#DI Pipe Fittings

[metaconsteels]

Looking for durable and high-quality industrial components? Metacon Steels, a trusted Indian manufacturer, specializes in stainless steel, stainless steel castings, pipe fittings, DI pipe fittings, and manganese steel liners. Serving industries like fire safety, oil & gas, automotive, and agriculture equipment, we deliver precision-engineered solutions designed to meet North America’s rigorous standards.With advanced manufacturing, strict quality control, and on-time delivery, Metacon Steels is your go-to partner for reliable and cost-effective components. Contact us today to learn how we can support your business!

[sporadiccandyinternet]

The precision and reliability of our Dismantling Joints! Designed for easy maintenance and seamless performance, Truform's joints ensure your pipeline system runs smoothly.

[brionysea]

here's another example of mike breaking the pattern by being the first one to do it

bonus foreshadowing:

[shivamengitech]

Unveiling the Top Plastic Injection Moulding Manufacturer: A Comprehensive Guide

In the bustling industrial landscape of Ahmedabad, one name stands out as a beacon of excellence in plastic injection moulding: Shivam Engitech. Renowned for its commitment to quality, precision, and innovation,

Shivam Engitech has carved a niche for itself as the leading provider of UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, and a range of injection molding equipment. Let’s delve into what makes Shivam Engitech the undisputed champion in the realm of plastic injection moulding.

Legacy of Excellence: Founded with a vision to revolutionize the plastic manufacturing industry, Shivam Engitech boasts a rich legacy of excellence spanning several decades. With a steadfast focus on delivering superior products and unmatched customer service, the company has earned the trust and loyalty of clients across various industries.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure: At the heart of Shivam Engitech’s success lies its state-of-the-art infrastructure equipped with cutting-edge technology and advanced machinery. From precision CNC machining centers to high-speed injection moulding machines, every aspect of the manufacturing process is meticulously optimized to ensure unparalleled efficiency and quality.

Comprehensive Product Range: Shivam Engitech caters to diverse industry needs with its comprehensive range of products, including UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, and a wide array of injection molding equipment. Whether it’s custom molds for specialized applications or standard components for mass production, the company offers solutions tailored to meet every requirement.

Innovative Solutions: In an ever-evolving industry, innovation is key to staying ahead of the curve. Shivam Engitech prides itself on its ability to innovate continuously, leveraging the latest technological advancements to develop groundbreaking solutions that enhance efficiency, precision, and sustainability in plastic manufacturing processes.

Stringent Quality Control: Quality is non-negotiable at Shivam Engitech. The company adheres to rigorous quality control measures at every stage of the manufacturing process, ensuring that each product meets the highest standards of durability, reliability, and performance. From raw material sourcing to final inspection, every aspect is meticulously monitored to uphold the company’s reputation for excellence.

Customer-Centric Approach: At Shivam Engitech, customer satisfaction is paramount. The company takes a proactive approach to understand the unique requirements of each client and strives to exceed their expectations with tailor-made solutions, prompt delivery, and responsive after-sales support. Building long-lasting partnerships based on trust and mutual success is at the core of Shivam Engitech’s ethos.

Global Presence: While rooted in Ahmedabad, Shivam Engitech has a global footprint, serving clients across the globe with its top-notch products and services. Through strategic partnerships and alliances, the company has expanded its reach to international markets, solidifying its position as a trusted name in the global plastic manufacturing industry.

Commitment to Sustainability: Recognizing the importance of environmental sustainability, Shivam Engitech is committed to minimizing its ecological footprint through responsible manufacturing practices, energy-efficient processes, and recyclable materials. By embracing sustainable solutions, the company not only reduces its environmental impact but also helps clients achieve their sustainability goals.

In conclusion,

Shivam Engitech stands tall as the epitome of excellence in the realm of plastic injection moulding. With its unwavering commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction, the company continues to set new benchmarks for the industry. Whether you’re in need of UPVC pipe fitting moulds, plastic bucket moulding dies, or injection molding equipment, Shivam Engitech is your trusted partner for all your plastic manufacturing needs.

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

���Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[ri-afan]

*video starts and the mood is somber. There’s a black-haired guy sitting at a desk facing the camera with his hands folded together on the desk and his eyes trained in the lens*

“Hello. If this video has reached you, then that can only mean one thing: I have died.”

*there’s a tense moment of silence before someone snorts offscreen, then everyone’s laughing*

“God, Danny, what the hell??” A tired feminine voice exclaims.

A male voice pipes up offscreen. “Come on, Jazz, that was hilarious!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have let him write the script!” A purple stuffed animal flies quickly into the shot where the first guy is laughing with his head on the desk and it bounces off his head and out of the shot again.

“Aw, but that wouldn’t be fair, Sam, would it? It’s my reveal video.”

“How many puns did you fit in it?” The second voice asks, sounding distinctly gleeful.

“At least twelve, depending on how you count puns that can go both ways,” the guy on screen says as he wiggles an eyebrow to the camera lens, which sets off the second guy’s laughter again.

There’s a couple sighs heard and the first gal’s voice is heard closer as the camera moves. In the background you can hear the guy laughing on the floor about a blooper reel before complaining about steel toed boots. “Okay, we’ll try this again, little brother. Next time don’t—” the video cuts out

[polarfarina]

My dentist appt from February 28 getting rescheduled four times into may. Yeah. Okay alright

[demigod-shenanigans]

Jason thinks love needs to be earned. The only love in tiny Jason’s world that ever came without strings was Thalia’s, but he was so young when they got separated that he barely remembers her. His mom abandoned him but surely she had her reasons. Maybe he just wasn’t a good enough son.

So he tries to be a good strong wolf and then a good little soldier, for Lupa’s approval and Camp Jupiter’s approval and because maybe if he earns enough points on the achievement scoreboard his dad will come see him. Maybe his dad will love him. If he hasn’t yet, it’s just because Jason hasn’t tried hard enough.

And his friendship with Reyna feeds into this mindset. It’s not anything Reyna says or does. But Reyna is guarded—understandably so, considering she’s extremely traumatized and lived the first ten years of her life knowing love mostly as a thing that could blow up in your face at any given moment. Of course she’s slow to trust and even slower to love.

It takes time for her to let herself love Jason.

And she doesn’t love him because of some achievement scoreboard, or because he’s a good soldier, but Jason doesn’t know that. Jason just sees that Reyna is his friend now, so apparently he’s gotten a good grade in being a friend through his achievements. His dad may not love him yet, but Reyna loves him, so clearly it’s possible to earn love and the world works exactly how he always assumed it did.

And then he meets Leo and Piper. Leo and Piper who love each other without terms and conditions. Who get in trouble together and make fun of each other and would die for each other in a heartbeat. There were no grand gestures or heroic achievements that caused that love to happen. It just did. They just looked at each other and knew they were meant to be friends.

And they love Jason, too. Even after they realize their memories of him aren’t real, they stick with him. Even when he keeps messing up, which in his world should get friendship points docked and make their love go away, they keep loving him anyway.

Jason sees Leo make his little pipe cleaner helicopter and immediately asks if they’re actually friends, because he may not even remember who he is, but surely he hasn’t done enough to earn the friendship of someone that cool. In MoA he talks to Piper about how he keeps being knocked out and having to be saved and how that makes him a terrible hero. He tells her he doesn’t deserve her when she tries to reassure him.

But Leo and Piper keep loving him anyway. They met the version of Jason that’s a mess before they ever met the Jason that’s capable and heroic and they still love him. Leo loves Jason so much he dies to keep him safe.

Leo loves the Jason that laughs at his stupid jokes and plays video games with him and gets stupid competitive about it. He loves the Jason that’s a nerd about Ancient Rome and the Jason who is kind and the Jason who’s unsure what the future holds and what he wants it to look like. He loves the Jason who’s a bit childish and cannot cook to save his life and has a terrible taste in movies.

When Piper is trying to comfort Jason when he almost dies, she doesn’t talk about his heroics. She talks about Jason when he was happy, with a goofy grin on his face and marshmallows stuck in his hair.

All his life Jason thought there was a certain version of himself he had to be in order to earn love. A mold he had to somehow fit himself into, no matter how uncomfortably it fit. And here Leo and Piper are, loving him even when he’s not exactly the fearless hero leader everyone’s expected him to be all his life. Even when he doesn’t know who he wants to be, or what he wants to do with his life. Even when he tells them that maybe he hates being a leader.

And Jason wonders if that’s what love is supposed to be. If he’s been doing it wrong his entire life. If maybe Reyna could have loved that version of him, too, if he’d let her see it.

But he’s so afraid of the answer to that question—so afraid that the girl he considers his platonic soulmate won’t like who he is now—that he never lets himself find out.

[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1180

Chapter 29:

Your mind transported you back to a haunting memory, a memory that you would do anything to truly forget.

You were younger back then, in terms of general age but not physical. You had, after all, stopped showing your true age on your face centuries ago; having settled to project only one age.

Back then, you were innocent... until you weren't.

You could still remember that night, all too well.

A wooden shack in the woods, now laying destroyed and barely having any part of it standing. Beneath its collapsed metal and wooden beams and pipes, bodies of men laid. All of them died before the heavy objects fell on them, and if one of them had survived, they would make sure to finish the job.

In the middle of this destruction was you, sweating and panting heavily. Your body shook from shock and exhaustion, your clothes wet, torn and sticking to your skin; blood visible on new wounds from places items had passed through the clothes.

Your hair stuck to your face, the sweat rolling slowly to the side of your temple. You did not even look up, feeling the fait light of the new moon casting its supernatural glow on you; as if you were all that mattered to it and nothing else.

Suddenly, you sensed a new presence forming; coming from your very own shadow.

By instinct alone, you turned to face them; white magic glowing in response, ready to defend you until the end.

Your bright white eyes locked in dark ones, and you found yourself facing another woman... no... another witch.

She kept her distance from you, eyeing the bodies carefully.

"Not a bad job," she said, her face visible while most of her body was covered by a dark green cloak.

You frowned, trying to understand where she fit into all of this. You had not heard her approaching nor had sensed her until the last moment. You knew she was a witch. You could sense your magic reacting; a first for you.

Back then, had you not been tortured for days on end. Had you not been sleep deprived and starved, you would have thought of those questions better and realized there was a very obvious answer to all of them.

But at the moment, you ran on adrenaline; threatening to collapse once it would all pass.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" You demanded to know.

"I was close by," she replied, intentionally skipping to tell you her name or anything else about her. "I thought I should join the party, but I guess I was too late." she shrugged her shoulders, unfazed by the murders she had just witnessed.

"There was no party," you argued and finally let your gaze settle on the bodies around you. "They are dead... they should have stopped... but they didn't"

Your voice trailed off, and yet your emotions seemed to have been switched off. All you could feel was still your blood in your mouth and the feeling of power running through your veins.

Any remorse or empathy had disappeared, and you stared at them with darkness lurking behind your white eyes.

You had warned them, begged them to stop. You had repeated so many times you knew nothing of a coven close by; a lie.

You knew of it. You had visited it, and you were not going to give it away to those cruel sadistic men. They caught you during a full moon, and you had tried to resist, to logic with them, but they were persistent.

Either they liked to torture you or knew you were lying... but they didn't stop.

The days passed, and the moon changed phases, along with your control. Your emotions started to fade, the torture and wounds fueling you in a familiar but also fearful way.

Your pleas and words became warnings and threats. They didn't listen, and when you finally had enough, when the sea stopped being gentle; you stopped holding back.

The result lay all around you, and yet somehow, you felt unsettled at the feeling. You had never taken a human life before or any life for that matter.

Do no harm

That was your mojo, your chosen path. You had strained away from the temptiness that came when the moon shifted phases... until now, when you had no choice.

"Timor mortis morte pejor." This mysterious woman said, snapping you from your trailing thoughts. "The fear of death is worse than death"

Her words finally drew your full attention on her. Your head tilted faintly to the side, and your eyebrows frowned, small creases forming on the space between them.

You were clearly confused by her words, feeling slightly out of topic and yet not so much. But her words had also surprised you and the fact that she chose to quote something in Latin.

Honestly, it had been too long since you heard someone use the ancient language outside of a spell that was.

Your expression seemed to amuse the woman, who unbeknown to you, had been watching you for a long time; waiting for the perfect moment to interfere and approach you.

Now that she had it, she could not help but smirk. "How about we get you somewhere better? Get you all cleaned up? Maybe get something to eat?" She asked, her suggestion as tempting as free candy to an unsuspected child.

You hesitated and glanced down at the bodies. "What about them?" You asked.

To your surprise, the woman waved her hand dismissively. "They will be fine. Its not like they can go anywhere. " she chuckled with her own joke, a humour you could not relate at that moment. Then, she extended her hand towards you. "Come with me,"

You took slow steps towards her, partially hesitating. Could you so blindly and openly trust a witch that you just met? Especially in your state?

You thought of declining her offer, just walking the opposite way, but your body needed rest and food. Your magic was not enough to hold you, and sooner or later, you would collapse. You knew that with certainty.

The mysterious woman waited patiently with her hand outstretched, waiting and studying you.

In the end, you dared to place your bloody hand in hers and you gasped as you felt her magic react with yours in a sudden way that caused faint sparks of pain to be caused for both of you.

You held the need to withdraw your hand, and she didn't seem to be affected by the momentarily shot of quick acute pain. Instead, she seemed enthralled by it.

Your magic was reacting to hers, and she knew why. She had suspected such reaction, and now she wished to explore it more.

On the other hand, you did not know why this happened. Back then, she was nothing but a kind stranger who helped, nurtured, and even guided you.

Back then, you didn't know you were trusting the personification of death itself... back then, you did not know what you were getting into.

Chapter 30

[cellgatinbo]

richas was confused bc when pac came back from the big date he just said it was “good” and richas thought it kinda ended there, and pac had to say that he couldn’t exactly say anything else bc fit told him some secret gossip that he promised to keep to himself. bagi piped in that he couldn’t tell him since he’s still a child, and pac agreed, until he turned to her MORTIFIED just “NO NO GOD NOT LIKE THAT-“ while she DIED laughing

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Four

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: If Meg was more of a religious person, she would have sworn she felt Jeb’s strength helping them pull Tyler to safety at just the right moment.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

It had been a good night until everything went to shit. Tyler had been trying to get Kate to open up and she had turned the tables on him, getting Tyler to spill the details of his first tornado. Meg had felt a second of uneasiness when Tyler had asked Kate about her first tornado, something that he had said he only asked pretty girls, but the second the wheels in her head started spinning, Tyler’s hand had fallen on her thigh. Even with his attention on Kate, Meg felt connected to him, butterflies in her stomach taking flight. 

Then the tornado decided to ruin the moment. Meg had a bone to pick with Mother Nature but first, she needed to survive. Tyler had a death grip on her hand and she was pulling Kate along, when they got to the motel lobby, she was livid.

“Nine times out of ten, it’s a false alarm,” The snobby girl in the chair announced like she knew everything. 

“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” She shouted, “Because there’s a tornado coming and we need to get underground. Now!” The siren stopped and while the woman felt vindicated, Meg’s stomach dropped, knowing that it only meant the storm was close. Too close. 

“Come on,” Kate shouted. 

“Follow her,” Tyler ordered, guiding the mom and daughter out of the door. “Run, Meg,” She hesitated, not wanting to leave his side. “Please, darlin’, run.” And she did, taking off, helping the mom and daughter across the road to the pool. She and Kate helped them into the pool, Meg pushed Kate down next, 

“Tyler!” She shouted, urging him to run faster, watching the winds take away the truck the couple from the lobby had climbed in.

“Get in the pool!” He shouted back, “Now, Meg!” Not wanting to lose sight of him but also not wanting to roll the dice against Mother Nature, Meg quickly descended the ladder. Kate was waiting for her, steadying her on her feet.

“Help the kid, Kate,” She pushed her friend towards the pipes. “Tyler!” Meg shouted for him again, getting a second of relief when he jumped down beside her.

“Stop worrying about me, darlin’, go,” He pushed her towards the pipes like she had to Kate. Meg rushed to the pipes, looping her arms around them and squatting as low as she could go beside Kate. She couldn’t breathe watching Tyler crawl across the bottom of the pool to get to the motel manager,

“Please come back, please come back.” Meg chanted, feeling Kate cry against her. “Please come back to me.” She screamed, seeing the horse trailer fly towards Tyler, leaning out as far as she could go without releasing her hold on the pipe, she screamed for Tyler to take her hand. Kate leaned out too, grabbing his wrist when Meg took his hand, the two girls pulled with all their might.

“You’re not going to lose him like I did,” Kate grunted and Meg wanted to cry. Jeb. If Meg was more of a religious person, she would have sworn she felt Jeb’s strength helping them pull Tyler to safety at just the right moment. Tyler wrapped his arms around them both, shielding them from the storm with his body but nothing could stop the sound of the tornado bearing down on them.

In Meg’s mind, she was back in the tornado from five years ago. She heard Parveen’s scream as he was swept away, she could see her friends ahead of her. And then her foot caught on something, sending her to the ground. There was no way that she could make it to the underpass, she knew it.

There was only one option and that was to dig her fingers into the dirt as far as they would go. The winds howled around her, screaming like a freight train. She could feel it as each of her fingers broke, her screams of pain lost in the wind as the tornado passed over her. Meg heard it when Addy and Jeb were swept away, and, and-

“Meg, Meggy, Margaret!” Kate’s shouting snapped her out of it, bringing her back to reality. Meg launched herself at her friend, hugging her tight.

“I love you, I love you, I love you so much and I’m never lettin’ your stubborn ass go.” Kate hugged her back just as tight.

“I love you too, Mud Bug. So much,” Kate pulled back, brushing the hair out of Meg’s blue eyes. “But I’m going to need you to hug Tyler right now. Man looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.” Tyler. She whirled around and there he was, standing with his arms loose at his sides, tears in his eyes.

“Ty,” Meg threw herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso like a koala bear.

“You’re okay,” He buried his face in her neck, one hand supporting her by her thigh, the other carding its way through her tangled hair. “You’re alive.”

“You scared me so bad,” She whispered, tears flowing freely. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, you understand me?” Meg pulled back with a fierce look in her eye, daring Tyler to rationalize the situation but he didn’t. He just pressed his forehead against hers, whispering in a raspy voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

They separated, climbing out of the pool. Lily and Ben met them at the top, doting over the trio like mother hens.

“No more rodeo for you, Doc,” Lily hugged her tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay, you too, Ben,” Meg hugged the reporter who didn’t hesitate to return the gesture. 

“Seems like you’re a Wrangler now, Mud Bug,” Kate whispered, kissing Meg’s temple. “I’m happy for you.” 

“I’m whatever you are, Katie my Lady, always.” 

“Traumatized?” She sassed with a humorless laugh,

“Yeah, that too.” Meg felt Tyler behind her, his hand coming to rest on her hip, the warmth of his skin bleeding through her soaking clothes. Javi started yelling for Kate and Meg but Meg didn’t move from the Wrangles. Dani ran at her through the debris to sweep her into an air-stealing hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Doc.” 

“Thought I was goin’ to die again,” Meg’s breath shuddered, mind slipping again. Her fingers and wrist were on fire, burning with a pain she knew was completely in her mind but she couldn’t shake it. Not until Dani let her go and she inspected them for herself. 

Meg flexed her fingers, they were all at an acceptable angle and the right color. Definitely not broken. Next, she checked her wrist, poking at it, looking for any sign of swelling or tenderness but there was none to be found. 

“That one enough to scare you, Oklahoma?” Tyler’s tease fell flat, he turned her around by the waist so that they were face to face. Tyler was scared, Meg could see it in his green eyes and the way his bottom lip trembled, and besides the memories of the EF-5 haunting her, she could honestly say she wasn’t.

“Not scared of the tornado, Arkansas.” Meg shook her head. “Terrified of dyin’ or losin’ someone I cared about?” She felt so incredibly small and weak, like a child as she shook from her cold clothes. “Maybe a little.” She suddenly realized who wasn’t by her side anymore and felt dread constrict her head, mind going fuzzy. “Where’s Kate?” Tyler’s face softened, he turned her by the hips again and when Kate came into view she relaxed.

“Kate’s fine, she’s talking to Javi over there, see?” She did see and it was almost enough to make her smile. That is until she heard what Javi was yelling.

“I don’t know what it’s like, Kate? How about my friends died because you were chasing grant money for your stupid science project?”

“What the fuck did he just say?” Tyler sounded as angry as Meg felt. Kate ran off towards the decimated motel, Javi calling after her. Meg let out what could only be described as a growl as she took off across the lot to confront an old friend, wanting to wring his neck with her bare hands.

“Javier Ernesto Rivera, what the hell did you just say to her?” Javi had the good sense to look ashamed and the even better sense to put his hands up in defense before Meg started swinging on him.

“I’m sorry, Meg! I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“I don’t care how you meant it, you bastard! How could you say that to her?” Tyler was at her back, Meg could feel his presence, but he seemed content letting her fight this battle on her own.

“It’s just, we never would have been in the field that day if it weren’t for Kate. There, I said it.” Meg saw red, red hot rage flowing through her.

“How fucking dare you put that on her!” She kicked his shin, “She wasn’t the only one pushing for that storm so if you’re calling her a murderer then call me one too.” 

Javi’s face fell and so did his hands, letting Meg get a good slap in.

“You didn’t hear Addy, Jeb, and Parveen scream for their lives. You didn’t get your leg sliced open by debris,” She shoved his chest with each sentence. “You didn’t break all ten of your fingers and your wrist holding on for your life with a Goddamn EF-5 trying to kill you.” She swung with a closed fist but Tyler was quick, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. “You lost your friends but you didn’t fucking watch them die. You have no right,” Meg suddenly hit a wall, losing all her steam. Her angry shouts turned into heart-wrenching sobs. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” She kept repeating the words.

“I’m sorry, Meg.” She barely heard Javi’s words over her own crying and didn’t bother to look up at him. Tyler caught her when her knees gave out, holding Meg tightly to his chest.

“How could he?” Meg sobbed, digging her fingers into his torn shirt. “T-Ty?” 

“I’m here, darlin’,” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here with you, what do you need?” 

“Get me outta here.” Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. He swept her into his arms, hustling through the debris until he got to the camper. Boone and Dexter had already begun setting up relief outside, shooting Meg worried glances that she responded to with watery smiles. 

“Let’s get you into something warm, Oklahoma.” He put her down on the small couch inside and she watched him dig through everyone’s bags before offering her a bundle of clothes. There wasn’t a bathroom in the camper so he turned his back while she quickly changed into what seemed to be his boxers, Dani’s sweats, and one of Boone’s flannels.

“You should change too, Ty, I’ll, um, cover my eyes.” Not long later, Tyler was sitting on the couch beside her, bringing her onto his lap in a hug. “I need to go after Kate.” Meg muttered into his shoulder, I don’t want her blamin’ herself.” 

“We’ll go first thing in the morning but darlin’, you need to sleep.” Meg wanted to argue but she knew he was right, exhaustion rolling over her as she had just pulled a 12-hour shift on the ambulance.

“I don’t wanna be alone right now, Ty.” Meg looked up at him, knowing her eyes were red and there was most definitely mud staining her cheeks, making her look like the creature from the lagoon, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care when Tyler was looking at her like she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. “Stay with me?” 

“For as long as you want me to,” Those words hung heavy in the air for a long minute before he cleared his throat. “We can sleep in the bed up top, come on.”

Tyler helped her up the ladder and waited for her to get settled in the mismatched mess of blankets and top sheets before joining. When Tyler climbed beneath the sheets, resting comfortably on his back, Meg curled into his side, resting her head on his chest. Neither of them said a word and Meg was glad, knowing if she said another word, she’d probably start crying again.

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86

Next Chapter

[sporadiccandyinternet]

A Ductile Iron Hydrant Tee is a crucial component used in water distribution and firefighting systems. Made from high-quality ductile iron, known for its superior strength, durability, and resistance to corrosion, this fitting ensures reliability in demanding environments. The Hydrant Tee is designed to connect fire hydrants to the main water supply line, enabling efficient water flow for fire suppression purposes.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Nighttime

Tommy Shelby X Fem!Reader WC: 1380 Content warnings: PTSD, drug use, alcohol use, mentions of war Summary: When your brother, Daniel "Danny Whizz-bang" Owens, comes back a broken man from WWI, Tommy Shelby is the only one who seems able to put him back together. And the more Tommy helps your brother, the more you realize he's helping you, too. Author's Note: First time writing for the incomparable Tommy Shelby and the PB boys! Thoughts on a part 2, anyone??

Nights like these made the dark parts of you wish that Daniel hadn’t come home from the War. Nights when he couldn’t remember your face, when he got so lost in the bottom of a bottle or the smoke of his pipe that even you couldn’t find him anymore. The brother Daniel was when he’d left in ‘14 hadn’t come home four years later. Most times, sunlight and a hard day’s work help him hide that fact well enough. Nighttimes were the hardest. Especially starless, rainy nights like this one. Something about the rain reminded Danny of the dark tunnels where his innocence had died. It’s always night in the tunnels, he told you. The sounds of his pathetic whimpering from the room next door fractured the ice you’d been forced to pack around your heart to keep life together. 

Yet, nights like these were the only times you saw Thomas Shelby. So, in some ways, nights like these made the darker parts of you grateful that Daniel was as broken a man as he was. You were certain that, if it weren’t for the destructive acts of “Danny Whizz-bang”, you wouldn’t be fortunate enough to have the second-eldest Shelby brother sitting in your kitchen, sipping tea. 

“You’re good to ‘im, you know.” 

You met Tommy’s eyes over the lip of your teacup as you took a sip of the bitter, bitingly hot liquid. His eyes were strikingly blue and steady. He regarded you evenly from the other side of your table, his expression guarded but not unkind. 

You smiled softly and sadly as you swallowed the hot tea, focusing on the way it seemed to melt through your chest.

“He’s my brother,” you replied matter-of-factly. “I love him. He’s not the same, but I won’t turn him out.”

You knew that’s what Tommy was getting at. You were good to Danny because you hadn’t turned your back on him, despite his broken parts. Most men who’d come back from the War with cases of shell-shock as bad as Danny’s had been turned out by their families. In some cases, it was because of embarrassment. Sometimes it was purely for safety. In your case, you were both ashamed and afraid of Danny’s fits, so you couldn’t say for sure why you hadn’t told him to leave. You wanted to believe that it was because of compassion, as you were happy to let Tommy believe. But there was a gnawing guilt deep in your gut that suggested other, more self-serving motives. 

The sound of Tommy’s teacup clinking into the saucer dragged you out of the downward spiral of your own thoughts. 

“More tea?” you asked, wondering if Tommy could hear the hopeful edge in your voice. He nodded gratefully, and you poured him another serving. He pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, the glow from the match casting his handsome face in sharp shadows. You busied yourself with pouring yourself a second cup as well, if only to distract yourself from staring. 

A particularly sharp yelp of terror from Danny’s bedroom set your nerves clanging. You nearly dropped the kettle on the floor as you stood, reflexively, and hurried towards the barely ajar bedroom door. You heard Tommy’s strong, sure footsteps behind you. 

From the other side of the door, you could hear Danny sobbing in his bed. You’d left all the lamps burning brightly in his room to dispel the darkness that tormented him. He was curled under the covers, laying on his side and rigid. 

“Danny?” you called quietly. He jumped at the sound. You pushed open the door, gently so as not to slam it against the wall. 

“Danny, it’s me. It’s your sister. You’re alright, Danny. You’re home.”

It never mattered what you said. It was the sound of another voice that dragged Danny out of his reveries. Surely, as the words kept flowing, you saw Danny’s tight muscles begin to unwind. 

“It’s OK, Danny. You’re safe. Home in Birmingham. This is your room. And Mr. Shelby is here, too.” 

Tommy was no stranger to the scene before him, and he picked up on your cue easily. He stood behind you, so close you could smell his cigarette and the twang of whiskey on his breath as he spoke. 

“They’re gone, Danny. No more tunnels. No more Germans. The War is over.”

Danny rolled over in his bed, his eyes wide but focused. He honed in on Tommy like a moth to a flame. You could hardly blame him: the deep tone and firm, unhurried cadence of Tommy’s voice reminded you of ocean waves. Undeniable, strong, and magnetic. 

“Mr. Shelby-”

“It’s alright, Danny. Just rest now.” 

Tommy never let Danny talk to him when he was like this. You had never asked him why - you didn’t dare to - but you suspected it was because Thomas Shelby didn’t want to be reminded of the things that haunted Daniel Owen’s nights. In fact, if you’d been a betting woman, you’d have guessed that the same horrors stalked Tommy’s dreams. There were dark pools in the back of Tommy’s eyes sometimes that reminded you of the way Danny looked when he got like this. 

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.”

Danny nuzzled down under the covers, his eyes darting to you in questioning. Finally convinced of his lucidity, you stepped forward to tuck your brother into bed. You bent over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, dabbing away the sweat that had beaded there with the hem of your sleeve. 

“Rest now, Danny Boy,” you whispered, using the name your mother had called him. Danny’s eyes drifted shut, and exhaustion took him quickly. He didn’t sleep well these days, and as the clock in your kitchen heralded the arrival of 3am, tonight was quickly shaping up to be a similarly wasted venture. 

With Danny calmed, for the moment at least, you followed Tommy’s retreat out of the bedroom. The lamps still burned merrily, burning through the precious oil you struggled to purchase at a rate comparable to the demand generated by Danny’s nightmares. Once his bedroom door had been pulled almost shut, only a sliver ajar, Tommy spoke again. 

“I should be off, y/n. It’s quite late.” 

You hated nights like these, and most of all this part of the night. The part when Thomas Shelby left. 

You didn’t trust yourself not to beg him to stay, so you bit down on your lip and said nothing. You watched as Tommy gathered his hat and wool coat from the coat rack next to your apartment door. He turned back to you, his eyes shining like pools of clear springwater. 

“Thank you for the tea,” he offered with a gracious, half-bow. So genteel and gallant. 

“Tommy, this bitter excuse for tea is the least I can offer, and you know that. Please stop thanking me for it.” It sounded bitter and outside of convention, but you meant every word. Thomas Shelby had saved your brother’s life in the War, and he continued to save it on a daily basis. The work that Tommy supplied to Danny through the Peaky Blinders gave your brother the only sense of purpose that he’d found after coming home. And Tommy’s steadfast guidance on nights like these was no small feat. You knew Danny loved you, and after almost 3 years, you’d learned how to handle your brother’s shell-shock, but Tommy had an effect on him that even booze and opium couldn’t replicate. Tommy grounded Danny. To say nothing of the effect Tommy had on you. 

As if to underscore the point, Tommy let out as close to a smile as you’d ever seen as he donned his hat. The sight made your heart twirl between your ribs like a little girl around a maypole. 

“It’s never a bad thing to express gratitude, even for humble gifts,” he replied easily. “And I am grateful.” The sincerity with which he delivered these last words silenced any retort you might have had. You could only smile back as he turned and showed himself out your front door into the dingy hallway. You didn’t close the door fully until Thomas Shelby’s footsteps had fully faded in the stairwell and down the cobbled street outside… 

**if I write a p.2 and you want to be tagged, shoot me a message!

[mangalho]

Ex-warbot OC

They don’t have names yet.

The two bots with the scary faces were specifically made for war, and now that it’s over, they still maintained their original ‘warface’ even though it has stigma associated to it. Many robots changed their faceplates post-war, as it made it easier to find jobs and not get into unnecessary conflict.

The sleeker looking guy used to be in their company, though he wasn’t made in the same factory as them; he isn’t their ’batch-mate’.

After the war he completely modified his frame, and now has an idol career. He desperately wats to erase his past, as people (and robots alike) will respond better to a ‘new’ and untainted idol.

The two warface bots are “brother and sister” and they do odd jobs here and there to make ends meet and to be able to afford things they want. Rich people hire them as bouncers a lot since they are a symbol of terrible times. Sometimes they earn 15k in one night for just one gig it’s crazy. They both really love clothes since it distances them from their body’s original purpose while simultaneously not erasing their past. Also they look cute and cool!

The idol bot once meets the warfaces by chance in the street and pretends he doesn’t know them AGAHAKALAK I think he’s insane… completely erasing your past and the person you were is psychopathic to me idk. Anyway

There arent a lot of warfaces going around anymore. since they either died during the war or changed their frames. Pre-war bots were re-fitted during the conflicts and just had to go back to their former unweaponized frames after it was all over so they’re fine.  All of these robots can download information and i want that type of learning to mostly disappear if its deleted, but if they learn things like we do or experience real events, those memories and skills can’t really truly be erased; if they do try erasing them, they will still remember them, just not with HD video clarity, which brings them immense suffering sometimes. “How to people live like this?!” Well buddy it sucks idk we all cope

Newly minted robots are wack because they don’t exactly have a ‘soul’ yet they just do things they’re supposed to do, but after some time, all of them actually develop real awareness and shit… my war bots had like a 78% chance of dying everyday when they were activated, but they survived and attained sentience at like one year post birth and they wised up rly fast after that. They remember their first year, but they describe it as a ‘weird haze’

These robots feel pain so they wont like dive into a hole or damage themselves too much. Self preservation means longer-lived machines which means less repair costs and less human lives on the line as well.. slay !!!

While the conflicts went on, most robots achieved sentience and decided to stop fighting so there was like a robots rights movement and eventually the war stopped altogether and now the robots have a salary and a normal life mostly. They arent organics, so they need other things. They are solar powered and need oil sometimes and also they need new nanomachines once in a while like we need vaccines. Get your boosters… its not just tetanus and coronavirus anymore now they gotta think about like..the trojan horse 9000

I want them to have this aversion to organic things dying bc they are universally gross. Like they dont like seeing living-machines die either but a rat being squished by a car is also gross!

There are probably some tensions between humans and robots but like i kinda get it bc i wouldnt mess with a guy who has like lead pipes for arms. also most robots ARE normal but some are insane idk 🙆‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just  like people are.

 mine are normal tho they’re just vibing 💖🗣🤙

[itsactuallycorrine]

inertia

buddie; 1K words; feelizings realizations; s08e06 spec

If Buck still had his math superpowers, he’s sure he could’ve told everyone how statistically unlikely it is for them to be on a second call where a kid fell down a well.

Even without the powers, he has an inkling: really, really, really fucking unlikely.

And yet here they are, staring at another kid stuck in a pipe, and icy cold dread ties Buck’s stomach into knots the minute Eddie opens his mouth.

Bobby says something about Eddie not fitting, and while Eddie, Bobby, and Chim are brainstorming solutions, Buck knows he needs to get his head back in the game, needs to be here, in the moment, doing his job.

Instead, his mind is cast over four years back, his eyes watch the sky for signs of a storm, his ears ring with the memory of a deafening crack, and his heart beats desperately against the cage of his ribs, pounding and pounding like it’s looking for an escape, any way out. 

“You good?” Hen murmurs to him, sliding him a solicitous glance and nudging her arm into his. 

Mouth dry, he nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he manages, and it convinces neither of them. 

Hen doesn’t call him out on it, though, just raises one brow. “He’s not going back down—he’s all right. No cut lines today.”

Buck’s still nodding, doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. An object in motion and all that, Newton’s first law, he vaguely remembers from one of Christopher’s science assignments last year. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know.” Nodding, nodding. 

She frowns, brows drawn low in concern, before a small smile pulls at her lips. “That was the first time I suspected, you know,” she says, quiet and teasing, and it’s so unexpected, he’s finally able to force his head to stop, to tilt it her way instead.

“Suspected what?”

“That maybe you weren’t as straight as we all assumed.”

It’s even more unexpected. He gapes at her. “What? Why?”

That skeptical brow goes up again. “Really?” she asks, bone dry. “You can’t think of any reason why someone might have seen you that night and suspected that maybe, just maybe, you felt a little more than friendship for your coworker?” When he stares at her, lost, she softens, grasping his arm as if to steady him for the next blow. “Buck, you were wailing and clawing at the ground like you’d just lost the love of your life.” 

Her words strum at something, buried deep down inside him, and its sonorous echoes bounce within the boundaries of his skin, making his head ring. He inhales sharply through his nose, casting his gaze away, from her, from the team, from the call. It’s not like he doesn’t remember that, remember Bobby bodily hauling him up from ground, holding Buck as he sobbed. Remember them talking to him in their gentle hysterical-victim-handling voices, assuring him that no one had given up on Eddie and they were doing what they could to get him out. Remember the heady relief of Eddie showing up on his own, cracking jokes like he hadn’t almost died, radiating cold and hardly able to stand. 

It had felt like a miracle. It still did. They’d all had their share of them, before and since, but that had been the first time it’d happened for Eddie, to Eddie, since they’d met. The first time Buck had to sit with the idea of losing him, of being left behind in a very real and permanent way, one from which there was no coming back. 

Fully-realized, post-therapy, semi-mature Buck can admit now that he’d never given himself the time or space to process that. Instead, he’d just put it away, on to the next thing. There had been Red, and then Abby’s return, and, in retrospect, an obvious dotted line that connected all three of these events, drawn in tears and sweat and blood and abandonment issues. 

But that didn’t mean what Hen was insinuating. He shakes his head. “It was Eddie,” he says, helpless. “I didn’t—I’m not… I can’t. Hen, I can’t.” It’s the last thing he needs on top of everything going on between him and Tommy, and Christopher still being gone, and all the other ripples finally calming in the wake of last spring. He cannot afford an ill-timed revelation right now.

Her lips part as she stares at him. “Buck, I didn’t mean—” she starts, only to be cut off by Chim’s urgent call of, “Hen, need you over here.” But still she hesitates until Buck gives her a nod. “We’ll talk more later,” she promises, and there is nothing Buck wants less, so he ducks her the rest of shift, and doesn’t even change out of his uniform before he takes off the next morning. 

In his loft, he struggles to keep his mind blank as he showers and changes, but as soon as he lays down, sleep eludes him and the floodgates open.

He closes his eyes against it, the childish thought that if he can’t see it, it can’t hurt him. But it’s there, and real, spilling out and touching everything, an unstoppable rising tide, and Buck curls up into a ball as it picks him up and carries him along, gasping for breath as it buffets him from every side. He wants to fight, wants to push it back, but it’s too much, years and years of moments big and small, touches, looks, words, deeds. 

It’s You can have my back any day and There’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you and You act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong and You don’t have to be anything for anybody.

It’s fond eye rolls and soft smiles and secrets shared and fears unburied and shoulder touches and the right kind of teasing. 

It’s fear and joy and laughter and tears and friendship and grief and comfort and…love. Always love. 

Hen was right; he had been acting like the love of his life had been buried alive, because he had. Because that’s what Eddie was—is—for Buck. 

Fuck.

ao3