#i just use all my college research paper knowledge

[spirkbitch]

i love writing spock in fanfiction because i just write him the same way i wrote research papers in school and it always works

[sad--tree]

keep saying i don't want 2 work another retail xmas but canNOT 4 the life of me make myself finish my goddamn fucking job applications !!!!!! death & dying & despair etc. etc.

[chaotic-mystery]

PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

[orchidyoonkook]

Do you have any tips for new writers/accounts to get popular???

Hello!!!!!

SO:

I was a shit writer for a very long time cuz I never wrote. But one day I wanted to change that so at 19 I made up a story and wrote down all my plot points and then did a DEEP DIVE on Pinterest of all things collecting every bit of advice I could. I’m talking ideas, how to do this, how to not use the word said, how to start sentences. How sentences should flow and their lengths, big uncommon words. EVERYTHING.

Anything and everything I could get my hands on. 

And on top of that I’ve been a reader for forever. I have so many books I don’t even know how many I have. And so I use that knowledge when editing. I don’t read it from a writing POV after I write it. I turn into a reader and think about how I would feel about it from a readers POV and if something doesn’t work. I fix it.

I have a small background in script writing from my college days which definitely helped a bit. But if you’ve ever studied script writing you know it doesn’t really help creative writing outside of structure.

And when I write I’m someone who writes until I think the story is done. Not the arc. Not the characters. But the overall story of what I’m trying to portray. I don’t actively think about putting the climax of the story here or some foreshadowing there. I write intuitively if that makes sense. I try to sense out what feels right. And some of that comes naturally, some of it doesn’t and I have to work on it.

Me and @violetsiren90 were actually talking roughly about this last night. Our differences in how we write and how my advice from her last fic that I edited had already helped her with her new one cuz she can now see all of the little things that I pick up on from my style of writing versus the times where she tells me why she writes in that specific way and why she will be keeping it as is. Vi if you wanna add anything in the comments I’m forgetting, by all means feel free.

Most writers will tell you to practice. To tell you to write something even if it’s just a sentence everyday. But that didn’t help me. The stuff on my blog are the very first things I’ve written for myself ever. I didn’t write in highschool or college outside of what I was forced to write and my one story that the Pinterest board was initially for.

For me it was about researching style and reading posts like these from other writers, being confident in your style and learning what rules to break and when to break them. It was about reading over your work a hundred times and to be impartial when you read so you can fix the mistakes that won’t work.

The benefit of writing is you can go over something you’ve written a hundred times until you think it’s ready. A thousand times. I can go back and rewrite that first story if I want too. Nothing can stop me.

But don’t get me wrong. I go back and read all my works on here from time to time and I still constantly find things I would change now. Word changes. Phrasing changes. Everything. But that’s just another sign of improvement. Writing is a constantly improving art form. There is no limit. Only growth.

And the last thing I do is write down everything. I have a TERRIBLE memory. So I write down every single idea. On a scrap piece of paper. In my phone. On a computer. In a notebook. Cuz you never know when you’ll use it.

My most recent story, The Devil Wears Valentino, I got the idea for that name sometime in the immediate aftermath of Valentino Yoongi. I was in the shower after watching the devil wears Prada and my mind just connected the two. And then it sat unused in my notes all until the week before Halloween 2023. I would’ve forgotten had I not written it down. But there it was right when I needed it, a gift from past me. And here we are.

As for popularity, dude I have no goddamn idea. I don’t even think I count as a popular/big blog. I utilize the HELL out of aesthetics, formatting and tags and I’m nice. That’s my spiel on that. Aesthetic. Format. Tag. Kindness. Talent, sure. I guess. But writing is one of those things, ESPECIALLY in fic, where it doesn’t have to be the best cuz folks just wanna read their comfort character or person in the same scenarios over and over again. Source: I do that. And I’ve read stories that don’t have the best writing. But the story was good, or vice versa. People are way more forgiving on here.

I didn’t come on here(tumblr) with the intention of writing let alone giving writing and popularity advice. I just wanted to read and support people and then the community I’ve built for myself has just grown and grown and I’ve been so incredibly fortunate, which is where kindness comes in.

Leave reviews and like and reblog stuff. Tell people how much you love their work. Let them know you write too. Create friendships with people who wanna support you. And people who you wanna support. Community is the base of everything.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of murder, spouse death, child death, betrayal, blood, violence, guilt, depression, manhunt

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah remember what I said about trying to finish this before Halloween? Yeah I'm a fucking liar don't ever take me for my word I am a monster.

This is where I decided to merge a tiny bit of lore from comics/MCU Moon Knight here in regards to his powers.

But anyways... Have this little tidbit into Marc's backstory! Marc and Randall are only about two years apart in age. So that means Marc is 36 at the time of this story. Forgive a few discrepancies here and there as I better establish a timeline.

Taglist: @badbishsblog

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 5

Living with Marc was certainly a hell of an experience. But, at the same time, you two were becoming a well-oiled machine. Barring the awkward slip-ups that had you two avoiding each other like the plague for hours, anyways.

It was nice, you found, to not be alone in your house anymore. You never realized it before, but you were always so... gray. Lifeless almost when you were alone. You didn't like to be left alone with your thoughts of yourself, of your inadequacies you'd never voice with anyone except your therapist.

But having Marc around eased that loneliness you actually hadn't realized you'd been feeling. Hell, it wasn't until he moved in and you got used to having another body in your house that you realized you were lonely in the first place.

Despite this, you'd realized that while yes, you had read his file and learned about his background, you'd yet to actually ask him about his past.

You haven't heard it directly from the horse's mouth, as it were.

But you decided not to broach the subject, yet. You still felt that it was too soon for that after your fight and make-up as a team to risk being at the throat of your new roommate.

Because, you realized, it was nice having one again. You hadn't had a roommate since you had been in foster care.

And you weren't ready to lose that just yet.

Marc had odd habits, to say the least. More often than not, you'd catch him actually sleeping in the basement on the old plush couch you kept down there, instead of his bedroom.

His bedroom was always kept immaculate, but the basement was his workspace and god, was it a mess.

Papers and tech strewn about, gear scattered on worktables as he took them apart to fix them or run maintenance; plus the cases containing your hero gear as well.

It looked like a college student crammed for their exam two hours before their finals almost every time you went down there...

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tonight, you'd found Marc fast asleep, snoring softly as he sprawled out on the worn, suede couch, his body sinking into the ridiculously squishy cushions as he dreamt.

He had one arm draped over his face, one knee raised, and the other arm hanging off the edge of the cushions, a datapad clutched tightly in his hand.

It was almost cute.

You pulled out a quilt you nabbed at a yard sale, once and carefully draped it over him, as the basement could get rather chilly at times and poor Marc was passed out in nothing but his sweats and a t-shirt.

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the mess scattered on the surface of the coffee table in front of him, plus the few on the floor. A few SHIELD-issue tablets, and some paper files (yeesh, who even used those anymore?).

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, sparing the unconscious Marc a small glance before you felt a nagging in your gut. Curiosity was always one of your less... qualities at times.

How did that story about curiosity and the cat go, again?

Anyways...

You simply couldn't help yourself. What exactly was Marc always researching all the time?

You had to know. Even if it was just a tiny nugget of knowledge.

You sat in a squat next to Marc, looking at him as he breathed softly, showing no signs of stirring.

You slowly and as gently as possible, pulled the tablet in Marc's hand free of his calloused fingers, and stepped away from him to turn it on, so the light wouldn't stir him.

And you were glad you did, it almost blinded you when you hit the power button.

How the fuck did Marc see with shit this bright?

You had to fumble until you turned the brightness down, and let your eyes re-adjust.

The thing that immediately struck you was one line.

A name.

It made your blood chill, turning into icy sludge as it crawled through your veins; you felt your mouth go dry.

Randall Spector.

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Last known confirmed location: Paris, France.

The rest of the page had a list of crimes he was the main suspect of. Murder, theft, espionage, assassination...

You looked up, dumbfounded at Marc's sleeping body.

There was no way they could be related. It had to be common name, right?

You looked back down and scrolled to another page.

And your hopes that it was a common last name were dashed.

The picture of the man was this Randall, younger obviously, he looked to be in his early 20s in his Illinois ID.

But the resemblance to Marc was sickeningly uncanny. Randall had messy curly hair that was slicked back as best he could, and a charming smile that could no doubt put a heart attack at ease, his brown eyes glowing with humor in their depths as he grinned for the camera.

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat and continued scrolling. The file contained grainy and blurry security footage of possible sightings over the years in various places across the globe.

The most shocking picture at the end, however... Was a picture of Marc with a group of people, Randall included.

They were, judging by the looks of it, in a desert of some kind. Randall hung on Marc, appearing to be laughing as the photo had been taken, meanwhile Marc stood, unusually clean-shaven and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave a small, ghost of a smile.

A young woman stood to Marc's left, holding onto his forearm as she smiled widely, her dark black, curly hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick-rimmed glasses perched all the way up her nose.

Marc and that woman wore matching bands on their left ring fingers.

You brought your hand to your mouth in revulsion at the revelation, feeling your stomach roil in protest. It was either guilt, or horror because you knew... Marc had no family. You knew about his daughter being dead. But not her mother. Nothing about a brother.

You were in too deep now, and you just couldn't stop yourself.

You scrolled to a new page, detailing a small bit of information on that woman.

Erica Spector.

Age (deceased): 26

Race: Hispanic.

Cause of death: Vehicular Accident (Attributed to brake failure)

The picture of her ID broke your heart. She beamed at the camera, her slightly crooked teeth showing as she smiled proudly, a slight glare in her glasses as the flash hit the lenses.

The next photo, was her and Marc. At their wedding. She wore a gorgeous mermaid gown with a floral lace neckline, her sleeves ending in almost a bell-shape. Her hair hung down in gorgeous waves with violets pinned to the strands, framing her face and sun-kissed skin illuminated with highlighter as she smiled at the camera. Marc had been looking at the ground for whatever reason as they both stood at the altar, his arm around her waist and his hand adjusting the waistline of his dress pants.

But he was smiling. And it was such a gorgeous smile, teeth out, dimples in his cheeks and his eyes practically closed from how wide his lips were stretched.

The next photo broke your heart.

It appeared to be a maybe a year or so later (at most) after the photo of them in the desert.

Erica was pregnant, her belly sticking out far in the baby blue sundress she wore, holding up a cute pink onesie in her hands that simply read "Daddy's Princess" on the front in purple cursive font.

The photo after that one was of them in the hospital, Marc standing by the window of the hospital room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, a soft, glowing smile on his face as her tiny fingers gripped his hand.

You felt your chest burn as you felt the gravity start to kick in, but you turned another page in the file.

Diatrice Spector

Age (deceased): 5

Race: Hispanic-Caucasian

Cause of death: Homicide (Found to be caused by gunshot wounds to the chest.)

You felt like your heart would give out at that word.

Homicide.

You assumed Marc lost his daughter in some horrible, tragic accident, like you'd lost your family.

But no. Three years ago, someone murdered his baby. And her babysitter.

The photos of the crime scene unfolded next, bloody boot prints everywhere, the babysitter's head partially caved in from a beating, and Diatrice--

"What the hell are you doing?!"

You jumped and almost dropped the tablet in your fright, spinning on your heels to see Marc staring at you from the couch, the quilt hastily tossed off of him.

You expected him to be angry, to look absolutely pissed at you.

Instead he looked... Terrified. Scared.

Heartbroken.

His gorgeous brown eyes were big, heavy dark circles hanging like curtains over his cheeks as he stared at you, mouth agape.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't--" You stammer, swallowing hard, clutching the tablet against your chest.

"I was just..."

God, there was no excuse for this. You were curious. Curious and nosey, and you didn't have the guts to ask him anything about his past to his face yet, afraid for the repercussions that might cause; of the ripples it would trigger in the glass-like surface of the water of teamwork you two strove for.

Marc looks at you, your eyes locked in a tense, silent stare.

Then, he runs his hand through his air as he lets out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping.

He looks away and waves you over to sit next to him, and he scoots to the side.

The moment you sat down, you immediately thrust the tablet into his lap, your palms spreading over your knees as you bounced your feet.

"L-Look, I was just--"

"Stop." Marc sighed, setting the tablet on the coffee table. His voice was still heavy with sleep, that slightly gravelly tone you may or may not have fantasized about once or twice.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

"How far did you get?"

Your nails dug into the fabric of your pajama pants as your legs bounced aimlessly, trying to alleviate the embarrassment, guilt, and shame of you snooping through his things.

"I..." You say, chewing the inside of your cheek.

God, you felt terrible.

Your body stopped cold when his heavy hand slid over your knee, stopping your movements in their place.

You felt his fingers squeeze you softly, before his palm rubbed the bones he could feel beneath your skin and muscle in a soothing gesture.

"I guess it's only fair I tell you about me, huh?" Marc sighed dejectedly, taking his hand off of you and wiping his face, as if that gesture alone could erase his fatigue.

"To answer the first few questions I know you have bouncing around in your head..." He added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the paperwork and tablets on the table in front of you two.

"Yes. Randall is my brother. My little brother. And yes. I'm looking for him." Marc looked at you.

You were sitting patiently, your brows pinched and your expression pensive.

"Nobody would listen to me, but I know he caused the accident that killed Erica." You saw his throat bob hard as his expression darkened. "The investigation said she veered off the road due to bad conditions. But I'm not stupid. I looked into it myself, and bribed someone to let me look at the wreckage. The brake lines weren't torn during the crash, they were cut before the crash. Nobody would listen to me and I almost got arrested for interfering with an investigation. Yeah, right."

He snorted, a humorless and cold sound.

"They closed the case as an accident, wouldn't listen to me. Said I was "too hung up on the loss of my wife"." He made finger quotes. "So I investigated myself. God, fuck, I knew it was Randall... If they'd just listened to me... He..."

His voice broke up as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Diatrice wouldn't have been... I would still have her."

"Marc...." You say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why... why would Randall do this?"

He sighs deeply, a heavy sound coming from him like the air was just vacuumed out of his lungs.

"It... Fuck. Randall is the one who introduced me to Erica. I had just gotten out of the Marines. It just... They weren't a good fit for me, so I returned to Chicago. Home." Marc leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Randall had gotten a job in some security firm for archeological digs, which is where he met Erica. It was good money, he told me. They were friends. She just got her degree and was trying to get the spot on a dig site somewhere. We... hit it off fast. Within a year, we got married, Randall got me a job in his firm. A year after that, we went to Egypt with Erica on a dig."

"Your file said you got your powers on a dig in Egypt..." You say softly.

"Yeah. That same dig. It was a pain in the ass, we still don't know what exactly happened. I touched something, a statue, and... Poof. Powers." Marc lets out a slow hiss of air, his eyes closing, dark lashes touching his cheeks. "We finished the dig, everyone swore into secrecy. SHIELD found out about it anyways, and offered me a position. It's where I built my ankh and my tech."

"But... Peter said you got your powers from the ankh." You say, brows knit together in confusion.

"He's wrong. My file was put down incorrectly, but it's been fixed since I noticed the discrepancy after Peter mentioned that when he wanted my help during the Symbiote Invasion." Marc looked at you, his eyes tired and strained.

"But still. Something pissed Randall off. Randall and I weren't ever really friends, even as siblings. We tolerated each other. When I got those powers and he didn't? He just... he fucking snapped. After we returned from the dig, members of the team started turning up dead. Then, we found out we were expecting our first child. It turns out that Erica either got pregnant during the dig or shortly after."

You couldn't help but smile softly, your expression a bit pained. "During the dig? Marc..."

"Let's just say we were happy I wasn't dead after touching that statue." Marc said, closing his eyes with a nostalgic, yet sad smile.

"But anyways... with our baby on the way, we focused on that instead. When Diatrice was born, it was the happiest day of my life. She was a happy, bubbly little thing."

You sensed the shift from affectionate pride as he spoke about his daughter, to the grief you knew was coming as he spoke:

"Two years later, Erica had her "accident". Three years after that... Randall murdered Dee and Sandra. God. That poor girl. She was still so young. She tried so hard to keep him from hurting Dee."

He gritted his teeth and rested his arm over his face, most likely to hide the tears that wanted to roll free from the dam of his eyelids. Marc's voice was a weak tremble.

"After that, I started hunting, I moved my base of ops to the sewers. I went digging after he vanished. He became a hitman, a no-good killer for hire. Then I went to ground six months before the Symbiotes invaded. After that is when Peter found me, or well, I found him."

"And here we are, a year later..." You said softly.

"Yeah." He croaked out weakly.

You both sat in a long, pregnant silence. You weren't even sure how long it was, all you could hear was the sound of the water heater making noises now and again, and the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating your basement.

"Marc?" You finally asked.

"Yeah?" He answered.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lean back and over, until your head rested on Marc's shoulder.

You could feel him hold his breath and tense, and you waited until he breathed again to speak.

"...I'm sorry for snooping." You apologized.

"You were curious about me. It's not like I've been forthcoming about this shit." Marc sighed softly, his body softening slightly.

"But still. It was wrong." You say to him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

The smokey, pine scent of his choice of cologne and body wash filled your nose, filtering around in your lungs as you take in the essence that is Marc Spector.

"Marc."

"Still here."

"Thank you... for telling me all of this." You whisper.

"It was about time I get it all out. I guess it just took the right battering ram to knock the door down."

You can't help but chuckle, and Marc joins in with you.

It was good to hear him laugh.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 6: Link

[cyberthot666]

I only really started to figure out my goals and what I want to do in life by my late 20s. and the fact they expect us to have that figured out at 18? it just pisses me off to think about now. I never received the resources I needed then. I had no support system from my family or educators. any time I lacked in grades no adult around me thought “maybe you have a learning disability and need specific accommodations” I was only ever shamed and it caused me to give up. when now I CRAVE knowledge and I would love to sit in a college lecture & take notes and spend my days reading and writing research papers. but I can’t do that because I have to spend all my time working a job just to barely get by. the education system in this country fucking sucks.

[thelesbianpoirot]

My supervisor reading my report like 5 mins ago: I think you have dyslexia. Have you been tested.? Me showing her pictures of my many high school spelling bee trophies: Would someone with Dyslexia have these?

Her: THEN WHY CAN'T YOU WRITE A DECENT SENTENCE!

Me, shrug: The knowledge in my head doesn't translate onto paper. I think I am dumb, but like a complex sort of dumb, I don't write well, I misspell words I know how to spell, and can be incoherent, I also don't math well (separate issue), I used to dictate my thoughts to a voice to speech app and then edit it, and that's how I got through college. I dropped out, but it was a financial issue, not a skill issue.

Her: I think you're a high functioning dyslexic.

Me: If I am this high functioning, enough to be considered a great reader, even at a college level, can I even be considered dyslexic? I devour books and understand them, I just can't coherently write down my own knowledge, I talk better than write

Her: Is there a dyslexia just for writing? you should get tested, I may know a guy who can do it for free if you participate in his research for his thesis.

Me: Stop medicalizing my dumbness, I have accepted my dumbness, don't make excuses for me, I need to get better with more reading and practice.

Her: You're thirty, you've been trying to get better all your life, I don't think it's your intelligence that's the problem, I think you have a undiagnosed disability

What do you ladies think?

[greetings-inferiors]

Hey, I realize you do like maths. As someone who didnt go through highschool but got a highschool degree with only REALLY BASIC maths knowledge, I wanna ask: - Any advice or recommendations for someone who wants/needs to catch up/go from elementary to highschool maths ASAP many years after dropping the subject?

It seems to be an interesting subject but I had teachers that were so bad at teaching and so good at shaming and traumatizing that it blocked me and made me avoid maths like the plague, I do want to start over with maths and try again while making it a good experience this time, I need advice. Pls help. (anonymous cause embarrassed to admit I can barely get around with the basic 4 operations and begin getting lost when it goes into fractions, decimals, porcentages etc, and as a college student I should know advanced stuff like factoration and complex expressions by now)

I am incredibly blessed with the fact that I love maths, and had great teachers. I don’t really know how to get good at maths because by the time I was actually conscious about liking maths, I was already pretty good at it. I never had that thing of having to be better, because I’ve always just been good at it, and the things that I didn’t know I enjoyed learning so I just learnt them.

The problem with having to relearn something is that you FEEL like you’re better than you are. I stopped learning Japanese for a few months, and when I come back to it, I’ll have to go over basic kanji again, my brain tells me that I know it, but I don’t. I need to go over the basics, but before I learnt the basics with the spark of learning pushing me through. Now I’ve got to essentially revise something I forgot. It sucks.

What I’d recommend, is by jumping into the deep end. There are lots of maths videos on YouTube, and they’re really interesting, but you won’t understand anything. But that’s fine, because the things you don’t understand, you can watch videos about those. And the parts of those you don’t understand you can research into that. It may not be the most efficient way to learn, but eventually you will. Trial by fire and all that, and it might be more fun because you’re looking at stuff that interests you! You’ll find that the simple stuff actually has rather complex and interesting explanations, which I find really cool.

If you want to relearn quickly, then you just have to study. It sucks, but that’s just how it is. I don’t know what elementary school is, I assume it’s 11-14, and high school probably means gcse, which is 15-16.

Some basic tips:

Think of the operators as logically as possible. When you see 5x15, literally think of 15 added together 5 times. Think of 6/20 as 6 lots of 1/20 (which itself is 0.05. Maybe even think of it as 1/2 times 1/10.) basically just think of the operators as simply as possible until you’re able to think of them as their own thing. Then you can start introducing indices, square roots, etc.

Don’t be afraid of using a calculator (learning how to use a calculator effectively will massively boost your mathematical literacy).

write everything down (don’t rely on your mental maths. If you literally have to do every single equation on a piece of paper (assuming calculators aren’t allowed), do it. Never trust your mental maths until you’re certain that you’ve got good mental maths. Seriously, 90% of mistakes come from trying to make a shortcut in your head and messing up. Many people, my self included in the past, see writing down your working out as a sign of weakness, it isn’t.

Try to avoid the divisor symbol as much as possible, it isn’t actually an operator, it’s shorthand for fractions (the dots are placeholders for the things in front and behind). Honestly, you should prioritise getting comfortable with fractions. They’re really useful, especially in algebra.

If you get good at algebra, you’ll be good at almost everything maths can throw at you. Being able to rearrange equations is a skill that you will literally never not use. It also helps you with regular number equations because you can think of the numbers as variables. It sounds weird or as if you’re complicating it, but it can help.

(A/B)*C=(A*C)/B. It’s surprising how useful it is, and how often I’ll forget about it lmao

Look into geometry! Everything you do in maths can and has been described with shapes. And for some people that can help them visualise it! If shapes help you with maths, look into shapes! Geometry!

Factorisation is essentially just the reverse of multiplication. (2*5*7)=70, therefore the prime factors of 70 are 2,5, and 7. The same applies to algebra. Just think of what could be multiplied together to make x^2+3x+2. And hey, there’s a really handy formula for finding out the factors of quadratics that I highly recommend memorising if you think you’ll need it!

And most of all: try and have fun! Basic maths can be very tedious, but think of it like learning a language. Once you get the alphabet (numbers) and grammar (operators) out of the way, you’ll start to see all of the complex words and phrases you can create, and understand. And, best of all, you will NEVER stop learning, so you may as well start now!

[powerful-pleasureful]

Dear Rae, how are you? What do you loook like? Are you Asian? Is your paper just for fun or do you go to college for it?

Thanks, Jonathan

Thanks for your question.

I am a PhD Candidate at Purdue University and my study will inform my dissertation which I will be proposing in November. For my dissertation, I need to understand what aspects of an individuals friend, family, school, and societal environment may be promotive of or protective against alcohol use.

While I am not Asian or Asian American, I work closely with my Principle Investigator and research assistants who all identify as Asian or Asian American. I choose to work with this population because Asian and Asian American individuals are incredibly under represented in alcohol research.

As a transgender and non-binary individual, research is often focused on negative aspects of our lives. For Asian and Asian American transgender and gender non-conforming individuals, their experiences are even further under represented in alcohol research as most work including transgender and gender non-conforming alcohol use is in White samples.

I want to fill this knowledge gap because if a population isn't being researched they will not be prioritized when it comes to creating supportive programs or interventions.

If you would like to support my research, please consider completing the pre-screen survey to see if you qualify to participate via this link: https://tinyurl.com/RAEPreScreenSocial

[ashe-delta]

Last quarter I had this displeasure of having one of my classes get bait and switched from an English class to a class about using ChatCPT. That means I've technically taken a college level course on ChatGPT, making me far more qualified than I really wish I was on the subject, meaning I can "flex" my knowledge here.

For the record, ChatGPT is fine. There's no such thing as soulless art or writing, that's literally just Nazi rhetoric. The issue with AI is it's a misinformation machine, it'll take away a ton of important jobs, and it'll create a toxic environment for creators if not used for good. (And given the tech industry is using it, that's very likely!)

If you want to know what ChatGPT is actually useful for, it's creating summaries. They aren't great summaries, and I cannot stress this enough, it's not exactly responsible to say you've "read" an article when all you did was feed it to a machine which gave you the bullet points. But, like, as long as your on both sides of the machine (carefully tuning the input and the output) it's mostly fine.

Probably the most interesting assignment in that class was an essay compiling research. It didn't require a ton of work, mostly just comparing sources; you don't even need to have a super fleshed out point. The catch was that the professor provided all the sources—all of which talk about the downsides of AI, which I can respect. These sources were massive, talking 15-30 pages, and all of them full of the scholarly gatekeepy language that academic writing is known for, and there was 25 total. And you needed to use 18. For 7 pages! That is a lot of fucking reading for a college level course on an assignment we realistically had two weeks to do, especially academic reading.

The idea, then, is to not read it. The workload is too high on purpose, so you have to use a machine somewhere in the process to make it faster. So, make the AI read it. Again, this is not some high stakes academic paper, its just combining a bunch of sources together to make something slightly coherent. So if the AI can summarize the points, you can make the essay much faster than if you didn't.

From here, the prof expects you to just copy and paste the writing from the AI, but I wouldn't do that. That isn't what I said was "mostly fine", after all—carefully tuning both the input and the output. A human on both sides. What I'm proposing is to take what the AI said, and to make sure it's, you know, coherent, and make it into something better by actually analyzing it and doing comparisons yourself. I likened it to a "writing calculator". It gets something that's close enough that you can finish the job. But it's never always quite there. And it doesn't need to be! That is literally your job.

You can see where the main struggle with AI right now is, then. People are just taking the output at face value. The final product, push it out, don't check for misinformation, fire your staff, and let the AI do the job. It knows what its doing, after all. But it doesn't. It's essentially just a toddler babbling, guessing what's probably good enough.

One of the best things I've done to help my writing is to just create a summary of what I'm going to write. Instead of staring at a blank page, I'll write a 3 sentence summary of what I want this scene to be. Then, sentence by sentence, I can deconstruct it and add all the details back in. It's basically (totally) an outline, but the key thing is I already wrote exactly what I want, I just have to spice it up and give it life. The hardest part of writing, after all, is staring at that blank page. Anything is better than nothing.

You probably see where this is going, but AI is pretty decent at putting anything onto the page. It's also pretty good at writing pretty shitty. That's where you edit the summary that it's provided and make it something actually worth using. In academic writing, this would look like not letting a single word of it touch the page (also, because that's plagiarism, as its not your words). Instead you take it's thoughts, compare it to the sources itself (you're going to have to at least skim the sources to make sure its right). Don't do this in a high stakes academic writing environment, but lets be real, your 100-200 level courses aren't it. In creative writing, this is essentially just putting a prompt in and using it as a guideline or outline for the writing. Again, not letting its words hit the page.

This approach to writing with ChatGPT shocked my professor, which is weird, because I figured it's kinda the normal way to write something? You wouldn't let someone write your paper, but you would let someone tell you how a source might be useful, even if you need to double check its right. He's even thinking of changing the class to better fit this human on the input and output angle, which is deeply flattering. But it also goes to show just how volatile the market for AI and ChatGPT is right now. No one is actually sure how to use it right, everyone is just guessing.

All this to say, AI is not the devil. It is being wildly misused and no one can deny that, but the AI itself isn't at fault (although it's databases could be sourced a little better than that). It's the people using it. I have no plans to use ChatGPT in the future for, well, anything, but I can't discredit it completely, given it was actually helpful.

Now stop using it to automate things that DESPERATELY need a human in the production line.

[poisonioushearts]

Sentient Drew, Freddy, and Sander with a stressed out and depressed reader who had it rough at college and at home?

I gotchu dear fan I hope this is to your liking!

Stressed Out(Drew, Sander, Freddy)

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: not proofread, possibly some grammatical errors

Tags: comfort, established relationship, Drew and Sander surround the work load and Freddy's surround reader's family, reader is indeed stressed

Drew

One word: gentlemen

He saw you sluggishly walk into the break room for a cup of coffee

It wouldn't have been so bad if this hadn't been your fourth cup in just an hour of being there

When you turned to him you gave him a weak smile before taking you coffee and going to leave

He's not one to pry but he knew some of what you were going through

You worked at the union as a researcher while you studied in college and although you stayed in a small apartment at the moment your home life wasn't great

As you took a long drink of your coffee you stared at the papers in your hands that stated what you needed to complete in the next few days

You lived in apartment to be closer to work but back home your family wasn't the best at all

To make matters worse college life wasn't going smoothly

So you were exhausted to say the least

He walked over to you and gently placed his hands on yours

"Why don't you take a break? Have the day off?" His tone is gentle but firm as he speaks

You shake your head at this, "I can't I need to get this done."

He sighs and pulls the coffee and papers out of your hands even though you protest

He takes the day off with you

"Falken will understand, my love. Why don't you go home? I can help you with your college work if you'd like after you get some rest."

Sander

You didn't work at the Shadow Decree even though you spent most of your time there because your boyfriend worked there

You and Sander shared an apartment together, and often when he came home he'd find you asleep if it was particularly late or if it was early you would still be away at college for the day

Rarely did he come home to you working on homework because you'd try and do all your studying in the library for hours on end- he didn't have much knowledge of this fact

As for your home life, well, he knows of it and he's not particularly happy about the way you were treated at all

Your family members are under strict supervision, one wrong move or word towards you or anyone in your family that you may favorite, it's over

As said in one of his career stories, "He is incredibly organized and can devise a strategy for any situation using his critical examination of information that others often overlook."

Although he tries to talk in a soothing tone, you're the only one that knows it's 100% true when he's talking to you

He will not raise his voice at you, especially since he knows of what you endured back home

One day in particular he came home late to see the lights in the house on and you staring at the papers in front of you

You've been staring at them for a while, and the words had long since blurred together

But you had to finish this project, you had to get a good grade on this or else you'd fail the class

So there you were, hands resting on your face and fingers entangled in your hair as your eyes darted across the pages

You didn't even acknowledge that he came in the apartment

Only when he greeted as he walked in the doorway you did you respond with a meek 'hello' he sensed something was wrong

One glance at the papers and your disheveled state he had an idea of what was going on

You are not overworking yourself, he simply won't allow it

He makes a metal note to extend the date for your work before removing your hands from your head and holding them in his own

"I'll take care of this in the morning darling, let's go get some rest. That is not an request."

Freddy

Oh boy

This mans would murder your family given the chance

How dare they treat someone with that kind of disrespect

None of their excuses matter because there shouldn't be any in the first place

College was decent when you didn't have a workload of stuff to complete

Your family wanted to meet this significant other of yours, and you couldn't deny them because you didn't want any more backlash

You already get it because of the major you are studying in

The day you both went to your parents house you were exhausted after staying up all night finishing up a presentation

For the sake of you he tried to hold his tongue from spewing insults at your family members

Key word: tried

They insulted your major

Your life choices

Your tired state

Even giving judging glances at your lover

Now, Freddy got ticked off if someone insulted him, but if they insult you? His lover?

Cue Kesha

This place about to blow-

Oh how the smug looks were wiped off their faces when he nonchalantly revealed he worked for the shadow decree

They had the nerve to ask you straight up "what are you doing with a delinquent?"

"At the least he treats me better than you ever did." The statement was quiet but heard, and you made Freddy so proud

He'd had enough of this and he knew you did as well so he stood up with your hand in his and walked out the door

"Until you can learn to treat your own blood with respect we are not coming back. And if I hear you insult again..."

He didn't have to finish the statement to make himself clear

"I knew you said they were bad but this is outrageous. No one should have the right to treat you like that..."

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tiredphilosophy]

It’s times like these (exams) that I wonder what all this work was for. Like, on a whole, were the people who advanced society (philosophers, mathematicians, scientists, some politicians & rulers, etc) thinking “ah yes, one day my descendants will be able to sit in fluorescent-lit rooms and fill in bubbles on a piece of paper that will be judged by a machine to determine if they’re intelligent enough to not have to take a class in the special school they’ll go to after 12 years of schooling” or “ah yes, one day my decedents will be staying up late researching things they don’t give a damn about because the government decided it was important. Will they ever be genuinely interested in pursuing the topic after associating it with exhaustion, back pain, lack of control over their own lives, and a lack of self worth? Ha, probably not, isn’t that great?”

And then did pioneers from what are less privileged groups today go, “oh, oh, and my decedents will struggle to get an education instead! They’ll also have dirty water and be starving and their economy will be failing and their government will be corrupt! Wouldn’t that be so fun?”

And did the pioneers from what are privileged groups today go, “That’s genius! And the young people from our countries will learn, like, Calculus, while not being encouraged to help those less fortunate than them. I mean, they’ll do ‘service hours,’ I guess, but that won’t be nearly as rewarded as working to be accepted to a highly respected college, which they’ll also pay to attend, even though we’ll eventually create a resource (the internet) where literally all the knowledge of the human race can be recorded and communicated.”

I was told by people much smarter than me that the school system and much of our culture is meant, first and foremost, to benefit the economy. And personally, I believe it. We’re taught about productivity and how to maximize output, with only a small amount of time being dedicated to exploring what is valuable to us as individuals and to the world as a whole. Or the way that we, as individuals, function best, both alone and in a group. (And when I say in a group, I don’t mean group projects where you just want to get it done and get a decent grade, I mean group projects that you actually care about contributing to.) We’re basically taught how to do a simple job. Get instructions, follow instructions, improve at task. And even then, the skills are only really applicable to jobs that don’t require actual independent thought.

Critical thinking skills? Unheard of. Comprehension skills? What are you even talking about.

We aren’t taught thinking skills; we’re taught patterns. It’s no wonder that most young people seem unoriginal and dependent. Society took the human feature that allows us to improve as a whole and made it so extreme that we don’t grow as individuals. (Or learn to actively consider the actual whole, including those outside our social group and more.)

TLDR: Is measurable academic success, (and later economic success, especially through traditional means) really what we should be shaping children to value and achieve?

[friendofthecrows]

The thing that gets me about chat gpt is how tempting it is. If everyone was aware of the flaws and willing to do their own research on topics then there isn't really a problem. In that case, it could be like any other chatbot or AI generator that people mess with for fun or out of curiosity to see what it says.

Given that it generates stuff based on all the relevant sources it can get its metaphorical hands on, it's pretty good at seeing what kinds of thing people would talk about for a subject. It's GREAT for analyzing cliches and very typical structures in writing, if you give it vague creative writing prompts (fun exercise: tell it to generate some fiction writing prompts, then give it each of those prompts. get ready for some of the most generic fiction you've ever read.)

For research...I mean. Sometimes it does give a good overview of something but as the topics get more and more niche and there are either fewer papers/articles about it or the ones that exist are behind paywalls, chat gpt becomes less accurate and more of an estimation of what it thinks a paper about this should sound like. (using thinks loosely here). And as I said, so long as people are willing to do their own research, this is fine.

But getting a quick, easy, overview of the facts without having to do potentially hours of research, having a summary of many sources already synthesized rather than going through all of them and trying to mentally compare and contrast what different people say as you go...if it could work, any college student or knowledge/research-based professional can see how tempting it would be. "Wouldn't that be great? Think about all the time and effort saved!" your average person says. But your average person does not work in AI. Your average person does not work in data science either. Nor does your average person work as a librarian, archivist, or related field. Some of them do, but enough of them don't. The average person has already ignored every teacher's advice that there is really, unfortunately, no substitute for looking through as many different reliable sources as you can. We know the AI is mostly for fun, curiosity, or perhaps a jumping-off point, but they think "well it's accurate enough isn't it? The things it says are based on way more sources than I could read in the hour or two I'm willing to spend. So it's better, right? And it's so much easier." My beloved but misguided dude, a Wikipedia article is based on way more sources than you can read in an hour or two. And that at least has a fact-checking/review process! People have to add sources! Chat gpt is an estimated imitation of a Wikipedia article, but without the weirdly dedicated nerds (complementary) who check things for accuracy. And Wikipedia isn't even considered a good source. You'll notice that it's considered...a jumping-off point. *gasp* exactly how you should treat chat gpt if you ever want to use it to actually start researching something. Pls for the love of academic integrity just do further research.

But people are sooo tempted by the easy answers (understandable). And that's why so many people are blindly trusting chat gpt.

[daily-french-words]

Daily French words!

Intro:

Hi! I'm a French college student, and I study English literature and civilisation. I'm starting this page because I have a shit ton of extra French vocabulary to learn for exams, and it's a lot more fun to learn them through a tumblr page rather than just reading a piece of paper for hours!!!! All credits for the ideas for the first 160 main posts of this page goes to both of my French teachers this year, they're the ones who gathered up the lists- I obviously can't name them because I'd rather not dox myself (or them), but thanks!

Form :

(French word) : (French definition)

(example of the word's use in a French sentence)

(how common the word is out of ten, 1 being so uncommon people will look at you weird if you use it and 10 being common knowledge people will go "duh" at. please note this section will be the most subjective of the bunch and is purely based off my impression- the factors, such as social circle, time and place make it too difficult to have a more objective knowledge of how common said word is.)

(a possible translation in English) : (a definition in English because I like definitions)

(extra notes and precisions for context use, potential irregularities if it's a verb, other possible definitions, similarities, faux amis (see frequently used terms lower) or etymology because I'm a nerd)

Schedule :

Each week, ten words will come out : one each Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, and two each Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday!

Posts will be uploaded around midday CEST, so between 11am and 2pm, depending how I schedule them/at what time I eat.

Extra requested words can be uploaded anytime from 6am CEST to 2am CEST (the next day).

Every main daily post will be gathered under the "main" tag, extras will be gathered under the "extras" tag, and other random posts I may feel free to upload about the most random college life shit ever (even if probably really rare) will be gathered under the "baguette" tag.

Things to note :

These words are not common! This is vocab improvement. If you're looking for basic knowledge of French vocab or common phrases, you may have to look elsewhere.

I sadly only speak two languages, English and French, so this blog is only accessible to people speaking one or both of these. If you'd like to translate it to other languages (especially since the additional notes are all in English, and a lot of notes and translations vary), feel free to do so but please DM me about it before starting the blog, and of course credit me!

If you'd like to request a word, do so through the page's asks! That's mostly useful if you'd like extra context on the word, its etymology or its history, or if you feel like it could be a cool word to be featured on this page. Of course, these extra words may take time to appear and will be scattered quite a lot through time since they require extra time and research, and I may refuse some of them if I don't think they'd be a good fit on here. Requests made through DMs will not be taken into account. Please only make requests through the ask feature, and wait until the asks open again if they're closed while I sort through them.

At the moment, I have 160 words, so enough content for four months (see schedule above to see how I count them). I cannot guarantee this page will update with the same schedule or update at all once I run out, depending on whether I still like doing it by then or prefer to stop. If it does stop updating though, I will leave all the posts up because knowledge is knowledge, and I may pick it up once in a while if I ever get bored and want to have fun with it again or if the asks supply me enough to sustain the page.

Frequently used terms (that you probably know already but I want to make sure everything is clear):

n. : nom/noun

nf. : nom féminin/feminine noun

nm. : nom masculin/masculine noun

nn. : nom neutre/neutral noun (we probably won't encounter any, but just in case, I'm putting this here!)

v. : verbe/verb

adj. : adjectif/adjective

sy. : synonyme/synonym

ant. : antonyme/antonym

litt./lit. : littéralement/literally

faux ami : expression that refers to a word that resembles another one in the same or a different language but that differs largely in sense.

About sources:

For most definitions and translations, I use the online Larousse dictionary (https://www.larousse.fr/dictionnaires/francais/), the Wikitionnaire (https://fr.wiktionary.org/wiki/) and WordReference (https://www.wordreference.com/).

For etymology and word history, I use a mix between the Wikitionnaire and the Centre National de Ressources Textuelles et Lexicale (CNRTL)'s website (https://www.cnrtl.fr), along with paper versions of etymology dictionaries.

[myyeehawacademia]

Accepted! Neito Monoma!

Character name: Monoma Neito

Why do you want to play them?:

-He’s my favorite and I’m drawn in by characters who prefer to use their words and manipulative tactics against stronger opponents in the absence of combat power

What is their quirk?:

-Copy; can copy up to 4 quirks at a time for 5 minutes

What powers and limitations do they have:

-Can only use one quirk copied at a time. Combat power is average fighting ability

Describe the character’s personality:

 -He’s rather abrasive and loves to taunt others around him, often to an obnoxious degree if he feels competitive. Generally he’s a good person and is always willing to help if asked, but he tends to snap back with rather intense verbal lashings if he’s provoked.

What has your character been doing since canon? (please consult server story for ideas!):

 - After canon events regarding the final war arc and Monoma’s role in mastering quirks for the war, he focused a lot of his efforts on how to best support heroes who are more in the throws of action than he usually is. This will involve copying quirks of classmates in order to think of other applications for said quirk and return to them with the results and ideas. Given that he is an incredible strategist and known for thinking outside of the box, he puts a lot of research into these things, while also keeping them in mind for if he ever needs to copy quirks in the future. On top of pro-hero work, he is studying for college entrance exams to further his knowledge on things like physics in order to have a broad understanding of how to apply different quirks.

Preferred relationships (friendships, rivalries, ships, etc):

- Class B is still his heart and he does what he can to boost their status. Awase and Kendo are the closest to him. Monoma has developed a huge admiration for Bakugo in particular, especially after the war (but most of the time he just likes to push his buttons and won’t admit it, so its probably onesided) He’s wary of Aizawa as he’s really not up for mastering any more weird quirks any time soon.

Please list your goal(s) for the character (This can be a long term plan for the character’s progression, or an aspect of the character you’d like to explore!): Monoma is a character I write due to his fighting style being 90% provoking words. Fight RPs are fun but I find the plot that involves a weaker character being able to talk a much stronger one into fatal mistakes incredibly fun. He’s definitely NOT kind and tends to speak too harshly, so I also would encourage people to really lay into him and put him in his place when needed.

For your character:What do you think about UA University’s Villain Rehabilitation Program:

Cue a light scoff and a roll of the eyes. There is a solid beat of silence as Neito’s expression shifts between bitter amusement and indignation. “Really, the rehab stuff all seems great on paper. I’m sure it’s a fantastic little program for those who can’t stand the idea of snuffing anyone out. Me, personally, I’d draw a line at what sins can’t be forgiven and get rid of that liability. Why would I want to risk a bad day for any of them?”

Pick two of the following prompts and write out how you would behave in that scenario. Minimum 100 words each:

“You overhear someone talking bad about you from across the room, how do you react?”

If Neito was across the room before, he certainly isn’t now. Like a bullet train, the man made a direct descent into the conversation at hand. A chair is pulled out from under a nearby desk and sat on backwards.

“Well, hello there,” He flashed a knowing grin. Blue eyes squint with obvious malice. “I thought I might have heard wrong, silly me for eavesdropping I know, but could you perhaps repeat that last bit for me~?”

There’s a strong intensity in the air. The next words better be chosen carefully, as Neito wasn’t going to spare any that leaked like venom off his tongue next.

“You’re in combat with a villain who is threatening to attack nearby civilians. How do you stop them?”

 Nothing. He’s running on nothing. This had to be the worst possible time to catch a villain in the midst of a potential hostage situation. Only a second passes a Neito already has his mothers words in his ears. ‘What are you going to do when you’re alone? What are you going to do with a quirk like that if you the real heroes aren’t around?’

Breathe. Quirk or no, Neito knows he has an excellent poker face and an even better silver wit. The distress signal is already sent, now the only thing to do was to stall. Monoma Neito can certainly stall a villain.

“Woah there, friend, what is it you think you’re doing?” As the Phantom Thief, Monoma stands with his arms out. It was both a dominating posture as well as one that implied no tricks to hide. “Something tells me you’re not standing there, knees shaking like that, because you genuinely want to hurt anyone. I’ve already set up a plan of capture-“ a lie. “It’ll be all over your loved ones feeds!” Another lie. “-but lets talk about this first. Don’t you want a chance to stop?”

[roboromantic]

y'know, one of the few good things about the church I grew up in is that there was a big push for us to fact-check things. If someone cites the Bible, we should look it up and make sure that quote actually exists - hell, the preachers would always pause after citing a verse and you could hear people flipping the pages of their Bibles to find it. I don't actually remember if other coc churches did this or if it was just bc of the main preacher we had, I'm kinda curious. Also do other denominations do this? I imagine statistically there must be some but idk how common that is

Certain CoC arguments (complete immersion of "adults" for baptism, no musical instruments in worship) rely on analyzing the original Greek of the New Testament, so at the very least the preachers did some research into that, however biased. Even back then my father used an app that let you compare different translations, though I uh. don't think that was something most other people did.

He also encouraged me to look up English words I didn't know in a dictionary rather than just ask him, and it was definitely in an "encouraging learning" way and not a "stop bothering me" way, so it wasn't JUST the CoC. But it's really quite ironic that this cult-like group actually helped to teach me one of the most important critical thinking skills, lmao.

like what prompted this is I saw this post a while back by a 16 y/o being corrected on some fandom lore stuff where they basically said "oh I'm gullible and don't really know how to research, and that's probably not gonna change XD" and I mean, they're just a kid. At their age I was still very much entrenched in the CoC so I don't exactly have room to criticize.

But if they don't know how to research information for a fandom they love, then I'm genuinely concerned for how they interact with a world of fake news, graphs and statistics distorted to look like something completely different than what they actually represent, search engines that give you ads ahead of and mixed in with actually relevant results, clickbait, and so many things that care more about making you emotional so you engage with their content more than they do about facts.

Odds are they're probably still in secondary education, so hopefully they'll be taught some researching skills that way? There's no guarantee that they are or that said education is any good though, and even if this person wants to get better at research on their own......well, how do they research how to get better at it?

and like. we already know a good chunk of people on this site don't bother to read beyond headlines or fact-check stuff, and their media literacy and analysis is abyssmal; they can't all be 16 year olds. It's a problem for people of any age and/or educational status and this is starting to sound like the paper I wrote on the problems with religious literacy in the US. it comes full circle lmao

OH RIGHT there's this other post of twitter screenshots that's like "google is HIDING other search engines from us" and then has a bunch of links to......academic sites? do they really expect people to use worldcat (which at least while I was in college was actively recommended) to find out when a movie comes out or what time a store closes or the gazillion other mundane things people google. Like just mention yahoo or bing or even marginalia, THOSE have similar functions to google. the links that person is listing are more along the lines of scholar.google.com. the OP has since left twitter so idk if they ever addressed that point

Anyway. I almost wish I could meet this kid and teach them how to do research but I don't know that I'd be any good at it. it feels like that xkcd comic where it's just something I've done forever so what seems like common knowledge to me still sounds intimidating to those who aren't familiar with it