#Basic math and further math

[oifaaa]

When I was younger I used to get so pissed off by high-school aus specifically bc no matter where the original story takes place the au would always be set in an American high-school and American High schools confuse the hell out of me

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

Oh hi there transfem discussing her experience in the trans community i just had a quick question about your post

What does tme mean?

Oh okay i see i understand, thank you.

What does transmisogyny mean?

Ah I see, I get it.

What's a trans woman?

Oof scary. One last question.

What's a woman?

Thank you for being my own personal google (not like you had anything better to do right?) and derailing the point of your post for my own personal education. I will now add nothing of value to this post in return. Bye bye!

[asurrogateblog]

as a media psychology researcher 85% of my job is figuring out the most horrifically academic way to say "you idiots wouldn't last a day on tumblr"

[nickbutnodick]

i MIGHT survive public high school

[cloudlikeclownery]

revision strategy currently consists of taking a swig of alcohol after every completed question and stopping when i can no longer perform basic calculations. my algebra exam is Tomorrow.

[autistudyblr]

29/9

practiced drawing lots of trig graphs, & worked on some centre of mass problems!! they're pretty simple so far :)

i also helped out at my school's open evening for hours, so i'm a bit exhausted now

🎶 dead horse - hayley williams

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[mikuyuuss]

Lowkey I have a pet peeve for when people confuse architecture for engineering, and assume architecture students spend most of their time doing complex math and physics equations, because you couldn't be more wrong.

I only had like one physics class throughout majority of my 5+ years in that hellhole, and I only passed by cheating my way through it. We never really revisited physics again after that.

[gaybriar]

the way i am flirting with going back to uni

[bobacupcake]

ask from over on cohost that i wanted to crosspost over here!!

hi!!! i'm assuuuuming you're talking about the effect in this one?

i'm using something called parallax mapping!! i know most people know what parallax is and how it works in the realworld but im just gonna demonstrate it real quick just so i dont have to keep going "ok now imagine how parallax works"

so imagine you have two windows. in the middle of the window on the left, there is an Orb. it is directly in the middle of the window. the window on the right also has an Orb, but this one is pushed backwards outside the window quite a bit. now if you look at the two windows, and turn them, you get this:

for the first window, the Orb stays basically in the center of the window. but in the second window, if you turn the window right, the Orb "looks like" it's moving left

parallax mapping is essentially taking this assumption, that if you change the angle you are looking at an object, the further away an object is, the more it will move in the opposite direction. i will spare you on the matrix math involved but you can get the exact relation you need by getting the Tangent Space View Direction. you dont need to understand the math behind this to use it

so, lets go back to the window example, how would you make the same effect, but with just this 2d texture of the Orb?

what if, whenever the object it was attached to turned right, you just moved the texture to the left, by X amount, where X is how far into the window the orb is. you would essentially be cheating god and "faking" the parallax. it would look like it's moving like it's far out of the window, but really, it's still a 2d texture. it would look like this:

i was too lazy to make the shader and record another gif but i dont need to because functionally it would look almost identical because when you turn it right the Orb moves left

again, you can just Know the right direction to push the texture in based on the current angle by getting the Tangent Space View Direction. ok another example. what if you had a black and white noise texture, like this

now what would happen if, instead of moving the whole texture X amount. you moved each pixel a proportional amount based on how bright it is. a 100% black pixel would not get moved at all, and a 100% white pixel would get moved the furthest along the Tangent Space View Direction. a pixel thats right down the middle would move half that distance etc etc. well it would look something like this!!!

thaaat's the basics behind it!!! it's also used for effects like faking room interiors through windows with just a 2d texture in biig cityskapes and the like

you can see how the cube example looks kind of like an ice cube with the distortion, that's Not intentional and how parallax mapping artifacts. i do not care about it, because i make crystals. but some people do care about it, so you can use parallax occlusion mapping, which is like parallax mapping but a step up

here's some more reads on it if you are interested!!! https://simonschreibt.de/gat/windows-ac-row-ininite/ https://www.patreon.com/posts/playing-with-29753575 https://catlikecoding.com/unity/tutorials/rendering/part-20/ https://halisavakis.com/my-take-on-shaders-parallax-effect-part-i/

[princesssmars]

victoria with lab tech reader…nsfw.

when you were approached at your basic post-grad biomedical science research program with the opportunity to "study and develop a potentially groundbreaking medication", you immediately, but politely, called bullshit. but your boss and coworkers encouraged you once they heard the pay, so you accepted.

it was…challenging to say the least.

the lab and the workers were shady as hell, not telling you any details about the company you were working for, if you were even working for a company, what exactly this medication was for, etc etc. but the pay really was good, enough to help you splurge on yourself while also saving and paying off your student loans, so you couldn’t really complain.

after about two months of great work and progress on your tasks, the leads of your team told you that one of the head donors would like to “talk about utilizing your full potential”. you were expecting further praise for your work and maybe a pay boost, not to walk into an office with the super attractive congresswoman you’d seen on tv sitting at the desk.

she has just as much mysterious charisma as she had then, keeping eye contact as she pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before she places herself on top of the desk, pantsuit-covered leg only a few inches from yours. she gives you a mini rundown of why she personally picked you out from your university and she's been keeping a close eye on your personal progress to develop a cure for an unknown but deadly disease you had been keeping track of.

"so that's why im here? we're working on a disease?"

"yeah, you could say that."

her smile unnerves you but you don't mention it. nor do you bring up how weird it feels that a congresswoman would be following your manic studies over a disease that only ten thousand people in the world had. you do have to reel in your ego slightly, figuring this meant that your theories were legitimate.

things are weird after that. now that you have some more hints about what you are actually doing your work starts to move along slowly, even impressing your lead with the progress you started to make.

ok, maybe a tiny little part of it was so that when victoria came in on her weekly walk-throughs she'd observe your work and give you that pretty smile of hers, maybe even a 'great job, hun' if you were lucky.

as the weeks went by and the medication came along her affection only grew in intensity, from leaving coffee at your workstation to inviting you to take lunch breaks with her. it was odd and completely unprofessional, but when those slender fingers would move one of your stray hairs back in place while telling a story you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

but then it happens - that dreaded period in any medical science where just one stupid little thing stumps you for a week. you should be used to it at this point, having been through this process since you bought your first microscope in middle school. it doesn't make it any easier to power through though, especially when you know everyone on your team is depending on you to finish up your labs.

so now you've resorted to this, three red bulls and a heap of paperwork around you while you frantically rework the math on some of the work you need to turn in. you're a few minutes away from slumping over when a loud door slam forces you upright, looking to the entryway to make eye contact with victoria.

you dont know how it happens but you go from hunched over in your chair to lying on the comfy couch in her office, a short blanket draped over your body as you drowsily explain your conundrum to the older woman. she nods along the entire time, a soft hand rubbing up and down the bare expanse of your arm while she listens to your rambling.

'what on earth are you doing?' your brain asks yourself when you shift closer to her body that's sitting next to you, head delicately resting in her lap. 'are you really going to jeopardize your career like this?' when your eyes flutter when she runs her hand over your cheek and down your neck. she leans her head down ever so slowly until her lips are just barely pressing into yours, corners pulling up when she sees you arch your back in wait for her neck action.

"but you'll figure it out for me, won't you smart girl?"

you solved the problem the next morning.

i dont even wanna write for her GIVE HER BACK TO ME

[oceansblvds]

I SENT THE ASK ABT TEACHER CORYO IM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE TA/PROFESSOR SNOW 😝

OKOKOK IM GONNA WRITE SOME HEADCANONS BUT I MIGHT HONESTLY EXPAND THIS INTO A FULL FIC BC im a whore!

warning(s): nsfw, obsessive behavior, lowkey an abuse of power

coriolanus, almost out of university, was selected to teach a higher level math class on the account of dr. gaul saying he needed a little bit more experience with teaching and leadership if he was to be head gamemaker. so, he was a TA, teaching under a professor but was basically given full rein with the class, as the professor seemed to focus more on research than teaching the class. the second he was in the lecture discussion, he saw you walk in. you were a junior, just a year under him in university and god were you beautiful. almost mouth wateringly so. it made him sick in the head at how pretty you were.

and gods above, you were smart, almost as smart as he was (though he wouldn't ever admit that) and it was clear that you liked him. you always smiled when he complimented your high scores on tests and quizzes, and would read the notes that he put in the margins of your essays with a glimmer in your eyes. he needed to talk to you, needed to be closer to you, and the only way that he could think of was to give you slightly lower marks on your essays and homeworks. never on a test, he would never want to drop your grade low enough for it to be concerning, but he did wait for you to stumble into his office hours. and you did. you asked him how you could do better on the material, and he told you that he'd help you.

he didn't have an office, only a classroom that he was lent during his office hours in the top floor of the math building. it was there that you would meet him, every tuesday and thursday, to go over problems. he liked the way that your lip would be bitten in between your teeth when you were looking at a particularly hard problem, or when you would look at him with your big doe eyes when you asked him for help. and whenever you asked him for help, he would lean closer, and explain it to you.

one day, he finally got the courage to make a move. you asked him for help and he placed his hand on your thigh, as if he was using it to keep himself steady as he leaned over. but instead of watching him explain on the paper, you kept your attention on his face. and then he pushed his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, and you didn't stop him. your hand came to his and you pushed it up until it was cupping your pussy. he fingered you right then and there, hoping beyond hoping that no one else would walk into his office hours for help. the two of you made out while he fingered you, going as far as to press three fingers into you, with a squelching sound, your moans echoing through the room softly.

that became somewhat of a normal thing. you two always met during his office hours, until you decided to go to his home one day for some extra tutoring. it ended with you in his large bed with your legs spread, while he put his fingers in your mouth as he fucked you with such fervor that you were sure you were going to break.

sometimes when he was grading papers, you would slink under his desk and pull his cock out, spitting on the tip and bobbing your head up and down until he gave you the attention you wanted. he always fantasized about you doing this when he was teaching another class, with you working him with your mouth as he sat on his desk and no one else knew the wiser. he would have to try that with you one day.

lots of words like how dirty you were for sleeping with your teacher. "you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" "show me how good you've gotten" when you were riding him. "you probably fantasize about my cock in class, don't you?" it was all so derogatory. and other times he would praise you. he would tell you how smart and beautiful you were. he would let you cum when you got a problem right while he sat under the desk, eating you out. when you got a problem wrong, he would stop, and no amount of begging would get him to continue unless you continued your work.

[michibap]

hi!

first fic post, LOCK IN DUDE.

thinking about babygril jschlatt and his super cool hockey player!gf

college au ?

i’m off my ass and listening to brat rn so if this is just schizophrenic ramblings please just leave me in peace.

-Jschlatt likes his women bloody

-and i’m Serious

-the first time he saw you was after you’d been banished to the penalty box after roughing another player

-he’s in the seat next to it, and pays you no mind as you briskly skate up

-but jumps out of his skin at the sound of you whipping your helmet off at the window beside him and slamming the box door shut

-he turns to pound on the plexiglass and cuss you out but you are a VISION

-kinda sweaty, shaggy hair, ruddy cheeks, and looks that could kill as you very intensely watched the game continue without you

-and to top it all off is deep, cherry red dripping down your pretty, pretty features

-his trance breaks when a whistle blows and you’re grabbing your stick and getting back on the ice

-and you’re giving the strange spectator who was gawking at you your entire time in the box a nasty glare before pulling ur helmet on and shouldering open the door

-something about seeing u so aggressive on the ice gets him GOING

-especially if he learns you have a much calmer demeanor off the ice

-maybe the next monday u see him in your dreaded 8am math class

-exhausted, rocking bed head and your jammas, literally at your lowest

-and you catch his eyes for a moment, recognizing him as the strange spectator from your game

-and he knows u caught him looking and fuckignnn uhh

-GULP

-you end up sitting in the front corner of the opposite side of the room, pretending it didn’t happen

-literally not ur problem rn

-because of COURSE that weirdo freak was in your 8am math class

-he probably took it on purpose, fucking psycho

-as long as you continue to pretend he’s just another face in the crowd, he will very much continue to be a random face in the crowd

-and he’s scrolling through the weather app on his phone and it’s taking literally every bone in his body to not sneak glances at u

-literally HOW had he not noticed you until now???

-maybe it had to do with how you didn’t tower a good head over most the way you do in your skates while you’re wearing your beloved, worn down crocs

-but now that he’s gotten his first glimpse of you it’s like everything you do catches his eye

-from the way you run a hand through your hair and slump a little bit after the professor says a number with at least ten digits, and the different sitting positions you shift through every few minutes

-you hold yourself like an athlete and have the aura of nonchalant coolgirl basically

-maybe he has to tutor you bc if you get below a certain gpa you’re off the team

-which is so unfair because literally HOW are you expected to thrive in these conditions

-nearly all of your teammates have time to shower and nap after morning drills, only you and a few unlucky others were forced to walk right to class from the rink

-and tutoring is only a waste of time considering you have four other classes to juggle on top of it (you have a campus job too, but you only work like three hours a week and you’re usually on your phone the whole time so you don’t really count it)

-your terms are that as soon as your score in the class is a solid 10 points over passing, you can drop tutoring from ur schedule

-so you decide to lock the fuck in and fix the problem ASAP, deciding that if this has to be your problem, it’s gonna be this fuckass TA (who you've never seen)’s problem too

-so of course you book the maximum hours available for tutoring sessions per week for three weeks (the rest of the season?? gasp)

-and swear that if your grade doesn’t improve in time it’s the TA’s fault, and you’ll just grovel and whine to coach enough to not be put on the bench until further notice

-and of COURSE you show up to your first study session booked in the academic achievement center and

-low and behold,

-at the table is that fucking WEIRDO FREAK THAT SPAWNED INTO YOUR MATH CLASS LITERALLY TWO DAYS AGO

-you stand frozen a few feet away and stare for a moment

-taking a second to really marinate in the absolute cesspool the universe has thrown you into

-and decide it’s not that deep

-you don’t know this man.

-whatever.

-you carelessly throw your bag down and without a word, plop in the seat opposite to him, leaning back far enough that your chair teeters, so you hook your foot on a leg of the table to keep steady as you reach down for your bag, and rustle through your countless loose and crumbled papers for a scraggly notebook and mechanical pencil, before leaning back forward with a thud

-and schlatt is fucking sweating and bouncing his knee, he nearly begins to tap his pencil

-but he quickly stops himself when he realizes that most of the other students and staff in the collaboration office are staring at the two of you

-and good god

-you have the same douchey “i don’t give a fuck about this + also i’m better than you” air about you that most student athletes that come in for tutoring do

-you didn’t even bother taking your goddamn airpod out

-but good GOD he wants u so fuckign bad

-like fucking biting and gnawing his fist

-and to make it worse, you don’t even say anything to him

-you just place your supplies on the table and and give him an expectant look that still managed to still express how badly you wanted to be anywhere other than here

-so, after steeling himself with a quick sigh he jumps right into the spiel he gives everyone else

-introduces himself, and reminds you of the class that he’s tutoring you in, and dives right into everything you’re doing wrong

-arguably the most rewarding part of the job

-he even gets to have receipts

-he whips out ur latest exam and begins to go problem by problem explaining what you did wrong

- “you wrote the same exact answer for five problems”

- “and here you’re using formulas for a different exam, which is a bit strange seeing that all the necessary formulas are printed on literally every page”

- “you just wrote ‘idk my b’ for this one”

- “i’m not even sure what you did here, i’ve never seen that symbol before and i cannot think of a way would ever interact to result in…” he pauses and squints, “forty two thousand and sixty nine… point 0 equal sign, equal sign, three.” he raised a brow and looked at u over the rim of his glasses

-and u wanna return to the natural order and shove this nerd in a fucking locker like god intended

-bc WHY are you so embarassed

-tbf you didn’t really mean to let it get this bad, you just gave into your baser desires for nap time and a fun drink a few more times than you had expected

-you look away and run your hands over ur sweats

-maybe it was a little embarassing to not be good at something

-and you can’t really articulate how your brain literally just shuts off as soon as your professor opens his mouth you literally can’t help it

-and there is no way you’re saying that out loud, so

-“it’s hard out here.” you say with a shrug

-he scoffs and pushes your paper towards you, using his pencil to point out for you,

“for number sixteen, you drew a little frog with a wizard hat. are you like, even trying to pass?”

-he goes to point more out but you cannot bear to listen to this smug geek any longer

- “you think i don’t know this shit’s wrong? do you genuinely believe that i actually thought 69 was the correct answer for five questions in a row?”

you snag the old exam off of the table, flipping it back to the front page.

“I know it’s fuckin’ wrong. i didn’t come here to be told what im doing wrong. i came here to be shown how to do it right. so why don’t you stop wasting the time my tuition is fuckin’paying for.”

- yes ma’am 🫡

-he pulls out all of your exams from the course so far and suggested to start with what you’re not familiar with

-and after flipping through all of them you admit you don’t have a damn clue about what’s going on in this class, laughing a little bit at yourself

- “literally, how?” how he asked, incredulous

- “dude, last class was literally like, the…” you take a moment and count on your fingers and his fucking jaw drops lol,

“… fifth? class i’ve been to this semester”

-you laugh

-and he thinks you’re fucking insane, why are we not panicking?

-he’s lowkey panicking for you

-everyone calm down

-you get a little uncomfortable with how long the pause is

-and you’re giving him a mean look and

-is it hot in here?

-GOD DAMMIT

-he snaps out of it

“look, if you wanna *pass*, we’re gonna have to lock the fuck in. i don’t even want to promise you ten points above.”

-you’re like duh

-and he rolls his eyes and pulls up shit for the first unit and gives you the gist of it before giving you a set of practice problems he expected to be working on for the rest of the session

-you two quickly figure out that your problems consist of: a) iphone and b)nap time

-he looks down at the third correct sheet of practice problems and runs his hand down his face

- “so it’s looking like your problem is literally just showing up and paying attention, because you’re getting it.”

-across from him, you slump in your chair with a forlorn sigh

-a fate worse than death

-part of you was banking on it being a hopeless case so you could give up and never show face again

-BUT, the plan is to continue your study sessions together so you can catch up for the cumulative final

-and.,..,.

-j suggests u sit next to him in class, so you can whisper questions and he can make sure you actually pay attention

-which is literally going to be the fucking death of him

-because you show up literally right as class starts and shuffle past the other people in his row without apology before plopping next to him and pulling the same stunt with your bag that you did in the library

-and you smell sososo good, freshly showered after morning drills, so every time you shift he gets a waft of all of the products u use

-and your hair is fluffy and freshly towel dried and ur nose is a little red from the brutally cold walk over

-RMWOSNXIANXORWODNSOZ

-he distracts himself by looking at the notebook you seem to be very intently scribbling on

-and sees u haven’t used the fucking thing since september

-and you’re not even taking notes

-just little doodles up and down the margin, little animals and hearts and random squiggles

-which is arguably, adorable

-you flinch when he taps his pencil on your desk and gives you a pointed look, which you return with a sheepish smile

-maybe instead of whispering to him you write little notes back and forth, the both of your handwriting filling the page

-he has to stop himself from laughing at some of your almost incomprehensible scribbles

‘he’s literally the baldest man i’ve ever seen’

‘pay attention’

‘im distracted >:(‘

‘idc’

‘and i can’t see with the glare from his bald head blinding me’

he brings a hand up to try to wipe the smile off his face

‘stop.’

-he’ll occasionally snag your notebook to correct you and you don’t make a fuss like he expects, just taking it back to see what he wrote and nodding

-maybe he starts bringing an extra coffee from the dining hall

-you guys come across a topic you’re having a particularly hard time with

-but ofc it's one of the only days you two aren’t meeting bc you have practice during your usual meeting time

-so he offers to stop by and drop off some practice sheets, you tell him to just shove em in your bag, you’ll leave it on the bleachers so he won’t have to go into the locker room

-so obvi when he comes in he sees u

-and maybe you’re embarrassingly sweaty bc coach just made u skate suicides

-bc he’s the devil

-and you’re sitting on the bench with ur teammates and squeeze some water from ur fancy squeezy bottle on ur face as a desperate attempt to cool down

-and the door to the rink opens and all of ur teammates heads whip over

-and ur eyes go wide when you catch his eyes

-bc ofc the first thing he looks for is u

-you look away, pretending not to notice the teasing from your teammates

“is that your boyyfriend?”

“i fucking KNEW you were into nerds.”

“does the facial hair do it for you? its kinda doing it for me…”

-you land a particularly hard punch on your teammate’s shoulder for that one, before glancing over to see if j had been able to find your backpack

-and it seems like he didn’t even try, because he’s making a beeline for you

-he couldn’t help himself, he’s like a fucking sleeper agent, the minute he sees you he’s drawn in like a moth to a flame

-your brows pinch together and you get up to skate to meet him half way, ignoring the quiet giggling and whistling coming from your teammates

-and he sees you coming over and oh god oh fukc

-you come to a sudden halt in front of him, maybe showing off a little with a snow plow stop (hehehe)

-and with the combination of the added height of ur skates and the ice under you, he kind of has to crane his neck up to look at you

-and he *knows* his face is getting red and his mouth is hanging open dumbly, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat

-you bite back a smile

- “Hey.” you start, still a little out of breath

-he grips the papers hard enough that they crunch in his trembling hands

“You- uh, Hi. Here.” he thrusts the crumbled papers at you and you look from them to him with a strange look that morphs into a little smirk

“My bag is over there”, you use your stick to motion in the direction of where it should be, “like i told you it would be.”

“Right, shit. my bad.” he has to wrench his eyes away from u and he can hear your little huffy laugh

“No worries,” you hum

-He turns to walk away with an embarrassed shake of his head, grumbling to himself when he opens ur bag to find protein bar wrappers, crumbled papers, and all of the worksheets he's given you, completed (he notes with a little cheesy smile)

-he moves to put them in your bag as neatly as possible, and jumps out of his skin when he hears your voice again

“Hey!”

he flinches and looks over his shoulder to see you hanging over the barrier, looking for his attention

“I’ll see you around? I don’t think I can do those ones by myself…” you admit with a laugh

“Sure! Yeah, I’ll see you…” he looks down at his stupid electronic watch so he doesn’t combust from holding eye contact for too long, “Tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat, your brows coming together and your mouth opens like you’re about to say something else but coach blows the whistle and it snaps shut when you whip your head back to see your teammates getting back on the ice,

“Tomorrow.” you agree, straightening back up and headed back over to your team, calling a quick “Later!” over ur shoulder

“Later..” he repeats, a little quieter, with an awkward wave that he’s glad you didn’t see

-and you’re glad he doesn’t see the way your teammates descend upon you, punching your arm, grabbing ur shoulders and shaking them, all teasing

-he can’t help but glance over his shoulder as he pushes the door open, finding your face in the crowd, and his eyes go wide upon seeing you looking right back with a lil smile before grabbing one of ur teammate’s face masks and using it as leverage to push her away

————————————————————

okay, i’ve established u guys r in love, HEADCANON TIME YIPPEE

-over time he learns that you are Praise Motivated, suddenly perking up and listening attentively when he compliments your work

-blushing with an uncharacteristically shy smile when he tells you did a good job, or that he’s impressed/proud of you

-….. noted.

-u giving him ur jersey and insisting he wears it to ur next game and he’s a little confused but also very flattered

-he’d never been on the,,, receiving end before so he doesn’t really know how to act

-still shows up at ur next game wearing it, a little shy but nobody pays him any mind

-when you come on the ice he watches you scan the crowd before finding him, you don’t acknowledge him with anything other than a little smile to yourself and a nod

-just making sure his eyes are on you

(of course they are)

-very quietly and intently watches the game, a little nervy abt cheering bc he came on his own

-but he’s on his feet and shouting when he sees a player from the other team shove you

-excited cheering when you body check the fuck out of the same chick, pinning her to the plexiglass for the audience to see

-god he wishes that was him

-wait who said that

-teaching him how to skate and he is So Bad, you end up pushing him around the ice on a crate

-texting him to meet u outside the locker room after ur practice so the two of u can grab dinner and cram for the midterm tomorrow morning

J (hot nerd from class): i’m not at ur beck and call 🙄

🏒: oh ur not?

🏒: bc i can ask somebody else who will

J (hot nerd from class) : i’ll kill you

🏒: k.

-sharing fries that end up on the ground rather than in your tummies bc you end up throwing them at each other

-watching you DESTROY a burger, ravenous after ur game, with a lil smile

-going to his dorm after practice with the intention of studying but you end up just falling asleep on his twin size bed while he types away at his desk

“Jesus, would you chill? You’re literally punishing those fucking keys.”

“You are in my dorm.”

-waking up to the sun filtering through the window and pressed up against the wall by the large, warm mass behind you and a heavy arm wrapped around ur torso (maybe a hand sneaking under the hem of ur shirt)

-you sit up and he grumbles, shifting to accommodate your new position, nuzzling his head into the side of your thigh now that you’re seated upright, rather than in the crook of your neck the way it was when you were both horizontal

-you run an apologetic hand through his hair and he releases a deep sigh, hand coming out to pull you closer

-but u catch a glimpse of the digital alarm clock with a sharp gasp and OH FUCK

-you are ACTIVELY MISSING MORNING DRILLS

-and coach WILL have your ASS

-you hurtle yourself out of bed, bringing him to the floor with you and he awakens with a shout as he falls from the raised twin xl

-he’s rubbing his eyes and groans as you frantically pull on your clothes for practice and gather your things

-you’re about to leave but you pause in the doorway and turn to face him

-he’s dragged himself off the floor and is standing in the middle of the room, sleepily glaring at u

-you turn and grab the collar of his shirt to pull him into a quick kiss

-bc u know if it’s any longer than you’ll be lulled back in bc he’s still so warm from being asleep and his hair is all messy and he’s looking down at u with bleary eyes and all he wants is to drag ur ass back to bed with him

-but you push away before he has the chance to lock you in and scamper out the door

-getting all dressed up for team banquets together, he’s flustered as all hell because he only really sees you in your gear or dressed like adam sandler

-you’re already a little shyer than usual, feeling out or ur element, and it brutally clashes with how sth about u in a dress has made your usually reserved bf (who is dressed in a very sharp suit) very handsy

-snapping ur fingers to break him out of it when u catching him staring for too long

-blushing when instead of being guilty for getting caught he gives you a cheesy grin and squeezes ur waist

he leans down to mutter in your ear

“don’t know what else you expected, doll, you know i can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

-smacking his chest with a huff and stalking off

-does not help ur case, bc as much as he hates to see u leave good LORDT he loves to watch u go

-during off season u make him come to the gym with u, even if it’s just to watch

-u blame it on needing a spotter but u and him both know it’s only bc u think the way he goes bright red while he watches u bend over in front of him to pick up weights is v funny

-but there’s nothing like u after a game

-still in ur gear, flushed with sweat sticking ur hair to ur forehead, a lil bloody from when your lip was cut by ur teeth after catching a stray while you were trying to separate your teammate from a player on the opposing team

-him rushing the ice along with the other spectators when u win the game

-and you’re wiping gatorade out of your eyes, pushing away the excited hands of your teammates while your eyes scan the ice, looking for him

-and he’s waiting for u on the outskirts of the crowd with a bouquet of crushed flowers and an ecstatic grin

-you have an elated smile of your own, interrupting his congratulations by grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him in hard enough for a kiss that your teeth click, still a little rough with the adrenaline of the game

-and it tastes like gatorade and iron and sweat and *you*

-‘nd he smiles and pushes into it

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

alright that’s all i have for u folks. if you’ve made it this far, ty. i’m taking requests btw

[skeletinmoss]

Hey! I have an art request, if your okay with it! It might be a bit iffy cause I noticed you don't often draw two characters in one image or backgrounds but, I hope it being Prinxiety can even that out a little bit!

Basically I have this idea but I don't wanna subject it to my art skills, so requesting it is! What I'm thinking is a fantasy AU Virgil and Roman. Roman's a prince naturally, and Virgil is a vampire who lives in an abandoned castle in the woods. Virgil and Roman have a secret relationship going on and so sneak out to see eachother! I kinda wanna see Virgil sneaking into Roman's room through the balcony at night, think the scene in alladin!

I don't mind if it takes a while but I have my math exam on monday and I'm expecting to be in distress so I kinda need some Prinxiety happiness to look at! It's still fine if you can't or don't wanna do it though, just if you don't please answer this ask to let me know.

Oh, also! Upon further inpection of this blog I've realised I'm currently reading one of your fics! (Raven Poetry) been loving it so far!

Hope it's worth waiting for. I had a great time working on it. It looked stunning even before I added the atmosphere, just gorgeous. I love it so much

[max1461]

only tangentially related but sometimes I wonder if survivorship bias makes us view modern art as less than older art, that time and cultural memory acts as a natural bullshit filter, that actually people were just as vapid and pretentious back then, but none of the vapid and pretentious work had enough cultural value stick around to be examined now

I think it's partly this, but it's partly something else.

This is probably gonna piss a lot of people off, but I think in a particular sense, contemporary art is just... straightforwardly more advanced than older art. I know, I know, but hear me out: I don't mean that as a value judgement. What I mean is like...

Ok, take math as an example. Math started out talking about things that everybody's heard of: triangles, circles, whole numbers. But as those concepts were better understood, they got abstracted more and more. Symmetries of shapes where abstracted to symmetry groups, numbers abstracted to rings and fields, eventually it was all abstracted to category theory, and so on. And now if you look at major research topics in modern math, things like e.g. the Langlands program, as a non-expert, it often looks like a bunch of fucking nonsense about bullshit objects that don't have anything to do with the real world! But even though I don't understand the Langlands program itself, I know enough math to understand why all the levels of abstraction that I have understood are meaningful and valuable, and I can see why going even further would be too. And math is useful enough that the results often speak for themselves.

So I think contemporary art is much like this. If you read contemporary art theory, you will immediately see that it is all very meta. Art used to be made about very concrete things—people and nice looking vistas and so on—that anyone could understand. And then theorists came along and built up frameworks for thinking about art, because they wanted to understand why that art worked, why it was powerful and emotive. And then new, avant-garde artist came along and made art about the frameworks, pushing at their edge-cases or exploring their unintuitive implications. And then new frameworks were built up to understand that art, rinse and repeat. This account is, as I understand it, a little bit ahistorical—the building and the pushing of frameworks was often simultaneous and often not clearly articulated. Although, frankly, the same could be said for the history of math. But in retrospect I think a pretty undeniable picture emerges.

So, to put it bluntly, I think one of the reasons so much contemporary art looks vapid is that it isn't for you. It's about things you've never heard of, in the same way that category theory is about spaces and morphisms, and explaining that to someone who's never heard of groups or topological spaces is basically impossible. And I think there are some differences—art is obviously, you know, totally vibes based in a way that math isn't. If a big wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it or whatever doesn't speak to you then it doesn't speak to you, no one can defend it on "objective" grounds. And art isn't useful in the way that math is, so it doesn't demonstrate its validity to people who don't get it in any way. But what I wish people understood is that there are people, who know a bunch of art theory and art history, who that wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it does speak to. It makes them go "oh, I love how it plays off of X and contrasts with Y" etc. etc. And that isn't going to happen for you because, like, you don't know what X or Y even are! But that doesn't make it valueless, it just makes it insular. Which, you know, contemporary art really is! I think there are a lot of contemporary artists who claim to not be doing what I just described, who claim to be making art "for everybody", but I think if you read their artist statements and stuff it often becomes pretty clear that this is not the case. And this is a valid criticism of contemporary art! But "vapid" is mostly not.

Pretentious, definitely. It's pretentious as fuck.

[kremlin]

i figure most human behaviour that, not only doesn’t occur in other animals but has zero connection to animal behavior is basically distantly rooted in the known fear of inevitable death. let me be clear. cats and shit don’t know they’re gonna die. we do. we have thoughts. we know it’s coming. we think we’re gonna be rich, bullshit like that, most humans believe in magic and most humans doubt that math is a universal or consistent thing. total nonsense right. but everyone knows their ass is gonna die. before you write me off as some dumbass reciting basic 101 level university lectures just Trust Me I’m An Engineer. anyways. being human and dying are somewhat one in the same.

“if i do nonhuman things i can cheat the reaper.” short and sweet. if i can beat zelda faster than anyone i can outrun the reaper. and you know what, fuck it, i’m scared shitless of dying. it’s gonna hurt really bad no doubt. what if the brain destroyal process makes time slow down in my perception and it’s not just like five seconds of bleeding out or fire ant bites or however you go. Scary. so i’ll play along:

i am an average american man and i enjoy bad game runescape. it’s a computer game. MMO. kill monster get loot. sell what i don’t want to other players for gold. spamming chat with “SELLING BOWSTRINGS 200gp” for an hour “sucks” so the devs add a grand exchange where you can post buy/sell orders for a given item+price to maximize gameplay efficiency and minimize social interaction.

like any other MMO you can pay some sketchy website real money for ingame gold farmer by chinese gold farmers. totally against the rules. remember this

so the first thing that comes to any male aged 23-27 mind is “buy low sell high” basic bitch shit. no good. there’s a 5% tax that’ll wipe out your profit margin intended to eliminate this behavior (you’re supposed to friggen kill monsters). but everyone thinks they’re a genius and can beat the system and that there is a secret george soros style illuminati group that is holding the secrets, blah blah blah, whatever, and this comes as a coping mechanism after losing your shirt after trying to beat the market (success rate of 0%).

here is where people mostly quit thinking: if you do the math, which takes about ten minutes and can be done on one side of a sheet of paper with the most basic calculator, it’s easy to figure out that the amount of gold you’d need to play dirty (buy out all the available Feathers or Fire Runes or whatever) in order to corner the market would be so high that there is no possible way for a character to hold that much without having spent IRL money for gold. you’d get autobanned.

SO..finally, go on the ol’ www.reddit.com, and make a really really professional-to-professional sounding post advertising a “service”. Saturate the fuck out of it with dense but very real financial jargon. the “service” (which needs to be obscured enough with plausible and relevant language) is a hedging service aimed at make-believe market players who are buying and selling such huge amounts of items and gold (usually in anticipation of a game update that will speculatively introduce a sudden, dramatic, and capitalizable price change for some item). you need it to be as alien-sounding and foreign as possible but with enough believability and clarity that a handful of reddit jackasses will figure out what the fuck your post is about. whenever pressed further, act totally puzzled and make it very clear that this is not a service relevant to “individual entertainment-motivated” players or some shit. no matter what amount of gold anyone quotes at you, just act puzzled and if that amount is 1/1000th the amount one of your “normal” clients deal with. you need to do all of this extremely artfully. and by “you”, i’ve been meaning to write “me”. really lay it on thick that whatever you’re “doing” is totally unavailable to them and that you want zero to do with them.

so now theyre still mostly totally confused but enough is made clear that their interest is piqued. got my hook in em. some guy will copy/paste wikipedia shit in an obnoxiously long and pseudointellectual, contemptible but characteristically reddit guy style what you’re “selling” actually is in the most exhausting, hand-holdingest way to his fellow reddit gamers. with complete tone of authority.

inevitably one of them will put on their sherlock holmes hat and go deep undercover, emailing me posing as an interested party. bingo. now i get to really lay on the WTF and go off the rails asking about vouchers from One Of The Big Seven, but oh no, you can’t get one of them to vouch for you, that’s fine, it makes sense, we’re the only firm that deals with unvouched, that’s our market, well, one of them at least. Just give me a rough rundown of your entry criteria, dwell time, risk tolerance, fuckin “Gamma Ratio”, you know, all the basic stuff, and i’ll have the team generate a .xlsx for you to plug your data into to get a rough feel for what the final contract might be like.

(lololol) But REMEMBER, that excel sheet is seeded, output is fuzzed and salted and if you share it or try and sell it to our competitors, it will be fuzzy enough to be worthless to them but obvious to us who leaked what. this is the only way we’re able to integrate unvouched clients without untenable premiums and while managing our risk levels

blah blah blah blah, i go on and on and on and the guy on the other end is developing a scab from constant head-scratching. and that’s about the maximum real-world harm i’m willing to inflict. i know this sounds like an elaborate as fuck confidence scam but it isn’t. that shit makes me sick. i’d literally slam my arms in a car door before taking a cent from all this. hell, i’ll go out of my way to guarantee i don’t even piss anyone off or offend them or anything.

your guess is as good as mine but i do stuff like this constantly for anything i know well enough and the example i gave above is just a pretty low quality one i made up on the spot. this is a public blog after all.

anyways, cheers, hoping this saves me from dying or whatever the hell i was talking about before that could have probably been cut out. Namaste. Mahala.