#mechanical engineering project guide

[angelx]

Get Even - Chapter 4

word count: 2.2K

cw: frat prez!katsuki x fem art student!reader, mention of light consensual sexual exploration, loss of innocence (consensual), light power dynamics, angst, emotional manipulation, betrayal, deception revealed, verbal confrontation, emotional fallout, heartbreak, desperation, minor character being an accidental snitch

Three weeks. That’s how long it took.

He could’ve ended the game then—hand over the receipts, claim the win, drive off in his beloved Porsche with the smug satisfaction of victory. But Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t thinking about bets anymore. Not when you were sleeping in his bed, tangled in his sheets, soft skin flushed and vulnerable beneath his calloused hands.

You were always there now. In his room, curled into his side. At his place, stealing clothes you’d never return. Even in the quiet hours while he worked on his mechanical engineering assignments, you were there—sitting cross-legged on his bed, scribbling ideas for your next art project, occasionally sketching him in your sketchbook when your mind wandered elsewhere. The same guy who cornered you at a frat party last month, with a cocky smirk now pressed a kiss to your cheek when you said goodnight, traced circles on your knee while driving, held your hand like it was his lifeline.

And he was always around now.

Studio drop-offs. Post-class pastry runs. Sitting beside you as you finished a charcoal draft while he cranked out engineering formulas, muttering to himself and reaching blindly for the drink you'd gotten him.

It wasn’t official. No one said it out loud. But you were his, and Katsuki didn’t correct anyone who looked at you that way.

He should've walked away. After all, he’d already "won"—in less than a month, no less. But every time he looked at you—really looked—that old smugness cracked, and something softer bled through.

Something guilty. Something real. But you didn’t know that yet.

What you did know was that your body didn’t feel like a stranger’s anymore. Not with the way Katsuki touched you, taught you. Whispered encouragements when you were shy about asking for more. He’d started slow, guiding you through your own pleasure like you were something sacred. He taught you everything.

But the more he gave you, the more you wanted. Craved. Demanded.

It started with soft kisses that turned filthy. With your fingers buried in his hair, your thighs trembling. He would whisper in your ear, telling you how good you were doing, how much he needed you.

Then you changed. bolder. Hungrier. Katsuki taught you everything. Patiently. Obsessively. How to arch your back and press your hips against his to feel just right. How to use your hands, slow and deliberate. How to kiss like a promise and moan like a prayer. How to open your mouth for him—eager, breathless, desperate.

And now? You whispered back, filthier. You learned how to tease him. Torment him. You bit his lip when he teased, you whispered filthy things in his ear that made his cock twitch under his jeans. You’d ride him slow and steady just to watch his composure crack. You’d rake your nails down his chest, then soothe it with kisses, grinning when he gritted his teeth and growled your name. You started talking him through it like he used to do to you—telling him how good he felt, how hard he made you come, how you’d never get enough of him.

One night, you edged him. Pushed him to the brink with your mouth and your hands and your voice, and stopped—just before he could fall. You looked up at him with those wide eyes, lashes wet, lips swollen, your tongue tracing the corner of your mouth like the fucking menace you were becoming. And Katsuki just stared down at you, jaw slack, chest heaving, one hand tangled in your hair like he didn’t know whether to pull you in or push you away before he lost his mind.

He’d created a monster—a pretty little succubus that lived to ruin him. And he was so okay with it.

“Fuck,” he gasped one night, sweat slick between your bodies. “You’re a fuckin’ succubus, y’know that?”

You giggled, all sugar and mischief, brushing your fingers down his abs, and Katsuki was gone. Under your spell. Addicted.

He should’ve stopped. Should’ve told you the truth. But how could he? You smiled at him like he built you a second sun. And maybe… maybe he wanted to be loved like that. Even if it was built on a lie.

The days blurred sweetly after that night.

It wasn’t love—no one dared to say it out loud—but whatever it was, it bled into everything. The way he kissed you like he needed it. The way you leaned into him like he was home. You were always near now, a fixture in his space and mind—wearing his hoodies, curling up on his lap while he worked on a thermodynamics worksheet he half-understood, sneaking bites of his snacks like you had the right.

He still hadn’t told you the truth.

And sometimes, when you smiled too wide or kissed him just because, that guilt threatened to crack open in his chest. But he stuffed it down. Kept pretending. Because pretending felt good. It felt real.

Then came the night of yet another Sigma Vex party.

You didn’t even argue this time. When he offered to pick you up, you said yes. When he threw his varsity jacket over your shoulders before walking into the frat house, you smiled at him so sweetly that his teeth could rot. And when the music thrummed through the walls and neon lights painted your skin, you didn’t leave his side once.

It was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

You sat curled in his lap on one of the leather couches, your legs draped across his like it was the most natural thing. He had one arm slung over your waist, thumb stroking absent-minded circles into your hip. Your head leaned against his shoulder, warm and light and so real it made his breath catch.

He didn’t care that his brothers watched. Didn’t give a damn about their smirks or side-eyes. You were his. Whether it was fake, temporary, or tangled in lies—right now, it felt true.

You brushed your lips against his jaw. “Need another drink?”

He gave a lazy hum. “Only if you’re gettin’ one too.”

“I’ll be right back,” you teased, slipping off his lap with a soft smile, the weight of you leaving his legs like losing warmth.

And then you were gone—just for a minute. It wasn’t a big deal. You’d come back, sit in his lap again, maybe he'd sneak you into the upstairs bedroom later. That’s what he thought.

But the universe had other plans.

You slipped into the kitchen, fingers curling around two red cups. The music was duller here, muffled behind thick walls. The party felt far away. You poured the drinks without thinking, still smiling to yourself.

Then a presence stumbled up beside you, reeking of cheap tequila and sweat.

“Heyyyy, you're kinda hooot” the guy slurred, squinting. “You’re from the art department, right?”

You turned slightly, confused but polite. “Yeah?”

He blinked. His eyes lit up like he’d just solved a math problem with crayons. “Wait. Wait, wait—you’re that girl. From the last party! Holy shit.”

You froze.

He grinned like this was the funniest thing in the world. “Prez actually did it. I can’t fuckin’ believe it.”

You frowned, your stomach dipping. “...Did what?”

“Oh, y’know—the bet. Back when you ran outta the first party like your ass was on fire? He was gonna lose that fancy-ass Porsche if he didn’t hit it by midterms. But he did! He won! Got in there fast, too—less than a month!”

Your hands shook. Your mouth went dry. The words didn’t compute at first. They sat there, echoing, buzzing around your brain like static. But they didn’t make sense.

“What… bet?” you asked, the words catching in your throat.

Before he could dig the hole any deeper, Kaminari appeared in the doorway like a lifeline. “Oi! Kimura. Shut. Up.”

But Kimura didn’t notice the sharp edge in his tone. “What? I’m just sayin’—it’s crazy, right? Prez really went all in. Said he’d make her beg for it—”

The drink slipped from your hand and crashed to the floor. The silence was immediate.

Kimura blinked. You stood there, the world around you slipping sideways. Kaminari’s jaw was tight, his eyes full of panic, like someone just pulled the fire alarm and everyone else kept dancing.

“Oh, shit-” Kimura muttered. “I fucked up.”

Your vision blurred.

There was a bet. There was a bet. You were the punchline. The game.

And suddenly, every sweet thing he ever did, every kiss, every look, every whispered promise—it all felt like poison sinking into your skin.

He played you. He chose to. And worst of all—you had no idea how much of it had ever been real.

You didn’t mean to storm out like that. But your legs are already moving, fueled by instinct. By betrayal. By the cold slap of reality that hit you like a freight train in that fucking kitchen. The hallway blurs. Laughter and music fade behind you. The buzz of the party becomes background noise to the pounding of your heart.

And then—You pass the living room. He’s still there.

Katsuki sits on that stupid black leather couch like he owns the room, like he owns the night. But when his gaze catches yours—when he sees the fire in your eyes, the betrayal carved into every line of your face—his whole world tilts.

His body tenses. He knows. No, you knew.

And you don’t even stop. You don’t scream. You don’t cry. You just walk past him like he’s nothing—like he never meant anything. And that? That hits harder than any slap could’ve. You slam open the front door.

“Wait—!” his voice tears through the air like thunder.

Then footsteps. Fast. Heavy. You don’t even get two steps into the driveway before he catches up. A warm hand wraps around your wrist, desperate, trembling with panic.

“Baby, wait—let me explain—please—”

You stop. And then you snap. You whirl around, eyes blazing like wildfire, and rip your arm from his grip. The motion is sharp. Violent. Final.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Your voice splits the night. He stares at you—shell-shocked. He’s never heard you yell like that. Never seen you this raw. This hurt. You’re trembling. Not from fear. From fury. From heartbreak. Your voice cracks but you don’t fall apart. You refuse to fall apart in front of him. Not him. Not now.

“You think you could play me?” you breathe, voice shaking as tears finally sting your eyes. “You think you could lie to my face, touch me however you want, make me feel things—only to laugh about it later with your frat brothers?”

He tries to speak—his mouth opens, closes again like he’s drowning. “No—no, that’s not—baby, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

"After everything... You did all of this for what? To get back at me for rejecting you once? What? Your shitty pride and reputation got the better of you?"

And then the tears start. Hot and slow, streaking your cheeks without permission. You’re not sobbing. You’re not even making a sound. You just look at him like he set fire to everything you’ve ever built.

Like you don’t recognize him anymore.

Like you wish you never met him.

“Was taking my virginity also part of your bet?” You asked him, but he couldn't give you an answer.

It was impossible for you to believe at this point. “Don’t fucking follow me,” you whisper. Your voice is hoarse now. Wrecked. “Just… don’t.”

You turn. You leave. And this time, he doesn’t stop you. He stays there on the pavement, frozen, winded like you just punched him straight in the chest. Because watching you walk away like that—seeing the light go out in your eyes when you looked at him—hurts more than anything else ever has.

Later that night…

Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, phone clenched in his hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to this damn world. His thumb hovered over your contact—again.

Call Ended.Missed Call (30).

He tried again. Straight to voicemail.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling with a panic that refused to quiet. He keeps on spamming your phone with messages you won't even see.

baby, pleaselet me explainplease answer my callsfuck, i'm sorry. i didn’t mean it like this please baby let me explain i didn’t mean for this to happenbaby, please answer the call

Delivered. Delivered. Delivered.

Your phone sat abandoned on your nightstand—screen facedown, volume turned off. You didn’t even glance at it.

You were curled up in bed, blanket pulled over your head like it could shield you from the ache in your chest. Your pillow was already wet with tears. Your fists were balled against your chest, throat raw from sobbing until your voice gave out.

You weren’t ignoring him. You were just too heartbroken to care.

And in that silence, Katsuki was left to sit alone in his room, fingers clenched around his phone, jaw tight, heart sinking lower with every minute you didn’t pick up.

You didn’t need to say a single word.

Your silence screamed louder than anything else ever could.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Part 5 is in the making! will be finished and posted as soon as possible!

Check the full series here: Get Even

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

EMERGENCY WRITING COMMISSION OPEN

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[shanklin]

It’s Stan’s 2nd time in prison and he is bored.

The food is edible, his cellmates are quiet and polite and even the guards treat him with the bare minimum of respect.

Needless to say, Stan hates it. 

Boredom means Stan has time to think about what could’ve been if he had been smarter, better and more like Ford.

If Stan had just known how to fix Ford’s project, maybe he’d still be someone worth keeping around.

With nothing better to do, Stan one day decides to visit the prison library and finds a few boxes full of engineering textbooks abandoned in a corner.

What if Stan could’ve fixed Ford’s project. Could it even have been possible?

Stan swallows hard and picks up the first book.

Meanwhile on the other side of the continent.

“Oh no no no.”

“What is it Fiddleford?”

“I donated the wrong books! All my notes and corrections were in there…”

Stan snorts as he keeps on reading. This McGucket fellow was hilarious.

The book by itself would’ve never kept Stan’s attention, but the notes, snarky remarks, blueprints for villainous contraptions and death rays? Now that’s the stuff!

Over the next months Stan devours one book after the other and when he finally gets released he’s allowed to take the boxes with him as a thank you for fixing and improving the prison’s new experimental computer system.

***

A couple of years later Fiddleford opens the door to a little robot stomping around on the front porch. Mechanical legs on a toaster body with googly eyes that Fiddleford suspects can see more meets the eye.

He kneels down to inspect the cute little fellow when it suddenly notices him, vibrates and starts to talk.

“THANK. YOU. FOR. THE. BOOKS. NERD.”

Fiddleford has no time to figure out what that means before a book shoots out from the slot and hits him right in the head.

“HA. HA. HA.”

The little bot laughs and explodes into fireworks.

Fiddleford watches the show in amazement and inspects his present.

Beginners Guide to Mechanical Engineering

But not any guide. His guide. The one he carried with him throughout college and kept improving upon whenever he could. 

Only now there are more notes added. Corrections to his corrections, complaints about his design choices and disagreements with his theories.

Oh, it’s on!

***

It takes a few days to find the person behind the little prank, an anonymous entrepreneur who is said to be self taught and on the verge of reinventing the world of computers and robotics as they know it. 

Things that people have also been saying about Fiddleford himself.

Fiddleford laughs in delight. He always liked a friendly competition!

So he sends his new rival a little killer robot of his own as a greeting.

***

If Stanford had known what asking his old college buddy to help him out with the portal would entail he would’ve thought twice about inviting him.

It’s not like he isn’t happy for Fiddleford. He clearly found a like minded individual with the same passion for destruction as himself but would it kill them to keep it quiet for once? Stanford is doing important work here!

[Besides if Stanford wanted to he could totally build robots as well. Better ones even. Fiddleford shouldn’t spend so much of his free time fighting with his rival when his best friend was right here!]

Stanford sighs as yet another explosion causes the ground to shake and feels something push against his leg. 

It’s a little possum-like robot bringing him a bottle of water courtesy of Fiddleford’s rival.

Apparently this mystery person felt bad about destroying Stanford’s house one time too many and gifted him this little helper as an apology.

Try as he might, Stanford is unable to hate the thing and lets it climb onto his lap.

“At least you want to keep me company, hm?”

He strokes the fake fur carefully and the robot rumbles in contentment. It feels nostalgic and he knows Stanley would’ve loved it.

Maybe Ford should call him.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Engines and Affections

Pairing: Poly 141 x Assistant!reader

AU: Mechanic 141

Warning: fluff, the boys are a bit touchy

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, it’s not poly until about half way through. I had to change a lot of this because it was similar to someone’s post that they posted so this is the newer one

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The air at Price’s Auto Garage buzzed with the sound of engines and tools, the usual symphony of work that set the place alive each day. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost moved around the garage with quiet confidence, focused on their tasks. They were the best at what they did, hands skilled and practiced, but the front desk? It was a mess. Calls went unanswered, invoices piled up, and the schedule was a puzzle no one had time to piece together. Price finally decided they needed help at the front.

The moment you walked in for the interview, they noticed.

You stood in the doorway, posture relaxed, radiating a confident smile as you scanned the space. Even though garages weren't exactly familiar territory, you weren’t about to let that show. Price gave you a welcoming nod, gesturing you inside, while Soap looked you over with a smirk, already leaning against a toolbox. Gaz offered a warm smile, while Ghost stood off to the side, arms crossed, as unreadable as ever.

Price glanced through your resume with a quick nod, but it was clear they’d made up their minds as soon as you walked in. A few questions later, and the job was yours.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the midst of the garage’s organized chaos. The phone rang constantly, schedules made only partial sense, and sometimes, the invoices looked like a language of their own. You tried your best to keep up, but this was a whole new world.

“Ah, I think… these are for you?” You handed Price a stack of papers one morning, hesitating when his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Love, these are last week’s invoices.” Price held back a chuckle, his eyes kind even as he gently corrected you. “I’ll show you how we sort ’em out, alright?”

His large hands guided yours through the stacks, showing you the little tricks they used to keep things organized. He took his time, explaining everything patiently, his voice low and calm as he brushed your shoulder every now and then. By the end of it, you had a better grasp—sort of.

Soap, however, took a different approach. Every few hours, he’d call you over, pulling you away from your desk to check out whatever project he was working on.

“Oi, lass, come look at this,” he called out one afternoon, grinning as he waved you over to the car he was working on.

You tried to seem interested, leaning in as he explained the engine in detail, even though the terms were lost on you. Your confidence started slipping as he talked about pistons, valves, and all kinds of parts you’d never heard of, but you nodded along, pretending to understand.

“See this part here?” He pointed, smirking as you leaned in closer, glancing from him to the engine.

“Oh, yeah! The… thing,” you managed, biting back a laugh when he rolled his eyes, grinning even wider.

“You’ve no idea what I’m on about, do ya?” He chuckled, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Don’t worry, lass, I’ll teach ya everything I know. Might just take a bit.”

Despite your confusion, his excitement was infectious, and you found yourself laughing along, even if you still didn’t understand a word.

Gaz was the one who always made sure you felt comfortable, sensing when you were a bit overwhelmed. Every morning, he’d bring you a coffee, setting it on your desk with a small smile.

“To keep you sharp,” he said with a wink, and you’d thank him, feeling a little less lost in the unfamiliar world of auto repairs.

One afternoon, as you struggled with the printer again, Gaz appeared by your side. He’d noticed your mounting frustration and stepped in without a word, reaching over to press a few buttons with expert ease.

“Here, let me show you.” His hand rested on yours as he guided you through the steps, his voice soft and patient. You felt his presence close beside you, his attention entirely on helping you, and your nerves calmed as you finally figured out the tricky machine.

“You’re getting it,” he said with an approving nod, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer before he stepped back, a quiet sense of pride in his smile.

Ghost, meanwhile, kept his distance—until you made a mistake too big for him to ignore. One evening, you’d accidentally given the wrong keys to a customer, causing a brief mix-up in the garage. Ghost’s expression was steely as he came over to you, clearly unimpressed.

“These keys belong to the truck in the back,” he said, his tone gruff but calm as he held them out to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just—” You stammered, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze.

He took a slow breath, running a hand over his face before meeting your eyes again. “Just double-check before you hand ’em out next time, alright?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, but Ghost’s expression softened almost imperceptibly when he noticed your nervousness. Later, he quietly came over, placing the keys in their correct spots while you watched, making sure you’d gotten it right.

“Just remember,” he said, his voice low, “no rush. Take your time.” And with a small nod, he returned to his work, his rare show of patience lingering with you.

---

One rainy evening, as you prepared to leave, you stood by the door, staring at the downpour. You’d forgotten your jacket, and with the way the rain was coming down, you’d be soaked in minutes.

Ghost was passing by, his eyes flicking between you and the rain outside. He let out a sigh, already pulling out his keys. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Surprised, you followed him to his truck, slipping into the passenger seat as he climbed in. The ride was quiet but comfortable, the steady rhythm of the rain filling the silence. His presence was somehow reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing, even sneaking a few glances at him as he drove.

“Thanks for this,” you murmured as he pulled up to your place, his gaze still fixed forward.

He gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just get yourself a jacket next time.” But the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and you knew he didn’t mind.

After that night, you’d started to find your rhythm in the garage. The guys were quick to help when you needed it, and slowly, you felt like part of the team. The way they each looked out for you in their own way brought you a quiet sense of belonging that you hadn’t expected, making the unfamiliar chaos of the garage feel like somewhere you could finally call home.

——

Over the next few months, the garage became more than just a workplace—it became a second home. The guys were always there, whether to lend a hand, share a laugh, or tease you about some new mistake. You noticed how each of them had their own way of making sure you were taken care of. And somewhere along the way, your small, shared moments with each of them started to feel… different.

Price became more attentive, stopping by your desk to chat with you about your day, his warm gaze lingering a moment too long. Soap’s teasing got softer, almost affectionate, his laughs filled with genuine happiness when he saw you smile. Gaz made a habit of bringing you coffee every morning, but now he’d stay a little longer, brushing your hand as he passed the cup, his gaze lingering on your lips. Even Ghost, usually distant, had become gentler, staying around the garage a little longer just to make sure you got home safe.

The four men started to notice each other’s shifts in behavior too. What was once harmless camaraderie and teamwork started to feel like an unspoken rivalry, each of them vying for more of your attention. Eventually, it reached a tipping point, and one late night at the garage, they decided to address it head-on.

“Alright, lads,” Price began, crossing his arms as he looked at the others. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Soap scoffed, trying to brush it off. “You mean the way you get all soft whenever she’s around?” he said, though there was no real bite to his tone.

Gaz chuckled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “We all know it’s not just Price. Let’s be honest with ourselves here.”

Ghost, silent as ever, watched the others, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Guess we’ve all got feelings for her. Question is, what’re we gonna do about it?”

They sat in silence for a moment, each processing the quiet admission that their feelings ran deeper than simple friendship. Price broke the silence, his voice firm yet understanding.

“We’re not just co-workers; we’re a team,” he said. “So, if we’re all on the same page about her, then maybe it’s time we tell her.”

A few days later, the four of them gathered the courage to bring up the subject with you. It was the end of a long workday, and you were about to head home when Price called you over, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

As you walked into the main garage, the four of them stood there, exchanging glances as if silently confirming that this was the right moment. You felt your heart race, sensing that whatever was about to happen was important.

Price cleared his throat, his usual steady demeanor softening as he looked at you. “We, uh… have something we need to talk to you about. All of us.”

Confused, you looked between them, giving a small nod. “Okay, I’m listening.”

They each took turns explaining, their words stumbling a little at first but then gaining confidence as they shared their feelings. Price told you how much he admired your kindness and resilience, how you made the garage feel like home. Soap shared how much he loved making you laugh, how your presence was the highlight of his day. Gaz spoke of his protective instincts, how he felt compelled to make you happy. Even Ghost, usually guarded, admitted in his own quiet way that he’d come to care about you deeply.

It was overwhelming but touching, hearing each of them express feelings that you hadn’t dared to think might be mutual. Finally, Price looked at you, his eyes searching yours with a question that didn’t need words.

“Would you be open to… to something with all of us?” he asked gently.

It took a moment for you to process what they were asking, but as you looked at each of them, you realized that the idea didn’t scare you—in fact, it felt right.

“I… I would be,” you admitted, smiling as their tense expressions melted into ones of relief and happiness.

From that point on, your relationships with them grew deeper and more intimate. You shared quiet mornings with Gaz, who’d bring you coffee and pull you close, his arm around you as you eased into the day together. Soap’s playful teasing turned more flirtatious, his laughter warm as he’d brush your hair back, stealing little kisses when no one was looking. Price had a way of grounding you, his strong arms always there to wrap around you at the end of a long day, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your forehead that made you feel safe. And Ghost, though still reserved, became more open, offering a gentle touch here and there, his presence comforting in a way that words couldn’t quite describe.

One evening, after closing up shop, you found yourself nestled between them on the worn leather couch in the break room. Gaz leaned close, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, while Soap’s arm draped across your shoulders, pulling you close as he whispered jokes in your ear, his voice warm and soft. Price sat at your side, his hand resting on your knee, thumb drawing small circles as he met your gaze with a soft smile, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding.

And Ghost, ever the silent observer, brushed a gentle hand over your shoulder, his fingers lingering at your neck. You felt their affection surrounding you, each of them bringing their own unique warmth and comfort, and you knew that this—this closeness, this shared connection—was something rare, something to be cherished.

Over time, your moments together grew more intimate. The nights you spent with them were full of whispered words and gentle touches, each one of them showing their love in their own way. Soap’s playful nature softened, his teasing replaced with gentle affection as he held you close, his laughter quiet as he stroked your hair. Gaz would pull you into his lap, his hands warm against your back as he kissed you deeply, his eyes filled with warmth as he traced his thumb over your cheek. Price, always steady, would hold you close, his presence reassuring as he kissed you with a softness that made you feel cherished, his voice low as he murmured words of love.

And Ghost, though still quieter than the others, would sit beside you, his fingers brushing over yours, his touch reverent as he watched you with a gaze that spoke volumes. When he held you, it was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him.

In these shared moments, you found a kind of love and connection that you’d never known. Together, you formed a bond stronger than any you’d ever imagined, a family bound by love and trust. And in their arms, surrounded by their warmth, you knew you’d found a home, one where you were loved wholly and completely by each of them.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

[inthekitschen]

I've been jotting down ideas for a Stan Pines x reader story set after ford gets sucked into the portal where they're trying to get him back so let me know if this is anything

You're a gravity falls local

One of the only people in town who acknowledge the supernatural so Ford hires you as a field guide

Basically a STEM major vs humanities major dynamic where every time Ford tries to poke and prod the flora and fauna you're like "hey don't do that actually"

You try to tell Ford the portal is a bad idea but he doesn't listen so you leave

When you come back months later, it doesn't take long to realize Ford isn't Ford

Stan initially assumes you're Ford's ex and tries to get you to back off, but when you reveal you know about the portal and his research, Stan accepts your help

He tells you a very embellished version of events; essentially that the portal just magically turned on by itself and he valiantly tried to save Ford's life

The issue is that you aren't a super genius/mechanical engineer/portal builder, you have about as much knowledge on how to get the portal back up and running as Stan

It's a very tense initial working relationship

He runs the mystery shack to get more money, you try to figure out how to get Ford back with one journal and try to find the others

Over time you and Stan actually bond

You show him the woods aren't as dangerous as he thinks and almost get crushed by Steve in the process

As you get closer, Ford's absence only grows

Even though you insist that you and Ford never had a romantic relationship, Stan is convinced that Ford must have had a thing for you because how could he not

Basically he just projects his own feelings for you onto his missing brother for drama because he thinks he doesn't deserve you and needs an excuse to stay miserable

Eventually comes to a head in an explosive (literally?) confession

Some one shot ideas I have for this storyline:

Shermy's wedding, you're Stan's plus one and have to help him convince his family that he's Ford. Angsty, hurt/comfort, only one bed

Stan's first pioneer day. Humor, fluff, the backstory of why Stan hates pioneer day so much.

Showing Stan the whimsy of the woods. Fluff, fluff, and more fluff.

You get hurt working on the portal. Hurt/comfort, sickfic(?), fluff

Let me know if any of this interests you! I'm deep in my gravity falls fixation right now and would love to know I'm not alone lol.

[alex31624]

What do you see the kids doing in the future?

Great ask.

I feel like Huey belongs in the science field. Working at McDuck Labs, first as an intern, then as a scientist. He would have a PhD. He would eventually become the head of the lab. The Junior Woodchucks are an important part of Huey; I don't see him leaving that part of his life behind. Like Launchpad, Huey would be in charge of the Duckburg troop, guiding the new talents.

Dewey wants to do everything and try everything. He's a singer, an actor, a semi-professional golfer, a professional wrestler, a professional pilot, and an adventurer. He goes where he feels he needs to go.

Part of my headcanon is that Louie paints, and it's an important part of his life. Let's go a little outside the box with him and say he made it his profession. A famous, established, and millionaire painter. Perfect for him. Still, he makes time to run a profitable business, which we'll talk about later.

Webby is an adventurer, you can't take her out of her element. She explores the world and discovers its secrets. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the company of her family and friends. She's also a S.H.U.S.H. field agent.

May works in fashion. She started as Daisy's apprentice, then developed her own style and is now a famous couturier. She also writes, having published a few horror and mystery books. They're not a global phenomenon, but she has a loyal fanbase. Of course, she also joined S.H.U.S.H., but she was later transferred to The Agency, where she conducts even more secret operations. The codename she inherited is Double Duck. Yes, she's her father's successor.

June is a mechanical engineer. She also works at McDuck Labs and sometimes argues with Huey over projects. And while she loves her job, her night shift motivates her even more, as she patrols the streets of Duckburg under the mask of Duck Avenger. That's right, she also inherited an alter ego from her father. Of course, Uno is her faithful ally.

Lena runs a magical creature control and enchantment business. If you're having trouble with harpies, if ghosts are keeping you awake, if you've fallen under a voodoo curse, Lena is the one to call. Her work takes her all over the world, where she also takes the opportunity to help homeless children. No one should have to go through what she went through. The business is run by Louie, and the two are happily married.

Violet is also a scientist, but unlike Huey, she can't do a deskjob. Violet joins Webby and Lena on their expeditions to investigate the secrets of the world, the biology of magical creatures, and other mysteries. She has several published works and won several awards. She is happily married to Huey.

B.O.Y.D. is another scientist, and also works for McDuck Labs. Technically Huey's second-in-command, the two best friends prefer to call themselves co-heads of the lab. Gyro has upgraded his body every year so he can grow alongside his friends. He supports Lena in her quest to improve the living conditions of homeless children. Happily married to May.

Gosalyn is a hero. The vigilante who watches over St. Canard under the mask of Quiverwing Quack. Unlike Darkwing, she has no problem teaming up with another hero, making the duo of Quiverwing Quack and Duck Avenger the most feared by criminals. Her day job is as a professional hockey player, because did we really think Gosalyn would do anything else? They aren't officially married, but she and Dewey might as well be.

Thanks for the ask @conman-17, hope you liked it.

[lilyisprtty]

ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ

synopsis: you are one of the best female racers ever, and the best racer on the nissan team, everything was regular until you got a call from your former racing coach to be an assistant chief engineer for a gran turismo program.

warnings: unprotected p in v (beg you wrap it before you fap it), soft dom! jann, spanking, accidental creampie, hand on neck action, teasing, implied freaky stuff, semi-quick burn.. ., use of [y/f/n] (your first name) and [y/l/n] (your last name).

pinterest board for visualisation

song with the fic vibe

a/n: ugh wow

you had just come off the track after a vigorous training session for upcoming races, you took off your helmet and balaclava revealing a sweaty face.

"ah, you, jack called you like an hour ago." your team leader notified you as he passed your phone over.

you called jack back and put the phone up to your ear as you walked circles around the garage that held your car.

"too busy for me now bigshot?" jack jokes.

"well yes, but what do you need? you haven't called since like, last year. you know when you signed to be a mechanic for some dick?" you quip, hand on your hip as you continue your laps.

"not funny. but yeah i need well, you. to be assistant chief engineer for me. nissan signed a program that has a goal of getting people who play a racing simulator to race actual race cars." he explains.

you choke out a laugh, expecting that to be some odd joke he expects you to follow.

"i'm not kidding." he follows up, hearing your reaction.

"jesus, i mean, you know i'll do it, but that's sort of fucked, no?" you ask out of pure concern.

"tell me about it."

so you are now here! standing amongst 10 people around your age who want to learn how to drive race cars with the minimal experience of doing it virtually. you stand tall and proud next to jack as he makes his demeaning speech. he approaches a particular towering fellow, whom jack has to make a comment to. he can't seem to keep his eyes off you, looking drastically you to and then away and biting his lip in a nervous manner. tilting your head in reaction, wondering what's his issue.

after jack walks off and the group of young women and men disperse a bit, talking about this god given opportunity, you approach the guy who you seem to have a melting effect on.

"hey, you alright?" you hum, hands behind your back and leaning towards him.

he does a double take as he takes in the fact you're speaking to him, a hesitant finger points at his chest, mumbling a little "me?".

"i'm- i'm fine. holy shit you're [y/f/n] [y/l/n]." he mutters, his eyes wide as he looks down at you, hands faltering around his face.

you giggle as you recognise that he's not experiencing a medical issue or you looked odd, but he was fangirling. "ah i see, big fan are you? get it, cause you're like, huge." you pun, shoving his arm gently in a friendly intention. he lets out a nervous, awkward laugh as he holds onto the spot you just touched.

"yes- yes, yes, yes i am, you have one of the fastest lap times in the world and, and your car is just legendary, and even after that crash you had- that speech for the victims- it's just wow-" he rambles on about you and you can't help but admire his features. hm. pretty. pretty indeed.

"i need you to breathe! god that was probably faster than my lap record. listen, i'll look out for you okay? you're sweet." you respond, giving him a soft smile, walking away to see where you'll be staying for the many nights you'll be here.

"you're- you're so much sweeter." he mumbles breathlessly as he watches you walk.

it wasn't long before you were seeing many people get dropped from the project, you were the one to give them meaningful goodbyes while jack shooed them away. you'd drive in your race car (yes its a girly pink.), following the drivers from a distance, guiding certain drivers while jack guided a certain others. the day of jann's rather problematic crash, he was obviously being guided by jack.

you take a stand in the lessons that jack teaches, when it came to him lecturing jann you couldn't help but like when jann stood up for himself. some confidence and sureness you need to do that. overall you were finding yourself wanting to be around him more. comforting him after the unfortunate crash, giving him tips on the areas he struggled on, and telling him fun race stories you experienced.

the overwhelming feeling to talk to jack about his overwhelming lecture on jack this lesson took over.

"listen, i'm going to drive the car that was used in the crash, and if those brakes are glazed you owe him an apology." you state. arms crossed and leaned against the many desks.

"i don't get why you are getting so defensive over this guy! you seriously want me to apologise? [y/n] it's too expected for these guys to make mistakes-" jack argues, standing in front of you, gesturing with his arms enthusiastically.

"if those brakes turn out to be glazed, yes you're going to apologise. if not, you can reprimand him all you want. you need to be sure about these type of things before scolding them, you out of all people should know that being told something you know is dreadful." you counter, giving him a knowing look which he sighs to in response, utter agreements under his breath.

you walk into the gym with a big grin painted onto your face, your helmet in one hand as your figure sits snug into your race suit. you go to greet jann who's working on the treadmill, making him take out an airpod. he returns your smile.

"those brakes could not be more glazed, jann." you assure, watching his face brighten.

"which means.. you'll be by my side for a bit longer now." you hum teasingly, holding his eye contact for a few minutes longer before giving him a nod and beginning your way out the gym, jann's mouth lays agape, his treadmill reaches a stop. you hear his loud cries of triumph from behind you, bringing you into a subtle pit of laughter.

not too long after you're sat in janns bed in the shared dorms, you've been resting with him since the first week he was here due to you guys staying up and talking so much, why not bring it into the bedroom? you're tucked in under the duvet, the other 3 are sleeping peacefully, you fiddle with your hands as jann leaves the bathroom, his coils wrapped in satin and baggy shorts sitting at his waist. jann wraps himself in the duvet beside you, an arm institutively wrapping around you. you cup his face in your hands, his pupils dilating in response to the physical affection.

"i see so much potential in you jann. it's unfathomable." you purr, slowly leaning your forehead onto his.

"you're perfect." he whispers, he moves his head, nudging your nose against his, he keeps nudging lower and lower until your lips are tickling each other. you're a bit taken a back by his sudden, intimate response, he seems incapable of having a conversation with you without showering you with praise.

"we should go to the bathroom." you suggest, looking into his comforting eyes that blink yes, he's on his feet in an instant, steadily guiding you into the rather large bathroom. jann leads you up against a wall slamming his lips onto yours, a large hand snaking up to your neck, a subtle grip but you for some reason cannot find any negative or aggressive intention in it. your arms rest on his shoulders, letting him take control of this moment. you can't help but lift your hips up from the wall you're leant up against, wanting more from him.

"needy girl." he mutters into your mouth.

huge, manly hands take an unholy grip on your lively hips and grinds you against his hard and even livelier cock.

"you feel it, baby? 'ts all for you." he states in your ear before nibbling at the lobe. you can't help but whine in response, sucking in air through your teeth as you try to comprehend his big package.

"you want it?" jann prompts, when you nod, he responds:

"tell me you want it." he commands, leaning his back on the sink, slightly out of breath, looking at you to impress him.

i mean, you're not the one to perform usually but, you slip off your pyjama shorts and leave your pretty, pastel panties on. your palms rest upon the cold tile of the bathroom wall, your back arched and backside wiggling subtly in the air as you push your panties to the side to show the affect jann has on you.

a faltering, subtle gasp is evoked from the 6'5 racer behind you. "i have to be dreaming." he stutters out before laying a smack on your plump ass cheek, stimulating a moan from you. "fuckin' perfect." he utters before taking out his heavy dick and laying it between your ass cheeks,

"ready princess?" he asks, a reassuring hand, the one that just slapped your backside, on your lower back.

"yes, please." you whine, wiggling your ass more, resulting in little agreements from jann. the feeling of his dick filling you up inch by inch is a significant feeling you don't plan on forgetting. your mouth is dragged open, eyes are scrunched up and you can't help but feel like your expression is matching jann's. he finds his pace almost instantly, trying to avoid making it too noisy by setting a slow, hard momentum.

"f-feel so good-, holy shi-" jann stammers, asserting a grip onto your hips as he thrusts. the bathroom fills with hesitant moans and whimpers and the smell of sex. your hips smach back at his, that and your cunt clinging to him is enough for janns eyes to roll back. his tense balls smacking against your cunt is enough to send you the signal that he's close to the edge, you've reached the point of having your hand smacked against your mouth in attempt to prevent your mewls to escape.

"f-finishing." jann warns, his thrusts stumbling and face beginning to sweat, his hands grabbing at your ass like dough. you're thinking he's alright for a few more minutes but a few seconds pass and you're being filled to the brim with his cum, relieving moans escape yours and jann's mouth, the two of you not being bothered by the potential pregnancy that might have occurred is the most concerning aspect.

"m'sorry, so sorry, i thought i could hold it-" jann stumbles, you cut him off before he can say anymore, standing up and fixing up your panties, not letting any more cum escape.

"eh, could be done by someone worse." you grin teasingly, as he chuckles awkwardly at your relaxation with what he's just done.

"alright pretty. so what, racer kids?"

taglist: @firemenenthusiast @orngeblossm @flipsconhelado

[soclonely]

Hello friend! I hope you are doing well! May we receive a clones as non-military jobs?

Oh! You mean like what happened in canon after the clone wars when the Separatists and Republic found out they were being played, Palpatine was yeeted into oblivion, Anakin left the order and became a trophy husband to Padme and pod racer mechanic, and Bail Organa took over the Senate? :')) yeah! of course! Rex- I am always going to be here for Life Coach or Career Counselor Rex.

Echo- Middle school history teacher, specifically dealing with 7th graders (which he is good at because sometimes Fives has the maturity of a 14 year old)

Fives- Stand up comedian. He is funny, he has stories to share, and loves making people laugh.

Jesse- personal trainer. I feel like he'd be SOOO supportive and fun to work with.

Kix- Flight attendant. Likes to travel the world on his companies dime

Tup- Van life blogger!

Dogma- assistance principal of a high school.

Hardcase- Oh man, he has charisma. I'd say a car salesman. But he's pretty straight forward about it.

Coric- nutritionist. he wants to take care of people.

Bly- Family photographer (his favorite is catching moments of weddings and newborn family photos)

99- School crossing guard!! Everyone absolutely loves him!

Cody- He's so laid back and chill he's the perfect project manager for a company

Waxer/Boil- Childcare workers or elementary teachers

Wolffe- IT guy. I can imagine him getting SO irritated on the customer service end

Boost/Sinker- oil rig workers

Hunter- Deli owner

Wrecker- Construction site worker!!! Can you imagine the silly lunches he would eat while sitting on a beam?

Tech- Engineer of some kind. I deal with too many engineers to not say this for this clown of a man.

Crosshair- Fire range safety course teacher

Omega- Airline pilot or Zumba instructor

Howzer- with his hair? he works at the local Jamba juice for his entire life!

Fox- free lance editor. all the coffee he wants, makes his own schedule, barely has to deal with people, and I honestly feel like fox would be a big reader

Gregor- Exotic tour guide! he makes it fun and silly for even his most nervous passengers

[o-hora-o]

do you have thoughts about any other researchers/scientists who the NA branch scientists might have known? such as Ford, Bohr, etc? I know you've mentioned them before and I was wondernig if you had thoughts about them.

I'm so thankful for this top-tier question 😭❤️ tho I'm not sure that you expected such delulu answer but I'm a nerd so here we go. To understand who the NA branch/42 lab might have known, we should dive into the world of science lore and go through connections between scientists who lived mostly in the late 19th-first half of the 20th century (hello, Hans Bethe, you 100-year-old cheater).

So, we have these 4 major groups: physicists, inventors/electrical engineers, chemists and mathematicians (yes, some of them can be put into several groups, but don’t mind it pls).  

Of course, this map can be expanded even further but it’d be too much. The main idea here is that all of them kinda knew each other one way or another.

Let's start with the biggest group: Physics

Niels Bohr is undoubtedly one of the biggest figures along with Einstein and Planck. They were like 3 holy spirits who became guiding lights for many other scientists. As a fun fact, Niels was in this Indian mythology fan club too.

For example Albert was fascinated by Hinduism and Buddhism, philosophical and cosmological concepts (the Upanishads text to be precise) and the idea of unity of all existence. So was Carl Jung btw, but he was more into the mythology part itself. Schrödinger, being a sucker for philosophy, was deeply influenced by Upanishads and Vedanta (It can be seen in his What is Life? book where he explored the idea of unity of the self with the universe and the existence of two souls: individual and universal, which was a parallel to how particles behave in the observer's presence). And in Bohr’s case, he was influenced by Hindu cosmology. Just as Erwin, he found parallels to his ideas in Indian philosophy. 

So, as I said, Niels Bohr was one of the most influential physicists and a central figure in the history of quantum mechanics and atomic theory. He was a life-long friend of Einstein but they had a silly relationship: they often debated on the interpretation of quantum mechanics. For example, Bohr was rooting for Copenhagen Interpretation.

The main idea of the Copenhagen Interpretation was that until you look at a particle, it doesn't have a certain position or speed, therefore it exists in different places all at once. But the moment you look at it, it chooses its place and speed. It's as if until you open your eyes, all things around you exist in different states. Feel paranoid now? You can thank Bohr and Heisenberg for that. "It’s not the particles' fault for acting weird, it’s just how the universe works at this super tiny level". But Einstein was skeptical of the view "How can particles be in two places at once? That’s just crazy!" and commented it as “God does not play dice with the universe”. 

So despite different views Einstein and Bohr kept being bff with mutual respect and admiration for each other. Imma just leave it here:

Max Planck, being not only one of the founding fathers of quantum theory but also a father figure to the science world itself, was both Einstein and Bohr’s mentor (Planck’s biography aka driven by vision broken by war is still my angst roman empire help, that was the saddest thing you can read). And Bohr, just like Planck, played a key role in mentoring the following generation of physicists too. 

And this is where we meet Werner Heisenberg, one of Bohr’s most gifted students. Heisenberg aka Uncertainty Principle guy, Heisenberg aka one of the main Architects of Quantum Mechanics guy, Heisenberg aka Schrödinger’s pain in the ass guy.

Friendship between Heisenberg and Bohr was truly a legendary one, Bohr treated Werner like a family member, like a son, but unfortunately this friendship was shattered when Heisenberg took part in the German nuclear project. 

There’s this mysterious story about Heisenberg’s visit to Niels Bohr in nazi-occupied Denmark in September 1941 and the story about unsent letters which were significant episodes in the history of quantum physics. “Mysterious” because it is unknown what exactly they talked about but it is said that during their conversation, Heisenberg seemed to avoid direct discussion about the atomic bomb and its consequences. That meeting was emotionally tense, with Bohr feeling betrayed by Heisenberg. 

It is also said that after the 1941 visit Heisenberg wrote an unsent letter to Bohr. The content of this letter remains unknown but it is known that Heisenberg was deeply upset and troubled by their tense conversation and relationship. Heisenberg had likely tried to express his confusion, regret, or desire to explain himself to Bohr. Some historians say that Heisenberg may have been trying to signal to Bohr that he had not been fully loyal to the German nuclear project or even that he had deliberately slowed its progress. 

In 1943 Bohr fled Denmark to escape the occupation. Before leaving, Bohr wrote an unsent letter to Heisenberg. He wrote how disappointed he was with Heisenberg, Bohr believed that the pursuit of knowledge could not be divorced from the responsibility of how that knowledge was applied. There was also the “Copenhagen” play written by Michael Frayn about this story between the two. Angst fic right there. 

Nevertheless, Werner interacted with many many greatest minds. Planck influenced him deeply and supported his work, Werner’s father was a friend of Sommerfeld, then he studied with Wolfgang Pauli and Max Born was another mentor of his and they both worked on Matrix Mechanics.

Schrödinger aka "I don't like it, and I'm sorry I ever had anything to do with it" guy, Schrödinger aka “I insist upon the view that all is waves” guy, being inspired by Louis de Broglie, had a totally different approach and contrary to Matrix Mechanics he developed Wave Mechanics. Bohr was more of a philosophical mentor-debater to Erwin and even then their relationship was far more distant than the one between Bohr and Heisenberg. Just like Einstein, Erwin was wary of Copenhagen Interpretation. Unlike Einstein, this classical vs modern approaches disagreement became a rift that didn’t let Erwin build a strong bond with Heisenberg or Bohr.

And the funniest part is that Schrödinger’s “cat experiment” was created to prove Copenhagen Interpretation wrong and absurd (though it didn’t contradict Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle).

Once Bohr invited Schrödinger to be his house guest and then started a debate about the Copenhagen Interpretation. He tried to convince Erwin that it was right for several days after which Erwin fell ill and Niel’s wife had to nurse him.

“There was Bohr, the indefatigable debater that he was, sitting on the edge of the bed continuing the debate, oblivious to the late hour, as though he were engaged in the most serious of scientific discussions, while I, in my bed, could hardly keep my eyes open".

Btw De Broglie's theory was inspired by Einstein AND became publicly known because of Einstein. De Broglie's work could have gone unnoticed for years, if Einstein had not paid attention to it. Einstein told Born about this idea and therefore triggered a chain of new theories in the world of quantum mechanics. At that time, physicists listened to every word of Einstein, and as soon as he mentioned de Broglie's ideas in an article, Schrödinger was immediately inspired.

Speaking of Max Born, he was also one of the central figures in the quantum mechanics field and a part of Copenhagen Interpretation club. He first studied mathematics and turned to physics only after finishing his doctorate. Because of that Born wrote his works with exceptional mathematical precision which was very different from Bohr's intricate theoretical sketches, which contained brilliant ideas and physical intuition, but often required refinement in the mathematical part (the curse of many physicists). However, both geniuses were important to a new understanding of atoms. And of course Born knew everyone I mentioned previously and even more since he mentored not only Heisenberg or Oppenheimer but he had many assistants who were also well known physicists.

But let’s go back to the one who had the most connections, Einstein, and look at his relationship with the Curie family (of course Chemistry group can be expanded way more but we’re trying to not go far away from the ae cast here). Even though Albert didn’t have such a strong bond with Curie as he had with Bohr and Planck, he and Marie were great friends who built their friendship on shared experience of being outcasts. In his letter Einstein expressed admiration for her work on radioactivity while Marie was deeply impressed by special theory of relativity. Their friendship is mostly known for Einstein's support during Curie’s scandal in 1911 (Einstein was one of a few who defended her). And in return Marie supported and encouraged Albert’s work that at that time was seen as absurd and outrageous. Moreover they both played important roles in the Solvay Conferences (another science world crossover aside from Manhattan Project). 

Yes, they didn’t work together on scientific projects but instead they just preferred sending letters to each other discussing either work or personal matters like families, concerns about too much public attention or Sklodowska expressing how difficult it was for her to be a woman in the male-scientific world. 

By "concerns about too much public attention" I also mean that Einstein disliked giving interviews. As he once said:

But I can give you this silly anecdote instead:

Since I mentioned how Einstein’s work challenged the science world shaped by Newton, we need to meet a certain astrophysicist in this story. To many, Einstein’s ideas seemed to rock the foundations of classical mechanics which was a true blasphemy. But most importantly, everyone thought that it was unprovable. How to measure the bending of space-time?

And this is where Sir Arthur Eddington appeared on stage, a British astronomer and mathematician.

In 1915 Einstein published his general theory of relativity, which proposed that massive objects like stars and planets could bend space-time. This theory, even more radical than his special theory of relativity, predicted that light could be bent by gravity - a phenomenon that could be tested by observing stars near the Sun during a total solar eclipse. Eddington saw an opportunity. For years, astronomers had speculated about Einstein's theory and the coming eclipse of 1919 would offer Eddington the perfect opportunity to put Einstein’s prediction to the test.

As the moon passed in front of the Sun, they observed stars near the Sun's edge. According to Einstein’s theory, the light from those stars should’ve appeared to shift, bending as it passed near the Sun’s massive gravitational field. Eddington’s results confirmed the prediction. The light had indeed bent, just as Einstein had said it would.

The news sent shockwaves through the scientific community. Einstein’s theory of general relativity had been validated by experiment. The very fabric of space-time, once a mathematical abstraction, became a proven reality. Eddington’s observations were seen as a triumph for the world of physics and for the first time Einstein’s name became known to the wider world. 

In the following years the friendship between Eddington and Einstein deepened. Eddington explained and defended Einstein’s work to the English-speaking world. Their correspondence, filled with mutual respect and admiration, continued until Eddington’s death in 1944.

Of course I also should mention Marcel Grossmann. He was a Swiss mathematician and also Einstein’s friend and a classmate. They had a close work relationship regarding development of General Relativity theory. 

You see, despite the stereotype, Einstein was good in mathematics, but he was more about physical intuition. And since he didn’t have this intuition in mathematics like, for example, Ramanujan, he encountered mathematical problems that were beyond his own skills while developing his theory of General Relativity. Therefore, he needed help from mathematicians like Marcel Grossmann. 

Grossmann was well-versed in the mathematics needed for the theory of General Relativity. He introduced Einstein to mathematical concepts such as Riemannian geometry and Ricci calculus which was much needed for the equations that describe the bending of spacetime in General Relativity. Without Grossmann's help, finding mathematical language to express physical ideas of the theory would’ve been Einstein’s huge headache.  

Aside from Grossmann there was also Hermann Minkowski – another great mathematician and a former professor of Einstein. Instead of assisting in the theory of General Relativity, he helped with the development of Special Relativity theory. Minkowski realized that Einstein's theory could be elegantly expressed in terms of a four-dimensional spacetime through the mathematical language.

While we’re in this Mathematics group, let me introduce you to one of the big heads - John von Neumann. A true legend of many fields and thanks to that he had vast connections (and thanks to participating in the Manhattan Project too).  

One anecdote about the relationship between Einstein and von Neumann comes from von Neumann’s colleague and Einstein’s friend, mathematician Kurt Gödel. According to Gödel, one day, while Einstein was talking with von Neumann, the topic turned to the nature of space and time. Einstein was very passionate about this and more philosophical while von Neumann took a more practical mathematical approach.

"You are thinking about space and time as something fundamental. But we can make it all a product of the way we approach the equations".

Einstein chuckled and remarked:

"Well, John, you have a way of turning the most beautiful ideas into something utterly cold and mechanical".

And of course, Bohr had intense debates about the Interpretation with John too.  But, despite their differences, they respected each other’s intellects, and Bohr even referred to von Neumann as “the cleverest man in the world”.

Von Neumann’s relationship with Enrico Fermi was a close one. Fermi and von Neumann could converse about everything, be it nuclear physics or latest developments in quantum mechanics. Yeah, they shared many interests. Together, their abilities led to some interesting collaborations during the Manhattan Project and in nuclear physics.

My boy, my proud and joy, Richard Feynman, the charismatic and playful physicist (no, really, he was the legendary childish rascal, Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman was a chef’s kiss) who would later become famous for his work in quantum electrodynamics and his ability to dumb down complex ideas (no, really, The Feynman Lectures on Physics -), had a deep admiration for von Neumann and was influenced by von Neumann’s ability to make tough problems elegantly simple.

Yeah, one of the most famous stories about von Neumann is that he was a child prodigy. When he was just six years old, he could divide large numbers in his head. Then, his parents had to hire a tutor to teach him mathematics but the tutor quickly realized that von Neumann was far beyond him. One day, von Neumann’s father gave him a large number and the young John immediately calculated the square root. The father asked him how he could do that and Von Neumann simply replied with "I memorized the tables of square roots".

The reason why it was important to add him here was that not only that he knew mostly everyone but also he knew Alan Turing and Alan Turing is someone lab 42 might have worked with.

Enrico Fermi, usually known for his paradox (shout-out to Remembrance of Earth's Past fans) was also a huge figure in physics, a brilliant man with dry humor who created the first nuclear reactor and took part in the Manhattan Project. 

Fermi and Niels Bohr were two of the central figures in the development of nuclear physics, and their collaboration during the Manhattan Project was essential to the creation of the first atomic bomb. 

Oppenheimer described Fermi’s ability to get to the core of a problem saying:

"When I have a difficult problem, I go to Fermi. He just looks at it, and then, within minutes, tells me what’s wrong and what I should do"

Another Fermi’s famous collaboration was with physicist Leo Szilard, with whom he developed the concept of the first nuclear reactor. 

Szilard and Fermi had this funny interaction during the construction of the reactor:

Szilard: Enrico, are you sure this will work? 

Fermi: *smiles* We’ll know in a few minutes 

Now, the inventors. Let’s talk about Ford and Edison~

They were THE besties. The story of how Ford and Edison met is just dhsdfhfjgh it’s the story of two pioneers who first met in the early 1890s and formed a strong friendship that lasted till the end. 

Ford was kinda an unknown engineer with a huge passion for machinery and innovations who worked at the Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit. One day, Ford got a chance to meet Edison, and according to Ford himself, the encounter was nothing short of life-changing.

"I was just a boy, and when I met Edison for the first time, I had the feeling that I had met the right man at the right time. He was a great influence on me. I was keen to learn how things were done, and he had a way of seeing things that made you want to follow him". 

Ford admired Edison’s vision of using technology to improve everyday life. Ford saw in Edison a kindred spirit, someone who was not afraid of failure and who constantly looked for ways to change the world through innovations (no, fr, the man couldn’t live a day without coming up with new ideas). In return, Edison was impressed with Ford's enthusiasm and his skills in the engineering field.

Ford's dream to build a car and his persistent drive to make things work even when others doubted him resonated deeply with Edison’s own mantra: “Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration”. 

It is said that once Edison told Ford:

"I’ve never met a man who knew so much about engines as you do. I think you’re going to make a lot of progress, young man. You have something inside you." 

These words meant the world to Ford (At that time he was working on his Model T and established his Ford Motor Company which, of course, Edison used to visit). In the 1900s Ford and Edison began to form a deep personal friendship. The two often spent time together at Ford's estate or in Edison's laboratory. 

"Ford is one of the great men of the modern age. He has an instinctive ability to build things, and he's not afraid of taking risks. I think he will be remembered as the man who revolutionized the way people live".

"He taught me to never be afraid of making mistakes. Edison was a man who would look at a failure as nothing more than a step in the direction of success. He always kept moving forward".

In later years, the friendship between Ford and Edison continued to flourish. Moreover, Edison and Ford (+ Harvey Firestone and John Burroughs) had camping trips which became a cherished tradition, they called themselves "Vagabonds" who annually embarked on a journey to reflect on life. Ford became a revolutionary figure of the automobile industry while Edison’s inventions changed the world in ways that Ford could hardly have imagined when they first met.

Edison’s health worsened during the 1920s, he had been suffering from many illnesses but still continued to work in his West Orange laboratory. Ford offered financial and emotional support and was one of the last people to visit Edison before Thomas died in 1931.

Ford wrote:

"It is a great loss, not only to us, but to the whole world. Edison was a man who believed in progress and the power of human imagination. I have always thought of him as one of the greatest minds America has ever known."

Yes, Edison was a world-changing man who was interested in many things, including wireless telegraphy. He even received a patent for the early version of wireless telegraph before Guglielmo Marconi’s breakthrough in the history of radio. But Edison was more focused on the DC (direct current) and even though he was highly competitive, Thomas never fought with Marconi about radio patents. Instead of competing with Marconi, Edison chose war with George Westinghouse. 

In the meantime Tesla was involved both in the radio patents war and AC/DC war. Tesla felt as if Marconi stole his ideas or copied his patents about wireless transmission through radio frequency. Marconi was awarded in 1904 which Tesla felt bitter about, especially since he had the curse of not being recognised by the public. But then in 1943 it was acknowledged that many of Marconi’s innovations were based on Tesla’s earlier work. Unfortunately Tesla died earlier that year. 

And if we talk about the AC/DC war, Tesla was rooting for AC (alternative current), so was Westinghouse. Westinghouse hired Tesla in the 1880s to work on improving the AC and together they successfully competed against Edison. 

"War of Currents" is the most famous rivalry in the history of science and technology.

Edison thought that DC was safer and easier to control. “We will make electricity so cheap that only the rich will burn candles” he said. But Edison’s success was limited by the nature of DC itself, it required power stations to be built very close to where the electricity was used. Tesla, on the other hand, created the AC system that could transmit electricity over long distances, unlike DC.

"I don’t believe that the electric current will ever be the one to be destroyed, I am confident that my system will triumph". And Tesla was right about it.

If you've read this far, you likely share a similar reaction:

------------------The AE hcs------------------

Planck took Ein, Schrödinger, and Bohr (let’s change Niels name to Ellen) under her wing. Emma corresponded with her colleagues, mathematicians and astrophysicists, to help Lieserl prove her theory. It was decided to send Lieserl to London where she studied under Eddington and greatest mathematicians of the time. She eventually stayed at the College, continuing her research there. Meanwhile, Schrödinger and Bohr stayed in the NA branch. At some point Schrodinger escaped Bohr to rehab to finish her work in peace and quiet and Bohr, being bohr-ed out of her mind, entered her mentor era and met Heisenberg. Together, they developed the Copenhagen Interpretation - unfortunately for Schrödinger who returned around then and immediately regretted it. Ellen and Lieserl had a deep passion for cosmology that Emma had introduced them to during the early years of mentoring them. Ellen would often engage in long passionate debates with Ein about the nature of the universe. Her fascination with the cosmos wasn’t the only strong forte of hers for she also loved discussing Indian mythology with Tesla, and at times, Schrödinger would get dragged into these discussions as well. On the other hand, Nancy’s father had been a lifelong friend of Ford and not only her family owned Ford cars but also, after Thomas’s passing, Ford supported Nancy both financially and emotionally. This was crucial as Nancy had inherited the biggest influential company of the country. With Ford’s mentorship, she was able to step into her new role with confidence.

-----------------------------------------------

If someone has more hcs, please be welcome

[helgahaze]

Shine Bright: A Guide to Light Up Your Inner Sun

Astrologically, the Sun is the heart of individuality, a generator of joy, one of the three main sources of energy in the chart. Self-esteem relies on it, as well as self-concepts, the ability to desire, choose what's pleasing, create, and innovate.

A blazing Sun is necessary for self-realization and all forms of healthy relationships, but its most valuable gift is the sense of connection with oneself. When cultivated, a vast number of destabilizing factors and problems dissolve on approach, naturally, like shadows in the light.

It's difficult to manipulate a Sun person. Yet, they're not in constant confrontation with everything and everyone. A blazing Sun merely creates a protective screen in the psyche against external opinions, judgments, and pressures. In a harmonious scenario, it's not a deaf wall of "everything else is irrelevant, I'm all that matters," but a flexible membrane allowing a person to navigate situations and circumstances.

Perpetual lack of strength, interest in life, feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy are astrologically described through tension on the Sun. People with a natal Sun in discord often use phrases like "I don't know who I am/don't understand myself/I don't know what I want." Here lies a nuance that can derail finding a working solution.

"I don't know/don't understand" belongs to the earth-air lexicon of mental forms. The Sun, however, belongs to the fiery principle. Active, self-sufficient, expressive, spontaneous, bright, uncontrollable. It's the drive that arises from within. It ignites and flares up from sincere actions in accordance with one's true nature, not from incoming information. It's lived and integrated into personality through feelings and sensations, not through mechanical fitting and sorting through possible options in the mind.

The task of astrology here is to compute actions that create, sustain, and/or enhance this state of drive.

How to start calculating them?

Make your natal chart in any astroprocessor.

Find in which sign the Sun is placed.

Select the appropriate description from this post.

Test what looks appealing.

Invent your actions with a similar meaning, especially in the spirit of "I've always wanted to try, but somehow never got around to it."

Track the result in the form of excitement, curiosity, joy, the sensation of movement, increased energy.

The target indicator state looks something like this:

If the Sun is afflicted by disruptive aspects or other factors, mechanically performing only these actions won't fix the whole problem. It's a more complex and challenging task requiring an analysis of the entire chart context. But with these actions, it's still better than doing nothing at all. They, at the very least, send a signal inward that the patient is more alive than dead and interested in moving in the desired direction. In other cases, when the Sun is at a functional level, solar hygiene actions increase energy, help strengthen the bond with oneself, and actively support the internal engine's revolutions.

Sun in Aries

Goal: to be first, to initiate, to defeat everyone, to quickly achieve visible results.

Ignites from:

Sports and impulsive activities (sprints, but not marathons).

Entrepreneurship, project launches (starting, but not continuous management).

Publicity, active self-demonstration.

Competition, rivalry.

Creativity in the format of "this is done by my hands, here's the result, I'm better than everyone else".

Sun in Leo

Goal: to play, to shine with oneself, to show off, to be noticeable, to reflect and continue oneself in one's projects.

Ignites from:

Manifestation of spontaneous desires and whims.

Creative activities, realization of the impulse to create something new.

The state of play, feline excitement, when you lose track of time.

Publicity, focusing others' attention on one's uniqueness.

Creativity in the format of "I did this, this is mine, everyone saw it, right?".

Sun in Sagittarius

Goal: to be an authority, to scale up, to live by meanings and goals, to fill space with oneself.

Ignites from:

Studying aimed at expanding and changing one's worldview (ideas, concepts, abstract knowledge).

Teaching, expert performances, public philosophizing, expressing one's opinion.

Active exotic travels, exploratory trips, new experiences that influence one's worldview.

Scalable goal-setting and goal achievement.

Creativity in the format of "what the author wanted to say", the main thing in the creation is the ideas and meanings it conveys.

Sun in Taurus

Goal: to multiply, to stabilize, to experience calm pleasure ("I like this"), to interact with the material.

Ignites from:

Unhurried, measured, productive activities with tangible results.

Wealth, accumulation, collecting.

Receiving income, gifts.

Harmonious demonstration of acquired beauty ("here's my house/my garden, yes, I created this beauty myself, I like it, so I'll show it to you too").

Creativity in the format of "I create beautiful material things".

Sun in Virgo

Goal: to do useful and practical things, to organize, to fix.

Ignites from:

Routine, meticulous activities (sorting papers, wardrobe revisions, arranging books by cover color).

Taking care of beauty and health.

Tangible use that can be provided to others.

Creating practical, aesthetic, detailed designs (jewelry, floristics, interior items).

Creativity in the format of "I create useful beautiful order".

Sun in Capricorn

Goal: to manage, to plan and bring to a concrete result, to structure, to make durable.

Ignites from:

Responsibility, systematic "construction" of oneself and one's life.

Active elevation of one's social and/or professional status, advancement upward in any vertical hierarchy.

Administration, organization, creation and implementation of rules and systems, preferably complex and intricate ones.

Strict luxury, ascetic premium, high quality without flaunting.

Creativity in the format of "I do fundamental and precise work for a specific result".

Sun in Cancer

Goal: to nurture, to surround with care, to live through, to adapt.

Ignites from:

Sensations of simple everyday things (the sun warms, the cat is soft, smells delicious).

Immersion in psychology, studying feelings, emotions, subconscious processes.

Creating coziness at home.

Time spent with loved ones.

Creativity in the format of "I create atmosphere".

Sun in Scorpio

Goal: to intensify, to concentrate, to destroy the obsolete, to manipulate, to expose the essence.

Ignites from:

Thorough research and analysis (psychology, finance, science).

Any kind of energy practices, especially deep and complex ones.

Going through crises and personal transformations in the process.

Sensations of overcoming, risk, adrenaline, limits, and second wind.

Creativity in the format of "I expose the essence and expand the boundaries of what's possible".

Sun in Pisces

Goal: to feel, to sense, to connect with all living things, to believe, to follow an ideal/dream.

Ignites from:

Music, photography, painting and illustration, cinema and theater, literary creativity and poetry (drawing, writing, directing, filming, composing independently).

Dreamy solitude and contact with nature.

Exploring ambiguous mysteries, myths, symbols (from legends and history's puzzles to foreign languages).

Charity and helping those in need.

Creativity in the format of "I create magical worlds and illusions".

Sun in Gemini

Goal: to learn, to educate oneself, to communicate, to be curious.

Ignites from:

Working in multitasking mode.

Continuous circulation of information, satisfying one's own curiosity.

Hangouts, trips and travels.

Acquiring light, superficial, practical knowledge.

Creativity in the format of "I create simple, interesting, and relevant things".

Sun in Libra

Goal: to build relationships, to harmonize, to evaluate, to establish and maintain balance.

Ignites from:

Intellectual conversations.

Positive feedback and recognition from others.

Consultations, discussions, expertise.

Relationships, having connections in circles of certain status.

Creativity in the format of "I create beautiful, refined, and balanced things".

Sun in Aquarius

Goal: to invent, to be free and original, to solve global problems, not to hold back and not to be bored.

Ignites from:

Communication with like-minded people, generating ideas, studying complex concepts (both humanitarian and technical).

Sensations of speed and height, wind in the ears, endless horizon in front of the eyes, impressions.

Working with technologies, future projects, startups, large meaningful tasks.

Antics, jokes, laughter, showing off, absurdity.

Creativity in the format of "I create the future".

Aspects and other individual placements of each chart will complement and transform these values. Here was considered only one element of interpretation out of many—the zodiac sign of the Sun.

[gachabastard]

Limbus Company Sinners as Fallen London Companions

Smashing my two hyperfixations together like dolls and making them kiss. What I'm seeking (lol) to do here is not to conflate the Sinners to existing Companions, but rather create Companions based off of them instead. If you know both things then this won't take any explaining.

For people who know Limbus Company but not Fallen London: Fallen London is a browser game made by Failbetter Studios. It is an alternate history of an 1800s London that has sunk deep below the earth into a subterranean cavern known as the Neath and is now overseen by the mysterious Masters of the Bazaar. You begin the game as a Surface-dweller who has recently descended into the Neath for certain reasons, which you are able to decide for yourself and act upon as you progress through the game. Companions are "equipment" of sorts that you can equip to increase (or lower) your character's stats. A full write-up of FL's mechanics could be another three separate posts on its own, so I recommend the wiki's Beginner's Guide and other resources therein to understand the mechanics I'll detail here. If you enjoy the writing in LCB you will most likely also love FL's writing. Please play it, it is awesome. (And lmk if you do, I'll add you as a friend and definitely not stab you in the back)

For people who know Fallen London but not Limbus Company: Limbus Company is a mobile game made by Project Moon. It is the third in a series of games, preceded by Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina, which are both available for purchase on Steam, though Limbus Company can be played independently of these if you want; the player avatar is an amnesiac so things are generally explained as needed (though Lobcorp and LoR are also very good and I recommend them, but you do have to buy those, so). The game centers around a department of the titular Limbus Company, the Limbus Company Bus Team (often shortened to LCB), the twelve individuals referred to as Sinners who make up the team, and their amnesiac Manager named Dante as they brave the ruins of the old branches of Lobotomy Corporation to retrieve strange objects known as Golden Boughs. All of the major characters in LCB are based off of classic literature (for example, Dante is based off of Dante's Inferno). If you like FL's writing you may enjoy LCB, but it is a gacha game which turns a lot of people off. For character info you can visit the Fandom wiki (yeah I know, it's a Fandom wiki), and if you want to read the story so far without playing the game you can check out this github page which contains all of the story text.

And if you don't know either...I don't know why you're reading this, but I hope my explanations and provided resources are enough to help you understand it regardless.

Okay, wall of text out of the way, let's get into the actual point of the post. This isn't meant to be balanced or anything this is just for fun because I'm diseased. Also LIMBUS SPOILERS THRU CANTO VI sorry.

Starting off with Sinner #1, Yi Sang:

Mirror-Marred Litterateur In the Mirror's glass, he observed endless possibilities. One such possibility observed him back. Watchful +4, Glasswork +2, Bizarre +1

Reasoning: Honestly? I thought about Sang Yi chilling in Parabola and that colored my whole concept here. But for real the whole Mirror thing is too perfect. Yi Sang defines Glasswork.

Sinner #2, Faust

Hell-Touched Engineer She hasn't the eyes of a devil, but builds infernal machinery previously unseen outside of Hell. Claims to know all outcomes, but shares precious little. Dreaded +2, Artisan of the Red Science +2, Decreases Nightmare build up

Reasoning: Something something Faust something something Mephistopheles something something her base EGO heals SP.

Sinner #3, Don Quixote

Dreaming Knight The only weapon stronger than a dream is delusion. Dangerous +5, Mithridacy +2, Increases Scandal build up

Reasoning: DQ is so skilled in Mithridacy she's got herself convinced of untruths, man. She's also allowed little a Scandal. As a treat.

Sinner #4, Ryoshu

Bohemian Blademaster Her masterwork blade is her brush; her enemies, her canvas. Legend has it that even the Boatman respects her work. Dangerous +4, Dreaded +2, Monstrous Anatomy +1

Reasoning: I feel like this one's pretty self-explanatory. I added a point of MA since I feel like she'd want to be a bit knowledgeable in monster anatomy for Art Reasons

Sinner #5, Meursault

Chained Stranger "The Neath is a prison," he says matter-of-factly, "And I am here because I am meant to be." Despite this, one could swear they saw the sun reflecting off his eyes. Persuasive +2, Respectable +3, Reduces Scandal build up

Reasoning: Hehe did you see what I did there. I referenced the thing. Anyway aside from being pretty blunt, he's probably the best candidate out of the whole group for Respectable.

Sinner #6, Hong Lu

Bright-Eyed Debonair New to the Neath, from an affluent Surface family. The Neath's many delights confuse and excite him. Persuasive +2, Shadowy +1, Kataleptic Toxicology +1

Reasoning: I think Hong Lu being new to the Neath fits with him being sheltered in canon. Also +1 KA cuz you know that boy is hittin that Honey. The Honey-Dens of Veilgarden already know him by name.

Sinner #7, Heathcliff

Bereaved Ruffian He knows the backstreets of London like the scars on his hands. He remembers that which the world does not, and waits. Dangerous +8, Shadowy -3, Chthonosophy +1

Reasoning: Oops Canto VI colored the fuck out of this one oops oops oops. Happy Firmament Day btw have some Chthonosophy. :)

Sinner #8, Ishmael

Zeefaring Pathfinder She's hunted the most feared creatures known to the Zee, losing her way to chart a path for her mad captain. Her compass will see that she never loses sight of her path again. Zeefaring +2, Monstrous Anatomy +3, Increases Nightmares build up

Reasoning: Ishy-Fishy you were made to embody Zeefaring and MA.

Sinner #9, Rodion

Lacre-Drowned Cardshark Born in a run-down corner of London where the Lacre falls thickest at Sacksmas, she knows a thing or two about cards. She wouldn't mind teaching you...for a price. Persuasive +4, Watchful +6

Reasoning: Heart's Desire vibes. That's it.

Sinner #10, Dante

Timepiece Manager An infernal timepiece ticks away where a head should be. They have no memories of their own, but they can never forget again. Chthonosophy +2, Steward of the Discordance +1, Dangerous -5, Reduces Wounds build up

Reasoning: Congratulations Dante on being the only bitch to not have the Discordance because the Discordance isn't real. Ummm I went off vibes here but tbh I think Dante should decrease your Dangerous by way more actually. Hell, let's make then decrease Dreaded too. Let's make them a Weasel of Woe.

Sinner #11, Sinclair

Unrealized Prodigy Young and anxious, jumping at every shadow. His potential is very promising. Dangerous +6, Dreaded +1, Increases Wounds build up

Reasoning: Sinclair may be baby. But he is Scary Baby.

Sinner #12, Outis

Commanding Oneironaut She's led the forces of Parabola to victory more times than you could count. Don't ask her any questions. Dangerous +8, A Player of Chess +2, Glasswork +1

Reasoning: Everybody shut the fuck up Parabolan War General Outis is everything to me, you hear me. EVERYTHING. She favors the Chessboard, obviously, with that +2 to APoC.

Sinner #13, Gregor

Metamorphic Veteran A large insectoid pincer sits where a right arm should be. He'll talk about pretty much anything but the details around that. Seriously, be careful around that thing. Dangerous +5, Shapeling Arts +3, Bizarre +2

Reasoning: You had to know Gregor would be the only bitch to get Shapeling Arts. Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't. I wanted to give him Persuasive due to his amicability but also he actually. Sucks at being persuasive like canonically, so. Dangerous it is.

BONUS! Vergilius

The Red Gaze The most feared Fixer in the Neath. Whatever could you have done to strike up an alliance with him? Watchful +30, Shadowy +30, Dangerous +30, Persuasive +30, Greatly reduces Nightmare build up

Reasoning: He's the Red Goat I ain't gotta explain shit.

anyway hope you enjoyed even though you definitely didn't. i have a headache now so i'm gonna go consume painkillers and caffeine and go run mirror dungeons in lcb for that limbus battle pass.

[portableanimations]

Meet Me at my Side (When Dawn Breaks over Britain) - 1/30(?)

An Ineffable Husbands Human AU with Lancaster Navigator Aziraphale and Engineer Crowley

Rating: E (Eventual smut, but also graphic descriptions of violence)

Summary: For all our worth, mankind lacks that sixth sense which seems to guide sea birds across thousands of miles of trackless ocean...

Upon transfer to Tadfield, newly promoted Flight Lieutnentant Aziraphale Fell is set to take off on his 11th operation within the hour with the mission of navigating his new crew across to Berlin and back. The war in Europe has been raging on for four years and tensions are higher than they've ever been after weeks of poor winter weather have caused more wreck than night fighters in enemy skies.

He’d already made peace with the fact that any one of these nights could be his last but it's after one of these operations, at three in the morning, that Aziraphale finds himself staring at another man working on an aircraft set aflame. His hair is auburn and his eyes are liquid gold. Just the same as they were thirteen years ago.

And suddenly, all such peace is shattered.

Excerpt:

“Starter button,” he heard Newt say. From where Aziraphale was sat, the start-up sequence of the Lancaster’s four Rolls-Royce Merlin engines was an experience that was both mechanical and almost alive-like . As soon as Lucy pressed the Engine Starting button, there was a brief, sharp whirr as the inertia starter spun up before the flywheel engaged with the engine, followed by a chug-chug-chug as the first cylinders coughed into life, spitting smoke and vapor into the wind.  Then, suddenly, boom— the engine roared to life with a deep, throaty growl that shuddered through Aziraphale’s frame. The cockpit trembled as the propeller blades bit into the air, building into a steady blur. There was a momentary fluctuation in the tone, almost like a misfire, before it smoothed out into a low, rolling thrum that settled deep into his chest.  Newt stood momentarily to glance out of the window. For the Lancaster, Aziraphale knew that the turning periods could not exceed twenty seconds, and that at least thirty seconds needed to pass before another engine could be started up. It was now the ground crew’s job to work the priming pump until it picked up on the carburettor.  “All okay!” The flight engineer said to the window.  Lucy’s gaze was trained on the back of Newt’s head, waiting for any sort of indication that the engine saw any signs of being over-rich. It never came. “Starboard outer, Engineer?”  “Go ahead, Skipper.” And so, the process was repeated. First with the starboard outer, then port inner, then port outer.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

12:03 - Next to Normal Chapter 2

Limited range to haunt, thankful for the friends I've got.

< prev | next >

People don’t sneak up on Marie. Ever. The combination of her blood powers and her upbringing ensured that she was always dialed in on her surroundings. So when the door to the music room slammed open, her head snapped up immediately. She still had a whole seven minutes - who did this idiot think they were?

“I have seven more minutes.” She said simply, dismissing them with a gesture before turning her attention back to her music. The intruder sighed but made no move to leave, flicking dark hair out of their eyes.

“And?” They said coolly, lounging in a chair and unpacking their bass. Why did they sound pissed off when she had the room booked? It took everything in her - and the voice of her mother from beyond the grave - not to roll her eyes. She’s a performer. If they were going to come in early, they can deal with her rehearsing this stupid fucking aria. Now that she saw them, of course she recognized them. She’s not in Brink’s materials class yet, but he is the supervisor of basically all mechanical engineering research projects, and Jordan Li is one of the only undergrads Brink has ever hired. What they did to earn that, besides being a kiss ass and the child of donors to the school, is a mystery to her. She tried to keep from wondering if they recognized her from around campus, and she tried to keep from noticing how irritatingly attractive they looked. They leaned back, thumbing the strings on their bass absently. Probably expecting her to run away after a single glare like some frightened mouse. But she’s rehearsed weirder pieces in front of scarier people than Jordan Li.

So she rewinds her music and begins again, working through Voi, Che Sapete - an aria that is the kind of earnest that makes her want to hurl. Come on - This torment is tinged with delight? It was passionate first, now I felt pain? End her now. But her voice coach insists upon learning the classics and technical precision. When she was a kid, her mom taught her and Annabeth how to sing. They had formal lessons, of course - sitting at the rickety piano in the living room and singing scales. But it was also just what happens when you live with a singer. Mom would harmonize with whatever was playing on the radio, and she had this look on her face when they were singing off-key. Nothing mean or condescending, just a soft smile as she guided their voices back to the right note. 

Marie closed her eyes, trying to tune out the thrum of Jordan tuning their bass. “Could you at least attempt some kind of regular rhythm?” She muttered, not really expecting them to respond.

“Have you ever tuned an instrument? There’s actual brain power required.” They retorted, clearly irritated. 

“You are intruding on my rehearsal time -” Marie began, but they just scoffed, going back to fiddling with their bass without even hearing the rest of her retort. Typical. One professor gave them the time of day, and now they walk around this entire school like it’s their personal playground. They probably had a point - though she’s loath to admit it. There’s a reason all the loaner instruments at her group home were woefully out of tune. Even Petrov’s piano often had a few off keys. But that doesn’t change the fact that she booked this room to 12:10 - and she intends to utilize it. After this, she has to head to the library for work, and then meet Emma and some of her dance friends. And she doesn’t need Petrov to tell her that she still sounded forced and overworked.

“Five fucking minutes. In our room.” She thought she heard them mutter, but she decided that she didn’t. Fuming over some entitled upperclassman is not a good way to end her rehearsal. She just tried to get through the piece at least one more time - if she can’t get that bar near the end right, Petrov would make her work this piece for another week, and she’d have even less time to prepare for her audition. As she did so, she saw Jordan’s body grow and shift out of the corner of her eye. She’d seen them in both bodies around the engineering building, but she hadn’t ever actually seen them change. It was seamless - she’d kind of expected something more? But to be fair, the other person she knows who changes shape has ... a specific process to do so. 

“Donna vedete, s'io i'or nel cor.” She ran the line a few times, trying to strengthen her vibrato and emphasize the emotions of the song. She could feel Jordan’s eyes on her, and she found herself standing up straighter in spite of herself. Why was she trying to impress this entitled rich kid anyways? Yeah, they’re incredibly attractive and intelligent, and yeah, they’re an important part of the department she’s in, but still. She doesn’t need their permission, and she certainly doesn’t need their approval. What is this yearning in her heart, indeed. The clock rolls over to 12:10 and she gets ready to head out. 

“Finally.” She heard Jordan mutter as she packed her things, sliding her music neatly into her backpack. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back before smiling sweetly at them. Or, as close as sweet as she could get, with frustration still boiling under her skin.

“You know, you could check the schedule before you show up early. It’d be easier to fix your D string literally anywhere else.” They simply raised an eyebrow, looking at her appraisingly. She suppressed a scoff. “See you around.” She said dismissively, rolling her eyes once she was out of view. 

Thankfully, the library wasn’t too far of a walk from the music building, giving her time to grab a coffee before she clocked in. She snagged the black coffee from the countertop, leaving a dollar in the hand-decorated mason jar on her way out. Barista solidarity. 

She punched her code in, laid her bag on the ground underneath the help desk, and she situated herself at her station. She’d barely been sitting for five minutes when Emma came bounding over, looking even more excited than normal. This could mean anything - she could’ve nailed a new dance or she could’ve seen a cute dog. Marie had learned early on never to guess when it came to Emma.

“I think I just met the reincarnation of Robert Pattinson - if he had curly hair.” She breathed dreamily.

“Isn’t he still alive?” Marie remarked nonchalantly, checking books in mechanically. Open. Slide. Stamp. Close. Stack. Repeat. 

“Who cares, that’s not the point.The point is, this guy is hot, he’s nice, and he invited me to a casual-hangout-that-isn’t-a-party - his words not mine - and said I could bring a friend.” Emma waggled her eyebrows at Marie, trying to entice her.

“Emma, you know how I feel about last minute plans.” She admonished. Slide. Stamp. Stack. Close. And about setting her up on dates just because she has a date and they have a single friend.

“But it’s not last minute! It’s tomorrow night.” And as much as she’d like to snap back that tomorrow is still last minute - for Emma, it wasn’t, and she honestly had nothing better to do. She couldn’t keep from shaking her head, smiling fondly.

“Alright. But if they’re not good people, I’ll leave.” Emma nodded seriously before grinning widely, pushing herself up onto the counter, her legs dangling off the edge of the desk. She was about to launch into a play-by-play of the conversation she had with this mystery pretty boy, when something caught her eye and her cheeks flushed a little pink. Before Marie understood why, a relaxed black man in a gray hoodie sidled up to her desk with a nervous curly haired white guy trailing hesitantly behind him. 

“Are you Emma and friend?” The relaxed guy asked, clearly putting on a suave performance that was nearly sickening. She found herself thinking of Jordan - she’d take bitter entitlement over cloying niceties. Then she had to push that thought far from her mind - they’re probably just as fake in the right circumstances.

“Sam, you said we’d be meeting at Gideon Hall tomorrow?” Emma asked the taller man, leaning towards him almost subconsciously and looking up at him. Marie had seen the blonde flirt countless times, but there was something about this that felt... different. But she’s probably reading too much into things. He nodded, almost too quickly.

“We’ll be heading to my townhouse - piling into a few cars.” The guy who wasn’t Sam said casually. He looked Marie up and down appraisingly before giving her his number. “In case you have any questions.” She just raised an eyebrow, taking the paper. 

“You came prepared.” She said dryly, eyeing him skeptically. She pocketed the paper nonetheless, mainly because Emma would ream her if she didn’t entertain him. Despite what her roommate says, she doesn’t need to go on a date with an idiot to know they’re an idiot. But making new friends is probably a good idea, all things considered. That’s the point of college, right? So she tucked the paper into her pocket, and smiled her way through the stilted small talk, and once the two men left, she let Emma regale her with the details of her first interaction with Sam.

That’s also how Marie ends up sitting cross-legged on the floor in the small dance studio, watching Emma and her friends work their way through their tap routine. It honestly wasn’t bad background noise as she worked through her physics homework. And despite the disdain Marie felt for Emma’s mother and her attitude towards dance, she did enjoy seeing the way the blonde’s giggles would turn to full belly laughs as she and her dance partners would work their way through complex choreography. And sometimes, after a really good rehearsal, it almost looked like Emma stood an inch or two taller as she slung her arm around Marie’s shoulders and led the older girl to their next adventure. Which, to be fair, was usually their next meal, but when you’re at the top technical university for superheroes, you tend to find adventures everywhere you turn.

Not every student at Goldolkin Institute of Technology was a supe - it was probably closer to 20 or 30 percent, but supes tended to group together. Part of it was the fact that most freshman supes ended up in one of two dorms due to accessibility concerns, and the rest of it was the gawking that tended to come from the non-supe students. Marie felt lucky most days that she couldn’t be picked out of a crowd as a supe - people have certain expectations that she doesn’t particularly like dealing with. 

Everyone has opinions on who she should be, what she should want, and how she should get it. No one says what those opinions are, but she can feel it - in the way her academic advisors talk to her, in the way the directors at the music hall look at her when she walks in for her audition. You should be grateful for what you have. You don’t truly belong here. Our approval is the only thing that will take you to the next level. 

But it was actually Annabeth that taught her the true golden rule: there’s always another way. She’d remind Marie of this fact of the world before wiggling her way through the mostly closed window of their family home to unlock the front door, or using a bobby pin as a screwdriver to fix the cabinet door before their dad got home. Whenever people tell her she has an engineer’s mind - like the interviewer for G.I.T., or her high school math teacher - it’s because of her. It isn’t lost on Marie that her two passions came directly from the two most important women in her life. 

There’s always another way. That’s how she got into Godolkin, how she convinced her advisor that double majoring across disciplines could only enhance her collegiate experience, and even how she found herself as an understudy in the fall musical last semester. With every step forward, she feels herself pulling closer to her goals: getting her degree and getting back in contact with her sister. And nothing and no one will get in her way.

-----------------

No one else uses this practice room, especially not on Thursdays. Replaced at 9 wasn’t that popular on campus (college radio isn’t really as cool as it was in the 80’s, let’s be real), but they were well known within the music department. It had gotten to the point where they almost started keeping their instruments there. It was Luke who suggested it - Andre kept leaving his drum kit at home. But thank fuck they didn’t, because some random fucking freshman was in there, singing fucking opera. She looked vaguely familiar - maybe she’d seen her around campus somewhere. Not one of her one night stands, thankfully. That would’ve been painfully awkward, and besides, she’d remember a girl like that. Soft and muscular at the same time, big brown eyes sent directly from hell to drive them insane, and the kind of willpower that made their knees go weak. And royally pissed them off. 

“I have seven more minutes.” The freshman started, not even bothering to look at her. Rude. This is why she was a T.A. in engineering, instead of doing more work in the music school. People come in to a music program entitled as fuck - she’s met a thousand and one freshmen like this girl. She was probably the daughter of a voice coach, told she was God’s gift to music her entire life, and came here expecting to crush it in a day. Probably expected to be discovered before her first year was completed. She was well overdue for a reality check - pretty eyes or no.

“And?” They weren’t about to give up their prep time because some freshman was being cocky. This bass required... an expert’s touch, and more importantly, time.

The girl looks almost as pissed off as they feel, but she doesn’t pack up her things. Instead, she just goes back to singing some Italian number set to a Mozart piece. They tried to focus on the task at hand, but it’s not like he could quite hear the note, what with the pretentious racket.

“Could you at least attempt some kind of regular rhythm?” She said, closing her eyes in irritation. Why won’t she just leave? It’s seven minutes, they’ll probably spend twice as long waiting for their bandmates to arrive.

“Have you ever tuned an instrument? There’s actual brain power required.” they snapped back, uninterested in talking in circles. If they’re naturally intimidating enough to scare the freshman engineers, they should be able to get this opera bitch to scurry back home... right?

“You are intruding on my rehearsal time -” She began, barely hiding her irritation. Jesus, this girl doesn’t fucking give up!

“Five fucking minutes. In our room.” They muttered under their breath, half-expecting the freshman to snap back at them, or maybe even finally leave. But no such luck. Whoever this (admittedly very pretty) girl was, she was committed to riding out the full extent of her time block, and doing it in Italian. Someone gag her. She shifted to her male form, needing the larger hands to properly wrap around the neck of his bass. Even that didn’t seem to faze her - at least, she didn’t look up or stop singing. The D string on this bass had a loose knob and was often out of tune, so they focused on retuning it, thumbing the string and listening intently. 

“Finally.” They grumbled, adjusting his position in their seat. He watched as the freshman carefully slid her sheet music into a plain folder and slid that into her bag. 

“You know, you could check the schedule before you show up early. It’d be easier to fix your D string literally anywhere else.” She smiled thinly at him, and he raised an eyebrow, hiding his surprise that she even knew which string was giving them trouble. And as she went to leave, they couldn’t stop themselves from letting their eyes travel down her form. Subtly, of course - they’re not Andre. Of course, she had to be hot, too. At least she was finally gone, and they shouldn’t have to see her again. It’s not like she’s an engineer or anything.

This was one time they were pleased his bandmates were chronically late. That girl - still no name - had gotten under their skin. Luke and Cate can always tell when he’s pissy about something, and he does not need dating advice from the golden duo. Cate’s convinced that anyone who gets under their skin is their soulmate. Or whatever. Hate and love are much closer than people like to think, she tells them. Not true, in their experience. Most people who hate them are not ever going to like him, much less love them.

Whatever. This entitled freshman is not going to mess with their rehearsal. He needs to focus - Andre might be content to half-ass his way through the battle of the bands in a couple months, but they would actually like to be proud of the songs they showcase. There’s a few stanzas that they’d like to work though again and the bass line for the bridge needs some work.

None of his bandmates were surprised to see them hunched over their bass guitar, pen tapping incessantly against their spiral notebook. And if they noticed his irritability, they didn’t mention it. 

“We’re only five minutes late, Luke, this is almost a new record.” Andre called out, grinning easily as he held the door open for the other two band members.

“C’mon, dude, any amount of late isn’t a good look.” The blond admonished his friend, bumping his shoulder affectionately.

“I’m sure Jordan is just happy you remembered to grab your charger before we started rehearsing - even if we did have to walk back to get it.” Cate’s smooth voice slid into the room last, as she trailed behind her boyfriend. “You know they hate being interrupted.” 

Which was true, and why they didn’t lift their head when their friends entered. He’d been hoping to sort out the second verse at least, but the only lyrics they’d scrawled on the page were the lines that freshman was singing. They sighed in frustration, shoving the pen behind their ear and leaning back in the cheap plastic chair. 

“Please don’t expect applause for the bare minimum. That’s how we’ll lose in April.”

“Why do you insist on being a buzzkill, man?” Jordan caught the protein bar Luke threw at them moments before it collided with his head, and they nodded their thanks wordlessly. “April is after midterms. And midterms are forever away. Ergo, we don’t have to worry yet.”

They opted to rip open the protein bar and shove the gifted sickly sweet snack into their mouth instead of starting another fight with Andre. With their current mood in mind, they’d probably end up saying something mean and need to bake some apology cookies. Again. Despite the near constant bickering between them and their friends, he wouldn’t trade them for anything. Without Luke, they probably wouldn’t have ended up being friends with any of them - and their college experience would’ve been much more bland. 

When they started at Godolkin, they were just barely out of the closet and terrified to step out of line. Just walking around in their female form felt dangerous. But they went to some club meeting (none of them actually could recall which club it was), sitting nervously in the back of the room, unsure of everything. And Luke, the first freshman to perform at the music school’s symposium (and some ex-child star from a show they would never admit to having watched), sat right next to them and started making conversation. Told an embarrassing story about accidentally melting a plastic bowl to his hands, and invited them to come meet his other friends. He and Andre had met at orientation, Andre met Cate in class, and the rest was history. They performed together for the first time in the spring of freshman year, and now they were all juniors, competing in the battle of the bands for the fourth time. The second time with their own music. 

They watched as Andre set his drum kit up in the back alongside Cate’s keyboard, and he took his place beside Luke. It used to feel weird, standing together like this. Like they were playing at being rock stars the way he used to do with his sisters in their basement. And they aren’t sure when it started feeling real. It sort of snuck up on him, but one day, he was standing in this very spot, holding this guitar, and they realized that they were actually doing what they always wanted to do. He was actually fucking making music.

And as the four of them settled into their rehearsal, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. He’d somehow managed to make something close to a happy life out of what could have been a caffeine fueled slog through four years of hell. It wasn’t always easy - most rehearsals ended with them needing to rush off to manage something for Professor Brink or meet some random collection of students for a group project or a study session. Cate and Andre were both business majors, so they did most of their studying together. He used to find it suspicious - and wondered more than once how Luke put up with it. But he never seemed bothered by it - and he was often busy with private voice lessons and a slew of other rehearsals anyways. Besides, they didn’t like speculating like that about any of their friends. 

They did end up dashing out of rehearsal precisely when it ended, meeting with Brink to discuss lesson plans and then holing up in his office to study in peace. They technically had a study session tonight at the townhouse, but it was almost impossible for them to get any solid work done when all their friends were around, doing precisely zero work. Luke didn’t really study, Andre insisted he studied better when he was high or drunk (he doesn’t) and So he finished his homework and a first draft of a paper in the privacy of Brink’s cluttered office before heading to the townhouse to “study”.

She shifts on her way out, and is once again amazed by how easy it can be. People rarely ever asked why they shifted, and she and Cate had come up with a list of canned responses for the kinds of rude or insensitive things people would say. There were some that never failed to make her laugh - I heard your mom wanted to try pussy tonight and I thought it’d be funny if you got beat up by a girl - but she tended to default to Cause I fucking felt like it. Because that was the most honest - and it gave people nothing to work with.

She knew the townhouse would be unlocked so they didn’t even bother knocking, just walked right in. Sam, Luke’s younger brother, was lounging on the black IKEA futon, all up in arms about some girl he met. They basically tuned it out, heading straight for the fridge and grabbing a beer. She was honestly stoked - if Sam had met a girl, no one would be interrogating Jordan about what pissed them off. Or who.

They settled into their usual spot in the large and eclectically furnished living room of the townhouse - an emerald green corduroy recliner that is clearly a relic of the 80s, complete with a cupholder. It was the least offensive of the three ‘couches’ (if you could call them that). It wouldn’t take long for Sam to be relegated to the worst of the three - a worn down pleather loveseat that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, by Andre and Luke. The two settled in with their own beers as they kept discussing whatever harebrained idea Andre had cooked up this week.

Jordan found herself drifting in and out of focus during the chatter of their friends, not particularly interested in Andre’s newest business scheme or Sam’s continued anxious babbling about this blonde girl. She still couldn’t get Opera out of her mind - or that song out of their head. Rather, the one line of that song. It didn’t help that the two were inextricably tied - so even as she kept telling herself that it was the song that was stuck in their head, not the girl, it rang a bit hollow.

“Are you learning Italian?” Cate’s cool voice cut through her reverie. She peered over their shoulder at her phone. “What is this yearning inside my heart? Classy.” She said lightly, smirking as they cringed away from her inquisitive glare. 

“Got a song stuck in my head is all.” She grumbled, closing their phone before she could get even more nosy. If she even imagined there was a girl involved, she’d never let it up. Even so, they could see her filing that information away for future use.

“One of those opera girls in the music hall?” Andre asked, leaning even further back so his head was nearly in Cate’s lap, his legs already sprawled over Luke’s thighs. “Hanging around on the second floor might actually teach me more than my French class ever did. If they don’t give me a migraine first.” Cate was the most perceptive of the three, but Andre had a knack for guessing correctly about things like this.

“Half those songs are the same three lines repeated over and over again.” Cate said dismissively. “I could teach you more French than that in an afternoon.” She threaded her gloved fingers through Luke’s, settling into the couch. She had this knack of appearing both at home and out of place in most places on campus. Even here, she still had this air about her that both enticed and frightened most who met her. She was intimidating - in a very different way than Jordan was. She wasn’t stone faced and solid, she was elusive, and hard to understand. Almost like a changeling, she had this way about her that made it hard to pin down her true feelings. But she was also the first girl who she felt like really saw her as another girl. Cate painted her nails, helped her with her makeup, and none of it ever felt forced or inauthentic.

It kind of amazed them after years of being told that no one would ever accept her as bigender or her powers, that they had found Professor Brink and Luke and all these people who saw her as who she was, in their entirety. It gave them the strength and the motivation to continue to actually reach for their goals, which were inching closer every day: get their degree and make good music. And nothing and no one will get in her way.

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Thanks again to @perpetualproductions for editing this and all their help!!

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

After Hours

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

AU: Mechanic 141x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I love this AU so much-

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The hum of engines echoed in the quiet garage, softened by the dim overhead lights as evening bled into night. Most of the team had clocked out, leaving just you and a few of the guys to finish up the last project of the day. Price had stayed, though he lingered more at the edges of the room, keeping a steady, watchful eye as he supervised the night’s work.

Soap was stationed at the paint table, bent over a vibrant paint mix he’d been obsessing over all week. His eyes lit up as he caught you watching, grinning as he lifted a paintbrush with a flourish. “See, it’s all about layers,” he said, his accent thick with his excitement. He dipped his brush, dragging it across the paint in deft strokes. “Depth’s gotta be just right. With the right mix, it catches the light like—dunno—a sunrise on a clear day, yeah?”

“Since when did you get so poetic, Soap?” you teased, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you watched him. You were still wiping grease off your hands, the stain already becoming a familiar sight from your few weeks here, but somehow you’d come to like it. A reminder of belonging.

“Since I met you,” he said without missing a beat, that grin of his widening just enough to make your cheeks flush.

Before you could even respond, Gaz strolled in, his own work gloves tossed over his shoulder as he settled against the workbench beside you. “Still on about that paint job, eh, Soap?” He shot you a conspiratorial smile. “Trust me, he’s dragged everyone into it—won’t be long before he’s begging you to stay all night mixing colors with him.”

“Oi, don’t you start, Gaz,” Soap protested, a playful scowl forming as he brandished his paintbrush like a weapon. “Art takes patience, you know. Some of us have an eye for beauty.”

“More like an eye for wasting time,” Gaz shot back, shaking his head with a laugh as Soap huffed in mock offense.

Their banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Price approached, arms crossed as he surveyed the group with a small smirk. His gruff expression was softened by the amusement in his eyes, but his words were all business. “Alright, enough chit-chat. We’ve got that engine to finish if we want it done by morning.”

That was Price for you—focused and direct, keeping everyone in line. Yet he never pushed too hard, and the respect he commanded made it easy to listen, to want to do your best. He’d taken you under his wing from the start, not coddling you but always offering steady guidance when things got tough. You had only been at *Tactical Motors* a few weeks, but already, he made you feel like part of the team.

“Already on it,” came a low voice from behind you. Ghost stepped forward from the shadows, silent and as intimidating as ever. He handed you a wrench, his gloved fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. His presence settled next to you, steady and unyielding, making you feel like there was nothing that could go wrong while he was around.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you murmured, your gaze meeting his. Though he didn’t say anything, the slight nod he gave you was enough to send a shiver of something warm and reassuring through you.

With Price’s nod, you all moved into the work with ease. Together, the five of you fell into a seamless rhythm. Price guided you through the intricacies of the engine assembly while Ghost tightened each bolt with practiced precision, his quiet demeanor masking an intense focus. Gaz worked diagnostics, occasionally chiming in with quips that kept everyone laughing, while Soap hovered around the edges, finishing up his paint job but constantly stealing glances at you, his smile never fading.

The line between work and something deeper began to blur as the hours slipped by. You noticed the small touches and shared glances—Soap’s shoulder brushing against yours more often than necessary, the way Gaz’s eyes lingered when he handed you a tool. Even Ghost seemed to hover closer, his usual distance replaced by a comforting protectiveness that made you feel secure.

And then there was Price. His eyes softened whenever he caught you laughing with the others, his gaze one of steady approval mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. You’d felt close to him since day one, but tonight, it felt more real than ever.

By midnight, the engine purred to life, humming with perfect precision. You and Price stepped back to admire the work, and Soap threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close with a grin.

“Not too shabby for a newbie, eh?” he teased, squeezing your shoulder.

“More than not too shabby,” Gaz chimed in, his voice filled with approval. “That was a masterclass. I’d say you’re officially one of us now.”

Even Ghost seemed pleased, his usual stoic expression softening as he gave a rare nod. You caught a glimpse of pride in his eyes, his silent approval meaning more than you’d ever expected.

Price approached, his gaze steady and intent. “You’ve proven yourself,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Welcome to the family, love.”

The word “family” hit you, settling deep in your chest. You’d had jobs before, but nothing like this. Nothing that made you feel this…connected. Standing there in the dim light of the garage, surrounded by Price’s quiet strength, Soap’s playful warmth, Gaz’s easy charm, and Ghost’s silent protectiveness, you felt like you’d found something you didn’t know you were missing.

After a moment, Soap broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “I’d say this calls for a celebration, yeah? My place, a couple rounds on me.”

Price raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with that soft smile again. “What do you say? You up for a night with these idiots?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the anticipation spark between you all. “Yeah, I think I am.”

A Few Hours Later

The five of you sat on Soap’s back patio, beers in hand as laughter echoed through the night. The camaraderie that had formed in the garage only deepened in the quiet intimacy of the darkened backyard. Soap had a warmth that kept you smiling, and Gaz’s easy charm drew you in, the two of them joking as if they’d known you forever.

Price stayed close, watching over the group with his usual quiet intensity, his gaze occasionally meeting yours in a way that made your heart race. And Ghost, though still silent, seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, his usual guarded demeanor softened in the safe company of his teammates—and you.

The hours slipped by in a haze of laughter and stolen glances. By the time dawn approached, you felt more than a part of the team. You felt the warmth of a family, the thrill of something new and unknown blossoming with each smile, each touch, each whispered word.

And you knew, in the quiet light of the early morning, that whatever this was, you didn’t want it to end.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[bluegekk0]

🎲6 for everyone

Yippee!!!

6. Does your character work better with creative or technical endeavors?

Vyrm - technical 100%, though he has a lot of imagination for his engineering projects. He's not particularly talented artistically, when it comes to drawing, the only thing he's good at is making blueprints and plans. He's also not very gifted when it comes to expressing himself through art and interpreting it, with drawing he struggles to portray what he's imagining, and when it comes to writing, poetry or anything of that sort, he tends to take things literally so he naturally has trouble with metaphors or non-direct language. He doesn't get instruments either, it doesn't help that a lot of them hurt his ears so as you can imagine, that gets in the way of practice. However, he has attempted one specific creative endeavor which so far has had more satisfying results - wood carving. He likes to carve figures out of wood in his spare time, and he finds it easier to search for the form within the wood block than to create said form from scratch. It's not super impressive yet but it's better than anything else he's attempted when it comes to creative endeavors

Grimm - he's the opposite of Vyrm, he's far more likely to pursue creative endeavors. He loves the theatre, and because the Troupe in the AU is basically just that, he actively pursues acting and even singing at times. Outside of that, he used to dabble in painting and poetry, during Vyrm's 35 year long absence, he wrote a lot of poems addressed to him to cope with his loss. With painting, he ended up not pursuing it further as he found it a bit too messy of a process for his liking, though he still maintains a lot of skill and knowledge that he uses to guide others. With technical tasks, he's not terrible, but it's very clear that whenever he tries to help Vyrm in the workshop, he's the one who requires guidance. It's not something he's naturally very good at, though he's always eager to try

Hornet - kind of 50/50. I don't think she ever tried to pursue very artistic endeavors, mostly cause she was focused on survival for a big chunk of her life. She wasn't very interested in Vyrm's workshop when she was a child either, though she did end up learning a thing or two about the tools she used for hunting so she has some skill in technical craft. Mostly through taking them apart after buying them from merchants in various settlements she would stop by from time to time. After Vyrm returned and started his workshop endeavors, she had access to more tools, but she always thought what she already had was enough so she didn't pursue that further. What she did get into after his return was some small craft, particularly little necklaces and bracelets made from beast teeth and bones. Holly is much more skilled at that but she does enjoy contributing to it, especially since they're a nice source of extra income when sold on the market.

Holly - they're very art and creativity focused, they're not very good at technical things, mainly due to their shaky hands which make precise movements a bit difficult. That said, they do enjoy sewing, it's not perfect for the same reason, but there's less of a pressure with making plush toys compared to making sure a mechanism works as intended, so they're able to enjoy that hobby a lot more. On top of that, they enjoy drawing and are fairly good at it all things considered, they managed to make the messiness of their lines work to their favor. And lastly, they also enjoy making jewelry out of animal bones and pretty rocks, which they later sell on the market. I like to think they find creative endeavors more engaging since they see them as a way to express their emotions - the lack of voice and complex facial expressions makes that very difficult otherwise.

Zote - I think giving him any kind of technical work is a disaster waiting to happen, and while it may be a bit unexpected, he's actually far more interested in creative endeavors. Something I have in mind in particular for him is joining the Troupe as part of the music crew some time in the future. He currently works part-time as Grimm's helper during rehearsals, and I like to think he often finds himself distracted by the music rehearsals led by Brumm, in a positive sense. And I had the idea of Grimm picking up on it and giving him an instrument as a birthday present (a change to how I approached this storyline before where he found out about Zote's secret instrument practice; feels far less intrusive that way haha). I love to imagine Zote rejecting that interest of his for years cause he was raised to believe stuff like that was for the weak; now that he experienced what it's like to have people who care about you no matter what, I think he opened up to the possibility of pursue it.

Lewk - he's definitely more creatively gifted. Not that he thinks technical endeavors are boring or that he's bad at them, but he finds artistic work to be much more fulfilling. He definitely got the eye for beauty and aesthetic after Grimm, I think he would enjoy writing poetry when he's older. For now, he mostly sticks to drawing as part of his school homework, and while he's not the best at it, he really enjoys it.

Asta - I think she leans more towards artistic endeavors. She's not especially interested in what Vyrm does in the workshop, if she's there while he's working, she's usually looking for things to play with instead. I'd say that she has potential for coming up with stories, I like to think in the future she would be very fascinated by travel, and that's a subject that sparks imagination.

Milo - the complete opposite of Asta, he's like a little mirror image of Vyrm. He's not good at drawing, and he gets discouraged very easily with any kind of artistic task since struggles with artistic expression. What he excels at, however, is technical work. It's something he's already showing an interest in, and he enjoys it because not only is it a way for him to spend more time with Vyrm, but he also finds it easier to achieve satisfying results. And once he's older, he will surely match Vyrm's genius when it comes to engineering work.

(Ask game link)

[honeeysagee]

Come In With The Rain

Sam W. x Bucky B. AU: where Sam is a cafe owner in Delacroix and a new mechanic, Bucky, blows into town.

For the first time that summer, it rained. And not just a gentle drizzle, but a full-on downpour. The sky hung low and gray, and the air was thick and muggy as if you had been standing under a dense canopy for hours. The scent of wet earth and damp trees filled the air, with water still dripping from the branches, making the humidity cling to your skin.

For Sam Wilson, the rain signaled a slow day at the shop, but it hardly deterred him. There were plenty of tasks awaiting his attention in the back. One project, in particular, caught his eye: the small battery-powered car he had promised to fix for his nephews, AJ and Cass. It had been months since he made that promise, and today, with the rain pouring down outside, he finally had the time.

For AJ and Cass, the rain meant a monotonous day at the shop, confined to their uncle’s watchful gaze.

As Sam tinkered with his toolbox, occasionally glancing at the shop’s door in anticipation of the bell's chime, he decided to focus on the car. He would look over at his nephews now and then, catching their admiring gazes before they quickly returned to their homework, pretending to be studious. Sam chuckled softly.

The rain drummed on the roof, creating a steady, soothing rhythm. Sam glanced out the window, watching the heavy drops splatter against the road, turning it into a shimmering, reflective surface. A few cars braved the weather, but most remained parked under the awning across the street, seeking shelter from the deluge. Sam flipped on the coffee machine and lit a fire for the boys to keep them warm.

After dusting off his hands, Sam stretched and groaned, then turned to his nephews. "Grilled cheese and soup?" he asked. Both boys perked up instantly. Sam smiled down at them, his grin widening as he led them to the kitchen, memories of his childhood flooding back.

Sam had been around 15 when his father owned the café. He spent countless afternoons and weekends there, working alongside his dad. He'd wander the kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich in one hand and a hammer in the other. While his father managed the café, Sam busied himself in the back, fixing anything he could get his hands on. That same passion still drives him today, and he often felt his father's guiding hand on his shoulder whenever he cooked or repaired something.

Now, those days are just lingering in the back of his mind. But, they aren't forgotten. Not by a long shot.

"Mom is cooking fish tonight if you want to come over," AJ stated as he pulled bread from a cabinet. Sarah had mentioned it when she dropped the boys off, but Sam told her no. He figured he would be too tired from work today, but the storm came. He shrugged, "I don't know, buddy. How about I come over tomorrow?" AJ frowned, and Sam added, "Plus, tomorrow is the big game. Saints versus Cowboys. Don't we have a bet going on?" AJ brightened considerably at this prospect, "Don't you mean the bet that you're going to lose."

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. After minutes, the food was ready, and the boys were back in their original seats. They ate in companionable silence while their uncle fiddled with his tools.

Then, the door of the shop was pushed open. The sound drew Sam's attention away from the engine in front of him, and he looked up to see a soaking wet man walking through the door. His clothes clung to his body, and his hair clung to his forehead, sticking straight up like porcupine quills. He looked miserable. Sam almost laughed.

Almost.

He had seen more than his fair share of grumpy customers - ones that didn’t take nicely to his jokes or helping hands. So, instead of asking how the weather was, he asked, “Welcome to the Wilson’s Café.” Sam stood again, his bones growing tired. “Looks like you need help.”

The stranger looked upwards - his eyes matching the clouds of the storm. Rainwater trickled down his sharp features, clinging to his long, dark hair that hung in wet strands around his face. His leather jacket, soaked through, clung to his broad shoulders, giving him a rugged, almost forlorn appearance. As he stepped into the warmth of the cafe, water dripped from his jeans and boots, pooling slightly on the floor. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, attempting to push it back but only managing to slick it further. Despite his bedraggled state, there was a quiet intensity in his steel-blue eyes that captured Sam's attention from behind the table.

"Um," His voice matched everything about him, "Just needed to come in from the rain."

Sam nodded, "You got it," he replied. He gestured to a nearby stool that was stationed by the fireplace, "Would you like some tea? It's very hot." The man eyed the stool warily. Sam added, "First drink on the house."

"You're lucky. We never get our drinks on the house." Cass threw the statement to the stranger, which made Sam roll his eyes. "How do you like your tea?" he asked pointedly. The stranger glanced up at the menu that hung over Sam's head. His eyes shifted left to right before looking back at Sam. "Earl Grey. Medium sugar. Thanks."

The man was short with Sam, which made him push his eyebrows together in confusion. He was new here definitely, he thought to himself. New to the area, anyway. Sam fixed the tea with ease - an order he frequently made for himself on days like this. Then, he marched the warm cup to the man with a leftover grilled cheese.

"On the house too." Sam mumbled. The man grunted and took the mug wordlessly, holding it close to his chest. "Thanks."

Sam returned to his work as the boys focused less on their food and homework and more on the silent stranger who was staring into the fire. Sam would occasionally make a face at the boys which would cause them to turn away but never for too long. As the silence grew so did his frustration with the engine of the small car.

"So, why do you look like that?" AJ asked.

"AJ!" Sam called out. When AJ merely raised his eyebrows innocently, Sam shook his head and sighed. "It's rude to ask strangers stuff like that."

AJ nodded seriously in agreement. "Sorry, sir."

Sam sighed and shook his head, "Okay, you know the drill. Dishes in the sink, and head upstairs," He helped them place their things into a backpack, "No fighting. No biting, and no,"

"Crying." The boys finished in unison. Sam only nodded and patted them on their heads. After they left the room, Sam fixed himself a cup of coffee and headed to the man. "I apologize my nephews. They kind of just speak their minds whenever they want."

The man nodded silently. His eyes trailed over the tools littering the floor with the car - the hammer, the wrench, the pliers. His head nodded to them, "You fix toys?"

Sam shook his head, "Not usually, but I made that thing for the boys, and it doesn't work." He pointed to the engine. "I tried everything that I can think of, but nothing seems to be able to work. And my nephews are getting restless just spending their evenings on homework," he joked, trying to make light of the situation. The man smiled wryly and Sam wondered what had caused such a sour expression. "What makes it tick?" The man asked.

"The engine's busted. Doesn't turn on."

He hummed, then, he stood from the stool. "May I?" He asked, picking up a tool.

Sam was his opportunity. "I usually don't let people touch my tools unless I get their name." The man raised his eyebrows as he began to unscrew the panel covering the engine compartment, revealing the wiring beneath. "It's James," he began, a sly smile playing upon his lips, "But, everyone calls me Bucky." Sam watched as the man slid his fingers inside the wires - his interest peaked by the minute.

"I'm Sam."

Bucky looked up. "It's nice to meet you, Sam." He said sincerely, his voice echoing throughout the cafe. Once the last of the wires was removed, Bucky settled to the floor. His dark blue eyes met Sam's brown ones. "You can ask me."

He had read Sam's face; and saw that he wanted to know more about this stranger who blew into the cafe and started fixing the engine on a fake car. Sam nodded and leaned against the counter. "It's not often we get newcomers. Are you new in town or just passing through?" He asked, curious but cautious nonetheless. He was known to pry too much too soon. So, he kept his distance and just tried to make small talk.

"Not sure yet."

Sam watched as Bucky worked, his deft fingers maneuvering through the tangled wires with ease. It was clear that Bucky had experience with mechanical work, his movements precise and confident. The rain continued to beat against the windows, a constant rhythm that seemed to match the methodical movements of Bucky’s hands.

"You're good at this," Sam remarked, unable to hide his curiosity. Bucky glanced up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Spent a lot of time fixing things," he said simply, returning his attention to the engine. Sam studied the man closely; his gaze trailing along Bucky’s body, examining every curve, every freckle. Even though it wasn’t obvious from where he was seated, Sam could tell that Bucky was built like a brick house. Strong, sturdy arms, strong thighs, strong calves… Sam’s eyes lingered longer on Bucky’s waist. A little more defined abs than Sam was used to seeing.

Bucky noticed Sam watching him and cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling Sam from his thoughts. He coughed and sat forward on the stool he was perched upon, placing his hands on the countertop in front of him, "Your wiring was wrong. Common mistake."

"Thanks," Sam stated. "Think it will drive now?"

Bucky shrugged, "Maybe, if you get a new battery too. Dead ones don't make the car go."

Sam raised his eyebrows and grabbed his coffee mug. The coffee ran cold by now. Time seemed to speed by when he watched Bucky work. "Pas besoin d'être un connard." Sam whispered to himself softly. His gaze flickered over Bucky once again, who was chuckling into his cup.

"No need to be an asshole."

"French?" He asked, raising one brow. "Je ne voulais pas te contrarier. Pardonne-moi."

"I didn't want to upset you. Please forgive me."

Sam snorted quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You're forgiven." He lifted the mug and placed it on the counter with more force than necessary. "So, what brought you to Delacroix, Bucky?" His name tasted like honey in his mouth.

"I couldn't spend another night in the truck, so I decided to stretch my legs, and then, the storm caught me." His words were soft, barely audible as a slight shiver racked his entire being. "Not to mention, I saw the help wanted sign outside the shop," He cleared his throat, "I'm terrible at coffee, but I'm good with my hands."

Sam glanced down at them, which was covered by dark leather gloves. Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah," His tone was soft, "I noticed. I mean. it would be nice to have some help. I have a lot of projects back there that need to be finished," He leaned on the corner, "But, I still need to give you the interview. Can't just have anyone in my shop."

Bucky nodded, but Sam could see his mind was elsewhere with that statement. Sam was known for prying more than he should, offending people where he shouldn't, and he enjoyed it for the most part. He liked to watch people tick and wanted to know how to make them do so, but his mind had already decided that Bucky would not be one of those people - if he could help it. He started easy.

"Where are you from?" A simple question that made Bucky's face twitch. "Originally from Brooklyn. Moved around a lot." His eyes flickered towards him as if he were searching Sam's. "La maison est partout si vous la cherchez. My mother's saying."

"Home is everywhere if you are looking for it."

"Well, have you found it?" Sam whispered like a secret between them was about to be shared. Bucky matched his energy, "Not yet, but I'm not looking for it." Sam hummed as he thought.

"How soon can you start?" The sentence floated between the both of them, as they exchanged glances for several seconds before Sam pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. Bucky smiled, showing his perfect teeth, and Sam swallowed - taking note that the man before him had no flaws.

"Tomorrow would be great."

"Good," Sam muttered. "We need a new face around here," His eyes flitted up to meet the man, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Then, he glanced over at the shop's window, realizing the rain had stopped. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans, then stood from the counter. "I have to get the boys over to my sister's place. I can show you around," Sam offered, "If you're up for it."

Bucky smiled softly. "That sounds like fun." The grin on his lips grew wider, "Lead the way." Sam walked to the wall opposite of them and let his knuckles rap the wood in four hard taps. Suddenly, a door from upstairs came bursting open with the patterns of small footsteps following. His nephews were down the stairs, huffing and puffing.

"Who's ready to see Ma?" He grinned, his nephews answering in unison with enthusiastic yeses.

With a laugh, he stepped aside. "This is Bucky. He’ll be helping me with repairs for now. So, you have to treat him nice, alright?" The two children nodded solemnly as Bucky stood awkwardly next to their bubbling energy. It almost reminded him of his sister back home. His heart ached for a moment before he was pulled back into the moment by Sam speaking to him, "Are you ready to meet Delacroix?"

Bucky nodded. "Of course." He followed him as Sam opened the front door. The streets glistened under the soft glow of the streetlamps, their reflection in the puddles creating a mirror image of the world above.

The air was cool and fresh, with a crispness that only a day-long rain could bring. Bucky pulled his jacket tighter around him, feeling the gentle embrace of the damp, clean air. He looked around, taking in the quaint charm of the town. The buildings were a mix of old and new, their brick and wood facades adorned with ivy and flower boxes that overflowed with vibrant blooms, glistening with raindrops.

Bucky felt a sense of ease washing over him. Sam turned to Bucky with a smile. "Thanks for walking with us. It's nice to have some company."

Bucky nodded, appreciating the kindness. "Thanks for the tea and grilled cheese. It was just what I needed." Sam chuckled. "Anytime. And about that job—we'll talk more tomorrow. Get settled in tonight."

Bucky nodded again, feeling a sense of anticipation for the days ahead. "Sounds good."

The evening was calm, the air fresh after the rain. Sam looked at Bucky, seeing a potential friend and ally. "You know, this place could use someone like you. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for here."

Bucky met his gaze, a small smile forming on his lips. "I hope so, Sam. I really do." They shared smiles. Sam could almost feel something else lingering underneath the surface of the smile that rested on Bucky's features, but it wasn't exactly clear. He looked back towards, noticing the lights flickering slightly against the raindrops. Somewhere in the air, Sam swore he could feel it that day, there was hope of something beautiful blooming.

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