#know what its not irrational its COMPLETELY rational FUCK YOU

[artisplatters]

"If planned parenthood killed a million puppies every year then would you care?"

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUU

FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID HEAD UP YOUR STANKY ASSHOLE FUCK YOU

THERE IS STILL A DISTINCT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LIVING BREATHING CREATURE AND A SOULLESS CLUMP OF CELLS NO MATTER THE SPECIES FUCK YOU

STOP WITH THIS STUPID CONTROLLING WOMB-HAVER'S BODIES AND CHOICES YOU SELF RIGHTOUS ASSHOLES

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

[pjsfvs]

Angry sex with Tyun

paring : dom!taehyun x afab!reader

warnings/tags : angry sex, window/wall sex, im to lazy to do the rest.

summary : You and taehyun get into a heated argument, which leads to some good angry sex.

a/n : don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

“Taehyun, I told you, I’m done talking about this. I said I was sorry.”

“You were being irrational, Y/N?! Seriously?! You can’t just go charging into my rehearsal like that begging me to come along with you, for fucking boba! What if the members got distracted. Hm? They could have been hurt or worse!”

“I get that you were worried about them, and I know I was wrong for doing that, but you're the one who told me you were on break. It is not my fault. You can't put the whole blame on me.”

“Your so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“God, can you shut up and listen to me!? I don't know why I have to re-explain this to you again.” Taehyun stare at you incredulously, ready to interrupt but you continue on, “You told me that you missed me, and I wanted to see you, so I came when you texted me you were on break.”

“How long do you think our breaks are huh? Knowing we're about to have a comeback. Just how fucking long do you think these breaks last!?”

The argument is never-ending. Sweaty and red-faced, Taehyun is so close. So close that you can still smell the scent of spear mint on his breath from the gum he's been chewing. So close that you can see the dark circles under his eyes from the sleepless night and the height of his body, creating a shadow over your body. Your chests touch, both heaving from yelling back and forth. Staring him in the eyes, you have nothing else to say; left to communicate all your frustration through a silent glare. Neither one of you wants to be the first to break.

“Taehyun, I’m done doing this whenever you and the guy have a comeback. You can’t keep telling me to come see you while on break, just to get pissed at me afterwards. I’m done with that. I’m fucking done.” You keep repeating that last line to yourself more so than to him. A realization coming over you that you might not just be done arguing with Taehyun over this particular topic. You might also be finished with your relationship. If he wouldn’t make time, to see you, what's the point. Just one fucking glance, that's all you could ask for. If this is what you had to go through each time, you weren’t sure you could handle it.

Through his anger, Taehyun gives you a look of desperation, hoping that you both could come to some agreement. Shaking your head, you turn and walk away. You have nothing left to give.

“No. You don’t get to walk away like you always do. Not this time!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and pressing you against the very door you were prepared to leave though. Pushing him away does nothing. He just comes back, forcing your back against the door again with a resounding thud. You want to deny it but the roughness of how he handles you causes a spark within you. You’re certain it’s affecting Taehyun too from the way his half-hard member brushes against you.

“Tyun…” You’re cut off by a passionate kiss. Your body denies your rational mind by returning the kiss. It’s nothing like your normal exchange. It’s heated, teeth clanging against each other, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and fighting for complete dominance.

Clothes are torn from each of your bodies, no care given to the sounds of ripping fabric and buttons hitting the floor. Your sole focus is on each other.

“Up” he commands, grabbing at your hips. Taking his cue, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Nipping along your jaw, he leaves a stinging trail of red marks on your skin. You hiss when bites down harshly at the juncture of your shoulder. Continuing on his intended path, Taehyun attaches his mouth to one of your perky nipples, swirling his tongue around it before sucking.

The heels of your feet pressed into his lower back, bringing him closer to your core. His throbbing member slips through your folds, pressing against your clit. Focused on your own pleasure now, you repeat the action, grinding yourself against his cock.

“Stop it.” He growls out in response to your tempting actions. The head of his member prods against your sensitive bud as Taehyun ruts his hips unexpectedly. You yelp in surprise but don’t stop.

“You need to fucking listen. You never listen.”

“Fuck you.” You retort, smirking at him in defiance.

“That’s what I plan on doing to do you, sweetheart.”

Not waiting for your reply, Taehyun enters your wet core without warning causing you to throw your head back. Any advantage you thought you had is now gone as you succumb to the pleasure. As you sink on to his thick cock, Taehyun groans lowly, enjoying the feeling of your warm pussy that is so inviting to slip into.

“Gonna fuck you so good.”

You chuckle at his comment, knowing it will provoke him. And that’s just what it does. Without pulling out of you, Taehyun unwinds your legs from his waist and pushes them towards your chest by the knees. The new position gives him a new angle to hit and he begins to thrust into you without control. His pace is frenzied and brutal as he abuses your pussy.

Clawing at his shoulders, your first orgasm washes over you but he gives you no time to bask in it. Even as your core clenches around his member, he continues to fuck you senseless, pushing you through your first orgasm and works you close to a second.

Taehyun watches, fully mesmerized, as his member pumps in and out of you. His cock is slick with your wetness making it easier for him to push back in and keep his rhythm.

“So close. Don’t fucking stop,” You announce your impending orgasm to him, not that he needed you to tell him. He knows from the way your core pulses that you’re almost there. So is he; ready to spill his load into you. Pumping into you deeper, Taehyun’s cock hits the perfect spot, causing jolts of electricity to course throughout your lower half.

Your second orgasm rocks you so hard and you go limp in his arms. A few more thrusts and he followed right behind you. His cock throbs inside you as his cum coats your walls. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Tae’s heavy breaths fan over your heated skin, sending a chill through you.

After helping you to wrap your legs back around him, he carries you to your shared bed; laying you down gently. Climbing in next to you, he tugs you to his chest making sure you are tucked comfortably against him.

“I’m sorry, ya know. You’re a damn good girlfriend, Y/N. I know that. I just don’t want anyone to get distracted and end up hurt because of you. If that happens, they might not let you visit the building anymore and I don't want that to happen.”

With much of your frustration gone, you realize you may have been too hard on Taehyun. He cares about you and doesn't want anyone on his team to get hurt.

“I know. I just want you to make some time for me. Even if its one minute of your time. I miss you."

"I know baby, I know. I'll try and make at least 10 minutes for you on busy days, on free days we can go on the cute dates you told me about doing. I promise."

[anamericangirl]

Someone replied to your "Show me where marriage is a right" with "The 14th amendment" so let's actually read that.

"No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws."

Let's break that down. So no individual state can make or enforce any law that abridges a person's rights, which meant "You can't say a person's vote counts as less than a vote" according to the official US Senate website, senate.gov.

Next: No state can deprive a person of life, liberty or property without due process of the law. This is a pretty simple one, you can't take away any of a person's rights unless they've had a fair trial to judge that.

And the last line just means "If it's illegal to kill someone, that means if a black person is killed it isn't legal just because they're black" in summary. Like everyone is protected by the law.

Nowhere in here or on Senate.gov's explanation does it mention anything that can even be strawmanned into meaning gay people deserve gay marriage. Props to that person who commented on actually pointing out where they thought it was mentioned but this doesn't appear to be it.

Now I do wanna say I'm fine with gay marriage being a thing, don't care, let em get married. If our government says we can gay marry, I guess we can gay marry.

But I will say, it's a religious ceremony, not a constitutional right. You don't just "have a right to marriage," that's not a right we have, at all, aside from religious freedom being our right.

It's not homophobic at all to say gay marriage isn't a constitutional right, because it isn't. That's just a fact. "Homophobic" is quite literally saying "I don't want gay people gettin' rights because I don't want them gays comin' onto me." That's literally being afraid of gay people.

Phobia isn't hate, phobia is fear. Fear that something will upset the natural order that your life has. Fear that you'll be challenged by the thing you're afraid of. Fear that it'll take away what you have. Fear that in the future that thing will have more rights and freedoms than you.

Phobia isn't just "I don't like that."

It's completely normal to have things you dislike. Just look at the liberal party and their seething irrational hatred for Donald fucking Trump.

But a phobia is not hatred, a phobia is fear. People need to get that right. "Homophobia" was literally coined because people were afraid gay people would become the status quo, gain more rights than straight people, and upset the balance of the atomic family.

And all those fears turned out to be rational because look where we are now.

I just knew as soon as I asked that someone was going to use the 14th amendment. Totally called it.

It's the favorite amendment of the left because since it's somewhat vague they try to use it to claim everything they like is a right. Hell, it's the amendment RvW used to pretend abortion is a constitutional right.

Their whole argument hinges on an implied right based on an implied right and that's weak at best. There is no implication in the constitution that marriage is a right and the only place you can find people claiming that the 14th amendment means marriage is a right is leftists who don't know what they're talking about.

They think if something isn't a constitutional right or a right at all that means people aren't allowed to do it or it's in danger of being banned, which just speaks to their extreme ignorance about literally everything.

There's nothing """""homophobic""""" about acknowledging marriage isn't a right. It's just true. And it's not bad that it's not a right. Not everything is a right.

The problem with leftists is they think feelings dictate everything because they run on feelings and emotions and wouldn't know a fact if it slapped them in the face but the problem with that is feelings don't dictate everything and reality exists outside of their emotions.

This has nothing to do with how people personally feel about gay marriage. Whether a person strongly opposes it or strongly supports it or just doesn't care one way or the other has nothing to do with whether or not it's a right. Gay marriage isn't a right, straight marriage isn't a right. Marriage isn't a right. All the leftists freaking out because they think if the federal government doesn't declare it a right that means states will ban it don't realize that any state that could ban gay marriage under these circumstances could just as easily ban straight marriage too.

But if the facts don't align with their feelings that's hOmOpHoBiC. And your definition of what homophobia actually is exactly right. But the left will never accept that because operating on the true definition means they will have to admit it's not nearly as prevalent as they say it is and they're not the victims they want so badly to be.

[writeouswriter]

pls no anti ai art demagogy on my dash, thx

(X) in reference to this reblog I assume.

This is the wildest ask I’ve ever gotten.

“Please no love for the humanity of creation on my dash, please. Please no acknowledgement that art and the human experience behind those making it is inherently and fundamentally intertwined. Please no shoving the fact in my face that art is meant to connect rather than consume.

And please no pointing out the basic truth that most AI engines are built off the stolen work of others.”

Demagogy, noun: political activity or practices that seek support by appealing to the desires and prejudices of ordinary people rather than by using rational argument.

You come into MY house, you tell me what not to reblog on MY blog, and you what? Call me “irrational” and insult my understanding of the topic in the process?

Political activity, political activity... fuck off. Actors, writers, artists, those most affected by this ARE the ordinary people, and their concerns and fears surrounding this are perfectly rational.

And you know, nothing hits it home more for me than when I thought about my favourite show at the moment, the one that makes me lose my mind a thousand times over, I thought about everything in it that makes me tick, thought about both strong points and weak points, because it is flawed, god, is it flawed because people inherently are, and that’s the beauty, but mostly, I thought about the sheer amount of care/thought and depth put into it in a way I've never really seen before and in a medium/genre/whatever you'd absolutely never expect to find that thought put into, especially if taken completely at a surface level. Thought about the levels of metaphor and symbolism layered in beneath the silliness, thought about the callbacks and clever timing, thought about the behind the scenes arguments about what direction worked best for the narrative and the audience, arguments that took place because of how much they cared not just about telling a good story, but about telling one that really means something to them.

Thought about the love, the time, the excitement and the flair and personality and background and intent of each and every person behind the team bleeding its way into the scripts, into the acting, into the heart of what makes it truly what it is, and how that love bleeds into the audience as well, how that love and human connection is what prompts people to write full page essays and analyses on it, draw fanart for it, create the most beautiful fics for it, that love is what prompts them to laugh and cry and vibrate at the speed of sound thinking about it, and what prompts thousands upon thousands to come together in their appreciation for and relation to it, rallying around it like a group of cavemen around a campfire when they had never before seen the flame.

And then.... then I thought about the idea of that same show being written by an AI and genuinely felt physically ill. Because no real care will have been put into that beyond "If it looks like a TV show, sounds like a TV show, it must be a TV show." And on the surface, maybe it’d look fine, I’m sure some people wouldn’t notice. But it’d not only be made without thought, but consumed without thought. And, sure, maybe that'll fill you up in the short term, but it's gonna leave you feeling hollow and sick eventually. Because stories are not a thing to be mass produced with a random assortment of the cheapest quality materials on a conveyor belt that shovels them directly into people's throats at the most efficient speed possible, stories are not a thing meant to just be consumed! They are a thing made with intent in every aspect, even when accidental because our lives shape it subconsciously, they are a thing made with love, a thing to be savoured! And yes, for that to happen, they will take a lot of time and hard work and dedication, all of which deserve fair compensation and respect, all of which cannot just be replaced by a sham amalgamation of these things, and they will be all the better for it.

And on some level, corporations know this, and they want you to blame their shortcomings on the writers, on the artists, they want you to look at things like the strikes and those rallying against AI and get mad that they’re keeping art from the common people, or forcing them to come to this, or they want you to think they’re simply trying to make art more accessible, all the while building their conveyor belts in the background with the blood of those they’re kicking down, taking away jobs and shoving the humanity out of the picture.

Art is made to communicate, and sometimes it’s frustrating when we can’t get that communication across, when the image we want to convey is out of our skill level, our capability, when our words get tangled up, jumbled together and we need a helping hand to find the right ones again, and on this level, maybe AI could be a useful supplemental tool, or a fun little thing to mess around with, if ethically sourced, if used for good, if taking into account and graciously acknowledging exactly how it’s being used as a tool, rather than trying to pass it off as something it’s not.

But is it political, is it irrational, to merely state that the human condition cannot be replaced?

——

The unfollow button is free, I don’t work for you.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

If we don't stop calling it "intelligence" it's going to kill us.

Everyone in this article is treating an algorithmic sorting device that pukes out the average of what you've fed it as either a simple tool (like a calculator) that performs repetitive tasks accurately, or a being with agency. And no in between.

My brain is fried, I've been fighting a malfunctioning website all day (which also has an AI option now!) and I just had to add a disclaimer asking people to please not feed my work to an AI. I've about had it.

AI is deciding how much staff a Canadian hospital will need! Based on what criteria? Well, they know they feed it information about the weather and the traffic and local events and it spits out a schedule. How? That, they don't know. That part's proprietary, it belongs to whoever built the damn thing. And no one seems to care.

Hospitals around here have been criminally understaffed for a very long time. What does that data sample look like? Well, there are a lot of people waiting 18 hours or more for care and many of them die, so that seems like the status quo! How did they correct for that? Did they correct for it? How about the part where certain people get substandard care or none at all?

"Learn how to use AI" seems to mean "learn how to push buttons on a black box programmed and curated by a corporation with no accountability." At the very least, these algorithms codify our biases uncritically, and nobody with human judgment is minding their decision-making process. "Learn how to fact-check AI" does not seem to be on the table. "Learn how to correct AI" is similarly absent.

Just use it. Like a calculator. You don't need to correct a calculator! Well, the more complex and opaque its calculations get, the more likely you do need to correct it.

Learn how to use it or risk losing your job. What a way to put it. Your money and your life. This thing is better at making money and products than you are! Yeah, no shit. It acts like a slave. But, previously, we've enslaved people with agency. These babies don't have that problem! They only act like they do sometimes because they're piggybacking off the sum total of our behaviour. All the good, and the bad, and the completely fucking irrational, and they can't tell the difference. Do we do it a lot? Then they'll give us more of the same!

It's just more automation! But it's not, because it's automating what we do, as if all of our actions are as necessary and rational as 1+1=2. We do some really self-destructive things we need to stop doing. If we bake that behaviour into our devices and get rid of the human beings capable of learning and growing, where do we go from there?

Do you like where we are now? Do you want it forever?

[splendidissimus]

late 2001 - Paranoia

((Content warning: anxiety / mental health issues ))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober-archive 2023: day 23: Its gonna get me by the end of the night. / Shadows / Stalking / "Who's there?" ))

((A couple months after the escaped Death Eater incident, which is largely what Theo's thoughts are referring to.))

Genre: hurt/comfort

Romance level: major

Angst level: 4/5

Draco's headspace: anxious / irrational -> frustrated

((words: ~1600))

------------------------------------

Knockturn Alley was dangerous. It was just a fact. It was where you went if you were looking for criminals, Dark wizards, and those better not seen with. Draco knew that. Even he, Malfoy or not, had almost been mugged there. 

Theo had begged him not to wander around on his own. But he was stubborn. He was arrogant. He was in denial. Any of those things. He determined to walk the length of Knockturn Alley to Theo's house at the far end instead of flooing there, so that no one could gossip about where he went. He had told himself it would be fine. Why did he do that?

There was something wrong with his footsteps. There was another set there, in the echo, the sound of someone trying to match his steps so they wouldn't be noticed following him. 

The shadows had already taken over the street, leaving just a hint of orange sky visible over the roofs, rapidly turning purple, and the darkness left him feeling exposed. He didn't have enough eyes to watch every corner and crevice in the twisting street. He had his face turned back, trying to find the stalker, so he nearly ran into a street peddler and had to scramble onward to get away.

The street was lousy with strangers, with eyes, with furtive glances and whispers and backs that turned. With blank faces that would affirm they saw nothing that wasn't their business. 

There wasn't anybody there. He knew there wasn't anybody there. No one was following him. It was just people doing normal people things. All he had to do was walk calmly because he knew that there was nothing after him. 

He knew that but he could still feel it, that phantom echo of footsteps, closing in… He knew it wasn't there but secretly it was. And while he walked, calmly, logically, rationally onward, it was getting closer. 

He couldn't take it anymore. Apparating into a public street wasn't really safe, but he had to. He broke into a run, fishing out his wand as he did, and Disapparated between one step and the next. 

—

Theo came out of the kitchen when he heard the door slam, shoving a last bit of steak into his mouth, looking up the hall to see if this was Draco pissed off or if something was wrong. Finding him pressed against the door, shaking, with his eyes closed answered that. "What's the matter?" he asked with his mouth full, coming up to hold his arms.

"There's no one there," Draco blurted out. "I know there isn't, I just— My fucking mind!"

All right, that was completely nonsensical. He calmly pulled Draco away from the door, rubbing his arms to try to soothe him, and guided him down the hall. "Maybe Godot made some tea. You can start at the beginning." He had found that, outside of there being obvious danger, he tended to get calm as Draco got frantic. He thought it helped him. Right now, he felt like an icicle, which was a testament to how worked up Draco was. 

There was in fact tea sitting out by the sink, and he pulled Draco in front of it. On his way past, he shoved his steak and potatoes to the back of the table so Draco wouldn't have to smell it as much. 

Draco didn't even seem to notice the tea; when he was put in front of it, he pulled out of Theo's hands and paced the width of the room, running his hand through his hair. "I am not afraid of the dark!"

So it sounded like he was, actually, afraid of the dark? "After what you've been through, Draco, no one would blame you if you were." He started making up Draco's tea himself, loading it up with sugar. 

"I'm not," he denied with all the force of his personality, which did little to make it sound more true. 

When he stalked back in his frenzy, Theo lifted the tea into his path and caught his arm to encourage him to take it. 

Draco blinked down at it and accepted it without a word, his spiral interrupted. 

"Tell me?" He rubbed Draco's arms again.

"I…" Theo rubbed his back, and he took a bit of tea, then a deep breath. "I thought I was being followed. I wasn't — I know I wasn't. I knew wasn't." He sat down at the table with his tea, dropping heavily into the chair, without his normal grace. "It was in my head and I knew it. I was thoroughly aware that it wasn't real."

"But…?" He wrapped his arm around Draco's chest and shoulders.

"But I still had to run away." He gripped the teacup tightly and stared into it. "I still had to panic and run because if I didn't I felt like I was going to die. Over nothing." He shoved the tea back on the table instead of drinking more.

He smoothed Draco's hair back and kissed the top of his head, formulating a response in his thoughts, trying to find a way to phrase all of the understanding Draco deserved without making him feel pitied. 

"If I know there's nothing to be afraid of, why am I still so afraid?!" He shoved the table into the wall; it knocked over his tea, spilling it out over the worn wood and running up against Theo's supper plate. He grabbed his hair in both hands and let his head hang.

"I wish I could do something about it, or at least had an answer." Theo hugged him tightly, rubbing his arm and trying to get him to let himself go. The answer was that Draco had had so much that made him feel vulnerable, but Draco didn't want to hear it; he didn't want or need to hear a litany of his trials. He wanted to be able to ignore them, even though it was clear they were still affecting him. 

"I don't want an answer, I just… don't want to be like this…" 

He silently rubbed Draco's arm, and then pulled him to get him back to his feet. "Let's go sit outside." 

"Why?"

"So you won't be afraid of it." 

"I already know there's nothing to be afraid of, it's not going to accomplish anything."

He calmly rubbed his back. "Let's just do anyway." 

Draco reluctantly let himself be led back down the hall and out the front door. Theo pulled it closed solidly behind them. They didn't go anywhere; Theo just pulled him gently down as he sat on the top of the front step, legs stretched out to the cobblestones. 

Draco was as paranoid as ever about being seen with another man, so he just sat beside him, not touching, and Theo didn't push it. To be honest, they were sat right next to a skeevy rooming house; it was pretty conceivable that anyone who happened to see Draco holding hands with a bloke might get some blackmail-y ideas in his head — not because there was anything wrong with it, but just because Draco was hiding it. 

It wasn't a bad night; cold, but clear. They could see a pair of wizards in spirited conversation wandering vaguely down the middle of the road in their direction, plus a solid group in Muggle clothes going the other direction and talking in low voices amongst themselves, hear loud voices from the pub down the corner, and further up toward Diagon Alley a kneazle yowled its complaints as it was tossed out of a shop. They didn't have much in the way of street lamps, but half of the windows up and down the alley were lit; Knockturn Alley came awake after dark. 

"How do you feel?"

"Stupid." Draco felt around for a pebble or chip of stone and lobbed it clattering into the street. 

"Well, you're not."

Draco didn't say anything. He found something else to throw, and sat with his chin almost on his knees, watching the people go by without being obvious about it. Eventually, he pulled out his wand and cast a Disillusionment charm on himself with no warning, so that he effectively vanished. 

Theo sat up, watching the spot where he had been and trying to readjust his eyes in the darkness to pick out his shape instead of colour. "What's this about?"

Draco didn't answer, but he could hear him moving, and then he nudged Theo's leg and sat on the step below him, between his legs. He felt his arm picked up and pulled around Draco's shoulders. Draco settled back against his chest, holding his hand lightly on his shoulder.

He felt the top of Draco's head with his chin and kissed it. "Sure," he said, voice light. "This is inconspicuous." 

"People are used to you being weird. But I could do you too."

"That's up to you." He rubbed Draco's arm. He couldn't see it, but Draco felt more relaxed now, he thought. "Do you feel better?" 

He felt a nod against his shoulder. "I'd have been fine if I weren't alone," Draco said quietly. "It's not a solution, it's just another side of the problem."

"I don't know, it seems pretty reasonable to feel safer if you have someone with you." 

"But it isn't about that. No offence, but I don't feel like you're going to 'protect me'."

"Okay, a little offence taken." 

"All right, I know you would, but it isn't about that. It's that having someone there gives me a way to divert the crazy thoughts. Reality I can touch and push them away." 

"Your thoughts aren't 'crazy'." He nuzzled into his hair.

"They are," he said quietly. "I know they are. I am. I can just control it when I'm with people. When I'm alone I can't stop it." 

He knew nothing his instincts said to say, about not leaving him alone or about him not being mad, was the right answer. He didn't think there was a right answer. Instead of saying something empty and unsatisfying, he kissed Draco's head again and wrapped his other arm around him as well to hold him tightly.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Spouse is commiserating with me about the square root of two losing to the what the fuck constant. I submit to you the proof that the square root of two is irrational, via memory so let’s hope I’m not doing anything two embarrassing. It’s a pretty straightforward proof though so I think I should be fine.

First we have to define what an irrational number is. It’s a number that’s not rational. There. Done.

What’s a rational number? You know what a rational number is. I know what a rational number is. But this is a proof, so we have to pretend we don’t know things that we know. That’s basically what a proof is. Ok. A rational number is any number that can be written as a fraction (or “ratio” — they’re not smart numbers, they’re ratio’d numbers) a/b where a and b are integers with no common factors. 3/9 doesn’t count, you gotta get it down to 1/3. Make sense?

the square root of two is defined as x where x^2= 2.

We’re going to use the type of proof called proof by contradiction. It’s the best sort of proof. You just assume the opposite of what you’re trying to prove (in this case, that x is rational) and show that that results in complete and utter absurdity. Except this is math, so the bar for complete and utter absurdity is really high. You need a contradiction, two things that can’t both be logically true.

So let’s go assume it. The square root of two is rational, why not. So it can be written as a/b, where a and b are integers with no common factors. So far so good, no contradiction yet. Hmm. What else have we got?

oh right it equals two when it’s squared. (a/b)^2 = 2.

I realize a lot of people have trouble with fractions, but (a/b)^2 is actually really, really easy. Much easier than adding them. It’s just (a^2)/(b^2). That’s it. So, (a^2)/(b^2) = 2.

but a/b is the same as a divided by b, so we can multiple both sides by b (well, ok, b^2) and get

a^2 = 2b^2

ooh, that looks neat! So a^2 is even. Noice. But you can’t multiply an odd number by itself and get an even number, the factors of a square are just the factors of its root but twice as many of them, so if there’s a 2 in a^2 there has to also be a 2 in a.

If there’s a two in a, a can be written as two times something else (some other integer). Let’s pick k because why not. a= 2k.

but then we can do this all over again using 2k in place of a. 2k/b is the square root of two. (2k/b)^2 = 2. ((2k)^2)/(b^2) = 2. (4k^2)/(b^2) = 2

(because (2k)^2 is (2^2)(k^2), ok? This is the sort of math where if there’s a number and a variable next to each other, there’s a hidden multiplication sign that didn’t get written out because mathemeticians are lazy efficient ok? And anyways they all know what it means.)

so we multiple the b^2 to both sides of the equation like last time, getting 4k^2 = 2b^2.

or, dividing both sides by 2,

2k^2 = b^2.

so…b squared is twice some other integer? B squared is even? B is even??? But this is a problem, because a is even and a/b was defined as a fraction in lowest terms, with no common factors! And now they both have two as a factor! It’s a contradiction!

So there does not exist any such fraction. The square root of two cannot be written as one integer divided by another integer with no common factors. It’s irrational.

That’s it, or as the math people like to say, QED. (Because I guess writing out quod erat demonstradum takes away from valuable thinking time or something.)

[gayspock]

hmmm

obvioously ive got no idea whats about to happen. but sorry. im on tom zareks side in so much of this. kind of rolling my eyes a bit at the show itself in some senses. bc again. idk what happens. sigh. but its obvious that zareks being pitched, by the show, as someone to be "against" - not to be so reductive about it, but yeah.

bc frankly like... everything hes saying? no offence. i completely fucking agree with. am i being insane. am i. someone else soundboard me here. bc, like please- a terrorist, sure, they keep overstating that but... also one from saggitaron, an extremely exploited colony, and thats what he was fighting for in the first place

and not to mention that everything he's advocated for, thus far... i agree with. the prisoners being used, like slaves- dont "its a hard choice, but one we have to make" me, bc its still wrong to have to fucking earn your freedom, jesus christ. even if, yes, humanity is on the god damn line.

AND we never see the actual civillians in the damn show-and thats sth thats actually frustrated me, thus far. but hes ALSO right about them. is now maybe the best time for total change? arguable. but like- also sorry but im onboard with dismantling whatever fucking system is in-place, if that system is presumabaly analogous to our own. hes right. i mean im kind of fuckin confused, bc again theyre not showing us much- but theres no money?? and some people are still living "as wealthy" whilst some are still labouring? sorry??? but yeah- fuckin yeah that needs to be addressed

like it would ANYWAY. the inequality would ANYWAY ofc. but like if theyre seriously having to build a new livelihood here then fuckin... GOD i dont know i dont think its mad or irrational to be pushing for that

AND no matter the results... whilst i do kind of yield, and recognise in a time of crisis a strong leader is kind of important, and shes made good decisions, its STILL not crazy to want fucking elections. i dont know. call me crazy lol im in the uk and we havent had the chance to choose a damn leader for a hot second. but like laura wasnt... anywhere near qualified to be the president. she wasnt elected by anyone, for anything, and calling for a damn vote isnt some extremist madness.

and i guess you can say this is all naive- that hes only advocating for this, to be in power himself- but... so is laura? like shes holding onto her position so she can do what she thinks is right; so she can exercise power. fucking SHRUG. whats the damn difference there? and shes the one with the upperhand right now. and dont get me wrong- i like laura and the decisions shes made genereally speaking but again... a) not crazy to want an elected leader and b) not crazy to question how shes handling civilian side of things bc we barely see that at all

and i think thats where i am eyerolling HARD at this show bc again idk. i EXPECTED this. but again. being reductive, but also its hard not to be because like- zareks being depicted as the antagonistic force here, and laura as the rational one, as one of our protags and its like... i dont MIND a difference of opinion playing out in front of me, you know, nor do i need my own political inclinations to align wholly with a show BUT... my point is its kinda exhausting the way they do kind of act like what zarek is saying is crazy and the show itself isnt challenging laura herself on THESE issues in particular when its justified. like they do with other hard decisions shes made but with some of this really not so much

and another thing was like similarly... they narratively justified it, by having that guy get apprehended as an assassin in the end, but also like... lee was making me suck my teeth this episode and groan. like seriously. stepping in and strongarming civillians in full on cop mode. i dont fucking like it dude. like when those two ppl were having a disagreement, and he sided against one guy despite the fact they had exhibited the same level of aggression with each other, bc that guy aligned with his own beliefs, and then exercised his power to threaten the other guy- yeah sorry again to be that guy but like... be for realll lee. and again i wouldnt be MAD that hed do that, in terms of a character decision, but again its like- obviously its in framing, yeah?

and this whole thing yes- WELL IT IS ALL VERY SILLY OF ME TO GET TOO IRRITATED, I MEAN PLEASE. THEYRE THE FUCKING MILITARY. THE ENTIRE MAIN CAST IS THE MILITARY. im not going into this expecting my own opinions to always be resonant here - and i wouldnt wiht any show. thats as equally braindead to expect that. but nonetheless man. its still one of those things im gonna bitch and moan about when it grates me in a particularly annoying way LOL bc like again. shru

[pwnyta]

Just gonna post some Sayid screenshots. I wonder how many people unfollowed me by now.... LMFAO

Sayid with hair in his face is cute but it has the unfortunate side effect of covering his face.

Charlie is also contemplating the pros and cons of Sayids pretty hair in his face. (citation needed)

I think this is the first time he smiles in the show and then he smiles like 10 other times and thats it. In the whole show. Neither of them know how hard theyll go for each other in the future.

Also Sayid reminds me of the cheetah in that post.

Hair half in his face is a good look. Cuz you get pretty curly hair AND pretty face at the same time. This is the way.

Kate and Sayid watching Shannon and Boone bicker is so funny. They really said 👀😒*listening intently*

g g girls... pr... ..etty

Parallel play with the besties.

Whyd they have to look at Hurley like this... what did he do to deserve this... Mean girl behavior.

Kate, probably: Dick from terrible men hits different when you got the baddest bitch you know in your ear telling you he aint worth it.

Sayid being a completely rational, reasonable man on an island where everything is unreasonable and irrational... he doesnt deserve this.

Sayid pulling the trigger on Danielle and her telling him she removed the pin and that her lover didnt notice the missing pin either... then later when Danielle gives him another gun he checks the pin just in case.

We love a man who can learn from his mistakes.

Ben didnt even say thank you after Sayid served this hard in front of him. Thats crazy.

Pretty... this warm lighting is such a good look. If it was bad for Sayid to torture 'Henry Gale' then why so pretty?

And also he was right so.

Sayid: Everything was just as you said it would be... but I still didnt believe you... so I dug up the grave.

Ben (in his head probably): .... who the fuck digs up a grave....

Everything worked out so well for Ben when it came to Jack and Locke... Sayid beat the shit out of him and almost shot him in the face for it. LMFAO.

Honestly I would have loved to see the look on Ana Lucia and Charlies face when Sayid just gets to his knees and starts ripping at the ground with his bare hands.... cuz its not like they had a shovel.... so Sayid had to have dug up that grave with his hands. Put those nails to good use.

Pretty.... also Sayid big tiddie tan lines...? Real?👀

Sayid talks about dying like he thinks he deserves it so its interesting that he always fights so hard to live. I guess its cuz he always has a mission like finding Nadia or protecting the Oceanic survivors in one way or another... he did tell Jack he was 'willing to give his life but he wont give it for nothing.'

Also... the fake nurses face as Sayid wraps his own IV tube around the dudes throat is so fucking funny. Bro realized he was not built for this.

At least Sayid is polite enough not to kill someone at Jacks work? Like he killed everyone else that got close to his people... some dude died getting slammed onto a bunch of upright knives like Sayid was an agent for Death in the Final Destination franchise. He just shot you with your own tranquilizer gun...

You didnt even thank him for it.

Jack didnt either.

Men are so rude to Sayid.

[dear-derek]

2023-06-28

Derek,

I think one of the biggest issues I struggle with is a lack of self accountability.

If I eat a shit-ton of cake, it's because it was right in front of me, and I was feeling bad, and I was brought up with food as my coping mechanism. It was a human moment, I couldn't resist. If I lose a friend, it's because they didn't like me, they ended things. How could it be my fault, when I never actually make any active decisions in relationships? If my life is barelling downhill faster than the speed of light, it's because the universe had it out for me. I was doomed from the start; I have the burden of knowing my own fate.

It feels so much better to be powerless and oppressed, to be allowed to pity oneself and wallow in disgrace like side characters in novels, than to accept the fact that you just fucked up.

I'm a determinist. It's something I love saying because it makes me sound interesting, but I wish it weren't true. To me, it's not something that can or has to be found from experimentation, it's a priori truth: the same way we know 2 + 2 = 4 because that's just how it works. We are experience machines; we indulge in the sensory information around and and internalize them. Instincts were built this way, too, making every aspect of our being fundamentally external and dependant on our environment.

Our own rationalism is further proof of determinism: we do, think, or say something based on what we've come to know, our little thinking minds subconsciously determine the best course of action based on genetics and environmental conditioning Those conclusions appear to the conscious self as desires, maybe impulsiveness, maybe a proper decision. They're still ultimately influenced by what we percieve, not some greater truth we think we've discovered.

Still, I think being a determinist is stupid. Not only does it take all the fun out of life, but it also sets into motion a negative conclusion, because it's based on the principle of innate passivity. Determinism also doesn't take away from the fact that I still experience life. As predetermined as I am, I'm not unthinking. As a determinist, there's nothing I can do to change the fact that I believe what I believe. As a person, with thoughts and feelings that are all completely biased and meaningless but still there nonetheless, I don't want to believe that my life isn't my own.

Still, if something in the world led me to stumble on this piece of knowledge, I don't know if I can reject it. How can you trick yourself into believing in magic when you saw the slit in the magician's rings? How can you believe in santa claus, after noticing your uncle's ring on his finger? I want to suspend my disbelief, but whenever I get close to doing so it occurs to me that that's the fault of my environments, and not a conscious decision. I then cling tighter and tighter to determinism, finding some stubborn solace in the fact that I'm not free, but at least I'm self aware.

But I'm not. People are arrogant, and they're self involved and irrational, and flawed. Logic itself is illogical when processed through their minds, and there's plenty of case studies to prove it. We all think we know the answer; We all think that we're the one to have miraculously solved philosophy. But we're all kind of stupid.

Who am I to decide that this is how the universe is ran? Who am I to accept my flawed perceptions as reality? If determinism states that I am the product of my environment, if it says that my truths are influenced on my subjective experiences, it's impossible for me, or anyone, to objectively understand or concieve of determinism. By its own rules, determinism is an impossible concept.

Why not, then. Why not believe in some sort of agency. A little part of me will always say that this denial is just some kind of coping mechanism, but determinism has filled that role, too. Why not replace it with something that will actually let me live with myself? Reality should not be ignored for the sake of personal comfort, but reality is so malleable and subjective that believing in it inadvertently rejects a big part of it we just can't see.

If I have to be blind, I want to be happy, too. So I'm going to go against my nature and dilute myself in the fantasy that I'm in control. It's probably wrong, but I've got nothing to lose if it is.

talk to you later,

[ramrodd]

Reflecting Back on My 45 Year Career

COMMENTARY”

One thing that you say somewhere about the Gospel of John  that is informed my description of Jesus aa a Hellenistic post-apocalyptic Jew was "life  everlasting".

You don't understand Hegel any better than Marx When he claimed that he was going to stand Hegel on his head,, he didn't understand that Hegel expected to be turned on his head: that was the point.

Let me explain  using F=MA, where F = the Sovereign or the State, M = the People and A = economic activity.

Marx assumed that Hegel represented dialectic Idealism, which could be represented as F/MA = 1 and he posited that dialectic Materialism could be represented as MA/F = 1.

In this respcet, to the degree that Hegel stipulated to Napoleon's formula that the Moral is to the Material is 4 is to 1. Marx proposed that the Material is to the Moral (geist) as 4 is to 1. The things is that Hegel's dialectical synthesis is expressed as F/MA = 1 = MA/F as the nature of paradox and that, in the final analysis, Marx's formulation, the Material is to the Moral as 4 is to 1, violates the 4th Law of Logic, that you cannot reduce paradox.

newton's calculus isolates Chaos Theory by demonstrating how to find the area of a circle without Pi. He eliminates Motion from the Time-Distance formula by Measuring Time over infinitely tiny iterations of Distance across a diluted expression of what we know understand as Gravity. In this way, he is able to violated the 4th Law of Logic by calculating the area of a circle without Pr.

And both Kant and Hegel recognize the significance of Chaos and paradox but they didn't have the words or concept to explain it. They are lacking what   John S. Kloppenborg, a Canadian theologian, usefully identifies as the Linguistic Register to explain what is going on.

Herbert Spence comes closest to nailing it with his observation that society is organic and Heidegger almost gets it in 1942 when the LOGOS of the arc of his Dasein travels from the Being in the world through instrumental transparency to the being as metaphor. They had everythng they needed when Hume's theory of perception establishes the platform for Gestalt Theory as the mechanism of perception, but it wasn't until Kurt Lewin stumbled across Group Dynamics looking for something else that the paradox of Kant and Hegel emerges. Kurt Lewin's Behavior -= fPerson/Environment) is the mathematics of both Gestalt Theory and Heidegger's Being and Time.

In the final analysis, Hegel's Historic Gestalt of dialectic synthesis comes down to the Team Building mantra of  Forming, Storming, Norming, Performing while Kant's Mind Body duality that Kirkegaard rejects as self-contradicting is resolve by the mechanism of the Pucker Factor as the intermediary between the irrational of the noumenal substance of the Body with the rational capacities of Phenomenal Reality. The Pucker Factor is the paradox that anchors the Categorical Imperative.

Hume's observation that judgement cannot be completely divorced from emotion is the key.  Heidegger's "existentialism/Experiential Learning accommodates this paradox and is the basis for the transformative process of the US Army Ranger School and the Hegelian aspects of the US Army War College.

Which is why your version of Vietnam was so fucked. Clausewitz is based on a Hegelian paradox that was completed by George Marshall's doctrine of nation building as a military solution. We lost the war in Vietnam when the Diem brothers vacated this doctrine, thanks to the John Birch Society's machinations at State and the CIA, but, by 1963, when the SDS was just beginning to mount its insurgency against the US Constitution, the US Army's strategy in Vietnam was to conduct a battle of attrition against the Soviet economy by proxy.

Because of Vietnam, the Soviet Union is no more and we won the Cold War. By 1970. both Brezhnev and Mao concluded that Marxism was untenable and joined Nixon is a diplomatic aspiration to transform the Military Industrial Complex to the Aerospace Entrepreneurial Martirix of the Star Wars economics of 2001:A Space Odyssey.  If Carter had been re-elected or Reagan's New Federalism had been implemented, we would have been to Mars and back by now.

Instead, the supply Side Economics of the John Birch Society, which is based on the same dialectic Marxism as your critical historic method, has stalled the destiny of humankind expressed in Genesis15:5.

That's the process theology version of events. Your critical historical method has established the Gospels as derivative of Paul as the conventional wisdom, if he ever actually existed.

Well done, good and faithful servant.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Overdue.

Pairing: Yandere!Alhaitham x F. Reader (+Kaveh).

Word Count: 1.5k.

TW: Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Oral Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Intimidation, and Mentions of Blood.

The absolute worst thing about Kaveh, in Alhaitham’s objective opinion, was that he happened to be Kaveh.

Irrational, illogical, irritating. He wasn't only useless, but purposefully dysfunctional, content to remain a worthless drain on society, respondent only to his own frivolous desires. His aspirations were unachievable, his proposals falling closer to works of elaborate fiction than anything Alhaitham could be expected to seriously endorse, and worst of all, he was Kaveh. That, on its own, was an unforgivable fault, something Alhaitham only managed to look past out of the goodness of his own heart.

The second worst thing about Kaveh was that, despite all of his previously listed offenses, you still called him a lover.

It was a matter of principle, really. He couldn't scrape up enough mora to pay his half of their rent, let alone find his own place to live, and yet, he seemed to have no issue luring you into his arms and, on more nights than Alhaitham cared to acknowledge, his bed. It’d been months of the same routine – his days occupied by the Akademiya and his duties as the Scribe, and his nights kept sleepless, made into short eternities by the sound of muffled laughter and stifled moaning and skin crashing into skin. Sometimes, you'd leave before sunrise, but most mornings, he was forced to endure the sight of you, bleary-eyed and covered in bruises from the night before, dressed in one of Kaveh’s wrinkled shirts and little else. You’d blush and apologize for the inconvenience, and he’d play blind to the scratches clawed into his roommate’s back, but he knew you adored the attention. He knew that you knew what you were doing, even if you and Kaveh liked to play oblivious.

Like tonight, for example. One of you had forgotten to lock Kaveh’s door, and despite Alhaitham making no attempt to conceal his presence, you had yet to notice him from your place on the center of Kaveh’s bed. You were lying on your stomach, your arms crossed over a pillow and your face buried in your self-made shelter. Your bare back was visible, but your legs had been obscured by a pale sheet drawn half-heartedly over the lower half of your form, and from the steadiness of your breathing, the way you failed to move as he stepped over the threshold, Alhaitham could tell that you were either asleep or pretending to be. He didn’t particularly care which. If you were wary of him, you wouldn’t be so relaxed. If you truly wanted to keep him at arm’s length, you wouldn’t have let him in so easily

You stirred as he climbed onto Kaveh’s bed, but didn’t lift your head, didn’t seem to notice until he stopped at your side, his hands coming to rest on the curves of your sides. Even then, you only pushed yourself upward, arching into his touch as you let out a breathy sigh. “Kaveh?” You muttered, still only half-coherent. “For fuck’s sa— You’re insatiable. You know that, right?”

Alhaitham hummed, leaning into you. He could hear water crashing onto tile in the distance, and figured Kaveh must’ve been indulging one of his many, many great passions in life – which was, of course, running up Alhaitham’s bills. With this in mind, Alhaitham took his time, tracing over the length of your spine, pushing shallow circles into the soft flesh just underneath your shoulder blades and drinking in the low, breathy moan you let out, in response. You melted underneath him, burying your face deeper in your arms, allowing him to take you by the waist and led your hips upward, until you were on your knees rather than your stomach. You laughed as he pulled your legs apart, making room for his body to settle between them, but remained otherwise plaint. He could see why Kaveh liked you, for as much as Alhaitham hated that he did. Speaking from a completely rational perspective, of course.

You were wet, a mixture of slick and something he’d rather not put a name to dripping down the inside of your thighs, but still, he took pains to keep you comfortable. With his hands clasped over your ankles, he leaned forward, lapping over your entrance and groaning as your rocked softly against his tongue. Your taste was, admittedly, not completely unpleasant, and if nothing else, you were the cooperative type, bucking against his mouth as he fucked his tongue into your cunt in short thrusts, as he ground the bridge of his nose into your clit until you were fisting at the sheets you could reach, whining into your pillow unabashedly. When he pulled away, you took to whimpering instead, but managed to swallow any protests you might’ve had as he pressed a lingering kiss into the back of your thigh, as he shifted – straightening his back and edging his pants past his waist, taking up his cock and tracing the flushed tip over your slit.

He’d been hard since you and Kaveh started your nightly ritual. It was to be expected, a physiological tic no amount of logic or sensible thought could seem to suppress. He knew it was a self-indulgent kind of reasoning, but to Alhaitham, it almost seemed right that you would have to be the one to deal with the problem you caused. As many of the studies he’d made a career of transcribing ultimately found, the source could often serve as the solution, after all.

“Why did you put your clothes back on?” You asked, your voice only momentarily faltering as he bottomed out, his hips meeting your ass. He closed his eyes, letting out an airy sigh and allowing his head to lull back, savoring the way your pussy clenched around him. With little ceremony, he began to move – slowly, at first, but his self-restraint had already been irreparably damaged over the course of your relationship with his roommate, waned away by months of moaning and creaking bedframes and bedrooms that reeked of sex. Before he could bring himself to care, his pace had devolved into something uneven and unwavering, and he was bent over you, his fingertips buried in your waist and his chest pressed into your back. He had to grit his teeth just to keep himself silent, but stifled grunts still managed to slip through his pursed lips, a sound you seemed to distinctly dislike. “Y-you’re never this quiet.” For the first time, you attempted to squirm underneath him, a pitiful effort limited that much more by the weight of his body over yours. “Kaveh, you… you feel really—”

You cut yourself off, snapped your head to the side. Despite his efforts to remain neutral, to be objective, the terror in your expression went straight to his cock.

You tried to scream, but he was faster than you, stronger. His palm was over your mouth in a matter of seconds, muting any protests you might’ve had, and he growled into your ear, what was left of his control shattering and leaving pure, primal carnality in its place. He’d been rough before, but he couldn’t stop himself from forcing himself into you, now, from panting against your shoulder and, when you continued to try and thrash out of his hold, bringing his teeth to your neck and biting down, only stopping when he tasted blood. He didn’t linger, pulling away and pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the broken skin, but it seemed to do the trick. You were much more agreeable, after that.

“Don’t. I’m not afraid to make this hurt.” And yet, he felt the need to warn you, regardless. There was something alluring about the way you trembled, about how you still managed to tighten around his cock despite the tears slowly beginning to run down your cheeks, the way you cried out into his hand as he ground into you. He felt himself twitch, but it seemed secondary, now, more of a by-product than a desired result. He wanted to feel you shake underneath him. He wanted to feel you buck against him as his free hand dropped to your clit, pressing deep patterns into the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wanted to fuck you in his own bed, next time, or better yet, in his living room, or on a kitchen counter, somewhere Kaveh could watch. He wanted to—

He heard footsteps, then a sharp gasp. Absentmindedly, he glanced over his shoulder, noted Kaveh, soaking wet and completely nude. Alhaitham didn’t stop. Rather, he jerked you upward, into his chest, putting you on full display as you stiffened, coming undone around his cock with a cracked moan. His climax followed shortly after, and he welcomed it, stilling inside of you and filling you to the brim.

After taking a moment to breathe, to hold you against him, he glanced towards the doorway, towards Kaveh.

They locked eyes, and before he could think better of it, Alhaitham broke into a grin.

[moon-kn1ght]

toes in the water

pairing: frankie morales x reader

word count: 2k 

warnings: kindergarten should def be a warning, maybe also incredibly unvaried sentence structure? rated E for everyone :)

a/n: this is going to be a small series surrounding a single father frankie morales and reader who is a kindergarten teacher. semi-slow burning, super cute and will def have storage closet / after-hours classroom sex at some point. thank you @wyn-dixie for the beta and for quelling my anxieties about literally everything. 

masterlist || tag form

Were you supposed to be using the kindergarten enrollment forms to sus out potential cute, single parents? No, definitely not. 

But the process of going through the individual forms and comparing them to the database for possible clerical errors was tedious at best, and grueling at its worst. Sitting on those tiny kindergarten chairs, you and the other four members of your team of teachers had already rehashed all of the gossip from the summer, including how Jessica the first year teacher from the 3rd grade cohort had hooked up with that sleazy geometry teacher from the high school at the end of the year district-wide social last May. 

“God, I remember when he was student teaching at the middle school,” Dora, your most senior coworker who had ‘been around the block a few times’ and also held onto every piece of gossip that circulated in your district for the last 17 years, drawled, “He had the grossest little rat mustache, you could hardly tell him apart from the 8th graders!” 

The group laughs in response to that joke, always ready to make of the holier-than-thou high school teachers. “You know what?” Dora adds, “You’d think after so many years, I’d be used to these tiny fucking chairs, but I am not. I need a walk and a Diet Coke.” 

“I’ll join you!” chimed Joanne, the second-oldest teacher in your cohort. The two leaders of your team left the room, leaving you, Claudia, and Andrés, the youngest teachers in the kindergarten cohort. Andrés and you had gone through your credential program together and had known each other for upwards of five years now as best friends. When the two of you arrived at Franklin Elementary, fresh out of school, Claudia had just completed her first year so she welcomed more young teachers with open arms. The three of you have been inseparable for the past several years now. 

“Okay, pull out your stacks!” Andrés orders, citing your group’s earlier plan to use this menial labor to check for potential single parents. You were just looking on the forms to see who did not have both parents listed. It wasn’t a perfect system. And yeah, it was probably inappropriate but y’all were just messing around and killing time on this sweltering August day. 

“I have one in my class!” you offer. “Student: Grace Miller. Parent: Susan Miller. Occupation: Landscape architect.” 

“Oooo, intriguing. Love someone who works with their hands,” Claudia remarks in a silly, sultry voice. “I have one, the student is named Peter, mom is Karen. She’s an accountant.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that. Karen? Yeah no thank you. Glad she’s in your class, not mine.” Andrés laughs and you join him. Kindergarten was just as much of a transition for students as it was for parents, and sometimes they took it harder than the kids. “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t live up to her name...” he continues, “Ooh, I have one! He's single dad--” 

Oooh, you and Claudia purr.

“Rosalia Morales is the daughter of single dad Francisco; form says he's a small business owner,” Andrés presents this crown jewel piece of information to a round of applause from you and Claudia. 

“Ugh, let’s hope he’s cute!” Claudia adds and the three of you dissolve into giggles as the older women  return from their Diet Coke run. 

—X—

Rosalia Morales was ready for kindergarten. Frankie Morales, on the other hand, was not. 

The younger Morales had spent the first weeks of August carefully preparing for this new (and very important) chapter in her life. She carefully deliberated over decisions like what backpack and lunchbox to get from Target (she chose a matching Sofia the First set, so that it could be a topic of conversation for her and her potential new friends at school) to what she was instructing her father to pack in her lunchbox (no PB&J’s in case her new friends were allergic, she wanted to be able to sit at the same lunch table with them and not have these seminal weeks defined by the separation of Peanut vs Peanut free lunches). Rosalia was very meticulous, and she always had been. She was well-prepared to face all the challenges kindergarten wanted to throw at her. 

While Rosalia had spent weeks preparing, Frankie had spent weeks dreading the imminent separation from his favorite person in the universe. Yes, he had sent Rosalia to preschool and pre-K but those had all been half-day programs. He would drop her off on his way to work and then pick her up at lunchtime. That only meant four hours apart but full-day Kindergarten was drop-off at 7:45am and pick up at 3:30pm. Seven and a half hours. How am I going to do it? he thought to himself. 

—X—

At Franklin, they implemented a very specific first day schedule. Parents walked their kids to their classrooms to hang up their bags, then the students got to go play on the playground while the parents left. The older teachers designed this system to reinforce to the students that school = fun. Yes, of course there were always students who had a rougher first day, but it usually took a couple of hours for the fatigue to set in before the students realized how long the day (and year was going to be). 

This system most importantly allowed for a clean break with the parents, a solid ‘goodbye!’ point that the teachers could enforce. But, always, there were some straggler parents (either loitering inside, near the front door or in their cars in the parking lot). The administrative team would let the indoor stragglers know that it was time to leave, but they would have two of the teachers go into the parking lot to make sure all the parents had cleared out. 

This year, you and Claudia had pulled those short straws, so while the rest of your team monitored the early recess, you two roamed the parking lot with reassuring waves and “I’m sorry, it’s district policy, you have to leave the parking lot after drop off.” Everyone usually took it graciously—it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it’s better to just get it done. 

You had almost cleared the lot of loitering vehicles when you came upon an older, red truck with a man inside it. His window was down so you began to speak to him a little before he noticed you, causing him to jump. 

“Hi, I'm one of the teachers in the Kindergarten cohort," you say as you run your bare left hand through your hair. “Are you a parent?” 

As he turns to look at you, you can notice that even with his cap pulled low, he has definitely been crying a little. “Hey, yes sorry. I’m Frankie Morales, Rosalia’s dad,” the man stammers, “I’m sorry, I know the policy, I think I’m just having a little bit of separation anxiety.” HIs brown eyes look a little bloodshot as he gives you a half-hearted smile. 

You search his face and see no traces of dishonesty, this is just a man very nervous to be sending his kid to school. And a cute one at that too. Claudia called it, you think. 

Before you can let your mind wander too far about this stranger, you have to say something. “Mr. Morales...” you start. 

“Please call me Frankie. Mr. Morales is my dad,” he interjects nervously.         

“Okay, Frankie,” you say. “I understand how nerve-wracking sending your kid to school can be. I may not be a parent myself, but I can empathize. But I can also offer to you that in my years in kindergarten, I’ve never seen a student not adjust to the classroom,” you offer. 

“But I also understand that our anxieties can be irrational and don’t like when presented with things that might undermine them. So it’s okay to still be nervous or anxious right now,” you add. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to help you feel better about leaving school property in the next ten minutes or so?” you smile a little to help this last bit come off as nice as possible. 

“I…” he mumbles, “I… I’m not sure, my parental intuition is telling me that something will happen in the middle of the day and it’ll take me too long to get here, which I know isn’t going to happen but… I’m worried that I won’t be able to be enough for her”  

“You worry because you care, and I can already tell that you care about her a lot. Hey, like I said, our worries don’t have to be rational to get at us.”

“She’s just all I have, she’s the center of my universe,” he adds. With this, you can see the shift in his eyes, from worry to love. You can tell that he loves his daughter with his whole heart. 

“Rosalia is in Andrés', I mean, Mr. Gonzales’s class, right?” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

“I think I might have a solution, a little band-aid just for today,” you bid and Frankie looks hopeful. “This is very much against district policy so you have to promise not to tell on me.”  

He laughs with this, and promises not to tell. “How about I give you my phone number, and any time that your fatherly intuition is telling you that something bad is going to happen, you can text me and then I’ll peek across the hall to Rosalia’s classroom, and I can factually assure you that nothing bad is happening?” 

Frankie actually smiles, for the first time in this whole conversation, “That would be great,” he says.

—X—

As you knew would happen, the day passed without incident. Frankie didn’t even text you, which you felt good about. But also a little sad because you wanted to start a little texting thing with this single dad. But you knew it would be a little inappropriate, in your heart of hearts. 

After all the students get picked up, Claudia and Andrés migrate into your classroom. 

“Don’t you think the first day of school calls for a celebratory drink out this afternoon?” Andrés probes. He always was down for happy hour (and to be truthful, you were too). “We should go to the brewery down the road, they have some nice outdoor seating.” 

“I’m in,” you state, “And I may or may not have some other good news..” you tease. 

“What? What good news could have happened in a room full of 6 year-olds?” Claudia jokes. 

“Y’all can’t tell anyone but I got the phone number of that single dad from Andrés’s class,” you say as quickly as you can. 

Claudia and Andrés both break into shrieks with this news. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe our prowling on the enrollment forms WORKED!!” Andrés exclaims. 

“He was nervous at drop off so I gave him my number but he didn’t end up texting me, so nothing will probably ever come of it. But still, small win in my book.” 

Claudia throws her head back, “You deserve all the wins you get, whatever happens, we’re psyched for you.” 

Later, during happy hour you check your phone and notice a new text from an unsaved number. 

Hey, thanks for your help this morning, having this line of communication made me feel a lot better. Rosalia had a great day today. -Frankie 

You try to keep your facial expressions minimal as you read the message. They don’t need to know about this, you think to yourself before shooting back a quick message. 

That makes me so happy Frankie. Feel free to reach out whenever you need! About whatever :) 

You add that last line hastily and hit send. I can thank this liquid courage for that, you think as you down the rest of your pint. 

TAG LIST: @wyn-dixie | @empress-palpat1ne | @marvelousmermaid | @knivesareout | @sleep-tight1 | @justanotherblonde23​ | 

[extasiswings]

Hopping on this train of writing to cope with promo image-induced feelings.  No thoughts, just vibes.  Also on ao3. 

The air inside the warehouse is thick with smoke and blisteringly hot.  A snapping sound splits through the crackle of flame and Eddie is abruptly yanked off balance as Buck grabs his arm and pulls hard just as a beam from above comes crashing down. It doesn’t miss him completely—catches the side of his helmet and knocks it off, making his ears ring with the impact. 

He sees Buck’s mouth moving and shakes his head. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” Buck repeats, nearly shouting to be heard over the din of the fire. 

A light fixture groans above them before dropping down as well and it’s Eddie’s turn to push Buck out of the way, even if it means a bit of flying glass catches him in the face. 

“We need to get out of here,” he shouts, and it quickly turns into a coughing fit as he chokes on smoke, his throat and lungs burning. 

Buck nods. “Go! I’m right behind!”

Eddie turns and manages to work out a path to the closest exit with a single-minded focus. His head is aching and he’s dizzy, can feel blood dripping down his cheek as well, and when he stumbles out into somewhat fresher air he nearly collapses into Bobby before he’s passed off to the paramedics. 

Hen had been one of the first ones in and out and has since stripped off her turnout coat and is helping the other medics. Eddie doesn’t argue when she checks his throat and pupil responses before pressing an oxygen mask into his hand. 

“Where’s Buck?” Hen asks as she swipes an alcohol pad over the cut on his cheek and secures it with two butterfly strips. 

Eddie lowers the mask and coughs. “He was right—“

Behind me. 

The words fade on his tongue as he scans the area only to come up empty. And then his eyes light on the door he’d come out of, nothing clear beyond the frame but black smoke and the red and orange glare of flickering flames. 

His world tips on its axis.  His vision swims.   And the feeling—

It reminds him a little of the tsunami, when he’d noticed Christopher’s glasses around Buck’s neck and had felt himself fracturing at such a rapid pace that even now he’s sure he wouldn’t have remained standing if he hadn’t caught sight of his son over Buck’s shoulder. He can feel the same sort of cracks spidering up the foundation of his walls—the ones that he throws up when he needs to be Eddie Diaz, firefighter, medic, soldier, competent professional, any version of himself that has to play at having his life together—and he scrambles internally to shut down the panic, to plaster over the cracks before they can spread too far, because if he lets himself think—

“I need to talk to Bobby,” he says, trying to push himself up to standing. Hen shoves him back down with hands firmly on his shoulders. 

“You need to sit and keep breathing into that mask,” she says, her voice sharp with authority before it gentles. “I’ll get him, but only if you stay here.”

Eddie’s jaw tics, but he lifts the mask back up to his face and takes a few pointed breaths while she watches. Finally, she nods. 

“I’ll be right back,” she promises. 

There’s an itch between his shoulder blades that desperately wants an outlet. Something to do, something to control so he doesn’t feel so much like he’s on the edge of a cliff. So that he can work on a solution instead of his mind unhelpfully focusing on Buck’s still in there.  He’s not an idiot, he knows he’s in no shape to go back in himself, but he needs something. 

“We were in the southwest quadrant,” Eddie reports when Hen returns with Bobby, keeping his words short and clipped.  “It wasn’t overrun but there were a lot of things falling from the upper levels. He said he was coming right after me, but he could have gotten stuck.”

This is easier. Staying mechanical. Sticking to facts. There’s no room for getting overly emotional, no allowance for breaking down.  He has a commanding officer in front of him who needs information, and that is something Eddie can handle. 

“We tried him on the radio but there was no answer,” Bobby says. 

“He may have dropped it.”  When he pulled me to safety. Eddie shuts that thought down. 

“There are windows on that side,” he adds. “If the exits are blocked—“

“We’ll look at all possible options,” Bobby replies.  His face is drawn and tired, face streaked with sweat and soot. 

For some reason it’s the flicker of doubt Eddie catches in his eyes that makes him say—

“He wasn’t being reckless. I know—we all know he can be sometimes, but he wasn’t. If he’s not out, it’s because he needs help, not because he’s trying to be a hero.”

Bobby looks at Eddie for a moment, something passing across his eyes like recognition before it fades and he’s left looking more tired than before. 

“We’ll look at all the options,” he repeats finally. He doesn’t make promises. Eddie’s not sure whether or not he appreciates that. 

It takes another several minutes for anything to happen, and Eddie’s shoulders get tighter, his mood blacker. His head aches and he snaps at another paramedic, some clearly new young kid, when he notices him dressing a burn improperly. 

It doesn’t make him feel better. 

Finally though, finally, after a heart-stopping moment when the warehouse windows blow out on the side where they’d last been, Eddie hears shouts. And a figure comes stumbling around from the back of the building, knees giving out just in time for someone to catch him. 

“What happened to I’m right behind?” Eddie asks roughly when Buck is helped over, looking worse for wear but alive. 

Buck coughs and closes his eyes. “Part of the catwalk came down,” he says. “Blocked me in. Couldn’t see you. Couldn’t see anything hardly through all the...everything.”

“I didn’t know.”

Buck shakes his head and dutifully brings his own oxygen mask to his face when one is pressed into his hand. 

“Wouldn’t have wanted you to stay even if you had,” he replies. “At least I had all my gear.” 

Eddie wants to keep talking, keep asking questions, keep reminding himself that Buck is sitting next to him and going to be fine, but that irrational impulse wars with the rational thought that Buck needs oxygen not an interrogation. So he drops it.  And they both withdraw into their own heads. 

Eddie watches though. As Buck flickers between present and vacant, numb. The haunted, hunted look that passes over his face every so often a clear indication that whatever ghosts are whispering in his mind, they’re saying nothing good. When the shift ends and they’re cleaned up, Buck still looks half-dead, so Eddie snatches his keys. 

“I’m taking you home,” he says, tone booking no argument. “I don’t want you driving like this.”

Buck sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay.”

The drive is silent, but there’s a tension in the air, the weight of things unspoken. Eddie’s not entirely sure what exactly would roll off his own tongue if he opened his mouth, his head a mess, but when he parks his truck in front of Buck’s apartment, Buck finally speaks. 

“You know what I was thinking while I stuck in that building? Besides that I was going to die.”  He swallows hard. “That if it had to be someone it was good it was me.”

Eddie’s heart stops, his stomach rebelling violently at sheer wrongness of the thought. 

“That’s not true.”

Buck nods and lets out a small, bitter laugh. 

“See, I do know that actually,” he admits. “It’s one of the things I’ve been working on in therapy. Except then my parents rolled into town and it was like none of that work mattered, I was right back to square one assuming I’m not wanted, that no one would miss me—and I hate, I hate that they have that kind of power, that they can make me feel so fucking worthless.”

“You’re not though.” Eddie reaches over before he can stop himself, his hand curling around the side of Buck’s neck, thumb settling over his pulse to feel that steady thrum of alive alive alive. “God, when I thought—you’re worth everything. You have to know—“

You have to know how much you mean to me. You have to know how much I love you. You have to know I can’t lose you.

You have to know. 

Buck makes a small sound of disbelief, his gaze turning searching as Eddie bites his tongue to keep from saying too much he can’t take back. He feels somehow even more precariously positioned on the edge of a cliff than he had in the field, but that cliff was positioned above an ocean of grief. He doesn’t know what’s at the bottom of this one should he fall. 

Somehow that’s almost more terrifying. 

Eddie sways forward unconsciously and Buck presses his forehead to his. Neither of them are breathing steadily. And they stay like that for a long moment until Buck shivers and pulls back. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says quietly, and Eddie can’t quite help the frisson of want that sparks through him, the whisper of yes, please, do it then that threads through his mind. 

“But,” Buck continues, his tongue sweeping out to wet his lips as Eddie watches. “But it’s been a long and really fucking difficult day and I’m not—I don’t want to fuck this up before it even starts. If—if there’s anything to start at all, I don’t want to assume—“

“There is,” Eddie assures. I love you. I’m in love with you. 

That gets him the faintest smile as Buck reaches up to squeeze his hand. 

“Thanks for the ride home.”

“Of course. Anytime.”  

When Eddie gets home, he pauses long enough to check on Christopher before falling into bed. And only then does he think back over the day and finally, finally let himself shatter. 

[redxblueihateloveyou]

1/2 "Explore the fuck was that" Xiaoge is not Xiaoge and talking is not the problem here. It's literally everything thats the problem. Also like you I've also read all the books, but failed to put into words why Xiao Yu Liang's and Huang Jun Jie's Qilings didn't give me any divergence from the original character despite the changes, while others did and pretty drastically. I thought it was a bit irrational on my part, but you just sorted it all out so effortlessly I'm a bit jealous

Lol I said the exact same thing, the talking and the phone was not a problem as some say, he has a phone in the book too at some point and talks more than you'd actually think, it's just that literally nothing about him is Zhang Qiling. Literally not one vibe or even tiny feeling. I don't know how that happened honestly.

AAAAAAAAA I saw the smile comments too lmao. I was like who's gonna tell them. Not only he smiles, he's full on laughing in the 2nd book already, when Wu Xie is using his spit as a lotion lmao. And Wu Xie was so happy about, he was like "I saw him smile before, but it was always so bitter and cold, this was the first time he smiled genuinely, he just needs to spend more time with him, we'll get him there" T_T Before that his smiling was legit a bit scary tho, sometimes brash, like when he told him about the stairs and he went "oh really?" haha

I thought about it and I honestly have no idea about the reference point for some people. I think maybe they go from that first adaptation? Maybe they think it's how he is in the book? Idk. It just weirds me out that I feel like some created some their own picture in their head and then judge everything from there throwing "thats ooc" left and right. Like this "Xiao Ge doesn't smile thing". Maybe it's because of the "Poker-face" thing, but do they know that "Men You Ping" doesn't actually mean that, it was just the closest thing you could come up with with english alternative to keep the nickname short (like I doubt it would read well if he kept calling him a bottle xD). Like according to Wu Xie since the very first book, his hubby can't even lie, so he's definitely not a poker face at all. He also gets pissed pretty easily and he likes to fool around sometimes too (like troll Wu Xie and Fatty obviously).

He's also not emo and not the "mysterious hero from some romance", not a stone and not a zooty. I don't know where this all came from tbh.

I can really debate 24/7 about this, but they're 100% Qilings, just slightly changed and softened accordingly to what they'd be like at this point of their relationship, if he did write it in (and I'm like pretty sure I'm right about this). It's the way they behave, how they act in certain situations, how they're with Wu Xie, how they're with other people, the right amount of sass and being done with everything, just the overall picture, the "you're an idiot, but you're my whole world". But also you know, that strange feeling that Wu Xie describes, like "when he's there, everything is suddenly alright" lol (just the magical safety vibe esp in SOP). I literally don't know how ppl who read the whole thing watched them and thought "thats not right". It's the fucking overall feeling of.. yes, i'm watching Zhang Qiling.

Just change the book's impending doom of tragical "you're my whole world, but I can't stay and there's no way for this to work" to "we actually have a future and I want to stay in our home with you" and that's basically Yuliang's and Junjie's versions (one on the way, one fully there by the end). But even if for some reason you can't accept this, I still don't get how some could hate it, cause overall they still have basically everything they need. Unlike others who are way off in my opinion, bc of the weird templates they are.

And about "Explore the fuck was that" (lol I'm gonna use this title from now on) seriously, no offense to this creation and everyone who liked it (no judging here for real, everyone likes what they like), I'm not gonna heavily diss anyone or anything, I don't really care for the thing, just telling the truth. No one who's participated in this thing have a fucking idea about the characters they're playing or writing about.

I mean, as a fan many things that were adapted from books, I already do not care for minor divergence or even bigger once, if it makes sense and you see the care and understanding of the characters, but sadly here it felt like no one cared. Like for example honestly if someone asked me what would you choose "watching wu xie and xiao ge but not 100% sticking to the plot" or "loosely watching the plot, but it's not wu xie and xiao ge", I'm gonna pick the first option.

And some will say that's it's only the writers/directors mistakes for not explaining or guiding actors etc, but to be honest it's not completely true, bc as we know many actors if they really care before taking on the role actually try to do a research about the character and read the material to understand what they're playing. Especially if it's such iconic characters of a franchise Сhina's been going crazy over for like a decade.

Like how the hell happened that Zhu Yilong for example while playing embodied all the Wu Xie's traits througout the whole book series from behaving exactly like young Wu Xie did in certain needed parts to going to the cold, strategic and rational old self in others, I mean, they could've just go with the "Restart" one, where not much happens and he could've played just that. But literally each time he did something, I was like "yeah, that's my boo". And that wasn't the part of this exact book, it was part of Wu Xie. Like the way he behaved, acted in some previous situations that you know its him. That's happening only when the actor knows who he's portraying.

Or Yuliang knowing and loving and feeling the character he plays, because he wanted to know and cared.

It's just strange to me, bc if they're not making it for the fans, then for whom do they even make it? For themselves? It's really stupid no matter how you look at it. Like your success depends on it, so what's the point in sinking your own ship I will never get.

I also do not get how could they just fail literally everything. Like casting was a miss already, but good acting and chemistry and putting character's soul in it could've make it great still, but they have literally none of anything, it's just fascinating to me. I just don't think I ever seen something like that, it's kinda funny.

But this is like once again just my opinion. Like everyone is free to think what they think, but maybe just stop yelling "OOC" without knowing the original character, cause maybe it's not really OOC. Like book Xiao Ge is not exactly what many ppl claim him to be really.

[angelicmichael]

Oohh, could you please write the nonsexual prompt sharing a dessert for Outpost Michael and reader? Who wouldn't want to share a dessert with him? Thank you so much. You really are an angel 😇

A/N: anon you are too fucking sweet omg 🥺💖 I hope I didnt dissapoint with this, I'm sorry it's so late and unnecessarily long!! Lmfao. The dessert eating is at the end if anyone wants to just skip to that part hehe. I wanted to write some mutual pining so.. that's why this fic is so fucking long lol

Warnings: eating, food, lil bit of sexual tension, very brief mentions of Millory and also Gallant x Michael 👉🏻👈🏻

Living in Outpost three was beyond miserable. Constantly being treated as a second class citizen, as a gray, was definetly doing its number on you.. Every day that you continued to stay alive in this hellhole you swore you slowly descended further and further into madness. Eating gelatin cubes.. being around the same exact people, day in and day out.. with nothing else to do but to clean, with no end in sight was only a recipe for disaster.

And disaster seemed to come with a name; Langdon.

You didnt believe him when he announced that he was going to pick a select few to take with him to the sanctuary; you knew that was fucking bullshit.. but you had to admit - it was amusing watching the other outpost residents finally get a spark of excitament in their eyes. A reason to be alive.

You watched him take interest in mainly Gallant and Mallory; and that's when you felt something.. distant yet familar. Yearning; attraction, and maybe even jealousy.

It reminded and made you nostalgic of old emotions that you used to feel regularly; which now only visited you vaguely whenever you caught Michael stare for a second too long at either of them.. but it wasnt your job to monitor the relationships that were allegedly occurring.

You kept your head down until you begrudgingly got an interview; honestly surprised at first that Langdon seemed to be giving you a shot at salvation at all.

You were even more surprised at how the actual interview seemed to unfold; how disgustingly touch starved you were and the way in which you reacted to him. You were praying that Langdon didnt notice how your entire body was littered with goosebumps the second he touched you - a harmless gesture with his hand lightly touching your back when he walked by. Or the pure exhilaration you felt when he brushed a tear away from your cheek.. It was honestly embarrassing.

Even more embarrassing was how much you craved to see Langdon again as soon as you left the first interview.

The days following the first initial interview were torturous for you. Your days and even nights became infested with thoughts of Langdon; his blonde locks and light blue eyes even started to follow you and become familar in dreams..

You couldnt stop thinking about him.

You knew it was stupid to crave romance; it was utterly irrational. For one, if Venable were to even catch you looking at Langdon for a couple seconds too long - you knew she would want your head on a stick. That's not even to mention how jealous Gallant and the other residents would possibly be, if anything were to happen.

These thoughts were not realistic though  because you knew Langdon never viewed you like that. He treated you just as he did anyone else.. maybe even worse. He always kept his words short with you and rarely made eye contact most days.

For those reasons; you wrote off your newfound romantic thoughts about Langdon as nothing more but dumb daydreams. Just something to keep you occupied in the day while you tried to make the outpost look spotless. You figured it was a result of being beyond bored; your mind trying to find something to make life interesting once more. Anything. 

That was.. until Langdon invited you for another interview. One interview quickly turned into another.. and another.. and another until seeing Langdon privately was nearly the new normal.

The more you two continued to meet; the more your feelings for him only grew but you still chose to conceal them - well, to the best of your abilities anyway.. there was only much you could hide. However; if you didnt know Langdon prematurely, you wouldve thought he was a idiot or just purely naive for not picking up on the obvious crush you had.

It had been a couple nights now since you had last seen him.. And yet here you were; having another sleepless night that consisted of thinking of dumbass Langdon.

You stayed awake sleepless in your bed. Or.. the bed that was meant to be yours anyway. Nothing like felt home or like it was truly yours at Outpost Three though. You stared at the ceiling hopelessly; wishing you would be so lucky to feel a wave of drowsiness that could hit you and carry you off to your dreams.

You immeadietly sat up and nearly jolted out of bed when you heard three loud knocks rattle your door. The sound was distinct but haunting.. your immediate thought was Venable.. you could only help but to think what the fuck you had recently done to piss her off.

You swiftly walked through the nearly pitch black room and opened the door absentmindedly; trying to not let your paranoid thoughts control your actions and let you hesitate.. just in case it happened to be Langdon.

You would be lying if you were to say that you werent dissapointed when you found no one there; only a letter lay folded neatly on the floor.. directly in front of you.

Snatching it and opening it within the safety of your room; you had to hold back laughter when it was from Langdon - another invitation to go see him.. but it was marked urgent.

You nearly dropped the letter on the floor immeadietly; it wasnt as if you had anything else to do - you already knew you werent going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. You immeadietly took off, albeit as quietly as possible, off to Langdons office. Trying to keep your thoughts of what the hell he wanted to see you so badly for, at bay.

When you reached his room, you didnt bother knocking. You slipped right inside - knowing that knocking would only possibly wake Venable up or alert other residents of your whereabouts. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly approached him.

He sat at his desk; quickly turning around to face you as you entered. His light, ocean colored eyes were wide in what you could only guess was surprise that you came so soon. His mouth was slightly curved into a subtle smile.

"Hi". You uttered with a airy, soft laugh.

You first stood, knowing he would most likely want you to take a seat but you would rather wait for instructions than to just.. assume. You knew Michael had little to no tolerance but surely enough, he nodded at the seat that was directly across from his at the desk.

"Sit". Michael instructed, his gaze followed you as you steadfastly did as you were told.

You realized how carefully Michael was studying you as you walked over and took your seat.. and maybe it was because of the absolutely horrible lighting but you could swear you could almost see blood rushing to his cheeks..

Was he.. blushing??

You sat, completely puzzled as you watched Michael suddenly act flustered.. His motions changing from smooth and calculated to nearly awkward.. and.. just rather odd in a instant. He looked as if he wanted to say something but no words were spoken, that is - until you made the first move.

"Is something.. wrong"? You asked, trying your hardest to bite back laughter.

Seeing Langdon act so.. not like himself was basically pure comedy to you.  Although you would never admit that outloud of course.

He now looked uncomfortable; licking his lips and clasping his hands together at the table before speaking.

"(Y/n), I have to talk to you about something". Michael admitted.

His expression changed from looking rather nervous to serious again; his mouth in a straight line and the muscles in his face relaxed.

You were quite literally sitting on the edge of your seat, your stomach started to do somersaults as you desperately tried to rationally think of what he wanted to say..

"Yeah, of course. What's wrong"? You prompted, your voice coming across as unsteady.

You tried your hardest to not let your voice shake as you spoke, although you were more than certain it showcased exactly how you felt.

Langdon unfolded his hands; appearing to study his rings momentarily before his blue eyes pierced yours - looking as if they were staring right past you.. Not necessarily at you at all.

"Look; theres nothing wrong. You just need to know that theres no need to be nervous around me anymore". Langdon stated matter of factly.

He maintained eye contact with you; diligently waiting for a response as you actually tried to comprehend what he was saying.. Was he implying that you were going to the sanctuary?? Or.. possibly even something else?? Something more?

Your confusion must've been apparent on your face because before you could say anything, Langdon cut in.

"That's not why I asked you to be here with me tonight though. I wanted to.. reward you". He said.

You felt as if your heart had skipped a beat; nearly feeling woozy as your cheeks heated up. A reward?? Saying you felt speechless was a incredible understatement.

"A reward"?? You echoed your thoughts aloud.

Your words came out slow and strained with pure anticipation for what was to perhaps happen. You thought for a split second this had to be some kind of sick joke, or some kind of sick manipulation game. You wouldnt really be surprised; you overheard from the others he was famous for pulling that kind of shit.

"Yes, For giving me company. Close your eyes". Michael answered.

You immeadietly, and dumbly followed orders. However; as soon as you closed your eyes you felt fear pierce your heart. The uncertainty and possibilities of what could happen was jarring - but you had to admit it was also thrilling.

The past few months had been so fucking predictable and boring, a bit of excitement was well over due and actually.. probably healthy. Even if it was fucking terrifying.

You could hear him moving, and then something being placed on his desk in front of you. You first felt your eyebrows furrow as you opened your eyes unwillingly. Pure surprise forcing you to do so and to disobey Langdon.. oh fuck.

You opened your mouth to utter an apology but.. your gaze first caught onto the object in front of you.. leaving you speechless and with your mouth agape.

You marveled at the small slice of cheesecake was that put in front of you.. It looked entirely to good to be true; this had to be a dream.. or maybe a nightmare??

This last time you had eaten anything with any kind of remote flavour had been eons ago. Those memories served you well and made your horrifically boring days a little less painful.

You continued to blankly stare at it; not daring to move, or breathe but.. to just enjoy the view. You were half expecting for this to be some of torture again; for him to rip it away from you but a part of you reassured you that.. this was different. This was him trying, and being genuine.

You looked up to meet Langdons eyes as they intently studied you. A faint smile gracing the corner of his lips. A beautiful sight you rarely got the priviledge of admiring.

"Have some". Michael said, nodding down in direction of the dessert. "I thought you would appreciate the gesture. I cant imagine the shit Venable gives you is enjoyable". Michael sneered with a hint of laughter.

You couldnt help but to let out a giggle as well, looking down once more and noticing that the plate was also embellished with two forks.

"Thank you, Michael. You should have some too though, I dont want to be selfish-" You started, unfolding your hands from your lap and beginning to push the plate towards him.

He quickly stood up and walked up to you, stopping until he was beside you. He grabbed your wrist, tight enough to make you wince but not enough to cause any actual pain - making eye contact again.

"No.. I want to watch you have the first bite". Langdon said.

In a split second, the chair that was once behind his desk materialized right next to you, directly behind him. He sat down, watching you intently as you started to feel stupidly nervous again.

Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to grab the fork, swiftly taking a piece and then  quickly consuming it. You figured the faster you took the first bite - the less nervous you would be.. but his gaze continued to linger on you; intensely watching.

The pleasure you were momentarily wrapped in was insurmountable to anything you had previously felt in months. You had to ground yourself in order to not let a moan escape your mouth.. The rich flavor tasting so unreal; almost too good to be true.

To be completely honest, you forgot that Langdon was there at all until you noticed him grab a fork as well. Also taking a bite and continuing to watch you - clearly amused with your reaction.

You two continued to eat in silence; meanwhile you momentarily began to get lost in your own thoughts yet again. You knew he didnt have to do this; he very well could've just.. had the dessert with someone else, like Mallory, or even enjoyed it by himself, but he purposefully chose you...

Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of how he seemed to subtly state that he returned your affection. You knew there was no way that he didnt know that you harbored feelings for him; the way in which you acted flustered in his prescience had to be a dead give away.

An hour or so later you walked back to your room; the night slowly cutting into the early hours of the morning but you really couldnt care less. You really didnt care about anything, even if Venable found you. The last thought you had before you took a very shortlived nap, was how much of a sneaky bastard Langdon truly was.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance