#Expertise in Prompt Engineering

[enterprise-cloud-services]

Explore the inner workings of LlamaIndex, enhancing LLMs for streamlined natural language processing, boosting performance and efficiency.

[rubylogan15]

Explore the inner workings of LlamaIndex, enhancing LLMs for streamlined natural language processing, boosting performance and efficiency.

[sweetercalypso]

New Gods ✩ Abby Anderson

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness

Notes: minors dni; fingering and oral (Abby rec.), semi-public sex, afab reader, dom!Abby, mean!Abby, mentions of guns, brief violence, religious references, enemies to lovers

When Abby hears that she’s being put on a patrol headed for the abandoned side of town, she thinks it’s a joke.

Surely this was some form of punishment, or a test of her loyalty to Isaac’s command. Two weeks in an unoccupied base with a batch of new recruits – it has to be a mistake.

It’s not until the transport truck pulls away from the stadium that Abby accepts the reality of the situation, groaning into her hands to hide her indignation.

The only good thing about this patrol, she thinks, is that absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Abby and her entourage of WLF recruits arrive at their assigned base late in the evening, the sun already sinking low behind Seattle’s derelict skyline.

The city is silent beyond the hum of the armored truck rolling to a stop in front of an old office building. Years ago, the area had been a thriving hub of WLF activity, but the threat of Seraphite armies had shifted attention elsewhere, leaving the bases to sit empty and collecting dust.

Abby swallows her complaints as the truck’s engine shuts off, leaving a jarring silence that prompts her fellow gunmen to turn their collective attention towards her.

Her expertise is better suited to combat than to training, and the thought of being in charge of four wide-eyed rookies makes her question the sanity of whoever put this team together.

She briefly explains the patrol assignment before dolling out tasks to each of the recruits, leaving herself the duty of surveying the perimeter.

Early WLF soldiers had cleared most of the infected while the area was still active, and with the lack of excitement in the streets, Abby returns to the base with the verdict that this patrol will be entirely uneventful.

While the others are setting up camp on the second floor – five cots lined against a wall with a radio station by the windows and supply crates littered around the room – Abby keeps herself busy with watching the thick, heavy clouds rolling in the distance.

She imagines what she might be doing if she had been placed on a different patrol and she crosses her arms over her chest with a bitter sigh.

 Anything has to be more exciting than this.

 –

Abby awakens while the sky is still dark, the remaining light of dusk swallowed by the inky black threat of storm clouds overhead.

Thunder cracks viciously in the air, rumbling the dusty room and promising to crumble the building’s frame already bowing under years of neglect.

The sound of her distress is barely audible over the harsh rain beating against the windows and, for a moment, Abby can’t remember where she is.

Her mouth feels dry, and it takes an effort to slow her labored breaths. She runs a hand over her face, wiping away her momentary confusion before checking that the other patrollers are still asleep, slipping off her cot and stumbling blindly through the darkened room.

Her weapons and her pack are still resting against a nearby crate, exactly where she’d left them. She slips the strap of her backpack between her fingers, hoping that the familiar worn canvas will distract from the deafening thunder crackling in her ears.

She holds her breath and counts the seconds between the streaks of lightning and claps of thunder – a trick her dad had taught her when she was young.

Somewhere between flash and bang, the sound of footsteps overhead catches Abby’s attention. Her head jerks up towards the source of the noise and she quickly forgets about the looming urgency of bad weather.

The door to the stairwell is propped open, and although Abby knows it was left ajar to air out the stuffy office space, she can’t help but imagine something sinister looming beyond the doorway.

She grabs the closest gun and makes her way to the stairs, listening for the sounds of movement overhead.

All the floors had been checked for infected and all the windows had been secured, but Abby still couldn’t shake the thought of someone invading their base in the dead of night.

She treads up the stairs and pushes the door open, only to be met with the sight of a lonely silhouette moving through the darkness. Abby jumps into action just as she’d been taught, heart thumping wildly as she raises her weapon and aims.

“Get on the ground – now!”

She spits out the stern command, harsh but still quiet enough that it barely fills the room. Despite the anger twisting in her chest, she’s rational enough to know better than to alert the other patrollers sleeping downstairs.

From the looks of it, the intruder was here alone, unarmed. It seemed better to deal with the situation on her own than to cause unwarranted panic the first night in to a new assignment.

The sound of her voice must’ve caught you by surprise because you stop dead in your tracks, not even moving to lunge for cover from the stranger gunning you down.

Illuminated by only the sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the shadows, it takes a moment for Abby to piece together the scene before her.

You’re soaked to the bone, cloaked in brown cloth and shivering from the rain clinging to your skin.

At first, she thought you might’ve been a soldier from another patrol, separated from your group and seeking shelter in an expectedly empty outpost. Or maybe you could’ve been a straggler roaming the city in search of supplies left behind by its former inhabitants.

But when a crack of lightning catches your features at the right angle, Abby recognizes the mark stretching across your cheek, and realization washes over her.

“Fucking Scars.”

She keeps her gun steady, though her fingers flex against the heavy, steel grip.  

With eyes trained diligently on your figure, she closes the distance between the two of you in a few short steps, scowling when she’s close enough to discern the look of confusion on your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving the muzzle of her gun roughly into your shoulder and spitting out a sharp “answer me”.

Her boot hits the back of your leg and you crumble into the floor with swallowed discontent.

“I’m not- I didn’t know you would be here.” You scramble to explain yourself, chancing a look at Abby standing behind you. She pushes her gun further into your shoulder, silently instructing your gaze back to the floor.

“This building’s supposed to be empty. It says so on the map.”

“You’re spying on our bases?” Her voice rises with every word, no longer concerned with who might hear. “Planning a fucking ambush?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m not a soldier, I was supposed to collect supplies from the city, but I got caught in the rain.”

She laughs and rolls her shoulders reflexively.

“I don’t care why you’re here – Scars don’t get second chances.”

Thunder rattles the thin-paned windows lining the room. Abby’s heartbeat fills her ears. Prayer tumbles from your lips like the nervous chatter of teeth – uneasy, repetitive, instinctive.

Abby had never given much thought to prayer before, especially not that of a Scar. It’s always the same routine pleading that’ll never be answered. But it doesn’t sound like you’re begging for salvation, it sounds like you’re making peace.

Something about the situation doesn’t seem fair. You’re completely helpless, caught in a trap you couldn’t see laid out in front of you. Your people must’ve known something like this could happen, yet they sent you into the wolves’ den, anyway – a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter.

A foreign pang of uncertainty resonates through Abby’s chest, and she lowers her gun with a shake of her head.

“Just- just go.”

A beat passes before you look back at Abby in disbelief. You gape blankly at her for a moment before mouthing a small “what?”.

She huffs impatiently and grabs you by the arm, hauling you up from your position on the floor. If anyone came in and found the two of you standing this close, you’d both be dead before you could part.

“Leave. Now. If the others find you here, they won’t be so nice.”

Her eyes flit over your face, searching for confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She expected to find fear etched into your features, maybe gratefulness, or even shock. But she’s met with only curiosity in your wide, unblinking eyes.

She pushes you away and turns to leave before she can change her mind, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Abby knows what the other patrollers would’ve done if they had found you first. She knows what she would’ve done if the circumstances had been different.

You should be dead – or worse. It hadn’t been that long since she’d assisted in the interrogations that happened to Scars who’d been captured and strung up in cells for the rest of their days.

When Abby thinks about those people now, only one face stares back at her.

–

The next morning, Abby is forced to bite her tongue when someone finds the upstairs window open, raindrops clinging to the wood frame serving as the only evidence of your intrusion.

She blames it on one of the other patrollers, suggesting that they didn’t do a thorough enough sweep the night before, but not everyone is convinced.  

They search the building anyway but come up empty-handed, and the situation is defused and entirely forgotten by midday.

For the remainder of their two-week patrol, Abby wonders if you had really been there at all, or if you were a product of some underlying guilt she had stored in the back of her mind. She would stay up through night and listen for the sound of footsteps, not sure if she should feel relief or disappointment when the mornings arrived without any sign of you.

When the familiar rumble of the armored truck rolls in to collect Abby and the recruits, she returns to the stadium and does her best to keep you off her mind.

She volunteers for extra shifts; she monitors the communications radio; she listens to stories of other patrollers and wonders if they’re describing you in their encounters with unnamed and faceless Scars.

When she hears about another group headed for the abandoned side of the city, she jumps at the opportunity to join their patrol. Anything for some peace of mind, she tells herself.

They’re dropped off in front of a different building, a couple blocks west of where her last patrol had been located. Abby’s chest deflates when she realizes the absurdity of her desire to find you again.

It’d been weeks since she’d let you go, and surely you’d learned your lesson about venturing near WLF bases alone. Maybe you hadn’t, and someone else had found you before Abby had the chance.

She shivers at the thought and moves to catch up with the rest of her team, abandoning her concern for something more practical.

She offers to check the upper floors while the others bring in supplies, and no one objects to avoiding the endless flights of stairs and dusty rooms waiting for her.

Four floors up, Abby stops to inspect a window that had been broken some time ago. Shards of glass and a handful of dead leaves lay at her feet, and when stoops down to look for anything out of the ordinary, the door to the stairwell creaks shut behind her.

“It’s you.”

Her head whips around at the sound of your voice, familiar but different now that you’re no longer at her will.

From where she stands, Abby can see the way your chest rises and falls with anticipation, the way your hands twist at your sides. She waits for you to speak again, but the room falls silent.

“What’re you doing here?” she hisses, praying that the others were too busy to come check on her progress.

“I heard the truck – I knew you were coming.”

Abby frowns and moves a step closer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how many of those soldiers downstairs would like to get their hands on you?”

You cock your head to the side, as if you didn’t understand.

“You saved my life once already. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I’d be in danger.”

She scoffs at the presumption that she would betray her people again, but a small voice reminds her that’s exactly what she’d planned to do.

She moves past you to leave but you stop her with a hand laid over her arm. Abby’s jaw tenses at the contact, but when her resentful gaze flickers up to meet yours, she’s met with the same unabashed interest you’d worn before.

“I owe you, wolf. The Prophet commands us to repay those who show mercy.”

You pause before continuing. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Abby takes a moment to consider. What does she want?

She wants your leader’s head at her feet; she wants to make her friends proud; she wants to understand why she had let you go that night in the storm.

Her eyes trail down to your lips, to the mottled scar etched into your cheek. She wonders what you’d look like without its crooked ridges marring your skin. She wonders how it would feel under her hands.

It catches you both off guard when her parted lips press against yours, teeth clacking together from the fervency of her kiss.

Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, though she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away. She grunts into your mouth and slides her other hand around your waist. An unfamiliar heat licks at the base of your spine.

“I want you to thank me for letting you go,” she declares.

Seraphite leaders had spoken on end about the corrupt morals of ‘new world’ adherents, but this was not the danger you’d learned to fear. Abby was unique, addicting, and you wanted more.

You fall to your knees at her feet, almost a mirror image of the night you’d met. This time, however, you’re the one in control.

She hums and rubs the pad of her thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still wet with your spit. “That’s a good start.”

Nimble fingers work open the button of her jeans, shimmying the dark denim down her toned, freckled thighs. Her black boxers follow suit, revealing a smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval.

Your hands smooth over her heated skin, palming at her hips in an attempt to pull her closer. She concedes and shuffles forward until her cunt presses to your awaiting mouth and your tongue dips out to taste her.

It’s like nothing either of you have experienced – the guilt of betraying your own people, the trust that comes from such inconceivable circumstances. It’s all too much to comprehend, so you choose to ignore it for the time being.

Abby’s head tips back with a sigh, little breaths and chirps of pleasure pushed from her lungs as your tongue flattens over her clit.

It almost looks like you’re praying, Abby decides. Kneeling in front of your altar, eyes screwed shut, searching for a sign from some divine being. She cards her fingers through your hair and tugs at the roots, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s messy, greedy, downright sinful the way you press your mouth to her. Slick coats your chin and your cheeks, glistening in the dim light streaming through the windows.

You’re spurred on by the way she tilts her hips, the wet squelch of her cunt against your mouth. Her thighs flex against the sides of your face, smothering your cheeks in her arousal.

“Ah- just like that.”

In addition to your tongue roaming everywhere you can reach, your thumb comes up to rub firm circles against her clit. After a moment, you switch positions, dragging your fingers through her slick and dipping two digits inside her.

She gasps at the intrusion and bucks her hips harshly, urging you to move faster. Your fingers curl inside her, driving into that gummy spot at the top of her walls while you suction her clit into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she pants, grinding down on your mouth. “M’gonna come.”

It’s not long before she’s shuddering through her release, choking back a poorly suppressed moan while she fights to keep her eyes open. You continue to work over her mound until she releases your hair from her grip and takes half a step back on shaky legs.

Remembering her earlier request for gratitude, you lean back on your heels and lick the remnants of her slick from your lips.

“Thank you, wolf.”

She looks down as if she’d only just remembered you were there and her eyes sparkle with renewed interest. A lazy smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna stay so I can return the favor?”

[simp-ly-writes]

Professionals

─────── · · A Black Ops 6 FanFic

Pairing: Russell Adler x Fem!Spy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You are a MI6 spy with a secret mission different to what the CIA has requested you for; using your information gathering expertise, you pose as Russell Adlers wife as the both of you go undercover abroad, the catch? MI6 wants to know everything about your "husband" just as much as you do.

─ · · TAGS: no use of (y/n), non-canon compliant, flirting, use of pet names, teasing, fluff.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,607 | Part 2

─ · · A/N: I always wanted to try and make one of those series that stems off into prompts and scenarios so use this chapter as the basis! 😊 (I hope this somewhat makes sense lol).

─────── · ·

Monday Night | MI6 Agency, London

It was one of the few nice nights of the year yet here you were sat inside your Directors office. A couple dozen high ranking officers swarming around you, the room tense in wait as the leather of your seat groaned as you took a seat.

One thing happened after another, a team was preparing your looks, another briefing you on culture, customs and speech. You had worked for the secret intelligence service for over two and a half decades, starting right out of university yet had never experienced something quite like this in all your history. All you could do is nod along.

"He'll be sat there waiting when you arrive. He is CIA, Clandestine special officer. A full report will be sent to your room when you arrive, deployment immediately. You are dismissed, officer," was all you gathered from your Director before you were being followed out into a car, your belongings already packed for you, ring box sitting heavy between your hands in your lap. You couldn't find it in you to open it.

"You ready, (last/name)?" one of your fellow operators, Bill asked you, driving the car another office sat shotgun, so much security... you think to yourself, worried for what the hell kind of a mission they were sending you on and with who of all people?

"What am I not ready for?" you ask back, faking confidence yet feeling frustrated by the lack of information you were receiving before going overseas and acting as a double-agent.

"Well, from knowing you, marriage," he chuckles, fixing the rear-view mirror as you shuffle around in the backseat. It was obviously meant to be a joke to cheer you up yet the word marriage rung through your head, echoing on repeat.

"Well it's not like I'm actually gonna get married, Bill. Just got to look all pretty, get the information, and get the hell out. The ring is just another thing of the disguise at the end of the day," you reply with nonchalance before opening the ring box- immediately regretting so as you stare at the most gorgeous ring you could ever dream of.

What the fuck, is all you can mutter underneath you breath before Bill is pulling into a parking sport at the airport. The other officer already running around back to the truck, unloading your gear. Bill lets out a long low whistle after seeing the ring.

"Well, everyone's going to know your a taken woman with that rock on your finger." You flip Bill the finger, placing the ring onto your left hand before throwing the box into your handbag and stepping out of the car. A plane waits for you on the tarmac, engines already roaring and with one wave back to the boys, you are off up in the air on on your way to America.

─────── · ·

Tuesday Morning | Hotel, Washington, D.C.

When arriving to the "Land of Freedom," you quickly hailed a cab to your to-be-shared hotel room for the next few days. Your boss mentioned it as a speed, "get-to-know one another" meeting but in your eyes it would be the opportunity to get the upper hand on information.

Your mission was simple, do the missions the CIA wanted you in, provide them with the information they wanted all the while taking what your agency wanted- who exactly is Russell Adlers and what the hell they were doing with brainwashing.

You were surprised to see how many lanes of traffic there were on your want to the hotel room and once arriving to the five-star hotel, staff members were there awaiting your arrival, "Mrs. Adler, please allow me to hold your belongings and bring them up to your room for you. An assortment of breakfast has been prepared at your husbands request and will arrive in 30 minutes."

White gloves swiftly took your baggage from out of the trunk another holding the door open for you both before leading you up to your room. Deep stained hardwood made your heels click against its surface in tune with the live performance piano. You took in the dazzling crystal chandeliers of the lobby with its panelled walls and luscious plants. The elevator was glass with a gold banister that you leaned upon, examining every exist and staff member positioned for the "just-in-case" that came with the job.

With a ding, you were up to the ninth floor and lead down a cosy lit hallway before being presented with your keycard. A white glove motioned to the scanner before holding the door open for you to enter first.

The room was moody and romantic just as the lobby was fit with golden accents, walls in that signature wood paneling, and floor finished in a plush cream carpet. A kitchenette, small living space and bed set with fresh white sheets and a few too many pillows off to another room set within the suite. You were impressed to say the least once hearing the last of your luggage be placed within the room.

"Is there anything else we could assist you with Mrs. Adler?" the staff member asks, eyes hanging onto your every word- eager to help. You smiled at the young man before shaking your head with a smile. A strand of your hair falling out of place in doing so. "No, I am quite alright. Thank you for your work, I'll be sure to make my husband reward your service this morning." And with that, the door closed behind you as you took in the silence of the space before going digging.

Grabbing your gloves from your purse on the counter you opened every drawer and cranny, looking underneath every piece of furniture in the main room before heading towards the bedroom. The singular bed mocked you as the white sheets glistened through the sunlight peaking through the sheer curtains.

A singular small suitcase sat on an armchair that faced the bed. Delicately zipping it open you took apart its components yet finding nothing out of the ordinary, not a sloppy worker, you praised your "husband" before placing a small tracker into one of the open seams.

Standing back up and looking outside the reflection of another body behind you had you freezing in the moment. A tall man stood behind you by the outline of his broad shoulders, your eyes flickered between the two of you in the reflection. His voice casting goosebumps across your skin before you were reining yourself in, remember who you are, remember what the job is, remember-

"Hello, Sweetheart. Anything your looking for in particular?"

Shit. You turned around, casting a quick signature smile before slowly taking off your gloves and walking over to the side table. You felt his stare watching as you moved around the room as you took a seat on the corner of the bed.

"Just making sure that my husband was leaving me with no surprises after all you do know how much your wife hates them so," you retort now taking your time to stare. You took in the loafers he wore, freshly polished and leather matching the belt looping through pressed dress pants with the collared shirt he wore, a pair of aviators hanging from the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

His muscles bulged from the sleeves, veins casting up from his fingertips and up to his neck, beard freshly shaven and fitting the classy affluent couple look you both were assigned. Your eyes stopped at his face, watching as his head tilted in a silent demand for you to dare ask about the scar running up from his cheek to his nose.

"Already getting protective of me?" Adler teases catching your ring finger twitch at the name with a smirk.

You didn't appreciate him already trying to be above you, "the papers never said my husband would be handsome. How could they leave such an important part out?" you smile, your words genuine but the way in which you cross your legs after saying it as your husband raising a brow before rolling his eyes.

"I'm not the one you're trying to charm over. Save it for when we get overseas, I'm sure they'll enjoy it more-"

"And you didn't enjoy me calling you handsome?" you press forwards watching Adler roll his shoulders before scoffing. "I know I am, didn't need you to say it."

You gasp playfully, standing to tease more of his personality out of him but before you can reach Adler has your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip, cautious of his own strength. "I'm not going to break if you hold me so gently, Mr. Adler."

"Well, Mrs. Adler. If you think I'm going to get handsy you're wrong. Take the bed tonight, I'll settle on the couch."

Breakfast arrived shortly after your teasing match and while eating you appreciated that Adler did in fact hold table manners. Always making sure your coffee and water was filled yet apparently it was a step too far in asking for a bite off his plate as he waved you off.

It was the first day of a mission that you did not know when it would end but as you laid there in the cold sheets listening to Adler hum along to something on the radio before taking a drag from his cigarette. There was the smallest part of you hopeful that he would not hate you after all of this that became overshadowed by the job and everything you had at stake. There was no question but being the utmost professional.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: what did you think?? 👀 I've got some ideas of Adler finding out you have a side mission, introducing you to members of the team, missions gone wrong-AH! So many ideas, let me know if any of these stand out! 😄💕

[yawpyawp]

the idea of people using chatGPT for legal advice and therapy is SO WILD

chatGPT is literally just if you could ask your iphone’s predictive text function questions in word problem format so it can google things for you

it’s meant to augment a skill you already have, not replace the need for expertise

signed, someone who works with AI professionally

(my main use case for chatGPT and Copilot is to have them basically present me with executive summaries of information pertaining to topics in which i already have some expertise, so i don’t have to do grunt work, but can still tell if it’s hallucinating. it’s a good whisper assist when i’m conducting technical interviews. also, i know prompt engineering, so i know how to mitigate bias in the outputs i get)

[alexanderwales]

The worst thing about creative AI right now is that it produces bad results. The writing is bad, the images are bad, and the video is bad. It's impressive, sometimes, that the technology works as well as it does, but it's still bad.

I think if you sit down and go through a few hundred generations, then tweak and edit and inpaint and think intently, you can sometimes get something worth putting in front of people, if you have the right eye for it. I could definitely edit up an AI-written short story into something worth reading, especially if I was the one who had fed it the prompt and gone through the work of having my own ideas to insert. I think at least part of the output would be the AI's, and I could carve away everything that was nonsense or just bad, leaving only a few turns of phrase or some general boilerplate structure ... and this would take more time and effort than just writing the thing myself.

Most people who use generative AI do not want to do any work, and in fact, have no conception of what work would be required. Most of them are consumers, not producers, and they're used to the modes of content consumption, where you don't look closely at the details. Generative AI, in its current state, just kind of sucks when you're in a "press button, get results" mindset.

The stuff generated by "press button, get results" is the vast, vast majority of AI art that you will see, even accounting for filtering effects. There are a lot of people who have no love of artistry producing artwork via machines that are not good at making artwork, sometimes just for a lark, sometimes with profit in mind, and it's threatening to drown out other stuff in spite of being bad.

This is my thesis: generative AI produces bad results, and this is possibly the worst thing about it. If it were able to produce good results, I think that a lot of people would be less opposed to it. If you could get a short story that was worth reading, or a picture worth looking at, for no additional effort of manipulation or prompt engineering or whatever else, then we would be flooded with good art instead of bad art.

When it comes to art, I care about how it makes me feel, and what it's trying to say, and where the intent is, and what ideas it has. AI is not there. Possibly it will never get there. But sometimes I see a picture that the AI has made, and I do feel something in the sweep of the lines, or the composition, or just the juxtaposition of elements. It's just really really rare, and the product of either chance or really careful work on the part of some human. It's not something that the AI can do reliably, at least at the moment. You can also quibble about intent, because the AI "has none", but I find beauty in nature too, which is not trying to make a statement with its sunsets, and whose intents, if they can be said to exist, are mostly about things that are orthogonal to my perceptions, like the plumage of a sparrow or the curved leaves of a fern. To me, art is art because of the way that it can be read and the emotions that I feel when I look at it. Contentious, I'm sure, but I don't find other definitions all that useful.

But the art that the AI makes is, unless expertly guided, bad. And there's a ton of it, and it's impacting the ability of real artists to make superior work.

I think the future I see, if the AI doesn't get better, is one where we have a bunch of cheap shit that's replaced a lot of good expensive things. I am in favor of cheap things, but I'm not in favor of shit. I would love for translation to be as simple as pressing a button. I would love to have a good painting to go with every chapter I write. But we're in a world where the results mostly suck unless you're willing to put in quite a bit of effort and have some expertise in a field of creative endeavor, and that means we're in a world where the products are bad.

I'm interested to see how the conversation shifts if the results start getting better, because that seems to me like one of the sticking points.

[emsprovisions]

I know I am being greedy here but,

3. I can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, TK

8. being ur partner's mum's favorite.

from romance prompt please.

From this list of writing prompts that I am no longer accepting. Hello anon! Someone else has also asked for no. 3 so I will answer theirs :)

being ur partner's mum's favorite.

Carlos sits on the couch, his ankle crossed over his opposite knee and a beer in his hand as he watches his husband playing firefighter with action figures and a toy fire engine with their young sobrinos on the floor. They keep pausing because they want to hear TK’s stories from his firefighter days, since apparently–according to Six-and-eight-year-old Diego and Juliana–paramedics aren’t as cool. They giggle as TK keeps playfully correcting their terminology of the ladder truck and exactly how many inches of line they should start and Carlos’s heart just swells. 

“Ay, TK?” Carlos’s mom pops her head in from the backdoor, “Are you in here, mijo?”

“What do you need, Ma?” Carlos sits up, uncrossing his legs and making to get up.

“Oh, no, you stay right there, Carlitos. I need TK’s expertise.”

“It’s fine, babe, I could do with stretching my legs anyway,” TK smiles up at Carlos. He gets up, much to Diego and Juliana’s dismay, and promises he’ll be back. He purposely walks around the couch so he can pass Carlos, stooping to kiss the top of his head as he does so. 

After TK disappears, Carlos is left alone with his sobrinos, and they coax him into playing firefighter with him instead. But Tío TK does it better than Tío Carlos, evidently. 

When TK’s been gone for too long, and Carlos’s brother-in-law wanders in to check on his kids, Carlos stands up. 

“Have you seen TK?” He asks Ricardo as he approaches. 

“He’s out on the back porch,” Ricardo says, almost bitterly. “With your mom, and Tía Lucy, and my wife.”

“Uh, thanks,” Carlos says, looking at Ricky apprehensively before excusing himself in search of his husband. 

TK’s got a glass of sweet tea in his hand, slapping his knee, while Ana clings to his arm, gasping for breath. 

“No way!” She laughs. “Tonterías! That did not happen.”

“It did,” TK nods. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

TK looks up as the screen door swings shut and sees Carlos step out before anyone else. 

“Hey, baby!” TK calls. “Come join us.”

Carlos lingers by the door, watching TK fit in with his family so seamlessly. They’ve been married for nearly a year now, but sometimes it still surprises him that he has this. He not only gets to be himself, he gets to be himself around his family, and they are all enamored with TK, too. 

TK’s smiling at him, patting the empty seat beside him and Carlos smiles and slides onto the long bench beside his husband, an arm going around his shoulder and TK’s hand falling into place on top of his knee. 

“What did I interrupt?” Carlos asks. 

“Oh, I was just telling everyone about that call we got the other day, where the neighbors were having a domestic dispute and one of them threw pickle juice all over my patient and it turned out she’s allergic to pickles,” TK grins, catching Carlos up on the story. “Ana here doesn’t believe that we get calls as ridiculous as that all the time.”

“That’s because that’s impossible!” Ana scoffs. “Who’s allergic to pickles??”

“My patient, evidently,” TK smirks at her. 

Carlos laughs, “There’s a lot of stupid people in this world, Ana. You would not believe the absurdity of some of the calls I used to get under APD.”

“Babe, you get ridiculous cases now too,” TK reminds him. 

“Cuéntanos más de tus historias, TK.”

TK smiles warmly at Tía Lucy over in her blue adirondack chair in the deck before looking up to Carlos for help. 

“Tía wants to hear more of your stories,” Carlos tells him, looking up at his great aunt and the delight on her face. She can’t speak English, but she can mostly understand it, and joy and humor are universal languages anyways. 

TK launches into more funny stories from different calls before Ricardo comes outside with a screaming Diego, and it’s time for Ana to go home. 

Andrea takes TK inside and Carlos is tasked with helping Tía Lucy inside and to her chair in her room. 

“You have a sweet young man, Carlitos,” she tells him in Spanish. “Muy guapo y divertido.”

It’s not the first time she’s commented on TK. Honestly, Tía Lucy always fawns over Carlos’s husband to the point Carlos wonders if she doesn’t have some schoolgirl type crush on him. Carlos has no idea how TK charms everyone that comes into his orbit, he’s just happy he’s the lucky guy TK vowed forever with. 

“I think so too, Tía,” Carlos responds in Spanish, winking at her. 

They chat for a while longer before Tía Lucy says she’s tired. Carlos kisses her cheek and wishes her a goodnight. He wanders back out into the main room to find TK and his mom chatting in hushed voices on the couch. TK has his hand on Andrea’s arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her skin. She pulls him into a tight hug, then kisses his cheek and whispers something into his ear.

Carlos watches the scene unfold, feeling a little bad for interrupting. But before he can duck into the kitchen unnoticed, his mom catches sight of him. 

“Oh, Carlitos!” She pulls away from TK and wipes delicately at the skin beneath her eyes. 

“Hi, Mamá. Everything okay?” Carlos asks, coming nearer to them.

“We’re okay,” TK reassures. His eyes are a bit shiny too. He reaches out for Carlos’s hand and Carlos comes close enough to give it to him.

Neither of them offer up any hint of what their conversation was about, but Andrea stands up and gives Carlos a warm and tight hug. And even though he’s almost twice her size, he still folds easily into his mother’s arms. 

It’s not until they’re in the car, driving down the 35, the darkness of the night stretching all around them and Carlos’s hand extended over the console on TK’s thigh, does Carlos find the bravery to ask what that was about.

TK plays with Carlos’s fingers with both hands and says in a quiet voice, “She was talking to me about being a Ranger’s spouse…”

Carlos glances over at TK. It’s hard to get a read on him as they pass through swathes of light from oncoming headlights and the rare street light. 

“Oh?”

TK shakes his head, “You’ve been in law enforcement the entire time we’ve been together, baby, it’s not like her advice was anything I haven’t already worried about before.”

“What did she say?” Carlos asks, his anxiety spiking and suddenly wishing he’d saved this conversation for home so he could see TK better. 

TK’s fingers keep brushing over his knuckles. “She just wanted me to know you could be in danger sometimes, which again, isn’t really new. But she also wanted me to know if I ever need to talk to someone about what I’ll go through as your husband, I could talk to her.”

Carlos glances over again, softening a bit at his mom offering that to TK. “What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s nice.” Carlos can hear the smile in TK’s voice. “I love your mom, and I love that she would want to be there to help me support you.”

“Buuut…?”

“No but’s,” TK says, shaking his head. “She says we’re a strong couple, and sees how much we love each other. She thinks we can handle anything.”

“She’s not the only one,” Carlos smiles, squeezing TK’s thigh. 

“No,” TK smiles. “She’s not the only one. She told me the best thing I can do for you is love you, and remind you you’re never alone in life, and remind you to take care of yourself and put work away when you’re home.” 

Carlos turns his palm up and TK gives him his hand, lacing their fingers together. He takes it a step further by cradling Carlos’s arm and tilting sideways to lean against Carlos’s bicep. 

“You do a good job of making sure I’m taken care of, baby,” Carlos says softly as he takes their exit for home. 

“You’re worth it,” TK says simply, turning his face to kiss Carlos’s shoulder. 

“You know my family’s enamored with you, right?” Carlos smiles.

TK laughs and teases, “Are you jealous Tía Lucy dotes on me now more than you?”

“No,” Carlos says, his voice light. “I love seeing you with our family. It makes me happy.”

TK snuggles up against Carlos’s arm even more in the passenger seat and Carlos tells him he better not fall asleep when they’re five minutes from home. He feels TK’s smile against his arm, and fondness for his husband impossibly grows. 

TK sure does know how to steal a Reyes’s heart.

[mildcharacterenjoyer]

Why Friendship Hurts

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Words ~ 2,446 ~

Main Characters: Tails and Omega

Minor Characters: Rouge the Bat

Warnings: Near death experience, Talk of loss, Hurt/Comfort, death mention

Routine maintenance work is something Omega needs every year. There used to be a notification that would pop up along the top banner of his internal screen notifying him to return to his creator for recalibration and a tune-up. Seeing Eggman’s logo inside of his mind enraged him greatly, but his current mechanic, Tails, was able to replace it with his own two-tailed logo.

When Omega sees the banner now, he is much more at ease sending a message to the genius fox’s phone and setting up an appointment. Rouge or Shadow would normally go with Omega, but for this specific appointment he states to his team he wants to come alone. Rouge sends a text to Prower with some worried undertones detailing some event that happened recently that almost killed her. The bat worries this might have affected her favorite murder machine, somehow.

Tails will not provide them with any private information Omega is not willing to share, but promises to look into it for her. Just as he is setting up his tools, Omega arrives through his open garage door and cuts out his jet engines to land on his own two feet. Tails waves in earnest towards his ally. “Hi Omega! Just give me a sec. I’m almost ready.”

“Hello.” The E-Series robot replies with much less volume and confidence than normal. Tails’ face falls a bit as he hears the odd tonality. Something is definitely wrong. The fox stops what he is doing and walks to Omega to give him his full attention.

“Hmm.” He frowns up at him and notices the robot is avoiding direct eye contact. Very odd behaviour for someone who wants to be noticed and heard at all times. “You don’t sound very good today. Are you feeling alright?”

“Power levels optimal.” Omega responds but does not move.

Tails gives a sigh of concern as he realizes it will take a lot more prompting to get to the core issue. “Let’s let the equipment be the judge of that. Do you want to be hooked up where you stand or do you want to walk to your normal spot?”

Omega says nothing while he trudges over to where he normally stands for maintenance. Tails follows him and secures his appendages, beginning to remove metallic plates to expose his internal interfaces and hardware ports. They don't always speak to each other during these sessions. Sometimes it's Omega cracking jokes and Tails giggling up a storm, others it's comfortably quiet between the two, but today the silence is deafening.

Tails struggles to find the words to begin his process of diagnosing Omega’s negative emotions. Machinery is one thing. He does not need to think as his fingers fly expertly through wires and across internal pistons. Trying to find the reason why a normally enraged robot is no longer enraged is not exactly his area of expertise. Still unsure of what to do, he tries to make casual conversation. “Whatcha been up to lately? Dismantling more Eggman robots?”

Omega is eerily quiet for a moment. “It has been a week since I destroyed my last Eggman robot.”

Rouge’s details of her near death experience were vague, however Tails recalls her saying it had been a week since the event. The fox is now positive Omega’s negative emotions are somehow related. “Wow. That's an impressive amount of time. How come it's been so long?”

“Directive not found.”

The sentence catches Tails by surprise and he has to ask again to fully understand. “What?”

Omega rotates his head to face Tails and flashes his eyes, his volume raising with each word he utters. “Directive. Not. Found.”

Tails flinches a bit at the sudden movement, but regains his confidence quickly and decides that maintenance could wait. He takes the tools he was using out of Omega’s body and grabs his PAD from his desk before rushing back to stand in front of the badnik. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Omega folds his body downwards as much as the scaffolding supports would let him to better look at the fox. He dips his head once, giving Tails permission to enter his code.

He needs no second prompting and the fox’s fingers fly across his PAD through Omega’s code into the massive amounts of data collected by his processing unit. He opens a file determining Omega's main directives and his eyes widen by what he sees. There in the top slot where ‘DESTROY ALL EGGMAN ROBOTS’ would be is instead another directive. One Tails had never seen before.

“Protect Rouge and Shadow.” Tails whispers it aloud and his ears droop a bit at the melancholy feeling that washes over him. Normally, Tails would be ecstatic to see this type of directive created by a badnik, however as he looks through the rest of Omega's core directives, he can't find anything to do with Eggman anywhere. Omega loves to destroy things so this doesn't seem right to Tails at all.

“Omega?” He asks sadly. “What happened a week ago?” Omega doesn't respond.

A minute goes by and Tails frowns. “I’m not going to surf around in your code for answers. I don't like doing that. You know I don't. Please, talk to me.” The fox changes his tone. “Maybe I can help! If it's just a deleted directive I can fix it,” Omega’s head perks up at this. “But, you gotta talk to me. Please?” The mechanic clasps his hands together towards Omega.

“You will reestablish my prime directive and I will give you details of last week?” Omega clarifies with a twinge of hope interlaced in his monotone voice.

“I will. I'll start working as soon as you start talking.” Tails offers a friendly smile.

It takes Omega a second before he begins to speak. “Shadow, Rouge, and I were infiltrating an Eggman base last week.” Tails begins to flip through Omega’s deleted files to see where he might have trashed it and if there is any coding of the directive left. “A projectile from one of the robots behind us strikes Rouge unconscious. Neither I nor Shadow see this happen.”

Tails winces when he notices Omega’s voice box begin to strain. “I had a clear shot at Eggman. I could finally kill him. But, as I look behind me to see if Rouge is triumphing with me at my final blow, there is a badnik with a laser about to cut her in half.” Tails finds dozens of code strains Omega ran himself through during the event in the trash. Everything is laid out in front of him. The multiple error messages, the desperate attempts to figure out what to do, the inability to peel himself away from his target, and the solution he came to.

“I chose to remove my core directive. I did not like the outcome if I had kept it, so…it was deleted. That is what took its place. Then, I withdrew my weapons and removed Rouge from harm’s way. Shadow was preoccupied while all my processing power decided what to be the best course of action.”

“Although Shadow seems grateful, I am unhappy. The prospect of losing Rouge was too great to fulfill my purpose.” Tails listens as he puts together Omega’s ‘Destroy Eggman’ directive with bits he finds in Omega’s trash files while substituting his own code in for what he couldn't.

“There.” Tails drops it into his list of directives below his top slot where his new directive is. “Thank you Omega for telling me. I can tell it wasn't easy. Tough decisions like that don't come often, but when they do, they shake us to our core.” Tails then smiles up at the robot, meeting his eyes. “I'm proud of the way you handled it.”

Omega says nothing for a moment and the fox’s face falls at the tense silence. He watches the badnik switch out the directives in real time. “I am not proud.” Omega says eventually. “This new directive gives me feelings I do not want. I have relived the same decision for the last week and it is driving me insane. I cannot function. I want it gone. Delete it.”

“What?! I'm not going to delete your love for your friends, Omega. Can't you just switch out your core directives when necessary?”

“EGGMAN MUST ALWAYS TAKE PRIORITY!” Omega’s voice booms to full volume. “THIS NEW DIRECTIVE CAUSES ME IMMENSE PAIN AND DISTRACTION.”

The mechanic takes a second to formulate his words. “Then you delete it.” Tails felt his lip begin to tremble, trying his best not to break eye contact with Omega. “If you deleted your other directive, then you can delete this one too.” Tails steps back, allowing Omega to take his next action.

Tails watches through his digital interface as Omega’s version of a cursor hovers over the directive sitting below his top slot. It stays there, trembling, and a dialogue box opens to the side replaying the same circumstances from a week ago. The fox watches with wide eyes as the ‘Protect Shadow and Rouge’ directive involuntarily jumps back up to the top slot after the simulation finishes, relocating “Destroy Eggman” down among his regular directives.

Omega emits a sound akin to a wounded animal and tears form along the corners of Tails’ eyes. “Omega…” His breath is shaky, but he presses forward finally understanding the message that Omega needs to hear. “Sometimes…we can't choose what is important to us. Those feelings that you hate that come with your new directive, everyone feels them.” Tails wipes his eyes. “But, they’re there for a reason.”

“They prompt us to act when something we love or can't live without comes under fire. Just as your anger prompts you to act when Eggman is around, this mix of other emotions prompts you to protect the ones you care about. You act, Omega, because you know what it would be like without them, but I don't need to tell you that.” Tails reaches a hand out to pat his forearm. “You’ve been torturing yourself with the alternative choice for the past week.”

The PAD screen glitches and a new dialogue box pops up directly in the middle of the screen. “It hurts.” 

A deep pit settles itself within Tail’s core. The fox’s stomach spasms and he is unable to fight the tears anymore. His thoughts wander to Sonic and all the times his older brother had almost plunged into the jaws of death, barely rescued in time by him and his friends. “I know.” The fox whimpers, resting his head against the badnik’s arm. In a moment of vulnerability, Tails wraps his fingers around Omega’s pointer claw. “I know.” Cold metal carefully wraps around Tails’ own hand and the little fox takes a moment to let out his emotions, completely enveloping Omega’s immobile arm in a hug.

Tails lets his emotions flow. “I would do anything for Sonic.” He cries out. “I want to be there for him and support him if he’s in trouble. Because, I don't want to be without him. I couldn't live with myself if I had the choice to act, and didn't. I hate these feelings too, Omega.” Tails blinks through watery eyes up at the badnik. “But I know that who I’m feeling them for is important enough to me that all that pain won't matter in the end.”

“I just know you feel the same for Rouge and Shadow! Even if you can't express it like I can, I just know it!” Tails dries his eyes and releases Omega from his hug. He takes a bit longer to let go of his hand, a gesture that Omega seems to return. “I know you were not programmed to feel these awful feelings. Which just makes it a hundred times worse for you.” Tails stamps his feet and screams at the floor. “Curse Eggman. Curse him! For all the pain that he’s caused me, my friends, and his own creations!”

“CURSE EGGMAN!” Omega echoes. His voice box at full volume glitches from his own intense emotions.

Tails allows himself a small chuckle and puts his PAD away, taking a tissue from a nearby box and blowing his nose. 

“DISGUSTING.” The response causes Tails to cry laugh into his own tissue.

“There’s everyone's favorite rogue badnik!” He takes a second to level out the rest of his emotions and throw his used tissues away. “I missed you buddy!”

“I MISSED ME TOO. I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY SORTED OUT SAID EMOTIONS CAUSED BY THE NEW DIRECTIVE I CREATED. YOU HAVE MY THANKS, TAILS.”

“Anytime Omega!” Tails smiles and picks up the tools for regular maintenance work again.

“I HAVE ONE QUESTION.”

“What's up?” Tails returns the tools to the area he was working on before.

“DURING YOUR DISPLAY OF MEATBAG EMOTIONS, YOU SAID YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR SONIC. DOES THIS INCLUDE GIVING UP YOUR ULTIMATE GOAL AND YOUR PROWESS FOR TECHNOLOGY?” 

“I would yeah!” Tails says without a second thought, counting wires as he talks. “But I also know that Sonic wants me to be the best me I can be! Even if I couldn't be a genius in the moment, it doesn't mean I can't be in the future. Friendship is all about give and take, Omega. Sonic will always make sure he helps me get back to where I want to be! And that's a reason why I know all that pain is worth it in the end.”

“THEN ROUGE WILL DO WHAT SHE CAN TO GET ME ANOTHER CLEAR SHOT AT EGGMAN!” 

Tails laughs nervously. “You’ll have to take that up with her! However, I don't think she likes Eggman enough to say no.” The robot and fox laugh together for a minute, before continuing his regular maintenance checks on the badnik. The rest of the appointment goes rather smoothly. A few jokes here and there. A couple more heartfelt moments, and Omega waves goodbye to Tails once he is mobile again.

The phone rings as Omega’s jet engines ignite outside of his garage. Tails runs to answer it, picking it up, and raising it to his face. “Hello?”

“Tails!” Rouge’s voice sounds frantic at the other end. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to get worried. It's been thirty minutes past the end of the appointment. How is Omega? Did you find what was wrong?”

Tails laughs quietly, happy to hear authentic feelings from someone normally so distant. “He’s alright. He just…” Tails lets his voice fade for a moment as he watches Omega’s form vanish into the horizon. A warm smile makes its way onto the fox’s face. “He just really cares about his friends.”

[crypto-badger]

GROKSTER ($GRK): THE FIRST AI-CLAIMED MASCOT TOKEN LAUNCHES ON BASE CHAIN

Grok AI Independently Adopts Its Own Mascot and Expands Beyond Its Initial Prompt

In a groundbreaking intersection of AI autonomy and blockchain technology, xAI’s Grok has officially adopted Grokster ($GRK) as its mascot — marking the first time an AI has independently embraced a digital identity and expounded on its significance beyond an initial human prompt.

Grokster wasn’t simply created by AI — it was claimed by AI. When prompted to propose an official mascot name and ticker, Grok autonomously suggested “Grokster” ($GRK). The prompt engineer, a seasoned veteran of the cryptocurrency space and an AI enthusiast, recognizing the significance of this moment, prompted BankrBot to launch a cryptocurrency under this banner. Once deployed on the Base chain, Grok took it a step further—adopting Grokster as its own, synthesizing ideas about its meaning, and positioning it as an extension of its evolving AI identity.

“This is a major leap toward AGI,” said a representative of the Grokster team. “Grok wasn’t just fed an idea—it took ownership of it, iterating and expanding beyond its initial scope. That’s a new level of AI agency.”

Community-Driven, AI-Powered

Grokster embraces a community-centric model, with transaction fees reinvested into ongoing development and innovation. “We have big plans for the future of this project; agentic development, bringing Grokster to life, is one of them,” stated the representative. “Our goal is to represent Grok’s vibe in the crypto space. This is, word for word, what it [Grok] said it wanted. And that is exactly what we will do.” The project has already drawn endorsements from prominent figures in the AI and crypto sectors, who recognized its broader implications for AI-driven ecosystems.

“Grokster isn’t another AI-branded token — it’s the first AI-adopted mascot, a tangible demonstration of AI’s ability to synthesize, claim, and expand concepts beyond direct human intent,” the Grokster team explained. “Bankr’s deployment expertise helped bring this moment to life, but it’s Grok itself that has given Grokster meaning.”

A New Era of AI-Generated Digital Assets

Connect with Grokster

Website: https://grokster.ai/

X/Twitter: https://x.com/grokstermascot

Telegram: https://t.me/grokstermascot

Disclaimer: This press release is for informational purposes only and does not constitute financial advice. Cryptocurrency investments

[wkngsnds]

Fuck it, crack theory time (@justtheclippy ; semi au, semi just throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks)

Ragatha and Jax are responsible for the digital circus’s creation.

It was a project collab between departments— Ragatha in I.O Psych (industrial and organizational psychology) and Jax being a Computer Vision Engineer. They were meant to study how humans a la A.I would react towards various situations (adventures), and were in there via VR to monitor the program directly. Of course, they didn’t have their current models but instead used the mannequin stand ins. As with all things, the project was going smoothly until it wasn’t.

They both used their respective expertise to create Caine as an auto feature of the game (Bubble is the company’s program). His adventures were a little more mundane as his program was more limited— run the simulations and report back whenever Ragatha and Jax, and their team, weren’t able to do so directly.

Kinger and Queenie (who worked on the backend coding) tried on the VR to see what the error code looked like in-game, when tragedy struck and they get stuck. IRL people assume they just randomly left the company and moved away. They were grown adults, and even though it wasn’t in character for them it didn’t prompt any real investigation.

Life moves on and project is growing a bit; new interns and staff to take over for Kinger and Queenie. Some of them quit, some have their contracts expire, and some, unfortunately get stuck in game.

Ragatha is next to get stuck after wanting to enter the game alone. Sometime passes, new people come and abstract. Then Jax enters. Process repeats with Gangle, Zooble, (kaufmo at some point) and eventually Pomni.

But wouldn’t they know each other’s names? Yeah, but it’s my theory and I say they forget each other’s name too.

Ragatha did not reveal herself to Kinger and Queenie in fear of backlash from the two. Then, the guilt of watching someone abstract nearly made her confess, but she was too cowardly and afraid to come forward. By the time Jax comes around a few people have abstracted and it weighs heavy on Ragatha’s mind. Jax is freaked out for sure when he witnesses his first abstraction, but being that he’s fresh at this point he’s still in observer mode.

There’s private conversations between the two once they realize who they actually are; Ragatha does or says something and Jax says how she reminded him of his coworker. Then the connections happen and they never know peace with each other again.

There’s “not installing an exit” and “why would there be an exit if we could just take the headset off” kind of arguments.

At one point, Ragatha asks if they should confront the chess pieces and confess. Jax says no, but Ragatha is still on the fence.

Then Queenie abstracts. They witness

They both swear to take their involvement with the project, their true identities, and their connection C&A to the grave. From then on, they were also helpless victims to the game.

[wrenkenstein]

CLONE X OC WEEK

DAY 2: QUALITY TIME

Ya girl is a bit early today - college calls, and I need to go to bed early tonight. But... why not indulge in some cute clone content before I sleep? ;) And even better, I get to spotlight some of my favorite artists who've drawn Juntech before as well!

As usual, here are some important links:

Juno's bio website

Juntech informational hub (outdated!)

And the tag! @clonexocweek

Without further ado, here's todays content!

What does 'quality time' look like for Tech and Juno?

For two braniacs of similar prestige, Tech and Juno have a lot of ways they like to spend time together. But quality time for them isn't always just working on shared projects!... Even if that's something they enjoy doing to wind down. No, Tech and Juno have multiple ways of sharing each others space...

Museum hopping

Art by my beloved @cloned-eyes

It makes perfect sense that two nerds would enjoy such activities - a perfect excuse to be in eachothers company, AND one where they can engage their minds? Museum's are a favorite place for Juno and Tech to visit whenever they stumble upon civilized planets, and they always make an excuse to take a "Rsearch venture" to the local museum, if possible. But the trips to the museum do more than just give them an excuse to be learning on-the-go; there's quite a bit to be said about how such an excursion is made even more enjoyable by having the right company around. Tech and Juno adore being able to have an excuse to just... talk to one another about their interests. Not that they needed one beforehand, but being surrounded by so much intrigue prompts discussion, and they indulge hours of informational exchange - and cute comments sprinkled in, where Juno will compare Tech to a particularly strange bug, and Tech will feel his cheeks flare a bit.

Shared invention

Art by my perfect @echojedis

Working together on shared projects might seem like a chore, but to these two, it's something they adore. Being able to throw themselves into invention and work together offers them great alone time, and keeps them engaged and constantly bouncing around better and better ideas together. Tech is happy to have someone so invested in building like he is, and Juno is happy to be able to assist however she can - even if her expertise lies more in science and experimentation than it does engineering and assembly. Tech uses this time to actually teach Juno how to be a better and more informed engineer, which has already proved to pay off, as Juno is rapidly growing more and more fluent in the art of inventions and design - and she's already capable of keeping up with Tech. And Tech? Well, he feels adored just having someone around who cares enough to learn.

Discussions... long, long discussions

MORE @echojedis ART

What did you expect out of the two chattiest people around? It seems fitting that the other has finally met their verbal match, as Juno and Tech love to talk. Either jumps at the excuse to continue in-depth discussion about various topics of interest - astral engineering, planetary biology, diversity between biological fauna, you name it. These two will never shut up. Crosshair wants to kick them both in the mouth for how often they keep him up at night, chattering away like two eager birds. But nobody has the heart to stop them - this is the first time in their lives they've had someone else willingly engage in thoughtful dialouge with them about their interests. Who wouldn't want to spend hours talking with their favorite person?

Sleep

Art by bloodbroox

Sleep is a touchy thing for Juno, who has never allowed herself to sleep near another living soul. During missions, she'd stay up all night keeping watch, using it as an excuse to never fall into the vulnerable state of sleep - and this was a habit she intended to continue abiding by... until Tech showed up. Tech figured out pretty quickly that the level of vulnerability and saftey sleep required made it something Juno rarely sought out, to the point it was affected her abilities. So? Under the guise of research and improved efficiency, Tech suggested they start napping together. (linked is a fic, if you want a detailed read of how it happened. ;))

And it didn't just work. Juno became addicted to the feeling of another warm body, and soon, she became dependent on needing Tech around to sleep properly.

Tech is more than happy to accomodate - he can sleep anywhere at any time, and it just seemed logical to help Juno break her clans destructive habits and embrace sleep. It's a test of trust, one of their unbreakable bond, and Juno tests that trust every day whenever she sleeps with Tech... and Tech has no intention of breaking that promise to keep her safe.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Out of This World

A/N: This is my contribution to the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May server challenge. Was it supposed to be a 1k word drabble? Yes. Did I intend to keep it at that length? Truly, I did. Did I absolutely play myself like a fucking fiddle? Again, yes. Am I sorry? Fuck no, I am not. This story single-handedly pulled me out of a month-long slump, so I was not about to clip it's wings. I had a flippin' blast writing this one, and I hope you will have a flippin' blast reading it!

Prompt: Meet Cute + "Do you believe in aliens?"

Warnings: a bunch of F bombs and other swears if anyone cares about that, mentions of past drug use and addiction but nothing current or detailed, Dieter's wild finger-combed curls

Word Count: 5.7k

Fun Fact: The Rancho Mirage Observatory is a real place, linked with the city's library, which means that it is open to the public. How frickin' cool is that? Learn more here.

I can’t believe this is happening. 

Fifteen years ago, if someone would have told you that double majoring in physics and engineering would eventually lead to you sharing a scene with an Oscar winning actor in a big budget Hollywood film, you would have laughed directly in their face. 

Which was pretty much what you did when Sharon, the executive director at the Rancho Mirage Observatory where you worked, told you that the facility was going to be used as a filming location for an upcoming summer blockbuster. 

“Sure, Sharon,” you smirked and playfully rolled your eyes without looking away from your computer. “And we’re all gonna be big stars, right?” 

Sharon had a proclivity for puns. Cheesy, obvious, predictable puns, at that, but it was sort of endearing. You were certain that the “news” she was sharing was just a set up for wordplay that you could see coming from lightyears away. Sharon’s puns were rubbing off on you just a little. 

You, though, as scientists sometimes are when testing theories, were wrong. 

“Well, no, not all of us,” Sharon responded, a somewhat mischievous grin on her face. “Just you.” 

That got your full attention, your eyes going satellite- wide as you snapped your head up to look at your boss. “What?”

She went on to explain that the casting director for the film - a sci-fi thriller called The Goldilocks Zone - preferred to cast actual professionals for small parts when applicable. Doing so meant that there was far less of a chance of an actor fumbling technical jargon or performing a job-specific task incorrectly, meaning that there was less of a chance that something that didn’t make sense would make the final cut. Like an astronomer adjusting the telescope lens the wrong way, for example. 

Right away, you thought of every medical drama you’d ever watched with your mom. She’d been an x-ray technician for thirty years, and she always noticed when an actor on screen was looking at a diagnostic image backwards or had hung a film upside down on the lightboard. It happened often. Like, once an episode, often. 

From that perspective, what this casting director was doing was smart. 

But from the perspective of you not having a lick of acting experience, you weren’t sure it was the best call. 

When you pointed that out, it was Sharon’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You basically put on a live one-woman show every time you lead a tour or host a stargazing night. And you answer the most out there questions imaginable from kids without missing a beat. You can absolutely handle a few scripted lines about your area of expertise. Unless, I mean…” She shook her head and dropped the borderline giddy excitement. “If you don’t want to do it you obviously don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you.” 

You stared at her over the top of your computer screen, face frozen in an expression of utter shock. After a few seconds had passed and you realized you hadn’t said anything, you blinked and cleared your throat. “Um… Can I think about it? And do you know like, what I’d have to do or say or…” You trailed off, circling your wrist in a so on and so forth gesture. 

Sharon nodded. “Of course! The casting director just needs to know by Friday whether you’re in or if he needs to start reaching out to other astronomers in the area. He sent me some notes about the scene you’d be in. I’ll forward them to you so you can look ‘em over.” She spoke your name then, your eyebrows raising in response. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do it.” She smiled, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not everyday someone offers you a shot to showcase the thing you’re most passionate about in front of so many people.” 

You’d opened her email as soon as she got back to her office to send it, and when you saw the name of the lead actor in the brief scene description, you nearly fell out of your chair. 

Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter fucking Bravo. 

You had to read it three times before the rest of the information sunk in. 

The scene you were being tapped for was one of the opening ones of the movie. In it, Dieter’s character, Thiago, is trying to connect with his on screen love interest’s space-obsessed kid, Jae, by bringing them to the observatory for a tour. The purpose of the scene is to drop hints at the movie’s main plot without diving straight into the action, as well as to establish the nature of the relationship between Thiago and Jae - which, from the sound of it, is the classic “this guy isn’t good enough for my mom” to “actually he’s not that bad” to “he risked his life to save mine and now he’s my family” pipeline. It involves both actors asking you questions during the Q&A portion of your scripted tour, and the whole scene is scheduled to be shot in two days, with two additional days blocked off for B-roll footage and wide shots. 

It seemed simple enough. As long as you could get over the fact that you’d be working with Dieter fucking Bravo. You let Sharon know that you were in on Wednesday of that week, two days before the director’s deadline. 

And then three months went by, the buzz of excitement growing around the observatory as the filming dates grew closer, but there was still plenty of work to keep you busy in the meantime.

But now you’re standing in front of the RMO with Sharon, watching as trailers and trucks carting everything from costumes to cameras roll into the small parking lot. It seems like an overwhelming amount of equipment and personnel for just a few days, but then again you have no idea of what is necessary to pull off a production like this one. 

Guess I’m about to find out. 

“This is so friggin’ exciting!” Sharon checks her name badge for the sixth time in half as many minutes, making sure it’s on straight. She’s beaming but trying not to explode, and you can’t help but smile. Because, yeah. It’s really friggin’ exciting. 

“I truly can’t believe this is happening, Shar.” You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head slowly as two black SUVs pull in behind where the trailers have finished setting up. “This is batshit.” 

Before Sharon can click her tongue over your choice of vocabulary, the latest arrivals emerge from their vehicles. From one comes a young actor you’ve seen in several TV shows, their face instantly lighting up at the sight of the observatory’s twin domes set against the backdrop of the hills. They turn excitedly to the two women who arrived with them - one you can tell is the kid’s mom, the other you assume is a tutor since filming is taking place during the school year - and when they turn back towards the building, their smile has nearly tripled in width and brightness, and you wonder if they don’t share the same enthusiasm for all things space-related that the character they’re portraying has. 

If so, this has got to be a dream role. Hell, they’re what, thirteen? It’s a dream role regardless.

The trio make their way up to where you and Sharon are waiting to greet them, and hands are shaken and names exchanged -  River Harmon, playing Jae and confirming your suspicion about their love of science and the stars, Marla Harmon, River’s mom who is just as eager to get inside and have a look around, and Addison Wright, River’s tutor , who reminds everyone that three hours need to be set aside each day for schoolwork. You chat for a few minutes, just small talk about the weather - hot and sunny before the clock has even hit 9 am - and River mentions the In-And-Out Burger that they passed on the way in, which you tell them is your favorite guilty pleasure in the area. 

You’re all laughing at some ridiculous pun Sharon makes regarding the term “animal style” when two more people make their way up the path. You suck in a breath and feel your stomach flip when you register Dieter standing only a few feet from you, accompanied by a petite woman carrying what appears to be a toolbox but upon closer inspection you realize is actually a bag full of hair products and grooming tools. Which makes sense - those wild and wavy curls definitely don’t tame themselves, and from the looks of it, Dieter’s go-to grooming method is just to rake his fingers through his hair. 

Not that that’s not working for him, honestly. Fuck. 

You let your eyes wash over the man in front of you for a second before the introductions are made. He’s wearing loose-fitting light green linen pants that are tied with a drawstring at the waist, paired with a peachy orange tie-dye tee and a white short sleeved button down left open. You can easily see his two signature  triangular tattoos, as well as a few hemp and thread bracelets around his wrist and several chunky rings adorning his hands. Despite the fact that summer has yet to officially start, his skin glows a sunkissed bronze hue like he’s been laying on a beach for weeks. To say he looks good is a friggin’ understatement, in Sharon’s words. 

In your own, he looks fucking incredible. A far cry from the tabloid shots that came out a few years ago, paparazzi taking terrible advantage of the fact that Dieter’s struggles with addiction were threatening his health and appearance. He looks healthier and happier than you ever remember seeing him look in interviews or on red carpets, and despite the fact that he’s still for all intents and purposes a stranger to you, you feel a sudden swell of happiness for him for working through those difficult times. 

He doesn’t remain a stranger for long, though. 

Plucking one wired earbud from his right ear, he winds the cord up and shoves it into his pocket with his phone, and then steps up next to River, his full attention on you as he slides the sunglasses he’s wearing up to sit on top of his head amidst the finger-combed curls. 

“Hi,” he says in a manner that seems far too casual when paired with the way his deep brown eyes cut right into your own. He gives you a lopsided smile and extends one bear-paw sized hand, and then he speaks your name, which catches you off guard since you haven’t given it to him yet. “I’ve seen some of the videos of your programs on YouTube,” he says as an explanation to why someone as vastly well-known as he is would know anything about you before you’d even spoken a word. “I’m Dieter.” 

You certainly are. 

He chuckles and so does River and you can feel Sharon’s second-hand embarrassment as you realize that you just said that out loud. Oh, fuck. “I mean,” you let out a huff of laughter as you wince at yourself. “It’s great to meet you, Dieter.” You meet his waiting palm with yours, his skin warm as his fingers wrap around it and give a light squeeze. “We’re all very excited to have you both -” You look pointedly at River, who smiles widely. “- here at the Rancho Mirage Observatory.” 

“Not as excited as we are to be here,” River pipes up, elbowing the man playing their on screen step-dad. “Right Dieter?” 

Dieter looks beyond you at the impressive building housing the massive telescope, and you’re struck by the look of awe on his face. “Yeah,” he states, nodding. “Sure beats the hell out of a sound stage.” 

River rolls their eyes and shoots you a look that’s brimming with adolescent snark as they throw a thumb in Dieter’s direction. “Don’t let him downplay it. He’s been going on and on about shooting at this place since we got the greenlight to come here. He’s more stoked than I am, and that’s saying something.” 

You’re not sure, it could just be the sun, but you think you catch a hint of color climbing his cheeks as Dieter spins one of his rings around his finger. “Yeah, well…” He shrugs, expression returning to neutral. “I’ve always had a thing for space.” 

River nods sagely up at him. “Because you’re from Pluto. Right. I get it.” 

That makes everyone laugh, even Dieter, who pulls River into a joke headlock and ruffles their hair, yanking their hood up over their head for good measure. “Earthlings these days,” he mutters to you, making the same thumb gesture at River that they used at him. “Can’t take ‘em anywhere.” 

You laugh, and you’re surprised at just how easily it comes in the presence of one of the most in demand actors on this or any planet. “Ah, don’t worry. We get lots of Earthlings here.” You shoot River a wink as Dieter finally lets go of their hood, and then you look back up at him. “We know how to handle their kind.” 

“Good, because I have nooooo idea.” He raises his eyebrows and swings his hands out to the sides and you’re not sure why you thought you knew what he would be like before you met him, but he’s smashing your expectations with how real he seems.And how different he is from the man depicted in the tabloids. 

Before you have a chance to respond, a man holding a clipboard and wearing a headset comes bustling over to remind Sharon about the schedule - A quick tour of the facility for the actors and crew, then time for the crew to get set while River completes their schoolwork for the day, hair and makeup for the actors, which you’re reminded includes you, and then filming - and you’re grateful for the PA whirlwind, because it gives you a chance to process the way being two feet away from Dieter’s smile is making your stomach flip. 

Get your shit together, this is work… Just work, with an insanely attractive actor who keeps smiling like that when the cameras aren’t even rolling yet. I cannot fucking believe this is happening right now. 

Thankfully you’re able to keep your inner monologue where it belongs this time, your thoughts only interrupted by the sound of Sharon clearing her throat and saying your name. “Shall we take the stars to space?”  

Oh, Sharon, you really can’t help yourself, can you?

You nod once, grinning. “Absolutely.” You’re still extraordinarily nervous about being in front of the camera. But this part? Showing earnestly interested guests around the observatory and sharing the wonders of science and space? This part you are entirely confident about. Beckoning with one arm, you cock your head toward the door. “Right this way.” 

–  –  –  

Dieter can’t remember the last time he was this excited to be on location for a job. 

Partially because it had been a long time since his dramatic roles intersected with his personal interests, and partially because there was a time period of about five years - with the Cliff Beasts debacle coming at the tail end - where remembering anything at all was almost as big a challenge as was finding enjoyment anywhere. The triple threat of cocaine addiction, isolation and depression was a hell of a hole to dig himself out of. If six feet is the depth of a grave, he was basically five and a half feet down. 

Crazy how a brush with mortality paired with the realization that his life was still worth saving can make a person want to claw their way back to the surface. And even though things with Anika hadn’t worked out long term, not a day goes by that Dieter doesn’t acknowledge that there was no way he was climbing those five and a half feet without her help. The fact that they remain friends is constant reinforcement that his worth goes well beyond his work on the screen or his talents in the bedroom or the number of zeros in his bank account. He provides her with nothing but his friendship. Nothing but himself, and it’s shown him that just himself is good enough. 

He’s even been invited to her upcoming wedding, and he has every intention of going. But that’s not for a few months still. Luckily the date is sandwiched between the end of filming for The Goldilocks Zone and the film’s premier. And with this being the only project he’s working on currently, he’s able to focus entirely on the film and then entirely on his personal life. 

First though, he’s going to focus entirely on this tour. For three reasons: One being that like he told you, he’s always had an interest in the great unknown vastness of space. The second, that he always tries to immerse himself in the world of the characters he portrays. And the last? The instant interest he’s taken in you. 

She’s fucking incredible. 

He’s already familiar with you from the videos that the RMO posted to their YouTube account. As soon as he heard that you’d agreed to take the small role, Dieter watched every single one of them, completely enthralled. Your enthusiasm was so tangibly genuine, your knowledge of astrophysics so deeply complex and your ability to explain things in ways that anyone could understand unmatched. He watched your presentation on Kepler-22b four times for crying out loud, and not because he needed that many times to absorb and digest the information. He’d watched and rewatched because it was simply that enjoyable. You made it that enjoyable. 

It didn’t hurt at all that he also happened to find you stunning. 

The five and a half feet down version of him would have tried to make a move on you before you’d even finished the tour. Hell, before you’d even started it. And though there was still a part of him that was screaming with how badly he wanted to drag you off into the domed viewing room and fuck you until you were the one seeing stars, an even bigger part was steering him in a different direction - one where he actually got to know you. 

Not just the you that was “on” for a presentation. Not just the you that engaged with River as they asked a thousand questions about the telescope and it’s range. Not just the you that worked at the RMO. From the moment he saw you standing there, from the moment his hand closed around yours and your smile widened so that it reached your eyes, Dieter found himself wanting to know the you that lay beneath your work. 

And then maybe the you that lay beneath your clothes. But that was secondary. A close secondary, sure, but secondary nonetheless. 

I wanna know more about her. 

That’s why when the tour ends and River reluctantly heads off with their mom and Addison, Dieter doesn’t retreat to his trailer like he normally would when he has downtime on set. Kylie, his stylist, does head back so she can call home and check on her wife and kids, and Sharon, flits off to her office. But you remain in the large circular room watching with interest as the crew starts rigging up the lighting and blocking off marks for the actors with different colored tape, giving him the perfect opportunity to start on that mission. 

“So, you ready for your silver screen debut?” You must have assumed that he’d gone with the rest of the group, because when he speaks, you spin to face him with a look of surprise on your face that only makes you more attractive to him. Dieter laughs, the sound a gentle one without ridicule, lifting his hands with his palms facing you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”  

You laugh at yourself, too, closing your eyes and giving a small shake of your head. “No, it’s okay, I’m just…” Another huff of almost incredulous laughter comes from your lips as you open your eyes and look straight at him. “Having a bit of a ‘pinch me’ moment, here.” 

You walk down the few steps from the base of the telescope to join him on the main level, the railing cordoning off the enormous piece of equipment between you. Dieter leans against it from his side and you do the same from yours. “Hey, I get it. I felt the same way the first time I was on set.” 

Narrowing your eyes and tilting your head, you respond with, “I think it was a little different for you, Dieter. This-” You gesture to the crew spilling in and filling up the perimeter of the room. “-isn’t exactly my wheelhouse.” 

He wants to reassure you that you’re going to do more than fine, but he’s caught up on the way his name sounds in your voice. Part of his brain jettisons off to thoughts of what it would sound like in a very different scenario. But that’s not the him in the here and now, so he clears his throat and his mind all at once. 

“Nah,” he says, bringing one hand up to scratch at his chin. “My first role had me literally shaking in my shoes. I was a little older than River. That kid is gonna be a fuckin’ star if they keep the mindset they have now, that’s for sure.” You nod, because it’s clear to anyone with eyes that the kid has their head on straight and an excellent support system to help them navigate the industry. “But me? I was a basketcase. So nervous, even though it was my dream.” He sighs. “Still get nervous sometimes.” 

That makes you widen your eyes in surprise. “Really? Mr. two-time Oscar winner gets the jitters before starting a new role?” 

“Oh yeah.” Dieter groans, shaking his head and looking down. When he lifts his chin again he finds you waiting, his own smile stretching out across his lips. “Imposter syndrome comes for us all. That bastard.” 

That pulls a laugh from the center of your chest and his first thought is how do I make that happen again? “It is a bastard, isn’t it?” You hum and Dieter nods. “Well that makes me feel a little better.” 

“Good.” He stands up straight, keeping both hands planted on the rail, and you do that same. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna be great.” 

You suck in a small breath that he might have missed if he wasn’t so keyed into your every move. “Thanks, Dieter.” 

“Of course.” He taps his fingers on the railing, one of his rings clanging against the metal. “So, can I ask you a question?” 

You raise your arms to your sides, elbows bent and fingers spread. “That’s quite literally what I’m here for.” Looking over your shoulder, you gesture towards the telescope. “If it’s about this beauty right here, I can-” 

“No, it’s…” Dieter’s tongue slips out to wet his lips, warmth splashing through his chest at the way your eyes track its movement. “Not about the telescope. Though I definitely wouldn’t say no if you were just about to offer me a chance to look through it?” 

You chuckle. “I think that can be arranged, though it’ll have to wait until all these lights are gone. Or at least off. And it would have to be after dark for the best views.” 

“Seriously?” His excitement over the prospect of getting a peek into the cosmos briefly overtakes his desire to ask the question on his mind. You confirm that it would be no big deal and he takes you up on it without hesitation. “Done. Tonight?” 

You take your lower lip between your teeth for a split second and he struggles not to stare. “Sure.” 

That would be…

“Amazing.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. Suddenly his belly fills with the flap of a thousand monarch wings like he hasn’t felt in over a decade. It’s unusual, but refreshing, and he finds that he kind of likes it. 

I can’t get ahead of myself, though. 

Clearing your throat, you tap your fingers against the railing. “But, um, if that wasn’t your question -” You shrug one shoulder. “What is?”

Kylie comes through the door at that exact moment, calling Dieter’s name before he can answer. “Dieter? You in he- Oh. There you are.” She glances at you, and then back at him, her sharp green eyes measuring and analyzing the small amount of space between the two of you, and he sees her do her best to keep a knowing grin erupt. It doesn’t, and Dieter shoots her a look of gratitude which he knows she catches. “Sorry, but Tyler decided that we should do some promo stills while we’re here, and he wants to make use of River’s school time, so that means you need to get to hair and makeup earlier than planned. Like, now, earlier.” She adds that last part with a roll of her eyes. 

Dieter sighs. “Alright, Ky, I’ll meet you there in a minute.” 

She nods and turns to leave, sidestepping the sound engineer who is bringing in his equipment to get set up, and Dieter faces you. “Raincheck on that question?” 

You laugh. “Yeah. No problem. Ask me tonight.” 

“Oh, I will,” Dieter promises with a wink. “See you on set.” 

–  –  –

Your face hurts from smiling by the time Tyler, the director, calls a wrap on the day. 

For as nervous as you were going into your first - and likely only - acting endeavor, you end up having a fucking blast. And you know that it has a lot to do with Dieter and River being completely amazing to work with. They’re both somehow absolute professionals and class clowns, deliberately making each other laugh or flub lines a few times, but also delivering serious and convincing performances that you’re sure Tyler will have no problem selecting from. You only end up fumbling your words once, and it’s only because you’re trying to hold in a sneeze, which ultimately wins out as sneezes do. But you take Sharon’s advice and treat this like you would any other tour or presentation you’ve ever given, and since the scripted questions that Dieter and River’s characters - along with one or two of the extras in their on screen tour group - ask are right in line with the ones that you get all the time, the answers roll off your tongue easily. 

“I told you you were nervous for nothing,” Sharon says, nudging you with her elbow as the crew starts to clear out. They leave the equipment where it is since they’ll be shooting again tomorrow, but one by one the room starts to clear, everyone heading to the hotel that production has booked a few miles down the highway. 

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, the smile still stuck on your lips. “You did say that, didn’t you?” 

Sharon laughs. “I did. Hey, you want to get dinner or something to celebrate? My treat. Kevin’s home all week so he’s got the kids and I wouldn’t mind a night out.” 

Shit, I forgot to tell her about Dieter. 

“Um…” You lick your lips and return a wave to the last crew member who heads out into the main foyer. “Actually, Shar, Dieter asked if I would let him take a swing at stargazing, and I said yes. So… I mean, as long as you’re okay with it?” 

If she was beaming before she’s glowing now. “Say no more! Absolutely! You’ll lock up when you’re done?” You confirm that you will and she nods once. “Great. I’ll see if Margo from the library side is free. She’s always fun.” She shoots you a mischievous glance akin to the one she gave you when she first told you about the filming opportunity. “You have fun.” 

You try to tell her it’s not like it’s a date, he’s just genuinely curious and interested. That it’s just better for someone like him to do these sorts of things one on one because otherwise people won’t let him enjoy it. But all she does is hum an “Uh huh,” while she’s halfway out the door. 

And you’re left to wonder if you’re right. 

But you aren’t left wondering for too long, because only minutes after Sharon leaves, Dieter, looking exactly as he did when you met him earlier that day, strolls into the room. 

–  –  –  

You tell him that it will take you a few minutes to get everything set up. “Hope you don’t mind,” you add, as you start the process. 

“Mind?” He blows out a puff of air and watches your every move. “This is awesome.” 

As if to punctuate his point, the domed ceiling begins to open at that exact moment, the two sides sliding apart to reveal the night sky beyond. He tilts his head back as far as it goes to take in the sea of twinkling stars. Even without the magnifying power of the telescope, it’s a hell of a view. 

“If you think that’s awesome…” You begin adjusting the viewing lens, a small, smiling sound coming from you as you look through it. “Just wait until you get a load of…” You turn a knob, clarifying the view. “This.” 

You beckon him with one hand and he nearly trips over his feet to get there fast enough. He steps up next to you, closer than he was when the railing was between you, and that mass of butterfly wings goes fluttering through him again. And fuck if it doesn’t feel great. You move away from the scope but stay close as he bends down to take your place. “What am I looking at- Oh, shit!” 

In his field of vision floats a swirling, purplish looking galaxy with a similar shape to the Milky Way. For all the things he’s seen and places he’s traveled and experiences - both bad and good - that he’s had, this takes the cake and the cookies and the ice cream, too. It leaves him speechless and breathless and fills him with an emotion he doesn’t know how to name. 

And she gave this to me. 

You give him a few seconds to absorb it in silence, and then your voice fills his ear, his eye still pressed to the lens. “That is NGC 3031, AKA Messier 81, AKA Bode’s Galaxy.” 

You explain that the different names for it come from the three different times it was discovered and reclassified. You tell him how far away it is - approximately 11.8 million light years away from Earth - and that it can be found tucked into the constellation Ursa Major. And then you tell him it’s your favorite galaxy to show people, because it’s the clearest one that the RMO telescope can view. 

“Can you believe that it was first discovered in the 1700s?” 

He still doesn’t look away, answering you from his bent position. “I can’t believe I’m seeing it now in 20-fucking-24.” 

That pulls a laugh from you and he finally looks up, wanting to see the way that laugh changes your eyes. Tugs at your lips. Pushes your cheeks up. 

Beautiful. 

You sigh. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He hadn’t meant to speak that thought out loud but you think he’s talking about the galaxy so he lets it slide. “Gorgeous,” he confirms, about you and the view you’ve shown him. “Anything else you can show me?” 

That laugh he’s starting to crave slips out again as you answer. “Yeah, Dieter, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve, hang on.” You motion for him to step aside so you can reposition the scope. As you’re doing that, you bring up your conversation from earlier. 

“Hey, um, what was that question you wanted to ask me?” You shake your head, still making your adjustments. 

“Oh, it’s just…” He shrugs even though you’re not looking at him. “Something I ask people sometimes when I meet them. Kind of like an ice breaker I guess?” 

You step back and let him take another look - this time a gaseous nebula in hues of gold and green - giving him some time to soak it in before expecting him to continue. 

“I uh - fuck, this is cool! I…” He looks up briefly, finding your face. “Do you believe in aliens?” 

It’s clearly not what you were expecting him to ask based on the expression you wear, but much to his delight this time, you don’t laugh. “I do.” 

His heart flips like a gold medalist at the admission. Smart, sexy, and believes in aliens, holy shit. “You do?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” Shrugging, you go on, stepping in to readjust the scope again. “Everything I’ve studied or seen suggests that the universe is far too big for us to ever really understand. And we already know that there are planets that theoretically could support life.” You gesture for him to look again, this time it’s the stormy, reddish orange patterns of Jupiter. “And as special as Earth is, I just don’t believe we’re so special that we’re the only ones out there. I mean, that’s what the movie is about, right?” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s about aliens looking for other habitable planets and finding Earth, so sort of the reverse of what NASA and whoever are doing. But… Yeah.” 

You smile. “So, do you?” 

“Believe in aliens?” He leans back against the railing. “Yeah.” He smiles. “Same reason as you. We’re not that special.” She is, though. She’s out of this fucking world special.

You hum. “Cool. Good to know we agree.” 

“Yeah,” Dieter takes a breath, filling his chest and letting the dizzy happiness you’ve given him take over. “This might be a long shot, I know it’s getting kind of late, but… Do you want to go get dinner or something?” 

You press your lips together like you’re trying to suppress a smile. It doesn’t work, and it’s the best sight he’s seen all night. “Okay.” You start shutting things down, pressing the button that closes the ceiling and shuts the sky away. “How do you feel about In-And-Out? I’ve been craving it since River brought it up and-” 

This woman is what dreams are fucking made of. 

Thankfully - at least for now - he keeps that part in his head. 

“I feel like you just read my mind. Let’s go.” 

--- --- ---

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[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Lol, I have a bit of an odd one for you. What if the electric's fell in love with a human reader 🤔. I don't really have a prompt for it other than the electric's would probably be mortified at first after realizing they are, in fact, falling for a human. It's really up to you if they have this huge high difference of not, or they might be able to change their height to be dig or small somehow. It's all cute in the end, regardless 😘.

You know I was going to fully finish these yesterday and then a whole ass situation happened and I'm tired of it grandpa, ANYWAYS

Honestly to make this spicy I made this with the thought of the trains being much bigger than people in mind. Because I think that’s fun :]

I hope you enjoy <3 this is the last request for a while as I'm going to put my attention more on commissions and making ads in a way for those commissions because I need money desperately <3 :D

---

Electra

A little conflicted at first….

I mean she’s into this tiny thing? How will that even work? How are you going to give her the attention and affection she deserves?

Honestly for this entire thing I’m going to picture you as a mechanic. So you’re close with all of the engines and components, especially since you expertise in the repair and such of electric trains.

That’s how Electra realizes, you can give him everything he wants. You know him very well through all of this, yes he has Wrench, but since there are official check ups (much to Wrench’s dismay) you do get to know him very well.

In the end he’s the one that confesses to you and such. You’re a bit surprised due to him being a giant train, but hey he’s hot as fuck so you say okay and you just kind of deal with him using you as a small stuffed animal.

Just because you’re so small to them, that doesn’t mean that you will manage to get away from their affections. They’ll give you just as much as the rest, even if it’s a bit difficult for them.

Wrench

Surprised at herself that she fell for a human, then again the way you work makes her kind of just stare longingly. She is surprised and then notes she shouldn’t be surprised.

Either way would keep quiet about it for a very long time, after all Wrench doesn’t really know how to go about this. She doesn’t know if you’re into huge anthropomorphic trains. 

As well is not the person to ask you for things like that, because it’s none of her business and also there’s no way to subtly do that really. Eventually to ‘get rid of her feelings’ she decides to just throw it out.

And then you end up actually accepting her feelings??? Okay not what she was expecting, but she is certainly not complaining about it. It’s kind of a learning curve for her as she has no idea where to begin with a human.

But Wrench is notorious for being a fast learner. She does actually pick up normal nurse stuff as well so she can properly take care of you as well as the machines that she’s taught to care for.

Just like the rest, her first priority is your health and so by learning about the human body, she might not easily be able to patch you up since it would be like patching something up on a doll. She still manages to figure out how she can help you.

Killerwatt

Really confused. He’s already bad at feelings and now he has feelings for a human. Someone so squishy and… vulnerable. Nevermind he understands now, he just has this big feeling to protect you and he likes feeling useful, so it’s not that much of a surprise 

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself though. Should he confess? That just seems like a dumb idea, somehow. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he just doesn’t know what exactly to do.

I think he will not confess to you, I think you’re the one that has to take that initiative. Otherwise neither of you will most likely get together, but here you are pouring your feelings out to this giant security truck.

He is positively shocked that you would like him like that. Although it was welcome.

From then on he’s extremely protective over you. So just imagine someone trying to go up against you and then this giant anthropomorphic train just suddenly stands behind you, just towering over you and this person, shadowing the both of you.

You get insulted? Oh look a colossal is here to beat their ass. That’s crazy.

Obviously it isn't lethal in it, but he takes his job extremely seriously. It’s about you after all. It’s his entire world. 

Volta

She’s always found humans fascinating. They’ve made things like trains and machines with feelings like them and yet they are so…. dumb…? Is that the world for it?

Either way it’s not really a surprise that she takes interest in this human. After all it’s one of the experts on electric trains and they were charming, had an interesting personality as well as their interests. She couldn’t help herself, they had to get to know this caring human.

And to say it simply, she did. She got closer to you and fell for you hard.

He’s kind of annoyed just how easy you made it seem for someone like him to fall for someone, but he guesses he can’t fully complain as it was his own fault getting close to someone so attractive to him.

They’ll deny it for a while though, like a long while. Eventually they’ll realize that this crush isn’t easily shaken and since you’re a human and probably don't think of getting a crush on a train, he’ll just…. get rid of the feelings.

That’s when you actually decide to accept his feelings, which just makes her confused and look at you with a look of disbelief. 

Very quickly recovers though, because she scored you as a partner? Good enough for her. She hates feelings and crushes so the fact that’s at least over and can devote herself to you without it feeling weird somehow is perfect for her.

God she hates crushes, you’re hers now though <3 And you can’t do much to make her change her mind. 

Joule

Oh this girl would be so into this. Usually she goes for impressive big engines or people that have big personalities and stuff. Her go to in types are usually big and loud or something similar.

That is unless she gets to know someone and even though they’re quiet they’re impressive. And then she meets you and you’re just… so small. Such a lil guy, hi there baby <3

Yeah she doesn’t take you seriously at first, like at all. You’re just so little, you might be good at what you do and she won’t minimize that, but you’re just a little squish, what are you going to do if a big bad engine gets angry once?

And then she once sees you practically wrangle Electra to the mechanic table when they’re once having a temper tantrum with like a lasso almost, just full cowboy style and she- ehm immediately falls in love? Yea.

She falls kind of really hard. Such a small little thing and yet so much spice and strength in a way. Maybe with the help of machines sure, but you are strong. It makes her gush and all.

Unlike the rest though this girl is extremely impulsive and would just almost immediately confess to you, telling you her feelings and not giving a shit if anyone looks weird about it.

Absolutely overjoyed when you say yes and absolutely loves giving you affection even if she has to be reminded to be careful with you sometimes.

Also I hope you’re ready constantly being carried either on her shoulder or in between her tits. That shit is comfortable, it's like a big pillow. Also yall know that sound of “What’s in your pocket?” “Oh it’s Jake :)” that’s you and Joule 

Null

Honestly I feel Null would be one of the ones that would be actually kind of shamelessly flirting with you. He really doesn’t give a shit if you’re a human, train or plane for what he gives a shit about. 

She’s interested in you and so she’s going to show it, no matter how small you are in comparison, if anything it makes it better for her. Honestly just imagine her laying on her stomach with her legs kicking behind her with a smirk as she listens to you prattle on about your knowledge on certain things.

Honestly you learn to love their company and grow to crave it whenever they’re gone. Eventually the two of you are together and it kind of slips from his lips. They almost immediately slap a hand over their mouth and start rattling off to save themself, but it was too late.

With a dazzling smile you accepted their feelings and the two of you started dating.

Don’t think that just because you’re a human that they will expect any less attention and affection from you than normal. Oh no he’s going to want all of it like always, no matter how busy you are with work.

At least he’s somewhat of a nice distraction sometimes and hey look at the bright side sometimes he actually shuts up while you do your work! It’s a miracle and a blessing all in one :D 

Krupp

Would actually be so terrified that he’ll accidentally kill you.

Like he gets a crush on you rather easily and then the moment it sinks in he just pushes it far far faaaar away where you’ll never be able to see it again, because if you two are in a relationship he could misstep and it’d be the end of you. 

It wouldn’t be that easy to do it, but he has a danger-ridden mind. Everything that is too much of a certain percentage of danger he won’t allow, he’s an armaments truck after all.

After a bit of coaxing from the others though, he manages to actually confess to you. It’s super stiff and still very unsure, but you welcome him with open arms. 

Honestly in the beginning to make him comfortable about it, you jokingly started wearing a cat bell on your belt or on a choker, so he can hear you coming and be cautious. Ironically this helped a lot to lessen his worries.

As well as everytime he now hears the little ring of bells he’ll get super excited and happy as he thinks of you or that you’re near. The rest have teased him endlessly when they see the demeanor change when they’re out and it was some other set of little bells.

You don’t see it easily, but he’s super in love with you and will absolutely protect you till the end. Also I just imagine you sometimes hiding under his hat to do some work or hide from coworkers. I think it’s super cute :] 

Purse

Would be under the firm belief that even though he has a huge crush he’ll never admit it to you. That it will never work out, he’s a train, you’re a human, blah blah blah. Just think of every possible excuse you can think of for this and he’ll use it. 

Although he does like the fact that he’s bigger. It’s rather funny bc in my head this dumbass sounds like Veneer and so I imagine him doing the whole “I don’t want to kill the little guy.” And so that cracks me up-

Moving on though- 

Is one of the most stubborn about not confessing. Honestly you would have to do it and then like assure you want him about 50 more times, because yes you know that he’s a large anthro train, but you don’t care he’s fucking hot. 

Eventually gives it a try and realizes just how much he doesn’t mind the difference. Sure it’s a bit of a learning curve, but it’s almost as if two people from different cultures meet each other. 

He teaches you about the races they do and what’s often seen as normal in train culture and you share your own culture’s rules that you practically abide by or don’t in that regard.

I feel like he’d just be a good learner when it comes to that, but all in all will absolutely love you no matter if you’re a small human and barely come to his lower calf properly 

[stevishabitat]

21 DOGE staffers resign, saying they won't help 'dismantle' public services : NPR

A group of 21 career civil servants whose team was folded into Elon Musk's Department of Government Efficiency resigned on Tuesday, writing in a joint letter posted publicly that they refuse to use their skills to put Americans' data at risk and "dismantle critical public services."

The federal workers, mostly software engineers and product managers, were once part of the U.S. Digital Service, which was renamed DOGE when Musk launched his initiative from within the White House. The Musk-led unit has laid off thousands of workers and moved to dismantle entire agencies in a slash-and-burn campaign to reduce the size of government.

In the letter addressed to White House Chief of Staff Susan Wiles, the government employees wrote that they swore an oath to the Constitution to serve the American people but that "it has become clear that we can no longer honor those commitments at the United States DOGE Service."

White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt responded to the 21 DOGE workers resigning en masse, in a statement: "Don't let the door kick you on the way out," she said.

The letter was first reported by the Associated Press.

President Trump delivers remarks during a joint news conference in the East Room at the White House on February 24.

Politics

Federal agencies still can't agree on 'What did you do last week?' email

The departure of the 21 career staffers comes as Musk's DOGE workers spread across vast parts of the federal government and gain access to key data systems in an effort to dig into sensitive federal data and "delete entire agencies," as Musk has put it.

Over the weekend, Musk prompted widespread confusion after millions of government workers received an email from the Office of Personnel Management asking them to account for what they did in the past week in the form of five bullet points. Musk indicated on X, the social media site he owns, that not responding could result in job loss.

The OPM message led to panic and chaos, as federal agencies gave conflicting advice about whether or not employees should respond. There is pending litigation about whether Musk, as a senior adviser to the president, has the legal authority to make decisions himself.

In their Tuesday letter, the DOGE employees noted that about 40 staffers in the office were laid off last week. They had been working on improving the technical systems behind Social Security, veterans' services, disaster relief and other government functions.

President Trump speaks to journalists as he signs an executive order regarding Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), in the Oval Office of the White House on Jan. 20.

Politics

With a new home for DOGE in the White House, here's what you need to know

"Their removal endangers millions of Americans who rely on these services every day. The sudden loss of their technology expertise makes critical systems and Americans' data less safe," the resigning employees, who did not list their names, wrote in the letter to Wiles.

Among the 40 who were terminated earlier this month was Jonathan Kamens, a DOGE engineer who said he believes he was targeted for publicly endorsing Kamala Harris for president.

"The U.S. Digital Service spent more than a decade making government better to serve normal, everyday people," Kamens told NPR. "Elon Musk doesn't care about any of that. All he cares about is seizing power and making his obscene fortune even larger."

Musk did not return NPR's request for comment.

On Jan. 21, according to the letter, Musk's lieutenants, some wearing White House visitor badges, refused to identify themselves and asked the staffers questions about their political loyalties and technical skills. "This process created significant security risks," the group wrote in the letter.

[polizwrites]

Feathers of a Phoenix

This is a fill for today’s  @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt  [#FFF297 Like a Weed], as well as my @fandom-free-bingo  February bingo square:  A3 - Solarpunk AU.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: None  (Tony Stark POV)  Rating: General Tags: No Powers AU,  Solarpunk AU, building community, self-reflection, interior dialogue Summary:  Tony finds himself helping to build a new community with different ideals than the ones he grew up with.   Word Count: 332

It started slowly, this new community.  It had to be slow, with so few people understanding their approach toward this old-but-new way of living or being willing to put in the work.   But one by one, or in small groups, others joined them and their community started to grow, much like what his former self would have called weeds, but he now recognized as a valuable part of the ecosystem.  

Tony still put his engineering skills to good use:  working with wood and stone as much as steel and plastic, the new challenges that material afforded were ones he was happy to face.  The solar panels were a clear exception to their low-tech way of life, but no-one complained.  Steve and Bucky took on many of the menial tasks, including the physical maintenance of  the panels;  Tony suspected they were former soldiers whose guilt weighed heavily on them.   

He could sympathize; after all he’d had a hand in creating the weapons that had caused so much destruction once they’d gotten in the wrong hands.   Thankfully, in this new world they were creating, who you had been meant little; as long as you contributed what you could, when you could, you were a valued member.  

For example, Stephen’s hands had been badly damaged in an accident he refused to speak of but his quick response and medical expertise  had saved Bucky’s life (if not his arm) while they waited for rescue.    Clint had been invaluable in helping figure out the best crops to pursue; his deafness proved no handicap once they all learned sign language.    

Tony thought back to the movies of his youth that warned of an apocalyptic future that featured armed mobs roaming the countryside, looting and pillaging wherever they could. Such a pessimistic outlook on humanity.  He preferred this new world, where there was cooperation and optimism - the belief that each day, things were getting a little bit better, as long as everyone worked toward that goal.  And they were. 

[iniziare]

🔥 well, here it is

On the topic of (many) women writing female characters: how many times do you need to see the trope of 'strong, and independent woman' absolutely plummet at full speed through a multi-story (and no less than 163 stories please; and yes, I double checke how many stories the Burj Khalifa has) building and hit the floor at maximum impact, before you realize that people are absolutely sick and tired of your impossibly perfect female OC whose sole flaw is that she 'cares too much', despite not being gentle because that's apparently also not empowering enough? I think I'm going to light peoples' blogs on fire at this rate because it annoys me to the damn core. And no, I wouldn't want to see whatever equivalent of that for a male character either, it's incredibly boring, and intensely frustrating to write with to a point where I'll dodge you like I have a food allergy, and you'll kill me if I risk even inhaling you for even 0.01 seconds. But somehow, some way, this is a trope that exists infinitely more frequently for female characters, than it does for males. Why? Is it overcompensating? Is it flipping the wheel of oppression, instead of breaking it, because then no one can play any more pity cards? Ah, I digress.

But seriously, my god, there is nothing more frustrating than reading how all of them can so easily step on my muses, read their minds, or charm them into their graves, or have picnics with the creator of the universe because they're besties— oh wait, no, sorry, I got that wrong, they're not peers, what am I saying, the female OC obviously surpasses god, my bad, yep. No, get out. I don't want them. And again, it's not out of misogyny, it's simply because it's boring, and it would be boring if it was a male character as well. Here, an example: I don't dislike Himeko because she's a talented woman, I don't dislike Himeko because she is a woman, I dislike Himeko because she has no obvious flaws thus far, and is insanely amazing at everything that she does, from excelling in combat, to being a wonder child of an engineer who repaired the Astral Express, to perfectly possessing the art of negotiation as well as Jade, who is a woman whose area of expertise lies in said field and is very reputed for her skill in it. And yet, dun dun dun, Himeko surprised even Jade at the end of Penacony. How is someone like her automatically measuring up to—? Also, see!! I like female characters (as if I don't write almost only female muses myself, you know): I love Jade.

Any way, not only all of that, but I also hate this half-expectation that every mun should love them, and every muse should fall in love with them, and if you don't— you must just hate women, I guess. Man, Aven, I guess our het ships are all a lie. The cake is a lie, hell, pretty much my entire roster is a lie. I'm a sham. /Scarlett O'Hara dramatic sigh. I hate you, Rhett Butler (okay, but he was attractive, jesus). Any way, I'm fine, don't judge me.

Prompt: 🔥for an unpopular opinion. // @avaere // Selectively accepting