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Invest in ppl

[miedei]

nonexistent rizz

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled???? (aka, the team discovers that early seasons!spence has a girlfriend)

a/n: first cm fic!!! super indulgent, deffo way longer than it had to be but I don’t care, I love love love the dynamic of the s1/s2 team and I NEEDED to write it (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), completely inaccurate early 2000s technology i think, cuties being cute, not edited in any way

wc: 2k

part two | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

“‘O Keefe’s! My wonderful, wonderful sweethearts, we are going out!” The moment the team steps out of the elevator, Penelope is bombarding them, hands moving wildly as words seem to tumble out of her mouth. “And yes, Hotch, I am sure we have no cases lined up yet, and yes, I’m sure JJ can corroborate that the moment she gets to her office and no, you may not stay behind, tonight is compulsory. That stands for you too, Gideon!”

Hotch hasn’t even opened his mouth, shaking his head in defeat as he takes in Garcia’s determined face. Under the watchful eyes of the team, his shoulders slump, a tired hand scrubbing down his face. “Fine. We all have to finish our reports, but if we’re all done in half an hour, we can go. Gideon?” He turns his face, hoping for Gideon to find a way to bunk off, but there’s a glint of amusement in the older man’s eye. “Sounds like there’s no getting out of it.” With that, he walks off, to his office. 

Penelope whoops excitedly, “Okay! That means we’re all going! That’s the first time since Gideon came back,” but her face sets slightly when she meets Spencer’s eye. “No. No, Baby Genius, you will not do this to me,”

“Garcia, I have pl-” “No! You are coming out with us, and we’re going to have a great time, and whatever Russian indie film you were going to watch will still be there for you tomorrow. Okay? No more complaining, baby, you know I won’t listen.” With a pat on his shoulder, she flounces off. Defeated, he doesn’t move from the elevator area, shrugging helplessly when Elle, JJ and Morgan brush past him to the bullpen. 

With a sigh, he takes out his phone, pressing his newly-programmed speed dial and bringing the phone to his ear. From Derek’s vantage point in the bullpen, he can see Spencer, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors, and he can see the moment whoever is on the other side picks up. The younger man’s face lights up, like when he’s on the receiving end of a rare Hotch smile out in the field, but more spirited, buoyant. Only snippets of the conversation float in through the slightly-ajar glass doors, but they’re enough to give him pause, and still his fingers above his keyboard.

“...Garcia’s got this plan for us all, and…”

“Yes, I know, I do like going out with them, but that’s not what I wanted to do…”

“...I took the metro tonight, so I think I’ll just… Really? You want to?”

At that point, Spencer turns, his voice muffling, and keeping Derek from his vested interest in his conversation. But what little he heard is more than enough to pique his interest. He flicks a pencil onto Elle’s desk. “Greenaway. You know if pretty boy’s mom is in town or something?” Elle looks up from her monitor, head tilting, “Not that I know of. Besides, doesn’t she not like flying? I don’t think he’d have her come here. Why do you ask?”

Derek doesn’t reply, simply gesturing to the glass doors, where Spencer is walking inside, his mouth twitching to conceal his smile. His steps are measured, like he’s trying to feign calm. He settles at his desk, hunching his back in a way that can’t be comfortable, typing rapidly as his knee jiggles up and down. Elle turns back to Derek, eyes wide with wonder. 

“That is not how you look getting off the phone with your mother.”

The incident is quickly forgotten, however, when the BAU team are crammed into a booth in the back of the low-lit bar. Penelope has roped Hotch into helping her bring drinks back from the bar, and the rest are speaking a little too loudly, arms flinging and bumping into the empty glasses littering the table. 

All except for Gideon, who, despite having had three glasses of whiskey, is still just as calm and observant as he is fully sober. It is this that causes him to zero in on Spencer, sitting across from him, sandwiched between Morgan and the newly-returned Garcia. 

There’s a pink flush across his high cheekbones, and he’s incredibly giggly, all things that are completely expected for him, a few drinks in. However, what the experienced profiler picks up on, are his darting eyes. Spencer can often be found staring into the middle distance, or, since Gideon taught him the importance of building rapport with victims and officers alike, trained steadily on the space between someone’s eyebrows, but this time it’s different.

His eyes flick to whoever’s talking, feigning interest, but every few seconds, it turns back down to his lap, where something is clutched in the hand he keeps under the table. If it were Hotch, Gideon would know with absolute certainty that he was watching his phone, waiting for a text from Haley.

But this is Spencer. The youngest person he knows. The youngest person he knows whose technological knowledge is somehow worse than Gideon’s own. What on earth would have Spencer acting- 

Oh. Gideon nearly gasps at Spencer’s movements. On his fifteenth peek down at his lap, Spencer stiffens, then draws his hand up from his lap to get closer to his face. It is his phone, and Spencer Reid has somehow learned to text as quickly as Morgan does. His thumbs fly over the buttons on his phone, and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

Gideon’s eyes furrow, and he can’t hold back from nudging Hotch’s shoulder, pointing in Spencer’s direction. Hotch pulls himself away from his conversation with JJ, and Gideon can see his expression morph from mild interest, to confusion, to complete bewilderment. After a beat, his face turns to meet Gideon’s and his normally stoic demeanor is shaken, eyes wide. 

Spencer, however, doesn’t even notice his mentors’ faces, still tapping away at his phone and craning his neck to look around the bar. 

It’s a while later, when JJ has pulled the team (minus Hotch and Gideon) onto the dance floor, a few drinks past tipsy at this point. She’s laughing out loud, holding Elle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. Penelope and Derek are mock-waltzing, bursting into laughter every few steps, and Spencer… 

JJ pauses for a moment, before Elle pulls her into moving again. Her head whips around, trying to find Spencer, before giving up. He must be back at the table with Hotch and Gideon, he was never very comfortable dancing anyway. 

The four on the dance floor quickly devolve into a mess, swapping partners until they’re all dizzy and laughing. JJ and Penelope are shimmying back and forth together, when Penelope gasps a little, tapping JJ’s arm without ceasing her movements. “Jayj! Look, see that girl at the bar?” She gestures subtly at a younger woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a purple wrap top that has JJ sighing wistfully. 

“Pen, I think I’ve seen my soulmate. Would it be weird for me to crawl over there and beg her for her shirt?” Penelope giggles, gripping JJ’s forearms so they can sway to the music dramatically. “Just a little, my sweet. How about we go ask her where it’s from, though? I think that would be a little more…” She goes uncharacteristically silent, and it has JJ twisting to see what shut her up. However, Penelope tightens her grip on her arms, keeping her from moving. 

“JJ. My love, my heart. You’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?” Now she’s worried. JJ nods quickly, deciding to just focus on Penelope. “Yeah, Garcia, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m seeing things, and you are one of the most qualified people in the world to tell me if I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn us around, and you’re going to look at the woman in that gorgeous top, and you are going to either scream, or send me off to Hotch for a psychological evaluation.” Her tone is serious, hushed, and JJ nods solemnly. 

The intricate plan is conducted, and JJ is now facing the bar, her eyes searching for the girl, when she stiffens, sucking in a breath. “Yes! I’m not crazy, you see it right? What is going on!” Penelope smacks her arm repeatedly, but JJ can’t tear her eyes away from it. It being something she couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for, not in her wildest imaginations.

The girl is sitting on a barstool, sipping at a cocktail, and chatting to… Spencer. Spencer, the BAU’s Spencer, child-prodigy-lovable-dork-awkward-mess Spencer Reid, is stood in between her legs, smiling down at Mystery Girl without a hint of fear. It’s devastatingly sweet, his eyes soft in a way she’s never seen before, as he nods along with whatever she’s saying. Penelope jolts her out of her trance with a tap to the arm, JJ whispering, “He’s so… carefree.” 

That’s the only way to describe it. He’s looking down at her, eyes locked onto hers, and he’s still. His hands aren’t tapping, his leg isn’t shaking. He’s just looking at her. 

JJ can feel Morgan and Elle huddle near her, questioning Penelope about what they’re looking at, before shutting up as they see it. She hears them take twin gasps, and huddle even closer. They stand in silence, surely a hindrance to the people dancing, but they can’t tear themselves away. 

It’s only when Spencer shatters their worlds once more that they finally find themselves able to move. Four pairs of eyes follow him, as he leans even further towards Mystery Girl, and they all bulge at once when he raises a hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Penelope whispers, “oh my god”, Elle grips JJ’s arm in a vice grip, and Derek makes an unseemly noise, before gripping their arms, tugging them back to the booth. 

They collapse in the seats, faces pale as they look at each other, next to a very confused Gideon and Hotch. 

“What? What is it?” Hotch questions them, brow furrowed deeply. None of them speak, however. Only Elle lifts a weak hand to point. She directs their attention to the sight at the bar, and they all turn back to it, gasping once again. They’re… “kissing,” Derek breathes, shocked. Hotch and Gideon stiffen, but still crane their heads until their eyes fall on what has rendered their highly trained team speechless. And their reactions are just as silent.

Mystery Girl has stood up, her arms around Spencer’s neck, and he’s leaned down to meet her lips, hands braced on her hips. It’s honestly not that scandalous, a lazy, casual kiss that they part from with twin smiles, but the FBI agents can’t handle it. They don’t say a word, straining their ears to hear whatever she is saying as he holds her hand (Penelope lets out a squeak at that), and walks with her towards the door, not even noticing that his coworkers have returned to the booth. Her voice is low, but Hotch manages to pick up a few of the words. 

“...go home and watch that movie I was telling you about? Metropolis, I think you’ll really…” And they’re off. Spencer Reid has left a bar, holding hands with a girl (that he’s apparently spoken to multiple times? Who refers to a place as home for both of them?), acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

The group sits in silence, unable to muster a comment, when Penelope’s phone buzzes. She checks it, and silently turns the screen over so they can all read it. 

BOY GENIUS: Hey Garcia. I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go home. See you Monday :-)

“What?”

[studioeisa]

okay so i know everyone is mad at the other anon for bringing up AI, but like… isn’t it kinda fair to say that once you publish a teaser or fic, and then don’t update it for months, it’s natural for readers to want closure in their own way? idk… i feel like that anon was being really polite with you. they even said it was just for personal use and like ai exists to make life easier?? so why is it such a crime to want to see the ending if the writer isn’t giving one? isn’t that the whole point of technology? you didn’t have to be that mad at them. you could’ve just said no without cursing and yelling. i’m sorry but it just feels a bit much. and tbh if they didn’t ask and used gpt anyway, you wouldn’t even know, so what’s the point of being so aggressive?

anyway i know people are gonna lunge at me for saying this but… not everyone who disagrees with you is a villain. just something to think about

i will start with the obvious. AI models 'learn' from the content fed into it. it regurgitates and steals content from human writers, whether it's our style/voice/tone or our actual words. our work is repurposed without our permission. "not everyone who disagrees with you is a villain," yes, but anyone who enables this system is.

"they even said it was just for personal use and like ai exists to make life easier??" at whose expense? mine? i write for enjoyment and community. i do not HAVE to make fanfiction. no one does. no writer owes you ANYTHING, even if they publish it online.

i am not about to apologize for "being so aggressive," or "screaming," or "yelling." this will be the last i say on this, so let me make my stance as crystal clear as possible. anon, and to anyone else who agrees with this anon: get off my fucking blog. shit, get off fandom spaces. do not interact with any of my work, or any fanfic writer's work, ever again.

[stellaspectral]

I’m in the mood for a rottmnt Donnie x reader where Donnie has the realization that he has fallen in love with his best friend, a nerdy girl who can be both the sweetest human in the whole universe or the sassiest little gremlin, and he has no clue what to do with it.

Awkward moments + our genius Donnie making a fool of himself + annoying siblings teasing him but secretly trying to make the ship happen + some tooth rotting fluff at the end!

Thank you for writing for the tmnt fandom! I love the way you write, I’m so happy that I found your blog and your fanfictions!

A/N: Thank you, this means so much to hear! I’m glad you found my blog and enjoy my fics! It really makes my day to know my writing is loved and appreciated 😊 I hope you enjoy this story as well! 💜

Neural Network Overload (fluff)

💜 ROTTMNT Donatello/Female Reader 💜

CWs: Fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, love confessions, first kiss, teasing siblings, awkwardness & embarrassment (poor Donnie!), and very very mild angst. All characters are aged-up.

There’s no scientific explanation for what’s happening to Donatello Hamato.

He’s a genius. A self-made technological prodigy. He operates with logic, with precision. Emotions, while acknowledged, are typically compartmentalized into manageable sectors of his brain.

But apparently, there is no compartment big enough for you.

You’re curled up in his hoodie, legs tucked underneath you on the lair couch, hair messy and glasses slightly crooked as you stare intently at the screen of your laptop. You’re reverse-engineering one of his drone’s command scripts. For fun. And maybe because he challenged you to, and you couldn’t resist.

Donnie is across the room, supposedly working on his battle shell. He’s holding a micro-soldering iron. But he hasn’t used it in thirty minutes. Because his eyes haven’t left you once.

You chew on your bottom lip when you concentrate. Do this little wiggle when your glasses slide down your nose, refusing to use your hands because you don’t want to break your work flow. You snark like it’s a superpower, but then turn around and give him the most genuine smile.

And that’s when it hits him.

He’s in love with you. Utterly. Completely.

The realization is instant. And horrifying.

Because you’re his best friend, his partner in crime. The one who yells at him to eat when he’s working too long and calls him out when he’s being ‘a smug, purple smartass.’ You’re also the one who listens to his rants, who understands his sarcasm. Who laughs at his dumbest puns and wears his hoodie like it belongs to you.

Still, somehow, he finds himself wanting more.

He wants to hold your hand when you’re hyper-focused. Wants to tuck your hair behind your ear when it falls in your face. Wants to kiss you after you sass him into a corner.

So naturally, he begins malfunctioning, dropping his soldering iron with a loud clatter.

You glance up, raising a brow. “You okay over there, D?”

He clears his throat, sitting up too straight. “Yes! Fine. I am functioning at optimal capacity, thank you very much.”

You squint at him, not convinced. “You sure?”

He tries to scoff, tries to pull off his signature aloofness. But his voice cracks halfway through and he ends up choking on air instead. You blink. And he wants the ground to open and swallow him whole.

This is mortifying, he thinks. A master of composure reduced to a sputtering mess by a simple question.

You set your laptop aside, concern softening your features. “Seriously, Don-Tron, you look like you’re about to short-circuit. Need some water? Or … a reboot?” Your attempt at a tech joke, one you know he usually appreciates with a dry chuckle, now makes his internal processors whir with panic.

He waves a dismissive hand. But it’s far too jerky, betraying his inner turmoil. “Negative! My … my processors are merely … recalibrating. Due to … atmospheric particulates!” He cringes internally. Atmospheric particulates? Really, Donatello? That’s the best your genius brain could concoct?!

You give him that look, the one that says you’re not buying it but will play along. For now. “Atmospheric particulates? In the sewer lair? Okay, Dr. Science.” The familiar nickname, usually a term of endearment, now feels like an accusation.

“Precisely!” he squeaks, then clears his throat again, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

You rise slowly from the couch, still in his oversized hoodie, and Donnie swears time skips a frame. The hem swishes at your thighs as you pad barefoot across the lair towards him. “Alright, Doc. Let’s run diagnostics,” you say, tone playfully serious as you step into his space.

He stiffens. You’re standing too close. Not objectively close, but close enough that your shampoo tickles his sensory nodes.

“You don’t look optimal. You look like your neural network is spiking.” You tap his plastron with a single finger. “You overheating or something?”

“Preposterous,” he says, backing up, only to bump into the cluttered mobile workbench he was using. Casually, he tries to lean against it—only to knock over a container of screws. They spill everywhere.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, folding your arms. “Definitely optimal.”

He wants to say something sharp. Something deflective. Maybe even something sarcastic. But then your face softens again, like it always does when you realize he’s not okay. And you do that thing where your hand rests gently on his forearm for grounding. For reassurance.

And his brain completely blue screens.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say, your voice quieter now. Not teasing. Not joking.

His vocal processors seem to have staged a mutiny. “Talk?” His voice shoots up three octaves, thin and reedy. “Regarding … what, exactly? The inevitable heat death of the universe? The latest advancements in neural network architecture? My … my perfectly standard, non-deviant, utterly nominal vocal output?” The last few words are practically a shriek.

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Then you slowly reach up and adjust your glasses. “I was gonna suggest talking about what you’re feeling,” you reply, tone dry. “But sure. Let’s start with the heat death of the universe and work our way backwards.”

If Donnie had a fan system, it would be blasting at maximum speed. Instead, he just stands there, frozen, trying desperately to reboot a single coherent thought. His brain is still trapped in a loop: She’s touching me, she’s touching me, she’s touching me—

“Unless …” You lean in slightly, just enough for him to notice the glimmer in your eyes, “the topic of feelings is causing that spike in temperature.”

He lets out a noise. Not a dignified one, but the auditory equivalent of a dying motherboard holding on for dear life. The sound escapes him before he can stop it, and your brows shoot up. He clamps a hand over his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence where you both just exist. You, with that slightly smug, knowing tilt to your head. And him, doing his best impression of a panic-stricken robot who just got hit with an unexpected firmware update.

Donnie’s hand remains glued to his mouth, eyes wide as if his own body has betrayed him on the most fundamental level. His other hand twitches at his side, like he’s running mental diagnostics but getting only error messages.

You place your hand over his. Gently pry his fingers away from his face. His eyes meet yours, still wide. Terrified. Then slowly—so slowly, as if buffering, he speaks, voice tight and squeaky around the edges. “That was … That wasn’t … I didn’t mean—”

Then, inevitably, the peanut gallery arrives.

Leo saunters into the room, stretching lazily. “Hey Donnie, have you seen my …” He stops short, taking in his brother’s rigid, almost statuesque posture and your amused yet concerned expression. His eyes narrow before that familiar glint of mischief appears in them. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Leo, don’t you dare,” Donnie practically hisses, voice still several octaves too high. His gaze flicks between you and his blue-clad brother, a trapped animal assessing escape routes where none exist. “This is a … a highly sensitive recalibration process!”

Leo smirks. “Recalibration? Looked more like a full system crash from where I’m standing.” He looks at you. “What’d you do? Confess your admiration for his meticulously organized and alphabetized collection of bad guy threat assessments?”

You snort despite yourself, and Donnie lets out a strangled noise that’s one part gasp, another part groan, and three parts existential despair.

“Leo,” he says, tone lethal but wobbly, “do you have literally anything else you should be doing?”

“Not when you’re this entertaining,” Leo replies with all the smugness of someone who’s been waiting his entire life to catch Donnie mid-swoon. “Seriously, bro, I’ve never seen your face that flushed. Are you overheating or blushing?”

“I do not blush,” Donnie replies, his voice clipped and brittle, like it might snap in half under the weight of his own embarrassment.

You tilt your head. “I dunno, D. You are sort of radiating the same energy as a stressed-out Roomba caught in a corner.”

Leo cackles. “Ohh, that’s good. Can I use that?”

Donnie glares at both of you with the kind of energy typically reserved for malfunctioning lab equipment or Raph’s punching of things labeled FRAGILE. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Leo says. “But especially her, huh?” He throws you a wink and ducks just in time to avoid the screwdriver Donnie hurls in his direction.

After the tool clangs harmlessly off the wall, Donnie shouts, “Out!”

Leo exits stage left, laughter echoing through the lair.

Silence falls again. Except it’s not really silence—because Donnie’s heart is practically trying to punch its way out of his chest, and you’re biting your lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“Alphabetized villain assessments, huh?” you tease.

“It’s called preparedness.”

You poke his side, grinning as you tease, “But especially me, huh?”

His eyes meet yours. And this time, even through the flustered static still buzzing around his brain, he answers honestly. “I could never hate you.”

The next day, everything goes downhill.

Donnie spills oil on his blueprints. Walks into a wall. Nearly blows up his mini fusion cell because he accidentally enters your name instead of the energy input variable.

Leo, of course, catches his slip-ups instantly.

“Broo,” he drawls, dramatically leaning against Donnie’s workbench in his lab. “You’ve got it bad.”

Donnie stiffens. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Leo says, twirling a stray wire between his fingers. “You only turned redder than a mutant tomato on prom night when she asked you to pass that tool thingy.”

Donnie scoffs. “That doesn’t even make sense. What mutant tomato? Prom night? Leo, your analogies are garbage.”

“Not as garbage as your poker face, lover boy.”

Mikey slides into the lab, grinning like a fox. “So when’s the wedding?”

“I-It’s not—!! I don’t—!!” Donnie sputters.

“Dude.” Even Raph joins in, chuckling. “Just tell her. We all know you like her.”

“I do not like her,” Donnie insists.

But then he thinks of the hoodie—his hoodie. You wearing it. The soft fabric, the way it hangs off your shoulders, the scent of you mixed with the faint, familiar smell of his own laundry detergent. The image flashes in his mind, clear and warm, and a traitorous little flutter happens somewhere in his chest cavity.

Threatening his self-control.

He covers his face with both hands. “Okay, I might like her.”

Raph raises an eyebrow. “Might?”

“Definitely,” Mikey says, voice sing-song. “You’re toast, dude. Emotional toast. And not the crunchy, golden-brown kind. More like the kind that fell butter-side-down into a pit of feelings.”

Donnie groans louder, dragging his hands down his face. “This is not how my cognitive trajectory was supposed to go today.”

“Then allow me to suggest a new trajectory.” Leo gestures grandly. “Operation: Tell Her Before You Spontaneously Combust.”

“Negative. Absolutely not. That’s a suicide mission.”

“Correction,” Raph says with a grin. “That’s a you’ve-got-a-chance-so-don’t-blow-it mission.”

Donnie bolts upright, pacing now. “You don’t understand. If I confess and she doesn’t feel the same, I lose everything.”

“She wears your hoodie,” Mikey says, as if this fact alone should end the discussion. “That’s like a universal sign of mutual crushing.”

“Correlation is not causation,” Donnie mutters, then spins around with wide, panicked eyes. “And what if she’s just being … nice? What if she just thinks of me as—”

“Don’t say ‘brother,’” Raph interrupts with a grimace.

Mikey throws an arm around Donnie’s shoulders. “She reverse-engineered your drone code for fun. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“Donnie.” Leo crosses his arms. “You’re stalling. Again.”

“I require more data before making a declaration.”

Leo smirks. “Or you could just ask her how she feels.”

“Statistically, that has a high margin of—”

“Just talk to her,” Raph says. “Before your nervous system explodes.”

Later that night, you’re snuggled back in Donnie’s hoodie. It still smells faintly of him. Something uniquely, comfortingly him.

You’re on the same spot on the couch, scrolling through lines of code. It’s Donnie’s latest security encryption. It’s unnecessarily complex, almost ridiculously so, like he wanted to see if you’d lose patience with it.

You haven’t. And if anything, you’re more determined than ever to crack it.

Donnie stands just inside the lab entrance, fingers twitching at his sides, almost like he’s mentally rehearsing lines. He watches you, a soft, almost bewildered expression on his face. For once, he doesn’t even try to analyze the storm of variables churning within him. He just feels it. All of it.

He clears his throat, the sound a little too loud in the quiet lair. He walks over, hands clasped tightly behind his back, his usual confident stride replaced with something a little more careful. Like he’s approaching a very delicate, potentially explosive experiment.

You glance up, a warm, welcoming smile spreading across your face. “Hey, D.”

He sits down beside you, perhaps a little closer than strictly necessary, but still maintaining a careful distance. You can feel the slight warmth radiating from him. You wait, watching him with an encouraging gaze.

“I …” he starts, then stops. His brow furrows. He swallows, eyes darting away for a nanosecond before refocusing on some indeterminate point near your shoulder.

“You okay?” you prompt gently.

A faint flush of pink dusts his cheeks. “No atmospheric particulates this time,” he mumbles, the words barely audible.

You smile wider, your heart doing a little flutter. “That’s a relief.”

Then he says it, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, gaze fixed firmly on his now-trembling hands in his lap.

“I like you.” His hands twitch, fingers interlacing and unlacing. “Like. More-than-best-friend like. Not just ‘you-stole-my-hoodie’ like—though, for the record, that is also a contributing factor. I mean. You can still steal my hoodie. In fact, I … I hope you do. Often. Preferably forever.” He finally risks a tiny, hopeful glance at you.

A soft chuckle escapes you. “Donnie, is this your version of flirting?” you ask, your tone gentle, your own cheeks feeling a little warm.

“I … I genuinely don’t know,” he admits, looking utterly lost, his shoulders slumping a fraction. “I think I’m glitching.” He looks so earnest, so vulnerable, that your heart melts.

You lean forward, your smile softening into something tender. You reach out, slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wants. He doesn’t. You cup his cheek with your hand, your thumb gently stroking his skin. He leans into your touch. Eyes wide, a tiny, almost inaudible sigh escaping him.

“Well. For the record?” you say, and he holds his breath, his gaze locked on yours. “I like you too, Donnie. Like, ‘please keep giving me impossible tech puzzles so I have an excuse to spend ridiculous amounts of time with you because you’re brilliant and funny and sweet.’”

He blinks a few times before his systems finally restart. A slow smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features. To you, it’s like watching a sunrise. “You … do?” The disbelief in his voice is almost painful, but it’s quickly being overridden by dawning joy as he digests your words.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up, genius,” you tease, your thumb brushing along the line of his jaw. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think I’d have to spell it out in binary.”

He exhales a short, shaky laugh. Part shock, part awe, all relief. “My predictive algorithms … they … I was running every probable outcome. This one … this one had a statistically lower probability than I preferred, given the stakes.” He shakes his head, still smiling that dazzling, rare smile.

“And which one did your brilliant brain finally land on?” you murmur, your faces incredibly close now—so close you can see the way the light catches the unique patterns in his irises.

He leans in, his gaze dropping to your lips for a breath before meeting your eyes again, his voice a soft, warm whisper against your skin. “This one.”

Then he kisses you.

It’s hesitant at first, a gentle press of lips. Careful, like an experiment he wants to get perfect. You can feel the slight tremor in his hands as one comes up to rest on your waist, the other still on the couch, gripping the cushion. You sigh into the kiss, your own hand moving from his cheek to tangle lightly in the ends of his mask tails, encouraging him.

He deepens the kiss slightly, a spark of newfound confidence igniting. It’s sweet, and a little clumsy, and utterly, breathtakingly perfect.

And for once, Donatello Hamato doesn’t need data, or algorithms, or any empirical evidence to know that this feeling—this connection—is his best, most wonderful result yet.

[bratzkoo]

our three year plan | pt. 1 wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: merging arrangements rewrite. will keep the original merging arrangements chapters in my blog but it’s discontinued ☺️. Also! Updates for this fic is not going to be as fast because I haven’t been writing in advance. 😔 So see you between a week to a year. Lol.

summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.

jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him

masterlist | next part

The conference room felt too small, too airless for the bombshell that had just been dropped. Y/N stared at her parents, certain she had misheard them.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears.

Her father, straightened his already impeccable posture. As CEO of Seoul's largest private medical group, he never made requests; he issued commands. "Your engagement to Jeon Wonwoo will be announced next month. The wedding is scheduled for spring."

"Engagement? Wedding?" Y/N's coffee cup clattered against its saucer. "To Jeon Wonwoo? The tech heir? I've barely exchanged ten words with him!"

Her mother's perfectly manicured hand reached across the polished conference table. "Darling, the Jeons are an excellent family. Their conglomerate is expanding into medical technology. This merger—"

"Merger?" Y/N stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not a business asset to be traded!"

"Lower your voice," her father hissed, glancing toward the door. "This is still a hospital."

Y/N inhaled deeply, the familiar antiseptic smell grounding her. Yes, Seoul Medical Center—her workplace, her sanctuary—was now the setting for this life-altering ambush.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

Her father's expression hardened. "While you waste your medical degree playing nurse, the rest of us are securing the future of this institution."

The familiar barb stung, but Y/N had grown used to it over her years being a nurse. What she couldn't get used to was the idea of an arranged marriage.

"This discussion is over," her father announced, gathering his papers. "The Jeons are expecting us for dinner tomorrow. Wear something appropriate."

As her parents exited, leaving her alone in the conference room, Y/N sank back into her chair. Her phone buzzed with a notification for her afternoon rounds, a reminder of the life she'd built—the life that was now being dismantled without her consent.

"They can't be serious!" Alexys slammed her lunch tray down, causing several heads to turn in the hospital cafeteria. "Are we living in the Joseon dynasty?"

"Lower your voice," Dr. Ela Song whispered, sliding into the seat beside Y/N. "The walls have ears, especially when the CEO's daughter is involved."

Y/N pushed her salad around aimlessly. "They're dead serious. Apparently, the contracts are already being drafted."

"Contracts?" Alexys scoffed, her lab coat still bearing traces of what looked suspiciously like the methylene blue from the pathology lab. "For a marriage? Who does that anymore?"

"Rich people," Ela replied matter-of-factly, carefully separating her kimchi from the rest of her lunch. "Trust me, I know. My parents still haven't forgiven me for marrying Mingyu instead of the Chinese pharmaceutical heir they picked out."

Y/N looked up at her friend. Despite coming from immense wealth herself, Ela had chosen love over family expectations, a path that had cost her dearly. "How did you do it? Stand up to them, I mean."

Ela's expression softened. "I knew what I wanted. Do you?"

The question hung between them. What did she want? Y/N had spent years defining herself by her work—the midnight emergencies, the precious moments with patients, the medical missions to remote villages where her skills made a tangible difference. The thought of trading that for corporate functions and producing heirs made her stomach churn.

"I want my life," she finally said. "My career. My freedom to go on medical missions. Not... whatever this is."

Alexys paused mid-bite. "Then you need to find a way out of it."

"How? My father has made it clear this is non-negotiable."

Alexys grinned mischievously. "What if you make yourself so undesirable that this Wonwoo guy backs out? Men hate clingy women, right? Or maybe develop some disgusting habits?"

Despite everything, Y/N laughed. "You're suggesting I start picking my nose at business dinners?"

"I'm serious!" Alexys insisted. "Or what if—"

"What if you just talked to him?" Ela interrupted pragmatically. "This Wonwoo person might be just as trapped as you are."

The thought hadn't occurred to Y/N. In her mind, Jeon Wonwoo had been a faceless corporate puppet, willingly participating in this archaic arrangement. But what if he was another victim in their parents' chess game?

"Nurse Y/N to Emergency, Nurse Y/N to Emergency."

The overhead page pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She gathered her barely-touched lunch.

"Duty calls," she sighed, standing up. "I'll figure something out. I have to."

As she hurried toward the emergency department, a plan began forming in her mind. If Wonwoo was as reluctant as she was, perhaps they could form an alliance. A temporary arrangement with a predetermined expiration date. They could pretend just long enough to satisfy their families, then orchestrate some kind of falling out.

It was desperate, perhaps even foolish. But as Y/N pushed through the swinging doors of the ER and the familiar controlled chaos enveloped her, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would not give up the life she had fought so hard to build.

Seungcheol was already gloved up when Y/N entered the trauma bay, his calm presence a welcome sight amid the flurry of activity.

"MVA, three minutes out," he called to her, his eyes crinkling with the smile hidden beneath his surgical mask. As the ER's most experienced trauma nurse, Y/N was always his first choice for critical cases.

She nodded, slipping into the familiar routine with practiced ease. Gloves, gown, mask—the ritual momentarily pushed aside her personal crisis.

"Heard you got called to the executive floor earlier," Seungcheol remarked as they prepared the crash cart together. "Everything okay?"

Y/N hesitated. Despite Seungcheol being her closest friend at the hospital, something held her back from sharing her current predicament. The situation felt too raw, too complicated to explain—especially to someone whose opinion mattered so much to her.

"Just quarterly performance reviews," she lied smoothly, checking the laryngoscope light. "Nothing exciting."

He studied her for a moment, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but the wail of approaching sirens saved her from further questions.

For the next three hours, Y/N lost herself in the work she loved—stabilizing patients, anticipating needs before they were voiced, bringing order to chaos. Here, in the ER, she wasn't the reluctant heiress of the medical group; she was simply Nurse Y/N, respected for her skills and dedication.

By the time her shift ended, Y/N had almost convinced herself that she could find a way out of her predicament. Almost.

"You look like you could use this," Seungcheol said, appearing beside her locker with a steaming cup of coffee—made exactly how she liked it, with a splash of almond milk and no sugar.

"You're a lifesaver," she murmured gratefully, accepting the cup.

"Rough shift," he commented, leaning against the lockers. "You handled that crush injury like a pro, though."

Y/N welcomed the shift to professional topics. "The ortho team said we saved his arm. Sometimes I forget why we do this, and then days like today happen."

Seungcheol smiled, the kind of smile that usually made her day brighter. Today, however, she couldn't fully return it, her mind still preoccupied with tomorrow's meeting with Wonwoo.

"You seem distracted," he observed. "Sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

Y/N took a measured sip of her coffee, buying time to compose her thoughts. "Nothing worth mentioning. Just tired." She forced a lighter tone. "Tell me about that new protocol Dr. Kim was discussing yesterday. The one for pediatric traumas?"

She could see Seungcheol wasn't entirely convinced by her deflection, but he respected her boundaries enough not to push. As he launched into an explanation of the new protocols, Y/N nodded along, grateful for his friendship yet oddly relieved to keep her impending engagement private—at least for now.

Some burdens, she decided, were better carried alone until she had a clearer path forward. Perhaps after meeting Wonwoo tomorrow, she'd have more answers than questions.

"Whatever's going on," Seungcheol said suddenly, interrupting his own explanation, "just remember I'm here if you need anything. No questions asked."

The simple offer of support without demands for explanation touched Y/N deeply. "I know," she said, her throat unexpectedly tight. "Thank you."

As they parted ways in the hospital parking lot, Y/N felt a strange mix of guilt and resolve. Seungcheol deserved her honesty, but until she understood her own situation better, silence seemed the wiser choice. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and perhaps then the path ahead would become clearer.

The Jeon estate was exactly as ostentatious as Y/N had expected—a modern glass and steel structure perched on one of Seoul's most exclusive hillsides, overlooking the city like a watchful sentinel. As the security gates parted for her parents' Mercedes, Y/N smoothed down her conservative navy dress, chosen specifically to project seriousness rather than bridal potential.

"Remember to smile," her mother murmured as they approached the entrance. "First impressions are everything."

Y/N bit back a retort. If her parents wanted a corporate puppet, they should have groomed Haerin for the role. Her younger sister would have thrived in this world of strategic alliances and business dinners.

The thought of Haerin triggered a pang of longing. If only her sister were here instead of "finding herself" in Italy. Their last conversation replayed in her mind:

"You should be the heir," Y/N had insisted during their video call. "You actually want this life."

Haerin had just laughed, the Mediterranean sun glinting in her hair. "I just want to be in Italy and be rich."

"You just want to be in Italy and be rich." Y/N mocked in sing-song tone.

"Yes, thank you, next!" Haerin had quipped, ending the discussion with her typical breezy dismissal.

Now, as a stern housekeeper ushered them into an expansive foyer, Y/N wished for just a fraction of her sister's carefree attitude.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon awaited them in a sitting room that could have been featured in an architectural magazine—all clean lines, expensive minimalism, and strategic splashes of color. Y/N instantly recognized Jeon Siwoo from business magazines, his silver hair and commanding presence befitting the CEO of one of Korea's largest tech conglomerates.

Introductions were made, pleasantries exchanged, but Y/N barely registered the conversation. Her attention was fixed on the conspicuous absence of her supposed fiancé.

"Wonwoo sends his apologies," Mrs. Jeon explained, noticing Y/N's wandering gaze. "He was called away to handle an emergency at our Busan facility. He's flying back tonight and is looking forward to meeting you properly tomorrow."

Y/N couldn't decide if she was relieved or frustrated by the delay. On one hand, it postponed the inevitable awkwardness; on the other, it prolonged her anxiety.

"Perhaps it's for the best," her father said smoothly. "The young people can meet privately tomorrow. Sometimes these arrangements are better discussed without parental interference."

Mr. Jeon nodded in agreement. "Wonwoo will pick Y/N up at noon. I suggest lunch at the Sky Garden—private, yet public enough for propriety."

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral as her future was arranged like a business meeting. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and everything would change. Her mind raced with questions: Would he be as reluctant as she was? Would he consider her plan? Or would he be exactly like their parents, seeing her as nothing more than a beneficial merger?

As the evening progressed through an elaborate dinner where business dominated the conversation, Y/N remained largely silent, mentally rehearsing what she would say to Wonwoo tomorrow. By the time they left, she had a clear strategy: she would be direct, practical, and unemotional. This was a negotiation, nothing more.

The following morning dawned bright and crisp, autumn painting Seoul in shades of gold and crimson. Y/N had barely slept, her mind cycling through various scenarios of how her meeting with Wonwoo might unfold.

At precisely noon, her phone pinged with a message from an unknown number:

I'm outside your building. Black Tesla. - Wonwoo

Direct and to the point. Perhaps this was a good sign. Y/N grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs despite her determination to remain calm and collected.

The sleek black car was idling at the curb, its electric engine silent. As she approached, the driver's door opened, and Jeon Wonwoo stepped out.

Y/N faltered momentarily. The man before her was not what she'd expected. Business publications typically showed him in formal attire at corporate events, looking serious and unapproachable. Today, dressed in dark jeans and a simple white button-down with rolled sleeves, he looked younger, more approachable—and annoyingly handsome, with sharp features softened by warm eyes behind round glasses.

"Y/N," he said with a slight bow. "It's nice to finally meet you properly."

His voice was lower than she'd anticipated, with a gentle quality that didn't match her mental image of a cutthroat tech executive.

"Likewise," she responded automatically, accepting his gesture to enter the car.

The interior smelled of new leather and something else—a subtle, clean scent that she assumed was his cologne. As he slid into the driver's seat, Y/N steeled herself. Handsome or not, this man represented everything she was fighting against—the loss of her autonomy, the end of her carefully constructed life.

"I know a place that's more private than the Sky Garden," Wonwoo said as he pulled into traffic. "If that's alright with you. Somewhere we can actually talk."

Y/N turned to study his profile. Was it possible he had his own agenda for this meeting?

"I'd prefer that," she admitted. "I have some things I'd like to discuss."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I thought you might."

The drive was mostly silent, but not uncomfortably so. Wonwoo seemed content to focus on navigating Seoul's busy streets, occasionally pointing out a landmark or asking a neutral question about her work. Y/N provided brief answers, saving her energy for the real conversation ahead.

He eventually parked near a secluded botanical garden, leading her to a small café nestled among trees just beginning to turn color. The place was nearly empty, offering the privacy both apparently craved.

After they ordered—he knew precisely what kind of tea she preferred, which was mildly disconcerting—Wonwoo leaned forward, his expression serious.

"I think we should address the elephant in the room," he said directly. "This arranged marriage."

Y/N appreciated his straightforwardness. "Yes, we should."

"I understand this must be difficult for you," he continued, surprising her with his perception. "Being told who to marry, having your future decided without your consent."

Something in his tone made Y/N pause. He didn't sound like someone equally trapped in this arrangement; he sounded like someone trying to be understanding of her predicament.

"Isn't it difficult for you as well?" she probed.

Wonwoo's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in their depths. "My situation is... different."

Before she could ask what he meant, their drinks arrived. Y/N wrapped her hands around the warm mug, gathering her courage.

"I have a proposition," she said once the server had left. "A way for both of us to satisfy our families without actually committing to a lifetime together."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his expression cautiously interested. "I'm listening."

"We pretend," Y/N stated simply. "We go along with the engagement, play the happy couple in public. Meanwhile, we live separate lives as much as possible. After a suitable period—maybe a year or two—we stage a falling out. Something believable but not scandalous. We part ways amicably, our families maintain their business connections, and we both regain our freedom."

She held her breath as Wonwoo considered her words, his expression thoughtful. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke:

"And what if it doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if our parents don't accept our breakup? What if they push us back together?"

Y/N hadn't considered this possibility. "Then... we make the falling out more dramatic. Irreconcilable differences. Something they can't fix."

Wonwoo studied her for a long moment, his gaze so intent that Y/N fought the urge to squirm in her seat.

"Three years," he finally said.

"Excuse me?"

"Not one or two. Three years. That's how long we commit to this charade. It needs to be believable." He leaned forward slightly. "If we announce the breakup too soon, they'll know it was planned."

His logic was sound, though the thought of maintaining a fake relationship for three years was daunting. Still, three years of pretending was better than a lifetime of reality.

"Three years," she agreed tentatively. "But with conditions. I maintain my career. I continue my medical missions. No children, obviously."

"Agreed," he nodded. "And I have conditions as well. We live together in the house my parents have already purchased. Separate bedrooms, of course," he added quickly, seeing her expression. "But we need to appear committed. They'll expect it."

Y/N swallowed hard. Living together would complicate things significantly. "Any other conditions?"

Something shifted in Wonwoo's expression—a subtle change she couldn't quite identify. "Just one. We make a genuine effort to know each other. To be friends, at least. Three years is a long time to live with a stranger."

The request was reasonable, even practical. If they were to convince the world of their relationship, they needed to understand each other.

"Alright," she conceded. "Friends. But nothing more."

Wonwoo extended his hand across the table. "Then we have a deal. Our three-year plan begins now."

As Y/N placed her hand in his, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something—something in the way his hand lingered around hers, something in the quiet intensity of his gaze.

What she didn't know, what she couldn't know, was that Jeon Wonwoo had just agreed to a plan that aligned perfectly with his own agenda—three years to make the woman he'd admired from afar fall genuinely in love with him.

The house was beautiful—Y/N had to admit that much. Nestled in a quiet neighborhood that somehow managed to be both exclusive and understated, the modern three-bedroom structure was nothing like the ostentatious mansions their parents inhabited. If she had to be trapped in a fake engagement, at least the cage was gilded.

"Your things arrived this morning," Wonwoo said as he unlocked the front door. "I had them placed in the master bedroom. I've taken the room down the hall."

She followed him inside, noting with surprise the warmth of the interior. She'd expected cold minimalism like his parents' home, but this space was inviting—clean lines softened by natural materials, large windows filling the rooms with light, and carefully chosen art that seemed to reflect both Korean tradition and modern sensibilities.

"Did you decorate this?" she asked, running her fingers along a handcrafted wooden shelf.

Wonwoo shook his head. "A designer handled most of it, but I made some adjustments. I wanted it to feel like a home, not a showpiece."

Y/N glanced at him curiously. There it was again—that disconnect between the corporate heir she'd imagined and the thoughtful man before her.

"Let me show you around," he offered, leading her through the space.

The tour ended in a kitchen that would make a professional chef envious—state-of-the-art appliances, expansive countertops, and a view of the small but immaculately landscaped garden.

"Do you cook?" Y/N asked, noting how at ease Wonwoo seemed in this space.

"It's one of my few hobbies," he admitted. "Work doesn't leave time for much else." He hesitated, then added, "I thought I might make dinner tonight. If you're comfortable with that. Consider it a housewarming."

The offer surprised her. In her family, cooking was the staff's responsibility; the idea of the heir to a major corporation preparing dinner was foreign.

"I'd like that," she found herself saying.

Later, as she unpacked in her new bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed with messages from Ela and Alexys:

Well??? Did you meet him? Is he a troll? A robot? DETAILS, WOMAN! - Alexys

Hope you're okay. Call if you need anything. Mingyu says Wonwoo is actually decent, for what it's worth. - Ela

Y/N blinked at Ela's message. "Wait, Mingyu knows Wonwoo?"

As if on cue, her phone rang with Ela's call.

"You didn't know?" Ela sounded surprised when Y/N asked. "They've been friends since university. Mingyu never mentioned him because, well, you know how my husband is—he doesn't like to name-drop."

Y/N sank onto her new bed, processing this connection. "What else does Mingyu know about him?"

"Just that he's not like other chaebol heirs. Works ridiculous hours, actually earned his position rather than having it handed to him. Mingyu says he's brilliant with technology but awkward with people." Ela paused. "Did you propose your plan?"

"Yes," Y/N confirmed, lowering her voice although she was alone in the room. "Three years of pretending, then a clean break."

"And he agreed?" Ela sounded skeptical.

"Surprisingly easily. I think he's as trapped as I am."

There was a strange pause before Ela spoke again. "Y/N... did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?"

Before Y/N could respond, a gentle knock on her door interrupted the conversation.

"I need to go," she told Ela quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She opened the door to find Wonwoo standing there, sleeves rolled up further and an apron tied around his waist. The domesticity of the image was so at odds with what she knew of him that Y/N momentarily stared.

"Dinner's almost ready," he said, seemingly unaware of her reaction. "Nothing fancy, just some doenjang jjigae and banchan."

"That sounds perfect," she replied, following him downstairs.

The kitchen was filled with mouthwatering aromas, the countertops lined with small dishes of perfectly prepared side dishes. As they settled at the dining table with steaming bowls of stew, Y/N found herself genuinely impressed.

"This is delicious," she admitted after her first bite.

A pleased smile curved Wonwoo's lips, transforming his serious face. "My grandmother's recipe. She insisted I learn to cook for myself, even though my parents thought it was beneath me."

"Your grandmother sounds wise."

"She was," he said softly, and Y/N noted the past tense with a pang of empathy.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the awkwardness of their situation temporarily set aside. It was strange, Y/N thought, how quickly the human mind adapted to new circumstances. This morning, she had been dreading meeting Jeon Wonwoo; now, she was sharing a home-cooked meal with him as they embarked on a three-year deception together.

"I've been thinking about our arrangement," Wonwoo said as they finished eating. "We should establish some ground rules. Beyond what we've already agreed on."

Y/N nodded. "That makes sense."

"For instance, we should discuss how we handle public appearances, family obligations, holidays..."

"And dating," Y/N added, thinking ahead. "If we're going to be living separate lives, we need parameters for discretion."

Something flickered in Wonwoo's eyes—so briefly Y/N thought she might have imagined it. "Of course," he said evenly. "Discretion would be paramount."

Their conversation continued late into the evening, mapping out the contours of their pretense. By the time Y/N retreated to her bedroom, she felt surprisingly at ease with the arrangement. Wonwoo was reasonable, practical, and seemingly as committed to maintaining their independence as she was.

As she prepared for bed in her new home, Y/N remembered Ela's question: Did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?

She dismissed the thought. Whatever Wonwoo's reasons were, they aligned with her goals. That was all that mattered. Tomorrow would be another day of adjustments, of learning to navigate this strange new reality. But for tonight, at least, she could sleep knowing she had found a way to protect the life she cherished.

In his own room down the hall, Jeon Wonwoo sat at his desk, a small smile playing on his lips as he closed the leather-bound journal where he'd been writing. On its cover, inscribed in his neat handwriting, were the words:

“Our three year plan.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic is five

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SEATTLE TONIGHT (Feb 19) for with DAN SAVAGE, and in TORONTO on SUNDAY (Feb 23) at Another Story Books. More tour dates here.

Five years and two weeks ago, I parted ways with Boing Boing, a website I co-own and wrote for virtually every day for 19 years ago. Two weeks later – five years ago from today – I started my own blog, Pluralistic, which is, therefore, half a decade old, as of today.

I've written an annual rumination on this most years since.

Here's the fourth anniversary post (on blogging as a way to organize thoughts for big, ambitious, synthetic works):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#synthesis

The third (on writing without analytics):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/drei-drei-drei/#now-we-are-three

The second (on "post own site, share everywhere," AKA "POSSE"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/19/now-we-are-two/#two-much-posse

I wasn't sure what I would write about today, but I figured it out yesterday, in the car, driving to my book-launch event with Wil Wheaton at LA's Diesel Books (tonight's event is in Seattle, with Dan Savage):

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/cory-doctorow-with-dan-savage-picks-and-shovels-a-martin-hench-novel-tickets-1106741957989

I was listening to the always excellent Know Your Enemy podcast, where the hosts were interviewing Chris Hayes:

https://know-your-enemy-1682b684.simplecast.com/episodes/pay-attention-w-chris-hayes-OA3C8ZMp

The occasion was the publication of Hayes's new book, The Sirens' Call, about the way technology interacts with our attention:

https://sirenscallbook.com

The interview was fascinating, and steered clear of moral panic about computers rotting our brains (shades of Socrates' possibly apocryphal statements that reading, rather than memorizing, was destroying young peoples' critical faculties). Instead, Hayes talked about how empty it feels to read an algorithmic feed, how our attention gets caught up by it, sometimes for longer than we planned, and then afterward, we feel like our attention and time were poorly spent. He talked about how reflective experiences – like reading a book with his kid before school – are shattered by pocket-buzzes as news articles came in. And he talked about how satisfying it was to pay protracted attention to something important, and how hard that was.

Listening to Hayes's description, I realized two things: first, he was absolutely right, those are terrible things; and second, I barely experience them (though, when I do, it makes me feel awful). Both of these are intimately bound up with my blogging and social media habits.

15 years ago, I published "Writing in the Age of Distraction," an article about preserving your attention in a digital world so you could get writing done. We live in a very different world, but the advice still holds up:

https://www.locusmag.com/Features/2009/01/cory-doctorow-writing-in-age-of.html

In particular, I advised readers to turn off all their alerts. This is something I've done since before the smartphone era, tracking down the preferences that kept programs like AIM, Apple Mail and Google Reader from popping up an alert when a new item appeared. This is absolutely fundamental and should be non-negotiable. When I heard Hayes describe how his phone buzzes in his pocket whenever there is breaking news, I was actually shocked. Do people really allow their devices to interrupt them on a random reinforcement schedule? I mean, no wonder the internet makes people go crazy. I'm not a big believer in BF Skinner, but I think it's well established that any stimulus that occurs at random intervals is impossible to get used to, and shocks you anew every time it recurs.

Rather than letting myself get pocket-buzzed by the news, I have an RSS reader. You should use an RSS reader, seriously:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

I periodically check in with my reader to see what stories have been posted. The experience of choosing to look at the news is profoundly different from having the news blasted at you. I still don't always choose wisely – I'm as guilty of scrolling my phone when I could be doing something more ultimately satisfying as anyone else – but the affect of being in charge of when and how I consume current events is the opposite of the feeling of being at the beck-and-call of any fool headline writer who hits "publish."

This is even more important in the age of smartphones. Whenever you install an app, turn off its notifications. If you forget and an app pushes you an update ("Hi, this is the app you used to pay your parking meter that one time! We're having a 2% off sale on parking spots in a different city from the one you're in now and we wanted to make sure you stopped whatever you were doing and found out about it RIGHT NOW!") then turn off notifications for that app. Consider deleting it. Your phone should buzz when you're expecting a call, or an important message.

Note I said important message. I also turn off notifications for most of the apps I use that have a direct-messaging function. I check in with my group chats periodically, but I never get interrupted by friends across town or across the world posting photos of lunch or kvetching about the guy who farted next to them on the subway. I look at those chats when I'm taking a break, not when I'm trying to get stuff done. It's really nice to stay on top of your friends' lives without feeling low-grade resentment for how they interrupted your creative fog with a ganked Tiktok video of a zoomer making fun of a boomer for getting mad at a millennial for quoting Osama bin Laden. There's times when it makes sense to turn on group-chat notifications – like when you're on a group outing and trying to locate one another – but the rest of the time, turn it off.

Now, there are people I need to hear from urgently, who do get to buzz my pockets when something important comes up – people I'm working on a project with, say, or my wife and kid. But I also have all those people trained to send me emails unless it's urgent. You know the norm we have about calling someone out of the blue being kind of gross and rude? That's how you should feel about making someone's pocket buzz, unless it's important. Send those people emails.

I visit my email in between other tasks and clear out my inbox. If that sounds impossible, I have some suggestions for how to manage it:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2010/dec/21/keeping-email-address-secret-spambots

Tldr? Get you some mail rules:

add everyone you correspond with to an address book called "people I know"

filter emails from anyone in the "people I know" address book into a high priority inbox, which you just treat as your regular inbox

look at the unfiltered inbox (full of people you've never corresponded with) every day or two and reply to messages that need replying (and those people will thereafter be filtered into the "people I know" inbox)

filter any message containing the world "unsubscribe" into a folder called "mailing lists"

if you're subscribed to mailing lists that you feel you can't leave because it would be impolite, filter them into a folder called "mailing lists" unless the message contains your name (so you can reply promptly if someone mentions you on the list)

The point here is to manage your attention. You decide when you want to get non-urgent communications, and mail-app automation automatically flags the stuff that you are most likely to want to see. For extra credit: adopt a "suspense file" that lets you manage other peoples' emails to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo

Now, let's talk about algorithmic feeds. Lots of phosphors have been spilled on this subject, and critics of The Algorithm have an unfortunately propensity to buy into the self aggrandizement of soi-dissant evil sorcerer tech bros who claim they can "hack your dopamine loops" by programming an algorithmic feed. I think this is bullshit. Mind-control rays are nonsense, whether they are being promoted by Rasputin or a repentant Prodigal Tech Bro:

https://conversationalist.org/2020/03/05/the-prodigal-techbro/

But I hate algorithmic feeds. To explain why, I should explain how much I love non-algorithmic feeds. I follow a lot of people on several social media services, and I almost never feel the need to look at trending topics, suggested posts, or anything resembling the "For You" feed. Sure, there's times when I want to turn on the ole social TV and see what's on – the digital equivalent of leaving the TV on in a hotel room while I unpack and iron my suit – but those times are rare.

Mostly what I get is a feed of the things that my friends think are noteworthy enough to share. Some of that stuff is "OC" (material they've posted themselves), but the majority of it is stuff they're boosting from the feeds of their friends. Now, I say friend but I don't know the majority of the people I follow. I have a parasocial relationship (these get an undeserved bad rap) with them.

We're "friends" in the sense that I think they have interesting taste. There's people I've followed for more than a decade without exchanging a single explicit communication. I think they're cool, and I repost the cool stuff they post, so the people who follow me can see it. Reposting is a way of collaborating with other people who've opted into sharing their attention-management with you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/27/probably/

Reposting with a comment? Even better – you're telling people why to pay attention to that thing, or, more importantly, why they can safely ignore it if it's not their thing (what Bruce Sterling memorably calls an "attention conservation notice"). This is why Mastodon's decision not to implement quote-tweeting (over a misplaced squeamishness about "dunk culture") was such a catastrophic own-goal. If you're building a social network without an algorithmic suggestion feed (yay), you absolutely can't afford to block a feature that lets people annotate the material they boost into other people's timelines:

https://fediversereport.com/fediverse-report-104/

Remember how I said the affect of going to read the news is totally different (and infinitely superior) to the affect of having the news pushed to you? Same goes for the difference between getting a feed of things boosted and written by people you've chosen to follow, and getting a feed of things chosen by an algorithm. This is for reasons far more profound than the mere fact that algorithms use poor signals to choose those posts (e.g. "do a lot of people seem to be arguing about this post?").

For me, the problem with algorithmic feeds is the same as the problem with AI art. The point of art is to communicate something, and art consists of thousands of micro-decisions made by someone intending to communicate something, which gives it a richness and a texture that can make art arresting and profound. Prompting an AI to draw you a picture consists of just a few decisions, orders of magnitude fewer communicative acts than are embodied in a human-drawn illustration, even if you refine the image through many subsequent prompts. What you get is something "soulless" – a thing that seems to involve many decisions, but almost all of them were made by a machine that had no communicative intent.

This is the definition of "uncanniness," which is "the seeming of intention without intending anything." Most of the "meaning" in an AI illustration is "meaning that does not stem from organizing intention":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

The same is true of an algorithmic feed. When someone you follow – a person – posts or boosts something into their feed, there is a human intention. It is a communicative act. It can be very communicative, even if it's just a boost, provided the person adds some context with their own commentary or quoting. It can be just a little communicative, too – a momentary thumbpress on the boost button. But either way, to read a feed populated by people, rather than machines, is to be showered with the communicative intent of people whom you have chosen to hear from. Perhaps you chose unwisely and followed someone whose communications are banal or offensive or repetitious. Unfollow them.

Most importantly, follow the people who are followed by the people you follow. If someone whose taste you like pleases or interests you time and again by promoting something by a stranger to your attention, then bring that stranger closer by making them someone you follow, too. Do this, again and again, and build a constellation of people who make you smile or make you think. Just the act of boosting and virtually handling the things those people make and boost gets that stuff into your skin and your thoughts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/31/divination/

This is the good kind of filter bubble – the bubble of "people who interest me." I'm not saying that it's a sin to read an algorithmic feed, but relying on algorithmic feeds is a recipe for feeling empty, and regretful of your misspent attention. This is true even when the algorithm is good at its job, as with Tiktok, whose whole appeal is to take your hands off the wheel and give total control over to the autopilot. Even when an algorithm makes many good guesses about what you'll like, seeing something you like isn't as nice, as pleasing, as useful, as seeing that same thing as the result of someone else's intention.

And, of course, once you let the app drive, you become a soft target for the cupidity and deceptions of the app's makers. Tiktok, for example, uses its "heating tool" to selectively boost things into your feed – not because they think you'll like it, but because they want to trick the person whose content they're boosting into thinking that Tiktok is a good place to distribute their work through:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

The value of an algorithmic feed – of an intermediated feed – is to help you build your disintermediated, human feed. Find people you like through the algorithm, follow them, then stop letting the algorithm drive.

And the human feed you consume is input for the human feed you create, the stream of communicative acts you commit in order to say to the world, "This is what feels good to spend my attention on. If this makes you feel good, too, then please follow me, and you will sit downstream of my communicative acts, as I sit downstream of the communicative acts of so many others."

The more communicative the feeds you emit are, the more reward you will reap. First, because interrogating your own attention – "why was this thing interesting?" – is a clarifying and mnemonic act, that lets you get more back from the attention you pay. And second, because the more you communicate about those attentive insights, the more people you will find who are truly Your People, a community that goes beyond "I follow this stranger" and gets into the realm of "this stranger and I are on the same side in a world of great peril and worry":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Which brings me back to this blog and my fifth bloggaversary. Because a blog is a feed, but one that is far heavier on communications than a stream of boosted posts. Five years into this iteration of my blogging life (and 24 years into my blogging life overall), blogging remains one of the most powerful, clarifying and uplifting parts of my day.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/19/gimme-five/#jeffty

[skyscrapergods]

ik this blog is in a bit of a lull rn, so no pressure on answering, but I've perused thru most of the posts on worldbuilding for ssg and I didn't see this question asked: one of the main traits of humans that let us become the dominant sentient species is our opposable thumbs. ponies don't have those! and yes, unicorns can control and move things with magic but thats a difficult process to learn and not readily available to everyone. most worldbuilding I see for MLP tends to leave this question ambiguous behind the veil of cartoon logic. what are your thoughts? how do ponies maintain technological advancements and perform everyday tasks despite only being able to hold things with their mouths or (in some cases) horns? and what of writing and art?

Horses have extremely dexterous lips for ripping up grass. So they use their mouths WAY more than they do in the show. Fine motor skills are all done with the lips and teeth.

For bigger tasks, many earth ponies have horseshoes made of ferrous metal, and have magnets on items they need to interact with. Tea pots with magnetic handles, but the handles look like big disks for the shoe to fit in.

In the show, all these things are human-shaped for familiarity (and because designing for hoofed apex species is a lot of work). But in my world, things like door handles, light switches, buckets, sewing machines, typewriters, and such are all converted to large-surface hoof levers, mouth pull-strings, pressure plates, tooth-grips, etc

Here's a look at an environment that is built for someone with hooves and mouth rather than hands.

See how he doesn't struggle to operate human-centric machinery?

Meanwhile, creatures with hands will struggle in ponyville, when presented with something that is meant only to be bitten to operate.

Likewise, areas with mostly-unicorn populations have doors, buildings, devices, utensils, bookshelves, food, and everything else built for form rather than function, since they don't need to use their hooves and mouths for anything. Think a teapot with no handles at all. Nothing on the back, and nothing on the lid either except embellishments. No post that sticks up for hands or mouths to grab, just fancy markings. Unicorns can just lift that smooth lid out of the way and telekinetically hold the pot under the water. For this reason, isolated unicorns are often shocked and horrified to see ponies and pegasus use their hooves and mouths. A unicorn with a broken horn would be able to function in a pony world just fine, but is severely disabled in unicorn-only society. Though, they would still struggle when faces with devices that require horse-teeth, since unicorns, being deer, lack upper front teeth. Their hard dental pad is useful, but it is more delicate than teeth and can be injured by using pony devices.

Pegasus settlements use their mouths and hooves too, but have additional devices and adaptions mean to be operated with their wings. They have a highly developed alula, which is is the free-moving digit at the wrist of the wings.

A pegasus can grab and move things with it, but it's not as deft as their cloven hooves and prehensile dewclaws.

This is especially helpful since pegasus mouths are made of a lot of hardened cartilage with feathery skin over it. This helps them preen their feathers, but lowers dexterity.

Thankfully, most areas of Equestria have been adapted to all three species. Places of business, housing, devices, and commerce have pullies, hoofpads, soft mouth-grips, and such. Unicorns learn to use their bodies to operate things, or they train themselves to press the right area with magic to get results.

Twilight's school of friendship is the most inclusively-built area os equestria, with desks, writing utensils, and classrooms fit for a variety of hooves, hands, claws, mouths, and more. This breaks down a major barrier than has kept pony and non-pony creatures apart from each other. Hopefully the rest of equestria follows in her hoofsteps.

[etanow]

MASTER POST

The Experimental Monster Laboratory, or Monster Labs, is a TADC AU where the cast is in the physical world! Sorta..

C&A Research Facilities is one of the cornerstones of the science and medical worlds! They do everything; funding research, manufacturing equipment, and research into the known and unknown in an effort to understand everything. To the public, that is.

They experiment heavily in everything, from hiring literal Gods on earth to manage the more ..sensitive divisions; mixing machine and magic, technology and the supernatural, genetic experimentation, you name it, they’ve probably done it! The world outside may not know anything of the advancements they’re researching but there is little C&A Labs won’t allow in the name of progress in understanding and cataloging everything in their universe. Our story takes place in one of the more private residencies deep in C&A, belonging to Caine; a minor God with mysterious origins, unknown limitations, and boundless enthusiasm for learning everything he can about his little science friends.

╰┈➤ Content

╚═ Unnamed fic (Coming soon...) ╚═ Bubble can cook?? .

╰┈➤ Asks

╚═ Does Pomni act like a zombie? ╚═ Is Zooble's Demon Snake Leg happy? ╚═ Gangle is in a Situation.png ╚═ Gangle's temperament ╚═ Has Ragatha ever shocked anyone? ╚═ Gangle love RAAAH ╚═ Do Caine and Ragatha fight over Pomni? ╚═ Why did Gangle summon a demon? ╚═ Why does Pomni wear a bell collar? ╚═ Kinger's eye ╚═ What if there was a baby crying? ╚═ Death trauma [Gangle and Pomni] ╚═ Kinger has ONE hobby outside of Bugs ╚═ Is Zooble protective of Gangle? ╚═ What happens when you touch Pomni's brain? ╚═ JAX DATED SOMEONE?? ╚═ What does Jax do? .

╰┈➤ References

╚═ Intro Cards ╚═ Height Chart Lineup ╚═ Zooble Demon Snake Leg Intro Card /j ╚═ Queenie ╚═ Gummigoo ╚═ The Sun Room ╚═ Logo .

╰┈➤ Arts

╚═ First ML AU Post ╚═ Second, exploring outfits ╚═ Design sketches part 2 ╚═ Pomni + flower language ╚═ Showtime + Ragapom doodles ╚═ Jax not practicing lab safety ╚═ Abstragedy cuddles ╚═ Raga doodle ╚═ Ragapom doodle ╚═ Jax and Meadowsweet ╚═ Pomni staring out a fake window.png ╚═ [Gives pomni flowers] ╚═ more doodles ig

.

╰┈➤ Misc.

╚═ Caine Lemon Rant [Animatic] ╚═ Zodiac signs?? ╚═ Caine gets called a Tumblr Sexyman and cries ╚═ Bubble Looksmaxxing ╚═ Jax wants to take ketamine with you (Romantically) ╚═ Caine eats a lemon [Animatic] ╚═ BUNNYSUITSSS ╚═ Magma doodles ╚═ Magma doodles part 2

.

╰┈➤ Pomniverse

╚═ Wonderland and Zombni are friends :D

.

╰┈➤ Boundaries / Q&A

╚═ Any story plans? I'm not sure yet, currently writing a fic and several comics on the way.

╚═ Any boundaries? None, so go crazy! I am OK with gore, NSFW, angst, violence, etc, just be sure it is tagged/TW'd appropriately as not everyone is OK with that content. I'd also like to see please LOL

╚═ Can we create fanart/fics/content? Can we dub or fancam? Yes of course!! Please tag me, I'd love to see all of it! I'm tracking the tag #TADC Monster Labs AU for other's content

╚═ Is NSFW allowed? Yes, both art and fic, so long as it's marked appropriately I'd very much love to see!

╚═ Can I ship the characters, self-ships, or OC x Canon? Yes, ship away! Just be aware the only au-canon ships are Caine/Pomni, Ragatha/Pomni, Gangle/Zooble, and PAST Ragatha/Jax.

╚═ Can we make OCs? Go on ahead! Here is a PSD file for the blank template and the PNG can be found here.

╚═ Who are you?

✦✧ Hi I'm Audi! 26, she/they. Full-time office worker, I do art in my free time. ✦ My current interests are TADC, RWBY, Looney Tunes, and Trolls. ✧ I draw using a custom PC, a Huion Kamvas 16 (2.5K), and Adobe Photoshop. Currently learning to use Procreate. ✦ I do not RP and this isn't an ask blog, asks interacting directly with characters will probably not be answered. ✧ Asks are not guaranteed to be answered, sorry if yours isn't but please don't spam/send multiple times! ✦ Commissions and requests are not open at this time, thank you. ✧ My main tumblr is Audi-art. My Twitter is Hammerspaced.

[inspired-lesson-plans]

This is a very long post. If you do not have the time, then please at least do the quick activity up top. The lesson plan that took me 4 days to write will follow the ⁜ symbol.

HW Due Mon:

Open https://mysolartime.com/ in a new tab and allow the website to track your location.

Open https://www.utctime.net/ in a new tab.

Reblog this post the current UTC time and your local time, using the following format:

21:00 UTC, 4:00 local

4. Vote in the following poll.

⁜

Social Studies, Grade 5, Geography 6.1.5.GeoSV.3: Demonstrate how to use digital geographic tools, maps and globes to measure distances and determine time zones, and locations using latitude and longitude.

Do Now:

Provide students with a paper copy of a population density world map and 2 minutes to fulfill the following instruction:

Draw lines on the map in order to separate the world into 24 time zones. Try not to separate dense population centers into different time zones.

⁎

Class Discussion:

Use the projector to share and discuss the maps of any students who are willing to share. Have fun with this, there are bound to be some good ideas and bad ideas because 5th grade is like that.

Then, project the official world time zone map, and discuss the good ideas and bad ideas present here.

Exemplary discussion points:

The 0-point of the timezone map is the Prime Meridian, which cuts right through England. Why do you think it's in England?

How come some countries like the US and Brazil are cut into multiple time zones, but China isn't?

Why do you think the lines are pretty straight in Europe, Africa, and North and South America, but so confused in Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?

⁑

Direct Instruction:

Long ago, nobody really cared about the exact time. All you really needed was sunrise, sunset, and noon, and you could figure those out with your eyes. If you wanted to be fancy, you could put a stick in the ground and trace its shadow over the course of the day to measure out hours.

Perhaps the first recorded complaint of time-keeping technology comes from Rome in 250BCE.

The gods confound the man who first found out how to distinguish hours! Confound him too Who in this place set up a sundial To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial: one more sure, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when it was time To go to dinner, when I had anything to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall-to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials, The greatest part of its inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, creep along the streets. [x]

In other words, "Kids these days are always looking at their sundials. Back in my day, there were only three times, Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All we needed to tell the time was our stomach!"

Please note this was a satire, so if it sounds funny, you are correct.

But for 18th century British sailors, accurate timekeeping was no laughing matter. These sailors used fancy math (called trigonometry) to calculate their latitude. So long as they knew the angle between the sun and the horizon, and the time when that angle was measured.

Ship's captains would keep logbooks of these measurements. That way, another ship's captain would be able to reference the logbook in order to replicate the journey, much like replicating a science experiment.

Now... think about this... how can you do that unless the next captain is using the same time as you. We take this for granted today, but how can you be sure that two clocks are synchronized?

Scientists in the town of Greenwich, England (pronounced gren`-ich) recorded the solar noon every day of the year and calculated the Greenwich Mean Time. By keeping an accurate and exact time in one exact place, GMT eventually the Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) for everyone in the world. That's why in the time zone map, the 0 runs through one specific part of England.

This is important. For the first time in human history, the clocks in different places were synchronized. Solar noon happens at a different time in London than it does in Greenwich, but if they both use GMT (otherwise known as UTC), then they can coordinate their schedules. This was very important for railroads, where exact, coordinated schedules are very important.

Soon, the entire country of England existed within a single time zone.

When the United States built railroads that spanned vast lateral (East-West) distances, they needed to create different time zones for cities that were far apart from each other, such as New York and Chicago. Thus, the US became the first country with multiple time zones.

As the rest of the world industrialized, they needed to pick their time zones. You can see this on the map. Each time zone is, at least in theory, as wide as 1/24 the circumference of the Earth. It's like the space between the numbers on a clock! Most countries are smaller than this, so they can comfortably fit within a single timezone. Others, like Brazil and Australia, divided their landmasses into two or three time zones.

China did not have widespread industrialization until post-WWII dictatorial communist rule. This was a very uncaring and inconsiderate government, to put it mildly. Suffice it to say that for Chinese farmers in the far west, having to get up 2-3 hours earlier every day would have been the least of their worries.

⁂

Modeled Activity:

Show students how to use this Day and Night world map as a way to visualize the day and night cycle across the world.

Additionally, show them how to use https://mysolartime.com/ to find their current time where they live.

Give students a moment to calculate the difference between their Local Time and the official time in their time zone, and what that means.

(I am currently in Philadelphia, which is 11 minutes East of New York City)

Finally, show students how to use https://www.utctime.net/ to find their exact, current UTC.

Have students calculate the difference in minutes and hours between Local Time and Official Time.

00:41 - 19:30 = -5:11 (Philadelphia is 5 hours and 11 minutes East of Greenwich, England)

Explain that every internet connected device in the world uses a service like this one, then adds or subtracts hours to fit the time zone of your current location.

Higher Order Learning:

Students work in small groups to look up the local time in different major cities around the world, recording their data on a worksheet. As they do, they should discuss the following questions:

Are time zones still relevant in our always-online society?

If you can know your Local Time and the UTC any time you look at your phone, then what purpose do time zones still serve?

How would it feel for schools and businesses to use UTC instead?

How would you feel if your school day went from 4:20-10:50 UTC?

Finally, each student must individually write at least 3 sentences responding to the following question:

Would you advocate for or against your school district dropping references to the time in your time zone and instead referring to UTC and Local Time? Why or why not?

[missnxthingg]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Actress!Reader (Enemies to Lovers & Fake Dating AU) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando Norris really messed up on the first time meeting one of Hollywood's newest and hottest stars, Y/N L/N. But when his reputation gets too bad, she might be the only one who can save his career from being completely doomed. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 2.2K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - Swearing 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - My first Lando series! And this time, I promised to finish it all because it's been already mostly written. I was just in need for some cliché shit, and I just threw in some of my favourite tropes together. Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did as writing it!

series masterlist | main masterlist | main blog | taglist

𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄

In a world of celebrities, reputation matters. It doesn’t matter if you’re a singer filling up stadiums, actors earning big awards or a famous race driver, how you are perceived by the public eye is extremely important for your career. Lando Norris knew that. Yet, he continues to fuck things up day after day. The nightclubs, the girls, and the lack of winning on the tracks weren’t doing him any good. It got to the point where it didn’t matter if he did good on the race, climbing from P13 to P2, because, in the end, all everyone talked about was how his personal life was getting in the way of his professional one.

“He’ll never get a win if he continues to party like a teenage boy”, said a comment on one of his Instagram posts.

His PR team wanted to pull their hairs, bending backwards trying to clean off his image and making everyone forget about all of those bad things. As much as Lando tried to keep everything very private, things get leaked when you’re a public person. No secret stays hidden for long, especially if you’re not trying too hard to keep it hidden. But there was an old trick under their sleeves that would probably work, although the McLaren golden boy wouldn’t be very trilled with their drastic decision.

“No fucking way”, he shot once the idea was put on the table during a meeting scheduled at the McLaren Technology Centre, where he was spending the weekend to discuss new strategies for next week’s race. “You realize what you’re asking me?”

“Lando, your reputation is completely fucked. We quite literally have nothing else we could do to clean up the mess”, one of the members of the team said. “And we know lying isn’t easy, but this doesn’t have to last forever. We promise that by the end of the year, you can put off this bullshit silently”.

“It’s not the idea that is bad. Is the person you assigned me to lie with”, he crossed his arms and looked away. The head of his team sighed, knowing it would be too hard to make him break and cave into their idea.

Fake dating has been a good old trick in the celebrity world for a very long time, and it almost always works out. When the team came up with the idea, it looked almost flawless. All he needed was a girlfriend, making him look all fluffy and cute for the media once again, making everyone forget about the life he had before. Of course, it would coast a lot of sacrifices for Lando. It would require quitting the DMs slidings and now his parties would all be accompanied by the same girl. He probably would’ve accepted it in the end. Unfortunately, his team did poorly on the choice of who he would be doing this with.

“We know that you and Y/N aren’t exactly best friends, but her PR agency is close to ours, so it was easy to make an agreement with her. Also, she’s quite literally the sweetest person in the world, and everyone on the internet loves her. She’s everything your reputation needs”.

Y/N Y/L/N is the newest actress to arrive in Hollywood. Last year, she made her debut as a supporting actress on a Netflix movie. But recently, she scored a leading role on an HBO show that had everyone obsessed over her. Everyone except Lando, who already had a bad encounter with her a year prior.

“I can prove them I’m serious on the tracks, doing my own job. I don’t need a girlfriend to do that”, he leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms.

“Lando, you know that your reputation is fucked. Everybody thinks you're childish and unserious about your job. We want to change that”, his manager stepped into the conversation, pulling his attention back.

“But why her? Why the person who hates me the most in this universe?” 

“Because she’s the only one who accepted this challenge”.

Y/N was very good at her job, and she most definitely wouldn’t need any relationship to get to new places. But the publicity of dating a Formula 1 driver would be very good, since the sport is doing so good on social media. Hollywood is a game, and she’s just now learning how to play it.

Before he could even ask why she agreed into that idea, Y/N shyly opened the door, opening a small smile to everyone on the table. With his blood already boiling under his skin, Lando chuckled before getting up from the table to exit the room. He passed right through her, shoulder bumping into hers on his way out.

“I guess you already told him”, she sighed, resting her bag over a seat at the meeting table. Y/N looked at his PR agent, who she had a meeting a few days ago, and that shook her head, pointing out the disaster of a meeting they just had. “He didn’t like it at all, did he?”

“He’s not very pleased with the idea”.

“Of course”, she nodded. “I’ll talk to Norris”.

Y/N walked around the entire place, only to find Lando sitting alone in another meeting room, facing a window that had a view to the lake outside. As usual, it was a gray day in England, making the atmosphere even more heavy than he wished for it to be. Without saying a word, she sat next to him and he pretended she wasn’t there by not acknowledging her presence in the room.

“Are you really going to pretend I’m not here?”, Y/N broke the silence and Lando sighed.

“I don’t want to see you right now”, he admitted, making her roll her eyes. Could he be any more childish?

“Norris, I know it seems like the end of the world, but it’s not a big deal. We just have to pretend to be together for a while and have a quiet breakup by the end of the year”, she said, making him finally look at her. “It’s not that hard”.

“But it is, Y/N”, he grunted. “Do you know how does it feel to not be trusted? Not being trusted with your work and, most importantly, not being trusted with your actions as a human. They think that alone I cannot put out the negativity around my name”.

“It’s just for a few months. And after this is done, we won’t ever need to see each other again, you know?”, she said. 

“You realize that we’re going to be together almost all the time through an entire year, right? Not to mention that we cannot be seeing with anyone else until this deal is done. It will drive both of us insane.”

“We have to make it work”, she shot, making Lando chuckle.

“Why, Y/N?”, he crossed his arms and frowned. “Why did you accept this propose?”

“The publicity is good”, she admitted. “And you know, acting is my passion, but people need to know my name, so I can climb my way up in this industry. I’ve been trying so hard to be successful, but no new roles are offered to me. If fake dating you is a way to go, then I’m doing it”.

“You hate me”, Lando stated, making Y/N roll her eyes once again.

“We hate each other”.

“No, YOU hate me. You’ve hated me since the very first time we met”, he said, making Y/N’s mouth fall agape.

“Well, I had a pretty damn good reason to hate you, didn’t I?”

The first time they met each other was at a gala event in Monaco. Lando was required to appear by his PR team, thinking that having him appearing looking pretty as all hell would be good publicity for him. The same thing happened for Y/N, who had just come out with her first big film and needed to be seen by the public eye. But unfortunately, their first encounter wasn’t what they would consider to be nice.

Her stylist chose a beautiful white dress designed by Oscar de la Renta, with feathers at the bottom, making the dress have movement and her look absolutely fantastic as she walked through that amazingly fancy party. But just as she was starting to enjoy the party, someone bumped into her, spilling their red whine all over her. Before she could say anything, the person that bumped into her spoke up.

“Watch where you’re going, doll”, he laughed after he collided with her body, passing his hand through his shirt, checking if there were any drops on his clothes. “You nearly spilt wine on my shirt”.

He was clearly very drunk, and anyone could see it in his eyes. But Y/N didn’t care. Her perfect and amazing dress was ruined, and the person who trashed it didn’t even fucking care. It made her want to burst into flames.

“You fucking idiot! Look what you’ve done!” Y/N cried, looking down at her dress, now painted pink with the splash of wine. When she looked up, Lando was laughing, mostly because he was so out of himself, that he just couldn’t filter whatever happened a few seconds ago. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“Sorry”, he said, but proceeded to burp right on her face. Then, the man laughed again. Without any power to continue arguing with him, Y/N left the event and went straight home, not wanting to face another second of that event.

But, it seemed like fate was against her. A week later, after spending some marvellous few days in Monaco, Y/N was invited to watch the Formula 1 Grand Prix by her team. And even though her weekend was going amazing so far, the whole thing went down the drain when she met the same man who ruined her dress a few days ago. Only this time, he wasn’t drunk and he was wearing a racing suit, getting all ready to perform at the track later that day.

“You have got to be fucking joking”, Y/N muttered, low enough so no one could listen to it. Soon, she felt an arm around her, making her turn around and meet her agent, Clara.

“I want you to meet Lando Norris. He’s part of our PR agency as well”, she said, making Y/N walk towards the driver, who was listening to music as the mechanics around him worked at the car. 

Lando didn’t remember meeting Y/N on the gala. He had been so out of himself that night, with all the bad races he was coming from, that he did everything in his will to get out of that reality. So when a beautiful girl crossed paths with him and shot him an angry look, he didn’t understand what he did wrong to deserve such a hateful glance. 

“You don’t remember me?” She frowned once they were introduced again. “Oh, alright. You were so shitfaced that you forgot that you spilt wine over me and didn’t bother to apologize on that gala in Monaco. And then, proceeded to burp right in my face”.

He just couldn’t contain himself, and he laughed once again with the story. “I’m so sorry, baby. But this is actually very funny, sorry”.

Laughing at her face again didn’t do much on making Lando earn points with Y/N. Instead, she proceeded to hate him and make it all crystal clear every time they met on future events. And unfortunately, it happened more times than they enjoyed. After all, having their publicity teams so close to each other, they were often assigned to attend the same events; all of them filled with banters and fights that led them into a lifetime of hatred for each other. Which led them to this very important decision to take.

“Are you actually willing to put everything between us aside for this stunt?”, Lando frowned, not understanding why she would accept that challenge. Y/N took a deep breath and her lips curved into a sad, weak smile.

“I am willing to do anything for my career, Lando. Even pretending to love you”, that was the first time she ever called him Lando since they met. That definitely caught his attention. It definitely made his heart soften.

He knew the feeling of caring so much about your dream to the point of doing anything required to be done in order to achieve it. And for a second, Lando found something that connected Y/N to him: their passion for their jobs. Suddenly, what used to be an angry and confused look, turned soft and understanding just with a few words.

“I’ll do it”, he said, making Y/N breath normally again in relief.

“Okay”, she got up from his seat. But before she could exit the room, Y/N turned around and laughed. “This isn’t going to work, right?”

“Probably not”, Lando laughed too. “But if you feel like this is worthy, I trust you”.

It was one of those rare moments where he would fail on hating Y/N. The moments where his human side spoke louder. And she saw it; this time genuinely smiling to him.

 “Let’s do this, Norris”.

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

⤳ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @kapsylia @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny

crossed means i can't tag you! dm me and maybe we can get it fixed

[littlerequiem]

the hitchhiker's guide to isekai ˚⁎⁺ levi x gn!reader

CONTENT — Levi getting isekai'd into our world, (questionable) humor, slice of life, swearing, Levi is a boomer when it comes to technology, pop culture refs, suggestive, mentions of bondage (wc: 1.1k words). Written for Day 3 - Isekai, Levi Month 2024 - @levievent

For as long as you could remember, Levi Ackerman had always been your favorite fictional character. There was something about his strength, his empathy, and his kindness that drew you to him.

Then, one day, the universe delivered him on a silver platter.

It was midsummer night when you found him. There he was, lying in your new antique wardrobe, groggy and half asleep, dark hair tousled to the side. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing; was this really your favorite anime character, in the flesh?

Before you could think on the logistics of it all, however, Levi was already reaching for the small knife tucked in his boot.

And threatening you with it.

It all happened in a flash.

With your heart drumming in your chest, you remember fumbling for words, looking straight into those sharp, silver eyes you’d always imagined must shine like starlight (and gods, they truly did).

Looking back, your first words lacked a certain decorum. “Wh—who—is this some kind of skit, huh? Are you some kind of pervert?!?”

Levi looked at you then like you were a complete idiot.

As it turned out, Levi was not, in fact, a pervert, nor did he mean to end up here in the first place.

Instead, he told you the hard facts: that he was Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Survey Corps. That he owned the same closet in his office, only in his own world. That the last thing he remembers was falling asleep in this piece of furniture, an attempt to hide from Hange who’d been up in arms trying to convince him to help with an experiment.

Your reality, it seemed, was connected to the Attack on Titan universe through a mysterious wardrobe.

(Like fucking Narnia.)

It was then that it was decided that he would stay with you until he found a way home.

A month has passed since this first moment, and to say that your daily life has been altered would be an understatement. You’re living with one of your personal heroes, after all—not that you let him know you view him as such.

Levi is trying to get back to his world, and in the meantime, Levi gets to discover your world: the joys of washing machines, the taste of matcha tea, the ease of hoovers, rock music.

And today, he’s uncovering the mystery that is the internet.

“I don’t understand,” Levi grumbles, his voice rough like sandpaper. Lines of tension form across his pale forehead, his gaze fixed on your laptop propped on the kitchen table. “People spend their time looking at cat... paintings?”

He’s perusing your blog.

“These are actually photographs that you’re looking at, but I suppose people also love drawings of cats. Cats are a very popular topic, see,” you explain, coming closer as you stop him from clicking on a sketchy looking pop up: ‘Free iPhone 15! Claim Yours Now’.

Levi's charged gaze follows as he watches you go about it; you have the thought he smells nice, like fresh linen and tea.

You clear your throat, withdrawing from his personal space. “Um... anyway, that’s not all you can do with the internet. People use it for all sorts of things: you can look up the news, the weather, forums…”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. “What’s that? Sounds like a disease.”

Ah, where to start...

“Forums are online spaces where people can discuss things. You can host debates, provide instructions, and more. Personally, I use them to gush about things I love. Like books!”

Levi clicks his tongue. “So, a bookclub?”

“Mm, yes, and no. Like sure, on the forum I'm a mod for, I love to discuss the plot, the characters, and the writing, but I also just enjoy goofing around with my friends and sharing memes.”

“Me...mes.” Levi looks puzzled by this word.

You stifle a snort. “Memes are like... jokes. Only sometimes, they're also cultural staples.” At his skeptical expression, you shrug. “I guess this world is different from yours, in that respect. We have... less immediate dangers, more free time.”

“That's not a bad thing,” he mutters, tone oddly soft. He averts his tepid gaze, looking back to your blog as he exhales through his nose. “But your world still makes no sense to me. Especially all of this.”

He nods towards the web page.

“It’s okay, the internet takes a while to get used to," you say. "Even for me... I constantly feel like an old crone whenever I hear all the lingo kids are coming up with these days.”

“Hmph.”

Levi looks unimpressed. So, forums—and the internet, it seems—aren’t his thing. Probably for the better—the last thing you need right now is for him to realize there’s a whole fanbase devoted to discussing his character (not to mention the other, less PG-friendly aspects of the conversation).

“Hey, how about we take a break?" You tilt your head, flashing him an easy smile. "You’ve been staring at the screen all morning. It can be a strain on your eyesight.”

Levi’s half-lidded stare crinkles, his lips pursing into a thoughtful pout, the same look he gets whenever you throw him scraps of information about your world and its strange customs.

“I was planning to make some tea,” you add, “want a cup?”

“… if you're making one anyway,” he mumbles, scowling in a way that reminds you of a grumpy cat. Cute.

You head towards your small kitchen, grabbing Levi’s favorite tea bag and laying out clean cups. As the kettle groans alive and you eventually hear that familiar sizzling that tells you the water’s come to a boil, another noise coming from behind garners your attention.

“Oi, something happened to your cat photo-thing,” you overhear Levi drawl.

You turn with a raised brow.

That’s when you notice that Levi’s somehow ended up on your desktop page, the familiar sight of your screensaver (more cats!) appearing into view.

But that’s also when you notice the mouse is hovering dangerous close to one of your folders... your babygirl folder.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no...

“DON’T CLICK THAT!” you plead, attempting to rush to his side to avoid the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Too late. Levi has entered the folder and somehow managed to click on one of the more scandalous pictures; your peripheral catches his expression, and it's the most stupor you've seen on his face yet... and is that pink dusting his cheeks?

Because Levi is looking straight at one of the fanarts you’d saved of him months ago.

Where his pixelated counterpart is tied up. Stark naked.

Well, shit.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist

[coqxettee]

THAT girl Night Routine

I haven’t blogged in forever, and for that I’m truly sorry (I was in a blogging rut and just genuinely had no idea or motivation to post anything, so I’m kinda writing this not only for myself but for any of the girlies out there trying to get a structured night routine for the coming summer ༓ ☾.｡*ﾟ+.

Start your “Night Routine” at a certain time - Now the evenings are staying lighter, this can be difficult, but I’d say starting at 6:00PM or 7:00PM is a good starting time. Ideally start it after you have had your last meal of the day. Let this be the time of the day that you are going to begin to switch off and get ready to relax ♡

If you like to stretch or do yoga in the evening , do this and then do your skincare and have a shower afterwards, even if it is a quick one. It will make you feel so much more fresh and clean when you put your pyjamas on ♡

Shower - I know some girlies prefer to shower in the morning which is totally okay! And some girls shower twice a day (but of course this isn’t practical for everyone) - If you do choose to shower of an evening, make sure to use calming products. Products with lavender in, essential oils etc can also be really good because lavender has calming properties in it. Moisturise, and if your feeling extra, spray a few spritz of perfume. (I know it sounds crazy but Marilyn Monroe used to do this before bed!) If you are planning on doing a nice hairstyle the next day, prep your hair. Put your overnight curlers in or rollers ♡

Get changed into Pyjamas - *Important* make sure you are picking girly, cozy pyjamas to wear. Feeling luxury even when your just relaxing makes the biggest difference without you realising. Instead of wearing a huge baggy shirt and shorts, wear something satin or linen, something with florals or a pretty pink dressing gown. Soft materials and light pastel colours. Victoria’s Secret have some beautiful pyjamas (I love the striped one’s) and pretty satin robes too. There’s no better feeling than getting out the shower and putting on fresh pyjamas for the evening. A cute fluffy pair of slippers or socks is perfect too ♡

Take off your makeup and do your skincare - *So important* Don’t ever go to bed with makeup on and don’t ever skip your skincare routine. I know (trust me) how tempting it can be to just go straight to bed, but your skin with thank you in the long run and so will you when you wake up in the morning. Spend time with your skincare and try not to think of it as a *chore*. It’s taking care of yourself! So cherish that ♡

Set the evening mood - Tidy your room once more (so your not waking up to a cluttered space), light a candle, switch on fairy-lights. Do whatever you need to, to make your room or space around you more cozy. Main lights in the evening are a no-go. They wake you up and don’t let your eyes or body relax. Soft lighting is key, maybe spritz your room with a relaxing lavender room spray, get your bed ready too. Fluff the pillows, spray pillow mist, set back the covers, do whatever you need to do to let your body and mind know that your getting ready to settle in for the night ♡

Limit screen time - If you are going to go on your phone/technology before bed, make sure the media you are so consuming is light and makes you feel comforted. Do not watch anything too deep that will play on your sub-conscious mind. Girly videos or vlogs are lovely to watch because they put you in such a lovely mood. I know how tempting it can be to be on your phone right up until the last minute when your eyes close. Some of us even believe we HAVE to be on our phones or be watching something, in order to get to sleep. Whilst this may be true for some people, if this is the case for you, just try one evening going to sleep without looking at a screen. I try to limit screen time 2 hours before bed, and don’t look at my phone 45 minutes before sleeping ♡

Journal/reflect/plan - Evening’s are a perfect time to journal about your day in your diary, write out some journal prompts and make your to-do list for the next day. To be an organised girly you have to know what the next day is going to bring, so making a to-do list so you can make the most of your time is key to a successful and productive day ♡

Meditate - I know meditation is not for everyone, but I myself try to meditate once every day, and the lasting effect it can have on your mental health is so impactful and really a beautiful thing. It helps us rationalise things, put our brains to sleep and sets us in a calm and tranquil state for the evening ♡

Make a warm drink - We give babies warm milk to help them sleep and with us, it’s not really that different. milk does contain tryptophan – an amino acid which is thought to help promote feelings of sleepiness. If you don’t like milk, try chamomile/lavender tea or a hot chocolate. Something comforting that will warm you from the inside out and help with drowsiness before sleep.

Read - Hot girls read. That is a fact. But reading is not only beneficial for one’s intellect but it is such a calming and relaxed act, especially when you have a beautiful book you can escape into right before sleeping. Make sure the book you choose is once again light-hearted and is going to be something that makes you feel happy and cozy before you switch your brain off to sleep ♡

Sleep - The most important part of this routine and the reason why you have taken so much care with your evening routine. Gorgeous, gorgeous girlies get at LEAST 7-9 hours sleep every night. Sleep is one of the most important things in life, and for so many reasons, but mainly - It affects everything you do. Your brain, your sub-conscious, how you feel about yourself, your appetite, your skin & eyes, your mood and your energy levels. Absolutely everything about you is affected by sleep, so make sure you get enough. Try to sleep in darkness (or with a small light if you need one) or an eye mask, don’t forget to set an alarm for the next day too ♡

Extra evening tips:

Some important things to consider ♡

Don’t eat late before going to bed! It’s not good for you! Avoid coffee or things with sugar in as these will give your energy instead of helping you to wind down ♡

Satin bedsheets/pillow cases are perfect for protecting your skin and hair. They allow your skin to breathe and protect your hair from marsh materials which helps it to grow ♡

Call a friend/text a loved one in the evening. I love with my parents so I always spend time with my mum before going to bed, but it’s a lovely thing to check on someone before setting in for the evening ♡

Whilst limiting screen time is important, watching one episode of a comfort series or show can help you feel so happy and comforted ♡

Whilst your going about your evening routine, listen to soft girly music. Or classical music if you want more of classic vibe to your night ♡

Listen to subliminal’s overnight!! *Important* and I feel like most of us forget to. But there are so many you can listen to just overnight, and the results will be so worth it ♡

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello hello! i love your blog and it has been a fantastic resource for me. if i may ask, how does one go about writing music? my character is put in a situation where listening to a song is a large part of a scene, and i want to describe the song and music itself. while i would describe a guitar or drum, the song i have in mind specifically is mostly digital (think similar to edm) so i'm not sure how to do it. do you have any idea how i could tackle this?

thank you in advance!

Writing Notes: Electronic Music

Electronic Music - any music involving electronic processing, such as recording and editing on tape, and whose reproduction involves the use of loudspeakers.

It is produced from a wide variety of sound resources—from sounds picked up by microphones to those produced by electronic oscillators (generating basic acoustical waveforms such as sine waves, square waves, and sawtooth waves), complex computer installations, and microprocessors—that are recorded on tape and then edited into a permanent form.

Generally, except for one type of performed music that has come to be called “live electronic music”, electronic music is played back through loudspeakers either alone or in combination with ordinary musical instruments.

Musicians are always quick to adopt and explore new technologies.

The fast-paced changes wrought by electrification, from the microphone via the analogue synthesizer to the laptop computer, have led to a wide range of new musical styles and techniques.

Electronic music has grown to a broad field of investigation, taking in historical movements such as musique concrète and elektronische Musik, and contemporary trends such as electronic dance music and electronica.

The Art of Noises (1913) by Luigi Russolo is an important text in the history of electronic music, because it is the first attempt seriously to categorise all sounds and, indeed, to treat them as potential music.

Russolo wrote:

Every manifestation of our life is accompanied by noise. The noise, therefore, is familiar to our ear, and has the power to conjure up life itself. Sound, alien to our life, always musical and a thing unto itself, an occasional but unnecessary element, has become to our ears what an overfamiliar face is to our eyes. Noise, however, reaching us in a confused and irregular way from the irregular confusion of our life, never entirely reveals itself to us, and keeps innumerable surprises in reserve. We are therefore certain that by selecting, coordinating and dominating all noises we will enrich men with a new and unexpected sensual pleasure. Although it is characteristic of noise to recall us brutally to real life, the art of noise must not limit itself to imitative reproduction. It will achieve its most emotive power in the acoustic enjoyment, in its own right, that the artist’s inspiration will extract from combined noises. Here are the 6 families of noises of the Futurist orchestra which we will soon set in motion mechanically:

Rumbles: Roars, explosions, crashes, splashes, booms

Whistles: Hisses, snorts

Whispers: Murmurs, mumbles, grumbles, gurgles

Screeches: Creaks, rustles, buzzes, crackles, scrapes

Noises obtained by percussion: Metal, wood, skin, stone, terracotta etc.

Voices of animals and men: Shouts, screams, groans, shrieks, howls, laughs, wheezes, sobs

In this inventory we have encapsulated the most characteristic of the fundamental noises; the others are merely the associations and combinations of these.

Some Electronic Music Vocabulary

ADSR – Stands for Attack, Decay, Sustain and Release – refers to the envelope [i.e., characteristic of a sound (e.g. volume or filter) as it changes over time; can be used as a tool to shape a sound over time] applied to a sound to shape it over time. Can be applied to the volume, filter, pitch or more. Can make things sound plucky, soft, or ambient etc.

Aliasing – Subtle distortion that occurs in the digital realm when the input frequency is higher than the sample rate. The sample cannot be measured accurately and thus introduces imperfections into the sound.

Ambience – Can refer to a sound in a track which creates a sense of space or atmosphere – typically achieved by the use of time-based audio effects such as delays and reverbs. Also can refer to the level of sound in a recording that contains background noise, separate to the intended recording. Typically this background noise is undesirable, but sometimes it is an aesthetic choice.

Arpeggiator – A MIDI Effect that turns a static chord into an arpeggio. If that doesn’t make sense, it makes things go bleep-bleep-bleep.

Atmosphere – A sonic effect created by reverb, long tails and quieter sounds. Referred to as the background of a track.

Beat Repeat – A type of effect that takes audio as an input and repeats the snippet back at timed intervals to create a glitch effect.

Chill – A loosely-defined term to describe the sound of more relaxed, deeper and melody-driven music in electronic music. Sometimes people refer to this as a genre in itself.

Distortion – The processing of audio such that extra harmonics and loudness are added, creating a more fuller or aggressive sound. Distortion types include tube, clipping, tape, diode, overdrive, fuzz and many more.

Doppler Effect – The sonic effect of frequencies sounding higher pitched when moving closer to an audio source, and lower pitched when moving away. Like when you drive past a police siren.

Formant – A vocal quality of a sound relating to vowels, and a filter type that achieves a vowel-like sound. If you’ve ever heard an ‘oooh’ or ‘aaah’, then you’ve heard what a formant sounds like.

Gate – An audio effect that reduces the volume of a sound once it passes below a certain threshold. It’s good for reducing background noise or unwanted sounds in a recording or sample. Just like your gate at home stops unwanted people coming into your house.

Glide – Portamento—when the pitch slides evenly from note to note

Lazer – A type of sound made by a synth that features fast-moving pitch envelopes to create a ‘pew pew’ type effect.

Masking – A phenomenon when two sounds with similar frequency content cause one to become ‘buried’ due to phase cancellation or differences is loudness. For example, two piano sounds playing at the same time might cause one of them to sound less powerful and thin in the mix.

Normalize – Increases a waveform’s level to its highest before it becomes distorted

Panning – The process of moving a sound either left or right in the stereo field. Panning is a great mix technique to achieve width and space.

Polar Pattern – The way a microphone picks up a sound. Some pickup sound in many directions, others only in one direction, and everything in between.

Reflections – Part of a reverb that creates echoes based off sounds hitting walls and bouncing around rapidly.

Transient – The initial start point of a drum sound, where the audio goes from near silence to sudden loudness. Sounds clicky.

Voice stealing – When a synthesizer is programmed to play more sounds than accessible voices shuts down some present voices so new tunes can be played

Tips for Writing About Music

The most important step when writing about music is to write, read, and listen to as much as possible. Writing hones your voice, while reading exposes you to various styles and information that will shape your writing. The wider the range of music you embrace and study, the better your perspective and critical ear.

Read about music: Understand as much as possible about music, from instrumentation to how artists create their song lyrics. Reading also helps teach the technical vocabulary specific to certain genres. To help you gain a better command of music, use music writing reference books, such as A Short Guide to Writing About Music by Jonathan Bellman and How to Write About Music, edited by Marc Woodworth and Ally-Jane Grossan. Both of these works discuss how to research and write about music effectively, and are great resources for new music writers.

Stay informed: Develop an understanding of news, events, and cultural conversations that inform songwriters. For example, understanding the politics behind Russian feminist collective/punk group Pussy Riot is necessary if you want to write an informed piece on their output.

Learn music theory: The more informed your technical language, the better your music writing will be. Elements such as BPM, timbre, crescendos, adagio, and other music sounds will help you more deeply understand a particular piece of music and its relationship to other songs on an album.

Listen to music: Don’t only listen to genres that you prefer, but expand your ear to different types of music. Artists are inspired by music across time and genre, and the best music critics recognize those references.

Put work out: Whether you join your school’s paper, do creative writing, or start your own blog, getting eyes on your work is imperative to improving your music writing. There are also online resources that aggregate opportunities and writing prompts for writers of all experience levels, providing a great opportunity for new writers to get their foot in the door.

Pitch to publications: Online and print publications are always looking for new pitches from writers. The more places you pitch, the more likely it is that you will sell a piece. Don’t be discouraged if you pitch one outlet and never hear back. Lean into your passion, keep writing, and pitch some more.

Also describe the effects of the song to your character/s. The effects of music can be described using various adjectives like relaxing, calm, refreshing, soothing, etc.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much, really glad to hear this! Choose which of these notes would be most appropriate to incorporate in your story. Do go through the sources as there are more information I wasn't able to include here.

Another reference on music-related terms, plus some great additions. And more resources that could help with describing sounds and scenes related to music in your story:

Words to Describe Sounds

100 Sensory Words

Some Percussion Instruments

Some Pop Music Vocabulary

Writing Template: Singing Scene

Finding the right words that could accurately describe the specific song you have in mind to your readers is one way to tackle this, but it's definitely a challenge. Hope you find the right words/references here!

[murderdronesreimagined]

Welcome To Murder Drones: Re-Imagining

Set in the 1970s, this AU takes place on Earth instead of Copper-9. All biological life has been wiped out for nearly 15 years and all that remains are abandoned buildings, loose technology and Rouge AI.

During the release of the newest models for worker drones, an unknown virus took over administration as led the disassembly drones on a complete wipeout of all humans and the remaining worker drones, some of which are now hiding out in an old JcJenson underground military base while others are scattered about through the great blizzard.

It is now the year 1985 and things are starting to change. The disassembly drones have changed up their routine, materials and resources within the bunker are getting dangerously low, and the threat of execution within the bunker have become more real.

It seems all hope is lost within the bunker, that is until Khan, the head leader of the Worker Defense Force's rebellious daughter, Uzi Doorman, decides to take matters into her own hands and finally end the opposing threat once and for all... And to finally get out of the bunker.

[ASKS ARE OPEN...]

There is currently an ask blog open to all character alongside an a03 fanfic that I'm writing! The most recent chapter is linked below! Please keep in mind that most of the main cast have not met yet in the story, so any asks regarding weather N or Uzi have interacted right now in the story are considered spoilers by [NULL] since they haven't officially met, so keep that in mind! ^^

Also, just a quick disclaimer! Please keep any questions regarding both the AU and myself as the creator to the ask blog! As this is an AU blog I don't personally like receiving dms here unless we've interacted a good bit! I'm not opposed to receiving dms, just keep it to important matters! I may respond quickly to multiple posts at a time or not respond for a day or two as I'm working on this and a personal project of mine, so only one thing at a time!

I hope you all enjoy the AU and my contributions to the murder drones community!

[aliteralsemicolon]

honestly, the whole ai fight or disagreement thing is kinda insane. we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools. the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world.

you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog. it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet. ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays.

Okay so...no. It's never that black and white. Otherwise I could argue that you might as well go 100% technological and never touch grass again. Which sounds just as silly. There are many problems with AI and it's more than just 'robots taking over'. It's actually a deeper conversation about equity, ethics, environmentalism, corruption and capitalism. That's an essay I'm not sure a lot of people are willing to read, otherwise they would be doing their own research on this. I'll sum it up the best I can.

DISCLAIMER As usual I am not responsible for my grammar errors, this was written and posted in one go and I did not look back even once. I'm not a professional source. I just want to explain this and put this discussion to rest on my blog. Please do your own research as well.

There's helpful advancement tools and there's harmful advancement tools. I would argue that AI falls into the latter for a few of reasons.

It's not 'just AI', it's a tool weaponised for more harm than good: Obvious examples include deep fakes and scamming, but here's more incase you're interested.

A more common nuisance is that humans now have to prove that they are not AI. More specifically, writers and students are at risk of being accused of using AI when their work reads more advance that basic writing criteria. I dealt with this just last year actually. I had to prove that the essay I dedicated weeks of my time researching, writing and gathering citations for was actually mine.

I have mutuals that have been accused of using AI because their writing seems 'too advanced' or whatever bs. Personally, I feel that an AI accusation is more valid when the words are more hollow and lack feeling (as AI ≠ emotional intelligence), not when a writer 'sounds too smart'.

"You're being biased."

Okay, here is an unbiased article for you. Please don't forget to take note of the fact that the negative is all stuff that can genuinely ruin lives and the positive is stuff that makes tasks more convenient. This is the trend in every article I've read.

Equity, ethics, corruption, environmentalism and capitalism:

Maybe there could be a world where AI is able to improve and truly help humans, but in this capitalistic world I don't see it being a reality. AI is not the actual problem in my eyes, this is. Resources are finite and lacking amongst humans. The wealthy hoard them for personal comfort and selfish innovations leading to more financial gain, instead of sharing them according to need. Capitalism is another topic of its own and I want to keep my focus on AI specifically so here are some sources on this topic. I highly recommend skimming through them at least.

> Artificial Intelligence and the Black Hole of Capitalism: A More-than-Human Political Ethology > Exploiting the margin: How capitalism fuels AI at the expense of minoritized groups > Rethinking of Marxist perspectives on big data, artificial intelligence (AI) and capitalist economic development

I want to circle back to your first paragraph and just dissect it really quick.

"we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools."

One quick google search gives you many articles explaining that and deeming this statement irrelevant to this discussion. I think this was more a case of inexperience with the internet and online data. The generations since are more experienced/familiar with this sort of technology. You may have heard of 'once it's out there it can never be deleted' pertaining to how nothing can be deleted off the internet. I do not think you're stupid anon, I think you understand this and how dangerous it truly is. Especially with the rise in weaponisation of AI. I'm going to link some quora and reddit posts (horrible journalism ik but luckily I'm not a journalist), because taking personal opinions from people who experienced that era feels important.

> Quora | When the internet came out, were people afraid of it to a similar degree that people are afraid of AI? > Reddit | Were people as scared of computers when they were a new thing, as they are about AI now? > Reddit | Was there hysteria surrounding the introduction of computers and potential job losses?

"the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world."

I think this is a logical guess based on pattern recognition. I cannot find any sources to back this up. Either that or you mean to say that artists and writers are not being harmed by AI. Which would be a really ignorant statement.

We know about stolen content from creatives (writers, artists, musicians, etc) to train AI. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves.

Let's use writers for example. The work writers put out there is used without their consent to train AI for improvement. This is stealing. Remember the very recent issue of writer having to state that they do not consent to their work being uploaded or shared anywhere else because of those apps stealing it and putting it behind a paywall?

I shouldn't have to expand further on why this is a problem. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves. If you're still wanting to argue it's not going to be with me, here are some sources to help you out.

> AI, Inspiration, and Content Stealing > ‘Biggest act of copyright theft in history’: thousands of Australian books allegedly used to train AI model > AI Detectors Get It Wrong. Writers Are Being Fired Anyway

"you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog."

...

"it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet."

Yes there is usually a general fear of the unknown. Take covid for example and how people were mass buying toilet paper. The reason this statement cannot be applied here is due to evidence of it being an actual issue. You can see AI's effects every single day. Think about AI generated videos on facebook (from harmless hope core videos to proaganda) that older generations easily fall for. With recent developments, it's actually becoming harder for experienced technology users to differentiate between the real and fake content too. Do I really need to explain why this is a major, major problem?

> AI-generated images already fool people. Why experts say they'll only get harder to detect. > Q&A: The increasing difficulty of detecting AI- versus human-generated text > New results in AI research: Humans barely able to recognize AI-generated media

"ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays."

AI is man-made. It only knows what it has been fed from us. Its intelligence is currently limited to what humans know. And it's definitely not as intelligent as humans because of the lack of emotional intelligence (which is a lot harder to program because it's more than math, repetition and coding). At this stage, I don't think AI is going to replace humans. Truthfully I don't know if it ever can. What I do know is that even if you don’t agree with everything else, you can’t disagree with the environmental factor. We can't really have AI without the resources to help run it.

Which leads us back to: finite number of resources. I'm not sure if you're aware of how much water and energy go into running even generative AI, but I can tell you that it's not sustainable. This is important because we're already in an irrevocable stage of the climate crisis and scientists are unsure if Earth as we know it can last another decade, let alone century. AI does not help in the slightest. It actually adds to the crisis, we're just uncertain to what degree at this point. It's not looking good though.

I am not against AI being used as a tool if it was sustainable. You can refute all my other arguments, but you can't refute this. It's a fact and your denial or lack of care won't change the outcome.

My final and probably the most insignificant reason on this list but it matters to me: It’s contributing to humans becoming dumber and lazier.

It's no secret that humans are declining in intelligence. What makes AI so attractive is its ability to provide quick solutions. It gathers the information we're looking for at record speed and saves us the time of having to do the work ourselves.

And I suppose that is the point of invention, to make human life easier. I am of the belief that too much is of anything is every good, though. Too much hardship is not good but neither is everything being too easy. Problem solving pushes intellectual growth, but it can't happen if we never solver our own problems.

Allowing humans to believe that they can stop learning to do even basic tasks (such as writing an email, learning to cite sources, etc) because 'AI can do it for you' is not helping us. This is really just more of a personal grievance and therefore does not matter. I just wanted to say it.

"What about an argument for instances where AI is more helpful than harmful?"

I would love for you to write about it and show me because unfortunately in all my research on this topic, the statistics do not lean in favour of that question. Of course there's always pros and cons to everything. Including phones, computers, the internet, etc. There are definitely instances of AI being helpful. Just not to the scale or same level of impact of all the negatives. And when the bad outweighs the good it's not something worst keeping around in my opinion.

In a perfect world, AI would take over the boring corporate tasks and stuff so that humans can enjoy life– recreation, art and music– as we were meant to. However in this capitalist world, that is not a possiblility and AI is killing joy and abolish AI and AI users DNI and I will probably not be talking about this anymore and if you want to send hate to my inbox on this don't bother because I'll block your anon and you won't get a response to feed your eristicism and you can never send anything anonymous again💙