#mechanical engineering projects for high school

[terrorbirb]

Nothing against low level jobs really, but one of our engineering techs was only a food service worker before this. Like an associates does something for you (don't know if that's what he has even he may be a student) I guess, but no wonder these guys aren't ready for engineering.

[i2sunric]

𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌 (s.jy)

PAIRING: nerdy!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: well, it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is perfect, good at school, kind enough tutor you in math and so skilled in bed chem.

WARNINGS: smut. freshman college (they’re 19), jake lives with his parents, grinding, dirty talking, pet names (baby, jakey), manhandling, overstimulation, protected sex (wrap your willies guys), missionary, doggy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 18th April 2025.

WC: 2.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @slut4hee

Jake’s room smelled of books, fresh laundry, and that faint scent of cologne he always wore— clean, crisp. It smelled like home. 

His desk was cluttered but organized in a way that made sense only to him: thick textbooks stacked neatly, a cup overflowing with pens and mechanical pencils, and his laptop open to what looked like an impossibly complicated physics simulation. 

You, on the other hand, were sprawled across his bed, your maths textbook abandoned beside you as you dramatically flopped onto your stomach.  

"Jake," you groaned, voice muffled against his pillow. "I’m going to fail this test, you have to accept that."  

You thought that after high school, all you problems would be resolves. What you didn’t expect, though, was to be forced to take an extra curricular trigonometry lecture that made you want to smash your head against the wall.

Jake, who was sitting at his desk, barely looked up. "You’re not going to fail," he said. "You just need to focus."  

"I have been focusing," you argued, rolling onto your back and stretching out like a starfish. "For, like, fifteen minutes."  

"Exactly," he deadpanned, finally turning to look at you. "That’s not nearly enough."  

You pouted. "But I hate math, it’s stupid and unnecessary. When am I ever going to need to find the limit of a function in real life?"  

Jake sighed, closing his book with a quiet thump. "Math is everywhere," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose, a habit of his that you found way too attractive. "It’s in physics, engineering, technology, everything that makes the world work."  

You rolled your eyes, sitting up. "Okay, Professor Sim, but I don’t want to make the world work.” You scoffed, “i just want to pass this stupid class and never think about numbers again."  

Jake gave you a pointed look. "And I want to make sure my girlfriend doesn’t flunk out of college."  

You grinned, crawling off the bed and walking over to him. "Speaking of your genius brain," you murmured, sliding into his lap without hesitation, straddling his thighs as his chair rolled back slightly from the sudden weight. "How’s your project going?"  

Jake tensed for half a second before exhaling, hands automatically settling on your waist to steady you. 

"It’s going well," he said, though his voice was already shifting, lower, rougher. "But I’ll never finish it if you keep distracting me."  

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "I’m just curious," you purred, looping your arms around his neck. "Tell me what you’re working on, baby."  

Jake sighed, but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he knew exactly what you were doing and was helpless against it anyway.  

"Fine," he said, adjusting his glasses again. "I’m designing a new type of microprocessor, something that can process data faster and more efficiently than the ones currently in use..."  Blah blah blah. 

You weren’t really listening, if you were being honest. 

You liked hearing him talk, loved the way his voice got all passionate when he explained something he cared about, but the actual words? They went right over your head.  

Instead, you focused on the way his hands, so warm and steady, were resting on your waist. Absentminded, like he wasn’t really paying attention, he traced slow circles against the fabric of your sweater, fingertips dipping just beneath the hem to brush against your bare skin.  

You bit your lip, shifting slightly on his lap. "Mmm, keep going."  

Jake didn’t seem to register what you were doing at first. "Right, so,  the idea is that instead of using classical bits, ones and zeroes, you use qubits—"  Again more smart words. 

You rocked against him, slow, almost imperceptible, but enough. Jake inhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin.  

You smirked. "Go on," you teased.  

His jaw clenched. "You’re evil."  

You hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "No, I just really like hearing you talk, baby."  

His hands flexed on your waist, like he was debating something. Then, as if giving in, he exhaled a low chuckle. "You’re such a fucking brat," he muttered, and the way his voice dropped made heat pool between your thighs.s

He moved one hand up, running it along your spine, pushing your sweater up just enough to expose more of your skin to the cool air. The other hand slid lower, gripping your thigh as you ground against him again.  

"You’re not even listening, are you?" he murmured, his lips grazing your ear now.  "Not really," you admitted, breathless.  

His grip tightened, guiding your movements now, encouraging you to move against him with more purpose. "You just like teasing me, huh?"  

"Mmh," you hummed, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips, then his jaw, then his throat. "I like how worked up you get."  

Jake let out a soft curse under his breath, his hips shifting up just slightly to meet yours. "You’re lucky I love you," he muttered, voice strained.  

You grinned. "I know."  

Then, finally, he broke. His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping you tighter as he deepened the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you made as you melted into him. 

His glasses pressed against your cheek, cool against your flushed skin, but neither of you cared.  

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his breath warm, his hands wandering. "Always so fucking needy."  

You whimpered, rolling your hips again, and he groaned "Jakey," you breathed.  

He exhaled shakily, then kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he couldn’t get enough. "You should be studying," he muttered between kisses, even as he ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your sweater higher.  

You smirked. "Make me."  

And, oh, he did.

Jake groaned against your lips, his grip on your waist firm as he lifted you from his lap, standing up with you in his arms. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and you buried your face in his neck, feeling his pulse race under your lips.  Your core pulsated with need, and he could feel it even through your shorts. 

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire as he carried you across the room.  

Jake pushed your math book on the floor, and he laid you down, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again,, like he’d been holding back for too long. 

His hands roamed, slipping under your sweater, pushing it up over your ribs. You arched your back, helping him, and he pulled it off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside.  

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes raking over you. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he pushed them up absentmindedly before leaning down to kiss you again.  

His hands moved with practiced precision, knowing exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, how to make you shiver beneath him. 

His fingers brushed over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your shorts before he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and dragged them down along with your panties,leaving you bare beneath him.  

"You really don’t like making things easy for me, do you?" he murmured, fingers tracing up your inner thigh. 

You smirked, breathless. "Where’s the fun in that?"  

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, but it was strained, like he was barely holding himself together. 

He sat back for a second, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, revealing the toned muscle beneath. 

His skin was warm under your fingers as you reached up, running your hands over his stomach, his chest, feeling him tense beneath your touch.  

"Condom," he muttered, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.  You groaned, letting your head fall back against the pillow. "You always do this."  

"Yeah," he said, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth, "because I’m not stupid."  

You pouted. "I’m on the pill."  

"And I like knowing you’re safe." He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, his glasses sliding down again. "Quit pouting."  

You sighed dramatically but let him roll the condom on, watching as his long fingers worked quickly.  

Then he was over you again, lips on your neck, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he lined himself up.  "You have to be quiet," he murmured, his voice rough as he kissed along your jaw.  

"Or what?" you teased, just to test him.  

Jake exhaled sharply, then pushed into you in one slow, deep stroke. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your back arched off the bed.  

"Or I’ll make you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.  

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started moving, slow at first, like he was savoring every inch of you, but then he set a pace that had you struggling to keep quiet. 

He knew what he was doing, exactly how to angle his hips to make your breath stutter, exactly how to roll his hips so you were gripping at his arms, trying so hard not to moan too loudly.  

His glasses fogged up from how close he was, the heat between you making them useless, but he didn’t stop to take them off. 

You did it for him, reaching up with trembling fingers and sliding them off his face, setting them aside on the nightstand.  

He thanked you with a warm smile. 

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, met yours as he thrust deeper, harder, stealing the air from your lungs. His hand came up, covering your mouth as you let out a soft whimper, muffling the sound.  

"Shh," he murmured, his voice like gravel against your skin. "Don’t want my mother hearing how good I’m fucking you, do you?"  

You shook your head, but your body betrayed you, your nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips into you again. It was all too much.  

You clenched around him, your thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. Jake cursed under his breath, feeling you squeeze around him, and his grip on your hip tightened as he sped up, chasing your release.  

"Come for me," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I wanna feel you."  

That was all it took. 

Your body tensed, pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as you bit down on his hand to keep from crying out. Your vision blurred, your fingers digging in his skin as you came undone beneath him.  

Jake groaned, his movements faltering for half a second before he found his rhythm again, his thrusts rougher now, more desperate. 

He grabbed your leg, hooking it over his hip, pushing deeper, hitting that spot that had you gasping against his palm.  

He hadn’t slowed down. His rhythm was deep, fast, relentless. the bed creaking under both of your weight, the headboard softly hitting the wall in time with his thrusts.

You were still whimpering from your second orgasm, your thighs trembling around his waist, your nails digging red crescents into his shoulder blades. Your breath hitched, another moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it. “Jakey! oh—” 

His hand came up instantly, covering your mouth again, palm warm and firm.

“Quiet,” he hissed against your cheek. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

Your body arched off the bed beneath him, mouth smothered by his hand, eyes rolling back from the sheer pressure, the stretch, the heat. Your muffled cries only made him thrust harder.

“You like this, huh?” he breathed, watching your every twitch, every gasp, every time you tried to cry out under his hand. “You like when I fuck you like this.”

You nodded desperately, the pleasure building again even though your body felt like it couldn’t take more. Your skin burned, your thighs ached, but none of it mattered. Jake was everything— all you could feel, all you could hear, all you could take.

You released against him, hard, back arching as your whole body seized up and shuddered. Your vision blurred. You felt tears sting your lashes, your voice cracking beneath his hand as your second orgasm ripped through you.

He grunted, letting his hand slide away from your mouth only when your cries became soft gasps His lips found yours in a hungry, breathless kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth like he couldn’t stand even a second of distance.

“Shit,” he panted, pulling back just a little to brush his hair from his eyes. He kissed your jaw, your throat, sucking a mark just below your ear before whispering, “Turn over for me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Jake, I can’t—” 

“You can,” he said firmly, kissing you again. “Just one more, baby, you’re doing so good.”

And because it was him uou obeyed.

You turned, limbs shaky, chest pressed to the mattress, ass in the air as you grabbed onto the pillow and buried your face into it. Jake groaned softly behind you.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he muttered, dragging his fingers over your lower back, down to your ass, squeezing firmly. “Messy and fucked out… all for me.”

You felt him line himself up again, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your slick folds before pushing into you in one hard thrust that had you biting into the pillow to stifle a scream.

“Oh my God… Jake.”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, hand curling around your hip to pull you back into him, setting a brutal pace that left your legs shaking, your voice broken into helpless sobs. “You have to be quiet.”

“I can’t,” you cried into the pillow, half-laughing, half-sobbing from how good it felt, how completely he wrecked you. “Jake— it’s too much—”

“You’re taking it so well,” he said, voice strained, one hand gripping your waist while the other slid up your spine, pushing between your shoulder blades to press you further into the mattress. “So fucking good for me.”

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, dragging cries from you no matter how hard you tried to bite them back. You fisted the sheets, knuckles white, body trembling as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot over and over again until your legs gave out.

Jake leaned down, chest against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “You pretend to be all innocent, all shy in front of everyone… but in here? With me? You just want to be ruined.”

You moaned, louder than you meant to, and he growled, his hand flying to your mouth again, fingers pressing your cheek into the pillow.

“You don’t listen,” he hissed, thrusting harder, until the sound of skin against skin echoed through the room. “You want my mother to hear how desperate you are for my cock?”

You shook your head wildly, sobbing beneath his hand as he slammed into you again, and again, and again, until your entire body clenched and your mind blanked. One last orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and dizzying, tearing a scream from your throat that was completely muffled by his palm.

Jake groaned into your neck, biting your shoulder as he came hard, his body collapsing against yours, twitching with aftershocks as he held you tightly, his breath loud and shaky in your ear.

You both stayed like that for a moment, tangled, gasping, hearts pounding like they wanted to leap out of your chests.

Jake pulled out gently, sighing contentedly as he rolled to the side and took the condom off, tying it quickly and tossing it into the bin beside the bed.

He turned to you immediately, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your exhausted body. Your skin was damp with sweat, your legs trembling, your eyes heavy with sleep and satisfaction.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together, sweat-slicked and trembling.  

Jake finally lifted his head, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. He looked wrecked, but somehow, still devastatingly handsome.  

"You okay?" he murmured, pushing your hair out of your face.  

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Mh.. It was so good.”

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "You are a menace."  

You smirked. "You love it."  

"You’re exhausting," he muttered, but his arm was already tightening around you, pulling you close.  

You grinned, snuggling into his chest. "You love that too."  

Jake sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I really do."

[starvales]

a/n : a small contribution to bruce wayne x gn!neglected!reader bcs i love these kinds of stories. the reader is bruce’s child (younger than dick, older than jason ((reader not specified if biological or adopted)) and is in their mid-twenties.

“After all these years, of neglect and ignorance and dismissals, why should I do anything for you? You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know everything about you. Your full name, your birthday, your qualifications—”

You cut him off.

“—If you know me so well, tell me something about me that isn’t projected on a screen in your man-cave.” You slam a specific folder onto the strategy table and snatch the contents inside.

“Tell me something about me that isn’t public knowledge—” Throwing the few and sparse pages at your father, you don’t falter at his stare while he does nothing to stop you.

You remembered praying for a day like this, begging every night against your bed. A day where your father spared you a glance, for even a second. And what did it take?

“For fuck’s sake, tell me something about me that isn’t on a piece of flimsy paper tucked away in an old manila folder gathering dust!”

Almost two decades of complete familial solitude and a favour that apparently only you could fulfil.

One of the pages fall in front of Bruce and he gently takes it into his hold. There’s a picture of you at the top left, barely hanging on by a cheap paper clip. The you in the portrait is staring mechanically at the camera, staring back soullessly at him.

You’re… fifteen in this photo, he thinks.

“Sure, you know my birthday. But what was the flavour of my cake for my first birthday that was celebrated in the manor? I wouldn’t know, because I didn’t have one, let alone anyone to celebrate with.”

You’re seven years old, sitting in front of a sloppy attempt at a cupcake in a cold kitchen, because you couldn’t reach the switches to turn on the heating or lights.

“You know my list of achievements and qualifications— But goddamnit Bruce, why did you not come to any of my award ceremonies or graduations?”

You’re sixteen, graduating high school early with high honours, thinking that maybe, just maybe, your family will show up. You end up walking back to the manor in the dark.

You’re twenty one, graduating gotham university with a doctorate in engineering. The only difference with this graduation, you drive yourself home.

“I was busy and you know that,” Bruce states. States instead of says, because you know he doesn’t know how to speak to you.

“No, I didn’t know that. Wanna know why?”

You round the table, clenching your fists and grinding your teeth, you got right in his face and spat venom.

“Because you didn’t have the decency to tell me yourself.”

[amcgovern17]

Excerpt from Chapter 1 of To the Heart of It

From AO3 by amcgovern17

Bucky/Reader Soulmate AU

(Work in progress! 15/30 chapters posted. Currently 60,000 words)

(Additional tags and info at the bottom ☺️)

December 5, 2018 - Part I

With a loud sigh, you turned off the alarm on your phone and stood up from your bed, shoving papers and your textbook into your bag. You’d already pressed snooze three times. Any more and you would for sure be late.

Your lecture started at 10, which meant you had to be on the subway by 9 if you wanted any chance of making it on time. Laptop, keys, coffee, ID badge… you ran through your checklist, reaching to grab your coffee mug–the one with the Schrödinger’s cat joke-from the counter before heading out the door. You really should buy a travel mug. You always got weird looks from people on the subway, scooching slightly away from you as if waiting for you to spill hot coffee all over them. More space for me, you thought happily.

You grabbed your coat and scarf and locked up your apartment, making your way down three flights of stairs. I need to find a better place to live, you sighed. The super had been promising for months that he would get the elevator fixed and it hadn’t happened yet. While that had been wonderful for your glutes, you were tired of this shithole. Once I get this job, I can look. Finally make enough money so I don’t have to live in this shoebox. You mentally added it to the never ending to do list.

As a graduate assistant in the Columbia University physics department, you were lucky enough to have tuition assistance, but that meant you had to teach three classes a semester of an undergrad physics course. Boring, but generally easy. Most of the students were there to finish out their science requirements, but occasionally you had a few kids actually interested in pursuing physics. Kids, you laughed to yourself. They’re not that much younger than you, dumbass.

You had at least one more year before you completed your PhD, having started your college career a little later than most. You hadn’t been able to afford it early on; the money your adoptive mom had left when she died had not quite been enough. So after high school, you worked long hours at the mechanic shop in town, skipping out on vacations, working holidays, and saving every penny you could manage.

You’d been able to enroll in your undergrad program at 21 at the community college, majoring in engineering, and managed to finish in three years. You were interested in science, the mechanics of how things worked and the theory behind it. Towards the end of undergrad, after attending a guest lecture from a highly regarded physics professor, your interests narrowed.

Your senior thesis project on engineering computations in quantum superposition had been what got you into Columbia, catching the eyes of a few professors. They’d offered you the assistantship while you got your masters, and you’d done so well in it that you kept it through to your doctoral program.

Today you had an interview at Hammer Industries. You hadn’t heard great things about working there, but a job was a job. Even though it was just a receptionist position, you hoped it would be a way to get your foot into the door of the professional world once you graduated. Plus I’ll have my silly little social media side gig, you smiled to yourself as you walked out of your apartment and onto the street, taking the quickest path to the 116th Street–Columbia University subway station and glancing at your watch. Shit, you thought. You were going to be cutting it close. Please make it, please make it.

You reached the platform just in time to slide into the car before the doors closed, finding a decent corner to lean into for the ride. You pulled out your phone while you rode, wanting to post the picture of your study material from earlier to your Instagram stories. You had been posting your graduate physics journey for the last few years and actually had a pretty decent following. You tried to post and interact regularly, putting out content explaining physics in easier terms, but also making the graduate school process as transparent as possible so people could know what to expect. The tiny bit of income you’d earned through it was unexpected (and definitely not enough to live off of), but welcomed.

You pulled up the photo of all your scattered notes, cropping out most of your bed and double checking that there was nothing fully identifiable in the picture. You loved your followers, but you weren’t looking to get a stalker, thank you very much. It was the end of the semester and every deadline, exam, paper, and project was looming over you, so you thought it fitting to add the text ‘My brain is exploding.’

Posted. Done. One more thing off the to do list. You held your coffee mug away from you slightly, knowing the next bend was bumpy and you needed to be careful. You tucked your phone carefully into your pocket, and stood straight, ready to join the herd of people getting off the subway and making their way up the stairs to the streets. Thankfully, the physics building wasn’t too far from the station. I might just have enough time to refill my coffee, you thought happily. Hopefully there isn’t a huge line.

You carefully crossed the street and power walked through the crowds of students milling about, walking into one of the many on-campus coffee shops.

“Hey Professor!” you heard as you waited in line, turning to see who was greeting you. Oh, Peter Parker, you thought, placing his face. From last semester’s UN1202 Physics class, you reminded yourself.

“Mr. Parker, I’m not a professor,” you corrected, smiling at him anyway.

“Yet,” he grinned. “You’re fantastic at it, there’s no way the department doesn’t hire you once you graduate. Hey, did you see they released the lineup for the next symposium?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t checked my email yet today.” You wondered if it would be anything interesting this year. You’d skipped out the last two years because there had been too much focus on string theory for you to justify paying the ticket price and living off of cup ramen for a week. You were hoping this new job would give you just enough extra that you could afford to do things like that more regularly.

You reached the front of the line and greeted the barista, who was already reaching for your mug, knowing exactly what your order was. You swiped your card and dropped a dollar into the tip jar.

“I’m really excited to hear Rovelli. He doesn’t usually do these kinds of presentations anymore. What you said about how he theorized the faster than light possibilities for white holes in class last semester…” Peter whistled. You stood to the side, waiting to pick up your coffee and watched as Peter ordered something with a horrible caffeine to sugar ratio.

“I’m glad to know someone was listening,” you laughed. Even though you taught a freshman level introductory physics class, you often tried to go past some of the basics just to inspire students. Let them know how interesting physics could be beyond the basics of momentum and force and old white men like Issac Newton. “How are your courses this semester, Mr. Parker?”

“Oh, they’re pretty great. It’s been a lot of work balancing a full schedule with my internship and sp…special interests.” You quirked your eyebrow, not sure you wanted to ask about a college student’s special interests. “Hey, I can get tickets for all the symposiums from my internship, would you want to go with me?” Peter asked.

Is he asking me out? you thought, alarmed. “Oh, I…”

The shock must have shown on your face, because horror dawned on Peter’s. “Oh, no. Not like that, just as a friend. Definitely not a date.” Thank god. “I mean, not that you aren’t dateable, just…I have a girlfriend. And you’re my professor. Or were…” he stammered.

“Parker, breathe. It’s okay, I understand,” you laughed. “That would honestly be great. I haven’t really had the extra cash to get tickets to the last few events,” you trailed off, realizing that was probably more information than you should share.

“That’s a shame, really! It would be great content for your quantum questions account!”

“Oh, you know about…” your face scrunched in surprise.

“I figured it out last semester. You always came in with the same coffee that was posted. Sorry, I didn’t realize you…” Peter rubbed the back of his head.

“No, no. It’s fine. Just don’t blast it around please,” you asked, trusting Peter wasn’t going to dox you.

“Hey, here’s my number. I’ll text you about the tickets. I don’t really check my school email a lot,” Peter grinned sheepishly. He held out his Stark Phone towards your phone, and his contact card appeared on your screen.

Fancy, you thought, wondering how a college student could afford a top of the line smartphone. Perks of the internship, I guess.

As the barista handed you back your now-full mug and Peter his drink, you turned to Peter to say goodbye. You had less than 10 minutes now to make it to the lecture hall.

“Well, Mr. Parker, I hope you have a good day,” you said.

“It’s Peter, and thanks! You too Professor, got to run. I’ve got chem lab in five,” he joked. You smiled, watching him take off in the opposite direction, and made your way quickly into Pupin Hall and towards the classroom. Hopefully we can finish up the section on atomic physics today and start early on preparations for the final exam. I need to make sure I’m out of here by 11:30 if I want to get to Manhattan for the interview on time.

You walked through the doors at 9:58, and headed straight to the podium.

“Good morning, scientists, who can tell me the difference between fission and fusion?”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

God, I’m going to be so late. Not a good first impression for an interview, dummy. You finished wiping up as much coffee as you could, throwing the paper towels into a nearby trash can. You had been answering a few questions from students after class when your phone buzzed. You’d reached back distractedly to grab it and knocked over the iced coffee that one of the students had brought to you (lovely girl, she deserves an A+ , you thought jokingly).

You had watched it fall, unable to stop it. Then you sighed as you took in the mess, finishing packing your bag and then snapping a picture before you went to clean it up. You could hear your mom’s voice in your head now, fussing at you for always taking pictures of everything. You had always argued back that you liked documenting things, especially since you hadn’t known anything about the first year or so of your life. You smiled at the memories. Forgetting why you’d reached for your phone in the first place, you pocketed it and knelt down to clean.

“Can I please turn in that report still? My grandmother died, I couldn’t write it because of the funeral, and…” one of your students was saying, having run up at the last minute while you were wiping up coffee.

“Mr. Davis, please. Save it. You’ve had 5 grandmothers die this semester if my count is correct.” You shot him a look. At least he has the decency to look abashed. “The deadline for makeup work is midnight tonight. Get it done.”

“Thank you! I won’t let you down!” he exclaimed as he ran off.

Doubtful, you thought. Unfortunately, that was the reality of most semesters. There were always students who didn’t care to do the work until the last minute. But you refused to have to grade late work, determined that your winter break would be a true break. You needed it every year. So your makeup work deadline was set in stone.

You grabbed your things and made a quick walk to your office to print your resume. I really need to stop waiting until the last minute to do things like this, you thought.

You glanced at your watch and sighed, turning back to the doors to head out instead of to your office. It was at least a 5 minute walk to the subway station, which meant you would miss it. Which meant you’d likely be late for the interview. Fucking great.

“Could this day get any worse?” you muttered to yourself as you walked out of the building, hoping they would accept a digital copy of your resume. You pulled out your phone to email the document to the person you’d set up the interview with, and saw several notifications on your phone that you had missed.

Well, fuck, you thought, heart dropping. You squinted up at the sky. Are those…planes? You could see things zooming all over. People were stopped everywhere just like you, looking up and trying to figure out what the things were.

That’s…people? Aliens? Spaceships. Shit. That can’t be good, you thought, realizing too late what you were seeing. One of the flying motorcycle-like vehicles zoomed past, flying very low to the street. What looked like a laser (can’t be, can it?) shot from the front, hitting a taxi which promptly exploded into flames.

People were screaming now, and scattering. Fuck, fuck, shit, came your frantic thoughts. You ran down the steps and pressed yourself up against the wall of the building, trying to avoid getting trampled. You watched in horror as more of the creatures descended. A couple of them landed, pointing their weapons at the people running. They were shouting something, but you couldn’t understand.

You turned the corner and looked toward the subway entrance. Can I make it… there were dozens of people running everywhere. Two of the attackers were flying in circles low to the ground around a group of what looked like students. Run! Oh my god, get out . You were frozen, eyes wide and trying to figure out if you could help. Without getting myself killed in the process.

An explosion rocked the ground, and you crouched down, covering your head with your arms and squeezing your eyes tight. There goes the coffee shop, you thought, seeing smoke coming from down the block. You heard more gunshots, looking up to figure out where they were coming from; to figure out which direction to run, what might be safest.

You felt a buzzing under your skin, which you assumed was adrenaline, and a sudden pull to look to your left. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw it: the Avengers had arrived.

Captain America had thrown his shield at one of the aliens, who dropped to the ground. Its friend turned on the Captain, firing its weapon. He managed to duck behind his shield, but the– is that actually a laser beam? Woah, how’d they…no, shut up brain. Not the time! You looked ahead, deciding that up the road toward the Avengers would be safer. Maybe you could get behind them, could get…

Iron Man landed not fifty feet away from you, bringing a group of flying assailants after him. You ducked again, trying to make yourself as small as possible, scraping your elbow against the side of the building. You hissed and grabbed your arm, feeling the rip in your shirt sleeve, pulling your hand back and seeing bright red. Shit. You must’ve scraped half your skin off.

“Get out of here,” Iron Man yelled back towards you. Don’t need to tell me twice, you thought frantically, darting forward across the sidewalk. Your instincts told you to head that way. There was more fighting ahead in front of the now destroyed coffee shop. You ran over the broken glass, hoping nothing would make it through your shoes. Black Widow and the Winter Soldier appeared through the smoke, followed by four of the creatures. Up close, you could see the alien better. A tall, grey, reptilian thing… are those the things that attacked in the Battle of New York? The Cthulhu? The Chitauri? The Chipotle? I wonder if they eat space burritos…

There were a few people trying to sneak out of the destroyed coffee shop, watching the Chitauri fighting Black Widow and the Winter Soldier. You looked back behind you to see if it was clear, then hurriedly waved the people out of the building. “This way, come on!” you pointed towards the alley, hoping the courtyard would be safer than the streets.

As the people ran past you, you saw one of the Chitauri look your way, its attention drawn by all the noise or the movement. You weren’t entirely sure what kind of senses they had. Oh no, no, no you don’t. Before you put much thought to it, you darted back up the road, away from the people you’d just gotten out. Why you felt you deserved to be the distraction, you couldn’t tell.

You heard another explosion from behind, far enough away that you didn’t feel it thankfully. You scrambled through the debris in front of you, looking for the next safe spot. There, you thought, seeing the doors into the mathematics building. You’d made it a few yards when you felt a body slam into yours, knocking you to the ground. You tried to roll into the fall, but braced too much with your arm. You let out a yell as you felt your wrist jam and your shoulder take the brunt of the impact, and felt your head hit the ground right after. Ow, you thought as your vision blurred. Before you could push yourself up, something pulled you up by your shirt. You turned just enough to see the alien’s ugly face as it roared at you.

“Ugh, fuck! Brush your teeth or something, dude!” you grimaced as you tried to squirm out of its grip, kicking at its torso. The Chitauri warrior growled, then reached its other hand around your neck and lifted you up higher. You clawed at its scaly hand, trying to keep it from choking you.

Black dots started swirling in your vision. I have to get out…can’t breathe… The buzzing under your skin intensified, and you wondered briefly if that’s what it felt like when you didn’t get enough oxygen to your brain. You landed a good kick, hearing the creature grunt in pain just as you saw a metal arm wrap around its neck and twist. You heard a sickening crunch and felt your body drop to the ground when the alien’s grip loosened. You looked up at the Winter Soldier pulling a knife out of the alien’s back. He looked over at you, his blue-grey eyes piercing through you, then scanned behind you looking for danger. Jesus dude, way to make killing aliens look good, your addled brain thought. The buzzing feeling was starting to be hard to ignore, a loud hum in your head now, an insistence that you didn’t understand. I wonder if I have a concussion.

The Soldier stepped over the alien, his metal hand grabbing you under your uninjured shoulder and lifting you up. The buzzing stopped immediately. You barely gained your footing as he pulled you over to the side of the building.

“That way,” he nodded behind you and you glanced at where he was looking. “Go.”

You weren’t going to argue, really. But the buzzing was back, like a pull this time. As you turned back to thank him, you saw a Chitarui weapon swing toward him and you acted. All you could hear was that hum; something in your body screaming at you to protect him, to save him, to get him out of the way. You lurched forward and powered into the Soldier, tackling him around the middle, using your entire body strength to take him off balance and knock him back. Away from the laser, which had been aimed right between where the two of you had been standing. Safe, your body hummed.

The only reason you were able to knock him back was your unexpected move, but he must have quickly realized what you were doing. Mid fall, he twisted your bodies so that he would take the brunt of the falling debris as the explosion wracked the building you were next to. His eyes were as wide as yours as you both fell to the ground, and you could see the flecks of blue hidden within the grey. You could feel the heat of the fire on your skin, which felt like it was being sandblasted. You could feel his arms through his tac suit wrapped tightly around you, the clear difference between the flesh and the metal.

Safe, you thought again. You felt the wind knocked out of your body as your back made contact with the ground with the Soldier's full weight on top of you. You felt his breath on your face as he grunted through the debris impacts.

Your focus was immediately drawn to behind the Soldier’s head. He must have seen the horror on your face as chunks of the building rained down on you. He tried to wrap his metal arm around your head to protect you, but he could only do so much. A chunk of concrete grazed the side of your head and the world went black.

READ MORE HERE

[yuurei20]

Malleus Facts Part 56: Technology

Malleus says that even he has blind sports in his knowledge, using “modern gadgets” and an example, but he knows that it shouldn’t try to avoid machines forever.

He says that, if he were to transfer dorms, he would choose Ignihyde for the opportunity to learn new things, such as technomantic engineering.

Throughout the game we see Malleus confused by GPS, learn that fireworks and projection mapping are not magic and say he wishes to learn how to use a smartphone to conjure items (online shopping).

Malleus says that, much like magic, he supposes machinery cannot solve everything.

While not stated explicitly it is possible Malleus did not understand how to use the voting system at the VDC: when he and Lilia appear on screen together only one voting sound is played.

When Leona recommends that Silver call Malleus’ phone in order to find him Silver says that Malleus “may have broken all his devices with his lightning again,” which seems to be a not-uncommon occurrence.

In a vignette Malleuse insists that his phone simply broke on its own and he did nothing to it, but after Lilia presses for details he reveals that he cast a washing spell on it, since it was dirty.

Malleus explains that he broke a previous phone by flying too high and causing condensation with the sudden shifts in temperature, and another phone by touching it while carrying traces of lightning, and another phone by melting it via fire-breathing.

Malleus breaks his tamagotchi by getting it wet in the school’s botanical gardens.

When Floyd breaks their stall’s cotton candy machine, Malleus touches it and causes a sound that Sebek describes as similar to that of an explosion. Sebek declares that neither he nor Malleus “are so craven that (they) require the aid of mechanical contrivances!”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Would you consider writing a Reload/SKOM James x tomboy!reader? Maybe she’s a car mechanic (and that’s how they met, cause I think around that era he really got into cars) so she doesn’t really do make up, sexy outfits, etc. but she starts to notice that James never introduces her as “girlfriend”, but only as a friend. At first she thinks that he wants to keep relationship private but then she finds out that James is a bit ashamed of dating a “tomboy”; so out of spite she asks her best friend for a makeover and goes on a date with someone else? James finds out, crushes the date and finally admits he screwed up?

I loved this idea, I hope you like it!❤ (Girls, always dress as you want and not for others, no one has the right to change. Be yourself!💕)

__________

Tomboy in a Twist of Heels

I’d always been more at home with engines than I was in a shopping mall or a fancy restaurant. I loved getting my hands dirty, working on cars, and fixing whatever needed fixing. So when I first met James, it wasn’t because of his fame or the fact that he was the frontman of Metallica — it was because he was a car guy, just like me. He’d show up at my garage with his collection of classic cars, and I’d spend hours helping him with whatever project he had going on. He was intense, smart, and easy to talk to — especially when the subject was cars.

We never really talked about our relationship. He’d come by, we’d hang out, maybe grab a beer after work. I didn’t care about the Hollywood rock star life — the leather jackets, the wild parties, the “groupies” that were probably lingering around him at every corner. And I didn’t care about all the attention he got. That wasn’t why I liked him. It was the way he treated me when we were together. The way he listened when I talked about carburetors or suspension systems.

But there was one thing that started to bug me. James would always introduce me as a “friend.” A friend. No “girlfriend,” no “this is Y/N, she’s special to me.” It was always just “friend.”

At first, I thought maybe he wanted to keep things low-key. After all, he was in the spotlight all the time, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who needed more attention on his private life. I could get that. But after a while, it started to eat at me. I wasn’t a “friend,” I was his girlfriend. We’d spent months together, had plenty of intimate moments, but he never once acknowledged it outside of our little bubble. Why wouldn’t he just own it? Why wouldn’t he call me what I was?

One afternoon, after yet another “friend” introduction, I finally decided I’d had enough. I needed to know what was going on. If he wasn’t going to tell me, I was going to make him see me in a way that he couldn’t ignore.

I replayed that moment in my head. “This is Y/N, she’s a friend.” The words stung, but it wasn’t just that. There was something in the way he said it — like he was embarrassed. And that’s when it hit me. He wasn’t just keeping our relationship private. He was ashamed of me. Ashamed of me being the girl I was — the girl who didn’t care about makeup or dresses, who didn’t fit into the stereotypical rock star girlfriend mold. I was a tomboy — and that was what he couldn’t handle.

The realization hit like a slap in the face. And it made me angry. Not because I was ashamed of who I was — but because I realized that he was.

I called up Mia, my best friend, and filled her in.

"I need a change," I said, wiping grease off my hands as I leaned against the workbench, staring at the open hood of a Mustang. "I need to make James really see me."

Mia raised an eyebrow. “A makeover?”

I winced a little, but nodded. “Yeah. Maybe if I look different, maybe if I look like someone else, he’ll realize what he’s missing. Maybe then he’ll actually see me, instead of just his ‘buddy from the shop.’”

Mia didn’t need to be told twice. A few days later, I found myself sitting in a salon chair — me, the girl who hadn’t used a curling iron since high school. Mia styled my hair, helped me with makeup (subtle, just enough to highlight what I had), and picked out a dress I never thought I’d wear — a deep red, tight-fitting thing that hugged my curves in all the right places. It felt weird, walking around in heels instead of boots or sneakers. But it also felt… good.

When I stepped into the mirror, I barely recognized the woman who was staring back at me. I wasn’t used to this version of myself. But something about it — the look, the confidence — made me feel like I could finally take control. Like I could be seen.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I was hoping for, but I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to keep letting him ignore what we were.

That night, I had plans to meet Nick, some guy I’d met at a local club a few weeks back. Nothing serious — just a way to make a statement. To show James what he was missing. To prove that I wasn’t just going to sit around waiting for him to figure his shit out.

The restaurant was fancy — the kind of place where the lights are dimmed just enough for people to think they’re on a date but not enough for anyone to actually see your face clearly. When I stepped inside, I saw James. He was walking past the window, probably heading to some meeting or another, but the moment he saw me, he froze.

I turned toward Nick, putting my attention on him, flashing a grin like I didn’t have a care in the world. But I noticed the way James’s eyes lingered on me, how he tried to make sense of the woman sitting there. The woman I was now.

I could feel James staring, could feel the weight of his confusion. But I didn’t care. I didn’t.

I got up from the table, purposefully walking past him without even acknowledging his presence.

“Y/N?” James’s voice cut through the air, rougher than usual.

I looked at him with no more emotion than a passing acquaintance. “Hey, James,” I said, before turning back to Nick. “This is Nick. We’re just getting to know each other.”

I could see James trying to figure out if this was real or some kind of joke. He was caught off guard, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not anymore.

“Can we have a word?” James asked, his voice low, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

I stood up, taking a slow breath as I gave Nick an apologetic smile.

“I’ll be right back. Can you give us a moment?” I asked, before stepping away, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I made my way toward James.

James immediately stepped forward, his face tense, his hands in his pockets as he walked with me outside. The chill of the night air hit me, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body. James fell into step beside me, but neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

We stopped in front of my car, the silence hanging between us until I turned to face him. “What is it, James?”

He seemed to struggle with his words, running a hand through his hair before looking at me, his eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen before—guilt. “Look, we need to talk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then talk.”

He hesitated, his voice low, more raw than usual. “I screwed up, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot. I should’ve never acted like I was ashamed of you. I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle things, and I thought—hell, I thought you deserved someone better, someone who fit this image of what a ‘girlfriend’ is supposed to look like. But I was wrong. I was just a damn coward.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt my chest tighten as I looked at him, trying to absorb what he was saying. This was a lot. But it wasn’t enough to make the anger go away just yet.

“You were ashamed of me?” I asked, my voice trembling a little with the weight of it all. “Of who I am?”

“I know it sounds stupid,” he said quickly, running a hand over his face. “But I was scared. Scared of what people would think—scared of what it meant to be with someone like you. Someone who doesn’t fit the mold, someone who’s not trying to be someone else. I see it now, though. I see how messed up I was.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a mixture of hurt and relief flooding through me. “You should’ve figured that out before, James. Not after I had to make you see me.”

“I know,” he said, voice full of regret. “You’re right. But I’m here now. I don’t want to hide it anymore. I want the world to know you’re mine. You’re my girlfriend. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us.”

I stood there for a moment, considering his words. The anger was still there, but it was fading slowly. “It’s not just about saying it. It’s about showing it. You should’ve shown me that from the start.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “You’re right. I won’t mess it up again. I swear it.”

I let out a breath, the tension leaving my body. “I’m still pissed, James. But… I’m willing to listen.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere, almost a whisper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out for mine. “Can I make it up to you?”

I looked up at him, still unsure but letting myself believe in his words for once. “You can start by giving me a real date. No hiding. Just you and me.”

A small smile broke through his serious expression. “It’s a deal.”

He reached for me, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m not letting you go. Not again.”

I pulled away a bit, feeling a sharp ache in my feet. These damn heels were killing me. I let out a long sigh, wincing. “James, I swear I’m gonna lose my mind with these shoes. I hate them. They’re killing me.”

He chuckled, glancing down at my feet. “I’m sure you look great in them, but I can see how that’s not much of a comfort right now.”

“I’m done,” I muttered, shifting my weight and practically glaring at my shoes. “I’m leaving them right here.”

Before he could say anything, I kicked the heels off with a frustrated huff, watching them tumble to the side.

James raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he watched me. “You really just gonna leave them there?”

“I’m not walking another step in these.” I crossed my arms, trying to look defiant, though part of me felt a little ridiculous standing barefoot on the pavement.

James’s grin softened into something more playful, but there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes. “You know, you’re something else, Y/N”

Then, without any warning, he stepped forward, bent down, and scooped me up into his arms, bridal style. I froze, caught off guard as I gasped in surprise.

“James, what the—” I started, but the suddenness of it stopped me mid-sentence.

He looked down at me, his expression half-amused, but something else—gentle—seemed to slip through. “You’re not walking barefoot on the street. I’m taking you home. I’m not gonna let you suffer in those heels anymore.”

I blinked at him, my heart racing, my feet dangling in the air. “What? Are you—seriously?”

“Yup,” he said, grinning, but there was more sincerity in his voice now. “I’m here to save the day. I owe you that much.”

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “You owe me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice softer now, the teasing replaced by real regret. “For not treating you like you deserve earlier. For hiding you away. For being an idiot. Let me make it up to you. Even if it’s just carrying you to the car.”

I chuckled despite myself, my mood lightening. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.”

And with that, he began striding confidently toward his car, holding me effortlessly like I was the most important thing in the world. I relaxed into his arms, feeling the weight of the night lifting away, the tension between us slowly dissolving.

He opened the door, carefully placing me in the passenger seat, and gave me a warm, almost apologetic wink. “Next time, I’ll make sure you’re wearing something more comfortable. And I’ll make sure you’re never ashamed of who you are. I promise.”

I smiled softly, feeling something shift inside me. “I’ll hold you to that,” I said, looking at him as he closed the door gently.

He walked around to the driver’s side, his movements more tender than usual. As he started the car, I let out a soft sigh, finally feeling the tension melt away.

James glanced over at me as we pulled out, his eyes soft but focused. Then, without saying anything, he rested his hand gently on my thigh, his touch grounding, reassuring. It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of it spread through me, making me realize something.

Maybe it wasn’t about the shoes or the date or any of that. Maybe it was about him finally seeing me. The real me. The one I didn’t need to hide. And that was enough.

I looked at him, a soft smile tugging at my lips as I rested my hand on his. He glanced over at me, giving me that same small, sincere smile in return.

[midasriku]

hostile work environment • lhc smau

SYNOPSIS • with student loans and his apartment rent due, psychology major haechan swears he’ll get a job at the record store despite never having worked a day in his life. what happens when he creeps out his workplace mentor, first day on the job? and what happens when she kinda finds him funny?

YN & FRIENDS ♡

yn… is an education major. she’s always been top of her class since high school but instead of pursuing a better career, she’s dead set on becoming a teacher to further improve the education system. on the outside, she seems calm and nonchalant like her brother. you should ask her close friends what she’s really like.

renjun… is an economics major. arguably the most normal in the friend group (arguably). renjun tends to hold grudges towards people who wrong him, even looking at him weird gets you a grudge. but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his friends. on the other hand, working as a cashier at the campus coffee shop seems like a bad idea for the certified hater.

jisung… is a computer science major. as renjun’s roommate, he naturally joined the friend group. for some reason, he’s really lucky on the stock market so he doesn’t really need to get a job. had a crush on yn for about a month before he got yelled at by renjun.

giselle… is a fashion major. giselle and yn have been best friends since high school. when they found out they were going to the same university, it felt like the universe was on their side. besides spending most of her time at the campus coffee shop oggling a certain athletic barista, she works at flamin’ hot records with yn.

ningning… is an education major. she was sitting next to yn on the first day of class and the two instantly clicked. once giselle joined the picture, it was like finding the missing puzzle piece. manning the cashier at flamin’ hot records is no biggie when she gets to admire her manager/best friends brother all day.

FLAMIN’ HOT RECORDS 💿

jaehyun… is a music major. after being handed his uncle’s record store, jaehyun is undeniably the busiest man on campus. with his final project (that he needs to graduate) due by the end year on top of handling the record store, he needs a couple extra hands to make his life slightly easier. at least he doesn’t have to worry about his little sister. right?

jungwoo… is a mechanical engineering major. he swears up and down that jaehyun will hand him the record store when he graduates, but one more slip up with the inventory might just cost him his job. unfortunately, jungwoo’s also the only that can work the store’s electrical system.

masterlist haechan & friends

[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

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Benjamin Levin

Killing Nazis at age 14

Benjamin Levin was a young resistance fighter who, as one of the notorious “Avengers,” spent World War II hiding in a Lithuanian forest, emerging only to kill Nazis or bomb their supply chains.

Benjamin was born in Vilna in 1927. His father Chaim was a successful businessman and the family lived a comfortable life. In 1941, however, Chaim was tipped off that Nazi Germany was about to invade Lithuania. As Jews, that meant the Levins’ days were numbered. Chaim quickly sold his business at a loss, used the proceeds to buy weapons, and went into hiding with his family.

At the time, Benjamin was a 14 year old juvenile delinquent who’d started smoking at age 8 and was member of a street gang. After the German invasion, he chose not to stay with his parents in their hiding place, instead joining the fierce resistance group known as the “Avengers” led by Abba Kovner. Benjamin was an immediate asset to the group due to his unique combination of exceptional bravery and diminutive size. His baby face and unassuming appearance enabled him to avoid attracting attention, even in enemy territory.

Hidden in a Lithuanian forest, the teenager and his fellow Avengers killed Nazis, bombed their transportation lines, and smuggled life-saving food and medicine into the Jewish ghettoes. It was later estimated that the brave band of guerrilla fighters had killed 212 Nazis. Their policy was “take no prisoners.” In 1944, the Jewish fighters helped the Russian army liberate Vilna, after which they marched through town looking for Nazi collaborators to execute.

Benjamin’s parents survived the war in hiding, but when they returned to Vilna to reclaim their home, their former neighbors murdered them on the spot. With nothing to keep them in Europe, Benjamin and his sister moved to pre-state Israel, where he joined the Jewish militant group Irgun, fighting the British occupation of Palestine. Benjamin was in charge of helping Jewish survivors in Europe relocate to Israel. Benjamin’s street smarts and people skills served him well as he traveled through Turkey and Syria with European Holocaust survivors.

The Soviet army did not appreciate Benjamin’s work rescuing Jews from behind the Iron Curtain, and in 1947 he was arrested and sent to a Siberian gulag. After a year, Benjamin was released from the gulag and hitchhiked his way to Southern Europe, where he reconnected with the Irgun in Italy. The organization arranged for him to enroll in college and earn a degree in mechanical engineering. He was assigned to the engine room of a ship that sailed around the world, collecting money, weapons and volunteers to fight for the Jewish state.

The ship was called Altalena, and headed to Israel with hundreds of Holocaust survivors on board, as well as Jewish volunteers from around the world, and a cache of heavy ammunition secretly donated by France. When the Altalena reached Tel Aviv and tried to dock, the ship came under fire by the Haganah, a rival military group. Under machine-gun fire, young Benjamin leapt off the ship and swam to shore, then snuck into the country unnoticed. He had been through so much in the previous several years, had lived so many lives and assumed so many identities, that he actually forgot his own birthday. Later, he decided to make Passover – the festival of freedom – his official birthday.

Benjamin met his wife Sara, a Hungarian immigrant, in Israel, and ironically she was serving with the Haganah when they fired on the Altalena. Together they had two children, and moved to New York in 1967, where Benjamin worked as a mechanic and owned a gas station. In the 1990’s, Benjamin was interviewed extensively by Steven Spielberg as part of the Shoah Foundation oral history project.

For decades, Benjamin was an in-demand public speaker at New York high schools, where he spoke about the Holocaust and his remarkable life. Toward the end of his life, Benjamin was unable to speak, but he insisted on continuing his school appearances, with his son Chaim – named for Benjamin’s father – doing the speaking for him. Chaim remembered how much Benjamin loved interacting with students, and described his father as having “an enormous amount of energy and joy and love.”

Benjamin Levin died on April 13, 2020 at age 93. The last survivor of the Avengers, Benjamin died during Passover – his adopted birthday.

For heroically fighting Nazis and saving European Jews, and for educating generations of New York schoolchildren about the Holocaust, we honor Benjamin Levin as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[eveningcreative]

DogDay and Eve’s lore

Well… I finally finished writing the lore for Eva and DogDay! This is my first time writing something like this, and I’m kinda nervous to share it. But I put a lot of heart into it, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Eve’s lore

Eve spent her entire childhood in the Playtime Co. factory orphanage, surrounded by other orphaned children. Her parents were scientists and high-ranking employees within the company. Her mother specialized in child psychology, studying their behavior, emotions, and motivations. Her father was an engineer, responsible for creating and maintaining the machinery used in the project. They often brought Eva to work with them to show her various experiments, devices, and mechanisms. This sparked her interest in science and technology from a young age. However, her parents didn’t show her much love or affection. They made sure her basic needs were met and tried to entertain her in some way. They were more like “overseers” and “mentors” than loving parents. They were quite cold and distant, dedicating more time to their work than to their daughter.

Eve was different from the other orphans. She was observant, intuitive, and possessed logical and analytical thinking skills. She was wise beyond her years, which not only set her apart from the other children, but also made her an outcast. She was either feared because of her “special” parents, or envied for her access to information and “privileges.” She was often teased, had her toys taken away, and was locked in dark rooms. She felt lonely and misunderstood. She didn’t have any real friends. One day, she was locked in a room where she sat for several hours until DogDay found her. He was the only one Eva could truly open up to. They felt a connection based on their shared living conditions in the orphanage. They were two lonely souls, understanding each other without words. They were united by a shared sense of anxiety and alienation from everything around them.

DogDay was the embodiment of kindness and optimism, while Eva was withdrawn and distrustful. They were like siblings, who could tell each other about all their fears and dreams. They often played together, hiding from the other children and the scientists, and observed what was happening around them. Together, they dreamed of a future without the factory, experiments, and fear. They dreamed of a world where they could be happy.

August 8, 1995. A day Eve prefers to forget. The “Hour of Joy” event. She remembered the screams, the toys attacking people, and even the death of her parents. She survived by a miracle, but sadly, she forgot how she managed to survive this terrible event and how she got out of the factory. The last thing Eve remembered was DogDay’s hand, tightly holding hers, and then… emptiness. Her brain blocked the traumatic memories, leaving only blurred images of horror. She suddenly found herself on the street near the factory. She was wearing a yellow jacket that belonged to her parents; it was too big for such a small child. The factory was closed, her parents were dead, and she had nowhere to go.

Eve wandered the streets for a long time, hungry and freezing. She was afraid of every sound, every passerby. She hid in dark alleys, eating whatever she could find in trash cans or on the outdoor tables of cafes, until compassionate people noticed her.They managed to find living relatives: aunts and uncles on her mother’s side who lived in a small town, far from the factory. They agreed to take Eve in because there was no one else. Life with them was difficult. The relatives were cold and distant towards her, considering her a burden. They didn’t understand her pain and didn’t try to help her deal with the trauma. They thought she was strange and unsociable. Eve felt like a stranger in their home, lonely and misunderstood. She tried to stay away from them, spending all her free time in her room reading books or thinking.

At school, Eve also felt like an outsider. She was “that strange girl whose parents died at the toy factory.” The other children avoided her, feared her, and whispered behind her back, calling her a “factory psycho” and an “orphan.” At first, Eve tried to ignore the taunts, but then she started to fight back. Over time, she became more aggressive and sharp in her communication. She lashed out at teachers and classmates, being rude and snappy, even to those who genuinely wanted to help her. She was often punished for this, which only worsened her loneliness. Although Eva was a good student (mostly getting As and Bs), she sometimes skipped classes to be alone and think about her life. She would run away to abandoned places or hide in the library, where she could feel safe.

Over time, Eve accepted her fate. She realized that no one could help her except herself, that everyone is for themselves, and that pity is a weakness, not a solution. She lived by the principle of “better to be alone than with those who don’t understand.” She learned to hide her feelings, putting on a mask of indifference to protect herself from other people’s pain and misunderstanding. She became strong and independent, but deep down, she remained a vulnerable and lonely girl, dreaming of love and understanding.

In her youth, Eve became interested in journalism, seeing it as an opportunity to bring the truth to the people. She also enjoyed drawing and reading, which helped her cope with her emotions. Eve went to university to study journalism, dreaming of investigating the mysteries of the past, uncovering the truth about Playtime Co., and avenging her parents and DogDay. She wanted to find answers to her questions and learn all the secrets of the factory.

Eve proved to be a talented and driven student – writing critical articles and raising difficult questions. She lived in a rented apartment near the university and worked as a freelancer, completing writing assignments. She also worked as a barista in a small coffee shop near the university. She didn’t particularly like the job, but she appreciated the financial stability and the quiet atmosphere.

One day, Eve receives a mysterious letter mentioning the abandoned Playtime Co. factory. She realizes that she must learn the truth about what happened there. Despite her fear, her determination takes over, and she sets off for the factory. She remembers every place, every corner of her childhood, the good moments with her parents. She encountered Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Legs, and CatNap, but now they had become bloodthirsty monsters. While exploring the factory, she meets someone she thought was dead—DogDay. He turns out to have been alive all this time, but his legs had been torn off. Without hesitation, Eva saves him from the corrupted Smiling Critters, not wanting to lose him again. They take a break, and Eva reconstructs DogDay’s legs from the parts of dead Smiling Critters and teaches him how to walk again.

After the final battle with CatNap, DogDay joins Eve, Kissy, and Poppy. Poppy shows Eve the recording of the “Hour of Joy” event. While watching it, Eve first experiences PTSD, and then a panic attack. DogDay and Kissy help her to recover. But suddenly, the Prototype attacks Kissy, so Eve and DogDay have to separate from Poppy.

On her way, she meets the Doey and he shows her the way to the hideout and meets DogDay, Poppy, and Kissy, but she suffered greatly from the Prototype. The hideout was home to toys who opposed the Prototype. Surprisingly, everyone recognized her as the “surviving orphan.” Eve doesn’t understand why they call her an orphan and why everyone remembers her and hopes that she will save them. But before Eva could recover from her past trials, new ones arose: moral choices, a choice between Dowie and Poppy, DogDay’s secret, the explosion of the hideout, a battle with Doey, and the last straw was an argument with DogDay before the explosion. This explosion finally separated them, Eve fell into the abyss, and DogDay was saved by Doey. But will they be able to meet again if they pass the tests for redemption of their mistakes and sins?

To be continued…

DogDay’s lore

Before he became DogDay, he was just an ordinary boy, and a close friend to both Eve and Theodore. In Playcare, he was a favorite among the orphans. His kindness and ability to connect with everyone drew people to him. He knew how to support, cheer up, and create a sense of community, which is why he was valued and respected.He was a natural leader, even though he never sought the role. He always found the right words to comfort a crying child or encourage a shy one. He knew how to see the good in everyone and helped them unlock their potential. His leadership skills, empathy, and ability to influence others made him an ideal candidate for the “Big Body” experiment.

Suddenly, the boy noticed that Theodore had become increasingly withdrawn, gloomy, and obedient. He saw the sparkle fade from his eyes. He tried to talk to him, but Theo avoided conversations. This continued until he accidentally overheard Theodore talking to his “imaginary friend.” He heard whispers, but couldn’t make out the words. The words were indistinct, like whispers from another world, but they carried a sinister threat. His intuition told him that something was wrong with the imaginary friend, and that Theo was in danger, but he didn’t know how to help him. For the sake of his close friend, he tried to get closer to Theo’s friend. As it turned out later, this imaginary friend was the Prototype. He managed to gain the Prototype’s trust in order to learn more about it. During his conversations with the Prototype, the boy realized that it couldn’t be trusted. He tried to save Theo from its influence, but unfortunately, he was taken away for experimentation and transformed into the initiator of the “Big Body,” before Theodore. So he became DogDay, one of the “Smiling Critters,” while Theodore became CatNap, his role being to lull the children to sleep at night.

After his transformation, DogDay was appointed “Head Caregiver” at Playcare. He was supposed to entertain the children, watch over them, and create the illusion of a normal life. He hated his role, but he understood that he had to play it in order to protect the others. DogDay looked at the children with a pain in his heart. He saw them as victims, just like himself, and wanted to protect them from further suffering. He still blamed himself for not being able to save Theodore, and hoped that he could help him someday.One day, he heard someone crying in the Playtime. It was coming from a closed room. After a few attempts, DogDay managed to open the door, and in the room sat a girl who was younger than the other orphans. He recognized her. It was Eve. As it turned out, the orphans had locked her up and abused her. From that day on, DogDay vowed to protect Eva. That’s how their second friendship began. DogDay and Eve became close again.

DogDay led a double life. By day, he was a cheerful and energetic leader, following the scientists’ orders and entertaining the children. But at night, he secretly helped his friends, gathered information about Playtime Co.’s plans, and passed it on to informants. In his free time, he spent time with Eve, played with her, and they told each other stories. He regretted betraying her as a child, but he couldn’t directly tell her who he was, because he was afraid she wouldn’t believe him and it would cause her psychological trauma.

The scientists noticed that he wasn’t fulfilling his duties and was constantly distracted by one particular child. They began to punish him with cruel methods. They tortured him with electric shocks, starved him, deprived him of sleep, and forced him to watch cruel experiments. When Eve saw his scars and burns, DogDay brushed it off, saying that he had simply hurt himself or fallen, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. He knew that his deception wouldn’t go unnoticed, and that one day Eve would learn the truth. But he couldn’t do otherwise. He had to protect her, even if it meant destroying himself. DogDay came up with a code name for Eve: “Angel.” He didn’t choose it randomly. He whispered it every time he looked at her, as if it were his prayer for salvation. He saw in Eve innocence, purity, and hope for a better future.But even so, DogDay continued to be punished for disobedience. Fearing for his life, he made a difficult decision: to spend less time with Eve. It pained him to be apart from her, but he understood that it was necessary for her safety. He secretly watched over her to make sure she was okay, and prayed that she would be happy.

August 8, 1995, arrived. It was an ordinary morning. DogDay, as usual, was seeing the children off to school. Suddenly, a siren sounded, and the toys transformed into predatory and bloodthirsty monsters. Some toys began rescuing the orphans. DogDay’s first priority was to find Eve. He saved her, but at the cost of his freedom. The Prototype learned about DogDay’s true role and gave him an ultimatum: he must obey in exchange for his life. He still continued to lead a double life: he helped the surviving toys who fought against the Prototype, and he obeyed the Prototype along with its supporters. However, the Prototype uncovered DogDay’s betrayals, and as punishment, he ordered CatNap, his loyal servant, to tear off his close friend’s legs and hang him in a cage.

He had been there for a long time. He counted the minutes, hours, days, weeks.

Years later… DogDay hung on the straps as usual, without his lower body. Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He raised his head and saw her… his angel. A girl in a yellow jacket, only her hair was now dyed half purple, and she had grown up. It was Eve, his childhood friend. And then… he was saved.

Afterward, DogDay was restored and was able to stand on his own two feet again. It seemed like they were together again, that they could defeat the Prototype and his supporters together. But unfortunately, there were also informants. One such informant was Harley Sawyer. He told Eve that DogDay had been loyal to the Prototype, twisting facts and truth and playing on her feelings, traumas, and emotions. After the explosion of the hideout, a conflict occurred between them, which forced them to separate again. DogDay felt like he had betrayed Eve again, and felt guilty for not telling her everything sooner.

To be continued…

[durge-marzio]

Modern/College AU design wips, because I have no idea when the completed lineup of all the companions will be done.

Karlach, Marzio, Gortash, Gale, & Kiln (Kiln —> tav belonging to @nightly-sereine). All of them are no older than 23, Kiln & Gale being the youngest.

see below cut for AU lore dumping

AU Background:

Marzio, Karlach, and Gortash are all high school drop outs. Marzio and Gortash have their GEDs, but not Karlach.

Marzio couldn't focus on graduating due to poorly treated urges. Karlach, I imagine, wasn't big for school. And Gortash had a horrible upbringing (Raphael as a foster parent). He dropped out and ran away/emancipated himself.

We figured that Bhaalspawn in this universe probably have some kind of medication to help regulate killing urges. Gortash would help get Marzio his outside of legal places to say the least. Karlach would act as a look out, which is how she got "sold". They got caught one run, and Karlach got arrested while Gortash got away.

Karlach is now out on parole. She's Kiln's roommate.

Marzio has custody of a still teenage Orin. Marzio, Orin, and Gortash all live with Father Lorgan, who sponsors Marzio's education.

Gale & Kiln are dating. Marzio & Gortash are dating.

Marzio is a Martial Arts major (with a minor in Herbal Medicine). Kiln is a 3D Art major (with a minor in Archery). Haven't decided Gortash's official major or minor yet, but it's probably political science & sociology. Though, he's definitely doing engineering/mechanics on the side. He's got a big, beat up, painted van full of all his projects.

Shenanigans ensue.

Oh, and Kiln has a dire samoyed named Cottage Cheese.

To be continued...

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

Meet the Townies: ᴇᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ

Ethan Harper grew up an only child and spent his formative years immersed in the world of engineering. His fascination with machines and technology was inspired by his father who was a skilled mechanic. While attending high school, Ethan secretly began working on a personal project where he attempted to design and build a robot. He poured countless hours into this endeavor, often sacrificing teenage milestones to tend to this robot he later named ISAAC (Intelligent System and Advanced Assistant Companion). Upon graduating High School, Ethan enrolled at Foxbury Institute where he pursued a degree in Mechanical Engineering. During his time there, Ethan excelled in his studies, consistently earning top marks and impressing his professors with his innovative ideas and dedication to the craft. In his free time, he continued to work on ISAAC since the university's state-of-the-art facilities and access to cutting-edge resourced allowed him to make significant improvements. He refined ISAAC's design, enhanced its capabilities and incorporated the latest advancements in artificial intelligence and robotics. After graduating with honors from Foxbury, Ethan quickly began carving out a professional life for himself. His reputation as a brilliant young engineer opened many doors and he received numerous job offers from leading tech companies. Ethan's expertise eventually caught the attention of the military who offered him a position to develop a project for them. Though he initially hesitated, the opportunity was too enticing to pass up. Despite his professional success and the accolades he received for his work, Ethan felt an intense void in his life that he couldn't seem to fill. His relentless pursuit of perfection in his projects, particularly with ISAAC, often left him feeling isolated. The extensive time he spent in the lab, both during his time at Foxbury and throughout his career, meant that his personal life took a backseat. Ethan's social interactions were limited and he found it difficult to connect with others on a deeper level. His closest colleagues, at one point, noticed and gently encouraged him to step out of his comfort zone and try dating. Ethan reluctantly agreed and while the dates he went on did not lead to a lasting relationship, it helped Ethan open up and see the value in balancing his personal and professional life. As he continued to make strides in his professional career, Ethan was approached by his alma mater, Foxbury institute, with an invitation to teach part-time. The university recognized his achievements and believed that his expertise could inspire and educate the next generation of engineers. Teaching at Foxbury became a profoundly rewarding experience for him. Standing before eager students, he shared his knowledge and passion. He found joy in helping them navigate their own paths and would often encourage them to think creatively and push the boundaries of what was possible. Meanwhile, ISAAC continued to improve every day, becoming an indispensable part of Ethan's life. By this point, ISAAC's capabilities extended far beyond what Ethan originally intended. ISAAC excelled in research assistance, laboratory management, and technical maintenance. The robot could analyze complex data, run simulations and suggest innovative solutions to engineering problems which significantly sped up Ethan's workflow. ISAAC also managed clerical tasks such as organizing files, scheduling meetings, and maintaining equipment, allowing Ethan to focus on more critical aspects of his projects. ISAAC'S home automation features made Ethan's personal life a breeze, as well. The robot could control various smart devices, perform household chores, such as cleaning and grocery shopping, and even cook meals based on Ethan's dietary preferences. Recently, Ethan and ISAAC relocated to the town of Oasis Springs due to a job offer at a cutting-edge research lab.

[visforvictini13]

Name: Karl Heisenberg

Trainer Card Number: 766

Gender: Male

Series of Origin: Resident Evil

Type Specialty: Steel / Fairy

Tinkaton, Revavroom, Klinklang & Metagross: References to his background as an engineer, the factory, his hammer, his monster form that looks like a giant mechanical spider, his goal of bringing corpses back as cyborgs, he really was meant to be a steel specialist

Hydreigon: His family is of Germanic descent, being the only one who's not a latin based language.

Tapu Bulu: House Heisenberg was represented by a horseshoe, which reminds me of how Tapu Bulu gets High Horsepower. If you remember I gave Lady Dimitrescu Tapu Lele, meaning that this trend continues with the others

Also, welcome to 2025, and, man, this started as a passion project when I was in high school and now here I am, in my mid 20s trying to start a life, it's really something.

[magntx]

Magneto and Science ↪      Part 1

the subtle hum of iron in blood, steel bending at his fingertips, the pull of Earth's core beneath his feet, wires and circuits speak, magnetic flux arcing between his hands, reading Einstein's equations, the muted thrum of power grids in distant cities, the metallic taste in the air before a storm, the distant buzz of high-voltage lines, the scent of ozone, strewn blueprint, the infinite spiral of energy, late night lights, monogrammed notes, wrapped books, late night discussions

↪     𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Magneto has many unfinished manuscripts and half-completed papers

⠀ ⠀𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: Electro and other types of magnetism, geophysics, interaction of magnetic frequencies with forces (plasma), theories on atoms / quantums / magnetism, mutant powers, ferromagnetism, fluid magnetism, metamagnetism, renewable energies, mechanics and engineering, Quantum-mechanical origin of magnetism, material science, space-centered development, the solarsystem, magnetars, earth's core and nature's magnetism, spacecraft propulsion based on manipulating planetary magnetic forces, Superconductivity Mechanisms, magnetic fibers (his suits)

⠀ ⠀𝙌𝙪𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙢 𝙈𝙖𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙨: Ambitious, albeit speculative, the interaction between quantum states and large-scale magnetic fields in plasmas. These theories suggest controlling the behavior of stars and cosmic bodies with magnetism—a kind of stellar engineering. Though untested, some astrophysicists have unknowingly referenced his work under pseudonyms in papers on solar magnetic field anomalies.

The science of Magneto and Gambit interacting creating a Magnetar or Black Hole -- not even Sinister mixes that.

His published works carry pseudonyms.

⠀ ⠀After his time on Asteroid M, various blueprints surfaced on inventions. Various particle colliders and electron molecule systems have been adjusted to the newly recognised modells.

⠀ ⠀His works push the boundaries of conventional scientific thought. Also quoting 'my powers' is ... debatable. (searching for proof of magnetic monopoles. reconcile the monopole with standard model inconsistencies, leaving behind cryptic hints for any physicist lucky (or unlucky) enough to find them.)

⠀ ⠀𝐓𝐇𝐄 "𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓": Electromagnetic Biophysics. A term coined to describe the phenomenon of magnetic fields influencing biological systems. It is oftentimes also used otherwise in sociopolitic studies.

He has funded numerous scientific research projects, often under pseudonyms. He is but a benevolent supporter ... (He gets along with Doc Ock and Bruce Banner occasionally)

⠀ ⠀Genosha utilised a large portion of his blueprints on renewable energies. The entire city layout was revolutionised for the purpose and therefore an almost "Solarpunk" city.

In later years, scientists call upon him for cross-referencing work and data in molecular and frequency studies. Also, sometimes he is also good for checking if a supercollider has a hole...

⠀ ⠀He does not like nanotech as it is more difficult to grasp.

⠀ ⠀Imagine some human scientist not realising they are basing all their work off of Magneto, the scary mutant terrorist. You try to avoid his study but you keep finding the name.

Scientific Magazines with his name and interviews

Young Mutants in school writing papers on him, or reports and they write him letters and he replies to their questions.

⠀ ⠀"We need to call him" - "We are NOT calling Magneto"

Some geophysicists unknowingly reference his work, citing unexplained phenomena in magnetic field fluctuations that were actually on him.

⠀ ⠀Sometimes you have to part the person (a mutant terrorist and villain) from its work -- or something.

[sparkarrestor]

Bulleid's Proposed Locomotives

So it turns out Bulleid had so many of his designs dropped for one reason or another, and since I can't stick with a single project for more than a few seconds, I wrote up histories for all of them!

Enjoy the ramblings of a madman who spent a good long while finding free number slots for them.

Southern Railway Warship Class

The Southern Railway was the most financially successful of the "Big Four", but this was largely based on investment in suburban and main line electrification. After the successful introduction of the SR Schools class in 1930, the railway had lagged behind the others in terms of modernizing its aging fleet of steam locomotives, as they were more focused on Electrification. Following the retirement of the general manager of the Southern Railway Sir Herbert Walker and Richard Maunsell the Chief Mechanical Engineer (CME) in 1937, their successors considered that the time had come to change this situation. In March 1938 the new general manager Gilbert Szlumper authorized Oliver Bulleid, Maunsell's replacement, to prepare designs for twenty express passenger locomotives. The deteriorating international situation prior to the Second World War was an additional factor in this decision.

Originally, Bulleid had wanted a 4-8-2 Mountain Type, but the Civil Engineering department had resisted this based on size and weight, so a 2-8-2 was chosen instead. Bulleid had worked with Gresley on his P2 2-8-2 express engines, so he already had some background knowledge, especially with the P2’s problems and ideas on how to solve them. Of course, due to the war, they were classified as heavy mixed-traffic engines to get around wartime regulations.

They were built with high-pressure 280 PSI boilers and three 18inx26in cylinders, as well as being the first engines to use Bulleid’s chain-driven valve gear, though the middle cylinder had to be inclined steeply to clear the first driven axle. The boiler was partly welded to save on cost, and the inner firebox was made of steel. The Southern had no facilities to build these boilers, so it was subcontracted to the North British Locomotive Co., as well as Beyer Peacock. They were also fitted with Bulleid’s Air-Smooth Casing. Unlike later designs that utilized this, the casing on the Warships both served their function purpose as labor saving as well as being able to be passed off as some sort of streamlining. How Bulleid got that one through during the war is a mystery! The Warship’s were also the first to use Bulleid’s Firth-Brown Wheels.

10 of these engines were constructed in 1940. More were set to be produced, but once again, the Civil Engineering Department expressed their discomfort at such a large engine running at high speeds with only a single pony-truck in front, despite other engines of a similar design getting on fine elsewhere. This would lead Bulleid to designing and building 30 of his well-known Merchant Navy Class 4-6-2s. 

They were named after Warships as a way to increase morale, with 11D1 being officially named “Dreadnought” in April 1940. They performed well in service, hauling heavy passenger and express goods, though the Chain-Driven valve gear was sensitive and required high maintenance, as well as the oil-bath having leaking problems, contributing to wheel-slips(Though the extra wheel helped negate this as well). The casing, while it did save on labor during cleaning, and the more streamlined appearance helped with publicity, it made maintenance hard to carry out. Surprisingly, thanks to their different front ends, they never really experienced drifting smoke like Bulleid’s Pacifics.

All 10 of the engines would be passed into British Railways, numbered 37001-37010, where their duties mostly stayed the same. 11D8 “Black Charles'' took part in the 1948 locomotive exchange trials, where it was compared to LMS Duchess pacifics and LNER A4’s and A2/2s, where it performed favorably, though the chain driven valve gear and its oil bath still caused headaches. After the Crewkerne incident, BR chose a rebuilding program of any engines that still used Bulleid’s Chain Driven motion, however, as the Warships had required far less modifications that the Pacifics, they were on the bottom of the list in the rebuilding program. In the end, only 37003 “Triumph”, 37009 “Warspite”, and 37010 “Exeter” were rebuilt in 1956, 1957, and 1959.

Despite their status as a class with very few engines, all ten would survive until the end of southern steam, going between 1965-1966.

Two are preserved, both being rescued from Barry Scrapyard in Wales. These examples are Class Pioneer 11D1 “Dreadnought”, as well as 11D3 “Triumph”.

Stats

Power Classification - 8MT

Built - 1940 to 1941

Boiler Pressure - 280 PSI

Cylinders (3) - 18in x 26in

Wheels (Driven) - 6ft 2in

Wheels (Leading) - 3ft 1in

Wheels (Trailing) - 3ft 7in

Wheels (Tender) 3ft 7in

Tractive Effort - 40,640 lbf

Total Length - 74ft 8in

Fleet

11D1 (37001) - Dreadnought

11D2 (37002) - Anson

11D3 (37003) - Triumph

11D4 (37004) - Vanguard

11D5 (37005) - Ark Royal

11D6 (37006) - Audacity 

11D7 (37007) - Valiant

11D8 (37008) - Black Charles

11D9 (37009) - Warspite

11D10 (37010) - Exeter

Southern Railway Prototype Light Pacific

(Pic by Sttophat on twitter)

     In 1941, Bulleid had introduced his Warship Mikado's and Merchant Navy Pacific's to become the main motive power for the Southern Railway’s Express passenger trains, though while they performed well, they were restricted by their weight, especially since the condition of the rails were hampered by the Second World War. Initially, trains on the lighter sections were handled by the Q1 0-6-0 freight engines and other, older engines, but they couldn’t handle the faster trains that were anticipated after the war. There was also the planned electrification of certain areas after the war, so the new design also needed to handle freight traffic as well, fast enough to not impede electric services.

     What was decided on in the end was a downsized version of the Merchant Navy’s, fitted with the same design theory of the Q1’s to create a “Light Pacific”. The Locomotive was completed in 1942 alongside the Q1’s, and was trialed for a short time before entering service. It was deemed a success, and numbered 21C201. It was powerful enough to handle fast, heavy trains, as well as having an extremely light axle loading for a pacific at 16.5 Tons, enabling it to be used on almost every part of the UK Network as a whole. However, Bulleid decided to go with a different approach, creating simply a downsized Merchant Navy with no Q1 elements. This would increase the axle load, though this wasn’t much of an issue, as the Battle of Britain and West Country Class Light Pacifics still had a high enough route availability for the work they were assigned. Thus, the “Q1 Light Pacific'' would remain a one-off.

     During the war, No.21C201 would actually travel a fair amount, and would regularly venture out of Southern territory, its light axle-load coming in handy. After the war however, it would mostly stay in the South. Performance-wise, it seemed to inherit all of the good qualities from the Q1’s and the pacific’s. The light-weight was already a plus, coupled with a great, free-steaming boiler and additions that made the driver and fireman’s life easier. However, it also inherited the bad aspects as well. The chain-driven valve gear was a well-known headache on bulleid locomotives, but there was also the issue that its light-weight caused. The regular Light Pacifics had trouble starting heavy trains thanks to their weight, but No.21C201 had it worse, especially with the well-known issues with the oil bath the valve gear was situated in. The light weight would also affect braking power as well, making unfitted trains harder to stop, a trait inherited from the Q1’s.

     No.21C201 (Now Renumbered 34000) was not considered for rebuilding like the other Bulleid Pacifics due to its one-off status. It would be given a general repair in 1960 before spending the rest of its life at Nine-Elms, mainly working express and semi-fast goods trains and the occasional passenger turn during peak period and summer excursions. It was withdrawn from service in 1966 and broken up at Eastleigh. 

Stats

Power Classification - 6MT

Built - 1942

Wheels (Driven) - 6ft 2in

Wheels (Leading) 3ft 1in

Wheels (Trailing) - 3ft 7in

Wheels (Tender) - 3ft 7in

Boiler Pressure - 250 psi

Cylinders (3) - 16.5in x 24in

Tractive Effort - 28,145lbf

Total Built - 1

Southern Railway L1 Class

Bulleid designed these locomotives during the Second World War, but construction didn’t begin until 1946. They shared many components with Bulleid’s Q1 0-6-0 goods engines, and were essentially the Q1’s with an Air-Smoothed Casing and a bigger boiler (though the firebox was identical with that of a Q1’s).

Twelve of these engines would be constructed between 1946 and 1948, with the final 3 being built by British Railways. They were originally numbered 22C1 to 22C12, though they were renumbered in 1949 to 36101 to 36112. They were originally meant for short distance goods and passenger services, though they never really found their footing in this role. The passenger trains that usually necessitated big tank engines were already being handled by electric engines, and everything else usually required smaller and lighter engines, which meant that, despite inheriting the power and efficiency of the Q1, the added weight and size meant that they were barred from where they could be most effective. The goods work they were meant for were also in the care of both Q1’s and Maunsell’s Q Class, as well as the many N class moguls already in service. In the end they spent their time hopping from shed-to-shed before settling on ex-LSWR territory, and even venturing into Western Region territory.

They were withdrawn between 1962-1964. Only one survives, 22C9 (36109) on the Bluebell Railway.

Stats

Power Classification - 5F 4P

Built - 1946 to 1948

Boiler Pressure - 230 PSI

Cylinders (2) - 19in x 26in

Wheels (Driven) - 5ft 1in

Wheels (Bogies) - 3ft 1in

Tractive Effort - 30,080 lbf

Southern Railway Dock Class

After the Second World War, many of the Southern Railway’s shunters (mainly those at Southampton) inherited from pre-grouping companies were worn out and needed overhauling. As such, Bulleid opted to replace them outright with his own design of 0-6-0T, with a short wheelbase of 10 feet to enable it to negotiate the tight curves. Like many of Bulleid’s designs, he equipped it with a relatively high boiler pressure.

Six would enter service in 1946, and while a total of 18 were planned, this would never come to be, as Eastleigh works was not in a position to build new locomotives with the backlog from the war. In the end, the southern found it cheaper to purchase ex-USATC S100 dock shunters, as they fulfilled most of the requirements needed.

They were numbered C201 to C206, and were renumbered to 30071 to 30076 in British Railways days. The first, 30071, was built with the Idaglass boiler lagging and casing as used in the Q1 class, while the other 5 were built with conventional boiler lagging and tanks. 30071 would be rebuilt like the others in 1953.

The class would lead uninteresting lives as dock shunters in Southampton and Dover until their withdrawal between 1961-1962. One was initially purchased for preservation but the deal fell through. None are preserved.

Stats

Power Classification - 3F

Built - 1946

Boiler Pressure - 220 PSI

Cylinders (2) - 16in x 24in

Wheels (Driven) - 4ft 6in

Tractive Effort - 21,276 lbf

[avatarskywalker78]

OC Re-introduction - Sheridan Ó Séaghdha

Ever since she was a young girl, Sheridan was interested in two things - flying and space, and ideally something that combined the two, and was often found with her head in a book or watching a documentary. She was still a fairly social person - upbeat, friendly, willing to listen to people, but she had her heart set on becoming not just a pilot but an astronaut to boot, and so she worked hard to get the grades needed, passing high school with flying colours and landing a scholarship at Harvard University, where she chose to study advanced physics and mathematics.

It was here she first met John Tracy and the two of them soon hit it off, bonding over their shared love of astronomy and quickly becoming firm friends. It's a friendship confusing to some people because they're very different personality wise, but beneath the surface it's clear this is a meaningful relationship, and Sheridan considers her life brighter having him in it. They even shared an apartment during Sheridan's second year before John graduated, and it wasn't long before she got to know his brothers too, becoming close to Gordon in particular due to their shared chaotic streak (and the only thing more concerning than them actively plotting is when they're both quiet).

After her own graduation and training, she joined Mercury Aerospace because they're one of the few companies who actually take safety seriously in the 2060s, and even though the work can be dangerous she also knows everything is done behind the scenes to make sure it isn't life-threatening when it doesn't have to be. It was here she first met Tia Everton, a freelance mechanical engineer, when she helped developed one of their test crafts, and the two have been friends ever since.

These are the fundamentals. How it plays out?

Well, that depends on the universe you're in ↓

The Original Series

Mercury Aerospace has been developing the Starfinder Programme for years and Sheridan's been testing out it's first craft, Starfinder One - the aim to not only venture into commercial spaceflight but to get people interested in STEM, and the ship's central part has a fully operational (and modified) observation dome where people can get a proper look at the stars without being hampered by pollution. So far all the test flights have been successful and she's looking forward to being one of the co-pilots on it's maiden flight.

The last few years haven't exactly been easy, though - first she almost lost one of her best friends to a horrific hydrofoil accident, then the exploits of International Rescue highlighted the massive safety gaps a lot of companies have (something that never fails to infuriate her) alongside people's general stupidity, and even she's had several near-misses over the course of her career. John's also become increasingly anxious over her job, much as he tries to be outwardly supportive, and she doesn't get as much time to talk it out with him as she'd like, especially since he seems to have his own project going on he won't tell her about. Despite this, he's pleased for her when he finds out about Starfinder One, and Sheridan's certain it'll go well and propel her onto a career in spaceflight, the thing she's always wanted. And the flight itself does go fine - an hour and a half in orbit and everything runs smoothly...

But on re-entry disaster strikes when two of the main engines explode and the back-up engines start slowly losing power, sending the ship plummeting towards Earth and threatening the lives of the crew and the thirty-five passengers on board. Unable to reach ground control she tries another frequency to call International Rescue - and gets the shock of her life when John Tracy is the one who answers, compounded when Thunderbird One re-establishes communications and Thunderbird Two arrives to do an on-board repair as she realises the Tracys are International Rescue, and that this is why they're so well-adjusted despite spending most of their time on a remote island (sure, she figured they must be doing something, but she didn't predict this).

The day is saved, of course, but Sheridan certainly has a lot of questions for her friend afterwards once she's signed the NDAs - and a lot more worry, now she knows almost all her friends face dangerous situations on the regular.

Thunderbirds Are Go

With Mercury Aerospace having been in the space flight business for over ten years, Sheridan got the chance to test spacecraft a lot sooner, and her time is split between Earth and space in the process, and has also been an active crewmember on several space missions because of her skillset. She's even been on a couple of deep-space missions, which she's pretty proud of - yet she always loves coming back down to Earth, likes to feel the ground beneath her feet and see her friends again, even if only for a few days at a time between her job at Mercury and their jobs at International Rescue.

Though it's been years since the secret was officially revealed, Sheridan worked it out pretty early on after suspicious absences on John's part that just happened to correlate with some disaster happening and International Rescue being called out, cluing her in to the fact that their eye in the sky couldn't be anyone else - and therefore the pilots had to be his brothers. She never admitted this and once it was officially announced didn't see any need to let on, but of course she knew, and she's been worried ever since - they all went through so much before joining the organisation and she's terrified of losing one of them on a rescue, especially given the amount of close calls they've had recently.

Of course, her career path isn't exactly a safe one. The Starfinder programme was targeted when it was in development, and five years ago the exploration craft Starfinder One was sabotaged on it's re-entry into the atmosphere and it was only the combined efforts of the pilots and the engineering crew that they were able to get it down safely, (though International Rescue was on standby in case assistance was needed). The group responsible were caught alarmingly quickly by the GDF and given lengthy sentences - she knows perfectly well who helped bring them down - and since then the programme has gone from strength to strength, but it served as a reminder that it's not just safety issues that can be a danger. Currently, Sheridan's on Starfinder Four, six months into a mission exploring part of the outer solar system using a proton engine and an experimental power core and so far it's been successful.

Then the unpredictability of space strikes - an unexpected meteor shower knocks out most of the system and causes two sections of the ship to decompress. Sheridan manages to call International Rescue (Gordon the one to answer), but the comm systems on the ropes and she and another crewmember are gonna have to race to stabilise the core otherwise there won't be anyone to rescue because the resulting explosion will vaporise the ship and everyone on it. She doesn't doubt that they'll get there in time...

This might just be the closest call yet.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @janetm74 @call-me-casual @lenle-g