#patterns and algebra

[nemfrog]

An algebraic equation yields a modernist shape. Plane algebraic curves. 1920.

Internet Archive

[leonardomanaloto]

Blaise Pascal (born June 19, 1623, Clermont-Ferrand, France—died August 19, 1662, Paris)

a French mathematician, physicist, religious philosopher, and master of prose.

Pascal's Triangle

A pascal's triangle is a triangular pattern of numbers where each row starts and ends with a 1, while the inner numbers are the sum of the two numbers directly above them. This idea is commonly applied in probability, combinatorics, and algebra.

[raddest-laddest]

not me actually thinking i was done with math 😭

[mathhombre]

Visual Patterns Generator

I'm going to do some near array number talks with 3rd graders, so got it in my head to make this GeoGebra. You can set the total functions and a width function.

So what are the functions for the top pattern and the one below?

See visualpatterns.org for Fawn Nguyen's motherlode.

This is probably the one I'll do with the 3rd graders.

[conjectureand-gloom]

i feel so bad for complaining about struggling with maths when i’ve struggled with it my whole life and everyone else has it so much worse :D

[titan-god-helios]

I AM A GOD SUCK MY ASS ALGEBRA

[nineoftoads]

learned how to make and reference variables in solidworks today 😎

[shroomsnail]

"set yourself realistic goals!" blablablablabla its midnight and ive firmly decided that i will code in R a crochet pattern maker specifically chart type despite knowing fuckall about coding and if its even doable and no one can fucken stop me

[youthguk]

📚queen of the fall | jjk (m)

rating: 🔞 MINORS DNI

pairing: Professor!Jungkook x Student!Reader

genre: smut, academia, degradation, manipulation

warnings:  dumbification kink, dubcon, manipulation, professor/student relationship, degradation, spanking, slapping (face & ass), choking, orgasm control, praise kink, punishment, use of red pen, extremely questionable academia, use of "good girl" / "fucktoy", very little plot, no protection, power imbalance, do not romanticize in real life

words: 2,4 k

summary: you're a straight-A student that begins to spiral under the control of her dangerously young math professor. As your grades slip, so does your mind

author’s note: this one was requested , never written something like this before🖤 feedback is very welcomed

You were never the type to fail.

Top of your class since high school. Internships. Dean’s list. Professors who praised your essays and peers who hated how easily you could dissect theories and build arguments like cathedrals. You were the kind of student others envied—except in his class.

Professor Jeon.

Linear Algebra.

The first red pen to ever slash across your papers like a wound.

He never raised his voice. Never humiliated you in front of others. Just circled your errors in delicate ink and left quiet notes in the margins that felt like whispers against your neck.

"You’re overthinking. Again."

"Try feeling the pattern instead of solving it."

Try feeling math? What the hell did that even mean?

But now you’re in his office after hours, because you “need help,” and he didn’t even look surprised when you asked. Just told you to close the door and sit down.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

And now the chalkboard is full, your mind is spinning, and he’s standing behind you with a voice like velvet and fingertips that brush your wrist when you make a mistake.

"Tell me again," Jungkook murmurs, voice low, warm against your ear. "What’s the integral of x squared?"

You swallow. Stare at the board. Blink hard. You know this. You do.

But his hand is resting on your thigh now—firm and slow, thumb stroking circles just beneath your skirt like it has every right to be there.

"I…" You bite your lip. Try again. "Um. Three—no. Wait. Two x… cubed?"

He chuckles—quiet, amused. “That’s not even a number.”

You flinch. “I’m trying—”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off gently, like he’s scolding a pet. “You’re not here to think. Not anymore.”

Your breath catches as he leans down, lips grazing your jaw.

“You’re here to learn how to obey,” he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. “To let go of that precious brain and let me fill it with something useful.”

His hand moves higher, and your thoughts slip lower, your thighs already pressing together, desperate and dizzy.

“See,” he whispers, “this is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A reason to stop trying so hard. To just be soft. Pretty. Good.”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“That’s right,” he coos. “No more pressure. No more pretending to understand. Just say what I tell you to say.”

You nod helplessly.

“Say you’re my dumb little student.”

“I’m—” Your throat burns with shame. With heat. “I’m your dumb little student.”

“Good girl,” he growls, hand sliding under your panties now. “Let’s see how many times I have to fuck the thoughts out of you before you finally get it right.”

✧

"You’re not stupid," he murmurs behind you. His palm rests on the back of your chair, caging you in without touching your skin. "You’re just overwhelmed. That little brain of yours is working too hard."

Your breath catches. You’re not sure when you stopped actually reading the equation on the board. You just hear him—feel him—too close, too much.

"Let me help," Jungkook says, and his hand slides to your shoulder, warm and steady. Then lower. Tracing down your arm, your wrist, until he reaches your pencil and plucks it from your fingers. "No more thinking. Just listen."

He sets the pencil aside. Both hands find your waist now. The chair squeaks faintly as he pulls you back—gently, like you’re something fragile. Your spine grazes his chest, and you can feel him already—hard, thick, pressed right against the curve of your ass.

"You’ve been trying so hard to keep up, haven’t you?" he murmurs into your hair. "Fighting so hard to stay the smartest girl in the room." His hand slips under your skirt, finding your thigh. "And for what?"

You gasp when his fingers find the damp patch of your panties. He laughs under his breath, like he’s not surprised at all.

"This is what you really needed," he growls, dragging the fabric aside. "Not another lecture. Not another textbook."

Two fingers slip inside you, slow and filthy.

"This."

You moan. Helpless. Disarmed.

"That brain’s melting already, isn’t it?" he whispers, thrusting them deeper. "Feels good to stop pretending. To just take what I give you."

You nod, trembling, words failing. He pulls out and drags your slick across your clit, lazy and cruel.

"Say it," he demands, low and dark. "Say you want to be dumb for me."

You gasp, try to resist the shame, but it’s already too late. "I—I want to be dumb for you."

He smiles like a sin rewarded. "Good girl."

He undoes his belt slowly, the clink of metal loud in the quiet room. You brace your hands on the edge of the desk, legs trembling.

And then he slides inside you in one sharp thrust—deep, ruthless, perfect. You cry out, back arching, nails scraping the wood.

"That’s it," he growls, gripping your hips, fucking into you like he owns every inch. "No more answers. No more formulas. Just moan. Just take it."

You do.

You forget everything.

And when he leans over you, lips at your ear, thrusts brutal and steady, he whispers your new lesson like a prayer:

"You don’t have to think anymore. Not when I can do it for you."

✧

You sit in the second row now. Not the front—you can’t handle the front. Not with the way your thighs still ache from the way he gripped them, from the hours you spent bent over his desk, learning with your body what your mind had refused to retain.

Your notebook lies open in front of you, but the lines blur. Your pen hasn’t moved in ten minutes.

Every time he speaks, your core clenches.

Jungkook’s voice has always been deep. Calm. Measured. But now you hear other things in it—how he growled when you moaned too loud, how he told you to open your legs wider, baby, you don’t need to be shy now, how he laughed when you lost the ability to count.

Your cheeks flush hot. You look down, try to take notes, try to focus.

But your hand shakes. You write the number 7 backward. You don’t even notice until you hear it:

"Interesting answer," he says, loud enough for only you to hear. "Didn’t realize we were working in reverse math today."

Your head jerks up.

He’s watching you.

Expression unreadable. Mouth curved just slightly, like he’s in on a joke no one else in the room could begin to understand. Like your body still belongs to him, even from fifteen feet away.

You flush deeper. Try to speak. Fail.

He turns back to the board.

"Moving on."

But you can’t move on. You’re soaked beneath your skirt. You haven’t been able to sit properly all morning. And every time he glances your way, you wonder if he’s remembering how you sounded when you begged him not to stop.

“I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll stop thinking, just please—”

The worst part?

You meant it.

You still do.

✧

It’s a Wednesday. Rain against the windows. Half the class grumbling into coffee cups.

But not you.

You’re already trembling—because he walks in holding a stack of papers.

"Pop quiz," Jungkook announces, tone casual, almost bored. "Ten minutes. No calculators."

A ripple of groans moves through the room.

But his eyes find yours—and stick.

Ten minutes later, you’re staring at the third question. It’s written in a format you’ve never seen before. The numbers twist in on themselves like a dare. You know he wrote it for you. Just for you. Something impossible.

Your pulse pounds between your legs instead of your ears.

You circle a wrong answer. Deliberately.

You don’t even finish the rest.

And when he collects the pages, his fingers brush yours for one fraction of a second. His eyes stay cold.

But later that night, a message hits your phone:

My office. 9 PM. Wear something easy to take off.

✧

The door slams shut behind you, but he doesn’t greet you.

Doesn’t even look at you.

Professor Jeon sits at his desk, sleeves rolled, shirt half-unbuttoned, reading through a thick stack of papers like you’re not even there.

You stand in silence. Hands trembling.

"Skirt off," he says, eyes still on the page. “Now.”

You obey. Slowly. Silently. Shame curling in your belly like a fist.

"Panties too."

They fall to your ankles.

Finally, he looks up.

His gaze is cold. Calculating. Void of the teasing affection you used to cling to.

"You think you’re clever?” he asks. “You think I don’t notice when a straight-A student suddenly forgets how to multiply?”

You flush. “I just—”

“Don’t lie.” He stands.

One second you’re trembling by the desk—then your chest slams against the cold surface as he bends you over it, face pressed to the wood. A stack of graded quizzes topples to the floor.

“You’re a liar and a failure,” Jungkook growls. “But at least one of those finally turns you on.”

He slaps your ass—hard. The sound cracks through the room like thunder.

You yelp, tears springing to your eyes.

Another slap. Then another.

“You think being dumb is cute now? Think it makes me want to coddle you?”

His belt comes next. You hear the hiss of it through the loops before you feel it lash across your thighs—fast, sharp, cruel.

You cry out.

He groans darkly behind you. “That’s what I want to hear. Real failure.”

You try to twist away—instinct—but his hand pins you down by the back of your neck.

"You wanna be used like the idiot you’re pretending to be?" he growls, grinding his cock against your ass through his slacks. "Then stay still."

He doesn’t prep you. Doesn’t ease you in. He fucks into you like he owns the space between your legs—like it exists onlyfor him.

And the worst part?

He’s right. You sob. Moan. Grind back. Each thrust is brutal. Precise. Designed to punish. Designed to teach.

"Bet you can't even remember your own name now, can you?"

You shake your head, breathless, drooling, wrecked.

"That’s what I thought."

He grabs a red pen from the desk, presses it to your spine.

"Let’s see if I can mark you better than the quiz."

He draws down your back. Arrows. Symbols. Maybe even equations—who knows? Your brain has shut down. You’re nothing now but body and heat and shame and him.

And when you come—loud, broken, stupid—you don’t even realize you’re sobbing out numbers between gasps.

Wrong ones.

And he lets you.

Your cheek sticks to the wood, breath fogging the polished surface. Your skirt is still bunched around your hips. His cum leaks down the inside of your thigh.

You don’t move.

Can’t.

Your mind is a puddle. Your limbs useless. And behind you, you hear him sit back down like nothing happened.

Chair creaks. Pages rustle.

He’s grading.

You blink, slow and dizzy. One red mark bleeds through a paper beside your face, but you can’t even read the words. Can’t think. Your vision swims.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you.

He hums softly under his breath, pen tapping in rhythm. “Another one missed the matrix inversion. Pathetic,” he mutters. “Not even close.”

You whimper—pathetic in your own right—but he doesn’t react.

Only when a droplet hits the paper beside you—tear or sweat, you’re not sure—does he pause. Just for a beat.

“You’re still here?” he says, voice low, not even mocking. Just bored.

You try to push yourself up. Legs shake. Arms give.

He finally looks at you, then—just a flick of his eyes.

Not pity.

Possession.

"Leave your panties on the chair,” he says. “And don’t bother studying for the next quiz. You’ll fail it, too."

You nod.

You don’t even try to wipe your face.

You just do as you're told.

✧

He doesn’t let you speak.

Doesn’t let you step fully inside.

Just grabs your arm the moment you enter, slams the door shut, and presses your back to it. His mouth finds your throat, his hand slides straight up your skirt, and his fingers plunge inside without a word.

“You’re leaking before I’ve even touched you properly,” he mutters, lips dragging over your jaw. “Did failing get you wet again?”

You nod, dizzy. Dripping. Gone.

He pulls away. Just long enough to slap you—once—across the face.

Not hard enough to hurt. But hard enough to stun.

Your lips part in shock.

“You don’t nod when I ask you something,” he growls. “You answer.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “It— it made me wet. I’m sorry—”

“You’re not sorry.” He shoves two fingers into your mouth. “But you will be.”

Then he flips you around again—face to the door, skirt around your waist—and fucks you right there, standing. One hand around your throat. The other still holding your last quiz.

He reads it aloud between thrusts.

“‘Let A be an n by n matrix...’ Jesus. You didn’t even try. Didn’t even attempt the determinant.”

You moan—loud, raw.

“You like being stupid for me that much?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Please—please use me—”

“Oh, I will.”

He drops the paper. Tightens his grip.

“From now on, you come here after every quiz you fail,” he growls. “And you will fail them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“You’re not a student anymore.”

He thrusts deeper.

“You’re a fucktoy with a GPA.”

.

.

 if you enjoy my writing, you can support me here and get early access to chapters and exclusive stories 🖤

♡ 

send requests for drabbles and one-shots here

[shivunin]

You can't tell me this isn't satisfying

I'm sure it's says something about my current state of mind that my folder of fun ao3 number screenshots is really getting me through today

[is-the-sky-blue]

OVERWHELMED: GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Fluff, satosugu x reader, reader is called mom, papa satoru, dad suguru

You were overwhelmed.

The warm steam from the pot below you wafted up to your face, the obnoxious low rumble of the range hood sucking up the air as to not let your smoke alarm go off, yet again. The curry bubbled and you stirred the mixture of carrots and potatoes, leisurely. "Mom," it was a troubled call, you turned, facing the long haired child perched in a chair at the table behind you, her brown eyes glassy as she stared at the textbook in front of her.

You were quick to lower the heat, tapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot before settling it down on the handles, placing the glass lid atop the stainless steel before shuffling over to her, fluffy socks adorned with a strawberry pattern, given to you as a little surprise from an ordinary grocery run, protecting your feet from the cool tile. "Tsumiki honey, what's wrong," you coo, taking a seat in the chair next to her, the girl's lips pouted in frustration as she pinched her brows.

"I dunno how to do this," she points, pencil led prodding at the textbook pages scrawled in graphite, loitered with jokes and absurd comments that your dear girl would never do, knowing that this, probably twelfth generation textbook's drawings, were presents from students past. It was a math question, simple algebra that she was only introduced to yesterday in class, and your ever keen student was quick to do her homework on Saturday as to not stress out tomorrow, as her Papa promised to take them all out on a fun day trip.

"Let me take a look," you murmur gently, offering a smile to try and quell her irritation as you stared at the notebook pages, neat handwriting full of numbers interrupted as she tried to answer question 6c, smudges of pencil rubbed away by eraser staining the paper and you reevaluate the problem, carefully repeating it onto the sheet. "This one is quite tough," you nod, hoping to show that her struggle was valid, "but basically you have to-" you start, ready to walk her through the steps to find an answer when yet another call drew your attention away.

"Mom!" this time it was a wail.

"Just a second baby," you pat the girl's hair, "I'll be right back," you promise, getting up from the cushioned seat to step towards the living room, crying children hidden behind the couch, as the open concept layout usually allowed you to see all your kids at once.

You spot the two twins, eyes glassy as Mimiko held a doll tight in her grasp, body shifted away from her sister as Nanako crossed her pudgy arms over her chest, tearful glare directed towards the former.

"What's wrong," you murmur, sore muscles slightly protesting as you pulled into a crouch assessing the situation. Your usually two well behaved girls who generally got along with one another were fighting for the nth time today. They were having a rough time, both irritated, grumpy and getting on each other's nerves consistently on this somber Saturday

"Mimiko won't share," Nanako cries, rubbing harshly at her puffy cheeks as salt rivers stain her face, falling in large droplets. You are quick to tenderly grasp her hands, careful touches wiping away the dew. You turn to face Mimiko, knuckles turning pale with the death drip she had on the pink haired doll.

"You two have loads of dolls though," you try to reason, plucking up a different toy, presenting it to the red faced girl.

"But I want that one," she sobs, hiccupping and you tried not to sigh too loud.

"Mimiko," you call, the child pursing her lips as she turned her body away in defiance.

"I want a turn," she huffs when you don't retract your scolding gaze, "Nanako's been playin all day wif her," she shakes the pink haired toy, glittery strands catching light and you don't know what to do. Nanako was crying because Mimiko had stolen the toy, and you knew the girl had been politely asking all day just to be denied.

It wasn't right that she took it, you know that, but it also wasn't right that Nanako hasn't been sharing. You didn't want to just take the doll away completely, even if a nagging voice said that a mere threat wouldn't hurt, but the high percentage that it'd leave both girls' crying already gave you a headache.

They were just tired. Bad dreams plaguing them last night, preventing them from sleep, they needed a nap but wouldn't settle down for one, not even after being cradled and read to. No matter how many picture books you pulled out, or if you just tucked them into their beds, neither agreed to your plan and now it was too late, settling for a nap now would only result in the inability to rest when it was actually bed time.

You bit your lip, their lack of sleep also resulting in your lack of sleep, achy limbs tired as you shut your heavy fatigue ridden eye lids as bawling tears continued to drip, "Nana-" you were about to start only to be interrupted yet again.

"Mom," it was raspy this time and you heed the call, facing a sleepy Megumi, his face florid as sweat beaded on his forehead, duvet you wrapped him in trailing along the hardwood floors as he pulled it onto his shoulders. His spiky hair was slightly matted, eyes a little red, nose running. 

"Megumi" you coo, your sick boy padding to walk into your arms, falling into your embrace eagerly as he nuzzled into your neck, his cold nose making you slightly cringe as he burned up in your grasp, fever overheating his tiny figure.

"m'sorry," he begins and you don't want to question what happened as you wrapped the blanket tighter around his little form, "I missed the bucket," he confessed, his fingers timidly grabbing at your sleeve, toying with the fabric and you knew what he meant, the little stomach bug beating up his organs had made you gift him a plastic container for all his vomit. "I didn't mean too," his voice wavers, you could feel your shirt begin to grow damp but all you could do was hold him tighter.

"It's okay," you try to keep the irritation ebbing away at you from your tone.

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

They all needed you, tears falling down fast as different anxieties permeated your house, home full of grief as they each battled with different problems. Tsumiki struggling with her homework, Mimiko and Nanako bickering yet again over something trivial but huge in their little world, while Megumi tried to fight off a sickness but was currently losing, and you trying to grapple every thing, your sanity quickly slipping as their sadness poured into you, the tired little smiles you kept up slowly fading away as you could feel your own anxieties claw up your throat.

All your children were crying, frustrated wails, and you were barely keeping it together, clutching your son tightly as you tried not to fall into a pit of tears yourself.

You were overwhelmed.

Overloaded with tasks and duties, you had to help Tsumiki finish her school work, settle this doll dilemma, clean up the little mess Megumi made and still finish up dinner. Your list was all consuming, trying to drown you as your house shook, trembled.

Your family was having a rough day.

Everyone was troubled and you-

You couldn't do it all.

You barely registered it, chaos consuming your leaden muscles as you did your best to organize your frantic thoughts, but when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder the tension in your chest, weighing down on you eased. "Let us handle it from here love," a sweet murmur, his dark hair was messy, result of a tough day at work but he was quick to roll up his sleeves, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, soothing your berating mind and you could only nod, brain refusing to process an argument as he turned to the two twins.

"C'mere Megumi," your white haired counterpart now next to you, reaching out for the duvet coddled boy who merely nuzzled further into your grasp at the call and you can't help but keep him close, quicksand sinking limbs finding their way to cuddle him even further.

"It's okay Toru," your voice is laced with a slow molasses, tired dribbles as you mumble, blinking your stinging eyes, retreating tears falling back from your waterline, "can you just," and you bite your tongue, feeling a strange quiver form in your throat as an inexplicable lump formed, but he's cupping your face, squishing the fat of your cheek with his easy going toothy grin, pink lips parting to let an ever loving smile shine affectionately at your drained visage.

"Can do!" and he's popping to his feet, knowing your sentence without your words, upbeat aura exterminating the lingering gloom that held heavy in a foggy cloud from the ceiling. His call of Tsumiki's name is kind before he's taking the seat next to her, getting to work and slowly your growing checklist of tasks melted, shredding into tiny little strips as they rips apart the paper, taking a chunk to handle by themselves.

Your knees audibly crack as you stand, his warm cheek in the cove of your neck as he put up no fight to slump in your hold. "Let's get you a bath, yeah Gumi," you hum, body gently rocking as you pad down the hallway and towards the bathroom, light flickering on with a warm glow to paint the white tiles.

"M'sorry," he's murmuring again as you set him down, guilt ridden eyes swathed with remorse as you slowly began to fill the tub, squirting out some of the soap from a half-empty bottle of bubble bath, watching as white foam slowly floated to the surface, "I-I'll do better," he sniffles.

"You don't need to be sorry baby," you brush the strands of hair sticking to his forehead away, heat emanating from the slick sweat of his skin, dampening your fingertips as you gingerly peel the blanket off his body, pang of pity hitting your heart as he shuddered, "you didn't do it on purpose," you hum, "and all you need to do for me is drink lots of water, get tons of rest and get back to your strong and healthy self, okay my Gumi bear," you smile, watching the boy cringe at your little nickname.

"Don't call me that," he whines, voice nasally as you help him take off his clothes before settling him inside the water filled tub.

"Why not," you tease, turning off the tap but he could only puff out his chest, no reason coming to mind as he submerged his body into the water, steam slowly relieving his congested pathways.

"I- It's embarrassing," he tries and you coo with a sly little smile. 

"Are you embarrassed of me," you purse your lips in faux pain.

"That's not what I said," he rasps out, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumps his back against the porcelain, defeated.

"Mhm I see how it is," you sigh dramatically, snickering at his pout before you lean to boop his nose. "Will you be okay on your own," you ask the boy, observing as he picked up a cloud of soap and squashed it between his palms.

"Mhm," he nodded and you grin, giving him an affectionate rustle of the hair before grabbing the slightly soiled clothing, lingering smell of vomit and sweat clinging to the fabric of his pajamas as you stepped outside the bathroom, leaving the door open just a smidge as you padded towards Megumi's bedroom, the door wide open, readying yourself to untuck his bedsheets only to find his mattress already bare.

"It's in the wash," he murmured against the shell of your ear and you lean into his warmth, resting your head on Suguru's lowered shoulder, "do you need me to take that too," and his hands are quick to take the clothing from your grasp.

You simply shut your eyes for a moment, listening to his breathing, "thank you," you hum out when you blink open, whirling around on your toes to face him.

"It's no problem baby," and he's pressing yet another calming kiss to your forehead, easing the worries that had begun to clamber up your chest, "you should go take a break, I can finish giving Megumi a bath," he murmurs against your skin but you shake your head as he pulls away.

"No, I can do it," you affirmed, the worried look in his gaze doing little to force your hand, "I want to do it," you reiterated and his shoulder's slumped as he acquiesced, letting you have your way yet again.

"If you say so," he's sighing, "but let me know if you need anything, alright, you've already done a lot today, don't push yourself pretty," and he's kissing your cheek this time, flashing you an understanding smile but you are quick to peck at grinning lips, withdrawing much too early for his liking.

"I won't," you reassure, patting his arm, urging him to go and he chuckles, retreating back to the laundry room as you go to grab another set of pajamas for Megumi to wear.

Your heart felt a little lighter, the happy sounds of an understanding Tsumuki echoing down the hallway before she was sharing a high-five with Satoru, a resounding, elating smack reverberating as you take a small peek down the hall, her once pinched brows no longer furrowed with stress as your white haired partner thoroughly explained the topic in a way she could understand, patiently answering all her questions and kindly nudging her along the right path whenever she made a mistake. The sight had you smiling, there were no tears, no yelling, the image much unlike your childhood, her ability to even ask for help showing you that you must be doing something right, after all you didn't want her to face the same struggle you had when it came for asking your parents for any kind of assistance.

Turning back to the bathroom you nudge the door ajar with your hip, spotting your little spiky haired boy with a rubber duck in his hand, pushing it along the water and he's quick to stare at you, meeting your gaze as you plop the fresh clothing onto the counter. "Mom," he calls and the word no longer burdened you with such despair as it had moments ago, of course you loved your title, the very words being attached to you giving you an indescribably joy as your little found family discovered comfort in you as a mother figure, but you couldn't deny that a few moments ago the very call of that label had you broiling with stress.

"Yes love," you hum, quick to pull the stool over, sitting near the edge as Megumi glanced up at you, bubbles staining his fingertips.

"Will Papa still take me on the trip tomorrow," he sniffles, dry eyes blinking up at you with worry.

"Of course he will Gumi," you reach a hand out, petting his hair before cupping his warm face between your palms.

"W-What happens if I don't feel good tomorrow too," he whimpers, eyes going glassy as his lips pull into a pout and you could feel a little tremor shake your heart, small fracture nicking away at it as you pressed a tender kiss to his scalp.

"Then we'll reschedule it baby, okay," you murmur, staring into his heartbroken gaze, "it'll be alright."

"But I don't wanna ruin it," he mumbles so quietly, guilt ebbing away.

"Honey you won't ruin anything," you assure, "no one is leaving you behind, and no one will be sad if we can't go tomorrow, besides it wouldn't be fun if you weren't there." 

"Promise."

"I promise my love," and you interlock your pinky with his, rubbing away a stray tear that managed to fall, "now how about we get you dressed and back to bed," you offer, a gentle smile accompanying your words and he grins, nodding.

You were quick, drying the boy before pulling the dog themed shirt on his head, helping his arms through the fabric before tugging it down. "Cozy," you muse, fingers lightly tying the drawstrings of his fuzzy pants.

"Mhm," he hums, fast to find solace in your embrace as you carefully adjust him to settle on your hip, standing up. You survey the bathroom, empty tub still slightly foamy along the edges, drain covered in bubbles that you didn't focus on, preoccupied with dressing the sickly boy, the blanket he had dragged around, abandoned on the floor, crumpled in a corner, the floor slightly imprinted with wet footsteps.

You purse your lips, rubbing small circles onto his back as his face burrowed into the crook of your neck, dark hair tickling the skin but you pay no mind, occupied with your disinterest on cleaning the space, you had left a slight mess.

Shutting your eyes you sighed, maybe you could just pretend it wasn't there for a moment, you tried to offer yourself, turning to head towards Megumi's bedroom only to spot that his bed was still bare and you were soon painfully aware that both pairs of bedsheets you had used for his bed were now soiled and in the wash, the first set vomited upon in the morning when he had felt the brunt of his ailment clawing at his stomach.

You could feel irritation clamber up your limbs, leaving an unsettling itch in your bones as you push your weight onto your toes before rocking back onto your heels, uncertainty bubbling beneath your skin as your frazzled brain wracked for a solution. "He can sleep in our room for a little while," and the bubbles faded into nothing, heat of the element reduced to zero in an instant as your unsettled waters no longer even simmered.

His hand is on Megumi's forehead, checking the little boy's temperature while the other lay relaxed on your hip, leaving an assuring squeeze, "do you want me to take you Megs," Satoru offers, knowing full well he'd be denied, and rejected he was, the boy merely clinging to you tighter with a pout.

"It's fine Toru," you hum, his hands slightly fixing your hair before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Alrighty then," he snickers, and you barely have to turn your head to know he and Megumi were sticking their tongues out at each other, "I'll go clean up the washroom then," and he shifts his focus to you.

"No that's alright, you should go rela-"

"I should be saying that to you pretty," he quirks a grin, cutting you off, "now go on," and he's shooing you away, hands on your shoulders before lightly ushering you out, "let me work," he tsks, opening the door, letting you walk into your shared bedroom before quickly scampering off with a cartoony whistled song.

You can't fight off your smile before shuffling towards the messily made bed, the rumple of sheets a painful reminder of your inability to focus this morning, waking up to sobs, the idea of making the bed no longer at the forefront of your brain, and it still wasn't. You collapse onto the mattress, lightly tackling Megumi beneath your body.

"Get off me," he giggles, squirming, fists pushing at your shoulders.

"What, you don't want my love," you gasp dramatically, peppering kisses over his face until he's shoving you away, hoarse voice laughing as he wriggles, crawling towards the head of the bed but you grab his ankle, "don't make me fight you," you tease, pulling him back, his happy little shriek of, 'let me go,' making you grin before you lift him into your arms, wrapping around him tight before squeezing him, planting one last firm peck to his cheek, his happy face lessening all your lingering unease before pulling the both of you beneath the covers.

"You're silly mom," he's snickering.

"Oh really," you laugh, resting his head upon the pillow, laying on your side as he puts his hand onto your face, pudgy fingers squeezing at your cheek, contorting your facial expressions, "I think you're pretty silly," you muse, reaching out to smush his face, his lips puckering as you forced him to look like a fish.

"Nuh uh," he huffs pulling away from your grasp before using both his hands to try and force your face the same way, and he's giggling.

"Nuh uh," you mock, "what do you mean nuh uh," you tease lightly tickling at his sides.

"Nuh uh," he shrieks again, squirming before burrowing into your embrace, putting an end to your attack as he cuddled close and you couldn't help but reciprocate. "Mom," he's calling again.

"Yes," you coo, running your fingers through his hair.

"Can we go see a T-rex." 

"Hmm," you raise a brow, "where'd that come from," you ask, slightly perturbed by his out of the blue question.

"Yuji told me at school that his papa took him to see T-rex bones."

"Oh, is that so," you coo, rhythmically patting his back, "we can go to the museum and see dinosaurs together when you're all better."

"With Tsumiki and Mimiko and Nanako."

"Of course, we'll take Tsumiki, Mimiko, Nanako, Dad and Papa," you grin, "so make sure to get lots of sleep and drink lots of water, okay."

"Okay," he's murmuring and despite his prior burst of energy his eyes were closing.

"Goodnight," your kiss his scalp, gently rocking his body and even though he drifted off you continued to lay there, weary limbs finally relaxing.

"Wake up love," you don't even remember falling asleep.

You blink your eyes open, "You need to eat." 

"Hmm," you groan as you stirred, staring at both their figures and you suddenly realize your arm's no longer hold the weight of a child, "where'd Megumi go."

"Asleep in his own room," Suguru coos, helping you sit up, thumb running over the apple of your cheek.

"What time is it," you ask eyes trying to adjust to the bright light of the digital clock on the bedside table. 

"9:30ish," Satoru grins, taking a seat next to you, "the kids are already in bed."

"Why didn't you wake me up," you yawn, leaning your weight onto Satoru, "I could've helped."

"You've already done so much today," Suguru sighs and you hum into his touch, "wanted to let you rest."

"M'sorry," you murmur, suddenly feeling ashamed.

"Why are you apologizing love, we are the ones who should say sorry," and Suguru is settling down onto your other side.

"We left you home alone to take care of all of them, it must've been tiring," Satoru is holding your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

"You had to go to work, it's fine."

"Regardless," Suguru tacks on, "but you did a good job today," he praises and you find yourself melting, lip wobbling.

"No I didn't," and a surge of sadness washes over you, your emotions taking over, "y-you came home and everyone was crying, I was going to cry too, and, and I didn't know what to do."

"That's okay my love," and Suguru is pulling you into his arms, "you did your best."

"But still."

"Baby it's hard looking after four kids by yourself, you did amazing, it was just a rough day," and Satoru is kissing your forehead, "we should've come home earlier but even without us you did great."

"I should've been able to handle it."

"You did handle it."

"I got overwhelmed."

"And that's okay," Suguru assures once more, "it's a lot of work and it's normal to feel that way, that's why we're here, okay baby, it's not your job to look after all of them on your own, we're a team, you can depend on us," he continues, soothing your anxieties, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

"My pretty girl had a long day," Satoru coos, lightly pinching your cheek, cracking a coy smile, "let's go eat yeah, I'll warm dinner up again," he grins, reaching for you, carefully picking you up. 

"I can walk," you protest, your arms snaking around his neck as he slid his arms beneath your bottom.

"And I can carry you," he sing songs, padding towards the door while Suguru quietly shushes him.

You were overwhelmed but Satoru and Suguru were quick to help you out.

[catsushinyakajima]

Voltron characters as algebraic expressions/distributions:

PIDGE: the binomial distribution

Binomial distributions display probabilities for a set number of binary trials (only two choices) within an experiment. I feel like this represents her because of her experimental nature as well as the two choices she was faced with in s1: saving the universe or leaving to save matt and her dad.

LANCE: sine function

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE WAVES!! Bro is smooth and bro swings both ways. Also, a sine wave is a periodic function, meaning it repeats the same pattern again and again. This can represent how while Lance is moving forward, he feels like is isn't growing or isn't more, but is rather stuck, bouncing between highs and lows.

KEITH: cosecant function

cosecant functions are the reciprocals of sin function (csc=1/sin), so this shows how Keith "reflects" or mirrors Lance. Additionally, the periods of csc functions start at positive or negative infinity and then stray towards the origin, but never quite reach it. This represents how Keith is so far away, and how everytime he comes back he leaves again, and how "home" always feels out of reach for him (csc function approaches horizontal asymptote but never truly gets there)

ALLURA: exponential function

The exponential function starts at an infintessimally small value that is nearly zero, and then rises drastically. The "flatter" values of the graph represent her comatose, and the sudden increase of values reflect her increased power, fight, and drive. It continues to increase forever, which I think can represent her death in canon. She transcends a barrier that the others cannot reach.

CORAN: uniform distribution

MY BOY Coran is the most unwavering support ever. The key aspect of a uniform distribution is that it is always the same value wherever it exists. It doesn't change or shift, just like how Coran has always, ALWAYS been able to constantly be there for the team and the universe.

HUNK: step function

While canon does him dirty, Hunk rises in both confidence and skill throughout the show. He's very methodic and is also a backbone to the team, which is why I gave him a function that's broken so evenly and is still rising. He is the type of character who climbs up. Also, I first used step functions in an engineering class!

SHIRO: hyperbolic function

OMG YALL ALR KNOW!! Not all hyperbolic functions map this way fyi, but THESE particular ones are sooooo Shiro. There is two parts of the graph, one positive and one negative. They never touch but they mirror each other identically and they're mapped by the same function. This represents Kuron and Shiro. They're both made from the same DNA, appear identical, but they have different minds and goals (the same way both parts of this function approach different values as x approaches infinity!)

[physicallyimprobable]

what's the 3-dimensional number thing?

Well I'm glad you asked! For those confused, this is referring to my claim that "my favorite multiplication equation is 3 × 5 = 15 because it's the reason you can't make a three-dimensional number system" from back in this post. Now, this is gonna be a bit of a journey, so buckle up.

Part One: Numbers in Space

First of all, what do I mean by a three-dimensional number system? We say that the complex numbers are two-dimensional, and that the quaternions are four-dimensional, but what do we mean by these things? There's a few potential answers to this question, but for our purposes we'll take the following narrative:

Complex numbers can be written in the form (a+bi), where a and b are real numbers. For the variable-averse, this just means we have things like (3+6i) and (5-2i) and (-8+3i). Some amount of "units" (that is, ones), and some amount of i's.

Most people are happy to stop here and say "well, there's two numbers that you're using, so that's two dimensions, ho hum". I think that's underselling it, though, since there's something nontrivial and super cool happening here. See, each complex number has an "absolute value", which is its distance from zero. If you imagine "3+6i" to mean "three meters East and six meters North", then the distance to that point will be 6.708 meters. We say the absolute value of (3+6i), which is written like |3+6i|, is equal to 6.708. Similarly, interpreting "5-2i" to mean "five meters East and two meters South" we get that |5-2i| = 5.385.

The neat thing about this is that absolute values multiply really nicely. For example, the two numbers above multiply to give (3+6i) × (5-2i) = (27+24i) which has a length of 36.124. What's impressive is that this length is the product of our original lengths: 36.124 = 6.708 × 5.385. (Okay technically this is not true due to rounding but for the full values it is true.)

This is what we're going to say is necessary to for a number system to accurately represent a space. You need the numbers to have lengths corresponding to actual lengths in space, and you need those lengths to be "multiplicative", which just means it does the thing we just saw. (That is, when you multiply two numbers, their lengths are multiplied as well.)

There's still of course the question of what "actual lengths in space" means, but we can just use the usual Euclidean method of measurement. So, |3+6i| = √(3²+6²) and |5-2i| = √(5²+2²). This extends directly to the quaternions, which are written as (a+bi+cj+dk) for real numbers a, b, c, d. (Don't worry about what j and k mean if you don't know; it turns out not to really matter here.) The length of the quaternion 4+3i-7j+4k can be calculated like |4+3i-7j+4k| = √(4²+3²+7²+4²) = 9.486 and similarly for other points in "four-dimensional space". These are the kinds of number systems we're looking for.

[To be explicit, for those who know the words: What we are looking for is a vector algebra over the real numbers with a prescribed basis under which the Euclidean norm is multiplicative and the integer lattice forms a subring.]

Part Two: Sums of Squares

Now for something completely different. Have you ever thought about which numbers are the sum of two perfect squares? Thirteen works, for example, since 13 = 3² + 2². So does thirty-two, since 32 = 4² + 4². The squares themselves also work, since zero exists: 49 = 7² + 0². But there are some numbers, like three and six, which can't be written as a sum of two squares no matter how hard you try. (It's pretty easy to check this yourself; there aren't too many possibilities.)

Are there any patterns to which numbers are a sum of two squares and which are not? Yeah, loads. We're going to look at a particularly interesting one: Let's say a number is "S2" if it's a sum of two squares. (This thing where you just kinda invent new terminology for your situation is common in math. "S2" should be thought of as an adjective, like "orange" or "alphabetical".) Then here's the neat thing: If two numbers are S2 then their product is S2 as well.

Let's see a few small examples. We have 2 = 1² + 1², so we say that 2 is S2. Similarly 4 = 2² + 0² is S2. Then 2 × 4, that is to say, 8, should be S2 as well. Indeed, 8 = 2² + 2².

Another, slightly less trivial example. We've seen that 13 and 32 are both S2. Then their product, 416, should also be S2. Lo and behold, 416 = 20² + 4², so indeed it is S2.

How do we know this will always work? The simplest way, as long as you've already internalized the bit from Part 1 about absolute values, is to think about the norms of complex numbers. A norm is, quite simply, the square of the corresponding distance. (Okay yes it can also mean different things in other contexts, but for our purposes that's what a norm is.) The norm is written with double bars, so ‖3+6i‖ = 45 and ‖5-2i‖ = 29 and ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90.

One thing to notice is that if your starting numbers are whole numbers then the norm will also be a whole number. In fact, because of how we've defined lengths, the norm is just the sum of the squares of the real-number bits. So, any S2 number can be turned into a norm of a complex number: 13 can be written as ‖3+2i‖, 32 can be written as ‖4+4i‖, and 49 can be written as ‖7+0i‖.

The other thing to notice is that, since the absolute value is multiplicative, the norm is also multiplicative. That is to say, for example, ‖(3+6i) × (5-2i)‖ = ‖3+6i‖ × ‖5-2i‖. It's pretty simple to prove that this will work with any numbers you choose.

But lo, gaze upon what happens when we combine these two facts together! Consider the two S2 values 13 and 32 from before. Because of the first fact, we can write the product 13 × 32 in terms of norms: 13 × 32 = ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖. So far so good. Then, using the second fact, we can pull the product into the norms: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖(3+2i) × (4+4i)‖. Huzzah! Now, if we write out the multiplication as (3+2i) × (4+4i) = (4+20i), we can get a more natural looking norm equation: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖4+20i‖ and finally, all we need to do is evaluate the norms to get our product! (3² + 2²) × (4² + 4²) = (4² + 20²)

The cool thing is that this works no matter what your starting numbers are. 218 = 13² + 7² and 292 = 16² + 6², so we can follow the chain to get 218 × 292 = ‖13+7i‖ × ‖16+6i‖ = ‖(13+7i) × (16+6i)‖ = ‖166+190i‖ = 166² + 190² and indeed you can check that both extremes are equal to 63,656. No matter which two S2 numbers you start with, if you know the squares that make them up, you can use this process to find squares that add to their product. That is to say, the product of two S2 numbers is S2.

Part Four: Why do we skip three?

Now we have all the ingredients we need for our cute little proof soup! First, let's hop to the quaternions and their norm. As you should hopefully remember, quaternions have four terms (some number of units, some number of i's, some number of j's, and some number of k's), so a quaternion norm will be a sum of four squares. For example, ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90 means 90 = 4² + 3² + 7² + 4².

Since we referred to sums of two squares as S2, let's say the sums of four squares are S4. 90 is S4 because it can be written as we did above. Similarly, 7 is S4 because 7 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 1², and 22 is S4 because 22 = 4² + 2² + 1² + 1². We are of course still allowed to use zeros; 6 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 0² is S4, as is our friend 13 = 3² + 2² + 0² + 0².

The same fact from the S2 numbers still applies here: since 7 is S4 and 6 is S4, we know that 42 (the product of 7 and 6) is S4. Indeed, after a bit of fiddling I've found that 42 = 6² + 4² + 1² + 1². I don't need to do that fiddling, however, if I happen to be able to calculate quaternions! All I need to do is follow the chain, just like before: 7 × 6 = ‖2+i+j+k‖ × ‖2+i+j‖ = ‖(2+i+j+k) × (2+i+j)‖ = ‖2+3i+5j+2k‖ = 2² + 3² + 5² + 2². This is a different solution than the one I found earlier, but that's fine! As long as there's even one solution, 42 will be S4. Using the same logic, it should be clear that the product of any two S4 numbers is an S4 number.

Now, what goes wrong with three dimensions? Well, as you might have guessed, it has to do with S3 numbers, that is, numbers which can be written as a sum of three squares. If we had any three-dimensional number system, we'd be able to use the strategy we're now familiar with to prove that any product of S3 numbers is an S3 number. This would be fine, except, well…

3 × 5 = 15.

Why is this bad? See, 3 = 1² + 1² + 1² and 5 = 2² + 1² + 0², so both 3 and 5 are S3. However, you can check without too much trouble that 15 is not S3; no matter how hard you try, you can't write 15 as a sum of three squares.

And, well, that's it. The bucket has been kicked, the nails are in the coffin. You cannot make a three-dimensional number system with the kind of nice norm that the complex numbers and quaternions have. Even if someone comes to you excitedly, claiming to have figured it out, you can just toss them through these steps: • First, ask what the basis is. Complex numbers use 1 and i; quaternions use 1, i, j, and k. Let's say they answer with p, q, and r. • Second, ask them to multiply (p+q+r) by (2p+q). • Finally, well. If their system works, the resulting number should give you three numbers whose squares add to 15. Since that can't happen, you've shown that the norm is not actually multiplicative; their system doesn't capture the geometry of three dimensions.

[janmisali]

the "what number comes next?" problem

here's a sequence of numbers:

3198, 11, 734, 11, 1115, 11, 1440...

can you guess what number comes next?

that's right, it's another eleven! but what comes after that?

well, in this case it happens to be 1936. can you figure out the pattern? how far into the sequence could you predict?

this is a pretty hard problem, and in the most general form (I give you any sequence of numbers and ask you what number comes next) there's literally no way to solve it perfectly. the possibilities are endless!

but just because something is impossible to do perfectly doesn't mean you can't try. in the sequence at the start of the post, even though there was no guarantee that there's another eleven next, there's a sense in which that's the most "sensible" continuation, the one that follows the pattern most closely.

here's another sequence:

24794, 24794, 24794, 24794, 24794, 24794...

wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that the next number is another 24794? you might even be able to use some fancy statistical model to specify exactly how confident you are that the next number is another 24794.

but of course, without knowing the underlying meta-pattern that generates these patterns, there's no real reason to assume that any one pattern will be more likely than another.

so what if instead of just showing you one sequence of numbers, I showed you a lot of sequences of numbers? is there is a method of discovering this meta-pattern, assuming one exists?

the answer is, sorta! it depends on how many examples you're given and on how chaotic the underlying meta-pattern is.

so, you know how when you have a bunch of data plotted on a graph you can find the "best-fit line"? the closer the data is to being a line in the first place, the better this approximation will work.

defining a line only uses two parameters (mx+b), but the thing is that if you make a more complicated function with more parameters to play around with (as long as you're clever about it), you can define a relatively-simple mathematical equation that gets arbitrarily close to any data, no matter how messy that data is! you can just keep adding more parameters until you have enough to model the complexity of the given data.

now, the more parameters you have the more expensive it is computationally to find what configuration of all the parameters gets your fancy approximation as close to the data as possible (there are some linear algebra and calculus tricks that help!), but depending on the application, you can use this sort of method to get good-enough approximations to whatever data it is that you want to model!

however, this doesn't mean you've actually found the underlying meta-pattern. it's just a fancier version of looking at data you've already seen and drawing lines between points to interpolate between things. any approximation made this way will be in a sense "smoother" than what it's modeling, always predicting (for this application) that the next number in the sequence is the "average" in some sense of all the things that could come next, gravitating towards the most default and "boring" patterns.

anyway that's how chatgpt works

[angelholic1]

Study session ⋆.･࿔*:

⤷ Your a brat. A spoiled one who thinks you can do what you please, this bothers rin and he wants to fix that attitude of yours

pairing : rin itoshi x fem reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ

warning(s) : ooc? not edited, brat taming? idk lol

Rin had been tutoring you for almost three weeks now, and already, you knew just how to get under his skin. He wasn’t easy to manipulate, hell, you barely even had a chance to make him react the way you wanted. He was a straight-laced, studious guy with a sharp, almost dismissive air about him. But there was something about the way he barely tolerated your presence that made the challenge so much sweeter. You lived for attention. And Rin, though he might act like he didn’t care, had all of yours.

Today, though, you weren’t going to be as obvious. You’d let him think you were trying, at least, at first.

You showed up early to his tutoring session, looking perfectly put together in a cute outfit. His gaze flickered over you as you sat down, not bothering to hide the slight roll of his eyes. You leaned back in your chair, feet crossed at the ankles, as you waited for him to get his notebook out.

He didn’t even ask if you were prepared. He knew you weren’t. You never were.

“Do you even want to pass this class?” he asked, his voice flat as he flipped through his notes.

You rolled your eyes, exaggerated for effect. “Obviously,” you muttered, twirling your pen in your fingers. “But you make it so boring. You don’t even try to make this fun.”

Rin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes piercing and intense, before moving his gaze back to the paper in front of him.

“I’m here to teach you, not entertain you.”

“You’re no fun, Rinnie.” You pouted, letting your voice drop to a teasing tone, leaning forward so your chest barely brushed the table.

The way his jaw clenched told you everything you needed to know. Rin Itoshi was not the type to give in to temptation. Not the type to show weakness.

“Focus,” Rin said again, voice stern. “You’ve always distracted. We’re doing algebra today. Start with the first problem.”

You glanced at the worksheet he handed you, pretending to care, but your mind was already on other things. He sat across from you, looking so goddamn serious, his expression unreadable except for the occasional furrow of his brow.

He was everything you loved to toy with.

“Rinnie, do you ever loosen up? You’re so uptight. You must be miserable all the time,” you said sweetly, but your eyes were narrowed, studying his reaction.

Rin didn’t respond immediately, instead tapping his pen against the table in a rhythmic pattern. It was a game for him too. He was letting you test him, seeing how far you’d push.

“Maybe I like being miserable,” he replied, his voice cool, unbothered.

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, sure you do. You really are a hardass, huh? No one’s ever gotten to you before, right?”

“I think I’m here to help you get through your class, so you can pass.” His eyes flickered toward your sheet, the first sign of real focus on his part. “Which, for the record, is still a complete mess.”

You watched him, his neat, precise movements, the way he didn’t even break a sweat when he corrected your mistakes. You hated how damn good he was at everything. But what you hated even more?

How silent he was. How he didn’t try to bait you, didn’t react when you leaned over his shoulder and purposely brushed your lips against his ear as you “fixed” your mistakes.

You hated that he wasn’t fazed.

“I’m doing the best I can,” you said with a fake pout, leaning closer again. This time, your hand brushed his wrist. “It’s just so hard with you staring at me like that.”

Rin glanced at you, his eyes briefly hardening. He didn’t like how you made it seem so intentional, how you knew what you were doing. It irritated him in ways he couldn’t quite articulate. You were throwing him off his game, and he didn’t like that.

“You’re not trying,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he was gritting his teeth. “And I’m not here to babysit you. If you don’t care about this class, I’m not wasting my time.”

The harshness in his tone sent a small thrill through you. He was losing control. Finally.

You leaned forward again, smiling this time, genuine—no teasing, no sarcasm.

“Then I guess we’ll just see how long it takes before you can’t stand me anymore, huh?”

Now Rin wasn’t the kind of person who lost his temper easily during school or tutoring. He wasn’t prone to yelling or emotional outbursts. But you? You were different. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever encountered before. You didn’t just flirt or tease, you tested him. Pushed him to the edge, always trying to get a rise out of him, and it was starting to wear on him more than he cared to admit.

You were bratty. Spoiled. You knew exactly what buttons to push to make him uncomfortable, to make him react. And somehow, it was working.

But Rin wasn’t one to back down, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let you think you could walk all over him.

“Do you ever listen? Focus,” he snapped, his voice sharper than before as he handed you the next set of problems. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with your games anymore. “I’m not here for no reason. If you keep wasting my time, I’ll walk out of this room. You can fail the class for all I care.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking as you leaned back in your chair again, arms crossed. “You’re really serious about this whole ‘tutor’ thing, aren’t you? Lighten up, Rinnie. It’s just math.”

“No, you’re not serious about this. You haven’t even tried to learn. You’re wasting both of our time,” Rin shot back, his voice colder now, more distant, like a wall coming up between you.

It didn’t faze you. In fact, it made you smile even more.

“You must be fun at parties. You need to relax, you know? You’ve been staring at me all day,” you purred, leaning forward again, just close enough that you could feel his body tense up, the subtle way his muscles tightened. “Maybe if you weren’t so uptight, I’d actually want to learn.”

His eyes narrowed. This time, there was no smirk on his lips. No amusement. Just a quiet, simmering frustration.

“Do you think that’s going to work?” Rin asked, his voice dangerously calm now, as he set his pen down and leaned in toward you, his gaze never leaving your face. “Because it’s not.”

You were taken aback for a moment. There was a slight shift in his demeanor. A slight flicker of something that felt... different. And you liked it. You leaned forward, eyes glinting with challenge, trying to provoke him further.

“Oh?” you drawled. “Then what are you going to do, Rinnie? You going to yell at me? Or maybe you’ll give up and walk out? Just like all the others do when I don’t give them what they want.”

Rin’s eyes didn’t waver. His gaze sharpened. “I’m not like everyone else. And you’re not going to get away with this. Not anymore.”

Before you could react, he suddenly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He moved with quiet precision, stepping around to your side of the desk, towering over you.

For the first time, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t expected. Intimidation.

Rin wasn’t looking at you with the same indifference anymore. His eyes were cold, and sharp. And when he spoke again, it wasn’t a suggestion.

“It’s about time you learned some discipline,” he muttered, his voice low, his tone all business. “You want me to let you get away with being a brat? You want to keep acting like nothing matters? Fine. But I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, an involuntary shiver running down your spine. For the first time in this entire tutoring session, you felt... unsure. This wasn’t playful teasing anymore. There was something almost punitive in his gaze.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, swallowing, your confidence starting to waver slightly.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing over your shoulder in a way that felt far more deliberate than anything you’d experienced from him before. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, his presence all-consuming.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice no longer sweet or patient. It was firm, commanding.

You blinked at him, not sure if you were hearing him right. “What?”

“Up,” Rin repeated, voice hardening as he looked down at you, his stance more imposing. “Now.”

For a moment, you froze. You weren’t used to being ordered around. Not like this. But something in his eyes—the intensity of it—made you hesitate. You slowly stood, feeling the nerves crawl up your spine as Rin continued to stare at you.

“Good,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking to your now standing form. You didn’t know what he was planning, but you couldn’t deny the thrill of anticipation that coursed through you. Rin’s presence was consuming, suffocating in the best way.

Then, without warning, Rin moved swiftly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently but firmly toward him. “You’re going to get this shit done, and you’re going to do it right,” he said, the dominance in his voice clear now. “You don’t get to waste my time anymore. You’re going to learn. Or I’m done.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had never seen Rin like this. So… decisive. So in control. And it felt like something was shifting between you both, like the game you had been playing had just leveled up.

You swallowed, meeting his gaze, but this time, you didn’t smile. You didn’t tease. Something about the way he was looking at you made you want to obey. To prove you could be good. To prove you could handle his intensity.

“Understood?” he asked, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The bratty defiance that had been your shield before seemed like nothing more than a distant memory now, replaced by something that felt like surrender.

Rin Itoshi had finally stopped tolerating you. He was taking control, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to resist or let him take you further into his world of discipline.

But either way, it was clear, this wasn’t going to be easy for you anymore.

[canisvesperus]

Calculus is significantly easier if you’re SUPER sharp on your trig and your algebra skills. If you know your identities and your theorems and you’re good at factoring and playing with numbers in general— you have a lot less to think hard about and trip up on while you’re working on the actual calculus itself, which can be surprisingly straightforward as long as you’ve trained yourself to see the patterns, stay organized, and think a few moves ahead.