walked over, and passed him the glass. With a questioning glance, he looked at the glass. “Come on, take it. You need to stay hydrated.” With a little hesitation, he took the glass from you and immediately took a sip. You sat yourself down next to him with your own glass.

The two of you just sat there in silence before you decided to tell him your plan. “I’m going to try to fix the engine. I’m pretty sure this is gonna take some time, but we have enough food and water for about two or three weeks. … I could also call the Coast Guard to come and get us, but I assume that doesn’t lay in your interest.” You took a break to look at him. He just stared into his glass without saying a word. “So, I am not gonna do that.” You took a short glance at your watch to check the time. It was already 7 pm and you felt your stomach asking for some food. “Wow, it is getting late. I’m gonna make us some dinner.” You said before standing up and disappearing into the kitchen.

You took a bit of time, but you returned with two plates of mac and cheese. Rafe switched his position in the meanwhile so that he was able to lean against the wall of the boat. “Here you go,” you said as you passed him the plate. A soft “thanks” escaped his lips. You sat yourself across from him. “Mac and Cheese?”, he mumbled without looking at you. You smiled. “Was your favorite back then, wasn’t it?” He nodded. “Is still my favorite.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Hope you like it.” You sat there and ate enjoying the silence, listening to the light roar of the ocean, and watching the sun slowly disappear at the horizon. While you were sitting there your thoughts wandered back to some old memories you had with Rafe.

When you were both 15, Rafe and you hung out a lot after school at your place. And your mom used to make mac and cheese for the two of you. You always did your homework together and then went out till it was dark to watch the sundown. It was literally the best time of your life. “Your mom used to make the best mac and cheese.” Rafe broke the silence while watching the sun go down. You smiled. He had the same thought as you. “Yours is pretty good too by the way. Tastes almost like your mom's.” “Thanks.” you smiled. You sighed satisfied. “It’s crazy how the time passes by, don’t you think? Feels like we were 15 yesterday.” He nodded. “True.”

You took a moment. “What do you think how many sundowns have we watched in our lives together?” “435. With this, 436,” he answered. You frowned smilingly, looking at him. “You counted them?”

“I did.”

“Wow, 436 then.” You dived back into your memories and started to giggle. "Do you remember the moment when I used to prank Topper in school and he got super mad, so you covered for me. And then when we were at my place at the landing stage later that day, eating our sandwiches, he was looking for you. When he found us, he just yelled, you stood up and tried to calm him down, saying it was a joke and then he just pushed you right off the stage into the water. I was so perplexed that I stood up and told him that it wasn’t you but me. So, he took me and threw me right after you. Then he stole our sandwiches and ran off. We were both mad, not about the fact that he threw us into the water but-"

”That he stole our sandwiches.“ Rafe finished the sentence. ”To this day I do not forgive him that. These sandwiches were so delicious.“ You both laughed. ”Are you still friends with Topper?“

“Yeah, sort of. We hang out every now and then. But this little shithead started getting on my nerves when he started dating my sister.”

“Really? How is Sarah?”

“She’s doing fine. But that was a while ago. Now she’s hanging out with those Pogues.”

“You never liked them.” “I never liked them.” He started smiling when he realized you finished his sentence. “But what about you? What did you do after graduation?”

“Well, that’s a long story. I went to the mainland and toured around for a bit. I didn’t want to go to college.”

“Yeah, me neither. But my dad wanted me to go. Didn’t go that well as you can see.” You nodded. “This boat is yours, isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The way the living room is decorated, with those tiny LEDs and the guitar on the wall. We bought it on the market together when we were on the mainland, remember? You said you would love to have it, but you weren’t sure and then I bought it for you.”

“That’s right.” You said smiling at him. It was the first time that evening that he looked at you again. Looked at you like he did 2 years ago. You missed him. Gosh, you missed him so badly. His smile, his little laugh, and just being around him made you feel so much joy. The fact that he remembered all these things you guys did in the past. Hell, he even knows how many sundowns you have watched together. How adorable is that? And now you regret losing him as a friend even more. You could see how his face changed when he sunk back into his thoughts.

He felt absolutely terrible about how he ended up here. Guilty, of stealing your time, your water, and your supplies. He never wanted to be a burden, especially not with you. He pulled you into his trouble even though all he ever wanted was to protect you. After college and what had happened there, he decided to stay away from you on purpose. He knew that he had changed but there wasn’t anything that he could do about it. The only thing he wanted you to be is safe, even if that means to love you from afar. You, the only person that never judged him for his actions. And now, he had pointed a gun at you forcing you to follow his orders. Frightening you. But still, you didn’t judge him. Brought him water and hell, you even cooked him his favorite dish. He felt guilty.

The hours passed by and as it was getting late you decided it was time to go to bed. Rafe insisted on sleeping on deck under the stars. You have never seen him so sure about anything. So, you let him. You brought him a pillow and a blanket and went down to your bedroom.

As you were laying in bed, your mind wandered around the things that happened today. You were so happy to finally see him again, to be able to talk to him, but you were also worried. Worried about what he had done that pushed him so far to run around with a gun. If you were someone else, you’d probably be held hostage by him. Before that day, you would have never imagined HIM to point a gun at someone. Rationally, you should classify this situation as dangerous. Classify him as dangerous. But it was Rafe, your high school best friend. You knew him, right? Or didn’t you?

The next morning you woke up at 10 o’clock. It didn’t take you long to remember what had happened, so you stood up, got ready, and got on deck to check up on him. He was lying there in the sun, blanket wide open, sleeping peacefully.

Good, you thought. It was probably super hard to fall asleep, so you decided not to wake him. Meanwhile, you started to look after the engine. With those extra parts you bought, you really hoped that you could fix it. You sat there for two hours with your instruction manual staring at the engine of your boat, trying to understand where that specific part you were looking for sat. Unsuccessfully, so you decided to take a break. When you passed by the rear of the boat you noticed that Rafe was starting to wake up. “Good morning!” You greeted him. “Are you hungry? I could make us some eggs and bacon.” He groaned. “What time is it?”

“1 pm.” You stated. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He mumbled while sitting up.

“You looked like you really needed that sleep.” He didn’t respond so you went under deck to prepare breakfast. As it was getting hotter outside you decided to call him in when breakfast was ready. With a thankful look on his face, he sat down while you served breakfast. “How did you sleep out there?” You asked. “It was alright. My back hurts just a little,” he stated while enjoying his eggs and bacon. “I tried to work on the engine this morning, but it seems like I need another pair of eyes to help me look. Do you mind giving me a hand later?”

“Sure, I can help you.” he smiled.

After finishing breakfast and doing the dishes, you and Rafe went outside to take a look at the engine. A little confused you showed him the instruction paper. “Here, I think this is what we are looking for. It says that this vent is responsible for the dysfunction, but I cannot find the vent at all.” He skimmed the manual and took a look at the engine. “It has to be right here,” he said after examining the surface. “Maybe it is inside, and that’s the reason why we cannot find it. The vent was made to reduce overheating, wasn’t it?” You nodded, “That’s what it says.” “So, the reason why your engine breaks down sometimes is because it is overheating. No wonder, it is freakin hot today.”

“It is and that’s why I am gonna get us something to drink, I’ll be right back.” You jumped up, went under the deck, got two ice-cold lemonades, and went back up again. Rafe who was still supervising the engine got rid of his t-shirt. You couldn’t help but take a look before you passed him his drink. “Thanks.” he smiled. “I think we should leave the flap open so that it can cool down. The heat builds up in there and has no way to escape. Maybe this helps.” “Alright then,” you said while you toast to him. You both took a sip. “Hey, uhm do you wanna take a swim?” Rafe asked after a while. “A swim? Sure, why not.” You grinned. I’m just gonna go change into swimwear real quick, alright?”

“Sure, take your time.”

After changing up, Rafe was already observing the water from afar. He was just in his Boxers. He stood on the adjustable part of the rear, which was made to facilitate entry into the water. You approached him slowly. “How is the water?”

“It’s cold,” he answered briefly. But something was off. You knew what he sounded like when he planned something. “You are not going to push me into the water, promise me,” you said daringly. He smiled slyly. “Of course not.” You climbed down to the board on which he stood and dipped your foot into the water to test out the temperature. “Damn, it is cold. Are you sure, you wanna take a swim?” But before you could wait for a response, an arm wrapped around your waist and before you knew it, Rafe had already pulled you into the cold water.

You squealed. When you reached the surface again you immediately pushed a wave of water in his direction. “Rafe,” you complained while he was trying to avoid the water you were pushing in his direction. “You promised not to push me, what the fuck?” He smiled while he was trying to reach you to stop you from throwing more water right into his face. As soon as he reached you, he grabbed your arm with one hand and wrapped his other hand around your waist so that you didn’t sink. The warmth of his body made you shiver.

“I just said that I won’t push you, which I technically didn’t do.” You punched his shoulder, while he floated you to the board on which you stood. “Pulling me in is kinda the same thing you idiot.” “Oh, I am the idiot? Who was afraid that the water would be too cold, you little coward?” You punched him again. “Hey, punching your friends is not nice, who thought you manners?” He grinned. “The same woman who makes the best mac and cheese,” you stated slyly. “Alright, alright I forgive her.” he laughed, before letting go of you.

The two of you spent some time playing around in the water, chatting about old stories, and after that found yourselves warming up on deck in the sun.

It was getting late and after you pulled on a light summer dress, you two made dinner together. It almost felt like there was never a break between you. It was just like it was back then. After you two ate dinner, you decided to put on some music and watch the sundown. “437,” you said with a big smile on your face. Rafe nodded in agreement. You both went silent like you always did when watching the sundowns. “Hey Rafe.”, you said thoughtfully. “Hm?”

“When this is over, can we still be … friends?” He looked at you. “I don’t know.”, he stated. Your heart broke at his words. You just had him back. You were not ready to lose him again. Otherwise, you didn’t know about anything that’s been going on for the last two years. “Why not?” you said calmly because you didn’t want to pressure him. He did not respond. Rafe wanted to tell you what was going on, but he feared you’d judge him. He knew you would never judge him, but this time he wasn’t sure. When the police would get him, you could be assigned as his accomplice. He could not let that happen.

You kinda knew what he was thinking about. His face told you everything. “Rafe, whatever it is that you have done, you know that I would never judge you.” Without answering he stood up. He was an open book to you even without talking about it and he knew that now. “I’m going to take a piss.”, he said before disappearing under deck. You stood up and followed him. With your arms crossed you leaned against the kitchen counter while he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Jesus.”, he mumbled as he did not expect you to stand right there. “Please Rafe, tell me what happened, after all of this don’t you think I deserve to know?” He started walking up and down to calm himself. “You don’t understand Y/N, I cannot tell you.” He really tried his best to calm down but the more you asked the more pressure you put on him. “Yes, you can.” you tried further desperately. That was enough for him. Immediately, he made three steps in your direction, grabbed you by the throat, and pushed you roughly against the counter.

Your breath hitched and you instantly grabbed his wrist. “You don’t know nothing Y/N,” he yelled angrily. “Everything I’d tell you would put YOU in danger. Even being here with YOU puts you in danger. What I have done cannot be undone. Do you understand that?” You saw the tears building up in his eyes as you watched him. “I’m sorry!” you whispered to calm the situation down. After a short minute during which he realized that he was choking you, he let go and got on deck.

You stood there. Frozen in place. You have never seen him like this before. So much anger that he tends to violent behavior, scared you. But you kinda asked for it, putting him under pressure. For your luck, he didn’t squeeze so hard that you couldn’t breathe. It was more like a tight grip to shut you up. And it worked. You didn’t know what else to say. You stayed under the deck for an hour to give him some space and to clear your head.

After that when the sun had already disappeared, you dared to take a step outside. He was sitting in his spot staring at the surface of the water. You slowly sat yourself next to him. You were the first one to say something. “I’m sorry for pressuring you. You’re right, I don’t know anything about what has been going on in your life for the past two years and I am also sorry for that. I wished we had never broken off contact. Letting you go as a friend, was probably the hardest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. And I need to respect your decision. If you don’t want to be friends with me, that’s fine. As long as you’re okay.” you explained.

His gaze went up to meet yours. Everything you said to him, was the same way he felt about you. He just wanted you to be okay. To be safe. He took a moment before he felt ready to respond. “When I came home from college, you know what the first thing was that I did?” You shook your head. “I drove by your house because I wanted to see you. You were there, in the garden, playing chess with your dad. I wanted to say hello. Tell you that I’m back. That I dropped out of college.” he paused.

“But I didn’t. College fucked me up pretty badly. Everything I could think about when I was there was that I missed you. I was so scared that we would grow apart in such a long time. That when we will meet again, we won’t know each other anymore. So, I started drinking. Day and night, till they kicked me out. And you know what? I was happy. I was so happy to go home, to finally see you again. But when I saw you, sitting there with your dad, playing chess you looked happy. You looked like you moved on. Left every worry behind. I didn’t want to destroy that just because you could do what I couldn’t. So, I left. I tried to talk myself into believing, that as long as you are happy, I could be too.”

A tear ran down your cheek, as you listened to his side of the story. And then you started to get mad. Mad because he was wrong. Mad at yourself because you never visited him after hearing he was back. You wanted to, so many times, but you also thought he moved on because he didn’t come to visit you after his arrival. This hurts you in so many ways. “So, did it work? … Could you be happy?” you said quietly because you knew that if you said it louder, he could’ve heard that you were crying.

“No.”, he stated, looking across the shimmering ocean. The moon had risen and gave some light. “Me neither,” you confessed as you looked at him. The next thing you said wasn’t really well thought through, but you needed to get it off your chest. “I never stopped loving you, Rafe,” you said as you observed his reaction. His gaze met yours as he turned his head to face you. Certainly, he did not expect to hear something like that from anyone. Especially not from you. And to make sure, that he got everything you said right you repeated it slowly. “I love you, Rafe Cameron.”

That was everything he needed to hear before he pushed himself forward to close the gap. His hands wandered along your neck to pull you in for a kiss. He brushes his lips against yours slowly before intensifying his motion to kiss you deeply. The way his lips are moving against yours, made your stomach tumble. Every brush against your skin made you feel absolute ecstasy. His touch was so soft that it made it impossible to think about anything except how much you wanted this. How much you wanted him. After what felt like an eternity, you both needed some time to breathe again. He did not pull away though. He kept you as close as he could to remember the way you made him feel.

You smiled as your gaze went up to look at him again. He smiled back so softly that you believed your heart could melt at any time. Your hand went up to cup his face brushing gently over his cheek. “I missed you so much, you know. I can’t even describe it properly.” You stated while continuing to admire him. “I know. I feel the same way.” He answered. “We should have never broken off contact.” You nodded.

You stayed and sat there for a little while longer before you both decided that it would be best to get some sleep.

He laid back down as you were ready to go underdeck. “What are you doing?” you asked amused which caused him to startle a bit. Confused he turned around to face you. “You’re not sleeping on deck again, silly. My bedroom is big enough for two people.”

“Are you sure?”, he asked. “Yes, and I insist, so …” You made a motion that invited him to follow you. He slowly stood up and followed you into your little bedroom. Nearly the whole room was made out of bed. Just a little dresser was squeezed into the corner. You had already changed into your nightgown which was just an oversized t-shirt and panties. He got rid of his shirt and his pants which left him in his boxers before falling into the bed. A small sigh left him as he appreciated the comfiness of your bed. “Better than to sleep on the ground, isn’t it?” He nodded. His eyes kept shut.

You laid down on your side so that you could watch him for a while and just a couple of minutes later his breathing calmed down so that you knew he had fallen asleep. Rafe was exhausted. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the nights before because of the thoughts that haunted him all night. But right now, he finally had the chance to experience some peace. Here. By your side. You sighed quietly while letting yourself roll onto your back. It was quite welcome for you to not be alone here for once, so you followed Rafe's example to shut your eyes and doze off into your world of dreams.

In the middle of the night, a jolt went through your body, so you immediately startled up. Since you started to live on a boat you began to dream of heavy thunderstorms on the sea. It happened on a regular basis so that you had gotten used to getting torn from your sleep. You looked to your right where you found Rafe sleeping calmly as a cucumber.

You decided to get up to go grab a glass of water. The moon was shining through the windows and illuminated the room just so you were able to leave to light off. You grabbed a glass of water, took a big sip, and decided, before going back to bed, to take a look outside. As you stepped on deck the moon greeted you with its bright round shape. There was not one cloud so that a wonderful starry sky presented itself. You took another sip as you enjoyed the gorgeous view. In the far, you could also see the lights of the outer banks.

Sooner or later you and Rafe had to go back. And when that happened it was likely that you both wouldn’t see each other again. You hated that thought but there was nothing you could do about it. You decided to take a last sip before disappearing into the kitchen again. As you walked down the stairs you didn’t notice the dark figure leaning against the fridge. You set down your glass when you suddenly felt warm breathing on the side of your neck.

Startled, you immediately turned around. Rafe was standing right in front of you, so close that you could now feel his breathing on your face. “Rafe?”, you whispered uneasy while your hands tried to get a grip on the kitchen counter. He stayed silent, as he watched you press yourself against the counter while trying to comprehend what was happening to you. But he gave you no time as he stepped closer so that there was no space left anymore.

Your breathing accelerated as you looked up into his eyes. You couldn’t see much but you felt his gaze on you. What was happening to you? He leaned forward, grabbed your neck carefully, and tilted it slightly to the side so that he could gain access to your now-exposed skin. Your eyes went shut as you took in the gently placed kisses Rafe put alongside your neck.

A soft moan escaped your lips as your mouth opened slightly. The feeling he gave you was immaculate. Your hand went up to grab his shoulder for better hold because your legs got too wobbly to stand on your own. Luckily, he had already supported your waist with his other hand when he approached you earlier.

As another moan escaped you, Rafe became more desperate. Your sweet sounds turned him on even more than he had imagined it. A little rough, he pulled back your head to look at you again. This time you could see his face as the moonshine just seemed to flash at the right time. His eyes pierced into yours, desperate, and hungry for more. A rush of adrenaline went through your body. This feeling was something else. Seeing him hovering over you made you absolutely feral for him.

You couldn’t wait anymore. You needed him to do something. Anything. So, you dug your fingers deep into his shoulder. He groaned before a mischievous grin spread across his face. “That’s my girl!” he said quietly. Butterflies formed in your stomach as you did not expect a praise like that but before you could respond he pulled you off the counter, picked you up, and carried you straight to the bedroom.

Once there he let you fall onto the bed, immediately climbed over you, and pushed you down with a firm grip against your throat. He lowered himself to finally kiss you like you had desired it for what felt like an eternity. His other hand started to wander between your thighs. You twitched in arousal as he reached your sweet spot, so he pushed your pantie to the side for better control.

He circled around your clit in a calm motion. He knew what he was doing that was for sure. You moaned as he brought you to the edge of pleasure way sooner than you thought. Right before you hit your orgasm he stopped. “No, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, losing that delicate feeling again that had built up. “We are not finished yet, beautiful!” He leaned back and pulled you free of your left-on underwear.

“Fuck!” he stated at the sight of you. “You have no idea how fuckin hot you are!” You smiled as you lifted your foot to caress his inner thigh. He grinned as his view followed the motion of your foot. “Okay, maybe you do.” He leaned forward, freed himself from his boxer, and hovered back over you. This time he grabbed your hands to pin them down over your head before positioning himself. When he slid in, you moaned. He filled you out so perfectly.

He groaned after he slowly started moving. The grip around your wrists tightened and you could see how his muscles defined even more. This truly was an eyesight for itself. Your mouth fell open again without you even noticing. Rafes look was focused on his cock slamming inside you repeatedly with a rising pace. His other hand gripping your waist. “Fuck Rafe I am gonna cum.” His gaze went up to look at you again. This was what gave you the rest to push you over the edge. Your orgasm spread through the whole body as your head fell back onto the bed. Rafe groaned as he came right after you. With some last thrusts, he collapsed beside you. Both panting you enjoyed the inner peace that had formed.

“That was-, …”, you started “Amazing?!”

“Yeah.” You laughed. “Better than I would have ever imagined it.”

Rafe nodded in agreement before you both got quiet again.

You could feel how you got sleepy again and while thinking about how happy it made you to have him here, your worries came back. Right now, you knew that you would not be able to accept being away from him again. Whatever had happened to him, whatever he did, you had to help him. No matter what it would cost you. You always got what you wanted.

And you wanted him!

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Honey-Do

You swore if you scrubbed anymore, you were sure the paint would come off as you took a step back from your car to admire just how sparkly clean you made it.

Ever since Vance let you know that Jethro was arrested for assault and being kept at the Navy jails, you did what you could to cope, which included cleaning, fixing, and rearranging just about everything in the house, with the exception of the basement of course. You decided to take some "time off" to be there for Jethro.

After he came home with his new furry friend and Vance officially suspended him, the both of you have had quite a bit of time together which was quite nice in the beginning but there was only so much the two of you could do in a day. The both of you were so use to being workaholics, it almost felt weird to spend practically every hour of the day together.

This morning Jethro left to pick up some boat part and most likely get breakfast at the diner in order to stretch out the hours of being occupied. You had already went for a 2 mile run, planted some tomatoes in the back garden and bought Lucy a cute new sweater that looked much better than her bandages.

After putting all of the car cleaning supplies away, you headed inside to take a shower and make a little something to eat.

As you and Lucy shared some eggs and bacon at the dining room table, you heard Jethro come through the front door, holding a hunk of metal and cup of coffee.

Lucy's tail gave a wag as he came over, stealing a piece of bacon and giving you a peck on the lips.

"Car looks clean," he complimented as you smiled.

"Just finished. Maybe I can clean your truck up too today. Lord knows it's in need of some TLC."

He went to fill his cup of coffee, stopping to look at the long list of things to do around the house, that was stuck to the fridge, each one crossed out or checked off.

"I thought we said we would do these things equally?"

"Well you've been gone all morning and I...might've gotten bored."

He let out a sigh that told you he was feeling some type of way.

"Well now what am I suppose to do?"

"Well you got a new piece for the boat, why not work on that?"

"Because I'm still waiting on the other material to come back in stock. There was a lot of things on this list, honey, you could've at least saved me one thing."

You didn't really know what to say as he filled him coffee and silently left for the basement, taking Lucy with him.

"Little traitor," you mumbled towards the grey pittie.

For the next few minutes, you just sat there, appetite now gone, thinking about what Jethro said. You could understand why he was frustrated. Just like you, he needed to do things to keep him occupied, to keep his thoughts from consuming him whenever he got a spare moment of time to relax, especially now that he was suspended.

Knowing you should make it up to him, you emptied your leftovers into Lucy's bowl and washed your dishes before grabbing the to-do list and starting a new one. You'd be lying if you said you didn't purposefully make some of the tasks available, such as putting a nice size scratch in the floor, taking one of the screws from the table chair and throwing it out, and even deflating one of your tires just a little so that it was noticeable.

Once all of that was done and the list was newly made, you headed down into the basement, seeing Jethro in his mechanic jumpsuit, working on the engine. His face was hard, focusing on whatever it was he was doing as Lucy lied down on the big comforter beside him.

"Sweetheart," you started, getting him to take a second to stop and look at you. "I'm sorry about the list, I know how much you need the tasks and I didn't think about that."

A couple seconds went by as he stared at you before a small smile graced his lips, pulling you over to sit on his lap, letting the wrench sit atop of the engine block.

"You don't need to apologize for anything. I shouldn't have gotten frustrated."

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you pulled the piece of paper out.

"Well as a piece offering, I've made a new list for you. With tasks that I know only you can get done."

He read the paper out loud, chuckling a little when he reached the make Lucy a dog house part and held you a little tighter in his arms.

"The deflated tire is definitely a big deal, I'll have to start with that one," he said, a look of excitement twinkling in his eye, happy that he had newfound projects.

Smiling at him, you leaned in for a makeup kiss, even though you wouldn't even really consider the whole event as a "fight".

"You know. There are other ways we can keep busy that doesn't include home improvement and boat parts," you hinted, pulling back and giving him a look.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" He knew exactly what you meant by the spark of mischief you saw in his eyes. Standing up, you took his hand and led him away from the dirty boat parts, as he followed willingly.

[bad268]

Could u write a princess of Monaco and Arthur lecrelc , I see this being written so much for Charles and none for Arthur

thank you :)

Queen of Monaco (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha we have the same mind bc I was already drafting this before you requested it)

Warnings: death of parents and brother (mentioned), google translate, the Monaco curse is affecting Arthur now and that's a warning itself bro. I am in denial about the race results today, so I made this to make me happy.

Pronouns: She/Her

W.C. 4108

Summary: The beginning of the relationship between Arthur Leclerc and the Queen of Monaco.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Arthur's insta from January 29, 2023)

It was a normal day in Monaco. It was not a race week, and there were no pressing matters to attend. I had just returned to Monaco last week after attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the United States, but I just received my Bachelor's degree and wanted to return home before starting my Master's. I decided to take my first semester online, so I could go home and spend time with my family.

When I got back, my parents urgently began to train me for the throne even though I was not next in line. Despite having an older brother who was scheduled to become the King of Monaco after my parents, he had to serve in the military before he could move forward. They wanted to have me prepare in the event that something happened to him in battle. 

I had never really been in the public eye due to my brother being the next in line. He was always the one attending meetings, trainings, and keeping up appearances. I was free to do as I pleased for the most part, but in 2015, they sent me to a training school in London. It taught the basics of monarchy and the foundations of how to run a country. It was the same one my brother attended. Even in my spare time, I found my passion in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics. It took some persuasion, but my parents allowed me to attend MIT after my graduation because they were so sure that I would not be needed. My brother is in the final stages of the training. All he needed to do was finish the last few months of military training, and then he would be crowned. 

Upon my return, I learned that my mother was ill, so they wanted to get my brother crowned quickly. However, they practically had to start from square one since I was provided very minimal training in London. My father was furious, not at me, but at the situation they had been placed in. They told me the best thing I could do while they prepare the training is to memorize Monaco as it had been nearly seven years since I had been here. 

I was walking down the pier, looking at all of the little shops that lined the pavement and the boats at the dock. There was a small ice cream shop, a couple of clothing stores, a few restaurants, and a salon. I realized that I had not had my hair professionally done since before college, so I thought it would be a good idea to treat myself.

“Bonjour, comment puis-je vou aider? (Hello, how can I help you?)” A lady greeted me as I stepped through the door. It was a small shop, no one else was in there, but it was cute and welcoming other than the fact that I could not remember French for the life of me.

“I’m sorry, my French is no good,” I replied sheepishly, fully prepared to leave, but the woman stopped me.

“Oh, not a problem, dear. My name is Pascale, what can I help you with?” She smiled, kindly, leading me over to one of the chairs. 

“Well, I haven’t gotten my hair done in almost four years, so I think it’s time to freshen up,” I explained. 

“Oh perfect, I can most certainly help with that,” She laughed, placing an apron around my shoulders. “Are you thinking about dye, highlights, trim, cutting…” She started listing more but I couldn't follow along with all of the terminology. 

“Uh, probably just a trim,” I chuckled, “my parents would kill me if I showed up with short, dyed hair.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grinned and began cutting the ends, little by little, as we made small conversations. “What do you do for work?”

“I actually don’t have a job at the moment,” technically, “but I just came back from the United States. I was at MIT for the last four years, getting my bachelors in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics, and before that, I attended boarding school in London.”

“That’s interesting,” she hummed, “Sounds like you like Formula 1?”

“Not so much the races. I just like the cars,” I laughed in response. “I like learning what could make the cars better, faster, stronger, and safer, but the actual races aren't something for me. I watched one too many accidents end badly, so I can never find enjoyment in it anymore. The last race I went to was in Japan, and I lost my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, dear. If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Pascale consoled. I looked at her confused through the mirror. She just set the scissors down just as her phone got a notification. She pulled out her phone and opened the notification. It was a text message with a picture. “That is my son, Charles, and his best friend, Pierre. They’re in Formula 1. They went out karting today, and he just sent me this.”

“Oh, Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly! I know them,” I recognized immediately. “That’s your son?”

“Yeah, he’s always had this passion for driving, so I’m proud to see him living his dreams,” She smiled, putting her phone back, and resumed cutting my hair.

“Well, I’m proud of him too, and I don’t even know him.” I laughed. 

“Maybe, if you’d ever change your mind, you could join us for a race,” Pascale offered. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll have to see, but probably not,” I declined nervously. 

“It’s not a problem, dear,” She said, patting my shoulders. “But you are all done. How do you like it?”

My hair was shorter by a couple of inches, but it felt so much lighter and healthier than it did earlier today. “I love it so much, Pascale! Thank you so much! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, just promise you’ll think about joining us? It would do you some good to get to know more people, and you could even check out the cars before the race! If you’re not comfortable staying for the race, you can always leave. Just promise you’ll think about it before immediately rejecting it?” She pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” I laughed, “but only because you were so persuasive!”

–

The next time I was out in the streets was nearly a week later. My time was being packed with different trainings and attending private events, but nothing public yet so as to not stir up controversy. I decided to go to a local bakery and get some tea and some food. The food in the castle just did not compare to my favorite bakery. Not by a long shot. 

When I walked in, there were not a lot of people in there. It was a small shop with only two tables and a counter. There was the person behind the counter, Ella, and three people at the tables. One sat by himself and the other two occupied the second table. I approached Ella and ordered a tea and sandwich. She said she would bring it right over once it was finished, and I approached the man sitting by himself.

“Bonjour,” I greeted, my French was slowly coming back to me but not enough to carry a full conversation. The man looked up from his phone at me. He had blue eyes and shady blonde hair. He had airpods in and took one out as I approached the table. “My name is Y/n. Would it be alright if I sit with you? The other table is filled.”

 “Of course,” He responded immediately, moving the bag that was hanging on the other chair to the floor. “I’m Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur. Thank you for letting me sit with you,” I laughed, taking the seat that he pulled out for me. “I really appreciate that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He chuckled along, “It was just empty anyway.”

~

That was the start of an inseparable bond. It was strange having someone so close again because even though I had some friends in school, they were never as close as Arthur was. For the first couple of months, any time that was not filled with training was spent with each other. Whether it be chilling in his apartment, driving around Monaco, boat rides, and random trips around France and Italy, we were content with doing random acts of entertainment. It didn’t take long before he asked me to be his girlfriend.

One thing we knew would be difficult is the time commitments. With his recent change from Formula 3 to Formula 2 and more royal training for me, we knew it was going to be more time-consuming. That didn’t stop us, however. Tuesdays were the most random day of the week, but neither of us had any responsibilities.

One day in particular, the day before he was set to go to Australia, we were at his apartment, and I was helping him pack since he *conveniently* forgot. We had gone to get smoothies and acai bowls earlier that morning before heading to his apartment. Then, after we ate, we put on some music as background noise while we packed and conversed back and forth.

“Would you ever come to a race with me?” He asked as he pulled a couple of shirts out of his closet. “I know you didn’t have a good experience at the last one, but would you be willing to give it another time?”

“I don’t know, A. I get anxiety just knowing you’re racing,” I explained. Moving to fold the shirts he’s pulling out. 

“That sound like an improvement!” He laughed, jumping over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I put the folded clothes in the suitcase. “When we first started talking, you said no immediately. Now, you’re saying you don’t know.”

“What can I say?” I leaned back into his embrace, “You are pretty persuasive.”

“What are the chances of you coming to the Monaco Grand Prix with me?”

“The odds are in your favor since I don’t go anywhere,” I laughed in response. He turned me around in his arms. He was pouting and had his head tilted slightly. “No, don’t do the puppy face. You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please?”

With a heavy sigh and a joking eye roll, I caved. I was about to vocalize my decision, but my phone started ringing. This time, my sigh was out of annoyance after seeing it was from Mila, my personal guard and trainer.  “I need to answer that, but yes, I promise to go to the Monaco Grand Prix with you.”

“Of course,” He exclaimed, kissing me all over my face. “I will take care of everything. You go take the call, and I’ll finish packing in here.”

With a small smile, I walked out of his bedroom to the living room and stepped out onto the balcony before answering the phone. “Hi, Mila. What did I forget?”

“Nothing, but are you near the palace?” She responded. Just the tone of her voice made me nervous.

“Not really, I’m about 20 minutes away. Do I need to head back?” 

“Yes, let me know when you get here.” And with that, she hung up. I walked back in to see Arthur with his suitcase fully packed by the door.

“I need to head home,” I started. “Something’s not right.”

“That’s fine,” He reassured, pulling me into a hug. “I’ll need to head out for my flight soon anyway, so I’ll walk you to your car.” 

During the drive back, my mind wandered. Was there a meeting I missed? I couldn’t remember having anything scheduled on a Tuesday. Most meetings were on Mondays or Wednesdays and policy training sessions were Thursdays and Fridays. Maybe there was a last-minute meeting.

Pulling through the gates, I texted Mila once I parked in our car park, and a few guards were waiting for me. “Hi, what did I miss?”

“Y/n, we need to talk,”  one of the guards, Chris, said, and right then, I knew things were worse than I thought. We walked through the corridors to reach one of the meeting rooms, but the only person in there was Mila. The guards immediately turned around and left the room.

“Mila-”

“Have a seat,” She cut me off, gesturing to the seat next to her. I took it hesitantly as I looked at her skeptically. “So, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. As you know, your mother, the queen, was sick.”

“I assume she died then? That’s what this was for?” I cut her short. However, there was something on her face that said she wasn’t finished. “Okay, I’ll let you continue.”

She shook her head dismissively, “No, it’s fine, but you’re right. She passed away early this morning.”

“So my brother will be crowned when he comes back?”

“That’s the next news,” Mila paused. I encouraged her to just rip the bandaid off because I was getting impatient. “Your father went to the base to get your brother, but there was an explosion. There was a gas leak, and somehow the building they were in exploded. We’re still waiting on the details.”

“Wait, so my entire family…” I trailed off, but she knew where I was going. She just nodded solemnly as she pulled me into her side. “So that means…”

“It means you are to be the queen.”

~

Third POV

Ever since the Melbourne Grand Prix, Arthur has been talking about how his girlfriend was going to join him on the paddock for the Monaco Grand Prix. To say that his friends and brothers teased him would be putting it lightly. Any chance they could, they asked questions about this “girlfriend” of his that they had never heard of, and Arthur was willing to spill all of the details. On the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix when he was driving to the track with Charles, he accidentally let it slip that he actually had not heard from her recently. He asked Charles to check his phone to see if she had texted him recently.

“Wait, you haven't heard from her in over a month and you’re not at all worried?” Charles asked, very concerned for someone he’s never met.

“No, we’ve definitely texted recently,” Arthur responded in disbelief. When they pulled up to a red light, Charles showed him that the last message from her was April 1. “No, we’ve definitely talked.”

“Here, pull over. We’ll switch, so you can call her, and I’ll drive us the rest of the way to the track,” Charles said, already getting out of the car as soon as they were on the shoulder. He immediately dialed her number, and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. He thought about leaving her a voice message, but she was already calling him back before he could start.

“Hey, traffic is hideous, but I’m almost there,” She started her explanation. She was sitting in the backseat with a couple of guards, and Mila as her driver took them to the track. “Are you already there?”

“No, we’re not there yet,” he laughed. “Charles and I are still stuck in traffic, but we noticed that I hadn’t messaged you since the Australian Grand Prix. Thought I would call to see if you were still coming.” Charles was half listening to the conversation, but he was smiling to himself, hearing how lovestruck his younger brother sounded.

“Oh, definitely,” She chuckled. Mila nudged the girl with a knowing grin. “I’ve just been insanely busy recently, but I promised. On the bright side, I finished my training!”

“No way, I’m so proud of you, ma chéri!” Arthur cheered. Charles was a little confused as he pulled into the track, but let it go, knowing Arthur would explain it later. “Does that mean there will be a ceremony or something?”

“You could call it a ceremony, yes,” She giggled. She noticed that they were only a few blocks away from the car park of the track, so she turned her phone away toward her shoulder as she directed a question to Mila, “Could I jump out and meet up with Arthur before the race? I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll be in the box before it starts.” Mila turned to discuss it with one of the guards who was entirely against it. “Please, I won’t leave Arthur’s side, and you know he’s trustworthy.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Mila!” Arthur’s voice could be heard through the phone despite it not being on speaker. She gestured to the phone at her shoulder as Mila tried to reason with the guard.

“I’ll go with you,” Mila said as she started collecting their passes and jumping out of the car that was stopped in the traffic going into the parking lot. Y/n immediately climbed out of the back, pulling her phone back up to her ear.

“Alright, Arthur, where do you want us to meet you?”

~~

First POV

“You seem to have gotten shorter since Melbourne,” I laughed as I ran into Arthur’s arms from where he was waiting at the Dams garage. 

“You’re wearing heels,” he pointed out after we pulled away. “What are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“You say that like you don’t like me in heels,” I teased back.

“Ok, lovebirds,” Mila pulled our attention away from each other, “I am going to head up to our seats. Don’t tell anyone I left.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Thank you, Mila,” I responded as she started walking away.

“You have seats?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to rely on you for the passes for Mila, so she bought us hospitality seats,” I explain. It wasn’t the whole truth, but I could not just tell him that in the open. “Is it possible to talk somewhere away from the cameras?”

“You’re not breaking up with me, right?” He immediately jumped to conclusions.

“No, no, no, no,” I quickly shut down. “Je t’aime trop pour partir, mon amour. I just want to tell you something. (I love you too much to leave, my love)”

“Je t’aime, ma belle, (I love you, my beauty)” He whispered, pulling me in for a light kiss before leading me back towards the driver’s room he shares with Ayumu. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I took a seat on one of the beanbags as Arthur sat right next to me. I took a deep breath before deciding the best way to tell him was just to say it fast. “Arthur, I need to tell you about my family.”

“Are you trying to have me meet your family already? You could meet my brothers and maman today if you want,” He rambled.

“I can meet them, but you won’t be able to meet my family. That day you left for Australia was the day I found out they passed away.” I paused looking at his reactions. He looked sorrowful as he grasped my hands and ran his thumbs across the backs of my hands. “Maman had an illness, and papa went to get my brother from the base.”

“Your brother’s in the military?” He asked.

“Was,” I answered. He looked even more confused at that before I continued. “He was serving in the military as his last stage of training. Kind of like my trainings, he had to serve in the military.”

“What kind of training did you need to do? Was this part of your degree or something?”

“No, that’s the big secret I haven’t been able to tell you,” I whispered, putting my head down as I felt guilty for not explaining this sooner.

“Anything you have to say, I will accept you either way,” He reassured me as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my head. “I understand that you have your reasons for hiding some things, so whatever this is, it is not going to stop me from loving you.”

“What if it is complex with more spotlight than you already have?” I asked, throwing my head to rest on his shoulder and looking into his blue eyes. “What if it’s a big change?”

“When we go public, it will be a big change, but I’m willing to do anything for you, ma princesse.”

“Reine, (Queen)” I whispered.

“Quoi? (What)” He responded just as fast.

“What if I told you my parents were the king and queen of Monaco? And my older brother was the prince of Monaco? And now that they’re gone, I will be the queen of Monaco? What would you do?” 

He went silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you serious?” My silence was enough of an answer for him to jump up, pulling me with him as he starts laughing and spinning us in circles. He set me down after a couple of spins before holding me at arm's length,  “I would completely understand. I mean you probably didn’t plan on taking the throne because of your brother, and you’d just come back from studying. I only tell people who need to know, and when we met, I wasn’t someone who needed to know. We haven't talked since you found out, so I could never be upset with something like that.”

“But now, if we tell people, you will be heavily scrutinized as people will see you as a potential king,” I signed, happy to know he isn’t upset with me, but still wanting him to see all sides before completely agreeing to move forward. “You’d have more on your list.”

“The only question I would have is if it would interfere with racing,” He turned serious.

“I would never let them keep you from your passions,” I laughed. “They have to respect it by order of the queen.”

“Well, then I would see no issues against continuing to be by your side, ma reine,” he chuckled with a mocking bow.

“Merci mon beau prince, (Thank you my handsome prince)” I mocked back, “now by order of the queen, go win this race.”

~~

“And Arthur Leclerc passes Fredrik Vesti in the final turn of the race,” Crofty shouted over the radio during the final lap of the race. I was up in the hospitality seats with Mila and the guards but headed down to the pitlane a couple of laps before since I was going to be presenting the trophies. I was standing at the pit wall with Charles, Lorenzo, and Pascale, who I met (again) just before the race. “The Monaco Curse is broken for Arthur Leclerc as he wins his first Monaco Grand Prix!”

 I left the pit wall to meet everyone at the podium and stopped to meet up with Mila on my way over. She and the guards escorted me through the crowds. “I’ll tell you now, one of you will need to tell Arthur not to out our relationship when I give him his trophy.”

At the podium, I stood behind the steps as Alice announces the winners. “In third place, we have Théo Pourchaire! In second place, we have Frederik Vesti! And in first place, breaking the Monaco Curse, the home favorite, Arthur Leclerc! Presenting the trophies today is the future Queen of Monaco, Y/n.”

“I’m proud of you,” I said to Arthur as I handed him the trophy.

“Merci, now if only Charles could win,” He joked, taking the trophy and posing with it.

“I’ll tell him you’re talking crap about him,” I teased back, moving away to grab the next trophy for Dams. I handed them all out and expressed my congratulations to the other two drivers before posing for the picture and immediately ducking back as I knew Arthur would try to spray me. I walked down the stairs to meet up with Charles before he heads back to Ferrari for his own race. “Arthur’s talking shit about you. You better win.”

“I’m starting sixth, so we have hope,” Charles responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t box for hards at the last lap again and you’ll be fine,” I laughed as if it were really that simple. 

“Maybe I broke the curse for both of us or maybe I just had some good luck today,” Arthur said, coming up behind us and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh yeah, what good luck did you have?” Charles teased, punching Arthur into me.

“Maybe just the future queen of Monaco.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[timefospookies]

Post Meursault arc ADA!Sigma and the average workplace convo 😋👍

“I fantasize about killing you a lot these days, I hope you know that.”

“I fantasize about killing me too! Any tips on how you’d go about it?”

Though Sigma almost choked on their own spit, no one else in the office seemed to bat an eye. Dazai, who had been silently bothering his work partner Kunikida for the better part of 20 minutes, had nearly gotten the poor man to snap. The poet tried to ignore that bastard the entire time, growing increasingly more agitated with each tease to the point Sigma feared he might explode. So when he finally threatened Dazai through gritted teeth, they felt inclined to fully believe his murderous intent. Kunikida twitched visibly, but made no move to spare his partner a single glance (whether that be to keep his own composure or to not satisfy Dazai was anyone’s guess).

”I'd hit you on the back of the head and toss you into the ocean.”

They couldn’t blame the guy, though. Sigma themselves had only known Dazai for, what, a month? And they couldn’t say the thought of killing him hadn’t slid through their mind at least once. But Kunikida had known him for YEARS. The bandaged man seemed to have this sort of cursed aura that made anyone within a 5 meter radius immediately want him dead, so it’s a miracle he was still standing in one piece. Dazai, on his end, leaned back into his chair in disappointment.

“How unceremonious of you, Kunikida,” he huffed, bored, “Can’t you do better than that?”

“Why, you…”

The man took a deep, shuddering breath to ground himself. He balled his hands into fists as he exhaled.

“Just. Get back to work.”

“Hey, wait, now you’ve got me curious,”

Both of the men and Sigma glanced at the end of the room towards the source of the voice. Ranpo, the super detective, had glanced up from his handheld to look at Kunikida. Now that he had their attention, he popped the lollipop out from his mouth and began to wave it around as he elaborated.

“You’d kill him via blunt damage, but with what? Where? When? How would you dispose of his body? I know you’d toss him in the ocean, but how would you go about it? Would you stuff him in the trunk of your car? Take a boat? How would you conceal his body?”

Sigma shifted uncomfortably in their seat. He is a detective, so with the amount of murders he must see on the daily must make for a pretty effective reverse engineered murder plan. However, this topic of conversation was rather unsavory for an Agency who was supposed to jail murderers, not become them. Kunikida, on the other hand, looked at the detective like he’d suddenly been enlightened.

“Good point…” he muttered.

Good point?!

“Hadn’t thought about it in detail, huh?” Ranpo smirked.

“No, I suppose not,”

Dr. Yosano, the Agency…well…doctor, spoke up.

“Me, personally? I’d tie him up, chop him into little pieces, and flush them down the toilet,”

Oh, so now they’re actually planning Dazai’s murder in front of him, that’s nice. Sigma glanced at the bandaged man in terror only to find him absolutely delighted with the situation. They didn’t know what else they expected out of him, honestly.

“Now, that’s an interesting way to go!” he chirped, “Though the chopping bit sounds rather unpleasant,”

“You’re getting murdered, it’s not supposed to be pleasant!” Kunikida snarled.

“I was just saying…”

“Sounds like an awful lot of blood,” Ranpo mused, interrupting, “What would you do about a mess that size?”

Then the little farm boy, Kenji, chimed in cheerily.

“Just kill him at a meat factory! No one would suspect random blood puddles at a meat factory!”

Consequently, Jun'ichirō, the illusion ability user, piped up as well.

“I feel like that would open up more problems than solutions though…” he said sheepishly, “Like, how would you even get into the meat factory?”

 “Are there any meat factories in Yokohama?” the doctor asked.

Dazai sighed, spinning in his chair.

“Not anywhere nearby, I reckon. You’d have to get me there first, and trust me, kidnapping is as much a hassle for you as it is for me.”

Kunikida spoke, thinking out loud more than anything.

“So dismemberment is too complicated, and blunt damage is too elaborate..” 

He suddenly perked up, in what Sigma could guess was…excitement.

“What about a staged suicide?”

Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the office.

“That’s more believable,” Ranpo said, nodding approvingly.

“Not just that, but you’d barely leave a trace,” Dr. Yosano added, “Just spike his drink and you’re done!”

But Dazai hummed once more, pondering over the idea in dissatisfaction.

“You’d need an ungodly amount of poison though…” he grumbled, deeply troubled, “I’m terribly resistant, you know? What could kill and elephant could give me a mild tummy ache,”

“Oh my god, never say tummy,” the doctor cringed. 

“My tummy wummy~”

The room was, again, filled with noise, only this time it was that of collective groans of disgust and Dazai’s vile cackling.

“See?! This is why people want you dead, Dazai!” she cried, “God!”

“Wait, okay, wait,” Jun'ichirō intervened once everyone had calmed down, turning his chair to face the man, “You’re not affected by any type of poison? Like, not even the strongest created or something?”

“Nope! I’ve tried it all before and-”

“WHAT?!”

Kunikida shot up from his seat and slammed his hands on Dazai’s desk- the latter looked up at him like a dog who'd been wrongly accused of something.

“What do you mean ‘what’? This is useful information!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WHAT DO I MEAN’?! I-! WHY-!”

In his absolute red-faced bewilderment, the poet fumbled over his words way longer than any regular person should. Dazai didn’t seem to mind as he patiently awaited his partner’s response. 

“D-! DON’T DRINK POISON!” he finally sputtered.

“I wasn’t going to,”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!”

And with that, the poet brought his iron fist down on the man’s head, and the impact seemed to shake the room. Dazai sprung to life.

“OW, WHAT THE HELL?!” he cried, comically gripping his head in terror, “KUNIKIDA, DO YOU WANT ME DEAD OR NOT?!”

Sigma honestly wondered the same thing. 

“YES. NO?! IT’S COMPLICATED, OKAY?!”

Kunikida grabbed his partner by the collar and began to shake him around forcefully, bringing Hell down as he continued to yell and as the other resumed his complaining. What is happening? Sigma involuntarily grinned in grim confusion.

“Is this…normal?” they wondered out loud.

“Pretty much,”

Sigma yelped, their soul nearly leaving their body in surprise. 

“How long have you two been standing there?!” they cried.

The realization that Atsushi (Dazai’s mentee) and Kyōka (Atsushi’s mentee) had been standing behind them (possibly through the whole ordeal) struck them uncomfortably hard.

“Tummy wummy,” the two chorused in response.

It seemed no one’s ears were spared from Dazai’s horrible words. 

Sigma made a face, feeling generally disoriented, and Atsushi chuckled nervously as he waved his hands around in an attempt to comfort them.

“H-Hey, don’t worry, you’ll get used to it!”

“You’ll have to if you want to leave work psychologically unscathed every day,” the girl then deadpanned.

“Kyōka..”

How comforting. 

‘You’ll get used to it’, huh? The tiger boy didn’t look exactly convinced of that either as he stared at his arguing seniors with a tired look of amused disappointment. Sigma soon realized that the same look was plastered on all of the Agency members’ faces. What a bizarre thing this was- the weird dynamics of these peculiar people. What was even more bizarre was the look of genuine fondness in everyone’s gaze. Did they hate each other? Did they care about each other? Is it just both? Did this feeling of endearment and annoyance apply to everyone beyond just these two idiots? Sigma sighed as they felt themselves relax, just a little bit. How truly, truly bizarre…they’d get used to it.

[witchypandamonium]

A Knight's Honor

A collection of Luis/Reader snippets

This chapter: the lab. Luis and Leon fulfill their promises to you & Ashley.

Chapter 2 of ? Occurs during Chapter 15-16 of game 4,788 words, SFW No warnings Tags: Luis x f!Reader | AU | Luis lives

ao3

The ride to Saddler’s island wasn’t too bad, at least at first. Efrain’s boat was exactly what you expected of a smuggler’s ship–a little ramshackle, patched and pieced together with spare parts, but fast as the wind and draped in a tarp painted to blend in with the brackish waters of the sea. He’d even had enough to spare that he’d made a little den for “Huey” (turns out he’d been the one taking care of the stray, and he was loathe to leave the dog to fend for himself) to feel more secure on clearly his first boat ride.

Your left arm was bound to your chest to prevent further injury should you forget and attempt to use it, as well as to try and deaden the pain a bit (Tylenol could only do so much). It was, admittedly, a little annoying and hugely inconvenient, but you’d rather suffer through it, using all of that proprietary Umbrella drug on Luis’s much more serious wound, than to split it and risk his life further down the line. The healthy color in his skin and pep in his step returning after your shared rest was all you’d needed to be secure in your choice.

When the island came into sight through the mist and spray, however, Ef were forced to pull up to a small outcropping of rocks, still hundreds of meters from the shore, and cut all but the smallest engine. “Saddler’s eye may be focused on the American,” the merchant explained, “but from the radio chatter I’ve managed to tap into, they still have a small contingent on the towers watching the coast. If we follow this archipelago and keep down the noise, we should be able to slip in without detection.”

The thought of Saddler taking control of you again made your nerves buzz like a hive of bees in your chest, clutching your wounded left hand even tighter to your chest. You prayed he and Luis were right, that Leon was really putting pressure on Saddler as he grew ever closer to taking Ashley back; too much pressure for the cult leader to notice one little outlier sneaking in right under his nose.

Two broad arms enclosed you from behind as Luis, sensing your anxiety, pulled you against him. “It’s alright, querida,” he murmured against your temple. “We’re almost there. Then we can finally get rid of that damn plaga. You’re almost free.”

Giving one of his hands a grateful squeeze, you focused on taking a few calming deep breaths and quashing those intrusive thoughts that were convinced of your failure. Yes, the odds seemed impossible, but you had to try. Even if there was only a slight chance, it was still a chance–0.00000001-to-1 odds was technically better than 0-to-1.

“How do you feel?” that raspy voice continued, softer, gentler.

Terrified. But of course he meant physically, medically.  “O-okay… a little pressure in my head, but… nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Good. Hopefully it will stay that way, but Saddler had been experimenting on ways to influence acceleration of the maturation of the plaga when I escaped. We don’t know what he’ll do if he starts getting desperate.”

Great, staying calm was impossible now. You had to keep your eyes focused on the waves lapping against the rocks to keep from dissolving into a nervous wreck.

“Calmaté,” he squeezed you tighter, holding your trembling hand in his, “Ef and I know a route through the sea caves that leads to a cove right under Saddler’s castle. We can take one of the hidden maintenance walkways straight up to my lab–barely anyone uses them. No patrols, no cameras. We’ll be in before they even have a chance to notice.”

You knew he was trying to reassure you, and you so desperately wanted to do as he said, but you just couldn’t shake that feeling of wrongness, that crawling sensation under your skin that increased whenever you neared an area of increased plaga influence–perhaps specifically whenever you drew close to one of the entities possessing the dominant strain. The nausea, the subtle feeling of intoxication, the way the dark coloring of your veins intensified…

You watched the darkness of a vein on the inside of your wrist beginning to pulse to your heartbeat, almost meditative, losing all sense of time, when suddenly darkness fell over you. You realized that you’d successfully reached the island and slipped into one of the cave passages he’d talked about. It was almost beautiful, the way the light refracted off the water and danced along the sparkling stalactites on the cave ceiling. Almost. The water was too brackish, smelling of rot, and occasionally you’d spot a rivulet of black ichor seeping down the rock walls rather than water. And it was too quiet, you realized–not a single sea bird call could be heard, no doubt all dead from disease or plaga predation long ago. Occasionally you’d hear the pop of distant gunfire, a few bursts, then all would fall silent again. Odd how it brought you a bit of comfort–it meant Leon was still alive and fighting his way to Ashley.

Luis was the first to hop off the boat when you reached the “cove”, really a thin strip of sand barely big enough to fit a grown man lying down, holding out a hand to help you with a little chivalrous quirk to his smile. The sand was slippery with slime, a little worn channel stained red from the drainage water flowing from a heavily-rusted pipe at shin-height that jutted out from a narrow passage chiseled in the rocks.

“No wonder no one uses them,” you couldn’t help but chuckle, glad you had at least a little humor left.

It seemed to ease Luis’s mind a little as well, the scientist giving you an encouraging pat on the back as he gestured to Efrain. “One last time–radio check?”

The smuggler held one speaker of the old headset to his ear, eyes narrowing beneath the shadows of his hood. “Chatter’s gone quiet, which means Saddler’s probably using the hivemind exclusively now. Either he’s gotten wise to third-party intruders or Leon’s really putting the screws to him. Last I heard there was trouble going on at the base of the mountain. Odds are the American’s managed to break through the gate to the keep.”

“Knowing Leon? Por supuesto,” Luis chuckled, giving you a reassuring wink. Stepping up into the crevice that was just big enough for him, he held out his hand, “Alright, stay close.”

You didn’t let go, even as you stepped into the darkness.

The passage was almost pitch black, even when your eyes adjusted, only the occasional weak red light giving you any idea of your surroundings. It was a disorienting, suffocating maze, the air thick as water (you hoped it was just water) seeped from unseen cracks and dripped slowly down the mineral-coated, rough-hewn stone walls, but Luis marched ahead confidently, never for a moment hesitating at each intersection.

Not knowing how far sound would carry, nor how thick the walls were, you whispered, “You memorize the route?”

“Absolutamente,” he replied with a brief glance back at you, tone similarly hushed but still playful–something you were beginning to learn he did on purpose to ease your nerves whenever fear or doubt started creeping in. “This was my way out. Time was of the essence–I only had a few hours at most to get somewhere safe before Saddler realized I’d removed the plaga.”

Sometimes you almost forgot just how smart Luis was–the flirting and light-hearted joking were quite effective smokescreens. His gentle, reassuring squeeze of your hand told you quite plainly he understood and didn’t mind.

The column of light that materialized ahead of you was almost a welcome relief. Almost. Problem was what it illuminated.

A ladder.

This was going to be tough.

“Almost there. Normally I’d say ‘after you’,” Luis murmured as he removed the bandages pinning your arm to your chest, “but I think you’re going to need me up above with a safety line, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Thankfully a quick search revealed a rope hanging from a nearby pipe, and after one end was secured to the waist of the Spaniard and the other to you, the both of you began the ascent.

Hooking your elbow on the rungs worked well enough, but it was a bit of an ordeal, your wet shoes slipping while trying to step up more than once. Still, right hand gripping white-knuckled as you clung so hard with your left arm you were sure to have bruises on your ribs, you managed to avoid testing the strength of Luis’s knot-tying. You were so focused on following the very deliberate order of operations required for safe ascent–step, right hand, left elbow, step, repeat–that you didn’t notice the faint whispering on the peripheral of your senses, nor the pressure beginning to build behind your eyes (nor the occasional opportunity to check out Luis’s ass). It was only when you finally reached the top level, Luis gently lifting you by the waist to help you onto the platform, that your ears started to ring.

…my flock…

“You alright, ¿mija?”

You felt something warm under your nose, reaching up to realize it was bleeding. “Something’s wrong…”

Just over Luis’s shoulder, you saw two bright, pale blue eyes floating behind him. The area was well-lit and plainly empty, yet the gaze stared defiantly into your soul.

The American… kill…

A moment later the pulse hit you like a freight train.

You’d felt it once before, shortly after you’d entered Ramón’s castle. It was weaker then, when an ominous cultist in red robes had compelled the rapid growth of the other cultists’ parasites, the horrifying, bloated worms bursting their hosts’ heads as they continued to puppet their bodies toward you. Those plaga had already matured enough to completely control their hosts before, however. This… the agony, the twitching of your muscles as something worked to control them, the oddly intoxicating brain-fog, the voice. You knew instantly.

Saddler.

He must not reach the girl! Rise, my flock! Stop him at all costs!

You were only vaguely aware of your collapse, seizing as all your neurons fired at once, body struggling to override the various chemicals and electrical signals the parasite pumped into you as it began to seize control, tearing its way to your spinal column. As though underwater, you barely heard Luis’s muffled voice, the panic the only thing you managed to make out.

Not like this! You didn’t want to turn into one of those things! You didn’t want everything you to effectively die as a creature locked you inside your own body, a puppet at the mercy of one madman’s aspirations. Did the ganados even know what they were doing? Were they forced to watch as their bodies moved on their own, poorly mimicking mundane life routines and murdering any poor innocent that got in the way? Or did they die slowly, painfully, the internal damage too much, unable to even cry out as their entire essence was slowly donned by this foul creature as some grotesque disguise? You didn’t want to find out which nightmare was to be your fate. Please, no!

And then a cold wave washed over you, starting as but a pinpoint of light in the dark, bloody sea you were drowning in, but it spread quickly. But rather than scooping you from the foul, roiling waters, it was like being cast from one ocean into another, then being held under. At least it was quiet, the overwhelming susurrus dying away as the lightning firing throughout your body fizzled, leaving you exhaustedly adrift with only the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

The suppressant. The last little bastion of conscious thought in the corner of your mind was amazed that it was at all effective at this point. You couldn’t make much out after that. The agony of something ripping through you, sinking its claws into your very molecules, was replaced with a pulsing soreness, like you’d just finished the most intense workout of your life.

Anything outside of yourself came through a thick, syrupy filter; blurry, echoing, smearing.

You were floating barely above the surface of a mercury ocean, light reflecting off the ripples of liquid silver, obscuring much else from perception.

Murky figures in black robes hung like upside-down statues, passing one after the other like pillars in some submerged cathedral.

A low thudding, the distant, rhythmic thunk like that of an axe hitting wood, sounded somewhere beyond your deadened heartbeat, the gavel of some divine magistrate delivering judgment.

Carried by the waters, you were laid upon a plinth of stone as the waves washed the entrails of some dead, mighty sea serpent, across you. First one, then another, and another, until you couldn’t move beneath them.

Three suns rose in the misty gray sky, flitting like fireflies across the heavens. They brightened, then, until all you could see was white.

And then you were filled with a new agony, burning from the inside out, reality jumping from surreal and mildly unsettling to stark, pinpoint-clear pain. You knew you were screaming, but you could barely hear it above the shrill buzzing that had swallowed all. You couldn’t move, held down as you were, couldn’t escape this lance of pure, tortuous sunlight as it struck a void of writhing darkness lodged inside you like shards of glass. Shrieking, shattering, combusting. The only thing that anchored you, saving you from getting lost in the pain, was a strong hand gripping yours, keeping you from digging your nails into your wounded palm or tearing open the stitches, barely in the periphery of your perception. A lighthouse in a dark, foggy night.

Then, just like that, it was over. You had never felt so drained before in your life, wrung dry and pummeled into a fine powder. The last thing you heard before blessed darkness took you was a familiar voice gasping,

“İGracias a Dios!”

•••

You awoke slowly, hazy, formless dream and reality blending together as your senses slowly recalibrated after such a traumatizing experience. The first thing you could properly discern (other than the full-body soreness) was that same warm hand holding yours, a soft, familiar voice mumbling barely audible Spanish. Eyes cracking open, the bright, clinical light of the lab was almost painful, the world a bright, hazy mess for several moments. As things began to focus, you slowly turned your head to see Luis seated at your bedside, holding your bandaged hand between his as he rested his forehead against it. You could somewhat understand what he was whispering, recognizing the words enough to discern them as Catholic prayers.

“After all that’s happened…” your voice felt like sandpaper, but you had to say something—he looked so pitiful, “…I’m amazed you still believe in a god, let alone pray to him.”

Luis’s head snapped up, eyes glistening but bright as a smile uncharacteristically lacking of any sass or flirtiness bloomed across his face, almost as blinding as the lab lights.

“I’d pray to anything that’d bring you back to me, querida,” he rumbled, voice as sweet as syrup.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Maybe a poor choice of words when we’re in the heart of a cult compound.”

“Not when we’re finally safe in their blind spot.”

Trying to sit up suddenly in shock and excitement earned you a wave of lightheadedness and Luis’s gentle hand guiding you back down to the bed you’d been deposited on. That brief angle, however, did allow you to see a very important face—one you feared you might not ever see again.

“Ashley!”

The President’s daughter traipsed over with a grin like pure sunshine, her skin finally a healthy peach tone completely devoid of any dark veins. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as good as you,” you chuckled wryly, not even trying to hide your envy.

“You hit your head pretty hard back there, mija,” Luis crooned, affectionately brushing the hair from your face as he tapped the bandage wrapped around your forehead. “Mild concussion, I’d say.”

Well that certainly tracked with the hallucinations you’d experienced earlier. You hadn’t even noticed the wraps until he pointed them out to you. “What about Leon?”

“Never better.”

You almost shot back up again, though Luis anticipated this and was already holding up a scolding finger and tutting sternly. And so you simply craned your neck to see the agent look up from the papers he was studying on a nearby table, similarly looking hale and healthy, gifting you with a rare, subtle smile. “Glad to see you finally awake.”

It was hard to quite make sense of what you were seeing and what this meant—most likely thanks to the concussion. “How long was I out?” If you were all together again, and this was indeed Luis’s lab, then that meant…

You were all cured.

The answer of “Thankfully only about an hour,” from Luis was barely registered as a wave of emotions washed over you, each vying for control in an almost overwhelming rush. It was hard to even realize that you were crying as one thought managed to push to the forefront:

You’d done it.

You were safe, and all of you were alive.

“No no no no, cariño,” There was a hint of panic in the Spaniard’s eyes as he gently brushed away your tears with calloused thumbs, the kind of vicarious distress of a parent upset to see their child upset.

…or a lover.

No, you chalk that one up to the concussion—the likelihood of that was even lower than you all surviving this.

Ashley joined Luis in calming you with a gentle hand stroking your arm, a much-needed diving-line that helped guide you back to the surface. “You okay?”

“We did it?” you whimpered.

“We did it,” Baby Eagle confirmed with a squeeze of your shoulder.

“Not quite.”

A part of you wanted to roll your eyes (though it probably would’ve made you nauseous; Luis did so in your stead, muttering a clipped “Oye, time and place, Sancho!”). Leave it to Leon to be the party pooper. But by now you knew full-well just how reliable the agent’s instincts were and understood that he wasn’t so much pessimistic as realistic. First he analyzed the problem, and then he always presented a solution.

So you know he’d continue. “Saddler may not have control over us anymore, but he’s still a threat. I’m going to take care of the psychopath once and for all.” The satisfying sound of pistols being primed rang through the lab as he clearly prepared for a confrontation. “Luis, meanwhile, is going to get you and Ashley to evac.”

“And he’ll be right behind us once he’s done,” the Spaniard added, anticipating your protest. “We’ve got it all planned out—Leon’s got the map, Efrain’s got enough explosives rigged to convince Saddler’s private army that American backup’s finally arrived from the east, while I get you two señoritas to his boat at the western dock. All you need to do is take it easy.”

You couldn’t help but feel there were still a few loose ends swinging in the proverbial wind. “Weren’t you trying to negotiate an exchange with someone for escape before all of this? What about them?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m sure they can take care of themselves. Besides, I lost the goods thanks to Leon’s old buddy back in the caves. Ef will get us out of here for a US pardon. Trust me.”

While you couldn’t help but still be anxious, you did trust him, so you bit back any further objections.

As Leon headed for the door, Ashley stepped away to reach Efrain on the comm, leaving you and Luis alone for one last quiet moment.

His hands were still cupping your face, thumbs idly stroking your cheekbones. “I promised I’d get you out of here,” he murmured gently, “just like I promised I wouldn’t let you turn into one of them. We’re almost there, mija.”

And then he was leaning down to brush the softest of kisses to your forehead, quickly, barely more than a peck. Had his touch not kept you anchored in reality, you’d have been certain you were hallucinating. That couldn’t have been real. He couldn’t… You reached up to catch him before he could retreat too far, analyzing every micro-emotion that flashed in those gray eyes.

Surprise. Confusion. Realization.

Hope.

Amor. He’d said amor then, back in the foreman’s office. You hadn’t imagined it in your exhaustion. And his eyes said it again now, clear as a bell, amidst that shock identical to yours that you could feel the same.

Slowly you pulled him back, giving him every chance to stop you.

He didn’t. Not even when your lips touched his.

In fact, he leaned in, head tilting to better slot against you as his fingers crept to your hairline. It was relatively chaste, barely a hint of moisture felt, but it was like a fatal crack splitting a mighty dam in two; the completing of a circuit that launched a thousand fireworks. Luis, seemingly unwilling to bear parting from you for more than a breath, hissed a heated “Ay, mi vida,” before he swiftly closed the distance again, this time with searing intensity. You readily yielded to his tongue, welcoming him into the cavern of your mouth as you arched off the bed, desperate for more contact he was all too happy to provide, one large hand at the small of your back as he supported his weight above you on his opposite forearm. His scent washed over you–leather, tobacco, sandalwood, and traces of gunpowder–giving a pleasant, dreamy haze to your already floaty senses. You could be quite content to get lost in this moment forever, but the fingertips creeping just under the hem of your shirt whispered heated promises of more; of adoration showered upon you until the stars burst, just as soon as you were away from this place.

It felt at once too long and too short when you finally broke apart for air, a different kind of tears welling your eyes as they met his bright, shining quicksilver ones.

“Is this real?” you whispered, weak voice quivering in a mix of disbelief and joy.

Luis chuckled, the sound kindling a fire in your chest so warm you knew it’d never go out–your heart would become dependent on it. “After all that’s happened,” his smile took on that wry slant that had charmed you from the very start, mischief in his voice as he turned your words back on you, “I’m surprised this is what you have trouble believing.”

You clapped a hand on his face and shoved him away with a scoff, regretting rolling your eyes as you confirmed your hypothesis—it immediately made you dizzy.

He simply laughed good-naturedly and sat back in his chair, saying in a voice loud enough for Leon and Ashley to hear, “Alright, let’s get you two señoritas out of here,” adding in a lower, hushed tone for just you, “so I can show you just how real this is…” subtly adjusting his pants to relieve some… discomfort as he stood.

Your head went blank as your face went hot. How the fuck did he manage to do that? This wasn’t the first time he made something that could be misconstrued as creepily lewd instead so subtly hot that it short-circuited you. You’d always brushed it off, however–he was just a flirty guy, after all, and certainly would never be seriously interested in you.

And now here he was, his lascivious smirk tempered by the earnest adoration in his eyes as he offered a hand gallantly to help you up, even kissing the back of yours afterwards like a proper knight. You’d gone through hell, but it seemed you’d come out the other side with something… wonderful.

Now wasn’t the time, however. Now you had to concentrate on standing upright without swaying too much as you heard Ashley say into the comm, “Hit it.” You felt the vibration in the floor before the sound of a distant, muffled explosion caught up to it, triggering an immediate alarm that bathed you in red as sirens blared.

Leon, standing at the ready by the eastern door, met your eyes one last time. His trained neutral expression was oddly warm, comforting as only Leon could make it. Then, with a sharp nod, he was gone.

Fear immediately started bubbling up in you again, but Luis was right beside you in an instant, arm at your back to keep you steady and usher you through after him. Ashley then took his place as he drew his Red 9 and took the lead to heroically guide the three of you to the docks.

The distraction worked–the remarkably short route was empty of any opposition, and in what felt like no time at all you were being helped back into Efrain’s boat, the smuggler still cackling to himself about what a panic he’d stirred up. No, what ended up being the most difficult was the waiting afterwards. Retreating from the docks to anchor as close to the northern cliffs as they safely could, somewhere they wouldn’t be seen unless the witness was standing right at the edge, they had to sit in perfect silence, praying that Leon would be successful in whatever he’d planned to do to neutralize Saddler.

When the alarm stopped, you started fidgeting. When the gunshots started up again, you were trembling, welcoming the shelter of your knight’s arms–his coat was even opened up for you to burrow further within, perhaps because he thought you might also be shivering from the cold oceanic wind (a real possibility, but your head was too scrambled to really isolate any one sensation or emotion). Ashley was remarkably calm, brow barely creased in concern, as she kept her eyes squarely trained on the northern platform; the lack of a concussion probably helped, though being the President’s daughter she no doubt was already familiar with dealing with crises.

The roar that came next, however, made the whole boat flinch. You caught a glimpse of a massive, bladed tentacle thrash over the platform before you drew quickly back to the safety of Luis’s coat, pressing as close to his warm chest as you possibly could, screwing your eyes shut tight.

Trust him, you kept repeating to yourself, trust him trust him trust him. For once Saddler’s angry–that’s a good sign. Just trust him.

One shot. Two. Three.

Another roar.

Then silence fell again.

How exactly you missed the sound of the helicopter that approached the platform, you weren’t sure. You felt more than heard Luis’s chuckle. “I knew it,” he muttered to himself.

When another explosion hit, Ef quickly barking, “That’s not mine!” the panic started again. It soon became apparent that there were more being set off in a massive chain that stood to potentially level the whole keep. The smuggler was so desperate to get the anchor up that he was aiding the winch with his own hands, no doubt giving himself some pretty bad rope burn for his troubles, but it helped them gun the engine to a safe distance that much quicker.

But wait…

Was… was that the sound of another boat engine? It wasn’t the helicopter–it seemed to have vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared, the smoke covering its escape. You built up the courage to peek out from your jacket shelter.

Leon!

It was Leon! Shooting out from some hidden cave, the agent just managed to outpace the island’s collapse on a pilfered jet ski, none to worse for wear. A rare bright, boyish smile broke through his look of concern and concentration as he spotted you all–the last thing you saw clearly before your vision was swimming in tears again.

He did it.

You were free.

The evening was a blur after that. You remembered crying and cheering and so many hugs. Leon must have managed to contact whatever secret service department he was working for, as at some point you were intercepted by a Navy ship of some sort, which passed you to a carrier, where two helicopters were waiting–one for Ashley, the other for the rest of you. The last thing you remembered was dimly marveling at how fast the aircraft was before you fell asleep, Luis never once letting you go.

[partofmycharm]

The Cosmic Dance (Ellie Williams)

Abby.

Ellie never imagined that a two-syllable word could have such an effect on her life.

Some stars burn out instead of fading. They end their lives with a cosmic explosion, a supernova.

There was a small part of her that regretted sparing Abby. The thoughts only came in the quiet when the distant rustling of the leaves in the wind could be mistaken for the crunch of bone. Sometimes, when Ellie closed her eyes, she could still feel the blood that trickled down her nose; such a light, feathery, forgettable feeling, but she remembered it the most. She remembered the look on Abby’s face right after she had killed Joel.

Confusion. Ellie didn’t care for it much, not until she was left alone in the water that day. And, suddenly, she understood. When she sat there, the salt burning her open wounds, her skin throbbing with waves of pulsing pain, and the distant noise of the boat’s engine, Ellie understood. Killing Joel hadn’t fixed anything for Abby.

The death of a star precedes the creation of nebulae, remnants thrown by the explosion into space.

Ellie still cringes when the faux sensation of blood trickles down her face. Some days, she’s not sure if she’s going to see Abby pummelling Dina’s head into the concrete like it was a porcelain doll, or if she was going to see Abby cracking Joel’s skull open one last time.

She felt guilty when she realised she couldn’t remember what Joel looked like anymore. She felt guilty when the only thing she remembered was the way his skull caved like it was made of clay. She felt guilty when she saw Dina unconscious in her memory, dying, vulnerable, a mere toy of brutality.

Either way, whether it was Dina she saw or a faceless man, the noises were still the same. Ellie hated the sound of breaking bones now. Her heart skips a beat even at the mere thought, because sometimes her brain thinks it’s still happening. And when the birds sing at morning light, she hears not the melody of Mother Nature’s most beautiful creations, but the distant call of a wounded voice. And every time, it’s not Joel nor is it Dina, but it’s herself, pleading, crying, screaming her own woeful song of agonising paroxysms.

When the star is large enough, it will leave behind a blackhole, a volatile vacuum that will take without bias.

Ellie hated Abby. That was without preamble. But that’s not to say she didn’t understand her.

They experienced parallel walks of life. But Ellie hated the way Abby couldn’t let go, because if she could, why couldn’t Abby? Abby was a violent storm, an unrelenting force that could move immoveable objects. She was a black swan who danced with crimson; she brought only pain and misery because she could not let go of her own pain and misery.

Ellie had been struck with the distinct notion that life was unfair. She wasn’t like Abby, or so she told herself. But she knew there was one paramount difference that separated them: the ability to forgive. Ellie let Abby go not because she forgave Abby, but because she forgave herself.

Some nebulae are nurseries where new stars are birthed, a cycle of life.

But there was something else Ellie hated Abby for. And it wasn’t because she had tried to kill Dina and Tommy, or because she killed Joel and Jesse. And Ellie didn’t really understand, because, for some immutable reason, Abby always won.

Because Abby had something.

And Ellie has nothing.

[saiakv]

“ i’ll always choose you. that’s the worst part of it all. i’d choose you over and over ... ” (cube)

angst prompt : accepting

What a poorly designed contraption.

The boat's engine groans beneath his feet as he settles in the fishing boat cabin. And yet, even amidst the sound of waves lulling the ship, the mahjong game's music and the occasional shuffle from the crew, the Limitless' grating voice prevailed. Frankly, Kenjaku had stopped getting any enjoyment out of their game too early into the finalizing trip, but it was important to have that failsafe.

The boat is small, discreet, off the radar. When they begin to approach the ridges of Japan Trench, they have made an agreement to switch the lights off. But they were not even halfway there, yet. When you have been patient to a fault for the last thousand years, waiting for this moment, the moment where the Six Eye user would be out of their hair for good ... well, those last few minutes you had to endure felt like centuries apart.

He had tested every known seal, talismans, even had a curse swallow it at one point — at the height of his despair, he had even resorted to the primitive tactic of shaking it violently. But nothing seemed to work. It all pointed towards an insufferable voyage to the trench. It became an inevitability that Kenjaku would just have to settle for listening to the Six Eyes brood all the while. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't change anything — as all the pieces had fallen into place already. That reminder made it easy to keep wearing that everlasting smirk.

❝ Oh well, but you didn't choose him back then, did you, Gojo. ❞ An absent-minded comment, as they have taken to making in passing — sometimes provoking, sometimes responding in a factual tone. There was a smudge of sadism into the act — but not the forward, violent kind. A kind that was so detached it felt natural to witness, like the wolf devouring a sheep.

❝ Personally, I am very content with your choices. ❞ They humor him, flat on their back on the boat's leather couch and hoisting their phone overhead. And then, after a pregnant pause —

❝ You know, if you had followed him that day, the world would be a very different place now. I might have not even been inclined to go through with any of this... Hm. ❞ All of his loved ones that this could have spared, right? Kenjaku's smile grows candidly malicious.

[screaming-skvll]

RE/100 MSN-03 Jagd Doga (Oldtype Custom)

I began planning this project when I learned a 1/100 scale Jagd Doga was available in the RE/100 line, but it took a long time to come to fruition because I wanted to use the Quess variant from P-Bandai in order to get that version's faceplate and kickass beam gatling. After many months waiting for the kit to travel on a literal slow boat from Japan, I was very excited to build this one.

Although the Jagd Doga is famously a newtype-use suit, what with the psychoframe cockpit and remote funnel weapons, I found myself toying with the notion of a oddball unit without that equipment. After all, Anaheim Electronics based their development of this machine upon the grunt suit Geara Doga—and perhaps they would've constructed a mechanical test unit while another team worked on refining the psycommu system and funnels. What if, instead of disassembling that test unit for spare parts after AE's development was complete, some astute Axis engineer intervened, earmarking that high-performance prototype for a capable pilot without newtype abilities?

As with the Gundam Mk. III I'd built just before it, I opted for a battleship grey sort of look. (In fact, I'd planned this color scheme before I got the notion of building the Mk. III at all.)

For the monoeye, I used a stick-on plastic jewel instead of the usual flat sticker. This domed piece has a reflective backing, so when it catches the light it returns a compelling glint. It also makes the eye look much more substantial in general.

Forswearing the kit's fixed hands, I splurged on a spare pair of so-called emotion manipulators, the highly articulated hands used with the vaunted MG Sazabi ver. Ka. They didn't come with their own back plates, so I had to file the ones from the kit to fit the new hands. I also had to make some adjustments to the grip tabs on both the hands themselves and the Jagd Doga's weapons. Unfortunately the resulting fit is imperfect, making the suit's grip on its weapons rather weak. This is especially an issue with the large, relatively heavy beam gatling, which also causes the wrist to sag.

Posing the suit is also difficult on the whole. Although its joints have decent range, the bulkiness of its design doesn't permit very many poses. Additionally, despite lacking an inner mechanical frame, its large components are still fairly heavy, which keeps the Jagd Doga from holding some poses at all even if it can be positioned into them. For instance, it is capable of a fair bit of torso bend, but the joint isn't strong enough to hold the suit's weight.

Despite its shortcomings, I like this model a lot. I knew what I was getting into in terms of its limitations, and I enjoyed the relative simplicity of the kit. While it can't hold particularly dynamic poses, its massive size and unmistakeable character give it a lot of presence.

[overwook]

x. dossier. / x. wanted plots. x. pinterest. / x. thread tracker.

heyhihello it's your girl baz here with a 2nd muse, this one far less fleshed out but it'll be really fun to figure him out more in this setting! those close to him have always called him wookie, which is a reference lost on him; bro has never seen a star war. anyway, he's your typical stoner / burnout skater boy who is an annoying little sh*t with a heart of gold somewhere deep deep down. there's a little bit more under the cut and as usual, if you wanna plot anything with this goober, pls do leave a like! also you can find me on discord @ umjis_gf if that's easier 💗

BACKSTORY

born & raised on jeju island. the family was financially comfortable due to his mother's realtor career and his father's months out at sea fishing, but the latter's absence was known to take its toll on the family.

wook took full advantage of less supervision and pretty much made the island his stomping grounds. he'd venture around for most of the day, only returning home around dinnertime to fill his empty stomach.

when he received his first skateboard for his 8th birthday, he taught himself to ride in the old empty pool of an abandoned mansion on the island. he'd stay there for hours, falling flat on his face dozens of times before he finally learned to sail across flat ground on the board.

after a few years, he'd gotten pretty good and had learned a plethora of tricks that the pool allowed him to land fairly easily. sure, he'd also built up a few hospital visits, but none of it ever seemed to deter him from what he loved to do.

his teenage years were a little more...stormy as his attitude towards his father became pretty icy. he was never around and when he was, he was always extremely short and uncaring with his family. wookie knew his father was tired from the months at sea, but he also knew the asshole could spare his distraught wife more than a hand wave and dirty dishes on the kitchen table to wash up later.

when taewook turned 16, it came out that his father had actually been cheating on his mother with the woman who did the finances for his fishing boat. at that point, wook was done with his father and wouldn't even speak to the man.

his father moved out, and it was just wookie and his mom from then on. when it came time for him to go to college, the two moved to daegu after he was accepted to kyungpook national university. wook studied civil engineering, but despite the school's best efforts to guide him toward success, it was here that he became truly aimless.

he started smoking weed that he'd buy off other students, staying out all night drinking and partying, missing classes and doing insane skateboard stunts off sacred parts of the school grounds. when he was eventually kicked out of the university, he'd never seen his mom so disappointed. even his father's infidelity hadn't broken her heart the way he had, and it made him spiral even further down the rabbit hole.

wookie's mom did eventually forgive him, and her disappointment was replaced with heavy concern about her son's future. he assured her he was fine, and got a job at wonhyeong skate park to prove to her he was at least moving in the right direction.

he was even able to get his own apartment and a guinea pig to take care of, all acts done to show his mother that he was serious about turning his life around, though it was more so to bide his time than anything else. at least he did end up becoming best friends with doch!

PERSONALITY

this little sh*tdemon okay, so he is an absolute pain in the ass. loves to tease people and whine until he gets his way. will eat any food you leave out so literally don't leave food in the vicinity of him and walk away, he's like a wild dog.

if he disappears, he's 100% somewhere secluded smoking a joint. he smokes way too much and boy do his eyes show it: literally always slightly red and very sleepy. it also makes him pretty lazy, but that also means he'll be too tired to argue and that is a major plus.

has a massive weakness for pretty people. he's very flirty and lighthearted with people he finds attractive but he's also afraid of commitment so he's never been in a real rs?? he's only ever just slept around. a lot.

some have mythologized that wookie actually has a kind heart deep down, especially in the way that he cares about what his mom thinks of him and the adorable way in which he interacts with doch and dotes on him like a proud father.

speaking of fathers, don't ask him about his! or he will literally brood and cry for three days.

being friends with taewook means that you sometimes run the risk of tripping over him asleep on your floor hours after you thought he left, with an open bag of cookies laying next to him.

he can be a good time or a waste of time, it truly depends on the day.

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image ID: Series of tweets from Shane Morris (@/ IAmShaneMorris) on 21 May 19 reading: Y'all wanna hear a story about the time I accidentally transported a brick of heroin from Los Angeles to Seattle? I bet. Alright, let's do this... (a thread)

I was living in Newport Beach, California, kinda just -- trying to figure life out. My buddy Tyler calls e up out of the clear blue, and he's like, "Hey dude, you wanna do the most epic road trip ever?"

I'm like, "Sure."

At the time, Tyler was a boat mechanic in South Florida, so I fly down to Miami, and I end up staying with one of his coworkers for a few days, until I can buy a Honda Shadow 750 for like $2,700. (He already had one, so I got a matching bike so we could share spare parts.)

From Miami, we set off across the United States, staying at the kind of motels along the way you see on movies like No Country For Old Men. If you're going to ride across the United States on a motorcycle, do it on two lane roads. It's worth it.

We end up swinging down through Mexico, and this isn't really important to the story, but we pulled over to rest in the middle of the desert, and these wild horses walked up to us, and were actually like... oddly friendly. They let us pet them. It was super cool. Anyway...

After like 10 days, we made it back into Southern California. He had an uncle in Temecula, and my ex was in Newport Beach, so we both rested for a few days. Riding a bike across the country takes a toll of your body. So we decided to switch it up.

We decided to sell our bikes, and buy a 1979 Dodge Ram van. I want to say we paid like $600 each for it -- $1200 all in. It needed a little work, but the important part was it was all easy stuff. We named the van Cassandra, and wrote our names on the door.

Picture of two people standing in front of a van. Picture of two people sitting on the curb next to a van.

The plan was easy: We'll drive up the Pacific Coast highway, and camp all along the way. We took the middle seats out of the van, so we could sleep in it at night incase it was raining. Then we went to REI to get hammocks for hammock camping.

On our way up, we stopped in Santa Barbara, and picked up my sister. At the time, she was in school at UCSB, and she was planning on flying home to the Bay Area to see our dad, so I was like, "Just come camping on the beach with us." So she did.

2 people standing on the beach.

Driving north, we made it so pretty cool spots, like Bixby Canyon Bridge. All along the way, we're letting anyone who meets us write their name on the van and take a picture. It was... fucking awesome.

Picture of a person sitting on a bridge. Picture of 2 people standing on the edge of a cliff next to the van.

Around Big Sir, our van had its first problem. The rear drum brakes were making awful noises, and locked up. I ended up buying a set of Craftsman tools, end then I did a brake job in the parking lot of a Wal Mart.

While I was there, I was like, "I'm gonna do a few other things." When I got the van, I changed the oil, and... that's it. (I know I should have done more of a tune up, but honestly, the van was running fine. The interior was even pretty nice.)

On these old Dodge vans, the engine access is inside the car, in between the driver and the passenger. I hadn't even lifted it up when I bough it. (I'm an idiot. I know.) So, I decided to change the spark plugs, the fuel filter, and the air filter. I'm So glad I did.

I opened up the engine cover, and sitting right on top of the engine was like, grass, straw and little bits of carpet. A mouse had made a home, right there on top of the engine block. I'm lucky it hadn't started a fire. So I cleared everything out, and changed the plugs/filter.

I remember yelling at Tyler, because he was the one who poured the oil in, and I was like, "How the fuck did you not notice there was a fucking rat's nest on top of the fucking engine block when you were pouring in the oil?!" And he was like, "It's an old car." LOL. WTF.

So anyway, we drive up into Oakland, and meet up with my friends there. We stayed at their house overnight, smoked weed, ate a meal, and chilled out. Then, we set off for Mt. Shasta, and Lake Shasta. (It's a really beautiful lake.)

Picture of a group of people standing in front of the van.

We camp at Mt. Shasta. It's beautiful. The lake was really low, but the water felt great. (Not really critical to the story, but go if you ever get the chance.)

Picture of two people around a campfire. Picture of a bridge.

Finally, we get up into Oregon, into the Cascades, and head into Washington. The whole time, we're hiking, camping, spending time in nature... it's really just one of the coolest experiences of my life. (Not sure what summit this was.)

So, here's the thing about old cars with carburetors - you needs to adjust them for altitude. An ideal fuel ratio at sea level is called stoichiometric -- which means 14.7 parts air, to 1 part fuel. As you gain altitude, you need to lean out your carb jets.

Mount Jefferson is something like 10,000 feet, so as we're driving up, probably around 6,000-7,000 feet, the van starts running way too rich. It was obvious. So... I was like, "Tyler, pull over. I'm gonna lean out these jets."

One a single barrel carb, you're only dealing with a few screws and springs, and basically.. you just kinda guess at it. (LOL.) So, I'm just listening to the engine, and then I would reach over and tap the gas pedal to see how it sounded.

So, Tyler steps out of the van, and I'm hunched over the engine, just twisting on the screws, and I hit the gas, and Tyler is like. "Holy Shit!" At first, I'm like, "Oh my God, something is on fire." So I pop up, and look around and I'm like, "What?"

Tyler, is like "What the fuck is that? I look down at the carb, and I'm like... "I dunno? Which part are you looking at? Does something look broken?" He's like, "No Dude! Look On The Cover!"

I look to my left, on the underside of the engine cover, and there's what appears to be a brick of aluminum foil, and it's taped up with aluminum tape that clamshell cover. Immediately, I'm like, "Oh shit what the fuck?"

So, I stop what I'm doing, turn the engine off, and start slowly prying this aluminum brick off the underside of the clamshell. Tyler is freaking out. (He doesn't do drugs.) He's like, "Oh my God! It's like on cops when they find drugs hidden in the car!"

I get the brick untaped, and then undo like seven layers of foil. They used a Lot of foil on this thing. What I found was a white, perfectly shrink wrapped brick. I thought it was coke, so I cut open a bit of the corner, put some on my finger, and rubbed it on my gums.

Edit of Finn and Jake from Adventure Time with flames and a galaxy background with text reading: Drugs.

If you've ever done coke, you know it's kinda hot, and then it makes your gums numb. This definitely wasn't coke, and I'm not the type of dude who does heroin. (Just, don't do heroin. Seriously. It's no good.)

So, Tyler and I are standing next to each other, when I hear tires on the gravel behind us. Let me paint you a picture: We're standing there with the hood up, clamshell open, side by side, with a brick of pure heroin.

Who do you think rolled up?

Man, a goddamn Park Ranger rolls up behind us. Just so you know, park rangers are the police. They have guns, and they just happen to work in a park. They can arrest you and everything.

I'm holding a brick of heroin in my hands, and there's a park ranger 30 feet behind me. So I reach down, and pretend to go into my tool kit. Thankfully my hands are greasy as hell, and I can pick up some tools. So I slide the brick under the seat.

I pop around with and pretend I'm putting a socket set on a breaker bar, and I'm like, "Oh hey there. How can I help you?" The guy is like, "You guys having trouble?" I'm like, "I'm just trying to jet the carbs." He's like, Oh, I remember doing that when I was your age."

Then he's like, "You ever done it before?" I'm like, "I'm kinda just learning as I go here. We're from California." The dude laughs and he's like, "Here, I'll show you."

So the ranger walks over, and he's like, "I remember these old Ram vans. So much room."

We open up the clamshell, and this guy's knee is like two inches from this brick. Man, I'm trying so hard to act normal, but Tyler? He's not playing it cool at all. He's like, "You know, I'm sure Shane can figure it out. We don't need you wasting your time on us."

The ranger is like, "Oh it's no big deal. Most of the time I'm just telling people to put their trash higher up, so the bears can't get to it." So he's just chatting with us, and I'm telling him how we bought the van and drove all the way up the coast, etc.

Finally, we get the jets set, and the ranger is like, "Alright, you boys stay safe." Lile, he had no clue he was probably two inches away from the biggest drug bust in the history of Oregon state parks.

Once he drives off, Tyler is freaking out, "Oh my God!? What are we gonna fucking do, man?" I'm just like, "Uh, we're gonna make a shit ton of money selling a brick of heroin." So, I wrapped it up, and just stuck it in the bottom of the cooler in freezer bags, under the ice.

Then, we drive up into Seattle, and I call one of my buddies who I know sells a shit ton of weight. I'm like, "Yo ******, we need to talk." I won't go into all the details, but I managed to sell it all to one person. It was lower risk. Plus, I'm not a drug dealer.

For the record, my buddy Tyler wouldn't take any of the money. Eventually, I convinced him to let me give him $600 for the van, so I could say I bought the van myself. (The van was in his name.) But this story isn't over yet...

I end up selling the van to some hippies from Ashland, and then move to Atlanta. About a year goes by, and I'm not even thinking about this van anymore. Then I get a phone call from a number I don't know. I let it go to voicemail.

The same number calls me again, 30 seconds later. So I answer it. "Hello?" The voice on the other line: "Hey, can I speak to Shane?" I'm like, "Speaking?"

Dude is like, hey, my dad gave me your number. He said he sold a van to you about a year ago?

Immediately, I'm like, "Yeah, he sold me a van." The guy is like, "Wow, that's great news. I'm so glad I found you. So, I don't like to talk about this, but I was in jail. I had a substance abuse problem, and I ended up going to jail because I made some mistakes."

I'm thinking, "What's the angle here?" So I'm like, "Oh, well -- that sucks. Anyway, how can I help you?" So the dude goes into this crazy ass long story. He tells me about how he has so many memories with the van. Yeah, it was in his dad's name, but it was his first car.

"I know it's just a beat up old van, but I'd really like to buy it back from you. Dad says you paid something like $1200 for it. I think I'd be willing to go as high as say, $1800 to get it back. The memories are just worth that to me."

The light goes on in my head. Jail. Substance abuse. He wants the van back. He is willing to pay $600 back over what I paid for it. (Street value, bagged up, if you slow-sell it, there was something like $40,000 worth of heroin in that brick.) This dude wanted his brick back.

The guy didn't go to jail because he had a substance abuse problem. No heroin junkie can afford $40,000 in heroin. The guy did tie because he was the plug. So... I decide to make some money.

Picture of Phoebe from Friends doing an evil laugh

I don't own this van anymore, but I definitely know who I sold it to, and I know I can buy it back, so... I start spinning a story. I'm like, "Man $1800 just won't do it. I've put a lot of money into this van, and it's really running like a top now. It's my daily driver."

He's like, "Oh yeah?" I'm like, "Yeah dude. She's in great condition. I redid the carb, the breaks, all the fuel lines, put some tires on it, redid the carpet on the interior, a lot. I've probably put at least $5,000 into this thing." He's like, "Wow, you really did a lot."

So he's like, "Where are you located?" I'm like, "Oh, I'm up in Ashland, Oregon." (Remember: I was in Atlanta.) He's like, Oh, that's not too bad. If it runs as well as you say, I may just drive up there with a friend and then drive it back down here."

So finally he's like, "I respect that you put a lot of work into it. Like I said, the van has a lot of sentimental value to me, and I'm glad to hear you took care of it. I think I could offer you $6200. That's what you paid for it, plus the $5000 you say you invested."

So I said, "Alright, you have a deal." As soon as we hung up, I called the people in Oregon I sold the van to (I kinda sorta knew them through friends), and I was like, "Hey, do you still have that van?" They're like, "Yeah, but it's not running." I'm like, "Oh?"

I was like, "You care if I buy it back from you?" The guy was like, "Dude, I'll sell it for $100 if you just get it out of my driveway." So I was like, "Sold." I booked a ticket to Portland the next day, and then rented a car, and drove to Ashland.

Along the way, I called up the old owner of the van's son, and I'm like, "Hey will you be free to drive up this weekend?" He's like, "Oh yeah. Totally. I can come up." It will only take me two days to drive up there." It was Tuesday. We agreed to meet on Sunday.

I fly into Portland, rent a car, and then get to Ashland on Wednesday. I go to an auto parts store, and buy a battery jumper kit, and some hand tools. I need to get the van running. I go to see the van, and it's sitting there, pretty dusty, but otherwise okay.

TL:DR -- the only thing wrong with the van was a bad battery. This couple just didn't want to spend any money on the van, because they had recently purchased a Subaru Outback. (Go figure. It's Ashland.) So, I changed the battery in an auto parts store parking lot.

Then, I took the van to one of those self cleaning car wash places, and gave it a good wash and vacuum. Honestly, it cleaned up really nice. At this point, I decided to check in with the guy, and kinda fuck with him a little bit in the process.

The guy answers really fast, and he's like "Shane! Hey buddy, what's up?" I'm like, hey, I do want to mention one thing about the van, and I hope this doesn't change your plans about buying it." He goes silent. "What's up?"

I was like, "I don't want you to be mad but, uhm, after I bought the van, my friends and I... we uh... we wrote on the outside of it with permanent marker. I can't get it off. I tried." And I hear him sigh like Hella loud. "Oh, that's fine. I can repaint it."

I'm like, "I want to be fair on the price, because I didn't tell you. So... how about I knock $200 off? I just want to pay whatever is fair to get the marker off." He says, "Thanks for telling me. I'll accept the $200 discount. See you Sunday?" I'm like, "Yup!"

So, next things next: I need to make a fake brick of heroin. So I head to a Goodwill, and buy a medium sized paperback book. It was "The Pelican Brief". I thought that was a funny detail for some reason. (Good book. Also a good movie.)

Then I get in my rental, and took off to Medford, because I couldn't find aluminium tape anywhere near Ashland. I got there, got my tape, and then bought some heavy duty foil in a grocery store. From there, I drove back to Ashland.

Making the fake brick was actually pretty easy. I just wrapped it up the same way I remember the brick being wrapped, and then taped it down with aluminium tape the same way I remember it being taped--kinda like a tic-tac-toe board. They had taped the Shit out of it.

Then... I just kinda waited. On Friday, I got a phone call from the dude letting me know he was on the road, and I said "Hey, my mechanic says we can use his bay in case you want to inspect it." And the dude was like, "Oh that won't be necessary." I'm like, "Oh I insist."

On Saturday, I called a local mechanic and I was like, "Hey, I'm selling my van to some people from out of state, and I was hoping I could give you $50 in case they want to use one of your bays to look under the care for a moment?"

(Car buying tip: Any mechanic worth his salt will take you up on this offer. It's good for both the buyer and the seller to have a mechanic take a look. They know they'll be getting any work on any fix they identify.)

We meet at this local shop on a Sunday afternoon. The guy shows up in a late model, silver Nissan Altima. He's heavily tattooed, and so is his friend. These guys look like real, OG, Mexican bangers. Like, dude is wearing the blue Nike Cortez's and Dickies. It's That look.

Immediately, I realize these aren't the soft dudes I think they are. They're real gangster, they move real weight, and I'm doing something incredibly stupid. I'm about to rip off two guys who look like they bury people neck deep and let coyotes eat your face off.

But I'm there, and they're in front of me, so I gotta go through with it. So I give them a tour. We walk around the van. It's clean. It has tire shine on it. I've washed it, and even waxed it. It looks as good as a 1979 Dodge can look.

The guy is like, "So you've done some engine work?" I'm like, "Yeah, carb, plug wires, distributor, etc." He's like, "Can I take a look?" So I help him lift the clamshell, and there's no rats nest, it's looking clean-ish... and it's sort silent. So I talk...

"When I got in here, there was a Huge rat's nest. I cleaned that out, then I got to work on the carb, the plugs, wires, belts, hoses. It's all new in there." Then, the dude reaches over, and straight up taps the aluminium brick. I start sweating. He looks at me. I look at him.

The first thing that came out of my mouth was. "I didn't bother redoing any of the heat shielding on the clamshell. Honestly, I prefer having some heating coming off the block in the winter, but I can see why you did it. Southern California is hot."

I was trying so hard to play it dumb as hell, and I sold it. He says back to me, "Yeah, this tape costs about $20 a roll, but it's worth it to beat the heat." I laugh, "Yeah, the AC just barely works. I think you've got a leak in the system somewhere."

Then he throws a curveball at me. "Can I take it for a drive?" I'm like, "Oh totally." He's like, "Do you mind if my friend drives behind me, in case it breaks down?" I say, "Oh you go right ahead." At this point, I'm thinking he's going to drive off, never to be seen again.

He's gone for about 20 minutes, and then he comes back. He's got a big smile on his face, and he's like, "Wow, it still drives great. Let's negotiate." So I'm like, "Well, you did say $6,000?" He comes back at me and he's like, "Well, I gotta ship this van back."

I'm like, "Okay, well... what's a fair price?" He says, "You have the title here in your hands?" I say. "Well, actually, I had to do a lost title But I can mail it to you in like a week." (The reality was I did, but I hadn't done the transfer from the couple yet.)

He's like, "Alright, you know, you seem like a good guy. You can mail it in a week?" I'm like, "Yup." He says, "$5000. Because it'll cost me $1,000 to ship. You're a wild man for driving this old beast as far as you did." So we shake hands. It's a deal.

I have a notepad with me, and I say, "Alright, let me write you up a bill of sale." So I write his name, and my name. His address, and my "address" (a local Ashland address where I definitely have never lived), and the "cost" of the vehicle. This is a funny wrinkle...

I said to the guy, "Hey, I'm going to write on the bill of sale that you only paid $1,000 for the van, so you can avoid paying more taxes in California when you go register it." (You pay taxes on the sale.) He's like, "Oh, thanks. I didn't think of that."

Using the hood to press on, I sign my name, he signs his, and then he's like, "Alright, here's the $5,000. Cash." So he hands reaches into his pocket, and when he does, he moves his shirt in such a way that he obviously exposes a gun in his waistband. He pauses.

As he's handing me the cash, he smiles and says, "Thanks for taking care of my van, Shane. I'm relieved to see you left my heat shielding how it was. There's a lot of value in heat shielding. Some might say it's worth quite a bit." He gets this look in his eyes. It's dark.

He continues. "You seem like a smart guy. Smart guys don't talk about things they find. They might even buy new aluminium tape, but be careless enough to leave the roll in the back seat." My throat turned into a knot. Like, my whole mouth went dry as fuck.

He stares into my fucking soul. Like, Into me, fam. Then he gets this big ass smile on his face grabs me by my shoulder, and he smiles, "If you were even smarter, you would have asked for $10,000." The he starts laughing, and the guy he's with starts laughing.

"You know, you're a hustler Shane. What do you do?" I breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm a web developer." He says, "You could have been a stone cold hustler in another life. I've never been hustled before, but you had the cajones to get your money. I like that."

They hadn't checked to see what was inside the foil. The only knew that I taped it back. So I went with it. "Well, you know. I found it when I was working on the van. I just didn't know how I'd ever sell it, so it's been in my freezer for a year now." He busts up laughing.

"Homey, you kept it in the freezer? That's wild man." So then we just sorta chop it up outside this mechanic's shop for about 20 minutes. He and I had the same taste in rap music. I wanted to just keep him happy. I was trying to think of my exit plan.

Finally, he's like, "Alright, you know I don't want this van, but ship it to me anyway. Here's $5,000. Keep the change." To be clear -- he had give me $5,000 already for the van, and then gave me Another $5,000. I played it cool. "Close enough to $10K." I dapped him up.

As soon as they left the parking lot, I sprinted into the mechanic's office where he was sitting, and he was like, "Son, that was the most obvious drug deal I have ever seen. I already called the police." I felt my heart go from 0 to one million.

Then the mechanic winks at me, and he's like, "I'm just fucking with you. Man, this is Oregon. Everyone smokes weed. Calm down. I didn't call the cops." He sees my face, and he's like, "You should have seen the look on your face." (I wasn't amused.)

The problem was, the clock was ticking. I didn't know when those dudes were going to open the foil and realize I'd just hustled them, so I was like, "Hey, if I give you $200, will you let me keep that van parked here for two days until I can get it shipped?"

He's like, "If it's here longer than two days, I'm gonna charge you. If it stays here, it's mine." So I was like, "That's fine. I'll be back" (I knew at that moment the van was going to belong to him. I was never coming back. Most states have laws for mechanics like that.)

I walked out of the mechanics office, and then walked literally seven miles back to my rental, parked at my little motel. Ashland is a small town, and I had picked the cheapest motel. I wanna say it was like a Super 8 or something?

The road this motel is on is like, pretty long and straight. Like, you could see a full quarter mile down the road, no problem. As I'm about 400 yards away from the entrance, I see a silver Nissan Altima pull in, and go to the front office.

As I walk closer, I see two guys get out, and I realize it's the same guys. They haven't seen me, but we're staying at the same fucking motel. So, I start speed walking. When I check in, it took a while, so I knew I needed to hustle so I wasn't seen.

I took off the flannel I was wearing, so I'd be in a white tank top. I folded the flannel up super small, and walked as fast as someone can walk without looking like a moron. My room was on the back side of the motel, upstairs.

Basically, as soon as I cleared the vision line of the back wall, I went into a full sprint, and ran as fast as I could up the stairs, and into my room. No sooner than the moment I slammed my door, I went over the the drapes, and peeked out. The silver Altima was driving around.

I shit you not, these guys parked two spaces away from my rental car, and their room was Directly below mine. It's a damn cheap hotel, so I could kinda/sorta hear them talking. Not word for word, but definitely the vocal tones, plus their TV.

When I saw I was quiet as a mouse, I mean, I just sat in bed, didn't turn the TV on, didn't move, and when I had to pee, I held it. I was terrified. Then... I heard it.

I heard the guy yell. (start all caps) "Motherfucker! I'm going to fucking kill him!" (end caps) Then I hear them screaming, but it's not clear what they're saying. They yell for like 15 minutes. Then they get quiet. My phone rings. It's a blocked number.

I sent it to voicemail. It rings again. Blocked number. I sent it to voicemail. Then, I hear them yelling a bit more, and then I hear the door downstairs slam. I peek out of the little gap in the drapes, and watch them take off.

As soon as I saw the car clear the corner, I left.

I grabbed my backpack, flew down the stairs, and got into my rental. I was getting the fuck out of Ashland before I got killed. I had been on the road about an hour when the guy calls me again, this time, from his real number. Not a blocked number.

I answered, "Hey M*****, What's up?" He's yelling, (start all caps) "We've got a fucking problem! You need to bring me my money, right now!" (end caps)

I was did what I do, and talked shit-- "I take it you're not a big fan of John Grisham novels. You should really give him a chance before you get angry."

The dude flew off the handle. Like he's just shouting. (start all caps) "Motherfucker I will kill you!" (end caps) over and over, so finally I'm like, M****. Calm down. Just listen. I think we can make a deal here." So he gets a little less on edge. "What's your deal?"

I said, "Look, I know you're staying at the (Whatever) Hotel. We'll meet up there. You show me you've got your gun on the hood of your car so I know I'm safe." He's like, "Okay. And?" I said, "Then, I'll take back The Pelican Brief, wrapped in foil."

"... and then I'll give you what you really want. A Tom Clancy novel. Everyone loves war fiction." He got quiet. He didn't say shit. "I'll fucking murder you, Shane. You robbed me. You fucking die from this." Then he hung up.

In 2017, the guy I ripped off for his brick of heroin was found guilty, with four other guys, of raping and murdering a 13 year old girl. They were all prominent MS-13 gang members. He got LWOP'd in his sentence. So it looks like he won't be killing me.

... and that's the story of the time I bought a van with a brick of heroin in it that belonged to an MS-13 gang member, sold the brick, and then sold him his van back with a wrapped up John Grisham novel, for $10,000. Somehow, I didn't die.

/thread /End IDs]

[callalillywrites]

Professions Guide for All Alphas, Betas, and Omegas

It Takes All Packs to Make It Work Extra

So, procrastination set in hard after I had to handle a kiddo emergency. Poor Alpha!Bucky and the others are getting a small reprieve, but I hope to come back and finish up his part of It Was a Bad Day soon.

In the meantime, I decided to put together a list of each Alpha, Beta, and Omega and their profession within this verse. Some are pretty close to canon (if not canon) and others are more based off vibes the character gives off.

So here we go...

Their Sweet Omega

Jake Jensen = IT Director of a large company; former military

Steve Rogers = Artist (mostly traditional but some digital) - mostly via commissions on website Jake set up for him

Angel = Candlemaker/Small Business Owner

HIs Scarred Omega

Bucky Barnes = Security Director of a large company (not same company as Jake); former military

Precious = Assistant Manager of a small retail store

An Unconventional Pack

Ransom Drysdale = formerly his Trust Fund; high-end fashion stylist assistant

Nick Vaughn = Trumpet player in a popular jazz band

Contessa = CEO of family publishing company

An Alpha's Proposition

Frank Adler = Boat Repairman

Firecracker = EMT/Paramedic

Trusting Another Alpha

Curtis Everett = Lead EMT/Paramedic

Butterfly = Spa receptionist

His Best Friend's Omega

Ari Levinson = Landscaper - owns his own company ; does carpentry in his spare time

Trouble = Mechanic

Runaway Omega

Sam Wilson = School Counselor & Soccer Coach; former military pararescue

Honeybee = Physician's Assistant; former military medic

Falling for the Playboy Alpha

Colin Shea = Private Investigator; plays guitar and sings for band as side gig

Ducky = Software engineer

An Alpha's Second Chance

Dennis Baker = Accountant

Sweetness = Photographer (specialty - boudoir shoots)

[holtmarine]

Holt Marine Now Listed on MyStrikingly | Your Trusted Boat Shop in Brisbane

Holt Marine, your go-to for boat repair, marine mechanics, and Mercury boat motors, is now listed on holtmarine.mystrikingly.com. We offer top-notch boat engine repair, spare parts, and boat service and repair for Brisbane. Visit us for all your marine boat repair needs!

[beard-marine]

Tips To Purchase a Marine A/C in Fort Lauderdale, Stuart, Miami, West Palm Beach, Jupiter, and Key West, FL

Operating a sailboat, a cruise boat, a yacht, or a huge ship can be different. Having the vessel equipped with the best marine A/C in Fort Lauderdale, Stuart, Miami, West Palm Beach, Jupiter, and Key West, FL, is imperative. Indeed, the heat and sultriness are sure to affect the comfort factor of the users, with boats doubling up as tourist vessels have to answer their passengers about the lack of a cooling system. True, a small-sized boat used for fishing or carrying products minimally can make do with a pedestal fan, but the convenience of having the ship fitted with air conditioning can be highly beneficial for business and pleasure equally. ​ Apart from ensuring appropriate coolness within the vessel's interior, the boat AC also has the following benefits:

· High level of comfort · Controlled indoor temperature · Improved air quality · Healthy environment assured · Prevention of mold and mildew · Increased ROI

The market is flooded with many types of air-conditioning systems. It is essential to pick and choose the right system depending on several factors. Sure, achieving the desired comfort level is all-important, but the suitable AC should also be directly related to the size and type of watercraft. A tiny boat that does not carry passengers may go without one, but a cruise ship/boat or luxury yacht must be equipped effectively to add to the comfort and convenience of the users. Some of the most important factors to keep in mind before selecting  the air-conditioning system appropriate for the concerned boat/yacht include the following:-

· Noise Level · Adequate Power · Purchase And Installation Cost · Space Requirements · Type Of Power Supply Available · Spare Parts Availability · After-Sales Service

There are diverse types of air-conditioning systems available for marine use. The following are the most popular and must be selected according to the requirements:

· Portable System- These are affordable and low-cost units that do not require installation. Sure, the purpose remains the same as that of conventional ACs, but the power needed is relatively low, with the cooling appropriate for a single cabin. Single sailors or a couple of people find the system perfect for their cooling needs.

· Self-Contained Units- This is one of the most suitable units for almost all kinds of watercraft. The advanced models come with reduced noise and size, making them appropriate for small and large-sized boats. Moreover, the pre-charged refrigerant makes installation easy, too.

· Split Systems- The equipment consists of two units installed in separate areas and interconnected to ensure smooth operation. Installation is a bit tricky and requires the intervention of a specialized engineer with experience in AC installations. It can be used to cool the entire boat regardless of its size.

· Chiller Systems- These are akin to the Central air-conditioning systems used in residences and commercial properties. The boat must be huge to utilize the chiller system perfectly.

It is essential to check the available brands and models of marine A/C in Fort Lauderdale, Stuart, Miami, West Palm Beach, Jupiter, and Key West, FL, to ensure an informed decision when purchasing it.