#Torque Classes

[digitaldiseas3]

i hate physics so goddamn much i can’t wait for this class to be over

[sw5w]

Battle Droids Flee the Explosion

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:02:54

[static-void]

I need to watch animation vs physics again tbh. and maybe the math one too

they're both interesting bc they start off on very basic premises. the physics one slightly less so bc the amount of fucking. Information in physics is A Lot. But yknow it's still pretty much on a starting note

and then more concepts get introduced in a way that like. That Makes Sense a lot longer even if you aren't necessarily sure of the mechanics surrounding it

[keferon]

Inspired by the ask about Ratchets “How to hold a human class”

———————————————————————

“Kid! C’mere!”

Deadlock twitched a finial in Ratchets direction. He wasn’t quite ready to stop sulking contemplating by his spot next to the pond but Deadlock also didn’t want Ratchet to yell at him again.

Actually yell at him.

Deadlock hadn’t meant to piss the medic off, he was actually trying to help in the moment. Ratchet said he needed to get something on the catwalk so Deadlock did the natural thing and grabbed Ratchets arm to put him up there. He’d barely lifted him off the ground when Deadlock felt the shock of pain shoot through Ratchets field a split second before he shouted in pain. He immediately let go which resulted in Ratchet landing hard on his hip.

After which Ratchet flew into one of the most genuinely angry rages he’d ever seen. He’d called Deadlock every variation of “reckless” and “irresponsible” imaginable. Any thought of justifying himself withered under not so much Ratchets scolding, as the faint feeling of pain and concern that bled through the rage like a new layer of paint slapped on before the first layer could dry.

Deadlock retreated into himself and fled the hangar. Flipping endlessly between “I didn’t mean to!” and “That doesn’t matter slaghead!” Through his mind and the night.

It was morning, and Deadlock was determined not to be a coward at the very least. Whatever punishment Ratchet had decided on Deadlock would respect. Even if it was something as spark crushing as “leave and don’t come back.”

Deadlock followed Ratchet, who was favoring his right hip, back to the hangar. Deadlock kneeled and waited for his sentence.

“Okay. We’re gonna go over some ground rules and basic human anatomy so what happened yesterday doesn’t happen again.”

Deadlock’s finials popped straight up. His mouth open to say something but nothing came to fruition.

Ratchet waved his hand through the air, “You didn’t know and you didn’t mean it. We both know it was an accident but if you really want to make it up to me then pay attention.”

Deadlock closed his mouth and nodded quickly.

“Good. Now gimme your hand.”

Deadlock complied, keeping his hand lax as Ratchet manipulated it to wrap it around his arm the same way from yesterday.

“Okay, don’t do anything yet but explain to me why you grabbed me this way.”

Deadlock cycled his optics for a second while he thought.

“Cause your arm is a convenient handle?”

Ratchet breathed out his nose slowly.

“And do normally pick up other mechs that way?”

“Yes?” Sort of. Deadlock didn’t really interact with minicons. Or maybe they just avoided him.

“This makes more sense then.” Ratchet said, swinging his arm and Deadlocks hand slightly.

“Metal can take that kind of torque without easily bending or tearing . Humans are not made of freakin metal kid. We’re a lot of soft tissue wrapped around a hard skeleton. The skeleton is basically a bunch of individual struts held together by soft connective tissue. That tissue is normally pretty strong when it’s pulled the normal way.”

Ratchet leaned slightly in Deadlocks grip, “This. Concentrates all of that weight into a single joint. Now technically, my shoulder can hold my entire weight but not at such a sharp angle to my body.”

Ratchet removed his arm and began to reposition Deadlocks hand to lay flat and palm up.

Ratchet pointed at Deadlock with an accusatory finger. “Rule Number One: Always fucking ask for permission first!”

Ratchet turned and sat on his hand, scooting backwards until his back rested against Drifts thumb. “If you do need to lift a human, best option by far is just holding your hand steady and letting them climb on.”

Deadlock shifted his hand to more comfortably hold the medic. Ratchet was both squishier than he was expecting and more solid. The sensation kind of reminded him of a big warm gel packet. “I think I’m getting the picture. So what should I do if I don’t have time to ask or you can’t answer?”

Ratchet sighed and Deadlock could actually feel him deflate. His face twitched in barely restrained amusement. Ratchets face twitched in the exact opposite of amusement.

“Pick up humans around the center of mass as much as you can. Try not to pick them up by the limbs. Do not ever pick one up by the head or neck.”

Ratchet shuffled in his grip, and maneuvered Deadlocks fingers to wrap around his torso while keeping his arms free. “Now, very slowly. I want you to gently tighten your grip. Stop the second I tell you to. Got it kid?”

Deadlock’s processor glitched for a second. Logically, he understood what Ratchet was teaching him. How and why. But. He’d just hurt him. And not only had Ratchet put himself back into Deadlocks grip of his own volition. Ratchet was specifically putting himself in an even more vulnerable state then almost loosing a limb. Deadlock didn’t even feel a hint of fear in his field. All he could feel was Trust and Patience and Care, as if Deadlock was the one putting his literal life in someone else’s hands.

“Got it Ratch.” His vocalizer came out staticky.

Deadlock closed his grip at a glacial pace, there was much more give than he was expecting so it caught him off guard when Ratchet finally said “Stop.” Deadlock froze.

“This is about how far you can go before it gets uncomfortable.” Deadlock’s processor skipped again, because holy Primus that was almost no effort whatsoever. Good to know how close he came to maiming him yesterday.

“Start again.”

What?

“What?”

“There’s a lot of give between comfortable and painful. I want you to have a frame of reference for both. I’m going to stop you before anything gets damaged kid, trust me.”

Slowly, Deadlock increased his grip again. It took about another minute before Ratchet stopped him again.

He breathed out in a controlled wheeze, Deadlock could feel Ratchets pulse against his palm, only marginally faster then when they started. “And that’s the upper limit. Don’t do this shit unless you need to.”

Deadlock relaxed his grip and Ratchet slipped off his hand.

The medic took a minute to breath and roll his shoulders.

Then, Ratchet laid down on the ground.

“Okay. Final exam. I’m going to pretend to be unconscious and you’re going to pick me up.”

Deadlock actually did start laughing at that point. Starting as silent shaking and then slowly building into not-quite villainous cackling. There was just something so absurd about the situation that all the tension from the preceding day unraveled until Deadlock was also lying on the ground. Vents whining and vocalizer mostly static by the time he started to calm down again.

Ratchet had sat up and was calmly watching him. The only physical tell Deadlock could see was a faint twitch of Ratchets mouth resisting the urge to smile. But Ratchets field radiated Fondness.

“You supposed to make that noise?”

Deadlock reset his vocalizer, “Yeah, it’s just been a long time. Are you ready?” He said rising up on his elbows.

Ratchet flopped down again.

“You’ve got ten minutes and you aren’t allowed to drop me.”

Deadlock grinned like a menace, and wondered if he could talk Ratchet into any extra credit classes.

AHW THIS IS SO LYLHKGKGNH DEADLOCK COMPARING HUMAN BODY TO A GEL PACKET HE LP

[itcars]

First Look: The Aston Martin Valhalla

Fusing the performance-driven methodologies and technologies of Formula 1 with spectacular design and scintillating driving dynamics, Valhalla is a supercar of extraordinary scope. With development now at an advanced stage the time has come to reveal full details of Aston Martin’s landmark mid-engined hybrid supercar.

This relentless pursuit of excellence has seen Valhalla’s specification evolve significantly from the original concept with significant gains achieved in power output, downforce and dynamic capability. Central to this is Valhalla’s best-in-class 1079PS (1064 HP)and 1100Nm of torque hybrid powertrain comprising an 828PS (817 HP) 4.0-liter twin-turbo V8 engine and three electric motors (two of which drive the front axle) contributing a further 251PS. An all-new 8-speed DCT transmission sends drive to the rear axle, delivering split-second shift times and a thrilling shift character. Performance targets include 0-100kp/h (62mph) acceleration in 2.5 seconds and an electronically limited 350km/h (217mph) maximum speed.

Aston Martin have entered the industrialization phase of Valhalla with first deliveries of the limited 999 units to commence late in 2025.

[alexanderwales]

There's a scifi trope where the robot is ridiculously strong, being a robot and all, so while she looks like a waif, she can pick up a car or punch a hole through a wall. It's a good trope, I like that one.

I'm not sure I've ever seen the opposite of that, where there's a large robot made from the cheapest materials to the lowest standards, and looks like it could crush you in a fight, but is only barely capable of picking up 50 pounds, because that's the regulatory minimum to qualify as a certain class. Parts are expensive, so everything has been made with plastic instead of metal where possible, and there's only so much torque to the motors. It looks strong because looks sell, but how much power do you really need a domestic servant, butler, or grocery stocker to have?

[azumasoroshi]

i was hungry and these two won’t stop invading my brain during my physics lectures now

i think i conditioned myself with the hydraulic press…

under the cut for the actual notes version i did in class lmfao

simple harmonic motion is probably gonna kill me but at least i dont have to worry about that until my exam two weeks from now! only worry about the exam this week about torque and fluid dynamics which i also dont get ahahahaha…

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[inchidentally]

Hey! About your last essay, i've just foudn a proof about the "getting together out of work and out of sight" :

That said, Piastri admits the pair have found time to set aside their differences and unite with the odd padel match in their home city of Monte Carlo. “We don’t hang out that much outside of the track – we don’t really have that much time – but we’ve played padel together a couple of times,” he says. “He’s not bad, but I think I’m better. We’re definitely not the best – the two Spaniards have most of the grid covered when it comes to padel.

We never got one picture of them playing together!

babe literally !! they're both absolutely fine posting playing padel - or any other form of down time - with any other driver but then with each other they switch off from social media and like. I know I compare a lot with the Lily and Lando stuff but in a very sane non-rpf way I think Oscar decided at some point to class his time with Lando in with his time with all the people in his private life! he is extremely specific with when and how he posts/interacts w his family, Lily, his boarding school friends or his friends from karting days. but w the F3, Prema and Alpine folks he was totally fine posting content casually and frequently and the same now goes for other drivers on the grid.

he and Lando posted each other very normally those first like 3-6 months together - but at some point Lando got classed in with the people who Oscar wants to keep his time with largely off the public radar. it's the whole "private not secret" approach. and tbh esp when it comes to Lando bc as he said, they get very little actual downtime together and the rest of their time together is very public.

and what's wild is that Lando has followed suit! the guy who loves posting content of his teammates - and who at first seemed to be the same way about his fresh young teammate - has done the exact same. he even complained that Oscar didn't share a hobby with him (after spending literally a year trying to get Oscar into golf) until Oscar started sharing one of his hobbies, but his aim wasn't to post about it! he just wanted to do something not work related with him!

side note that I have an insane theory for why Lando refused to acknowledge the Williams/McLaren padel matchup proposal and never went on Team Torque bc he hated that Logan was Oscar's childhood friend and how Oscar would go off alone with Logan whenever he could and had all these in-jokes with Logan that Lando wasn't in on and !!! Lando didn't even warm up to the Williams/McLaren fan stages fully until Logan was replaced but that's insane surely like surely that's not the case...

[dailycharacteroption]

Powered Armor Jockey (Starfinder Archetype)

(art by Shardanic on DeviantArt)

Ah, power armor. Smaller than a proper mech but heavier and tougher than anything in the heavy armor category.

The technical definition of power armor is any suit of armor that comes with additional servos, pistons, and other mechanical parts meant to transfer ordinary human motion into something with a lot more torque, effectively making the wearer superhumanly strong, though depending on the setting, maybe not any faster since moving too fast without protections could see the armor ripping the wearer apart inside of it, which would of course defeat the purpose of it being armor. Additionally, typically power armor is coated in a layer of heavy plating dense enough to take heavy fire which an ordinary human could not normally move in, but can due to the help of the power armor itself.

If you’ve been reading your item descriptions, you might note that a lot of heavy armor in Starfinder is in fact technically power armor, what with assistive servos built in, but proper power armor in the system has it’s own strength score, and is big enough to have hard points for attaching weapons even if they don’t have the integrated keyword.

Now, I told you all that to tell you this: I love power armor, and I love specialist pilots for power armor even more, and that’s what we’re covering today in the form of the Powered Armor Jockey!

Not just a heavy ordinance pilot, these jockeys are also equal part modder enthusiast and field repair mechanics as well, no matter what their skillset is otherwise. This is part of the beauty of the archetype too, as anyone can take it as long as they’re proficient, and while combat-focused classes are the most obvious choice, we’ll see exactly why there’s something here for everyone.

These specialists are constantly modifying and tuning their armor, allowing them to add either an additional weapon mount or space for an upgrade. Later on, they refine this to be able to have both.

They also become intimately familiar with how their armor moves, allowing them to move closer to their normal speed, both in powered and heavy armor.

With knowledge of leverage and the upper limits of their armor, these jockeys can squeeze a bit more power and hit harder with the limbs of their power armor.

Finally, for all their love of the armor, these warriors understand that their lives are still more important than the suit, and they can choose to let their armor take the brunt of attacks they can’t stop outright, damaging it but keeping them alive.

A pretty solid archetype all around, and perfect for any character seeking to specialize in such heavy armor. Now, soldier is the obvious choice, and armor storm is definitely going to be one of your fighting style choices. The fact that so many abilities synergize and specifically stack between the two guarantees it, but beyond that, you might specialize in heavy armament with bombard, bullet storm, or shock and awe, or mix in melee focus with hit and run or wrathful warrior. Other combat classes like solarian and vanguard likely will lean either super defensive to become nearly unkillable, or let the armor do the protecting and go full offense. Meanwhile, nanocyte or evolutionist might be shockingly versatile in such armor.

With non-combat classes, mechanic and technomancer are obvious choices with their technical know-how. You might think experiemental armor is the only choice for mechanic here, but consider the exocortex as an onboard targeting system, experimental weapon as a unique integrated weapon, or even a drone support buddy covering your back. Meanwhile, mages of all stripes can make use of the powered armors durability or strength in a pinch while hammering foes and buffing allies, and sneaky classes like operative and envoy can put in some work making for surprisingly agile and fast power armor sets not unlike Samus Aran.

There’s plenty of ways you can roleplay a character like this. Whether they’re currently serving in a military, a mercenary company, or some other role, they can be anything from brash hotheads to more technical combatants. What remains true is their appreciation for their armor, which can range from technical fascination to an anthropomorphized bond with the armor. On that note, it’s important to remember that it’s completely possible to upgrade the stats of a suit of power armor instead of trading up to the next best one if your character would rather keep their current suit.

Powered armor pilots are known for being eccentric, with some even having small pets they take on missions. However, few are stranger than Aldo, Callsign: Grindhouse, who has a cable serpent named Escavor inhabiting his armor. The two formed a strong bond with each other after the latter spontaneously gained life inside the former’s armor during a mana storm. The internal damage nearly compromised the armor, but the two saved each other and have been inseparable ever since.

Balnar’s Folly is a section of the Kollas System’s asteroid belt that is also the territory of a notorious ysoki pirate, Captain Bloodtail, who fights with her custom rigged armor she calls Scrapclaws as well as a heavily armed support drone called Noisemaker. Needless to say, she likes getting up close and personal with the defenders of any ship she intends to take.

The party is tasked with infiltrating an enemy stronghold, one that should in theory be relatively unguarded save for an on-site skeleton crew of soldiers. However, the intel was bad, and one of the enemy’s elite power armor units is there, a particularly eccentric but nevertheless deadly group.

[sw5w]

Battle Droids Open Fire

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:02:27

[hirocimacruiser]

CD9A LANCER GSR Evolution

Test drive!!

The long-awaited Mitsubishi Lancer GSR Evolution has finally arrived! This car is the strongest model developed to win the WRC (World Rally Championship), and it has 250 horsepower despite being 2000cc.

It's a monster!!

Report: Shinichi Takase / Camera: Tetsuya Saito

Is this a car?

A car built to win rallies

If the Skyline GT-R is a car created to win races, then the Lancer GSR Evolution is a car developed to win rallies.

The GSR, which was originally a popular car, was equipped with an 1800 DOHC turbo engine and combined it with full-time 4WD, and was already an extreme car, but by replacing the engine with a 2000cc DOHC turbo with 250 horsepower, the original small and lightweight body was further enhanced with more power. It is a car with outstanding fighting power.

This is the engine

The most powerful in its class is 250 horsepower!!!

Based on the old Galant VR-4 inline 4 DOHC turbo, it has a large intercooler and a change to compression ratio. The engine is 10 horsepower stronger thanks to a combination of measures such as increasing the weight of the engine and reducing resistance inside the engine.

Furthermore, the engine's original characteristic of tenacity at low revolutions has also been improved, with the maximum torque generated at 3000 rpm, up from 3500 rpm, and increasing from the previous 31 kg-m to 31.5 kg-m.

What's more, the speed never drops off until it reaches around 5000 RPM.

This is how it runs!!!!!!

Acceleration, cornering, high speed, all running is sharp

The main changes to the GSR Evolution are a more powerful engine and matching tuned suspension and brakes.

Let's start with the engine. It is a completely different engine from the previous model, and the first thing I noticed when I test drove it was that it revved up very quickly.

Of course, it is true that the power is different, but what is more noticeable is that the acceleration feels sharper.

When you say it's just about power up, it just means that the engine has better power and acceleration at high revolutions, but this engine really revs well. It revs so lightly that you wouldn't think it was a large-displacement 2000cc inline-4 engine.

Of course, there is a boost from the power, but the power is explosive.

PIC CAPTION

The engine produces 250 horsepower, the most powerful in its class.

●Lancer Evolution test drive!!

It is an engine that spins so smoothly that it rises to the top with a whoosh.

This is also helped by the lightweight body weighing just 1,240 kg, and there was no sense of it holding back the powerful and sharp engine.

The impression I got from this engine was that it didn't suddenly build up, but rather the engine speed increased steadily and sharply, and the vehicle speed increased accordingly in an instant.

And yet, it has tenacity at low revolutions, and even when the revolutions are low and the gear is in a high position, the increase in revolutions is very sharp.

This suspension is suitable for sporty driving, with sufficient traction even on a series of sharp curves such as the pylon course, and with little forward lean when braking. However, the ride is surprisingly not stiff compared to the regular model. Even on rough roads, shocks are not directly transmitted, and the car remains stable and absorbs the shocks well.

On the high-speed circuit, it was incredibly stable even at speeds of over 200km/h, and even though there was quite a bit of crosswind when I was riding, I didn't feel it at all. There were some rough sections on the road, but even there, it was always stable, as if it was sticking to the road.

Although the shock when the ABS activates is a little large, it is understandable considering the power. In addition, the initial effect is sharp, so you probably won't activate the ABS on regular roads unless it's absolutely necessary.

The suspension has also been adjusted to match the power, allowing it to handle harder driving, and the brakes are equipped with large discs and opposed 2-piston calipers in the front, as well as ABS (anti-lock brakes).

This makes it a versatile bike that is perfectly normal and comfortable to ride around town, and yet has a high level of stability.

What is your impression of the room?

The interior has a more luxurious feel than a sporty one.

Recaro with special seat cover for Evolution only

It is fitted with a special seat belt and the door linings are covered in special fabric, giving it the feel of a special model.

But the coloring is bright

Therefore, it doesn't have the feel of an impressive sports car.

The seats are only Recaro.

It is comfortable to sit on and fits well.

Perfect for a thick-grip mom

○The leather-wrapped handle is also a nice touch.

It fits comfortably in your hand.

The operation system is basically the same as the GSR, but it comes with a fully automatic A/C as standard.

Aircon's operating status can be seen at a glance

Picture display. Convenient equipment with indoor and outdoor temperature display and quick cooling switch. Diversity antenna included.

A Full logic cassette is also standard equipment.

summary

The upcoming WRC will be a one-man show for GSR!!

GSR Evolution is a car built to win rallies, and is sure to be a hit not only in the WRC (World Rally Championship), where the old Galant competed until this year, but also in domestic rallies.

Moreover, the GSR Evolution is well equipped, has a comfortable ride, and is easy to handle in the city, so it can be used as a substitute for transportation. It is a car that is not just good at driving, but is popular with everyone, and it matches its flashy appearance.

It's a car you can drive into.

PIC CAPTIONS

↑Pylon course can be run accurately even at fast speeds.

↑A sporty handlebar made by Momo is standard equipment.

^The car is fitted with bucket seats made by the German company Recaro.

↑The GSR Evolution has a burst of acceleration.

↑The rear spoiler is bigger than that of the GT-R and is quite impressive.

^A triple auxiliary meter can be installed upon request.

[exitwound]

hey! just curious, are you studying physics? i loved your take on pearls as anti-cavities and I wish to hear more

i am studying poetry and oceanography! so. basically the physics of the soul and of the ocean. <3 (i am probably concentrating in biological oceanography actually but who knows) but not actual physics ive still never taken a physics class i have to soon but ive been putting it off im scared. its like the one thing that remains mysterious to me i am conceptually interested in tiny and huge scales but the real world means nothing to me...i am underly preoccupied with the concrete and utterly occupied with the stufff of dreams... i loveee fluids though. and sound. and low-reynolds number movement. that one paper 'life at low reynolds number' do you know the paper i think ive posted it here before its so CRAZY to me. and id be reluctantly open to learning more about friction and torque. the conservation of angular momentum in ice princess (2005) really changed everything for me. more than anything else i will never stop spinning . these are the main things that come to mind regarding physics. omg i got so distracted you were asking about pearls. i would love to tell you more as soon as i think of it

[f1mike28]

Mercedes-Maybach G650 Landaulet „The Ultimate Luxury G-Class“.

Definition of unique luxury.

The history of the G-Class is rich in superlatives and landmarks. With the new Mercedes-Maybach G650 Landaulet, the off-road classic demonstrates that the definition of unique luxury can always be taken to a new level. Not only that: it is forever reinventing itself and providing yet more evidence of the potential that still resides in this classic all-terrain vehicle today, which has been in production since 1979.

Masterpiece of automotive engineering.

With its superlative V12 engine, portal axles, electric fabric top and exclusive equipment specification in the rear compartment, this very special all-terrain vehicle, which is limited to 99 units, meets the expectations of customers who demand the very highest standards of their vehicle. After the Mercedes-Maybach S-Class and the S650 Cabriolet, the open-top G-Class is the first off-roader from the Mercedes-Maybach sub-brand.

Ultimate in automotive power.

As is customary with the off-road icon, the “G” is forever breaking new ground: unlike previous Landaulets, which were based on prestigious saloons, the Mercedes-Maybach G650 Landaulet also has what it takes to deliver an unforgettable off-road experience.

Familiar from the G63 AMG6×6 and G500 4×4, the portal axles provide ample ground clearance of 450 millimetres. High drive comfort comes courtesy of the most powerful available engine, the Mercedes-AMG V12 biturbo, which delivers a maximum output of 463kW (630hp) with a peak torque of 1000Nm.

Mercedes-Maybach G650 Landaulet powered by the incredible Mercedes-AMG M279 V12 biturbo engine 6.0L 630HP and 1000Nm of Torque.

Handcrafted by Michael Kübler @f1mike28 in Germany Affalterbach. Driving Performance is our Passion! Mercedes-AMG the Performance and Sports Car Brand from Mercedes-Benz.

Mercedes-AMG the Home of Driving Performance in Germany Affalterbach. Mercedes-AMG Handcrafted by Racers.

Fuel consumption combined: 17 l/100 km CO2-Emissions combined: 397 g/km.

[creadigol]

Request to continue Teacher Hero?

Only if you want to!

Please and thank you! 💖

Honestly, this has been one that has wracked my brain for a while! Due to that, I think I may have made this a bit long…but I hope you like it! 💕 Thanks for the request!

This is a continuation of my Hero Teacher prompt here

“You know…you really need to stop doing this.”

“If you let it leak, the water bill will be horrendous. Trust me, I know.”

The mechanic's dolly Villain laid on, made a sharp creek as they shifted position and grabbed some kind of adjustable wrench (one that Hero had never seen before…then again they were shit at home repairs) from the tool box. Villain’s head and shoulders were not visible from Hero’s vantage point, so they inclined themselves to speak with Villain's black jean covered legs instead.

Their favorite pair to wear while working the plumbing system, as Hero had come to learn these last few weeks.

Hero tapped their finger on the kitchen counter, “I’m not talking about the sink.”

“Well, I’m working on the sink,” came Villain’s easy and muffled reply.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Then, as this is the current activity I am doing and you are actively watching me do it, one would assume that the plausible topic of conversation, when begun under such prerequisites, would be about said activity..ie the sink.”

“And I’m not talking about the sink.”

“Then I’m confused.”

Hero huffed in frustration and ran a hand through their hair.

“Stop being obstinate!”

The resulting chuckle from under the caverns of the counter just served to irritate Hero more.

“Obstinate! That’s a big word. Does your class know the meaning of it yet or are you breaking out the SAT words now that you have a chance to talk to an actual adult?”

“For someone whose crotch is sitting dangerously close to my stomping foot, I'm hearing a lot of sass.”

“Fine, fine, point taken. What ARE you talking about then?”

Hero had to think. Honestly. What were they talking about? The home and classroom repairs? The strange new repertoire between the two of them? The fact that Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place?!

“All of it.” They finally conceded.

The torquing of the wrench stopped.

“All of what?” Asked Villain in a falsely innocent voice.

“All of THIS!” Hero gestured around their own kitchen, knowing Villain would pick up on the fact even if they couldn’t see from under the sink.

“Wha…” Hero didn’t let Villain finish.

“THIS! The home repairs, the classroom windows, little Stacy’s bike, Mrs. Santori’s 1998 Avalon…”

“Didn’t realize you knew about that one…”

“Of course I knew! Teachers of the same grade tend to go to the same meetings, dumbass. What else am I to make of her muffler and AC suddenly working again?”

The scraping of the wrench started again.

“Her mechanic is a con artist…Worked with him a few times actually…was going to charge an arm and a leg…”

“That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Then what are you asking?”

Hero had enough.

Leaning over the sink they stomped their socked foot down on the mechanic's dolly right between Villlain’s legs. Using the leverage, Hero viciously rolled Villain out, leaning over so their eyes met while Hero’s hands rested on either side of the sink and their entire stature loomed over them.

It would have been an intimidating pose, had Hero not been in a loose t-shirt, sweatpants and have their hair falling all over their face. Villain had shone up right as Hero had put on some comfortable clothes to cook in.

Villain, for their part, looked shocked for only a moment before replacing the expression with a more condescending and vexing one.

“I’m asking,” Hero said slowly, letting the intimidating tone they only used while hero-ing seep into their voice, “why?”

“Why.” Villain repeated.

“Why.” Hero confirmed.

They stayed that way in silence for a moment. Neither one attempting to break eye contact.

In a sudden movement, Villain brought the wrench they were still holding up to Hero’s face, stopping just short of their nose. Hero didn’t flinch.

“That,” Villain said easily. They moved the wrench the last inch, gently booping Hero’s nose. “Is a story for another time.”

Hero rolled their eyes, straightened and reached their hand down to help Villain up.

“What I think is more important right now, is not the ‘why’, but the ‘who’.”

Now it was Hero’s turn to try and look innocent.

“I don’t know what you mean…”

Villain threw the wrench back into the toolbox with a loud clang.

“Of course you know what I mean!”

“That’s not…I mean…It’s not relevant,” Hero stammered.

“Oh!” Villain walked closer to Hero, effectively backing them into the kitchen island. “It’s not relevant that one of the very precious students you dedicate so much of your life to..is Supervillain’s daughter.”

TBC if requested!

[animentality]

I absolutely hate act 3 of baldur's gate 3, but I fully admit, it is really fucking nice to be fully torqued.

I'm doing a gloomstalker thief fighter build and it's actually such a broken fucking build, especially when dual wielding.

oh look im at the front of the initiative every time, oh look, dread ambusher, oh look, sneak attack, oh look, I'm not a rogue so I get an extra attack, oh look, I'm dual wielding as a thief and I have TWO offhand melee attacks, oh look, action surge, let's do that all over again. still alive?

lol, not for long.

plus you're kitted. I have vulnerability to all physical damage gear, I always have advantage, and gear reducing the number to crit. I have orin's daggers and rings that let me paralyse opponents.

I ALSO have highly annoying spells, number one being, ensnaring strike.

get fucked orin, you can't move as I bash you over and over with haste.

you also get spike growth, which is very useful for making them BLEED before they get anywhere near you.

it's a really great build (I stole it from a YouTuber, I'm not applauding myself)

actually brilliant.

plus if you sneak around and initiate fights with a hit, you still get a turn to use dread ambusher and your second attack.

no one told me a non magic class could be so fun.

I refuse to be a paladin but this build has made me appreciate the melee classes.