#square root functions

[math-journal2]

<— Unit 15 — Unit 16: Radicals — Unit 17 —>

Unit 16: Radicals

Related: Parabola Shifts pg24

Shifts and Reflections

Stretch v Compress

Trick

Page 44

[kamalemons]

world's driest driblee, for the second time this month, has no idea what to do on half her precal review the day before the test

[fatliberation]

Anti-Obesity Drugs in Sociopolitical Context

Abstract

This literature review critically examines the use of Body Mass Index (BMI) as a diagnostic tool for obesity, highlighting its historical and scientific flaws. The diagnosis and treatment of obesity is heavily stigmatized and reflects deeper socio-economic and racial biases. Fatphobia, or anti-fatness, is deeply rooted in white supremacy and colonial history. I argue that anti-fatness and weight-based discrimination significantly impact health outcomes, rather than body fat percentage alone. The way that the medical system focuses on body size rather than the overall health of patients perpetuates harm and yields even poorer health outcomes. To genuinely improve the lives of fat individuals, we must dismantle anti-fat systems and remove barriers to healthcare, job equity, and basic infrastructure by implementing legal protections, rather than simply promoting weight loss. This review emphasizes the need for a holistic approach to health that considers socio-economic factors and systemic discrimination.

Journal Summary

Recently, two anti-obesity medications, Ozempic and Wegovy, which are primarily prescribed for type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM), have shown promise in causing weight loss. The 2022 scientific journal “Ozempic and Wegovy for Weight Loss, Pharmacological Component and Effect” by Abdullah Mohammed, et al explores the pharmacological components and effects of these medications on weight reduction, summarizing findings from existing clinical studies.

Ozempic is a glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agonist primarily used to manage T2DM. Clinical studies indicate that semaglutide can also promote significant weight loss. Ozempic's mechanism involves binding to GLP-1 receptors in the brain, reducing food intake and increasing feelings of fullness. This leads to a decrease in body weight and improvement in glycemic control. Wegovy, also a GLP-1 receptor agonist, is the same drug as Ozempic but two times the dose, specifically approved for weight loss for fat people even without T2DM. Administered as a weekly injection, Wegovy has shown effectiveness in inducing sustained weight loss. The STEP trials demonstrated that participants using Wegovy experienced an average weight loss of 15.8% over 68 weeks. Wegovy's pharmacokinetics involve prolonged activation of GLP-1 receptors, enhancing satiety and reducing hunger. GLP-1 receptor agonists like semaglutide mimic the action of the natural hormone GLP-1, which regulates appetite and blood sugar levels. By slowing gastric emptying and promoting a feeling of fullness, these medications reduce caloric intake. Clinical trials have shown that GLP-1RAs, including semaglutide, can result in weight loss from 5% or up to 10-15% of body weight. However, sustained weight loss requires ongoing lifestyle modifications, as discontinuation of the medication leads to weight regain. Common side effects of GLP-1 receptor agonists include gastrointestinal issues such as nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and constipation. Other potential side effects include increased heart rate, fatigue, headaches, and changes in thyroid function.

Obesity as a Disease

How does one get an obesity diagnosis? There is one single criterion used for diagnosing someone with this disease: The Body Mass Index (BMI). A person’s BMI is their weight in kilograms divided by the square of their height in meters, rounded to one decimal place. It does not account for muscle mass versus body fat. For these reasons, the BMI has been widely proven to be an ineffective health measure. The BMI was also never intended to be a measure of health in the first place.

The BMI was created in the 1800s by a statistician named Adolphe Quetelet, who did not study medicine, to gather statistics of the average height and weight of specifically white, European, upper-middle-class men to assist the government in allocating resources. It was never intended as a measure of individual body fat, build, or health (Karasu, 2016). Quetelet is also credited with founding the field of anthropometry, including the racist pseudoscience of phrenology. Quetelet’s L’homme Moyen would be used as a measurement of fitness to inspire, and as a scientific justification, for eugenics (Eugenics archive).

Studies have observed that about 30% of "normal” weight people are “unhealthy," whereas about 50% of "overweight" people are “healthy” (Rey-López, et al, 2014). Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health misclassifies 75 million people in the United States alone. “Healthy*” lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index (Matheson, et al, 2012).

*I put “healthy” in quotation marks here because the definition of an individual’s health is oversimplified and depends on many socioeconomic factors.

While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national obesity rates, the distinctions between weight classes can be arbitrary. Ever notice that the weight classes on the BMI are nearly intervals of five? In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—making roughly 29 million Americans "overweight" overnight—to match international guidelines (Butler, 2014). Critics have also noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs.

Jackie Scully, Senior Research Fellow at the Unit for Ethics in the Biosciences, University of Basel, in her scientific journal titled “What is a Disease?” states the following: “As the business literature shows, new clinical diagnoses are often welcomed primarily as opportunities for market growth (Moynihan et al, 2002). One recent example of this is female sexual dysfunction (FSD). The huge commercial success of sildenafil (Viagra) for erectile dysfunction in men provides a strong motivation for drug companies to identify an equivalent market (that is, condition) in women. And some ethicists feel that drug companies were, to put it mildly, over-involved in the medical consensus meetings held between 1997 and 1999 that effectively drew up very inclusive clinical criteria for the definition of FSD (Moynihan, 2003)."

How can one diagnose a person with a disease and sell them medications solely based upon an outdated measure that was never meant to indicate health in the first place, especially when obesity has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition? (Kahn, et. al., 2000), (Cofield, et al, 2010).

This is why the term “obese” is recognized as a slur by fat communities. It's a stigmatizing term that medicalizes fat bodies even in the absence of disease. The word directly translates to "having eaten oneself fat" in Latin. Obesity, as a medical diagnosis, doesn’t have much ground to stand on. Aside from being overtly incorrect as a medical tool, the BMI is used to deny certain medical treatments and gender-affirming care, as well as insurance coverage. Employers still often offer bonuses to workers who lower their BMI. Although science recognizes the BMI as deeply flawed, it's going to be tough to get rid of. It has been a long-standing and effective tool for the oppression of fat people and the profit of the weight loss industry.

To treat obesity, patients must eat less. Making someone smaller still means they will be healthier, right?

Fatness and Mortality

The idea that obesity is unhealthy and can cause or exacerbate illnesses is a biased misrepresentation of the scientific literature that is informed more by bigotry than credible science (Medvedyuk, et al, 2017). Fatphobia existed long before fatness became medicalized. Yes, obesity is correlated with conditions such as cardiovascular disease, hypertension, and diabetes, but some scientists are looking into possibilities that don't equate correlation with causation. Obesity has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition (Kahn, et al, 2000), (Cofield, et al, 2010) and its appearance may be a protective response to the onset of numerous chronic conditions generated from currently unknown causes (Lavie, et al, 2009), (Uretsky et al, 2007), (Mullen, et al, 2013), (Tseng, 2013). A portion of these correlated conditions are likely brought on by the stress of being part of one or more marginalized groups with little to no support or basic access in society. Weight stigma itself is deadly. Research shows that weight-based discrimination increases risk of death by 60% (Sutin, et al, 2014).

Dieting also poses serious health risks. The reason that these weight loss drugs are so successful by comparison is that dieting is unsustainable and does not lead to prolonged weight loss. Over 50 years of research conclusively demonstrates that virtually everyone who intentionally loses weight by manipulating their eating and exercise habits will regain the weight they lost within 3-5 years, and 75% will regain more weight than they lost (Mann, et al, 2007). Evidence suggests that repeatedly losing and gaining weight is linked to cardiovascular disease, stroke, diabetes, and altered immune function (Tomiyama, et al, 2017). If most fat people have historically tried to lose weight their whole lives through dieting, this has major implications on overall health. Prescribed weight loss is also the leading predictor of eating disorders (Patton, et al, 1999).

Another factor that may be impacting fat people’s rate of mortality is that they are being mistreated at the doctor’s office. I have personally heard dozens of stories about doctors refusing to treat or investigate a problem that a fat person came in for until they lost a certain amount of weight, only to discover years later that the problem was unrelated to their weight and has progressed severely because it went untreated. Fat people are often mistreated and looked at with disgust and disdain in medical settings, leading them to avoid going to the doctor in shame or fear of abuse. This can seriously worsen health issues. Fat stigma in the medical establishment (Puhl, et al, 2012) and society at large arguably (Engber, 2009) kills more fat people than fat does (Teachman, et al, 2003), (Chastain, et al, 2009), (Sutin, et al, 2015). This impact is too significant not to be taken under consideration.

Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness

The issue of anti-fat bias is directly rooted in white supremacy. The ideal thin body was constructed as a marker of whiteness and “purity” before any of this was ever made to be about health. Dr. Sabrina Strings has spent her career studying this history. In her book, Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, Dr. Strings discusses how constructions of race led to the thin ideal. “Over the decades, the rise in biracial children would break down the way that slave owners saw Blackness and whiteness. To combat the hypocrisy they created, owners invented new ways to dehumanize the enslaved population. They made a calculated decision to start putting more value on white physiques versus Black ones. In her research, Strings found that Black women’s bodies were otherized even more than Black males. For colonizers who hadn’t seen diverse body types before, they quickly categorized the Black female figure as ‘deviant,’ ‘greedy,’ and ‘overtly sexual.’ The fact that we still use these terms to describe fat bodies today is all the evidence we need to understand that fatphobia is directly linked to racism, not health. This mindset was also strengthened by Protestantism. Slave owners looked for any way to prove their power over the enslaved people, and they frequently used religion as ‘proof’ of their racist superiority. Additionally, Protestant belief encouraged various ways to become closer to God, which included eating as little as possible. This would resonate the most with white women. They had as much to do with perpetuating fatphobia as their husbands. White women were desperate to show their own power against Black women on the plantation, and the difference between their bodies was the perfect rift. And so began the centuries-old belief that thinness is beautiful, and fatness is ugly” (Sassenrath, 2023).

Revisiting the Journal with Context

Thinness has been an important value throughout history in the United States. Our positive associations with thinness and negative associations with fatness have led to a collective schema that is black and white, good versus bad, beautiful versus ugly, healthy versus unhealthy, and life versus death. This has led the FDA to approve Wegovy as a weight loss drug with haste, after just sixteen months of testing. It is known that going off the drug will result in rapid weight regain, so patients are expected to be on it for the rest of their lives when there have been no long-term studies. We do not yet know if the drug will have long-term effects, yet it has been approved for kids as young as twelve (FDA, 2021). As of July 2024, Novo Nordisk has a market cap of $633.01 billion (Marketcap). 

Wegovy is prescribed along with diet and exercise, which has been proven to lead to weight regain and eating disorders. Patients are being prescribed Wegovy and Ozempic when they are fat, but otherwise metabolically healthy. If this drug is truly a game changer for public health, we should be measuring how patients' health improves over the long-term rather than how much weight they lose. For example, if these drugs improve heart health, they should be prescribed as a heart health medication for patients with heart disease, rather than prescribed as a weight loss fix based on body size alone. With the evidence we have, we know it is possible to be fat and healthy, so these drugs may be solely cosmetic in many cases.

Future

If we want to improve the lives of fat people, we will remove barriers to care, not try as hard as we can to make all fat people disappear. That will never happen. If we truly cared about the well-being of fat people and not their disappearance, we would work to dismantle the systems that oppress them and abolish anti-fatness. 

Currently, fat people have next to no legal protections for being discriminated against (NAAFA, 2023). Fat people are denied housing, (Kariss, 1977) jobs, and receive less pay and promotions legally because of their size (The Economist). They are denied access to clothing, seating, transportation, and other human rights because infrastructure has been designed to exclude them. Fat people have less likelihood of receiving a fair trial (Beely, 2013), and are denied necessary surgeries (Barrett, 2022) ––but not weight loss surgery that amputates the digestive tract. Fat people are denied gender-affirming care (Conley, 2023), in vitro fertilization and reproductive healthcare (Muir, 2024), even adopting children (Carter, 2009). Fat children have been removed from their loving parents because when their diets failed, it was seen as neglect (Badshah, 2021). Fat people have disproportionately high suicide rates (Wagner, et al, 2013), and are facing medical malpractice and mistreatment (Kolata, 2016).

Can a drug fix that?

References

Karasu, Sylvia. Adolphe Quetelet and the Evolution of Body Mass Index (BMI). Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-gravity-of-weight/201603/adolphe-quetelet-and-the-evolution-of-body-mass-index-bmi 2016, March 8.

“Quetelet, Adolphe.” Eugenics Archive, www.eugenicsarchive.ca/connections? id=5233cb0f5c2ec5000000009c. Accessed 5 July 2024.

Rey-López JP, de Rezende LF, Pastor-Valero M, Tess BH. The prevalence of metabolically healthy obesity: a systematic review and critical evaluation of the definitions used. ObesRev.2014 Oct;15(10):781-90. doi: 10.1111/obr.12198. Epub 2014 Jul 16. PMID: 25040597.

Matheson EM, King DE, Everett CJ. Healthy lifestyle habits and mortality in overweight and obese individuals. J Am Board Fam Med. 2012 Jan-Feb;25(1):9-15. doi: 10.3122/jabfm.2012.01.110164. PMID: 22218619.

Butler, Kiera. “Why BMI Is a Big Fat Scam.” Mother Jones, 25 Aug. 2014, www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/08/why-bmi-big-fat-scam/.

Kahn BB, Flier JS. Obesity and insulin resistance. J Clin Invest. 2000 Aug;106(4):473-81. doi: 10.1172/JCI10842. PMID: 10953022; PMCID: PMC380258.

Cofield SS, Corona RV, Allison DB. Use of causal language in observational studies of obesity and nutrition. Obes Facts. 2010 Dec;3(6):353-6. doi: 10.1159/000322940. Epub 2010 Dec 10. PMID: 21196788; PMCID: PMC3280017.

Medvedyuk, S., Ali, A., & Raphael, D. (2017). Ideology, obesity and the social determinants of health: a critical analysis of the obesity and health relationship. Critical Public Health, 28(5), 573–585. https://doi.org/10.1080/09581596.2017.1356910

Kahn BB, Flier JS. Obesity and insulin resistance. J Clin Invest. 2000 Aug;106(4):473-81. doi: 10.1172/JCI10842. PMID: 10953022; PMCID: PMC380258.

Lavie CJ, Milani RV, Ventura HO. Obesity and cardiovascular disease: risk factor, paradox, and impact of weight loss. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 May 26;53(21):1925-32. doi: 10.1016/ j.jacc.2008.12.068. PMID: 19460605.

Uretsky S, Messerli FH, Bangalore S, Champion A, Cooper-Dehoff RM, Zhou Q, Pepine CJ. Obesity paradox in patients with hypertension and coronary artery disease. Am J Med. 2007 Oct;120(10):863-70. doi: 10.1016/j.amjmed.2007.05.011. PMID: 17904457.

Mullen JT, Moorman DW, Davenport DL. The obesity paradox: body mass index and outcomes in patients undergoing nonbariatric general surgery. Ann Surg. 2009 Jul;250(1):166-72. doi: 10.1097/SLA.0b013e3181ad8935. PMID: 19561456.

Tseng CH. Obesity paradox: differential effects on cancer and noncancer mortality in patients with type 2 diabetes mellitus. Atherosclerosis. 2013 Jan;226(1):186-92. doi: 10.1016/ j.atherosclerosis.2012.09.004. Epub 2012 Sep 21. PMID: 23040832.

Sutin, A. R., Stephan, Y., & Terracciano, A. (2015). Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality. Psychological Science, 26(11), 1803-1811. https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797615601103

Tomiyama, A Janet, et al. “Long‐term Effects of Dieting: Is Weight Loss Related to Health. Socialand Personality Psychology Compass, 6 July 2017, escholarship.org/uc/item/0tv27311.

Mann T, Tomiyama AJ, Westling E, Lew AM, Samuels B, Chatman J. Medicare's search for effective obesity treatments: diets are not the answer. Am Psychol. 2007 Apr;62(3):220-33. doi: 10.1037/0003-066X.62.3.220. PMID: 17469900.

Patton GC, Selzer R, Coffey C, Carlin JB, Wolfe R. Onset of adolescent eating disorders: population based cohort study over 3 years. BMJ. 1999 Mar 20;318(7186):765-8. doi: 10.1136/bmj.318.7186.765. PMID: 10082698; PMCID: PMC27789.

Puhl, Rebecca, and Kelly D. Bronwell. “Bias, Discrimination, and Obesity.” Obesity Research, 6 Sept. 2012. doi.org/10.1038/oby.2001.108

Engber, Daniel. “Glutton Intolerance: What If a War on Obesity Only Makes the Problem Worse?” Slate, https://slate.com/technology/2009/10/the-health-effects-of-discrimination-against-fat-people.html 5 Oct. 2009.

Teachman, B. A., Gapinski, K. D., Brownell, K. D., Rawlins, M., & Jeyaram, S. (2003). Demonstrations of implicit anti-fat bias: The impact of providing causal information and evoking empathy. Health Psychology, 22(1), 68–78.

Chastain, Ragen. “So My Doctor Tried to Kill Me.” Dances With Fat, https://danceswithfat.org/2009/12/15/so-my-doctor-tried-to-kill-me/ 15 Dec. 2009.

Sutin AR, Stephan Y, Terracciano A. Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality. Psychol Sci. 2015 Nov;26(11):1803-11. doi: 10.1177/0956797615601103. Epub 2015 Sep 29. PMID: 26420442; PMCID: PMC4636946.

Sassenrath, Jenna. “Anti-Blackness Is Anti-Fatness in ‘Fearing the Black Body.’” Bookstr, bookstr.com/article/anti-blackness-is-anti-fatness-in-fearing-the-black-body/ 26 July 2023.

“Novo Nordisk (NVO) - Market Capitalization.” CompaniesMarketCap.Com - Companies Ranked by Market Capitalization, companiesmarketcap.com/novo-nordisk/marketcap/ 2024.

Commissioner, Office of the. “FDA Approves New Drug Treatment for Chronic Weight Management, First since 2014.” U.S. Food and Drug Administration, FDA, www.fda.gov/news-events/press-announcements/fda-approves-new-drug-treatment-chronic-weight-management-first-2014. 5 July 2024.

Karris, L. (1977). Prejudice against Obese Renters. The Journal of Social Psychology, 101(1), 159–160. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224545.1977.9924002

“Campaign for Size Freedom.” NAAFA, 2023,

naafa.org/sizefreedom. 5 July 2024.

“The Obesity Pay Gap Is Worse than Previously Thought.” The Economist, The Economist Newspaper, www.economist.com/finance-and-economics/2023/11/23/the-obesity-pay-gap-is-worse-than-previously-thought. 5 July 2024.

Elizabeth Beety, Valena (2013) "Criminality and Corpulence: Weight Bias in the Courtroom," Seattle Journal for Social Justice: Vol. 11: Iss. 2, Article 4. https:// digitalcommons.law.seattleu.edu/sjsj/vol11/iss2/4

Berrett, Martyn. “More Obesity Discrimination: The NHS Will Deny Non-Urgent Surgery to Obese Patients.” Healthier Weight, 24 Nov. 2022, www.healthierweight.co.uk/blog/more-obesity-discrimination-the-nhs-will-deny-non-urgent-surgery-to-obese-patients/.

LaRosa, John. “U.S. Weight Loss Industry Grows to $90 Billion, Fueled by Obesity Drugs Demand.” Market Research Blog, The Freedonia Group, Inc., 2 May 2024, blog.marketresearch.com/u.s.-weight-loss-industry-grows-to-90-billion-fueled-by-obesity-drugs-demand.

Conley, H. “Studies Show Top Surgery Is Safe for FAT Patients, but Some Surgeons Still Mandate Weight Loss.” STAT, 25 July 2023, www.statnews.com/2023/06/02/top-surgery-safe-fat-patients/.

Muir, Becca. “Opinion: Women with Obesity Are Often Restricted from IVF. That’s Discriminatory.” NPR, 14 Jan. 2024, www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2024/01/14/1224546666/opinion-women-with-obesity-are-often-restricted-from-ivf-thats-discriminatory.

Carter, Helen. “Too Fat to Adopt - the Married, Teetotal Couple Rejected by Council Because of Man’s Weight.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 13 Jan. 2009, www.theguardian.com/society/2009/jan/13/adoption-rejected-couple.

Badshah, Nadeem. “Two Teenagers Placed in Foster Care after Weight Loss Plan Fails.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 11 Mar. 2021, amp.theguardian.com/society/2021/mar/10/two-teenagers-placed-in-foster-care-after-weight-loss-plan-fails.

Wagner B, Klinitzke G, Brähler E, Kersting A. Extreme obesity is associated with suicidal behavior and suicide attempts in adults: results of a population-based representativesample. Depress Anxiety. 2013 Oct;30(10):975-81. doi: 10.1002/da.22105. Epub 2013 Apr 10. PMID:23576272.

Kolata, Gina. “Why Do Obese Patients Get Worse Care? Many Doctors Don’t See Past the Fat.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 26 Sept. 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/09/26/health/obese-patients-health-care.html.

[stump-not-found]

hrgh rambled on vc about theraprism bill for hours and i woulda kept doing it . will tuck it safely under the read more

institutes are banal in their cruelty . agency is a complicated subject . bill is a cornered rat who's always been a cornered rat . what does he look like in a scenario where he's back at square one ?

i think he'd lock tf in honestly . tbob wasn't a bad attempt . like the book was a mess of him oversharing, but he managed to get something out the door that wasn't meant to . high security facility for tyrants and he still slipped something thru the cracks -- that's interesting ! i wanna play in that space which takes into account bill cipher is competent and more than willing to rip his fate out of the jaws of whatever sick punchline the universe is setting up for him

i think bill cipher can have his moments of patheticness . he's fun to put in the blender for a lil bit i also enjoy a bill cipher jamba juice from time to time

i just also think he got where he was in life for a reason . he's charismatic . he's funny . people genuinely like him, a natural born cult leader . he's extremely smart, and knowledgeable . he's willing to do a lotta shit most people wouldn't which already puts him ahead of the game

i think the thing that's the most fun about bill being in the theraprism is when you acknowledge he's a person . he's been put in a place where he no longer has any agency . his entire life has been chasing any scrap of agency he can get, and never feeling like he's got it . i love that thread, because this wouldn't be anything new for him -- bill's never had agency as far as he's concerned . always clawing his way for the right to exist

he's a cornered rat, he's always been a cornered rat, and he's gotten pretty god damn good at clawing his way back to the top . i think it's fun being able to explore what that looks like, how that power struggle would function in a place where he is pretty well and truly powerless

then if you throw ford into the mix, now he's got a wedge . and it's fun playing with bill trying to reconcile the ways he wants to use ford as leverage, with the reality that ford is his weakness . that doesn't change just because bill beefed it big time . the fact he won't acknowledge that just about dooms him to it, and that's awesome . i love cycles man. keep pretending that love did not undo you in a mind-bogglingly brief amount of time, i'm clapping and cheering about it yippeeeeee

ohhh it's just so fun . take my man and have him lock tf in . i wanna see him clawing at those walls and being a genuine threat to the system, while coming to terms with the fact that reincarnation is just about inevitable

it's such a weird fucking situation . you can talk so much about personhood, and agency, and how he took those things from others, but like . dude you still deserve to be a person . you still deserve to be treated well . so did all the people you hurt . theraprism presents such a good pressure chamber to have a narrative exploring how someone like bill reconciles those facts, if ever

rooting for you man . i think your success is more narratively interesting than failure

oh goddd and don't get me started on the meta implications of reincarnation as a narrative representation of how so frequently "character redemption" equals the death of the original character, replacing them with someone completely different, usually "good" and "domestic" hhhhhhh

turn him into a moth . turn him into a human . at the end of the day his personality has been so twisted and warped it's not even the same person anyways

my tuoyyyyys

[dedeinthewild]

george weasley x reader, friends to lovers

- “—I suggest you learn how to stand without a crutch.”

summary : it's like they can't function without that little interaction, the one that infuriates Snape but makes McGonagall smile at the sight. They're never distracting, and they work obnoxiously well together.

Sixth Year had welcomed them with open arms — with breakfasts in the Great Hall now turned into a refuge for stressed-out students, and hours lost in the library over pumpkin juice and ink-smudged notes.

Autumn had swept in with it the rising expectations of the professors, all preparing their students for the NEWTs they’d sharpen the following year. And so everyone had started wandering the corridors smelling faintly of scorched lavender from Potions class, reading letters from home while poking at dinner.

But there was something different in the air that year. Maybe it was the feeling of nearing the end of their Hogwarts days, or maybe the taste of freedoms they’d longed for ever since the Sorting Hat had first been lowered onto their heads.

That day, students were standing before Professor Snape, listening as he explained the use of new ingredients they'd cultivated during Herbology. He handed each of them a new textbook to keep. His black hair framed an expression even more sour than usual — the one he wore whenever Gryffindors were paired with Slytherins for the practical part of the lesson.

His eyes, predictably, drifted to the back of the classroom, to the same sight he’d been met with for years. George Weasley was standing there, spinning a quill between his fingers, while his loyal partner in green had her head gently resting against his arm — her usual place.

As if — be it summer or winter, whether they'd just witnessed a girl being petrified or the latest prank from that ever-famous Gryffindor trio — they always ended up there. On the shiniest tile of the Potions classroom floor, her voice low and steady as she explained the diagrams Snape had handed out at the start of class.

George always kept an eye on Snape. She, meanwhile, was already memorizing the measurements of each ingredient, with that soft smile she wore whenever something truly captured her interest.

She loved Potions. Or maybe — she loved every class, really.

They’d made it through the winter wrapped in their robes, and now the dungeons were warming with spring's return — that heady, reckless warmth that made you want to spill out onto the grounds, maybe even wander past Hagrid’s hut just because.

But Snape’s dramatics anchored them all to the floor. And he kept watching the way George and the Slytherin girl worked together — now seated, elbows brushing.

She was peeling a root. George was copying her notes, gripping his quill between thumb and forefinger, the other hand flat on the parchment to keep it still. When they moved to the brewing, George rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, stirring with a focus he had never once shown in Snape’s classroom. She had once again leaned lightly against his arm, reading instructions with a lock of hair slipping past her nose.

“Miss ____,” Snape drawled, voice dry as bone. “I presume Mr. Weasley is now your official emotional support twin?”

She didn’t look up, simply poured a vial of extract into the potion.

“Must I remind you that your role in this classroom is not decorative?”

“No, sir.”

Her voice was calm, respectful, measured. When she stood upright again, shoulders square, nobody noticed the way George took half a step closer — just enough to read over her shoulder again.

Around them, caldrons hissed and spit. One group’s potion billowed black smoke; another had achieved a murky green sludge. But beneath Snape’s ever-watchful eye, the pair — the pair he least tolerated — had brewed something perfectly clear, subtle, and steady.

They had met in third year, back when they'd started chatting in the hallway outside Transfiguration. Sometimes they’d trade chocolate frogs, sometimes just keep each other company between lessons — him with his half-muttered jokes, her with that crystalline laugh that rang through even the quietest corners of the castle.

By fourth year, they were hiding behind stone arches after mischief with Fred, then reappearing like nothing happened — her returning to being the straight-A student no one really knew, because there was always someone louder, someone flashier. But with George, she never had to be the best. She didn’t even have to prove she could be.

He handed her ink before she could ask. Waited for her by the common room door when he knew her day had been long, just to walk her down to the wooden bridge and sit there in silence until dinner.

“If your proximity to Mr. Weasley is required for his comprehension,” Snape said now, placing a hand on her shoulder as she adjusted the flame beneath the caldron, “I suggest you consider tutoring him outside of scheduled class hours.”

“I’m not tutoring him,” she replied, unshaken. She’d grown used to Snape’s tone — the way he never quite accepted that George was improving in his classroom. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Snape squinted at George through the veil of his black hair, as if he’d just caught him stealing dittany from his personal stores.

George, for his part, was silently slicing the last root, movements precise, mouth set in quiet focus.

Their sides touched — her stirring, him cutting — a small, easy closeness that spoke more than words ever could.

“Remarkable,” Snape murmured. “He’s learned something. And yet your elbow appears permanently fused to his arm.”

George didn’t even look up. His knife slid cleanly through the root.

Snape leaned in slightly, head between theirs.

“You may not be speaking,” he said coolly, “but some distractions, Mr. Weasley, are visible rather than audible. You take up more space than your marks suggest you deserve.”

The class reeked of burnt lavender, and yet the air was warmer than usual. The lesson ended — at last — and Snape made his final lap around the classroom.

He declared another group’s cloudy, oversteeped potion the best of the lot. Not theirs — even though he knew it was superior, flawless in technique and result.

He gave ten house points to a pair of Slytherins whose work didn’t hold a candle to theirs.

That evening, on the bench in the quiet courtyard, they laughed over it all — at Snape’s face, at his comments, at how he just couldn’t stand the fact that they worked better together than any student pairing he’d ever tried to engineer.

“And you, if you plan to succeed in this subject—” she imitated, dramatically, “—I suggest you learn how to stand without a crutch.”

The sun hung lazily above them, catching on the edges of the grass that George was fiddling with in one hand.

He lay almost fully stretched out on the lawn, nose scrunched, smiling lazily as he pretended to reread her notes.

She sat upright beside him, head tucked against the curve of his shoulder and chest — because that was always where she ended up.

And he never moved.

“You reckon,” she added, “Snape keeps a personal diary of all the ways he wants to sabotage our friendship?”

“With headings and bullet points.”

She picked a few little flowers from the grass, pressing them between the pages of her book, while George had abandoned the notebook beside them and closed his eyes.

“Daily entries,” she insisted.

“‘April tenth: Miss _____ smiled at Weasley again. Points deducted on principle.’”

And the Slytherin burst into that crystalline laughter—the one that had brightened George’s days ever since he handed her one of his creepy crawlies during Divination class a few years back. He looked at her, hands folded behind his head, lips parted in amusement.

“He probably cries into his robes.”

“We’re his worst nightmare,” she said, turning to rest her chin on the boy’s chest, her face tilted slightly, lit by the lazy sun that had begun to signal the arrival of evening—when fireflies flickered and seventh years dashed off toward Hogsmeade.

“And each other’s favorite person,” replied the redhead, reaching out to affectionately tap her nose, with no awkward pause, knowing how easy it was for them to spend time like this—without the heavy questions that might make things complicated.

“D’you think McGonagall finds us annoying, too?”

“She gives us house points when she thinks no one’s watching.”

George grabbed the notebook again, mumbling something about her handwriting being illegible, which earned him another smile from her and a delightfully witty comeback.

Still full of pumpkin juice and the delicious treats that always appeared on the Great Hall tables in the morning, they’d headed to Transfiguration class, where tall windows cast soft morning light across their faces. George had arrived first, walking casually, a bluish glint masking his freckles as he slid into their usual seat—always at the back, far right, behind Fred and Lee, who were certainly going to be late.

As usual, he laid down his parchment and quill on the desk, fiddling with the cap of the ink bottle while Professor McGonagall prepared the lesson behind her desk. She arrived a bit later, delayed by a Hufflepuff girl who’d asked her for help with a Herbology assignment that would otherwise have interfered with Quidditch. The light catching her face came in gold tones from the lower part of the windows, and she lingered at the doorway to grab a few more parchments before sitting beside the redhead. The usual scent of burnt lavender from the dungeons had been replaced by the warm aroma of wood and ink in the Gryffindor head’s classroom—but what hadn’t changed was how close the two of them always sat.

“Excellent, Miss ______” said the professor, her voice kind.

The Slytherin had just transfigured a matchstick into a silver pin under George’s attentive gaze, as he observed closely, memorizing everything she did even though she never had to turn to see him do it. When she noticed McGonagall standing in front of her, she paused for a second, moving slightly away from George, but the professor raised her hand slightly, as if to say not to worry, her glasses low on her nose.

“Mr. Weasley,” she added, “you seem to be concentrating harder in my class than you ever have before.”

“Suppose I’ve upgraded my seat, Professor.”

McGonagall had grown used to scanning her classroom, catching boys testing their wands and girls adjusting their hair when students from other houses entered. Most always sat in the same spots, forming patterns they assumed she didn’t notice—but her gaze often landed on that last row in the back-right corner.

Y/L/N and Weasley. They didn’t talk loudly or whisper like the others; they gave each other their full attention, absorbing one another. Perhaps McGonagall had been the first to notice how they always gravitated toward the same anchor point, their little corner.

And when the girl rested her head on the arm of the boy—so much taller and broader than her—it was never out of exhaustion or flirtation like others who slouched or bumped shoulders teasingly. She simply leaned on his shoulder, and neither of them ever seemed to mind. George never got distracted, even though he had never once paid attention with Fred. He didn’t look down at her or get lost in her—he just made sure she was comfortable, jotting down a few notes here and there. They had never been distracting—and never would be. But they were always noticeable.

“Five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin,” she said, “for correct technique… and improved discipline.”

George smiled as he watched her walk away. And let himself toss out a small joke that made the girl next to him laugh.

“Do you think she’s going soft in her old age?”

She handed him another parchment, amused. Every point their houses earned came directly out of Snape’s tally, who seemed increasingly unable to stomach watching one of his best Slytherin students bond so effortlessly with a Gryffindor—worse, a Weasley. He’d say she was competent, while George was just an accessory—and that his classroom was no stage for duets. All while George’s pinky wrapped gently around hers. And in all those times she handed him her quill, knowing exactly what he needed—or when he saved her from disaster, knowing she was brilliant but also hilariously clumsy—

George was improving, in all those evenings around the Gryffindor table, which had half-adopted her, one arm draped around her shoulders and his eyes on the napkin she used to explain things during the most random moments. And everyone saw the house points rising, despite Snape’s best efforts. And McGonagall was secretly pleased, her rare smile quietly revealing it.

By summer, they found themselves once again in the dungeons of the castle, the scent of potions embedded in their memories, cauldrons bubbling, students anxious over the final Potions class before their seventh year. In the very back—where the shadows couldn’t reach—two figures stood behind their workstation, shoulders nearly touching as if silently reminding each other that they worked better together than alone. Their table was perfectly organized, ingredients balanced with care, and a shared checklist sat between them—half in her writing, half in his unexpectedly neat script.

The potion they had to brew was the hardest of sixth year—so complex that a single extra stir could curdle the entire mixture.

Most students had already given up. A Ravenclaw girl declared her defeat after spilling a foul-smelling mess on the stone floor, while a few Gryffindors muttered frantically about smoke and whether they’d added the right amount of feathers. Through the chaos, Snape’s voice cut like a crow through storm clouds over the Black Lake.

Meanwhile, she and George didn’t need to speak.

He lit the fire; she checked the temperature with the back of her hand, consulting the list while the Gryffindor ground moonstone in the mortar. And the most remarkable part? They hadn’t rehearsed this potion. Not once.

His movements blended with hers like they’d done it a thousand times before. Three clockwise stirs, she added an ingredient, one counterclockwise stir, five seconds of stillness—then repeat. The potion began to glow with a pearly shimmer and its unmistakable scent filled the air. She glanced up at George, breaking free from their shared rhythm, just as his lips curled into a small smile.

The classroom had quieted. Even Snape’s sighs were audible now. Everyone else had given up. Lee had been the last, his hand trembling when he saw the professor approach.

When Snape finally stood in front of their desk—the one he loathed most—they didn’t even look up. Their potion spoke for itself, releasing soft, perfect-colored puffs just as the textbook described, no trace of cloudiness.

For once, there was no mistake. Nothing to criticize.

“I assume,” Snape said at last, his voice like steel cooled in oil, “that Miss ______ brewed this alone. Mr. Weasley’s hands appear clean, for once.”

They didn’t answer. George picked up the final vial and poured it into the potion without a trace of tension, while she checked the temperature with unmatched precision. And that’s when Snape saw it. The perfect timing. The shared glances. The subtle nods, exchanged like silent cues.

“Is there a reason,” he continued, quieter now, “that the two of you insist on treating this classroom as if it were… a coordinated ballet?”

At that, they finally looked up. Matching, quietly confident smiles on their young faces.

The potion was complete. There was nothing left to say.

As Snape walked away, she rested her head on George’s arm, and he drew a line through the last step of the recipe. Once again, they had worked beautifully—in silence.

That evening, they returned to their usual spot on the grass, backs against the bench. Fred had joined them, watching as she scribbled something into a notebook and handed it to George.

“What in Merlin’s name was that today?”

They laughed, and George crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to lean against him. And she did—this time looking up at the boy’s smile. At the soft freckles on his nose. The ones she’d come to love all summer long at the Burrow.

“I think he didn’t know what to do with us,” she said. “No insults left. No points to take.”

funfact: the first complete fanfic I've written on wattpad was about George, and writing this imagine was like reconnecting with middle school me

[mrsfoone]

Because @foone is currently hyperfocused on watching let's plays of Blue Prince, I've learned a new fact about YouTubers.

They think the words "square" and "square root" mean to perform the same mathematical function.

In case anyone is unaware ... they are not equivalent. They're opposites.

[sunshine-on-marz]

Bad and better days

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

In which reader is stressed and Hotch is a gift giver.

Lots and lots of fluffy fluf (I’ll proofread later)

Very much inspired by @mariasont s ABSOLUTELY AMAZINGLY WONDERFUL bimbo assistant series that i literally can’t get enough of. If you even remotely enjoy this fic go read hers” series, and if you don’t like this fic, go read her other stuff. It’s worth it I promise!!!

“Sir!” You were practically a blur of pink as you run up to him, well, run as much as you can in your heels.

“Y/N, hi, what on earth could be this worrying-“ he checks his watch “-two minutes before the work day starts” he chuckles softly, an occurrence that seems to become less and less uncommon when you’re around.

“Well, sir, I was filing papers and I got a call- well you got a call which means I got a call which means I walked away from papers and when I stood up they fell on the floor and they’re time sensitive and-“ he cuts you off with gentle hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N do you need me to help you reorganize paperwork?” He asks, smiling softly at your frantic nodding. “Alright, lead the way, slower this time maybe?” He jokes, you laugh, he does his best to memorize the sound (not that he doesn’t already know it by heart). “Yes sir” you nod, turning to walk back to his office. And it really was just one file you’d knocked off the desk, but it wasn’t case paperwork that you could’ve easily picked up and reorganized, it was paperwork for Strauss, detailing a week worth of work in the bureau, along with staff ratings and a couple legal documents.

“I hope you know that this is not at all an inconvenience to me, we all make mistakes, if the biggest slip up this week is an unorganized file, I think we’d have to throw a party” he says, laughing softly, you do the same, the tension falling from your shoulders. “Yea, well, I was nervous to greet you with a screw up” you say, he puts down the papers to look at you.

“Y/N, you’re an amazing assistant, you’re great at your job and the million other things you do far outside of your obligations, this office wouldn’t function without you, I wouldn’t function without you, this-“ he taps the folder “-doesn’t even register as a screw up. Having to turn around the jet last week because Morgan forgot his phone? That was a screw up. JJ emailing a random cop witness statements from an unrelated case? That’s a screw up. You dropping a file? That’s not even a minor inconvenience. You’re alright.” His voice goes back to his normal tone at the end, but the gentleness is still very much there. He’d taken note of your stress the last few days. You’d clearly overworked yourself, something he knew would happen eventually. He was worried.

“Thank you, sir” you say softly.

“Aaron” he corrects. You must’ve looked like he asked you the square root of 43,862.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, your head dipping to the side

“Well I told you on your first day to call me Hotch, and you haven’t, so I’m seeing if telling you to call me Aaron will get you to tone down the formality.” He smiles. You laugh. He smiles harder.

“So should I call you Aaron or Hotch?” You ask, he shrugs.

“You can decide” his voice is even, but he can’t quite calm the grin still plastered to his lips.

“Alright, Aaron” you say, you feel like you broke some unspoken rule, but Hotch? He understands why sailors abandoned ship for sirens. He wants nothing more in that moment than to hear you say his name again.

But he just nods, going back to reorganizing papers. You pipe up with a question “should I go see if JJ has a case yet?”

“No, not yet, the work day started a few minutes ago, no need to rush her” he says, you nod.

“Should I-“ he cuts you off by putting his credit card down on the table. “You should go online and look for office supplies” he says, and once again, you look at him like a confused puppy.

“I talked to Strauss, we agreed that you do far too much around here to not have an office. It’s by no means extravagant, but I talked her into giving you the empty office” he says. You know exactly what he’s talking about, and it’s really not extravagant, it’s probably a little bit smaller than Penelope’s lair, but it’s right next to Hotch’s office and it’s big enough for a desk and a filing cabinet. You’re ecstatic.

“Really?!” You squeal, practically bouncing with excitement. “Really” he nods. You hug him, it’s awkward, you’re bent over to hug him while he sits. You don’t really mind, but Hotch wants to acknowledge your affection, so he stands and hugs you back. Wrapping his arms around you and gently rubbing your back. As you pull away you smile up at him.

“Thank you so much Aaron” you smile, he just nods to the card. “You’re very welcome, and get whatever you want for the office, don’t worry about the cost” he says, your eyes go wide.

“Oh no- I can’t. Really. I’d feel awful and-“ he cuts you off again.

“I mean it. Whatever. You. Want.” He says sweetly, but you protest again.

“I really can’t. I couldn’t.” You say, he nods “alright, send me what you like, if it’s not too much I’ll get it, then you can buy the rest, would that work?” He offers, you shake your head

“I can’t take your money-“ he once again, stops you. “It’s my final offer. I buy it all or I buy some. I want to do this for you” he says, you blush, he takes note. You nod.

“I’ll- uh- I’ll send you what I like” you say. He nods “good, you can start looking now if you’d like, I have to go talk to Rossi.” He says “don’t worry about anything else until we debrief alright? You’re officially on break.” He says, you nod. “Thank you. So much. For all of this” your sentence comes out in parts, like you’re building it once it’s already left your mouth. Hotch smiles. “Rest for a bit Y/N, you’ve more than earned it” he says as he leaves the office.

You have a nice, 20 minute break before the debrief. You get right back to business as usual, only adding in excited rambling on the jet too Spencer about how you plan to decorate your office, Hotch listened with a smile.

“Are you planning to eavesdrop on that poor girl the whole flight? Or are you just really interested in colored gel pens” Emily asks, tone teasing and sarcastic. Hotch rolls his eyes. “I have interests” he says, Emily grins. “Yea, you’re definitely interested in something” she says, Hotch laughs softly. “Maybe” he admits.

He knew that maybe was a definitely, so did Emily, but neither of them mention it. She drops the topic and he goes right back to listening in on you and Spencer.

The case goes by quickly. A less than 72 hour turn around. Hotch sends everyone home early when you get back. A small congratulations for a successful case. You, as always, stay behind when he does.

“Y/N, go home and rest” he says, you shake your head

“I’m fine to stay” you assure him, he won’t have it “you’ve been tired and stressed. Go home, rest, and come back tomorrow feeling a little better. That’s what I need from you.” He says it like an order, you honestly feel like you’ll get fired if you don’t go have a spa day. So you just nod. “Yes sir” you nod, putting down the files you were holding.

“Have a good night, Y/N” he says as you leave. “You too Aaron, head home at a good time, I’m sure Jack misses you”. He assures you he will. You nod and leave.

An hour later, you’re home, watching bad tv and eating take out, which absolutely counts as self care, when you get a text.

Hotch!: “Jack wanted me to tell you he says hi.”

You laugh and text back

-> “Awww!! Tell him I say hi back!!”

You don’t wait long for a response.

Hotch!: “He’s very excited to hear from you. Have you picked anything for your office?”

You smile

-> “I’ll have to babysit again sometime!!! And yes, here🙄 (but 4real, thank you so so so so much for paying. Absolutely don’t worry about anything thatz 2 expensive!!)” you text back, including an Amazon wishlist

The next day is normal. Completely average. No cases, no major drama. Just paperwork, random ramblings to Hotch about whatever is on your mind and gossip sessions in the bullpen. Good, but average.

Then the next day comes. And you squealed so loud that Derek thought he’d be on rat catching duty again. But nope, much better, you walked into Hotch’s office and were greeted with Amazon package after Amazon package.

Hotch smiled “I figured you’d be picky about how the office is set up, but I did come in early and set up your desk and filing cabinet.” You hugged him and probably thanked him a dozen times, excitedly rushing to Penelope’s office to get a decorating buddy.

He’d never admit this to you, but he confides in Rossi later that day that he never approved your office with Strauss, but he knew how happy it would make you, and he knew he wanted to be the reason you were that happy. He’d argue with his boss a million times to make you smile.

Your day was obviously above average, but Hotch’s was wonderful, just because he got to spend it watching you run back and forth with the biggest smile on your face. He knew he wanted you before, but now? God, he wanted to spend forever making you smile like that.

I pulled an all nighter and spent 2 hours in a haze writing this. I hope you like it!!!

Click here for more of my work

Please remember to reblog with feedback!!! It helps writers a lot and is how my work reaches more people!

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me—uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

[loganslowdown4]

I found an old post that had the core 4 banners from (I assume) the store with Patton Roman Logan and Virgil’s individual logos. These were from a bit before my time. The background symbols all have meanings so I’m going to attempt to explain them!

Here we go!

Patton’s Symbols

- Dog doodle (like the dog face emoji 🐶)

- Bitten cookie

- Rainbow

- Halo Smiley face 😇 (‘cause he’s an angel)

- Holding hands 🤝 emoji (friendship)

- Heart 🩵

- Scales of Justice ⚖️ (lawyer it up)

- Compass (it’s supposed to mean his ‘moral compass’ the direction he takes to do what’s right)

- Participation ribbon (from WDWGOOBITM)

Roman’s Symbols

- Fanfare trumpet (specifically the kind played before royalty make their entrance)

- Knight chess piece (Roman calls himself a knight, the piece symbolizes chivalry, tactics, and unconventional thinking in the game, reps his creativity as well)

- Shield (represents his logo)

- Gem (is in the shape of a double terminated rose quartz, this might be a Steven Universe reference too but I might be reaching lol)

- Down pointed sword (symbolizes peace , victory or end of conflict)

- Long flag on a pole (medieval flag of a knight)

- Diamond ring (represents romance and love, desire for a partner)

- Pawn chess piece (may be weakest piece but are stronger together and can become a queen (strongest piece in chess)if they reach the end of the board; it’s there to show Roman has to work hard to get to where he needs)

- Castle (matches the one on his logo)

- Banner flag (also matches the one on his logo) might also rep his red sash

- Crown on hair (Royal status)

Virgil’s Symbols

- Frown face, broken heart, scribbles (could be punk/emo (band) doodles but I couldn’t find if they were for something specific)

- Alternate meaning to scribbles could be symbol for Aquarius ♒️ which is Janus’ zodiac sign OR journal writing (journal entries seen behind Virgil in Moving On Part 2)

- Brain with lightning above (could represent a headache, mood swing or anxiety attack, definitely something in the ‘brain hurty’ category)

- Cloud (storm)

- Raindrops (more Storm symbols)

- X and skull symbols (I think that particular x is from a Green Day album)

- Semi-colon ; (reps depression, mental health, suicide awareness, it means ‘your story isn’t over’)

- Chemical compound symbol for serotonin (it regulates sleep, mood, and appetite, something Virgil needs regularly)

Logan’s Symbols

- E=mc2 (energy & mass are interchangeable… SCIENCE!)

- ? and ! symbols (reps asking questions and comprehension)

- Owl face (wise bird)

- Infinity symbol ♾️ (math term)(also could mean his work is never finished)

- Down pointing arrow (not 100% sure but I think it’s referring to logical NOR, in Boolean logic (branch of algebra), which is a truth function operator (which is what Logan reps: logic and truth))

- Alternatively the ‘down arrow’ could also be just a pencil ✏️ and I’ve made a mountain out of a molehill lmao

- Graduation cap with tassel (reps school completion)

- √☓ Square root of x (basic math problem)

- Bright light bulb (symbolic of having a good idea)

- Imaginary number symbol (Cursive ‘i’ in math)

- Computer monitor (for doing work)

- Glasses 👓

- ABC (he’s a teacher)

These are not 100% correct but Thomas and Joan I have no doubt wanted us to guess. I don’t know if they’ll be explained or have been explained in full but if they have, let me know! Or let me know what you think the symbols mean! Thanks for reading!

[seafoamreadings]

week of june 1st, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: venus loves love and romance of course but you having taurus for a second house gives you a unique relationship with venus in her first domicile - that is the venus of *money* and possessions. you earn it but you also attract gifts and trinkets. the one big caveat is that, while you should be enjoying luxury, you should not be overspending or overly frivolous about your material wealth.

taurus: your ruling planet venus comes home to your sign. embrace self love even as you love on others and don't hold back from adorning and beautifying yourself in whichever ways you like. people may try to tell you this sort of art is superficial/shallow/whatever, but you know it's magic.

gemini: we are in the midst of a very hyper-gemini period - not just this week! which overall is very good for you. don't let anyone push you into anything, though. they might try and they might be convincing but you will need to make the choice for yourself. an opportunity may be real or a bit of a scam - if not, at minimum everyone is acting in their own self interest. which is fine if it is your best interest too!

cancerians: something great is set to burst forth from your psyche/shadow much like athena from the forehead of zeus. except actually, it is jupiter (roughly zeus-equivalent) doing the emerging. anyway, he's not into your sign yet but he will be in just over a week and that brings you, and most of us!!, a lot of comfort, fortune, and blessings. your ideas at this time may feel hectic but they are precious.

leo: your reputation and public image can take almost any hit at this time, you don't even have to really work to protect it. and if there are no hits for it to take you just become a sort of golden child, perhaps doted on or granted special opportunities, in coming weeks.

virgo: mercury's interactions with the lunar nodes are, let's just say, inconvenient for you. if anything can make you believe free will doesn't exist it's a mercury-nodal square with one node in your sign. don't expect things to go according to even your best laid plans. consider reformulating them if you need to.

libra: your ruling planet venus leaves her detriment for her (other) domicile sign. while you may be completely non-taurean, you nevertheless have some affinity with that sign as a venusian. and this ingress brings you magic, an inheritance, or a marriage for wealth - maybe? but things of that kind.

scorpio: venus moves into taurus, your 7th house. for you that means sweeter partnerships, in love or any other manner. also possible, lucrative business alliances?

sagittarius: this *extremely* gemini-ish time puts a huge spotlight or a laser focus on your relationships and partnerships. whether that's good or bad depends on many individual factors; the energy is fairly neutral and yet has a bit of a trickster, chaotic element.

capricorn: venus heads at last for her domicile in taurus, your 5th house. so it's time to let your hair down and embrace your wild side. many would paint you as stuffy and overly down to business but your mythological roots involve the wild satyr pan himself so no one knows the value of a good time better than you!

aquarius: challenging for you though it may prove to be, this week is not for being overly intellectual. this is rather a time for sitting at home, and beautifying the home as a sanctuary and a cozy lair. your brain can run its basic functions but otherwise let it get some rest if it's remotely possible. maybe you need it for work or survival but do you really need to pick apart every text message, email, etc?

pisces: as if your ruling planet's antics since leaving your sign haven't been confusing and cloudy and muddy enough, this week further agitates the waters. don't expect too much to be solid. you're more comfortable than most in those kinds of ethereal realms anyway. remember, muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[math-journal2]

<— Unit 12 — Unit 🍑 — Unit 13 —>

Unit 🍑 : Parent Functions

Note:

Approach asymptote:

Rational___ 1/x

1/x^2

Max or Min:

Parabola ___ x^2

Absolute value__ l x l

Radical __ sqr root(x)

Page 37

[samplerbot]

Update notes: another batch of pattern PDFs is up! Regular versions + Pattern Keeper ones.

I also fixed a math error in the DMC color-calculating function.

Actually, math moment incoming:

The bot gets its colors from the PyPalettes library, which is designed primarily for people who want to make good-looking scatterplots and bar graphs. It has a couple thousand color palettes in it, and the bot takes one at random and uses its colors when it makes a sampler.

To convert those colors into DMC ones, it takes each sampler color's RGB colors (like '0, 0, 0' for black, or '255, 255, 255' for white) and treats each as essentially a 3D coordinate-- like with 'x, y, z' coordinates. Then it checks to find which of the existing DMC threads has color coordinates that are closest to it in that 3D space using the distance formula:

√((x₂-x₁)² + (y₂-y₁)² + (z₂-z₁)²)

(if you've made it to high school math, you should recognize this! it's the same as the regular 2D distance formula, but with three variables).

(also the bot doesn't actually bother with the square root, since it doesn't care what the distance is, just which possible distance is smallest).

Anyway I messed it up the first time, and had it cube the binomials instead of square them, which led to some kinda wack negative stuff happening. The effect on the samplers wasn't noticeable, except that some of the samplers had less-harmonious color palettes than they might have.

So-- the samplers might be a little prettier from here on out! Or possibly similarly-pretty, but the math that makes them is nicer, at least. :)

I have some big ideas for things I'd like to add next, but life keeps me busy~

And as always, feel free to @ the bot if you see any cool posts!

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Composite/Synastry Chart Observations & aspects 🪻🤍☁️

Hi friends! 🫶🤍 We’re going over composite chart observations. I really love looking into synastry and composite charts as there is so much to learn from. Enjoy! Please reblog, like and share your thoughts with me as it’s appreciated 💌

🖱️Composite Observations🖱️

Sun in the 10h- The father may be involved in the connection or relationship somehow. Whether it’s in a positive way or negative, the 10h can suggest the Fathers focus is on the relationship. Usually the father has strict roles, expectations, and is invasive in the relationship. If mars is placed here, the Father is aggressive, authoritative or has high standards. Its easy for the father to project his way of thinking onto the connection.

Scorpio mercury- Telepathy. Strong telepathy is associated with this placement, hidden knowledge comes to light in the connection through dreams, and intuition. It can also indicate a sense of privacy in the relationship, not being public, moving away from family roots/home to live a private life with the significant other. Or friend!

Moon in the 12h- Lots of emotional healing, transformation and realizations. Usually the 12h represents separation, retreat, isolation and healing in that, so the connection can experience breaks or endings. The 12h goes back to womb, where we were isolated, growing and life was being sustained. I think in this placement both learn to balance being with each other and alone to heal.

Chiron in the 1st- Healing insecurities regarding physical appearance, health, and the identity. In the connection both people go through awakenings and realizations about their values, beliefs and subconscious behaviors. Its possible someone could end up having a surgery as seen with this placement and it may highlight insecurities within the person.

Venus in virgo- Relationship is built off of some sort of practicality, help or function. For example you may have met this person because you needed their help, or they needed. Virgo is analytical here, so its possible someone was thinking of a future with this person. Likely would have been friends before lovers.

Aspects and how they influence the connection in synastry:

Whilst houses and signs are relevant, aspects are important because they show us how the individual/s show up in the connection. Houses and signs are expressions of energy, where/how it’s expressing itself. But aspects have to do with individuals.

🤍 Moon square ascendant- The moon person can bottle up their feelings in the connection towards the ascendant person, and may project their hurt instead of turning inwards to heal it. This can show up as the moon person finding faults in the ascendant person.

☁️Ascendant square Venus- The ascendant person may struggle with their values when it comes to love, either through codependency or shutting out love. The ascendant person if dealing with insecurities, can feel insignificant and compare themselves to the Venus person. The ascendant person may also have a striking first impression on the Venus person.

🪻Mars sextile ascendant- The mars person awakens the ascendant person. The energy here flows optimally and smoothly, and the ascendant person finds themselves enjoying the Mars persons influence. The mars person is captivating, powerful, and their energy is impactful on the ascendant person. Even if paired with water sign synastry, there will always be an underlying tone to the Mars person, in which they appear magnetic, fiery, and passionate. The mars person may be into fitness.

💌 Venus trine ascendant- The Venus person makes an appealing impression on the ascendant person. The ascendant person feels comfortable, cared for, and seen in a way by the Venus person. Also indicates the two have a lot in common, shared goals, shared experiences, and future ideas which causes them to bond. Shared belief systems. Family systems/childhood experiences may appear similar. Venus person may be into beauty of some kind!

☁️ Sun sextile moon- The sun person helps bring clarity, truth, and vitality to the moon person. Out of the dark, can the moon person find their peace and truth. When the moon person is with the sun, they feel accepted, harmonious, and present. The subconscious and conscious are balanced here, both have a willingness to learn from their past and heal from their mistakes. The sun person can be a teacher or someone who harbors a lot of philosophical knowledge.

🪻 Moon conjunct mercury- The moon person has a way of appealing to the mercury person, certain topics are easily had because the mercury person feels safe. The moon person organizes a calm and blissful space, and the mercury person opens up. There’s bliss, peace and spiritual communication between the two. The two almost read minds. Mercury person helps bring analysis to the moon persons emotions.

🤍 Mercury trine sun- The mercury person helps the sun person feel confident and seen. A bit of an ego boost as well. The sun person can help channel the mercury persons passions, and offer them a beautiful space for their creativity. The sun person loves to learn and listen to the mercury person. Lots of jokes and inner child healing. The sun person can share a lot of wisdom to the mercury person, and the mercury person bounces off of it with their ideas.

🪻 Neptune trine moon- The Neptune person is highly receptive of moods, emotions and spiritual telepathy. The moon person feels in touch with their deeper roots or spiritual self around the Neptune person. There may be illusions surrounding the dynamic, and emotional limitations will present itself to be healed. Be wary of rose colored glasses with this person and the connection! Overall it can be healed with attention and care 💗

☁️ Venus conjunct Jupiter- Lots of expansion and spiritual knowledge is gained through the connection. Usually the Jupiter person can have access to higher knowledge like college, but does not have to be. For example they may be well versed in a certain topic that appeals to the Venus person (shared interests) and its how they click. Somehow, the two keep adding on and on to the conversation and it flows.

Square aspects indicate growth and development. The moments of self actualization. Squares are not bad! They are fundamental to relationships and our inner journey as individuals. Where you have squares in your chart is actually your greatest power and strength.

That’s all! Thank ya’ll for reading & stopping by ☁️🤍 means the world to share this with you all. Please feel free to like comment and reblog! 🖱️🤍

Paid readings💗

[algebraic-dumbass]

this might be a dumb question but like. how do you learn math without a class/curriculum to follow. i have a pretty solid calculus understanding and I want to pursue more advanced math but like im not sure where to start. what even is like category theory it sounds so cool but so scary???. do you have any recommendations on specific fields to begin to look into/whether its best to learn via courses or textbooks or lectures/etc.? any advice would be super appreciated!! dope blog by the way

thanks for the compliment!

first of all it's not a dumb question. trust me i'm the algebraic-dumbass I know what I'm talking about. okay so uh. how does one learn math without a class? it's already hard to learn math WITH a class, so uhhh expect to need motivation. i would recommend making friends with people who know more math than you so you have like, a bit more motivation, and also because math gets much easier if you have people you can ask questions to. Also, learning math can be kind of isolating - most people have no clue what we do.

That said, how does one learn more advanced math?

Well i'm gonna give my opinion, but if anyone has more advice to give, feel free to reblog and share. I suppose the best way to learn math on your own would be through books. You can complement them with video lectures if you want, a lot of them are freely available on the internet. In all cases, it is very important you do exercises when learning: it helps, but it's also the fun part (math is not a spectator sport!). I will say that if you're like me, working on your own can be quite hard. But I will say this: it is a skill, and learning it as early as possible will help you tremendously (I'm still learning it and i'm struggling. if anyone has advice reblog and share it for me actually i need it please)

Unfortunately, for ""basic"" (I'm not saying this to say it's easy but because factually I'm going to talk about the first topics you learn in math after highschool) math topics, I can't really give that much informed book recommendations as I learned through classes. So if anyone has book recommandations, do reblog with them. Anyways. In my opinion the most important skill you need to go further right now is your ability to do proofs!

That's right, proofs! Reasoning and stuff. All the math after highschool is more-or-less based on explaining why something is true, and it's really awesome. For instance, you might know that you can't write the square root of 2 as a fraction of two integers (it's irrational). But do you know why? Would you be able to explain why? Yes you would, or at least, you will! For proof-writing, I have heard good things about The Book of Proof. I've also heard good things about "The Art of Problem Solving", though I think this one is maybe a bit more competition-math oriented. Once you have a grasp on proofs, you will be ready to tackle the first two big topics one learns in math: real analysis, and linear algebra.

Real analysis is about sequences of real numbers, functions on the real numbers and what you can do with them. You will learn about limits, continuity, derivatives, integrals, series, all sorts of stuff you have already seen in calculus, except this time it will be much more proof-oriented (if you want an example of an actual problem, here's one: let (p_n) and (q_n) be two sequences of nonzero integers such that p_n/q_n converges to an irrational number x. Show that |p_n| and |q_n| both diverge to infinity). For this I have heard good things about Terence Tao's Analysis I (pdf link).

Linear algebra is a part of abstract algebra. Abstract algebra is about looking at structures. For instance, you might notice similarities between different situations: if you have two real numbers, you can add them together and get a third real number. Same for functions. Same for vectors. Same for polynomials... and so on. Linear algebra is specifically the study of structures called vector spaces, and maps that preserve that structure (linear maps). Don't worry if you don't get what I mean right away - you'll get it once you learn all the words. Linear algebra shows up everywhere, it is very fundamental. Also, if you know how to multiply matrices, but you've never been told why the way we do it is a bit weird, the answer is in linear algebra. I have heard good things about Sheldon Axler's Linear Algebra Done RIght.

After these two, you can learn various topics. Group theory, point-set topology, measure theory, ring theory, more and more stuff opens up to you. As for category theory, it is (from my pov) a useful tool to unify a lot of things in math, and a convenient language to use in various contexts. That said, I think you need to know the "lots of things" and "various contexts" to appreciate it (in math at least - I can't speak for computer scientists, I just know they also do category theory, for other purposes). So I don't know if jumping into it straight away would be very fun. But once you know a bit more math, sure, go ahead. I have heard a lot of good things about Paolo Aluffi's Algebra: Chapter 0 (pdf link). It's an abstract algebra book (it does a lot: group theory, ring theory, field theory, and even homological algebra!), and it also introduces category theory extremely early, to ease the reader into using it. In fact the book has very little prerequisites - if I'm not mistaken, you could start reading it once you know how to do proofs. it even does linear algebra! But it does so with an extremely algebraic perspective, which might be a bit non-standard. Still, if you feel like it, you could read it.

To conclude I'd say I don't really belive there's a "correct" way to learn math. Sure, if you pursue pure math, at some point, you're going to need to be able to read books, and that point has come for me, but like I'm doing a master's, you can get through your bachelor's without really touching a book. I believe everyone works differently - some people love seminars, some don't. Some people love working with other people, some prefer to focus on math by themselves. Some like algebra, some like analysis. The only true opinion I have on doing math is that I fully believe the only reason you should do it is for fun.

Hope I was at least of some help <3

[urialnathanonwright]

Trump’s War on Science: A Betrayal of Public Health and Common Sense

You ever hear a bad idea so blindingly stupid you have to stop and wonder if it was cooked up by someone actively rooting for humanity’s downfall? Well, Donald Trump has managed to pull a double-header in that department. First, his administration is plotting to halt federal funding for gain-of-function research—critical work that helps us understand and combat the next global pandemic. Second, Trump’s team wants to muzzle the CDC, NIH, and other federal health agencies, halting their ability to communicate with the public and fund life-saving research. Folks, this is not just incompetence; it’s a slow-motion catastrophe.

Let’s start with gain-of-function research. Now, I get it—making viruses more dangerous in a lab sounds like the start of a bad sci-fi movie. But the reality is this: it’s one of the best tools we have to predict and prevent pandemics. It’s like doing a fire drill—you simulate the worst-case scenario so you’re ready when the real thing happens. But Trump and his enablers, in their infinite ignorance, want to shut it all down. Why? Because a bunch of conspiracy-loving Republicans blame it for Covid-19, even though there’s zero evidence to support that claim. None. Nada. Zilch.

Let me be clear: killing this research won’t make us safer—it’ll leave us defenseless. You think other countries will stop doing this work? Of course not. China, Russia, and others will keep pushing the envelope, while we sit here twiddling our thumbs, pretending ignorance is a shield against viruses. Spoiler alert: it’s not. Pandemics don’t care about your politics. They don’t care if you think science is scary or inconvenient. They just spread—and if we’re not ready, people die. It’s that simple.

Now, let’s move on to the second act of this disaster: silencing our top health agencies. Trump’s HHS has decided that all scientific communications must be vetted by political appointees before being released. Translation: they’re putting public health in the hands of spin doctors. This isn’t just unethical; it’s dangerous. During a bird flu outbreak, they’re delaying critical reports. Scientists can’t publish data, can’t approve grants, and can’t even speak publicly without some bureaucrat rubber-stamping it first. And all this during a time when trust in public health institutions is already hanging by a thread.

Let me spell this out: these actions are not about protecting people. They’re about control. Trump and his cronies are weaponizing ignorance, suppressing inconvenient truths, and sabotaging the very systems designed to keep us safe—all for political gain. This isn’t just bad policy; it’s an abdication of responsibility, a betrayal of trust, and a clear and present danger to every single one of us.

So, what do we do? We fight back. We demand accountability. We refuse to let science be politicized by a man whose grasp of facts is as flimsy as his hairline. This isn’t about left or right—it’s about survival. If we let this slide, if we let Trump’s war on science go unchecked, we won’t just be risking the next pandemic—we’ll be inviting it. And when it comes, the blame will lie squarely at the feet of those who chose politics over progress and willful ignorance over wisdom. Let’s make sure history remembers their names—and ours, as the ones who stood up and said, "Enough."

[tenderjock]

"They're giving them souls, Giles."

She's not sure how the Initiative has figured out how to do it, with military machines and experimental scientific equipment in place of a dusty Romani curse. She thinks they're not entirely sure how they've done it either, that it's a lot of trial and error - Dr. Walsh basically admitted to that, when she told Buffy about their vampiric "re-consciencing" program.

"Dr. Walsh says it only worked for vampires," Buffy tells her Watcher. "She says other demons, they got zilch. Just nothing happens at all."

He finishes polishing his glasses, turns them over and starts polishing them again. "That makes some amount of sense, I suppose," Giles says. "Most demons have souls or - something that functions closely enough as a soul as to be called one, anyway. Vampires are the only demonic entity that are known for lacking a soul - or rather, that their evil comes from their lack of a soul rather than simply innate bloodlust or longstanding cultural practices or something of the sort."

"Whatever." Buffy resumes her pacing. "I'm supposed to do this tour of the Initiative tonight, so maybe I'll learn more about their re-consciencing department. It's giving me the wiggins, Giles."

"I know."

In preparation for going into potential enemy territory, Buffy puts on her cutest, most favorite halter top that doesn't come untied even when she does cartwheels and back flips, and a pair of sensible square-heeled boots. She puts her hair in a pair of neat French braids. She stows away two stakes, a small knife, and a scarf that could double as a garrote or a sling. Finally, she laces a cord choker around her neck, with a big cross pendant hanging on her collarbone, and surveys herself in the mirror. As ready as she's gonna get.

Buffy had been kind of worried that she'd have to hint and lead towards the whole soul-giving deal, but Dr. Walsh is more than happy to show off the program. She's bragging about it as soon as they're in the facility, which is giving off major evil-mad-scientist vibes.

"It took several trial runs to get the process stable for successful result," Walsh is saying. Buffy peers around, marking the exits in her mind, trying not to notice the way she's being deliberately flanked by Riley and Graham. "And then, after we succeeded in stabilizing the procedure, we had two subjects terminate."

Buffy looks at her, blinking. "Terminate?" she asks.

"Killed themselves," Riley says. "The subject we're studying currently, we've had to restrain so it doesn't do the same."

"You have one vampire right now?" Buffy asks. She'd thought that this soul-giving process was, like, a larger scale than one vamp. She'd assumed they'd be shoving souls up in dozens of the undead, as distasteful as she finds the idea. "How many - uh - 'subjects' have you done this with?"

Dr. Walsh gestures the three of them over to a cordoned-off lab set up, where Buffy sees a bunch of stuff, clothing and boots and stuff, laid out. It gives her an uncomfortable feeling - like that vamp girl that killed freshmen and stole their shit. How is this any different?

There's a familiar coat, a big black leather coat. Buffy stares at it for a second. She misses the first part of what Dr. Walsh says.

"- successfully managed to keep it restrained. Hostile 17 has proven very useful to our studies since it was re-conscienced."

"Hostile 17?" Buffy says, mouth dry.

Walsh pushes aside the sliding screen to show the rest of the room. There, naked, gagged, and tied to the operating table, is Spike.

He looks like shit. He's thin and kind of gray, the way a lot of vampires get when they're underfed, and he's got about a quarter inch of mousey brown roots. There are red marks around his wrists and ankles where it looks like he's pulled at the restraints until he's broken the skin, and he's got fresh, clinical-looking bruises on his left forearm and the left side of his abdomen.

Spike's looking at her. He's looking directly at her, and his eyes are wide and wild and agonized.

Buffy breathes in slow. Then she looks at Dr. Walsh.

"Do you keep the re-consciencing machinery here?" she asks. She knows damn well they don't. "Or is that in a different room?"

Dr. Walsh smiles, pleased by Buffy's interest. "We'll show you. It's fascinating, how it all works. This process could really change how we fight demons."

"Yes," Buffy agrees. She fumbles with her purse as they're leaving, spills makeup and tampons across the floor. Riley bends down to help her pick her stuff up. "Shit! Oh, no, I got it."

Spike's watching her still. He looks less upset, now. There's a little wrinkle in his brow.

Dr. Walsh and Graham have gone ahead; Riley is waiting for Buffy, but he's waiting at the open door, turned half away from her, giving her space to organize her feminine products.

She glances up at Spike, meeting his gaze. Swallows. And murmurs, under her breath so Riley can't hear, "I'm gonna get you out of here. Okay? Hold on. I'm gonna get you out."

Riley's still not looking, so she creeps a bit closer. Spike's leaning against his restraints like he's trying to get closer to her.

Quickly, Buffy touches Spike's bare shoulder. He goes tense and still, and closes his eyes. He's freezing, like he hasn't eaten warm blood in days. She nods, mostly to herself.

Then Buffy turns and leaves, without looking back.