#and then electrical engineering brain exploded

[chai-en-kaadhale]

if they could make computers with hextech i think they'd forgo the standard 0 and 1 binary for uhh 0123456789... oh and fuck it lets throw in ABCDE and F too

like yk

hexadecimal

(badumtss)

[helvegen-s]

a calculated risk

an Oscar Piastri one-shot

Summary: Oscar Piastri's disciplined world spins off-axis when he meets Elena Sainz. The catch? She's Carlos Sainz's sister. Their intense connection sparks a forbidden romance, pushing them into a reckless game of secrecy and desire. When the truth explodes, will their love survive the fallout?

Word count: 12k (i tried, i really tried to make it shorter...)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol

A/N: what. the fuck. was. today's race. do not talk to me about it, do not mention it. this year's season starts the 23rd of march in china. australia never happened.

masterlist

Oscar Piastri had learned to tune out the noise.

The Formula 1 paddock was controlled chaos, a symphony of roaring engines, overlapping conversations, and orders shouted through radios. But none of it fazed him. He moved through the garages and meetings with the same methodical calm he carried into every corner on track. His world was simple: improve, win, move forward.

And then she arrived.

Elena Sainz stepped into the paddock at the start of the 2024 season as if she had always belonged there—walking with quiet confidence, wearing a look he knew all too well. Because it was the same one Carlos gave him just before a race. He had seen her before, of course. There were photos of her on Sainz’s social media, Instagram stories of them cycling, on a yacht, at the family estate. But until that moment, he had never really paid attention.

The problem was, now he couldn’t stop.

The first time he saw her in her new role was at the pre-season press conference in Bahrain. She stood beside Carlos, wearing a striking red Ferrari dress, arms crossed, expression neutral as she listened to reporters fire off their questions. She didn’t force a smile, didn’t try to seem approachable. She was just there—assessing, calculating. Watching them all. Watching him.

Oscar kept his composure, as always. But when their eyes met, a sharp jolt of electricity ran down his spine.

Later, he made the comment without thinking too much about it.

"Since when do you have a personal assistant?"

Carlos, scrolling through something on his phone, didn’t even look up.

"She’s not my assistant."

"Oh, right, my bad." Oscar rolled his eyes with exaggerated dramatics. "What’s the correct term now? Trusted advisor?"

"Manager."

The voice wasn’t Carlos’.

Oscar turned just in time to see her approaching at a measured pace. Elena Sainz stopped beside them, offering him a half-smile that was anything but friendly.

"Elena Sainz, by the way." She extended her hand effortlessly. "But if you need to call me something else, I can give you a few suggestions."

It took Oscar a second to react before he shook her hand. Her skin was cold from the water bottle she held in the other, but her grip was firm. Confident. Irritatingly confident.

"How generous."

"They say it’s one of my best qualities." Elena tilted her head slightly, her expression composed but with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "That, and my ability to stay one step ahead."

Carlos clicked his tongue, clearly entertained.

"Give it a month, Piastri. Once you see how she works, you’ll be terrified."

"Oh, I already know." Oscar let go of Elena’s hand with practiced ease, as if he had felt absolutely nothing. As if his brain wasn’t still processing the intensity of her gaze. "I’m just surprised she didn’t put ‘master strategist’ on her business card."

Elena leaned against the table and shrugged.

"I figured ‘Carlos Sainz’s manager’ was enough to make it clear what I’m made of."

Oscar held her gaze a second longer than he should have.

Carlos cleared his throat.

"Alright, children. I’d rather not have my own manager fired on her first day."

Elena let out a quiet laugh before straightening up.

"Don’t worry, Carlos. I can handle it."

She met Oscar’s eyes once more before turning away, walking off with the same confidence she had arrived with.

Oscar exhaled through his nose and looked back at Carlos.

"I don’t like her."

Carlos smirked over the rim of his water bottle.

"Sure you don’t."

Oscar took a slow sip of his own drink, watching Elena’s figure on the other side of the room.

The problem was, he also couldn’t stop looking at her.

Oscar thought it would pass.

That the irritation Elena Sainz stirred in him would fade with time, like the foam on a beer after a toast. That her presence in the paddock would blend into the background, just another familiar face in a sea of them.

He was wrong.

Elena wasn’t like the other newcomers to Formula 1—the ones who arrived tentatively, trying to fit into the finely tuned machinery of a team. No. She was already fitted in. She already belonged.

The worst part was, she knew it.

Oscar saw it in the way she moved through the Ferrari garage, in how effortlessly she spoke to engineers, mechanics, and executives. In how Carlos barely had to glance at her for her to know exactly what he needed.

But most of all, he saw it in the way she looked at him.

It was a game. And he wasn’t sure when, exactly, it had started.

Maybe it was in Jeddah, when they crossed paths in a narrow hallway and she slipped past him with a barely audible whisper:

"Do you always walk that stiffly, or is it just when I’m around?"

Or in Melbourne, when he passed by the hospitality area and saw her leaning against a railing, sipping coffee with infuriating ease. When their eyes met, she raised an eyebrow and mused, just loud enough over the ambient noise:

"You don’t seem like a coffee person. I’d say hot chocolate. With marshmallows, maybe?"

Oscar frowned, not understanding why that threw him off so much.

Or perhaps it was in Japan, at one of those post-race parties where the noise and lights made everything feel a little more unreal. She was on the other side of the room, laughing at something someone had said, and then—without warning—she looked right at him. Champagne glass in hand, wearing that enigmatic half-smile that made him want to cut through the crowd just to see if, up close, she would smile at him the same way.

It was subtle. Insidious.

And Oscar was losing.

Because for every comment she made, he had a response ready on the tip of his tongue. Because every time she looked at him with that glint of mischief, he found himself searching for her in a room, waiting to see how long it would take for her to provoke him again.

Because, no matter how much he denied it, he loved the damn game.

Then came China.

It was no secret that Ferrari and McLaren were locked in a tight battle in the championship. Carlos, Leclerc, and Lando were fighting for points race after race, and Oscar, of course, was right in the middle of it all.

The weekend had been tense. During the press conference, Oscar tossed a casual remark at Carlos as they settled into their seats.

"Careful tomorrow, Sainz. I’d hate to see you in a wall just for the sake of tradition."

Carlos rolled his eyes, but it was the quiet laugh to his right that really caught his attention.

Elena stood with her arms crossed, expression neutral but with that glint in her eyes. As Oscar walked past her after the interviews, she glanced sideways at him.

Elena tilted her head, somewhere between amused and analytical.

"Interesting. I wonder if your confidence is real, or if you’re just used to faking it."

Oscar didn’t blink.

"I wonder the same about you."

Elena smiled, making no effort to deny anything.

"I suppose we’ll both find out."

Oscar held her gaze a moment longer before letting out a quiet laugh.

"I hope you won’t be disappointed by mine."

"I hope the same." She shrugged before turning on her heel. "Though, if I am… I’ll be sure to let you know."

And with that, she walked away.

Oscar exhaled, realizing too late that he had been holding his breath.

He was definitely losing.

This year, Miami had a different kind of energy.

Maybe it was the atmosphere—the sticky heat creeping under clothes, the constant mix of music and engines in the air. Maybe it was the tension in the championship, the ever-tightening battle, the sense that every race mattered more than the last.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was her.

Elena had been at every Grand Prix since the season started. But this weekend, for some reason, her presence felt heavier.

And then came Saturday night.

And the elevator.

The entire hotel was asleep.

Miami was a city of excess, of bright lights and incessant noise, but at that moment, inside the luxury skyscraper, everything was calm.

The only signs of life were a couple of employees walking silently down the hallways, and the two of them, waiting for the elevator in the lobby.

Oscar couldn't sleep. He had spent the last hour wandering around the hotel, without any particular destination, hoping that fatigue would hit him suddenly and send him to bed. It didn't work.

Elena, on the other hand, had just closed her laptop after losing track of time at the bar, going over a couple of public relations matters for Carlos. The glass of wine she’d been sipping on was still evident in the slight flush on her cheeks and the languid way she held her purse.

Neither of them said anything when they saw each other.

The tension from the past few weeks still hung in the air, like a storm that never quite broke. Oscar gave her a brief nod, and she did the same, but the silence between them felt heavier than usual.

The elevator was taking too long.

Oscar couldn’t help but glance sideways at Elena, noticing the subtle movement of her fingers on the strap of her purse. Impatient.

“Working late?” he finally asked, his voice low, just to fill the void.

She turned her head slightly, sizing him up before responding.

“Not everyone has the luxury of walking around the hotel when they can’t sleep.”

Oscar gave a wry smile.

“Yeah, well. Not everyone has the need to manage their brother’s public image every weekend.”

Elena squinted at him.

“It’s an easier job than you think.”

“Of course. Carlos never says anything out of line, never stirs controversy, never gets into trouble.”

“Exactly.”

Oscar let out a brief laugh through his nose, but the sound quickly died when the elevator finally arrived, its doors opening with a soft “ding.”

They stepped inside together.

The doors closed. The elevator shut with a soft click and began to move as normal.

Oscar leaned his back against the padded wall and let his head fall back, exhaling slowly. Elena did the same in front of him, though with more grace. She held her purse with both hands in front of her, as if she needed something to hold onto.

The silence was so thick that the faint hum of the elevator’s motor seemed deafening.

Oscar felt the weight of the day accumulating on his shoulders, in his breathing. He wasn’t sure why insomnia was worse tonight, why his body refused to rest. Or rather, he knew why, but he wasn’t in the mood to admit it. Not when the reason was standing right in front of him.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped abruptly.

There was no jolt, no harsh shake, just a sharp stop, accompanied by a momentary blackout in the control buttons.

 Elena straightened immediately.

“What the hell...?”

Oscar looked at the panel, hoping the light for the floor they were heading to would turn back on. It didn’t.

He didn’t feel the elevator moving again either.

Elena pressed a button. Then another. Then several, more insistently.

Nothing.

She turned her head toward Oscar, and he could see the exact moment she realized the situation.

“No.” She shook her head, almost as if she could reverse it. “No way.”

Oscar blinked slowly.

“I think we’re stuck.”

Elena closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.

“No shit, Sherlock. How did you deduce that?”

He smiled because it came naturally, because there was something almost amusing about seeing her flustered.

“Calm down. It won’t be for long.”

Elena didn’t respond. She just pressed her lips together in a tense line and went back to pressing the buttons, as if the elevator would give in to her persistence.

The panel didn’t even beep.

She sighed and pressed the emergency button.

The speaker crackled with static before a sleepy voice responded:

“Yes?”

Elena leaned toward the microphone urgently.

“We’re stuck in the elevator.”

There was a pause. Then, a yawn.

“Oh. Okay.”

Elena frowned.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. It’s probably a temporary glitch. These things happen when the system resets in the early hours.”

Oscar and Elena exchanged a look.

“How long until it works again?” Oscar asked.

“Mmm… a few minutes. Half an hour at most.”

Elena threw her head back and closed her eyes, as if she needed all the patience in the world not to explode.

“Great.”

The intercom voice came through again.

“If it still doesn’t respond in a while, we’ll call maintenance. Don’t worry.”

There was a click, and then, just silence.

Oscar watched Elena cautiously, waiting for her reaction.

She looked back at him.

Then, she exhaled a long sigh before slowly sliding down the wall of the elevator until she was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed and her head resting against the padded panel.

Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Giving up that easily?”

“No. I’m just adapting.”

Oscar watched her for a second longer, then shrugged and did the same.

It didn’t make sense to stay standing, after all.

The elevator was dim, lit only by the faint emergency light. It was late. Almost no one was awake in the hotel. There was no sound beyond the static hum of the machinery and their own breathing. The air was thick, charged with something neither of them knew how to handle.

Elena pulled out her phone, checking it out of habit, though she didn’t expect to find anything.

"No signal." Her voice was low, almost as if she didn’t want to break the silence between them.

"Perfect. Now you have no excuse to be watching nonsense on TikTok."

Elena narrowed her eyes, smiling faintly, but the mockery in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

"And what are you going to do? Philosophize about life in the dark?"

Oscar looked at her, clearly amused. The sarcasm in her voice had vanished, replaced by something... closer. Something more intense.

"Maybe." He replied, still holding onto his attitude. But that spark of playfulness was there, a touch of complicity that was growing stronger, more palpable.

Elena didn’t say anything else. She remained silent for a few seconds, fiddling with her phone in her hands while the elevator stayed still.

Oscar watched how the soft light reflected on her face. Every small movement she made was a reminder of how close she was to him, of how their bodies seemed to be drawing closer without either of them planning it. It was hard not to notice how the proximity between them was increasing, how the electricity between their skins seemed to grow more intense with every passing second.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"You’ve never been very subtle, have you, Piastri?"

He smiled, but the smile wasn’t mocking. It was different, like he was recognizing her in some way.

"I don’t like wasting time."

Elena looked at him with something more than amusement in her eyes, as though she was evaluating every word, every reaction. Her legs shifted slowly, and without thinking, she let her knee brush against his. A soft touch, almost imperceptible, but close enough for both of them to feel it.

Oscar swallowed, his chest tightening with that rapid heartbeat he couldn’t ignore. The tension between them was almost tangible, a weight neither of them could shake off.

She leaned slightly towards him, not breaking eye contact, and their voices softened further, becoming more intimate, more personal.

"You know," she said quietly. "I wonder how much longer you’re going to keep denying it."

Oscar didn’t answer.

Because he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Because he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel the raw energy between them, that insistent attraction that grew with every held glance, every accidental touch, every provocation disguised as indifference.

Because he knew she knew it too.

Elena raised an eyebrow, waiting. Challenging.

Oscar closed his eyes for a second.

He took a deep breath.

But when he opened them again, Elena was even closer.

He could see every detail of her face. He could count the centimeters between them. Every freckle that adorned her tan skin. He could hear her breath, feel her warm breath grazing his skin, the hint of wine lingering from the glass she must’ve had earlier at the hotel bar.

It was a trap. And he knew it.

But he didn’t move.

Because, damn it, he didn’t want to move.

Elena’s fingers grazed his forearm, just a touch, an experiment.

Oscar felt his skin light up instantly.

"This is a fucking terrible idea," he muttered.

"Yeah?" Elena tilted her head slightly, letting the tension pull them together like an invisible thread. "Then tell me you don’t want it."

Oscar didn’t answer.

Because he did want it.

He wanted it with an absurd intensity, with an urgency that had been consuming him from the moment he saw her in the paddock at the start of the season.

But he shouldn’t.

The elevator beeped and came to life with a jolt.

Oscar reacted immediately, like a spring releasing. He stood up quickly, not thinking. The muscles in his legs tensed, and his torso straightened abruptly. A rushed, almost desperate movement, as if escaping the situation was the only way out.

Elena stayed on the floor of the elevator, watching him with that half-mocking, half-challenging smile, not moving. The position she was in, her knees bent, her eyes fixed on him, gave her a sense of power and control that bordered on indecent. Every inch of her body seemed to dare him to give in.

Oscar tried to look away, but his eyes inevitably returned to her. He knew he should leave, that he shouldn’t give in to what he wanted, to what his body was asking for, but... Elena was there, so close, so willing, and he was about to lose it all.

With a sharp movement, he tried to step towards the exit, distancing himself from her, avoiding any contact. He shouldn’t look at her anymore, shouldn’t think about it anymore.

But the damage was done. His mind was filled with images of her, from the most innocent to the most lewd thing he could have ever imagined.

Oscar quickly turned, as if the mere act of looking at her one more second would lead him to ruin. He walked towards the elevator’s exit, his pace quickening, and once he crossed the threshold, he breathed deeply, as if trying to expel all the accumulated tension from his body.

Elena didn’t say anything. She made no move. She stayed there, on the floor of the elevator, watching him walk away with a barely visible smile on her lips.

Oscar took a few steps, stopping at the end of the hallway before turning back, looking at her again, feeling the magnetism drawing him toward her. His body was begging to return, begging for more. But he stood firm.

In the end, he didn’t turn back.

But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

By the time Oscar reached his room, he felt like he was about to throw up everything he had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. What had just happened? Had he just dreamed all that?

He collapsed onto the bed, his mind spinning while the darkness of the room enveloped him. Tomorrow he had a race, but in that moment, all he could think about was Elena. That damn kiss. What had just happened, and what he still didn’t understand.

The clock read three in the morning. His eyes were heavy, but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the bed, uncomfortable. The heat was still there, weighing on his chest, and the memory of her lewd smile wouldn’t leave him alone.

Suddenly, the sound of a knock on the door made him jump. Oscar frowned. Who the hell was knocking at this hour?

He sprang up and approached the door still drowsy, scratching his head, and opened it almost without thinking.

And there she was.

Elena.

Her slender, defined figure stood in the doorway, the hallway light partially illuminating her face, which held a serious expression but with that playful spark in her eyes.

"Am I interrupting?" she said, her tone both cheeky and innocent at the same time.

Oscar stood frozen for a moment, speechless. He couldn’t believe it.

"What are you doing here? How the hell do you know what room I’m in?" he asked, the exhaustion in his voice mixed with a clear sense of bewilderment.

"I speak five languages and I have charisma," she replied, leaning against the door.

Oscar should make a sarcastic comment, something sharp to break the tension, but he can't. Not when he still feels the ghost of her breath trapped between them in that elevator, the images he has tried to push deep into his mind now resurfacing at the worst possible moment.

Elena doesn't say anything. She just looks at him.

Oscar feels the weight of her gaze on every nerve ending.

"Tell me this isn't a bad idea," she whispers, though her tone says she already knows the answer.

Oscar could say many things.

He could remind her who she is. He could tell her that they hate each other, that they don't get along, that they're incompatible. He could remind her who her brother is.

But she steps closer.

And Oscar feels like he's drowning.

It's slow. It's unbearably slow. The ground seems to tilt beneath him as Elena moves a little closer, with the same determination she uses to negotiate contracts and manipulate press conferences. And Oscar, for the first time, has nothing to say.

Because he wants this.

He wants it so much it hurts.

"Tell me to stop," she whispers, but they're already too close, and the air between them is suffocating, electric, sharp like a summer storm.

Oscar says nothing.

And then, finally, he kisses her.

It's soft at first, as if they're still testing the boundaries of something too big to contain. But Elena responds with the same repressed intensity, her nails sliding down his neck, a small gasp smothered against his lips, and then everything crashes, like a snowball tumbling down a cliff.

No more doubts.

No more lines.

Just them.

The room is too small for everything they're feeling.

Oscar pulls her against him with more force than he should. It's not sweet. It's not gentle. It's nothing like it should be. But Elena doesn't want that either. Her hands search for him with the same silent desperation, the same urgency of someone who's been holding back for too long.

Her jacket falls to the floor in one swift motion.

Oscar's hands trace her back, outline the curve of her waist, and when their lips part for just a second, just enough to take a breath, they look at each other like they've just jumped into the void.

No one says anything.

Because there's nothing to say.

Elena grabs his shirt tightly, as if holding onto something. As if she can pretend this isn't tearing everything apart.

And Oscar... Oscar feels like he can finally breathe.

Because this isn't a mistake.

It can't be. It can’t feel this good.

When he kisses her again, Elena moans against his mouth and he feels something inside him break.

And there's no going back.

Clothes disappear somewhere between their broken kisses and the clumsy steps toward the bed. There are no pauses, no space for thought. Only the sound of their ragged breaths and the weight of the inevitable.

Elena is fire in his hands, in his mouth, in the way she touches him like she's discovering something that's always been there, something she's denied for too long. And Oscar... Oscar surrenders.

There's no rivalry, no fear, no one else in the world but her.

When their bodies finally meet, it's a perfect mess. A mix of need and awkwardness, muffled moans and nails marking skin. There are no doubts, no barriers. Just them, consuming each other in the darkness of a hotel room in Miami, not thinking about tomorrow.

Because right now, nothing else matters.

Dawn finds them tangled in the sheets, breaths still ragged, skin warm from what they've just done. Neither of them speaks. There is no room for words in the aftermath they've just unleashed.

Oscar feels the weight of the silence between them, but it's not uncomfortable. Not yet. Elena lies next to him, her face turned toward the ceiling, her hair messy on the pillow. She seems lost in her thoughts, but when Oscar moves his hand, barely grazing her arm, she doesn't pull away.

They shouldn't be here.

They shouldn't have crossed that line.

But they have. And the worst part is that instead of regretting it, Oscar only thinks about doing it again.

"Let's not talk about this, okay?" Elena says, finally breaking the silence.

Her voice is soft, measured, as if she’s testing the waters.

Oscar glances at her out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to say anything that will shatter this moment, make it more real than it already is.

"I don’t see what there is to say," he replies, because it’s the truth.

Elena lets out a low, almost ironic laugh and turns toward him, resting her head on her hand. Her eyes scan him with that intensity that drives him crazy, the kind that turns him into a damn fool every time he runs into her in the paddock.

"This doesn’t change anything," she says, with a certainty Oscar doesn’t know whether to envy or fear.

And maybe he should agree. Maybe he should nod, pretend that this was just a bad idea, a momentary mistake they can laugh off later.

But when Elena leans in and gently bites his lower lip before pulling away with a smile that’s pure poison, Oscar knows he’s screwed.

Because this changes everything.

The next morning, Oscar wakes up with the feeling that it was all a dream.

But the lingering warmth on his skin and the slight pressure of the mattress beside him tell him otherwise.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog of sleep, and the first thing he sees is Elena’s profile, sitting on the edge of the bed, adjusting the cuff of her blouse. Her hair is still tangled, her neck bearing traces of his mouth, and the sunlight of Miami filters its golden light through the curtains, making her look almost unreal.

She’s fucking beautiful.

And she’s also Carlos Sainz’ sister.

Oscar closes his eyes and curses under his breath.

He feels like he should say something, but his mind is still caught in the image of the night before. How Elena had surrendered to him with the same ferocity with which she looks at him in the paddock. How the tension that had been choking them both for months finally erupted into something neither of them could control.

And now, she’s there. Getting dressed. Preparing to leave.

As if nothing had happened.

As if they hadn’t spent the night devouring each other.

"So, not even a 'good morning' after everything we did last night?" he says, his voice still a little rough from sleep.

Elena doesn't even bother to turn around, though he notices the brief pause in her movements before she slips on her heels.

"Why drag out the inevitable?" she replies, shrugging.

Oscar lets out a low, incredulous laugh.

"The inevitable?"

"That we'll go on with our lives as if this never happened." She finally turns, resting a hand on her hip with that air of superiority that drives him crazy. "I know you can do it, Piastri. If you can keep a poker face after Lando closes you out on track, this shouldn't be a problem."

Oscar watches her closely, looking for any hint of doubt in her expression. He doesn't find any.

"Wow, what an elegant way to say it was a mistake."

Elena gives him a half-smile, as sharp as ever.

"I didn't say it was a mistake. I just said it’s not going to happen again."

Oscar narrows his eyes.

"So this is how we're going to play it?"

"This is how we're going to play it," she replies, with a certainty he knows is just a façade.

Oscar exhales and falls back onto the pillow, running a hand over his face.

"Well, I guess it was a pleasure doing business with you, Sainz."

Elena laughs softly, and that frustrates him more because it sounds genuinely amused, like this is just a simple game she has full control over.

"Take care, Piastri," she says finally, before turning and walking out of the room.

Oscar stares at the ceiling, feeling the echo of her perfume in the air.

Of course. Because this is perfectly normal.

Because he's definitely not about to lose his mind.

And because, evidently, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Oscar should have known that "it’s not going to happen again" was the biggest lie of the century.

Because it happens again.

And again.

And again.

In hidden rooms in the paddock, in hotels around the world, in deserted elevators and offices with the door slightly ajar. In any corner where there’s enough shadow for no one to see them, and just enough risk to make their hearts pound in their chests.

The first time he breaks his supposed resolution is at the next Grand Prix, in Ferrari’s hospitality entrance.

Elena is standing with her arms crossed, arguing with Carlos about something related to his race strategy. She’s wearing a fitted black dress with a blazer on top, and Oscar is trying to concentrate on his coffee when she gives him a fleeting glance, barely a second of eye contact that shouldn’t mean anything.

But his spine stiffens instantly.

And when she disappears down the back hall, he knows he’s going to follow her before he even thinks about it.

"I don’t even know why I bother pretending to be strong with you," he murmurs, closing the door behind him just a second before Elena pushes him against the wall and kisses him with a ferocity that leaves him breathless.

"Because you’re proud, Piastri." Her smile is lethal against his lips.

"And you’re a liar," he replies, sliding his hands under her blazer and pressing her against him.

"Yeah?"

"'It’s not going to happen again,'" he mocks, exaggerating her tone.

Elena laughs against his skin, right on the line of his jaw, before whispering in his ear:

"Well, sometimes I say things I don’t mean."

And Oscar, of course, is completely screwed.

After that, things escalate as fast as a Formula 1 car on a straight.

The hotel elevator in Monaco, where they barely manage to pull apart in time when the door opens into the lobby.

The engineers’ room in Canada, where he almost kisses her right next to the menu mural, and she laughs in his face when he stops at the last second.

The back corridor of the paddock in Spain, where he slides his hand across her backside when no one’s looking, and she spends the rest of the day with her skin burning.

"This is a really bad idea," Oscar says that same afternoon, just before he pushes her against the wall of his hotel room and kisses her like his life depends on it.

"A horrible idea," Elena agrees, between gasps.

"We can’t keep doing this."

"Never again."

"Last time."

"Last time," she repeats, her fingers tangled in his hair.

Obviously, they’re doomed.

The problem with saying "last time" is that they never follow through.

Oscar should be worried. Not just because this is getting out of control, but because it’s becoming more reckless with each time. At least in the beginning, they tried to keep it professional during the day and only let themselves go in the privacy of a hotel room at midnight. But now...

Now Elena holds his gaze a little too long in meetings. Now they cross paths in the paddock, and she brushes her fingers against his arm as she passes. Now he sees her sitting next to Carlos in Ferrari’s hospitality, and all he can think about is the way she moaned his name the night before.

It’s a miracle no one has discovered them.

"You’re playing with fire," Lando tells him in Silverstone, after catching Oscar looking toward Elena for the fifth time in half an hour.

Oscar feigns ignorance.

"Sorry?"

"I don’t know what’s going on there, but whatever it is, Carlos is going to kill you."

Oscar scoffs, but something inside him tightens.

Because that’s the other thing: the risk. Not just for his career, not just because if anyone at McLaren finds out, it could be a scandal, but because Carlos Sainz still sees him as a rival, and if he finds out that Oscar is tangled up with his sister, he’ll probably strangle him with his bare hands.

But it’s hard to care about that when she keeps sneaking into his hotel room at midnight.

When she keeps leaving marks on his skin that he has to hide before he puts on his racing suit.

When she smiles at him from across the paddock with that damn expression of "I know exactly what you’re thinking," and Oscar has to bite his tongue to keep from dragging her somewhere private.

It’s not just attraction. It’s something worse.

And the bomb finally explodes in Hungary.

The Hungarian GP should be the best day of his life.

He should be celebrating his first Formula 1 victory, savoring the champagne on the podium, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

But it’s all overshadowed by the controversy, by McLaren’s terrible strategy.

Oscar shouldn’t feel guilty for winning, but he does.

People are hugging him, patting him on the back, congratulating him like nothing happened. Lando is professional in front of the cameras, but in the garage, his expression is tense. He wanted that win. He deserved it. But the strategy benefited Oscar, and now it’s impossible to enjoy it.

He hasn’t seen Elena since he stepped off the podium.

Maybe he should be glad about that. After all, this is what they had agreed on: a game with no feelings, no strings attached, no complications.

When he arrives at the hotel, his room is completely dark.

Oscar closes the door behind him and stands in the middle of the room, not turning on the light, not moving.

He doesn't know what to do with himself.

He should be happy. Euphoric. Victorious. But all that’s in his chest is an indescribable weight, something that suffocates him, that tangles his thoughts until he doesn't know what to feel.

He clenches his fists. The adrenaline of the day still pulses in his veins, mixed with exhaustion and frustration. He shouldn't feel this way. Not after winning.

The door opens again.

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know it’s her.

Elena enters silently, not turning on the light, saying nothing. She just closes the door and walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge with the same ease with which she’s been invading his life from the start.

Oscar exhales a trembling sigh.

He doesn’t know what pushes him to move, but suddenly his legs give away and he falls to his knees in front of her, his head bowed, his arms powerless at his sides.

And then, he’s resting his forehead on her lap.

Elena doesn’t say anything.

She just runs a hand through his hair with a softness that disarms him.

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut. And he doesn’t know why, but he's crying.

Tears fall without permission, without control, without him being able to stop them.

He doesn’t sob, he doesn’t shake, he doesn’t make any noise. He just feels the heat on his cheeks, the pressure in his chest, his breath ragged.

Elena’s fingers continue in his hair, tracing slow lines, calming him without haste.

“You deserve this,” she whispers, so quietly it almost feels like a secret. “Don’t doubt for a second that this victory is yours. And no one else’s.”

Oscar closes his eyes.

He clings to those words.

To her.

Elena leans over him, her hand tangling in his hair with the same delicacy someone would use to pet a wounded animal.

Oscar feels her breath above his head, warm and steady.

“Look at me,” she says, but he can’t.

Not yet.

He stays there, with his forehead resting on her lap, his hands clenched on her pants, trying to contain something he doesn’t even understand.

“Oscar,” Elena repeats, softer this time, and runs her fingers down his neck. “You deserve this. No matter what anyone else says. No matter what anyone else thinks.”

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“They handed it to me,” he murmurs, his voice broken. “It’s not a real victory.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she cuts him off without hesitation, but her tone remains sweet, still Elena. “Of course it’s real. You were faster than everyone out there. You didn’t stop fighting. You didn’t stop proving you deserve every second of that podium.”

Oscar swallows hard.

“But Lando…”

“But Lando nothing,” she interrupts him. “You don’t owe anyone an apology. You don’t have to feel guilty for winning.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Oscar,” she insists, and this time she takes his face in her hands, forcing him to lift his head.

Their eyes meet in the dim light of the room.

“Don’t let anyone make you doubt what you are,” she says, and her voice is an anchor, it’s fire, it’s a reminder that she’s here, with him, holding him when he feels like everything else is falling apart. “Today, you won. And you did it.”

Oscar looks at her.

Something inside him breaks, but not in the way he’s felt broken all day.

It’s something else.

Something deeper. Something that scares him.

Because until now, it had been easy to convince himself that what he had with Elena was just physical. A game. Something neither of them would take too seriously.

But here she is, holding him, seeing him, telling him what he needs to hear at the exact moment he needs to hear it.

And Oscar knows he’s fucked.

Elena keeps holding his face, her touch firm and sure, as if with just her contact she could return the stability he feels crumbling inside him.

Oscar wants to speak. He wants to say something that will lighten the weight in his chest. But all he does is inhale, deeply and brokenly, clinging to the feeling of her hands on his skin.

“Breathe,” Elena tells him, with a sweetness that’s almost his undoing.

So, he does.

He forces himself to fill his lungs with air and let it out slowly, as if with every exhale, he could release the knot in his throat, the doubt, the resentment towards himself.

Elena slides her thumbs over his cheeks, with a tenderness that’s almost unfamiliar to him.

“That’s it,” she murmurs. “That’s better.”

Oscar closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, she’s still there, watching him with that intensity that always disarms him.

And it’s in that moment when he realizes.

How fucking easy it would be to fall in love with her.

Because if Elena can see him like this, completely undone, and still look at him like he’s the same confident and determined driver everyone thinks he is… what else is she seeing in him that he himself can’t even recognize?

The thought terrifies him. Terrifies him a lot.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do: he straightens up, pulls away, rebuilds the distance he’s been ignoring between them since this started.

Elena lets him do it, but her eyes follow him with a look of understanding that unsettles him.

The silence between them is thick, heavy with something Oscar can no longer ignore. He has pulled away, tried to regain his composure, but it’s useless. He can still feel her touch on his skin, still hear her voice in his head, still see those eyes piercing through him as if they had always known the exact point to strike to bring him down.

"This isn’t just physical, is it?" His own voice sounds foreign, low, and almost trembling. As if, by saying it out loud, he’s admitting to something far greater.

Elena doesn’t seem surprised. She doesn’t lower her gaze, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t back away. There’s no fear or uncertainty in her expression, only the same certainty that has driven him insane from the very start.

"It never was."

Oscar swallows hard, his chest rising and falling with something he can’t tell if it’s relief or terror. Or both at the same time.

"From the moment I saw you in the paddock," she continues, her voice calm, steady, "I knew I was going to fall for you. It was inevitable. And when you looked at me for the first time, I knew you were going to fall, too."

Oscar blinks, surprised by how easily she says it. As if it’s a simple truth, an undeniable fact. And maybe it was. Maybe this was never in his control.

Somehow, that makes him laugh. He drops his head, a rough, resigned chuckle escaping his lips, because of course Elena knew before he did. Of course she had already figured it out while he was busy pretending it wasn’t happening.

When he looks at her again, it’s with different eyes. With the eyes of someone who knows he’s lost, that there’s no turning back.

"You’re unbearable," he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face.

Elena smiles too. And Oscar knows, with terrifying certainty, that he’s screwed. Completely, irreversibly screwed.

Oscar still stands before her, in the dim light of the room. His hands, still clenched into fists, gradually relax. Elena remains seated at the edge of the bed, her posture at ease but her gaze intense, fixed on him, as if she already knows what he’s going to do before he does.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, his voice low, as if speaking in a space that belongs only to the two of them.

Elena leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. The soft light of the room traces the curve of her face, her collarbone, the golden sheen of her skin still warm from the Hungarian summer. Oscar swallows.

"We could keep pretending nothing’s happening," she suggests, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Oscar scoffs, glancing down at his own hands before refocusing on her. "Great idea. That’s worked brilliantly so far."

Elena lets out a soft laugh, a low sound that skims over his skin. Then, with the same tranquility as always, she straightens up and rests her hands on the mattress, tilting her head in thought.

"We keep it a secret a little longer," she finally says. "We explore… this."

Oscar frowns, his pulse still erratic from everything they’ve just admitted.

"This?"

"Whatever is happening between us," she explains, her hand making a subtle gesture between them. "No pressure, no expectations. Just… letting it grow."

Oscar feels his breathing deepen slightly, as if his body is trying to absorb the calm in Elena’s voice. He doesn’t know what he expected her to say, but now that he hears it, he realizes this is the only thing that makes sense.

"Improvising?" he asks, his tone lighter, though something still lingers in his chest.

Elena nods slowly. "Improvising."

Oscar sinks back onto his knees, closer this time, his hands resting on the edge of the mattress, just inches from hers. The room seems to shrink, narrowing down to the proximity of their bodies, to the warm, settled tension between them.

He looks at her and, instead of doubt, all he sees in her is certainty. As if she has known from the start that this was the only possible outcome.

"We’re screwed, aren’t we?" he murmurs, almost smiling.

Elena tilts her head, her fingers barely brushing against Oscar’s on the bed. A small, fleeting contact, but one that electrifies the space between them.

"Up to our necks."

Oscar exhales slowly and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as if he might find some kind of answer there. But there are no answers—only the undeniable reality that, for the first time, they are acknowledging what’s between them without pretending it doesn’t exist.

Elena shifts on the bed and pats the mattress beside her, a silent invitation. There’s no ulterior motive in the gesture, no expectation, and maybe that’s what makes Oscar surrender so easily. He lies down beside her, his head resting on the pillow, leaving a small space between them.

And for the first time since this began, there’s no urgency, no hands exploring skin, no breath-stealing kisses. They’re just there, sharing the same air, seeing each other without the barrier of immediate desire.

They talk.

At first, about absurd things. Silly habits, likes they’ve never admitted to each other. Elena sleeps with socks on, even in the summer, and Oscar looks at her in horror when she says it. He has a specific routine for putting on his gloves before getting in the car, and she laughs because her brother does the same.

Then come childhood stories, dreams they once had and those they still chase. Elena tells him she wanted to be an astronaut as a child but got too dizzy in space simulators. Oscar confesses he’s still not entirely used to fame, that sometimes he misses being anonymous.

As the night stretches on and the conversation slows, words tangling with sleepiness, Oscar turns on his side and watches her.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" he asks quietly.

Elena blinks slowly and smiles, with that air of confidence that undoes him.

"I knew the moment you saw me in the paddock."

Oscar scoffs, half amused, half resigned. "How convenient."

"Not my fault you’re so predictable."

Oscar laughs and covers his face with his hand for a moment before rolling onto his back again.

"I’m going to hate myself for saying this, but… I think I like that about you."

Elena glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her smile needing no words to be understood.

And just like that, without realizing it, they fall asleep.

The break doesn’t last long.

During the Belgian Grand Prix, everything appears to be the same: the same fleeting touches when no one is looking, the same encounters in empty hallways, the same tension whenever they’re too close. But now, there’s something more. Something in the way Oscar looks for her before getting into the car, in the way Elena lingers a second too long when fixing the collar of the shirt she so boldly ripped off his body just ten minutes ago. Something in the way their fingers brush when she hands him a bottle of water right after, in the way they look at each other when they think no one is watching.

And when Oscar crosses the finish line, knowing he’ll be on the podium again, his first instinct isn’t to celebrate—it’s to find her. Standing on the podium, adrenaline still rushing through his body and the trophy in his hand, his eyes scan the crowd until they lock onto Elena’s. And when she smiles at him, he feels like he could live in that moment forever.

That night at the hotel feels different again. Instead of immediately losing themselves in each other, they collapse onto the bed to watch the race replay. And when the camera shows Oscar on the podium, smiling with pure happiness, eyes bright and expression open, Elena can’t hold back. She lets out a laugh so loud it echoes through the room.

Oscar, confused, turns to her with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

Elena, trying to hold back her laughter, points at the screen. “Your lovesick puppy face.”

Oscar follows the direction of her finger, and then he sees it. Sees himself. And he can’t do anything but laugh, because it’s true. The camera caught the exact moment he found Elena in the crowd, and the expression on his face leaves no room for doubt.

“I do not have a lovesick puppy face,” he protests, but his own laughter betrays any attempt at indignation.

Elena turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oscar, darling. Let’s just pray no one else notices, because it would be hard to deny the accusations.”

And with that, they laugh until tears stream down their faces, until they’re breathless, until Oscar, with his head resting on Elena’s stomach, feels something dangerously close to the simplest, purest kind of happiness.

Because for the second time, they don’t need to hide in passion, in desire. For the second time, they enjoy each other’s company without sex getting in the way.

Just them.

Elena wakes up to the weight of an arm draped over her waist and the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the hotel window. She blinks, still caught between sleep and wakefulness, acutely aware of the warmth pressed against her back, of the slow, steady breath against her neck.

Oscar.

Recognition comes at the same time as reality—the grayish dawn light in Belgium, the distant hum of traffic, the calendar marking the end of a weekend that has changed everything.

And the certainty that in less than two hours, she’ll be on a plane back to Madrid.

She sighs, shifting slightly under Oscar’s arm. He grumbles in protest, tightening his hold on her, as if his subconscious understands what’s about to happen before he does.

“I have to go,” she whispers, though she doesn’t move.

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. His breath is heavy against her shoulder, still half-asleep, and when he finally mumbles something, his voice is rough.

“Five more minutes.”

Elena smiles softly, but she knows she can’t give in.

“Carlos is waiting for me downstairs. If I take too long, he’s coming up to get me.”

Oscar sighs and, at last, loosens his arm. When she turns to face him, she finds his face buried in the pillow, brows furrowed, hair a complete mess. He looks like a grumpy little kid refusing to start the day.

“Don’t make that face,” she teases, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes.

Oscar lifts his head just enough to squint at her.

“What face?”

“That one. The ‘I’m going to be a martyr because the girl I like is leaving me in a hotel’ face.”

He clicks his tongue and flops back onto the pillow with dramatic flair.

“Slander.”

Elena lets out a quiet laugh as she ties her laces. Then, unhurriedly, she leans toward him, pressing a hand into the mattress as her lips brush his cheek.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Oscar doesn’t reply right away. He just looks at her. But there’s something in his expression—in the way he watches her, in how his hand grips the edge of the sheet like he’s about to say something else—that makes her hesitate.

Because for the first time since this started, they realize they’ve never gone this long without seeing each other.

And they don’t know what that will feel like.

Elena should stand up and leave. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she lets her gaze trace over his face, memorizing every detail. Oscar looks back at her just as intently, and then, without thinking too much, she leans in and kisses him.

It’s brief, but not rushed. There’s no desperation, no urgency—just the certainty that she wants him. That even if they go in opposite directions, even if weeks pass without seeing each other, what they have won’t fade with distance.

When they pull apart, Oscar watches her with a mix of surprise and something else—something she doesn’t want to analyze too closely right now.

“That was unfair,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep.

Elena smiles.

“You’ll survive.”

And before he can argue, she gets to her feet, grabs her bag, and walks out the door.

It clicks shut.

And Oscar is alone.

For a few seconds, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling, the warmth of Elena’s kiss still lingering on his lips.

It’s not the first time he’s watched her leave. They’ve had plenty of quiet goodbyes—in hotel hallways, in elevators, in hidden corners of the paddock where no one was looking. But this one feels different. Heavier.

He sighs, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to get up.

The room still smells like her. It’s a ridiculous thing to notice, but he does—when he moves, when he picks up his clothes from the floor, when he starts stuffing them into the open suitcase beside the bed. There’s something mechanical about the act of folding t-shirts and layering them over piles of laundry, of zipping up the suitcase with a sharp click, of mentally checking if he’s forgotten anything.

For some reason, it annoys him.

He’s supposed to be looking forward to the summer break. Four weeks with no races, no flights every other day, no endless motorhome meetings. It’s what he’s been waiting for.

But now that it’s here—now that the door has closed and Elena is gone—it doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Oscar picks it up without thinking, expecting a message from his mother or the team. But no.

Elena: I hope you’ve at least gotten out of bed. Don’t blame me when you realize you’re running late for the airport.

He exhales a small laugh, leaning against the desk. Of course Elena is the first to text. She always seems one step ahead of him.

Oscar: Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me first thing in the morning?

It takes less than ten seconds for a reply.

Elena: I have an hour-long drive ahead of me. Consider this an act of charity.

Oscar shakes his head, barely noticing the way a smile tugs at his lips.

After a moment, his fingers slide over the screen again.

Oscar: Do you miss me already?

This time, the reply takes a little longer. As if Elena is actually thinking about it.

Finally, his screen lights up.

Elena: Keep dreaming.

Oscar sets the phone back down on the nightstand, still smiling faintly, but the feeling in his chest doesn’t fade.

Because, deep down, he already misses her.

He has barely stepped into the terminal when he spots his mother.

She’s standing there, arms crossed, a knowing little smirk on her face—like she knows something he doesn’t. Or worse: like she knows something he thinks he’s hidden well.

And then he sees it.

The phone in her hand. The screen lit up.

And a crystal-clear image of his own face on the Belgian Grand Prix podium, wearing the most obvious, irrefutable, damning expression he’s ever had in his life.

That damn photo.

Oscar stops dead in his tracks, the exhaustion from the flight hitting him all at once, mixed with pure, knee-jerk denial.

“No.”

His mother doesn’t even blink.

“Yes.”

“I don’t make that face.”

“Oh, darling…” she sighs, holding the screen closer to him, as if that was necessary. “You have exactly that face.”

Oscar grimaces, shifting his gaze to anything else—the people walking by, the luggage carts, the absurdly patterned airport carpet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mother raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” She swipes across the screen and shows him another image, this time a video capturing the exact moment his face changes when he spots Elena in the crowd. “And what’s this, then?”

Oscar clenches his jaw, cursing internally at the cameraman who managed to capture that moment so precisely.

“I was…” He trails off, desperately searching for an excuse. But there isn’t one. Because he knows exactly why he had that expression. He knows exactly who he was looking at. And he knows that his mother knows, too.

She waits, patient, with that look that has been disarming him since childhood.

Oscar exhales, defeated.

“Can I at least get a coffee before the interrogation?”

His mother smirks, turning toward the exit.

“Oh, of course. But don’t think you’re getting away with this, darling. We have a lot to talk about.”

For Elena, summers at home have always had their own rhythm, a routine shaped by the heat, sports, and family. And she enjoys it. She needs it, even. After months of airports, race tracks, and frantic schedules, there’s something comforting about returning to familiar sounds—the echo of footsteps on stone floors, the rustling leaves stirred by the wind, the laughter of her sisters in the garden.

But this summer is different.

Because, for the first time, there’s something—someone—outside of this world occupying her mind more than it should.

She tells herself it’s absurd, that it’s not like they’re going years without seeing each other. It’s just a month. Four weeks. Thirty days.

And yet, every night, as the rest of the house sleeps, she feels the buzz of her phone under her pillow, and her heart skips a beat.

Oscar.

Oscar: What is Carlos Sainz’s favorite sister doing on a random Tuesday?

Elena: Trying not to get caught texting you. And you?

Oscar: Counting the days until I can see you roll your eyes at me in person again.

Elena bites her lip, hiding a smile in the darkness.

Elena: I’d love to say I don’t miss you at all.

Oscar: But you can’t.

No. She can’t.

And it’s ridiculous because she keeps herself busy. She wakes up early to go hiking with her father and Carlos. She plays football with her cousins in the garden. She joins Carlos and his friends on their cycling routes, challenging each other to climb the mountain passes faster, both acting more like kids than fully grown adults.

And in the middle of it all, she always finds a moment.

A stolen minute under the shade of a secluded tree to call him. A quick text while changing shoes. A picture of Carlos falling off his bike, his foot still clipped to the pedal, captioned: I miss you, but this makes up for it a little.

Oscar’s reply comes instantly.

Oscar: You’re lucky I like you this much.

Elena chuckles softly, leaning her head back against the tree trunk.

She knows this is dangerous. The more they get used to this, the harder it will be to go back to their respective lives, each on opposite ends of the globe.

But right now, she doesn’t care.

It’s the middle of the night, and she’s been asleep for a couple of hours when the vibration of her phone pulls her from sleep.

Elena blinks into the darkness of her room, disoriented, her heart beating slow and heavy in her chest. She reaches blindly toward her nightstand, fumbling until her fingers find the device.

The screen lights up the dim room.

Oscar.

It’s four in the morning in Madrid. Two in the afternoon in Melbourne.

She presses her lips together before swiping to accept the call, bringing the phone to her ear as she sinks into her pillow.

“Do you know what time it is?” Her voice is a hoarse whisper from sleep.

On the other end, Oscar lets out a quiet laugh.

“I knew you were awake.”

Elena closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

“I wasn’t. Until you decided to call me.”

“Well, if you answered, that means you don’t hate me that much,” he teases.

Elena doesn’t respond right away. She turns onto her side, hugging her pillow as she focuses on the sound of his voice.

“How are you?” she finally asks, calmer now.

“Tired,” Oscar admits. “It’s weird being back here.”

She understands. They’ve both returned to the normalcy of their own lives, but nothing feels normal. Miami, Silverstone, Budapest, Spa… all those weekends together feel like a world apart. And now, here they are, separated by thousands of miles, pretending everything is the same.

“What about you?” he asks.

Elena burrows a little deeper under the blankets, a small smile on her lips.

“I did a brutal cycling route with Carlos today. Nearly died by the time we reached the mountain pass, and Carlos laughed at me.”

Oscar chuckles.

“I find that hard to believe.”

"That I almost died or that I made it to the summit?"

"That you almost died," he replies casually. "You're stronger than Carlos, and you know it."

Elena feels the warmth spreading in her chest but ignores it.

"Tell him that. He called me a 'rookie.'"

"That’s just his wounded pride talking."

She smiles, letting herself get carried away by the familiarity of the conversation. They talk about everything and nothing. He tells her about his mother’s cooking and how his dog has decided to ignore him for being away so long. She tells him how her father spent the afternoon teaching Rebecca to drive on dirt roads, with Carlos and her yelling from the back seat.

The conversation flows easily, without awkward pauses. Every time silence threatens to settle in, one of them finds something else to say. But at some point, the conversation shifts. It becomes quieter.

"I miss you," Oscar says suddenly, with a sincerity that disarms her.

Elena doesn’t answer right away. Not because she doesn’t feel the same, but because she feels too much.

"I miss you too," she murmurs at last, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

"It’s strange, isn’t it?" he continues. "Not seeing you every day."

Elena exhales.

"Yeah."

Another silence. This time, neither of them fills it.

Until Oscar breaks it with an idea that shouldn’t sound as crazy as it does.

"What if we meet up?"

Elena blinks, suddenly wide awake.

"What?"

"Let’s run away. Just for a few days. Just us."

She stays still, her heart pounding faster.

"That’s insane."

"A little insanity wouldn’t hurt us," he reasons. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his tone that makes her picture him with that lopsided grin, eyes squinting slightly under the Melbourne afternoon sun. "Tell me you don’t want to."

Elena bites her lip. She can’t.

She doesn’t want to.

"I can give you five days. That’s all the time Carlos will let me go without hiring a private investigator," she finally says.

Oscar smiles on the other end of the line.

"Five days."

And the next morning, Elena drops the bomb at the breakfast table. If she wants to get away with it, she has to act naturally—with the confidence of someone who has nothing to hide.

So, as she sets her plate in the sink after breakfast, she announces casually, "I’m leaving for a few days."

She knows she has everyone’s attention in less than a second.

Carlos, sitting across the table, frowns with his mouth full of toast. Their mother, standing by the coffee machine, turns with interest.

"Where to?" Carlos asks, still chewing.

Elena leans against the counter, phone in hand.

"A friend’s house on the coast."

Carlos gives her a skeptical look.

"What friend?"

"Clara."

She’s the first name that comes to mind. Their mother nods, as if that makes it all perfectly logical, but Carlos keeps staring at her with the same doubtful expression.

"Since when are you and Clara such good friends?"

Elena rolls her eyes.

"Carlos, we went to school together for ten years."

"And you haven’t seen her in four."

"Exactly. We caught up recently, and she invited me to stay for a few days."

Carlos doesn’t look convinced.

"And you’re just leaving, out of nowhere."

"Why not? It’s the summer break, I don’t have to stay here the whole time."

Carlos crosses his arms.

"Hmm."

Their mother, on the other hand, just smiles.

"Well, darling, if you want to go, go."

Carlos looks at her like he can’t believe she’s accepting the explanation so easily.

"Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?"

"Carlos, please," their mother says, shaking her head in amusement. "It’s summer. Can’t your sister go to the beach for a few days without you interrogating her like she’s planning a heist?"

Elena smirks at Carlos before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Exactly. Thanks, Mom."

Carlos huffs but seems to give in.

"When are you leaving?"

"Early tomorrow morning."

"Uh-huh."

Carlos keeps watching her, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines. Elena ignores him, picking up her cup and heading for the door.

Her phone vibrates in her hand.

A message from Oscar.

"Mission accomplished?"

Elena smiles before replying.

"Obviously. Who do you think I am?"

Elena doesn’t know exactly when she realizes that this—whatever it is they’re doing—is a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe it’s when she opens her eyes that first morning in Croatia and finds Oscar already awake, his head resting in his palm, just watching her.

Or when, after spending the afternoon exploring the town, they step into a small market to buy groceries for dinner and end up arguing—far too seriously—about which kind of pasta is better.

Or maybe it’s when, without thinking too much about it, she tosses a towel at his face after her shower, and instead of complaining, he pulls it away slowly and grins like an idiot. Like this is normal. Like this isn’t something they’ll regret sooner or later.

But they don’t think about that. Or rather, they pretend not to.

The town is perfect. A hidden corner on the Croatian coast, with whitewashed stone houses, cobbled streets, and the sea glistening under the August sun. No one knows them here. No one watches them. Here, they can walk without looking over their shoulders, without worrying about cameras or curious eyes.

And so they do.

They walk along the shore, sandals in hand, letting the foam of the waves soak their ankles. They eat at a small restaurant where the owner treats them like locals. They spend the afternoon at a secluded cove, where Oscar splashes her unexpectedly, and Elena lunges at him without a second thought, sending them both crashing into the water, laughing.

They don’t talk much about what this means.

They don’t say out loud that they’re playing with fire.

They just exist.

For the first time since this all began, they are together without the pressure of the paddock, without the weight of the forbidden. They wake up tangled in white sheets, have slow breakfasts on the terrace, Oscar cooks while Elena sits on the counter, stealing bites of whatever he’s making.

It’s ridiculously domestic.

Ridiculously easy.

And that’s why, somewhere in the back of her mind, Elena knows it can’t last.

It’s their last evening together, and the sun is starting to set over the sea, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange. The heat of the day still lingers on the wooden terrace of the small house they’ve rented, where the sound of waves crashing against the rocks blends with the distant murmur of locals enjoying the evening.

Oscar absentmindedly turns the beer bottle in his hands, his gaze lost in the foam sliding down the glass. Across from him, Elena leans back in her chair, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a fingertip.

The silence between them is comfortable.

But Oscar knows he can’t leave it like this.

“I don’t want this to end when summer does.”

Elena lifts her gaze slowly, as if her thoughts were somewhere else. She blinks a couple of times before speaking.

“What do you mean?”

Oscar lets out a humorless chuckle, dropping his eyes to the table.

“I mean, I don’t want to go back to pretending this isn’t happening.”

Elena doesn’t answer right away. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, studying him with those eyes that always seem to know more than they say.

“I don’t know if we have a choice.”

Oscar looks up, holding her gaze.

“There’s always a choice.”

Elena sighs, running a hand through her hair before pushing her glass aside.

“Oscar…”

He shakes his head before she can continue.

“Don’t tell me it won’t work. That it’s complicated. That we have to think about Carlos, the paddock, everything else. Because I know. I’ve thought about it a million times. But what scares me more than what happens if we keep going… is what happens if we stop.”

Elena stays quiet.

For a moment, Oscar fears she won’t respond—that she’ll get up from the table, deflect with a sharp remark like she’s done so many times before.

But then, she speaks.

“If I’m being honest… I’m scared of that too.”

Oscar blinks. He wasn’t expecting her to admit it so easily.

“Yeah?”

Elena nods slowly.

“Since the season started, everything has been so intense. At first, it was just this ridiculous tension, this game. I loved getting under your skin.” She smiles a little, but there’s more nostalgia than teasing in it. “But then it became something else. Something I couldn’t control anymore.”

Oscar leans in slightly, never taking his eyes off her.

“When did you realize?”

Elena holds his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, she hesitates.

“I think… since the beginning.”

Something tightens in Oscar’s chest.

“Then why have we been avoiding it for so long?”

Elena lets out a quiet laugh, like the answer is too obvious.

“Because it was easier that way. If we ignored it, we didn’t have to face what it meant.”

Oscar watches her for a long moment. Then, with a tired smile, he says, 

“Falling for you was too easy.”

Elena drops her gaze for a second before looking up again, her expression knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Falling for you was too easy, too.”

The world seems to stop.

Oscar feels a tingling in his skin, like his body is trying to process what he just heard.

“Elena…”

But she keeps going.

"I didn’t want to accept it," she says quietly. "Because I was scared. Because if this ends, I don’t know how we go back to being the same. I don’t know how I’ll look at you without it hurting."

Oscar takes her hand across the table. Their fingers fit together like they were made for it.

"I don’t want this to end."

Elena tightens her grip, not letting go.

"Me neither."

They stay like that for a moment, in silence, with the sun setting behind them and the sound of the ocean filling the empty spaces.

Until Elena breaks the calm.

"So… what do we do now?"

Oscar exhales slowly.

"We can’t keep hiding forever."

Elena nods.

"Carlos won’t accept it."

"Not right away, no."

"I don’t want him to find out from someone else."

Oscar lets out a dry laugh.

"Well, it’s not like we’ve been very subtle."

Elena rolls her eyes.

"That’s your fault."

Oscar raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You’re the one who looks at me like—" She stops herself, and Oscar grins.

"Like what?"

She meets his gaze, unyielding.

"Like you physically can’t not look at me."

Oscar leans in slightly, closing the space between them. His voice is a murmur.

"Like you matter too much."

Elena narrows her eyes.

"Too much?"

He shakes his head, a smile on his face.

"Meh, not enough."

And then, without thinking, without hesitating for a second longer, he kisses her.

The morning sun bathes the town in that golden warmth that only exists on vacation. The breeze smells of salt and freshly baked bread, and the cobblestones beneath their feet radiate the accumulated heat of previous days. Oscar and Elena walk aimlessly, slipping between market stalls, weaving through café terraces, blending into the crowd of people who live here without knowing that, for them, this is their last day of reprieve.

Tomorrow, everything goes back to normal. Tomorrow, they return to their lives. Tomorrow, the distance.

But today, today is still theirs.

Elena stops in front of a small flower stall, leaning over the tin buckets filled with sunflowers and lavender. The vendor, an elderly man with a white mustache, smiles when he sees her interest.

“For you, take one as a gift.” He plucks a sprig of lavender and offers it to her.

Elena smiles and accepts it with a small nod. Oscar watches her, saying nothing, caught in that quiet awe that sometimes overtakes him when he looks at her for too long.

He still doesn’t understand how he got here—how he ended up in a small Croatian coastal town, watching Elena pick flowers under the sun, holding her hand like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

She turns to him and tucks the lavender behind his ear with a teasing smile.

“There. Now you smell nice.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but doesn’t take it off.

They keep walking, unrushed, savoring the morning. They pass an ice cream shop, and Elena suddenly craves pistachio gelato. Oscar buys one for her, and as always, she offers him the first bite. It’s a simple, silly gesture, but it leaves a warmth in his chest.

They stroll to the town square, where a fountain with crystal-clear water sparkles, and children run around, laughing. They sit on the edge, sharing the ice cream, carrying the easy carelessness of people who believe the day will stretch on forever.

Oscar doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, only that, at some point, Elena rests her head on his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, letting himself drift.

And then, the peace shatters.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Oscar feels his entire body go rigid.

No.

No.

No way.

But yes.

Carlos Sainz stands at the other end of the square, frozen in place, his jaw slack, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Beside him, his girlfriend Rebecca has a hand over her mouth, but from the way her shoulders shake, it’s clear she’s holding back laughter.

Oscar doesn’t dare move.

He knows Carlos has already connected the dots.

The pistachio ice cream drips slowly between his fingers, melting.

Elena, still resting her head on his shoulder, exhales deeply before murmuring,

“Well… the odds of this happening were pretty low.”

Oscar swallows hard.

Carlos blinks several times, as if trying to reboot his brain. Then he looks at Oscar. Then at Elena. Then at their intertwined hands. Then back at Oscar.

Oscar sees the exact moment reality slams into him.

Carlos blinks. Takes a deep breath. And explodes.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

Elena, calm as ever, straightens her posture and stretches as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Carlos.”

“CARLOS?! JUST ‘CARLOS’?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!”

“Don’t shout.”

“I’M NOT SHOUTING!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I AM ABSOLUTELY SHOUTING!”

Oscar is too paralyzed to intervene. He feels like a deer caught in headlights.

Elena gets to her feet with an exasperated sigh, like she’s dealing with a tantrum-throwing child.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?”

“I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU WITH HIM?” Carlos gestures wildly toward Oscar, like he’s some inanimate object instead of a person with a name.

Oscar opens his mouth to say something—anything—but no words come out.

“I’m on vacation. Just like you,” Elena replies, completely unfazed.

Carlos looks about ready to combust.

“With him?”

“Yes.”

Oscar wants to disappear.

Carlos points an accusing finger at him.

“YOU!”

Oscar instinctively straightens.

“Me?”

“YES, YOU! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER?!”

Oscar opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“Uh…”

“‘UH’ WHAT?!”

Elena sighs.

“Carlos, seriously, can you drop the dramatics?”

“IT’S NOT DRAMATICS! IT’S A VERY SERIOUS QUESTION!”

Rebecca finally decides to step in, placing a gentle hand on Carlos’s arm.

“Babe, breathe.”

“I DON’T WANT TO BREATHE!”

“Well, you should.”

Carlos lets out an angry huff but at least shuts his mouth.

Elena crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

Carlos scowls.

“No.”

“Let me know when you are.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

@smoooothoperator @freyathehuntress @gold66loveblog @hadesnumber1daughter

if you want to get added to my permanent taglist, just let me know! likes, comments and reblogs are really appreciated. your support means the world to me and it keeps me motivated! thank you all <3

[madcoincidence]

Next >

The Bioengineer's

Cybertronian Knight

1

Ratchet's younger life was a pretty normal one with only a few small ups and downs. Before all the chaos with the Quintessons, he had been the youngest to finish top of his classes and receive his Bioengineering PhD. He was strongly encouraged to further his education and thanks to his roommate at the time, it wasn't long before he returned to do just that. He had almost lost the dumbass when their apartment's designated research room exploded.

He never wanted to relive that feeling of helplessness he had while cradling Jackie's bloody shrapnel dusted face in his lap. Only able to wait for help while trying to keep pressure on the gushing wound from Jackie's thigh, it was a real bad time. After that he worked hard to earn the next step up from Bioengineering. He gained a Biomedical Engineering PhD while soaking up the training needed to do field triage. By the time he had finished everything, Jackie had fully recovered and finished building a much larger lab for them as an apology to Ratchet for destroying all their belongings.

"Level four. Bleeding has stopped and a safe neural link disconnection from the mecha is done. Give him oxygen and keep track of how long it takes for him to regain consciousness." Ratchet motions for his team to move in and lift the pilot out to their transport. Ratchet doesn't leave with them, stabilizing and disconnecting the pilot from the mecha suit was just step one of twenty-seven. His focus now shifts to shutting down the Mecha to stop the over heated frame and sparking wires from causing an explosion. While he works his multitasking brain shifts back to thinking over his life choices, ranting and banter has always helped steady his hands.

Jackie was a hazard to limbs but still not the worst to be around. No, that could go to Roddy and his meddling. The menace has tried setting him up with many blind dates. Thanks to him there was one blind date that few know of and wouldn't dare bring up if they value their vocal cords. The ones who do know of it have started calling it ‘the one night-’

Ratchet clicks his tongue with a heavy sigh as electricity and hot sparks fly and pop all around him. It laps against his gloved hands and hits his visor with snapping sizzles. Just as good ol’ Jackie promised, the suit is able to withstand whatever a seriously damaged Mecha can dish out. Unless it's an explosive level of damage, the suit can absorb or dispel the electrical current and heat. Ratchet wrangles a handful of the sparking stripped wires that are swaying above his head as he swipes through the smoking control panel. He smashes in all override codes, allowing the suit to start the shutdown protocols. He drifts back to mentally ranting while the metal frame around him pings and creaks.

Nah, compared to both Jackie and Roddy, Jazz and his mecha suit have to be the biggest migraine starter pack. That maniac tests Ratchet's skills almost daily, on and off the field. How many times has he saved Jazz's life? Too many times. Jazz is a devil of chaos in that mecha suit, always doing down right suicidal stunts anytime an opportunity strikes. Ratchet has personally worked with Jackie on Jazz's mecha to make sure the kid wouldn't end up frying himself or slip further into insanity. Still with all the care put into that mecha, Jazz's sanity is still debatable.

Yeah… keeping everyone sane and healthy is something that feeds into Ratchet's sleepless nights. He knows better than to think he can save everyone, he was never that naive. Still the harsh reality of how fragile life is hit hard and fast at the beginning of the Quintesson war. Those memories are buried deep down with the first prototypes of mecha suites. Despite everything, Ratchet still refuses to give up on anyone, he'll do everything in his power to save someone in his care. The small moments during down time, when he catches people smiling, singing, and laughing with friends thought lost to this war, helps make the nightmares just a bit easier to endure.

Ratchet stands up and swipes broken glass off his knees before grabbing the strap to his satchel. With the Mecha safely disabled Ratchet shrugs the strap over a shoulder and starts climbing out of the cockpit to start scanning the area for any more downed pilots. Being in the mecha had muffled the ear splitting screeches and roars of battle. Outside the mecha, everything echoed and rumbled through the hills and gullies, shaking the ground and trees. The trees where the bulk of the fight is happening have caught fire, turning the sky a hazy gray with a reddish orange hue. The fight has fallen closer to city limits but still hasn't reached the level of what the commanders would call a, ‘panic level threat’ to allow evacuation efforts. That, like many things, is not something Ratchet agrees with.

From his position on the Mecha's chest, Ratchet narrows his eyes to try and see through the smoke better. He spots specks of red light flickering from a gully to his left. It's close enough to him and his team that he can make out a mecha shaped form at the bottom, “Aid! Fix! With me! Everyone else, start hooking this up to the transport!” Ratchet yells above the noise while he climbs down the Mecha and hops off to the ground when close enough. Satisfied that his team immediately starts moving as soon as he gives orders, Ratchet starts jogging with Aid and Fix right behind him. “We need to move fast. I spotted a downed Mecha past that hill. Don't know how long it's been there. Since we haven't seen any mecha close to us while working, I am going to assume it's been a while.” Ratchet grips the strap to his satchel as he picks up the pace. The lights he saw means the mecha is still functional but no movement tells him the pilot is injured or worse.

- - - - - - - - -

While they catch their breath, Ratchet scans the gully to find the best way down, “Ratchet, sir... this is a really steep climb down. Let's find another way. Trying would be way too risky.” Fix rasps out as he wipes his forehead with his sleeve. Aid makes a wheezing noise while hunched over, hands on his knees. The smoke and soot is not doing their lungs any favors. 

“This thing stretches for miles. Quickest way is to climb down. Don't like it, stay up here.” Ratchet coughs to clear his throat as he squats down to look over the edge. At the bottom of the gully, laying on its side in murky pink tinted water is the damaged mecha. The lights he had spotted from before are coming from what seems to have been a space ship. From what Ratchet can see of the remains, it doesn't resemble a Quintesson transport vessel. Hard to say though since it's scattered everywhere. Some of the shredded debris is embedded into the walls of the gully. Larger pieces are scattered all around the mecha. Ratchet swings his legs over the edge and start climbing down. He ignores Fix's pleas and calls up to Aid, “Call for the mecha transporter. If it's stable enough to be moved, it might be safer to keep the pilot inside the cockpit.”  The two wheeze and mumble above him but he catches the click and static screech of a field radio turning on.

 As Ratchet climbs down he glances over his shoulder every now and then trying to see what he's working with. He notices a lot of damage to the plating on the mecha's arms, chest, and back. Possible damage to the cockpit has Ratchet taking the risk of using less sturdier holds for his hands and feet. Ratchet notes that the weird pink color in the water is coming from the deep gashes and holes littering the mecha's frame. The larger pieces of debris that Ratchet thought were from the ship turns out to be chunks of Quintessons. Ratchet exhales, steadying his nerves as he continues the climb down. When he deems it close enough, he clears the rest of the way by sliding down into the water with a splash. Thankfully it's only knee deep.

After fixing his strap and giving a dry cough, Ratchet pulls out his infamous wrench from the satchel and takes a step forward. The muddy bottom sucks his boots back down with every step forward, “Kid better be alive.” Ratchet mutters to himself, not wasting any more time he works his way towards the mecha. His breath catches when he sees how detailed the mecha's face is. Its lips are pulled into a tight thin-lined frown and the eyebrows are pinched together, creasing the area between its closed eyes. Like it can feel the wounds while unconscious, so expressive…. Ratchet shakes off that trail of thought before it can get started, “Pilots skipping face shields and visors for their mecha's now? Is this where the money is being wasted? Mecha used for commercials and toys shouldn't be out on the field. Wait till I get you out kid. If all of this was a stupid publicity stunt, you'll wish the Quintessons finished you off.”

He tightens his hold on the wrench as he makes it to the chest plates. His heart is pounding just a little faster but he continues to ignore all the red flags saying something is off about this mecha. If there's a chance there's someone in there, then he needs to try to save them. Besides, he has that gut feeling that he's needed here and that gut feeling has never failed him yet, “hot… but not a, going to blow up right now, kind of hot.” Ratchet mumbles as he slowly, barely, ghosts his gloved fingers tips over where the cockpits emergency release panel should be, “Not helpful kid. How am I supposed to get to you if I can't find the medical override..” He swears he saw a clawed finger twitch inside his peripheral vision. The weird muffled whirling noise coming from its chest picks up.

“Ratchet move!!” Aid and Fix scream out from above. Ratchet turns his head towards them then to the heavy thwumps and splashes from behind the mecha's frame. Ratchet curses and waves a hand for them to back away from the ledge and stay down. He grips the wrench in both hands and presses his back into the Mecha's chest plating. Very familiar blood chilling, high pitched chitters, and low hisses surround him. Tentacles slide around and on the mecha, moving past the frame closer to Ratchet. He doesn't dare breathe as one comes extremely close to brushing against his leg.

Many things happen in the next few minutes. The sound of shifting plates and a whirr chur noise comes from behind him. He ends up falling back into the water as the surface he was pressed against moves away way too fast to follow. Ratchet's cool blue eyes dart up to catch sight of a Quintesson with a mecha sized gun down its throat. He's barely able to register that before being drenched in muddy water and Quintessons blood as it rains down on him. He scrambles to clear his visor as chunks of the alien continues to hit the water. 

When he can see again he looks to his sides then up. The mecha is crouched above him, one knee had been very close to squishing him. The mecha tosses the gun to the side and this time that knee blocks Ratchet from the splash. Water with the weird pink liquid drizzles off the mecha as it grabs another Quintesson by the tentacles and yanks it towards them. Ratchet scoots back and stumbles to his feet as the mecha doesn't hesitate to sink it's claws into the Quintesson's head and lower jaw.

With a stomach flipping roar, the towering being above him rips off the Quintesson's jaw and toss it aside like the gun. The rest of the body is droped carelessly in front of them. Ratchet yells out as this time, once again, he's soaked. His suit is well past being comfortable anymore. Burning red eyes land on Ratchet for a split second before growing staticy, the mechanical being gives a sharp wince. The red static quickly becomes a solid but dimmer red as the mecha turns its upper torso to focus on the next charging Quintesson.

- - - - - - - - -

Ratchet definitely can't ignore the ‘this is not a mecha’ warnings anymore. Weird destroyed spaceship, red flag. Weird pink fluid leaking from the mecha, definitely not oil or lubricant, red flag. Mecha vocalizing through a moving mouth and showing hints of pain, big red flag. The moment the Quintessons are dealt with the 'not piloted by a human but very much mecha looking' being falls back onto their side. When the shaking from the large being's fall settles Ratchet had finished processing everything.

Right now to Ratchet, the only thing that matters is they're hurt and Ratchet may be able to help them. Ratchet trudges through the water towards the mechanical being as they give a static filled rumble, “Hush, you did enough. Thank you.” Ratchet places his palm on their cheek and rubs the warm metal trying to sooth them. He doubts it's really doing anything but he wants to sound and be as calm and sincere as he can.

He watches as the eye watching him darts to the edge of the gully where his teammates are yelling at him to be careful, “It's ok kid we're getting you out of here. Focus on me. Just me." The rumbles trickle away as the intense red glow shrinks back onto Ratchet. It flickers a few more times, then slowly dims till it's completely off. A lid slides over the eye closing with a soft click, “I've got you.” Ratchet promises switching the pets to a pat. With a shaky exhale, he starts planning out how he can fit this metal being into his quarters back on base. Jackie would be happy help him rearrange his sitting area.

*** *** ***

Next >

Sooooo, I realized I didn't start with how Ratchet and Deadlock meet in the TF Mecha Universe. I just hopped straight into the mushy stuff.

@keferon 's TF Mecha Universe has given me a spark of creativity again. So thank you Keferon for starting this chaos! It's beautiful. I am looking forward to writing this fanfic, it's quickly stolen all of my attention. I have a lot planned out and written up already, just sitting in my drafts . (even if it's taking forever for me to edit 😅) Anyways, I hope this was an enjoyable read!

Keferon has been overflowing with tons of wonderful asks, so I though I could make it a bit easier on them by figuring out how to post this fanfic here. Chapter Two: Finally doing last time Edits

[sanriobuny]

Part 2: Getting the Cross

Pairings: JJ x Reader, dark!Rafe x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, emotional manipulation, gun violence, mild drugging effects, swearing

You woke to motion.

The low, uneven rumble of a truck engine vibrated beneath you, your head lolling against a cold window. Every nerve in your body screamed with drowsy confusion. Your limbs felt like cement. Your tongue was heavy in your mouth.

The fog in your brain lifted just enough to register the voice beside you.

“I know you’re awake,” Rafe said quietly. “You always furrow your brow when you’re dreaming.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The edges of your vision still swam, the world shifting like waves under a boat.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he added. “I didn’t give you that much.”

You forced yourself upright. “Where are we?”

He smiled, eyes fixed on the road. “Safe.”

That word again.

“Rafe,” you rasped. “Turn around.”

“No,” he said easily. “You don’t see it now, but this is better. You’re not meant for scraps and half-assed plans. You deserve gold, baby.”

You tried the handle. Locked.

His smile didn’t falter. “We’re already too far. And even if you jumped — you think JJ’s gonna get to you in time? He’s not that kind of guy. Not like me.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “He’s exactly that kind of guy.”

Silence.

Then Rafe’s hands tightened on the wheel, veins popping in his forearms.

“We’ll see.”

He reached for you. You slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

His jaw tensed. “You used to let me touch you.”

“That was before you lost your mind.”

His eyes darkened. For a heartbeat, you thought he might explode. But instead, he smiled — that eerie, sideways kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’ll see… No JJ. No distractions. You’ll remember why you loved me.”

---

JJ was sprinting until his lungs gave out.

The second your body slumped in that passenger seat, something in him snapped — something primal and electric. He didn’t stop screaming your name until the truck disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“They took her,” he panted, hunched over with hands on his knees. “Rafe took her.”

John B, catching up after chasing Rose — who had dragged Sarah away — was breathless. “We need help. Right now.”

“No. We don’t wait,” JJ said, straightening with fire in his eyes. “We go after them. I’m not losing her.”

His fists trembled. He looked feral — not reckless, but fueled by something deeper. Something unshakable.

“She jumped that wall alone,” he whispered. “And I let her.”

Pope laid a hand on his shoulder. “Then we get her back.”

---

JJ was on the warpath.

He tore through OBX backroads, Pope and John B crammed in the van beside him.

“She’s strong,” Pope said. “She’ll hang on. They both will.”

JJ shook his head. “She doesn’t need to hang on. She needs out.”

They were coming.

And Rafe didn’t know it yet — but this time, the Pogues weren’t playing defense.

They were coming for war.

Because this time, they all had something to lose.

---

The truck pulled up to the pier. You saw the massive cargo ship ahead, cranes loading shipping containers one by one.

“No — Rafe, I’m not getting on that boat! You can’t take me away from here. Please!” You begged, yanking on the handle again, praying it might somehow be unlocked. You kept pulling, pounding your fists against the door, knowing your fate was sealing shut.

“This is for your own good,” Rafe said calmly. “You’ll be thanking me when you see where we’re going — and why.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You really were trapped.

Then you saw Rose’s car pull up. She and Wheezie were dragging an unresponsive Sarah toward the ship.

You scoffed. “No surprise there. You lied again. You drugged her, too!”

Rafe didn’t flinch. “That one was all Rose. I couldn’t care less if Sarah came or not. I only care that you make it on that ship.”

He came around to your side, opening the door and pulling you out firmly.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he murmured. “I told them that. You’re here because I want you here.”

Your voice was a whisper. “That doesn’t make this okay.”

He tilted his head, almost looking hurt. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to protect you.”

You looked him dead in the eye. “Then let me go.”

The steel in your voice made him pause. But only for a second. Then he gave a tight smile and stood.

“I can’t. You’ll see why.”

A foghorn blew — long and low.

They were preparing to sail.

You lunged.

Caught him off guard — you drove your shoulder into his ribs. He stumbled back, surprised, but recovered fast, spinning you around and slamming you against the railing.

You struggled, legs kicking, teeth bared.

“I don’t want this!” you screamed.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you and held tight.

His breath was ragged in your ear. “You used to.”

You twisted violently. His grip slipped — and you broke free, just long enough to run.

All you could think was: Where is JJ?

---

JJ was unraveling.

Pacing the shoreline like a caged animal, he stared out at the ship anchored just offshore. The drilling rig. The cranes. The cargo.

He knew — knew — you were on that boat.

“She’s on that ship,” he said through gritted teeth, gripping the binoculars so hard his knuckles went white. “I swear to God, she’s on it.”

“They’re taking the cross,” Pope confirmed, glued to the scope. “Probably getting ready to leave the country. They’re running.”

“No.” JJ turned, eyes blazing. “Rafe’s running. And he’s taking her with him.”

John B cursed. “How do we get on?”

JJ didn’t hesitate. “We don’t ask. We move. Make a distraction.”

---

It didn’t take long.

Rafe threw you over his shoulder and hauled you up the ramp, ignoring your kicking and screaming. No one stopped him. Probably all paid off.

You were thrown into a room — his room, judging by the open suitcase on the floor.

You tried everything. The handle. The window. Every inch of the room was sealed.

You were trapped.

You collapsed by the porthole, tears blurring your vision — and then your eyes caught it.

A flash in the distance.

A massive explosion ripped through one of the shipping containers, flames curling into the sky.

Your breath caught.

You watched the crew panic, running to contain the fire.

And in that moment — for the first time in what felt like forever — you felt it.

Hope.

---

JJ had fired into the flammable pipe.

The blast gave them cover.

And the chance to slip into a container undetected — ensuring they made it onto the ship.

They were coming.

And this time, JJ wasn’t going to lose you.

Authors note - couldn't stop writing, so I made a part 2 to the story. If you haven't already seen it, part 1 is on my page. I'm in the process of making a masterlist, so please bare with me :3

[quibbs126]

I’m noticing that the Decepticons in g1 are actually pretty intelligent, at least when it comes to engineering feats

Like they’re constantly building new bases, temporary or otherwise, unlike the Autobots who don’t even build out from the Ark’s place in the volcano. They make so many elaborate machines to extract energy, of which need to harness countless different energy sources, and they almost always successfully create Energon from them, the Energon only being unstable when the source itself is, not their process

And on top of energy machines, they build other impressive machines to hinder the Autobots in whatever way, and it’s not just one person who makes them, they all do. Like, Megatron on his own created a machine that successfully clones other Transformers, outside of having a working brain. And he’s made other things too, that’s just the one I remember. I know Starscream’s had his own scientific contributions, but I can’t remember them at the moment other than rigging an experimental energy source to explode the planet for infinite energy

Edit: I actually do now have an example for Starscream, namely the episode where they accidentally time travel to King Arthur times, in which Starscream invents a working electricity generator to power him and the other stranded Decepticons with technology and materials from the 500s, and creates gunpowder at least 300 years or so before it’s invented in China. I know Transformers technology is far past that, but the fact that he knew how to do this and was able to with incredibly archaic technology by their standards is a feat all on its own

Like their machines almost always work, it’s just that the Autobots destroy them or they tap into an energy source they didn’t fully understand the consequences of (or just didn’t care)

And you can’t even say the Autobots have the leg up by creating new Transformers, because I’m pretty sure the Decepticons made the Constructicons as well, who are also fairly skilled builders. And also have the ability to combine, and were the first I know of capable of doing so

Like I guess the Decepticons just all have degrees in STEM or something. Shame that seems to be where all their intelligence points went

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 12

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH Alastor finally learns the truth.

FIC SUMMARY: Lucifer has always kept his distance from sinners. It’s what keeps him (relatively) sane — if he gets too close, he is haunted by visions of the tragic mortal lives that landed them in Hell. But in his new life at the Hotel, it is more difficult than ever to stay away — and when it comes to light that his daughter’s insufferable facilities manager is gravely wounded, it falls to Lucifer to deliver his soul from Death. In so doing, he falls headfirst into the sins, past lives, and heartbreaks of the one human whose contradictions he is powerless to resist.

it's saturday so it's new chapter time!!! I went outside of my comfort zone for the art this time (with mixed results) but i really wanted to capture this moment this chapter!! ALSO we have a teeny lil discord server now for brain rot related to the fic so feel free to join in!

[AO3 LINK]

Chapter preview below!

Humanity has conceived of many delightful inventions over the eons. Lucifer could spend ages listing his favorites: the printing press, engines, soda, aqueducts, cereal with little prizes inside. But of all the surprises over the years, he’s pretty sure nothing tops electricity. 

The manipulation of electromagnetic fields has always been second-nature to Lucifer — he just never got the point. He was fine with living in a Hell lit by flames. Then humans discovered electricity, and Lucifer was blown away by all the potential they saw in it. Their little contraptions won Lucifer over immediately; over the years, he’s created hundreds of generators to support Hell’s burgeoning electrical grid. 

Which is to say that making a generator for the hotel is second-nature to him, even though he’s exhausted and the work involves a bunch of fiddly little parts. He’s only been at it for an hour and he’s already made good progress, working half in the hotel and half in the palace workshop, thanks to the portal he’s opened in the center of both rooms. He leaves it open so he’ll be able to hear if Alastor or Charlie come by while he’s in the palace, or if something implodes while he’s in the hotel — a very real possibility as he’s currently got the vacuum pump depressurizing the generator’s antimatter chamber. 

He gets up from his workbench in the hotel, trips on an empty wire roll, and stumbles through the portal into his workshop in search of motor oil. All of Lucifer’s creation stuff is piled at random on the floor-to-ceiling shelves that line the far wall of his workshop; he unfolds his wings and flits up to rifle through the bottles on the top shelf. 

“Lucifer?” 

It’s Alastor. 

“In here,” Lucifer says.

Alastor pokes his head through the portal just as Lucifer sticks his hand in something slippery and mysterious — he jerks his hand back and an assortment of solvents topple off the shelf and splatter on the floor. Alastor laughs; Lucifer scowls over his shoulder. “Not a word.” 

“What an utter mess,” Alastor says pleasantly. 

“Right,” Lucifer says dryly. He flaps his wings and alights on a table in front of Alastor. “Do you need something?” 

Alastor steps through the portal with a mug in his hands. He isn’t smiling — is this how it’s going to be from now on? Has Alastor decided he no longer needs to smile when they’re alone?

“I’ve brought more coffee,” Alastor says. “Though I’m not sure you should accept it in your present state.” He glances pointedly at Lucifer’s hand. 

Lucifer glances down — his fingers are dripping something thick and blue onto the tile floor. He groans and magicks the stuff away.

Alastor holds out the mug. “It’s a wonder you’re able to accomplish anything amidst such chaos.”

Lucifer takes the coffee and glances around at his workshop — at the overflowing shelves, the pile of random lithium-ion batteries in the corner, the charred remains of an exploded rollercoaster car for Lu Lu World which he’d never bothered to clean up. How long has it been since anyone visited the palace? Has it really been a couple … hundred years? 

“Hah — I get by somehow,” Lucifer says. 

Alastor steps around the table, studying the machinery around the edges of the room. He pauses at the narrow unmade bed tucked in the corner. Lucifer’s face heats — he’d forgotten about the ducky quilt. 

“Do you spend most of your time here?” 

“Um,” Lucifer says. “I sleep down here, yeah. I’m usually making stuff when I’m at home. This is where I work on the big stuff. Engines and … whatever. I have a smaller workshop upstairs where I make the, uh — the ducks.”

“May I see it?” 

“You want the tour?” 

“If you please,” Alastor says.

“Uh, okay — sure. I can do that. Yep.” He crosses the room and opens the door to the hall. “Right this way.” 

Lucifer heads for the entry hall. Alastor follows; their footsteps echo on the tile. The main hallway is lined with red doors, most of which have been shut for years. The palace is larger than the hotel, but for as long as Lucifer has lived alone, he’s used only a small fraction of its rooms. 

“Where do these doors lead?” Alastor says. 

“Oh — nowhere,” Lucifer says. “Just rooms that haven’t been used in a long time.” He points at the closed doors. “That one used to be Charlie’s playroom — on the right here was the music room. This was Lilith’s office. And this was Charlie’s classroom, back when she had a tutor.”

They step out into the entry hall. On their right, a wide marble staircase leads to the second and third floors; Lucifer leads Alastor past it, through the wide archway beside the stairs. 

“This is the kitchen,” he says. “I’ve got a bunch of snacks from Earth in the pantry, if there’s anything you want to try — I put a spell on the whole room to keep food from going bad.” 

Lucifer sits on one of the barstools at the kitchen island and watches Alastor peruse his collection of sugar cereals as though it were a shelf in a library. 

“Which cereal is your favorite?” 

“Hoo boy — that’s a tricky question. Um — I’ve definitely got a soft spot for — see that blue box on your right there? That’s Cotton Candy Crunch.” 

Alastor pulls the box off the shelf and regards it with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes! That one. It’s so good — but they discontinued it a couple of years back.” 

Alastor opens the box, pours a couple of pieces into his hand, and pops one into his mouth.

“Hm,” he says. 

“Yeah, they’re, uh — they’re pretty sweet.” Lucifer hops down off the barstool and slides the cereal from Alastor’s hand into his own — their hands brush together, and Lucifer’s kitchen becomes Alastor’s, in the yellow house. There’s a pile of dishes in the sink, a layer of dust over Alastor’s mother’s cast-iron pan. This memory is near the end of Alastor’s life, when he lived alone. 

Lucifer glances up and meets Alastor’s hazel eyes. Alastor is older than usual; orange evening light filters through the kitchen window and catches in the strands of gray in Alastor’s curls, glints off the copper frames of his round eyeglasses. Lucifer struggles to place this memory among the hundreds of evenings at the end of Alastor’s life in which he came home to an empty house, made a sandwich, smoked on the porch, and then went to sleep. 

Lucifer studies the faint lines that were just beginning to appear at the corners of Alastor’s eyes in his early thirties. What might Alastor have looked like, if he’d had the chance to grow old? Lucifer’s body might as well be carved from stone; it has never aged, never changed, apart from the switch flipped when he fell — but he knows enough of human souls to envy the terms of their existence, where time is precious and the world is always in motion. Alastor’s thirty-one year human life had passed, for Lucifer, in the blink of an eye; the time had meant nothing to him, and so he had slept it away in complete isolation, wandering the palace halls and watching rubber ducks fill up its empty corners.

Alastor is still studying Lucifer with that intensity that always makes Lucifer feel utterly transparent. Some corner of Lucifer’s mind prickles with the urge to turn away, to crack a joke, to make a passable attempt at hiding the jumble of emotions playing out across his face — but Lucifer can’t move — he is transfixed by the way the sunlight catches in Alastor’s eyelashes, like paint in a paintbrush.

“Um,” Lucifer says.

The memory dissolves; they are back in the palace kitchen. Lucifer remembers the cereal in his hand and pours it into his mouth — no point in letting perfectly good Cotton Candy Crunch go to waste. 

[snowiwyvern]

ok. so. i saw these posts 1 2 and brain went brrrrrr so some quick trigun x splatoon thoughts. lwk thinking about writing a oneshot about it because yayayayay

quick note: im still reading through trimax, so the trigun stuff is more of a trigun soup grabbing from 98' and tristamp. if i decide to add in more trimax lore later, ill reblog this with some edits lmao

my idea is that instead of it just being trigun reskinned or just splatoon reskinned, the stories are happening simultaneously with trigun events occurring within the splatoon world. splatoon events would play out mostly as normal. however, all the trigun stuff would be happening far out in the outer splatlands desert rather than a different planet

while the rest of the world refers to it as the outer splatlands desert, the residents know it as no mans land! theyre cut off from inkadia for whatever reason. maybe it is too dangerous to cross the desert for most people, or maybe the people in no mans land and inkadia just arent aware of each other, or maybe both. for whatever reason, there isnt really much communication, and no mans land wasnt really involved in or aware of a lot of the big events of splatoon

so. more into the lore

prior to the great war, some people saw that the water levels starting to rise, and went: oh shit. this leads to the seeds project, but instead of going into space, they head out into the outer splatlands desert. it was a joint project, between the octarians and inklings before they descended into war, so no mans land is inhabited by both octarians and inklings without the influence of the octarian army

however, project seeds didnt have the same cryogenic chambers it does in canon--they werent travelling for years anyways. with the plants being the zapfish, rem ends up finding vash and knives near the zapfish chambers and shes like omg??? zapfishlings??? she keeps them hidden for a bit, then the rest of the crew inevitably find out and it becomes a similar situation to 98'. some people like the twins, some people dont, some people are neutral on them

due to being zapfish instead of plants, their powers tend to be more about producing electricity than the other things they make in canon. however knives isnt knives without his knives, so they both have spines like real life catfish. theyre not venomous, but i might change that. im not sure. instead of generating things, knives, vash, and the zapfish produce electricity that powers the machines that generate things. these machines can use other sources of electricity like windmills, but the zapfish are the best source to use. there are people that know how to take care of these machines, and are called zapfish engineers due to the association

during this time, with inklings and octolings being the way they are, the twins end up as basically being the ships idols in an attempt to win their affections. so they do stuff like normal idols do, doing the news, getting dressed up in cute outfits by ship inhabitants (mostly rem), and performing songs (they both sing, and knives definitely plays the piano and organ. id have to think on vash's instrument and look more at canon lmao. they might just play the piano together im not sure yet). theyre also being taught how to use weapons, because. splatoon

so everything inevitably falls apart, because of course it does. they find tesla. while exploring the ships science department storage, they find her body. tesla had appeared prior to the seeds project, got found by inkfish that arent as kind as rem, and was studied and then killed and dissected. she ended up being kept and put into storage, then being moved into the project seeds storage for future study

they both freak the fuck out, and everything is super tense after that. knives ends up sabotaging the ships, rigging the ships to overload on electricity and explode. he also changes the route so theyll crash. he makes it so the zapfish chambers are left undamaged, like maybe activating blast doors or smth. he also sabotages the emergency escape pods, changing the code to activate them. as only he knows the code, only his and vashs pod is able to shoot off and get away from the bigger ships? project seeds vehicles? eh just vehicles works i guess, because they wouldnt exactly be flying spaceships like canon, more like huge trucks. im still calling them ships though. the people cant just run out, as knives made it so everything happened during a sandstorm so they couldnt escape easily

rem manages to stop the explosions (except ship 5, the one shes on, ofc), but the rest of the ships still crash and get destroyed. the inkfish that lived through the event manage to get past the blast doors, and using the zapfish to survive no mans land gets established

the great cities each have a few zapfish, while smaller cities either have a few mini zapfish or a single zapfish. theres one great zapfish that flies between the different great cities depending on whichever one it feels like hanging out at. i feel like knives would probably have a side quest of trying to catch it, and vash would see it pass by and be like whaddup bro

thats all i got rn i might add more later about after the great fall

[midnight---express]

Who with Who?

A Fun idea that I am so sad that no-one has taken advantage of is the idea that everyone genuinely can't tell who's dating who between Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki and Kaminari, the massive Bi-energy that emanates from that group is as thick as a thundercloud, and it doesn't help that they are all so comfortable with each other.

Like Denki will throw his arms around all of them, pell-mell, he vibes in Momo's room, Shouto discusses the meaning and intricates of lyrics with Kyouka (his conspiracy theorist brain would love picking them apart), Momo and Kyouka are almost joined at the hip most days chatting away, and Denki and Shoto are just vibing doing what ever crosses their mind (talking about Western heroes at the moment).

Like this group is so fun it's formed of two of the most sunshiny smiley people in the class with the two socially kinda awkward sarcasm duo.

It's such a fun crew and I love the fanon interactions, like we get plenty of all three of them with Momo.

But what does the dynamic between Kyouka and Shouto look like, I think it would be really funny if those two interacting is the complete opposite of what everyone expects, that being a sullen staring contest over coffee but no, it's these two dorks gushing about their interests and their SO's like you walk into the common room and you hear Shouto excitedly talking about the little jump, bounce and smile that Momo did when she saw him that morning, and Kyouka intently listening nodding furiously.

One stupid little headcanon I like is that both are so enamored by Thomas The Tank Engine, Shouto likes it as the expressions are super easy to read and Kyouka loves the soundtrack, since basicly no-one comes into his room they haven't realised that he's been building a model railway in there, and there are some suspiciously high-priced models in his collection.

Denki wanders in one evening as he can't sleep (weirdly a common fanon thing with him, must be all the extra electricity keeping him up) to see Shouto running his trains and they just sit and watch them like Ash and Kristofferson.

Okay we are working this out, who has string!

It's just fun that there are two sun's and they just pull around their moon's who are completely enamored by their smiles and are so obvious about it but then everyone else is going full Shouto mode and are grouped together in the common room with several balls of thread (Borrowed from Mezo) which have been spanned across it trying to work out how the hell this relationship works.

To top that whole bit all of the four walk into the spiders nest of Blue, Red, Purple and Yellow threads, holding hands (Yes in the order just mentioned) with befuddled faces, the rampant hushed shouting dials down, Mina is melting at the image presented.

"ahh, Polyonomy" Utters Fumikage in the most deadpan tone possible. (He knows that's not how the relationship is, as does Katsuki but both of them are doing this for shits and giggles and are really committed to the bit.)

They all hand Ochaco 1000 Yen in defeat (mock for two of them), Shouto is processing the walls of string with an impressed expression, Momo simply looks confused, Kyouka is red in the face, and Denki half explodes into a peels of laughter whilst pointing at Momo and Shouto, then back at himself and scream laughing again.

The Gods have descended.

Another stupid idea that I need to draw is simply the idea that Momo has accidentally taken on most of the Class Rep duties and now is spiraling mess trying not to cry and the other three latch onto this, with there now being the living embodiment of a thunderstorm inhabiting the inside of the classroom, the floor is vibrating, it smells like ozone and is muggy as hell, several people are standing in the doorway, Katsuki is halfway under his desk, Aizawa doesn't even want to try erasing one of them as Denki is being handed permissions slips and reading them (How is his Dyslexic ass doing that?) Kyouka is ordering people to sit down and Shouto is giving her a back massage (Very nice hands) the idea that those three teaming up can create the physical environment of the inside of a Thunderstorm is a terrifying prospect, Aizawa ain't questioning he's doing the roll less he get a live performance of Thunderstruck.

It's so funny that they three are some of the chilliest people in the class but then it's the full force of Wall Socket, Surround Sound and Thermometer turning into forces of nature when their bestie get's insulted or starts crying, I'm calling this dynamic the MomoMilitia.

Those three will fight god for their friend at 3am, they will win.

Thank you for coming to the inane ramblings.

[ghalaghoul]

On the subject of my Star Trek TOS rewatch.

I didn’t remember a single fucking thing about the episode “The Alternative Factor”, and I think maybe my brain purged it because it fucking sucks?

I need to talk about how bad this episode is.

So we start with the ship being rocked by what Spock describes as a “cosmic winking out”, a brief moment of “nonexistance”. Then, sensors pick up a life form on the planet below, the dialogue (paraphrased) goes:

Spock: “Captain, there’s a man down there.”

Jim: “is he a bad man? Is he gonna hurt my ship?”

Spock: “ionno. Maybe?”

Jim: “GET SECURITY, WE’RE BEAMING DOWN.”

So they beam down and encounter a little spaceship. Some guy with the worst beard you’ve ever seen appears on the cliff above them, screams some crazy shit about needing help to hunt a monster/his enemy, then collapses. They take him to the ship.

This guy basically says he’s been hunting a humanoid enemy across space for destroying his civilisation etc, occasionally throughout the episode he “does battle” with the enemy through lengthy, unintelligible effects that occur on screen. Genuinely had no idea what it was supposed to represent for most of the episode.

Spock calls him a fucking liar to his face (amazing), and everyone thinks he’s a nutcase.

Bones treats him for a wound on his head, then just lets him walk out of sickbay. When Jim asks where the guy is (whose name is Lazarus, which they never actually introduce, people just start calling him that), Bones just goes “ionno. Big ship, innit. I’m just an old country doctor.”

IM SORRY? WHAT? Everyone thinks this guy is a bonkers liar who may or may not be connected to the dangerous “winking out” effect, and Bones just let him walk out of sickbay unsupervised?

This guy walks around fucking with sensitive electrics, attacks people in engineering, steals dilithium crystals, and just says “nuh uh, not me”

THERES NO ONE ELSE IT COULD BE

and somehow he never has a security detail on him and is never put in the brig.

He ends up in sickbay AGAIN and Bones literally says “I won’t let him wonder off again”

HE IMMEDIATELY WANDERS OFF. LIKE THEY FORGOT BONES WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING HIM.

Anyway turns out he’s doing battle with a version of himself from an alternate antimatter universe, and they swap places through a “corridor” between the universe, hence only one of them being present at a time. But if they should ever meet in each others actual universes, then all of reality will explode because “if identical matter and antimatter particles meet, they blow up so hard that they’ll destroy literally everything”.

And you could excuse that as “it was the 60s, maybe this was a feasible understanding of antimatter”, except they already had a controlled antimatter explosion in The Naked Time to jump start their engines. Like.

This episode felt like it was written by fucking ChatGPT. The dialogue was so disjointed, made no sense, and didn’t impact things that happened later— like Bones promising to watch Lazarus, then disappearing from the episode entirely.

Like there are “bad” Star Trek episodes that I enjoy (Spock’s Brain), but this one was actually so bad I kept getting angry while watching it. By god. What the fuck.

[astranite]

Static Does Not Mean Still

Scott and Virgil go on a run in a nearby park to burn off some energy after an easy rescue, and the prompt 'Static electricity' is also involved in here somewhere thanks to @gumnut-logic's Unusual Whump List

This is about fluff and joyful brothers getting to run around in the sunshine. And a bit of ADHD Scott and the Hyperactivity. They are having fun and I had fun writing this.

Also thank you to @edutainer2022 for talking about this as a wip, and about Scott getting to put down his burdens and the weight of responsibility for a while to be carefree with his brothers.

---

Any rescues where no one came away bruised, bleeding and/or catastrophically exhausted were always a win in Virgil’s book. This was one of them. 

The engineering foam deployed from Two had stabilised the overpass bridge structure exactly as it was supposed to before further infrastructure damage could be caused, especially to the railway line below, the main concern which had resulted in International Rescue’s call out. 

Virgil had got to put his engineering degree expertise to good use, handover to the local authorities was smooth and professional with plenty of admiration on both sides for how the incident was handled, and no fancy jetpacking was even required to Scott’s disappointment.

It was a great day all in all to be finishing at noon on a Tuesday. The sun was shining, their work for now was done and everyone commuting would be able to get home safely when the rush hour hit in the evening. 

Virgil took off his helmet to put it away with the gear and ran a hand through his somewhat sweaty hair, grinning at Scott as he walked up to him. 

“Hey Scotty.”

“Virge!”

Scott had ditched his helmet as soon as the rescue was over and he got the all clear from Virgil which was a big improvement on protocol following and not taking unnecessary risks. 

In the meantime his hair had fallen into disarray but Scott didn’t seem to mind. He put an arm around Virgil’s shoulders to give him a squeeze before going back to pacing circles on the module floor, gesturing wildly at John’s little hologram as they talked rapid fire. Something, theoretical mathematics, something. Virgil, unlike other members of the family preferred the more concrete and applicable to what was in the world in front of him branches of engineering.

Virgil did also have big brother jittering at his side with pent up energy and a flight home in his green girl that was apparently ‘not nyoooomy enough’ for Scott’s liking to get through without anyone exploding. 

Scott’s hyperactivity wasn’t a bad thing, never had been when it was just how Scott was. Virgil was far happier that Scott was letting it show instead of turning it to inwards frustration and internal stress, but they did have a flight to get through which would be a lot more comfortable for them both without Scott’s frenetic energy vibrating the whole cockpit as he eyed the flight controls like he wanted to tackle them from Virgil’s hands to do aerobatics in a cargo plane. 

Thunderbird One was in for maintenance as Brains and Virgil worked on replacing burnt out engines which meant Scott couldn’t go for the mad loop the looping he favoured to let off steam. Virgil’s ‘bird was a Thunderbird: she was extremely capable and manoeuvrable for her size, but stunt jet she was not designed to be. 

Pulling up a map on his wrist controller, Virgil turned to Scott. “How about we get out for a bit, go for a walk? There’s even a park nearby.”

It’d be a good opportunity to burn off some energy, even if the walk would turn into a run when his brother was involved. Virgil was happy to follow him though.

Scott changed track mid-sentence, charging for the module door as he continued to chatter to an amused John. There was no eye roll from him, only the softest fond smile.

Virgil blinked and Scott was calling back to him. Alright, they were going suited and booted in IR uniforms then. 

“Okay, I’m coming, Scooter!” Virgil had to jog to catch up with those long legs. Predictably.

Scott noticed, of course he did. He was stopped to bump shoulders with Virgil, bouncing on his toes to stay in one spot.

“Short stuff,” he sung out affectionately.

Out under the blue sky, with plenty time to spare and no where to immediately be, Scott was cheerful. John could call them back to Two if they were needed elsewhere but right now they had this. 

Scott spun around laughing his head off when they reached the open park. Virgil couldn’t help but join him, as where else would he want to be but by his brother’s side?

Then Scott set off sprinting down full tilt down the gently sloping grassy area, as Virgil ambled along at a more reasonable pace that gave him the opportunity to look at the native trees in blossom, so different from the ones at home but equally beautiful in his mind. Okay, now he was by his brother’s side metaphorically, even if not physically. 

Still, he began to run too as Scott looped back to return to him, meeting him halfway. Moving his body felt good, even if he wasn’t a compulsive early morning runner.

Scott crashed into him, catching him in a tight hug. Virgil returned it with the same enthusiasm until he lifted Scott’s feet off the ground to spin him around just to show big brother that he had it. The big brother in question cackled with delight.

He leant into Virgil and said quietly, “Thank you. I really needed this.”

Virgil held him close for that moment. “Anytime.”

Then Scott was ready to be off again, or not quite. He bounced from foot to foot, waiting for Virgil to follow as he eyed the empty playground equipment longingly. 

Virgil made a shooing motion. “Go have fun, I’m coming.”

He shook his head fondly as Scott dashed towards the brightly coloured construction. Ever since they were kids, Scott had never been able to resist a climbing frame, or scratch that, any opportunity to climb whether the structure in question was designed for it or not. 

Virgil sent a quick photograph of a joyful Scott mid-flight to John. 

In the seconds it took to do that and read John’s reply of orange hearts, Scott had scaled the towering rope structure, perching himself at the very top, one casual hand wrapped around it to hang on as he waved to Virgil.

John got another photo as Virgil made sure to zoom in far enough to capture Scott’s broad grin.

It would make John’s day; just like him, his space brother treasured every moment of happy Scott. Those photos would find their way into the shared family album sure enough.

Scott’s joy was precious because it was too rare for him to be able to let go of the burdens he carried for long enough to indulge in carefree happiness. That he was simply allowed to, that his brothers and everyone in his life wanted this for him was a novel concept that Virgil watched Scott still struggle to believe in.

As Scott swung his way around the climbing frame, Virgil settled on the swingset, rocking himself slowly as he scuffed out the beginnings of a drawing of One and Two in the dirt with his foot, his hands tapping the notes of an entire orchestra out on the chains. Unlike John, he didn’t try to swing high enough to launch himself into orbit, but Virgil did enjoy it. 

Sharper marks from the edge of his boot formed the action lines streaking away from the wings of a certain rocket plane. The rounder toe was used to sketch out Two’s curved fuselage. He used the tread to add some extra patterning around the Thunderbirds to stand in for blocky clouds streaking by. It was coming along well. 

This was how Virgil wanted to spend his time: making art because he felt like it with Scott close by and having fun where he didn’t have to worry about him.

Or only a little. A sudden yell of, “Ow!” came from the slides. 

From the volume and the high pitch, he judged Scott was surprised, not injured.

Virgil had to check though, but sure enough Scott was rubbing his forehead with a dramatic frown as he glared at a bar near the entrance of the slide. 

“You alright, Scooter?” 

“These are designed for short people,” Scott grumped.

If he was complaining, that meant it really was a minor bump so Scott wasn’t worried about worrying Virgil with it. 

“Anyone’s short next to you,” Virgil teased.

“Hey!” Scott’s indignant cry echoed through the slide tube. 

So did the mutter that followed. “Easy to say for someone who’s not even average height.”

Virgil hummed. He wasn’t going to immediately launch himself off to grab Scott in a headlock. He finished off his drawing, took a photo of it to send to John and so he could keep it, then jumped off the swing carefully to land on clear ground. But they were brothers and he wasn’t going to let the insult to his pride stand uncontested. 

Scott was oblivious, already having turned to climb the tower again to take another turn on the slide, already over his own bump. Virgil followed, clambering up after him, wary of the low bars too ‘cause he wasn’t that short . 

At the top, they met and Virgil grinned at Scott, gesturing for him to go first. Somewhere along the way, probably after getting too hot gambolling about, Scott had rolled down the upper half of his flight suit and tied it around his waist, leaving him in a wrinkled Denver college t-shirt. Virgil’s shirt, but that didn’t matter. The important detail for Virgil’s plot was that his arms were bare and in easy reach. 

Scott disappeared down the slide with a whoop. Virgil went after him, not even pausing to admire the view from the top of the tower over the bright green parklands. He was on a mission. 

Hunching his shoulders in was a precaution as he sat at the beginning of the slide, a just in case as the memory of Gordon’s laughter rung in his ears over the one time Virgl had gotten stuck in a building rubbish chute at demolition turned rescue site trying to slide down it in a ill advised, Scott-like move. Scott probably would’ve pulled it off, he was far too good at insane stunts, but Virgil with his broad shoulders plus his exosuit… hadn’t quite managed it.

“Virge,” Scott called up the slide, laughing, “Do I need to come rescue you this time too?”

Virgil hmphed. By staying right at the bottom, Scott was going to make this very easy for him. Big brother did totally deserve it.

Pushing off, Virgil slid down the slide, leaning into the twists and turns, all the while dragging his gloved hands along the sides. The colours flashed by and he was in all likelihood doing the ‘plotting evil eyebrows’ expression his brothers always caught onto before he could prank them. 

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a poker face! But this time it would be far too late for Scott to do anything about it. Never let it be said only John was capable of devious plots when Virgil could plan them out with an engineer’s precision.

Virgil leapt out of the slide, then he innocently tapped Scott on the arm.

Scott jumped a foot in the air and shrieked, “YOU ZAPPED ME VIRGIE!”

The urge to giggle overpowered him as Scott threw his arms around him in what was half-tackle, half-hug. 

“I got you! I got you good! ”

Scott gaped, twisting to look from Virgil to the slide and back again. “You static shocked me.”

“Wouldn’t’ve worked if you were wearing your suit properly, it would’ve dispersed the charge.”

“Oh come on!”

“You called me short.”

“‘Cause it’s true, short stuff. Always has been. And your hair!!” Scott’s smile spread across his face, big and toothy—

Virgil pouted in an attempt not to grin along. “I’ll zap you again.”

—and most importantly happy .

“You’ll have to catch me first!” 

Scott ran off into the sunshine, watching over his shoulder to make sure Virgil was following. Ever the big brother. Ever there for Virgil, now with more care to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to keep up with, not just for their sakes and admittedly shorter legs, but for his own too.

Virgil followed, of course he did. But he did so laughing, not out of fear he’d be too late.

The afternoon was spent chasing joy under blue skies, surrounded by the green earth, until they both flopped down onto the grass together. Even Scott’s frantic energy had completely dispersed. This time, today, it was because of messing about like they were kids again instead of bone-deep exhaustion from hopeless rescues over too long hours in hostile conditions. Virgil treasured it. 

He treasured every second with Scott, from pulling him eagerly back over to the swings to show him the slightly smudgy sketch of their Thunderbirds flying together as Scott adored them, to stopping to get icecream and waffles in lieu of a proper lunch on the walk back to Two on John’s suggestion.

The flight back home to the Island was carefree, with a take away container of icecream in the module freezer for the others and a cheery Scott by his side, both of them humming then along to the upbeat music playing from the speakers. No attempts to squish his staticky hair back into its usual crest had worked in the slightest, but that didn’t matter when Scott’s was just as ridiculous.

Virgil even let himself get convinced into guiding Two through a few loop the loops. And maybe also a couple of dives. Then some barrel rolls. Only because it amused Scott though; Virgil was not going to give him the fuel for future stunts by telling him that just maybe Virgil loved the adrenaline rush of doing aerobatics in his ‘bird like his brother did too.

---

Hope you had fun reading this :D

Now i feel like I need to go find a slide or some swings and some sunshine too!

[crimsontroupe]

slides in here and poses prettily in your askbox, so hows dia feeling about the orbs right about now and the fact that somewhere out there someones managed to make a machine that drains magical artifacts of all their power

Bad! Mad! I guess because a part of himself knows that 'how is that any different from what I witnessed not too long ago that dealt with me', but most of all he is. Annoyed at this very clear affront to magic. I mentioned that for this entire thing, Dia is Less Concerned about the Starstone Isles and more about the Aeon orbs, unlike Vimara who does not care about the orbs as much.

When he asked "Will this boon deplete the orb of power?", it was way more out of concern about expending such a precious magic item (that in turn would continue to serve humanity) than the concern that the water supply would simply cease to be if he did not interfere.

Not to say a part of his brain wasn't interested in seeing what would happen if he accidentally set it off. But what kind of scientific mind would not look at something with the ability to explode and not even think about letting it happen? He is going to be unusually merciless to a certain buff Xulgath alchemist for more than one reason whenever they meet.

But unrelated hats off to my cute GM for dealing with ME going off about electrical engineering twice in that entire dungeon and just patiently waiting until I finished nerding out to go 'yeah cool but. they want you to magically defuse this bomb'.

[sailorsol]

So most of this is true. We are very good at making things boil to create steam to make the spinny thing give us power. But. We are also very good at making things EXPLODE to make the spinny thing give us power.

This was touched on briefly in regards to internal combustion engines, but this is true for any gas turbine engine. If you cram a bunch of oxygen into a small space and add some fuel and then EXPLODE it, you get a lot of hot air pushing out of that area really quickly, which will make your turbine spin as well. This is a gas turbine, most commonly seen in jet engines, but there are also industrial gas engines (as seen at natural gas power plants, for example) that are basically GIANT jet engines that don't fly.

Part of the reason natural gas is more efficient for energy generation is because you don't have to heat the water to make the steam to turn the turbine to get the power, you just explode the gas. You also get a lot fewer problems with the turbine when steam isn't involved, because steam has a habit of causing pitting on the turbine blades if it isn't dry enough. (Yeah, dry steam is a thing. Try not to think about it too hard else you'll break your brain.) This means having to replace the turbine a lot more often--which is fine if your cooling loop is separate from your primary heating loop, like in most types of nuclear reactors, but if you've got a boiling water reactor, your turbine is exposed to irradiated steam so maintenance becomes a lot harder.

All that being said--we have been using water and wind to generate power for thousands of years. Not electricity, but power, which is really what we're talking about when we talk about making the spinny thing go. Because the spinny thing is creating mechanical power, which is then used to make an electric engine go WEEEEEEEE to give us electric power. But mechanical power can be used directly for things like pumping water or grinding grain or operating bellows to fuel really huge blast furnaces for smelting iron.

Humans have been really good at finding ways to make mechanical power and reduce the amount of energy we are personally required to put into getting that mechanical power. Because humans are relatively weak and generally lazy in the sense that we're always looking for an easier way to do something difficult.

Steam power, in the grand scheme of things, is relatively new, and frankly it took a lot of trial and error (and explosions) before it could be used reliably and efficiently, which is also partly why we don't see things like steam powered cars or nuclear powered jet engines (though they tried, for both). It just isn't efficient or practical. And inherently one of the ways to make steam power more efficient is to pressurize all that lovely boiling water (whatever the heat source), which is where the explosions come in. Think about a bottle of soda exploding, but now imagine that with a giant metal tank and boiling water, and you have the horror of late 19th century steam power. The number of trains and ships that exploded was not inconsequential. There was an entire insurance company created just to deal with steam boilers because no one else wanted to touch them. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers was basically created because a bunch of engineers got together and said "right, there has to be some way to do this without blowing people up" and the pressure vessel regulations came into existence. But that was in 1880, and if you look at the development of steam powered energy, not much has changed except the source of the heat.

(Yes, Vitruvius created a bladeless radial steam engine in ~30 BCE, but you'll note that it never really took off, mostly because it lacked a good way to do anything with all the spinning, like turning a gear shaft.)

So yes. Nuclear power is really no different from coal power, they just use different sources to make sources hot. And steam power is great, but at the end of the day, we have come up with lots of better ways to create power. Steam is just the best way we've found so far to create a lot of power all at once. And with nuclear power in particular, we can get a lot of electrical power out of the system with very little energy being put into it. One uranium fuel pellet that can fit in your hand is equivalent to 40 tons of coal, the size of a large dump truck.

So if you need lots of electrical power, steam is one of your best options. But if you're just looking for mechanical power, there are lots of better options.

nuclear power is impressive until you get up to why. "we use the most precisely engineered machinery ever created to split atoms to release energy" oh yeah how come? "boil water to turn a fan" get the fuck out

[akshitasmcet001]

Jaipur Engineering College Campus Diaries - Real stories from students

Introduction

What Student Stories Mean

You've likely seen brochures touting "world-class infrastructure" or "100% placement," but let's face it - what defines college is the experience of students who have lived through, laughed, and even sometimes cried.

Jaipur's Engineering Vibe

Jaipur's not just palaces and walls in pink. Jaipur is becoming an important hub for students who want to pursue engineering. Top-rated colleges such as MNIT, Poornima College, JECRC, and SMCET are leading the way. Guess what else? The campus life of these cities is as vibrant as their cities.

Jaipur: The Emerging Tech Education Hub

Rise of Quality Engineering Institutions

As a result of the recent growth in the number of B.Tech colleges in Jaipur, the SMCET College became the No.1 Btech College in Jaipur. These colleges nurture not only engineers but also innovators with their state-of-the-art laboratories, a startup-friendly environment, and tech incubators.

The perfect combo: City life + campus life

Jaipur is a unique blend of culture and technology. It is perfect for students who want to focus on their studies and still enjoy life.

The Campus Life

Labs and Lecture Halls

It's not always fun to attend lectures...unless your professor can make them interesting by relating machine learning to cricket, or using memes as part of their presentations. In contrast, labs are the place where learning and mistakes happen.

Coffee and Late-Night Coding

CSE and IT students will tell you that nights are best spent debugging code with stronger coffees and more powerful playlists. Unofficially, coders are known to use the motto "Dark Mode and Dark Circles".

Hackathons and Cultural Festivals

This isn't an event - it's a memory in the making. Students thrive on this mixture of brains and banter, from DJ nights to 224-hour hackathons.

The Real Social Network - Hostels

The roommates who became brothers

Hostel life is a magical experience. One Poornima student said, "I found my roommate through a random allocation, and he now serves as the best man for my wedding."

Midnight Maggi Group Studies

The study groups start with formulae and finish with gossip. Maggi becomes currency. Someone always plays the guitar while you are trying to concentrate.

The Clubs, Councils, and Creativity

Tech Clubs Fueling Innovation

These clubs go beyond extracurricular. These clubs are how students develop their portfolios and resumes. They can even start their businesses.

Cultural and Literary Societies

There are many different types of poetry, including slam, debates, and drama. While preparing for that exam, students discover hidden talents.

Get Industry Exposure and Internships

Jaipur’s Growing Startup Scene

Jaipur is experiencing a boom in its ecosystem. From Sitapura startups to Kukas internships, the city's economy has exploded. Many colleges partner with businesses to provide students with real-world experiences.

What Colleges Do to Support Real-World Learning

Engineering colleges today in Jaipur offer more than just classroom instruction. They also provide resume-building workshops and LinkedIn profile reviews.

The Faculty: Mentors disguised

Beyond Textbooks: Teaching Beyond Textbooks

MNIT and SMCET professors often go above and beyond to help students with their projects, suggest internships, or even prepare them for interviews.

The Real Story of Motivation and Mentorship

Ravi, a student of electrical engineering at JECRC, shared his experience on how the constant coaching from his professor helped him secure a job with Siemens. That's impact!

Celebrate College Festivals

Sphuran, Technoraz, and other tech festivals

Tech fests are a major draw for colleges from all over India. They include coding battles, drone races, and paper presentations.

Colorful Annual Days and Farewells

Fashion shows, singing contests, and tears of goodbye are all part of the annual fest. The seniors leave the fest with inspirational speeches, and the juniors will be inspired.

From strangers to lifelong friends

The First Year Anxiety about Final-Year Bonds

Freshers start with butterflies. By the end of their first year, they have a group, shared memories, and Google Drive notes.

WhatsApp groups and 3 AM Talks

Did you go to college for engineering if you didn't have a hostel-corridor discussion at 3 am about love, life, and career?

Placement Madness

Build your resume and practice mock interviews

Early training and placement are done by the Training and Placement cells. They prepare them with mock interviews, aptitude tests, and coding sessions.

The Campus and the Corporate

Many students have shared their experiences from Flipkart and Infosys to late-night programming to campus placements.

Explore the World Outside of Campus

Cafés, forts and weekend hangouts

Ask any student and they will tell you about weekend trips and missed lectures at Nahargarh and Tapri Central.

Jaipur, a City of Balance

The pink city has a rich heritage, but its youthful culture is also exciting. The best of both is available to students.

Alumni Diaries

College Corridors to Global Corporates

Alumni have gone on to start businesses, work for MNCs and government agencies, or even launch their own. They often give credit to their former school.

Give Back to the Campus

Alumni return to show their gratitude for the guest lectures and donations they received.

The Challenges that StudOvercame

Fighting Homesickness

It is common for students to miss home during their first year. Jaipur will soon feel like your home thanks to friends and good food.

Juggling academics and life

Life in engineering is hard. Students find ways to succeed through time management, support from peers, or even just by winging things!

Seniors offer their advice.

What They Wish They Knew

Don't slack off too much during the first year. This is a trap. "Start building up your resume on Day 1." Enjoy every festival - they won't be around again.

Make the most of your 4 years.

Try new things. Be curious. Network. Rise, fall, and grow. College is all about growth.

Conclusion

Jaipur’s engineering colleges offer more than just degrees and job placements. They are places where dreams are realized, memories are created, and lives are transformed. Every corner, from hostel corridors and coding laboratories, has its own story. Each student can be the author of his or her epic.

You will always remember your stories, whether you are a student or an alumnus.

FAQs

Q1: Which are the best engineering colleges in Jaipur?

A1: MNIT Jaipur, JECRC University, Poornima College of Engineering, and SMCET are top-rated.

Q2: What is student life like in Jaipur’s engineering colleges?

A2: It’s a blend of academic rigour, cultural vibrance, tech exposure, and lifelong friendships.

Q3: Do these colleges offer good placement opportunities?

A3: Yes, top companies visit for campus placements, and many colleges have dedicated placement cells.

Q4: How are hostel facilities in Jaipur engineering colleges?

A4: Most colleges offer well-maintained hostels with mess, Wi-Fi, study areas, and vibrant student communities.

Q5: Is Jaipur a good city for engineering students?

A5: Absolutely! It offers a peaceful yet exciting environment, excellent colleges, and growing industry connections.

[nmietbbsr]

Understanding Mechatronics: A Beginner’s Guide for Freshers

If you’ve just stepped into the world of engineering or are considering which specialization to pursue, you might have come across the term Mechatronics. It sounds futuristic—and honestly, it is. But what exactly is it? Is it mechanical? Is it electronics? Or is it something else altogether?

Let’s break it down and make it simple for you.

What Is Mechatronics?

Mechatronics is an interdisciplinary field that blends mechanical engineering, electronics, computer science, and control engineering. It’s all about designing and creating smarter machines—systems that not only move or perform tasks but also think and respond intelligently.

Think of things like self-driving cars, robotic arms in factories, automated coffee machines, or even drones that maintain stability mid-air. All of these rely on the principles of mechatronics.

This discipline is becoming essential in today’s automation-driven world, especially with the rise of Industry 4.0, where machines communicate with each other to optimize performance without human input.

Why Should You Care as a Fresher?

In the early stages of your engineering journey, it's important to understand where the future is headed. Mechatronics is one of those areas that’s not just growing—it’s exploding.

As a fresher, you might still be figuring out what excites you most. But if you're someone who enjoys blending creativity with technology—imagine coding a program and then watching it control a real robot—this field will likely click with you.

Also, if you eventually want to work in automation, AI-driven systems, or robotics, mechatronics offers you the foundation and flexibility to go in multiple directions.

What Will You Learn in Mechatronics?

Typically, if you pursue mechatronics as a core subject or even as an elective, you’ll dive into areas like:

Sensors and Actuators: Devices that help machines sense their environment and act accordingly.

Microcontrollers and Embedded Systems: The brains of most modern electronic machines.

Mechanical Design: Basics of gears, motors, and structures that move.

Control Systems: How to ensure a robot does what it’s supposed to—no more, no less.

Programming: Often in C/C++ or Python to control the devices.

You may also get your hands on software like MATLAB, Simulink, or Arduino IDE early on.

How to Get Started in College

You don't have to wait till the third year to explore mechatronics. In fact, some colleges start offering related workshops and certifications right from the first year. If you're studying in a place where the labs are well-equipped and faculty are research-active, you'll probably get the chance to work on actual robots or automation systems before you graduate.

During a visit to a lab at NMIET Bhubaneswar, I noticed students working on automated vehicle prototypes that used sensors for obstacle detection. It struck me how mechatronics isn’t just a theoretical subject in such institutions—it’s hands-on and real.

Career Scope: Where Can Mechatronics Take You?

Mechatronics engineers are highly valued in sectors like:

Robotics and Automation

Aerospace

Automobile Manufacturing

Medical Equipment Development

Home Automation and Smart Devices

With increasing reliance on smart systems and AI-driven hardware, companies are actively seeking engineers who can work across domains. This is where mechatronics gives you a massive edge.

Even core mechanical or electrical engineers are now advised to pick up basic knowledge of microcontrollers or coding. So, if you're already in a college that encourages learning beyond your core, you're in the right place.

What Makes a Good College for Mechatronics Learning?

Let’s be honest—your learning environment plays a big role. Access to automation labs, exposure to industry tools, faculty who encourage innovation, and the chance to work on real-world projects—these are the things that matter most.

Some of the top engineering colleges in Odisha are already introducing mechatronics modules in mechanical and electronics streams. The goal is to create engineers who can build, code, and innovate.

It’s always a good idea to look into whether the institute collaborates with industries for internships and whether they have tie-ups for campus placements with companies involved in automation or robotics.

Final Thoughts: A Future-Proof Path

Mechatronics is not just another subject—it’s a mindset. It teaches you to look at machines not just as static components, but as intelligent systems that interact with the world.

As a fresher, you don’t need to master it all at once. Start with basic projects—maybe build a line-follower robot or an automatic light system. Join clubs, take up online certifications, and most importantly, stay curious.

If you’re in an environment where creativity and cross-disciplinary learning are encouraged—like the one I saw at NMIET—you’re already ahead of the curve.

So, if you’re dreaming of working on robots, smart devices, or even futuristic innovations we haven’t seen yet—mechatronics might just be the path you’ve been looking for.

[jgdieselrepairandtowing]

Why Every Heavy-Duty Truck in Hydro Needs JG Diesel's Advanced Diagnostics

If you drive a heavy-duty truck around Hydro, Oklahoma, you know it is not a matter of if trouble will strike, it is a matter of when. Engines strain. Suspensions wear down. Electrical gremlins pop up when you least expect them.

That is why serious truckers around here trust JG Diesel Repairs and Towing for cutting-edge diagnostics before little problems turn into wallet-draining disasters.

Modern rigs need more than old-school wrench-turning. They need smart eyes inside the machine.

The New Era of Heavy-Duty Truck Repair

Years ago, heavy-duty Truck Repair meant a guy with a box of tools guessing what rattled or smoked. Today’s trucks are rolling computers on giant wheels. Diagnosing issues now demands precision.

At JG Diesel, they have invested in top-tier digital diagnostic gear that talks directly to your engine modules, transmission brains, brake systems, and electronic sensors.

Instead of guesswork, you get truth. Instead of trial-and-error repairs, you get fix-it-right-the-first-time solutions.

That means less downtime. Less spending. Longer hauls between repairs.

Six Big Ways JG Diesel Repairs and Towing Leads Hydro’s Heavy Truck Service Game

1. Advanced Engine Diagnostic Scans They catch hidden issues inside the engine long before you notice warning lights.

2. Transmission System Health Checks Shifting rough? Slipping under load? They catch early signs before you are stranded.

3. Brake System Performance Testing Modern brake systems have sensors too. Their scanners ensure your stops stay safe.

4. Mobile Truck Repair Units Equipped with Diagnostics If you break down near Hydro, their Mobile Truck Repair teams bring diagnostic power straight to your site.

5. Honest Reporting Every Time They explain in clear simple language what is wrong and what it will take to fix it.

6. Full-Service Truck Repair Shop Near Me for Heavy Repairs When big jobs are needed, their truck repair shop is ready to tear in and rebuild what is necessary at fair prices.

Why Hydro Drivers Swear by JG Diesel's Diagnostics

Ask around Hydro. You will hear real drivers talk about real experiences.

One customer said they saved a full $8,000 by catching a failing injector pump before it exploded their engine. Another said JG Diesel’s scan caught a transmission overheating issue early enough that a fluid flush and cooler cleaning solved it without a rebuild.

In trucking, small victories like that add up fast.

Keeping your rig rolling strong means catching tiny problems before they become profit-eating monsters.

FAQs About Heavy Truck Diagnostics and Truck Roadside Assistance Near Hydro

How often should I get a full diagnostic scan on my heavy-duty truck? If you haul heavy loads or drive long distances, you should get a full scan every 6 months at least. It helps catch issues early when repairs are cheaper.

Can mobile service units really perform deep diagnostics on-site? Yes! JG Diesel’s Mobile Truck Repair vans carry powerful scan tools that read your truck’s codes and performance data wherever you are.

Do you diagnose electrical problems too? Absolutely. Many heavy-duty truck issues today are electrical. From faulty sensors to wiring shorts, their scanners and expert techs find the real cause fast.

Will diagnostics tell me if my truck needs immediate service? Yes. Good diagnostics reveal urgent problems versus maintenance that can wait. JG Diesel’s team explains the urgency so you can make smart choices.

How much downtime does a full diagnostic take? Full diagnostic runs usually take less than an hour. It is one of the fastest ways to protect your fleet without losing whole days of work.

What if my truck needs a major fix after diagnostics? JG Diesel operates a trusted truck repair shop right near Elk City. Whether it’s injectors, turbochargers, brakes, or cooling systems, they repair it all.

Why Hydro Truckers Keep Coming Back to JG Diesel Repairs and Towing

📍 Address: 315 W 20th St Unit B, Elk City, OK 73644, United States 📞 Phone: +1 (580) 379-0790

When you are gambling 80,000 pounds of steel down Oklahoma highways, guessing is not good enough. You need real diagnostics. You need honest service. You need people who care about your rig like it is their own.

That is why Hydro’s smartest drivers roll with JG Diesel Repairs and Towing. Better service. Faster fixes. Stronger hauls.

Schedule your diagnostic check today and run smarter tomorrow!

[alliance00]

Saudi Arabia’s Booming Manpower Market: Jobs & Hiring Trends

Introduction

Saudi Arabia is going through an unprecedented transformation, and one of the main impetuses behind this is its exploding manpower market. With Vision 2030 clearing the ground for economic diversification, opportunities in the employment market are widening in all spheres. But how will this translate for job applicants and employers alike? Let us have a look at the new hiring trends and how manpower recruitment agencies in Saudi Arabia are facilitating the talent deficit gap.

Overview of Saudi Arabia’s Job Market

Saudi Arabia's job market is among the most rapidly developing in the Middle East. With new companies cropping up and other companies expanding, job opportunities are increasing. Demand for qualified experts in different fields keeps growing on the back of economic diversification.

Major Industries Boosting Employment

A number of industries are boosting the growth of job opportunities, such as:

Construction & Infrastructure – Mega developments such as NEOM and the Red Sea Development are generating thousands of jobs.

Healthcare – Medical centers and hospitals desperately need doctors, nurses, and medical professionals.

Technology & IT – With Saudi Arabia's digital transformation drive, IT experts are in high demand.

Tourism & Hospitality – The tourism drive has resulted in a huge increase in jobs in hospitality.

Government Policies & Vision 2030

Vision 2030 is directed towards minimizing Saudi Arabia's dependence on oil and increasing private-sector employment. Initiatives supported by the government stimulate entrepreneurship, foreign investment, and job opportunities in various sectors.

Wanted Jobs & Competencies

Businesses are desperately looking for experts in:

Engineering (civil, mechanical, electrical)

Healthcare (nurses, doctors, medical technicians)

IT & Cybersecurity (developers, network specialists)

Finance & Accounting (auditors, analysts, CFOs)

Soft skills such as problem-solving, communication, and adaptability are also well sought after in the current employment market.

Saudi Arabia Manpower Recruitment Agencies' Role

Saudi Arabian manpower recruitment agencies are very instrumental in bringing the employer and job seeker together. They facilitate the hiring process for companies to gain the best brains while enabling professional experts to have suitable job positions.

How Saudi Arabia Manpower Recruitment Agencies Work

Recruitment agencies find, filter, and match applicants to vacancies. They specialize in local and global recruitment, managing work visas, interviews, and negotiations for employers and employees.

Manpower Market Challenges

In spite of the employment boom, challenges remain:

Talent Shortages – Some industries lack skilled professionals.

Work Permit & Visa Issues – Complex regulations can slow hiring.

High Competition – Increased job applications make securing a position harder.

The Emergence of Saudization & Its Effect

Saudization (Nitaqat) is a strategy where Saudi nationals are given priority in hiring. This has resulted in a change in the recruitment processes, with companies having to balance expatriate and local recruitment.

How to Get Employed in Saudi Arabia

To increase your chances of employment:

Use Recruitment Agencies – Use manpower recruitment agencies in Saudi Arabia for employment placement.

Upgrade Your Skills – Enhance your capabilities with courses and certifications.

Network – Link with professionals via LinkedIn and job fairs.

Salary and Benefits

Wages differ across industries, experience, and skills. Most businesses provide extra perks such as:

Tax-Free Salary – A significant advantage for expatriates.

Housing & Transportation Allowances – Often included in job offers.

Medical Insurance – Standard in most employment contracts.

Saudi Arabia's Manpower Market Future Outlook

The manpower market will expand with ongoing infrastructure initiatives, technological upgrades, and external investments. Government efforts toward diversification of the economy will bring forth additional jobs in the forthcoming years.

Conclusion

Saudi Arabia's manpower market is booming, promising exciting career challenges in various fields. With its government-led strategy of Vision 2030 steering economic diversification, the hiring needs of skillful professionals keep growing. From an employer perspective or a seeker of employment, it is pertinent to know labor hiring trends as well as utilize manpower recruitment services in Saudi Arabia to navigate this dynamic workforce environment. Alliance Recruitment Agency plays a vital role in helping job seekers and businesses find the right opportunities and talent. As the nation continues to develop, those who learn to adapt and take advantage of new opportunities will prosper in Saudi Arabia’s expanding job market. For further inquiries and recruitment assistance, feel free to Contact Us at Alliance Recruitment Agency.

View source: https://recruitmentagencyfranchise.hashnode.dev/saudi-arabias-booming-manpower-market-jobs-and-hiring-trends