#rational approximations

[oneefin]

i usually find youtube comments sections pretty low-brain, but one of my favorite bits of cleverness i've ever seen came from a youtube comment under a math video of someone explaining how they did it using music theory. and this is right up my alley so i'm going to break it down.

the problem in the video was "approximate log_2(3) without a calculator", and they did it using purely mathematical methods and a tiny bit of memorization. but you can actually do this with a basic understanding of tuning theory:

basically, there's this thing in music called the harmonic series. its a sequence of notes starting from some root pitch and ascending in whole number multiples of that pitch. for example, if you start from C:

each note in this sequence has a frequency n times the frequency of C5. get it?

now, even though this would be the "perfect" way to tune things, we don't actually tune notes this way - because it doesn't work if you change your root note. instead, western music is tuned to what's called 12-tone equal temperment (12tet), in which the ratio between two adjacent notes is exactly the same:

the ratio x is picked such that an octave is still x2. so x turns out to be the 12th root of 2.

anyway, how does this help with the original problem? well, these concepts give us two ways to think about a similar musical interval. consider the difference between C and G:

in the harmonic series, this distance is a x3 multiplication. however, in 12tet, this is 19 steps, each multiplying by the 12th root of 2. written another way, that gives 19/12 = log_2(3).

19/12 is 1.58333..., while log_2(3) is about 1.585. that's accurate to two decimal places.

in fact, the approximation isn't just really close - it can be considered optimally good among other fractions of a similar length. that's because mathematicians have a way to derive best fractional approximations for any irrational number, and on that list for log_2(3), 19/12 is there:

that's a cool solution to an arbitrary math problem, but also it's quite cool from a music theory perspective! it gives a reason for why it's not only appropriate for the western scale to has 12 notes in it, but that it'd be surprising for it not to have 12 notes in it, given that 19/12 approximates the 3rd note in the harmonic series so well.

[tenrose]

So in the end today might have started with a breakdown and me saying we should kill all men but I redirected my rage pretty well. Bow tomorrow I will have to say "ok one or two men can live and humanity has like two good aspects (food and books, and food again), sorry about yesterday"

[unopenablebox]

even otherwise very likeable people spend too long in the bay area and start telling you that going to rationalist social events is okay

[knicks-knacks]

Something like that. For the most part, they just feed the AI whatever media it is it's trying to replicate - scripts, books, etc. They also scrape fanfic itself. That said, even if they fed it every last instance of a certain character, it still wouldn't really be able to replicate it in any way. It'd just be what the chatbot thinks you're asking for under the "guise" of the character. Chatbots cannot understand the concept of "he would not fucking say that".

starting to suspect that tech bros actually just don’t know what reading is

[foggyeyes]

I feel like I'm goin' nuts every time I see a post that says "oh they were all supposed to be insane cannibals but now only Shauna is like that and everyone else is just scared of her." No, they literally just condemned Coach Scott to death, tortured him because of a gas-huffing prophecy, ate him, and danced around his severed head like 3 episodes ago. Only Natalie objected to this on any meaningful level, and she was ostracized and punished for it.

The reason they're freaked out about Mari is because she's one of them, instead of an outsider. Literally, in the finale, they make a distinction between killing "enemies" and spilling their own blood- this is the line that some of the girls aren't willing to cross. That doesn't make them not villainous, or violent, or cannibalistic! It's actually not "better" to display some guy's head on a spike just because he's Not One Of Us. Shauna is terrifying because she's unwilling to make that distinction- she literally interrupts Van and Tai's plot to give Hannah the queen! Which they rationalized because she wasn't one of "them." And, in the adult timeline, Taissa decides that Shauna is the problem because Van dies, when approximately 1 day ago she was considering hunting down random people to murder on Van's behalf. It's easy to rationalize violence when it's not happening to people you care about, which is the brutal philosophical bedrock of civilization. The one taboo that most of the Yellowjackets are unwilling to break is killing the people you love, and Shauna has had her ability to love stripped away to nothing.

[antivanlights]

After their fight against the gods is done, after the Veil is once again secured, I imagine Rook wanting to do something for Lucanis - something special. Especially since they finally can. After much deliberation (approximately 15 seconds and a side glance at the wyvern-tooth dagger sitting carefully on Lucanis' night stand), Rook has a wyvern-spotting adventure planned. A bag sits ready with camping gear, food rations, a wyvern species encyclopedia, a journal and all the art supplies they could find within a few hours.

Convincing Lucanis takes less than a minute, and the next thing they know, they’re hiking across the Orlesian wilderness.

The first wyvern they spot will be permanently engraved into Rook’s memory – whether that’s from the beast’s presence or from Lucanis’ reaction is up for debate (is it really, though?). Regardless, Rook will inevitably become an expert on that particular species of wyvern.

“Rook!” “Rook.” RookRookRook, look!” “ROOK.” They swear that last one was Spite, but Lucanis calls out them every few minutes during their adventure, each time a wyvern so much as blinks funny. There, Rook is witness to one of the biggest (and longest-lasting) grins Lucanis has ever displayed. Eyes bright, body practically buzzing with excitement as they crouch behind cover. Rook doesn’t know if anything can beat the feeling pounding at their chest.

Rook reaches an important conclusion, they fucking love wyverns.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Not so Markless After All

MASTERPOST

For as long as Bruce could remember, he'd never had a soulmate. There were no loops or twisting vines inked on skin, no murmur in the back of his head, or a timer on his wrist. By all evidence found, he was alone.

It wasn't anything too tragic. The Markless is a small but welcoming community, dedicated to spreading awareness that not everyone needed or wanted such a bond and Bruce liked being a part of it. However, he couldn't shake the disappointment even with the rationalization that a soulmate would only complicate his nighttime activities.

Which is why, in the middle of a meeting to prepare for the council with the King of another realm, Batman was shocked to see a red string on his finger. It hadn't been there a moment ago when he was talking to Superman, appearing in the moment he'd turned to address Flash, then solidifying as he caught sight of it.

He knew, okay, that the red string was rare. That of all the bonds one could have, a red string was equally the luckiest and unluckiest bond to have. Because if you weren't close—approximately 50 miles at most—then you can't see it. You could go your entire life thinking you're Markless then all of a sudden your soulmate takes a vacation or a road trip. Like Bruce did.

Except, Bruce is in space. In space, where no one knows about or can get to without having prior authorization. So who the hell is his soulmate and why are they getting closer.

In the time it took Batman to find the direction of the string, the rest of the room had gone tense at the Dark Knights' sudden intensity. So, when a body casually floats through the walls of the Watchtower, the heroes are all prepared to fight.

"Ah— oops, didn't mean to spook ya'll!" A midwestern voice accompanied by an undertone of whispering that Batman can't make out calls from the body. A man, with white hair floating like clouds and a face pale like snow with only startling Lazarus green eyes to accentuate. Batman is intrigued, wary, and uneasy all at once.

"Who are you?" He calls out, eyes avoiding the red he knows is there. The man startles, eyes shooting across the room to find Batman, then stills. Oh, he hadn't noticed, then.

There's a long stretch of silence before a laugh falls from the mans lips—don't look at them, don't—as he removes himself from the wall. "Oh, this is hilarious," the man calls out, "I can't believe this is why Clockwork wanted me to hear you guys out, that fucker."

He shakes himself off and now that he's standing— floating upright, Batman can see the man wears an outfit of black and white, a bodysuit that looks eerily like a hazmat with a black cape overtop. The cape, as it flairs out behind the man, reveals a void of black that is splattered in the expanse of swirling stars and galaxies.

"I'm Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and all that jazz. And you, poor unfortunate soul, are stuck with me it seems."

It sounded like a threat to Batman's hard-wired brain, but in the King's sickly green eyes was a sense of trepidation. The council had been planned with much of the same feeling—like the King didn't know if he could trust the word of humans from a world that was actively hunting and experimenting on his kind.

Bruce, in some strange way, thought it reminded him of his kids. Of Dick, who had lost his parents and home, and had found a place with Bruce to heal. Of Jason, who was so bright and so good, but couldn't find what he needed with Bruce. Of Tim, hardworking and desperate to save anyone he could, no matter what. Of Damian, angry and confused that Bruce wanted him to be a kid for once.

"Hm." Batman can feel the smile on his face, can feel the stares of his confused comrades, but that doesn't matter. King Phantom is another in a long line of people that need Batman's help—what right does he have to walk away now.

[aylish91]

Favorite comment, hahaha! So true! Down deep dark rabbit holes...

This is why I read the reddit comments

[todorkihoe]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

content warnings: solo (m) masturbation, pathetic man uses pocket p*ssy

thinking about satoru who has never taken the time to learn how to please himself. he's somewhat of a spoiled brat, honestly. there’s no reason for him to learn how to please himself when you’re around, always willing to do that for him. and it’s never caused him any problems.

at least until you leave for a week-long solo mission.

he’s fine the first few days, it’s not like he’ll die without your hand squeezing and fisting his cock, without having you wrapped around him every night. but he’s starting to get just a little antsy, a little on edge, pent up. talking to you on the phone gets him all hot and bothered like it never has before. the sound of your sweet voice through the phone goes straight to his cock, which hardens painfully in his pants.

so on the 5th night of your absence, he quite literally takes matters into his own hands and attempts to recreate the pleasure you bring him. and he fails; miserably.

poor, poor 'toru spends hours pumping his swollen cock, nearly sobbing because he’s been unintentionally edging himself the whole time. he tries everything to get himself off but none of it works. his skin burns, damp with sweat, and oh so sensitive..but he just can't reach that peak.

he falls asleep late that night with the need for release still aching inside him and his cock still terribly hard between his legs.

the next day he tries to rationalize with himself, saying in his head that it’s only a couple more days before you’re home. time that could be measured in hours. but that voice works for all of another couple hours and that's how gojo satoru, strongest jujutsu sorcerer, finds himself in a sex shop with his white hair poorly concealed by a baseball cap and his eyes by sunglasses.

satoru avoids the eyes of the annoyingly extroverted cashier behind the counter who's offering help and guidance. as he walks through the aisles, still aching below the belt, he finally finds something that catches his eye.

a pocket pussy of all things.

with only slightly shaky hands he picks up the box to inspect, relieved that the lube is included, lest he have to spend any more time than necessary searching for some in this store. and with a red face, he throws down the cash for the item and practically sprints out with it.

approximately 30 minutes later he's back in bed, hips furiously fucking up into the silicone with his pretty eyes closed, trying to imagine you bouncing on top of him. filthy, wet squelches from the lube and his precum, and the sounds of his desperate, whiny moans fill the room.

he babbles mindlessly to himself, a cacophony of "f-fuck!" and "mmm" and "ohh-hh" as he pumps himself into a blissful haze. he finally starts to feel that tightening in his abdomen as that delicious high gets closer and closer-

and it's gone. opening his eyes and seeing a distinct lack of you managed to bring him right back down. satoru throws his head back with a loud, frustrated whine as he keeps grinding, tears starting to form in the corners of his pretty eyes, and then he hears it.

the sound of the front door opening accompanied by your voice calling his name. back early from your mission, his saving grace.

and ever the spoiled brat, satoru discards the worthless toy onto the floor and props himself up against the headboard, cock leaking against his abdomen and waiting for you to come take care of him, as always.

[nightingale-prompts]

Ghost Emotions-DCxDP Prompt

So ghosts are not exactly the paragon of calm and serenity. In fact, they are well known to switch from one extreme to another. This is mostly because they can't calm down.

The physical body of a ghost is just a shell of good bits around their core. Naturally they don't have a need for human biological necessities like functioning organs.

It doesn't stop them from making approximations if they want but their "flesh" is made of ectoplasm. Ecto has unique properties like the fact that it's just full of energy. Ghosts are beings of almost pure energy.

So when that ecto is charged by emotions radiating for the core there is a problem.

Do you know Tinkerbell from Peter Pan? Well It's written that fairies can't feel complex emotions. This is because they can't feel more than one emotion. After all, such big feelings can't fit inside such little bodies. That's why Tinkervell can be rational and when she got mad she wanted to kill Wendy. Now the misogynistic narrative of Peter Pan aside, ghosts are sort of similar.

All that charged emotional energy doesn't make room for other emotions at get drowned out. So when they get mad it's explosive and when they are happy it's just as extreme.

The problem for humans is that it's contagious. As I said ecto has unique properties and all that energy leaks out.

Phantom has a way of shifting the energy of every room he flies into. He wears his metaphorical heart on his sleeves and everyone is going to know. It's walking on eggshells or trying to change his mood.

If he's angry everyone gets irrated and argumentative. If he's sad everyone starts contemplating their worst moments. If he's happy then things seem to go better, missons get easier. But if he's enraged and I do mean enraged things get messy.

Have you tried telling an eldritch horror to calm down?

Don't.

Just don't.

[michaela-o]

please please PLEASE can we have an Autobot version of the how to catch a human post?! Begging on my knees here lol

Im sorry this took a bit longer i had so much fun writing this ! And besides that i got distracted by some of the TF comics that can be found online ! I just read the two whole comics about Drift becoming an autobot and man alive was that cool :3🧡

I'm also currently job-hunting and studying so there was not as much time to be online or make art as much as i'd like :'(🧡

But i hope you'll enjoy this one !! ( ｡ớ ᴗờ)🧡

P.s. - I know this is a bit different from the decepticon one bc i made this one in the more First Contact universe♡

Autobot recommendation for handling/capturing fragile organics: Humans

Foreword on behalf of Autobots

Humans are delicate, skittish creatures who rely on their instincts, emotions, and have a surprising amount of unpredictability. They are small, fragile, and prone to bouts of irrational behavior when startled or cornered. Despite their size and vulnerability, they possess an extraordinary will to survive, making them both a challenge and a responsibility to handle correctly.

This guide was written for Autobots tasked with capturing, securing, or calming a human in scenarios where their cooperation is necessary but unlikely. Treat them as you would a frightened turbomouse: with patience and care.

1: Recognizing the human creature

1.1 PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Humans are organics with relatively uniform structure but remarkable fragility. Standing approximately not even quarter of the height of a minicon, they lack protective exoskeletons or natural armor. Their bodies are composed of soft tissues supported by brittle bones, making them particularly susceptible to external forces.

Their skin is their first line of defense, but it is thin and prone to tearing. Cybertronian scanners often mistake minor abrasions as critical damage—while rarely life-threatening, these injuries cause them significant distress. Be mindful of their soft exteriors.

Humans rely heavily on their sensory organs to navigate their environment. Their eyes are sensitive to bright light, and their ears to loud or unexpected noises. Both can cause disorientation, so avoid shining headlights directly at them or using amplified vocalizers during interactions.

1.2 BEHAVIORAL TRAITS

Humans exhibit a wide range of behaviors, often dictated by their emotional state. Unlike Cybertronians, who generally act with calculated logic, humans are impulsive. When frightened, their actions often defy rationality.

• Flight Response: A common reaction to danger, humans may attempt to flee without assessing their surroundings. This can lead them into greater peril, such as running toward an active battlefield or hazardous terrain. They are pretty fast for their size, but their stamina is limited. A frightened human will often collapse after prolonged exertion.

• Fight Response: Though rare, humans under stress may lash out. Their attacks, though feeble, can include throwing objects, kicking, or attempting to strike a Cybertronians. While their strength is negligible, their determination should not be underestimated.

• Freeze Response: Some humans become motionless when overwhelmed, effectively shutting down all voluntary movement. This reaction can make them difficult to rescue, as they may refuse to cooperate or acknowledge external stimuli.

2: Identifying stress signals

2.1 VOCAL CUES

Humans communicate distress through an array of strange vocalizations, often at high volume. Screaming is the most obvious indicator of fear, but rapid speech, muttering, or even complete silence can also signal distress. Listen carefully to their tone—shaky or uneven sounds often betray underlying anxiety.

2.2 PHYSICAL REACTIONS

Their bodies exhibit telltale signs of stress: trembling limbs, widened organic optics, or clenched fists. Sweating, though imperceptible to Cybertronian optics, is another key indicator. Advanced scanners can detect elevated heart rates and shallow breathing, both of which correlate with heightened fear.

2.3 ERRATIC MOVEMENTS

Humans under duress often behave unpredictably, darting in random directions or making illogical choices. For example, a human might attempt to climb unstable structures or hide in areas that provide no real protection. These behaviors stem from primal survival instincts and should not be interpreted as strategic actions.

3: Non-threatening approaches

3.1 MINIMIZING YOUR PRESENCE

Humans perceive large objects, especially moving ones, as threats. To avoid provoking unnecessary fear, always begin your approach in a non-intimidating manner. Transforming into vehicle mode is highly effective; many humans associate vehicles with utility and safety, not danger.

When in robot mode, avoid towering over them. Lowering yourself to their eye level by kneeling or sitting creates a sense of equality and reduces the perception of dominance.

3.2 VOCAL REASURRANCE

Humans respond well to calm, steady voices. Speak slowly, using simple phrases even though they will not understand Cybertronian language. Avoid Cybertronian technical jargon or complicated explanations, as humand won't even understand and will confuse or frighten them further.

If the human continues to panic, repeat your reassurances while maintaining a soft tone. Over time, they will begin to associate your voice tone with safety.

3.3 BODY LANGUAGE

Body language is as important as spoken words. Humans are highly visual creatures and will interpret your movements as cues for intent. Keep your gestures slow and deliberate. Avoid sudden movements, as these can be perceived as aggression.

Extend a hand palm-up when offering assistance, a universal gesture of peace. Keep your frame neutral—crossed arms, clenched fists, or rigid postures might be misinterpreted as hostility.

4: Techniques for securing a human

4.1 NON-CONTACT METHODS

Whenever possible, prioritize techniques that do not involve physical interaction.

• Guided Pathways: Create barriers using objects or your own body to funnel the human toward safety. This method is particularly effective in open environments where direct contact might cause them to flee in the wrong direction.

• Stasis Bubbles: Deploy low-energy containment fields to immobilize the human. These fields should be calibrated to avoid discomfort and allow full mobility once the immediate danger has passed.

4.2 DIRECT CONTACT METHODS

Important note: When physical interaction is unavoidable, use the utmost care.

• Lifting and Restraint: Cradle the human gently in both hands, supporting their head and limbs. Apply no more force than necessary to prevent them from struggling or falling.

• Transport Compartments: Many Autobots have interior compartments designed for transporting fragile cargo. Ensure these are padded, ventilated, and free of sharp edges before placing a human inside.

4.3 ENVIROMEMTAL ADJUSTMENTS

Humans are profoundly influenced by their surroundings. Dim lighting, soft sounds, and warm temperatures can help calm them during capture. Conversely, loud noises, flashing lights, or sudden temperature changes will heighten their distress.

5: Transporting the human

5.1 SAFE COMPARTMENTS

Select a secure compartment that protects the human from external hazards while allowing them to move comfortably. The space should include basic life-support features such as climate control and breathable air.

5.2 CONTINUOUS MONITORING

Scan the human regularly for signs of injury or stress. If their condition deteriorates, stop immediately and address their needs. Humans are highly vulnerable to dehydration, exhaustion, and emotional fatigue.

6: Release and recovery

6.1 GRADUAL DISENGAGMENT

When the mission is complete, release the human in a controlled manner. Begin by reducing your proximity, allowing them to acclimate to their surroundings. Avoid abrupt departures, which may leave them feeling abandoned or confused.

6.2 PROVIDING REASSURANCE

Humans value closure. Rather than explain, show your actions and reassure them of their safety. If possible, provide additional assistance, such as guiding them back to their community or offering resources for recovery.

Closing thoughts

Humans may be small and fragile, but they are resilient in their own way. By treating them with care and understanding, they will give you theirs in return.

"We honor the principles that make us Autobots." - Autobots

[cthulhubert]

This ties in a bit with one of the rationality drums I used to bang, that some people refuse to believe anything they don't already believe, and think this makes them the most savvy customer out there, instead of someone doing the exact same thing as the one so credulous they believe every new thing, just in inversion.

I think that one of the things that scares me the most is how gullible the average person seems when presented with transparently false ideas. Even people who consider themselves cynics!

[mpreglover225]

[Newly Declassified Document from U.S. Army Medical Corps Archives, 1944 Subject: Medical Assessment Report — Pvt. Andrew “Drew” Matthews (Service No. 5XXXX) Date: May 10, 1944 Location: Field Hospital, Western Front

Background & Context

Private Andrew “Drew” Matthews, 18, is currently serving overseas under the U.S. Army. Initial enlistment was in late 1943. He has been under periodic medical review following the discovery of an unexpected pregnancy while stationed in-theater. According to the most recent examinations, Pvt. Matthews is now at approximately seven months gestation. This update provides a detailed assessment of his physical condition, with particular focus on rectal and hip adaptations pertinent to male pregnancy.

Current Medical Evaluation

General Physical Status

Vital Signs:

Blood Pressure: 115/76 (stable)

Pulse: 84 BPM (slightly elevated but within normal pregnancy parameters)

Respiration: 18 breaths per minute

Weight Gain: 18 pounds above initial enlistment baseline (notable increase from previous month, consistent with advancing gestation).

Gestational Progress

Estimated 28 weeks (7 months). The uterine and lower abdominal growth is consistent with typical third-trimester developments in male pregnancy.

Fetal heart tones remain strong on auscultation (~146 BPM). Fetal movements reported to be frequent, especially in the evenings.

Rectal Examination

Pvt. Matthews reports periodic pressure and heaviness in the rectal canal, especially when standing or marching for extended periods.

On gentle palpation, the rectum shows increased vascularity and mild swelling, which is not unusual in the late stages of male pregnancy. However, care must be taken to prevent or manage potential hemorrhoids, given added strain in this region.

The anal sphincter demonstrates normal tone, though Pvt. Matthews describes occasional episodes of discomfort—likely linked to fetal positioning and the downward pressure exerted by the growing child.

Hip and Pelvic Girdle Assessment

Complaints of hip soreness and lower back ache have intensified since last examination (one month prior). This is attributed to gradual pelvic widening and the shifting center of gravity.

Physical palpation indicates mild ligament laxity around the hip joints—a natural adaptation in male pregnancies as the body prepares for labor.

Pvt. Matthews experiences discomfort when required to traverse uneven terrain or stand in formation for extended durations. He reports temporary relief with short seated rests and mild stretches.

Nutritional and Environmental Factors

Wartime rationing complicates access to fresh produce, but additional calorie allowances have been arranged.

Daily supplements (when available) include powdered milk, iron tablets, and occasionally vitamin-fortified biscuits. Pvt. Matthews has been instructed to remain vigilant about hydration, as dehydration can exacerbate swelling and discomfort.

Duty Restrictions and Lifestyle

Currently assigned to administrative duties at a rear-echelon facility to minimize prolonged standing and heavy lifting.

Recommended low-impact movements: occasional short walks, gentle pelvic exercises, and if feasible, daily check-ins with medical staff for observation.

Sleep remains inconsistent due to frequent nighttime fetal activity and shared barracks noise, though Pvt. Matthews states he manages intermittent rest as best he can.

Psychological Outlook

Pvt. Matthews displays a mix of resolve and concern. He expresses worry about the stigma associated with his pregnancy and the uncertainty of how the child will be cared for if deployment conditions worsen.

Reports a sense of relief in having official medical oversight. Limited but consistent morale support from select squadmates and some discreet chaplain consultations appear beneficial.

Recommendations

Rectal & Hip Care

Moderate Rest: Schedule routine seated breaks to alleviate rectal pressure.

Support Garments: A supportive belt or band around the lower abdomen may reduce strain on hips and rectal canal.

Warm Compresses: Applied to the lower back and hips can mitigate soreness; for rectal discomfort, brief sitz baths or mild topical ointments (when resources permit).

Continued Nutritional Support

Maintain priority rations and supplements. Encourage iron- and protein-rich foods to prevent anemia and support fetal growth.

Ensure hydration, especially given increased metabolic demands at seven months.

Monitoring and Follow-Up

Regular monthly checks, or sooner if rectal swelling increases or if new symptoms arise (e.g., significant bleeding, severe pelvic pain).

Coordinate with field hospital staff to prepare for potential labor or complications, given the unusual deployment environment.

Emotional and Social Support

Where possible, arrange for discreet counseling. Encourage Pvt. Matthews to continue confiding in chaplain or trusted medical personnel, minimizing isolation.

If feasible, discuss postpartum logistics with commanding officers to ensure the newborn’s welfare and Pvt. Matthews’s postpartum recovery.

Conclusion

At seven months pregnant, Pvt. Matthews remains in stable condition with no immediate red flags detected aside from typical third-trimester challenges. Symptoms such as rectal heaviness, hip soreness, and general fatigue reflect the normal physiological adaptations of late-stage male pregnancy. Ongoing support, both medical and logistical, will be crucial to ensure a safe outcome for both father and child as wartime circumstances persist.

Signed,

Capt. Robert H. Nolan, M.D.

U.S. Army Medical Corps, Western Front

[saeun]

"i fucking give up," satoru complains, throwing himself on your bed.

"get off my bed?" you complain, throwing the chips at him.

not only was he uninvited, he also messed up your freshly made bed with clean sheets. surely he isn't going to force you into a therapist, right..?

"don't tell me what to do," he speaks, voice muffled as he's face down on the bed, "it's your fault i'm like this anyway."

you pay no mind to him, tossing your phone onto the bed before you go to the bathroom.

"yeah, yeah. i'm the big bad wolf."

satoru turns his head to face your direction. the side of his face's squished, enhancing his pout. ever since he had that dream he's been like this. it's always some fucking dream and never something that happens in real life. to say he's tired is a severe understatement and just disrespectful.

technically, this entire ordeal is his fault — but technically, you're the one who's at major fault! it's not his fault he caught feelings for you which was against the conditions you laid out. it's also not his fault you're exactly his type. totally not his fault you care for him in a way that blurs the line between platonic and romantic. yeah, not his fault.

‘friends with benefits my ass,’ he curses in his mind, watching the closed door of your bathroom. ‘what is she doing? it does not take that long to pee.’

soon after you re-enter the room, wiping your hands on your thighs before calculating your precise landing spot as you jump.

location: on top of gojo satoru's back.

action: completed successfully.

"what the fuck," he groans, turning to throw you off his back.

you laugh softly, patting his leg with your foot. "that's what you get."

he glares at you, mocking your words in a childish tone.

a silence settles in, both you of go on to do your own things. satoru fiddling with the rubix cube on your bedside table, and you were switching through apps on your phone.

it's comfortable, being in a moment of silence with another person. there's no forced feeling to start a conversation; just the way you like it. peace, beautiful peace.

"OKAY!"

startled, you looked at satoru with the physical expression of ‘???’

"are you malfunctioning?" your tone's disgusted, so too is your expression.

satoru sits up, "(y/n), i decided."

"decided what?" you reply, mirroring his action.

"remember that dream i've been talking about?"

"yeah?"

"it was about us. so, basically, i fell in love with you and i know you said you don't want any romantic relationships because of the commitment but i couldn't help it after the dream — i want it to be real, i really—"

"take a breather, satoru," you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth.

maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly removed your hand, "don't rap your words, ‘kay?"

"yeah," he voice goes soft, breaking the eye contact to look at your hand.

"it's true i'm not looking for any commitment, but who knows? maybe i want you the way you want me," you shrugged.

satoru doesn't replicate your nonchalance. in fact, his jaw dropped approximately thirty degrees down! slamming his hand down on the bed, he leans forward.

"please, please don't be rational right now. thy must listen thee heart, not thou mind," he speaks, pretending that he said a ground-breaking philosophy quote.

"what's with the old english? anyway, i'll try to not be rational."

‘he's nervous,’ you think, noting his habit of biting the skin off his lip.

"don't do that," your arm extends to his face, using your thumb to pull his lip out his teeth. "you'll bruise your lip."

the action causes him to groan, throwing his head back.

"oh fuck you, (y/n). just kiss me if you're gonna do that," he complains, pouting at you.

"if you say so," shrugging again, you pull him down to you, initiating the kiss first.

like he said, you won't be rational. you'll save the regrets or whatever for tomorrow.

[luciathcv]

blurred lines - sjy

summary: in which you cross the line of being platonic and romantic with your best friend || warnings: none || genre: fluff, friends to lovers || word count: approximately 810

The best way to describe your friendship with Jake would be that it constantly blurs the lines between platonic and romantic love. The both of you knew it but neither wanted to change that. Your crushes on one another take over the rationality of maintaining your friendship.

The way in which you expressed your love for one another, despite it being contradictory to your title of being “friends” had become second nature for the both of you.

You never flinched whenever Jake pulled you onto his lap whether there was an available seat. His arms wrapped around you as he rested his chin on your shoulder, continuing with whatever he was doing as if this was normal.

You slept over his dorm often and every single time, you slept in his bed with him. Not just sleeping next to one another. The two of you would lay with one another, bodies pressed against one another, limbs lazily entangled.

He’d find his hands traveling under your shirt, resting on your tummy chastely. You didn’t push his hands away, though. Instead, you leaned into his touch. You let him be the only one that could touch you like that, despite him being solely your best friend.

It was whenever someone walked into you two cuddling like that so intimately that you were hit with a realization that this wasn’t normal. Jake was completely nonchalant, though. He had no problem with anyone else seeing you two like this and it was clear.

When whoever walked in finally left, you found yourself pulling away to which he pulled you right back against him, knowing exactly what it was all about.

“Come on. Don’t listen to them.” He’d say.

“Maybe, they’re right. Maybe-“ Jake cuts you off before you can even finish speaking.

“Maybe they should mind their own business.” He says. “I know you don’t have a problem with it and I know for a fact that I don’t. Who cares what they think? It’s not their friendship, it’s ours.” Jake’d say and he truly meant every word of it.

You found yourself agreeing with him every single time, without fail. You knew you felt the same way as him, he simply had more confidence in his feelings.

Jake wasn’t only obsessed with you when you were around. He was constantly bringing you up around his members wether it be something you texted him, something that happened when you hung out, or something reminding him of you, he was bringing you up with no shame.

Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was talking about his girlfriend when they heard him talk about you, not knowing that the two of you were simply best friends.

Then, one night, the two of you were having a sleepover and were laying in bed, cuddled up. You had been talking about the stupidest things along with the deepest stuff for literal hours. It was the middle of the night, technically early morning, and Jake would never be up this late if it weren’t for the fact that you were here.

The two of you had gone silent, finally, after constant talking and you were about to shut your eyes and go to sleep when suddenly, you felt his lips against yours as he softly kissed you. You melted into the kiss, kissing him back chastely before the two of you pulled away.

“Good night, Y/n.” Was all Jake said before the two of you eventually fell asleep.

After that, the two of you didn’t stop. You were both kissing behind closed doors, whenever you were in private. You felt like teenagers, the way you giggled through the kiss, the secrecy of it being almost exciting.

A few weeks later, Jake had taken you on a late night walk at Han River. The two of you held hands as you both talked mindlessly. It then went silent for a few moments as you both walked and enjoyed the atmosphere.

Suddenly, Jake stopped, causing you to stop as well and look back at him, confused on why he’d stopped so suddenly. He looked into your eyes before speaking.

“Y/n. I know we’ve crossed so many lines in our friendship but if you couldn’t tell already… I love you. I love you as more than a friend. You mean everything to me. You really do. I can’t stop thinking about you, not that I ever try. You mean the world to me, baby.” He says and you can’t help but smile lovingly up at him. “Be my girlfriend?” Jake then asked.

Deep down, you’d been expecting this question to come eventually and you were way past simple “happiness” after hearing him ask you to be his because all you wanted these past few years of friendship was to be his, and finally, you were.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

What do you think happened to the characters after your fic patched up? Did will get his priorities straight and commit to the reader…pls say yes

Unraveled - Sequel to Patched Up

Here is a very long answer 💖

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. Minors, DNI.

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Warnings: Fluff/angst (flangst). Sexual content: Vaginal sex; safe sex; biting. Not beta-read.

You don't think your coworker means to send your whole day careening off its axis, but it happens anyway. It's tacked onto an invitation to hang out that weekend, coupled with a sigh that she's had no luck hooking up with Ben (who's been out of town) or with the manimal.

You still wince at the term, but you're more intrigued at the fact that Will has turned down your gorgeous friend.

"Oh?" You ply as innocently as possible. She doesn't seem terribly put out as she shrugs a shoulder, setting her laptop and notepad down on her desk.

"He was nice about it, at least. Said he was flattered, but that he travels a bunch, already has his eye on someone."

She says it like it's nothing. And to be fair, to her, it is nothing.

She has no idea that she's just touched on the tenuous string keeping Will—the thought of him in your arms, in your bed, the idea of him—and set the fucking thing on fire.

You're numb and quiet for the rest of the day as the seams of your misplaced devotion silently disintegrate. You drive home stoically, unable to even bring yourself to turn the radio or a podcast on to distract yourself.

You step inside your apartment at 6:02 pm, shut the door, lock up, and draw in a deep breath.

You have no right, no reason to mourn. There's never been an agreement between the two of you. No exclusivity, no expectations, just...an understanding. You'd talked about it. You'd settled on this decision. This is your fault, isn't it?

You should've quit while you were ahead, drawn back when you'd found yourself in tatters after spending nights with him; seaming your sanity back into one piece as your mind spun with his tender smiles, and steady touch; with his eyes slipping shut as his hips bore down against yours—

You raise a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting desperately to staunch a wave of tears that have been waiting in the wings since approximate 10:38 that morning. You can't rationalize this, not right now.

You'll let yourself put your delusions to bed tonight. You can blame yourself all you want tomorrow, and put yourself back together the way you always have.

--

Piece by piece, thread by thread, you draw yourself back together over the next week, two weeks. You stop letting your every other thought be of him—his sweet eyes, and warm hands, and crushing kisses.

You even go out with a couple of people. You don't shy away from the attention that your coworker manages to drum up when the two of you go to the bar, and when some is directed at you, you manage not to shy from it. You let someone new catch your eye, and hold it for a couple of dates.

The time you spend with him that evening is nice—you go bowling, and then grab a drink. He leaves you on your doorstep with a chaste kiss. It's sweet.

But it doesn't make you feel much.

You think, right now, that may be what you need. Something that can be gently tried and carefully broken in, like a new pair of shoes.

You're just hanging your jacket up when you hear a knock on your door. It makes you freeze, your brow furrowing. You pat down your pockets, glance over your shoulder for your purse. You didn't forget anything in his car—you checked before you got out. You tread toward the door softly, wary of the click of your heels on the entryway tile.

He can't have come back for another kiss, that first one wasn't all that spectacular. He can't want to break things off with you in person. You've only seen one another twice, and besides, why not do that instead of kissing you if he wasn't feeling it?

You peer through the peephole and just manage to stop yourself form sucking in an audible gasp.

The sight of Will Miller at your doorstep has never made you feel queasy before.

Nervous? Sure. Fluttery? Absolutely.

But right now, your heart feels like it just shocked your entire system before dropping into your bile-filled stomach.

You consider for a few moments as you watch him wait calmly on the other side of the door. It's possible that he just got there—that he pulled up, parked, walked up to the front door. But...It's also possible that he saw you get out of that man's car. It's possible that he saw that man kiss you, watched that man leave, and walked up your front steps anyway.

Maybe whoever he has his eye on is busy tonight. Maybe he wants his old, comfortable stand-in, and knows for sure that you're home. You gnaw the inside of your cheek, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing your hand over your pounding heart.

You can leave him in the cold. You can leave him on the doorstep, send the message that you're not interested anymore. You don't have to let him in just because he probably knows that you're in there.

Whatever you do, you cannot open the door. If you open the door, you'll let him in, and then all of the hard work that you've put in over the last couple of weeks will be hacked up, fit only to be sold for scraps.

The night air seems chillier than you remember from just a few moments ago—but then, you had been wearing a jacket.

Will waits there with his hands in his pockets, taking a couple of steps closer as soon as the door is opened fully. You force yourself to stand staunchly still, eyes set on his. But his gaze just sweeps from yours to linger on your lips before capturing yours again.

You won't let him inside, you can just tell him that you've had a long day and that you'd like him to leave.

He lifts one of his hands, knuckles stroking gently along your cheek as he watches your lashes flutter at the contact.

"Can I come in?"

You can say no. He probably just saw you with another man. He knows that you're at least dating, if not with someone. Just because he's here, just because he decided to show up, doesn't mean that he's entitled to your time.

--

He's taking his time.

He has before, but this is different. And it occurs to you belatedly that it may be some kind of goodbye. It makes you ache, and hide your face in his neck as his hips roll against yours with deliberate slowness.

You draw in the scent of him—his cologne, and deodorant, and sweat, and Will—and you let out a shaky little breath. You're dangerously close to unraveling the way you did two weeks ago, but you can't, not with him here. So you turn your head, squeeze your eyes shut, sink your teeth into the slope of his shoulder.

Will's hips stutter against yours as a groan punches out of him. But he doesn't let out a word of complaint, or teasing. He slips a hand up from your thigh and grasps the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. His slick skin slips from your teeth as you shudder, your back bowing as you push up against him.

Will peers down at you, those sweet lips parted as he pants softly. His typically bright blue eyes are dark, and covetous. You get as good a look at them as you can before his mouth descends on yours, tongue slipping between your lips.

You can't bring your hands to settle. The sweep across his arms, his hair, his neck, his face, the slick indent of your bite mark.

And maybe it's your turn to be the sadist, to twist the knife knowingly, just a little.

Pressing into the tender skin makes Will break the kiss with a hiss. His hands raise to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers and pinning you them to the bed. You whimper, pressing up into his iron-tight grip, but to no avail. You squeeze his hands, sink back into the mattress, and unravel as he gives and takes and takes and takes.

--

"When'd you get back in town?"

Asking the question feels like you're losing the last vestiges of safety that you'd managed to build up around yourself in your time without him. You shouldn't still want to know. You should give less of a fuck about where he's been, what he's been up to.

But with his body nestled against yours, his palms resting on your thighs, you tell yourself that you'll pick yourself back up tomorrow (again), patch yourself together (again), and move on from Will Miller once and for all (again).

He doesn't answer right away, and after a few moments, you realize that he isn't awake.

Tipping your head down to get a better look at him, you see his closed eyes, and you stop breathing for a moment to feel his—the deep, even pull of it, the push of it against your bare skin. You blink dumbly for a moment before you tip your head back.

You can wake him up. You can shoo him out. He's a grown man, he can handle it.

You reach out just enough to draw the covers up over the two of you and your bedside shut the lamp off.

--

You awake to the feeling of Will pressing his teeth into your clavicle—not hard enough to hurt, and likely not anywhere near enough to mark. But you groan and wriggle, shoving at his forehead all the same. He just presses his body more tightly to yours, hands slipping down to grasp and pin your hips.

You scrub your eyes sleepily, smiling as Will's tongue laves to irritated skin. He rests his chin against your shoulder, the brush of his beard just on the edge of tickling you. You reach up, gently raking your nails against his scalp.

"You stayed."

He doesn't nod, or him, or shrug. He just watches, and waits. And you can handle silence, you can. You'll wait him out.

You manage all of ten seconds before it gets to you.

"...How long have you been back in town?"

"A few hours."

Hours? You'd been expecting him to say days, weeks—

"When did you—?"

"Around nine."

Nine. You'd been dropped off around nine. If Will was being honest, it meant that he'd driven right to yours. You avert your gaze, fighting to keep your composure in the face of Will's steady focus.

"Oh?"

"Mm." One of his hands smooths up and over your thigh, fingers swirling in aimless patterns. "Who was he?"

You're unable to stop or hide your wince, and you pull yourself out from under him as your tangle of feelings flare. He lets you up, and sits up himself. You can feel the close watch that he keeps on you as you grab your bathrobe, tugging it on and tying it more tightly than necessary.

"Well?" He prods after a moment.

"Just a guy I've been seeing."

"How many times?"

"A couple."

"Serious?"

"The hell does that matter?" You scoff. Will remains steady in the face of your irritation, just watching you move around your room, picking up your discarded clothing. You lay his pants on the bed, and he gamely catches his underwear and shirt when you throw them at him. He stands, pulls the underwear on, but doesn't bother with anything else.

"You wouldn't have let me in if it was," He argues. You shake your head, your protestation clogging up your throat. You both know he's right on that point, there's no point quibbling.

"Was your first choice unavailable?" You grumble.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been told you have your eye on someone." You don't dare look at him as the quiet fills the room, and stretches to suffocating as you wait for Will's answer.

"...Yeah," He confirms. And it's like it's 6:02 in your entryway all over again. Tears prickle in your eyes, and your stomach churns with upset. But you just nod, raising your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose and steady yourself again.

"So?" You press. "Why aren't you wherever she is?"

"I am."

It's spoken deceptively softly, so quietly that you nearly miss it the same time. You shake your head, trying to make sense of the words over the blood pounding in your ears.

"Excuse me?"

You register the slight creak of the floorboards as Will stands, the soft padding of his feet as he gets closer. He takes hold of your wrist, drawing it back from your face as he gently grasps your chin with his other hand.

"I just got back into town and I came right here," He murmurs.

"For a bootycall."

"To ask you out...And yeah, for a bootycall."

His warm smile widens as you sputter a disbelieving laugh, the force of it pushing a few waiting tears from your eyes. Will reaches up, gently smoothing the drops away before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"I should've said something sooner. That is," He dips his head to meet your eyes, "If this is something that you want."

You huff, reaching up and dabbing irritatedly at your eyes with the sleeve of your bathrobe.

"Can we just be clear about what this is?" You sniffle.

"Dating, for a start."

"A start?"

"Mhm. I'm happy to take it slow, considering how quickly other areas have accelerated."

You consider him for a few moments—the heat of him, the steadiness. He stayed. Will Miller fell asleep in your bed, in your fucking arms. He came to your first.

Your eyes stray to his shoulder, to the slight mark left behind by your teeth the night before. You reach up, skimming your fingertip over it.

"Sorry," You mumble.

"S'okay," He soothes, smoothing his hands over your hips and drawing you closer. "So?"

"Okay."

"Can we just be clear about what you're saying 'okay' to?"

You do your best to shoot him a disapproving glare, but you can't help the smile beginning to twist your lips.

"Okay," You lean into it. "I would like to date. For a start."

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