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marsbutterfly · 3 months ago

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MECHANIC BADDIE HANJI WHO FIXES UP READERS CAR. SHES ALL LIKE I CAN TAKE CARE OF IT DARLING. YOU JUST SIT THERE AND LOOK PRETTY. (IDK SHIT ABOUT CARS) JUST NEED AN ACTS OF SERVICE HANJI

I'll Fix It All

a/n: omg happy new year!! this turned out way longer than I originally intended for it to be. i was hoping to post it before the year turned but i'll also accept the first day of the year lol. enjoy.

warnings: fem!reader (she/her), nb! hanji zoe (they/them), modern au, anxiety, panic attacks, kissing, fluff, comfort. also like, i don't know much about cars or car repair so pls bear with me. tagging: @wizzy21 wc: 2.5k | wattpad! | ao3!

"No, no, no, no, NO!" You cry out as your car slowly begins to lose speed. This isn't the first time this week, nor the second, nor the third. You couldn't even count on one hand the amount of times the engine had been making that weird noise and the light had been blinking at you like a malevolent eye.

But you thought you could put it off, that you could easily ignore it, and that it would fix itself like it had many times before. Maybe you just needed to check the coolant or add some more water to the radiator, except you continuously forgot to do so. And it finally came back to bite you in the ass.

As the smoke comes out of the hood, you grip the steering wheel tightly, a loud grunt escaping your lips as your forehead presses against the horn, the loud noise filling the air all around you. Still, you are lucky enough to be in a somewhat empty area so the least amount of people will be disturbed.

Your first instinct is to panic. You can feel the blood rushing through your body, your face getting warmer as a few tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You let out a shaky exhale, cursing yourself for allowing this situation to happen in the first place. Before you can even begin to cry, you feel your phone vibrating in the cup holder next to you, the caller's name showing up on the screen attached to the dashboard. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‎‎‎"Sunshine ☼"

With a sniffle, you wipe the tears before they even have the chance to roll down your cheeks and pick up your phone, pressing the green button on the screen as you try your best to sound like you are composed and not entirely freaking out at the moment.

"Hello, my most beloved," you say, trying your best to sound like your playful self. Though it has no sound, you can almost hear the smile dropping off Hanji's face. It was not out of the ordinary for them to quickly pick up on the slightest change in your tone of voice.

"What happened?" They ask without missing a beat, the tone of their voice filled with love and concern, almost as if they were already expecting you to be in some sort of distress. "I was doing the dishes and accidentally broke a glass because I got such a bad feeling that my hand started shaking."

You sniffle but a small giggle exits your chest, the idea that the two of you are so intertwined that they can even sense when you are in some sort of distress, "Yeah, I'm fine… My car just finally gave out on me and I'm in the middle of a random neighborhood because I decided today, out of all days, to take a random shortcut!"

"Send me your location, and I'll get my tools and meet you over there," they say and you can already hear them moving around on the other end of the line. You wish you could protest but, the more you look at your car, the more panic fills your body. So you simply let out a quiet "okay" before hanging up.

Though your hands nervously shake, you can open your text messages and send Hanji a pin of your exact location. It isn't too far from your house, maybe five minutes if you speed up, and that knowledge only adds more fuel to your frustration. "Why now? I could have easily pulled into my driveway before you gave out!" You can't help the angry grunt that leaves your throat as you slam your hand against the steering wheel.

The waiting time seems like an eternity, an eerie feeling in the back of your mind like you are being watched. Your eyes dart to your phone, half convinced that maybe you should just call a toll truck when you see the headlights of Hanji's motorcycle as they speed down the road.

The light from the post shines above them and you can barely distinguish if they are an angel or a real person. As soon as their bike is parked behind your car, you exit the vehicle, running towards their embrace.

Their hair is still messy from having a helmet on and they hold a small toolbox with their left hand, but that does not stop them from hugging you as tightly as they possibly can. Their lips press against your head as the two of you remain like that for a while.

"Shhh, it's ok, my love," you can feel the smile in their voice, a gentleness like nothing you have ever experienced before, "Hanji is here to fix your problems."

"I truly appreciate you coming this fast," you whisper against their chest, "I genuinely thought my car would be able to handle the journey today but… I guess I was wrong."

"Did you have any trouble starting it this morning?" They pull back, their arm still wrapped around your frame. You think for a second, having trouble focusing on anything other than this panicky feeling in your chest.

Slowly, you begin to remember your day: you left work and the car started. You left for lunch and the car started. Clearly, it had started when you left home that morning… Didn't it?

"Oh shit…" You whisper while an embarrassed expression takes over your features. Your eyes shift towards the ground as you pull slightly further away to create a bigger distance between your bodies, too self-conscious to even look at them. "I couldn't get the engine to turn this morning. I had to start it, put it in neutral, and then start it again."

They nod, kissing your forehead once more as they stand in front of the hood of your car. You are still too embarrassed to look but you can hear the moment their toolbox touches the ground and as their hands pop it open. A few seconds go by as they begin tinkering with the metal inside, though your knowledge of cars isn't deep enough for you to fully understand what is going on.

You cross one arm against your chest while the other rests above your hand, your index finger tapping on your cheek while you can't help but take small nibbles on your thumb's nail. The anxiety inside of your chest never dissipates, nor the shame.

The morning had been nothing but a blur. You woke up late for work, forgot to eat or even bring anything to snack on until you had time to go to lunch, spilled water all over your car, and, to top it all off, it was raining in the morning. The engine not starting was just one of the many, many things that had gone wrong. You meant to text Hanji about it so they could meet you during your work hours and fix it but, of course, you forgot to charge your phone the night before.

You close your eyes and exhale, leaning against the car. Before you can get yourself into a frenzy, you hear Hanji's gentle voice pulling you out of the dark spiral you were about to send yourself into, "Okay, good news and bad news."

"Please explain it to me like I'm five," you say, shooting them an exhausted look and it causes them to chuckle quietly. "Bad news first."

"The alternator, or thing that charges your car battery, isn't properly working for some reason. Maybe because it's old, maybe it's faulty, but it for sure will not start working again, like, that thing is dead."

You nod, surprisingly following along with what they are telling you. You realize that all this knowledge comes from the previous times they have come to your aid or maybe from all the times they would check under the hood of your car before you left their house while the two of you still lived in separate households. Regardless, you turn your attention to them once more.

"I checked the fluid and the coolant and everything seems to be full and working ok. I ran some codes and nothing out of the ordinary popped up and lastly, I checked your oil." They say, wiping the grime out of their hands with a bleached towel, their face slightly sweaty, especially around the area where their glasses sit on their nose.

"Fuck… And the good news?" You ask, biting your nails even more, almost to the point of blood. With a gentle and concerned expression, Hanji takes a few steps forward, wrapping their dirty digits around your trembling palms, and only then do you notice just how short your nails have become.

"I can easily fix it. The last one we bought still has a warranty, so I can just change them." They whisper, placing a kiss against your fingers. A sense of despair fills your body again as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, your lip trembling as you speak in a quiet yet pathetic voice.

"Please, don't leave me alone."

They sigh, running their hand over their messy hair. They look over to the open hood of your car and around the neighborhood, trying to think about what the best choice would be in this situation.

"The store is fifteen minutes away, on my bike, I'll be back in - "

"Please, don't leave me alone!!" You beg desperately, whatever is left of your fingernails now digging into the skin of their biceps, your eyes are wide open as tears stream down. You weren't that upset about the car breaking down, but just the intensity of all the feelings you had been holding back finally caught up to you the moment you realized you would have to be without them for even a second.

Hanji is taken aback by how sudden your response is, and how desolate you sound. They can see the anxiety written all over your features and it causes their heart to ache in their chest. That's the moment in which they realize just how many feelings you have been bottling, just how bad your week has been, and just how you have refused to talk to them about it.

Almost like they gain consciousness, their arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer to their body. In exchange, you bury your head on their chest, not carrying that their shirt is now covered in grime and sweat, even if it is chilly outside. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" They whisper, their lips pressed against the top of your head.

You want to shake your head, to put your walls up once more and brush it off as "just a bad day", but it was more than that. It had been a bad week, a bad month, and you had gone through it all by yourself, in silence. Crying in the shower but still putting on a smile when around them, your appetite barely exists but you still eat all of their cooking. But before you can deny anything, the tears begin pouring down your face once more, you cling to them like they are the last life vest on a sinking ship.

“I d-don’t know what is going on with me…” You gasp, hiding your face in a mixture of shame and search for comfort. “I just… I just want to be close to you at all times, I just never want to be alone and I just… Everything is too much and not enough, everything is going wrong. I…”

“My love,” they whisper, holding you slightly tighter with one arm. With their free hand, they prop up your chin, a gentle and warm smile taking over their lips once your eyes meet. “You don’t have to suffer alone, ok? I am here for you, no matter what, when, or where. I will always be by your side.”

“Good and bad?” You sniffle and they chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes as they lean down so their forehead is touching yours. They nod.

“Good and bad, my angel…” They whisper, their eyes closing as your noses brush together. You lean closer, your lips brushing against theirs so lightly that it nearly feels like a paint-filled brush against a canvas, working its way through a halfway-painted masterpiece.

Hanji gently presses your body against the car door, their grip on your waist is tight as they make sure to keep you safely in place. Your lips are half-open, temptingly wet in the dim light of the street pole, your face is stained with silent tears and the only thought going through their head? “I really need to kiss her.”

And so they do. They lean forward ever so slightly until there is no more room between the two of you. When your lips collide, you can’t help the quiet gasp that exists in your body, your hand gently resting on their cheek while your thumb brushes against the softness of their skin.

You get lost in the warmth of their body, in how comforting it feels to have them pressed against you like this. Your nose brushes against theirs as your head tilts slightly to the side, the faint smell of coffee and menthol cigarettes still lingering on their breath as it mixes with the scent of the gum you had in your mouth earlier.

They nibble on your tongue gently, sometimes brushing the tip of their own against it and it’s enough to cause you to nearly melt in their arms. If it wasn’t for their strong arms holding you in place, you would have fallen to the ground into a puddle underneath their feet.

Neither of you wants to pull away, but the need to breathe is becoming stronger by the second. When you separate, your forehead rests against theirs, and your eyes remain closed as you enjoy the smell of their skin. Even if it isn’t a pleasant smell, it brings you too much comfort in this moment for you to care.

“I’ll call Moblit and he can come to help, ok?” They whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nod, lacing your fingers with the ones on their left hand while they pull their phone out of their pocket with the other. "I'll send him to the store and I will stay with you. You won't be alone, I promise."

As they speak to the man on the other end of the line, you can’t help but allow a small smile to form on your lips as you think about how lucky you are to have someone like them in your life. Someone willing to stop everything at the drop of a hat to come to rescue you when you need them most.

As they blow you a kiss, you find yourself thinking about that one specific sentence once more, realizing that no truer words had ever been spoken:

“Hanji is here to fix all your problems.”

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year ago

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The road trip

College was finally over! Randy and Danny, who had spent the last four years living in the same dorm room, were celebrating their graduation with a dream they had nurtured for the past few months: A road trip across the country! They would travel together, spend the time driving and the nights in motels, and finally visit some famous places along the way.

Both of them had the money for it and the time to spare. Danny, of course, who was the more reliable of the duo, was the one who had planned out the whole trip in advance. He had the maps, the motels and the sights all written down, and now they were driving through the countryside to the west.

All went according to plan and the two friends were already a few days on the road, when the accident happened. Randy, who didn't get much sleep the night before was driving while Danny was taking a nap in the seat next to him. The monotonous sight of the country road was not helping much, and Danny found it more and more difficult to stay awake. In hindsight, the sensible choice of action would have been to park the car and take a nap as well. But Randy wasn't the type for sensible choices. He just kept driving and driving until...

*BANG!*

Randy's car hit something, a rock, a stone, a tree. Danny woke up with a jolt and looked around. Everything had happened so fast. The front window was broken, and the airbag had exploded.

Danny couldn't see because of the airbag and tried to open the door. Luckily, it wasn't jammed, and he could work himself out of the car just in time to see Randy crawl out on the driver's side as well.

"Randy! Are you hurt? What happened?"

"No, I'm okay, but the car... "

Danny, who had managed to stand up by now, took a look at the front of the car. They had collided with a large rock next to the road. Even without any mechanical expertise, Danny recognized that the car was wrecked, damaged beyond repair. Next to one of the car's wheels, he spotted something on the ground. When he picked it up, however, it was just some old coin that he quickly pocketed.

"Fuck." was all Danny remarked. It was unlike him to swear, but the situation called for it.

Randy was still looking at the wreck of his car in disbelief. A thousand thoughts spun around in his head, ranging from "my dad's gonna kill me" to "I should really have been more careful". He finally decided on:

"How are we going to get back to civilization?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out. We should really get the rest of our luggage and call for help."

The two former students did as suggested and collected their luggage from the car. Luckily, everything that had been in the trunk was more or less intact. Calling for help, however, was a bigger problem than anticipated.

"No reception." Randy stated and Danny nodded, adding only another "Fuck.".

"Perhaps, there's some sort of service station nearby. We should probably walk in the direction we were driving." Danny said after a short consideration.

Neither of them knew how far it was going to be - but surely, at some point, they would be able to use their phones.

After walking for about twenty minutes in the blazing heat, Danny suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?", Randy asked.

"It's fucking hot, that's what it is", Danny answered. His voice sounded scruff, but that was probably just because of the lack of water. After a short bit of hesitation, he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away his sweat before dropping it to the ground.

"Better." he mumbled, but it didn't take long for the sweat to return.

Randy, who had also stopped when Danny did, looked at him and his surprisingly well defined torso, glistening in the sun. He had known Danny for a long time, and had seen him shirtless more than once, but his friends exposed chest was way more impressive than he remembered.

"Aren't you hot?"

Randy was interrupted in his thoughts by the question.

"No, actually... I'm not sweating one bit." he answered truthfully. That earned him a strange look from Danny, but no further comment.

Danny was hot, really hot. His mind was clouded, and it was difficult for him to think straight. After another short while, he cursed again.

"Fuck this shit! We're not getting anywhere like that."

Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, which showed a coating of fine dark hairs now. Randy was pretty sure they weren't there some moments ago. What was going on?! Randy really didn't want to stare, but there were some not-so-subtle changed in his friend. The chest, the hair, the sudden change in behavior... and was that a tattoo on his shoulder? Randy was very, very certain that Danny didn't have any tattoos and yet, here was one. It looked like a crest or something, perhaps a military motive? That was impossible, of course, Danny was a gentle pacifist.

It didn't look bad on him, though. Randy found his eyes glued to his friends body, taking everything in, the muscles, the tattoo, the hair, the... bulge.

"Are you enjoying the view?" the question was snarky, almost aggressive, and definitely not what Randy was used to.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Randy began, but Danny had already closed the distance between them and closed his hand (Randy could swear it was bigger and rougher than before) around Randy's crotch. Only now that it had been touched, Randy realized that he had grown hard.

"Don't act innocent, you little fag", Danny growled. "You're enjoying the view."

"Yes." Randy breathed. The whole situation was weird, and definitely not good, but his friend's hand on his cock felt so incredibly good. Of course, Randy wasn't gay... was he?

When he looked up, he saw Danny grinning a superior grin, despite his harsh words. He had grown significantly, Randy noticed. Not taller, but broader, with big, strong muscles. More tattoos had appeared on his other arm as well, and his chin was covered in bristly stubble now.

Most importantly, though, Danny, too was obviously hard in his pants. The bulge was big, way bigger than what Randy would have expected, even though he had never seen Danny's member hard before. The sight was mouth-watering.

Danny laughed and pressed his groin into Randy's, letting him feel the hardness.

"Yeah, I know what you want."

He opened his pants with his free hand and dropped them, revealing a huge member.

"Do you like what you see?"

Randy couldn't do much else than nod. The sight was just mesmerizing. He was still vaguely aware that they were open in public, on a road, but he couldn't help but stare at his friend's huge cock.

"Come on, give it a kiss."

Randy did as he was told and started to kneel down in front of his friend, but he was interrupted again by Danny's big hand that stopped him.

"But first...", Danny's voice sounded lower, more manly now, as he reached into Randy's pants and underpants and closed his hand around Randy's very stiff dick before he continued:

"I'll take this."

With that, he suddenly *yanked* at Randy's cock and balls, who was expecting the pain of a lifetime. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel too bad. There was an odd pulling sensation for a moment, but it passed quickly. Even as Danny had retracted his arm, Randy could still feel his firm hand gripping his cock and balls - and he could *see* them, too: Danny was still holding them in his hand, detached from Randy's body.

"Ah, a perfect toy. This should keep you busy while I make use of your mouth."

The realization of what had happened was overwhelming, but it didn't stop Randy from feeling horny. It didn't help that Danny was idly playing with his detached cock, making him moan.

"Didn't you hear me? On. Your. Knees."

Randy was surprised, and even scared a little. How could Danny speak with such authority, like he was a superior man? Like he was... Randy's master.

As he finally went down on his knees, he looked up and was confronted with a different kind of surprise: Danny had been wearing blue jeans before, but now he was greeted by old and worn, and, most importantly, smelly, camo pants, held by a leather belt with a big metal buckle. The pants were open and his giant dick, still hard, hung out between the legs, resting on the heavy balls.

"Suck it." Danny said.

Randy did as he was told, putting his lips around the giant cock and started to suck. It felt more than weird, sucking another man's cock while having his own member detached and being slowly rubbed by the manly hands of his frie...

No, Danny was clearly superior to him now, much too superior to be a peer of his. He was his master, his owner perhaps. He was the one who held his cock in his hand, quite literally. The thought was thrilling for Randy, and he moaned out of pure pleasure.

Danny seemed to enjoy the blowjob as well, and, surprisingly, his cock grew even larger. With a low growl, Danny came in Randy's mouth. It was an incredible amount of cum, filling his mouth and making him gag.

"Good." Danny smirked and zipped up his pants. "And now you're gonna replace the car you crashed."

With these words, Randy found himself beginning to change. He fell to the ground and watched as both his hands and feet became larger, black and rubbery. There was no doubt: They were turning into... tires!

His whole body exploded in size, shredding his clothing as if they were made of paper. His skin turned hard and metallic and took on a bright yellow color. His body hollowed out and glass formed on the front, the sides and the back, as Randy, the human quickly became Randy, the car. And not just any car. He was becoming a brand new, modern, yellow jeep. His intestines turned into one of the most powerful engines you could own, while his mind underwent another transformation.

Randy's thoughts became clearer, simpler, more mechanical, as his mind was being absorbed into the on-board computer, effectively becoming nothing more than a subservient AI. With all his sensors, Randy noticed of course, as the rugged redneck, Dan the man, entered his interior and took a deep breath of Randy's new car smell.

"Alright, let's get going." Danny mumbled to no one in particular and inserted the key, which had been Randy's cock before, into the keyhole that had been Randy's mouth.

Immediately, Randy roared to life, and at the touch of his owner accelerated down the long country road.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay #inanimate transformation

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scotianostra · 24 days ago

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5th March 1953 saw The Maid of the Loch, the last Loch Lomond paddle steamer, lowered into the water.

On this day the historic ship left its Balloch base at 11.25am on its maiden voyage it took 1,000 passengers to Balmaha, Rowardennan, Tarbet, Inversnaid and Ardlui. For 28 years on, the Maid was known as the ‘heart’ of Loch Lomond, carrying millions of passengers, famous faces included, around the bonnie banks.

Ordered in 1950 by the British Transport Commission from A. & J. Inglis of Pointhouse, Glasgow, she was built and then cut into sections for transportation by rail to Balloch on Loch Lomond.

There she was re-assembled and was launched, almost complete, without ceremony. Her two-cylinder compound diagonal engine was built by Rankin & Blackmore of Greenock. She was painted white overall with green boot-topping, a buff funnel, and had the British Railways lion and wheel crest on her bows. In the 1975 season, her funnel colour was red with a black top. Her mainmast was removed in 1978. A service had first been initiated on Loch Lomond in 1818, and it is believed that this was the first regular passenger steamer service on an inland lake anywhere in the world.

The Maid was the twentieth paddle steamer to have sailed on Loch Lomond. She ran trials on 4 May 1953 and was named at a ceremony on 22 May, prior to a special cruise to Ardlui. The maiden cruise with fare-paying passengers took place on 25 May. Her regular route took her from Balloch to Ardlui with calls in either direction at Balmaha, Rowardennan, Tarbet and Inversnaid. From 1964, Maid of the Loch terminated at Inversnaid following the closure of the pier at Ardlui, though cruises to the Head of the Lake were also operated.

The Caledonian Steam Packet Company took over the ship in 1957, followed in 1969 by the Scottish Transport Group, and in 1970 by William Alexander & Sons - when the British Railways emblem was removed. The Maid fell on hard times as passenger numbers dwindled and the ship was eventually mothballed in 1981.

In 1992, he steamer was acquired by Dumbarton District Council and efforts to save the ship began with volunteer working parties; at the end of 1995, she was transferred to the Maid of the Loch Trust prior to the establishment of the Loch Lomond Steamship Company, a registered charity.

n 1997, her wooden deck was replaced with steel. Her lower hull was painted black, with ref boot-topping, above which the main deck sides and the superstructure remained white, but the funnel was now red with a black top. Following the restoration of the steam-powered slipway at Balloch, she was hauled out of the water in June 2006 (for inspection) for the first time since her withdrawal, as part of her rebuild - the objective of which is to return her to service.

This latest achievement was thanks to a £620,000 funding package from the Heritage Lottery Fund, Scottish Enterprise Dunbartonshire, West Dunbartonshire Council and LLSC. An internal refurbishment of the winch house, creation of a visitor interpretation facility and external landscaping is also planned.

In December 2018, the Scottish Government announced it had awarded a £950,000 capital grant. The Paddle Steamer Preservation Society also confirmed that a grant of £50,000 will still be granted, taking this working package to £1million. Funding will be spent on repairs to the vessel’s hull, creation of an education facility on board, refurbishing the main function suite and overhauling the engines to enable them to turn with steam.

Last year the old lady celebrated her 65th birthday as work continues on the restoration, and those of us in Scotland might recall her hitting the headlines in January this year.

The 65-year-old ship was being taken from the water ahead of restoration work when it slipped its ties and workers had to flee to safety. It was then taken back to its normal berth at Balloch Pier and the operation called off for the day.The Maid was berthed successfully the following day.

It’s a great wee train ride to Balloch from Glesga, and you can hop aboard the Maid of the Loch for free visit its Tea room and grab some souvenirs on board. Visitor displays and DVD shows; children’s activities; majestic steam engine. during the summer season. Work continues on board and you can witness the old steamer on its way to becoming a loch going ship. If you can’t make it check out their Facebook page for all the updates and pics from the past and present. Good luck and happy birthday The Maid of the Loch.

#scotland #scottish #history #Loch Lomond #Steam ship #pleasure cruiser

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inkedmoth · 4 months ago

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A Sweet Surprise

An On Swift Wings one-shot set post-war, a nice little palate cleanser for you to enjoy ❤️

“So where, exactly, are you taking me?”

Rhosynel’s curiosity earnt her an amused glance from Boromir, her arm looped through his as the pair strolled through the streets of Minas Tirith. With spring starting to come to a close, the weather was warming up and the citizens of the city were making the most of it. Stalls were popping up, markets were beginning to bustle, and the scars of war were beginning to fade.

True, there was still reconstruction to be done, but the city was healing.

“I did say it was a surprise,” Boromir replied, glancing to her with a fond expression, “are you really that impatient? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“You know full well I don’t, considering you booked today in my schedule.”

He’d claimed this day over a month ago, the schedule of meetings and plans for the improved Messengers Service had been taking up hours and days and weeks of Rhosynel’s time. There were outposts that needed construction, stables that needed to be financed, and more Messengers that needed to be trained, not to mention the roads needed to be repaired or improved. Or built.

As such, when she wasn’t drowning in paperwork, she’d been run ragged, constantly hustling back and forth, be it in Gondor, Arnor, Harondor, or even north to the Vales of Anduin. True it was exciting and thrilling, not to mention her new and improved rank of Kings Messenger gave Rhosynel even more freedom and autonomy, but by Béma’s Bow she was exhausted.

“You’ll enjoy it, I promise,” Boromir attempted to reassure, “I did say I’d treat you.”

Somehow, Rhosynel didn’t doubt that.

Pausing, the pair let a cart stacked high with barrels being hauled by a donkey cross their paths, the owner of said cart nodding to Boromir as the wheels bumped and rattled on by. Even out of uniform, even not wearing any crests or motifs, Boromir was more than recognisable and respected.

It was a relief that her face wasn’t yet remarkable.

“Not far now,” he added, as they resumed walking.

“Good, I’m getting hungry and we’re missing lunch for this.”

It wasn’t a complaint, not really, Rhosynel was far too accustomed to going for days without food, an hour or two wouldn’t make a difference. Especially considering how pleasant the day was, their stroll leisurely and unhurried, cheerful chatter and friendly greetings filled the market of the fourth level, it was warm and comforting to see just how the city was recovering.

“Ah, here we go.”

At Boromir’s words, Rhosynel’s attention pulled away from the stalls of jewellery, leather work, books, flowers, and trinkets, to find that Boromir was heading towards a specific building at one side of the market.

A bright blue awning had been erected over the front door and window of the shop, adding more outside space to display their wares. The wooden table was covered with a white tablecloth, and atop it, arranged beautifully, were all manner of treats both sweet and savoury.

Breads by the dozens were piled high, brown, white, seedy, flat, long, square, fluffy, dense, raisins, fruit, and more all competed for Rhosynel’s attention. Cake upon cake was arranged in vibrant colours, one layer, two, three, even possibly four layers tall, with thick cream spread between then topped with even more, drizzled with icing and decorated with sugared fruits from across Arda. And then there were the pastries, with golden flaky surfaces, everything from herbed duck to slow cooked pork, or sweeter options like cream and sugar dusted parcels of layered pastry with fruit fillings.

Rhosynel’s mouth immediately started watering.

“Lord Boromir!” the stall keeper was greeting in clear familiarity, her face brightening into a genuine smile as the pair approached, “welcome back.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Tawardil,” he greeted warmly, “business is going well today I take it?”

His gesture to the stall drew Rhosynel’s attention back down to the delightful display of delicate desserts, but also the notable gaps where products had sold. True they were few and far between, but the fact there were gaps at all was impressive, considering the bakery was still active and churning out yet more food.

“Indeed, but I set aside a couple of your favourites to keep warm,” Tawardil replied.

Favourites? Just how often did Boromir visit this bakery?

The woman was already bustling into the building, her flour dusted apron whisking out of sight, and Rhosynel turned an amused look to him.

“What?” Boromir asked, grinning back at her. “The stuffed pastries they sell here are delicious, I always stop by when I’m passing through.”

“Well since you’re so familiar, what would you recommend?” she asked, her own smile broadening.

“If you fancy something savoury, then the duck and orange pastry, or if you’d rather a sweet treat, then the lemon curd is my favourite.”

The swiftness with which he answered drew a laugh from Rhosynel, shaking her head in disbelief. But squeezing affectionately with her arm threaded through his, she turned her gaze back to the staggering arrangement of baked goods on display.

It would be hard to choose, but Rhosynel had an inkling of what she’d get.

“Here you go my Lord,” Tawardil reappeared with a paper wrapped parcel.

“Ah thank you indeed!”

The baker’s attention was already turning to Rhosynel with a broad smile. “You’re in luck, Rhosynel, I have a few of the cocoa and cinnamon swirls left, but you should have let me know you were coming, I’d have kept them warm for you!”

Rhosynel could have sworn she heard the click of Boromir’s neck, as his head snapped about to stare at her.

“I didn’t know I was coming, it was a surprise,” she replied, still smiling even as a flush began to creep up her neck at the intensity of Boromir’s gaze. “But yes, a cinnamon swirl would be lovely, thank you.”

A second wrapped parcel joined the first, and a handful of silver gratefully given.

It was almost impressive how Boromir managed to remain quiet until after they left the stall and the marvellous display of goods. The wrapped pastries in his hands, and her arm threaded through his as they ambled away.

At which point he spoke up.

“You absolute little—”

“I didn’t know that it was Tawar’s you were taking me to!” Rhosynel protested quickly before he could get much further. “It was a surprise!”

There was a grumble from the Lord on her arm, and she promptly steered him towards one side of the market, a low wall was in the sun and somewhat quieter than the hustle and bustle of the crowds milling about. A good place to settle and people watch.

“It was a good surprise though,” she continued, “I haven’t visited the bakery for at least a month, I was getting cravings for another cinnamon swirl.”

There was another grumble.

Hopping up onto the wall, Rhosynel reached out, catching Boromir’s arms and drawing him towards her. With her perch, she was for once slightly taller, and it made a nice change for him to be the one peering up at her as Boromir settled between her knees.

There was a scowl on his face, but she could see the twitch of his lips trying to hold back a smirk.

“Really though,” Rhosynel pressed on, “I didn’t know you were a patron of Tawar’s?”

“We’ve not exactly spent much time wondering the city together,” he pointed out.

“Then we’ll have to change that, make a date out of it. There’s a particular tavern in the lower level that sells the best ale.”

“If it’s the Twisted Latch then I’m already familiar, I’ve had to drag my men out of there on more than on occasion,” he retorted, and neatly scuppered Rhosynel’s plan. “Or is that the sort of place you make a habit of visiting?”

“Only when I’m getting the soldiers drunk to annoy you.”

The startled bark of laughter from Boromir was enough to banish the rest of his faux glower, and he shook his head ruefully. “Fine, fine. Eat your pastry and let me wallow.”

“No,” Rhosynel said sweetly, and pecked a kiss to his forehead –purely for the novelty of being taller– before plucking her pastry from his hand. “Where else do you frequent then? And don’t say the barracks.”

“The training grounds.”

Rhosynel would have swatted him on the arm if it weren’t for the fact she was halfway through unwrapping her pastry. The tantalizing scent of sweet cocoa cream and the subtle spice of cinnamon was one she’d not smelt in months. Her mouth was watering, and even licking the sugary dust from her fingers was enough to distract her from reprimanding Boromir for his sarcasm. The two key ingredients were imported from Harad, but with the War on, the supply had dwindled, and they’d become worth their weight in gold, it was a relief to have her favourite treat again after so long.

“How about,” he was saying, chewing his own pastry in deep thought, “the gardens on the third level, the roses there are some of the sweetest I’ve ever smelt.”

“Sounds nice, we could take a picnic.”

“Load up on pastries on our way down to them?”

“Maybe in summer when it’s a little warmer?” Rhosynel added.

There was a soft chuckle from Boromir, shaking his head and neatly dusting his deep burgundy doublet with powdered sugar, automatically she was reaching out to brush it free from the fine silk before it could stick.

“You are always cold,” he said with a fond smile, “but yes, if you want, we can wait till summer, although that’s a long way off.”

“A week or two, you mean,” she countered, holding up one hand to cover her mouth as she spoke around a mouthful of cocoa.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Fwuk uff.”

That earnt a snort.

“Alright, in two weeks we’re going for a picnic, so you better not be halfway to Erebor by then,” he said, with a nod, as though it was that easy to settle on a date when they were both free.

“Fine, but if he wants to argue you’re telling Aragorn that I’m ‘indisposed’ that day, since this is your idea.”

“He won’t argue if he knows what’s good for him.”

Rhosynel swatted at his chest in mock horror. “Don’t be rude, that’s the King you speak of!”

All too easily, Boromir caught her offending hand in his, already rising it to his lips to lick up some of the flakes of pastry and cinnamon sugar that had stuck to her fingers.

It was an entirely far too intimate act for such a public place, and as Rhosynel turned scarlet with the heat of a hundred suns. Although, if she were to judge by his sly grin of triumph, she suspected he’d done that entirely because he knew how red and speechless she’d become.

Thankfully Rhosynel was rarely short on words.

“If you get to steal some of my pastry, it’s only fair I get some of yours,” she objected, face still hot.

There was no hesitation from Boromir, holding it up to her lips in clear offer. Fully expecting him to snatch it away before she could get a bite, she all but lunged at the offering, taking a far too large a portion of the lemon curd filled pastry. The sweet and sharp preserve was tangy, almost grimacingly so, but the sugared flakes of pastry settled it to just tart. It was nice, she had to admit.

“Whoa hey now!” Boromir exclaimed, having nearly lost a finger in the process. “What happened to some!”

“Wha’ y’gonna do bou’ it?” Rhosynel challenged through a very full mouth.

Boromir lunged.

A shriek left her mouth –slightly muffled– as Rhosynel lurched back, his teeth snapping shut on her own cinnamon swirl. She’d have toppled backwards off the wall, if it wasn’t for the fact Boromir had moved quicker and gotten his free arm about her back. So instead of toppling, she yelled, flailed, hooked her legs about his waist in a panic, and generally made a scene, drawing a few chuckles or confused glances from those passing by.

“I’ll do that.” The Warden of the White Tower looked like a smug teenager, grinning with a mouthful of pastry, and his arm securely anchored about her back.

Swallowing the lump of lemon and pastry, Rhosynel mock lunged for his again, and the grip about her waist tightened to pull her flush against his chest. Now pinned against him, Boromir simply held his arm up, so she couldn’t reach. It was true that the wall she’d perched on gave her a height advantage, but Boromir’s arms were outlandishly long, and the sweet dessert was now entirely out of reach.

“Cheat!”

“I’m defending what’s mine!”

It was incredibly tempting to bite him in retaliation, but that was a little too much for a public space even by her standards. So instead Rhosynel very maturely crammed as much of her cinnamon swirl into her mouth as physically possible so he couldn’t steal any more of it from under her nose.

“That is horrifying.” He sounded almost proud, watching her aggressively chew.

She grinned at him.

“But, while you’re unable to speak, I must admit to an ulterior motive, with this date,” Boromir continued, and Rhosynel abruptly found herself feeling mildly alarmed as to what this was entailing. “I’ve been thinking about my apartments, and while it suits me quite well, its starting to feel a little… cramped now that you’re leaving your own work scattered all over the place.”

Rhosynel managed to anxiously swallow half her mouthful, unable to decide if she was worried as to what he was going to say, or curious as to what he was leading up to. Had she been too messy? Was he annoyed that her paperwork and belongings had scattered across his once spotless quarters?

But Boromir was inhaling deeply. “So I was thinking of moving to a larger set of rooms, and whether or not… you’d like to move in with me?”

That, was not what she’d expected.

Choking down the last mouthful of cinnamon, Rhosynel tried to marshal her thoughts, but all she managed was a stunned, “what…?”

“I know you’ve got your own apartment,” he hastened to continue, clearly taking her shock for discomfort, “but you spend just as much time up in the Citadel and I figured it would be easier if you had your own study and space within rather than having to traipse back and forth at all hours after your meetings not to mention its closer to the stables so you’d get back quicker after your missive ru—”

Boromir was silenced as Rhosynel kissed him. True it was only fleeting, and she was quick to lean back and watch the expression on his face as she answered. “I’d love to.”

It was his turn to look stunned, going to far as to blink several times as though trying to understand that it was that simple.

“What…?”

“I said yes, dear.”

“I-I know, but, are you sure? You didn’t exactly take time to consider it,” Boromir replied.

“I don’t need to consider it.”

“But surely…”

“Boromir,” Rhosynel sighed, one part exasperation, one part fondness. “You said it yourself, I already spend so much time up at the Citadel, and within your quarters, it makes sense. But Boromir, you should have said that my mess bothered you.”

“It doesn’t.”

The response came so swiftly that Rhosynel knew he was telling the truth.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, despite the fact she’d already confirmed as such. “If you want to take some time to think about it—”

Rhosynel kissed him again, lingering this time. “I’m sure,” she murmured quietly, “I’d love to move in with you.”

There was a shaky exhale against her lips, and Boromir’s free hand rose to cup her jaw, silver and grey eyes searching hers as though looking of any hesitation or doubt.

“Very well then,” he said, voice soft and breath ghosting across her skin. Against her lips, Rhosynel felt the moment Boromir started smiling. “I guess I’ll have to get used to sharing with you.”

“You can start with that pastry.”

“I take it back.”

Rhosynel laughed, kissing him again, the sweet taste of sugar on her tongue. “You love me really.”

“That, I do.”

#On Swift Wings #A Sweet Surprise #Lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lotr oneshot #boromir x oc #fotfics #moth fic

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amphiptere-art · 1 year ago

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I just remembered all my older AUs. I haven't talked about them. Because well. They're not TSAMS. They're just standard security breach DCA. I've already gone on little tirades about these guys. And technically you're supposed to find out more about them in the RBB adventures of the cube. But since no one's interested in that, perhaps you guys would like if I just went on a tirade.

Down below the poll Is this shortest versions of the descriptions I have.

mechanical medic AU- story focused.

(Not in poll, But one of my lesser known AUs)

Ralph the Repair Dragon works as a moving parts and service. But is haunted by 3 fragmented souls of mechanics that died in the Plex. Sun n Moon struggle to get the medical mechanic animatronic to leave them alone.

Purrfect Thief- story focused.

you are a shape-shifting cat. You work with The gang Lord Eclipse but live as a house cat with the detectives Sun and Moon. You are an informant with the spiders web. A info company owned by DJ. Life has been simple and happy. But on the horizon a pack of dogs is ready to ruin that simple life.

Saving Waves- story focused

a sun n moon mer story. Were sun n moon were once in our lab/mer fighting facility. They are saved by a rehab facility and have to learn how to be normal Mer again. Also following the other side of the family. Who are trying to get pesky humans to stay out of their wild waters.

Warehouse AU- story / ask focused.

after the fire story were the dca, Freddy, DJ, foxy and Bonnie are moved to a big werehouse (owned by a y/n) is modified into a mini Plex (honestly more like a side road arcade that's bigger). And the dca has to relearn how to function with the band.

Rusty wheels- ask focused (lots of lore though)

a apocalypse au were a nanite Afton virus infects the world. It's cyberpunk with a rustic feel. Y/N has a big truck sized motorcycle thing and finds sun n moon. And drags them in their attempts of adventure and survival.

Cryptid eater- story / ask focus.

a Sun and Moon are Hunters story but you are a creature that eats vampires and werewolves and things like such. And the story takes place with you trying to convince them that you're on their side.

Warehouse Daycare- ask focused

a version of the warehouse AU where it's only sun n moon. The werehouse is smaller and they grow a closer relationship with y/n and a emotional support cat.

Stop you silly siren- ask focused

suns a tired Pirate. moons a silly siren. Eclipse is an angry sea captain. Popped in my head. want to see were it leads.

Creature dca- I made it for fun.

a random look for sun n moon. Has flip floped between being and basic non animatronic form to fey creatures that deal with changelings and guardian God entities.

Star foolery- a word for silly situations with no lore ties.

basic place for me to draw the dca in different situations. no major story but has lore. does occur during after and before in dca history

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cryptidvaquero · 7 days ago

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blurb from my courier's backstory

i started writing out my courier's past and her time in the Mojave earlier today and I'm actually enamored with how it came out. i thought i'd share this little piece of it!!

(courier is not described, so feel free to insert your own into it. this is mostly told from the perspective of Sunny Smiles.)

There is a glaring, bleeding problem here.

Sixteen-year-old Sunny Smiles, de facto protector of her ghost town, sits perched upon the rickety steps of the Goodsprings Saloon, watching big-old-hunk-of-metal Victor drag in a corpse. Her eyes watch it carefully, but its body is stained brown with dirt and dust. There’s a trail of fresh blood dripping from a sizeable wound on its head. By all means, the person is dead.

Sunny doesn’t know much about Victor. She still had her grandparents around when he strolled into town some ten years ago. He keeps to himself in some shack outside of the abandoned schoolhouse. He’s programmed to speak in a country accent. He goes to Chet for spare parts when he needs a repair. Trudy doesn’t let him into the saloon. He doesn’t quite recall what he was up to before he came upon Sunny’s town.

What she knows for certain, though, is that he’s never gotten himself in the habit of picking up strays. Dead ones, at that.

Victor’s wheels softly whir as he takes the road up the hill to Doc Mitchell’s house. Another thing Sunny knows is that Victor’s never used his services before. That’s obvious, though. He’s a robot. He uses his big, claw-like hands to rap against the door. It opens, the corpse disappears into Doc Mitchell’s house, and Victor waits outside, too big to fit through the entrance.

Sunny goes to bed that night, knowing that she’s seen a corpse that day. Her dog, Cheyenne, tucks herself into her side. Sunny scolded her that day for sniffing mindlessly at the blood trail like she was tracking a wounded animal. Sunny goes to bed that night with the metallic smell of a corpse’s blood on her dog’s nose.

And Sunny wakes up the next morning when the sun rises. She chases geckos from the water pumps, and comes back to Goodsprings to find that the corpse is alive.

Doc Mitchell sits inside the Goodsprings saloon, nursing a cold bottle of water. To his left sits Easy Pete, who hums and grumbles in lieu of conversation. Across from him, Trudy leans against the counter, brows furrowed in interest as she gives up pretending to busy herself like the gossip she is.

“Yup, she’s alive alright,” Doc says. “I’m not confident, though.”

“You think they had anything to do with it?”

“Oh yeah. I ain’t never seen a group of Khans un-eager to take a life.”

“But the other one, though? He wasn’t a Khan.”

Sunny sits at the bar with the adults, to Doc Mitchell’s right. She remembers yesterday, hours before Victor dragged in the corpse (living person), when some men strolled into town. Great Khans as obvious as the sky is blue, sitting restlessly and making biting comments to Trudy when she refuses to give drinks on the house. They stewed in petulant anger until another man hissed at them to settle down. He wore a suit, and his hair reflected the yellow overhead lamps like it was caked in gel.

That man was no Khan.

“Did Victor say anything about what he saw?” Sunny pipes up, leaning in conspiratorially. She wasn’t much above gossiping, either.

Doc Mitchell shakes his head. “Not much. Just that he dug her up out of the cemetery. Tried searching through her things, to see if I could find a next of kin.”

Easy Pete grumbles something, curious.

“Ain’t nothing on her,” Doc Mitchell replies, shaking his head. “Some Mojave Express papers, but her name ain’t even on them. Just instructions.” Trudy ‘tsks’ and shakes her head, too. If anyone rivaled the sense of justice in this town, it’d probably be Trudy, though she’d never tell you as much. She takes care of her own, first and foremost.

“So… she’s a courier?” Sunny tilts her head.

“Bad business, that. Carryin’ valuables.” It’s the first full sentence Easy Pete has grumbled thus far.

“Well sure, but-” Doc Mitchell goes tight-lipped.

He sighs, pulling out a crumpled paper from his back pocket. On the top of the paper sits a big Mojave Express emblem. Sunny catches most of the words, however sparing the instructions are.

“All she was delivering was a poker chip.”

A poker chip? Yes, indeed. Sunny reads the instructions and finds that the titular package is, in fact, a platinum poker chip. She huffs.

“Well who would shoot a courier over a poker chip?”

#fallout #fallout: new vegas #new vegas #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #courier six #courier 6 #new vegas fic

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1863-project · 2 years ago

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As a Guy who Fixes Machines for a living, but unfortunately doesn't have Much experience with engines, *but* has read a Ton about them: please tell me about steam engines and/or their Repair Quirks and Logistics. Infodump Away :chinhands:

I'm going to be honest with you - this is one of the most flattering asks I've ever received in my 14+ years on this website.

Steam locomotives seem pretty overwhelming at first because, as you'd expect, there's a lot of moving parts, and they're actually huge. Like many large animals, people often don't realize how big they can actually get until they're in the presence of one. The one I drove, Strasburg #90, weighs in at 212,000 lbs - and she's smaller than a lot of the active steam locomotives operating today. 106 tons is nothing to sneeze at, and she's still considered smaller.

You probably don't need this in layman's terms, but I'm going to try to keep the explanations easy to understand in case anyone who doesn't work with machines reads this.

How do the beasts run?

Continuing the metaphor of these things basically being really large animals, you have to feed and water them. Early steam locomotives ran on wood, but as time went on the most common fuels became coal and oil, and today some can even run clean on vegetable oil or torrefied biomass. The fact that they need to be fed and watered fairly regularly is why there's always at least two people in the locomotive cab - you've got an engineer driving and a fireman keeping the beast fed and monitoring the water levels in the boiler.

This is a diagram of a fire tube boiler from Wikipedia. Steam locomotives generally use this type of boiler, which gives them their familiar shape. The fuel is thrown into the firebox on the left of the diagram, and the heat from the fire flows up to the tubes in the boiler. The water in the boiler becomes steam (specifically what's called "wet steam" because it's saturated). The steam rises to the highest point in the boiler, the steam dome at the top. From here, the steam is sent down into a superheater, which dries it out and produces superheated steam, and that's what's directed down to the cylinders to get everything moving. The smokestack on the right of the diagram is where the exhaust gasses are released, giving off that plume of smoke everyone expects to see.

Now that the steam is at the cylinders, the pistons can start pumping and moving the driving rods on the driving wheels (the big ones). Here's an animated gif of that process, again from Wikipedia.

At this point, it's basically like any other engine with pistons - the pistons get pumping and the machine starts operating. This whole section of the locomotive is referred to as the running gear, and includes the valve gear, connecting rods, brake gear, wheelsets, axleboxes, and springing.

Essentially, it's a steam engine with wheels that is capable of pulling incredible amounts of weight if everything is done correctly. Your average steam locomotive is still stronger than your average diesel or electric locomotive is. Depending on what you needed your steam locomotive to do, the size of the driving wheels would differ - locomotives built for high speed tend to have really large drive wheels, whilst locomotives designed to go slower but pull more weight have smaller drivers for better adhesion and traction.

Maintenance?

As expected, since they have a lot of moving parts, steam locomotives need a lot of active maintenance. They're checked frequently, have mandated annual inspections, and are required by the Federal Railroad Administration in the United States to have a more thorough inspection every 1,472 days of active service - so it's basically 15 years or 1,472 days of operation, whichever comes first. 90, the locomotive I drove at Strasburg, is currently undergoing her 1,472-day inspection as I write this post and she'll hopefully be back in operation for her 100th birthday next year.

One of the things that's unique about steam locomotive maintenance is that the boiler regularly has to be cleaned out, which is why the boilerplate on the front has hinges - that thing's a door! This job was more dangerous historically because boilers were often insulated with asbestos, but pretty much anything operating today has had any asbestos removed or wasn't built with it in the first place. This website has a really good explanation of the process of cleaning out and fixing up a locomotive boiler for a 1,472 day inspection, complete with photos!

In terms of steam locomotive shops, I'm biased towards Strasburg because I grew up going there all the time, but they really do perform incredible work. Late last year, one of their locomotives, #475, had a run-in with a crane left on the track due to a misthrown switch, and her smokebox took some damage. Fortunately, the damage was minor, and they were able to get her repaired in a mere 96 hours.

She now looks like this:

They opted to braze weld her and didn't smooth it out as a reminder to crews to stay vigilant, so she now has some really cool battle scars.

I'm not as well-versed in repair since I don't have hands-on experience with it (yet), but once I can start volunteering I'll hopefully have some more stuff to talk about since I'm hoping to learn to work with these machines more closely! (And drive. Drive all the time. Drive forever.)

#replies #copper-and-smoke #I like trains

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charlesandmartine · 3 months ago

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Saturday 11th January 2025

Hong Kong

A really strange thing happened as we emerged from our Airbus 350-900 at HK airport. All our fellow travellers had morphed into outfits that Scott of the Antarctic would have been happy for his tailor to provide. Why are they about to be released into the wild of HK wearing thick coats, and there's me in a tee-shirt and shorts. As the 'Arrivals' doors slid open, I understood why. It was 17 degrees and falling.

The sun rose in a cloudless sky, and out of the shade, it was quite warm. The problem is that with so many tall buildings in HK, you are all too often in shade.

We had a busy day ahead, and with no food kept in the flat at all, breakfast had to be bought. So first stop was a walk to Almond's Club, where we were duly signed in, and promptly served breakfast. Eggs Benedict with freshly pressed orange juice, not very Chinese, but it makes a change from chicken and rice. The views across the city from the 27th floor, in one direction, were stunning, but on the opposite side, you see the incredible views across the waterfront and across the waters to distant islands. Almond often works from this Club, and I can't imagine a finer location for an office. Then it was outside to catch a tram to the Waterfront and a Carnival in full swing. This is a really busy, vibrant, pleasant, colourful area, and the Carnival was attracting a good crowd. Almond works for a children's organisation called Rugby Tots. They were putting on a display on stage there as well as other young people's groups. The event was surrounded by a fairground worthy of any English village, with a ferris wheel, helter skelter, stalls with plastic ducks, burgers and hot dog stands, candyfloss, popcorn etc etc. Were it not for the dual language signs in English and Cantonese, it could have been the stage setting for an episode of Midsomer Murders. The young rugby players performed, and we left to catch a 20-minute ferry ride to Lamma Island.

Disgorged onto a little jetty, stacked full with hundred of cycles of all shapes and sizes, which tell the story of how this island is used. There appear to be no roads, so no cars on this small island, meaning inhabitants using the ferry to get to work on the mainland will cycle and dump their bikes at the jetty during the day. It was, after all, predominately a convenient dormitory island for workers. A nice island nonetheless, low level buildings only here, and unusually, not a tower block in sight. It had a Greek or Mediterranean feel to it, with little sandy beaches, but with the Chinese philosophy of where there are people, so also there will be the supporting services for them, such as street food vendors, grocers, laundries, and cycle repair places. After a pleasant stroll, ice cream, snack, it was back on the ferry as the sun started to set across the sea.

This evening, still not terribly hungry after a large breakfast and various snacks, we went out for an evening meal at the Rajasthan Rifles Indian restaurant, which is on the Peak looking down on the City. Great food, followed by amazing views of a City ablaze with light from the very exposed lookout point, and a very cold wind ruffling through our hair.

Tomorrow promises to be interesting. We are looking forward to spending a day with Almond's mum & dad.

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mikeepoo · 1 year ago

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Photo: C. 1883-1889. A 20-mule team before its 165-mile journey to the railhead in Mojave, California. Photo courtesy of the National Park Service The purpose of the twenty-mule-team wagons was to transport 10 short tons of borax ore per journey. The rear wheels, standing at a height of seven feet, were equipped with 1-inch-thick iron tires. The wagon beds, crafted from solid oak, measured 16 feet in length and 6 feet in depth, with an empty weight of 7,800 pounds. The convoy, extending over 180 feet with mules in tow, consisted of three wagons: the first as a trailer, the second known as "the tender" or the "back action," and the last serving as a water tank. When loaded with ore, the complete weight of the mule train, including the wagons, amounted to approximately 73,200 pounds. The water tank, holding 1,200 US gallons, supplied the mules with water during the journey. An additional 500-US-gallon wagon was occasionally appended to deliver water to a dry camp along the route. Over a span of six years, the teams successfully transported more than 20 million pounds of borax out of Death Valley. The horses, positioned as wheelers closest to the wagon, were ridden by one of the two individuals typically required to operate the wagons. While larger than the mules, the horses were considered less intelligent and less adaptable to desert conditions. Remi Nadeau's historical account, "Nadeau's Freighting Teams in the Mojave," highlights the mules' superiority for general use in the desert region. The teamster controlled the team using a single long rein, known as a "jerk line," aided by a lengthy blacksnake whip. Typically riding the left wheeler, the teamster could also operate from the trailer seat, managing the brake on steep descents. The swamper, usually riding the trailer, would be positioned on the back action in hilly terrain to operate the brake. Armed with a can of small rocks, the swamper could encourage an inattentive mule to return to work. Both men were responsible for preparing the team, tending to the mules' needs, and addressing any veterinary or repair requirements. A mid-day stop allowed for feeding and watering the mules in harness, while night stops provided corrals and feed boxes. Each day's travel averaged around 17 miles, and the entire one-way trip took approximately ten days. The company constructed cabins at night stops for the use of drivers and swampers.

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gdmbrwiththerealcrew · 2 years ago

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Intro

Gravel riding had become much more popular over the past few years. The clear advantage is getting off busy roads and onto less traveled, often out of the way, dirt/gravel and single track routes. Several of our riding friends who also enjoy bike touring started looking at bike packing on gravel as an alternative. Somehow, a group of us with ties to past cross-country rides decided that we’d enjoy doing a multi-day bike packing trip together out West. And with that, commitments were made nine months in advance of this trip.

The crew includes Steve (that’s me), David, Ed, and Jose. Cumulatively, we have about 6 months of bike touring between us. Our touring miles probably exceed 7,500. However, for all of us, bike packing is a new thing. As of right now, two of us have tried it. I’ve got 4 days and 160 miles in the saddle and Jose has 2 days and 75 miles under his belt. We are all riding bikes with which we’ve never done extensive trips. As a matter of fact, all of our bicycles are new. Regardless, we’ve done our research and we are prepared for some high adventure.

So what are we riding you ask… I’ve got a Surly Ogre with a Moloko handlebar. All steel. 29 inch wheels. David is riding a Kona Unit X with a flatbar handlebar. Also steel on 29 inch wheels. Ed and Jose will be riding true gravel rigs with Salsa Cutthroats. Carbon. Drop bar handlebars. None of the bikes have suspension. It’s going to be interesting to compare bikes along the way!

Our gear will be carried in a variety of bags connected to our handlebars, forks, frames, and rear racks. Like previous trips we will carry all that we need, we hope. We’re self supported so we’ll have tents and sleeping bags, food and stoves, water purifiers, basic tools and parts for in field repairs, and clothing necessary to protect us from the elements.

The weather could vary greatly. We need to be ready for hot and cold as well as rain and snow. Fires have already been an issue to the north of our start so smoke could be a problem. Detours due to forest fires are also a possibility.

I’m sure you’re wondering where we are going. One of the most notable routes for gravel riding is the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. It runs ~2700 miles between Banff, Alberta to Antelope Wells, New Mexico. We are going to do the first 550 miles. We will start in Banff and head south. Ten days later, we will head west at Seeley Lake leaving the official route for our finish in Missoula on Day 11 or so.

We expect to camp most nights. Often times it will be primitive camping (think no toilets or potable water) in the wilderness. For two days we will be riding the Flathead alternative route in British Columbia known as the Serengeti of North America for its abundant wildlife and remoteness. Other days we may have no services (groceries, etc.) or very limited services. Our mid-trip rest day will probably be in Whitefish, MT where we can enjoy some r&r, assuming we can find hotel with vacancies.

All along the way we will get great views of the Rockies, crossing the continental divide multiple times. We will also pass through several small towns, some will be touristy this time of year while others will be more resource extraction-focused (coal, logging, quarries, etc.). Alberta, British Columbia, and Montana all have great natural beauty and significant exploitable natural resources.

With that… wish us luck!

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of-stars-and-dust · 2 hours ago

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Astronomy Picture of the Day

2025 March 28

Lunar Dust and Duct Tape

Image Credit: Apollo 17, NASA

Explanation: Why is the Moon so dusty? On Earth, rocks are weathered by wind and water, creating soil and sand. On the Moon, eons of constant micrometeorite bombardment have blasted away at the rocky surface creating a layer of powdery lunar soil or regolith. For the Apollo astronauts and their equipment, the pervasive, fine, gritty dust was definitely a problem. On the lunar surface in December 1972, Apollo 17 astronauts Harrison Schmitt and Eugene Cernan needed to repair one of their rover's fenders in an effort to keep the rooster tails of dust away from themselves and their gear. This picture reveals the wheel and fender of their dust covered rover along with the ingenious application of spare maps, clamps, and a grey strip of "duct tape".

Authors & editors: Robert Nemiroff (MTU) & Jerry Bonnell (UMCP)

NASA Official: Amber Straughn

A service of: ASD at NASA / GSFC,

NASA Science Activation

& Michigan Tech. U.

#nasa #nasa apod #apollo 17 #moon rover #2025 mar

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kingservices · 17 hours ago

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How to Prevent Cracks and Potholes in Your Asphalt Driveway

Asphalt driveways are under constant strain. Weather conditions, heavy trucks, and the passage of time all wear them down. But with a little maintenance, homeowners can avoid extensive damage and add years to their driveway’s life. Knowing how to care for your asphalt surface prevents expensive repairs and maintains your property’s appearance.

Water is asphalt driveway’s greatest nemesis. When water enters tiny cracks, it creates huge issues. Inside the cracks, this water freezes and expands in cold weather, creating larger cracks. The freeze-thaw process occurs repeatedly throughout many seasons, progressively damaging the surface of the driveway. Proper drainage is vital to avoiding this kind of damage. Driveways need to slope away from homes and garages. This allows water to run off the surface rather than collect and cause damage.

Regular cleaning protects asphalt from damage. Leaves, dirt, and debris hold moisture against the surface. This trapped moisture weakens the asphalt over time. Simple sweeping or using a leaf blower keeps the surface clean. Remove oil stains quickly because they can soften the asphalt. Special oil-absorbing products help clean these spills. A clean driveway not only looks better but also lasts longer.

Sealcoating is important for protecting driveways. Sealcoating protects asphalt from the sun, water, and chemicals. Imagine sealcoating as sunscreen for your driveway. The UV rays from the sun deteriorate asphalt, causing it to become brittle and crack. Most professionals say sealcoat every 2-3 years. Sealcoating should be done in warm, dry weather. This helps the sealer set well with the asphalt surface.

Weight management impacts the longevity of the driveway. Heavy machinery can tear up asphalt, particularly in high temperatures. Place large vehicles in alternative locations to distribute the weight. Never turn wheels while in place, as this can form ruts on the surface. Pointy objects such as motorcycle kickstands need to sit on metal plates in order to avoid punctures. These easy-to-follow habits ensure the structural integrity of the driveway.

Edge support stops cracks from developing along the edges. Without support, driveway edges will crumble and break. Proper edging installation or gravel base extension past the asphalt is the solution. Grass and vegetation must not grow too close to the edges of the driveway. Their roots will push up through the asphalt and cause cracks. Edging maintenance on a regular basis keeps these issues under control.

Early repair of cracks saves one money in the long term. Small cracks easily become larger issues if not taken care of. Water seeps into these openings and erodes the base material. Seal even small cracks with proper asphalt crack filler. Simple maintenance like this avoids more severe damage. Professional inspection can identify potential issues before they become evident.

Winter maintenance needs extra caution. Snow and ice removal procedures can harm asphalt. Metal scrapers and shovels scratch and gouge the surface. Plastic shovels and minimizing salt usage are recommended. Chemical de-icers seep into the asphalt and destroy it. Sand is more effective at providing traction without damaging the surface. Correct snow removal methods safeguard your driveway through tough winter seasons.

Is your asphalt driveway in disrepair? King Services offers top-notch professional asphalt driveway repair and maintenance throughout the area. Their highly trained staff applies the latest methods and superior materials to repair cracks, patch potholes, and avoid subsequent damage. Don’t let minor issues lead to costly repairs. Contact kingservices.ca today to book your driveway inspection and discover their thorough repair options. Maintain your driveway in pristine condition with assistance from the trusted professionals of asphalt maintenance.

#asphalt repair

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bayareaoutboardrepair · 2 days ago

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Bay Area Outboard Repair - Expert Boat Repair Services in Gibsonton, FL

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A well-maintained boat ensures safety, reliability, and optimal performance. At Bay Area Outboard Repair, we are dedicated to providing top-notch boat repair services, ensuring that your vessel remains in the best condition. Our team will assess the situation and provide the best solutions to get your boat back on the water as soon as possible.

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#boat repair

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