#*Car Keys

[hirocimacruiser]

Sakura Suzuki Mighty Boy Kei class pick up

[carlocksmithlawrenceville]

Car Locksmith Lawrenceville

Car Locksmith Lawrenceville GA is open 24 hours a day, every day including on all holidays. With well trained mobile locksmith service techs who are ready to help you when you locked keys in car or lost car keys and need unlock car service. Also, for when you need a fast locksmith for cars that can make car keys or reprogram your car key remote. Our service: *Locksmith Near Me *Car Keys *Mobile Locksmith *Unlock Car Service *Lost Car Keys *Key Replacement *24 Hour Locksmith *Locksmith Near Me *Locksmith Key *Mobile Locksmith Adrees: 242 Culver Street S. #212 Lawrenceville GA 30046 hours: Mon- Sun 8:00 Am- 8:00 Pm phone: 404-654-0372

15 $ off rekey locks service

http://carlocksmithlawrenceville.com

[olliedollie1204]

i'm so certain that brennan was so suspicious when that gamechanger filming was """""cut short"""" by a random car alarm, he probably wasn't even entirely surprised when it came time to film round 2. however the absolute fucking DEFEAT when he realizes that he completely failed to predict round THREE is what sent me over the fucking moon

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[mothssoup]

TRAFFIC SERIES RULE #1: don’t let grian at the explosives

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ ex-boyfriend's dad!nanami, half-asleep and groggy, can't wrestle the door open fast enough, the digital clock on the microwave stubbornly displaying a blurry 3:17 am. he can't fathom who'd be pounding on his door at this ungodly hour, but there you are, bathed in the faint glow of the porch light.

oh, he knows you. his son's girlfriend. he's seen you around, talked to you a handful of times. frankly, he can't wrap his head around what someone like you sees in his utterly unremarkable son.

you're undeniably beautiful. those short, playful skirts you favor do a remarkable job of accentuating the curve of your cute ass, a view he can't help but admire more than once, a secret indulgence that brings a flicker of shame.

your hair falls over your shoulders, a glossy curtain against the soft rise of your breasts. and unlike his son, you possess a genuine spark, an intelligence that shines in your eyes.

you're smart, too. he overhears snippets of conversations about your academic achievements, your post-college plans for the future. he knows you're destined for great things, he feels it.

tonight, however, a different set of emotions plays across your features. your eyebrows are drawn together in a tight line, your eyes wide and a little frantic, your cheeks flushed with an unexpected heat. you seem surprised to see him, as if you haven't fully registered he'd be here.

you’ve always liked nanami, though. what isn't to like? he possesses a quiet kindness, a gentle strength, and the fact that he's great to look at. clad often in a partially buttoned dress shirt, the sleeves pulled taut around his impressive biceps, sometimes paired with a tie (that you wouldn't mind having wrapped around your own neck…).

his gaze, a little guilty, slides down your body, taking in the tight, shimmering fabric of your party dress. the faint but distinct scent of alcohol that clings to you confirms his suspicions about your evening.

a soft “oh, shit,” and a mumbled apology escape your lips. beneath the surface of your distress, he detects an edge of anger. what fresh catastrophe has his son managed to work up this time?

nanami can't leave you standing there, a gorgeous, tipsy thing alone in the dark. it isn't the way he was raised, nor the values he’s desperately tried (and clearly failed) to instill in his disappointing offspring.

he gently guides you inside, his hand a warm pressure on the small of your back, firmly suggesting you won’t be driving anywhere tonight. your flushed cheeks deepen at his unspoken disapproval.

“what are you even doing here?” he asks, his voice a low, steady rumble as he places a tall glass of water on the coffee table, a silent directive to drink it all.

“forgot he… forgot he lives with you,” you murmur, a wave of belated embarrassment washing over you. how pathetic. you’ve actually thought… what? that your useless ex would be home? alone?

nanami settles beside you on the worn couch, his presence a quiet anchor as you haltingly recount the messy details of your boyfriend’s infidelity, the news delivered by the oblivious other woman.

“i thought he’d be at home, or something. you know, i hear from… from his fucking side-chick. she doesn’t didn't know about me, i can’t even be mad at her. he says he…”

your voice trails off, your thoughts momentarily lost as you become acutely aware of the casual brush of nanami’s fingers against your bare thigh. it starts innocently enough, a comforting touch, but then it lingers, a slow, deliberate path upwards.

you haven't registered how your dress has bunched around thighs in your agitated state, but he has. nanami's eyes flicker downwards, his tongue running over his lips.

“you can keep talking,” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky sound that sends a shiver across your skin.

“um, well…” your eyelids grow heavy, your head tilting back against the plush headrest. “he just… he isn’t that great, anyway,” you whisper, unsure of whether to be slandering his son, while he's actively feeling you up.

you get an idea that he doesn't care much, though.

it feels surreal, confessing your relationship woes to your ex-boyfriend’s father while his hand is venturing further north.

before you can fully process the shift, his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress, the cool touch sending a jolt through you. he nudges aside the delicate lace of your panties, his fingertips pressing against the slick heat between your legs. a gasp hitches in your throat.

“yeah? then why don’t you leave him?” nanami presses, his voice thick with a low groan as a soft whimper escapes your lips. his fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you arch slightly.

your eyes flutter open, just enough to meet his intense gaze. “what excuse do i use to see you, if i do?” the confession hangs in the air, thick with an unspoken desire.

“shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, his words swallowed by the wet, squelching sounds that fill the quiet house. his fingers deepen their exploration, stroking and teasing the sensitive nub hidden within your folds.

you cry out softly, your hips lifting involuntarily as he finds a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. he tastes the sweetness on his fingertips as he brings you to a shuddering climax, then another, and a third, each one pulling a desperate moan from your throat until you finally collapse against him, breathless and utterly spent.

you'd been planning to key that cheater's car, but now, in complete honesty, you might thank him. besides, fucking his dad is enough revenge.

[morganbritton132]

Every time Eddie is around, Hopper checks his pockets. Steve notices and calls him out on it because, “The charges were dropped against Eddie. You’re treating him like a criminal when he wasn’t even arrested for theft. You’re being…”

“Prejudice,” Nancy suggests at the same time Robin says, “A bastard…sorry, Chief Hopper.”

“Offensive, is what you are,” Steve continues. “He helped save the world. You should be ashamed.”

And like, yeah. Maybe he should be ashamed for acting like a poor kid from the bad part of town is trying to steal his shit except…

Except, Hopper has been dealing with Eddie trying to steal his shit since he first met the kid fifteen years ago.

Where do you think Eddie got those handcuffs?

[austim]

Cars, Explosions, & Hammers Stimboard for @photomatt (unrequested)

🚗 💥 🔨 | 🚗 💥 🔨 | 🚗 💥 🔨

DISCLAIMER: This post is intended to be a joke (noun; something said or done to provoke laughter) and is NOT a death threat directed to anyone at all, including any Tumblr staff.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Oh Kei! Honda Z360 GT, 1970. Honda's N360 not only dominated the Kei car market in the late 60s it also helped to grow the market hugely (rising from approximately 100,000 cars in 1968 to 750,000 in 1970). The Z was a coupé version of the N-series that was also exported with larger engines but sticking to a 36hp 354cc SOHC 2 cylinder engine to remain within Japan's kei regulations.

[thefallenangel2008]

Ok, so we know that Stan makes really silly and cartoonish doodles but what if he could also draw really fucking good? Like, yeah, sure, he was discouraged from making comics, but maybe he still sketched stuff he saw from time to time. Stan was definitely the type of kid to sketch the girl he's crushing on on his notebook during class.

Anyway, cut to post Gravity Falls. They're in the Stan o' War II, and ig Ford is looking for something and he goes to his and Stan's shared room. He sees scattered papers and pencils on Stan's desk and he assumes it's another Lil Stanley comic. Curious, Ford moves aside some papers to get a better look at the his brother's drawing, only to be met with a really impressive and detailed drawing of the Stanleymobile. And he just goes "holy fuck".

[saltedbirdcat]

The way that the Wizard probably offered Elphaba everything from power to riches but it’s the chance to be with Glinda that breaks her iron resolve she’s so obvious and down bad 😭

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

I adore that Nat is canonically a terrible driver. She's even got Misty holding on to the dashboard for dear life.

[day-colors]

perfect gift from me to you

[rooftopdaigos]

babysitters

[i-think-too-loud]

“Mind the roses when you drop. Mom’ll kill me if you fuck ‘em up.” and then he rips one off the bush.

jeremy knox i see you. i see what you did. i’d be hoping he dies too

[didi-doof]

suave, stylish, swishy coat