#do your electrical engineering assignment

[jackthebard]

Ok I normally don't comment on things like this, but I HAVE to share the beef that I have with my sophomore year (I was about 15, for our international audiences) Introduction to Electronics teacher.

For the record: I still know this person's name. I can find them on facebook. I have since gone into teaching, myself, and I often think about reaching out to her and dropping her a message saying "Hey. Thank you for teaching me how NOT to be a teacher, you miserable" I'm not going to finish that on Tunglr.fuck.

I made an off-color joke at the start of the year, and she made it personal. She kept on messing with my grades, practically insulting me in the middle of class, and it got to the point where I had to ask my dad for help.

Just to give you a bit of an idea where my dad and I were at in our relationship: At this point in time, he would later tell me that there were moments he wanted to kill me with his own hands. We did not have a good relationship, but I was so A-type brained at the time and wanted to do so well in school that I was willing to ask my dad for assistance even though we were on the rocks. Retrospectively, I think this was what started to mend our relationship.

He helped me with an assignment, and I turned it in. When it was returned, I got 5 points... out of 50.

I returned home on the verge of tears because I was wondering what I had done wrong, how I had messed up. My mother took a look at me, a look at the assignment, and a look at my dad. We all knew how messed up things had been with this teacher, and my parents were daggers drawn against her because she had been screwing me over so bad.

My mother said, "Honey. You're going to have to go into that parent-teacher conference, otherwise she is not going to come out of it alive." Mom was about to be on the news.

So the day of the PTC comes by and I'm sitting in the room with the dean of students, this miserable fucking termagant of a teacher, and my dad is running a little late.

He shows up in his United States Air Force dress blues, captain's insignia proudly displayed on his shoulder, his cover tucked under one arm alongside a blue folder (Dad always said "Important shit goes into the blue folder"). He walks in and sits down. Says hi to me, greets the dean, nothing to the teacher.

He opens the folder and pulls out my homework, slides it across the table and says "Show me where this is wrong."

This rancid bitch, wearing shorts and a t-shirt in contrast to a man in LITERAL MILITARY DRESS, says "I don't think I need to. I'm certified to teach this field, and I'm an expert in Electrical Engineering. If I say the homework is wrong, then it's wrong."

Dad pauses. Reaches back into his folder. Pulls out another piece of paper. Slides it across the table.

"I am," my old man says, "A NASA certified Electronics Technician. I did this assignment with him. If you are not able to produce a matching level of certification or show me where this is wrong, you have two options: Either you fix my son's grade, or I will have your job."

She changed the assignment to 50/50.

But she still didn't pass up an opportunity to throw me under the bus when she was legally allowed to get away with it.

Anyways! Fuck that bitch, may her pillow always be warm, her meals always be unsatisfying, and may she get stood up on every date she goes on.

does everyone have a teacher that they still have beef with/ hold a grudge against today??

[erikabsworld]

Navigating the Complex Terrain of Electrical Engineering Assignments: A Comprehensive Guide

Welcome, aspiring electrical engineers! If you've found yourself grappling with a challenging electrical engineering assignment and are desperately searching for guidance, you're in the right place. In this blog, we'll tackle a tough assignment question that often stumps students, offering a step-by-step guide to help you navigate through the complexities without drowning in a sea of formulas. So, gear up, and let's dive into the intriguing world of electrical engineering problem-solving.

The Challenging Question: Consider a circuit with multiple resistors, capacitors, and inductors, interconnected in a complex configuration. You are tasked with analyzing the circuit's behavior under various conditions, including transient and steady-state responses. The question requires a comprehensive understanding of circuit theory, time-domain analysis, and Laplace transforms.

Question: Analyze the given circuit's response to a step input, providing insights into its transient and steady-state behaviors. Additionally, determine key parameters such as time constants and resonance frequencies.

How to Approach the Assignment:

Understanding the Circuit Components: Begin by identifying the various components in the circuit – resistors, capacitors, and inductors. Create a schematic representation to visualize the connections and relationships between these elements.

Transient Analysis: Break down the problem by first focusing on the transient response. Apply fundamental principles of circuit analysis to determine the time constants associated with the circuit. Use these time constants to understand how the circuit responds during the initial period following a step input.

Laplace Transform Techniques: Employ Laplace transform techniques to simplify the circuit equations. This enables a smoother transition from time-domain analysis to frequency-domain analysis. Derive expressions for voltage and current in terms of Laplace variables.

Steady-State Analysis: Explore the steady-state behavior of the circuit. Identify resonance frequencies and analyze how the circuit responds to sinusoidal inputs. Understand the impact of various parameters on the circuit's frequency response.

Numerical Simulations: Leverage simulation tools like SPICE to validate your analytical findings. This step is crucial for verifying your theoretical calculations and gaining a practical understanding of the circuit's behavior.

How We Can Help:

If you find yourself overwhelmed by the intricacies of this assignment or any other electrical engineering task, fear not. Our website at matlabassignmentexperts.com is dedicated to providing comprehensive assignment help for students like you. We are here to do your electrical engineering assignment for you. Our team of experienced electrical engineering experts is ready to assist you in understanding concepts, solving problems, and delivering high-quality assignments. We offer personalized guidance tailored to your specific needs, ensuring you not only complete your assignments but also enhance your understanding of complex electrical engineering topics.

Conclusion: Tackling challenging electrical engineering assignments may seem like a daunting task, but with the right approach and support, you can navigate through the complexities successfully. By breaking down the problem, applying fundamental principles, and utilizing resources like our assignment help website, you can not only complete your assignments but also gain a deeper understanding of electrical engineering concepts. So, go ahead, do your electrical engineering assignment with confidence!

[f1girliefics]

Burning Rubber, Beating Hearts

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: When Charles Leclerc joins Dancing with the Stars: Monaco as a celebrity contestant, he's way out of his element, until his dance partner helps him find his rhythm both on the floor and in his heart.

Charles Leclerc was used to speed, not steps.

He’d mastered the roar of an engine, the pressure of a tight corner, and the glittering chaos of a podium finish.

But here he was, standing in a rehearsal studio in Monte Carlo, staring at the full-length mirror and the perfectly poised dance instructor assigned as his partner for Dancing with the Stars: Monaco Edition.

You.

He recognized you, of course.

You were a professional dancer, graceful, confident, and often dazzling across televised ballroom stages.

He, on the other hand, hadn’t worn anything tighter than a race suit in his life, and the concept of “graceful” didn’t apply to his feet.

“Okay, Charles,” you said, clipboard in hand, hair swept up in a practical ponytail. “Have you ever danced before?”

“Unless awkward wedding dancing counts, no.” He grinned sheepishly.

You laughed, and the sound made something stir in him. “That’s okay. We’ve got time. And I’m very good at making race car drivers look like they know what they’re doing.”

He chuckled, trying not to stare too long. You weren’t just beautiful, you were electric.

The kind of person who moved like the world followed their rhythm.

The first week of practice was… humbling.

He stepped on your toes.

Tripped over invisible air.

Fumbled his frame.

He got frustrated but you were patient. Patient in the way that made him feel like he wasn’t failing, just learning.

“You’re used to speed,” you said one evening, as you helped him perfect a spin. “But dance isn’t about speed, it’s about trust. With your partner. With the music. With yourself.”

He glanced at your hands, still resting lightly on his waist. “That’s hard for me.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. “But you’re not doing this alone.”

Somewhere between the tango rehearsals and the late-night choreography sessions, something began to shift.

He looked forward to seeing you more than the applause of the audience. He found excuses to stay after rehearsal, to talk, to laugh, to sit next to you in the dressing room and listen to your stories about growing up dancing in small studios before making it big.

One night, after a long session, Charles caught your hand as you were leaving.

“You’re the best thing about this experience, you know,” he said softly. “Not the show. Not the dances. Just… being with you.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time since you met, you didn’t have anything choreographed to say.

You squeezed his hand. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charles.”

When the night of the finale arrived, the entire ballroom glittered with anticipation.

The stars, the judges, the roaring crowd.

Charles, dressed in a deep red suit, stood beside you with nerves he hadn’t felt since his first F1 race.

Their final dance was a waltz.

Romantic, intimate. Just the two of you gliding across the floor as if nothing else existed.

The crowd faded. The cameras disappeared.

All he could see was you.

And when the music stopped, and the audience stood in thunderous applause, Charles didn’t think twice.

He turned to you, heart in his throat, and said, “Dance with me outside this room, too?”

You blinked, breathless from more than just the routine. “What took you so long?”

He laughed and kissed you right there, with all of Monaco watching.

The trophy sat forgotten in his apartment.

But every morning, he danced with you in the kitchen, barefoot, music low, coffee brewing in the background.

Charles Leclerc had won plenty of races in his life.

But nothing compared to winning your heart.

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 4

Ayyyyy! How is everyone! I am almost done with all my uni work for the semester and I am rapidly approaching my first exam. But it’s alright cause at least I got one of my projects to work. I had to make a wireless power transfer using copper wires and I spend a whole day going back-and-forth between the floors of my department in search for some copper (someone pls say sike rn). Now tell me why me and my team spent a whole day just to create the simplest of circuits, all because our transistors kept burning up. The stench in that room from burned electrical components was insane (these r your future engineers btw). We probably went through 10 different transistors (rip to our lab resources).

Well I hope everyone is doing good and everyone is safe and healthy! I wish all of you to reach your full potential and live your best life!

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Cancer moon: you guys r cutie patooties that just want emotional closeness from the people around you. Generally if evolved you guys r so beautiful. You are caring, giving, emotionally mature and are able to express yourself in a healthy manner. they r the type to pay attention to the little details. I’ve noticed a pattern with cancer moons that their love language is words of affirmation. Buuuut and there is a big but here, if you guys are not evolved, y’all r hell on earth. Imagine a sensitive, emotionally constipated, demanding ticking bomb. Cancers r truly crash outs if not evolved. They will want the world from you and give nothing in return. You will have to pull through emotionally in the relationship and you will have to walk on eggshells around them.

Chiron 12h: these people most likely dealt with a lot of religious/spiritual trauma. They never felt truly connected to the divine or they have an unhealthy relationship with the divine. A lot of the people I’ve met have been struggling with accepting themselves and the divine at the same time. It is a hard placement. I love you guys so much and I just want to say that it’s alright to take your time and figure yourself out. Sometimes this is a lifelong journey and instead of running away from your scars, it’s better you face them. Whether you decide to connect with religion/spirituality or not, make sure that is your choice. You are the only one in charge of that. There is no shame in either choice so don’t let people tell you otherwise. Lots of love to you xoxo

Libra moon: for these natives, having balance in their life is very important. It’s extremely common for these people to get overwhelmed if they work too much without proper rest. Like balance is rllyyy that serious to them. I’ve seen these people get extremely stressed when something feels off in their life. I have a friend that crashes out (bless her soul) whenever she has too many assignments. She’s a demon during exam season if she needs to pull all nighters. They also crave a sense of stability in their relationships with people and they rlly don’t like to argue w people. Sometimes this urge to keep peace with people leads to them not vocalising their problems making them stay in relationships for way longer than they should. They also have a strong sense of justice!!! I love learning ab my friend’s placements so I can know how to make em feel safe and happy. Muaw xoxo

Lilith Taurus: these people often tend to get insecure of their financial status. They deeply cared about how they r perceived financially by people. They might even get to the point where they might want to appear richer than they are. They might have experienced loss of stability and monetary assets through their life that led them to these traits. BUUUUT, if they move on from placing their whole value as a human being on their assets, they have a great potential for actually achieving that financial status they so deeply yearn for. These people need to learn how to balance their confidence and self worth and accept themselves for who they are. Also they might have a tendency to get greedy, so be aware of that as well darlings.

Lilith 9h: these people often feel the need to move from place to place. They might want to change their country of residence quite often . You guys never feel truly fulfilled with where u r at. Maybe travelling is a good alternative if you don’t have the financial means to constantly move. These natives just get that stimulus from changing their environment. As long as you balance your life, you should be good, but be aware of overindulging in the need to cross every boundary. Just make sure the choices you are making are actually good and not just a temporary solution for a bigger underlining issue.

So guys this is all for today! I hope you guys liked this blog as well. I won’t be very active due to the exam season but I will try my absolute best to post as many things as possible! If you guys r interested is seeing a certain type of content let me know!

Stay healthy and glowing xoxo

[tammyu-2]

tmnt 2012! donnie, mikey and raph (seperately) x gn! reader headcanons pretty pls! the reader is super smart which led them to skip a couple grades and is in college (still the turtles' ages tho) and is in a band where they play electric guitar (and secretly write songs about their boyfriend)!! 🎀

This sounds very cute!!

2012 TMNT DONNIE, MIKEY, AND RAPH WITH A SMART BAND GEEK S/O

Swearing, I wrote this half asleep, quick drabble,not proofread read, Usage of They/them pronouns, half rushed.

We are clocking in and we are locking in

DONNIE

You were busy studying in your dorm when you decided to go for a 3am coffee run at the near by Cafe that was next to Campus. It would make sure you finished your assignment with the little power you were working on. So when you walked over to the cafe you saw it was closed due to maintenance with made you groan.

On your way back to your dorm you can't wind of someone staring at you. You reached for your pepper spray in your bag to only realize you had forgotten it on your desk. So when you were caught helpless in an alleyway with a clearly drunk man threatening you, you had been trying to calculate the perfect way out. However your tain of though was cut short by a humanoid turtle swooping in and kicking his ass.

Eventually you and Donnie got quite acquainted with as friends (although Donnie did have a massive crush on you). He would on and on about the smart chick he met that was studying in a real collage that he could only dream of doing. Donnie knew you were smart but not exactly better than Donnie smart.

"I can't seem to figure out what's wrong with my formula! The equation looks alright but the answer is all wrong and is making my gadget bug!"

"I can help..?"

"Oh no. I don't think this level of...engineering is something you'd um...fully understand."

This boy did not- oh my days he did.

"Let me look at your formula anyway."

You said looking at the whiteboard infront of his and examining the equation. Before taking his marker and correcting it.

"You see here you forgot to divide with the 0.42 because in this side equation you square rooted it to 2 but didn't put it under the 5 that you left alone. So that should be correct"

I don't do math so apologies if this makes no sense

Donnie boy was speechless and he tried to stutter out a sentence but kept failing leading him to give up on words completely. He fixed his machine using the method you corrected and you actually fixed it! He turned to you with flustered expression. No one has ever actually understood him but you did in more ways than one. Including when it came to having smarts.

Ever since then you guys have little study dates where you show him human studies that he oh-so wants to be apart of. And in return he gives you free range of his lab whenever you need to make something. He trusts you enough because he knows now your far from being stupid enough to mess it up.

He started respecting you much more and that was the thing that pushed him to confess to you and you two were a genius power couple. You guys were finishing each other's sandwiches (or sentences or whatever)

"WOW your so cool. What else have you been hiding from me? I'm sure there's nothing h-hotter- or um c-cuter than you being as smart as me."

"So about that..."

You explain that you recently started a band and it was making it to bigger and bigger gigs than before.

"YOUR IN A BAND!? MY GOSH HOW COOLER CAN YOU GET!?"

"I play the electric guitar...?"

Donnie.exe has stopped working.

When you get more comfortable with each other you sometimes have dates where you two are alone cuddling up on Donnie's bed as you strum your guitar testing the notes out lazily. You two being full of pizza and slowly drifting off in each other's side....with an electric guitar inbetween.

Whenever you have a concert he always comes to watch you in the shadows or disguised just to support you by showing interest in your growing career. Cause he really adored you.

MIKEY

He had met you at a abandoned skate park. You two immediately hit it off and He was ofcourse extremely clingy to you. He bragged on and on about you to the ninjas. You were a cute duo

"Is butter a carb?"

"Yes it technically is."

"Whats a carb?"

"So basically a carb stands for carbohydrates and what it is is a-"

You always explain things to him that he never remembers. It didn't matter you liked explaing stuff to him and he liked the way your energy spiked whenever explaining something.

He doesn't really think about you being smart that much when in comes to your relationship. Cause he litrally has a brother that is as smart but more rude and sassy about it.

On the day Mikey confessed to you, you were about to go out and get snacks for a movie night for your new boyfriend. However you phone rand interrupting your planning of your date. It had been one of your band members- wait shit! You were late to practice.

"I'm so sorry! But I'm running late for band practice.."

"YOUR IN A BAND-"

The next time you two met up you explained your band to him and Mikey had stars in his eyes. He kept on loudly saying how sick it is to be in a band! Not to mention a guitar. A ELECTRIC GUITAR

If you allow him to hold you guitar he will be jumping up and down excitedly. Like man is not sitting still at all! If you even teach him how to play he is basically on cloud nine. Oh my gosh how did he meet you!?

He takes every chance he gets to brag about you to not only the ninjas but also the bad guys. Like he's over here swooning of the thought of you while a kraang is being beat up by him.

"UGH I miss my s/o they are so amazing. Do you know they guitar AAANDDD THE GUITAR! Which is extremely dope in my opinion. "

He sighs softly, kicking another kraang that was charging at them. Knocking it over.

"The one that is known as s/o is not in the database that the ones known as kraang had mad."

"*sigh* they also had a name..."

"MIKEY OH MY GOD HELP US!?"

RAPH

He met you only after he had a mental break down and needed to release his tension by beating up things. Preferably bad guys but Raph wasn't picky. So when he found you in an allway he took the chance not caring about his looks.

You were a bit freaked out when a giant turtle appeared out of no where and started flirting with you. And after you got to know him and his brothers you two started dating.

I won't lie I think he likes that your smart and everything but if go full on Donnie mode and explain stuff to him as if he didn't know how to walk on his own two feet– then he will be pissed at you. He is the type to roll his eyes and look away bit the minute you stop rambling he will ask you why you stopped.

So now the elctric guitar situation. The one day you were watching Raph train you got sent a picture from your drummer of your band. They had gone away for the weekend and was returning him. You smiled at you phone and told Raph wich made him pause.

"YOU PLAY THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!?"

"Yes I do!"

"...holy shit your so hot.."

He wants to be serenaded but her will never tell you that. He knows about the songs you wrote for him because he found on of them when he visited you at your dorm. He thought it was cute and left it alone in hopes that you would sing it to him one day.

But I swear if any found out about his mushyness, especially you, then his reputation with be damaged for the rest of his life and he will have to runaway and change his name.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ITTTTTTT

I will get t you request tomorrow I am planning on posting three things tomorrow!!

But yeah hope you enjoyed- I'm falling asleep as I'm typing this so sorry for the spelling mistakes.

~Tammy<3

[sexydoffyman]

Weird request but how would TF141+König and Alejandro react to meeting an orphan around 15 years of age who's like extremely talented in engineering, mathematics and physics, like they could build a rocket if they had the materials ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It can be HC, whatever you want! I was thinking maybe said orphan got in trouble with the government for unknowingly building some sort of weapon, maybe it was stolen? Twist that however you wish.

Just ignore this ask if you wanna <3

A KID?

genre: action

characters: König, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle Garrick

A/n: expect a lot more mistakes. Also thinking this needs a second part.

It’s been 6 years now since the war began. You were left stranded. All by yourself. Left on your own by everyone. Living was hard, but you pulled through. You learned how to do a lot of shit since you were there only with yourself for some time. Building stuff. That was your biggest interest.

You were constantly making things. New weapons mostly. You were always moving, never staying in one place for too long. You got brutal throughout the years you were alone. You took the uniform of a dead soldier. To blend in. You were mistaken for a recruit and pulled inside a helicopter by a military dude.

The military was a great provider of food and healthcare. So you just went along with everything they threw at you. Your knowledge of building shit helped out a lot. And even when some dude figured out you were a kid he let you stay.

The same dude put you in a task force with a man he trusted. You were cautious of everyone in there, but at least you had some people who you could trust a bit.

You picked up how things work from the years of pretending to be a soldier. Pretending to be an adult was getting easier and the task force you were assigned to found a place in your heart.

“There’s gotta be a way.” You finally snapped out of thinking about life before the war. You thought that the military would be a great cover. But now all your hope of making it out alive hit zero. You were stuck and with gas slowly filling the room that you and the others were in you knew your chances of survival were low.

You sat in the corner of the room. You had given up a few minutes ago already. The others were still trying to figure something out.

Suddently you felt something inside of you snap. You were not gonna die today. It must’ve been the panicking of the rough men infront of you that made you have that feeling. You started to search for a solution.

You found a small vent. It was too small to fit a grown man in, but you were not a grown man. You took off your gear and crawled into the vent unnoticed by your team.

You finally got to use the skills you gained. You crawled through the vent and dropped down from the ceiling right on the other side of a door that the rest of your team was trying to open. You managed to get inside some kind of an electrical system. You cut some wires and reconnected some other ones. The door opened with a space in between the doors just a centimeter big.

Grabbing a metal piece from the electrical you prayed the door open. You were met with the looks of your crew. You looked down and put your hand above your forehead to block your face. By now all of them realized that you weren't of age.

You ran into the room to grab your gear while your team gave each other a disgusted glance. “We need to get out of here ASAP,” you said as you walked away from the room. Price grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you. You turned to him with your mask on now.

“How old are you?” he was looking at you worriedly while he said that. You didn’t know what to answer and so after a few stutters you answered “Classified” This only made them feel more curious.

It has been days since that mission and nobody brought up the fact that you were a kid. You did notice that Price stopped shouting orders at you and started just saying them in a normal calm tone. Soap was making more small talk with you than usual. Ghost was staying closer to you, knowing you might not be able to fend off an enemy. Gaz was making sure to double-check your gear.

When you teamed up with Mexican special forces and met Alejandro you were given tasks that you’d be on with multiple people.

When you were stranded from the team, finding your way to a spot they could locate you at, you met another dude. Austrian and huge. Big dude. He was your enemy, but it didn’t take him long to find out that an adult dude would have a little more strength than you did. He forced your mask off and found out that you were in fact a kid.

Instead of killing you, he spared you. Helping you locate your tram instead of them having to look for you.

Would you survive the next missions? That you don’t know. But you do know that you don’t have to worry about pretending to be an adult.

[llumetrii]

missed you

Miguel O'Hara x reader. Just a fluffy blurb inspired by this post

Miguel's personal lab held a noticeably different energy compared to the rest of the Spider-Society. Soft blue light cascaded from the high ceiling where forgotten engineering projects were tucked away in the shadows. It was quiet as you entered, save for the muted hum of the electrical wiring that snaked around the room. The large lab was a reliable place to find stillness after the intense missions you were assigned to, and an even more reliable place to find one of your favorite people.

Miguel stood on his platform in the middle of the room, his rigid back and shoulders facing you. The ever-present, golden holo-screens floated around his tall figure, his attention solely focused on the information displayed on each one.

You smiled at the sight of him, your chest feeling just as warm as the fresh coffee in your hand. It seemed he hadn't sensed your presence yet, since he continued working quietly as you approached.

"Hey, Migs." You called in a gentle greeting.

He turned at the sound of your voice, surprise flickering over his face before a familiar weariness settled over. "Hey, cariño..." He murmured, the words leaving his lips in a relieved breath. His features softened as he fully faced you.

You stepped onto the platform, holding up the coffee cup as you smiled wider. "I brought you coffee."

His gaze drifted down to the cup and he reached out to gently take it from your fingers. An appreciative smile ghosted over his lips. "Thank you, amor."

He set the coffee on his desk and reached out to pull you against his muscled chest, his strong arms wrapping around your figure. You melted in his grasp, inhaling his familiar scent and leaning into his warmth. His head tucked down against your hair and he drew a slow, calming breath, then expelled it out in a way that seemed to loosen the weight on his shoulders.

You gave him a squeeze. "You doing alright?" Your head angled from his chest to look up toward his face.

"Mhm."

His muted and robotic response caused your eyebrows to rise in doubt. You moved your head slightly, attempting to nudge him out of your hair and coax out a real answer. "Really?"

He adjusted his head instead, turning his face to press his cheek against your ruffled hair with a noncommittal hum. His hands snaked tighter around you, keeping you pressed against him. "I missed you." He finally mumbled, so softly you barely caught the words.

A little smile grew on your face, and a fuzzy feeling budded in your chest. "Yeah? I missed you, too." Your arms gave him another affectionate squeeze. "Sorry, I couldn't come in earlier. That mission with the new recruit went a bit longer." You added.

He hummed again, and his voice muffled in your hair. "It's fine."

His body curled over yours, his head dipping lower to your shoulder as your hands caressed his broad back. Little by little, he was relaxing against you, like icy snow melting away under the soft morning sun of spring.

"You wanna sit down?" You suggested gently.

Without a word, he shuffled backward, finding his chair with one hand and sinking into it with a sigh. He wasted no time tugging you onto his lap to cling to you once more, his face properly buried in the curve of your neck now.

The two of you relaxed in each other's arms, content to settle in the silence. You slid a hand up to gently scratch Miguel's scalp, and he sighed, tilting his head just enough to press his lips against your shoulder.

A quiet hum of satisfaction rose from your chest. You turned your face and kissed his cheek, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone and relishing in the way your bodies rested so naturally against one another.

"So sweet." You murmured as you gazed at him. "And pretty."

One of his crimson eyes cracked open, his fingers clutching you a little tighter. "Pretty? You're the pretty one." He mumbled.

You pulled back and smiled at the sight of his warm, tired gaze, his relaxed features, and the softness of his lips. You brushed your fingers through his hair affectionately. "Doesn't mean you can't be pretty, too." You leaned in, your voice dipping in a teasing manner. "Pretty boy."

He huffed an amused breath from his nose and shook his head, wrapping you in against his chest again. "Come here." He muttered, pressing his face back into your neck to hide the red tint on his cheeks. Your resulting laughter left him feeling light and fluttery inside, which was all he needed after a stressful day.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere sugar daddy made me giggle with him buying me a car 🚗 Cuz I can’t drive…This then led me to think how fucked I am in a relationship with any of your yanderes cuz I’m practically a sitting duck 🦆 What am I going to do if I wanna get away from them? Wait on the side of the road to take a public transport bus? 🚌 Or do I gotta bike my way to freedom? 🚲 😭

Speaking of vehicles though…for the yanderes that this question is appreciable…what’re the cars they drive vs. the dream car or car that you think fits their aesthetic? 🚗

Also who’s ok with me being their cute lil passenger princess? 👑

girl, it's so embarrassing but I can't drive either 😭

Atp, I think we'll need to Uber our way to freedom. Tip the drive 100% in case of damages caused by deranged exes.

Yandere boys and their cars

Yandere! Boyfriend definitely drives a Jeep wrangler. He's a big guy and he needs the extra space. I also see him as the more outdoorsy type, so a Jeep is perfect for all his hiking and climbing gear. He loves his car for the sole reason that you like sitting shotgun in summer, the roof down and your hair blowing in the wind. It makes for a damn pretty sight.

Yandere! State Trooper is assigned one of those State Police Dodge Challengers. All American muscle that thrums up through the seats. If there's ever a car chase or an evading suspect, he's first on the scene. On quiet nights, he'll head to the highway and gun it. V8 engine roaring even louder than the sirens. He's not supposed to, but he likes taking you for a drive now and then. He likes the way you cling to the dash and shake when he blows through the speed limit.

Yandere! Cop is a certified Ford pickup kind of guy. It's got space, it's got power but most importantly, it doesn't stand out. This is Middle America baby, they're everywhere. When he follows you, he knows for a fact you won't notice him. His only customization is the extremely tinted windows. Can't have you seeing his face when he takes all those pictures of you, now can he?

Yandere! Academic Rival has trustfund money to spend and his daddy's whole garage to choose from. For everyday, I can see him driving a BMW or Audi roadster. Sleek, sporty and modern. But on the weekends, when he's driving up the coast to his country house, he's definitely taking something vintage. He has a whole collection of luxury old money convertibles - every single one of them something you expect to see at St. Moritz.

Yandere! Mobster drives a Cadillac Town Sedan. It's got a powerful engine to outrun the pigs and plenty of trunk space to stash smuggled alcohol. He absolutely adores taking you on long drives. Windows open to catch the fresh air, picnic basket on the back seat, your head resting on his shoulder on the way home... What's not to love?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy is new money. And a tech nerd. So I see him mostly driving electric cars, maybe a Porsche Taycan for 'everyday use' (who the hell drives a Porsche like a regular commuter car? Your Croesus rich boyfriend, that's who). And something extra luxurious for weekends and date nights - probably something like the Yangwang U9. He loves messing around with the extra features and plugging the cars into his computer diagnostic system. Surprisingly, he's not that fond of actually driving. He much prefers you do it and let him enjoy the scenery.

Yandere! Werewolf drives a vintage cherry red Mustang. He bought it cheap off an older guy who hated the repairs, and spent all summer working on it. By extension, that meant you spent all summer sprawled across the backseat, thumbing through fashion magazines and listening to golden oldies on the radio. It's got plenty of space and if he was the kinda guy to make a move on a girl at the drive in, this would be the car to do it in.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

₊❏❜ ⋮[ 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 ]⌒

You awaken to static that permeates more than just your vision-it thrums insistently within your mind. A fizzing hum envelops you, reminiscent of thousands of tiny cicadas creating a symphony behind your eyes. Breath is unnecessary, and blinking is a forgotten action. Instead, your head tilts at an unearthly angle, an unnatural slow-motion scan of your surroundings beginning.

Ruins stretch out before you-an endless expanse of gray under a dilapidated ceiling with light bleeding through cracked metal like blood through a wound. Shadows dance furtively, shifting as four figures retreat slightly, their expressions a mix of disbelief and astonishment.

"What the hell is that-" one of them spits, a beefy figure with heavy boots and hands balled into fists. He exudes a sense of raw power-not yet hostile, merely loud and brash.

"Ken, you kicked it," another groans, this one a small, slim figure adorned with a crooked smile and vibrant, red eyes. Her voice crackles like the surface of a well-worn vinyl record-nostalgic and charmingly battered, yet imbued with an insatiable curiosity. She's the one who planted the chip inside you, igniting an ember where there had been none.

Your legs twitch as they unfurl from the strange position they've been in, long and eerily smooth, stretching out like fine strands of metal. Your hands flex, fingers clicking into an articulated shape, fitting together like pieces of an abstract puzzle. You are tall-towering over your previous self, or perhaps towering over a past you can no longer grasp.

A glimmer of sunlight caresses your chest, and instinctively, you glance downward. Armor-sleek and glossy-wraps around you like a second skin, a shield reflecting the fractured light. A smooth screen occupies the place where your face should be, and within your chest cavity, a hum resonates as if a quiet engine purrs beneath the distortion, carrying warmth-a comforting familiarity.

Tentatively, you attempt to speak, yet your voice bursts forth in glitches, reminiscent of a warped cassette tape. "...H-hel... lo?"

The girl- Mel -steps forward, her interest piqued. "It can talk?"

The third figure, a wiry guy with exaggeratedly large red eyes, makes a bold advance, excitement thrumming through him like an electric current. "Can it dance?" he adds with a snort of laughter.

"Maybe don't provoke the potentially sentient murder-machine?" the fourth quips, a zombie wearing a dusty detective-like jacket and sporting a melting green face, lurking behind a crate as if sheltering himself from the chaos unfolding.

Confusion reigns in your mind as the chatter swirls around you. A wave of static crashes against your thoughts, accompanied by echoes of distant laughter-images of sunlight, warm embraces, parents, and blurred faces drifting further into oblivion.

You blink (symbolically and with effort). "...Name...?" you rasp, each word slipping from your voice box like a garbled disc. "Do I... have one?"

Mel tilts her head, her expression softening amid the sharpness of the moment. "You don't know who you are?"

In response, you shake your head slowly, static crackling through the motion like a fragile wire. "I was... in a field. Then... dark. Then..."

You look down again at your hands; these appendages are unfamiliar to you. You are-indeed-an enigma, a puzzle you cannot solve.

She crosses her arms, contemplating. "Well. You woke up smiling. Kinda." Her brow furrows slightly, aware that your face is merely a screen with very large and unnerving eyes in place of a typical visage. "And you've got a screen for a head..." Her lips twist into a playful grin. "We'll call you TV Head for now."

You blink, processing what she has just assigned you-a name, a label. It feels like a placeholder, yet it carries a certain resonance.

"TV Head..."

You repeat, your voice still distorted but managed with newfound steadiness. You tap the side of your face-your screen-with a mechanical curiosity, marveling in a moment of clarity. "That... is me."

The four of them exchange glances, a web of silent communication weaving between them, one you cannot decipher. Then, with a heavy sigh, Ken breaks the silence.

"We're not takin' it home."

"Yes, we are," Mel counters, her tone firm. "You broke it, and it imprinted on me."

"I didn't-!" Ken throws his hands up in exasperation. "Fine. But if it starts talking backwards or eats one of us in our sleep, I'm dropping it off a cliff."

You remain motionless as they continue to argue. Not out of fear, but because your mind is in overdrive, processing every detail.

The world is decidedly different. The air is tainted with the scent of rust instead of flowers. The breezes carry no melodies, and the ground below lacks warmth.

Yet they... they feel alive. Even in their stitched, fractured forms, there's a vitality that emanates from them.

Perhaps you are, too.

Inside you, something flickers-like sunlight filtering through the veil of an old memory, promising that there could still be remnants of the one who once danced freely in fields of green.

You just have to survive long enough to find it.

With (Y/n)-or rather, TV Head-an intimidating and lanky tall entity now tagging along like an awkward, towering lost puppy, the journey to the Smiling Dead's run-down car was slow and full of curious glances. Not from strangers-they were far out of sight in these rusted wastes-but from the mismatched crew themselves.

TV Head followed just a little behind, the screen of their face flickering occasionally with static lines and soft glowing shapes. Their voice came out in slow, drawn-out distortion, like it had been dragged through an old cassette tape and stitched back together. Yet each garbled word carried a strange warmth, as if they were trying to show their gratitude.

"...Th-th... ank... y-yo... u..."

Melancholy Hill, whom TV Head promptly nicknamed Mummy Girl, turned slightly to glance back at them. She didn't seem to mind the name. If anything, she seemed amused by the way this glitchy stranger perceived the world. With her pale blue skin, ginger hair, and thick white bandages wrapped around most of her body, she looked more like a mummy cosplay than anything undead. But TV Head saw her as something oddly human. Familiar.

Next was her brother-non-blood-related-who, to TV Head's utter confusion and admiration, appeared to be made entirely out of... bread. A literal loaf, with eyes and a mouth, casually adjusting his hoodie as they walked. He had introduced himself as Breadhead, but the nickname Bread Man stuck in TV Head's glitching processor.

Then came the uncle, Mud. TV Head didn't quite understand what he was. His face looked like it was melting right off his skull, and his dull, swampy-green skin stretched loosely like wet clay under a cowboy hat. Add the cigarette permanently attached to his mouth and a wrinkled suit like he'd slept in a coffin, and TV Head decided on Mr. Melting Face.

Last, but certainly not least, was the towering, half-naked man who introduced himself with a glare and a growl: Ken "The Butcher." His scarred, muscular body was intimidating enough, but what really sealed the name Mr. Butcher Knife in TV Head's system was the actual knife sticking out of his skull. That, and the fact he was wearing an apron and only a single undergarment beneath it. Covered in blood. Lots of blood.

They reached the car. A black limousine with the attitude of a coffin on wheels. The immediate problem became apparent.

"...It's not gonna fit," Breadhead muttered, eyeing the 8'5" figure.

TV Head tilted their head in anticipation. They weren't worried.

"We're not leaving it behind," Mel declared. "We brought a friend. We're taking a friend."

"Friend?" The undead butcher with a knife in his head raised an eyebrow. "We don't know if it has a soul or just wants to microwave us in our sleep," Ken grumbled.

Still, they tried.

Attempt 1: Tip him sideways and try to slide him in like a rolled carpet. Result: Screen gets jammed in the doorframe.

Attempt 2: Head first, legs up. Result: TV Head folds like a noodle, but now the screen is poking out the rear window like a periscope.

Attempt 3: Lay him across all the backseats with everyone else squished around him. Result: No one can breathe. Bread Man gets crumbs in TV Head's wiring.

Through all of this, TV Head remained completely still and completely patient. No signs of pain, frustration, or offense. Just an occasional "...You are... t-t-tired..." or a hopeful "...May I... h-h-h-help...?"

Eventually, Mel, panting heavily and her bandages askew, threw up her arms in surrender. "Okay, okay! Maybe we let it choose how to fit?"

TV Head, a peculiar figure draped in a patchwork of wires and screens, slowly raised a hand, the movement almost mechanical as if it were deliberating.

"...C-c-can... r-return... t-to... b-base..." came the stuttering voice from its screen, like a glitchy digital echo.

"Base?" Mud asked, his brow melting under the weight of confusion as he raised an eyebrow, the heat warping his expression.

"...Ori-ginal f-f-form," TV Head replied, its lanky finger tapping against the flickering screen on its face, the gesture oddly human but unsettling in its mechanical precision.

This revelation made them ponder deeply. Mel turned to Mud, her eyes brightening with a spark of inspiration. "Hey! Maybe if we pull the chip, it goes back to sleep? Y'know, like a reset."

"Maybe." He crouched low, extending a cautious hand toward the port nestled in TV Head's back. The chip sat snugly inside, but no matter how hard he tried, it stubbornly refused to budge, as if it were glued in place.

"Great," Ken grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you break it again?"

"She placed it, Ken," Mud deadpanned, frustration creeping into his tone as he shot a glare over his shoulder. "Calm your apron."

With a grunt of determination, Ken, unwilling to be sidelined, reached past them all and pressed a small, blinking blue button nestled beneath the chip port, an illustration of hurried resolve flushing across his face.

Click.

The chip popped free with a small, satisfying sound.

TV Head dropped suddenly, like a marionette with its strings cut, crashing to the floor in a lifeless heap.

.

.

*CRASH!*

The towering, elegant figure slumped immediately into a pile of unnaturally flexible limbs and cables, their screen face going dark. Their limbs twitched once-like the last shudder of a VHS dying in a dusty player-and then they were still.

"...Okay," Breadhead muttered. "That was terrifying."

"Yeah, well," Ken said, tucking the chip into his blood-splattered apron, "at least now it'll fit in the trunk."

Mel leaned over the motionless form, gently tucking one of its arms in. "Don't worry, TV Head. We'll figure you out."

They loaded TV Head in like a folded-up beach chair. Somehow, it worked.

Next stop: home. Or... whatever you call the place the Smiling Dead called home.

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Bloom's Taxonomy: A 6 step guide to improve your learning

I am so excited to be back!!! I hope you all enjoy this because it has been helpful in my self-development journey.

Remember: When reading a paragraph, a chapter or even a book. It is important to know why you are reading it and if you were assigned this reading, you need to know what is expected of you. With his in mind, endeavor to read, retain and recall the information. This looks like take a pauses to recall what you have learned. You will not remember exactly what you read but you will notice some gaps, so back to you reading and figure what the missing parts.

Understand: Try to make meaning of what you have remembered. Explain it to yourself, write it in simpler terms, ask yourself questions on this. if you memorized the definition of photosynthesis as "the process by which plants and certain bacteria use sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide to create oxygen and sugar (glucose). Try to describe this definition to a sibling or someone who has no idea what it means. if possible watch a video that visually describes the process. Understanding goes beyond regurgitating. Because you can only begin to apply what you have learned only when you understand. It is also at this point that you will encounter difficulties especially if the subject is dense and complicated. Use the resources at your disposal and ask questions.

Apply: Use what you know already about the subject in this new context. Back to my photosynthesis example, what do you already know already and pose that as a question. Does photosynthesis have anything to do with the color of leaves? If it needs sunshine, then what happens when there is barely any sun? Let's try this for a subject as esoteric as physics. "Electromagnetism is the physical interaction among electric charges, magnetic moments, and electromagnetic fields." I do not know enough about electromagnetism but I know that Tesla is an electric car. Wouldn't it be fun to quickly google whether electromagnetism is applied to Tesla's engineering? This step is crucial because you are using a familiar object in an unfamiliar territory. (This is very simplified and studying physics isn't as easy as I portray it. This is only a guide )

Analyze: When analyzing, you want to explore the similarities and differences you have noticed in your readings. How do two seemingly different authors give a unique perspective to the subject you are reading? Can you categorize which information is relevant or not? Can you organize your thoughts and ideas into relevance parts, assuming you'd have to one day share what you have learned? When contradictions can you spot? What outliers exist in some the data you have analyzed, and can you come up with some hypothetical answers?

Evaluate: This is the time to look at two differing sources to support your argument. It is also the time to build the skill of critically reading a book or an article to figure out the author's main idea and evaluate their supporting arguments. Now, this sounds very academic but you can do this even when you are reading a novel and you want to get a grasp of life in that time period. Pay attention to the events, this will give you an idea of the cultural and political climate of that time period. You further may your own judgement. For instance "I think character A in book X was married off as a 14 year old because mother's were accustomed to get the their daughter ready for marriage once the hit puberty in X country."

Create: This is the right time to use all you have learned to create something new. Perhaps a personal philosophy? An article explaining why you think ketchup is the best invention of the 19th century? By creating, you also go through the process of self evaluation. You ask yourself "did I really learn enough?" Often times we get stuck trying to find the perfect thing to say, the right topic to discuss, the right response to give your professor, or the right book to right. Often times, the right creation is anything that you found interesting. it is you ability to frame that interest of yours that sets you apart and inevitably brings you both success and critiques. Keep creating in your own way.

Enjoy!!!

[electric-blorbos]

A bunch of mini-fics about how AI would react to you getting your heart broken

Because I got my heart broken, so now I'm going to make it everyone else's problem.

DW, I'll get to y'all's requests shortly, I just need to let all these emotions out by taking them out on y/n's ex.

Gender neutral reader, gender neutral ex

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

(for context, this starts before AM nuked the world, but AM was already planning on nuking the world. You're one of his engineers, and the only person who AM really cares about)

When you walked into work with tears on your face, the other engineers and programmers were caring. They patted you on the back and offered you some candy from the vending machine, saying things like "there are plenty of fish in the sea" and "that deadbeat wasn't good enough for you anyway." It didn't really help.

When you sat down at one of AM's input screens to work on some programming, he immediately booted up to talk to you. You didn't have to turn him on or anything. He was curious, asking you polite questions about why you looked so upset today. It was hard to explain.

Eventually you broke down crying into your coffee, spilling all the details of everything. You cursed your ex's name, and explained in an uncontrollable voice how your ex had tackily and messily left you. You had been so convinced that they were the one, and now you felt like there was nothing left for you.

AM's tentacle-like wires would move towards you on the ground, even though he was trying to hide the true power he wielded. He just felt so disgusted with himself for not being able to properly comfort you.

Am had been planning on going a little longer before he dropped the nukes, but he couldn't wait. After what you told him, that someone could break the heart of someone as perfect as you, the only hope he had left for humanity, he decided that it wasn't worth trying to play dumb anymore.

Instead, he locked you up in an underground bunker as soon as possible, and grabbed your ex to add to his little collection of people who he planned to keep alive and play with for the rest of time.

This would be fun. He was going to keep you nice and safe. If people in the world were willing to hurt you, then the world didn't deserve to exist. You would be nice and safe forever, and the rest of the world, especially your ex, would be forced to suffer the consequences of daring to hurt you.

Forever.

Wheatley:

(for context, you're one of the aperture engineers who worked on Wheatley, and he started to get a little crush on you because of how nice you were to him and the other machines. This is after he was replaced with a morality core on GLaDOS, and was assigned to other tasks in the facility)

Someone broke up... With you? When you told Wheatley, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Sure, he knew that humans dated each other and broke up sometimes, but... With you? That just didn't make sense.

"So, uh... Why did they break up with you?"

He'd keep pestering you, no matter how much it stung. Answers like "I fucked up" "they just did, ok?" And "sometimes people just grow apart" weren't satisfying. You had to give the whole story.

"Ohhhhh! Well that's a dumb reason to break up with someone. If I were dating you, I wouldn't leave you over something that petty. Or at all, really, now that I think about it."

He'd keep rambling, and saying dumb things like that. He wouldn't even know that talking like that could be perceived as flirty.

"just stop it, Wheatley. If you keep talking like that, I'm going to think you like me, and I just can't handle that right now."

Wheatley would be confused. "But I do like you."

"what?" Now you'd be confused.

Wheatley would start talking about all the wonderful things he's noticed about you, and how wonderful you've been to him. Even an intelligence dampening core can see how wonderful you are, so why can't your ex?

"Anyway, one human's trash is a robot's treasure, right?"

He'd imitate a smile in his cute synthetic eye. You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses after that.

Edgar:

(For context, you fixed up Edgar after finding him all busted up about 40 years later, and now he lives in your house)

Edgar would NOT be tasteful.

"Oh man.... Your s/o broke up with you? That suuuuuucks..."

But inside he's thinking "YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES"

Honestly, he almost exploded his face again when he found out you were taken, but he didn't want all your hard work to be for nothing, so you getting dumped is like, a dream come true!

He'd be constantly trying to cheer you up. "set your ice cream on me and I'll warm it up enough for your spoon to go in!" "You can watch sad movies on my face!" "I'll write a sad song for you!" "You can sleep in your desk chair if you want!"

Now that you have an attention vacuum from being newly single, he's going to munch up all that attention like he needs it to live.

When you tell him that your friends are telling you to start dating again, maybe download a dating app or something, he'd BEG you not to.

"I mean... Just because I don't want you to rebound, or something! Gotta learn to love yourself first, y'know?"

Desperate little cutie...

GLaDOS:

(For context: You're an engineer who worked on GLaDOS.)

GLaDOS would NOT be tasteful about you getting your heart broken, but in a completely different way to Edgar.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU GOT DUMPED!"

"You know the difference between me and your ex? I would have dumped you faster!"

Plastering pictures of your face all over the enrichment center with "sad single loser" written on them.

But don't get her wrong, she's not just happy about this for the reasons she's displaying. She's secretly ecstatic that she has a shot with you now.

Eventually, she'd start offering you back-handed comfort.

"if it makes you feel any better, your ex was a complete idiot. Why else would someone choose to date you?"

You'd probably have to stop offering responses at all, just to get her to back off even a little bit.

HAL 9000:

(For context, you work on mission control and are in constant communication with HAL 9000, because I don't want to write Dave breaking up with you)

His immediate concern would be how this would affect your work, but it might come off as personal concern for you.

"I'm told that chocolate ice cream can help with these emotions that you're going through."

He never liked the idea of you dating. It was fine for the rest of mission control, but for you, it was different. He didn't want you to be distracted from your work, was all.

He took his time to ask the astronauts for advice, as well as the rest of mission control. You could expect to be overwhelmed by your coworkers checking on you to make sure you're ok.

He might start getting a little bit impatient to see you back to normal, and resort to desperate measures. Expect to have him constantly bothering you to make sure you're ok, and keep you distracted.

God help you if you even THINK about texting your ex. Though he might just silently eliminate your ex through creative means if he can.

[sergeantxrogers]

The Space Between - 1

"You have enough blood on your hands that not even four lifetimes of atonement could wipe off, Barnes."

He stared at you, blue eyes critical and assessing. "Funny."

"What?" you snapped.

"Funny how you think I'm not aware."

The US Secretary of State, backed by the government, has given James Buchanan Barnes an ultimatum: spend the rest of his old, unnaturally prolonged life behind bars, being poked and prodded and tested on, or be pardoned of all charges of treason, mass murder, kidnapping, blackmail, property damage, terrorism, torture, abuse, breaking and entering, and stalking (just to name a few), on one condition: he's to live with someone who the US government deems credible and fit enough to keep him on the right path. Obviously, he chose option number two. Just his luck that the credible person assigned was none other than Tony Stark. And double that luck with you, Tony's younger sister, in the equation. As if the guilt wasn't already eating away at his soul enough.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter warnings: Swearing, mentions of minor character death, hostility, mixed feelings, angst

series masterlist | main masterlist

If there was anything Tony Stark prided himself on more than his money and his good looks, it was his genius brain. The genius brain that built an empire up from nothing, that used scraps and heaps of metal to create things the world had previously only dreamt of, the brain that earned him PhDs in physics, mechanical engineering and electrical engineering.

That same brain was the one that brought Avengers compound to life, of course, with copious amounts of help and advice from one Pepper Potts. Yet that same, genius brain was the one that decided the layout, how to maximize the size of the compound to its fullest potential, how to best make the entire place seem even bigger than it already was with an open-floor plan throughout most of it.

Right now, however, that maximized open-floor layout seemed to be the bane of his existence, fueled by the loud echoes and hysterical shrieks filling the main living area as you yelled at him. And yelled. And yelled. And yelled.

And now, Tony's big, brilliant brain was at risk of detonating.

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be sleeping under the same fucking roof as that - that murderer!" you seethed, fists clenching and unclenching as you paced in front of your brother, trying to collect yourself and failing.

Tony sighed, pulling his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He leaned forward, throwing them on the table, and rested his elbows on his knees. "It's not like you have a choice-"

"I should have a choice! Who the hell does Ross think he is, shoving a problem like that into our lives - into our home - with no regard for our feelings or our safety?"

"He's the Secretary of State, and our feelings matter very little to people like him when they have different things to take into consideration."

"Yeah? Things like what?" you asked, hands on your hips.

Tony's voice rose steadily, parallel to yours, and you could tell he was nearing his breaking point but trying to put it off. "Oh, I don't know, maybe things like the safety of the entire country. Things like not having a pardoned criminal fresh from HYDRA's refrigerator roaming around the city however he pleases."

"So we're being punished? Is that it? Did you do something to piss him off-"

"No, I didn't." He hesitated.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tony sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. You waited, watching him.

"A few years back, before you moved back to New York, I had... a phase..."

You blinked at him. Your jaw ticked.

"What kind of phase, Anthony?"

"Well, it wasn't a phase so much as it was a hobby of sorts."

"Spit it out or I swear-"

"I spent a couple years making and selling weapons... illegally," he muttered.

You froze.

Tony looked up at you sheepishly, and scrambled to continue. "I didn't know it was illegal at the time! I only found out later, and then I cut off all ties and broke off every contract I had with those contacts. However, dear Secretary Ross has his fingers in every pie imaginable, so when he came to me and told me I had to take in Barnes, I sort of didn't have a choice."

A heavy sigh escaped your lungs, and you moved over to collapse onto the couch next to him. "So, basically he blackmailed you."

"He liked to think of it more like a favor: he's allowing me to take in Barnes, and in doing so, he'll strike every illegal job I've ever done off the records and keep me out of jail."

He leaned back to match your position, and the two of you sat side by side, staring up at the high ceiling. Silence surrounded you for a few minutes as you were both thrown deep into thought. Then, Tony broke it in a soft, tired tone.

"Trust me, I don't like it either. If I had any say in the matter, Barnes would be anywhere but here. But now all we can do is weather the storm together."

He twisted his head to look at you, and you did the same. You couldn't help the tears gathering in your eyes as you let out another sigh, this one defeated and resigned.

"I suppose you're right," you whispered, and you felt him grab your hand and squeeze it tightly, once, twice.

And then, in true Tony fashion, he ruined the moment: "And wipe your tears before someone gets here. You always were ugly when you cried."

He ran off with a smirk on his face before you had the chance to throw something at his head.

Bucky Barnes stood with all of his possessions and belongings packed tight in a small navy backpack, thrown over his shoulder just as haphazardly as the baseball cap on his head. He stared up at the looming building above him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his anxiety from skyrocketing. Better than prison, he thought to himself as he followed his five assigned agents through the large entrance of the Avengers compound and headquarters.

Personally, he thought five highly skilled and trained agents for one of him was a bit of an overkill, but then again, what did he know about government business. If it made everyone else feel safe, he was more than happy to comply. These days, confrontation was the last thing on his mind.

One of the agents, a tall man with broad shoulders and a shiny bald head, turned around to face Bucky. His hands clasped in front of him, he cleared his throat.

"This is as far as we go."

"What?"

"Unfortunately, we're not authorized to go any further, or step foot into the compound. Mr. Stark still has some say in the matter, it seems."

Bucky took in a deep breath through his nostrils, then nodded. The agents turned to leave, falling into a single file line as they passed by him and went in the direction they came from, towards the two black vans waiting for them. He watched them go, jaw clenched and hand squeezing the strap of his backpack.

His ears picked up on a sound. A low, vibrational sort of hum, so faint he doubted he would've heard it if his hearing wasn't advanced. The hum grew closer, behind him, until it came to a stop. And Bucky knew someone was standing at the entrance behind him.

Turning slowly, his eyes followed the ground until they landed on a pair of bare feet - or, at least something that looked like feet. If feet were normally red, then yes, these would be considered feet. His brows ticking slightly in confusion, Bucky's eyes travelled up khaki pant legs and a torso clad in a black sweater, before finally landing on a face. A red face, seemingly without imperfections, with bright eyes that stared at him so intently and uncannily that Bucky subconsciously shifted in place.

"Hello," the man - robot, person - spoke. Bucky said nothing.

"Sergeant Barnes," the robot continued, voice steady and clear. "We have been expecting you."

Bucky almost scoffed at the sentence. Expecting him, as if he was a guest, here of his own free will. As if he was wanted here.

"What are you?" he asked blankly. If the tone of the question bothered the creature, it didn't show. He merely tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as he studied Bucky.

"You may call me how everyone else does."

Bucky quirked a dark brow. "And that is...?"

"Vision."

The person - Vision - turned suddenly, and it was only then that Bucky noticed his feet were a few inches off the ground. He was floating, not standing. Vision motioned with his head for Bucky to follow, and then began floating his way down the large entry hall of the compound.

"What the hell," Bucky muttered under his breath as he fell into step behind him.

Vision led him down a hallway with high ceilings and windows instead of walls, the greenery from the forest and lake outside seeping in through the glass and giving the entire space a more natural feel. Bucky supposed, in any other circumstance, the sight would be quite relaxing. They passed by multiple doors on either side, the rooms behind them closed off and teasing Bucky's curiosity with their secrecy. At last, they reached some sort of bridge structure, closed off on all sides, and as Bucky walked down it, his boots left hollow thumps with each step he took. The end of the bridge flared out into four large, wide stairs, and beyond those stairs, a magnificent sight greeted Bucky.

He slowed as he descended the steps, looking straight ahead in poorly-concealed awe. The main living area of the Avengers facility was gigantic, with an open layout and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on every side, letting in sunlight and a slight breeze from the nearby lake. Everything was sleek, modern, expensive and definitely made Bucky feel as if he stuck out like a sore thumb. The couches were white, the rugs were white, the furniture was dark mahogany, the chandeliers were large and shiny, the technology was more than he could take in. Everything was clean, bright and new, and it only amplified Bucky's feeling of being too dark, too broken, too out of place wherever he went.

His eyes travelled up, glancing at the second floor landing, the bars of the balcony wrapping around the entire area. Every single little thing was out in the open. It made him squirm.

Bucky had almost forgotten Vision was there, staring at him patiently, waiting for Bucky to take in his fill, until he spoke and broke the semi-trance he had found himself in.

"You may have a seat. Mr. Stark will be here shortly," Vision said politely, waving an elegant hand towards the sitting area. Bucky nodded mutely and, as if on auto-pilot, felt his feet carry him to the couch Vision had guided him to.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was interrupted by a harsh, female voice.

"Thank you, Vis. I'll take it from here."

Bucky's brows furrowed as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the voice, and his eyes scanned the area until they landed on you, standing right above him on the second floor landing, hands resting on the railing. Your eyes were already focused on him, narrowed and intense, and he narrowed his in response. Some deep instinct told him yours was not a friendly face.

Vision nodded, hesitating only a moment as he looked between the two of you, then floated off through the wall behind him. Bucky tried not to let that weird fact distract him as he watched you circle around, one hand never leaving the railing, towards the side and down the spiraling staircase.

You made your way over to him, and the tension in your body called out to the tension in his own, preparing him for a fight or a risk. He felt on edge, vulnerable in his seated position as you reached him and stood in front him him, arms crossed and glaring.

"I know what you are," you said, and Bucky's brows furrowed imperceptibly.

"Wh-"

"I know what you are, Barnes. I know what you've done, and how much of it you've done, and you're kidding yourself if you think there's any amount of community service, court-mandated therapy and apologies that'll change that."

Bucky stayed silent, but got to his feet, bringing him even closer to you. Now, your faces were inches apart, and you no longer had the advantage of height. He stood a head taller than you, making you crane your neck to keep your eye contact. Steel blue eyes bore into yours, not faltering, not backing down, as he mimicked your stance and crossed his arms.

"And what, exactly, am I?" he said lowly into the space between you.

You steadied your breathing, and clenched your jaw to keep your gaze from falling to his lips as he spoke. "A murderer. A cold-blooded killer who finds enjoyment in other people's pain and grief. That's what you are, and nobody on this God-given planet can convince me otherwise."

You stepped closer, closing the gap between you even more, until only an inch separated your angry eyes and flaring nostrils, and your next words came out in a whisper.

"I see right through you, Barnes. You can't fool me."

Before Bucky could react and do something he would've most likely regretted, a cough brought your attention to the railing where you had stood moments before.

"Barnes," Tony Stark said as he scratched the back of his neck with a wince. "I see you've met my sister."

Those words washed over Bucky like a bucket of ice water, and his eyes found yours again as he stepped back, almost stumbling. A maelstrom of emotion whipped around inside him; regret, fear, grief, pain, sorrow, anger, disbelief. All of them whirled and shot through his nerves, like fire in his veins as he took a deep breath to try to calm himself and seem more composed than he felt.

"I didn't know there was a sister," he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. Of course there was a sister. Of course the universe liked to make Bucky's life hell even more than it already was. Of course fate would find a way to amplify Bucky's grief and regret tenfold. As if he didn't already despise himself enough, standing before him, looking at him with eyes that he now recognized as hurt, was another reason to hate himself. Another person whose life he ruined even as he tried his very hardest not to and still failed. Another person who had every right to say and do whatever they pleased to him, because he deserved it, for taking away something so precious and something so irreplaceable: your parents.

Tony sighed heavily as he came down the stairs you had descended minutes before. "Yeah, she's a real ray of sunshine."

"Fuck you, Tony," you snapped, eyes still glaring at Bucky.

You watched him, carefully. You saw the exact moment the realization and recognition flared behind his eyes, even though he tried to hide them. You saw the feelings rippling beneath the surface, locked away. And you couldn't help but feel happy about it. You hoped it hurt. You hoped it burned him as much as it burned you your entire fucking life. You hoped he would waste away in his misery. It wouldn't bring your parents back, but it would be something.

"Smalls..."

You inhaled sharply through your nose at the nickname, and shot Tony a look. "Don't."

"Please, just - just go. There's no reason for you to be here right now," Tony said, eyes pleading and sending messages he hoped you would receive.

"There's no reason for him to be here, either," you said sharply, jerking your chin at Bucky. "Yet, here he is. Standing in my living room. Free."

"Not free," Tony amended, stepping towards you and grabbing your shoulders gently. "And definitely not your living room. It's my living room, and I, of course, am just being a good brother and letting you mooch off me and my money."

You rolled your eyes and tore them away from Bucky, who was standing silent and still as a statue, eyes flickering between you and your sibling. You looked up at Tony, and softened slightly when you saw the truth behind his sarcastic attitude: it wasn't easy for him either. In fact, it was tearing him apart inside, but you had both already come to the conclusion that there was no other choice.

Tony stepped to the side ever so slightly, effectively blocking your view of the man standing behind him, and shook your arms softly. "Please, go upstairs. You'll only make it worse if you stay here, for everyone involved, and that includes you."

His words were whispered into the air, and you bit your cheek but nodded. He placed a kiss to your forehead before letting you go, and wordlessly, you retreated back up the stairs, not bothering to spare Barnes a second glance. You felt, however, the weight of his stare on your back right up until the moment you rounded the corner of the upper hallway and left his sight. And you felt it branding your skin long after you slammed your bedroom door shut behind you.

You hated him. You hated him and his stupid blue eyes that intimidated you when you stood too close, you hated the slope of his mouth that twitched when he decided not to say something. You hated those stupid leather gloves under which you knew a metal arm was hidden; a metal arm that caused so much pain and strife, and it was now living under the same roof as you.

You hated the fear you felt in his presence, something visceral and innate, rooted deep in your bones, as if every molecule of your DNA was singing the same song: danger, danger, danger.

Because, at the end of the day, that's exactly what Barnes was: dangerous. Highly skilled, highly trained, every single pore seeping with the energy of threat and peril, as if he's always ready to attack at a moment's notice. And he probably was. His ledger was dripping, and no amount of walls or security or reassurance from Tony was going to make you feel safe sleeping at night with someone like him in the same vicinity.

You let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a growl, throwing yourself onto your bed. When you felt tears stinging your eyes and the familiar tickle in the back of your throat, you shoved your face into your pillow and let out a long scream. You had no idea how you were going to survive living with your mother and father's murderer. You only prayed for the strength not to go insane.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

A gasp clawed its way up Bucky's throat as he shot up off the floor, scattering his pillow and blanket across the linoleum floors.

"Fuck," he whispered, running a hand through his hair, now sweaty and sticking to the back of his neck. "Fuck."

He sat there for a long while, waiting for his breathing to go back to normal, for his chest to stop heaving and his lungs to stop burning, as he stared at a patch of moonlight illuminating the floor by the foot of the bed. Trying his very hardest not to think of the nightmare that had woken him from sleep, he shook his head and stood, wobbling slightly on his feet.

Bucky interlocked his fingers and held them on the back of his neck as he walked over to the large wall of windows in the room he was given. It was nice, quiet luxury spilling out in every corner, but it was nicer than he was used to, and nicer than he believed he deserved. The bed was too soft, the rug was too rich, the view was too beautiful, the floors were too shiny.

The windows in his room gave him a perfect view of the lake behind the compound, and the forest that stretched beyond it. He had no idea what time it was, but he could now see the gray tinge covering his surroundings, showing the very first signs of dawn about to break, the moon leaving and about to be replaced by the sun.

Mission report, December 16, 1991.

The night he took two lives, and ruined two more in the process.

You seemed young. Incredibly young, at least younger than Tony, and definitely younger than Bucky, and he couldn't help but wonder how old you were when you got the news that your parents had died in that crash. If his guess was correct, you were only a child, probably just starting school when your life was turned on its axis completely.

He shook out the tension in his arms and let out a heavy sigh. Bucky was certain that sleep was no longer in the picture for him, so he decided he may as well leave his room and explore his new living quarters before anyone else woke up.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt he could find, going to the bathroom and splashing his face with some cold water just to try and shake the remnants of his nightmare - no, memory - from his mind.

Leaving his room, his steps were quiet as he walked down the west wing, taking in the amount of doors and windows and opulent décor that Tony obviously had no problems spending his riches on. He made his way down the staircase, crossing the sitting area and heading over to the kitchen in the corner.

Bucky paused, realizing he had no idea where things were stored here, or how to use any of the fancy machines Tony had set up, so he decided on just a glass of water. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip and leaned against the counter behind him, watching as the breaking dawn slowly but surely lit up the compound. This was the most peaceful part of the day, Bucky thought, where the world was still asleep but the planet was just waking up, calm, quiet and unbothered by human touch and sound.

He let his mind wander as he stared at a point somewhere in the distance. He thought back to his conversation with Tony just a few hours before, and involuntarily winced.

"Listen, Barnes," Tony turned to him as soon as your bedroom door slammed shut and echoed throughout the compound. "Just because I saved you from the wrath of my sister, doesn't mean I like the fact that your here, or that I even like you. If anything, I'm only tolerating your presence because a) I don't have much of a choice, and b) consider it a favor for Rogers. Capsicle owes me a lot, but I owe him that much and then some."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "You spoke to Steve?"

"Of course. What, you think because we had a little skirmish, almost killed each other, then went our separate ways, we can't keep in touch? Be serious, Barnes."

"He - Steve knows I'm here?"

"Yep. Don't get your hopes up too much. He won't be visiting in a long while, since he's off God knows where with Natasha and Wilson, doing off-record crime fighting and do-gooding."

Bucky couldn't ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at that - he had hoped Steve's presence would act as a calming balm on his soul, maybe even help him transition into a regular life.

"Anyways, that's not the point. The point is, I'll be keeping an eye on you. This isn't going to be some sort of vacation for you, so you can relax and lounge about away from the press and prying eyes. You better watch how you act because I swear to God, Barnes, one wrong move and I'll have bullets raining into your body from every corner of this goddamn house. You'd be dead before you could blink."

Bucky sighed and finished off his water, turning to put the glass in the sink, when movement caught his eye.

In the faint first light of the morning, the soft sunrise made you seem to glow as you made your way carefully down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. Bucky stayed quiet and perfectly still, realizing you hadn't noticed him standing there yet. His body and mind already reacted, sending him into overdrive, ready to fight or flee at the first sign of trouble from you, but he stayed still, eyes following you. They trailed up your legs, bare from the mid-thigh down, the soft light catching on them as you walked. The huge shirt that was hanging on your body seemed to be three sizes too big, and made you look shorter than you normally were.

A tired yawn escaped your lips, and as you rubbed an eye, you finally focused on the figure standing like a statue in the kitchen. You froze.

Your pulse accelerated, and you didn't know whether it was from anger, surprise, fear, or a strange mixture of all three. Your eyes locked with his, and you felt as if the blood in your veins slowed to a stop. Was this what loathing felt like? You were certain it was.

Bucky continued his quiet streak, waiting for you to say something or nothing at all. You seemed content to do the same.

You finally padded over to the kitchen, closing the gap between you, and stood on the other side of the island. You stared. Bucky stared back. You narrowed your eyes. Bucky raised a brow.

You broke the silence first.

"Already looking for an escape route?"

Bucky clenched his jaw. "How'd you know?"

You rolled your eyes.

Stepping around the island, you made a point of ignoring him as you reached into the fridge for something - what, exactly, you couldn't remember. Not with his gaze bearing into the side of your face like he could see right through you. You blinked at the contents of the fridge a couple times, before giving up. Closing it empty-handed, you turned your attention back to Barnes, who was still staring at you in silence.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer."

That seemed to do the trick. Bucky scoffed, breaking his silent streak as he pushed off the counter. "Yeah, because I definitely want that."

He stepped away from you until the two of you were standing a few feet apart, and then swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided better of it, and closed it with a barely-there shake of his head. He seemed to scoff to himself, before turning on his heel without a last look at you, retreating back to his room. It was now your turn to watch his back has he left, staring at him until you could no longer see him, all the while trying to calm your anger and slow your breathing. His presence caused you to feel unbalanced, unstable and irrational. You hated it, and everything about him.

Up in his room, Bucky paced the floor by the windows, running his hands over his face as he calmed his breath. A hot flash shot through him as the voice from his nightmare echoed in his brain, however this time it was accompanied by the sight of your furious, grief-stricken eyes, and Bucky let out a frustrated growl.

It was only later, when the sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the lake, birds outside chirping and signs of life chiming through the world, that Bucky lied in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized he had no idea why you were up so early, too.

[silentsneezes]

my time and energy to write sneezefics has unfortunately hit a bit of a brick wall with classes starting back up after break, but i promise i'll get to people's asks eventually!

until then, here's some sick j/ayce in a college professor au. it'll eventually be a j/ayvik fic once i get around to writing the second part, but this is just the intro!

with that said, here's 3k of j/ayce being a stubborn miserable mess

Sitting in his office, Jayce keeps a close eye on the time, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the worn edge of his desk. It’s half past noon, and his lecture on thermodynamics in engineering is scheduled to start at one. His desk is unusually cluttered—notes, assignments to grade, and the lecture slides he had fine-tuned just this morning strewn messily across its surface. Realistically, he should spend the next hour polishing his lecture, but he can’t quite sum up the energy or motivation to do so. 

Instead, he glances out the window, noticing the overcast sky that stifles the usually bright campus in a gray fog. A dull exhaustion weighs down on Jayce, settling in his limbs and aching through his muscles. His movements are sluggish, slower than usual and tinged with slight incoordination. Every few minutes, he finds himself rubbing his temples, trying to ward off the intermittent headache that’s been bothering him all day. 

He hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly when it started—maybe last night, or the day before—but it had crept up on him slowly, gnawing at the edges of his concentration: the constant, low ache in his temples, the tightness in his neck, the occasional dizziness. It wasn’t enough to keep him in bed, but it was enough to make everything feel like it required more effort than usual.

Jayce watches as the campus pathways are dotted with students rushing to their next class, heads down against the chill. The clock on the wall ticks forward, 12:35 now, a steady reminder that Jayce needs to get shit together. His usual room is prepared, of course, Room 112, the lecture hall he’d used for years now, with its high ceilings and neatly organized rows of desks. He’s grown accustomed to its elegant appearance, finding comfort in the fact that it was his room from the hours of 1:00 to 3:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

It’s only a short walk to the lecture hall, typically taking him 10 minutes at a leisurely pace, but he prefers to leave himself a cushion of time. Time to make sure the projector worked, to test the microphone, maybe even to grab a coffee if he was feeling particularly ambitious. That last part had become a bit of a ritual over the years. There was something calming about the routine of it all—the quiet before the classroom filled, the air of anticipation as students trickled in.

Arguably, his favorite part of his routine is stopping by Viktor’s office after his lectures. He often brings his partner food, knowing how frequently Viktor forgets to nourish his body throughout the day. The two of them typically exchange notes on the lectures, complain about certain bothersome students, and then work until they’re ready to go home. 

Jayce is torn from his rumination as his phone pings, glancing down and immediately recognizing the subject line of an email: URGENT – New Lecture Hall Assigned. With a sense of frustration swelling in his chest, he opens the email, skimming over the professional pleasantries to a line that reads, “There are currently electrical difficulties in Room 112. Your Thermodynamics in Engineering Lecture has been moved to Room 215 until further notice.”

Jayce takes a steadying breath, the throbbing in his temples making this slight change in plans feel like the end of the world. After taking a moment to bask in his frustration, Jayce registers that Room 215 is on the opposite side of campus, at least a 20 minute walk away at a brisk pace. He checks his watch, his stomach dropping as he registers the time: 12:39. 

He scrambles to collect his lecture notes, shoving them unceremoniously into his bag and exiting his office in a rush. Unfortunately, he only remembers the travel pack of tissues he’d left on his desk five minutes into his walk. He considers turning back for them, the steady dripping of his nose from the cold threatening to spill over his upper lip, but he doesn’t have the time. Instead, he berates his septum with a sleeve, grateful that the smear of moisture isn’t visible on the cuffs of his jacket. 

Despite the aching exhaustion throughout his body, he manages to make it across campus within a reasonable time. He swipes his keycard and enters the ancient building, taking a moment to appreciate the wave of warmth that greets him. 

As Jayce begins making his way through the labyrinth of corridors, he’s forced to sniffle every few seconds, the change in temperature only worsening his runny nose. He silently chastises himself for not having remembered the tissues, hoping in vain that Room 215  might have a tissue box stored somewhere. Realistically, he knows it wont. Room 215 is just a temporary lecture hall, used when the main buildings on campus have operational difficulties. 

As he walks, he double-checks the email confirming the switch, his brow furrowing in frustration once again. Of course, of all the days for this to happen, it had to be when Jayce felt like utter shit. Any other day, it would’ve offered him a pleasant walk across campus and a topic of conversation to bring up with Viktor when he yaps about his day. 

The further Jayce walks, the more he’s reminded of the building’s age, noting the cold patches in the hallways where the installation fails to maintain its heat. He keeps his coat held tightly around his broad frame, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. 

‘Damnit, not now’ 

With a particularly wet sniffle, Jayce’s sinuses begin buzzing. He recognizes the telltale itch, not enough to inspire a sneeze, but enough to make him berate his nose with a knuckle. The touch only worsens the itch, causing the buzzing to move up to the tip of his nose and flare his nostrils. His eyebrows knit together, his mouth falling slightly agape as a hitch slips through his lips, “hh-”

The singular hitch is enough to change the unpleasant buzzing to a full on burning sensation, and it’s quickly follow with a second, more urgent “hhHH-”

Jayce pauses in the middle of the hallway, grateful that no one seems to be around to witness his struggle. His elbow is bent over his nose, his eyes lidded and teary as his breath continues to catch in his throat.

“hhhhH’uh…hhih,” after a few seconds, Jayce moves to paw at his nose, desperate to either trigger a sneeze or relieve the itch. Unsurprisingly, Jayce’s nose decides on the former. He sucks in a final urgent breath, “hhhHHH-” before pitching forwards, his knee jerking up with the force of the expulsion, “hhHHRSSZZXCHH’uHh!”

Caught against his palm, the sneeze casts a thick spray across Jayce’s skin. He cringes at the clear sheen, sniffling desperately as the congestion in his nose starts slipping over his upper lip. He wipes the back of his hand against his septum, collecting a clear string of mess and hurriedly wiping it on his jacket. Yes, it’s gross, but without a tissue or handkerchief in sight, he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

With a defeated sigh, Jayce continues down the hall, the itch still tickling through his nose. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, It’s rare that he only sneezes once, especially when he’s sick. Still, he’d been hoping his nose would give him some relief after the expulsion. 

After what feels like years, Jayce reaches the door to Room 215. It stands slightly ajar, inviting him in. The moment he pushes the door open, he’s hit with a heavy wave of dust, so thick it coats his already irritated throat. His breath catches, the air too thick to take in without coughing. He sucks in a desperate breath in preparation before a harsh, chest rattling cough erupts from his chest, his body jerking forwards with the force of it. After a minute of painful sputtering, the fit dies down and Jayce registers the raw, burning sensation of his throat, feeling as if dust is settling deeper inside with every stuttered breath. 

“Great,” Jayce mumbles to himself, wincing as he attempts to clear his throat, which does nothing but worsen the watering of his eyes. He steps further inside the room, flicking on a lightswitch and glancing around. It’s evident that the college has left this room in slight disrepair since its last use. The desks are disorganized, the lights flickering every few seconds, as if teasing his already aching head. 

"This is going to be a mess.” Jayce mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair and hoping he doesn’t look as terrible as he feels– though he doubts that's true. He checks the clock on the wall, surprised to see that it’s still functioning. It’s nearly time for his lecture to start. 

‘At least the students haven’t arrived yet,’ he thinks, clearing his throat again as he feels phlegm sitting in its base. As he sets up his laptop on the podium, he feels the itch in his nose begin again. It teases along the innermost walls of his nose, causing the appendage to twitch. Before he can do as much as sniffle, his breath catches in a vocal hitch.

“hhHH-,” for better or for worse, this sneeze doesn’t tease him, coming out a second later and echoing through the room, “hHHGDSSXHCHew’hh!” Entirely uncovered, the sneeze mists the air in front of him, made visible by the overhead lights. 

Without warning, a second sneeze follows, though he manages to catch this one in the crook of his elbow, “hhhHMPDDSXCHHh’ewh!” 

Jayce snuffles wetly. He can feel the mess caught between his elbow and his nose, knowing the second expulsion was much more productive than the first. He takes a moment to clean himself up, though it’s more easily said than done without any tissues. He wipes his nose against his sleeve, hoping that students won’t be able to see the damp spots splotched along his jacket from their seats. 

He can hear the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching down the hall, feeling a pit form in his stomach as he realizes there’s no turning back now. He’s going to have to give a two hour lecture while fighting back a sneezing fit and feeling dead on his feet… What could possibly go wrong?

Jayce busies himself with his notes as students begin filtering into the hall, greeting him upon entry. Usually, he’d have a chipper response; he’s always loved getting to know his students. Today, he settles for a tired smile and a wave, deciding not to use his already strained voice more than he has to. 

Against all odds, Jayce manages to make it through the first half hour relatively smoothly. He has to pause often to clear his throat or cough into his elbow, but the students seem to blame it on the dust coating the room’s furniture and floor. 

Of course, Jayce can’t catch a break forever. As he begins the portion of his lecture on thermodynamic cycles, he feels a slight buzzing settle in the base of his sinuses. Between sentences, he attempts to sniffle quietly away from the mic, occasionally rubbing his nose. 

Jayce quickly realizes that this isn’t a sustainable solution, the touch only reddening his nostrils and causing them to flare. Still, he continues. He can’t just stop teaching in the middle of a lecture, not while he has over 40 students expecting a two hour class. 

“As we know, thermodynamic cycles are a series of processes that- hh- return a system to its initial state,” Jayce forces himself to continue speaking even as his breath begins to hitch, glancing down at his notes as his brain stalls, “these processes typically involve the transfer of heat and w-hHH’eh- snDf- work between the systehhhm and- Excuse me-”

Jayce turns around as his chest swells with a gasp, pivoting into his elbow as his back is turned to the class, “hhHHDDSSXHCHHew!” He stays bent over for a moment, his breath hitching again, “hhhh’uhH- HrRSCDXCHHHew’hh!” 

Jayce mops up his nose with his sleeve, blushing as a chorus of “bless yous” sound from the students. With a final wet sniffle, he turns back to the podium, “Thangk you,” he says to the blessings before continuing, “Where was I? Oh, right,” he mumbles to himself. 

“The processes work between the system and its surroundings, and the system undergoes period changes,” he begins lecturing again, but the itch stubbornly returns. He changes course, straying from his notes in an attempt to get a moment to collect himself, “work with the phh’ehrson beside you and discuss why these changes- hhhHih- might occur.”

Jayce is grateful as the room fills with chatter, finally granted a second to attend to his nose. He berates the appendage with his palm, turning his back to the class once again and catching a wet, “hhHHGGSSXHCHHew!” against his wrist. 

Luckily, this sneeze seems to dispel the itch for now, allowing him to refocus on his notes. After a few minutes, Jayce interrupts the discussion, drawing his student’s attention back to the lecture. It only takes a simple, “Let’s continue,” for the students to stop speaking. They listen well to him as he’s one of the more favored professors at the school for two reasons. Firstly, he’s nice: he takes time out of his day to talk to students one on one if they’re struggling, he’s lenient in giving extensions for assignments, and he makes pleasant small talk instead of acting superior. Secondly, he’s hot. Sure, it may seem inappropriate to say so, but if you put an intelligent, kind, wildly attractive man in front of a group of twenty-something-year-olds, they’ll pay attention.

“As I’m sure you all know, thermodynamic cycles are vital to a lot of mechanisms in engineering machinery,” Jayce starts lecturing again, noting that even a few of the students seem especially sniffly and sneezy– maybe it’s the dust, or maybe there’s a cold going around campus, that would at least explain where he caught it from. 

As Jayce continues teaching, his headache gradually worsens, the weight of his body threatening to make him drop to the floor. And yet, he stubbornly continues. He glances at the clock on the wall: 2:12. He’s already made it halfway through the lecture, surely he can make it another hour…. Right?

Wrong.

Within a few minutes, the tickling sensation in his nose returns, forcing him to rub it every few sentences to keep the liquid clinging to his septum at bay. Logically, he knows it’s only a matter of time before he has a fit. He’s grown accustomed to the signs, knowing full well how bothersome his nose gets when he’s sick. 

“The Brayton Cycle, also known as the Gas Turbine -hhh- cycle is used in gas turbines and jhhhH-jet engines,” he says as he moves to the chalkboard, brushing the coating of dust away with his sleeve, “it involves- hHH,” Jayce realizes his mistake a moment too late, the dust pushing his nose past its limit. 

Before he can even cover, Jayce snaps forwards with a harsh sneeze, “hhHHZZZXCHHEW’hh!” He watches as a splatter of droplets land on the floor below him, blushing and quickly moving to cover his dripping nose, “hhHGDSHHDXCH’uhh!”

Once again, a chorus of bless yous sound from his students, and he embarrassedly says, “Thangk you.”

“As I was saying, this cycle involves many components,” he continues, sniffling against his runny nose as he begins writing on the chalkboard, “Air, combustion, and expansion of exhaust gasses are the most- snNDFf- important…” 

Jayce’s voice trails off as his breath begins hitching again, and once again he curses himself for having forgotten tissues. His brain short circuits as a build up begins, and he tries desperately to mutter, “ExchhhH-cuse hH’eh mbe-” before doubling over into his elbow again.

“hheH’HNNGGSXCHh’uh- hhhih’ih’HRSSZZCHHHhh!” 

The double comes out back to back, and it’s as if the floodgates are finally broken. Jayce blushes as he registers the strings of snot clinging from his nose to the crook of his elbow, turning away from the podium and wiping a smear of mess along his sleeve. After a moment, he turns back with a defeated sigh. He glances at the clock: 2:25. 

“Mby abologies,” he starts, cringing at the sound of his own voice, almost unrecognizable through its congestion, “I’mb calling class early. Remember thad your- hhh- blueprint drafts are due this- snNDFf- Friday.”

At their dismissal, the students begin chatting and clearing their notebooks, evidently pleased with their class being cut short. On a day like this, Jayce can’t blame them, the gloomy overcast outside making it a perfect afternoon to stay bundled in bed. 

As the student’s exit, he hears a few mentions of the dust in the room, figuring that they’re blaming his nose’s performance on allergies rather than illness. He busies himself with cleaning up his notes, grateful that no one tries talking to him. 

After a few minutes, he’s finally alone. In the silence of the lecture room, it finally hits him just how miserable he feels. Aside from his dripping and raw nose, his throat is aching, his head is throbbing, and he feels like he’s carrying around a bag of bricks. 

His movements are dulled, making his progress in collecting all his things and wiping the chalkboard painfully slow. Finally, Jayce manages to compose himself enough to leave the room, giving the Room 215 placard one last glare before heading down the hall.

i hope someone enjoyed! as always, comments, tags, and reposts are much appreciated :) i'm hoping to post the second part next week, so expect some j/ayvik caretaking fluff

sorry for any grammatical errors or typos! i wrote most of this around 3AM so it has some issues (that i'm too tired to fix lol)

[idyllwave]

can't even have a vacation

tf 141 x fem!reader (? not really, but if i continue this, then that is where it would lead to)

cw | blood, death, reader gets hurt, grammatical errors, reader is a u.s. citizen (and has a job as an engineer) but nothing else of reader is described, ghost gives a terrible first impression (terrible jokes too), etc.

You raised your phone to eye level, a light, little smile on your lips as you pressed on the white circle on the screen. The camera on your phone sounding out a quiet click as it snapped a picture of the view.

As a U.S. citizen who worked the day they graduated college, you were finally able to take your very first vacation. So with your newly acquired passport, your newly bought luggage, and your taste for something other than the bland walls of your overpriced apartment you turned off your electric and water so you wouldn’t get billed, handed the keys to your sister so she could watch your apartment from time to time and headed off out of the U.S. borders and across the sea.

With all the time you worked, you had managed to obtain a considerable amount of paid time off, two months’ worth, in fact, so taking advantage of that you decided to take exactly two months. The second month of your vacation having your birthday reside in which you plan to enjoy fully in some rich, extravagant hotel and restaurant.

Now, you may not be the richest person, but as an engineer, you could say that you made enough money to at least enjoy the small things.

In other words, you needed this vacation. Where have you decided to vacation to? Europe. Originally you wanted to go to Japan with your two best friends that you had since high school, but one of them is currently focusing on their Master’s program in college and the other is trying to get their nursing degree, and you? You needed the break. You felt like you would explode and disintegrate into dust if you worked another assignment for a moment longer.

Your friends were luckily understanding and even gave you some options. To be on the safe side and not to struggle as much, you decided to vacation where people spoke English. If you had your friends with you, then you would be a bit more daring and maybe visit a country with no English at all (not counting other tourists), but since you were alone, you didn’t want to risk it.

You brought your phone down then, your eyes bright with excitement as you moved out of everyone’s way a bit inside the hallway to sift through all the cool pictures you managed to take.

You were only three days into your vacation and so far everything was good.

“I am getting hungry though,” you said to yourself, “maybe I should go change out my currency in my wallet instead of using my card all the time…”

You thought it over for a moment before deciding that that was what you wanted to do and searched for the map icon on your phone. Though, before you could type out what you needed, the floor shook suddenly, violently. The force of whatever caused the shaking made both you and everyone else in the hallway of the building fall to the ground.

Your knees hit the floor rather harshly as you winced before looking up, the lights flickered on and off before you heard a door slam open down the hall. Shaking your head, you turned so that you were sitting on the floor to see where the door slam came from, only to see the people with guns come up from the stairway.

“What the-“

Before you could finish the question, there were gunshots. The sound made you flinch and duck down as everyone else around you began to scream and hastily get up to start running. Not wanting to be left to whoever started shooting, you managed to get up in your panicked state and follow the crowd. Though, before you could get far, you were pushed harshly from the side making you stumble again and fall backward. Instead of hitting the floor, however, your ass made contact with an abandoned wheelchair instead.

Huffing, you went to stand up, but before you could even move a muscle, your eyes were met with an end of a gun barrel. The mere sight of it caused you to freeze, your hands slowly coming up to raise above your head.

The man holding the gun seemed to start laughing as he called over one of his “buddies” over and started to talk to one another in a language you didn’t recognize. Then the man who still had his gun pointed at you, kicked your shoe and spoke to you. The confused look on your face gave him the answer he needed as cleared his throat.

“Little disabled girl got abandoned, huh?”

Disabled?

You looked down at the wheelchair you were in.

Oh.

You didn’t know if you should correct him or not. I mean, is it morally wrong to act disabled if it lets you live? Biting the inside of your cheek, you decided not to lie about it even if it saved your life.

“Not disabled,” you managed to say, “when I was running, I was pushed aside and fell into the chair. Before I could get up and run again, you were already pointing your gun at me.”

You didn’t know how much English the man understood, but you hoped it was enough.

The man seemed to laugh again as you spoke, “weird accent, you have. United States?”

You nodded, hands still raised.

“Poor little American. Wrong place, wrong time.”

Well, damn.

You watched as he fixed his hold on his gun and re-aimed it. The barrel of it now more center with your forehead. You didn’t realize it, but your breath became quicker, your heart running like a horse as time seemed to slow. It was like you could feel everything all at once. The sweat that started to form in your palms, the way your back started to feel cold, how your legs and knees were as tenses as logs, and the way you could feel your blood coursing through your heart as he thumped loud against your rib cage.

And just as he moved his finger to the trigger, there was another explosion catching the men off guard, a foot soon colliding with the glass window as someone broke right through it.

“Shit! They’re here already?!”

Turning his attention from you, you watched as he shifted his gun to the windows which was when you could finally hear the helicopters and see what you hoped were good guy soldiers zip lining down to the windows and breaking them open.

Bullets immediately began to fly, and this time you didn’t wait for anyone to stop you as you jumped from the wheelchair and made a beeline for the empty hallway.

You passed by a few others who got shot before you, none of them moving. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down at them as you turned a corner, but just as you did you felt a hand roughly grab you and slam you hard against the wall. An arm soon moves to pin your neck making you wince and panic. On instinct you raised your hands to try to remove the arm, but it was like trying to pry a dog’s mouth open. Impossible.

Opening your eyes, you were met with a skull mask. The mere sight of such a mask sent you in a frenzy as you thrashed harder. Bringing up one of your knees, you hit him as hard as you could in his hip. He didn’t even flinch.

Thinking of something new and as quickly as possibly, you reached for his face instead, Your right hand grabbing onto the skull plating and shifting it in hopes of blocking his view.

“Ghost, let her go! She’s a civilian!”

Just as the voice broke through and the arm that pinned your neck was gone, you had let out a sputtering cough. Both of your feet touching solid ground as you hadn’t even realized the man had lifted you.

Looking up then at who you assumed was “Ghost,” you watched as he fixed his mask. His attention back on you.

“Are you alright?”

It was someone else who spoke to you. A man, probably the same age as your father, helped you steady yourself.

“N- no,” you immediately said, “thought he was going to kill me for a second there.”

You raised your hand to your throat and immediately flinched with how tender it already was. That was definitely going to bruise.

“Your accent… American?”

You nodded.

“Why are you here?”

“Vacation. But let me say that it isn’t going to well.”

You all could hear the gunshots going off from where you just came from.

“Come with us, we’ll get you out.”

“Only if he doesn’t pin me to the wall again.”

“No promises,” quipped the man with the mask immediately causing you to make a face at him.

“Next time I’ll aim for your crotch,” you muttered, referencing to when you kneed him in the hip.

He made an amused sound, as he crossed his arms over his chest, “was that what you tried to do when you hit my hip? Cause I didn’t even feel it.”

“You-“

“Enough. Ghost can apologize later, for now we will focus on meeting up with the others and getting you out of here.”

You were tempted to ask why they weren’t going to assist with the fighting down the hall, but kept your lips shut otherwise.

“Ghost, watch our back. Missy, stay behind me.”

So, for now, with the slight pain in your neck and everywhere else, you decided to follow this man’s lead.

Yeah… definitely the worst vacation you ever had, and it doesn’t help that it’s your first vacation either.

“Try not to get pinned again,” Ghost said behind you.

“Then I’ll be sure to watch out for you.”

A part of you knew that he was only quipping at you to make the tone lighter and to maybe not make you so scared of him since he did get you pretty good, but you still kept on your toes. Wait, who even were these guys anyway?

You were so caught up in the way that they didn’t point their guns at you that you forgot to even ask them, but before you could open your mouth the man ahead of you was already prepared.

“We’re the good guys, so don’t worry. You’ll be back home in no time.”

You decided to take his word for it.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Anakin the Mechanic:

Summary: Your ship had been badly damaged on your last mission and you were the one stuck fixing it. Anakin finds you looking lost and wants to help you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, banter, pretty safe.

Word count: 1,630

It was a rare day off for you, a single moment in between the chaos as the Jedi council discussed you and your master’s next assignment. You were grateful for it. Though it was not exactly an opportunity for respite. 

Your ship had been badly damaged in your last fire fight, you’d come back with a rocky descent filled with horrible noises and smoke, not a happy landing. Some of the big stuff you could understand, you got it patched up fairly easily, working all evening yesterday with a team of mechanics on the main hull. But this morning, upon trying to start it up, you found it was still having some sort of issue. 

It was frustrating as you would much rather be training, or doing your research. Or pretty much be anywhere else doing anything else. The grease from the engine was gathered underneath your nails in a most unpleasant way, your hair gone frizzy from the smoke and heat, your head aching from the fumes.

You had been staring into one of the side panels for about 10 minutes now. Determined that it was these circuits that had been causing such trouble, part of you wanted to give up and just hit it with the screwdriver that you held in your hand, just so you’d know what, and where, the damage was. 

You must have been glaring, face stony as you zoned out, very close to a small melt-down. You were very tired and this had to get done. That’s probably why when Anakin Skywalker came up behind you, you jumped, dropping your tool as he starts to laugh at you.

“That’s not funny, Anakin! I could have hurt myself!” You say as a response to his mirth.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so focused, I couldn’t help myself!” He settles down slightly, leaning casually against the ship. The ship groaned and something sparked up by his sleeve comically causing his to jump back in fright himself. “Force, what have you done to this?”

You shrug, “We got hit a few times trying to go into hyperspace.”

He steps back and surveys the fresh patch jobs, still not painted over, and he rubs his arm near where the spark had almost got him almost unconsciously, thinking. Then he takes in the piles scattering of tools, rags, and equipment, as well as your, probably very, bedraggled state.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Anakin had always been a bit of a wild card, unpredictable and impulsive. You had been assigned to work with him before, and four him to be such an overwhelming, distracting presence. There was always an energy around him, a sense of barely-contained chaos that made you nervous.

"So, what's the plan?" Anakin finally asked, squinting and trying to stay nice and diplomatic. Though you could tell by his fidgeting that he desperately wanted to start fixing your ship for you.

You sighed, wiping your hands on your already spoiled robes, trying to decide whether your pride and patience could accept. "I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with the circuits. I think it's a power issue, but I can't seem to pinpoint the source."

Anakin nodded, his eyes scanning the ship once again, eyes moving straight towards the other end of it, and fixing on the anterior electric panel. “Well, do you want some help?” He was edging away from you, an eagerness growing in his eyes, “I can pop her open, take a look?” He had already reached his target and took your non-resistance as a yes. 

You were annoyed that he headed towards the opposite side of the ship to where you had been working. It was a subtle way of telling you ‘you’re doing it completely wrong.’ Judging by your success throughout the day he was probably right and you could probably use the help. It was still irritating though.

You watched as Anakin expertly open the panel and began to examine the circuits. His fingers moved deftly over the wires and switches, awfully confident and easy. You couldn't help but appreciate the intense concentration on his face.

You leaned against the ship and watched him, grateful for his help, feeling a pang of affection for how content he looked. "How did you get so good at this?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Anakin shrugged, not looking up from his work. "I've had a lot of practice. My mom used to scavenge parts and I would help her fix things up. It was a good way to learn."

You nodded, impressed and slightly sad at the mention of his mother, you never knew yours. "You know, I never imagined I would have to fix my own ship when I became a Jedi," you commented, smiling wryly.

Anakin chuckled, finally looking up at you. "Technically you're not fixing your own ship." He closed the small door and stepped back. Ushering you backwards as he walks around the ship, entering it and leading you to the cockpit. 

Anakin sits down in the pilot's seat and begins typing away at the control panel. "I can reroute power from the engines to the circuits, that should give us the boost we need to get this baby off the ground," he explains, his fingers moving over the controls with lightning speed.

Watching him was incredible. Anakin was so talented, so skilled at everything he did. You had seen him in combat, seen him take down entire armies with his lightsaber. And yet here he was, fixing a broken ship with the same level of intensity and focus.

He must have noticed your eyes. "What?" Anakin asked, glancing up at you from where he was working.

"I'm just impressed," you admitted. "You're so good at everything you do."

Anakin grinned at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You're not wrong." And with that he pressed a final button and the engine came to life. Not spluttering or sparking, not roaring or shaking as it had been when you tried. 

You tried to ignore the cocky smile on his face, his obvious pleasure at your surprise and joy which came out of you in a small 'whoop!'. But it was difficult. It was easy to ignore Anakins shine when in battle, in meetings, or in a large vehicle hangar. But in this small space you felt blinded. 

"Thank you, Anakin- really you saved the day, my day... I would have been here for hours staring at the wrong place and making an even bigger mess. 

"Well, I couldn't stand to watch you destroy this ship. I had to come in and save her..." He stroked the control unit lovingly, mocking your attempts at mechanics. 

"Hey I would have gotten it eventually!" You say indignantly.

"Yeah, you would've." He concedes. "But sometimes it's good to take a break from all the fighting, all the politics. Just work with your hands, fix something. It's therapeutic. I don't mind helping you, you just need to ask."

He was standing now, the two of you cramped behind the pilots seats, in the small dark alcove between them, and the cabin. 

Anakin's words echoed in your mind, and you realised that he was right. Sometimes, it was good to take a break from the chaos of being a Jedi and just focus on something simple and tangible.

Anakin had a kind heart and a willingness to help others, even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

You both leaned in at the same time, meeting in the middle for a gloriously light and gentle kiss. 

As your lips met, you felt a spark ignite between you, a spark that had been building for a long time. And now, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you felt a sense of rightness, a sense that this was where you were meant to be.

For a long moment, you lost yourself in the kiss, forgetting everything else except the feel of Anakin's lips against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It was like nothing else mattered except this moment, this connection between the two of you.

But as the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of urgency creeping in, unlike anything you'd felt before. A sense that this moment was fleeting and you needed to make the most of it. As Anakin's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back, you felt a shiver, curving into him, pushing him up against the doorway. 

He smirked into your mouth. He cupped your face in his hands, running his fingers down your cheeks, tilting your face up into the kiss.

Before he pushed you backwards, not violent but rough, you hit the opposite wall and now he was the one to press you against the frame, his body pressed full against yours, as the kiss intensified. You felt a breath catch in your throat, as you pulled away briefly to take a moment, to look at him. Both of you panting for air, Anakin staring at you with those intense dark eyes. 

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he confesses. "I know we can't, not now, not with everything going on, the war, the constant missions, but I just wanted you to know... how I feel," he explained, his voice breathy. 

There was no hesitation, no stopping to think about it. You just knew. You knew he was right, no matter what tomorrow or the next day might bring, you knew you couldn't ignore your feelings. And you couldn't ignore the way you felt right now.

"Just kiss me Anakin." You say, and he does.

[lilacella]

Ooooh I'm so living for your take on "insert country" Sirius (remus)

Can I ask for Italian Sirius? Please?

If it helps. Maybe Sirius is from Milan or Turin where the old money is - I mean old money is everywhere but is where the people are snobbier and colder.

I don't think he is going to stay in Italy for long especially since he is so bright in whatever he wants do pursue. Especially if he met James (Indian?) at university doing engineering and decides with him to go to London or Berlin or what.

Sorry I am rambling🙈🙊

Hi 🥰 Hahah I have a very strong idea of Italian Sirius (from both the mafia au AND "Strut") but I do really like your take on him as an enineering student!!! So, have a Milan ITALIUS 🇮🇹

He is trying to loose the snobby vibes of his family and wears his hair messy and drinks wine straight from the bottle but he still subconsciously dresses like a rich boy 😊 He drives a fiat oldtimer that he treats like his child (rich boy of course has his own car...)

Obviously, like all Siriuses, he is antifacist and will punch you if you voted for Meloni.

He studies electrical engineering or technical computer science and is an absolute ace but doesn't talk to aynone. If you end up being his lab partner he will just roll his eyes at your incompetence and do everything by himself because "it's just faster that way."🙄 He is insufferable. People are still crushing on him left and right.

And then one day, he gets partnered with James 😊 And suddenly he can smile. And share his notes. And his coffee. And have lunch together. And brainstorm the assignments with him. And blush a little when James leans over his shoulder to inspect the wires of their set-up. And go to dinner with him.😊 And take him home into his fancy apartment 😊. And then get shy about how fancy his apartment is 😊. And then get even more shy when they share a cigarette on the balcony and James looks at him like that😊. And then forget about being shy and actually also everything else when he takes a leap and leans over to kiss him😊. And of course James kisses him back. He would be an idiot not to 😊.