turbo two

tbh i love reading about pages, i’m so nosy.  the second i discover a new tumblr i haven’t seen before i go in and read all the about pages and byfs and faqs and blacklists and everything.  all of them.

Imagine Data Sneaking Kisses in the Turbo Lift

Imagine Data Sneaking Kisses in the Turbo Lift

Requested by: Anonymous


The first time he kissed you in the turbo lift, it was on the cheek.

Then Geordie walked in.

The next time it was on the lips.

Then the Captain walked in.

This was the cycle. Data would some how know the perfect timing and pepper you with kisses and some how manage to think he was being convincing. He though he was honestly fooling the entire crew.

In reality, everyone knew.

This was partially because you can’t control when you blush.

The other part, was Data would make up a subject that you two had allegedly been discussing.

It was always something to do with romance, or kissing, or the biological chemistry behind relationships.

He would try to pick something distant however even he slips up.

It became a running joke amongst the rest of the crew, which you were oblivious to.

Until today.

You walked over to the turbo lift and found two ensigns kissing. You coughed getting them to break apart so you could get up to your station.

Then one of them said

“Haha… guess I pulled a Data.”

You stared at the ensign.

“Excuse me?”

“You know! Like how Lt. Commander Data is always kissing his girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever in the turbo lift”

The other ensign was mortified. Only managing to say

“Um… that is his…”

Which made them bolt out of the lift on the next floor.

As Data stepped in.

“Oh good Data I have something we need to talk about”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, feather light.

“Yes Darling?”

You suddenly felt tongue-tied

“Never mind it can wait.”

He nods and pressed another kiss to your forehead then peppered a trail of them down till he reached your lips. There he held a still delicate kiss till pulling away as the lift doors opened.

“Oh hello Geordie, [_______] and I were just discussing the greatest romantic works in old earth literature”

Geordie was clearly trying to hide a smirk. Your face was burning red.

“Uh huh, well I’m sure that makes for… interesting conversation.”

You really need to talk to Data about subtlety.

Taking Care of Business

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS/TOS)
Pairing: 
 None.
Prompt: Requested by Anon - I wish you would write a fic where… the reader is Bones’ infant daughter and their adventures with the space family. 
Word Count: 2336.
Warnings:
childhood shenanigans.
Rating: All ages.
Author’s Note: My second kid!reader fic.  The pet name Chekov uses, Сладкая (pr. sladkaya), is Russian for sweetie.  In conferring with Anon, I discovered that they meant toddler rather than infant, so I’ve taken the liberty to make the reader five years old.  I hope you guys enjoy it!


Taking Care of Business

It had taken Leonard a little bit of convincing to get Jim to put in a good word with Starfleet in his favor; he’d wanted to bring you aboard the Enterprise for a month-long tour out in deep space while Jocelyn dealt with some family drama back on Earth. Eventually Jim had agreed and he’d really gone to bat for your dad, ultimately convincing Starfleet that they should allow it.  Of course, he’d had to promise them that you wouldn’t interfere with the doctor’s work, but once the reassurances had been made, they’d agreed.

Now, you’re a member of the crew.  As a welcome aboard, some of the CMO’s nurses had gotten you a tiny purple uniform dress with a Starfleet badge with a heart cut into it on it and you’ve worn it every day.  You’ve become a part of the family already, though you’ve only been on board for a few days, and the entire crew adores you.

You giggle as you sit on your uncle Jim’s lap with him bouncing you on his knee.  He’s sitting in his big important chair on the bridge and he’s told you that you’re in charge for the day.  Being the captain is a pretty big responsibility for a five-year old, but you’ve got this.

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Things I need if 5ds ever reboots

5ds to pull a fullmetal alchemist brotherhood and get a redo (and a much better one like brotherhood)

Yuseis mom

FOR JACK NOT TO BE THROWN AS A COMEDIC SIDE CHARACTER

Yuseis mom

Jacarly not to be thrown under the bus

the actual yuaki thing to be shown as Canon!

have I mentioned Yuseis mom?

Yuseis future after the end of the series (seriously we got everyone else’s)

Some sort of prequel oneshot to all the signer parents (headcanon that the parents all knew each other somehow or another before zero reverse)

an interaction with yusei and his mom

TEAM 5DS PULLING THEIR GODDAMN WEIGHT INSTEAD OF MAKING YUSEI THE HERO FOR EVERYTHING (I know he’s the main character and all but I mean come on.. Jack was the king of Turbo dueling for like two years, aki was the black rose witch, ruka was like a prodigy duelist at the age if three, and motherfucking crow beat security in a OTK. GIVE THE TEAM SOME GODDAMN CREDIT!)

Yusei and his dad to have a nice interaction instead of some good hocus pocus mambo jambo

I REALLY WANT TO SEE YUSEIS MOM BECAUSE WE ONLY GOT A PICTURE OF HER AND THAT WAS IT! LIKE SHE WAS NEVER MENTIONED OR SEEN AGAIN! LIKE WHERE WAS SHE AT WHEN SHIT WENT DOWN!

@yugirl-with-dragons

3

This is Turbo. Turbo is a 1981 Datsun 280zx Turbo. I also own a drafting table and a laptop that go by the name “Turbo”; officially, Turbo-the-Car’s name is Turbo Turbo, Turbo Turbo, skipping from two Turbos to four and leaving a space in there for a Turbo the Third that may or may not ever exist.

Turbo goes by a few other names:

  • Sweet, sad rust child
  • Turbo Hypercube
  • Traybo
  • intermittently mobile dumpster fire

I love Turbo. It is easier to love Turbo than people. Turbo doesn’t have opinions on politics. Turbo never yells at me, unlike the cat. Turbo merely requires a lot of babysitting. Even though this can be frustrating, the car’s behavior tends to be comprehensible, unlike the behavior of humans (or cats). I have learned that certain temperatures require me to pump the gas pedal a little before I start the car. Turbo runs better at higher speeds, with few stops, without anything extra drawing battery power. I’ve gotten really good at slamming the car into park and restarting it when it dies at stoplights. I’ve learned that the fuel gauge doesn’t tell me how much fuel I have, but instead tells me about fuel pressure, which is Incorrect but, what’re you gonna do.

Even though I love Turbo, Turbo confuses others. My apartment complex, for example, otherwise has a great relationship with me but hates my car and tries to ding me on every car-related thing they can - presumably because said car looks like it was hauled out of the city dump. My friends sometimes make fun of me for the fact that I bought a car that ends up in the shop so often.  The truth is, even as I slowly work through the car’s many and varied mechanical issues, I enjoy the fact that it looks like a total piece of shit. 

That trait - its shittiness, its mobile dumpster fire-ness, did me a huge favor today. My memory is also an intermittently mobile dumpster fire, and I could not find my car keys. I decided I would walk to my destination. On the way past my car, I peered inside - just in case my keys might be in a shopping bag, or on the seat.

I don’t lock my car. The locks don’t even always work, for reasons that are unclear. If someone wanted to be in my car, they could do so easily. People walk past my car all the time, at all hours of the day and into the night. Despite this, when I looked inside, I found my car keys. They weren’t in a shopping bag, or jammed between the seat cushions.

They were in the god damn ignition, right where I had left them about 12 hours before.

I can’t even be mad at myself about this kind of thing anymore. Through years of trial and error, it’s become clear that this is a Brain Problem, not a Not Trying Hard Enough Problem. There’s a sort of abstract sadness to it - it’s sad that you’re an adult that does things like leave keys in the ignition of your unlocked car so regularly - but mostly, it’s funny. You know what I mean?

Turbo looks like such a total piece of shit that even the laziest possible thief isn’t interested. Nobody wants this car. My car protected itself from theft by being hot garbage.

I love that. I love Turbo.

5

Porsche 930 Turbo SE, 1985-1989. Two of only 50 “Flatnose” Porsche 930 Turbos are to be auctioned at Silverstone Auctions’ inaugural Porsche Sale with partner, Porsche Club GB, which will be held at Silverstone Circuit on 25 October. The 1985 example was the first UK delivered car and served as Porsche GB’s press car. Presented with original documents, rare factory options and 33,500 miles, number one of 50 has an estimate of £150,000 - £170,000. The second car was the last example to leave the factory in May 1989 and is number 50 of 50 UK-specification models made. Complete with engine upgrades by Ruf Automobile GmbH and manual five-speed ‘G50’ gearbox, the car is estimated to sell for £150,000 - £170,000

4

Renault R5 Turbo, 1980. Based on the Renault R5 hatchback but with the engine turbo-charged and placed amidships, the R5 Turbo was primarily designed for rallying. The new rear bodywork was styled by Marcello Gandini at Bertone. In line with Group 4 homologation rules 400 road cars had to be built as well as the dedicated rally versions. In fact in total 3576 R5 Turbos were manufactured during a four-year production run in two series (Turbo and Turbo 2)

Pint-Sized

Ao3
ff.net


           When Bentley realized that Dipper and Torako were no longer anywhere near the cart, he stopped dead in the middle of the frozen food section and stared at the bags of mixed medley and stir fry in suspended animation.

           “They’re up to no good, aren’t they,” he asked one particularly limp bag. It bobbed up and down in place and didn’t respond; if it had, Bentley probably would have just stared at it a bit more and then moved on.

           He sighed, swiped the thermoshield out of the way, and snagged first the sad bag of peas and carrots, then a more robust package of green beans. He tossed them into the cart, tilted his head and surveyed his options, then pulled a New California Medley mix from the bottom and slid the thermoshield back in place. He dropped the frozen veg on the other two bags and surveyed his cart. Milk, eggs, cheese, summer sau—he was going to put the summer sausage back, dammit Torako—bread, another small container of ice cream, and he was maybe halfway through the list at this point.

           Bentley scratched that the back of his head, and then pushed the shopping cart forward. Judging by the whine of the front hoverpad, it needed to see some maintenance soon. “If they don’t show up soon,” he muttered to himself, quiet enough that the old lady at the end of the aisle wouldn’t hear him, “I’m going to get myself a bag of goddamn chocolate croissants and eat them all by myself.”

           That was, of course, too much to hope for; not ten seconds after he’d turned the corner, he heard the crackle of the intercom. “Ah, um, would a Bentley Farkas come up to the customer service desk? Your children have been found. Repeat, Bentley Farkas to the customer service desk please.”

           Bentley stopped between aisles 9 and 10 and looked down at the sad bag of peas and carrots again. “I’m going to kill them before we leave the store, aren’t I?”

           The bag did not respond. Bentley sighed, then turned the cart around and headed for the service desk at the front of the store.

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