#tow rig

[onlyhappyvibes]

Moving patches to a new storage unit

[uras1995]

Goin for some skids

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Something you don't want to see while doing 80 on the interstate

[pouchedmilk]

Today we turned a 4 hour drive into a 13 hour drive :D

[newsonline1]

Heavy Duty Towing | Semi-Truck Towing | Heavy Duty Towing Near Me

When you need towing or roadside assistance for your semi-truck, bus, box truck, RV, or tractor-trailer in Illinois call and ask for heavy duty towing near me.

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. 1?)

— SFW —

I’ll hit it from the back, just so you don’t get attached — i like the way you kiss me // artemas

I can definitely see myself making more of these. Adding to the modern! Davos lore. Not proofread. LMK if y’all have other ideas or headcannons too!

Benjicot Davos Blackwood. People call him Davos. Only close friends call him Ben. Only you can call him Benji. Although, he goes by his middle name usually. Now, bloody Ben? That’s a story to be told later on how he got... (There is no story. It’s just people saying “Shit.. there’s bloody Ben..” or something like that. There’s no violence to the name, only pure exasperation when people see him)

This is the boy you need to hide away in your closet or under your bed when your parents come checking in on you randomly. You could’ve been working on homework, or just hanging around. And somehow this “annoying” guy appeared outside your bedroom window—and you just had to let him in. “C’mooon, let me in sweetheart.. you think I can’t climb up there? Stand back, I’ll show you.”

He is the type of person to rant about how the education system is rigged, set up to fail students, or rant about it in general and as a whole. Anyway he’s got a 4.0, and makes it onto the dean’s list every semester in college. However he is always late to class—complete with either a Monster or Red Bull drink in tow.

He invites you over to his place like a gentleman. Ignore his “annoying fuckass” roommate.. (it’s Aeron.) He does the whole (“it’s a little messy :3”) as he leads you down the hall of their apartment. “Hello MTV, welcome to my crib.”

He cooks at that desk, game-wise. Faceit level is between 5-6. CSGO rank is Master Guardian II (He does tell you he once hit Global Elite. But he stopped the grind to focus on school, not because he’s washed or anything—maybe you could be his Valorant duo? Or be his support in League; he’ll have you know he makes a mean ADC.. do you do overnight discord calls?—)

If you play more casual games (Minecraft, stardew, etc) he will play with you, HOWEVER, he will either ruin the aesthetic of the minecraft world via automated farms OR speedrun the mines in stardew (he passes out so much it starts to affect the money you’re trying to save for farm upgrades). Every time he goes fishing in either game he puts on a country accent and makes “gone fishing, getting away from my bitch wife” jokes. “I’ve uh- carved out an area for the iron farm. Nothin’ too big—just something to get started.” (Shows you an utterly decimated and leveled biome)

Davos Blackwood fun fact no. 43; he does rallying (rally racing). He went to a rally school for fun over the summer. Ignore the price tag; yes he saved up for that! no it’s not dangerous! Regular driving wise he does donuts in empty parking lots, and takes corners way too fast. He is the type to street race a random ass pickup truck or some other car that pulls up beside him. It is thrilling, and he knows you enjoy it too despite your protests and how you grip the handle above the seat. “No it’s fine.. pfft—don’t worry don’t— I’ll smoke him. Just watch.”

Speaking of cars. Do not complain about his car. This is his baby. His one and only. It’s an old car; it’s so old it’s bordering not being considered street safe anymore. Ignore the anime girl stickers with their tits and ass out, that was there already he didn’t do that. “It’s safe don’t worry—I’m getting the bumper and everything fixed like Monday I swear.. no I did not hit anything why would you say that-“

He’s oddly in-tune with his emotions and emotions of others despite appearances. He’ll KNOW if something’s bothering you. Maybe you’re just a little too quiet, you laugh at a joke a little too late or even if it sounds unenthusiastic. Whatever it is, Davos is on the case. A hug, some pep talk, he’ll let you punch his palms to get any anger out. He’s your ride or die, of course he’d do anything for you. And maybe if it’s a person who upset you he might pay them a visit.. “Who was it this time? Oh—that bitch? Ugh. I’m sorry about that… I have a gun just saying—“

Needs your hand in his. Or some part of you touching him. Whatever works. If he does not get a modicum of affection in 5 minute intervals he shrivels up like a plant—no he’s not being dramatic. Is the type to whine loudly about it regardless of where you’re at. On occasion he lets out bloodcurdling screams as a joke, lamenting about being denied tender love from you. You think it’s funny in private, you do not think it’s funny in public. Which is why he always does it in public. “Gimme your hand. Wha? What do you mean ‘it’s too hot out’? I wanna.. I wanna hold your hand… I don’t care if you’re sweaty—LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND”

I do believe his brain would be.. a little rotted. He sends you tiktoks, niche memes, shitposts. He will watch twitch streams or league/csgo content creators on YouTube. His vocab is normal, but does consist of slang from the gaming community. This can be good and funny, or sometimes bad if he uses it during serious moments. However he’s at least a normal human being and knows when to talk ‘normally’. He says joever unironically

Shadow boxes you. No matter what’s happening or where. You could be looking at something in a store and you just see slow, dramatic punches going toward you. He makes the whooshing sound too. This is how you know he’s bored. He’s also the type to tackle you to the bed. Not in a sensual or cutesy way but in like a WWE way that initiates a caged fighting match between you two.

Regardless of your mastery level of skateboarding he will hold your hands and pull you around on his board. Late at night when the parks or lots are empty, you both will be there. And he’ll be a smiling goof as he gently steers you around on the board. He usually says fuck helmets (his one big flaw), but carries one around just for you. His safety be damned. Yours? No question about it, you’re wearing all the gear required.

Smoker. Red flag. Marlboros, sometimes he uses zyns. It’s bad. Yes he knows he’s going to get lung cancer and succumb to nicotine. But he just can’t help it—it helps him relax. It’s why there’s a plethora of gum and also a cologne bottle in his car. Does it help? That’s to be determined. Does not smoke near you however if you don’t like that, he’s not that bad of an asshole.

[bullet-prooflove]

Engine Parts: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis @shakespeareanwannabe

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

The garage is a minefield of memories for Tyler, everything from the song on the sound system to Ford Mustang you’re still working on because it required ‘extensive restoration’. The thing had barely been more than a shell before he’d helped you tow it home. Now all it needs is a little more work on the engine and a new paint job.

Four years is how long you’d estimated it would take to fix up if the two of you worked on it together. Even then you were thinking in the long term, and it turns out he was too.

It’s why he bought that ring when he was passing through Arkansas, the one with three sapphires embedded in the silver band because he was paranoid that any stone that stuck out would get caught when you were wrist deep in engine parts. He’d carried it around for weeks, waiting for the right moment and then it was gone in the blink of an eye, swept away by the harsh winds of the tornado that almost killed you both. He wonders if anyone ever found it, if his misfortune gave way to someone else’s happiness.

When he sees you working there inside the garage, your upper body tucked under the hood, singing along to Zach Bryan’s ‘Sun To Me’  it takes him back to the weekends you spent teaching him how to take apart an engine. His thoughts slip to the evenings sat on the picnic bench out back, sipping beers and staring up at the stars, the nights he spent tangled up in your sheets, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

Time hasn’t dulled any of those memories, in fact it’s sharpened them because Tyler re-lives every detail of your relationship when he’s alone those motel rooms. It’s you he thinks of when he looks in the mirror and sees those scars that linger on his own skin, the ones from the rodeo and the ones that came after.

“Sophie.” He says softly so he doesn’t startle you. “Can we talk?”

You don’t say anything as you use that rag to clean your hands. Instead you open the old refrigerator tucked alongside the work bench and take out two beers, snapping off their caps with the magnetic bottle opener, before drift past him and head towards the picnic table around the back. Tyler follows a step behind, the scent of orange blossoms and motor oil flooding his senses.

“You wanted to talk.” You say as you take a seat on the bench. “So talk.”

He doesn’t know what to say as he sits down, there are so many thoughts, so many feelings riling up inside of him, he finds it difficult to articulate. He should outline the program, tell you the work he’s been up to, explain why they need you on this project but being back here, it fucks with him. It brings back everything he’s spent the past three years trying to shove into a box inside his head.

“You left.” He says abruptly as you raise the beer to your lips and you pause before you set it back down and meet his gaze.

“And you didn’t follow.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess there are somethings that just aren’t worth chasing.”

Your words, they eviscerate him. They cut like a knife into his chest, tearing out his insides until all he can feel is the agony spilling out of him.

“Is that what you think?” He asks you, his voice raw with emotion. “That it didn’t mean anything to me, that you didn’t mean anything to me.”

You don’t answer and he understands in that moment that he fucked up back then, that he’s been fucking up ever since.

“Sophie…” He begins, his hand reaching out for yours. “Something awful happened to you, something traumatic and I was responsible for that. I…” He trails off, his eyes stinging as he gropes for the words. “I thought you needed a clean break, away from me, from the Wranglers.”

“I left because I didn’t want to chase anymore.” You tell him as his thumb strokes over the hollow of your wrist. “I needed to come home and recover, I wanted you to come with me, to take some time away from it so we could do that together but…”

“But I needed to face it.” He says quietly. “Because if I hadn’t I would have never gone back.”

“I can’t go back.” You tell him. “If I do this, I can’t chase. I’m happy to work with your crew, maintain the rigs either here or out there but I’m not heading into the storm with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He tells you, squeezing your hand lightly. “You’d be support only, tailoring the rigs to what we need, ensuring that they can function under intense conditions. Those are the only things that I’d ask of you, I promise.”

It’s his sincerity that convinces you, the intensity in his eyes as he studies your features. He’s willing to try to make this work and you guess you can too because the goal here, it’s so much bigger than the both of you. The project he’s apart of, it saved lives a couple of months ago, it’ll do it again with the right equipment.

“No cameras.” You say as you pull away, your fingers slipping out from underneath his. “You can take videos of the rigs, the workshop, the alterations that have been done. I’ll even coach Dani or Boone to explain it but I don’t want to be camera. It’s taken long enough for the people in this town to get used to the way I look, I don’t need it to be a topic of conversation on the internet.”

His jaw clenches as his eyes linger on the scar. To him it’s a symbol of your resilience, your strength. You took on Mother Nature and you lived to tell the tale. It’s only now that he realises how self-conscious you are, how much of your confidence has been stripped away.

“Alright.” He promises you as he takes a sip of his beer. “No cameras.”

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[steddieasitgoes]

Detours & Second Chances

written for @steddie-week Day 5 prompt: Reunion / Getting Back Together Rating: T | wc: 3545 | no cw Another big thank you to @sidekickjoey and @thefreakandthehair for giving this a beta read for me! Read on ao3

Steve had high hopes for this road trip. 

Just him, the twins, and the wide open roads with the promise of the beach and Disneyland on the horizon. He knew better than to plan it down to the second, especially when traveling with Mabel and Ollie, but he did hope to keep to some kind of schedule. A few nights here, a couple of nights there, a handful of free time hours carved into nearly every day so the kids could pick which tacky roadside attraction they could visit and then gloat to Aunt Robin about seeing. 

What Steve hadn’t planned for was the Winnebago going up in smoke four and a half hours from Disneyland on I-15. 

The good news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada, and not thirty minutes later in the middle of the Nevada-California desert. The bad news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was trying to leave. 

Steve expects the drivers around him to curse and flip him off. At the very least, he imagines them shaking their heads in disapproval as they slowly inch past the smoking Winnebago broken down in the middle of the three-lane highway. And there is some of that, honking horns and judgmental gazes, enough that he has to explain to Mabel and Ollie that showing someone your middle finger is not nice and no you shouldn’t do it to each other. But there’s also a handful of Sunday travelers who take pity on him. 

Two truck drivers manage to get their rigs off onto the shoulder and then mosey their way over to see if they can help Steve identify why the RV is smoking. A woman in a mini-van full of preteens in sports jerseys offers him an entire ice chest full of snacks for Mabel and Ollie. Some good Samaritan even makes the half-mile hike to the nearest pay phone to call for a tow truck so Steve doesn’t have to leave the kids or make the track himself with them following behind him. 

Forty-five minutes later, they all climb into a yellow taxi while Winnie the Winnebago gets towed away. For a moment, he thinks he’s ruined the entire vacation, but listening to Mabel and Ollie talk about how cool it was to watch the “toe man” do his job eases the guilt. 

Unfortunately, the repair shop is nowhere near as exciting as standing in the middle of I-15 — at least, that’s what Ollie tells Steve five minutes after they’ve walked into the garage. Steve tries his best to keep everyone’s spirits up in between filing out paperwork and bargaining with the mechanic over the price of the repairs. He lets the kid raid the vending machine and spread it all out on the worn plastic chairs in the makeshift lobby like some kind of five-star buffet. It’s mainly cookies and chips, a few candy bars, and a granola bar Mabel even generously spent $1.10 on for him. 

It’s not the worst meal they’ve had on the trip — that honor goes to the gas station in Kearney, Nebraska, and the hot dogs he knew were a bad idea — but it’s definitely the least nutritious. And, in hindsight, it’s not the best idea now that Mabel and Ollie are hyped up on sugar in a small space with no central air conditioning. He gets it. He’s almost at his wit’s end, too, and he has several decades of patience over them. 

He’s hot and tired and so frustrated, he’d break down and cry if he could, but he doesn’t want to upset the kids or ruin the day more than it’s already been ruined. Instead, he puts on his brave Dad Face™, leaves his pager number with the mechanic’s receptionist, and takes the kids to explore Las Vegas. 

The city wasn’t on their list. It’s not kid-friendly, and the July heat is anything but welcoming, but thankfully, they luck out and stumble across a hybrid game and music store a few blocks away from the repair shop.

The bell above their door announces their entrance to the quiet storefront as the sweet, sweet relief of the AC hits them. Steve closes his eyes, soaking in the cool air for a moment before Mabel and Ollie are tugging on his hands, trying to drag him in different directions. 

Steve knows he should put an end to their bickering that borders on full-on sibling bullying, especially judging by the way they’ve dropped his hand in favor of pinching each other’s arms, but he gets distracted when a figure emerges from the back of the shop. 

The footsteps are uneven, which makes sense when an ornate cane enters Steve’s line of sight. He studies it, taking in the impressive woodwork and paint job — Max’s own can is pretty spectacular, but this one is a close second. Soon, his eyes drift from the cane to the hand holding it, a ring on each finger. Silver and gaudy and eerily similar to—

“Holy shit,” the voice says. “Are my eyes giving out on me too, or is Steve Harrington really standing in my shop right now?” 

Steve’s eyes shoot up to meet the man’s face — to meet Eddie’s face. It’s been years, shit, almost a decade he thinks, but Eddie looks the same. Older, sure. A few wrinkles around his eyes and a softer belly. But he’s still him. Unruly curls barely contained in a bun at the base of his neck, mischievous eyes, and a smile that makes Steve’s stomach flip in a way it hasn’t done in too long. Yup, definitely him.

“Eddie?”

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back with the same carelessness as he had at twenty years old. Only this time, when he rights himself, he has to reach a hand up to his neck to massage the ache. “Man, this is some cosmic, universe shit!” 

“At least it’s the good kind this time,” Steve jokes. 

Eddie goes for a full-on hug, Steve an awkward side one, and as a result, they end up with their bodies smushed against each other, arms pinned between each other in the world’s worst hug of all time. But it’s also the greatest, as far as Steve’s concerned. 

When they separate, Eddie gives Steve a quick once-over before shaking his head again. “So, what brings you all the way to Sin City?” 

“A family road trip.” 

“Ah, so the six nuggets and a Winnebago dream came true, then?” Eddie muses. 

“More like two nuggets, a piece of shit rental that’s in a repair shop after crapping out on me on I-15, and a co-pilot that doubles as my son’s emotional support stuffed animal,” Steve says, then smiles. “But I can’t complain.” 

“Wheeler never jumped on the Harrington Express?” 

Steve’s interrupted by Ollie running at him with a vinyl record thrust above his head. Mabel appears a moment later, holding a giant box in her arms that’s clearly too heavy for her. She passes it to Steve, who hands it over to Eddie, who has taken refuge behind the glass counter. As soon as the kids appear, they’re gone again. Steve shouts after them to stay together and not to touch anything. It goes in one ear and out the other if the loud crash that follows a moment later is anything to go off of. Steve winces and looks at Eddie apologetically. 

“I promise I’ll pay for whatever they break. They’re a little stir-crazy from being stuck at the repair shop all day.” 

Eddie doesn’t look worried about it in the slightest. In fact, Steve’s willing to bet he didn’t even hear the crash, judging by the fond look on his face. It’s a soft smile, almost bittersweet if he had to put a name to it. It looks out of place on his face — almost too earnest, which makes no sense because Eddie is the most earnest guy Steve’s ever known. 

“Eddie?” 

“Huh, what?” Eddie blinks himself back to the present. When he shakes his head, the elastic holding his hair back snaps, sending his curls cascading down to his shoulders. It’s easy now to see the hints of gray peppered into the locks that used to keep Steve up at night — occasionally still keeps him up. 

Steve gestures toward the row where Mabel and Ollie are frantically trying to restack things on the shelves. This time, Eddie snorts and meets Steve's gaze with that familiar crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about them. S’just boxes and shit.” 

Steve nods and then grabs a pen out of the cup on the glass counter. He twirls it between his fingers, something about the rhythmic motion calming the silly nerves running wild in his body right now. 

It’s just Eddie. 

“Nance would kill you for even thinking she’s a part of this circus,” Steve says, then panics. “To answer your question from before. No misses at all actually. Or misters either,” Steve says before he chickens out. 

Eddie left before he realized that little fun fact about himself. It was ironic (and tragic), considering he’s the reason Steve even realized it to begin with. Chalk it up to cosmic, universe shit — the bad kind that time. 

“Cause that could be an option to, you know. Obviously you know, but it’s an option for me too in case you didn’t know and—“

“Woah, breathe, Steve.” 

Steve takes a slow, deep inhale. His exhale is strong enough to send a few of Eddie’s stray curls fluttering before settling back amongst the rest. “Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing!” Eddie throws his hand across the counter, squeezing Steve’s wrist, 

It’s silly, but something about the simple touch relaxes the nervous energy that’s taken over him ever since Eddie emerged from the back. A part of Steve wants to blame the relief on the touch, but he knows better. Knows it has everything to do with finally telling Eddie about this part of him he helped him discover. 

Steve’s been out to just about everyone he cares about, and now he’s certain he’s told them all. 

“So no misses or misters,” Eddie says, before hiding his growing smile behind a curl. “What about Buckley? Is she on the great American family road trip with you?” 

“Robin refuses to get into Winnebagos after, well, you know.” 

“Can’t say I blame her for that one.” 

“It’s just me and the kids. Mabel and Ollie. They’re my kids…I mean, well, obviously, they’re mine, and anyone who says they’re not are fucking idiots, but they’re not blood mine or whatever people say.” Christ, he’s rambling again. “I adopted them. Actually, I was supposed to be their temporary foster parent. I was in my second year as a social worker, and they were two and six months old when they came in the middle of a Saturday night and we had no one on standby. They came home with me, and then they just never left.” 

Somewhere in his rambling, Eddie made himself comfortable, pillowing his chin on his hands, elbows sinking into the giant mouse pad that’s stretched out on top of the glass counter. He’s dropped the curl, his bright smile on full display, dimple, and everything when he looks at Steve now. 

“I love a good foster fail story,” he cooed. “I have a few myself. Fosters that turned into full-on adoptions. I mean not human kids, cats. And a few dogs. Even a bird. But they’re my kids, you know. I mean, not that what you did is the same thing as me or anything, but I… I’m just going to stop talking now.”

This time, it’s Steve's hand that breaks the barrier between them, reaching out to pat Eddie on the shoulder. A reassuring thing that he hopes conveys that he’s not offended. Just in case, he spells it out for him verbally too. 

“I get it. Kids mean a lot of things to different people. If you say they’re your kids, they’re your kids,” he says, smiling. “Robin has a plant, Ferguson. When she first got it she carried it around in Ollie’s baby bjorn because she needed to ‘bond’ with it.” 

Eddie laughs, this time hard enough that the case between them vibrates. “Lesbians, and their plants, man.” 

“She rescued it from her ex, who was drowning it.” 

“We’re just all patron saints of lost things, aren’t we?” 

“Guess so.” Steve smiles, then adjusts his own stance so he’s leaning against the counter. Something pops in his back, and for once, he doesn’t make an excuse. Eddie knows all about their aches and pains — the way their bodies are thirty years older than they should be, thanks to their teenage years. He runs a steady hand through his hair, hoping beyond hope that it’s not as greasy as it feels and then turns his attention to Eddie. “What about you? Game and record store sounds like a pretty sweet deal.” 

Eddie blows out air in a whoosh and reaches for another curl. “I mean, yeah, it’s pretty cool. Closest I could get to being a rockstar, I guess.” 

“Do you still play?” 

“Occasionally. There’s a dive bar a few streets over that I perform sometimes. No band, though. At least, not yet. I’m giving myself a few more years; let the gray really come in,” Eddie says, fluffing his curls. “And then I’ll join one of those mid-life crisis dad bands.” 

“Solid plan.” He fiddles with the pen again, contemplating if he should ask what he wants, too. Screw it. Who knows when he’s going to see Eddie again — if it’ll ever happen again. It’s best not to leave anything on the table. “What about a partner?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, pointing to himself before laughing. “Nope. No partner. No lovers either, really. It’s just me and the petting zoo. And Wayne, when the old man makes the trip out to visit me.” 

Eddie being alone all these years shouldn’t make Steve happy. He should want him to be settled by now, grossly in love with someone who makes him feel special like he deserves. But Steve’s heart is a traitor, and his brain is no better, already imagining ten different ways he could change that. 

Had he known Eddie’s been in Vegas alone all this time, he would have visited a lot sooner. Hell, he would have made this their final destination — he’s sure he could find something family-friendly here for Mabel and Ollie. There’s a lake around here or some shit, right? They could have—

“Shit,” Steve says, reaching for his beeping pager. The repair shop number appears on the small screen. “Could I borrow your phone? This is the repair shop.” 

“I suppose I could make an exception on my no-customers rule,” Eddie teases. “Phones in my office, straight back there.” 

Steve nods and rounds the counter towards the backroom but stops short. The kids. He almost forgot about the kids. “Do you mind keeping an eye on them?” Steve asks, tilting his head to Mabel and Ollie who have finally picked up the mess they created. 

“Of course! Don’t worry about them. I’m great with kids.” 

“I remember.” 

___

Eddie’s office isn’t unlike his teenage bedroom Steve spent many nights in. It has his typical brand of messiness but with an added layer of professionalism. Like, there’s an honest-to-God filing cabinet in the corner, but next to it is a three-foot-tall Yoda statue.  Papers lay haphazardly on the desk beside a calculator. 

There are posters all over the walls — some Steve recognizes, some he doesn’t — and endless photographs in mismatched frames. At least three wallet-sized frames with pictures of his pets — kids — sit on the desk. There’s one of Wayne and Eddie on his graduation day on the bookshelfnbeside photos of him with Dustin and some of the other kids over the years. 

He even spots himself amongst the familiar faces — a polaroid they took one summer in Hawkins. It feels like a lifetime ago, but a part of Steve remembers what it was like to have Eddie’s arm slung around him like that with the sun beating down their faces, causing them to squint in the photo because Jonathan refused to shoot directly into the sunlight. 

Steve gives himself another second to soak in Eddie’s office, searching for any other details he can find to fill in the years he’s missed — a pride flag draped over a chair, his business license framed on the wall, packs of half-used nicotine gum instead of cartons of cigarettes. Finally, he makes it to the phone and punches in the number of the repair shop. 

___

When Steve resurfaced twenty minutes later, the neon “open” sign that flickered in the window had been shut off. Eddie’s abandoned his post behind the counter, taking up space at a table in the game section of the store. Mabel and Ollie are sitting on either side of him, listening intently with wide eyes as he moves two figures across a board toward a hoard of waiting miniature figures. 

“I leave you for twenty minutes, and you’re already corrupting them with your nerd games?” Steve teases, ruffling both Mabel and Ollie’s hair in the process. 

Eddie scoffs. “You expect me to believe Dustin hasn’t put them through D&D boot camp yet? Please.” 

“Your stories are nothing like Dustin’s,” Ollie says, voice full of awe. 

“Yeah, he always wants to skip the fun adventure stuff and get straight to the battles,” Mabel chimes in. “That's why we like it when Daddy gets to be in charge.” 

Eddie’s head swivels so fast that the irrational part of Steve’s brain fears it’s going to fly right off. “You DM for them?” 

 “I wouldn’t call it Dungeon Master-ing,” Steve says, grabbing the back of his neck. The room feels ten times hotter all of a sudden. The AC must have shut off, he reasons. There’s no other explanation for his sudden flush. Not at all. “I really just make sh— stuff up.” 

“He’s the best make-believer! You should play with us sometime. Like tonight!” 

“Mabel, Eddie’s busy running this store; he can’t just stop to play with you. And besides, we have to get going soon.” 

“They fixed Winnie?” Ollie asks, jumping up from his seat. 

Steve sighs. “Not yet. That’s why we have to leave. I need to find somewhere for us to sleep tonight that’s—

“—I have a guest room.”

Steve blinks. Is Eddie offering his place to them? His hearing may be spotty lately, but he’s never imagined entire phrases before. Which means—

“I mean if you want,” Eddie says sheepishly this time. “I have a hoard of kittens running around right now, so if you’re allergic, it might not be the best place but—“

“Kittens!” Mabel squeals before rapidly asking Eddie a hundred questions about them, but he doesn’t stand a chance of answering. 

“Can’t we stay at his house, Daddy?” 

“I really do have a spare bedroom and bathroom. Plus, a couch and a semi-stocked fridge. And I wouldn’t charge you. The hotels around here are going to sense your need and charge you an arm and a leg, trust me.”

Steve would be stupid to turn it down. A free stay in an actual house. A meal he can cook with his own two hands that don’t involve a shitty stove that gives out after a few minutes. Not to mention, a shower with actual hot water. 

Plus, it comes with the added bonus of a few more hours with Eddie. Yeah, there’s not a chance in hell he’s turning that down. Not again. 

“Alright, yeah. Let’s do it.” Mabel and Ollie shout in excitement, spinning around the table. Eddie might not have the same energy level as them to join them, but his smile says it all. 

“It’ll be just like old times.” 

“Wait! You guys know each other?”

Steve laughs first, but soon Eddie’s cackle joins him and it really does feel like old times again. “Of course, I know him. What? You think I would let us stay in a stranger’s house? Don’t you know me at all?” 

___

Three days later, Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Winnie the Winnebago as she makes her grand return to I-15. When he glances over his shoulder as the traffic crawls for miles in front of him, he spots Mabel and Ollie throwing Fruit Loops at each other to see who can catch the most in their mouth. And when he looks to his right, Eddie’s there — feet up on the dash, hands protectively clutching Ollie’s teddy bear as if he’s hoping it offers him the same comfort it does for the six-year-old — handsome as ever.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be back in one of these,” he says fondly. “Especially not with you behind the wheel.” 

“Really?” Steve lets the corners of his lips twitch upward. Doesn’t try to fight the blush he knows is creeping across his cheeks. “‘Cause this is all I’ve thought about for years.” 

[humanoidhistory]

Space Shuttle Challenger towed by a custom-made big rig through Lancaster, California, July 1982. Photo by George R. Fry.

(UCLA)

[onlyhappyvibes]

Brother slid in to my truck on his trike 😓🙄

[hanniebaeee]

Taste of Love

Lee Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, cravings

Genre: strangers to lovers, soulmates au, fluff

Summary: You have been craving so many random things recently. Your best friend Mila is a believer of the soulmates theory - everyone has their own way of meeting theirs. Mila thinks yours will be through food.

You wake up in the middle of the night, craving an extra cheesy pizza. This has been happening too often lately. Craving very specific things, in the most inappropriate of times.

Your best friend Mila believes in soulmates. A lot of people do. And she keeps saying its because your soulmate must be having some very interesting food out there. Hence the craving. You hardly believed any of it. If this was actually true, why didn't this craving thing happen before? Why now all of a sudden?

Mila had a theory for that too. It's because these things get stronger and stronger and unbearably so, when they're really close and your first glimpse of them is just around the corner.

But, what does it have anything to do with love?!, you thought. Well, here you are, craving hotdogs and crab and rice cakes in class or late at night.

One night, things got so difficult, you were literally in tears.

'But I need to have a wrap right now! Like RIGHT NOW!!' You wail.

'This is fucking insane. If I ever find that guy of yours,  I'm going to fucking murder him!' Mila cried. 'It's fucking 2:30 am, Y/N.'

'Please!' you begged. 'I'll owe you. Please.'

'Fine fine!' Mila sighed, searching what place was open at this ungodly hour.

She found a little shop that was open and quickly grabbed her car keys. Throwing on jackets above your pyjamas, you set off to find this restaurant.

'I never knew of this place before.' Mila said,  pulling in at the parking lot.

You didn't care. You just wanted to eat. You were at the counter and saw the menu held way too many wraps. You hadn't eaten any of them before and you were nervous seeing all the options.

'So?' Mila asked. 'What's it gonna be?'

You bite your lip, feeling totally stupid. You had no idea what you wanted, but it felt like your body would shut down if you didn't eat that fucking wrap.

'I don't know!' You wail, looking around.

'What the hell do you mean, you don't know?!' Mila asked with narrowed eyes, giving you a sharp glare.

Your eyes fell on two men sitting at a table near the window. The third man, with a wrap in hand stood beside them, chewing away. He seemed to be enjoying his meal, his tongue peeping out to pick up the extra sauce from his bottom lip.

'That.' You said looking at him.

'What?' Mila asked, eyeing them. 'Y/N?'

Your feet were already taking you to him, with a helpless Mila in tow.

'Hi.' You said with an embarrassed smile.

The blond haired man looked at you with his mouth full of food. He swallowed quickly and said, 'Sorry, hi?'

'May I ask, what are you eating?' You asked, hoping you didn't look as crazy as you felt.

You felt Mila's right grip on your arm. You were usually a very socially awkward person and would never talk to people unless it was absolutely necessary. And so, you didn't know why this was happening.

The man gave you the name, and you almost dashed to the counter to order your food. Mila (and the guy) watched in amusement as you took a bite and let out the most satisfied moan.

'Wow. That was some craving.' Mila said, sipping her drink. 'I think it's him. Either that or you're magically pregnant and didn't even know.'

'What?' You asked through a mouthful. 'Who?'

'Don't you see? We never knew of this place! Yet we came! And you had to eat what HE was having! It all fits!'

You stared at Mila, dumbfound. You turned to the boys slowly, looking at the particular guy. He was tall and lean, with the most playful smile you've ever seen. His beautiful honey skin was sprinkled with just the right amount of freckles.

As if he sensed your eyes on him, he looked at you and smiled. Shooting him a nervous smile, you turned back, chewing frantically. Mila can't be right!

'You stop it with your soulmate thing, OK? It doesn't exist!' You scold Mila, who just scoffed at you.

'Whatever, Y/N, but I KNOW it's Wrap-Boy.' she said with a giggle.

They left before you did, and the freckled man gave you a quick wink on his way out. You hated to even think Mila's concept was real, but he set your heart racing. You wouldn't mind if he was indeed your soulmate. He was gorgeous. You turned back to your food once they left,  the fact that you may never see him again sinking in.

'How about these ones?' You said, pointing at a tray of pretty powder pink macarons.

'They look so good!' Mila said, asking for two of them to taste. You were in and out of bakeries the whole day, tasting macarons. Mila wanted the perfect ones for her sisters baby shower. You ended up trying so many flavours from so many bakeries, you thought you would throw up with another bite.

You sigh as Mila tested one. Her face went through an array of expressions as she chewed. You glanced around the bakery, taking in all the other yummy treats as the door to the bakery opened making the little bell above the door jingle. Turning around to look casually, you freeze. No way.

The person walking in was wearing a simple light blue shirt and jeans, his long blond hair in a bun. Looking as good as he did that night, only brighter, literally glowing in the daylight. If anything was different, it would be the look of distress on his face.

Mila noticed your sudden change, and followed your line of vision and said, 'Wrap-Boy!'

He went straight to the counter and said, 'I would like some macarons please.'

You stood staring, your body feeling hot and cold all at the same time.

'Macarons!!' Mila squealed in delight. 'I told you!'

You felt your cheeks heat up as the few customers in the shop stared at you and Mila. More than anything,  he was staring at you.

'Why, Mila.' You whispered, wilting with embarrassment. 'Why?'

He made his way towards you, and said, 'You're -'

'Yeah, hi.' That was all you could manage to say. You both look at each other, a blushing stuttering mess.

His eyes bore into yours as he tried to study your face. There was a warm familiarity that you weren't able to ignore.

'What macaron is that?' he asked, eyeing the paper plate in your hand.

'Would you like to try?' You asked, giving him your untouched plate.

Eyes still on yours, he munched on the goodie a smile spreading on his face.

'This is amazing' he said, his deep voice setting your heart on fire.

Mila looked so happy, she could've cried. She placed an order for the exact same macarons and said, 'Can I ask you something. Just for research purposes.'

'Mila.' You said in a warning tone.

'Did you have an unbearable craving for macarons?' Mila asked innocently, ignoring you completely.

'Mila, come on!' You said, shaking your head. She could be weird with you, ok. But not with this achingly handsome stranger!

'I did!' said Wrap-Boy with wide eyes. 'How did you know?!'

'Oh, just a hunch.' Mila said, smugly. Then she passed on a small box of macroons to him.

'Oh no, you don't have to. I'm good, Thanks.' he said, shaking his head, cheeks turning pink.

'Please, you'll need them today.' Mila said and you feel your whole body blaze with heat.

He gave you both a questioning look.

'Will it be really weird if I invite you to my sister's baby shower? Like, it's also her birthday, so technically, it's a birthday party, with a surprise baby shower. Would it be weird? Will you come?' Mila asked, like it's the most normal thing to do.

'Um.' he looked absolutely lost. 'I mean, we don't even know each other. So, won't that be weird?' He asked, eyes moving from you to Mila, back to you.

'Mila, darling, what the hell are you doing?' You ask, giving him an apologetic look. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Oh no, please, there's nothing to be-' Mila cut him off quickly saying, 'We can solve that problem. I'm Mila. This is Y/N. You are?'

'I'm Felix.' He said. 'I'm sorry, is there something going on here? Or do you always invite strangers to your parties?'

'My dear Felix, I'm trying to test a theory, here.' Mila started. 'Gimmie a chance yeah?'

Felix laughed. A beautiful deep laugh you didn't expect. He was an angel with the voice of a demon. Your eyes land on his pretty plump lips, oh, he was so so pretty! You didn't know if you were simply biased at this point.

'And since we are no longer strangers, you will have to come to my party. You can be Y/N's date.'

He looks at you, no longer protesting.

'Is that ok?' He asked.

Every time your eyes meet, you're a little bit more fond of his little freckles and that kind smile.

'Yeah, ok.' You said and Mila is so happy, like as if you said yes to marrying him.

'But for Y/N's sake, I hope you're not a serial killer or a -' Mila gave him a sheepish smile.

'Me? Oh no. No, I'm not.' He laughed.

'So what are you?' Mila asked.

'I'm a musician. I have a little band and things back in Seoul.' He said smiling.

'Oh wow. Really? You're a celebrity?!' Mila squeaked.

He just looked embarrassed now.

'Oh no, nothing like that.' He said, blushing. And the look on Mila's face made him ask, 'You're gonna Google me, aren't you?'

'Am I that obvious?' Mila asked with a laugh.

Felix laughed too, and you were lost in that beautiful sound.

You meet Felix near Mila's sister's house and go in together. Mila's sister was just like Mila, welcoming Felix to the party like she had known for years now. You just smile, knowing that Felix just made two best friends for life.

You were on the quieter side, hanging back, watching everyone and mostly being part of a conversation only when you didn't have to initiate it. Felix caught on immediately and then, he didn't leave your side at all. You were embarassed and you tried to tell him that it was alright, but he wouldn't have it.

'I'm your date. Can't leave you. You know?' He said with a shrug.

You had a permanent blush on your face, trying not to show how much his presence had you worked up. After a while, he asked, 'So, are you gonna tell me what I'm doing here?'

'What?' You asked, you heart thumping away.

'Darling, I know something is going on. That day at the restaurant? Then the bakery? There is something. Isn't there?'

'Felix, Mila can be silly sometimes-' You try to dismiss it, but Felix just raised an eyebrow, giving you a look. 'I'm sorry you had to come. And I'm sorry if you're bored. You can leave whenever you want.'

'Y/N, I'm not bored. At all. I like talking to you. Besides, I wouldn't have come if I really didn't want to. I just know that you two are up to something. And it has something to do with me.' Felix said and you felt guilty.

Mila came by to your rescue just then, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

'Come on, we're gonna cut the cake now.' Mila said, taking your hand and Felix's, and leading you into the crowd. You did your best to not be left alone with Felix again. By the end of the day, when Felix was ready to leave, you were sad again. What if this was really the last time you saw him?

Felix found himself unable to look away from you. He thought you were so pretty, and he loved how shy you were. And he didn't want to leave you. He would have to go back to Seoul in a couple of weeks and he didn't know when he could come back next. So he mustered all his courage and asked you for your number.

You froze for a moment before nodding yes and holding out your hand. He placed his phone in your hand with a grin and watched as you save your number in his phone. He gave you a ring so you could save his number as well and then you went your separate ways.

'Heyy, I got the pictures from the party!' Mila announced, walking into your room. 'I'll send them to you. Please share them with Felix yeah? He said he wanted them.'

You look through the pictures and smile as you come across a few of you and Felix. He looked so cute in pink. And your pictures together looked so good. You sent him some and he texted back almost immediately.

Felix: These are great!

Felix: Thanks for sending them, Y/N

Y/N: No problem😊

Y/N: How are you, Felix?

Felix: I'm good, thanks. You?

Y/N: I'm good too

Y/N: Are you still here? Or back home?

Felix: I have a week left before I leave

You really wished that you had the courage to tell him how much you liked him. True that you didn't know him at all, but isn't love strange?

Felix: Y/N?

You look down at your phone, realizing that you had left him on read.

Y/N: Sorry, something came up

Felix: Busy I see

Y/N: Not really

Y/N: Just hungry I guess

Felix: You know what, I'm hungry too

Felix: Let's go get some dinner. If that's ok?

You stare at your phone before screaming. Mila had the fright of her life, and came running into your room. You push your phone to her and she screams in excitement.

'Say yes. SAY YES!' She said, eyes glowing.

Y/N: Sure. Let's do it.

Felix: Great! I'll come pick you up. We'll decide something on the way.

Y/N: Ok

Felix: See you in an hour?

Y/N: Sounds good👍

You were way too nervous. Mila helped you get ready and Felix was at your doorstep with a bouquet of pink tulips.

'Hello beautiful.' He said sweetly, making you combust on the spot.

'Hello Felix.' You said with a smile, accepting the flowers and inviting him in. You walk into the kitchen to find a vase to place the flowers in. When you come out, you find Mila and Felix in a conversation. Felix was frowning a bit, but seeing you, he smiled again.

'Take care of my Y/N, got it? I'm just lending her to you for a few hours.' Mila said, squeezing you in a hug. 'You have a good time, ok?'

'Yes, ma'am.' Felix said with a grin and you both leave.

'So, what are we having?' Felix asked. 'Any favorites?'

You weren't in the mood for anything fancy so you decide on a pasta place that you have been wanting to try for a while. You both order a few different things and share. Felix was so sweet and caring, it didn't feel like you had just met.

He had even called his bandmates and introduced you to them all, and they were so excited to talk to you. It warmed your heart so much that thinking about him leaving in just another week made your heart sink.

'So, if you leave, when do you get to visit again?' You asked, trying not to sound too heartbroken.

'I try to come whenever I get the time. We usually don't get long vacations. Just a week or two every now and then.' Felix said.

Your heart breaks when he drops you home, tells you how much fun he had and he will miss you when he has to go back. Your voice shakes when you tell him that you'll miss him too. He lingers for a moment,then places a quick peck on your cheek before walking away.

You are sad and frustrated and everything else in between for the next two days. And then you are craving again. Such intense cravings at that. This made you angry. You are sobbing in your room when Mila finds you. Wiping your tears with the sleeve of your top, you look at her.

'I'm fine. Ok? Just fine.' You said, standing up. Quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a jacket, you decide to go out.

'Where are you going Y/N?' Mila asked.

'Out.' You said. 'I think I'll fall dead if I don't eat some brownies right fucking now.'

'Brownies?' Mila asked.

You just hum in response and grab your purse to head out. You were pulling on your shoes when you heard the doorbell. You open the door and see Felix smiling at you. This would probably be the most pleasant sight you've ever laid your eyes upon.

'Felix, hi.' You said, stepping aside to let him in. His smile falters when he sees your teary eyes.

'Y/N, we're you crying? Are you ok?' He asked, stepping closer to you, his worry evident on his face.

'I'm ok, I'm sorry. I am not -' you stuttered, eyes filling up again. 'Why don't you sit and talk to Mila. I will be back in a minute, ok?'

'Where are you going?' He asked, looking around for Mila.

'I have this crazy craving for brownies. I've been craving them since the morning. I NEED some. I can't explain this, ok. I'll just be quick.' You said, but quickly fell silent as Felix held out a box to you.

'You were craving brownies?' He said in a small voice, like he was finding it difficult to believe. His eyes drifted past you to Mila and back to you.

'What's this?' You ask and he opens the box for you.

You're silent again, staring at the brownies he got you.

'I've been making them with my sisters all morning.' He said. 'I wanted to bring some for you earlier, but -'

He watched as you took the box from him.

'You made these?' You asked, tears blurring your vision.

'Yeah, I did.' He said and he looks nervous as you take a bite. Then you are crying. Felix makes a bold move and puts his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you cried.

'Tell me this is real. I'll believe you.' You cry. 'I've been feeling like an idiot, craving things I've never even tried before. And then you're here and I don't know what's happening.'

'Baby, please don't cry.' Felix said, rocking you gently in his arms. 'I want to believe it's true, too. I didn't when Mila told me. But it's a little too much of a coincidence, yeah? And I really don't care if it's true or not, 'coz I know I like you. I want to give us a try.'

'You're leaving. What happens then?' You asked, tears streaming down your tired face.

'Sweetheart, we can figure it out. Ok?' Felix said softly. 'I promise we will. Can you please stop crying now?'

You wipe your tears away, and take a good look at him.

'Y/N. I'm sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.' Mila said sadly. 'I feel so stupid! I never really stopped believing in my grandma's stories. I-I'm sorry if I confused you.'

'No. No, don't.' You say, hugging your friend. 'I'm not mad at you ok? I just want to know if it's real.'

The restaurant was so pretty, lit with a golden glow of the yellow lights and it was so peaceful. You sat with Felix on one side and Mila on the other. You couldn't keep the smile off your face as Felix held your hand in his under the table. It felt so childish, but also so so romantic.

Mila was ranting on about something, but no one was actually listening. You and Felix just shared timid glances and smiled so much. His fingers intertwined with your, his thumb rubbing at your skin gently. You loved it.

And then all of a sudden, Mila yelled. You watch as she holds up her hand and a little red mark begins to spread on the smooth skin of her wrist.

'What the hell?!' Felix said, looking at the mark that had magically appeared on her hand.

'Is that a rash? Are you feeling ok?' You asked, examining the mark.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was wearing a black apron and was holding his right hand up.

'Soobin! I burnt my hand! Where's the first aid box?' The man called out, and the three of you stare at the red burn mark on his wrist. The exact replica of Mila's mark.

Mila puts her hand over her mouth, staring at the man. You look at Felix, before covering your mouth with both hands.

'It's true?! It's actually true?!' You cry out.

'What?!' Mila squeals, before standing up and hugging you over the table.

The man in the apron is now staring at you all, and you sit down, blushing.

'Is he my soulmate?! Am I gonna get injured every time HE does?!' Mila whisper screams.

'What?!' Felix joins in.

'Oh my god! You get the food and I get the pain?! So unfair!' Mila wailed, making you roll your eyes.

'You should be thankful that you have a soulmate with your level of psycho.' You said and Mila swats you across the table with her napkin.

'Calm down ladies, he's coming over.' Felix informed you and both of you sit back.

'Sorry about that. Are you guys ready to order yet?' He asked, bringing out a little tablet from his pocket.

Mila and you are studying the man closely as Felix placed your orders. He steps back after Felix hands the menu over.

'I want to ask him his name!' Mila said. 'I mean, I should right?'

'Why didn't you just ask him? You didn't mind ambushing me at all.' Felix said.

'Hey, you're not my soulmate. But he's potentially mine.' Mila said. 'I have to be careful.'

Just then, the guy was back and he seemed a bit embarrassed, but he asked, 'Aren't you Felix? I'm sorry, I had to ask.'

'Yeah, I am. Hi.' Felix said, blushing, but standing up and shaking hands with the guy.

'Oh wow! I'm Yeonjun. I've heard your music-'

'Yeonjun!' You mouthed to Mila who was absolutely, lost in him.

A few months later:

You wait, nervous and excited all at the same time. Even though you spoke every single day he was away, the thought of having him in front of you was overwhelming.

'I am so nervous, Mila, I can't even breathe.' You complain.

'Don't worry, that look on his face says he's not planning to let you breathe anyway.' Mila laughs before getting off the car. You watch as Yeonjun, who was leaning against the car waves and hugs Felix before taking his backpack from him. Felix then hugs Mila before getting into the car.

You freeze as you watch him get his mask off and then yours away. Then pulling you onto his lap, he kissed you. Months of not being able to touch you or kiss you had him craving you.

'I missed you so much.' He mumbled against your lips.

'I missed you too, baby.' You said, kissing him again.

When you were both satisfied for the moment, Yeonjun and Mila joins you in the car.

'So, what next?'

'Let's go to that wrap place.' Felix suggested. 'You haven't been there, have you Yeonjun?'

'Nope' said Yeonjun, starting the car.

And that's where you went. Where it all started.

[charminglyantiquated]

Nautilus update! I’ve written more in-depth about all of this on the gofundme page and our social media, so I won’t get into the nitty gritty detail here as well, but I wanted to share the news here, for anyone wondering how things are going! Under a cut because it’s long, but tl:dr is we're moving forward, and we'll be okay.

Good news first: The owner of another local sailing company had put one of their boats up for sale the same week as the accident, and after the surveyors told us to expect the worst, he got in touch. She’s now ours, and we’ll be sailing again next summer! We were lucky enough to work on her in the past, and her previous owner wanted has told us he’d initially meant to offer her to us at the end of this season. With a working boat, we can keep our company going, which in turn means we have a means of making money that still allows us the flexibility to work on repairs, and deal with matters in the shipyard as they arise. (The marina also had a multi-year wait for commercial boats, so we were worried about what would happen if we had to bow out for a few years!) We're extraordinarily lucky and so, so grateful - this literally would not have been possible without the fundraiser, and the safety net it gave us, and the way our whole community has supported us. Without exaggeration, it changed our lives. I will never be able to fully express how grateful I am.

Nautilus is written off as a loss, which we've been expecting. They offered us the chance to buy her as salvage, which we obviously accepted. So insurance wrote us a payout for what she’s insured for, plus reimbursement for getting her hauled and towed, less the value of her as salvage. Because she’s a loss, we have to pay off the loan that we took out this spring to buy her. After that's done, we'll have enough left over from the payout check to launch the new boat next spring (insurance/marina fees/haul and tow) which in turn leaves us free to use the proceeds of the fundraiser to make a start on repairs this winter! In the meantime our insurance is pursuing subrogation: essentially (as I understand it) after paying us out of their pocket, they are going after the other insurance for reimbursement. If we do see any lost income, it would be through this process, but we’ve been told several times it will take months - we don’t know if that means ‘december’ or ‘next august’, and don’t know how much, so we’re crossing our fingers but not making any plans around it. The crisis point was these last two months, and honestly the fundraiser got us through it - now we have our feet under us again, it would definitely be welcome but our stability and livelihood isn't hanging on it, so we can afford to wait.

Repairs - rough estimate from the survey is $83k, but half of that is labor costs. We can do much of the labor ourselves, which should lower it a bit. There are obviously areas where we'll need experts (welding!!), but we have the skills for a lot of what has to be done. Right now we’re getting the boats covered for cold weather, picking up some odd jobs around the shipyard, and clearing room in the woodshop to build a new main mast - that’s the project this winter! We are also going to start tearing up the teak deck to access the damaged fiberglass below, and figure out what, if anything, can be salvaged from the wreck of the mast/rigging (the jib furler sheared in half, but the sail itself made it out with only four small, easily patched punctures! Which is frankly a miracle, given how it was literally jammed through the mast). Anything that seems sound will be checked over by an expert, and a lot of it might still be too stressed to safely use, but after months of looking at the wreck of the thing, it’s honestly just a relief to be able to go through and start taking pieces apart.

Tl:dr is we’re going to be okay. Money is tight, we’re living with family and working 6 days a week, but we’ll be on the water sailing again in May, our company will survive, and we’re hoping to have Nautilus fixed in two or three years. Just wanted to share that with you all; I'm really glad to finally have some good news to offer. It's not easy but it's better, and we're going to get through it, pretty much 100% because of everyone who has been so kind to us both. Thank you all so, so much for every single kind word and share and donation. I am never going to be able to say how much it has meant to me, and what a difference it has made. I won’t be posting much more about it on here now that we're back on our feet, but if anyone wants to keep updated, detailed news about Nautilus repairs will go on the gofundme page, and our instagram will have lighter posts about both boats, repairs, and the 2025 season.

[roguetelemetry]

Nostromo concept sketches and early stage model. The first sketch clearly shows how the Nostromo is towing the refinery rig.

[captain-hawks]

maybe kuroo + vouyerism for your spicy sleepover weekend?

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

c: 18+, past relationship, pining, masturbation, voyeurism

Tetsurou’s too many drinks deep for this monumentally questionable decision.

This is his fault—the fact that he’s sitting on the cold tile floor of yours and Bokuto’s girlfriend’s dual ensuite bathroom, damp swim shorts doing nothing to hide his half-hard dick as he leans his head back against the door and stares up at the ceiling.

He’s the one that let you go, who ran like a goddamn coward the moment your situationship started to feel too much like a relationship.

He knows he fucked up, he’s been well aware for months on end, the endless ache in his chest a persistent reminder. 

But you’re happy now—something Bokuto’s girlfriend mentioned thrice at the bar last night, threateningly waving a fork in his direction for emphasis. 

“So you’d better fucking behave at the party tomorrow, Kuroo.”

He’d behaved all right. 

He’d behaved all damn afternoon, even when you finally showed up late with your new boyfriend in tow, plopping down in his lap on one the lounger chairs beside the pool and resting your head against his shoulder as you laughed and recounted the events of his baseball game.

He’d even managed a cordial fucking wave when the two of you locked eyes.

But it all started going downhill when you caught him alone in the kitchen, his hands slipping on the condensation on the side of the Coke can he was holding as your gazes locked on one another.

“I’m sorry—”

“Tetsu—”

He paused, an odd ache unfurling in his chest as you corrected yourself, “Kuroo.”

And maybe he could have made it through the rest of the day unscathed, if he hadn’t noticed you were still wearing the stupid ankle bracelet he’d won for you on the boardwalk last summer. The one with the silly little cat charm on it, which had been a pitiful consolation prize when his best efforts still couldn’t win the obnoxiously rigged balloon pop game, but you insisted he immediately tie it around your ankle all the same.

“I’ll wear it till it falls off,” you’d promised with a grin as Tetsurou offered the underpaid teenager at the booth and the obnoxious assortment of gigantic, impossible-to-win stuffed animals one last parting glare.

He should have left then—Akaashi even offered him a ride home.

But he’d stayed.

He’d fucking stayed and tortured himself even more as you lounged atop a floatie, your damp swimsuit leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Especially not one that already knows all your dips and curves—every little sound you make.

Sounds you’re making for someone else in your room on the other side of this goddamn door while Tetsurou’s head spins.

He’s too drunk for this.

But he can’t bring himself to get up, not when his mind’s readily conjuring images of you splayed out beneath him on your mattress, his hands cupping your breasts through your still-wet swimsuit. His thumb dragging across your nipples, the buds hard and sensitive in the air conditioned apartment.

He has to shove the heel of his palm against his dick when he thinks about untying your top, the way you’d arch your body up into his as he mouths at your breasts, your skin warm and wet under his touch.

On the other side of the door, you moan.

And fuck it, he lets his cock spring free from his shorts, nearly groaning in relief as he finally wraps his fingers around his achingly hard shaft.

He thinks about peeling off your swim shorts and spreading your legs, rutting his throbbing cock against the mattress as you drag your fingers through his hair while he eats you out. 

The bed frame creaks, and you moan loader, and Tetsurou spits in his palm, teeth biting into the side of his free hand as he tries to stifle his own groan while he fucks his fist.

He thinks about you climbing into his lap, the damp feeling of your skin flush against his, the familiar taste of your kiss as his mouth slots against yours. That little sound you always make as he eases his thick cock into you—the ghost of a laugh tangled in a whimper at the stretch.

The satisfied, languid noise that crawls up your throat when he bottoms out inside of you.

The desperate way you say his name when you’re about to come.

“Tetsu!”

Tetsurou’s eyes shoot open.

Did he just hear you—

A tidal wave of pleasure punches through him as he messily pumps hot, thick spurts of cum from his cock, his seed splattering across the floor tiles, and he rakes a hand through his hair, heart pounding erratically against his ribcage.

Fuck.

[thequibblingking13]

OK REAL GENUINE THEORY TIME bc i've been watching the finished KHUX dub after the KHML trailer.

What if the reason that the Player is able to retain their form/age when reincarnating in KHML is because there was already a body waiting for them upon reentry into the living world. Let me explain.

In the ending of KHUX, Luxu enters the Ark room with a body in tow, placing it into the lifeboat so that it may find it's way to the future, calling it "The True Dandelion".

Initially many (including myself) believed that this was Strelitzia and her white coat, sending her off potentially to quadratum for KH4 plot reasons. But, when we last see Strelitzia in KHUX, she is following a man in a black coat out of the scene.

I believe that the person escorting Strelitzia out is the MoM, as they both appear in quadratum, While the figure Luxu is loading into the lifeboat is a vessel for the player to take shape in Missing Link. This would explain why the player falls out of the sky, and ends up washed up onto the beach much like Kairi when she first arrived on the destiny islands via Ark travel

I dont know exactly what this means or why Luxu would rig the player's trajectory to land in Scala, but i believe he has some kind of plan and that we are very critical to it.