#Cap would be super enthused about the project too

[theologicalphysics]

Some people (albeit not nearly enough people) write fic where Mike communicates with Robin or Julian via the lights or a laptop.

Nobody ever makes use of Fanny appearing in photos. I want a fic where Mike buys a Ring doorbell and hangs a copy of this cheatsheet near the front door so he can talk to the sensible ghosts for a change...

[songbirdsingingthings]

Common Sense - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

A/N: So I got this idea, ran with it, and then somehow 3,000+ words came out of it. Honestly, I’m kinda really proud with how it turned out and I hope y’all like it too.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 3.1K

If there was ever a phrase that Shouto Todoroki hated, it would be ‘common sense’. What a weird phrase, he would think, because the use of common sense implies that it’s something that everyone should know, but in most cases, he didn’t. Unfortunately, that phrase left the lips of his friends quite often. He knows they mean no harm or ill will towards him, he was sure they would stop using the term if he ever mentioned how he felt about it, but he didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable. The first time it started to get on his nerves was when he, Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka were at the mall on a rare weekday off.

“Wow, hey, look at that!” Uraraka had exclaimed, running as quickly as her feet could carry her over to a newly implemented little wishing well that had been placed in a small corner of the outdoor mall. Midoriya and Iida quickly followed her, but Shouto hung back.

“C’mon Todoroki, let’s go make a wish!” Midoriya urged, beckoning him over with a wave of his hand. Shouto followed him, albeit a little confused, over to the well.

“Does anybody have a quarter I could use? I forgot to bring change with me, I only have bills in my wallet.” Uraraka blushed, her expression a bit embarrassed.

“Of course!” Iida said, fishing two quarters out of his billfold, handing one to Uraraka and keeping the other for himself. Todoroki watched his three friends close their eyes and then flip their coins into the well, taking note at how they sank slowly into the water.

“Todoroki, aren’t you going to make a wish?” Midoriya questioned, a patient smile on his lips. The expression of confusion remained on Shouto’s face.

“What merit do coins have on wishes?” He asked, genuinely curious as to why his friends would technically throw away money in turn for a wish that would most likely be out of their reach or unrealistic. “Also, aren’t we using money to pay for things within the stores here? I thought that you were saving up for that new jacket, Uraraka.” He wondered, turning to look at the pink-cheeked girl. She just smiled and shook her head.

“Todoroki, a small little coin wouldn’t have much effect on my savings. Besides, it’s kinda common sense to enjoy the little things like this and not pay too much mind, right?” Iida and Midoriya nodded enthusiastically, nudging the red-and-white haired boy closer to the water-filled wishing well. He sighed and thought over Uraraka’s words. It’s kinda common sense to enjoy the little things? He thought as a quarter was forcibly put in his hands. He closed his eyes to humor his friends and dropped the coin in the well. He was then afterward given smiles and some reassuring pats, and as much as he knew his friends were making efforts to include him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit… coddled. He knew that as a child he was always shielded from the world, but was he really kept away from this much? Was he seriously hidden from such superficial subjects? He tried to ward away those questions that poked and prodded at his brain, but he couldn’t seem to shrug them off as he observed his friends dart in and out of multiple stores with shopping bags in their hands. Shouto ended up bringing nothing back to the dorm with him, except for a sudden slight contempt for a tiny little phrase.

The next circumstance was when he and Bakugou were at the remedial lessons. While Shouto wasn’t incredibly enthused about going through extra lessons in order to gain his provisional license, he understood why he needed to go and appreciated the effort and lengths that the teachers went to so that he could have another chance. Well, he, Bakugou, Inasa and a girl who just introduced herself as Camie to him and the explosive-quirked boy.

“So, who’s this smoldery looking two-toned boy?” She had chirped, her hand clutching the brim of her Shiketsu high cap. “You’re, like, super hot. I’m crazy siked to train with a babe like you!” Even Shouto had to admit to himself that this girl was coming onto him really strong - and not exactly in the most flattering way possible. She greeted Inasa briefly, but then dug into her pocket to grab her phone, holding it out in front of Shouto. “Seriously, can I, like, have your number?” Hesitantly, Shouto responded.

“Uhh, sure.” He replied, but made no effort to grab his own phone that was safely tucked away in his blazer pocket. He found her interactions with others to be quite shallow in the way that she really gave no information about herself. Camie tended to project more onto others, he figured. As he and Bakugou walked to the changing room specifically set aside for UA students, Shouto noticed the look of disapproval on the blonde’s face. Shouto just quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing that he didn’t need a vocal cue to get Bakugou to start talking.

“You seriously agreed to give your number to that chick at the drop of the hat? Do you not have any standards, Icyhot?” He growled, Bakugou’s signature scowl now adorning face. 

“What do you mean? I just assumed she would need it in case of emergencies.” Shouto explained. With a roll of his eyes and a look that conveyed Bakugou wanted to rip his own hair out, the blonde glared at him.

“YOU DON’T JUST GIVE A NUMBER TO A GIRL YOU JUST MET! GET TO KNOW HER OR SOMETHING YOU HALF-AND-HALF BASTARD! IT’S JUST COMMON SENSE!” Shouto was used to Bakugou’s outbursts and never took any of what he said personally, but now that was the second time the phrase common sense was used at his expense… and it irked him. Shouto’s eyes narrowed as he watched Bakugou trudge and stomp his way through the door and into the changing room. And, not unlike the first time he heard it, the saying ‘common sense’ left a foul taste in his mouth.

Finally, the most recent time he heard it, was from the person he probably despised the most. His own father. Shouto was visiting his home - which happened rarely and the time he spent there was brief - to speak with and catch up with his sister, Fuyumi. Unfortunately, just as he was about to leave, the number two Pro-Hero walked through the door.

“Shouto, you’re home!” He bellowed, a grin plastered under his flaming mustache. Shouto frowned and narrowed his eyes as he navigated around the stocky man, making his way out of the door. He adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag after it was jostled by unintentionally brushing roughly past his father, but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. With narrowed eyes and a frown-turned-grimace on his face, he turned around to face the fire-quirked man.

“Do you have something to say or will you let me be on my way?” Shouto glared, making Endeavor bristle.

“Yes, Shouto, I have something to say indeed!” The flames on his body seemed to grow larger, proving another example of a concept Shouto recently learned in class: direct variation. “You haven’t bothered to return any of my calls or my text messages to you regarding personal training! It’s no wonder you didn’t pass your provisional licensing exam!” Flames emitted from his father’s body out of rage, and as much as Shouto tried not to let it out, a small wisp left his left side.

“I’m not interested, and I’ve told you as such.” Shouto grits out, resuming his previous pathing of making his way out of his childhood home. 

“You respond to your father when he reaches out to you! IT IS COMMON SENSE!” Endeavor shouts, causing Shouto’s body to go rigid. He clenches his jaw and twists around. His father saying that hated term was the last straw for him.

“IT IS NOT COMMON SENSE IN RELATION TO YOU!” Shouto barks out, frost and flames growing on their respective sides. And, with that, Shouto finally leaves the metal gates of his home, slamming them behind himself as he left. He cringed a bit at the loud clanging noise it left behind, but he was too furious to really care. He did feel bad for his classmates as they saw him enter the doors of the dorm building with a scowl almost comparable to Bakugou’s, not even sparing them a word as he left them in the common room and shut himself up in his dorm.

At the current moment, Shouto is shifting somewhat uncomfortably on one of the many cushions that were dotted around the main floor common room. It was late in the evening, but the energy coming from the Class 1A dorms was much larger due to it being a Friday night. After a particularly hard week at school, Mina Ashido and Eijirou Kirishima had proposed the idea of a Class 1A slumber party in the main room and that everyone had to come. There were no exceptions to this rule, they explained - even a glaring Bakugou was nestled into the corner of the room with a weighted blanket on top of him and a pillow. It was truly a wonder that he hadn’t tried to escape or fall asleep yet, but the rest of the class didn’t dare to ask him. Denki had tried it earlier and was greeted with a small explosion to the face and a few very choice words spat at him. This was a first for the red-and-white haired boy - never had he had a sleepover, much less a slumber party, so the pillow fights and truth-or-dare games that were being played were more or less foreign concepts to him. However, here was one thing he did know. It was that he found a sense of peace when looking at you. As a strong and powerful hero-in-training, he had always kept an eye on you in training to try and better prepare himself for an attack. But recently, he noticed that his gaze always gravitated to you whenever he was in the classroom or in the dining room. Whether it was the sun shining on your Y/H/C hair or the smile that sprouted from your lips whenever someone cracked a joke, he found them much more interesting since they were coming from you. Before long, the two of you had developed a solid friendship that involved everything - from studying together in the library to going on late night soba runs, he found you to be a much needed source of support in his life. What he didn’t realize would happen, though, was heat creeping up onto his cheeks when you locked eyes with him. You did nothing to make him feel embarrassed - just offered him a kind smile and began to make your way over to him, but the blush on his cheeks was unrelenting. He even tried to activate his right side in the hopes of cancelling it out, but to no avail. Thankfully to him, you didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s getting kinda crazy in here, huh.” You say, trying to spark up a conversation between you and him. Shouto, not finding any words, merely nodded his head. “It’s fine to be overwhelmed,” you continued, “I remember the first time I had a sleepover when I was nine years old. I had to call my parents to pick me up early because I felt like it was too suffocating,” you laugh, poking fun at your younger self’s obseredity. This cracked a small smile on Shouto’s lips. “Tell me if you need an excuse to get out of here - I have several stored up in here from previous uncomfortable situations.” You say, pointing a finger up to your temple.

“I think Bakugou would benefit from that,” Shouto muses as both of your gazes flicker over to the sulking blonde. The sound of your laughter does wonders to soothe the antsy feeling he had previously in his chest.

“Okay, well, us girls are going to get ready for bed in my room! We’ll be back any minute, so no need to worry!” Mina announces, sending a smile to the boys as the girls got up one by one and grabbed their pajamas. You gave Shouto a smile and a pat on the shoulder before standing up. You stretched your arms above your head due to the ache that was ever prominent from the endless days of training finally catching up to you. 

“Alright, I’ll be back soon. Save me a good spot?” You ask, backpedaling slowly so that your face was still turned towards Shouto. With a small smile, he nodded.

“Sure thing.” With a quick thumbs up and a little spring in your step, you spun around to quickly follow the rest of your female classmates. As soon as the door was shut, Denki had motioned for all of the guys to come to the middle of the room. Shouto, figuring that they were just going to talk about how they should figure out sleeping arrangements, shuffled closer as well. Oh, how wrong he was.

“So, now that the girls are gone for a bit, I gotta know. Who do you guys think the prettiest or, my preferred adjective, hottest girl in class is?” Immediately, Shouto’s eyes widened at the subject of conversation and how unabashedly forward he was. The red-and-white haired boy was even more shocked when the rest of the guys started talking.

“Well, we all have to admit that Momo is very pretty.” Sero says, earning nods from around the room.

“I think I know who Midoriya is gonna say,” teased Denki, nudging the green-haired boy’s side with his elbow.

“I-I don’t really know what you guys are on about?” Midoriya said, his voice octaves higher than normal. Snickers erupted from the boys as they all - even Shouto unconsciously - came to the same conclusion that Midoriya was thinking of a certain pink-cheeked brunette.

“I think that Hagakure is pretty.” A small voice peeped. All heads turned to face Ojirou who had a shy smile on his face. The next few minutes of conversations were filled with the boys commenting on how pretty the girls were in their class, going from Tsu to Mina, and then to Jirou.

“We all know you have the hots for Jirou, Denki, you don’t need to hide it.” Sero said, a mischievous grin laced across his face. The electric blonde’s jaw opened and closed like a fish before quickly changing the subject.

“W-well how about L/N?” He said, trying to get his nerves to dissipate. At her name being voiced, Shouto’s head perked up and, before he could stop the words from his mouth, he spoke.

“That’s just common sense.” The room went quiet as soon as Shouto’s words were spoken, all eyes on him. He couldn’t believe himself. That phrase, the one that irked him so much, he actually used. As much as he wanted to cringe at the use of it, he couldn’t help but understand why he used it. He had looked up the exact meaning of the phrase online before, and every site he found yielded the same results; a practical judgement concerning everyday matters. If someone were to lack common sense, then that person would usually be regarded as a simpleton or unintelligent. Well, Shouto couldn’t help but agree that if people had thought of Y/N as anything but gorgeous, then they were definitely lacking common sense.

“Uh, care to elaborate?” Kirishima asked, trying to prompt the red-and-white haired boy to spill his inside feelings that were usually never exposed to the rest of the group. Normally, Shouto would’ve put that iron gate back up around his mind and heart, but like a dam bursting and overflowing with water, he couldn’t help but let his drowning thoughts of Y/N consume his better judgement.

“It’s common sense that she’s pretty because she encapsulates everything it means to be as such.” The boys all leaned in closer to hear more, but were interrupted by a door swinging open.

“Okay, we’re back! Now, what movie should we watch? I’m kinda partial to Game Night, but am open to suggestions.” Mina chirps. The boys quickly dispersed from the middle of the room and back to their original spots. Shouto tried to find his bearings as quickly as possible since you were making your way back over to him.

“Hey! Sorry we took so long, Hagakure brought up the subject of Hawks and the girls just kinda latched onto talking about him and wouldn’t let go,” you joked, rolling your eyes playfully and settling down next to him. “Thanks for the spot by the way, it’ll be kinda cool sleeping next to each other!” Shouto looked down to where he had left your pillow and blankets and swallowed.

“Oh, uh, yes.” He said. That’s when he finally got a solid look at you. Dressed in soft-looking shorts and an oversized crewneck, you looked as cozy as could be. It was like a warm hug embraced his heart as he watched you shimmy under your blanket, shifting around to find the most comfortable position in order to watch the movie.

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?” You asked, offering him a giddy smile. Shouto’s smile grew larger as he too began to crawl under his blanket.

“I’m not sure, but I’m sure whatever the others decide on will be a suitable choice.” He said. You nodded in return. In the end, the class decided on a random rom-com they found while scrolling through one of the various streaming services the UA campus TVs provided. The overhead lights of the common room were turned off, so only the blue-ish light emitting from the TV made your faces visible to each other.

“Umm, Shouto?” You whispered. Shouto turned his gaze away from the movie and onto your face. With an expression that showed he was listening, he encouraged you to continue your thoughts. “I just wanted to thank you for your compliment earlier, I… I thought it was super sweet.” Shouto’s mind ran a rerun of the day, trying to think of the specific compliment he had given you, until he arrived on the one he indirectly gave you just an hour earlier. His eyes widened and his heart began to beat more quickly as you nudged your way closer to him. “I think it’s common sense that you’re pretty, too.” Shouto drew a shaky breath as your nose brushed against his.

“May I…?” He asked, his voice so trembly that he couldn’t create a full sentence. Thankfully, though, you seemed to understand.

“Mhm” You hummed, meeting him halfway. It was perfect. Slow and sweet, showing how he was truly savoring the experience. A hesitant hand made its way up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across it. While the rest of the class was indeed there, this moment was incredibly private to the both of you. Just you, Shouto, and the common sense shared between you two that you were irrevocably and incandescently in love with each other.

[angrylizardjacket]

i’ll be in the front row {Joe Mazzello}

Anon asked: lil prompt I thought of while doing my laundry: imagine meeting Joe while you’re both doing your laundry at a laundromat. it’s nyc, so apartments with full wash & dryer are hard to come by. joe is always running lines with himself, and you both sometimes loan each other quarters when one of you runs out.

Anon asked: tbh I don’t have anything specific to request, but I am begging you to please write more for Joe. srsly you write him so well & he deserves more content!!! 🐚 

A/N: 3269 words. my little garbage brain had to yell at me not to write this like the laundry scene from Dr Horrible. BIG FLUFF. set around undrafted. hope you enjoy. PLEASE leave feedback!! i love this so so very much omfg.

----

You always see him on Sundays, eleven in the morning, like clockwork. Dark sunglasses, fancy backpack, but nondescript clothes; sweater and jeans, baseball jersey and jeans, laundry day clothes if you’ve ever seen them. He’s a little familiar, but you’re not sure why. Sometimes he’s wearing a cap, but not with any sort of consistency, at least not in the six months since you’d been coming there. 

For the record, you’re not staring, he’s the only person who comes in at the exact same time as you, give or take fifteen minutes, and he, like you, always waits for his laundry. It’s only been in the past few months that you’d even started recognizing each other, smiling and giving the other a wave across the machines. It’s harmless, it’s people watching, it’s routine.

One morning, he’s sitting on his washing machine, with a pen in his mouth and a stack of papers in one hand. His usual sunglasses are propped up on his head, which isn’t an unusual occurrence when he reads - is it weird that you know that? Kind of. He’s highlighting something, mouthing whatever he’s reading too fast for you to catch, and anyways, you’re trying not to stare. You’re half paying attention to a kitschy game on your phone since your washing is almost done, and you heave your damp clothes into the dryer.

“Damnit,” patting your pockets again, and searching through your change, you can’t help but scowl and come to an annoying conclusion. All you have is a fifty, and the change machine in the laundromat only spits out quarters.

“You okay?” It’s the guy with the script, your quiet laundry buddy, looking at you with slight concern, pen still in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you huff a sigh, putting on a strained smile, “two quarters short for the dryer.” Usually you had smaller bills, or just remembered to bring the right change, “can you watch my stuff while I go to the gas station to get change?”

“I can cover two quarters,” he offers easily with a slight smile, pulling the pen from his mouth and putting it, the highlighter, and the stack of papers, onto the dryer after he jumps from it. You stumble through trying to brush him off and refuse graciously, but he’s already elbow-deep in his backpack, telling you it’s no trouble.

“I owe you,” you say with half a laugh, and he shares in your amusement.

“Yeah, I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with an amiable sarcasm, which has you laughing. After you start the dryer, however, you turn back and he’s regarding you with a frown, leaning on the washing machine with his stuff in it.

“Do I have something on my face?” You ask with surprising uncertainty, and he’s quick to clear the frown from his face as he shakes his head.

“No, it’s just kind of weird that we’ve been coming here for so long but never... like, spoken.” He muses, and you feel yourself growing surprised. He offers his hand. “Joe.”

“Y/N,” you say, shaking his hand firmly, and he quietly repeats your name back to himself, like he’s committing it to memory. Something warms in your chest, and you can’t help but look at the stack of papers he’d been focusing intently on, “may I ask what you’re working on?” And he looks confused for the barest moment, quickly followed by excitement, and then what you recognize as him very deliberately restraining that excitement into something more polite.

“It’s a script,” and he kind of sounds... apologetic?

“And...?” You prompt, before backpeddling, “I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine, I mean we technically just met -” and he’s waiving you off goodnaturedly.

“No, I know, I know,” he assures, “I just... another white guy writing a script in New York?” He makes a face, “get a real personality, am I right?” He laughs self-deprecatingly, but it seems to hit a little too close to home for him, and his expression falls. It’s a sentiment he’s been on the receiving end of far too many times.

“What’s it about?” You ask, gentle and genuinely curious, and his eyebrows raise in surprise as he meets your gaze. Tentatively hopeful, he explains that he’s on the fourth draft of it, that it’s loosely based on his brother’s experiences trying to make it into the Major Leagues in baseball. Most of it goes over your head, but you can’t help but be intrigued. 

“I’m not super big into baseball,” you admit as he’s winding down, “but it sounds awesome, dude; let me know when it’s in theaters and I’ll be in the front row.” He grins at that.

You exchange phone numbers a month later, the pair of you getting take out at the fast food joint across the road from the laundromat, so you could still at least keep somewhat of an eye on your clothes. He’s in between drafts of the script, and they’re actually in preproduction, and you realise oh, he’s actually serious about this.

“See, that’s the difference,” you tell him, leaning your elbows on the table and pointing a finger at him, “the difference is that you follow through.”

“What?” He laughs, not yet following your train of thought.

“Every other white guy in New York could write a script, but none of them would follow through and get it made; you’re ambitious, Joe.”

“I’m not ambitious, I’m just lucky,” he shrugs, a blush creeping up his cheeks, but you won’t let it slide.

“Luck will only get you so far,” you tut, and he gives you a strange look.

“Have you... never seen Jurassic Park?”

“When I was younger,” you shrugged.

“Or The Social Network?”

“I’ve really been meaning to, why?” 

“No reason,” Joe shakes his head with a disbelieving grin, and doesn’t bring it up again.

A few weeks later, he’s late by almost a full half an hour, which you’re not particularly bothered by, you get the impression that he’s a busy guy, but he runs in, laundry basket in hand, apologizing breathlessly. 

“No need to apologise,” you tell him with a bright smile, putting your phone away, “everything okay?”

“Budget meeting ran late,” he explains, gracelessly lumping his clothes into the washing machine and throwing a few tide pods in along with them, “filming’s so close, I just lost track of time.”

“Oh, shit really? Wait have you already cast it?” You asked with a surprisingly genuine excitement; over the weeks, you’ve become rather invested in this project.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” He asked with a grin, “casting was finalized two weeks ago; we start rehearsals next Saturday.”

“That’s so exciting!” You enthused, before laughing, “anyone I’d recognize?” And it’s mostly a joke, but Joe gives pause, evaluating you before he pushes start on his washing machine.

“I don’t know,” he answers genuinely, before conceding, “I mean, apart from me -”

“Acting, writing, and directing; does that make you a triple threat?” You asked coyly, and he breaks out into grin.

“And producing,” he reminds, and you make an impressed noise, nodding.

“Quadruple threat, excuse me.”

“But honestly, I don’t know if you’d recognize them; do you know,” and he goes back to the topic at hand, frowning a little, “Aaron Tveit?” You’re a little speechless, before answering.

“Not personally,” you find yourself answering, which gets Joe to laugh, “shit, dude, from Broadway?” And Joe’s wearing a proud little smile when he nods in confirmation, “and the Les Mis movie?”

“The very same,” Joe agrees, and your mouth hangs agape, “I told you, this is a real movie, I’m not filming this in my backyard,” after a beat, he licks his lips and jumps to sit on the washing machine, “have you seriously never googled me?”

“Why would I?” You asked, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head again in that way that you don’t quite understand. “Should I?” You finally ask, and Joe shrugs, smiling bright and carefree. He’s even swinging his legs, ankles crossed.

“I’m not a murderer, if that’s what’s got you worried,” he muses with a surprisingly carefree grin, “I mean, I’m kind of glad that you haven’t, it means you actually like me for me, you know?”

“Of course I do,” you answer automatically, and Joe’s expression turns fond, “I really like you, dude,” you explain, “I’m kind of in awe of what you’re accomplishing.” And you mean it with your whole heart, “if you’d prefer I didn’t google you, I won’t; I don’t make a habit of googling my friends, I won’t start with you.” When you say this, something about him relaxes, and he hops off the washing machine.

“Wanna grab lunch?” He asks with a smile, which you mirror without hesitation, and agree.

They’re filming out of state, which Joe tells you the week before he leaves, and you hadn’t realised how much you would miss him until the first Sunday rolls around, and you’re sitting in the laundromat alone.

Your phone goes off with a notification at exactly eleven.

It’s a photo of Joe and Aaron Tveit in baseball jerseys, covered in dirt, grinning.

[HOLY SHIT] you send back, following it up with [IS THAT] and then you wait a moment before adding [QUADRUPLE THREAT JOE MAZZELLO??] 

[christ 😳😅🥰] he sends back, and something about his restrained but still obviously flustered response has your heart skip a beat. [is it weird that i miss the laundromat?]

[yes 😂]

[and you of course i miss you too] he’s quick to follow it up with, and your own smile grows wider. You take a photo of the empty laundromat and draw in a terrible stick figure impression of him and send it back.

[miss u too haha] and you give pause before sending [hey if u ever wanna send other prod photos.......] [u don’t just have to send them on sunday]

[you haven’t signed an NDA 😂]

[joseph who am i gonna tell??]

[your other friends idk]

[my lips are ZIPPED 🤐] [photos for personal use only]

[personal use????? 😘😘]

[dont be GROSS]

[but i wanna be gross!!]

So now you’re flustered in the middle of the laundromat, completely at a loss as to how to respond to that. 

[are u flirting with me joseph?] you send back, and you watch the three little typing dots as they hover for a very long time.

[only if you’re into it]

Oh. 

[the FIRST WEEK YOU’RE AWAY FROM THE LAUNDROMAT AND YOU’RE PULLING THIS SHIT] [i AM into it but fuck 😳😅]

[I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR WEEKS]

Oh!

[OH]

[THE FIRST WEEK I’M AWAY FROM THE LAUNDROMAT AND YOU FINALLY PICK UP ON IT???]

[go direct ur baseball movie 🥰😅] you send, and tuck your phone away, feeling rather like a fool, but a pleased fool nonetheless, and you’re grinning for the rest of the day.

Photos are exchanged often after that, usually selfies, or photos of where either of you were, what you were doing, the flirting turning absolutely less subtle with each day that passes until you’re just complimenting each other, and mentioning occasionally how you miss the other.

When he sends a photo of himself posing against the fence of the dugout in a way that showed off his ass, you can’t help but make it your lock screen, though it’s quickly followed by a video and a text that reads [i was told i have to send you this too,,, for context].

“This feels undignified,” says a strangely familiar voice from off-screen, presumably filming, while Joe was trying to ask for opinions on how he should pose.

“This is undignified,” comes someone else’s response, and the camera swings around to reveal an amused Tyler Hoechlin, opening a water bottle, “this Y/N must be real cute.” In the background, a few others, vaguely recognizable, all in baseball uniforms, snicker.

“They are!” Joe answered defiantly, grinning, one leg up against the wire, looking over his shoulder, “are you filming me?” The camera flips around and you get a pretty glorious angle directly up Aaron Tveit’s nose.

“No -”

The video stops abruptly, and you’re all but wheezing with laughter, though all you send back is;

[so worth it] [ur ass *chef’s kiss*]

[THANK YOU] [you get it] [knew there was a reason i liked you so much]

The moment he gets back to New York, he asks you out to dinner. Of course you say yes.

For your third date, he offers to cook you dinner, and watch a movie, prefaced with a question that you’re surprised he still asks; have you really not googled me? And the honest answer you always give: no.

His apartment has a lot of movie posters, of movies you’ve heard of but never seen, or seen when you were very little.

“Big movie buff, obviously,” you note with a little smile, and he raises his eyebrows in amusement at your observation. Even moreso when you excitedly coo about how you haven’t seen Jurassic Park in so long when he suggests it.

“Your self restraint is godlike, babe,” he snickers, and you’re not quite sure what he means, you’re kind of just happy to be here. 

He cooks dinner, and you both sit down in front of his alarmingly big TV, and you feel a warm rush of nostalgia at the opening. You’re eating quietly, watching with rapt attention, but you can feel Joe watching you expectantly. 

“What’s up?” You ask, turning to him, confused, and his smile grows a little wider, and his gaze flicks to the screen for a moment, and then back to you.

“Just waiting for it to click.”

“For what to click?” 

“Babe,” and he says it like he can’t quiet believe it, his gaze now focused on the screen where the kids, Tim and Lex, were being introduced, “that’s me.” And follow his gaze and holy shit. A lot of things start making a lot more sense.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting your reaction to be, but the way your face lights up, and the unbridled enthusiasm and compliments that pour out of you, was not it, but he’s definitely not complaining. 

“Wait!” Your eyes sparkle as you look around his apartment, the movie posters he had everywhere now having a completely different meaning, “all these...?”

“Every single one,” he agrees, a little abashed, suddenly humble, and you grin when you finally look back at him.

“I didn’t think I could be more awed by you, but dude,” you enthused, “that’s cool as hell! You’re cool as hell!” But you take a deep breath, putting your plates onto the coffee table, sitting as close to him as you could, “but I would have thought the world on you even if you hadn’t done any of this,” and he tries to brush it off, but you’re adamant, “no, I mean it, I like you for you, Joe, not for what you’ve done, but... for who you are.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” he shoots for serious, but misses entirely thanks to his pleased little smile.

“Good,” you tell him seriously, and kiss both of his pink cheeks before kissing him. Your dinner might get a little cold after that, but you can always reheat it. 

You comfort him over the weeks it takes to edit him film, Undrafted, though he’ll never let you see too much of the final product; he wants you to see it in cinemas first.

It’s still kind of surreal to you that Joe Mazzello is both a movie star, and your boyfriend. He’s still friends with Laura Dern, and he also spends eight dollars a week at a laundromat to wash his clothes. Bizarre. But you kind of like how down-to-earth he is. 

What’s more bizarre is when he invites you to the red carpet premiere of his movie.

“Me?” You squeaked, and he seemed a little confused at your hesitation, his hands on your shoulders.

“You,” he nodded slowly, not understanding why you’re suddenly nervous.

“For real?”

“Yeah, of course I want you there; you said so yourself, you’d be in the front row, right?” He smiled a little and you could feel your heart melt.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you gently, “it’s one of the reasons I liked you in the first place.” He’s so earnest; you agree easily.

The red carpet is a whole other world, you find, dressed to the nines, styled by someone you don’t know, cameras flashing in your face -

“Is this Y/N?” Tyler Hoechlin is saying your name. What universe is this? Joe was blushing furiously with his arm around you as the cast made their way over.

“Finally, a face for a name,” and that’s Aaron Tveit; you have to remind yourself not to get star struck. Instead, you smile and offer your hand to them both, which they shake, smiling and greeting you warmly. 

“Don’t embarrass me, you assholes,” Joe warned, though his tone was amused, and the others chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Director,” Aaron assured.

“You’re good at doing that on your own,” Tyler added, and Joe gave him the finger, but held you a little tighter. 

“Did he send you the video of when he asked me to take that photo? You know the one,” Aaron asked, and you straightened your posture, grinning brightly.

“With an ass like his, I don’t know why you’d think it’s undignified,” you said loftily, and there was a beat as everyone took in what you said.

“I fucking love you,” Joe half laughed, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You’re good,” Tyler snorted, shaking his head with a grin, and Aaron was just straight-up laughing. The rest of the cast took to you easily, though most of the in-jokes among them went over your head, by Joe’s side, you never really felt left out. 

The theater itself was cool and dark, but you could feel the whole cast and crew thrumming with excitement and nervous energy, and Joe gave your hand a squeeze where your fingers were interlaced. 

It’s clear he’d poured his heart and soul into the movie, his fingerprints were all over every aspect of it, and you couldn’t quite believe you were watching it all finally completed; it had been almost a year since you’d first asked him about it, and now, here you were, hand in hand with him at the premiere. 

As the credits rolled, as the crowd clapped, and you along with them, you found yourself speechless. Joe, quiet and surprisingly nervous, turns to you.

“What’d you think?” His voice is quiet, uncertain, and you all but tackle him across the armrest, kissing him until you’re both breathless.

“I’m so proud of you,” you gasp against his lips, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” his voice is gentle as he takes your face in his hands, but you shake your head.

“You could have, babe, you absolutely could have, you’ve got so much ambition and talent -”

“I didn’t want to do it without you,” he admits in a rush, and you freeze, eyes on his, “I mean it.” And you’re kissing him again, hoping he can feel the pride and love that’s flowing through you. There’s an afterparty to get to, drinks with the cast and crew, and a comfortable bed waiting after that, you know, but you can’t help but bask in this one moment together, just a little longer.

[junker-town]

The 6 best NFL destinations for free agent Philip Rivers

Photo by Meg Oliphant/Getty Images

Philip Rivers won’t be a Charger for the first time since 2004. Here’s where he could end up.

For the first time since 2004, Philip Rivers won’t be a Charger. Los Angeles officially parted ways with the quarterback who became the face of the franchise. Over 16 seasons, Rivers was a good and occasionally great player who, through awful luck and questionable decisions, could never get to a Super Bowl.

Rivers is now set to hit the free agent marketplace at a spritely 38 years old and coming off one of his worst seasons as a pro. It marked the third season in which he’s thrown at least 20 interceptions. His 3.9 percent touchdown rate was the lowest of his career as a full-time starter.

The veteran has bounced back from similar downturns in the past. He was 2013’s Comeback Player of the Year after leading the NFL in completion rate. He looked washed in 2016 after throwing a league-high 21 picks, but returned in 2017 and 2018 behind efficient, above-average seasons.

With the threat of retirement dangling over his head, there’s no guarantee those numbers will rebound — but a change of scenery may be the key to unlocking one last playoff run. Where could Rivers fit in an NFL landscape swamped with experienced passers and an influx of solid young prospects? Let’s take a look at the most obvious fits, based on a few different criteria.

The best offense for Rivers’ skills: Cleveland Browns

Rivers is a pass-heavy quarterback who has thrown more than 35 passes per game over the last decade. That’s the kind of profile that most NFL teams are looking for as offenses lean even harder into the air raid-ish tendencies that have taken over playbooks.

Returning Rivers back to his Pro Bowl self may be as simple as trimming his route tree and dialing back on deep throws. Per SIS, his 73 passes of 20+ yards were fourth-most in the league in 2019, but his 32.9 percent completion rate on those throws slotted him between Andy Dalton and Jameis Winston. Instead, he’s thrived in the late stage of his career on throws between 10-19 yards downfield.

Who can give him that kind of mid-range attack? How about a Cleveland Browns offense with a pass-vacuum safety net (Jarvis Landry), a catch-anything field stretcher (Odell Beckham Jr.), and a linebacker-juking tight end (David Njoku)?

The 2019 Browns opted for a steady diet of intermediate passes for Baker Mayfield. That was under the short-lived Freddie Kitchens regime, which lasted only one year. His firing gave way to former Vikings offensive coordinator Kevin Stefanski’s reign as head coach — and his offenses threw deep even less than Mayfield despite having players like Stefon Diggs and Adam Thielen in the lineup.

Chance it happens: 0.5/10

This is an unrealistic scenario barring some significant shakeups. Stefanski spent his 2019 turning Kirk Cousins into the best version of himself. He was brought to Cleveland to do the same with Mayfield, the No. 1 pick of the 2018 NFL Draft. The Browns don’t need Rivers and Rivers probably doesn’t want to be a Brown. In terms of pure fit, however, the best place for the former Charger to wrap up his career on a high note may just be Northeast Ohio.

The best combination of need and playmaking talent: Indianapolis Colts

The most successful version of Rivers is the one who is allowed to take shots but is also flanked by short-range options. That means he’s best served by a pass-catching tailback — i.e. LaDainian Tomlinson back in the 2000s or Austin Ekeler now — and a reliable tight end who can keep safeties anchored in the middle of the field without floating too far back.

Which team has a deep threat, a possession receiver masquerading as a tight end, and a running back capable of creating havoc? The Chiefs do, for sure, but they’re pretty well set at QB. If we take teams with entrenched QBs out of the picture, the top supporting cast may well be in the AFC South. The Indianapolis Colts can offer Rivers a rock-solid offensive line that allowed sacks on just five percent of dropbacks and All-Pro wideout T.Y. Hilton.

Rivers would also team with the dynamic tailback duo of Marlon Mack (1,091 rush yards in 2019) and Nyheim Hines (44 receptions). He’d be able to fall back on Pro Bowl tight end Jack Doyle in the middle of the field when his deep-play choices fail to pan out. Even if the Colts lack depth at their skill positions, Rivers could make the most out of the talent Indianapolis already has — all while filling the gap between Andrew Luck’s tenure and whomever winds up being the team’s quarterback of the future.

Chance it happens: 4/10

The Colts got half a good season out of Jacoby Brissett before injuries and regression indicated he may be better off in a backup role. Adding Rivers to the mix could push him to new heights or give the team an insurance policy if he falls apart late in the year again. Would a 5-2 Indianapolis team miss the postseason again if Rivers were waiting in the wings?

The best landing spot to win a Super Bowl: Chicago Bears

Rivers’ best bet at a Super Bowl ring in 2020 may be as a backup. However, there are a handful of opportunities where he could work his way to the top of the QB depth chart and guide a ready-made roster to the postseason.

The Chicago Bears can offer an array of playmakers who’d been previously lured to the Midwest in what appears to have been a futile effort to help Mitchell Trubisky’s development. The combination of Tarik Cohen and Trey Burton would surround Rivers with an athletic pair who can break off for big gains. Allen Robinson, whose career has been plagued by underwhelming quarterback play, would get the chance to prove himself as an upper-tier receiver alongside a big-armed passer.

The Bears’ defense backslid a bit in 2019, but is still loaded with players like Khalil Mack, Eddie Jackson, Kyle Fuller, and Roquan Smith. A steady presence behind center could provide an important cantilever to that championship-caliber unit.

Chance it happens: 3.5/10

General manager Ryan Pace says Trubisky is his starter for 2020. That doesn’t mean he won’t at least do his due diligence on this year’s crop of available quarterbacks, especially after the former No. 2 overall pick struggled mightily in 2019.

The best opportunity to jumpstart a rebuild: Carolina Panthers

The Carolina Panthers are on the brink of a teardown, and Cam Newton can be released or traded while counting just $2 million against the team’s cap. Should team owner David Tepper decide jettisoning both head coach Ron Rivera and longtime tight end Greg Olsen wasn’t enough, Newton may be next to go. Tepper currently doesn’t sound all that enthused about his former MVP, either.

Newton’s departure would leave the club with two interesting, but flawed, young passers (Kyle Allen, Will Grier) and a draft slot that’s not quite high enough to snipe a top-tier quarterback (No. 7 overall). Rivers could be the stopgap solution new head coach Matt Rhule uses to bring his still-developing quarterbacks along slowly.

While he wouldn’t have the downfield weapons the Bears, Browns, or Colts could provide — D.J. Moore’s ongoing breakout aside — he’d play with tailback whose 2019 season would fit nicely among Tomlinson’s mid-2000s prime. Christian McCaffrey would excel in Rivers’ short-yardage passing game, leaving room for Moore to flourish in the open space behind him.

Chance it happens: 3/10

It all depends on what happens with Newton, but it sounds like the Panthers are barreling toward a change. Even then, Carolina could opt for a younger reclamation project like Winston or Marcus Mariota.

The best opportunity to annoy everyone in the NFL: New England Patriots

Nigh-insufferable fanbase meets nigh-insufferable quarterback.

Philip Rivers on a 5-8 team thrashing a 4-9 team and trash talking with the little tantrum hands move as he screams "NINETY YARD TOUCHDOWN" after Yannick was nice enough to pick him up off the ground. Truly the pic.twitter.com/FC7XvBagtf

— Will Brinson (@WillBrinson) December 10, 2019

May I present to you Tom Brady’s replacement: New England Patriots quarterback Philip Rivers.

Just imagine Rivers joining the franchise that ended his playoff runs in 2006, 2007, and 2018. New England follows up the Tom Brady era by swapping out a 42-year-old for a 38-year-old whose resume can’t even compare with his predecessor’s. Boos rain down from both Southern California and the Northeast alike.

It’s perfect and I hate it.

Chance it happens: 0.5/10

Let’s not act like Tom Brady isn’t going to turn around and re-sign with the Patriots, probably through some depressing Facebook ad or something similar.

The most realistic landing spot: Tampa Bay Buccaneers

Rivers was unwilling to relocate to Los Angeles after his Chargers left San Diego behind. Instead, he bought a $200,000 mobile film room so he could do his homework during the 90-minute drive to and from practice.

This all suggests he’s not going to stray far from the Florida home he moved his family to this offseason. There’s only one Sunshine State franchise with both the need and the available salary cap space to bring Rivers to town. Jameis Winston is a free agent after five up-and-down seasons with the Buccaneers, and Tampa is in the market for a veteran quarterback who can serve as a bridge between their present and the future.

Enter Rivers, who’d give head coach Bruce Arians and his Tampa Bay Buccaneers another opportunity to rehabilitate a tarnished former top prospect. Arians transformed Carson Palmer from washed-up piece of Raiders garbage into a Pro Bowl quarterback in the sunset of his career. He also turned Winston into the greatest boom-or-bust passer in league history thanks to the NFL’s first 30-touchdown, 30-interception season. Whatever Rivers has left in the tank, Arians will get the most of it while dialing up his quarterback’s truest self up to “11.”

There’s more to like in Tampa than just Arians. Rivers would sling passes to possibly the NFL’s No. 1 receiving tandem in Mike Evans and Chris Godwin. Ronald Jones and Dare Ogunbonwale are both decent pass catchers from the backfield, too. Cameron Brate and O.J. Howard have each shown flashes of potential throughout their careers, and either could level up playing alongside a more consistent QB.

The Buccaneers can’t offer the playoff readiness of the Colts or Bears, but they can surround an aging quarterback with a proven, offensively minded head coach and a receiving corps that can turn Rivers’ risks downfield into big plays. Tampa Bay could replace Winston, who played like the Kirkland brand Philip Rivers, with the real thing — albeit a version that could be past its expiration date.

Chance it happens: 7/10

If Rivers wants to play and restore his value in 2019, the Buccaneers may be his best chance. And he could probably still commute to work!

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: Preseason GM 6 - PIT

Well the useless games are over now. I suppose as Sabres fans we can be sure there will be some of those in March if not February if you know what I mean. Gee, why am I so cynical already? We’re all kinda just enthused the regular season is just about here. Just barely enthused; that’s the common feeling here, eh? I do want to say though that we have to be careful getting a head start shitting on Ralph Krueger. He’s not going to publicly talk down to guys who we all know are ass just because he knows we think they’re ass. You do want a functional organization, right? One of the pieces of that is having a coaching staff and Front Office that acts professional and doesn’t burn bridges and discourage players they need to perform. For such a manly man sport we’re supposed to think Hockey is its very motivationally based. The Sabres weren’t as bad as two wins in the entire month of March last season. I mean obviously they weren’t. They lost the will to keep fighting in a playoff race they were close in until February, when their GM failed to instill confidence by way of sounding completely unaware of the Coach not knowing what he was doing. Now you may ask me: Andrew, doesn’t a professional organization act diplomatically like you said? Yes, good question you smart ass. With us hungry man-eating trolls circulating like vultures around every public statement you need to be diplomatic. Internally something was wrong last Spring and Botterill failed to address it in any meaningful way publicly or privately. It’s a motivation game and the B team we brought to Pittsburgh this afternoon was super motivated.

It’s a little unfair to call it entirely a B team. The defensive group was essentially the opening night lineup excluding the injured. Yeah, unfortunately Marco Scandella looks like he’ll stick around. He strengthened what was already a pretty ironclad case today unfortunately. Risto didn’t play but he’s gotten games this preseason so I’m not going to speculate again about some trade I wish so bad was imminent. Even with the Laine signing I just don’t have it in me to venture a scenario on that one. The first period was kinda fun. All these hungry boys stacked up pretty well against the Penguins A team. Ullmark stood tall. There weren’t too many awful defensive breakdowns. Casey Mittelstadt looked rather ok compared to what the last few games would have you believe. There was a moment where John Gilmour almost dangled himself a goal and for a moment, just a moment, I thought maybe Botts and Krueger are justified in dragging out some of the more obvious cuts this long. Then I remembered how short my subtractions list was in the offseason retrospective and gave it a rest. The game was on MSG, but the live feed was the Penguins broadcast on AT&T Sportsnet. Now I’ve already said I enjoy watching other team’s broadcasts but this Pens one was really harshing my mello when they started playing games with Henri Jokiharju’s name after an embellishment call. That’s dumb shit. My last name is Uttaro. I know what it’s like for someone to mess around with your surname. Just get it right. I’ll take RJ and Rob Ray stumbling over Scandinavian pronunciation every day of the week over actively making jokes about other people’s names. Fuck off.

The second period started off with a couple very good Ullmark saves. I have a bold prediction about him you’ve probably heard if you put up with me on twitter, but I’ll save that for the last preseason post on Monday “Training Camp Closes”. However this middle period is when the scoring opened up. It seemed like the game was a shootout long before extra time. The styles both these teams play is very similar. Obviously Pittsburgh has had a lot more success with it but hear me out here. The first Penguins goal was a shot from the blueline. Ullmark never saw it. The second Penguins goal was a shot from a wrap around play from the circle. Both these teams box you out in front of the net but maybe I’m overthinking this preseason game too much. Yeah, I’ll save the strategy for the regular season. After all, Marco Scandella scoring a toe drag slapshot to cut the lead in half makes no logical sense. Even he was surprise by that goal. By the time the third period was underway my wife had gotten home from a party and I just said forget it, I’m going to order some Chinese. I didn’t expect any scoring in the last ten minutes of the game, and it didn’t matter anyway. Well I was surprised by this team… pleasantly for once.

Remember how I talked about hockey being a motivation game earlier? Yeah, well the hungry boys and the… uh… shouldn’t be here anymore guys got real motivated in the third period. Zemgus Girgensons, Captain of the unnecessary returning players squad, got a fantastic pass from the Captain of the Hungry Boys John Gilmour. Somehow Girgensons found himself on a breakaway, one-on-one with Matt Murray. He tucked in 3-hole and the game was tied. So obviously I know very little from here on out. I was busy watching the Season Premiere of A Million Little Things. At the moment I’m writing this not only is there not full video highlights of this game but NHL.com’s ticker seems to indicate the game never happened. I don’t believe in many conspiracy theories but if there is some French accent evil hockey overlord pulling the strings of the marionette that is Gary Bettman it would want to erase the history of Sidney Crosby’s team losing the day after his number was retired across the Quebec Major Junior League. I’m not saying it’s true I’m just saying you don’t have proof it’s not. Hell, how do we not know this whole preseason has been just a simulation. Ralph Krueger is Agent Smith from the matrix; he’s praising Sobotka and shit just to fuck with us. Well anyway this game went to a scoreless overtime and into the shootout. Does the matrix have a sense of humor? Because there is some humor to Evgeni Malkin missing the net entirely on his shootout attempt while Kyle Okposo shot his on-target right after. Yeah, this can’t be the matrix because Tage Thompson was the guy who kept Buffalo alive after Kris Letang scored. That’s three matrix glitches in one game if you add it to the Scandella and Girgensons goals. Computers don’t make that many mistakes. Casey Mittelstadt ended up capping off a revenge game with a bank-hander past Murray to win it. And so the Sabres ended the preseason how it began: beating the Penguins beyond regulation.

The part of this game I listened to on the radio featured Rob Ray dropping some wisdom. He said the end of the preseason is fun for the guys who have roster spots but it’s not so happy for the ones who don’t. Simply by virtue of math and the roster spot limit there are several players who do not have a roster spot waiting for them. Training Camp is just about over, and I can’t imagine there is much evaluating left to do. A Ristolainen trade probably doesn’t happen and the Bills have a decent shot to make it close against the Patriots tomorrow. Sorry, I added that last one on just to make me feel a little bit better. Monday morning you get Training Camp Closes here on the blog. That’s not just a preseason wrap up it’s also full of predictions about the season. I’ll tease you a little bit: I’m not going hardcore optimist like I did last year. I felt vindicated in the first half by those predictions but got burned real hard in the back half. Like this post, share it and give me a comment. What’s your opening night roster projection? I’m going to take a swing at one before Thursday as well. Before we wrap it up and call it a night I do want to say: the optimist in me is far from dead. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. I guess that last game against Columbus could still be Risto’s last as a Sabre. *smh*

[itsworn]

Project W-31: A Hands-On Lesson in Drag Racing for a Group of Michigan State University Engineering Students

Americans love to wax poetic about 1969—Woodstock, the moon landing, cool cars—but it also was a tumultuous time to be a young male. Postwar prosperity and optimism gave way to assassinations, the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement, and general cultural confusion. But for a revolving door of Michigan State University (MSU) engineering students, 1969-1973 was a seminal period. Through an interesting sequence of events, they managed to convince Oldsmobile, MSU and its chapter of the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE), and a host of suppliers to support the preparation of a race car on a shoestring budget.

Paul Aurand, Rick Dolan, Bob Sedlak, and Jim Minneker (later to become a Corvette Hall-of-Famer) knew one another from MSU’s engineering school, but they truly didn’t get together until they joined the student chapter of the SAE. The club met once a month, often spilling over afterward to Monte’s, a watering hole in nearby Okemos.

At Milan in 1972, Project W-31 prepares to go against another W-Machine.

In the fall of 1969, Jim Miller, an Oldsmobile engineer and technical advisor to the SAE chapter, playfully derided the students for not doing more as a group. Rick Dolan responded, “Why don’t you have Oldsmobile give us a car to build?”

Miller’s response surprised them: “If you guys find a place to work on it, I will find you a car.”

Dolan says, “We weren’t sure if it was Jim or the beer talking, but we took him seriously!” Within a week, he secured space in the blacksmith shop with the assistance of thermodynamics professor Frank Roop.

Project W-31 at Tri-City in 1970. Bob Dennis handled the first iteration of the lettering via contact paper. “Everybody agreed that those little 2-inch letters were too small.” He also painted the custom license plate and Dr. Olds trunk lid.

“Now it was getting serious,” says Bob Dennis, who joined the team soon after its inception. “We began looking at national records and what Oldsmobile offered. We decided against a 4-4-2 because they were not competitive, but folks were winning with W-31s. We spec’d out the engine, transmission, and rear axle.”

Several weeks later, Paul Aurand received an evening phone call from Jim Miller. “Be outside in 15 minutes, and be alone.”

They drove to the Oldsmobile Engineering offices, entered a locked facility, and parked next to a red vehicle. Miller handed Aurand the keys and warned, “The title has been sent to Lansing. The VIN has been removed. There’s no registration or insurance, and it has no plates. This car doesn’t exist. Kid, don’t get caught!”

On its first outing, Project W-31 ran G/SS due to wider-than-stock rear tires. Note the air induction system under the bumper.

Aurand continues, “I took the back streets on my way to campus. Several team members who had previously been alerted met me at our ‘garage.’ Nobody saw us come in.”

Hands-on Training What the team received was a 1969 4-4-2 hardtop that had been an Oldsmobile durability test vehicle set to be scrapped. Although the team had determined that the 4-4-2’s 400 was not competitive at the drags, Oldsmobile had followed through by including everything they requested: fresh W-31, four-speed, and 5.00:1 rear.

“Unfortunately it was heavier than it needed to be for the class, but beggars can’t be choosers,” says Fred Bowen.

At Project W-31’s second outing in 1970, the four-speed broke.

The team had varying amounts of automotive experience, but all had a lot to learn. “We studied magazine articles, including one featuring a team connected to Labadie Olds,” says Bob Dennis.

Adds Jim Minneker, “We wanted to race on the G/S national record (12.46). We raced in regional NHRA events, but it never got more competitive than that.”

Thanks to $1,000 in treasury dues that the SAE had collected over the previous 20 years, the team had the funds to buy equipment to make the Olds race-worthy. Yet it was the kindness of sponsors that really made it happen.

The legendary Trailer of Doom, spring 1970.

“We went on a letter-writing campaign,” says Minneker. “We were wholesome college kids racing cars asking, ‘Would you like a place on our car? A donation could give us a whole load of engineering experience!’”

Joe Guzek, engineer at Lansing-based Motor Wheel Corporation and another SAE technical advisor, was able to score Spyder wheels plus Goodyear 7-inch cheater slicks and Frontrunner lightweights.

“It was surprising how many were willing to donate equipment to us,” says Fred Bowen. “ACCEL gave us points, caps, and rotors. Once we were at US-131 and were approached by Calvin DeBruin, a 1950s-era MSU engineering grad and employee of Sealed Power. He provided us the company’s then-new ‘head land’ piston rings.”

Jim Minneker and Rick Dolan show off a trophy in 1970.

“The services we had to pay for were getting the heads cc’d and a three-angle valve job,” says Paul Aurand. “That cost us a couple hundred bucks, but everything else was donated.”

The team tore into preparing the Olds. Removing the sound deadener, melt pads, and undercoating was tedious. Aurand says, “We installed OHC-6 Tempest front springs to improve front-end lift and weight transfer at the starting line. Air Lift airbags were installed in the coils. We also installed the Tempest’s drum brakes, which were marginal.”

Rick Dolan was enthused by the machine shop and made steel bushings for the control arms. The team also modified the transmission into a “slick shift” (with no synchronizers), which enabled faster shifts.

Under no circumstances was Project W-31 to be driven in public.

Initial testing revealed serious rear-wheel hop upon starts, so a pinion snubber was built and installed to control this problem.

Off to the Races The team had a car, but how to get to the dragstrip? Initially the guys borrowed what was soon deemed the Trailer of Doom. Bob Sedlak explains, “I was towing with my 1963 Dodge wagon, and poor Bob Dennis was sitting in the Olds. I was simply trying to find the right speed, but there was no right speed. If you went 20 miles an hour it was marginal, and if you went a little faster or a slower it was wildly out of control.”

The group ended up borrowing a tow bar and using Al Wilson’s 1964 Plymouth for the rest of the year until Cliff Grupke bought his 1969 Cutlass. The pair presented nicely as tow and drag cars.

The W-31 team members, 1971. Back row, left to right: Cliff Grupke, Fred Bowen, Bob Senk, Al Wilson. Front row, left to right: Doug Arden, Jim Grum, Bob Dennis, Curt Dressler.

Project W-31’s first outing was at Onondaga in the spring of 1970. To their dismay, instead of G/S, they were obliged to compete in Super Stock due to wider-than-stock tires (the Goodyear “stockers” had yet to arrive). Jim Minneker and Paul Aurand piloted the Olds at the track. It performed admirably, but at Tri-City (its second outing), the transmission broke.

“We flat-towed the car with the driveshaft in place,” says Fred Bowen. “This caused internal damage to the tranny due to insufficient lubrication. After replacing the tranny, we always removed the driveshaft before towing.”

Few had previous track experience. Cliff Grupke, who joined in 1970, developed his own style. He says, “I usually stabbed the clutch. Thanks to the gearbox mods we made, it shifted nicely. I recall one time we were running well and went up against this Chevelle. I got to the line and used our rule of thumb: activate the Hurst Line Lock, bring yourself up to 6,000 rpm and, when you see the last yellow, go. We never red-lighted! When I saw that yellow, I let go of everything and got a good holeshot, but the Chevy also got out of the hole nicely. I reached for Second gear and missed, then jammed it in and got it going again. I still was ahead because he too missed the shift, but I recovered faster.”

On May 16, 1971, Project W-31 ran H/S instead of G/S at Tri-City. They won their class with an elapsed time of 13.14.

There also were obstacles beyond their control. Bob Dennis explains, “When we raced at Brohman M-37 Dragway, their so-called tech guys made us remove the air induction system, which was regular production equipment for the W-31. We said it’s factory, but they were adamant. They were afraid we were going beat the local guys, I think.”

Throughout the embryonic team’s existence, they also raced at Martin, Milan, and Detroit Dragway.

Uh-Oh To test their handiwork, the team would tow the Olds across campus to the commuter lot, sometimes arousing complaints from the married housing complex a half-mile away. “The first time I did a test burnout was a disaster,” relates Bob Dennis. “It was a late spring night in 1971. I brought up the rpm’s, popped the clutch, and I’m flying along this parking lot.”

After blowing the engine during testing in the summer of 1971, Project W-31 received a new engine.

Dennis Kline continues, “I was in the car and remember the exhilaration of the open-header launch was suddenly replaced by absolute panic when I saw a flash of light in front of us, which was a chain reflecting our headlights.”

Bob hit the brakes, but it was too late. The chain went up over the hood, broke the windshield, and continued over the car.

In a later test run in the summer, there was an enormous explosion, followed by silence. Cliff Grupke tells us, “I remember pulling the spark plugs there in the dark so we could look down into the chambers. John Shook had this little 12-volt light bulb rig that he could clip onto the battery terminals and lower through the spark plug hole. As he was peering down number 7, he uttered, ‘I wonder where the piston went?’ Jim Miller later diagnosed the problem as an over-torqued rod bolt, which I never believed because I know how careful and precise we were in building the engine. Jim was able to secure another engine, which we promptly fitted with our racing bits that had survived.”

Uh-Oh, Part II Aside from wide-open throttle tests in the commuter parking lot, the team never drove the Olds in public. Nonetheless, bringing a tow vehicle and rigging a tow bar were laborious, so Bob Dennis had the idea to obtain a provisionary pass to drive to the lot. “So, dumb me, I called Oldsmobile Public Relations.”

Project W-31 warms up its slicks as it prepares to race a Yenko Deuce Nova in 1972.

The call went nowhere, but eventually Jim Miller caught wind and said, “What in the hell are you doing? You’re getting people in trouble at Oldsmobile!”

Dale Smith, Oldsmobile’s manager of vehicle testing and racing support, wrote about the episode (albeit incorrectly) in his book Racing to the Past: “I did get a car for engineering students at Michigan State. Since they could not afford a trailer, they called Olds Public Relations to attempt to get the car registered so they could drive the car to drag racing events. I then received a call from a dumb $#!+ informing me that I had violated the General Motors racing ban, and that I had better get that car back before I got into deep trouble … I told him the bottom line on why you, me, or anyone else here exists is to sell cars. In my job, I’m trying to improve Olds’ youth image and cultivate new customers.”

The Second Season and Beyond In the spring of 1971, with MSU repurposing its facilities, Project W-31 lost its space in the blacksmith shop. Fred Bowen enlisted the help of Dr. Charles St. Clair, chairman of the mechanical engineering department. “We drove around the area looking for a suitable place to keep the Olds. We had little luck, so he said, ‘For now, you can keep it temporarily in my backyard.’”

MSU’s SAE club recruited new members with the line, “Drag racing is bigger than you think it is, Leroy! Get caught up in it this fall at MSU!”

From there, the Olds ended up in the driveway of Professor Roop. “I think we swapped upper and lower ball joints in his garage one time,” says Cliff Grupke. “We had absolutely no place to work on it, having to beg and borrow everything. I can remember writing letters to our sponsors asking them to renew their enthusiasm for our club.”

In the fall of 1971, Cliff Grupke became president of MSU SAE. “I tried to get everybody else to drive, but nobody seemed interested. I even threatened Al to drive it because he had worked so hard on that car, but I ended up driving quite a bit in 1972.”

Thanks to new member Bob Senk, the team was able to finish rebuilding the engine and putting everything back together at his family’s farm. “We pushed the car under a shade tree, took the hood off, and dropped the engine in with a block and tackle, just like you read about,” says Grupke. “After the summer, we stashed it at my mom’s in Southgate. In the fall of 1972, a local teammate named Jim Mauer had an empty garage at his mom’s.”

The Project W-31 team not only learned how to build a car, but the members also learned how to race. Current evidence of the team’s best shows 13.09 at 108.04 mph.

Where Did Project W-31 Go? All members went on to successful careers in engineering, and none forgot this early experience. They were reunited for the first time in 45-plus years because there’s a story to be told, but the million-dollar question is: What happened to Project W-31?

The trail seems to disappear in 1973. Rick Dolan recalls seeing the Olds at the trailer park next to Tom’s Party Store in Okemos. The car was sitting high in the front, as if the engine had been removed. Paul Aurand says that Doug Arden, a later member, claims the Olds was raced by George Cornell, who may have had a Lunati connection. Arden even thinks he has seen the Olds in more recent years—with lettering intact—in a Lansing lot.

Project W-31 was much more than a cool car story from back in the day. It’s about this great grassroots adventure by a group of engineering students who gained real-world experience through hard work, ingenuity, and initiative. Reminisces Bob Senk, “Absolutely thrilling! I’d go back right now and be glad to do it. As fun as can be. Way better than a rollercoaster!”

“We learned a ton of things in that short time. We also learned to build confidence in ourselves,” adds Bob Dennis. “Everyone was very lucky because we had something on our resumes when we graduated. The hands-on experience allowed us to stand tall and say, ‘This is what we’ve been doing while we were studying engineering.’”

Al Wilson agrees. “I was into it for a learning experience because I’d never done automotive work before. I learned everything I know from those years.”

Editor’s note: Members of MSU’s Project W-31 team will attend the Muscle Car and Corvette Nationas, November 17-18, in conjunction with this year’s W-31 Invitational. Plans include a presentation by the team. Visit mcacn.com for more show info.

The W-31 350 The W-31 Force-Air Induction system had its genesis in 1968 for F-85/Cutlass S/Cutlass Supreme coupes, which included the 325hp Ram Rod 350, special 2-inch intake/1-5¤8-inch exhaust valves, and special high-performance camshaft that Oldsmobile claimed “has very rough idle characteristics that would be objectionable to some owners.” A floor-shifted three-speed manual with 3.91 gears and Anti-Spin axle were standard, but most featured wide- or close-ratio four-speeds. W-31s were easily identified by two scoops under the bumper with tubes to the air cleaner. There were few changes for 1969, but Olds began marketing the ultrahigh-performance models under the W-Machine banner with Dr. Oldsmobile leading the charge.

The Good Guys List Project W-31 Benefactors: AC, ACCEL, Air-Lift, Demmer Corp., Denny’s Sunoco (for alignments and reworking the distributor), GE Silicones, Johnson’s Speed Shop, Kendall racing oil, Kustom Headers, Lakewood Industries, Lowell Automotive, Sealed Power piston rings, Stewart-Warner instruments, and Thrush Performance Products.

A Question of Grilles Project W-31 was a 4-4-2 masquerading as a W-31 Cutlass S. Each model used different grilles. By a stroke of luck, the team was able to score a correct pair. “I was living off campus and didn’t have a car,” says Cliff Grupke. “I used to borrow my buddy’s old Galaxie with rusted-through floorboards to get home to Detroit. During one visit, my mom said, ‘I’m going to get you a car. I don’t want you riding in this deathtrap.’ A mechanic friend who worked at a Dearborn Oldsmobile dealership mentioned there was a nice ’69 Cutlass with low mileage, and when it became mine, we swapped the grilles with the MSU car.”

Other Project W-31 Members Doug Arden, Curt Dressler, Jerry Feikema, Paul Gentilozzi, Jim Grum, Mike Miller, Roland Osborne (later of Chrysler Power fame), Dick Parnell, Rick Sunamoto, Ron Wingara, and several others lost to time.

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