#Intellectual Virtues

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Truth Seeking

The philosophy of truth seeking involves the rigorous and systematic pursuit of truth and understanding across various domains of knowledge. It encompasses the methodologies, ethical considerations, and intellectual virtues necessary for discerning what is true from what is false. This philosophy is fundamental to disciplines such as epistemology, science, and ethics, and it plays a crucial role in how individuals and societies form beliefs, make decisions, and establish values.

At its core, truth seeking is driven by the belief that truth is valuable and worth pursuing for its own sake, as well as for its practical benefits. Philosophers have long debated the nature of truth, the methods by which it can be discovered, and the criteria for determining its validity. Some key aspects of the philosophy of truth seeking include:

Epistemology: The study of knowledge and justified belief. It explores the nature, scope, and limits of human knowledge, as well as the methods for acquiring and validating it.

Scientific Method: A systematic approach to inquiry that relies on observation, experimentation, and empirical evidence to develop and test hypotheses about the natural world.

Intellectual Virtues: Traits such as open-mindedness, intellectual humility, critical thinking, and perseverance that are essential for effective truth seeking.

Ethical Considerations: The moral responsibilities associated with seeking and disseminating truth, including honesty, integrity, and respect for evidence.

Truth seeking is not just an individual endeavor but also a collective one. It involves the collaborative efforts of communities of scholars, scientists, and thinkers who build upon each other's work, challenge each other's assumptions, and refine their methods over time. In this way, the philosophy of truth seeking underpins the progress of human knowledge and the advancement of society.

[unopenablebox]

and i'm not in it to cure any diseases or resolve any health problems at all! i just really love biology, the academic field of study, but specifically things that are tissue-size and smaller and not the ones that would involve even a genetic disease that we could pretend to think was curable if everything about gene editing was different. it's just fun to look at because of the shapes, and it's exciting to understand how the shapes work. i'm not going to solve anyone's health problems and i'm not going to document any special animals for anyone! i'm going to develop a series of practical tools for getting a better handle on a fundamental conceptual problem that has for the last 30 years bedeviled the Why Do Cells Arrange Themselves In Shapes community and i have no interest in anyone else!

[infinitysisters]

This has always been the problem with the Howard Zinn school of history. Zinn’s history of the US resembles a biography written by a bitter former spouse. In lieu of a nuanced and accurate historical account it offers a deliberate slander of our own culture. The result is at once self-indulgent and self-pitying. A balanced account must not flinch from examining our historical mistakes and misdeeds and those of others, but the modern approach to history has too often become a neurotic wallowing in half-truths of our own failures. The corresponding utopian fantasies of other cultures more closely resemble the morality play of a Tolkien novel than the more complex experiences of people who actually lived on Earth.

As UK-based IEA economist Kristian Niemietz recently observed in a short Twitter thread about “anti-Britishness,” signalling disgust at our own culture and history has little to do with truth or helping marginalized communities. Rather, it is a way to advertise the superficial cleverness of radical self-criticism. By castigating the United States on social media or with our K12 or university students, we can flatter our moral egos without needing to donate money or time to communities in need. It fosters division and the main beneficiaries are not Native Americans or other marginalized groups, but whoever is collecting likes and followers online.

We can do better than this. US history should be clear and accurate about the US’s misdeeds, but we should also acknowledge that the US overcame its faults to become a beacon for progress. In the same way, we should highlight the wonderful culture, arts, religion, and so on of American Indians without turning them into pious exemplars of pastoral innocence and moral instruction. Our “ethnic studies” curricula too often lapse into propaganda designed to indict and shame the West and all its works. People and cultures are complex. If students were permitted to understand that human failings are universal but can be overcome, it might help to alleviate the depression and anxiety of those unjustly burdened by the sins of their ancestors.

__________

Christopher J. Ferguson

excerpt from his book review of ‘Indigenous Continent’ by Pekka Hämäläinen @quilette

https://quillette.com/2023/04/27/uncomfortable-history/

[chronic-claire-universe]

Incoming Matchup for @virtue-and-beneviolence​

Tokyo Revengers

Izana Kurokawa

read the tags 💜

REBLOG ARE APPRECIATED!

[poligraf]

If ignorance and passion are the foes of popular morality, it must be confessed that moral indifference is the malady of the cultivated classes. The modern separation of enlightenment and virtue, of thought and conscience, of the intellectual aristocracy from the honest and common crowd is the greatest danger that can threaten liberty.

— Henri-Frédéric Amiel

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

“I approached any troubling issue concerning the Bible or faith with a single goal: How to prove it was not a reason to stop believing.

Despite ample capacity for critical thinking, when it came to faith, my reasoning was constrained by a very short leash.”

-- Tim Sledge

[bombseel]

I think the "change paragraphs whenever you imagine a camera angle changing" guy and the "no that person is wrong you should read books" girl should kiss actually

[kavehater]

Usually when I’m in my nothing interests me in this world anymore slump i eventually a tiny bit get out of it only momentarily but I fear this time it won’t be the case 🧎‍♀️

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Knowledge Theory

The philosophy of knowledge theory, also known as epistemology, is a branch of philosophy that explores the nature, origin, scope, and limits of human knowledge. It seeks to answer fundamental questions about what knowledge is, how it is acquired, and how we can differentiate between true knowledge and mere belief or opinion.

Epistemology is concerned with several core issues, including:

Definition of Knowledge: One of the central debates in epistemology is the definition of knowledge. The traditional definition, dating back to Plato, is that knowledge is "justified true belief." However, this definition has been challenged and refined over the centuries, particularly with the introduction of the Gettier problems, which illustrate situations where justified true belief might still fail to constitute knowledge.

Sources of Knowledge: Epistemologists investigate various sources of knowledge, such as perception, reason, memory, and testimony. Each source has its strengths and weaknesses, and understanding how they contribute to knowledge is crucial for a comprehensive epistemological framework.

Justification: This involves exploring the criteria and methods by which beliefs are justified. Theories of justification include foundationalism, which posits that certain basic beliefs provide the foundation for all other beliefs, and coherentism, which suggests that beliefs are justified by their coherence with other beliefs.

Skepticism: Epistemology also addresses skepticism, the view that certain or all knowledge is impossible. Philosophers debate various forms of skepticism and attempt to refute or accommodate them within their theories of knowledge.

Epistemic Virtues and Vices: This area examines the intellectual character traits that promote or hinder the acquisition of knowledge, such as open-mindedness, intellectual courage, and intellectual humility. Theories like virtue epistemology focus on these traits as central to understanding how knowledge is gained and maintained.

The Role of Context: Contextualism is the view that the truth-value of knowledge claims can depend on the context in which they are made. This approach addresses how varying standards of evidence and justification might apply in different situations.

Key Theories in Knowledge Theory

Empiricism: The theory that knowledge primarily comes from sensory experience. Prominent empiricists include John Locke, George Berkeley, and David Hume.

Rationalism: The theory that reason and intellectual processes are the primary sources of knowledge. Key rationalists include René Descartes, Baruch Spinoza, and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz.

Constructivism: The theory that knowledge is constructed by individuals through their interactions with the world. Jean Piaget and Lev Vygotsky are notable figures in constructivist thought.

Pragmatism: The theory that knowledge is validated by its practical consequences and utility. Key pragmatists include Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and John Dewey.

Reliabilism: The theory that beliefs are justified if they are produced by processes that reliably yield true beliefs. This approach focuses on the reliability of the cognitive processes involved in belief formation.

Virtue Epistemology: This theory emphasizes the role of intellectual virtues—character traits that contribute to the acquisition and retention of knowledge. Figures like Linda Zagzebski and Ernest Sosa have contributed significantly to this field.

The philosophy of knowledge theory is a dynamic and complex field that continues to evolve as new challenges and perspectives emerge. It plays a critical role in our understanding of how we come to know what we know and in addressing fundamental questions about the nature and limits of human cognition.

[compassionatereminders]

You are not superior to the person who is nonverbal. You are not superior to the person who needs a carer. You are not superior to the person who wears diapers. You are not superior to the person who can't manage a job or an education. You are not superior to the person who is intellectually and/or cognitively disabled. You are not superior to the people in psych wards and group homes. You are not superior to the person in the wheelchair. You are not superior to the person on disability benefits. You are not inherently superior to any of these people just by virtue of being more capable in comparison. Leave your ableism at the door or don't enter

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter One. Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: Sub/Dom, Toxic Behaviour, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Begging, DubCon, CNC.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

You were a good girl, and an exemplary student. One who consistently demonstrated exceptional discipline and commitment. Your dedication to academics was unwavering, as you diligently followed the rules and guidelines, never straying from the prescribed path.

Your singular focus was on nurturing your intellectual curiosity, and you showed no interest in indulging in activities that might distract you from your educational pursuits. Your life was calm, quiet, and focused.

Until, one day everything fucking changed.

———

In the enchanted realm of Hogwarts, there resided a studious and exceptionally bright seventh-year Ravenclaw witch, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and her steadfast commitment to the noble pursuit of knowledge. This young sorceress, a paragon of virtue, refrained from the temptations that often lured her peers, steering clear of parties, alcohol, and the haze of smoke that veiled the Ravenclaw common room during clandestine gatherings.

Her life was meticulously ordered, her goals sharply defined. But the universe had a curious sense of humor, for it threw her into an unexpected affiliation with the most notorious bad boy in Slytherin:

Mattheo fucking Riddle.

He, the embodiment of rebellion, was a stark contrast to her pristine existence. Mattheo's reputation preceded him: a Slytherin troublemaker, one who was almost always found in the midst of chaos. His devil-may-care attitude was a challenge to authority, and there was not one singular individual that could tie him down.

Yet, fate had woven their paths together, forcing the astute young witch to confront the complexity of human nature, unraveling layers of his defiance while simultaneously testing the boundaries of her own steadfast resolve.

And that witch; that poor fucking witch--well, that was you.

———

"Please, Riddle...if you'd take a seat," you ran your tongue along the backside of your teeth, straightening your posture in your chair as you tried to contain your irritation. "...I must express my desire to commence our endeavors prior to the conclusion of the academic term."

"Eager, are we?" Mattheo sneered, sauntering toward the desk painfully fucking slow. "You know, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is mastery. I'll sit when I'm fuckin' ready to sit."

His voice was low, the sadistic drawl of his tone making your bones ignite with fury. Gods, he certainly fucking loved testing you.

"And I won't tell you again...call me Mattheo."

You inhaled a sharp breath, flattening out your blue uniform skirt against your thighs as you bit your tongue hard enough to make it bleed.

"Rome may not have been built in a day, but it certainly collapsed in one--now, I won't ask again, Riddle..." you looked up, meeting his dark obsidian eyes, fighting back a sadistic smirk of your own as he narrowed his gaze in challenge. "Take. A. Seat."

The words were clipped behind your teeth with an obvious urgency that shut Mattheo up for a few seconds, the gears turning inside his head as he contemplated how he could one up your little jab--a constant occurrence that seemed to happen every single fucking time you met with him.

At this point, your tutor sessions were an easy seventy percent bickering with the remaining thirty being a half-assed session of one-sided discussion where he mostly offers you fleeting blank stares while zoning you out. You hated that you'd agreed to this, but you knew you needed to get on (and remain on) Professor Dumbledores good side if you wanted a career here at the school after you graduated--and you were so fucking hungry for it you'd do almost anything to solidify your fate.

Even if it meant surrendering your sanity to the hands of Mattheo fucking Riddle.

You chose not to let him, of all individuals, tarnish your path. Your reputation, fragile as it may have been, resembled a tinderbox, and he was the combustible element, ready to erupt at any given moment. This resolve became your steadfast anchor, shaping the direction of your choices.

"You know," Mattheo said as he finally slumped down into the chair across from you, his tousled brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. "I was under the impression that the brilliant Ravenclaws such as yourself valued intellect over impulsive haste..." he tilted his head, his gaze scanning every movement of your body as you stared at him. "It was my understanding that impatience was more of a Gryffindor trait."

Your fingers trembled with palpable irritation, yet you understood the imperative need to suppress it. You couldn't afford to reveal just how deeply he affected you, realizing that acknowledging it would subject you to endless taunts and jibes, a fate you were determined to avoid at any cost. This restraint became your shield in moments such as these.

"You wish to discuss house values, Riddle?" You tilted your head, straightening out your posture once again. "Because I, in complete honesty, was under the impression that Slytherins were known for their resourcefulness...your reluctance to cooperate suggests a rather curious lack of ambition."

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his expression growing icier. "Resourcefulness doesn't mean blindly following every stupid instruction thrown at you, and ambition means choosing the battles worth fighting, not wasting time on pathetic, trivial matters."

With a subtle smirk, he leaned back, hooking his arm on the back of his chair as he eyed your discomfort--seemingly undisturbed by your challenge--and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, somehow knowing he wasn't finished.

And of course, he wasn't. "If you really believe this seemingly-stubborn insistence on when or if I sit reflects a lack of ambition, you clearly misunderstand the depths of Slytherin cunning. We pick our battles wisely, and right now, this isn't one of them."

Your blood pressure surged, the crimson currents in your veins reaching their boiling point. Months of enduring relentless bickering and one-upmanship had pushed you to the edge--this man may be an utter degenerate but he certainly knows how to use his mouth when it matters. You could no longer bear the weight of this incessant game, and in a fleeting moment of frustration, you finally succumbed to the pressure.

You knew this was your breaking point.

"I'm just trying to fucking help you." You said, before you even realized you had. You hardly ever cussed, never out loud--that is. "If you don't want to be here, then get out. I promise you, you won't be hurting my feelings if you do."

He huffed, leaning forward and crossing his hands together on top of the desk as he wet his stupidly plush lips, a devilish grin swallowing his cheeks while he revelled in the fact he'd so clearly fucking won. Yet again.

"No," he said. "I don't think I will."

You clucked your tongue, irritated even further at his response, gaze narrowing ever-so-slightly before you rolled your eyes--brushing off his suffocating arrogance and pulling your textbook out of your bag, slamming it down on top of the desk between your bodies.

"The Grimoire of Arcane Relics?" Mattheo read the title out loud, voice laced with a confused, almost offended undertone. "We don't cover this until the middle of second term..."

You cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Seems a bit...hasty, to shove this down my throat so early on," his voice carried a sadistic drawl that nearly made you leap across the desk and choke him unconscious. This man knew how to fucking test you. "Would it not be far more beneficial to proceed in the order the books are taught?"

You drew in another swift breath, the fabric of your navy robes clinging to your form, trembling fingers smoothing out any wrinkles on your button-up blouse as you adjusted it.

"I was unaware..." you said, not bothering to look up. "...that the individual I'd be tutoring this term was in fact a professor, and not a seventh year student..." you glimpsed him now, offering him merely but a slight tilt of your head as you watched his jaw tense. "...I must have been ill-informed, do pardon my ignorance."

"A moment of self-awareness? What a fucking breakthrough for you, Raven...pity it took you so long." He was clasping his hands together on top of the desk with enough force to involuntarily crack his knuckles. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, though I wouldn't hold my fucking breath."

"Please don't," you said, teeth gritting. "We wouldn't want to deprive your already-oxygen-starved brain of any more, now would we? It needs all the help it can get."

Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a teasing smirk, highlighting the scars that adorned them. The effect he had on you was undeniable, a sensation you longed to dismiss more than anything. However, with every passing moment in his presence, resisting the pull of attraction became an increasingly futile endeavour--yes, he was suffocatingly arrogant, but Gods, he was fucking attractive.

And he knew it.

"Quite the fucking mouth on you, I'll admit..." he dropped his voice to a low whisper, so deep it practically rattled your bones as it vibrated through you. "Never met a Ravenclaw with such an attitude problem...maybe I could tutor you on how to fix that issue, once we're done here, of course."

Your stomach twisted, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire. Curse him and his painstakingly arrogant charm. Curse him to bloody hell.

"It'd be a cold day in hell before I take any sort of guidance from you, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice accidentally reverberating as a seductive pitch. "And even then, I'd probably still refrain."

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?..." his eyes darkened, an evil mischief crawling its way through his irises. "What would daddy Dumbledore think about the way you're speaking to me, huh?"

Your heart stalled. "I-"

Your words faltered as Mattheo stood up, moving leisurely like a predatory creature circling its prey, until he was right beside you. His eyes, sharp as daggers, bored into your skull, and he loomed over you, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips into a cruel curve. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, knotting your stomach with an unsettling mix of fear and desire.

He placed a singular hand on your desk, leaning down closer to your level. "Perhaps I pay him a little visit...perhaps I tell him that you've been missing lessons, that you've been extremely unprofessional...perhaps I somehow fail my next exam...perhaps-"

"Okay, okay!" You panicked, cutting him off. "You've made your point, Riddle...I'm sorry, okay?" The words were fucking painful as you forced them past your teeth, and you swallowed your ego, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please?"

Mattheo huffed, gratified by how effortlessly his threats appeared to compel your submission. The gears turned in his head as he grasped the extent of the power he truly wielded over you. He fully understood that your entire post-graduate career almost certainly depended on his decisions, and he was eagerly anticipating taking action.

"I like the way you say please..." his voice was breathless, his dark eyes consumed by something you couldn't really identify as he slumped down in the chair directly next to you, his sight never once leaving yours. "Do it again."

Your body tensed, immobilized as he inched closer, his penetrating eyes scrutinizing your features with intense focus. It was no secret that Mattheo had been oblivious to your existence until he was placed under your guidance--despite being the most popular Slytherin student in the school, you, a practically invisible Ravenclaw, were easy to overlook. It had taken him over three weeks to even remember your name, a fact he never bothered to acknowledge, let alone use.

But within that time frame, within the time you'd been tutoring him; as much as he drove you mentally fucking insane, you couldn't deny that every time he'd show up for lessons with torn knuckles, cut lips and alcohol radiating from his breath--you couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of your stomach.

Whether that sensation was disgust, arousal, or sheer terror, you couldn't quite pinpoint. It was a feeling that whispered in your veins, urging you to surrender to the dominance he held over you. It screamed for you to let him have his way without resistance, because just as he commanded your obedience, he wielded the same control over the entire damn school. The prospect of defying him felt like a dangerous game you weren't willing to play.

"Riddle-"

He tilted his head, his face dangerously close to yours now, his eyes peering into your soul as he stared. As he wet his lips, his breath turning shallow, you felt a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and one between your thighs as well.

"I said, do it again." His voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his eyes studying you as though you were a page of a textbook. Not that he'd ever read one of those. "Go on, Raven...beg for me..."

Your breath hitched, and you involuntarily clutched the edges of the wooden chair between your fingers with an indescribable force. You didn't want to admit it--not to Mattheo, not to anyone really--but you were a virgin. You'd never even kissed a boy; your entire life was devoted to your studies...so this...this was extremely fucking new to you.

When you remained silent, Mattheo's eyes darkened even further, turning a shade of obsidian so intense they put even the stormiest midnight skies to shame.

"You want me to keep your perfect little reputation intact, hm?" He breathed, leaning closer. "You want me to help you stay on Dumbledores good side?"

Your throat was more arid than the desert, and you nodded, unable to blink--unable to peel your fucking eyes off of him.

"Then do as I say..." he murmured, a large battered hand finding purchase on your thigh, your entire body involuntarily flinching at the foreign contact. "I want to hear you, Raven."

You stared down at his hand resting lazily over the fabric of your blue uniform skirt--it's massive size swallowing up almost the entirety of your thigh, calloused palm catching on the pleats as it slid upwards, agonizingly slowly--and when he paused, stretching his fingers around the diameter of your thigh the best he could, fingers digging into your flesh as he squeezed; you gasped, involuntarily, and he huffed--bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"One more chance..." he purred, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You won't like what'll happen-"

"Please!" You snapped, squeezing your thighs together out of pure desperation. "Please, Mattheo...please, let's just get this over with..."

"Mm." He hummed in satisfaction, slowly pulling his hand off of you. "That's fucking right..." he murmured, warm breath tickling your ear. "Nothing is sweeter than your submission, Raven."

You swallowed, not daring to look at him, nodding your head frantically in response as he pulled away, slumping back in the chair--not once peeling his eyes off of you, spreading his legs way-too-fucking wide as he made himself comfortable--he was silent, now, watching your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, watching the way you squirmed in your chair at his sudden dominance--a dominance that had an effect on you that you couldn't even begin to describe.

And then, before you could even realize what was happening, Mattheo leaned back in, his fingers gripping your jaw and tilting your face towards his--and as you meet his dark, intoxicating eyes, your lungs stalled, entire body shrinking in your seat as he stared at you with such intensity that you felt like he could see right through you.

"From now on, I'm in charge here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"

You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat, and watched his darkened amber eyes as they glanced over your lips, lingering there for far too long, before returning back up to meet your gaze--something swimming in his irises that made your stomach twist.

When you were silent, he tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Use your words, Raven..."

"Yes." You squeaked, voice barely audible. "I understand."

He hummed, a devilish smirk crawling across his lips, fingers digging into your jaw with added pressure as he pulled you closer, lips so close you'd touch with a deep enough breath.

"Understand, what?" He breathed, eyes dipping over your lips yet again. "Say my fucking name."

"Mattheo..." you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only obey his words as though he was controlling you like a puppet on strings. "I understand, Mattheo."

He huffed, smirking. "Good girl, Raven..." his voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his full lashes fluttering as he blinked, meeting your eyes. "You learn so quickly...I should have done this months ago..."

When he pulled back, slowly releasing you, air slowly returned to your lungs; not enough to rid the dizziness from your brain but just enough to keep you conscious. Mattheo turned toward the desk now, as though nothing even happened, gesturing for you to start the lesson.

And somehow, you did.

—————-

Chapter two->

[alyrasturnz]

can you do a professor matt fanfic please

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ TEACHERS PET

❐ summary » when y/n finds herself on the brink of failure, desperation seeps into her every action, driving her to seek assistance with an intensity that borders on frantic.

❐ pairings » professor!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » oral (m receiving), cream pie, overstimulation, age gap

❐ a/n && w/c » jake peralta is so hot 😕 do we want a jake peralta fic • 3.02k

you were the paragon of virtue, the golden child who navigated the treacherous waters of youth with unwavering precision. your report cards gleamed with the brilliance of straight a's, and your name was synonymous with diligence and integrity. teachers sang your praises, and trouble was a distant storm that never touched your shores.

but now, the winds have shifted. the once-clear skies of your academic journey have darkened with ominous clouds. your grades, once as steady as the north star, have begun to waver, dipping and diving like a ship caught in a tempest. the whispers of concern have grown louder, and the familiar path you tread has become fraught with uncertainty.

your once-sterling grades, once the envy of your peers, had begun a slow, inexorable decline, and you found yourself adrift in a sea of confusion, unable to pinpoint the cause of your academic descent. it was this very uncertainty that had prompted your professor, a figure of authority and wisdom, to summon you to his office, seeking to unravel the mystery behind your faltering performance.

he was the professor that every student coveted, the one whose lectures were attended as much for his intellectual prowess as for his undeniable allure. his presence commanded the room, and his striking appearance only added to the magnetic pull he had over his students.

thus, you resolved to seize this moment as the ideal opportunity to weave a spell of seduction around him.

it was a win-win situation. you would have the chance to engage in a clandestine affair with the most desirable professor on campus while simultaneously navigating a path to academic redemption.

your fingers brushed against the cold, unyielding metal of the doorknob, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. with deliberate slowness, you began to turn it, each millimeter of movement accompanied by the faintest creak, until finally, a soft, almost imperceptible click echoed in the stillness. the door yielded to your touch, swinging open with a quiet sigh.

he was seated at his desk, the soft glow of the laptop illuminating his features. his fingers moved with a practiced grace, dancing across the keyboard with a rhythm that spoke of both familiarity and focus. each keystroke seemed to weave a tapestry of thoughts and ideas, a silent symphony of intellect and intent.

you bit your bottom lip, a mischievous smirk playing on your face as you sauntered in, the air around you charged with a palpable sense of anticipation.

his gaze snapped towards you, eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and intent. “y/n, take a seat," he commanded, his voice a low rumble as he closed his laptop with a decisive click. you closed the door behind you, the soft thud resonating in the room, and with a stealthy twist, you turned the lock. your heels clicked on the hardwood floor, each step echoing the tension that hung in the air.

you gracefully lowered yourself onto the seat in front of his desk, your eyes keenly observing as matt rummaged through his drawers, his movements deliberate and methodical. he eventually extracted a stack of papers, each one seeming to carry the weight of unspoken secrets and untold stories.

"how have you been?" he inquired, placing the papers on his desk with a measured precision before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the polished surface. his gaze locked onto yours, penetrating and earnest. "anything going on at home?"

you shook your head gently, a subtle motion that spoke volumes. "i've been fine," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. he nodded in response, the gesture carrying an unspoken understanding.

"well, y/n, it has come to my attention that your grades have been slipping. any idea why?" he inquired, his eyebrows arching in a display of both concern and curiosity.

you offered a soft shrug, your gaze falling to the floor, a silent admission of uncertainty. he sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken worries.

"look, you're a good student. i know you can do better than this," he said, his fingers threading through his hair, pausing momentarily as if seeking solace in the familiar motion. his hand lingered, then slowly swept back, a gesture that conveyed his deep-seated concern and earnest hope for your improvement.

your voice took on a softer, more alluring tone, each word carefully chosen to convey sincerity. "professor, is there anything i can do to improve my grade?" you asked, your eyes searching his for a glimmer of understanding and guidance.

he furrowed his eyebrows, deep lines etching across his forehead as he tried to decipher your intentions. "what are you implying, y/n?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"well... i have a couple of things in mind," you said, batting your eyelashes with a hint of playful mischief. as you stood up and walked towards him, you twirled a strand of hair around your finger, each step deliberate and filled with subtle allure.

for a moment, it seemed like he might give in, his gaze softening ever so slightly. but then, with a resolute shake of his head, his expression hardened, becoming stern and unyielding. "no, y/n. sit down and let’s discuss this properly before you do something you’ll regret," he commanded, his tone strict and authoritative, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

you sighed and sat down, the weight of his seriousness settling over you. as he began to outline a plan for extra lessons, his voice steady and methodical, you nodded in agreement, all the while your mind was already weaving the threads of your next move, plotting a new course of action.

he had handed you a stack of meticulously prepared worksheets, each one brimming with questions designed to test your understanding and earn you extra credit.

you placed the tip of your pen between your teeth, leaning back in your chair with a thoughtful demeanor. your eyes lingered on your professor, a blend of curiosity and contemplation dancing within them. as you observed him, the gears of your mind visibly turned.

he was diligently grading tests on his laptop, his gaze unwavering and intense. his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, creating deep lines on his forehead, as he meticulously assessed each answer with a discerning eye.

you decided to adopt a different strategy. with a deliberate motion, you unbuttoned your shirt slightly, allowing it to fall open just enough to reveal the delicate lace of your bra, a subtle yet provocative gesture meant to shift the dynamics of the moment.

you “accidentally” let your pen slip from your grasp, and as it clattered to the floor, you stood up with measured grace. bending over slowly to retrieve it, you couldn't help but notice the fleeting flicker in his eyes, a brief betrayal of his struggle to maintain a veneer of professionalism amidst the subtle tension.

"y/n, stop it," he finally uttered, his voice laden with strain. a smirk played on your lips as you sauntered towards him, each step deliberate and charged with intent.

"what am i doing, professor? do you think i'm attempting to seduce you?" you asked, batting your eyelashes with feigned innocence. "perhaps it's you who desires me, and you simply can't bring yourself to admit it," you continued, your voice dripping with a mix of challenge and allure.

his jaw tightened, but he struggled to maintain his composure. "just focus on your work, y/n," he commanded, his voice barely concealing the tension. but you merely smirked, the challenge in your eyes unmistakable.

you could see the conflict in his eyes, a tempest of emotions swirling within as he waged an internal battle against his own desires. each fleeting glance and furrowed brow betrayed the struggle he faced, torn between his sense of duty and the undeniable pull of his longing.

you gracefully settled yourself onto his lap, your hands finding their place upon his shoulders. as your touch connected, he let out a shaky exhale, the breath escaping him like a whisper of surrender.

you leaned in close, your lips a mere breath away from his ear. in a voice as soft as a summer breeze, you whispered, "professor, don't you want to feel alive?" your words hung in the air, a tantalizing promise of forbidden exhilaration.

it was the breaking point. the dam of his self-control shattered, and in that moment, his resolve crumbled. before he knew it, his lips crashed against yours in a fervent and passionate embrace, the culmination of all the suppressed desires that had been simmering beneath the surface.

your fingers became entangled in the silken strands of his hair, while his hands instinctively found their place upon your waist, anchoring you both in a moment of shared intimacy.

he swiftly reached down to unfasten his belt, the sound of the leather hitting the floor echoing in the room. all the while, he kept your lips connected, not breaking the kiss even as he deftly unzipped his jeans.

he reluctantly disconnected your lips, allowing his kisses to trail slowly down your skin, each one a lingering promise. as he descended, he deftly pulled his length free from the confines of his boxers, his movements deliberate and filled with a restrained intensity.

you felt his length make contact with your abdomen, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. the sensation was both unexpected and electrifying, sending a shiver through your entire being.

your eyes fluttered open, drawn downward to the sight of his length. your lips parted involuntarily, a silent expression of the myriad emotions coursing through you.

you felt the cool, almost electrifying touch of his fingertips as they brushed against your thigh, sending a cascade of shivers through your body. his grip tightened momentarily, a silent promise of what was to come.

with a practiced ease, his hand journeyed to your core, deftly sliding your underwear to the side. as his fingers began their slow, deliberate exploration, each movement was a symphony of sensation, resonating through every fiber of your being. your breath hitched, anticipation and desire intertwining in a dance as old as time itself.

a soft moan escaped your lips, intertwining with his guttural groan. "you’re so tight," he grumbled, his voice a rough whisper of desire. with each thrust of his fingers, a rhythm was established, an intimate dance of passion and need. your body responded instinctively, arching towards him, each movement a silent plea for more.

he continued to pump his fingers in and out, each movement more deliberate and intense than the last. your breath quickened, your body trembling with each wave of pleasure that coursed through you. his eyes locked onto yours, a primal hunger evident in his gaze. “so wet f’me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. you could feel the tension building within you, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

he withdrew his fingers, leaving a void where ecstasy once thrived. the intense pleasure that had enveloped you began to wane, replaced by a sense of longing. a soft whine escaped your lips, a testament to the sudden absence of his touch. the air seemed to thicken with the lingering heat of your shared intimacy, a silent plea hanging between you.

he patted your thigh with a firm yet gentle touch, his voice a commanding whisper, "stand up." the words carried an undeniable authority, compelling you to rise. his eyes bore into yours, leaving no room for hesitation.

"on your knees," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. without a moment's hesitation, you slid off his lap and sank gracefully onto your knees, your movements a fluid response to his authoritative directive.

he seized your head with a firm grip, guiding you with a forceful urgency. his length thrust into your mouth, each movement deliberate and unyielding, leaving you to adjust to the intensity of his desire.

as he continued, the rhythm grew more insistent, each thrust a testament to his overwhelming need. the room seemed to pulse with the raw energy of the moment, every sensation heightened, every breath a shared experience. your senses were engulfed, the world outside fading into insignificance.

the intensity of the connection left you breathless, every fiber of your being attuned to his movements. the room seemed to blur, the only clarity found in the rhythm you shared. your hands gripped his thighs, grounding yourself in the midst of the overwhelming sensations.

he thrust into your throat with an unrelenting force, causing your eyes to water as you struggled to accommodate his length. the intensity of the moment was palpable, each movement drawing forth a fresh wave of sensation, leaving you on the precipice of surrender.

soon enough, his movements became more urgent, pounding into your mouth with a final series of thrusts. you felt the warm, liquid release stream down your throat as he let out a deep, guttural groan, each sound resonating with the culmination of his desire.

you stood up, and he followed suit, swiftly positioning himself behind you. with a firm hand on your back, he pushed you against his desk, the suddenness of the movement eliciting a gasp from your lips. the unexpected force left you breathless, the cool surface of the desk contrasting sharply with the heat of the moment.

your chest pressed firmly against the cool surface of his desk as he tore your underwear apart with a swift, decisive motion, the fabric ripping audibly before he discarded it onto the desk. the sensation of the sudden exposure sent a shiver down your spine, heightening the tension in the room.

"hey!" you exclaimed, turning your head back to face him, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and indignation.

"i'll get you a new one," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive promise as he ran his tip along your folds. "so wet," he whispered, the words dripping with a mixture of admiration and desire.

a sigh escaped your lips, a soft, involuntary response to the sensation that coursed through you.

and without warning, his hips collided with yours, sending a blinding cascade of stars across your vision.

"fuck!" you cursed, feeling your walls violently pulsate against his girthy length, each throb a testament to the overwhelming intensity coursing through you.

his hand flew to your mouth, stifling any sound as he momentarily withdrew his hips, only to thrust back in with a force that elicited a loud, unrestrained moan from your lips.

"keep quiet. you can do that for me, hm?" he gritted through his teeth, his voice a strained whisper. You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the command with a silent promise.

"mhm," you moaned out, a soft sound escaping your lips. he smirked, removing his hand from your mouth, and began to rut his hips against yours with a deliberate, primal rhythm.

he picked up the torn garment, forcefully stuffing it into your mouth, effectively silencing you as you let out a muffled moan.

"such a whore, fucking your professor," he tutted, his voice dripping with condescension, as you responded with inaudible moans, your body betraying your struggle for restraint.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, whispering, "i wonder what they'd think if they knew." your moans grew more desperate, each sound a testament to the tangled web of desire and shame enveloping you.

his hand trailed down your body, fingers dancing over your skin, igniting sparks of sensation. "do you like this?" he murmured, his voice a low, taunting whisper. your body responded with a shiver, an involuntary arch of your back, as you let out another muffled moan.

he smirked at your reaction, his eyes darkening with a mix of satisfaction and desire. "i thought so," he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. his hand continued its journey, each touch a reminder of the power he held over you, as you struggled to maintain control over your own body.

as his length found that exquisite nexus within you, your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back in sheer ecstasy, while he relentlessly drove into you, each thrust a merciless symphony of pleasure and intensity.

"sir—" you moaned, your voice barely a whisper, lost in the symphony of your shared ecstasy.

“hold it," he commanded, his voice a low growl, even as he continued his relentless, unyielding rhythm, each thrust a testament to his unwavering dominance.

your body quivered under his command, every nerve ending ignited by the intensity of his movements. you struggled to obey, the overwhelming sensation pushing you to the edge.

each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it nearly impossible to comply. your breaths came in ragged gasps, and you clung to the last threads of control, desperate to hold on as he demanded.

your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back as the knot in your stomach coiled tighter, a tempest of sensation threatening to consume you entirely.

each wave of pleasure built upon the last, cascading through your body with an intensity that left you breathless, teetering on the brink of surrender.

tears welled up in your eyes, a testament to the overwhelming flood of sensations that coursed through you, each one amplifying the other in a symphony of overstimulation.

each tear that escaped carried with it the weight of the pleasure and intensity, a silent testament to the depths of your experience, leaving you on the precipice of surrender.

"please," you murmured, your voice a mere whisper, almost lost amidst the symphony of sensations, a desperate plea woven into the very air around you.

he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered, “give it to me, slut.” finally, with a knowing smile, he granted you release. the tension that had built up within you snapped like a taut string, and the waves of ecstasy crashed over you with an overwhelming force.

your body trembled, each convulsion a testament to the intensity of the moment, leaving you breathless and utterly spent, yet deeply fulfilled.

he thrusted into you, his movements becoming more urgent, and with a final, powerful thrust, his release surged through you, intertwining with your own, creating an intimate blend of shared ecstasy.

[genericpuff]

completely off topic but regarding something that i saw pop up in my FB feed and i need to rant about

please do not fall for this shit

nintendo is NOT anti-AI.

it's really easy for them to say they're not going to use generative AI to create their games, because this statement has nothing to do with the very real issues with AI art such as the blatant theft of artists' work, environmental impact, replacement of humans in the industry, and just flat out unethical shit that AI has been designed around

it has EVERYTHING to do with their intellectual property rights, which Nintendo is NOTORIOUS for protecting with an iron fist even at their own expense. and i'm not talking the usual sensible argument shit like "ofc Nintendo wants to protect their IP's, they're a business!" i'm talking about the fact that this is the same company that just recently did a major takedown of the vast majority of Nintendo-licensed games on Vimm's Lair which aren't even being sold legitimately anywhere anymore-

i have so many fucking bones to pick with the flaccid bootlicking anti-piracy arguments out there but basically it comes down to this:

Nintendo is not a small indie company. They are literally one of the biggest, richest, most powerful gaming companies on the planet, rivalling Disney in just how many major franchises they own and profit off of. Many of their games are cultural classics, not just through the sentimentality and nostalgia of our childhoods, but also for all the innovations they made through games like Super Mario Bros, Super Mario 64, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and many others that we, within the world of gaming, owe a lot to and should be able to access and play. It's not a matter of "wanting these games for free", it's a matter of wanting to be able to access these games, period, and Nintendo is deadset on making it as difficult as possible, even when it doesn't necessarily profit from them (need I remind you that many of the games that were taken down from Vimm's Lair are NOT available through their shitty, poorly-ported emulation subscription service - plus that subscription service can be altered and/or removed at any time, regardless of what you paid for, just like the Wii Virtual Console was, meaning you do not own any of the games you're paying to play on there.)

This isn't about being "cheap" or "not wanting to pay for games". This is about media preservation and the virtue of actually owning the things we pay for. If these games were resold at official outlets for reduced prices or made more accessible through e-shops that don't close down in between console generations or drip feed the odd legacy title every few months or release crappy ports on their outdated af tech for only a few months at a time for three times the price of their original value, people would gladly pay. It's the fact that people are having to put up with all of the hoops that Nintendo has put in place to prevent them from even handing them money to play their favorite titles that even drives them to piracy to begin with, and Nintendo will gladly shut those sites down to protect their IP even when it's an IP they're no longer profiting from and aren't making active efforts to sell.

Like, I would gladly hand over a reasonable amount of money (i.e. not the cost of a brand new triple A title in 2024 which is like $80-$100 here in Canada) for Diddy Kong Racing on the Switch, but ofc it's not on the fucking online play store and even if it was, I'd have to deal with paying an overpriced subscription fee for a port of the game that would undoubtedly run WORSE than it does on my PC, and that subscription service can be taken down at any time. But Nintendo wants me to not pirate the game that's not available on their shitty subscription service because... just don't do it, pretty please??

Nintendo is not anti-AI. They would gladly use AI in place of manual labor to scour the internet and dish out DMCA's to every emulation site, archived ROM hub, fan game, and artist alley creator if they could... oh wait, they already are.

Do not fall for the virtues of anti-AI when it comes to companies like Nintendo. They are not anti-AI. They're anti-ownership. They're anti-preservation.

[cordycepsfem]

Today in “we get it, you hate JKR” or “is this really activism?”:

Oh no! The community - like most - enjoys Harry Potter?! Better slap that nonsense out of their mouths ASAP. Don’t they know how bad that is? Librarians should always go against their community’s needs and interests, it’s how they stay open!

This man goes on to say that the library actually experienced a run-in with a conservative group that attacked the library through legislation, nearly got it shut down, and sent death threats to library staff. So obviously the best thing to do is write them a self-serving letter about how Harry Potter Bad:

Some brain trusts in the comments point out that their communities are not Woke Enough and continue to enjoy an engaging book series for young people. One even claims to minimize Harry Potter’s presence as much as possible at their library, like any honest librarian would.

Oh no! Children enjoy reading?? What should we do to shut that nightmare down??

Further intellectuals let us know that JKR Has Always Been Bad and Why Does Thing Need Theme At All If Not Woke:

“Surely something that’s generic and shows that we are Firmly Against That Woman would be more fun to organize?”

Harry Potter is hanging on because it is a good book series, a good movie series… it’s games and a theme park and people like it. It has nothing to do with money being “tied up” in it, that’s just called “people talking with their money” or “being normal consumers.”

I love the lengths these people will go to in order to find any fault with the series or events around it, just so they can virtue-signal how much they hate JKR.

Nick the Geek: leave your fucking library alone. Or start doing activism for it that isn’t performative. Donate books. Tutor ESL learners. Offer to give your time teaching hobbies to others. Help seniors with computers. Those all take work, but they are things the library actually needs, not another bearded man whose profile says he’s “trying to be nicer” writing them useless letters. Their programming was probably already bought and paid for, with a specifically allocated budget, and you demanding they change course does nothing but add onto the pile of nonsense they don’t need.

[spiderfreedom]

“No woman could have been Nietzsche or Rimbaud without ending up in a whorehouse or lobotomized.” - Dworkin

Ok but this is such a raw quote. Think about it seriously. What woman would have been allowed to ignore household chores to focus on learning and writing? What woman would have been allowed to be acerbic and controversial?

Women were paid so poorly for their work that being a spinster meant being destitute. You can’t publish your great masterpiece if you spend most of your day working and the rest barely hanging on with the misery you’re paid.

The high paying professions are closed to you. Higher education was closed to you. You could become a prostitute, and historically prostitutes for the upper class have access to more education in order to entertain wealthy man. But most prostitutes don’t serve the upper class and are subject to the same poverty as the working spinster. Even the courtesan who dared to publicly exist risked the wrath of men, because men loathe prostitutes going “outside their place.”

So you marry, and to marry you need to stamp down all your intellectual traits. You must preoccupy yourself with menial labor. You must flatter mens egos. You must have and rear children. There is no time to write or think, and your husband may destroy your work if you do.

A very small number of women (usually from upper class families) managed to write and think, against all odds. But they had to be born to good class and have very supportive family, and either avoid marriage or have a very supportive husband. In other words, the equivalent of winning successive lotteries.

If you were too out of control, you could be committed to a madhouse, or lobotimized, or drugged into submission.

The path successful women thinkers had to walk was extremely narrow; and the cliffs led to poverty, disease, abuse, death, servitude. We’ve only recently succeeded in broadening that path, thanks to the ceaseless work of women pioneers in the 19th and 20th centuries that broke legal and social chains. And there are more chains to break yet. Too many great thinkers are doubtless still being lost by virtue of their sex, race, class, disability, country, etc.

Don’t forget what we’ve lost. Keep fighting. We can make the narrow path into a supportive field.

[artofchira]

there’s a reason corporate-made art is clean, sanitized, and designed to make you feel good, and indie, pulp or hobby art is often weird, offputting, scary, challenging, derivative, extremely specific and hard to relate to

the first is trying to get you in their pocket, the latter is trying to say something that is, if not honest, then at least interesting, and innately representative of how weird, offputting, scary, challenging, derivative, extremely specific and hard to relate to people are.

there’s no financial incentive to make art for the sake of making art because that’s art that’s made to exclude you, unless its specificity and your curiosity is relevant to you.

but there sure is huge financial incentive to brainwash you into thinking a group of marketing execs and established billionaire corporations/publishers that never make you feel bad or explore a scary thought about anything ever while they actively brutalize attempts for unionization of the artists who make their product and exploit them until there’s no blood in them left to give is making representative art the right way -- all to get richer off of your moral dilemma and hysteria

the idea that art should be accessible and clean for everyone and used as an example of what to think about the world isn’t art, it’s propaganda and a profit motive. expecting all art to be like this doesn’t make you progressive, it makes you a conservative-capitalist conspirator that thinks being anti-intellectual is a virtue and curiosity and uncomfortable introspection is a sin