#Computer Science Education Week

[maestrodiola]

December 7 Letter Writing Day International Civil Aviation Day Computer Science Education Week Influenza Vaccination Week

[aliengirl]

Hehehe my ssd and memory card arriveeddddd

Now is to put on my IT gurl skin and figure out how to install

[seeingivy]

casual

suguru geto x f!reader

**loosely based on casual by my beloved chappell roan

—

in the three months that you spend with suguru geto, he leaves a sour taste in your mouth and it’s not only because he tastes like black coffee. and in the two months that follow, before your deeply unfortunate circumstantial reunion, the last five words that you uttered to him, the sentiment behind them, only seems to grow. 

you can go to hell. 

and it’s all you can think when he shows up to the emergency room – a pinkish sunburn across his nose, his hair messily tied back – and eyes dripping in a concern that fills you with a rage. and it’s a deep sigh that he gives you, before reaching for your hand. 

“what happened to you, peach?” 

--

the general education class that you choose to satisfy your values and ethics inquiry is the sociology of religion. counting all the stakes – a stellar review on rate my professors, a night class at the start of the week, and minimal homework – it makes for the most ideal choice. 

“so what’s your major?” 

the downside? the midterm and final project are group assignments. and on any other occasion, you would have appreciated it – getting to split the work, taking some of the load off and sharing the work with someone, except for the fact that you didn’t know anyone in the class – and for the most part, you were expecting some half-brained idiot that would make you do all the work. 

you suppose it’s at least fair that he’s not horrible to look at. in the dimmed lights of your apartment, there’s something almost off putting about your partner, suguru geto. you count seven piercings across his ears – dangling silver pieces almost shining in the glint of the light – and the smallest rim of purple around his eyes. harsh cheekbones, a hard jaw, and wrinkles by his eyes. 

“educational studies. what’s yours?” you state. 

“computer science.” 

you hum in response, filling the two glasses with water and snatching one of the peaches from its container before taking your seat across from him, noting that he has a dimple on the left side when he smiles in response to your gesture. 

“did you want some?” you ask, holding the peach in between the two of you. 

he shakes his head, slumping against the counter in what seems an almost unnatural pose – his long limbs spreading into the space underneath your chair. you wonder if he always had an unusual way of taking up space. 

and it seems that as time goes on, he gets more and more unusual. quietly working through the portions that you split up, except for a few deep breaths here and there, though he would stop once in a while and would almost ask for approval of what he had written, waiting for some confirmation from you that it was okay with you. 

“you’re comparing adam and eve to…orpheus? i’m not really familiar with that.” you state. 

suguru nods, before turning towards you to explain. his eyes waver in the slightest as he turns over to you, his gaze flitting down to your lips, before looking back up at you. 

“you don’t have to be polite. you really can have some if you want, it’s really sweet.” you state. 

suguru smiles. 

“maybe later.” 

you shrug. 

“so orpheus…” 

“it’s a really old greek myth. orpheus and eurydice. to kind boil it down, eurydice is in the underworld with hades. and orpheus is trying to convince hades to let her return to the mortal world, with him.” 

he scoots his chair a little bit closer to you and you’re able to note one thing – that there’s a resonance in his voice, that it hums in his chest when he talks. 

“hades tells him that he’ll let him take eurydice with him, but on one condition. she has to walk behind him.” 

“that’s not that hard.” 

suguru grins. 

“isn’t it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“you’re being told by this big, all powerful god, that she’s walking behind you. but you can’t look. you wouldn’t even consider the fact that you were being fooled? that maybe she had decided not to follow?” 

“i mean, i guess. i don’t think it would really cross my mind, i…i think i’d just follow out all the way til the end because i’d kind of have faith if that’s what i was promised. and that she’d want to come with me too.”  

suguru pauses, like he’s almost taking in what you’ve said – like it’s the first time he’s heard it – and responds rather slowly. 

“you’re rather trusting, aren’t you?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“is that such a bad thing? what do you think about it?” 

suguru shrugs. 

“it was a worthless pursuit in the first place. there was no way that he wouldn’t have turned around and looked back.” 

“what do you mean?” 

“it’s simple. he loves her. if he hears something that deceives him – like the sound of her tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back. if he thinks that she isn’t there, he won’t be able to get over it and he’ll turn around.”  

you pause, mulling the thought over. and you suppose it’s true – that if you really did love something, it would be almost impossible not to check for the promise of their presence. 

“i guess. so what? she goes back to the underworld?” 

“yeah. it’s one of the most tragic love stories.” 

“i guess it’s kind of romantic. that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.” 

and in the split second that the two of you stare at each other, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, with the strong taste of coffee lingering on his lips. 

you’ve kissed three people before in your life – the boy you sat next to in the seventh grade, your date to the prom, and now suguru geto. 

the first was overwhelming. a quick locking of the lips, that at the time, made you nearly erupt into a puddle of butterflies. the second was lackluster. waxy from too much chapstick, abrupt from the fact that he was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth. 

and the third was indescribable. only because you could feel it – something lingering under his demeanor that you couldn’t exactly place. there wasn’t a word for the feeling it gave you – though there was one that was close enough. 

curiosity. about what that feeling is, about who suguru geto was, and why he felt so inclined to kiss you upon your third meeting. 

you wanted more of it. 

“you’re right, you know?” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips. 

“about being trusting?” 

he laughs. 

“no. about the peach. it really is sweet.” 

he leans back, eyes fixed on the reading in front of the two of you again, as you reach up to touch your lips, the sticky sweetness of the fruit gone from your skin. 

--

suguru comes around often after the fact. always here and there, an almost abrupt and concise text testing the waters. 

[suguru]: is your roommate home? 

[you]: nope. she’s at the district. 

[suguru]: can i keep you company?

[you]: okay! 

and he always arrives promptly twenty minutes after the fact, to the point where you wondered if he lingered around just to get there as fast as he could. and never empty handed – with dinner, dessert, or a flower that he plucked out of the cement in his hands. 

that was the thing that confused you about him. 

after the very first time you kissed, he had made one thing very clear. 

no attachments. you’re not together. 

but yet, he’d show up sometimes and do nothing but kiss your forehead and sleep in your bed next to you. or make you do something entirely mundane – like watch toy story three with a sheet of cookies in your oven – or watch you study. 

and in the two weeks you had known him, you knew better than to question. your curiosity never stopped you, but you found that you were always left with more questions than the vague answers that he gave you.  

“hey peach?” 

“yeah?” 

“your mom is calling.” 

you widen your eyes, immediately snatching the phone from him, and giving him a weary smile. and you side shuffle into the walkway between the laundry and your bedroom, pressing the phone to your ear and murmuring under your breath. 

“hi mom.” 

“hi doll. how are classes?” 

you pick at the loose thread of your sweater, nearly breaking the seams of the sleeve, noting suguru’s curious eyes – that he’s very poignantly trying to hide – from the kitchen. 

“they’re good, ma. what’s up?” 

“right. i’m so sorry to do this to you, my sweet, but i won’t be home when you get back.” 

“what?” 

“we’re going on a trip to see sheila in new york. and well, her vacation is only during those dates and we want to spend as much time with her as we can.” 

you sigh, the frustration tempering in yoru chest. 

“i already paid for the tickets. i saved up for a month trying to buy a flight back.” 

“darling, i know. i’m really sorry, but you know how it is. she just gets so stressed out that we just wanted to go out there and make her holiday nice.” 

“and what about my holiday? you don’t want me to have a nice christmas with my family?” 

you can feel it burning in your cheeks – that embarrassing feeling that’s been simmering in your chest since you were kid. a mix of an insurmountable amount of envy and dejection, from trying to vie for attention from the second that you realized you never had it. 

“don’t try to make me feel guilty.” she scolds 

“i’m not trying to make you feel guilty! i just wished you would have thought about me too.” 

you hear an irritated sigh on the end of the line, which is your first sign that you had made a mistake. because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was push your mom’s buttons. 

you wonder if it’s because she sees herself in you – and that utter hatred that she has for herself was now placed on you instead. 

“do you always have to be so curt with me?” 

“i’m not being curt, i just…” 

“maybe when i die, you’ll think back and wished that you had appreciated me more. been more understanding that i’m not just your mother, i am someone’s friend too. that i have my own life. and that at the very least, my friends like to call me here and there. acknowledge me while you do god knows what wherever you are.” 

“okay, well, i –” 

“enjoy your christmas. we’ll see you in the spring.” she states. 

there’s a static on the other end of the line and you drop your phone, staring at the dark screen in your hands for the few seconds that follow. and you must have been standing there for too long, because a few minutes later quiet footsteps accompany you in the dimly lit hallway, suguru’s head obscuring the light from the bulb. 

“hi peach.” 

“did you hear all of that?” 

“no.” he responds. 

you look up at him and glare. and he reaches forward, hands soft on your cheek wiping away the wetness that you hadn’t noticed. you’re not sure when you started crying. 

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re a liar. if you’re one thing, it’s nosy.” you respond. 

he smiles. 

“maybe when it comes to you. what happened, pretty girl?” 

you shake your head, his grabby hands coming around your waist as he presses you closer to his chest. you can hear his heart thumping against your ear, the metal of his necklace cold on your cheek, as you heave a sigh. 

“nothing.” 

“oh, come on, peach.” 

you look up at him, expectant and full brown eyes waiting for an answer, as you give in. 

“i just thought i would be going home next week for break. but i think i’m just going to stay here.” 

“because your parents are going to…” 

“see their friends in new york.” 

suguru frowns. you can’t tell if it’s pity in his eyes. 

“it’s not a big deal. i just was expecting to go home, that’s all. and it’s not that big of a deal that i’m going to stay here, the weather is nice and it’s probably frigid cold there.” 

suguru pauses. 

“you’re going to be here alone?” 

“yeah. my roommate is from the east coast.” 

“you should come home with me, for break.” 

you look up at him, eyes wide. 

“what?” 

“s’not that far from here, i usually just make the drive. there’s a nice coffee shop on the way that i always stop at for some energy. and my mom is really nice.” 

you shake your head, almost too violently. 

“i can’t just go home with you. i wouldn’t want to impose.” 

suguru pulls back, his fingers fast on the screen, as he murmurs under his breath, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“you’re not an imposition to me, peach. i can’t leave my baby here alone.” 

“sure. but to your parents, and…and staying rent free in your house.” 

suguru grins, handing over the phone to you, as you read the texts on the screen. 

[suguru]: can my friend come home with me for break? her name is y/n. 

[mom]: YES!!!!! 

[mom]: A GIRL! 

[suguru]: not like that

[suguru]: but she’s sweet 

[mom]: I’M GETTING EVERYTHING READY 

you look down at the phone, noting the sweet heart emoji that he has near her contact name, the contact photo a picture of the two of them when he was considerably younger, hugging cheek to cheek. 

“and i stay rent free in your apartment all the time.” 

“suguru, this is…weird. i can’t just come home with you, that’s…that’s too much.” 

he shakes his head. 

“it’s casual. we’re just friends, you’re just coming home with me for break so you won’t be here alone.” 

right. you’d almost be inclined to believe him – if it wasn’t for the fact that the time you spent around him, the more curious you got. 

the more that feeling festered in you, wanting to know anything and everything about him, wanting to crawl deep into his skin and memorize everything and make sense of why he was the way he was. 

“you promise?” 

“for sure.” 

--

“you’re a loser.” 

mei mei is never one to mince her words. and you’re grateful for it – because it’s something that you need when you return from your two weeks stay in long beach with suguru over the break. 

because despite the words that he told you, the ones that you didn’t really believe anyway, you come back in a worse state than you expected. 

you think you love him. 

because in the days of uninterrupted time that you spend together, you let your mind wander too far. because in the quiet moments that the two of you had – knee deep in the passenger seat outside the stupid coffee shop you stopped at, giggling in the bathroom when you went to dinner, and tangled in the bed sheets with him every night – you let yourself taste too much. 

let your mind run a little too wild. thinking about meeting his friends at the pier he showed you, of living together in an apartment in the following year. 

and the two of you teeter a dangerous line. putting each other as emergency contacts, swapping your wardrobe in between your flats, and showering together every morning – his soft hands massaging the shampoo into the roots of your hair.  

“don’t be mean.” you state. 

“i’m not being mean, i’m just saying that…” 

mei mei sighs, cheeks in her hand, with an almost irritating look in her eyes – wholeheartedly judgemental. she just didn’t get it. 

“look, he’s friends with todo. that guy i know from the finance club? and i asked around about him, apparently he loves to brag about how he gets girls off all the time. now either he’s talking about you – clearly not the way you talk about him – or he’s talking to someone else.” 

you sigh. because you can’t even put it past him. because in the months you had known him, he was impossible to understand. a futile effort to read. impossible to touch. 

“look, i’ll just ask him later.” 

and when he comes around your apartment, well after mei mei has left, he brings a slice of peach cobbler that his coworker insisted that he take home with him. 

“peach cobbler for my peach!” 

you wince. 

“that was corny. even for you.” 

“i saw an opportunity and i took it.” suguru responds, shrugging as he loops his arms around your waist, chin resting against the top of your head as he eyes the pot of boiling ramen on your stove. 

and you bite the bullet as fast as you can. 

“do you see other girls?” you ask. 

“huh?” 

you swallow hard, dry patch in your throat, as you feel the sweat tickling the top of your forehead. it’s from the heat of the stove. 

“do you see other girls? or guys?”

“no. do you?” 

you shake your head. and you’re unsure how to word the next question – because there was something humiliating, too bare about having to admit that you want more to him – when things were so sweet as they were. 

perhaps you should have known better. coffee was always bitter at the end. 

“why do you ask?”

you shrug. 

“dunno. was just thinking about us. and how we spent break together and all that.” 

suguru presses a kiss to your hairline. 

“yeah? did you have fun?” 

you hum in response. 

“yeah. i really liked the city. and your mom and your sister. it was really sweet of you to take me.” 

you pause, wincing as you decide to be as blunt as possible. 

“and i like you.” 

he laughs. 

“well, i like you too.” 

“no, no, i like you. well, i more than like you, but i…i can’t say those words.” 

there’s a silence. and his arms feel like loose limp noodles around you. and you realize now, that you made the wrong choice. you turn around, only to find hollow brown eyes staring at you, the makings of a frown on his face. 

“suguru?” 

he winces. 

“i can’t.” he whispers. 

“why not?” 

and you’re not sure what it is, but it throws him into a panic. with his facial features scrunched up, eyes hollow, and nervous hands running through his hair. 

“i just can’t.” 

you cross your hands over your chest, the bitter contempt of rejection blooming in your chest, as you look down, picking at the scab on the inside of your palms as you ask again. 

“i said i didn’t want any attachments.” he adds. 

“i know. but can you blame me for being confused? you took me home to see your family.” 

“as a friend.” 

“you didn’t act like my friend while we were there.” 

suguru groans. 

“and that’s my fault, i know that but –” 

that one stings. admitting that he regrets it. 

“okay, well. that’s alright. maybe you should leave now, then.” you state. 

“wait peach, no. i don’t want to leave, i just..” 

you scoff. 

“you don’t want to leave?” 

“no?” 

it comes out meek, almost timid when he utters it. a question. like he can’t even admit it fully – that he wants to stay. and it fills you with anger, searing red hot anger on the heels of being cast aside so nonchalantly, that it comes to a head then and there. 

“do you really think so little of me?” 

“what? 

“i’m not good enough to be your girlfriend. but whatever else you want, that’s fine. i…i thought you thought of me better than some girl you just fuck around with.” 

suguru sighs. 

“you’re not some girl i just fuck around with.” 

“am i not, though?” 

suguru shuts his eyes, the look on his face is so pained – so miserable – that it irritates you. 

“you’ve made it abundantly clear. that you like me a decent amount, but not enough to care about whether or not you’ll lose me.” 

you bite down so hard on your lip that the taste of metallic blood fills your mouth, coupled with warm tears in your eyes. 

“and for that, you can go to hell.” 

--

“what happened to you, peach?” 

you scoff, curling your nose at the old nickname, as he yanks the closest stool – his legs still too long to even be comfortable on the thing as he leans forward, noting the dried blood on your forehead. 

“a car accident. you can leave now.” 

suguru frowns, almost resembling a kicked dog, as he shakes his head. there’s something softer about his expressions now – something you’re sure is a byproduct of the time you spent apart or the fact that you have a broken rib – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“i can’t just leave.” he whispers. 

“and why not?” 

suguru shakes his head. 

“you have a broken rib. and a deep cut on your forehead. forgive me if i’m concerned about you.” 

“i can’t. knowing you, you’ll casually linger around here for a few days, and when you figure it’s appropriate to leave, you’ll be gone with the wind.” 

the two of you sit there in silence, the harshness of the words hanging in the air between the two of you. 

and yet again, suguru geto leaves you with a never ending pit of curiosity. about what he was doing here, to ask how he is – to make it a note to him that his cheeks look fuller, that his eyes aren’t rimmed red anymore, and that he looks good. 

that you like the new hairstyle. that it killed you when he wasn’t around anymore. that you still want him to go to hell. 

suguru twists the silver ring on his pointer finger a few times – a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth – before you break the silence, your curiosity getting the best of you another time. 

“why are you here?” 

“they called me. i’m your emergency contact still.” 

“no, i gathered that. why are you here?” 

suguru pauses, swallowing hard before responding. 

“if orpheus hears something that deceives him – like the sound of eurydice tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back.” suguru states. 

you scoff. vague again. 

“right.” 

“no, really. i got the call. and i didn’t think and just showed up. i just…just had to see you.” suguru states. 

he pauses. 

“it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

you turn to glare at him, at the audacity of him repeating your own stupid words back to you. 

“is it? because his carelessness left her in hell with hades.” 

suguru scoffs. 

“i never did tell you the end of the story, did i?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“orpheus becomes so distraught that he uses his lyre to charm death – just so that he can return to the underworld to be with her. and people debate how it happens, him being ripped apart by irate women or getting killed by the menades, but it does happen. he dies and goes to the underworld. and in some versions, people think that he reunites with her in the underworld. and she forgives him.” 

“and why would she do that?” you ask. 

“because he tried his best to do right by her. he was asked to do one thing – to stay away. and that’s what he did, because…because i know you’re right. because you do deserve better, i do think the world of you and think you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, the way that you want.” 

suguru pauses. 

“it’s not my fault that i can’t help but look back. i can’t do anything about the fact that i love you.” 

you swallow hard, an embarrassing amount of regret – mixed in with that deep longing that he left in your chest – searing through you. 

“in the casual way, right?” you respond, sarcastically. 

he groans. 

“it’s not casual at all. it wasn’t casual when i leaned forward to taste the sweetness of the peach on your lips – especially when i fucking hate peaches. and it wasn’t casual when i took you home with me, it was…i just couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. and it’s not fucking casual that i drove three hours when i was supposed to be home this weekend just because i the thought of you sitting in this room alone, in pain, was driving me crazy.” 

you wince, turning to look at him. and it seems that in the mere acknowledgement of his presence by locking his eyes, it seems to fill him with something – something that puts the whisper of a smile on his face. 

“what?” 

“i turned around for you. i didn’t know i would, but now that i have, i…i realize that i probably always would have.” 

“okay?” you whisper. 

“are you going to forgive me for it? not doing it earlier, for…for not getting it right the first time?” he asks. 

you pause, mulling the thought over. and the silence, he takes it as an invitation to plead his case. 

“i’ll beg. i’ll get on my hands and knees if that’ll do something to make it better.” 

you turn to look at him. 

“you…you’re special. i haven’t forgotten about you and…and i know we had something. just let me fix it? i’ll get you a hundred gifts, i’ll tell you a hundred times and i’ll - oh!’ 

he reaches into his bag, shoving his arms into the depths of the pockets, before yanking out a little napkin and reaching forward, opening your hand and placing it in your palm. 

“a tissue?”

“open it.” 

and you oblige, unfolding the tissue to see four little gummy peach rings in the napkin, before turning back to him. 

“peach rings?” 

“for my peach! i eat them all the time now, even though i fucking hate peaches. i only had a few left so i grabbed what i had left when i ran out. and i ate some on the way on accident because i was nervous, worried about you and all..” 

you look down, the sugary crystals on the candy almost sparking in the light, as you look back at him. and he's wholeheartedly different - not the cool, cold guy you left behind, but a weird mess of awkwardness and jitters, and maybe even the tiniest hint of desperation.

he seems wholeheartedly more touchable this way.

“you make no sense.” you state.

suguru frowns. 

“i know. but i’m trying.” he responds. 

and you sigh, wiping your hands at your side, before eating one of the candies. bitter at first, but sweet at the end. 

“suppose that’s my problem then. i’ll have to figure you out.” you respond. 

suguru’s face splits into a smile, his motions so eager as he leans over the railing of the bed, the angle entirely off as he leans forward to kiss you. and it’s entirely different from every other time you’ve kissed him – full and whole, a warm and tender promise behind it. 

“you’re wrong, you know?” you whisper. 

“about what?” he murmurs. 

“the peaches. they taste good.” 

he laughs. 

“is that right?” he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, as he wavers his eyes up again, to the cut on your forehead. 

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bandages, before pulling back, lips lingering over yours. 

“i think i need one more to decide.”

--

an: idk.

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[thempregsimmer]

Since the genetic mutation allowing men to get pregnant has spread across Europe, doctors across the continent started to deal with a new wave of patients - pregnant male university students.

As I’m born and raised in Poland, let me introduce you to the two young guys, who recently visited the paternity clinic specialised in male pregnancy in Warsaw.

Let me introduce you to two young patients of the clinic:

The young hunk under dr. Achebe is named Sebastian. He was born and raised in Warsaw, he plays in his private university’s basketball team. He’s a closeted gay from a conservative family. One of the parties he attended ended with unprotected sex, which has lead him to this situation. With a growing bump, there is no more denying his sexual orientation, Sebastian is having a hard time accepting the reality.

On a more positive note, his baby is developing well, and there is no risk of complications. He’s 26 weeks along with his baby boy.

The shy guy under prof. Szczepański is named Jakub. He moved to Warsaw to study computer science. His concerned face reflects how worried he is for his little one’s wellbeing. Although the pregnancy wasn’t planned, he has accepted the new path of life that was laid in front of him. However, it doesn’t mean he will postpone getting his education - he actually managed to secure a very prestigious grant for his research on processor, which he plans to finish before the birth of his son.

He has an amazing safety net, in form of his slightly order boyfriend - Grzegorz, as well as his parents back in his hometown. It was actually Grzegorz, who works as a team manager in one of the biggest polish corporations, who managed to get his pregnant boyfriend under prof. Szczepański, one of the pioneers in the male prenatal care.

Jakub is 24 weeks pregnant, although he looks a bit further along based on the size of his bump. He needs to work with a bigger amount of amniotic fluid, however the professor is certain this won’t cause complications other than slightly bigger baby bump.

I wish those boys a safe pregnancy and a smooth delivery. Although male pregnancy has become widely noticeable in the polish society throughout the last few years, it still comes with stigma connected to same sex relationships. However, with the more liberal government in power right now, the situation is shifting. Additionally, conservatives who fought for penalising abortion, are slowly adapting to the new reality, and started adjusting their „pro life” narrative to include pregnant men as well.

[a-shade-of-blue]

New Gaza fundraiser asks I've received (29 August)

Eman (@2hemaa, @1hema): Eman is a high school student. Her home has been destroyed. She and her family of 7 has been displaced at least 6 times. They are trying to evacuate to Egypt. (https://gofund.me/20a225c5) (shared by 90-ghost)

Muhammad Abu Hamam (@ma7moudgaza2): Muhammad is 27 years old. He was saving money for marriage but the current war has destroyed his source of income and now he has no money. They need money to sustain their daily lives and buy a tent for the family to live in. (https://gofund.me/31bb402a) (vetted by el-shab-hussein) 

Salah Ahmed Mohammed Alshareef (@salahahmed90, @manarsalahfamily): Salah and his wife Manar have 2 children: Youssef (12) and Nour (7). They have been displaced several times. Nour has only started school for 2 weeks before her school was destroyed. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/32a4669a) (vetted by 90-ghost) 

Farah (@nada55, @farahh2003): Farah is 20 years old. She dreams of returning to uni to finish her computer science degree. She and her family have been displaced for 7 times. The occupation is bombing areas near where they are staying. Food is expensive and her family has to pay rent on the land their tent is on. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/3523e2a7) (#310 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi, vetted by apollos-olives)

Mohammed & Sohaib Asfour (@mohammedabasan): Mohammed is a nursing student, his second brother was studying medicine, and another of his brother was studying law. Their education was interrupted by the genocide as schools and universities are destroyed. Two of his brothers, Ahmed and Hamza, are children dreaming to become doctors. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/af0ea2f5) (shared by 90-ghost) 

Samer Abu Ras (@samerpal): Samer and his wife Shorouq have 3 children, the youngest of which is not even two years old yet. Their oldest son Qusay has had heart problems since birth and urgently needs surgeries and treatments. They are seeking funds to evacuate to a safe place and for Qusay to continue his treatment. (https://gofund.me/e4bf9364) (#196 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi)

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 13 July - 25 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 26 July -29 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 30 July - 1 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 2 August - 5 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 6 August - 10 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 11 August - 14 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 15 August - 18 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 19 August - 21 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 22 August - 24 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 25 August - 28 August

How does vetting and verification work? See post here. (also read comments regarding 90-ghost and why we trust the campaigns he has shared)

Click here for my Google Doc with my complete masterlist of all the Palestinian gfm asks I've received, updated daily (along with other verified ways to send aid to Gaza). (I originally compiled it so it is easier for me to answer asks, but since I'm sharing it on my personal IG I might as well share it here too)

See post here for other verified ways to send aid to Gaza.

Don't forget your Daily Clicks on Arab.org, it's free!!! and Every click made is registered in their system and generates donation from sponsors/advertisers.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Find Your Way Back Home: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: smut, virgin!reader, oral fem!receiving, age-gap romance, angst

Summary: Dean purposely kept you out of the hunting game so you could focus on school and getting your degree. You still help out wherever you can, and that includes being there for Dean in his personal life as much as you can in his hunting life.

Author’s Note: This is the second part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is twenty-six, the reader is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-four.

x

You stare out your dorm window in thought. You haven’t heard from Sam or Dean in a week. Are they alive? Did some monster finally catch up to them and kill them? Are they purposely ignoring you? You’ve been a steady force in their lives since you took down your first vampire eight years ago even if you weren't hunting with them together.

Whenever they would be in town, they’d hit you up and ask you to come along with them. John was with them for a few years until Dean and Sam got old enough to take care of themselves. Then it became only you three, which you preferred. You never liked how John treated his sons when he was with them.

Every time they packed up to leave for the next town, you begged them to take you with them. Dean didn’t want to deprive you of getting an education since you weren't born into the life like they were, so he convinced you to stay in your group home and in school. You studied hard to pass your classes while studying the monster world. The local library had more books on monsters than you thought, so you spent a lot of your time there. On days you weren't studying, you were in that same park practicing shooting and honing your fighting skills against trees.

Sam became impressed with your progress but it wasn’t his approval you were seeking. It was Dean’s. At fourteen when all your friends were experiencing romantic thoughts for the boys in your grade for the first time, you were experiencing them for Dean. He was twenty-two and so much older than you but you couldn’t help but have a major crush on him. Was it wrong to want his touch at such a young age?

He never did anything with you, of course, and you never pushed the idea. You just settled on fantasizing about him and rejecting any boy that came your way in high school. While all your friends were getting their firsts--kisses, losing their virginities, going on dates--you were at home wishing you were doing that with Dean. 

By the time you were sixteen, you touched yourself to the thought of Dean for the first time. By the time you were eighteen, you were planning on taking those fantasies to the next level. You’re an adult now and fully capable of going after what and who you want.

The birds outside your window chirp happily pulling you from your thoughts. You really need to get your homework done if you want to pass this class. Not only did Dean encourage you to stay in school, he encouraged you to go to college. Fighting and breaking into places was cool for a while until you got a taste of technology. Hacking and making code became a passion of yours so your major is in Computer Science. You’re only a Freshman but you’re passionate enough to complete your degree.

Your phone rings and seeing his name pop up on your phone distracts you from your responsibilities. A blush starts to creep up your neck, your heart flutters, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s twenty-six and you’re eighteen. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to break your heart, but you’ve always been a live-in-the-moment kind of girl.

“Hi, Dean,” you smile when you pick it up.

“What are you doing?”

His voice sounds rough like he’s trying to suppress his emotions. He’s always been very good at that.

“Homework.”

“Open your window.” There is no screen on your window since your roommate almost fell through it trying to jump on your bed when she got drunk. You haven’t had the heart to tell your RA about it. You open your window and look down at the ground to see Dean standing there looking up at you. Damn, he looks pissed. “Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

Thank God your roommate isn’t home right now. You run down to the first floor to let Dean in. Only residents of the building are accessed to key cards that get inside the building. It helps with random people trying to come in whenever they want. It’s mostly for the creeps trying to follow home a bunch of college girls.

Dean doesn’t say anything to you on the journey back to your dorm. He’s never been here before, and you’re suddenly conscious of the random items everywhere. If you had known he was coming, you��d have cleaned a little bit. Dean walks into your bedroom and chuckles at the splashes of color everywhere. Pillows of different colors, the pink on your walls, a few posters on the wall, and nothing like he’d expect.

“Cute room,” he finally says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not doing too well, sweetheart.” You wait for him to continue. “Sam’s going off to college. Stanford.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

Dean snaps his head to you and glares angrily. You’re not sure if he’s angry at himself, Sam, or you.

“He’s fucking leave the family like I don’t fucking matter.”

He sits on the edge of your bed so you take a seat next to him.

“I’m sure that’s not true at all.” You’ve been with them long enough to know that Sam has always butted heads with John. Dean obeys him without a second though but Sam is the rebellious one. “Maybe he wants more than the life your dad forced him into.”

“It’s always been just me and him. It’s always been about putting Sammy first. Now he wants to leave as if everything I’ve done for him doesn’t matter.”

“You do matter,” you whisper. “He knows what you’ve done for him. Him going away to college doesn’t change that.”

Dean looks at you and you get lost in his green irises.

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. I can see both points.”

Dean sighs. “Who do I have without him?”

“You have me.” Dean shakes his head but you keep him from going anywhere. “I’m serious. All of my classes are online. I could go with you if you want. I don’t have to live here.”

Dean looks back at you and subconsciously glances down at your lips. You part your lips and lick your lower lip and he follows the movements with his eyes. He remembers a conversation he had with you a year ago when you were venting to him about relationships.

“Still haven’t had your first kiss?” You shake your head. “Do you want to?”

His voice is laced with desire. This is it. This is the moment you’ve been after since you’ve had romantic feelings for Dean. Why are you so fucking scared? You nod twice before you can talk yourself out of it, and he looks back into your eyes. Dean leans into you slowly to give you time to back up if you don’t want this and when you don’t, he presses his lips against yours.

You’re afraid that your heart is going to jump out of your chest from how hard it’s beating. Despite the many, many videos you’ve watched on anything sexual, nothing compares to living in the moment. You barely have a chance to kiss back when Dean pulls away.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move from you. “What for?”

“I’m not very good at this.”

“I’ll teach you,” he smiles.

With more confidence, Dean leans in again. He presses his lips more firmly to yours and grabs the underside of your jaw. He moves your head to the side to control the kiss, a kiss which you’re melting in. You’ve never felt anything like this so you trust Dean to lead you exactly how he wants you.

He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip which makes you part your own, and he slowly slides his tongue into your mouth. Damn, he is really good at this. He sends butterflies swarming in your stomach and a spark of pleasure straight down to your pussy. Dean shifts on the bed and gently lays you down so he can crawl over you. He presses light kisses down your neck as his hands start to roam your body.

You’re wearing a loose shirt which makes it easier for him to slide his hand underneath your shirt. Your breath hitches at the thought of his hand on your breasts, pulling at your nipples until they are perky and hard.

“Is this okay?” he whispers as his hand ghosts your ribs. 

You’re not wearing a bra so he is just shy of touching your breasts. You’re nervous but you welcome the new feelings.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

He kisses your neck a bit more and slides his hand over your breast. He takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolls it until it becomes hard. You gasp and throw your head back from the slight pleasure. You’ve played with your boobs before but having someone else do it, someone you have a major crush on is something completely different.

Dean lifts your shirt up and removes it so that the only thing you’re wearing is pajama shorts. You decided against underwear because you had no plans on leaving your dorm room. If you knew Dean was coming over, you’d have put on something sexier. Dean kisses down your chest and stops to pull a hardened nipple in his mouth. Damn, so that’s what that feels like. To have a wet muscle lap at something that’s already sensitive.

He doesn’t stop there. He releases your right nipple with a pop and places open kisses on your stomach. He doesn’t want to do anything you might be uncomfortable with so he stops right above the waistband of your shorts.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“No? You want me to eat this pretty pussy?”

“Fuck.” He has such a filthy mouth. “Yes, please, Dean.”

Dean smirks and hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls your shorts down and off your body. He grabs your thighs and spreads your legs so that your pussy is bare to him. Dean leans in and kisses your inner thigh to tease you. The anticipation is making you wetter than it should. You’ve fucked yourself before with your fingers and toys but never have you had someone so close to your most intimate parts.

Dean closes his mouth over your sensitive clit and sucks. Your hips buck against his mouth as you let out a sinful moan. His tongue hooks around your clit, and your hands grab fistfuls of his hair. He licks down to your slit and slides his tongue through your folds, and you arch your back off the bed.

“Fuck, Dean! Right there!” you gasp and tug on his hair to pull him closer to you.

He slides half his tongue into your aching core only to lick back to your clit. He massages your thighs before his right hand runs over your slit. He pushes a single finger into you and grunts when he feels how tight you are. His cock is straining against his jeans but he ignores that for now.

When he feels you get a bit wetter, he slides in another finger and curls them so the pads of his fingers touch that sensitive spot inside. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge with each thrust of his fingers and each lick of his tongue.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you gasp.

“Then come.”

With his permission, you tip over the edge and explode all over his mouth. He removes his fingers and laps up every drop you’re willing to give him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you taste amazing.” 

He kisses up your body until he reaches your lips. Both of you don’t care that your taste is on his lips. He kisses you feverishly, eager to sink himself inside you.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask.

Dean moves off you and digs one out of his pants pocket. He never leaves the house without one. He’s single and loves to mingle so why not always carry one with him?

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Please fuck me.”

Dean sheds every layer until he is as bare as you, and you can’t help but look at the sheer size of him. Is he going to fit? He rolls the condom over his cock and pumps it twice to get himself ready.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

Dean lays over you and grabs your left knee. He hikes it up so he has enough room to slide inside you. He rubs the tip of his cock over your throbbing cit and you gasp at the pleasure it sends through your body. He pushes in a few inches and that’s enough to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He goes slow and allows you to adjust to him before sliding in a few more inches. The burn of stretching hurts but you tell yourself it’s only for a few minutes. It only takes one. Once Dean seats himself fully inside you, he gives you time to adjust to him. He’s never felt anyone so tight, so perfect for him. You wrap around him like a warm blanket on a cold day. How is he ever going to be able to leave?

“Okay, you can move,” you nod.

Dean starts slow to get you used to him but when he hears your eager moans, he goes faster. He grips your hips and sets a nice tempo that makes your heart lurch into your throat. This is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. Dean has been the main subject of your fantasies for years now and it’s finally happening.

“Damn, sweetheart, you feel so perfect around me.”

“You feel so good!” you moan. You’re embarrassed to say that you’re closer to your second orgasm than the first one, but Dean’s okay with it because he’s chasing that same high at the same time. “Shit, I’m gonna come!”

“Yeah? Come for me. Come around my cock.”

Dean reaches down and rubs your clit in hard circles to help you over the edge. White-hot pleasure shoots from your core to the rest of your body as you come around him. He shoots his load into the condom and groans in pleasure. He rides out the high before pulling out, and he flops right next to you on the bed.

To prevent the condom from sticking to his ski, he peels it off and throws it into the small trashcan next to your bed. You roll over to face him and he gives you a lazy smile.

“Damn, you really know your stuff.”

“I’ve had practice,” he chuckles.

You scan the features on his face before snuggling closer to him.

“Will you stay with me? My roommate won’t be home all week.”

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Why not? Sam got out. He went to college. This could be your chance to get out of the life. It’s time to start your own.”

Dean has to be honest. He has thought about dropping everything and starting a new life somewhere. He’s seen the desirability of an apple pie life. He looks at you and sees that opportunity in your eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Promise?” you whisper.

“I promise.”

You two go to bed together peacefully. However, when you wake up, he’s not next to you. In fact, he’s not anywhere in your dorm. He left and didn’t leave a note behind explaining why he wanted to break his promise. You curl into a ball in bed, unsure how to feel.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I realise you're HE, but any thoughts on how high school level education should be run/changed/etc? I'd love to know your views!

Oh sure, plenty, but they're not particularly informed lol

Well; Wales is actually massively and fundamentally changing secondary education atm, but we won't be getting students from it until the year after next, I think, so no real comment on effectiveness yet - but it's very interesting. They're getting rid of isolated subjects in favour of broad umbrella areas, as I understand it? So there's now Science and Technology (Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Computing, and all the various DT subjects like Woodwork, Electronics, Cookery, etc), Maths and Numeracy, Humanities (History, Geography, Ethics, Religion), Languages Literacy and Communication, and Health and Wellbeing (actually maybe Cookery comes under this one now? Dunno.) And there's a sixth to do with arts but I can't remember what it's called. But it includes Art, Drama, Media Studies, etc.

And then the idea is that a class will learn about a given topic at a time (I don't know for how long, so let's say six weeks), and this will be taught in each of those six umbrellas but via their own methods. So like... I dunno, let's say the Tudors:

That's fairly straightforward for Humanities, but in addition to giving you the historical facts you'd also explore historic trade routes and natural resources of the time and how they related to the politics (geography), the religious make up of the country and how THAT related to the politics (religion), etc.

Maths and Numeracy might explore how to use statistics to analyse Tudor era population or trade data.

Science and Tech could look at disease outbreaks and virology, or technological advancements and how they worked and get students to build one, or get students to construct a Tudor-era town using computer software

Languages can study plays from the era (Shakespeare), look at linguistic development, or use historical events as talking points to practice using vocab in conversations

Health and Wellbeing can explore stressors and challenges of the average Medieval peasant and how they overcame them, or play some popular Tudor sport or game, or make food to Tudor recipes, etc

The Arts one (god I cannot remember the name) can look at art history of the period, fashions, perform plays, etc

So everyone is still teaching the skills and knowledge of their subject areas, they're just united by one big case study. It apparently allows for far more integrated teaching, too, where two previously discrete subjects can join forces on a project.

All of which seems pretty good, on the whole, but also rife with issues if everyone isn't careful, so we'll see how it shakes out over the next few years.

From my own experiences of school though. Jesus. Something definitely needed to happen, fuck me.

What I should have learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine

How to sew by hand to mend a tear

How to darn a hole

How to hem, dart, take in, and let out clothes

How to sew from a pattern

What I actually learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine on its most basic setting

How to phone in creating a hand puppet out of felt because gluing was easier than sewing

How to badly sew an extremely makeshift and shit bag out of scrap fabric that you in no way want to then use

How to lose all interest in Textiles because it was useless and uninteresting

Like that is a VITAL skillset-imparting subject, and they fucked it, lads, they completely fucked it. Why did they never set us the task of buying a cheap shirt from a charity shop that we then amended in class? That would have been so useful.

Games and PE! Fucking hell! Here's what I should have learned:

How to stretch my body safely to target specific muscle groups, and in particular, how to cultivate a daily stretching routine I enjoyed and wanted to do

How to find a physical activity active enough to get me out of breath that I genuinely enjoyed, so that I wanted to continue it, e.g. salsa dancing or rope climbing or ice skating or hill climbing or assault courses or fucking anything at all

How to build my body up to doing particular activities safely and sustainably

How to find a physical activity to do on wet, cold, rainy days that would still be fun and I would still enjoy

Here's what I actually learned:

Physical activity is always uncomfortable and miserable and sometimes even painful

If you aren't enjoying running around in the wind and rain instead of the indoor gym The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

Wanting to stay warm and dry and comfortable is a punishable choice.

You are only permitted to do physical activity in clothes that make you feel profoundly exposed and uncomfortable (a gym skirt and gym knickers in my school. Cycling shorts got you detention. Don't get me started on jogging bottoms.) Again, if you do not enjoy this, The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

There are only three activity options. If you don't enjoy any of them, physical activity is not for you.

You should be able to Just Do physical exercise, without any training to build you up to it. If you can't and it hurts, this is because you're Bad At PE.

You will only be shown Once

Physical activity is only ever a team sport that you aren't good enough to be willingly picked for

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And you know what, LET'S round off with Food Technology/Cookery. Because I remember the things I was asked to make in FT. As a little baby Year 7, I still vividly remember two of the things we made.

Angel Delight. Easy, you might say! A simple treat, you might think! Easing the children into food prep, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was healthy eating, and so we were to add fruit to our Angel Delight. Any flavour Angel Delight, any fruit. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have encountered fruit, Tumblrs, but it famously has faintly acidic juice. This will prevent the Angel Delight from setting within the one hour lesson, no matter how well you mixed the pudding, or how quickly you got it into the fridge. It will result in soggy gross lumps of oxidising fruit in sloppy liquid pudding. Lesson learned: fruit makes food worse.

Cake. Easyish, you might say! A little harder than the Angel Delight but good training, you might think! A fairly straightforward process with a child-friendly food at the end, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was still healthy eating, so the teachers made it into an experiment; make four small cakes. One with sugar, one with sweetener, one with apple, and one with carrot. Then taste them and rank them in order. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have ever tried eating sugarless carrot cake, Tumblrs, but I have, and I can tell you categorically that it really puts the "Did you know" into the phrase "Did you know that fructose and sucrose are not actually equivalents of each other in a culinary setting?" It was rancid. It was disgusting. It was vile. It made me hate carrot cake for the next 12 years, in case my mouth had to go through that ordeal again. I'm still highly suspicious of the stuff even now. To (I assume) the surprise of fuck-damned no one, we unanimously put them in the order of sugar, sweetener, apple, carrot. Lesson learned: FRUIT MAKES FOOD WORSE AND CARROTS ARE ACTIVELY DISGUSTING

What possessed them?! No idea. Fucking hell.

Anyway this is getting long and I am still ill-informed. Peace out.

[hhbluedynamite]

TADC Headcanon/Theoryish: How Long was Everyone in the Game?

Just something I was thinking about. Now...I think this can still apply to the theory that years in the game could be minutes in the real world. I don't subscribe to the theory, but feel free to use this for your own thoughts. Because...really, even if time works differently in the game, all that matters is that the characters still experienced the time lapse.

Any hoodles, onwards!

(Disclaimer: Pomni won't be included because it is canonical that she's been in the game for three days; maybe less than a week if some time have passed between Ep2 and Ep3)

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

Before we get to the nitty-gritty, lets first familiar ourselves who was in the game the longest to shortest (translation: who was able to keep going without Abstracting) plus current age since both can help gauging.

Kinger: 48 (First and Longest Surviving Member)

Ragatha: 30 (Second Longest Surviving Member; Note she's not the second to be stuck in the game)

Jax: 22

Gangle: 26 (It was Jax who gave her the name)

Zooble: 22 1/2 (Aside from Pomni, they spent the shortest amount of time)

Okay, with that out of the way, let's begin.

Kinger: At least 20 years, 23 at max when considering his seven year education in computer science. (which could fall in line with the idea that the game was made/came into existence in the 1990s/2000s)

Ragatha: 10 years, give or take

Jax: At least 5 years, maybe 7 (So, that would mean that he was a high schooler when he got sucked in. He gave me punk kid/juvenile delinquent vibes)

Gangle: I wanna say she came around about a year or two later after Jax.

Zooble: Less than a year. Their mannerisms during the therapy session gave me vibes of someone who wasn't a newbie, but not entirely integrated into their new environment.

I also wanted to add that, including Queenie and Kaufmo, there were at least 11 other players (so...possibly more), all of which had Abstracted. I won't attempt to guess the others since we don't know anything except for the only named two.

Queenie: She's at least one of the earliest victims. I wanna wager she was the second to be sucked in along with Kinger. As for when she Abstracted...I wanna say maybe a few years after getting sucked in. Maybe after witnessing others Abstracting.

Kaufmo: I wanna place his arrival between Ragatha and Jax, if not after Jax. Everyone (including Jax) was affected by Kaufmo's Abstraction, surprised that it happened. Maybe he was the longest lasting member (aside from Kinger) to have not Abstracted. Of course, it could be that they have assumed that Kaufmo was less likely to Abstract because of his personality (you know what they say about people who smile the most). Or both.

[factorydefaultlu]

Here me out.

Modern College AU for Fallout 2024

Cooper is a retired actor turned professor (I imagine he teaches acting and script writing classes) he swore to himself up and down that he would never get involved with one of his students but Lucy is slowly whittling that rule of his down, one day at a time.

Lucy is there to get a degree in education and minoring in political science. She took Cooper's class because her and her dad are huge fans and totally not because she wants to just be able to sit and stare at a pretty face for an hour a few times a week

Max is doing general studies. He's not quite sure what he wants to do, he's bounced from diesel mechanics and engineering to librarian sciences and botany. He accidentally enters the wrong class one day (Cooper's class) and sees Lucy and then decides he has to switch classes immediately. He wants to get to know Lucy better and they hit it off right away. He isn't super into the course subject, but it's decently easy and he gets to hang out with Lucy so he doesn't mind it.

Dane is in the same boat as Max. They don't know what they want to do, but they feel less alone because of Max. They notice that Max changed one of his classes and follows him one day, now Dane is attending the class twice a week along with Max and Lucy. They share a dorm with Max.

Norm would honestly drop out if it wasn't for the pressure his father is putting on him. He's in his first year of college and is already over it. He decided on computer science and although he's good at it, he's also bored with it. Thinks it's funny how Lucy is taking Cooper Howard's class and can see her teacher crush a mile away.

[sloth-babied]

Pleasant Distraction

Shuri x POC reader

Summary: You attempt to study, but Shuri's undying need for your attention gets in the way.

Contains: Just self-indulgent smut (18+). Clitoral stimulation, vaginal fingering, and overstimulation.

Word count: 1298

You sit on your bed with a laptop on your lap, working on homework as usual. Your time was constantly consumed by college, particularly by class readings. Shuri often insisted she could help you…help you cheat. Obviously this was for her benefit. 

Shuri sits right beside you, laying her arm on the pillows behind you. She looks at your computer screen. “Homework again?”

You lightly laugh before turning to peck her cheek. “Every week, Shuri.”

“Education is a curse,” she mutters.

You face your laptop. “Says the smartest girl in the world.”

“Point taken.”

Shuri leans back against the headboard, watching you read. “What class is this for?”

“Anthropology,” you respond.

“And you like it?”

You shrug. “I mean, yeah, it’s pretty interesting. Culture and what-not. The science part trips me up though.”

“I can help you with that,” she leans her head on your shoulder.

“Sure, maybe after I finish the reading.”

Your attention remains on the screen, which Shuri doesn’t appreciate. This has happened numerous times before. She’ll pester you with questions, hoping you’ll indulge her, until you tell her, “Shuri, I love you, but I really need to focus.” 

You hate seeing her disappointed. She works a lot in her lab in Wakanda, and when she finds time to visit you, you’re drowned with school work. 

There’s absolutely no doubt that you would rather drop this to spend time with your girlfriend, but you can’t. Despite what Shuri sometimes believes is a distraction, she understands…for the most part. There are classes you’re passionate about, and she enjoys hearing you speak about it, even if she’s perfectly knowledgeable in each subject. 

Shuri thinks to herself, refraining from repeating her weekly rejection, however her silence–something you should appreciate–feels suspicious. You know the pattern. But today no one follows it. 

You can admit you like the light banter between the two of you when she tries to get your attention. It’s cute. She’s cute. She’s always cute. 

Nonetheless you go on with your reading, until her presence becomes difficult to ignore. The hand behind you starts stroking your upper arm. You attempt to digest each word, except now every one of them turn to gibberish when Shuri slides your short sleeve up, kissing your now-bare shoulder.

She’s always been affectionate. Yeah, this is fine, you convince yourself. Nothing crazy.

Things start drifting away from “fine” when her other hand sneaks onto your lap, dragging lines up and down your thigh. You deeply inhale at the contact, trying to ignore her even when your face grows hot. God, you hate the effect she has on you sometimes. 

You continue to ignore her when her fingers travel to your inner thigh, so close to your clothed-pussy. Another deep breath. 

You blink excessively, refusing to reveal the way your body is happily responding to her. She runs her middle finger up and down your folds.

“Shuri.”

She doesn’t respond, but she does pull her hand away, although she has no intentions of stopping. She adjusts herself so that you’re sat between her legs.

“Shuri,” you repeat.

She hums, feigning an innocence that you know damn well isn't there, smooching your temple while reaching for your waistband.

“I’m trying to focus.” Yet you’re doing nothing to stop her, and she's very aware of that.

“Keep focusing then,” she murmurs breathily, returning her lips to your neck, kissing the spot right below your earlobe. Christ.

Her hand slithers beneath both your pants and underwear, landing at your clitoris. And yes, you should tell her to stop. But fuck, you just can’t. She knows the hold she has on you and she loves taking advantage of it. 

She nips at your ear, circling your clit. You still haven’t opened your legs yet. Instead they squirm under the heat of your laptop. Shuri’s other hand reaches for your breast over your shirt, squeezing as her other hand circles faster with more pressure.

“Jesus!” Your knee pulls up unintentionally and your laptop almost slides off your lap. You catch it before it does. “Shuri,” you attempt to scold her, but it comes out as a moan. 

She chuckles, closing the laptop.

You try to open it back up, but she adamantly shuts it again.

“You’re not even reading,” she mumbles against your jaw, pushing the laptop off of you. “Stop acting like you are.”

The back of your head falls on her shoulder and your jaw falls open when the burning-like sensation grows as she rubs rapidly on your clit. Her circular motions cease once she settles on moving side-to-side. Your hips lift, legs spread, and your hand reaches back, holding the side of her neck.

Shuri’s fingers slip from your wetness.

“Still want me to stop?” She disconnects from you, rubbing her wet fingers against each other instead. “I mean, I can stop, but it seems like you don’t want me to.”

She knows what she’s doing, and now you’re frustrated. Sighing, you accept your defeat, shoving your pants off with your feet. “Can you please just…” you trail off.

“Please what? Want me to keep touching you? Or is anthropology more interesting than me?”

Oh, what a fucking brat.

“Please,” you take her wrist and push her back to your pussy. “Please, Shuri.”

“Okay, my love,” she snickers, sliding below your clit, roaming through your folds until she enters her middle and ring finger inside you. “As you wish.”

Bast, she enjoys having you like this. Legs spread just for her. Chest heaving just for her. All of your moans and whimpers, just for her. All intentions of school work are thrown out the window. Just for her.

And maybe you need this. It’s good to release some tension, right? You’ve been overworking yourself anyway. Might as well reward yourself for a bit. Shuri thinks you deserve it, that’s for certain. 

But there’s no doubt she’s also doing it for herself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper when her other hand moves from your breast to your clit. Your toes curl and your hands grip each of her forearms. 

“Look here,” she tells you. When you do, she kisses you passionately.

You continue to moan, the noise from the back of your throat flowing into Shuri’s mouth. Your lips sloppily move against hers, your mind all dazed and your mouth as moist as the fingers inside of you.

The pace of her hands are different—one slowly pumping in and out of your pussy and the other quickly rubbing your nub. 

“Oh, god,” you pant as your eyes fall onto the erotic image of her tattooed hands working on and in you. Her hands, her hands, her hands; god, she really knows how to use them.

You finally cum, her name and other babbled nonsense escaping your mouth as she coos, “That’s right, my love.”

But despite finishing, Shuri doesn’t quit.

“Wait,” your body quakes, all too sensitive. You try to shift away, but her hands grasp your inner thighs, dragging you right back against her body. 

“I’m not done yet,” she plunges her fingers back inside your pussy and the fingers on her other hand placed on your incredibly delicate clit.

“Shuri, fuck, please,” your head falls on her shoulder again, eyes rolling back and your hips wriggling. You haven’t released her arms. Your grip only tightens as she forces another orgasm out of you.

Your back arches and your vision practically goes white, so fucking overwhelmed. She releases your clit and she pumps slower until she doesn't pump at all, satisfied with where she's gotten you.

You tremble, easing off your second climax. You mutter, “Shit,” as you catch your breath. “You’re a bitch,” you puff out.

Shuri rubs her palm on your bare thighs. “But you liked it.”

You really did. “Yeah, whatever.”

[multiplicationdivision]

Abott Inc.

The manufacturing plant was abuzz with Tony Abott

Two of him handled a repair on the bottom floor, replacing a slipped wheel in record time. Another watched, ready to jump into motion at any evidence of a problem. Six others manned the quality checks, spouting off curses and shooting the shit as their muscle memory handled all the heavy lifting of searching for faults. Two were out to get lunch, carrying in tow the same burger order for a factory’s worth of the same exact man.

Only the forewoman was unique, a beautiful buff woman who acted to make sure that their unified state of mind never got them in trouble. She kept them out of trouble just as a single Tony kept the factory full of identical copies of her safe in turn.

It was good being Tony.

Years of education in all manners of factory positions, skill in any task that this facility could need. A physique built by an equal time training practically, nothing gained from the gym. Each muscle was built for practicality and each of him could handle a world of weight just on his own.  

This body had once been a man named Braedon. He’d been college educated in computer sciences, a prodigy of his field. He could code anything given a couple hours alone, so long as he had coffee and some good junk food. He was set for a comfy corporate throne after a few years on the bottom, rising high and fast.

It had been boring.

Years of brutal education gave way to months spent in bureaucracy, unable to complete a task that would’ve taken minutes without weeks of back and forth with incompetent bosses. Emails that took longer to write than the quick line of code that would fix the issue.

Braedon loved the feeling of a job well done. Reclining back as the circuits ran perfectly and the tasks played out like a line of dominos falling one after one.

Corporate was like watching every step of his Rube Goldberg machine get interrupted by a whiney man in a suit named Todd or Larry. Made Braedon want to scream and tear down his perfectly built systems just so he could be the one to fuck it up.

The factory had been his life line.

It had been a simple invoice. A practical job that promised everything he could ask for. No boss criticizing his work at every step, chipping away at his confidence. No choking atmosphere to his work, watched by a hundred people in the building that thought their business degrees gave them insight on system design. Way more money than he ever thought possible for a blue-collar job. More than he was making at the moment in his bland yet expensive cubical.

There was a catch.

Braedon had no experience in anything outside of the digital world. He’d traded his body and health in exchange for his degrees. One couldn’t become as specialized as him without sacrificing the self-care that was so important in the labor required of a factory worker.

The factory knew that, but they had an easy fix.

Tony Abott had interviewed him. The singular original Tony Abott.

He was a prodigy in his own right. The industry wet dream. Ruggedly attractive and overly competent. Charismatic and eager to please.

He’d been honest with Braedon from the start. They had their hands in some strange technology and they needed even stranger candidates. Each selected for their unique physiologies and mental states that would make them perfect for their shared role.

Tony said that he’d been selected for his flexible sense of self and pathological loneliness. He’d been like Braedon, giving up his social life so he could be the best of the best. Was left hollow when he reached that height and started depersonalizing without staring himself in a mirror to remember that he existed.

Braedon had been selected after being profiled as similarly lost. Doctor’s notes demanding he eat anything that wasn’t processed. Caffeine and cigarettes letting him keep up with hundreds of email arguments over a simple fucking project. The gut twisting feeling of watching what that abuse did to his body, stealing away whatever youth was left and replacing it with something tired and boney. The hunger to be anything except for Braedon, who never wanted to be understood by another person as the gaping pit of rage and self-disgust that had taken root in his heart.

They were a match for each other and Braedon hadn’t cared for whatever physiological horror a happier person might see in this deal.

He’d quit his shitty corporate hell the next day and made his goodbyes to whatever people passed for tolerable in those minimalist nightmare hallways. Wished them good luck breathing recirculated air-conditioned smog as he got ready to breath real fucking air.

He’d arrived at his second “interview” a week later, having spent the last days wrapping up affairs and communicating with the labor board. The factory wasn’t doing anything shady and the government had needed to setup Braedon’s paperwork for his new life. Little benefits and tax write off as reward for joining the latest and greatest of industrial innovation. That alongside the mountain of appointments they’d needed to make for new identification as his old ID photos wouldn’t identify him for shit in the following day.

Tony had joined him for this “interview”. Dressed to his best in a soft dress shirt and new jeans. Boots barely broken into and a new watch. A professional shave and tussled hair atop a cap, branded with the company logo. A shining example compared to the loose clothes Braedon had been told to wear, making him look anything but a put together future coworker.

A second set of Tony’s exact outfit lay next to the door, atop a shoebox and a fancy new duplicate watch.

They’d made a toast to brotherhood, those two lonely men. Tony had supplied his favorite beer, cheap piss Budweiser. It went down watery and flat, nothing like the vodka tonics Braedon felt most suited to when he was in an alcoholic mood. The slight burn of it travelled down his throat, soothing yet peppery. It brought a head high like nothing else, feeling as if the golden liquid had flowed into his brain and body before it could even reach his stomach.

Alcohol didn’t feel like this, but this wasn’t exactly Alcohol.

Tony had tried to explain whatever biochemical cocktail was laced into the drink. It was all for the sake of complete transparency, they weren’t in the business of trickery. Something to do with forced recombination and stem cells. Braedon was a highly intelligent man, but there was a reason he’d never dipped into biology. Tony seemed the same, rattling off a scripted explanation that he had probably practiced time and time again to look like he understood what he was saying.

Braedon sipped his beer as Tony attempted small talk. They were very different people. Tony seemed awkward as if he felt judged by every little glance that Braedon gave him. Braedon was used to analyzing a person by now, searching for faults that he could use to his advantage. Braedon had been the kindest person at his old workplace but that had been a low bar and he had still become cruel. Braedon could see every way that Tony felt insecure around anyone but himself, as if he didn’t have every tool at his command to be a juggernaut.

The ichor in the drink flowed through Braedon’s neurons and there was a memory. A kid who wasn’t him being criticized at every turn for jobs he’d sworn he’d done correctly. Credit taken from a pre-teen for perfect machines that could cut production times by half. The same instances over and over, leaving a man desperately trying to prove himself to a system that would use him and give the patent to his boss. That despair and betrayal settled comfortably in the spaces of Braedon’s own memories.

Braedon grit his teeth in subtle rage. His jawline had broadened and his face itched and it felt good in some odd way. Matched that swelling feeling of righteous anger.

The ichor altered how Tony fit in his brain. The insecurity became more and more relatable with every swallow. A memory of the guy’s only partner calling him pathetic, using every shitty doubt Tony had confided to wicked abandon. The breakup replayed in the man’s mind like nothing else, a cacophony of how he was weak and annoying and awful in every way.

Braedon wanted to punch that piece of shit and laugh in their face. Braedon knew to heart what human garbage was and Tony was anything but. Braedon could feel the waves of Tony’s insecurity reach through his mind and falter in the wake of Braedon’s own memories. Braedon wished he could have someone like Tony, over eager to be romantic and prepare for anniversaries. Wished he could inject his own point of view on the guy’s memory of his part love and how jealous and narcissistic they actually were.

The Budweiser began to taste good. Braedon could remember the first time they’d drunk it. A trade school kid picking up the cheapest shit at the gas station on their twenty first, drinking as he carved away at a block of wood deep into the night. The carbonation had made the swill all the more comforting, a bitter spot against the peace of his work station. It tasted like shit, but the good type of shit. Fit him and his sweaty downtime, relaxing as he sculpted pine and oak into art.

At some point their conversation stopped being awkward. The words flowed better and better as Braedon felt understanding coating his mind. Nervous jokes became relatable and the nasty feeling that had sat at home in Braedon’s chest for so long felt like it was shrinking. He found himself chuckling at the stories Tony explained, remembering them in tandem with fresh eyes.

The times Tony had nearly burned down any number of mills and processing facilities. The rampant animals that added chaos to his life, including amongst their diversity a very confused bear and a unfortunately horny moose.

Braedon was crying with laughter as he and Tony pieced together how he’d pranked an old shitty supervisor. Braedon could practically hear that supervisor’s rage as his computer downloaded virus after virus, prompted by a helpful little auto-clicker that Tony had installed one late night after another unpaid bout of overtime.

Tony physically unwound as their conversation went on and the number of empty beer bottles increased. He no longer looked stiff in his new clothes, rather his relaxed muscles filled them out comfortably. His confidence changed him, his smile lighting up the room and his mood infectious.

Braedon hadn’t been gay before this, but a shift in his sexuality had been a part of the deal. Tony’s basic information had been open to him and a little pansexuality felt like a pretty good upgrade to Tony’s own deal.

Braedon could remember all the times Tony had felt wrong in the mirror melding into one. Picking apart himself for looking too old, too awkward and too fake. It was all insane of course, as Braedon could easily dissect. Braedon felt his own mind guide that fragment of Tony in his mind to see what he saw, forcing it to witness Braedon’s own perspective instead of that toxic mindset downloaded into the guy since his father had disowned him.

Braedon could feel all his own shit get digested into the well of personality inside his head. Not destroyed exactly, but reorganized. His own insecurities broken down by the logic of Tony Abott as the logic of Braedon Santoro did the same in turn. Fast tracking therapy with only a couple bottles of booze.

He could feel his own memories of coding alone slot next to Tony’s life of construction. The things that made Tony burned brighter in his mind compared to his own pieces, but they were never devoured. Braedon felt himself begin to lurk behind the soul of the man in front of him, but it wasn’t anything like a mask.

The deal hadn’t been to bury Braedon beneath Tony. Braeden would still be there but the man that Tony was would predominate. Tony would trade him his individuality in exchange for this new self. Braeden would give up his old life in exchange for an equal claim to this new identity.

Braeden became Tony, from inside out as the beer coated his tongue like cold nectar. Felt himself become saturated with the man, siphoning every bit of his personality into his soul, feeling the ichor in his blood tremble as it changed the body to fit the mind.

His scrawny body filled with density, calories from the beer being more than efficiently transformed into muscle fibers and sturdy bones. The tar in his lungs dwindled and he breathed clearly. Tony had never smoked a single day in his life and the man that was once Braeden savored the feeling. Savored the experience of having lived a life with more than microwaved meals, even if that life had its own many faults.

The loose clothing filled, his sweatshirt and sweatpants becoming oversized. He’d taken his shoes off prior to his first drink to Tony’s recommendation. Tony had larger feet than him as well as larger everything. Even his pants fit differently, filled much differently than they were before.

It was strange to no longer identify with a name, but he couldn’t think of himself anymore as Braeden. It didn’t fit anymore, supplanted by the name of the man in front of him. It wasn’t just that man’s name anymore, they shared it now.

They needed to share more than that.

Interviews should never go where they took it, but interviews rarely meddled with identity on such a scale. Tony had more understanding for the man in front of him than anyone else and the call to act on it was irresistible.

It happened when the man that was once Braeden began to strip his clothes off, forgoing the last thing that differentiated him from the other. They’d planned to don him in matching clothes and continue their conversation with the last of the prescripted beers. Head to the facility’s temporary doctor to confirm a success.

Tony had joked that he’d only felt this comfortable with another man once. The new Tony had replied that he knew and the part of Braeden permanently at his core flirted. Some charged comment that made them both blush, something about how it would be easier for them to match if Tony just took off his clothes.

They’d been awkward in it, because how couldn’t someone be awkward masturbating like that. A whole other body added to the scheme, even if that body was one you’d always known. They’d forgotten to remove the clothes of the first Tony entirely, so caught up in the feeling of that lockstep of their shared bodies working as one. Whatever was done would be mimicked in turn, a duet in symmetrical motion.

They’d finished together and the awkwardness dissolved. Both no longer held back by the fear of judgment from the other, when they functioned like two parts of the same being.

They’d gotten dressed together, tying their boots up and pulling their shirts on. An entirely new outfit that both Tonys reveled in without the presence of strangers making them second guess it. The one that was still Braeden in memory could feel the twist of amusement at their preening, his heart racing as he looked at his new twin. Braeden had never strongly cared for his appearance, but the sensation of feeling good in his new boots and new jeans was exhilarating compared to the apathy of before.

They’d headed to the doctor together, excitement in every step. With a clean bill of health and permission to continue on with the next man the following day, they were a force of nature.

One became two. Two prepared for three to become one. Three identical men lining up identification and licenses for a factory’s worth of them. Buying clothes in mass to handle a platoon of them.

The first Tony became lost in the crowd and it felt good. Most people weren’t cut out to spread their sense of self across so many. Tony seemed built for it, the pressure of being the best dulled to nothing as he became part of the best. Seeing numerous of himselves discover their identity as a group in their work and downtime. Using the memories of the men they once were to build upon what it meant to be Tony Abott.

They’d bring all kinds of folks home and show them what it was like to be with them. Give the few a taste of a whole world of confidence built through reinforcement. Strings became strong when wrapped into a rope and they were a realized person together.

Tony Abott, operating Abott Inc. Alone yet definitely not.

Pictures taken from Construction Bros series by GymDreams on Deviantart.

[mana-jjk]

thinking really hard about a college au because i enjoy them a lot more than high school aus.

yuuta - pre-med, in school to become a doctor

toge - divided between computer science and dropping out of college to pursue opening his own café with a garden.

maki - pre-law, in school to become a lawyer

panda - zoology

yuuji - business degree that he’s just doing for his grandfather, will graduate but goes on to be a firefighter.

megumi - animal sciences, going on to enter veterinarian school to become a vet.

nobara - fashion design/marketing degree

gojo - a sadistic physics professor with multiple degrees, both through education and honorary, because he got bored. sometimes he picks students out to give full-ride scholarships, because he self-proclaims having too much money.

getou - philosophy professor that enjoys playing the devils advocate and watching his students squirm.

shoko - oversees the university hospital and occasionally recruits for the pre-med program

nanami - graduated with a business degree, agreed to give yuuji an internship

ijichi - gojo’s overworked TA

i just think maki and yuuta would struggle through graduate school together. their cabinets would be full of instant ramen, cabbage, junk food, and ungodly amounts of coffee. the only real food they get is because toge cooks for them and gives them the stink eye every time he opens their cabinet.

toge doesn’t really have room to talk though, he overworks himself and ends up going far too long without sleep. hours on assignments that make him miserable, burned out from the moment every semester starts. too often does yuuta find him dissociating, something he’s all too familiar with. yuuta himself suffers from insomnia, so it’s not uncommon for him to settle on the couch and run his fingers through toge’s hair until his eyes close.

toge probably had a really difficult time getting the courage to either drop out or just really not use his degree as intended. i can’t picture him genuinely enjoying higher education. even in this happy, no one dies world, his family is with the second years for a reason. computer science was appeasing enough, but the unhappiness is so draining that everyday getting up and going to class feels so impossible. he feels his happiest at the gardening club, cooking for his friends, not sitting in a lecture hall with a preview to what awaits him. but ultimately, i think the independence and knowledge that he wasn’t alone or abandoned was enough to push him into the decision. luckily enough he was a scholarship winner (gojo lol) so he wasn’t in debt, and gojo even offered to fund him through culinary school with the promise of free sweets forever.

with yuuta, i think his history of being hospitalized and the accident with rika (who is not dead here !! but she was paralyzed and had to move with a different family member who was able to support her) definitely pushed him to medical degrees. he was probably stuck between being a physical therapist, nurse, and full-fledged doctor. he still keeps in contact with rika, who is one of his biggest supporters when it comes to his goal, but he has a mental breakdown every week thinking about getting a medical degree. shoko definitely takes notice of his talent, and has extended opportunities to intern with her. gojo also found that they were distantly related, and not only paid for his entire education, but also the apartment he rents with maki and toge. he tried refuting, but gojo kept insisting that he was tapping into the family inheritance that technically belonged to both of them.

toge is more than a little devastated when yuuta decides to study abroad in their undergraduate, i actually think that’s when the fully misery of college hits him. not having an unhealthy classmate and friend to look after forced him to focus on himself, his least favorite pastime. having the first years helped, but it also forces him to reflect how much he cared about yuuta past being a friend too.

anyway, i have so many ideas for this au so um please ask me so i can word vomit everywhere. also normalize more college aus so people like me can still relate lol <3

[sixstringphonic]

‘The Godfather of A.I.’ Leaves Google and Warns of Danger Ahead

(Reported by Cade Metz, The New York Times)

Geoffrey Hinton was an artificial intelligence pioneer. In 2012, Dr. Hinton and two of his graduate students at the University of Toronto created technology that became the intellectual foundation for the A.I. systems that the tech industry’s biggest companies believe is a key to their future.

On Monday, however, he officially joined a growing chorus of critics who say those companies are racing toward danger with their aggressive campaign to create products based on generative artificial intelligence, the technology that powers popular chatbots like ChatGPT.

Dr. Hinton said he has quit his job at Google, where he has worked for more than a decade and became one of the most respected voices in the field, so he can freely speak out about the risks of A.I. A part of him, he said, now regrets his life’s work.

“I console myself with the normal excuse: If I hadn’t done it, somebody else would have,” Dr. Hinton said during a lengthy interview last week in the dining room of his home in Toronto, a short walk from where he and his students made their breakthrough.

Dr. Hinton’s journey from A.I. groundbreaker to doomsayer marks a remarkable moment for the technology industry at perhaps its most important inflection point in decades. Industry leaders believe the new A.I. systems could be as important as the introduction of the web browser in the early 1990s and could lead to breakthroughs in areas ranging from drug research to education.

But gnawing at many industry insiders is a fear that they are releasing something dangerous into the wild. Generative A.I. can already be a tool for misinformation. Soon, it could be a risk to jobs. Somewhere down the line, tech’s biggest worriers say, it could be a risk to humanity.

“It is hard to see how you can prevent the bad actors from using it for bad things,” Dr. Hinton said.

After the San Francisco start-up OpenAI released a new version of ChatGPT in March, more than 1,000 technology leaders and researchers signed an open letter calling for a six-month moratorium on the development of new systems because A.I. technologies pose “profound risks to society and humanity.”

Several days later, 19 current and former leaders of the Association for the Advancement of Artificial Intelligence, a 40-year-old academic society, released their own letter warning of the risks of A.I. That group included Eric Horvitz, chief scientific officer at Microsoft, which has deployed OpenAI’s technology across a wide range of products, including its Bing search engine.

Dr. Hinton, often called “the Godfather of A.I.,” did not sign either of those letters and said he did not want to publicly criticize Google or other companies until he had quit his job. He notified the company last month that he was resigning, and on Thursday, he talked by phone with Sundar Pichai, the chief executive of Google’s parent company, Alphabet. He declined to publicly discuss the details of his conversation with Mr. Pichai.

Google’s chief scientist, Jeff Dean, said in a statement: “We remain committed to a responsible approach to A.I. We’re continually learning to understand emerging risks while also innovating boldly.”

Dr. Hinton, a 75-year-old British expatriate, is a lifelong academic whose career was driven by his personal convictions about the development and use of A.I. In 1972, as a graduate student at the University of Edinburgh, Dr. Hinton embraced an idea called a neural network. A neural network is a mathematical system that learns skills by analyzing data. At the time, few researchers believed in the idea. But it became his life’s work.

In the 1980s, Dr. Hinton was a professor of computer science at Carnegie Mellon University, but left the university for Canada because he said he was reluctant to take Pentagon funding. At the time, most A.I. research in the United States was funded by the Defense Department. Dr. Hinton is deeply opposed to the use of artificial intelligence on the battlefield — what he calls “robot soldiers.”

As companies improve their A.I. systems, he believes, they become increasingly dangerous. “Look at how it was five years ago and how it is now,” he said of A.I. technology. “Take the difference and propagate it forwards. That’s scary.”

Until last year, he said, Google acted as a “proper steward” for the technology, careful not to release something that might cause harm. But now that Microsoft has augmented its Bing search engine with a chatbot — challenging Google’s core business — Google is racing to deploy the same kind of technology. The tech giants are locked in a competition that might be impossible to stop, Dr. Hinton said.

His immediate concern is that the internet will be flooded with false photos, videos and text, and the average person will “not be able to know what is true anymore.”

He is also worried that A.I. technologies will in time upend the job market. Today, chatbots like ChatGPT tend to complement human workers, but they could replace paralegals, personal assistants, translators and others who handle rote tasks. “It takes away the drudge work,” he said. “It might take away more than that.”

But that may be impossible, he said. Unlike with nuclear weapons, he said, there is no way of knowing whether companies or countries are working on the technology in secret. The best hope is for the world’s leading scientists to collaborate on ways of controlling the technology. “I don’t think they should scale this up more until they have understood whether they can control it,” he said.

Dr. Hinton said that when people used to ask him how he could work on technology that was potentially dangerous, he would paraphrase Robert Oppenheimer, who led the U.S. effort to build the atomic bomb: “When you see something that is technically sweet, you go ahead and do it.”

He does not say that anymore.

(Reported by Cade Metz, The New York Times)

[seeingivy]

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

--

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers. 

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop. 

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi. 

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths. 

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right. 

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet. 

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen. 

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized. 

Satoru Gojo  Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute 

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer. 

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year. 

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity. 

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.  

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month. 

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night. 

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible. 

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food. 

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose. 

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours. 

“whatcha doing, dollface?” 

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here. 

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state. 

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters. 

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks. 

“how do you know it’s not mine?” 

“intuition.” 

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.  

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek. 

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter. 

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone. 

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one. 

“for you, my sweet lady.” 

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?” 

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back. 

“c’mon.” 

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer. 

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.” 

you scoff, before pulling your hand back. 

“you’re corny.” 

he shrugs. 

“you’ll get used to it.” 

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes. 

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid. 

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day. 

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after. 

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night. 

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining. 

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else. 

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on. 

you feel a hard smack against your head. 

“do your fucking homework.” 

--

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him. 

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again. 

“what, baby?” he whines. 

“where’d you get your necklace?” 

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable. 

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light. 

“you want it, princess?” 

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –” 

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist. 

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap. 

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you. 

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you. 

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck. 

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.” 

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes. 

you scoff. 

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”  

satoru rolls his eyes. 

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?” 

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor. 

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice. 

“you okay? something i said?” 

you shake him off. 

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.” 

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck. 

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?” 

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you. 

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin. 

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.” 

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?” 

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –” 

“satoru.” you whine. 

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.” 

you grin. 

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him. 

“fuck off.” 

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. 

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?” 

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.” 

it’s quiet. 

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks. 

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach. 

“what?” 

“how’d you know it was two degrees?” 

“you-you told me.” 

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.” 

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed. 

“where?” 

you sigh. 

“i stalked you on linked in.” 

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away. 

“oh, baby you didn’t.” 

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!” 

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.” 

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!” 

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!” 

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –” 

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.” 

you glare. 

“i don’t like you.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair. 

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?” 

“okay, lock the door when you leave?” 

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.” 

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts. 

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away. 

“mimosas?” 

“you want to drink that early in the morning?” 

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.” 

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.” 

you smile. 

“you like when i’m handsy.” 

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.” 

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind. 

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –” 

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.” 

--

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there. 

then why didn’t he ask you? 

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in. 

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are. 

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks. 

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?” 

you can feel yourself sweating. 

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you? 

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks. 

“um, yeah.” 

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.” 

suguru and ieiri. 

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?” 

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar. 

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse. 

“do you want help?” 

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you. 

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.” 

“no, no. no problem.” 

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –” 

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.” 

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake. 

“are you a brother?” you ask. 

“yeah! is this your first formal?” 

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.” 

he leans back, eyes wide. 

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”  

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?” 

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.” 

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –” 

he sucks his teeth in. 

“idiot.” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.” 

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –” 

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand. 

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?” 

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?” 

“yuuta?” 

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.” 

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving. 

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall. 

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach. 

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out. 

“y/n? wait, y/n!” 

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin. 

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you. 

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders. 

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago. 

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes. 

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface. 

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –” 

you scoff. 

“are you kidding?” 

“hm?” 

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?” 

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table. 

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.” 

 you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold. 

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.” 

“baby, what?” 

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper. 

his eyes go wide. 

“no, i –” 

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.” 

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop. 

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!” 

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively. 

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.” 

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.” 

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low. 

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?” 

geto offers you a smile. 

“that’s right.” 

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?” 

“that would be me.” she confirms. 

you cringe. 

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –” 

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks. 

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.” 

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.” 

you turn to satoru. 

“and you just gave that to me?” 

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.” 

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-” 

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!” 

you scoff. 

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts. 

“because you flirt with other girls!” 

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?” 

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.” 

satoru groans. 

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?” 

you pause. 

“you do what?” 

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –” 

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru. 

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state. 

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –” 

“you talk to your friends about me?” 

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms. 

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you. 

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him. 

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?” 

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.” 

“don’t be stupid.” 

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!” 

you glare at him. 

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…” 

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him. 

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers. 

“satoru.” 

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.” 

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.” 

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –” 

“satoru!” 

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.” 

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan. 

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.” 

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –” 

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar. 

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.” 

“really?” 

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime. 

--

“what’s the verdict?” 

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth. 

“satoru. what…what time is it?” 

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.” 

“your….what?” 

satoru whines. 

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?” 

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am. 

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?” 

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.” 

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can. 

“you pass.” 

“huh?” 

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.” 

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again. 

--

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai  @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon  @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot  @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

[tarrarre]

These are my baseline standards for a hypothetical boyfriend, in no particular order. However, noncompliance to any of the items on this list do not necessarily hold the same level of intolerance for me, but failure to adhere to one or more of these would be a dealbreaker regardless:

Must spend majority of free time consuming educational content, such as books, educational videos, and documentaries

Must be employed. Intolerance for certain areas of work will be decided at a later date by me

NOT a holder of any of the following degrees: Business, Economics, Computer Science, Film Studies

No more than 3 hours of video games per week, absolutely NO co-op games, single player only

Allows me to go through his phone whenever I like

Does AT LEAST 50 per cent of household chores if cohabiting. The only time I will not expect this of him will be if he becomes very ill at some point

No excessive interest in ANY 20th century military history

No excessive interest in ANY weapons of war. Includes tanks, firearms, explosives, Et cetera

Does not raise his voice at me, EVER

Zero tolerance for pornography use, this includes content intended to be "erotic" where the woman is semi-nude or fully clothed

Zero tolerance for the use of misogynistic derogatory terms (even in "jest"), including but not limited to: bitch, cunt, whore, slut

Must have hobbies that do not involve the use of a computer

Not squeamish on matters related to the outdoors (dirt, insects, animal remains, etc.)

Must know how to cook to at least a moderately good standard

Zero tolerance for weaponised incompetence, including but not limited to household chores

No social media. I may make an exception for Reddit if he posts very infrequently and ONLY on niche hobby subreddits

No consuming YouTube "content farm" channels, including but not limited to: Popular gaming channels and react channels

Low or no sex drive

[odinsblog]

ON OCTOBER 27TH, after roughly three weeks of campus turmoil surrounding student responses to Hamas’s October 7th attacks and the ensuing Israeli bombardment of Gaza, Harvard president Claudine Gay announced at a Shabbat dinner at Harvard Hillel that she was establishing an advisory group to guide her efforts to combat antisemitism on campus. In a November 9th email, she unveiled its members, a collection of Harvard administrators, alumni, professors, and affiliated rabbis. Her message to the campus community laid out some of the group’s initial plans, including “a robust program of education and training for students, faculty and staff on antisemitism broadly and at Harvard specifically.” The email also offered a clue as to the task force’s orientation: Gay noted that the training would address “the roots of certain rhetoric that has been heard on our campus in recent weeks.” It specifically condemned the phrase “from the river to the sea,” a pro-Palestine slogan that she said conveys “specific historical meanings that to a great many people imply the eradication of Jews from Israel and engender both pain and existential fears within our Jewish community.”

But while Gay’s letter suggests that the task force will explore what she casts as a worrisome relationship between antisemitism and activism for Palestinian rights, none of its members have conducted scholarly research into this supposed intersection. Most notably absent from the advisory group was Derek Penslar, the director of Harvard’s Center for Jewish Studies and a leading scholar of Zionism and its critics. His acclaimed recent book, Zionism: An Emotional State, includes a chapter entitled “Hating Zionism,” on the different motivations that have driven Zionism’s opponents since its creation. Given the relevance of his scholarship, Penslar would have seemed an obvious choice for the advisory group. But according to four faculty members familiar with Jewish studies at Harvard who requested anonymity to discuss internal university affairs, not only was he not selected, he wasn’t even consulted. One professor compared snubbing Penslar to “creating a task force on AI without consulting the chair of the department of computer science.”

Why wasn’t Penslar chosen? One likely factor is that he signed the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism (JDA), which states that “criticizing or opposing Zionism” is not necessarily antisemitic. By contrast, most of the people appointed to the advisory group—none of whom have Penslar’s expertise—have made public statements alleging that anti-Zionism is antisemitic, or are affiliated with organizations that hold that view. Though Gay’s email claims that the advisory group is committed to “bringing our teaching and research mission” to bear in the fight against antisemitism, the group’s composition suggests that its members were selected less for their scholarly credentials than for their political beliefs, which align with those of influential donors, some of whom have already withdrawn funding or have threatened to do so.

—Harvard Is Ignoring Its Own Antisemitism Experts