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sophiamcdougall · 1 year ago

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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fading-event-608 · 7 months ago

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Recently the syndicate of chemists in Lebanon has issued a statement warning people to not go near the blast sites due to alleged use of depleted uranium by Israel. (link - you need to scroll till the statement in Arabic). The screenshot of their statement on twitter was shared here on Tumblr and I’ve seen multiple people expressing scepticism regarding the source. Some people linked an article (link) from anti-Hezbollah 'democratic' newspaper 'L’Orient Today' to ‘fact-check’ - because of course they can’t read Arabic and are discontent with a twitter link.

This is my short summary of the article: they confirm that Israel has used Depleted Uranium (DU) weapons, not only in Lebanon but also in Gaza in June of this year and between October and December of last year. They establish a history of the use of Depleted Uranium, and include examples of its use in Iran in 2003. Israel doesn't directly talk about their use of DU, but neither are they hiding it - because there is no law that forbids the use of these bombs by Israel, there is no treaty regulating the use of DU weapons. There were several resolutions calling for a moratorium on the use of DU weapons in the UN and EU Parliament, the latest of which was in 2022, but these have failed to stop their use (those who have used them also includes both Russia and Ukraine). The article ends with an ominous addition that the Israeli army has been found guilty multiple times of using white phosphorus, which IS prohibited against civilians or civilian property under international law. (You probably can already tell that their defense is that they do not use it against civilians)

There is another article that was published in early September this year - LINK - I highly encourage you to read this one yourself, as it is quite short, especially when considering the amount of information it contains. As this one is more easily accessible, I won’t summarize it - please take it in yourself. I will say, however, that this article’s author, one Dr. Busby, worked with colleagues to conduct several investigations into the use of uranium-based weapons in both Lebanon and Gaza. In 2006, Dr. Busby asked his colleague to collect multiple samples from a crater left by what was suspected to be Depleted Uranium weapons. Samples from an ambulance air filter were also taken. Dr. Busby and company found not only the presence of depleted uranium but also of Enriched Uranium. Here’s the paper: link.

Enriched Uranium. In 2006.

By 2024, all of the laboratories that Dr. Busby had used to Conduct the investigation have closed their doors either to him or in general. Busby’s letters to the UN, as well as papers detailing evidence of the use of enriched and depleted uranium are either dismissed or ignored, rendering it unlikely that there will ever be the “official” source for these claims that certain people now see fit to demand. And even if the UN did accept those letters and did push for ban of those weapons - would Israel comply? Genocide is ‘illegal’ under international law, and Israel still faces the case in ICJ, but what will that ICJ do if they rule that Israel is guilty? What would UN do if they accept evidence of Israel using uranium-based weapons? Scold them and write a fine?

The aspect of the deployment of nuclear weapons considered the most horrific is - and has always been - the fallout. The idea that all nuclear weapons would leave evidence - again, fallout - behind was born into the cultural consciousness through various cold war era PSAs, as well as other media inspired by these horrors, potential and otherwise. The weapons Israel is using here do not create fallout, however. But do not mistake them as harmless - they are still highly carcinogenic. They cause birth defects, as well as various other illnesses - mysterious illnesses, or at least mysterious until doctors attempting to treat them register that their patients have been exposed to enriched uranium, after which point the mystery goes away.

In a sense, the horrors advertised by cold war PSAs and films like Doctor Strangelove, the promise of some explosive end brought about by some fool in the US pushing the wrong button - these serve to draw a veil over the continued use of nuclear weapons that have been ongoing since this technology was first harnessed for violence. This is a severe danger to the people of Gaza, and we can’t ignore it simply because we have developed in our minds too much faith in the loosest understandings of nuclear warfare.

I think many of you are familiar with a boiling frog story. The story goes that if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will try to climb out. But if you put it in warm water and very slowly heat it, it will be so accustomed to the temperature it will eventually be boiled alive. It’s not very authentic, of course - in reality the frog will try to jump out as soon as it deems the water temperature uncomfortable. Just like you would try to get out of the bathtub as soon as it gets too hot for you or try to warm yourself up when you spend too much time outside in winter.

But some of it still rings true. At what point will the UN, or ICJ, or some other white savior wannabe decide that Israel has done too much? What is that ‘too-much’ point that makes them try to protest, and what would that protest be?

As in case with Tumblr, it seems that the boiling point, in fact, has already passed and people grew accustomed to deaths of Palestinians. There are thousands of posts about the situation in Gaza, and the whole Palestine, Lebanon, Yemen, Syria… They get a lot of attention by both zionists and Palestine supporters. There are also hundreds of Gazans that came to Tumblr in hopes to escape the genocide by asking people to cover evacuation and survival costs. Do they get the same attention? Barely. Arguably zionists are more invested in interacting with those posts - they mass report them and harass Palestinians. And even if the fundraiser post gets a lot of attention, it does not necessarily translate into a lot of donations - people just assume that someone else will donate instead of them.

You can’t stop Israel all by yourself. You can’t convince the UN or try to progress the ICJ case by yourself. You can, however, do small acts that will contribute to Palestinian resistance. Go protest, go boycott, and please, please, please, go donate to Palestinian fundraisers.

Falastin’s family are under constant threat in Gaza. She’s been fundraising to save them since late June, and yet they’ve only recently gotten to just over 5% of their total goal - a little short of $10,000 USD. They��re still in Gaza, and still in need of funds for survival. The longer they are trapped there, the more they need - not just for food and water, but also for medicine, shelter, and clothes. Each time they’re displaced, due to inadequate time to pack, they lose more supplies, and their needs increase. Give what you can so that they can survive this, and please share their fundraiser as much as you’re able regardless of whether you can donate, just in case someone you know might be able to help. Not just here on Tumblr, on other social media, talk to your friends, coworkers, family, in group chats and in discord servers.

Please keep in mind conversion rates before donating:

10$ = 103 SEK

25$ = 260 SEK

50$ = 519 SEK

100$ = 1,038 SEK

#free palestine #falastin

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nkjemisin · 2 months ago

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Fiction is not reality

Got three or four asks lately about an old Le Guin-inspired short story, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight." Did somebody post an article or something? I haven't gotten any alerts that would explain the sudden interest. (Did see one annoying AI-written summary that hallucinated new characters into it and said I'd written it in 1973, when I would've been one year old. Don't use AI for lit crit, folks.)

Anyway, rather than answer them individually, I'll post this as a collective response.

All of the asks were about the story's meaning, in one way or another, so I'll start there -- but. Y'all. The author is usually the worst person to ask about what their work means; haven't you heard that the author is dead? We're too close to our own work to do good analysis. I can tell you what inspired it, or what I was thinking while I wrote it, but that doesn't mean I put all that into the story, or successfully got across whatever did make it in. Pretty often my writing doesn't mean anything; it's just something I need to get out of my head.

The asks seem to center on whether I actually intended Um-Helat to be a utopia, and -- no. I thought it was pretty obviously a dystopia, actually, like Omelas... but then I constantly run into people who describe Omelas as a utopia, so maybe the problem lies with people's definition of "utopia." (Personally I don't believe utopias are possible IRL. Anytime you've got more than one person in a society, their respective visions of an "ideal" society will vary, and sometimes conflict.) I was exploring my own struggle with envisioning a society free of bigotry, and Le Guin's narrative -- which gently pokes at the reader's skepticism and jadedness -- spoke to me in that moment of need. So I decided to do some poking of my own, from a different angle, to see if that helped clarify anything for me. I liked the result enough to publish it in How Long Til Black Future Month, tho it's since been reprinted in many places.

That said, a couple of the asks went to a weird place, and I feel like I need to address it. You folks do know that a story's narrative voice is not the same as the author's voice, right? So for example, in "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," the omniscient first-person narrator of the story is not Le Guin. What that narrator believes is not necessarily what Le Guin believes, or vice versa. She didn't tell you about the abused child in Omelas because she thought it was A-OK to abuse kids as scapegoats/representations of the evils of the world. Likewise, I didn't tell you about the traumatized child in Um-Helat because I think it's A-OK to stab possible bigots. The narrator is another part of the story. It's fiction, not an essay, or a confessional.

It feels weird to have to say this, because it seems so obvious to me... but we are on the "piss on the poor" site, after all, in a time when critical thinking is under literal attack from The Powers That Be, so I guess I gotta. I do not stab people, not even bigots. I am not pro-stabbing or pro-childhood trauma. I am somewhat pro-transdimensional-travel, but that's neither here nor there.

Oh -- and sidenote, but I've been ridiculously busy lately, and I'm working through the backlog of asks very slowly. If you've sent in something, I will hopefully get to it within a month or two. Hopefully.

#answered asks #short fiction

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multifandomgirl08 · 1 month ago

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The End of An Era [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: A chapter all about Max's retirement from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: Finished writing this during qualifying of Abu Dhabi 2024.

Words: 2.8k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

October, 2029

It had been a quiet night in. Max had been unusually quiet during dinner. Nikita was asking Max questions about helping him put his train set back together since he had found out how to take it apart. Nico ended up changing the subject pulling Niki into talking about the model car sets that he had gotten for his 9th birthday. Nik was sitting in his high chair eating, and you were holding Nicole as she drank from her bottle after eating her way through a packet of rice crackers.

You had helped Max clear the table while Sophie had taken the kids into the family room downstairs to watch a movie. Max was cleaning the dishes, and putting everything into the dishwasher. You had put away the last of the leftovers, and looking back you saw how tense Max's shoulders were.

You walked up behind him, placing one of your hands at his side before pressing yourself up against his back, almost as if his broad shoulders were sheltering you from the outside world.

Max stopped scrubbing at the pan, gripping the sponge in his hand. You pressed your chin into the back of his left shoulder.

“You okay?” You asked.

Max gave what looked like half a nod back before you heard the sponge drop into the sink with an almost audible Splat. He moved to turn around, and moved back only slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about retiring.” He said leaning back against the marble counter. You widened your eyes at his words. You didn’t know that this was on Max’s mind. You knew that he had another year on his contract with Red Bull, you just thought that when Red Bull offered him a new contract you could talk about it then, not now.

“Do you want to retire?” The current season wasn’t over for another month. If he wanted he could call it quits this year, Red Bull would have to take the hit for his contract.

“Maybe after next year.” Max moved his hands down to your sides, pulling you into his chest. His hands, although wet, were warm against the loose shirt that you wore. “They are like family to me. I can’t do that to Christian, or anyone in that garage.”

You would never ask Max to retire. It wasn’t your place. He loved racing and you would never ask him to give it up. You know that Red Bull had become like a family to Max. Christian and Geri were like a second set of parents in a way. Not just when it came to Max, but they were also a set of grandparents to your kids.

“Always, I’ve wanted to do more than just Formula 1. But now, with the kids…” He started to say and then stopped himself dropping his eyes down to the floor. “I also want to be home and spend time with them. Maybe racing in a category with a shorter schedule would be for the best.”

“You could always take time off,” As the words left your mouth, you could see Max’s brows furrow in discontent, quickly lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Not now, but once you want to retire or you feel like you’re ready. Take six months off before jumping into anything new.”

You had to think back to when you had thought about no longer working and staying home with the kids full-time, but ultimately you loved your job and thought you would be setting a better example for your kids in the long run. It was about 4 months after Nik was born. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave your kids with a sitter all day even if you had been working from home. Your job still took time away from them. So, you took a few months of letting someone handle a few of your clients, and not long after you found out you were pregnant with Nicole. Sometimes it was hard working with both yours and Max’s schedule but you always managed to find a way to make it work.

“I will be out of shape if I choose to get back into racing after.” You could tell that Max was running the logistics over in his head, weighing the pros and cons of stopping for a while.

“You can always hire a trainer.” There were probably hundreds of trainers who would kill to work with Max to get him into racing shape for whatever he chose to do after Formula 1.

“I don’t know.” He said at first as if he was going to move to hang his head, dropping his chin to his chest. He pulled his head up quickly. “Them, you, mean everything to me.”

Max pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It is a year away.” He muttered into your hair. “I will figure something out by then.”

“Whatever you want to do Max, we’ll be there.” You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the white gold band of the Rolex that you had gotten him just after Nikita was born. It no longer had three birthdays engraved on it but five now.

NEWS

Eight-time champion Max Verstappen to retire from Formula 1 at the end of the 2030 season

F1 Corresponder & Journalist D'Angelo Markus

14th August, 2030

It was announced earlier today that after the end of the 2030 season, Max Verstappen would not be coming back in 2031 with a new contract from Red Bull.

The Dutchman, who made his debut with Scuderia AlphaTauri at the 2017 Australian Grand Prix. Verstappen was the youngest driver to ever make an F1 debut at the age of 17, a record that he will now forever hold as the FIA had changed that particular rule because of him.

Verstappen won all eight of his championships with Red Bull, four from 2021-2024 and the remaining four from 2026-2029 and is first on the all-time list of Grand Prix winners with 115 victories.

WATCH: Max Verstappen’s 10 Best Overtakes

Verstappen had a few tough years when he was first called up to Red Bull resulting in various engine failures. With the regulation changes, Red Bull and Max were able to capitalize on them pulling out various championship wins with Max at the helm season after season.

Ahead of the Belgian Grand Prix, Verstappen - who races alongside Isack Hadjar - announced that this would be his 15th and final season in Formula 1.

“My championship runs were very different from one another. The first four were in no way easy despite what 2023 looked like. There were constant obstacles from not just outside people but the team as well.” Verstappen said. “The last four were very different as my family was growing as the championships were happening. The team always had my back and year after year were able to give me the best possible car to compete with.”

“I wish them all the best in for the coming season. Being able to work with Adrian [Newey] when he was here, Christian [Horner], Helmut [Marco] who believed in me when I was younger, and GP [Gianpiero Lambiase] who has been a great engineer to work with.”

READ MORE: ‘I have so much more to offer racing then just being a driver.’ - Read Verstappen’s retirement statement in full

When asked about why he was retiring he had this to say, “I’ve achieved so much during my time in Formula 1, but after having won eight championships and being able to achieve that. It’s time to focus on my family. I love this sport and I won’t ever stop racing in some way. But it’s time to watch my children grow and be there to support them in their chosen endeavors.”

On the cusp of winning his 7th world championship, Verstappen’s daughter Nicole was born on the Monday before Verstappen would head to Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season. She’s the youngest of the four children that he has, three of them with his wife Y/N Verstappen. At the time there was a rumor that Verstappen wouldn’t be in Abu Dhabi because of his wife giving birth.

“I thought when my daughter was born I wouldn’t win the championship that year. I wasn’t even sure if I would go to the race, but my wife said, ‘Go, it’s a few days she will be without you but when you come home, even if you don’t win. You will get to hold her and know that you did your best during the race because you were fighting to come back to us.’ She was right, I fought hard to come home to them and walked away with the championship as a result.”

The points race was close that year by a small margin compared to years past being very reminiscent of his first World Drivers Championship in 2021.

After winning and accepting the trophy, Verstappen was quick to leave the track and fly back home to be with his wife and the new addition to his family. The day after he had won the championship, he posted a picture with his family after he was back home in Belgium. His daughter in one of his arms with a glass of champagne in his other hand, in celebration of his recent win with his wife by his side. His three other children were absent from that particular picture.

“Another long season, another win to share with those I love most.” His caption read.

“It will be tough to say goodbye to the team that I have known for my whole career in the sport. I am still a part of the Red Bull family, I will just be racing in a different category in the coming months if everything goes well.”

“I feel like I have so much more to offer racing then just being a driver, I have my own team ‘Verstappen.com’ where sim drivers have the opportunity to go from racing online to being in a real car. It’s something that I’ve been passionate about for years and I’m very excited for this to further come to fruition now that I will have more time to focus on that.” Verstappen said when he was asked what he plans to do after Formula 1.

November 24, 2030

Max didn’t think this day would ever come. Y/N and the kids were in the paddock today for his last race in Formula 1. Nico had been hanging out with Christian for most of the morning on the pitwall, Niki and Nik were with GP in the garage, and Nicole was holding Y/N’s hands. His daughter who had just turned two a few days ago had slipped away into Max’s arms tugging at his race suit wanting to be picked up.

“Papa,” She whined, with a tug of his sleeve. Max lifted her up and placed her on the table in front of all of the screens. Nicole pressed her face into his shoulder while he was talking with Jonathan. He tried to keep one of his hands on Nicole’s back while he was trying to explain something with his hands that had happened during qualifying the day before.

About 20 minutes later, Y/N and the kids were behind the viewing area in the garage. He fist bumped the boys, kissed Nicole on her forehead, and quickly kissed Y/N on the lips while running his finger over her chin. He pulled away from them putting his balaclava on, then slipped on his helmet before climbing into the car.

Getting through the race would easy. He was starting on Pole.

“Radio check for the last time Max.” He heard GP say.

“Loud and clear, GP.” He said. GP told him that it would start in a minute, and he could see the other mechanics pull the tire covers away from the car and some leaving to go back behind the pitwall and the others back to the garage. He was given the all clear for the formation lap, drove around the track before he was back before the start line. Another minute and it would be lights out and away we go for the last time when it came to racing in Formula 1.

Max kept his eyes on the track, taking in GP as he told him about engine settings during the race. He called for a pit stop for new tires, and Max finished off that lap before coming in. He had sat in the car, watching the mechanics work before he was off again out of the pit lane and onto the track again.

He overtook a few of the younger drivers on the grid, Doohan, Bearman, Piastri… Pink, Red, Orange…

“Max, strat 7, strat 7.” He heard GP over the radio. He immediately pressed the needed button on his steering wheel and made the adjustment that GP gave him.

A few laps later there was a yellow flag called, debris needed to be cleared off the track after a collision between Williams and Audi. Then before Max knew it GP was in his ear again, “Okay Max it’s up to you. You can come in for fresh tires and go for a fast lap or just ride it out till the end.”

Max knew what that meant. One last lap. He didn’t even have to think, “I’ll box for softs.”

“Box then.” GP replied.

Max kept driving before he made it to the pitlane and then drove through for a set of fresh softs. He met the mechanics, felt the car go up for a moment, the used mediums being taken off the car and the new set of softs be bolted on before the car was placed back down. It took him half a second to start driving to exit out of the pitlane. He exited the pitlane, and then did everything that he could to push for one last fastest lap. Max knew that he was pushing the car as much as it would let him, but he couldn’t help but feel that everything was slowing down as he got to the start of the long straight of the track.

The track was clear ahead of him. He kept on until he knew that he had made it across the line and the checkered flag had been waved.

“Max,” He heard Christian in his ears. “Thank you for everything you’ve done over the years mate. What a way to finish off your last race in F1, Pole, top step of the podium, and a fastest lap. It’s been a pleasure.”

Max knew that Christian was just saying this for the radio message. He would be seeing Christian in about a week for Niki’s birthday, and then again for the FIA Prize Giving.

“Yeah, thank you Christian. It’s been a ride. I said that I wanted to do this for 10 to 15 years more, so these years with the team have meant so much. Sending my best to the team, I’ll miss seeing them.”

Max kept driving before he finally heard GP chime in. “Well done, Max. It’s been special working with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss working with you too GP, racing won’t be the same.”

Max managed to pull his car up and then to a stop behind where the number 1 plaque was. He went to remove the steering wheel and then carefully got out of the car, placed the wheel back and then stood on top of it with his arms up in triumph.

He stepped off the car and ran towards the mechanics for the last time into their waiting arms. He got head pats before being placed down, moved to take off his helmet and then got weighed before leaving it on the stand. He looked out further to see Y/N and the kids around her, Nicole in her arms, Nico ever present at his mother’s side, with Niki and Nik doing their best to lean over the barricade.

He walked towards them, embracing his wife as soon as she was in arms reach. He had pulled away, only for Nicole to hug him and yell, “Papa!” into his ear, he had squeezed her to his chest for a moment before letting go. Then the boys all tried to hug him at one time awkwardly piling on top of each other, and it almost felt like he was being embraced by all of the mechanics again even though they were his own sons.

He had walked back over to where the other drivers were, exchanging handshakes and congratulations, some even saying goodbye as if they would never see him again. He looked out to the Abu Dhabi circuit one last time, and then turned to Will Buxton, who was waiting to ask him questions.

He had walked over getting ready for what Will threw at him because after today he would no longer be a F1 driver. His time in Formula 1 had officially come to an end.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @brekkers-whore, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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waytootiredstudent · 4 months ago

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Why the CDU/CSU can go fuck itself

Time for another one of these. a quick(ish) summary for all the non-german speakers about why we're freaking out and the state of our democracy.

Spoiler. its not...good. Not catastrophic (yet). But the alarm bells are very, very loud.

Tl;dr: The CDU, party currently prognosed to win the election, has basically worked together with the afd to get a migrationbill to pass that is very strict. The afd are the nazi party that is getting backed by Musk. This might forshadow a cooperation between AFD and CDU. That would put the far right in power. The current response from the general public are demonstrations against that. Like. there are a LOT of protests currently.

Alright grab a drink and lets go.

First, groundwork: Who are parties and who is the guy we currently all want to punch in the face?

on top: Careful, risk of confusion. on the left: on the board of a sleazy cooperation. not interested in the enviroment. Real. On the right: on the board of a sleazy cooperation. not interested in the enviroment. comic figure.

This guy here is Friedrich Merz. no, not the guy on the right. the guy on the left. I know. Easy mistake to make.

He's an asshole. He's also the current boss of the CDU and their chancellor candidate. He's very likely to win according to recent polls.

The CDU has a complicated history, but to simplify it: They were in charge for sixteen years before the now broken apart Traffic-light goverment and are responsible for a lot of shit that we're currently dealing with. Like crumbling infrastructure for example. They were more interested, as a party, to preserve the status quo at all costs, than to invest anything. You could argue that a lot of the enviromental issues we are facing and the reason why Germany is currently pretty stagnant, can be traced back to the one and a half decade the CDU was in charge. They are conservative, not a fan of migration and like to throw around 'tradtional values'.

They are, generally speaking, or better were, center right. More on that later.

The other party that is going to be a major pain in the ass to outright fucking dangerous, is the AFD, short for 'Alternative for Germany'.

this is Alice Weidel, she's the current chancellor candidate for the afd. here is her wikipedia article and lets just say her 'controversies' part is longer than her 'political positions' part.

Those are the, to put it bluntly, Nazis. They are dangerous but also a fucking mess. Like, to just list a few of their hits: They've been getting money from dictators (different ones btw, not just one), infigthing is a sport to them, they try to glorify the nazi-regime, the german intelligence agency is watching them because they are officially considered radical right-wing and a threat to democracy, there is a petition to ban the afd and that is a high bar to cross, the demonize immigrants, hate queer people, you know, the usual. Also of course political correctness has gone too far and climate change isn't real and we need to leave the EU. Elon Musk, you know the rich guy who did the Nazi-salute, also has been appearing and is actively supporting them. Just in case we were unclear before on where they all stand.

(btw the whole 'elon is supporting them' thing is pretty scary bc you could argue the reason that the afd is able to win so many votes is bc, frankly, they're good at social media. Do i need to elaborate why that is a dangerous combination.)

to put them into perspective: The afd is too right for the other alt-right parties in the EU parlament. There is a coalition in the EU Parlament for the right, made up of all the right wing parties from other nations and the afd is too right for them. So. yeeeeaaah.

that should do it as background information.

Now. back to current events. where both of these parties are getting more and more support.

For a short history of why we currently have a non-functioning goverment, i made a post about that. Be aware that it was made as a product of its time and doesn't have all the information. For example back then we didn't know that FDP had actively engineered that break up and wanted it to happen for a while. Yes. They wanted to topple the goverment they were in. on purpose. It's been a fun time over here in Germany as well.

anyways, lets get to the meat of things. Since we don't have a functional goverment currently, Merz has introduced a harsh migration bill. This has been in the wake of an attack with two murders, where the current suspect is a migrant. while this is a tragedy, its getting brutally misused by all out rightwing parties to scream about how we need stricter migration laws and that migrants are a danger. Which to be so fucking clear about this, is such bullshit. It's been proven so many times how that is bullshit. I'm gonna be real and not even bother. They're just the newest scapegoats everything can be blamed on.

But because nobody has a majority, all attempts at governing so far have been pretty stalled.

(our goverment currently)

Quick information from the past:

in 2018 the CDU basically stated they wouldn't, in any sort of way, cooperate with the AFD, declaring basically a Brandmauer (fire wall). This basically means that yes, the afd had been given seats in the parlament, but nobody would give them any power whatsoever.

This has been the position of the cdu. It is why people still considered them center-right.

Merz has repeatedly said he didn't care who voted with him. now with a slight majority, 348 to 344, the cdu has won, with the support of the afd. Many see this as the fall of the Brandmauer. It's not good. Merz has more and more talking points that sound exactly like the afd and that is SCARY. There is still a vivid memory alive here about why having a far-right goverment is dangerous. There is a reason why there are currently a lot of massive protests all over the country loudly proclaiming that 'never again is now'.

This also puts for many the cdu from 'center right' to 'right'. There are calls from inside the cdu to 'stop demonizing the afd'. This is scary. This could mean that we get not just a conservative goverment in a few weeks, but a rightwing one. One who is comfortable cooperating with radical right wingers if it suits their needs. To cooperate with a party that even our own intelligence agencies consider a threat to our democrazy.

So. that is why your german mutuals sit there like

Now. To another part. What exactly is that migration bill merz had wanted to pass so desperateldy?

Well first of all it calls for a national emergency, using the beforementioned murder as reasoning, for the danger of immigration. It calls for closing and controls at the borders permanently, not temporary as is curently the case. They want for people without valid ID to be refused entry, even when they are searching safety. People that are already in Germany but need to leave should be thrown in jail until they actually leave.

Which. just to be clear about this. this what the bill they had, that had the support of the afd, says. This is not a wish list. This what they want to be law.

But to be also clear, lots of this is against our current law, against Basic EU law and principle and also a pretty big violation of our constituation.

Which is what makes this situation so fatal. This bill is going to be fought. In court, in politics, with demonstrations on the streets. this bill is controversial. Merz knew that. he knew that a lot of this wouldn't pass. This is a publicly stunt. This is testing the waters. How much will the public allow? how far can he push? Is cooperation with the afd possible for him? How does everyone react?

It was never about immigration or that bill. All the people this is going to impact, all the lives that are going to be lost because of this shit they are pulling - this is to them all just collateral. Its testing how much is possible, tolerated even. The chances of this bill making it law is slim. It needs to pass again in a different body of the goverment with a two thirds majority and that is nowhere in sight.

Also, lets take a look at who voted what:

it was about four votes. So my german friends who also read this - look at this and be aware of who voted what. Who abstained to vote and gave up the four votes it would have taken to stop this. who accepted that to get what they want they would need to get the support of the afd, no matter how much Merz now claims that he still doesn't cooperate with the afd and that there were no talks between them. Look at the numbers. Look how and with who they voted.

To be frank, i am pretty pissed off. I don't think much about wallowing in self-pity and despair. i am pissed off about what is happening. i am pissed off that these people don't have a spine, i am pissed off at the FDP for enabling this in the first place, i am pissed off that we have Nazis in out goverment, i am pissed off that we have people who are willing to cooperate with them. I am pissed off that i need to settle for damage control instead of being able to see something finally move forward.

Now here we come to the less depressing part of this whole thing. And i want you to pay attention to it.

People are protesting. loudly. And in the thousands. There have been ten to a hundred thousands of people all over the country in the last week, protesting against the rise of faschism and the far right. Its all over the country, in different cities. Where the afd appears to talk, so do the protesters. There are 35 afd people to 1300 protesters. People loudly say 'never again is now'. And they show up to back that claim up.

This shit is vile, yes, but it's not going to be unopposed.

I know this all reads as depressing as fuck but do not give into the temptation of falling into despair. This is far from over. Yes those are the alarm bells and they are ringing loudly. But there is still things that can be done. Don't let the afd lure you into thinking this all pointless anyways. It's not. This is all not good, yes, but no reason to fall into blind panic. The bill isn't law yet. Merz is facing massive backlash for his little stunt. This is not a hopeless situation. It's just a shitty one.

#gonna admit at this point i am writing this out for myself to wrap my head around #easier when i am explaining it to other people #german politics #friedrich merz #cdu #fck cdu #fck afd #alice weidel #german stuff #fuck elon #elon musk #merz #its like. two in the morning. i have work tmw. i need to go to bed so badly #germany #maybe tmw ill do a better break down of all the laws this shit is breaking #but i am simply too tired to do that today lol #merz can be lucky if i never meet him #he has a very punchable face is all i am saying #i hope this explains some of the things i post lol

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

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How to Read a Scientific Article

THE THREE-PASS APPROACH

The key idea is that you should read the paper in up to 3 passes, instead of starting at the beginning and plowing your way to the end.

Each pass accomplishes specific goals and builds upon the previous pass:

The first pass gives you a general idea about the paper.

The second pass lets you grasp the paper’s content, but not its details.

The third pass helps you understand the paper in depth.

At the end of the first pass, you should be able to answer the 5 Cs:

Category: What type of paper is this? A measurement paper? An analysis of an existing system? A description of a research prototype?

Context: Which other papers is it related to? Which theoretical bases were used to analyze the problem?

Correctness: Do the assumptions appear to be valid?

Contributions: What are the paper’s main contributions?

Clarity: Is the paper well written?

Purpose of the Sections of Empirical Articles

Section — Use it for

Abstract — This is a great section to read to find out if the article will be relevant to your own research.

Introduction — This section gives you an overview of work that has been done on topics relating to the hypothesis of the article, and will often lead you to other relevant work that has been done in your area of interest.

Method — This section will help you understand the design of the experiment. This is particularly useful if you'd like to replicate the study.

Results — The results will tell you what the author/s found in the course of their experiment.

Discussion — The discussion section is typically easier to read than the method and results section, and it will help the reader understand the implications of the results of the experiment.

References — This is a great place to look to find articles that are related to the one you are reading. If you're looking to build your own literature review, the references are a great place to start.

The Anatomy of a Scientific Paper

Some initial guidelines for how to read a paper:

Read critically: Reading a research paper must be a critical process. You should not assume that the authors are always correct. Instead, be suspicious. Critical reading involves asking appropriate questions.

Read creatively: Reading a paper critically is easy, in that it is always easier to tear something down than to build it up. Reading creatively involves harder, more positive thinking.

Make notes as you read the paper. Use whatever style you prefer. If you have questions or criticisms, write them down so you do not forget them. Underline key points the authors make. Mark the data that is most important or that appears questionable. Such efforts help the first time you read a paper and pay big dividends when you have to re-read a paper after several months.

After the first read-through, try to summarize the paper in one or two sentence.

If possible, compare the paper to other works.

Write a review that includes:

a one or two sentence summary of the paper.

a deeper, more extensive outline of the main points of the paper, including for example assumptions made, arguments presented, data analyzed, and conclusions drawn.

any limitations or extensions you see for the ideas in the paper.

your opinion of the paper; primarily, the quality of the ideas and its potential impact.

The guide below details how to read a scientific article step-by-step.

First, you should not approach a scientific article like a textbook— reading from beginning to end of the chapter or book without pause for reflection or criticism. Additionally, it is highly recommended that you highlight and take notes as you move through the article.

Skim the article. This should only take you a few minutes. You are not trying to comprehend the entire article at this point, but just get a basic overview. You don’t have to read in order; the discussion/conclusions will help you to determine if the article is relevant to your research. You might then continue on to the Introduction. Pay attention to the structure of the article, headings, and figures.

Grasp the vocabulary. Begin to go through the article and highlight words and phrases you do not understand. Some words or phrases you may be able to get an understanding from the context in which it is used, but for others you may need the assistance of a medical or scientific dictionary. Subject-specific dictionaries available through our Library databases and online are listed below.

Identify the structure of the article and work on your comprehension. Most journals use an IMRD structure: An abstract followed by Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion. These sections typically contain conventional features, which you will start to recognize. If you learn to look for these features you will begin to read and comprehend the article more quickly.

Read the bibliography/references section. Reading the references or works cited may lead you to other useful resources. You might also get a better understanding of the basic terminology, main concepts, major researchers, and basic terminology in the area you are researching.

Reflect on what you have read and draw your own conclusions. As you are reading jot down any questions that come to mind. They may be answered later on in the article or you may have stumbled upon something that the authors did not consider. Here are some examples of questions you may ask yourself as you read:

Have I taken time to understand all the terminology?

Am I spending too much time on the less important parts of this article?

Do I have any reason to question the credibility of this research?

What specific problem does the research address and why is it important?

How do these results relate to my research interests or to other works which I have read?

6. Read the article a second time in chronological order. Reading the article a second time will reinforce your overall understanding. You may even start to make connections to other articles that you have read on this topic.

Identify Key Information

Whether you are looking for information that supports the hypothesis in your own paper or carefully analyzing the article and critiquing the research methods or findings, there are important questions that you should answer as you read the article.

What is the main hypothesis?

Why is this research important?

Did the researchers use appropriate measurements and procedures?

What were the variables in the study?

What was the key finding of the research?

Do the findings justify the author’s conclusions?

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#writing notes #studyblr #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #light academia #writers on tumblr #literature #lit #creative writing #writing tips #writing advice #research #writing inspiration #writing reference #writing resources

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paddockletters · 6 months ago

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media day | franco colapinto

pairing: franco colapinto x reader summary: During media day, you accidentally gets asked for an interview, mistaken for a new member of the team. author’s note: first fic with franco kinda short but I have been willing to write for him and this was funny and I enjoyed writing it! Hope you like it!

The energy of media day buzzed around you, and while Franco darted from one interview to the next, you decided to keep a low profile and watch from the sidelines. But as you lingered, a reporter mistook you for someone on his team and approached, microphone in hand.

“Excuse me, could we get a quick interview with you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off, then, spotting Franco’s bemused expression in the background, you decided to play along.

“Of course,” you said, fighting a smile.

“Great! So, could you tell us a bit about your role with the team?”

You glanced over to Franco, who was watching with barely hidden laughter. He mouthed, “Inventá algo” (make up something) giving you a mischievous wink.

“Oh, um, I’m… Franco’s diet coordinator?” you improvised.

Franco nearly choked trying to keep his composure, and you went on, sounding as official as possible.

“I’m responsible for overseeing every single thing he eats on race weekends. It’s a delicate balance of nutrition and… well, superstition.”

“Really?” The reporter looked intrigued, jotting down notes. “What’s an example of a typical race day meal?”

Franco slipped behind the reporter, out of her view, and whispered, “decile empanadas y alfajores.” (say empanadas and alfajores)

“Oh, well, there are specific requirements. For breakfast, it’s usually a light protein shake, and closer to the race, it’s… empanadas and alfajores for energy.” You said, fighting a grin.

“Alfajores and empanadas… interesting, it’s an Argentinian food?” the reporter remarked, clearly surprised.

“Yep, and don’t forget the Fernet with cola—that’s for the post-race celebration.” Franco jumped in, trying to keep a straight face.

You barely held it together but nodded solemnly.

“It’s all about balance.”

Once the reporter moved on, you turned to Franco, who was in stitches.

“¿Vos sos boludo o qué? empanadas y fernet?” (Are you dumb or what? empanadas and fernet?)

“Eh, tenías que decirle algo que me representara ¿no?” (Hey, you had to tell her something that represented me, right?) he replied with a grin.

“If she writes an article saying your race diet is alfajores, I’m never letting you live it down.” You nudged him, still laughing.

“No pasa nada, mi reina” (No problem, my queen) he said wrapping an arm around your shoulders and smirking. “Maybe you just scored me a few more argentinean fans!”

“Oh, great. Now I’m the ‘nutritionist’ who approves empanadas for a Formula 1 driver” you replied with a playful roll of your eyes and Franco just laughed, pulling you closer.

"Although I still don’t know how she didn’t figure out I have nothing to do with the team. I mean, I’m not even wearing the team kit" you said, still wrapped in his arms.

"Well, maybe she assumed because you had your phone and my cap in hand. Either way, that was fun, but I don’t think there’ll be a second time" Franco replied with a grin from ear to ear. With this prank, especially if it aired on TV, fans would love Franco even more.

alfajores: soft cookies sandwiched with dulce de leche (a caramel-like spread) and often coated in chocolate or rolled in coconut. empanadas: savory pastries filled with ingredients like beef, chicken, or cheese and seasoned uniquely in each region. fernet: a bitter, herbal spirit, famously mixed with coca cola (“fernet con coca”) and served over ice.

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yummyrevivalfluid · 2 months ago

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And If You Think I’m In Love With You

Senku x Reader

Summary: You heard a rather interesting rumor. A rumor that when you confront Senku, has him analyzing his interactions with you.

WC: 1369

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song. Enamorado Tuyo by El Cuarteto de Nos. The lyrics are a bit contradicting so it can get confusing! But it conveys the message of being in denial of love! Downplaying feelings. I incoporated some lyrics of the song into the fic :)

“I heard an interesting theory today,” Your voice, briefly pulling Senku’s attention away from a research article.

“Theory?” He pushed back against his chair and turned to look at you, his brow raised in a questioning manner. Looking at you over his shoulder, you laid sprawled on his bed as you messed with a rubix cube.

“Theory…. rumor, same thing.” You reasoned, drawing out your words and shrugging your shoulders. Senku rolled his eyes, not entirely amused you broke his concentration for something he would consider trivial.

“They are not the same. Theories are explanations for phenomenon, made through logical reasoning and thinking.” Senku explained, his back to you once again, “Rumors can be true or false, made up…usually not backed by logical reasoning.”

“Whatever Dr. Know-it-all” you mumbled under your breath. By now you’re sitting on the edge of his bed, you glance at Senku’s form. You hesitate. Wondering if now a good time is to challenge the dynamics between the two of you. You almost regretted bringing up what you’ve heard.

“Well, I usually don’t pay attention to rumors,” you said quietly, yet Senku still heard you. Even snickering at your words and you responded with a playful glare. “But this one got my attention,” you walked to where Senku was sitting and placed your hands on his shoulders. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear, teasingly, “I heard you have feelings for me…”

Senku’s eyes jolted open. His relaxed demeanor now stiffened under your touch. A light blush graces his face, burning the tips of ears. “Where the hell did that crazy ass rumor come from!?”

“The grape vine…” you pulled back.

“And how did this grapevine come to this theory?” he asked. Curious as to know what others saw between the two of you. Is there something that he is missing?

“Oh man where to begin!” you exclaimed dramatically, launching yourself onto his bed once again. “They gave so many examples! For starters your lock screen…. they said your clingy…” you snickered. You continue to state a few other reasons, and for every reason Senku began to analyze. Deep in thought, your voice began to fade, not catching your own question at the end.

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

“Pleaseeeee Senkuuuuu!” you whined as you dragged him closer to the telescope. “Look at the lighting, it’s perfect! Just one photo please!”

“One photo.” Senku sighed. You let out a gasp, letting go of his arm and quickly ran to the front of the large telescope. Senku snickered at your excitement, pulling out his phone, getting ready to take the one photo.

“Do I look okay?” you asked, looking over yourselves. Senku walked closer to you, eyeing you up and down.

“You have something right there…” he muttered as he pointed at your shirt, you looked down just to have his finger flick your chin. “Kidding….” He cackled as you pouted that you had fallen for one of his lame tricks.

“Stop messing around, you said I only get one photo”, you swatted his arm to get him to stop laughing. Senku moved further back, positioning his camera.

“3…2…1.”

He took the picture and examined it. You were standing in front of the large telescope, the ceiling of the observatory showcased the night sky, the moonlight landing on you. He had to agree, the lighting was good. The way the moonlight hit your figure, you were practically glowing. You looked like a goddess… angel…He didn’t hear you approaching, too mesmerized by the photo he had taken of you. He didn’t have time to stop you from swiping his phone.

“Hey!”

“Relax, I just wanted to see how good I look.” He watched as you zoomed in and out of the screen, and then you were clicking buttons. “And BAM! Now you have me as your lockscreen. Just don’t go around and telling people that we’re dating.” You snickered as you handed him back his phone. You begin to walk away from him, going to the next spot in your exploration of the observatory. Leaving Senku to check his lockscreen and sure enough, your face was smiling back at him.

Not like it means anything he reasons with himself

I almost rarely see your photo on my phone

Even though the photo was his lockscreen, it’s not like he pays much attention to the photo. It’s not like he examines your photo every time he unlocks his phone. Maybe for like 5 seconds, rarely does he examine it for more than 10 seconds. It’s not like every time he checks for the time, he’s smiling back at your smile. It’s not his fault your smile is contagious. Weeks after the photo was taken, when confronted why he hasn’t changed it, “I only keep your photo on my phone because I don’t have the time to delete it. Too many buttons to click…”

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

Clingy? It’s not like I’m desperate to have you by my side…

All the time you keep him company while Byakuya is away, all the hours you spend with him huddled in his room. In Senku’s mind, sure he’s the one that invites you, even luring you with food and sweets, but you’re the one that accepts his invitation. You’re the one that clings to him.

Once again, you found yourself helping Senku with his research paper. Lured in with the promise of some chocolates. You sat at one end of his desk, reviewing his work, scanning for any grammatical errors, sipping coffee as you do so. Senku on the other hand is yet again planning another experiment. A loud yawn escaped you, catching Senku’s attention.

“Tired?” Senku commented. You glanced at the time on your phone, you stretched your arms, purposely invading into Senku’s area.

“How can I not be? You’re overworking me! Not to mention you forgot my chocolates.” You complained, you closed your laptop as you began to collect your stuff. “Anyways, it’s late. I got to get going…” you looked out his window, the sun had set a long time ago.

“Stay the night. It’s too late for you to be out anyways…” Senku got up from his seat and stood beside you, acknowledging the night sky.

“Why not walk me home?” you asked, already knowing his answer.

“Too much work…There should be an extra toothbrush in the restroom” Senku rubbed at the back of neck, thinking of what else you might need for the night. “Do you need pajamas?”

“If I knew better, I would think you wanted me to stay…” you teased, slightly leaning into his shoulder. Senku laughed at your comment.

“Ohhh sureee yeah,” Senku sarcastically agreed, “Part of my plan to get you into bed.”

“Perv”

And when I am, desperate to have you by my side…

Even though he had no plans to share a bed with you, that’s how the night ended. You lay beside him, wearing his old clothes. Your back pressed against him. He did a lot of explaining when Byakuya arrived home to surprise him, surprised to see Senku sleeping with you, his arms embracing your form.

…That doesn’t mean it has a deeper meaning…

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

Senku wasn’t sure how long he was analyzing these reasons. He wasn’t sure why he was analyzing them like it was something he was supposed to rationalize, something he was supposed to counter. Clearly this was a rumor. Something made up. Something that both of you two shouldn’t acknowledge. If you’ve given him a day, he could write out all the reasons why this theory can be disproved, but you didn’t. You spoke again, trying to get his attention. You repeated your question. The same question that was lost to Senku’s ear when he began to get lost in thought.

“So, do you?” you ask again. Waiting in silence for what felt like eternity. Watching as the gears turn in Senku’s head. Dying to know if the rumors are just rumors. If there’s truth to what’ve heard. You watched him, your eyes almost pleading. “Do you have feelings for me…”

And if you think I’m in love with you, please don’t make a fuss

“It’s just a rumor…”

I think…

#dcst senku #dr stone senku #ishigami senku #senku #senku ishigami #senku x reader #senku x y/n #doctor stone

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cult-of-husbandos · 2 years ago

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yami ai [yandere] - Hot Yandere Singles Near You

synopsis: you click on a random pop-up ad and are visited by weird smiling man in suit.

genre: pure crack (like fr), fluff, tbh there's not really a plot

word count: 4.4k

warnings: implied stalking

Isn’t insomnia just the worst? Like, seriously? What’s the point of being a human being with antiquated thoughts and impressive cognitive and motor skills when your brain fights you on the most basic stuff. For example, like sleeping!!

You must’ve refreshed YouTube and Twitter over a thousand times. Over 8 billion people in the world and there’s no new content anywhere? You groaned and jumped back over onto Twitter, silently praying and pleading for something new to show up on your feed. Maybe a wacky billionaire got eaten by a mob of homeless people or maybe a news article about a Floridian doing something gross and outrageous and virtually impossible.

But nope. Nothing.

Not a single thing piqued your interest. You groaned again and looked at the time on your dimly lit phone. It was past 2 a.m. and you were bored out of your mind. You then lazily clicked on Google and sighed.

‘Maybe someone posted a new fanfic over something…’ you hoped. And even if there wasn’t a new fic uploaded you’ll just read the old ones you favorited. Perhaps reading something might put you to sleep.

As you were scrolling through your favorite ship tags, you were startled by a pop up ad covering up 90% of the screen and flashing emojis.

“Ugh… seriously?” you groaned. “They should make ad-blockers on phones for this shit.” You squinted at the bright lettering emanating from your phone even though it was at the lowest brightness setting.

⚠️(99+) Hot Yandere Singles NEAR YOU⚠️

Yandere’s…? Singles? Near me?

The pop-up ad had flashing peach, cherry, and eggplant emojis with a water splash emoji at the end to signify… well, you’re not sure what it was trying to signify. On the sides of the ad, it showed pictures of very gorgeous men and women, all striking suggestive poses. Underneath the title was a small summary that read. ‘These lonely desperate yanderes wanna meet you! They’ll most likely find you anyway, but wouldn’t you rather be the honey to a bee instead of a fly? Try it NOW for FREE!! No hookups! No catfishes! No sign ups!’ Then below that were a few empty boxes to fill out requiring your personal information.

"..."

Was this a porn ad?!

No way at 2:45 in the freaking morning did you just get a porn pop-up ad while googling mafia au fanfiction. This has to be some kind of joke. Maybe it was prank and someone was just fucking with you. And how and why would there be 99+ yanderes in your area?! You couldn’t be surrounded by that many psychos. Could you? Whatever the case may be, it was now past 2 a.m. and as the rule of life states ‘Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.’. You don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or just reckless curiosity, but you gave your shoulders a shrug and mumbled a ‘fuck it’ as you put in your information. Your name, number, gender, age, preferred sex, email, and mailing address. As you clicked submit and continued scrolling, you gave very little thought about how this would go down.

On one hand, the ad turns out to be real and you get a partner out of this. Or

You get quartered, stalked, doxxed, and murdered like the dumbass you are for putting your personal info into a sketchy porno-like pop-up on Google.

Or, it turns out to be a prank and some asshole sitting in a basement has a good laugh at you.

Meh. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

*****

You were jolted awake with the sound of rapid knocking coming from your front door. You groaned into your pillow as you tried to ignore the person desperately wanting your attention from outside your apartment. You finally got some sleep only for it to get interrupted. Only minutes and minutes of continued knocking without any signs of letting up, you decide to get up and shoo away whoever it was. You wearily grabbed your phone to check the time.

8:02 a.m.

You huffed as you stormed towards the front door.

“If this a fucking Jehova’s Witness, I swear to god…” you grumbled. You swung open the door and threw the person a harsh glare, only to be met with popping sounds as confetti flew in your face.

“Good morning, my dear darling~!! Are you ready to begin on the road to happiness and love?” the stranger shouted a far too happy tone for 8 in the morning.

You took a step back in shock, fully awake as you waved and dusted the confetti from your face and hair. You looked the strange man up and down. He was smiling ear to ear and wore an expensive looking suit to warm for the summer weather. A briefcase stood right beside him along with dozens of other party poppers and a white plastic bag filled with brown bottles with oddly enough no labels on them. You looked at the man’s face. He was surprisingly attractive and without a single flaw anywhere. His hair was jet black and shined a very prominent gloss. You were honestly kind of embarrassed to be seen by him when you looked like such a mess. The man let out a chuckle.

“Oh my.” he said, gently putting his hand over his mouth with vague concern. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I probably should’ve sent you an email notifying you of the time I was coming. I’m sorry that must’ve been a troubling awakening.”

You quirked your eyebrow and took another step back, grabbing onto the doorknob so that you could slam it right in his face if things got too weird.

“And… you are?”

“Oh my, oh my. Where are my manners? How careless of me to assume.” The man bowed with a curtsy. “I am the ‘Matchmaker’. My job is to pair two people with their fated soulmate and give each of my clients their happily ever after. It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

You felt a chill crawl down your spine. How’d this weirdo know your name?! You tried to close the door as fast as you could, but the ‘Matchmaker’ was even faster. He clicked his tongue at you, his smile unchanging, but his eyes seemed to harden his gentle tone.

“My, how rude. Is that any way to treat a guest?” He let out another chuckle. “You’ll never find love that way.”

“H-How did you know my name?” you stuttered.

Again, another chuckle. What was so funny? “My dear~. You gave it to me.”

What the hell was he talking about? How could you have given this creep your name? Was he a stalker? A junkie? Noticing the confusion on your face, the man spoke up again.

“Oh my dear. Do you really not remember?” he asked, tilting his head in feign innocence. “You filled out an ad to meet singles in your area. And here I am, coming to fulfill that ad.”

You eased up on the tension you had on the door and tilted your head in surprised confusion. “That was a real ad?”

The man stood up tall and smiled earnestly again. “Of course. However, you are the first person to actually fill out that ad. Really, this is more of a celebration to both of us.”

Huh, so the pop-up ad was real.

Not a prank.

And now there’s a psycho standing at your front door promising you a partner from an actual yandere.

“I honestly thought it was a prank. I mean… yanderes? Isn’t that just an anime thing?”

“Oh, I assure you my darling.” he said with a snide smirk. “Yanderes are real. And when they heard about signing up, it was like tossing chicken in a sea of alligators. All clamoring to be the first person to take a bite.”

Okay, gross but kind of sweet.

“May I come in?”

“Huh?”

“Well, my dear. It would be easier to come in and talk through the process of how this goes instead of standing here.”

“Oh, um… Suuuree-”

“Great! My my darling~. What a lovely home. Very well decorated.” The man quickly strided into your house and made himself comfortable in your living room, looking as if he was analyzing every detail about your house.

Richard Chase would’ve loved your dumbass.

You shut the door and followed him into your own apartment and offered him a seat on your couch. Might as well, right? You’ve gone this far and you're still alive.

“Umm…” you hesitantly shifted from one foot to another. “Do you… um… want some coffee maybe? Or tea? Maybe a glass of water? If you haven;t eaten breakfast yet, I whip you up something.”

Yeah, sure. Feed the man with only a title for a name and waltzed right into your house after showing up after you put in your personal information into a random pop-up ad at 3 a.m. promising you a happy life with hot single yanderes in your area. You are the pinnacle of human genius. The apex of natural selection. The creme de la creme of common sense. Charles Darwin would be so impressed.

“How thoughtful. Just coffee would be fine. Thank you.”

After brewing a quick pot, you sat across from the man facing him heads on and gently slid him his steaming cup. After a while of taking little sips in weird silence, he spoke up again.

“Before we continue, I’d just like to say: Thank you so much for applying for this wonderful opportunity!! Not many people would click on an ad requiring doxxing information to meet their soulmates! Again, congrats on being our number one willing client!”

“Willing client?” you asked.

“Well, of course! For some reason, humans seem to really love the idea of a yandere until there’s one standing on their front porch!” he laughed.

“Humans? I’m sorry. Are you not human, Mr…?”

“Ah ah! No need for formalities! Just ‘The Matchmaker’ or simply ‘Matchmaker’.

“Oh, so… you don’t have a true name? Or is that just a title?”

“Oh darling~.” he sang sweetly. “That’s none of anyone’s fucking business, is it?”

Your eyes widened and let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, got it! Just Matchmaker. Lovely name. Adore it. In fact, I love when strange mysterious men only give a title for a name.” What the hell does that even mean? You had no idea what you were saying anymore.

“Heh, smart cookie.” He winked. “Shall we begin?”

“Um, yeah, so… how does this work exactly?” you finally asked.

“Simple, my dear darling. Think of this as an ordinary matchmaking appointment. I have a stack of potential soulmates all ready to meet you. I have the same information about them that I also have of you. Each potential soulmate also has a picture so if you don’t really feel up to meeting face-to-face just yet you can look over the picture and see who captures your heart.”

“Face-to-face? So these guys have my picture too?” “Of course! And might I say, those pictures don’t do you justice. In all my years in this business, I’ve never seen such an obsession and overload of potential soulmates for just one person.”

You lightly blushed. “I-I don’t know about that… I barely got any sleep last night so I probably look like a zombie right now…”

“Au contraire, Darling. You look absolutely stunning. If I weren’t such a professional I would burn all these forms and claim you as my one and only~.”

You felt your entire face flush red as the Matchmaker pierced your soul with his longing gaze. It felt like he was staring into your very essence – like he could read you like a book. You nervously cleared your throat and shifted your eyes away, hoping to bring down your blush.

“S-So! Um… should we get started?” you stuttered, internally kicking yourself for being so easily flustered by a couple of smooth words. Ted Bundy would’ve had a field day with your dumbass.

“Ready whenever you are, my dear.” The Matchmaker set his briefcase on your coffee table and pulled out a single form and slid it over towards you. “Let’s start off with an easy one.”

You looked at the form along with the picture of a very attractive man paperclipped to the paper. According to the form, his name is Hamazawa Akita. He was in his early 20’s, had a varying array of hobbies from hiking to scuba diving, and was very much in love with you.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Hm, well, he’s very cute. And very active.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Um, sure… is there a number I could call or…?”

“No need! We can bring him in right now.” The Matchmaker snapped his fingers and you whipped your head towards the front door where Akita strolled in, all smiles. You looked back over the Matchmaker. “Did I not lock my door? Wait. More importantly, how’d he get here?!”

The Matchmaker smiled. “My dear, when you’re in this business you pick up a few tricks.” He then turned his attention towards Akita who now stood in the middle of the living room. “No. 1 would you like to introduce yourself?”

Akita stood tall and his eyes seemed to beam directly at you. “My name is Hamazawa Akita. Ever since I saw your picture I’ve dreamed about sweeping you off your feet and claiming you all to myself!”

“So, like 8 hours ago?”

“Yes!! But those hours feel like years when being away from you.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what do you think? Are you feeling the butterflies?”

You looked up Akita up and down and your face twisted as if you’re deciding on whether or not to buy a car or a piece of clothing.

“Um, to be honest my guy. I’m not feeling it.”

“Huh?”

“Excuse me, my darling?”

“Weeeelllll…. I mean, don’t get me wrong! You’re very attractive and your words are sweet, but I don’t think I believe any of it. Like, you just admitted to wanting me all to yourself only 8 hours ago, but I don’t really feel anything. Not even a shiver.”

The Matchmaker and Akita both looked at each other like they weren’t really expecting that. With a quick wave of his hand, Akita slumped his shoulders and headed towards your front door. You shouted out an apology as the dejected suitor walked out.

“Well, I didn’t expect that. I don’t normally get such competent clients. At least those that get past kicking and screaming.” The Matchmaker grinned. You shrugged.

“I guess I just know what I like. All the anime I’ve watched kind of gives you that high standard of what makes a yandere a real yandere, y’know?”

He nodded. “I cannot agree more. Well, we have plenty more where that came from. Shall we continue?”

*****

Papers were strewn across your coffee table in an unorganized fashion as both you and your estranged guest were tired beyond belief. You had no idea how many hours had passed nor how many guests were in and out of your apartment. You’re honestly surprised none of your neighbors complained or called the police. Your apartment would’ve looked like a clown car if anyone had been watching from the outside. You honestly lost count after No. 256. You let out another yawn and laid on your side trying your best to keep your eyes open. Maybe 2 hours of sleep wasn’t enough for the multiple interviews you had to conduct today. Maybe your 9th grade biology teacher was right. Maybe you are going to die alone. A weary sigh brought you from your thoughts.

“My, my. You are definitely the most high standard client I’ve ever had. I didn’t think we’d get to the triple digits in just one day.”

You also sighed and sat up in your seat. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… All these guys are cute and all, but they’re all lacking something. They’re either too forceful or not forceful enough. Too wimpy or too strong. Or too obsessed or just incredibly so lovesick that I feel like they’d fall in love with just about anyone who’d be willing. Ugh, why can’t this be simpler like adopting an animal?” You groaned. You also hadn’t thought this would take this long. You didn’t really think of yourself as having high standards until today. Until today, you’d be happy with anyone close to you in age and with a heartbeat. Who knew picking out a yandere soulmate would be so challenging. And who knew that there’d be so many willing participants! The Matchmaker reached into his briefcase and pulled another stack of forms and slid them over to you. There must be at least over a hundred papers in front of you. How did he have so many?!

“How about we switch things up, hm? You’ll look over the papers and when you see someone that catches your eye, I’ll bring him in.” He made it sound like you were adopting a dog or a cat. But if this made it go any faster, you were willing to try.

After about 3 more stacks of papers, you were starting to lose hope and patience. When you got to the last few papers, you stopped dead in your tracks. Woah baby!

“Woah baby!” you exclaimed.

“Did you find someone you like?” The Matchmaker asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah. This guy.” You showed him the paper. He furrowed his brows a little.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I remember this man. His name and face don’t seem familiar.”

“Really? Maybe he’s a late entry or something?”

Matchmaker stroked his chin in thought. “I’ll go check it out. Be right back, dear. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience.”

You waved off his apology with a smile and he left your apartment. You then leaned back with a groan. You just wanted to find your ‘soulmate’ or whatever and move on with this day. You closed your eyes for a second and waited patiently for Matchmaker to come back.

Tap tap tap

Just like deja vu, you were awoken by rapid knocking. Except this time it wasn’t coming from your front door.

Tap tap tap tap

It sounds like it’s coming from… your window?

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

You quickly got up and walked towards your window and opened it.

“Woah!” You jumped back a little as you were met face to face with the man that you had picked out and that the Matchmaker went to go find.

‘Wow… he’s even cuter in person!!’

He let out a delicious chuckle and gave you a charming smile.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, darling~. Hehe, though I think that fear in your eyes was worth it. So adorable~.” For the second time today, a complete weirdo stranger has made you blush. Wait…

“Wait! I don’t have a balcony and I’m on the third floor. How’d you-?” You peeked over the window to see if he was pulling a Criss Angel.

“I have incredible grip strength~.” he winked.

“Oooh I’m sure~.” you swooned. For a weirdo, he was a smooth talking weirdo.

“Oh, I got these for you, sweetheart~.” He pulled himself up and sat on your windowsill and pulled out a bouquet of roughly cut flowers from behind him. You gasped and grabbed them, giving them a smell.

“These are my favorite!! How did you know? I don’t think that was one of the pieces of info required for the Matchmaker.” you asked.

The stranger chuckled. “Easy. I never filled out that stupid application.”

You looked up from your flowers and titled your head like a confused puppy.

“I already know everything about you. I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to tell me what I already know about you. Like, how I know that you have secret sweets hidden all throughout your room. Or that whenever you have a good day you love to sing Stray Kids.”

He inched closer to you as you backed up further into the room.

“You won’t eat frozen pizza, but every so often you eat a lobster roll from a food truck from Gary on Main St.. You have life destroying evidence of your boss that you’re planning on using on your last day. You’ve seen the Barbie movie 5 times. And…”

You felt your legs hit the couch and tried to keep yourself from falling onto your back like a defenseless turtle.

“Your favorite anime is… Dar-” You quickly covered the stranger’s mouth with a furious blush.

“I only watch it ironically!! I don’t love it! It’s not my favorite!” you quickly clarified. The gravity of the situation was made perfectly clear after that. This man really knew all about you. Honestly, you’re so loud that you’re pretty sure that people on the ground outside could hear you singing. And you don’t really pay attention to your surroundings so it's easy for someone to know that you eat from a food truck every other week at specific times. But, knowing your favorite secretly watched anime?

“W-Who… are you?” you stuttered. You’re pretty sure you already knew the answer.

He laughed and you felt his lips brush against your fingers. You blushed and tried to pull back, only to be stopped by his hands.

“Sweetie~. You already know who I am.” He grabbed the paper from the stack and put it next to his face. “See? I’m Yami Ai. Your soulmate.”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were gently pushed onto the couch with Yami hovering over you holding your hands beside your head. You couldn’t stop the blush erupting from your neck to your face. Your heart was beating way too fast and your stomach felt jumpy and queasy. Butterflies.

You cleared your throat. “Um… so, if you didn’t fill out a form then how come The Matchmaker had your profile and picture? And why didn’t you use the front door?”

Yami smirked and leaned in closer. “It’s pretty simple to pull off when your apartment does security checks on new guests entering the building.”

“But, my apartment doesn’t–” you stopped. “Ooooh… So you impersonated a security guard, slipped your profile and info into his briefcase, and were planning on showing up as one of the potential singles? That’s… convoluted. But, smart.” You shrugged. “And since you obviously knew which floor I was on and which window was mine, I assume you’ve been watching me for a while and were watching me last night when I couldn’t sleep?”

Yami laughed again. “You are so smart~. You really catch on quickly, don’t you?”

You shrugged again with a nervous smile. “W-Well, obviously not smart enough to not put in my personal info and have strange men come in and out of my apartment.”

Yami was quick to turn his gentle smile into a hard, harsh frown. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and you winced under the force he placed in you.

“You know, my darling. It’s partially my fault. If I hadn’t backed out and taken you that night, you’d never be in this situation. With those men eyeing you up and down like you were theirs. Having that smiling freak calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ when only I can call you that. I was planning on getting rid of the competition, but you did that for me.”

Yami loosened his grip and lifted you up, staring into your eyes. You blushed again.

“Rejection after rejection. Some guys didn’t even get 2 words out before you turned away. Of course my darling would only want the most perfect man. Isn’t that right, darling~?”

“Hehehe~” you leaned in with a giggle. “You’re so sweet~.”

You are such a baby for flattery.

*****

“My dear darling, I’m so very sorry for the inconvenience. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but I could not find this person you–” Matchmaker explained, rushing in and stopping dead in his tracks when he saw both you and Yami, the man who left 30 minutes ago to go find, eating breakfast in the living room.

Sitting in his lap.

And feeding each other.

“Oh! Matchmaker!” you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your food. You didn’t notice Yami tightening his grip on your waist nor did you notice the cold glare and tense atmosphere enveloping the room. “Look who I found~.”

“I see…” he said hesitantly.

“He climbed up the building and came in through the window.”

“My~. How romantic~.” he sang. “So, I take it that you are satisfied with your soulmate? Or… do you wish to continue searching?” he asked teasingly. Before Yami could say anything, you quickly spoke again.

“Yep! I’m sure.” You ruffled Yami’s hair and nuzzled up against him. “I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” Yami hugged you closer to his chest as you giggled. “Plus, he makes the most amazing breakfast in the world, so extra points!” you cheered. You reached out towards the Matchmaker’s briefcase.

“Here you go! I put all the papers back in for you.”

Matchmaker quickly walked over and grabbed his briefcase along with your hand. “Well, my dear. It’s been an honor. You are truly the most remarkable and memorable client I have ever had.” he said with a bow and made his way towards the door. However, before leaving he chuckled and looked back at the both of you. “Although, it’s a shame,” he sighed. “Maybe if I had stayed, I would’ve snatched you up myself.”

And with a final loud laugh, The Matchmaker disappeared, but not before Yami stood up to lounge and attack the fleeting man like a guard dog. You snorted and caressed his face to calm him down. “Relax, Yami. He’s just joking.”

“Well, I hated his joke. Fuckin’ freak…” he grumbled. “And it’s Ai. You’re mine now. You should get used to calling each other by our first names.”

You smiled and leaned against him. “Okay, Ai. Whatever you say.”

“And if a man comes to the door, never EVER answer it, got it!”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious, darling. I’ll gouge their eyes out right in front of you.”

“Yes sir.”

The rest of your life was going to be very interesting. Suck it, Ms. Braxton. I guess you’re the one dying alone. Because you have a yandere boyfriend! And she has gonorrhea. Bitch.

---

a/n: this is so shit. i'm so sorry that i've been MIA for a while. work has been pretty crazy and i haven't really felt much motivated to write. however, i'm trying to get back into it now. with this goofy shit. kind of a joke piece, but i needed to write something silly and not serious at all to relax. (also i've been writing since 4 a.m., so...) anyways, i'm going to try and update regulary or at least post something.

Here's my YouTube. I make anime playlists.

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zerogptchatgpt · 1 year ago

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vultbae · 11 months ago

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hot boy delivery ✩

college!art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: Tashi's handsome alleged boyfriend knocks on your door and asks for her since she's your roommate. But she's not there, so you'll borrow him for tonight.

↳ warnings: smut (minors dni), tipsy sex, mentions of cheating but isn't, porn with plot, mean!reader at the beginning.

↳ notes: yall know the drill english is not my first language! so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense

word count: 5.7k

Stanford isn't what you would call a party school; there isn't an endless rage circuit or binge drinking regarding students –or at least the ones you know. So when you decided to enroll in college, you knew any unpleasant symptoms like headaches or fatigue would be caused by academic all-nighters and no hangovers as you believed years ago. It was a deal-breaker, but it was Stanford at the end of the day.

Your parents had enough funds to bring to the table independence privileges most college students don't have, for example, living off-campus."¿Why would I decline this unusual offer?" you thought at the time, giving in to the advantageous idea of complete autonomy and no supervision—you had seen places around the Palo Alto area, cozier and more stylish than any archaic-looking dorm room Stanford had to offer for a few thousand dollars a year —six to seven, to be exact.

Somehow, you had ended up on the shithole you had been attempting to dodge for so long. Your best friend, Diana, had gaslighted you into believing that coexisting in the same place with other young people is one of those stimulating aspects of attending college. Heck, rowdy dorm parties, popping Plan B's, snorting coke from someone's fake boobs!

Bullshit. Diana had gotten into Stanford, too, and all of your thrilling anticipations of rooming with her vanished when she had to rescind her offer due to the scarcity of financial aid. She ended up committing to Virginia State University. At the other fucking end of the United States.

You had promised Diana to go above and beyond to fulfill those wild ideas about college. Guess what? Now, you were forced to live in a rusty dorm without your extravagant Palo Alto apartment, your best friend, and rooming with a weirdo.

And, of course, you still hadn't snorted coke out of anyone's fake boobs.

"Oh my god," you breathe out with a sigh of annoyance. You let the back of your head fall over the headboard of your bed as your hands reach up to rub your tired-looking eyes; your laptop is lying on your lap, screening the article you have to read for some core course. It's almost seven o'clock, and you are about to surrender and take a twelve-hour nap.

You can't, though. Your eyes roam around and descend on your roommate's side: empty, noiseless, as if there wasn't someone there two hours ago. The apathy in your facial expression is prominent as you notice the cluttered desk, bed blankets hanging off, and wrinkled clothes over the floor. "How disgusting," you think, shaking your head and facing your laptop again, pushing it off your legs this time.

Your roommate was indeed something else. After swallowing against your will the miserable fact that you wouldn't room with Diana, your parents had already paid for Stanford on-campus housing, and it is what it is. A month before moving to California, you had seen the name of your designated roommate for the freshman year, Tashi Duncan.

You are not confident about the sort of woman Tashi is. Although you had been cordial and accommodating with her —even though you didn't want a roommate, she is not what you would call a friend. Tashi is a tennis player, apparently a very talented one, since many people around campus ridiculously fangirl over her —but you don't know if it's because of her model-like physical complexion or her sports talent. Well, it's not like you care. But despite sharing a dorm room, Tashi's interactions with you are minimal and curt, and conversations with her are typically one-sided. She rises early and evaporates for the rest of the day.

Doubtful, you pick up your Nokia from the nightstand and quickly text her, "Wya?" to feel responsible –she has never done it, though. Since you live in an on-campus residence, entry isn't monitored until eight p.m. during the week, and you already know she won't arrive by that time. She probably won't arrive at all.

The anxious chewing on the bottom of your lip ceases when your phone vibrates with the "I'm staying at Art's x" message popping on the screen. A mix of relief, bliss, and sovereignty surges from your body's core. You don't know who Art is, but you've heard Tashi talk about him a couple of times, so you assume he is her boyfriend, sneaky link, or whatever freaky shit she would be up to. You briefly contemplate the text, instantly replying, "take care :)" and waiting for her not to respond.

You sit there, stunned for a hot minute, considering the countless activities you could do now that you are —and will remain—all alone. Mild daylight peers through the opened curtains, although it's getting dark. Your head slightly turns to the two-lite slider window between both beds, revealing the distinctive greens of the trees that reach your view—a typical Stanford campus panorama.

The bedroom is ample; the floor is covered with cheap deep blue carpeting, and the walls have been sealed with a matte layer of pearl white. Your mural side is preciously decorated: polaroids, stickers, and decorative leds shimmering in a warm yellow tone adequate for winter, while Tashi's side is... three posters: two from random tennis players and a large Spider-man one. "What are we, ten-year-olds?" you murmur, eyes rolling back, exasperated as you sit in the sight of the oversized picture.

You really can't get what is so amusing about Tashi.

Your phone rings suddenly, and you sense your muscles twitch at the unexpected ringtone clashing against the lifeless four walls. A big "Diana" is written in black letters, blaring at you, which is a good sign of an enjoyable night. With no second thoughts, you pick up.

"¡Hey girl!" are the first words you hear from your best friend.

You haven't seen her since the summer break –four months ago–and time hasn't been your ally in terms of missing your friends. Diana and you always intended to attend college together; nevertheless, you can't predict anything about college. Now, she resided in Virginia, while you did in California.

"I've missed you so fucking much," you grin against the phone, talking with enthusiasm. You stand up to walk to the shared kitchen, "how's everything been in Virginia?"

Diana scoffs at your question. "Do you for real think I called you to talk about boring-ass Virginia?" she mockingly complains, sarcasm dripping out of her voice. "The real question is, how's everything been in Cali?" she adds, half screaming the last two words.

Your humorous facial expression morphs into a disgraceful one. "Well, mediocre if you take out the fact I live in this dorm. Otherwise, pretty shit."

"At least it's a Stanford dorm," Diana points out, giggling.

"Well, you are partly right," you answer, now supporting your arms over the kitchen table, "I just wish it was my dorm at least and not Tashi's, you know."

"Right, your roommate; what's the deal with her?" she asks.

¿What's your deal with her? If this were a frankness competition, you'd undoubtedly roast her without needing to lie. Sharing an apartment with an entitled asshole who thinks she owns the place makes it challenging.

"She's not my type," you let out, sighing. "I've been trying to talk to her for God knows how long, and she doesn't give a shit," you pause to breathe through your nose, trying to keep your cool. "Like, I can't understand. Do you know how many people would love to room with me?"

Diana's gasp nearly pierces your eardrum, "She's such a bitch!"

"Yes! She is," you interrupt her, squeaking out your words. "Also, she brings dudes or the same dude, I don't know, like at least twice a week. She doesn't even care if I'm sleeping; what if I throw water at them next time?" you inquire decisively, not caring if your words sound nonsensical.

"You do you, girl," your friend says, slightly chuckling, "I assume she is not there now, isn't she?"

You hum. "She isn't. She is at some dude's place. So that means I have the dorm for myself."

"Don't you care if she is safe or something?" Diana queries, almost instantly biting back a groan in response to your silence. "Yes, I know she's an asshole, but at least you should know. Some guys nowadays are creeps."

"I do, I do..." you hastily assure, your voice tone appeasing your friend's worries. "I do know the guy's name is something like Art, and I could find out his last name if I scroll through our chat. I'm pretty sure it's her current boyfriend. I've heard her talk about him."

"My God, that girl has some real action!" she hollers; a burst of mocking laughter spills out of her lips. "What about you, though? I miss hearing hookup stories from your side. Don't waste your time; Stanford has hot ass guys!"

And she was right. The amount of handsome guys around campus was not minor.

"You know what?" you say, pointing at the air as if you were talking to Diana in person, "I'm not even going to reply to that comment. I've been so focused on-"

Your words are cut off by urgent, loud knocks coming from the main door, "The fuck?" you think. Your jaw clenches but abruptly loosens as you realize Tashi can't be here after her presumptive schedule; you don't expect anyone.

And also, there's a rainstorm outside.

"Was that knocking on the door?" Diana asks, and your attention goes back to the call. You hum in response.

"Yeah, and I'm not expecting anyone." you reaffirm while your hand reaches out to your little notebook, where you keep all the emergency numbers. You sigh out a frustrated "fuck" when you realize you don't have the number of the security guard downstairs. "I should check through the peephole; it's probably a dumbass mistake anyway," you add, trying to sound unbothered.

¿Who the fuck would sneak into an all-student residence? For what, to steal? You haven't bought groceries for two weeks. It would be a shitty investment of skill.

And obviously, you curse yourself under your breath for being such an exaggerated bitch. But, seriously, who would visit you? Not even the wildest of your friends would wander across campus at night with this weather.

"Call me when you do it. I have to do some homework now," Diana demands, and you are snappy to obey and hang up the phone.

You stay still, eyes stuck on the main white door. A minute passes with absolute silence encircling you until you hear the identical frantic knocking again. Same tempo, everything.

"Goddamn, relax," you murmur to yourself.

It takes a couple of steps forward for you to approach the door and a single step to the front to see through the small peephole.

Your eyes wince slightly at the sight of a boy you've never seen in your life standing outside. You even feel the need to comically scratch your head as you notice a short-arm cast dressing up his right arm; how bizarre. "¿Is this mother-fucker trying to rob me?" you talk to yourself, making sure he doesn't hear you. Obviously, he'd predict any regular person to open the door without a doubt –"Poor boy, he's wearing a cast."

"He's too hot to be a thief," your mind suggests. And yes, he is. If you are one hundred percent honest, he seems like he would study at Stanford. He looks kind of familiar, even. You can't clearly analyze his features due to the lack of lighting in the hallway, but when his head tilts to the side, a sharp shadow forms under his jawline, and his blonde curls bounce along with his moves.

You text Diana again. "hot boy at my door x"

Although suspicion is gnawing at the back of your mind, you open the door. With a gentle twist of your wrist, you turn the knob clockwise and cautiously swing the door inward. The hinges creak softly, and the chilly air from the hallway rushes in, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes narrow in recognition —and confusion—for a beat. A lightbulb suddenly flickers on in your mind.

"Hey..." the guy in front of you greets you softly and politely, his voice barely above a whisper.

You have seen his face around, but you can hardly remember his last name—Dawson, Davidson? Something like that.

"...Is Tashi around?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

Your gaze rakes down his figure. He's wearing a Cardinal performance polo from Stanford and thin black polyester shorts, both soaked—presumably from the storm roaring outside. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath, and as if by carnal instinct, your eyes delineate the muscles of his abdomen tightening; the outline of his six-pack is visible through the soaking polo clinging to his torso. Tiny water beads accumulate along the strands of his blonde hair, glistening, growing heavier, and descending onto your doormat with soft plops.

He's hot as fuck, you think. Straight out of one of those cliché Teen People magazine covers. But it's not only his physique. Something about how he stands there, dripping wet, vulnerability mingling with his athletic build, piques your interest. It's sort of contradictory and sexy as fuck.

Your eyes drift down to your own outfit—pajama shorts and a crop top. It's not too practical, considering the chilliness from the residence hallway drives your nipples to react against the thin material of the top. His gaze falters for a second, lowering to your bare midriff, and you catch the way his cheeks redden. You hear how he chokes with his saliva.

But it’s bizarre, too. His functional—left—hand is grasping a large Smirnoff Ice bottle by its neck. Your features smooth out at the sight of the clear glass bottle containing one of your favorite low-alcohol cocktails.

It's a raw lure, just like the owner of the bottle.

But it's still bizarre. Because why is this hot-ass guy holding a delicious-ass drink standing outside of your dorm?

You pull your gaze away from the Smirnoff bottle. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding the booze?" you blurt out, raising a finger to point at the bottle.

Maybe your tone was too sardonic, or it was the uncaring disregard of the Tashi question because the blonde guy's face reddens in a deep shade of crimson —again—spreading rapidly from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Aw, he's embarrassed. His eyesight shifts to the bottle, and he acts as if the bottle magically spawned in his left hand.

But you don't wanna spook the doll away.

You audibly clear your throat, trying to rectify your rudeness. "And no, Tashi's not here," you add, attempting to depict kindness and capture his attention again.

He stays silent. As the rosy hue of his cheeks vanishes, you can sense he's building up the courage to keep interrogating you. "Do you know where she is?" he timidly asks, gliding the bottle under his left arm as if trying to hide it now that his plans are ruined.

The guy's smoking hot but fricking awkward. It doesn't make sense. He's six feet tall, lean, handsome, and muscular; why is he acting all timid? He's standing past your doorframe, practically asking for clearance to trade words with you. It doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, she's staying with this Art guy. Maybe you know him," you say, gaze unconsciously disembarking again on the Smirnoff bottle.

The guy's eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes dart back and forth as if digging for an answer hidden in your dorm. His facial expression gradually shifts from puzzlement to realization and then to frustration.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters under his breath, his voice laced with malice.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning amazement. "Sorry?"

It makes you wanna chuckle at the sudden, humorous switch in his expression.

He inhales sharply, his blue eyes scintillating with sadness and something deeper, perhaps a sense of betrayal? You don't know. "Are you sure Tashi's not here?" he questions again, the tone of his voice hardening. "I'm Art."

The prior flickering lightbulb turns into one illuminating your memory's dim corners. His facial features now have a name: Art Donaldson, another celebrated first-year tennis player. There aren't many Art's around, so the first time you heard his name —even before Tashi— falling out from one of your closest friends' lips on campus, you should've known it was him.

So if he’s Art, that means Tashi lied.

Shit. Tashi's cheating on this guy.

You hope he doesn't notice because you know a flicker of darkness is dancing across your eyes as the seed of an idea takes root in your mind.

A smirk curls your lips as you relish the scrumptious irony. "Oh, you're Art? The one Tashi talks about all the time?" you say, voice dribbling with mockery.

He doesn't respond; he just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. But then he speaks, "Yeah, I guess..."

You seize the moment, reaching out and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff from beneath his arm. "Well, I guess I'll take this," you say, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip. "You won't need it, right?."

You know exactly what chord you want to strike.

Art's jaw tightens, his face a mix of irritation and helplessness, but he doesn't oppose. You can see his struggle and even sense how his mind races to make sense of the situation. He was expecting Tashi, who was not his girlfriend yet, but he had arranged this to get to know her better. Instead, he's faced with you—an unexpectedly attractive challenge.

And, of course, he wanted it. There was the initial shock at finding you instead of Tashi, but an undeniable attraction stirred something profound within him —a foreign sensation he hadn't felt before. And he's by no means a virgin or a "lame-ass," as Patrick would call him from time to time. Art knows how to have fun. But he's used to the upstarting idea that women must be salivating over merely hearing his name. That's why he obsessed over Tashi Duncan; she is dominant.

But of course, fucking Patrick had to take her tonight.

You lower the bottle, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Or maybe you shouldn't go back to the rain," you say with a shrug, "you could come inside in case Tashi comes back, and I'd think about sharing the Smirnoff with you."

He hesitates.

You step aside, holding the door open wider. "You don't wanna go back to the rain, don't you?" you add with a mischievous grin.

For a heartbeat, he stands there, his resolve wavering. Then, with a resigned sigh, he steps forward, crossing the threshold into your college dorm like a lost puppy.

You close the door behind him, drawn to let out a scream when he's not looking after how things were interestingly evolving. The room grows warmer for Art and you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken intentions from both sides. You take another sip of the Smirnoff, savoring the lemony taste.

"Make yourself comfortable," you express, gesturing to the modest common area where the kitchen is. Art follows your lead, his movements stiff from the water and his arm cast.

He's about to push back the strap of his black Adidas duffel bag to roll it down his right arm —cause he was holding THAT and the Smirnoff bottle, when he turns to you and, contemplating his words, he speaks, "Do you think I can use your shower?"

"You would do it anyways if Tashi was here instead of me, so..."

Art takes that as a yes.

The bottle of Smirnoff sits nearly empty on the wooden night table beside your bed. Although you had explained earlier to Art that Smirnoff ice was "inoffensive alcohol," it hadn't failed to cultivate an effect of tipsiness in both of your warm bodies. Art's initial awkwardness had been disbanded by the bitterness of the alcohol coursing through his veins. And your mean facade had shifted into a more loquacious, sarcastic, and bold one.

The common area had grown colder. In one instance of exorbitant bravery, you offered to move to your room— Art had said yes way too fast. The space was cozier and filled with your personal touches.

Art is sitting on your bed, the back of his head supported against the wall, while you lie on your stomach beside him, propped up on your elbows, attentively hearing as he converses about another obscene anecdote of his. The dim yellow lighting from the led lights from your side of the wall casts a soft glow over both of you, making you equally horny and exhausted —the calming sound of the rainstorm outside didn't help.

Art had changed into a grey T-shirt with "Stanford Tennis" printed across the chest. His strawberry blonde hair is nearly dry and slightly tousled...

The rich, warm sound of Art laughing fills the room and clocks you out of the trance. "...I swear, I walk in and see Tashi doing some nasty, weird thing to him. The next morning was hell for him. I couldn't believe he was into that type of shit."

"God, was she pegging him?" you giggle, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.

Art chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want me to get more explicit."

You pout playfully. "Don't be an asshole. Tell me."

Art raises an eyebrow, intrigued, half-smirking. "Why are you so interested? Are you going through abstinence?"

The truth is yes but against your will. The bad thing is that you can't filter the information spilling out of your mouth whenever you drink.

"Depends. Are you gonna bully me if I say yes?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

The rhetorical question prompts Art to tilt his head, confused. "I'm not a playboy myself. And also..." he slightly lifts his right arm with the cast, alluding to it. "After my injury, I can't do much."

Your thoughts started tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. You started picturing too many scenarios where Art would still be able to fuck with the arm cast on. The amount of vivid, fleeting mental scenarios internally summoning the attention you couldn't provide right now makes you feel physically ill and euphoric.

"That is not true."

He giggles again, a sound that causes your heart to flutter despite your mind warning you about potential word vomiting. "Well, I can't even jerk it off. Is that enough for you?"

"Not really. There's plenty of stuff you can still do. Ask someone to give you a blowjob or something," You suggest, way more convinced of your comment than you should.

Art’s natural smirk fades as he processes your sentence, his eyes squinting as if he's about to test something. He's holding back a chuckle, "That's a wild thing to say to someone you met two hours ago."

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, "Don't tell me you are one of those people who think sex is taboo."

"Hey, no, I'm not." He raises his left hand in front of you, palm open and facing outward. "Asking someone to suck my dick is just gonna give me a fat restraining order."

At this point, the notion of reality has altered for you. Not much, but to the extent things that would commonly make you pause and reconsider your life choices now seemed perfectly reasonable, even hilarious. "Asking this guy I just met to fuck me? Awesome!" You think. You feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie, a genuine tie to Art, fueled by the shared silliness of the circumstances and nasty anecdotes of this so-called Patrick.

"Oh, please..." You wave your hand carelessly as if waving away his absurd comment. "Who would put a restraining order over that?"

"What would you do if someone asked you to suck their dick?"

But, before replying, you push yourself up onto your knees. The bed creaks softly as you shift, and you slide your legs out from under you, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"So?" he insists as you finish changing your position.

"Oh my god. Well, it depends on who's asking."

Your last words hang in the air between you and Art, electrifying and charged with suggestive tension. Predisposing yourself to Art's potential lack of boldness, you let the tipsiness strip away your remaining self-respect. "If you asked me, I wouldn't say no," you add.

Your words cut through the alcohol-induced haze like a sharp blade, leaving Art momentarily sober. It's difficult for him to think properly. It feels like a thick fog full of thoughts and bitter rememberings encircles him, but you cannot see it.

He helplessly daydreams about the scenario where this is Tashi instead of you, tossing salacious remarks at him and attending to whatever crap he chooses to say. But it isn't. He doesn't know you properly; he hasn't seen your serve or even how you hold a tennis racquet. And you haven't seen much from him either.

Patrick doesn't know about you either. His Patrick, with the captivating smile and the big-dick aura. The one that has been setting him up with women forever, as if he couldn't do it on his own.

That's how he realizes the attraction towards you —even if purely carnal, is authentic and unpretentious. It's not polluted with anything else. You aren't flirting with him because you eventually want to mess around with Patrick.

There's bone-deep curiousness humming through Art's veins, but he won't fuck up the first time a gorgeous girl wants to fuck him.

"Then I guess I should ask you," Art states, attempting to maintain his voice steady as his heart plummets.

You lean in closer, your faces now inches apart. The dim glow of the led lights casts a golden hue over your skin, making the moment feel even more surreal for Art. “Good, 'cause I have wanted to do you since you knocked on my door."

The familiar aching warmth starts to pool at the bottom of your abdomen as Art's lips attack yours, parting them with easiness; you kiss him fiercely, savoring a mixture of Smirnoff Ice and spearmint. Art kisses you like he's starved of it; he slips his tongue inside like he has been patiently deferring his devilish invasive thoughts. He is, damn, a wonderful kisser. Flawlessly proportional: immodest, licking into your mouth, so sexually arousing, at the same time so tender, holding you close with such courtesy it makes you want to scream.

With the strength of his left hand, he draws your body closer to his, deepening his mouth as much as possible on yours. The contact makes your stomach jolt, tardily falling into account you are blending Art's masculine scent with yours. Art's upper-body muscles harden at the ecstasy, and the subtle contour of the veins on his arm arises on his skin, popping out as he possessively grasps your waist.

Between wet kisses, his mouth quakes as he lets out a hushed chuckle, "Wait, is it true... what you said?" he mutters into your mouth and raises your chin, taking a pair of hot seconds to look at you straight in the eye.

You relish the sensation of his fingers racing down your waist and descending on your hips, gently squeezing; your hands are holding onto the nape of his neck, caressing his skin. You kiss him again and roll his bottom lip between your teeth, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone so bad," you husk into his ear, words purring as you teasingly lick his ear lobe, lowering the wet kisses until you end up licking down his throat. You trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down his skin; your nails scratch lightly over his back, folding at the sensation of his warmness capturing yours.

Art swears he's about to pass out.

You swing one leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. Art wastes no time, lining his hips with yours, pressing and grinding, compelling your body to feel small in his presence; the mean grip of his hand drops to the end of your back, slowly running down your sides to cup your ass over your pajama shorts, slowly plunging his fingers on your skin. Quick, discreet moans slip out of your mouth, each one driving Art to his edge. The hardness of his cock pushes against your pussy, making you gasp between kisses.

Your cheeks prick with heat as you hear a clap sound, a slap against someone's skin: your skin. Art spanked your ass rough, and you could anticipate the red handprint remaining in your butt for a couple of hours. His hand smacks again, grasping the over-sensitive plush of your ass at the end, making your muscle throb, "Art!" you whimper, squirming.

"Don't be too loud," he whispers against your neck, demanding.

Art's lips trail down your jawline; his breath catches in his throat every time the aroma of you transits to his chest. You tilt your head back to grant him better access, and your vision goes fuzzy as you discern Art's teeth sucking and biting on your neck, "...d-don't mark my neck," you add between whimpers, piercing his eardrum in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Can I mark this, then?" he snaps back, his right-hand cupping one of your tits over the material. The lustfulness creeping through your body evolves into dizziness, changing how your heart palpitates.

You overtake him and take your crop top swiftly without wanting to see him making extra effort. You audibly gasp when he determines to bury his face between your tits, his thumb and pointing finger skillfully rubbing and then rolling your nipples between his fingertips.

You are so fucking overwhelmed. Art realizes, and with a wicked smirk plastered on his face, he gives a low coo, "You are so sensitive-"

"Shut the fuck up," you cuss softly, thrusting your chest out, slightly arching your back at the filling sensation. A slimy coverage of saliva grows over your left nipple; Art's mouth works over your bud, flicking with his tongue, making you impossibly wet, "Art, please, I need-"

"Need what?" he glances up at you, neglecting your nipples coated in spit, the cool breeze clashing against your skin and prickling your dermis with goosebumps.

You pant under your breath as his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. You grab his hand and put it away, "I'll take care of you."

Your gaze descends to admire the outline of his cock, pushing against the thin fabric of his shorts. "Let me taste you," you beg, tracing a finger down his chest and reaching the waistband of his shorts.

"Pretty convenient since I can't do much, huh?" Art suppresses a laugh.

You don't say much. You come off his lap to drag him to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpeted ground. As you sink lower, you unconsciously smile at the things you will tell Diana tomorrow.

You squat down on your feet, your hands positioned on Art's thighs, supporting your body in case you lose balance. You palm his clothed dick, rubbing your fingertips against the slim layer of clothing, anticipating how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth; you shoot Art an incredulous look, enjoying his heavy-lidded, lustful grimace.

Your fingers hook around the waistband of those goddamn shorts, sliding them down, along with his underwear. In one fluid motion, his cock springs free with his reddening, glistening tip slapping against his stomach.

You think this is the perfect situation to overpraise him. You assume these guys love it. Tennis players with a big ego —and a big dick.

"You are so big, Donaldson," you praise, prolonging the word so seductively and not breaking eye contact with the blonde guy. You admire him, captivated by how his Adam's apple twitches; he gulps.

Your fingers wrap around his length, gripping his base, starting to stroke, gingerly moving from base to tip, stopping to rub his swollen tip and spread pre-cum along his shaft, simulating lube. His muscles tremble at the touch, yanking at your hair. You dart your tongue out, flattening it, licking his cock up and down, kitten-licking his thick tip and sweeping your lips across it, loudly slurping the shiny, gooey substance leaking from his dick. Art's torso feels deficient in oxygen as you lock eyes with him, simultaneously stroking his cock mercilessly, sucking on his head; his lungs ache for air.

You bob your head slightly, and your mouth opens wide, taking him further and increasing your pace. Your mouth is warm and wet; he can't wait to stretch other holes if you feel exceptionally good like this.

"How does it feel?" you take a look at Art's journey, who has his head thrown back. You want him so bad to praise you back. When his head returns to its place, you meet eyes with him and give a tantalizing squeeze to his cock, eager for more reaction. His fingers jump to run through his hair, exasperated.

You don't —and can't know that Art is holding it back already. He's been holding it back since the moment you straddled him, and he could feel the warm wetness of your pussy over his throbbing dick.

In desperation, he pushes your head, positioning your lips straight over his dick, "Please, princess," you obey and put it inside your mouth again.

He lets out a groan when his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You try to relax and breathe through your nose, allowing him to hit it constantly, deep-throating his length, drooling over his cock, swallowing around him. He strains his hips forward, tugs your hair, and essentially fucks your throat without requiring you to do anything but suck and be good for him.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel the muscles of his legs unconsciously twitching. He's close.

When his hand on your hair pushes you up, you resist and stay there for longer, anxiously waiting for his cum to hit your throat. With a rough jerk of his hips, you finally taste his sperm filling your mouth. You swallow it.

"Shit," Art mutters, hyperventilating and staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "You just made me reconsider if I'm still precocious."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Or maybe I give good head?"

After catching his breath, his eyes fall over your figure. There's something so amusing about you, and it's definitely not the remaining mix of cum and spit over the corners of your mouth.

It's just you.

The rain continues to fall outside, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse of his heartbeat. It wasn't the post-nut clarity that made him philosophical, but he can genuinely feel that the only thing that matters is how amazing he has felt around you.

Art breaks the silence. "Let me take you out tomorrow night."

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #fanfic #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #x reader #challengers x reader #female reader

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just1cefor4ll · 1 year ago

Note

How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3

The devil with his angel

Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’

a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.

In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.

Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.

The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”

Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.

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Joost Klein

@joostklein✓

It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.

Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others

user79107 and 568K others commented

bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3

user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND

fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12

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{your nickname}

@{yourusername} ✓

I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..

You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx

Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others

hihixlovers and 567K others commented

lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr

apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!

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After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.

You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.

You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”

About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#joost klein x y/n #joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein requests #stand with joost #joostice #justice for joost #free joost #joost #eurovision #eurovision x reader #eurovision fanfiction #female reader #x fem!reader #fem!driver #fluff

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grandisknight · 9 months ago

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zayne: a doctor's companion

summary: A certain healthcare companion finds its way into Linkon City, and a particular doctor is about to discover what it means to say ba-la-la-la-lah.

tags: established relationship, baymax (big hero 6), fluff, canon-complaint, one-shot, medical terms, phone call, gender neutral reader mentioned, mostly zayne's POV, first meetings

word count: 1.8k | (ao3)

notes: inspired by this tweet! also i just love baymax a lot and i think him and zayne would be a cute duo thank you ; including the stanford article i read for the surgery mentioned here! (not necessary for understanding though) (also if i get any med stuff wrong apologies i did my best! i was a girl in stem but not Stem yk)

+ update: the cutest zayne baymax art just dropped everyone say thank you mimi (zaynefied) (i cried)

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

Zayne was sure he had slept well the night before. Had his full eight hours, breakfast accomplished and a handful of kisses from his partner before heading out in his pristine, white coat. The drive to work was the same scenery of Linkon City rushing past, soon parked in his designated lot and tracing a familiar path towards Akso Hospital’s entrance.

So, even with such a practiced routine, how did he end up here?

“I will scan you now. Please remain in place, Dr. Zayne.”

Zayne raises a hand in an effort to dissuade his unforeseen guest. “That won't be necessary.” But his rejection, in turn, was rejected itself—his brows narrowed at the losing notion.

“But it is. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” The robot calmly states, reflecting a similar monotone diction to the doctor. “I was alerted to the need of medical attention,” he continues, plush footsteps along the hardwood floor squeaking as he approaches the seated doctor. "When you said 'Oof.' So, I am here."

That singular oof traced back to the faint murmur under Zayne's breath just minutes ago when pushing through the growing crowd of peering eyes at Baymax's unprecedented presence. An unusual sight for everyday work life, the mysterious yet kind robot drew in the attention of incoming patients and passersby who happened to catch a glimpse. Zayne’s opportune timing and arrival to work hurriedly whisked away the looming inflatable as crowds huddled in growing excitement, geeking and gossiping alike. Most of his efforts thus far were put into escorting the curiously soft giant through the pristine halls and past the doorway of his office without garnering further unwarranted attention.

And currently, Zayne found himself subjected to a consultation by said robot.

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Baymax inquires. A chart of faces ranging in emotion and color flash over his chest in display. At the highest end stood a red expression painted in anguish, and to the lowest was a green facade of serenity.

Quickly, Zayne plainly states his number to mirror his current state. “Zero.”

Baymax stares him down with the abyss of his rather blank eyes wordlessly after receiving the response. In mere seconds, a pixelated, monotone hum with a hint of warmth made its way to Zayne’s ears. “Scan complete. You have sustained no recent injuries. However, your cortisol and neurotransmitter levels indicate that you are experiencing stress.”

No, really? Zayne’s brows and posture straightened then, removing his glasses and setting them aside. He echoes the conclusion, pushing down the unspoken remark with a bite of his tongue. “Stress? Is that so?”

Baymax nods, holding up a singular finger as he continues to reveal his findings. “This can be attributed to, for example, overconsumption of sugary foods or work overload. Have you had any of these two things recently?”

Zayne’s lips purse in thought, remembering the new maple syrup you had doused his pancakes in over an hour ago. ‘I picked this up during an overseas mission and thought you might like it,’ you explained to him, drawing an intricately sticky pattern of hearts atop his breakfast. It was still just syrup—not so much a difference in flavor to a regular one you could find at the nearby supermarket—but he was grateful for the gift nonetheless as he indulged in the sweet treat with you.

“Sugar, yes. Nothing wrong with it when done in moderation.”

Sure, he had a sweet tooth. But had been doing well to maintain a healthy intake of sugary pieces, lest he wanted another round of your ‘scoldings’ and an appointment to the neighboring orthodontist again.

With a slight sigh, he clasps his hands together over the expanse of his desk and continues. As for workload? He was almost always caught up in it, whether it were hands-on procedures or consultations. Today was no exception to the rule.

“And I do have work, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“I see. May I make a suggestion?” Baymax asks.

Zayne gives him a curt signal of acknowledgement. “You may.”

“I can assist you with said workload. I am equipped with several modules and sensors that will be of use.”

Zayne contemplates for a moment, curious to the veracity of such a claim. Well, when one forms a hypothesis, the best way to test out the theory was through a designed experiment; and he was ready to do just that. “Alright. Give me just a moment.”

With a couple of speedy taps, Zayne pulls up a recent patient file and gestures for Baymax to approach. As the airy robot bounces into place beside him, Zayne points towards a diagram, a series of numbers and waves indicating observational data. “Here. Based on what you see, can you tell me what surgery this patient underwent?”

Baymax follows the trail of red lines, analyzing quickly in succession. “Their ECG fluctuations are affected by the noraderaline administrations over time. This line,” Baymax points to a blue parallel. “Indicates the oxygen levels throughout the surgery duration.” Calmly, he turns to blink at Zayne. “Diagnosis? The patient underwent a coronary artery bypass grafting procedure.”

Zayne nodded. Each detail was right on par, much to his surprise. “I’m impressed. Your creator must have put a lot of great effort into you.”

“He did. He was wonderful.” Baymax gives a thumbs up in return. “Am I to take it that I have passed your test?”

So he knew, even without having to say anything. “You have,” Zayne confirms with a small smile.

“Here.” Baymax raises his fingers and curls them into a fist, waiting for Zayne to meet him halfway. Slowly, Zayne does just that, meeting the soft plush before it was pulled away and sealed with a robotic tune.

“Ba-la-la-la-lah.”

“Bah… What now?”

“We have completed our first task together. This warrants a celebratory fist bump.” Baymax returns his enclosed fist towards the confused doctor once more. “You must also say it while our fists connect.”

Not finding it in himself to disagree, Zayne repeats the actions from before and adds on with an unsure, “Ba-la-lah.” Slightly strange, though it held a tinge of endearment that reminded him of a certain someone; he suddenly didn’t mind it as much then, shaking his head to himself.

It satisfied Baymax all the same, hand wiggling away before a sound disrupts the next file to be displayed. Zayne’s phone rings then, a custom set of notes indicating there was only one special caller. Your name flashed on his screen, buzzing in patience as his gaze flicked between that and Baymax.

“Do you mind if I take this?”

Baymax blinks. “I do not mind.”

“Thank you.”

With a swipe, Zayne presses his phone to the cup of his ear, voice softening to answer your call. “Good morning. Are you heading out now?”

“Morning! How did you know?”

Zayne could make out the rustling of keys with the pattern of your footsteps, a light yet amused scoff from him trickling into the receiver. Even if it weren’t for the traces of noise, you usually left around this time and always texted him a new emoji without missing a day. So, of course he knew. You followed up almost immediately with another answer to support your stance.

“New mission just came in, and it happens to be near Akso. Guess we’ll be seeing each other again pretty soon.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks at the idea. “What requires you to be in the area, exactly?” Zayne’s hazel hues instinctively settle on the black pools of Baymax’s blink, already knowing the answer that you proceeded to relay.

“There was a… Wanderer sighted?” Even over the phone, your voice relayed doubt amidst a warm crackling sound. “Well it’s not exactly one…allegedly. But rather something big, round and white? Tara said it looked like a walking marshmallow,” you chuckled. Well, it’s not like you were wrong, Zayne confirms with another glance.

“Either way, it’s caused an uproar and the Association is sending me to check it out. I’m assuming you already know what it is?”

“I do.” Baymax tilts his head, pointing a finger to himself in quiet curiosity. Zayne raises his own to his mouth, indicating for a secret to be kept as he muses into the call. “And no, not a Wanderer. Stop by my office when you get here and you’ll see.”

“I’ll be there in 15 if traffic is kind to me,” you chirped in reply. He could make out the humming of your motorcycle come to life, indicating the start of your journey. “See you then! Love you.”

“Alright. Love you too. Be safe.”

As the call came to an end, Zayne shifted his gaze to the even shiftier companion before him. Though Baymax couldn’t necessarily smile, the doctor could feel it radiating off of its plush form as he lifted a familiar finger.

“Your pulse and heart rate have quickened greatly. The rate went from 87 beats per minute to 102 in about ten seconds.” Baymax pauses, and a screen with infographics begins to luminate across his chest once more. “Symptoms may include, but are not limited to, your pituitary glands—“

“I’m aware of how hearts work.” Zayne gestures around to their environment, the glimmer of his name tag reflecting the morning sun filtering through the tall windows. “And… everything else.”

He was a cardiac surgeon, first and foremost. His efforts and contributions have earned him plenty of accolades in the field, a testament to his brilliance and especially at a younger age in comparison to his medical peers. But second to none was he also your partner—naturally, his heart would’ve soared regardless. He was aware of the source to his increased palpitations.

“You are also smiling,” Baymax comments. “Does this person make you happy?”

Zayne freezes then, unbeknownst of how the edges of his lips were curled into a gentle grin. His mouth almost straightens, fingertips brushing over them in thought. He lets out a resounding hum in confirmation, looking away bashfully for a brief moment. “Very much so.”

“That is good. Having someone who makes you ‘happy’ will improve your quality of life.” As if sending him his seal of approval, Baymax gives an affirmative fist of encouragement. No sooner did a wrapped lollipop appear between said fist, and he held it towards Zayne in offering. “Here, have a lollipop.”

“Thank you.” Zayne takes the candy in acceptance, wrapper crinkling in removal before a taste of winterberry spreads across his tongue. “Shall we go through another file until a certain someone comes barging in?”

He could already imagine how your grand entrance would play out, and this time, knowingly smiles to himself at the thought.

With an enthusiastic nod, Baymax takes a nearby chair and places it beside Zayne’s own. Deflating slightly to fit the mold, he puffs up once more in preparation.

“I am ready. Let’s work together, Dr. Zayne.”

#love and deepspace #zayne #baymax #lads zayne #lnds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lads imagine #love and deepspace imagines #lads fic #lnds fic #zayne x reader #zayne x you #love and deepspace scenarios #lads scenarios #grandisknight fics #gklnd

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the---hermit · 6 months ago

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how I take notes on non fiction books

I recently made a post on my study method, and decided to make a whole separate post on my note taking method. The structure of the notes I write doesn't vary too much from my lecture notes to things I might have to read. A couple of useful informations you might want to know before I start actually talking about note writing is that I am mainly focused on studying history (tho I have had other humanities exams in my degrees), and that I study for oral exams in which the material is mainly composed of non fiction books, but sometimes include articles as well as lecture notes. Somehow I have also failed to mention that I am speaking about HANDWRITTEN NOTES. I only do handwritten notes, I don't work well digitally, so keep that in mind. And with this being said brace yourselves for a very long post. The bullet points I will be making are not really in a specific order and I will be including a few pictures too.

The first step when I am working on the materials for an exam is to figure out in which order I will be reading (and writing notes) the books. This hasn't really much to do with the notes themselves, but it's important to know which of your materials is more general and what other things go more in depth, so that you don't struggle too much while studying. Another plan related thing I always do is to write down each chapter of the book I have to study on my bullet journal and how many pages it is so I can plan my studying more comfortably. If the chapters are very long, and divided in subchapters I sometimes also write those down.

The goal of the notes I write is to fully take the place of the book, so they tend to be very detailed and long. I do this because the very act of writing is part of my study method, and working on things I have written down in my own words is just much better for the type of learner I am. So basically I read the book only once, then it goes back on the shelf and I work exclusively on the notes. This means my notes need to be detailed and well organized.

My method is to read a chapter, underlining important stuff as I am reading, and then right after I am done reading I work on the notes for that chapter before moving onto the next. I do this because it makes the note writing more effortless, I am fresh with informations I just read and I basically just need to skim over what I have underlined.

On underlining, since it is so important. I underline everything I will be including in my notes, it might seem much as sometimes it consists of full paragraphs, instead of key words. But this is okay because my notes I don't just copy and paste.

To create useful notes you need to be re-elaborating the informations. You need to read, understand what you read, and be able to write it down using your own words. That way the notes will be easier to review, they will often be composed of shorter sentences, and by doing so you are also actively making writing part of your studying and not just a mindless activity.

Personally I don't work well with full pages summaries, I need the text to be visually broken into sentences/small paragraphs, and I use a lot of symbols as well as abbreviations.

Symbols and abbreviations are in a way part of your very own language when you are writing notes, you tend to develop these with time, but they are so useful. I personally use different types of arrows, all caps words, position of the text in the page, different methods of highlighting and abbreviations (usually for words that come up often like country names, for example Italy becomes ita, France becomes fr, etc.).

Your notes need to be useful for you, they don't have to necessarily be comprehensible for another person (which means you can and will fuck up sentence structure because sometimes skipping a couple of words makes the notes shorter and still understandable), and they do not have to be pretty. They should be as tidy as possible, but again that might change from person to person, I have some very messy looking notes that make total sense to me. With time you'll learn what works best for you.

I have a visual memory so as I mentioned titles, highlighters, all caps, the placement on the page and other similar things are very important in my notes. I cannot fully exapain some of these things because some definitely only make sense to me in the moment (like the words I choose to write in all caps, or the way I highlight things).

I like to have a clear chapter and subchapter break (so that in case I need to refer back to the book it's super effortless). I like to write those with a red pen, usually the chapter title is in all caps and the subchapter in coursive, but it really depends.

I use only two highlighters in each set of notes yellow for dates, and the colour I associate with the book/the subject of the book (I have synesthesia I don't make the rules when it comes to colours). This of course might change depending your preferences and on the element of your notes you want to focus on. I like to have spacific colour for dates and time periods, because of course while studying history that is a fundamental element. If you are focusing on other subjects you might want to have a specific colour for names, or other elements.

I like to leave a big side margin to add either key words (especially in lecture notes since they might be messier and jump around informations more often), or additional information in a second time (sometimes it happens, after you read another book, or attended a particular lecture you have to add a couple of sentences and I rather have a blank space that never gets used rather than no space at all for emergencies).

I honestly mentioned everything that came to mind right away, but since note writing is now basically a mindless skill I have been practicing for years I surely forgot about something. I might end up adding to this post in the future or write another one. My note-writing method has also changed a lot thought the years from high school to university, it's a skill I have been perfecting for the past decade. This to say that depending on what you are working on things might change, and by experimenting with different things you might find out things that work very well for you. If you have any questions on specific things I didn't mention or that wen't clear my inbox is always open and I am more than happy to help.

Since this post is already very very long I am adding the pictures below the cut

Example of a page of notes before and after highlighting

Example of symbols and structure of the notes and the way I highlight things (in which you'll hopefully be able to understand my handwriting, and in which there might be some spelling errors but alas that often happens in my real notes as well so if there are any it's for the sake of accuracy lmao). If I end up adding informations on the margins I always use a pen of a different color so I can tell which informations I got from what source (ex. main notes from lecture, colorful notes from additional article).

Example of messier notes in which the main text in black are the notes I took during lectures and the additional colorful text was added while writing the materials (I rarely do this, it usually happens when the lectures follow a book precisely, which happens when we have to study books or summaries written by the professor). As you can see I often use post it notes to add more writing space, and sometime I even use them to create visually separated sections. If I end up adding some drawings I also usually like to have them on post it notes so they stand out more (and if you are wondering why the hell would an history student need drawings it's usually either because I need a map or a region/state to mark things out, or when studying for archaeology exams I often needed visual references, for example to identify different types of vases or decorations).

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