#rectangular headlights

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Alfa Romeo Giulia TZ1 Prototype, 1962, by Zagato. The "Tubolare Zagato" that was presented at the Turin Motor Show in November 1962, designed by Ercole Spada, had rectangular headlights that were dropped on later versions of the car.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— SUNBURN

SUMMARY : you're the wedding planner for sam's wedding, it's at the beach and… well, dean at the beach

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, jessica moore

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, some suggestiveness, shy!reader (lmaoo, or awkward, if you'd like), angst if you squint

WORD COUNT : 1.8k

A/N : title is a muse song. part of the @alphabetquest beach party prompt and the @jacklesversebingo square wedding planner au. y'all, this was new to me, but I liked embarrassing the reader and making her embarrassing and shy xx

You felt slightly guilty for not telling Sam about you and Dean.

To be fair, you didn't know they were related when you met Dean. 

You met him at a local cafe, had your laptop in front of you, a couple of notes scribbled on photographs and other sheets of colourful paper strewn over the table besides a warm cup of coffee from your third refill, and a slice of pecan pie that was quickly getting colder and colder. 

Dean came in when you were been busy arguing with the local florist over the phone about what Jessica wanted the flower arrangement to look like. The florist wanted to give his opinion, as if it even mattered. It wasn't his wedding, it was Jessica's. 

You started to stress over having to consider calling a different florist. 

Phone calls just weren't your thing despite all the work and phone calls you take due to your job, but it's still the one thing you're always nervous about doing. 

You buried your fingers in your hair and nervously rubbed your fingers against the strands between your fingers as you looked through the checklist for something you'd much rather focus on. 

"Careful there, sweetheart," Dean's voice turned your attention away from the screen of your laptop. "You'll pull your pretty hair out." You stared up at him, that flirty smirk on his lips made you smile subconsciously, and you turned hot with embarrassment. 

You untangled your fingers from your hair to hold your wrist over the table and brushed your fingertips nervously over photographs of the beach Jessica was interested in. 

You stared into his green eyes, his expenctant face made you freeze. He was smiling—tightly now, and began chewing on his lip the longer you stared like a deer caught in headlights, the amusement in his eyes dimmed, and he suddenly appeared unsure.

"Sorry, am I botherin' you?" 

"No! I-" you cleared your throat, hoping the blaze in your cheeks would cease. "I was just… distracted." He smiled and looked down at the small cup of coffee in his large hands. You bit your lip to calm yourself, but then he looked up at you again, and all the words you were forming in your mind for a sentence, suddenly vanished. 

"Alright," he murmured shyly, then reached into his black jacket, and pulled out a small card. "I'm gonna be straightforward here and say that you're cute." He stared down at the small rectangular paper between his fingers and placed it above the pile of papers. You blinked up at him dumbly, turning hotter and hotter. "Call me when you're not… distracted," he teased, biting his lip before stepping away and leaving the cafe. 

You blinked down at the business card he left for you, his name was printed in black, his number. He was a mechanic from Kansas. A sexy one. And he thought you were cute. 

And that was really what started this whole secret of yours. 

You met him, not knowing he was Sam's older brother until a few days after. Days after you anxiously called his number to give him your name and plan a date. Days after you'd already had a date with him. Days after you'd both already made out heavily in his car. 

You found out Dean was Sam's brother when Jessica had begged you to have dinner with them. 

You were happy that she liked you that much, half-shocked and half-uncomfortable with getting closer to a client than professionally required, but you couldn't help being drawn to Jessica and her friendship after all the months that had passed. 

When you got to their home, after nervously navigating through Google Maps, you'd entered to find Sam smacking Dean over the head with a rolled-up wedding magazine because he'd dozed off on the couch with a half-empty beer. 

You and Dean stared at each other across the table as the four of you ate, slowly and stupidly putting the pieces together. 

Dean left Kansas to come to California for Sam and Jessica's wedding. He was staying for a month before returning to Kansas as you prepared everything for the special day. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but this was definitely not it. 

Of course, after your initial shock, Dean quickly became more comfortable around you. 

And you were half-sure Jessica was trying to set you up with Dean while Sam tried to sway you away from his brother. 

To say the least, it was a mess. One that Dean was loving. 

It made you cringe to remember the day you met him, but Dean made a point to remind you as much as he could about how it happened, whenever he deemed it the right moment. 

It never was the right moment to you. 

To him, the right moment was whenever anyone asked how you and Dean met. You'd freeze up and be vague about it, or you'd lie and say it was through Sam and Jessica, but Dean would wait for them to leave before reminding you how it actually happened. 

You came to find that with Dean, it was nearly impossible to keep something quiet.

He was so…

Well, he stole kisses whenever he had the chance, reached out to touch you whenever he could, and whispered things to you knowing he wouldn't get caught.

He wouldn't get caught. 

But you, you were obvious. It was impossible to hide the way he made you feel, and really, you hated your body for betraying you that way. 

You swallowed your pride and fumed internally for being so… fucking shy. 

Now, here you were. 

Finally, on Sam and Jessica's wedding.

Jessica had insisted that you enjoy yourself now that the main part was over. She was glowing and absolutely beautiful. 

Jessica found out about you and Dean not long after, when he thought he could get away with making out with you in the hallway of Jessica's house after you'd innocently exited the restroom. 

He'd surprised you, waiting a few feet away from the door. You lifted a brow at the way he casually leaned against the wall. When you stood closer, he'd turned to you, grabbed your jaw, and kissed you until you almost couldn't breathe. And Jessica had gone up to check on you and found… well, that: Dean leaning over you with his tongue shoved in your mouth while you clung desperately to his soft flannel with his fingers pressed carefully into your cheeks as he led the kiss. 

At that point, you were convinced the universe enjoyed putting you in embarrassing situations. 

You only dreaded the beach party, the reception that Jessica had insisted you relax and enjoy after all your hard work. 

The dread wasn't really because of Dean, it was because of you. The way he made you feel so… shy. It was annoying. 

What happened to the way you couldn't shut up when someone pissed you off? What happened to the way you stood your ground and held a man's gaze whenever he flirted with you? 

Of course that may be because Dean was Dean, he was hot, and he was funny, and he was smart, and he was kind, and he was confident, and he was sweet, and he was romantic. Basically, it was because you liked him, but you begged the universe to tell you why you had to get tongue-tied and turn scarlet in his presence. Even after all the time that had passed. Why couldn't you just get used to it?

You couldn't really complain. Seeing Dean… almost naked… with those fucking shorts hanging low on his hips. His toned stomach and the trail of light, fine hair leading downwards… 

You were thirsty. 

You took a sip of your cool piña colada. 

Jessica and her bridesmaids continued to gush about weddings, romance, their boyfriends, and their future dreams. 

All you could do was focus on Dean. You almost didn't want to think about what they were talking about and associate it with Dean…

He was excited.

About the sand crunching beneath his feet, about the salty breeze that stuck to his skin and tousled his brown hair, about the kiss of bright sunlight against his gorgeous freckled skin.

It made you smile and like him even more.

Eventually, Jessica and her bridesmaids got drunk enough that they started to dance and sing with each other. 

And you'd found yourself falling into Dean's gravity. 

He held you in his arms and swayed slightly to the song playing on the speakers, his beer hung loosely in his hands behind you. He seemed sober as he gazed down at you, arousing that stupid hot blush on your cheeks. 

You huffed and looked at the waves as they rolled and swayed, away and towards you. 

You heard the dull glass thump of his mostly-empty beer bottle hitting the sand. One of his hands was warm and the other was cool as they moved up your back. You sivered at his touch and bit your lip, smilling to yourself as your gaze moved up towards the horizon.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, playing with the thin strap of your bikini. Your breath hitched when his fingers suddenly crossed over your shoulder to graze the side of your breast. 

"Huh?" You stared up at him.

His intuituve green eyes looked into you. Instead of repeating the question, which took you a few moments to process anyway, Dean took your hand, and gently kissed your salty wrist. You clenched your hand tightly, your heartbeat thudded loudly at his affection, and you bashfully pulled your hand out of his grasp.

He was sneaky and brought his other hand to your cheek. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his fingers tangled lightly in you knotted hair. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured, stepping so close to you, flashes of hotter images of being this pressed up against him flooded your mind. 

You uttered his name quietly, hoping that no one was watching you. The water lapped at your feet, cooling you down and urging you to give in. 

You didn't know if the small waves were making you dizzy or if it was Dean who tenderly brought you closer to his lips. 

He kissed you slowly, breathed you in deeply, and mumbled against your parted mouth, "do you want me to stay?"

In an instant, you imagined morning and evenings with him. You imagined visitng the beach more often, getting older, kissing more, loving more of him. He kissed you as you pictured the life you could have if he decided to leave his entire life behind in Kansas and move to California with you. 

Would he regret it? Would you?

Dean pulled away from your mouth and licked the taste of you from his plump, pink lips. You smiled and hid your face by looking down at his freckled chest, tracing a random path of freckles with your eyes and fingers. "I'd like it if you stayed, Dean. Just know… I'd go anywhere with you, too, if it's what you want."

Dean chuckled softly, his calloused hands cupped your hot cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. He held you close, placed his chin on top of your head, and mumbled, "Yeah, we still have time to figure it out."

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[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

1969 was, effectively, the final year for the Shelby Mustang. By now assembly had shifted in Michigan from California where it was contracted out to A.O. Smith Corporation. Smith, an established Motor City contractor, had brought a level of serious manufacturing skill, supplier management, procedure and standards never seen at Shelby’s facility where LAX met the vibrant (and sometimes extreme) subculture of Venice, California.

Now largely designed and specified by Ford staffers, the 1969 Shelby Mustang was drastically different visually from the standard Mustangs, with a completely different nose and grille, a wide rectangular opening with blacked out grille flanked by 7” headlights and with Shelby’s characteristic driving lights now smaller rectangular pieces below the attractive, but largely ineffective, bumper. The special Shelby hood had five ducts, three NACA-style surface ducts replaced the complicated but entertaining shaker hoods of years gone by to supply cold air directly to the engine air intake and two extractors at the back of the hood relieving underhood pressure and exhausting heated air in front of the windshield.

A surface duct behind the headlights and a scoop behind the door and in front of the rear wheel arch that was ducted to the rear brakes continued the performance theme. The rear panel was completely different from the Mustang, housing a set of 1965 Thunderbird sequential taillights with the rear license plate placed between them and including a small ducktail spoiler. The area under the bumper where standard Mustangs carried their license plate contained two rectangular outlets for the Shelby’s dual exhaust system. Standard wheels were unique 5-spoke Mag Stars with alloy centers and chrome steel rims.

Under the hood lay the 428 Cobra Jet which had powered the ’68 Shelby GT500KR. Both Ford and Shelby recognized the superiority of the high performance CJ and made it the standard engine for 1969’s Shelby Mustangs. 

At the end of the 1969 model year 789 Shelby Mustangs were in-process at A.O. Smith. They were visually updated with black hood stripes and a chin spoiler and given new VINs. Otherwise the 1970s were exactly the same as the ‘69s making these two years essentially identical examples of the end of the Shelby Mustang series which had begun only a scant six years before.

Avidly sought by collectors and obsessively documented by the Shelby American Automobile Club, most Shelby Mustangs are well known and have well known histories. Occasionally, however, a example appears which has been out of sight for years. Even more rarely it turns out to have been little used and continuously maintained by a thoughtful and caring single owner for nearly forty years.

The Black Jade 1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Sportsroof fastback offered here is one of those rare and highly desirable cars. It was delivered new to Ford’s dealer in Yokohama, Japan, Marubeni Motors K.K., and was sold thereafter to its first, and only, owner in Japan. It has been repainted in the original color once but is otherwise completely original, as delivered and has only 84,941km on its metric-calibrated export speedometer (52,779 miles.) Its sympathetic maintenance and care shows throughout in its clean, straight, rust-free condition.

Power of course comes from the 428 cubic inch Cobra Jet Ram Air V-8 engine which Ford and Shelby conservatively rated at 335 horsepower at 5,200rpm and a gut-wrenching 440 lb-ft torque at 3,400rpm. It puts the power through Ford’s highly regarded C-6 automatic transmission and Traction-Lok differential with high speed 3.00:1 gearing that takes full advantage of the CJ engine’s torque. In addition to the highly desirable drivetrain specification it is loaded with options including the Visibility Group, Goodyear white letter tires, Sport Deck folding rear seat, power front disc brakes, power steering, tilt steering column, Selectaire air conditioning, AM/8-track stereo radio, tinted glass, deluxe belts, tachometer and trip odometer.

It is finished in one of the Shelby Mustang’s most attractive colors, Black Jade. The interior and high back buckets seats are upholstered in black Clarion Knit/Corinthian vinyl that complements with Black Jade exterior.

It returned to the U.S. in 2006 but has never been titled by its current owner so it remains a one-owner car. Its absolutely clear history, one-owner provenance, highly original condition with known mileage and extensive options list are attributes shared by few Shelby Mustangs of this age. This is a rare opportunity for an astute collector to acquire a particularly significant, unmolested Shelby Mustang from the last, and most highly developed, series.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

Powered by a 428ci V8 engine mated to a C6 automatic transmission, this beauty includes the original #Shelby owner card, a copy of the Shelby work order and Window Sticker.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

[hogmilked]

what's ur process for identifying cars? like what features do u look at and so on?

oh hell yeah i assume you’ve seen my other blog lol, yeah a lot of it is just years of paying attention to them and design trends, so i can usually place a general era and brand based on what logos i see, what some companies design languages were at different times, body styles, stuff like that. so even if i can’t identify an exact model, i can look at a big long boxy sedan in usually rather muted colors with a long hood but sleek profile with rectangular headlights and a specific hood emblem and know it’s a cadillac from the 70s or 80s. if i don’t know more than a brand and general era i’ll usually have to do a bit of googling but just having that preliminary knowledge helps narrow it down.

for a lot of relatively common or newer cars i usually just recognize them, i’ve hyperfixated on cars for almost 20 years, used to get tons of car enthusiast magazines and still engage with a lot of enthusiast media, so i kind of just know a shit ton of them. then it’s usually just googling to check my work/intuition and get an exact year or range of years. like i identified a toyota 4runner and specific generation of it in a video where a lot of the more obvious identifying features were only visible for a second, but in that second i recognized it even at a glimpse because i am just somebody who could recognize a car from a taillight in the dark when i was like 9. or in cases where it’s a closeup shot, like the toyota highlander from the daffy duck fish sticker post, all i had was a cut off bit of the text and the bottom of a taillight, but i know the highlander model and could estimate the general era of car based on the shape and moulding of the body contours and taillights, and narrowed it down further based on differences in the tail light housings between generations

i know that was a long explanation that probably made only so much sense but the tl;dr is autism :3

[nsves]

blender lighting tutorial + tips.

requested by @thecrimsonsimmer + recommended viewing: youtube video one, two, three, and four. this post will be dealing with newer versions of blender (2.8+) and cycles since that's what i'm more familiar with + commonly used for rendering. this is coming from me as an artist with some dabbling in photography and things i've learned in college!

references and setting the mood

are you basing your render on an existing photo? study the light source and what direction it's coming from: that's what's going to tell you your set up for a similar effect. if you're not basing it on an existing piece, a good start is knowing How you want to set your subject (your sim) up - do you want them to be in the spotlight? are they in a specific environment that has neon lights? are you going for moody or something fresh, bright? definitely look up colors and their meaning (color theory, movie screencaps, etc.) to create a stronger image!

using resources to start the set up

it's always a good thing to mix your tools with different communities, such as the art community! many have lighting tools to figure out how to color their subject, such as this free-to-use head figure that depicts where the lighting source should be placed.

there's also the photography community and teaching people how to set up their lights for certain setups. video three and four linked in the beginning are from photography viewpoints.

spot? area? point? sun?

let's think of the lighting types as objects - a spot is like a plain lightbulb, area is a reflective sheet, spot is a flashlight, and the sun... well is the sun!

a spot is similar to an area light, but triangular/a cone. think of a helicopter search light, it's focused on a small area with the most light concentration. these can be used for lamps with lampshades, car headlights, or a lighthouse.

an area light is great for lighting up technology. a phone screen, tv screen, tablet, anything that's an LED screen emitting from a surface. the light is not as concentrated as a spot and is meant to cover more flatly (hence the rectangular source)

a point is best used for small pops of colors such as candlelight, lamppost, lightning bug tail, etc. a small source that has nothing covering it.

a sun covers the entire area and can be used as the overall mood setter. it can create filter over the entire render by just shifting the color like you would see in a movie. you'll be given a line with a sun light that gives the direction of where the sun is coming from. basically a spot light just on a much larger scale LOL.

power + coloring

this screenshot is mostly what you'll only use to start off with. watts is the unit of measurement and the higher you go, the brighter the light will be. examples with a white colored point light 10W-20W: general portrait lighting 30W-50W: bright source, close flashlight for example 60W+: blinding

coloring is just like the system for in game lights for ts4. shift it to whatever you want it to be (click the white bar, that's the color preview) and mess around with the vibrancy. the darker, more intense color, the less it's going to appear on the sim.

closeness and intensity

similar to what's shown in the head lighting tool shown earlier, the closer the light is, the more that specific area is lit up. go too close and your sim could be completely washed out. it helps to change the size of the light (change with the radius slider) to better imitate what you're wanting. the larger the radius, the more diffused and softer the light source will be. close + small = very clear of the light source shape, can obviously tell where it is in relation to the subject far away + large = soft lighting, more of a hazy lighting of the color you choose.

to quickly adjust the light, press "G" and hold down your middle mouse button to adjust which axis you'd like to edit along. green is the x-axis, blue is the y-axis, and red is the z-axis. you can also press "G" and type the letter of the axis you want to use. drag the mouse to change the placement on that specific axis to however you want. if you want to freely edit the placement, just press "G" to move it out of the axis bounds.

world lighting

take this step as setting your canvas color before you start painting. in order for the values to look their best, change the world color to the same hue of the color you are mostly using. for example, this is set in a red-toned environment:

this is essentially changing the cast shadow onto the sim. the default is gray and will muddy up your undertones if not changed properly. for this instance, if you were to still use the same red point light in a gray world color it'd look like this:

of course, this will be based on if you have an environment image or not that can affect your lighting overall. this post is based on the fact there is no environment image and what not! if you need a visual demonstration on how to mess with the world lighting, check out this short video.

i hope that helped anyone beginning to render or wanting to light up your own scenes! i'm no rendering expert, but here's some of the helpful tricks i've learned and collected over the years<3 if you have any other questions feel free to send an ask!

[mellifluouaamor]

⍣ | MOON EMBRACES THE SUN: CHAPTER 1

Synopsis. ( Gangsta AU ) One day, when you are cleaning the Italian brothers' house, you suddenly remember your past life - and Italy, who's supposed to be your closest companion, now feels like a stranger to you.

Pairing. Italy x Fem!Reader x Romano

Warnings. N/A

NAVIGATION

You blankly stared outside the window, eyes focused on nothing in particular. You had been in the middle of sweeping the floor in the dining room when a house sparrow flew near the window beside you, its gentle tweet capturing your attention. When you turned your head, the tiny bird perched itself on a lamp post, tilting its head adorably at you. You weren't sure what was so interesting about a mere sparrow, but an inexplicable force compelled you to gaze upon it, as if you were hypnotised. Even after the bird had flown away, you stayed rooted to your spot, staring ahead as unfamiliar yet familiar scenes flashed before your eyes.

There was a young girl walking down a street.

'Who is that?' you thought, knitting your eyebrows together.

She was staring at the rectangular metal object emitting light in her hand, unaware of her surroundings. She then stopped near the side of the road, where thick white stripes lead to the other side.

You watched her every movement in anticipation, gripping the broom tightly until your knuckles turned white.

The girl then looked up and proceeded to cross the road, before lowering her eyes to the object in her hand again. Unbeknownst to her, a large metal mount was speeding in her direction, seemingly disoriented with how it was swerving from side to side recklessly.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally screamed at the girl to move. You didn't know how, but you knew, at that moment, she was going to die.

Her attention was diverted to the incoming danger far too late. She froze like a deer trapped in headlights, her pupils dilating at the truck that seemed to be getting bigger - getting closer, charging towards her like an enraged bull.

Her phone flew out of her grasp as a sickening thud resounded through the area.

A grenade suddenly exploded on one side of your body; an invisible wrecking ball of metal and glass slammed into your shoulder, tearing a scream out of your throat as you dropped on the floor. The broom slipped out of your grasp and clattered next to your writhing body, tiny diamonds of sweat beading on your forehead. You let out choked gasps as you clawed at your chest; your head was pounding, it felt as if your ribs were broken, your lungs punctured... It was so painful. You felt the agonising pain the girl in those flashbacks experienced in her final moments, and you knew the reason.

You were that girl - you had died once.

And at this moment, you're a fictional character who technically doesn't exist in the world of Hetalia, an anime with characters that are personified countries, regions and micronations. As more memories rushed in like a tidal wave, you realised that you're in the Gangsta alternate universe, a dystopian Pangea where instead of countries, there are 200 districts ruled by mobsters and represented by their representatives, with the world being a lot more punk and grunge-like.

What you had once thought was impossible turned out to be the opposite, and you were living proof of the transmigration phenomenon.

Your mind was pulled back to the present when a pair of gentle hands frantically lifted your upper body from the floor, rolling you over so that your shoulder blades rested upon their arm; you didn't even notice that somebody had rushed into the dining room after hearing your outburst. Through the tears blurring your vision, you saw a youthful face framed by short brown hair, with an odd curl lightly bouncing on the left side of his head.

"Bella, are you alright? I heard you scream from the next room!"

A man's voice. It took you a few seconds to recognise who he was, and once you did, you shakily fisted his brown waistcoat, causing a look of concern to furrow his brow.

"M-Mr Italy," you whimpered, almost whining his name. His cheeks flushed faintly at your response. Swallowing the fluttering embarrassment, he raised the hand that wasn't supporting your back to cup over yours that's clinging to him. He gently eased his digits between the gaps of your fingers, coaxing you to relax.

"It's alright," he assured you, his soft brown eyes gazing at you kindly, "I'm here." He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to you, but he could tell that you needed some comfort at the moment, especially with how you seemed to be in pain. Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Italy brought your hand up to his mouth before gingerly planting his lips against your palm with his eyes closed. Your breathing hitched in your throat, your pulse pulsating against his lips. He then pulled away after a beat or two, smiling down at you.

Feeling your nerves calming, the mental exhaustion from your previous episode finally caught up to you and your eyelids fluttered shut. As the strength left your hand, your entire body went limp in his arms, causing panic to rise in his chest. Hugging you tightly against him, Italy turned his head to the doorway with desperation etched on his face.

"Fratello! Fratello, please help!" he cried out. As if on cue, heavy footfall approached the dining room, followed by the muttering of a grumpy Italian. He huffed as he stalked through the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What is it, idiot brother?! What did you-" Romano stopped abruptly, his eyes widening at the sight of your unconscious self being cradled in his younger brother's arms. After getting over his initial shock, he shuffled closer to the two of you before kneeling down, concern swirling in his hazel hues.

"What happened to the ragazza?" he asked, his voice taking on a calmer tone. Italy shook his head.

"I don't know... I heard her scream just now and when I came to check on her, she was on the floor... She looked like she was in a lot of pain," the younger brother answered quietly, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Romano carded his hair with his fingers. "Let her rest in her room... and make sure to close and lock all the windows."

Nodding, Italy wrapped an arm around your shoulders and hooked an arm under your knees, before lifting you off the floor with a surprising amount of strength. He carefully shifted you around in his arms to guide your head to his chest, and then walked past Romano to bring you to your room, where he laid you down on the bed. After tucking you in, he sat on the edge of your bed, his gaze never leaving your form. He hoped that you're alright and that you'll tell him what transpired before he found you in that state. Letting out a muted sigh, he gingerly brushed away the stray strands of hair from your forehead, resolving to stay by your side until you've woken up.

An hour later, you regained consciousness. Hearing soft snores beside you, you rolled your head to the side and lifted your eyelids to find Italy asleep next to you with his head resting atop his folded arms. One of his hands was lightly grasping yours, and it was only then did you register his warmth against your skin. When you slowly slipped your hand out of his and propped yourself on your elbows, he was stirred by the subtle movements. Eyelids fluttering open, the Italian raised his head from his arms, yawning rather cutely.

"(Y/n)?" he murmured, noticing that you're awake. His face immediately lit up, and you could have sworn you saw the curl in his hair bob up and down. "You're up! Are you okay?" He made a move to hug you but you instinctively flinched out of his reach, making him falter. He looked at you curiously, realising that you're avoiding his touch. You didn't know why you did it either; in this life, you're closer to Italy than you were to Romano, so why do you feel unfamiliar with him, like he's a stranger to you? You averted your eyes, puzzled by your own actions. You tried to remember the times Italy conjured up a sense of comfort and security when the two of you were together, but found yourself struggling. The details were vague, blurry - as if there was a mist in your mind. You held your head, your heart thumping against your chest in slight panic.

Why was it so hard to remember?

"What's the matter?" he asked, drawing you out of your thoughts, "Why won't you look at me?" His voice carried a hint of hurt which prompted your gaze to drift back to him.

"I... I'm sorry, I..." you said, trailing off. Not knowing what to say to him, your threw the blanket off your body and slid off the other side of the bed. Before Italy could stop you, you had already scampered out of the room, leaving a confused and saddened Italian behind.

"Bella...?" he softly called, hoping that you'd return through the doorway - but only silence answered him.

CHAPTER 2

[nczaversnick]

Project Gemini Chapter 1

This is just a draft so far but it is somewhat polished. Enough to share anyway. This is kinda long so it’s below the cut. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

April 12th - 13:32

Bourne, Titania District

“And with these results that we’ve calculated, we’re able to connect the final piece in better understanding, diagnosing and healing our patients,” a masked woman dressed in charcoal gray-colored scrubs underneath a black lab coat turned and faced a frazzled, deer in headlights look in his eyes man, “Any questions?”

Caspian fiddled with his Holographic Screen Projector tablet. Despite the schoolboard’s constant bragging about the advantages of providing ‘highly sophisticated technology’ to their students, having them be the size of magazines was one of their downfalls. On one hand, they were a clumsy, rectangular shape that weren’t user-friendly enough to be held in one hand and type efficiently with the other. On the other hand, proven time and time again, the lined carbon fiber plates were the superior material to withstand any tumbles from any height. Not that he would know anything about that, but if he did, he knew he could safely count his blessings because the replacements of any AF series of the HSPs would have cost him a month’s rent, including an arm and a leg. He glanced up from his notes and noticed the waning patience on the woman’s face. He quickly looked back down and hurriedly scrolled through his curriculum.

“Sorry,” he stuttered, his cheeks reddening. He finally found what he was searching for and took a moment to peer at the list.

“What do you usually do with the outliers, the ‘critical values’?”

“Oh, yes! We have a strong fail safe system to ensure our results are as accurate as possible. We check the calibration,” she continued to prattle on as he rolled his sore shoulders around. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and his empty stomach churned and growled as another day of dense learning piled on top of him.

“So, obviously, a carbon dioxide level of 35 millimoles per liter would raise concern in doctors, and a level of 21 thousand would raise concern in police,” it was hard enough to decipher exactly what she was saying due to the thick material of her mask, but the way she quickly skimmed and bounced back and forth between topics made it near impossible. Her eyes glanced up towards the flashing digital clock illuminating the door.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much more of your time,” the sudden change in the pitch of her voice snapped him back to reality, “I know you students have a lot to cover in your other areas, and it’s almost time for lunch anyway. I hope you took a little something out of this rotation.”

“I did, thank you so much,” he quickly shoved his tablet into his school bag and readjusted the strap on his shoulder. The masked woman’s eyes crinkled in a way that he could only guess was from a smile as she escorted him away from the laboratory and towards the elevators.

“Take care of yourself, young man.”

The doors closed and, after a few moments of silence, save for the soft whirring of the elevator at work, opened to a scene of minor chaos. Not like it was anything he wasn’t used to at this point. He carefully made his way across the room, cautious of the other medical personnel and ensuring not to run into any of them in their hustle and bustle between patient rooms.

Blip.

He tiredly swiped his badge in front of a small, wall-mounted monitor. A large glass screen above the monitor flickered to life, and a robotic voice called out:

Screen: “Greetings, Caspian Álvarez. How can I assist you?”

“Clock out for break.”

Screen: “You have chosen to clock out for break on April 12th at 13:48. Your expected clock-in is 14:33 on April 12th. Please present PIN to confirm or say ‘cancel’ to cancel.”

He held out his right wrist towards the small monitor and a faint chime soon followed:

Screen: “PIN accepted. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“No, thank you.”

Screen: “Goodbye.”

The screen flickered off, leaving behind the reflection of his tired face. He sighed and dropped his arm dramatically as if going through the extra security of clocking out for lunch would be the most grueling task he would have to face for the rest of the day.

“I feel that, but you know, I think I would prefer just giving a PIN than having to go through the extra security clearances like the hospitals in Eltrax or the Aurora District in general,” a man’s deep voice suddenly spoke, “I get that it’s the capital, but having to present your PIN, registered fingerprints and an ocular scan? Could you imagine how backed up it could get? No thanks.”

A man dressed in light blue scrubs underneath a blinding, white coat approached him. Despite the intimidating appearance of his large, sculpted muscles hidden poorly beneath his uniform and his towering six foot five to Caspian’s five foot eight, he was a gentle giant with a bright smile.

“Oh, hey, Doctor Bruno.”

“How are you surviving out here?”

“Well, trying to find the balance between the rotations and your classes is a little challenging, but I made it this far.”

Bruno chuckled and gently patted his shoulder, “From what I’ve seen, I think you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Finals are just around the corner. Take advantage of the break afterward. Get some sleep.”

Caspian internally groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face as if to wipe away the permanent raccoon rings around his eyes, causing Bruno to chuckle again as the PA system above crackled to life:

PA System: Paging Doctor Bruno to room 12.

Doctor Bruno to room 12.

Bruno picked up a small device clipped to his hip, and pressed it, “Page confirmed.”

He turned to him and gave a sympathetic smile, “That’s my cue. Hang in there, Álvarez.”

Caspian waved goodbye to his professor as a faint jingle rang out from his uniform pocket. He fished out a palm-sized HSP, and fiddled with the screen. He sighed and waited patiently for his messages to load. He often considered getting his personal tablet replaced, but knowing how much it initially cost him, he figured he would milk as much as he could from it before it officially died. His messages finally pulled up, and he quickly skimmed over them. There was only one that caught his attention, and it was from one of his classmates:

Audrey: Hey, I found us a table in the

cafeteria. Hurry, though, I’m starvin’

(4/12 13:51)

He chuckled softly, slipping his tablet back into his pocket as he headed towards the doors. On his way, he couldn’t help, but take a few, fleeting glances inside the patient rooms. The rooms were pristine, although a bit on the boring side: white walls with gray baseboards with lone, hardly worn chairs pushed into the corners. Each room had a different number of machines crowding the patient, depending on the severity of their conditions, yet, despite how many there were, none of them made a peep above a soft hum. It almost felt lonesome seeing as there really was no need for physical visitors since each room had large screens bolted to the wall opposite of the patients, the surface plastered by faint, glitching images of doctors or presumably loved ones. The only other living thing in those rooms were the dusty, single photograph portraits of nature that hung on the wall. He didn’t realize he had come to a standstill until he heard another faint jingle from his tablet:

Audrey: Dude, where are you???

(4/12 13:55)

He shook his head at her impatience, and quickly exited the ward. After a few turns and more hallways, he soon approached a pair of glass doors that slid open in his presence. The vibe of the cafeteria was eerily similar to the ward: neutral facial expressions, quiet conversations with an occasional soft laughter surrounded by blank walls and dust covered portraits. His eyes quickly scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces.

“Hey, over here,” a loud voice bellowed, breaking the calm setting.

He didn’t even have to glance in the direction the voice was coming from to know who it belonged to. He soon caught sight of his eccentric classmate, standing up and waving her arms around. He internally groaned, heat rising to his cheeks as he quickly cut through the cafeteria and past the other hospital members who perked their heads up at the sudden commotion.

“Did they not teach you anything about being a ‘good representative of Utristan’ zombie while you were in basic, Private,” he smirked, keeping his voice low.

“Oh. My. God. You have no right to be pulling rank since we’re both Privates, Álvarez,” Audrey scoffed, rolling her eyes, “And right in front of my lunch, nonetheless. Those were the worst two years of my life.”

“I don’t know, I found it a little comforting, especially since I had no idea what I wanted to do after high school.”

“I thought my ASAPT scores would have been lower.”

“You’re smart, Audrey, give yourself some credit.”

“If I did, then where would I get my sympathy points from,” she grinned, sliding over two trays filled to the brim with warm, delicious-smelling food. He rolled his eyes, chuckling. His stomach growled and his mouth watered as he eyed the tray.

“I owe you one.”

“Just pay for my dinner.”

Not a moment later, he was already scarfing down his food as she calmly enjoyed hers.

“No breakfast this morning?”

“Didn’t have time. I went to bed late, so I got up late,” his words were barely audible through his full mouth.

She sighed, “Up late studying again? You’re smart, Cas. I bet you could not study for a week and still be able to pass.”

“Hah.”

“I’m serious! At this rate, you’ll burn yourself out before we even get a chance to start working. We should take a trip somewhere together after finals.”

“We only have a couple of weeks off before the summer semester.”

“Huh, but I’m not taking summer classes unless,” she trailed off.

He paused for a moment, gingerly scratching at his cheek.

“Caspian Álvarez, don’t tell me you’re taking extra classes over the summer!”

“I just want to get them out of the way.”

“You’re literally the worst,” she threw her hands in the air as she slumped down in her seat.

He hushed her and looked around at the now-staring faces of the other cafeteria patrons.

“Listen, I know I’m the worst, but you’re probably just going to be with Bruno for most of the time anyway.”

Her face slowly erupted into a crimson shade of red as she straightened up in her chair and leaned forward, keeping her voice low, “Low blow, dude.”

“With the number of times you tease me about Isaac, who is literally only a friend, might I add, I would say this is fair enough.”

“Okay, okay, but that still doesn’t excuse you from taking extra classes. You’re only in your early twenties, Cas! Enjoy your life a little. I would kill to be your age again.”

“You are literally only 28.”

“And,” she gave him a stern look as if she made a good point. The both of them knew it wasn’t a good point at all, and they erupted in loud laughter because of it, once again shattering the quiet atmosphere. The two classmates finally settled down, and used what little time they had left of their break to try and enjoy their meals and each other’s company. After their food was gone, Audrey immediately pulled her tablet from her pocket and began fidgeting with the screen as Caspian sat there and enjoyed his coffee. He pulled his tablet from his pocket to check on the time when he noticed her dissatisfied expression.

“What’s that face for,” he chuckled.

“How long have you had your tablet?”

“About three years? Give or take.”

“You ever think about upgrading?”

“Hell no. A BF-2S would cost me 20 more seols a month. That, in total, would cost me half a month’s worth of groceries. I’ll stick to the older models. I’m even thinking about returning the school’s AF-5 if that means I get my security deposit back.”

“Cas, that’s just being a cheapskate at this point.”

“Life’s worth more than pretty phones,” he shrugged, eyeing her new BF-3S. He could have sworn she just got the BF-3 last month. He shook his head, “Besides, I’m sure I can find some paper in the black market somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes, “Who knows? I heard they pay pretty well in this area. Maybe the extra money will get you to loosen up a bit.”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “Maybe for you. You have a better shot at being hired here than me.”

“Are you kidding? My grades suck so much compared to yours. You’ll definitely have a better shot.”

“If they looked past my records.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, “That was one misdemeanor, and it wasn’t even your fault. You’re great at what you do. You’re compassionate; you’re kind. You work so hard! Those are all good qualities you need in this field.”

Her kindness was always with good intentions, but he knew deep down that those ‘qualities’ wouldn’t cut it for him. Even after scoring high on the ASAPT exam and being a perfect personality match for his career path, it still took numerous recommendations from teachers and summer volunteer mentors for the school to even consider his application. Hell, he was even going to go as far as apply for out of district programs, or worse, consider continuing working for the military. He shuddered. Nonetheless, seeing her gentle smile and looking back at all the times she had been there for him, he could at least give her a slight, crooked smile and echo a hollow thanks. His tablet pinged softly, signaling that it was time to go back. He sighed and pulled his tray towards him, making a move to leave.

“Hey, Cas. Just give me a call whenever you feel like it, okay? We can get food and drinks, and have a good time, you know? I’ll even forget about the whole ‘you owing me dinner’ thing.”

He nodded, his smile brightening up slightly, “Yeah, sure.”

The rest of the day came and went in a blur. The evening shift shuffled in, and shift-to-shift handoff was exchanged. Another successful day of helpful knowledge was stuffed into his school bag as he approached the entrance.

“See you tomorrow,” a nurse called out from behind the front desk.

He gave a small wave as he and the rest of the shift’s crew shambled out of the building in zombie-like states. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder for him to muster up the strength to make it to the transit stop. His body always threatened to crash, eyelids heavy and movements becoming more and more sluggish with each step. However, every now and then, the occasional bumping of other people’s shoulders brushing against him would jolt him awake just enough to keep going. With school taking up his weekdays and his weekends eaten up by his part-time job to keep his head above water, all he longed for was a nap.

Even a short nap would do, he yawned until something suddenly slammed into him, almost knocking him to the ground. His eyes shot open, bewildered.

“What the Hell, man,” his annoyed voice trailed off as he spotted a pair of gray eyes. Dark, stormy. They were hardened by a type of determination he had never seen before. When he finally came to and opened his mouth to say something, they vanished. He blinked and spun around, but not a single trace of them was left. All that remained were the crowds of faceless heads that bobbed along the sidewalks and a faint stench of ash. What was equally as jarring was that no one in the crowd seemed to have noticed, which made him question the authenticity of what just transpired. He craned his neck to try and peer over the group, but the increasing number of pushing pedestrians prompted him to give up on his search and keep moving forward. He sighed and readjusted his school bag, pulling out his tablet to glance at the time. He could feel his eyelids start to get heavy as he peeked at the coffee shop just across the street. The train station was only a few more minutes down the block. He was sure he could make it:

Biing-bong.

PA: “May I have your attention, please? The MPA-0312 Antiquitrain for the 17:09 CrossCountry service to Dreake will arrive shortly. For the safety of yourself and our other guests, please remain behind the turnstile until the antiquarian has come to a complete stop.”

He took a few minutes to catch his breath as the speakers continued listing off other destinations and times of departure in the background. That was the last time he messed around with time. He glanced up at one of the digital clock towers.

16:53.

Just enough time for him and several other patrons to start filing themselves in the queues. A gentle breeze fluttered past, wafting in a very faint, honey-like scent. The misplaced smell piqued his interest as he picked his head up and looked around. Nothing was too out of the ordinary, and no one in particular struck him as the type to wear such a fragrant perfume. He began to lose interest in the mysterious scent as the PA crackled to life:

Biing-bong.

PA: “May I have your attention, please? The MPA-0312 Antiquitrain for the 17:09 CrossCountry service to Dreake has arrived. Please have your PIN readily accessible to make for a smoother process for our guests.”

A silver, nine-car monorail soon came into view. The metal was clean and still new, free of any scratches or dings, and the windows were tinted nearly black, making it impossible to see inside the cars. It was faster than the previous year’s antiquitrains, and certainly more pleasant to look at than the ones closer to where he was staying. The monorail slowly came to a stop, and the doors soon opened, letting out large groups of people. Once a majority of the crowd had cleared, a loud ding chimed out, followed by a buzzer, signaling that the platform was now active. Everyone shuffled through the rotating bars one by one after pressing their wrists against the sensor on the turnstile's column. The monorail dipped ever so slightly with each passenger that boarded as it hovered above the metal rail. He set one foot onto the monorail as the scent came back. It was more potent with each passing moment as if the perfumed stranger was steadily creeping up on him. Naturally, he whipped his head up and around to scan the crowd, but to no avail. No one was advancing toward him except for a disgruntled older man who glared at him through his thick glasses.

“Hurry it up, will ya? Some of us are trying to get home.”

He frowned slightly, but quickly sniffed in the stranger’s direction just to be sure. The scent still lingered, but it was faint now. And just as it had come, it soon dissipated:

PA: “The MPA-0312 Antiquitrain for Dreake will be departing soon. Please ensure all your belongings are safely secured as the antiquitrain accelerates and decelerates at a rapid speed.”

He lazily reached up to grasp the hanging handrail as the doors slid closed, but barely missed as the monorail suddenly lurched forward. He stumbled and almost collapsed into a young woman that was sitting beside him. He quickly regained his composure and apologized profusely, his face burning red. After several more apologies, he slumped into his seat, trying to bury himself in his scrubs as a few passengers near him softly chuckled. After the embarrassment finally wore off, he decided to busy himself by scrolling through his school tablet. A few assignments weren’t due for another few days, but he figured if he got a headstart on them now, he might have more time to compose himself before his weekend shift. However, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the document displayed before him, he couldn’t get his brain to refocus on his assignments. His thoughts constantly drifted between school, clinical rotations, and his future before finally settling on who that stranger who ran into him was. Why was he in such a hurry? How come no one else noticed him?

“Attention, passengers of MPA-0312,” the PA softly announced in the background as he pondered his thoughts. He didn’t pay any mind to the announcement that warned the passengers of their arrival, which he would soon regret as the monorail suddenly came to a halt and launched him into the back of a now very disgruntled passenger.

Tags for general Project Gemini content(comment to be +/-):

@the-ellia-west @honeybewrites @the-letterbox-archives @the-golden-comet @athenadire @yourpenpaldee

[elysianstarl1ght]

The Night I Lied to You

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

"You're lying." There it is... They were expecting that. He gestured towards his bed, hidden behind a set of black silky curtains with the rectangular frame wrapped in sparkling fairy lights. "Sit."

Freminet did as they were told. What more could they do? Besides, they were not complaining. It wasn't the time to act. That adrenaline rush was long gone, leaving their bruised legs trembling to a point Freminet wasn’t so sure they could stand for much longer. It did not take long before Lyney had seated himself beside Freminet, routinely taking their hand in his own as he begun to inspect the damage done. Although unable to fully see it, the hovering presence of Lyney's hands over their bruised neck and legs didn't escape them.

"Tell me really; what happened?" Lyney questioned again, albeit with more force. Then came a different question, before Freminet could even respond to his first.

"Who, or what, did this to you?"

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

characters : Freminet (they/them), Lyney (he/him), Lynette (she/her) (mentioned briefly)

tags : family fluff, comfort, no angst

warnings : a little major character injury (nothing severe), Lyney not-so-subtly threatening people

wordcount : 1,198

a/n : first time I've posted writing on tumblr, and also the first time I've properly written these characters so please bare with any mischaracterization!! anyway enjoy <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52085725

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

Wiping the steady trickle of crimson from their mouth, the diver took a deep breath as they came to their older brother's bedroom door. The door loomed over them, decorated in red ribbons, poker cards and glittering silver coins, such a mystical appearance that for once sent a chill down their spine. How would they even begin to explain what had transpired previously, especially knowing of the magician's overprotective nature? Ah, Freminet had no idea. Thinking was a daunting task with the ringing in their ears and the fuzziness of their vision. It was only a matter of time until--

The creak of a door swinging open sent their heart plummeting to the pits of Teyvat.

Wide eyed like a deer in the headlights, Freminet stared up at those sharp lavender eyes. They didn't have time to react before they were ushered into the room, Lyney barely sparing a second at the sight of the bruised and bloodied diver. Having experienced this time and time again, they knew any moment now, the questions would come flooding.

"What happened?" Lyney whispered, taking both of Freminet's gloved hands in his. His attempts at keeping the panic in his voice at bay had been proving futile.

"I..."  shoot. What to say? "I got caught in some crossfire while diving. Just some- some hunter rays fighting." they hoped that would be enough. Judging by the look on Lyney's face though, probably not.

"You're lying." There it is... They were expecting that. He gestured towards his bed, hidden behind a set of black silky curtains with the rectangular frame wrapped in sparkling fairy lights. "Sit."

Freminet did as they were told. What more could they do? Besides, they were not complaining. It wasn't the time to act. That adrenaline rush was long gone, leaving their bruised legs trembling to a point Freminet wasn’t so sure they could stand for much longer. It did not take long before Lyney had seated himself beside Freminet, routinely taking their hand in his own as he begun to inspect the damage done. Although unable to fully see it, the hovering presence of Lyney's hands over their bruised neck and legs didn't escape them.

"Tell me really; what happened?" Lyney questioned again, albeit with more force. Then came a different question, before Freminet could even respond to his first.

"Who, or what, did this to you?"

Oh, they could hear the resentment bubbling beneath the surface of that calm tone of voice. There was no point in lying, all it would do was provoke the magician. And with a raspy voice,

"I got into a fight." Freminet confessed. The very moment they opened their mouth, the steady trickle of blood continued to ooze at the corner of their lips. This time, they couldn't be bothered to wipe it away.

The silence was crushing. Freminet didn't expect the white and red walls of the bedroom to be more suffocating than the water pressure at seafloor. All that disturbed it was the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat, steadily increasing as seconds ticked on.

"Let’s get you patched up first." and with that, Freminet let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. At least they had time to think up some way to answer the next inevitable big question. Lyney already had reached into the med kit, digging out a variety of medical supplies to begin treatment.

The following few minutes were consistent of that same tense lack of noise between the siblings as Lyney begun treating the wounds. Freminet never would get over how cautious Lyney was whilst treating his loved ones; the way he moves so delicately, as though they were a glass antique, priceless and fragile. It was a nice contrast to the stress-inducing, pressuring events they'd had the misfortune of enduring earlier that day.

"So... Where's Lynette?"

"She's out picking up props." Lyney replied, his tone lighter than previously. "I had some new tricks planned for our next show, I want to do more, well, flashy stuff."

"By that you mean...?" Freminet tilted their head to the left, wincing as the sting of antiseptic made contact with an open cut. Through gritted teeth, they muttered, "your shows are already very... Flashy."

"Yes, but I was thinking more balance-oriented acts." now that got their interest. "Lynette and I have great balance... Well, er, moreso her than I, but you get the point. I don't know what exactly we're going to do, but you know, trial and error always gets us places."

"Right." oh, how many times had they witnessed the spectacle that is Lyney and Lynette's Trial-and-Error Shows, as the siblings call it? It ranged from anything to mesmerizing perfection, something worthy of the biggest stages on Teyvat, to an explosive disaster that leads to either injuries or broken props. But that's the fun of magic, right? Unpredictable in every way, even to the magicians performing it. "And I assume I’ll be your audience?"

"But of course!" A hand affectionately ruffled through Freminet's already messed up hair. Then, to their surprise, a set of nails begun to comb through their messy strands of light blond hair. "Your opinion is always a great help."

Their heart might as well have stopped. Just as casually as Lyney said that he changed the topic. "So, how do you feel?"

Freminet hadn't realized just how quickly Lyney had gone through the treatment process. As they felt around their bandaged neck, they, well, couldn't help but be impressed.

"Better." the world was still hazy, but they didn't want to worry Lyney more than they already had. They added swiftly, "thank you."

All that they received was a "mm-hm." and with that, their heart sunk.

"So..."

There it is.

"Who?"

Freminet bit their bottom lip. One word, spoken so innocently, but with a threat lingering underneath it. Classic Lyney. They had lied to Lyney's face so many times, but the magician always managed to see through it like Freminet were made of glass. At least, most of the time.

"It… was another diver." they murmured. Lyney didn't interject, but they could hear him tensing. "It was- it was somebody recently hired by the fishing association, but I think they got fired." Freminet paused. "And no, I didn't get a name."

"What about... An appearance?" they knew that was coming. "Any notable details?"

"I don't remember."

Seconds went by, feeling like hours to Freminet. They could feel his gaze burning daggers into them, and it was only though sheer willpower that Freminet didn't break. Lyney eventually sighed, shrugging with his hands. "Oh well, can't be helped, I suppose. Don't worry about it." a glint lit up Lyney's lavender colored eyes. "Say- how about we go catch up with Lynette? If you're feeling up to it, of course!"

Freminet knew damn well that Lynette would immediately be informed of what happened, if she didn't already know by some weird psychic identical twin thing. She always seems to know. "Sure... I guess."

Not a second was wasted before Lyney dragged poor Freminet out of the room, ushering them along with sparkling eyes.

That lie about the other diver worked like a charm, didn't it?

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

what's your favorite decade for car design?

the 1980s for SURE. i’m head over heels for those sharp angles, and my next car will likely be from the 80s. i love pop up headlights and pickups that looks like kids drawings and big rectangular sedans and boxy wagons and wedge shaped sports cars so so much

50s are a close second though, i love both ostentatious chrome-encrusted pastel american cars and graceful aerodynamic handsome european roadsters so so much

[youhavehitawall]

My fairest ladies, Cass, Reg's older sister, and Dusk, her wonderful spouse who she loves very dearly.

Cass is very straightforward and a bit rough, but very kind, in her own way. She has a brawny strength for towing and refines it to garden and cook. She's greatly patient to match her stubbornness, rarely takes offence, and is quick to forgive.

Dusk is gentler but more temperamental. She has an excellent memory. She carves wood in her free time, and runs a club for other carvers, because she's also insufferably social. She loves working with numbers as well, and can be overbearingly protective at times.

Image description in the alt text; an ID of Cass and Dusk is under the cut!

[ID: Cass is a custom model Ute, mostly square with large bolted wheel arches. She has no visible headlights, a yellow fabric hat, and a flat orange spoiler that sticks up from the back of her tray. She has small square rearview mirrors, one a light grey, the other a dark grey. Her hood, rear wheel arch, and lipstick is bright orange. Her main body is a pale tan, her door is a darker tan, and her tray body is bright yellow. Her tongue is also bright yellow. Her tires and grille are dark grey. Her rims, window and windshield are lime green.

Dusk is a 1969 Fairlane ZD sedan. She has a large, dark grey, rectangular grille. Her headlights are round and stack vertically. The center of her grille has a V shape embossed on it. She has a thick chrome bumper as her bottom lip which curves around to her front wheelarches, with a bright pink, blank, numberplate in the middle. She has venetian blinds in her rear windows and a thick rectangular tailfin, and her rear bumper and side skirting is chrome. Her wheels are dark grey with white rims and pink walls. She is mostly pink, with a white roof and purple sides in a simple two-tone, split with chrome trim. End ID.]

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 Zagato, 1967 (2019). This is the fully restored Zagato prototype. Chassis No. 7T02A201813 rolled off the assembly line at the New Jersey plant on Feb. 21, 1967, before being shipped to Italy. Though the Carello rectangular headlights have been retained the wrap-over rear window of the 1967 Zagato concept has been replaced by more conventional fastback styling. Despite this the restored car has been given Zagato, ASI and FIVA certification. Pictured below is a photograph of the original car parked in front of the factory in 1967, found in the Zagato archives.

[atcmicbxtty]

@bledbetrayl sent: ❝ And where do you think you’re going? ❞ - Things I've said to/about my cat prompts - Always Accepting !

Green eyes stared at Lestat with a terrified gaze; her body was frozen - she looked like a deer in the headlights. It was late, almost two in the morning, and last minute - Betty had a mission. She was not aware what the mission was, but Betty knew she could not slack - she had to be there as soon as possible. So, she grabbed her cell phone and put on her sneakers - heading to the front door. And just when she thought she could sneak out successfully - there was Lestat. Crap.

Her communicator was wrapped around her left wrist, a bright white light shined on its small rectangular screen. 'Atomic Betty, are you almost to the ship? Please, hurry!' A static voice was heard from the communicator, causing the redhead to slowly close her eyes. Double crap.

Slowly, her eyes opened as she pulled her wrist towards her face; her finger pressed on the small button on her communicator. "Atomic Betty, speaking - just give me a minute, Sparky." Her gaze remained on Lestat as she spoke. How the heck was she suppose to explain this to him? Better yet, would he actually keep this a secret? No one could know - Heck, not even her parents knew.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

The Orbitron

The Orbitron is a custom car built by Ed Roth and feared lost until its rediscovery in Mexico in 2007

A second generation to Roth's original Beatnik Bandit, which was built in 1960, the Beatnik Bandit II features a one-of-a-kind fiberglass body with PPG lemon meringue pie paint, stylized Rat Fink designs on the sides, and chrome by Metal Masters of Salt Lake City, UT. 

Beatnik Bandit II includes many unique design features, including an electronic console which operates the digital instrument panel and other features such as a digital readout of the car's latitude and longitude. 

The lack of a rearview mirror is not a problem on this car. A "TV mirror" video monitor is mounted on the console with the actual camera mounted in the rear panel. The bubble top is also lifted electronically. 

Beatnik Bandit II was built entirely by Roth, who credits "Revelations from Father in Heaven" for his achievement. The car has been shown in major U. S. cities, including Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston, as well as in Yokohama, Japan.

The Beatnik Bandit

Ed 'Big Daddy' Roth was an artist, cartoonist, illustrator, pinstriper and custom car designer and builder who created the hot-rod icon Rat Fink and other characters. Roth was a key figure in Southern California's Kustom Kulture and hot-rod movement of the late 1950s and 1960s The Beatnik Bandit was one of his first creations from the early 1960s. It was built from a 1949 Oldsmobile, the chassis was shortened 5 feet, the Olds engine was given the classic hotrod look with GMC blower and twin carbys, everything was chromed except the blower belt. The white interior featured single joystick, that operated turning, throttle and braking. The bubble top was created using compressed air to inflate a sheet of plastic into a dome in a pizza oven. On display at the National Automobile Museum in Reno

Mysterion

Ed Roth built the Mysterion in 1963, he got the idea from the multi engine dragsters he had seen at the dragstrips. He combined two Ford engines, two transmissions, plus two welded rear ends for the foundation. It featured an offset headlight and the typical Ed Roth bubble top. On display at Galpin Auto Sports.

The Road Agent by Ed “Big Daddy” Roth.

Mysterion

Custom builder and artist Ed "Big Daddy" Roth completed the Mysterion in 1963. The bubbletopped custom featured a completely original fiberglass body and twin Ford big-block engines. The weight of the engines was too much for the frame to bear, and the Mysterion fell apart. Tribute versions have been built, including this precise replica from Galpin Auto Sports.

The Surfink

The Surfink, created by Mark Glaz as a tribute to Ed Roth and Ratfink, features a large Ratfink figure atop a surfboard complete with a blown V-8 engine.

The Orbitron

Built in 1964, the vehicle was powered by a 1955 or 1956 Chevrolet V8 and was backed by a Powerglide automatic transmission. The body was hand-laid fiberglass, hiding Roth's extensive chrome work to the chassis. The cockpit, set at the extreme rear of the vehicle in the manner of a dragster, was lined with fake fur and featured an 11-inch General Electric "1-Touch" portable television inserted in the console. Topping the cockpit was a custom-made, hydraulically operated Plexiglas bubble top. One of a series of ordinary doorbell push-button switches atop the hood activated the top from the outside.

Other mechanical features included a 1956 Chevrolet rear end, dropped Ford front axle beam, Buickbrake drums and early Ford brakes. The frame was handmade of rectangular 2x4 inch steel tubing. The engine was a leftover from one of Roth's 1955 Chevrolets, having been removed to make way for a then-new Mark IV big-block given to him by General Motors. It was one of the very few completed cars Roth deemed to be a "mistake" because he felt the car did not show well since the heavily chromed engine and most of the chassis were hidden. The Orbitron was, in fact, one of his few customs to have a hood. Reportedly, the hydraulically operated hood did not fit well due to rushed fiberglass work.

The vehicle's most distinctive feature was its asymmetrical front end with red, green and blue tinted headlamps. It was thought that the three beams when combined would produce an intense white light; the idea came from the then-new medium of color television.

By Jerry Thompson - originally posted to Flickr as 2C7O4069, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5973582

By Jerry Thompson - originally posted to Flickr as 2C7O4066, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5973591

The Baja Bandeeto

Custom car builder and renowned painter Fritz ‘Spritz By Fritz‘ Schenck recreated with his bubble top roadster; the Baja Bandeeto.

[curator-on-ao3]

⭐️ Star ⭐️

Oh! Thank you so much for this opportunity, @divinemissem13! 💕

For the “fanfic director’s cut” meme, I want to talk about Your Voice Takes Me Home, a Pikeuna one-shot that’s about going home to someone we love at the end of a long day. It’s also about the history of:

Star Trek

feminism/women in the workplace

telephony

women’s fashion

the light bulb

Okay, so, yeah. A lot is going on here. The story is a modern AU in which Una calls Chris to let him know she’s leaving work to come home to him … through the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s. In other words, every decade from the filming of “The Cage” (when Una says she’s on her way) until the premiere of Strange New Worlds (when she finally gets home to Chris). The rectangular lit-up train station Chris reaches in the 2010s (that Una has been in before) symbolizes Chris as a main character in Star Trek: Discovery (while Una guest stars a few times). The “box of light” that is the garage of their home symbolizes both of them as main characters in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. (I figure their appearances in Short Treks work between those two.)

I’ve had people ask me, within the universe of the story, what’s up with the slip-sliding through time, if Chris and Una are immortal beings or stuck in some sort of temporal punishment or what. The answer in my head is that every decade has a Chris and Una. Every decade has their togetherness and their kindness toward each other and their gentle love — a connection forged in the 1960s and back on our TV screens in the 2020s. The Chrisses and the Unas all love each other and all get home to each other safely, in every decade. We only get to see them reunite in the 2020s, but they always make it home to each other because that’s what everyone should have — safety at home, whether that’s with another person or a pet or a plant or peace and quiet or joyful chaos. What Chris and Una want — and get — should be universal: home. (Kathryn Janeway has entered the chat.)

Research for this story was wild. I had to find out how car phones worked. I needed to know what emoji were available in the 2010s. I looked up professions popular for women in each decade, when LED light bulbs began, what typewriter covers were made of, and so much more. The location of the story is purposefully left amorphous so Chris and Una are more relatable, but I picture their house in Long Island, New York.

Things I think about often: Chris lovingly scolding Una for texting and driving, Una’s clothing in each decade, the sweep of Una’s headlights as she turns from the street into the driveway, the horseshoe on their home as a testament to Chris standing up to his dad.

I worked really hard on sensory details — the teacher’s lounge sofa that sighs a cigarette smoke smell, the tick-tack sound of Una’s turn signal, the rubbery buttons on the plastic car phone, the rushing river of white of perpendicular traffic in the night.

It also was important to me that Chris’ moods affect Una because I think that happens in canon … and when people love each other.

Anyway, I feel like this is a “simple” story about going home, but also a meta commentary that touches on a lot of things that are important to me.

So, yeah. Your Voice Takes Me Home. Thank you again for giving me a chance to talk about this one, @divinemissem13 — it means a lot to me. ❤️

[ask-theyellowcrown]

[A follower adorned with a red shirt and hat approaches the nearest cliff. They have a large black rectangular prism on the left side of their hip. They stare out into the headlights of the surrounding world, their stance upright. They proceed to speak up, the voice showing little to no emotion.]

"Time to take a piss."

[A beam of a solid, unknown yellow substance shoots out in an instant. As quick as it appeared, it disappears completely. They still blankly stare out towards the cliff side.]

*she appears right behind them, looking confused*

[revenant-coining]

Ifyouleavelyrica

[pt: Ifyouleavelyrica /end pt]

[ID: a rectangular flag with 6 equally-sized horizontal lines with a thick line in the middle. colors in this order from top to bottom: black-green, dark grey, grey, brown, grey, dark grey, black-green. End ID]

for hero

Ifyouleavelyrica: a gender connected to the lyrics: “If you leave today, I'll just stare at the way/The orange touches all things around/The grass, trees, and dew, how I just hate you/Please turn those headlights around” from the song Something in the Orange by Zach Bryan. this might be the lyrics themself and/or how they were sung.

Etymology: if you leave, lyrica

@radiomogai , @imawanokiwaaa

[ID: a purple-pink line divider. in the center is a purple-pink circle outline in purple, with a purple play-button in the center. End ID]