#i know the truth is its not one factor

[imunbreakabledude]

i miss patty o'connor. and allison mcroberts. and i miss how i felt before that finale aired.......

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I've said this when Oscar replaced Daniel, when Franco replaced Logan, and when Liam replaced Daniel, and I'll say it again now that it's been officially announced that Liam has the red bull seat:

Drivers are not responsible for the shitty decisions of team principals and the actual decision makers behind the scenes. Don't like the decision? That is absolutely fine, but get mad at the people who actually made the decision. Leave the driver, who took a job, alone.

You'd swear Liam was a freaking cartoon villain right now. I'm pretty sure this who y'all are describing instead of him:

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also if only the physical copy of how to disappear completely & never be found i first encountered & read a few years ago (sort of [roughly avg age ten] reader book, not any similarly titled How To) hadn't disappeared completely & not been found since, probably b/c i put it somewhere i intended to be For Safekeeping, which is also how my binder vanished....b/c it's one of those like. those book for late elementary/middle school readers when they just weave in this unrealism which makes for a delightful range & unpredicability? and with a cynical protagonist girl like off to the races like wow her mom is depressed asf & smoking? and it's about A Family History Secrets Mystery so blatantly a haunting that the inciting incident is basically introducing a haunted [family history secrets mystery] house. and spoilers don't matter like it's stemming from there being this missing uncle who grew up so in contrast to the Winsome Winning Sibling Who Does It All Right while seeing his own affiliation with rats that he tried to disappear completely & never be found which led to this Tragedy which led to this more unintended disappearance of his & he haunts this house & wants to be left alone & only goes out at night with this [ambiguous Is That A Giant Rat Or Weird Small Dog (protagonist affected by these family situations who expresses her preoccupation with an awareness of how fate can Strike and Get you with this interest with roving packs of killer chihuahuas. people think she's weird though she spontaneously befriends this other girl struck with this bolt from the blue & a bit weird / outcast & then Insightful who i wish was in it more)] & plays into the hauntedness danger like playing into the [something's Wrong with you then] until having to take yet more action where the urge to express the truth comes out more both b/c living that hidden is more threatened but also b/c now the niece children are more threatened as well. ft. a sort of preternatural blurring of time b/c of only being communicated with through this uncle via his comic pages (that he paints?) of dubiously accurate translations of irl events that are created so quickly it seems to verge on foresight, imagine like "hmm what's this painting. it's me standing in this room looking at this painting??? as someone ominous lurks in the shadows right behind me?" in both [now how could you know this & paint it really fast ahead of time] and [horror]

[clamorybus]

granted i grew up in a fairly large family (the kind where it seems like every year someone had a new baby lol) so i have a lot of experience taking care of them, but ive never understood the vitriol against kids

not wanting to be a parent, i totally understand. hating messes and screaming i get; pretty much everyone hates those. but pure hatred i do not get

[great-and-small]

Horse people are such a specific type of crazy (I know as I am one myself) because they’ve been staring at their horses for millennia with such meticulous fervor that they’ve developed a kind of weird equine phrenology where owners feel like they can predict a horse’s temperament and behavior just from the pattern of hair swirls (called whorls) on their face. Which results in absolutely unhinged diagrams like this

The craziest thing about this? It may be based in truth. There has been a decent amount of study into the connection between hair whorls and horse behavior. Many scientists theorize that because these hair patterns develop in the fetal horse at the same time as the nervous system, certain information about a horse’s behavior can be predicted by the whorls.

A 2021 article in Livestock Science explored the genetic heritability of these swirl patterns and found that a whorl on the forehead is highly influenced by genetic factors and could potentially be used to select more docile animals. Temple Grandin researched the phenomenon as well with several studies at Colorado state and made the same connection between the growth of hair whorls and the development of the horse’s brain, leading to certain manifestations of anxiety or docility. Obviously temperament in any animal is more complicated than just genetics or histology, and it would be silly to try and extrapolate a horse’s entire personality from its hair, but the connection is interesting and worth investigating all the same.

There is an ancient history to these whorls. An Indian veterinarian mentioned them in a treatise on equine medicine from the third century, and the Bedouin people (who had an extremely developed lore around whorls) used the marks to determine the price of horses prior to sale. It’s pretty cool that our modern understanding of embryology and veterinary medicine is illuminating a phenomenon that ancient people first noted and passed down through folklore.

[funnygirlthatbelle]

i suspect that a huge factor in the defense of students using gen ai (and academic dishonesty in general tbh) comes from the fundamental misunderstanding of how school works.

to simplify thousands of educator's theories into the simplest terms, there are two types of stuff you're learning in school: content and skills. content is what we often think of as the material in school- spelling, times tables, names, dates, facts, etc.- whereas skills are usually more subtle. think phonics, mental math, reading comprehension, comparing and contrasting; though students do those things often, the how usually isn't deemed as important as the what.

this leads to a disconnect that's most obvious when students ask the infamous "when will we use this in the real world?" they have- often correctly- identified content that the content is niche, outdated, or not optimized but haven't considered the skills that this class/lesson/assignment will teach.

i can think of two shining examples from when i was a kid. one was in middle school when they announced that we were now gonna be studying latin, and we all wondered why on earth they would choose latin as our foreign language. every adult promised us it'd be helpful if we went into medicine, law, or religion (ignoring that most of us didn't want to go into medicine, law, or religion), but we didn't buy that and never took it seriously. the truth was that our new principal knew that learning languages gets harder as you get older, and so building the skills of learning a language while it was easy for us was more important than which language we learned, and that's an answer twelve year old me would've actually respected.

similarly, my geometry class all hated proofs. we couldn't think of a single situation where you'd have to convince someone a triangle was a triangle and "look at it, of course it's a triangle" wouldn't be an acceptable answer. it was actually the band director who pointed out that it wasn't literally about triangles; it was about being able to prove or disprove something, anything using facts.

and so, so, so many assignments that are annoying as hell in school make more sense when you think about the skills as well as the content. "why do i have to present information about something the teacher obviously already knows about?" because research, verifying sources, summarizing, and public speaking are all really important skills. "why does this have to be a group project?" because you will have to work with other people in your life, and learning how to be a team player (and deal with people who aren't) is an essential skill. "why do we have to read these scientific articles and learn about graphs?" because if you can understand them, people can't lie to you about them.

now, of course, there's a lot we could do better- especially we as in the american school system. the reason i have an education minor but am not teaching is because of those issues. there are plenty of assignments that are busywork and teachers that are assholes and ways that the system is failing us.

but that doesn't mean you should cut off your nose to spite your face!

the ability to learn and grow and think critically is one of our most powerful tools as people. our brains are capable of incredible things! however, the same way you can't lift a car unless you consistently lift and build up to that, your brain needs to train in order to do its best.

so yeah, maybe chatgpt can write a five paragraph essay for you on the differences between thomas jefferson and alexander hamilton's governing philosophies. and maybe it won't even fuck it up! congratulations, you got away with it. but by outright refusing to use your brain and practice these skills, who have you helped? you haven't learned anything. worse, you haven't even learned how to learn.

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[cryptotheism]

The "potion-crafter" archetype of alchemist used in fantasy is often, like, an independent chemist that works off commission or sales to create fireball elixirs or exorcism salves. Is there a grain of truth, there? Did alchemists in any period you studied make a living by synthesizing magical items (like panaceas or DIY-chrysopoeia-kits or somesuch) and selling them on to any willing customer, or was that not really in their domain?

Ha! You know sometimes it can be a bit annoying answering asks like this, because most fantasy media isn t terribly interested in authentically representing history, BUT THIS TIME I can give y'all a specific and direct answer!

The archetype of the potion-crafter you're talking about almost definitely has its roots in an actual pre-paracelcian european medical profession; the Apothecary.

There were three types of doctors in the 1500s. There were diagnosticians, the people who went to school to learn about anatomy, and were allowed to call themselves "doctor." There were surgeons, the low-skilled workers who were in charge of hacking off limbs and draining bedpans. And there were apothecaries, basically the medieval equivalent of a pharmacist.

If you were a wealthy merchant, and you went to a doctor for your runny nose, he would look you over, and give you a prescription that you were supposed to take down to your local apothecary, so you could buy a potion from them.

But these prescriptions weren't exactly strict. A doctor might prescribe you an exact list of ingredients with the amounts, or he might just prescribe you "a healing ungent of cooling and drying herbs." So the apothecaries occasionally had some wiggle room based on supplies and expertise.

The important thing to remember, is that apothecaries were NOT considered magicians or alchemists.

That is, until Paracelsus came along.

See, good ol' Paracelsus was a radical innovator. He was one of the first physicians in history to be all three types of doctor at once. He was a diagnostician, a surgeon, and an apothecary. He argued that all doctors should have knowledge of their entire profession, and that no doctor was above suturing their patients wounds, and mixing their patients medicines.

He was also, crucially, an alchemist and a magician.

Alchemy was the cutting edge of technology for the time, a practice regarded with equal parts awe and suspicion, but it was more the realm of glassblowers and metallurgists than doctors or botanists. Paracelsus disagreed. He argued that if it's part of God's creation, it should be used to heal the human body.

This extended to magic. Paracelsus figured that you had to factor in things like "the movement of the planets and their influence on the earth." And he was known for prescribing patients things like "astral talismans to be worn about the neck." A practice that, even for his time, was often seen as backwards and superstitious. (Although given how harmful medieval medicine was, the astral talismans might have been your best option sometimes.)

Paracelsus was a radical. People fucking hated him, especially when he was alive. But his ideas were extremely influential, and exploded in popularity after his death in 1541. I can confidently say that the fantasy archetype of the Potion Brewer is based on Paracelcian physicians, the doctor/alchemist/apothecary/magicians who followed his theories.

Here I'll link my Patreon if y'all wanna support my research! I have a whole section on Paracelsus.

[spidermanifested]

okay ive got to get this post out before april fools day so everyone knows this is important and serious information. i believe ive solved a mystery that i might have been the only person on earth who ever cared about and im taking you with me on this journey

For the uninitiated (aka people who have never looked at my blog in their whole life). there is this character called bido from fullmetal alchemist. hes greeds friend and goon and he shows up in like 5 chapters. he looks like this

and if youve never seen him before you are going to be baffled to find out that a large percentage of people who even bother remembering him seem to genuinely believe that he is a young child. and this goes beyond your regular fandom infantilization. i have had people comment on my very own posts, telling me "but wait, i thought bido was a kid".

for years i did not know how this misconception was even possible (look at him), let alone get so widespread, but that might be because the chiefest example of it exists... in the scanlation thats up on most "read free manga" websites. Aka; the one most people these days are reading. perhaps this is the mother of all other bido-child-takes. we may not ever know.

but either way, that scanlation team apparently decided at some point in their workflow, that not ONLY was bido a kid, but it made sense to have an ACTUAL kid* (*15-year-old) call him one. which at that point just feels like rubbing salt in the wound like come on

anyway the first time i checked the original dialogue to compare, i didnt know much japanese, but i was still pretty confident there was zero basis for the mistranslation. this scenes official translation makes no reference to bidos age, and aside from the obvious factor of "are you fucking serious just look at him", there was an ACTUAL reference to his age in the japanese dialogue of an earlier chapter; alphonse calls him "ojisan". which... surely the scanlation team would have seen. if they were translating the manga. but i guess it would be easy to forget a chapter you read that long ago if you arent similarly enamored of every detail regarding one of the least present background characters

Still. it seems like such a weird and out of nowhere choice to make and there didnt seem to be any reason for it. even replacing dialogue with lord of the rings quotes has a clear and almost understandable motivation (hubristically riding the coattails of sam and frodos legendary romance). so WHY did they just suddenly up and decide this bald middle aged man was some kind of precocious Crime Baby.

well in the past couple years i have learned a little bit more japanese. & since last night i think i have found the answer.

heres the original dialogue again, and then here it is simplified for one of the official video games.

"ビドーとやらが言ってた事も", aka, "and the stuff we heard bido say".

"言ってた事も", pronounced "いってたことも", aka "itteta koto mo".

Except. if you arent reading too closely, or your image quality sucks, and you mistake the と (to) for a ど (do).

言ってたこども*..............

*translators note: koto mo means "and stuff". kodomo means child.

i cannot stress this enough. the kanji for "koto" is right there on the page. this mistake would only happen if somebody was ONLY looking at the furigana and not even doing a good job of that. how did they get it this wrong. how did nobody second guess it. i know that scanlators are mostly a bunch of hobbyists trying their best and i do not mean to disparage them as a collective. its just , that i think these specific ones should maybe be pelted with an assortment of overripe fruits for a little while, for giving me this hyperspecific grievance to suffer.

At least maybe now that ive solved the riddle the truth will prevail in time. tell your friends, or something

[postmoe]

x You're My Antonym x

Yandere Alhaitham x Reader x Yandere Anaxagoras

no because this was supposed to be a 900 word one shot idea but now it's like 10,000. not really proof read.

power-play, unprofessional behaviour, teacher and student, fem reader, non-con, belittling, coercion

I used this for the interaction where Alhaitham is helping you with practicing your oral.

.

Most people leave the classes by the second term, there's a few reasons that build up over time but, if you asked any of the students who leave it can be narrowed down to one common factor: the teachers.

Alhaitham, the professor of Haravatat. He makes it known that he doesn't want to be here, even though he could leave any time. He says it's up to the students if they want to succeed, only pushing them to show basic etiquette in class. However, his nihilistic nature and harsh grading turns a lot of people away. He's not all that bad, though, he's even stayed behind when you've come after class to ask him questions. Don't even try to bring up work when he's out of the classroom, though.

Anaxagoras, the professor of Nousporist. He is a lot stricter than Alhaitham, and when in the classroom follows closely to the rule, 'Silence is Golden'. You get one warning before you're thrown out of the classroom. This man will question everything, even the philosophy students get fed up with him. Unless you provide 100% evidence, then your argument is void.

You're powering through their courses with a rigorous determination. Haravatat, the study of semiotics, taking sign systems from history to determine anything from anthropological to logical and sociological dimensions. You can piece together the very interesting discovery of ancient human civilisation! Nousporist is a perfect partner to this course, focusing more on experiments and research, seeking to uncover fundamental truths about life and existence through scrupulous scientific inquiry. You can even decipher the world of the Gods!

But holy shit, are you exhausted. You work a late-night shift at a 24/7 convenience store, only to come to school and study your brain to mush with little time to relax. It's an exhausting life, but you think about how it'll all be worth it once you graduate.

When it comes to these classes, you know your grades aren't the highest, perhaps only slightly above average on a good day. So, you rely on being an ideal student in the classroom, getting on the professor's good side by staying out of their way and only participating when necessary.

Except today, you seem to be a little... "Haah," your little squeak of a yawn has everyone looking back at you from your spot in the middle. You didn't mean to, you tried to make it silent. With am apprehensive look, you meet your gaze with a nonchalant Anaxagoras and quietly whisper, "'M sorry."

He seems to think over a response to you, deciding in the end to go back to teaching, probably because you never make a disturbance. You do your best to listen, shaking your head whenever the visage of the whiteboard starts to blur. As you feel your mind drifting off, your arm falling to the desk as it can no longer support your head, you think about how nice Professor Anaxagoras' voice really is. Like an asmr lulling you to sleep.

It doesn't help that his class was at the end of the day, when your exhaustion hits its peak. By the time you open your eyes you notice the low light of the setting sun. Confused, you sit up, your mouth dry and your hair fuzzy. No other students are in the room, leaving you alone with your professor.

At you rising, he gives you some time to collect your bearings before placing his pen down from marking papers, regarding you, "Finally awake, I see. Funny, I didn't think you of all people found my class boring."

Desperately, you lick your lips to dispel any dryness you could, "N-No! I love your class, Professor Anaxagoras, I'm super, extremely, exceedingly sorry!!"

He tilts his head to the side, the default line of his mouth tilting downwards slightly, "I was joking. I've noticed for the past few weeks that you've been getting more and more tired. Is everything okay? Even Alhaitham has expressed his concerns to me, wondering if I was the one putting you through such stress, the lout."

"I wouldn't say lout," a familiar and similarly cool voice speaks from the doorway, "Aggression isn't my usual problem solver."

"Oh? Then perhaps something like 'insipid' or 'sanctimonious' is a better fit."

Alhaitham huffs out the bare minimum of a laugh, "I believe 'sanctimonious' would be better suited to you, Professor Anaxa."

"Anaxagoras."

He turns his attention to you now, walking to the edge of the steps leading up the rows of seats, stopping and crossing his arms over his broad chest, "You've been spacing out more often, and the bags under your eyes are deeper. What's got you so stressed? Is it the covering material?"

Your cheeks gently blossom at being called out, your body shifting in your seat as you avoid eye contact. To have both of your professors worried about you sends a wave of admiration through your heart. Not only are they great (albeit firm) teachers, but, they also care for their students. "I'm really sorry if I've disturbed both of you. I've had to pick up more shifts at work because my rent is increasing so, I haven't had much time to rest."

"You don't live on campus?" Anaxagoras inquires, raising his eyebrow in question.

You shake your head, "I could only afford the starter tuition fees, not the campus bundle. I live in an apartment with cheaper rent. Even as it's going up, it's still below what they charge here."

Alhaitham nods in understanding, "This is one of the most expensive schools, even with government help."

"Yeah, but, I know that's not an excuse. I'll try harder, I promise," you say, gathering your things and packing them in your bag. As you step down to Alhaitham, you pull out a few pieces of paper and hand it to him, "Here are the picture comparisons I got from the museum, Professor."

With that, you leave the room, Anaxa already at Alhaitham's shoulder and peering at the documents. It was you at the Ancient Cultural Museum, comparing your body to humans of the past. You were wearing revealing clothing to get the best out of the angles.

Your thighs squeezed into tight shorts, collating the length of your legs to those of homo floresiensis. Another picture of you with one arm stretched, belly showing in your flimsy singlet, between gigantopithecus blacki and King Kong at 7.6 metres.

Anaxa hums lowly, standing back to eye him, "That's not very professional."

Alhaitham agrees, "I know. It seems more of an 'entertainment show' than a proper museum."

The other professor rolls his eyes, walking back to his desk, "You know what I am talking about. If the directors found out then you'd be in more trouble than just expulsion from the akademia."

He crosses his broad arms over his chest, papers carefully held between his fingers and thumb, "Aren't you a director?"

"You don't seem so worried about me saying anything."

"Please, I know you favour her as well. I'm not the only creep here."

At this, Anaxa smiles snidely, "Ah, well, then my ultimatum won't be so shocking. As long as you're willing to share your favourite student's 'private' homework, then I'm more than happy to keep this on the - how is it? - DL."

"Pfft," he looks down to one of the pictures, your foot side-by-side to the re-imagined soles of a slave from Ancient Egypt. Next to it, your pretty-painted toes idly sit by chipped nails. Did you paint your toes just for this photoshoot? Cute girl. "Would you like to take pictures now or shall I photocopy them at home?"

...

You didn't think your grades were that bad... Over the past couple of weeks, both Professor Anaxagoras and Professor Alhaitham have been wanting to keep you after class to help you catch up, even offering to invite you into their homes during the days they weren't working.

It seems you should have taken up on their offers as you review over your marks from the most recent short exam. Most of the students around you were already groaning, but, you usually at least make it slightly above average. This is a fail by all means.

You make eye contact with your professor and immediately look away. You can already tell Anaxa will want to see you after class, you don't need to acknowledge it right now. With a sigh, you check the time, seeing it's two more minutes until the end of class, and thirty minutes before you start your shift.

As soon as the clock ticks, he dismisses everyone. You obediently wait until everyone leaves before making your way to the front. He has his arms crossed, looking down on you like the peasant you are. You think he's going to be mad, instead, he only sighs like a let-down parent, "I thought you said you were going to be better."

There's nothing else you can say that's not repeating what you've already told him, so you stick with a non-committed, "I'm sorry."

"If you were truly sorry then you'd be taking up my offer to personally help you."

"I can't miss work," you say, exhausted from both the excessive hours and constant arguments with not one, but two, of your teachers. Your eyes shift to the clock above him, "In fact, I have to go-"

Heavy footsteps come through the door, a purposeful interruption made by Alhaitham. He takes his place beside you, his hand coming to your shoulder and squeezing, "You're going to call in sick, your grades depend on it."

You furrow your eyebrows, mouth opening to interject but Anaxa won't let you, "I agree. Any costs lost will be made up for by myself and Mr. Alhaitham here."

A sputtering sound passes your lips before you can say, "No?? I can't just do that-"

"As long as we don't tell anyone then I don't see why not," Anaxa says, somewhat smug, "I am one of the directors, after all, it's a lot easier for me to hide things."

You look to Alhaitham, "You could lose your job."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Well, no-"

"Perfect, let's go to Mr. Anaxa's-"

"Anaxagoras."

"- house and get dinner on the way."

He takes your bag for you, the two of them walking towards the door and ignoring any more protests from you. Anaxa brushes back his ponytail, "Of course it's my house. Why, is yours not good enough?"

"Yours is bigger," Alhaitham shrugs, "At least, wasn't that your argument?"

"I suppose," he acknowledges, and it occurs to you that they've been conniving with themselves about this without your awareness.

It then hits you that you have heard rumours about his 'home' and were sure they were true, "Don't you live on campus?"

He turns his head over his shoulder and smirks, "For those long nights of research, I do have quite the homely office. However, I also own a comfortable space elsewhere."

...

Your boss sent you a frowny face text before accepting your sudden timetable shift. 'A mean case of gastro; couldn't even sit through class.'

Chinese was a tasty and easy take away dinner, getting lots of different boxes to share between the three of you. Then, you started heading into the main city, the bright lights a treat for your eyes as your usual apartment was shadowed by night with only a flickering lamp outside.

You drive into an underground car park, following diligently as you pile into a spacious elevator. He presses a number that says '74' and swipes a key card, your heart beats wilder at the prospect of a beautiful, night view.

Higher and higher you climb, until the doors open to a high-ceiling, expansive apartment. Alhaitham and Anaxa make their way to the lounge room area, placing their books and bags on a large, round, low table between the couch and the tv. From the table, Anaxa picks up a remote, and instead of pointing it to the television like you assumed, he pushes a button and the darkness of the windows seem to panel into a clear view of the city lights.

You walk over in awe, mouth agape, dinner hanging from your hands and forgotten about as you stare into the distance. Few buildings rivalled the height you were on, the entire city on display for your eyes alone. It felt surreal to be so high, so above everyone. Looking down, you saw specks of cars and people, none the wiser to your presence.

It's only when the bags are taken do you look away. Anaxa has slipped the handles over his fingers, while Alhaitham rummages the kitchen for cutlery and plates. You watch them work together, "Have you been here before, Professor Alhaitham?"

He returns with stacked plates and an arrangement of cutlery, setting them down and shaking his head, "No, I haven't."

Anaxa huffs, taking a seat on the floor, "Oh, really? I couldn't tell with how easily you made yourself at home."

Sitting opposite him, Alhaitham returns, "I'm just trying to help. Don't worry, I'll let you do all the washing up."

Feeling a little awkward, you sit at what could be considered the 'end' of the circular table, between your two professors. You take out the most recent material, opening your books and pencil case, preparing any text books, all while they serve up piles of food onto plates.

. You've barely touched your dinner, your head hurting as you go over the highlighted material in the book. "A-Are you sure we spoke about this in class? I was sure we left on page 107."

Alhaitham covers the words with his palm, making you take a break from the confusing sentences and looking up at him. Instantly, your head feels less strained from staring so long at the bright, white pages. He waits until you relax your shoulders, "We finished on 117. You just fell asleep at 107."

On the other side of you, Anaxa is going over your notes, circling the more important information and adding comments of his own. You hear him sigh and cross out something entirely, shifting your eyes to see a whole paragraph angrily scribbled out. He mutters, "When did I ever say this? Now you're making things up."

Your pencil drops from your fingers as you gape at him, "No???" You look closer to see what he was talking about, "We did talk about it, you were bringing up something that was like 'Nature's Endless Experiment', I remember those words."

Alhaitham raised his hand, "That was my class, it was a small off-topic discussion."

A long groan is all that comes from you, your forehead hitting the table as you collapse. You don't move when you feel them moving away the excessive books and pens you've littered the area with, opting to just rest your weary mind.

You tilt your head and grab your fork, poking at the rice and mumbling, "Why are you even having off-topic discussions? Don't you hate going over time..."

You squint when he juts a finger to your forehead, "Don't blame others for your mistakes."

Anaxa clears his throat, leaning back and closing his eye as he relaxes, "I think we have done enough tonight. You're at least up to date with the current material so you should be good for class again on Monday."

"Thank you so much," you say, taking a mouthful of food, "I really appreciate this, you're both the best professors ever. Could I please get the address so I can figure out a way home?"

You whimper when Professor Anaxagoras taps you on the head with the end of a wooden ruler, "Do not talk with your mouth full. Do I have to teach you basic life skills on top of everything else?"

Alhaitham scoots closer, taking the fork from your hand and impaling a soy-soaked bean before placing it to your lips, "At this point we may as well adopt you."

You bite the bean and yank your head away, eating the vegetable, "I am an adult, you know."

"Could've fooled me." They both say, at the same time, their monotonous tones making you feel like you've just stepped into an alternate reality.

Rolling your eyes, you take the fork back before your professor can get any more food on it, "So, about me getting home-"

Anaxa cuts in, standing up and taking his plate to the kitchen, "It's fine, you can stay here tonight."

"What? No, I can't do that," you gasp, eyeing him to see if this was another one of his 'jokes'.

He rinses the plate and then puts it in the dishwasher, "Do you have prior obligations at home? A pet, perhaps."

You snort, "As if I could afford that."

"Then I don't see the issue," he states, leaning against the island counter and folding his arms, "I'll get your bedroom sorted. We can study again tomorrow."

Incredulously, you look to Alhaitham, "Can you please talk some sense into him?"

He shrugs once again, lazily looking over to him, "I don't see an issue. Comfortable bed, good sleep. You could use the rest."

"I have to work tomorrow."

Of course, Anaxa has an excuse for that, "Gastro symptoms can last up to 72 hours. Just tell them you're still not well."

"But-"

"I'd just do as he says," Alhaitham starts collecting the rest of your stationary and packs it all away, placing the bag beside you, "Wouldn't you rather finally have a moment to sleep in and rejuvenate?"

It really does sound nice... Not having to set an alarm, to have a shower that runs just hot water and not switching to cold every other minute. You wonder how soft the sheets are, and maybe, just maybe, he has a mattress cover for extra comfort?

Finally, you relent, shoulders sagging, "I guess... If you're okay with it- ouch!"

Anaxa had made his way over during your consideration, now flicking you in the forehead and gazing down in annoyance, "I wouldn't have pushed it if I wasn't sure."

Rubbing your now sore spot, you look to Alhaitham and ask, "Are you staying, too?"

He shakes his head, "No, I have to get home. I'll come back tomorrow with lunch, I doubt Professor Anaxa has any food here."

"Just non-perishables," he replies, eye twitching at the disrespect from his colleague, "Now, get out of my house."

As he stands, he places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair, "At least he nice with you. See you tomorrow."

You bid your goodbyes, watching as he leaves down the elevator. Anaxa collects the remaining dishes, and you move to help but he stops you, "It's fine, you finish up. He's just too lazy to do anything."

It's all too easy to oblige, now that you weren't focused on studying anymore, your stomach has the stage for attention. As you consume your meal, you wonder to their likeness and how familiar they are with each other, "Are you and Professor Alhaitham good friends, Professor Anaxagoras?"

He huffs at the thought, returning with a fresh glass of water for you both and sitting down, "Our courses align somewhat and we're in the same wing. We've only really started talking more since you've been involved."

There's a happy feeling to think you might be the reason for a blooming friendship. You hold your head up proudly, "Maybe me being bad right now isn't such a bad thing? Once I leave, you guys might be besties!"

You watch his eyes lower to the table, mouth quirking downwards. It's only a moment later that he replies over the rim of his cup, "I highly doubt it. Neither of us have much of a reason to interact."

It's not something you push, if it happens it happens, and if not well, no skin off your back.

The shower is absolutely divine, the pressure perfect and the steam filling up the bathroom before being sent to through the vent was much nicer than being suffocated in your tiny apartment; you could only shower with the door open to let it out. Your professor generously lends you a shirt to wear to bed, the material certainly something fancy and comfortable. Ugh, don't even get you started on the bed, the king-sized mattress giving you ample room to roll about and the pillows delightfully suffocating you.

You were so comfortable from the night that you didn't wake up until you heard the murmurs of Alhaitham in the home. Sleepily and clumsily, you rush out of the room to show that you're awake, feeling bad for sleeping in so late. Your hair is a messy, you know that, fingers tearing away the worst of the knots. You don't focus on your exposed legs, the cheeks of your arse hanging out, you just wipe the sleep from your eyes and stare at them blearily.

They go silent, letting you apologise, calming your anxiety. You needed the rest, they don't mind. With a smile, you tell them you're going to get dressed and brush your teeth, leaving the two men alone.

As they look to each other, Anaxa smiles and holds his hands out innocently, "I didn't have any larger shirts."

It's not true, they both know that. Alhaitham replies honestly, "I'm not complaining."

...

"Do I have to stand here like this?" You ask, frowning at the uncomfortable feeling of being on display before your professor. Alhaitham was sitting nonchalantly on the chair, leaning back with his legs crossed and one arm over the backrest, holding a copy of your oral.

Both of your professors have said that dressing nicer would help with confidence and motivation. They also made an offhanded comment about seeing you something in an outfit more girly, as it would be such a difference. You decided to give it a shot, the cute, ruffled skirt and white blouse had heads turning, probably because you normally go for comfort when it comes to studying.

You were so close that the tip of his shoe is lightly grazing the underside of your skirt. He raises an eyebrow, silently questioning what you meant. You shift again, holding your papers tighter, "When we're presenting, we're not normally this close and..." and you think he can see up your skirt if he gets any lower on the chair.

Alhaitham holds his hand out as if providing evidence, "I have to make it uneasy somehow. Presenting to an entire room is one thing, in front of me alone is hardly scary. By providing such close proximity, it makes your overthink. It's also working."

"R-Right," you bring the papers back to your front, ignoring the way his gentle kicking was moving your clothes. You take a deep breath continue, "In more simple terms, we can look to smoke as an example-"

"-Eye contact," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him, "You will lose points if you stare down the whole time."

Gods, this really is embarrassing. You make sure to only look at your paper sparingly, "Smoke is the written word, an utterance, for a sign of fire. Though looking into the object, it is best thought as whatever is being signified, the object to which the written word is attached to - the fire being indicated by the smoke. Then, there's the interpretant, wAh!"

You step back suddenly, face red as you use one hand to hold your skirt down. He had suddenly kicked hard, your skirt flying up and showing off your girly panties with a tiny bow on the front. "Not that I'm one to talk, but, your monologuing is dragging on."

He's not going to acknowledge that? Is he embarrassed too? Apparently not since he reaches forward and tugs you so that your standing with one of his knees between your thighs. Your eyes shift to the doors, half expecting it to fling open, "Wh-what're you doing...?"

"Spicing things up. How am I meant to grade you if I'm falling asleep through the whole thing? Keep talking."

The lump in your throat is swallowed down. Your hands start to shake a bit at the way his thumbs slowly circle the jut of your hips. "The inerp-interpretant - haa, w-wait!"

You're cut off by his knees rolling up and into your pussy, igniting a throbbing in your clit at the motion. His grip is tight, you can't step away. You think to yell but how humiliating would it be to have someone walk in on the teacher's pet being tended to by their admired professor. The grip on your hips is also painful, would he hurt you more if you made a sound?

He's so focused on rolling his knee into you that he isn't even looking at your face. You tentatively reach out, tapping his shoulder, "P-Professor, this is really inappropriate."

Now, he darts his eyes to yours, tilting his head to the side, "Oh? You come to my classroom wearing a skirt so small, and now it's inappropriate?"

Your cheeks redden at him turning it on you and you tug at the bottom to try and cover more of your skin, which only drags his attention back to your plump thighs and what's in between, "The lady at the store said this was super girly. You and Professor Anaxagoras said- Ah!"

His large palm had slapped against your left butt cheek, fingers grabbing moulding your flesh beneath the skirt, "What have we said about pushing the blame onto others? In the end of the day, you chose to comply." Alhaitham leans in, inhaling your scent, the light and sweet perfume you had sprayed so many hours before, "And what a good girl you are for doing so."

You squeal as he pushes you to your knees, his foot pressing against your crotch and one of his hands gathering up what he can of your hair and holding you in place. Scared, doe-like eyes gaze up at him, your papers crinkled in your hands, "I don't understand..." He's never acted like this, he was always so kind and helping towards you.

Dread fills you when he starts to grope his growing cock, he watches your expression with an intense interest, "I think... we can change the parameters of your oral since you're struggling so much. Why don't we try something more practical?"

Trying to keep your composure, you flatten the papers beneath you as you witness him manoeuvre his pants to free his cock. It springs forth and your breathing goes faster, tears finally collecting in your eyes, begging to be let go, "I-I don't know how to do this, either."

Surely he sees how distraught you are. Surely he relents at your naivete over this.

He doesn't.

He brings you forwards and pushes your cheek against the hot skin of his cock. Alhaitham smiles down at you, a wicked glint in his eyes, "Is that so? Well, luckily you have your favourite professor here to teach you." His legs spread a little wider, allowing more room for your head to rest in the groove of his thigh and dick, "Let's start by giving it some gentle kisses. Just like you would a lover."

Are you really going to do this? What else can you do, though, he has you by a stronghold. When he pushes you against his shaft, you finally comply, though you barely pucker your lips. It was more of a pathetic touch, eyes averted to the side since closing them only stains the picture of his member in your mind.

"Hmm, I won't be too harsh since it's your first time. Why don't we try with your tongue out? Lick it, melt the outside with your saliva, soften it up so you can swallow it good," he orders, holding the side steady so you can lick him easier.

He moves your head by your hair, forcing you to move your tongue up and down the length. You groan in disgust when he makes you pay attention to the head, his precum that had pearled on the top now spreading on your taste buds. At your little noise, he pushes the toes of his shoe against your sex, still clothed, and moves it slowly in an up-down motion.

A low whistle leaves him at your defiant gaze, mouth blocked by the tip of his cock, eyes glaring up. "I'm more into obedient students but," he pauses to lick his lips, "I don't mind this side of you either."

Alhaitham allows you to pull away, gasping for a breath of fresh air and not one that's tainted by the heady smell of his cock. You push against the edge of the seat but he won't let you go farther, yanking you back into submission. More tears now stream down your face, angry and hurt, "Please, I don't want to do this anymore."

Now masturbating in front of you, he hums a little sigh of pleasure, "Don't you know the saying? 'The bell doesn't release you, I do'. You don't get to leave my classroom until I say you can." You cry as his hand releases your hair and slips his fingers through the strands, now holding the back of your head still so he can angle his cock to your lips, "If you bite me, I'll get you pregnant."

The shock of his threat is enough to keep you incapacitated until he reaches the back of your throat. Immediately, you hold his thighs tight, fingers digging into his pants while he moves your fair from your face so he can get a better visage of you choking on his cock. You make pitiable gagging sounds, feeling his long dick slide back and forth on your tongue, the muscle having no idea what to do as pulling back choked your more but laying flat made you taste him worse.

"Fffuuck," he hisses, and it's the first time you've heard him swear. The schlicking sound of his cock in your mouth was so loud, such a turn on for him. You're whining from the ache of his girth after a while, coughing whenever he gave you the mildest of breaks. He would switch it up sometimes, aiming for the inside of your cheek just so he could watch the bulge of his penis in your mouth, saliva and precum pouring from your lips like the fountain of a whore. Back down to the back of your throat he goes, holding there until your flailing stilled, visage going white at the edges. A second later and he pulls out once more, gently caressing your cheeks and squishing them as he coos, "Good fucking girl. Better at using your head for this than study. This is the last stretch."

It hurt your heart to hear that, even from the man who is assaulting you now. You've spent so much time, money, effort, and so much more on trying to be the best you can. All of it was worth something, and now, it feels like it's reduced to nothing. Being told by your professor who had been teaching you for the better part of a year... You're past your refund date.

He's moving with an animalistic jolt of his hips, hardly separating from your mouth. His breathing is harder, faster, matching the pace he uses in your throat. You're scrunching your eyes shut, holding your breath, ignoring the way his hand won't stop patting back your hair until he's cumming load after load down your restricting throat. Alhaitham makes sure to burn this memory into his retina, thumb wiping at the tears in the corner of your eye, "Good girl... Good girl, (Y/n). Swallow it, for your professor."

You can't contain it all, the remnants of his semen dripping from your mouth as it comes back up. When he eventually removes his softening cock from your mouth, you retch and couch what little you couldn't swallow. Alhaitham is kind enough to offer his water bottle, and you're not proud enough to say no.

Except, as you reach for the plastic, he suddenly pulls away and grabs your wrist. The bottle is between his knees so he can hold you tenderly, kissing you with a lustful passion. It's only when he pulls away does he give you the water bottle.

You're too busy to even think about what he's doing, kneeling in a puddle of the mess created, letting the water flow down your front. The tinkering of metal is heard, you think he's doing up his pants.

You're wrong.

Once you finally finish the bottle, he leaves you no time to react and pulls your arms behind your back, securing the with his belt. If there's one thing you couldn't say about Alhaitham, it's that he's unfit. The man trains, and you suppose for someone who has had to track the desert and tackle forests for his job, you'd have to have a good physique. Struggling is useless, you only gasp in confusion and exhaustion, "W-Wait, what are you doing? I did what you wanted!"

His face is back to it's nonchalant self, cheeks showing minimal sign of the event that just occurred. You watch in horror as he undoes his green necktie, slipping it over his head before properly untying it, "I got a good idea of how you perform an oral. Now, it's my time. How are you going to learn if your professor doesn't demonstrate?"

"Hold on!" You kick, his arms hooking under your knees and lifting you up to carry you to his desk. Once he's laid you upon it, he yanks you forward so he can makeshift the tie into a gag for you. You shake your head in any direction, "No, stop! I don't want that-"

Of course, you wouldn't get what you wanted. It's secure enough, your arms successfully restrained. His desk chair is a lot nicer, bigger, comfier, and higher. When he sits, he's at the perfect height to drape your legs over his shoulders and breathe on your dampened panties. You make eye contact with him, unable to kick him effectively to stop, pleading with your eyes despite it being no use earlier.

He gives you a poor attempt at a smile, slipping your pretty, bow adorned panties down your legs, ducking under them and plucking them from your ankle. Your professor makes a show of pocketing them for later. The way his eyes devour the sight of your pussy has you cringing in on yourself, always been self-conscious of this intimate part of you.

Alhaitham seems to have a different opinion, no look of disgust, only impatient desire. "So beautiful, so natural," he moans into your thigh, kissing you tenderly before licking a hot, long stripe from your small taint, over your labia, across your clit and the top of your slit. It felt surreal, your cunny clenching in unwanted desire.

Fractured moans and sounds slip past the gag, fingers clenching and releasing with every jolt of stimulation. You wonder if he's practiced before, watched a tutorial, or if you're just that uncultured that this feels too good to be happening on your poor slit. His tongue is slow and savouring, lightly entering your hole before twirling back and around the outside of your lips. One of his hands, that have been holding your thighs tightly to his head, move to gently tickle the entrance of your vagina so he can focus on suckling and playing with your budding clit.

You're so dazed, eyes blearily looking to the high ceiling as you have nothing else to focus on but the delightful tingle in your belly. A heavy breath comes from Alhaitham, the man gazing you with heavy, lidded eyes to see your expression. Drool and cum still trickle from the corner of your lips, a drying trail down your collar bone and staining your blouse. His other hand is moving to his cock now, the slow, clicking sound making you lazily move your eyes to see what he was up to now. He smiles at you, kissing your engorged sex, "Truly a masterpiece to be studied. I could draw these wonderful sounds out of you all day."

His hand and mouth switch up, his thumb now taking your slick clit and swiping over it in ever-changing movements. Now, his mouth was back to making out with your labia, tongue swirling at the opening of your pussy and stimulating barely a centimetre in your walls. It's a teasing motion that feels gratifying when he delves his tongue deeper and harder into you. You moan lengthily, arching your hips into his mouth and fingers. He waits, teasing you again, only pushing into your clit when his tongue makes for that intrusive movement. He only does it a few more times until he's open mouth tongue-fucking you through your climax, pussy gripping him and hips suffocating him as tears streak down your face from the pleasure.

It was too much, too good, too stressful to even think about as you ride out your orgasm on your professor's face. He's in no hurry to leave you, taking his time to lap up your creamy ejaculate, hand hitting harder against his navel until he's pulling back, standing, and cumming all over your wet and exposed cunt, watching your body jerk from the sudden hit of fluid on your sensitive parts, even getting on your skirt and blouse. You're still teary eyes and vulnerable when he takes out his phone to snap a few pictures, hand slowly easing his cock down, "I've never seen anything so beautiful. You'll be fine if I keep these for me, right?"

You don't make a move to acknowledge him, 'letting' him take photos isn't the right, though you weren't making an effort to roll off the table either. Once he's done, he lifts you up, sitting on the desk and holding you with his arm steady around your back. He's showing you something on his phone; the pictures he just snapped.

A low chuckle comes from him when you move your head to the side to not see them, eyes slamming shut. He does something, and then the next time you open your eyes, there's a chat with Professor Anaxa and your photos in the message bubble, waiting to be sent. Wide eyes look to Alhaitham, shaking your head erratically. He hums in thought, "Then you'll be good, right? You wouldn't want such a renowned man to know what you look like defiled and sex-satisfied. Get what I'm saying?"

Of course, you nod. It already feel painful to have one person you looked up to do this, you don't want to extend that disgust onto someone else, especially your Nousporist professor. To have to look him in the eye after knowing he knows what your lower half looks like, what your post-orgasm face looks like, what you being covered in cum looks like.

"Perfect," he puts his phone in his pocket and unties the gag in your mouth, spittle and drool trailing away as he pulls it out. Next, he unlatches the belt and replaces it back around his waist. You sit quietly on the desk, letting him do what he needs to do, clean up the mess you both created, feed you water because even if you could take it yourself, you wouldn't. He swings your bag over his shoulder and loops his arm through yours, "Let's get you home, I'll drive you."

It's silent, save for the humming of the vehicle, he doesn't even turn the radio on but you're savouring the silence. You don't want to hear songs about sex, or rock 'n roll, or love stories, you just want to watch the sun set and the street lights turn on in the quiet of your mind.

Alhaitham pulls up the gutter of your apartment, reaching to place your bag in your lap and patting your hair, "Get a good sleep. We can talk more about your passing grades another day."

You could lash out at him, scream and shout and then run into your home and lock the door. Maybe throw a punch or two. Ah, but that would also be considered being bad, probably, and then those pictures go everywhere and... You're too exhausted to do anything anyway. You just unclip your belt and leave.

After spending a lot of time at Professor Anaxa's house, using hot water and getting a good diet, you really do lament the times you go home. Especially now, when you wish for scalding hot water and all you can sit in is the shitty pressure of 'just warm'. Well, you do like the smallness of it all, little spaces where you can curl up and pretend you don't exist.

...

4 days pass where you've been sick and away from classes. Funnily enough, Alhaitham hasn't tried to get your attention. There have, however, been a few attempts to reach out from Professor Anaxagoras. You sent a professional email detailing you weren't well, only missing one day where you couldn't be bothered to bring up the email tab and copy your message.

He texts you again today, and you finally eat something more than the crust of bread. You're nibbling some biscuit you had in the cupboard when your phone vibrates:

Professor Anaxagoras: Are you free today? You should come over. If you're sick, it's fine, I don't mind risking my health.

Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be bad to see him. You could talk to him, and maybe you'll feel better having someone you trust to be around, maybe you'll confess everything and ask for advice, maybe you'll have a breakdown- maybe, maybe maybe maybe maybe:

Professor Anaxagoras: (Y/n), what's going on?

Okay. You trust him, he's been a great mentor to you, and you need to shower and get out of the house. Besides, this biscuits are stale. You reply:

You: Good morning, Professor Anaxagoras. Will it be just us there?

He replies immediately:

Professor Anaxagoras: Yes, just you and I. Would you like me to invite Professor Alhaitham?

You: No... I'd prefer it to be just us, thanks.

Professor Anaxagoras: Shall I pick you up in half an hour?

You: That would be helpful, thank you.

He gives you a time and you react to it, leaving your position leaning on the counter and making your way to the bathroom. You really need to scrub the dead skin off your body, you should feel better once you get dressed and ready.

. The car ride today was a lot nicer than the previous one, specifically because it wasn't with your abuser. But, also, being in the sun and having the radio on low, Professor Anaxa absentmindedly telling you about classes and some of the students being ridiculously stupid. He relaxes his shoulders when you crack a smile.

It must be obvious you're not sick. You look sickly, sure, but that goes without saying when you spend four days lying in the same position without food or sunlight. You wish you could've found your lip balm before you left, cracked lips dry from dehydration.

Stepping into his apartment is like a breath of fresh air. It's bright, clean, open, and you feel like you can breathe again. Things fall into place like your study days, slipping your shoes off at the door, bringing your bag to the low, lounge room table, and then awkwardly standing there until he tells you what to do next.

Today, he brings over a cup of water for you both and motions for you to take a seat on the couch. You do, Anaxa sitting beside you with just enough space so he can have his body turned to you. He holds the glass with two hands, looking to the water in deep thought before finally making eye contact, "I must admit, my main reason for bringing you here is because I am worried about your absence. At first I thought perhaps your illness wasn't being taken care of properly. However, when you asked for it to be just us... Has something happened between you and Alhaitham?"

Ah, he's so smart. Of course he is, he's one of the smartest people in the world. No one leaves for four days, not after all the hard work you've been putting into this, and then asks to be alone out of the blue; especially since it was obvious you admired both of your professors equally.

Admired, being the key word.

But Professor Anaxa here would be different than the Professor Anaxa you had in your head on the day of the incident. At that time, you could only think of him looking down on you, seeing you as less of a scholar and more of a common whore. You didn't dress girly today, aiming for comfortable pants, a t-shirt and a jumper for the comfort of the long sleeves. Telling him will be okay, he won't think you're asking for attention. You can't make eye contact now, so you relent with looking at a frayed strand on the cushion of the couch, "Has Alhaitham said anything to you?"

He lets out an airy laugh, "No prefix to his name? My, it must be bad. No, I haven't heard much from him, only that he received the same email as I."

You nod to that, not surprised that he wouldn't own up to such a thing, which only proves how much worse it is since he knows it's just that bad. "Well, five days ago, he offered to help me practice my oral skills..."

Anaxa waits patiently for you say your piece, and you only make it to the skirt flip from his foot before you suddenly hiccup from sudden tears. You didn't even think you were about to cry, it was so random that you were surprised. He stands then, making his way to the kitchen, "I think this is a conversation best had over a warm drink. What would you like, sweetheart?"

It is nicer to cradle something warm as you explain stuff. You find it difficult to go into detail, briefing a lot of it to 'his foot pressed here' and 'he kissed me with tongue'. He went down on you, masturbated and *insert a hand flick here* on you, he forced you to use your mouth on him. It was out of whack, but it made sense, you got what you wanted out.

By the end of it, your speech was slow and your eyes were tired from crying. He pulls you in to lean your head on his shoulder, caressing your back in a hug, "That arsehole. He didn't say anything to me about it."

"I don't know what to do..." You admit, nuzzling into his shoulder, eyes closing and you falling deeper into his embrace.

He hushes you, his other hand coming to sweetly stroke your head, "Leave it all to me now, love. I'll take care of that brute."

How embarrassing you feel, to unload all of this onto him and fall asleep in his arms.

.

"I thought we agreed ..... wait until she finishes the year?"

"..... too long, besides you ..... set up."

When you awaken next, you hear two sets of voices coming into your hearing, a small crack in the door making it easier for your hazy mind to make out. One was Professor Anaxa, the other was definitely Alhaitham. You wonder if he showed up randomly, Anaxa trying to kick him out for you, then it would be best if you hid yourself until he's gone.

Except, as you try to pull your arms towards you to help yourself up, you notice that they only go so far before being halted beside your head. Feeling takes its time to return, basic motor function even longer as you finally lift yourself into a sitting position and see that your wrists are parallel, facing inwards, cuffed by a thick, black, padded cuffs with a thin, black box tucked underneath for a key. A long chain trails above the headboard and into the mouth of a roaring, lion head - peering underneath shows it can be lessened and tightened at will.

Betrayal is the worst feeling, or perhaps the grief of losing the person you thought you knew. You've had to experience it twice in one week now, and it seems you're the only one mourning the loss of your relationships. They both enter the room, not shocked at you being awake and chained up, just neutral like it's another day in class.

Alhaitham is the first to speak to you, "How're you feeling?"

You obviously ignore him, looking to his companion for answers, "Did you drug me? While I was trusting you no less!" Not that it would make drugging you any better, though it does sound worse somehow.

Anaxa pinches the bridge of his nose, as if this is an inconvenience for him, "It wasn't supposed to go this way. If someone kept it in his pants, then you would have actually had a chance to finish the year. Instead, you're doting haravatat professor over here let his dick lead."

Alhaitham chortles, coming to stand beside him, "You certainly went silent about it when you say the pictures. Don't think I didn't notice the stiffy in your jeans."

"Even so," he turns to him, angrily, "You should have told me sooner, instead I had to take drastic action on the spot."

His hands motion to you, chained up to the bed. You flex your toes, the drug still taking its time to leave your system, "But why do any of this? I thought you said I was a good student."

Anaxa sits on the edge of the bed, as though being closer to you will help you ease your anxieties, "Yes, you are. I am still hopeful you will join me on exhibitions and such in the future. For now, however, you still need a bit of... training."

"Training?"

"Well, you're obviously going to run to the police if we let you go," Alhaitham says, matter-of-fact, "And you're dreams of running your own crew are really cute. It's just, Anaxa and I, we think you'd be better suited as an assistant or motivational support. Something closer to us."

You can't believe your ears, "I would have been honoured to work with either of you - with both of you! There was no need to go to this length."

"Don't be ridiculous," Alhaitham shakes his head, walking around the bed and dividing your attention, taking a seat on the other side. You couldn't move either way, both men an equal distance currently. He slides his hand across the covers and to your thigh, no amount of shifting able to escape his grippy hand, "We see how you look at us, like a fatherly mentor. Is it so bad you're someone we want to fuck? You'd never spread these pretty legs otherwise."

The disgust rolls off you in waves. Looking to Anaxa only confirms what he says, the man leaning over to push your hair from your face and relaxing his hand on the top of your head, "Really, it's an honour. I wouldn't put in so much risk for just any person. And we'll give you a much better life."

You shake his hand off of you, "I didn't work this hard to be kidnapped." With a little less aggression, you take a deep breath and try and a more practical approach, "Professor Anaxagoras, Professor Alhaitham, I think we all may have come to some confusion and misunderstanding."

Alhaitham purses his lips, pulling his hand away and saying after a moment of contemplation, "You should really try her throat. It's nice and tight; warm too."

"You-"

"Yes," Anaxa agrees to his insinuation, "It seems just going straight for it is the best course of action. Show her how serious we are rather than let her think she has any other choices." He then glares towards the other, "I get to use her pussy first. You had your fun, now it's my turn to choose."

Your teeth feel like they were about to crack with how hard you were gritting them, "You fucking bastards-!"

"Fine with me," Alhaitham shrugs, and the get to work stripping your flailing body. He holds you up after peeling your shirt above your head and leaving it to hand on the chain, unclasping your bra and holding your torso down by the waist while Anaxa easily slips your pants and underwear off.

You squeal when Alhaitham runs a finger over your nipple, the hardened peak sensitive to the airy room and new touch. Anaxa kneels between your thighs, gripping them hard to gain your attention, "Hey, focus on me now. It's my time."

The foreplay is nothing short of ruined, though it's to be assumed the main goal right now was your obedience and defeat. His fingers tentatively glide along your slit, testing your reactions and wetness before spreading your lips apart with his pointer and ring finger, using his middle to slide through to your clit. You bite your lip, mouth twitching and body going still.

"That's it," he practically purrs, being more playful and fluid with his movements, "Good girl. Spread your legs a little wider for me, now."

You attempt the opposite, going to slam your thighs closed yet there was no point as he easily kept them open with his own. Alhaitham clicks his tongue beside you, "Naughty, naughty. You're lucky we don't have our tools with us, perhaps a nice spanking with a ruler, to the back of your thighs, will keep you in check."

Your lips part with a silent exhale as Anaxa enters his fingers inside you, scissoring your cunt with a slow speed, pushing in all sorts of directions to find your best spots. Your voice is quiet, though no less dripping with hatred, "What do you expect... I hate you."

"Don't be like that," Anaxa coos, adding a third finger as he undoes his shirt with his other hand, "Or do, you'll change your perspective eventually."

Alhaitham begins to relieve himself of his clothing as well, "If there's one thing he's good at, it's debates."

"I'm good at a lot of things," he retorts, pulling his fingers out and removing his pants now. His cock was already hard and leaking, the veins more prominent than Alhaitham's and his tip weeping more precum as well. It only helped enhance his own lubricant, his fingers toying with the head to gather and schlick it down his shaft, licking his lips as he eyed you like a good meal, "You should find this more than satisfactory as well."

You were too preoccupied with his display that by the time Alhaitham garnered your attention again, he was already naked and holding his dick out for you to swallow. His other hand slides through the tresses of your hair, the familiar feeling of that alone sending your heart and breathing into haywire. He taps the wet head to your sealed lips, smiling snidely down at you, "Welcome back~"

His thumb slips behind your cheeks, to the back of your teeth and prying them open. Between your legs, Anaxa is beginning his push into you, one hand circling your clit and the other squishing and rolling the fat of your waist to stabilise himself and keep him grounded from thrusting into you. You're not strong enough to stop either of them, eventually Alhaitham enters your mouth again, and Anaxa bottoms out, deep inside you, falling forward and kissing tenderly between your breasts.

His hand on your waist slides over your stomach and to one of your mounds of flesh, massaging the breast as he groans, "Fuck, absolutely heavenly. If divinity existed then, I would consider you to be part of it."

You couldn't retort if you wanted to, Alhaitham taking his time to touch the knob of his cock to every part of your mouth and leaving his taste. He shallowly thrusts, Anaxa now suckling your tit as though goading something to come out from it, his pathetic humping only an appetiser as he allows you to adjust. Teeth lightly bite at your breasts, fingers pinching your clit and making you wince around Alhaitham's deepening cock.

Anaxa pops! off your nipple, sitting up and holding your hips at an elevated angle over his own, sliding out delightfully to start a steady, ongoing pace of his cock kissing your insides. Both of you roll your eyes, and you wish it didn't feel as good as he was making it, his hearty moans low and tantalising, "Such a beautiful girl. Could fuck this pussy every day for the rest of my life. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Your throat tightens around Alhaitham, noises being pushed thrust out of you with every push. Alhaitham caresses your cheeks, one of his palms soothingly trailing to your neck to feel the indent of his dick in your throat, "She absolutely would. Hungry for knowledge and cock, isn't that right?"

Anaxa chuckles lowly, lifting one of your legs to get a better, deeper angle, "Been thinking about how to get you sitting in my lectures, my cum pooling on the seat below as you try to keep it hidden from the other students."

Alhaitham tackles onto that, pace quickening as he chases his high down your throat, "To send you to school every day, nice and full, thanking your favourite professor with a kiss on the cheek and a good fuck."

"Who're you calling favourite?" Anaxa chides, rolling his hips in a way that catches your clit, an elongated moan being pulled lasciviously from deep within you. He laughs, single eye tauntingly gazing at the other, "From the sounds of that, it's me."

Your trembling knees and jolting hips grab their attention, Alhaitham lovingly wiping away a stray tear of pleasure, "Then perhaps you would like to make her cum? She does oh, so tighten perfectly in all the right ways."

It's no use to hide your reactions, your moans and the clicking of saliva and cum covered sex just too much to keep anything hidden. Your bouncing breasts are adding to the pressure, the movement salacious, holes filled with cock and cum, and Anaxa was right. Fuck, he feels so good inside you that it kills you to admit it. Why couldn't they be more rough, torturous, hurt you in a way more physical to meet on par with the mental torment.

"Gonna cum?"

Gonna cum... Gonna cum... Fuck, you're about to lose yourself on your professor's cock and there's no way to stop it. You suck in, your pussy clenching and milking, your mouth guzzling and tongue lapping to move around the object stuffing and trying to suffocate you. Hands roam all over your body, 'good girl' and 'pretty girl' and all sorts of praise being directed at you as you orgasm.

It's enough to tip them, the familiar feeling and taste of Alhaitham emptying his balls down your mouth. It was new to feel Anaxa, a gushing of cum being pressed so deep inside you that you'd be right to think he's trying to breed you.

Alhaitham eventually leaves your mouth, now feeling cold without him, though the oxygen to your brain makes your head spin. He's gentle to lay you down, head rolling to the side as you breathe heavily. You whine at the sensitive feeling of Anaxa pulling out of you, the feeling of liquid dripping down your sex an interesting sensation. Your pussy unwillingly clenches, pushing more of his ejaculate out of you.

Anaxa clicks his tongue disappointedly, "Not yet, keep it in a little longer, don't be so ungrateful." He fingers come to push it back in, holding them to the entrance to block any more leakage.

Once you finally get your breath back, you haphazardly shake your arms to bring attention to your cuffs, "Un...tie me..."

"Are you going to be good? Won't try and fight us?" Anaxa inquires, tickling his fingers of his other hand along your exposed stomach, bringing goosebumps all over your skin.

You close your eyes, more tears trickling down your cheeks, mixing with the cum and spit you couldn't swallow down, "I want to go home..."

He sighs, disheartened by your answer, "That's incorrect. Perhaps we should try... A new angle. What do you think, Professor Alhaitham?"

He grins wryly at him, "I hear DVP is pretty persuasive." At your lack of reaction, he whispers, "Double vagina penetration."

Your lips tremble, wobbling as you shake your head and sob, "Please no, no more."

Anaxa removes his fingers, idly holding up the slick digits to the light so he can inspect them. He then makes a show of puttling them in his mouth, sucking them clean with his eye closed as if putting together the notes of flavour. His fingers are clean when he pulls them out, "You can do more. If you can handle our lectures back-to-back, then you can take us both. Think of this as a particularly vigorous study session."

"And the only way to get better is to study, right?" Alhaitham sits you up, leaning you against his chest. His fingers go back to your puffy pussy, playing lightly with your slick, "Our good girl is a perfect student, after all."

Your body shakes violently beneath them.

...

The chain on your ankle clinks with every step, the heavy cuff thankfully not so tight to cut into your skin. You were wearing a long nightgown, long sleeves to keep you warm, though the fabric itself wasn't so thick.

Anaxa sipped comfortably at his drink, clicking through the photos of the house he wanted to show you, "50 acres, absolute isolation, I'm thinking we knock out a few walls and build it up how we want. What do you think?"

You're exhausted, you can't stand another punishment if you don't play along. Why can't he just let you sleep? It's already 1am, he needs to get up for class tomorrow, and you... You just want him to leave so you can have the house to yourself. "It looks good."

"You'll get to go outside," he says, voice lighter at the prospect, "With precautions, of course. But being seen won't be an issue."

There's trees around the fields, a lake off one of the yards. An indoor pool, a plethora of rooms, too. It seems like the perfect place for them both to get some alone time with you when they want. You nod, "That would be nice."

He hums over the rim of his mug, eyeing you from the corner of his gaze. After a second, he places his mug down and pulls you into his lap, planting loving kisses up and down your neck, "Good. You can show Alhaitham when he comes over tomorrow."

Your heart skips a beat, though you try not to show it, there's no doubt he can sense your unease, "O-Oh. I wasn't aware he would be here."

"Mm," he moves your face towards him, hand petting up and down your thigh from below your nightie, "He wants you to go over essays with him, you should enjoy the topics." A sweet kiss to your lips, and you lightly pucker back to imitate a response. Thankfully, he accepts it, sliding you off his lap and bopping your bum with the palm of his hand, "Off to bed, now. I'll be in shortly."

You don't need to be told twice, turning on your heels and mumbling a barely audible, "G'night."

[bats-and-the-birds]

I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

[dedalvs]

hey friend, i know you’ve been a pretty serious supporter and user of duolingo for a long time (so have i!), so i’m curious what your feeling is about the announcement that they’re going to be doubling down on using more and more AI for content creation, including using it to avoid having to hire actual humans?

personally, i’m really disappointed - i’ve disliked how much they’ve been using it so far, but the app is otherwise a great tool, and all of the other apps seem to use it, too, so it’s not easy to just jump ship to an app that isn’t using AI. i’ve seen a lot of responses that are like “hurr hurr just use a textbook idiot” which i find really unhelpful; learning from an app is easier and a lot more convenient in a lot of ways than having to use analog materials, especially if you study a high number of languages. still, i don’t ethically feel that i can keep giving them money if this is the direction they’re going.

what are your thoughts?

This is going to be a longer answer than you might have expected.

In 2001, fellow undergrad. Reiko Kataoka (now a professor at San Jose State) resurrected a club that had been dead for a few years at UC Berkeley linguistics: The Society of Linguistics Undergraduates (SLUG). One of its former undergraduate members, Alan Yu (now a professor at the University of Chicago), happened to be a graduate student at Berkeley at the time, so he helped her get it off the ground. The club was exactly what I was looking for at that time: a group for ling. undergrads. to get together and talk about language and linguistics, my new favorite thing. It was great! I even put together a couple phonology problems using my conlangs to distribute at a meeting. The following year I became the second president of the new SLUG and helped to create the SLUG Undergraduate Linguistics Symposium, where I gave my first talk on language creation. Being a part of this club was a major factor in shaping my undergraduate experience at Berkeley.

When I graduated I went to UC San Diego to pursue a graduate degree in linguistics. Part of the reason I chose UCSD was because it was an incredibly inviting atmosphere. Before we accepted they paid for prospective undergraduates down to San Diego and housed them with current grad. students who told them about the program and took them out for dinner, etc. It allowed prospective students to ask questions they wouldn't ask of professors (e.g. who's got beef with who). It was really cool, and so in our second year, we continued the tradition of housing prospective grad. students. Since we both went to Berkeley, my ex-wife (also a Berkeley ling. grad.) and I hosted Klinton Bicknell.

Klinton, it turns out, was the current president of SLUG. I didn't know him while I was at Cal, but we did overlap. It turns out he had renamed the club SLUGS, which I thought was weird. He said "It happened organically" and laughed in an off-putting way. He very much gave off the impression of someone who will smile at you and say whatever is necessary for you to go away. Klinton ended up going to UCSD the following year and I ended up leaving the following year.

Fast forward to 2016. HBO had put the kibosh on Living Language Valyrian, and so I turned to Duolingo. They had previously reached out about putting together a Dothraki course, but I declined, due to having a book out, Living Language Dothraki. With no hope for Valyrian, I asked if they'd be interested in me putting together a course on High Valyrian, which I did. I had some help at the beginning, but, truth be told, most of that course was built by me alone. I became very familiar with the Incubator, where Duolingo contributors built most of their courses. It was a bit clunky, but with enough elbow grease, you could put together something that was pretty darn good. It wasn't as shiny as their in house courses, because they couldn't do things like custom images, speaking challenges, etc., but it was still pretty good.

At the time I joined, everyone who was working in the Incubator was doing it for free. We were doing it because we wanted to put together a high quality course on our language of choice on Duolingo. When Duolingo went public, they realized this situation was untenable, so they began paying contributors. There were contracts, hourly wages, caps on billable hours, etc. It essentially became an as-you-will part time job, which wasn't too bad.

The Incubator faced a couple potentially insurmountable problems. When the courses were created by volunteers, Duolingo could say "This was made by volunteers; use at your own risk", essentially. Once they were paid, though, all courses became Duolingo products, which means they bear more responsibility for their quality. With so many courses (I mean, sooooooooo many courses) it's hard to ensure quality. Furthermore, "quality" doesn't just mean "are the exercises correct" and "are the sentences interesting". Quality means not being asked to translate sentences like "Women can't cook" or "The boy stabbed the puppy". With literally hundreds of courses each with thousands of sentences written by contractors, there was no way for Duolingo to ensure not just that they were staying on brand with these sentences, but that they weren't writing ugly things. There were reporting systems, there were admins that could resolve things behind the scenes, but with so much content, it became a situation where they would have had to hire a ton more people or scale back.

We saw what Duolingo did before with one aspect of their platform that had a similar issue. If you remember way back, Duolingo used to have a "forum", that was a real forum, but for most users, what it meant was on every single sentence in Duolingo users could make comments. These comments would explain grammar points, explain references, make jokes, etc. It was honestly really helpful. But, of course, with any system like that comes trolls, and so volunteers who had come to create language learning resources also found themselves being content reviewers, having to decide which comments to allow, which to delete, who to ban, etc. As Duolingo became more popular, the troll problem grew, and so eventually Duolingo's response was to kill the forum. This mean you were no longer able to see legitimate, helpful comments on sentences. They threw the baby out with the bathwater.

This is why it was no surprise to me when they shuttered the Incubator. The technology was out of date (from their standpoint, you understand. Their in house courses were way more sophisticated, but they couldn't update the Incubator without potentially breaking hundreds of courses they hadn't created themselves), quality assurance was nearly impossible, and they were also paying people to create and maintain these out-of-date courses they had no direct control over. Of course they closed it down. It would've taken a massive investment of time and resources (and capital) to take the Incubator as it was and turn it into something robust and future proof (think old Wordpress vs. Wordpress now), and Duolingo wanted to do other things, instead—like math and music. And so the Incubator died.

But that wasn't the only reason. This was something we heard internally and then heard later on publicly. There was rumbling that Duolingo was using AI to help flesh out their in house courses, which was troubling. This was before the big Gen AI boom, but after a particularly pernicious conlang-creation website I won't name had come to exist, so it caught my attention. I decided to do a little digging and see what this was all about, and I ended up with a familiar name.

Klinton Bicknell.

Indeed, the very same Klinton Bicknell was the head of all AI ventures at Duolingo. Whether enthusiastically or reluctantly or somewhere in between, he was absolutely a part of the decision to close the Incubator and remove all the contractors who had created all the courses that gave Duolingo its reputation. (Because, seriously, why did most of us go to Duolingo? Not for English, Spanish, French, and German.)

I know you sent this ask because of the recent news about Duolingo, but, to be honest, when I saw one of these articles float across my dash I had to check the date, because to me, the news was old. Duolingo isn't just now replacing contractors with AI: They already did. That was the Incubator; those were contractors. That is why there won't be more new language courses on Duolingo, and why the current courses are frozen. This isn't news. This is the continuation of a policy that had already firmly in place, and a direction that rests solidly on the shoulders of Klinton Bicknell.

But you don't have to take my word for it. He's talked about this plenty himself:

Podcast (Generative Now)

Article in Fast Company

Article in CNET

Google can help you find others.

At this point there's a sharp and baffling division in society with respect to generative AI. On the one hand, you have those of us who disapprove of generative AI on a truly fundamental level. Not only is the product something we don't want, the cost—both environmental and ethical—is utterly insupportable. Imagine someone asking you, "Hey, would you like a sandwich made out of shoelaces and shit?" And you say, "God, no, why would anyone ever want that?!" And their response is, "But wait! To make this sandwich out of shoelaces and shit we had to strangle 1,000 kittens and drain the power grid. Now do you want it?"

On the other side, there are people who are still—I mean today—saying things like, "Wow! Have you heard of this AI thing?! It's incredible! I want AI in everything! Can AI make my table better? Can I add AI to my arthritis? We should make everything AI as quickly as possible!"

And conversations between the two sides go roughly like this:

A: Good lord, now they're using AI art on phone ads? Something has to stop this… B: Yeah, it's so cool! Look, I can make a new emoji on my phone with AI! A: Uhhh…what? I was saying it's bad. B: Totally! I wonder if there's an AI shower yet? Like, it could control the temperature so you always have the perfect shower! A: Do you know how much power it takes to run these genAI apps? At a time when we're already struggling with income inequality, housing, inflation, and climate change? B: I know! We should get AI to fix that! A: But AI is the problem! B: Hey ChatGPT: Teach me how to surf!

It's frustrating, because the B group is very much the 💁 group. It's like, "Someone was using ChatGPT and it told them to kill themselves!" and they respond, "Ha, ha! Wow. That shouldn't have happened. What a learning opportunity! ☺️ Hey ChatGPT: How do you make gazpacho?" There's a complete disconnect.

In terms of what you do with your money, it's a difficult thing. For example, I've used Apple computers consistently since 1988. I'm fully immersed in the Apple ecosystem and I love what they do. They, like every other major company, are employing AI. If you go over to r/apple any time one of these articles comes out, it's all comments from people criticizing Apple for not putting together a better AI product and putting it out faster; none saying that they shouldn't be doing it. They're all ravenous for genAI for reasons that defy my understanding. And so what do I do? I've turned off the AI features on all my Apple devices, but beyond that, I'm locked in. From one direction, I look like a hypocrite for using devices created by a company that's investing in AI. From the other direction, though, I am using their devices to say what they're doing is fucking despicable, and they should stop—and I'll keep doing so so long as there's breath in my body.

Duolingo isn't necessary the way that, say, a computer or phone is nowadays. Duolingo is still usable for free, though, of course, they make it a frustrating experience to use its free service. (This is certainly nothing exclusive to Duolingo. That's the way of everything nowadays: streaming services, games, social media... Not "Well give you cool things if you pay!" but "We'll make your life miserable if you don't!") If you do use their Incubator courses, though, I can assure you that those are AI-free. lol They're too outdated to have anything like that. Some of those courses are bigger than others; some are better than others. But all of them were put together by human volunteers, so there's that, at least. At this point, I don't think Duolingo needs your money—nor will they miss it. They're on a kind of macro plane at the moment where the next ten years will either see the company get even bigger or completely disintegrate; there's no in between. They're likely going to take a big swing into education (perhaps something like Duolingo University [Duoversity?]) and it's either going to make a ton of money or bankrupt them. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

I've taken the Finnish course in its entirety and we're doing Hungarian now, and I've learned a lot—not enough, but a lot. I'm grateful for it. I like the platform, and I agree with the basic tenets of the language courses (daily shallow intake is better than occasional deep intake; implicit learning ahead of explicit instruction is better than the reverse). I'm grateful they exist, I'm grateful we can still use them (because they can always retire all of them, remember), and I think it's brought a lot of positivity to the world. I think Luis Van Ahn is a good guy and I hope he can steer this thing back on course, but I'm not putting my money on it.

[shmalk]

Could you write the second half of what happens after price shoots immortal!reader? I love this idea, it makes me think of the Old Guard on netflix :D

you're dead.

that's the only thing any of them think, all of them shocked as they watch price holster his weapon and lean back against the post. he checks his watch, one that was practically glued to the inside of his wrist, and takes a puff of his cigar.

its almost a minute before any of them move - and gaz is first, throwing himself onto the ground beside you, pulling you into his arms and trying to pick you up off the ground.

there's too much blood, and he can't seem to lift you - were you always that heavy?

soap is slow, stuttering his feet until he reaches gaz, glancing down at the scene. your hair is mattered and tangled, covered in dust and now your own blood. your eyes are wide open and holding contact with the sky, no sneaking glances towards him or even a slight wink - you're dead.

simon is the only one who focuses on price - storming his way up to him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground. he's confused, scared, for once, he doesn't know anything. did you betray them? did price?

despite knowing the inner turmoil inside his task force's head, price can't help but bark out a laugh, patting on ghost's hands to get the man to drop him.

soap retreats at that, joining ghost as the two of them demand answers - all but promising to take him into the interrogation room and demand he tell the truth.

gaz has to step away to vomit, your blood is warm and it's dripping - but he can feel it moving, he knows its not real and he's imagining it, hoping you'll turn to face him and scream about it being a prank. but you wont - you're dead.

only, you're not dead, and you can't help but groan as your eyes come back into focus, your arms feel like led - but you're able to lift one to cover your eyes from staring up at the sun.

you cough a few times, and push yourself up onto your elbow. you hate getting shot, it was a horrible feeling and you never liked loosing that much blood - but price had done it once (after you'd all but demanded he do it) and now he liked the shock factor.

glancing around, you take note of ghost, holding price by his shirt against a pole, and soap holding a large metal pole, threating to beat him over the head. all of three of them have turned to stare at you as you rise from the dead.

gaz is beside you, frozen in place in the middle of wiping his face free from bile.

"sorry for getting shot in the head, you guys."

a few people asked for a continuation !! sorry if this isn't the best, had a long day at work today and the weather in aus is c r az y !!

[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[scintillyyy]

one thing i wish people understood about rr!tim is that anger at dick for replacing him and needing to prove him wrong about bruce aren't tim's motivating factors. while i won't pretend tim wasn't at least a little angry with dick, it was a very angry tim for them all, a lot of his motivating factors for everything he chooses to do once he decides to leave gotham are:

he wants his life to go back to normal (by bruce coming back) and for people he loves to stop dying (by bringing bruce back). he doesn't particularly care about proving them wrong actually it's about the return to normalcy

he wants to NOT taint batman-robin-dick by association with the underhanded things he knows he's going to have to do (because tim has very strong opinions on what batman should be and do and tim's search for bruce would NOT align with what batman should be doing) and by the time he leaves gotham/his fight with dick after he's realized bruce is alive is partially his teenage anger BUT its also he is actively pushing dick away because dick has to be batman and he has a job to do and and to tim that means he *can't be focused* on saving tim. the last thing tim says to him before leaving is affirming that dick's current job is taking care of gotham and protecting the robin legacy. while i won't deny that tim is probably being a bit petty this era, as he is wont to do, i do think at least some of him pushing dick away until the final resolution in red robin #12 and dick catching him is because he wants dick to focus on gotham and being batman, not on trying to save tim. to tim, dick is the rightful and correct successor to batman and that's been a true fact for tim since knightfall and tim in his stubbornness and passive suicidality knows that dick would drop everything to save him which is why tim has to be the one to make sure that batman is doing his job and not getting frazzled by pushing dick away to where tim feels he belongs. idk i think a lot of times ppl will ascribe the anger at dick as his motivating factor BUT the truth is that once tim saw the portrait he had a purpose and his purpose was "making sure dick doesn't follow me this time because dick has to take care of gotham" hence you get the overt pushing away. but once tim has done his job and fulfilled his purpose (saving bruce's legacy and finding bruce) he no longer has to push dick away and is able to let the batman he knew dick could be save him.

[ambermotta]

6 Types of Protection Magick

There are many ways one can do protective magick. In this post I'll be going into 6 of the most common and accessible ones!

Please understand that even one "protection magick type" can be done in an infinity of ways, some of which are closed to certain practices.

Disclaimer: based on my experience and research. I don't claim to know all truth. Further study is encouraged!

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

#1 — Magic circle

The magic circle consists of creating a protection and delimiting a sacred space for magic and/or ritual.

The magic circle is probably one of the most popular protection methods thanks to its encouraged use in Wicca. However, other traditions have made use of similar concepts, such as in the afro-brazillian Umbanda concept of "chain".

The circle can be physically drawn on the ground, delimited by the members inside the circle, or visualized.

Casting one is fairly simple since it can be done in different ways, either in groups or solitary practice. You can use tools such as wands, chalk or physical objects to draw it, but what matters most is intention and successful visualization.

Before casting a circle it's important to have everything you will need already within grasp and inside the circle, since once created it is advisable that no one leaves it until the work is complete.

#2 — Amulets, and Enchanted Items

Enchanted Items are a very popular and effective form of magic, especially for personal use. These are often common objects that have been enchanted for protection.

They are often necklaces, rings and other jewelry since these are the most practical to carry around without suspicion. However, they can be any object.

Amulets can be created via enchanting, charms, or by asking deities and spirits to bless them with protective qualities.

The material and imagery used to create the talisman is also important in determining the kind of job it wants to do.

#3 — Sigils and other drawn Symbols

Sigils and Symbols can be used both for personal protection and for warding spaces. Here I am also including Runes.

They can be carved into objects, drawn upon skin and surfaces, or even tattooed.

However, before using any sigil, symbol or rune it is of extreme importance that you know exactly what they do, and know as much about them as possible. Especially if you plan on drawing them on your skin (either temporarily or permanently).

Unless specifically used only for protection purposes, inadequate use of them can lead to disaster. Even then, the type of protection they bring can vary.

For example, a protection sigil that works by hiding you from threats is different from a sigil that fights threats that come to you. It's important to set or to know how their protection work so that you do not come across unwanted results.

#4 — Prayer

My definition of praying: focusing on sending a message to a higher spiritual power, be it an entity, deity or energy.

Prayers are a great way of manifesting protection, though since you are asking for it to a higher power you must understand that it may choose to not grant it, or not grant it in the way you expect.

Plus, it is very important to know where you stand with this energy or entity. Do you work with them already? For how long? What is the nature of the relationship? Do you truly know them well enough to ask them for this? Is it really appropriate?

Cultivating a good relationship and having manners can be decisive factors for manifesting this sort of protection. Plus, it's always good to "give back" in some way. To receive something, something must be given eventually.

#5 — Affirmations and Visualizations

Words and the mind have innate power. Affirmations and visualizations are great ways to manifest protections because they rely only on yourself.

They are easier to do right if you use them together with other methods, or if you have physical representations of the work being done. To be successful one must focus, "feel" them happening, and maintaining that without help can be difficult. Frequent practice will help you get the hang of it.

There are also techniques that make affirmations and visualizations both more powerful and easier to accomplish.

#6 — Warding

Warding is when you set up a semi-permanent protection in a specific place, such as your house.

It can be done in many different ways. One of the most common is to have an object or place designated as the "holder" of the ward, which should be well kept.

Warding will be more powerful if you are frequently cleansing the space and recharging the ward. Leaving it alone for too long can weaken in or make it lose its properties altogether.

Some plants are used for this kind of protection, since they (usually) stay in place, can be powerful magical allies, and you'll be checking on them often anyway. The ones usued are often those with thorns, threatening-looking leaves, or even poison.

Note: always be very careful about bringing poisonous plants home, especially if you have children or pets.

Conclusion

This was an overview of the most common types of protective magick. A lot of protection spells and works fall somewhere within these categories, or are a combination of them.

Each tradition has a certain way of going about spiritual protection, so if you are exploring an specific path, I encourage you to not only research about protection in general but to also look into what unique techniques your path has to offer!

Many blessings and thank you for reading! ♡