#fastest computer in the world

[its-faizurbd-me]

Powerful Computer For Doing Heavy Tasks

COMPUTER PERFORMANCE DEPENDS ON PARTS WHAT WE ARE INSTALLED WITH PC. SERVICE BASED DEVICE WE CAN MODIFY THE COMPUTER TO INSTALLED BASIC OUTSIDE PARTS.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Shakuntala Devi (4 November 1929 – 21 April 2013), otherwise known as the "Human Computer," showcases her unmatched mathematical talents.

She holds the Guinness World Records for fastest human computation when she successfully multiplied 7,686,369,774,870 by 2,465,099,745,779 in just 28 seconds.

😯🤯😲

[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[reasonsforhope]

"As the world grows “smarter” through the adoption of smartphones, smart fridges, and entire smart houses, the carbon cost of that technology grows, too. 

In the last decade, electronic waste has become one of the fastest-growing waste streams in the world. 

According to The World Counts, the globe generates about 50 million tons of e-waste every year. That’s the equivalent of 1,000 laptops being trashed every second. 

After they’re shipped off to landfills and incinerated, the trash releases toxic chemicals including lead, cadmium, arsenic, mercury, and so much more, which can cause disastrous health effects on the populations that live near those trash sites. 

Fortunately, Franziska Kerber — a university student at ​​FH Joanneum in Graz, Austria — has dreamed up a solution that helps carve away at that behemoth problem: electronics made out of recyclable, dissolvable paper. 

On September 11, Kerber’s invention “Pape” — or Paper Electronics — earned global recognition when it was named a national winner of the 2024 James Dyson Awards. 

When she entered the scientific competition, Kerber demonstrated her invention with the creation of several small electronics made out of paper materials, including a fully-functional WiFi router and smoke detector. 

“Small electronic devices are especially prone to ending up in household waste due to unclear disposal systems and their small size, so there is significant potential to develop a more user-friendly end-of-life system,” Kerber wrote on the James Dyson Award website. 

“With this in mind, I aimed to move beyond a simple recycling solution to a circular one, ensuring long-term sustainability.” 

Kerber’s invention hinges on crafting a dissolvable and recyclable PCB board out of compressed “paper pulp.” 

A printed circuit board (PCB) is a board that can be found in nearly all modern electronic devices, like phones, tablets, and smartwatches.

But even companies that have started incorporating a ��dissolution” step into the end life of their products require deconstruction to break down and recover the PCB board before it can be recycled. 

With Kerber’s PAPE products, users don’t need to take the device apart to recycle it.

“By implementing a user-friendly return option, manufacturers can efficiently dissolve all returned items, potentially reusing electronic components,” Kerber explained. 

“Rapidly advancing technology, which forms the core of many devices, becomes obsolete much faster than the structural elements, which are often made from plastics that can last thousands of years,” Kerber poses. 

PAPE, Kerber says, has a “designed end-of-life system” which anticipates obsolescence. 

“Does anyone want to use a thousand-year-old computer?” Kerber asks. “Of course not. … This ensures a sustainable and reliable system without hindering technological advancement.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, September 13, 2024

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

A Lesson in Love

(This is very much a working title)

College!AU

Smarty Pants!Bucky Barnes x Cheerleader!Reader

Synopsis: Being a newly metamorphosed social butterfly certainly has its perks: an amazing friend group, a position on the cheer squad you’ve dreamed about for years, and the ability to make connections everywhere you go. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make you any better at Linear Algebra, enter Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Cursing, awkward reader, flirty Steve Rogers, that’s it i think :)

A/N: Boy howdy has it been a long time since I’ve posted on this hell-site. I only hope that it’s not shit (it’s probably shit)

—---------------

“Let’s run through the routine one more time guys!” Your voice travels throughout the gym as you direct your teammates to their original starting position. 

“Umed, you’re doing great but I just wanna see a little more stability when you’re holding Yelena up! Yelena, I saw you falter a little at the end there, try and stay strong please!” Your co-captain, Raj, enthusiastically instructs from beside you. 

As the team resets into their original postions, you hear a bumble of agreements and acknowledgments, making you smile. Becoming the co-captain of your university’s cheer team while only being a sophomore was no small feat and you were absolutely ecstatic to get the call 4 weeks ago congratulating your achievement. 

You remember sitting with Yelena in the quad, under a large willow tree, when you picked up the phone, it took everything in you not to squeal with excitement. Though you and your best friend definitely had a mini celebration after you hung up and spared no shame when you both began to scream and shout your elation. 

“Oh, holy shit Rabbit you did it!” The blonde woman had tightly gathered you into her arms and spun you around, a wild grin adorning her face. 

You hug her back just as tightly, “I can’t believe it! I for sure thought Hasan was gonna get it! I mean, his form was impeccable, and did you see that round-off back handspring that he did? Jesus I almost swooned!” 

Yelena laughs heartily before agreeing, “It takes more than just pretty tricks to be a captain though Rabbit, you didn’t get a full ride for nothin’. C’mon, I’m buying us lunch to celebrate,”

After a couple of weeks of barely believing you were able to make the cut as co-captain, you honed your excitement into determination. You began to focus on perfecting the routine you and Raj had planned for the first football game of the year. At this point, it was only a week away and your confidence in the team soared. They all worked so incredibly hard, and by watching how well they were performing today, you had all the faith in the world in them. After the team had run through it a couple more times, Raj had decided to call it for today seeing as you and a few others had an evening lecture to get to. 

Once you had taken one of the fastest showers in your life and changed into a fresh set of clothes, the process of haphazardly shoving your things into your bag and calculating how fast you’d have to run to make it to your class on time began. The gym you practiced in was damn near close to being on the other side of campus from the building your 5 pm Computational Physics lecture was held in and you’d be in deep shit for showing up late. You were already having a rough time in that class and you knew missing even a few minutes of the lecture intro would put you even further behind. 

“You better hop to it little rabbit or you’ll be laaate~,” Yelena sings as she walks past you, already on her way out.

“I know, I know, I know!” You hastily shove the rest of your belongings into your bag before giving yourself a quick pat down to ensure nothing was missed

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you give a quick goodbye to the rest of the women in the locker room before bolting out. The sun was still shining brightly and there was a late afternoon breeze that cooling as you ran across campus. If you asked any of your friends, they’d laugh and admit that this has become a normal Tuesday and Thursday night for you. None of them would bat an eye whenever they would see your blurred figure and hear a breathless greeting as you sprinted past them. They fully supported your wild determination to overachieve in school while also continuing your advancements in the sport that allowed you to attend such a prestigious institution. 

Your lungs burn as you run up to the large brick building that held the lecture hall, giving a kind hello to a couple of people you knew from your previous class that day. The inconsistent squeak of your sneakers on the linoleum floor can be heard echoing throughout the arched hallway as you try and manage a professional-looking speedwalk. A large sigh of relief is released when you see the double doors to the lecture hall are still open, meaning the class hasn’t started yet. Your pace and breath both slow as you enter the quiet space. As soon as you cross the threshold to the large room, there's a quiet call of your name that catches your attention. You grin and turn to your right to see a group of fellow students all giving you hushed greetings and a few congratulations on getting here in time. 

“You made it in time, Honey Bee! M’ proud of you,” Steve, the blond-haired, blue-eyed captain of the football team, greets you from his aisle seat and holds his hand out as he gives you a wide smile. 

“Hi Stevie,” You smile and take his hand, allowing him to tug you closer, “I sprinted all the way here, you’d think I’d be used to the cardio by now but it still kills me,” 

Steve lets out a light chuckle, “if you want I can start trainin’ with you in the mornings. Or tutor you in time management,” 

You jokingly roll your eyes at his comment and give his hand a light squeeze, “My time management skills are primo, Champ. That’s why I’m here on time, thank you very much,”  

He snorts loudly before nodding his head, “yeah okay Honey Bee, if you say so. Unfortunately, even though you’re ‘on time,’ the whole hall is filled except for a seat up front,”

“That’s okay! You know I like making new friends,” You go to pull your hand from his and find your seat but are stopped by another quick tug.

“Hey, you still wanna go to the cafe with all of us after class? I’ll get ya some lemon pound cake for your troubles,”

You pretend to think about the proposition before giving your answer, “I guess if there's gonna be lemon pound cake involved, I could make an appearance,” 

Steve gives you a dazzling smile, his bright blue eyes developing crows feet as he looks up at you from his seat, “Awesome, I’ll see you after class then, honey,” 

Before you pull away, Steve brings your hand up and turns it, giving the inside of your wrist a soft kiss, “Egh Steve, you’re so sappy sometimes,” You mumble and pull your hand away and silently will the heat rising in your neck and cheeks to go away. 

“Only for you Honey Bee!” You hear the smugness in his voice as you turn to walk down the stairs that separate each side of the large auditorium. 

Steve was right when he said there was only one seat left and you feel a small pang of nerves in your chest as you realize you’d be sitting next to someone you hadn’t had the chance to talk to yet. You pride yourself on your social skills, seeing as though in high school and all the years before, you had been a shy, nervous wreck in front of anyone you didn’t know. None of your recent friends knew how closed off you had been since they had only seen you in your ‘flourishing social butterfly’ phase. 

As you approach the last available seat in the lecture hall you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the stress of class as well as the prospect of any awkward conversations. When you arrive at your destination, a small furrow knits your brows together as you stare down at the chair. 

“Um, excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? There aren’t any other seats left,” Your voice is hushed as you try and get the attention of the person who has their bag sitting in the theater seat. 

He doesn’t seem to hear you, too caught up with the conversation he was having with his friend in the next seat over. The only reaction you get is a disinterested glance from the woman your target was talking to. Your nose scrunches up in displeasure as you first glare at the person who had clearly ignored you, then at the brunette who’s completely unaware of your presence.

You clear your throat a bit and try again, “Excuse me? Sir?” 

The brunette jumps a bit in his seat and you’re quickly met with startlingly blue eyes that are filled with confusion, “Uh, yeah?”

Your lips pull into a soft smile and you glance back down at the chair before focusing back up on the man, “Is it okay if I sit here? There don’t seem to be any free seats left in the hall,” 

The man’s eyes widen and he does a quick glance between you and his bag before yanking it out of the seat and plopping it in between his legs, “I am so sorry, of course you can! I-I didn’t realize anyone else would be coming,”

A light laugh of surprise bursts from your lips at his apologetic reaction, “It’s okay, it’s my fault for getting here so late anyways,” you give him a kind smile before sitting down and taking your laptop out and setting it on the small fold out table.

You lean back down to search your bag for your charger and a few other things. As you're searching through your bag, you hear a quiet chuckle beside you and you can’t help but turn your head back up to look at your neighbor. He notices your confused look and motions towards your laptop that was covered in various stickers. 

“I really like that one,” there’s a wide smile on his face as he points to a sticker depicting a frog inside of a heart that said ‘commit crimes’ in cute bubble letters. 

A grin makes it’s way onto your face and you nod your head in agreement, “it’s one of my favorites too! I really like this one as well,” you point to another sticker that shows a little mushroom person riding atop a black cat. 

Before the brunette can respond, your professor finally begins to start class, startling the both of you into silence as you ready yourself for any note-taking that needs to be done. As the professor started going over this week's subject matter, which happened to be matric eigenvalue problems, your palms already began to sweat in nervousness. You took your hands from atop the keyboard of your laptop and placed them down onto your thighs, lightly balling them in and out of fists to ease your stress. You had been introduced to matrices in your last semester, but to add a new formula to the mix made you nervous enough to forget any prior knowledge you had stored away. 

Throughout the lecture you had to continuously remind yourself that lots of people are probably having issues with the current topic. However, that voice of reassurance had gotten quieter and quieter as you noticed everyone around you quickly typing or scribbling down notes without hesitation. No one had asked a question and with a quick glance at your laptops clock, you find there to be only 10 minutes left of class. You nervously shift around in your seat and focus on typing down the finishing notes when you feel a pair of eyes set on you. 

You nervously glance up and to the side to catch a fleeting glimpse of your neighbor quickly averting his eyes. The heat that flares up in your neck and cheeks is almost unbearable as you realize he knows that you’re struggling, can physically feel how lost and confused you are with the subject. You immediately become tense and your hands once again leave their place on your keyboard before falling back down into your lap, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your thighs before tightly clenching them into fists. The stress of the class mixed with the embarrassment of how obvious your lack of understanding has made your brain shut down, and only after noticing everyone around you packing up their things did you realize you had completely checked out for the last few minutes of class. 

“Aw shoot,” you mumble quietly while softly closing your laptop. The faint beginnings of a conversation come from beside you, but you’re too busy trying not to break down to make sense of any of it. Little crescent moons were being left in the palms of your hands from how hard your nails were digging into them, your mouth was beginning to taste like iron from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek, and the sting of tears were present in your waterline. 

As you leaned down to shove your laptop and notebook into your bag, you made sure to take a deep breath because you would be damned if you ended up crying like a baby in front of fellow classmates. Especially ones you just met. It didn’t help too much, but after blinking rapidly for a moment you were certain no tears would fall until you were successfully inside your dorm room. Steve would understand and would make up an excuse for your absence at the cafe.

“Hey,” A voice speaks from above and you jump in surprise before sitting back up straight to find your seat neighbour with a soft smile on his face.

“Hello,” you mumble quietly before glancing down at your lap then back up to him, “I’m so sorry-I’m probably in your way aren’t I?” 

His eyes widen and he quickly puts his hand up to halt you in your movements of gathering your things, “No actually I um-I wanted to actually ask you if maybe we could compare notes for this lecture? I feel like I might have missed some stuff and it seemed like you got everything down. I’ve been kinda struggling with this unit so it’d help a lot,” 

You stared at him for a moment, blinking blankly at him almost in disbelief… Was he really asking you of all people for notes?

You fumble with your words for a moment before answering, “Well I’m not-um I actually might not be the best person to ask for notes,” the sheepish admittance does well to bring a new wave of heat crawling up to the tips of your ears and you try not to cringe in embarrassment, “I’m only averaging a 74% in this class right now,” 

The man tilts his head and gives another soft smile in your direction, “Well I’m averaging a 68 so ya still got me beat,” 

The quiet chuckle he lets out makes your lips tug up into your own smile and let out a quick laugh yourself. You quickly turn your head to the back of the lecture hall and see Steve and a few of your friends gathered around the entrance, discussing something unknown while patiently waiting for you.

“Alright that’s a fair point,” you giggle and take your phone out, “If you wanna, I can give you my phone number and email so we can exchange everything we have? I can’t really promise anything groundbreaking but maybe it’ll help?” 

He grins widely and pulls his own phone out of its hiding place, unlocking it and tapping to his contact list, “Yeah that’d be really nice…I’m James by the way,” 

You mentally scold yourself for not asking the man’s name earlier before revealing your own to him. 

“Nice to meet you,” James' voice is gentle and endearing as he holds his phone out to you in a silent request for your contact info. 

You quickly input your number and send yourself an emoji to ensure it was correct, “I um-I have plans to go to a coffee shop with my friends right now, but I promise I’ll send you all the notes I have as soon as I get the chance if you just wanna text me your email address? Maybe we could share a google document and work off of each other? Really whatever works best for you is fine with me!” 

You bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from word-vomiting anymore and wonder how, after so many years, you are this awkward with someone. It’s been ages since you’ve been this socially inept with a stranger and you wrack your brain for a reason. 

James bends down and grabs his backpack before standing up to his full and very intimidating height. You haphazardly gather your own items and fumble out into the aisle to let James out. 

“No rush! I’m just appreciative of any help I can get really,” he admits, raising his right hand and running it through the dark brunette tresses of his hair. 

“No yeah I totally get that! And I’m actually gonna ask my friend for some help tonight so I’ll even have some extra tips ready!” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you do another glance back to see Steve giving you the look and you figure you shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer, “okay, sorry I have to go now, but it was really nice to meet you James! And thanks for liking my stickers,” 

Why you brought up the stickers, you’ll never know, but you can fight with yourself about that later. 

James lets out a boisterous laugh before answering, “It was my pleasure, Sugar. I’ll be sure to message you later,” 

You were thankful that James had turned around to talk to his friend as it made it easier for you to hide the shock on your face from the sweet pet name he threw out. Putting your hands up to quell the heat that had risen to your cheeks, you make your way to Steve. 

“You make a new friend?” He asks with a knowing smile. 

“Yeah! He said he needed help with this class so I told him we would exchange notes when I got home. Oh also can you go through the entire lecture with me?” 

Steve stared down at your shorter frame, letting out an amused snort and shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re going to exchange notes with a dude when you don’t even know what went on in the lecture today?” 

“umm…yes, yes I’m going to be doing exactly that unless you be a sweet little lamb and go over the notes with me so i can fix any mistakes!” You respond sweetly and grab onto Steve's hand to pull him closer to the doors, “pretty, pretty, pretty please?” 

He rolled his eyes and pulled his hand from your grasp before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you into his side, “yeah yeah, ya know I might have to start charging you Honey Bee,” He leads you out of the building and you both begin making your way to the coffee shop on campus. 

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Prodigy - Breathe 1996

"Breathe" was released as the second single from the Prodigy's third album, The Fat of the Land (1997). It features a drum break from the song "Johnny the Fox Meets Jimmy the Weed" by Thin Lizzy, and the whiplashing sword sound effect is a sample of "Da Mystery of Chessboxin" by Wu-Tang Clan.

The song was a major worldwide hit, reaching the top 10 in several countries such as Australia, Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands, New Zealand and Switzerland. "Breathe" was a number one hit in Denmark, Finland, Ireland, Norway, Sweden and the UK. In the US, it reached number 18 on the US Hot Modern Rock Tracks chart. The single also returned to the Billboard charts after Keith Flint's death, entering number 14 on its Dance/Electronic Digital Songs Sales chart in 2019.

The Fat of the Land topped the UK Albums Chart and the US Billboard 200. In 1999, it entered the Guinness World Records as the fastest-selling dance album in the UK. It was also nominated for Best Alternative Music Album at the 40th Annual Grammy Awards, but lost to Radiohead's OK Computer.

The music video for "Breathe" won the 1997 MTV Video Music Award for Viewer's Choice and International Viewer's Choice Award for MTV Europe.

"Breathe" received a total of 61,4% yes votes! The Prodigy has previously been featured on the polls at #8 with "No Good (Start the Dance)".

[chlorinatedpopsicle]

A video of "human calculator" Shakuntala Devi solving complex mathematical equations within seconds.

In 1982, she was awarded the Guinness World Record for fastest human computation. She was assigned a multiplication problem with two random numbers of 13 digits each (7,686,369,774,870 × 2,465,099,745,779) and gave the correct answer (18,947,668,177,995,426,462,773,730) in 28 seconds.

She travelled to several countries for the purpose of having her talents studied. In 1988, her abilities were tested by Arthur Jenson, a professor at the University of California, Berkeley. Problems given to her included calculating the cube root of 61,629,875 and the seventh root of 170,859,375. Jensen reported that Devi came up with the solutions (395 and 15) before he could write them down in his notebook.

Before all that, in 1977, at Southern Methodist University, she gave the 23rd root of a 201-digit number in 50 seconds. Her answer (546,372,891) was confirmed by calculations done by the UNIVAC 1101 computer, for which a special program had to be written to perform such a large calculation. The computer took longer to solve the problem than Devi did.

Oh, also, in 1979, she wrote the earliest book about homosexuality in India.

(info stolen from Wikipedia)

[cherryredstars]

Hiiii congratulations in 1k you deserve it so much!

not sure if this is how to request a prompt for your 1k celebration but can I get "reader gets injured" with Simon please

1K Prompts

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Injury, Hospitals, Angst with Happy Ending, Indirect Mentions to Simon’s Abuse

Summary: He hasn't done it in a long while.

 Word Count: 1.8K (Not Edited)

There is nothing in the world.

It all disappears in a blur as his mind races. His mind, his thoughts, are faster than the car. He can’t make out anything zooming past his window, barely even recognizes the colors or the feel of the wheel under his hands. He’s jittery, highly agitated as he yells and slams on his horn. He doesn’t even process the words he’s saying, doesn’t even know if they’re even words. Maybe they’re just sounds, grunts and wordless screams. He doesn't know, doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter right now. Nothing matters right now. Nothing will matter until he makes it to the hospital. 

He needs a new car, he thinks. This one is too slow. It’s max isn’t fast enough. At this point, it’d be faster for him to get into a car accident and be driven in an ambulance to the hospital than this piece of junk truck. It makes him grit his teeth, swerving in and out of lanes and breaking traffic laws he doesn’t care to keep count of. He can vaguely make out Price’s car behind him, Johnny in the car behind Price’s. Don’t say that, he can hear Price say in his head, Don’t say that, Simon. Especially not now. 

Great, now his own fucking thoughts are making him feel guilty. 

He doesn’t really park, he runs over the curb actually. It causes everyone to jump back, throwing mean words at him that don’t land. The keys are still in the ignition, trusting Gaz will take care of it. Who gives a damn about that fucking car anyways, Simon thinks. He’s already made up his mind that he’s getting a new one. A sports car maybe, not for the looks but for the speed. He’ll have to do research on the fastest car money can buy when he’s home. When both of you are home. 

The cold air of the hospital makes him shiver once he runs inside. He looks lost for a second, eyes scanning the new environment for his goal. His eyes skip over the reception desk before rapidly darting back. Once his eyes lock on it, he walks with purpose. His eyes don’t stray, effectively maneuvering his body around the busy waiting room and lobby until he’s right in front of it. He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he plants them on the desk. His fingers tremble and jerk, skin flinching with the feeling of absolute dread running through his body. 

“How ca-”

“Last name Riley. Car accident.” He cuts the receptionist off. His voice has the hard edge he uses with the recruits. It doesn’t faze the receptionist. 

He’s impatient as they tap away at the computer, their eyebrows furrowed and they ask Simon for more information like your first name and sex. Simon gives them irritably, almost blowing a fuse when they ask for his relationship with the patient. 

“Spouse.” 

He has never been annoyed to declare that to someone before. But he finds little reason to be prideful and happy right now. 

“Still in surgery, but you and your group can wait in the waiting room to the left. A surgical doctor should be out shortly with news.”

Simon turns around, not even noticing the rest of 141 standing patiently behind him. His eyes scan them, nodding before he turns and walks robotically to the waiting room. Price politely thanked the receptionist for him before following after Simon. Simon throws himself into an empty seat, leg bouncing against the floor. His eyes find the doors that lead to surgical suits. His arms wrap around his chest, attempting to keep his racing heart in his chest. A harsh breath is exhaled from his nose, getting caught under his balaclava. It gets a few stares from some of the families in the waiting room, some clutching their smaller children closer to them. Simon would usually take it off for the sole purpose of not drawing attention to himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Or, he doesn’t feel like he can. It feels like it's the only thing keeping him together right now. If he takes it off, he’ll come crumbling down. The fake composure will die away with the exposure and he’ll die before knowing if you’re alright. Depending on the answer, he might not make it through the night. 

A cup is placed in front of his face and Simon follows the hand up to the face of Johnny. Simon takes it, the warmth feeling strange against his skin. He doesn’t drink from it. Johnny and him don’t exchange words, turning to take the seat across from him and next to Gaz. Price is in the chair next to Simon, all four of them silent. Johnny stares at Simon, Simon stares at the floor, Price flips through outdated magazines from the coffee table beside him, and Gaz is surveying the space. All of them are still clad in their military gear, just gotten off the plane when Simon-- when Ghost-- got the call. Gaz cracks his knuckles and Simon has to bite his tongue to rest the urge to tell him to shut up. 

He resorts to counting the seconds that pass in his head. He loses count whenever the steel doors open and a doctor and nurse comes out. His head snaps up, the boys following his line of sight as the doctor peers over at the clipboard the nurse has. He prepares to shoot up when the doctor’s surgical mask shifts with jaw movement. He starts back from one when the name being called isn’t Riley. He thinks his heart shrinks with every name that passes. Price always pats his back with a ‘the next one, mate’. 

Sometimes between the seconds and names, Simon finds his forehead leaning against his folded hands. His eyes are shut tightly and he tries to do something he hasn’t done in a long time, something he has believed to not work for a long time. Simon sits and he prays. He prays. He doesn’t remember if there is a process he's supposed to follow. He only remembers all his past prayers had been rushed, hiccuped statements made after his father left his room or when he heard the yelling in the kitchen. They never got answered.

Is he supposed to start with something? Is he supposed to have a rosary or a bible or something in his hands? His hands are still covered with dirt from the battlefield, he reeks of smoke and gunfire. Is he clean enough to be praying? Does God or whatever up there care? He hopes they don’t, hopes they give him a free pass just this once. He hopes they do it for your sake. He hopes and prays and hopes some more. Is it enough? It doesn’t feel like enough. 

Is Simon supposed to sweet talk them? Butter them up until their egos are fed and find him worthy of listening to. He isn’t good at that. Or does he need to be direct? Demanding what he wants and not backing down until he gets it? He’s really good at that. You would probably know what to do. Even if you don’t, you’d probably have a solution that makes sense. Everything makes sense when it's you. You make everything make sense. Simon doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. He doesn’t want to be reminded. 

He debates getting up. Debates if he should go to the receptionist and ask them where the hospital’s chapel is. Maybe he’ll find whatever the fuck the religious connection guy is and ask them how to pray. Ask them to teach him. Or maybe he’ll ask them to pray for you. He’s sure they have a better chance of being answered then he does. But a fear glues him to his seat. What if he leaves and your name gets called? What if he isn’t there when it happens? What if he isn’t there for you again? He sits and he hopes and he prays. 

Please. Please, whoever, whatever can hear me, don’t take them from me. Stop taking people I care about away from me.

He hopes it is enough. He hopes they hear him and they remember the shit they put him through. He hopes they take pity on him. Simon hates when people feel sorry for him. He hopes they feel really bad and really sorry and really, really awful for what he had to go through. He hopes they find him to be the most pitiful human there ever was to exist. He hopes it's enough to save you. He hopes they decided to be nice to him today. 

And they are. Holy fuck they are. 

The doctor comes out, a nurse with clipboard following three times. Simon gets up the fourth time, before the name is even called. Price and Johnny and Gaz stand with him. 

“Riley.”

He flies. He flies across the room, ‘Here. I’m here. That’s me.’ He doesn’t know if he says those words aloud or in his head. The doctor watches him approach and Simon almost collapses to the ground when his surgical mask moves. He doesn’t catch everything, his mind being too slow to follow. Traumatic brain trauma. Bleeding. Successful. Lucky. Strong. Fighter. Okay. 

Okay, okay, okay. 

He thinks Price keeps him upright when he grabs his arm to pat him in the back. Simon grabs him back, pulling him close and his shoulders shake as he hides his face. He feels like a kid, crying into his captain’s shoulder as relief washes over him. Price squeezes him. The two of them say nothing, and Johnny and Gaz excuse themselves to get everyone food from the hospital cafeteria. 

Later, Simon finds himself in your hospital room. The chair is slightly more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. The boys have gone home by now, promising to drop by and telling Simon to keep them updated. Usually, constant noise would irritate Simon. But he finds himself thankful every time the heart monitor beeps, praying the noise never stops. He must have dozed off because he’s confused when he feels the slight rubbing on his hand. The sound of the heart monitor is different, still consistent but a bit faster. 

He pulls his head from his arms, propping his chin on his forearm as his gaze drifts to your face. Your eyes are half-lidded and sleepy, face drenched in exhaustion. You are so absolutely beautiful that it's devastating. It punctures his lungs and deflates his body of any breath he will ever take. His heart beats rapidly, hand squeezing yours tightly as his spine straightens. He has to resist the urge to pull you to him and crush you against his frame. 

You give him a dopey smile, one stained with tiredness and the remains of the anesthetic. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is croaky and your speech is slurred. It’s beautiful and the most lovely sound to exist. 

Simon brings your knuckles to his chapped lips. He presses a firm kiss to them, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that a few drops of water drop onto your skin. 

“Hi.”

His voice is just as croaky and just as beautiful.

Got a little carried away with this one.

[sapphicandgraphic]

The Girl Next Door—Chapter 9

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down. 

Chapter: 9/10 (The Full Moon)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of panic attack, parental death, attempted self-harm (non-graphic), round 1 of makeup sex (very graphic), yeehaw 🤠

“You always this quiet?” 

It was almost dawn and you were cruising through the glassy streets of downtown Philly with a paramedic named Dom. He was burly, with a little beer belly that pressed up against the steering wheel. 

You shrugged. “I guess?” 

Your tone made it clear—you didn’t feel like chatting. Dom nodded, lapsing back into silence.

You’d woken up in the backseat of your car almost 24 hours ago, hungover and miserable. Ignoring several missed calls from Melissa and Boone, you grabbed a hot cup of coffee at a nearby diner and then went straight to work, electing to pick up a double shift instead of going home. 

“Man, I feel bad for the poor bastards working tonight,” Dom continued, making another valiant attempt at small talk. “The full moon always brings out the crazies.” 

You made a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat, privately wondering if you could convince the station manager to put you on call again. You were exhausted, but going home was the last thing you wanted to do. The possibility of running into Melissa had once been the brightest part of your day—trading soft smiles and quiet hellos on the stairs—but now the thought of seeing her was too much, too overwhelming. 

The police scanner erupted with excited chatter and you leaned forward, turning up the volume. 

“Pedestrians report seeing a white male on the ramparts of a building on the 6500 block of Market Street, units in the area please respond.” 

You looked at Dom, who immediately shook his head. 

“They ain’t requesting paramedics,” he said. 

“We’re right here, though,” you said, jabbing a thumb toward the street. “Let’s at least check it out.” 

It was still early and there was barely any traffic downtown. Dom kept the sirens and lights off, edging toward the tower with his face pressed against the windshield. 

“I can barely see anything,” he grumbled, coming to a stop directly in front of the building. “Where is this guy?” 

“There,” you said, pointing to a small figure silhouetted against the grayish predawn light. You unbuckled your seatbelt and hopped out of the cab. The wind was picking up. Large droplets of water smacked down on the sidewalk. You jogged toward the entrance and stepped through the revolving doors. 

“First responder,” you said, identifying yourself. “What’s the fastest way to get to the top of this building?” 

The security guard looked at you uncertainly, so you slapped your palm down on the desk in front of him.

“We have a possible jumper, I need to get up there now.” 

That did the trick. He leapt out of his chair and hurried to the freight elevator. Swiping his key card, he pressed 54 on the panel of circular buttons. Music played on tinny speakers. 

“Who would be in the building this early?” 

The guard frowned thoughtfully. “Usually just maintenance people.” 

The elevator arrived at the top floor and the doors slid open. The space was vacant, with just a few computer chairs and desks scattered in random clusters. A cold breeze whipped against your face. Looking around, you quickly spotted the only open window. 

“Go back downstairs,” you said. “My partner will be wondering where I am, you can send him up.” 

You didn’t wait for an answer, striding across the room and cautiously poking your head outside to look around. 

The man was standing on a narrow ledge, gripping the closest concrete beam with white knuckles. He looked to be in his early fifties, dressed in a navy suit and matching necktie that was flapping furiously in the wind. He glanced over when you appeared. 

“S-stay back,” he stammered, shivering. 

You raised your hands, assuring him you wouldn’t come any closer. “I just want to talk.”

You leaned a bit further out the dormer, trying to get a sense of your options. The ledge directly beneath the window was about two feet wide. You glanced down at the street far below and a wave of queasiness washed over you. 

“What’s your name?” 

When he didn’t reply, you introduced yourself and he finally looked at you properly, a glimmer of faint surprise on his face. 

“Ben,” he answered, then added, “You and my daughter have the same name.” 

“No kidding? Small world.” You knew enough to keep him talking, but didn’t have much more than basic de-escalation training to rely on for whatever came next. “How old is she?” 

“S-seventeen,” he said. “She’ll be eighteen in a month.” 

Down on the street, a pair of police cruisers had just arrived. You could see this development making Ben more agitated. 

Casting around for ways to distract him, you suddenly heard yourself say, “My dad died when I was about her age.”

He looked up. Encouraged, you kept talking.  

“He was a lot like me. Stubborn. Intense. That morning, we had argued about something stupid. The last thing I said wasn’t…”

You suddenly found there were tears clouding the edge of your vision. You swallowed around a lump in your throat before you could continue. “It wasn’t very nice. And then I walked out the door and never saw him again.”

 You locked eyes with Ben, pouring every ounce of sincerity you could muster into your next carefully chosen words. 

“Worst day of my life, losing him,” you said. “Please don’t put your daughter through that.” 

Ben opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted as a news helicopter buzzed overhead, swinging low and circling the building. He swore softly, flinching and swaying a little as the sound intensified. 

You clenched your fists, feeling useless. If he wouldn’t come to you, the only other option was to go to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like Melissa Schemmenti. Idiota.

“Fuck it,” you growled, pushing that cautionary voice aside. 

In one smooth motion, you swung your legs out the window, planted your feet on the ledge, and stood upright before you lost your nerve. Jesus Christ, it was a long way down. You shuffled toward Ben and he finally looked over again, alarmed to realize you had joined him on the precipice. 

“Stop!” His voice was desperate. “Go back inside!”

Slowly, carefully, you extended your left hand. “Not unless you come with me.”

He glanced down at the street, pain swirling in his big brown eyes. You deliberated for a half second longer. Then, closing the distance between you, you gripped his shoulder, effectively anchoring yourself to him…and hoping you hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of your life. 

                                                                ***

Melissa was awoken from a fitful sleep by the sound of her phone ringing. It was raining outside, and the walls of her bedroom were bathed in a stormy, slate gray light. She answered, mumbling your name into the speaker. 

“Melissa?” A man’s voice asked, vaguely familiar. “It’s Boone.” 

Melissa hadn’t seen or heard from you since Friday night. At this point, she was sick with worry. The last look you’d given her before walking away—so hurt, so lost—was seared into her memory. She’d called, texted, banged on your door. But you were gone.  

“Boone?” Melissa croaked, confused and still half-asleep. Something in his voice put her on edge. “What’s wrong? How’d ya get this number?” 

“Turn on Channel 12,” he said grimly. “They’ve been playing it all morning.”

Melissa felt the icy fist of fear plunge into her chest, painfully gripping her heart. She shot out of bed, wide awake, nearly falling over the shoes she’d left in the hallway. Grabbing the remote, she clicked the TV on. The local news station was in the middle of a report. 

“—harrowing scene underway earlier this morning in downtown Philadelphia as a first responder attempted to coax a troubled man off the ledge of a skyscraper. This clip from our correspondent captures the drama playing out in real time. Just a warning, some viewers may find the footage distressing.” 

The screen transitioned to a news helicopter feed, which showed two figures—a man dressed in a navy suit and a paramedic—standing on the narrow exterior ledge of a tall building. Melissa sank onto the sofa, not believing what she was seeing.

Boone said something on the other end of the line, but Melissa couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The phone slipped out of her hand, fell to the floor.

“It appears the first responder is trying to reason with this man, who is clearly in crisis, and prevent this from escalating,” the reporter said. “The rain and wind are certainly making an already very precarious situation that much more dangerous, I’m told that gusts are up to 35 mph right now and they are hundreds of feet in the air.”

Melissa could see your lips moving as you spoke, a nervous smile flickering across your features.

“We don’t know much about either of these individuals at this time and we don’t know what led up to this moment, but there are emergency services on the ground cordoning off the block, attempting to formulate a strategy in the event of a worst case scenario.”  

Melissa watched as you extended your hand, moving further out along the ledge. Every fiber of her being was willing you to stop, step away, protect yourself, get back inside. 

“Don’t,” Melissa moaned, easily reading the determined look on your face. “Don’t do it.” 

Almost defiantly, you closed the distance, outstretched hand landing on the man’s shoulder. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then the man bowed his head. He seemed to be crying.

“Something is happening. The first responder has made contact, and appears to be negotiating.”

Several tense seconds slipped by before the man finally nodded, turning back toward the open window.

“It looks like both parties are slowly moving to safety, they need to be very careful and they certainly aren’t in the clear quite yet, but this is just an incredible outcome that — oh my god!”

Suddenly, the man’s back foot slipped off the wet ledge of the building and he lost his balance, pitching sideways. You turned reflexively, wrapped an arm around his torso to steady him, and the video feed went dark. 

“No!” Melissa screamed. 

The station anchor appeared on screen again, looking extremely grave. “Now, we apologize for that interruption, our feeds run on a 5-second delay and our producer initially made the decision to cut because he was uncertain of the outcome. But take a look at what happened next.” 

Melissa felt like the world was sliding out of focus. She realized she was crying, that she had been crying for some time.  

The helicopter feed resumed. Somehow, against all odds, you had caught the man in the navy suit, pulling him back from certain death. You both clung to each other in a tight embrace, leaning against the facade of the building. For a moment, you stood there catching your breath. Then, hand never leaving his, you guided him carefully toward the open window, helping him duck back inside and finally hopping through the dormer yourself. 

“I’m happy to report both individuals were treated for minor injuries at the scene but are expected to make a full recovery. Stay with us for more details on how this incredible story unfolded and an interview with the chief of police after this commercial break.” 

Slowly, Melissa came back to her senses. Alive, alive, you were alive. 

She retrieved her phone from the floor with numb fingertips. Boone was still rambling on, working himself up into a proper outrage. 

“—don’t know what went down between you two, but if you see her before I do, tell her I’m going to kick her ass up one side of this city and down the other!” 

There was a faint shuffling noise in the hallway, the soft sound of tired footsteps dragging across the floor. Melissa’s ears, which had been hyper-focused all weekend hoping to intercept you, suddenly perked up.

“Way ahead of ya,” she growled, jumping up from the sofa. 

Melissa flung open her door just as you were unlocking yours. For a beat, you simply stared at each other. The telltale hum of attraction flickered to life in your chest as you looked at her, wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and an oversized tee. 

“Well,” you said hoarsely, the ghost of a smile flickering across your tired face. “Looks like I finally know what Melissa Schemmenti wears to bed.” 

Her voice was little more than a snarl as she advanced, pushing you backward into your apartment and gripping your arms. 

“You got a death wish or something?”

She shook you a little, as if to confirm you were really standing there in her arms, whole and alive and unharmed. Up close, you could see that she’d been crying. 

“I take it you saw the news,” you guessed quietly.

Melissa paused, concerned by your flat, disaffected tone.

“You almost - you could have d-died!” she choked out. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

You didn’t know what to say. Aftershocks of adrenaline were still crashing through your body. You felt feverish, strung out. Now Melissa was suddenly here, soft hands running up and down your arms, looking just as wrecked as you felt. It was too much. 

“I can’t - I can’t do this,“ you gasped, anxiety racing through you.

You didn’t have any energy left to regulate your system. The first thing to go haywire was your breathing. You opened your mouth to elaborate, and found yourself hyperventilating. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Melissa stepped even closer, placing her hands on your hips, carefully guiding you to the sofa. You sank into the cushions without a word and the redhead knelt between your legs. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, though she had a hunch. “Talk to me.”

You laid a trembling finger on your pulse point. The rhythm was wild, erratic. “Panic attack,” you guessed, desperately trying to regain control. But your gasps kept coming in big shaky gulps, you were trembling, and you couldn’t seem to get out of your own head. 

Suddenly, a warm palm cupped your jaw, breaking through the terror. You leaned into the touch, even as you told yourself it meant nothing. 

“Can you try something for me?” Melissa asked, remembering some basic first aid training she’d taken last year. You gave her an uncertain look. “I just wanna help,” she said, tone close to pleading. “Let me take care of you.” 

You nodded, rubbing a shaky hand across your chest, trying to ease the tightness there. 

“Tell me 5 things you see right now.”

“Table, coffee cup…” You swallowed thickly, casting your eyes around the room. “Table, coffee cup, magazine, record player, houseplant.” 

“Very good,” she said, keeping her voice low and even. “Now tell me 4 things you can touch.” 

“Sofa, throw pillow, blanket.” Your fingers twitched, almost reaching out for the other woman.

“One more,” she coaxed. 

“…a very bossy redhead.” 

Melissa rubbed her thumb against your cheek, smiling crookedly. You flushed ever so slightly when she praised you again. “Great job, sweetie. Now tell me 3 things you can hear.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened, surrendering to the comforting rumble of her voice. The lull of obedience grounded you, the rest of the world slowly fell away. 

“Traffic, fan, ice-maker,” you recited. 

She chuckled and the sound was warm. You felt the vibration through her fingertips, which were still brushing against your face. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” she said, noticing that your breathing had started to even out. “Just a couple more questions. Can ya tell me 2 things you can smell?” 

You frowned, cocking your head slightly to one side. All you could smell was Melissa, a mix of her shampoo and something spicy like peppermint, something earthy like tea leaves. 

“Hon?” She prompted. 

“Cloves,” you said finally. “And vanilla.”  

“Good girl.” A pleasant shiver rippled down your back at those words, a bolt of arousal igniting your core. You took a deep, slow breath, anchoring yourself in the moment with her. 

“Now tell me one thing you can taste.” 

Your eyes snapped opened, glancing down as her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. That familiar tension settled between you, charged with longing and uncertainty and need.

Apologies had never been Melissa’s strong suit. Sometimes they took hours to come, sometimes days, usually arriving too late to do much good. Here on the floor, kneeling between your legs, she realized how close she had come to never getting the chance to deliver this one at all. The thought twisted like a knife in her gut. 

“Taste,” you repeated, coherent thoughts evaporating as she slowly rocked toward you, giving you plenty of time to pull away. You didn’t dare move, whimpering as her lips finally brushed yours. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, murmuring the apology in between feather-light kisses. “I’m so, so sorry—I never wanted to hurt you, and I never shoulda said what I said.” 

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear tenderly, scanning your face with bright, worried eyes.

“I been so scared all weekend,” Melissa continued with her hushed confession. “Then this morning—“

Her breath caught, and a few tears spilled down her cheeks. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against hers, letting her words sink in, slowly soothing that aching spot inside your chest.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” she said softly. She kissed your throat, your jawline, the corner of your lips, looking mesmerized and reverent. “If something happened to you, I couldn’t—“

She shook her head slightly, words failing. Running the pad of her thumb over your slightly parted lips, her eyes darkened with sudden inspiration.

“Let me show ya?” 

You sighed, unable to resist everything she was offering. “Show me,” you agreed.

Melissa groaned as you licked into her mouth, desire and relief pulsing through her. You pulled her up into your lap so she was straddling your hips, then guided her down until she was grinding against you.

“Take this off,” you said, slipping your hands under her shirt and nuzzling your face against her chest. “I want to look at you.”

She slipped the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her hair, still tousled from sleep, spilled over her shoulders in a messy curtain. Wearing nothing but her boy shorts and a shy smile, Melissa was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

Her head tipped back in pleasure as your hand slipped between her legs, lightly circling her clit through her underwear, running your fingers back and forth until you could see the damp flood of arousal forming a wet spot on the thin fabric. 

“So pretty,” you murmured, hypnotized by the sight of this woman dripping through her underwear for you.

She swore, bucked her hips in desperation. “Need you inside.” 

“Not yet.” 

You wanted to savor this a little longer, licking the creamy skin of her breasts, taking one rosy nipple into your mouth and sucking until it was a hard peak. She arched into your touch with a whine, but seemed to accept the slow, punishing pace you were setting. Her face scrunched up in an adorable mix of frustration and anticipation.

You slid her underwear to the side, swiping your fingers through hot, swollen folds. Melissa’s hips stuttered forward, chasing the friction. 

“You like that?” 

She nodded, unable to form words as she stared down at your busy hands. “Uh-huh.” 

Melissa watched you withdraw two glistening fingers from her pussy, coated in wetness, then fuck her arousal deep into your own mouth. You licked and sucked your digits greedily, eyes rolling back, expression blissed out and slack. She clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled up by you. 

“Please,” she said, fisting a hand into the front of your shirt, voice shaking. The profound emptiness she felt was painful. You lowered your hand to her leg, chin glistening with a mixture of your spit and her slick. 

“Please what?” You smiled lazily, watching her squirm as you traced circles on the inside of her thigh, edging closer to where she wanted your touch most desperately.

“Please fuck me.”

You pushed two fingers inside her, easily slipping into warm, wet heat. She moaned brokenly and sank down on your hand, taking you as deep as she could, rocking against your lap. You surged forward, kissing her and swallowing her desperate sounds.

“Perfect,” you breathed, adding a third finger and feeling her walls clench at the pressure. “You’re perfect.” 

Tears pricked the corners of Melissa’s eyes as she stared at you, nodding wordlessly, totally captivated by the look of desire on your face. 

You drove your hand up into her again and she breathed your name. It was better than she’d dreamed it could be, better than all her fantasies. Warm waves pulsed out from between her legs, where she was so deliciously full of you. Her entire body was enveloped by the toe-curling pleasure. You brushed your palm over her clit and she shuddered.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Never stop.” 

You could tell from the flush in her cheeks, the heaving in her chest, the wetness coating your hands. Melissa was already so close to falling apart. 

“You want it?”

She nodded, eyes glassy and unfocused as you circled her hard clit again and again and again. “Please, please, please, please, please,” she chanted, matching the rhythm of your hand pounding into her. 

“Then take it,” you grunted, using your hips to thrust your fingers up even deeper inside her. 

“Oh my god,” Melissa groaned, head tipping back in total surrender as she stilled above you. Then a gush of wetness coated your hands and she cried out, repeating your name. You watched, transfixed, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from her body, certain you would never be able to get enough of this feeling.

Melissa finally slipped off your hand, slumping in your lap sweaty and spent. You guided her gently down onto the sofa, tucking her against you. 

“Thought I was s’posed to be the one makin’ you feel better,” she slurred. You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on the side of her head. 

“You did.”

Melissa hummed, wrapping her arms around your waist, eyes fluttering shut. Outside, the rain was still falling in heavy sheets. Pulling a blanket down from the back of the sofa, you realized the exhaustion from the weekend was catching up with both of you—and for once, you didn’t feel the need to keep running. 

[bun-unit22]

Hear me out:

Huge 20ft supercomputer robot woman who works for NASA or some other large organization. Her build being built for looks and efficiency, sleek and modern but having a screen for a head to show everything that’s needed with multiple plug in ports all over her back.

…and her 5ft robot gf who’s more akin to a subpar gaming computer that streams for a living. Who’s built more like a standard humanish robot body and frame.

The two met when the small one got lost looking for a GameStop and ended up meeting the other on the outskirts of a facility (she sucks hard with directions =p). The small one didn’t k ow what they were and just began talking about her interests and asking where to go. They found it amusing and decided to become friends with them. Mostly because the rest of the bots at her work place were rather boring and only ever focused on work related topics.

One thing led to another and the two now live in a home designed for the supercomputer. With a little corner now accommodated for the other.

In their free time they like to spend time together just laying down while charging or with the small one playing her games on their back. Which allows them to plug in their own computer to have the fastest gaming set up in the world!

Course she doesn’t do this too often since it feels like she’s taking advantage of her, but the other doesn’t mind. She actually likes it since it allows her to watch while she works on her own thing.

As for other ‘activities’…the two found they loved a bit of a reverse role. With the small one being the dom and acting as if she’s superior while the other figuratively and literally bows down to her.

Along with allowing her to have access to her entire body and internal processes, letting the small one tease her as she shuts down the programs that make her run. Causing the other to experience glitching and near crashes which are something she never felt before, and add to the humiliation and pleasure.

They keep going until they begin to overheat and stop for the day, going to cuddle and after care.

God I wish it was me >~<

[grogumaximus]

In December 2023, Alex Albon, one of a series of Red Bull drivers who have found the second seat to Max Verstappen too difficult to handle, attempted to describe the feeling of manoeuvring a car in the design that the four-times world champion prefers.

“If you bump up the sensitivity [on a computer game] completely to the max and you move that mouse and it’s just darting across the screen everywhere, that’s kind of how it feels. It becomes so sharp that it makes you a little bit tense,” Albon said.

Lawson is performing much worse in a car which, at its peak, is faster. There lies the crux of the issue. In the wind tunnel and the simulator this Red Bull car is quick, of that there is no doubt. But it is incredibly difficult to drive.

Verstappen is a generational talent, the best on the grid. The way he likes to set up his car, and therefore the direction which Red Bull have developed to favour, is one with a very strong front end, less stable on the entry to corners, and with a more unpredictable back end. The world champion would perhaps beat everyone on the grid in the same car, by a couple of tenths of a second.

It is not necessarily that the car has been engineered specifically for Verstappen, but simply that in the development direction, he is able to handle where the pure performance is better. It is understood that Pérez also provided very little feedback, which has contributed to the issue — engineers took Verstappen’s suggestions. He has been more committed than ever in attempting to help understand the issue.

Lawson has a good feel for the car, and is able to provide accurate feedback, it just does not suit him and gives him little confidence. Even Verstappen has found the previous two Red Bull cars difficult to control and “peaky” with very little consistency.

“At the beginning of 2022 we had quite a stable car, but with quite a bit of understeer that was in it, which obviously Max hates. We had an upgrade in Spain where we put a lot more front into the car, and Max made a big step forward. Checo [Pérez] sort of nosedived from that point,” Horner said.

“You’ve got to produce the quickest car, and you’re driven by the information that you have and the data that you have, and that’s as a team. We don’t set out to make a car driver-centric, you just work on the info that you have and the feedback that you have to produce the fastest car that you can. That’s obviously served us very well with 122 victories.”

Verstappen believes Lawson would drive faster in the Racing Bulls team, which has a slower peak performance but is easier to handle. On the basis of last season, it feels hard to disagree.

“Finding the limit in a car that has inherent understeer [the Racing Bull] is always going to be easier than finding the limit in a car that is a little more edgy,” Horner added.

Set-up changes can help (as Red Bull attempted to make under parc fermé conditions on Sunday, with Lawson starting from the pitlane) but attempting to remove the most difficult characteristics of the car also makes it inherently slower. (...)

[cosmique-oddity]

Cosmos and Soundwave Story Line

Made with the precious help of my mutuals @gravedwe11er and @polarpasteque

Because we thought maybe the Mecha Universe lacked a bit of a space Nerd :)

Based of @keferon ‘s AU

————————————————————————————

It felt like a rainy day, when the skies cry and you decide to stay at home, watching the weather from a point where it doesnt affect you. Intensitive at even one single drop, usually, you take a blanket and watch at these amount of water, crashing on everything. Set the world all grey.

Well space was just far bigger. Far lonelier and, as a matter of fact....just more far. He watched the little blue planet, with his white volutes the day and all the littles spotlights at night, mimicking the stars all around. Even the Black void of space was captiving, far deeper than all kind of Earth's deepest oceans. We could say....it felt like the little planet was slowly swallowed by darkness.

Cosmos understood why a lot of astronaut came back to Earth and didnt care a lot about Earth matters. How could you pay any attention at some human conflict when the space was so much bigger than human's hybris ?

He shared that opinion. When he made his first trip to the outer space, Cosmos couldnt stop himself but admire the little details, even the more basic ones ever to space life. He was almost distracted from his original mission but, happily, the man was good at multitasking.

Floating like that, in the Hermes I Station, he knew he wouldnt want to return in Earth. Ever.

And while he was gazing at the immensity of the greater dark, he didnt realized how he was trapping himself, definitely, on what he was now calling 'his great loneliness'.

Not that it was any different than on Earth, he always was that silent man, that clever and kind and courageous man. Everyone of his colleague knew to call him if they needed something.

"Call Cosmos, the one with stars and space shuttles on his desk, he is very strong, he can carry that".

He didnt even know when he became 'Cosmos'. He was useful. Everyone knew to call him for help, but the thing was...nobody really knew him for himself. He was Cosmos for everyone because that was the only distinct thing the other could tell about him. He was obsessed with the stars. Pretty average among training astronauts ? Maybe, but Cosmos physically yearned for space and stars. Everything was about that. Escaping Earth. Setting himself on a tiny space box and sort of leave this physical realm. Be among his Kind, the cosmos.

Now, among the stars, he was feeling it. The loneliness. Wasnt that different from before, but maybe more hopeless. He talked with people, yep, everyday. His Job was very important, using all the high tech tool he has at his disposal to find the Kaijus, the fastest possible, and warn the Kaiju's Extermination Organisation. He saved lifes. And on the same side, was trying to intercept any extra terrestrial communication, from Kaijus, to find something, anything that could slow their obliteration.

Cosmos was aware of their war and how they were losing it. But everything was so far in space...the program that choosed to isolate him on that tiny flying box at the edges of their gravity force and Earth's magnetical shield also prevented him from War's horrors. He didnt saw any horrible things he knew were happening. He know it, saw it on internet.

He sighed. Mostly, his work was to watch the AI of his computer do the job alone, and assist any bug he saw.

Lets say they werent a lot of them, and oftenly he was just watching any serie his internet connexion allowed him to watch. Or searching for any weird frequencies on space.

Did he said he nammed the AI Doc ? And was talking to the thing, on top of that ! Doc wasnt a bad person. His answers were just a little bit expected and repetitive...

This day was one of those empty day. No scary alien was threatening humanity. Well, in the film he was watching, Alien, he couldnt say so. Did he mention he was a space nerd ? Even the movies he watched reflected that.

And because IRL Aliens were invading his homeland didnt mean he didnt enjoyed watching similar scenario in movie. He was far from everything. It wasnt affecting him at all, this war.

The latest human he spoke to was a Mech Pilot, codnammed Jazz he was charged to monitor through space. He a was solar person, loving music... Sympathetic, you couldnt possibly hate Jazz even if you knew him only three minutes. He was Talkative enquiring for the astronaut's mental health, alone out there. Cosmos has felt compassion for him. Someone threw him too, in the middle of the biggest knowhere existying. Except everyone knew Jazz and considered, and liked him, so it was certainly difficult for the pilot to leave. It wasnt for Cosmos.

Cosmos knew he was the last living person he saw. Because Jazz vanished. Probably died. And this human was the living being he grieved the most in his whole life. He cried alone in the space station when someone ordered him to stop searching for the silenced voice of Jazz.

They didnt send another man, and that, he was glad. He prefered having emotions toward an undying AI than realizing how many people died around him.

Cosmos was sat at his desk. Question of protocol, he wouldnt imagine not being here and missing a Kaiju and being responsible of Earth's destruction. Slowly dying from oxygene loss or being swallowed by some extraterrestrial giant jaw.....or being held hostage and having eggs layed on him.....

Maybe he should stop watching that movie.

Suddendly, an audio signal howled inside the etricate desk room of the station, Cosmos paused his movie and stood up, enthusiastic. That was the radio signal ! Jazz being finally alive ? An old broadcast lost in space ??

Radio news were the most interesting informations he could have !

All happily, he floated until having the complex system of communication in his hands. He could proudly affirming he knew everything about this machinery. That was his most loyal friend and good news annoncer. And he have been to silent since Jazz disappearance.

Except this time, the intercepted message wasnt translating in words, it wasnt an audio media. His device was displaying error messages. The thing was extremely weird looking. There was some space radio wave, in a frequence he never heard of before now.

Some weird alien wave ? He was displaying itself on repeat, as if it was enscribed into the FSK modulator (that one device used to send signals via frequency through very far locations). He took the headphone and tried to module the initial suit of waves into something audible. Changing the setting everytime he heard a risible ‘pfffuit’ or a deafening ‘SHRIEEEEEERK’. Maybe he would lose his hearing before translating the enigmatic sound wave. And people would be forced to send someone after him. Someone else, less used to loneliness would be where he had been. Wondering the same things. Sleeping in the same berth. Being disposable was always an unpleasant thought.

He slowed immensely the data of the enigmatic wave, and finally began to hear something approximatively human. English it was.

“.....Noise…..”.

An erailled, full of static voice could be heard, close to Cosmos's ear, and all it was saying was a statement about what he was hearing from the beginning of his manipulation. What the hell was this message ? It was coming from so far ? Was it alien ?? Did he finally succeed on the mission of finding another life form or even more interesting, secret Kaiju's comm line ??? Were the extraterrestrial sentient after all ???

He slowed even more and passed on another frequency. The message kept its static and emotionless deincarnated voice but the pronounciation was perfect and audible.

“Noise : excede the safe amount” “Sentient local specie : Endangered” “{QQZERRTEAAASS} : might and will hear”.

What was that ? The first alien broadcasted message in history and it was telling him to shut the fuck up ?

The unbearable piercing scriieech sound before ‘might and will hear’ was not rocket science to understand. That was probably speaking about the Kaijus. Kaiju and danger formed a loving couple from the past decade.

He took some time to mentally register the information before imobilizing. Eyes wide. Another signal was displaying. And its been on display for longer than he noticed. That was Kaiju's detection signal. His heart stopped for a while. Since how long had he been focused on the translation of the alien message ?

Floating as fast as he could. Wich must have been fun to watch if he wasnt alone, Cosmos crossed the distance between the modulator and the board computer for the second time of the day. Faster.

He read, panicking highly, all the pings across the screen and finally allowed his heart to slow down.

He was wrong. He was not that useful. Doc took care of the attack, he…..it warned the Extermination Organisation, and triangulated the position for the intel responsibles back on Earth.

The only thing it needed from Cosmos was writing a report and archive all the attack's metrics.

He sighed. Doc wouldve done very well without him, if he could automatize this part of the script, he would be officialy useless.

He nervously scratched his curly ginger hairs. He hadnt noticed how long they got (not that long but longer than the classic military haircut he adopted at the beginning of his formation). Useless ?

No. Cosmos had now the most important mission of humanity. He had to answer back to the alien form that wasnt (probably) a Kaiju. He worked on Doc's automatization for a while, remembering suddenly he had to eat at some point. Biting proudly in his sandwich, he told the AI.

“I cannot assist you anymore, old friend, i have my own mission to accomplish now, im going to talk to the Alien. And if i can convince him to help, then maybe i can save Earth !”.

A small little voice inside of him asked if he wasnt completely insane and delusionnal and wasnt inventing himself a mission to prove he wasnt worthless. He shut the voice. He was Cosmos ! He would talk to the alien. Peoples would remember him, they would remember because they would survive !

………………….

He spend weeks into trying to imitate the complex alien sound wave. This was so fast, so evoluated, and yet, the data was speaking a perfect english ? How was it possible ?

He frowned.

“Try again buddy, your Alien is going to be bored of you”.

He was calling the very small message he recieved ‘His Alien’ and wrote several copy of what it was saying on papiers and pinged these on the walls. Like a serial killer.

His own message, “Are you another sentient life form ? My name is Cosmos”

Wasnt definitely as professionnal as he would make himself believe, but he was trying to convert it to the same kind of radio wave as he recieved.

He has to remember how he translated the message in the first time.

And invert the protocol.

But his FSK modulator was simply not strong enough. He had to power down a few things. Useless things absolutely. And only for a few seconds. Nothing too dangerous about that. He definitely wasnt a small human in the middle of uncooperative environment.

The man inspired deeply and started his protocol, disabling the lights of the station, and preserving the oxygene system at all cost, along with the pressurisation system and basically all life preserving systems.

It worked. He had his message. He could send him via the FSK modulator.

He pressed the button and smiled deeply. He just send a message to an Alien !

“Hey doc ! Guess who established contact with the Alien ! Oh oh im going to ask him sooo many questions !”.

No answer. Cosmos remembered having to disable settings about conversation in order to efficiently make Doc replace his work.

He felt incredibly lonely.

“Im sorry i had to silence you Doc….”.

The signal of external message ! Again ! And that quickly ??? How.

Hyperventilating, Cosmos giggled to himself and turned to the modulator. The translating part was much easier now that he did it one time.

“Designation : Soundwave”. “Query to Cosmos : why answering ?” “Procedure of making further noise : susceptible to increase the attention of {QQZERRTEAAASS}”.

Oh, so his Alien was really a Soundwave. That was his name…. Funny.

The Kaijus again ? And this weird speaking manner again ? He thought for a couple of second about an adequate answer…But there werent any established protocol in case of contact with intelligent aliens. The Kaijus couldnt speak with them. They tried, so this meaned Cosmos was doing that freely. Nobody knew, nobody done that before. He was free to speak to the Alien as unprofesionnal as he wanted. He could tell his governement later.

“The Quiizertas ? Already noticed us. And attacked, more or less sound wont change anything about that”.

The answer was quicker again

“Prononciation of opposant : incorrect”. “Reading : /’kwin:n'te'zau:n/”. “Status planet ?”

The voice asked. And using the phonetical alphabet with that ?? Where did an Alien learned that ??

Cosmos bit his lips and answered, with an intensified apprehension.

“Planet uuuh. Under attack. Of the Quintessons” He translated with his own vocabulary, excited at the idea of inventing a new word. “Resisting with our technology but its barely enough. We need help”.

“Earth : very small” “efficiency of resistance : surprisingly high”. “Soundwave : cannot provide help at the moment. But i need to understand what is making your fight against quintessons fair”.

Cosmos blinked in front of his modulator.

“What ? Fair ??? We are being destroyed here and he call that a fair fight ?”. He paused. He had more conversation with this Soundwave than with any human being since Jazz. He might getting attached to the outer life form if he kept answering his question with fairness.

“Cosmos, stop. He could look like a pudding, or even not being material”.

Right. The name was Soundwave, the alien could be only made of sound waves.

He could also be a Xenomorph and lay eggs on him at the first occasion. The young astronaut didnt want to die with his stomach perforated !!! It looked very painful in the movies….

“Hoping its a E.T. kind of alien….”

“Are you hostile to my planet or kind ?”.

He shyly asked. Kai- Quintessons were enough trouble for his ‘small’ planet. Oh god it was his new favorite word ! He invented it. Well….technically he just translated with his own alphabet the phonetical alphabet Soundwave gave him. Hm.

His answer was quick.

“Your Specie : dont seems hostile towards our kind”. “Conflict : not wanted”.

Well that was positive at least.

“Is it some kind of space alliance ?”

The answer arrived later than the others times, and for a couple of stressful minutes, Cosmos feared that all of that was just a dream. Wich was possible, considering how he ate the whole pack of his last cookies last night. Maybe he was sick. At this moment, the answer arrived at his ears.

“Alliance : would benefit both of our planets. What is your status among your specie ?”.

Cosmos took some times to take off the headphone and start a gravity-free dance of victory.

“i….made….an alliance….with a fricking alien….!”

Or maybe the Alien would suck all of his internal organes out of his body and lay eggs on his brain. Maybe.

But, but maybe he would save all of them from the Kaiju, and they would befriend their specie ! Yeah. More probable. And Cosmos would be the first human to have made contact with them ! So they would like him. Soundwave might be as excited as himself was to discover another specie ! He would listen everything, because data about alien was a common source of enjoyment. He wouldnt even have to say something interesting !

Cosmos reached Doc's screen and yelled at him with a joyful tone.

“Doc ! Guess who just made the first pacific contact with another life form ! From another planet ! Perhaps even galaxy !”.

All full of wonders and lively, Cosmos answered Soundwave again.

What was the question ? Ah yes, “statut among specie”.

“I am erm…..Space Explorer. And Responsible of all communications to report and locate the Kai….Quintessons”.

He tried to make his post sound cool and not ‘im just a guy assisting an AI far more developped than me and honestly i feel useless”.

“Soundwave's statut : Communication and Information Officer among Cybertronian's forces”.

That sounded very military. The good or bad side of this information was debatable. On one hand it was surely better than just have Soundwave as an ally. But an Alien army ? It was more dangereous than just innocently talking to Soundwave… For a random reason, he had the impression the word ‘among’ has been twisted a little in comparaison of the otherwise perfect pronounciation of Soundwave's voice.

“Great i suppose. This mean we are kind of similar in statut….?” “By the way…..”

He cut himself at the middle of his answer, thinking about it before answering. What was the most pressing question about the extraterrestrial being at the other side of his spatial Phone ?

Wait. He had it.

“How do you speak exactly the same language as me ?”

That was a question. For the first time since the recieving of that first call, Cosmos wondered if someone was just playing with him since the beginning, making him look like a fool for his own distraction. Wont be the first time. Was Soundwave an Alien ? What stupide name was even Soundwave ? The answer stopped his spiraling.

“Soundwave : recieved radio wave from your planet : cracked the language code. Very interested on a large panel of codes and language, find the understanding of foreign dialects : very stimulating”.

Oh funny one, Soundwave considered his language like a code to break. The Alien was very interesting, and wait a sec

“Your heard the radio waves ? But you must be very far from Earth, the waves must have distorded every sound and mixing with others space sounds”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener”.

What did he meant by that ? But another voice line could be heard now.

“But data from radio waves : insufficient”. “Interfacing with local technology : optimal for the comprehension of your successful resistance”.

Interfacing ?

“You want to come here ? To Earth”.

“Yes”.

That last message was very short but awakened an insatiable curiosity in the Astronaut's heart.

“Oh my god my Alien is going to visit us” he whispered with joy.

One last question, because he felt brave.

“May i continue asking you questions while you uh…..travel to my planet ?”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener. And is feeling curiosity towards your specie”.

The voice repeated his phrasing “May I ask you questions ?”.

And Cosmos's loneliness slowly faded away.

——————————————————————————————

Annnd here is my little Cosmonaute <3 had to make a design for him

Welcome to the ginger club, blorbo.

Soundwave’s is coming soon he will look like his TF One self, with some modifications, in order to effectively hide himself from Earthling that are more Earthling than Cosmos hehe….because tf1 Soundwave is some sort of space ship. It’s not very useful when you want to hide from our paranoid society

(You guys will like it !!)

Ps : Hi Keferon ! I know you don’t necessarily seek for the ramifications of your AU if it doesn’t connect with you but I hope you will like this little story/introduction to my sweet platonic space chilling ship)

[retropopcult]

The Cray X-MP was a supercomputer designed, built and sold by Cray Research. It was announced in 1982 as the "cleaned up" successor to the 1975 Cray-1, and was the world's fastest computer from 1983 to 1985 with a quad-processor system performance of 800 MFLOPS. The principal designer was Steve Chen.

[usafphantom2]

Low-profile HUD and a massive 10x19-inch Large Area Display (LAD)—this is the way to go with the F-15EX. Did you know that EX's LAD can be customized like an iPad, tailored to each pilot’s preferences? Featuring an IR touch function and integrated with the ADCP II mission computer—one of the fastest and most powerful in the world—the F-15EX cockpit is a marvel of technology.

@RealAirPower1 via X

[reasonsforhope]

Determined to use her skills to fight inequality, South African computer scientist Raesetje Sefala set to work to build algorithms flagging poverty hotspots - developing datasets she hopes will help target aid, new housing, or clinics.

From crop analysis to medical diagnostics, artificial intelligence (AI) is already used in essential tasks worldwide, but Sefala and a growing number of fellow African developers are pioneering it to tackle their continent's particular challenges.

Local knowledge is vital for designing AI-driven solutions that work, Sefala said.

"If you don't have people with diverse experiences doing the research, it's easy to interpret the data in ways that will marginalise others," the 26-year old said from her home in Johannesburg.

Africa is the world's youngest and fastest-growing continent, and tech experts say young, home-grown AI developers have a vital role to play in designing applications to address local problems.

"For Africa to get out of poverty, it will take innovation and this can be revolutionary, because it's Africans doing things for Africa on their own," said Cina Lawson, Togo's minister of digital economy and transformation.

"We need to use cutting-edge solutions to our problems, because you don't solve problems in 2022 using methods of 20 years ago," Lawson told the Thomson Reuters Foundation in a video interview from the West African country.

Digital rights groups warn about AI's use in surveillance and the risk of discrimination, but Sefala said it can also be used to "serve the people behind the data points". ...

'Delivering Health'

As COVID-19 spread around the world in early 2020, government officials in Togo realized urgent action was needed to support informal workers who account for about 80% of the country's workforce, Lawson said.

"If you decide that everybody stays home, it means that this particular person isn't going to eat that day, it's as simple as that," she said.

In 10 days, the government built a mobile payment platform - called Novissi - to distribute cash to the vulnerable.

The government paired up with Innovations for Poverty Action (IPA) think tank and the University of California, Berkeley, to build a poverty map of Togo using satellite imagery.

Using algorithms with the support of GiveDirectly, a nonprofit that uses AI to distribute cash transfers, the recipients earning less than $1.25 per day and living in the poorest districts were identified for a direct cash transfer.

"We texted them saying if you need financial help, please register," Lawson said, adding that beneficiaries' consent and data privacy had been prioritized.

The entire program reached 920,000 beneficiaries in need.

"Machine learning has the advantage of reaching so many people in a very short time and delivering help when people need it most," said Caroline Teti, a Kenya-based GiveDirectly director.

'Zero Representation'

Aiming to boost discussion about AI in Africa, computer scientists Benjamin Rosman and Ulrich Paquet co-founded the Deep Learning Indaba - a week-long gathering that started in South Africa - together with other colleagues in 2017.

"You used to get to the top AI conferences and there was zero representation from Africa, both in terms of papers and people, so we're all about finding cost effective ways to build a community," Paquet said in a video call.

In 2019, 27 smaller Indabas - called IndabaX - were rolled out across the continent, with some events hosting as many as 300 participants.

One of these offshoots was IndabaX Uganda, where founder Bruno Ssekiwere said participants shared information on using AI for social issues such as improving agriculture and treating malaria.

Another outcome from the South African Indaba was Masakhane - an organization that uses open-source, machine learning to translate African languages not typically found in online programs such as Google Translate.

On their site, the founders speak about the South African philosophy of "Ubuntu" - a term generally meaning "humanity" - as part of their organization's values.

"This philosophy calls for collaboration and participation and community," reads their site, a philosophy that Ssekiwere, Paquet, and Rosman said has now become the driving value for AI research in Africa.

Inclusion

Now that Sefala has built a dataset of South Africa's suburbs and townships, she plans to collaborate with domain experts and communities to refine it, deepen inequality research and improve the algorithms.

"Making datasets easily available opens the door for new mechanisms and techniques for policy-making around desegregation, housing, and access to economic opportunity," she said.

African AI leaders say building more complete datasets will also help tackle biases baked into algorithms.

"Imagine rolling out Novissi in Benin, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Ivory Coast ... then the algorithm will be trained with understanding poverty in West Africa," Lawson said.

"If there are ever ways to fight bias in tech, it's by increasing diverse datasets ... we need to contribute more," she said.

But contributing more will require increased funding for African projects and wider access to computer science education and technology in general, Sefala said.

Despite such obstacles, Lawson said "technology will be Africa's savior".

"Let's use what is cutting edge and apply it straight away or as a continent we will never get out of poverty," she said. "It's really as simple as that."

-via Good Good Good, February 16, 2022

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Chapter 12: deep, dark, and desirable

Synopsis: Vox makes an interesting proposal

Master List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The temperature in the room dropped. "So," Vox's voice was smooth but with an edge to it, "tell me about your bunker? Is it the exact same as our old Archivist?" He guided—pushed—me to the desk filled with loose metals and strange objects I didn't understand.

"I wouldn't know," I answered calmly. "I've never seen another bunker. Just mine."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Really? Then how'd you become an Archivist?" He leaned his hip against the counter and cross his arms over his chest.

My words were careful and deliberate. "I was raised as one. I grew up reciting my oath."

"How many people were in the bunker? Rumors say it could sustain ten people."

"Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore. All the technology died well before."

He hummed in response with a nod of his head, then stared off into the distance to think about his next question. It gave me time to look around the little room. I could see old batteries, fans, wires, and even computers that were working. This guy...he was an inventor.

"Al said he found you alone." Vox pulled my attention back to him. The use of his nickname wasn't lost on me. "Must've been a tough life. Spending your existence with dusty old books, preserving ancient knowledge for a future you can't even imagine...seems rather lonely. No one to share those heavy secrets with?"

I knew the coming implication. "It's my family's legacy. I wasn't very keen on sharing it."

Vox chuckled and leaned a hand on the counter. "And now here you are, sharing it. With Alastor no less. How's he been handling things with you? Everyone knows he's not the patient type."

I swallowed, reading well into what he was trying to learn. "He...has his ways. But...I think he understands why I need to take things slow." Despite Alastor's transgressions towards me, I wasn't keen on painting a bad picture of him, especially considering the warning he gave me beforehand.

"Taking it slow..." Vox repeated. He straightened up and brushed a blue claw along my hair. "You must be the first person to ever slow him down. Impressive, really. But I wonder what else you're good at...influencing."

I stepped back, eyes falling to the floor. "I-It's just the nature of the work. Texts get old and worn out. They have to be handled carefully and translating an Old World language is really complex. It's just more—"

"Of course—" he cut me off, "—I can't help but wonder if there's something else to it. Al is a determined man, but is it the work that's slowing him down or is he...distracted." He touched the edge of my jaw and pulled it up. It was then I realized his blue claws were actually metal.

Every single muscle in my body turned to stone as he leaned in close to my ear. "It's quite a feat to have a man, such as Alastor, so wrapped around your pretty finger. But you're not here because Al couldn't find someone to guard you. You're here because of your lack of progress."

He pulled away to look at my stunned expression. His smile wasn't as sharp as Alastor's but it made my skin crawl nonetheless. "...What?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you?" He stepped backwards and sat on a stool by his desk, resting his chin in his hand.

"Told me what?"

"I originally asked to have you in my district. I've got all kinds of Old World tech that just needs quick translations. Tech that could make life easier and more comfortable for the people of Pentagram city. And tech that could actually save it."

I waited for him to go on. The puzzle pieces were on the table and now I was putting them together.

"But everyone believed that Al, of all people, could break an Archivst the fastest." Vox tilted his head further and looked me up and down. "Until he failed to produce results."

I shifted my weight between my feet. My legs were on the verge of visibly shaking.

Vox's smile widened. "For someone who grew up reading Old World language, you're really bad at it."

"My pacing is the same as when I was in the bunker." I hated the way my voice began to shake. "It's very hard to read it and translate it into our language. There's so many factors at play, not to mention some pages are really worn and I have to—"

"Al may be willing to give you time," he interrupted again, "but I am far too excited to have so many of my questions finally answered. And...well...I prefer a more hands on approach." He tapped his claws on the counter to enunciate his point.

He suddenly stood and fixed his shirt. "We've only got a few a days together. And I'm sure you know this will go by much faster and smoother if you cooperate. For now, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

I followed him down the short hallway to an empty room. It had a small bed, a moldy desk, and a closet that looked like it was falling apart.

"I'll be back to take you to dinner. You can start your work tonight."

Then he shut and locked the door.

~*~

I found myself having less of a moral and ethical debate regarding the translations Vox asked of me. They were simple objects with directions on the back that posed no real threat to Humanity's future. At least, I thought so.

Some of the objects were things like a mechanical box to reheat food, a charger cable, a speaker, and a thermal scope among other things. I took my time on each, writing on the small pieces of paper he gave me and pretending it was difficult to read some of it. Vox liked to ask similar questions as Alastor did about the art of translating. I was grateful translating languages wasn't a widely known skill because I was able to convince them it was far more difficult than in actuality.

Vox sat next to me tinkering on a device while I translated a manual. He had a magnifying glass on a movable stand to help him see the smaller things, such as wires and tiny screws. He was picking apart a solar panel from a solar powered lantern. He was deathly quiet but obviously watching me whenever he took a break.

I, on the other hand, was having a much harder time with the manual he had given me. The cover showed two little mechanical orbs on the front. The title said "Airpods" and the first few pages told me they were wireless headphones.

The problem, however, were the immense amount of words I didn't understand. I usually had a dictionary with me but I wondered if these obviously coined terms would be in it. It made the translation a challenge to decipher and I didn't bother to write any of it down yet, trying to read through it to get a better grasp on how it worked. It would also allow me to gauge what I should and shouldn't translate.

"You've been quiet, Archivist," Vox broke the silence. "Very focused. Maybe something Alastor would find interesting that you don't want to tell him?"

I ignored the jibe, looking at him with a neutral, rather bored expression. I had learned rather quickly that Vox enjoyed drawing out my emotions, whether that be scared, frustrated, or even curious.

"It's nothing Alastor would care about," I said with a sigh, turning the page. "It's just a user guide. It doesn't talk about the mechanics of it at all."

"I'm surprised you're still reading it, then." He went back to his solar panel. There had been numerous guides and manuals Vox had provided that were practically useless to him, so he didn't ask me to translate them.

"It just...amazes me that our ancestors were able to create such incredible objects, but they weren't able to create anything on a large enough scale to save them. But then again," I flipped past two worn out pages, "the damage had already been done generations before."

"What do you mean?"

Something pleasant flickered in my chest. "Well, it wasn't just one big catastrophic event. The world had been slowly dying and society was just...a mess. No technological advancement could save a race that couldn't even come together to save itself. Their sense of community...it just wasn't there."

Vox was quiet for a moment. He had stopped working to look at me but my eyes were on the manual. It seemed his usual air of smugness and authority were amiss today. "I wasn't expecting an Archivist to have that spark. A spark like mine about...fixing the world."

I looked up, meeting his gaze that wasn't sharp or invasive, and saw an opportunity. "You mentioned before that you just started tinkering with Old World tech. What got you into it? Was it plain curiosity or something more?"

Vox saw right through my guise but, not to my surprise, went along with it. "Curiosity, sure. I mean you have to have it if you're going to spend hours in a metal box trying to fix broken things. But...it has always been something more."

I was silent so he would continue. I didn't even close the manual for fear of drawing his attention away from the memory.

"I lived on the outskirts of the community here. Back when it wasn't a city. I was...well, I didn't always get along with everyone. I tried but...I just wasn't interested in the things everyone else liked. I was always bored. Once I found Old World objects, not even tech necessarily, but just objects. Once I found those and started piecing Humanity's past together, nothing could interest me.

"And then...one day..." He took a breath and looked down at his device. "One day a storm caused a landslide. I don't remember why I wasn't at home but...my parents were. And they didn't make it."

The silence hung thickly in the air. I saw the way his fingers dug into his sleeve. Carefully, I said softly, "That must've been awful to experience."

"Yeah well...most people lose a parent or two when they're young. My neighbors took me in and tried to get me to eat but nothing worked. Then," he laughed to himself, "fucking Alastor came by with a radio. He said he found it and thought it might interest me. I hadn't found anything new in the past month so it was like candy. I started eating again and obsessed over that thing."

"So then...you're the inventor of the radio."

"Eh," he bobbed his hand in the air, "I didn't invent the thing but I did fix it. I learned about electricity and power but the thing was just static. A horrible constant noise of nothing. I thought I had botched it. But then...Alastor had gone out on one of his expeditions and said a community was using radios to talk to another community. It was the first one we absorbed since Lucifer came into power. I learned how the radios worked from those communities and we started building the radio towers.

"Alastor...he uh...well, he supported me," Vox continued. "He convinced Lucifer to let him build towers in regions we hadn't absorbed communities yet. He spread it so far out and...well, you know the rest." He began poking at the small wires again.

"So...Alastor saved you in a way."

Vox shrugged. "Eh. The radio was my first big project and I felt like I was actually contributing to the community again. He was there to convince Lucifer to start building the Technology District and...one thing led to another."

I was piecing bits of their history together in my big puzzle. "This whole district...you built it from the ground up?"

He casted a smile my way. "Quite literally. The communities we absorbed had their own little secrets that we learned. I learned how to mine for resources and how to melt them into something useful. It always amazed me what knowledge Humanity has managed to hold onto."

This city was fairly new, that much I had gathered, but it seemed like the kind that should've existed for generations. Somehow they had managed to do it in less than the span of my lifetime. And it all came from curiosity and survival. They had taken the information from smaller communities and put it to use for a greater good.

But no. I had seen glances of the workers in Vox's district. They were just that: workers. They didn't live or enjoy life. They were there as physical labor and I had a feeling that's where most communities ended up.

"Sounds like you and Alastor were close," I broached the topic carefully, "but not so much anymore."

He gave a dry chuckle. "I suppose you could say that. We were just two lost souls trying to make a difference in a world that didn't give a damn. But things changed. They always do. And this Old World tech? It never does. Everything's consistent and you just have to be willing to go the distance to piece it together."

"What uh...what happened between you two?"

Just like that, the walls went back up. He lolled his head to the side with a smile and said, "That's not a story for you, Archivist. Some things are better left buried."

Sensing the closed door, I decided not to push. I went back to the manual and flipped the page. "Thanks for telling me. About your parents and everything. I know...that it's difficult to keep living without them."

Silence hung over our heads, his eyes not yet leaving me. It felt like he was searching for something, or maybe for something else to say. In the end, he turned back to the solar panel with a simple, "You're welcome."

~*~

I wondered when Alastor would return. I was feeling a strange mix of emotions about it. On one hand, I hated being kept in a dark, damp place with no access to sunlight; and Vox made me feel on edge most of the time. On the other hand, I was nervous to go back to that stuffy attic and forced to play Alastor's mind games.

However, I still had at least a day left to prod Vox for information. He had given me far more information that Alastor ever let slip. Not to mention, translating the simple direction tags on old tech wasn't complex or unethical. He seemed pleased with my progress whereas Alastor was never satisfied.

He had explained that his stronghold was held within an Old World cargo ship. It instantly made sense how he came across so many random items and so much technology. At one point he let me wander around for awhile. I let my hands glide over the walls as I pictured men and women walking around to complete their tasks. To think we had once been able to sail huge bodies of water in metal boats.

"So, do you mind if I ask a question?" Vox asked at breakfast. We were sitting at an old table in a very old, metal room.

The fact that he asked me for permission made me wary, but curious. "Sure," I answered, not looking up from my plate. We were sitting in the kitchen and dining quarters of the ship. Eggs, bread, and cheese were the staple breakfast food in all districts. The leather of the comfy seat sank and tore at random places to reveal the ancient cushion that didn't quite work anymore.

"Alastor never struck me as the type to be kind to strangers. And yet rumor around the city is that you two shared a moment at your old bunker."

My hand stilled and I glanced up to meet his penetrating stare. It was rare for him to bring up Alastor directly, especially in a context that wasn't revolving around their hatred or competition for one another. It brought up the several moments Al and I had shared, but I stuffed those down. "He was different. Less of the Radio Demon, I suppose."

His lips curled into a smile as if I had confirmed something for him. "Really? More uh...more human maybe?"

I took a bite of eggs to push silence. Where was he trying to go with this? "Yeah. He was less intimidating because he was bleeding all over my floor."

He chuckled and leaned forward on the table. "It seems the time spent away from his radio and fans allowed him to drop his mask for once. You must've pulled out a side of him that very few actually get to see."

The eggs felt chewy in my mouth. There was something in the way Vox spoke that hinted at an ulterior motive. He was tricky, like Alastor, but a little more obvious about it. And yet, I still couldn't figure out what he was trying to get at.

"I don't really think that was another side of him. I think that was just a man who was a victim to circumstance. He nearly died, was sick because of it, and bored out of his mind."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, dear Archivist. Alastor has hit his lows before but he's never revealed a softer side. His walls are impenetrable. And yet...you managed to break through them."

I sighed and leaned back, placing my fork down. "What are you getting at, Vox?"

"You clearly have a talent for more than just books. You can soften even the hardest hearts and make them...connect with you through vulnerability."

I was growing more concerned with every word. He made it sound like I had manipulated Alastor, not the other way around; as if I was stringing him along with some hidden agenda.

"But Al refuses to see that," Vox went on. "He keeps burying those feelings and pushing you to the brink of insanity to prove you're nothing more than a pawn in his game."

My stared hardened. "What is your point?"

"My point—" he stood from his side of the table and sat right beside me, "—is that your worth is seen here. You've made incredible progress and answered so many of my dying questions. And I've seen the way you appreciate the Old World. So many people laugh at it and even pretend it didn't happen. But you..."

He placed his hand on top of mine and it took everything in me not to pull it free. "You appreciate it. Not just your books and their knowledge, but the things they've created. You appreciate my work, even if you don't want to admit it."

My throat was uncomfortably dry. My feet were rooted to the floor but my torso was leaning away from him. It was hard to hear his words over the sound of my heart drumming.

"You think you don't have a choice over your life, and Alastor has done well to make you think that, but...you do. You can choose to stay here. To work alongside me. The things you would translate...you would make this city come alive and pull the people out of poverty. And..."

His eyes went to our hands. He slowly moved up my arm, light as a feather, until he reached my shoulder, briefly removing it so he could tuck my hair behind my ear. I felt unnaturally hot.

"You could stay with someone who values your independence. Someone who could give you access to all the Old World information we've been collecting for years. Someone...who may feel just as lonely as you."

My mouth hung open, unable to form words. My limbs felt heavy and stuck in place. He was offering something dangerously close to freedom. I could play into it. The more I cooperated with him, the more freedom I would have. The more freedom I had, the easier it would be to make my escape. Maybe even with my archive.

And yet...there was a feeling I couldn't describe. A feeling that this...just wasn't right. A feeling that said I was being lured straight into a trap all decorated in gold and empty promises.

"Think about it," Vox said, as his hand trailed down my shoulder. He stood and left the room without another word.

I stared at the empty space where he had been. My heart wasn't slowing down. My blood felt cold and my skin scalding hot. I thought I was breaking out in hives from where he had touched me.

I fisted my shirt as I fought the rising panic. I pressed the pads of my fingers into the cold table and counted my breaths, goosebumps running along my arms.

This was bad. This was very bad.

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Author's Note:

Happy birthday Demi Demons! I wonder what's in store for us next time 😏

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